CHAPTER 97

The Living Armor had reached the Stepped City at the peak of Epic Level and spent several days observing the lives of the people. The presence of the undead in the city was rare, and it was mostly bandits who roamed the streets. However, with the new guards' management, the bandits were no longer needed and had rejoined the main army.

The Living Armor, clad in full plate armor like a knight, walked through the city, suppressing its mana and the soulfire within its armor, making it impossible for anyone to recognize its undead nature. After several days of watching the people, it reached the castle, where the citizens praised the late Count's son, calling him the Iron Hero—a hero who remained steadfast in his ideals until the very end.

"That life is over now..."

Revealing its identity to no one, the Living Armor only released its Warlord-level mana when passing through security checkpoints. The soulfire leaking from within its armor marked its true nature as one of the Living Armors, an elite force of the Kingdom of the Dead—a presence that no city guard would dare take lightly.

"I have come at the King's request to see the Count!"

The castle guards trembled, for this time, the Living Armor had released its true aura. As it stepped inside the castle, the servants and guards hurried to prepare for such a guest, while the old Count had no choice but to leave his chambers. He could not afford to show disrespect to an Epic-level entity sent by the King, for fear that an innocent life might be put at risk.

The old Count walked slowly through the corridors, having recently changed into fresh clothes. His tired eyes, swollen from constant weeping, reflected his grief. Minutes passed until he reached the main hall and sat on his throne. When the hall doors opened, he saw a knight clad in obsidian armor, yet at a level lower than a Lord. Confusion struck him—hadn't he been told that the envoy was at the peak of Epic Level?

Little did he know that his son refused to release his mana before his father, not wanting to pressure him.

When the knight finally kneeled before the Count, his voice was different from before.

"Count—"

"Please, rise!"

The Count felt fear. If this knight was truly at the peak of Epic Level, he must hold a higher rank in the Kingdom of the Dead. His kneeling made no sense—it was illogical, and the Count feared that such an act would give rise to rumors among the servants and guards who stood around, equally shocked by the knight's actions.

Yet, the knight merely lifted his head.

"Count, there is something important that only you and your wife must hear."

Upon hearing this, the Count gestured for everyone to leave and ordered a servant to summon his wife.

"I hope the King has good intentions for my people..."

"Rest assured, the King treats this city better than any other."

The Count sighed in relief, for this was true. He did not know why, but the tribute imposed on his city and lands was less than that of others, and the Kingdom of the Dead's bandit army protected his domain more closely than any other.

"Are we just an experiment? Or is this because of my son's death that we are treated this way?"

The question weighed on the Count's mind, but the knight did not answer. He simply stared at the door, waiting for the servant to return with the lady of the castle.

Ten minutes later, a woman entered the hall—her condition even worse than her husband's. Her eyes, nearly blind from endless weeping, carried the weight of unbearable sorrow. As she stepped forward with weak movements, she collapsed upon seeing the knight.

"Angela!!!"

The Count rushed to help his wife, who had broken down into hysterical sobbing.

"Why!? Why!? Why does your presence feel like my son's!?"

The Count reached her and gently held her, trying to calm her.

"Angela, please calm down! Bring her something to soothe her!"

He shouted to a servant, who had accompanied his wife, while the knight stood and walked toward them. The Count instinctively recoiled—undead were proud creatures, and approaching one in this state could be seen as disrespectful. A being at the peak of Epic Level could easily reduce his castle and people to ashes.

"No, wait—!"

Before he could finish, the knight knelt before Angela and embraced her.

"Mother, don't cry anymore!"

His voice, though different from before, now sounded just like it had in life. The Count and his wife froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"The Demon King brought me back to life... But now, I am an undead being. If you do not wish to see me as your son, I will understa—"

Before he could finish, his father embraced him tightly, holding him in an endless hug. His parents, overwhelmed by joy and disbelief, held onto their long-lost son, while the Living Armor, despite its faded human emotions, simply sat there, allowing them to hold him for as long as they wished.

For hours, his parents bombarded him with questions about his past, casting aside their caution in their overwhelming joy. Yet, after their initial relief, they decided to verify whether what he said was true—an investigation that took an entire day.

After that, the Living Armor chose not to leave. He remained in the castle, beside his father and mother, who no longer carried the gloom that had weighed upon them. His mother spent her days hovering around him, struggling to figure out how to show love to her son in this new state.

Standing in the castle garden, his mother held his armored hand, gazing toward the southern horizon.

"What does he want from you?"

"I haven't received any orders yet... but aside from fighting, I doubt I have any other use to him."

"Then stay here! You don't have to go!"

"If I stay, people will find out over time."

With that, he embraced his mother once more, but suddenly, his body froze, his gaze locking onto the south.

"Mother... I think something terrible is about to happen!"