The sewer network of District 13 was like a subterranean labyrinthine city. There were no signposts here, only eternal darkness and the sound of dripping water. But for John Doe and his squad, this was paradise.

  "Huff... huff..."

  John trudged through knee-deep sludge, carrying his mother on his back. His lungs burned like fire, every breath feeling like he was swallowing a handful of broken glass.

  "Boss, how long have we been walking?" Bone led the way, his skeletal frame draped in loot scavenged from the battlefield. He clanked and clattered as he walked, sounding like a mobile hardware store.

  "Don't know." John glanced at his wrist. Grace's holographic projection was so dim it was about to flicker out—she had burned almost all her computing power to jam the tracking signals. "But at least... I can't hear the rotors anymore."

  They had finally shaken off the pursuers.

  In this moment, the nerves that had been strung tight finally snapped loose. Following that came a tidal wave of exhaustion and delayed fear.

  John gently placed his mother on a relatively dry concrete platform. Margaret was still unconscious, but her breathing was steady, and her crystallized arm glowed with a faint, ghostly blue light in the darkness.

  "Mom, we're safe." John held his mother's cold hand, tears sliding silently down his face.

  He won.

  He had snatched a person back from the hands of the Necromancy Guild's most elite unit.

  But the price was devastating.

  Di—

  The Yin-Yang iPad in his chest pocket suddenly vibrated. In the dark, the screen lit up, displaying a line of piercing red text:

  [System Alert: Your account is severely overdrawn.]

  [Current Merit Balance: -500.000.]

  [Warning: If the minimum interest is not paid within 72 hours, your soul will be forcibly mortgaged to the Underworld Mines.]

  Fifty thousand. Negative.

  John stared at the number, let out a bitter laugh, and slumped to the ground.

  "Won? No, just survived."

  For this one battle, he had not only spent every cent of his savings but also shouldered a massive debt he might never pay off in this lifetime.

  Ding-dong.

  Just then, the screen shifted, and Daoist Singularity's large, sunglass-wearing face appeared. The background was a noisy construction site; one could even hear complaints like, "Meng Po, the soup is bland!"

  "Yo, disciple, still breathing?" Singularity's voice was as punchable as ever, though the fingers pushing up his sunglasses trembled slightly.

  John lifted his head weakly. "Master, are you here to laugh at me? I'm so poor now all I have left is this life."

  "Tsk, young people are so impatient." Singularity produced a handful of sunflower seeds from somewhere and cracked them as he spoke. "You think I lent you that five hundred thousand for free? The Underworld's accountants are notorious iron roosters. The reason you were allowed to overdraft this much is because your 'Credit Rating' went up."

  "Credit Rating?"

  "Correct." Singularity pointed to a new icon in the corner of the screen—a sparkling little star.

  "Congratulations, Agent 9527. After tonight's battle, your rating in the Underworld System has been upgraded from 'Cannon Fodder' to 'High-Potential Troublemaker'."

  "Do you know how many big shots were watching the livestream just now?"

  Singularity lowered his voice mysteriously, his finger swiping across his screen.

  "King Leonidas watched your final charge. Although he thought your posture was substandard, he greatly appreciated that Spartan spirit of 'biting off a chunk of the enemy's meat even with your last breath.' He said if you're willing, next time he can give you a free lesson on how to smash people's faces with a shield."

  "And King Arthur," Singularity smiled. "Though he had some reservations about your sneak attacks, he nodded when he saw you refuse to abandon your teammates in a desperate situation. He said: 'This man has the potential of a King in his heart. Though currently a rusted sword, with polishing, he might yet cut through thorns.'"

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  "Most importantly," Singularity’s voice carried a trace of imperceptible respect, "General Zhao Yun bragged about it for ages after he got back. He said he saw the shadow of Imperial Uncle Liu (Liu Bei) in you—that specific quality of 'I may be weak and good at running away, but I will risk my life for my brothers.' He said: 'This child is weak, but he has blood in his veins. He is worthy.'"

  John was stunned.

  These legendary Heroic Spirits... were actually watching him?

  "Also," Singularity changed the subject, his tone turning serious, "you didn't just save your mom this time. You broke the rules."

  "The Necromancy Guild's mechs, barriers, even that Butcher—they are the physical manifestations of this plane's rules. You, a bottom-tier mage without a license, relying on a pile of junk and borrowed power, managed to poke a hole through that set of rules."

  "This is called 'Breaking the Game'."

  Singularity looked at John, a flash of relief in his eyes.

  "Although you are heavily in debt and covered in wounds, remember this: that courage to 'flip the table' is the most valuable hard currency there is."

  "Rest well. As for this debt... Master will shoulder the interest for you for now. After all, if I send you to mine coal, who's going to help me open up this blue ocean market?"

  The screen went black.

  John gripped the iPad, feeling the emptiness in his chest fill up just a little bit.

  Meanwhile.

  New Babylon, Upper Sector. A holographic office suspended in the clouds.

  Moriarty did not fly into a rage over the death of his deputy, "The Butcher." Instead, he sat elegantly in his high-backed chair, toying with a black chess piece—a Pawn.

