The ink didn't dry. It bled.
Solar stood in the central archives, his black leather coat smelling of ozone and cold metal. Around him, the tower was vibrating. THUMP. THUMP. The sound of a thousand boots hitting the reinforced glass doors downstairs. They called themselves "The Dragon Slayers." A collection of factory runaways, failed students, and starving poets. To the city, they were heroes. To Solar, they were just another bad debt that needed to be written off.
"They're in the vents, sir! They've bypassed the gas-traps!"
Elias was hyperventilating. His eyes were wide, darting toward the ceiling panels. He held a manual ledger like a shield, his knuckles white and bleeding from a fall. He looked like a rat caught in a gold-plated maze.
"A Dragon Slayer," Solar muttered. His voice was a dry, hollow rasp. A ghost of a sound. "A man who thinks a stolen hammer and a loud voice can change the laws of compound interest. Do they have the keys to the vault, Elias? Or are they just here to burn the paper and pray the math disappears with the smoke?"
CRASH.
A ceiling panel shattered. A body dropped from the vent, hitting the marble floor with a sickening THUD. A young man. Thin. Covered in soot and grease. He held a jagged piece of pipe, his eyes burning with a feverish, desperate light.
Solar didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just looked at the boy's shoes. Cheap synthetic leather. Torn at the seams. "Your boots are three months past their warranty, boy," Solar said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet hiss. "According to my records, you still owe the Solar Group for the laces. Did you come here to settle the account? Or just to bleed on my floor?"
The boy screamed—a raw, animal sound—and lunged. Solar didn't use a gun. He used his heavy, bone-handled cane. WHACK. He caught the boy across the knees. CRACK. The sound of bone snapping echoed through the archives.
"The Dragon is a mathematician, boy," Solar whispered, leaning over the crumpled form on the floor. "And you? You're just a rounding error."
He turned back to the shelves, thousands of ledger books filled with the secrets of Aethelgard. The "Slayers" were coming from every side now. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and burning paper.
"Audit the intrusion, Elias!" Solar roared. "I want the names of every man who touched the walls today. I want their family trees. I want their medical records. If they think they can slay the dragon, they should know that the dragon owns the fire they're using."
BOOM.
An explosion from the lower levels shook the tower. The lights flickered and turned a sickly, emergency red. CLICK. CLICK. In the crimson gloom, Solar looked like a demon made of shadow and ink. He picked up a heavy pen—obsidian and silver—and started to write in the main ledger. SCRATCH. SCRATCH.
"They're burning the southern archives, sir!" Elias shrieked. "Ten thousand contracts! All gone!"
Solar laughed. A jagged, cold sound. HA. HA. "Gone? You think paper is the debt, Elias? The paper is just the receipt. The debt is in their memories. It's in the way they look at their children and know they have nothing to give them. You can't burn an audit that's written in the soul. Let them burn the building. I'll just charge them for the demolition."
He walked toward the main elevator, stepping over the groaning "Slayers" on the floor. He didn't feel pity. He didn't feel rage. He just felt the cold, hard logic of the hunt.
"The Shadow is waiting downstairs," Elias whispered, his voice trembling. "He says he's come to collect the 'Dragon's' head."
Solar adjusted his cufflinks—human bone—and watched the elevator floor numbers descend. 10. 9. 8. "He can have the head, Elias. But the interest? The interest is mine. Forever."
He poured a glass of clear, perfectly filtered water from a flask. He drank it slowly, savoring the chill as the tower around him began to scream. The final audit wasn't in the books. It was in the blood on the floor. And Solar was the only one who knew how to balance the ledger of a dying city.
The interest never sleeps. And tonight? The Dragon was hungry for more than just gold.