THE ZOMBIE SYSTEM-Chapter 40: The Strategy Proposal & Refusal

Director Cormund Veyr didn’t raise his voice—but when he spoke, the room fell silent.

"Six Abyssal Generals. Six cities. We need six frontlines."

He tapped his wrist console, and a 3D map unfolded in midair. Red sigils marked six major urban zones across the country, each one flashing with an ominous countdown above it—56:10:20.

"The Association proposes two divisions," Grandmaster Saria continued, her arms folded. "Evacuation and Engagement."

On cue, another layer slid into place on the projection. Colored markers dotted the cities—blue for civilians, gold for registered hunters, and green for mobilized guild assets.

"Every C- through E-Rank hunter will assist in the evacuation of civilians. That includes support classes and low-rank specialists."

A few guild heads exchanged glances—some reluctantly, others already calculating routes and capacity.

"Every B-Rank and above," Cormund said, his eyes scanning the room, "will be assigned to combat."

A beat passed. No one objected.

"These elite hunters will be split into six combat divisions—each assigned to one of the Abyssal Generals when they land. Your job is not to hold the line. Your job is to kill whatever comes through that crack in the sky."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"Three guilds will remain in the capital to defend this city," Saria added. "Given its population and infrastructure, it’s likely to be targeted first."

She tapped the map again, and the capital zone swelled into focus. Street grids, evacuation tunnels, mana-grid barriers. All of it layered in tactical overlays.

"The remaining ten guilds," Cormund said, "will divide themselves among the remaining five cities. Pick your zones. Establish your command posts. The Association will support with artifact deployments, mana shields, and long-range communication relays."

"And the solos?" asked Alenia Swiftmere, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.

"They’ll be allowed to choose their field—support whichever region they wish. So long as they check in with the city’s command team first."

Murmurs again. Less judgment this time. More anxiety.

They were realizing this was real.

No longer just a system warning.

A war plan.

A reckoning.

Leon still hadn’t spoken. Still hadn’t moved.

But more eyes were drifting toward him now.

And the silence around him was growing louder.

_ _ _

Silence clung to the war room like dust.

Holograms flickered midair, the countdown still ticking down in red above six marked cities. Guild leaders murmured, fingers tapping against table edges. Chairs creaked as battle-hardened elites leaned in to negotiate their roles in the coming defense.

And then—Leon raised his hand.

Not high. Just enough.

It was a quiet gesture, but it landed like a bell struck in a crypt.

Every voice stopped.

Thirteen guild leaders. Three Association directors. Over a dozen S-Rank hunters. All turned to look at the man seated apart, arms crossed, coat still scorched from battle.

Leon’s expression didn’t shift. His tone was casual—unhurried, cool.

"I won’t be joining your teams."

The words landed like a dropped blade.

Guild Master Vensh of Crimson Fangs blinked. "What?"

Leon stood.

"I work alone."

A pulse of disbelief rippled through the room.

"Is this a joke?" muttered Marren, head of Silverbite Clan.

"He thinks he’s above the rest of us now," someone else whispered.

"He’s not even part of a guild—"

"Typical necromancer arrogance..."

Grandmaster Saria arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She was watching him. Closely.

Leon’s gaze swept the room, but he didn’t meet any eyes directly. He wasn’t here to argue. He wasn’t here to be liked.

He was here to speak his truth.

"These six generals?" he said. "They’re not the end. They’re the opening move."

The air felt heavier now, like the room itself leaned in to listen.

"They’re pawns," Leon continued, voice low, but steady. "They’re sent to test us. To wear us down. But the one pulling the strings—the real enemy—is still watching. Still waiting."

A hush fell across the table. Even the most vocal skeptics had nothing to say.

"Make your plans. Divide your teams. Fight your war the way you think it needs to be fought."

He turned then. No grand gesture. No drama.

Just a quiet pivot of the heel, coat brushing the floor.

"I’ll fight mine my way."

And without waiting for permission, comment, or rebuttal, Leon Graves walked out.

The doors closed behind him.

And for a full five seconds, no one in the war room moved.

A Quiet Moment in the Hospital

The beeping was soft. Steady. A slow rhythm, like a reminder that time, no matter how chaotic outside, still ticked gently in here.

Leon sat in the chair beside her bed, coat draped over the backrest, his shirt torn near the shoulder, dried blood lining the collar. He didn’t look tired—but the exhaustion was in the stillness of his body. The kind of stillness that came after too much violence. Too many choices.

His mother lay motionless, the sheets drawn neatly to her chest, her face peaceful under the faint glow of a healing enchantment suspended above her. The sigils pulsed in time with her breathing. Whoever the hospital had on staff—they were good.

But not good enough to undo what ARES had done.

Leon didn’t speak. He hadn’t said anything since walking in.

He just... sat.

Every so often, his eyes would flick to the window. Then back to her. His fingers curled, then unclenched.

For once, the system said nothing. No alerts. No popups. Just quiet.

And Leon welcomed it.

But the peace wouldn’t last.

Not in this world.

Not anymore.

System Management – Power Check & New Summons

He finally opened his system interface—not with urgency, but with the calm of someone who knew exactly what he needed to see.

The window shimmered into view, casting a faint blue glow over his pale hands.

Stats. Abilities. Summons.

And one line, glowing brighter than the others:

[Kill Confirmed: Human-Type Target – System Recognition: Tobias Virell]

[New Rule Activated: Soul Harvest Protocol – Human-Class Target Grants Stat Points]

Leon’s eyes narrowed.

So it wasn’t just monsters.

Other systems—what he’d learned about them—they only advanced by dungeon kills. By fighting beasts. Creatures.

But his?

His granted power when he killed people.

He stared at the line for a long time.

Then slowly, quietly, accepted the pending stat allocation.

The points blinked into focus.

[Stat Points Available: 150]

He took a breath. Then started distributing.

+25 Strength. He’d need more close-range impact. Some enemies weren’t going to give him the space to shoot.

+45 Agility. Movement mattered. Reflexes saved lives. Especially now, when the fights ahead would be waged in seconds.

+25 Stamina. If his body broke down mid-battle, everything else would collapse with it.

+55 Mana. His summons. His skills. His gun. It all ran on this. And the more he had—the more relentless he could be.

The interface shimmered, processing the changes.

The boost hit like a surge of heat in his limbs. Subtle, but unmistakable. His vision cleared slightly. His fingers steadied.

Then came the second tab—Summons.

He tapped it.

Tobias’s profile now sat at the top.

[General-Class Summon: Tobias Virell]

Type: Assassin

Core Trait: Blood Veil

Abilities: Blink Step, Backstab Execution, Shadow Nest, Telekinetic Blade Recall

Leon exhaled, a low sound in the back of his throat.

Tobias, even in undeath, was powerful. Maybe more so. And now—he was loyal. Silent. Deadly.

Leon’s eyes flicked further down.