The goblin's lifeless body collapsed onto the stone floor, its clawed fingers twitching one last time before finally going still. Its rusted dagger slipped from its grip, clattering against the uneven ground, the dull ring of metal echoing down the dark corridor.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, mixing with the dungeon's natural dampness. The faint traces of mana still lingered in the air, crackling softly where the last Mana Bolt had struck, leaving behind a faint burn mark on the goblin's chest.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Only the sound of their breathing filled the corridor—ragged, uneven, shaken.
Leon exhaled slowly, lowering his arm. His fingertips tingled, his pulse still hammering in his ears. It wasn't from exhaustion—it was from something else.
The rush of battle.
The sensation of commanding a fight, making split-second decisions, controlling his Zombie Mage with precision.
It felt… natural.
For the first time since his Awakening, since he touched the Orb of Ascension and saw the world laugh at his class—he felt something different.
Not shame.
Not humiliation.
Not weakness.
Control.
The dungeon had gone quiet now—no growls from hidden creatures, no scurrying footsteps from unseen monsters. Just the fading tension of combat leaving the air.
Yet the weight of what had just happened still lingered.
Garet was the first to react.
He took an uneasy step back, his sword still half-raised, as if his body hadn't caught up with the fact that the fight was already over. His grip on the weapon was tense, his knuckles pale from holding it too tightly.
His eyes flicked from the dead goblin to Leon's summon, then back again.
Elise stood rigid, her staff clutched tightly in her hands, but her gaze wasn't on the goblin. It was fixed on the Zombie Mage.
Her brows were furrowed, her lips slightly parted in unease.
Leon could almost see the thoughts racing in her head.
She had underestimated it.
They both had.
The Zombie Mage, its hood still shadowing most of its features, stood motionless, its glowing blue eyes flickering like dying embers.
It hadn't collapsed.
It hadn't faltered.
It had obeyed.
No hesitation. No lag in response. No signs of being a mindless summon.
That wasn't how zombies were supposed to behave.
Leon wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing finally leveling out.
This was his first real battle.
And unlike what everyone had led him to believe—
He wasn't useless.
He had fought.
He had won.
Then—his vision flashed.
A bright, golden notification appeared before him, hovering in the air like a beacon.
Leon's breath caught as he read the words:
[System Notification: Your summon has leveled up!]
A warm sensation rushed through his chest, a pulse of something deep, powerful—different from just mana.
It was a direct link, a connection between himself and his summon, something that no normal necromancer should have been able to feel.
He had expected a simple undead unit, something disposable, replaceable.
But this…
This was something else.
His zombie wasn't just a summon.
It was growing.
[System Notification: Your summon has leveled up!]
[Zombie Mage – Rank F → F+]
A sudden wave of warmth surged through Leon, flooding his chest with a sensation he had never felt before.
It wasn't the usual rush of mana when casting a spell. It wasn't the strain of channeling magic.
This was different.
Deeper.
As if something inside him had shifted, a thread of energy extending beyond himself—connecting him to the creature that stood by his side.
Leon's breath hitched.
His Zombie Mage twitched, its thin, skeletal fingers tightening as a visible shudder ran through its body. A faint ripple of blue mana coursed through its form, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Leon's fingers twitched. He could feel it.
Not the pain. Not the thoughts of the summon itself.
But the change.
Like an instinctive understanding—his undead had just become stronger.
Then—another notification flashed.
[Stats Increased: +5 Intelligence, +2 Mana]
Leon's gaze flicked to the Zombie Mage's glowing blue eyes.
Something was different.
At first glance, the change was subtle. The same tattered hood. The same sunken form.
But the details—the details were what mattered.
The way it stood. More stable. Less hunched. As if its very presence had solidified.
The mana surrounding it no longer drifted loosely like an unstable mist. It clung to its body, stronger, more refined.
It had changed.
Leon exhaled slowly, his heartbeat steady now, but his mind racing.
