Death System: I awakened SSS rank System-Chapter 70: New Edge

The Rift Hall had never felt this heavy before.

Players gathered in scattered clusters across the vast expanse, standing or sitting in uneven formations like fragments of something that had been forcefully broken apart and carelessly left behind.

The usual low hum of conversation that once filled the hall was completely absent, replaced instead by a thick, suffocating silence that pressed against the air and settled deeply into the bones of everyone present.

It wasn’t just quiet, it was the kind of silence that came after chaos, after loss, after the realization that things would never return to how they once were.

This was no longer a place of preparation. It had become a place of survival.

Zakar stood among the remaining players, his arms loosely folded across his chest as his sharp, observant gaze moved slowly across the hall. He wasn’t just looking, he was studying. Studying faces, expressions and postures. He took in every detail with the calm, calculated awareness of someone who had lived a life of reading danger before it revealed itself.

There were dozens of players. But far fewer than before. He noticed it instantly the empty spaces where entire teams should have been standing together, the absence of familiar faces that had once filled the hall with noise and confidence. Those gaps were more telling than any spoken words.

"...Too many are missing," a voice muttered somewhere within the crowd, low and uneasy, barely above a whisper but loud enough to ripple through nearby players.

"Yeah... our team had six members when we started. Now we’re barely three..." another added, his voice strained, as though he still couldn’t fully accept what had happened.

"They didn’t even die in front of us... they just disappeared..."

Zakar said nothing in response, but his eyes sharpened slightly. He understood at least better than most. This wasn’t random. This was selection.

Then the air shifted. It wasn’t visible, but it was felt. A subtle change in pressure, like the atmosphere itself tightening under an unseen force.

The murmurs died instantly.

Every head turned toward the front of the hall as three figures stepped forward with quiet authority, their presence alone enough to silence even the most restless of minds.

The Guides had arrived. Terry stood at the center, his posture straight and composed, his expression calm but unreadable as his eyes moved slowly across the gathered players.

There was no emotion in his gaze no sympathy, no concern only quiet observation, as though he were evaluating tools rather than people. To his right stood Lector, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the crowd with a precision that felt almost invasive, like he could see through them entirely. Beside them stood another Guide, silent and still, radiating the same quiet dominance that defined the others.

Zakar’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"They’re here..."

The hall fell completely silent. Not a single voice dared to rise. Terry stepped forward, his presence alone commanding full attention.

"Players."

His voice wasn’t loud but it carried audacity.

It spread across the entire hall effortlessly, reaching every individual without strain, as if the space itself bent to deliver his words exactly where they needed to go.

"You have completed the preliminary missions."

A brief pause followed. No one moved. No one spoke. Terry’s gaze swept slowly across the crowd, deliberate and controlled, as though he were measuring each person’s worth in that very moment.

"And as expected... many of you did not survive."

The words were delivered without hesitation.

No comfort.

No apology.

Just plain painful truth.

A ripple of tension moved through the hall, but it remained silent. Lector stepped forward slightly, his tone colder, sharper.

"To be precise... seventy teams have been annihilated." The impact was immediate. The number alone carried weight.

"Four hundred and thirty-five players are either dead... or missing."

Silence deepened.

Some players lowered their heads, unable to meet the reality of those numbers. Others clenched their fists tightly, anger and fear mixing in equal measure. A few simply stood still, their expressions hollow, as though they had already begun to detach themselves from everything around them.

Zakar didn’t move. But his mind registered it instantly.

"...So that’s the scale," he thought quietly, his gaze steady.

Terry continued, his voice unwavering.

"What remains... are those who have proven they can survive."

A faint pause followed.

"But survival... is only the beginning."

Zakar’s eyes sharpened slightly.

Then came the shift.

"Starting tomorrow," Terry said, "you will begin your true missions." A wave of unease passed through the crowd, subtle but undeniable.

"These missions will no longer be team-based." That statement hit harder than expected. Murmurs broke out immediately.

"Individually?!"

"That’s suicide—"

"We won’t last—"

Lector raised his hand slightly.

And just like that, silence returned. Absolute quietness.

"Your performance will now be evaluated through a point system," he said.

Zakar’s attention sharpened completely.

Points. So this was it.

The structure behind everything.

Terry continued, his tone steady and firm.

"The points you accumulate will determine your fate."He paused for a while scanning the ground and deliberately increasing the anxiety in the players.

"Players who fail to reach one thousand points..." His voice lowered just slightly.

"...will be sent to hell."

The reaction was immediate and explosive.

"What?!"

"That’s insane!"

"You’re sending us to hell over points?!"

But the Guides remained unmoved.

Unaffected.

Lector continued without hesitation.

"Those who reach seven thousand points... will be allowed to live."

A flicker of relief appeared. Only to be crushed instantly.

"But you will hold no position."

Silence followed again.

Living... but worthless. No rank. No power. No influence. Just existence.

Zakar’s lips curved faintly.

"...That’s a slow death," he thought.

Terry continued.

"Sixteen thousand points grants you entry into the Guides."

A few heads lifted.

Hope sparked.

"Thirty-eight thousand points earns you a place among the Generals."

Now the atmosphere changed. That was power. Real power.

Zakar’s focus deepened.

"Fifty thousand points grants you the right to become a Tailor."

The reaction was immediate.

Shock.

Whispers.

Fear.

Excitement.

Zakar’s heart gave a subtle, controlled beat.

Tailors?

His mind flashed instantly to Nero Void.

That overwhelming presence.

That terrifying difference in power.

"...Fifty thousand..."

Then—

"One hundred and ninety-eight thousand points..." Terry continued.

The entire hall held its breath.

"...grants you ascension to the rank of Masters."

Silence fell completely.

Even Zakar felt it. That number wasn’t just high. It was overwhelming. Almost unreachable. Almost.

Then— a slow smile formed on Zakar’s face.

"...Masters..."

For the first time, excitement stirred within him.

"That’s the peak..."

His fingers tightened slightly at his side.

"...then that’s where I’m going."

Sera glanced at him from the side.

"...You’re actually smiling."

Zakar didn’t turn.

"Of course."

Myia blinked, confused.

"After everything they just said?"

Zakar’s gaze remained forward.

"That just means there’s a system to climb."

A pause.

"And I intend to reach the top."

Sera smirked faintly.

"...Of course you do." Suddenly his smile faded slightly. Because his mind had already moved beyond excitement. Into calculations.

The Tailors. He had seen them. Faced them. Felt them. Their tremendous power and stance.

Nero Void.

Carene.

Kyara.

Kenry.

Each one different. Each one powerful.

But all of them above him.

Zakar’s expression hardened slightly.

"...I’m not there yet."

The realization was cold. Clear. Unavoidable.

’If someone like Nero appeared again.’

He exhaled slowly.

"...I’d lose."

But the excitement didn’t disappear. It sharpened and transformed into something far more dangerous.

Determination.

"...Then I’ll just get stronger."

His gaze lifted again, steady and unyielding.

Zakar stood still, but his resolve moved forward.

"...Let’s begin."