Leon sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the floor. His hands dropped between his knees, fingers loosely curled, and his mind went blank.
The room was small, barely more than a single bed, a desk covered in scattered papers, and a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. It had never felt this empty before.
His whole life, he had believed in one thing: as long as he awakened a decent class, he could carve out a future for himself.
That hope was gone now.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the voices from the Awakening Hall.
"A Zombie Lord? Is that even real?"
"Who would ever party with a necromancer like that?"
"Might as well quit now."
His fingers curled into a fist. His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
They had laughed at him. Dismissed him. Not even considered him worthy of standing beside them.
Leon forced himself to breathe. Deep. Slow. Trying to push down the storm rising in his chest.
He glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. The dim lighting cast deep shadows under his eyes. His dark hair was a mess, his normally sharp features dull with exhaustion.
He barely recognized himself.
"...Maybe they were right."
The words came out before he could stop them, quiet and bitter.
A dull ache settled in his chest.
Would he really spend the rest of his life as a failure?
A ding echoed in his mind.
Leon's body jerked upright.
His vision flashed blue.
For a split second, the world around him faded—like reality itself had glitched.
And then, it appeared.
A translucent screen hovered in the air before him, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Leon's breath caught in his throat.
The glowing screen hovered before him, casting an eerie blue light across his darkened room. It flickered slightly, as if adjusting itself, before stabilizing.
Then, words began to scroll across the interface, crisp and sharp.
[System Detected… Initializing…]
[Zombie Lord System Activated]
[Beginner Summon Available]
Leon's body remained frozen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.
This wasn't normal.
No necromancer—not even the legendary ones recorded in history—had anything remotely like this. Their undead were summoned through rituals, bound by contracts, or raised through forbidden spells.
But this?
This was structured. Mechanical. Coldly efficient.
It wasn't magic. It was something else entirely.
His hands trembled slightly as he reached toward the text. His fingers stopped just short of touching the screen, hesitation creeping in.
Could this be… some kind of mistake?
Maybe the Awakening Orb malfunctioned. Maybe this was just a cruel joke the universe was playing on him.
But the screen remained. The letters did not fade. The glowing interface waited, patient and unwavering.
A flicker of something ignited in his chest.
Hope?
The same hope that had been crushed beneath laughter just hours ago.
The same hope that had withered when he saw his name missing from the leaderboard.
He clenched his fists.
No.
Hope alone wouldn't change anything. He wasn't going to blindly trust in another miracle just to be disappointed again.
He needed to know exactly what this was.
Gritting his teeth, Leon extended his hand.
The moment his fingertips brushed against the glowing screen, a voice spoke directly into his mind.
[Welcome, Zombie Lord. You have been chosen.]
The voice rang out directly in Leon's mind, smooth and precise, yet entirely devoid of emotion. It carried no hesitation, no warmth, no condescension—just a statement of fact.
Unlike the examiners at the Awakening Hall, it held no disappointment. No mockery.
Just acknowledgment.
Leon's breath hitched.
More text began to scroll across the screen, unfolding the mechanics of his ability in stark, clear details.
Unlike traditional necromancers, your summoned undead are not mindless.
Zombies can gain experience, level up, and evolve into stronger forms.
The Zombie Lord can customize undead by equipping them with weapons and armor.
Tactical commands allow undead to act independently, following battle strategies.
Leon's eyes scanned each line, absorbing the information.
His breathing grew shallow.
This… wasn't how necromancy worked.
Traditional necromancers raised their undead in bulk. Their armies were expendable, limited by the strength of their caster. Skeletons, ghouls, and lesser undead had no intelligence, no growth, no self-preservation.
The strongest necromancers in history relied on sheer quantity—summoning hordes of mindless corpses to overwhelm their enemies.
That was why necromancers were seen as inferior in direct combat.
But this system—his system—was different.
His undead could think.
Fight.
Learn.
Adapt.
They weren't just weapons to be thrown away. They were soldiers.
And more than anything else—they could grow stronger.
His fingertips tingled. His pulse pounded against his ribs.
This changed everything.
Leon exhaled slowly.
The world had already decided he was weak.
They had mocked him. Dismissed him. Laughed at him.
They had no idea what was coming.
Choosing His First Zombie
A new prompt flickered across the screen.
[Choose Your First Zombie Type]
Three options appeared:
1. Warrior Zombie – A frontline fighter, strong and durable.
2. Mage Zombie – Can cast weak spells but has ranged combat potential.
3. Healer Zombie – Can regenerate undead but weak in direct battle.
Leon stared at the options, his mind running through possible strategies.
A Warrior Zombie would be great for defense, able to take hits while he stayed back.
A Healer Zombie was tempting, but without strong fighters, what would it even heal?
But the Mage Zombie…
His eyes flickered to the description again.
A weak spellcaster now, but if zombies could level up, then its magic would only get stronger.
With enough time, it could become a powerful ranged attacker, covering him from a distance.
He made his decision.
Leon reached forward.
[Selection Confirmed: Mage Zombie]
The screen flickered. The glow of the text intensified.
A new prompt appeared.
[Beginner Summon Initializing…]
The air in the room shifted.
Leon felt it before he saw it—a deep, cold pull, like something was being dragged into existence.
A faint mist coiled at his feet. The shadows in the corners of his room grew darker, stretching unnaturally.
The air turned heavy.
Leon braced himself.
The summoning had begun.