A necromancer's summon was supposed to be fixed—a lifeless tool, bound to the strength it had at the moment of its creation.
But his Zombie Mage had just improved.
Leon's fingertips curled slightly.
It's growing stronger.
He barely had time to process the revelation before one last notification appeared.
And this one made his breath catch in his throat.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing through the dungeon corridors. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the walls, illuminating the scene—the fallen goblins, Leon's motionless summon, and the two adventurers who now looked at him with something different in their eyes.
Not mockery.
Not disgust.
Something closer to uncertainty.
Elise finally spoke, her voice quiet, almost disbelieving.
"...Did your zombie just get stronger?"
Leon blinked, snapping out of his own thoughts. He turned toward her, noting the way her fingers tightened around her staff. The skepticism in her voice was still there, but now it was mixed with hesitant curiosity.
Like she was trying to make sense of something that shouldn't be possible.
Garet, on the other hand, was still frowning. He rolled his shoulders, shifting his grip on his sword as if the weapon suddenly felt heavier.
"It… feels different," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like it's not the same summon from a minute ago."
Leon didn't answer right away.
Would they even believe him if he told them?
That his undead weren't like other necromancer summons?
That they could level up? Evolve?
That he was not bound to the same limitations as every other necromancer in history?
He doubted it.
So he kept it simple.
"Yeah," he said, his voice calm.
Garet scowled, shaking his head. "That's… not normal."
Leon met his gaze, expression unreadable. Then, with a slight shrug, he spoke.
"Guess my class isn't as weak as everyone thought."
The words hung in the air, settling between them like a challenge.
Elise bit her lip, her gaze flickering back to the Zombie Mage.
Leon could tell—her healer's instincts were kicking in.
She wasn't just looking at it as a summoned creature anymore. She was analyzing it, trying to understand how a slow, disposable undead had moved faster than a living swordsman.
Faster than Garet.
Garet, sensing the shift in attention, let out a sharp exhale and crossed his arms.
"Still…" He narrowed his eyes at the Zombie Mage. "It's just a zombie."
Leon didn't argue.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he simply smiled.
A slow, knowing smile.
For now, they could underestimate him.
It wouldn't stay that way for long.\
Leon stood slightly apart from the others, his breathing steady as he raised his hand. With a single thought, his status screen materialized before him. The familiar blue interface flickered in the dim torchlight, its glowing text reflecting in his narrowed eyes.
His gaze landed on the updated stats of his Zombie Mage.
The increase in Intelligence wasn't just a meaningless number. It was a fundamental change in the way his summon processed and used mana.
Faster casting speed.
More refined spell control.
Greater efficiency.
Already, he had seen the difference—the way his undead responded quicker, the way its spells launched with more force.
And this was just from reaching F+.
Leon's mind raced.
If his summon could continue evolving, could push beyond its current form, then what would it become at Level 10? Level 20?
Would it gain new abilities? A higher form? Would it become something even greater than a mindless undead?
There was only one way to find out.
He needed more battles.
More fights meant more experience—and more experience meant more power.
He curled his fingers into a fist, his knuckles turning white.
Leon had spent years watching from the sidelines, dreaming of the day he would stand among real adventurers.
That dream had nearly been stolen from him the moment his class was announced.
But now?
He had the means to carve his own path.
And he wasn't going to waste it.
A sharp exhale pulled him back to reality.
Garet ran a hand through his damp hair, looking around the darkened corridors with a frown of unease. "We should move. There's no way that was the last enemy in this place."
Elise adjusted her grip on her staff, nodding. "Yeah… let's not waste time."
Leon let the status screen flicker out, his face unreadable.
He didn't argue. Didn't announce his plans.
He simply fell into step with them, his Zombie Mage trailing behind like a silent shadow.
The dungeon stretched ahead, winding deeper into unknown darkness.
And for the first time since stepping into this place, Leon wasn't afraid of what waited for them in the depths.
Because whatever it was—
It would only make him stronger.