The Lifespan Wealth System

Chapter 6. Blood and Decisions

[Temporary Health: Active. Duration: 23:59:59.]

[Remaining Lifespan: Classified.]

Axel no longer cared. He pushed his motorcycle through the freezing Vancouver night, heading toward the isolated outskirts of the harbor. Behind him, two black SUVs pursued at high speed, an elite escort unit he had hired at the cost of one year of his life. They were not just men in suits, they were killing machines sent by an entity that knew no mercy.

The old warehouse on the northern pier loomed ahead. Axel stopped, the engine growling low before cutting out. He dismounted, his body feeling unnaturally light, an effect of the Temporary Health deceiving his nervous system.

Inside the warehouse, the stench of diesel and rust greeted him. Gerry stood in the center of the room, casually flipping a folding knife with a mocking grin. In a leather chair behind him sat the Boss, the loan shark who controlled the harbor’s black routes. But Axel’s eyes locked onto only one thing, his mother, bound to a wooden chair in the corner, her mouth gagged with cloth.

“You’re right on time, loser,” Gerry sneered.

“Let my mother go. The money you want is here.” Axel raised his phone, his expression empty.

The Boss stood, exhaling cigar smoke into the air. “That hundred thousand dollars is just parking money after what I’ve heard about you, Axel. You have an endless source of funds, don’t you? Give me access to your real account, or your mother goes home in a plastic bag.”

Axel clenched his fists. His anger triggered the system, flashing a red warning at the edge of his vision. “I won’t give you another cent.”

“Gerry,” the Boss ordered coldly. “Break his legs.”

Gerry stepped forward with an iron baseball bat. But before the weapon could swing, the warehouse doors exploded inward, smashed by the front of a black SUV. The crash of metal against concrete shattered the silence. Four men in tactical gear leapt out, moving faster than ordinary human coordination could track.

“Finish them,” Axel said flatly.

The warehouse erupted into chaos. Gerry screamed orders for his dozen men to attack, but the system guards moved like predatory shadows. One of Axel’s guards caught Gerry’s iron bat with his bare hand, then countered with a knee strike that shattered the man’s ribs in a single blow. The crack of bone echoed, followed by Gerry’s horrific scream as he collapsed onto the cold cement.

The Boss panicked, drawing a .45 caliber pistol and firing wildly. A guard lunged forward, kicking the mafia boss’s wrist and sending the gun flying across the floor. Within seconds, the harbor thugs were neutralized. Arms broken, bodies slammed into cargo crates until they lost consciousness. Axel’s guards did not use firearms, they destroyed their enemies with terrifying physical efficiency.

Axel approached the Boss, now kneeling, his once-arrogant face slick with cold sweat. One of Axel’s guards stood behind him, ready to snap the man’s neck.

“Money can’t buy everything,” Axel whispered, gripping the collar of the man’s expensive shirt. “But tonight, my money buys your destruction.”

Axel signaled his guards to deal with the Boss. He turned away, adrenaline flooding his system. He had to free his mother immediately. He ran toward the corner of the room, but a tactical mistake followed, he underestimated the hatred Gerry still carried.

Gerry, blood-soaked among the stacked lumber, swung the folding knife he had hidden up his sleeve. The blade plunged deep into Axel’s abdomen.

Axel stopped. His steps froze. A sudden cold sensation struck, followed by a burning heat in his lower stomach. He looked down to see silver steel buried in his flesh. Fresh red blood, unnaturally warm against the subzero harbor air, seeped out, soaking his shirt and jacket.

“Die … you … trash!” Gerry snarled, laughing cruelly.

Axel staggered. He yanked the knife free with trembling hands, the pain washing his vision white for a moment.

With what little strength he had left, Axel drove the same knife straight into Gerry’s mouth and cheek, rendering him unconscious. He was sick of the mockery Gerry had thrown at him for years.

After that, he tried to keep moving toward his mother, but his legs felt like lead. Every step left a thick red trail across the warehouse floor.

“Axel! My son!” his mother cried from afar, sobbing at the sight of him drenched in blood.

The pain began tearing apart the illusion of Temporary Health. At the edge of his vision, the system panel suddenly shifted into a dark, pulsing red, beating like a heart racing toward death.

[CRITICAL WARNING: Temporary Health synchronization disrupted due to external physical trauma.]

[Blood loss accelerating lifespan depletion exponentially.]

[Estimated remaining lifespan dropping below 60 seconds.]

Axel fell to his knees. Blood spilled beneath him, staining the warehouse dust a deep crimson. He felt his body cooling rapidly. At the same time, the wail of Vancouver police sirens began to rise, cutting through the harbor night. Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, reflecting off the warehouse’s shattered windows.

[Emergency Option Detected: Instant Cellular Patching (Cost: 5 Years of Lifespan).]

[Do you accept this transaction?]

Axel stared at his blood-soaked hands. He could hear the police shouting outside, ordering everyone to drop their weapons. If he accepted the transaction, he might live to see tomorrow, but he would lose another five years, time that might already be the last of his life. If he refused, he would die here, in front of his mother, labeled a criminal by the law.

His vision blurred. He saw his mother, then the warehouse doors being forced open by the police. Among the chaos, he thought he saw Elara’s shadow, crying.

“Please .…” he whispered.

[Remaining time: 10 seconds.]

Axel raised his trembling finger toward the virtual panel only he could see. At the brink of death, he realized that ignorance of one’s remaining lifespan was a cruelty far worse than any death sentence. Because now, he did not know whether he was trading away his final five years, or merely five years from dozens still left.

Axel’s blood-smeared finger pressed the “Yes” button just as the warehouse doors collapsed and police flashlights flooded the room.

“Police! Don’t move!”

What the police found was not a powerful young man, but a blood-soaked figure who looked nearly sixty years old, with a bundle of white hair gleaming under the flashlight beams.

Axel closed his eyes as the system issued its cold announcement.

[Transaction Successful. Your remaining lifespan is now in status: CRITICAL.]