Seventy percent of urban crimes occur at night.
From the fourth floor of a church with a flashing red cross, a man jumped.
Thunk.
He landed lightly on the ground, as if he had leapt once from the second floor and again from the first.
Amon landed safely, sighed, and removed his hood.
It had been a month since he began planning his infiltration of the church.
The moment he heard the news that Shaun Lai had completely disbanded, Amon put his plan into action.
Using the cover of night, he kicked through the air three times and slipped through an unlocked window, spending an hour inside before coming back out.
As Amon finished his investigation, Sonia approached him.
“How was it?”
Amon shook his head.
“They’re smart. I think it’s hidden underground.”
Initially, Amon had guessed that the cult leader’s room might be located on an upper floor, like in some hospitals.
However, the leader’s chamber was positioned underground—a wise choice.
In this world, unless a building was about 30 floors high, it made more sense to place critical spaces like a CEO’s office underground.
This was especially true when there were people who could perform triple jumps like Amon, scale walls, or fly undetected by radar.
At least with underground rooms, the only way in was through tunnels, which were much easier to guard.
This church was no different.
The priest of this church, where Cassie’s brother Owen was rumored to attend, had his private quarters underground.
The priest claimed it was because “a priest should not look down upon their congregation,” but neither Amon nor Sonia believed that.
“So, how are we getting down there?” Sonia asked.
Amon shrugged.
“Who do you think I am?”
“Amon.”
“…The guy who infiltrated the heart of the Hexen Group.”
Having previously bypassed the security of a megacorp, Amon considered infiltrating a local church child’s play.
Sonia, guessing his meaning, hunched her shoulders.
“Don’t tell me… you’re going to crossdress again?”
She wore an expression of distaste but with a faint sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.
It was a mix of intrigue and revulsion, two contradictory emotions coexisting.
However, the subject of her remark, Amon, reacted with a vehement denial, bordering on a tantrum.
“Absolutely not. Never again.”
One experience with crossdressing had been more than enough.
Besides, this church’s priest wasn’t like the Hexen Group chairman’s son, who had a notorious fondness for women.
Crossdressing wouldn’t help here.
Amon had something entirely different in mind.
“There’s a sort of password to get downstairs. All I have to do is say it confidently.”
The plan was simple: pretend to be there for confession, prove he was a member of the congregation, and gain access.
It was a shoddy security system, but cults couldn’t afford strict protocols; it made recruitment difficult.
Amon intended to exploit that.
“Really? Well, I’m no good at that, so you take the lead,” Sonia said.
“Leave it to me.”
Amon led Sonia into the church with confidence.
The church was open to everyone 24 hours a day, but it was nearly empty at night.
Amon moved toward the stairs leading underground.
Two armed guards stood glaring at the base of the stairs.
‘So, it’s not exactly a normal church.’
Amon approached, observing their weapons carefully.
He and Sonia had hidden their gear deep within their clothing, wrapped in special fabric, so they appeared to be harmless civilians.
Still, the guards stopped them.
“What can we help you with? The prayer room is on the second floor.”
The guards spoke politely, likely because Amon and Sonia might be church members.
However, their fingers rested on their triggers, watching Amon cautiously.
Amon played the part of a nervous, slightly timid civilian.
“Um… I heard I need to go underground for confession…”
“Who referred you to us?”
“Brother Owen.”
“Ah, so Brother Owen brought you here,” one of the guards said, his tone relaxing slightly.
But that alone wasn’t enough for them to let Amon pass.
“What is it you’d like the priest to do for you?”
This was the password Amon had mentioned.
If someone said something like “to hear my worries” or “to offer me comfort,” they would be directed to the first-floor confession booths.
To go underground, the correct response was, “I came to receive a revelation.”
Amon had learned this after searching the personal drawers of a nun on the fourth floor.
He recalled this information and opened his mouth to speak.
“To receive a—”
As soon as the word began to leave his lips, the guards visibly relaxed.
‘Ah, this one’s a real believer.’
Their muscles loosened, already preparing to step aside.
That was when it happened.
