《Neon Dragons - A Cyberpunk Isekai LitRPG Story》 Chapter 0 - Alpha "...and that wraps up episode 74 of the Neon Dragons playthrough! Be sure to like and sub¡ª" ''Sure thing, FelineOfTheNorth,'' I mentally quip while closing the tab and clicking on another one that bears a strikingly similar design. I''ve been a subscriber for ages and have made it a habit to like videos even before hitting play. "Hellooooo, you beautiful people! Welcome back to Neon Dragons, episode 47!" the voice blares from my headphones. Almost involuntarily, I lip-sync the well-worn greeting with GamerZZZ. It''s just another Thursday night for me: Alone at home, living my best life vicariously through my favourite content creators. "Neon Dragons" is the latest Cyberpunk-style RPG from my favourite video game company, SparkSoft, released just a couple of months ago. As the cruel joke that was my life would have it, my PC crashed a week before the game''s launch. My modest earnings from my deli gig aren''t nearly enough to cover new components, let alone ones capable of running this game. So, I''ve been vicariously adventuring as a badass netrunner through an arguably excessive amount of Let''s Plays and playthrough videos across various streaming platforms. Is this lifestyle healthy? No. Do I care? Also, no. With no friends in proximity, no romantic partner, and no family, what''s a girl to do? Consider selling myself for PC parts to experience my dream game? Actually... not exactly the worst thought I''ve ever had. Would anyone pony up the cash, though? And where would one even begin looking? MostlyFans? I give myself a once-over. Unkempt black hair cascading past my shoulders. Breasts so ample they''re practically a chiropractor''s nightmare¡ªor wet dream, they do make money off of issues like that¡ªyet some folks might find that appealing, right? Bulging belly, arms, and legs. Got to hit the gym someday, but surely there''s a niche market for this body type somewhere, isn''t there? I let out a heavy sigh, the grim reality and distasteful musings of my life weighing down my already burdened back¡ªthanks a lot, stupid breasts! "I''m just pathetic, aren''t I?" I murmur, cranking up the volume on the video. The buoyant tones of GamerZZZ serve as a temporary antidote to my spiral of self-loathing and destructive thoughts.
Hours later, with the last few fresh episodes from my go-to content creators under my belt, I''m back on the Neon Dragons wiki page. Am I obsessed? Abso-freakin-lutely. And you have no right to judge, okay? Fuck off. My wiki forays have this peculiar quirk¡ªsomething my online, international friends never miss a chance to rib me about on the weekends. I read only those wiki articles that align with the episodes I''ve just watched. Spoilers are the enemy, you see. Sure, I want to absorb every byte of data about Neon Dragons, but finding out what happens before I see it unfold in a Let''s Play? That''s a hard pass. SparkSoft''s games are renowned for being chock-full of secret items, skills, and other hidden gems that would lose all their magic if spoiled ahead of time. So far, I''ve stuck to my self-imposed rules, and I fully intend to keep my wiki perusals confined to where my latest Let''s Play left off or walked past. "Ahh, if only it were that easy," I sigh, my cursor hesitating over an imposing wiki article ominously named ''The Wall''. From my current standpoint, it''s the game''s biggest enigma. Neon Dragons boasts an enormous world with multiple mega-cities, each teeming with tens or hundreds of millions of inhabitants, and countless smaller settlements. But dwarfing them all is ''The Wall,'' a colossal structure enclosing the playable area¡ªor so I''d naively thought. A friend had let slip that the Wall was merely the tip of the iceberg. The spoiler had sent me into a weeks-long fit of rage, but I couldn''t hold a grudge forever. My friends had been grinding through the game for months, clocking in literally thousands upon thousands of hours. Most of them had taken an entire month of work, just to play the game! The blame was partly mine. I had joined their voice chat unannounced, right in the middle of a fiery discussion about the Wall. They''d clammed up the second they realised I was there, but the spoiler bomb had already detonated. The temptation to dive into the wiki article about the Wall was becoming increasingly hard to resist. Who the hell built this thing? Was it Sobirashu, or maybe Rockefeller Inc.? What monstrosities were they hiding out there¡ªor even worse, protecting us from? There was just one reliable way to know: Succumb to the allure of that forbidden wiki page. Summoning all my willpower, I closed the window and shut off the monitor. It was 4:23 a.m., and my stint at the deli started at 7:30am. Time to crash. As I sank into my grimy bed sheets¡ªwhich someone really needs to remind me to wash¡ªI was suddenly jolted by an intense headache. ¡°Ah, crap!¡± I darted to the lone table in my cramped studio apartment and downed three over-the-counter painkillers. ¡°Not this again,¡± I groaned as the meds began to dull the throbbing. Chronic migraines: A legacy from my late mother, right along with these back-breaking breasts. As the pain ebbed, I nestled back into bed, cuddling with my assortment of plushies¡ªmerch from my favourite content creators, naturally. The rattling AC above my bed provided a chilly comfort. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s Friday. I can catch up with friends, maybe game some Avorion. That¡¯s been hella fun lately. Just one more da¡ª¡± Mid-thought, an excruciating wave of pain tore through my head, unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt before. The instinct was to scream, but the agony was so acute that all I could do was contort in silent torment, gasping for air that refused to come. My lungs ignored my desperate attempts to control them¡ªhell, I couldn''t even tell if the thoughts were mine anymore, as it felt like my brain was about to burst. The sound of blood coursing through my ears filled my world as I started to convulse. My lungs screamed for oxygen while my mouth stretched open in a mute howl of unendurable pain. No matter what, there was no way to get my lungs to breathe. ¡®This is it. This is how I die,¡¯ I realised, a thought crystallising with chilling clarity amid the chaos. ¡®Would''ve been nice to actually play Neon Dragons. Of all times to jinx myself with a death flag¡­¡¯ As this absurdity registered, one final thought crossed my mind. ¡®Who even laments their imminent death with a meta-commentary about their own self-imposed death flag¡­?!¡¯ And then, everything turned dark. Forever. (?)
- POV: Dr. Yoriin Matsutake - Yoriin''s boots pounded against the sterile floor of the covert research facility, each stride fueling his desperate sprint. His breaths came in ragged gasps, nearly drowned out by the thunderous echo of military boots pursuing him down the deserted corridor. ''Why won''t these bastards quit? Damn it!'' His thoughts raced almost as fast as his feet, his grip tightening on the case he clutched like a lifeline. Plans had unravelled, safeguards had failed, and by some twisted form of luck, he was still alive. Well, ''alive'' was a relative term for a man who was down one arm and riddled with ghastly gunshot wounds. Despite his nanites'' frantic efforts, his cerulean blood continued to ooze from his injuries like an overflowing barrel of GraSludge. For years, he had been a dedicated servant to Sobirashu Corporation¡¯s R&D department, a job that once filled him with exhilaration. Every project was groundbreaking, each discovery a leap beyond the comprehension of an ordinary citizen in Neo Avalis. That sense of wonder died when he got promoted. Accepting that godforsaken promotion was, unequivocally, the most catastrophic mistake of his life. The project, "G.E.M.A.," had initially seemed like the zenith of his career. That illusion shattered a month ago when he uncovered its nightmarish core: The Soul they had trapped. In some warped achievement of science and sacrilege, Sobirashu¡¯s geniuses had ensnared an actual Soul, condensing its essence into a program; a datashard. The very same datashard that Yoriin now held in the case pressed against his chest, as he navigated the labyrinthine hallways. ''Backups deleted, scientists eliminated, research eradicated... I just have to get out. I need to escape. Now!'' His thoughts looped in frantic repetition, a frail mantra he clung to, desperate for the solace of believing he¡¯d be safe¡ªonce he got out of this hellish nightmare. Sirens wailed, filling the air with a sense of urgency that only heightened Yoriin''s desperation. The red strobe lights played tricks on his eyes, casting eerie shadows on the walls as he accelerated. He glanced at the HUD projected in his eye¡ªa shimmering map, guiding his every turn. One final corner and he''d be at the elevator. Freedom was within reach. But as he rounded that final bend, his heart sank. Four security specialists, garbed in advanced tactical armour, stood sentry before the elevator doors. Each appeared ready for war, their weapons at the ready. They were among Sobirashu''s finest¡ªhighly trained, equipped with the newest and best, and notorious for their ruthlessness when it came to data-breaches or corporate internal conflicts. In a split-second decision, Yoriin thrust the case into the air. Time seemed to elongate, every moment stretched to an eternity as his hand darted to the custom-made Cydonia pistol holstered at his side. The first bullet surged from the barrel with deadly precision, targeting the closest guard. It tore through the air, whizzing past layers of advanced armour to penetrate the man''s eye socket. Brain matter splattered onto the sterile floor as the guard crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut. Even before the first body hit the ground, Yoriin pivoted to the second target. A flick of his wrist, a squeeze of the trigger, and the bullet burst through the guard''s visor, lodging itself into his skull. The impact was so strong that it ejected shards of the visor backward, each piece a deadly fragment in its own right. The third guard barely had time to raise his weapon before Yoriin¡¯s third bullet shattered his kneecap, buckling his legs. As the guard screamed and fell, Yoriin''s fourth shot entered through his open mouth, obliterating his vocal cords and exiting through the back of his skull. The fourth guard, perhaps the most experienced among them, had initiated an evasive roll. But Yoriin''s reflexes were too swift, his aim too unerring. He fired, and the bullet met flesh, tearing through the guard''s rolling form to puncture his heart. The guard gasped, clutching his chest as if that could mend a shattered heart, before falling lifeless to the floor. All of this occurred in a span of less than a second. Yoriin''s outstretched hand flawlessly caught the case as it descended, its contents still invaluable and now guarded once again. He strode over the fallen guards, a grim reminder to his deadly proficiency, and stepped into the elevator. With a flick of a mental switch, he activated the net hacking capabilities of his deck. A self-made daemon¡ªa program designed to crack even the most impregnable of security systems¡ªactivated instantly. Lines of code scrolled past his vision, firewalls fell, and safety measures were overridden. As the elevator began its ascent, Yoriin allowed himself a sigh. The alarms faded into the distance, but the weight of what he carried¡ªand what he had done¡ªremained as heavy as ever. ''It didn''t have to come to this,'' Yoriin mused bitterly, the memories playing like a reel in his mind. Only a month ago, he had approached Professor Matsuiro Kobayashi, the brilliant lead researcher of Project G.E.M.A., with his gnawing concerns. The memory of the encounter was as vivid as a fresh wound. "Yoriin-san, you of all people should understand that the path to scientific enlightenment is strewn with sacrifices," Kobayashi had said, condescension dripping from his voice like venom. "Your last project, GLADIUS, was it not responsible for thousands of casualties during its experimental phase? Why the sudden qualms about ethics and morality?" This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. True, his last endeavour, codenamed "GLADIUS," had resulted in a disquieting number of deaths. But those had been different circumstances entirely! Each participant had been fully briefed on the risks and had willingly signed waivers. The ethical dilemma had been present, but mitigated; a murky area but justifiable, at least to a degree. The offer of life-altering sums of money to low-income citizens of Neo Avalis may have swayed their judgement, but they had at least been aware of the stakes beforehand. "Kobayashi-sama, the dynamics around GLADIUS were entirely different, I assure you," Yoriin had retorted, exasperation lacing his words. "This entity within the shard... it''s an enigma! We don''t even know its origins! How can we presume it would consent to the grotesque manipulations we''re subjecting it to?" Kobayashi had scoffed, a dismissive flicker crossing his eyes. "Nonsense, Yoriin-san! Let''s forget this conversation ever occurred. For the sake of our professional history, I''ll overlook this momentary lapse in judgement. Now, refocus! We have a deadline to meet for the quarterly earnings report. Trust me, you don''t want to be responsible for explaining delays to the suits." The dismissal had been absolute, leaving no room for further argument. The proverbial door had been slammed shut on any ethical discussion, sealing Yoriin''s resolve to take drastic action. And now, here he was, clutching the cursed shard and fighting his way out of a facility that had become a crucible of unspeakable horrors¡ªall because ethics and morality had been shoved aside in the relentless pursuit of ''progress.'' A ghost of a smile tugged at Yoriin''s parched, cracked lips as he recalled the exact instant he''d pulled the trigger, sending a bullet unerringly into Professor Kobayashi''s forehead. The look of utter astonishment that had flashed across Kobayashi''s eyes was almost worth the chaos that had ensued. ¡°Almost¡­¡± he muttered, as the elevator chimed, indicating that he had reached the selected floor. As the elevator doors slid open with a whisper, Yoriin found himself facing the sleek, minimalist reception area of Sobirashu Corporation''s HQ in the heart of Neo Avalis. To his mingled relief and amusement, it seemed the alarms blaring in the R&D wing hadn''t yet permeated the rest of the labyrinthine complex. ''Ah, the joys of corporate compartmentalization,'' he thought, a smirk forming despite his circumstances. ''Each department so isolated, so insulated, they don''t know their left hand from their right. Perfect for preventing inter-departmental leaks or sabotage, sure. But today, it''s going to fuck them over.'' His brief moment of triumph was shattered as a fit of violent coughing wracked his body, expelling a clump of thick, cerulean-coloured blood onto the polished floor. His knees wavered as he staggered out of the elevator, each step an agony. ''Fuck, I''m running on fumes here,'' he mused, feeling the life drain from him with each heartbeat. ''I need a ripper, and I need one yesterday.'' Grimacing against the searing pain, Yoriin mustered every last reserve of energy and sprinted across the reception floor, his objective as clear as his time was limited. Summoning the last dregs of his stamina, Yoriin charged through the reception area, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. He was a spectacle, a blur of desperation and disarray, drawing the startled gazes of everyone in the cavernous space. Office workers, interns, and security personnel all paused, their minds struggling to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding before them. Just as he neared the grand exit¡ªa pair of imposing, mirror-finish matte black glass doors¡ªthey glided open automatically, revealing a squad of six Sobirashu enforcers on the other side. The surprise on their faces mirrored his own, but only for a split-second. Reacting with practised speed far beyond anything an unaugmented human would be capable of, Yoriin hurled the case into the air once again and drew his high-tech ''Cydonia'' pistol. His arm moved in a blur, almost independently of his own volition. The first enforcer took a bullet between the eyes, his expression of surprise replaced by a vacant gaze as he collapsed. The second and third enforcers barely had time to raise their guns before precise shots punctured their windpipes, leaving them clutching their throats as they dropped to their knees, gasping for air as they died. However, this time, Yoriin wasn''t quick enough to evade all incoming fire. He grunted as a bullet slammed into his left shoulder, another tore through his side. Teeth gritted, he persevered. The next two enforcers fell, one clutching towards a ruined eye socket before Yoriin put another round into his head, the other with a gaping hole in his chest. Yoriin snatched the still-airborne case out of the air with the breast-pocket of his coat, spinning on his heel to dispatch the final enforcer with a bullet to the heart. Around him, the reception area had erupted into pandemonium¡ªscreams, shouts, and the clatter of overturned furniture filled the air. Ignoring the blazing pain of his new wounds and the shocked, frightened faces of the civilians around him, Yoriin stumbled through the glass doors into the vibrant, neon-lit streets of Neo Avalis. Each step was a Herculean effort, his cerulean blood leaving a trail on the asphalt. With a grim sense of urgency, he melded into the tide of people and vehicles, clutching the case like a talisman against the world he had just torn apart. The cries of distant sirens began to fill the air, but Yoriin had only one thought dominating his mind: ''I have to keep going, keep moving. If I can just get to Faelix¡­ He can fix me up. He definitely can. I know it.''
An unspecified eternity later, some thirty blocks distanced from the monolithic structure of Sobirashu HQ, Yoriin careened into a dim-lit alleyway. His body sagged against a wall tagged with kaleidoscopic graffiti, each panting breath leaving a smear of his cerulean lifeblood against the rebellious artwork. ''Keep moving, Yoriin. Faelix can patch you up. Just keep moving,'' he chanted internally, as if the mantra could magically mend torn flesh and avert impending death. Despite his mental stubbornness, his body signalled a grim prognosis that his mind was unwilling to accept: He was not going to make it out alive. Hours had passed like an endless blur, each moment a desperate gamble, as he''d evaded, fought, and fled through the labyrinthine streets of upper Neo Avalis. Sobirashu had clearly unleashed the hounds; their enforcers and advanced max-tech units had been relentlessly pursuing him. It was as if a vacuum had been created, pulling away the usual rabble¡ªgangs, scavs, and all manner of street dwellers¡ªmaking the city eerily desolate. Now, as he ventured farther from the corporate epicentre, the pulsing vitality of Neo Avalis sprang back to life around him¡ªbut this was not necessarily a blessing. Bedraggled, bleeding, and notably cyber-enhanced, he became a moving target in this hive of scum and villainy. His garb and visible implants screamed ''jackpot'' to any opportunistic scavs or gang member who happened upon him. Each step was a tormented effort, as Yoriin forced his failing body to stagger down the labyrinthine maze of alleyways towards Faelix''s underground clinic. With every inch, the mental barrage intensified¡ªwaves of despair, self-loathing, and crushing remorse for the Pandora''s box he had opened. ''What have I done? The scientists, the guards, Kobayashi¡ªthey all had families. And for what? To free a Soul we shouldn''t have captured in the first place? A Soul I don¡¯t even know how to free?!'' He clenched his teeth, mentally berating himself. ''You fool, Yoriin, you bleeding, self-righteous fool. All this death on your hands, and for what? What have you actually fixed?!'' His vision blurred, the jagged edges of his reality fraying as his body screamed for respite. Ahead, he saw the mouth of another alley, another one that led closer and closer to Faelix''s sanctuary. But it might as well have been a million miles away. ''I just need to catch my breath. Just for a moment,'' he lied to himself, sinking to the ground beside a collection of dented and rusting trash containers, their stench a jarring juxtaposition to his high-octane desperation. That moment was all it took. His world went black, a velvet curtain falling over his consciousness.
With a jolt, he snapped back to reality. His eyes focused, and there before him was a young girl, maybe 15 years old, her hands hovering cautiously over his body, searching for valuables. With the last vestiges of his strength, Yoriin''s hand shot out, gripping her wrists in an iron hold. "You picked the wrong day," he rasped, his voice tinged with both regret and a looming sense of finality. ¡°Much like I have, it seems¡­¡± The girl''s eyes widened in abject terror, the icy grip of fear freezing her from head to toe. Yoriin loosened his grip slightly and forced his cracked lips into a grim smile. "I won''t hurt you," he croaked, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I just need your help to get to¡ª" The thought was cut short. The tell-tale thumping of heavy boots pounding on asphalt reached his ears, amplified by his enhanced hearing implants. Sobirashu''s max-tech units had found him. He could almost visualise them¡ªwarriors clad in monolithic armour, armed with devastating firepower. No escaping them, not this time. A suffocating sense of doom enveloped him. ''So this is how it ends,'' he thought bitterly. ''All my sacrifices, my sins, and not a damn thing to show for it.'' Suddenly, the girl spoke up, a defiant blaze lighting her terrified eyes. "Let me go!" She demanded. Looking at her, Yoriin was struck by a heavy wave of profound sadness. It was as if the universe had dangled a sliver of hope before him only to yank it cruelly away. In her, he saw the final opportunity, the last chance to ensure the G.E.M.A. project would never see the light of day. "I''m so, so sorry," he choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks. The girl''s eyes filled with dread, her body going rigid as she instinctively understood the tenor in his voice. "Please, no! I have a family! A brother, parents, they''re waiting for me! I don''t want to die!" "I have no other choice," Yoriin whispered, the weight of his words breaking his own heart. His right hand, trembling, curled into a fist, before the girl had a chance to step back. In a swift, agonising motion, Yoriin struck the side of the girl''s temple. Her body went limp, collapsing to the ground beside him. As her consciousness flickered out, Yoriin''s sense of self loathing deepened into a bottomless pit. This was it. It truly was the end. He felt it in his bones, in every ragged breath, as the thumping of boots grew louder and louder, zeroing in on him. Yet, as he awaited his doom, case still cradled in his arms, he found a sliver of cold comfort. With trembling hands, Yoriin unlatched the high-tech case. It was filled with an intricate web of biometric sensors and quantum locks, designed to protect its precious contents. The holographic interface flickered to life, casting multicoloured lights across Yoriin''s aged face as he input his final override command. The case hissed open, revealing its priceless cargo¡ª the G.E.M.A. shard. The shard, a jigsaw of iridescent hues, pulsed with a life of its own. It shimmered in a myriad of colours, each glinting piece reflecting a different shade. The raw power it held was immense, contained within a shell of crystalline lattice. Yoriin held it in his hands for one last time, the shard casting a prismatic dance of light across his tear-streaked face. It was a thing of beauty and terror, a physical representation of the heights and depths of human potential. With a deep, shuddering breath, he lifted the girl''s frail body into his arms. Her skin was cold, and her eyes were vacant. "Forgive me," he whispered, his voice choked with regret and sorrow. The G.E.M.A. shard glinted ominously in his hand as he slipped it into the dataslot at the back of her neck. He would have inserted it himself, if his dataslot had not already been blocked by a Sobirashu-specific blocker, to make sure that none of the scientists on the project got any funny ideas. This truly was his only option. The girl''s body convulsed violently as the shard disintegrated, uploading its data into her neural network. He held her tighter, tears streaming down his face as he whispered apologies into her hair. Every convulsion felt like a knife through his heart, but he didn''t let go. Eventually, her body stilled, her heartbeat ceased, and her last breath slipped away into the cold, silent air of Neo Avalis¡¯ night. His arms were shaking as he gently laid her lifeless body into the nearby trash container. This was his final act, his last desperate bid for redemption, yet it was tainted with a heinous irony. In seeking to rectify the sins of his past, he had committed an act that echoed the very transgressions he had initially rebelled against. He had killed a young girl completely unrelated to the project. The very same kind of disregard for ethics and morals that had initially triggered the cascade of tragic events that had led him to this very moment. As the sound of boots grew louder, Yoriin closed his eyes, the weight of his actions pressing heavily upon him. His end was near, but perhaps, in his last moments, he had struck a blow against the monster he had helped create. The bitter irony of it all had Yoriin laughing, a harsh, raspy sound that echoed in the hollow room. His cerulean blood splattered from his mouth with each tumultuous cough, painting a vibrant picture of his impending demise. Tears streamed down his face, carving rivers through the dirt and grime. The elite max-tech unit rounded the corner, their menacing silhouettes stark against the sterile white lighting. "Dr. Yoriin Matsutake," their leader barked out, his voice distorted by the modulator in his helmet. "Surrender and turn over the project immediately!" Yoriin could barely contain his laughter at their demand. He held up his hands, showing them the empty case. "Too late," he managed to croak out, his voice echoing eerily through the room. His laughter grew louder, more manic. "I inserted the shard myself!" In one swift movement, Yoriin drew his pistol, his fingers trembling as they clutched the firearm. He squeezed the trigger, the deafening sound of gunshots reverberating off the walls. But the max-tech officers were faster, their implants and abilities activated in perfect unison. They twisted and turned, evading every bullet with preternatural agility, far beyond anything that should humanly be possible. Then, they retaliated. Their high-calibre weaponry roared to life, tearing through Yoriin''s fragile body with explosive force. His laughter abruptly cut off as his midsection evaporated into a mist of explosion and cerulean-coloured blood, the rest of his body collapsing to the floor. As the final moments of his life bled away, Yoriin''s thoughts turned to the Soul that had been housed within the shard. A strange sense of peace washed over him as he sent out a silent message. "Good luck," he thought, a bitter smile on his lips. "I hope you''re free now¡­ I am sorry for everything." His eyes fluttered closed, the echo of his laughter still ringing in his ears as the world around him faded to black. His last act, his final rebellion, finished.
My eyes cracked open lethargically, the glaring light from the overhead lamps amplifying the throbbing headache that had already been pounding in my skull. "Perhaps dying would actually have been preferable¡­ Stupid death-flag can¡¯t even do its job right," I mused to myself, the raging torment in my head bordering unbearable. I cautiously scanned my surroundings, my befuddled mind echoing a single, perplexed thought: ¡®Where the fuck am I?¡¯ My gaze wandered, trying to make sense of the environment around me. It had the earmarks of a hospital room¡ªsterile walls, a bed fitted with crisp sheets, the lingering scent of antiseptic in the air¡ªbut something was off. Flanking the bed were machines that defied immediate categorization; their designs were sleek and oddly futuristic, boasting interfaces adorned with blinking lights and glyphs I didn''t recognize. Yet, despite their advanced appearance, they bore the telltale signs of neglect. Grime coated their surfaces, and I saw spots of rust threatening to spread like an uncontrolled infestation. This wasn''t any hospital I was familiar with. It was as if someone had taken the concept of a medical facility, twisted it through a dystopian lens, and spat it back into reality. As my senses slowly sharpened, I began to pick up on distant sounds¡ªfaint but unmistakable. The muted chatter of a radio broadcast seeped into the room, its timbre blending with the sterile atmosphere. The broadcasters were discussing current events, their voices imbued with a professional cadence that contrasted sharply with the room''s unsettling aura. Oddly, the banal chatter provided a semblance of normality, a thin thread of connection to a world that seemed suddenly alien yet oddly comforting. With each word from the radio, I felt a smidgen more anchored, as if reality, whatever that now meant, was within arm''s reach again. "Damn, I''m really in a hospital... This is going to annihilate my savings," I grumbled, the financial implications of my predicament suddenly crashing over me like a tidal wave. An ambulance ride alone would be a budgetary nightmare, let alone the costs associated with whatever medical mystery had landed me here. Well, looks like it''s time to welcome some new debt. Just throw it on the pile with the rest, I suppose¡­ Just as I was tallying up imagined bills in my head, the radio chimes in for the closing remark: "...from Neo Avalis! May you have a chrometastic day!" My blood turned cold. What did I just hear? Neo Avalis? Chrometastic day? My eyes darted around the room in a new state of horror, taking in once again the strange machines and unfamiliar environment. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks: I''ve gone off the deep end. I was actually dreaming that I was inside Neon Dragons, the game I had spent hours immersing myself in¡­ Fantastic. Here I had thought I had just been on the brink of dying, but no, the reality was far worse: I''d lost my fucking mind. Just as this unsettling thought settled in, the sound of hurried footsteps resonated through the hallway outside my room. The door burst open dramatically, revealing a tall man with dishevelled hair. He rushed in, his eyes meeting mine, and a palpable wave of relief washed over his features. "Sera! You''re awake!" he exclaimed. A sense of profound confusion overtook me. ¡®Sera? Why is he calling me that? My name is¡ª¡¯ my mind fumbled for the answer, but ultimately came up empty. A chill swept over me as I realised that I couldn¡¯t even remember my own name. My tongue felt thick, my voice faltering as I tried to articulate my bewilderment. Carefully, I managed to open my mouth and utter the only thing that made sense in this nonsensical moment. "Who''s Sera?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and underlying panic¡­ Chapter 1 - Reality The ensuing hours were a disorienting whirlwind of revelations, each one more startling than the last. First off, my name¡ªor at least the name attached to the body I seemed to be occupying¡ªwas Seraphine Vildea. Friends and family, I was told, shortened it to Sera. Secondly, I apparently had a true, real, bona-fide, flesh-and-blood family! The frantic man who had burst into my room was none other than my father, Oliver Vildea. There was also a mother in the picture, Valeria Vildea¡ªyeah, the double V didn''t escape me either. Plus, I had an older brother named Gabriel Vildea, who I apparently referred to as Gab. What a nick-name! Thirdly¡ªand yes, it turns out that''s a word¡ªthe date was pegged at 2122, and I was indeed in Neo Avalis. As in, the Neo Avalis from the game Neon Dragons. Clearly, my mind had taken a one-way trip to Absurdistan, likely induced by the severe oxygen deprivation I had caused myself, considering I''d apparently ceased breathing for quite the long stretch back there in my studio apartment. Fourth, this body was a mere 15 years old. Just last week had been Sera¡¯s birthday, but the celebratory mood was marred by the fact that I¡ªshe¡ªhad been in a coma for over a month. Found basically dead in a trash container near Selfour Plaza, of all places. Intriguingly, that name struck a chord; it was an area in Neon Dragons renowned for its upscale boutiques specialising in, let''s say, peculiar merchandise. What Sera had been doing there remained an enigma even to me, as I couldn''t seem to access a single memory from her¡ªor my former self, if that even applied. My sense of identity was blurring, my own name slipping through my fingers, much like the specifics of my previous life. My gig at the deli, for instance, felt increasingly like a fragment from a long-forgotten dream. When I realised the gravity of this erosion of my sense of self, I had been the epitome of serenity. Absolute, perfectly calm, serenity. The sedatives coursing through my veins? Purely a standard procedure for coma patients, who are known for their occasional volatility. It had nothing¡ªabsolutely nothing¡ªto do with a prior episode involving me, a rather startled doctor, and two bewildered nurses. Lastly, and perhaps most shockingly fortunate of all, it turned out my family had a fairly robust healthcare plan! My hospital ordeal wouldn''t be the financial sinkhole I had feared it might be. A bizarre revelation, really, considering this dystopian cyberpunk universe seemed to have a better healthcare system than my own reality¡ªnow that''s irony for you. However, this silver lining had a cloud: Now that I was out of my coma, the hospital was essentially evicting me. Evidently, our insurance didn''t cover ''extended stays'' or other such bureaucratic nonsense. My dad, Oliver, had gone back to our home¡ªyes, Sera, or I now, lived with her, or my parents¡ªto fetch some of Sera''s clothes and a more wheelchair-friendly vehicle. Oliver was a motorbike guy, you see, and a wheelchair was a logistical nightmare in that equation. The doctors had made it abundantly clear that my newfound friendship with the wheelchair was going to last a while. So, there I sat¡ªcompletely zoned out, thanks to the heavy-duty sedatives¡ªin an unfamiliar body, in a world ripped straight out of a video game. All while awaiting the arrival of a man who was the father of the person whose life I seemed to have hijacked. To say I felt ''strange'' would be like calling a hurricane a ''slight breeze:¡¯ An absolute understatement. Yet, the range of my emotional spectrum was startlingly narrow at the moment. Credit for that goes to the industrial-strength sedatives coursing through my veins. Those things were the real deal.
My memories of Oliver''s return and the subsequent ride back to our home were quite fuzzy, yet certain details managed to imprint themselves in my consciousness. One was Oliver''s genuine, heartwarming smile as he ushered me into the cramped apartment that the Vildea family¡ªmy family¡ªoccupied. "Welcome home, Sera!" he had announced with such unbridled enthusiasm you''d think nothing in the world had gone tits up. The apartment was modest at best; it was clear we weren''t rolling in dough¡­ or I guess ¡°Credits¡± now, as they were called in Neon Dragons. The space felt too small for a family of four, each corner seemingly filled with either makeshift furniture or essential utilities. Sera and Gabriel, I learned, even had to share a room. Their domains were separated merely by a thin sheet of metal hung from the ceiling with some old wire. To say that I was less than ecstatic about sharing the room with a 16-year old teenager was quite the understatement once again, but hey, at least it wouldn¡¯t get too boring with all the hormonal angst likely to happen. I just hoped that he would keep his¡­ personal activities to a minimum whenever I was around. Perhaps Oliver was blissfully unaware that my world had been upended, or perhaps he was putting on an act to keep his newly-awake daughter from spiralling further into panic. After all, the doctor had flagged me with an amnesia diagnosis. That would at least lend some credibility to my flurry of idiotic questions. Thank the lords for these small mercies. Regardless, Oliver had been thoughtful enough to grab me some food from the vending machine just outside our building''s entrance¡ªhome cooking was naturally an unaffordable luxury in Neo Avalis, reserved for the ultra-rich. Now, I found myself nibbling on a piece of something that was optimistically labelled as "meat," its texture more akin to a science experiment gone wrong. Had it not been for the sedatives still dulling my senses, I might''ve turned our small living space into a splash zone of regret and half-digested future food. Oliver''s time was limited; he''d only been able to swing by during his work break after receiving the emergency alert about my sudden awakening. He worked as a foreman for some sort of transportation company, a detail that seemed oddly grounding in this unfamiliar world. Before rushing back to his responsibilities, he had left me with some parting instructions. "Listen, Sera. I know things must feel surreal right now, but we''ll navigate this whole thing together, okay?" He had placed a slip of paper with contact details on our tiny, cluttered dining table. "If you need help, just enter your brother Gabriel¡¯s info into the data-pad by the TV. I''ve already told him to expect a call from you." "Just... sit tight and¡ª¡± His face had whitened as he realised the inadvertent insensitivity. I couldn¡¯t do anything but sit, even if I wanted to, after all. My world had been reduced to this wheelchair. To ease the awkward moment, I had laughed and reassured him, "Don''t sweat it, Oliver. I intend to stand on my own two feet soon enough. Go on." Something in my voice or maybe the use of his first name seemed to make him wince. "Dad" would likely have been a better term, but how could I call him that? He was Sera¡¯s father, not mine; my own father had been gone for over a decade. "Er, yeah. Just stay put, and we''ll catch up more when your mom and I get back from work, alright?" I offered a thumbs-up, a universal sign I hoped I couldn¡¯t mess up, and watched as Oliver, who seemed to be a genuinely caring dad, retreated toward the door. "Love you, Sera!" he had called out before disappearing beyond the threshold. Though I wasn''t Sera, hearing those words from a fatherly figure like Oliver ignited a pang of longing within me. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ''Well, if my mind is set on manufacturing this fantastical reality, at least it''s given me a world like Neon Dragons and a seemingly loving family to be a part of,'' I mused. ''There are far worse imaginary places I could''ve ended up in. Like some nightmare realm with Cthulhu¡ªthat guy''s an absolute menace.'' With that comforting thought, I wheeled myself over to the TV, ready to further explore this bewildering new existence.
Regrettably, my plans to gather information came to an abrupt halt when I realised the TV had neither a remote nor any physical knobs or dials to fiddle with. "How does one even operate this arcane contraption?" I mumbled with the puzzled voice of an old-timey wizard. Given my current situation, I felt an acute need to understand more about this world, to know the extent to which it mirrored the Neon Dragons game I was familiar with. And speaking of timing, the game''s storyline commenced in 2128. That made me a ''time traveller'' with a six-year head start, and I wondered if that meant my game knowledge was, well, obsolete¡ªor should I say, ''presolete''? And don¡¯t worry, the irony hit me quite hard: I had consciously limited my Neon Dragons wiki deep-dives to only the topics relevant to the Let''s Play episodes I''d watched. Oh, how I regretted that self-imposed limitation now. Those episodes never ventured anywhere close to discussing a ton of topics, much less getting close to the Wall, which was one of the most iconic features of the game. But here''s the kicker: I had actually seen the Wall. With my own two eyes! Well¡­ with Sera¡¯s own two eyes. But that was good enough! And let me tell you: The Wall was no mere backdrop or decorative element. It was a colossal structure, a monolithic partition that stretched far beyond what the eye could see, imbuing the horizon with an aura of untouchable grandeur. Neo Avalis was situated at the northeastern edge of the game map, as far as major cities went. Sure, there were still hundreds of kilometres of forests, smaller towns, and other miscellaneous landscapes extending further northeast before one would actually hit the Wall, but it was still the furthest north-eastern major city. The realisation that the Wall was a tangible entity¡ªsomething not just confined to digital pixels and intricate lore¡ªfilled me with a mix of awe and trepidation. But before I could fully ruminate on this, my field of vision was abruptly interrupted by a translucent window popping up. Had it not been for the heavy-duty sedatives rendering me emotionally numb, I might have leapt out of my wheelchair in surprise. "Okay, what now?" I thought, my eyes darting around as if expecting a manual to materialise. As I focused my gaze on the ethereal window, it expanded, revealing a message: [Just a reminder: Don''t forget to do your exercises, if you feel up to it! -Love, Dad.] Warmth washed over me as I read the message; I couldn''t help but feel a pang of emotion, albeit subdued by pharmaceuticals. More importantly, however, this incident sparked a hunch about how I might interact with the inscrutable box that was this TV set. I turned my attention to the television and felt an intuitive "click" within the confines of my mind. "Aha, cyberware! I should''ve guessed!" I couldn''t help but crow triumphantly. Guided by an internal sense of navigation, I mentally ''flipped'' the activation switch within my cerebral interface. Instantly, the television sprang to life, settling on a news channel focused on Neo Avalis. "Bingo~! We have contact. Time to absorb some local knowledge," I mumbled to myself, now doubly focused on the unfolding broadcast.
A full two hours of mind-numbing news later, I was no closer to enlightenment than before. "Yikes, future news is bleak as hell. It¡¯s just a relentless parade of corporate greed, political sideshows, and today''s most sensational mass-murder cases," I muttered, only to pause and reflect on my own words. "Actually, scratch that¡ªit''s pretty much business as usual compared to my original world. Almost comforting..." With another mental flick of that elusive internal switch, the TV screen went black. ''God, this is surreal. I wonder if I''ll ever grow accustomed to having a built-in remote in my head,'' I thought, still somewhat mesmerised by the bizarre conveniences of this future tech. With more idle hours stretching ahead before Sera''s parents would be home, it was crucial to tackle some existential quandaries. Number one on the list: Was I alone? And I don¡¯t mean physically alone in the room¡ªthat much was clear. I meant mentally alone in this body. Was Sera still lurking in some cerebral crevice? Over the following hour, I experimented with vocalising and mentally chanting every conceivable variation of ¡°Sera,¡± ¡°Seraphine,¡± ¡°Miss Vildea,¡± and any other identity tags that might elicit a response. Had anyone been present to witness my repetitive monologue, they''d have fled, convinced they were sharing space with a certifiable nutcase. But all my efforts proved fruitless. There was no sign of Sera answering or even stirring. That left me with two disquieting possibilities. ¡®Either she¡¯s truly gone, or she''s trapped so deeply within our shared psyche that she can''t communicate,¡¯ I mused, a shiver coursing through me at the prospect. ¡®The last thing I''d ever want is to be a passive prisoner in my own body while someone else takes the wheel. That¡¯s an actual fucking nightmare,¡¯ I thought to myself, imagining the horrific scenario. Inwardly, I found myself hoping that Sera was actually gone. The alternative¡ªa consciousness trapped inside its own body, silently screaming for release¡ªwas too ghastly to contemplate. Taking a breath, I finally whispered to the empty room, "If you''re in there, Sera, I am so, so sorry," each word heavy with genuine remorse. The sole glimmer of consolation¡ªin so far as one could find comfort while pondering the gruesome and untimely death of a 14-year-old girl¡ªlay in the hospital reports I had eavesdropped on. They strongly suggested that Sera had, in all likelihood, died over a week ago. Sera had been discovered lifeless, her data-slot at the nape of her neck irreparably scorched. The emergency medical technicians must have been flabbergasted when, against all odds, she convulsed back to life, only to lapse into an immediate coma. The burned-out data-slot had been replaced¡ªa non-negotiable necessity in the tech-dependent landscape of Neon Dragons¡¯ world. Here, the data-slot served as the universal interface for virtually everything. Consequently, even my parents'' seemingly somewhat bare-bones healthcare plan had no alternative but to fund the replacement of the data-slot in my¡­Sera¡¯s neck. Agitated by this line of thinking, I flung my arms into the air. Hindered by the muscle atrophy from a month-long coma, the motion was more like a sluggish salute to the heavens rather than a gesture of frustration. ''I really have to make a decision about whose body this is¡ªmine or Sera''s,'' I thought, grappling with the existential dilemma before me. ''I can''t keep second-guessing every thought or action. It''s time to face the music; Either I accept this strange fever dream as my new reality for now, or continue to deny its existence¡­¡¯ Easier said than done, let me tell you. How does one even begin to grapple with a decision like this? It''s like trying to realise you''re dreaming when the dream feels as tangible as waking life. ''Hold on a sec... Wasn''t that the premise of that Inception movie? Do I have some kind of totem hidden in my pockets?'' My mind meandered as I started patting down the limited pockets of my ill-fitting outfit. ''Serious mental note: Invest in clothes with more functional pockets,'' I mentally chided myself. The harsh reality became crystal clear: This so-called "future" had only graced me with two measly pockets! Who in their right mind thinks reducing pocket space is progress?! Naturally, no totems surfaced in my brief search. That would have been too convenient, too easy an out. I proceeded to the next logical step: A reality check, Neon Dragons style. I pinched, slapped, and otherwise subjected myself to mild discomfort¡ªavoiding any actions that would leave a lasting mark, of course. I didn¡¯t want to incite panic when Sera¡¯s parents returned. Taking it up a notch, I hurled myself out of the wheelchair, attempting to jolt myself awake with that disorienting, free-fall sensation. Bad move. All I achieved was an intimate encounter with the grimy apartment floor. Apparently, cleanliness wasn''t high on Oliver¡¯s priority list, which explained why he hadn''t bothered to remove either of our boots upon entry. The ordeal cost me twenty agonising minutes to hoist myself back into the wheelchair, each second a reminder of my deteriorated physical condition. ''Once I untangle this identity knot between Sera and me, there''s no question¡ªI need to dedicate myself to some intense physical therapy. Being trapped in a wheelchair with a body that''s atrophied, while the world of Neon Dragons is literally right outside my doorstep, is like having my computer crash the day before the Neon Dragons game release. Absolutely, unequivocally unfair!'' Finally, after another agonising ten minutes of heavy breathing that nearly made my vision swim¡ªcredit to the compromised state of what was originally Sera''s body¡ªI managed to bring my physical systems back to some semblance of normalcy. ''Okay, let''s take inventory: I have no magical totems to snap me back to reality. Pain is real. Gravity''s pull is very real. I''m either locked in the most elaborate VR game ever, or this is genuinely my life for the foreseeable future.'' A thought slammed into me like a rogue wave. "Would that truly be so bad? Do I even want to get out?" I mumbled, as if voicing the question would give it added weight. The answer slapped me in the face: A resounding ¡°NO¡±. Why would I want to go back? And to what, exactly? To my miserable, loveless life? To a dead-end job that made every day feel like a carbon copy of the one before it? To an existence where even my one escape¡ªgaming¡ªwas literally impossible without selling my disgusting body to perverts on the internet? ¡®So. What¡¯s the alternative, exactly¡­? I pretend I¡¯m Sera¡­? That¡¯s really fucked up. She¡¯s just some random girl, with a loving family! I can¡¯t just take over her life like this!¡¯ I protested my own thoughts. After a few more minutes of intense internal debate, my thoughts, my emotions, my fears, and my hopes¡ªall these chaotic elements distilled down to one compelling conclusion: ¡°...Unless?¡± Chapter 2 - Notifications Could I really just step into Sera''s shoes, inheriting her life as though it were a hand-me-down jacket? According to the hospital staff, I was grappling with ''post-comatose amnesia,'' which, frankly, sounded like an all-you-can-eat buffet of medical jargon. It was apparently the partial or complete loss of all memories, with the possibility of recovery being uncertain. And yes, they casually dropped that bomb on a 15-year-old girl fresh out of a month-long coma. Clearly, emotional intelligence wasn''t a prerequisite for medical school around here. But that diagnosis, grim as it was, could also be my ticket to a seamless transition. It would easily explain why ''Sera 2.0'' seemed worlds apart from the original¡ªdifferent hobbies, different demeanour, maybe even a different favourite colour¡ªcyan being the absolute greatest, of course. The temptation was almost painfully simple: Accept this new identity. Become Sera. Did my moral qualms about essentially capitalising on a girl''s tragic death outweigh the tantalising opportunity to start anew in what appeared to be a reality pulled straight from the pages of an isekai novel? No, they didn''t. I''ve never aspired to sainthood. Being morally upright was never a priority. Why should it become one now? If Sera''s life was the collateral damage required to give me a second chance, then so be it. I always liked the villains of the stories better anyway. Did I deserve this shot at redemption? I wasn¡¯t sure, probably not. My past life was foggy at best, rapidly evaporating like morning dew under the sun. But don¡¯t worry! Neon Dragons? Every rule, every strat, every piece of lore was perfectly preserved in the vault of my memory! What I do recall of my previous existence, though, was mostly a dumpster fire. Sure, I couldn''t say how much of that was self-inflicted, but if anyone deserved a cosmic mulligan, it was me, right? Didn¡¯t Jesus say that everyone deserves a second chance? I¡¯m certain he was talking about exactly this kind of scenario: Being isekai¡¯d into the dead-body of a 14-year old girl to usurp her entire life within a world based on a video game. Jesus really did know it all, didn¡¯t he? "I am Sera... Seraphine Vildea," I declared softly, rehearsing the words as though they were lines in a play I had yet to understand fully, trying to acclimate to this fresh reality, one that I had managed to rationalise into existence. A sense of euphoria bubbled up within me at the acceptance, as intoxicating as champagne yet as unnerving as a roller coaster''s descent. ''This truly is a second chance at life, isn¡¯t it?'' I pondered, steering my wheelchair through the space of an unfamiliar home toward the communal bathroom. The mirror was going to be my first confrontation with Sera¡ªor rather, the new Sera. Yeah, sure, I told myself it was crucial to know who I''d be impersonating, to get a sense of her looks. But let''s not kid ourselves: I was downright giddy to catalogue any "upgrades" that came with this new body. Like, for instance, the glaringly obvious fact that my chest was no longer serving "geographical landmark" vibes¡ªI couldn¡¯t wait to sleep on my belly for once! Wheeling myself up to the bathroom mirror, my eyes met Sera''s¡ªmy new eyes, as it were¡ªand I braced myself to catalogue the features of this new existence. Staring back at me from the mirror were vibrant green eyes, alive with curiosity and reflecting the newfound zest I felt. They were framed by untamed brown hair, straight but in desperate need of a brush¡ªor perhaps a full-blown salon intervention, courtesy of a month-long coma. My skin was porcelain pale, almost ethereal, making the green of my eyes pop even more. The pallor made sense, given the long absence of sunlight on this flesh. Thin lips and a petite nose with some faded freckles on top completed the visage, which somehow felt both foreign and instantly mine. Slight imperfections like a faded scar on the left cheek or the slightly uneven eyebrows made the reflection uniquely human. ''So, this is Sera. This is me,'' I thought. Every detail in the mirror seemed to scream potential; it was a blank canvas begging for new experiences to fill it with colour and definition. There was also a certain youthful vibrancy in this face that my former self could never claim to possess¡ªanother upgrade, perhaps? "I am Seraphine Vildea," I declared more audibly this time, enunciating each syllable as I watched my lips move in the mirror. The sight seemed to anchor the sentiment into the fibres of this strange yet increasingly familiar world¡ªa world that was now mine to explore. "Holy shit... I really am Seraphine Vildea!" I exclaimed again, the gravity of the words sinking in like a sledgehammer of realisation, not unlike the fabled Truck-kun who often played the gatekeeper in isekai fantasies. Only this one was no fantasy; it was my new, startling reality. This was the moment of irreversible transformation, a metaphorical point of no return. The person I had been before was now a fading memory, lost to the recesses of a past life. I was Sera, and Sera was me. The newfound acceptance seemed to hover in the air, like a question that had finally found its answer. And yet, it begged another question, one that was equally confounding: What comes next? What do I do now in this life that has become my unexpected inheritance? "Well, first order of business: Shedding this wheelchair. Time for some physical rehab!" I announced to the empty room, turning the wheelchair back towards the living room. Because let''s be honest, there''s no exercise regimen worth its sweat without a killer soundtrack to back it up. I effortlessly accessed the retro-future looking radio in the room using my neural interface, toggling the mental switch to fire it up. To my delight, the technology responded instantaneously, as if the machinery itself was hardwired into my brain. "It just works," I murmured to myself, imitating a gravely, overly confident voice that immediately had me snickering. ''Oh Todd, if only your promises had been even as remotely as reliable as this tech¡­'' Still chuckling at my own, terrible humour, I focused inward and mentally flicked through a carousel of radio stations. It was like channel surfing but in my head¡ªeach station emerging as a glowing node that I could select with a thought. I cycled through classical ensembles, blaring rap, some strangely futuristic form of jazz, and more, each accompanied by a brief snippet of sound, like previews of a playlist curated by a DJ from another dimension. Then, my ears perked up. I hit upon a station that was blasting a fusion of k-pop rhythms mixed with the high-energy cadence of anime openings. It was like someone had taken my old world''s playlist and given it a neon glow-up! The electronic beats and animated vocals swirled together into a perfect harmony that got my blood pumping. "Aha! Now this is what I''m talking about!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the smile off my face. It was like this station was designed to drag me out of my existential crisis and straight onto the metaphorical dance floor. With my newfound soundtrack, I was more than ready to tackle whatever exercises I could manage. Let''s just say if motivation had a sound, this would be it. My initial surge of excitement hit a brick wall when I confronted the harsh truth: My legs were basically noodles. Trying to lift them even a measly few centimetres off the ground felt like I was attempting to deadlift a car¡ªnot that I had ever done that either. A torrent of sweat started to bead on my forehead, each droplet a testament to my struggling muscles. "All that hype for what? A reality check?" I mumbled to myself, taking laboured breaths as I tried to reclaim some semblance of energy. My enthusiasm for this second chance seemed to dissolve, like sugar in a bitter cup of coffee. "Seriously, what are these legs? Anvils?" I shouted in exasperation, forcing the weak muscles to strain against the invisible weights that seemed to be shackled to them. It was as if each fibre was staging a mutiny against my willpower. "Oh, you thought it''d be easy, huh? Think again, fucker," they seemed to mock with every failed attempt. After several more attempts that left me teetering on the edge of a dizzying exertion-induced blackout, it dawned on me: I needed to re-strategize. If going full throttle with leg lifts was equivalent to attempting a max-level quest with starter gear, then I needed to grind my way up¡ªjust like levelling Woodcutting to 99. You didn¡¯t start that one trying to use a Crystal Axe on Crystal Trees either, after all. You had to start with Bronze and Normal trees, like everyone else. Well, unless you counted Achey, but I doubt quest-specific loopholes were a thing for me in this scenario. I manoeuvred my wheelchair to align in front of the worn-out leather couch that faced the TV. "Okay, this should be more manageable," I mumbled, motivated by the idea of the couch serving as a halfway point, a bench-mark¡ªquite literally¡ªcompared to the lofty heights I had previously attempted. Time for some grinding math: I''d halve the difficulty of the exercise but double down on the repetition. In gaming terms, I''d get the same XP over a longer grind, but at least I''d actually be able to gain XP in the first place¡ªeveryone knows that if you don¡¯t complete the action, you don¡¯t gain any. There was absolutely no way I was going to let this second shot at life be marred by the constraints of a wheelchair. I had a world to explore, damn it! With my game plan in place, I braced myself for what I knew would be a gruelling session of self-imposed physical therapy. The first try felt like trying to lift a boulder with a stick¡ªa frail, feeble stick. My muscles quivered with the strain, and a veil of sweat formed on my forehead, trickling down my face like a torrential downpour. Each time I got even close to reaching the couch, my legs would wobble and give out, as if mocking me. I looked at the clock: Half an hour had passed, and all I had to show for it were sore muscles and dampened spirits. Just as I was about to give in to despair, a surge of stubborn resolve filled me. "Come on, come on, you can do this," I muttered under my breath, treating the exercise like the final, nail-biting moments of a boss fight. With a final heave and a grunt that would make a tennis player proud, I managed to swing my leg up onto the couch. "YES!" I hollered, throwing my arms up in a V-for-victory pose, my celebration echoing off the apartment walls. I felt like I''d just won the lottery, slain the dragon, and unlocked the ultimate achievement¡ªall rolled into one. Buoyed by my initial success, I dived back into the grind. About fifteen minutes later, and with a comparable amount of sweat and tears, my leg once again triumphantly reached its halfway throne on the couch. Just as I opened my mouth for another round of jubilant hollering, a strange chime echoed in my mind, like a notification alert from an unseen app. A translucent text message materialised in the corner of my vision, easy to dismiss but impossible to ignore completely. For a moment, my victory lap faltered. What was this? Was life now coming with fucking push notifications? But then again, in a world that now apparently contained data-slots and a parallel reality to the Neon Dragons universe, should I really be that surprised? The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. With a nudge of my newfound mental cursor, I ''clicked'' on the ethereal notification hovering at the edge of my vision. My familiarity with interacting with the apartment''s tech had given me a bit of a tutorial for navigating this odd internal interface. But nothing could have prepared me for what popped up next. My eyes widened, my mouth went dry, and the euphoric high of my recent accomplishments plummeted as if kicked off a cliff. I was paralyzed, my finger metaphorically lifted off the play button of my life. What I saw didn''t just make me freeze; it felt like someone had tossed a block of dry ice into the pit of my stomach. I couldn''t believe it. But there it was, spelled out in text as real and clear as the sweat that now felt cold on my forehead.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
I couldn''t say how long I was immobilised, staring at that jarring notification, but judging by the ache that had started to gnaw at my left glute, it had to have been a significant chunk of time. "Is this even real?" My voice finally broke the silence, almost hoarse, as if I hadn''t used it for years. Shakily, I shifted in the wheelchair, redistributing the weight that had been resting unevenly on my behind, causing a dull ache that seemed trivial compared to the emotional turmoil instigated by that inescapable message. It wasn''t that the notification was cryptic or vague; quite the opposite. In Neon Dragons, there existed seven different Attributes, which governed the player character¡¯s capabilities, those being: Body, Reflex, Intellect, Intuition, Edge, Tech and Ego. The appearance of this notification, right after I''d sweated bullets completing part of my rudimentary physical rehab, basically presented me with two freaky scenarios to consider: First, I''d lost it¡ªreally and completely tipped over into the abyss of madness. Or second, I''d inexplicably unlocked access to the System that ruled over the player character in Neon Dragons. My mind was a swirling vortex of confusion and incredulity. I had already been given a second chance at life, but now I also had a fucking System? On one hand, the thought was terrifying, especially when considering the precarious state of my mental well-being. But on the other hand, my gamer instincts were positively buzzing, turbocharged by this bewildering revelation. ''If XP can be gained, then Levels can be ascended. And if Levels can be ascended, I can improve everything,'' I told myself internally, each word a deliberate step to pull myself back to some form of equilibrium. Taking a grounding breath that filled my lungs and expelled tension, I dismissed the notification with a mere mental flick. ''Alright, let''s get the basics down. How the hell do I access this System?'' The ensuing ten minutes unfolded like a comedy sketch, featuring me as the clueless protagonist. A torrent of commands was released into the void: "System!" "Status!" "HUD!" "Inventory!" "Access Status!" "Open!" "Character!" "Skills!" "Traits!" "Abilities!" I found myself silently praying to whatever gods might exist that we didn''t have a camera system installed in our apartment. Because if anyone ever saw me making an utter fool of myself like this, I don''t know if my newfound identity as Sera could survive that level of humiliation. In the end, I came up empty-handed, unable to stumble upon the magic words or gestures that would unlock this mysterious System interface¡ªif it even existed in a way that could be manually triggered. But hey, I wasn''t about to be down and out that easily. I paused to take stock of the facts I''d gathered about my bewildering situation. First, this so-called System was clearly responsive to my actions, as evidenced by the timing of the notification that had appeared right after my exercise. It had to be somehow connected to my body, physically. Unless it was omniscient¡­ At which point, no first. Second, the notification had popped up directly on my HUD, suggesting it was linked to my cerebral interface, the same place where I had mentally controlled the TV and radio. Unless it was omnipotent¡­ at which point, no second. And third, when the body I now inhabited as Sera was discovered, her data-slot had been completely fried, rendered inoperable. Each clue seemed to lead me down a winding trail like a digital Sherlock Holmes. Then, as if illuminated by an inner spotlight, it clicked: The key to unlocking this enigma had to be buried somewhere within my HUD! Invigorated with the pulse-pounding excitement akin to a treasure hunter closing in on a long-sought prize, I diligently combed through every nook and cranny of the HUD in my cerebral interface. Riding the wave of adrenaline, I sifted through a trove of virtual options that populated my HUD. It was like discovering hidden gems within a labyrinthine video game menu. First up was a rudimentary GPS¡ªbasic, yet useful for someone like me, who could get lost in a cardboard box. Beside it was a detailed map of my immediate surroundings, which would undoubtedly come in handy; gone were the days of feeling like a headless chicken in a maze. Next, I stumbled upon an instant messaging system. ''Perfect for chatting with anyone from this new life,'' I mused, giddy at the prospect of diving into some social dynamics. A digital clock was also present, crisp in its simplicity yet invaluable in its function. Besides these, there were a smattering of other app-like conveniences. A weather predictor, a rudimentary news feed, and even something that looked like a calorie counter. Each felt like a little treasure, like uncovering cheat codes to life. But then, like the grand finale of a fireworks show, there it was¡ªat the very bottom of what one could generously term an ''app list.'' An icon simply labelled ''G.E.M.A.''. It had no art, nor any information listed alongside it. I hesitated for a moment, my virtual finger hovering over the icon. A mix of trepidation and excitement bubbled within me. ''Could this be it? The System?'' The air felt charged, and I felt like a hacker in a cheesy sci-fi movie, about to breach the mainframe. With a final flick of mental resolve, I tapped the mysterious G.E.M.A. icon. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I muttered with a grin, hoping that this truly was the System or I would look like a complete and utter fool. But almost immediately, my fears were alleviated as a strikingly familiar interface opened before my inner eye.
[¡ª General ¡ª] [Name: Seraphine Vildea] [Level: 0 ¡ª 0 / 700 XP] [¡ª Traits ¡ª] [None] [¡ª Attributes ¡ª] [Body: -1 ¡ª 100 / 500 XP] [Reflex: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [Intellect: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [Intuition: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [Edge: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [Tech: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [Ego: 1 ¡ª 0 / 1,000 XP] [¡ª Skills ¡ª] [None] [¡ª Perks ¡ª] [None] [¡ª Abilities ¡ª] [None]
A peal of jubilant laughter spilled from my lips, echoing around the room as I took in the tsunami of information displayed before me. ''This is insane, it''s like Neon Dragons come to life!'' I couldn''t help but muse internally, my mental cursor hovering reverently over each letter of the displayed interface, as if I were physically caressing the brushstrokes on a da Vinci painting. "Okay, this is something I can definitely work with," I finally declared to the empty room, my voice steadying as I emerged from my laughter-induced delirium¡ªa state that would have surely secured me a one-way ticket to psychiatric evaluation in another life. With a renewed sense of purpose, I steeled myself, preparing to dissect the information on hand like a general strategizing for battle. ''First off, let''s establish that my Body Attribute is utterly fucked,'' I mentally summarized, scrolling through the rows of data. If the System was treating me as the initialised player, being at Level 0 made sense. The game started you off with all Attributes at 1, giving you an additional 10 Attribute Points to configure your character to your liking. I fervently searched for a similar points allocation feature in this reality, but came up empty-handed after around ten minutes. I had to face the sad fact that life wasn''t going to hand me a customization screen; that likely would have been too much of a windfall, which I accepted surprisingly easily. My Body Attribute was definitely the most immediate concern, however. In the game, this Attribute controlled everything about your physical condition¡ªstrength, endurance, resilience¡ªand critically, your maximum HP. My current Body score of -1 didn''t exactly scream ''battle ready.'' In fact, if any altercation came my way, I''d probably crumple like a wet paper towel. Next up: Skills, Perks, and Abilities¡ªor rather, the glaring absence of them. Understandable, given I''d just ''spawned,'' for lack of a better term. Ideas about skill acquisition floated through my mind, but those plans were shelved for the moment; I wasn''t going anywhere until I was out of this wheelchair. But what truly sent a shiver down my spine was the blank slate under Traits. In Neon Dragons, Traits were assigned during character creation, and were intrinsic to shaping your character''s path. The HUD clearly had a slot for Traits; it was conspicuously empty, tagged with a disheartening [None]. In the game, Traits were often game-changers, laying the foundation of your character''s capabilities from the get-go. Their presence¡ªor lack thereof¡ªon this interface was a puzzle, one that might hold the key to understanding how this whole thing worked. Returning my focus to the interface, I grew increasingly intense, mentally prodding, poking, and swiping at every conceivable button and tab. I was desperate to unveil the Trait Selection screen, or whatever equivalent existed in this bewildering new reality of mine. Just as I was about to give up and accept my fate as a Trait-less character however, another window suddenly popped up. ¡°Yeeees!¡± I yelled at the top of my lungs, as I read the title of said window.
