The underground bunker in District 13. once a World War II air raid shelter, had become John Doe's temporary base of operations.

  The air was thick with the smell of damp mold and the lingering gunpowder smoke clinging to Bone’s frame. Grace had shut down due to low battery, leaving only a dark screened wristband on John’s arm. Margaret lay on the only camp cot; her breathing was faint, but the terrifying spread of the crystallization had finally halted.

  John leaned against the mildewed wall, holding the overheating Yin-Yang iPad as if cradling a ticking time bomb that had just paused its countdown.

  On the screen, the bright red numbers [-500.000] seemed to mock his incompetence.

  "Master..." John’s voice was weak as he addressed Daoist Singularity, who was sipping tea on the screen. "Is there a mistake in the bill? I only used a five-minute trial card. How can I owe this much? Last time Holmes came out and smoked for an afternoon, it only cost a few thousand."

  On the screen, Singularity put down his teacup and adjusted his sunglasses, wearing an expression of "iron not becoming steel" (utter disappointment).

  "Mistake? Do you think all summons are created equal?"

  Singularity extended a finger and tapped the screen a few times, pulling up a detailed [Cross-Plane Energy Conversion Diagram].

  "Come, let your Master give you a physics lesson. Just so you don't wonder how you went bankrupt later."

  Lesson 1: The Cruel Price of E=mc

  2

  "The Holmes you mentioned, and that beggar Diogenes, they belong to the [Intellect/Conceptual Type] of Heroic Spirits."

  Singularity pointed to the blue curve on the chart, his tone relaxed.

  "To summon them, the Underworld only needs to transmit a 'High-Density Thought Data Packet.' In other words, an information stream. In physics terms, this merely alters local Information Entropy. It's like downloading a 4K movie; the file is big, but it’s just data. As long as the bandwidth is good, the server doesn't even break a sweat."

  "However!" Singularity slammed his hand on the table, pointing at the red curve spiking off the charts, his expression turning ferocious.

  "Zhao Yun is different! Guan Yu, Xiang Yu, all these generals are different!"

  "They are [Combat/Physical Type] Heroic Spirits. Every attack they make requires the support of 'Mass' and 'Kinetic Energy'!"

  Singularity drew a massive E=mc

  2

  formula on the screen.

  "Einstein told you long ago: Mass is congealed energy. To 'materialize' the concept of 'Zhao Yun' into a physical entity in this material world—one that can tank armor-piercing rounds and pierce mechs—we need to create matter out of thin air!"

  "Do you know how much energy is required to create 1 gram of matter? Roughly equivalent to an atomic bomb explosion! And Zhao Yun, horse and armor included, weighs at least a ton! We are essentially burning an astronomical amount of spirit stones in mere milliseconds to compress energy into matter!"

  "You call that a summon? That was basically a controlled nuclear fusion reaction right over your head! Fifty thousand a pop? That’s just the cost of the nuclear fuel! I haven't even calculated the labor costs yet!"

  Lesson 2: Why is "Merit" the Currency?

  John listened, stunned, but he grasped the key point. "But... what does this have to do with Merit? Why do we have to pay in Merit?"

  Daoist Singularity sighed, his eyes growing profound.

  "Because the nature of this universe is a constant march toward chaos—Second Law of Thermodynamics, Entropy Increase."

  "Every energy conversion, every explosion, every killing increases the universe's disorder (Entropy). Forcing a high-energy entity like Zhao Yun into the mortal realm is an extreme act of 'defying heaven,' creating massive entropy."

  "If not balanced, this entropy increase would cause reality to collapse."

  Singularity pointed to the golden icon representing Merit in the top right corner.

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  "And 'Merit' is the only energy in this universe capable of actively lowering entropy."

  "It is benevolence, it is order, it is Negative Entropy. It is used to offset the 'Chaos Cost' generated by our spellcasting."

  "You saved a person, the world became more orderly, thus generating Merit. You use this Merit to pay for the chaos caused by Zhao Yun's descent. This is Underworld Economics—trading Order for Power."

  "Do you understand now? You don't owe money; you owe 500.000 units of 'Negative Entropy'! If you can't fill that hole, you'll have to come to the Underworld and mine coal, using your physical labor to artificially lower entropy!"

  John gulped. He finally understood that he wasn't just carrying debt; he was carrying the balance of the universe.

  Lesson 3: The Cost of Possession

  "What about the remaining 450.000?" John pointed to the even more terrifying bulk of the debt. "Wasn't the trial card free?"

  "The trial card waived the 'Summoning Fee,' not the 'Illegal Operation Fee'."

  Singularity pointed at John’s chest. "What did you do at the end there? 'Heroic Spirit Possession'? Who taught you that?"

  "It was... in the heat of the moment..."

  "That is a Forbidden Technique!" Singularity said sternly. "Heroic Spirits and living humans run on two completely different operating systems. You letting Zhao Yun's data directly overwrite your flesh is called 'Forced System Compatibility.' To keep your little life from being blown apart by Zhao Yun's massive spiritual pressure, the system automatically activated the 'Maximum Level Soul Protection Barrier'."

