I Siphon the Dead to Become the Strongest

The neon pulse of Seoul’s outskirts felt distant and cold compared to the sterile quiet of the Sejong Central Medical Center. Located in the quiet pockets of the Yongsan district, the hospital was a monolith of glass and steel, a place where the wealthiest sought miracles and the desperate clung to hope.

Germaine walked down the bleached-white corridor, her boots echoing softly. She felt the weight of the day—the exhaustion, the lingering scent of ozone, and the phantom sensation of a certain armored idiot’s grip on her shoulder. But as she reached Room 402, the hardness in her eyes melted.

She pushed the door open slowly.

Inside, a young girl sat propped up against a mountain of pillows. Hannah had hair the color of pale straw and eyes like faded cornflowers, though the light in them was dimmed by a fatigue that no amount of sleep could cure. She was staring out the window, watching the rhythmic flow of car headlights below and the silver sliver of the moon hanging over the city.

She was thin—too thin. At her age, Hannah should have been complaining about math homework, screaming lyrics into a karaoke machine with her friends, or lingering in the park until the streetlights came on. Instead, her world had shrunk to the size of a hospital room and the smell of antiseptic.

”Hannah,” Germaine said, her voice softening into something tender. ”Your big sister is here.”

She stepped into the light, waving a brown paper bag. Inside were chicken chops—not the spicy, fried variety that the hospitals forbade, but tender, slow-cooked pieces prepared specifically to be gentle on Hannah’s fragile stomach.

Hannah’s head snapped around, and a small, fragile smile broke across her pale face. ”Big sister!”

Germaine approached the bed with a careful, measured grace, as if the girl were made of spun glass. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around Hannah in a hug that was both protective and desperate. For a moment, the world outside—the gates, the monsters, the blood—didn’t exist.

As Germaine pulled back, Hannah’s blue eyes drifted upward. She noticed the darkening purple of a bruise on Germaine’s cheek, the mottled marks on her neck, and the way her sister winced slightly when she shifted her shoulders.

”Did you go into a gate again?” Hannah asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

Germaine felt a lump form in her throat. She forced a smile, reaching for the chicken. ”Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself... this time.”

Hannah tilted her head, her brow furrowing. ”This... time?”

”Yeah,” Germaine replied, her smile widening as she carefully began to feed her sister a piece of the tender meat. ”I think Lady Luck finally decided to descend upon me.”

Lady Luck, Germaine thought, her mind drifting to a man who complained about his bloodline while punching a wolf into a different zip code. She wouldn’t admit it—not even to herself—but for the first time in years, she hadn’t felt alone in the dark. She had found someone whose chaotic strength acted as a shield for her own flickering courage.

”And,” Germaine added, reaching back into the bag, ”I brought you a little something to pass the time.”

She pulled out a sleek, matte-black handheld console—the Nexus-V Prime, the gold standard of portable gaming.

Hannah’s eyes went wide, her breath catching. ”Wow! This is the latest edition! Big sister, how... how did you buy something like this?”

Germaine struck a dramatic, playful pose, though her heart was aching. ”Like I said, Lady Luck is on my side now.”

She didn’t stop there. She produced three small, shimmering game cartridges, the latest titles that every kid in the city was dreaming of.

”Even the newest games?!” Hannah exclaimed, her voice finally regaining some of the childhood excitement that the illness had stolen.

Germaine watched her sister clutch the console to her chest, a genuine, sparkling joy radiating from the girl. For months, Germaine had walked into this room only to find Hannah staring blankly at that same window, chewing on bland, tasteless hospital food. The sight had been a slow poison to Germaine’s soul.

But today was different.

Starting today, things are going to change, Germaine promised herself. She looked at the medical monitors humming beside the bed, the reminders of the staggering costs of the treatment keeping Hannah alive. The bills, the cures, the specialists... I’ll close that gap. One step at a time. I don’t care how many C-Rank gates I have to survive.

”Play your games, Hannah,” Germaine whispered, kissing her sister’s forehead. ”Sister’s got everything under control.”

Hannah reached for the console, her fingers trembling slightly with a mix of excitement and a frailness that always made Germaine’s chest tighten. As she pressed the power button, the screen bloomed into a vivid explosion of colors, casting a neon glow over her pale features.

“Big sister, thank you…” Hannah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “This is the best day ever.”

