The task was done.
Michael stood at the edge of the shallow forest clearing, arms crossed as he looked over the small group of undead creatures before him.
The once-living beasts—low-level forest scavengers, twisted hounds, and a horned tusk-hog—now stood in silence, swaying gently in the wind.
He'd barely broken a sweat.
The mission had been listed as "High Iron," but in truth, the beasts were weak.
Dangerous only to beginners or those without real power.
To Michael, it had been little more than a formality—a stepping stone.
And now, looking at the obedient undead before him, he had his answer.
"It's just as I thought," he said aloud, voice quiet in the breeze. "As long as I'm strong enough, the process is clean. Smooth."
This group of monsters were just summoned from the Netherworld.
Michael stepped forward and circled the undead horned hog. Its body still bore the signs of its short battle with him—for example, a broken leg—but it didn't matter anymore.
