1:57 p.m. – Rooftop, Ashwalker Safehouse, Midtown
Ezra couldn't move. Flames licked the edges of the rooftop. The heat was suffocating, blinding. Smoke filled his lungs. His skin burned, peeled. Blood pooled beneath him.
Pain. So much pain.
And then he saw him—the red-haired man with fire for eyes.
Inquisitor Vance.
The man stepped through flame like it was air, each footstep sizzling into the concrete. His coat danced around him, unburned. He raised a single hand.
Selene leapt in the way.
"GET BACK!" she screamed.
A wave of searing heat burst forward.
She shimmered—and vanished just in time.
Ezra coughed, dragging himself toward the edge. His legs didn't respond. His arms shook. Every breath was a blade.
I'm going to die again.
His mind reeled.
But deep inside… something stirred.
A voice.
Not words.
Emotion.
Rise.
Ezra's fingers clawed at the cracked rooftop.
"Ezra!" Selene's voice tore through the chaos. "Call them—NOW!"
He looked back.
Two Phoenix Squad agents advanced. One raised a halberd, its blade glowing with solar enchantment. Another aimed a pulse rifle.
Ezra reached deep—deeper than pain, deeper than logic—into that cavern inside him, the one that felt… wrong. Cold. Infinite.
His eyes rolled back.
"Arise," he whispered, voice not his own.
[Necromancy: Rank 0]Skill Activated: GravecallMana Cost: ???Sanity Cost: ModerateWarning: Insufficient Control Parameters
The rooftop trembled.
From the ashes, bones stirred.
No-Neck's remains began to move—flesh weaving itself back over charred skeleton. Not fully, not cleanly. But enough.
It screamed.
Not a human scream.
Something… older.
The Phoenix soldier hesitated.
Ezra pointed. "Kill him."
The creature obeyed.
It launched at the soldier, blackened claws tearing into the man's chest plate. Screams filled the sky. Blood sprayed like mist.
The second soldier fired—but the reanimated corpse moved like smoke, like a puppet without strings.
Selene landed beside Ezra, eyes wide. "You—what did you—?!"
Ezra collapsed.
2:10 p.m. – Ashwalker Medical Den
Pain blurred into dreams. In one, Ezra saw his mother again.
She was smiling in a hospital bed. Her hand brushed his hair. "You'll be great one day, Ez. Maybe even better than me."
He tried to speak.
But her face changed.
Melted.
Screamed.
He jolted awake.
The room was dim. A stitched-up curtain divided the space. Selene sat nearby, covered in ash and blood. She looked like hell—and yet, still haunting.
"You're up," she said. "Took long enough."
He groaned. "How bad?"
"You broke your left femur, cracked two ribs, second-degree burns across your back, and bled from your eyes."
"Oh. Just that?"
She smirked faintly. "You're healing. Fast. Like, not normal fast."
Ezra sat up with effort. "What happened to the others?"
"Phoenix Squad retreated once you summoned… that thing. The Ashwalkers scrambled a null-shield, masked your signature. But they'll be back."
Ezra swallowed. "I couldn't… control it. It moved on its own."
"That's Gravecall. Forbidden-tier necromancy. You reached into raw memory and forced a partial resurrection. Most mages can't even see that ability until Rank C."
"So why did I?"
Selene hesitated. "Because you're not normal, Ezra. The System doesn't know where to place you. It's giving you power early—but it's not giving you the tools to handle it."
"That's comforting."
"You're a walking chaos node."
He looked down at his hands. They trembled faintly.
"I killed someone today."
Selene looked away. "He would've killed you first."
"I know." Ezra leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling. "I still saw his eyes when he died."
They sat in silence.
Then—
Selene pulled something from her coat. A black cube with soft runes.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Your first Class Anchor. It'll let the System start tracking your progression. Normally, you get one from the Guild, but… well…"
"They want me dead."
"Exactly."
She pressed the cube into his palm.
It dissolved instantly.
[Class Path Detected: Dual-Type – Necromancer / Strength User][Initializing System Bind...][Warning: Class Fusion Incompatible with Standard Tree][Custom Path Generating...]
Ezra's mind flashed white.
Stats.
Abilities.
Names he didn't recognize.
Then—
[Class: Forsaken Bastion]Rank: Unclassified (0.0%)Title: GraveboundCore Traits: Soulbind | Undying Resolve | Necrograsp (Passive)Status: Chaotic Anchor – Progression Unstable
He blinked.
"I'm a what?"
Selene leaned in. "Forsaken Bastion… that's not a known class."
"Is that bad?"
"No," she said slowly. "It's terrifying."
6:30 p.m. – Ashwalker Briefing Room
The table was scarred with old burn marks and bloodstains. Around it sat six Ashwalkers. All were older. Harder.
Selene stood at the front with Ezra beside her.
"This is Ezra Quinn," she announced. "Gravebound. Forsaken Bastion. Unranked but dangerous."
A muscular man with one arm grunted. "We saw the footage. He's a nuke without a timer."
A woman with a jagged scar across her eye added, "And now the Guild wants him turned to ash."
Selene spoke calmly. "I'm not asking for blind loyalty. I'm asking for protection. He's not just a threat. He's a weapon."
Ezra looked around. "I didn't ask for this."
The scarred woman raised a brow. "And yet here you are, dripping with power."
"I'm not a hero," Ezra said. "I've never been anything but a foster kid who got left behind. I'm not trying to start a war."
One-Armed Guy stood. "War's already here, boy. And you're the flame under the fuse."
They stared each other down.
Finally, the man grinned.
"I say we keep him."
Selene blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah. If the Guild wants him dead, he's probably worth something."
The rest nodded, reluctant but accepting.
Ezra exhaled.
"Thanks, I guess."
Scarred Woman smirked. "Don't thank us yet. You're training tomorrow."
8:00 p.m. – Lower Quarantine Zone, Brooklyn Outskirts
Later that night, Ezra stood alone in the ruins of a collapsed apartment block. Smoke still clung to the air.
Selene had brought him here for practice.
"Try again," she said. "Gravecall. But smaller. Just bones. No souls."
Ezra knelt by a collapsed skeleton, crushed under concrete. Maybe a child. Maybe not.
He closed his eyes.
Only bone. No pain. No memory.
[Gravecall – Suppressed Mode Activated]
The skeleton rattled. Slowly, it reassembled—not fully, but enough to stand. It didn't scream. It didn't twitch.
It simply waited.
Ezra opened his eyes and gasped.
"It… worked."
Selene nodded. "Now command it to fetch that blade."
He did.
It obeyed.
Ezra smiled faintly. "I could get used to this."
Selene studied him. "Be careful. The more you use them, the more they… remember."
He turned. "What do you mean?"
"Necromancy doesn't just bring bodies. It taps into the soul. The longer you keep them… the more they regain."
Ezra looked back at the skeleton.
It stood still.
But now it tilted its head.
And for a second, he could've sworn it was looking at him.