The neon lights of the city felt different now. To Vikram, they weren't just lights; they were flickering pulses of energy, each one carrying a microscopic debt to the power grid. As he walked away from the alley where Shera lay broken, the world felt like it was made of glass—fragile, transparent, and utterly transactional.
He reached his apartment building—a crumbling structure of peeling paint and rusted iron railings. Usually, this place felt like home. Tonight, it felt like a graveyard of secrets.
[Skill Active: Eye of the Creditor]
[Processing Environmental Data...]
As he climbed the stairs, he passed his neighbor, Mrs. Kapoor, a kind woman who had often given him extra bread when he was starving. He looked at her, expecting to see a heart of gold. Instead, a scarlet text floated above her head.
[Target: Sarita Kapoor]
[Debt: 15 Years of Unspoken Betrayal / $12,000 Embezzlement from a Dead Friend's Trust]
Vikram stumbled, his hand gripping the banister so hard the wood groaned. The woman who smiled at him every morning was carrying a weight of theft that rivaled the thugs in the street. The System didn't care about "kindness." It only cared about the balance.
"Vikram? Are you alright, beta?" she asked, her voice sweet and concerned.
Vikram couldn't look her in the eye. "I'm... I'm fine, Aunty. Just tired." He hurried past her, the golden gear in his iris spinning faster. The realization hit him like a physical blow: with this power, he could never look at another human being and see a person. He would only see a ledger.
He entered his small, dimly lit apartment. His younger sister, Anjali, was sitting at the wooden table, hunched over her textbooks under a buzzing fluorescent bulb. She was the only reason he had survived the slums this long.
"Bhai? You're late," she said without looking up. "The landlord came by again. He said if we don't pay by tomorrow—"
"We'll pay, Anjali," Vikram interrupted, his voice thick. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, showing her the bank notification.
She gasped, her eyes widening as she saw the figures. "Five thousand dollars? Vikram, where did this... how?"
"I found a way to settle some old accounts," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. But as he looked at her, his heart stopped.
A faint, shimmering gold text appeared above his sister's head.
[Target: Anjali Rai]
[Debt: 3 Years of Stolen Health / Price: A Soul's Promise]
"No," Vikram whispered. "Not her. Not Anjali."
The System's cold, robotic voice echoed in his skull.
[Warning: Debt Detected. The Target has traded a portion of her 'Future Vitality' to ensure 'Host's Survival' three years ago. Current Interest: 40% of her remaining lifespan.]
The room began to spin. Three years ago... that was when Vikram had fallen deathly ill with a fever no doctor could explain. He had recovered overnight, a miracle they both celebrated. Now he knew. Anjali hadn't found a cheap medicine; she had made a deal. With whom? The System didn't say.
"Bhai, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" Anjali stood up, walking toward him with a worried expression.
Vikram backed away, his back hitting the cold door. "Who did you talk to, Anjali? Three years ago, when I was sick... who did you meet?"
Anjali froze. The color drained from her face, making the golden text above her glow even brighter. "I... I don't know what you're talking about. I just prayed, Vikram."
[Ding!]
[Deception Detected. Debt Interest increasing due to 'Hidden Truth'.]
"Stop lying!" Vikram roared, and for a second, his shadow expanded across the room, turning into a swirling black mist that mimicked the smoke from the image.
Anjali fell back, terrified. Vikram saw the fear in her eyes and felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him. He was becoming the monster he was supposed to hunt.
Before he could apologize, a heavy thud echoed from the front door. It wasn't a knock; it was the sound of someone—or something—trying to break through the reality of the room itself.
The air grew icy. The windows frosted over in seconds.
[Alert! High-Level Creditor approaching.]
[Status: The Original Owner of Anjali's Debt has arrived to collect.]
The door didn't open. It simply dissolved into shadows. Standing there was not a man, but a silhouette draped in a charcoal coat exactly like Vikram's, but his face was a void—a swirling galaxy of debt and stars.
"The boy collector," the figure spoke, its voice a thousand whispers. "You've been busy with small change like Shera. But you forgot one thing, Vikram. In this world, everything is borrowed. Even your sister's life."
The figure stepped forward, and the 'Eye of the Creditor' in Vikram's head screamed in pain. This wasn't a target. This was the Boss.
"I am the Senior Auditor," the shadow said, extending a hand that looked like it was made of smoke. "And I believe your family is behind on their payments."
Vikram stood between the Auditor and his sister, his right side beginning to disintegrate into that familiar black smoke. He didn't have enough power. He had only collected $5,000, and the debt for a life was millions.
"I'll pay it," Vikram growled, his hand catching fire with a neeli (blue) electrical aura. "Give me time. I'll collect from every scum in this city. I'll give you a mountain of souls, just stay away from her."
The Auditor paused. "A mountain, you say? Very well. I shall give you a contract. Seven days. Collect a debt of $1,000,000 in vitality, or I take her soul as interest."
[New Quest: The Million Dollar Harvest]
[Time Limit: 168 Hours]
[Penalty: Permanent Loss of Anjali Rai]
The Auditor vanished, leaving the door intact as if nothing had happened. Anjali collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Vikram stood in the middle of the room, the golden gear in his eye spinning at a violent speed. He looked at his hands. He needed more. He needed to be faster, colder, and more ruthless than anyone in the history of the System.
He didn't just need to be a collector. He needed to be the God of Debt.