The blood dripping from Adam's arm wasn't the worst of it.
It was the silence.
No shouting. No footsteps. No distant clang of weapons clashing with monsters. Just the suffocating stillness of a dungeon too deep, too quiet.
He lay on the stone floor, broken and alone.
A shard of bone pierced through his thigh, jagged and cruel, while his left arm was twisted at an angle that shouldn't be possible. Crimson spread beneath him, pooling slowly, like the dungeon itself was drinking his life away.
His breath came in ragged gasps.
"They left me…"
His voice cracked. Not from pain—but disbelief.
A few minutes ago, Adam had fought alongside his team. No—he had supported them, as always. He wasn't a frontline fighter. His role was simple: aggro monsters, heal minor wounds, carry supplies, and keep his head down.
Just like every other F-rank hunter trying to survive.
But this dungeon wasn't supposed to be like this. The gate was listed as E-rank. Easy. Routine. In and out.
Until the walls shifted.
Until the second boss showed up.
Until chaos erupted—and they realized it was all a trap.
And when things turned ugly, his "team" did what cowards do best. They ran. Without warning. Without a glance back. One of them even shoved him to the ground to buy themselves a few more seconds.
He remembered Lenny's voice, sharp and cold. "He's dead weight anyway. Let the dungeon have him!"
Dead weight…
Adam gritted his teeth, pain lancing up his spine. He tried to sit up—and failed.
Even blinking was starting to feel heavy now.
This is it… isn't it?
This was how weak hunters died. Alone. Unnoticed. Forgotten in some godforsaken corner of the world while the rest moved on.
But as darkness crept in around his vision, a sound broke the silence.
A heartbeat.
Thump.
Then another. Louder. Not his own.
Thump.
The air changed. The dungeon around him flickered, almost like a mirage rippling.
Then came the voice.
> "You should have died five times this week, mortal. And yet, you lived."
It wasn't loud.
It was inside him.
Every syllable vibrated in his bones, as though death itself was speaking from inside his blood.
> "Your fear was delicious. Your suffering… exquisite. But your will to live? That was mine."
Adam tried to scream, but his throat was frozen. No pain, no breath—just numbness as cold as the grave.
> "So I offer you a choice, Adam Delvane. Die here as a forgotten F-rank… or become something more."
> "Become mine."
A strange window blinked into existence in front of his fading eyes:
---
[The Death System has chosen you.]
[Accept the Contract?]
[Yes] | [No]
---
His vision blurred, but he could still read the words.
A system?
Hunters gained their ranks from awakenings—some random, some blessed. But systems? Those were supposed to be myths. Only the highest-tier hunters claimed to have them. God-chosen, world-bending, system-wielding monsters in human form.
And now one was offering him a contract?
He didn't think.
He didn't hesitate.
He focused on the word.
Yes.
---
[Contract accepted.]
[Initializing Death System...]
[Reconstructing Host Body...]
[Repairing fatal wounds...]
[Linking Necrotic Pathways… COMPLETE.]
---
Adam screamed.
Not from pain—but because he felt everything.
Every bone snapped back into place with a sickening crunch. His flesh knit together, faster than any healing potion could manage. His breath returned, sharp and hot, as if he'd just drowned and was pulled back to life.
Then came the cold.
Not from the dungeon—but from inside.
Like death had sunk into his soul and was now part of him.
He rose.
Not staggered. Not limping.
He stood, whole and steady, despite the dried blood on his shirt.
The shattered cavern around him was still, but he no longer felt vulnerable.
He felt… awake.
And hungry.
A new message appeared:
---
[Daily Quest: Feed the System]
Slay 3 dungeon monsters
Collect 3 souls
Reward: 10 XP, +1 Strength
Penalty for failure: Soul Degradation (Permanent Stat Loss)
Time remaining: 23:59:59
---
He blinked. "Souls…?"
Something moved in the shadows.
A skeletal beast crept from the dungeon fog—part serpent, part wolf, stitched together with bones that glowed faintly blue. Its jaw unhinged as it hissed, venom dripping from non-existent flesh.
Adam clenched his fist.
Something answered in his body.
A surge of power spiraled from his palm, black and blue, cold as a midnight storm. He didn't know how—but he knew he could use it.
His instincts screamed one word.
"Emerge."
The energy flared.
From the shadows behind him, a hand clawed up from the ground. Then a head. A chest. A full figure, cloaked in darkness and bone, eyes burning like twin blue stars.
The creature bowed its head.
> "Your will, master."
Adam stared. His first summon. A wraithlike entity born from death itself. His minion.
He smiled. A slow, stunned, terrifying smile.
"I'm not weak anymore."
The beast lunged—but never reached him.
With a whisper of thought, Adam pointed.
"Kill."
His summon darted forward, its claws cleaving through the monster like paper. The skeletal beast crumbled, a soft light—its soul—floating up.
A notification blinked:
---
[1 Soul Acquired.]
[Summon strengthened.]
[XP +3]
---
Adam's heart thudded.
Not from fear.
From exhilaration.
This power… it was real. It was his. And it wasn't done yet.
He turned to the tunnel where his old team had run.
They left me to die.
Now I'll make them wish I had.