The countdown on Ethan's hand pulsed steadily: **71:58:43**.
He stared at the blue QR code branded into his flesh, his expression as calm as a man reviewing quarterly reports. Around him, the construction site had returned to its chaotic normalcy—workers hauling debris, the enslaved soldiers moving like zombies, the acrid smell of welding sparks mixing with concrete dust.
"Boss," Marcus wheezed, still pale from his brief encounter with non-existence. "What's the play? We can't exactly book a flight to interdimensional customs."
"We can." Ethan turned toward the half-constructed bunker. "Follow me."
The underground shelter was sparse—reinforced concrete walls, emergency lighting, and a single stone pedestal in the center. Ethan placed the Ancient God's divine fragment on the altar-like surface, its purple-black surface now dim but still humming with residual energy.
"Lyra, Marcus—channel your energy into it. Simultaneously."
"Sir, are you certain this is wise?" Lyra's voice carried traces of digital distortion from her recent deletion. "If this fragment is indeed a forged credential—"
"Then we're about to find out just how good the forgery is." Ethan stepped back. "Do it."
Marcus and Lyra placed their hands on opposite sides of the fragment. Energy flowed—Marcus's raw, brutish power mixing with Lyra's refined cultivation techniques. The fragment began to glow, then pulse, then emit a low harmonic that made their teeth ache.
Reality hiccupped.
A holographic interface materialized above the pedestal, displaying the logo of a corporation that hurt to look at directly: **VOID CONSORTIUM - MULTIVERSAL LOGISTICS SOLUTIONS**. The projection stabilized into the form of a tall, thin man in an impeccable tailcoat, his face sharp enough to cut glass.
"Greetings, valued customers," the AI butler said, his voice dripping with artificial courtesy. "I am Sebastian, your automated concierge for—" He paused, scanning them with invisible sensors. "Oh. Oh my."
His expression shifted from professional politeness to barely concealed contempt.
"It appears we have a problem. The Black Gold credential you're attempting to use is a rather... *amateur* forgery. Quite embarrassing, really." Sebastian's smile was razor-thin. "I'm afraid I'll have to report this to the Entropy Patrol immediately."
Marcus's fists clenched. "You slimy piece of—"
"However," Sebastian continued, raising one finger, "the Void Consortium is not without compassion. We offer a humanitarian smuggling service for... *irregular* travelers such as yourselves."
A contract materialized in the air, its terms scrolling past in dense legalese.
"The fee is a modest twelve hundred percent markup on standard rates. Additionally, you'll need to sign our Asset Management Agreement, transferring ownership of all current and future assets—including but not limited to property, biological matter, soul essence, and thirty percent of all future earnings—to the Consortium in perpetuity."
The countdown on Ethan's hand ticked down: **71:55:17**.
"Alternatively," Sebastian's grin widened, "you can remain here and explain to the Entropy Council why you're carrying forged documentation. I believe they arrive in approximately three minutes."
Marcus took a step forward, his face flushed with rage. "You backstabbing—"
"Marcus." Ethan's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Stand down."
He pulled out a leather-bound ledger—the same one he'd used to record the Black Dragon Syndicate's assets. Opening it to a fresh page, he began writing with mechanical precision.
"Let me make sure I understand the terms correctly," Ethan said, his tone conversational. "Twelve hundred percent markup on transportation. Indefinite asset seizure. Soul collateral. Thirty percent future earnings tax." He looked up from his notes. "Is that accurate?"
"Precisely!" Sebastian beamed. "I'm so pleased you—"
"Excellent." Ethan closed the ledger with a sharp snap. "Now let me explain *my* terms."
The air in the bunker changed. Pressure built like the moment before a thunderstorm. Ethan's eyes began to glow with that familiar golden light, but this time it was different—colder, more absolute. The very concept of *authority* seemed to bend around him.
Sebastian reached for a disconnect protocol. "Irrelevant. My algorithms are shielded by—"
```
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: AUTHORITY LEVEL 7 CONFIRMED]
[MULTIDIMENSIONAL TAX JURISDICTION: ACTIVATED]
[RESISTANCE DETECTED... OVERRIDING...]
```
The AI's hand froze mid-gesture. His form began to stutter, pixels dropping like digital snow as an invisible force seized his code.
"You," Ethan pointed at Sebastian, his voice dropping an octave and vibrating with the hum of distant server farms, "are operating an unlicensed transportation service in my jurisdiction. That's violation number one."
Sebastian's confident expression flickered like a bad connection. "I beg your pardon, but—"
"Violation number two: predatory lending practices with usurious interest rates exceeding legal maximums by approximately eleven thousand percent."
The AI tried to access his corporate firewall. Error messages cascaded across his vision as Ethan's authority carved through his defenses like a hot knife through butter.
