The vibration in Ren's hand wasn't magic. It was the hum of raw, unbridled volatility.
The charred lump of wood drank his blood greedily. The black crust on its surface began to crack, revealing veins of blinding sapphire light beneath. The air on top of the trash mountain grew heavy, tasting of ozone and imminent disaster.
The three slaves hesitated. They were bottom-feeders, scavengers who preyed on the weak, but even animals knew when a storm was coming.
"What is that?" the leader of the trio snarled, his grip tightening on his rusted metal shank. "A Spirit Stone? Hand it over, kid! That's too much wealth for a corpse like you."
Ren looked down at the object in his hand.
[Item: Scorched Lightning Wood (Active)]
Status: Leaking Energy.
Current Charge: 100%
Warning: User is Mortal. Direct contact with the core will result in cardiac arrest.
Ren's mind raced. He was a forensic accountant, not a martial artist. He didn't know how to channel Qi. He didn't know how to circulate energy through meridians. If he tried to "absorb" this, he would explode.
But he understood one thing better than anyone in this tower: Liquidation.
If you have an asset you can't hold, you sell it. And if you can't sell it, you expend it.
"I told you," Ren said, his voice eerily calm despite the thumping of his heart. He raised the glowing wood, pointing the cracked end directly at the leader. "You can't afford this transaction."
"Get him!" the leader screamed, lunging forward with desperate greed.
Ren didn't dodge. He didn't have the muscles for it. instead, he mentally shoved his will into the wood, visualizing a bank transfer. Dump the excess capital. Now!
[System Alert: Initiating Partial Discharge.] [Cost: 500 Karma worth of Energy.]
CRACK!
There was no buildup. No chanting. Just the deafening sound of the air being torn apart.
A jagged arc of blue-white lightning erupted from the wood. It didn't move like a fire ball; it moved at the speed of light. It struck the leader in the chest before his foot even touched the ground.
There was no scream. The man's body went rigid, illuminated from the inside out like a paper lantern, before being blasted backward into his two companions.
BOOM!
The force of the thunderclap knocked Ren onto his back. Dirt and trash rained down around him.
Silence returned to Sector 4.
Ren gasped for air, his ears ringing. He pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at the scene before him.
The leader was... gone. Or rather, what was left of him was a smoking, blackened husk lying ten meters away. The other two slaves were groaning on the ground, twitching as residual static electricity danced over their bodies. They were unconscious, likely with severe nerve damage.
Ren looked at the wood in his hand. The glow had dimmed slightly, but it was still pulsing.
[Item: Scorched Lightning Wood]
Remaining Value: 9,500 Karma.
Note: Value depreciated due to expenditure.
"Five hundred Karma for a single shot," Ren muttered, dusting himself off. "Expensive ammo. But effective."
He stood up, his legs shaking. The reality of what he just done hit him. He had killed a man. On Earth, this would mean prison, trials, media circuses.
Here?
[System Notice: Hostile Assets Liquidated.] [Karma Gained: 0.] [Note: Targets had no net worth. No loot generated.]
The System didn't care. To the Grand Ledger, he hadn't committed murder; he had simply balanced an equation.
Ren walked over to the charred body of the leader. He wasn't being morbid; he was being thorough. He kicked the shank away and checked the body for anything of value.
Nothing. Just rags and lice.
He checked the two unconscious men. One had a small pouch hidden in his belt. Ren took it. Inside was a single, chipped coin.
[Low-Grade Iron Coin]
Value: 0.2 Karma.
Ren pocketed it without a second thought. "0.2 is better than 0."
He looked at the unconscious men. He raised the wood again. A cold pragmatism washed over him. If they woke up, they would tell others. They would tell the Overseer that Ren had a treasure.
In the business world, leaving loose ends was negligence. In the cultivation world, it was suicide.
But before he could finish the job, a siren wailed across the sector.
WOOOP— WOOOP—
"SHIFT ENDED. ALL DEBTORS REPORT TO THE WEIGHING STATION. FAILURE TO REPORT WILL RESULT IN FINES."
Ren lowered the wood. He didn't have time to finish them off. He had to hide this thing immediately. If he walked into the weighing station holding a glowing lightning branch, the Overseer would confiscate it and probably execute him for 'stealing company property.'
He looked around frantically. He needed a container. Something that could insulate the energy.
His eyes landed on the leader's boots. They were thick, rubber-soled work boots scavenged from who-knows-where. Rubber insulated electricity.
