Cyberpunk Mercenaries: Ambush in the Depths
Thud! A massive beast crashed to the ground with a heavy boom. Black, tar-like blood oozed from its rotting hide. The creature had three heads, but one was riddled with holes like a rag, another reduced to scorched bare bone that could no longer function as a head, and the last one's crown crumpled, robbing it of any purpose. The three-headed abomination, made of decayed flesh and bone, dissolved into particles the moment it fell.
"Magical creature, huh."
"Yeah, if it were a chimera, this room'd reek of corpses."
Saying that, the mage Paul and tank Tori checked on their party members. The firepower specialist, blue-haired Hail, had burned through most of his ammo during the fight. The yellow-haired one had also exhausted nearly all his shotgun shells and sniper rounds. Fortunately, the boss went down just as their ammo hit critical lows.
"Damage report. One minor injury, no fatalities."
"Don't need you to tell me."
The blue and yellow duo started bickering the second it ended. Their lovers exchanged wry smiles watching them. Just as he'd assured Amon, the party had taken down the mid-boss with minimal losses. And as if the heavens weren't indifferent to their toil, there was even a reward.
"Right, leader. Something dropped earlier, yeah?"
The yellow-haired guy pointed to where the boss had fallen. A glowing purple orb rolled lazily across the floor. Paul nodded toward it, and the yellow-haired one scampered over to snatch it up. The instant he did, he let out a triumphant yell.
"Fuuuuck!!! It's an essence! Unique grade! Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Woo!!"
The yellow-haired guy wiggled his hips excitedly, holding the orb aloft, and the party burst into laughter. Still dancing, he cupped it in both hands and presented it to Paul like a tribute.
"The feeling we've been waiting for~ Showtime!"
Dududududu. Against the backdrop of the yellow-haired guy's theatrics, Paul examined the essence. Soon, his face lit up like the sun.
"This'll fetch a high price. It's none other than Sky Step."
Sky Step. Also known as Sky Walk.
"Unique grade means no full flight, but it'll still sell for a fortune."
Paul nodded and stowed the essence in his subspace pouch. What was remarkable was that not a single one of them cast greedy eyes toward it. It was only natural. They'd been partying together for over ten years. Humans form brotherhoods turning their backs in battle; after a decade of life side by side, they were family. To them, money was just a tool to better their loved ones' lives—it could never replace each other.
"Feelin' good! Drinks on us tonight!"
Paul's declaration drew a cheer from the mood-maker yellow-haired guy. Tori linked arms with Paul, strolling happily, while blue-haired Hail clapped demurely despite his bulk. The party scoured the boss room, found nothing else, and prepared to leave.
"Let's go!"
The hyped yellow-haired guy flung open the boss room door. The heavy portal swung wide.
Click.
The familiar sound of a pin pulling hit the mercenaries' ears.
"!!!"
0.01 seconds after the sound. The yellow-haired guy maxed out his neural acceleration. Peering through the open door, he spotted the source: a Claymore mine.
"Fuuu—ck."
In the slowed world, he watched the Claymore aimed at him. Before it detonated, he glanced back. Tori and blue-haired Hail's sturdy builds would hold; but Paul would be one-shotted.
0.09 seconds to think.
"Paaa—uuul—!"
Hearing his own sluggish voice, the yellow-haired guy charged toward the party leader and yanked him backward as far as possible.
0.2 seconds elapsed. The Claymore blew.
Boom!
Shrapnel rained down on the party. Hail threw up a barrier; Tori tanked it with her natural skin toughness. And Paul...
"Even!! Hey, snap out of it!! Even!"
Was fine. At the cost of the yellow-haired guy convulsing, drooling blood and spit. He'd shielded Paul with his back, suffering wounds so severe his spine was exposed.
"Damn! Short-circuited!"
Of all times, with his neural accelerator active— the spine implant fried. His nerves were burning from the tip upward.
"Sorry!"
Paul apologized to his unresponsive comrade and severed the spinal cord to his lower body. It stopped the fire from reaching his brain. Finishing first aid, Paul looked up at his teammates. His lover Tori and blue-haired Hail were locked in combat with the ambushers.
Rat-tat-tat! Blue-haired Hail's machine gun roared. But less than a minute later, the empty click of the bolt echoed.
"Outta ammo!!"
Paul tossed the yellow-haired guy's shotgun to blue-haired Hail and began chanting. Tori and Hail stood guard over him. Finally, Paul shouted the activation word.
"Burst!!"
⟨ Burst ⟩
Kaboom!
A massive explosion dwarfing the Claymores erupted before his eyes. Staring at the dust cloud filling the exit from the boss room, the party stayed on high alert. Paul, who'd caused it, staggered.
"Mana's tapped out...!"
That was when it pierced the dust—a spear flying straight at him. No time to react; it impaled his gut.
"Guhk!"
"Honey!"
"Leader!!"
