Elias, unaware that his emotional state had rippled through to his companions, continued drowning in his sorrow and despair.
Deep within his consciousness space, a shadowy orb floated silently in the void. It seemed to devour the surrounding light, drawing all brightness into itself. Inside that orb, a tiny golden dragon-shaped spirit circled lazily. Cold, proud, and ancient—this was the system. As always, it observed everything with a detached, almost scornful gaze.
"Hmph," the little dragon grunted, its voice cold and echoing within the space. "This punk… does he think shedding tears will change anything?"
Despite those harsh words, a flicker of emotion passed through the dragon's glowing eyes.
Because he understood.
That feeling of being helpless. Of being small. Of having absolutely nothing to rely on.
Many souls had crumbled under that weight. To survive such despair was already an achievement in itself.
Not far from the orb, floating beyond a thin barrier that surrounded it, was a golden box engraved with divine runes. These runes pulsed faintly with power. Inside the box was a thumb-sized spirit—a little translucent golden figure.
It was Alia.
Right now, her tiny face was scrunched up in worry, not knowing what to do or say.
She wanted to help. Truly, she did.
But her knowledge was limited. Unlike the system, her memories had been wiped clean by Lady Karma. She also couldn't access Elias's memories from Earth. So, she didn't even know what exactly he was going through.
She was completely helpless.
At the same time, outside of the consciousness space, Vael stood silently by. He watched Elias with his usual calm expression, but behind that calmness was a storm of emotions.
Through their bond, he felt everything his master felt—his sadness, shame, and self-hate.
But there was nothing he could say or do to ease the pain.
All he could do was stand and watch as his master silently cried.
But then—
Elias's expression began to shift.
The tears slowed. His face hardened.
He frowned deeply, jaw clenched, and his breathing steadied. Slowly, he raised his head.
"…Why am I crying?" he whispered.
What was the point of crying?
If he truly wanted to become strong, then he had to fight. If he wanted power, he had to earn it.
Back on Earth, power came through money. Status and wealth controlled everything. The rich lived without fear—they bullied, crushed others, and walked free because they could afford to. He had never stood a chance there.
His grades were average. His talents were nothing special. And his karma? Cursed.
He never had a path to wealth or power. He was just another below-average person struggling to survive.
But here…
Here, strength was the only currency that mattered.
And he had been given a powerful class, a rare talent, and a second life—one free of cursed karma.
So why the hell was he wasting time crying?
If he truly wanted power…
Then he would train.
And train.
Until his bones cracked and his body broke.
Until no one—absolutely no one—in this world could dare to step on him again.
That was how he would survive. That was how he would rise.
His gaze sharpened. The tears dried up under the heat of his burning resolve.
"I'll become strong enough to crush heaven and earth if I have to," he whispered, determination flashing in his eyes.
Inside the dark orb, the dragon spirit snorted.
"Tch. At least the punk's got some willpower."
Within the golden box, Alia twirled mid-air and giggled in joy.
"Hehe~ Master seems better now!"
Outside, Vael finally relaxed a little, feeling his master's storm of emotions slowly calm.
Unaware of what had just happened within, Elias pushed himself to his feet. His eyes blazed with new determination. He turned toward Vael.
"Let's go again."
Vael blinked. "Master, you should rest—"
"I said, again."
The firmness in Elias's voice left no room for argument.
Vael paused, then gave a slow nod.
"…Understood."
With that, the sparring resumed.
This time, Elias didn't let frustration take over. He didn't care about winning or losing anymore. Now, he was fully focused on improving—his stance, his form, and every little detail, just like Vael had been instructing.
If he couldn't win today—then he'd win tomorrow.
If tomorrow wasn't enough—then in a week.
A month.
A year.
Even a decade.
He would keep going until the day he stood above all.
Vael found himself slowly being pushed.
Elias' movements weren't clean, and they weren't fast either. But one thing was clear—they were relentless.
And gradually, Vael began to feel it.
Pressure—not just the pressure from the fight, but a different kind. A pressure to grow stronger.
Even he couldn't ignore it anymore.
Unknowingly, Elias' bond with his summon ran deeper than emotions or words. It wasn't just a connection—it was a force. A bond that could shape and forge his summon over time. Elias' intense resolve and stubborn will were slowly being etched into Vael.
And as Elias' will to rise grew stronger, that same determination echoed inside Vael.
'I must become stronger,' the undead thought. 'Stronger, so I can stand by my master… and protect him with pride.'
They continued sparring for hours.
And finally, when the sun began to dip low and the sky turned orange, the soft golden light bathed their training ground in a warm glow. Elias, panting hard, raised a hand.
"Let's stop for now," he said between heavy breaths.
Vael nodded and stepped back, walking toward the small shack and leaning silently against it—the same spot he always returned to after training. Elias, soaked in sweat and aching all over, dragged himself to a spot near the new two-storey house. He slumped against the wall, his chest rising and falling slowly as he caught his breath.
He closed his eyes and began thinking back on the sparring session.
Still… not a single hit.
It was honestly laughable.
'But… there's still tomorrow.'
Just then—
> [Tch. You greedy punk.]
The system's voice rang in his head.
"Huh?" Elias muttered, startled.
> [Aren't you underestimating the value of combat and warriors?]
Elias blinked, confused. "What… are you talking about?"
The system scoffed.
> [You're acting like you should've landed a hit on Vael today. Are you dumb? That man was a true warrior. A shadow-killer who lived in the jaws of death. You think one day of training makes you worthy to touch him? That wouldn't just be unfair—it would insult everything he once was.]
Elias frowned slightly.
"…When you put it that way…"
Vael had been an assassin who killed without being seen. His targets never even knew they were marked. Even though he was now undead, those instincts—the ones shaped by blood, darkness, and survival—were still alive in his bones.
That… was real combat experience.
And the weight of that realization hit Elias hard.
Even though they had the same stats… combat experience was something entirely different.
"…Then why can't I even land a single hit?" he asked softly.
Inside the consciousness space, the system groaned.
> [Idiot. Stats aren't everything. There's something called power conversion.]
Elias furrowed his brow. "Power… conversion?"
> [Why do you think people in life-or-death situations suddenly explode with strength?]
Elias frowned. It was true. In dangerous moments, people and animals often displayed strength far beyond what they normally could. A rabbit escaping from a predator that's ten times faster. A human lifting something they normally couldn't even move. How? Why?
Why did that happen?
And what does it have to do with him now?