The next day.
The Amon party, which had ascended to the surface, gathered in the training ground to discuss the dungeon.
They pushed the training equipment to the side, and while Amon brought over the blackboard, the party members curiously surveyed Amon’s training ground.
“Wow. Our party leader really looks like someone rich. The people I knew in college who had access to this kind of stuff were all rich,” muttered Voks, the ogre heavy artillery.
It was a private training ground no bigger than a tennis court with no special installations, but even renting such a facility came with considerable costs.
A training ground wasn’t just an open space; it was a place where no one could eavesdrop on the training process.
Of course, mercenaries could afford to rent such facilities with their income to some extent.
But since mercenary income fluctuates, only a mercenary with a relatively stable income could afford to rent such a place.
“To rent a facility like this, the rent must be pretty high. Do you have any other sources of income?” the buffalo tank asked, rubbing his chin in admiration.
Just as Amon arrived with the blackboard, he overheard the murmurs and answered.
“No comment.”
Thanks to the income from the mercenary work he did whenever they weren’t in the dungeon, and the passive income from royalties, Amon had no trouble maintaining the rental of this facility.
Amon’s comrades looked at him with envious eyes.
[I think I understand the secret behind the party leader’s strength. As expected, those with solid initial capital grow faster.]
The mute sniper nodded in agreement.
Not all mercenaries were like this, but mercenaries whose bodies were their resources were often extremely driven to improve.
It was no surprise that they wanted a training or research facility of their own.
But since they didn’t have the money for it, they could only practice shooting at relatively cheap shooting ranges.
Of course, such places couldn’t compare to an actual training ground, where practical combat practice was possible.
“I wish I had a place like this too,” said the mercenary mage, with a hint of envy.
Amid the envious gazes of the party members, Amon casually responded.
“You can train here on your days off. I mean, me and Cassie only use half of it anyway.”
“…Huh????”
“You didn’t know? Cassie’s been using it with me this whole time,” Amon added.
The others exchanged surprised looks, alternating between Amon and Cassie.
Voks, the buffalo tank, asked, still unsure.
“Is that really okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Anyway, enough about the training ground. Let’s talk about the dungeon,” Amon replied.
“Uh… okay,” Voks muttered, still processing the situation.
Despite their shock at receiving permission to use the training ground, the party members’ lips curled upward, and they began discussing the dungeon.
The atmosphere had lightened as they began the strategy meeting, but once the dungeon discussion started, everyone focused on the blackboard.
Amon drew a circle around the label “B1” on the board.
“We’ll call the floor where we first detected the anomaly B1,” Amon explained.
The anomaly Amon’s party detected was that the dungeon had started placing monsters that were particularly strong against specific weapons or classes.
The floors before this had been no different from other dungeons, so they were labeled A1 to A13, but from this point onward, the label “B” was used.
“The ghoul we met on B1 seemed specialized in disabling snipers,” Amon continued.
Its tough hide made bullets ineffective, it could climb walls, and it was nearly silent when moving.
Moreover, the dungeon’s darkness provided camouflage, and being undead, it couldn’t be detected by heat sensors either.
If Amon’s sniper hadn’t equipped magical sensing goggles, they could have easily been ambushed and wiped out in an instant.
[Now that I think about it, it was strange. Undead usually charge at the front-liners as soon as they see them, but those ghouls seemed to wait until our party passed.]
The mute sniper shivered as she recalled the incident, rubbing her arms.
Voks, the buffalo tank, patted her back reassuringly.
Amon moved on to discuss the next floor.
***
“We didn’t fight them properly, but B2 had slimes.”
“Yeah, black slimes that feed on electricity. They seemed like they were made to counter tanks, since tanks are the ones who’d have to fight them directly,” said the mage.
“Considering how they exploded when they died, it seemed like the front-liners might get caught in the blast if they made a mistake,” Amon added.
“Then the exploration would fail,” sighed the dual-class mage.
