The rain finally stopped, leaving the Under-Market slums reeking of ozone and wet ash.
Silas stood on the porch of his ruined estate. Behind him, the bodies of Brutus and his syndicate enforcers were already growing cold on the mahogany floorboards.
He didn't spare them a second glance. In his past life, dead debtors were just written-off losses. In this life, they were stepping stones.
He looked out at the dead grass of his front lawn.
The heavy, reinforced wooden wagon the thugs had brought to repossess his furniture sat abandoned in the mud. The two horned draft-beasts tethered to it snorted nervously, smelling the blood wafting from the open manor doors.
"You can't start a business with empty pockets," Silas murmured.
He stepped off the porch, his boots squelching in the mud.
The Vance Collection Agency was officially open, but it lacked the most crucial element of any enterprise: seed capital. The original Silas Vance was entirely broke. His accounts were frozen, his assets seized, his reputation destroyed.
But Brutus? Brutus was a syndicate boss who had been collecting debts all night before deciding to hit the Vance estate last.
Silas walked around to the back of the wagon. He threw off the heavy canvas tarp covering the cargo bed.
Beneath the stolen paintings and silverware sat a massive, rune-forged iron safe.
Silas's eyes gleamed in the dim light. He brushed his hand over the cold iron. A sudden, violent spark of purple electricity snapped at his fingertips, forcing him to pull back.
A defensive ward.
"System. [Appraise]."
A glowing blue screen materialized over the iron safe.
[Asset: Tier-2 Shock Ward][Origin: Leased from the Azure Tower Arcanists.][Status: Delinquent. Installation fees unpaid by current holder (Brutus).][Cosmic Debt: 450 Karma Points.]
Silas smiled. A cold, corporate smile.
In this world, mages and syndicates thought they owned the magic they wielded. They thought branding a rune onto a box made it theirs. They didn't realize that every spell, every ward, and every enchantment was bound by the cosmic ledger.
If you didn't pay your dues, you didn't own the magic.
And Brutus had died deeply in the red.
Silas reached out and placed his bare palm directly onto the crackling purple rune.
The ward flared violently, preparing to unleash a lethal surge of voltage into his heart.
"Your lease is terminated," Silas whispered. "[Foreclose]."
A blinding flash of silver-white light erupted from his palm.
The cosmic authority of the Absolute Debt System bypassed the magical structure entirely. The purple rune didn't just break; it unraveled, dissolving into harmless wisps of ambient mana that scattered into the night wind.
Click.
The heavy iron tumblers inside the safe unlocked automatically, sensing the absence of their magical anchor.
Silas grabbed the heavy handle and threw the heavy doors open.
He exhaled a slow, satisfied breath.
The safe was packed to the brim.
Neat, banded stacks of Imperial Credits filled the bottom shelves. Silas quickly did the math. There was easily over two hundred thousand credits here. For a slum-dweller, it was a lifetime of luxury. For a noble, it was a modest allowance.
For Silas, it was leverage.
But the credits weren't the real prize.
Resting on the top shelf were three velvet pouches. Silas grabbed one and untied the drawstring. A faint, intoxicating blue glow spilled out, illuminating his sharp features.
Mana stones. Low-grade, but pure.
"System," Silas commanded. "What's the exchange rate?"
[Appraising Assets... 50 Low-Grade Mana Stones detected.][Host may utilize the [Liquidate] function to convert raw stones directly into permanent stat points.][Current Exchange Rate: 10 Stones = 1 Stat Point.]
"Liquidate them all. Dump it into Mana and Agility."
[Processing Transaction...]
The fifty mana stones in the velvet pouches suddenly turned scalding hot. Silas didn't let go. The stones vibrated violently before dissolving into pure, liquid energy that seeped directly through his skin and into his veins.
A euphoric rush of power surged through his body. His vision sharpened further. The ambient energy of the world felt lighter, more responsive to his will.
[Liquidation Complete.][Agility +3][Mana +2]
[Name: Silas Vance][Rank: Mortal (Level 4)][Net Worth: 20 Stat Points]
Silas clenched his fist, feeling the explosive speed coiled in his muscles.
He grabbed the stacks of Imperial Credits and stuffed them into his tattered pockets and the inner lining of his coat.
He had survived the assassination. He had secured his base. He had liquidated his enemies and acquired his initial capital.
He looked back at the ruined, bloodstained manor. It was a wreck, but it was his.
"Phase one complete," Silas muttered, turning his gaze toward the sky. Far above the smog and the neon lights of the Under-Market, the floating citadels of the Azure Empire gleamed like pristine jewels in the approaching dawn.
That was where Duke Valerius lived. That was where the man who murdered his parents sat on a throne of stolen, leased power.
Silas needed a way up there. He needed to step into the light, right into the viper's nest, to begin his audit of the high nobility. But a disgraced, "trash" noble couldn't just walk into the upper echelons. He needed an invitation. He needed a way to force them to open the door.
Whirrrrr.
A sharp, mechanical hum broke the morning silence.
Silas's enhanced agility flared. He pivoted instantly, dropping into a combat stance, his eyes tracking the sound.
Descending from the smog-choked sky was a sleek, silver magitech drone. It was an expensive model, completely silent aside from the faint hum of its anti-gravity thrusters.
It wasn't an assassin. It was a courier.
The drone hovered exactly three feet in front of Silas. A red laser swept over his face, scanning his retinas.
Beep.
"Identity Confirmed: Silas Vance. Head of House Vance."
The drone's undercarriage clicked open. A single envelope dropped from its chassis, fluttering down to land perfectly on the mud-stained marble steps of the porch.
Without waiting for a response, the drone angled its thrusters and shot straight back up into the sky, vanishing into the clouds.
Silas slowly stood up. He approached the steps and picked up the envelope.
It was made of heavy, obsidian-black vellum. Expensive. But what caught Silas's attention was the wax seal binding it shut.
A roaring lion wrapped in thorny vines.
The exact same crest he had found on the assassin's hit-order a few hours ago. The crest of Duke Valerius.
Silas broke the wax seal with his thumb and pulled out the thick cardstock inside. The letters were embossed in pure gold.
To Lord Silas Vance,
Your presence is hereby formally requested at the Zenith Gala, hosted by the Valerius Dukedom at the Apex Spire, three nights from now.
It is time to settle the final accounts of your esteemed family's estate. Attendance is mandatory.
Silas stared at the golden letters.
They thought he was a terrified, broken boy. They thought the assassin had failed, so now they were summoning him directly into their stronghold to force him to sign away the last of his family's rights. They wanted to humiliate him publicly before finishing the job.
They thought they were setting a trap for a lamb.
A low, dark chuckle escaped Silas's lips. The laughter grew, echoing through the empty, bloodstained courtyard.
His neon-blue eyes ignited with absolute, predatory malice.
"You're inviting the repo man to the bank," Silas whispered, crushing the golden invitation in his fist. "Don't mind if I do."