Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Arven’s tone lingered in the air, thick and unsettling. His lips curved again into that familiar grin, but it no longer reached his eyes.

"Well then, what’s it going to be?"

Michael didn’t answer. Neither did Rynne. Even the third student remained silent.

Arven’s grin widened, clearly amused by their hesitation. "Of course, I already said it’s mandatory for the top three. You must go to Hell."

"But," Arven added, leaning forward with mock sympathy, "if you truly don’t want to go, arrangements can be made."

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Arrangements?"

Arven nodded. "Yes, yes. Nothing so dramatic. I’m a reasonable man." His grin turned sharp. "For those who prefer not to step into Hell, someone would just replace them."

Arven waved his hand lazily. He let the words hang there for a long moment, then looked at each of them in turn, his eyes gleaming faintly. "So, what will it be?"

His voice dropped an octave, losing all traces of humor. "Go to Hell... or be replaced?"

Before any of them could answer, Arven clapped his hands again and smiled as if none of that had happened. "Splendid!" he said cheerfully. "I’ll take that silence as a yes."

Rynne glanced sideways at Michael, her brow furrowing slightly. Michael didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed fixed on the director.

In the end, Michael signed.