Michael crossed the encampment quietly, ignoring the flickering torches and crackling tents.
The flying ship loomed at the far end, massive and unmoving.
Michael stepped aboard and climbed to the room he'd claimed as his own.
The hallway was dim, the floorboards creaking under his boots.
When he entered, he didn't bother lighting the lantern.
'Still no sign of the monster…' Michael thought as he clenched his fist.
It had been over a week now.
Michael didn't want to admit it, but his patience was wearing thin.
He wanted that monster dead.
It was the one encounter in this world that had truly shaken him. Not just because of its strength, but because of the feeling it gave him.
However,.he couldn't wait forever.
The competition for the Duke of Evermoon was starting soon.
He had a deal to fulfil.
Time to prepare for that.
Before leaving, Michael figured he should make one last detour.
His first location in this world.
The place where he first met that monster.
It wasn't deep within the forest but quite far away from his current location.
Well, if he didn't run.
'If I'm lucky, I'll find a trace. If not… I'll move on.'
Michael stood, stretched his back, and turned toward the small trunk in the corner of the room. Inside it, his gear was neatly packed.
"Let's give it a try tomorrow." At least, that was what Michael thought before heading to his bed to rest—until a few hours later.
Loud noises began echoing through the surroundings.
Michael, who had been meditating, immediately got up and ran out of his room to the top deck of the flying ship.
Far away, a wave of monsters was making its way toward the ship.
Michael didn't know, but he could swear they numbered in the hundreds.
The sounds he had just heard were from the knights already engaging the monsters.
But two hundred knights surrounded by hundreds of beasts was a daunting scene.
The worst part was that Michael couldn't spot Verren anywhere.
"Did he go to look for that monster?"
It was the only reasonable thought Michael could come up with.
Even as he considered this, his actions weren't slow.
With a wave of his hand, he used Undead Summoning several times atop the flying ship.
A few undead figures rose from dark portals.
However, if anyone familiar with Michael's army had seen his selection, they would've been confused.
He had only summoned his human undead—including Spartan.
Spartan was understandable. It was powerful.
But Michael had long since acquired many more human undead thanks to the hunter guild's tasks and his solo hunts in dimensional cracks back in his original world. They were far from weak.
Still, shouldn't he be summoning his strongest undead?
With them, handling the monster wave would've been far easier.
Yet despite the urgency, Michael was thinking ahead.
For one, it was now clear the monster hadn't disappeared.
That much was evident from the black tentacles visible on the bodies of the monsters.
However, the fact that it had chosen to attack now—when the kingdom's army here was at its weakest—showed that it had been taking its time, waiting for the right moment.
Of course, Michael could be wrong. But he figured that if he showed all his power now, who was to say the monster wouldn't simply run away?
It had taken so long just to find traces of it; Michael didn't want to lose it again.
Turning to look at his high-ranking human undead, clad in armor and wielding spears, bows, and various other weapons, Michael gave his command.
"Go. Stabilize the situation."
They weren't to aggressively hunt down the monsters, nor let the knights be overwhelmed.
Their mission was to protect the knights, nothing more.
The reason was simple.
It was also to lower the monster's guard.
Watching as his undead leapt off the top of the flying ship one after another, Michael turned and headed back to his room.
Once there, he quickly dressed in the equipment he had brought from the Supers Association Branch.
Though he believed himself to be intelligent, Michael wasn't willing to take any chances with this monster.
After all, this was a life-and-death situation.
Fully equipped, he returned to the top of the ship.
Standing by the edge, he looked down to observe the battlefield below.
The battlefield was chaos.
Screams echoed through the dark, mingled with the guttural roars of monsters and the clash of steel. The knights were holding, but barely.
His undead had formed a second wall behind them, intercepting any stray creatures that slipped past.
Spartan was at the forefront, cleaving through enemies with brutal efficiency, his spear sweeping in deadly arcs.
Michael stood motionless, eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness beyond the horde.
He watched for a while—minutes, maybe longer. Still, he saw nothing that seemed like it was that monster.
No slithering shadows. Nothing.
Then he turned, surveying the skies.
That thing had to be watching.
Michael clenched his jaw.
"Enough," he muttered under his breath.
Then, with a sudden push of strength, Michael launched himself into the air, the wood of the deck cracking beneath his boots.
As he ascended, he used his skill.
From a swirling black mist above, a massive form emerged.
His undead griffin let out a soft screech, its wings already outstretched.
Michael landed smoothly on its back, not even needing to give a command before the beast soared forward, gliding silently above the battlefield.
Below, torches flickered like dying stars, and the tents crackled as stray flames spread from the skirmishes.
Michael ignored it all, his eyes locked forward as Gale carried him across the encampment.
The flying ship stood on the far edge, towering and unmoving like a fortress in the sky.
Michael gaze hardened as he looked around with intense focus.