The dawn came late.
Kai sat on a half-broken crate outside the ruins of the Treasurer's Vault, a steaming tin cup of what could almost be called coffee in his hands. Felix was sprawled beside him, using a torn scroll as a blanket, snoring softly between muttered curses about "compound interest."
The air smelled faintly of ozone and dust. What had once been a mountain of gold now lay scattered across the wasteland like broken teeth. The entire region shimmered faintly, cursed by the remnants of unstable magic.
[DEBT BALANCE: UNKNOWN]
[LIMIT BREAKER – SYSTEM ERROR DETECTED]
The same red warning flickered in Kai's vision for the hundredth time. He tried dismissing it. It kept coming back.
"Still broken, huh," he muttered. "Figures."
He took another sip of the bitter brew. The caffeine hit, but his limbs still felt… off. Too light, too heavy — like someone had changed the gravity just to mess with him.
"Morning, boss," Felix mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "We alive?"
Kai tilted his cup toward him. "Define alive."
Felix squinted at the horizon. "The sky's black at sunrise. I'm gonna say 'technically.'"
They sat in silence for a while. A few stray gold coins rolled past them in the wind, clinking softly as they went. The world felt eerily quiet without the Treasurer's hum — like the economy of reality itself had stopped to breathe.
"Hey, Felix," Kai said finally. "You ever feel like something's watching you?"
Felix yawned. "All the time. Usually creditors."
"No, I mean…" Kai trailed off. "Something big."
The psychic frowned, sensing the seriousness in his tone. "You're not talking about Virel, are you? He's vaporized. Nothing left but a fine mist of regret."
Kai shook his head. "Not him."
For a moment, the shadows lengthened unnaturally around them — stretching across the ground like spilled ink. Then, from nowhere, a coin fell between them.
It didn't bounce. It just stopped. Floating.
Felix blinked. "That's… not supposed to happen."
The coin spun in midair, faster and faster, until it dissolved into a burst of black smoke. From the smoke came a whisper, quiet but crystal clear.
"Good morning, Kai Everain. We need to discuss your account."
Felix scrambled to his feet. "Oh hell no, not another one!"
Kai stood, his jaw tightening. "Who are you?"
"Call me the Lender."
The smoke coalesced into a vague humanoid shape — no face, no form, just the silhouette of a person made of ink and numbers, constantly rewriting themselves.
"You've entered into an automatic refinancing agreement," it said calmly. "Your debt was transferred to me during the incident with the Treasurer."
Kai crossed his arms. "Without my consent."
"You were dying," the voice replied. "Consent was… implied."
Felix raised a trembling hand. "I hate everything about that sentence."
Kai exhaled slowly. "What do you want?"
The Lender tilted its head — or at least, the outline of one.
"Collateral."
Kai frowned. "Collateral?"
"To maintain your Limit Breaker's functionality, I require something of equal or greater value to your potential power. A guarantee."
Felix looked at Kai. "Oh great, he wants a soul. Classic."
But the Lender shook its head.
"Souls depreciate too quickly. I deal in something more stable."
"Then what?" Kai asked.
The shadow's form rippled.
"Your future."
Kai blinked. "…Come again?"
"You may continue living and using your ability. But every action you take, every victory you claim, accrues interest in my favor. You will succeed — because I will make sure you do. But the outcome of your life… belongs to me."
Felix took a step back. "That's not a deal, that's cosmic slavery!"
Kai's eyes hardened. "So if I refuse?"
"You default."
The air grew heavy. The world dimmed. For an instant, Kai saw it — a vision of himself, hollow-eyed and shackled in a place made of darkness and debt.
"And when you default," the Lender said softly, "you cease to exist."
The coin reappeared in Kai's palm — glowing faintly black. The symbol etched into it wasn't from any nation or guild. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Felix whispered, "Kai, please tell me you're not considering this."
Kai stared down at the coin, silent for a long moment.
"Considering?" he said quietly. "I think I already signed."
The Lender's form smiled — or rather, the numbers curved like one.
"Welcome to the new economy, Kai Everain. Your account is now active."
The coin dissolved, leaving only a faint burning mark on his palm — shaped like an infinity symbol wrapped in chains.
Felix groaned. "We're so, so doomed."
Kai smirked weakly. "Yeah. But hey, at least we're still liquid."
Felix kicked at the dirt, sending a few pebbles flying. "So let me get this straight. You just sold your future to a shadow made of bad math?"
Kai flexed his hand, watching the faint black symbol flicker beneath the skin. "Technically, I refinanced it."
