117. International Diplomacy (2)
"Reinforcement?"
Steven explained that the method for using the coins developed in the United States was precisely weapon reinforcement.
Bahamut couldn't possibly be unaware of the word "reinforcement," but...
Kuh. My head!
For some reason, the word triggered a trauma, making Bahamut feel an urge to clutch his throbbing skull right then and there.
The word "reinforcement" in itself was perfectly innocuous. Unfortunately, however, Bahamut was an idiot dragon who, before the apocalypse, had holed up in his room like a total Yeopo—riddled with trauma from endless reinforcement failures.
My precious high-grade items that were like my own children!
Yes, this fool of a dragon was a full-blown PTSD patient who'd tasted the fiery hell of K-Online's infamous reinforcement system. How many pieces of gear had he bid farewell to under that notorious method? It was a nightmarish memory Bahamut could never forget!
Of course it's those Americans! They wouldn't develop the K-reinforcement system, would they?
No, they absolutely shouldn't. It was an ugly abomination that must never manifest in reality!
Bahamut gazed at Steven with trembling eyes, and sensing the stare, Steven beamed and showcased America's proud technological achievement.
"By using a certain quantity of Bahamut coins, you can enhance a weapon's performance. Swords, maces, guns crafted by our artisans... as long as the equipment's durability holds, reinforcement is possible indefinitely."
And contrary to expectations, America had indeed developed a reinforcement technology using the coins to boost weapon performance—one that could continue endlessly until the gear's durability gave out.
Didn't this sound awfully familiar?
Huh? Isn't this a reinforcement method I've seen somewhere before? Is this really okay?
What an unsettling technology. Bahamut even pondered seriously whether something like this truly belonged in the real world.
"R-right, reinforcement... reinforcement... So, how's the performance?"
"Yes. At first, the reinforcement efficiency was poor, but from a certain point onward, it approaches nearly double the original weapon's output."
"In that case, wouldn't it be more profitable to just make one more Bahamut Bullet instead? Using the same amount of coins."
The early stages had low efficiency, but performance spiked dramatically after a threshold. If the initial efficiency wasn't exceptionally high, wouldn't it be better to craft even one extra Bahamut Bullet with those materials? With the same coin quantity, people would prefer weapons they could use right away.
"In America today, you need a strong weapon to call yourself a strong hero. Our numerous heroes are buying up as many Bahamut coins as possible to obtain powerful gear."
"I... I see. Well, in the apocalypse, craving strong weapons isn't strange at all."
"Exactly. In this apocalypse, raw power brings trust and credibility. Besides, awakeners are the high-income class, aren't they? They won't go bankrupt just from splurging on weapons."
Levels rose inevitably through combat, but gear had to match that growth. Just as Jin A-yeon, who was slightly stronger than Jeong Dong-gun due to better equipment during their duel at the superhuman level, ended up losing because of the gap—reality allowed gear disparities to override level differences.
In the apocalypse, overwhelming strength translated directly to trust and credit. To amass more wealth and fame, powerful awakeners turned to coin-based reinforcement as the fastest path to superior weapons.
We kept winning thanks to gear advantages ourselves. It'd be weirder if money-rich America didn't exploit item luck.
Steven's explanation made perfect sense, and Bahamut nodded in understanding. They were importing massive coin quantities purely for reinforcement, planning to crush foes with sheer gear superiority. If anything, that felt quintessentially American.
But the real issue came next.
"Thanks to this, unknown heroes are even taking loans from federal banks to buy coins and reinforce their weapons. Prices for weapons handcrafted by master reinforcers—who can handle high volumes—are rising too."
"Taking out loans? Isn't that risky?"
Established heroes had likely already built wealth and fame with their reinforced gear, securing high-income status in American society. But newcomers were different. Bahamut worried about Steven's mention of loans for reinforcement.
"Hahaha, no need to worry. They're awakeners. Unlike zombies, the mana stones and hides from monsters we hunt have value for research or materials. They satisfy potbellied collectors' desires, and research yields entirely new products we never knew about. The latter's still in development, but it'll hit the market eventually."
Far from worrying, Steven reassured him. Even rookies were awakeners. Hunting monsters with reinforced weapons yielded mana stones and hides to swiftly repay minor bank loans.
The White House was already monopolizing awakener-produced stones and hides. In response, state governments, rarity-obsessed collectors, and fat cats were snapping them up at premium prices. Demand overflowed; it would be odd not to borrow for better weapons.
