For a fraction of a second, the others stared at him again, as if remembering he existed.

Then their attention snapped back to the demons, because the sight in front of them did not allow distraction.

The old man glanced at Michael.

There was surprise in his eyes.

"I do not know what is happening," the old man said.

His gaze shifted again, tracking the movement of the demons.

"But I know what must be done."

The old man's expression hardened.

"If this continues," he said, "it will become far worse."

He lifted his hand.

Space trembled.

"We stop it here."

Then he vanished again.

The other rank 3 followed, leaving only Michael behind, but this time not without dropping a nod at Michael first.

"This is insane," Michael thought mentally as he maintained his distance.

"Did the disappearance of the demon lord have to do with this?" Michael said aloud as he brought his spear out of his soul space together with the damaged coffin of the forgotten that houses his undead.

He didn't know what was happening, but he felt like he should do his part before this got worse.

When the old man entered the fray, it was like they knew or could rather obviously see he was the most dangerous one and ganged up on him.

Regardless of how powerful he is, except he is willing to go all out, just as Michael's undead has been able to hold back the rank 4 from the demonic faction, the demons were also able to do the same for the old man, but thankfully with his presence, the pressure on the three other races reduced, though it was still a lot for them to handle.

Even with the peak rank 3 Amazari silver-haired elder, and the two though individually weak rank 3 Stonekin but strong together, the situation didn't get much better.

Michael could feel the old man's gaze land on him several times.

Michael knew the old man was aware of him having a good amount of rank 3 undead. But what Michael didn't know was that though the man did know he had a good amount of rank 3 undead to be able to subdue a suppressed rank 4, good in the old man's mind was having at most 5 peak rank 3 undead.

This misconception made Michael even more comfortable in releasing his undead.

Though he acted like he didn't care, Michael had honestly been a bit concerned about the federation's reaction to his power, but seeing as the old man did not "react" (he did not know), Michael felt more at ease.

There were about 40 rank 3 combatants on each side of the three races, and on the demon side, there were about 300 rank 3.

However the three races had survived before this was impressive, but given the bodies on the floor, it was enough to say enough about their tragic fate.

Each race took about double the size of their group. About 80 for each group, meaning the rest were either focused on the silver-haired elder, the Stonekin, and the old man who took the biggest number individually but was skilled enough to manage more than the other three.

"80 undead should be enough," Michael thought.

In any case, if they were not enough, he still had about 180 more undead he could bring out.

Willing his intention to the damaged coffin of the forgotten, Michael started summoning his undead.

The old man continued fighting, but his gaze never truly left Michael.

When Michael looked as though he was about to act, the old man's curiosity stirred.

Five Rank Three undead would certainly be powerful. Against a single target, especially a suppressed Rank Four, they could change the flow of battle. But this was different. This was a battlefield drowned in numbers. Against hundreds of Rank Threes, five, even peak ones, would not be decisive.

Or so he thought.

Then the first undead emerged.

It was still in its humanoid form.

A Rank Three.

The second followed immediately.

Then the third.

The fourth.

The fifth.

The old man's brows knit together.

Five.

That matched his expectation.

Then the sixth emerged.

Then the seventh.

Then the eighth.

One after another, undead poured out in an unbroken sequence, each one radiating a stable, unmistakable Rank Three aura.

The old man was not the only one who froze.

The Amazari elder's breath caught in her throat.

The Stonekin elders who were also paying attention stiffened mid-motion, their bodies momentarily forgetting to move.

Even the demons reacted.

A sharp, distorted roar tore through the battlefield.

"STOP HIM NOW!"

The shout came from a high-ranking demon near the rear, its voice carrying both fury and urgency.

The moment the command was given, the demonic formation fractured.

Several groups peeled away from the main engagement at once, dozens of Rank Three demons breaking off and turning in unison. Their eyes locked onto Michael.

They rushed him.

At the same instant, Michael's undead moved.

No orders were spoken.

They surged forward as one, black auras flaring as they intercepted the charge. The air between the two forces detonated in a violent collision of mana and flesh.

BOOM.

Shockwaves rippled outward as demon and undead slammed together.

Some continued fighting in the material world while some immediately entered the void to continue.

But still, the summoning did not stop.

Another undead emerged.

Then another.

Then five more.

Ten.

Twenty.

The chill began to spread.

At first, it was subtle, a tightening in the chest, a sense that something was wrong. Then it became unmistakable.

The number of undead reached fifty.

Then passed it.

No one was counting anymore.

Because the battlefield itself had changed.

The demons were being forced back.

Not because they were suddenly weaker, but because they were being matched and getting closer to being outmatched.

The silver-haired Amazari elder felt her scalp prickle.

"This…" she murmured under her breath, eyes wide. "What sort of sorcery is this?"

One of the Stonekin elders spoke too.

"This is an army."

It was an exaggeration to call 80 figures an army, but in the supernatural world, if the power was high enough, even 20 figures could count as an army or at least a special kind of army.

The demons felt it too.

The initial rush faltered as undead numbers continued to swell behind the front lines, filling gaps instantly.

Michael hovered calmly behind them, spear resting in his hand.

As for the old man.

For the first time since entering the battlefield, his expression truly changed.

His gaze sharpened as he counted.

Five peak Rank Three undead.

That was what he had expected.

That was what would have been reasonable.

Where did this eighth come from?

His eyes narrowed.

He finally understood. He had underestimated the scale of the youth's strength. He couldn't deny he himself felt scared in his heart though he wouldn't admit it. Just what the boy had shown now, if at any time Michael wanted to deal with him, as long as they could control his abilities related to the void, his life would be in danger, except maybe he could do something to Michael.

This thought made the old man feel suddenly insecure.

"This…" the old man muttered under his breath, dodging a demon's strike as his attention flicked back to Michael again. "How many does he truly have? Is this all?"

The demons too had come to a realization. They were in a very messed up situation.

Just when everything seemed to be settling, just when the demonic pressure began to bend under the weight of Michael's reinforcements.

Michael felt it.

A terrifying aura from behind.

For a split second, it felt like the entire battlefield noise muted, as if the world itself had held its breath.

Michael's pupils narrowed.

He turned his head only slightly and a fist was already there.

An inch away from his face.

A human fist, wrapped in compressed mana so dense it looked like the air around it had been carved into a weapon.

"Phase Shift."

Then Michael vanished and reappeared ten meters away in a different location.

BOOM.

The shockwave ripped through the air in his former location.

Michael's gaze snapped there and lifted his spear instinctively.

But his attacker did not chase blindly and pulled back into the void.

For an instant, Michael managed to see a silhouette with a human frame.

Human.

That confirmation landed like a weight in Michael.

A human was here.

"Demonic supernaturals?"

Someone who could approach him through eighty Rank Three undead and a battlefield full of death without being noticed until the last inch made Michael's heart beat fast.

The man's body appeared again a few seconds later, but Michael was able to dodge this time again with phase shift, except he was slower this time even if he didn't get hit.

It was then others in the battlefield reacted as well. As the main figure here at this moment, Michael was the center of attraction.

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