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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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The sun was slowly rising over the horizon in the morning.
Tada-lan♩♪
Inside a highway rest stop, where soft music played,
A man completely covered in tattoos tapped the shoulder of a man with dreadlocks sitting next to him.
“What?”
“Hey, hey, look at that.”
The dreadlocked man turned his head in the direction the tattooed man pointed.
News was playing on a television installed in the bar.
[The Dungeon Management Association has named the dungeon that recently appeared in Colorado ‘The White Dawn’.]
The dreadlocked man’s eyes filled with interest after watching the news.
The tattooed man, as if reading the dreadlocked man’s thoughts, gave a combative smile.
“Wanna go there?”
“Isn’t that dungeon owned by the Higzen Group?”
“Yeah. Those $3 guys took it all, but there must still be some good stuff left.”
“Then let’s go quickly.”
The dreadlocked man shoved the hot dog he was holding into his mouth and immediately stood up from his seat.
[Ding! Payment received.]
The two, who paid for their food by snapping their fingers, quickly left the bar.
And Amon, who had been listening to their conversation from the table right behind them, put down the newspaper he was reading while sipping his coffee.
‘So mercenaries are all heading to Colorado.’
The two who just left seemed to be those kinds of people.
The reason was, of course, because of the dungeon.
‘Because it’s a megacorp dungeon that appeared after a long time.’
Dungeons themselves weren’t that rare, as they were created all over the world.
Sometimes they became dungeons due to reckless mid-sized companies ignoring safety regulations while experimenting, or sometimes they were created when large corporations sabotaged each other,
so it was common for a state to have one dungeon created about every two years.
However, it was very rare for a super-large corporation to turn into a dungeon.
According to Amon’s research, it had been 10 years in the US since that last happened.
The larger the company that the dungeon used to be, the more dangerous the dungeon, but the sweeter the reward.
That’s why the mercenaries from as far as California were heading towards Colorado as soon as they heard that the Higzen Group had turned into a dungeon.
‘I already conquered that dungeon… No. Maybe me conquering it actually increased the demand?’
Various dungeons exist in the world, and each dungeon has its own unique characteristics.
Because of this, a field of study called dungeonology exists to classify dungeons, but that’s not really important.
What’s important was the news that the White Dawn dungeon, which he had conquered, was the kind that remained even after the boss was killed.
‘Well, the devil was a summoned creature, and the monsters are executives who received divine punishment, so…’
The news stated that it was the kind of dungeon with no boss, and only monsters that continue to revive.
In other words, it was an unappetizing dungeon for mercenaries aiming for the top, but infinitely attractive for beginners or mid-level mercenaries who wanted stable growth.
Furthermore, even though the $3 group had taken all the important things, what mercenaries and corporations wanted were completely different.
Corporations wanted information and data, but mercenaries wanted scraps or equipment left behind in buildings.
Even though it was known that the $3 Group had ransacked the dungeon, it wasn’t of any less value to ordinary mercenaries.
Perhaps because of that,
mercenaries from not only the United States but all over the world were flocking to Colorado.
Amidst such a trend, Amon and Sonia were heading in the opposite direction from the mercenaries.
Slurp.
At a highway rest stop on the road from Colorado to California, Amon sipped his coffee.
Artificial flavoring and caffeine, used to imitate coffee, left a stale taste in his mouth.
Even Amon, who didn’t know much about coffee beans, could tell how cheap this coffee was.
Since he wasn’t drinking it for the taste but to wake up, he could tolerate it.
Slurp.
“Father, please take care of us on our way.”
With a grimace at the terrible-tasting coffee, Amon spoke to the priest sitting across from him.
The priest, still half-asleep, barely nodded at Amon.
Sonia was not the only companion on Amon’s journey to California.
The squint-eyed priest had also been ‘dragged’ along with them.
Of course, formally, it was just that he was ‘coincidentally’ being dispatched to California, and he was simply taking the two along with him.
But after seeing the second coincidence that the priest had suddenly become Sonia’s seminary professor starting next year, he couldn’t pretend not to notice.
‘It’s too obvious…’
Anyone could tell he was a protector and a supervisor.
That’s because the fact that Amon had single-handedly conquered the White Dawn was a secret only the Vatican knew.
In that situation, it would have been too much of a shame to lose contact with the two of them.
That’s why they dispatched a priest who happened to have a connection with the two and was relatively free of obligations.
Amon clearly remembered the priest’s expression when he received the dispatch notice along with the professor appointment letter back then.
It was the same expression his work senior had when he was transferred to the countryside in Amon’s past life – the expression of a powerless office worker who had a lot he wanted to say but had to hold it in, in front of others.
