Chapter 28

The sun was slowly creeping up over the horizon in the morning.

*Ding-dong~♪*

Inside a highway rest area where calm music was playing, a man covered in tattoos tapped the shoulder of a man with dreadlocks sitting next to him.

“What?”

“Hey, hey, look over there.”

The dreadlocked man turned his head in the direction the tattooed man was pointing.

On the TV installed at the bar, the news was playing.

<The Dungeon Management Association has named the dungeon that recently appeared in Colorado as ‘White Dawn.’>

The dreadlocked man’s eyes lit up with interest after seeing the news.

The tattooed man, as if reading his thoughts, flashed a combative smile.

“Wanna go there?”

“That dungeon belongs to the Hixen Group, right?”

“Yeah. The 3 Dollar Group took most of it, but there’s still plenty of good stuff left.”

“Then let’s hurry.”

The dreadlocked man shoved the hot dog he was holding into his mouth and immediately got up from his seat.

*Ding! Payment received.*

With a flick of their fingers, the two paid for their food and left the tavern.

Meanwhile, Amon, who had been listening to their conversation from the table behind them, sipped his coffee and put down the newspaper he was reading.

‘So mercenaries are all heading to Colorado, huh?’

The two who just left seemed to be part of that trend.

The reason, of course, was the dungeon.

‘It’s been a while since a Megacorp dungeon appeared.’

Dungeons themselves weren’t particularly rare, as they were being created all over the world.

Sometimes, clueless mid-sized companies ignored safety protocols during experiments and ended up creating dungeons. Other times, large corporations sabotaged each other, leading to dungeon formations.

On average, one dungeon appeared every two years in a given state.

However, it was rare for a megacorporation to turn into a dungeon.

From what Amon had researched, it was the first time in ten years in the U.S.

The larger the company that became a dungeon, the more dangerous the dungeon was, but the rewards were equally sweet.

That’s why, as soon as word spread that the Hixen Group had turned into a dungeon, mercenaries from as far as California were heading to Colorado.

‘I already cleared that dungeon, though… Wait, no. Did clearing it actually increase its demand?’

There were various types of dungeons in the world, each with its own unique characteristics.

This led to the existence of “Dungeon Studies,” a field dedicated to classifying dungeons, but that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the news that the White Dawn dungeon he had cleared was the type where the dungeon remained even after the boss was defeated.

‘Well, the boss was a summoned demon, and the monsters were former executives who were punished.’

The news reported that it was a dungeon where the boss was gone, but the monsters kept respawning.

In other words, it was a dungeon that wasn’t appealing to mercenaries aiming for the top, but it was endlessly attractive to beginners or mid-level mercenaries looking for steady growth.

Moreover, while the 3 Dollar Group had taken all the important items, what mercenaries wanted and what corporations wanted were completely different.

Corporations wanted information and data, but mercenaries wanted the scraps and equipment left behind in the buildings.

Even though the 3 Dollar Group had supposedly looted the dungeon, it still held value for ordinary mercenaries.

Perhaps that’s why.

Not just from the U.S., but mercenaries from all over the world were flocking to Colorado.

***

In the midst of this trend, Amon and Sonia were heading in the opposite direction of the mercenaries.

*Sip.*

At a rest area on the highway from Colorado to California, Amon sipped his coffee.

The artificial flavoring and caffeine left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Even Amon, who didn’t know much about coffee, could tell how cheap this coffee was.

But since he wasn’t drinking it for the taste, but to stay awake, he could tolerate it.

*Sip.*

“Priest, please take care of us on the way.”

With a disgusted expression from the terrible coffee, Amon spoke to the priest sitting across from him.

The priest, still half-asleep, nodded slightly at Amon.

On Amon’s journey to California, Sonia wasn’t his only companion.

The Narrow-Eyed Priest had also been “dragged” along with them.

Of course, officially, he was just “coincidentally” being dispatched to California and decided to give them a ride.

But when you consider the fact that the priest had suddenly become Sonia’s seminary professor starting next year, it was hard to ignore the obvious.

‘Too blatant…’

To anyone, it was clear he was a guardian and a watchdog.

After all, the fact that Amon had single-handedly cleared White Dawn was known only to the Vatican.

In such a situation, it would be a shame to lose contact with the two.

That’s why they sent the priest, who had a connection with them and was relatively free in terms of status.