[¡ª Trait Selection ¡ª] [During initialisation, Character may select 1 Trait from the following list.] [Bonus: Due to Character starting with below-average stats, 1 additional Trait may be chosen at initialisation.]
[¡ª Trait List ¡ª] [Blademaster] You gain [Blades], [Knives] and [Throwing] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you may attempt a combat action using any of the mentioned bonus Skills at five times your normal speed. If this combat action is used in combination with the Throwing Skill, the thrown object also benefits from this increased speed. [Brawler] You gain [Martial Arts], [Brawling] and [Grappling] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you may attempt a combat action using any of the mentioned bonus Skills at five times your normal speed. [Educated] You may pick a bonus Skill of your choice, unlocking it instantly at Level 1. Whenever you gain Skill Points from Character Level-Ups, automatically gain a bonus point in the chosen Skill, up to the maximum possible Level as determined by the governing Attribute. [Ghost] You gain [Stealth] as a bonus Skill, unlocking it instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you can mentally prepare a path and receive feedback on whether your current capabilities and [Stealth] would be enough to follow it and remain unseen. Once per day, you may rapidly move up to five metres without anyone around you seeing you move. [Gunman] You gain [Pistols], [Rifles], [SMGs], [Shotguns], [Heavy Weapons], [Firearms] and [Sniper-Rifles] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you can reload your currently equipped weapon at five times your normal speed. [Hacker] You gain [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks] bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. You are immediately given eight Quick-Hack elements of your choice among available Verbs, Adjectives and Subjects. You may use up to two Quick-Hacks at the same time, if your Crown has the necessary capacity. [Hard To Kill] You are naturally more resilient than others. Your maximum HP is derived from your Body Attribute, plus an additional 20%. [Hidden Wealth] You have a stash of {c}20,000 hidden away somewhere. [Killing Blow] Your attacks are naturally more deadly than others. Any impact created by one of your combat actions is automatically changed and moved by up to 2 cm to inflict maximum damage. [Masterful Expertise] Once every hour, when you are attempting a non-combat action, you will be given a warning if you are about to fail in your attempt. [On Target] Once every hour, when you are attempting a combat action, you will be given a warning if you are about to fail in your attempt. [Polyglot] You instantly learn every common and uncommon language, both spoken and written variants, as well as all possible dialects. [Prodigy] Choose one Attribute. Gain 1.5x as much XP for any actions rewarding XP for the chosen Attribute and its deriverate Skills. [Undeniably Charismatic] You are naturally more charismatic than others. People have a naturally more friendly disposition towards you, when initially meeting them.
Scanning the extensive list of Traits, I was struck by a newfound dilemma: I had no idea which one to pick. Sure, I was grateful that the System tossed me a bonus Trait as a sort of consolation prize for my abysmal start, but that only complicated the situation further. In Neon Dragons, I had a meticulously planned character build, honed through trial and error of myriads of content creators! But applying those gaming strategies to my own life¡ªmy real, flesh-and-blood existence¡ªfelt disconcertingly different. It wasn''t just about Skill boosts or unlocking new Abilities anymore; these choices could shape my future in ways I couldn''t yet fathom. After all, whatever I chose here would stick with me through my entire life going forward¡­ Chapter 3 - Tantalising Choices "Alright, let''s think this through..." I murmured, staring intently at the roster of Traits. In the realm of Neon Dragons, the choices would''ve been straightforward: [Hidden Wealth] and [Gunman]. No-brainers, really. [Hidden Wealth] would have afforded me a solid cache of starting gear, while [Gunman] would have granted me the skills to wield it effectively. Then, I''d saunter off to the nearest scav hideouts, guns blazing, power-levelling my way through the early game like a bona-fide murder-hobo of yore. Obviously, in the game, I would have only had one Trait to choose from, but getting a gun was not exactly the hardest thing in Neon Dragons, so [Gunman] would have been my primary choice. But now? It wasn''t so simple. ''Damn, it feels a lot different when it''s your own life on the line, huh? My apologies to all the in-game avatars I''ve treated so recklessly over the years,'' I found myself thinking, almost guilt-ridden for my past virtual indiscretions. The stakes were drastically different when it was your own life dictating these choices. Could I genuinely go out and commit multiple acts of violence, even if my targets were just scavs? Sure, this had been a video game scenario before, but now it was my one and only life on the line. And let''s not forget, Neon Dragons wasn¡¯t exactly forgiving when it came to mistakes¡ªno respawn function, no second chances. If you died, it was back to your last save point, and that was it. Given the stakes, I could only assume this single life was all I had to work with now. Sure, I''d fantasised about it¡ªin a dark-humour kind of way¡ªespecially considering my landlord''s inexplicable rent hikes. But those were just thoughts, idle musings, not genuine plans for real-world violence. "Nope, I can''t go down that path. That''s just not me. Not Sera," I affirmed aloud, snapping myself back to the present. ''So, if the murder-hobo route is off the table, what''s my next move?'' I pondered, eyeing the list of Traits with renewed scrutiny. [Polyglot] and [Undeniably Charismatic] were the standout choices for anyone looking to specialise in diplomacy, focusing more on dialogue than brute force. Now, there were instant-translation implants available on the market, sure, but ones that offered the same range of language proficiency as the [Polyglot] Trait were prohibitively expensive. Besides, those implants wouldn¡¯t let you write or speak in multiple languages, only understand them. ''Polyglot could open up so many doors for me, doors that might otherwise remain locked until I''ve invested years into expanding my skill set,'' I contemplated as I earmarked [Polyglot] as a contender on my mental short-list. As for [Undeniably Charismatic], it was the crown jewel for any diplomancer. It had the power to unlock pathways that would normally be inaccessible until I¡¯d earned more Notoriety. But let''s be real, at its core, this Trait was a shortcut, a way to bypass a fair amount of grind. Its true potency, however, lay in its universal application. Whether I was dealing with corporate drones, scavs, operators, or netrunners, this Trait would make me inherently more likeable in any direct interaction. So, the million-credit question: Did I want to be a full-blown diplomancer? The answer was a qualified ¡®no¡¯. Sure, it might be the least combat-centric route, but let''s not forget we''re talking about the Neon Dragons universe. Even if I wasn''t planning on going full murder-hobo, there was no way around the fact that this new chapter in my life was going to be far more violent and chaotic than anything I¡¯d experienced before. Cyberpunk worlds are not your run-of-the-mill utopias, after all. ''I really need to look at something combat-oriented, or at least a Trait that gives me an edge in skills that can help me avoid combat when it¡¯s not in my favour,'' I thought, scanning the list of Traits again and mentally filtering out [Undeniably Charismatic] to narrow down my viable options. The moment my eyes swept across the Trait list, [Hard To Kill] practically jumped off the screen, grabbing my attention as if it were a life preserver in a sea of options. My recent, and less-than-enjoyable, dance with death in my dingy studio apartment had made it abundantly clear¡ªI had no affection for pain or the grim reaper. This Trait promised a hefty 20% boost in resilience, which was a significant game-changer by any measure. Without a second thought, it claimed its rightful place on my shortlist. I swiftly sidestepped [Masterful Expertise] and [On Target]. Though these Traits came with upgraded versions unlockable at Level 10, they were essentially bait. With my pitiful starting Attributes, taking the bait would mean squandering my initial Trait choice on what amounted to fool''s gold. Nope, not gonna happen! Among the Skill-centric Traits, [Gunman] stood out like a diamond in the rough¡ªor more like an armed mercenary in a field of librarians. Pun absolutely intended. The value here was off the charts: Immediate access and a free boost in six unique Skills, all sweetened with a tantalising instant-reload ability. However, the Trait came with a glaring asterisk¡ªit required me to wield guns. In Neo Avalis, firearms might be as easy to come by as knock-off designer bags, but let''s not forget¡ªI was a 15-year-old girl in a city that chews up naivety for breakfast. Packing heat out in the city would likely serve as a magnet for every ganger and scav in a three-block radius, doing more harm than good until I could truly master the Skill set. Even with one Level in each of those Skills, I¡¯d only be marginally better than a paper target at a shooting range, a far cry from becoming some teenage version of John Wick. Yet, dismissing six free Skill Levels and an almost magical instant-reload ability felt like willingly passing up a winning lottery ticket. Ultimately, I still decided that [Gunman] had enough going for it to earn a spot on my increasingly exclusive shortlist. Scrolling further down the Trait list, my eyes locked onto [Educated]. It was a solid pick for most players, allowing them to passively level up notoriously tedious Skills like Meditation. I mean, who wants to sit around contemplating their virtual navel when they could be out battling daemons or cybernetic criminals? But for me, it was a different story. With my dismal starting Attributes¡ªtake my Body score of -1, for instance¡ªmost of my Skills would hit their ceiling far too quickly. After all, in Neon Dragons, Attributes set the upper limits for Skills. So if my Body was languishing at -1, every Body-based Skill would be equally doomed, capping out at the same pathetic level. As appealing as [Educated] might be for others, for me it was like putting premium fuel in a trashcan. The next option on the list that caught my attention was [Killing Blow], the cheat code of every power gamer''s dreams. With an uncanny knack for auto-targeting the most vulnerable spots, this Trait is the stuff of legends in the virtual realm; a cheat in every other. But let''s keep it real¡ªthis is my life now, not a kill-or-be-killed video game. In this new reality, survival will always trump fatality. I don''t need to deal a lethal blow with every jab or bullet; dodging trouble and living to see another day is triumph enough for me. While [Killing Blow] dangles the tantalising promise of easier combat victories, it lacks the multifaceted utility that some of the other options provide. Don''t get me wrong, it was a killer Trait¡ªquite literally¡ªand almost too hard to resist. But in a world where every choice carries weight, I''d rather stock up on Traits that offer a wider range of applications, things that could help me in multiple aspects of my new life. That being said, I wouldn''t rule it out for future consideration. By the time I reached Level 10, I was pretty certain my life wouldn''t have morphed into a peaceful suburban dream. By then, I might be craving a bit of that auto-aim magic. But for now, it stayed on the "maybe later" pile. Turning my attention to the last four contenders¡ª[Hacker], [Ghost], [Brawler], and [Blademaster]¡ª[Brawler] was an immediate no-go. Though mastering hand-to-hand combat was a skill I couldn''t afford to ignore in this new life-that''s-not-a-game, it wasn''t the cornerstone I wanted to build my survival strategy on. [Hacker], on the other hand, was a veritable treasure trove of possibilities. Firstly, a way to gain experience without murdering anyone. Successfully defeating Daemons was the way that netrunners got their Character Experience, after all! Secondly, the Quick-Hacks would be supremely useful right from the get-go. I could go with ¡®Activate¡¯, ¡®Dispense¡¯, ¡®Deactivate¡¯ and ¡®Open¡¯ for my Verbs, ¡®Quick¡¯ and ¡®Quiet¡¯ for my Adjectives and then ¡®Device¡¯ and ¡®Cyber¡¯ for my Subjects, to really get a tremendous head start altogether. I could have vending machines dispense food and water without paying, open doors and deactivate cameras from a distance and similarly useful stuff. Plus, the Trait offered me an alternative livelihood. Writing and selling Quick-Hack routines, ICEs, or other software could make me a pretty penny, assuming I got good enough at it. Straight onto the shortlist, no questions asked. [Ghost] also catapulted itself onto my shortlist with undeniable allure. Do I even need to spell it out? Stealth is survival. This Trait not only allowed me to plot courses that would keep me out of harm''s way, but also offered a short-range dash that made me invisible, even if I dashed right through someone''s line of sight! Talk about a cheat code for life; this Trait was nothing short of a survivalist''s dream. Shortlisted, without a doubt! Last but not least, there was [Blademaster]¡ªa Trait I''d originally dismissed without a second thought. However, given the baggage that came with [Gunman] for someone in my precarious situation, the allure of [Blademaster] became increasingly hard to ignore. Let''s face it: A knife is far more concealable than a gun, and in the shady corners of Neo Avalis, subtlety could be a lifesaver. Beyond that, [Blades] and [Knives] were not just combat-focused Skills; they offered a wealth of utility. Take the [Sharpening] Perk from the [Knives] Skill, for example, which would empower me to refine any edge to its utmost sharpness. In theory, I could turn even a humble sheet of paper into a makeshift and deadly weapon! Okay, that might be a stretch, but you catch my drift. [Blades] had its own set of game-changing Perks, like [Iaijutsu], the wet-dream of every weeb. This Perk would enable me to unsheathe a melee weapon and strike in one fluid, lightning-fast motion¡ªperfect for catching those low-life scavs off guard in some dimly-lit alleyway. And that¡¯s not even touching upon the Trait''s five-times speed Ability, an invaluable "get out of jail free" card for when things go sideways! And don''t even get me started on the [Throwing] Skill. Seriously underrated by the player base, if you asked me. A knife hurled at quintuple speed? That''s not just a weapon; that''s a high-speed projectile with your name on it, bucko. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. So, what had initially been a complete non-starter to me had, after a full sweep of my Trait options, catapulted itself onto my shortlist with undeniable gravitas. It was almost like an underdog making its way to the top¡ªquietly yet decisively. The full sweep of my options¡­? No. The elephant in the room, I have not addressed yet. [Prodigy]. How could I overlook such a tantalising gem, especially given my current lacklustre Body Attribute? In this game world, the Body Attribute governs an exhaustive array of derivative Skills, touching on just about every basic function a human would need. Walking, running, lifting¡ªyou name it, Body covers it. The seductive allure of [Prodigy] lies in its potential to fast-track my progress in these areas, making life significantly smoother right from the get-go. But that''s exactly why I''m hesitant to go down that path. Let me elaborate: If [Prodigy] streamlines my growth in certain Skills, who¡¯s to say I won¡¯t slack off on the others? I''ve always had a penchant for the path of least resistance, often yielding to the siren call of shortcuts and easy fixes. I know where that modus operandi led me in my previous life, and I have no desire to replay those mistakes. So, as tempting as it might be to grab [Prodigy] by the horns, it''s a risk I couldn¡¯t afford. The temptation to revert to old, counterproductive habits¡ªto prioritise the "easy" over the "necessary"¡ªwas too great. The danger was in leaving the challenging but vital stuff to some mythical "future Sera" who never shows up to do the heavy lifting¡ªthat lazy bitch. Perhaps at Level 10, after some time immersed in this new reality and fully committed to a reformed life philosophy, I could entertain the thought of selecting [Prodigy]. But until that point, where I''ve deeply embedded this new ethos into my muscle fibres, neurons, and very soul, [Prodigy] stayed off the shortlist. And that''s final. Alright, so here we were¡ªmy shortlist: [Blademaster], [Ghost], [Gunman], [Hacker], [Hard To Kill], and [Polyglot]. I chewed on the thought for a second, letting the names swirl around in my mind. ''I should probably go for a one-two punch of one combat-centric Trait and one that leans more toward utility or Skill development,'' I reasoned, sifting through the options yet again like precious gems. On the combat front, it''s a face-off between [Blademaster], [Gunman], and [Hard To Kill]. And, much to my surprise, I was leaning hard toward [Blademaster]. Never thought I''d say that, but hear me out. At this critical juncture, what I needed was something that packs an immediate punch while offering the potential for future growth. [Gunman] had its merits, but it came with a glaring caveat: The necessity for guns, which, let''s be honest, were far out of my immediate reach. And even if I somehow got my hands on one, I had zero experience pulling a trigger. Sure, the System might guide me, but I''d still be stumbling around with entry-level Skills for a good while. The instant-reload? Nice to have, but it won''t help me in an ambush scenario the way [Blademaster] can, with its super-speed stab, slicing or throwing action. Then there''s [Hard To Kill]. Ah, the allure of being unnecessarily hard to kill... But let''s get real¡ª20% of nothing is still nothing. My Body Attribute was less than stellar, and until I bulked that up, [Hard To Kill] just wouldn¡¯t be able to shine. A hot pick for Level 10, no doubt, but for now, it was benched. With a weighty sigh, I went over the three choices again, feeling the gravity of this moment. No second chances, no mulligans. ''Blademaster, you''re up. You''re my combat pick,'' I declared internally, giving voice to my decision in the secluded echo chamber of my mind. I waited, listening for any twinge of regret. None. It felt right. It felt like the choice I had to make. Alright, one down, one to go. I''ve got my combat Trait in the bag; now I need to lock in something for utility or Skill enhancement. The lineup? [Ghost], [Hacker], and [Polyglot]. First up, [Ghost]. I couldn¡¯t deny that it felt like the gaming equivalent of a cheat code. The temptation to snap it up without a second thought was strong, yet I had to give a fair shake to the other options. [Hacker] opened up a world of possibilities, quite literally. The freedom it would grant me right out of the gate was nothing short of intoxicating. But the devil was in the details. I could acquire [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks] the old-fashioned way, and as for the actual Quick-Hack parts, they became relatively accessible once you''ve had a few creds rolling in. The only real loss would be missing out on dual Quick-Hacking, a sweet deal for sure, but let''s remember: To pull that off, I''d need a decked-out crown, and those bad boys didn¡¯t come cheap. So, maybe it was a powerhouse in the later stages of the game, but not an immediate game-changer; not something I couldn¡¯t live without. Then, finally, there was [Polyglot], the odd one out. I''ve always had this whimsical dream of being a linguistic chameleon, even in my past life, but I never followed through. Let''s be honest, sprinkling in some anime Japanese doesn''t count as being bilingual¡ªsorry, y¡¯alls. But here''s where [Polyglot] truly shined: It was like having an ear in every room. The citizens of Neo Avalis were mostly monolingual, maybe bilingual at best, and those translator modules? Premium-priced gadgets usually reserved for diplomancers or professional translators. What''s more, [Polyglot] would literally unlock different sectors of the city for me. Take the Japanese-inspired district¡ªhome to some of the top-tier cyberware you could find. If I couldn¡¯t speak the language, I''d be paying through the nose for a middleman''s services. Beyond just commerce, language could also be a lifesaver¡ªor a deal breaker¡ªin gang territories as well. Neo Avalis wasn¡¯t exactly a post-racial utopia, after all. If you couldn¡¯t speak the local dialect, you were straight up asking to get ganked. So where did that leave me? It was a tough call, no doubt, but the more I thought about it, the more layers of utility I saw in [Polyglot]. It was a Trait that not only opened doors but listened in on what''s being said behind them as well. Ah, but then there was still the enigma that was [Ghost]. The cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of Stealth Traits, an absolute daydream for every stealth-archer aficionado out there. Did I identify as a stealth-archer type of player? Hell no. But let''s be real: When it''s your life on the line, the ability to remain undetected is nothing short of a godsend. And don''t even get me started on its active Ability¡ªbeing able to effectively blink through people''s lines of sight over short distances. The sheer tactical advantage is ridiculous. So, what''s the million-cred question? Would [Ghost] serve me better than [Polyglot] in the immediate now? If I had even a sliver of information about Sera''s current predicament, this choice would be a cakewalk. But as it stands, I''m entrenched in the unforgiving process of character initialization¡ªno safety nets, no emergency exits. I dare not close the app, let alone budge from where I''m rooted. Who''s to say that the initialization window would stick around? It''s a digital limbo I can not afford to exit. Caught between these two intensely practical and game-changing Traits, I was at a standstill. A long, weighty sigh escaped my lips as frustration brewed within me. "Why does this have to be so damn difficult?" I muttered under my breath, my gaze stubbornly toggling between the two Trait options. Frustrating as it was, there was clearly only one real path forward: Let fate be the tiebreaker. If fate saw fit to plant me here, then it can bloody well help me navigate the next steps too. My mental cursor glid back to the apps section. I was careful to keep the G.E.M.A. app running in the background¡ªclosing it would be like throwing a match on a powder keg of missed opportunities. Among the "Fun&Games" apps, one had previously caught my eye: A coin flip app. I know, laughably simple. ''Alright, destiny, it''s your move. Heads for [Ghost], tails for [Polyglot],'' I resolved internally, taking a deep, steadying breath before letting the app work its digital magic. The screen flickered for a moment as the virtual coin prepared to ascend into the simulated air. In that split second before I tapped to flip it, my breath caught in my throat like a live wire¡ªtense, charged, ready to snap. Up the coin went, spinning in an elegant, almost poetic arc against a nebulous backdrop. One face of the coin was elegantly etched with artistic lettering and numerals, each stroke a masterpiece of digital calligraphy. The opposite side showcases a vivid, neon-hued depiction of a mythical dragon, its scales and wings meticulously detailed as if lifted from the pages of ancient folklore and reimagined in luminescent colour. For that brief second, as it soared and turned in mid-air, every pixel felt like a galaxy, each frame a snapshot of destiny in motion. My eyes were riveted, almost as if the coin held the key to my life''s unfolding narrative. It was not just a piece of digital metal; it was a verdict from the universe itself. The coin started its descent, rotating in slow-motion now as if it wanted to savour the tension, relishing in the anticipation. My heart pounded as though it wanted to leap out and influence the outcome. Then, with an almost audible (to me, at least) "clink," the coin landed¡ªproclaiming its choice. The universe had spoken. It was time to find out whether I would walk the path of the unseen [Ghost] or become a linguistically-gifted [Polyglot]. Either way, fate had set its course, and I was just along for the ride. Focusing my eyes on the coin¡¯s face, I saw its neon-coloured dragon emblem shining at me. Tails. ''Polyglot it is. A tip of the hat to you, fate,'' I thought to myself, swiftly navigating back to the G.E.M.A. app. With sure, decisive flicks of my mental cursor, I highlighted and locked in both [Blademaster] and [Polyglot], hovering for a moment over the ''Confirm Selection'' button.
[¡ª Warning ¡ª] Initial Trait Selection is irreversible. Are you certain you want to finalise your starter Traits as: [Blademaster], [Polyglot]? y/n
I paused and took a final, soul-searching breath, feeling almost as if I was saying a mournful goodbye to friends I''d never see again, as I considered the other tantalising Traits I was passing up for now. Then, with a sense of irrevocable commitment, I clicked ''Confirm'' one more time. The app momentarily froze, exhibiting the sort of twitchy, glitch-like hiccup that was practically a staple in every cyberpunk narrative, from film to video game and anime alike. Almost instantly thereafter, my mind was flooded¡ªan overwhelming torrent of new information and capabilities cascading into my consciousness like a data waterfall. My neural pathways lit up as if electrified. First, the [Blademaster] Trait took hold. In an instant, it was as if every nerve ending, every muscle fibre in my body knew the intimate dance of blades. The nuanced grip variations for holding a knife for slashing versus thrusting, the precise angle needed for maximum penetration when throwing¡ªit was all there, encoded in me like instinct. It wasn''t as if I''d learned these things; it was as though my body had always known them but had just now remembered. It was ancient muscle memory, instantly recalled and as natural as breathing. Then came [Polyglot], and for a second, my head spun so viciously that I teetered on the edge of blacking out. For this one instance, I thanked the lords above that I was in a wheelchair, because knowing my luck, I would have split my head open from the inevitable fall. Languages flooded my mind in a torrential downpour. Japanese, Mandarin, Russian, Arabic, and so many others¡ªthey weren''t just words and grammar rules but entire cultural contexts, idioms, and tonal nuances. They seeped into my thoughts like ink in water, fast and irrevocable. I now understood these languages as if I were born speaking them, an instinctive part of my mental makeup. I was left gasping, almost as if I''d sprinted a marathon. "Wow," I managed to huff out between heavy breaths, still reeling from the cognitive overload, "I''m so glad I didn''t go for [Gunman]. The sheer weight of tactical reloads, sight alignment, shooting stances and God knows what else would''ve probably knocked me out cold." I chuckled at the thought, but there was a tinge of genuine relief. This is my new reality, wild and almost overwhelming, yet part of me now¡ªjust like [Blademaster] and [Polyglot]. A deluge of System notifications appeared before my eyes, informing me of all the different Skills I had unlocked.
[System]: [Blades] Skill unlocked. [System]: [Knives] Skill unlocked. [System]: [Throwing] Skill unlocked.
[System]: [Blades] has reached Level 1. This is the maximum Level available until your Reflex Attribute has improved to at least Level 2. [System]: [Knives] has reached Level 1. This is the maximum Level available until your Reflex Attribute has improved to at least Level 2. [System]: [Throwing] has reached Level 1. This is the maximum Level available until your Reflex Attribute has improved to at least Level 2.
Another mountain of notifications followed right behind, informing me of all the languages that I could now apparently speak, write and understand. Almost immediately, I found myself muttering in a kaleidoscope of languages, each phrase fluid and perfect¡ªfrom the lilting intonations of Italian to the harsh, guttural tones of German. I even tossed in a sentence or two of Swahili, just for the sheer joy of it. Could you really blame me for that? An ecstatic burst of laughter rippled through me, as unrestrained as a waterfall. "This is fucking awesome!" I exclaimed, still awestruck by the newfound depth and breadth of my capabilities. The world felt different now, as if it had expanded in a thousand different directions all at once. And I couldn''t help but revel in it. "What''s so ''fucking awesome,'' sis?" a deeper-set voice suddenly interrupted, punctuating the air as the front door of our cramped apartment creaked open. The voice jolted me from my euphoric reverie, like a splash of cold water on my face. My eyes darted instinctively toward the doorway, where I found a figure leaning against the frame, eyes glinting with a perplexing blend of relief and bewilderment. His crooked smile was almost infectious, inviting me into the familiarity of a past I couldn''t fully recall. It had to be my brother¡ªGabriel, or ''Gab'' as I apparently called him¡­ Chapter 4 - A Normal Family In a sudden surge of panic, I found myself at a loss for what to do. This guy¡ªwho I supposed was my brother¡ªhad not only managed to sneak up on me in a moment of an embarrassing display of amazement, but was also a total stranger in my world! My instinctive response was, embarrassingly, to hide. But given that I was confined to a wheelchair, my feeble attempt at concealment amounted to nothing more than clumsily putting my hands in front of my face. Yeah, as if that would render me invisible or something. Frankly, I had zero clue what the hell I was doing. Any remnants of panic begun to evaporate immediately when a roar of laughter erupted from the doorway. The guy¡ªpresumably my brother, Gabriel¡ªwas practically doubling over, guffawing at my awkward spectacle. The nerve! My fleeting panic was instantaneously supplanted by a surge of indignation directed at this unfamiliar boy. "What''s so funny, Gab¡ªriel?" I blurted out, my voice tinged with more than a hint of annoyance. Talk about first impressions. I''d nailed it, alright. Except not. I''d stumbled over his nickname, realised mid-sentence how ridiculous it sounded, and opted for the full name instead. Which, of course, made zero sense, since ''Gab'' and ''Gabriel'' have entirely different vocal cadences. So, yeah. Stellar first impression, Sera. This only fanned the flames of his already uncontrollable laughter, causing him to literally double over, clutching the edge of the kitchen counter near the entryway for support. The sound of his unrestrained mirth was like a breath of fresh air¡ªso genuine and unburdened, it made me realise I couldn''t remember the last time I''d heard someone laugh like that. An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, drawn out by the sheer, gleeful abandon he exhibited. There he was, sinking to the floor, his back resting against the counter as he fought to catch his breath between spasms of laughter. While he was still lost in his riotous laughter, I took the moment to really look at him. Gabriel, or ''Gab'' as I was apparently supposed to call him, seemed every bit the product of this cyberpunk world that I had expected him to be. At 16, he already had a rebellious edge that screamed ''youthful defiance.'' His hair was an undercut, the sides almost buzzed to the scalp while the top flowed in a chaotic tumble of curls that gleamed an unnatural orange¡ªlikely some sort of nano-dye. Piercings dotted his ears, and I even spotted a subtle nose ring glinting in the dim light of our cramped apartment. His attire, a blend of tech and fashion, complemented his edgy look. A black, sleeveless vest revealed arms crisscrossed with what seemed to be thin, bioluminescent tattoos, casting a soft glow against his skin. Underneath the vest, a graphic tee sported some inscrutable, futuristic band logo. He wore baggy, ripped cargo pants that looked like they had already been worn for years. The ensemble was completed by a pair of heavy combat boots, scuffed from what I could only assume were many nights of running through less-than-savoury parts of the city. As he finally caught his breath and rose, steadying himself against the counter, I realised that his eyes¡ªa bright, electric orange that matched his hair¡ªheld a glimmer of something that I couldn''t quite place. Mischief, perhaps. Whatever it was, it intrigued me, adding a layer of complexity to this brother I didn''t remember but, deep inside, felt I should know. As his eyes met mine, they flickered briefly, conducting a rapid visual sweep over me. I felt an uncomfortable vulnerability under that gaze, but the intent behind it was clear: This was the assessment of an older brother checking for obvious harm or distress in his younger sister. As he moved closer, my muscles involuntarily tensed, my grip tightening on the armrests of the wheelchair. Despite the burgeoning realisation that he was supposed to be family, he was, to me, still an enigma wrapped in a riddle. I''d just met the guy, after all. He halted midway, catching the subtle cues of my discomfort¡ªa pause that spoke volumes. Good on him. It''s a strong indicator of decent upbringing: If you sense you''re making someone, especially someone in a vulnerable position compared to yourself, uneasy, put on the brakes, buddy! ¡°How are you feeling, Sera?¡± He asked after a moment, his voice laced with genuine concern. It was honestly surprising how much that simple question impacted me. When was the last time anyone had genuinely cared about how I felt? Had actually, genuinely and truly, wanted to know my thoughts? I found myself fighting back tears involuntarily. ¡®Why the fuck are you so emotional about this, Sera?!¡¯ I chided myself, trying to cover my emotional vulnerability with self-directed anger¡ªa true staple of mine. Suddenly, I felt surprisingly strong arms pull me into a gentle hug; now all bets were off. To make matters worse, it seemed that somehow, somewhere, my body¡ªSera¡¯s body¡ªremembered the comforting touch of her brother. It started raining in our apartment right away, like a dam had burst that had kept the floods at bay for far too long. Of course, being the strong, independent woman that I was, I absolutely did not cry. Not a single tear. Nope, not one. After regaining some semblance of composure, I ventured softly, "I''m fine now... Thanks, Gabriel." He gave me one last reassuring squeeze before he cautiously retreated, distancing himself by a few measured steps. Clearly, he still remembered my earlier tension¡ªkudos to mom and dad for teaching him boundaries! For a few seconds, our eyes locked in an awkward tableau, as if searching for some flicker of familial recognition. Finally, he averted his gaze and awkwardly broached the elephant in the room. "So... Dad mentioned you''re dealing with some kind of amnesia? Is that why our conversation feels a bit, um, off-kilter?" Seizing the opportunity he''d presented, I jumped right in. "Yeah, I don''t remember a thing... I''m sorry. If Oliv¡ªdad hadn''t told me I had a brother, I wouldn''t even recognize you. My memory''s completely gone." Laying it out like that felt peculiar, disorienting even. It wasn''t the half-truth that bothered me; I had no qualms about bending the truth when needed. But presenting my situation in such blunt terms felt odd in itself. The expressions hushing over his face as I spoke, a blend of confusion, hurt, and a dash of existential pondering, didn''t help settle my discomfort either. Feeling the emotional scales tip, I sensed it was my turn to offer some comfort. "Don''t worry, I''m sure I''ll start remembering things soon! You''ll help me piece it all back together, won''t you?" I said, infusing my voice with an extra dollop of sugary reassurance. The effect was instantaneous; a glimmer of relief washed over his face as he responded, "Um, yeah, absolutely. I''m here for you, sis. You know that. Ahh¡­ Well, I guess now you know that?" His slightly awkward fumbling for words elicited a laugh from me, lifting the atmosphere even more. I had to keep in mind that beneath the layers of street-smart savvy and well-placed boundaries¡ªan impressive feat for a teenager in this chaotic, cyberpunk world¡ªlay a simple 16-year-old boy who had just been hit with the reality that his younger sister had completely wiped him from her memory¡ªinvoluntarily, of course. Seizing the opportune moment to dig for some much-needed insights, I latched onto the chance like a pitbull with a chew toy. "So, fill me in on me¡ªon Sera. Maybe hearing about myself could give my memory a much-needed kick?" Gabriel''s expression shifted into a pensive one as he deftly navigated around my wheelchair, making his way to the worn, familiar couch¡ªthe same stage for my laughably ambitious workout attempts¡ªand sank into its inviting, yet definitely thoroughly worn, cushions. "Where to even begin," he mused, his eyes unfocused as if scanning the far reaches of his thoughts. Minutes ticked by in a slow crawl, and I was just on the brink of prodding him¡ªworried that he had somehow drifted into a mental void¡ªwhen his voice broke the silence. ¡°So¡­ You¡¯re a bit of a blank.¡± Wha¡­! How dare he! Here I had been bracing myself for some deeply profound self-revelation, and he slingshots ''blank'' at me? And no, blank was not a terrible way to censor an insult. ¡®Blank¡¯ was one of those cyberpunk genre-typical slang terms. In the world of Neon Dragons, you called someone a blank if they were an absolute, complete and utter, moron. As in, ¡°they are completely blank in the head¡±. My friends and I had started using blank as a friendly insult among each other in my past life after the release of the game as well. It was quick, easy to use and got the point across! "Also, you''re kind of a bitch," he tacked on almost instantaneously, sending the final straw crashing onto my already fractured patience. Just as I was about to angrily roll my wheelchair toward him¡ªfully intent on administering a thrashing for the ages¡ªhis palms shot up in a defensive surrender, and he hurriedly elaborated. "Look, don''t shoot the messenger! You asked, and I''m laying it out: You''re a blank bitch. You''ve got this whole lone-wolf persona going on, always entangled in your own web of stuff. A teenage rebel in perpetual opposition to, well, everything. When mom or dad request anything from you, your knee-jerk reaction is to do precisely the opposite¡ªjust for the sheer pleasure of being contrary. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "And if they try to extend a helping hand? Forget about it. You''re too mature¡ªtoo self-sufficient¡ªto need assistance from anyone, thank you very much. Particularly in this last year, you''ve pulled away, creating a growing chasm not just between you and them, but also between us. I won''t lie; it''s stung." He paused, as if grappling with some internal disquiet. "You kept me in the loop for the most part, until approximately two months ago. I thought maybe you needed your space, so I backed off, but then..." His voice wavered, tinged with a cocktail of guilt and regret. It clicked. The pieces of the puzzle abruptly fell into place. "Then I vanished. Ended up comatose in some forgotten alley¡¯s trash can," I concluded, my voice laden with a newfound sense of gravity. "Yeah... I''m so sorry, Sera," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes averted to the worn, grimy carpet that adorned our apartment''s floor. The weight of self-blame hung palpably in the air around him, a thick fog of guilt for a tragedy he had no part in¡ªat least as far as I was aware. I found myself grappling for the right words, stuck in a conundrum of how to ease his misplaced guilt. What could I possibly even say? ''It''s not your fault''? In a situation as complex as this, such a statement seemed like trivial platitudes at best, and condescending reassurance at worst. At that moment, I was uncomfortably aware of my own emotional ineptitude. Comforting people, particularly when it came to such heavy emotional burdens, was never my strong suit¡ªeven in my past life, I was more likely to face a problem with action rather than empathy. Yet, here was my brother, clearly in pain, and I was out of my depth on how to make it better. An awkward tension stretched between us, his eyes still glued to the floor as if the right words to say might suddenly manifest there. I rolled my eyes at my own lack of emotional acumen and finally decided to cut through the dense atmosphere the only way I knew how¡ªwith bad humour. "Well... Maybe I can stop being such a blank bitch then," I said, a playful grin tugging at my lips. "Since I don''t even remember being one, I''d probably suck at imitating it. Maybe I can try being a rockstar or something this time around, instead?" Gabriel let out a snort, momentarily caught off guard by my audacity. ''Mission accomplished,'' I mused internally, a self-satisfied smirk lighting up my face. "You''re such a blank, Sera," he said, but the laughter dancing in his eyes belied his words. "Seriously though, I was scared you were... y¡¯know.... I''m just really, genuinely relieved you¡¯re okay." Unable to resist the perfect set-up, I arched an eyebrow in mock-exasperation and theatrically lifted my hands towards my wheelchair-bound legs, palms up in a ''you''re kidding, right?'' gesture. The unspoken irony hung in the air like a thick fog, but if it got him to smile, even for a moment, it was worth it. For a split second, Gabriel''s eyes went saucer-like, as if he''d tripped on a social landmine. But when he caught sight of my playfully exaggerated expression, his anxiety dissolved, replaced by a chuckle. "You''ve developed a sense of humour, I see¡­ Not sure how to feel about that one, yet. I will clarify¡ªI''m glad you''re mostly okay, aside from being wheelchair-bound for the moment, you irredeemable blank." ''Nailed it,'' I thought, mentally awarding myself points for comedic timing. Despite my best efforts to maintain a neutral expression, a broad, smug grin broke through, practically carving itself onto my face. And why shouldn''t it? It had been an eternity since I''d shared a genuine, unguarded moment with another human being, let alone a family member. It felt surprisingly good. "So, any word from the docs about your legs?" he inquired, glancing dubiously at the battered wheelchair that looked like it had been salvaged from the set of a dystopian movie. "I mean, you''re not going to be confined to that relic forever, are you?" He seemed to catch his own unintended insensitivity a beat too late and hastily added, "Not that it would be a big deal! I''d be more than willing to continue to help you out, of course!" The sensation was odd, being tiptoed around by Gabriel, who wasn¡¯t really my brother but may as well have been for all the emotional complexity of the situation. While I understood his hesitation, his cautiousness was grating. I realised I didn''t want to be seen as fragile or different just because I was temporarily tied to this creaking, outdated wheelchair. "That thing''s practically an antique," I conceded, my gaze dropping to the dilapidated wheelchair that creaked and groaned with every movement, as if it were protesting its continued existence¡ªmuch like old me, back in my studio apartment. Huh? It¡¯s like poetry. "But I won''t be confined to it for long! The doctors are predicting a couple months of physical therapy. But just between us," I leaned in slightly, conspiratorially, "I''m planning on smashing their estimates. I''ve already made significant progress today." My smile grew wider, more self-satisfied, bordering on downright smug. What? I deserved to be smug about this! You have no idea how difficult it had been to get those first 100 XP, okay? Don¡¯t judge me. "Really? That''s incredible, Sera! What did you do today? Care to demonstrate?" His voice brimmed with the kind of enthusiasm I could only liken to an exuberant golden retriever, albeit one dressed in the peculiar patchwork of cyberpunk fashion clearly chosen by a 16-year-old boy. "Don''t mind if I do! Make some room, good sir!" I declared with an over-the-top flourish, manoeuvring my clunky wheelchair toward the couch. The chair protested my movements with an unholy chorus of squeals and groans that filled the air. Such elegance! Such grace! Taking my position in front of the couch, my eyes narrowed as they locked onto my legs. This was my moment, my chance to make him regret calling me a blank! I focused with an intensity I hadn''t mustered in a long time¡ªeven more than during my earlier workouts. After all, it was showtime! Summoning every ounce of willpower, I clenched my jaw and stared at my legs as if I could will them into motion. It was a Herculean task, each muscle fibre seemingly coated in molasses, resisting my mental commands. My hands gripped the armrests of the wheelchair so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Sweat began to form on my forehead, each droplet coalescing into a small army that soon began its descent down my face. My body shook from the exertion, but my legs remained frustratingly inert, like leaden weights refusing to budge. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gabriel''s face morph into a mask of concern, his eyes filled with a trepidation he couldn''t quite hide. Yet, to his credit, he held his silence, recognizing this struggle as my own private battle, one that I needed to wage myself. Finally, with a roar of effort that seemed to emanate from the very core of my being, my legs started moving upward. It was as if I had broken some invisible barrier, and with a triumphant, albeit painfully slow, surge, my legs crested the top of the couch cushion. Letting out a war cry that could rival any ancient champion, I let my legs collapse onto the couch, every muscle in my body quivering in the aftermath of my struggle. I looked up at Gabriel, my face flushed but triumphant, eyes alight with a feral kind of joy. "Wow, that was, uh, certainly an experience," he finally said, his eyes a blend of astonishment and confusion. "You really put your all into that, didn''t you?" His words were commendable but lacked the oomph, the sheer ecstatic energy I''d expected. It was as if he couldn''t fully grasp the Herculean effort it had taken for me to perform that simple act. But then it hit me: Why would he? He hadn''t been at the hospital listening to the prognosis. He hadn''t been there when I''d mustered my first ounce of strength, seeing how much I struggled to even move my legs the tiniest amount. A self-deprecating thought floated into my consciousness: ''Maybe I really am a blank.'' It occurred to me that I''d been foolish to expect him to mirror my own emotional whirlwind. Gabriel was obviously proud, but he couldn''t fathom the depths of the struggle I''d just surmounted. And that wasn''t his fault; it was simply a chasm of experience that neither of us could bridge in that moment. The real kicker? No XP-induced dopamine rush either. Apparently, my exertion hadn''t met the mystical criteria for dowsing me in that sweet, sweet XP. Which was fair. After all, the first time I got that notification, it took a pair of these monumental leg-raises. Still upset about it, however. It doesn¡¯t need to make sense, okay? "Yeah, you''d be surprised. When I got home, my legs were like noodles¡ªcouldn''t even twitch ''em a millimetre," I admitted, struggling to convey the enormity of what felt like a landmark achievement. The irony was palpable: There I was, basking in the glow of a minor miracle, yet somehow unable to share its full weight with Gabriel. We whiled away the next hour, our conversation ebbing and flowing through tales of my hospital journey, updates on my rehab progress¡ªretold by yours truly in the most fantastical ways possible¡ª, and a smattering of casual, inconsequential subjects. My mind teemed with questions I yearned to fire his way, but the moment felt too precious to disrupt. I was taking a respite, and, God knows, I needed it. Ever since that nightmarish episode back in my studio, life had heaved a slew of inexplicable, downright surreal experiences at me. So outlandish, in fact, that I still wondered whether I was just lost in some vivid dream or not. And so, there we were, just shooting the breeze, our casual banter filling the room until, at some point, the front door opened and Oliver returned home. Oliver burst through the door like a squall ripping through an unsealed window, the impact of his entrance echoing as the door slammed against the back wall. He scanned the room frantically, his eyes finally landing on Gabriel and me, a mixture of confusion and a hint of fear playing across his face. "Everything alright, Dad?" Gabriel broke the uneasy silence that followed, his voice tinged with both concern and perplexity. ''Good, it''s not just me who thought that entrance was fucking weird,'' I mused, silently grateful that Gabriel took the reins in navigating this odd moment. Oliver''s eyes then welled up, further warping the room''s atmosphere. At least he shattered the silence. "Sera... My baby! You''re actually here! I thought it was some cruel daydream at the office... I wished for it so hard, but couldn''t trust my own senses. I..." Overwhelmed, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks. His gaze stayed glued to me, as if I might evaporate should he dare blink or look away. Almost instantly, Gabriel was there, kneeling beside him, offering solace and whispered reassurances. "It''s okay, Dad. She''s back. Sera''s back." I felt like an impostor caught in a floodlight. Oliver wasn''t celebrating my return; he was celebrating Sera''s¡ªa girl I could never be. A girl that would never, ever return. It was just me now. An errant Soul in the body of his baby girl. This might as well have been a private, sacrosanct moment between a father and his lost child, and yet, here I was, an awkward bystander with a front-row seat. The worst part? As much as I wanted to, I couldn''t just get up and leave, and not solely because my legs had yet to receive that memo. This was my family now, for better or worse. "Hello, da¡ªuh, Oliver," I stammered, lifting my hands for a timid wave as I sat anchored to my rickety wheelchair before the couch. I had intended to say ''Dad,'' I really had, but the words stuck in my throat. It felt premature to wade into that depth of intimacy, despite the ache to alleviate Oliver''s palpable emotional turmoil. He seemed like a decent, caring man, deserving of that connection. Hearing my voice¡ªor rather, Sera''s voice¡ªmust''ve ripped away the last shreds of Oliver''s emotional restraint. He shattered into a heightened fit of sobs, his cries heavy and agonised.
After what felt like an eternity, or perhaps just thirty-plus minutes, Gabriel managed to pacify him enough to hoist him off the dingy apartment floor. He guided Oliver to the couch I was facing and sat down beside him. An uncomfortable silence hung thick in the air, each of us seemingly ensnared in our own thorny thoughts. Oliver''s gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on me, as Gabriel''s eyes flicked between us, and I found myself staring at random objects around the room, avoiding eye contact like it was a fatal disease. ''Seriously, what the hell is this? I signed up for cyberpunk escapades, not a prime-time drama featuring the world''s most awkward family reunion,'' I inwardly groaned, wrestling with the tension that gripped the room like a straitjacket. Thankfully, the universe granted me a reprieve. The apartment door emitted the characteristic beeping of a biometric lock disengaging, followed by the staccato clack of heels against the concrete floor of the hallway. As I laboriously swivelled my wheezing wheelchair to face the newcomer, a voice¡ªdistinctly feminine yet imbued with an icy neutrality¡ªfilled the room. It was the sort of voice that had navigated boardrooms and silenced disagreements, a voice accustomed to wielding words like weapons. Cutting through the still-palpable tension, it addressed me directly. No inquiry, no mere utterance, but a calculated challenge that landed like a gauntlet. "Daughter." Chapter 5 - A Normal Dinner The air in the room seemed to crystallise, each molecule hanging suspended in an icy stillness. All eyes were on the woman who had just entered, a figure who had effortlessly claimed the space as her own. This was Sera''s mother¡ªor at least, the woman who filled that role in this strange new reality¡ªValeria Vildea. She stood there in heels that were high, but not ostentatious, designed more for impact than for show. Her face was an immaculate canvas, makeup applied with the precision of a surgeon, highlighting sharp cheekbones and steel-grey eyes that had clearly seen their share of battles¡ªcorporate or otherwise. Her hair was a similarly disciplined cascade of dark waves, as if even her tresses knew better than to step out of line. She wore an impeccably tailored suit, the abyss-black fabric shimmering with an understated elegance that screamed expense. Masterfully incorporated into the suit itself was a sleek emblem right above the heart, a complex design of silver and neon blue that immediately drew my eyes, for I recognized it immediately. It was a modernist atom, its nucleus replaced by a stylized "E," while miniature nodes resembling digital data points revolved around it. Fine strings of glowing binary code seemed to orbit these nodes, all set against a backdrop that resembled a digital grid. It was encased in a sharp hexagonal frame, completing the unmistakable look for the corporation¡¯s branding. That emblem was more than just simple corporate branding, however; it was a statement of ownership, but also one of implicit power and responsibility. At that moment, I realised she was someone who put her career before parenthood. Her stance, her attire, her entire aura spoke of a life committed to climbing the corporate ladder, not tending to scraped knees or comforting a child after a bad dream. She looked like she could dismantle a hostile takeover as easily as most people could dismantle a sandwich. And here she was, staring at me, her daughter, seated in an old, squeaky wheelchair. I couldn''t shake the feeling that in her eyes, I was currently registering less as a long-lost child and more as a variable in an equation; an element to be managed or, worse, mitigated. In her world of corpo backstabbing, economical and societal strength and capability, where did a wheelchair-bound daughter fit? I felt as though I had already been assessed, categorised, and filed away as worthless trash in the span of a heartbeat. Honestly, I was thoroughly intimidated to my very core, and I wasn''t ashamed to admit it. Never in my life had I encountered someone radiating such a palpable level of intensity. She emanated an aura of unspoken threats and domineering authority. Sera¡¯s mother had a way of making her presence felt, of making sure you knew exactly where the power dynamics lay¡ªand it wasn''t with you. Perhaps it was a lingering sentiment from my past life, or maybe just the innate rebelliousness that comes with teenage hormones, but a part of me¡ªdeep down¡ªfelt a compelling urge to challenge her authority, even if only in some minuscule way. It wasn''t born of spite, but rather from an instinctual understanding that this was my singular opportunity to earn not Valeria''s approval, but her cautious, tentative tolerance. The one thing a career-driven corpo woman valued more than anything else, was a promising asset, after all. Mustering the willpower to meet Valeria''s eyes head-on felt almost as daunting as the earlier struggle to lift my legs onto the couch. The subtle upward twitch of her left eyebrow, almost imperceptible but loaded with scrutiny, threatened to demolish the fragile fortress of my resolve. But this was a one-shot game; there were no second chances here. So, clinging to my wits, I responded, my voice mimicking her own detached tone, though quivering ever so subtly under the immense mental strain of the situation. "Mother." The word hung in the air like a lead balloon, seeming to suck even more oxygen out of a room already thick with tension. I felt a constriction around my chest, an uncanny echo of that claustrophobic sensation I''d experienced back in my studio apartment. It was as if the walls were closing in, the ceiling dropping lower, the very atmosphere congealing into a viscous substance I had to wade through. I could almost hear my own heartbeat throbbing in my ears, each pulse a desperate plea for relief. Then, in a moment that lasted both an eternity and a fraction of a second, Valeria''s eyes narrowed. It was as though she were peeling back the layers of my psyche, each gaze a laser cutting deeper into my core. And then, for the briefest of moments, her lips curled into the most imperceptible of smiles. It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, like a flicker of lightning in a stormy sky, but its impact was undeniable. The atmosphere, while not lightened, at least seemed breathable again. I exhaled, not even realising I''d been holding my breath. Stiff as a general barking orders to her troops, Valeria declared, "Darling, be a gem and procure dinner for us. I will be in my office and I will not be disturbed for the next twenty-eight minutes. Gabriel, take care of your sister and help her get her bearings. Make sure she is presentable for dinner." Without waiting for confirmation or even a nod, she pivoted gracefully and made her way toward the one room in the apartment that had remained mysteriously locked since my arrival with Oliver. The whiplash was palpable. To think that a woman with such an icy demeanour could refer to Oliver¡ªthe man who had welcomed me home with an emotional breakdown¡ªas "darling" and ¡°gem¡± without a hint of sarcasm or irony left me baffled. Could this enigma of a woman really be the same person married to Oliver? I had only had a brief brush with her presence, but the layers of her complexity seemed to multiply exponentially with each word from her mouth. The moment the door to Valeria''s sanctum¡ªher office¡ªclicked shut, the atmosphere in the room decompressed as if a pressure valve had been released. I sagged in my wheelchair, the tension draining out of me so quickly it left me feeling vacuous and spent. ''What a force of nature,'' I marvelled to myself, caught between sheer awe and a residue of terror. Gabriel broke the silence, his voice tinged with the same disquiet I had been grappling with. "What the fuck was that?" "Seriously? You''re asking me? That woman is my mother?!" I retorted, my nerves still vibrating like taut strings from the earlier confrontation. Oliver remained seated on the couch, his face a mask of disbelief. ''Did I push too far?'' I wondered, observing his expression. ''Maybe I should have held back, gauged the dynamics of this old-new family before attempting to win Valeria over. I hope this doesn¡¯t hurt my relationship with Oliver¡­'' Gabriel let out an uneasy laugh. "Yeah, she''s... she''s our mom. She''s not around much due to work, but her influence is omnipresent. She''s the financial pillar of our home. Her word? It''s the law. But she''s more forgiving than she lets on, as long as you meet her lofty¡ªyet, honestly quite reasonable¡ªexpectations." His voice trailed off, but the subtext hung heavy in the air. "So, I''ve been a chronic disappointment, haven''t I?" I ventured, fishing for confirmation. Gabriel offered a reluctant, apologetic nod. "Perhaps this new-and-improved Sera will finally stop being a disappointment then, huh," I quipped, trying to leaven the gravity of the moment. But the levity backfired, spectacularly. Oliver''s face twisted into a scowl, and for the first time since our meeting that morning, he raised his voice with an unexpected vigour. "You take that back right now, Seraphine!" His words sliced through the room, arresting everyone in their tracks. "Just because Valeria measures worth differently does not make you worthless! I won''t tolerate that sort of self-deprecation in this home. Do you hear me?!" Rendered speechless, I stared at Oliver, grappling with this newfound dimension of his character¡ªan unexpected manifestation of paternal love that was as riveting as it was jarring. The polarity between him and Valeria seemed almost comically extreme. It boggled the mind to consider how two such disparate souls had ever converged, let alone committed to a life together. Gathering my composure, I cautiously said, "Ah, I''m sorry. It won''t happen again." I aimed to diffuse the mounting tension, to pull us back from the emotional precipice we teetered on. Gabriel, ever the peacemaker, placed a calming hand on Oliver''s trembling shoulders. The physical touch seemed to serve as a tactile reminder of the day''s many upheavals, my memory loss included. His face crumpled, contorting into an expression of self-reproach as he began to stammer out a flurry of apologies. His words veered from "failed father" to "undeserving" and even "worthless," each utterance laced with a profound self-disdain. It was a jarring contradiction¡ªthis man who had just so vehemently defended my worth, now denigrating his own. ''Live by your own doctrine, Oliver. For fuck''s sake,'' I thought to myself, suppressing a chuckle born from the sheer absurdity of the past few minutes. Gratefully, it was Gabriel who again intervened to defuse the situation¡ªa debt I was amassing to him that I knew I''d need to repay at some point. "So, Dad, any ideas what Mum would want for dinner?" he interjected, reminding Oliver of the domestic edicts laid down by the family''s unyielding taskmaster. Seeming as though he''d been jolted awake from a disorienting daydream, Oliver swiftly regained his poise and rose from the couch. "Right, I''ll go ''procure'' our dinner, as your mother would insist on wording it," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of irony and mirth. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He looked at Gabriel and then me, eyes lingering as if half-expecting some flashpoint of conflict to erupt between us. "Gabriel, assist your sister in preparing for dinner. Your mother appears to take a rather specific interest in her situation tonight." With that, he made his way to the door, murmuring so faintly it was almost lost to the air, "...a proper family dinner again?!" The door closed behind him, leaving Gabriel and me in the suddenly too-quiet apartment. "So, that was a crash course in our family dynamics, wasn''t it?" I muttered, still reeling from the emotional gauntlet I''d just run through. "Yeah, I didn''t anticipate your standoff with Mum. That was... unexpected to say the least," Gabriel said, a note of genuine awe tinting his voice. "I don''t know what came over me, to be honest. It just felt like the thing to do. What was my usual M.O. with her?" I inquired, curiosity overtaking my caution. Gabriel chuckled, an awkward but genuine smile transforming his face. "Well, there were generally two modes for you. You''d either shrink into yourself, sort of wilting under her gaze, or you''d find an excuse to be literally anywhere else but in her vicinity." I winced internally, picturing the tense, awkward family dinners that must have ensued from such behaviour. "Well, here''s to hoping today''s first impression might be a new beginning. Maybe she and I could find some common ground. God knows why I acted the way I did before." A momentary silence stretched between us, Gabriel''s eyes studying me as if trying to unlock a puzzle. Finally, he broke the silence, "You really have changed, haven''t you?" My breath stocked in my chest, as I felt like I''d been caught, laid bare. But just as quickly, I realised he was referring to the change post-incident, not the utterly unimaginable truth about what really had happened to Sera. No one could fathom that level of absurdity. After all, I was basically living a sci-fi fantasy anime at this point. And somehow, that thought didn''t feel as unsettling as it probably should have. "I wouldn''t know," I retorted, punctuating the statement with a wry, self-deprecating smirk. Gabriel sighed audibly, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as if searching for divine guidance, muttering something about ¡®blank¡¯ under his breath. ¡°Alright, time to get you prepped for dinner," he said, rising from the couch with a smile. I felt a swell of gratitude when he made no move to handle my wheelchair. Instead, he took a few purposeful steps, positioning himself at a respectful distance, allowing me the space to wheel myself toward our shared room. As I manoeuvred into motion, a thought struck me: ''How the fuck did Gabriel evolve into such a remarkably balanced and considerate 16-year-old? In a cyberpunk universe at that!'' It genuinely baffled me, given the polarised parenting styles we apparently grew up with. Of all the enigmas in this bewildering family tableau, Gabriel was the riddle whose sum didn''t quite add up the most, but I could confidently say that I appreciated his existence. As I wheeled myself into our communal room, Gabriel trailed in my wake, softly shutting the door behind us. The closure unveiled a smudged mirror-screen, adorning the door''s reverse like some high-tech relic of vanity. "Okay, time to get you dolled up for the family dinner," he announced, motioning toward the wardrobe with a dramatic flourish.
