The more Michael's undead advanced to Rank 3, the more he found himself relying on them.

In sparring, in studying, and even in the moments when he sat alone to cultivate his law, their presence shaped his growth.

He had not noticed it at first.

But as the weeks passed, a clear pattern appeared.

He was not only using them more.

He was beginning to understand them.

Their instincts.

Their quirks.

Their personalities.

Every undead that reached Rank 3 developed a more defined sense of self.

Lucky became greedier with tasting grass.

Prince grew increasingly obsessed with studying souls, acting as if he intended to surpass Michael as a necromancer.

Ghost became quieter but was a fitness lover as Beginning, and the two were often together.

Lily was just a glutton.

And Fade…

Fade had changed in his own way.

He had originally been a mantis, a pure assassin with no thoughts beyond killing and obeying.

After reaching Rank 3 and forming a humanoid body, something inside him shifted.

He became fixated on one role.

Being Michael's bodyguard.

He watched Michael constantly.

He lingered in whatever shadow Michael happened to stand in.

He even corrected his posture based on the strange novels Spartan kept forcing on him.

Michael had once walked in on Fade trying to fold clothes because Spartan's book, "Royal Soldier in Love," said bodyguards should have elegant manners.

Michael blamed this on two things.

First was Spartan, who was obsessed with being a scholar and shared every ridiculous book he could find.

Second was the natural instinct of undead to serve their master.

Fade simply mixed both influences in the strangest way possible.

And now, in the royal hall, the same Fade who had been hiding in Michael's shadow was the one holding Princess Priscilla's wrist in midair.

---

The entire hall froze again.

It was more accurate to say that the hall had been frozen for a while now.

This time, the shock came from confusion.

No one had seen him move.

Not even the Shadow Guards, famed for their flawless perception.

One moment Princess Priscilla reached out.

The next, her hand was caught gently but firmly by a tall, lean figure in black armor with pale green eyes.

Fade.

His voice was soft and calm.

"Do not touch my lord."

The Shadow Guards' eyes widened behind their masks.

The nobles stepped back.

Several princes tensed on instinct.

Princess Priscilla slowly turned her gaze toward the figure holding her wrist.

Her expression did not change.

Michael blinked once.

He did not even have time to think before Fade bowed his head slightly, still holding her wrist.

"My lord does not wish to be touched," Fade said in the same calm tone. "Please respect his boundary."

Michael dragged a hand across his face.

Of all the undead who could have appeared at that exact moment, it had to be Fade.

He was the only one outside with Michael tonight.

Princess Priscilla looked calm, but her mind churned.

Those who knew a little about Michael suspected he came from a mysterious background.

His strength alone made him unusual.

Someone that powerful appearing from nowhere was possible but rare.

And Michael never carried himself lower than anyone, which made people assume his backing was extraordinary.

So when she saw an unfamiliar man holding her hand, appearing without warning, a thought came to her naturally.

Was this his guardian?

Was he from this world, or from Michael's unknown original world?

She tried to pull her hand back.

She met resistance.

Dislodging herself would require real effort, something she had not experienced in years.

And how had this man stood before her without being noticed?

But she was not frightened.

Fade held her wrist with steady, controlled strength.

The nobles, who had been trembling earlier, finally broke.

Whispers spread across the hall.

"Where did he come from?"

"Was he there before?"

"Who is he?"

"Another Great One?"

Princess Priscilla looked up.

"You are his guard?"

Fade answered without a pause.

"I am the shadow of my lord."

His tone was soft but firm.

"I will not allow anyone to place their hands on him without his permission."

She tested her wrist again.

The grip did not hurt, but it would not budge.

"Release me," she said.

Fade did not answer.

His pale green eyes shifted past her shoulder, focused on a point behind her. His voice dropped even lower.

"If you move any closer to my lord again, I will take action."

The marble floor might as well have been ice.

The entire hall felt it.

Princess Priscilla's eyes tightened slightly.

It was one of the few visible changes in her expression since the confrontation began.

Everyone else was confused.

The princes.

The nobles.

Even the Shadow Guards.

None of them understood who this figure was or why he dared speak to the Great Princess like that.

But Michael understood.

He was staring at a particular spot in the hall. His gaze held there for three silent seconds.

He sensed it before it occurred.

A faint disturbance in the air.

A shift in pressure.

And then the change arrived.

An old man in black robes stepped out from nothingness, as though he had always been standing there.

The Shadow Guards, freed earlier by Michael, dropped to one knee in unison.

Their voices rang out together.

"Grand Shadow."

A hush swept across the palace.

Princess Priscilla tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement.

The old man did not look at her.

He did not look at Michael.

He did not look at the princes.

His gaze locked on Fade.

Fade did not look away.

The two stood in absolute silence.

The nobles did not know who the unfamiliar figure in armor was, but they all knew the black robed elder who had just appeared when they heard his title.

The Grand Shadow.

The one who commanded all Shadow Guards under the royal family.

He also had another title.

The second brother of the second generation king of the kingdom.

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