[Current Stack: 60 Common, 5 Uncommon, 13 Rare, 2 Boss Chests, 1 Platinum Core, 4 Milestones.] [Multiplier: 153.2%] [Vault Pressure: 99%. Warning: Total cellular collapse in 3 minutes.]
Floors 11 and 12 were a red blur. Yuto didn't remember climbing the stairs. He was completely blind in his right eye, the blood vessels having burst from the sheer, crushing density of his hoarded stats. He moved entirely by the sound of Ayase's footsteps and Kurenai's heavy breathing.
When they finally kicked open the gilded double doors of Floor 13, the oppressive, toxic atmosphere of the slums vanished.
The Ouroboros Guild's forward operating base wasn't a ruin; it was a pristine, hyper-modern penthouse suite suspended above the clouds. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a mocking, panoramic view of the dark, starving Ash-Tribe slums miles below.
Sitting on a throne made of fused, high-tier loot chests was Guildmaster Ryūzen.
He was a massive man, wearing a sleek, tailored suit woven from golden nanotech. Half his face was replaced by polished obsidian cybernetics, and his aura was suffocating. Ryūzen didn't hunt for his power—he harvested it. By taking a 90% tax from every Hunter on the first twelve floors, his stats were bloated to a sickening degree.
Flanking him were six Elite Enforcers, their weapons drawn.
"I heard a rumor that a glowing red rat was making a mess of my lower floors," Ryūzen sneered, swirling a glass of synthetic wine. His mechanical eye zoomed in on Yuto's shirtless, bleeding, trembling form. "But looking at you... I don't see a threat. I see a corpse. You're dying of code-rot, boy."
"Guildmaster Ryūzen," Ayase stepped forward, her katana humming with silver ki. "Your tyranny over the Ash-Tribes ends today."
"I'll mount your horns on my wall, snake!" Kurenai roared, her nodachi igniting with Oni-fire.
Ryūzen laughed, a cold, synthetic sound. He snapped his fingers.
The six Enforcers didn't attack. Instead, Ryūzen simply released his own magical pressure. The sheer weight of thousands of stolen Code Fragments slammed into the room like a physical wall. Ayase was forced to her knees, her blade trembling as she tried to support herself. Kurenai roared in defiance, but the artificial gravity pinned the Oni to the marble floor.
Only Yuto remained standing.
He didn't stand because he was strong. He stood because his body was so impossibly dense with unspent code that Ryūzen's pressure couldn't move him. But the effort was the final nail in the coffin.
[Warning: Vault Pressure 100%. Critical Mass Reached.] [System Directive: Host death imminent. Erasing Vault contents in 10... 9...]
"You Ash-Tribe trash are all the same," Ryūzen mocked, standing up from his throne and walking slowly toward Yuto. "You scavenge in the dirt. You beg. You hope for a miracle drop to save your sick little families. But miracles belong to the Guild."
Yuto's clouded eyes snapped into focus. The memory of his sister's lifeless body, of the stolen Silver Healing Core, flared in his mind. The rage was hotter than the Stigma burning on his hand.
8... 7...
"You took it all," Yuto whispered, blood spilling past his lips. "You tax the desperate until they die."
"And I'll take whatever you're hiding, too," Ryūzen smiled, reaching a golden, cybernetic hand out to grab Yuto by the throat.
Yuto looked at the glowing holographic interface hovering in his retinas. He had suffered for thirteen floors. He had ignored the System's goonbait. He had resisted the girls' accidental temptations. He had let his body tear itself apart, all for this exact second.
6... 5...
Yuto raised his trembling, blood-soaked left hand. He didn't form a fist. He just extended a single finger toward the glowing red UI window only he could see.
"I'm not hiding it," Yuto smiled, a terrifying, bloody, manic grin. "I was just letting it earn interest."
Click.
[System Command Accepted: CLAIM ALL.]