About thirty minutes later, Gabriel and I emerged from our room, transformed and ready for the family dinner ritual. The entire affair felt almost absurdly formal, but according to Gabriel, such were the traditions when Valeria managed to be home for a complete family dinner¡ªan exceedingly rare occurrence, I was told. She was, naturally, the one who insisted on the evening''s pomp and circumstance. Feeling strangely out of place, I guided my wheelchair down the hallway, attired in an elegant, cerulean evening dress. It wasn''t anything extravagant by the world''s high-society standards, but compared to my old-world clothing and the other options I had glimpsed in the wardrobe, this dress was the epitome of sophistication. It elegantly clung to my anorexic figure, falling gracefully in slight ruffles toward the hem, adding an incongruous note of luxury to my wheeled mode of transport. Beside me, Gabriel was a study in young sartorial splendour, donned in what could be described as a cyberpunk-style take on a tuxedo. Lacking the bow tie, his outfit nonetheless boasted a clearly expensive cut and make. The silk lapels of his tailored jacket caught the light, contrasting sharply with his usually casual appearance. It was obvious that the tuxedo had been purchased a while ago; adolescence had worked its cruel trick of elongation, making him slightly too large for the ensemble. Both of us had our hair styled¡ªmine was pulled back in a simple yet elegant twist, while Gabriel''s was slicked back for once, revealing the forehead usually hidden under casual locks. He had even temporarily dyed his hair black with some nano-dye! Our faces were touched up with minimal makeup: A light dusting of powder to reduce shine and a dash of colour on the lips. And so we arrived in the kitchen¡ªa painfully mundane setting for our finery¡ªonly to find the table, a scuffed and well-worn piece of furniture, laid out with food that clearly had its origins in a local street vendor¡¯s stall. The juxtaposition between our dressed-up selves and the casual dinner setting was so jarring, it verged on the surreal. I couldn''t help but muse, ''What the actual fuck is even happening right now?'' as I took in Oliver and Valeria across the table, completing the evening''s odd tableau. Oliver, always the softer presence of the two, wore a simple, charcoal-grey suit, well-tailored but lacking in flair. His demeanour was one of understated decency, and his attire seemed to echo that sentiment. It was a suit that spoke of reliability and comfort, not of opulence. Valeria, on the other hand, was nothing short of a regal vision. Her evening gown was a rich burgundy, a colour that matched her air of authority. It hugged her figure in all the right places before cascading down to the floor in an elegant train. The gown was sleeveless, revealing toned arms that could''ve belonged to a queen or a warrior¡ªperhaps both. The fabric seemed to shimmer as she moved, as if woven from threads of subdued power. Her jewellery was minimal but carefully chosen: a single strand of pearls around her neck, matched by pearl earrings, lending her an air of timeless elegance. However, the aura she emitted was far from simply decorative; it was imposing, commanding attention and respect. The whole atmosphere was bizarrely mismatched, like a collision of worlds. On one hand, we were a family sitting around a shabby kitchen table adorned with food that couldn¡¯t pretend to match the elegance of our attire. Yet on the other hand, every fibre of Valeria''s being commanded a level of respect and gravity that would fit seamlessly in a royal palace. The stark contrasts left an indelible impression on me, a perplexing but oddly fascinating snapshot of the complicated dynamics that were evidently at play within this peculiar family. I exchanged a quick, bewildered glance with Gabriel. As our eyes met, it was as if he silently suggested to just roll with it¡ªwhatever ''it'' was. I adhered to his unspoken suggestion without much thought. After all, the day had already been too riddled with incongruities to start questioning them now. "You are late, children," Valeria intoned in a frighteningly neutral voice, as we moved to take our seats at the table. ''Ah, it''s going to be one of those dinners,'' I mused inwardly, trying to gauge what was expected from Sera¡ªwhat was expected from me¡ªin this high-stakes familial theatre. Before Gabriel could leap to my defence, as if trying to balance the ledger of debts between us, I spoke, "My apologies, Mother. Given my current condition, Gabriel had to spend extra time assisting me to achieve a presentable state. It won''t happen again." I could feel the incredulous stares of Gabriel and Oliver piercing into me, though I couldn''t verify their expressions; my eyes were riveted on the enigmatic matriarch seated across the table. A brief yet heavily charged silence followed. When Valeria finally broke it, her words were carefully curated together with the preceding, heavy-set silence for maximum impact. "See that it does not. Now, partake." Each syllable seemed to be weighed on a golden scale before being offered. Her choice of the word ''partake'' over ''sit'' caught my attention; it was as if she were avoiding any language that might be interpreted as insensitive given my wheelchair-bound state. With a barely perceptible flick of her wrist, she exuded a staggering level of authority, transforming the cramped kitchen into a grand hall where she presided like an undisputed queen. Inside, my thoughts screamed in tandem with my pounding heart: ''This is absolutely insane. What the fuck kind of world did I fall into?! Get me out of here!'' Externally, I remained a portrait of composure as I manoeuvred my wheelchair to the kitchen table with as much grace as the rickety device allowed. My knowledge of high-society etiquette was a patchwork quilt stitched together from movies, TV shows, and novels¡ªnone of which could claim any strong grounding in reality. Still, that didn''t stop me from mimicking the most refined behaviours I could recall from my prior life''s media consumption. Rule number one? Follow the host''s lead. So I sat there, painfully upright in my ergonomic disaster of a wheelchair, watching Valeria like a hawk watches for the slightest twitch in the grass, waiting for her to make the first move. For the briefest moment, a microscopic smile seemed to flit across Valeria''s face, as if she were a predator sizing up potential prey. I vowed not to show any signs of vulnerability she could seize upon. "I am inclined to see your return as a non-negative turn of events, daughter," she addressed me, her words wrapped in the circumlocution of a seasoned diplomat. "Gabriel, how have your studies and career progressed since we last spoke?" she pivoted, giving me no further acknowledgment. My heart sunk a little. So that was it? A single, calculated remark, barely even a positive one, was all the interaction I was to have with her for my efforts? Gabriel responded, "My tutor believes that I should complete my current assignments by the end of the month. She''s confident that I''ll perform adequately, given the right environment." Once more, the surreal nature of it all struck me like a sledgehammer to the gut. ''This is beyond surreal. I must be dreaming, right?'' I pondered, feeling more and more like Alice tumbling endlessly down a rabbit hole. I had thought I was the lone actor in Valeria''s high-stakes drama, but it appeared that everyone else knew their lines all too well. "As for my career, I''ve received a bump¡ª" A mere narrowing of Valeria''s eyes interrupted Gabriel mid-sentence. His face twisted momentarily, as if he''d been struck across it. A brief, unsettling silence followed, its tension palpable. Just as I began to wonder what the unspoken cue might be, Gabriel resumed, visibly choosing his words with more care this time. "As for my career, my superiors have assessed my capabilities and bestowed upon me an enhanced role, marked by increased levels of responsibility. I now manage direct customer engagements, overseeing the accurate fulfilment of their needs, while also executing the financial transactions related to those engagements." ''Is Gabriel seriously embellishing this like he''s padding a resume? All he''s saying is that he''s been promoted to cashier, isn''t he?!'' I marvelled at the spectacle, still struggling to square this stilted version of reality with my previous life. "Acceptable," came Valeria''s terse response. Then, as if flipping a switch, her demeanour shifted dramatically as she turned to Oliver. It was a transformation that, paradoxically, felt even more disconcerting than if she''d maintained her icy, corporate mien. "Darling, how was your workday?" Her voice took on an unnervingly sweet inflection that felt like an alien overlay on her otherwise neutral, cold tone. ''I¡¯m actually gonna fucking lose it.'' "Haa¡­ Well, to tell you the truth, I can''t even recall. My mind''s been so consumed with Sera that work just faded into the background. I was practically convinced I''d dreamed the whole hospital episode and bringing her home. Can you believe it, Val? Our little Sera is back with us! I still can''t wrap my head around our incredible fortune!" Oliver''s words came tumbling out, a cascade of earnest emotion. What struck me as utterly baffling was that Valeria not only tolerated Oliver''s emotional outpouring and seeming negligence toward his work, but also appeared to hang on his every word. There had to be a clandestine factor at play here, didn''t there? Was Oliver holding some kind of blackmail over Valeria, a proverbial dead-man''s switch that prompted her to act this way? Or was he simply an ace in¡­ other aspects of spousal responsibilities, if you catch my drift? I had thought Gabriel was the family enigma, but I had been woefully uninformed. This, right here, posed a question that outdid any I had ever encountered. Even the Wall, in all its cryptic glory, seemed like a transparent brochure compared to the bewildering dynamics at this dinner table. Suddenly, as Valeria asked a sickly sweet follow-up question of some kind, my attention was stolen by a notification inside of my HUD.
[System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute.
That was it. That notification sent me over the edge to insanity. The rest of the dinner went by in a blur, as I had decided to fully submit myself to this supremely strange ritual with this totally normal family of mine¡­ Chapter 6 - New Favourite Three excruciatingly strange hours later, Gabriel and I had returned to our room and were quietly dressing down. ¡®That was by far the strangest thing I¡¯ve ever been a part of¡­¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but muse as the proceedings of the evening continued to swirl around in my head. After Valeria had interrogated everyone of their current doings, bar myself who had only gotten that one single line of attention right at the start, we had finally gotten to eat some food. I only then realised that it was my first ever meal in this new body and world¡ªa monumental moment, if one wanted to be emotional about it. Oliver had gotten us some kind of fried noodles, likely from a nearby vendor somewhere inside of our megabuilding, which were supposedly my favourite before the whole ¡®dying¡¯ incident. And after trying them, I had to admit, they were indeed not too shabby! Throughout the meal, I¡¯d endeavoured to emulate Valeria¡¯s calculated gestures and mannerisms, aiming to elevate my status in her discerning eyes. The worst possible scenario, I figured, would be if this corporate lioness deemed me a hindrance¡ªor God forbid, a liability to her meticulously sculpted career. I¡¯ve played, read and watched anything the cyberpunk genre had to offer for over a decade. If it¡¯s taught me just one universal truth about it, it''s that corporate sharks are relentless in all of them, unencumbered by sentiment when climbing their gilded ladders, family be damned. As such, I could not afford to become Valeria''s problem, not even for a nanosecond. The sole glint of silver lining in this whole unsettling affair was the series of notifications I received from the G.E.M.A. System. Pulling up my Ego Attribute Information, a flicker of excitement lit up my insides.
[¡ª Attribute Information: Ego 1 ¡ª 500 / 1,000 XP ¡ª] [The measure of a person¡¯s self. Determines the ability to remain in control of emotions, supports self-set goals, directly opposes Intuition and staves off the negative influences of cybernetic enhancements.]
In the span of this single, bewildering dinner, I''d racked up half a level''s worth of experience points! That was astronomically generous, especially when stacked against the meagre gains my Body Attribute had eked out over the course of an entire day. A part of me, therefore, found itself oddly grateful for Valeria''s peculiar brand of eccentricity. The same part that was, in some twisted, stockholm-syndrome kind of way, almost looking forward to the next familial dinner, eager to harvest another bountiful haul of experience points. But for now, I was simply glad that this strange day was coming to a close. ¡°You need any help over there?¡± Gabriel¡¯s voice echoed over from his side of the metal sheet that divided our room into our individual domains. ¡°No, I think I got it. Thank you,¡± I replied as I struggled to peel the evening dress off of my body. Not being able to move much was a real pain in the ass¡ªquite literally, as I had sat on this unergonomic thing for the past dozen-or-so hours by now! Finally however, I managed to peel the dress off of my body¡ªnot without a lot of swearing and cursing, of course¡ªbefore I threw on a fluffy pyjama set I found in my wardrobe. The quality of the clothes themselves was surprisingly good, considering the rest of my wardrobe¡¯s state. This whole operation took a good twenty minutes and I was thoroughly out of breath by the end of it. Nevertheless, I felt content with the fact that I had managed to at least undress and dress myself. I did not want to repeat the embarrassment that was having Gabriel help me put on the dress the first time around¡ªthat experience was utterly mortifying. Finally, I guided my wheelchair beside the bed, aligning it as closely as I could. Gathering a breath of determination to prepare myself for the arduous task ahead, I attempted to transfer myself from the chair onto the sleeping surface. Notice, I said ''attempted,'' because it went south in a spectacular fashion. You see, the intricacies of having Attributes as opposed to a standard human body lay in the Attributes'' pervasive influence on one''s overall physiology, which was in this case not to my advantage whatsoever. It wasn''t merely a matter of my leg muscles being atrophied, requiring rehabilitation. Instead, it was an all-encompassing debilitation, courtesy of my dismal Body Attribute of -1. Consequently, when I braced my arms against the armrests to hoist myself over, the outcome was a lesson in humility. My arms, sapped of any form of strength by my pitiful Body Attribute, failed me. I plunged towards the ground, my limbs flailing weakly in an attempt to catch myself as if I were one of those wacky inflatable tube men you see at used car dealerships. The fall culminated in a painfully loud collision as my skull met the bed''s unyielding metal frame before I finally crumpled onto the dirty floor next to it. The instant I hit the floor, Gabriel''s voice pierced the room from his side. "Sera, are you okay?!" He was already crossing past the metal-sheet that separated our sides of the room, concern palpable in every word. "Promise me you won''t tell Oliver or Valeria," I said immediately, cutting him off before he could reach me. My head was spinning, but this was of the utmost priority. "Promise me, Gabriel!" He hesitated, his eyes scanning mine before he finally nodded. "Okay, I promise! Just let me help you up already." With that assurance, I allowed him to help me up. It was a slow, painstaking process, but eventually, I found myself perched on the edge of the bed. As Gabriel took a closer look, he drew in a sharp breath. "You''re bleeding¡­ bad," he pointed out, clearly worried. Without another word, he dashed into the living room and was back within seconds, holding a can of basic first-aid spray. I winced as he applied the spray to my forehead, sealing the open wound with a cool, tingling sensation. "You should be good now¡­ At least in terms of the bleeding," he said, putting the cap back on the can and setting it aside. "Tell me, how many siblings do you have?" Gabriel began, his voice carrying an undertone of clinical concern that made the air in the room feel suddenly dense. "Just you?" I answered, my eyebrows knitting together in puzzled apprehension. "And what was the first thing you showed me today when I asked what you''d been up to?" "I demonstrated my progress with leg rehabilitation exercises¡ªwhich by the way, was very impressive, thank you very much! What''s the point of this interrogation?" I couldn''t help but feel a rise in irritation, which did nothing to alleviate my headache. "And what did Dad do when he got home?" Realisation finally dawned on me, prompting me to cut him off. "Gabriel, seriously, I''m fine. Memory''s crystal-clear. Aside from this excruciating headache, I''m good. No need for the rapid-fire Q&A. You¡¯re making my head throb even more." His shoulders slumped in visible relief. "Okay, if you''re sure. Sorry, Sera. I was just worried about a potential concussion or anything, especially ¡®cause you just got out of a coma." Carefully shaking my head, so as to not aggravate my already pounding skull, I interjected, "I think it''s more like a bruise to my ego and a stark lesson in humility." A soft chuckle escaped his lips, lightening the tension that had fogged the room. "Well, let''s aim for fewer ego-bruising lessons then, shall we? Don¡¯t scare me like that." His eyes flicked back to the sealed wound on my forehead, and he winced. "Yikes. That''s going to leave a mark. Makeup won''t cover this one up¡ªand you don¡¯t usually wear any. Unless the ''new you'' is inclined otherwise?" His eyes probed mine for a response. "Gabriel, how could I possibly know that? Haven''t tried make-up yet," I responded, cupping his cheeks with my weak hands to steady his darting gaze. "Ah, yeah. Of course," he conceded, his face softening under my touch. "Still, that gash isn''t going to magically disappear by morning. If you think of a good cover story, let me know, and I''ll back you up." I nodded, my gratitude swelling inside me. I had been so caught up in my immediate discomfort that I hadn¡¯t considered the longer-term implications of my visible injury¡ªespecially if Oliver or Valeria saw it. Once again, I owed Gabriel for his foresight and strangely mature and adjusted behaviour. Seriously, how did he manage to end up like this?
At last, after grilling me with a litany of questions about my well-being¡ªfor what felt like the umpteenth time¡ªGabriel finally retreated behind the makeshift divider to his own section of our shared space. The sound of his footsteps receding left me alone with the soft rustle of bedsheets and my own spiralling thoughts. ''Could this day have been any more fucking humiliating?'' I mused bitterly, recounting the cascade of indignities. ''First, the guy has to help me into a dress, and now he witnesses me practically bashing my skull open in a pathetic attempt to get into bed. Fantastic. Hey, Universe, any chance for a do-over? This day has been an utter masterclass in fuck-ups.'' Eyes closed, I felt the pulsating throb of my headache subside just a fraction, the darkness behind my lids offering minor respite. Deep, deliberate breaths expanded my lungs, each exhale serving as an attempt to organise the jumbled mess of my thoughts. As I continued to breathe and focus on the air streaming through my lungs for a good ten minutes-or-so, rather than the pain in my head, my demeanour slowly recovered. ¡®My therapist always did say these exercises would come in handy someday¡ªbet she didn¡¯t see this situation coming though, ha!¡¯ Suddenly, I was jerked wide awake by the now-familiar chime of a System notification.
[System]: [Meditation] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
"Ah, right," I mumbled under my breath, a subtle grin forming on my face. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The notion had completely slipped my mind: The [Meditation] Skill was an actual feature in Neon Dragons. That meant I could potentially kill two birds with one stone¡ªgaining Skill experience while tackling this infuriating headache! In the gaming community, the [Meditation] Skill was often viewed as a waste of time¡ªvastly overlooked and underutilised in my personal opinion. Many players simply couldn''t be bothered to invest the tedious hours required to evolve the Skill into something worthwhile. In-game, it was like a neglected artefact gathering dust in a forgotten corner. But my situation diverged from the casual or even hardcore gamer. This was my reality now; it wasn¡¯t a matter of only being able to allocate a few hours a day to gameplay, or even sixteen for content creators. No, I had the full breadth of each day stretching before me, all twenty-four relentless hours of it¡ªunless, of course, I got knocked unconscious or met some other unfortunate fate. The Skill, which allowed characters to re-center their focus, remove negative status effects, and temporarily boost their mental Attributes, was admittedly a poor fit for the frenetic pace of the game. Rarely would you find a moment where settling down to meditate was more beneficial than, say, slaughtering hordes of scavs to gain enough experience points for an Intellect upgrade. Yet, given my unique circumstances, this seemingly obscure Skill had the potential to become incredibly potent¡ªa golden opportunity lurking behind the drudgery. And so, the time seemed ripe to invest some time into the overlooked art of [Meditation]!
[System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill.
A big grin split my face as I looked at the stacked-up notifications of the System about two hours later. My headache was basically gone by now and I had managed to stack up a seriously impressive 600xp for the Skill! ¡®Who would have ever thought that [Meditation] would be my highest level Skill someday¡­? Well, not counting the ones given for free by my Traits, of course,¡¯ I thought to myself with mirth. The accumulated fatigue from hours of meditation, the day''s physical exertion, and the whirlwind of emotions had left me feeling utterly drained. Ready to surrender to sleep''s embrace, I reached for the worn switch of the dingy light fixture mounted above my bed and turned it off. My eyes closed once more, this time without any intention of meditating or performing mental gymnastics. I was on the cusp of attempting to dive into a, hopefully, relaxing sleep when an unfamiliar chime resounded in my head, shocking me back into wakefulness. ¡®What on Earth is this now?¡¯ I thought, directing my mental focus towards the holographic interface in my mind. Accessing this felt bizarre, like flexing a muscle I didn''t even know existed, yet it operated seamlessly.
[System]: Rest attempt detected. Would you like to use the rest function?
My eyes scanned the text incredulously. ¡®I have a rest function?! Holy shit!¡¯ Astonished yet hopeful, I affirmed the query with an instinctive mental nod. A new screen materialised in front of my eyes, eerily reminiscent of a similar in-game interface from Neon Dragons.
[¡ª Rest ¡ª] [Timer: 00:00:00]
Admittedly, I was apprehensive about what activating this enigmatic function might entail. Yet, the prospect thrilled me. If this function mirrored its in-game counterpart, it would absolutely revolutionise my life. Insomnia had been a chronic issue for me in my previous life, after all. This function, if it worked as I theorised, could offer me the ability to dictate the length and quality of my sleep. Unable to contain my mounting excitement, I mentally punched in ''8 hours'' into the timer and took a steadying breath before confirming. My eyes fluttered open, met by a wash of sunlight filtering through the small window near the ceiling. ¡®Wait, sunlight? Wasn''t it night? Wasn''t I about to¡ª¡¯ It clicked. It was the next morning! The instant I had activated the timer, I was plunged into a seamless, dreamless sleep. "Holy shit!" I muttered, my voice tinged with disbelief and exhilaration. A chuckle bubbled up from within me, its essence a blend of awe and euphoria. This was definitely the best thing of this entire experience, bar none. Friendship ended with Attributes, Traits and Skills. The rest function was my new best friend! As if the rest function truly needed to dunk on the rest of this G.E.M.A. System, two notifications popped up as well.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
¡®I get fucking rested XP too?! This is definitely the best feature of the entire System, holy shit. Whatever god, genie or otherwise semi-omnipotent being got me here, thank you so much!¡¯ In the world of Neon Dragons, several mechanisms granted players Bonus XP, and rested XP was among the most popular. For each hour of in-game rest using the Rest Function, you earned 50 rested XP, and an extra 50% bonus kicked in if you clocked a full eight-hour stretch. Though it might seem elementary, the discovery that rested XP existed in this reality too was a revelation. It was like discovering a piece of the old world embedded in the fabric of this new one. If XP, Attributes, Skills, and Levels were all part of this reality¡ªas well as the Rest Function¡ªit should have logically followed that rested XP would be here too, but it simply didn¡¯t occur to me before. Still, realising it this early was utterly groundbreaking. "Hey, you awake there, sis? I hear you chuckling over there. What''s so funny?" Gabriel''s voice floated over to me from his partitioned section of the room. Caught off guard by his query, I replied, "Ah, yes, I''m awake. Just musing over something, that''s all." I felt a bit self-conscious about my solitary moment of glee. "Alright, good to hear. Listen, I''ve got to head out for work soon. Do you need any help getting your day started?" His voice was tinged with concern, and I could hear the distinct sound of fabric rustling behind the partition. He was likely pulling on his work attire. For a moment, pride tempted me to decline his offer, to assert my independence. But then, the memory of last night''s humiliating tumble flooded back, a stark reminder of my current limitations. Swallowing my pride, I hesitantly responded, "Um, actually, if you could help me get into the chair, that would be great." Moments later, I heard the zip of a jacket being fastened, signalling the end of Gabriel''s wardrobe transformation. He walked around the partition, now fully donned in his work attire¡ªpractical and utilitarian, looking suspiciously like something I¡¯d have imagined a cashier to wear. His eyes met mine for a moment, a blend of sibling concern and mature understanding. Carefully, almost reverently, he slid his arms under my back and knees. With a lift that hid the effort involved, he transitioned me from the bed into the wheelchair parked alongside it. It was a smooth motion, carried out with the expertise of someone who''d moved around weights more than once in their life. "As for your forehead, you''ll probably need to swap out that first-aid spray patch," he noted, his eyes briefly flicking to the sprayed-on bandage on my forehead. "I left the can by the mirror for you. Anything else you need before I go?" His question lingered in the air, an open invitation for any last-minute requests. "No, I think I''ll manage. Thanks, Gabriel," I replied, touched by his conscientiousness but not wanting to keep him from his responsibilities. Also, I really needed some free space from all this family business. Having a real family was something entirely new to me and while it was definitely not a negative, especially with Gabriel¡¯s strangely mature behaviour, I really needed some alone time to recharge. Getting thrown into this wild family dynamic right on my first day was just a little bit too much for me. "Alright," he nodded, his face pulling into a brief but warm smile. "Remember, don''t overdo it. You''re still getting your bearings, Sera. And if you need me, just call me via your implants. I¡¯ll head back as soon as I can, should you need me." With that, he grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and exited the apartment. The door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone, awash in the silence that followed. I breathed a relieved sigh of finally having some alone-time again and simply enjoyed the brief moment. But ultimately, I knew that I had to make these hours count. I had experience to grind! Turning my attention back to my own tasks, I began the laborious process of changing my clothes. Simple tasks like these felt mountainous given my current state, but I navigated through it, one arduous step at a time. Finally dressed, after what felt like an eternity of exhausting labour, I wheeled myself over to the mirror. The patch on my forehead looked worn, a dull grey compared to the skin surrounding it. "Haa¡­ What on earth am I going to say to explain this mess? ''Oops, I tripped'' hardly seems adequate," I mused under my breath, agonising over the narrative I would have to weave. Above all else, I couldn''t afford for Valeria to perceive me as a liability; that was non-negotiable, priority one. And then there was Oliver. His freakout when he first saw me home yesterday had been a chaotic whirlwind of emotions that I had no desire to repeat. Being the eye of that particular storm was far from pleasant. Yet, I wondered if I was spiralling down a rabbit hole of overanalysis. Accidents happen, especially during the challenging course of physical rehabilitation. Surely that was universally understood, right? An intriguing thought suddenly dawned on me. Valeria, ever the corporate pragmatist, might even see my mishap as a badge of earnest effort, tangible evidence that I was working hard to be useful to her. Oliver''s inevitable disapproval of my getting injured might be a small price to pay for currying favour with the boss. Resolved to stick with that angle¡ªunless struck by a divine bolt of storytelling inspiration¡ªI cautiously removed the adhesive patch, mentally bracing for the biting sting that would follow as it separated from my skin. To my astonishment, however, the expected pain never came. Baffled, my eyes met their reflection in the smudged mirror, as I checked for my wound. Not a mark, not a blemish, not a single indication that my forehead had been split open just hours before. It was as if last night''s accident had never happened. My fingertips danced hesitantly to the spot, probing and pressing the skin. ''Is this some sort of incredibly advanced scab?,'' I wondered. I pushed, pulled, and pinched, half-expecting to unveil some odd layer of new skin or unearth a hidden ache. Yet, nothing. My skin felt as normal as ever, as if it had been years rather than hours since the injury. The realisation washed over me like a wave, just as I noted another crucial detail: The gnawing headache that had accompanied me to sleep, which I had felt throbbing behind my eyes when I activated the rest function, had vanished too. Gone, without a trace, as if it had never been there to torment me. Then it clicked. The Rest Function! In Neon Dragons, activating the rest function didn''t just give you peace of mind for a quick nap and pass the time¡ªit fully restored your character''s HP and Stamina! Was I really entertaining this thought? As far-fetched as it seemed, the facts were there, written all over my unscarred forehead and in the newfound clarity of my thought. ¡®There¡¯s no way¡­¡¯ I thought to myself, refusing to believe what I was thinking about. I couldn''t help but shake my head in a combination of disbelief and awestruck wonder. If my conclusions were right, and I was having a hard time arguing against the evidence staring back at me in the mirror, then the Rest Function did more than just simulate sleep; it acted as a miraculous instant-heal. The implications were staggering, thrilling, and more than a little unsettling¡ªafter all, how the hell did that even work? Skills and such, sure. They were mostly knowledge, so it could be downloaded into my brain like the helicopter manual for Neo. But fully healing me overnight?! One thing was undeniable, regardless: However this strange function worked, its usefulness could not, ever, be understated¡­ Chapter 7 - Gains and Experimentation I applied a smaller patch of synthetic spray-bandage to the non-existent gash on my forehead, right where it should''ve been, before manoeuvring my wheelchair into the living room. It was crucial to have some form of bandage in place when Gabriel returned home, lest my not-so-little secret be revealed. My agenda for the remainder of the day was clear-cut: Deciphering the workings of the Rest Function and devising ways to exploit it for my advantage! I wheeled myself into the rundown kitchen that looked like it had not been used for actual cooking a single time in its existence, and selected a kitchen knife from the drawer, its handle nestling comfortably in my grip as I lifted it. The proper gripping of the knife was unquestionably the result of the [Knives] Skill I had acquired through my Trait. In my past life, I was distinctly clumsy when it came to the precision required to handle any kind of kitchen tool, much less something as dangerous as a knife, without appearing like a novice butcher. But now, I intuitively knew the correct way to grip the kitchen knife, despite its weight being somewhat burdensome compared to my negligible muscle strength. ''I really have to grind out this Skill as soon as possible. This type of instinctual knowledge is downright addicting, holy shit,'' I thought to myself, confidently twirling the knife, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn''t fumble and wound myself or drop it. Once I had indulged my childish inclination to toy with the knife, I took it with me to the old, worn-down couch in the living room¡ªI had a Body Attribute to sharpen. My strategy was straightforward: Engage in as much physical rehabilitation as possible to accumulate Body XP, then, when fatigue took over, inflict a wound on myself using the knife and activate the Rest Function. I intended to gradually increase the timer until the injury vanished, to figure out the exact duration of rest necessary for the health-reset and stamina regeneration to kick in. This information was going to be absolutely crucial for the future, without a doubt. After all, the first rule for any serious gamer is to know the precise parameters of the tools at your disposal! Gazing at the couch, a lingering sense of apprehension gnawed at my heart, no doubt fueled by the arduous ordeal I''d endured just a day prior. I found it impossible to stifle a weary sigh. "Haa¡­ I know it''s necessary, but man¡­ This is not the kind of activity I envisioned myself engaging in when I finally got an apartment in Neo Avalis." Summoning up the courage to commence my lengthy day of painful and exhausting grinding, I took a deep breath. ¡®Here goes nothing.¡¯
An exhausting and utterly agonising hour later, I found myself slumped back in my wheelchair, utterly drenched in sweat and heaving for air. My face was a flushed shade of red, dishevelled by exertion, but a triumphant smile broke through the physical fatigue. Who could possibly stay mad when your system floods you with sweet, sweet bursts of pure, concentrated dopamine, courtesy of XP notifications?
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
Yes, you read that right. A staggering three-hundred Body XP. Your girl is getting swole! In all fairness, a chunk of that first notification was probably carry-over XP from my previous day''s physical efforts¡ªmy absolutely preem display of prowess in front of Gabriel. But who exactly counted, right? I was tantalisingly close to my first-ever Attribute increase¡ªjust 100xp shy of that glorious milestone. To say I was buzzing with anticipation would be a gross understatement. I was barely able to contain myself, but truly, I had completely and utterly exhausted myself to get that last drop of xp. ''Without a significant recovery period, there''s no way I can continue with any form of grinding today... Unless?'' I thought, a sly grin stretching across my face. Ah yes, there was a way around this obstacle for me, of course. It was time to scrutinise the Rest Function and decipher its precise parameters! However, before I initiated the Rest Function, there was an additional task to complete. I picked up the kitchen knife, its metallic sheen reflecting the room''s light, which I had set on the coffee table during my earlier xp grinding session, and positioned it against the soft skin of my left forearm. ''It''s been a while¡­ But, this is different. This is purely for testing purposes, nothing else,'' I reminded myself, feeling a tremor of anxiety stirring in my chest. It was peculiar how certain actions that would ordinarily seem almost impossible, like actively going out to hurt yourself, could transform into an almost cathartic experience. The complexities of the human brain were indeed baffling. With a swift and practised movement, I cut a moderately deep wound into my arm. My body reacted accordingly, releasing a surge of adrenaline that thrust me into a sharpened state of alertness. This felt unfamiliar; it had been a considerable amount of time since my previous body had responded in such a manner, but I was honestly grateful for it. ''This is the way it should be,'' I reassured myself, before activating the Rest Function. I dialled the timer to a conservative 30 minutes and tapped the confirm button. My eyes sprung open almost instantaneously, disorienting me for a brief second. ''I don''t think I''ll ever get used to this utterly surreal, dreamless slumber. It''s beyond crazy,'' I contemplated, relishing the fact that this surreal experience was now a part of my everyday life. While surreal, an immediate, dreamless rest available at the mere press of a button, was an absolute game-changer. I immediately sensed that my stamina hadn''t fully regenerated; the fatigue from my earlier rigorous training still lingered. But I was more eager to examine my arm''s condition. After all, what if the healing from the Rest Function wasn¡¯t instantaneous after a set period but operated on a quickened, incremental basis? I scrutinised the cut on my forearm with intense focus, gingerly prodding it, pulling the skin taut, and inspecting the scab that had formed. And, unfortunately, the evidence was as clear as day¡ªnothing significant had changed. "Damn it. So a 30-minute rest won''t cut it, huh?" I muttered to myself, disappointment shading my voice. ¡°Or in this case, un-cut it, I guess.¡± I''d harboured a sliver of hope that the System would be more lenient, but seeing the reality first-hand dashed those hopes. My fantasy of being an indomitable, untiring powerhouse evaporated as quickly as it had formed. With that experimental attempt concluded and given my persistent exhaustion and lingering injury, it seemed the next logical step was to extend the timer for another round of testing. I also tucked away a mental reminder to keep tabs on the total rest hours, just in case the System operated on some kind of cumulative metric. I navigated to the Rest Function within my cerebral interface and adjusted the timer to an hour, then mentally confirmed the change. My eyes snapped open yet again, momentarily throwing off my bearings. "Alright, so this is going to be a recurring thing, I guess," I acknowledged to myself, unfazed by the minor disorientation. If this was the price for an unblemished, quick nap that miraculously healed my wounds and fully reinvigorated me? It was a price I was, naturally, more than willing to pay. This time around, my sudden awakening was also accompanied by a familiar notification.
[System]: 50 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
It seemed that the rested XP worked exactly as it had in the game, as I surmised earlier. I went on to once again assess my own body and level of exhaustion. There was a definite improvement in the latter, for sure. When I checked the wound on my arm, I could also swear that it looked slightly less fresh than before, but the difference wasn¡¯t as drastic as with the exhaustion. ¡®Hmm¡­ Either my stamina regenerates faster during a rest, or my overall stamina is just that much lower than my health, so it appears that way, despite regenerating at a similar rate,¡¯ I mused, trying to put what I was observing into words that my conscious brain could understand. The next logical step was a repetitive, albeit crucial, series of experiments, elongating the rest timer in 30-minute increments. Each time, I would assess both my lingering fatigue and the status of my arm''s cut. It was a tedious but necessary process, every minute a step closer to understanding this strange new reality I found myself in. By the time the cumulative rest timer hit the 5-hour mark, it became apparent that my stamina had made a full comeback. I felt as ready to take on a full day of excruciating physical rehab as I did that some morning. This milestone allowed me to set aside my rest experiments, at least temporarily. My attention refocused on grinding experience for my Body Attribute, and I couldn''t suppress the excitement bubbling within me. ¡®Getting Body to 0 is going to be a massive difference, I bet. I might even be able to leave this wheelchair sometime soon!¡¯ I hyped myself up further. Granted, my hopes were buoyed mostly by a potent cocktail of optimism and wishful thinking¡ªpure, concentrated hopium, if you want. My only tangible benchmarks were the few Level 1 Skills that I had acquired through my Traits. And while Skills and Attributes were not the same beast, if they served as any indication, even a single extra level could have a profound impact. Poised with a large portion of hopium coursing through my veins, I got to work. Around thirty minutes and two painfully slow leg-raises later, I finally saw the much anticipated notification pop up in my interface.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: Body Attribute has reached 0.
The moment the notification appeared, I felt a near-instantaneous change surge through my physical form. It was as if an invisible force was weaving new strength into the very fibres of my muscles. My atrophied limbs began to fill out, not drastically, but enough for me to notice. A tangible firmness replaced what had been a flaccid lack of tone. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Even my respiratory system seemed rejuvenated. Each inhalation became a bit easier, and each exhalation less laborious. I hadn¡¯t even realised how much breathing had been a chore since the accident, but now, it felt... less so. It was as if someone had dialled back the gravity around me just a tad, making every movement that much less taxing. I sat there in my wheelchair, stunned at the immediacy of the changes. I had prepared myself mentally for the long-haul, imagining incremental gains over extended periods, or at the very least, a lengthy period of rest before the changes came into effect. But this? This was nothing short of miraculous. A metamorphosis in real-time, right in front of my very eyes. As the sensations stabilised, a newfound optimism suffused my consciousness. My Attribute had gone from the nadir of "fully disabled" to a state that was¡ªwhile still very much below average¡ªvastly improved. I was by no means ready to take on an obstacle course, but I felt empowered in a way I hadn''t thought would be possible for quite some time. Maybe, just maybe, the wheelchair wouldn''t be a permanent fixture in my life. With this new ''0'' in my Body Attribute, I was no longer a statistic on the wrong end of a bell curve; I was on the chart, alive and improving. Eagerly, I clenched and unclenched my fists, relishing the simple joy of muscle responding more efficiently to neural command. Every sinew, every tendon, felt like it had undergone some sort of cosmic tune-up. And as I sat there, letting the magnitude of this moment sink in, I couldn''t help but think, ''If this is what just one level up feels like, what sort of unimaginable changes lie ahead?'' For the first time in a long while, the future seemed not just bearable, but tantalisingly promising. Fully charged with the newly found power in my legs and the palpable upgrade to my stamina, I threw myself legs-first into continuing my rehabilitation exercises. I quickly realised however, that my grinding was definitely going to have to evolve. After finishing five leg-raises the same way I had before, I still had not received a single notification. ¡®Figures. As my physicality improves, so must the actions to receive experience. No cheesing the System, it seems.¡¯ So, I decided to change my setup back to what I had originally tried, all the way back the previous day after I had just returned home¡ªfull leg-raises, with no couch to support. Surprisingly enough, I was actually able to complete a full leg-raise after just ten minutes of attempts and struggle. That single Attribute increase had made such a massive difference already! I continued the new set of exercises and after another two full leg-raises, I got my much awaited notification.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
As I stared at the notification with a gentle smile of satisfaction gracing my face, I suddenly remembered something else I had to test out. I immediately went back to the next exercises, but this time keeping a certain part of my brain engaged with thinking about wanting to use my stored up bonus XP. Half an hour of excruciating work later, which left me heaving for air once again, I got another notification that I immediately scrutinised closely.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 550xp.
¡®Neat. It works just as I hoped it would! It even shows me the remaining Bonus XP. That¡¯s definitely a nice touch. If I recall correctly, this was not actually a feature in the game. Great work, UX Designer for this world!¡¯ Exhausted from my second wind of strenuous exercise, I returned to my earlier line of scientific inquiry. The cut on my arm still needed to vanish, after all. Opting for more granular results this time, I set the timer for one-hour increments. My cumulative rest was nearing the oft-recommended 6-8 hour sleep window, a metric from my past life that was touted as ideal for human health. It seemed sensible to inspect the results after each added hour. With a mental nod, I confirmed my timer setting, bracing myself for the now-familiar sensation of immediate disorientation. As expected, my eyes popped open, leaving me momentarily bewildered in that strange liminal space between states of rest and wakefulness. ''Well, it seems like this brief confusion is a constant companion in this new life,'' I mused, a touch of resignation colouring my thoughts. ''But hey, it''s fleeting. A mere blip on the radar, especially considering the benefits.''
[System]: 50 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
Shifting my focus, I began to scrutinise my body, particularly the lingering cut on my arm, to gauge how much, if at all, it had healed during that hour. Peering down at my arm, I was stunned to see that the cut had significantly diminished in size. It looked like the sort of wound that had been healing for days, not mere hours. Almost involuntarily, my fingers reached out, gingerly prodding the skin around it. My touch confirmed that this wasn''t some optical illusion¡ªthe cut was genuinely smaller, the skin surrounding it less inflamed and the scab itself far less prominent. Disbelief gripped me as I pressed and tugged lightly on the surrounding skin, half-expecting it to revert to its previous state as if some magician would yell, "Gotcha!" But there were no theatrics, no reversal to a former condition. The Rest Function had, indeed, accelerated the healing process to an almost fantastical degree. A familiar chime surprised me, ripping me from my thoughts.
[System]: [First-Aid] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill.
It seemed that my consistent checking of the wound, looking it over and seeing the different stages it had gone through over the course of its healing, had been enough for the System to consider me passingly proficient in [First-Aid]! Today¡¯s grinding and experimentation session was turning out far more profitable than I had ever anticipated. Returning to my earlier thoughts, still trying to grasp the radical implications of the Rest Function, I thought, ''I can''t believe it. It''s like some kind of dark magic.'' It was clearly not just some glorified sleep button; it was practically a magical healing pod condensed into a simple interface option. With the Rest Function, I was flirting with capabilities that danced on the borders of science fiction, and I couldn''t help but be astounded by this straight up cheat-like function. Excited to see the results of another hour of rest, I immediately confirmed another hour. My eyes fluttered open once again, leaving me slightly dazed as I immediately began to scrutinise my arm, flicking away the errant notification with a simple thought.
[System]: 50 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
To my utter disbelief, the cut had vanished¡ªcompletely erased, as if it had never marred my skin in the first place. My fingertips grazed the area, seeking any telltale sign of a scar or even just a faded blemish, but found nothing. My skin was as immaculate as it had been when I''d awoken that morning, a blank canvas once more. A giddy, almost disbelieving laugh bubbled up from my throat, my mind whirling with the newfound, almost unthinkable possibilities this brought. The Rest Function wasn''t just a novelty; it was a game-changer, a sliver of impossible reality manifested through the G.E.M.A. System. But just as quickly as euphoria had taken root, a more sombre thought crept in, effectively dousing my exuberance like a bucket of ice water. ''I can''t let anyone¡ªespecially not Valeria¡ªknow about this,'' I realised, my heart rate spiking at the thought. The healing I had just experienced was nothing short of miraculous, defying all conventional understanding of biology or medicine. And in a world where such things were as likely to be weaponized as they were to be celebrated, the risk was too great. If the wrong people found out about this unprecedented level of healing, I could easily become a lab rat, locked away from the world, my newfound abilities poked and prodded at for eternity. ¡®I need to make absolutely sure that I do not rest for longer than six hours using the Rest Function, if I have taken some obvious wounds,¡¯ I mentally reminded myself, verbally locking the thought into the forefront of my mind. Despite my renewed efforts, I was still feeling the lingering fatigue from the second wave of exercises; the paltry two hours of rest hadn''t fully recharged my batteries. Resolved to push through, I dedicated the rest of my day solely to physical rehabilitation. I was hell-bent on ditching this accursed wheelchair sooner rather than later. By the time my interface pinged with a message from Gabriel¡ªletting me know he was on his way home from work¡ªI had made strides that could only be described as astonishing. I couldn''t resist pulling up my Attribute Information and basking in the evidence of my hard work.
[¡ª Attribute Information: Body 0 ¡ª 600 / 700 XP ¡ª] [The measure of a person¡¯s constitution and strength. Determines the overall health, stamina and physical brawn. Helps to stave off negative effects of physical ailments.]
I''d burned through a significant chunk of my Bonus XP stash, but the frequent breaks and targeted Rest Functions had allowed me to maintain some semblance of a buffer. The result? I was a mere 100xp shy of bringing my Body Attribute in line with the other Attributes¡ªa more "normal" level of human functionality! The idea of simply being able to walk unaided had become a tantalising dream. It was a basic ability that I had once thoughtlessly taken for granted. Now, it loomed large in my mind as a precious commodity, something likely overlooked not just by me in my former life, but probably by most people, whether in my old world or this new one. Exercising caution, I opted not to chase the remaining 100xp for my Body Attribute just yet. The sobering thought that had crossed my mind earlier about the implausible healing effects of the Rest Functions served as a cold reminder: Being too much of an outlier could have unforeseen repercussions. Sure, it would be impossible to keep every peculiarity under wraps¡ªlike the inexplicable [Polyglot] Trait or the Skills that somehow endowed me with muscle memory I shouldn''t logically possess. Still, discretion seemed like the better part of valour. The more I could keep under wraps, the better. Imagine if Gabriel walked through the door and found me miraculously up and walking after just one day of physical rehab. Even he, trusting as he was, would begin to harbour suspicions about the strange mechanics at work within me. So, the game plan was clear: I''d keep my Body Attribute stagnant at 0 for at least the first week, concentrating on other Skills and Attributes that needed improvement. Once I had a more rounded skill set, I would make my calculated move to abandon this wheelchair for good. The medical prognosis had indicated a 2-3 month timeframe for even considering a life free from wheeled mobility. Pulling it off in a single week would already seem nothing short of miraculous. But at least that kind of rapid recovery could more easily be attributed to a misdiagnosis, rather than raising eyebrows over how a coma patient was up and walking just a day after regaining consciousness. Just as I was sliding the kitchen knife into its designated slot, the apartment door creaked open. Gabriel''s trademark orange hair was the first thing I spotted, bobbing into view as he wrestled to get his work boots off in a bizarre hop-dance. I heard muffled swearing and a grunt of exertion before the rebellious boot finally surrendered, popping off his foot. With a flick of his toe, he sent it sailing toward the door of our room, and proceeded to grapple with the other foot''s entrapment. "Hard day?" I ventured, noting his unusual preoccupation with his footwear as opposed to the more carefree demeanour he''d exhibited the previous day. Gabriel expelled a heavy sigh as he flung the second boot in the direction of the first. His eyes met mine, and I saw the weariness etched into his expression. "You have no idea, sis. This new position is a fucking nightmare. These fucking blanks keep coming in, asking for items we''ve never even stocked. DD Shards, of all things! Since when have we ever sold those?!" The mention of DD Shards instantly caught my attention. These were specialty items in Neon Dragons, allowing you to plunge into another person''s emotions and experiences via a special piece of cerebral interface equipment. Most commonly, they were utilised for porn, of course, but their range was truly vast. The acronym ''DD'' stood for Deep-Dive, aptly capturing the essence of the immersive experience. In the annals of my memory, I had forgotten these gems, but Gabriel''s mention brought a rush of recollection. They were a tech marvel I was eager to sample. It reminded me of the inspiration the developers drew from Brain Dances in Cyberpunk 2077, or more aptly, it''s sequel, another couple of cyberpunk RPGs that preceded Neon Dragons by over a decade, which had ended up as massive inspirations for the developers. The best part? Certain DD Shards could actually help improve your Skills in the game! A tantalising thought, for sure. Naturally I was not interested in the more... adult variants of the DDs at all, of course. Nope. Not one bit. I was a prim and proper lady! My mental detour was abruptly cut off by Gabriel''s continued venting. "And get this, they wanted me to ''check the back.'' As if there''s some magical storeroom that magically holds inventory we''ve never carried. What fucking planet are these blanks from?!" I couldn''t help but chuckle at his exasperation. It seemed like a universal truth, transcending time and space: the inexplicable customer belief in a magical "back" where all their unfindable desires could miraculously be located. Ah, the eternal frustrations of retail¡­ Chapter 8 - Unsettling Realisation For the next hour, I found myself absorbed in Gabriel''s litany of workplace frustrations. In the kaleidoscopic whirl of cyberpunk realities surrounding us, his complaints struck a peculiarly "normal" chord. It made me pause and reflect on my previous notions of what this world was all about. In hindsight, why shouldn''t there be routine concerns like these even in a world steeped in neon and shadow? Not everyone was destined to be a scav, ganger or cyberpsycho waiting to happen. In fact, the overwhelming majority of people were just that¡ªordinary folks trying to navigate the challenges of daily life. It''s a universal constant, something that has remained unchanged through the aeons. The sudden confrontation with this mundane reality felt almost jarring. My exposure to Neon Dragons, largely through gameplay videos and countless hours of other online content, hadn''t prepared me for this. In the game, your character was constantly embroiled in high-stakes drama and conflicts, leaving little room to ponder the everyday lives of virtual citizens. Gameplay emphasised experience points, driving players to engage in actions that, while perhaps lethal, would maximise gains¡ªthink scavenger hunting, but with literal scavs that are shooting at you. Yet, sharing these quiet moments in the domestic life of Sera''s family jolted me with a realisation: This was no mere game anymore. Perhaps it had never been one to begin with. This was a fully fleshed-out, breathing world teeming with life in all its complexities. People here coexisted in a precarious balance, wedged between towering corporations waging invisible wars in clandestine boardrooms and predatory scavs eager to murder and strip you of your cyberware. Add to that a perennial undercurrent of gang conflicts, turning borderlands between their individual territories into danger zones, and you get a world that''s as perilous as it is vibrant. Yes, this world was palpably real, and I was now a small part of its intricate tapestry¡ªa tapestry woven from countless threads of ordinary lives, just like Gabriel''s, all striving for survival in a landscape as mesmerising as it was merciless. "Ah, thanks for lending an ear, sis. Feels like a weight lifted, you know?" Gabriel concluded, his voice tinged with an appreciable measure of relief. As if finally having the mental space to observe new things, he looked at me with renewed interest. "Wow, you''re looking miles better than yesterday. Guess a hearty meal and solid sleep works wonders, huh?" He quipped, delivering a gentle fist-bump to my shoulder, his laughter warm and infectious. ''Oh absolutely,'' I thought with a hint of irony. ''The culinary marvels of a street vendor and the plush comfort of a thin foam mattress atop a metal frame are clearly the cornerstones of my miraculous recovery.'' "Anytime, Gabriel! It''s nice to hear about life beyond these walls, even if it''s just stories from your job. I can''t recall anything past this apartment, so every tidbit feels like a tiny adventure to me!" I responded, playing up my role as the amnesiac younger sister, yet earnest in my enthusiasm. There was something effortlessly likeable about Gabriel¡ªSera''s anomalously well-balanced and mature older brother. Whether it was his genuine kindness or his habit of putting my well-being conspicuously at the forefront of his actions, he quickly rose to be my favourite family member. Being in his good graces wasn''t a calculated move on my part, either. Rather, I found his company genuinely enjoyable, and I wanted to preserve that. It was a peculiar sort of friendship, familial yet not quite so¡ªfor him, it was a sibling bond, natural and unconditional. For me, just getting to know him, friendship was the closest label that fit. It then occurred to me: When was the last time I made a friend who wasn''t merely an avatar or username in some distant time zone? It felt both surreal and immensely comforting, in a strange, yet familiar kind of way. "So, what''s been on your agenda all day? More physical therapy, I assume? And how''s the noggin? Man, I''ve been going on about myself¡ªI should''ve checked in on you first," he said, visibly chastened as he glanced down at the floor. "No worries, Gabriel, really," I assured him, lifting his spirits. "Your life matters as much as mine does. Besides, you saw me up and about the moment you walked in. Had I not been in the kitchen, I''m certain you''d have gone on a search mission right away!" I felt it was crucial to set this boundary, not just to correct his misplaced guilt but also because I needed a degree of autonomy. If I was going to leverage the G.E.M.A. System effectively, I couldn''t afford to be under constant, very close, scrutiny. "To answer your questions, yes, more rehab today. And if my sweat-drenched state isn''t a clear enough indicator, it was quite the workout! As for my head, it''s healing remarkably well. The wound has already shrunk significantly¡ªguess it wasn''t as bad as we initially thought," I reported, strategically planting the seed of doubt about the gravity of my head injury. I had no intention of sporting a spray-on bandage for a month under the pretence of "healing." ''Shower. Must remember to take a shower,'' I internally reminded myself, suddenly cognizant that I hadn''t bathed since waking from my coma¡ªsince arriving in this alternate reality. Oddly enough, nobody had commented on my, almost assuredly, pungent state. Then again, the cyberpunk genre wasn''t exactly known for its focus on personal hygiene, so maybe it made a twisted kind of sense. "Actually, what were you doing in the kitchen anyway?" Gabriel probed, his voice echoing in the sparsely furnitured living room. "Were you feeling peckish? I could go out and rustle up something for you. We don¡¯t usually have any food at home, after all," he added, a light-hearted jest that momentarily froze my actions. How was I supposed to respond to that? Admitting, "I needed a blade to harm myself," was definitely not an option here. The fact that he had confirmed the kitchen was devoid of food also eliminated that potential excuse. My temporary silence only enhanced his curiosity, as he continued, "Sera? I''m not upset or anything. I was just curious. If there''s a problem, I''d appreciate if you''d share it with me so I can fix it." Gabriel''s tone carried no hint of hesitation; he was earnestly committed to resolving any issues that plagued his little sister. Faced with this genuine concern, I weighed my options. Spinning an elaborate lie seemed counterproductive at this juncture. Besides, being honest¡ªor at least partially so¡ªcould actually set me on a better footing for whatever awaited me in this strange new world, if I spun the right tale. Opting for a delicate balance of candour and theatricality, I mustered my most convincing expression of vulnerable unease. "I¡ªI was nervous," I began, my voice tinged with faux apprehension. "Being alone in the apartment, I didn''t feel entirely safe... So, um, I took a kitchen knife... just in case." I let that last phrase hang in the air, deliberately vague, allowing Gabriel''s imagination to fill in the gaps. Sometimes, letting others connect the dots for you can lend more credibility to your story than you could ever imbue yourself. Gabriel''s reaction was precisely as I''d anticipated¡ªquintessential big-brotherly concern blooming across his face. "Sera, I''m so sorry," he blurted out, his words tinged with guilt as he pulled me into a snug embrace. "I should have figured that you would be feeling insecure in this strange apartment all by yourself! Fuck, what was I thinking?!" He took a step back, holding me at arm''s length as if to ensure I was still in one piece. "Listen, you should know that this apartment is safe¡ªmore than safe, actually. This entire floor of the megabuilding is owned by Ether Labs, Mom''s employer. They''ve got top-tier security measures in place. The elevator, for instance, scans everyone biometrically before allowing access to this level." His face took on a more serious look as he continued. "There are these things called ''access shards,'' sure. They can let outsiders in, but those are exceedingly rare and everyone needs to be vetted thoroughly before they''re handed one. I can assure you, our home is the most secure environment you could be in the entire city." I paused for a moment, contemplating my next move. I decided to lean into my amnesiac role, my face knitting into an apprehensive frown. "I guess if you say so, Gabriel. It''s just... hard to shake this feeling, you know?" That uncertainty seemed to strike another chord in him. "You''re right, Neo Avalis isn''t a walk in the park. I''ll tell you what¡ªwhy don''t we get you a proper knife? Something you can actually defend yourself with. I mean, you won''t be staying cooped up in this apartment forever. Having a knife could help you feel more secure, even outside," he offered, his voice laced with a hopeful tone. My eyes widened just a fraction, then settled back into a careful mask of hesitant gratitude. "Yeah, that... that sounds like a good idea, I think. A knife would probably work," I finally said, nodding slowly as though still weighing the merits of his proposal. Internally, I was punching the air in victory. Everything had gone just as planned. A knife would not only offer me an additional layer of security but also provide more leeway for whatever moves I''d need to make in the unpredictable landscape of Neo Avalis. Not to mention all of the Skill experience I was going to be able to grind out with a proper knife! All in all, a beautifully executed plan, if I do say so myself. Did I feel slightly bad for lying to Gabriel? Honestly and strangely enough, yes. Yes, I did. He was such an earnest, kind boy, that I truly felt a twinge of guilt at this whole spiel, but ultimately, I told myself, it was for his benefit as well. If I was able to defend myself and grind up my Skills in peace, I could also defend him at some stage. I was bound to become more capable than he was, if my current projections for Attribute and Skill progression were anything to go by. At the end of the day, however, what truly mattered was that I had secured Gabriel¡¯s promise to get me a proper combat knife the very next day. I also made a mental note to ask for the price, so I could repay him when I finally made some creds myself¡ªbeing indebted to others was not something I could stomach for long. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The rest of the day seemed to evaporate in a haze of comfortable conversation. I found myself engrossed in seemingly trivial dialogue with Gabriel, the kind of easy-going banter that had been conspicuously absent from my life for so long. The homeyness of it was grounding, a touchstone of normalcy in a reality that otherwise felt foreign and unsettled. Gabriel''s presence was more than just a comfort; it was a stabilising force, grounding me when the new world I found myself in seemed ready to spiral out of control at any moment. I couldn''t emphasise enough how crucial he was to my acclimation during those fledgling days. As the clock rolled around to 9pm, Oliver also arrived at home. We shared a dinner, just the three of us. Valeria was entangled in her corporate responsibilities and wouldn''t be home for several days, a norm that didn''t seem to faze anyone else in the family. Part of me was quietly grateful for her absence, even if it meant missing out on some potential Ego XP. I needed a couple of days to really find my bearings and path, before I was willing to engage with that demon of a woman again. The day petered out in a calming mix of grind and exploration, but it did culminate in one monumental event¡ªthe long-overdue shower. It was my inaugural act of self-care in this cyberpunk landscape, and I had high expectations! To my mild disappointment, however, the experience was largely the same as showers in my old world, although the water pressure did have a delightful intensity that was objectively superior to my crappy studio-apartment of old. It was kind of a letdown, realising that even in a world so radically different, some things¡ªlike the mechanics of a shower¡ªremained remarkably mundane. I guess there really wasn¡¯t much you could cyber-ify with the idea of having water rain down from above to rinse off grime and sweat. By 11pm, Gabriel and I were ready to call it a night. Sharing a room with a teenage boy could have been awkward, but any discomfort was somehow severely mitigated, probably because of Gabriel''s strangely mature and well-adjusted demeanour. Still, a nagging thought lingered: Was this ease also due to some residual connection between Sera''s original body and her brother? An innate familiarity that made the cohabitation less strange for the foreign consciousness now inhabiting her? As I settled into bed, Gabriel helped tuck me in¡ªsince I had yet to disclose any of my newfound capabilities¡ªI felt a frisson of excitement at the prospect of activating the Rest Function once more. Setting the timer for a full eight hours, I hit confirm.
My eyes flickered open, momentarily enveloped by a comforting disorientation.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
A warm smile spread across my face as I processed the notifications. Once again, the Rest Function had worked its magic, gifting me a flawless, dreamless slumber. ''Hands down, the best feature,'' I thought to myself, relishing the freedom from the relentless grip of insomnia that used to torment me. In my previous life, I would have sold my Soul¡ªor, less dramatically, punted a baby down the Grand Canyon¡ªfor a function as blissful as this. Dealing with chronic insomnia was utterly atrocious¡ªand now, I would never have to worry about it, ever again! I was snapped out of my reverie when Gabriel knocked on the metallic partition separating our living spaces. "Come in," I called. "I''m about to head off to work, Sera," he said, entering the room. "But first, I brought this for you." He placed the kitchen knife I had borrowed the day before at the foot of my bed. "Promise me you''ll be careful with it. I''ll pick up a proper knife for you after my shift, so you''ll have something more reliable to make you feel safe." I felt a wave of emotion swell up within me, momentarily choking off my breath. It took a downright Herculean effort not to burst into tears. Was this guy for real? His first priority after readying himself for the day was to make sure his sister felt secure in their home. What kind of sixteen-year-old boy was this fucking attentive? "Thank you, Gabe," I managed to say, my voice tinged with disbelief as I stared at the kitchen knife on my bed. Gabriel was nothing short of a human golden retriever, exuding unconditional warmth and loyalty. His face broke into an even wider grin. "Need me to help you into your chair?" For a second, I was puzzled by his increased joviality. Then it clicked: I had just called him "Gabe" without thinking. ''Well, better than fucking "Gab," I suppose,'' I silently mused, contemplating whether this accidental nickname would have any repercussions. Likely, I was overanalyzing; but in a world still so new to me, trust was a rare commodity¡ªeven if Gabriel was making scepticism increasingly difficult. "Sure, that''d be great," I agreed, my voice tinged with gratitude. With an air of practised care, Gabriel helped me into my wheelchair, ensuring I was seated properly before carefully letting go of me, as if scared I was simply going to fall over if he let go too quickly. "Remember to be careful with the knife, Sera," he reminded me as he made his way to the door. "See you later. I¡¯ll zip you another message when I¡¯m about to head home from the store, alright?" "Yeah, that would be great, thank you. See you, Gabe," I replied, watching as the door clicked shut behind him. Once alone, I turned my attention to the arduous task of changing clothes. Even though it was still a struggle, I noticed a tangible improvement from the day before. The boost in my Body Attribute had upgraded me to incredibly weak, all the way up from almost wholly incapacitated. I was still a long way from athletic, but I wasn''t feeling like a wet noodle trying to move about anymore. I was slightly more al-dente now. After navigating the complexities of pants and a shirt, I wheeled myself to the mirror. I peeled off the old spray-bandage from my forehead, replacing it with a fresh patch. The bandage, of course, a cover for a head injury that didn''t actually exist. Oliver had been immediately concerned at dinner yesterday when he saw it. Thanks to Gabriel''s knack for quick thinking, we''d concocted a harmless story. "I accidentally dropped something on my face," I''d said, and with a couple of reassuring nods from Gabriel, Oliver had accepted the simple, yet effective tale. It had garnered me a couple of quips and jokes from Gabriel¡ªto further sell the story, I¡¯m sure¡ªbut ultimately, it had worked to fool Oliver and arrest his concerns. With that minor act of deception out of the way, I rolled into the living room. It was another day of grinding ahead of me. Fueled by the excitement of downright guaranteed progress, I was laser-focused on today''s mission: Grinding the Reflex Attribute. My plan was to tread carefully, keeping my Body Attribute at a stagnant zero for at least the first week. This would help sell the illusion of a natural recovery and reduce any undue suspicions. Last night, as I''d laid in bed before using the Rest Function, the gears in my mind had whirred with the intricacies of a new grinding strategy. Now, I was chomping at the bit to execute it. The thrill was akin to the anticipation of a dopamine hit¡ªthough in this case, the high was from pure, unadulterated experience points straight to my veins. Wasting no more time, I deftly navigated my wheelchair to gather the specific objects I''d need for my Reflex-oriented training. Once I had everything, I positioned myself strategically in the living room''s epicentre. I made sure to choose an area clear of any furniture or loose items; the last thing I needed was to accidentally hit something during my self-made Reflex drill. ''Okay, here goes nothing,'' I thought to myself, balancing two makeshift balls¡ªeach about the size of an old-world orange¡ªin my hands. They were really just clumps of socks rolled tightly together, their lightweight heft more manageable for my current state of utter pathetic physical strength. Carefully, I launched the first sock-ball into the air with my right hand while simultaneously tossing the one in my left hand toward the now-empty right hand. My eyes followed the airborne sock-ball as it reached its peak and began its descent. With a quick flick of my left wrist, I caught it, completing my first rudimentary juggling cycle. Yes, you heard that right¡ªI was attempting to juggle. But don''t mock my endeavours! Given my limited mobility and my entire world being essentially confined within the four walls of the apartment, juggling had seemed like an ingenious way to boost my Reflex Attribute. Besides, I''d have the last laugh when my Attribute skyrocketed, all thanks to this seemingly trivial exercise! ¡®Let the grinding commence,¡¯ I thought with a sly grin, as I started with the next set.
It didn¡¯t take too long until I was greeted with that sweet, sweet dopamine injection.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 1100xp.
