Dawn over the city of Lous looked like the kingdom was hungover.
The skyline, usually glowing with polished marble and silver spires, flickered under a haze of reddish smog. Temple bells rang out of sync. Somewhere in the distance, a merchant screamed about bread prices doubling in the last hour. Again.
Kai sat on the edge of a collapsed fountain, covered in soot and half-dried blood, chewing what was left of a ration bar that tasted suspiciously like regret.
"…So," he muttered, "we stole divine currency, crashed an economy, and possibly declared war on a god."
Mira sat beside him, cradling her staff like a lifeline. "Possibly?"
"I like to leave room for optimism."
Nyla was across from them, cross-legged with a glowing tablet in her lap, eyes darting through numbers like a gambler checking bad bets. "The Treasury Core's collapse triggered a national deficit surge. Every debt contract in Lous just re-synced to new terms. People owe three times more overnight."
Kai blinked. "You mean—"
"Everyone just went broke."
He stared at her. Then at the wrecked skyline. Then back. "…So we didn't just break the bank."
Mira sighed. "We broke everyone's bank."
The market square below was chaos. Vendors yelled at knights demanding taxes. Knights yelled at priests demanding blessings. Priests yelled at clouds demanding divine refunds.
Kai rubbed his temple. "Do you hear that?"
"What?" Mira asked.
"The sound of my retirement plan evaporating."
A familiar voice chimed in from behind them. "That's optimism talking. You can't retire if you never had a plan."
They turned. Sitting casually atop a broken statue was Felix, the talking cat spirit—now wearing a tiny pair of sunglasses and chewing on a piece of parchment like it owed him rent.
"Where have you been?" Mira demanded. "We nearly died!"
"Networking," Felix said coolly. "Turns out, when an entire city's credit collapses, black market deals bloom like wildflowers."
Kai frowned. "You're proud of that?"
"Survival economics, my broke little messiah." Felix jumped down, tail flicking. "Speaking of which—you just made the front page."
He tossed the crumpled paper toward Kai. The headline read in massive letters:
"DEBT HEROES CRASH KINGDOM BANK — PUBLIC OUTRAGE, DIVINE SILENCE."
Below it was an illustration of Kai looking absurdly smug (and slightly better looking than in reality).
"…They made me look taller," Kai said softly.
"Focus," Mira hissed. "We're wanted criminals now!"
"Correction," Nyla said, still scrolling through data. "We're technically revolutionaries—if the numbers I'm seeing are right."
Kai looked over her shoulder. "That depends. Are the numbers right?"
"They're fluctuating every three minutes. Inflation's gone full nightmare."
Felix yawned. "Congratulations, Kai. You've achieved what no hero ever has."
"Enlightenment?"
"Worse. Hyperinflation."
Mira stood, brushing dust off her cloak. "We can't stay here. If divine enforcers find us, they'll extract every debt we've ever accumulated—and probably a few we haven't."
Kai nodded. "We need to lay low, regroup, and—"
"—and fix an entire economy?" Felix interjected.
Kai squinted. "I was going to say 'eat breakfast,' but sure, let's fix the world before noon."
The cat smirked. "You might want to look east, economist."
He pointed with his tail. Over the rooftops, rising like a mirage, was the shimmering silhouette of the royal palace. But something was different—huge golden banners hung from the walls, and the air itself shimmered with divine symbols.
"The king's declared a Divine Audit," Nyla said grimly, scanning the runes. "That means the Debt King's clergy are taking control of the palace treasury. They'll rewrite every citizen's worth from scratch."
"So we just handed him the keys," Mira said.
Kai clenched his fist. The faint mark on his chest—the seal—pulsed once in response. "No. We bought him time. He's not done yet."
Felix raised a brow. "And what exactly are you planning to do, debtor boy? Storm the palace? Talk down a god?"
Kai looked at the paper again—at the fake confident version of himself on the cover. "Maybe both."
The streets groaned under the weight of riots. People exchanged items like they were currency—food for weapons, blessings for water, promises for shelter.
Kai, Mira, Nyla, and Felix moved through the chaos, heads down. Every alley echoed with prayers and curses in equal measure.
