Ch.300Work Record No. 042 – Beast Wearing the Skin of God (4)

“Where are you, El Sueño? I’m moving with the guys who decided to join us, but there are some following us while keeping their distance near the horizon. I think it would be better to deal with them preemptively and cut them off at the root. What do you think?”

La Roca’s voice comes through along with video footage from the camera attached to her helmet. An armored van was racing toward them. Judging by its speed, it must be a modified vehicle.

The holy war was gradually approaching its operational limit. Currently, the only stronghold of the El Sueño cult was the Dreamers’ hideout, and the time needed to bring in newly recruited members was only getting longer.

And when things take too long, problems like this tend to arise. They needed to establish an intermediate base. Fortunately, there was a pre-selected candidate. There was a black market nearby protected by Los Payasos.

While Los Payasos did provide protection as expected from an armed group that had survived in this wasteland, they occasionally had the problem of kidnapping the smugglers or customers they were supposed to protect to use as materials for their “artwork.”

These are all such simple problems. All one has to do is not do what shouldn’t be done. Obviously, civilians shouldn’t be kidnapped and killed. Obviously, ideals should represent the interests of all members. Obviously…

Obviously, such problems shouldn’t be solved through iron-fisted dictatorship and fanaticism. There’s nothing that shines brightly in this wasteland. Even I was just one of the people adding a faded color to this wasteland.

Yes, I, El Sueño, and the El Sueño cult are all the worst. Words like “lesser evil” or “necessary evil” are things I’ll only hear after I’ve disappeared from the Mojave Desert. Now is the time to work toward that disappearance.

“Cutting them off at the root would be right. But don’t expect my help. I am beyond the wasteland, so I am not always with you.”

“Ha! Stop lying. When things get dangerous, you’ll pop up right in front of us, won’t you? And since you like independent kids… I should handle this small job myself, right?”

I really was in a position where I couldn’t provide support, but La Roca seemed to take even that as a test. This from the same La Roca who had insisted I wasn’t a god but merely an agent of a mega-corporation.

She who had only been speaking through communications until now began to speak with her mouth. She shouted to the other missionaries in the vehicle with a confident voice full of faith.

“El Sueño is watching over us! He seems to be treating us like children left by the water’s edge, but let’s show him that we’ve at least taken our first steps. What do we know about the enemies?”

“They seem to be mercenaries? Judging by the size of the armored van, eight at most, and among them, the combat personnel would be similar in number to us. We can take them on. Why isn’t the Las Vegas Strip using gang hunters?”

The reason was simple. The gang hunters from the personnel department, separate from the security department, had been hunted down one by one by El Sueño. At the very least, I had given them a small reason for it.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re not wearing enhancement suits, it’s good news for us. Let’s go, make El Sueño happy!”

As soon as La Roca shouted those words like a battle cry, the van carrying the converts left skid marks as it turned. La Roca and her soldiers disembarked, taking advantage of the dust storm they kicked up in the wasteland.

Their reaction is definitely quick. It’s because they have no burden on their minds. All they need to think about is winning the fight right in front of them and showing me the results, so they’re fully focused on the current situation.

They’re not just blindly charging out of the dust cloud. In the shared view, La Roca was naturally pulling out a grenade launcher.

For her, disabling the van is the priority. If the mercenaries’ van is gone, La Roca can choose whether to flee or fight.

A heavy thud sound rings out once, and the grenade bounces exactly three times before exploding under the mercenaries’ van that had been following La Roca and the holy army. Having La Roca by my side seems to be helpful after all.

As the mercenaries barely escape from the overturned van, the holy army approaches them. I speak to the holy army, who are lining up as if to execute the mercenaries who have raised their hands in surrender.

First, I need to assess the situation. I need to know which faction hired them to devise a better strategy. If they were hired by the personnel department, which has already been under considerable pressure, things would be easier.

“Do not kill them. The Las Vegas Strip is being punished not for following money, but for following decadence, isn’t that so? Find out who sent them.”

“Our god is really too soft. Fine. Who sent you?”

They didn’t discard the word of their god just to kill prisoners. Surprised by the unexpected question, one of the mercenaries tries to speak in awkward Mexican Spanish but switches to English at La Roca’s command.

