Leon stepped out of the Celestial Awakening Hall, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a dull thud. The cold evening air struck his face, but it didn't clear his head—it only sharpened the noise still echoing in his ears.
Laughter.
Mocking.
The mechanical voice of the orb announcing his class, followed by silence so loud it rang.
He didn't know where he was going. His feet moved on their own, down polished stone steps, then out into the busy streets of Ironvale City, where the real celebration had already begun.
Newly awakened adventurers flooded the squares and alleyways. Torches flickered along the city's main plaza, casting a warm glow over groups huddled around food stalls, merchants, recruiters. The air buzzed with shouts and laughter and the easy joy of people whose futures were now secured.
He walked with his head low, his hands buried in his coat pockets, his shadow trailing long and thin behind him.
Nobody stopped him. Nobody noticed.
His name had already been erased.
He looked up at the floating projection above the marketplace—a shimmering holographic board casting white light over the crowd.
Top Awakenings – Royal Record BroadcastDamian Falken – A-Rank Warblade (Signed to Ironfang Guild)Elara Morn – S-Rank Holy Paladin (Personally Invited to Sanctuary Guild)Gareth Rael – B-Rank Arcane Swordsman (Selected for Elite Training Program)
His name wasn't there.
Not in the top ranks. Not at the bottom.
Not at all.
His hands curled into fists.
It wasn't just rejection—it was erasure. As if he'd never existed.
A Future Denied
He turned into a quieter street, trying to escape the celebration. But the city wouldn't let him.
Voices bled through alleyways. Light from taverns spilled onto the cobblestones. The sound of mugs clinking and guild songs rising in drunken rhythm filled the air.
Then, ahead—an emblem carved into stone caught his eye.
[Titan's Vanguard – Recruitment Post]
A guild banner hung above the entryway, proud and gold-trimmed. Below it, a parchment had been nailed to a wooden board, its lettering neat and merciless.
REQUIREMENTS FOR ENTRY:Minimum Power Rank: ECombat Role RequiredSupport Classes ConsideredNecromancers: Disqualified by Order
Leon's heart sank. Not even the smallest chance.
He stepped back.
The heavy guild doors creaked open.
A group of young adventurers poured out, laughing as they slapped shoulders and compared weapons. Their armor gleamed under the lanterns, newly issued and barely scratched. One of them—a tall guy with a spear slung across his back—caught sight of Leon.
His eyes narrowed in recognition.
"Wait a second…" The spearman squinted, then grinned. "You're that kid from the Awakening Hall, right?"
A rogue beside him let out a short bark of laughter. "No way—that's the Zombie guy?"
Leon didn't stop walking.
He kept his eyes forward.
But they followed him.
"Man," the rogue called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Even Slime Tamers get more respect. At least slimes can bounce."
The group howled, doubling over in laughter.
Leon clenched his jaw. His stride quickened.
The sounds chased him, stuck like burrs in his mind.
The Final Blow
He turned a corner, ready to disappear.
Instead, a man stepped into his path.
Well-dressed. Black suit. Gold trim.
The Titan's Vanguard emblem shined from his chest like a badge of judgment.
Leon stopped, breath catching in his throat.
"A moment," the man said. His tone was crisp, calculated. "Leon Drayven?"
Leon nodded.
The recruiter looked him up and down—not with disdain. Not with curiosity.
With amusement.
"We watched your awakening," he said.
Leon's heart kicked once against his ribs.
"And we do have an opening," the man continued. "Nothing on the combat side, of course. But you're welcome to join our maintenance crew. Cleaning, sweeping, latrine duty. That sort of thing."
Leon didn't respond.
Couldn't.
The recruiter smiled, too polished to be kind.
"Good to know the undead have a knack for cleaning up after the living."
Behind him, the other adventurers—the ones from earlier—burst into another fit of laughter.
"Trash cleaning up trash," someone muttered.
Leon's vision blurred at the edges, but his expression didn't change. Not even a twitch.
He walked away.
Not a word.
Not a backward glance.
But his fists trembled at his sides, fingers digging into his palms until the skin creaked.
A Room Without Light
By the time Leon reached his apartment, the city had gone quiet.
His room was small. A single bed. A cracked mirror. Walls that trapped heat in the summer and leaked cold in the winter.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
The voices from earlier looped in his mind.
Zombie Lord. Janitor. Not even worth a slime.
His own reflection stared back at him from the mirror. Pale. Eyes sunken. Lips pressed into a line too tight to be called calm.
"Am I really just… trash?" he whispered.
The words hung in the air, unanswered.
Then—
Ding.
A sound not from the room, not from the city.
From inside him.
His vision flickered blue.
A translucent interface blinked into view, hanging in the air like a fragment of something not meant for this world.
[System Detected… Initializing…][Zombie Lord System Activated][Beginner Summon Available]
Leon's breath caught.
This wasn't the usual interface given to necromancers. It wasn't bound by glyphs or incantations. It was clean. Artificial. Mechanical.
Another message appeared.
[This System Does Not Follow the Rules of This World.][Do You Wish to Begin?]
Leon stared at the screen, unmoving.
The glow lit his face, outlining the cracks that had started forming since the ceremony.
He didn't believe in miracles.
But he believed in second chances.
He reached out.
And touched the screen.
(TO BE CONTINUED)