Three days. Seventy-two earthly hours. In Diyu, where time flowed like thick molasses, this could be an instant or an eternity. Lin Wei and Xiao Bai stood before an elevator. Not an ordinary one. This one.
"A freight mining elevator for transporting containers of concentrated negative karma," Xiao Bai muttered, peering into the black, bottomless shaft. "It leads to the Lower Enclaves. Where souls awaiting... reformatting are kept."
"And where we'll find traces of the 'donor'," Lin finished. His gaze was cold and focused. After the conversation with Yama Heng, fear had dulled, replaced by icy resolve. He understood they were being led. But he intended to walk first.
The elevator, creaking and crackling, began its descent. Light from the upper hatch quickly disappeared, first replaced by the dim glow of bioluminescent fungi on the shaft walls, then by complete, oppressive darkness. The air grew thicker, heavier, smelling of oxidized metal and something sweetly rotten.
"Why here specifically?" Lin asked to drown out the growing roar from the depths. "If the 'donor' is an important personage, his debt should be upstairs, in the privileged archives."
"Because the debt itself is written off," Xiao Bai's voice in the darkness sounded unnaturally loud. "But its source... the sin that spawned it... could have been so heavy that even after write-off, it left a residue. Like radiation. Such residues are brought here for processing. These vaults don't hold souls, but pure, unprocessed clumps of karmic 'filth'. Informational noise. If we can find the residue belonging to this specific debt, we can trace its origin. Learn what sin was behind it."
The elevator stopped with a deafening clang. The doors slid apart, revealing a landscape having nothing in common with the bureaucratic order of the upper levels.
It was a boundless warehouse. But instead of shelves, there were crystalline structures resembling giant black coral or frozen lightning. Inside them pulsed clumps of dark light. Between the structures shuffled ugly, distorted beings — neither spirits nor guards. Warehouse-worker spirits, forever disfigured by proximity to pure karmic filth. They carried capsules of shimmering darkness on their backs, poured them into the crystals, scraped out the spent slag.
There were no queues, no holograms here. Only primitive, hard labor and an all-consuming roar — the howl of millions of unabsolved sins.
"Look for the dispatcher," Lin said, fighting the nauseating pressure emanating from everything around them. "The one who logs what was brought where."
They moved along the wall, trying not to attract the workers' attention. They seemed to notice nothing but their burdens. In the distance, on an improvised dais made of compressed capsules, they saw a hut cobbled together from broken server rack pieces and bone plates. From a chimney made of an old blunderbuss barrel, acrid smoke billowed.
Behind a counter made of a stone slab sat a figure in a tattered cloak sewn from pieces of judges' robes. On its head — a helmet glued together from turtle shells and LED screens showing scrolling data lines. This was the Dispatcher. The Keeper of Filth.
As they approached, it looked up. No face was visible under the helmet, only three lenses of different colors focusing on them with an unpleasant whirring.
"Clean ones," a mechanical voice grated. "From above. Not clients. What?"
"Information," Lin said, placing his service seal on the counter. Its light momentarily pushed back the surrounding shadows. "We're looking for a residue. Attachment code: 14-9-22."
The lenses whirred faster. The Dispatcher slowly shook its head.
"Written off. Clean. Not in registry."
"Not in the registry. In the waste. The residue left after the write-off. It should have been brought here for disposal. Within the last seven earthly days."
The Dispatcher froze. Then, with one sharp movement, it extended a cloaked arm — instead of a hand, a complex mechanism with tentacle-wires. It plunged them directly into the stone counter. The stone came alive, displaying an interface — an insane mix of cuneiform and binary code.
"Query... exists. Batch 445-Delta. Received yesterday. Purification Sector 7. Unstable. Marked with warning: 'Source — upper echelon. Caution required during recycling.'"
Lin Wei's heart beat faster. Upper echelon.
"We want to see it."
"Not allowed. Isolated. Dangerous. Even for ones like you."
"We're already in danger," Lin's voice didn't waver. "Show us Purification Sector 7. We'll take the risk ourselves."
The Dispatcher whirred again, as if weighing. Its tentacles twitched, and a thin plate with a burned-in map slid out from the counter.
"Sector 7. Path through old ventilation shafts. No guards. They... don't like light there."
It leaned back, its interest clearly faded. The deal was done.
Following the map, they delved into a labyrinth of giant pipes and half-destroyed energy conduits. The pressure increased. The air became so thick it felt like they had to push through it. Sounds distorted, as if coming from underwater.
"I can feel it," Xiao Bai moaned, holding his head. "This isn't just a residue... It's pain. Someone's ancient, unbearable pain."
Purification Sector 7 turned out not to be a room, but a cavern. In the center, on a pedestal of black quartz, hovered a sphere. It was opaque, matte black, but waves emanated from it. Not light waves. Reality-distorting ones. The stone beneath their feet frosted over, then cracked, then momentarily became transparent, showing nightmarish visions of others' memories.
This was the residue. Concentrated pain, shame, and despair from the sin that once spawned an 87-unit karmic debt.
Lin Wei, gritting his teeth, stepped forward. The waves hit him, trying to penetrate his consciousness. Images swam before his eyes:
A dark office in ancient style. Two figures. One — in the luxurious robes of a high Diyu official. The other — a woman, kneeling, pleading. The official extends a scroll to her. She recoils in horror. Then a sharp gesture. A seal. And a feeling of icy betrayal so strong it makes you want to tear your own soul apart...