“You know we’re people who sell trust, god of the wasteland.”

It seems the rumors have spread further. I run gently down the hill, over the last ridge near where they are. I land among them carefully, making sure not to make a sound. There wasn’t even time to catch my breath.

It’s fortunate I was nearby. From now on, I should attach external communication devices to the clothes of commanders like La Roca or El Pastor. That way, I can appear to speak from anywhere, like a god should.

I reveal myself from the hand that was stroking and resting on La Roca’s head. I looked down at them with a flash of light emanating from the center of my face. I remove my half-broken helmet to face the young mercenary company boss.

I let him go as I see him trying not to squint at the flash. Fear was rippling in his eyes. The unique fear of people who have reached a dead end. The Strip’s treatment of mercenaries couldn’t have been good.

Even Himena was swayed by my words about the Strip’s regulations, so they certainly wouldn’t be kind to outsiders like them. I gently pat his shoulder. I make a move that only a god could make.

“La Roca, what did they say?”

“Well, they said they’re people who live by trust too. That’s how all mercenaries are, right?”

“Then they are worth saving. The Strip dies because it betrayed. It dies because it betrayed the name of the city of pleasure and left only decadence and hedonism. These people, on the other hand, were truthful even at gunpoint.”

If the regulations were that strict, they wouldn’t let those who met the holy army and returned alive stay alive. And in such a situation, they would make the same choice that the cult leader’s Eve, once named Tasha, had made.

La Roca approached me as if slightly dissatisfied. While faith in me now held a large share in her judgment, it didn’t completely dominate it.

“Are we supposed to wait until they attack us again? Isn’t it enough to show mercy only to those who don’t point guns at us, El Sueño?”

“Then we will kill them at that time. Right now, they have done you no harm, have they? Whether that was their will or not.”

“Sigh, if you’re going to show mercy, there’s nothing I can do. Fine, humans make mistakes… and gods forgive.”

La Roca had no choice but to lower her gun. As she naturally climbed back into the van she had disembarked from, the mercenary company boss hurriedly got up and approached me. He tries to grab me as I’m fading away.

I step back just out of his reach before revealing myself again. Looking at him clutching his wound where blood was seeping out, I spoke quite naturally. I speak like a god who bestows mercy to the very end.

“Do you need first aid tools, truthful child? If so, I shall give them to my rock.”

“What? No, if we search through the wreckage of the van, we should find that much. More importantly… are you really showing mercy? Why?”

“Because showing mercy is enjoyable. It’s enjoyable to mock the order of this wasteland where everything ends in death, and to prove that encounters can lead to life.”

This is 100% sincere. Clearly, even the El Sueño cult was the worst, but the sensation that something so terrible was making this wasteland a little better bit by bit was incredibly refreshing and enjoyable.

After pondering for a moment, he pointed to the van La Roca had boarded. He decides to take a gamble with his and his employees’ lives.

“If I go back to my employer from here, I’m as good as dead anyway. If we say we want to get on that van now, would that be… the betrayal that the El Sueño cult punishes?”

“How could pursuing life be betrayal? You did not privately betray trust, nor did you willingly sacrifice your life for trust that would lead to death. The cult welcomes wise and reliable workers.”

For him, believing these words was a gamble. Imagine escaping a corrupt employer only to end up under a fanatical cult. Fortunately, though they didn’t know it, El Sueño was a better option than what they had.

“Then, I’ll make a deal. I’ll join with the converts… and if you give me work, I’ll do it, but please treat my employees. Can things really be resolved like this?”

“Outside this wasteland, it’s natural for things to be resolved with just that, so why shouldn’t what happens in heaven also happen on earth? Get in, let’s go.”

It was indeed a move only a god could make. If this isn’t saving someone who was going to die, what is? Perhaps this too was part of El Sueño’s power.

After La Roca’s van passes by, I completely hide myself with optical camouflage and start running. The refreshing feeling of the wind against me is blocked by the enhancement suit as I cross the wasteland, and I hear Chance’s voice.

“I believe there is a problem that needs to be addressed, Agent Arthur Murphy.”