Amon clearly remembered the priest’s expression when he received the dispatch notice along with the professor appointment letter.

It was the same expression a powerless office worker would make when they had a lot to say but couldn’t bring themselves to say it in front of others.

And so, the priest was dragged along with Amon and Sonia.

His own will completely disregarded.

To shorten their travel time, they took turns driving in shifts toward California.

The priest, rubbing his dark-circled eyes, spoke to Amon.

“What about Sonia?”

“She said she can’t sleep if she eats before bed, so she’s sleeping on an empty stomach.”

“Amon, you’ve had a tough morning too.”

Up until they arrived at this rest area, Amon had been driving, with Sonia in the passenger seat.

Now, as they left the rest area, the priest would take the wheel, and Amon would sit in the passenger seat.

Sonia, as the next driver, needed to rest, but Amon had to keep the priest awake by chatting or whatever was necessary.

No matter the world, it was common courtesy for the passenger to stay awake with the driver.

“Priest, have some coffee.”

As part of his passenger duties, Amon handed the priest a cup of coffee.

Whether it was the caffeine or the terrible taste, the priest’s eyes shot open after one sip.

The half-asleep priest was finally ready to take the wheel.

“Should we grab some snacks for the road?”

The priest declined Amon’s offer.

He said it was because if anything spilled in the rental car, it would be a headache.

So, they only grabbed some zero-calorie cola for the road and left the rest area.

– “Say no to exhaust fumes! Love the environment!”

Passing by environmental activists holding picket signs in front of the rest area, the two got into the car.

As he turned the ignition key, the priest muttered as if praying.

“Please, please…”

*Vroom.*

Luckily, the engine started.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

With a thanks to no one in particular, the priest stepped on the gas.

The car left the rest area and entered the highway.

With Sonia in the back seat, the car headed toward California.

In the uncomfortable silence, Amon decided to fulfill his passenger duties by striking up a conversation.

“Priest, how did you end up becoming a priest?”

At his question, the priest furrowed his brow slightly while looking ahead.

After a brief silence, the priest finally answered.

“Because it’s safe.”

“Huh?”

“In this messed-up world, the safest place for someone with Divine Power is the Vatican.”

“Oh…”

Amon was taken aback by the unexpected answer, his eyes rolling as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The priest Amon knew… was a bit suspicious in appearance, but overall a good person.

Whether he was trustworthy or not, he was a good person and a good priest.

Not a saint, but a decent guy?

That’s about it.

Amon never expected such an answer from someone like him.

The priest, sensing Amon’s silence, decided to share a bit more.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t particularly like the Vatican either. I’m just a Vatican employee, not a true member of the Vatican.”

“Huh? Is it okay for a priest to say that?”

“I didn’t start this out of a sense of mission. When you’re in the world of exorcism, it feels like walking a tightrope with your life on the line. Over time, you naturally gravitate toward what’s more stable and safe.”

The priest’s answer was reasonable enough.

Some people could risk their lives for their faith, while others valued their lives while still holding onto their faith.

It wasn’t a matter of right or wrong, and it was something Amon could empathize with.

If only the priest hadn’t been the one to say it.

“But still…”

Amon recalled what the Director had told him.

The priest had been determined to bring Amon and Sonia to the Vatican.

For someone like that to say he wasn’t particularly loyal to the Vatican…

It was hard to believe.

In Amon’s silence, the Narrow-Eyed Priest chuckled as if reading his mind.

“Then why did I want to bring you two to the Vatican? From my perspective, it’s much safer for you to be there. Plus, it’s good for my performance.”

“…That’s very worldly of you.”

“If good deeds come with rewards, why not?”

Amon’s mouth shut.

It was a very realistic reason.

‘The more I see, the more mysterious this priest becomes.’

Amon revised his evaluation of the Narrow-Eyed Priest and kept chatting non-stop from the passenger seat.

This conversation happened when there were 12 hours left to California.

***

The journey to California, which took several days, ended with Sonia taking the wheel for the final stretch.

The three of them dropped off their luggage at a pre-arranged house and went their separate ways.

The priest headed to the rental car center to return the car.

Sonia went to the university to complete her enrollment procedures.

And Amon, as planned, headed to the Mercenary Agency.

‘There are more mercenaries left than I thought.’

Despite the Megacorp-level dungeon appearing in Colorado and the influx of mercenaries heading there, California still had plenty of mercenaries.

Thinking about it, it made sense.

