The city of Lous never slept—mostly because nobody could afford to.
Merchants haggled through the night, tax collectors prowled the alleys like wolves, and golden banners bearing the crest of the Treasury fluttered above every street: "Every Debt a Duty, Every Duty Paid."
Kai leaned against the creaky balcony of their rented room, watching the glow of commerce stretch endlessly below. "You ever notice," he muttered, "this place looks like it's made entirely out of receipts?"
"That's because it is," Mira replied, stepping beside him. Her cloak was off, hair tied back, exhaustion shadowing her eyes. "The royal mint runs on binding magic. Every transaction leaves a record—an echo of energy. The city's basically one big ledger."
Kai squinted down at the gold-lit streets. "So if we mess with that ledger—"
"—the whole economy collapses," Mira finished. "Which is why we're not doing that."
"Right," Kai said, pretending to think. "We're technically not doing that."
Nyla groaned from inside, surrounded by scrolls and maps. "You're not helping. I've spent the last six hours decoding Treasury blueprints and there's literally a hallway labeled 'Auditor's Nightmare.' I'm starting to believe it's cursed."
"It probably is," Mira said flatly. "Everything here is."
Kai turned from the balcony. "So what's the plan, then? We walk in, steal some sacred tax documents, overthrow the Debt King, and make it home in time for discount noodles?"
"That's… basically the plan," Nyla said. "Except with forty-seven magical locks, two guardian constructs, a curse that turns liars into copper statues, and a security vault powered by actual souls."
Kai blinked. "So… easy mode."
Mira rolled her eyes. "We can't brute-force this one. We'll need to hit them during the annual Dividend Audit. Half the guards will be busy at the city square."
"When's that?"
"Tomorrow night."
Kai grinned. "Good. Gives me time to stretch my moral flexibility."
That night, the trio gathered around a flickering lamp. The air smelled of ink and burned parchment. Nyla was hunched over her notebook, muttering formulas while Mira drew sigils on the table.
Kai tried to follow, but his attention kept drifting back to the glowing mark on his hand. The Debt Seal pulsed faintly, syncing with his heartbeat.
Every now and then, whispers crept through the back of his mind: Owed. Due. Interest rising.
He flexed his fingers, exhaling. "Hey, Mira?"
She didn't look up. "Hmm?"
"Does it bother you that my power literally runs on debt? Like, I get stronger the poorer I get?"
Mira's chalk stopped mid-stroke. "Bother me? No. Terrify me? Absolutely."
Nyla looked up. "You've always used it responsibly, Kai. Mostly."
"Mostly," Mira echoed dryly. "Remember the dungeon rent incident?"
"I told you, that was a business expense!"
"You summoned a debt spirit to cover a tab at a tavern!"
"And it worked!"
Mira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Barely. The bartender's still haunted by invoices."
Despite the grim setting, the laughter came easily. Maybe too easily. It was the kind of laughter people used to keep fear at bay.
By dawn, their plan was ready.
Kai strapped on his jacket, the one patched with more receipts than cloth. Nyla carried an enchanted ledger disguised as a spellbook, and Mira wore her ceremonial gloves—the ones she used to rewrite magical contracts on the fly.
"Everyone ready?" Kai asked.
Mira smirked. "Define 'ready.'"
"Ready to risk our lives for morally questionable reasons."
"Then yes," she said, "absolutely."
They left the inn as the city stirred awake, blending into the morning chaos. Vendors shouted, carts rattled, coins clinked—the whole world moving to the rhythm of commerce.
The Treasury loomed in the distance: a colossal structure shaped like a golden pyramid crossed with a courthouse. Its doors were slabs of diamond-etched marble engraved with one word: EQUITY.
"Okay," Nyla whispered. "This is where subtlety matters."
"Subtlety's my middle name," Kai said confidently, before tripping over a loose cobblestone.
"Right," Mira sighed. "Of course it is."
They slipped into the lower district through the maintenance tunnels. The air smelled like dust and ozone. Old coins littered the ground—relics of debts long forgotten.
