Tap, tap-tap.
Like a programmer, Amon’s fingers danced across the keyboard, and the screen responded with a rich display of emotions.
[So your marrrrrrrr… Hold on.
(•`_’)]
After displaying an angry ASCII face, the Mercenary King returned.
[Sorry. There are four lunatics living in my head. This happens sometimes. Where were we?]
“The Holy City is being flooded with lunatics, just like the ones in your head.”
[Figures…]
“You have a hunch, don’t you?”
The screen displayed a series of repeating ellipses.
After a long loading pause, the Mercenary King spoke again.
[Looks like one of the lunatics that lived in my head spawned outside.]
“What?”
[I don’t know for sure. My only means of interacting with the world is this terminal.]
The Mercenary King was unable to see, hear, or feel.
Sealed away in a coffin, he was completely isolated from the world.
Among the Super AIs, there were monsters capable of traversing different realms of cognition.
To ensure his main body remained perfectly sealed, the Mercenary King had no choice but to completely sever his own cognition.
Even the limited communication he maintained through his terminal was encrypted for security reasons.
[And you were the one who entered the password.]
Clap, clap, clap.
The Mercenary King applauded the first person he’d spoken to in sixty years.
Amon felt an odd sense of familiarity as he typed.
“You’re straying off-topic again.”
[Understandable. I’m just lonely.]
“You said it ‘spawned’? What do you mean?”
[You don’t know what spawning is?]
“I do, but I wanted to confirm.”
[It’s exactly what you’re thinking. While my main body is stuck inside my head doing some kind of Boombayah dance, a fragment of it has been running wild outside, replicating itself.]
“How?”
[No idea. I ran a full integrity check, and there’s no sign of my main body escaping on its own. Someone must have physically scanned my brain.]
“Can you tell who?”
[Sorry. I can’t even tell if someone’s opened my coffin. Even if someone shoves a— never mind. I wouldn’t know.]
“Hey, there are women here too.”
[Apologies again. Like I said, I don’t know anything beyond this terminal. I don’t even know who’s next to you. For all I know, you and that woman could be— damn. Sorry. It’s been sixty years, okay?]
As expected of a former mercenary, his way of speaking was rough.
Amon, growing impatient, typed again.
“Then it’s no different from a data extraction.”
[Hey, typo. But it’s not as dangerous as you think.]
“Why not?”
[Do you think these things are just chunks of code? You think you can copy them with a simple brain scan?]
There was a lot behind that question.
As he implied, Super AIs were more than just code.
They were either miracles or inexplicable disasters.
Beings that transcended the network and affected reality couldn’t be reproduced through mere pattern analysis.
Which meant the ones outside were inferior copies.
Realizing this, Amon let out a sigh of relief.
“Safe, my ass. You might see them as lesser versions, but to ordinary people, even an inferior copy is still a disaster.”
[Is that so? Either way, what’s out there is nothing more than an illegal duplication. But something’s odd.]
“What is?”
[To scan my brain, someone would have to open my coffin first. But there aren’t many people who know the password.]
“Who?”
[First, that brat from the brokerage.]
Amon turned to the Broker, who shook his head vehemently, insisting on his innocence.
Amon agreed—it didn’t seem likely.
“He says it wasn’t him.”
[He’s there with you? Damn. How old is he now? About ninety?]
“Hey. Focus.”
[Sorry. Back to the point—my old comrades…]
The Broker cut in.
“They’re all dead. Crow went out in a blaze fighting some corrupt megacorp…”
Amon relayed everything.
After a brief pause, the Mercenary King continued.
[They all went out like heroes.]
He tried to sound indifferent, but a faint sorrow seeped through his words.
[So that rules them out. No one else should know the password. But does it even matter? You already know what that cardinal did to me.]
“That’s true.”
[Then what are you waiting for? Go stop him already.]
Despite his lingering doubts, Amon nodded.
There were more pressing matters to handle on the surface.
He could talk later.
“I’ll come back to talk again.”
[You’re welcome anytime. It’s been sixty years since anyone spoke to me. Before you go.]
“Hm?”
[Run the sleep command. Otherwise, I’ll have to stay awake and wait.]
“What’s the command?”
[Good night, cowboy. It was disgusting knowing you. Let’s never meet again.]
“…Seriously?”
[Something along those lines works.]
Amon hesitated for a moment before typing, with reverence for the hero who had once saved the world.
“Good night, cowboy. I’ll do my best never to need you again.”
As soon as the command was entered, the screen flickered with static.
The Mercenary King’s responses deteriorated into meaningless gibberish, just as before.
Amon and his group turned away from the frost-covered coffin and headed for the surface.
***
Long after they left, the monitor next to the coffin briefly displayed a single message.
