Earth's SSS Pornstar to SSS Combat God in Another World-Chapter 50: A Son’s Silent Goodbye

Alaric stared at Joji with open confusion. Thirty barrels of gold sat around the vault, marked with charcoal, waiting like they had been promised a miracle.

He did not see the miracle yet. He only saw a vault and a locked door.

"Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Start hauling," Joji said, already rolling the first barrel into place.

Alaric still did not move. He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration, then finally bent his knees and shoved.

The barrel scraped and rolled. Another followed. Soon all thirty were lined up where Joji wanted them, shoulder to shoulder like soldiers.

Joji turned on him with a stern face.

"Alaric. I will show you a secret only the two of us should ever know. Just you and me," Joji said.

Alaric saw that look. Joji only wore it when the enemy was real, the kind of real that wore steel and did not bleed. Alaric nodded, serious now.

Joji raised his hands. Reality rippled like a disturbed lake.

Alaric frowned. He could not see what Joji seemed to be seeing. No door. No light. No rune.

Only Joji’s hands held out into empty air as if he was touching a wall that did not exist.

Joji stayed focused, face tight, breath controlled. Then, like a man inviting someone into a room, he extended one hand.

"After you," Joji said.

Alaric’s brows pinched.

"Joji. You aren’t thinking of scheming against Mister Jonas’s gold now, are you?"

Now Joji was the one confused. His face soured.

"What are you saying? I may not be that rich, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a bottom line," Joji snapped.

"Then what are you hinting at? Presenting all these barrels like this?" Alaric said, concern creeping into his tone.

Joji looked at his outstretched hand. Then at Alaric standing stubbornly in the wrong spot.

He slapped his forehead, grabbed Alaric by the sleeve, and yanked him forward.

Alaric felt nothing, then felt everything change. The vault vanished.

He was suddenly standing in a tight stone room made of new black granite, air cooler, sound wrong.

His body snapped into a combat stance out of pure instinct. He realized a heartbeat too late that he was unarmed.

Joji stepped in behind him and the opening vanished like it had never been there.

Alaric’s shoulders went rigid. Then Joji grabbed his ankle hard.

"Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff!" Joji roared, mimicking a wild dog.

Alaric jumped like he had been struck, aura flaring in a reflexive surge.

He spun, ready to kill whatever had touched him, and found only Joji grinning like an idiot.

"You. Stop playing," Alaric hissed. "Why are we in a dungeon?"

Joji’s grin faded into something proud and guarded.

"This is my secret, Alaric. I can open a dungeon on my own. It’s small right now, but it will grow."

Alaric stared at him like he had grown a second head. Then he started pacing the room, touching walls, measuring corners, and walking the perimeter.

"Joji. This would change everything," Alaric breathed. "Imagine our knights raiding bandit lairs, then storing supplies, moving wounded, hiding evidence. Imagine the benefits."

Joji’s face twisted into a wounded look.

"Alaric. You really don’t care about me, do you?"

Alaric stopped. The words landed. Not the joke. The meaning behind it. A power like this made Joji a target.

A big one. A rare one. A man who could be hunted for the ability alone.

Alaric’s mouth opened, then shut. His expression turned tight.

Joji waved it away before the guilt could become a speech.

"Let’s stop the drama. We load the barrels."

They did not waste time after that.

They brought the first barrel in, then the second, working in a rhythm.

Gold rolled across granite. The room filled with a quiet wealth that felt unreal.

When the last barrel was inside, they waited.

Half an hour passed in the vault outside, enough time for the disappearance to look like magic instead of theft.

At last, the vault door opened.

Jonas stepped in first, anxious eyes scanning the room.

He saw the marked barrels were gone and his breath escaped in a shaky line.

"Such mighty magics," Jonas murmured. "Truly worthy to be kept secret."

Martin stood at his shoulder, saying nothing. Still, his gaze on Joji and Alaric had changed.

They might only be Rank-3 knights, but men did not get entrusted with such tools by accident.

"Knight Joji," Jonas asked carefully. "Where did the gold go?"

"It’s in my room," Joji said, offering no details.

"You mean in the Everhart Estate?" Jonas pressed.

"Something like that," Joji replied.

Jonas exhaled, accepting what he could not control. Martin’s eyes narrowed once, then moved on.

"What about the ores you asked for?" Martin said.

"That we carry with a common cart," Joji replied. He glanced at Jonas. "I hope you understand. Freight like that isn’t free. The charge will be ten percent."

Jonas nodded without complaint. He understood better than anyone that if Walter carried even a pocketful of that gold openly, it would not survive the first greedy eye on the road.

Better to pay a cut and keep the rest alive.

Joji went back to his room, then hurried to the vault again while Alaric stayed behind.

They lied that the spell could only transport one line at a time.

When they were finished, both knights went outside together.

The carriage was already prepared. Walter sat on the coach seat, reins in hand.

Rizz wore the harness like a costume, able to think for himself.

Pants still on, meme shades tucked away for now, looking too pleased with himself to be trusted.

Jonas could not show concern in front of servants and guards.

He could not hug his son. He could not say goodbye the way a father wanted.

So he did what men like him always did when feelings got dangerous.

He asked questions, reasoning that talking to Joji was the only way he could show his care.

Is the food enough? Is the water clean? Do the wheels creak? Is the harness tight? Is the road safe?

Walter could only watch, eyes down, hands clenched so hard on the reins that his palms began to blister.

He listened to his father’s voice and felt something in him crack and harden at the same time.

Joji waved goodbye with too much enthusiasm, as if cheer could cover the knife edge of the moment.

They rolled out. On the road, nearing the edge of Fellbarrow County, they met an unexpected caravan.

Not a small merchant line. A moving fortress.

Five hundred men or more, wagons and guards, the kind of procession that did not fear bandits because it was the bandit.

Cutler Caravan. At its heart rode a grand white carriage.

Melchor. He did not spare the road a glance. He did not care who he passed.

Inside the carriage, Walter saw him groping women and laughing, one hand buried in flesh, the other lifting booze as if the world existed only to entertain him.

Walter’s stomach went cold.

’That is not my brother anymore,’ he thought. ’That is an enemy I will cut apart with my own hands.’

Joji saw the man too. He had no personal enmity with Melchor. Still, he memorized the face without reacting.

Then the system rang in Joji’s head, clean and undeniable.