The corpse was still warm.
That was the first thing Ren noticed.
Steam rose faintly from the torn chest cavity, carrying the thick iron scent of fresh blood. The thing that had once been a man lay twisted at Ren's feet, eyes wide open—frozen in a look of disbelief.
Ren didn't look away.
He couldn't afford to.
[Death Resource Detected.]
[Unclaimed Vital Remains: 83%]
The system's message hovered in the air, calm and indifferent.
Ren swallowed.
"So this is what I'm worth now," he muttered. "What I can take from the dead."
His lungs burned.
Not from exertion—but from hunger.
Not the kind food could fix.
The world demanded death to keep him alive.
Ren crouched slowly and pressed his palm against the corpse's chest.
The moment skin met cooling flesh, the ground trembled.
Black veins spread outward from his hand, sinking into the body like roots searching for water.
The corpse jerked once.
Then collapsed inward.
Not decaying.
Being emptied.
[Vital Extraction Successful.]
[Life Units Acquired: +3]
[Corruption Increase: +1.2%]
Ren staggered back, gasping as warmth flooded his veins. His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed.
He was alive.
And somewhere inside him, something purred in satisfaction.
"…I'm becoming a scavenger," he whispered.
A sound answered him.
Clapping.
Slow. Deliberate.
Ren spun around, blade already in his hand.
A man stood atop a broken wall, wrapped in a cloak made of stitched shadows. His face was hidden behind a mask shaped like a skull split down the middle.
"First time feeding?" the man asked lightly.
Ren said nothing.
The stranger chuckled. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, I'd be wearing your shadow already."
That didn't help.
"Who are you?" Ren demanded.
The man hopped down effortlessly, boots crunching on bone fragments. "A guide. A warning. Depends on how long you live."
Ren's grip tightened.
"People like you," the man continued, "newly Ascended, still pretending you're human—always make the same mistake."
He tapped his mask.
"You think feeding on the dead is the horror."
Ren's eyes narrowed.
"And it's not?"
The man leaned closer.
"No. The horror is when the dead stop being enough."
The air grew colder.
[Hostile Entity Approaching.]
Ren felt it before he saw it.
The corpse behind him twitched.
Then another.
Then another.
Dozens of bodies scattered across the battlefield shuddered as black mist poured from their mouths and eyes.
The stranger sighed. "Ah. Carrion Tide. Guess your meal rang the dinner bell."
"What do we do?" Ren asked sharply.
The man tilted his head. "We don't."
The dead rose.
Not as monsters.
As collectors.
[World Mechanism Activated: Reclamation.]
Ren backed away, heart pounding.
"They're taking the death energy," he realized. "They're reclaiming it."
The stranger nodded approvingly. "Smart. See? You'll last longer than most."
A corpse lunged.
Ren reacted on instinct, plunging his blade into its skull.
The body collapsed—but the energy didn't come to him.
It flowed upward.
Into the sky.
Ren stared.
"…The world eats first," he whispered.
The stranger's smile was audible.
"Exactly."
A bell rang in the distance—deep, mournful.
The collectors froze.
Then dispersed, melting back into corpses.
Silence returned.
Ren stood trembling amid the remains.
The stranger turned away.
"Lesson's over," he said. "Next time you feed, do it fast. Or do it hidden."
Ren hesitated. "Why help me?"
The man paused.
"Because this world doesn't need heroes," he replied.
"It needs survivors who know when to steal."
He vanished into shadow.
Ren looked down at his hands.
They were shaking.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
[Corruption: 9.8%]
[Status: Ascending]
Ren closed his eyes.
"I won't die here," he whispered.
Even if the world had to starve first
/ End of chapter 7/