Leon slumped against the tunnel wall, blood crusting along his ribs. Each breath came sharp and shallow. The air reeked of copper and burnt mana.
Elise knelt beside him, palms glowing sea-green. Sweat beaded her temple as she worked. Her magic felt different from the flashy healing he'd seen in demonstrations—steady, deliberate, real.
"This isn't some instant fix," she muttered. "It holds, but it takes time."
Leon gritted his teeth. The pain faded in slow pulses as his ribs knitted together. Across from them, spectral fragments swirled in the air like captured starlight.
The system interface blazed:
[Grave Mage Evolution Complete][New Form: Elite Grave Mage][Mana Cost Reduced (-20%) | Spell Precision Improved | Passive Trait Unlocked: Corpse Sense][Elite Grave Mage is now bound – Loyalty Level: High]
The fragments reassembled into something new. Taller. Sleeker bones wrapped in semi-transparent cloth that shimmered blue with each movement. A second mana core pulsed in its chest—denser, brighter.
Leon stared, exhausted but alert. "That's one hell of a glow-up."
The zombie didn't speak, but its nod carried weight. It wasn't just summoned anymore. It belonged to him.
Elise finished healing and leaned back, drained. "Still alive. Still ugly."
Leon snorted blood through his nose. "Takes one to know one."
They moved deeper into the mine. The tunnel stretched darker ahead. Fewer torches. Walls cracked with age. Their footsteps echoed longer in the emptiness.
Leon checked his interface while they walked. Mana stabilizing. Zombie following like a silent wraith. His new companion moved with purpose now, scanning the environment with intelligent awareness.
Rations were nearly gone. Water half-empty. They hadn't expected to survive this long.
Midway through a collapsed section, the Elite Grave Mage stopped. One skeletal hand brushed the wall. Its head tilted, listening to something Leon couldn't hear.
[Corpse Sense Triggered – Detection: Concealed Passage Nearby]
The zombie raised its hand, casting a pulse of spectral energy. The wall shimmered, revealing a thin crack hidden behind stacked crates.
They cleared the debris together. A tight crawlspace led into darkness.
"Another hunter team's hidey-hole," Elise said.
The hidden chamber beyond held treasures. Blades lay scattered across stone shelves. Leather belts hung from iron hooks. Satchels bulged with supplies. Dust covered everything, but the gear remained intact.
Leon found a mana 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 felt balanced in his grip.
"Perfect fit," he muttered, sliding it into his belt.
Elise rifled through potion bottles. Two still glowed blue—healing draughts worth more than his family's monthly rent. She found a clean tunic, too big but better than her torn qualification uniform.
She opened up while they searched. "Most healers flash and impress examiners. Their buffs fade fast. Mine stick. Skin regrows right. Bones stay straight." She shrugged. "Not sexy, but it's real."
Leon nodded. "Real's what we need."
Elise's healing had a permanence other magic lacked. Leon's ribs felt solid now, properly mended rather than temporarily numbed. No wonder the other qualification teams abandoned her—they wanted instant gratification, not lasting results.
A soft beep cut through the chamber's silence.
[Time Elapsed: 2:00:00][Qualification Complete – Extraction Imminent][Standby – Signal Lock Detected]
Runes carved into the floor began glowing. Teleportation magic—standard Association extraction protocol. The light swelled, preparing to transport them back to the surface.
Leon stood, zombie at his back. Elise dusted off her boots. Both exhausted but upright. They'd survived where their teammates expected them to die.
"Ready?" Leon asked.
"As I'll ever be."
The extraction completed in a flash of white light.
They materialized in a reinforced debriefing chamber under harsh floodlights. Three Hunter Association officials waited behind a metal table. Their faces showed professional boredom—until they looked closer.
The officials stared. Past Leon's bloodstained tunic. Past his new mana gun. Their eyes fixed 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 have been possible.
One official muttered, "That thing killed an elite?"
Another whispered, "F-Rank my ass."
Leon didn't blink. His zombie stood perfectly still, awaiting orders. The skull fragment gleamed under the fluorescent lights—proof of what two F-Ranks could accomplish when the world expected them to fail.
The lead official cleared 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 exchanged glances. Their tablets showed readings that didn't match expectations. F-Ranks weren't supposed to clear qualification dungeons. They certainly weren't supposed to kill elite monsters.
"Equipment acquisition?"
"Found gear in abandoned cache. Previous hunter team, presumably deceased."
The skull fragment drew their attention again. Elite Goblins were C-Rank threats minimum. The paperwork would be complicated.
"Stand by for medical evaluation," the lead official said. "Then licensing review."
Leon and Elise waited while Association healers performed standard post-dungeon scans. The medics found their injuries properly treated, their mana signatures stable, their equipment legal.
Everything checked out. Somehow.
The licensing official stamped their papers with obvious reluctance. "Congratulations. You're officially licensed hunters."
Leon tucked 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 walked toward the exit together. Other qualification groups clustered around the processing area. Higher-ranked students laughed with their teammates. Guild recruiters circled promising candidates.
No one looked at Leon and Elise. F-Ranks remained invisible even after accomplishing the impossible.
"What now?" Elise asked.
Leon checked the job board near the exit. Dozens of low-paying assignments waited. Sewer clearing. Pest control. The kind of work that kept F-Ranks busy and poor.
His zombie materialized beside him, translucent and patient. The evolved summon represented power beyond conventional necromancy. Power that could be leveraged for better opportunities.
"Now we get to work."
The Association clerk processed their paperwork without looking up. "Standard F-Rank assignments available at Station Seven. Payment on completion. No advances."
Leon studied the available jobs. Most offered copper coins for dangerous work. But one listing caught his attention—a private contract posted on the Shadow Quarter board.
Higher risk. Better pay. Perfect for hunters willing to operate outside official channels.
"Elise," he said quietly. "Interested in making real money?"