The sniper on the front line had been neutralized on the upper floor, followed by the cyberware being neutralized on the next.
As they continued, it became clear that this dungeon, with its continuous neutralization of each class, was becoming more and more exhausting.
More troubling still was this:
“There’s no guarantee that the monsters we’ve already dealt with won’t appear again on lower floors.”
“In fact, the likelihood of that is higher,” Cassie agreed.
If they assumed that specialized monsters stacked on the lower floors, each fight would require changing tactics and formations.
The fatigue from that would be enormous.
“This dungeon layout is really malicious,” Voks muttered.
Using Amon’s words, it was a dungeon that played the game in a truly dirty way.
“Maybe the company behind the boss is the one suggesting these monster placements,” Amon speculated.
[That makes sense,]
The dual-class mage and the mute sniper sighed, as if the thought had drained them.
But despite the frustration, they knew that complaining wouldn’t change anything, so they began discussing strategies with the information they had.
“First off, I’ll handle the ghoul on B1 with Cassie,” Amon said.
The buffalo tank couldn’t assist since he was responsible for protecting the rear, and the mage lacked the firepower and was too slow to counter a ghoul’s ambush.
Naturally, it was decided that Amon and Cassie, who used swords and spears, would take care of the ghoul.
“Fortunately, it seems the ghoul was only resistant to bullets, but it’s easy to cut down with a sword,” Amon added.
If a monster is specialized against a specific class, it usually means it’s weak to others.
The ghoul was highly resistant to firearms, but it was vulnerable to melee combatants like Amon and Cassie.
Next was B2, the electric-consuming slime.
Amon volunteered to take this on too.
Since he didn’t have any cybernetic implants, he was safe even if the slime exploded on him.
Cassie, on the other hand, had a spear with mechanical components, which made attacking slimes more difficult.
The party continued to prepare for a variety of scenarios.
***
It might seem like overkill, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially when dealing with specialized undead, magic-sealed undead, and other deadly monsters.
The more they discussed, the more they realized something strange.
“Doesn’t it feel like the party leader has an answer for almost everything?” the buffalo tank pointed out.
Only then did the party realize the truth.
With the exception of explosive monsters, Amon seemed capable of handling most of the specialized undead monsters.
All eyes turned to Amon.
“Did you undergo some kind of cybernetic enhancement?” Voks, the buffalo tank, asked.
Amon nodded.
[How about magic seals?] the mute sniper asked.
Amon shook his head.
“Did you undergo some kind of genetic modification?” asked Ogre, the heavy artillery.
Amon nodded again.
“Then, does this mean that with just one essence, you’ve reached this level of power?” the dual-class mage asked.
Once again, Amon nodded.
The party members’ jaws dropped.
Cassie, who had been watching, jumped in.
“See? I told you Amon has some kind of bloodline ability.”
She poked Amon playfully in the side.
Amon grimaced and replied, “I don’t. I’m human.”
“Then explain this. How is it that with just one essence, and that too a Sky Step, you’ve reached this kind of performance?” Cassie asked.
“It’s because I have divine power,” Amon replied nonchalantly.
“…What?” Cassie froze at Amon’s bombshell statement.
The other party members were equally stunned, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard.
Amon reaffirmed with a deadpan expression, “I can use divine power. My enhanced physical abilities are part of it.”
““Eeeeeh?!””
The entire party’s shock echoed through the training ground.
After Amon’s revelation about his divine power, and after a bit of chaos, the party finally calmed down.
The reason Amon came out with the truth was simple.
It was because he trusted them enough now.
It didn’t seem right to keep secrets from people he would soon be risking his life with, so he decided to come clean.
Amon himself seemed satisfied with the reveal, his expression showing a sense of relief.
However, the other party members were still stunned by the revelation.
The first to recover was Cassie, who quickly asked,
“Why are you telling us this now?”
Amon shrugged and replied, “Is there a better time to say it?”
“Uh… no, I guess not.”
To be fair, this party had never really had a chance to have such private conversations.
