The first thing Akira noticed when he woke up was the cold. It wasn’t the kind that seeped into your bones after a night spent outside—it was deeper, more absolute. A chill that didn’t just touch his skin but clung to something deeper, something beneath flesh and blood.

He took a sharp breath, expecting pain, expecting exhaustion. Instead, his body felt… fine. No hunger, no thirst, no aching muscles. Just the cold.

He sat up.

The world around him was gray and lifeless. Gravestones stretched in all directions, some cracked and weathered, others newer, their inscriptions still legible. A light mist rolled over the uneven ground, curling around the bases of tombstones like ghostly fingers. The sky was an endless stretch of dim twilight—no sun, no stars. Just an oppressive, heavy gray.

Akira frowned. Where am I?

Then, the memories came.

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A knife.

The sensation of cold steel slipping between his ribs, the dull pressure before the pain set in. The gasp that tore from his throat, the way his body had locked up, hands trembling as warmth spilled down his side. A streetlamp overhead, flickering. Footsteps fading into the distance.

Betrayal.

He had trusted them. He wasn’t naive—he knew better than to put faith in others so easily—but he had miscalculated. He thought he had leverage. He thought they needed him.

He was wrong.

The last thing he remembered was lying on the pavement, staring up at the night sky, realizing just how insignificant he was in that moment.

Then… nothing.

Now, he was here.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind.

[You have awakened.]

It wasn’t a sound. More like a thought placed directly into his head, impersonal and calm.

He stiffened. “Who said that?” His voice came out steady despite the unease creeping up his spine.

No answer.

Just as he was about to dismiss it as his imagination, something new appeared before his eyes. Not physically—more like an imprint on his vision, words forming in the air.

[Fate has abandoned you. The Cycle rejects you. You do not belong.]

A cold knot formed in his stomach. What the hell does that mean?

Before he could process it, more words appeared.

[You have been granted the System.]

[Your existence is now your own to shape.]

His breath came slower now, controlled. A system? That sounded familiar—like something out of a game. But this was real. Too real.

More text appeared.

[Initial Skill Acquired: Raise Undead]

[A body is required.]

Akira lowered his gaze.

Just a few feet away, partially buried in loose dirt, was a corpse.

It was fresh.