[The Abyssal Academy - Floor Two Arena]
The Floor Two Arena looked like a tragic, neon-lit casino. The sand was littered with hundreds of useless wooden spoons, rusted horseshoes, and signed portraits of Victor Thorne.
High Commander Kael's hands were shaking violently. His pristine golden armor was dull and covered in sweat. His men were groaning in agony behind him, waiting for the miracle healing potion that would never come.
"Just one more pull," Kael whispered, his eyes bloodshot and unblinking as he stared at the flashing rainbow lights of the Premium Loot Box. "The Goddess will provide. The SSR is guaranteed this time."
He slammed the platinum Kingdom Treasury card against the glowing scanner.
BZZZT.
The obnoxious, cheerful chimes of the gacha machine died instantly. The neon screen flashed a harsh, glaring red.
[ERROR: Insufficient Funds.]
[Transaction Declined. Kingdom Treasury Balance: 0 Gold.]
Kael froze. The air in his lungs vanished. "No. No, that's impossible. That card holds the sovereign wealth of the entire Holy Kingdom! There were tens of millions of gold pieces!"
Up in the Security Control Room, Victor Thorne took a slow, deeply satisfying sip of his black coffee.
"The house always wins, Commander," Victor pressed the intercom button, his voice booming out of the hidden speakers in the arena. "You have successfully liquidated your nation's GDP on a zero-point-zero-zero-one percent drop rate. Your Kingdom is officially bankrupt."
Down in the sand, Kael fell to his knees, dropping the platinum card. The psychological weight of what he had just done crushed his heroic spirit entirely. He hadn't just lost a battle; he had financially ruined millions of innocent citizens back home.
"You demon..." Kael sobbed, burying his face in his hands. "My men are dying. We have nothing left."
"Not entirely true," Victor's voice echoed coldly. "You still possess physical assets."
The massive iron doors on the far side of the arena groaned open. The Class-A Chimera stomped into the sand, wearing its high-vis yellow vest. Behind it walked Seraphina and a team of fifty Orcs holding large canvas sacks.
"The Pantheon Group is not without mercy," Victor announced. "I am willing to offer you a Medical Bailout Package. I will provide Grade-A healing elixirs for your wounded. In exchange, you will surrender all your blessed armor, silver broadswords, and holy relics as collateral."
Kael looked up, his face pale with horror. "You want to strip us of our holy arms? We are the Vanguard! We cannot surrender our gear!"
"Then your men bleed out in the sand," Victor countered flawlessly. "I am giving you five seconds. Five. Four. Three..."
"I accept!" Kael screamed, his voice breaking. "I accept the terms!"
"Excellent," Victor released the intercom button and turned to Seraphina. "Process the repossession. I want them stripped down to their tunics. Once they are healed, throw them out the back exit."
Elara, standing in the corner of the control room, watched tears stream down her Commander's face as the Orcs stripped the legendary Holy Vanguard of their sacred armor, tossing the priceless artifacts into dirty canvas sacks.
"You didn't just defeat them," Elara whispered, completely horrified by the sheer efficiency of the extraction. "You took their pride. You took their faith."
"I took their capital, Elara," Victor adjusted his midnight-blue cuffs. "Pride and faith are just the packaging."