The Zombie System.

Leon still slumped against the tunnel wall, dried blood along his ribs. Each breath comes sharp and shallow. The air reeks of copper and burnt manna, when he system interface blazes

[Grave Mage Evolution Complete] [New Form: Elite Grave Mage] [Manna Cost Reduced (-20%) | Spell Precision Improved | Passive Trait Unlocked: Corpse Sense] [Elite Grave Mage is now bound – Loyalty Level: High]

The fragments reassembles into something new. Taller. Sleeker bones wrapped in semi-transparent cloth that shimmers blue with each movement. A second manna core pulses in its chest—denser, brighter.

Leon stares, still exhausted but alert. "That's one hell of a glow-up."

The zombie doesn't speak, but its nod carries weight. It isn't just summoned anymore. It belongs to him.

They then continue their mission deeper into the mine. The tunnel stretches darker ahead. Fewer torches. Walls cracked with age. Their footsteps echoes longer in the emptiness.

Leon checks his interface while they walk. Manna stabilizing. Zombie follows like a silent wraith. His new companion moves with purpose now, scanning the environment with intelligent awareness.

Rations are nearly exhaused. Water half-empty. They hadn't expected to survive this long.

Midway through a collapsed section, the Elite Grave Mage stops. One skeletal hand brushes the wall. Its head tilts, listening to something Leon can't hear.

[Corpse Sense Triggered – Detection: Concealed Passage Nearby]

The zombie raises its hand, casting a pulse of spectral energy. The wall shimmers, revealing a thin crack hidden behind stacked crates.

They cleared the debris together. A tight crawlspace leads into darkness.

"Another hunter team's hidey-hole," Elise says.

The hidden chamber beyond holds treasures. Blades lies scattered across stone shelves. Leather belts hangs from iron hooks. Satchels bulges with supplies. Dust covers everything, but the gear remains intact.

Leon finds a manna gun at the chamber's center. Sleeker than his rusted crossbow, with a three-charge reservoir and carved stabilizers designed for necrotic alignment. The weapon feels balanced in his grip.

"Perfect fit," he mutters, sliding it into his belt.

Elise rifles through potion bottles. Two still glows blue—healing draught worth more than his family's monthly rent. She finds a clean tunic, too big but better than her torn qualification uniform.

She talks while they search. "Most healers flash and impress examiners. Their buffs fades fast. Mine stick. Skin regrows right. Bones stay straight." She shrugs. "Not sexy, but it's real."

Leon nodded. "Real's what we need."

Elise's healing has a permanence other magic lacks. Leon's ribs feels solid now, properly mended rather than temporarily numb. No wonder the other qualification teams abandoned her—they wanted instant gratification, not lasting results.

A soft beep cuts through the chamber's silence.

[Time Elapsed: 2:00:00] [Qualification Complete – Extraction Imminent] [Standby – Signal Lock Detected]

Runes carved into the floor begin glowing. Teleportation magic—standard Association extraction protocol. The light swells, preparing to transport them back to the surface.

Leon stands, zombie at his back. Elise dusts off her boots. Both exhausted but upright. They survive where their teammates expects them to die.

"Ready?" Leon asks.

"As I'll ever be."

The extraction is completed in a flash of white light.

They materialize in a reinforced debriefing chamber under harsh floodlights. Three Hunter Association officials waits behind a metal table. Their faces shows professional boredom—until they look closer.

The officials stares. Past Leon's bloodstained tunic. Past his new mana gun. Their eyes fixes on the massive skull fragment strapped to his zombie's belt like a trophy.

Goblin Elite. Bone armor. Evidence of a kill that shouldn't be possible.

One official mutters, "That thing killed an elite?"

Another whispers, "F-Rank my ass."

Leon doesn't blink. His zombie stands perfectly still, awaiting orders. The skull fragment gleams under the fluorescent lights—proof of what two F-Ranks can accomplish when the world expects them to fail.

The lead official clears his throat. "Names?"

"Leon Graves. F-Rank Necromancer."

"Elise Traven. F-Rank Healer."

"Team status?"

"Separated from the others during tunnel collapse," Leon said. The lie came easily. "We proceeded alone."

The officials exchange glances. Their tablets shows readings that doesn't match expectations. F-Ranks aren't meant to clear qualification dungeons. They certainly aren't meant to kill elite monsters.

"Equipment acquisition?"

"Found gear in abandoned cache. Previous hunter team, presumably deceased."

The skull fragment draws their attention again. Elite Goblins are C-Rank threats minimum. The paperwork will be complicated.

"Stand by for medical evaluation," the lead official says. "Then licensing review."

Leon and Elise waits while Association healers performs standard post-dungeon scans. The medics finds their injuries properly treated, their manna signatures stable, their equipments legal.

Everything checks out. Somehow.

The licensing official stamps their papers with obvious reluctance. "Congratulations. You're officially licensed hunters."

Leon tucks his new license into his pocket. Basic F-Rank credentials, but credentials nonetheless. The first step toward earning enough money to save his mother.

They walk towards the exit together. Other qualification groups clusters around the processing area. Higher-rank students laughs with their teammates. Guild recruiters circles promising candidates.

No one looks at Leon and Elise. F-Ranks remains invisible even after accomplishing the impossible.

"What now?" Elise asks.

Leon checks the job board near the exit. Dozens of low-paying assignments waits. Sewer clearing. Pest control. The kind of work that keeps F-Ranks busy and poor.

His zombie materializes beside him, translucent and patient. The evolved summon represents power beyond conventional necromancy. Power that can be leveraged for better opportunities.

"Now we get to work."

The Association clerk processes their paperwork without looking up. "Standard F-Rank assignments available at Station Seven. Payment on completion. No advances."

Leon studies the available jobs. Most offers copper coins for dangerous work. But one listing catches his attention—a private contract post on the Shadow Quarter board.

Higher risk. Better pay. Perfect for hunters willing to operate outside official channels.

"Elise," he says quietly. "Interested in making real money?"