Clash in the Cybernetic Nest!
In the space where flashes of light flickered relentlessly, two shadows collided too swiftly for the eye to follow. The pair clashed once from one spot, then switched positions and collided again, repeating the brutal dance. At last, the crashing sounds ceased, and one of the shadows went flying.
“Thud!”
Amon tumbled across the training ground. The one who had sent him sprawling asked with concern.
“You alright?”
Amon nodded. “I’m fine, Chief.”
“Any injuries?”
“Not a scratch.”
As he spoke, Amon tried to hide the graze on his arm. But the man called Chief didn’t miss it. He made a huge fuss and hurried over to Amon.
“If I leave this alone, the Director will fire me later!”
Amon gave a wry smile at the Chief’s antics and extended his arm. It wasn’t an entirely impossible scenario. In the past, when the previous security chief had misjudged his strength and cracked Amon’s arm, Kashi had let slip something unforgettable.
— “Tsk... This is worrying. Should I replace you right now?”
Kashi had claimed it was a joke, but even to Amon, it carried a solid 20% seriousness.
The Chief, a hulking 3-meter figure, awkwardly and delicately opened an emergency kit with uncharacteristically gentle hands. He pulled out an expensive regenerator spray and misted it over Amon’s wound. Anyone who once idolized the security chief might sour on him seeing this groveling display, but there was no helping it. This was the man gazed upon with honey-dripping eyes by the heir to the megacorp throne.
Putting on airs in front of him? Forget social climbing— it’d be a death wish. Sure, a security chief had confidence in his personal prowess, but no individual could live carefree after being targeted by a megacorp. It was only natural for the new chief to fawn over Amon like this.
For the same reason, he couldn’t even boss around the water buffalo tanker and mute sniper, who ranked below him. They’d been embarrassed at first, but with the chief’s attitude unchanging, they’d grown indifferent.
Only after Amon’s wound healed did the chief exhale in relief.
“Phew. Oh, right. About that last bout— outstanding work. You’re almost keeping up with my speed now. No flaws in your technique that I could spot.”
In this domain, Amon rivaled the chief. At this level, he could hold his own against him. If the chief slipped even slightly, Amon could plant a blade in his throat.
Of course, in a real fight, the chief would unleash hidden aces and fight harder than in sparring. But by the same logic, Amon would deploy his own gear, so ultimately, he’d become a genuine threat to the chief.
Still, one regret lingered for the chief.
“Your power...”
The chief eyed Amon cautiously, swallowing the urge to suggest implants. He knew Amon had an irrational aversion to them.
The chief couldn’t comprehend it. This wasn’t the Middle Ages— training the body alone was hopelessly inefficient. Every implant had weaknesses, but they could be offset with better ones or complementary procedures. Cybernetic vulnerabilities to EMPs? Compensated with magic engravings. Gene therapy allergies? Suppressed with inhibitor devices. Magic engravings draining mana and lacking sustainability? Fixed with mana capsules.
The chief himself was a walking testament, his body fully replaced with implants. Amon’s ways were baffling.
But he had to respect them. ‘If that’s what he wants, who am I to argue?’ The future husband of the chairman-to-be— perhaps some family-specific reason.
Shaking off the thought, the chief continued. “Build your strength gradually. Want some training regimen suggestions?”
“Please.”
*
After the spar with the chief and a quick shower, Amon headed to Kashi. She greeted him the moment he arrived, as if she’d been waiting.
Her breasts swayed enticingly within the low-cut dress. Not quite Sonia’s caliber, but Kashi was devastating in her own right. Yet her true weapon lay elsewhere: the panty strap peeking through the side-slit dress.
Amon averted his gaze to her face, meeting her eyes with an inexplicable pang of guilt.
“You’re here.”
Kashi flashed a seductive smile. She poured him a cup of water. As she set it down, her cleavage flashed briefly into view.
‘White!’
What exactly was white remained a secret out of respect for Kashi’s dignity.
She prepared her own tea and sat across from him. Crossing her legs mashed her famously thick thighs together. A careless shift might reveal not just the strap but the whole garment, yet Kashi remained utterly composed.
While Amon quenched his thirst with water, Kashi savored her black tea’s aroma, lips parting slightly. Her words flowed into casual daily chatter, as always.
