The Zombie System.

Leon walks past the stunned checkpoint guard without another word. Blood still stains his clothes from the fight in the chamber. The warrior zombie has already dissolved back into his system, leaving no trace of the massacre below.

As he steps into the city, the fresh air hits him like a splash of cold water after hours in the dungeon's stale atmosphere. The sounds of life envelop him—merchants hawking their goods, children playing in the side streets, the everyday noise of ordinary people.

Leon pulls his hood up and keeps walking. The blood on his gear would draw attention if anyone looks too closely. Four dead ARES hunters mean investigations, questions, and manhunts. It's better to blend into the crowd and handle his business quietly.

His first stop is three districts away in the warehouse quarter. Jin's Acquisitions occupies a narrow building between a leather worker and a grain merchant. There are no signs or advertisements—just a plain door that opens for the right customer.

Leon knocks twice, pauses, then knocks three more times.

The door cracks open. Jin's weathered face appears in the gap, eyes scanning the street behind Leon before settling on his bloodstained clothes.

"Busy day?" Jin's voice holds no judgment; blood usually means profit in his work.

"You could say that."

Jin opens the door wider, and Leon steps into a cramped room lined with weapons, armor, and artifacts that don't officially exist. Everything here has a history—usually a violent one.

Leon pulls items from his inventory: Kalden's enhanced gauntlets, Serik's chain fragments, Minseo's throwing knives and stealth cloak, Marsen's fire sword, and an ARES Guild badge.

Jin examines each piece with a practiced eye, his fingers tracing the guild insignia, recognizing the craftsmanship and rarity.

"ARES equipment," Jin says, tone neutral. "Recent acquisition?"

"They weren't using it anymore."

Jin nods, understanding perfectly. Dead hunters leave valuable gear behind, and savvy scavengers know how to profit from tragedy.

He spends twenty minutes evaluating the haul, testing enchantments, checking for tracking spells, and calculating black market values based on rarity and risk.

"Two thousand gold," Jin says finally. "Cash. No records."

Leon counts each coin carefully before pocketing the heavy purse. It's enough money to transform his living situation and fund serious equipment upgrades.

"Pleasure doing business," Jin says as Leon heads for the door.

"Always is."

Leon's next destination is the Hunter Association building in the administrative district. The marble steps are crowded with hunters conducting official business, such as license renewals, mission reports, and rank evaluations.

He finds a public washroom and cleans the worst of the blood from his clothes. Fresh bandages cover visible cuts, and a clean shirt from his inventory replaces the torn one. When he emerges, Leon looks like any other hunter seeking advancement.

The rank evaluation office buzzes with nervous energy. Dozens of hunters wait in line, clutching documentation and practice weapons. Most will fail; advancement requires more than just wishful thinking.

Leon joins the queue behind a nervous D-Rank warrior who keeps checking his gear obsessively. The man's hands shake as he reviews his qualification papers.

"First time?" Leon asks quietly.

"Second attempt at C-Rank," the warrior replies, voice cracking. "Failed the combat test last time. The examiner said my technique was sloppy."

Leon nods sympathetically. Rank advancement is brutal. The Association can't afford to promote hunters who would die in higher-tier dungeons.

The line moves slowly. Each evaluation takes at least thirty minutes. Leon watches other applicants emerge from testing rooms—some celebrating, others walking away in defeat.

After an hour of waiting, his turn comes. The examination room is sterile white, with magical monitoring equipment built into the walls.

"Leon Graves, F-Rank Necromancer," the examiner reads from his file. "Requesting advancement to E-Rank. Please display your identification."

Leon shows his ash-gray badge. The examiner's scanner analyzes its authenticity before recording the serial number.

"Demonstration of current capabilities, please."

Leon summons his Elite Grave Mage. The spectral figure materializes with practiced ease, blue flames flickering in its empty sockets. The examiner's equipment registers the undead's power level and magical density.

"Interesting. Your necromancy control has improved significantly since your initial classification." The examiner makes notes on his tablet. "Combat assessment next."

A training dummy rises from the floor, enchanted to test damage output and tactical thinking. Leon directs his zombie through a series of attacks while monitoring spells and tracking their coordination.

The dummy falls apart under sustained assault. Leon's zombie exceeds E-Rank damage thresholds by comfortable margins.

"Manna pool analysis."

Sensors measure Leon's magical capacity and regeneration rate. Numbers scroll across displays as the equipment catalogs his advancement.

"Remarkable improvement in such a short time-frame." The examiner's tone carries professional curiosity. "Have you been receiving specialized training?"

"Solo practice. Trial and error."

"Effective methods, apparently." The examiner stamps Leon's paperwork with official seals. "Congratulations. You've qualified for E-Rank status."

