Chapter 4
Synthetic meat showed up again for dinner, followed by french fries for a late-night snack.
The kids enthusiastically devoured the fries, excited for a rare treat.
“Heeing… I feel like I’m gonna get fat.”
Sonia alternated glances between the french fries and her own belly, contemplating.
To Amon, her words sounded like an endearing complaint.
Growing kids can eat as much as they want.
That was Amon's belief.
Besides, with Sonia's constitution, she didn't need to worry about getting overweight from this much.
Her belly fat tended to gather a little higher…
‘That’s enough.’
Amon reined in his straying thoughts.
He added more fries to Sonia's plate and grabbed a handful for himself.
The potatoes in the french fries were real potatoes.
They might have been genetically modified a bit, but at least within Amon's knowledge, there were no side effects.
Because of that, french fries were one of the few foods in this world he could eat without worry.
“Munch munch.”
Sonia picked up a couple and soon, putting aside her worries about gaining weight, she began to eat them with gusto.
Although it cost almost all the money he earned yesterday and today, Amon felt a sense of accomplishment.
Seeing the kids this happy made the money seem insignificant.
Amon meticulously finished off his snack, emptying the last crumbs into his mouth.
*
Brush, brush.
Snack time was over, and it was time for bed.
Amon brushed his teeth at the sink, reviewing the day.
‘Another shooting near Howard Side. That’s the seventh one this week. Gangs are the same whether it’s 50 years ago or now.’
Although he was living a normal life at the orphanage now, he was well aware of where he had been reincarnated.
And he also knew why he was reincarnated.
To see and enjoy more in a wider world.
And if possible, to become a legend.
Could it be understood as achieving his own true ending, like in a game?
It seemed like a vague goal, but the image was concrete.
He diligently gathered information every day, preparing for the time when he would finally leap into the world.
What time period was this world in, where was he, what was the power structure?
And in the current situation, which area should he dive into? Etc.
The reason he chose the delivery errands with mediocre pay during his outings wasn't just for safety, but also to gather information.
To summarize the information he had gathered so far, he was reincarnated in the United States.
The time setting was 50 years after the ending of *Punk City 3*.
Since *Punk City* series were numbered by time period, technically Amon was experiencing *Punk City 4* in real-time.
This world, 50 years after *3*, had changed more than he expected.
First, the dizzying neon signs were still there.
To be precise, thanks to technological advancements, they weren't neon signs anymore but rather affordable LED screens, but they were essentially the same, so he'd let that slide.
The gloomy city, money prioritized over human rights, the paper-tiger-like law enforcement, they were all the same.
However, the sky was a bit clearer.
This wasn't because corporations suddenly developed a conscience and started using eco-friendly fuels and materials, but because they had discovered a more efficient and less polluting energy source.
The name of this renewable energy was Entity.
Ghost stories, paranormal phenomena, ghosts, cryptids, creatures—there were various expressions to refer to these beings, but the standard term was Entity.
Amon got goosebumps all over his body when he learned this fact.
‘Humans really did it…’
This crazy world had finally started to see even supernatural phenomena as a source of profit.
For example, what if they secured endlessly walking red shoes and an infinitely descending staircase, and combined the two to operate a generator?
Wow! Perpetual motion!
This era, which took such a satanic idea for granted, was the era Amon was born into.
‘The genre is cyberpunk… No, there’s magic and genetic engineering too, so is it fusion punk?’
Amon wondered if it could be considered eco-punk since they were using renewable energy, but immediately dismissed the thought.
After all, if they were exploiting paranormal phenomena and ghost stories to run generators and calling it eco-friendly, it felt a bit…
A bit strange.
Therefore, he concluded that it was a vague fusion punk.
Cyberpunk as the base, with a spoonful of magic, a spoonful of genetic engineering, and a pinch of urban fantasy at the end.
That was this world.
The location of his orphanage was also completely different from the setting of *3*.
This was already within his expectations.
The location changed every time from *1*, *2*, and *3*.
However, even though the location changed, news of the previous protagonists still traveled.
Each series' true ending was so large-scale that it overturned world history, so it was only natural.
The true ending of *3* was also canon in this world.
However, not only the true ending but other endings also appeared here and there.
‘Perhaps it's a mixture of endings that don't contradict the true ending.’
For example, there was an ending that completely changed the nature of gangs.
- The Execution Gun… is real!!! [1]
These were the words shouted by a legendary gangster 50 years ago as he was executed by a corporation in the State of California, broadcast live.
After the execution, gangs who had been staying in the area looking for the treasure began to roam all over the United States.
Their reach expanded so much that <Children of the Snake>, the gang Jimmy recently joined, extended beyond two states and reached the city where Amon lived.
The title of the ending that ushered in the era of the Great Gangs was <The One and Only Treasure>.
Surprisingly, this wasn’t the true ending, but a normal ending.