There hadn’t been the right setting or timing until now.
Eventually, one by one, the party members began to accept the fact that Amon was a divine power user.
[This just means the party leader trusts us that much.]
The telepathic message from the Mute Sniper was met with agreement from everyone.
Surprisingly, the party accepted it rather easily.
That was because each of them had their own issues, just as serious as Amon’s.
There was the war veteran Buffalo Tanker, the former foreign intelligence agent Mute Sniper, the ex-heavy weapons ogre from a military contractor, and the former academy professor turned mage.
They all had pasts that were just as complicated, so it didn’t take them long to accept Amon’s revelation.
They’d already shared their own pasts during their time in dungeons and at the dining table, so now it was Amon’s turn.
It was just part of the process.
“Well then, let’s organize our positions around Amon. No matter how clever the lich is, a mystic power user…”
“Divine power,” Amon corrected.
“Huh?”
“I’d prefer you call it ‘divine power’ when it’s about me.”
Amon casually touched the cross around his neck as he spoke.
Now that they were comrades, he requested a little “respect.”
The mage, who was leading the meeting, hesitated but eventually corrected himself, “No matter how clever the lich is, a divine power user wouldn’t be able to create undead that can handle it. Undead are inherently weak to divine power, after all.”
“So, we’ll organize around me. But what about supplies?”
“I’m thinking of minimizing bulk. I could replace it with energy bars I’ve made myself…”
At the mention of energy bars, the party’s faces turned pale.
They were all too familiar with the “energy bars” made by the mage.
“We’re supposed to eat that? That feed block?”
Amon referred to it as a feed block, and continued, “I’m a beastman, not some animal, you know. Even if it’s just pressed hay, it should be better than that.”
The beastman tank also recoiled at the thought.
The other members, too, showed extreme aversion to the mage’s energy bar.
The energy bar was a cursed food.
They had all tried it once before, and no one ever dared to again.
But despite their reluctance, the mage’s single sentence silenced them all.
“Is there another option?”
No one had a response.
In the end, the mage’s suggestion was adopted.
Some called it energy bars, others feed blocks, and some referred to it as solidified animal feed. Regardless of the name, the party’s expressions soured as they accepted the decision.
Ignoring their grim faces, the mage pulled out a bag containing the energy bars.
“Let’s try eating it before we head down. If you can eat it here, you’ll be able to eat it on the way, right?”
The party looked at the vacuum-sealed energy blocks in front of them, recalling the recipe:
Genetically modified grain cereal, insect-based artificial meat ham, fake eggs mixed as the base, with fruit for vitamins and minerals, and a little fiber from vegetables.
Add a pinch of salt and a little caffeine for energy enhancement, and you have the twisted Hades energy bar.
For preservation, the energy bar was vacuum freeze-dried.
Amon picked up the Hades energy bar with his fingers and muttered, “Damn. Who in their right mind would think of making this?”
“I don’t know. When I was a grad student at the academy, someone made it,” the mage replied.
“Then why are you still making it?”
“It’s a habit, I guess. At least it really helps reduce the bulk of my luggage.”
“Aaah…”
Amon sighed deeply and shut his eyes tightly.
He then placed the energy bar in his mouth.
A few seconds later.
“Pfff!”
He spit the bar back into the bag.
The other members, who had been watching him nervously, hesitated but eventually took their turns.
And the result was—
“Ugh!”
It wasn’t much better.
Even the cyberpunk residents who were accustomed to eating chicken skewers that tasted like sawdust or plastic-tasting fake boiled eggs found this to be unbearable.
The mage’s energy bar was worse than that.
It was truly cursed food.
“You get used to it after a while,” the mage said nonchalantly as he took a bite.
The mage then shared his “tips” with the group, but his advice didn’t really help, since the taste buds of the party members were already destroyed.
It wasn’t until Amon discovered that if you boil the bar in water with some seasoning, it could be made edible that it was officially adopted as the party’s food.