Chapter 78

*KABOOM!*

The ground-shaking vibration woke up the city’s night.

The people of the slum area fled in haste from their shelters.

As far away as possible from the source of that explosion.

No one questioned the cause of the explosion.

In the slum area, those with the gene for curiosity had naturally gone extinct.

Even the occasional mutants who briefly felt curiosity…

*KABOOM!*

…were silenced by the echoing explosion and fled with all their might.

Thus, no one saw a figure emerging from the explosion.

“Where the hell did this guy come from?”

Amon brushed off the dust on his shoulder, grumbling.

No matter how strong he had become, he never let his guard down.

Before attacking the gang, he thoroughly investigated the entry routes and manpower distribution.

He even looked into the Megacorp supplying them with people.

Though entangled with the gang, they didn’t seem loyal enough to come to their aid.

But reality differed from his expectations.

The axe-wielder had come, and Amon ended up fighting him.

If he had come as reinforcements, Amon could have accepted that his prediction failed.

But this axe-wielder didn’t seem to care about the gang members or the factory facilities.

Just moments ago, the shockwave from his axe had sent several gang members flying.

The gang members were too busy fleeing to help him attack Amon.

The situation was utterly incomprehensible.

“Guess I have no choice.”

Amon called for a timeout and attempted to talk to the axe-wielder.

Not the wisest move mid-battle, but in a world where information was as vital as life, it was worth the risk.

Keeping himself ready to dodge the axe at any moment, Amon asked, “Where are you from?”

Fortunately, the axe-wielder seemed the type to enjoy banter mid-fight, as he sheathed his axe and answered, “I live off a salary.”

“Your position?”

“Security Chief.”

“?”

The axe-wielder’s answer left Amon quite baffled.

Security Chief?

Did he hear that right?

“Did you mean External Intelligence Department Head or Secret Operations Division? Did you misspeak?”

“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to.”

“…Why?”

Amon couldn’t understand.

Judging by his combat power alone, the rank of Security Chief made sense.

The problem was why he was here.

Security Chiefs or Security Heads were the last line of defense, the shield of a company.

You only saw them when the company was under attack.

It was like a goalkeeper joining the forward line in soccer.

A Security Chief outside the company was that out of place.

Thus, he had to ask again, “Why is a Security Chief here…?”

The axe-wielder, seemingly tired of the conversation, drew his axe again.

“I told you! I came to see what kind of guy you are!”

You never said that.

Amon wanted to retort, but the axe-wielder started swinging, ending the banter.

However, while dodging the axe, one thing became clear.

He was dealing with a madman.

*Sigh…*

Amon sighed involuntarily.

He thought he was living a decent life, but why were all the troublesome ones lunatics?

“Wait, no. Maybe the world’s gone mad, and I’m the only one who can’t keep up.”

With that thought, he dodged the axe swings.

Blocking wasn’t an option.

Every light swing of the axe caused explosions like dynamite. Blocking that would be insane.

A slightly stronger swing could blow away half the factory. Trusting his adaptation and regeneration to face it head-on would only lead to being bisected.

The only saving grace was that, by Amon’s standards, the axe was slow.

Of course, to an ordinary person, it would be too fast to even see.

“Yeah, this is what a Security Chief should be like.”

All the strong opponents Amon had faced so far were in states where they couldn’t unleash their full power.

The Security Chief he met within the Hixen Group subdued him without needing to go all out, and the Chief he encountered during Cash’s company takeover operation couldn’t fight due to being hacked.

The closest was the Mage (Security Chief-flavored cookie) he recently met, who showed a glimpse of his power, but even that wasn’t his full strength since it was indoors.

This level of combat power was typical for strong fighters outside the company.

They fought with the intent to casually destroy a building or two and demolish an entire district.

The axe-wielder who suddenly appeared before Amon was that kind of person.

Fear?

There was none.

The old Amon might have fled, but now there was no reason to run.

Amon calmly dodged the axe, waiting for an opening.

He still had one joker card up his sleeve.

And when the axe swung horizontally toward his waist, Amon leaped into the air.

