telinga bunyi dug dug

The System gave everyone a Class. It gave Rourke a shovel. When the sky cracked and the Towers rose, humanity Awakened into Heroes. Swordsmen, Saints, Beast-Lords. The strong climbed. The weak were sent in first to die, and the world called it necessary. At his Awakening, Rourke Vane drew the one Class the System refuses to rank: Gravekeeper. No combat. No stats. Just the dead that nobody else would touch. So he buried them. The abandoned. The fuel. The forgotten. [Eulogy accepted. Inheritance granted.] One rite, and a dead hero's skill became his own. One name in his Ledger, then ten, then a hundred. Every fallen soldier the great guilds left to rot now lives on in the boy they all laughed at. The heroes took the easy road and left their dead behind. Rourke is about to inherit every single one of them. But the dead remember how they died, and what they remember should not be possible. The Towers are not culling the weak by accident. Something is eating them. And the only witnesses left are buried in a graveyard tended by the weakest man alive. They mocked the Gravekeeper. Soon they will wish they had stayed dead. [Updates daily. Slow-burn romance, no harem. The dead do not stay quiet for long.]