[Current Stack: 1 Mythic Chest, 6 Fragments, 2,700 Tokens, 75,000 Vita-Fragments, 1 Hydro-Core, 1 Tear, 3 Dev-Strings, 1 VIP Ledger, 1 Platinum Bull.][Multiplier: 1.75%][Vault Pressure: 55%. WARNING: Host's physical presence is now a localized "Server Node".]
The Neo-Tokyo Stock Exchange was a graveyard of broken glass and useless holograms. Outside, the sirens of a thousand police cruisers and corporate dropships converged on the building. The world's fiat currency had just been devalued to the price of scrap paper because Yuto had "vaulted" the conceptual anchor of the global market.
The Head of the Exchange sat on the floor, staring at his blank terminal. "You... you killed it. You killed the incentive to work. If money has no value because you're holding it all in your chest, the world stops turning."
"The world was only turning because you were whipping it," Yuto said, his voice now carrying a heavy, metallic resonance.
He looked at the Vanguard. Shion was vibrating with high-frequency data; she was no longer just a succubus, she was the operating system for Yuto's new reality. Isabella and Kurenai stood at the shattered entrance, watching the first wave of Omni-Corp "Debt-Enforcers" touch down on the street.
"Master," Shion whispered, her eyes glowing with raw binary. "The Global Network is trying to reboot. They're trying to mint a new digital currency to bypass your Vault. They're calling it 'Neo-Vita'."
"Let them mint it," Yuto grunted. He turned to the thousands of terrified traders still huddling in the pits. "Listen up! Your contracts with Omni-Corp are void. You don't owe them your time, your debt, or your souls anymore."
Yuto raised his left hand, the VIP Ledger burning with a white-hot intensity.
"I'm opening a new branch," Yuto announced. "The Offline Bank of the Vanguard. Interest rate: 0%. Fees: None. The only requirement for an account is that you stop spending what you don't have."
With a clench of his fist, Yuto released a microscopic "dividend" from his 75,000 Vita-Fragments. A wave of pure, unrendered energy surged out of his body, washing over every person in the room. It didn't give them money; it gave them Status.
The traders gasped as their "Player Levels"—stagnant for years—suddenly jumped. Their chronic fatigue, their corporate-mandated cyber-sickness, and their stress-levels were "paid off" by Yuto's hoarded mass.
"He's... he's subsidizing our existence," a trader whispered, staring at his rejuvenated hands.