Mira lit a faint glow with her staff. "This place used to store cancelled contracts. They say if you listen long enough, you can still hear the echoes of people who paid too late."
"Comforting," Kai muttered.
As they crept deeper, a faint hum filled the air. Golden runes pulsed along the tunnel walls, leading toward a massive gate—the entrance to the Treasury's secondary vault.
Nyla crouched beside a control panel, fingers flying across runic inscriptions. "It's a double-layered security field. If I disable the wrong one, we trigger the audit curse."
"What happens then?" Kai asked.
"Everyone in a ten-mile radius gets their assets reviewed."
"…so basically, mass bankruptcy."
"Exactly."
"Cool," Kai said. "No pressure."
Mira frowned. "Wait. Someone's coming."
They froze.
Footsteps echoed down the tunnel—slow, deliberate, metallic.
A shadow stretched along the wall, followed by a figure in a gilded mask carrying a staff made entirely of stacked coins.
Kai's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell—?"
The figure stopped before them.
"By order of the Debt King," the voice said, calm and resonant, "unauthorized audits are strictly prohibited."
Mira's hand drifted toward her weapon. "We're not here for an audit."
The figure tilted its head. "Then you are thieves. And thieves must pay the price."
Kai sighed. "Guess it's time to make another withdrawal."
The corridor flared gold as the masked figure's staff struck the ground. The coins that formed it shimmered, and chains of glowing debt slips materialized, spiraling outward like serpents of light.
Kai's instincts kicked in. "Nyla—now would be a great time for that security bypass!"
"I can't while he's channeling!" she shouted, her fingers flying over runic locks. "His staff's interfacing with the same circuit!"
Mira spun her staff and slammed it against the marble floor. "Contract Nullify: Partial Override!" A pulse of teal light washed out, weakening the magic in the air—but not breaking it.
The enforcer didn't even flinch. "You trespass within the Treasury's sanctum. The King's debts are divine. To defy them is to defy balance itself."
"Yeah, I'm not a big fan of balance," Kai said, stepping forward. "It implies I'm losing."
He clenched his fist, and the Debt Seal on his hand burned bright crimson. The air rippled, and a swirl of ethereal receipts burst into existence around him, fluttering like ash in a breeze.
Mira hissed, "Kai—don't! Every time you tap the seal, it costs you—"
"I'll expense it later!"
The ground cracked as Kai dashed forward, his footwork sloppy but powerful. He threw a punch that ignited with spiritual energy—his debt-based magic turning into raw kinetic force. The enforcer parried easily with his coin staff, the clash sending a ring of metallic sound through the tunnels.
"Your power reeks of imbalance," the enforcer said, driving Kai back. "You borrow strength from suffering. From loss. You're not a hero. You're an accountant of chaos."
"Funny," Kai grunted, skidding across the floor, "because you sound like my landlord."
Mira and Nyla scrambled to flank the fight. The glow from the runes intensified—Nyla's bypass nearing completion.
"Almost there!" she called. "Just keep him busy for twenty seconds!"
Kai ducked under a chain of luminous paper, letting it slice a few strands of his hair. He countered with a kick that broke the enforcer's stance, forcing the masked figure a step back.
But then—the enforcer raised his free hand. The air shimmered, and a spectral ledger appeared before him, pages flipping open to reveal a single glowing line.
Name: Kai Evernight. Debt Value: Undefined. Status: Compounding.
The enforcer's mask tilted slightly. "Undefined debt? Impossible. Even sinners have limits."
"Yeah," Kai panted, cracking his knuckles. "I'm kind of an overachiever."
The ledger glowed brighter—then shattered into dust. The backlash of raw magic threw Kai back into a wall.
Mira rushed forward. "Kai!"
"I'm good!" he groaned. "Walls are just… aggressive chairs."
The enforcer stepped closer, lowering his staff. "The Debt King will be most interested in you. A being whose debt cannot be measured is a threat to divine order."
