Mara's eyes flicked again to the blood behind her, then back to me.
"You're not here to scavenge," she said slowly. "You're hunting."
I didn't deny it.
Instead, I took a step closer—just enough for her to feel the pressure. Not threat. Authority.
"This district won't stay quiet," I said. "Orcs are moving in from the south. A warlord, too. Hero patrols will follow. When they clash, people like you die first."
Her jaw tightened. "You sound very sure."
I leaned in, voice low. "Because I already killed them once."
That earned me a sharp look. "Once?"
I straightened and gestured vaguely toward the distance—toward the dungeon's direction, though she couldn't see it. "What's coming back isn't the same."
Silence stretched between us.
Then she asked the right question. "What do you want?"
Good. Smart.
"Protection," I said. "Information. Materials when you find them."
She scoffed lightly. "That's it?"
I smiled, showing just a hint of teeth. "For now."
"And in return?" she asked.
I met her gaze fully.
"You live," I said. "You enchant without interruption. And when monsters or heroes decide you're convenient collateral… they disappear."
The System stirred.
Mara hesitated. I could see the calculation behind her eyes—risk versus reward, survival versus independence.
Finally, she nodded once.
"Fine," she said. "But I don't take orders."
"I don't give them," I replied. "I give outcomes."
That seemed to satisfy her.
A scream echoed in the distance—cut short.
I turned toward it instinctively.
"Stay close," I said. "If you fall behind, I won't save you."
She smirked faintly. "Wouldn't expect you to."
As we moved, Shadow's presence sharpened in my shadow, pleased.
I hadn't come here for an ally.
But power attracts tools.
And tools… could become something more.
The ground shook.
Not subtly. Not like distant thunder.
This was weight. Mass. Intention.
Mara felt it too. She froze, hand tightening around her dagger. "That's not goblins."
"No," I said. "That's discipline."
From between the ruined buildings, they emerged.
Orcs.
Eight grunts first—broad-shouldered, gray-green skin etched with ritual scars. Crude armor reinforced with bone and steel. Heavy axes and cleavers resting casually on their shoulders.
Behind them came the warlord.
He stood nearly three meters tall, clad in layered iron plates etched with crimson runes. A massive greataxe rested against his shoulder, its blade nicked and dark with old blood. His tusks were capped in gold, eyes burning with calm, practiced brutality.
An orc that had survived long enough to lead.
Mara whispered, "We can't fight that."
I smiled.
"Stay behind me."
The warlord sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. His gaze snapped to me instantly.
"Human," he rumbled. "You reek of blood and authority."
Interesting. He could feel it.
I stepped forward.
The grunts spread out automatically, forming a half-circle. Trained. Efficient. No wasted motion.
Good.
"Kill him," the warlord said. "Leave the woman breathing."
Wrong choice.
The first grunt charged.
I didn't move until the last second.
Steel met steel as I parried the axe and drove my sword into the orc's throat in one clean motion. Blood sprayed hot across my arm.
The rest roared.
Shadow erupted from my silhouette, streaking low and fast. One grunt fell screaming as venom flooded his veins, body locking mid-swing.
I took the second through the knee, the third through the chest.
Pain flared as a blade bit into my side.
Good.
Wrath surged.
"Bloodlust Strike."
My vision reddened as strength flooded my limbs. I ripped my sword free and cleaved the orc in half, momentum carrying me into the next.
The last grunt hesitated.
The warlord laughed.
"Good," he said. "Fight."
He stepped forward.
The pressure alone made the air feel heavy.
Mara gasped behind me, struggling to breathe.
I didn't retreat.
Instead, I raised my blade and met his gaze.
"No help," I said quietly.
The System answered.
The warlord swung.
I barely blocked, the impact sending me skidding backward. My arms screamed. Bones threatened to crack.
Again.
Again.
I bled. I endured. I adapted.
Then I saw it.
A flaw in his stance. Arrogance.
I stepped into the swing, letting the axe graze my shoulder as I drove my sword up beneath his ribs.
The warlord roared.
I twisted.
And pulled.
The giant collapsed.
Silence followed.
I stood there, drenched in blood, breathing hard.
Behind me, Mara stared in horror—and awe.
"You didn't even ask for help," she whispered.
I wiped my blade clean on the warlord's armor.
"I told you," I said calmly. "I give outcomes."
The city trembled.
And somewhere far away, heroes felt something shift.
The warlord's body was still warm.
Steam rose from the blood pooling beneath him, thick with mana—dense, heavy, powerful. Far richer than goblin blood. Far richer than anything I'd tasted so far.
I could feel it calling.
Mara took a step back when she realized what I was looking at. "Leon… what are you doing?"
I didn't answer.
I knelt beside the fallen orc and placed my hand against his chest. The blood beneath his skin trembled in response, sluggish at first—then eager.
Blood Manipulation surged.
The warlord's veins lit up crimson beneath his flesh as his blood was drawn out, pulled free in thick streams that coiled through the air like living serpents. The smell was overwhelming—iron, rage, conquest.
I condensed it into a dense sphere, darker than anything before.
Mara covered her mouth. "That's—"
"Necessary," I said.
I drank.
The effect was immediate and violent.
Heat exploded through my body, far stronger than before. My heartbeat thundered as raw power flooded my limbs, muscles tightening, senses sharpening. I felt taller. Heavier. More real.
I exhaled slowly, red vapor escaping my lips.
The hunger didn't vanish this time.
It settled.
When I stood, Mara was staring at me like she was looking at something no longer human.
"You're not just using the System," she said quietly. "You're becoming something else."
I wiped the last trace of blood from my mouth.
"Of course I am."
I turned to the remaining corpses and flicked my fingers. The dungeon's pull answered even from this distance—mana threads snapping tight.
"Clean this up," I said.
Shadow moved instantly.
Mara hesitated, then asked the question she'd been avoiding since we met.
"What are you?"
I met her eyes, my reflection faintly glowing red in hers.
"I'm what survives when heroes fail."
Far away, deep beneath the city, my dungeon stirred—walls pulsing, monsters growing restless.
It felt like a feast.
And it was hungry too.