  "That 450.000 isn't for Zhao Yun. It's for repairing your broken body and patching the Underworld energy circuits fried by your forced compatibility!"

  Singularity sighed and pointed to the smoking server racks in his background.

  "See that? Because of that one spear thrust of yours, three transformers in the Southern District of Hell blew up. They're still doing emergency repairs."

  Lesson 4: You Need to Get Good

  "So, this is why I don't recommend you always calling the big shots," Singularity said earnestly. "The cost-performance ratio is too low. You used a butcher's cleaver to kill a chicken, and now you have to pay for the wear and tear on the cleaver."

  "Look at yourself. Do you know how bad your fundamentals are?"

  Singularity pulled up John’s [Personal Stat Panel].

  [John Doe]

  [Class: Necromancer (Dropout) / Underworld Agent (Intern)]

  [Spiritual Power: E- (Barely better than a civilian)]

  [Skill Tree:]

  Summoning (S-Rank): Purely pay-to-win.

  Basic Talismans (F-Rank): Immobilize (30% success rate), Clarity (Cures mild headaches), Life-Lock (Not yet learned).

  Melee (F-Rank): Relies entirely on adrenaline and a scalpel.

  "See that?" Singularity tapped the screen. "You are an infant holding a nuclear launch button. Once you run out of money to press the button, you are useless."

  "Those basic talismans are the foundation of your daily survival. A well-used Immobilize Charm acts as a flashbang; a Clarity Charm neutralizes poison; a Life-Lock Charm can hang onto a last breath. These are low-cost, high-utility skills—what you mages call 'Basic Elemental Skills'."

  "You must master these. Next time you meet trash mobs, don't summon Zhao Yun at the drop of a hat. Throwing a few Immobilize Charms or using a Life-Lock to play dirty is better than burning money!"

  John looked at the pathetic F-rank scores and lowered his head in shame.

  It was true. If he were strong enough himself, even if he only knew a few practical control spells, he wouldn't force himself into a dead end every time.

  "I understand, Master." John clenched his fist. "I'll practice. I'll practice like my life depends on it."

  "Practicing alone isn't enough; you have to pay the money."

  Singularity’s expression grew anxious, even a bit embarrassed.

  "Disciple, to tell you the truth. If this 500.000 deficit isn't filled soon, the Underworld's energy system is going to crash. When that happens, forget summoning—even my signal will cut out."

  "Right now, repayment is Priority One."

  "Those scraps Bone picked up? Find a way to sell them immediately. Also, you're famous now. Use that fame to take orders! Exorcisms, ghost hunting, Feng Shui consulting—if they pay, take the job!"

  The screen flickered twice; the signal really was becoming unstable.

  "Hurry up... remember, practice the basics... and don't... blow up any more transformers..."

  Beep—

  Connection lost.

  John looked at the dark screen and let out a long sigh.

  "Boss, how'd it go?"

  Bone approached, hugging a pile of parts stripped from the mech. "Did the old Taoist yell at you?"

  "He didn't yell." John tucked the iPad into his clothes, stood up, and stretched his aching muscles. "He just told me that we owe a mountain of debt, and if we don't pay it back, the world is going to end."

  He glanced at the pile of loot in the corner: mercenary guns, mech chips, and that spatial ring from the Necromancer.

  "Bone, organize this stuff. Tomorrow morning, we hit the black market."

  "The black market?" Bone paused. "Boss, we're wanted criminals now. I checked the news; our bounty hasn't changed, but on the streets, our code name has."

  Bone pulled up his portable terminal, projecting a screenshot from the underground intelligence network.

  There, John’s photo was bolded and red-bordered.

  Previous Note: [E-Class Personnel · Rookie].

  Current Note:

  [Codename: The Summoner]

  [Threat Level: D+ (Extreme Danger)]

  [Record: Solo-killed a Pluto Mech, destroyed a biochemical lab, suspected to possess High-Tier Heroic Spirit protection.]

  [Advisory: Non-heavy firepower squads should not engage.]

  "We're famous, Boss." Bone pointed at the cool new codename. "Now, nobody dares to trouble us for 500 bucks. But the real big sharks are probably eyeing us as a fat piece of meat."

  John looked at the new title, a cold sneer curling his lips.

  "Fame is a resource too."

  He picked up the large-caliber pistol looted from The Butcher. Although he didn't know how to use a gun, the heavy weight made him feel grounded.

  "Since they call me 'The Summoner,' I'll show them just how crazy a Summoner who owes five hundred grand can be to make money."

  "From today on, black jobs, white jobs—as long as they pay, we grant all requests."

  John turned and looked deep into the dim tunnel.

  "But before that..."

  He pulled a crumpled piece of yellow paper from his pocket—a draft of the [Immobilize Talisman].

  "I need to learn how to shut people up without relying on Zhao Yun."

  In the darkness, he began to practice drawing the runes, over and over again. His wrist ached, his spiritual power ran dry, but he didn't stop.

  Because he knew that next time, there might not be a five-minute trial card.

  Only the power held in his own hands was a true trump card.

  [Message from Singularity]

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