Lee Hwan couldn't stop trembling.
Not because he was afraid—but because something inside him had changed. It wasn't obvious to others. On the surface, he still looked like the same weakling with scuffed boots and a standard-issue starter cloak that screamed "noob." His hands were a little steadier now, his steps a little sharper, but nothing that would turn heads in the bustling virtual cityscape of Systemverse Online. But deep within, beyond the code, beyond the UI and flashy banners that screamed "LIMITED RAID ENTRY – BUY NOW," something monstrous stirred.
It started with the first kill. Not a mob. Not an NPC. A player. A real one. It had been an accident—or at least that's what Hwan kept telling himself. He hadn't meant to do it. Zerack had come for him with cruel laughter and cocky arrogance, expecting an easy loot grab from a newbie with no guild, no power, and no presence on the PvP boards. But when that old, glitchy skill activated—when the unknown system inside him awoke—it changed the rules.
And now? Zerack's system was gone from the world, and inside him instead.
It had slithered into his interface without prompt, without installation, as if it belonged there all along.
[System Absorbed: Passive - Razor Instincts (Rare)]
[Unique Trait Gained: Death-Link Integration]
The pop-ups had vanished quickly. The rush, though? That lingered. Like static in his blood. Like caffeine for his brain.
He'd logged out afterward, fingers shaking, pulse racing, eyes unfocused. It had taken him hours to calm down. But even in the quiet of his tiny, windowless room in the back alleys of Mapo, even with only the hum of his PC fans and the clatter of old pipes to keep him company, he couldn't shake the feeling that something inside him had changed permanently. Not in-game. Not virtually. He had changed.
And so, like any addict chasing the first high, he logged back in.
Now, seated on a low rooftop in a dead PvP zone, his cloak fluttering in the wind like a half-burnt banner, Hwan finally allowed himself to think. Really think. He didn't like what he saw in the mirror of his thoughts.
I just killed someone to unlock my system. The thought, though true, felt hollow. It wasn't murder, right? Zerack would respawn. That's how the game worked. A slight level penalty. Maybe some gear dropped. No big deal. Except… Zerack hadn't logged back in. The forums had exploded with speculation—was he hacked? Rage quit? System crash? But a few fringe threads whispered darker ideas. Someone posted the clip of Zerack's last moments. In that blurry, jerky footage, Hwan's character could be seen looming above the corpse. Just standing. Still. Silent.
"This guy's bugged. What even is that ability?" "No kill log appeared. That's not normal." "WTF? No loot either?"
The threads were buried quickly. Flagged. Removed. But Hwan had seen them. And more importantly, he remembered what he felt in that moment.
It wasn't joy. It wasn't rage. It wasn't even survival.
It was hunger.
Not a physical hunger, not the kind ramen or choco pies could fix. This was system-deep. It was as if part of the game was reaching out, whispering, "More." And now that he'd tasted what came from devouring another's system, from claiming a piece of their power and making it his, he knew he wouldn't—couldn't—go back to being ordinary.
So he waited. Watched. Calculated.
In the ruins of an abandoned industrial zone outside the level 20 raid gates, he stalked low-level players. Not to kill them, no. That would be foolish. He didn't want to draw attention. But he needed to understand the limits of his new power. He needed data. And so he observed.
Some systems were flashy. Bright blue auras. Lightning bolts. Shields made of sound. Some were more subtle—passives that enhanced crafting, healing, trading. Useless in a fight, but interesting all the same.
His own base stats were still garbage. His class was officially listed as "Unranked Rogue," a placeholder the devs gave to systemless players who never picked a starting path. Before last night, that was him—just another weakling in a world of overpowered rich kids and sponsored streamers. But now, he had something none of them did: a system that could eat others.
But there was a catch.
The system didn't activate on command. He couldn't just press a button and absorb someone. The only time it worked—the only time—was when he killed someone whose system wasn't protected. If they had permadeath protections, no dice. If they logged out in time, it failed. But if he caught them unaware? If they died while online and active?
Their power became his.
So it begins.
He closed his eyes and focused. The faint aura of Zerack's system still pulsed in his core, like a second heartbeat. Razor Instincts—it was just a rare-tier passive. Nothing special. But it gave him the edge now. Faster reaction time. Increased crit chance when cornered. More importantly, it gave him a feel for what his body could do under pressure.
He could hear footsteps now from ten meters away. He could read movements. Predict dodges. Even smell the faint ozone of incoming lightning spells.
He needed more.
By late afternoon, the sky above the game world turned a lazy purple. The city lights flickered on. Street vendors—actual NPCs coded with AI banter—shouted about fried squid sticks and turbo-energy drinks. Players passed by in clusters, chatting in voice or text, ignoring the background chatter. Among them, Hwan walked like a shadow. His name still meant nothing. His gear was mismatched. His cloak had holes. Nobody looked twice.
That was good.
In a quiet alley near the edge of the Bronze Sector, a young player stood trading with a glitchy vendor NPC. Hwan's eyes scanned him quickly.
Player: NINETOES \n System: [Lesser Spatial Anchor] – Rank: C
Teleport skill. Rare for this level bracket. Probably bought with real money.
He waited.
The player finished his trade, turned, and walked right into a shadow trap. Nothing flashy. Just a makeshift ability Hwan had stitched together using Razor Instincts and some trash code from abandoned quest lines. The moment NINETOES' health dropped below 10%, the world around them glitched.
[Initiating Devour Sequence…]
[System Devour: Successful.]
[You have gained: Blink Step (Unstable – 3 Uses)]
NINETOES screamed—but he didn't log out fast enough.
And when his corpse faded into red mist, Hwan felt it again.
That surge. That flood of code and fire and something older.
He didn't smile. He didn't laugh.
But he whispered, "Two down."
Back in reality, Hwan's body trembled again—but not from fear this time. From anticipation.
He wasn't a killer. Not really. This was just the cost of survival. The cost of becoming someone.
His YouTube analytics were exploding. That old clip—Zerack's death—was now sitting at 1.4 million views. People thought it was a bug. A new secret boss. A hidden class. No one suspected that the boy behind the screen was still level 11, still broke, still eating instant noodles from a cracked bowl.
But they would know. One day.
Soon.
He stood up, stretching his stiff arms. He didn't bother checking his subscriber count anymore. That wasn't the goal. Fame was a tool. Money? Sure. But the real target—the real dream—was deeper.
He wanted to change the world.
One system at a time.