Kaito woke with a grunt and the sharp realization that he was suffocating under warmth and limbs.
Two small bodies were curled against him — one under his arm, the other half draped across his chest like a determined barnacle. The air was hot, his back ached, and the mattress was about one sneeze away from collapsing.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake them. Yuna’s hand was clenched in the fabric of his shirt, and Yuki’s face was buried in his ribs.
They weren’t letting go.
They’d refused to sleep in their room last night. Not after what happened. Not after the blood, the screaming, the bodies on the floor. No amount of reassurance had been enough. When he tried to tuck them in elsewhere, they just followed him back like scared shadows.
So here they were — three people crammed into one too-small bed, in a rotting barn that creaked with every gust of wind.
He didn’t complain.
Not even when one of them kicked him in her sleep.
Not even when his arm went numb halfway through the night.
They needed this.
He blinked up at the wooden ceiling and sighed.
“I kill three bandits, craft four meat puppets, and now I’m a human teddy bear. Great.” It wasn’t even a real complaint—more like a resigned, exhausted kind of gratitude wrapped in sarcasm.
The rafters creaked. A bird chirped somewhere. Probably mutated.
His shirt stuck to him with dried sweat and blood. The barn smelled like hay, old wood, and someone’s rotting lunch.
He tried to sit up. Failed. Too many limbs.
[LILITH: Awwww~☆ Family nap time! Should I bring you a corpse pillow?☆]
“Lilith,” he muttered under his breath, “shut up.”
[LILITH: Okay~☆ But you’re gonna miss my lullaby settings~☆]
Still alive. Still Level 1. Still cursed.
Still had an AI with bloodlust and sparkles in her voice.
Still had his sisters.
That last one? That was the only one that mattered.
For now… it would have to be enough.
Kaito didn’t move for a long time
The twins were still pressed against him, their small bodies curled tight like they were trying to vanish into his ribs. Yuki’s breath tickled his shoulder. Yuna’s fingers twitched in her sleep, still tangled in the fabric of his shirt.
They hadn’t let go all night.
He didn’t blame them.
But now the quiet felt heavier. Still. Sharp. His mind had no more excuses. No more distractions. Just a simple, suffocating question:
What now?
He was Awakened. The system was active. The meat puppets worked. He had power. Potential. A reason to move. But no idea where to move to.
Four major powers ruled the region, and each one looked like a different kind of gallows.
The Holy Kingdom?
No chance. The moment someone whispered “corpsecraft,” they’d douse him in holy oil and set him on fire. Maybe let him confess first. Maybe not. Either way, he’d die screaming for a god he didn’t believe in.
The Daughters of Dust?
Tempting — if he only cared about the girls. They’d be elevated. Educated. Protected.
But him?
A man with a death-based system and no allegiance?
He’d be a resource at best. A warning at worst. Chained. Bled. Used.
The Empire.
Where he was now. The laws didn’t ban crafting, not openly. But DeathCraft wasn’t relic-based. It wasn’t enchanting. It was him turning corpses into weapons — sentient, snarling ones. The kind of power that made generals nervous.
He could enlist. Trade service for protection. Use his instincts to rise in rank, earn favor. The girls would be safe. Clothed. Housed.
But it also meant going to war. Killing strangers for a banner that never fed him.
He hadn’t done that before. And he wasn’t planning to start now.
And the last time power touched his life, it buried his family in fire and framed him for the smoke.
The Freehold.
Neutral. Non-religious. Talent-focused. No draft. No doctrines. No flags.
It was the only place that made sense. The only one he actually liked.
Perfect.
Except it was weeks away. No transport. No supplies. Two children. A barn full of rot and ghosts.
They’d die before they reached the second water marker.
He sighed through his teeth.
Four doors. All burning.
[LILITH: Orrrr~☆ Hear me out, bone boy~☆]
“…No.”
[LILITH: Murder for money! Bounties! You get coin, I get corpses, the kids get crackers~☆ It’s practically charity work!☆]
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
He closed his eyes.
She was actually right. It was their best shot—clean up the local scum, collect the gold, and use it to buy supplies, hire protection, or secure a place in a passing trade caravan heading toward the Freehold.
He cracked a faint smile. "You're actually smart," he muttered. "I thought you were just some psycho system that enjoys watching me murder stuff."
