The karma exchange

Chapter 3: The Crimson Stare

Vik stood perfectly still by the window, the cool night air rushing over his face. He didn't dare to move. Across the street, the man in the dark hoodie remained anchored under the dim glow of the lamppost.

The notification in Vik’s vision hadn't disappeared:

[Warning: The target is tracking your energy signature.]

The red numbers hovering above the man's head(-4,200) felt like a direct threat. It was a staggering figure. Kedar had only carried -850, and he had been a brutal enforcer. To accumulate a debt that large, the man across the street had likely killed. Multiple times.

How did he find me so fast? Vik thought, his heart hammering in his chest despite his newly acquired physical upgrades.

He forced himself to stay calm, relying on his sharp, commerce-trained mind to analyze the problem. The Karma Exchange interface had mentioned liquidation and Contractors. If the universe used a ledger to balance the souls of the living, it made sense that there were multiple agents collecting and spending that currency.

Vik closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, calling up the Appraisal Level 2 data again.

[Target: Unknown Contractor]

[Primary Sources of Balance: Extortion, Assault, Contracted Elimination of Targets.]

Contracted Elimination. The phrase sent a chill down Vik’s spine. This man was a hitman. And judging by the warning, he wasn't here to make small talk. He was hunting Vik to extract his Karma.

Down in the street, the man slowly raised his hand. He pointed a single, gloved finger directly at Vik's window, then slid it across his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He didn't run toward the building. Instead, he stepped backward into the deep shadows of the alleyway behind the lamppost and vanished.

Vik exhaled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the window sill.

He was being watched, and his tiny apartment was no longer safe. If he stayed here, he would be trapped in a box. He needed to move, and he needed to do it immediately.

Vik grabbed a dark, weather-worn jacket from his closet, threw it on over his shoulders, and checked his remaining balance.

[Current Balance: 170 Points.]

It wasn't enough to buy anything substantial from the shop. He was effectively out of funds, but he still had his passive level 1 enhancements in strength and agility. He felt the coiled power in his legs as he slipped out of his room, locking the door silently behind him.

Instead of taking the creaky main staircase, Vik opted for the emergency fire escape at the back of the building. The metal stairs were rusted and slick from the evening drizzle, but his enhanced balance made the descent effortless. He moved with the quiet grace of a predator, his senses dialing into the ambient sounds of the city—the distant hum of late-night traffic, the scurrying of rats near the dumpsters, and the faint scraping of leather boots against concrete.

He reached the ground level, pressing his back against the cold brick wall of the alley.

He didn't see the hitman.

Vik moved quickly, cutting through the labyrinth of narrow, unlit side streets that made up the old residential quarter. He needed to get to a more populated area. Predators thrived in the dark; if he could reach the late-night market district a few blocks away, the sheer volume of people would force the hitman to hesitate.

But as Vik turned a corner into a dead-end service lane behind a row of closed shops, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Leaning against a stack of wooden crates at the end of the lane was the man in the dark hoodie. He was casually tossing a heavy, black tactical knife from hand to hand.

"You're fast for a beginner," the hitman said. His voice was a low, raspy drawl that echoed unpleasantly in the enclosed space. "But you leave a trail like a bleeding animal."

Vik took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he evaluated his surroundings. The only exit was the way he had come, but the hitman's posture suggested he was ready to cut him off the moment he bolted.

"Who sent you?" Vik asked, keeping his voice steady. "Kedar's people?"

The hitman let out a short, dry chuckle. "Kedar? That small-time parasite? Please. I don't work for the Syndicate. I work for myself. When a new Contractor awakens in my territory, the system pings me. It's like a fresh deposit notification."

He stepped out of the shadows, the dim light finally revealing his face. He was in his late twenties, with a jagged scar running across his jawline. His eyes weren't normal; they held a faint, unsettling crimson tint that matched the numbers floating above his head.

"You're lucky," the hitman continued, circling Vik like a wolf. "Most new guys panic and spend all their initial Karma on useless things. But you... I can feel the physical enhancement radiating off you. You’ve got good instincts. It’s a shame your balance is only at a hundred and seventy. It's barely worth my time."

"Then let me walk," Vik said, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet.

"Can't do that," the hitman smirked. "In this game, you either harvest or get harvested. And right now, you're the crop."

In a sudden, explosive blur of movement, the hitman lunged.

He was incredibly fast. To a normal person, he would have appeared as nothing more than a shadow, but Vik’s basic agility enhancement kicked in. Time seemed to slow down just enough for him to track the trajectory of the black blade slicing toward his throat.

Vik ducked, the knife whistling millimeters above his hair. He drove his fist upward, aiming directly for the hitman’s ribs.

Thud.

The blow landed with the force of a sledgehammer, cracking against the hitman's reinforced vest. The man grunted, taking two steps back, surprise flashing across his scarred face.

"Not bad," the hitman muttered, spitting a bit of saliva onto the ground. "You've got some power. But you don't have technique."

The hitman threw his knife into the air, caught it by the blade, and launched it straight at Vik's chest. At the same time, he pulled a second knife from his belt and rushed forward.

Vik dodged the thrown knife by a hair's breadth, but the sudden evasion left his right side wide open. The hitman capitalized on the opening instantly, driving his second blade upward.

Searing pain.

The knife grazed Vik’s forearm, slicing through his jacket and skin.

[Warning: Direct physical damage sustained. Health status: 92%]

The pain was sharp, but the surge of adrenaline was sharper. Vik ignored the bleeding and grabbed the hitman’s wrist with both hands, using his Level 1 strength to twist it with all his might.

Snap.

The hitman’s wrist buckled under the unnatural pressure. He dropped the second knife, his face contorting in pain.

"You little—!" the hitman hissed.

Before he could pull away, Vik leaned in close. He could see the red numbers above the man's head pulsing violently.

"My turn to collect," Vik whispered.

He pressed his bleeding forearm directly against the hitman’s neck, initiating the extraction.

[Initiating Karma Extraction on target: Unknown Contractor.]

[Error: Target is an active Contractor. Extraction rate reduced by 50%.]

[Processing...]

A violent, chaotic current of energy exploded between them. It wasn't the smooth, warming flow Vik had experienced with Kedar. This was a jagged, agonizing torrent of raw power that felt like needles piercing his skin.

The hitman screamed, his body shaking as his crimson energy was forcibly dragged out of him.

"Stop... stop it!" the hitman choked out, his eyes widening in pure terror as he felt his very life force being drained away.

But Vik didn't let go. He held on, matching the hitman's desperation with his own unyielding will to live.

[Extraction in progress...]

[+500 Pure Karma received.]

[+500 Pure Karma received.]

Suddenly, the hitman jammed his good hand into his pocket, pulled out a small, glowing talisman, and crushed it.

BOOM.

A concussive wave of dark energy erupted between the two men, throwing Vik backward into a stack of metal trash cans. He hit the ground hard, gasping for breath as his vision swam.

By the time Vik scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes, the alleyway was empty.

A trail of dark blood led away from the service lane, disappearing into the main street. The hitman had escaped, but he had left something behind.

Vik looked down. On the wet concrete lay the black tactical knife and the shattered remnants of the talisman.

He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, as the interface flashed before his eyes.

[Extraction interrupted. Target escaped.]

[Total Karma extracted: +1,000 Points.]

[Current Balance: 1,170 Points.]

Vik let out a ragged, triumphant laugh. He was bruised, bleeding, and exhausted—but he was alive. And for the first time, he had the resources to truly fight back.

He reached down, picked up the tactical knife, and turned toward the dark streets of the city.

"Open the shop," Vik muttered. "Let's see what a thousand points can buy me."