GravewalkerThe Echo After the Kill
The last goblin twitched once before going still.
Its charred body slumped over a jagged slab of stone, smoke rising from the ragged hole torn clean through its chest. Mana residue still sizzled in the air, curling into slow wisps that spiraled toward the cracked ceiling above.
Leon adjusted the grip on his mana gun.
His breathing was steady. Not calm—measured.
His Zombie Mage hovered near the edge of the corridor, eyes dimmed but watchful. The Warrior Zombie loomed behind him like a second shadow, greatsword still slick with fresh blood.
Leon took two steps forward, approaching the glowing shard nestled in the goblin's remains.
He knelt. Extended a gloved hand.
[Item Acquired – Cracked Beast Core (Tier F+)]
Then he heard it.
Boots. Five sets. Stone. Fast.
Too loud for goblins. Too light for guards.
He stood without looking up.
Uninvited Guests
They arrived in formation—five adventurers, casually confident. Too organized to be random. Too mismatched to be a guild.
Mercs, maybe.
No—opportunists.
Their gear was worn. Their faces smug. Their leader, a lean swordsman with spiked hair and a chipped blade, tilted his head with mock amusement.
"Look at that," he said. "A necromancer in a dungeon all by his lonesome."
Leon didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
His mind registered five threats.
Swordsman: Light armor. Close-combat. Fast.
Axe-user: Heavier. Muscle type. Likely second wave.
Mage: Staff user, casting circles already glowing faintly on her bracers.
Rogue: Off to the right. Flanking angle. Too quiet.
Archer: Rear guard. Arrow nocked. Loose posture.
None of them had insignias.
None of them wore defensive enchantments.
And none of them had any clue what they'd just walked into.
The rogue smirked. "Kinda late to be looting, don't you think?"
The mage leaned lazily on her staff. "Guess the undead aren't great at keeping watch."
Leon said nothing.
He studied their spacing.
The zombie pair were within striking distance. His mana chamber was half-full. No cooldowns active.
He could kill all five before any of them reached him.
Arrogance Before Execution
The swordsman stepped forward, dragging his blade against the wall. It sparked with each step.
"Hand over the loot," he said, grin wide. "And maybe we won't feed your summons to the rats."
Leon's eyes flicked past him—to the rogue shifting to his blind side.
To the archer lining up a shot.
To the mage tightening her grip around her casting focus.
None of them knew.
None of them felt it.
The pressure. The wrongness. The silence before the system moved.
His Warrior Zombie remained still.
The Mage's eyes glowed faintly.
Waiting.
The mage girl rolled her eyes. "He's one of those types. Silent and spooky. Always dies first."
Leon tilted his head slightly.
Then spoke.
"…You're finished."
The swordsman's brow furrowed.
"What'd you say?"
Leon raised one hand. Fingers spread. Palm facing down.
And he gave the order:
"Kill them all."
System Unleashed – The Execution Begins
The moment the words left his mouth, the corridor exploded into motion.
The Zombie Mage vanished from visibility, a Mana Bolt already forming mid-drift.
The archer blinked once—then dropped. The shot fired, but the bolt struck his neck mid-loose, cutting off the spell as he fell backward, blood spilling across his quiver.
The rogue lunged, twin daggers flashing.
He never reached Leon.
The Warrior Zombie stepped forward and slammed its armored forearm into the rogue's ribs with bone-cracking force. The man crumpled into the wall with a wet crack, breath gone, spine shattered.
The axe-user roared and charged.
Big mistake.
Leon pivoted, gun raised, and fired twice.
First bullet tore through the man's knee. The second entered his chest an inch beneath the collarbone.
He staggered.
Then the Warrior Zombie reached him.
And split him down the middle.
Blood sprayed across the corridor walls. His torso folded to the floor in two uneven halves.
The mage screamed.
Her casting glyph finally surged to life—but too late.
The Zombie Mage was already behind her.
She turned.
Too slow.
The bolt struck her in the face. Skull. Gone.
She dropped.
One Left Standing
Only the swordsman remained.
He took a slow step back, eyes wide.
"You—what the hell are you?"
Leon lowered his weapon.
He didn't answer.
The swordsman looked down at his ruined team.
He saw the mage's smoldering body. The rogue's twisted corpse. The split remains of his tank.
And finally understood.
He tried to run.
Leon didn't stop him.
Not yet.
The Warrior Zombie stepped forward, slow, dragging the sword along the floor with a scrape that filled the hall like a warning.
The swordsman made it five steps before the blade caught up with his spine.
One clean upward arc.
No scream.
Just the sound of bones parting.
System Response – The World Takes Note
As silence returned, the blood pooled beneath Leon's boots.
His gun clicked once—cooling cycle recharging.
His summons returned to position without being told.
A new message blinked across his vision:
[System Notification: New Title Acquired – "The Gravewalker"] Description: Eliminate a full enemy party without taking damage. Inspire fear. Enforce silence.
Leon didn't react.
He holstered his gun.
The corridor behind him was painted in red. The gear scattered across the stone, untouched. He didn't loot them.
He didn't need to.
This was never about resources.
It was about message.
About precision.
He looked to his summons—one cloaked in flickering blue, one plated in cracked iron and blood.
They stood like soldiers.
Because that's what they were.
And the dungeon ahead was waiting.