[LILITH: Awww~☆ I can be both~☆]
Kaito had no intention of leaving during the day. The twins were still shaken, and his body—though rested—still hadn’t shaken off the edge of starvation. He used the daylight hours to make the barn less of a deathtrap. Cleared the rotted straw. Boarded a hole in the wall with salvaged wood. Swept the corners and organized what little food they had left.
Yuki helped him sort dried roots and old canned goods. Yuna handed him nails without being asked. Neither spoke much, but they hovered close—like staying near him made the world quieter.
When the sun started to dip, Kaito stepped outside alone. He crouched in the dust near the barn, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Earlier that afternoon, once the girls were distracted, Kaito had quietly summoned one of the Grinwalkers and given it a simple command: "Scout west. Anything breathing, show me." It had crawled off without a sound. Now, with the sun slipping beneath the horizon, it had returned.
The thing crouched a few meters away, twitching in place, its grin stretched wider than before. It hadn’t spoken—just projected what it saw directly into his mind.
Cracked stone walls. A flickering fire. Four men. One asleep. One standing watch. Two more arguing over loot. Loud. Careless. Bandits.
The vision lingered just long enough to catch a flash of something nailed to a post behind them—paper, curling at the edges. A bounty notice. Not readable, but familiar in shape and placement.
That was enough.
Distance: about a kilometer out—far enough to stay hidden, close enough to walk back before dawn.
Kaito exhaled. The numbers worked.
Four bodies meant a full restock—flesh, bone, fragments. Maybe even a decent hit of trauma residue if the kills were close and messy. Enough to buy supplies. Enough to cash in the bounty, maybe hitch a ride. And whatever stolen junk those bastards had lying around—he’d keep that too. Enough to get the girls through another week.
He stood, dusted himself off.
No armor. No backup.
He needed a knife, a rope, and a reason.
[LILITH: Ohhh~☆ Are we finally going shopping? Or stabbing? Wait—shopping for stabbing!☆]
“Just tracking garbage,” Kaito muttered, strapping the bone knife to his thigh. “Try not to make it weird.”
[LILITH: Too late~☆ But okay~☆ Let’s go break something useful~☆]
He turned back toward the barn one last time, pausing in the doorway. The girls had stirred. Yuki was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Yuna blinked sleepily from beneath the blanket.
“Nii-san?” Yuki whispered.
“Still here,” he said softly. “Just going to check something outside.”
Yuna frowned. “It’s dark.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going now.”
They didn’t argue, but their faces said enough.
He crouched by the bedroll and tugged the blanket up around them again.
“I’ll be back before sunrise. Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone unless it’s me.”
Yuki nodded slowly. Yuna reached out and caught his wrist.
“Promise?”
Kaito held her gaze.
“Always.”
Quiet Steps and Target Practice
The desert wind was still when Kaito moved.
No sound but the crunch of dry sand beneath his boots and the faint rustle of cloth. The night wrapped around him like a second cloak, and he didn’t bother masking his intent.
He wasn’t hiding.
He was hunting.
The Grinwalker slithered ahead in the dark, keeping low, its grin barely visible under the moonlight. It didn’t speak. It didn’t need to. It just knew. The tether between them tugged faintly, guiding Kaito over a broken ridge and down toward the crumbled remains of what used to be a farmhouse.
Ruins.
Kaito crouched low beside a collapsed fence post, eyes locked on the dim firelight flickering between gaps in the ruined walls. Four men. Just like the vision. Still there. Still loud.
One asleep. One pacing with a makeshift spear. Two more sitting near the fire, arguing over who got to “take the next shift.”
Idiots.
He scanned the area again—positions, shadows, escape routes. His hands moved without thought, pulling the Fleshtwine Rope from his belt, checking the tension. Then the Bone Knife—still sharp.
He let out a quiet breath. Not hesitation.
Just rhythm.
He moved.
The sentry was the first to go—dragged backward into the dark, rope around his throat, eyes wide, never even getting the spear up.
Kaito didn’t wait. He crossed the yard in silence and knelt beside the sleeping one.
The Bone Knife slid in without resistance.
Two down.
The Grinwalker lunged as one of the last two stood to piss in the corner. The scream barely escaped. The Grinwalker’s jaws clamped down fast—bone and tendon tearing like wet paper.
Kaito met the eyes of the last one—a scarred man with a rusted axe and too many assumptions.
The bandit raised the weapon.
Kaito stepped in.
He didn’t dodge. He redirected. Steel glanced off his shoulder—enough to split skin and light up nerves. Then the knife found the soft spot between ribs.