Amon’s gaze lingered on the axe-wielder’s face.

The axe-wielder was smiling.

The hand gripping the axe tightened.

The horizontally swung axe defied inertia and swung vertically upward.

But Amon was also smiling beneath his mask.

“Horizontal slash followed by a vertical uppercut.”

Exactly as Amon had anticipated.

Ordinary warriors could never resist the moment their opponent leaped into the air.

It was the most vulnerable state, where they couldn’t dodge or block properly.

But this was precisely what Amon had been waiting for.

He hadn’t shown his Sky Step even once during the fight, saving it for this moment.

Amon’s legs kicked off the air, dodging the axe.

The axe-wielder reacted by raising his left hand.

But Amon kicked off the air again, landing behind the axe-wielder.

And with all his might, he swung his sword at the back of the neck.

*Ting!*

A barrier formed, deflecting the sword.

“Damn it.”

A curse slipped out unintentionally.

Of course.

It couldn’t end that easily.

“My sword’s a decent one too.”

He briefly thought that, then shook off the distraction.

There was no time to dwell on regrets.

He just had to accept that his opponent was decked out with better techniques and equipment.

While Amon quickly revised his plan, the axe-wielder scratched the back of his neck as if it itched.

“I knew you had something hidden when you came alone, but to hide such a skill…”

The axe-wielder laughed, revealing a yellowish gold tooth.

“Psychological warfare isn’t just your thing, kid.”

Amon nodded, acknowledging that he had underestimated him.

Clearly, he hadn’t earned the title of Security Chief for nothing.

Amon bowed his head in apology.

“My apologies for the rudeness.”

“Then are you done testing and ready to fight for real?”

“Understood. I’ll go all out too.”

Amon gripped his right-hand sword in reverse and aimed his left-hand double-barreled crossbow at the axe-wielder.

The axe-wielder’s smile deepened.

“That’s it! That’s the American spirit!”

The axe-wielder revved up his axe.

*Vroom.*

The axe vibrated, emitting a motorcycle exhaust sound.

As the axe-wielder tied a bandana with the American flag to his horn, Amon crouched into a sprinting stance.

Then, Amon’s figure vanished.

“Behind you!”

The axe-wielder swung his axe backward without hesitation.

*KABOOM!!*

An explosion unlike any before erupted.

A massive dust cloud rose from the abandoned factory site.

“Hah!”

The axe-wielder laughed heartily, swinging his axe repeatedly.

Explosions continued to erupt.

But soon, the axe-wielder felt something was off.

“Something’s wrong…”

There was no satisfying impact.

He paused his attacks, uneasy.

Despite openly showing his weakness, no attacks came.

“Don’t tell me…”

As the dust settled, the view cleared.

Only the axe-wielder stood in the vast open space.

Faced with the reality he didn’t want to acknowledge, his face turned red.

“You… you…”

The axe-wielder’s roar echoed through the slum area.

“You coward!!!”

…

Later, the axe-wielder vented his anger on the remains of the abandoned factory and left.

He slung his axe over his back and mounted his Harley bike.

“That damn bastard. I thought I’d finally found a decent opponent.”

Still fuming, he gritted his teeth and started the engine.

*Vroom.*

The bike roared angrily, reflecting his temperament.

The bike sped away from the slum area toward the city.

…

Not far from where the bike had left, in a parking lot.

A dump truck’s engine started.

…

***

On the highway leading to the city.

The axe-wielder, Haspun, reflected on the recent fight.

The man he fought was an excellent swordsman.

He accurately understood that his body couldn’t block the axe and focused solely on evasion.

Even so, the gaze from behind the mask kept targeting Haspun’s nape.

The weakest point of his otherwise robust body.

Though somewhat protected by a barrier, it was still a potential fatal weakness.

Haspun had taken a liking to the masked man.

Most opponents he faced recently would flee at the mere sight of him.

But this one had even used Sky Step as a joker card to target his nape, sending a chill down his spine while also delighting him.

He had even paused the fight to attempt conversation.

But when the real battle began…

“That damn bastard.”

True to his masked, robed appearance, he just ran away.

