Chapter 31: Cyberpunk and Mercenary Part 4

Amon fundamentally prefers to crush his enemies with overwhelming power.

A strength so dominant that it doesn’t allow even the smallest chance.

That was the playstyle Amon favored.

Therefore, he always prepares an escape route, just in case he lacks enough power.

On the other hand, if he has enough strength, Amon does not avoid any fight that comes his way.

From the third-floor window of a building, Amon looked down at the gang members below.

Humans, when alert, tend to watch only their front, back, left, and right; they rarely consider above or below.

The gang members chasing Amon were no different.

They glanced around cluelessly, unaware that Amon was watching them from above.

In his mind, Amon mapped out their positions.

Five members.

One with a sword, two with guns, one hacker, and one mage.

Looking down at them, Amon reminded himself that reality is not a game.

And so, these individuals he observed were not NPCs either.

He didn’t expect them to react as foolishly as NPCs would.

However, there was a certain pattern even within their irregular movements.

Amon waited quietly for the right moment.

When all their gazes were momentarily directed forward, Amon dropped down behind the mage in the rearmost position.

If killing were allowed, he would have instantly slashed his neck with all his weight behind it, but since lethal force was forbidden, he instead delivered a swift kick to the back of the mage’s head.

With a loud smack, the mage fell unconscious.

The gang members turned towards Amon at the sound, but by then, Amon was already holding the unconscious mage.

While the gang members were still in shock, he hurled the unconscious mage at one of the gun-wielding members.

Then, aiming the pistol borrowed from Cash at the swordsman, he fired.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One of the three shots struck his knee.

As the swordsman knelt, Amon, without drawing the sword from its sheath, jabbed it into his solar plexus.

Even though the sheath was on, a wrong thrust could still be fatal, but having a sword in a cyberpunk world implied a certain confidence in one’s durability.

As Amon expected, the swordsman rolled his eyes and collapsed unconscious.

With the swordsman neutralized, Amon quickly bent forward.

A bullet whizzed past where his head had been.

He turned around, firing the pistol wildly while gripping his sword in a reverse grip as he charged at the shooter.

Once he emptied the magazine, he shielded his face with his arm and continued running.

Bullets struck his body but failed to pierce his clothes.

Enduring the dizzying pain, Amon closed in on the shooter and drove his sword into his foot.

“Aaaargh!!”

As the gang member screamed, Amon elbowed him in the chin, knocking him out, and turned towards the gang member who had been holding the mage.

By the time the gang member had barely managed to lower his comrade to the ground, Amon had already dealt with two people.

Before he could draw his gun again, Amon hurled his sword, which pierced through his knee.

“Argh!!”

The gang member collapsed.

Now, only the hacker remained.

Amon shrugged and looked at the hacker.

The hacker desperately tried to do something to Amon, but it was ineffective.

Of course, it would be.

Amon’s body had no machinery.

The hacker seemed to find it impossible to believe that a pure human body could accomplish such feats, and he tried his best to hack Amon.

But until Amon stood right in front of him, the hacker achieved nothing.

Amon placed a hand on the bald hacker’s shoulder and said, “Shall we have a little talk?”

All the hacker could do was nod.

***

The conversation with the gang wrapped up smoothly.

Amon managed to clear up any misunderstandings by showing that, even though he could have killed the gang members, he chose not to.

The hacker relayed the facts to his boss, while Amon informed his employer, setting the stage for a negotiation.

“I’ll handle the specifics with their boss,” said the employer, seated in a creaky wheelchair.

The young man Amon knew fifty years ago had somehow become a seasoned businessman.

‘Who would’ve thought that thug would end up like this.’

The young man who once chose a life as a gang member rather than a mercenary had straightened up after his father’s death and taken over his father’s business.

But old connections never truly disappear, allowing him to resolve matters with the gang once again.

Broken bones and pierced limbs posed no issue.

After all, Amon’s actions were justified self-defense, and they were still alive.

After the matter was settled, the employer heaped praise on Amon, practically out of breath with admiration.

“You were different from the start! I haven’t seen anyone this competent in fifty years!”

Had Amon killed any gang members, things would have gotten complicated, but his exceptional handling of the situation kept it from escalating.

The employer, already unimpressed by ‘today’s youth,’ regarded Amon highly as one of the few with a solid foundation among them.

Taking this chance, he had prepared a few gifts for Amon.

“This is…?”

“It’s a job. I personally selected it. If you take care of these, you’ll reach Silver Rank in no time.”

Amon accepted the employer’s goodwill with gratitude.

The fact that his employer had chosen the job held significant meaning.