A quick glance at the timer I had set when I started revealed that nearly 20 minutes had elapsed since I embarked on this sock-juggling quest. ''Not as quick a gain as I''d hoped, but I did also start at 1 for Reflex compared to my -1 in Body, so comparing the two isn¡¯t exactly fair,'' I reasoned internally. ''It stands to reason that the exercises needed for experience would get progressively harder¡­ So, what if I added a third ball? The increased difficulty should yield faster experience gains, right?'' Fortunately, I had prepped several sock-bundles in advance¡ªseven, to be exact. It''s what I could cobble together from the oddly extensive sock collection I had inherited from Sera. ''Why the hell did Sera have such a massive array of socks to begin with? Seriously, I counted more than 30 pairs! And yet, she only had three different outfits, not including that one evening dress. What sort of fucked up priorities did she have?'' I couldn''t help but ponder this wardrobe enigma as if it were some cosmic joke. Shaking off the trivial thought, I grabbed a third sock-ball and weighed it in my hands. In my previous life, I''d seen countless street performers and short-form videos of professionals juggling all manner of objects, making it look effortless. I, on the other hand, had the coordination of a drunken octopus, so this was going to be a serious challenge. Yet, if mastering a three-ball juggle could cut down 5 to 10 minutes off each experience drop, it would be a worthy investment of my time in the long run. So, with renewed determination, I readied myself for the next level of my juggling grind.
Twenty minutes of near-constant focus had my three-sock juggling act starting to look somewhat competent¡ªaround 70% success rate by my estimation. Granted, my muscles ached from the unaccustomed effort and several sock-bundles had strayed beyond my immediate reach, but it was a small price for progress. I had enough backup sock-bundles to keep me from pausing my grind to collect the strays all the time. Just as I was fine-tuning my technique¡ªthinking of chaining sets together to create a seamless juggle¡ªthe system chimed in with a set of notifications that shattered my concentration. Sock bundles flew in wild arcs, scattering across the room like startled birds.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 1000xp. [System]: [Juggling] Skill unlocked. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 900xp.
"What the fuck is this and why is it here?!" I blurted out, my voice ricocheting off the empty walls. The issue was as glaring as it was baffling: [Juggling] wasn''t a skill that existed in Neon Dragons. The very game-world¡¯s framework I was operating under¡ªor at least, that I thought I was operating under. This was a wrinkle I hadn''t anticipated, a stark discrepancy that loomed unfathomably large in its implications. Could it mean that this world had its own rules, distinct from Neon Dragons? And if so, what did that mean for all the strategies and assumptions I had built up to this point? A sense of unease twisted my insides, expanding like a shadow in my thoughts. This was more than just a Skill discrepancy; it was a question mark. A portent, challenging the foundational knowledge I had been leaning on to navigate this unfamiliar world so far. It begged the unsettling question: What else didn''t I know about this world¡­? Chapter 9 - Perks and Projectiles Sitting there, a wave of disbelief washing over me, I found the taste of disillusionment rather bitter. ¡®Why did I even expect anything different? Just when things seem somewhat manageable, the universe throws me another fucking curveball. No smooth sailing for Sera, no ma¡¯am! Not in this cyberpunk reality! Might as well add a sprinkling of unpredictable Skills into the mix and god fucking knows what else.¡¯ The more I pondered it, however, the more absurd it seemed that I''d expected this world to perfectly mirror Neon Dragons. I, myself, was the living anomaly in this world already, wasn''t I? A ghost in the machine, an aberration in the game''s code. Realising this oddly quelled the storm of frustrations in me. If the game-world could accommodate a variable as unpredictable as me, then why fuss over the emergence of a few unknown Skills or a few variables that I wasn¡¯t aware of? The prospect of these new Skills being available to me was actually kind of exhilarating. After all, who wouldn¡¯t love to become an instant genius at whatever they attempted, courtesy of a cheat-like System¡¯s Skills?! And let''s face it, double-dipping into Skill and Attribute experience wasn''t exactly a penalty¡ªit was a win-win. Each juggle could potentially boost both my [Juggling] Skill and my Reflex Attribute, doubling the reward for my time and effort. But if these justifications failed to convince my sceptical side¡ªwell, then I was truly and honestly boned, as I was trying real fucking hard to rationalise all of this nonsense! As disorienting as this newfound revelation was, it also came with its own form of sick, somewhat twisted, liberation. The rules clearly weren''t as fixed as I''d thought, and that meant I could potentially bend them, twist them, even break them if I had to. ¡®After all,¡¯ I silently mused to myself, ¡®when life throws you curveballs, sometimes the best you can do is learn how to juggle.¡¯
And learning to juggle I did. With renewed determination, I collected the scattered sock-balls that had become the unlikely tools of this newfound Skill. Pushing through an exhaustive half-hour session, my arms reached the brink of rebellion, aching as if ready to secede from the rest of my body. Yet as I perused the notifications flickering in my cerebral interface, a wash of satisfaction replaced the soreness.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 800xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 700xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 600xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 500xp.
I was tantalisingly close, just a measly 100xp away from hitting Level 1 in [Juggling]. That milestone would bring a data dump of finesse and technique, an undeniable performance enhancer for my grinding routine. I''d chosen to strategically exhaust my Bonus XP on both the Skill and Attribute, eyeing to unlock that instant download of knowledge as a catalyst for future gains as soon as possible. Still, there was no denying my physical limitations. My arms screamed for a break, issuing a non-negotiable demand for rest. ''I really need to diversify,'' I mused. ''I can''t afford to be relying on the Rest Function or, God forbid, twiddle my thumbs doing nothing, every time my garbage physique hits a wall; ¡®cause that happens a goddamn lot. That''s like flushing precious grinding time down the toilet with spiteful abandon!'' I made a mental note to coax Gabriel into procuring some beginner''s resources for my mental grind, perhaps a rudimentary Crown or a [Programming] guide. Learning to juggle both the physical and the digital spheres could provide invaluable leverage in the long run¡ªpun definitely intended. After all, my wheelchair-bound condition made grinding my Body Attribute a moot point for the time being. Unveiling the pathways to [Hacking] and [Programming], however, would not only fill those idle gaps but also seed long-term advantages. Yes, for someone whose body was still a work in progress, having a mental edge was not a luxury¡ªit was a downright necessity. Considering that I didn¡¯t really have anything else available to me at the moment, I had no option but to begrudgingly resort to the Rest Function. It was the lesser of two evils, but still a reluctant concession to my body''s limitations. ''Let''s see, back when my Body Attribute was below even a pathetic zero, it took around four hours for a full stamina reset. So, with the extra level in Body, should five hours be sufficient to bring me back to peak form?'' I pondered, mentally calculating the most time-efficient way to recharge. However, upon further reflection, I opted for the four-hour rest window. It seemed prudent to err on the conservative side; it was better to risk under-resting than to squander an entire hour for no real gains. Even though this new life of mine ran on a 24-hour clock just like the old one, giving me vastly more grinding hours than a normal player in Neon Dragons had, those additional hours vanished at an alarming rate when I had to allocate four to five hours of rest for every hour of grinding I did. As I input the four hours into the timer and tapped ''confirm'', I focused intently on my body''s state, paying particular attention to the fatigue seeping into my bones and the jelly-like fatigue in my arms. My eyes fluttered open, sending me spiralling into the all-too-familiar state of complete and utter confusion that came with using the Rest Function.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 04:00:00 [System]: 200 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
A quick self-assessment revealed a delightful surprise: My conservative choice in rest duration had paid off. "Yes! Take that, you lousy stamina!" I exclaimed to my empty living room, my face breaking into a grin of pure triumph. My body felt as good as new, which meant that the single level bump in my Body Attribute hadn''t necessitated an extra hour of downtime for full recovery. Eager to pick up where I''d left off, I scooped up my sock-bundles and resumed my juggling practice. However, this time, I made one minor modification: I aimed to not expend my Bonus XP on the Skill. I was a mere 100 XP away from reaching the first level in [Juggling], so using Bonus XP wouldn''t really accelerate my progress. Plus, I had reservations about the Skill''s long-term utility; I wasn''t sure what Perks levelling it up might unlock¡ªif any. This also gave me a convenient opportunity to experiment with selectively applying my Bonus XP, a tactic I had yet to try. To say that I was stoked for this next phase of my grind would be a staggering understatement. If all went as planned with the Bonus XP distribution, this next XP drop would catapult both my [Juggling] Skill to Level 1 and my Reflex Attribute to Level 2. The anticipation was electrifying! After nearly eight frenetic minutes of juggling¡ªmy palpable excitement causing me to speed up and consequently botch a few throws more than normal¡ªI finally hit the jackpot. A cascade of System Notifications flashed across my cerebral interface, confirming the much-awaited double level-up and my Bonus XP experiment at the same time. And let me tell you, the euphoria that blasted through my system was otherworldly¡ªakin to a shot of pure adrenaline mixed with ecstasy.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 600xp. [System]: Reflex Attribute has reached 2. [System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill. [System]: [Juggling] has reached Level 1.
The instant my Reflex Attribute ticked up to Level 2, I felt a profound, almost seismic, shift throughout my body. My muscles tingled, as if they were being supercharged with bursts of electric energy. The neurons fired differently, more efficiently, cutting the delay between thought and action by milliseconds that felt like eternities. My hands and arms, previously a tad sluggish, suddenly felt lighter and more responsive. It was as if the basic coding of my body had been optimised, updated. I had nudged a step closer to the realm of your average human reflexes, and even this incremental change felt like shedding a layer of invisible weights. The finesse and muscle memory that I had been struggling to build felt like they had just received a firmware upgrade, filling me with a newfound sense of control and mastery over my physical self. And then came the [Juggling] Skill update. If I thought the Reflex upgrade was exhilarating, the instantaneous download of knowledge and muscle memory that came with Level 1 in [Juggling] was a revelation. Much like with my previous Skill upgrades, it was akin to being handed a roadmap to a city I thought I knew, only to realise I''d been navigating blind alleys and one-way streets all along. My prior juggling attempts¡ªclumsy, inefficient, downright laughable¡ªwere now viewed through the lens of crisp, professional technique. My hands instinctively knew how to adjust the arc of each throw, the rotation of my wrists, the timing between catches and releases. I immediately realised how I could incorporate more sock-bundles to up the complexity and, thus, my future XP gains. I could see pathways to faster juggling, to tricks, to making the exercise not just a grind but an art, in and of itself. Gasping for air, I felt like I''d been hit by the proverbial truck-kun from all our beloved isekai narratives. The tidal wave of downloaded information and muscle memory had left me momentarily stunned, as if my cognitive and physical systems needed a second to reboot and integrate the fresh data. It was a momentary disorientation that, while jarring, was a minor inconvenience in exchange for what felt like a downright cheat-code for real life. "Alright, let''s see what else you''ve got," I mumbled to myself, my tone tinged with anticipation as the torrent of incoming data finally plateaued. I navigated through the G.E.M.A. System''s interface to pull up my brand-new Skill window. In Neon Dragons, attaining Level 1 in a Skill granted you access to its corresponding Perk tree, which basically served as your roadmap for future grinding and specialisation. Since [Juggling] was an unexpected Skill¡ªan outlier that shouldn''t even exist based on my comprehensive understanding of the Neon Dragons universe¡ªI was particularly keen to find out what kind of Perks it might have had in store, if any. The UI proved user-friendly, mirroring its in-game counterpart almost uncannily, and it took me just a couple of minutes to pull up the Perk tree for [Juggling]. As my eyes scanned the various options and their tantalising implications, a sly, self-satisfied grin carved its way across my face. ''Oh yeah, levelling [Juggling] is definitely back on the menu,'' I thought, already conjuring an intricate web of strategies and build options for the future. Skills in Neon Dragons functioned under a nuanced system: Every three Skill levels netted you a Perk point specific to that Skill¡¯s Perk tree, and an additional Perk point was up for grabs every ten levels. On top of this, every second Character Level offered a general Perk point that you could sink into any Skill¡¯s Perk tree which you''d levelled up to at least Level 3. The good news was that [Juggling], a Skill that hadn''t been part of the original Neon Dragons lineup, still followed these established rules. The first Perks available were clearly gated, the digital text reading: "Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]". The game usually presented players with a range of four Perks to start¡ªa buffet of entry-level benefits to suit various playstyles. Some Perk trees were outliers, offering either three or a generous five options, but [Juggling] was squarely in the mainstream with four introductory Perks. But the choices didn''t end there. Each Perk often acted as a gateway to specialised branches or higher-tier upgrades, adding layers of complexity. These subsequent options followed a tiered reveal system: Once you unlocked the prerequisite Perks, the immediate next tier became visible, but anything beyond that remained shrouded in mystery. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. This structure made long-term planning a blend of educated guesswork and calculated leaps of faith. It had been a subject of heated debate among the player community, dividing those who loved the intrigue from those who modded their games to see the whole Perk tree from square one. The decision had been justified as a way to promote replayability, nudging players to experiment with different build paths over multiple playthroughs. But here''s the kicker for me: Without the luxury of game mods or the option to reset my choices, this design feature transformed into a genuine conundrum. How could I plot a precise course through this labyrinth of Perks if I only had the foggiest idea of what lay beyond the next turn? ''Damn you, Miyazaki,'' I mentally grumbled, directing my vexation at the lead designer of Neon Dragons. His game design quirks, often a blend of the eccentric and the sublime, were now testing my patience. This particular feature, which had initially seemed like a clever twist to me in my old life, was now proving to be an absolute pain in my ass. ¡®There better not be a fucking poison-swamp waiting for me around here, or I swear to god¡­¡¯ I continued to absent-mindedly lament the situation, as I looked over the Perk options once again. [Ambidexterity] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]] Unlock the true potential of both your hands! You gain the ability to wield and use weapons or tools with equal skill in either hand, eliminating any penalties for off-hand usage. [Predict Trajectory] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]] Become one with the laws of physics! You gain the ability to visualise the path of any thrown or falling object. This Perk also allows you to fine-tune your bodily movements to intercept and catch thrown or falling objects with greater ease. [Ricochet] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]] Master the art of calculated bounces! You gain the ability to ricochet any object you juggle or throw up to one additional time, without it breaking, shattering, or losing momentum, regardless of the object¡¯s inherent properties. [Part Of The Show] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]] Turn near-misses into awe-inspiring feats! You gain the ability to seamlessly catch a falling object within a certain radius around you that you''ve juggled or thrown into the air yourself, making it appear as if the moment was scripted and intentional. As I mulled over the intricacies of the Perk options once more, I thought about an additional nuance that could significantly impact my strategic choices. Several Perks appeared in the trees of multiple Skills, weaving a complex web of possible paths for my personal build development. For instance, Perks like [Ambidexterity] and [Ricochet] weren''t exclusive to the [Juggling] Skill; they showed up in other trees as well, that I was already aware of. This realisation presented both opportunities and dilemmas. On one hand, it gave me the flexibility to acquire these Perks through other Skill trees, should I choose to specialise in those areas later. On the other, it added a layer of complexity to my decision-making process: Was it wiser to grab these Perks now, or to reserve them for potential acquisition through other Skills, thereby freeing up my precious [Juggling] Perk points for something more exclusive to that Skill? Navigating this newly tangible world, where unknown Skills like [Juggling] could suddenly pop up and offer potentially game-changing Perks like [Ambidexterity], cranked up the complexity of my decision-making process even further. I mean, who could''ve guessed that something as innocuous as juggling could be a literal game-changer in terms of Perks? It thrust me into a realm of uncertainty, where every choice felt both exhilarating and fraught with potential regret. And let''s not forget¡ªthis wasn''t just a game anymore; this was my life. In the end, it was becoming clear that the choices I made would have to be meticulously balanced against a trinity of core considerations. First, I had to weigh the immediate utility of each Perk, assessing how quickly it could offer tangible benefits. Second, I had to think about my long-term survival, prioritising Perks that would keep me alive and efficient in the harsh, unpredictable world of Neon Dragons. Finally, I had to take stock of the unique offerings within the [Juggling] Skill tree, eyeing those exclusive Perks that couldn''t be acquired elsewhere. "Damn, talk about information overload," I sighed, my thoughts wrapping around the complexities like fingers around a Rubik''s cube. I shut down the G.E.M.A. interface with a mental flick¡ªno use gnashing my teeth over decisions I couldn''t even make yet. After all, I was still a grind-fest and a half away from unlocking my first Perk point. But this little escapade had solidified one thing in my game plan: I needed to try my hand at every conceivable activity at least once. Who knew what other off-the-wall Skills like [Juggling] were lurking in the shadows, waiting to give me an edge? Brushing aside these thoughts for the moment, I shifted my focus back to the immediate task. I grabbed my trio of favourite sock-balls and resumed my juggling routine. But within seconds, I realised how absurdly easy it had become. My upgraded Reflex attribute, paired with the skill download of Level 1 [Juggling], had turned me into a one-handed juggling savant, effortlessly keeping the balls aloft as if they were floating on air. I was astounded by the stark transformation. It was like upgrading from a flip phone to a smartphone; the capabilities had just exponentially shot up. ''Is this really the difference just one Level can make?'' I marvelled internally, as I practically juggled circles around my previous, amateurish self. My old routine was now laughably trivial, a walk in the park compared to the performance I was now capable of. Clearly, the time had come to elevate the stakes. If my aim was to grind both my Reflex attribute and my [Juggling] Skill, then I needed a new challenge. With a shrug, I grabbed a fourth and then even a fifth sock-ball, making the leap from amateur hour to the major leagues. I commenced my second round of juggling-grind for the day, and almost immediately stumbled upon a cadence, a flow, that I had been blissfully unaware of prior to achieving Level 1 in [Juggling]. It was as if a symphony conductor had suddenly appeared in my mind, coordinating my hands and eyes in an intricate dance of airborne balls.
The rest of my morning disintegrated into a kaleidoscope of flying colours and perpetual motion. I was a one-woman circus, each toss and catch fine-tuning my Reflex attribute and bolstering my [Juggling] Skill. Whenever fatigue threatened to interfere, I''d engage the Rest Function. It was like hitting a biological pause button, allowing me to recharge and resume my relentless pursuit of excellence. When the third rest period rolled around, a solid nine or ten hours after I''d first opened my eyes to the dawn that very morning, I finally indulged myself in the stack of notifications I had allowed to accumulate. Why spoil the magic by checking each alert one by one when I could bask in the avalanche of achievements all at once? It was akin to cashing in a heap of completed quests at a quest-hub, each turn-in a mini jackpot in its own right. I couldn''t suppress the grin that slashed across my face as I sifted through the compiled notifications. There''s a particular joy in the aggregate, in seeing the sum of your efforts laid out before you, a multi-faceted gem made all the more magnificent by its individual components. Needless to say, that moment was the high note, the crescendo, one might say, on an already exhilarating day.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 500xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 400xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 200xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 100xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 0xp.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 04:00:00 [System]: 200 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 100xp. [System]: [Juggling] has reached Level 2. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 0xp. [System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
The rate of my grind had decelerated considerably after depleting my reservoir of Bonus XP, but the payoff was undeniably worth it. Achieving that coveted second Level in [Juggling] had refined my dexterity further, enabling me to juggle a total of six sock-balls with fluid ease. Now, you might think adding just one more ball to the mix would be a cinch, but let me tell you, once you crossed that four-ball threshold¡ªtwo for each hand¡ªthe challenge spiked dramatically. Introducing a third object into the rotation for either hand transformed the task into a high-stakes balancing act, a near-acrobatic feat that tested my coordination to its limits. But the Level up offered more than just a numerical boost; it recalibrated my technique down to the subtlest of details once again. Those minute flicks of my wrists, which I had once naively considered impeccable, were revised and optimised. It was as though the Skill Level had administered a direct injection of elite muscle memory into my system, instantly illuminating the breadth of my previous ignorance. I couldn''t help but marvel at my newfound mastery while also lamenting my prior ineptitude. ''Is this going to be a recurring theme?'' I mused to myself. ''With each Skill Level I gain, will I look back and cringe at how pitifully unskilled I was before?'' Ah, the paradox of progress; the better you get, the worse you realise you were. Not entirely drained of stamina, I was keen to capitalise on the improved energy efficiency that the 2nd Level in [Juggling] seemed to provide. The act of juggling had become slightly less taxing, allowing me to sustain my rhythm for a slightly longer period of time. However, my ambitions of continuing the grind a bit longer were short-lived. "Whoa, you can jugg¡ª" The sudden voice, erupting from the direction of the front door, sent a jolt of adrenaline through me that made me panic, hard. Hey, they say owning up to your mistakes is the path to redemption, right? In a knee-jerk reaction, I launched the sock-ball that was nearest to my right hand toward the intrusive voice, as if a flimsy piece of stuffed fabric could serve as my shield against an unexpected intruder. The "intruder," it turns out, was none other than my own brother, Gabriel. In my hyper-focused state, I had completely overlooked the "Coming home" message he had sent through my cerebral interface. Mental memo: Check your messages more frequently. Oh, and did I mention that in my moment of panic, I had instinctively activated an Ability from my [Blademaster] Trait? Yeah¡­ I unleashed [Blademaster''s Throw], catapulting the sock-ball at what felt like Mach 5 straight at Gabriel, who had just stepped through the door. The tableau was almost comically surreal; all that was missing were a few sonic booms to round out my spectacular lapse in judgement. Shockingly enough, my aim was true¡ªI nailed him square between the eyes. Bullseye! My fleeting sense of triumph crumbled instantly, replaced by a knot of dread as I caught sight of Gabriel''s unmistakably irritated expression. There I was, seated amid a chaotic sprawl of sock-balls, like a general in the midst of a ludicrous battlefield. I didn''t even have the chance to skim through the notifications which had apparently been triggered by my ill-advised projectile attack; Gabriel was already advancing toward me. "Wait, Wait! Hold on, Gabe! I haven''t fully recov¡ª" Before I could muster any kind of excuse, I found myself ensnared in a bear hug so tight it lifted me clear out of my wheelchair. My legs dangled uselessly, resembling nothing so much as the limp strands of spaghetti that they were. "Mmmghhgrbl hffrrnng," was my feeble attempt at articulating "it was an accident," my words stifled by the fabric of his slightly perspiration-dampened work attire. "An accident, you say? Real smooth, throwing stuff at your own brother after I even gave you a heads-up that I was on my way, you stupid blank," Gabriel scolded, the edges of his feigned fury softening as he gently lowered me back into my wheelchair. A slight pout crept onto my lips. "Okay, you''ve got me there. Sorry, Gabe. That really was my bad," I conceded, feeling a slight blush of embarrassment warm my cheeks. There was no skirting around it; this blunder was squarely on me. "So, since when did you become a juggling maestro?" Gabriel questioned, clearly still bewildered by the unexpected spectacle he''d walked into. I opened my mouth to answer, then caught myself. "How about a trade? I''ll tell you if you go retrieve the sock-ball that rocketed out of our apartment," I proposed, mischief twinkling in my eyes. He rolled his eyes but relented, stepping out for a moment. When he returned, triumphantly holding the sock-ball aloft like some kind of war trophy, I couldn''t help but laugh. "Alright, you''ve held up your end of the bargain. The truth is, I learned to juggle today. Just today, that is," I confessed. His eyes widened. "Today? You''re fucking with me. You look like you''ve been doing it for years!" I shook my head. "Honestly, it''s not that difficult, or maybe it''s just a freak Skill that I picked up accidentally?¡± Yes, really. I hadn¡¯t been able to stop myself, despite my best efforts. I was not sorry for it, either. "Well, whatever the case may be, I''m just happy to see you exercising, doing something energetic. And you seem really cheerful today, too, on top of that," he observed, his eyes softening with a hint of sibling affection. Just then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Gabriel reached under his shirt and pulled out a leather holster. Unsnapping it open, he presented it to me¡ªit was the combat knife he''d promised. "Here, I didn''t forget. It''s not much, but it''s better than a kitchen knife," Gabriel said, placing the combat knife in my hands. It had a certain rough-hewn charm; the craftsmanship was far from perfect, but its weight had a practical heft to it that spoke of utility over aesthetics. "Wow, Gabe, this is... thank you. Honestly," I managed to say, real emotions bubbling up inside of me. It still felt strange to have someone care so deeply about me, even if it was just Sera¡¯s brother. The knife might have lacked refinement, but it was a sincere gift, one that would undoubtedly prove invaluable in the coming days and weeks, and that, combined, meant more than any level of craftsmanship at the moment¡­
[¡ª Attribute Information: Reflex 2 ¡ª 800 / 2,000 XP ¡ª] [The measure of a person¡¯s quickness and dexterity. Determines the overall speed, accuracy and dexterity of a person. Couples with the Intuition Attribute to provide enhanced reaction speed as well.] Chapter 10 - Emotions "Don''t mention it, sis. That''s what big brothers are for," Gabriel said nonchalantly, which, honestly, was pretty cool.. "Better not hurl that knife at me when I come home tomorrow though, or I''m taking it back," he warned, his eyes meeting mine in a look that suggested he was half-joking but also half-serious. "Fair point. I really am sorry about the sock-ball, Gabe," I conceded, quietly adding another apology for the Mach-5 sock attack. Gabriel then came over to my wheelchair, where I had clumsily been carrying around the old kitchen knife. I had been toting it around all day, not quite sure of its purpose but feeling obligated to have some sort of placeholder until he returned with the promised weapon to keep my story straight. With a sigh, he retrieved it and returned it to its more domestic setting in the kitchen. Meanwhile, I turned my attention back to the combat knife he had given me. Gripping it firmly, I let the contours settle into my palm as my [Knives] Skill went to work, instantly breaking down the blade''s characteristics and potential uses. Despite its lacklustre craftsmanship, it had a gritty reliability that I couldn''t help but appreciate. The knife itself was a genuine combat knife, the kind you''d see strapped to the thigh of operators or gritty army grunts. Its blade was about 18cm long and about 4cm wide, crafted from what looked like some sort of carbon steel alloy. The cutting edge looked menacing and definitely sharp, even if the craftsmanship was a little shoddy; I could see minor imperfections and nicks along the blade as I inspected it more closely. It had a full tang, giving it a certain heft that imbued a sense of durability, and its handle was wrapped in what appeared to be a worn synthetic material, intended for grip. In my comparatively small hands, the knife looked almost comically oversized, like a child playing with an adult''s tool. As I held the knife, however, rotating it to scrutinise its blade and grip, I sensed an implicit affinity with it. This was probably my [Knives] Skill at work, having already bestowed upon me a foundational muscle memory and an innate understanding of knife-handling as a whole. Despite its unrefined make, the weapon that Gabriel had given me was undeniably a better fit for the hazardous existence I found myself increasingly entangled in than any domestic kitchen knife could ever aspire to be. As I slid the knife back into its worn leather sheath that accompanied the holster, Gabriel returned from the kitchen. "Rule number one: No throwing this at your brother¡ªor any family members, for that matter. Including Mum," he emphasised in a stern tone. "I promise, no family targets," I assured him sincerely. I had no intention of causing harm to anyone in my¡ªSera''s family. As for Valeria, she was a nebulous variable, but I was fairly confident that violence wouldn''t be necessary to stay in her good graces. At least not violence targeting her, directly. "How much did this cost, by the way?" I questioned, my eyes following him as he began gathering the scattered sock-balls littering the living room floor. "Don''t worry about it. It was¡ª" he began, but I cut him off. "Gabe, seriously. I want to know so I can pay you back. I don''t want to start this new chapter of my life owing creds to the only person I interact with on a daily basis," I asserted. I had no intention of spiralling back into a labyrinth of debt, juggling numerous creditors until I lost track of whom I owed what. I''d been down that chaotic path before and had no wish to return. For a moment, Gabriel paused in his sock-ball retrieval, pondering deeply. His usual chattiness had abandoned him, replaced by a conspicuous silence that spoke volumes. I chose not to break it, giving him the space to think. Eventually, he handed me the reclaimed pyramid of sock-balls. As I nodded in grateful acknowledgment, he exhaled deeply and finally spoke. "Listen, Sera. You''ve changed¡ªa lot. I don''t really know how to say this, but this ''new you'' is different in so many ways... Very different." His words struck me like a bolt, freezing me in place. Our eyes met as he continued. "Don''t misunderstand me; it''s not bad. It''s just... different. And considering the coma, it''s not your fault. But it''s weird, y¡¯know? Feeling like the little sister I''ve known for years has completely vanished, never to return." I was speechless. What could I possibly say? He was spot on. The original Sera, his little sister, had died, either when I entered her body or sometime before. There was no mimicking her, no faking it. Gabriel would have seen through any facade instantly. He seemed to interpret my silence as unease, perhaps even fear, as he quickly went on to elaborate. "Listen, Sera, don''t get me wrong, alright? I''m not saying the new you is bad or anything, but¡­ It''s like you''ve done a total 180, and it''s messing with my head. You''re talking about paying me back, asking for a combat knife, dealing with Mum like you''re some kind of corpo-genius, and hell, learning to juggle in one freaking day out of nowhere? This is all fresh terrain, things the old you would have never even considered doing, and it''s intense," Gabriel''s voice was laced with so much emotion, it was like you could feel the air vibrating around him. He turned away, his shoulders quivering just a bit. "The most messed-up part? It makes me feel like I have failed you. Like, I couldn''t keep you from spiralling down into that dark pit you were in¡­ Listen, I tried, okay? I really did. Tried my damndest to understand what was going on inside your head, but it was like you already checked out, like your soul was just done. And then you disappear, and it was like the world just dropped out from under me, you know?" The room was thick with a kind of silent tension, and I knew he was struggling, probably wiping away tears he didn¡¯t want me to see. "And then, out of fucking nowhere, you return, only to be stuck in a coma. One that the docs couldn¡¯t even tell us if you would ever wake up from. And then suddenly, you do! It''s like some cyber-god somewhere decided to give you another shot, but with a twist. Giving you a second chance, but robbing you of everything that you were before¡­ "I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s even something the old Sera wouldn¡¯t have loved, honestly. She probably would have greeted such a chance with open arms, based on the last few months that I remember with her¡­ But you''re... different, Sera. So damn different that I can''t even remember if the old you ever had that fire in her eyes like you do now." His voice fractured as he said it, breaking under the weight of awe and heartbreak. He finally turned around, his eyes a mess of tears and questions, looking for something¡ªanything¡ªin mine. "Look, I know I''ve been going on and on, but hear me out on this, if nothing else: I like this new you, Sera. Yeah, I miss the old days, the old you, but seeing you all pumped up and actually giving a damn again? It''s a breath of fresh air, y¡¯know? You''re not just merely existing anymore, you''re living. "The you from a few months back? You didn''t care about nothing anymore. Debts, future plans, even the thought of waking up to another day seemed like it didn''t matter to you¡ªor worse, was downright painful to imagine. But now, it¡¯s like you''re switched on, and whatever you do¡­ don''t lose that spark. Alright?" His voice wobbled a bit, a raw edge to it that was hard to miss. "If you ever hit a wall or something, come to me. Don''t even think twice about it, okay? I''m here for you, always. Just¡­ Please, promise me, if things get dark again, you''ll let me know what¡¯s going on? I¡­ I couldn''t bear the thought of failing you again like that; not being able to pull you back from that edge a second time¡­" His words hung in the air, each syllable carrying a weight so profound it seemed to pull at the very gravity of the room. It felt as if the walls had absorbed his emotion, his vulnerability, and were reflecting it back in a palpable wave that left me stunned and speechless. For a moment, I couldn''t breathe, as if his earnestness had filled the space around us, leaving no room for anything else¡ªnot even air. I stared into his eyes, genuinely seeing him for the first time not just as Sera''s dependable older brother but as a vulnerable 16-year-old kid, besieged by the dread of failing someone he deeply loved. It was like glimpsing through a fissure in his emotional armour, catching a heartbreaking flash of a responsibility he''d taken up far too young, and far too alone. In that instant, I finally pieced together an agonising part of the puzzle that had been Gabriel from the first moment our lives had intersected: The underlying reason he''d always seemed so poised, so unwaveringly mature and put-together. The realisation hit me like a bolt of lightning¡ªGabriel had been forced to grow up quickly, to prematurely become that steadfast anchor for the old Sera as she grappled with her unseen struggles and demons. He had willingly, perhaps subconsciously, jettisoned his own desires and aspirations, forgoing his own adolescent journey, to transform into a formidable shield that could absorb life''s harshest blows on her behalf. And he had done it all without lament or even a moment''s hesitation, sculpting himself into the rock she could hide behind, the guardian that deflected the complexities and darkness life threw her way, so she could fully focus on her own, personal battles¡­ His eyes met mine, and it was as though I could see the reflection of my past and possible future selves, flickering like transient ghosts. The instinct to assure him¡ªto wrap him in a cocoon of comforting lies¡ªwas overpowering, but the piercing sincerity of his plea held me back. This was a raw, unfiltered moment; it would be a travesty to dilute it with even a drop of insincerity. I felt an emotional wall break inside me, one I hadn¡¯t even realised was there until it shattered, and tears started to pool in my eyes. "Gabriel," I started, my voice quivering and barely louder than a whisper. "I can''t fathom what you''re navigating through right now. But listen¡ªreally listen¡­¡± Pausing for a moment, I drew a deep breath to collect my whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. "In my heart of hearts, I truly believe the old Sera never felt like you failed her. I can''t explain it, but deep within me, there¡¯s this indescribable ache¡ªa torment at the mere thought of you feeling like a failure. It''s almost like a phantom emotion, a remnant ghost of what the old Sera truly felt about you." I locked eyes with him, a surge of determination strengthening my voice. "I can¡¯t forecast the future; no one can. But here''s my solemn vow: If I ever feel myself spiralling down that dark abyss again, or any, for that matter, I will reach out. You''ve been my unspoken pillar of strength, even if I¡ªor she¡ªnever overtly acknowledged it. The last thing I ever want is for you to think you''ve failed me. Because you haven¡¯t. And I don¡¯t think you ever will." This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. For a heartbeat, Gabriel seemed hesitant, as though he was wrestling with something colossal within him, a conflict too deep and private to put into words. I couldn''t bear to see him in such turmoil any longer. Shoving aside any lingering doubts, I forcibly rolled my wheelchair forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. At that moment, the dam broke. His body shook as he wept openly on my shoulder, his tears a potent testament to the unbearable weight he''d been shouldering for far too long. I felt a surge of mixed emotions: relief that I could provide him a momentary refuge, but also a loathing I couldn''t quite shake¡ªa resentment for a world that would put a 16-year-old kid like my brother through this. I had always been enamoured with the grim realities depicted in cyberpunk-genre stories, but being thrust into a narrative of this sort, I found myself reevaluating those fascinations for the very first time. This wasn''t a fictional narrative; it was cold, harsh reality. Gabriel''s struggles weren''t even unique, if my knowledge of cyberpunk was in any way accurate; they were probably echoed across the fractured lives of countless others in this bleak world. Tens of thousands of people, if not more, were bound to be enduring the same emotional battles, and the thought disgusted me. For the first time, I recognized the unsettling reality that had lurked at the periphery of my consciousness: I''d been treating this life like a game, like an extension of Neon Dragons, my previously favoured virtual reality. I¡¯d been so wrapped up in my personal odyssey that I¡¯d overlooked the gravitas of the actual human suffering around me. This was no game. The people I interacted with were not mere NPCs, only there to facilitate my own story and fancies. These were living, breathing individuals, each with their own narratives of pain, hope, or despair. And I was now a part of this intricate web, my actions capable of rippling through their lives in ways I could hardly fathom. As I held Gabriel, letting him unload years of pent-up emotional agony, the reality of my situation truly sank in. This was my life now¡ªa life inextricably tied to others, subject to the unbearable weight of very real consequences. And it was about time I started taking it seriously.
The remainder of the day unfolded in an emotional haze, a nebulous blend of unspoken understanding and introspective silence. Initially, an electric charge of heightened emotions lingered between Gabriel and me, as palpable as static in dry air. But as the hours slipped by, the tension gradually evaporated, giving way to the familiar rapport we''d shared over the past few days. Given the emotional torrent we''d just navigated, I opted not to broach the subject of my upcoming mental Attribute training. It would have to wait¡ªa day or two perhaps, contingent on Gabriel''s continued emotional state. Without the option to use the Rest Function¡ªI couldn''t very well slump unconscious in my chair without sending Gabriel into a worried frenzy¡ªI had limited time to further hone my skills. However, each tick of the clock found me lost in a labyrinth of contemplation about the trajectory of my future. While the cornerstone objectives of my immediate plans remained largely unaltered, my outlook underwent a fundamental shift. I found my previous schemes disconcertingly self-focused, a revelation that filled me with retrospective shame, particularly in light of the soul-baring conversation I''d had with Gabriel earlier. No longer would my blueprint for the future be solely a series of checkboxes for personal milestones. Interwoven now were considerations for Gabriel''s well-being and strategies aimed at uplifting Sera¡¯s¡ªor rather, my¡ªfamily. The scope had broadened; my ambitions had matured, deepening to accommodate responsibilities and loyalties that extended far beyond the confines of my personal desires. To truly inhabit this world meant forging authentic, meaningful relationships with the people in it. The closest relationships at hand were with Sera''s family¡ªmy family. I also committed to delving deeper into the fabric of Sera''s former life, to seamlessly weave myself into the tapestry of her existence. One particular goal had crystallised out from all others: I needed to dismantle the psychological partitions between Sera and myself. Although I''d taken steps toward this before, it was painfully evident that I had not fully absorbed her life into my own. In the corridors of my mind, I remained a distinct entity, separate from Sera. But for the sake of lasting relationships, of thriving in this unfamiliar landscape, such compartmentalization was untenable. Gabriel wasn''t merely Sera''s brother¡ªhe was my brother. Oliver wasn''t just Sera¡¯s and Gabriel¡¯s father¡ªhe was also my father. And Valeria wasn''t simply Sera''s mother, as much as I wanted that to be the case; she was my mother, too. It would probably take a while for me to accept that part in particular, but it was something that, ultimately, I had to come to terms with. These were the mental barriers that I needed to dismantle, over the days, weeks, and perhaps months ahead, until I could genuinely consider myself a true denizen of this new world. Previously, there had been a niggling suspicion deep within me that perhaps this was all a fleeting dream, one that would dissolve into the ether, negating the need for my full integration. But Gabriel''s emotional eruption had shattered that illusion. Such a mindset was not merely unproductive; it was a stumbling block to my ambitions; something that would continue to hold me back, no matter how much I tried to succeed. The well-being of Sera, her family, and by extension, myself, were not mutually exclusive objectives¡ªthey were facets of a singular gem that could only shine its brightest when each aspect was given due care. I may have been lulled by the trope of the many isekai narratives I had consumed, where a flawed protagonist was whisked away to another world to merely replicate the mistakes of their former life. But this was not a fantastical tale spun by the whims of an author; this was reality, and the sooner I fully engaged with it, the sooner I could truly thrive.
By the time Gabriel and I decided to call it a night, Oliver was still conspicuously absent from the home front. A work emergency had ensnared him, potentially tethering him to the office for the entirety of the night, a reality he had conveyed to us via a terse message. Gabriel and I had shared a rudimentary dinner, cobbled together from a local vendor for the modest sum of two creds. Over the meal, I discovered that the combat knife, complete with its sheath and holster, had set Gabriel back by a staggering 94 creds. For people of our economic standing, the amount was nothing short of astronomical. Despite the heavy weight of guilt that was already anchoring me, I felt a fresh surge of it as I urged him to return the purchase. I couldn''t reconcile myself with such an exorbitant expense, especially given the fabrications that had led to it. But Gabriel was unyielding, revealing that he had been squirrelling away funds for an unspecified period, stashing them for non-urgent needs¡ªa financial nest-egg, so to speak. According to him, leveraging those savings to ensure his sister''s safety was precisely the sort of endeavour he had been planning for. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles as I absorbed his words, but his tone had admitted no further debate. Silently, I vowed to repay this hefty debt as swiftly as I could manage¡ªwhenever that may be. As I reclined in bed, my mind rifling through the chaos of the day''s events, a realisation dawned on me. Amidst the emotional turbulence and ensuing discussions with Gabriel, I had neglected to check any of the notifications that had arrived since his homecoming. This included the alerts that had pinged during my ill-conceived sock-attack, as well as any updates related to the smidgen of training I had managed to squeeze in before nightfall. I summoned the notifications on my interface, my eyes widening involuntarily as they scanned the screen. A soft gasp escaped my lips; I hadn''t anticipated gains of this magnitude.
[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Throwing] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.
''Fuck me, 200xp in both Intuition and [Throwing] from a single toss? That bullseye really must''ve hit different... And using [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] as an augmenting factor couldn''t have hurt,'' I contemplated, meticulously sifting through the day''s bounty of experience points. ''Upgrading [Throwing] should be a priority as soon as possible, ideally complimenting my [Juggling] Skill grind in some way¡­'' My musings on experience gains transitioned into a more urgent internal dialogue as I squared away the numbers. ''Alright, Sera, enough fucking around. It''s time to clamp down and drill deep,'' I mentally rallied, steeling myself for the impending ordeal. I had to confront this sooner or later: The true boundaries of this altered, System-integrated body. And better to probe those limits under controlled conditions than to be blindsided later, I reasoned. While Gabriel succumbed to the allure of slumber on the room''s other end, I, too, shut my eyes. But unlike him, sleep wasn''t on my agenda. Far from it. The mechanics of Neon Dragons had included an intriguing quirk: The player character never actually required sleep. Sure, the Rest Function was an available option to simulate the natural rhythm of a day, but it was entirely optional rather than mandatory. If my newly bestowed abilities mirrored those of the Neon Dragons'' protagonist, I had reason to believe that I might also function without sleep. Although I would have loved the option to pull all-nighters after I had gotten my hands on a Crown or a [Programming] guide software¡ªperfect resources for grinding Skills while defying the call of sleep¡ªI wasn''t bereft of tasks to fill the twilight hours either. There was one Skill, in particular, that had languished on my radar since Day One, a Skill I had once decried others for overlooking. The irony was definitely not lost on me. The Skill in question? [Meditation], naturally. My strategy was unadorned in its simplicity: Instead of invoking the Rest Function to skip right to dawn, I instead wanted to intensely cultivate my [Meditation] Skill over the span of the next eight uninterrupted hours. Come morning, I would pick up the rhythms of my day, rinse, and repeat the nocturnal grind. This cycle would persist either until sleep finally overwhelmed me or until I reached the end of an arbitrarily chosen four-day period. By the conclusion of this gruelling regimen, I would definitely know whether sleep, for this strange, System-augmented existence of mine, was a luxury rather than a necessity. With a bit of fortune, the hours I intended to pour into grinding my [Meditation] Skill might even yield enough Attribute experience for me to inch closer to one of my much coveted Attribute level-ups. After all, [Meditation] was no normal Skill, as all of my other Skills currently were; it could be used to grind experience to incrementally enhance my Ego and Intuition Attributes, albeit at a snail''s pace. These were Attributes I knew I absolutely could not afford to overlook in my overall development. And yes, you heard that right, hybrid-type Skills did indeed exist in the world of Neon Dragons. Such hybrid Skills were governed by not one, but two separate Attributes, presenting a double-edged sword of opportunity and challenge. While they made it considerably more difficult to focus on boosting a single Attribute, they offered a bypass to otherwise pesky bottlenecks in my Skill progression. In essence, the ceiling for a hybrid Skill''s level was determined by whichever of the two governing Attributes was stronger. Ups and downs, as one might say. So, with that game plan in mind and the hopes that I might get an upgrade for my Attributes along the way, I breathed in slowly and steadily, emptying my mind to welcome the long hours of continuous [Meditation] grinding for the night¡­
[¡ª Attribute Information: Intuition 1 ¡ª 200 / 1,000 XP ¡ª] [The measure of a person¡¯s instincts and intangible knowledge. Provides intangible information about the world, such as feelings of danger, potential opportunities that might have otherwise gone unseen and bolsters a person''s ability to see through other''s deceptions. Couples with the Reflex Attribute to provide enhanced reaction speed as well.] Chapter 11 - Success & SPG-01 The following days and nights went by in a flash, as I focused my efforts on single-minded grinding. The nights were spent with a copious amount of [Meditation] grinding, while my days were spent continuing my [Juggling] journey¡ªat least for the first day or two. I ended up hitting a bit of a wall just as my Reflex and [Juggling] hit level three. While I now had a Perk point to spend, I hadn¡¯t quite decided yet which one from the [Juggling] tree I wanted. Back to the wall, however: My current exercises were not giving me a good return on my investment any longer. Even when I added a seventh sock-ball to the lineup, despite the notable increase in difficulty, my experience rate went down to barely 100xp an hour. Which, considering that Level 3 to Level 4 required a whopping 3000xp, was simply not enough to get me anywhere at a decent pace. I had briefly considered starting to juggle my new combat knife with a couple of kitchen knives, but quickly threw that idea out, as the knowledge imparted by my [Juggling] Skill told me immediately all I needed to know: I had more of a chance to seriously injure or kill myself, than successfully complete sets. So, by mid-afternoon of the second day of my self-imposed Skill-grinding experiment, I found myself hitting a ceiling with both my [Juggling] Skill and Reflex Attribute. The stagnation was frustrating, but fortuitously, I had other Skills that desperately required my attention¡ªprimarily my [Knives] and [Throwing] Skills. The original plan had been straightforward: Just hurl my combat knife through the air to simultaneously level up both Skills. But then reality reared its head. Our cramped apartment didn''t exactly come with a built-in knife-throwing range. Tossing a combat knife at the apartment''s rockcrete walls presented far more risk than reward¡ªit was more likely to either damage the blade or create unsightly holes in the wall than to provide any meaningful experience for either of my Skills. At that moment, I couldn''t help but mentally curse the genre-specific trope of cyberpunk worlds that relegated everyone, except for the power elite, to financial hardship. The reason? I had launched a meticulous search throughout the entire apartment¡ªexcept, of course, for Valeria''s off-limits office¡ªin hopes of finding a suitable makeshift target. Maybe a sturdy plank of wood or a dense foam board, anything really. But the search yielded absolutely zilch, nada, nothing. Our home was bereft of any such hidden resources; it was exactly as it appeared at face value¡ªno buried treasures, no neglected "Oh, I forgot we had that stored somewhere" items. It was just the worn-out couch, the aged TV set, a basic kitchen furnished with four nondescript chairs and a dining table, an outdated radio, and the inexplicable surplus of Sera''s socks that seemed to multiply by the day¡ªlike goblins in every fantasy story ever conceived. Such were the limited elements that made up my world at the time, a world made even smaller by the constraints imposed by my wheelchair-bound existence¡ªthat particular aspect would end soon, however, if I had anything to say about it. Faced with this conundrum, I decided to change my approach, opting to train each Skill¡ª[Knives] and [Throwing]¡ªin isolation. For the [Throwing] Skill, the solution was rather straightforward. I already possessed the ideal ammunition after all, a fact Gabriel would begrudgingly attest to¡ªmy seemingly ever-increasing arsenal of sock-balls. An added advantage of using sock-balls as opposed to something more substantial was that they posed no risk of property damage. This quickly led me to a little epiphany, after just a few sets of throwing my sock-balls against the wall: Merely throwing objects willy-nilly didn''t yield the same gains as aiming at a designated target. So, I improvised, fashioning a makeshift bullseye by taping my pillow to the living room wall. It wasn''t the epitome of sophistication, but it served the purpose. The real snag in this grind-a-thon was the constant interruption to retrieve my thrown sock-balls, however. The process became exceedingly tedious after the first dozen or so rounds. I had pondered various solutions, like tethering the socks with some kind of string to easily reel them back, but alas, we were devoid of any such resources like rope or sturdy thread in the apartment. I tackled this snag head-on after the second day of my Skill-grinding quest. Seeing that Gabriel was seemingly mostly recovered from his emotional outburst the days before, I asked him to pick up some thin but strong rope or string on his way back from work. True to form, he returned with a spool of synth-thread that very evening¡ªbless this man. Tying this thread around my sock-ball projectiles transformed the entire experience. Being able to retract the sock-balls with a simple tug on the synth-thread was a game-changer, not just improving the pacing but also enhancing the overall enjoyment of my otherwise monotonous grind. Sandwiched between those mind-numbing [Throwing] drills, I managed to squeeze in practice sessions to hone my [Knives] Skill. This endeavour was comparatively straightforward. All it required was essentially shadow-boxing while wielding my combat knife. Even at Level 1, the Skill had bestowed upon me basic routines to follow, along with the proper muscle memory needed to execute them competently. It felt like a bona-fide cheat code for real-life, but who was I to gripe about that? However, the Skill wasn''t without its challenges. Knifework isn''t just about the blade; it''s about the synergy of your body''s momentum with every stab and slash. And that''s where, ultimately, my grind hit a myriad of stumbling blocks. Due to my limited upper-body strength¡ªthanks to my abysmal Body Attribute¡ªmy movements couldn''t fully align with what the Skill''s knowledge was instructing me to do. I was effectively handicapped, slowing down my progress and making the whole endeavour more cumbersome than it should have been. I often caught myself mentally shouting, "Hey, [Knives], cut me some slack! I can''t stand yet, okay?!" But despite these hiccups, I pressed on, reminding myself this was but a temporary setback. In a way, I had to tip my hat to my past lifestyle for conditioning me to embrace the monotonous grind rather than dread it. While most people might have found what I was doing insufferably tedious, I was perfectly at home with it. Trust me, laboriously grinding a couple of days on [Throwing] and [Knives] was child''s play compared to, say, the eternal quest for a Rune Crossbow by bare-handing Lucky Implings. As the third day of my experimental grinding marathon wound down, I felt that Gabriel was back to his usual self¡ªhis emotional turbulence seeming to have abated. We were sprawled on the couch, absorbed in some of the more bizarre cyberpunk TV shows the networks had to offer. We were also engaged in idle chatter, which, let me tell you, felt like the epitome of comfort. It reminded me how gratifying it was to simply unwind with someone close by¡ªsomething I haven¡¯t had in my old life in a long, long time. Seizing a pause in our conversation, I took the plunge. "Hey Gabe, do you have any idea how much a basic programming guide software costs? Or even better, how about a Crown¡ªthe most rudimentary one you can find?" His eyes darted to me, widening in astonishment. "Whoa, hold on. Where''s this coming from? Planning on becoming a runner, sis?" I''d anticipated a response along these lines, so I had my answer ready. "I''ve been so incredibly bored lately, that between my exercise recoveries, I found myself watching some TV shows on netrunners. And, well..." Here, I lowered my eyes, feigning a blush of embarrassment, "they seemed kinda cool?" Vulnerability, real or pretended, makes for a compelling story, right? An electric silence buzzed between us, only to be shattered by Gabriel''s hearty laughter, resonating against the spartan, rockcrete walls of our apartment. "Oh man, that''s hilarious, sis," he chortled, as I mustered my most wounded ''How could you laugh at my exposed soul like this?'' expression. It took him a minute to regain his composure. "Look, I''ll gladly get you what you need to fend off the boredom, but you''ve got to understand that I can''t just splurge my hard-earned creds on every whim of yours, okay?" "Absolutely, Gabe! I''ll even pay you back, I promise," I assured him with the zeal of an overly keen younger sister. He let out an extended sigh before shifting into a more sombre tone. "Here''s the thing: You''ve never shown the slightest interest in this before. Quite the opposite, actually. Remember that tutor Mom hired for you to learn programming basics? You bailed after one session, declaring, and I quote: ''Programming is for absolute losers.'' ¡°This stuff isn''t exactly a bargain, Sera. If you''re making a genuine commitment to actually use it, then I''ll consider spending a good chunk of my savings on getting you one. But I need that assurance from you, got it?" Inwardly, I cursed the original Sera for her stubbornness and narrow-minded opinions. Who, in their right mind, would snub a chance at a [Programming] tutor in a cyberpunk world?! What the hell, old-Sera?! That prior refusal to even entertain the notion of programming now made my current endeavour all the more difficult to sell to Gabriel. It was truly fascinating how my past self could serve as a roadblock for the person I was trying to become now. Shaking off my annoyance, I decided to go for the gold. "Alright, listen," I began, my eyes locking onto his with gravity. "I swear on every star in the night sky and every microchip in this apartment, that if you invest in this for me, I will become nothing short of a programming savant or a runner extraordinaire. I vow to¡ª" He held up his hand, stopping my increasingly solemn and overwrought pledge. "Woah, slow down there, sis. You''re turning this into a life oath. Let''s not get too ahead of ourselves. I''ll see what I can do, but keep in mind I probably can''t afford both a programming guide and a Crown. So, which one would you prefer, between the two?" Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. I paused, mulling it over. [Quick-Hacks] would give me a way to earn some quick cash once I was mobile, but the utility would be limited without substantial investment in good Verbs, Adjectives, and Nouns. [Programming], on the other hand, would lay the groundwork for writing my own Quick-Hack subroutines once I became proficient, but be unlikely to provide any sort of short-term gains. If I had to choose one, the latter option was the practical starting point, no question about it. "I''ll go for the programming guide," I declared confidently. Gabriel''s eyes widened, registering visible surprise, before a tender shake of his head followed. "You really are so very different¡­ I had expected you to go for the Crown, at which point I would have fought you on it, ¡®cause that¡¯s the ¡®cooler¡¯ option. But you¡¯re really serious about this, huh¡­? I''ll go look for one tomorrow, Sis. Leave it to me." His words sent a subtle, but real, pang of emotional discomfort through me. I was, ultimately, deceiving him after all. At least to a degree. It was a deception born not of malice but of necessity. How could I possibly explain what had happened to the sister he once knew? I didn''t even fully know myself! I wished more than anything that this subterfuge wasn''t necessary, but the reality was complex, and some truths were better left unsaid¡ªfor now, at least¡­
The following day, as Gabriel sauntered back into our barely furnished apartment, he triumphantly presented a programming guide encased in a sleek carbon-fibre box. The air around it practically hummed with cutting-edge allure. ¡®Ah, praise the almighty circuit boards in the sky!¡¯ I mused internally. My gratitude for Sera''s¡ªno, my¡ªbig brother swelled like an overloaded server. ¡®May some benevolent cyber-deity rain down an avalanche of good karma on this man.¡¯ When I took the guide from him, the weight of the carbon-fibre case struck me as a metaphorical stand-in for its actual cost. It felt heavy, brimming with untapped potential and a palpable financial burden. My throat tightened, as if I''d swallowed a lump of code. "Hey Gabe, how much did this set you back? And don''t think of fudging the numbers; I¡¯ll know!" His eyes locked onto mine. But armed with my upgraded Ego Attribute, I stood my ground easily. Eventually, he conceded with a sigh, "It was 570 creds, Sis. Burned through about 90% of my reserves, so you better make this worthwhile, you hear me?" My eyes dilated in sheer disbelief. For folks scrabbling towards the bottom of the financial food chain like us, 570 credits was no chump change; it was a downright exorbitant sum. My thoughts ricocheted like frenetic data packets, hopping from how he managed to afford such a thing, to where he''d procured it and whether he had gotten scammed, to finally settling on the ghastly realisation that he likely liquidated nearly all his life''s savings for this. The magnitude of his sacrifice was almost beyond my understanding. It struck me as something not just commendable, but transcendent¡ªa love quantified in credits and yet priceless. And the object of such devotion was me, a baffling reality that pushed my emotional circuits close to overheating. "I promise, Gabe," I choked out, my eyes stinging with grateful tears that I fought to keep at bay. My upgraded Ego came in clutch, helping me maintain a veneer of composure that the old me from just a couple days ago would have utterly failed at. "You won''t regret this. Thank you, truly. From every fibre of my being¡ªthank you. I¡¯ll repay you for everything you¡¯ve done for me so far!" The words were simple but laden with an emotional payload that nearly maxed out my emotional capacity¡ªI had never really been someone that dealt well with emotions, at least when it came to my own or those directed at me. All the while, a mix of gratitude and guilt thrummed in the background processes of my mind, but for that moment, all I could focus on was the profound thanks I felt.
Ultimately however, my experiment came to a close at the end of the same day. Needless to say, it was a resounding success¡ªI did, in fact, not need any sleep with this body of mine. I had known that to be the case by the second day already, but had wanted to make sure it was definitely the case, so I had continued for the full 4-day duration I had arbitrarily set at the start. My body and mind still got exhausted, of course, from exercising or even meditating for long stretches at a time, but I never felt the urge to actually sleep. I never felt tired, as if the perpetual, severe insomnia of my past life had followed me here, albeit without any of the negatives associated with it. It was a strange feeling, to say the least, to simply not need sleep at all, but I couldn¡¯t deny that it was invaluable. Conjuring up the G.E.M.A Profile window in my cerebral interface only further deepened that thought, as it invariably brought a smile to my face.
