Leon's breath came sharp and fast, his heartbeat pounding against his ribs like a war drum. His hands were damp with sweat, fingers flexing instinctively as he tried to calm the tremor in his grip.
The Goblin Elite stood before him, unfazed.
The Mana Bolt had landed cleanly—a direct hit to the shoulder. Any normal goblin would have staggered, collapsed, or at the very least hesitated.
But this one?
It barely flinched.
A scorch mark now marred the goblin's shoulder armor, but the monster rolled its neck, the joints cracking as if amused that Leon had even bothered to fight back.
Its yellow eyes gleamed.
It was studying him now.
No longer just charging wildly.
It knew.
Leon was alone.
It could take its time.
The goblin shifted its weight, planting its feet in a stance that made Leon's stomach tighten.
It wasn't going to swing recklessly again.
It had already measured his speed.
The next attack would be deliberate. Precise.
Leon couldn't afford to let that happen.
Kiting the Enemy –
"Fire. Again!" Leon's voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air.
His Zombie Mage moved immediately, its glowing blue eyes flickering as mana crackled in its palms.
Another Mana Bolt launched, a streak of light tearing through the darkness of the dungeon—
The Goblin Elite dodged.
It twisted its body, the spell skimming past its shoulder, crashing into the stone wall behind it.
Leon cursed.
It had reacted to the attack. It had learned.
This wasn't a mindless monster that relied on brute force. It could adapt.
Leon's mind worked overtime.
If standing still and trading blows wouldn't work, then—
Move. Keep it moving. Make it chase.
Leon stepped back, creating distance, his eyes flickering toward the terrain.
The dungeon corridor was narrow, but there were enough obstacles—broken pillars, scattered rubble, uneven ground.
He could use them.
He had to use them.
"Fall back! Keep firing!"
His Zombie Mage drifted backward, mirroring his movements.
The Goblin Elite snarled and charged.
Leon ducked behind a broken column, skirting around the battlefield, forcing the goblin to turn sharply every few seconds.
And in that split second—his Zombie Mage attacked.
A Mana Bolt clipped the goblin's leg, and this time, it stumbled.
Not a clean hit.
But enough.
Leon's lips curled.
This was it.
This was his strategy.
Not brute force. Not clashing blades like a warrior.
Kiting. Wearing the enemy down.
A game of movement and patience.
And Leon had both.
The Goblin Elite recovered too quickly.
It was adapting faster than expected.
Leon clenched his jaw. His Zombie Mage's attacks alone wouldn't be enough.
He had to help.
His eyes darted toward the ground—his mind registering the rusted dagger lying near a fallen goblin corpse.
It was old, worn, the edge dull from age.
But a weapon was a weapon.
Leon lunged for it.
His fingers curled around the handle, the weight unfamiliar in his grip. He had always pictured himself wielding magic, not fighting up close.
But now wasn't the time to hesitate.
The Goblin Elite saw him move.
It reacted—raising its massive axe for another downward swing.
Leon had no time to escape.
But he didn't need to.
"Now!"
His Zombie Mage struck first.
A Mana Bolt slammed into the goblin's knee, throwing its balance off for just a second.
A second was all Leon needed.
He dashed in, dagger tight in his grip.
The goblin roared, already trying to recover—
Leon drove the blade into its exposed throat.
The Goblin Elite choked.
Its massive hands jerked upward, trying to grab at its own neck—but it was too late.
Leon twisted the dagger, feeling the resistance of flesh, the hot spray of blood against his arm.
The monster's strength drained instantly.
Its axe fell from its grip, crashing against the stone floor with a dull, ringing thud.
The Goblin Elite sank to its knees, gasping, its yellow eyes wide in shock.
Leon ripped the dagger free, stepping back as the monster collapsed forward.
The impact sent up a cloud of dust.
And then—
It stopped moving.
Leon's chest heaved.
His hand was shaking, his fingers stained red.
His first true kill.
Not a goblin his Zombie Mage had taken down.
Not a spell fired from a safe distance.
A kill by his own hands.
The adrenaline burned through his veins, his body still caught between the thrill of survival and the weight of what he had just done.
Then—a chime.
[System Notification: Your summon has leveled up!]
[Zombie Mage – Rank F+ → E-]
A sudden wave of energy surged through Leon's body, as if something deep inside him had been unlocked.
It wasn't like casting a spell.
It wasn't the rush of mana flowing through his veins.
This was different.
Deeper.
More connected.
Leon staggered slightly, his breath hitching as he felt the weight of the level-up press against his chest. His mind pulsed with information, as if the system itself was embedding the change into his very being.
His Zombie Mage stood still, its form shuddering, its glowing blue eyes flickering like an unstable flame.
The mana around it thickened, condensing into something denser, heavier.
This was no ordinary level-up.
Something else was happening.
Then—another notification flashed.
[Zombie Evolution Progress: 60%]
Leon's breath slowed.
His fingers twitched.
Not just a level-up.
Not just a stat increase.
Evolution.
His undead wasn't just growing stronger.
It was becoming something else.
His thoughts raced. No necromancer—not even the highest-ranked death mages—had ever spoken about undead that could evolve.
Summons were static. Disposable.
They were meant to be replaced, not improved.
But his system… his summons…
Leon's grip tightened around his dagger, his knuckles turning white.
This changed everything.
He had barely scratched the surface of what his class could do.
And already, it had defied the rules of this world.
He had to see how far this could go.
Leon exhaled, long and steady.
His body ached—his muscles sore, his limbs heavy.
His mind was still processing the fight, the adrenaline still fading from his system.
But despite everything—
He felt alive.
More than he had in years.
He lowered his gaze, wiping the blood-stained dagger against his sleeve.
A goblin's life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
But this wasn't just about a single kill.
This was about what came next.
Leon didn't need a party.
He didn't need allies who would abandon him the moment things got difficult.
He just needed his army.
And this?
This was only the beginning.