Chapter 371: If It’s Tangled, Just Cut It (9)

The moment Keter first saw Amon, he was certain.

This guy is the same kind as me.

Like Keter, Amon was someone who lived for amusement; he would gladly take losses or even risk his life as long as it was entertaining. If that was the case, he wouldn’t be difficult to deal with.

Boredom is your greatest weakness.

Above all, those who pursued entertainment were extremely competitive. If they lost a match, they would crave a rematch. If they were denied, they would persist until they got one.

I would do the same.

That was why Keter had prepared the infinite loop strategy. It wasn’t meant to force Amon into submission since if he was put in the same position as Amon, he would become even more stubborn.

“Why are you doing this? Tell me what you want.”

At that moment, Amon spoke first. Keter had been waiting for exactly this. If conversation was possible, then so was negotiation.

“Amon. Do you want to play rock-paper-scissors with me forever?”

Amon shook his head immediately. “I’d rather die.”

“Same here. I’ve got plenty to do and plenty I want to do.”

“Then why not win? Take your three wishes and leave.”

“Come on, we both know better. You wouldn’t let me leave.”

“You could simply wish to be released.”

“You think I haven’t dealt with people like you before? You’d find some way to make me come back to you no matter what.”

“...Then make a wish related to that.”

“You weren’t planning to grant every wish anyway. Would you grant a wish to kill yourself? Or assassinate the emperor? Listen, Amon, we don’t need to fight like this.”

Keter extended his hand. Amon stared at it blankly.

“You and I are alike. We like games, wagers, and gambling. However, you’ve been stuck underground too long. Honestly, the way you find entertainment is outdated.”

“Are you saying my arena isn’t entertaining?”

“It’s not that it isn’t, but arenas exist everywhere—they’re common. You’ve added your own rules, sure, but how long do you think that’ll stay fun? When it becomes stale—when it turns into nothing but obligation—what then? Have you thought about what comes next?”

“...Hmm.”

Not having thought of that before, Amon frowned. Keter extended his hand further.

“Rock-paper-scissors was fun, right? There’s plenty more like it. I’ll show you everything. I’ll keep making new games so you’ll never get bored.”

“...Why would you offer me that?”

“It’s not free. It’s a benefit you get for becoming my friend.”

“Fr...iend?”

Even monsters and demigods knew what that meant. However, Amon didn’t think it suited their relationship.

“Heh... hahaha. You want to be friends with me? A mere human, with a near-godly being like myself?”

Amon peered into Keter’s mind, expecting some shallow trick to escape danger, but...

Amon’s interesting and capable. Being friends with him would be fun. Plus, I’d get some help along the way.

Keter’s intent was sincere; he really wanted to befriend Amon. There was no shallow calculation—no intention of using him for help, nor of making him a friend out of fear.

Amon met his gaze.

A being like me befriending a human... Wait, have I ever had a friend before...?

Even looking back hundreds, thousands, and tens of thousands of years, there was no one. There were only enemies, or temporary truces.

“This too is... interesting.”

The idea of becoming friends with a mortal who would live barely a hundred years sparked Amon’s curiosity. He wanted to see their future together.

“So this is how it’s done?” Amon asked, grasping Keter’s outstretched hand.

Keter gripped it tightly.

“That’s not how you shake hands. Don’t grab it like a timid child. You have to put strength into it, as much as your excitement.”

“An amusing custom.”

Crack!

Hiss!

As they tightened their grip, steam rose, and the ground beneath them cracked.

“And you’re not supposed to hold it for more than five seconds.”

“Why not?”

“That means you want to sleep with the other person.”

Keter pulled his hand back, but Amon didn’t let go. A sly grin spread across Amon’s face.

“Don’t even think about it,” Keter warned.

“Keter, you said it yourself that we’re alike. And you don’t give up.”

It was a declaration that Amon was also the same.

Keter clicked his tongue and changed the subject.

“As a friend, I’ve got three requests.”

Keter, having just become friends, immediately began with requests. It was shameless, but Amon found that very shamelessness amusing.

Amon smiled and said, “Go ahead. You won the game anyway.”

“First, stop reading my thoughts.”

“Done.”

“Second, release all the mercenaries in this arena.”

Snap.

“They have just been released.”

“Lastly...”

Keter glanced at Joyray, who was listening. Joyray still hadn’t fully processed how things had suddenly turned into friendship.

“Don’t go easy on him during the battles.”

Amon looked surprised. He had expected Keter to help Joyray escape.

“You dislike this person?” Amon asked.

“If I did, I’d have killed him already.”

“Then why send him into danger? His goal was to rescue the captured mercenaries. You’ve already done that.”

“That was part of it, but he’s not the kind of fool who risks his life just because allies were captured. He wanted to prove something—his strength, his skill. Saving them was just a bonus. Right?”

Keter pulled Joyray closer. Joyray forced an awkward smile.

“Haha... as expected, you’re the only one who understands me, Keter.”

“Heh.”

“Heh heh.”

Amon and Keter laughed along. It was because they didn’t even need to read Joyray’s mind—his expression said everything.

Damn you, Keter.

As they laughed together, the surrounding monsters booed loudly. They had been watching a life-or-death battle, only for the two to suddenly become friends.

“Silence.”

Hundreds of monsters fell silent instantly. All it took was one word for Amon to shut the monsters up. It wasn’t obedience; it was compulsion. A near-godly being’s words alone could enforce reality.

Then, Amon turned to Keter. “I will ask this as your friend: from the fifth round onward, you won four in a row. I could read your thoughts, so I should not have been able to lose, yet you deceived even your own mind. What trick did you use?”

