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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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Clutching his burnt side, Amon grumbled,
“I said I’d behead her, but I just killed her.”
As if mocking his declaration of feeding her to the birds, the demon vanished into ashes.
From her appearance to her demise, she was a truly irritating demon.
Putting aside his pronouncements, with his anger subsided and his mind clear, the whole ordeal seemed incredibly inefficient.
How much easier would it have been if he’d calmly left the boss room, diligently farmed for a year, and returned?
At least his side wouldn’t be crispy on the outside and tender on the inside like this.
No, wait, with the sticky burn, was it tender both inside and out?
“Ugh…”
During the fight, the adrenaline masked the pain, but now it was excruciating.
He lacked medical knowledge, but it felt like at least a second-degree burn.
Blisters were bubbling up, clearly not a first-degree burn. And from what he’d heard, third-degree burns cauterized the nerves, making them painless. Therefore, by process of elimination, it had to be second-degree.
“Ugh… Should I be happy about this or not…”
It was better than a third-degree burn, but the location, his side, meant that without exaggeration, the slightest lapse in concentration could cause him to lose consciousness.
Just breathing sent waves of pain through his spine, driving him mad.
“Next time, for real… next time… ugh…”
Amon fanned his side, trying to soothe the burning.
The lesson learned from the pain:
Choose your battles, even if it means bowing your head.
Besides the pain, the challenge itself had been incredibly reckless.
He’d won because his unique Divine power prevented the demon from regenerating. If she had regenerated normally, he would have been the one to die.
There were many scenarios where he could have died.
A glancing blow from a single beam had done this much damage; a direct hit would have meant game over.
It had been a tightrope walk.
Thinking back, his win probability had been slightly below 40%. He’d gotten incredibly lucky.
‘No matter how I think about it, it was insane.’
He hadn’t survived because of his skill; it was pure luck.
He reflected, and reflected again.
It seemed like a day for reflection, but if he didn’t do it now, he was bound to repeat his mistakes.
As he contemplated the day’s events, something dropped before his eyes.
“Huh?”
It was a marble-like object.
Amon had a good idea what it was.
‘It dropped.’
In gaming terms, it was a drop item; in this world’s parlance, it was a trophy or essence.
It was a clump of condensed Divine power or magic left behind by a defeated boss or monster, which could later imbue equipment with abilities.
This essence, along with the megacorp technology left in the deepest parts of the dungeon, was what drew mercenaries to these places.
Amon examined the marble closely.
Following series tradition, the color of the essence changed according to the concentration of Divine power or magic, indicating its grade.
Bright yellow.
‘Oh, legendary.’
A jackpot.
But it wasn’t cause for unrestrained joy.
Higher grades were undoubtedly more powerful, boasting increased damage or effects, but they weren’t necessarily unique.
In a world overflowing with diverse magic and implants, what mattered wasn’t overwhelming power but synergy, cost-effectiveness, and creating variables.
Overwhelming firepower could be achieved through other means, but unique effects were irreplaceable.
Therefore, the content of the essence was far more important than its grade.
The problem was he didn’t yet know if the content suited him.
If it turned out to be a bow-related ability, which he didn’t use, it would be a beautiful piece of junk.
So he couldn’t celebrate until he confirmed the essence’s specific properties.
Amon pocketed the essence and stood up.
‘I’ll check it later.’
It was time to leave the dungeon.
A major corporation had transformed into a dungeon.
With the chairman and executives still trapped inside, the police would be pacing anxiously outside the entrance.
But Amon had things to do first.
He took out his phone and made a call.
“Yes, Father. It’s done. The plan’s changed. Yes, yes. I’ll send you a map, so can you sneak in there? Yes, yes. Bring bags and plenty of Paladins. Yes~”
After the call, Amon immediately started gathering the security guards’ weapons and hard drives.
‘Can’t resist the loot.’
It was looting time.
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As if they hadn’t imagined the boss being defeated on the day it was born, the police hadn’t dared to enter.
Understandable, really.
What police officer would enter a nuclear power plant after it exploded?
Thanks to this, the Paladins and Amon enjoyed undisturbed looting time within the Higzen Distribution.
Being a distribution company rather than a munitions manufacturer, there wasn’t any top-tier equipment, but the ultra-high-speed, low-cost 3D printers and various rights that were the pride of the Higzen Group were a significant haul.
After the exhilarating looting spree at the Higzen Distribution concluded, Amon didn’t head straight to the cathedral but to a hospital affiliated with the church.
The Father and the Paladins, seemingly pleased with their loot, had recommended the hospital, telling him not to worry about the cost of his side.
Thanks to them, new flesh was already sprouting on Amon’s side.
‘Finally, some relief.’
He’d pretended not to be in pain to maintain his composure, but from carrying the loot to the hospital, he’d been in agony.
The pain only subsided after receiving painkillers and having some cream applied to the wound.
“This isn’t narcotic, is it?”
