The battle had not lasted particularly long. Yet Michael had already lost slightly more than twenty Rank Four undead.
It hurt, but it wasn't enough to visibly affect him or significantly strain his soul. In comparison, the wolves had suffered far greater losses, and their casualties were continuing to rise rapidly.
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"Was I really this strong already?"
He genuinely began reconsidering his recent decisions.
Naturally, Michael knew he possessed many powerful undead. Beginning. Lily. Wisdom. Jester. Lucky. Prince. Spartan. The Undead High Drake. Several others.
These were all existences Michael considered genuinely exceptional. But perhaps because these undead constantly occupied his attention, he had unconsciously overlooked the rest of his legion.
Michael possessed slightly more than three hundred Epic Grade undead. Many of these were survivors of Michael's expedition into Hell.