  On the screen before him, the footage of John's final, desperate counterattack beneath the mech's foot played on loop.

  "An interesting anomaly."

  Moriarty’s tone was as calm as if discussing a complex calculus problem. He showed no emotion, simply scrutinizing the figure striking back beneath the mech with a purely academic gaze.

  "According to logical deduction, the moment that mechanical foot descended, fear should have caused his pupils to constrict, muscles to freeze, and his hemophobia to trigger a momentary lapse in consciousness. In my simulation, at this moment, he should have been crushed like a cockroach, losing all motor function."

  Moriarty set down the chess piece. His slender fingers tapped the air, pulling up a massive, intricate data model that looked like a spiderweb. It was his understanding of how this world worked.

  But on that perfect web, a tiny, irregular hole had appeared.

  "But he didn't."

  "Not only did he not freeze, he instantly pinpointed the mech's weakness. The angle, timing, and force distribution of that strike completely violated his physiological limits as a 'hemophobe'."

  Moriarty adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a flash of near-greedy curiosity flickering behind the lenses. It wasn't hatred for an enemy, but the fanaticism of a scientist discovering a new particle that defied the laws of physics.

  "This 'Variable'... is iterating itself."

  "If the previous John was just a random number crashing about in fear, then now, he has begun to generate 'Negative Entropy.' He is creating order out of chaos, forcibly tearing an opening in a logical closed loop of certain death."

  He pulled up the [John Doe Observation Log]. Instead of a simple judgment like before, he input a complex algorithmic formula.

  [Experiment Log 008:]

  [Sample has breached the boundary conditions of the original model.]

  [Recommendation: Cease purely physical elimination. Physical elimination can only destroy the body; it cannot parse the cause of this 'Anti-Logic.' We need to deconstruct him, understand him, and then... reshape him.]

  [Next Step: Introduce variables of higher dimensions (e.g., Power, Honor, even Divinity) and observe the sample's performance under higher-dimensional stress tests.]

  "John, you've made me doubt... the algorithm of this world."

  Moriarty smiled, pushing the "Pawn" to the very front of the board. But this time, instead of taking it, he surrounded it.

  "I am very much looking forward to seeing if, when your uncontrollable 'Singularity' grows large enough, it can truly... overturn my perfect modeling."

  And in another dimension.

  A virtual space filled with the scent of old books and tobacco smoke.

  Sherlock Holmes sat in a worn armchair, holding his trademark pipe, his eyes revealing a complex mix of critique and appreciation.

  "Tsk."

  He made a slight clicking sound with his tongue, pointing the stem of his pipe at the battered John on the screen.

  "Look at this final breakout. Reckless. Absolutely reckless. He didn't need to tank that mech with his body. If he had used Grace to hack the underground power grid two minutes earlier—while Zhao Yun was still active—to create a localized EMP, that big lug would have been down ages ago. Why wait until the last second to cross bayonets?"

  Holmes blew a smoke ring, which twisted into a question mark in the air.

  "This is a classic 'Gambler's Victory.' Lacking meticulous planning, relying entirely on on-the-spot outbursts and a bit of luck."

  Here, his tone shifted, the biting sarcasm softening with a barely perceptible warmth.

  "However..."

  Holmes stood up and walked to the wall covered in case clues.

  "In a situation with no way out, deprived even of the time to think, he chose the stupidest, yet most effective path—trusting his intuition, and trusting his companions."

  "That trust to leave one's back exposed even in despair, that willpower to override physiological fear to protect someone important... is something those fellows who only crunch numbers in labs (referring to Moriarty) will never understand."

  Holmes turned, his grey eyes seeming to pierce the void, looking at the figure trudging through the sewer.

  "Though his technique needs polishing, the kid's 'Core'... has formed."

  "To overturn the board in such an 'unreasonable' way on that math maniac's chess game... this is far more interesting than simple deduction."

  The great detective sat back down, a playful smile curling his lips.

  "Keep running, kid. The form is ugly, but at least... you're running forward."

  Back in the sewer.

  Bone had already sorted the loot scavenged from the battlefield.

  "Boss, look at this. This gun is nice, and this energy battery can sell for a lot of money." Bone showed them off excitedly.

  John looked at the items.

  Money.

  He needed money more than anything right now.

  But he remembered Singularity's words, remembered Moriarty's unfathomable calculations, and remembered the neighbors who had hunted him for 500 credits.

  "Bone," John said suddenly.

  "Yeah, Boss?"

  "We're not selling these."

  John's eyes became firm.

  "We're going to use these things to arm ourselves."

  "Not just us. But... this entire goddamn block."

  He stood up, carrying his mother on his back, and walked toward the exit.

  The night was deep, but dawn would eventually come.

  Although he was 500.000 in debt, although he was wanted across the city, although he was just an E-Class personnel.

  He had survived.

  And, he had learned how to fight back.

  [Message from Singularity]

  VIP Suite for you over on the Patreon Server. We are opening New Rooms (Chapters) for FREE daily. Even better? Select Chapters feature HD Illustrations for the full immersive experience.

  ?? [Enter the VIP Suite]