"Yeah, into doom, Kai!" Felix threw his arms up. "You could've just said no!"
Kai sighed. "He said I'd stop existing if I didn't."
Felix paused. "…Okay, fair. But still — couldn't you at least have negotiated some perks? A cashback deal? A complimentary toaster?"
Kai gave a half-smile. "Pretty sure the toaster would've eaten me."
A low hum echoed across the barren land, faint but rhythmic — like the pulse of a massive machine buried beneath the earth. The shadows around them began to shimmer, rippling outward in circular waves.
[DEBT RESTRUCTURING COMPLETE]
[LIMIT BREAKER RESTORED – ACCESS LEVEL 2 UNLOCKED]
A surge of energy ran through Kai's veins — not the usual raw power of Limit Breaker, but something cleaner, colder. His perception expanded; he could feel the weight of nearby mana streams, the value of every object around him quantified in his mind. Even Felix had a faint price tag hovering faintly over his head.
Kai blinked. "…That's new."
Felix followed his gaze and nearly choked. "Wait, does that say I'm worth thirty-seven silver?! That's robbery!"
"Technically, it's the market rate."
Felix groaned. "I'm going to haunt you if we die, I swear."
Before Kai could answer, the Lender's voice returned — not from the air this time, but from inside his thoughts.
"Observe, Kai Everain. You've become part of the grand ledger."
The world around him shimmered and shifted. The dusty ruins fell away, replaced by a cosmic vista — an infinite sky filled with spiraling golden lines and luminous sigils that connected stars like accounting networks.
Each glowing line pulsed with light, connecting worlds, realms, even gods. And between them all, faint figures moved — colossal entities made of symbols, masks, and currencies that shifted form with every breath.
"What you call power," said the Lender, "is merely credit. What you call destiny, merely debt."
Kai stood frozen. "What… is this place?"
"The Infinite Market," the Lender said. "The economy that governs every plane. Every soul owes something to someone. Every god, every mortal, every dream. The system of power you rely on — Limit Breaker — is a sub-account here."
Felix's voice cracked as he stared at the scene. "So we're… all just customers in some cosmic stock exchange?"
"Clients," the Lender corrected. "Though few are solvent."
Kai clenched his fist. "Why me? Why take my future?"
"Because your potential return outweighs the risk," it said smoothly. "You're a volatile asset, Kai Everain — the kind that shapes markets. And when markets tremble, the gods take notice."
He felt a chill crawl down his spine. "You mean—"
"Yes. Your debt doesn't just empower you anymore. It destabilizes divine balance. Heroes, demons, kings — all will come to collect, one way or another."
Felix gulped. "So… we just declared bankruptcy against reality?"
Kai's voice was quiet, but certain. "No. We declared war."
The illusion shattered. The landscape returned, but the air still hummed with that impossible rhythm. The coin symbol on Kai's hand glowed faintly as he stood, eyes sharper than before.
"Alright," he muttered. "Guess we're going to need a bigger wallet."
Felix rubbed his temples. "Please tell me you mean metaphorically."
Kai didn't answer — because deep down, he wasn't sure anymore.
[NEW QUEST: THE DIVINE DEBT WAR]
Objective: Identify the first of the Seven Creditors.
Reward: Information on 'The Debt King.'
Felix peeked over his shoulder at the system window and blanched. "Oh fantastic. It's another capitalized nightmare."
Kai grinned. "Come on. You love a good apocalypse."
"I love naps, Kai! Naps!"
"Then nap on the way," Kai said, striding toward the horizon. "We've got gods to pay."
Felix groaned but followed, muttering about the insanity of unpaid cosmic invoices.
High above them, unseen, the Lender's form drifted across the clouds like smoke, watching silently. Its eyes — or the faint suggestion of them — shimmered with faint amusement.
"Invest well, Kai Everain," it whispered. "For the gods collect interest too."
And far beyond the mortal sky, in a place of gold and silence, something vast stirred — a figure seated upon a throne of chained coins, its presence ancient and absolute.
A low voice rumbled through eternity.
"Another debtor rises… Excellent."
The road to the City of Bonds was a long, cracked stretch of old trade stone — a highway that glimmered faintly under the light of two suns. Half the tiles bore inscriptions in languages long forgotten, and some hummed faintly with residual mana from travelers who'd paid tolls in blood, coin, or both.
Kai walked with his hands in his pockets, the hum of Limit Breaker faint beneath his skin. Felix trudged behind, balancing a sack full of supplies that were clearly heavier than advertised.