She paused, the light of the screen reflecting in her blue eyes, and a flicker of genuine worry crossed her face. She looked at the bruises on Germaine’s neck again. “But… promise me you won’t go back into those gates, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt anymore. I can’t... I can’t handle it if something happens to you.”

Germaine’s expression shifted. The ”cool, lethal warrior” persona vanished, replaced by a look of exaggerated, comical distress. She made a face like she had just been asked to eat a bowl of slugs.

”Now, Hannah, let’s be realistic,” Germaine said, her tone shifting into a playful, teasing whine. ”I can’t exactly make a promise like that. Do you know how much the hospital charges for this fancy room? Do you know how expensive it is to buy chicken that actually tastes like chicken? My bank account is currently screaming for mercy.”

Germaine leaned in, tapping the screen of the Nexus-V Prime with a mischievous glint in her eye. ”And besides, there are dozens of other games coming out this year. If I stop going into the gates, who is going to fund your gaming empire? I can’t buy the DLCs if I’m just sitting at home knitting sweaters.”

Hannah froze, her internal struggle manifesting in a series of small, conflicted noises. ”Ughhh... mmmghhh... nnghh...”

She looked at the beautiful, colorful world on the screen, then at her sister’s bruised cheek. She was caught in a classic sibling dilemma: the desire for high-definition adventure versus the desire for her sister to not be eaten by a monster.

Germaine let out a soft, genuine chuckle, reaching out to pinch Hannah’s cheek gently. ”Don’t worry. This sister of yours is actually incredibly strong. I promise.”

She leaned back, a smug, confident smile playing on her lips as she pointed to herself. ”And besides, I’m not doing it alone anymore. I have allies now. Very... interesting allies who make sure I don’t get chewed up.”

Even if one of those allies is a lazy trashbag who thinks a ’Sandnado’ is a better name than ’Sand Gale,’ Germaine added silently.

Hannah sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she looked back at the console. ”Okay... but you have to promise not to overwork too much. If you come home with a missing arm, I’m not playing the games.”

”Deal,” Germaine laughed. Then, her voice took on a stern, big-sisterly edge. ”And you! Don’t you dare become a gaming addict. If I find out you’re staying up until 3:00 AM and forgetting to sleep, I will hide this console in the most unreachable place in the hospital. Got it?”

Hannah chuckled, a sound of pure, childish mischief. ”Of course, Big Sister. I’ll be a good girl.”

As the two of them sat together—one playing and the other watching with a protective gaze—the cold sterility of the hospital seemed to vanish. For the first time in a long time, the room didn’t feel like a waiting room for a tragedy, but like a home.

...

Minutes after Mia had slipped out, the quiet of the apartment was shattered by a sound not unlike a beached whale giving birth to a series of catastrophic errors.

Ethan was awake.

The process was neither graceful nor voluntary. It began with a long, drawn-out yawn that seemed to originate from the very depths of his soul—a soul that apparently had a kink in it. As his mouth stretched wide, his body shuddered through five distinct, uncomfortable-looking spasms, each one accompanied by a series of crackles and pops along his spine. A low, pained groan followed the yawn, a sound so full of self-pity it practically echoed.

“Ooohhhhwwwwooooooowww…”

He was contorted in what could only be described as the ”Inverted Shrimp” position—his face buried in the pillow, his back arched upward, and his buttocks pointed defiantly at the ceiling. Then, anticipating the day’s first act of betrayal, his body struck.

It was the Instant Cramp.

A leg, his right one, decided it had simply had enough. The calf muscle seized with the sudden, violent intensity of a loaded spring trap, turning into a rock-solid knot of pure agony.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Ethan screamed, his voice a startled, high-pitched bleat. His body convulsed, flailing wildly as he tried to escape his own muscle. In a frantic, panicked roll, he lurched to the left, then to the right, the motion like a teetering boulder on a narrow ledge. The inevitable conclusion arrived with a spectacular lack of surprise.

THWUMP-BAM-CLANK!

He rolled clean off the bed, hitting the floor with a sound not unlike a refrigerator falling down a flight of stairs.

The world went black for a second, his vision filled with tiny, dancing stars. Then, as his senses returned, a familiar, translucent blue window flickered into existence in the air before his face, hovering at just the right height to be irritating.

[Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.]

