The "Bad Debt" sector did not smell of death. It smelled of ozone, old copper, and the static-heavy scent of a television left on a dead channel.
Han Jue sat on a jagged outcrop of "Compressed History"—a geological formation made of fossilized scrolls, hard drives, and crystalline memory-banks from civilizations that had failed their final audit. Above him, the seven dying suns hung like dim, red embers in a sky that was the color of a bruised lung.
He looked down at his sister. Han Ling was still unconscious, her breathing shallow. Her Chancellor of the Abyss robes were no longer shimmering; they were coated in a fine, grey dust that seemed to eat the very light around it.
[Warning: Ambient Entropy levels are at 94%.]
[Status: Unregistered Resident of the 'Void-Dump'.]
[Your 'Life-Force' is currently being used as collateral to prevent immediate erasure.]
"Collateral," Han Jue whispered, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering over pavement. He adjusted his charcoal suit, which was now frayed at the sleeves. "Even in the trash, they're still charging me interest."
He checked the Gavel of the Void. The crack down its center was glowing with a faint, sickly green light. It was no longer a tool of judgment; it was a Geiger counter for the end of the world.
The Assessment of the Worthless
Han Jue stood up, his joints popping with a loud, metallic clack. He activated Audit Vision, but the world didn't turn into a spreadsheet. It turned into a graveyard.
Every rock, every scrap of metal, and every gust of wind carried a "Negative Valuation."
Rock (Left): Defunct Capital of the Star-Sailor Guild. Value: -450,000 UM.
Wind (West): The Last Breath of a Dying Nebula. Value: -12,000,000 UM.
Han Jue (Self): Fugitive Auditor. Value: [CALCULATION ERROR: DEBT EXCEEDS LOCAL CAPACITY]
"If everything has a negative value," Han Jue muttered, pulling out his silver-tipped pen, "then the only way to gain wealth is to subtract."
He knelt by a piece of discarded machinery—a "Logic-Engine" from a Cycle-6 civilization. It was rusted, its gears fused together by the weight of its own failed predictions.
"Audit: ASSET DEPRECIATION!"
He struck the rusted engine with the cracked Gavel.
Instead of an explosion, there was a sharp inhale. The engine didn't break; it simplified. The rust fell away, the complex gears dissolved, and a tiny, glowing spark of pure "Potential" floated into the air.
[Collection Successful: +0.0001 Soul Points.]
[Note: You are 'Scavenging' the remains of the universe.]
"Jue?"
Han Ling stirred, her violet eyes opening slowly. She looked at the seven suns, then at the grey wasteland, and finally at her brother. She didn't scream. She didn't panic. She simply sat up and dusted off her robes.
"The Tribunal's security deposit was a bit steep, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice raspy but steady.
"We're in the basement, Ling-er," Han Jue said, helping her up. "The place where the math doesn't work. We have three keys, a cracked gavel, and a planet that's currently being 'recapitalized' by a god of light."
"Then we better find a way to balance the books," she said, her Chancellor's eyes flickering. "Because I can feel the 'Void-Erosion' starting to nibble at my soul. If we don't find a 'Solvent Zone' in the next six hours, we're going to become part of the scenery."
The Sovereign of Echoes
They began to walk toward the obsidian gate in the distance—the Gateway to the Source. But the "Bad Debt" sector was not a straight line. It was a labyrinth of folding space and discarded timelines.
As they crossed a bridge made of frozen lightning, a figure blocked their path.
It was a man—or the shell of one. He wore armor made of translucent glass, and within the glass, thousands of tiny faces were screaming in a silent, eternal loop. He held a staff that ended in a tuning fork, which vibrated with a frequency that made Han Jue's teeth ache.
[Target: Moros, The Sovereign of Echoes (Cycle 4)]
[Level: ??? (N/A in this Sector)]
[Current Debt: TOTAL OBLIVION]
"Stop, Auditor," Moros said. His voice didn't come from his mouth; it was a layering of a thousand echoes of the same sentence, spoken across eons. "You carry the scent of the 'Current Cycle.' You carry the arrogance of those who still believe the math can be saved."
Han Jue stepped forward, his hand on his Gavel. "Moros. Cycle 4. The Sovereign who tried to turn the entire universe into a single, harmonic frequency to avoid entropy. Your audit failed because your 'Song' was too expensive to maintain."
"It was beautiful," the Echoes replied, the glass armor shimmering. "But beauty is a luxury the Void cannot afford. I have sat on this bridge for six cycles, watching the 'Sovereigns' pass by. Most become dust. Some become shadows. None reach the Gate."
"I'm not 'most' Sovereigns," Han Jue said, his eyes narrowing. "I'm the one who sued the Court. Now, get off the bridge, or I'll be forced to Liquidate your Memories."
