The sight of the once formidable bodyguards collapsing one by one was surreal.
It left an impression that was more than just surreal—it felt dreamlike.
In the midst of it all, Amon recalled what the priest had once told him.
[Only one person in a region can possess divine power.]
The reason for this is simple: divine power and mystical power are manifestations of collective belief.
When specific beliefs gather and accumulate in one area, they eventually become mystical or divine power.
These powers then imbue someone or something, resulting in the birth of either a divine power bearer or an entity.
However, when a certain amount of divine or mystical power accumulates, it doesn’t just imbue something randomly.
It adheres periodically and only one entity can form per region.
So, when a divine power bearer is born, if you were to draw a circle around them within a certain distance, no other divine power bearer could emerge within that circle.
This was the first time Amon had ever heard of this rule.
At the same time, Amon himself was an exception to this rule.
That’s why, when he first heard about it, he didn’t believe it.
Even the priest who told him about it seemed confused.
However, Amon soon realized why this rule didn’t apply to him.
‘I wasn’t born from people’s beliefs, after all.’
He wasn’t sure what exactly the goddess did, but it was clear that his divine power came from her.
With this thought, he recalled a scene from Punk City 1.
It was a quest where the player had to massacre a steampunk cult, and depending on the choices made, the player could end up as a sacrifice.
In that case, their divine power would be drained by a demonic symbol, leading to a game over.
However, if the player received a blessing from a holy relic during the quest, they could survive even if their divine power was drained.
The reason such a choice existed was that, while stopping the demon from being summoned was more convenient, it meant missing out on the demon’s drop items.
So, those who needed the demon’s drop items would intentionally receive the blessing, allow their divine power to be drained once, and then defeat the summoned demon.
By that logic, Amon had no problem having his divine power drained.
After all, his divine power was directly bestowed by the goddess herself.
“Of course, it’s divine power. The effects are killer, aren’t they?”
Amon muttered as he watched the employees collapse in front of him.
However, there were still survivors amidst the chaos.
The chairman and the doctor.
Even in this catastrophe, they were barely hanging on.
Amon had a good idea why.
“Wow. Just how much did they load up on implants?”
In front of Amon, the chairman’s consciousness flickered in and out.
His implants restarted his heart every time it stopped, and his oxygen-starved brain was somehow kept supplied with air.
By repeatedly dying and reviving, the chairman was barely clinging to life.
But with each revival, his face grew more and more gaunt.
The doctor, who was more machine than human, was also just barely staying alive.
‘Not much time left for them.’
Amon decided not to finish them off.
However, he made sure to stay and watch as the two would eventually die.
He dragged a chair over in front of them to observe their deaths.
The doctor squeezed out a question, his voice strained.
“Why…!”
That single word was all he could muster.
Even in his flickering consciousness, the mad scientist was desperate to understand the situation.
The answer to his question was already in Amon’s mind.
Any attempt to artificially create mystical power would always end in disaster.
If a saint could be created so easily just by cramming a hundred people’s worth of mystical power into one vessel, why hadn’t the Vatican tried something like this already?
The answer was simple.
They had.
And on a far larger scale than the Hexen Group ever had.
They’d used thousands of people as sacrifices and transformed an entire city into a summoning circle.
The result? Failure. And it was wiped from history.
‘Strictly speaking, they did succeed in creating something…’
The problem was that what they created wasn’t a saint, a daughter of God, but the Antichrist.
Logically speaking, a savior of humanity couldn’t possibly be born from the sacrifice of thousands of people.
What such a ritual birthed wasn’t a saint, a divine power generator, but an Antichrist, a divine power converter.
Unlike saints, who freely created apostles and gave divine power to others, the Antichrist transformed ordinary people into destructive entities.
‘That was the plot of the first game, after all.’
The Vatican summoned a demon, and the protagonist, a steampunk-era mercenary, had to clean up the mess, traversing across Europe and the Middle East.
Knowing that story, Amon had been certain that the company’s Saint Project would fail.
‘Though, if you think about it, maybe the company’s wish was fulfilled in a different way. You could still power a generator with an entity.’
This story was a dark chapter in the Vatican’s history.
Perhaps only the pope himself knew about it now.
But it wouldn’t have been a difficult issue for the pope to deal with.
Whether the Hexen Group summoned a saint or the Antichrist, the Vatican would oppose it either way.
There was no need to tell the priests about the Antichrist, after all.
Just telling them to stop the birth of an artificial saint would suffice.