Before receiving the injection, Amon’s question had caused the doctor to explode, demanding if Amon thought he was some money-grubbing bastard. Amon and the Father had then stared at the doctor as if he were a mythical creature. Apart from that incident, the hospital was peaceful.
Every TV channel was plastered with breaking news about the Higzen Group’s dungeonification,
the streets were filled with descendants of Jean Valjean crying for liberty,
and law enforcement, including the police, was in chaos with the disappearance of the one who held their leash.
But the hospital where Amon resided was quiet.
“Ah… so quiet-”
[Room 502, Building 5. Cardiac arrest. Attending physician, please come immediately.]
[Emergency Room, Building 1. Multiple trauma patients. All available doctors, please report to the ER.]
“…”
Before he could finish his sentence, two incidents occurred.
Correction:
Only Amon’s private room was peaceful.
Listening to the medical staff rushing down the hallway, Amon thought,
‘It’s probably because of me.’
A megacorp that controlled the region suddenly vanishing without warning would naturally cause chaos.
When a tiger dies, other wild beasts fight fiercely over its den.
Now it was a contest between the police regaining control and the hyenas expanding their influence to fill the void.
The hyenas would be smaller companies or gangs, and if they seized power first, they could become the next Higzen Group.
It wasn’t just a matter of gangs and corporations.
Citizens would seize the opportunity to rise up, and among the protesters, there would be criminals looking to exploit the chaos and loot stores.
Furthermore, the surge in unemployment would worsen public safety.
All of this stemmed from Amon’s single-night dismantling of the megacorp.
In the cyberpunk world, megacorps were the axis of evil, but their existence was a necessary evil.
They employed countless people while also causing unemployment,
manipulated the city’s security while also maintaining it,
and allowed people to survive while also killing them.
Knowing the devastation that would follow their demise, neither the government nor the people dared to touch them lightly.
Amon closed his eyes, lost in thought.
Honestly, he felt no guilt.
It was absurd to demand that he and Sonia be sacrificed for the city’s stability.
Besides, in this world, if you blame yourself for every tragedy, you’d lose your mind.
He was a good person by this world’s standards, but also extremely rational.
Therefore, he didn’t feel overly responsible for the situation.
However…
‘The director and the kids…’
He didn’t care about the city’s safety.
In his view, the city was already corrupt; this was just another drop of blood in a pool of stains.
But if his siblings or the nuns were harmed because of this, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
Amon fiddled with the hard drive he’d taken from the Higzen Distribution, eyes still closed.
Finally, he made up his mind and called the Father.
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry to bother you. I’d be grateful if you could do one last favor for me.”
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The chaos that had unfolded overnight was quickly quelled.
[This morning, ‘$3 Meat’ officially announced its takeover of the Higzen Distribution. Our reporter on the scene…]
Amon nodded, watching the breaking news dominating every channel.
On his bedside table, instead of bland, healthy hospital food, sat a hamburger made with ‘real’ pork.
Amon took a bite and nodded again.
‘Good thing I sold it.’
Last night, Amon had sold the Higzen Group’s data and licensing rights to a food industry megacorp.
The name: $3 Meat.
A food franchise that sold all kinds of meat in $3 increments.
They had been second fiddle to the Higzen Distribution in this city.
With the Vatican acting as intermediary, Amon transferred all of the Higzen Distribution headquarters’ data to them.
From Higzen’s core technology to their patents, everything.
In his past life, such a thing would have been unimaginable, but this world had special dungeon laws.
To streamline dungeon handling, all rights of dungeonified corporations were automatically forfeited.
Anything acquired within the dungeon automatically became the property of the acquirer, including patents and core technologies.
Finders keepers.
If a second entrant claimed ownership of a right or technology obtained from the dungeon, the first acquirer could even sue them.
Amon exercised this right and sold everything belonging to the Higzen Group to $3 Meat.
However, the sales process was a bit complicated.
Amon knew how socially vulnerable he was.
If he’d openly approached $3 Meat with the offer, he likely would have been eliminated.
So he sought the Vatican’s help.
‘The Archbishop was thrilled.’
The method was as follows:
First, he connected with the Archbishop through the Father’s network, and with his help, disguised his identity.
He went from a somewhat special orphan with Divine power to a legendary secret Paladin who single-handedly cleared a mysterious dungeon that consumed the Higzen Distribution in just an hour.
After establishing Amon as a sword of the church, the Vatican offered to act as his intermediary.
Legendary Paladins were reluctant to reveal their identities, so all transactions would be conducted through the Vatican.
The Vatican, as the Paladin’s representative, contacted $3 Meat, the city’s second most powerful entity, and they accepted the deal with remarkably generous terms.
‘I never knew $3 Meat was such a fast-acting company.’
The $3 Meat he knew took seven hours to answer the phone after a food poisoning incident, a week to connect you with a representative, seven months to reach a courtroom, and after a seven-year legal battle, the victim would lose.
This was the first time he’d seen them answer the phone in seven seconds, resolve legal procedures in seven minutes, and solve all issues in seven hours.