"You know," Felix panted, "I've realized something important about you."
"Do I want to know?"
"You're the kind of guy who could sell air to a drowning man."
Kai smirked. "That's just good business."
Felix groaned. "Yeah, business that'll kill us both! The cosmic debt thing, the creepy lender, the glowing tattoo — when does the part where we pay it off actually happen?"
Kai kicked a loose coin lying in the dirt. It skittered away, then abruptly stopped, hovering mid-air before vanishing into dust. "When I find the Debt King."
Felix winced. "And do we have a plan for that?"
Kai shrugged. "Sort of. Step one: get to Bonds. Step two: not die."
"Step three?"
"Make friends with the kind of people who charge interest in souls."
Felix muttered, "I miss when our biggest problem was taxes."
The City of Bonds loomed ahead by midday — a glittering skyline of gold and glass, half-city, half-cathedral. Massive coin-shaped towers spun slowly in the air, suspended by invisible enchantments. Every wall shimmered with runes of transaction, and the air itself carried a faint metallic scent.
As they passed through the gates, a group of armored clerks in immaculate suits approached. They weren't guards exactly — they were Auditors.
"Welcome to the City of Bonds," one said, adjusting his monocle. "Please declare all outstanding debts and taxable blessings."
Felix froze. "Do emotional debts count?"
The clerk blinked. "If they carry interest, yes."
Kai sighed and flicked his Adventurer's ID open. "Name: Kai Everain. Power: Limit Breaker. Debt: Unquantifiable."
The clerk's pen snapped in half.
"Un… quantifiable?"
Kai gave him a lazy smile. "Yeah, we're still figuring out the decimal points."
The Auditors exchanged glances, then nodded curtly. "In that case, Mr. Everain, you qualify for provisional entry. The Board will wish to… review your portfolio."
Felix leaned closer. "That sounded ominous."
"It always does," Kai replied.
The City was overwhelming — alive with chatter, deals, and a symphony of ringing coins. Magical screens displayed exchange rates for blessings, spells, even luck. A street merchant shouted, "Buy two miracles, get one curse free!"
Felix's head turned at every sound. "This place is… capitalism on steroids."
Kai's gaze lingered on a distant spire — black marble lined with veins of gold, its surface pulsing like a heartbeat. "That's the Exchange Cathedral," he said quietly. "They say every contract in existence is mirrored there."
Felix gulped. "Even yours?"
"Especially mine."
He didn't mention it aloud, but every step closer to the city's heart made his mark burn hotter — a faint sting under his skin that pulsed in sync with the cathedral's glow.
They found an inn near the trading square, a cozy place called The Gilded Rest, run by a smiling woman whose eyes glowed faintly blue.
"Rooms are twenty-five silver a night, or one confession," she chirped.
"Confession?" Felix asked.
"Emotional currency," she explained. "We sell them to poets and priests."
Kai tossed her a handful of coins. "We'll pay the old-fashioned way."
She caught the coins mid-air without looking. "Suit yourself, sugar."
Inside, Kai collapsed onto the bed, arms stretched out. "Finally. A roof that isn't cursed or collapsing."
Felix slumped into a chair. "Yeah, but you notice everyone here talks like they're two syllables away from a threat?"
Kai stared at the ceiling. "That's because they probably are."
A knock came at the door. Neither of them moved.
Then a voice — low, refined, and disturbingly familiar — called through.
"Kai Everain. The Board requests your presence."
Kai's stomach dropped. "…They move fast."
Felix hissed, "Please tell me 'Board' doesn't mean—"
"The Board of Divine Credit," the voice replied before he could finish. "Attendance is mandatory."
Felix facepalmed. "Yup. Definitely means that."
Ten minutes later, Kai stood before a massive obsidian door etched with gold sigils, Felix beside him clutching his staff nervously.
The Lender's mark pulsed faintly on Kai's hand as the door creaked open. Inside, an immense circular chamber spread out — walls lined with floating contracts, each shimmering faintly like constellations.
At the center sat seven figures around a crystalline table — masked, robed, each radiating divine energy.
The one at the head spoke first, voice smooth as silver.
"Kai Everain. Debtor of the Infinite Market. We have reviewed your case."
Kai crossed his arms. "Guessing you didn't call me here to waive my fees?"
The masked figure chuckled. "No. We called you here because the Debt King has… taken an interest in your account."
Felix groaned softly. "Of course he has."
The chamber fell silent — the weight of invisible numbers pressing down on them.