They passed a mother pleading with a priest to cancel her child's debt mark. The priest, trembling, refused—his own mark glowing violently.
Mira whispered, "This is spreading faster than the war in the west ever did."
"It's not war," Kai said quietly. "It's collapse."
He watched the crowd—faces desperate, eyes hollow—and something in him twisted. For all his jokes, for all his pretending, he hated this.
Hated seeing people crushed by numbers they didn't understand.
Hated knowing he might've been the reason they were.
Felix noticed the silence. "Don't tell me you're thinking of doing something noble again."
Kai smirked faintly. "Noble's expensive. I'm just broke enough to try it."
As the sun climbed higher, they reached the outskirts of the old trade district. There, hidden between shuttered stalls and half-burnt banners, stood a weathered church—the same kind Kai once passed on his first day in Lous.
Mira hesitated. "You think this place is safe?"
Kai pushed open the creaking door. "Nope. But the pews are free."
Inside, the stained-glass windows flickered with light shaped like coins falling endlessly. And at the altar—
—a cloaked figure was already waiting.
"About time," the voice said, low and familiar.
Kai froze. "…You."
The stranger lowered his hood, revealing a scar running across his temple. The royal insignia gleamed faintly on his chest.
"Sir Garran," Mira breathed. "The King's treasurer."
He gave a tired smile. "Ex-treasurer. And I'm here to offer you something the Debt King can't."
Kai narrowed his eyes. "A miracle?"
"Worse," Garran said. "A deal."
The air inside the old church smelled of dust, candle wax, and broken vows.
Garran's eyes were tired — the kind of tired you don't sleep off, only bury deeper under guilt. He set down a heavy satchel that clinked like it was full of coins — but when Kai peeked, the metallic shimmer wasn't gold. It was contracts. Thousands of them, folded and sealed.
"Every citizen's debt," Garran said. "Or what's left of it."
Nyla's hands hovered over the stack, trembling slightly. "You took these from the royal treasury?"
"I took them before the Debt King could rewrite them," Garran replied. "Which makes me a traitor to the crown. But it also means you're holding the only thing still keeping this city alive."
Kai leaned back against a pew. "So let me guess — you want us to fix your mess."
"No," Garran said sharply. "I want you to burn it."
Mira's eyes widened. "Burn… every debt contract in Lous?"
"That's madness," Nyla said. "You'd erase every credit record, every divine pledge— the entire system would collapse."
"It already has," Garran said, his voice breaking slightly. "The Debt King doesn't want balance anymore. He wants control. Every soul under a single ledger, bound to divine debt until death."
Felix gave a low whistle. "So, the usual godly overreach. Cute."
Kai crossed his arms. "Why us? You're the treasurer. You've got influence, resources—"
Garran cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Influence? I signed my own soul into collateral the moment I took that seat. The only reason I'm still walking free is because you idiots broke the Treasury Core before he could claim me."
The silence that followed was sharp. Even Felix's tail stopped flicking.
Mira spoke first. "If we burn those, the kingdom will lose every economic anchor. People won't have money—"
"They'll be free," Garran said.
Kai frowned. "Free people can't eat contracts, Garran. They'll starve before they celebrate."
The man's eyes hardened. "And slaves with full bellies aren't free at all."
Kai sank into a pew, running a hand through his messy black hair. "This isn't some idealistic uprising. It's chaos. The moment those papers burn, we'll be hunted by every church and noble in Lous."
Felix grinned. "So, a normal Tuesday?"
"Not helping."
Nyla closed the ledger in front of her and met Kai's gaze. "If the system's already collapsing, maybe we can rebuild it instead of destroying it."
Mira nodded. "We don't have to burn anything. We can rewrite the contracts, loosen the divine binding, give people breathing room."
Garran shook his head. "You don't understand. The Debt King's influence runs through every mark, every contract, every single piece of parchment. The moment you rewrite it, he'll sense it."
"Then we don't rewrite," Kai said slowly. "We forge."
Garran blinked. "What?"
Kai smirked faintly. "We fake an audit. Make it look like the system's fixing itself. If the Debt King thinks everything's under control, maybe we buy time to actually fix it."