“Next time, I’ll gut him and hang his neck.”

Haspun swore to his axe.

Soon, his beloved bike entered the highway.

Cars made way for his reckless lane changes.

The road’s tyrant, feared by all vehicles.

“Honestly.”

He disliked them all.

A bunch of cowards.

These days, America was full of gays, idiots, and opportunists.

Ah, how sad!

Where has the American spirit gone?

*Honk!*

Haspun honked his horn, filled with sorrow, as he entered the bridge.

Gays and opportunists hurried to distance themselves from his bike.

Then, in his side mirror, he spotted a dump truck.

While other cars kept their distance, the dump truck sped up, following the bike.

“That’s it! That’s what an American should be!”

Haspun slowed down, wanting to see the truck driver’s face.

As the bike slowed, the truck driver changed lanes to the right.

“Planning to overtake?”

He liked the spirit.

Haspun smiled broadly, looking at the driver’s seat.

A typical redneck with a wrinkled face glared angrily at Haspun.

“Haha!”

That’s it! This is the-

At that moment, Haspun felt something off.

His appearance, his actions—this middle-aged man was a typical American.

But Haspun’s soul denied it.

Beneath that American face swirled a disgusting malice.

A cold intuition made him try to steer the bike.

Immediately, the truck driver turned the wheel toward the bike.

Haspun quickly drew his axe and sliced the truck in half.

But the massive mass still crashed into the bike, sending both truck and bike off the bridge.

As he fell, Haspun’s slow-motion vision saw the truck driver, moving with agility unbefitting his age, escaping the driver’s seat.

When the driver landed briefly on the falling truck, Haspun realized the truth.

“It was a hologram!”

As if affirming his thought, the driver’s body flickered.

Then, the robed man he had just fought—Amon—revealed himself.

In the brief time before hitting the water, Amon shouted,

“[Lord, let the water fill my soul!]”

*Splash!*

Haspun and his bike fell into the river, followed by the truck.

Amon kicked off the falling truck, leaping into the air and grabbing the bridge’s railing, continuing his chant.

“[From the deep mire with no foothold, into the deep waters, let the great waters overflow! Save me!]”

Haspun, submerged, swung his axe at the sinking truck above him.

The river water surged.

But the shockwave from the truck and water didn’t reach Amon.

Haspun hurriedly swam to the surface.

But his heavy axe only weighed him down.

Hanging from the railing, Amon continued his chant as Haspun remained in the water.

“[My eyes are weary from crying out, my throat is parched!]”

While chanting, Amon thought of his weapon.

Every class had its own weapon.

For warriors like Haspun, it was a sturdy body and immense strength.

For mages, unparalleled firepower.

For snipers, range and stealth.

And for assassins like Amon, it was carelessness and information.

“[Those stronger than me, those who hate me, those who seek to cut me off, have become my enemies, trying to take everything from me.]”

No matter what Haspun thought of Amon, Amon wasn’t a warrior.

Though he used a sword, his weapons were always ambush, information, and carelessness.

Some might call it cowardly.

But Amon was simply true to his role.

“[Let their schemes become snares, their peace a trap that binds them.]”

By the time Amon’s chant reached its midpoint, Haspun finally surfaced.

He spotted Amon hanging from the bridge and aimed a grenade with his left hand.

But Amon jumped off the bridge, dodging the attack.

And the Confession of Faith, reaching its midpoint, began to take effect.

“[Let their eyes grow dim, their backs always bent, their dwellings desolate, and let none survive in their tents.]”

As the chant dictated, Haspun’s vision darkened, and his strength rapidly drained.

There was no escape.

He lacked the strength to disrupt the chant and couldn’t flee the water.

Haspun, recalling his proud American spirit, refused to give up, but the initiative had shifted to Amon.

Amon’s chant reached its conclusion.

“[Lord, save me from the mire, let me not sink, and deliver me from this mire of hatred.]”

“[Salvum de impius palude (Save me from the mire of evil).]”

Immediately, Haspun’s consciousness faded.

Along with his consciousness, his massive body sank to the bottom.

His body resurfaced only the next day.

…

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