Their routine: morning training, then mornings with Kashi, lunch, and parting ways. But today diverged slightly.
After lunch, as Amon turned to leave, she stopped him.
“Swing by the office later today.”
He agreed readily. Back in her office post-meal, Kashi retrieved an envelope from her drawer. She hadn’t tipped him off earlier, leaving Amon surprised.
She handed it over with an explanation. “Didn’t seem right to drop this on you right after training. They say a full belly makes a man generous— it’s even a corporate strategy.”
Amon chuckled wryly. Strangely, he didn’t feel played. He trusted her that much.
He opened the envelope to scan the documents, signaling his readiness to listen.
“Remember that dungeon you cleared? White Dawn.”
Amon recalled the megacorp he’d first wiped out. He couldn’t even remember the name now. ‘Hyzen? Hyzenberg?’ Only that it’d been absorbed by the 3-dollar group. Trivial, so he brushed it aside and focused on Kashi.
She pressed on. “White Dawn keeps spawning monsters even after its boss— some unidentified someone— was supposedly defeated. At least publicly.”
“Yeah.”
Dungeons reacted differently post-boss kill depending on their origin. Amon’s party had obliterated Saddark Dungeon completely; the lich ascended, and the lurking Shawnrai got absorbed by Kashi’s company, halting undead respawns. Mercs were now flocking there like it was the last train, but irrelevant.
What mattered was Kashi suddenly confirming it.
And then, as Amon anticipated, the words spilled from her lips.
“The White Dawn boss has resurrected.”
Amon’s fist clenched. Seeing it, Kashi grasped his hand.
“Calm down. It revived, but not like you described.”
“?”
“Not female— male. It could talk, but nothing like the noble human you told me about. More like a deranged old man?”
Only then did Amon’s tension ease. Demons lacked rigid gender, but they typically appeared as young women to impersonate goddesses or saints. They could shift forms, but prided themselves on their true appearance and rarely did.
Conclusion: She hadn’t returned.
Gauging Amon’s state, Kashi got to the point.
“Here’s the ask: investigate that boss. Ideally, snag some exclusive intel only you’d recognize.”
Per Kashi, as a dungeon born from a failed divine power experiment, they wanted to probe its interactions with divine power. Sure, Recetio Corporation could snag a divine power user, but trust was the issue— betrayal rates hovered at 2-3%. Why send them when Amon knew the place inside-out and was zero-risk?
“What do you say? Up for it?”
“Of course. Handle the pay as you see fit.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
Amon signed without reading the details. He trusted her.
Kashi reciprocated, sealing the contract back in the envelope.
“I’ll handle the paperwork.”
“Thanks. Oh, urgent? Sonia’s school ends this afternoon— was gonna head there together.”
“Take your time.”
“Appreciate it.”
They chatted idly afterward. As departure time neared, Amon shook her hand.
“Keep the requests coming.”
He’d turned down the security chief gig for his free spirit, but requests were different. No leash involved, so endless commissions were fine. Better than faceless clients, anyway— top killer of mercs was betrayal by clients or brokers. Far safer with trusted Kashi.
“I prefer mercs like you— reassuring.”
For Kashi and the company, it was ideal too. Combat prowess rivaling the chief, sharp situational judgment, ironclad trust. More reliable than in-house external intel staff, honestly. Costly, but worth every credit.
To Recetio, Amon was that merc. Plus, their perks extended further.
Amon joked during the handshake. “If shit hits the fan, just cut me loose.”
Unlike employees, mercs were easy to disavow. If things went south, deny knowledge and wash hands of it. No wonder corps sponsored mercs despite private armies.
But Kashi didn’t take it as a joke. Her face hardened, utterly serious.
“I won’t. Ever.”
“Just kidding.”
“I don’t even joke about that.”
Her earnest reply drew a chuckle from Amon as he patted her shoulder.
“Thanks, Kashi. You’re the real deal.”
“I’m the grateful one.”
Her expression softened then. Amon bid farewell and left the office.
Only after he’d passed through the lobby and vanished from the premises did Kashi wipe the smile from her face. She changed out of her dress— or rather, adjusted it. Cinching her chest, fixing the side slit. Adding a vest and accessories transformed the seductive gown into a sharp suit. She tied her necktie and picked up the phone.
“Let’s start that postponed meeting now.”