47. Gimmick Floors of Howling Darkness

One with a clear goal in their stride could harbor no hesitation. True to those words, Amon's party explored without a shred of doubt. Unconditional, rapid conquest. They couldn't afford to proceed cautiously now, prioritizing safety step by step—who knew when the megacorp might strike from behind?

But that didn't mean they'd abandoned their strength: prudence. Be prudent, but swift. Safe, yet bold. It simply meant they no longer hesitated to act a bit faster and more aggressively within sufficient grounds for caution. They descended steadily, about one floor every two days—a pace only a mid-tier party with solid confidence in their skills could manage. Ordinary parties took a day off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after two days in the dungeon, effectively dropping two floors per week.

In that context, today was the party's rest day. Even so, party leader Amon stayed busy. On rest days, resupplying—especially stockpiling the most crucial food—was his role.

In the butcher section of the 3 Dollar Mart near the dungeon, Amon inspected the meat and spoke up.

"Kashi, that ham we had last time—was it okay?"

He asked Kashi, who was pushing the cart beside him.

Her response was negative.

"It was fucking awful. And it was expensive too."

"Honestly, it sucked for me too. Then let's go with the one from the time before that."

"Sounds good."

The 3D printer on the opposite side of the kiosk began printing out 350g portions of ham.

Hickzen Group's got some real tech, Amon thought. Ultra-high-speed 3D printing. That alone could crush traditional butchers and most retailers. No labor costs, low maintenance, and it ran 24/7. No wonder ordinary distributors couldn't compete.

But now it's 3 Dollar's tech. They'd stolen Hickzen's technology, and the 3 Dollar Group had rebranded all of Hickzen's major marts into 3 Dollar Marts. A butcher franchise had skyrocketed into a major distributor overnight. Afterward, 3 Dollar installed meat-printing 3D printers in every store—the very machine now making Amon's ham.

For an extra fee, it would print custom shapes with upbeat music blaring, but only kids really used that feature.

As printing progressed, a suited doll atop the printer struck a stern pose, holding up three fingers.

Amon chuckled and tapped his phone to send 54 dollars.

The robot offered a handshake. Amon lightly slapped its hand and tossed the ham into the cart.

He normally ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠carried a 3 Dollar Group executive card in his pocket, but since he was with Kashi today, he'd paid via transfer instead. Was it really necessary to hide it? In this world, views on corporate types weren't kind. Corporate folks were synonymous with corrupt nobles. Megacorps abused civilians so often that just revealing ties to one could torch your social circle.

No wonder corporates stuck with corporates, and non-corpos with non-corpos. And Amon's party was currently being hunted by one such megacorp. Pulling out an exec card now? His party members might cut ties on the spot, and it wouldn't be surprising.

"Alright, let's go."

Amon shook off stray thoughts and patted Kashi's back. She pushed the cart forward. It was piled high not just with food, but ammo too. True to form, the everything-must-be-sold 3 Dollar Group stocked everything they needed.

Having bought all supplies for the next delve, they boxed them up and loaded Kashi's car.

"Thanks every time. Without you, I'd have no clue how to haul this all."

"Don't mention it. Hop in."

Kashi took the wheel. Before climbing into the passenger seat, Amon brushed mud from his shoe soles.

Soon, Kashi's car pulled away.

Amon muttered inside.

"When the hell am I getting a car like this..."

"What, broke?"

"Yeah. Spent it all on gear and essences."

Strictly speaking, some gear was swiped from Hickzen, and essences went to past party medical bills, but expenditures were high regardless.

Kashi snickered at his words.

"Don't push yourself—just borrow one. I can even lend you keys if needed."

"Can't do that forever. How'd you even buy this? Parents?"

"Dad got it for me. With the alimony from when Mom got sucked into that cult and they divorced."

"Uh... yeah..."

Confucian boy Amon was at a loss. Even non-Confucians would struggle to respond. But Kashi, the one who'd said it, seemed unfazed. The past was just the past to her.

"Still, lucky. She divorced before dumping the alimony into the church too."

"S-sorry."

"Nah, no need to hide your cross necklace. Meeting you and that priest showed me he's the weirdo. I thought all religious folks were nuts, but you changed that."

"Feel free to trash that priest all you want."

"Already am."

Kashi turned the wheel. The car headed toward Amon's place. Traffic thickened the closer they got, cars at a standstill.

Bored in the gridlock—everyday for this city—Kashi spoke up again.

"But don't you proselytize?"

"'Proselytize' sounds so grandiose. I do it, yeah. Why?"

