Chapter 76: The one who sells their brother

[Amon! Because of you, I…!]

Beep beep.

Amon ended the call from the squinty-eyed priest.

Some time had passed since the dungeon disappearance incident.

With the training dungeon gone, the priest had to urgently find a new one.

Every day, he hurled curses at Amon, but Amon didn’t pay much attention.

This time, it wasn’t Amon’s fault.

‘Why did he have to insist on doing it there?’

Amon had declined initially.

He had a bad feeling ever since he heard that the spell’s effectiveness depended on faith.

However, the squinty-eyed priest, the assistants, and even the students had pressured him to go along with it.

Amon felt sorry for the priest, but in the end, it was his decision, so it was his own doing—or so Amon thought.

Amon moved on from the missing dungeon.

Instead, he decided to enjoy the brief rest he had been granted.

Originally, he had cleared six months in his schedule for safety personnel duties.

But due to the incident, his schedule became completely free.

Until the priest chose a new training location, Amon was effectively unemployed.

He decided to use this unexpected break to reconnect with people he hadn’t seen in a while.

***

Amon drove toward the bustling shopping district.

It was located between the city center and the dungeon hub.

He entered a particular equipment shop in the area.

“Long time no see, Paul.”

This shop belonged to Amon’s first party members.

As soon as he saw their faces, memories of their short time together resurfaced.

They were the ones who taught Amon a lot during his first expedition and helped him form a positive impression of adventuring.

Unfortunately, they encountered scavengers during an expedition, which resulted in severe injuries.

Forced to replace parts of their bodies with machinery, they no longer had the mental strength to continue and chose to retire.

They were also the party that gave Amon his signature Sky Step.

With what little wealth they had left, they opened this shop—The Mercenary Department Store.

This shop provided not only essential items for specific dungeons but also catered to various needs of mercenaries.

It was like a small department store for adventurers.

Amon greeted Paul and his wife, Tori, who was also a former party member.

“Nice to see you too, Tori.”

“It’s been a while. How many months has it been?”

“Nearly three months, I think.”

“Three months? Then this is your first visit since we renovated the shop, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oh my, we’ve neglected our sponsor. Honey, what are you doing? Give him a proper tour!”

Smack!

“Ouch, sorry! That was a bit too hard.”

Former vanguard, indeed.

With just a pat on the back, Tori made Paul, who used to be a mage, stagger.

There was probably a handprint left under his clothes.

Though a bit violent, this was their way of expressing love.

While Amon watched the scene with amusement, Paul, now icing his back with an ice spell, approached.

“So, what brings you here?”

“No special reason. I’m here to get some repairs done, shop a bit, and chat.”

“Got time before dinner?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then let me show you around the building. It’s your first visit since the renovation, after all.”

Amon accepted the offer.

He had contributed to the renovation, so he wanted to see the results for himself.

“I’ll stay here in the lobby, so enjoy your tour!”

Tori waved from behind.

***

Paul guided Amon around the department store.

“Wow, the shop’s gotten so big.”

“Yeah, thanks to you, showing people around the building has become a job in itself.”

Paul joked as he introduced the different sections of the building.

The lobby on the ground floor, managed by Tori, sold commonly used consumables for mercenaries—preserved food, tents, medicine, signal flares, and more.

These were lifelines for explorers venturing deep into dungeons.

As Amon listened to the explanations, a question suddenly came to mind.

“What happened to the energy bars I introduced here?”

At his question, Paul gave a wry smile and pointed to a corner.

There, a familiar block of dried food was displayed.

About half the stock on the shelves had been sold, indicating some level of popularity.

Amon was shocked.

“People actually buy those?”

The reason for his surprise was simple.

Those blocks were created by the support mage from his party.

After becoming the head of a research team at her company, the mage’s first project was to establish a company to mass-produce the blocks.

Though the others tried to stop her, she was adamant that the blocks had market potential.

As expected by everyone except her, no retailer wanted to stock her product.

Still, she didn’t give up.

“Retailers aren’t mercenaries! They don’t understand the value of these!”

Her unyielding logic left everyone speechless.

To break her stubbornness, Amon had reluctantly introduced the bars to Paul’s shop.

‘Once she realizes they don’t sell, she’ll give up.’

That had been his reasoning.

“Why are they selling?”

Paul, equally bewildered, explained.

“They’re mostly bought by Horde mercenaries, grad students, and adventurers who stay in dungeons for extended periods.”

It made sense.

People who prioritized efficiency over humanity—those whose taste buds were likely damaged from repeated surgeries—would find the blocks appealing.

They were the perfect food source for such individuals.

‘What a crazy world.’