Amon felt confident that he could explain all these details to the doctor.
‘But I don’t owe him that explanation.’
There was no reason to tell him.
‘Who knows if this guy will suddenly come back to life later.’
After all, his body had already been replaced with machines.
Caution was not unwarranted.
Amon remained silent.
The doctor, burdened with unanswered questions, eventually stopped breathing.
Amon then turned his gaze to the chairman.
The chairman, using far more expensive equipment than the doctor, held onto life a bit longer.
But not for much longer, it seemed.
Their eyes met.
The chairman didn’t seem curious about anything.
He only looked sorrowful.
“Not being able to kill you… is my greatest regret…”
The chairman, his mind fading in and out, somehow managed to string together his words.
But did he know?
That he had repeated the same sentence six times already?
Still, the fact that he could keep his mind somewhat intact was impressive.
‘With this kind of mental fortitude, no wonder he became the chairman of a megacorp.’
However, there was one thing Amon needed to correct.
“You’re not going to die.”
The chairman’s eyes widened at Amon’s words.
Seeing is believing, after all.
Amon pointed at one of the bodyguards who had just started changing.
“Death is not an escape, Chairman.”
For humans who violated the taboos set by God, divine punishment was inevitable.
Humans who ignored the goddess’s warnings and fell into corruption were purified by a flood.
The Tower of Babel, which had challenged the goddess’s authority, was toppled.
The cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, which mocked the angels of the goddess, were consumed in flames of sulfur.
So, what punishment awaited those who tried to drag divine power into the realm of man?
They were denied rest.
Sleep, peace, and death.
All forms of rest were taken from them.
There are many terms to describe such beings.
The abandoned child of the goddess, the beast walking through the abyss, the beggar of ashes.
Throughout different ages, various expressions were used to name them, but in modern times, one word is most familiar.
Monster.
Depending on the type of failed experiment, the dungeon’s theme would vary.
If a genetic experiment failed, monsters or zombies would roam the area.
If an AI experiment failed, robots would appear.
But when mystical power experiments failed, the process of creating a dungeon was fundamentally different from the others.
At the scene of a failed mystical power experiment, the moment the dungeon boss was born, everything around it became distorted.
The space where the boss was born would transform into a dungeon, and those who lost their rest would have their souls bound to the dungeon.
They would then become monsters, wandering the dungeon.
Even if explorers entered the dungeon and killed them, they would resurrect, or “respawn,” while clinging to fragments of their human memories, obsessed with their last thoughts, endlessly roaming the dungeon.
This was the divine punishment imposed upon them.
Amon nodded as he watched those around him begin to change.
‘Ignorance is not a sin.’
They probably didn’t think they would turn into monsters.
After all, it was rare for mystical power experiments to fail, and the creation process of mystical dungeon monsters was not widely understood.
‘If they had known, they wouldn’t have conducted such experiments inside the headquarters.’
However.
‘Blasphemy is a sin.’
Not believing in God and daring to challenge the authority of the divine—this was deserving of punishment.
That’s why Amon felt no sympathy.
Not for the employees turning into low-level monsters.
Not for the elite bodyguards transforming into stronger monsters.
Not for the doctor becoming something like a strange mimic.
Amon believed this was the divine retribution they deserved.
‘At least the people who didn’t participate in this project won’t be punished.’
In short, the innocent would survive.
It was a dangerous way of thinking, but at least in this situation, it felt like the right thought.
Besides, even the most oblivious employees would probably leave the building by now, so Amon wasn’t worried about any innocent casualties.
Incidentally, the chairman muttered, “We have to sell it…” as he transformed into a mid-boss.
Judging from his last words, he likely became a gimmick-type boss.
As they transformed into monsters, the company building also began to change.
It seemed the structure was taking the form of a dungeon.
To welcome challengers and protect the boss, the building slowly altered its layout.
Before Amon realized it, the laboratory he was in had transformed into the dungeon boss room, and the bodyguards and chairman were relocated to different areas.
‘Oh. Nice.’
It was a happy mistake.
He had planned to create monsters and then make a run for the exit, but luckily, the monsters had moved away on their own.
‘Wait. Is that a good thing?’
Come to think of it, it wasn’t good at all.
The place he was standing was now the dungeon’s boss room.
It was the most dangerous place to be.
Amon immediately sprinted towards the exit.
But he had to stop when a voice called out from behind him.
“Apostle of the Goddess.”
A cold, emotionless voice echoed in the room.
It wasn’t coming from a human mouth, but rather, it was as if it resonated directly in his mind.
