Zakar had successfully carried his teammates into the room. His body ached harder than he had expected, every muscle screaming as though his bones were cutting against themselves, begging for mercy.

The dull throb in his ribs pulsed with each breath, and when he finally set them down gently on the cold floor, his legs nearly gave way beneath him.

Then he dragged his way in and dropped Sera on her bed. Dropping Myia and Justin on the upper bed was something he could not do now. He dropped Myia on his bed and kicked Justin to lay beside Sera.

He climbed unto Myia's bed and sighed out of exhaustion. He could not believe that he was still able to move a limb.

"Too much has happened within two days," he muttered hoarsely, his voice rough from exhaustion. "It feels more like a dream than reality. I can't believe I had to kill a human again…"

His words trailed off into a whisper, but the guilt didn't fade. It crawled deeper, coiling in his chest.

"I broke my vow. I killed Caslurk. Damn it… why do I always have to end up as a killer?"

His gaze drifted blankly to the wall, and for a moment his vision blurred. Blood stained his knuckles a reminder that mercy was a luxury he could never seem to afford.

A faint smile tugged on his lips, bitter and weary, as he remembered the earlier fight. He had almost cried when he'd destroyed Carene's dolls. Each of them had seemed alive their movements graceful, their voices soft, their eyes filled with emotions far too human.

"Her magic…" he murmured, leaning back against the wall. "To create life from death that's no ordinary spell."

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "No wonder she's an S-Rank. She's not just strong… she's terrifying."

For a brief second, the memory of Carene's calm, unblinking face flashed before him the shadowy elegance of her aura, the way her dolls fought with purpose rather than command. There was something divine and monstrous about it at once.

Pain stabbed through his chest again, forcing him to hiss under his breath. "System," he called quietly, his tone flat. "Can you heal my wounds?"

A familiar shimmer appeared before his eyes as the translucent interface materialized in the air.

[Host sustained more damage than his physical body can endure.]

[A Healing Factor will be required to initiate full restoration.]

Zakar let out a long, tired sigh and dragged a blood-stained hand through his hair. The digital glow reflected faintly in his eyes.

"How many Healing Factors do I have?" he asked, flicking his fingers lightly to stabilize the screen.

There was a brief hum before the system responded:

[Healing Factors: 4]

[Current State Requires: 2 Healing Factors.]

"Two…" Zakar repeated under his breath, staring at the numbers as though they carried the weight of fate itself. "Guess I don't have a choice."

He clenched his jaw and pressed his palm to his chest. The system's glow pulsed brighter, surrounding him in a faint red haze as pain and warmth mingled together. His breath trembled but slowly, his heartbeat steadied.

"Damn fuck greedy system." He cursed. "Go on. I need to be healed. Tomorrow, we will be out on another mission. Fuck."

[Host's vitals stable.]

[Tissue regeneration successful.]

[Healing Factor: 2 remaining.]

[System recommends six hours of rest.]

The familiar, calm voice of the System echoed in Zakar's head. His vision was hazy at first the world spun gently before settling into clarity. The faint blue light from the interface hovered before him, its transparent runes pulsating in rhythm with his slow, tired heartbeat.

He exhaled and lay back against the wall. His body still ached despite the Healing Factors he had used. Every muscle throbbed, every bone felt as it was being burnt. Even the simple act of breathing felt like scraping his lungs against a jagged blade.

Myia and Sera were asleep on the other side of the room exhausted, drained from the trials they had faced in the labyrinth.

Zakar stared at them for a moment, his eyes softening, then he looked down at his hands.

He clenched his fists. "Caslurk…" he muttered under his breath. "I really killed him."

The words left his lips like a confession.

He'd felt the pulse of life fade beneath his weapon. And he hated how natural it felt.

His expression hardened, but then he forced a bitter laugh.

"System," he called weakly. "I wanted to ask you something."

[Ask.]

"What's with the 'Extraction' thing? That interface popped up before Lemon attacked me. I didn't get the chance to check it."

The interface flickered, and the System's tone shifted deeper now, as if it was unlocking a part of its core that rarely spoke.

[Extraction Protocol:Explanation Requested.]

[Initializing detailed analysis.]

A pulse of blue light filled the room.

Zakar stared at it for a while trying to see what was going on.

[Extraction Definition:]

[The ability of the host to harness another being's life essence, converting fragments of their existence into power. Through Extraction, you may absorb their strength, memories, and attributes. The process, however, is parasitic. It devours the host's prey slowlyby eating the life, soul, and energy until nothing remains.]

[However, the success rate depends on the strength of your target.]

[Should your prey's spirit surpass your own, Extraction will fail and the backlash could destroy your body entirely.]

Zakar frowned. "So, in short, I could die if I try it on someone stronger than I am?"

[Affirmative.]

He rubbed his temples and sighed. "That's… dangerous. But still, I can absorb power without fighting? Sounds tempting."

[It is not recommended to use direct Extraction frequently. The process corrodes the mind and may distort your soul's balance.]

[Alternative method available.]

[Alternative Method: Corpse Extraction.]

[The host may extract energy from those he has slain specifically from corpses that received at least eighty percent of total damage from the host. This process allows you to recycle the essence of death and raise them as soldiers bound to your will.]

Zakar's eyes widened slightly. "Wait… raise them? You mean—"

[Correct. A battalion of corpses under your command.]

He blinked, the realization hitting him. "Isn't that basically the same as Shadow Magic? Like raising shadow soldiers or undead puppets? I thought I had the Death System, not the Necromancer System."

[Clarification:]

[The Shadow Magic draws from darkness external energy. It gives life to what was once lifeless, but only as echoes. Your System does not animate shadows; it reclaims essence. Death's power is not to mimic life, but to command it after it has ended.]

[In simple terms you do not control the dead; you own their remnants.

Their strength becomes yours. Their souls become your weapon.]

Zakar leaned back, a strange smile curving his lips. "So, if I slay a strong enemy… their power is mine?"

[Affirmative. You consume their essence, merge it, and evolve.]

"Evolution by death…" Zakar muttered, the words lingering like a whisper of sin. "That sounds… fitting."

He chuckled quietly, though there was no joy in it. Only a cold acceptance. The System's light dimmed faintly.

"Huh. I guess this will come in handy after all—" he paused as soon as he felt the wave of a red rift opening beside him. He shifted his gaze towards the rift and grinned.

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