The Holy Land of Mercenaries, the State of California.
Countless mercenaries head to the mercenary brokerage early in the morning, and ordinary office workers and self-employed individuals get caught in buses and subways.
While large-scale population movements occur when the morning sun rises, the mornings of Amon and Sonia arrived relatively late.
“Ugh…”
“Did you wake up?”
After finishing early morning prayers, Amon prepared breakfast for Sonia.
Sonia’s schooling was always later than others.
She might not know what the Vatican would think about providing her with a scholarship, but she had no intention of becoming an elite holy knight through separate seminary training.
All she needed was sacred magic, just one.
Therefore, there was no need to cram her schedule with lectures while considering grades.
Because of this, she enjoyed a much more relaxed and comfortable timetable compared to her peers, with much later mornings and early evenings.
Even so, the Vatican could not bear to cut their support for her.
The regret was on the Vatican’s side.
”They must think her potential is as high as mine.”
Not sure how the priest reported, but it seems the Vatican valued not only Amon but also his connection with Sonia.
Otherwise, they would have left her room untouched, thinking that as long as she maintains her graduation credits.
“Haaam~”
“Get a grip. You’ve got jam on your mouth.”
As Amon wiped the jam off Sonia’s sleepy mouth, they finished their slightly late breakfast.
After grooming themselves, they started their day an hour later than others.
“Have a good day~ Enjoy school life~”
“Don’t get hurt either~”
Sonia headed to the academy, and Amon headed to the mercenary brokerage.
Sonia had enrolled in seminary, and Amon had been a mercenary for a month.
In that short time, Amon learned a lot.
”I was like a frog in a well.”
His fashion sense was an issue, but more importantly, he didn’t know the mercenary industry of this era well.
Stuck at the settings from 50 years ago, Amon thought he was updating his information through internet searches, but that was his arrogance.
In this mercenary industry, where information and equipment performance are directly linked, developments had been made far beyond what Amon thought.
Engineering had exponentially advanced during the world wars.
In a world where daily life was almost like a war, technology was advancing at a similar pace.
”It wasn’t just simple weapons…”
In 50 years, the weapon systems hadn’t fundamentally changed nor had the laws of physics drastically shifted.
Bullets still flew propelled by gunpowder explosions, and if that wasn’t enough, magic was added.
Those dissatisfied with cyber implant surgeries would add magic tattoos to grant their bodies special functions, and use genetic modification surgeries to overcome human limits.
Up to this point, 50-year-old knowledge remained the same.
But what had changed in this world?
The existence of entities.
Entities weren’t just exploited in power plants.
Parts of their bodies, or the byproducts they produced, were used in any possible tools.
Mercenaries’ equipment was the same.
Their equipment had functions that Amon couldn’t even predict.
‘Even that gorilla had the storage effect using the infinite staircase function…’
Amon recalled the crazy gorilla he had encountered long ago.
In the mercenary industry, it was common to add the infinite storage function illegally to grenade launcher-type implants.
However, strictly speaking, since it was an illegal modification, it didn’t appear in internet searches and was a secret only known to mercenaries.
If he hadn’t neutralized the grenade launcher first, Amon’s corpse might have been placed next to an unknown police statue.
Realizing this, Amon changed his plan to rush into dungeons as soon as he became a mercenary.
There were still too many things in this world that Amon didn’t know.
Not only dungeon monsters but also people needed to be careful; if he rushed in without knowing well, the chances of being betrayed and killed were high.
Therefore, Amon decided to slowly build his foundation from the basics.
An errand boy, as he’d always been.
Evolving a bit from there, he became an errand boy who not only handled odd jobs but also delivered mercenary commissions.
When mercenaries completed a commission, they started from Pavalloma, confirmed completion, and Amon delivered the reward to the mercenary.
Depending on the commission, he sometimes got the chance to observe the process of performing a commission by following the mercenaries.
After repeating this for a month, he eventually got a nickname.
”Pavalloma’s Dog”
It was a pun on ‘Pavlov’s Dog’.
When the mercenary who completed a commission rang the signal, Amon, who carried the reward, would appear, so it was somewhat similar.
There were many errand boys, but only Amon got this nickname because he was a mercenary.
He had boldly obtained his mercenary license on the first day, but what he actually did was just running errands.
