Kael learned the truth the moment the corpse dissolved.
The body at his feet—once human, once screaming—collapsed into gray dust, leaving behind a faint glow pulsing at the center of the cratered ground.
A shard.
No.
A remnant.
[Death Processed.]
[Residual Value Extracted.]
The message appeared without ceremony.
Kael stared at the floating fragment of light, his chest tight. It drifted toward him like a moth to flame, sinking into his body without resistance.
The sensation was immediate.
Not strength.
Not warmth.
Weight.
His lungs felt heavier. His thoughts sharpened painfully, as if squeezed through a narrower space. Memories that weren't his brushed against his mind—fear, regret, unfinished rage—before being crushed into something usable.
[Soul Mass Increased.]
Kael staggered back, bracing himself against a cracked stone pillar.
"…So that's it," he muttered.
This world didn't just kill.
It recycled.
The battlefield around him told the same story. Corpses—monsters, humans, things in between—were fading one by one, leaving nothing behind except faint wisps of energy being drawn upward into the blood-red sky.
Feeding something unseen.
Above him, the clouds churned slowly, lazily—like a predator digesting a meal.
"This whole world…" Kael whispered, bile rising in his throat.
"…feeds on the dead."
A laugh echoed nearby.
Sharp. Dry. Too calm for someone surrounded by corpses.
"You figured it out faster than most."
Kael turned.
A man leaned against a broken wall, armor cracked, cloak torn, one eye glowing faintly green. His sword rested point-down in the dirt, hands folded casually over the pommel.
He looked tired.
Not wounded.
Experienced.
"Who are you?" Kael asked.
The man tilted his head. "Someone who survived long enough to stop asking that question."
He pushed himself upright and stepped forward, boots crunching over bone fragments.
"Name's Varek," he continued. "Ascended Tier—Low. If you're wondering whether to fight me, don't."
Kael didn't move.
"I wasn't."
Varek snorted. "Good. You'd die. Then you'd be useful."
The words landed heavier than any threat.
Kael clenched his jaw. "So killing makes us stronger."
"Yes," Varek said simply. "And being killed makes the world stronger."
He gestured upward with his sword.
"Every death feeds the System. Every soul thickens the world's foundation. That's why resurrection exists."
Kael's blood ran cold.
"…Resurrection?"
Varek's eye flicked to him sharply.
"Oh," he said softly. "You didn't know."
He smiled then—and it wasn't kind.
"Those who die with enough Soul Mass don't disappear. They get recycled. Thrown back in. Stripped. Re-ranked."
The memory slammed into Kael's mind.
Waking up again.
The pain.
The knowledge that death hadn't freed him.
"So dying isn't failure," Kael said slowly.
"It's contribution."
Varek nodded. "Now you're learning."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Kael asked the question burning in his chest.
"What happens when someone refuses to feed it?"
Varek studied him for a long moment.
Then he laughed again—quiet, almost sad.
"Then the world notices."
As if summoned by the words, the air shifted.
Pressure descended like a hand closing around Kael's spine.
[Attention Detected.]
[Source: Unknown.]
Kael's vision blurred at the edges.
Varek stepped back immediately.
"Ah," he muttered. "That answers that."
Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright as something vast brushed against his awareness—not a presence, but a measurement. As if he were being weighed.
Judged.
[Irregularity Flag Raised.]
The ground trembled.
Somewhere far away, something adjusted its focus.
Varek exhaled slowly. "You're interesting, kid. That's not a compliment."
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it came.
Kael sagged, gasping.
"…What was that?"
Varek sheathed his sword.
"An auditor," he said. "Or a god. Or the System itself. Hard to tell. They all blur together after a while."
Kael looked up, eyes burning.
"And if I don't want to play along?"
Varek met his gaze.
"Then you'd better get strong enough to break the rules," he said.
"Because this world doesn't allow abstinence."
He turned to leave, pausing only once.
"Oh—and one more thing."
Kael waited.
Varek glanced back over his shoulder.
"The dead aren't just currency," he said.
"They're votes."
Then he disappeared into the ruins.
Kael stood alone again, surrounded by fading corpses and a sky that watched without blinking.
He looked down at his hands.
They were shaking.
Not from fear.
From understanding.
"…Fine," he whispered.
If this world fed on the dead—
Then he would decide which deaths mattered.
Above him, unseen mechanisms shifted.
The world had taken its first real bite.
And Kael had just noticed its teeth.
/End of chapter 6/