[<-- Attributes -->] Body 0: 600 / 700xp Reflex 3: 2100 / 3000xp Intellect 1: 0 / 1000xp Intuition 3: 700 / 3000xp Edge 1: 0 / 1000xp Tech 1: 0 / 1000xp Ego 3: 1100 / 3000xp [<-- Traits -->] [Blademaster] [Polyglot] [<-- Skills -->] [Meditation] 3 - 3000 / 3000xp ¡ª 1 Unspent Perk Point Available. [First-Aid] 0 - 100 / 700xp [Juggling] 3 - 400 / 3000xp ¡ª 1 Unspent Perk Point Available. [Blades] 1 - 0 / 1000xp [Throwing] 2 - 1700 / 2000xp [Knives] 2 - 1200 / 2000xp [<-- Perks -->] None [<-- Abilities -->] Blademaster¡¯s Throw Blademaster¡¯s Strike
During the gruelling nightly sessions, I had managed to max out my [Meditation] skill, a feat that left me buzzing with a sense of fulfilment. Two shiny new Perks beckoned for selection, my Attributes had triple-levelled, and my other Skills had sprinted ahead from their previous lethargic pace. ''Sera, you absolute genius, look at all those sweet, sweet gains!'' I mentally patted myself on the back, unable to contain my euphoria. The temptation to abort the monotonous grind had reared its head more times than I cared to admit. Yet each time, I clenched my teeth and plowed through the resistance, spurred on by a near-obsessive determination. And now, I was basking in the, very deserved, rich dividends of that perseverance! While I had peeked at the [Meditation] Perk tree almost instantaneously upon hitting Level 1, a final decision on which Perk to lock in still eluded me¡ªmuch like my [Juggling] Perk. The issue wasn''t a lack of good options; it was an excess thereof. ''Damn you, choice paralysis! If only I could have them all,'' I mused, lost in the plethora of tantalising possibilities. That night, though, my attention was monopolised by a new Skill, one that beckoned with the allure of untapped potential: [Programming]. I resolved to unlock and drill into this Skill before making any calls on my existing Perks options. To me, it felt like [Programming] was going to be a cornerstone Skill, one I couldn''t afford to simply treat as an afterthought. In a cyberpunk world, programmers were key. Cracking open the carbon-fibre case Gabriel had bestowed upon me felt akin to a child tiptoeing down the stairs on Christmas Eve¡ªeach movement was infused with electric anticipation. Nestled in a custom-cut foam interior lay a data-shard, its crystalline structure fragile to the eye but far more resilient in the reality of Neon Dragons. Trust me, those little shards could weather more than a couple of tumbles without flinching. With my heart pounding in techno-beats of excitement, I carefully extracted the data-shard. It was time to dive into the labyrinthine world of [Programming], and I couldn''t have been more excited. The data-shard emitted a soft, red glow, its edges festooned with LED lights that seemed theatrically unnecessary but absolutely on brand for anything in the cyberpunk genre. To me, it looked like a talisman imbued with esoteric code-magic. Even though I knew these shards were designed to be able to take at least a bit of a beating, I couldn''t bring myself to handle it with anything less than the utmost reverence. The sheer financial sacrifice Gabriel had made for this tiny, glowing object weighed heavily on my mind, nixing any cavalier attitude I might have adopted. ''More training in Ego needed,'' I reminded myself at the realisation of my mental weakness, marking it down mentally for future sessions. Imprinted on the shard''s surface were characters reading: [SPG-01 00409]. My wiki-diving sessions had taught me the nomenclature¡ªS for Simple, A for Advanced, M for Master, followed by "PG" for Programming Guide, then a serial number indicating its order of manufacture. This was the 409th Simple Programming Guide to roll off the virtual assembly line. Not particularly groundbreaking intel, but seeing it here, something I''d only read about in the detached context of online wikis, sent a shiver snaking down my spine. ''This is going to take some getting used to,'' I pondered, momentarily entranced by the surreal familiarity of it all. Shaking off the strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, I finally plugged the shard into my neck port. The sensation of inserting data directly into one''s nervous system was nothing short of paradoxical. It felt jarringly alien and strange, like a violation of everything that made you human¡ªyet at the same time, felt utterly natural and expected. The moment the data-shard slid into its designated port, a pulsating thrill radiated from the point of contact, traversing neural pathways as it suffused my entire consciousness. Suddenly, it was as if I had been plunged into another dimension¡ªcyberspace materialised before my mental eye. The space didn''t just look digital; it felt it too, like a secondary, parallel reality woven from luminous threads of raw code and liquid data. Within this simulacrum, there were various sections, each with its own distinct design. One quadrant seemed filled with organised, linear shelves, each one a repository of knowledge that I guessed would be part of the guide itself¡ªsyntax, functions, algorithms, and the like. Another section looked like a swirling, chaotic galaxy where random programs floated in abstract space¡ªpre-written subroutines and examples to dissect and study, perhaps. But the centrepiece of this faux reality, a structure that seemed to glow with a celestial light, was undoubtedly the development environment. I''d been craving to access this Integrated Development Environment (IDE) since Gabriel had agreed to get me the data-shard, and for good reason. Beyond its function as an educational platform, the IDE was a playground for coders. It was a tool of liberation. It meant that I didn''t need to tether myself to a physical laptop or worry about affording some external software to run some simple test scripts. I could code here, within the confines of my mind, in real-time. True, it wouldn''t be as polished or detailed as code crafted through traditional means, but it was a stepping stone, a place to experiment and fail without consequence¡ªand one that didn¡¯t cost me a literal arm and a leg to acquire. The IDE in the SPG-01 shard was no rudimentary setup. It was designed to mimic an architect''s holographic drafting table, with floating windows displaying functions, classes, and variables. A sidebar buzzed with stacks of virtual textbooks for instant reference, while another screen looked like it was ready to display run-time errors and log files. I noticed a virtual keyboard below, pulsing softly, awaiting my mental body¡¯s input to commence coding. As awe-inspiring as this all was, it also unleashed a pang of guilt deep within me. Gabriel had essentially exhausted his savings for this, believing he was investing in his sister''s future. He didn''t know, couldn''t know, that the person standing here, immersed in this neon dreamscape of endless digital possibilities, was not the sister he grew up with. The dissonance stung, but I shelved those emotions for later scrutiny. Right now, there was code to write, and a whole new world to fathom. And fathom it I would. After all, Gabriel had gambled on me, and that was a bet I refused to let him lose¡­ Chapter 12 - Hello World Disconnecting from the aerial vantage point that I had started out with¡ªa simple mental flick of a lever was all that it took¡ªand seamlessly integrating into my avatar''s digital skin, I found myself positioned at a considerable distance from the towering marvel that was the IDE. The shard''s design was evidently crafted to steer users toward its introductory guide sessions before funnelling them toward the grand monolith at the cyberspace¡¯s core. A calculated path of enlightenment, so to speak. But my curiosity couldn''t be tamed that easily. I needed to make a beeline for the IDE before even contemplating the guide sessions. For the sake of my own peace of mind, I had to verify whether this unorthodox interface would serve as a helpful tool or become a cumbersome hurdle in my digital odyssey. I wanted to know if it would work as my imagination dictated or if I''d have to adjust my plans going forward, should it prove to be more of an obstruction than the asset I hoped it would be. In the standard gameplay of Neon Dragons, the IDE was just another application you¡¯d use on your computer, complete with a physical keyboard and all the familiar trappings. But for me, now fully integrated into this digital universe, the experience promised to be radically different. Instead of manually typing out each line of code, I''d essentially be having to will my thoughts into textual form¡ªa mental gymnastics routine I suspected would demand a period of rigorous adjustment. As I approached the neon-lit coliseum of a dome at the virtual heart of the shard''s cyberspace, awe and a touch of nervous excitement overwhelmed me. Cyberspace and netrunners had been a staple of the cyberpunk genre for decades, but actually stepping foot¡ªwell, mental foot¡ªinside this fantastical realm was nothing short of surreal. It was a dichotomy of the real and the imaginary, the tangible and the ethereal. It felt as if I were walking inside a lucid dream encoded in binary. The scale of the digital world inside the shard was utterly jaw-dropping. The dome, the cathedral of my soon-to-be digital endeavours, was gargantuan¡ªits footprint alone could dwarf several football fields side by side. Yet despite its size, the landscape accommodated physics that would make the real world jealous. My virtual self glided across the datastream-paved ground below with a velocity that could give high-performance sports cars a run for their money. Initially, I tried to correlate this experience with real-world metrics, but I swiftly recognized the futility in that. Here, in this byte-sized cosmos, traditional notions of time and space were more loose guidelines than ironclad rules. As I neared the radiant dome, every fibre of my being¡ªevery byte of my code?¡ªtingled with the thrill of imminent exploration. Crossing the threshold into the monumental dome through its garish, neon-hued gate¡ªan ostentatious slab of colours that practically bellowed "cyberpunk" despite lacking vocal cords¡ªI found myself instantaneously teleported to the dome''s epicentre. Here, the walls were transformed into a 360-degree panorama of customizable digital windows. The sheer scale of informational possibilities that could flood these screens was nothing short of mind-boggling¡ªpotentially even paralysing to a novice like myself if not approached judiciously. To my relief, the IDE wasn''t cluttered with random default settings that could''ve triggered sensory overload. Instead, it awaited my customization, offering a blank slate devoid of chaos. Sure, setting everything up to my preferences would be a severely time-consuming endeavour, but at least I wasn''t thrown into a digital cacophony the moment I set foot within this virtual sanctum. "Okay, let''s see here. Just a simple program to test out the interface," I muttered to myself. Navigating the IDE''s offerings was akin to operating an elaborate spaceship cockpit¡ªbuttons, levers, dials, and touch-screens presented themselves within the faux reality of the cyberspace, each begging for my avatar¡¯s tactile interaction. Almost immediately, I was struck by a revelation. I had very likely underestimated the power of even this ''simple'' IDE packed within the SPG-01 shard. Contrary to wiki descriptions that labelled it a "poor imitation of the real thing," what stood before me was already dizzyingly complex. Armed with this newfound understanding, I charted my next steps. ''I''ll need to invest a considerable amount of time fiddling with all these settings before I plunge deeper. This IDE could be far more valuable than I initially gave it credit for. Hell, it might even save me a substantial pile of creds if I can forgo splurging on a physical laptop and its corresponding external IDE for the foreseeable future¡­'' And so, I embarked on a painstaking exploration, fine-tuning the intricate settings and evaluating the myriad potential applications this surprisingly robust IDE offered.
I was genuinely relieved that the shard featured a built-in timekeeping function. Otherwise, I would have been completely oblivious to the passage of time as I delved obsessively into the intricate maze of the IDE''s customizable options and settings. By the time I had finally orchestrated everything to my satisfaction, five hours had evaporated. Yet, surveying the now-personalised digital screens filled with precisely the e-books, documentation, and references I''d need to start, I felt a profound sense of accomplishment. As an added boon, the activity netted me an unexpected 500xp towards my Intellect Attribute¡ªa delightful bonus for a task I was obligated to undertake in any case. In Neon Dragons, the lingua franca of programming was an amalgamated high-level language imaginatively dubbed "Cyber." A cocktail of various real-world programming languages that I remembered from my past life, Cyber also incorporated its own proprietary terminology to account for the game world''s unique mechanics. The language was predominantly English-based but sprinkled liberally with terms and syntax from languages that had originated from countries across the globe¡ªa testament to the game''s all-star development team from all across the world, who had laboured for nearly a decade to get this masterpiece of a game finished. As I pored over the documentation, refreshing my understanding of programming in this new reality¡ªa subject I had previously only skimmed through during my wiki exploration, courtesy of the fact that I couldn¡¯t exactly try my hands at programming in the game itself¡ªI found my [Polyglot] Trait unexpectedly advantageous. While I knew I was essentially starting from scratch, with a lengthy learning curve ahead of me, the Trait helped me intuitively grasp the non-English vocabulary woven into Cyber''s fabric. Of course, this didn''t alleviate the need to master the correct syntax, debug errors, or delve into the intricacies of programming logic. Nevertheless, simply having a head start in comprehending the specialised terminology provided an unanticipated yet significant edge, making me all the more grateful for my choice in picking the [Polyglot] Trait previously. After finally completing my preparations, I willed my avatar to commence typing on the virtual keyboard that hovered in the IDE''s immersive dome. The instant I did, the keyboard anchored itself securely in front of my avatar, remaining steadfast even as I manoeuvred through the voluminous 3D expanse. At first, the sensation was peculiar, but I quickly realised the brilliance of the design: I could fluidly navigate to various sectors of my IDE setup to cross-reference information while maintaining uninterrupted access to the keyboard. It didn''t take long for me to understand the enormity of the challenge that lay ahead, however. My previous life had not prepared me for programming in Cyber; my knowledge was limited to a smattering of wiki pages focused on Quick-Hacks and subroutines that appealed to my favourite content creators. The task of coding in this digital landscape was staggeringly complex. In addition to mastering the standard syntax, logic, and language-specific quirks, there was an entirely new layer to consider: The Netscape. This daunting fourth layer determined the existential nature of a program within the greater Cyberspace, specifying whether it would manifest as a Daemon, a Quick-Hack, a subroutine, or something else entirely. Although there were other elements to consider, grasping the nuances of the Netscape layer was the most overwhelming part. Even for my rudimentary first program¡ªa mere display of words in the IDE''s 3D dome¡ªI had to expend hours poring over Netscape documentation to get the desired behaviour. Intriguingly, this quest for knowledge felt almost like a game to me. There was a clear objective, a path to reach it, and the onus was on me to discover the optimal combination¡ªor build¡ªto make it function. After a taxing but fulfilling seven-hour total stint within the shard, I managed to compile and execute my very first program written fully in Cyber. Before me materialised a vast, free-floating text, proudly proclaiming "Hello World" in a vivid shade of cyan that seemed almost luminescent in the cybernetic atmosphere. And yes, it was rendered in Comic Sans¡ªbelieve it or not, Neon Dragons indeed had Comic Sans. This was likely a residual feature from the game''s compatibility with ordinary computers, giving it access to all the pre-installed fonts, but maybe the devs had somehow inteded for it to be a real thing, who knows. But this trivial detail stirred some rather intriguing questions about the world I now called home: How did Comic Sans come to be part of this universe''s lore? If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Neon Dragons wasn''t just a game anymore; it was an expansive world with its own intricate history, evolutionary patterns, and cultural norms. Did the existence of Comic Sans in this realm imply that the font was some kind of universal constant in any world where human-like evolution had taken place? It was a quirky, fascinating but deeply troubling thought that I quickly tried to bury in the depths of my subconscious. I did not want to go down that rabbit hole of existentialism today. Seeing the program function before me felt like a seminal moment, the first footfall on my journey towards mastering this newfound aspect of Neon Dragons. The capability to craft my own programs, subroutines, and Quick-Hacks was bound to be a total game-changer in this world. As if on cue, a symphony of chimes reverberated in my consciousness, heralding the well-earned gains that were now mine to claim.
[System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: [Programming] Skill unlocked. [System]: 300xp gained for [Programming] Skill.
''Only 300xp for all that effort?'' I couldn''t help but groan internally, a flicker of disappointment flashing through my mind. But almost as quickly, I realised that the situation wasn''t as dire as it initially seemed. Reaching Level 1 from Level 0 only required a total of 700xp, which meant I had already gotten nearly halfway to my first substantial knowledge boost¡ªa boost that would no doubt ramp up my coding proficiency tenfold. Furthermore, I had spent the lion''s share of this session painstakingly setting up the IDE and wrapping my brain around the enigmatic Netscape layer¡ªtasks I wouldn''t have to repeat in future sessions. Starting tomorrow night, I could dive straight into coding, thereby accelerating my experience gains in a way that would make tonight''s labours look trivial in comparison. In retrospect, I was immensely satisfied with my initial journey into the realm of [Programming]. The prospect of further delving into this digital world filled me with excitement. But for now, I had more immediate skills to continue to grind¡ªnamely [Throwing] and [Knives]. Exiting the cybernetic environment of the shard proved to be as straightforward as willing my avatar to leave. The sensation jolted my consciousness abruptly back into my physical form¡ªa disorienting experience, but one that thankfully dissipated swiftly. "That was so freaking cool," I found myself muttering under my breath, still slightly awestruck by the realisation that I was truly existing in a world awash with cyberpunk aesthetics and technological marvels. To remove the shard from my neck-port, all it took was a gentle press¡ªakin to ejecting a micro SD card in the world I once knew. Except, this device authenticated my biometrics in a nanosecond, ensuring it was actually me attempting the removal before granting permission. Safely securing it back in its sleek, carbon-fibre case, I stashed the whole thing underneath my pillow. It was hardly the Fort Knox of hiding spots, but it would hopefully serve to deter any would-be thieves. After all, I doubted that many burglars in this world made a habit of rifling through pillows.
Glancing at the time displayed on my cerebral interface, I noticed I was roughly 40 minutes ahead of both Gabriel''s and my regular wake-up schedule. ''Today¡¯s the day. I¡¯ll max out [Throwing] and [Knives], so tomorrow I can finally upgrade my Body to Level 1. No more wheelchair for me,'' I thought with palpable excitement. ''Exploring Neo Avalis might still be off the table for a bit, but I¡¯ll be able to supercharge my grinding sessions. And hey, roaming around this floor of the megabuilding will become a real possibility. Man, I can hardly wait!'' With that enthusiasm fueling me and nothing else to do before Gabriel''s typical knock on the metal partition that divided our living quarters¡ªhis way of officially kick-starting my day¡ªI decided to engage in a few moments of [Meditation]. My Skill was already maxed for the time being, but there was still room for growth in the governing Attributes. Just as I was about to snap out of my meditative state, mere minutes before I expected Gabriel''s knock, I was pleasantly surprised by an unexpected XP boost for both the Ego and Intuition Attributes that influenced my [Meditation] skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
The day itself unfolded like most of my prior ones since I had started my sleep-based experiment, filled with relentless [Throwing] of sock balls¡ªwhich seemed to multiply like rabbits, as I kept discovering more of them every time I went to retrieve the misfired ones¡ªand intense shadow fighting to improve my [Knives] Skill, which left my muscles aching as if they were staging a revolt. Approximately two hours before Gabriel was due to return, I achieved my primary objective for the day: Maxing out both [Throwing] and [Knives], at least for the time being! I also scored another 500xp for my Reflex Attribute, edging me closer to Level 4 at 2600 / 3000xp. Hitting that next level would be downright monumental¡ªit would allow me to further hone all three of my top Skills: [Juggling], [Throwing], and [Knives]. Furthermore, it would finally put me above the general baseline for an Attribute for once. While I already stood head and shoulders above the average person in Neo Avalis when it came to these specialised Skills, my Reflex Attribute, which also governed speed, accuracy, and the nimbleness of my hands and muscles, was still hovering around the norm. But not for long. I had a slate of thrilling milestones looming on the horizon! One such milestone I¡¯d already attained: Reaching Level 3 in my newest Skills, which meant more Perk choices were now at my disposal. Later that night, after levelling up the Skill once and perusing the [Programming] Perks, I¡¯d finally be in a position to chart a more concrete course for myself. I could select a whopping four Perks to enhance my abilities! To say I was excited would be a colossal understatement.
The atmosphere that evening shared much in common with previous nights; Gabriel and I were comfortably ensconced on our worn-in couch, engrossed in the hallucinogenic visuals and mind-bending plotlines of cyberpunk television. But this night deviated from the script in a significant way that caught both me and Gabe completely off guard: Oliver, our father, finally made his return home. Just an hour shy of our customary bedtime, the apartment door slid open with a mechanical whir, and a visibly drained Oliver made his laborious entrance. The weight of the world seemed to hang heavy on his shoulders. "Dad?! You''re back!" Gabriel practically leapt from the couch, his voice tinged with relief and surprise as he rushed to greet our wayward father. "Gabriel. Good to see both you and your sister hale and hearty. I apologise for my extended absence; work has been... challenging, to say the least," our normally exuberant father responded. His words, although carefully chosen, were tinged with an unmistakable fatigue that hung in the air long after he''d spoken. Gabriel''s face contorted with worry, a sentiment I found myself sharing. The circumstances at Oliver¡¯s workplace must have been extraordinarily severe to have kept him away for nearly a full week. Something substantial had transpired, enough to tether him to his responsibilities and away from home. Manoeuvring my wheelchair closer to the unfolding family reunion, I put on what I hoped was my most empathetic "concerned daughter" expression. "What exactly happened? I ventured cautiously, "If you''re up for it, we''re all ears. Sometimes venting can help, you know?" I steered clear of addressing him by any name, caught in a mental tug-of-war. Using the term "dad" still felt premature for me, yet calling him Oliver might strike the wrong chord. I couldn''t shake the memory of the initial heartbreak that had clouded his features when we first met at the hospital, and I had no desire to rekindle that pain, especially not when I was trying to extract some information about the going-ons of the outside world from him. Oliver sighed deeply, as if mustering the strength to delve into the labyrinthine chaos that had consumed his work week. "Well," he began, looking as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, "I oversee the transport lanes at the company, as you know. Lately, we''ve been dealing with an inexplicable series of glitches in our systems¡ªtrucks veering off-course, deliveries and their respective manifests missing, data breaches, you name it. We thought it was an isolated issue at first, but now..." he paused, his eyes narrowing as if debating how much to disclose. "It''s beginning to look a lot like sabotage. Whoever is doing this is not only technically sophisticated but also seems to have inside knowledge of our operations. As the foreman at this location, it¡¯s my responsibility to keep these things straight, so I¡¯ve been trying to play catch-up with the problems¡ªtrying to figure out what is going on¡ªbut to no avail. I¡¯m still completely in the dark, but at least the incidents have stopped, for now." Gabriel''s eyes widened perceptibly as he absorbed the weight of Oliver''s words. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ratchet up another notch. "Sabotage? Insider knowledge? Data breaches?! Dad, that''s... that''s some serious stuff. Are you sure you''re safe?" The concern in his voice was unmistakable; it transcended the usual banter and teenage angst to reach a level of genuine worry. "Have you reported this to the authorities? What are they doing about it?" Oliver grimaced, a mix of frustration and regret clouding his face. "The authorities are involved, but the whole situation is delicate. You know how these corporate intricacies work; even a whisper of this getting out to the public could wreak havoc on the company''s reputation. But rest assured, it''s being looked into by the right people. I hope." Gabriel shook his head, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around the gravity of the situation. "Wow, dad, that''s... intense. Be careful, okay? Whoever''s doing this is clearly not messing around." Oliver nodded, appreciating his son''s concern but also visibly carrying the burden of responsibilities he couldn''t fully share. "Thank you, Gabriel. I''ll do my best, and that''s a promise." My mind was awash with speculations, tracing the lines of connection through the murk of what I knew and what I''d heard. ''Hold on a minute,'' I thought, ''Wasn''t there an event in Neo Avalis that kicked off about six years prior to the game''s main quest line? Something to do with city-wide massive data breaches¡­? It was a huge problem for myriad corporations, that got hurt massively through different levels of sabotages and tons of technical issues. If memory serves, it was a sort of watershed moment that led to the rise of a fledgling manufacturing firm called OriginTech. They were hell-bent on innovating military tech using blueprints stolen from one of the juggernaut corporations within Neo Avalis itself, Rockefeller Inc. In the game world, this had all been relegated to the annals of "ancient history," so the details were frustratingly scant. But could what Oliver is going through be a precursor to this? Maybe it''s the beginning of that exact same chain of events, even...'' As my mind whirred with a cascade of thoughts, the synchronicities felt too conspicuous to dismiss as mere chance. To the uninformed observer, it might seem like nothing more than a tangle of corporate politics and operational snafus. Yet for me, armed with the fragments of knowledge gleaned from my deep dives into the game''s lore and wiki, the time frame and sheer gravity of Oliver''s situation seemed to align uncannily with past events I was aware of regarding OriginTech. It was as if I were a detective in a noir film, poring over a complex jigsaw puzzle under a dim light. Many pieces were elusive or altogether missing, and the picture remained frustratingly incomplete. Yet the potential ramifications pulsed through my thoughts, simultaneously unsettling and electrifying, like a current running down my spine. Was this the embryonic series of incidents that would pave the way for OriginTech''s meteoric rise as the next corporate behemoth within Neo Avalis in the game''s timeline? Or was I simply reading too much into it, fabricating elaborate connections out of sheer boredom and the confining monotony of my one-apartment life¡­? Chapter 13 - The First Perks As Oliver recounted the troubling circumstances at his workplace, I found myself plummeting down a rabbit hole of fragmented recollections, desperately trying to reconstruct the elusive timeline of the OriginTech incident. It was a monumental task, considering that even the wiki from my previous world had only provided scant few details on the subject. To make matters more complicated, I had never paid much attention to this specific incident in my former life. I''d only perused the wiki page a handful of times, usually to corroborate some minor detail about the incident or company¡¯s origin that popped up in a specific game playthrough or a Let''s Play episode I happened to be watching at the moment. It was akin to attempting to solve a jigsaw puzzle where half the pieces were missing, a few were gnawed on by a dog, and the rest had been marred by splashes of random paint¡ªabsolutely ludicrous, to say the least. After nearly an hour of mentally wrestling with the scant bits and pieces of information I could recall, frustration welled up within me. ''Damn it, old-world Sera! Why didn''t you pay closer attention? This would have been so useful now,'' I internally chastised myself. However, almost as quickly as the thought had manifested, I recognized the absurdity of my self-reproach. ''No, I couldn''t have known this would be relevant. Even if someone had told me I''d end up isekai''d into Neon Dragons, I would have dismissed them as delusional. I''m sorry for the unfair blame, old-world Sera,'' I thought, trying to mentally reconcile with my past self. The strangeness of having a sort of inner dialogue with my previous incarnation struck me, prompting me to swiftly shift my focus elsewhere. Armed with the fragments of information I had managed to cobble together, I understood that the incidents had unfolded over an entire year¡¯s time. During this period, OriginTech''s founders had meticulously gathered the necessary components for their initial prototype of groundbreaking military tech. Upon completion, they sold this prototype to MillField, one of the region''s major military contractors, using the proceeds to fund their hiring blitz and establish their corporate headquarters in Neo Avalis. However, the critical, foundational detail that I had been looking for, still eluded me: Had there been any casualties at the companies from which OriginTech had sourced their materials? In all honesty, I hadn''t cared much about the virtual lives at stake in the game before. Who could''ve foreseen that Sera''s father would be a foreman at one of the companies caught in OriginTech''s unscrupulous web?! The uncertainty surrounding Oliver''s safety gnawed at me more than I would''ve expected, considering I barely knew him. I couldn''t entirely chalk it up to hormonal shifts or some biological predisposition for familial attachment from Sera¡¯s body either; I had genuinely enjoyed my, albeit brief, interactions with Oliver, who came across as an exceptionally loving and attentive father. In a world shaped by the darker themes of the cyberpunk genre, such genuine goodness seemed rare, almost like a precious commodity. This made the concern for his well-being all the more unsettling. Lying in bed, my thoughts swirled in a restless dance. ''I need to escape this apartment''s confines sooner rather than later if I''m serious about protecting Sera¡¯s family and keeping my promises to her. Oliver¡¯s situation is a wild card I hadn''t accounted for. If OriginTech is still meddling at his workplace, then his life could be in serious danger, for all I know. I can''t afford to be powerless; I need more Skills, more Perks, and most importantly, more options. The stronger I am, the better I can protect my family. Only then can I be free to explore my own desires and aspirations within this world...'' The room was dark, the apartment silent, save for the distant hum of the city outside. Gabriel and I had gone to bed only a few hours after Oliver returned, each of us lost in our thoughts about the unfolding drama. Determined, I reached for the SPG-01 shard on my nightstand and carefully inserted it back into the port at the base of my neck. It was time to level up; I had a Skill that desperately needed grinding.
Submerged once again in the virtual expanse of the data-shard''s cyberspace, I zoomed toward the beginner''s guide section with purpose. That day, I was dead-set on exploiting the guide''s instruction on Cyber language, programming, and Quick-Hacks to the fullest¡ªGod knows Gabriel had shelled out a small fortune for this educational tool. My main aim was to glean foundational tips and follow-up resources for my [Programming] Skill while snatching some low-hanging experience points. Even if I wasn''t doing the heavy lifting myself, I was still learning, so that should merit some experience gains, shouldn''t it? As I navigated into the introductory tutorial, I found myself greeted by an all-too-familiar, digitally constructed, face and voice. "Welcome, student. My name is Kill Joy, but you may refer to me as Mr. Joy, Teacher, or Sensei¡ªwhichever you find most comfortable. I will be your guide through the labyrinthine world of Cyber language and Quick-Hacks, and I''m here to answer any questions within the scope of the SPG-01 shard. Please, manifest a seat for your avatar and let''s begin." Ah, yes¡ªKill Joy. A name that could only be the concoction of a designer bent on toying with players. Visually, he was a bizarre hybrid of Gandalf the Grey and some more flamboyant, cyberpunk sibling, with all the neon-accented accessories that came with it¡ªneon glasses, vibrant neon-coloured hair and beard; the whole works. And despite the absurdity of his looks and moniker, which was in-fact his legal birth name, by the way¡ªa fact I verified multiple times in my past life through obsessive wiki deep-dives¡ª there was no escaping him. Kill Joy was ubiquitous for a reason: He was the godfather of Cyber and Quick-Hacks in this universe. He, or mentions of him, kept popping up in various modules, guides, and questlines, each reappearance another reminder of his inescapably ridiculous name. However laughable his name might have been, Kill Joy''s expertise in the realm of Cyber was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Naturally, he hadn''t invented the language, but he had been the revolutionary force that propelled it into mainstream use within the Neon Dragons universe. Moreover, he was the genius behind the term ''Quick-Hacks,'' a concept nonexistent before he re-imagined and came up with a whole new implementation for the 4th layer to permit pre-written subroutines to breach secured, wireless networks across the Cyberspace. His in-game persona had always been exuberantly eccentric, but encountering this digital colossus face-to-face¡ªor avatar-to-avatar¡ªwas a completely different level of bewildering. I found myself temporarily stupefied. "Cat got your tongue, girl?" Kill Joy''s digital visage queried, a look of annoyance painted across his face. Snapped back to reality¡ªor whatever passed for it here¡ªI remembered my purpose. I glanced around and discovered the first obstacle in this lesson, an obstacle Kill Joy had subtly laid out: I didn''t have a seat. ''Right, he mentioned manifesting a chair...'' I won''t lie; I took an embarrassingly long time to decipher what that entailed¡ªwell over an hour, to be precise. When the solution finally struck me, it was almost frustratingly simple. To manifest objects in Cyberspace, you needed permission from the server owner¡ªin this case, Mr. Joy¡ªand then you had to access your cerebral interface through your avatar. Yeah, you heard that right. Opening it through your avatar. As in: Imagining yourself, opening it, but detached from your physical eyes and mind, moved over to your avatar, which, in turn, was the physical representation of yourself within the Cyberspace. It made no fucking sense, when I tried thinking about it in-post, but all that mattered was that I managed to do it. Once that hurdle was cleared, the rest was practically child''s play. You could pick from a menu of object models you had access to; for the chair, Mr. Joy had so graciously provided a model under the ''shared assets'' category. From there, all that remained was to drag the chosen object into the ''physical'' realm of Cyberspace. As I did so, the chair materialised almost instantaneously, its form emerging in a burst of code decals typical of the cyberpunk aesthetic. All that effort was not for naught however, as I was immediately greeted with a surprising variety of chimes from the G.E.M.A. System.
[System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: [Netrunning] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: [Manifestation] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill.
My eyes widened in astonishment as a torrent of notifications flooded my interface, sending a jolt of elation coursing through my chest. ''Yes! There are new Cyberspace-related Skills!'' I exulted internally, my digital fist triumphantly cutting through the digital air. While the [Netrunning] Skill had been a part of the game''s original construct, [Manifestation] certainly had not been. It probably existed in this reality for the same reason my [Juggling] Skill did¡ªit simply made logical sense here, independent of any original coding by the game developers. The potential applications of a Skill named [Manifestation] eluded me, as did the possible Perks it might unlock. Yet, to say I was merely ''excited'' about its future possibilities would be a gargantuan understatement. Just as I was revelling in my new Skill, the gravelly voice of the old man cascaded over my jubilant thoughts like a bucket of icy water. "You don''t have to look so pleased with yourself for finally manifesting a mere chair, girl. Sit down; we have much to cover, so stop wasting my time," Kill Joy admonished, snapping me back to the task at hand. I quickly obeyed, settling into the chair with a sense of renewed urgency. After all, every second counted, although, with my recent Skill acquisitions and experience drops, I couldn''t exactly claim any of this time was wasted, exactly. The moment my avatar touched the seat, Kill Joy launched into an exhaustive, intricate lecture. He wove through the genesis of the Cyber language, delved into his own beginnings and journey to become a programmer, and navigated the complexities and nuances of the field. Finally, he reached the climax of his discourse, expounding on his, at the time, ground- breaking ideas for Quick-Hacks and his revolutionary redesign of the 4th layer of Cyber, which had led to him becoming a known figure across the entire world of Neon Dragons.
Describing the lecture as dull wouldn''t be entirely inaccurate, but it had the saving grace of intermittent System notifications that confirmed my hope: I didn''t have to be the one grinding away at the keyboard to earn experience points, just being engaged in the learning process sufficed! By the time Kill Joy''s monologue finally wrapped up¡ªa staggering five hours later¡ªI was both mentally drained and surreptitiously grateful. Yes, enduring his self-aggrandizing ''Greatest Hits of Cyber'' compilation was an exhausting ordeal, but on the upside, it meant I had completed the first segment of the guide. I looked forward to the subsequent sections, which promised to focus more on the nitty-gritty of programming, netrunning, and Quick-Hacks, rather than meandering through a historical self-portrait of the man himself. If I had to hazard a guess, the ego-driven Kill Joy had likely mandated this introductory section as a prerequisite to any guide concerning Cyber that dared to use his name and likeness. Ultimately however, what truly mattered the most were the notifications that had stacked up!
[System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: Intellect Attribute has reached 2. [System]: 300xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 500xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: [Programming] has reached Level 1.
That¡¯s goddamn right! Somewhere in the midst of Kill Joy''s marathon lecture, both my Intellect Attribute and my [Programming] Skill had surged significantly. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The uptick in my Intellect Attribute was a peculiar phenomenon. It didn''t necessarily make me more "intelligent" per se, but it fine-tuned my cognitive functions, facilitating quicker and more seamless logical connections between disparate thoughts. It was like receiving a software update for my brain¡ªone that enhanced its operational efficiency without making me overtly smarter. Now, the [Programming] Skill¡ªthat was an entirely different beast, a veritable waterfall of information. The moment it hit Level 1, my mind became a torrential downpour of data: Cyber fundamentals, general programming logic, syntax intricacies, the rudiments of Quick-Hack subroutines¡ªthough notably, not specifics on actual Quick-Hacks, which I suspected fell under the separate [Quick-Hack] Skill. It was as if I had been granted instant access to an expansive digital library of all things programming, much of which would undoubtedly be covered and end up being extremely useful in the upcoming guide sections with Mr. Joy. Even an hour after this deluge of insights, my mind was still swirling, trying to assimilate the immense volume of new information. I couldn''t help but think how wise it had been to dedicate my nighttime hours to this [Programming] grind. The last thing I wanted was to interact with someone while my brain was in this frenetic state; there was a real risk I might blurt out something regrettable as my thoughts tried scurrying to coalesce.
After disengaging from the digital labyrinth of Cyberspace, feeling mentally exhausted and utterly unequipped for any further cerebral endeavours, I found myself back in the familiar comfort of my bed. I carefully stowed the data-shard back into its sleek carbon-fibre case and tucked it discreetly under my pillow. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for the impending series of crucial decisions that loomed ahead¡ªnot menacingly, mind you. I was very excited about this next part! First on my agenda was to scrutinise the long-anticipated Perk list for my [Programming] Skill. Even though I was still a few days away from actually being able to select one, understanding my options was going to be indispensable for planning my other Perk choices. There was always the slight possibility that some Perks from different Skills might synergize or overlap in some way. Given that [Programming] was poised to become one of my main pursuits¡ªespecially during the nocturnal hours when engaging in other activities would risk arousing my family''s suspicion¡ªit was imperative that I had a comprehensive grasp of my available Perk choices ahead of time.
[Debugging] [Requirement: Level 3 [Programming]] Figure out exactly where you went wrong! You gain the ability to immediately pinpoint the exact lines or segments of code responsible for issues in any program you''re examining.
[Programming Maestro] [Requirement: Level 3 [Programming]] Never get stumped! You gain the ability to continuously find creative solutions when programming, ensuring you navigate around obstacles with ease and never hit a roadblock while coding.
[Spiritus Machina] [Requirement: Level 3 [Programming]] Be a literal Ghost inside their systems! You gain the ability to code your programs and Quick-Hack subroutines with additional stealth layers, allowing them to remain undetected for far longer than usual.
[RAM Buffer] [Requirement: Level 3 [Programming]] Just download more RAM! You gain the ability to code your programs and Quick-Hack subroutines with advanced compression techniques, making them accessible on Crowns, Netdecks, and Implants with more limited RAM capacity.
[Rudimentary Sentience] [Requirement: Level 3 [Programming]] Not quite Turing Test-ready, but it''s a start! You gain the ability to code your programs and Quick-Hack subroutines with additional, extremely basic AI capabilities. These AI layers can autonomously adapt to a single obstacle that would otherwise impede their normal function.
As I pored over the list of Perks, I had to exert considerable willpower to prevent myself from drooling in sheer amazement. ''Wow, these are fucking incredible... I want half of them right now and the other half later,'' I thought to myself, my mind buzzing with the tantalising potential each Perk offered. Regrettably, at first glance, none of the [Programming] Perks appeared to have any immediate synergies with other Perk options I''d been considering. That meant the caution I had exercised, delaying my other Perk selections just to check these out, had been somewhat in vain. However, I couldn''t bring myself to feel too disappointed about it. After all, had the situation been reversed¡ªif these Perks had actually aligned perfectly with my other options and I''d missed out¡ªI would''ve been completely and utterly gutted. So, in the end, I found solace in the old adage: ''Better safe than sorry.'' Yet, this revelation also meant I had the green light to go all out with my remaining Perk selections! With a sense of excitement that was borderline euphoric, I flung open multiple windows within my cerebral interface, channelling the vibe of an 80s sci-fi hacker fervently typing away at a retro computer terminal. First up on the chopping block were the [Meditation] Perks.
[Zen State] Nothing can faze you! You gain the ability to remain completely calm in the face of fear or panic effects.
[Emotional Balance] Become one with your feelings! You gain the ability to resist urges more naturally, regardless of their origin¡ªrage, hatred, love, fear, pain; all of them will seem two stages less severe.
[Astral Projection] Walk the spiritual lands to scout ahead! You gain the ability to briefly enter a state of detachment, while you are meditating, allowing you to scout ahead without being seen or heard by anyone within a 10m radius.
[Serenity] Your body purges what it cannot take! You gain the ability to instantly cleanse yourself of any negative ailments, such as poison, bleeding, etc. by meditating for at least one minute.
Out of all of these, I still hadn¡¯t picked my favourite, but I had a good guess. [Zen State] was really good, but there was a similar Perk available in one of the Edge Attribute Skills, which I was more inclined to pick up. As for the rest of them, they were a real toss-up and too difficult to choose right at that moment¡ªnot when I had more Perks to look at and compare! Next up were the [Throwing] Perks.
[Gravity Defiant] None of your thrown projectiles make any physical sense! You gain the ability to have your thrown projectiles defy the pull of gravity with increased ease. While not entirely unbound, their range is greatly extended.
[Homing Beacon] Tag and Hunt! You gain the ability to have your thrown projectiles create a beacon on-hit, revealing the hit enemy with an outline through walls and other obstacles. This beacon lasts for 1 hour or until more than five targets have been marked at the same time.
[Piercing Projectile] Did that hammer just pierce through him?! You gain the ability to have your thrown projectiles pierce one additional enemy target in a straight line, if the projectile dealt enough physical damage to the original target, regardless of other projectile properties.
[Ricochet] Master the art of calculated bounces! You gain the ability to ricochet any object you juggle or throw up to one additional time, without it breaking, shattering, or losing momentum, regardless of the object¡¯s inherent properties.
[Ricochet] was definitely a double-up from the [Juggling] tree, so a potential miss on this Perk tree. However, considering that [Juggling] had the [Ambidexterity] Perk, I was more inclined to opt for that one on the [Juggling] tree than [Ricochet] at immediate first glance. The [Homing Beacon] Perk caught my eye for its sheer versatility; it didn''t specify any particular type of projectile. That meant I could, theoretically, flick a minuscule pebble at someone and effectively turn it into a homing beacon that would provide wall-hack level information for a solid hour. If that wasn''t game-breakingly powerful, I couldn''t imagine what would be! Yet, the physics-defying traits of both [Gravity Defiant] and [Piercing Projectile] Perks beckoned with undeniable allure. Making this choice was shaping up to be far more challenging than I''d initially anticipated. Finally, the last of the unknowns, that I had only briefly skimmed over, was the [Knives] tree.
[Sharpening] Killed three of them¡ªwith a fucking pencil! You gain the ability to instantly sharpen any edged object to its maximum sharpness. Note that this does not alter the object''s original properties or durability.
[Double Slice] Surrounded? More like, impossible to miss your attacks! You gain the ability to execute two simultaneous melee attacks in different directions, showcasing your mastery over your weapon and battlefield awareness.
[Mirror¡¯s Edge] Perfectly timed defence! You gain the ability to flawlessly deflect incoming projectiles from a limited frontal angle while wielding an edged object, with a one-second cooldown between each deflection.
[Silent Takedown] Wha¡ª ¡ª ¡ª! You gain the ability to execute a flawless strike on an unaware target using an edged object. Should this attack be lethal, the target will expire soundlessly, irrespective of the situation.
The treasure trove of Perks laid before me was both tantalising and agonising¡ªI simply couldn''t have them all, and that hurt. The [Mirror''s Edge] Perk stood out as a near-automatic choice, especially considering the gun-heavy world of Neon Dragons. The ability to deflect incoming bullets, albeit at a rate of one per second, seemed like an invaluable asset that could save my life multiple times over. On the other hand, [Silent Takedown] was an outrageous game-changer in the right situations. Imagine, snuffing out an enemy''s life without so much as a peep escaping their lips. No tumbling from roofs, no painful grunts, no loud thuds from their cyber-enhanced, 500kg bodies crumpling to the ground. Their deaths would be as quiet as whispers, allowing me to move stealthily through hostile terrain. Then there was [Sharpening], equally versatile in its applications. Even if the sharpened object didn''t gain any additional durability, the sheer cutting prowess it offered was staggering. A perfectly honed blade could resolve most confrontations in one slick move¡ªunless, of course, I hit subdermal armour. But even then, as long as the edge remained intact, I could re-sharpen it instantly and try again. Surprisingly, [Double Slice] appeared the least enticing, despite its blatant defiance of physical laws. Attacking in two different directions simultaneously seemed like pure science fiction. Even with a Kiruyashi Implant, a military-grade cybernetic designed to massively boost overall speed, such a feat was impossible. Speed was one thing¡ªbreaking the laws of time and space was quite another. The Perk, however, could do just that. Because that¡¯s how Perks worked¡ªthey were completely and utter bullshit. Lastly, the Perks I had already looked at quite a lot of times before, my [Juggling] ones.
[Ambidexterity] Unlock the true potential of both your hands! You gain the ability to wield and use weapons or tools with equal skill in either hand, eliminating any penalties for off-hand usage.
[Predict Trajectory] Become one with the laws of physics! You gain the ability to visualise the path of any thrown or falling object. This Perk also allows you to fine-tune your bodily movements to intercept and catch thrown or falling objects with greater ease.
[Ricochet] Master the art of calculated bounces! You gain the ability to ricochet any object you juggle or throw up to one additional time, without it breaking, shattering, or losing momentum, regardless of the object¡¯s inherent properties.
[Part Of The Show] Turn near-misses into awe-inspiring feats! You gain the ability to seamlessly catch a falling object within a certain radius around you that you''ve juggled or thrown into the air yourself, making it appear as if the moment was scripted and intentional.
In the end, there was no contest; [Ambidexterity] had to be my inaugural pick for it. Other Skill¡¯s Perk trees that featured it, like [Blades], [Handguns], and [SMGs], were still very far out of my reach, making the ability to wield both hands with the skill of my dominant one an irrefutable and mandatory game-changer for now. This choice would pay dividends not just in my day-to-day life but also in the grinding sessions I had sketched out for my near future. Though the allure of other Perks tugged at me, none could even hold a candle to the sheer versatility and long-term gains that [Ambidexterity] promised. It was a holistic upgrade, impacting everything from weapon handling over skill execution to experience gain. With that crucial decision settled quickly and easily, I braced myself for the labyrinth of choices that awaited me in the other Skill trees. Picking [Ambidexterity] may have been a no-brainer, but the subsequent decisions promised to be anything but straightforward¡­ Chapter 14 - First Steps As I peered into the dizzying assortment of Perks displayed in my cerebral interface, I was gripped by a sense of vertigo. Waiting until the [Programming] Perks were also available for selection had seemed like a smart move, but now I was faced with the paralysing reality of too many choices. "In a video game, this would be easy-peasy," I muttered to myself. "You pick whatever aligns with your build, no sweat. But this¡ªthis isn''t a game. This is the foundation of my life now. I have to strategize for survival, figure out how to earn credits, protect my family... the stakes are monumental." Drawing in a stabilising breath, I physically slapped both cheeks to snap myself back to the moment. "Alright, Sera, get it together. Time to put on your gamer goggles and dissect this labyrinth." As the first order of business, I zeroed in on the [Juggling] Skill tree. [Ambidexterity] was already a foregone conclusion, so I promptly selected it. A pop-up window appeared to confirm my choice, and with a sense of finality, I tapped "OK." A peculiar tingling sensation cascaded through my mind, immediately honing my awareness onto my left arm and hand. It felt as though that limb had been slumbering in a numb, pins-and-needles haze for my entire existence¡ªacross two lifetimes, no less¡ªand had just jolted awake. For a moment, I minimised my cerebral interface to focus solely on this newfound phenomenon. My eyes locked onto my left hand as I opened and closed it, flexing the fingers experimentally. The motions felt strange, almost alien, yet my brain was simultaneously insisting that this was utterly, unequivocally normal. It was a surreal experience, like discovering a room in your house that you''d lived in for years but never knew existed. I marvelled at the peculiar normality of it all, as my newly ambidextrous hand closed into a fist and then relaxed, each movement a reminder of the bewildering and sudden shift in my body''s and brain¡¯s symmetry and capability of handling that had just occurred. While confined to my bed and lacking any proper tools to rigorously test my new ambidextrous abilities, I decided to simply use my left hand to pull the blanket over myself. The sensation was bizarre but paradoxically commonplace. It felt as though I had always used my left hand for such tasks, even though I was acutely aware that was far from the truth. ''This is absolutely insane... but incredibly awesome,'' I mused, the corners of my mouth curling into a gleeful smile. To gain instant ambidexterity at the mere press of a metaphorical button? The entire System was patently absurd, verging on the unbelievable, but who was I to gripe? Certainly not when it was bestowing upon me such invaluable abilities! With the relatively straightforward decision of [Ambidexterity] behind me, I found myself plunged back into the mire of indecision: the daunting task of selecting my remaining Perks. My eyes gravitated toward the [Knives] category, almost as if guided by an inexplicable instinct. ''All these Perks are undeniably compelling, but only one feels like a daily lifesaver,'' I mentally deliberated. ''Sure, [Double Slice] and [Silent Takedown] are tempting, especially if I find myself embroiled in any cloak-and-dagger operations in the future. But for the present, [Sharpening] clinches it for sure.'' I sounded out my choice internally, scrutinising for any twinge of regret. To my relief, there was none. The rationale behind selecting [Sharpening] was pragmatic¡ªit would provide a significant edge, pun very much intended, to my everyday life outside the apartment. It was a kind of universal utility. I couldn''t always guarantee I''d have access to my knife if things went south. The ability to turn practically any object into a lethally sharp implement, even for just one use, was undeniably invaluable. As for the other tantalising options, they each came with their own set of caveats. Take [Mirror¡¯s Edge], for instance, which would require me to be brandishing a knife at the precise moment a bullet came hurtling my way. Firstly, I had no intention of being in a situation where bullets were involved¡ªbig red flag there. Secondly, the odds of me having a knife in hand just as some trigger-happy thug decided to shoot seemed laughably improbable. It was too situationally constrained to be my go-to Perk at this stage, especially considering I had no plans to audition for knife-vs-gun duels in the near future. Besides, similar Perks lurked within other categories like [Blades], [Acrobatics], and the various defence-oriented trees focusing on the different types of armour in Neon Dragons. So, all things considered, I didn¡¯t feel like I was sacrificing much by forgoing it for now. With a decisive click and a following prompt for confirmation, I locked in my [Sharpening] Perk. Of course, I''d have to delay putting it to the test until later in the day, given that I wasn''t exactly keen on keeping sharp objects within arm''s reach while ensconced in my bed. I may have enjoyed myself some edge in a lot of respects, but not so much that it encroached on my sacred sleep sanctuary in a literal sense. With that decision squared away, my gaze shifted to the [Throwing] Perk options. The mental fog of indecision had slowly lifted with my previous choices; my strategy was crystallising. [Homing Beacon] stood out as the indisputable winner of my new strategy. It was blissfully uncomplicated, requiring nothing more than my ability to hurl an object in someone¡¯s general direction. Whether that object was a pebble, a blade, a live grenade, or even one of my trusty sock balls¡ªeach would serve as an effective conduit for the Perk. Just like [Sharpening], [Homing Beacon] seemed to offer a wider spectrum of applications beyond the strictly lethal or incapacitating. While I hadn''t yet pieced together exactly how a tracking ability would factor into my daily life, the sheer potential was tantalising enough. Sure, [Gravity Defiant] and [Piercing Projectile] remained alluring prospects for the future. Especially since throwing was a playstyle I genuinely relished in my gaming endeavours. But for the time being, the streets of Neo Avalis were still a bit too dicey for me to be actively hunting for confrontations. That could wait; I had more immediate needs, and [Homing Beacon] fitted that bill perfectly. With a sense of determination, I swiftly made my selection and confirmed it, barely pausing to second-guess myself. It was then that I recognized I was down to my final pick: The [Meditation] Perk. ''Wow, that escalated quickly. The rush of power-up choices is almost intoxicating,'' I thought, relishing the sheer joy of downloading superhuman, downright physics-defying, abilities straight into my physical being. At first, [Zen State] had been a top contender for my [Meditation] Perk. The logic was simple: Panic and fear were notorious for being both mind and body assassins. But as I reviewed the benefits of the Ego Attribute and remembered various other Skill trees in the game, it became evident that there were multiple overlapping Perks¡ªsome even more potent and useful than [Zen State]. So, despite its allure, I shelved [Zen State]. It would be a short-sighted use of my limited early Perk points to invest in something I could potentially outgrow in the near to moderate future. [Emotional Balance] seemed like a strong option, until I considered the implications for my budding relationship with Gabriel. The Perk promised to even out all emotions, not just the inconvenient ones. Essentially, it was a gateway Perk to emotional detachment, ideal for those in-game murder-hobos who wanted to sidestep the mental repercussions of a high body count. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn''t just a game; this was my life¡ªmy real, actual life. A small but monumentally important detail that I couldn''t afford to overlook at any moment. [Astral Projection] seemed more aligned with an Operator role, which left me with [Serenity] as my last viable option. Unexpectedly, it dovetailed quite well with my previous Perk choices. It was straightforward, incredibly flexible in its applicability, and offered an astounding level of everyday utility. As long as I could secure a mere minute to meditate, I''d be immune to bleeding out or succumbing to poison. It was a powerful example to the concept of mind-over-matter, and I was all in for it. After locking in [Serenity] and confirming my choice, I found myself suddenly finished with my Perk-selection whirlwind. What had initially seemed like an insurmountable task¡ªchoosing just four from a kaleidoscopic array of tempting options¡ªhad turned into an adrenaline-charged experience from the moment I selected the first one. ''Shit, this is addictive. Like, dangerously addictive or exhilaratingly so¡ªI can''t decide,'' I pondered, feeling both exhilaration and a hint of trepidation at the thought of earning more Perk points through copious amounts of grinding in my near future. Glancing at the clock displayed on my interface, I noticed I still had a generous two hours before my regular wake-up time with Gabriel. ''Perfect opportunity to try out [Serenity],'' I thought, deciding on a test run. With a bizarre blend of trepidation and curiosity, I stuck my right-hand pinky finger into my mouth and bit down hard. ''Holy hell, that''s painful! The days of being numb to this kind of stuff are clearly in the rearview mirror¡ªand good riddance,'' I grimaced as a thin stream of blood seeped from the freshly torn skin. ''Okay, let''s do this meditation thing,'' I muttered, still nursing my wounded finger. While the Perk description had been a bit vague on the mechanics, it seemed that all I had to do was engage in a minute of meditation for the benefits to kick in. At least, that''s how it should work in theory. Drawing in several deep, centering breaths and sweeping my thoughts to the side, I slid into a meditative stance with remarkable ease. The copious hours I''d invested in honing my [Meditation] skill over the previous days had evidently left their mark on my mental landscape; probably for the better. However, there was one significant hiccup with my newfound [Serenity] Perk: The inability to monitor time while in the depths of meditation. Counting seconds would contradict the very essence of my meditative practice, which was predicated on total mental stillness and rhythmic breathing. So, it seemed I''d have to rely on an educated guess to gauge when 60 seconds had elapsed¡ªa relatively small window of time, I rationalised. But then, in a twist I hadn''t anticipated, I sensed the exact moment the Perk triggered. A palpable shift, almost as if a tranquil wave had washed over me, told me that [Serenity] had kicked in. Opening my eyes and breaking my meditative trance, I immediately turned my gaze to the pinky finger I had savagely bitten just moments before. What I saw left me genuinely amazed. The lacerations, once jagged and weeping droplets of blood, now appeared sealed. It was as if an invisible suture had knit the skin back together. There wasn''t a trace of residual blood; even the beads of crimson that had begun to clot around the wound had vanished. It was pristine, unblemished¡ªlike a small-scale restoration project completed to perfection. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The [Serenity] Perk hadn''t just staunched the bleeding; it had seemingly erased the evidence of any physical trauma, stopping any would-be infections or poisons in their tracks. I flexed the finger cautiously, half-expecting a latent throb of pain, but felt nothing of the sort. It was back to its optimal state, as if the biting incident had never occurred. ''Wow, talk about a real-time undo button for physical injuries,'' I thought, both exhilarated and a touch disoriented by this surreal development. ¡®I doubt it would work the same way if, say, I got my arm shot off or my heart blown apart, but I¡¯m not inclined to test those, quite yet. Needless to say, I¡¯m more than impressed with you [Serenity]!¡¯ With another two hours to kill until day-time, I decided to simply continue meditating until Gabriel was bound to knock on the metal sheet between our sides. I could never get enough Ego and Intuition experience! Today was also slated to be a momentous one, so a bit of relaxing meditation before the day started would not go awry. After all, I had planned to finally get my Body to 1 and leave the wheelchair¡ªand subsequently, the apartment¡ªfor the very first time!
The chime of earned experience¡ª200xp for both Intuition and Ego¡ªpopped up in my notifications just as the unmistakable knock of Gabriel resonated through the room. "I''m up! About to get changed!" I called out, already mentally prepared for the day ahead. I swiftly reached for the ensemble of my favourite clothes that I had thoughtfully laid out the night before¡ªa meticulous preparation meant to maximise my confidence and comfort for the day ahead. Each garment was chosen with care, embodying my personal style and the sense of empowerment I wanted to radiate¡ªwell, as far as I could with Sera¡¯s extremely limited wardrobe, that was. Today was slated to be a momentous day, after all, and if experience had taught me anything, it was that looking my best had a funny way of making me feel invincible. And on a day like this, I intended to feel as formidable and at ease as humanly possible. Within the limited options of Sera¡¯s cyberpunk-infused, teen goth wardrobe, the pieces I had chosen stood out like jewels in a treasure chest. My eyes fell on the sleek, black, faux-leather pants¡ªaccented with zippers and steel rings that gave it an industrial edge, a bit of raw aesthetic that screamed teenage defiance. To pair with it, I picked a distressed, charcoal tank top that bore digital art designs, faded but still defiantly colourful in a spectrum of neon¡ªpurples, greens, and blues¡ªthat mirrored the lit skyscrapers of Neo Avalis at night. Around my waist, I fastened a utility belt that was as much about fashion as it was about function; it had pouches that could carry anything from spare change to tech gadgets. My footwear was a no-brainer as well, mostly because Sera only owned exactly one pair of boots: A pair of calf-high, lace-up combat boots, their soles thick and chunky, ideal for the uneven, sometimes treacherous terrain of the city¡¯s underbelly¡ªor so I figured. And then, the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance: A lightweight, ebony trench coat, flowing like dark water and equipped with hidden compartments for my gear. Its collar was adorned with understated LEDs, subtle enough not to scream ''look at me,'' but bright enough to make a statement, emitting a low, ghostly azure glow. As I dressed, I couldn''t help but notice the signs of age, wear, and tear on each piece of clothing. The faux-leather pants had scuff marks and creases, their zippers and steel rings a little less shiny than they once might have been. The distressed tank top was living up to its name even more now; the digital art design, though vibrant, was clearly faded from repeated washes. Even my combat boots, while structurally sound, showed the scars of many an urban skirmish: Scratches on the leather, the soles slightly worn down. The coat was no exception. As much as I adored it, the fabric was visibly aged, its once-ebony hue now a shade lighter, almost like charcoal, and the seams showed hints of fraying. The LEDs in the collar, though still functional, didn''t glow as brightly as they probably once had. Each article of clothing, in its own way, whispered stories of days past, of experiences that had weathered it. Putting it all on, I couldn''t shake the feeling that it was time to invest in a new set of gear soon. While I loved the personality these worn pieces gave me, functional integrity was essential in a world as ruthless as Neo Avalis. Practicality always had to come first, especially in a life teetering on the edge of danger at almost every turn. Despite the aged state of my outfit, I felt the material envelop me in a familiar embrace, contouring to my body like an old friend. I was armoured not just with fabric and leather, but also with the intangible essence of my past self and the original Sera herself. The edgy teenager in me rejoiced at the familiarity, but the pragmatist recognized the necessity for future change. Today, I didn''t just plan to navigate through my challenges; I planned to own them. And dressed like this, failure wasn''t even in my vocabulary! Brimming with a burst of newfound energy, I didn''t even give Gabriel the chance to assist me into my wheelchair. As eager as I was, the process of manoeuvring myself into that antiquated piece of mobility equipment quickly deflated my bubble of invincibility. The wheelchair''s squeaky wheels and faded upholstery were a sobering reminder of my limitations. ''Soon, Sera. Soon,'' I mentally assured myself, just as Gabriel''s knuckles rapped lightly against the makeshift sheet that served as a room divider, signalling his intention to come over and help. "Already in it!" I cheerfully called out, my face stretched into a wide grin as I rolled past him, surprising him with my newfound independence. His eyes widened, then filled with unrestrained joy. "Whoa, you can get in yourself now?! That''s fucking amazing, sis!" he exclaimed. The sheer delight that lit up his face made him resemble nothing less than an exuberant golden retriever. And honestly, that boundless positivity was one of the things I cherished most about him so far. "I''ve been grinding those exercises like there''s no tomorrow, Gabe! Mark my words, I''ll be ditching this wheelchair way sooner than you expect," I shot back, my voice tinged with a mix of pride and defiance. Hey, I wasn¡¯t lying now, was I? Gabe''s eyes met mine, filled with a blend of optimism and caution. "I''m genuinely stoked to see you back on your feet, Sera. Really, I am. But please, pace yourself. You know how you can get carried away¡ªI don¡¯t need to remind you of the sockball incident now, do I? Last thing you need is a torn ligament or some such setting you back, okay?" His voice carried that signature note of big-brotherly concern, a morning ritual of ours that somehow managed to be both comforting and slightly annoying. "You bet! No overexertion, cross my heart!" I assured him, throwing my hand over my chest for added dramatic effect. It was a promise I fully intended to keep. After all, I could simply rest a couple of hours to fully reinstate myself. No room for overdoing things here! After bidding Gabriel goodbye, following our routine exchange of morning greetings, I found myself alone in our compact apartment. ''It¡¯s Morbin time!'' I cheerfully thought, only to cringe internally so hard I felt my soul momentarily leave my body. Okay, Gabe, you were right¡ªI did manage to overdo something after all! I¡¯m sorry for being such a bad sister! Shaking off my brief stint with certain, cringe-related, death, I wheeled myself to the centre of our modest living room. Ever since my Body Attribute had bottomed out at zero, I''d moved my exercise regimen off the couch to this central spot. It had become my de facto gym floor, and I was more than ready to jump into today''s workout. Fueled by an intense surge of energy¡ªthank adrenaline for that¡ªI threw myself wholeheartedly into my exercise routine. It was as if the universe sensed my urgency: Just five minutes in, my interface chimed with the sweetest sound I''d ever heard. Objectively, it was identical to every other notification chime I''d received, but this one tasted like victory dipped in honey. My eyes darted to the incoming notifications:
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: Body Attribute has reached 1.
