Chapter 4

After finishing dinner with synthetic meat as a side dish, potato fries came out as a late-night snack.

The kids, excited for the rare treat, eagerly devoured the fries.

“Hiiing… I feel like I’m going to gain weight.”

Sonia glanced between the potato fries and her belly, worrying.

To Amon, her complaints sounded adorably whiny.

It was his belief that during growth spurts, eating a lot was fine.

Moreover, given Sonia’s physique, she didn’t need to worry about obesity at this level.

Her belly fat tended to gather slightly higher…

‘Stop right there.’

Amon caught his wandering thoughts.

He placed more potato fries on Sonia’s plate and took a handful for himself.

The potatoes in the fries were real potatoes.

Though slightly genetically modified, they had no side effects that Amon knew of.

Thus, potato fries were one of the few foods he could eat without worry in this world.

“Nom nom.”

Sonia, after eating a couple, soon forgot her worries about gaining weight and started enjoying the fries.

Even though they had to spend almost all the money earned yesterday and today, Amon felt proud.

Seeing the kids so happy, the money didn’t feel wasted at all.

Amon, efficiently finishing the late-night snack, brushed the last crumbs into his mouth.

*

Chika chika

After the late-night snack, it was time to sleep.

Amon brushed his teeth at the sink, reflecting on the day.

‘Shooting near Howard Side. This makes it a week straight. Gangs are still the same, whether 50 years ago or now.’

Though he now lived a daily life at the orphanage, he knew exactly where he had been reincarnated.

And he knew why he had been reincarnated.

To see and enjoy more in the wider world.

And to become a legend if possible.

If compared to a game, it would be like achieving his own true ending.

Though the goal seemed vague, the image was clear.

He collected information every day, preparing for the day he would dive into the world.

The era, the location, the power dynamics of this world.

And in the current situation, which areas he should dive into. And so on.

Even the errands he ran, like the poorly paid delivery jobs, were partly for safety and partly for information gathering.

So far, the information he had gathered indicated that he had been reincarnated in America.

The era was 50 years after the ending of Punk City 3.

Since Punk City was numbered by era, Amon was essentially experiencing Punk City 4 in real-time.

In the 50 years since Punk City 3, much had changed in this world.

The mind-numbing neon signs were still there.

Though technically, they were now affordable LED screens, but it was the same thing.

The gloomy city, money prioritized over human rights, and the paper tiger-like authority remained.

However, the sky had become a bit clearer.

Not because corporations suddenly awakened to environmental consciousness, but because they discovered more efficient and less polluting energy.

This new renewable energy was called Entity.

Ghost stories, paranormal phenomena, spirits, cryptids, creatures—there were various expressions, but the standard term was Entity.

Amon got goosebumps all over when he learned this.

‘In the end, they’ve done it…’

This crazy world had even started to see supernatural phenomena as a source of money.

For example, what if you secured the endlessly walking red shoes and the infinitely descending staircase, and combined them to power a generator?

Voila! Infinite energy!

This era, where such satanic ideas were executed as if they were normal, was the era Amon was born into.

‘The genre is cyberpunk… no, with magic and genetic engineering, it’s more like fusion punk.’

Amon thought it might be eco-punk due to the use of renewable energy, but he quickly dismissed that idea.

After all, exploiting paranormal phenomena and ghost stories to power generators and calling it eco-friendly was a bit…

It felt a bit off.

Thus, his conclusion was that it was a mediocre fusion punk.

Cyberpunk as the base, with a spoonful of magic, a spoonful of genetic engineering, and a pinch of urban.

That was this world.

The location of his orphanage was also completely different from the setting of Punk City 3.

This was within expectations.

Since Punk City 1, 2, and 3 all had different settings.

However, even though the locations changed, news of the protagonists from previous games still came through.

The true endings of each series were so impactful that they often overturned world history.

In this world, the true ending of Punk City 3 was considered canon.

However, not only the true ending but other endings were also sporadically seen.

‘Perhaps they are mixed in a way that doesn’t contradict the true ending.’

For example, there was an ending that completely changed the ethos of gangs.

– The Executioner… exists!!!

This was shouted by a legendary gang member during a live broadcast of his execution by a corporation in California.

After that execution, gangs searching for that treasure began to roam across America.

Their reach became so extensive that Jimmy recently joined the <Children of the Snake>, which had expanded beyond two states to reach Amon’s city.

The ending that opened the era of great gangs was titled <The One Treasure>.

Surprisingly, this was not the true ending but a normal ending.

