Every Procedure Comes with Side Effects
Clang! In the middle of the training ground, the clear ring of metal clashing echoed out. A dulled blade met a blunted metal staff, sparks flying as they scraped against each other. The weapons locked in a fierce contest of strength—and this time, Amon emerged victorious.
“Ngh.” Kashi staggered back. Logically, a sword clashing against a spear should put the sword at a massive disadvantage, but the result was the exact opposite. Amon's raw power utterly ignored the difference in reach and weight. At this rate, she wasn't getting any real practice.
“Tone it down a bit, please.”
“Sorry. It just comes out instinctively.”
Amon acknowledged her complaint. The goal of this training session was to sharpen Kashi's combat instincts, and overwhelming her with brute force defeated the purpose. As she parried his weakened strikes, Kashi clicked her tongue at his monstrous strength.
“I fought a scavenger with reinforced skeletal implants the other day on a job. How are you this strong!?”
Kashi had undergone genetic enhancement procedures—basic upgrades to strength, agility, and stamina. They were high-end treatments, enough to hold her own against most opponents. But Amon's destructive power dwarfed them.
“I thought it back when we first met, but it doesn't make sense for a vanilla human to outmuscle beastmen or elves.”
The day they first met, Amon had stabbed a dagger into a building wall, using it as a foothold to leap to a third-story window. In other words, he had the grip strength to pierce concrete and the leg power to reach the third floor in two jumps. And the most absurd part? He was completely vanilla—no implants or procedures at all.
There was only one explanation that made any sense.
“You got a dragon in your family tree or something?”
Anything else was impossible. Even in Britain, articles about diluted dragon blood only described power at this level—and that was with a one-in-a-billion gene jackpot. Of course, it still didn't explain all of Amon's abilities, but it was the closest thing to plausible.
Amon just gave a wry smile and stayed silent. He couldn't exactly tell her about his Divine Power.
Sorry, but not quite there yet.
Kashi was a good person, but it was too soon to reveal his secrets. It might even be better if she never knew. Amon brushed off her question—yet again, he couldn't even count how many times he'd done it. Kashi let it slide without gaining any ground, but her mind still buzzed with curiosity about his mystery.
Could it be Mystic Power?
She'd wondered that once. But she dismissed it immediately.
No Mystic Power user would be slumming it here.
Someone with Mystic Power could walk into any megacorp and demand an office—they'd hand it over on a silver platter. No need to scrape by as a merc. Plus, Amon had never shown any of the telltale miracles: curing baldness, walking on water, manipulating blood. His physical prowess was impressive, but calling it a “miracle” felt too mundane by comparison.
So she ruled it out. And there was another reason for her certainty.
Because she's here.
Speak of the devil, a visitor arrived at the training ground. A stunning beauty with white hair and golden eyes stepped in. She wore a modified nun's habit tailored for combat, but the black veil and robes did little to hide her ample breasts and firm hips. Her name was Sonia Perfumrose—the seminary's top apprentice battle nun, the Saintess of Gunpowder, a Mystic Power user, and Amon's lover.
That was why Kashi was so sure Amon couldn't have Mystic Power. Growing up in the same orphanage, and given the rule that only one Mystic Power user existed per region, it was impossible for both to have it.
“A~mon~”
Dressed in her battle nun outfit, Sonia scanned the training ground and lit up the moment she spotted him. She bolted straight toward him, her thigh flashing through the high side slits designed for mobility with every step. Her massive reservoirs of Divine Power bounced as she charged.
Amon set his sword aside and hurriedly wiped his sweat with a towel. But before he could finish, Sonia threw her arms around him.
“Heehee!”
His sweat-soaked shirt dampened her habit.
“You're getting dirty.”
Amon tried to pull her away out of concern, but she clung stubbornly.
“I'll sweat anyway during training. What's the big deal?”
“Yours is your sweat. This is mine.”
“We share a bed and a blanket. What's yours or mine?”
“Sigh.”
He always tried to stop her, but he always gave in the same way. Sonia savored Amon's scent. Strictly speaking, it wasn't pleasant on its own—enough to wrinkle your nose if you didn't know better. But once it mingled with her habit, his natural aroma emerged. Living together and using the same detergent meant adding his sweat to her clothes recreated the scent she loved. Only after soaking her outfit sufficiently did she finally let go.
As she pulled away, Amon eyed her outfit with worry.
“Isn't this a bit too sexy today?”
Even to him, it was provocative. The slits were one thing, but glance up from her thighs and you'd spot the red strings of her underwear tied in a bow. It was a great view—for his eyes only. He didn't want anyone else seeing it.
Seeming to read his mind, Sonia grinned reassuringly.
“Don't worry. I wear pants under at school.”
“And when you come here?”
“Long coat. See?”
Amon let out a relieved sigh before he could stop himself. Sonia's lips curved mischievously.
“Were you jealous?”
She poked his cheek. Amon turned away, ears flushing red. She pressed relentlessly until he changed the subject outright.
“Go sit over there for now. I need to finish with Kashi.”
“Okay!”
Beaming, Sonia stepped back and bowed politely to Kashi on her way to the corner.
“Hello. Thanks for always looking after Amon.”
Sonia didn't view Kashi as a threat. Sure, Kashi was gorgeous enough to turn heads, but Sonia trusted Amon. In a world full of artificial beauties like them, he'd never spared them a glance. Not even during his stint in the red-light district infiltrating Hickzen Group—no affairs at all. Proven fact, unicorn-horn verified.
Besides...
“Take good care of his back.”