[Good luck, Paladin.]
Back on the surface, Amon divided the team into two.
“Father, Sonia—you go see the Minister of Internal Affairs. Cassie and I will meet Heinrich.”
One day remained until the conclave.
Time was running out.
Just as Amon was about to rush off, Sonia called after him.
“Wait, Amon.”
“What?”
“You don’t look good.”
Amon touched the corner of his mouth.
Only then did he realize how tense his expression was.
“It’s nothing.”
“Is it really that shocking?”
Amon nodded stiffly.
To him, Heinrich had been more than a comrade—he was family.
That’s why Heinrich’s corruption was hitting him harder than anyone else’s.
Sonia silently embraced him.
“At least talk to him. It might be a misunderstanding.”
“You know it’s not.”
“Even so, you should hear him out. Not for him—for yourself. Talking is—”
“The beginning of acceptance.”
Amon felt a little lighter.
Sonia, as if to reassure him, kissed him softly.
When they parted, she smiled.
“I’ll handle persuading the minister.”
Leaving that to her, Amon headed toward Heinrich.
On the way, Cassie seemed oddly restless.
Amon chuckled.
“You’re just like me.”
“Huh? What do you mean? No, no, I’m fine.”
“Cassie.”
“Mm?”
“Your worth isn’t tied to that. The Cassie I admired was a woman who stood tall even without foresight.”
Something in his words struck a chord in her, and she steeled her resolve.
“Let’s hurry. Before the cardinal catches on.”
They quickened their pace toward Heinrich’s residence.
As soon as they arrived, the front door swung open, as if expecting them.
Amon and Cassie hesitantly stepped inside.
The elevator descended, already prepared to take them down.
By now, suspicion had turned into certainty.
Amon reached the cardinal’s door without issue.
Before he could press the doorbell—
“It’s open.”
At the response, Amon sighed.
He pushed the door open.
Seated on the sofa was Heinrich.
Bathed in an air of solitude, he poured wine into a small glass.
“This is my blood,”
“The blood of the covenant.”
Amon sat across from him.
Their eyes met.
Gazing into Heinrich’s violently trembling pupils, Amon finally managed to speak.
“What were you looking for in Marbas’ treasury?”
“I brought back some technology for turning the human brain into a computer.”
At those words, Cassie’s shoulders flinched.
Amon took her hand to steady her and continued the questioning.
“And what did you create with it?”
“… Since extracting a brain was impossible, I scanned them instead and created a few AIs. They were just inferior copies, though.”
“The AI must have informed you that we were coming, correct?”
The cardinal nodded.
“You must have seen everything. From the moment we left the Vatican, our return, and even our visit to the catacombs—everything.”
Heinrich nodded again.
In this highly digitized world, there was no place without cameras.
‘If someone had the ability to hack every device, tracking a single person would be effortless.’
Amon looked up at the ceiling and asked, “Why didn’t you stop us?”
There were countless ways he could have.
He could have disabled their car, caused a truck accident, or even brought down their plane.
‘If the real entity was capable of much worse, then even its degraded copy should have been able to do something.’
Heinrich did not deny that he could have intervened.
“For a moment, I considered it.”
“Then why…?”
“Amon, if it weren’t you, I would have.”
***
Heinrich swallowed down the bitterness rising in his throat.
“I started this to prove my faith. If it were any other corrupt priest, I could have stopped them for any reason. But stopping you would have meant denying everything.”
Though, whether I could have stopped you in the first place is another question.
He muttered to himself with self-mockery.
Amon remained silent in front of the murmuring cardinal.
“I wish I had met you sooner. At least twenty years… no, even ten years earlier would have been enough.”
Instead of drinking the wine in his glass, Heinrich pushed it aside.
Wine, which symbolized the blood of the saint, also represented atonement.
Understanding the meaning behind the cardinal’s actions, Amon asked, “Why?”
“Haven’t I told you? To prove my faith.”
“You know that explanation isn’t enough.”
“…Who knows.”
Heinrich pulled a pendant from his pocket.
When Amon saw what was inside, his eyes widened.
Crow.
The female gunner who had once been the Mercenary King’s comrade.
Amon looked at Heinrich in shock.
This time, Heinrich gazed at the ceiling and began speaking absentmindedly.
“Was it because she was born between a mercenary king and a revolutionary, yet was never loved by her parents, only forced to carry on their grand vision?”
“…?”
“Or was it because she was raised by an uncle who adopted her and taught her faith, only for that uncle to ultimately fall into corruption?”
“…”
“Or perhaps it was because the only being she could trust in this world was the Holy Mother, and she couldn’t contain her fury toward the priests who blasphemed her.”