"So, hunting monsters lets them pay off debts quickly?"
"Yes. Even if an awakener lacks upfront cash or pulls a loan, a powerful weapon lets them hunt monsters and clear debts fast. Selling pre-reinforced weapons to latecomers recovers the investment too. From their perspective, it's pure profit—they can't resist."
Yes, invest and succeed. Awakeners could easily secure loans, buy top-tier gear, hunt endlessly, sell the loot, repay debts, and turn that initial high-grade weapon into a business tool. If they quit, resale was effortless—new awakeners craved such gear, recouping costs easily. Zero risk!
What is this? It feels... so familiar. Where have I seen this before?
Yet Bahamut felt another twinge of deja vu from the explanation. Why did Steven's words feel so strangely familiar? He couldn't pinpoint why, but it was welcoming, like reuniting with an old friend—comfortingly routine.
"Alright, let's move on."
"Yes. I'd love to elaborate more on reinforcement, but we have important matters left."
To shake off the unease, Bahamut shifted topics. Steven nodded and made a proposal.
"Lord Bahamut, what are your thoughts on establishing an international organization?"
"You mean... the UN?"
"Yes, the reconstruction of the UN. What do you think?"
It was none other than the reestablishment—reconstruction—of an international body. The term evoked the UN for Bahamut, and Steven confirmed it without missing a beat.
"Is it not proof that humanity endures? By my knowledge, such organizations prevent atrocities and maintain peace."
That was Bahamut's layman's view of the UN. Steven grinned broadly, as if it aligned perfectly, and continued.
"Precisely. Of course, it's called a puppet, limited, criticized endlessly... but yes. We survivors who've formed governments aim to unite our strength for a new international organization."
"A new international organization."
"Indeed. And what if you—or rather, the Balhut Cult—joined as a member? That's my proposal."
He subtly downplayed the UN's flaws but argued its necessity in the apocalypse, inviting Bahamut—precisely, the Balhut Cult—to participate. For the cult, it was a chance for formal international recognition as a nation. Not bad at all. In fact, a boon. Stunned, Bahamut asked Steven,
"How many participating countries so far?"
"America, UK, France, Germany, Japan, and Korea. Others are mere provisional governments without proper structure. Britain and France will probably force them in anyway."
"I see."
To counter Britain and France dragging in provisional allies for voting power, America needed its own bloc—including the Balhut Cult.
"To defy the apocalypse, humanity needs a beacon amid this crisis. That's the international organization. Proof we've united as one... Though honestly, this proposal didn't originate with us Americans."
"Huh?"
The catch: it wasn't America's idea. Bahamut blinked in confusion, and Steven elaborated.
"Why meddle in others' affairs when our own house is urgent? As long as business thrives, that's enough. America's no world police or hegemon now—just scrambling to survive."
"Fair enough."
Unlike pre-apocalypse, America was too busy domestically for interventions. Profitable trade? Good enough.
"France proposed it. Their hero, the Orleans Saintess, suggested the international body, and the Protector endorsed it. Those two collaborating closely? Terrifying."
Britain and France—the Protector and Orleans Saintess—pushed the initiative, putting America on high alert against their alliance. Yet they couldn't ignore it; those powers represented Europe, and their pact threatened transatlantic dominance.
"Hm. Do they need prestige too?"
In a survival scramble, why push this if not America? Bahamut wondered if it was for face.
"Yes, both sides crave it—ours included. Especially the Protector; intel says he's desperate. Apparently, he aimed for the throne himself but failed, settling for propping up the young queen."
Emperor delusion case.
Confirmed: prestige was key, stemming from a botched palace coup. A classic emperor wannabe had emerged in Europe, attempted it, failed—but still played puppet emperor. The coup's fallout made prestige vital.
"And the Orleans Saintess who proposed it?"
"A European supremacist. Extreme one."
One side unhinged; perhaps the other normal? No—birds of a feather. Steven softened it for Bahamut, but it meant hardcore Euro-supremacist. Racist potential: high.
"…………."
Bahamut fell silent at "emperor nutcase" and "Euro-supremacist." Rolling his eyes, gauging Steven's reaction.
"I... get the silence. Yeah, it's like that."
Steven sighed in shared understanding.
"Hm. Is this really for humanity's unity?"
"Probably. For their sake, at least."
What an unnerving prospect.