Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: The Mercenary's Burden
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# 101
I knew the reason.
I was just waiting for him to bring it up first.
Finally, having sorted out his thoughts, the mercenary captain spoke in a heavy voice.
"The truth is, we have a lot of mouths to feed."
"I see."
"It's not just the families of our members. The numbers are quite substantial."
He continued on.
"The reason I'm lugging around this cumbersome hunk of metal and wandering battlefields, and why the other members follow me into this dangerous mercenary life—it's all for the same reason. Hiring us means taking responsibility for those people too, and no single person could shoulder that burden."
Martial artists typically don't care about money.
Personal combat prowess is the most important factor, and they never slack in training for it.
Yet here he was, a cyborg whose training had effectively been halted, still living the mercenary life. There had to be a reason for that.
They needed money.
Money to support the people they'd committed to taking care of.
He'd complained plenty about the high costs of repairing and maintaining his machine body, but considering what they earned, they shouldn't be that poor.
They ought to have been quite well off.
But just look at this spaceship—worn and battered as it was.
That was proof that money was leaking out somewhere else.
"...I see. So that's the issue."
The mercenary captain nodded.
He looked regretful that he couldn't accept my proposal.
I tossed a single remark his way.
"But is that the only reason you're turning down my offer?"
"...What else do you need?"
"How many people is the Metal Gear Mercenary Corps supporting?"
"About 300,000."
"That's not that many."
I replied with a bright smile.
But the mercenary captain's expression turned strange.
I didn't stop and kept talking.
"Probably refugees and retired soldiers, right? You're doing a good deed. Still, isn't it too much for a 500-man mercenary unit to shoulder the livelihoods of 300,000 people?"
"...It just happened that way, taking them in one or two at a time whenever they caught our eye."
"For now, let's start with financial support. We can discuss building a stable foundation step by step—how about that?"
"...Really?"
"I've got more than enough money to spare."
"If you could just do that...!"
Monarch Family cosmetics were selling like hotcakes, bringing in money at a terrifying rate.
To the point where it was almost unmanageable.
It was such a high-margin business that even just collecting dividends outpaced the profits from military weapon supplies.
So what choice did I have?
I had to spend it.
Moreover, since birds of a feather flock together, many of the people supported by the Metal Gear Mercenary Corps had ties to martial artists and the like.
If I took responsibility for them and earned their goodwill, I could seamlessly take over the foundation they were building.
I needed to scale up going forward, and I couldn't keep sourcing combat crew from elsewhere every time.
Having a steady supply of battle-hardened veterans from the front lines would make my backing rock-solid.
"Of course, to move forward with this, we need to wrap up this job successfully first, right?"
"...Ah, y-yes."
"Please keep this confidential all the way through."
I raised my index finger to my lips.
I'd spent some money, but it seemed I'd half-reeled him in.
*
A few days later.
Things with Mutant Corp progressed rapidly, and suddenly a security tribunal was convened.
Despite voices saying the evidence was insufficient.
Naturally, there was a lot of talk.
Groups friendly to Mutant Corp fiercely criticized the Alliance leadership.
They even signaled they wouldn't cooperate smoothly with Alliance events anymore if things went this way.
If nothing happened at the tribunal, it really could've turned out that way.
Thanks to that, even within the Alliance, which had received no prior heads-up, voices of reflection emerged.
Broadcasts hammered home how the Alliance—formed to protect humanity—was being misused in pointless power struggles.
Just watching the coverage made Mutant Corp seem like it had instantly transformed into a white-hat corporation.
This was all controversy sparked by the importance of the security tribunal.
All the prior cases had involved threats lethal to humanity's security.
This one should naturally be on the same level, but the consensus was that it'd been rushed through.
"It's here again. Again!"
Darmosa, looking relaxed for once as he sipped his tea, scowled at the incoming message.
I didn't need to ask what it said—it was obvious.
"That's just because it's so sensitive."
"They think they can back out now and it'll be fine to clean up later? Do I look that spineless to them?"
"Bro, hang in there. It's over tomorrow anyway, right?"
Darmosa shrugged and chucked the panel away.
Now he was outright ignoring them.
"But you're not gonna tell me how you pulled this off?"
"I've got an insider researcher. How many times do I have to say it?"
"It's just amazing. How do you keep delivering exactly what we need?"
He tilted his head, eyeing me intently until I recoiled in disgust, then let out a sleazy chuckle and reclined his chair.
"Ahh, this feels good..."
"You've had a lot of stress piling up lately, haven't you?"
"Those Mutant Corp bastards keep throwing curveballs at every turn. But once this blows up, I can hit 'em hard."
All the materials I'd obtained raiding the secret lab—proof of Mutant Corp's guilt—had been handed over to Tana.
Now she just needed to review them with her trusted team, process them for easy presentation, and the mission was done.
Darmosa originally hadn't planned to push to a full tribunal.
It wasn't a slam-dunk case to crush them completely, so going all-in would've been a burden for him too.
But after seeing what I'd brought, he changed his mind on the spot.
He'd already run the calculations before I even tried persuading him.
Thanks to that, the tribunal date was set at full speed before they could notice the lab breach and prepare countermeasures.
"Ahh, so refreshing!"
Now he was stretching languidly.