Other normal or bad endings could be heard here and there as well.
In other words, this world was a composite of several endings.
‘Perhaps each ending of *3* was the life of a different person.’
So Amon searched through newspapers and history books whenever he had the chance, looking for the endings.
Which ending was canon and which was apocryphal?
That was the information Amon was gathering.
Thanks to ten years of information gathering, this part was almost completely organized.
“RRRRRRRR~ Ptoo!”
Having finished defining the worldview and organizing history, Amon spat out the mouthwash and recalled the weapons he possessed.
First, he had no knowledge of the future.
The era he was living in hadn’t been released as a game yet.
However, he had richer knowledge of the past than anyone else.
While people could only live in one timeline at a time, Amon’s head, which had gone through countless playthroughs, contained information from countless parallel worlds.
Not only forgotten knowledge of the past, but even the world's hidden secrets, he knew in the form of settings.
He believed without a doubt that this was his weapon.
However, there were also some regrets.
‘For now, there’s no proficiency like in the game, so it can’t be helped…’
Just in case, he had tried various things to see if he could cheese proficiency like in a game.
He tried running in place to raise his endurance stat, and he tried hitting a dummy with a metal pipe to increase his swordsmanship proficiency.
And the conclusion he reached?
This was reality.
Not a simulation or a game, but true reality.
Proficiency cheesing: impossible.
Status window: impossible.
However, he did gain something in the process of confirming this.
‘The talent system definitely exists.’
He couldn’t see it on a screen like in a game, and he couldn’t allocate stats at birth, but he could definitely tell.
The talent system existed in a way similar to the game.
As Amon left the bathroom and headed to his bedroom, he recalled the settings of the talent stats.
It was a tradition in *Punk City* to distribute talent stats when creating a character.
Talent was an important value that not only affected proficiency correction in specific routes or skill trees, but also influenced the maximum potential.
Of course, even with talent, the initial talent chosen didn't determine the entire game.
If you invested enough time or twisted your body to find opportunities, you could surpass your talent and break through your limits.
However, Amon had no hobby of taking detours when there was an easy path available.
He preferred efficiency.
That was why he had been trying to find his talent for the past ten years.
He created a list with all the talents that appeared in *1* through *3* as candidates and checked them off one by one as he confirmed them.
One thing was certain: he had high Charm.
At least 40% of strangers were kind to him.
‘This alone makes life so much easier.’
One might wonder what use high Charm had, but surprisingly, even in the game, Charm was a stat that needed to be at least at the minimum requirement, if not maxed out.
If Charm was low, all sorts of unfair disadvantages would come flying at you for no good reason.
- You seem suspicious. Let’s pretend our agreement to cooperate never happened.
NPCs you needed to cooperate with would suddenly get upset.
- This is the original price. Go to another store and see how much they charge you. *Ptoo.*
Merchants would try to rip you off at every opportunity.
- Wait. Don’t come any closer. Stay there and don’t follow me.
If your Charm was 0, only 10% of strangers would be polite, and 90% would pull out their weapons and be wary of you just from making eye contact.
If it went negative, there were even events where you would be dragged to the police station for doing nothing. (It had nothing to do with skin color.)
Especially during timed quests, being dragged to the police station could lead to quest failure and a direct path to a bad ending, so Charm had to be at least at the minimum.
However, if you didn't care about the story and wanted to cause mayhem, you could intentionally set your Charm low.
Or conversely, you could set your appearance to be like a monstrous creature and max out your Charm to make the genre a comedy.
‘Ah… I don’t miss you, Mr. X-Ray Specialist.’
If you maxed out the Charm of a grotesque purple monster, people would fall in love with that purple monster one after another.
Watching that on screen was hilarious, so Amon always allocated the maximum Charm to grotesque characters.
Of course, in reality, Charm wouldn’t apply like in a game, and even if it did, he didn’t want to be born as a purple monster.
Anyway, he marked a check next to Charm.
After that, no more check marks were added to Amon's talent list.
He wasn't talented in magic.
Neither eloquence nor incitement, and not really in crafting either.
He crossed those areas off his list.
Hacking was still untestable, so he put it on hold.
What remained were weapons and firearms.
And the day to confirm them was not far off.
Tomorrow.
He planned to check his talent.
‘I should go to sleep early today.’
He stopped thinking and pulled up the blanket.
It wouldn't be good to fall asleep while shooting.
***
A day passed, and the day Amon had been waiting for finally arrived.
Thanksgiving.
Also known as American Chuseok.
A festive day filled with delicious food and fun activities filling the streets!
…There was nothing like that.
If the streets were overflowing with goodwill while he was struggling to make ends meet, it wouldn't be the punk genre.
In cyberpunk, Thanksgiving was a day when citizens opened their wallets a little more cheerfully, and corporations could exploit people a little more under the guise of goodwill.