‘How many employees did they grind through during the night?’
However, he understood their eagerness.
The reason $3 Meat remained second in the city was their lack of access to supermarkets to sell their meat.
Even if they wanted to establish butcher shops, everything, from general goods to groceries, had to go through Higzen Group’s Hyzen Mart, forcing $3 Meat to bow to them.
Then, a deal that resolved their grievances suddenly appeared.
The disappearance of the Higzen Distribution, which had constantly obstructed their market entry, was a boon in itself, but now they were being offered all of Hyzen Mart’s rights.
Along with the core technology of the Higzen Group’s underground operations: low-cost 3D printing.
They were being offered supermarkets to sell their meat,
3D printing technology to lower production costs,
and all other rights held by the Higzen Group.
When you get an offer like that, who cares about employees’ sleep?
Every minute and second was precious.
According to the Archbishop, who handled the negotiations, $3 Meat had been incredibly accommodating, agreeing to every condition the Vatican proposed.
Thus, the deal was finalized overnight.
Hyzen Marts worldwide were rebranded as $3 Marts, and the city, thrown into chaos, was stabilized by its new ruler, the $3 Group.
‘A world where everyone’s happy, huh?’
The Vatican benefited from the steady stream of royalties from $3 Group, effectively putting them on a leash.
$3 Group benefited from escaping second place, their market capitalization doubling.
Amon benefited from the money and securing the safety of the nuns and his siblings.
The perfect happy ending.
Of course, someone might ask Amon if he regretted not monopolizing those rights, which could have made him the chairman of a megacorp.
To that, Amon could answer with certainty:
‘Greed will burst your belly.’
Amon knew his place.
He had no factories, capital to utilize the technology, nor the power, influence, or backing to protect those rights.
In his situation, they were nothing but a time bomb.
It was far better to sell them to the Vatican, securing both money and their favor.
He wasn’t worried about the Vatican lowballing him.
To them, he was a benefactor who’d prevented a potentially catastrophic incident, as well as a powerhouse capable of single-handedly defeating an artificial saint.
The fabricated identity of a legendary Paladin was meant to deceive corporations, but it also reflected how the Vatican perceived him.
With the immense profits they’d gain from those technologies and associated rights, the Vatican wouldn’t risk antagonizing a major player.
As Amon expected, the Father relayed the message that he could expect a substantial reward.
“You’ll never have to worry about money again, Amon.”
“Really?”
“…Assuming you live a normal life.”
“Damn.”
Outfitting himself with top-tier equipment could cost enough to acquire a small-to-medium-sized company, so it wasn’t quite that level.
Still, Amon was relieved.
‘With this amount, they won’t have to worry.’
He’d been burdened by the destruction of the orphanage after the Higzen Group’s attack, but now that problem seemed solved.
Did he regret the money?
Not at all.
Would anyone regret spending money to repair their own home if they had enough?
That’s how it felt to Amon.
It was like repairing his own home and showing filial piety at the same time.
He only regretted not being able to do more for the orphanage.
He wanted to build a hospital or a school next to it, but in this world, such additions would likely encourage people to abandon their children even more readily.
‘Help must be given in invisible forms.’
He was content with the visible support of $3 Group providing the orphanage with high-quality synthetic meat free of charge for life.
“Now you’ll have to worry about obesity instead of malnutrition.”
Amon quietly shared the good news with the orphanage director, who’d come to visit.
Upon hearing this, she embraced Amon and wept.
“You truly are an angel sent by the Goddess, Amon. Thank you so much… really… sniff.”
“Ugh…”
Her embrace sent a jolt of pain through his burned side, but it was a truly heartwarming ending.
‘It was worth getting my side burned.’
A truly touching conclusion.
.
.
.
Or so it should have been.
“Amon. Care to explain this?”
Until Sonia, visiting him in the hospital, shoved a picture of him arm-in-arm with a madam from a brothel in his face.
Amon looked towards the Father.
The Father had already fled the room.
‘What the hell did he say!?’
One thing was certain: the explanation had been terrible.
Otherwise, Sonia’s eyes wouldn’t be consumed by madness.
Mustering his courage, Amon asked Sonia what the Father had told her.
And the reply she received:
“The Father said…”
“Amon’s a young man in his prime. While the Goddess strictly punishes unfaithful men, she also encourages peaceful dialogue whenever possible.”
Hearing the Father’s explanation, Amon couldn’t help but resent him.
‘That wasn’t an explanation at all!!’
It sounded like the Father was actively trying to sabotage him.
Sure, he might have been vague to maintain secrecy during the operation, but couldn’t he have come up with a better explanation?
Cursing the Father inwardly, Amon looked at Sonia.
Watching her load her pistol with dead eyes, Amon thought,
‘Shit. I don’t know any of her patterns.’
Amon, the legendary Paladin who slew a demon.
His combined romantic experience from both lives amounted to a first playthrough.
This was the crisis of his two lifetimes.
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