Mercenaries teased Amon, calling him a coward.
Amon knew well that this nickname was attached to him.
They were openly teasing him, of course.
***
Ding, ding.
“Hey, you bastard. Bring some alcohol here.”
A mercenary entered Pavalloma and signaled to Amon.
Amon smiled kindly and complied again.
On the way to deliver the alcohol, some mercenaries deliberately bumped their shoulders, causing some of the alcohol to spill.
Amon continued to do his errand work steadfastly without showing any sign of their bullying.
“You have to give back as much as you take. Otherwise, you look weak.”
This sentence is a virtue in the rough mercenary industry, so Amon’s actions further fueled the mercenaries’ sadism.
No matter how much they bullied him, he was seen as a harmless toy.
That’s how he was evaluated among mercenaries.
Despite this evaluation, Amon had never been angry until now.
It wasn’t because he was as kind as a saint.
Rather, Amon preferred actions over words.
Nonetheless, the reason he suppressed his anger was simple.
”They are all lower-class scum who are going to die anyway.”
There was no point wasting energy getting angry at people who were going to die.
Amon didn’t do anything special for them.
The mercenaries who bullied him were all of the same rank, and their deaths were due to the cyberpunk’s doctrine.
”Those idiots who don’t know how important the basics are…”
They saw Amon as nothing more than a delivery person who brought money bags with completion rewards.
But errand work wasn’t just about delivery.
If that were the case, they would use a delivery person, not employ Amon.
To deliver the completion reward, it was necessary to verify whether the commission was appropriately completed, whether any issues arose during the process, etc.
You couldn’t use a delivery person without related knowledge, so it was often lower-grade mercenaries who were assigned as errand boys.
Errand mercenaries sent to the field would learn things like what constituted an ideal completion of a commission, which weapons were good in specific situations, secret contact methods, ideal infiltration routes, petty tips among mercenaries, and the procedures for commissioning and completing.
There’s a lot to learn during the errand.
Ironically, those who called Amon a coward were the ones who admired mercenaries and were blinded by the accessibility of becoming one, not knowing how dangerous it was.
These people wandered the neighborhood without a reason, often getting picked up by garbage collectors and loaded onto garbage trucks.
Moreover, Amon was convinced that his way was right.
Because the boss of Pavalloma supported Amon’s method.
“Anyway, the youngsters these days…”
Amon recalled what the boss of Pavalloma had said.
“If you’re going to be active as a mercenary, you need to build up from the basics step by step like you. These youngsters these days don’t understand the importance of the basics.”
An elderly man in a wheelchair spoke, “Originally, fifty years ago, second-rank mercenaries were made to run errands to slowly build up their experience. Amon is following that setting from Volume 3.”
However, after a legendary mercenary known as the Mercenary King opened the era of great mercenaries, people began flocking to mercenary brokerages, wanting to become mercenaries no matter what.
Since then, second-rank mercenaries no longer took on boring tasks like running errands.
Many started grabbing guns and knives as soon as they registered and went on missions, while those who stayed at the brokerage to build their foundations through errands were mocked as cowards.
This trend continued for fifty years, and soon among second-rank mercenaries, building foundations through menial tasks was considered foolish.
Most brokerages did not alter this policy deliberately.
After all, there were many applicants.
From them, the competent ones survived, and the unskilled ones were found in landfills or sewers.
However, as the proud owner of the mercenary brokerage, Pavlo, the boss of Pavalloma, had a different perspective.
“Anyway, I’m not happy with it.”
The elderly man grumbled as he maneuvered his wheelchair.
In the past, even if you were second-rank, you had the basics down, but nowadays, second-rank mercenaries skipped the basics and often failed at the subtle connections stage due to their lack of knowledge.
Therefore, nowadays, tasks that used to be entrusted to second-rank mercenaries were rarely assigned unless they were at least silver-rank.
On the contrary, silver-rank mercenaries were still inexperienced, so the boss muttered, “If they’re not gold-rank, I can’t trust them at all.”
Amon empathized with the boss’s feelings.
He had played through the era when the boss was active, but that boss was a legendary mercenary before becoming an old-timer.
Now, though he was reliant on a wheelchair, he had been a supporter of the protagonist in the true ending of Punk City 3.
