"Do I look that weak?"
That was the first thought that flashed through Michael's mind after seeing the reactions of the people around him.
He couldn't think of anything else to warrant their current expressions after his words.
However, it wasn't that they thought he was weak.
On the contrary, Michael looked like someone capable of defending himself.
Ace and Lia were perfect witnesses to this—his earlier display in the slums had already proven his strength.
Their expressions weren't of doubt but something else entirely.
Unpleasant memories had resurfaced in their minds, reminding them why they were in their current situation.
As for the driver? He wasn't dismissing Michael's ability to fight. The youth carried himself with the grace and confidence of someone who knew his own strength.
But against vicious bandits?
The old man wasn't convinced.
Michael, realizing he had to convince them—especially since it seemed like a trip could be denied even if one had the money—stepped closer to the old man's carriage under the driver's suspicious gaze.
Without a word, he grabbed hold of the carriage and lifted it half a meter off the ground.
The old man's eyes widened in shock.
The reaction wasn't limited to just him.
Everyone who witnessed the sight froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.
For a brief moment, silence filled the air.
Then, murmurs erupted among the bystanders.
"Did he just lift that…?"
"That's not normal strength!"
The old man swallowed, gripping the reins of his horses a little tighter. His earlier hesitation wavered, but his caution didn't fully disappear
Michael set the carriage down gently, dusting off his hands as if he hadn't just lifted an entire vehicle off the ground. Then, he turned back to the driver.
"Will that be enough to ease your worries?"
The old man hesitated before nodding slowly. "It's impressive, my lord, but strength alone won't stop a blade from your back when you're outnumbered."
Michael almost rolled his eyes. He had undead at his disposal—his back was the least of his concerns.
However, to put the old man at ease, Michael addressed him directly.
"Okay, I'll get a few guards, alright?"
The old man's tense expression eased slightly, though he still seemed wary. "That'd be best, my lord. The roads aren't what they used to be."
Michael wasn't actually planning to hire adventurers, but saying this would at least stop the old man from hesitating further. Besides, if it came down to it, his undead were more than enough.
Yes, Michael planned to use his undead as "guards".
With that settled, the driver finally nodded. "Alright then, we leave as soon as you're ready."
Michael gave a small nod. "Give me a few minutes."
Without waiting for a response, he turned to Ace and Lia, handing each of them two silver coins.
"Go buy food supplies. Enough for a long journey," he instructed.
Ace glanced at the coin in his palm, then at Michael. "How long are we talking?"
"At least two days," Michael replied.
An 18-hour round trip wasn't something they could complete in a single day. It was already afternoon, and while Michael wasn't against night travel, it wasn't his goal either. After all, the village they were heading to wasn't his real destination.
According to the map, it was simply the most likely area near the city where the bandits' base was located. He had to take his time searching for it.
With that in mind, he separated from the group after paying the old man in advance—payment before service was standard practice. Then, without wasting any more time, he made his way back to the slums.
The moment he stepped into the rougher part of the city, trouble found him.
A group of would-be robbers thought they had an easy target, but Michael wasn't in the mood to play along.
The first man who lunged at him got his wrist grabbed and twisted until he screamed. Another tried to stab him from behind, only for Michael to sidestep and elbow him in the ribs, sending him crumpling to the ground.
By the time the third man even considered running, Michael had already sent the second one into a nearby wall.
With the would-be thieves groaning in pain, Michael dusted off his sleeves and continued on his way.
Soon, he arrived at the secluded location where he had subdued Ace and Lia earlier.
Standing in the empty lot, he raised his hand and activated his skill.
A moment later, four figures emerged from the shadows, their heavy armor clanking softly.
Michael looked at his creations—four armored orcs, each towering over him, their monstrous forms radiating an intimidating presence.
These were his "guards."
After the battle with the crack monsters in the real world, Michael had thoroughly cleaned all his undead.
For those he could wash with water, he poured it on them. As for the ones requiring more delicate care, he handed them wipes and had them clean themselves.
Now, standing before him, his undead were spotless—though they still radiated a faint murderous aura.
Michael eyed them critically before giving a firm order.
"Keep your heads down and don't let anyone see under your hoods."
The orcs nodded silently. They were all fully covered, and aside from their towering physiques, they looked human enough.
As long as no one caught a glimpse of their skin, they would pass unnoticed.
With his undead disguised as guards, Michael wasted no time and led them toward the meeting point.
As they made their way through the slums, passersby instinctively kept their distance.
The sheer presence of the armored figures was enough to deter any lingering troublemakers.
Michael ignored the wary gazes and focused on the path ahead.
When they reached the marketplace, he spotted Ace and Lia returning with sacks of food supplies.
Lia was the first to notice him.
His eyes darted toward the four massive figures behind him, and he visibly stiffened.
"Is this who I actually tried to rob?" He thought in awe of his audacity.