Thud!
Amon’s uppercut smashed into one guard’s jaw, sending him sprawling unconscious.
Before the other guard could react, Amon struck his throat and swept his legs out from under him, slamming him to the ground.
A quick twist of the neck rendered the man unconscious.
The entire sequence took less than two seconds.
***
From behind, Sonia stared at Amon with a dumbfounded expression.
“I thought you said you knew the password?”
“I do. I just…”
“You just?”
“I just couldn’t bring myself to speak false faith.”
“Ugh… figures.”
“Let’s move these guys. Toss them into a bathroom stall or something.”
“Someone might notice they’re missing.”
“That’s why we came during the night. Still, let’s hurry.”
“Fine…” Sonia sighed, helping Amon drag the unconscious guards to the restroom.
***
After that, the pair descended underground.
Though Amon initially attempted to act as a devout cult member, he quickly grew impatient and resorted to snapping necks when necessary.
Fortunately, their cleanup was thorough, and the late hour meant few people were around to notice.
Finally, they reached the church’s innermost sanctum.
At the deepest part of the underground level stood a thick iron door with a white sign:
[Receiving Revelation! Do Not Disturb.]
Sonia glanced at the door with a cold expression and muttered, “So that’s where the priest went.”
Before reaching the door, they had already searched the priest’s office.
They picked the locked door and found it empty, but discovered documents about the so-called “revelation.”
What they read was too horrifying to ignore.
“So, we’re going to see this revelation for ourselves?”
“Well, we’ve come this far. No turning back now.”
Originally, leaving after finding the documents would have been the logical choice.
But the contents of the revelation were far too monstrous to let slide.
Amon and Sonia were neither adults nor champions of justice, but they knew leaving things as they were might put Cassie in danger.
“Then, I’ll break it open,” Sonia said.
Amon stepped back from the iron door.
Sonia placed her hands on the door, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate.
“awp dake dleidy doxn si he,” she murmured, her words incomprehensible to Amon.
Immediately, a glowing circle appeared on the door.
Amon kicked the center of the glowing circle.
Thunk!
The metallic center fell out, leaving a massive hole in the door, wide enough for both of them to pass through.
Amon took the lead.
“Let’s go.”
Sonia followed close behind.
Any semblance of stealth was long gone now that they had committed to disrupting the so-called “revelation.”
The moment they entered, all eyes in the room turned to them.
Among those present were the priest in his robes and several others in white lab coats, resembling scientists.
Amon and Sonia each drew their weapons: Amon revealed a crossbow, while Sonia pulled out a pistol.
The equipment wasn’t designed for full combat but was more than enough to handle their current adversaries.
Amon dashed toward the scientists.
Leaping into the air, he soared over their heads and fired his crossbow.
Thwip! Thwip!
The bolts pierced both of the priest’s knees, immobilizing him.
“Ugh!”
The agony of his shattered knees left the priest gasping for breath, unable even to scream.
While Amon prevented the priest from escaping, Sonia aimed her pistol steadily and pulled the trigger.
Pop.
The silenced shot pierced the wrist of a scientist reaching for the alarm switch.
Two more precise shots rendered him completely incapacitated.
From there, Amon and Sonia systematically targeted the shoulders and knees of the remaining scientists.
Though Amon’s crossbow occasionally missed, Sonia’s aim was impeccable.
Before long, all the scientists were neutralized, either clutching their wounds or writhing in pain.
***
While Sonia quickly tended to the bleeding scientists to prevent them from dying outright, Amon grabbed the priest by the back of his neck and forced him into a chair.
He shoved a stack of documents from the priest’s office in front of him.
“Where’s the wet supercomputer?” Amon demanded.
The priest, delirious with pain, snapped to attention at Amon’s words.
“How… how do you know about that? Are you with Shaun Lai’s intelligence unit?”
“No.”
Amon didn’t feel the need to correct the priest’s assumptions but wanted nothing to do with those kinds of people.
“The CIA?”
“No.”
“Then who—”
“Do you not understand the situation? Just answer my question.”
