The Zombie System.

Leon stretches, feeling the surge of power in his enhanced muscles. Fifty points in vitality make a noticeable difference. His bones feel denser, his movements sharper—reflexes tuned like a predator's.

Morning sunlight slices through the apartment's faded curtains like golden blades. The smell of breakfast drifts from the kitchen—eggs sizzling in oil, toast browning slowly. His mother is already up, moving with quiet purpose.

Leon arranges his gear with practiced ease: Shadow-edge slides into its scabbard, and Void-reaper clicks into its holster. The weight feels heavier now—not physically, but symbolically. These aren't tools for swatting sewer rats anymore. These are weapons for war.

"Leon?" His mother's voice floats in from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready."

He steps in and finds her plating scrambled eggs beside buttered toast. Steam curls from a fresh mug of coffee—rich, earthy, and grounding. It smells like hope and second chances.

"Big day today?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

"C-rank dungeon. Testing the new equipment."

She nods, understanding more than the simple words reveal. "Be careful."

"Always am."

His tab buzzes against the table. He brings it out and read Elise's message.

I'm at the Association gate. Should I bring coffee?

Just bring your A-game.

Already strapped to my back, Captain.

Leon grins. Her energy always meets his own stride for stride.

As he finishes breakfast, he opens his system interface. Blue text overlays his vision—clean, sharp, and unseen by anyone but him.

Today is about power. Testing limits. Seeing just how far he can go.

───────[LEON GRAVES]──────────

Level: 22

Health: 500/500

Mana: 930/930

Available Stat Points: 150

The numbers still amazes him. Two weeks ago, he'd been scraping by with basic undead that barely functioned. Now his zombies operate like a special forces unit.

Leon distributes his remaining points with strategic precision:

[Strength: 45 → 77]

[Vitality: 50 → 80]

[Agility: 53 → 83]

[Magic: 62 → 120]

Power hums through Leon like electricity. His reflection in the kitchen window looks the same, but everything beneath the surface has changed.

"I'll be back by evening," he says, kissing his mother's forehead. "The new apartment papers are on the counter. Start packing whenever you're ready."

Her eyes mist with emotion. "I still can't believe it's real."

"Believe it. No more Shadow Quarter. No more leaking pipes or drug dealers in the hallway."

He leaves her smiling over her coffee.

The Association plaza buzzes with morning activity. Hunters cluster around mission boards. Coffee vendors shout orders to bleary-eyed mercs. It's the usual chaos—and oddly comforting.

Elise waits by the main gate, her staff slung across her back like a flagpole. She spots him and snaps a teasing salute.

"Captain Graves, reporting for duty."

"Cut the military crap," Leon replies, but he can't stop the smile tugging at his lips.

Other hunters notice him. Whispers follow his steps. Some stare. Fame still sits awkwardly on his shoulders—visible but uninvited.

Four additional party members stand near the C-rank registry. Leon studies them as he approaches.

Tank: Marcus Stone. Heavy armor. Tower shield. A jaw like carved granite. The kind of guy who probably eats pain for breakfast.

Mage: Sarah Kim. Young, nervous energy crackling under control. Her staff flickers with charged light—fresh out of the academy.

Scout: Jake Morrison. Lean build. Leather gear. Compound bow slung across his back. Sharp posture that screams former military.

Tommy, lean figure who is a wind runner, not much help that will be but appreciated nonetheless.

Their expressions shift when they realize who they're paired with. Excitement mixes with intimidation. Leon's used to that reaction by now.

"I'm Leon," he says simply. "You know the reputation. What matters is whether you can keep up."

Marcus steps forward first. "I've tanked for B-ranks. I won't slow you down."

Sarah nods quickly. "Lightning specialist. Crowd control and burst damage."

Jake's voice is cool and precise. "Recon and precision shots. I don't miss."