Felix purred. "Now that's my kind of blasphemy."
The treasurer hesitated, looking at the group — a mismatched set of rejects, each carrying their own version of regret.
"You think you can fool a god?" he asked.
Kai shrugged. "I've fooled my landlord for three months. Feels like training."
That earned the faintest laugh from Garran — a sound too dry to be genuine, but too human to ignore. "You're going to need more than sarcasm. You'll need power."
He reached into his coat and drew out a small glass orb — pulsing faintly with blue light. Inside, a sigil flickered: an eye surrounded by a ring of broken coins.
"The Debt Sigil."
Nyla's breath caught. "That's one of the original divine seals—"
"—created to balance mortal and divine credit," Garran finished. "But the King perverted it. If you can reattune this, it'll give you access to the city's remaining divine reserves."
Mira frowned. "And the cost?"
"The same as always," Garran said softly. "Debt."
Kai took the orb, feeling it hum against his skin. The seal on his chest responded immediately, burning faintly with recognition.
Felix hissed. "Careful, debtor boy. That thing's alive."
Kai smiled grimly. "So am I."
The old church groaned as wind howled through its broken windows. Dust danced through light like falling ash.
Mira looked around, unease clear in her expression. "We're being watched."
Kai turned. "By who?"
"Not who," she whispered. "What."
The candles went out.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then—
The sound of coins spilling from nowhere.
They clinked across the floor, glimmering faintly, forming a symbol that pulsed like a heartbeat — a twisted version of the Debt Sigil, burning gold and black.
A voice echoed, deep and calm, carrying the weight of eternity and interest rates.
"Kai Everain," it said.
"Bearer of Limit Breaker. Holder of unpayable balance. You trespass upon divine credit."
Felix's fur bristled. "He found us."
Garran's eyes went wide with horror. "No… not this soon—"
Kai stood, eyes narrowing. The mark on his chest flared red.
"You cannot outrun debt," the voice rumbled. "You cannot defy balance. Every coin borrowed returns, every power paid in full."
Kai clenched his fist. "Yeah? Then come collect."
The church floor split open. Golden light erupted like a geyser, swallowing everything in its glow. Mira shouted a spell, Nyla reached for her staff, Felix leapt to Kai's shoulder—
And in that blinding instant, he saw it.
A towering shadow made of molten gold and cracked stone. A face without features, except for two burning eyes — shaped like coins.
The Debt King had arrived.
Light shouldn't burn cold.
But the radiance pouring from the floor felt like frost and fire woven together — divine credit energy, the kind that didn't forgive, didn't forget, and didn't negotiate.
Kai stumbled back, shielding his face as shards of gold-tinted light burst through the cracks in the stone. Each shard hummed with a faint chant, fragments of celestial arithmetic that made his head pound.
"That's divine debt magic!" Nyla yelled. "Nobody mortal should even be able to channel this!"
Felix hissed, claws out, tail puffed like a bottlebrush. "Well, guess who's running a divine overdraft!"
From the golden chasm rose a figure.
Not flesh, not shadow — but something in between. It towered higher than the church ceiling, draped in tattered robes of burning coins. Chains of glowing contract parchment wrapped its limbs. Its face was a mask of molten gold, cracked where two hollow eyes stared down at them.
"I am the Balance. I am the Ledger. I am what remains unpaid."
Mira stumbled backward. "The Debt King…"
Kai's heart hammered. Every instinct screamed to run — but the mark on his chest pulsed, answering the call.
He clenched his fists. "Guess I've got overdue payments, huh?"
"You carry the sin of infinite borrowing," the voice said. "Limit Breaker — a curse born of greed."
"Hey, that's personal growth, not greed," Kai shot back.
The room shuddered. The church walls split as the divine aura flared again. Every time the King spoke, Kai's chest seared hotter — his power reacting, but not obeying. It was as if both the Debt King and Limit Breaker shared the same origin, and one was calling the other home.
"Felix," Kai said through gritted teeth, "I'm starting to think this guy owns my student loans."
Felix grinned, teeth glinting. "Then it's time to default with style!"
