BOOM—!
As the [Supreme Indulgence], worth two and a half million credits, turned to ash inside Diogenes' lantern, a visible golden shockwave erupted with John at its center.
It wasn't destructive energy; it was pure, unleashed "Merit."
The golden light didn't dissipate. Instead, as if possessed by a spirit of its own, it drilled into the phones, bank accounts, and even the souls of everyone present.
[System Notification: You have received a "Rob the Rich, Feed the Poor" Random Red Packet.]
[Source: Eternal Charity Foundation.]
[Amount: 5.000 Credits / 10.000 Credits / Medical Expense Reimbursement...]
In that moment, it wasn't just the security guards and waiters in the banquet hall. Across the entire Lower Sector of New Babylon, the phones of countless poor people worrying about tomorrow's bread lit up simultaneously.
This was John’s revenge. He turned the scrap of paper that only served to let the rich sin with peace of mind into real, life-saving cash for the poor.
"BWAHAHA! Burns well! Burns bright as hell!"
Diogenes watched the flames and let out one final, manic laugh. His body began to turn transparent—the signal that the summoning time was up.
"Kid, remember this feeling."
The old madman held up his extinguished lantern, giving John a deep look before he vanished.
"In this world full of lies, only when you possess nothing are you truly free."
The light faded.
Diogenes was gone. But the mess he left behind remained.
The silence in the banquet hall lasted exactly three seconds.
When the tycoons snapped out of the shame inflicted by the "Light of Truth," when they saw their account balances plummeting wildly, and when they realized the Indulgence they treated as a protective talisman had turned into a pile of ash...
The shame instantly converted into a rage ten thousand times more violent than before.
"My money! My money is gone!"
"That lunatic burned my ticket to Heaven!"
"Kill him! He's a bandit! A terrorist!"
The Foundation Chairman crawled up from the floor. His foundation-caked face was streaked with tears and sweat, looking like a melting clown. He pointed a trembling finger at the young man still standing in the pose of burning the paper on stage, his voice screeching into a broken falsetto:
"Seize the ringleader! He’s the Necromancer John Doe!"
"All losses will be counted on his head! I want him hacked into pieces!"
The automatic defense system's turrets swiveled again, locking onto John. This time, without Diogenes' suppression, the security guards reacted too. They charged forward with bloodshot eyes—they had been forced to transfer money too just now, and although it wasn't much, the humiliation of being played made them lose their rationality.
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"Boss! Time to bail!"
Bone threw away the deformed serving trays, took huge strides over, and scooped John up under his arm like a chick.
"Grace! Cut the power!" John roared.
"You got it! God's buying another round!"
Grace’s holographic avatar flashed on John’s wristband.
Snap!
The entire Cloud Garden Hotel instantly plunged into darkness. Only the emergency lights flickered with a ghastly red glow.
Using the chaos, Bone smashed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the banquet hall.
"Woohoo—!"
One man, one skeleton, and one soul leaped from the highest point of New Babylon into the boundless night sky.
...
Thirty minutes later. The edge of District 13.
John lay behind a dumpster reeking of rot, gasping for air. His tuxedo was shredded, his face covered in soot, and the wound on the back of his hand was still oozing blood.
"Did we lose them?" Bone peeked his head out to check.
"For now." John looked at the iPad in his hand, still hot to the touch. The screen displayed the results of his recent operation:
[Mission Complete: For the People]
[Merit Income: +50.000 (Automatically deducted for debt interest and current summon consumption)]
[Current Status: Extreme Danger]
"Fifty thousand..." John gave a bitter laugh. "Just enough to pay the interest."
But he didn't regret it. That moment just now was the most satisfying moment of his life.
BEEP—
Suddenly, over the entire city—from the dazzling holographic billboards above to the broken public TVs in the Lower Sector, and even John’s own phone screen—everything lit up at the exact same time.
It was a Maximum Level Alert from the Necromancers' Guild.
A giant mugshot of John (the goofy ID photo from his Academy days) was projected into the night sky. In this city that never saw daylight, it was blindingly harsh.
[URGENT WANTED ORDER]
[Target: John Doe (Class E Personnel)]
[Crimes: Extreme Terrorism, Malicious Destruction of Public Property, Illegal Use of Black Magic, Robbery of Charity Funds.]
[Bounty: 500 New Credits (Dead or Alive)]
"500 bucks?" Bone paused. "Boss, are they looking down on you? That Indulgence just auctioned for two and a half million."
"No." John’s face darkened, his voice trembling slightly. "You don't understand."
If the bounty was five million, only professional bounty hunters would dare take the contract. Ordinary people would hide far away from a criminal of that level.
But five hundred...
In the Lower Sector, five hundred credits was enough to feed a family of four for a month.
Enough to buy a vial of cheap painkillers.
Enough for a junkie to buy a whole night of happiness.
This was a price that dragged John down to a level where "anyone can bully him."
This was a price that made everyone feel like they "had a chance."
"Run!" John scrambled up, dragging Bone toward the alleyway.
But it was too late.
At the mouth of the alley, several vagrants in ragged clothes were huddled around a burning oil drum for warmth. Their eyes, originally cloudy and dull, suddenly lit up the moment they saw the wanted poster.
That light was exactly the same as the greedy look in the eyes of the tycoons at the banquet hall just now.
"Hey, isn't that John?" An old man missing his front teeth stood up, holding a half-eaten, moldy burger.
"Looks like him... the kid who lives at the clinic."
"Five hundred bucks..." Another young man with a broken leg licked his cracked lips and pulled a rusty switchblade from his pocket.
They knew John.
They might have even received John’s help before (drunk Hua Tuo’s medicine, or just received that random red packet).
But in the face of a five-hundred-credit bounty, that thin gratitude evaporated like steam.
"Brother John." The old man slowly circled over, a fawning yet murderous smile on his face. "Lend us your head, will ya? Since you're wanted anyway, why not help us out? My grandson... hasn't had milk in days."
"Back off!" Bone stepped in front of John, his joints cracking loudly. "Who dares touch my Boss?"
"It's just a skeleton rack! What are you afraid of? Smash it and sell it for scrap metal!"
Someone shouted from the crowd.
From the dark corners around them, more and more figures stepped out.
There was the dishwasher who was usually submissive, the neighbor who always smiled and said hello, even the vendor John had once helped drive away an evil spirit.
They held steel pipes, bricks, and broken bottles.
There was no hatred in their eyes, only a numbness and madness driven to the extreme by life.
That was the madness of tearing a fellow human being apart for five hundred bucks.
"RUN!!!"
John roared, shoving Bone aside and sprinting desperately into the depths of the darkness.
He ran fast.
But his heart grew colder and colder.
He thought he was fighting for these people. He thought that by burning the rich man's money and distributing it to them, he could exchange it for even a tiny bit of kindness.
But he was wrong.
Moriarty was right. In the face of absolute poverty, morality is a luxury.
In this rotten District 13. there was no "solidarity among the poor."
There was only—
People eating people.
[System Status]:
Physical Realm (Royal Road): Connection Unstable / Paused.
Spirit Realm (Patreon): 20+ Chapters Online / Stable.
[Link]
