Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 372: Chapter 372 Sira

A/N: With this we say goodbye. I’m quite excited for what’s ahead. Michael advancement and college exams are just around the corner. Do you guys have any expectations?

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Some of these illusions were created by freelance mages, charging a few copper coins per head to stand beneath their feed.

Others were the work of the Evermoon House itself, Duke Evermoon’s personal mages having cast wide-range projection spells across key parts of the capital.

For the people, it didn’t matter who made the images. What mattered was what they saw.

They saw Uga.

They saw Michael.

They saw Renn Noah and Prince Rui.

And they cheered.

At taverns, customers had abandoned their drinks to huddle around a glowing image near the bar.

In noble estates, servants and lesser retainers paused their work to stare at open-air illusions in the courtyards. In poorer districts, families had gathered in the streets with children lifted onto shoulders to see the glowing visions crackle above them.

Gasps had echoed across rooftops when Uga punched the stage into dust. Cries of disbelief rang out in alleyways when Michael stood unharmed in the midst of that brute force.

And when Renn’s blade clashed with Prince Rui in that final exchange, a wave of silence had passed through the capital—followed by stunned applause.

One particular projection hovered in a wide courtyard outside the capital’s southern market district. The mage who had conjured it, a balding man with a sharp chin and a loud voice.

He raised his staff, and the illusion shimmered as the voice of the commentator rang out

> ”All other participants in this tournament, regardless of where they placed, will receive a base reward of one hundred gold coins!”

The words hit like thunder.

The crowd froze.

And then—chaos.

A young woman screamed. An old man dropped his walking stick in disbelief. A pair of teenage boys leapt into the air, hollering at the top of their lungs.

”A hundred gold coins?! Are you mad?!”

”That’s more than my father’s workshop earns in five years!”

”My brother was in that tournament! He’s rich now! Rich!”

The reactions were more than just excitement.

In a world where most citizens lived modest lives and counted copper and silver with care, the idea of receiving one gold coin was already a miracle. But one hundred?

That was wealth. That was a future.

The news spread like wildfire. From one illusion square to the next, the announcement echoed, and people responded with wild celebration.

Fireworks—both magical and mundane—were lit in parts of the capital. Musicians began playing in the taverns.

In the better part of the outer city, where cobbled streets were wide enough to fit merchant carriages and the buildings stood taller and better maintained than their surroundings, a particular restaurant buzzed with a different kind of energy.

The Velvet Ember.

Newly built just five months ago, the establishment had already carved a name for itself. Elegant wooden beams framed the structure, glowing softly with subtle enchantments that kept the temperature inside comfortable no matter the weather.

Lanterns infused with warm light floated lazily near the ceiling. The restaurant didn’t boast a noble’s extravagance, but its understated refinement was unmistakable.

It catered mostly to wealthy merchants, successful adventurers, and minor nobles who preferred discretion to grandeur.

The food was said to be superb—delicate spice blends, rare meats, even imported wines—but that wasn’t the only thing drawing attention today.

At the far side of the second floor, a massive illusionary screen shimmered in the air, broadcasting the live projection from the arena. The crowd inside was silent—not because they weren’t excited, but because they were holding their breath.

Moments earlier, they had witnessed Uga’s terrifying might clash with the cold control of Mic Nor. Then came the announcement.

Second place—Uga.

Third place—Prince Rui.

And then... the bombshell.

”All other participants in this tournament, regardless of where they placed, will receive a base reward of one hundred gold coins!”

Gasps rang out throughout the restaurant. Silverware clinked against ceramic as diners forgot their food. Even the waiting staff paused mid-step.

Whispers followed quickly.

”A hundred gold coins?!”

”That’s insane... My father doesn’t even give me a gold coin for my monthly allowance.”

”But didn’t I hear the owner has a brother who participated?”

The murmurs became concentrated, all eyes slowly turning toward the same direction.

To the corner booth where a single woman sat—silent, unmoving, her wine untouched.

She was dressed plainly but with immaculate precision. A dark maroon blouse, high-collared and trimmed in silver, clung to her slender form.

A cloak draped neatly over her shoulders, and her boots bore the fine polish of someone who either cared deeply for her appearance—or had the money to ensure someone else did.

But it wasn’t the outfit that caught the eye.

It was the presence.

Even seated, she gave off a pressure that made others hesitate to approach. Her hair, raven-black and tied in a loose braid, shimmered under the light of the hovering illusion. Her skin was pale, nearly porcelain. And her eyes...

Her eyes were like sharpened glass—cold, clear, and painfully observant.

Sira.

Though few in the restaurant had ever spoken directly to her, everyone knew the rumors.

The mysterious owner of The Velvet Ember. A woman in her early twenties who had appeared out of nowhere, bought the land outright in a single transaction, and opened one of the most successful businesses in the outer city in less than half a year.

No loans. No partners.

Some said she had backing from high nobles.

But most popular of all was the rumor that she had a brother—an incredibly powerful brother—who would crush anyone that offended her.

Most had seen him.

And now, they knew exactly who that brother was.

Uga.

The wild, untamed monster of a man who had just shaken the entire capital with his bare fists and taken second place in the Duke’s tournament.

The moment the commentator’s voice had confirmed Uga’s placement, several eyes had darted toward Sira.

She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t smiled. She hadn’t even blinked.

She merely sat still, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting gently on her lap as if none of this concerned her in the slightest.

But the restaurant staff knew better.

They had seen her lips twitch—just barely—when Uga’s name was called.

And to them, that was enough.

”No wonder she could afford this place. With that kind of power behind her...”

The whispers faded as the commentator’s voice picked up again, but no one could truly focus on the screen anymore.

Sira continued to sit in silence.

Her wine still untouched.

Her expression unreadable.

Only she knew what emotions stirred beneath that calm exterior.

Pride?

Relief?

Joy?

Only she remembered what Uga had been like as a child—before the strength, before the forest, before the world had turned its back on them.

She remembered the day they were separated.

And now....

He was alive as ever.

Far stronger than she even estimated.

She exhaled quietly through her nose, then finally reached for the wineglass.

A sip.

”That fool...he still fought even after telling him to retreat from a battle that was too strong.”

”Fortunately, his opponent was merciful.”

Sira thought back to Michael’s appearance.

The youth.

The youth was quite handsome