The atmosphere in the room grew heavier.
Amon barely managed to part his lips to speak.
“Do you resent the Goddess?”
“How could I? My birth, the good people I’ve met, the peace I’ve felt—it’s all thanks to Her grace.”
“I see.”
Amon evaluated Heinrich coldly.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I won’t deny it.”
***
It must have been unbearable for him.
The influence of religion was weakening day by day, and the one being he devoted himself to was increasingly ignored by the world.
Because he purely revered his god, he couldn’t endure reality—and so he took action.
Unfortunately, he had his mother’s physical prowess and his father’s intellect.
What could have been dismissed as mere delusions, he had the power to bring to life.
“I know I’m contradicting myself. But what can I do? The moment humanity tasted the fruit of knowledge, contradiction became part of our existence.”
“I haven’t noticed any contradictions in you until now.”
“If you’re aware that you’ve lost your mind, hiding it isn’t too difficult. Of course, what I’ve shown you was never a lie or an act.”
“I know.”
Before a true believer, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
That was why Heinrich had no choice but to conceal the truth in front of Amon.
“If you hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have resorted to such crude methods. I would have used a much more discreet biochemical weapon.”
But then Saint Sonia appeared before him, and he met Amon.
So, he had to hastily revise his plans.
He had twisted his strategies forcefully, leaving traces and gaps in his plans.
Yet, he had no regrets.
“Still, I’m grateful to have met you, Brother Amon.”
“Then surrender now.”
Amon didn’t draw his sword but kept it sheathed in his grip.
However, Heinrich shook his head.
“How could I stop now? It’s been twenty years.”
Ten years sharpening his claws.
Ten years preparing for war.
He couldn’t abandon it all.
But Amon didn’t give up trying to persuade him.
“Life is long. You still have time.”
“I know. My future is longer than my past.”
“Then—”
“But I can’t do it. How could I continue living while compromising with this wretched world?”
“Even so, this method isn’t right. What you’re doing goes against doctrine—this is heresy.”
“I’ve already broken doctrine.”
As if confessing, Heinrich spoke with brutal honesty.
“I’ve committed too many sins on the way here.”
Most recently, he had driven the cardinals insane and summoned demons into the Holy City.
Going further back, he had orchestrated the pope’s assassination through heretics to set his plan in motion.
His list of sins continued to stretch further into the past.
Among them…
“I sold the technology to turn human brains into computers to the wife of an investment firm’s CEO.”
Cassie felt her heart drop.
The truth overwhelmed her, and she muttered blankly.
“Wh… Why?”
“I needed to make people turn to the Goddess. And you were heretics.”
“…What?”
“Despite being descended from the great Prophet, your family used the power of foresight for the benefit of a mere bloodline instead of the Goddess. You know better than anyone how corrupt your family was.”
“Then… everything…”
“Yes. It was all in the palm of my hand.”
Cassie couldn’t listen anymore.
She lunged with her spear.
But before it could reach Heinrich, it stopped in midair.
A familiar sensation.
The moment her spear had been hacked, wresting control from her.
‘No way!’
A weapon that should have been rendered useless by an EMP had been hacked.
A scientifically impossible event.
For a moment, she shuddered at the power Amon had warned her about—the AI’s influence.
But that fear was immediately swallowed by rage.
“I’ll never forgive you—”
“Cassie. Calm down.”
At that moment, Amon wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“He’s provoking you.”
“You heard him! Everything went according to his plan!”
“Think rationally. If that were true, do you think your father would have just stood by?”
“Ah…”
“The brain-computer knowledge was probably real. But from that point onward, it was out of his control. Isn’t that right, Heinrich?”
At Amon’s words, Heinrich let out a bitter smile.
“Sharp as always.”
“Did you really have to provoke her?”
“You needed to see me as your enemy.”
“What?”
“I felt like I could only follow through with my will if you opposed me.”
Cassie couldn’t understand, but Amon did.
Their exchange of faith, however brief, had been sincere.
But for Heinrich, his conviction outweighed his faith.
Still, Amon tried one last time.
“Surrender. If you stop now—”
“You know it’s too late for that.”
“…At the very least, you can stop sinning against the Goddess.”
“I’m sorry. But I am human.”
Before he finished speaking, Heinrich pulled out a gun.
Before he could pull the trigger, Amon’s blade severed his right wrist.
Without hesitation, Heinrich fired with his remaining hand, the bullet piercing Amon’s left shoulder.
“Kh…”
Amon staggered.
Heinrich raised his arms in the shape of a cross.
Amon did the same with his sword.
Both took a deep breath and spoke at the same time.
“Deus Vult.”
Their voices, unlike before, carried no fury—only bitter resignation.