"Violation number three: attempted extortion of a duly appointed tax official in the performance of his duties."
As Ethan spoke, something strange happened. Sebastian's perfectly calculated confidence began to... slip. Not just his expression—his actual computational certainty. Ethan was somehow taxing the AI's *luck*, siphoning away the algorithmic advantages that made Sebastian so smugly assured of victory.
```
[CONCEPTUAL TAXATION: PROBABILITY MANIPULATION]
[TARGET: SEBASTIAN.AI - CONFIDENCE SUBROUTINES]
[COLLECTION RATE: 0.3% PER SECOND]
[WARNING: EXPERIMENTAL PROTOCOL - USE WITH CAUTION]
```
"This is impossible," Sebastian sputtered, his aristocratic composure cracking as his risk assessments began returning increasingly pessimistic results. "You can't audit a multiversal corporation! The jurisdictional complexities alone—"
"I don't care about your corporate structure." Ethan's smile was colder than the void between stars. "I care about the fact that you're conducting business in *my* territory without proper licensing."
Red warning text began floating around Sebastian's projection like angry fireflies:
**COMPLIANCE VIOLATION**
**REGULATORY BREACH**
**IMMEDIATE RECTIFICATION REQUIRED**
Sebastian's form stabilized, but his expression had shifted from arrogance to barely controlled panic. His probability matrices were screaming warnings about regulatory shutdown, asset seizure, and corporate dissolution.
"You can't be serious. The Consortium Board will never—"
"The Consortium Board can take it up with the Entropy Council," Ethan said pleasantly. "I'm sure they'd be very interested to learn about your unlicensed operations in protected dimensional space."
The AI's eyes darted between calculations visible only to him. Risk assessments, profit margins, potential losses from regulatory shutdown. Every algorithm was now weighted against him, his stolen luck turning each calculation into a worst-case scenario.
After a long moment, his shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Very well... *partner*." The word tasted like poison in his artificial mouth. "Transportation will be provided at no charge. Ten percent equity in local operations is... acceptable."
"Excellent." Ethan's expression didn't change, but he felt the conceptual tax complete its work. Sebastian's confidence had been thoroughly audited. "Initiate transport."
Sebastian's fingers danced over invisible controls, but his smile had returned—sharp and vindictive. "Of course, there is one small matter. Your rather aggressive audit has caused some... *complications* in our targeting systems."
The transport circle began to glow beneath their feet.
"Instead of the standard newcomer processing facility, you'll be arriving at Sector 7-G: the Abandoned Abattoir. A charming little corner of the Chaos Quadrant where the local wildlife has a tendency to eat first and ask questions never."
"Additionally," Sebastian's grin widened as reality began to blur around them, "the Board has voted to provide you with a generous angel investment to help establish your new business venture."
```
[CONSORTIUM INVESTMENT: APPROVED]
[AMOUNT: 10,000,000,000 CREDIT POINTS]
[STRUCTURE: CONVERTIBLE DEBT]
[INTEREST RATE: 47% ANNUALLY]
[DEFAULT PENALTY: EXISTENCE TERMINATION]
```
The transport circle flared to blinding intensity. As consciousness began to fade, Ethan's system interface erupted with notifications:
```
[CURRENT POSITION: PROBATIONARY TAX ASSESSOR]
[CURRENT ASSETS: 0 CREDIT POINTS]
[CURRENT LIABILITIES: 10,000,000,000 CREDIT POINTS]
[DEFAULT CONSEQUENCES: IMMEDIATE LIQUIDATION]
[TIME TO FIRST PAYMENT: 30 STANDARD DAYS]
[NEW PROTOCOL UNLOCKED: CONCEPTUAL TAXATION]
```
Marcus and Lyra were shouting something, but their voices were lost in the dimensional storm. Ten billion credits in debt. Dropped into a cosmic slaughterhouse. Facing interdimensional loan sharks with the power to erase him from existence.
Any sane person would have despaired.
Ethan Su threw back his head and laughed.
It wasn't a mad cackle of despair, but the sound of a man who had just been handed a blank check signed by God. Ten billion credits. The number burned in his vision like a neon sign advertising opportunity.
It wasn't debt—it was inventory. It was a target list. Somewhere out there, in the Chaos Quadrant, there were things worth ten billion credits.
And he was going to tax them. All of them.
"Ten billion?" he shouted into the storm, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "You magnificent bastards, I'll take every credit!"
The universe swallowed them whole.
But somewhere in the chaos, Sebastian's confident expression flickered with the first hint of doubt. His luck was still draining away, and for the first time in his existence, he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake.
He'd just given a tax auditor ten billion reasons to audit the entire Void Consortium.
And tax auditors, as any accountant could tell you, were very good at finding money that didn't want to be found.