I Siphon the Dead to Become the Strongest

Okay everyone, this is it. The final post. It’s been a slice, and I’ve loved writing for you all. Farewell... 😢

Kidding! I’m not going anywhere! Hahaha, the looks on your faces must be priceless right now. Who actually believed me? Come on, admit it! 

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As he shrugged into the shirt, another full-body yawn seized him, a jaw-cracking affair that made his ribs click. His entire musculature felt like it had been tenderized by a vengeful chef. Every movement was a negotiation with pain.

“Oh, my kingdom for a bucket of ibuprofen…” he muttered to himself, shuffling toward the door.

The blue system window shimmered into existence and floated alongside him like a persistent, sarcastic ghost.

[If you’re confused about why you feel like a truck used you for target practice, I can clarify.]

Ethan just grunted, fumbling his keys.

[Your base stats are, to put it charitably, E-Rank. Sub-optimal. Borderline embarrassing.]

[You then, in a moment of sheer, improbable luck, activated an S-Rank Unique Ability—Heavenly Demon. An ability not meant for a vessel of your… caliber.]

[Following that, you proceeded to spam lesser-rank skills, overclocking a system that was already running on fumes.]

The text paused, giving the impression of a digital headshake.

[Frankly, I’m more confused that you didn’t simply disintegrate into a pile of meaty confetti the next morning. The fatigue is your body’s very polite way of screaming for you to stop.]

“Hey!” Ethan barked, unlocking his door. “I got the job done, didn’t I? The sister-funding mission was a success. That’s all that matters.”

[The job almost got you killed six different ways. If you intend to survive future applications of that power—or, you know, live—you need to address the root cause.]

Ethan stepped out into the hallway of the gosiwon, the dull fluorescents doing no favors for his pounding head. “Address it how?”

[Increase your parameters. Augment your physical and metaphysical fortitude. In the crude vernacular of your kind: level up. Climb the ranks. Stop being an E-Rank embarrassment.]

Ethan stopped at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. He looked out the grimy window at the Saturday morning city, a place where thousands of Rankers were probably already doing push-ups and meditating to increase their mana cores.

A long, weary sigh escaped him. Not of defeat, but of profound disinterest.

“I don’t need to climb ranks,” he said, his voice quieter now, stripped of its usual defensive bluster. “I don’t want to.”

The system window pulsed, waiting.

“I don’t dream of being an A-Rank hero or some legendary guild master,” Ethan continued, starting his slow, careful descent down the stairs. “That life… it’s all glory and pressure and stupid, flashy costumes. It’s hard work. I prefer… this.”

He gestured vaguely, encompassing the cramped hallway, the distant sound of a neighbor’s TV, the mundane reality of it all.

“This is closer to normal. My job is simple: go into a gate, survive, get paid. Use the money to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. See Mia graduate. Make sure she never has to look at a tuition bill and feel her stomach drop.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed the heavy front door open, squinting in the morning light.

“My goal isn’t to stand at the pinnacle,” he said finally, his words firm with a conviction that surprised even him. “It’s just to support her until she’s standing firmly on her own. That’s it. That’s the whole mission. Anything more is just… extra credit.”

The system was silent for a long moment. The blue text simply hovered in the corner of his vision, not scrolling, not judging. Just… present.

Then, a single new line appeared, its tone inscrutable.

[A curiously narrow ambition for a man who can channel a Heavenly Demon.]

[And a profoundly difficult one. Very well.]

Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets and began his aching trek to the pharmacy, the silent, sentient weight of a god-like system trailing behind him, now bound not to a hero’s journey, but to a brother’s promise.

The trek to the pharmacy felt longer than the entire delve into the C-Rank gate. Every step was a chore, and the morning breeze, which should have been refreshing, felt like it was actively trying to freeze the lactic acid into his joints.

Halfway there, Ethan surrendered. He spotted a weathered wooden bench in a small, quiet park and practically collapsed onto it, his body making a sound like a deflating balloon.

He attempted to stretch his shoulders, raising his arms slowly. Click. Pop. Snap.

“Hhhng...” Ethan let out a sharp, silent grunt, his face twisting into a grimace. It felt as though his bones had been replaced with rusty gears that hadn’t been oiled in a century.

He slumped back, staring up at the canopy of green leaves overhead. ”Of course,” he muttered, his voice thick with betrayal. ”Of course the pharmacy closest to the house is closed on Saturdays and Sundays. My luck isn’t just bad; it’s practically a superpower at this point.”

He was just about to contemplate if he could simply lie there until the pain disappeared or until he became part of the park’s landscaping when a sudden shadow fell over him. A familiar, sweet scent—something like wild berries and steel—drifted into his space.

Ethan looked up and blinked.

Standing before him was a flash of vibrant pink hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes. It was Lindis. There was no mistaking her; between the striking hair and her... significant assets—those unmistakable milk jugs that seemed to defy several laws of physics—she was an impossible figure to overlook.

”Ethan?!” Lindis exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. ”What are you doing sitting here all lonely in the middle of the morning? Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, napping in a pile of laundry somewhere?”

Ethan sighed, not even having the energy to be properly defensive. ”I’m not being lonely. I’m being stationary,” he groaned, gesturing vaguely to his entire frame. ”My body has officially gone on strike. I can’t handle any more walking. I’m so fatigued that if I tried to sprint, I’m convinced the first step would just slam me face-first into the concrete. Gravity has a personal vendetta against me today.”

---

Phew. Did you guys feel that? I almost had a moment of genuine sincerity there. Ethan’s actually a good brother, and for a second, I forgot he’s also a human puddle of lactic acid. 😂

I know some of you are probably screaming ’WHY ISN’T HE LEVELING UP?!’ but please, let the man suffer in peace for one chapter! He’s out here fighting gravity and losing. Also, can we talk about Lindis appearing at the exact moment he’s at his lowest? The universe really has a sense of humor.

Anyway, I’m off to brainstorm more ways to make Ethan’s life a living nightmare. See you all around 6 PM for the next drop!