I felt the transformation instantaneously, like the flicking of some divine switch. The sensation that swept through me was nothing short of electrifying, as if an unseen force had unleashed a cascade of raw energy into every fibre of my being. It was like receiving a full-body firmware update, courtesy of the G.E.M.A. System. I could feel each muscle fibre, sinew, and tendon reconfiguring itself, the atrophied tissues suddenly pulsing with newfound vitality. It was incredible but also disorienting. There was a sensation of stretching, of tissues expanding and filling out. I was still far from what one might call ''healthy,'' still alarmingly thin, downright anorexic, but the skeletal rigidity that had plagued me was softening, giving way to a bit of flexibility I hadn''t felt in what felt like a lifetime. As I took a deep breath, the expansion of my lungs felt fuller, less restricted. It was as if someone had finally greased the rusty hinges of my respiratory system. Before, every inhalation had been a concerted effort, a deliberate pull against the weight of my weakened state. Now, air flowed in and out more freely, each breath invigorating rather than exhausting. My arms, previously limp and feeble, felt lighter as I lifted them. I flexed my fingers and rotated my wrists, the range of motion noticeably improved. Mundane movements I had taken for granted once upon a time but had become herculean tasks¡ªlike simply lifting my arm or flexing my fingers¡ªwere now very firmly within my grasp again. I wouldn''t be winning arm-wrestling matches anytime soon, but the simple freedom to move without pain or extreme effort was elating. This was almost assuredly going to improve my [Juggling], [Throwing] and [Knives] grinds in the future as well, which had very much suffered from the severely atrophied state my body had been in. I leaned back in my wheelchair, savouring the small but monumental victory. To anyone else, these changes might have seemed negligible. But for me, moving from Body 0 to Body 1 was a quantum leap, a first step on the path to reclaiming my life¡ªor claiming it, in the first place. With a pulsating blend of excitement and apprehension swirling within me, I clenched the armrests of my wheelchair and took a moment to mentally prepare myself. This chair had been both my cage and my sanctuary since the day I''d awakened in this new world, confined to its moulded contours. But today, it felt more like a launchpad. Inhaling deeply, I began to shift my weight forward, feeling my newly rejuvenated muscles quiver in anticipation. I reminded myself to go slow, to not let excitement make me reckless. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that it felt like a separate entity, urging me on. I had to consciously temper my breathing, steadying my rapid pulse. Very slowly, I pushed off the armrests, my arms trembling but holding firm, my fingers white-knuckled. It was a peculiar struggle, like fighting through an invisible resistance. My body was unaccustomed to verticality, and I could feel each muscle group engaging, faltering, then stabilising as I continued to rise. It was as if the System had uploaded a set of cheat codes directly into my muscle memory, giving me a tutorial on ''How to Stand 101'' in real-time. And then, in a moment that felt simultaneously like an eternity and a split-second, I was up. Actually standing. My legs wobbled beneath me like a newborn deer''s, but they held. I was upright, free from the wheeled contraption that had defined my existence for what felt like way too long. A wild, exhilarating rush of emotions swept over me¡ªvictory, liberation, and a taste of the independence I''d so dearly missed. It felt like breaking the surface after being underwater for too long, gulping in lungfuls of freedom. My eyes brimmed with tears, but they were tears of unadulterated joy. I took a cautious step forward, each footfall a minor miracle. The floor beneath me seemed to hum in resonance with my triumph, or maybe that was just my own trembling body. I couldn''t contain a giddy laugh, a burst of sound that was as much a release of pent-up frustrations as it was an expression of sheer happiness. For the first time in this new world, I was standing on my own two feet¡ªliterally and metaphorically¡ªand the feeling was intoxicating. I knew I had a long road ahead, but right now, in this monumental instant, the possibilities seemed endless. After that exhilarating first taste of freedom, I had to force myself back into the wheelchair to catch my breath and collect my scattered emotions. Overwhelmed and still trembling with excitement, I allowed myself those precious few minutes to recalibrate. It was a very small concession to make, given the giant leap I had just taken. Before long, though, I was up again, as if magnetically repelled from that once-unyielding seat. Liberated from its wheels and armrests, I revelled in my newly reclaimed autonomy. Initially, I didn''t do anything particularly grandiose. I simply wandered around the apartment, taking in the subtle changes in viewpoint that standing afforded me. The landscape of my home had shifted dramatically. Everything was suddenly within easier reach, more accessible. In retrospect, it was glaringly obvious why: This space was not designed with wheelchair accessibility in mind. Countertops that had loomed just out of reach were now approachable; narrow passages that had been a nightmarish gauntlet for my wheelchair seemed to open up. I could hardly even recognize the patches on the carpet that used to snag my wheels, let alone be bothered by them. Emboldened, I made my way into the bedroom I shared with Gabriel, my steps still hesitant but increasingly sure. Slipping on the coat¡ªmy edgy, super cool coat¡ªI attached the combat knife to my toolbelt with a sense of ceremony. This was me gearing up for a new chapter, a reentry into the world outside. Neo Avalis was about to see a new Sera, albeit one with legs still adjusting to their newfound strength, arms that felt like they''d been cooked to a perfect al-dente, and stamina that still had a long way to go. But I was adamant. Today was not the day for half measures. On this momentous occasion, I was determined to step out of our apartment, even if it was just for a few exploratory minutes. It was a declaration, a promise to myself: I was back, and I was only moving forward from here. I made my way to the apartment''s front door, each step a blend of cautious deliberation and swelling anticipation. Until now, this threshold had been the border of my known universe within Neon Dragons, save for a hazy, barely-remembered stint in the hospital at the very beginning. Oddly enough, the door seemed to yield too easily, as if betraying the significance of the moment. Instead of the heralding fanfare or a choir of cherubs that my dramatic side almost wished for, the door emitted a subdued hiss as it slid smoothly into its recess in the left wall. It felt strangely anticlimactic, yet the quiet did little to dampen my mounting excitement. ¡®Here goes nothing,¡¯ I thought, a wave of exhilaration tinged with a hint of nervousness surging through me. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I stepped over the threshold with a sense of purpose, even if my legs still quivered ever so slightly. And just like that, for the first time, I was officially outside the confines of the apartment. The world of Neon Dragons and the city of Neo Avalis now lay before me, and I couldn''t help but think that it was about damn time it met the new Sera¡­ Chapter 15 - Exploring Delta Before diving headlong into the unexplored world of Neo Avalis, I realised there was one crucial detail I needed to sort out: How to lock and unlock the apartment. The last thing I wanted was to find myself inadvertently locked out, forced to sit awkwardly in the hallway until Gabriel returned. That would be a rather anticlimactic way to celebrate my newfound mobility! With one foot strategically placed over the threshold to prevent the door from closing, I turned my attention to the biometric lock panel mounted on the wall beside it. ¡®Looks just like the game version,¡¯ I mused, staring at the familiar design. Tentatively, I placed my hand on the panel''s sensor. A muted beep punctuated the silence, and the LED display above the pad flickered to green, displaying the message "ACCESS GRANTED." ¡®That clears up that little mystery,¡¯ I thought, relieved. Confident now, I took my foot off the threshold and allowed the door to close behind me. For the first time, I stood entirely outside the apartment, both feet firmly planted in a world that had previously been confined to my screen. It was a strange, exhilarating but also deeply anxiety inducing feeling. But I was way too excited to really feel the anxiety! With newfound freedom in my steps, albeit tentative ones, I ventured deeper into the labyrinthine ecosystem that was the megabuilding. These towering monoliths were self-contained cities, vast fortresses of rock-crete, steel, and neon that could shelter over 100,000 people. Everything from high-end shops to lowly food vendors, from corporate offices to grimy factories, could be found within these walls. In the game, there was even a companion who had never left their home megabuilding; their introductory quests had been a crash course in adjusting to life outside this self-contained universe. As I navigated through the sensory overload of trying to look at everything at the same time, I couldn''t help but notice the stark contrast between our floor and the chaotic, dishevelled layers I''d seen in the game. Here, things were different¡ªcleaner, more orderly, less congested. Sure, the cyberpunk aesthetic was intact¡ªglowing neon, grungy stalls, and all¡ªbut there was a relative calm that I found unsettling. A sense of managed anarchy, a chaos contained. The air was fresher, the doors to each apartment seemed more upscale, and even the graffiti adorning the walls appeared more like commissioned art than the frenzied tags of rebels or gangs. It dawned on me then that my family must be exceptionally fortunate. Valeria''s employment status likely granted us access to one of the building''s more ''privileged'' floors. It was a sobering thought, a sharp tug pulling me back from the euphoria of exploration. In Neo Avalis, your social and economic standing was glaringly apparent right down to the specific floor you inhabited within these sprawling megabuildings¡ªa vertical, labyrinthine representation of societal hierarchy.
After roughly ten minutes of navigating through the maze-like corridors of our floor, I arrived at the first elevator bay. If the game''s mechanics had any semblance of truth in this reality¡ªand so far they seemed to¡ªthere would be hundreds of these elevators strategically positioned throughout the behemoth structure, designed to shuttle its teeming masses with some modicum of efficiency. Hesitantly, I stepped into the elevator, immediately struck by the eclectic collage that adorned its interior. Graffiti in fluorescent hues screamed from the walls, creating a wild tapestry of street art that clashed boldly with the faded remnants of older, peeling stickers. Amongst this cacophony were flyers¡ªsome worn and torn, others freshly pasted¡ªadvertising everything from room rentals to local dive bars. Digital ads flickered on embedded screens, hawking cybernetic implants and the latest stimulant drugs. This visual chaos, however, halted abruptly at a giant TV screen that occupied the back wall. Encased in a thick layer of self-cleaning safety glass, the screen remained pristine, its luminous glow free from graffiti or stickers. I tore my eyes away to check the digital readout above the elevator door. Ah, 43rd floor of Megabuilding Delta¡ªHome. I scanned the extensive list of destinations on the elevator''s touchscreen interface and, feeling a frisson of excitement, I impulsively chose a lower level marked by a universal shopping cart icon. With surprising swiftness, the elevator descended, its motion so smooth it was nearly imperceptible. The door parted with a subtle hiss, immediately inundating my senses. The clamour of human voices mingled with the discordant melodies of street musicians. A medley of smells¡ªfried food, the tangy scent of hot metal, the alluring aroma of exotic spices¡ªfilled the air, tempting and overwhelming in equal measure. For a moment, I was frozen at the threshold, my senses trying to assimilate this kaleidoscopic burst of new impressions. Then, taking a deep breath and steadying my still-fragile legs, I stepped out of the elevator, leaving behind the relative sanctuary of the 43rd floor to plunge into the vibrant chaos of one of the megabuilding''s underbellies¡ªthe 16th floor. Neon signs blazed overhead, flickering advertisements for every conceivable product, service, or vice. Vivid holograms pirouetted in the air, their ethereal forms almost colliding with the gritty reality of the people below. Pungent aromas from food vendors filled the air¡ªeverything from synthetic meats to algae-based treats, with scents that were simultaneously alluring and off-putting. Every corner was bustling with activity: A merchant hawking mechanical parts, children running through narrow spaces between kiosks, street¡ªor in this case, hallway¡ªmusicians eliciting chiptune melodies from makeshift electronic devices. There was a ceaseless hum of chatter, machinery, and electronic music¡ªa cacophonous symphony of life in the cybernetic age. A grin unfurled across my face, so wide it almost hurt; this was the living, breathing epitome of "Cyberpunk" I had always fantasised about. It was as if someone had ripped the fantastical scenes right out of the books I''d devoured and slapped them into reality. Standing there, amidst the neon glow and cacophonous sounds, was surreal but invigorating. However, that heady sensation was abruptly shattered by a grating voice that slashed through my reverie. "Hey, you cripple-ass bitch, get the fuck outta the way! You''re clogging up the elevator, you stupid fucking blank bitch." My eyes widened in disbelief at the woman''s acid-laced words. I staggered back, stumbling a bit on my still-unsteady legs. Into the elevator stepped a lanky woman, her physique so thin it was almost skeletal. Chrome enhancements glinted all over her frame, giving her an aura of synthetic menace. Without missing a beat, she flipped me off with a meticulously painted and, frankly, quite striking, chromed middle finger just as the elevator doors slid shut between us. ''Well then,'' I thought, still reeling a bit. ''Note to self: I''m not the protagonist in everyone else''s life story. This world is full of real, unpredictable people, and they sure aren''t all friendly.'' With my initial enthusiasm abruptly chilled, as if dunked into an icy vat of reality, I resumed my exploratory journey¡ªthis time with a heightened sense of awareness. I meandered without a particular endgame, no targeted destination; my primary motive was to flex these newly empowered legs and soak in the immersive tapestry of this new world. Indeed, there was a colossal chasm between observing something through the lens of a video game¡ªno matter how meticulous Neon Dragons had been in capturing the quotidian lives of its NPCs¡ªand physically navigating the labyrinthine hallways under the propulsion of your own two feet. My eyes caught nuanced details that would''ve easily slipped past my notice if I were merely commandeering a digital avatar: The accumulations of garbage heaped haphazardly in overlooked corners, the frenetic gait of some pedestrians who looked as if they were either fleeing from some unseen terror or racing against time, the laid-back swagger of some of the chromed-up citizens who mingled in the throngs, and the overwhelming, awe-inducingly massive architecture of the megabuilding itself. Each step revealed another facet of this sprawling, neon-lit landscape¡ªit was like a Disneyland for cyberpunk aficionados, offering a fresh spectacle at every twist and turn. One aspect that immediately captured my attention, as I wandered the corridors of the 16th floor, was the startling difference in spatial design compared to my home on the 43rd. In my mind''s eye, the hallways of the 43rd floor had always paralleled those of upscale hotels I''d encountered in my previous life¡ªelegant yet efficient passageways bathed in thoughtfully curated lighting. While it never quite achieved the opulence of those hotels, the architectural language was undoubtedly in the same lexicon. Yet, comparing it to the 16th floor was like juxtaposing two entirely different universes. Here, the hallways metamorphosed into pedestrian boulevards. The central avenue was a sprawling two-lane thoroughfare that accommodated the ceaseless flux of humanity streaming in and out. On either flank of this central artery, the pavements were transformed into bustling marketplaces, complete with street vendors and makeshift stores, which had clearly once been residential apartments. What intrigued me further was the ingenuity of the local merchants. I noticed a considerable number of establishments that had expanded their retail footprint by annexing adjacent apartments. The separating walls were unceremoniously knocked down, allowing these entrepreneurial spirits to enlarge their commercial space¡ªa pragmatic and evidently widespread approach to real estate management within this bustling megabuilding. As I continued to meander through this sprawling microcosm, I was struck by how my prior experiences with Neon Dragons had offered merely a microscopic glimpse into the reality of life in a megabuilding. The Let''s Plays and playthroughs I''d vicariously lived through focused mainly on questing and seldom dived deep into the complex world inside these towering structures. I suddenly understood how Devali, the in-game companion whose introductory quests had seemed so laborious, could spend his entire life within the boundaries of a single megabuilding. If I were to meticulously explore every nook and cranny of just this 16th floor, I was confident that I''d find every imaginable aspect of average cyberpunk existence¡ªright here in this teeming mini-city. What really staggered my comprehension was the sheer scale of it all, however. According to the elevator''s floor selection, this megabuilding had over three hundred levels! Granted, the higher I''d go, the less gritty and more exclusive the environment would become, but still, the first couple hundred floors were likely to be as bustling and dynamic as this one, if only out of sheer necessity. Take street food vendors as a case in point; they were the lifeblood of any cyberpunk world¡ªNeon Dragons was no exception to this rule. The concept of cooking one''s own meals was virtually obsolete¡ªgrocery stores being nearly as rare as unicorns and similarly expensive to use. Most residents ventured out at least twice a day to snag their preferred eats from local vendors. Given that over 100,000 souls inhabited this single building, no one floor, no matter how capacious, could possibly cater to the culinary demands of that many people. Consequently, it was a given that clusters of food stalls must appear at regular intervals on multiple floors. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. And that was just the food! The economic and logistical puzzle that underpinned the existence of a megabuilding was far too intricate for me to even begin untangling. This was the sort of subject matter so deep and complex that if someone had managed to write a doctoral thesis on it in my past life, they would have earned a Ph.D. with flying colours! Ultimately, my wide-eyed wanderlust and cyberpunk-induced daydreaming came to an abrupt standstill when an unexpected, yet oddly familiar, chime resonated from the System.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
''Interesting,'' I mused with a smile, ''so even this laborious shuffle with these poor excuses for legs qualifies as exercise. Score!'' As if on cue, I became acutely conscious of the sweat slicking my forehead and the laboured breathing that had somehow slipped past my awareness during my frenzied exploration of the 16th floor. Navigating through the crowd with shaky steps, I zeroed in on the nearest semblance of a seat I could find. The floor was clearly not an option unless I wanted to marinate in who-knows-what. Lowering myself onto the seat should have produced a resounding thud given my fatigue, but instead, it was more like a gentle tap¡ªa testament to my startling lack of mass. I didn''t have a scale to confirm, but if I had to make an educated guess, I''d say my weight was hovering around 35~ kilograms. That was way past venturing into dangerous territory¡ªdownright anorexia, actually. Panting as I tried to regain some semblance of stamina, my ears picked up on the fragmented English of an elderly man directed toward me. "You buy food?" Pulled back into the moment by his inquiry, my eyes scanned the surroundings and I soon realised that I had unwittingly parked myself at a street food vendor, distinctly labelled "Shori Noodles." It dawned on me that my understanding of the name came courtesy of my [Polyglot] trait¡ªit was scripted in Japanese on the neon-blue coloured sign above me. In retrospect, it made complete sense that most available seats would be tethered to food stalls, but in my near-delirious state, this practicality hadn''t crossed my mind. I was too engrossed in my own exhaustion, feeling as if I was on the verge of collapsing. The dilemma was straightforward: I was flat broke, not a single credit to my name. Still, I needed a few more moments to gather my wits and energy before I dared to stand, lest I keel over halfway back to my family''s floor. I had to acknowledge that I''d woefully overplayed my hand on this inaugural outing, and the universe was making me pay for it in spades. Yet, admitting to my mistake didn''t magically solve the immediate problem. "Ahhh, sorry, sir! I don¡¯t have any creds. I just needed to catch my breath for a sec," I managed to stammer out, each word punctuated by laboured inhales and exhales. I sounded less like an energetic 15-year-old and more like someone with a chronic respiratory issue. The elderly Asian man''s eyes narrowed to scrutinising slits, his head bobbing in thoughtful assessment of my forlorn state. I braced myself for the imminent eviction from his seating area, but what came next defied all my gloomy expectations. "No, no. You eat. You stick. Will die. I give food, you eat. Then you help. Say¡­ Two hour, yes?" The man''s voice filled the air once more, his hands animatedly emphasising each point as if trying to bridge any language barrier that might exist. His unexpected kindness caught me off guard, contradicting everything I''d come to expect from the typically cutthroat ethos of the cyberpunk universe. The genre had always painted a picture of a harsh, unforgiving world, disdainful of human fragility at every turn. Therefore, the straightforward offer of a meal in exchange for some labour, simply because I appeared malnourished, was a curveball I hadn''t anticipated. Misinterpreting my hesitation as reluctance, the old man promptly set a steaming bowl of noodles in front of me. At a glance, they resembled ramen but were made from pasta strands tinted in unusual colours. ¡°Listen. Eat. No work, okay? Just eat. No die, you young. Old help young. Okay?¡± His words carried the genuine warmth of someone genuinely wanting to make a difference, however small. Did I really look that wretched? Enough to evoke such deep-felt compassion from this elderly stranger? Evidently, I did. "{Thank you, sir. Truly, I appreciate it,}" I responded in flawless Japanese, a linguistic feat made possible by my [Polyglot] Trait. I could have probably fumbled my way through a basic ''thank you'' even without the Trait¡¯s knowledge, thanks to my years of weebdom, but why risk embarrassing myself when I was so easily capable of perfection? Upon hearing my impeccable Japanese, the old man''s eyes widened in unmistakable surprise. He was a quintessential elderly Japanese figure¡ªslightly hunched back, an apron stained from years of hard work, and a headband soaked in a combination of sweat and oil, marking the years he''d dedicated to his craft. He replied in an equally flawless Japanese, albeit tinged with a distinctive accent that I could immediately place as originating from the Korishama district of Neo Avalis. The realisation surprised me, but I attributed it to the comprehensive package of information bundled with my [Polyglot] Trait. "{Don''t mention it}," he began, his eyes softened by years of both joy and struggle. "{It pains me to see young ones like you suffer in this world. I can''t do much, but I do what I can. My adoptive mother always told me the old should help the young; they are our future, after all}." Finishing his sentimental words, he curiously asked, "{How did you learn Japanese so well}?" "{Ah, I just picked it up, you know, being around the area}," I replied vaguely. He gave me a scrutinising look, as if he was weighing the validity of my statement. "{Well, if you don''t want to share, that''s alright. Eat up, young one}." "{By the way}," he added, introducing himself formally, "{I''m Yan Shori, the owner of Shori Noodles. I''ve been running this stall for the past twenty years. And please, speak English with me in the future. My old brain takes a long, long time to adjust to new things, including languages, so I¡¯m still trying my best to learn}!" As he turned to attend to another customer who had just approached his bustling noodle stand, I was left alone with my bowl of peculiarly-coloured but aromatic noodles, contemplating the enigmatic kindness of Yan Shori in a world that often seemed devoid of it. The instant the first spoonful of savoury broth and noodles touched my taste buds, I''d already mapped out my immediate future: I would work to repay Mr. Shori for his kindness. Living in a world steeped in grim realities, brimming with suffering and untimely ends, his unyielding compassion struck a chord in me. I resolved that it was a flame worth shielding, a rarity worth nurturing. Although my abilities were limited at that point, I planned to give my all in assisting him for the day. My adventures and skill-grinding in the labyrinthine corridors of the Magabuilding and Neo Avalis as a whole could wait; for now, repayment and gratitude took centre stage in my priorities. After I had finished eating, of course.
With a deep, contented exhale, I set down the now-empty bowl before me. It had been generously laden with aromatic broth and those oddly-hued "noodles," which, upon reflection, I''d become pretty certain were not traditional noodles at all. But I consciously set aside any inquiries into their true nature; I wanted to savour the moment and the dish for its undeniable deliciousness. Gripping the well-worn wooden chopsticks and cradling the bowl in my other hand, I rose from the somewhat rickety seat. I navigated my way around the counter and into the intimate, bustling space that was Mr. Shori''s cherished noodle stall. As I stepped into the cosy confines of Mr. Shori''s stall, the old man looked up from a steaming pot and eyed me with a warm, somewhat quizzical expression. "Ah, stick girl! Good food, yes? Full, yes? You go. Stay health," he said, his face breaking into a genial smile. Shaking my head gently, I replied, "I want to help you out. Repay you for the kindness. I really appreciate it. Also, my name¡¯s Sera." He paused, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully for a split second. Almost as if he had been expecting this, he reached down and tossed me a smaller-sized apron that he had seemingly at the ready. My face broke into an uncontrollable grin, a sentiment he mirrored with a casual shrug, as if to say, "Don''t hate the player." "Cut, yes? No cut Sera. Only cut food. Yes?" He gestured toward a stack of ingredients near a well-worn cutting board. Upon closer inspection, the ''ingredients'' resembled some sort of exotic algae. With a resolute nod, I headed over to the designated area, slipping the apron over my head and cinching it at the waist. I also pulled my hair back and secured it with a matching headband that was hanging near the cutting board. As I geared up, I took the opportunity to absorb my surroundings. The stall exuded a strangely authentic Japanese ramen-shop aura, as I would have seen in my old world. From the bamboo accents to the small Shinto shrine tucked in one corner, the place seemed like a tiny oasis of tradition in a world of cybernetic chaos. Steam rose invitingly from various pots, diffusing the air with the mouth-watering aroma of broths and spices. Stools lined the counter, which was adorned with condiment containers, porcelain spoons, and stacks of laminated menus that promised a variety of ramen bowls. Worn wooden signs, scribbled with daily specials in chalk, swayed gently above the counter. Despite its modest dimensions, the stall struck me as a bona fide sanctuary; a haven of warmth and comfort set against the sterile steel backdrop of the towering megabuilding. Oddly enough, its authenticity¡ªso reminiscent of the ramen shops I''d known in my previous life¡ªmade it feel even more like home than the cramped apartment that had confined me for the past week. With a smile warming my face, I reached for the first bundle of the unusual, algae-like ingredients and took hold of the knife resting on the cutting board. My [Knives] Skill kicked in instantly, helping me grip the knife as if it were an extension of myself¡ªthe heft perfectly balanced in my smaller hands, as though I''d been wielding it since infancy. Before I began slicing into the alien algae, there was one crucial matter I needed to sort out, now that a knife was in my grasp¡ªI definitely hadn¡¯t forgotten about testing this until this very moment, no sir: How exactly did the [Sharpen] perk function? I focused intently on the knife, a robust, square-ish blade typical for these tasks, and navigated through my System interface. Try as I might, I found no relevant options. ''How in the world do I activate this perk?'' I pondered, casting another look at the blade. A lightbulb moment came to me: I had used an intangible System ability once before. The day I began my [Juggling] grind and was caught off guard by Gabriel, I''d subconsciously triggered [Blademaster''s Throw] using a sock ball. All I had done was focus my thoughts on throwing it as quickly as I could, and the skill activated autonomously. ''Could it be...?'' I mused, channelling my focus onto the blade''s edge and willing it to sharpen. Almost on cue, a faint, ethereal sound of sharpening reverberated in my mind, and I watched as the knife''s edge slimmed down ever so slightly. "Yes!" I couldn''t help but blurt out, drawing a sidelong glance from Mr. Shori, which I pointedly ignored. Emboldened by a freshly honed knife, I felt truly prepared to repay my debt. Positioning the algae on the cutting board, I set to work chopping them down to roughly match the size of those in the ramen I''d savoured earlier. My [Ambidexterity] Perk proved invaluable, bolstering my confidence as I navigated the large knife through the mysterious ingredients. In my previous life, I''d been a certifiable klutz, so the newfound sure-handedness, granted by my Reflex Attribute, [Knives] Skill, and [Ambidexterity] Perk, felt absolutely liberating. That burst of confidence rapidly turned into a moment of utter dread when the keen blade carved a deep groove into the solid wooden cutting board on my first, light cut. ''Holy shit, this thing is way sharper than I thought!'' I mentally panicked, silently praying Mr. Shori hadn¡¯t noticed my faux pas. The realisation hit me like a bolt: The Perk had specified "maximum sharpness," but it seemed I''d never actually handled a blade honed to such an extreme level before. The disparity between what I had previously considered "maximum sharpness" and this newly acquired edge was, evidently, vast and complete worlds apart. As I held the knife, its blade glinting under the soft light of the food stall, I found myself captivated by its razor-like edge¡ªno, worlds beyond razor-like. I had the urge to gently passed my thumb over it¡ªcareful not to actually cut myself¡ªbut refrained from doing so, as just getting close to the edge created an almost magnetic pull, a sort of raw, latent power emanating from the blade. It was as if the knife itself was beckoning to slice through something, anything, with an efficiency that defied my previous understanding of what might be possible. In my past experience, a sharp knife would cut cleanly and effortlessly, sure, but this was something else entirely. This knife felt like it could separate individual atoms, sliding through the air itself with an eerie absence of resistance. I could almost imagine it effortlessly gliding through steel as if it were warm butter, leaving a polished, mirror-like cut in its wake. The idea that a mere knife could possess such lethal finesomeness left me in awe and utter disbelief. The heavy-set, square-ish blade that had once seemed so commonplace in shops like these had been transformed. It was no longer just a tool; it was an embodiment of precision, a surgical instrument that could redefine what I considered possible in a culinary context¡ªor any context, for that matter. The difference was so profound, it felt like I was holding an entirely different instrument, one that demanded a new level of respect and careful handling. I realised then that I would need to recalibrate my entire approach to cutting the ingredients, to accommodate this newfound level of sharpness that I had so nonchalantly invoked. It was like I had opened the Pandora¡¯s Box of sharpness. Handling the knife with the delicacy one would afford a surgical scalpel, I carefully positioned the first piece of the algae onto the cutting board. With a sense of both trepidation and exhilaration, I lowered the blade towards the unusual, stringy ingredient. The moment the knife made contact, it was as if reality itself conceded defeat. The algae parted almost magically, offering zero resistance, as if they had never been a singular, coherent entity to begin with. Each cut felt like a whisper, a silent example of the blade''s unbelievable sharpness. The experience was mesmerising, almost meditative. The knife slid through the gummy-like material with an ease that made me forget I was even exerting effort. It was like cutting through a dream¡ªeffortless and unreal. I continued this way, enthralled, each slice a minor revelation, each cut deepening my appreciation for this extraordinary tool. So engrossed was I in the rhythm of the knife meeting the algae, that I almost didn''t hear Mr. Shori''s voice breaking through my reverie. "Sera, stop. Way enough cut. Now cook," he called out, pulling me back to the here and now. I looked down at the cutting board and realised I had processed a small mountain of the algae, each piece sliced to near-perfect uniformity. With a slight, sheepish smile, I set the knife down, feeling an odd sense of both fulfilment and reluctance as I stepped away from the cutting board to join Mr. Shori at the cooking station. It was time to switch gears, but the allure of that blade¡ªtransformed into something almost mythical by my [Sharpen] Perk¡ªlingered in my mind as I prepared to take the next step in repaying my debt to this kind-hearted man¡­ Chapter 16 - Culinary Arts "Take ingredient, put here," Mr. Shori instructed, gesturing toward one of the large, bubbling cauldrons set on a sturdy makeshift stove on the ground. His eyes crinkled in a reassuring smile, as if silently encouraging me to take the next step. Given their surprising lightness, transporting the algae didn''t pose much of a challenge, but it became increasingly clear just how carried away I''d gotten with the slicing. By my fourth trek between the cutting board and the cauldron, I couldn''t help but worry that my zeal had translated into wasted ingredients. Once I''d transferred the final batch of algae, the pot seemed ready to burst. Its broth, once freely bubbling, now surged upward, some of it even spilling over the edges in a futile attempt to make room for the invasive algae. I paused, pondering the capacity of the cauldron and whether I had overstepped. Yet, Mr. Shori hadn''t issued a cease-and-desist on my enthusiastic addition of ingredients. So, I reasoned, if I was doing anything catastrophically wrong, surely he would have said something by now. How could he expect an underfed teenager like me to have the expertise of a seasoned chef? Handing me a formidable plasteel ladle that was gratifyingly less hefty than if it had been crafted from steel, Mr. Shori pointed toward the simmering cauldron once again. "Stir. No burn," he tersely advised, leaving me to contemplate the culinary physics of algae and boiling broth before turning to attend to a new customer. The task seemed straightforward enough: Stirring a cauldron brimming with what was essentially flavoured water and fibrous plants. ''Alright, the mission is simple: Don''t let the algae burn in a pot already full of liquid. How hard could it be?'' I thought, gripping the ladle as I prepared to stir my way through this new, uncharted territory. As I soon discovered: Quite hard. Once the algae encountered the boiling broth, they underwent a transformation into a substance closely resembling pasta in texture¡ªthe mystery from my previous bowl now conveniently solved. However, this new algae-pasta displayed an alarming tendency to adhere to everything it touched: The bottom of the cauldron, its rounded walls, and yes, even the seemingly innocent plasteel ladle. The process morphed into a full-scale athletic event, with me wrestling to keep the algae from sticking and burning, constantly agitating a cauldron that now seemed more like a witch''s brew of stubborn pasta. By the time Mr. Shori returned from his sequence of customer interactions, I was drenched in sweat and gasping for air, regretting every extra slice I had made earlier. Mr. Shori wore a crinkled smile that seemed to wordlessly say, "You brought this upon yourself," as he relieved me of the ladle. I didn''t hesitate for a split second before surrendering it and collapsing onto a small footstool, using it as an improvised seat to recover my breath. "Good. No burn. Well done, Stick!" Mr. Shori declared, after a cursory round of stirring. He then gave me a thumbs-up, laden with the particular brand of earnestness that only an elderly Asian man could muster. Struggling to catch my breath, I managed to utter, "My name is Sera, Mr. Shori." He shook his head. "No, no. Go mirror. You stick. Eat food. Be Sera. Now? Stick," he responded, gesturing toward a mysterious, solid-black pane situated at the far end of the stall. Intrigued yet bewildered, I made my way toward what Mr. Shori referred to as a "mirror." I was already well aware of my malnourished physique¡ªno need for visual confirmation¡ªbut the enigmatic black panel beckoned, piquing my curiosity enough to see what insights it might reveal. As I approached, the dark pane flickered briefly, like the rebooting of a forgotten machine. Nanoscopic particles embedded within the solid black surface seemed to rearrange themselves with an uncanny fluidity. The black melted away, revealing an iridescent backdrop that rapidly crystallised into a pristine, hyper-realistic mirror. It was as if a layer of reality had been peeled away, exposing a slice of the world that was truer than true¡ªa cybernetic transition befitting the surrealism of my current life. Seeing my reflection now, as opposed to when I''d first gotten home from the hospital, was a stark confrontation. I was still greeted by the same vibrant green eyes and untamed brown hair that desperately needed a salon intervention. My skin was still porcelain pale, made even more ghostly in the artificial light of the food stall. But what struck me most was the gauntness that had settled on my features. My cheekbones seemed too prominent, casting harsh shadows that deepened the hollows of my eyes. My collarbones were sharply defined, protruding like ridges on a barren landscape. My arms, devoid of any noticeable muscle mass, looked like they belonged to a fragile porcelain doll rather than a living, breathing person. I was skin and bones, literally. The anorexic state of my 154cm-tall frame became glaringly evident now that I was standing, a truth I hadn''t fully grasped while confined to a wheelchair. My clothes draped over me like a tarp thrown haphazardly over a scarecrow, lacking any semblance of shape or form. Mr. Shori''s term "stick" wasn''t just an offhand comment; it was a painfully accurate, albeit crude, descriptor of my current condition. ''He''s right. I am definitely a stick,'' I conceded internally, the weight of the term settling in.'' For a moment, I was grateful for the brutal honesty of the mirror; it was a sobering wake-up call. If I was going to survive, let alone thrive in this world, I had some serious work ahead of me. Work that I had already begun with that full-body workout of stirring the pasta cauldron. I opened the stored up notifications from the System that had chimed in during the excruciatingly exhausting process of stirring, figuring that I had gotten at least some kind of Body experience, but was very surprised when I saw the deluge of notifications flood in.
[System]: [Cooking] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
''Wait a second, [Cooking]?'' Though I''d grown somewhat accustomed to Skills manifesting at the most unexpected moments, the appearance of [Cooking] in particular gave me serious pause. The backstory here was a bit tangled: [Cooking] wasn''t a Skill present in the original game but had been part of the pipeline for an upcoming DLC. The developers had included some rudimentary files related to it in the initial release, but due to time constraints, they had chosen to postpone it. The idea was to flesh out the Skill''s mechanics, then introduce it later as a robust feature in a separate DLC, bundled with a bunch of other Skills and features. By the point in time I''d been transported to this world¡ªthis real-life version of the game, or whatever it was¡ªonly teaser content for the [Cooking] Skill had been released. The previews described it as a hybrid Tech/Intuition crafting Skill, and yet here it was, suddenly unlocked in my Skill set. The question that promptly bubbled up in my mind, causing my brief hesitation, was straightforward yet puzzling: Was this [Cooking] Skill the very same one the developers had originally planned to integrate into the game? Or was it a completely new entity, much like the [Juggling] Skill had turned out to be? After the initial jolt of surprise, I found myself positively thrilled about this newfound Skill. The prospect of being able to level up my Tech Attribute¡ªwhich essentially governed every single type of crafting in the game¡ªat this early stage, without having to drain my non-existent stash of creds on expensive tinkering materials, felt like a godsent. Furthermore, if this version of [Cooking] bore any resemblance to what the developers had hinted at for the upcoming DLC, then I was potentially looking at a skill that could offer me some serious benefits as I levelled it up. By the time I had savoured the last mouthful of the unexpectedly scrumptious algae-ramen, I had already made up my mind: I was going to become a regular at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. Now, however, I resolved to integrate visits to the stall into my daily routine, nurturing the hopeful thought that Mr. Shori might let me lend a hand in the kitchen again. It would be the ideal way to grind out my [Cooking] Skill and Tech Attribute progress without breaking the bank¡ªon top of playing the physical manifestation of Karma and repaying the kind old man for his good deeds. With a newfound sense of purpose, I pivoted away from the mirror and rejoined Mr. Shori, who was deeply engrossed in his culinary arts. He was adding an intriguing blend of spices, an assortment of mystery ingredients, and a sticky substance that almost resembled a runny version of deep-crimson jam to another large cauldron. This particular pot simmered with a deep orange-brown concoction that emitted an intoxicating, mouth-watering scent that wafted through the air. "What are you making now, Mr. Shori? Would you be willing to teach me some of the basics? Unless, of course, it''s a closely-guarded family secret," I inquired. My tone was a blend of genuine curiosity and a smidge of exaggerated enthusiasm. On one level, I was genuinely captivated by the entire process of cooking¡ªa skill I had never mastered in my previous life. On another level, though, my interest wasn''t so much in the specific dish Mr. Shori was crafting, but rather in the general mechanics of cooking: The methodology, the measurements, the timing, and other nuances. And of course, the experience. So while my query wasn''t a fabrication per se, it was somewhat embellished. I was hedging my bets, hoping to maximise my chances of being invited back to assist in Mr. Shori''s culinary domain for the upcoming days. Mr. Shori paused, ladle in hand, and cast a sidelong glance at me. For several weighty seconds, he remained still, his eyes narrowing as if he were appraising a rare artefact. I stood my ground, doing my best to maintain a facade of eagerness and readiness, even though my still-weakened state meant that I had to sneak in a few extra gasps of air to keep my composure. Finally, he let out a noncommittal grunt and sidled over, making room for me at his culinary station. Pointing at the array of ingredients laid out in an almost ritualistic fashion, he began to list them off one by one. "Salt," he started, gesturing toward a simple shaker. "Pepper. Garlic," he continued, nodding toward familiar jars. Then his finger landed on small vials filled with iridescent liquids. "Fulnectar," he said, almost whispering, as if the ingredient itself were a secret. "For sweet and kick." He moved on to another container that seemed to be vibrating slightly. "Mushflakes," he declared, lifting the lid momentarily to reveal a shifting, pulsating mass. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Finally, his eyes settled on the crimson-red jam-like substance. "Umami," he simply stated, as if that single word encapsulated a world of flavour complexities that could not be described any other way. Though I was well-acquainted with staples like salt, pepper, and garlic, and had often heard the term "Umami" thrown around in culinary circles in my past life, the peculiar ingredients like Fulnectar and Mushflakes piqued my curiosity to new heights. These didn''t strike me as real-world ingredients, heightening my suspicion that they were unique to the Neon Dragons universe. Of course, there was the slim possibility that I was just out of the loop, that these exotic items had existed in my previous life and I''d simply never encountered them. But honestly, that didn''t matter one bit to me. What was crucial at this juncture was understanding the role each of these ingredients played in Mr. Shori''s cooking. I needed to fathom their flavours, their properties, and most importantly, why, specifically, Mr. Shori deemed them indispensable for his recipes. As I inched closer to examine the Fulnectar more intently, Mr. Shori bestowed upon me a satisfied nod, as though I had just cleared some unspoken culinary initiation merely by leaning in for a closer look. "Try. Very sweet. Strong kick," he articulated, extending an opened vial toward me with an encouraging glint in his eyes. Intrigued, I reached for the vial of Fulnectar, my fingers barely brushing against Mr. Shori''s calloused hands as I took it. I hesitated for a moment before bringing it to my lips, keenly aware of the foreign world I was in and the unexpected surprises it had offered so far. As the liquid touched my tongue, a sweetness like nothing I had ever experienced before flooded my senses. But it wasn''t just sweet¡ªit had an effervescent quality that tingled, followed by a warm, spicy kick that contrasted the initial sweetness and lingered on my palate. "Wow, that''s¡ªwow," I stammered, my taste buds still grappling with the complexity of the flavour profile. "Next, Mushflakes," Mr. Shori announced, thrusting forward a small dish filled with what appeared to be soggy, squirming mushrooms tinged with a kaleidoscope of iridescent hues. I hesitated for a moment, mentally steadying myself¡ªthe incessant wriggling sensation as I picked one up was deeply unsettling. Nonetheless, I committed after taking a deep breath, closing my eyes tightly and took a tentative bite. To my astonishment, the texture was a complete betrayal of its soggy appearance, delivering a satisfying crunch instead. I found myself torn over whether this surprising consistency was a relief or an added layer of weirdness¡ªthe stark contrast between its visual presentation and actual texture only amplified the unsettling aura that enveloped this bizarre ingredient. The flavour was nothing short of a gastronomic rollercoaster, however. It began with an earthy richness, swiftly cut through by a metallic tang, and rounded off by a subtle smokey note that seemed to wrap around my taste buds like a warm blanket. It was simply ¡®taste¡¯ on steroids, disconcertingly surreal but somehow still tethered to culinary reality. "Good for broth. Add thickness," Mr. Shori explained with another one of his nods, seeming pleased with my reactions. "This," he paused, holding up a jar filled with a crimson-red jam-like substance, "Secret." "Secret?" I repeated, already curious from his simplified yet captivating introduction. "Flavour essence. Many things. Old world, new world¡ªmix. You try." I scooped a small amount of the jam-like paste onto my finger and tasted it. Instantly, my mouth was awash with a blend of flavours so complex and intricate that it felt like an entire symphony was being conducted on my tongue. Salty, sweet, sour, and a deep, robust savoriness¡ªit was all there, mingling in harmony. "Mr. Shori, this is incredible," I uttered, almost overwhelmed. It was as if a gateway to an uncharted realm of culinary adventures had suddenly flung itself open, irresistibly inviting me to venture into its depths. With my newly acquired Skill in hand, I felt a surge of excitement to delve into this untouched territory. The so-called ''secret'' ingredient was particularly captivating, boasting a labyrinthine tapestry of flavours that left me utterly stumped. I couldn''t even begin to fathom how I''d incorporate it into my own cooking¡ªassuming, of course, I could ever get my hands on it outside of Mr. Shori''s stall. At my exclamation, I noticed Mr. Shori''s eyes narrow for a moment before they twinkled with what I could only interpret as satisfaction. Swiftly, he ladled some of the simmering broth from the main cauldron into a smaller pot, scooping just enough for four or five servings similar to the bowl I had received earlier. He set it before me on a more diminutive heating plate, the golden liquid bubbling softly as it began to boil. He then reached for a handful of spoons, and with a gesture that suggested more ceremony than I initially understood, he handed them to me. "Taste. Then Spices. You cook," he uttered, his voice terse but resonant, and just like that, he stepped away, leaving me alone with the pot of mystery broth. For a moment, I felt bewildered. Had I just been promoted from a casual observer to an apprentice in Mr. Shori''s stall? The pot in front of me was boiling gently, wafts of fragrant steam rising and teasing my senses. It felt like a test, an initiation maybe, and I couldn''t help but feel the weight of the opportunity mixed with a sprinkle of anxiety. Was I really prepared for this? Did my newfound Skill include the intuition required to master this mysterious dish? My eyes darted to the assortment of spices and ingredients lined up beside the stove¡ªsome familiar, some alien¡ªand I felt both daunted and exhilarated. "You: Salt, garlic, pepper. Rest good. Only three," Mr. Shori enunciated, deliberately pausing between each word as he gestured toward the trio of shakers that contained the specified seasonings. Upon closer examination of the broth, it was evident that several ingredients had already been integrated into the mix. The enigmatic ''secret'' ingredient was undoubtedly present, as were the Mushflakes. My astute powers of deduction led me to surmise that Fulnectar had likely been added as well. The realisation clicked: Mr. Shori''s aim was for me to grasp the rudimentary skills of seasoning, all while working from a pre-prepared, sophisticated base. Since I''d already sampled his culinary concoctions, he must have reasoned that I could approximate the flavours¡ªif he supplied the essential building blocks, that is. My respect for Mr. Shori had soared to new heights in that exact moment. The man was unequivocally a genius in the realm of culinary instruction. His method was, without a doubt, the most effective way to capture the true essence of cooking, at least from my vantage point. In my past life, the subtle art of seasoning had remained an enigma, decipherable only when I had a recipe to follow with unyielding fidelity. But there, enveloped by the rich aromas emanating from Mr. Shori''s culinary domain, a mental switch had finally flipped. The neurons in my brain had aligned in an epiphanic "aha" moment. Seasoning wasn''t about slavish adherence to written instructions. A recipe was merely someone''s attempt to codify their initial culinary explorations, a preliminary sketch aimed at capturing a transient gastronomic experience. My newfound insight clarified why a dish I had sampled at a friend''s home during a rare international vacation had tasted so markedly different from my own version, even though both had been based on the same recipe. My old-world self had meticulously followed the prescribed steps, never daring to deviate or innovate. My friend, on the other hand, had likely approached the recipe as a foundational outline, a springboard from which to experiment, tweaking and calibrating until the flavours resonated with their own culinary preferences. The revelation was a culinary watershed: Cooking was as much an art form as it was a technical science, a fluid dance between flavours and technical know-how. Suddenly, the developer''s decision to classify [Cooking] as a hybrid Skill of Intuition and Tech resonated with profound clarity. The Tech aspect encompassed the technical nuances, the precise calibrations of heat and time needed to elicit specific outcomes. Meanwhile, the Intuition aspect embodied the more nebulous facets of cooking, like seasoning, which relied heavily on a chef''s individual artistry and flair. As the epiphany fully coalesced in my mind, a sequence of chimes from the System resonated, one of them distinctly prominent, and I felt a torrent of knowledge abruptly flood my consciousness.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. (First time taste bonus.) [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. (First time taste bonus.) [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. (First time taste bonus.) [System]: 500xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: [Cooking] has reached Level 1.
The influx of knowledge was like a crash course in Cooking 101, saturating my mind with a wealth of culinary wisdom. It covered an array of techniques, from the basic knife skills for different kinds of cuts, something that hadn¡¯t been part of the [Knives] Skill, as that one was more focused on actual combat or handling, rather than technical knowledge of specific cuts, to the correct usage of pans, pots, woks and other utensils. It elucidated proper heat management, underscoring the significance of controlling temperature for specific dishes¡ªwhether to maintain a slow simmer for a rich broth or to crank up the heat for a quick stir-fry. As for seasoning, the information corroborated the realisation I had just come to: That it was less about strict adherence to a recipe and more about understanding the palate and adjusting flavours accordingly. A touch of salt here, a sprinkle of pepper there, a splash of olive oil to carry it all; it was about creating harmony within the dish. Further still, the knowledge delved into the chemistry of cooking¡ªhow different ingredients react under heat, why acids and fats balance each other, and how to make emulsions or reductions. It touched upon food safety, stressing the importance of proper food handling and storage, from preventing cross-contamination to the ideal temperatures for refrigeration and freezing. Lastly, it even provided insights into the world of baking, highlighting the delicate balance of wet and dry ingredients, the impact of different leavening agents, and the science behind achieving the perfect crumb structure in breads and cakes. The course was comprehensive, to say the least. It left me momentarily stunned and I had to steady myself on the nearby wall of the stall to not topple over and fall into the boiling pot of broth before me. It was truly astonishing just how much could be condensed into a single Skill Level. Even [Programming], the only other Skill that had imparted such a significant amount of knowledge upon levelling, couldn''t hold a candle to the intricate culinary universe that had just been downloaded into my brain. While it definitely had its own complexities, the realm of [Cooking] was a multi-layered tapestry of techniques, chemistry, and artistry that made everything else I had attempted so far seem straightforward in comparison. As I scanned the area for Mr. Shori, apprehensive that he might interpret my momentary loss of equilibrium as a sign of frailty¡ªthus sending me back home to recuperate¡ªI was relieved to find him back at the front of the stall, energetically assembling bowls for a small crowd of customers. ¡®Hmm¡­ I have a mission ahead of me, but first¡­ I need to check the Perks. I just have to.¡¯ In a flurry of deft navigational moves, I accessed the G.E.M.A. System interface and pulled up the Perk Tree for [Cooking]. Now that I''d reached Level 1, it was high time to get a glimpse of the opportunities that awaited me down this Skill''s path.
[Recipe Detective] [Requirement: Level 3 [Cooking]] One bite is all it takes! You gain the ability to instantly deduce the recipe of any dish you taste, adding it to your list of known recipes.
[Resourceful Chef] [Requirement: Level 3 [Cooking]] Waste not, want not! You gain the ability to elevate the quality of cooking materials, treating them as if they were one grade higher for crafting purposes.
[Meal Planner] [Requirement: Level 3 [Cooking]] It doesn¡¯t have to be a Sunday! You gain the ability to access an ethereal pantry where you can store up to five self-crafted meals. Accessible at any time outside of combat, this intangible inventory prevents your stored food from spoiling, getting lost or otherwise messed up.
[Cooling Concoction] [Requirement: Level 3 [Cooking]] The cold never bothered you anyway! You gain the ability to craft a special drink from Tier 3+ cooking materials. Consuming this elixir regulates your body temperature to match the ambient environment without affecting your biological functions. Additionally, the concoction offers a degree of protection against heat-related damage, up to a set limit that is based on the Tier of ingredients used in its creation.
[Gourmet] [Requirement: Level 3 [Cooking]] A true connoisseur! You gain the ability to craft dishes that feature up to two distinct effects at the same time.
''Incredible...! Some of these Perks are straight up cheat codes for cooking,'' I mused inwardly, my eyes carefully dissecting each option on the screen. If the [Cooking] Skill in this realm functioned like its DLC counterpart was rumoured to, every self-crafted dish would bestow a temporary buff effect. That was a tantalising proposition, particularly given my current fragility in just about every aspect. Crafting basic dishes to bolster my weaker stats could serve as a crucial springboard into this new existence. And who knows, perhaps I could even turn a modest profit in the process? Among the plethora of Perks, [Recipe Detective] struck me as immediately invaluable, promising to expedite my accumulation of a vast array of recipes. Equally compelling was [Resourceful Chef], which could alleviate my creds crunch by enabling me to transform mediocre ingredients into palatable meals. I speculated that once I mastered the art of Mr. Shori''s bowls, this Perk might let me enhance them even further. After all, the description just mentioned ''elevating the quality of cooking materials,'' without stipulating a specific tier requirement. The remaining Perks looked so irresistibly beneficial that I felt a familiar pang of indecision, much like when I first discovered the [Programming] Skill tree. Once again, I found myself yearning for every single one... Chapter 17 - Surprises Equipped with the newly acquired wisdom from the first level of my [Cooking] Skill, I took on Mr. Shori''s culinary challenge. My first step involved sampling the simmering broth laid before me, trying to identify what tweaks it needed to replicate the taste I''d relished just a short while ago. However, the moment the spoonful of hot, golden liquid touched my tongue, I was thrown for a loop. ''What in the world¡ªwhy is this so fucking intense?'' This broth was a far cry from the one I''d savoured earlier; it was markedly stronger, by perhaps 30 to 40 percent. Instead of offering a nuanced symphony of spices and flavours, it felt like an ambush on my tastebuds¡ªan all-out barrage of clashing tastes. ''Could Mr. Shori have messed up with this particular batch?'' I wondered. ''This isn''t the broth containing the algae I prepped, so it has to be his own creation¡­'' Baffled, I ruminated over the perplexing situation before me, my curiosity piqued by the broth''s startling potency. Just as I was starting to really mull it over, however, an epiphany burst forth from the depths of my consciousness, as if delivered by the knowledge bequeathed by my new Skill. "It''s lacking the elements that would soften its flavour profile¡ªthe algae and what we might as well dub ''vegetables,''" I muttered to myself, my smile broadening with a newfound sense of accomplishment. This instantaneous knowledge transfer was so goddamn overpowered! I no longer had to wrestle with problems like this; all I needed was to nudge my mind in the right direction, and it would autonomously unearth the solutions, guided by the amalgam of knowledge provided by the Skills, Perks, and Traits now at my disposal. Now, the crux of the matter loomed: Had Mr. Shori intentionally left out ingredients to test me, or was he expecting me to season the broth in its current state? No sooner had the dilemma begun to percolate in my mind than the answer spontaneously materialised. "I need to season it as-is; otherwise, the additional ingredients will overcook in the broth!" The words burst forth involuntarily, propelled by a giddy sort of clarity. A spontaneous giggle of exhilaration bubbled out of me, prompted by the weird yet incredible sensation of having a vault of culinary wisdom readily accessible. The sound was enough to divert Mr. Shori''s focus from his work. "You done? No fun! Only work. Then fun," he directed, his ladle gesturing pointedly at the simmering pot before me. I couldn''t help but notice the subtle tightening of the skin around his eyes as he spoke. ''This crafty old man is having the time of his life commanding me around!'' Well, so was I. So good for him! With a mental nod to myself, I refocused, leaning over the pot to sort out the next steps for perfecting my broth. The lingering question, however, still nagged at me: I had no baseline for how the unadorned broth should taste. ''Well, there''s a straightforward solution for this, isn''t there?'' I mused internally. Slipping away from my station, I moved toward one of the pots Mr. Shori was actively using to prepare bowls for the impatient clientele. As I passed behind him, he paused, pivoted slightly, and gave me a fleeting, narrowed-eyed glance before refocusing on the barrage of customer orders. ''Is that tacit approval?'' I puzzled. Mr. Shori''s micro-expressions were difficult to interpret, but I reasoned that if my actions were really unacceptable, he would have either told me to go away or brandished his ladle as an improvised weapon¡ªthere was even a Skill for that! Swiftly, so as not to obstruct Mr. Shori¡¯s culinary ballet, I deftly filled a spoon in each hand¡ªmy ambidexterity came in handy here in not dropping any of the valuable broth on the floor¡ªand retreated to my simmering pot. Taking the first spoonful to my lips, I concentrated on the taste, dissecting each flavour note, texture, and nuance. For the second spoonful, I preceded it by rinsing my mouth with water from a tap, the very one Mr. Shori used for cleaning bowls. ''Here¡¯s hoping it''s not some kind of utility water¡­ or worse,'' I thought as I took a sip to cleanse my palate. Then, with refreshed taste buds, I delved into the second spoonful, savouring it as I scoured my senses for any subtleties that might have eluded me the first time. With renewed focus and a strong sense of purpose, I immediately reached for the trio of shakers that Mr. Shori had so deliberately highlighted¡ªsalt, pepper, and garlic. The wisdom imparted by the first level of my [Cooking] Skill guided me, reminding me that the subtleties of these basic ingredients were often underestimated. First, I unscrewed the cap of the salt shaker, taking a cautious sniff before dabbing a bit on my tongue to taste it¡ªyep, definitely salt. Even in this cyberpunk universe, salt was just salt. I pinched a small amount of the white minerals between my fingers and gently let it rain down over the steaming surface of the broth, stirring it thoroughly afterward. I didn''t want to overwhelm the natural flavours but rather enhance them, adding just enough to make the other ingredients pop, or so I hoped. Next, I picked up the pepper shaker, forgoing the sniff test to avoid an ill-timed sneeze into the broth¡ªI was fairly certain that sneezing into the food wasn''t Mr. Shori''s secret culinary technique; at least I hoped so. Upon tasting, I found it to be a rather typical white pepper, albeit with a slight acidic undertone. My newly acquired [Cooking] Skill chimed in, advising me that a judicious application could lend a nuanced spiciness to the dish, but overdoing it would be catastrophic¡ªthe only fix would be dilution through additional ingredients. With deliberate intent, I gave the shaker a few calculated shakes over the pot, visualising the minute granules scattering into the broth, imbuing it with their complex warmth as if I was an alchemist creating a complex elixir. Finally, it was the garlic¡¯s turn. Garlic had the potential to provide both a pungent kick and a mellowness when cooked down. I opened the shaker and released a controlled dash into the mix after tasting it and reminding my brain what garlic tasted like. My mind replayed Mr. Shori''s prepared broth, recalling the nuanced way garlic had woven itself through it. Stirring the pot once more, I allowed the seasonings to mingle and meld. I scooped up a spoonful of the amended broth, savouring its aroma before tasting it. The flavours were instantly more rounded, layered, and deep. The salt had served to amplify the broth''s inherent flavours, the pepper had introduced a nuanced zest, and the garlic had woven in a layer of aromatic depth. Yet the brew wasn''t quite where it needed to be. So, in a meticulous dance of seasoning, I added more of each element incrementally. I tasted and stirred after each addition, ever so cautiously edging towards that elusive perfect blend. Finally, after an intense five minutes marked by ceaseless tasting and iterative adjustments, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. Every component had made its mark without overpowering the others. I had achieved a culinary equilibrium that many recipes aspired to reach but rarely did¡ªa feat I had never managed to accomplish in my previous life. The pleasure of this small achievement washed over me. I felt like an alchemist who had just transmuted ordinary metals into gold. As if on-cue, a satisfying chime sounded in my head as well, informing me of my much deserved gains.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. (First time recipe bonus.) [System]: 100xp gained for Tech Attribute.
Fueled by this massive dose of dopamine, I seized the first available moment to signal Mr. Shori that I had successfully accomplished the task he''d assigned me. As Mr. Shori made his way toward the pot, his steps were measured and deliberate, each one seemingly calculated to tell me, "This is serious business." The air grew thick with anticipation as he picked up a ladle. He was a seasoned veteran in the world of flavours, and that ladle was his weapon of choice. Dipping it into the broth, he brought the liquid up to his nose first, sniffing it critically. Then, he tasted it, rolling it around his mouth before swallowing. His face was an inscrutable mask; not a single emotion leaked through to give me even the slightest clue. I felt a coil of anxiety winding tighter within me, the seconds stretching into minutes in my mind. Finally, Mr. Shori looked at me. It was a subtle thing, but his eyes softened just a smidgen, and he gave me the tiniest of nods¡ªa single, minuscule motion that only an old Asian man could make feel like the greatest stamp of approval. A tiny whoop of excitement escaped my lips. His eyes twinkled with amusement even as he playfully chided, "Quiet! Work, no fun." And then, shifting into teacher mode, he moved over to a shelf and pulled down four to-go boxes. The boxes were unlike any typical food container. Sleek and dark, they bore the stall''s name in neon-luminescent characters that seemed to pulse softly. I noticed a small interface on the side¡ªa touchscreen, perhaps?¡ªand it became clear these were no ordinary containers. They looked like they had their own power source, likely designed to keep the food at the optimal temperature. As he began to fill each box with the necessary ingredients and then poured in my carefully seasoned broth, he made sure I was watching every move he made. Finally, he closed the lids securely, and the boxes seemed to hum softly, as if coming to life. While the technology was undeniably cool, a thought occurred to me. In a world where a large percentage of the population couldn''t even afford to eat properly, the existence of such high-tech food containers felt like an obscene form of extravagance. This was one of the things about cyberpunk worlds I had always found intriguing¡ªthe glaring inequities, the overabundant technology amidst the decay. But now that I was living in such a world, I found it increasingly hard to romanticise. This wasn''t a plot device or a world-building element anymore; this was real life for people, and it was far from fair. "Here. Take," Mr. Shori abruptly cut through my train of thought, handing me a bag that contained the four high-tech boxes. The bag itself was surprisingly sturdy, crafted from a durable synth-plastic designed to withstand the weight¡ªunlike those terrible, carry-handle plastic bags from my old world, that fell apart the second you looked at them. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ''A delivery mission? Easy peasy!'' My mind raced with anticipation, but as I hefted the surprisingly heavy, neon-luminescent containers within the bag¡ªwhich, at second look, each resembled a kind of bento box that had been reimagined by a cyberpunk enthusiast¡ªI had to recalibrate my initial excitement. ''Let''s just hope this isn''t a marathon delivery. My arms and legs aren''t built for long-haul cargo. Yet. Not built for that, yet.'' Meeting Mr. Shori''s gaze, I awaited further instructions, but he just stared back. A pregnant pause hung in the air, both of us seemingly locked in a standoff of unspoken expectations. My limited stamina ticking away like a silent clock, I finally broke the silence. "So, where should I deliver these, Mr. Shori?" The mere arching of one of his brows was a language unto itself, immediately informing me that I was missing some crucial piece of the puzzle. His subsequent words corroborated my feeling of cluelessness. "No delivery. Stick food. So Stick become Sera. You go now. Come back tomorrow, yes? You help, I give food. You help lots, I give food and creds, yes?" Stunned, I looked at Mr. Shori, my mouth opening and closing like a malfunctioning mechanical door. Did he seriously offer me all this food for free and even credits for potential future work? I was so overwhelmed that I couldn''t find the right words, a torrent of gratitude, surprise, and genuine happiness jumbling together in my mind but refusing to translate into coherent speech. Mr. Shori seemed to sense my emotional disarray. With an eye-roll so miniscule it could have been mistaken for a twitch, he made a shooing gesture, embodying that peculiar blend of annoyance and affection that only an elder could pull off. "Go, go," he muttered, playfully nudging me out of the stall with the neon-luminescent food boxes shining through the plastic bag in my hands. As I made my way back to the elevator, the ambient neon lights casting their multicoloured glow on my path, my mind kept circling back to Mr. Shori. Underneath that stern, no-nonsense exterior was a man of surprising kindness and generosity. At that moment, I revised one of my prior mental notes with some additional notes. I would definitely be coming back tomorrow, integrating Mr. Shori''s stall into my newfound daily routine of hustles and grinds. After all, it wasn''t just about the food, experience or even the very inciting offer of creds anymore; it was about belonging somewhere. And maybe, just maybe, learning a thing or two from a seasoned soul who seemed to understand life''s complex recipe better than most in this strange, cyberpunk world. Before I realised it, I found myself back at the elevator that had initially delivered me to floor 16. I waited for its arrival, feeling distinctly aware of the penetrating glances from a handful of dubious characters who hovered in the vicinity. When the elevator doors finally hissed open, I weaved through the exiting passengers with surprising agility¡ªthank goodness my Reflex stat was at a 3 and not languishing at a 1 like my Body stat, otherwise, I would''ve inevitably collided with several people. Once safely inside the elevator''s confines, I let out an inconspicuous sigh of relief, glad to be out of the eyeline of those unsettling individuals. ''Don''t let your guard down like that, Sera. Mr. Shori''s kindness may have lulled you into a false sense of security, but this world is anything but nice. Keep your fucking head in the game! You can¡¯t afford to get aced just like that,'' I internally admonished myself, reaffirming my commitment to remain vigilant until I was securely back at home. However, as the elevator began its ascent, a new problem dawned on me: How, exactly, was I going to reach floor 43? Although my biometrics granted me access to that restricted level, the elevator would bypass it if even one occupant lacked the necessary biomarker or access shard for clearance. ''Damn it, what''s the plan now?'' I thought, anxiety knotting my stomach as the elevator numbers incrementally climbed. ''How am I supposed to get home?'' Pondering my dilemma, my mind raced through a litany of potential solutions. The idea of seeking out a staircase flashed across my thoughts, but was almost immediately dismissed. Given the considerable distance I had already travelled from Mr. Shori''s stall to the elevator, the mere thought of locating a staircase¡ªassuming one even existed that allowed public access to restricted floors¡ªand then climbing up or down even a single level was a physical impossibility. Especially while lugging around Mr. Shori''s generous serving of food. No, my body was already screaming from the day''s exertions. The muscles in my arms and legs quivered, teetering on the edge of outright rebellion. I realised the best¡ªthough far from ideal¡ªcourse of action would be to linger at the back of the elevator, unobtrusive and inconspicuous, waiting for that elusive moment when I would be its sole occupant. Only then could I access floor 43 without triggering any security protocols. ''Note to self: ask Gabriel how he manages this. There''s got to be a better way,'' I mentally bookmarked. In the game world, as far as I could discern from the streamers and content creators I used to follow, elevators were almost perpetually empty¡ªa convenient coding decision, presumably, to avoid this very complication from occurring to the players. It wasn''t a foolproof plan, but it was the only one that my exhausted body and mind could conjure at the moment. So, I settled in a corner, my senses still keenly alert, as I awaited the chance to continue my journey homeward.
