50. Howling Darkness – Amon's Endless Roll
While Amon was still rolling around deep in the Saddark Dungeon, exactly one month after the cleaners' clash.
In the corporate plaza of California state, where skyscrapers from countless megacorps formed a forest, peace reigned as always. Sure, countless people died in the unlit alleys, and unspeakable horrors unfit for humans unfolded inside the buildings—but at least the brightly lit plaza remained serene.
In this jungle where even those called predators by some could die at any moment, the corporate suits survived today without the equality of death. And, as usual—
Bang!
A middle-aged man with a name badge reading Section Chief Grayson took a bullet to the forehead, meeting a hollow end.
"Clear the body."
At the young man's order—the shooter—two hulking bruisers with six eyes each dragged the section chief's corpse out of the office.
The man gripped the nameplate on his desk as if to crush it. The plate reading Vice President - Shaunlai Daito crumbled in his fist.
He pressed the temple of his throbbing forehead with a ballpoint pen clicker, suppressing his rage. Only after calming somewhat did he pick up the phone.
"Congratulations. You're the section chief now."
The newly promoted deputy—now section chief—couldn't muster a smile. Fail to deliver the VP's results within a month, and it'd be "honorable retirement." The previous two chiefs had already retired that way, and now it was his turn.
Sweat—or something like cold water—soaked the chrome plating on the section chief's back. Unaware or uncaring of his plight, the VP spat into the phone with a cold voice.
"Your predecessor-before-last only reported the cleaners sent to the Saddark Dungeon missing a full day later. By the time the investigation started, all evidence was gone."
[...]
"Must've been tired from overtime. So we let him retire for some rest. Real optimist, that one."
[...]
"Your direct predecessor was at least competent. Cross-checked dungeon access logs with hospital records right away and even figured out a megacorp was behind it. But no results since then. What do you think about that?"
[Negligence on duty.]
"Negligence... negligence. Yeah, negligence isn't tolerated in our company. Right?"
[Yes, sir.]
"Hope you're diligent."
[I will be.]
The VP hung up. The now-section-chief Kaiku swept a hand over his troubled face. No clue where to even start.
No CCTV in the dungeon, signals cut out past the mid-layers. With people and explosive rounds flying around, traces wouldn't stick anyway. Hospital records? Cleaners might not have gone if uninjured. This was America—plenty skipped hospitals for folk remedies even with limbs hacked off.
Sightings of explorers who'd gone in? With how many got hurt or died in there daily, sifting witness accounts was a joke. No wonder corps loved dungeons for wetwork.
His predecessor had at least guessed a corp was behind it when evidence ran dry—but no payoff. A month later, that chief took honorable retirement, and Kaiku got promoted.
Kaiku yanked at his hair. One month left on his lifespan. Had to brainstorm something doable.
'Fucking Daito prick!'
Half-sobbing, the section chief rummaged meaningless manuals—same as his predecessors, but nothing else came to mind.
But every past chief, including this one, missed something: a corp was behind it, but they hadn't scrubbed evidence hard. Amon got hurt in the dungeon, treated via Vatican on 3Dollar Group's dime—no cross-match possible.
Hospital nets only logged a Vatican holy knight identity unknown for treatment. No one dreamed of matching to Amon. Neither Vatican nor 3Dollar actively erased traces—no artificial gaps.
Lucky for Amon, unlucky for Shaunlai—they hadn't even clocked his party's traces.
Still, the chief narrowed suspects.
'Party's concealing too perfectly. Like trained soldiers. High chance of corp sponsorship.'
Wrong track, of course. And ten such parties was the problem—but doable.
'Fuck it. Kidnap and torture 'em?'
One month left. No time for subtlety. Might get counter-killed, but dead either way.
In the end, he picked the dumb but surefire way.
*
One month and three weeks post-cleaners' vanishing.
The chief kidnapped and tortured any suspicious party, including ex-military ones. Finally nailed a party that clashed with the cleaners.
"Pwease... spare me..."
The toothless youth begged, snot and tears smeared. Blonde hair, dark skin—explorer.
Chief checked his rank: Gold. Rank gauged trust, not skill—but gold trust meant baseline competence.
Brainwave scan.
"Ran into the cleaners?"
"Yesh..."
"Killed them?"
"Yesh... but we don'th know nuffin'!"
"Quiet. Doesn't matter."
Brainwaves rang true. All alibis checked—this tanned merc blonde fought cleaners off.
What he saw didn't matter. He'd nearly touched Shaunlai's reverse scale—and paid for it.
"Dispose."
—
"Pweaseee!!!"
Chief wiped blood from hands, reported success. VP read it, praised his efforts.
"Well done, Section Chief Kaiku."
Only then did the chief exhale in relief. Like the bomb necklace around his neck finally dropped.
Young age too—maybe this case was fortune, not curse. No doubt.
'I seized the chance.'
No pity for dead predecessor chiefs, deployed grunts, or innocent tortured explorers. Just stepping stones to promotion.
'Section chief now—manager, no, deputy next. Not a pipe dream.'
Plenty time left. Talented, he figured. Anti-aging treatments, hit deputy by midlife? Realistic.