In this world, assignments have no inherent ranks.

‘So, what is the mercenary ranking system?’

The mercenary ranks—Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum—are merely credit ratings.

They only indicate how high the mercenary’s success rate is; they do not directly reflect strength or experience.

When someone submits a request at the brokerage, a broker at the brokerage selects a suitable mercenary for the job.

It’s a structure that entirely disregards the mercenary’s safety.

The broker’s job is to decide if the mercenary can handle the task, and it’s up to the mercenary to determine if they can survive it.

In this industry, rank holds about as much significance as a bank’s credit score—no matter how high, even a Platinum-ranked mercenary can meet their end if they misjudge their capabilities.

‘Survival rates skyrocket just by picking the right broker.’

Typically, when mercenaries die, it’s less because they were reckless and more often because the broker was malicious or unscrupulous.

Many brokers withhold necessary information on purpose, or they deliberately put mercenaries in danger just to pad their own records.

Some brokers, like those involved in human trafficking, even lure mercenaries into traps for profit.

So, finding a safe and reliable broker is practically a skill for a mercenary.

In this world, the boss’s offer was invaluable to Amon.

The broker’s promise to “selectively screen” meant special management, prioritizing the mercenary’s well-being.

Moreover, as a broker, the boss’s reliability was beyond question.

Even if he caused his father stress by idolizing gangs back in Chapter 3, his skill and loyalty were undeniable.

The boss would likely assign Amon relatively safe tasks that he could handle.

Amon accepted the boss’s goodwill gratefully.

“I’ll do my best to be your ace mercenary, sir.”

“Heh. You dream big. Do you even know who my ace mercenary is, and are you saying you’ll catch up to him?”

“Well, as long as it’s not the Mercenary King, I’m confident I can match anyone.”

“Haha! The more I see you, the more I like you, kid.”

The boss burst out laughing and rewarded Amon handsomely.

Originally, it was a reward meant for the mercenary who died in this incident.

Amon accepted it and left the boss’s office.

***

Coming down from the upper floor, he entered the lobby, which doubled as a bar, where Cash waved to him from a corner seat.

Amon walked over and sat across from her.

“How did it go?”

In response to her question, Amon replied with his usual smile.

“This incident has been resolved well. They said I should stop running errands and start focusing on assignments.”

Cash clapped and congratulated him as if it were her own success, then looked at him with a hint of realization.

“Oh, right.”

“What is it?”

“Then who’s going to teach me?”

“You can learn while doing errands, can’t you?”

“Alone?”

“Running errands is usually a solo job.”

“Are you seriously saying that after today!?”

Amon considered rebutting her but decided against it.

Technically, today had been an exception.

Up until now, Amon had never encountered real danger.

On the other hand, this was her first errand, and it must have felt different for her.

Perhaps because of this, she appeared nervous about running errands alone.

To ease her worries, Amon came up with a solution.

“Then, you can run errands for the assignments I’m working on.”

That way, she’d be safe enough.

Hearing Amon’s suggestion, her face brightened.

“With you, I feel reassured.”

“In return, treat me to a meal once a week.”

“Once a week? How about every three days instead?”

“Deal. I look forward to it, Cash.”

They shook hands with each other.

***

Several months had passed since Amon officially began his mercenary work.

Thanks to a reliable broker, Amon quickly reached Silver Rank.

During this time, Amon’s armament slightly changed.

Previously, he had little interest in guns, but now he wore a sawed-off shotgun at his waist as a backup weapon.

Sometimes, a gun worked better than a sword.

His mercenary life wasn’t the only thing that changed.

“A(ay)~”

“Here already, K(kay)?”

Cash approached Amon as he prepared for today’s mission.

While Amon wiped oil off his hands with a napkin, she took out a prepared map and began explaining the plan.

This was a turning point in Amon’s mercenary life.

Initially, he had planned to operate solo, but somehow, he ended up bringing Cash along as a partner.

As they frequently talked during her errands, a bond had naturally formed.

As a partner, Cash complemented Amon well.

After all, she had built her foundation on Amon’s tips, so it was hard for them to not work in sync.

The map on the table was proof of that.

To avoid the risks of hacking, Amon preferred analog methods when handling important missions.

Cash, learning from him, also always prepared her briefings analog-style.

The two carefully reviewed the plan for this mission and rose from their seats.

While Amon checked his blade’s condition, Cash inspected her collapsible spear before reattaching it to her waist.

The two crouched at the alley entrance, waiting for the right moment.

Three, two, one.

At Amon’s hand signal reaching zero, they simultaneously charged into the alley.