Chapter 100: Do Corporate Lords Even Bleed?

In Cave No. 96, two hundred law enforcement officers clad in exoskeleton armor and armed with energy weapons had taken full control of the area, sealing off every surrounding mining tunnel.

At the cave’s center, several officials from the City Tax Bureau stood with terminals in hand, verifying the tax status of every single resident.

“Name: Brian.
Account Balance: 369 credit points.
After deducting thirty years of pre-collected Energy Tax, you owe the City Tax Bureau 143,631 credit points.
As per the law, you are to be sent to the Paradise Compute Center for twenty years of labor.”

“Name: Warren.
Account Balance: 1,145 credit points.
After deducting thirty years of—”

One after another, disheveled, hollow-eyed cave dwellers were registered and immediately sorted into two groups based on their ability to pay.

The left side was for those who complied and legally paid their tax—they remained free citizens.

The right side, however, was for tax defaulters—destined for the Paradise Compute Center to repay their debts through forced labor.

And from the start of registration until now, not a single one among the over three thousand residents of the cave had been able to pay the thirty-year Energy Tax in advance. The right side was already packed to the brim.

Some eyes flashed with hatred, others glared in unwillingness—but most were dull and numb.

“Name: Shaq.
Account Balance: 135,812,406 credit points.”

The moment this number was announced, even the Tax Bureau official recording it froze. Over a hundred million credits—an astronomical figure anywhere, let alone in the impoverished Lower District.

Instinctively, the staffer looked up at the muscular bald man before him, only to hear him declare boldly:

“I’ll pay their Energy Tax for them!”

At those words, a faint light returned to the eyes of many of the cave dwellers.

Meanwhile, the tax official’s expression turned ugly. He stammered awkwardly:

“Th-that’s against the rules!”

“Whose rules?” Shaq growled in a low voice.

“The regulation was just issued by the City Tax Bureau: Energy Tax collected in advance cannot be paid by anyone else!”

Before the man could finish, Shaq slammed his fist down, shattering the desk in front of him.

“Bullshit!”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to send us cave people into the Paradise Compute Center.
This isn’t about money—you’re out for blood!”

The commotion instantly drew the attention of the law enforcement guards nearby. One by one, energy rifles were raised and aimed at Shaq.

“Hands in the air!”

“Cease your resistance!”

“Disrupting the tax collection process means a direct transfer to the Paradise Compute Center!”

A chorus of shouts rang out, pulling all eyes toward the scene.

Shaq, enraged, shouted back:

“Brothers! These dogs from the Central and Upper Districts spin tales about taxes to steal our souls—and now they won’t even let us fight back.
How are they any different from demons?!
We might as well take this chance and rise up!

Do corporate lords even bleed?!”

To the law enforcement and Tax Bureau staff, Shaq’s dramatic performance was a complete joke.

They had long since sized up the cave dwellers—penniless, marked only with the lowest-level spirit tattoos, so weak even Central District children could beat them. Trash like this couldn’t possibly resist them.

But what happened next completely shattered their expectations.

Suddenly, shouts of agreement burst from the crowd.

“Well said!”

“Screw ‘em all!”

“Those lackeys from the surface should die!”

With a wave of curses, over a hundred figures surged from the crowd, charging straight at the law enforcement officers.

They moved with terrifying speed. Some were barehanded, yet they tore through exoskeleton armor with ease. The officers with guns might as well have been children—their defenses were shredded like paper.

“They’re spirit energy users!”

The officers reacted immediately, opening fire, but the scene dissolved into utter chaos. From the sealed mining tunnels came war cries, and spirit energy users erupted from every direction, instantly overwhelming the two hundred law enforcers.

Most officers were killed in the first wave of clashes. The survivors were stripped of their armor and weapons.

Then, the spirit energy users tossed the now-naked officers and tax officials into the crowd of cave dwellers—and vanished from Cave No. 96.

The wounded officers and officials initially panicked, but upon realizing that they were surrounded by trembling, timid civilians, their courage returned.

“Whoever helps send me back to the surface gets 1,000 credit points!”

There was no doubt—most cave dwellers couldn’t earn 1,000 credits in a month. Just a few days ago, such an offer would’ve had them fighting each other to accept it.

But now?

Every last one of them was burdened with enormous tax debt due to the pre-collection policy. Even if they got the credits, what good would it do? They were headed to the Paradise Compute Center either way.

Their vacant stares filled the officials with rage. They had nothing left after paying their own taxes. Offering 1,000 credits was already pushing their limits.

Yet the cave people showed no gratitude. All they could do now was threaten:

“Send us back to the surface and we’ll let bygones be bygones.
But if you insist on defying us, you’re no different from the rebels who attacked us.
When the main law enforcement battalion arrives, you’ll all be punished!”

The mention of the battalion finally stirred some unease among the cave dwellers. The crowd began to shift and murmur.

Seeing this, a wounded officer’s eyes lit up. He raised his voice again:

“This is your final chance! Once the law enforcement battalion arrives, they won’t be as forgiving as us.
You might be executed on the spot—without even the ‘privilege’ of being sent to the Paradise Compute Center!”

The threat hung in the air.

Then, a voice rang out from the crowd:

“If we help them, we’re sent to the Paradise Compute Center.
If we don’t, we’ll be executed by the enforcement team.
Either way, we die.
So why the hell should we help the bastards bleeding us dry?”

With that, a ragged cave dweller picked up a heavy stone from the ground and smashed it down onto the wounded officer’s skull.

The blow cracked open his head, blood gushing. In his final moments, the officer roared in fury:

“You damned vermin—I’ll have you torn to pieces!”

But the threat did nothing. More and more cave dwellers followed suit, lifting stones and hurling them at the downed officers.

One rock. Two. Three.
A storm of stones rained down, fueled by years of repressed rage.

Half an hour later, the corpses of the law enforcement team lay buried beneath a mountain of rubble, faces twisted in terror.

With their fury finally unleashed, the cave people turned to the remaining tax bureau officials. They surrounded them, smashed them with stones and wooden clubs, and beat them to death.

From the distant mine tunnel, Shaq nodded with satisfaction—then turned to head toward the next cave.

The same uprising began to erupt in every tax-collecting cave.

And on just the first day of the thirty-year Energy Tax enforcement, a wave of unprecedented resistance exploded beneath the ground.

(End of Chapter)