"Breach of fidelity oath... family vow..." Xiao Bai's voice broke through the roar in his ears. He was on his knees, blood flowing from his nose. "This isn't just infidelity. This is... an oath sworn not on earth. An oath sworn here. In Diyu. Between souls. Someone from the upper administration broke a fidelity oath to their... soulmate? Or partner? And is trying to shift the blame onto a mortal soul!"
Lin Wei, overcoming the unbearable pressure, raised his hand with the seal. He couldn't touch the sphere. But he could touch the pedestal. He struck the quartz with his seal.
"Defender in case #777! Demand identification of the residue source! Show me its original attachment!"
The sphere roared. The black surface churned, and within it, as in a mirror, a reflection flashed for a moment — not a face, but a... title. An ancient, complex glyph framed by symbols of power. And beneath it — a department name.
"REINCARNATION QUOTA AND FATE-WEAVING ADMINISTRATION. DEPUTY HEAD OF JUDICIAL PLANNING: YAMA LUN."
Yama Lun. Brother of Yama Heng. Or his direct superior. A high-ranking official responsible for deciding who gets reborn and in what body.
The puzzle pieces fell into place with a deafening clang. Yama Lun broke an oath. Committed a grave transgression. To avoid the karmic retribution that could cost him his position and power, he used an ancient, forbidden ritual. With the help of his subordinate, Yama Heng, he reassigned the debt to a random, vulnerable soul — Zhang Mei. And Yama Heng, to hide his brother's (or superior's) crime, covered up all traces.
The sphere, having divulged the secret, began to pulse violently. The waves became ragged, chaotic. Cracks appeared around them — not just in the stone, but in reality itself.
"It's unstable! It's going to collapse! Run!" Xiao Bai screamed.
They rushed back through the pipe. Behind them, the tunnel crumbled with a roar, consumed by the growing black sphere of uncontrolled karmic energy. The crash was so loud it seemed the entire lower level was collapsing.
Emerging into the open space of the warehouse, they turned. In place of Sector 7 gaped a black hole, slowly, as if healing, disappearing, leaving behind only scorched emptiness and silence.
They had found the source. They had learned the name. But now they knew too much.
The hum in the air was replaced by a new sound — measured, heavy clanking. Not workers. Armor.
From the shadows between the crystals, they emerged. Not guards. Another kind. Heavier, quieter, with the emblem of the Reincarnation Administration on their pauldrons. The personal guard of the high officials.
There were five of them. They blocked all escape routes.
Before them hovered a small holographic projector. It displayed a face — that same parchment-like one with tired eyes. Yama Heng.
"Defender Lin Wei," his voice rang out, cold and even. "You have violated the extension terms. Unauthorized entry into a restricted zone. Provoked an incident with unstable karmic material. Your authority is suspended. And you yourself are detained for an internal investigation into abuse of official position."
Lin Wei, breathing heavily, looked at the projector. He saw the truth behind these words: You came too close. Now you will be removed. By the rules.
"You have no proof of our unauthorized entry," he said, though he knew it was a lie. In this place, everything was monitored.
"Proof will be found," Yama Heng simply replied. "In Diyu, it always is. When needed."
The guards took a step forward. Their weapons — not scanners, but something like curved blades made of condensed darkness — flickered.
Xiao Bai shrank into a ball.
Lin Wei looked at his seal. It still glowed. 0.5/1000.
He couldn't let this end here. Not after they had come so close.
"Yama Heng!" he shouted, not at the projector, but into the void, knowing he was heard. "Arrest me — and everything will come out! I copied all the data, including Yama Lun's name, to an... external buffer!"
He was bluffing. Desperately. But he saw the projector's lenses focus on him more sharply for a moment.
"What buffer?" the judge's voice lost its evenness.
"To the pending buffer of Zhang Mei's soul!" Lin Wei parried. "It's attached to her case file! If anything happens to me, at the next hearing, when her case is reopened, this data will automatically enter the General Registry as an attachment to the defender's complaint! Do you want your superior's name to surface in an official protocol?"
Silence hung like a taut string. Even the guards slowed their advance. They awaited orders.
On the projector, Yama Heng's face was inscrutable. He was calculating something quickly.
"...That's a bluff," he finally said. But uncertainty tinged his voice.
"Check," Lin challenged. "Send a query to the archive of case #777 right now. Request the list of attachments. But know this: if you do, the query will remain in the logs. And if I'm right... you'll have to explain to your superiors why you were inquiring about compromising materials."
It was a game of chicken. And Lin Wei had gone all in.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty.
Finally, Yama Heng slowly nodded.
"Your zeal... is commendable. And extremely irritating. Guards, stand down."
The blades of darkness faded. The guards, without a word, dissolved into the shadows as silently as they had appeared.
The judge's hologram addressed Lin Wei again.
"You've won another round, insect. But remember: the higher you climb, the more painful the fall. Case #777 will be heard in two days. Be ready. Or prepare for erasure."
The projector went dark.
Lin Wei sank to one knee, crushing fatigue washing over him. Xiao Bai crawled over.
"You... you transferred the data? Really?"
"No," Lin admitted hoarsely. "But now I know exactly what we need to do. The real battle won't be in the archives. It will be in the courtroom. In two days. And we won't need evidence. We'll need a witness. One who saw everything."
He raised his head, looking at the black void left by the residue.
"We need to find the soul to whom Yama Lun swore that fidelity oath. His 'partner'. Only she can tell the truth and bring them both down."
The task had become even more impossible. But the path was clear.