I don't even remember hitting the ground.One second, I'm up. The next, I'm tasting blood and concrete like it's some kind of messed-up sandwich.
My head's ringing. My ribs? Screaming. And that guy—yeah, the one built like a fridge—he's still coming at me like I just insulted his mother.
Debt System:-20 HP. You're running out, genius.
"Yeah, thanks for the encouragement," I mutter, dragging myself up.
He swings again. I dodge—barely. My shoulder still catches the edge of it, and I swear something cracks.
I've been in fights before. Stupid ones, dumb high school ones, "I-bumped-into-you-on-purpose" ones. But this? This isn't a fight. This is survival.
And every punch I throw back feels like it costs me more than it gives.Because the Debt System doesn't care if I live or die—it just wants me to owe.
So I let it happen.I let it burn.I let the power pull at me, twisting in my veins like some angry snake.
The next time he comes in swinging, I move faster than I should be able to. My hand wraps around his arm, and before I even think, I pull.
It's not strength—it's the System.And the System is hungry.
His knees hit the ground.His face follows.I'm standing there, breathing hard, shaking like my body's running on borrowed time.
Then I see it—just a quick flash in my peripheral.Someone's been watching.Not just anyone. One of them.
A Debt Collector.
They don't move closer. They just… smile. Like they know exactly what's coming next.