Leon accepts his new badge—iron gray instead of ash. The upgrade feels heavier in his palm, weighted with increased authority and responsibility.

"Your updated license will be processed within forty-eight hours. Welcome to E-Rank, Hunter Graves."

Leon leaves the building with quiet satisfaction. From F to E in less than a month—faster than most hunters manage in years of dedicated effort.

------

Meanwhile, across the city in the ARES Guild headquarters, Tobias Virell sits behind a grand mahogany desk. His office occupies the building's top floor, with windows offering commanding views of the commercial district.

Rich tapestries cover the walls, depicting guild victories and conquered dungeons. Trophy weapons from fallen enemies decorate marble stands, designed to project power and intimidate visitors.

A messenger enters, his footsteps muffled by the expensive carpet. He bows deeply before approaching the desk.

"Sir, your brother hasn't returned from his dungeon clearing."

Tobias's expression remains unchanged. His golden pen continues tapping against the leather-bound reports in a steady rhythm: tap, tap, tap.

"How long overdue?"

"Six hours past scheduled extraction, sir. His team was investigating the Serpent's Den for unauthorized activity."

Tobias's hand stills. Marsen took three experienced hunters on what should have been routine reconnaissance. Delays usually mean complications.

"Find out what happened. I want confirmation."

The guild commander steps forward from his position by the window. Marcus Steele has served the guild for fifteen years, and his scarred armor tells stories of battles he has survived.

"Investigation is already underway, sir. No witnesses have been identified yet."

Tobias's hand curls into a fist, the golden pen bending slightly under pressure from his enhanced grip.

"Nobody touches my family and lives."

His voice carries the cold certainty of someone accustomed to making examples of enemies. The ARES Guild's reputation is built on swift, brutal retaliation against anyone threatening their interests.

"Understood, sir. I'll personally oversee the investigation."

The messenger backs away toward the door, recognizing the dangerous shift in atmosphere. Tobias's patience has limits, and wise subordinates know not to test them.

Commander Steele remains at attention as the messenger departs. His weathered face shows no emotion, but decades of service have taught him to read his guild leader's moods.

Tobias turns to stare out his office window. The city sprawls below, filled with millions of people who live and die according to forces beyond their control.

One of them has killed his brother. Soon, that person will learn the price of crossing the ARES Guild.

------

Leon walks the city streets with his new E-Rank badge secure in his pocket. The heavy purse of gold coins shifts against his hip with each step. Two thousand gold represents more wealth than his family has seen in years.

The afternoon crowd flows around him—merchants closing daily business, workers heading home, children playing games in market squares. Normal people living everyday lives, unaware of the violence that shapes their world.

Leon keeps his head down, observing without drawing attention. The city feels different now that he carries real power and resources. Options that hadn't existed before suddenly seem possible.

Equipment upgrades. Better housing. Advanced training materials. Maybe even specialized education for his enhanced abilities.

But first, he needs to avoid the consequences of his actions. Four dead guild hunters will trigger investigations. The ARES Guild commands respect through fear and reputation. They won't ignore the loss of Tobias Virell's brother.

Leon passes a news board where fresh notices are posted—wanted posters for criminals, missing person reports, and standard urban announcements.

He pauses to read the latest additions, looking for any mention of the missing hunters. Nothing yet, but that will change once their bodies are discovered.

His route takes him through the residential quarter where his mother lives. Normal families occupy modest apartments, and their concerns are limited to rent payments and neighborhood gossip.

Leon envies their simplicity. Power brings opportunities, but also enemies and responsibilities that never end.

He reaches his building as evening shadows lengthen across the narrow streets. The familiar climb to the third floor feels different with a purse full of gold and strength that can crack stone.

His small room waits unchanged—narrow bed, single window, wooden crate containing his few possessions. But now these limitations feel temporary rather than permanent.

Leon sits on his bed and empties the coin purse onto the threadbare blankets. Gold pieces catch the lamplight, creating patterns of wealth and possibility.

He counts carefully, organizing coins by denomination and condition. Two thousand exactly. Enough to upgrade everything about his current situation.

Leon holds his new badge up to the light. Iron gray instead of ash. E-Rank carries privileges that F-Rank hunters can only dream about.

Better mission assignments, access to restricted dungeons, and equipment discounts at registered dealers are minor improvements that accumulate into significant advantages.

But this is only the beginning. E-Rank is still the bottom tier among serious hunters. Real power requires advancement into D-Rank and beyond.

Leon pockets the coins and badge, his mind already working on improvement strategies—training regimens, equipment priorities, alliance possibilities.

He leans back against his thin pillow, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in after a day filled with violence and relentless progress.

"E-Rank," he murmurs to the empty room, a hint of determination in his voice. "Next stop: D."