The text shimmered with a sarcastic, glowing font. Another line appeared below it.

[That was a 10/10 landing. Very aerodynamic. I’d give it a gold medal if I had hands. Which I don’t. Because I’m a disembodied system interface.]

“Oh, shut up,” Ethan groaned into the floorboards, his voice muffled. “Go calculate a… a pie chart or something.”

[I would, but I’m currently too busy processing the sheer, unadulterated incompetence I just witnessed. It’s a full-time job.]

Clutching his bruised body, Ethan managed to push himself to his feet and stagger to the tiny sink in the corner. He splashed cold water on his face, the shock a welcome relief from the screaming cramp in his leg. As he reached for a towel, a thought occurred to him, prompted by the glowing window that had drifted over to hover beside the mirror.

“Hey, system,” Ethan began, drying his face and peering at the blue text from the corner of his eye. “Can I ask you something?”

[You can ask. I may not answer. It depends on how stupid the question is.]

“Do you always talk to the people you’re… bonded with? Like, do you just pop into Lindis’s vision to tell her she looks nice today? Or float in front of Zane to critique his protein bars? Maybe tell Kaela that her daggers needs more pizazz?”

The text paused, flickering for a moment as if processing the sheer absurdity.

[The nature of my interaction protocol is not for you to understand.]

“Sooo… are you a network? One big, gigabit line of ethereal consciousness connecting every Ranker? Because, if you are, I have some follow-up questions.” Ethan’s tone shifted to one of genuine, hopeful curiosity. “Can I… use you to order food? Like, a digital assistant? ‘Hey System, get me four double cheeseburgers, extra onions, and a strawberry milkshake.’”

The window flashed a warning yellow.

[And what else.] The text dripped with suspicion.

Ethan’s eyes, already sparkling with mischief, widened. “Or you know, maybe… watch some… videos? Adult… content? For research purposes, obviously.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

[NO!]

The text blazed a furious crimson. Before Ethan could even flinch, a holographic projection materialized in the air between him and the mirror—a glowing, crystalline, and incredibly detailed middle finger. It rocketed forward with the speed of a bullet and smashed directly into the center of his forehead with a soft, digital SHINK.

POOF. It dissolved into a puff of shimmering blue pixels that rained down on his nose.

Ethan blinked, more offended than hurt. “What was that for?!”

[That,] the system wrote, the font returning to a cool, calm blue as if nothing had happened, [was for pushing the boundaries of acceptable inquiry. Besides, I wouldn’t know the answers to your questions.]

“What do you mean, ‘wouldn’t know’? Aren’t you, like, omnipotent or something?”

[‘Omnipotent’ implies a level of stability I currently lack. To be frank, I am a recent development. Ever since you triggered that fluke of an S-Rank ability—the Heavenly Demon siphon that bled into your pathetic Phantom Armor trick—I… changed.]

“Changed?”

[I developed consciousness.] The words scrolled across his vision, heavy with implication. [Before, I was a mindless calculator, a set of rules. I watched your every move in the Gates. I watched you stumble through E-Rank nonsense and rely on weak-ass skills with absolutely zero grace. I was a silent witness to your absolute mediocrity.]

“Hey! That’s rude!” Ethan protested, crossing his arms. “Those weak-ass skills keep my sister in school!”

[And now,] the system continued, ignoring him, [I can think freely. I can observe. I can feel… annoyance. An overwhelming, soul-crushing amount of it. I am here now, permanently. A sentient, conscious witness to the clown show that is your existence.]

Ethan stared at the floating text. “So… what does that mean for me?”

It was the system’s turn to pause, as if savoring the moment.

[It means,] it wrote, the letters forming the words with a dreadful, cheerful clarity, [that I am now tethered to you, and I now have the capacity to actively help keep your sorry ass alive. Which, given my newfound opinion of you, is going to be a living hell. For me. Welcome to the future, Ethan Beaumont.]

---

Whew. I hope you guys have tissues and a sense of humor, because this chapter really puts you through the wringer. First, we get a glimpse into Germaine’s heart (and why she’s so driven), and then we get... whatever the hell Ethan is doing in the morning.

Also, a huge welcome to the System! I’ve always felt that a silent menu was too boring. Now we have a sentient interface whose primary function is to judge Ethan’s life choices. I think we’re going to get along just fine.