God-Tier Enhancement: My Upgrades Never Fail-Chapter 247: Episode _Thug of Light and Darkness (4)

5.

0.01%.

One in ten thousand.

It was an extremely tiny figure.

But what if, on a battlefield where millions fought, you could increase each person’s combat power by that one-in-ten-thousand amount?

Any commander would spare no expense to make it happen.

By simple math, if millions of people each became one ten-thousandth stronger, the total increase would no longer be a faint, invisible 0.01%.

Let alone 30%.

Their own side had been weakened by 30%, while the enemy had grown 30% stronger. On top of that, all the curses, Plaguelands, and other tricks unique to the warlocks had been completely blocked, making the gap even wider.

Naturally, the mood among the warlocks sank.

The supporting warlocks were suddenly rendered useless.

The Sanctuary’s range was so vast that any halfway decent curse would just be a waste of dark magic. Even if they used offensive magic, the spells would have their damage reduced inside the Sanctuary, giving them no hope of punching through holy-attribute magic.

They needed to come up with a countermeasure, but a solution wasn’t going to appear easily.

The Sanctuary had not been part of their calculations at all.

And Specialist knew all too well where that Sanctuary had come from.

“...That’s Simin’s.”

“Looks like he squeezed some money out of the Emperor.”

“He probably enhanced the Sanctuary too, right?”

Han Simin. The man who was so good at playing both sides for money that you could never be sure whose side he was on.

She wanted to open the guild chat and ask him right away, but she hesitated.

They were in the same guild, but right now, they were on different paths. They had joined hands for mutual benefit, but not long ago, they had each gotten what they wanted, shaken hands, and parted ways. They had agreed that even if they ended up fighting each other to pursue their own interests, neither side would have regrets.

If Kang Yeseul wanted to maintain their secret line of communication, she could, but that wouldn’t necessarily be good for Specialist. It would mean everything would flow exactly the way Han Simin wanted. She didn’t mind that, but the possibility of taking a loss made her hesitate.

The Specialists was willing to accommodate Han Simin and make things convenient for him, but only because it was a win-win. Playing the game at a loss for someone else’s sake was something she reserved for a lover or family.

And Kang Yeseul was already halfway to making Han Simin both.

“Should I ask him?”

“Could we pay more than what the Emperor gave him?”

“No way.”

As the three of them found themselves once again at a disadvantage—perhaps in an even darker situation than when the war had first begun—they saw Grokile approaching from a distance.

“Well, at least we’ve still got him.”

“Even inside the Sanctuary, a high-rank demon should be able to...”

“But who’s that on his back... huh?”

On his back was a very familiar face.

The three of them instinctively glanced around, conscious of the eyes on them.

’What is this? Is it really okay for him to just stroll over like that?’

Their worry lasted only a moment, because Han Simin climbed down from Grokile’s back and greeted them cheerfully.

“Let’s get inside quickly. Time is money.”

*

What Han Simin asked for was nothing complicated.

“Warlocks have a lot of money, right? Tell them to pay. I’ve already been paid once, so I can’t just shut it off completely, but I can turn it off for about four hours a day.”

They were speechless.

It really was that simple.

He was asking for a sum so large it went beyond tens of millions and into the hundreds of millions, but Specialist wouldn’t have to pay it herself; they could just bill the Warlock Order. Even if they lived hidden from the world and had less money than the Emperor, the warlocks still raked in a considerable amount of cash through their own dark channels. Besides, they had already made a fortune from this war alone.

“The Sanctuary needs to be turned off at least eight hours out of every twenty-four to recharge. Call it maximum capacity. But I’ll extend that by another four hours for you.”

He casually leaked that kind of information as well.

If they used it properly, the warlocks could keep fighting during the hours when the Sanctuary was down. They wouldn’t be able to maintain a full-day advantage like they had now, and it wasn’t as if you could just call for a temporary truce in the middle of a war because the Sanctuary was about to come back on. Still, it was something.

It was a deal they had no choice but to accept.

“We can manage that much, but...”

Jeong Seolah, however, wanted to use this as an opportunity to clear up a few questions.

“I want to know what you’re thinking, Mr. Simin.”

“Me? What about me?”

As she stepped closer with a sincere expression, Han Simin unconsciously took a step back.

’Seolah really is pretty.’

Ready to answer anything, he listened as she asked the one thing that absolutely had to be clarified in this war.

“You’ve got a foot on both sides. Are you going to move purely for profit, or are you going to hold your ground somewhere?”

“...Hmm.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a few things. It was just one.

This was all she needed to know. The simplest yet most important question.

One might ask what difference it would make to know the personal stance of a single user, but when that user was Han Simin, it was different. He didn’t have the power to decide the outcome of the war by himself, but he could certainly tilt the momentum.

No, maybe he really could decide the outcome alone. Just looking at Grokile, the high-rank demon who obediently followed his words, made that speculation feel plausible.

That was why she wanted to know. The Specialists would decide how to act based on his answer. All of this was for the good of the guild—to hear his honest intentions in advance and avoid losses.