"Or maybe," Kai said, pushing himself up, "I'm just bad at math."
Before the enforcer could strike again, the vault door behind him clicked.
Nyla grinned, triumph in her eyes. "Lock disengaged!"
The enforcer turned sharply. "What—"
Kai seized the moment. His Seal pulsed, a red aura flooding his arm. He lunged forward with everything he had, punching the staff aside and slamming his fist into the enforcer's mask.
The golden mask cracked down the middle—and for a split second, Kai saw the face beneath.
It wasn't human.
It was an ethereal visage of coins, contracts, and whispering mouths—a soul made of debt itself.
The enforcer stumbled back, flickering like a dying hologram. "You… shouldn't exist," it rasped. "The balance must be upheld."
Kai raised his hand for another strike—then froze as a cold wind swept through the chamber. The runes on the walls dimmed, one by one.
And from deep within the vault came a voice.
"Balance will be upheld."
The enforcer straightened abruptly, head snapping toward the sound. His body turned rigid—like a puppet cut from its strings. Then, in a burst of golden flame, he disintegrated, leaving nothing but a single gold coin spinning on the floor.
It rolled to Kai's boot and stopped.
He bent down, squinting at it. The coin bore an unfamiliar sigil—a crown made of broken rings.
Mira stared. "That's… the Debt King's personal mark."
"Cool," Kai said weakly. "We're definitely not cursed now."
They pushed through the now-unlocked vault door. Inside was a sight that didn't belong in reality.
Mountains of glowing currency rose like dunes of light. Every coin, every note, every promissory shard floated in the air, bound by invisible threads of energy. The entire vault pulsed like a heart, breathing in rhythm with something vast and unseen.
Nyla whispered, "This is the Treasury Core. The soul of Lous. Every debt in the kingdom runs through here."
"Then we're standing inside a giant wallet," Kai muttered.
"Technically, yes," she said. "And it's alive."
The light flickered. The threads pulsed faster. Mira's voice dropped to a whisper. "Kai… I think it senses you."
The piles of currency began to shift, flowing like liquid metal. From the center of the chamber rose a massive figure—a silhouette of pure golden energy with eyes like molten crowns.
"Bearer of infinite debt," it spoke. "You trespass upon the domain of the King. State your worth."
Kai swallowed hard, his usual sarcasm faltering. "Worth? Uh… a couple silver and a half-eaten sandwich?"
The figure's eyes narrowed. "Insolence. You mock the balance."
"Sorry," Kai said quickly. "Reflex."
The chamber trembled. Runes flared across the walls, sealing every exit. Mira's grip on her staff tightened. "That's not an illusion. That's a projection of the Debt King himself."
"Projection?" Kai asked. "Meaning?"
"Meaning if we die here, our souls will owe him forever."
Kai sighed. "So… business as usual."
The golden figure towered above them, its voice vibrating through the floor and echoing in Kai's ribs.
"Debt is not sin. Debt is law. And you—" The figure leaned forward, molten eyes narrowing. "—have no law."
Kai's chest burned where his seal was. It wasn't just glowing anymore; it was reacting. Every pulse of light from the vault synced perfectly with his heartbeat.
Mira grabbed his arm. "It's binding to your debt stream. Kai, whatever you do—don't let it finish connecting!"
"Oh, sure," Kai said, grimacing as red light flared up his arm. "I'll just cancel my divine subscription real quick."
The Debt King's projection stretched out a hand. From the air, chains made of golden script appeared, each link spelling a word: Owe. Promise. Bind. They spiraled toward Kai like tendrils of ink across water.
Mira thrust her staff into the floor. "Barrier!"
A dome of translucent light surrounded them just as the chains hit, sparking on impact. The barrier cracked under the pressure, fragments of glowing symbols raining down like glass.
Nyla darted to the central console of floating runes. "If I can sever the Treasury Core's connection to him, it'll cut the projection—temporarily!"
"How temporarily?" Kai shouted, his voice strained as the air thickened with divine pressure.