The remaining two's eyes flicked to Paul. A fatal split-second in battle. Figures wielding swords and scythes emerged from the dust. Eyes fused with night-vision implants glaring, they precisely severed blue-haired Hail's arms.
"Hail!"
Tori cried out, activating her pile bunker fists. But before she could swing, her body froze. Then her arms' systems shut down.
"Hackers...!"
The sword- and scythe-wielding ambushers bound the neutralized Tori and Hail in chains. Paul desperately called their names.
Even, Tori, Hail.
But his cries fell flat as the ambushers forced them to their knees.
"Ngh..."
Clutching the spear in his gut, Paul groaned. His vision blurred. Through the haze, more ambushers appeared from the dust. One whistled as he approached Tori and Hail, inspecting blue-haired Hail's mechanical innards, thumping Tori's arms.
"Whoa. Jackpot this time~? Good condition."
"Didn't Atli want eye upgrades?"
"Then don't sell 'em—let's keep 'em."
Appraising Paul's party like merchandise. From that talk alone, Paul knew their kind.
'Scavengers...!'
Kidnappers who stripped implants and organs to sell. Subhuman scum even this beggar world wouldn't treat as people.
The scavengers checking Tori and Hail turned to Even.
"Ehh... this yellow-head's total mush."
"Told ya to dial back the power. Sigh. That neural accelerator's pricey. What a waste."
"We separate it now, it'll be fine, right?"
"Dunno... wanna try?"
Hearing that, Paul bolted upright.
"Stop, you fucking bastards!!"
But he collapsed again. Rage whipped his body, but will couldn't bend reality. The spear in his gut was his brutal truth.
Ignoring the dying Paul, the scavengers prepped surgery on yellow-haired Even. No intent to save him, so no sterilization. Right in the undead boss room's center, they unpacked tools. As comrades' organs were about to be looted before his eyes, Paul's party spat curses.
"Even! Even!!"
"Stop it, you fuckers!"
But they were powerless. Utterly helpless.
'Damn... damn...!'
Paul ground his teeth.
"Please...!"
As his vision faded, his life flashed before him like a montage. Forming the party, a decade together, becoming lovers with Tori. No grand life, but nothing to be ashamed of. So where had it all gone wrong? He'd known dungeon delving might end silently someday. But this was too unfair. Tears streamed from Paul's eyes in injustice. In his dimming mind, a recent memory surfaced.
— "Heh heh. If we ever need to find God in a dungeon, you're our man."
Was that why? Paul murmured unconsciously.
"Lord... please."
...
That was when it happened.
Shink!
Two daggers flew from the exit. They pierced the heads of two scavengers mid-surgery prep. Dead before knowing why.
The rest whipped toward the source. But the exit was empty.
"Wha—what?!"
The flustered scavengers muttered. As their eyes fixed on the exit, a voice came from behind.
Slice. Thud. The chill of paper cutting, then bodies hitting the floor late.
The scavengers looked back. A young man with dual swords radiating menace stood there. Young, no augments. The greenhorn they'd mocked at the explorers' guild. Already four corpses at his feet, glaring at them.
Snapping from his aura only after silver trails claimed two more necks.
"Kill that crazy fuck!"
"He's got nothing worth salvaging— just kill him!"
Scavengers charged Amon, weapons drawn, implants firing. But Amon swung relentlessly, reciting scripture.
"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price..."
Amon swung as he recited. Paul's fading consciousness snapped back at the words, yanked from the Jordan.
"Amon...?"
Paul stared. Amon kept slashing. Methodical slaughter—like a formula, like a worker. Minimal exposure, maximum kills. Scratches multiplied on Amon's body. But his momentum never waned. His feral aura sharpened, chilling their napes.
"Kah—ptui!"
Amon spat bloody phlegm, cleaving another scavenger. They couldn't fathom it. How? No implants—how was he matching them? Surpassing them? Neural accel? He anticipated like he knew. Lured their moves—his blade struck first. Guns? Too close, they glanced off. Magic prep? Ghostly daggers. The battlefield danced in his palm.
'At this rate, we're all dead.'
The scavenger boss decided. He aimed his grenade launcher at Amon and his frontliners together. Loyalty among scavengers was thinner than paper—alliances for profit, never comrades.
"Die, monster!!"
The boss pulled the trigger.
Boom!
Scavengers, Amon—all caught fair in the blast. Unsated, the boss kept firing.
Boom boom boom!
Eight grenades later, he stopped. Silence from the thick dust.
"Phew... we're safe—"
Before he finished, a voice from the dust.
"—not even a blade of grass on this earth is yours, and those who buy and sell their brothers shall burn eternally in hellfire."
Clink. A cross-bearing silhouette emerged from the dust.
'No, not bearing...'
Blood-soaked blades crossed into a cross as he advanced. Discarded one-use barriers rolled at his feet. The boss paled. Amon, glaring, licked blood from his forehead wound and spoke.
"Amen."