Night passed like a wound that refused to close.
Ryu hadn't slept. He didn't dare. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Daemon. Not the father he once imagined—warm, protective, brave—but a phantom in silver-black armour, smiling at him like a butcher does a calf.
When morning broke, dull and grey through hospital glass, Ryu was already dressed and leaning against the window, one eye on the city below. The pulse of Soul Attraction glowed faintly on his palm—Miyuki's essence a whisper in the storm.
"Hang in there, Mom," he said softly, brushing a hand over her forehead. "I have some people to disappoint."
One Hour Later—Hunter Registration Bureau
The lobby smelt like old paper, bitter coffee, and crushed dreams.
Ryu stood at the front desk, arms crossed. Behind him, three of the largest guild leaders in the city sat in progressively more expensive suits and increasingly desperate expressions.
The receptionist—who looked like she had seen one too many "Chosen One" declarations for one lifetime—sighed. "You're Ryu, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Guild affiliation is mandatory. You've already refused three."
Ryu glanced back. "Correct."
The man from Crimson Fang leaned forward, thumping a muscle-thick arm on the counter. "Kid. Join us. We've got a custom S-tier black blacksteel katana, full benefits, and a complimentary rage therapist."
Ryu blinked. "A what?"
"Rage therapist. Comes with punching bags that scream like dungeon monsters. Real cathartic."
The woman from Gilded Eclipse stood up, brushing her designer combat cloak dramatically. "Ignore him. We're the richest guild on the continent. We'll let you name your own division. 'Chains of Vengeance,' perhaps? Very edgy."
"Tempting," Ryu muttered.
Then the third one—an older, gnarled man with glowing tattoos from the Order of Veiled Truth—steepled his fingers ominously. "Join us… or be hunted as a rogue."
"Oh no," Ryu said, deadpan. "Anyway."
The receptionist looked like she was two seconds from chucking her clipboard through a window. "You have to pick one, Mr. Ryu. The system flagged you as Soul-Bound Tier. Independent movement without guild backing is a security risk."
"I'm not a risk," Ryu said. "I'm the consequence."
"Sir, please don't say things like that aloud."
Just then—
BOOM.
The double doors to the bureau exploded open as a gust of wind blew in a young man dressed in what looked like a billion-dollar casual disaster.
White fur-lined coat. Gold-trimmed boots. Red designer shades. And a diamond earring shaped like a pixelated sword.
"Is this where we recruit the Godkiller?" The man shouted, striking a pose.
Everyone turned.
Ryu squinted. "What the hell are you?"
The man pointed dramatically. "I… am Leo Gravemarch! Son of Gravemarch Industries! Tech heir! Dungeon streamer! Owner of twelve mansions and a pet mimic named Charles!"
The receptionist facepalmed. "Oh gods, no. Not him again."
Leo strutted up to Ryu, spinning once for dramatic effect. "You. Me. Guild. We start one. Together. From scratch. I bring the money. You bring the angst."
"...The what?"
Leo clapped a hand on Ryu's shoulder, eyes shining. "Look at you. Tragic backstory. Daddy issues. Hair that looks like it's always wet from battle sweat. You're a brand waiting to happen."
"I'm a hunter, not a model."
"Exactly. That's the angle. I already have a guild name—wait for it—'Death Tax.' Because we collect souls and revenue!"
"...That's actually kind of clever," Ryu admitted before catching himself. "Wait, no. What? No."
Leo whipped out a neon pink tablet and started scribbling ideas. "You'll be the poster boy. I'll handle logistics. Uniforms? Tailored black coats with soul-thread stitching. Weapons? Customised to your trauma profile."
"I don't have a trauma profile," Ryu said.
"You do now. I made one."
The Gilded Eclipse rep stood, insulted. "This is absurd. That boy is not qualified—"
"I graduated from Soulmark Academy with a 4.9 GPA and a minor in celestial economics," Leo interrupted. "Also, I once dated a half-angel. Does that qualify me?"
"No."
"Whatever. I bought a war beast on the way here."
The receptionist groaned. "You brought another one?"
"Relax, it's parked legally. Ish."
Ryu stared at the chaos, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should have been furious.
But somehow… this was the first time he didn't feel like screaming.
"Alright," Ryu said. "Let's say—hypothetically—I humour you. You're rich. You're weird. You want to start a guild with me, someone who's literally flagged for divine aggression. Why?"
Leo leaned in, surprisingly serious now. "Because I know the look in your eyes, man. That 'I'm going to climb into heaven just to punch a god' look. Everyone else wants to use you. I just want front-row seats."
Ryu blinked. "...You're honest. I'll give you that."
"Also, I think you're cool, and I have no actual combat skills. So I need someone to keep me alive while I livestream."
"Right. There it is."
[System Notification: Unauthorised Guild Creation Request]
Name: Death Tax
Founder: Ryu [Soul-Bound—Class: Godkiller of Chains]
Commander: Leo Gravemarch
Status: Pending Official Sanction
Warning: Guild must clear a Tier-4 dungeon within 7 days to retain legitimacy.
"Oh look, a quest," Leo said cheerfully. "Aren't those your favourites?"
Ryu looked at the screen, then at the trio of fuming guild commanders who had just lost their prize asset to a walking fashion disaster with Daddy's credit line.
He cracked the smallest grin.
"For once," Ryu said, "this might actually be fun."
Later That Day—Abandoned Church Turned Guild HQ
The building creaked as wind whistled through broken stained glass. The old altar had been replaced by crates of gear Leo had drone-delivered within the hour. Ryu sat on a pew, examining the customised longsword Leo insisted came with "soul-syncing kinetic feedback."
"What does that mean?" Ryu asked,"
Leo peered up from his glowing workstation. "I have no idea. The box just said it makes you feel like a 'legend in your own tragedy.' So I bought two."
"You're a menace."
"Thank you."
There was silence for a bit, broken only by the soft hum of warding runes Leo accidentally triggered when trying to install surround sound.
Then Ryu asked, quietly, "You're not afraid of me?"
Leo paused, looking up. "I mean, yes. Obviously. You literally scream 'tragic antihero with potential for mass destruction.' But I also think… Maybe you just need someone to be stupid enough to stick around anyway."
Ryu chuckled. "You got the stupid part right."
"I know. My therapist says it's part of my charm."
[Guild Quest Updated: Tier-4 Dungeon Assigned]
Location: The Forsaken Choir Crypt
Threat Level: Moderate to High
Completion Deadline: 7 Days
Team Composition: Minimum 2 Members
Ryu stood, sword in hand.
"Looks like we've got a dungeon to clear."
Leo pulled out a wand that looked like it came from a candy store. "And I brought snacks!"
"We're going to die."
"Statistically likely!"
And so, the death tax was born.
One god-tier hunter with a score to settle.
One rich idiot with too much enthusiasm and way too much money.
And the rest?
Well, that was a story still being written—with blood, sarcasm, and the occasional divine lawsuit.