Sonia knew better than anyone that Amon needed reliable allies while she studied Divine Magic at seminary—especially after that beastman betrayal. Wary of every female teammate would just get his ashes delivered home someday.
Kashi bashfully returned the polite greeting.
“Leave it to me.”
Satisfied, Sonia retreated to the bench. Amon couldn't tear his eyes from her swaying hips. Kashi watched bitterly.
No way he'd look at me with that girlfriend.
With a beauty like Sonia—kind and perfect—Amon had no reason to notice her. Kashi had shelved her feelings for him early. It wasn't even full-blown affection; she'd known about Sonia before it could grow, keeping it at mere fondness by design. In the distance, Sonia openly sniffed his sweat-drenched towel.
I wonder what Amon really smells like.
Kashi was curious too—Sonia did this every visit. But she'd never smelled it herself. She forced a bitter smile, then gripped her staff to banish the thought.
“Let's go again.”
She focused on his sword, not his face, channeling a hint of frustration into her thrust.
*
Clang! Clang! Amon and Kashi's dazzling melee erupted across the training ground. Before Sonia arrived, they'd drilled specific stances, but the finale was a full spar integrating everything. Amon mixed random techniques from the session; Kashi countered.
Kraaang!
Her staff swung with enough force to snap his blade. But Amon blocked impassively. Sweat beaded on Kashi's forehead. Isolated moves were manageable, but chained together? Hellish. Still, she felt herself improving in real time. Her lips quirked up unconsciously.
Amon's handicap made it a tense deadlock. Even Sonia watched, entranced, from the bench.
Then Amon's sword slipped from his grip. Normally, she'd halt—but not in this drill.
Treat practice like the real thing.
That was the rule. No lethal blows, but no holding back for victory, any situation. Amon's condition—to prevent half-hearted training from false security. It applied both ways.
Now!
Her eyes gleamed. She lunged for his thigh—blunt tip, but it'd sting. Victory seemed certain.
But then—
Thud.
Her thrust sliced empty air. Amon's foot planted atop the staff. The sudden weight yanked her downward. In that instant, he snatched his falling sword midair and swung. The blade whistled, halting beside her neck.
“Fooled ya?”
Amon grinned triumphantly. Kashi laughed in defeat, duped by the feint. Another win for him.
*
With Kashi's spar done, it was Sonia's turn. She eagerly pulled her rifle from its case—a long, elegant black beauty engraved with Colson Atelier on the receiver. Her prize from a shooting tournament long ago. Custom-made solely for her: carbon-fiber alloy barrel, ergonomic grip and stock fitted to her hand, sight calibrated to her face. The specs went on forever.
She gripped the handle and slotted the magazine sideways. It formed a perfect cross.
“Ready.”
Amon nodded, grabbing a training iron sword. They awaited Judge Kashi's signal.
“Go!”
Sonia's finger squeezed the trigger instantly.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Her mana fueled the gunpowder; rubber bullets poured out in a heavy staccato worthy of a machine gun. Large caliber, high rate of fire—anti-recoil design ignoring rifle norms. Yet Sonia handled it with perfect poise, tracking Amon calmly. Her bracelet glowed on each shot, restoring Divine Power. She spent some on Divine Magic, amplifying the barrage.
Boom!
Explosive holy blasts chased him.
“Whoa... Every time, I can't believe it exists.”
Kashi muttered in awe. Probably the only person alive who casually called that a rifle. Sniper mobility, healer sustain, machine-gun firepower, mage explosions—an unreasonable pinnacle. Her Saintess of Gunpowder title was well-earned.
But the real absurdity? Amon dominated her.
He deflected bullets, dodged holy blasts. Using Sky Step, he danced in three dimensions—impossible to pin. Soon, he closed the gap. Ignoring the crossfire of magic and lead, he forced through to melee range.
Sonia slung her rifle, drawing dagger and pistol from her thigh holster. She summoned Divine Power to resist—but objectively, her close-quarters skills lagged Kashi's. Once he closed in, her odds vanished.
“Aww. I had high hopes today.”
Defeated like Kashi, Sonia pouted. Feedback followed—no melee advice, just refining her suppressive fire. Building close-combat as a rear-guard was inefficient anyway. Humans had limits. Amon skipped sniping; Sonia stuck to her role.
Feedback summed up:
“So, magic firepower's plenty—focus less on power, more on off-beat timing?”
“Exactly.”
Amon targeted her unconscious rhythm. Readable patterns let him breach any barrage. Sonia internalized it, plotting adjustments—but not testing today.
“That's it for now.”
Dinnertime. Amon and Sonia packed up. Kashi did the same to leave.
“Heading out first.”
“Great work today~”
Arm in arm, they departed. Kashi finished packing, but paused at a bench item.
A towel?
Sweat-soaked. She glanced around—Amon and Sonia hadn't noticed leaving it. She called him.
“You left your towel.”
He replied he'd return. She picked it up, waiting. The scent tickled her nose. The more she inhaled, the redder her ears grew.
Side effects from the procedure...
Genetic mods always had drawbacks. New allergies, former neutrals turning toxic. For Kashi, certain scents intoxicated her. The problem? Amon's sweat.
Dizziness rose; her cheeks flushed. Rational control slipped. Her nose inched closer—
The door burst open.
“Back for the towel.”
Kashi jolted, yanking her face away. She rolled it up and tossed it over.
“Thanks!”
Amon left again. Alone, she stared at the door, then her hand—
Sniff.
Residual scent. Her face burned hotter. Smiling faintly, she gripped the doorknob with her other hand.
From then on, Kashi stubbornly favored her left hand more than usual that day.