Amon knew the truth wouldn’t matter.
No one would believe they were doing this purely out of personal conviction.
Growing impatient, Amon pointed his crossbow at the priest’s groin.
The priest, trembling, reluctantly opened his mouth.
“It’s in the central unit… that computer over there.”
“Stay here. We’ll deal with you later.”
Amon left the priest slumped in the chair and approached the indicated computer.
The machine was surprisingly compact.
Amon removed the cover, but the internals appeared ordinary.
“Did he lie to me?”
“No. Check beneath the floor,” the priest said weakly.
Following the priest’s advice, Amon pried up one of the floor tiles.
And then—
“Ugh… what the hell…!”
Involuntarily, Amon cursed.
Beneath the tiles was a transparent acrylic floor, revealing what lay underneath: computer components interwoven with countless wires and… human brains floating in tanks.
Since the creation of supercomputers, many had attempted to use them to predict the future.
Rulers, corporations, and scientists believed that with enough processing power and advanced AI, simulating the future was possible.
But none had succeeded.
The reason was simple: human emotions were an unpredictable variable.
While it was possible to predict trends in large groups with 75% accuracy, the remaining 25% often hinged on individual emotions or sudden acts of persuasion, completely altering the future.
When it came to predicting individuals, the success rate plummeted to 55%.
Even those operating the supercomputers—scientists and rulers—were emotional beings, making the system inherently flawed.
In short, emotions were beyond the predictive capacity of AI and CPUs.
Then, one scientist had a radical idea.
“What if we used human emotions themselves as components?”
The proposal, horrifying as it was, found a patron in a power-hungry individual who saw human lives as expendable.
The result was a wet supercomputer, combining human brains, processing units, and AI.
This monstrous machine succeeded in predicting individuals with alarming accuracy.
The more brains networked into the system, the more variables it could account for, including complex human relationships and emotions.
This wet computer was operating beneath the church, disguised as “revelation.”
“You’re less than an animal,” Amon spat.
“Please, spare me—”
Pop.
Amon pulled the trigger, and the priest’s lifeless body slumped to the floor.
The origins of those brains needed no explanation.
In a city rampant with human trafficking and murder, disappearances from a church service went unnoticed.
This was too insignificant to even warrant an investigation.
Amon gazed coldly at the tanks of brains.
Then, something the priest had said earlier struck him as odd.
“The permission of a ruler,” Amon muttered, uneasy.
He immediately turned back to the documents.
Scanning through the computer’s files and administrator information, he recalled Cassie’s father, the head of the Reketio family.
However, as he delved deeper, Amon’s suspicions about Cassie’s father faded.
Instead, one name emerged: Cassie’s mother.
[Mary Illya]
Amon had initially believed her to be a victim of the cult.
But he was wrong.
[Directive from Cult Leader Illya received.]
Mary Illya wasn’t just a follower—she was the leader.
What shocked him even more was her reasoning.
She wasn’t foolish or delusional.
Her motivation was disturbingly rational.
[The blood of Reketio is blessed by God. They are prophets who can glimpse fragments of the future.
But God has abandoned my son. He is not allowed to see the future.]
[Though God, my husband, and the family elders have forsaken my son, I cannot abandon him.]
Mary wasn’t foolish—she was unhinged.
[Research Log. Year XXXX, Month X, Day X]
[The computer is nearly complete. The prototype in the church basement will be given to the priest.
This is because the computer is still incomplete.]
[Sadness, joy, anger—it could calculate almost every emotion. But it could not calculate love.]
[AI could not comprehend the lengths humans would go to for love.]
[So, I decided to complete the final key and present it to my son.]
[Owen, my dear son. I’ve always regretted giving birth to you this way.
This is the only gift your inadequate mother can offer you.]
[As lacking as I may be, I am confident that no one can surpass my love for you.
The computer will offer you clearer revelations the more it reflects my love for you.]
[Do not grieve, my son. I am not dying. I will watch over you forever.]
[Everything I’ve done is for you.]
Mary Illya wasn’t just unhinged—she was utterly deranged.