Still, it wasn’t entirely a hollow day.
There were Black Friday sales and special events prepared for Thanksgiving.
Amon was aiming for this.
What money did the orphanage have to buy guns or swords for the orphans?
This was why Amon hadn't been able to check if he had a talent for guns or swords until now.
But Thanksgiving was a different story.
Guns and swords that you couldn’t even touch without money on normal days could be experienced at least once.
Shooting ranges and dojos would hold competitions with prizes, taking advantage of this day.
Even if there weren’t any competitions, people's wallets tended to get lighter around this time, so they would offer free trials.
Coincidentally, Amon turned 15 this year, and having received permission from the Orphanage Principal to handle guns, the opportunity to finally pull the trigger had arrived.
“Expert Marksman Amon, deploying~”
Amon muttered to himself, leaving the orphanage in high spirits.
“Heheh.”
Sonia followed behind him.
Amon had told her she didn’t need to follow him, but Sonia, saying she wanted to try it out at least once, followed him anyway.
The two passed through the bustling holiday streets, heading to the shooting range.
Bang bang!
Deafening gunshots rang out from the shooting range.
“I’m here to participate in the competition!!”
Amon shouted towards the gun dealer owner amidst the noise.
The owner gestured from behind the bulletproof glass counter, as if he couldn’t hear.
Amon moved closer to the glass and shouted again.
“Competition!! Participate!!!!”
The gun dealer nodded.
He handed Amon a piece of paper with the rules.
Amon had already familiarized himself with the rules of the competition, so he skimmed through it and tucked it into his pocket.
The rules were simple.
Get the highest score within the time limit.
The targets generally moved, and the scoring method differed for each firearm.
Amon rented an old pistol and rifle and stood in the shooting range.
An announcement came over the speaker installed in his booth.
[Get ready. 3, 2, 1. Begin!]
Bang!
He pulled the pistol’s trigger.
With a heavy recoil, his shoulder jolted and his wrist stung.
‘Ouch. That hurts more than I thought.’
Thinking about it, it was only natural.
The targets you had to shoot with guns in this world were heteromorphic races with skin thicker than boar hide, or cyborgs with steel-replaced skin, and so on.
The average caliber and propellant were bound to be different from his previous life.
Even Amon, who prided himself on having relatively strong strength among his peers regardless of race, found it difficult to fully control the recoil.
His hand was numb, but he continued to pull the trigger.
When he was done with the pistol, he switched to the rifle and started shooting.
Burst fire was prohibited, so he calmly pulled the trigger, *thump thump thump*, in single shots.
Perhaps because of the recoil, the bullets kept slightly deviating from the target point.
The final result was 1100 points.
Most of the bullets were in the 10-point zone, some in the 9-point zone, and the one that flew the furthest was in the 7-point zone.
The shooting range manager applauded and congratulated Amon.
“You won’t starve to death anywhere you go.”
Amon agreed.
With this level of talent, he could at least make a living as a mercenary.
As he returned the gun, Amon internally assessed his firearm talent level.
‘Guns are a no-go.’
It wasn’t bad.
But it wouldn’t get him to the top.
Amon's goal was to achieve the true ending.
The people he would encounter were those who had neural accelerators as a basic and shot magic-engineered beams that could penetrate tanks.
To face such people, he needed to hit 10 points with every shot, even while firing bursts from rifles in both hands.
Therefore, Amon’s assessment of his gun talent was ‘mediocre.’
‘Guns are on hold for now.’
He marked a triangle on his talent candidate list.
Having reached a conclusion about guns, Amon waited for Sonia before heading to the next location.
Finally, it was Sonia's turn.
She shouldered the rifle with a serious expression and pulled the trigger.
*Ratatatatatang!*
“???”
An unusual burst fire sound rang out.
The judge was about to disqualify Sonia for using burst mode in a competition that only allowed single shots.
However-.
“This is single shot, though?”
As if to prove her innocence, she fired another burst in single-shot mode.
Her fingers moved so fast they left afterimages.
*Dudduddudu!*
“Huh? Uh…?”
The judge, flustered, asked her.
“Do you have finger implants?”
“No? I haven’t had any procedures.”
The judge was once again taken aback by the fact that she was a pure human.
After much deliberation, he acknowledged her innocence.
Thus, her shooting show resumed.
Sonia shot at the targets with bursts that were actually single shots.
Her aim was incredibly stable.
Stable enough to place a glass of water on the muzzle.
It was as if the recoil had been omitted due to budget constraints in a shooting game.
‘What? Does the recoil get absorbed because she has four cushions?’
All her bullets hit the dead center of the targets.
At some point, everyone in the shooting range was watching her, mesmerized.
Her shooting ended, and the score was revealed.
3500 points.
Amon patted Sonia on the shoulder and said,
“I think your career path is pretty clear.”
[1] One Piece reference for the slow ones in the back.