Exit Strategy – No Words, No Witnesses
The bodies were left where they fell.
Leon didn't touch them. He didn't loot the corpses, didn't sift through their packs or pry rings off fingers. He had taken what he needed from that fight—a message burned into the stone through blood and silence.
By the time he reached the dungeon exit, his summons walked beside him like sentries. The Warrior Zombie's armor was stained but intact. The Zombie Mage's cloak still smoldered faintly from spell discharge.
He stepped through the barrier.
Back into the light.
Back into the noise.
But none of it reached him.
Marketplace – Blood Turned to Coin
The guild outpost at the dungeon edge was half-asleep—late morning, few guards, fewer questions.
Leon walked past the main checkpoint and into the underground trader's circle, where third-party merchants dealt in salvage and monster components without asking for quest verification.
He laid a sack on the stone counter.
The broker frowned.
"Goblin fangs, minor beast cores… couple mana-stained bones—" He paused, holding up a steel pendant with a cracked rune crest. "This is military-issue."
Leon didn't blink.
The man raised both hands, cleared his throat, and went back to appraising.
Ten minutes later, Leon left with a black bag of coin, a small pouch of purified cores, and one upgrade crystal barely used.
He said nothing.
He left through the side alley.
By nightfall, the whispers had already begun.
Rumors in the Smoke
No one saw the fight.
But everyone heard about what came after.
A full adventurer party found dead inside a low-tier dungeon, cut to pieces with military precision, bodies unlooted, gear still half-intact, spells interrupted mid-cast.
One had no head.
Another had burn marks inside their ribcage—from the inside.
The rogue's spine was folded backward.
The guild didn't know who to blame.
No survivors.
No signs of a monster incursion.
Just silence.
And the corridor painted red.
They called it a punishment.
Others called it a warning.
But no one called it justice.
Because justice had nothing to do with it.
Three Days Later – Stillness Before the Storm
Leon didn't return home right away.
He spent the first night cleaning his gear, replacing a mana regulator on his gun, and repolishing the edge of his boots. His summons remained near, inactive but not at rest.
On the second day, he trained.
Not with attacks.
With positioning.
His Warrior Zombie was ordered to block using only footwork. His Zombie Mage was forced to aim for targets behind cover.
He measured every cooldown. Timed every movement. Pushed until the mana drain nearly made him collapse.
On the third morning, he stood before the E-Rank dungeon gate.
He didn't tell anyone he was going in.
And no one stopped him.
E-Rank Dungeon – The Fog Garden
The barrier shimmered faintly as he stepped through.
What waited inside was not a cave.
Not ruins.
It was a forest—dead and breathing at once.
Twisting trees with leafless limbs stretched overhead like skeletal arms. The ground was covered in a thick, silver mist that crawled up Leon's boots as he moved. Fungal spores floated in the air like ash, pulsing faintly with mana.
His gun was in hand before the mist reached his knees.
The dungeon was alive.
Not with noise.
With presence.
Predator Bloom – First Encounter
The first creature wasn't heard.
It was smelled.
Rotting fruit and acidic bile—sweet and burning.
A shape slithered through the mist ahead.
Not a beast. Not a goblin.
It was a Fungal Maw—a quadruped creature built from plant matter and rotting animal corpses fused with moss. Its face was a petaled bloom filled with needle-like teeth. Fungus grew across its back like tumors, and every step left a trail of spores.
Leon didn't hesitate.
"Formation Delta."
The Zombie Mage veered left, keeping line of sight through a thinned section of trees. The Warrior Zombie anchored front—shield raised, stance set.
The Maw screeched and surged forward.
Leon opened fire.
The first bullet impacted its leg, but the flesh reknit itself immediately—adaptive regen.
"Stagger it."
The Warrior Zombie slammed its sword into the creature's front leg as it lunged. The bones cracked audibly. The creature collapsed mid-jump.
A flash of light.
The Zombie Mage released a narrow Mana Lance, condensed and hot, not wide-spread.
It pierced the Fungal Maw's skull clean through.
It didn't scream.
It just spasmed—and stopped moving.
[System Notification: Creature Neutralized – Tactical Sync +3%]
Leon lowered his weapon.
And kept moving.
The Depths – Tactical, Clean, Silent
The deeper he went, the worse it got.
Fungal Maws hunted in groups. Some crawled through roots. Others hid under decayed trees, bursting from the ground like ambush predators.
Leon adapted quickly.
He stopped giving full commands.
His summons moved in sync with his posture, spacing, angles.
He didn't have to speak anymore.
If he leaned back slightly, the Mage repositioned.
If he moved to reload, the Warrior shifted to intercept incoming movement.
Each encounter ended the same way.
Precise. Silent. No injuries.
No damage taken.
Just experience gained and another small core dropped into his pouch.
The Forgotten Camp – The Echo of What Came Before
Deep inside the dungeon, Leon found the remains of a camp.
Half of a canvas tarp. A shattered weapon. Bones stripped clean, vines growing through armor like veins.
He stepped past it.
He didn't need to know their names.
They weren't part of his story.
He only needed one thing from this place.
Proof.
That he could scale.
That this world's ladder wasn't closed to him.
That his system wasn't broken.
That it was unstoppable.
System Update – Not Just Summons Anymore
Near the dungeon's exit, as the final Fungal Maw slumped to the floor—decayed, burned, and carved—Leon finally paused.
[System Notification: Summon AI Tier Upgrade Complete] Zombie Mage – Tactical Mode Level IIWarrior Zombie – Combat Instinct Sync 45%
He exhaled slowly.
The dungeon faded behind him.
The fog didn't follow.