Understanding this, Han Simin paused to think. He didn’t need to agonize over the answer, but he did need a moment to organize his thoughts into words. He had set his goals for this war long before it began, but expressing them out loud was another matter.

After glancing around for a moment, Han Simin leaned his head closer to hers.

“After you told me about Act 3 of the Main Quest, Ms. Seolah, I knew the demon invasion would definitely continue. That’s why I’ve been moving like this. It might sound a bit rude, but in the end, the Continental Army is going to win this war.”

His expression was serious, and the words he spoke were full of conviction.

“Are you... planning to do something to Grokile...?”

“No. I’m not going to put any restrictions on Grokile at all, as long as he doesn’t touch my Sanctuary or my other assets. But even so, the Continental Army will win. Even if the demons start crossing over using blood as a sacrifice, they won’t be able to come through without restrictions like Grokile did. And Grokile’s rampage doesn’t have much time left anyway.”

She looked at him in confusion.

“Ah. This is information I should really be selling, but I’ll just tell you. Actually...”

He glanced sideways at Grokile, who was frowning as if his pride had been wounded. Then he raised his voice just enough for Grokile to hear as well.

“That bastard summoned demons so recklessly that the Celestial Realm sent down an upper-rank angel.”

She gasped.

“What!”

Strictly speaking, the fault lay with Han Simin. In terms of sheer numbers and frequency, he had summoned far more demons than Grokile had, then used Squeaker to bind them with no way out and dragged them along to power-level his strike force.

But Grokile didn’t know that.

And ignorance, in this case, meant being played for a fool.

His expression twisted. He finally understood why the Continental Army had been acting so confident. In reality, only a tiny handful of people in the Continental Army knew that an upper-rank angel had crossed over to their side without any power restrictions, but that misunderstanding was enough to intimidate Grokile.

“If it’s an upper-rank angel, do you know who...?”

“Why? Would you recognize the name if I told you? I heard it was Aria.”

“...Ah. If it’s that bitch...”

When Han Simin casually revealed the upper-rank angel’s identity, Grokile’s expression grew even darker.

Aria was a battle maniac whose very name made even demons who had spent their entire lives in combat grimace. Among the Celestials, she was a born fighter, so famous in the Demon World that even Grokile hesitated to face her one-on-one. Once she entered a battle, she went wild, caring nothing for her own life and focusing solely on annihilating the enemy. For demons, who cherished their lives above all else, that kind of mindset was practically a natural enemy.

And if they fought here and now? The Sanctuary would be amplifying her power. The priests and mages would be supporting her as well. The warlocks would help Grokile, of course, but their main specialty was debuffs, and there was no warlock in existence capable of debuffing an upper-rank angel.

“Tsk, tsk. Who told you to rampage around without a clue? You should’ve kept your summoning in moderation.”

Grokile remained silent.

Brazenly blaming Grokile, Han Simin continued.

“So anyway, hurry up and open the Gate to the Demon World and at least grab your episode rewards. No matter what, the warlocks are going to lose this war. And I’m aiming for what comes after that.”

“What comes after?”

“Yes.”

His voice, which had been audible to those nearby, dropped even lower, switching to the guild chat.

With his lips covered so they couldn’t be read, his secret whispers reached only the three of them.

6.

The next day, the warlocks’ movements changed.

They stayed huddled up as much as possible, moving only at night. That didn’t mean they completely pulled back whenever the Sanctuary was active; after all, it could be turned on and off at Han Simin’s discretion.

They minimized their losses and moved more actively. Instead of offensive magic, they cast spells for harassment and control. They went back to basics, searching for ways to make the enemy bleed as much as possible. To that end, they brought out artifacts instead of relying solely on magic.

Even though the Sanctuary prevented them from seeing major results, the Continental Army still had to be cautious. The warlocks fully exploited their specialties: raiding supply lines, poisoning drinking water, and otherwise dragging things out.

Meanwhile, Grokile’s movements remained as active as ever. On his way back, Han Simin had once again reassured him that he wouldn’t interfere, and after hearing there was an upper-rank angel on the field, Grokile felt he had to fulfill as much of his role as possible before she showed up.

Of course, he didn’t act as recklessly as he had the previous day. He always kept demons around him and only fought at distances that kept him as far from the Sanctuary’s influence as possible.

“That angel bitch. Just show yourself. I’ll tear you to shreds.”

He talked big, but inside, he was uneasy. He was afraid she might actually appear.

And words have a way of coming true.

Aria appeared before him, leading the strike force, minus Han Simin.

“Y-you bitch!”

“We finally meet, Grokile.”

“Hmph! You’ve got some nerve showing your face. Do you not realize this will be your grave?”

“That would be your story, not mine.”

“Pathetic whore. You’re wearing a dog collar for a human, stripped of your weapons and armor, and you think you can beat me?”

“You’re in the same boat.”

“If we strip everything off and fight, a demon like me is stronger than any Celestial bitch! In a little while you’ll be howling like a dog, so come at me!”

“Your filthy mouth is just the same as ever.”

The one common weakness they shared, Han Simin, was nowhere to be seen.

In that case, no further words were needed. The upper-rank angel and the upper-rank demon clashed.