‘I agree. The research facility where we’re staying is too far to run to. We need to create a forward base. Somewhere that can serve as logistics. Is that what you were going to say, Chance?’

“That’s right. We seem to be approaching the culmination point. We could also explore nationalist strongholds in the surrounding wasteland.”

‘No, no. We shouldn’t just stumble upon them by chance; we need to seize them. I’ve already shown the believers El Sueño’s power, but the converts have only seen me showing mercy.’

Chance made another small operational sound. This was something Chance couldn’t understand. While Chance did possess some emotions, all of those emotions were used to hate and prevent extinction wars.

“I don’t quite understand. But still… it reminds me of those politicians from the war era. The way you make people ecstatic with power and grace truly resembles them. Of course…”

‘You don’t need to defend me. That’s exactly what I’m doing right now. But after I finish this job and disappear from this wasteland… yeah, maybe then we can say I was a little better than the gods of the extinction war?’

“I affirm that. Instead of being consumed by delusions, unable to let go when you should and pulling the trigger with the gun in your mouth… knowing to let go of everything that isn’t yours and start again makes you much better.”

The gods of the extinction war era didn’t take their lives because they regretted the war. They simply escaped through the barrel of a gun when situations could no longer flow as they wished.

After running for quite some time, I enter the Dreamers’ hideout, which is now quite bustling with converts brought from the wasteland. The conversion business assigned to El Pastor’s followers seemed to be going well.

The image injector I had installed here was still working, so the converts who flocked here could receive the mental mark that all other believers had supposedly received in a day and become one with them.

The important thing was that there was a mark. Being able to trust someone just by asking, “What vision did you see?” was… a great advantage in a wasteland where people couldn’t be trusted.

The personnel from the mercenary company we brought are being transported to the infirmary. While they sleep in the infirmary, the image injector will engrave fantasies about El Sueño in their minds.

Then they will no longer worry about being purged by El Sueño, and naturally blend into this landscape. I naturally make my way through the crowd.

I stand where everyone can see. With the appearance of a god emitting light from my face, with the Calliope module’s output appropriately raised to make the whole body tremble just with my voice, I shouted:

“We are now waging a holy war against disbelief! We are waging a holy war of inclusion, bringing converts here and embracing them… and waging a holy war of streams, each spreading out into the wasteland.”

The opposite of streams was a river. After mentally reviewing this once, I naturally shouted:

“Aren’t you curious by now? Why am I called El Sueño of the Blood-Soaked Hands rather than El Sueño who enjoys or El Sueño who shows mercy? Don’t you want to see the power of the god you serve!”

The reason I received that nickname was, of course, because of the first appearance I showed to the Dreamers. It was a nickname they gave me after seeing me grab a gang hunter with both hands and completely tear him apart.

Answers of “We want to see” literally begin to pour in. I raise the output of the Calliope module even more. I shouted with just one word causing painful tremors to spread. They will receive it.

The name of the black market I had initially spotted was Bazar. It was a black market located in a huge cavity formed in the wasteland. There was only one way in, and truly only one way out.

“Bazar will be saved! It will be liberated from the hands of Los Payasos and know joy, and all those monstrosities, called ‘artwork,’ that Los Payasos made from people will be burned and buried.”

El Pastor’s followers, my most reliable fanatics who consider even pain as seeds of awe and trembling, were the first to chant El Sueño’s name. The voices of others followed.

“And that battle will not be a holy war of streams, but a holy war of the river. I will lead all of you to walk inside the hellhole of Bazar. Will you fear that huge cavity?”

That huge cavity was created during the extinction war. It was the trace of Allied Forces’ bombing that happened to fall on Las Vegas. It truly wouldn’t be wrong to call it hell.

But that fact wasn’t very important to them. The important point was… that finally, believers other than El Pastor or La Roca would be able to fight while watching the god guide them in person.

“We do not fear! Even when walking through the gloomy ruins of that war, El Sueño of the Blood-Soaked Hands will be with us, and will tear apart those who try to harm us, so we are not afraid!”

The result of deception and enchantment was ecstasy. A mass of voices that had become one lump, where individual voices could not be distinguished, echoed throughout.