Other normal or bad endings were also occasionally heard of.

In other words, this world was a composite of multiple endings.

‘Perhaps each ending of Punk City 3 was the life of different people.’

Thus, Amon scoured newspapers and history books whenever he could, searching for these endings.

Which ending was canon, and which was apocryphal.

This was the information Amon collected.

Thanks to ten years of information gathering, this part was almost fully organized.

*

“RRRRRRRR~ Two!”

After defining the worldview and organizing history, Amon spat out his mouthwash and thought of the weapons he had.

First, he had no knowledge of the future.

The era he lived in was one that hadn’t been released as a game yet.

But he had more knowledge of the past than anyone else.

While people live only one timeline, Amon’s mind, having gone through numerous iterations, contained information from countless parallel worlds.

Not only forgotten past knowledge but even the world’s secrets, hidden from the surface, were known to him as settings.

He believed without a doubt that this was his weapon.

However, there were regrets.

‘First, skill proficiency is not like a game, so there’s no helping it…’

Just in case, he tried various methods to see if he could cheat skill proficiency like in a game.

He tried running in circles to increase his stamina stat and hitting a dummy with a steel pipe to raise his swordsmanship proficiency.

And the conclusion he reached.

This is reality.

Not a simulation or a game, but real reality.

Cheating skill proficiency is impossible.

Opening status screens is impossible.

But there was a gain in the process.

‘The talent system definitely exists.’

Though not visible on a screen like in a game, and you can’t distribute stats at birth, it was clear.

The talent system exists in a way similar to games.

*

Amon left the bathroom and headed to his bedroom, recalling the talent stat settings.

Traditionally in Punk City, you could distribute talent stats when creating a character.

Talents not only provided proficiency bonuses in specific routes or skill trees but also influenced the high points.

Of course, even with talents, the initial talent didn’t dictate the entire game.

With enough time investment or by twisting your body to find opportunities, you could surpass your talent and reach high points.

But Amon had no hobby of taking the hard path when an easy one was available.

He preferred efficiency.

Thus, for the past ten years, he had been trying to find his talent.

He made a list of all the talents from Punk City 1 to 3 and checked them one by one, crossing them off.

First, it was certain that he had high charm.

At least 40% of people were kind to him at first sight.

‘This alone makes life much easier.’

Though one might wonder what use charm has, surprisingly, even in games, charm was a stat you needed to meet the minimum requirement.

If your charm was too low, you’d get all sorts of unfair treatment for no reason.

– You seem suspicious. Let’s pretend we never agreed to cooperate.

NPCs you need to cooperate with suddenly get moody,

– This is the original price. Go to another store and see how much they charge. *spit*

Merchants try to rip you off at every opportunity,

– Wait. Don’t come closer. Stop there and don’t follow me.

If your charm is 0, only 10% of people are polite at first sight, and 90% draw weapons and guard if you make eye contact.

If it goes negative, you might get dragged to the police station just for standing still. (It has nothing to do with skin color.)

Especially during timed quests, getting dragged to the police station could fail the quest and lead straight to a bad ending, so charm had to meet the minimum requirement.

However, if you didn’t care about the story and just wanted to cause chaos, you could deliberately set your charm low.

Or, conversely, set your appearance to look like a grotesque monster and max out charm to turn the genre into comedy.

‘Ah… I don’t miss you, Mr. Xenomorph development expert.’

If you max out the charm of a bizarre purple monster, everyone falls in love with it.

Watching this on screen was hilariously funny, so Amon always allocated max charm when creating bizarre characters.

Of course, in reality, charm doesn’t work like in games, and even if it did, he didn’t want to be born as a purple monster.

Anyway, after checking charm,

Amon’s talent list didn’t gain any more checkmarks.

He wasn’t talented in magic.

Nor in speech or persuasion, nor in crafting.

By process of elimination, these areas were crossed off.

Hacking was still untested, so it was pending.

What remained was weapons and firearms.

And the day to confirm these was not far off.

Tomorrow.

He planned to confirm his talent.

‘I should sleep early today.’

He stopped thinking and pulled up the blanket.

If he falls asleep while shooting, it would be a disaster.

***

A day passed, and finally, the day Amon had been waiting for arrived.

Thanksgiving.

Also known as America’s Chuseok.

A festival day with delicious food and fun activities filling the streets!

…Not really.

In a punk genre, if the streets were overflowing with goodwill, it wouldn’t be punk.