That was how the priest had been dragged along with Amon and Sonia.
Completely devoid of his own will.
They decided to take turns driving in three shifts to shorten the travel time to California.
The priest rubbed his dark-circled eye sockets and spoke to Amon.
“How about Sonia?”
“She said she can’t sleep well if she eats before bed, so she slept on an empty stomach.”
“Amon, you worked hard this morning too.”
Until they arrived at this rest stop, Amon had been driving, and Sonia had been in the passenger seat.
Now, when they left this rest stop, it would be the priest’s turn to drive, and Amon’s turn to sit in the passenger seat.
Sonia had to sleep because she was the next driver, but Amon needed to keep the priest awake by chatting or something.
No matter what world it was, it was common courtesy for the passenger to stay awake with the driver.
“Father. Have some coffee.”
Amon offered the priest a cup of coffee as part of his passenger seat duties.
Whether it was because of the caffeine, or because it tasted so terrible,
the priest’s eyes widened after taking a sip of the coffee.
The priest, who had still been half-asleep, finally became ready to drive.
“Should we buy some snacks for the road?”
The priest refused Amon’s suggestion.
His reason was that it would be a hassle if they spilled anything in the rental car.
So, they just grabbed some zero-sugar cola to drink along the way, and then the two left the rest stop.
“No to pollution! Love the environment!”
They passed by an environmental activist protesting with a picket sign in front of the highway rest stop, and then the two got into the car.
The priest, holding the ignition key, spoke as if praying.
“Please, please…”
Vroom.
Thankfully, the car started smoothly.
“Oh, thank you.”
With words of gratitude to no one in particular, the priest stepped on the gas.
The car exited the rest stop and entered the road.
With Sonia in the back, the car headed towards California.
In the uncomfortable silence, Amon made an attempt to break the ice to fulfill his passenger duties.
“Father, how did you become a priest?”
At his question, the priest looked ahead, creases forming around his lips.
After a brief silence, the priest eventually answered.
“Because it’s safe.”
“Excuse me?”
“In this goddamn world, the safest place for someone with divine power is the Vatican.”
“Oh…”
Amon, not expecting that answer, rolled his eyes around, wondering how to reply.
The priest that Amon knew was… a good person, although he looked a bit suspicious.
Putting aside whether he could be trusted, he was a good person and a good priest.
Not a saint, but a good-natured person?
That’s about it.
Amon had never imagined that he would hear such an answer from that kind of person.
The priest, sensing Amon’s silence, spoke as if assuming what Amon might be curious about.
“I think you’ve misunderstood. I don’t particularly like the Vatican either. I’m just an office worker for the Vatican, not a member.”
“Huh? Is a priest allowed to say such things?”
“Originally, I didn’t start this job with a sense of duty. Being in the world of exorcism feels like walking a tightrope with your life. Eventually, you naturally lean towards the more stable and safer side.”
The priest’s answer was understandable.
Some people might risk their lives for their faith, while others might value their lives as long as they don’t abandon their faith.
It was an area where no one could say who was right or wrong, and it was something that could easily be understood.
If it wasn’t the priest who had said that line.
“Even so…”
Amon remembered what the headmaster had told him.
The priest was determined to bring Amon and Sonia to the Vatican.
For someone like that to say that they aren’t particularly loyal to the Vatican…
It was hard to believe.
The squint-eyed priest, as if reading Amon’s mind in the silence, smiled wryly and said,
“Then why did I try to bring you two to the Vatican? In my opinion, it’s much safer in the Vatican, so I was recommending it. It was also for my own performance record.”
“…You’re incredibly secular.”
“If good deeds are rewarded, there’s no reason not to do them.”
Amon’s mouth shut.
It was a very practical reason.
‘The more I see of him, the more I can’t understand the Father.’
Amon reassessed the squint-eyed priest as he continued to talk incessantly from the passenger seat.
It was the conversation they had when there were 12 hours left until they reached California.
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The several-day trip to California ended on Sonia’s turn to drive.
The three of them left their luggage at the places they had arranged to stay and parted ways.
The priest headed to the rental car center to return the car,
Sonia headed to the university for her admissions process,
and Amon headed to the mercenary brokerage as planned.
‘There are more mercenaries left than I thought.’
A megacorp-level dungeon had appeared in Colorado, and many mercenaries were moving there.
Despite that, there were still many mercenaries in California.
Come to think of it, that was obvious.
No matter how many dungeons appear in Colorado, California, the root of all, was not going to become desolate.
‘This is the core.’
California was the setting of Punk City 3.