No matter how big the dungeon in Colorado was, California, the heart of it all, would never become quiet.

‘This is the origin, after all.’

California was the setting for Punk City 3.

Thanks to the protagonist, who became a legend among mercenaries in the true ending, California had become a holy land for mercenaries.

Moreover, compared to other regions, it had a significantly higher number of Megacorp-level dungeons.

With so many Megacorps gathered in one place, greed and sabotage were common, leading to the creation of multiple Megacorp dungeons.

Although it had been quiet for the past ten years, there was once a time when a Megacorp dungeon appeared every year, causing chaos.

And there were still many Megacorp dungeons that remained unclaimed.

It was no wonder it was considered the holy land for mercenaries.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve been here. How is it still standing?’

Amon rummaged through his game knowledge as he headed to the agency.

The scenery along the way had changed so much that he needed the navigation system, but the destination, the Mercenary Agency, remained exactly the same.

<Paballoma>

He didn’t know what it meant.

The agency’s boss, who had promised to explain the meaning of Paballoma upon his return, was assassinated, so Amon never found out.

According to the epilogue, the boss’s son took over the agency, and it seemed to have continued for the past 50 years.

‘This is the origin of origins.’

In the game, Paballoma was the top agency in California.

Online, it was said to have fallen to third place after 50 years, but that didn’t matter to Amon, a traditionalist.

What mattered to him was reliving the nostalgia of the past.

He checked the two swords at his waist and headed toward the automatic door next to the bodyguard.

For some reason, ignoring the bodyguard who was subtly keeping his distance, Amon entered the agency.

*Whoosh*

As the door opened, the smell of alcohol and grease welcomed him.

He walked through the agency toward the reception desk.

The mercenaries’ eyes turned to him.

Normally, they would have been captivated by his appearance, but this time was different.

Amon was wearing a mask, and the looks he received were more of fear than curiosity or goodwill.

– “…Is that him?”

– “I think so.”

Amon ignored the stares and approached the receptionist.

No matter the world, it was a universal rule that receptionists were beautiful women.

Amon’s assigned receptionist was no exception. Whether it was her real face or not, or even if she was actually a woman, she was undeniably attractive.

After staring at her computer screen for a while, she turned her gaze to Amon.

“Gasp!”

…And almost fell backward in shock.

Amon couldn’t understand.

What had he done to make her so scared?

Putting his confusion aside for now, Amon stated his business.

Despite her fear, the receptionist, being a professional, completed her task.

Soon, an official mercenary license under Amon’s name was issued.

“Thank you.”

Amon tucked the card into his inner pocket.

His business for the day was done.

He had only planned to register today, so he had no intention of entering a dungeon or taking on a request.

Then, the question he had set aside earlier came to mind.

He asked the receptionist, the only person in the room who couldn’t run away from him.

“Why is everyone so scared of me? Is my face on a wanted poster or something?”

At Amon’s question, the receptionist trembled and pulled out her phone.

*Click.*

She took a photo of Amon and showed it to him.

On the screen, a suspicious figure wearing a blue skull motorcycle helmet stared back at Amon.

Amon tilted his head in confusion.

‘What’s the problem?’

Every piece of Amon’s outfit had a purpose.

The motorcycle helmet was to protect his head, the most vulnerable part in dungeons or missions.

The red biker suit, modified with bulletproof plates and reinforced chest armor, offered both mobility and heat resistance.

The yellow raincoat protected against acidic substances or blood, while the military-colored pants were designed to withstand explosives.

Fingerless gloves allowed for precise movements, and white combat boots completed the look.

For weapons, he carried a katana and an arming sword to cover a wide range of combat scenarios.

To Amon, his outfit was perfect.

‘I really nailed the cost-performance ratio.’

He was proud of his meticulously calculated outfit, optimized for efficiency.

Even in this new life, his instincts hadn’t failed him.

Of course, the impression he gave to others was completely different.

‘Is that guy a pervert?’

His outfit looked like something a lunatic on the verge of a rampage would wear.

But the man himself seemed completely oblivious to how his fashion sense was perceived.

The receptionist, realizing Amon’s fashion sense was beyond saving, gave up trying to explain.

“No, it’s nothing…”

Amon, still puzzled, walked out of the agency in his full outfit.

Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd on the street split as he passed.

The veteran didn’t realize how people felt about him until he got home and was scolded by his partner.

---