Chief leaned back satisfied.
*
One week later. Two months post-cleaners.
[Intruders in Dungeon Bunker!]
The report flipped the chief's world. Dragged out by six-eyed bodyguard hands, he met the VP's cold stare as the VP snapped his nameplate in half.
His trembling hand betrayed passion, but voice stayed ice.
"Send security team. All of them."
The six-eyed duo nodded silently, exited.
Alone, the VP room.
"Aaaargh!!!"
Crack! Desk split in two.
Tearing up, he pulled a red pill from his pocket. Labeled Handle with Care. Red pill meant honorable retirement.
Shaking, he stared. "Not yet... how'd I climb this far..."
From wreckage, he clutched his portfolio that got him here: Top Secret - Dungeon Core Project.
Hugging it, half-sobbing: "No... not yet... Father-in-law... just one chance..."
Too human for a plaza terror—his security chief monitor tsked, shut screen.
***
As Shaunlai security rushed to the dungeon, Amon's party chilled in the lich's room.
"Gaaahhh!"
"Told you. One body, one finger."
"Uh... Amon. Lich already has no fingers?"
"Then cauterize the stumps."
"Kiiiiaaak!!!"
Ignoring the androgynous mage's pleas, Amon meticulously seared the lich's stumps. Lich's screams his BGM, he kept at it.
The mute sniper watching sent telepathy to Amon.
We've got all the info already. Isn't it time to stop? Shaunlai security's coming soon—we gotta bail.
"Too late to run. They know we exist now. Better ambush while they think we're unknowns."
Exit dungeon, party's info updates—foes get basics. Stay, security assumes 'unknown explorer party.'
"Plus terrain and defender advantages."
Security knew dungeon data, but 3D maps ≠ boots on ground. Defenders prep traps too.
"See? Vox is already planting mines nearby."
Security'd neutralize most, but traps fray nerves just existing.
Amon quit torturing the lich, prepped for incoming security. Head-on sucky—firepower, tanking outmatched.
Fast Amon and Kashi lured around dungeon; rest bunkered down.
"They'll make it back alive?"
Kashi muttered, luring. Amon silently took her hand. Cold glove feel oddly reassuring.
Footsteps neared. Shaunlai security emerged, rifles sweeping lowest level.
They overlooked Amon and Kashi hiding in undead corpse piles, pushed past.
Silent till first team passed. Second, third too. No more after third.
Yet no pursuit. Endless time later—
Thud!
Vibration from below. Late stragglers joined the three teams. Then Amon and Kashi emerged, descending—as crude hammers.
*
Security hit bunker. Seeing ripped door, tensed, entered.
Only limbless lich inside.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Gagged lich tried speaking. Alpha lead tasked a grunt to check, focused room sweep.
Grunt ungagged casually.
Lich's first words: "It's a trap!"
Attention snapped to lich—that instant fatal.
Boom!
Claymore at bunker core detonated. Alpha team wiped instantly.
Corner optical camo shield dropped—Amon's party emerged.
> Enemy count: 6
"All corridor traps neutralized."
[Tch.]
No time to gripe. Beastman tank barricaded entrance; heavy gunner and mage hosed corridor with bullets and bombs.
Straight hall perfect for holdout. Rushers dropped by mute sniper's one-shots.
Bunker crew aced anvil role. But early days only.
Elite explorers, sure—but no match for corp-backed security.
Party's outlook darkened over time.
"Damn. Where's hammer team?"
Andro mage ditched decorum, cursed. Thirty minutes in. No rear hammer, no way foes pressed this hard.
"Wiped out?"
Water buffalo tank gloomied.
Maybe ditched us and bailed.
"..."
Loyal ogre went mum—snipers' agreement.
Bunker four faces darkened. Couldn't deny.
Hammer ideal, but no reason they'd stick without gear. Techs found en route with anvil? Nah, Amon held 'em.
Anvil wipe, Shaunlai closes case; Amon and Kashi launder IDs, live easy.
Pessimism spread like plague, snowballing.
Shoulda joined hammer and bailed too.
Mindshake shook bodies. Lax sniper exposed shoulder.
"Kgh!"
No sniper, tank burdened more; gap in barricade, mage critically hit.
"Ugh! Ignore me..."
Mage clutched gut—ogre fire net gapped, enemy sniper took his eye.
"Can't see! Someone direct me!"
Tank held entrance, blind ogre sprayed corridor—but ammo finite.
As anvil braced for wipe—
"Cease fire!"
Buffalo beastman yelled.
Blind ogre, sheltered mage and sniper clueless why.
But soon clear: post-yell, enemy fire stopped.
Instead, hall end: screams, roars, gunfire, sporadic—
Ameeeen!!!
Familiar chant.
Sounds died. Anvil peeked out.
Familiar faces at hall end.
Buffalo grinned gum-to-gum.
"You're late!"
Battered Kashi beside, left shoulder drooping Amon rasped.
"Sneaking without detection ain't easy."
Got spotted last. Mutter done, Amon crumpled toward Kashi.
Party, stabbed by the sight, dragged hurts to support him.