Silence returned.
He stood there a moment, blood dripping, not from panic—just recalculation.
Four down. The whole thing had taken less than two minutes—fast, clean, quiet.
Just like that.
The Grinwalker circled back to him, twitching, blood-slick and eager. Still ready. Still waiting.
The Harvest
Kaito crouched beside the first corpse, wiping his blade clean on what was left of the man’s cloak. The Grinwalker skittered nearby, still twitching with leftover bloodlust, but it didn’t move in until he gave the signal.
He pressed his hand to the corpse’s chest. A deep, sick pull ran up his arm as the body began to collapse inward—skin wrinkling, bones caving, soul fragments tearing loose like smoke from a cracked jar. The DeathCraft system lit up behind his eyes.
[CORPSE CLASS: HUMAN (BANDIT)] [SOUL FRAGMENTS: +3] [TRAUMA RESIDUE: +1] [FLESH: +5] [BONE: +4]
[LILITH: Oooooh~☆ A fresh one! Nice symmetry in the spinal split—so efficient!~☆]
He ignored her and moved to the next.
[LILITH: I’m just saying, a little flair wouldn’t kill you. Well, them. But still~☆]
Second body. Soul fragment yield was the same, but more trauma.
[SOUL FRAGMENTS: +3] [TRAUMA RESIDUE: +2] [FLESH: +6] [BONE: +4]
By the fourth, Lilith was practically humming.
[LILITH: Ooooh! This one died scared. Look at that trauma spike~! That’s the good stuff, boss~☆]
Kaito rolled his shoulder once, checking the cut under his collar. Nothing serious. Already clotting.
He opened his inventory as the last body finished collapsing inward, hollowed and spent.
[SOUL FRAGMENTS: 12] [FLESH: 23] [BONE: 17] [TRAUMA RESIDUE: 6]
Not a bad haul.
Before leaving, he rifled through their scattered bags and crates—pouches of coin, worn tools, half-rotten rations, and a few usable supplies. Nothing rare, but worth keeping. He pocketed a pouch with 27 silver coins, a roll of half-used bandages, a flint striker, three dried meat packs, and a small rusted pendant shaped like a wolf’s head—possibly sentimental, definitely loot.
He dragged the bodies to a collapsed shed behind the ruin, covered them in scrap cloth and broken wood, then set the whole pile ablaze.
The fire crackled behind him as he walked away, cloak pulled tight.
He didn’t look back.
He had silver to claim, supplies to buy, and sisters to feed.
And soon, something new to craft.
Not Yet
The barn door creaked open just before sunrise.
Kaito stepped inside quietly, the cold still clinging to his clothes. The smell of ash clung to him, masked only faintly by the blood that had dried on his collar. He locked the door behind him with practiced ease.
The twins were already awake.
Yuki sat up immediately, eyes wide, blanket still clutched to her chest. Yuna rubbed at her eyes with one hand and held a kitchen knife with the other.
“I told you I’d come back,” Kaito said simply.
“You smell like blood,” Yuki said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “But none of it’s mine.”
That wasn’t entirely true. But close enough.
He walked over, crouched beside them, and handed over a small cloth pouch.
“Dried meat. Half a dozen strips. Not great, but it’s food.”
Yuna took it without a word.
Kaito reached into his coat and pulled out the flint striker, laying it beside the cookpot.
“We’ve got silver now. Enough for water, tools. Maybe a ride, if we play it right.”
Yuki didn’t ask where it came from.
She didn’t have to.
He tapped her hand gently, then pointed at the door.
“Stay inside. Lock it. I’ll be sleeping most of the day. If someone knocks, don’t answer. If it’s me, I’ll say the word.”
“What word?”
“Soup,” he muttered.
That got the faintest smile.
He stood, his body sore but light.
And for the first time since everything had gone to hell, the barn didn’t feel like a coffin.
Not safety. Not yet. But it was better than before.
First things first.
[STATUS: Kaito Tenshin]
Class: Death Crafter
Level: 1
Attributes:
STR: 12 → -30% = 8.4
AGI: 13 → -30% = 9.1
END: 11 → -30% = 7.7
PER: 10
INT: 9
WIL: 12
Negative Status:
Malnourished (All physical stats reduced by 30%)
Inventory:
Flesh: 60 units
Bones: 42 units
Soul Fragments: 27 units
Trauma Residue: 11 units
Minions:
Grinwalker ×4