The head of the Board leaned forward. "Tell us, Kai Everain… how far are you willing to go to balance the world's books?"
Kai met the divine gaze without flinching. "Depends. How much is it worth?"
The crystalline table glowed faintly as Kai stepped closer, the circle of divine auditors watching his every move. Each mask was etched with a different sigil — Balance, Promise, Interest, Debt, Faith, Value, Void. Their presence made the air hum with unbearable tension.
Felix shifted uneasily beside him, whispering, "Why do I feel like we're about to get audited by gods?"
Kai cracked his neck. "Because we are."
A robed figure gestured, and a rune circle flared beneath Kai's feet. "Per Board procedure," the lead auditor intoned, "the debtor must undergo Evaluation — a full measurement of value, burden, and repayment capacity. Do you consent?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "What happens if I don't?"
Another voice, smooth and cold, replied, "Then your debt will be liquidated. Literally."
Felix raised a hand. "Quick question! Define 'literally'?"
"Liquidated into essence," said the auditor calmly. "We distill the soul into market energy."
Felix paled. "Right. Literal. Got it."
Kai sighed. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
The circle expanded, engulfing the entire chamber in light. Contracts floated from the walls and spun around Kai like a storm — each one snapping open to reveal lines of glowing text. His mark flared, the sigil of Limit Breaker pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Debtor Kai Everain," the lead auditor announced. "We begin with your valuation."
The words echoed through the chamber, and immediately, images appeared in the contracts: moments from Kai's life — deals made, debts taken, power earned.
One scroll unfolded to reveal him standing in front of the dungeon loan office, signing a pact with the Debt Demon. Another showed him facing the Hero Tax board, grinning despite being fined mid-battle.
Felix watched in awe. "They're… showing your entire life as financial records."
Kai smirked. "Guess my autobiography's gonna have a ledger appendix."
The auditors whispered among themselves. "Balance unstable. Yield unpredictable. Risk factor… rising."
Then, something shifted. The contracts began to glow red. One by one, they burned away — their ash forming a whirlwind around Kai.
The lead auditor's tone hardened. "Your debt is… irregular. It does not conform to divine arithmetic."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," said another auditor, "that your power—this Limit Breaker—feeds on negative equity. You generate strength from deficit. You are not merely indebted, Mr. Everain. You are profiting from it."
The circle crackled. Energy surged.
Kai's veins glowed faintly gold as he clenched his fists. "Guess that makes me an investor."
The auditors recoiled. The one marked Faith hissed, "Blasphemy. Strength drawn from imbalance threatens the entire Market."
Kai grinned, feeling the rush under his skin. "Then maybe your market needs better competition."
A ripple of divine power tore through the floor. The lead auditor slammed his staff against the table. "Begin the Trial of Evaluation!"
The chamber's light dimmed, and the contracts reformed into glowing shards that flew outward, embedding themselves in the walls.
A colossal scale appeared above them, one side marked Debt, the other Power.
Kai was lifted into the air by invisible force. Energy poured from his mark, manifesting as numbers — literal glowing digits spilling from his skin like currency.
Felix ducked as one shot past him. "Did you just… bleed money?!"
"Don't judge my coping mechanism!" Kai shouted back.
The auditors began chanting. "Measure. Balance. Judge."
The scales wavered, both sides climbing higher and higher until the light from the Debt side became blinding.
Then—
CRACK!
The scale shattered.
The entire chamber went dark.
When the light returned, the auditors were silent. Every mask glowed faintly with alarm.
The lead auditor's voice trembled. "Impossible… the system cannot measure him. His debt feeds itself. The equation collapses."
Kai floated down, landing lightly on the floor. His eyes glowed faintly gold, the mark on his hand pulsing like a heartbeat.
"So," he said with a smirk, "do I pass?"
No one answered.
Felix stepped forward nervously. "Hey, uh, not to interrupt divine panic hour, but what does that mean for him?"
The auditor of Void finally spoke, voice like a whisper through parchment. "It means, young man… that he owes nothing—and everything. His debt has transcended mortal terms."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "So what, I'm debt-free?"
"Far from it," the auditor said darkly. "You are now bound to a higher creditor — one who deals in realities, not coin."
A silence hung heavy between them.
Then the lead auditor bowed his head. "The Debt King has acknowledged your existence, Kai Everain. And he has issued a summons."
Felix blinked. "A… what now?"
The golden table split in half, revealing a single floating envelope — black with red wax, stamped with the sigil of infinity entwined with chains.