“I didn’t use a trick. Instead...”

Keter pointed at Joyray. Joyray scratched his head awkwardly.

“That would be me.”

“...Ah. Ah! Hahahaha! So that’s it! Hahahaha!”

Amon understood. Keter’s hand had not moved by his own will but by another’s. Joyray, who was standing there like a fair referee, had manipulated Keter’s hand, just like he controlled his knives.

“And he’s also the one who first taught me gambling,” Keter added.

When it came to gambling and deception, Joyray was no less skilled than Keter, and the same held true for psychological warfare. By reading Amon’s mind, Joyray had secured four consecutive wins.

“You’re insane. You entrusted your fate to him?” Amon asked.

“I didn’t entrust it. I trusted myself for trusting him.”

“...Same thing. Now that I know the truth, it seems almost trivial.”

Keter’s earlier rule about no monster interference hadn’t been out of fear. It had been a setup, making it seem like no one could interfere. Amon had never even considered that Joyray was the one manipulating things.

As Amon stood there, replaying everything in his mind, Keter smacked him on the back.

“You might have seventy-two Authorities, but you don’t know how to enjoy life. When you make a new friend, you bring out the drinks you’ve been saving.”

Keter waved him over. Amon, now deeply intrigued, followed without hesitation. Joyray, uneasy about Keter, followed behind them.

* * *

In the corner of the mercenaries’ underground hideout, the trembling mercenaries huddled together, while three people sat at a table.

Trickle...

A bluish-green liquor filled the glass to the brim. Joyray fidgeted, looking like it pained him to even watch it go into the glass.

“Well, it may be a shabby place, but the liquor is top-tier.”

The drink Keter had poured so generously was called Gaia, a five-hundred-year-old liquor with no set price. It had been saved by the first branch manager of Liqueur, reserved for the day he would drink it with the head of the Mercenary Association. Keter had found it and opened it without hesitation.

Staring blankly at the now-empty bottle, Joyray muttered, “Even I held back from drinking this...”

“If you’re not going to drink it, Grandpa...”

Smack!

“Move that hand, Keter.”

Joyray closed his eyes tightly and downed Gaia in one go. Keter smirked and followed suit. Amon lifted his glass, sniffed it first, then drank it down.

“...Oh?”

Though he drank last, Amon reacted first, his eyes widening. This was the moment Amon began his journey of collecting liquor.

“Grrrgh!”

“Ah... I don’t feel like eating anything ever again.”

There were snacks prepared, but no one touched them. There were more drinks lined up, but no one reached for them. None of them wanted to lose the lingering taste of Gaia in their mouths.

Joyray’s face turned red in an instant. Transcendentals didn’t get drunk, as getting drunk was similar to being poisoned. However, Joyray was already reeling after just one glass. That was how potent Gaia was—it could intoxicate even a Transcendental.

“Ah, just one more glass would be nice.”

Keter’s ears had turned slightly red, but he wasn’t drunk. If anything, he simply wanted more.

“I’ve been treated to something truly exceptional.”

Even Amon’s tone softened, clearly pleased. Then suddenly, Keter stood up.

“That’s it! Everyone dismissed!”

“...?”

Joyray and Amon stared at him, dumbfounded. After making such a scene, he was ending it here? Joyray, slightly irritated from the alcohol, soon realized why.

Keter didn’t come here to save the mercenary guild. He has business in the underground of Liqueur.

Then it was right to let him go. After all, Keter had helped him anyway.

Though Joyray still had to finish the arena matches, all the captured mercenaries had been freed. The burden on him had lessened, and the reward for ten consecutive wins could now be an Authority, not the lives of his comrades. Joyray felt more than satisfied—he was grateful.

On the other hand, Amon wasn’t.

“Aren’t you curious who Liyan and Urone are, Keter?”

He wanted to keep talking and playing, so he dangled bait.

It hadn’t come to him at the time, but on the way back after everything was over, it suddenly clicked for Keter. They were someone Keter knew but didn’t know by name. They were also people who could descend to the fourth floor and casually converse with its Ruler. He only knew two people like that: Master Heavenly Strength, and the leader of the Gray Tower known by the alias Franken.

So Master Heavenly Strength is Liyan, and Master Franken’s real name is Urone.

Amon looked disappointed for a moment then grinned again.

“Don’t you want to see them? I know where they are.”

“If it’s fate, I’ll meet them somewhere. I’ve got more important things to do.”

“More important than staying with me?” Amon asked.

“I’m heading down to the eighth floor.”

“Oh... I see... Is this what fate is? Hahaha!”

Bang! Bang!

Amon slammed the table, laughing in delight. After a long fit of laughter, he spoke.

“Keter. We Rulers didn’t come up from the underground just to gain freedom.”

The atmosphere shifted. Amon lightly tapped the center of his glass.

Crack...

Fractures immediately spread across it. It was a miracle it didn’t shatter immediately.

“This is what the underground looks like right now—on the verge of collapse. And this isn’t just about ceilings falling or the ground caving in.”

Amon blew gently. The glass didn’t break, but it turned to dust.

Pointing at the powder, he asked, “Keter. Where do you see an entrance here?”

A glass had an entrance and an exit, but once reduced to dust, it had neither.

“It’s lost the form of an entrance, so it doesn’t exist,” Keter said.

“Exactly. Each floor of the underground is its own independent world. When that world collapses, it traps everything inside. And once trapped...”

Amon paused, wanting to see Keter lose his cool, but he remained calm. So Amon continued, as if testing him.

“Once trapped in a collapsed world, not even a god can escape. Knowing that... will you still step into the underground?”