Due to the protagonist, who became a legend among mercenaries in the true ending, California was almost like a mecca for mercenaries.
Moreover, it had significantly more megacorp-level dungeons compared to other areas.
Since several megacorps gathered here and had huge ambitions, they sabotaged each other, and that resulted in numerous megacorp-level dungeons.
It had been quiet for the last 10 years, but there was a time when there was an era of great chaos, with one megacorp dungeon appearing every year.
And there were still many megacorp dungeons that were yet to be conquered.
There was a reason why it was the mecca of mercenaries.
‘It’s been a while. How is this still not destroyed?’
Amon went through his knowledge from the game as he headed towards the brokerage.
The scenery on the way had changed so drastically that he needed the navigation system, but the mercenary brokerage, his destination, remained completely unchanged.
[Pavaloma]
The meaning was unknown.
The brokerage owner, who had said he would tell him the meaning of Pavaloma when he returned, was assassinated, so he never found out, even by the end of the game.
According to the epilogue, his son had taken over the brokerage, and that seemed to continue even 50 years later.
‘This is the absolute core.’
In the game, Pavaloma was the best brokerage in California.
On the internet, it had dropped to around 3rd place now that 50 years had passed, but for the fundamentalist Amon, it didn’t matter.
What was important to him was feeling a sense of nostalgia for the past.
He checked the two swords at his waist and headed for the automatic door next to the bodyguard.
Ignoring the bodyguard who was strangely distancing himself, Amon went inside the brokerage.
Whirr
The door opened, and the smell of alcohol and grease greeted Amon.
He walked across the brokerage towards the reception desk.
The mercenaries’ eyes focused on him.
Normally, he would have thought it was because they were captivated by his appearance, but this time it was different.
Amon was wearing a mask, and people’s gazes were closer to fear than curiosity or friendliness.
“…Is that him?”
“I think so?”
Amon pushed through the people’s stares and approached the receptionist.
In any world, it was the rule that the receptionist was a beautiful young lady.
Amon’s assigned receptionist, he wasn’t even sure what their original face looked like, or even if they were female, but they were relatively beautiful.
She had been looking at the computer screen for a while, but she then turned her gaze toward Amon.
“Gasp!”
…And she almost fell backwards in surprise.
Amon couldn’t understand it.
What did he do to scare her so much?
Amon put his confusion aside for the moment and stated his reason for coming here.
Still, the receptionist was a professional, and while keeping an eye on Amon, she completed the task she had to do.
Soon, an official mercenary license with Amon’s name on it was issued.
“Thank you.”
Amon tucked the bronze card into his inner pocket.
That was all he needed to do for today.
Since he was only planning to register today, he wasn’t thinking of going to a dungeon or taking a request.
Then, a question he had put aside came to mind.
He asked the receptionist, the only person in this space who wasn’t avoiding him, or rather, was unable to run away, about his question.
“Why is everyone so scared of me? Is there a bounty on my face or something?”
At Amon’s question, the receptionist trembled and took out her phone.
Click
And then, she took a picture of Amon and showed it to him.
In the photo, a bizarre person wearing a blue skull motorcycle helmet stared back at Amon.
After seeing the photo, Amon tilted his head.
‘What’s the problem?’
Each and every item of clothing Amon was wearing had a meaning.
The motorcycle helmet he prepared because the most dangerous thing in dungeons and requests was being hit in the head.
The red biker suit, which was excellent in terms of activity and heat resistance, was modified to allow for bulletproof plates, and especially in the crucial chest area, a steel plate was added.
He was wearing a yellow raincoat to protect against acidic substances or blood, and to prepare for landmines, his lower body was covered in the military-green pants that explosive ordnance disposal teams used.
His fingers were covered with finger gloves for delicate movements rather than protection, and he had white combat boots on his feet.
For weaponry, he had a katana and an arming sword for greater tactical flexibility.
In Amon’s eyes, his equipment was perfect.
‘I really put this together with good value for the money.’
Amon was proud of himself for his thoroughly calculated outfit, which only focused on cost-effectiveness.
His senses hadn’t dulled, even in a new life.
Of course, the way others felt about this was completely different from his.
‘Isn’t he some kind of pervert?’
It was the kind of fashion that only a madman who could suddenly lose it and go on a rampage would wear.
But the person himself seemed to have no reaction to his fashion.
The receptionist realized that Amon’s fashion sense was seriously messed up and soon gave up on trying to reason with him.
“No, it’s nothing…”
Amon tilted his head and went back out into the street wearing that same outfit.
Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split on the path he was about to take.
The old pro wouldn’t understand how people felt until he got home and was showered with a barrage of complaints by his lover.
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A True gamer.