"About as long as a lie lasts in a courtroom!"
"…So seconds."
The projection tilted its head, watching them struggle. "You hide behind numbers and mortal rules. Do you think I do not see you?"
Its gaze shifted—directly at Kai.
For a moment, everything went silent.
Kai blinked. The vault faded away. The light dimmed. He stood in a vast, empty space filled with floating receipts and glowing contracts stretching into infinity.
Then he saw himself.
Another Kai, standing barefoot on a pile of glowing bills, smiling faintly. His eyes were hollow, glowing with the same red light as the seal.
Kai froze. "…Nope. Not doing mirror therapy today."
The other him spoke in a flat, calm tone. "You wanted power without consequence. You borrowed against your soul."
Kai's throat went dry. "Yeah, and I'm paying it back."
"You think fighting, laughing, pretending—it counts as repayment?"
"I think staying alive is a decent start."
The other Kai tilted his head. "You still don't remember, do you? The debt wasn't made here. You brought it from your old world."
Kai staggered back. "What?"
The clone's expression didn't change. "You died owing. You reincarnated owing. You are a walking loan that can't be closed."
The words echoed endlessly, bouncing through the infinite contracts.
Kai tried to laugh—but it came out weak. "Guess that explains the bad credit score."
Back in the real vault, Mira and Nyla watched Kai convulse midair, caught in the Debt King's projection field. His body was suspended, glowing with a harsh red light.
Nyla shouted, "He's trapped in a soul audit! It's rewriting his history!"
Mira clenched her jaw. "Then we rewrite it back."
She thrust her staff again, this time not for defense—but for interference. "Contract Breaker: Clause Reversal!"
Runes exploded from the staff, wrapping around Kai's form. The projection flickered, momentarily losing focus.
Inside the illusion, Kai's clone began to fracture, cracks running through its body like broken porcelain.
"You can't erase what you owe," it hissed. "The King always collects."
Kai steadied his breathing. "Maybe. But I don't owe him."
The clone froze.
"I owe my team, my friends, the dumb cat who won't shut up about fish. I owe people who gave me chances." He clenched his fists, eyes blazing. "And that's a debt I don't mind carrying."
He slammed his fist forward, right through his clone's chest. The illusion shattered in a shockwave of red light.
Back in the vault, the projection screamed—a sound like the collapse of every economy in the world. The golden chains snapped, and the figure reeled backward, its body glitching like an unstable signal.
Mira fell to her knees, panting. "He… did it."
Kai hit the floor a second later, landing face-first in a pile of glowing currency. "Ow. Okay, I'm invoicing the universe for that one."
Nyla typed frantically into the rune console. "I can't hold the severance much longer! Once the link reestablishes, he'll come back stronger—"
"Then we leave," Mira said, grabbing Kai's arm and pulling him upright.
"Wait," Kai muttered, looking around. His seal had stopped glowing, but a faint pulse still connected it to the Core. "We came for proof of what the Debt King's doing. Did we get it?"
Nyla held up a shard of golden data crystal, flickering with numbers. "Everything we need. Ledgers, soul contracts, corruption trails—it's all in here."
Kai grinned weakly. "Then let's cash out before he repossesses our faces."
They sprinted toward the exit as the vault began collapsing behind them. Golden light burst through cracks in the walls, molten symbols raining down like sparks.
Kai carried Mira as the floor trembled. "Remind me to never rob divine banks again!"
"Remind me to never follow you again!" she shouted.
Nyla dove through the closing gate last, slamming her palm against the rune control. The door sealed shut behind them with a deafening boom.
Silence. Dust. The faint jingle of coins settling.
Kai leaned against the wall, catching his breath. "We good?"
Nyla held up the glowing data crystal. "Good."
Mira exhaled. "For now."
They didn't notice the small golden coin that had rolled out of Kai's pocket. It stopped, shimmered, and melted into the stone floor.
Far below, deep within the treasury's heart, a voice whispered faintly—almost amused.
"Balance adjusts… slowly.".