In cyberpunk, Thanksgiving was a day for citizens to open their wallets a bit more cheerfully, and for corporations to don a mask of goodwill and exploit people a bit more.

But it wasn’t entirely a hollow day.

Thanksgiving had Black Friday sales and special events.

Amon was aiming for this.

What money does an orphanage have to buy guns or swords for the orphans?

That’s why Amon hadn’t been able to check if he had talent in guns or swords.

But Thanksgiving was different.

On this day, you could experience guns or swords at least once, even if you didn’t have money.

Because shooting ranges and dojos held competitions with prizes during this time.

Even if not competitions, people’s wallets tended to be lighter during this period, so they offered free experiences.

Coincidentally, this year Amon turned 15, and with the orphanage director’s permission to handle guns, he finally got the chance to pull the trigger.

“Sharpshooter Amon, deploying~”

Amon muttered to himself cheerfully as he left the orphanage.

“Hehe.”

Sonia followed behind Amon.

Amon had hinted that she didn’t need to follow, but Sonia wanted to experience it too and followed.

The two passed through the bustling streets on the holiday and headed to the shooting range.

Bang bang!

At the <Constitution of America> shooting range, deafening gunshots echoed.

“I’m here to participate in the competition!!”

Amon shouted towards the gun shop owner amidst the noise.

The owner, behind bulletproof glass, gestured that he couldn’t hear.

Amon moved closer to the glass and shouted.

“Competition!! Participate!!!!”

The gun shop owner nodded.

He handed Amon a paper with the rules.

Amon, having already familiarized himself with the rules, skimmed it and stuffed it into his pocket.

The rules were simple.

Score as many points as possible within the time limit.

Targets moved, and scoring varied by firearm.

Amon borrowed an old pistol and rifle and stood at the shooting range.

A broadcast from the speaker in his lane announced.

[Get ready. 3, 2, 1. Start!]

Bang!

He pulled the pistol’s trigger.

A heavy recoil shook his shoulder and made his wrist ache.

‘Ouch. It hurts more than I thought.’

Thinking about it, it was obvious.

In this world, the targets for guns were creatures with skin thicker than wild boars or cyborgs with steel-replaced skin.

The average caliber and gunpowder were on a different level from his past life.

Even Amon, who prided himself on being strong among his peers regardless of race, couldn’t fully control the recoil.

His hand was numb, but he kept pulling the trigger.

After the pistol, he switched to the rifle and started shooting.

Rapid fire was prohibited, so he fired single shots, calmly pulling the trigger.

Due to the recoil, the bullets kept slightly veering off the target.

The final score was 1100.

Most bullets hit the 10-point zone, some the 9-point, and the farthest one was a 7.

The shooting range manager clapped and congratulated Amon.

“You won’t starve anywhere.”

Amon agreed.

With this level of talent, he could make a living as a mercenary.

Amon returned the guns and internally assessed his firearm talent.

‘Not a gun talent.’

Not bad.

But not enough to reach high points.

Amon’s goal was to see the true ending.

The people he would meet had neural acceleration devices as a basic and shot magic-tech beams that could pierce tanks.

To face such people, he needed to hit perfect 10s with rifles in both hands and rapid fire.

Thus, Amon rated his gun talent as ‘mediocre.’

‘Guns are on hold.’

He marked a triangle on the talent candidate list.

After concluding about guns, Amon waited for Sonia before heading to the next location.

Soon, it was Sonia’s turn.

She seriously shouldered the rifle and pulled the trigger.

Ratatatat!

“???”

An unusual rapid fire echoed.

The judge tried to disqualify Sonia for using rapid fire in a single-shot competition.

But-

“This is single-shot, right?”

Proving her innocence, she performed rapid fire again in single-shot mode.

Her fingers moved so fast they left afterimages.

Ratatatat!

“Huh? Huh…?”

The flustered judge asked her.

“Did you get an implant in your fingers?”

“No? I haven’t had any surgeries.”

The judge was stunned by her being a pure human.

After much deliberation, he acknowledged her innocence.

Thus, her shooting show resumed.

Sonia firing single shots like rapid fire.

Her aim was incredibly stable.

Stable enough to balance a cup of water on the barrel.

As if the game had no recoil due to budget constraints, there was no recoil.

‘What? Does she have four cushions absorbing the recoil?’

All her bullets hit the bullseye.

Before anyone realized, everyone at the shooting range was mesmerized by her.

Her shooting ended, and the score was revealed.

3500.

Amon patted Sonia’s shoulder and said.

“You definitely have a clear career path.”

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