Mira began chanting, her hands glowing violet as psychic runes swirled around her. Nyla drew a circle of light under the team, weaving protective wards. The air rippled like heat over a forge as the sigils linked.
The Debt King raised one chained arm, and thousands of golden slips — debt contracts — exploded outward like razors. Each one carried a name, a number, a binding.
Kai saw one land at his feet.
Name: Kai Everain.
Amount Owed: Undefined.
Interest: Eternal.
He kicked it away before the light could latch onto his boots.
"Yeah, that tracks," he muttered.
The next instant, the room became a storm. Contracts slashed through pews, embedding themselves in walls, floors, even air. Mira threw up a psychic barrier; Nyla reinforced it with divine light. Sparks exploded against the shield like hail against glass.
Kai crouched low. "We can't just defend forever!"
"Then attack!" Felix shouted, his eyes flaring bright green. "Debt for debt!"
Kai grinned. "Limit Breaker, full charge!"
The sigil on his chest erupted with red light. Every number in his invisible debt meter climbed, screaming past sane limits — 1,000… 5,000… 10,000 Gold Owed!
His body surged with raw strength, the air cracking around him as energy spiraled from his fists.
"Alright, Your Majesty of Misery," he yelled, "let's see how much pain your divine credit can buy!"
He launched forward — faster than his body should've allowed — and slammed a glowing punch straight into the Debt King's chest.
The impact rippled like thunder. The church's stained glass shattered.
The King staggered half a step. Only half. Then the divine aura flared again, and a single golden hand caught Kai midair, crushing him with enough force to make his ribs creak.
"Power bought with debt is power borrowed," the King said. "And all borrowed power must return."
Kai grit his teeth, struggling against the grip. "Then take your interest in punches!"
He detonated a burst of red energy, blowing himself free, landing in a crouch as his breath came in ragged gasps. The mark on his chest flickered dangerously — almost black.
Nyla's eyes widened. "Kai, stop! You're overloading!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll invoice myself later!"
Felix darted forward, slashing through falling contracts with spectral claws, each strike cutting through glowing debt sigils. "Mira! Now!"
Mira thrust her hands forward, psychic energy lancing out in a violet beam that struck the King's shoulder. For a moment, the divine figure staggered — a crack forming in its golden mask.
But instead of retreating, it laughed.
A sound like coins clattering endlessly.
"Your defiance accrues interest."
The Debt King raised both arms — and the church ceiling vanished. The roof peeled open into an endless sky of swirling gold. Miles above, an ethereal version of the city hung upside down — Lous in debt form, shimmering and warped. Chains fell from it like rain.
Each chain carried contracts glowing with millions of names.
Felix swore under his breath. "That's not divine projection… that's the kingdom's debt manifest. He's weaponizing the entire economy!"
Kai's knees buckled as the mark on his chest pulsed wildly. Every soul bound to Lous, every loan, every unpaid favor — all of it pressed down on him like an invisible mountain.
"You wished to free them," the King intoned. "Then you will pay for them."
Kai's eyes went wide. "Wait, that's not—!"
Chains of gold lashed out and slammed into his body, embedding glowing sigils across his arms, legs, chest. His energy flared, then spiraled out of control.
Mira screamed his name.
Felix leapt at the King, claws wreathed in green light, but was flung away by a wave of divine energy. Nyla threw up another shield, struggling to hold the collapsing church together.
Through the roaring storm, Kai's voice broke out — hoarse, defiant, trembling with barely-contained power.
"I don't care if you're a god or a banker," he growled. "You don't get to own people's lives!"
The red glow around him surged again, consuming the golden chains in crackling crimson light.
Felix looked up, eyes widening. "Kai, what the hell are you—"
The air exploded.
Red and gold light collided, swallowing the church in a blast of divine fire.
And when the glow faded, the church was gone — replaced by an empty, circular crater.
At its center stood Kai Everain — barely conscious, chest mark blackened, surrounded by ash that used to be divine contracts.
He looked up at the sky, where the Debt King's shadow still lingered.
"Round one," he muttered weakly, "goes to overdraft boy."
Then he collapsed.