Kael Thorn had thirty seconds left to live.
Not because of a blade.
Not because of poison.
Because of a bad trade
His hands trembled over the crystal panel, the last glowing digits of his mana account flickering red.
Balance: 0.92 M.U.
Required Margin: 1.00 M.U.
Status: Below Maintenance Threshold
Auto-Liquidation in: 00:00:27
He tried one last desperate move — dumping a Level-2 fire sigil, praying for a price spike.
The system laughed in his face.
Error: Insufficient Credit Line
Error: Volatility Limit Exceeded
Kael's knees hit the cold marble floor of the Exchange Tower. Around him, brokers in gold-threaded robes whispered, smirking at his collapse. The Oracle-Bell tolled once — a clear, cruel note that echoed through the dome.
Another soul bankrupt.
Another failure flushed from the Market.
Kael closed his eyes. He could feel it already — the mana bleeding out of his body, the system cutting him off, cell by cell. The energy that once danced in his veins was now being sold to cover his debt.
Then the world went silent.
And the voice came.
"So. You lost your bet."
It wasn't human.
It was ancient. Cold. Calculated.
"Good. Only the broken understand leverage."
Kael's eyes flew open.
A massive shadow loomed over him — not cast by flame or sun, but by shifting numbers, graphs, glowing red and gold. A figure of scales, chains, and burning contracts. A god.
"I am Volundr. God of Margin. Patron of those who gamble with blood."
"Do you want your second chance?"
Kael's voice was a whisper. "I have nothing left."
The god's grin cracked the sky.
"Exactly."
Kael's voice cracked. "What do you want from me?"
"A contract," Volundr said.
The god extended one hand — not flesh, but ink and claw, dripping with burning clauses. A scroll unfurled mid-air, its terms written in numbers Kael didn't understand and blood that looked suspiciously like his own.
Margin Contract: Volundr-13-Beta
Principal: Kael Thorn
Collateral: All Soul Holdings
Interest Rate: Variable, Compounding
Default Consequence: Absolute Erasure
"Accept," the god whispered, "and your losses become leverage."
Kael hesitated. He remembered the last time he signed a deal.
Two years ago.
The Forgeborn Syndicate.
The so-called "safe investment" into a mana refinery.
Promised returns. Zero risk.
They used him as a front.
Then pulled the rug.
He was disbarred. Stripped. Left to rot.
"You were cheated," Volundr said, reading his thoughts like ledger lines. "Used. Burned. And yet... they still walk free."
Kael's fists clenched. The Exchange Masters. Syndicate heirs. The High Broker who smiled as he was cast out.
He wasn't supposed to survive this long. The liquidation should have erased him hours ago.
But he was still here.
Because this thing — this god — wanted something.
Kael stood.
Blood trickled from his nose.
His body was shaking. Hollow. Starved of energy.
"And if I take the deal?" he said.
The god smiled.
"Then you'll rise. Not with sword or spell — but by speculation and sacrifice. You will buy their downfall."
"You will become the most dangerous thing in this world."
"A man with nothing left to lose."
Kael stared at the contract.
The scroll shimmered.
His signature burned into it without a quill.
Contract Accepted.
Initializing Leverage Core...
Pain ripped through his chest — not physical, but spiritual. Numbers surged across his vision, a private ticker-tape of floating assets and locked potential. A HUD formed, but darker than any legal Broker system he knew.
And then the voice came again.
[Volundr System Online]
[Your debt is your power.]
[Your suffering is your yield.]
Kael collapsed again, laughing.
But this time, not in despair.
"I'm coming back," he whispered. "And I'm buying the whole damn Exchange."
Kael's breath came in short, jagged bursts.
His bones felt molten. His skin peeled with invisible fire.
Inside his chest, something had been born — something alien.
He looked down.
Where his heart should be, a faint golden sigil pulsed just beneath the skin, in the shape of two scales crossed by a jagged line. Lines of arcane code spun around it, whispering values he didn't understand yet.
[Margin Core Initialized]
Current Leverage: x0.5
Available Collateral: 1 Soul Unit
Risk Threshold: 98%
He could feel the numbers. Taste them.
Every object in the room had value.
The marble floor? 11.3 Mana Units.
The Broker's robes? 48 M.U. — overpriced, depreciating fast.
Kael staggered to his feet.
He was starving, exhausted, seconds away from collapse — but a current flowed through him. Not pure mana. Something colder. Sharper. Leveraged mana.
The god's voice echoed one last time.
"Your enemies will not understand what you've become. That is your edge."
"Use it."
And then Volundr vanished.
The crystal panel before Kael blinked to life.
Auto-Liquidation: Cancelled
Balance: 0.00 M.U.
Risk: 100%
Collateral Consumed: 0.1 S.U.
He grinned.
"I just sold a piece of my soul," Kael muttered, "and I'm still breathing."
The smug Broker watching from the gallery stepped forward, arms crossed.
"Impossible," she hissed. "He should be dead."
It was Mirelle Varn — daughter of High Broker Varn, one of the Syndicate snakes who framed him.
She had personally signed the order to liquidate him.
Kael's eyes locked with hers.
For a second, she froze. Something in him had changed — she could feel it. The same man she ruined, now staring back like a wolf who learned to count interest.
"I'll report this," she snapped. "Whatever trick you pulled—"
Kael raised a hand.
No spell. No wand.
Just intention — and math.
[Skill Activated: Mana Short-Sell Lv.1]
Target: Mirelle Varn's Personal Sigil
Status: Overexposed Asset — Borrowed Position Executed
Her mana flared — then crashed.
Mirelle screamed, clutching her side as if something had been ripped from her.
She stumbled back, pale and gasping. "You— what did you—?!"
Kael smirked.
"Just hedging my risk."
He turned and walked toward the exit.
Every Broker in the Exchange watched him pass — some in fear, some in awe, and some already calculating.
Far above, in the Executive Rings, a shadow stirred.
A white-robed figure leaned over the rail, eyes narrowing.
"Kael Thorn is alive," he whispered.
"And he made a deal with a dead god."
"Initiate Contingency Protocol 'Black Ledger'."