The Lifespan Wealth System

Chapter 9. The Fatigue Algorithm

The air on the fourth floor of the parking structure suddenly froze, as if time itself had been violently pulled by an invisible gravity. A transparent shockwave erupted from Axel’s body at the exact moment the tip of Goran’s black stone knife touched the skin of his neck. The gaunt man was flung backward, his body slamming into a concrete pillar hard enough to send cracks spidering across its surface. His strange knife flew free, clattering across the damp cement floor before disappearing into the darkness.

Axel did not fall. He stood rigid, but inside his head, the sound of bones cracking echoed in rapid succession, like dry branches snapping one after another. His joints were forcibly hardened. He could feel the hydration beneath his skin evaporating, leaving behind wrinkled, lifeless tissue. The calcium in his bones shrank dramatically. He stared at his hands as the skin slackened, its pigment fading into a pale gray within seconds.

[DEFENSE MODE ACTIVE]

[COST: 5 YEARS OF REMAINING LIFESPAN DEDUCTED]

Goran coughed violently and vomited a blackened fluid onto the floor. He looked at Axel with eyes filled with pure terror. The once smooth surface of Goran’s face began to fracture in several places.

“You’re insane, Axel. Five years for a single strike,” Goran growled as he struggled to crawl upright.

“You forced me,” Axel replied. His voice was no longer that of a young man from the docks. It was hoarse, deep, and heavy with the exhaustion of an old man.

Goran wiped the black blood from his lips. He saw Axel standing tall, his hair now completely white. He understood then that this new host possessed vitality far beyond his calculations, while his own system was already in a critical state.

“Take good care of that system,” Goran hissed. He snatched his knife back with a quick motion that was still agile. “I’ll return when you’re more fragile. You don’t even know how that thing really works yet. You’re just a wasteful host.”

“Leave. Or die here.” Axel raised his right hand.

In an instant, the gravitational field around Goran tightened, crushing him against the floor. Goran let out a bitter laugh, realizing he could not break through the active barrier now. With one nimble movement, he leaped toward the open edge of the structure and landed on a passing container truck below. His figure vanished into the darkness of the Vancouver night.

The moment the threat disappeared, defense mode shut down automatically. The alien power evaporated, leaving Axel’s body feeling like a fragile, hollow shell. He dropped to one knee, gasping for oxygen as if his lungs had shrunk.

Axel forced himself to stand. He did not return to the hospital. He could not bear to see Lena’s hopeful face or Elara’s wounded gaze. Instead, he rode his motorcycle to a cheap cash only rental apartment on the outskirts of the city. Room 402 was small, stifling, and smelled of old dust. He locked the door tightly and went straight to the bathroom.

The dim neon light above the sink flickered. Axel removed his jacket and shirt. He examined his reflection in the mirror with clinical detachment. His shoulders were slightly hunched. The skin on his chest had lost its elasticity. He looked like a seventy year old man who had narrowly escaped death.

“Hair completely white. Pigmentation gone. Muscle mass reduced by fifteen percent,” Axel muttered as he traced the deep lines on his forehead. There were no tears. No complaints. Only cold analysis.

The system remained silent. There was no congratulation for surviving death. No compensation for his bravery. Axel turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. The cold helped clear his chaotic thoughts. He realized something fundamental. The guilt that had been crushing him all this time had become a weapon for the system to consume him faster.

“You’re still there, aren’t you?” Axel asked the empty air.

There was no response. Only oppressive silence. He remembered Goran’s words about the previous host. Axel walked to the old wooden table in the corner and opened his worn laptop. He was not about to write an emotional journal. He needed logic. He connected his phone to the laptop using a modified data cable.

“If you can send notifications to my retina and process banking figures, that means you have a data processing unit." Axel murmured.

He realized that the system was not merely mystical magic, but technology operating on a biological frequency level. His laptop now functioned as an external monitor. Axel was not hacking his heart, he was hacking the output signals the system emitted to nearby digital devices. Lines of code began flowing across the screen, capturing frequency interference generated by his own body.

“I’ve been a slave to the wrong kind of morality,” Axel said as he stared at the lifespan fluctuation graphs appearing on the screen.

He compared his previous transactions. Every time he felt guilty, the cost of aging spiked dramatically. The laptop revealed hidden log traces from the previous owner.

[EMPATHY SYNCHRONIZATION MAXIMUM].

“Connection successful. Cause of death was total depletion, but the reason remained a mystery." Axel reflected, staring at the line of numbers that reached zero.

He understood one crucial thing. This system was an honest parasite. It would not kill its host suddenly as long as lifespan credit remained. It would simply execute whatever the host requested, regardless of whether the host could survive afterward. The previous owner died because he did not know when to stop paying. He went biologically bankrupt to atone for something that might have been priceless.

“If the previous owner died from paying too much penance, then I have to stop feeling guilty,” Axel whispered to his reflection on the glowing laptop screen.

“You feed on guilt, don’t you?” Axel whispered again. “Then I’ll give you logic, not remorse.”

On the screen, the algorithm flagged emotional detection as a price multiplier. The previous owner had been trapped in an emotional vortex that bankrupted him in a short time. Axel would not repeat that mistake. He had to treat every transaction as pure business, not moral atonement.

“Living with the system grants wealth but a faster death, but at least I have a choice,” he said coldly.

Axel chose control. He remembered how Julian Sterling’s reward had actually increased his lifespan. That was the key. Clean money added time, system money consumed it.

“I have to launder your money.” Axel typed out an investment scheme on his laptop. “I’ll build legal power using your capital. I’ll fabricate ‘real work’ so this algorithm gives me additional lifespan.”

At once, a system panel appeared before him, pulsing a pale red.

[STATUS: USER EXPERIENCING PSYCHOLOGICAL SHIFT]

[SYSTEM ADJUSTING TO NEW TRANSACTION LOGIC]

“Are you afraid I’ve found your loophole?” Axel smiled faintly, a chilling expression on his newly aged face.

He no longer felt physical fatigue as a burden. This exhaustion was proof that he had stopped being a naive human. He would become a parasite to the system itself. He would hack its rules from the inside.

“I know how you killed him." Axel said coldly to the screen. “Now it’s my turn to use you.”

Axel leaned back against the hard chair. The blue glow of the laptop reflected in his eyes, now sharp and merciless. He slowly closed the laptop, letting the room sink back into darkness.

Out there, the city of Vancouver continued to pulse with money and lives. Axel was ready to take the largest share without surrendering his soul again. Before sleeping, he opened a new note on his laptop, a title that would mark the beginning of his rebellion:

“System Experiment: How to Live Longer with an Active System.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll see who gives up first,” he whispered before closing his eyes.