In the true ending, the protagonist went missing as an international fugitive, and the elderly man kept that fact hidden, but Amon knew.
Therefore, Amon listened attentively to the elderly man’s words.
“He may speak harshly, but he has a strong sense of pride.”
He knew the boss would never assign him dangerous errands.
Instead, he would send him to places ideal for building a foundation.
As proof, Amon had not been in any danger while running errands for nearly a month.
Moreover, some of the mercenaries sent by the boss were good people, so he received various tips.
Thanks to that, Amon was able to steadily build his mercenary foundations without any issues for a month.
He would probably continue doing so until the boss told him he had done enough.
With that thought, Amon silently continued his errands, suppressing his anger as he focused on his duties.
However, that day was different from usual.
***
“Hey, you religious bastard.”
Amon turned his head towards the voice coming from behind him.
Although the words might not have been directed at him, they were quite annoying.
When he turned around, his gaze met that of a woman’s.
”Hmm. So it was me.”
The woman, who clearly seemed to have business with Amon, narrowed her eyebrows and glared at him.
She was a beauty with black hair and red eyes.
As Amon reacted, she abruptly spoke to him.
“Is this a church? Why are you drawing sacred symbols everywhere?”
What was that?
Why was she picking a fight?
Amon was confused.
Was she just mocking him for being easy?
That was likely the case.
Perhaps mercenaries pouring tomato soup over his head and tripping him up was why she was nitpicking about drawing sacred symbols.
But aside from that impression, Amon’s mouth naturally moved.
“The Lord said, “Our temple is always in your heart.”
He couldn’t say he wasn’t drawing sacred symbols because he was trying to hold back his anger, so Amon spoke as kindly as possible.
However, his answer didn’t seem to please her.
“Hmph, you religious people are always like that. So, was it your god’s will that my mother tried to donate all my father’s property to the church? Trying to expand your inner temple?”
“Oh… that’s not true…”
Amon genuinely felt sorry for her words.
“I don’t know the full circumstances, but if that person did so, I think there’s nothing to say even if the teacher calls me a religious person.”
At first glance, her words might have sounded like an insult towards the goddess.
However, Amon did not confuse her words with blasphemy.
Blasphemy meant committing evil acts in the name of the goddess or using her name to shield wrongdoing or insult her without reason.
In contrast, the woman’s words were ambiguous enough not to be considered blasphemous.
If a follower did shameful things in the name of the goddess, it was only natural to receive criticism.
Even if the goddess was perfect, humans were not.
Amon, who prided himself on being a devout believer, humbly accepted her criticism.
Her anger seemed justified to Amon.
However, the woman across from him was utterly bewildered.
She had expected some sort of rebuttal, but Amon took it coolly.
Taken aback by her unexpected reaction, she paused her words.
“Um…”
At that moment, another mercenary with a spiky hairdo intervened in the conversation.
“What the hell. So, can I insult you too? Because of that bastard, my life is messed up like this—Ack!”
Pfft.
His words didn’t finish.
Before he could complete his sentence, Amon had separated his sword from his scabbard, stepped on his leg with the scabbard, and pinned him down with his sword.
Holding the cold blade to the mercenary’s mouth, Amon spoke to him.
“Your tongue is cursed. Shall I cut that venomous tongue of yours in half?”
Amon’s blade lightly touched the mercenary with the spiky hair’s nose.
Click.
Perhaps because it was a sword from the Hexen Group’s security team, the frail mercenary’s skin was cut just by the touch.
The mercenary’s face turned pale blue.
He cautiously kept his nose away from the sword, his lips trembling as he stammered.
“I-I’m sorry! I must have momentarily lost my mind… I’ll pay the tithe at the church, so please forgive me!”
Desperate for forgiveness, the spiky-haired mercenary nodded vigorously.
Blood oozed from the vertical wound on his nose, staining it red like a clown’s.
Blocking the blood flowing from his wound, the mercenary fled the brokerage as if trying to escape.
After the commotion settled, Amon wiped the blood off his sword with a handkerchief and turned his head back to the woman.
“Where were we in our conversation?”
Smiling, Amon met her gaze.
Meanwhile, his hand continued to wipe the blood off the sword.
Upon seeing this, the woman thought, ‘Did I just provoke a crazy guy?’
Surprisingly, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
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