"Good enough." Leon checks his gear one last time. "Formation's simple. Marcus takes point. Sarah and Elise handle support from the rear. Jake handles the flanks. I adapt and command as needed."

They approach the C-rank gate. Crimson light spills from the dimensional tear, twisting the air like liquid fire.

Leon shows his badge to the checkpoint guard. "Six-person team. Standard clear."

The guard's eyes widen as he spots the name on the ID. "Y-yes, sir. Good hunting."

The transition hits like cold water. One blink, and solid ground becomes humid dungeon air thick with moss, rust, and decay.

Stone corridors stretch into darkness, walls carved with shifting runes that resist direct focus. Growls echo faintly from deep ahead.

"Stay sharp," Leon says. "C-rank means everything here can kill you."

They move in clean formation. Marcus leads with his shield raised. Sarah's staff pulses with held power. Jake slips into the shadows, a ghost on the edge of vision.

The first threat drops fast.

Three crystal spiders descend from the ceiling, their legs scraping stone like shattered glass.

"Spread out!" Leon commands.

Marcus slams his shield into the lead spider. Chitin cracks. Sarah fires a lightning bolt that strikes another mid-leap—its body convulses and drops in smoking pieces.

Leon draws Shadow-edge and channels Dark Manna through the blade. One clean swing, and he severs a spider's leg. Dark ichor sprays across the dungeon walls.

Jake's arrow whistles through the last spider's face, silencing it mid-lunge.

"Clean," Leon says, scanning the group. "Anyone hurt?"

All shake their heads.

Leon opens his system interface and distributes earned experience. His coordination buffs make it feel like they've been fighting together for years instead of minutes.

[Combat Experience: +18]

[Zombie Coordination: +3]

[Threat Adaptation: +2% - Enemies 1 level above current]

They push deeper.

Encounters escalate—acid-slugs that spit from walls, armored beetles that charge like living tanks, crystalline constructs that regenerate unless shattered at the core.

Leon rotates his undead with surgical precision. His warrior zombie steps in when Marcus falters. The assassin zombie eliminates runners. The mage zombie freezes packs before they even get close.

The post already racks up fifty replies, complete with screenshots from entry cams and speculation about his next move.

Elise leans over his shoulder. "Pressure's on."

"Good," Leon mutters. "Pressure makes diamonds."

After two hours of methodical clearing, they reach the final chamber.

Twin lizard bosses stand in a cavern heavy with venom stink and sulfur heat. Twelve feet long. Emerald-scaled. Acid dripping from jagged fangs that sizzle stone on contact.

"Coordinated attacks only," Leon says. "If we split them, we die."

The fight erupts in chaos.

Acid breath forces nonstop repositioning. One tail swipe from either beast could crush bones. When one gets hurt, the other goes berserk.

Leon adapts mid-combat. His commands shift rapidly—changing targets, rotating positions, maximizing every cool-down window. His enhanced agility lets him dance around acid jets that would've killed him days ago.

Marcus takes a tail to the ribs—three crack audibly—but Elise keeps him upright with fast healing bursts.

Sarah burns through her entire manna pool just to get past their armored hides. Jake picks off weakened targets, exploiting the openings Leon carves with Shadow-edge.

The kill sequence is brutal.

Leon's warrior zombie tackles one lizard, locking its jaws in a death grip. Leon seizes the opening and decapitates the second with a clean strike, dark blood erupting like a geyser.

Silence settles. The cavern breathes with their exhaustion.

Loot shimmers around the corpses—manna cores, venom sacs, scaled hide with rare resistances.

Elise wipes sweat from her brow, still grinning. "So, Captain, what's the plan for the big room?"

Leon sheaths Shadow-edge, his eyes gleaming with momentum. The team worked like a machine—no hesitation, no casualties, just precision.

"We finish strong. No mistakes. Let's move."

He leads the way toward the treasure chamber, each footstep echoing with the confidence of someone who's no longer chasing power—he's commanding it.