Kai stared at it, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it.
The moment his fingers brushed the seal, a voice — smooth, deep, and terrifyingly amused — echoed inside his mind.
"You've been very busy, little debtor. Come find me, if you wish to understand the true cost of power."
The wax melted into his hand, leaving a burning sigil that pulsed once, then faded.
Kai exhaled, stepping back. "Well… that felt expensive."
Felix frowned. "So… what now?"
Kai cracked a grin that was equal parts reckless and confident.
"Now?" he said. "We collect the interest."
The world didn't end that day.
It just went… slightly bankrupt.
The sky over Lucent City shimmered gold as mana debts recalculated, interest rates screamed, and several minor gods filed for magical bankruptcy protection. Somewhere, an accountant angel was weeping into his abacus.
And at the center of it all sat Kai Everain, hero of debt, currently sprawled face-down on the cobblestone street outside the ruins of the Divine Bank.
"Is… is it over?" murmured Rina, poking Kai with the tip of her staff. "Because I'm starting to charge emotional trauma fees."
Kai groaned, turning his head just enough to glare at her through one cracked lens of his glasses. "If you invoice me one more time, I swear I'll reincarnate into a tax collector."
"Bold threat," Niko said, floating upside down and sipping a cup of psychic coffee she had no idea how to make. "But you still owe me for the mental health counseling I provided mid-battle."
"You screamed, 'RUN, HE'S GOT A GIANT CREDIT SCORE!' That's not therapy!"
Their argument was interrupted by a small flutter of parchment drifting down from the sky. It landed on Kai's back with a soft plop.
He lifted it weakly. Golden seal. Black ink. The words "Summons from His High Interest Majesty, the Debt King."
Kai sighed. "…Of course."
"Wait," said Rina, blinking. "He actually sent you paper mail?"
"Fancy," Niko added. "At least he's old-school."
The talking cat, Cashmere, stretched atop a fallen safe. "You broke divine banking law, toppled three departments, and accidentally set the GDP of the capital on fire. Of course the King noticed."
Kai sat up slowly, brushing off rubble. "Well, at least we're done for now. I'll just… ignore this for a week. Maybe it'll expire."
Cashmere blinked. "That's not how divine summons work."
"Sure it is," Kai said, tucking the letter into his jacket. "If you don't acknowledge your problems, they can't legally collect emotional debt."
Niko hovered closer. "Pretty sure that's not—"
"Don't ruin this for me," Kai said.
The wind carried the scent of singed parchment and burnt gold. Around them, the city buzzed with reconstruction magic. The Divine Bank's former headquarters had turned into a crater where golden vines pulsed faintly, whispering numbers no mortal should hear.
For a second, Kai looked at it. The reflection of his own exhausted face flickered in the ruins— the same kid who'd once died kicking a vending machine, now somehow responsible for the economy of an entire kingdom.
"…Still broke," he muttered.
"Still alive," Rina said, smiling faintly.
"Still in debt," Cashmere added.
"Still an idiot," Niko concluded, sipping her imaginary coffee.
Kai smiled, faintly but genuinely. "Guess that's the whole package."
He stood up, back cracking like an old receipt printer, and turned toward the sunset. The gold light caught the folds of his tattered jacket, making him look— for just a second— like an actual hero.
Then his stomach growled. Loudly.
"…You've got to be kidding me," he said.
"I told you to budget for lunch," Rina sighed.
"I was budgeting!"
"By spending everything on magical collateral?"
Kai groaned. "Look, maybe if we stop talking about it, food will manifest out of guilt."
It didn't.
Hours later, as night fell, the group sat by a flickering streetlamp, eating discount noodles that tasted like existential crisis and leftover interest rates.
Niko slurped hers noisily. "You think the Debt King's as scary as they say?"
Cashmere's tail flicked. "He's the one who created the concept of debt. Every unpaid coin whispers his name."
Rina blinked. "That's… not ominous at all."
Kai stared into his cup of noodles. "Then I guess we're already friends."
They laughed— tired, broke, and still together.
Above them, the stars glimmered faintly like scattered coins on velvet. And somewhere, deep within the ethereal vault of the Divine Treasury, a throne shifted. A voice— low, patient, and amused— murmured across dimensions.
"Kai Everain… your balance is due."
The wind whispered over Lucent City. The parchment in Kai's jacket shimmered, faintly pulsing with light.
He didn't notice. He just slurped another mouthful of noodles and sighed.
"Debt King or not… I'm charging him interest."