I watched Darmosa and chuckled softly.
'He'll be fine for a while now.'
I was handling his mental care with regular check-ins and passing along distractions, but that couldn't satisfy him completely.
Still, once he vented this stress, there'd be no breakdowns anytime soon.
That said, it was frustrating how his relationship with Tana showed no progress despite my help from the sidelines.
Anyway, now that he was in a good mood, it was the perfect time to bring up another matter.
"What? You want to go independent?"
He startled more than necessary.
"Yeah."
"There's so much more work I need you for!"
"...Your true feelings are showing too much."
"Anyway, no!"
I'd expected this.
Napael had brought it up casually, but Darmosa wasn't the type to let me go easily.
Just look at how he'd pulled me into the Central Superhuman Unit without even graduating the academy.
"And you're still provisional. How can you dream of independence already?"
"With the merits I've racked up this time, skipping a few months shouldn't be an issue. And shouldn't they encourage this kind of thing normally?"
"Even so, this is too much. Way too soon."
Darmosa muttered, face scrunched up.
I pressed my case.
"I've got all the preparations ready. I've even mapped out future operations. You know my strength isn't raw combat—it's analyzing alien behavior and devising tactics, right? Tying me down like this isn't good."
"You still have a lot to learn. You haven't even grasped all the superhuman duties...!"
"I've had that figured out for ages, thanks to you and Senior Tana. I'm already handling some command duties."
"...Ugh."
"Plus, external affairs are familiar to me because of my background, and I'll stick to Triple Link region for main ops for a while. What do you think?"
"...You really have to go independent?"
He looked like a parent watching a kid leave home.
Why so desperate? But staying tied down here any longer was a waste of time.
From the academy to now—over two years—and I'd rarely moved freely.
I'd learned a ton in that time, but now I'd surpassed the level where I needed long slogs to achieve things.
Of course, the superhuman status, core weapon, and various connections would be huge boosts going forward.
Even so, this incident made it clear: it was time to stand alone.
I was stronger when free than when bound.
"Trust me—letting me loose will help you retire sooner. Isn't that your dream?"
"...How do you know about that?"
"I'll make it happen."
This time, for sure.
Darmosa sat there, deflated, unable to continue for a while.
In the end, what he uttered was acceptance.
*
Napael and I sat on the same sofa, munching popcorn.
The movie we were watching: the security tribunal.
A reversal drama starring Mutant Corp as the villains.
"Sweet as honey. Pure honey."
Napael burst out laughing as he watched Mutant Corp execs freeze upon seeing the Alliance's evidence files.
It really was hilarious.
Up until the evidence dropped, they'd been arrogantly insisting their innocence.
But from moments ago, it had flipped completely.
"Those guys haven't even faced aliens, and now they're ending up like our family used to."
"Worse than that. No clear path to recovery."
Seeing them relive Monarch Family's downfall made it even sweeter.
The tribunal dragged on after that.
As the judge raised his voice, laying out every piece of evidence and the charges, Mutant Corp's faces darkened in proportion.
The trial, starting around lunchtime, finally issued its first verdict past dinner time.
Napael and I watched the whole thing without budging from our seats.
"That's harsh. The first verdict alone might sink them."
Security tribunal verdicts usually come in 2 or 3 stages.
And they get heavier as they go.
With the severity here, it was likely 3+ rounds, and if the first was this bad, the end could shred them into dozens of operations, leaving nothing intact.
'At that point, it'd be as good as a death sentence.'
Mutant Corp was the most overt force in "Next Generation."
And the largest organization.
So if they crumbled, Next Generation's movements would be crippled too.
'That leaves two of the three big troublemakers neutered already.'
As I'd mentioned before, there were three major problem groups in the world right now.
Next Generation was reined in by this.
Elohim Church was basically done—still hunting down followers nonstop, no sign of resurgence.
That left the Purists, and with the other two weakened, their next moves were a total mystery.
Either way, it wasn't bad.
Just stay vigilant against other troublemakers filling the vacuum.
"You got Junior out okay?"
"Of course. Good thing we handled it early, looking at this mess."
"Keep your promise."
"Naturally."
I'd handed Junior over to the Herman family before the tribunal.
No way I'd get what I wanted later, and it panned out perfectly.
"But what was that guy's deal, anyway?"
Napael asked.
Natural reaction, given how humbly they'd met my demands.
'Sshould I tell him?'
It wasn't the kind of secret that'd cause issues if Napael knew.
It was just weird that I knew it at all.
I pondered briefly, then spoke.
"...Junior was a kind of clone."
Clone
A genetically identical duplicate.
"A clone? They were raising a clone as their son?"
"Yeah. Not just any clone, though. More like a body prepared for a body change."
"Crazy bastard. So that's why they let him run wild without interfering?"
"Could be. But they had to hide it externally, so they let him build a record to create a support base. That's why he showed up at my ambush last time."
Vicious.
Raising the body he'd steal as his son.
Junior grew up not even knowing why he had no mom.
That explained his obsession with women.
"But okay, body change aside—how were they solving brain aging? Without that, it's pointless."
Napael hit the nail on the head.
Creating a clone with no rejection for transfer was insanely hard already, but halting brain aging was deemed outright impossible.