A Body Forged in Battle
The wind shifted as Leon stepped out of the collapsed dungeon, the smell of burnt stone and mana residue still clinging to his cloak. Behind him, the battlefield was quiet—nothing left but fractured stone, blood-soaked debris, and the scattered remains of something that once ruled a dungeon.
The Cyclops had fallen.
And with it, the dungeon.
His muscles ached—not with weakness, but with the sharp tension that came from holding back too little, too long.
He rolled his shoulders.
Something had changed.
Not just around him—inside.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You Have Gained 7 Free Stat Points]
He opened his status screen, for the first time truly reading it as a general would his war table.
The interface had changed.
More precise. Sharper. Tailored.
Name: Leon Drayven| Class: Zombie Lord| Level: 9| Traits: Tactical AI / Core Bond Mode / Weapon Augmentation| Free Stat Points: 7
He moved with deliberate intent.
Strength: 5 → 7Close-range control. Not all threats stay at range.Stamina: 6 → 9Sustain through chaos. More orders. Longer fights.Mana: 10 → 12Fuel. Command. Control. Every pulse matters.
[Stats Updated Successfully]
The response was subtle but immediate. His breath evened. His muscles felt lighter, but more grounded. He didn't feel faster.
He felt prepared.
Like his body had finally caught up to what his mind demanded of it.
Weapon Augmentation – A Necromancer's Edge
Another prompt blinked into view.
[Weapon Augmentation Available – Apply Upgrade?]
Leon's eyes flicked to his mana gun—still dark, still warm from the final shot that felled the Cyclops.
The barrel trembled faintly in his grip, sensing the system's touch. Not just a tool anymore. It had become something more—personal.
He accessed the upgrade interface.
[Select Enhancement Type:]
Piercing Shot – Ignore light armor
Explosive Round – Minor area damage
Cursed Shot – Drain minor energy per hit
He didn't hesitate.
Piercing.
He had seen the Warlord tank spells. Watched his bullets bounce off constructs.
He would never let that happen again.
[Piercing Shot – Confirmed]
His gun pulsed, mana flowing through its circuits as the metal warped slightly. Necrotic etchings grew like veins across its barrel. Crimson lines pulsed in rhythmic intervals—almost like a heartbeat.
He raised it.
A boulder rested a dozen meters away—thick, dense, unmarked.
He fired.
The round tore through it like paper. A clean hole on one side. A jagged tear on the exit.
Perfect.
The Question That Lurks
He lowered the weapon, exhaling slowly.
The silence around him was total.
The dungeon behind him had crumbled into nothing. Dust and fragmented walls spiraled into the wind, dissolving as though they'd never existed.
That was the rule.
Boss dies. Dungeon vanishes. Loot drops. World resets.
But it didn't sit right with him.
Where do dungeons come from?
No one questioned it. Not really.
Monsters didn't reproduce. They didn't migrate. They just… spawned. From holes in the world, carrying no history—just aggression, territory, and rewards.
And his system?
No origin. No voice. Just power on demand.
Why him?
Why now?
Was it fate?
Was it design?
He didn't know.
But he would find out.
New Path – Into the Undercity
He turned from the ruins and looked toward the city beyond the ridge.
Even from this distance, he could make out the faint glow of the noble quarter's towers, the rigid geometry of the Guild halls, the web of lights that carved through the slums like veins.
But that wasn't where he was going.
Not the Guild. Not the Academy.
Those places taught rules.
He was looking for something buried beneath them.
Something forgotten.
A place where exiles whispered to curses.
Where failed alchemists sold spells outlawed for a reason.
Where necromancers who had stopped pretending to be human gathered around tables carved from tombstones.
The Underblack.
Not just a market.
A vault of forbidden knowledge.
Spells that tore open bloodlines.
Weapons forged from dungeon cores.
And, most importantly—
The secrets of undead evolution.
Leon's cloak flared behind him as he began to walk.
He had reached the system's edge.
Now he would step past it.
Not Just Stronger – Smarter
This wasn't about more dungeons.
More bosses.
More levels.
It was about control.
Mastery.
He had seen what his summons could become with one evolution.
What if they could evolve again?
What if he could manipulate those forms—restructure them, layer commands, write behavior into the bone?
He needed grimoires.
Forbidden tomes.
He needed the kind of knowledge that made Guild leaders flinch and city nobles send assassins.
He needed the truth.
End of a Path – Beginning of a Doctrine
As he moved down the ridge, the city lights dimmed behind the hills. The forest road curved low, narrowing into an old trail that hadn't seen traffic in years.
He passed rusted signs. Ruined wards. A crumbled statue of an angel, its head missing, a black flower blooming from its chest.
His summons followed in silence.
The Elite Undead Sorcerer glided behind him, eyes dimmed but aware.
The Warrior Zombie walked with weight in its steps, armor repaired but scratched. Every scar told the story of survival.
They weren't just undead anymore.
They were becoming something else.
And so was he.
To Be Continued…