The Zombie System.

"You think destroying my soldiers will save you?"

Belric's voice echoes through the marble hall as spectral energy flows into his staff from fallen ghost warriors. Each absorption makes the weapon glow brighter, pulsing with accumulated power from ancient battlefields.

Blood trickles from cuts across his face where Leon's assassin zombie found her mark with a thrown knife . But his eyes burn with renewed fury as he channels the stolen essence through bone and sinew.

Leon's warrior zombie struggles against cursed chains that erupted from cracked floor stones. The spectral bonds writhe like living things, tightening with each attempt to break free. Ancient metal links forged in wars forgotten by history.

"These chains bound kings and champions," Belric says, raising his staff overhead. "Your puppet won't escape them."

The staff strikes marble with thunderous impact. Cracks spider outward from the point of contact, sending tremors through the guild hall's foundation. Dust rains from vaulted ceilings as the building groans.

Leon's assassin zombie spins to face new threats materializing around her. Perfect copies of herself emerge from pooled shadows, each one wielding identical blades with identical skill. The mirror match begins instantly, steel ringing against steel in a deadly dance of equals.

Leon draws Shadow-edge and charges through the chaos. Dark mana flows along the blade's edge as he closes distance with the commander.

Belric sees him coming. Power surges through the old warrior's frame as he channels the strength of a war elephant into his fist. Muscles bulge beneath his cloak. Bones creak with supernatural force.

The punch catches Leon center mass. Ribs crack like kindling. Air explodes from his lungs as the impact launches him across polished stone. He slides twenty feet before momentum dies.

Pain sharpens his focus to razor clarity. Leon watches Belric's movements, studying the flow of energy between commander and army. The connection pulses like a heartbeat—visible to eyes enhanced by Dark Mana mastery.

There. The flaw reveals itself.

Belric's power depends on his spectral legion. Destroy enough soldiers simultaneously, and the magical feedback could overwhelm his defenses completely.

Leon summons his elite mage zombie. The improved undead appears with its eye socket blazing blue. Its enhanced intelligence reads the battlefield instantly.

"Break the chains," Leon gasps through broken ribs.

A focused mana bolt lances across the hall, striking the cursed bonds holding his warrior zombie. Ancient metal shatters like glass. His champion breaks free with a roar of spectral fury.

The mage zombie's second spell erupts in radiant light. The explosion disrupts shadow magic throughout the hall, dissolving the mirror clones that had pinned his assassin.

Now all three zombies move with coordinated purpose.

His warrior goes berserk, mantis-core sword trailing energy with each swing. The blade carves through ghost soldiers like wheat before a scythe. Spectral forms dissolve under its touch, their essence scattering to the winds.

His assassin becomes liquid death, flowing between enemies with impossible grace. Twin blades find gaps in phantom armor with surgical precision. Each strike disperses another soldier, weakening Belric's connection.

His mage maintains artillery support, mana bolts punching through clustered formations. Purple energy tears holes in the spectral ranks, creating openings for his companions to exploit.

In seconds, half of Belric's army ceases to exist.

The magical feedback hits like a tidal wave. Belric staggers, falling to one knee as stolen power tears through his system. His staff erupts in blue-white fire, its stored energy escaping in chaotic bursts.

Screams echo from guild balconies as members flee the unstable magic. Stone cracks under pressure that reality was never meant to contain.

Leon forces himself upright despite the agony in his chest. Shadow-edge feels heavy in his grip, but purpose drives him forward.

Belric tries to raise his ruined staff. The weapon crumbles to ash in his hands, centuries of accumulated power spent in moments. His sunken eyes meet Leon's gaze with something approaching respect.

"You fight like a true warrior," Belric whispers.

Shadow-edge plunges deep into the commander's chest. Dark mana floods through the wound, unraveling whatever magic kept the old soldier standing.

"You fought well," Leon says quietly. "But I need this strength more than you do."

Belric's body convulses once, then goes still. The remaining ghost soldiers fade like morning mist, their anchor to the world severed.

Leon's system interface blazes with notifications:

[COMMANDER BELRIC DEFEATED]

[STRENGTH: +15]

[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: SPECTRAL LEGION]

[SUMMON GHOSTLY WARRIORS FOR 10 MINUTES]

[COOLDOWN: 24 HOURS]

Power flows through Leon's enhanced frame. His broken ribs knit together as vitality floods his system. The pain recedes to manageable levels.

Around the hall, guild members whisper among themselves. Some point at Leon with fear. Others show grudging admiration for someone who defeated their champion in single combat.

Leon dismisses his zombies and walks toward the staircase leading to the upper floors. His footsteps echo in the sudden silence, each one a promise of what's coming.

Marble steps rise into shadow, leading toward whatever waits above. Tobias Virell sits somewhere in these towers, protected by wealth and influence and the belief that power shields him from consequences.

Leon climbs steadily, leaving the broken hall behind.

The guild's upper floors wait in darkness, their corridors filled with whispers and frightened voices. News of Belric's defeat spreads like wildfire through reinforced walls.

Leon's figure disappears into the shadows of the next level, his power and resolve greater than ever.