Though food seemed like a trivial way to understand it, the world never operated the way Amon thought it should.

Amon continued his tour of the department store under Paul’s guidance.

In the basement, where guns and weapons were sold, he had a brief chat with Hale, the blue-haired former marksman.

On the second floor, where combat systems and cyberware parts were sold, Amon met Even, the yellow-haired sniper, and they had a lively conversation.

“Oh? You’re walking now?”

“I bought an enhanced exoskeleton. With this, walking isn’t a problem.”

“How’s your lower body?”

“Every morning, it feels like Everest is in front of me.”

Even had lost function in his legs, but he remained the same optimistic person.

A lover of guns and explosives, Even never let anything dampen his spirits.

Rather than despair over his paralysis, he celebrated the fact that his other functions were intact.

Next to Even, Hale sarcastically chimed in.

“What’s the point if you’ve got no use for it?”

“You little punk!”

Hale smugly flashed a wedding ring on his finger.

Even grabbed Hale by the collar and shook him.

Amon watched their antics with a fond smile.

***

Amon and Paul continued their tour of the bustling department store.

The building had everything a mercenary might need.

During their walk, the building was packed with mercenaries, and the staff were tirelessly assisting them.

It was a booming success.

Paul’s smile didn’t fade throughout the tour.

‘It feels good to see that my investment paid off.’

Amon had always felt a bit guilty toward Paul.

He wondered if joining their party had led to their encounter with the scavengers.

Or if the essence he took as payment for medical expenses had reduced their startup capital.

But now, he no longer felt that way.

‘This makes up for the essence, I suppose.’

Although late, they had repaid each other’s kindness.

After the tour, the two headed to Paul’s office.

“Let’s chat here until it’s time for lunch.”

Inside the office, they talked about many things.

“Paul, how did you handle situations like this?”

“Oh, there’s no solution for that. Even I got beaten up by Tori back then.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“You too.”

Their conversation drifted to various topics until it landed on human trafficking.

“By the way, Amon, have you run into any traffickers lately?”

“No?”

In the early days of his adventuring, Amon had two run-ins with traffickers.

However, since partnering with Cassie’s company, he hadn’t encountered them.

‘Maybe in the past,’ he thought, ‘but not recently.’

Still, Amon shared an old story about a beastman clan leader who had been hiding among his party as a trafficker.

When Amon finished his tale, Paul’s expression darkened.

“So it was you…”

“Pardon? Is there a problem?”

“Recently, there was a person the gangs were looking for. Turns out it was you.”

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Of course. I planned to tell you anyway.”

Unlike Amon, who operated on a larger scale, Paul often mingled with those from the underbelly of society.

Mercenaries, Paul’s primary clientele, frequently associated with such people—prostitutes, gang members, and the like.

This naturally brought information Paul’s way.

“One of the gangs’ main sources of income used to be human trafficking.”

The gangs didn’t do the trafficking themselves.

They outsourced it to scavengers or small-time groups like the Crews.

This method was safer, cheaper, and more profitable than direct involvement.

But one day, their suppliers vanished.

The scavengers who supplied organs and the Crews who sold adventurers to the highest bidder—both groups went silent.

With their supply chain gone, the gangs’ operations took a hit, and they started investigating.

Eventually, they discovered that their suppliers had been wiped out.

By this point, Amon had a good idea of what had happened.

“Don’t tell me…”

“Yes. They suspect it was you. Thankfully, since the gangs rely heavily on our department store, they haven’t retaliated. The problem was the Crews.”

“And…?”

“They believe it was you.”

Unlike the scavengers, whose aftermath was left unaddressed, the Crews were dealt with through the help of the mercenary office.

It was no wonder the gangs hadn’t figured out Amon’s involvement.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“What is?”

“They’ll never find out it was me.”

Paul was reassured.

The gangs would never reach Amon.

Cassie actively deleted or altered any information about him.

If anyone could track him down, it wouldn’t be a gang—it’d be a corporation.

Even if they did, Amon had grown too influential for the gangs to touch.

Paul smiled.

“Just keep doing what you always do.”

At least his friend and benefactor wouldn’t be in danger.

He gestured for Amon to forget about the conversation, saying it wasn’t worth the trouble.

However, Paul overlooked three things.

First, Amon wasn’t the type to avoid fights if he had the power to win.

Second, Amon was currently bored.

Lastly…

“Don’t worry, Paul.”

Ethically, morally, and spiritually, Amon couldn’t let those who crossed certain lines go unpunished.

Holding Paul’s hands firmly, Amon said, “Those who sell their brothers will burn in hell.”

Paul wanted to say something but held back.

Instead, he decided to pray for the traffickers’ souls at the church this weekend.