After enduring more than thirty gruelling minutes relegated to the back of the elevator, feeling like a dollar-store version of Sadako from a second-rate horror film, my moment finally arrived: The elevator was empty but for me. Wasting no time, I jabbed the button for the 43rd floor on the touch-panel console. A sense of profound relief washed over me as the screen flashed a green "ACCESS GRANTED," confirming that my biometrics had passed the requisite security check. "This is fucking absurd. How the hell does Gabriel get through this? Valeria would never stand for such nonsense either," I mumbled under my breath. My frustration had long since reached a boiling point, threatening to erupt in a tempest of expletives. The slender thread that had saved me from a total emotional breakdown was a lone notification that appeared around the 20-minute mark.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
''Well, at least I¡¯m not suffering entirely in vain,'' I''d repeated to myself like a mantra, clutching that scant burst of dopamine as if it were a lifeline, sustaining me through the interminable wait. As the elevator''s doors finally parted with a subdued hiss upon reaching the 43rd floor, I darted out, acutely aware that lingering could risk the elevator imprisoning me once more by sealing its doors and whisking away to some other destination. The moment my feet touched the plush carpeting of my home floor, the contrast hit me like a tidal wave. Before descending to the chaotic labyrinth of the 16th floor, I had mentally noted the disparity between the two worlds. But pondering inequality was one thing; feeling the tactile reality was another beast entirely. Despite being separated by a mere elevator ride, the 43rd floor felt like a sanctuary¡ªan oasis of calm and affluence that stood in stark, unnerving contrast to the cacophonous jungle just 27 floors below. Walking through the spacious corridor toward my apartment, each step felt like a mini-vacation compared to the taxing trek on the 16th floor. The air here was palpably different¡ªcrisper, cleaner, infused with a subtle, calming fragrance that contrasted sharply with the acrid odours I had encountered below. I hadn''t even realised the extent to which my muscles had tensed up during my time away until they began to unwind, unravelling a knot of stress I hadn''t been fully aware of. My shoulders dropped, my clenched jaw relaxed, and my breathing deepened. I felt enveloped by an invisible shroud of security that had been conspicuously absent on the 16th floor, where the atmosphere had been imbued with an unspoken, yet palpable, undercurrent of threat. Another detail struck me¡ªthe relative emptiness. Here, on this sprawling, comparatively luxurious, level, I saw maybe three or four people sauntering down the long, art-adorned hallways. They moved with an unhurried grace. It was a stark contrast to the teeming masses I''d manoeuvred through on the 16th floor. Thousands of people had been crammed into that chaotic labyrinth of humanity, each one a potential collision, a possible conflict. Up here, the absence of that incessant pressure was like lifting a weight off my chest. The experience of descending to the 16th and then returning to my own exclusive domain was surreal¡ªlike passing between separate dimensions that coexisted in cruel juxtaposition. It was as if I''d gone from a teeming bazaar in some overpopulated megalopolis to a serene, manicured suburban enclave in the span of an elevator ride. It was both disconcerting and deeply illuminating. I had an abode here, a sanctuary of peace and privacy, and I never wanted to take that for granted again.
After carefully setting down the cyberpunk¡¯d bento boxes¡ªMr. Shori''s generous gift¡ªon the kitchen table, I sank into one of our old, slightly worn-out chairs. A random thought flitted through my mind: This was the first time I''d actually sat in that chair since arriving in this world. Every fibre of my being ached, as if I''d been subjected to a full-body workout courtesy of a seriously sadistic gym instructor. Muscles I didn''t even know I had were vociferously protesting, yet a wave of elation washed over me, drowning out the physical discomfort. My first foray outside the apartment had yielded far more than I could have ever anticipated. I had not only unlocked a brand-new Skill but a crafting Skill at that¡ªone with experience points already trickling in. I''d also established a rapport with Mr. Shori, a local with seemingly vast amounts of reach via his stall, and secured what amounted to an apprenticeship and a part-time job rolled into one. The richness of the day''s accomplishments played in stark contrast to my initial physical limitations, making the victory all the sweeter. If this series of achievements didn''t constitute a monumental win in the game of life, then I shuddered to think what would. By my own personal scorecard, this day was indisputably marked with a giant, neon-glowing ''W''. For the moment, though, my body was demanding some well-deserved pampering. It was high time for my first authentic shower in this world! You see, being confined to a wheelchair didn''t lend itself to what I''d consider a ''real'' shower¡ªjust sitting there while water did most of the work simply wasn''t the same. So with barely-contained enthusiasm, I shucked off my clothes and practically vaulted into the shower stall. I cranked the heat up to borderline scalding levels, relishing the sensation of the near-blistering water coursing over my fatigued muscles. The water not only cleansed but also seemed to knead the tension right out of me. I luxuriated in the steaming cascade for well over half an hour. When I finally stepped out, my skin had taken on the flushed hue of a boiled lobster. ''Okay, maybe I overindulged just a smidgeon... but fuck it, I needed this! And I deserved it, too!'' I mused to myself as I donned fresh clothes and hustled back to the living room. A message from Gabriel had popped up on my interface, notifying me he was en route home. Time was of the essence; I had finishing touches to put in place to round off this big ''W'' of a day with the cherry on top! With a newfound sense of purpose, I began to set the stage for the ultimate surprise. First, I cleared the pathway from the entrance to the living room, ensuring there were no obstacles that could ruin the grand reveal. I pushed the tiny coffee table aside, creating an open space right in front of the couch where I''d make my "stand." Literally. My eyes darted to the kitchen table where I had placed Mr. Shori''s boxed gifts. ''Should I integrate those into the surprise?'' I pondered briefly before deciding against it. Today had its own triumphs; the incredible generosity of Mr. Shori could be its own revelation later on. Refocusing my energy on the living room, I deliberately settled myself into my wheelchair for what I hoped would be the final time. With my feet planted firmly on the ground, I positioned the chair at an angle that would give Gabriel a clear line of sight to me right from the door. I leaned slightly forward, my muscles taut and ready, poised for the act of standing up. My heart started to race as I went over the game plan in my head. I imagined Gabriel walking through the door, his eyes scanning the room and landing on me, sitting casually on the couch. But then, I''d push myself up, steady my legs, and stand. His face would shift from curiosity to disbelief and then, hopefully, to joy. I sat there, every muscle primed for action, every nerve tingling with anticipation. ''This is it, the moment of truth,'' I thought, my fingers fidgeting nervously on my lap.''I can¡¯t wait to see the look on his face when he realises I can walk now.'' As the minutes ticked by, I found myself running through the motions in my head, rehearsing my movements so they''d be as fluid as possible. ''No stumbles, no hesitations; this has to go perfectly,'' I silently urged myself. I felt like a coiled spring, my body poised to unspool in a spectacular display. This was going to be the cherry on top of an already extraordinary day, and I could hardly contain my excitement. Then, at last, the moment I''d been eagerly awaiting arrived. The sound of the biometric sensor beeping echoed through the room, followed closely by the distinct mechanical click of the door unlocking. It slid open with a soft whoosh, heralding Gabriel''s entrance. "Welcome home, Gabe!" I called out, my voice tinged with a hint of overzealous enthusiasm, as I sat strategically in the living room. My eyes locked onto the slowly opening door, ready for the revelation that was about to unfold. Just as I was revelling in the anticipation of Gabriel''s reaction to my miraculous feat, my plan shattered into a million fragmented pieces. Instead of the casual, nonchalant entrance I had expected, Gabriel stumbled into the apartment, clutching the right side of his abdomen with his right hand. The colour had drained from his face, and a dark, crimson stain spread across the fabric of his shirt. His other hand was leaving smears of blood on the nearby kitchen wall as he used it to steady himself. "Help," he managed to utter in my direction, his voice weak and tinged with desperation¡­ Chapter 18 - Emergency At that instant, my heart plummeted like a stone tossed into a dark abyss. The mood shifted from anticipation to urgency, as if a switch had been flipped. His voice reverberated in my ears, snapping me into immediate action. Forgetting the carefully rehearsed scene I''d planned, I bolted from my wheelchair, the miracle of my newfound mobility now meaningless in the face of Gabriel''s distress. My steps were swift but shaky as I rushed towards him, my mind racing through a mental list of emergency first-aid steps. "Gabriel, hold on," I stammered, my voice tinged with a mix of fear and resolve. Reaching him, I quickly assessed the situation; his grip was slipping on the kitchen wall, and his knees were buckling as if they could give out any moment. I manoeuvred myself under his arm, trying to stabilise him and take some of the weight off his failing legs, despite my own less-than-stellar strength. My hands felt the wet warmth of his blood, and I could see his face was contorted in a grimace of pain and concentration. "Just¡­ just hold on a second," I said, before leaning him gingerly against the wall as support, while I bolted back to the wheelchair and rolled it over to him. The brief instant of attempting to steady him was enough to know that I¡¯d never be able to get him to the nearby couch¡ªnot with my low Body Attribute. ¡°Sit down, Gabe,¡± I ordered, my voice regaining a semblance of authority as my Ego Attribute started working overtime and forcibly calming down my frantic thoughts in order to support my self-set goal of rescuing Gabriel. Gabe lowered himself onto the wheelchair with slow, shaky movements and groans of pain. The second he was fully seated, I immediately rolled the wheelchair over towards the coach with all the strength I could muster. As we made our way towards the couch, my mind was a torrent of emotion and strategy. What had happened? Who had done this to him? How could I keep him stable until we got professional medical help¡ªor more importantly, was there even any professional medical help available? My familiarity with the world of Neon Dragons had left me naively unprepared for the grim realities of civilian injuries. In the game, the player character was a walking medical marvel, armed with access to ripper docs, slicers, and a veritable smorgasbord of pharmaceutical miracles that could mend nearly any ailment. But here, as Sera, those luxuries were fantasies. I had no quick-dial to an underground doctor, no stash of high-grade medical nanobots. The idea of calling an ambulance, which might have seemed like a given¡ªalbeit an expensive one¡ªin another life, was complicated here. Ambulance services weren''t a simple dial away; they required a specific kind of health insurance that I wasn''t even certain we had, despite Valeria''s corpo job. It was a clear discrepancy between the game world and my own lived experience, and it left me grappling with a problem that had no easy answers. Regardless of these problems, however, as I lowered him onto the cushions of the couch and raced for the first-aid kit in the bathroom, one thing was glaringly obvious: I had to act, and fast. The gravity of the situation was overwhelming, yet strangely, I found a fragment of clarity in it: In that moment, our roles had abruptly reversed. Gabriel, the usually unflappable guardian, needed me. And though my heart was pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline, I was resolute¡ªI would not let him down. I frantically retrieved the synth-bandage spray can I had used for my own forehead wound just days earlier. Kneeling beside Gabriel, I took a closer look at his injury. A chillingly clean cut, several centimetres deep, stretched from his navel diagonally across his abdomen to his side. The wound was a ghastly sight and definitely intended to kill rather than to maim, underscoring the viciousness of the attack he had suffered. My hand trembled as I aimed the spray can, but I steadied it with effort. As I began administering the synthetic bandage to seal the gaping wound, a flurry of System notifications chimed in my mind, informing me of various Skill and experience gains. I dismissed them, uninterested and unfocused on anything but Gabriel''s well-being. Pressing the nozzle of the spray can, I coated the wound in a layer of the synth-bandage, watching as the material interacted with his skin, creating an instant adhesive seal. My mind raced, pondering the possibility of internal injuries, of organs that might have been damaged in the assault. But for now, the external wound was sealed, and that would have to suffice as a starting point¡ªI wasn¡¯t a doctor, after all. It was a grimly inadequate substitute for proper medical care, but it was the best I could do under the dire circumstances. Swiftly, I accessed my cerebral interface''s messaging function, bypassing all other distractions to send an urgent message to Oliver. The text read: [Gabriel is badly hurt. Do we have med-evac insurance? What medical professionals do we know?]. I deliberately kept the message brief and to the point, avoiding any extraneous details that might slow Oliver''s response to these critical questions. Time was of the essence, and clarity, not verbosity, was what was needed now. Fortunately, Oliver was as attentive and caring as a father as I''d always perceived him to be; his rapid response all but confirmed it. [No med-evac insurance. Slicer on the 26th floor: Dr. Maltrick. Deets are attached. Tell her Valeria will cover any and all expenses.] Wasting no time, and acutely aware that Gabriel was on the verge of losing consciousness due to blood loss and pain, I directed him towards the wheelchair. "Gabe, we''re going to see Dr. Maltrick right now. Get in the chair," I ordered. Gabriel, clearly disoriented yet sensing the urgency in my voice, managed to lift himself from the couch amid a symphony of pained moans and grunts. He then collapsed into the wheelchair, which emitted a disconcerting creak under his far more substantial weight¡ªespecially compared to my anorexic body. Summoning every ounce of strength left in my already overworked muscles¡ªstill sore from my long day at Mr. Shori''s stall¡ªI propelled the wheelchair out the apartment door and down the seemingly endless hallway toward the nearest elevator. As I navigated the corridor, my mind¡¯s cursor danced over the cerebral interface to fire off an urgent message to Dr. Maltrick, using the contact details Oliver had thoughtfully provided. [Gabriel Vildea, stab-wound in abdomen, approximately 3-4cm deep. Heavy blood loss; wound temporarily sealed with synth-bandage. Currently en route to your clinic via elevator. Valeria Vildea will cover all expenses.] I opted to forgo anonymizing my ID when sending the message. It acted both as a digital signature and a badge of authenticity, a subtle assurance that my urgent communique should be taken seriously¡ªgiven that my last name matched those mentioned in the emergency text. By the time we had made it only halfway to the elevator, I was drenched in sweat, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. But halting wasn''t an option¡ªnot when Gabriel''s life hung in the balance. I pushed onward, my ears straining to hear any sound from Gabriel, who had grown eerily silent. I could only hope that he had lost consciousness due to pain and blood loss, rather than something more ominous. Just when I thought I couldn''t go any further, a deep, concerned voice emanated from a few metres behind me. "Are you okay, little girl? Do you require assistance?" Without pausing to identify the speaker, words burst forth from my lips: "Yes! To the 26th floor, now! He''s dying!" In an instant, a pair of chromed arms manoeuvred around me and gently moved me aside. The stranger, built like a human mountain, began pushing the wheelchair at a velocity I couldn''t have hoped to achieve. "Dr. Maltrick, I assume?" the man''s gravelly voice inquired as he effortlessly propelled the wheelchair ahead of him. "Yes! He''s been notified, please hurry!" On the brink of both mental and physical collapse, I trudged behind them, gulping down air in desperate mouthfuls, as the imposing figure guided the wheelchair and its precious cargo into the elevator. As I stumbled into the elevator on unsteady legs, the towering stranger immediately reached for the display, selecting the 26th floor with a swift touch. His identity was a mystery to me, but in that critical moment, it was inconsequential. The only priority was Gabriel''s desperate need for medical attention. "Thank you," I rasped, my voice barely rising above a whisper. I found myself slumped on the elevator''s grimy floor, legs having betrayed me the moment I stepped inside. "Don''t mention it, little girl," the colossal man responded, his gaze shifting to inspect Gabriel''s condition. "Looks like he got sliced up pretty bad. Doesn''t strike me as the gang type though. Any clue what went down?" My lungs felt ablaze, each breath a monumental effort, leaving me incapable of forming words. I could only manage a weak shake of my head in response. ''After today, levelling up Body becomes priority number one. This is absolutely fucking absurd,'' I inwardly vowed, frustrated and unnerved by the woeful state of my physical capabilities and the potential catastrophe it would have caused had the giant man not showed up to help out. "Good news is, the assailant missed anything vital¡ªkidneys, liver¡ªthat sort of thing. If they''d hit those, I don''t think he''d still be breathing. Bad news? That''s still a deep, nasty cut. He won''t be up and about for a while," the hulking man elaborated, his eyes studying the severity of Gabriel''s wound. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ''Damn it, Gabe, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?'' I mused, the gravity of his condition settling in. ''Once he''s stable, I should really offer him the combat knife. Now that I''ve got [Sharpening] ready to go, I can always find a rock or other makeshift weapon if I have to. Gabriel, on the other hand, clearly needs a decent piece of self-defence gear from now on.'' After a torturous half-minute that felt more like an eternity, the elevator finally arrived on the 26th floor. Without missing a beat, the towering man manoeuvred the wheelchair, carrying my unconscious brother, down the corridor. I was hoping he was heading towards Dr. Maltrick''s clinic. Oliver had provided a map in his message, but in the chaos, I hadn''t had the time to integrate it with my cerebral interface''s map overlay. Fortunately, our colossal good Samaritan appeared to know precisely where Dr. Maltrick''s office was located. Struggling to keep up, and quite frankly failing miserably at it, I followed him through a maze of hallways until we reached a nondescript door. Above it hung a diminutive, handwritten sign that read "Maltrick." Just as the massive man raised one of his chromed hands to knock on the handle-less, slate-blue metallic door, it swung open abruptly from the inside. A woman, even smaller than I was, stepped out with brisk, determined steps. The person, who I assumed to be Dr. Maltrick at first glance, was an enigmatic figure, embodying an intriguing blend of contrasts. Standing at just 145 cm tall and appearing to be in her early 40s, she carried herself with the self-assured air of someone who had seen it all. Her behaviour, complexion and features gave me only a single thought about her: Latina. Her sidecut ponytail was not only a bold style choice but also an ever-changing spectacle, cycling through every colour of the rainbow. It immediately reminded me of the "cool" PC components that people went crazy for in my old world. With a mere wave of her hand, she shooed the behemoth of a man aside, quipping, "You didn''t mention bringing a gorilla, girl. That''ll cost extra." Without wasting another second, she approached Gabriel, her eyes quickly assessing his condition. "He''ll live," she declared. "Let''s bring him in. I''ll examine that cut and get him drugged up. And just so you know, if Valeria doesn''t come through with the payment, your ass is mine, girl." With surprising agility for her size, she manoeuvred Gabriel''s wheelchair into her clinic. Feeling a surge of gratitude for the mountainous man who''d helped us, I offered a quick, heartfelt "Thank you," before following the enigmatic Dr. Maltrick inside, the door closing behind us. As I stepped over the threshold, it was as if I had entered an otherworldly space, a twilight zone of medical practice. The small clinic was a strange blend of high-tech sophistication and dilapidated grime. Walls that seemed as if they''d been untouched by a paintbrush for decades were decked out with sleek, futuristic medical appliances that hummed quietly. Monitors displaying patient vitals were placed alongside rusty shelves filled with jars of unidentifiable substances. The floors were a patchwork of old tiles and more than a few questionable stains, but upon them sat devices that seemed like they could scan, analyse, and probably even rebuild a human from the cellular level¡ªI was likely exaggerating, but they really did look wildly futuristic and I had no idea what they could potentially do. The cramped space managed to feel both chaotic and orderly, as if it were teetering on the edge of collapse, held together only by the keen expertise of its enigmatic occupant. As I navigated through the labyrinthine interior, my eyes met an eclectic mix of hanging cables, neon tubing, and holographic displays casting ethereal glows in dark corners. Dr. Maltrick moved with a surprising agility through this maze of contradictions, her steps quick but calculated. She led us into one of the back rooms, which, while not exactly a clean room, exuded a slightly more sterile atmosphere than the rest of the establishment. Surgical tools neatly arranged next to gadgets that appeared to be more science fiction than medical instruments seemed to indicate this was where the serious work happened. And then, with a suddenness that left me bewildered, Dr. Maltrick effortlessly lifted Gabriel out of the wheelchair and onto what looked less like a doctor''s examination table and more like an autopsy platform, replete with chrome fittings and a myriad of built-in interfaces. Her petite form belied a surprising strength, as she handled Gabriel with the sort of ease that completely blindsided me. As she began connecting him to various monitors and devices, I realised that despite its paradoxical aesthetics, this place was where life and machinery danced a delicate tango. And for the moment, all that mattered was that Dr. Maltrick was leading that dance, with Gabriel''s life hanging in the balance. I took a moment to remind myself that Dr. Maltrick was a Slicer, not a Ripper-doc¡ªtwo vocations that, while both in the realm of underground medical expertise, were worlds apart in ethos and operation. Ripper-docs operated within a curious framework that resembled a guild or quasi-union. They adhered to a specific code of conduct, a labyrinth of subterranean rules and stipulations that, if flagrantly violated, could lead to abrupt and unsavoury ends¡ªthink closed-casket funerals with alarming speed, faster than they could dissect a low-tier scav jacked up on some Tier-6 chrome implants. Slicers, on the other hand, were more like medical renegades. They were once part of legitimate institutions¡ªgovernment healthcare facilities, corporate medical wings, or even military medical units. Their journeys had led them away from these credentialed halls for myriad reasons, spitting them out onto the grime-soaked streets of Neo Avalis. Unlike Ripper-docs, they operated without a rulebook, unshackled by any governing body. Their only constraints were the unwritten laws of the street, a vague social contract held in place by the threat of vengeance from friends or family. What Slicers lacked in formal oversight, they more than compensated for with a deeper well of medical knowledge, honed through years in accredited environments. However, this absence of a governing code made them a risky proposition. Nothing, in theory, prevented a Slicer from stripping you of your valuable chrome and leaving you for dead, save for the potential fallout from aggrieved associates. Slicers also catered to a more, shall we say, morally flexible clientele. Ripper-docs might rip out the chrome from a dead scav or two, considering those were the absolute scum of the earth, but steered clear of handling any higher-profile bodies unless you could produce legitimate salvage rights authorised by a fixer or a corporate entity. Slicers, however, operated on a purely transactional basis. They weren¡¯t finicky about the provenance of the body or the chrome¡ªpayment sufficed as a code of ethics. It was perhaps an inevitable byproduct of their previous lives, often immersed in cutthroat atmospheres where the sanctity of life was often weighed against spreadsheets or tactical objectives. "Ah, let''s take a look, shall we?" Dr. Maltrick mumbled, tearing through Gabriel''s shirt with a shocking ease that made it seem like Gabriel had been wearing nothing but wet tissues¡ªher strength was nothing short of ludicrous. Watching Dr. Maltrick swing into action was both relieving and mesmerising. With practised hands, she laid out an array of high-tech instruments on a tray next to her¡ªthe glint of surgical steel mixed with the ethereal glow of some neon-tinged tools and the giant auto-doc machine next to her. The tension that had knotted my muscles began to ease, unspooling into exhaustion as she deftly began to clean and assess Gabriel''s wound. Just as I felt my legs wobble and my vision blur from the day''s extreme exertions, I stumbled towards a chair in the corner of the room. The anxiety and fear that had gripped me were lifting, replaced by a bone-deep fatigue that made me feel as though I could pass out at any moment. As I sank into the chair, I told myself that this was an opportunity to learn. I had to pay attention; maybe observing Dr. Maltrick could give me some insights that would boost my own [First-Aid] Skill. I made a silent vow to prioritise my training in that area from now on, similarly to the Body Attribute one I had made just minutes before. "Don''t you fall over now, girl," Dr. Maltrick snapped, not missing a beat as she worked. "I don''t charge enough to babysit your ass as well, you hear me? Get yourself a glass of water or some shit, but don''t dirty up my operating room with your drool from passing out or whatever." Her words jarred me back to the present. I nodded weakly, grateful for the warning but too drained to muster a verbal response. She was right; this was neither the time nor the place for me to become another problem she had to solve. I steadied myself, took a deep breath, and focused on Dr. Maltrick''s precise movements, determined to learn as much as I could while also fighting off the overwhelming urge to succumb to my fatigue.
An hour that felt like yet another eternity later, Dr. Maltrick finished her meticulous work on Gabriel''s wound, her hands moving with the precision of a master. She''d double-checked for internal issues, applying nano-sutures where necessary, and finally sealed the outer cut with surgical sutures that looked almost like a zipper across the wound. "He''ll be on his feet in a few days, but expect that gash to throb for a while," she warned, her voice laced with a professional detachment. "Keep the wound clean; that''s non-negotiable. I''ll toss in a bottle of Antiflam for daily use and a Dolo-R inhaler for the pain spikes. You''re capable of hauling him back home yourself, aren''t you?" I found myself nodding, my focus on her surgical expertise over the past hour had been so absorbing that it helped me recover some of my spent energy. "Excellent. Valeria''s account will get the invoice," Dr. Maltrick stated, as she pointed her gloved index finger, still adorned with the medical gauntlet linked to the auto-doc, directly at me. The auto-doc responded immediately, its scalpel extending with a menacing whirr towards me, a theatrical touch I was almost certain she''d done on purpose. "She''ll handle it, I promise you," I replied, making an effort to inject my voice with a confidence I was far from feeling. She laughed a sardonic laugh. "Promises, promises. If those were currency, I''d be ruling over Neo Avalis, not stitching up wayward kids in a hole like this." With that, she smoothly disengaged the medical gauntlet, stowing it away before deftly manoeuvring Gabriel back into the wheelchair with a surprising show of strength. "Now, get the fuck out. And do try to let the door hit you on your way," she dismissed, her eyes already scanning her cluttered desk for the next project. "And remember, if you find yourself needing more medical aid in the future, bring creds. I don''t work for gratitude or sob stories."
After heeding most of Dr. Maltrick''s advice¡ªmercifully avoiding the door''s swing on my way out¡ªI hurriedly made my way back to the elevator bank. However, upon arriving, a realisation hit me like a ton of bricks: I had no clue how to navigate back to our floor. With Gabriel still unconscious and not a soul around to guide me, my best option was to reach out to Oliver again. I quickly shot him a message, updating him on Gabriel''s condition and pleading for directions to our home floor. Moments later, my cerebral interface buzzed with Oliver''s reply. [Sera, you''re incredible! You just saved your brother''s life! Take a moment to feel proud, you''ve earned it. We''ll celebrate with your favourite food tonight, how''s that sound? As for getting back, look for the restricted elevators. They''re near the standard ones but set apart, usually around a corner. You''ll recognize them by their peculiar black doors¡ªI''ve attached a photo for reference. Take care of Gabriel. Love you. Can''t wait to see you both! I''ll be home soon.] The message instantly lifted my spirits; Oliver''s encouragement was exactly the boost I needed. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated, I set out to locate the mysterious black doors that served as my key back home. Navigating through the dimly lit corridors, I soon found the elusive black double-doors that Oliver had described. I stood there for a moment, incredulous. ''How did I overlook these? Probably because "strange, black double-doors" doesn¡¯t exactly scream "elevator,"'' I mused to myself. A swell of irritation rose within me, thinking back on my earlier ordeal. ''Seriously, would a sign kill them? How is anyone supposed to find this bullshit design of an entrance without having a nervous breakdown first?''
The journey back to our apartment was, to my immense relief, both swift and uneventful. The restricted elevator was blissfully empty, and its speed was nothing short of miraculous. ''I¡¯m definitely going to enjoy using the hell out of this one exclusively from now on,'' I thought. Getting Gabriel back onto our worn-out couch was its own Herculean feat, taking ten gruelling minutes of shifting, lifting, and readjusting. Exhausted, I practically collapsed into the nearby wheelchair, which became my makeshift throne as I caught my breath. "God, Gabriel, why''d you have to go and get yourself stabbed?" I huffed out, not genuinely angry, more exasperated than anything else. It''s not like he¡¯d chosen to get impaled just to make my life difficult. Plus, given how disoriented he was earlier, I doubted he¡¯d remember anything about this ordeal once he regained consciousness. My plans for a delightful surprise were still very much intact. Moreover, Oliver would be home soon, a fact that lightened my spirits. I couldn¡¯t help but think to myself, ''Considering the turmoil my earlier messages must''ve caused him, he could probably use some good news. Maybe even a downright miraculous one¡­?'' Chapter 19 - Wake-Up Call Slumped into the wheelchair¡ªa piece of furniture I had optimistically thought would be a relic of my past by now¡ªI took a moment to recover from the day''s overwhelming stress and fatigue. It dawned on me that this was as good a time as any to finally tackle the heap of System Notifications I''d been neglecting throughout the last tumultuous hours. Opening up the G.E.M.A interface, I began to scroll through the notifications, grateful to find they had been conveniently condensed into a more digestible format. ''Thank you, System, for making my life just a little bit easier right now,'' I thought, bracing myself for whatever news lay ahead.
[System]: 200xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: [Slicing] Skill unlocked. [System]: 300xp gained for [Slicing] Skill.
My eyebrows arched in a combination of surprise and curiosity as I read the last couple of lines, and I found myself murmuring a puzzled, "Huh?" It was becoming a recurring theme¡ªyet another Skill that hadn''t existed in the world of Neon Dragons had now made its appearance in my System. Frankly, I was growing accustomed to these intriguing twists, and they were almost always a welcome addition. Given that Neon Dragons lacked any hard cap on the number of Perk Trees, Skills, or Abilities one could accrue, discovering new Skills and expanding my repertoire never seemed like a downside. The Skill in question was [Slicing], and considering the context in which it had been awarded¡ªduring my recent high-stakes experience with Dr. Maltrick¡ªI could make an educated guess on what it might entail. It likely governed one''s aptitude for being a slicer, an amalgamation of a surgical maestro, an underground physician, and perhaps even a cyberware specialist of sorts. ''I''ll need to take a look at the available Perks to truly grasp what this [Slicing] Skill entails, I think,'' I pondered. ''Slicers engage in a wide range of activities, so it''s tough to pinpoint the exact focus of the Skill. There¡¯s already a [Surgeon] Skill in Neon Dragons, so it would be strange to double-up with this one, no¡­? Could it be deliberately non-specific? Designed to be a sort of catch-all, gap-filler for a person''s particular skill set?'' At the same time, I really couldn''t shake the nagging feeling that I was maybe reading too much into it. Nothing I''d encountered thus far indicated that this System was engineered to facilitate optimal skill builds or anything along those lines. Perhaps the Skill was simply a pragmatic reflection of a slicer''s broad spectrum of expertise? Unless I had a direct talk with the enigmatic being, or program, behind this convoluted System¡ªa meeting I was in no rush to arrange, especially given my current, less-than-stellar Attributes and Skills¡ªI was left to speculation and guesswork. Another problem quickly reared its head concerning the [Slicer] Skill as well: Just how the fuck was I supposed to accrue experience for it? Opening my own makeshift slicer clinic was laughably out of the question. I had zero hands-on experience in any facet of slicing¡ªbe it surgery, emergency medical intervention, or cyberware modifications. That left me with the sole option of seeking an apprenticeship under an experienced slicer. This presented its own set of hurdles, however. Much like my culinary tutelage under Mr. Shori for my [Cooking] Skill, I''d need to find a mentor willing to take me under their wing. The obvious issue? Slicers were notoriously untrusting individuals, likely a survival trait stemming from their past life experiences and probably a contributing factor to their unconventional career choice in the first place. For the time being, the [Slicer] Skill remained a dead entry in my skill set. While it might find its moment to shine in the future, I had more pressing concerns demanding my immediate attention. First and foremost, my Body Attribute and [First-Aid] Skill had revealed themselves to be woefully inadequate for even the most basic level of survival. It was a sobering realisation: I hadn''t been the one under attack, yet I nearly collapsed simply from the strain of getting Gabriel to a slicer. My physical capabilities, as they stood, were completely and utterly unacceptable. Moreover, if my [First-Aid] Skill had been better honed, there''s a high likelihood I could''ve patched Gabriel up myself, rendering a trip to Dr. Maltrick''s clinic entirely unnecessary. With these reflections in mind, I sketched out my immediate priorities: Grind out my Body Attribute to at least Level 3, maybe even 4 or 5 and refine my [First-Aid] Skill to become more self-sufficient. Getting the first Perk for [First-Aid] was going to be my imminent goal for now. Additionally, continue apprenticing under Mr. Shori to work on enhancing my Reflex Attribute and improving my [Knives] and [Cooking] Skills. And lastly, earn and stash away some credits to gradually repay Gabriel for all he''s done for me. Having sifted through all the system notifications and solidified my game plan for the coming days, I turned my attention to domestic damage control. Gabriel''s journey through our living room had been something of a blood-soaked odyssey, leaving a grim trail in his wake. To spare Oliver the shock of a crime-scene-like homecoming, I knew I had to get things cleaned up, and pronto. Digging out a motley assortment of cleaning supplies from the cabinet beneath our kitchen sink, I set to work. I tackled the gruesome mural Gabriel had inadvertently painted on the kitchen wall, and then took on the ridiculously difficult task of trying to lift blood stains from our carpet¡ªa carpet which, by the way, was probably never going to be the same. Not that it had been particularly clean before, quite the opposite, but getting blood stains out of carpets was notoriously difficult from what I remembered from my last life. Oddly enough, as I was elbow-deep in my sanitising endeavours, a System Notification chimed in my head. ''Could this actually be contributing to my Body level? I am getting kinda sweaty here¡­'' I mused to myself, hopeful but sceptical. I paused to check the notification, eyes scanning the text in my cerebral interface.
[System]: [Maid] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Maid] Skill.
A beat of dumbfounded silence hung in the air before I finally erupted, "You''ve got to be absolutely fucking with me right now, right?" The words slipped out, laced with an incredulity I couldn''t contain. ''Is this for real? A [Maid] Skill? What''s next, a [Janitor] or [Dishwasher] Skill? Why the fuck does this even exist in the first place?'' My mind was spinning with exasperation at the absurdity of it all. ''Is there some cosmic game-master out there eavesdropping on my thoughts, and did they introduce this ludicrous [Maid] Skill just to taunt me? Hey, if you''re listening, System-God, or whatever, how about bestowing some extra Body experience points my way? I could use a little less fragility right about now,'' I mused internally. Of course, I didn''t really buy into the notion that some celestial overseer was pulling strings based on my whims, but hey, there''s no harm in tossing a plea into the cosmic suggestion box, right? Shaking off the absurdity, I refocused on my cleaning crusade. Just as I was starting to get into a rhythm, another System Notification intruded upon my thoughts.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
Once again, I found myself staring, bewildered, at the notification. ''Hold up, what? God? Is that you?'' It was then that my Ego Attribute seemed to boot up, injecting a sense of rational calm into my frazzled psyche. ''No, Sera. There¡¯s clearly no divine intervention here. The [Maid] Skill probably just operates under the Body Attribute, and you naturally accumulated some experience points while cleaning. Get your shit together, for fuck sake¡ªor should I say, for your own sake.'' Grumbling to myself, having to chide my own stupid brain for making dumbass assumptions based on absolutely nothing¡ªlikely a consequence of my extreme exhaustion, if I had to name a culprit¡ªI continued my cleaning duties for a while longer.
Roughly half an hour later, I found myself bathed in sweat yet again, and the apartment had taken on a new olfactory identity: A heady cocktail of industrial-strength cleaning chemicals and residual, dissolved blood. To put it bluntly, the place was fucking rank. I''d scoured our cabinets for some air freshener, but to no avail. The apartment was woefully understocked in the fragrance department, and I wasn''t about to venture out in my current state to rectify that oversight. On the bright side, my cleaning marathon had contributed a small but welcome chunk of experience to my Body Attribute. In the process, I also discovered that [Maid] was a hybrid-Skill.
[System]: 400xp gained for [Maid] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Yes, it seemed that the life of a [Maid] involved not just a measure of tremendous physical stamina but also some kind of intuitive knack for¡ªwhat? Sensing dirt''s favourite hiding spots? I wasn''t entirely clear on what the System was implying, but it did provide me with a straightforward avenue for grinding both my Body and Intuition Attributes in the future. And so, with a begrudging nod, I made my peace with the existence of the [Maid] Skill for now, filing it under "useful absurdities." The last act on my docket for the day¡ªgiven the physical and mental toll the day''s events had taken on me¡ªwas to prepare my [First-Aid] Skill grind for the coming days. Setting it up was straightforward enough, especially since I had already deduced that [First-Aid] was more concerned with effective wound treatment rather than the cause of said wounds. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I retreated to the bathroom and, with grim determination, made several incisions on my inner thigh using my combat knife. After that, I meticulously cleaned each gash before applying a generous coating of synth-spray bandage. My logic was simple: If a single wound could generate a few hundred experience points, then multiple wounds should provide a proportional boost, right? "Oh right, I''ve got to remind Oliver we''re running low on synth-spray," I mumbled to myself as I exited the bathroom. The bottle was nearly depleted, largely due to the hefty amount I''d used earlier on Gabriel. I had eased myself back into the wheelchair and kept a watchful eye on Gabriel, who was fast asleep on the couch. Gabriel had roused briefly during Dr. Maltrick''s medical procedures, prompting her to administer a pretty potent anaesthetic to ensure she could complete her work undisturbed. According to her, it was likely to keep him unconscious for the remainder of the day and probably a good chunk of the next. Her specific, and deeply concerning, phrasing still rang in my ears: "He''ll be out like a dead kitten¡¯s left paw." I hadn¡¯t really understood what the fuck that meant, or why the left paw was specifically mentioned, but I also really hadn¡¯t wanted to think about dead kittens either way, so I had simply accepted it as a strange manner of speech. I ultimately found it hard to believe that Dr. Maltrick would administer anything to Gabriel that could harm him. For all her quirks and rude manners, she seemed highly competent and keen on maintaining a solid professional relationship with Valeria in particular. The subject of Valeria¡ªwho was technically my mother now¡ªfascinated me immensely.She was like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that I couldn''t fit together no matter how hard I tried. What was the connection between her and Dr. Maltrick? Why did the doctor agree to an emergency appointment without demanding extra credentials? What was the nature of Valeria''s corporate job? Why was her office a no-go zone for the rest of the family? These questions had continued to swirl around in my mind since the first day, forming an enigma that I couldn''t untangle. Despite living under the same roof, Valeria remained a complete mystery to me. I knew I''d have to unearth at least some answers to these nagging questions. Not just to satisfy my curiosity, but to gauge whether she presented any kind of threat to my well-being. While I had managed to win her begrudging approval during our first family dinner, I had no illusions about her corporate persona allowing me to loaf around the apartment indefinitely. Even the original Sera, who seemed to have embodied the rebellious teenage spirit, had certain responsibilities that Valeria expected her to fulfil¡ªand more surprisingly, had actually done so, despite the whole rebellious period. So, understanding Valeria''s expectations of me would be crucial. It was the only way to secure my footing in her household, at least for the foreseeable future. Regrettably, that investigative quest would have to be put on hold until Valeria decided we were worthy enough for her to make another appearance. As much as I could theorise and speculate, getting to the heart of the matter would require direct interaction with the woman herself. Sure, I planned to nudge Oliver and Gabriel for any insights they might have, but I wasn''t holding my breath for any groundbreaking revelations¡ªand that wasn¡¯t just because my lung capacity was like that of a newborn¡¯s at the moment.
Still in the process of recovery, I was perched in my wheelchair when the familiar beep of the front door''s biometric lock sounded, followed by the mechanical clunk of it unlocking. ''It''s showtime!'' I mentally psyched myself up, bracing for Oliver''s entrance. I was silently praying that he wouldn''t come through that door oozing blood like Gabriel. I desperately needed something to chalk up in the win column for the day, to make up for the messed up situation with Gabriel. To my immense relief, the door swung open with its customary creak, and Oliver tiptoed into the apartment as if fearing he''d disturb something¡ªor rather, someone. His gaze locked onto me almost instantaneously. I had strategically positioned myself dead-centre in the living room, squarely facing the door¡ªjust as I had when awaiting Gabriel''s dramatic entrance. Oliver''s face instantly morphed from an expression of acute concern to a radiant smile, and I couldn''t have been more grateful for that small yet significant victory. "Hey, Oliver, welcome back! Gabriel''s sprawled on the couch, knocked out cold. Dr. Maltrick administered something pretty potent to keep him in la-la land for a good while, according to her. So, how was the daily grind?" I greeted him warmly, subtly stalling for just the right moment to pull back the curtain on my well-prepared grand reveal. The smile that had overtaken Oliver''s worried expression seemed to lighten the room. He stepped further inside, setting down his bag and shrugging off his coat. "What happened to Gabriel?" His eyes shifted from me to his unconscious son on the couch, concerned etching lines back onto his forehead. "To be honest, I didn''t have a chance to ask him. He was in bad shape when he got here. Stab wounds, a large cut across his abdomen, and some heavy bruising. I had to call Dr. Maltrick ASAP," I said candidly. I figured he''d piece together what likely happened soon enough, so there was no point in sugarcoating it. His eyes widened, and for the first time since I''d known him, I saw something that looked like genuine anger flash across his face. Then he took a deep breath, and just like that, he was composed again. "You did a really good job looking after your big brother, Sera," he said, his voice tinged with relief as he briefly walked over to take a closer look at Gabriel. Satisfied that his son was indeed breathing and safe for the moment, Oliver made his way toward the kitchen. "Work was as hectic as usual. Those issues I mentioned last time we spoke about my job haven''t been fully resolved, but we''re making progress, slowly but surely," he said, unzipping the bag he''d brought with him. Seizing the moment, I said, "Let me help you with that," and set my plan into motion. As Oliver''s back was turned to me, focused on unpacking the array of groceries and household items from his bag, I quietly pressed the brakes off the wheelchair. My fingers gently clenched the armrests for a moment before I lifted myself up. Taking a silent breath, I stood and began walking toward the kitchen, each step feeling like a victory. I joined Oliver at the counter, reaching for one of the food boxes he had brought and placing it neatly in its designated spot. We moved in a sort of choreographed domesticity, the rhythm of putting things away adding a layer of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic day. "That smells good," Oliver commented as his eyes caught the sight of the food boxes from Mr. Shori''s Stall, neatly stacked on the dining table. "Where did those come from?" "Got them earlier today," I answered nonchalantly, stacking a box of tissues next to its fellows. His eyes widened, a sudden surge of concern washing over his face. "You left the apartment? When? Do you know how dangerous that is?" Feeling a bit dumbfounded that he was looking directly at me¡ªstanding next to him, no less¡ªbut not really grasping the full picture, I quipped, "Well, I had the urge to stretch my legs a bit, y''know?" For a second, confusion furrowed his brow; then, like a lightbulb flickering on, realisation dawned on his face. His eyes dropped to my legs and then shot back up to meet my gaze. "Your legs¡­ You''re standing! You''re actually standing and walking, Sera!" That''s right, the reality of the moment finally settled in for the both of us. Oliver''s eyes continued to oscillate between disbelief and sheer joy, almost as if he was afraid that any sudden movement would dispel the reality before him. He approached me cautiously, stepping gingerly as if worried that a faster pace might make me crumble to the floor. "Sera, how¡ª? When¡ª? You''re walking, but how?!" His words tumbled out in fragments, a jumbled mix of emotion and confusion. Feeling quite pleased that my reveal had the impact I was aiming for, I couldn''t help but offer a quip. "Well, when Gabriel came home like that, somebody had to ''step-up,'' y''know?" He looked at me blankly for a moment before letting out a groan. "You''re not helping me here, Sera" His concern shifted gears as he drew closer, his voice tinged with that overbearing-dad quality I''d rarely witnessed. "Are you okay, though? Don''t push yourself too hard. The doctors said it''d be months before¡ª" I interrupted, laying out the events of the day to put his mind at ease. "I''ve been cautious, Dad. I went down to the 16th Floor earlier, met a vendor named Mr. Shori. Got some food, took in some fresh air¡ªwell, as fresh as mega building air can be, I guess. I''ve planned it as a part of my daily routine to acclimate myself back into the real world, bit by bit." His eyes scanned my face, as if searching for any sign of strain or discomfort, before finally letting out a sigh of relief. "Alright, just promise me you''ll be careful, okay? We''ve had enough shocks for one day." "I will, I promise. I''ll keep an eye on Gabriel while I''m at home; make sure he''s okay. " I replied earnestly. Oliver smiled, his initial disbelief melting into a warmth that filled the room. "Thank you, Sera. For now, let''s put away this stuff. And then maybe, we can both sit down. I can tell that we definitely both need it." As we resumed our kitchen duties, the tension of the day seemed to dissolve, leaving in its wake a new, comfortable and unspoken bond between the two of us¡ªsomething I hadn¡¯t intended with my little reveal, but gladly took as a bonus without complaint.
Roughly an hour later, Oliver and I found ourselves seated at the dinner table, a rare moment of calm in a day that had been anything but. Gabriel was still deep in his drug-induced slumber, courtesy of Dr. Maltrick''s potent pharmaceuticals, rendering it a father-daughter evening for the first time in what felt like forever¡ªactually, it quite literally was the first time ever, unless we counted the drive home from the hospital. In a sentimental gesture, Oliver had procured original Sera¡¯s favourite dish as a nod to my role in potentially saving Gabriel''s life earlier. What graced our table were peculiar roasted meatballs, each encased in an enigmatic, crunchy shell and generously smothered with a complex sauce that managed to be both sweet and savoury, tinted a rich hue of red-brown. Summoning the will to overlook the questionable origins of both the meat and the distinctive crunchy breading, I took a hesitant bite. I was immediately rewarded; the flavour was astonishingly good. It seemed original Sera¡¯s palate hadn''t diverged much from mine¡ªthese meatballs were downright delicious. As I savoured each ball, I found myself mentally reciting a mantra to maintain my culinary equilibrium. ''You''ll have to adapt to this cyberpunk food sooner or later, Sera. Why not start with something genuinely tasty? Forget the absence of traditional agriculture for the breading or the lack of farm-raised livestock for the meat. Just focus on the flavour; the rest is inconsequential.'' And so, fortified by this mental pep talk and focusing hard on not thinking about it too much, I gleefully continued to devour the crunchy, enigmatic meatballs. As I immersed myself in the exotic yet comforting flavours of the meatballs, I couldn''t help but notice Oliver¡¯s pensive demeanour. His eyes oscillated between me and the sleeping form of Gabriel sprawled out on the couch, lost in some medicated dreamscape. The emotional weight of the day was written all over his face, etched into each line and furrow¡ªsomething I could intimately understand. The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, with neither of us feeling particularly talkative. Conversation was sparse; it was as if words would cheapen the shared relief we felt. We were both spent, quietly thankful that the day had ended on a relatively positive note, considering its chaotic nature. Once the dinner was over, Oliver took the lead in clearing the table, while I suggested we use the wheelchair to move the still-unconscious Gabriel into his bed. Oliver nodded appreciatively at the idea and carefully transferred his son from the couch, situating him comfortably in the wheelchair before wheeling him to the shared room that Gabriel and I occupied. After ensuring Gabriel was safely ensconced in his bed, Oliver stepped out, leaving me alone¡ªsave for the soft snoring of my still-unaware brother. Seated there in the quietude, I took a few moments to think about the following day. Today had served as an urgent wake-up call, a jarring reminder that my foremost priorities needed to be survival and acclimation to this unfamiliar world. I couldn''t afford the luxury of existential musings or sentimental journeys down memory lane; not when there were vital skills to master and an understanding of this new environment to gain. ''Putting nightly [Meditation] grinding and SPG-shard usage on hold seems like the best course of action for now. I need to capitalise on the Bonus XP from the Rest-Function to expedite my Body Attribute''s growth. That''s non-negotiable. Every scrap of that Bonus XP will funnel directly into boosting my Body stats while I level up the rest organically,'' I firmly decided, my thoughts coalescing into a mental checklist of essential tasks and goals. ''Upon waking, the first item on the agenda will be some rudimentary body-weight exercises, preceded by an assessment of my [First-Aid] grind. Push-ups, squats, and perhaps a few lunges should offer a satisfactory ROI on stamina without overtaxing me. I don¡¯t want to overreach, particularly since I¡¯m planning to incorporate some corridor-running to get a jumpstart on unlocking [Athletics]. Maybe even [Acrobatics]... Well, that¡¯s likely a pursuit for when my Body attribute reaches level 2 or higher. Any premature vaulting or leaping could snap my frail little limbs like twigs at this stage,'' I mentally strategized, cautiously setting boundaries. Pleased with this foundational plan, I shifted my thoughts toward mapping out the rest of the day, aiming to establish a sustainable, effective routine. After all, the beauty of grinding often lay in the repetitiveness of routines. ''Revisiting Mr. Shori''s stall is a no-brainer, really. The sheer volume of experience points on the table is too significant to overlook. Plus, I genuinely enjoyed my time there today. I can grind out some [Knives], [Cooking], Reflex, Body, Intuition and maybe even, as much as I hate to remember that it exists, [Maid] experience as well. All while pocketing some credits and enjoying genuinely tasty food. It''s a veritable goldmine of a grind spot; neglecting it would be straight up stupid,'' I concluded, the prospect already ingraining itself as a non-negotiable part of my soon-to-be daily regimen. ''Last but not least, upon returning home, I''ll have to gauge my physical state. If I''m utterly spent, then some [Programming] with the SGP-shard would be a productive wind-down. Otherwise, it''s back to pounding the pavement and tackling more body-weight exercises until I''ve wrung every last drop out of my stamina. And let¡¯s not forget: Maintaining a strict bedtime is non-negotiable. I need a full eight-hour window for the Rest Function to maximise that delicious, delicious Bonus XP. No late-night shenanigans, Sera¡ªyou''re on the clock!'' I resolved, mentally setting rules and reining in any potential impulses for nocturnal distractions. Having finalised my mental game plan for the day ahead, it felt like the stage was set for an epic training montage. I could almost hear the iconic strains of "Eye of the Tiger" echoing in the furthest corners of my consciousness. With a sense of dramatic flair, I activated the Rest Function and meticulously entered a full eight hours¡ªdown to the second. After mentally double-checking and confirming the time, I braced myself before confirming the input. The real grind was about to begin... Chapter 20 - New Routine My eyes fluttered open immediately, sending me into the usual state of utter confusion for a brief moment. ¡®Yep, that¡¯s never gonna go away,¡¯ I quietly confirmed to myself, as the residual effects of the Rest Function rapidly wore off.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
Having confirmed the successful acquisition of the very valuable Bonus XP, I got myself ready for the day with a nice, hot and steamy shower.
I made a quick detour to check on Gabriel, who was still serenely snoring away, before retreating into the bathroom, first-aid supplies and the day''s clothes in tow. However, as I assessed the condition of my wounds, it hit me¡ªmy carefully crafted plans had a glaring flaw. "Ah, damn it," I muttered to myself, contemplating the quandary I found myself in. The wounds had completely vanished, thanks to the Rest Function''s mysterious healing abilities. On one hand, the Rest Function was crucial for amassing Bonus XP, allowing me to rapidly elevate my Body Attribute. But on the other, resting for longer than approximately four to five hours would negate all the prep work I had done for grinding my [First-Aid] Skill. Caught in this paradox, I realised I didn''t have a clean solution at the moment. There might have been other avenues to gain Bonus XP in Neon Dragons, but those remained securely locked away from my current reach. ¡®For now, I suppose [First-Aid] will take a backseat,¡¯ I concluded. ¡®I''ll pour my energy into fortifying my Body Attribute. Once that''s secure, I''ll use the nighttime hours for [Programming] and [Meditation], gradually working up my [First-Aid] skillset.¡¯ Resigned but resolute, I donned my selected attire for the day and neatly stowed away the now-redundant first-aid supplies, before heading towards the living room. Evidently, Oliver had already vacated the apartment, a common practice he seemed to maintain well before either Gabriel or I stirred from sleep. "Alright, let''s kickstart this Body grind," I mumbled, making a beeline for a specific section of carpet I had diligently cleaned the previous day during my bout of vigorous cleaning. Push-ups, sit-ups, and similar exercises were not something I was willing to do on a floor marred by grime and stains. Since I was already on a cleaning spree to erase the remnants of Gabriel''s bloody mishap, I''d extended my efforts to sanitise a small square of carpet designated for my impending grind sessions. Admittedly, I felt a ripple of pride at my foresight¡ªa small triumph, but meaningful nonetheless. I positioned myself on the carpet, still speckled with ingrained dirt but significantly cleaner than the surrounding area, bracing for my inaugural set of push-ups in this unfamiliar body. My muscles were woefully atrophied, but that was as much an issue as it was a workaround. Being remarkably weak also meant I was remarkably light, making me optimistic that I could manage at least a handful of push-ups. All things considered, my physical weaknesses were somewhat proportional to my strengths, albeit scant as they were. Having mentally configured the Bonus XP to funnel exclusively into my Body Attribute¡ªjust in case a [Push-Up] Skill or something similar existed¡ªI initiated my very first push-up. As I strained to lift myself back to the starting position, letting out an involuntary grunt, I realised the exertion required was more challenging than I had initially anticipated. Right on cue, a cascade of System Notifications chimed in my consciousness.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 500xp. [System]: Body Attribute has reached 2.
Almost instantaneously, I felt the G.E.M.A System go to work, overhauling my frail physique. It was an odd, tingling sensation that surged through me, like electricity coursing through circuitry, yet profoundly organic. My atrophied muscles began to fill out, redefining themselves in real-time. The transformation was far from dramatic; I was still thin, but no longer emaciated to the point of anorexia. Weak, but noticeably less so than just moments ago. I became acutely aware of subtle differences in how my body functioned. Breathing felt smoother, as if my lungs had just received a tune-up, similar to how it had felt easier to breathe when I went from 0 to 1. The air flowed effortlessly through my nostrils and filled my lungs more completely. My movements, too, were more fluid. As I lifted my arms and took a step, it felt like my joints had been lubricated and my tendons fortified. Everything was just a touch more responsive, slightly more agile. Even my posture seemed to automatically adjust itself to a more upright alignment, without the hunched discomfort I was accustomed to. I flexed my fingers, intrigued by the newfound strength I felt in even that simple gesture. It was as though the system had recalibrated the hardware of my body, optimising it for better performance. It was invigorating, like shedding a layer of physical inhibition I had struggled with for years. I couldn''t help but marvel once again at the potent and immediate effects of just a single point increase in my Body Attribute¡ªbecause this was only the beginning. Revitalised by the startling yet welcome transformation in my physique, I eagerly dropped back down to the slightly grimy carpet to resume my morning exercises. Mindful not to push myself to the point of exhaustion¡ªI had grand plans to unlock [Athletics] later in the day¡ªI sank into the preparatory stance for another set of push-ups. The shift in my capabilities was nothing short of astonishing. Mere moments before, a single push-up had left me panting and grimacing; now, I effortlessly executed over a dozen, only feeling the burn towards the end. ''This System is absolutely ridiculous,'' I mused during one of my short rest periods, taking advantage of the time to catch my breath. I glanced at the digital clock I had set up to manage my regimen. Another half-hour remained before I would transition from my bodyweight exercises to my quest to unlock the [Athletics] Skill. The excitement buzzed within me; not only would pursuing [Athletics] furnish me with a new Skill and capabilities, but it would also continue to contribute to my burgeoning Body Attribute. In that contemplative pause, I couldn''t help but marvel at the downright exponential rate of progress the System allowed. I felt like I was living with a literal cheat code, and I was more than ready to exploit it to its fullest extent.
Half an hour later, when the alarm in my cerebral interface rang, I was drenched in sweat. I still felt fairly alright, having kept to my ¡°don¡¯t work to exhaustion¡± rule. The latter half of the exercises had been a bit more light as a result, but that was preferable than to lose out on getting to unlock my [Athletics] Skill. With the first part of the exercises for the day complete, I quickly pulled up the notifications on my way to the apartment¡¯s door.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 400xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 200xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 100xp. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 0xp.
A grin stretched across my face involuntarily, spurred by the satisfying data I gleaned from the results of my morning exertions. ''So, a half-hour workout at this intensity rakes in about 500 XP, not even considering the Bonus XP. Crunching the numbers, Level 2 to Level 3 would require a total of 2,000 XP. Sans Bonus XP, I''m looking at approximately four days. But if I throw that sweet Bonus XP into the mix, Body Level 3 could be mine by this time tomorrow! And that''s without factoring in any XP I''d rake in from grinding [Athletics] or from my time at Mr. Shori''s stall,'' I mused, an electric thrill of anticipation tingling through me. I also took a moment to appreciate the absence of superfluous Skills like [Push-Up], [Sit-Up], or [Squatting]. As much as I was keen on collecting various Skills, I was relieved to discover that not every physical action warranted its own specialised Skill. The constant bombardment of experience notifications for every minor action would undoubtedly become overwhelming, cluttering my focus and complicating my day-to-day activities. Furthermore, I couldn''t ignore my long standing habit of attempting to min/max my build in virtually every game I''d ever played. If this System were to inundate me with an overwhelming variety of Skills, I knew I''d be powerless to resist the urge to max them all out. That endeavour could syphon off months or even years of focused effort, depending on the amount of Skills I were to unearth, and that''s operating under the assumption that these Skills even had a max level in this unfamiliar world. My experience with Neon Dragons taught me that hard caps were generally not a thing, further fueling the potential for a never-ending grind. Exiting the apartment and listening to the unmistakable beep of the biometric scanner locking the door behind me, I surveyed the expansive hallway before me. It was an odd feeling, considering the notion of running laps indoors¡ªsomething that would have been absurd in the more confined structures of my past life. Here, in this colossal mega-building, the corridors stretched seemingly without end, a vast expanse of identical doors and sterile walls. The rarity of encountering the same door twice substantially diminished the likelihood of drawing undue attention or annoying anyone with my exercise routine. At the moment, the hallway was its typical self¡ªmostly deserted. The few people who were around moved with purpose, their eyes fixed straight ahead, uninterested in what anyone else was doing. All in all, it felt like a quiet, albeit somewhat impersonal, backdrop to my upcoming [Athletics] grind. One that I was thoroughly looking forward to. Kicking off with a cautious jog¡ªI hadn''t moved faster than a clumsy shuffle in this body until now¡ªI felt my muscles and bones subtly readjust. It was as if my body instinctively remembered the biomechanics of running, each step correcting my posture and alignment to prevent any awkward tumbles. The initial steps may have been a tad graceless, but I rapidly settled into a comfortable rhythm, setting the pace for my first bout of endurance training. And sure enough, the moment I''d been eagerly awaiting didn''t keep me in suspense for long. After just five minutes of leisurely jogging, the System Notifications heralded the arrival of my brand-new Skill.