"Just never seen you urging others."

Her words reminded Amon of Paul's party. After Amon once killed and revived them, they'd truly come to believe in the Goddess. He'd seen them at church again this weekend, so he bounced the question back.

"What do you think 'urging' looks like?"

"Saint heaven, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠infidels hell, that kinda thing."

"I do that, but not how you think."

"Yeah, can't picture you preaching that. So how?"

"Heaven isn't something you force. You become the other person's heaven and approach them."

"That sounds pretty cool."

"Crafted that line over years."

Kashi giggled at Amon's deadpan delivery as she drove. Soon, they reached his place.

"Leave the stuff in the car. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

Amon got out of the passenger seat. Watching his back recede, Kashi muttered.

"Heaven, huh..."

Then she smirked and drove off—toward the busier downtown.

The next day, fully resupplied, Amon's party headed to the dungeon as usual. After a few fights and a mid-break, they assessed their position. Amon asked party brain and androgynous utility mage Hen.

"Where'd we get to last time?"

"Mid-layers. Up to the elite ghoul floor."

"How many floors to our record, by our count?"

"About ten. Even that party hasn't sighted the lich yet."

"So this mid-layer might actually be upper for us."

"Pretty much."

Hen didn't deny it. The party that first spotted the lich failed to repel it, so it burrowed deeper. No one had seen it since, leading some to claim the boss-lich info was fake. But Amon's party was convinced. By their intel, it was definitely a lich.

"That first sighting party might've been megacorp plants."

"Zero chance? No."

Dungeons needed a boss for special laws to apply. Amon and the utility mage kept vetting scenarios.

While the two brains racked theirs, the rest checked status in their ways.

The mute sniper signed along with telepathy. Pointless with telepathy, but habit. Party members had picked up a bit of sign language thanks to it.

The water buffalo tank responded.

"What about it?"

"You're the only one using a gun here."

Sheepish at the tank's point, the sniper shared her battle hunch.

"We're deeper now, so tougher foes."

The tank's eyes narrowed at her words. An ordinary party might brush it off, but this prudence-packed group didn't.

"Leader. Pardon the interruption. Got something to say."

The tank excused himself to the debating utility mage and Amon, joining in.

Amon looked up from jotting scenarios.

"What's up?"

"That last ghoul. Bens says bullets barely stuck. Could be imagination, but it seemed designed to wreck her weapon."

Amon and the mage's faces darkened. Silence fell over the three.

Amon sent the tank back to the others, conferred briefly with the mage, tore a paper scrap, wrote something, then rallied the party.

"What's going on?"

Kashi sensed the heavy mood.

Amon and the mage, faces grim, relayed the sniper's report first. Then their hypothesis.

"The boss might have gimmick floors targeting specific gear per layer."

That spiked the dungeon's difficulty exponentially. Fill one floor with gun-shredding ghouls, the next with sword-melters—by the floor after, few would have proper weapons left.

The mage added to Amon's guess.

"Could even have floors neutralizing positions. No—likely does."

If she were the lich, that's how she'd set it up, she said. Party faces soured. Undeniable.

"Explains why no one's cleared this yet..."

"Past parties didn't share intel. Stuck on specific floors, they wouldn't know. Or knew and didn't tell. Vox bets the latter."

Kashi tsked. Bad news. Needing a quick clear, they hated this drag-out structure.

So Amon proposed to the party.

"Let's break the rules once—just peek at the next floor."

Break the one-floor-per-day rule for safety and caution. But bigger things needed checking.

"If those monsters are down there, better prep fast."

One fight on the next floor, then retreat. Rushing without adapting here was reckless. But no one scolded him for bending rules. If the hunch held, checking now was wiser—especially with margin for error.

Eyeing each other, Kashi spoke for all.

"Fine. Let's check."

"Thanks. Gear up tight and prep to bail instantly."

Soon, the party descended.

What appeared on the next floor...

"Watch out, Torso! Those slimes discharge cyberware on contact!"

Slimes specialized to neutralize the tank's implants, obvious to anyone.

Luckily, un-augmented Amon and Kashi wiped them fast. But no victory cheer amid the encircling horde.

"Retreat now."

At Amon's word, they bolted surfaceward. They emerged safe. No real scouting, sun still high.

But Amon's party didn't regret skipping today's delve. Life trumped coin.

Amon addressed them.

"Good work today. Tomorrow, no dungeon—strategy meeting."

No objections. With a promise to meet at Amon's training ground next day, the party disbanded.