"You're fucking with me?"
The rain hammered down like the world was ending. Ethan burst through the sliding doors, his mother on his back, plunging into the storm. His right hand flickered like a broken hologram—translucent, fading, showing the pooled water beneath his palm.
Karmic backlash. He was disappearing.
"Don't look back." Ethan gasped, feeling his mother's heartbeat against his spine—weak as a candle flame in hurricane winds.
Lyra guarded his left flank, their only defense. Her mechanical right eye leaked acrid black smoke, internal gears grinding like a dying clockwork.
**[Universal coordinate broadcast active]**
**[Hunters arriving: 00:00:00]**
Blinding white light tore through the night, pinning all three in place.
Thirty black armored vehicles blocked the exit like steel beasts. Countless red laser dots crawled across Ethan's chest like bloodsucking leeches.
The vehicles bore snarling iron bear heads—Black Steel Guild. Mercenaries who'd sell their own mothers for the right price.
"Well, well. This the 'God Killer'?"
A bald giant jumped from the command vehicle, exoskeleton armor crushing pavement with sharp cracks.
Berserker chewed betel nut, shouldering a spinning six-barrel Gatling gun. His eyes appraised them like meat at market. "Look like two dead dogs fished from a sewer."
"Ptui!" He spat blood-red juice. "Boys, safeties off! Council's paying by the pound—don't mess up the faces, that's proof of delivery!"
*Click-clack!*
Weapon safeties disengaging created a symphony louder than thunder.
Lyra crouched, fingertips sparking pathetically.
"Ethan." Her voice trembled with desperate resolve. "I'm out of juice. I'll detonate my eye core, blow a gap—you get Auntie out."
"Shut up."
Ethan didn't even glance at those black muzzles. He gently placed his mother on a bench, covering her with his soaked jacket.
"These small fry don't deserve your life."
He straightened his non-existent tie, dragging that half-transparent ghost hand as he walked into the storm.
No defense. No cover.
Berserker hesitated, finger on trigger. "Death wish?"
Ethan stopped five meters away—close enough for the Gatling to turn him into paste in half a second.
He reached into his pocket.
Every hunter's nerves snapped. Dozens of fingers hit first-stage fire controls.
Ethan pulled out a crushed cigarette pack.
Placing one between his lips, he looked at the fully armed Berserker like a customer who'd complain if denied service.
"Buddy." Ethan pointed at the red-hot barrel. "Got a light?"
Dead silence.
Berserker had killed thousands. He'd seen begging, desperate fighting—but never someone asking to light cigarettes off Gatling barrels.
"You mocking me?" Berserker's eyes blazed with killing intent, motor whining as it warmed up. "I'll send you to hell for a light!"
"Try pulling that trigger."
Ethan didn't retreat—he stepped closer. Rain slid down his glasses as he smiled with bone-chilling coldness.
"Berserker, the moment you squeeze, I guarantee you die first. Soul-draining kind of death."
"Threatening who? You can barely stand!" Berserker roared loudly, but his finger froze. This maniac had just caused dimensional tremors—what if he had more tricks?
"Don't believe me?"
Ethan snapped his fingers. "System, show these country bumpkins my 'achievements.'"
*Hum—!*
The glass curtain wall behind them blazed to life, crimson light painting the rainy night blood-red.
**[Current Debt: -3000 years]**
Not numbers—burning causality itself. Each zero reeked of suffocating bloodlust.
"Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands..." The lieutenant's voice shook. "Captain, this lunatic... owes three thousand years?!"
*Normal people get erased for one year of debt. How is this freak still breathing?*
Ethan smiled, bringing his face close, cigarette tip touching the scalding barrel.
*Sizzle.*
Tobacco ignited, sparks flickering.
He inhaled deeply, harsh smoke circling his lungs before blowing it all over Berserker's rigid gas mask.
"Know what this means?" Ethan's voice was quiet but drove ice picks into every eardrum. "This isn't debt—it's the 'tip' I threw out five minutes ago after butchering that god."
"That high-dimensional lord? Not even ashes left."
He raised his translucent right hand, waving it before Berserker's eyes.
"See this? That's the price. I'm in a really bad mood right now, inventory's running low..." Ethan suddenly leaned closer, grinning like a demon. "Maybe I can overdraft another hundred years? Think that's enough to buy your entire worthless crew?"
*CRASH!*
Berserker's psychological defenses shattered completely.
Staring at that terrifying "-3000," his mind filled with images of this maniac taking the whole city down with him.
*This isn't prey—it's a walking nuke!*
"The moment you pull that trigger, we all go to zero together." Ethan flicked ash, sparks landing on Berserker's armor.
"AHHH—!"
Berserker screamed like his soul was burning, stumbling backward and falling ass-first into muddy water.
"Retreat! RETREAT!"
He scrambled up on hands and knees, abandoning his Gatling, voice cracking: "Maniac! He's going nuclear! All units withdraw!"
Fear spread faster than plague.
The once-invincible Black Steel Guild instantly panicked. Armored vehicles scraped each other as hunters fought to board, engine roars drowning out thunder.
In under thirty seconds, the plaza emptied except for puddles and mud.
Until the last taillight vanished.
*Thud.*
Ethan's knees buckled, collapsing into a puddle as his cigarette fell and died.
"Ethan!" Lyra rushed over, catching him. His body felt ice-cold as system warnings flooded his vision.
"Liar." Her eyes reddened. "World's biggest liar."
"Just... business negotiation tactics... *cough*..." Ethan tried adjusting his glasses, but his hand passed through the frames. "Help me up... those idiots will figure it out in thirty minutes... we need to run."
He tremblingly pulled out the black ledger.
Rain soaked the cover, revealing scrawled text—Old Zhang's final gift:
**[Kid, after showing off, run! Go to these coordinates: 30°N... There's a subway line for the dead—only debt-ridden ghosts can see the tracks.]**
*Fengdu Ghost City's smuggling route!*
A hunter's abandoned SUV sat roadside.
Ethan was stuffed into passenger seat while Lyra secured his mother, then jumped behind the wheel and floored it.
The engine roared as the SUV smashed through rain curtains toward that legendary entrance.
Ethan leaned back, watching human lights streak past his window, mouth curving in exhausted resignation.
"Hold tight, Lyra."
He closed his eyes, that translucent hand gripping the ledger.
"We're going to hell."
The SUV's headlights cut through darkness as they raced toward coordinates that existed between worlds—where the living became the damned, and debts were paid in more than money.
Behind them, the city's lights faded like dying stars, and ahead waited something far worse than any mercenary army: the underworld's collection agency.
*And they never missed a payment.*