Reyan reached his apartment and locked the door behind him. The sound of the lock echoed slightly in the empty room. It felt louder than it should have, but he did not think much about it.

  He walked inside and sat down on the chair near the wall. It was the only chair left in one piece. The others had broken over the years, and he had never bothered to replace them. There was no reason to.

  The room was quiet. Nothing moved. Nothing made noise.

  Reyan stared at the wall for a long moment before his thoughts returned to the strange thing that had followed him since yesterday.

  The system.

  As soon as he focused on it, a screen appeared in front of his eyes.

  Name: Reyan Sen

  Race: Undead

  Level: 1

  Exp: 10 / 100

  Health: 5 / 5

  Strength: 5

  Speed: 5

  Agility: 5

  Stamina: 5

  Ability: None

  Reyan blinked slowly.

  “…So it’s real,” he said under his breath.

  It looked like something from the stories he used to read. Stories where the main character suddenly gained a system, became special, and changed the world. Usually, they became heroes. Or monsters that saved humanity anyway.

  “But I’m not like that,” Reyan said quietly. “I’m just a normal person.”

  He stopped for a second.

  “…No. I’m not even that anymore.”

  His eyes moved to the bottom of the screen, where a red message was displayed.

  [Daily Quest Status: Partially Completed]

  Warning: Soul Hunger will increase.

  Reyan frowned.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  The screen changed, and another message appeared.

  [Explanation]

  Incomplete soul consumption detected.

  Host failed to fully stabilize hunger.

  Result: hunger accumulation over time.

  Reyan read it twice.

  “So I did consume a soul,” he said slowly. “Just not enough.”

  The memory returned without warning. The boy collapsing. The strength leaving his body. That strange warmth flowing into Reyan, heavy and uncomfortable at the same time.

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  Reyan clenched his hand.

  “I stopped,” he said quietly. “I didn’t kill him.”

  The system responded immediately.

  [System Response]

  Intent irrelevant.

  Result incomplete.

  Reyan clicked his tongue in frustration.

  “So it doesn’t matter what I wanted,” he said. “Only what happened.”

  The system did not reply again.

  He leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. His chest felt strange. Not painful, and not like hunger a human would feel. It was deeper than that, like something inside him was slowly becoming aware.

  “This is messed up,” he muttered.

  He looked down at his hands. They were steady. His body felt calm, almost too calm. Out of habit, he pressed two fingers against his neck.

  There was no pulse.

  “…I really am dead,” he said.

  Yet he was still here. Thinking. Breathing. Existing in a way that did not make sense.

  His attention returned to the screen.

  “Ability: None,” he read. “So I can’t do anything special.”

  He let out a dry laugh.

  “No flying. No fire. No teleporting.”

  He noticed another line appear.

  [Free Stat Point Available]

  Reyan straightened slightly.

  He focused on it, and a smaller window opened.

  Available Stats:

  Strength

  Speed

  Agility

  Stamina

  He hesitated.

  “In those stories,” he said quietly, “they always choose strength.”

  He looked at his reflection in the dark screen of the TV. Slim body. Same face people had pushed around for years.

  Then he remembered the rock. The impact. How close he had come to losing control.

  “If that happens again,” he said, “strength won’t save me.”

  He searched the list again.

  There was no control. No resistance. No mental stat.

  After a moment, he selected stamina.

  The screen flickered.

  [Stamina increased: 5 → 6]

  Reyan exhaled slowly.

  “Let’s hope that helps.”

  He stood up and walked to the sink, splashing water on his face. When he looked into the cracked mirror, the reflection felt wrong. His face was the same, but his eyes were too still, too focused.

  “No fangs,” he said. “No glowing eyes.”

  He touched his neck again.

  Still nothing.

  The system flickered once more, drawing his attention back.

  [Warning]

  Soul hunger increasing.

  Estimated time until instability: 23 hours.

  Reyan stared at the message.

  “…Not even a full day,” he said.

  The system remained silent.

  Outside, he could hear distant traffic and voices from the street below. Life continued as usual. People laughed, argued, and went home without knowing anything had changed.

  Inside the apartment, Reyan sat back down.

  “If I do nothing,” he said quietly, “I lose control.”

  He paused.

  “And if I do something…”

  He did not finish the thought.

  The pressure inside him stirred again, slow and patient.

  Reyan lowered his head.

  “So this is how it starts.”

  Reyan was awake when the knock came.

  He did not know how long he had been lying there, staring at the ceiling. Sleep no longer worked the way it used to. His body rested, but his mind did not slow down.

  The knock came again, firm and controlled.

  When Reyan opened the door, two men stood outside his apartment. They wore dark uniforms without visible ranks. One of them held a tablet.

  “Reyan Sen,” the man said, reading from the screen. “You are scheduled for military transfer.”

  Reyan nodded.

  “You have ten minutes,” the man continued. “Bring only what is necessary.”

  “Where are we going?” Reyan asked.

  The man paused for a moment. “That information is restricted.”

  Reyan did not ask again.

  There was not much to take. He picked up his bag, looked around the room one last time, and stepped outside. The door locked behind him with a dull click. He did not turn back.

  A long armored vehicle waited on the street. It had no windows, only dark metal panels and a sealed entrance at the back. Other students were already inside. Some stood quietly. Others whispered to each other.

  Reyan boarded and took an empty seat.

  When everyone was inside, the door closed. The vehicle began to move. At first, Reyan tried to sense the direction, but it quickly became impossible. The movement felt smooth, unnatural. The sound changed, like the road itself was no longer there.

  After some time, the lights inside dimmed slightly. The walls darkened. There was no way to see outside.

  Someone asked quietly, “Are we underground?”

  No one answered.

  Reyan stopped counting time.

  Eventually, the vehicle slowed and came to a stop. The lights returned to normal, and the door opened. Cool air entered the cabin.

  They stepped out one by one.

  The place they arrived at looked ordinary. A wide concrete area stretched ahead, surrounded by low buildings. No tall walls. No obvious defenses. No visible weapons.

  That made it unsettling.

  An officer stood waiting for them.

  “This is the Central Military Academy,” he said. “You will not know its location. You will not record it. You will not describe it. Any attempt to do so will result in removal.”

  His voice was calm, as if he were explaining a routine rule.

  “Extend your left arm.”

  Another officer moved along the line, fastening a thin black band around each student’s forearm. The band locked into place with a soft click. It felt cool against the skin.

  When Reyan’s band activated, a faint vibration passed through his arm.

  A small display flashed briefly.

  [Neural Interface Band activated.]

  The officer spoke again.

  “This band is your identification, credit storage, and access authorization. You will refer to it as your NIB. Do not attempt to remove it.”

  Reyan glanced at the band. Its surface was smooth, dark, without buttons or markings.

  “Your power tiers will not be shown here,” the officer continued. “They will be revealed after your examination.”

  A quiet murmur passed through the group.

  Reyan remained silent.

  They were guided forward into the open area. There were no doors to enter yet, no clear destination. Just a wide space where everyone was told to stand and wait.

  The officers stepped back.

  No further instructions were given.

  Reyan stood still, his bag at his feet, the NIB cold on his arm. Around him, students whispered, checked their bands, and looked around cautiously.

  The sky above was dull and empty.

  Nothing happened.

  And somehow, that felt worse than anything else.