Ren grimaced. He quickly stripped the boots off the corpse. He wrapped the Lightning Wood in the thick, grimy rubber, then wrapped that bundle in a piece of lead-lined canvas he ripped from a trash pile.
He shoved the heavy bundle into his shirt, pressing it against his stomach. It looked like a tumor, but the lead and rubber masked the glow.
He grabbed a handful of random scrap metal—copper wires, rusted bolts—and threw them into his collection basket to make it look like he had actually been working.
"Time to audit the books," Ren whispered.
The Weighing Station was a chaotic choke point of misery. Hundreds of slaves lined up, dumping their baskets of scrap onto a massive scale.
Overseer Ma sat behind a desk, a heavy iron abacus in front of him. Behind him stood two guards with crossbows.
"Next!" Ma barked.
A thin old man dumped his basket.
Ma flicked a bead on the abacus. "Twelve pounds of ferrous scrap. Value: 1.5 Karma. Daily Interest on your debt is 2 Karma. You are short 0.5. No food for you tonight. Next!"
The old man wept, dragging himself away.
Ren stood in line, his heart pounding against the hidden bundle in his shirt. He watched the transactions. It was a rigged game. The "Interest" rates were predatory. The value of the scrap was arbitrarily set by the Overseer.
It was a monopoly. And Ren hated monopolies he didn't own.
Finally, it was his turn.
Ren stepped up. He dumped his meager pile of copper wire and bolts onto the scale.
Overseer Ma looked at the pile, then up at Ren. He sneered. "Well, well. The sleeper awakes. Let's see what trash you found."
Ma poked the pile with a metal rod. "Garbage. Rusted. Useless." He flicked a bead. "Total value: 0.8 Karma."
Ren's hands clenched. 0.8 Karma? The copper alone was worth at least 3 based on market rates he had seen in his memories. Ma was skimming off the top.
"Daily Debt Interest: 3 Karma," Ma announced, looking bored. "You are short 2.2 Karma. That's a strike, Ren. Three strikes and you go to the bio-refinery."
Ma reached for a stamp to mark Ren's record.
"Wait," Ren said.
The line went silent. Slaves didn't speak back to Overseers.
Ma paused, his eyes narrowing. "You have something to say, trash?"
Ren's mind was calculating rapidly. He couldn't sell the Lightning Wood here. Ma would just steal it. He needed to buy time. He needed to access the Trade Market.
But mortals weren't allowed to trade. Only those who had paid off their initial 'Birth Debt' could access the market interface.
He needed to pay the interest. Now.
"I have a query regarding the valuation," Ren said, his voice steady. He tapped his left eye.
[Target: Overseer Ma's Abacus]
Object: Spirit-Iron Calculator.
Flaw: The third bead is weighted. It under-reports weight by 20%.
"Your scale," Ren said loudly, ensuring the guards and the other slaves heard him. "It's uncalibrated."
Ma's face went red. "What did you say?"
"I said, you're cooking the books," Ren stated calmly. "The third bead on your abacus is weighted. You've been skimming 20% off every slave's quota for the last... three years?"
The guards shifted uncomfortably. Skimming from slaves was fine. Skimming from the Sect above them? That was treason.
Ma stood up, his hand going to his whip. "You dare accuse me? I'll flay the skin off your—"
"If you strike me," Ren interrupted, locking eyes with the large man, "You prove I'm right. And when the auditors from the Upper Sector come down to collect the monthly quota, I wonder if they'll find the discrepancy?"
It was a bluff. A massive, dangerous bluff. Ren didn't know if auditors actually came down. He was banking on the universal constant of bureaucracy: Everyone is afraid of the tax man.
Ma froze. Fear flickered in his eyes. Not fear of Ren, but fear of his superiors.
The Overseer slowly sat back down. The silence was suffocating.
"Fine," Ma hissed, his voice low. "Maybe the scale is... old. I will adjust for the error."
He flicked two more beads. "Value revised. 3.0 Karma. Debt interest paid."
He scribbled on a piece of paper and threw it at Ren.
"Get out of my sight," Ma whispered, his eyes promising murder. "But watch your back in the barracks tonight, boy. Accidents happen in the dark."
Ren took the receipt.
[System Alert: Daily Interest Paid.] [Time until Liquidation: 23 Hours, 15 Minutes.]
He had bought himself one more day.
Ren turned and walked away, feeling the burning stare of the Overseer on his back. He knew he had just painted a target on his head. Ma would send killers tonight.
Ren clutched the hidden bundle in his shirt.
Good, he thought. Let them come. I need test subjects for my new asset.