The Slave Barracks of Sector 4 were less of a dormitory and more of a mass grave for the living.
It was a cavernous, windowless tunnel carved into the rusted walls of the Spire. Three hundred men slept on mats of woven fungal straw. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies, mold, and fear.
Ren didn't sleep.
He sat in the darkest corner of the room, his back pressed against the cold metal wall. He held the bundle of lead-lined canvas against his chest like a mother holding a newborn.
His NPV Eye was throbbing, a constant, dull ache behind his temple. He had overused it today. Every time he activated it, it consumed a fraction of his mental stamina.
[Time until Liquidation: 18 Hours, 42 Minutes.]
The countdown was a red glare in the corner of his vision. He had paid the daily interest, but the principal debt—the 5,000 Karma inherited from the previous owner—was still due.
"5,000," Ren whispered. "That's two thousand five hundred days of labor in the scrap heaps. Seven years."
He couldn't work his way out of this. The system was designed to keep debt-slaves in a cycle of poverty until they died. To escape, he needed a windfall.
Creeeeak.
The heavy iron door at the far end of the barracks groaned open.
Ren stopped breathing. The snoring of the other slaves covered the sound, but Ren was listening for it. Overseer Ma was a petty man. Petty men didn't wait for revenge.
Three silhouettes slipped into the room. They didn't carry lanterns. They moved with the practiced stealth of predators who were used to killing sleeping men.
Ren activated his eye. The golden data streamed in the darkness.
[Target: Thug A]
Net Worth: 12 Karma.
Weapon: Iron Dagger (Poisoned).
[Target: Thug B]
Net Worth: 8 Karma.
Weapon: Weighted Club.
[Target: Thug C (Leader)]
Net Worth: 45 Karma.
Weapon: Low-Grade Spirit Steel Blade.
Inventory: Pouch of Coins (Bribe from Overseer Ma).
Ren's eyes narrowed. Forty-five Karma? That was a fortune in the slums. And a Spirit Steel blade? That weapon alone was worth more than Ren's life.
The three men crept toward Ren's assigned sleeping mat—a ragged pile of straw near the center of the room.
Ren wasn't there. He had stuffed his straw mat with dirty rags to create a decoy shape under the blanket.
He watched from the shadows, ten meters away. He slowly unwrapped the lead canvas, exposing the charred tip of the Scorched Lightning Wood.
The wood hummed. The air around Ren's hands began to ionize. The smell of ozone drifted through the room.
The Leader froze. He sniffed the air. "You smell that?"
"Smells like... a storm," Thug B whispered.
"Just kill him," the Leader hissed. He raised the Spirit Steel blade and plunged it viciously into the bundle of rags on Ren's bed.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
"He's not screaming," Thug A noted nervously.
The Leader ripped the blanket back. "Rags! It's a decoy!"
"Looking for me?"
The three assassins spun around.
Ren stood in the corner, the Lightning Wood glowing with a menacing, sapphire pulse. In the dark barracks, he looked like a demon holding a fragment of a falling star.
"What is that?" The Leader's eyes widened, fixated on the treasure. Greed instantly overrode his fear. "Get him! Whatever he's holding, it's ours!"
They rushed him.
Ren didn't panic. He calculated the distance. Ten meters. Closing speed: 4 meters per second. Impact in 2.5 seconds.
He didn't want to waste another 500 Karma on a full blast. He needed to be efficient.
[Asset Analysis: The Barracks Floor is covered in conductive damp mold.]
Ren aimed the wood not at the men, but at the wet metal floor in front of them.
"Asset Liquidation," Ren muttered.
Zzzzzzt!
A focused arc of blue lightning, thinner than the one before, shot out of the wood. It struck the puddle of condensation the assassins were running through.
[Expenditure: 100 Karma.]
The electricity didn't kill them. It traveled through the water and up their legs.
"ARGH!"
The three men convulsed, their muscles locking up instantly. They collapsed face-first onto the metal floor, twitching uncontrollably as the current fried their nervous systems.
The sudden flash of light and the screams woke the entire barracks.
"What's happening?" "Light! There's light!" "Is that... lightning?"
Three hundred slaves sat up in terror, watching the scene.
Ren stepped out of the shadows. He walked calmly toward the three twitching assassins. The Leader was foaming at the mouth, his Spirit Steel blade lying just out of reach.
Ren kicked the blade away. He looked down at the Leader.
"You came to foreclose on my life," Ren said coldly. "But it seems you didn't check your own solvency."
Ren crouched down. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the Leader's hair and slammed his head into the metal floor.
Crunch.
The twitching stopped.
[System Notice: Enemy Liquidated.] [Karma Gained: 0.1 (Scavenged from Soul Residue).]
Ren ignored the pathetic reward. He went for the real assets.
He tore the pouch off the Leader's belt. He dumped the contents into his hand. Five glowing white coins.
[Item: Low-Grade Spirit Stones (5)]
Total Value: 500 Karma.
Ren let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Five hundred. It wasn't five thousand, but it was a start. He recouped the cost of the first blast.
He picked up the Spirit Steel Blade.
[Item: Spirit Steel Dagger]
Current Value: 150 Karma.
Condition: Poor. Needs sharpening.
He stripped the other two assassins of their weapons and coins.
By now, the entire barracks was awake. Three hundred pairs of eyes were staring at Ren. They saw the dead men. They saw the glowing wood. They saw the blood on Ren's hands.
Ren stood up. He knew this was a critical moment. In prison, on the first day, you have to establish dominance or you become a victim.
He turned to face the room. He held up the Lightning Wood. Sparks danced off it, illuminating his sharp, grim face.
"Overseer Ma sent these men," Ren announced, his voice echoing in the silence. "He tried to have me killed in my sleep because I caught him stealing from you."
A murmur went through the crowd.
"He skims your quotas," Ren continued, walking down the center aisle. "He starves you to pad his own pockets. And when I called him out, he sent dogs to silence me."
He kicked the corpse of the Leader.
"These dogs are dead. I am not."
He stopped in front of a burly, scarred slave—the unofficial boss of the barracks, a man named 'Ironhead'.
Ren looked Ironhead in the eye. His NPV Eye flashed.
[Target: Ironhead]
Value: 15 Karma (Physical Strength).
Potential: Moderate. Good loyalty stats.
"Ironhead," Ren said. "You've been stuck in this room for five years. You owe 400 Karma. You'll never pay it off. You'll die here."
Ironhead grit his teeth. "What do you want, kid?"
Ren tossed one of the Spirit Stones he had just looted to Ironhead.
The room gasped. A Spirit Stone was worth a hundred meals.
"I'm buying your contract," Ren said. "Starting tonight, you don't work for the Overseer. You work for me."
Ironhead stared at the glowing stone in his hand. He looked at the dead assassins. He looked at the lightning crackling in Ren's other hand.
Greed and fear warred in his face. Greed won.
"What do I have to do?" Ironhead grunted.
Ren smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
"Simple," Ren said. "We are going to perform an audit. Tomorrow morning, when Ma opens that door... we are going to take over the mine."
[System Alert: Faction Established.] [Faction Name: Pending...] [Current Members: 2.]
Ren looked at the screen.
Faction Name?
He thought about the firms he had destroyed on Earth. He thought about the ruthless efficiency of the market.
"Name it," Ren whispered to the System. "The Black Ledger."