Moros laughed—a sound of a thousand glass bells shattering. "Liquidate me? I am already at zero! You cannot take from one who has nothing left to give!"
"That's where you're wrong," Han Jue said, his pen moving in the air. "In accounting, there's a concept called a Tax Loss Carryforward. You have so much negative value that you're actually an Asset to someone who needs to offset their own gains."
The Fifth Key: Rust and Resignation
Han Jue didn't attack Moros with force. He used the Grey Key—the Key of Neutrality.
He held the key aloft, and its grey light washed over the bridge. The "Echoes" within Moros's armor began to settle. The screaming faces slowed down, their features becoming distinct.
"You're tired of the noise, aren't you, Moros?" Han Jue asked, his voice soft. "You've been echoing the same failure for millions of years. You're not a guardian. You're a Stuck Record."
"Audit: RECONCILIATION!"
Han Jue struck the tuning fork with the Gavel.
The vibration didn't intensify; it cancelled out. The thousands of voices merged into a single, perfect note—a note of Silence.
Moros's glass armor shattered, falling to the bridge like diamonds. The man beneath the armor—a tired, ancient king—looked at Han Jue with eyes that were finally clear.
"The silence..." Moros whispered. "I had forgotten what it felt like to not be heard."
His body began to dissolve into grey mist, but as he vanished, the tuning fork remained. It began to twist and reshape itself, the bronze turning into a dull, rusted iron.
[You have recovered the Fifth 'Asset of the Source'.]
[The Key of Rust (Key of Resignation).]
[Current Key Progress: 5/12]
"He didn't want to fight," Han Ling said, looking at the rusted key. "He just wanted someone to acknowledge that his debt was unpayable."
"The Void is a lonely place, Ling-er," Han Jue said, picking up the Key of Rust. It was heavy, and it smelled of old rain. "Most of the 'Monsters' here are just people who are waiting for someone to sign their death certificate so they can finally stop existing."
The Equation of the Exit
As they crossed the bridge, the Gateway to the Source loomed larger. It wasn't just a door; it was a massive, obsidian monolith covered in a language of white light that moved like a liquid.
But as Han Jue stepped off the bridge, he felt a sudden, sharp pull in his chest.
[Warning: Earth's 'Recapitalization' has reached Stage 2.]
[The Sovereign of Light has begun the 'Harvest of Memory'.]
[If the Harvest completes, your 'Audit' will be erased from history.]
He saw a vision of Rome. Julian, the Sovereign of Light, was standing in the center of the world, his six wings casting a golden shadow over the city. But he wasn't killing the people. He was using a massive, golden harp to pull the "Experience" out of their souls.
"He's rewriting the ledger," Han Jue hissed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the Gavel. "He's making it so that the 'Auditor' never existed. If the people forget me, my Authority as a Sovereign vanishes, and I'll be erased from the Void."
$$\text{Existence} = \sum (\text{Perception}) \times \text{Asset\_Value}$$
"If Perception goes to zero, the whole equation collapses," Han Ling said, her face pale. "Jue, we have to get to the Gate now. If we can't access the Source, we can't stop the Harvest."
"Then we stop walking," Han Jue said, his eyes glowing with a dark, witty fire.
"What do you mean?"
"Walking is for debtors," Han Jue said. He took the five keys—Black, White, Grey, Rust, and the Fragment of the Master Ledger—and slammed them into the Gavel of the Void.
The Gavel didn't break. It Evolved.
[Item: The Auditor's Gavel (Rank: SOURCE-TIER)]
[New Skill: 'Direct Entry' - Move through the Void via the shortest distance between two debts.]
"Ling-er, hold on," Han Jue said.
He didn't swing the Gavel at an enemy. He swung it at the Distance itself.
"AUDIT: THE OVERHEAD COST OF SPACE!"
The grey wasteland didn't just move; it was deleted. In a single, reality-bending strike, the bridge and the Gateway were brought together.
They stood before the Obsidian Gate. It was a hundred feet tall, and at its center was a circular indentation with twelve slots.
Five were filled by the keys Han Jue held.
[Gateway Status: 41% Unlocked.]
[Warning: The 'Master Creditor' has noticed your 'Direct Entry'.]
[The Gatekeeper is arriving.]
A shadow fell over the Gate. It wasn't Moros. It wasn't Lucian. It was a creature made of pure, solidified Law—the First Auditor, the one who had written the very first contract in the universe.
"You're early, Han Jue," the First Auditor said, its voice sounding like the grinding of tectonic plates. "And you're five keys short of a conversation."
Han Jue looked at the First Auditor, then at the seven dying suns.
"I've always been good at working under a deficit," Han Jue said, raising his Gavel. "Now, let's talk about the 'Late Fees' you've been charging the universe."