The boss was now staring at Amon with glowing red eyes.
At first glance, it looked like a beautiful woman.
But Amon couldn’t bring himself to like her.
No, calling it “her” was vague in itself.
That being was closer to genderless.
The dungeon boss opened its mouth.
“Kneel before me and worship. I will give you everything.”
The boss, with an expressionless face, manipulated the space around them.
Suddenly, the entire cityscape unfolded below them.
The boss, who had created this spectacle, spoke again.
“Bow in reverence, kiss my feet, and I will give you dominion over the ends of the earth. If not, I will destroy you.”
Amon frowned.
This is why he didn’t like the boss.
The boss had quoted a Bible verse upon its birth, but it wasn’t because the boss was sacred.
Contrary to popular belief, angels, demons, saints, and even the Antichrist—none of them were beings you could gaze upon without losing your mind and dying.
The only ones who could endure were those who were already insane or those with unwavering faith. (Both are pretty much the same thing.)
Amon couldn’t bring himself to recite lines praising demons, so he had simply quoted a Bible verse instead. But the boss was by no means a holy being.
‘This worm dares to impersonate the authority of the goddess…’
If it had been the shell of an unjustly wronged victim, or perhaps a newly born innocent soul that knew nothing, he might have tried to compromise.
If it had been a vengeful spirit seeking to punish those who experimented on it, he would have tried to guide it somehow.
But what stood before him was a demon.
A demon that had taken a hundred divine power bearers as sacrifices and insulted the goddess.
It was neither innocent nor wronged. It was pure evil in its very existence.
At least, unlike in the erased history, the sacrifice count had been too small for it to become a final boss-level Antichrist. But a demon was still a demon.
The fact that it immediately recognized Amon as an apostle and tried to test him confirmed that its very nature was evil.
Amon refused the demon’s offer.
Instead of responding, he simply raised his middle finger.
“Why should I?”
It was clear that serving such a being would only lead to destruction.
In fact, asking him to kneel and worship was just a fancy way of demanding that he treat it as a god and transform into an entity or monster.
That creature called it a ‘blessing,’ but to Amon, it was a curse.
Amon, being extremely wise, had no reason to accept the demon’s offer.
He decided not to waste any more words.
He turned around and headed straight for the exit of the boss room.
No matter how powerful the demon was, it was still, by nature, a boss.
Once he left the boss room, it wouldn’t be able to do anything.
Sensing Amon’s intention, the boss desperately tried to hold him back.
“Why do you fear me? You will not leave this place until I allow it.”
Amon flipped the boss off again as he heard its constant pleas from behind and sprinted toward the exit.
Finally, he reached the doorway.
It was at that moment.
A line that no one could ignore echoed from behind him.
“Is it because your goddess is a coward, stuck in the past, that her apostle is also running away?”
Amon’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
Seeing this, the boss showed emotion for the first time.
A slight smirk tugged at the corners of its lips.
‘In the end, your faith will be your downfall.’
The boss had never intended to spare Amon.
What it wanted was the beating heart within him, overflowing with mystical power.
It had no desire to make him an apostle.
Only by killing Amon could it obtain what it sought.
As expected, insulting the goddess had prevented Amon from leaving the boss room.
In fact, it seemed he was now preparing for a fight, gathering his weapons.
‘How foolish.’
It was like watching a moth fly into a flame.
The boss gazed at Amon with amusement.
It could attack him now, but having just been born, it wanted to test its strength first.
Arrogance.
Some would call it that, but the boss considered it confidence.
Finally, Amon finished preparing and turned to face the boss.
With his back to the boss, Amon gripped his swords in both hands and spoke.
“You come at me with sword and sorcery, but I come at you in the name of the Mother of All, the very goddess you have insulted.”
The boss stared into Amon’s muttering eyes.
The more anger and madness consumed him, the easier it would be to extract the mystical power from him.
But as the boss gazed deeper into Amon’s eyes, it recoiled in horror.
‘What… is this…?’
Madness.
Beyond his dark pupils, there was only madness.
His eyes, gleaming with insanity, glared at the boss.
Amon crossed his swords.
Grinding his teeth, his lips, smeared with lipstick like a split mouth, moved behind the cross of blades.
“The Lord will deliver you into my hands. I swear, I will strike you down and cut off your head, and I will give your carcass to the birds of the air. Today, all the earth will know the name of the Lord.”
Deus vult (The Lord wills it).
Amon whispered softly.
And the boss took a step back in fear.
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