[System]: [Athletics] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Athletics] Skill.
¡®Let the grind begin,¡¯ I mused quietly to myself with a grin, as I slowly and gradually increased my speed. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
About 40 minutes later, I found myself standing back in front of my apartment door. I had initially estimated that the route I''d chosen would take roughly 30 minutes to complete. However, my limited familiarity with the mega building and my own pace had thrown that timeline off, causing me to arrive later than anticipated. Nonetheless, a 10-minute delay was hardly a catastrophe; I was genuinely thrilled to have navigated my way back without getting hopelessly lost. As the biometric scanner worked its magic to unlock the door, I caught my breath, panting somewhat heavily. The morning''s exercises had unquestionably taxed my still-developing stamina. Yet, the exertion had already started to pay off in a big way¡ªreturns on investment that left me buzzing with anticipation for more.
[System]: 600xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: [Athletics] Skill has reached Level 1. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute.
Unlocking Level 1 in my [Athletics] Skill had prompted yet another infusion of knowledge and muscle memory into my system. This download was far easier to assimilate than the ones for [Cooking] or [Programming] had been, so I''d simply kept jogging while the information settled in. Almost immediately, the newly-acquired expertise had helped me fine-tune my posture and gait, making me painfully aware of how flawed my initial form had been. While the Skill didn''t offer much beyond that, the importance of proper running form couldn''t be overstated. The impact on my stamina was noticeably substantial. With the corrections my muscle memory had made, thanks to the System''s enforced download, I estimated that I could likely extend my jog by another 10 minutes the following day¡ªprovided, of course, I started with the same level of stamina I had that morning. My first dedicated session of grinding left me feeling a wave of satisfaction. Once I re-entered the apartment, I made a beeline for the shower for a brisk rinse, stripping away the sweat of the morning''s exertions. Afterward, I slipped into the outfit I had worn the day before to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. The clothes were already steeped in the scent of sizzling oils and the tangy fragrance of algae ramen, making them the practical choice for another day''s work without unnecessarily seasoning another set with the aromatic signature of the food stall. All set, I cast a final glance at Gabriel, ensuring he was still resting comfortably. Then, I tucked the wheelchair into a discreet corner on my side of the room, next to my bed. I sent a silent message, essentially a quick note for Gabriel, letting him know I had stepped out for a bit of fresh air within the confines of the mega building, so he wouldn''t fret over my absence. The note was clear: He should message me immediately upon waking if he needed anything at all. Beside his bed, I had laid out a detailed account of the previous day''s events, along with Dr. Maltrick''s medical instructions. I hoped this would sufficiently brief him on his situation once he awoke. ''That should keep him informed,'' I assured myself silently, giving my slumbering brother one last look of sibling care before I turned to leave the apartment once more. I strode purposefully toward the black double-doors, which I had whimsically dubbed the secret elevator. Punching in the number for the 16th floor, I felt the familiar tingle of anticipation. I steeled my mind for another round of hustle at the food stall, the gears of my thoughts already turning with the strategies for the best way of grinding out all the Skills and Attributes that I had access to at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall.
As I stepped into the familiar clatter and clang of the back of the stall, Mr. Shori''s robust greeting sliced through the din, "Ahh! Stick-girl! Welcome, welcome!" His eyes twinkled with a blend of mirth and surprise as they appraised my altered form. "Huh? Stick becoming Sera, yes? Food help, yes?" It was clear that the discerning eyes of the old vendor had not missed the subtle changes the Body upgrade had rendered upon my physique. I couldn''t suppress the grin that sprang to my lips as I returned his enthusiasm with a buoyant thumbs-up, an echo of his own characteristic gesture. "Ha! Good, good! More cut, more cook today," he proclaimed, gesturing towards the familiar stations I had manned the day before. I was all too ready to dive in, but his next action halted me like a statue. In a shift from his usual lighthearted tone, he addressed me in Japanese, his expression a complex weave of seriousness and bafflement. "{What exactly did you do to my chopping knife? Did you sharpen it on the block or something? I¡¯ve never seen a knife as sharp as the one you left at the cutting board yesterday in my entire life}," he inquired, his usual joviality replaced by genuine intrigue. A jolt of ''oh no'' surged through my thoughts¡ª''Damnit! I knew I had forgotten something important!'' My mind raced, scrambling for an acceptable explanation. I managed to muster an apologetic tone, hoping my words would smooth over the unintended infraction. I, naturally, replied in Japanese as well. "{Ah¡­ Yes, I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Shori! I''ve always heard that a dull knife is a kitchen''s greatest danger, but I wasn¡¯t sure how to determine the blade''s sharpness in the first place, so I thought it prudent to sharpen it against the stone I found nearby... just to be safe. I''m truly sorry for altering your knife without asking first, Mr. Shori! I promise it won¡¯t happen again!}" My apology was earnest, tinged with a respect for the craft I had gleaned from my previous existence. I knew well that chefs¡ªparticularly those steeped in Asian traditions¡ªheld their knives in high esteem, the blades almost an extension of their own dedication and skill. In my former life, such tools were more than mere utensils; they were cherished partners in the culinary dance. The initial sharpening had been an experiment of sorts, a curious probe into the capabilities of my newfound Perk. I hadn''t anticipated that the resultant edge would be so keen, so dramatically refined that it would be such a massive change. The stark difference, I had to admit, had even taken me aback, so it was no big surprise that Mr. Shori¡¯s keen eyes had immediately spotted the difference as well. I mentally pledged then, a silent vow to myself: Henceforth, I would exercise caution. The Perk-sharpened knives, products of my unusual talent, would be kept away from communal spaces¡ªshielded from accidental discovery and the resulting questions that I might not be prepared to answer. Mr. Shori''s response blindsided me, taking a turn I hadn''t seen coming. ¡°{Ah, no need for apologies! Rather, I''m quite impressed. If you can consistently achieve that sharpness, would you mind giving the rest of my knives a once over?}¡± His voice held genuine admiration and curiosity. ¡°{Decades of honing my knives, and yet, I''ve never achieved such precision. Never even gotten close to it. How did you master this skill to such a degree at your young age?}¡± I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts. My previous scramble for an excuse had put me on more solid footing for this follow-up. ¡°{Well, when I was younger, I stumbled upon this shard on the streets. Without knowing any better, I plugged it in and... there was a program inside. It helped me gain this skill.}" I added, attempting to infuse some levity into the conversation, "{Ah! I, of course, now know that I should never, ever plug in random data-shards from the ground!}¡± And in some twisted way, it wasn''t entirely untrue either¡ªa mysterious, strange program had indeed granted me this unique Perk. Take that, G.E.M.A. System! With a nod that seemed to close the chapter on our linguistic detour, Mr. Shori motioned me back towards the cutting board designated for algae preparation. Yet, before I could set into motion, he interjected with a grin wide enough to swallow his eyes, a telltale sign of his cheerful disposition, "Stick girl, very good. When done, take knives. All. Make sharp, yes?¡± I felt extremely glad that I hadn¡¯t been admonished and hadn¡¯t been found out because of this faux-pas. I was not only off the hook for my unintended knife modification but had inadvertently impressed him as well. With an eager nod, mirroring his own and that felt as light as the atmosphere in the stall, I assured him of my compliance and made my way to my station, ready to tackle the day''s algae-cutting tasks with renewed vigour.
A mountain of algae cutting later, I was busy transferring them into their respective boiling pots. Yes, cauldrons plural, as today¡¯s culinary endeavours had expanded to include a second pot. Perhaps Mr. Shori had foreseen the benefits of an additional pair of hands, aiming to amplify the output of his renowned delicacies. Or maybe it was a precautionary tactic to prevent a repeat of yesterday''s minor mishap¡ªthe pot completely overflowing. His true motives were as obscure as the steam rising in whimsical swirls above the pots. The repetitive motion of slicing through the algae for a solid half-hour stint had unwittingly become a fruitful exercise for my Skills and Attributes, generously contributing to my arsenal. Each slice seemed to deposit a coin into my bank of abilities, and I could feel the weight of my digital pockets jingle with the promise of improvement. The progress was palpable, and it settled a contented smile on my face, one that would likely persist throughout the bustling hours ahead at the stall.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Surprisingly, [Cooking] proved to be an enigmatic Skill, one that had a counterintuitively slow rate of experience gain. Unless one delved into its more arcane mechanics¡ªlike experimenting with novel recipes or tasting unfamiliar ingredients¡ªgrinding away at routine tasks often yielded more experience towards its governing Attributes than the Skill itself. This unique dynamic meant that my Tech Attribute experienced a sizable uptick, while [Cooking] received only a modest nudge in progression. But rather than feeling discontented, this was exactly why [Cooking] as a Skill had held such an allure for me. It provided an avenue to effortlessly boost my Tech without the burden of squandering exorbitant credits on procuring supplies. The lively rhythm of a song emanating from Mr. Shori¡¯s radio filled the air, and I found myself harmonising with it¡ªa subdued, cheerful whistle that accompanied my task. I systematically funnelled the sliced algae into the bubbling pots, going back and forth until they neared capacity and my reserves of chopped algae dwindled to nothing. Revisiting my seasoning routine from the previous day, I meticulously flavoured the simmering water within the pots. With each dash and sprinkle, I intermittently sampled the broth, ensuring the taste was spot-on. I was resolute not to give Mr. Shori even a hint of regret for bringing me on board. Once satisfied, my gaze settled on the grindstone nestled adjacent to the cutting board¡ªan old-school, flat and black stone that, much to my story¡¯s earlier assistance, had apparently been there the prior day but escaped my notice. I began gathering the knives scattered about, all the while ensuring Mr. Shori was engrossed with customers. Then, with an air of artful mastery, I feigned sharpening the blades on the stone, employing deliberate, graceful strokes as if I was a seasoned blade-smith, carefully observing the edge while slowly moving the blade across the stone. To be more real: I was clearly bullshitting. The intent was to deflect any random onlookers from deducing my uncanny ability to instantly hone a blade to such an extent that it could seamlessly cleave through bone. I made sure to only use the Perk¡¯s ability once I had spent at least ten minutes on this act, just to make absolutely certain nobody could discern anything from a distance. I was keenly aware of the fact that, should this unique skill become public knowledge, I¡¯d likely find myself trapped in some corporate laboratory quicker than I could whet a knife in the first place.
An hour swept by, and with it, the task of ''sharpening'' every knife Mr. Shori had entrusted to me was ostensibly finished. The blades, each reflecting the stall''s ambient light with a deceptive edge, were arrayed in a meticulous sequence beside the unassuming, black grindstone. I took a moment to appreciate the orderly spectacle¡ªmy handiwork, albeit a facade, still offered a tangible sense of accomplishment. ''Great work, Sera,'' echoed a self-congratulatory thought, a silent nod to the charade I had managed to uphold. Yet, the inner disciplinarian in me wasted no time. ''Now, back to the Skill grind!'' I chided myself, the mental kick redirecting my focus to the tasks that lay ahead. I genuinely hadn''t a clue about the specifics of the tasks that awaited me. For the next several hours, my strategy was simple: Heed Mr. Shori''s directives until either he gave me leave, the stall shuttered for the evening, or sheer exhaustion dictated my pause. Steeling myself, I seized a quiet interlude when Mr. Shori was momentarily free from the ebb and flow of patrons. Approaching him, I inquired, ¡°Mr. Shori, I¡¯ve completed all the assignments you outlined for me today. Anything else you want me to take care of?¡± Mr. Shori¡¯s response caught me off-guard. With a gravitas I had not seen in him before, he beckoned me to the secluded back of the stall, away from prying eyes and the perpetual chatter of customers. His usually bright expression had given way to a solemnity that seemed out of place on his normally stoic, yet jovial features. "{Stick-girl}," he began, his words deliberately measured and in fluent Japanese, which made me immediately perk up even further¡ªMr. Shori never used Japanese if he could avoid it, after all. "{There is one task, of a particular importance, that I wish to entrust to you}." He paused, as if weighing the weight of his next words. "{But let me be clear}," he continued, his gaze locking onto mine, "{you are at full liberty to decline. I will not hold it against you, nor will my opinion of you diminish and you are free to continue working here as before. Nothing will change, I promise}." I stood there, intrigued and a tad wary. This wasn''t the straightforward, stoic but secretly kind-hearted and cheerful stall owner I''d known. This Mr. Shori had depths I hadn''t glimpsed before. I wanted to continue to steer clear of trouble, at least until I could bolster my Skills and Attributes enough to face it head-on, but Mr. Shori¡¯s understanding of my current physical capabilities¡ªeven mockingly referring to me as ''Stick-girl''¡ªreassured me. Surely, he wouldn''t set me up against insurmountable odds. The back-and-forth that followed inside of me was terse. His offer was a gamble, a mystery task with stakes hidden from my view. But curiosity, that treacherous whisper, nudged me forward. I decided, after a moment''s hesitation, that I would at least hear what he had to propose. After all, Mr. Shori had always been fair, and his earnest assurance that refusal was an option without consequence was oddly comforting. "{Alright, Mr. Shori}," I replied with cautious curiosity. "{I''ll listen to what you want me to do. What is this important task all about¡­?}" Chapter 21 - Mr. Shori鈥檚 Task Mr. Shori¡¯s voice dropped to a hushed murmur, so faint that one might think the rustling of leaves outside could drown it. Of course, this was a cautious step rather than a foolproof measure¡ªanyone fitted with a Tier 3 hearing implant could eavesdrop without strain, but that was not my place to point out. With an intensity that made the ambient noises of the market seem distant, Mr. Shori leaned in, his eyes sharp with an earnestness I had never seen before. ¡°{Picture this: Here in Delta, the marketplace is like a shark tank, and we, the stall-keepers, are but small fishes. To survive, we ''invest'' in a type of... shield¡ªpaying tribute for protection, if you will. It''s been an age-old dance in this bazaar. We pay up, they stand guard, and the bullies stay clear. But times, they''re changing},¡± he said with a heavy sigh, glancing around as if expecting shadows to pounce. ¡°{The Red Snakes, my once-trusted protectors, have turned as unreliable as a mirage. And Delta? It''s a den of four such groups of ''guardians.'' The winds of change whisper to me; it''s time to switch banners¡ªto the Clawed Beasts}." Drawing a breath, as if steeling himself for what came next, he continued, ¡°{They¡¯ve made me an offer: Protection in exchange for the usual payment and, more precariously, a data-shard¡ªa jackpot of dirt on the Red Snakes. Exceedingly tempting for them, similarly risky for me}." He glanced towards his stall, the heart of his livelihood. "{Here''s the snag: Stepping away, even for a heartbeat, would be like sending up a flare, alerting all. But you},¡± he pointed at me, his finger trembling just a bit, ¡°{you''re a ghost in this game. Nobody knows who you are. You¡¯re an unknown. You could glide by, slip the shard, and seal this pact without a ripple}.¡± He continued, his voice grave yet pleading, ¡°{But again, this isn¡¯t a directive. This is a plea. Dive into this mess for me or walk away¡ªeither way, I¡¯m entrusting you with my secret. There''s a gut feeling within me, maybe pure instinct or blind hope, that whispers you won''t sell me out to the Snakes. In this shifting sand, I stand on a precipice, and I¡¯m asking... might you be the hand that steadies me? I will, of course, reimburse you generously for your assistance in this matter, Sera}.¡± The weight of Mr. Shori¡¯s gaze anchored me, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. His plea was deafening in its silence, drowning out the usual market clamour. Being pulled into something of such magnitude was unfamiliar and unsettling; my mind raced, trying to grasp the full implications of his request. I imagined the covert glances of the Red Snakes, the omnipresent, unseen observers of the marketplace¡¯s underworld. Getting involved felt like dancing on the edge of one of the knives I so carefully honed: One misstep and the consequences could be dire. Could I really afford to delve into this, knowing the kind of world I had been placed in? Neon Dragons wasn¡¯t a kind and forgiving place, after all. If the Red Snakes caught wind of my participation, I would be extremely lucky to get away with getting my legs broken in a million pieces¡ªmore than likely, they¡¯d just straight up kill me. But as his words sank in, clarity emerged as well. Mr. Shori was completely right¡ªI was a shadow in this world. My day-long association with the stall was hardly substantial enough to draw any attention. What had jolted me most was the absence of his usual moniker for me: ¡°Stick-girl.¡± Hearing him address me as Sera¡ªa deliberate shift from playful banter to solemn recognition¡ªunderscored the gravity of what he was entrusting to me. It wasn¡¯t just a name; it was an affirmation of my identity and the faith he was placing in me by laying bare his predicament. With that single utterance, I had grasped the depth of the trust he was bestowing and the peril that accompanied it. The notion that Mr. Shori had orchestrated this entire scenario from the outset insinuated itself into my thoughts with unnerving persistence. ''Did he offer me food and assistance only to assess my worthiness before casting me to the wolves like this?'' I pondered this with a furrowed brow, the possibility looming like a hazy spectre in the dim alleyways of my mind. In this harsh world, his generosity had indeed been an anomaly; most people didn¡¯t give without expecting something in return, especially not in the unforgiving world of Neon Dragons. The thought that his kindness was a mere prelude to some test of loyalty was both jarring and plausible in equal measure. Yet, scepticism gnawed at me. Would Mr. Shori truly contrive such a convoluted plan, pinning his hopes on a frail 15-year-old who had stumbled in, barely able to stand, let alone take on the role of a clandestine courier? The idea seemed far-fetched when laid bare like this. ''No, that theory is absolutely riddled with holes,'' I mused, the logic within me clawing its way to the forefront of my turbulent sea of thoughts. ¡®Without my System, I would have been unable to do any sort of task for him, any time soon. I was barely able to walk down here yesterday and Mr. Shori definitely saw the state I had been in. There is no shot he had this in mind when he offered me food. And the way he made it sound, this issue isn¡¯t something that can wait for a couple of months until I had recovered either.¡¯ I felt a pull toward trusting Mr. Shori, an instinct to believe in the good I hoped still existed within the grime-streaked walls of Neon Dragons. Yet, as I teetered on the edge of decision, the harsh whisper of reality asked me whether trust was a luxury I could afford, whether it was worth the peril it invited. The risk, though ostensibly slight, cast a long, menacing shadow. Even if minuscule, it was the kind of shadow that could engulf and end my newfound life in an instant. Unprepared and ill-equipped as I was for any skirmish in this brutal new world, the thought of being unmasked was a chilling, yet very real prospect. The conclusion crystallised in my mind with reluctant clarity, its edges sharp with sorrow. "{I''m sorry, Mr. Shori}," I began, my words heavy with the weight of the refusal I was about to issue. "{I cannot commit to your proposition. This secret will remain with me; your previous generosity has earned you that much, I assure you of that. But my life... I can''t put it on the line, not when the threat of discovery, no matter how remote, hovers over me." My voice, usually steady and calm, frayed at the ends, betraying the internal turmoil of declining what felt like a heartfelt plea of assistance from a man who had shown me nothing but unexpected kindness. It was a matter of survival, a silent vow to myself that I had to prioritise my own existence over everyone else. I still needed to grow, hone my Skills, bolster my Attributes, and arm myself with more than just a day''s worth of experiences and a combat knife. A month from now, perhaps, with more time to accustom myself to my resurrected limbs and more Skill levels, Attributes and Perks, I might have leapt at the chance for such a quest. But as I stood there, barely having passed initial steps of relearning the rhythm of walking, the very idea of undertaking such a task seemed like an insurmountable leap. Not yet¡ªI was simply not ready. However, the second I had finished my words, a System chime caught my attention. ¡®Huh? I shouldn¡¯t have gotten any experience from that just now, should I¡­?¡¯ As I waited for Mr. Shori¡¯s answer, I rapidly opened the System¡¯s notification only to feel my muscles tense up as I read the first words in it. ¡®Ah, fuck.¡¯
[Task Issued: Mr. Shori¡¯s Request] [Description: Follow Mr. Shori¡¯s directions to the Clawed Beasts¡¯ hideout and deliver the data-shard to the contact person.] [Reward: 250 Character Experience + 1 Skill Point] [Are you sure you want to delete this Task? Yes / No] [Warning: Denying the Task will delete the entry from the G.E.M.A. System and will make you unable to gain these rewards at a later time, even if the Task is successfully completed.]
A torrent of frustration surged within me, my inner monologue lashing out at the invisible circuits of my cerebral companion. ¡®You just had to play this card, didn''t you?! Prey on my deepest weakness, my fear of missing out!¡¯ I raged silently at the System, feeling its silent presence mocking my predicament. The moment stretched, a battlefield of indecision, before my resolve shifted, a sudden pivot born of an unspoken bond with the man before me, coupled with the tantalising rewards promised by the enigmatic System within my head. With a voice softened by contemplation, edged with a newfound determination, I found myself capitulating to the unforeseen role of a reluctant hero. "{Actually, Mr. Shori}," I started, the words surprising even me, "{I''ve reconsidered. There''s a part of me that can''t stand aside and watch you grapple with this danger alone. I''ll agree to your request¡ªon the condition that I can make a swift exit at the first hint of trouble. If I feel even remotely scared, I¡¯ll just up and book it, we clear? Oh, and let''s not forget, I expect to be handsomely rewarded with an extra serving or two of that exceptional noodle bowl of yours. And those credits you promised, as well!}" A faint smile played on my lips, a mixture of nerves and the thrill of a terrible decision having been made. Mr. Shori''s response was as immediate as it was disjointed, his words tripping over themselves in a rush of startled concern. "{It''s quite alright, truly}," he stammered, his hands raised in a gesture of cessation, "{I can seek another¡ª}" But I cut him off, a firm resolve rooting my words to the spot, "{No, Mr. Shori. I''ve made up my mind. I''m in this now. No second thoughts}." The air between us charged with a new energy, I saw a shimmer of something raw and unguarded flicker in Mr. Shori''s eyes¡ªa silent, grateful acknowledgement that spoke louder than words ever could. "{Thank you, Sera}," he said, the timbre of his voice tinged with a relief so palpable it almost reached out and embraced me. He fumbled for a moment before composing himself and his eyes briefly flickering in a yellow-light, before my cerebral interface notified me of an attempt to transfer data. Naturally, I accepted and the detailed breakdown of the location and identity of Mr. Shori¡¯s contact person was added to my database. As the gravity of my decision sank in, I felt the weight of the data-shard case as it was subtly slipped into one of my pockets¡ªa smooth transfer unseen by the bustling world around us. Mr. Shori continued to shower me with thanks, each one landing with an increasing sense of discomfort. "{Please, that''s enough}," I finally blurted, a flush of embarrassment warming my cheeks. "{Go handle some customers or cut some algae or something}," I suggested, with an awkward chuckle, hoping to deflect the intensity of his gratitude. Internally, I grimaced at the reminder of my true motivation. I wasn''t the altruistic hero he painted me to be. I''d literally rejected him, initially, and it was only the System''s cruel twist on my fear of missing out that swayed my decision. But what Mr. Shori didn''t know wouldn''t hurt him. As long as I got my hands on the promised rewards, I was content to play the part he needed. Switching back to English, Mr. Shori gave me one of his typical thumbs-up gestures, ¡°Thank you, Sera. Fast, quiet! Good Luck!¡± I gave him a last, firm, nod before walking out of the stall¡¯s backdoor.
Barely seconds had passed since I''d left the tentative sanctuary of Mr. Shori''s stall, and already the bustling chaos of the street seemed to jeer at my hastily made decision. I mentally chastised myself with a fierce internal rebuke. ''What the actual fuck were you thinking, Sera?! Have you lost your damned mind?! You just lectured yourself on the sacred principle of self-preservation, and then, what? Some digital prompt flashes before your eyes and suddenly you''re ready to throw all that caution to the wind? Brilliant, just brilliant. And for what? A smidgen of character experience and a measly single Skillpoint?! If you wind up dead, they''re not worth a damn. They''ll vanish like smoke, and you, you utter fool, you¡¯ll be dead!'' My thoughts raged against my own impulsivity, branding me a complete idiot, playing at a game with stakes far beyond some XP and Skill points. Weaving through the thick swarm of the marketplace''s lifeblood, the myriad souls each ensnared in their daily hustle, I scrutinised the map and intelligence package that Mr. Shori had discreetly transmitted to me. ''So, floor 21 is the target,'' I thought, ''and the rendezvous point is at "The Downpour"¡ªsounds like a bar or something. Better not be a members-only kind of joint.'' I let this thought simmer in the back of my mind as I meandered by an eclectic array of stalls that spilled onto the street and brick-and-mortar establishments burrowed into the skeletal structure of the 16th floor. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. To conceal my true intent, I adopted the guise of just another curious onlooker, a wanderer indulging in the vibrancy of one of the many mega building¡¯s markets. I deftly sidestepped hawkers peddling their wares and paused occasionally to feign interest, all while allowing the sea of bodies to wash over my presence, eroding any distinct trail I might leave behind. As I drifted among the stalls, my gaze flitting from gaudy trinkets to practical wares, I also took the opportunity to familiarise myself with the peculiarities of the 16th floor''s anatomy, committing to memory the arteries that coursed through the megastructure, knowing such knowledge could be a lifeline in a future unforeseen crisis. Much to my surprise, I was greeted by a familiar sounding chime coming from the System.
[System]: [Stealth] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Edge Attribute.
¡®Oh wow, this counted for [Stealth]?!¡¯ This wasn''t just any skill¡ªit was poised to become an indispensable part of my arsenal being an absolute S-tier Skill and the very first of my Edge Attribute Skills, carving open a path to hone each of my Attributes. The euphoria of this realisation surged through me like an electric current. But the initial rush of excitement swiftly cooled into a sobering draught of realisation. The gears of my mind churned uneasily. ¡®Wait a second, does the system clock [Stealth] experience only when I''m consciously dodging the prying eyes hunting for me? Or does it kick in whenever I slip by unnoticed, regardless of whether any observers are actually on the lookout for me?¡¯ The distinction was crucial, laden with profound implications that could alter the course of my furtive endeavours. With a renewed sense of urgency, I ducked my head lower, allowing the shadow of anonymity to cloak my figure more tightly among the throng. My thoughts suddenly crystalline amidst the clamour of the street. ¡®Hold on, let''s approach this with a cool dissection of logic. The System, would it actually throw me a bone and notify me passively if I''m being hunted? That seems a stretch¡ªthe System I know wouldn¡¯t be so generous, not without some specialised Perk or Trait explicitly designed for it.¡¯ I cast my mind back, sifting through my knowledge of the [Stealth] Skill in the original Neon Dragons game. ¡®Shit, that¡¯s right. The game worked exactly like that. It granted [Stealth] experience solely in the presence of adversaries, a built-in safeguard against the exploitation of its mechanics¡ªyou couldn¡¯t just shadow-dance in a secured zone and script your way to mastering [Stealth]¡­¡¯ But I had also already confirmed that this world was not bound by the static rules of the game. Things had changed, evolved. The landscape of Skills had expanded into uncharted territory, leaving me to navigate its nuances without a map, without any prior knowledge. With caution as my guide, I resolved to linger in the fray of the marketplace, to blend into the tapestry of faces and voices for another hour, maybe two. Then I¡¯d seek out the solemn quiet of the restricted elevators, weaving through different floors and possibly switching lifts. A paranoid overkill? Perhaps. But in a world where certainty was as elusive as shadows at dusk, paranoia could very well be the thread that kept the fickle fabric of my existence alive.
After about an hour and a half, wandering aimlessly among countless shops and stalls¡ªnone of which held any allure for my specific needs¡ªI finally stepped into the muted calm of a restricted elevator. I deliberately avoided the one I typically used, choosing instead a lesser-known alternative I had found during my random strolling. Recognizing the subtle features of these concealed lifts was becoming second nature to me¡ªso much for their secretive charm. Once inside, I was somewhat constrained by the limited options; I could only journey to and from the designated restricted floors. Though I would have preferred to obfuscate my movements further by selecting an entirely different destination, my choices were limited, and I found myself reluctantly keying in the 43rd floor. As the elevator made its ascent, I sifted through the slew of notifications that had popped up during my ruse.
[System]: 500xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute.
¡®I''m edging closer to that initial knowledge infusion¡­ It¡¯d be a boon if I could achieve it before stepping into "The Downpour"¡ªwhatever that establishment might be,¡¯ I pondered. I continued to muse as the elevator rose up, thinking about my earlier deductions, ¡®at least I feel a lot more certain that my initial thoughts about the [Stealth] Skill are accurate. I seriously doubt I had anyone actively follow me for the entire duration since I left Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, yet I kept getting experience drops pretty consistently. Still: I won¡¯t let down my guard quite yet. Not worth it.¡¯ Arriving on the 43rd floor, the hush of the sparsely populated corridors was my only greeting. With the intricate web of routes Oliver had furnished me with only a day past, I was confident I wouldn''t find myself turned around in these labyrinthine passageways. My pace was swift, each step purposeful as I navigated through the quietude of the residential floor that I called home. The elevators lay ahead, and I zeroed in on the standard one¡ªa calculated choice to muddy any tracks I might be leaving behind. Using the restricted lifts at both ends of my journey would be tantamount to laying breadcrumbs straight to my doorstep for any potential followers, even normal gangers would be smart enough to figure this out. Subtlety was key. The wait for the elevator was interminable¡ªfifteen minutes of thumb-twiddling while the system diligently ensured the absence of unregistered entities, an inconvenience of high-security living. At last, the doors parted with a hushed whoosh, and I stepped into the cabin, issuing the command to descend to the 21st floor on the nearby display. I muttered a pep talk under my breath, a litany meant to steel my nerves. ¡°This is it, Sera. Just blend in. You¡¯re on a casual visit to ¡®The Downpour,¡¯ an innocent foray, nothing more.¡± The drumbeat of my heartbeat was a stark counterpoint to my feigned calm, thrumming loud in my ears as the elevator commenced its descent. The doors of the elevator parted with their usual merry tone, a stark contradiction to the atmosphere that awaited outside. As I stepped onto the 21st floor of the megabuilding, I couldn''t shake off the feeling that I had crossed into an alien realm. The "street" before me was a far cry from the cleaner corridors I was accustomed to; it was a vision of neglect and despair, as if the very essence of dreariness had settled into the concrete. Half-broken neon signs flickered spasmodically, giving off a sickly glow that cast long, ominous shadows across the hallway. They advertised a slew of establishments, from pawn shops peddling questionable electronics to bars that seemed too sordid to promise anything but trouble. The main hallway I had found myself in branched off into several side passages, reminiscent of backstreets, each with its own character. Brightly lit alleyways shouted promises of cheap thrills and bargains, luring in passersby with a facade of cheerfulness that couldn''t quite reach their depths. In stark contrast were the darker paths, void of any welcoming light, where the absence of signs was a sign in itself ¡ª no good awaited there. Instinctively, I gave these areas a wide berth, my steps unconsciously quickening as I passed them. The people were as varied as the stores I passed by. Punkers sporting neon hair and cybernetic enhancements leaned against the walls, eyeing the crowd with a mix of disdain and opportunism while clearly gripping some concealed heat in the hands that weren¡¯t throwing back another bottle. Drunken businessmen staggered out of dive bars, their ties loosened and eyes unfocused, too absorbed in their own decline to notice the world around them. And then there were the Vir-Girls, the Neon Dragons'' answer to society''s oldest profession. They lounged at nearly every corner, their bodies on display in a manner that bordered on artifice, their synthetic beauty both alluring and unsettling. They were a stark contrast to my own preferences for attire and demeanour¡ªtheir exposed skin and provocative postures seemed as much a part of the commerce of the streets as the neon signs and hawker cries. ¡®I¡¯m extremely out of place here, aren¡¯t I,¡¯ I thought to myself as I tried to keep myself as inconspicuous as possible. However, not long after I had that thought, I spotted a group of teenagers around my age stumbling out of a nearby dive-bar. They wore their youth like a badge of honour, a stark contrast to the weathered facade of the street, but there was an unmistakable edge to them. Their grey-leather jackets were emblazoned with a symbol that spoke of their allegiance¡ªa snarling cybernetic wolf, its electric blue eyes glaring menacingly from the dark fabric. Their demeanour was brash and unyielding, a youthful arrogance that only the ignorance of adolescence could furnish. Laughter and rough banter bounced amongst them, a bubble of bravado that seemed to shield them from the grim realities of the street. Across the way, their apparent antagonists bore a starkly different emblem¡ªa crimson phoenix rising from a circuitry nest, wings ablaze with digital flames. Their colours were a deep red and gold, hues that shone like a warning light in the dusky corridor. The teenagers exuded a rowdy energy, their movements loose and reckless, while the group of more adult-looking gangers carried themselves with a disciplined tension, each movement deliberate, almost like a dance of controlled power. As the two groups clashed, the air between them crackled with the electricity of impending conflict. Insults were traded with increasing venom, and what began as a war of words quickly threatened to devolve into a more physical confrontation as one of the teenagers pulled a serious looking combat knife from a holster at their waist. I ducked into the shadows of a nearby store''s overhang, its flickering sign providing a canopy of dim light and anonymity. My heart pounded against my ribcage, not in fear, but in the anxious understanding of the volatility of the situation. Other pedestrians, too, seemed to sense the brewing storm; their steps quickened, their heads turned away, as if the act of seeing could somehow draw them into the fray. Here in the depths of Neo Avalis, the life I had once known was replaced with the shadow play of survival, where allegiances were marked by symbols and colours, and where even the uninvolved could become unwitting pawns in the territorial fights of gangers. Nestled within the shadowed alcove, I grappled with the complex web of Neo Avalis gang politics. Though I had taken refuge to remain unnoticed, my innate curiosity had its claws deep within me. What had sparked this confrontation? Was it just the usual turf squabbles, or had something more significant occurred? Knowledge, after all, was the lifeblood of any city''s underbelly. Understanding the intricate relationships and power struggles of the gangs that roamed the corridors of the megabuilding was vital. If I aimed to be more than just another face in the crowd, if I aspired to not just eke out an existence but to truly thrive at some point, I had to be in the know. What better time to start gathering information than right now? I edged closer, my ears hungry for every scrap of dialogue. Amid the cacophony of shouting and jeers, a distinct voice rang out, laden with youthful bravado, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority. "So you Gold Chickens think you can just waltz up here? Did you actually believe the Byte Wolves would just stand by and watch? You''re delusional! The Clawed Beasts are our brothers, and this is their territory. I suggest you very quickly rethink your stupid move and fuck right off, or we''ll make you regret it." The voice, confident yet tinged with the rawness of youth, stood out. It wasn''t just the words but the tone¡ªassertive and, in a way, protective. It was evident that he held some stature within the Byte Wolves, likely born into the gang or adopted into its ranks very early on. My mind began connecting the dots, attempting to weave together a narrative from the fragments of information I had gleaned. ''Is he the leader of this younger group? And the Byte Wolves, are they just fledgling upstarts or a branch of a larger, more formidable gang network¡­? Golden Chickens are probably the older guys, although I seriously doubt that¡¯s their actual gang¡¯s name¡­'' The verbal sparring escalated, the air crackling with tension as the reply sliced through the hubbub. Sharp, scornful, laced with a mix of contempt and irritation, the retort cut a clear path to my eavesdropping ears. ¡°Golden Chickens...? That¡¯s the best you¡¯ve got? Recycling old taunts like it¡¯s going to score you points, Forn. I honestly expected something a bit more original from you. Or have your wits dulled along with your little gang''s reputation? Listen up, let me educate you and your ragtag band of wannabes¡ªGolden Phoenix doesn''t concern itself with the opinions of petty upstarts like Byte Wolves. You claim this is the domain of the Clawed Beasts? Then fetch me one that can actually bite and not just bark, pup. I have no time to parley with mongrels.¡± As the taunt hung heavy in the air, a small smirk played upon my lips. My earlier assumptions didn''t seem so far off now. ¡®Golden Phoenix, Byte Wolves, Red Snakes, Clawed Beasts. Are those the four gangs Mr. Shori had mentioned? Or are the Byte Wolves and Golden Phoenix separate entities altogether, uninvolved in the whole protection racket that Mr. Shori had gotten involved in? In a sprawling megabuilding like this, teeming with over a hundred thousand souls, it doesn¡¯t seem particularly likely for only four gangs to hold sway¡­ So probably uninvolved. Or, at the very least, not directly responsible. Either way, they¡¯re blocking my path towards ¡°The Downpour¡±, so I¡¯ll just have to¡ª¡¯ Before I could finish the thought, I instinctively ducked, nearly throwing myself flat on the floor as the tell-tale sound of a handgun went off. A brief moment of shocked silence followed, before the once tense, but still relatively calm scene erupted into sheer chaos. Steel glinted under the dim neon lights as knives and blades of all kinds flashed between members of both gangs. But amidst the whirlwind of swinging weapons and grunts, Forn, with his dishevelled hair and wild, yellow eyes, stood distinct. He held an old, rusty handgun, somewhat reminiscent of an up-sized version of an M1911 from my past-life if you look at it the right way, its smoky barrel pointing at the fallen leader of the Golden Phoenix. The man lay motionless, a growing pool of blood around him telling the tale of where Forn''s first bullet had lodged. The clash that ensued was barbaric and frenzied. Gangers slashed and stabbed with a rabid intensity, each blow meant to wound or kill. Every so often, punctuating the cacophony of grunts and shrieks, was the sharp report of Forn''s gun. Each bullet found a target, each shot further tilting the scales in favour of the Byte Wolves. To me, watching this horrifying violence unfold, time seemed to elongate. Every cut, every scream, every drop of blood that spattered on the metallic floor played out in grotesque detail. Yet, in reality, the entire skirmish spanned mere seconds. As suddenly as it had started, it already began winding down. The Byte Wolves emerged as the dominant force. Many of the Golden Phoenix lay either dead or writhing in pain, clutching their wounds. Only a few managed to escape the onslaught, fleeing into the shadows of the alleyways. Two of the Golden Phoenix, seemingly of some importance, or maybe just because they were the least injured at first glance, were seized by the Byte Wolves. Forn, now with a macabre grin, stepped towards the fallen leader of his rivals. Without hesitation, he shot him in the head, an act of finality and dominance. Spitting on the corpse, he seemed to savour this moment of victory as he seemed to say something to the body that I was too frightened and too far away to hear. The Byte Wolves then hastily retreated, dragging their own wounded and the two captured Phoenix members with them. The corridor, once buzzing with energy, now lay eerily silent, save for the occasional whimper of the injured and dying. I slowly emerged from my hiding spot, taking shallow breaths, every fibre of my being shaken by the raw brutality I had just witnessed. The harrowing truth of Neo Avalis and its intricate gang politics, which I had always been aware of but never truly felt in my bones, only having watched it as a bystander on screens in my past life, had brutally unfolded before my very eyes. My mind was fully numbed by the shock, unable to process what had just happened in front of me. I had never seen a person die before, much less in such a brutal, senseless way. I''d always thought I understood the cuthroat nature of the cyberpunk genre¡ªits unrelenting cruelty, its stark darkness, its perverse disregard for the sanctity of life. But witnessing a massacre, with over a dozen victims sprawled just metres from where I stood, their lifeblood pulsating out in a gruesome rhythm, was an experience far removed from mere understanding. Among them, shockingly young faces, perhaps even my age or younger, stared vacantly back. There, amid the carnage, a young girl caught my attention. She wore a faded grey-leather jacket, its back emblazoned with a cybernetic wolf. The once brilliantly neon-blue eyes of the wolf were now tainted crimson, mirroring the fresh blood pooling around her. Her own eyes, vacant and still, spoke of the sheer terror and pain she must''ve felt as a blade tore into her throat, violentely ending her short-lived existence. Confronted with this grim reality, her lifeless eyes serving as a chilling reminder of the true underlying rules of this new world I found myself in, I couldn''t hold back any longer¡ªmy breakfast made a violent reappearance¡­ Chapter 22 - The Downpour Scrubbing at my lips to erase the trace of bile, I finally tore my gaze from the chilling tableau of violence. This situation had spiralled into a realm of insanity far beyond what I''d ever anticipated. ¡®Fuck. This is fucked. This is so fucking fucked!¡¯ My mind was in upheaval, thoughts whirling in a tempest as I struggled to make sense of the butchery before me. My Ego Attribute was working overtime, enforcing a brittle veneer of composure over the swell of panic that threatened to engulf me. It was as a battle raging within me, a clash between the cold serenity imposed by my Ego and the primal urge to flee that screamed in my veins. The mission was supposed to be straightforward¡ªa simple courier job, nothing more. I hadn¡¯t signed on for witnessing a bloodbath, hadn''t braced for the reality of watching teenagers barely older than myself snuff out each other''s lives with a brutality that chilled the soul. This was a gross deviation from the plan. Despite my non-involvement, danger had grazed me too closely; a stray bullet had no name, and mine could have easily been called in that moment of random violence. The harshness of this world, the sheer precipitous nature of mortality here, had blindsided me entirely. I had imagined, perhaps naively, that I would have time to adapt, to come to terms with the prospect of death¡ªboth witnessing it and, later on, likely having to deal it. Yet here I was, confronted with this conflict at a point when I was still utterly unprepared, both mentally and physically, to face it. "Hey, you okay there?" A voice, jarringly close, broke through my haze of shock. The sudden intrusion, given my already frayed nerves, sent adrenaline surging through me. An involuntary yelp escaped my lips as I reflexively jumped back from the source of the sound. Almost instinctively, my hand snatched the combat knife at my side. The [Knives] Skill embedded within me took over, stabilising my trembling hands. The acquired muscle memory from the Skill assured a firm, practised grip on the blade, positioning it defensively in front of me, poised to strike if necessary. The figure before me maintained a disarming casualness, their hands still raised in a non-threatening manner, and their voice laced with an accent that seemed out of place in the dingy, blood-stained corridor. ¡°No trouble here, I just saw you ducking in and thought you could use some help,¡± they said, their gaze softening. ¡°Around these parts, you learn to spot who¡¯s a local and who¡¯s not, and you, girl, you''re definitely not.¡± My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to fabricate some semblance of a story that could explain my presence. Yet, the tremble in my voice and the lingering nausea made it clear that any excuse would fall flat against the backdrop of my earlier display. Puking, jumping at shadows, flinching at loud noises¡ªnone of these were the hallmarks of someone accustomed to the savagery of gangland disputes. With a reluctant exhale, I allowed the knife to droop slightly, signalling my surrender to the truth. A careful sweep of my eyes over their attire confirmed the absence of gang colours or symbols. The neutral tones they wore seemed almost deliberately chosen to avoid allegiance or provocation. ¡°Alright,¡± I conceded, my voice steadier now as I accepted my vulnerability. ¡°I''m just here on a delivery. I¡¯m not... I¡¯m not part of all this,¡± I gestured limply to the chaos behind me, the reality of the scene making me feel even more out of my depth. The stranger''s expression eased into a look of understanding, tinged with a hint of respect. ¡°Coming to the 21st just for a delivery? That¡¯s quite the errand you chose. I could help you out, keep an eye on you and get you where you need to be, how about it? I¡¯m always looking to earn some extra creds.¡± As the stranger spoke, he reached up, drawing back his hood in a slow, deliberate motion, revealing the full landscape of his face. It was the visage of a man who had seen the rough edges of the world, yet had refused to let it defeat him. His skin was a tanned canvas, speckled with patches of lighter tones, like old leather exposed to the sun for too long. His jet-black hair, cut short and showing traces of premature greying, added to his rugged demeanour. But it was his eyes, clearly cybernetic, that struck me the most. They were pools of amber with neon-violet skulls chosen as the iris. However, as arresting as his appearance was, I felt an internal tug, reminding me of the perils of my surroundings and the inherent dangers of trusting strangers in this world. His offer was tempting, and I could instinctively tell he wasn¡¯t lying about his ability to navigate the hazards of the undercity. But I was also acutely aware of the consequences of aligning myself with the wrong person. The memory of the violence I had just witnessed served as a potent and chilling reminder thereof. Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze with determination. "Thank you for the offer, but I''ll pass." I said, my voice steady, albeit tinged with a hint of regret that I couldn¡¯t manage to swallow entirely. It would have been nice to have someone around that can lead me through this gang-infested floor, but I had no way of knowing whether the skull-irised man was going to be true to his words. He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tilting in an amused half-smile. "Suit yourself," he replied, his tone nonchalant but not without a touch of disdain. "Your funeral. Good luck, little girl." With a final nod, his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, as if trying to convey a silent message. "Don''t let anyone say I didn''t offer." With that, he turned and melded into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, leaving me alone, my heart pounding against my ribcage, the weight of my choices and their potential repercussions heavy on my shoulders. ¡®It¡¯s not like I even have any credits to offer anyway¡­¡¯ I mused, as I tried regaining my composure. ¡®There¡¯s no way I can trust anyone around here. Who knows if that person had even helped me out and wouldn¡¯t have just led me down some dark alleyway to kill me.¡¯ With my combat knife tucked back into its sheath, I once again began to navigate towards the Downpour''s known location. The haunting echoes of the wounded gang members reverberated in my ears as I passed by¡ªpleas for assistance, the harrowing sounds of pain and distress. Disturbingly, a swarm of emaciated children had, seemingly out of nowhere, already begun to descend upon the lifeless forms, rapidly stripping them of clothing, gear, and any valuables, their actions reminiscent of a pack of rats finding a fresh feast. ¡®Just keep moving, Sera. Don''t fixate, don''t engage. Just keep moving,¡¯ I chanted internally, using it as a mantra to shield myself from the sights around me. I did my utmost to blend in, maintaining a steady pace down the hallway, which bore an uncanny resemblance to a dystopian street. Guided by the map in my cerebral interface, I focused intently on my objective, willing myself to stay on course and ignore everything else around me.
At last, shortly after navigating one of the 21st floor''s bustling crossroads, maintaining a low profile with swift, purposeful strides, the anticipated System Notification flashed before my eyes.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: [Stealth] Skill has reached Level 1.
Immediately, the G.E.M.A. System''s influx of data surged through my neural pathways like an electric current, overlaying my perception with a cascade of new knowledge. The [Stealth] Skill''s foundational level was meticulously detailed, providing a comprehensive guide on the art of remaining unseen, similar to the inaugural level of [Cooking]. I barely made it in time to reach the closest wall, before I lost my balance and had to lean heavily against it, to not simply topple over. Key principles of stealth, from leveraging shadows to understanding the acoustics of varying environments, were broken down for me in vivid detail. Techniques on maintaining a low profile in both urban and natural settings, pinpointing hidden routes that avoided common sightlines, and recognizing the telltale signs of someone being observant flooded my consciousness. Beyond that, instructions on proper breathing to minimise sound, adjusting one¡¯s weight distribution to decrease footstep noise, and even the most efficient ways to clamber over obstacles without drawing attention were presented. As this torrent of knowledge integrated into my mind, I could physically feel the difference in how my body began to move as well, as the artificial muscle memory provided by the Skill was integrated. The awkward shuffle I had adopted in my previous attempt at stealth was replaced with a fluid, cat-like grace. Each footstep was softer, calculated, making minimal sound on the rough concrete of the 21st floor. My posture adjusted subtly, hunching in a way that made me less noticeable while also optimising my mobility. The newfound muscle memory was astonishing in its efficiency, instantly highlighting the glaring inadequacies of my earlier attempts to remain hidden. ¡®Fuck me, these first levels are brutal¡­ but I¡¯d trade them for nothing in the world. Holy shit this is amazing,¡¯ I thought to myself as my vision and balance returned, the Skill¡¯s knowledge downloading trickled to a stop as it had granted me all the knowledge it could provide for the moment. I quickly detached myself from the wall I''d been leaning against, keen to avoid drawing any prolonged attention. Immediately, I was struck by the newfound finesse with which I moved. While I was no ninja, at least not yet, the proficiency with which I now navigated was remarkable. Despite the sparse cover offered by the drab neon and concrete streets of the 21st floor, I felt a newfound confidence in my ability to blend seamlessly with the bustling crowd and tread vastly more silently with every step. The confidence with which I moved suffused my entire being, as the earlier missteps seemed to rapidly disappear in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. ¡®This Skill will be invaluable going forward. I wonder if I can train [Stealth] during my morning routine¡­?¡¯ I pondered with an internal hum of excitement. ¡®Maybe couple it with [Athletics]? Can I train [Stealth] while running around the 43rd floor? Definitely worth a try!¡¯ Continuing to make my way through the 21st floor, I passed by quite a few larger dive-bars, stores and brothels, especially when compared to the ones I had seen earlier on the floor, as I seemed to be nearing something like a central-square of sorts. ¡®This should be King¡¯s Square, according to the map Mr. Shori gave me. That means that the Downpour is closeby. Time to deliver this fucking data-shard and get the hell out of this accursed floor, Sera!¡¯ The resolve in my thoughts echoed with urgency and a dash of impatience to conclude my errand, wanting nothing more than to collect the System rewards and head back home. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. As I ventured further into King''s Square, my map became less of a guide and more of a suggestion. The sprawling street-bazaar unfurled before me like a tapestry woven from chaos and commerce. Canopies of stalls clashed with the harsh neon glow above, casting a kaleidoscope of shadows over the dense crowd. The air thrummed with the cacophony of barter and banter, underpinned by the incessant hum of generator units powering the stalls. Everywhere I looked, the visage of the Clawed Beasts glared back at me. Their emblem, an ambiguous snarl of a creature with features hinting at a bear, or perhaps some breed of feral canine, was a riddle in itself. The image was stark, set against a canvas of deep blues and vibrant yellows, creating a visual clamour that demanded attention as much as the shouting vendors and the crush of the crowd. The colours adorning practically every stall were not just a warning but a declaration of dominance. The Clawed Beasts had sunk their claws deep into the fabric of King''s Square, and they wanted everyone to know it. Vendors hawked questionable goods and contraband tech with the same breath, their pitches vying for attention over the growl of punk music blasting from unseen speakers. Gang members, marked with tattoos that snaked up their necks and disappeared beneath tattered jackets, prowled the square, their eyes sharp and assessing, searching for either opportunity or trouble¡ªI couldn¡¯t quite tell. Taking a deep breath, I melded into the stream of humanity, my [Stealth] Skill subtly shifting my posture and gait to blend in seamlessly. I ducked under awnings crammed with electronic trinkets and sidestepped street food vendors pushing carts laden with sizzling concoctions that filled the air with exotic, sometimes acrid, scents. My eyes scanned above the sea of heads, searching for any signage or landmark that hinted at the Downpour''s location. Here, beneath the omnipresent watch of the Clawed Beasts'' symbols, I was just another lowly denizen among many.
After what felt like a zany, over-the-top trek straight out of some cyberpunk noir, I stumbled upon a neon-sign, bathed in a soothing light-blue. It was a cityscape, but here''s the kicker: The whole thing was drenched in cascading animated, holographic rain. And there it was, plain as day, "The Downpour" written in flashy letters below. Honestly, that sign? Absolute chef''s kiss. It was like a breath of fresh, albeit neon-lit, air amidst all the chaos. My first assumption had been that I''d be walking into some sketchy hand-off in a dimly lit alley, but seeing such pzazz in their branding? Well, maybe, just maybe, if the Clawed Beasts splashed out this much on their signage, there was a glimmer of hope I wouldn''t vanish in some gloomy nook. Worst case scenario? A dramatic exit via bullet, blade, or an overly tight hug in some ritzy cyberpunk setting. ''Silver linings and all that jazz,'' I chuckled to myself, the irony not lost on me. I tried to wash away some of my jitters with a sprinkle of that dark humour as I neared the place where the whole handoff was supposedly set to go down. I seriously hoped that Mr. Shori hadn¡¯t just sent me to die. Very much hoped so. Parking myself in front of The Downpour, I feigned interest in the neighbouring market stall, all the while my side-eye game was strong, scoping out the entrance. I had to gather some more intel before I decided to step into the maw of the beast. Hovering near the entrance, I kept a vigilant eye on the massive double-doors, the only visible gateway to whatever thrived inside The Downpour. The building¡¯s entrance was smartly set back into the structure itself, creating a covered alcove that functioned as a makeshift lobby, making an additional door redundant. Two behemoths of men¡ªmore machine than flesh¡ªstood as living sentinels, their selected weapons, heavy-duty rods with a sheen that caught the flickering lights from above, rested in their hands, an overt display of power and control. At the reception, a woman perched like a bird of paradise, her beauty no accident but a cleverly crafted lure. Her role was clear: To charm and disarm any incoming clientele. Her smile was the bait, and the establishment behind her, the trap. As I pretended to inspect the nearby stall''s oddities¡ªshoddy trinkets and broken tech that spoke of the 21st floor¡¯s nature¡ªI was patient. I knew a break in the facade would come, and sure enough, it very much did. The double-doors swung open as three heavily inebriated patrons stumbled out, their laughter and slurred words a momentary soundtrack to the scene. In the scant seconds before the doors swung shut, my eyes pierced the interior¡¯s veil. The Downpour was a den of neon-lit debauchery, true to its name. The scent of torrents of cheap synth-alc and the unmistakable thumps of bass bled into the open air. Inside, dim lighting played off the gloss of polished surfaces and the leather of well-worn seats, casting a soft glow on faces lost in the night¡¯s embrace. My glimpse revealed quick flashes of the clientele, a motley crew bound by the desire to escape reality. Cyber-augmented hustlers shared drinks with out-of-towners looking for a taste of the infamous floor¡¯s nightlife. In the heart of it all, the bar stood as a bastion of sin, manned by a burly looking bartender whose cybernetic limbs danced a bartender''s ballet, pouring, shaking, serving, all with the cold efficiency of a machine. As the door heaved back into place, sealing the raucous laughter and the fragmented beats behind it, a smirk tugged at my lips. This was exactly the kind of joint I had hoped it would be. ¡®A typical ganger club. I can work with this. I¡¯ve seen quite literally hundreds of hours of different creators spend their time in these. They all share the same basic rules¡ªrespect the gang, respect the gangers and might makes right. As long as I don¡¯t step on anybody¡¯s toes, I should be able to get in, do the drop, get out. Easy peasy,¡¯ I internally hyped myself up. I paused momentarily to ensure the name of my elusive contact was etched firmly in my memory, inhaling a deep, steadying breath before stepping from the seclusion of the throng. My strides toward The Downpour''s entrance were deliberate, no longer shrouded in the subtlety of stealth¡ªit was time to face the music, quite literally. I braced myself as I neared the entrance, fully expecting to be intercepted by the towering guards. To my bewilderment, they remained statuesque, granting me unobstructed passage. A raised eyebrow was my only acknowledgment of their indifference. ''Well, that was anticlimactically easy,'' I mused, the notion floating through my mind as I drew closer to the receptionist, whose allure was only amplified up close. The neon-crimson sheen of her techweave hair provided a stark contrast to her alabaster skin, making her a radiant beacon in the shadowy ambience. ''Let''s tackle the true test, then,'' I silently prepped myself. As if on cue, the receptionist greeted me with a cordiality that seemed to stretch from her lips to her poised posture. "Hello there. Welcome to ¡®The Downpour¡¯," she began, her voice a melodic chime that somehow cut through the background cacophony. "Since it appears you''re new here, take a moment to acquaint yourself with our guidelines. We''d hate for you to stumble into misfortune simply from a lack of awareness. And should you be carrying any weaponry of Tier 3 or above, I''ll kindly ask you to entrust them to my care. They''ll be securely stored, for your well-being and that of all our patrons," she continued, her smile unwavering, her eyes a mirror to the establishment''s dual nature¡ªwelcoming yet watchful. "Should you need further assistance, please, let me be your guide," she concluded, gesturing gracefully to the rules displayed nearby. "Ah¡­ great. Thanks a bunch," I managed, my voice carrying a note of surprise at the breezy admission protocol. Was my youthful appearance rendering me invisible to the usual scrutiny? Or was the establishment''s policy to wave everyone through without much fuss? Shrugging off the ambiguity, I sauntered over to the guidelines, skimming through them with a practised eye. ''No offing folks indoors, disputes to be settled outside, and the gang''s word is law¡ªpretty standard protocol for a place like this,'' I assessed mentally, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the receptionist. "Got it, all rules accounted for." ¡°Wonderful,¡± the receptionist replied, her smile remaining as steadfast as if it were part of her job description. I hung there for a beat or two, expecting some further exchange, an invitation perhaps, but nada. She just stood there, the picture of professional amiability. A bit perplexed, I ventured, "Uh... so, I just head on in? Or¡­? Is there anything else to take care of?" My own question felt as clunky as the massive doors I was about to traverse, and I could feel my cheeks flame with a sudden self-conscious flush. The receptionist merely gestured towards the doors, her poise unbroken. "Should you desire entry, please proceed," she said, her arm sweeping in a welcoming arc towards the entrance. "Right-o, good to know!" I shot back, mustering every scrap of my rapidly waning suaveness as I made a beeline for the beckoning doors. My once-cool composure had frayed, leaving me feeling as smooth as a rookie on their first gig as I pushed open one of the doors and entered into the Downpour¡¯s belly. As the door swung open with a weight that suggested solid metal, I stepped into the Downpour, a world away from the cacophony of King¡¯s Square. The atmosphere hit me first¡ªa cocktail of synthetic tobacco, the tang of spilled neon-coloured cocktails, and a subtle undercurrent of engine grease that spoke of the clientele''s potential day jobs. My senses were immediately ensnared by the pervasive hum of conversation peppered with gruff laughter, the kind that''s seen its share of smoke-filled rooms and late nights. The interior was an homage to typical 90s cyberpunk aesthetic¡ªneon signs in lurid greens and pinks clashed with the ambient blue lighting that seemed to seep out from every corner, casting everyone in a hue that made the place feel underwater. The air was laced with the soft thrum of bass from the background music, a fusion of electronic beats and the occasional string of a cyber-synth, pulsing through the place like a heartbeat. I navigated through the clusters of patrons¡ªhackers, runners, and the muscle for hire¡ªmingling with the off-duty gangers sporting the Clawed Beasts insignia with a mix of pride and challenge. The club wasn¡¯t cramped, but it buzzed with the energy of a hive. There was an undercurrent of tension, sure, but it was the kind that said ''we''re all here to relax, just don''t step on any toes.'' The tables were well-spaced, crafted from what looked to be repurposed industrial parts, their surfaces etched with the scars of countless previous encounters. Overhead, fans whirred lazily, pushing around the heavy air, laden with the scent of fried street food that made my stomach rumble in unexpected appreciation. I felt the floor vibrate slightly under my boots, the pulse of the city''s underground lifeblood¡ªa mix of music and machinery¡ªa reminder that this club was more than a drinking hole; it was a sanctuary for those who lived in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, I let the club''s ambiance wash over me, a strange sense of calm settling in my chest. It was a well-oiled retreat, the kind of place where a deal could be made over a drink, or a feud settled with a handshake or a shot¡ªwhichever made the most sense at the time. Something that I greatly preferred to the myriad of alternatives that could have awaited me inside the club, considering the nature of the mission I had been sent on. With a ''let''s get this over with'' huff, I tried to channel my inner James Bond. ''Alright, so I didn¡¯t get a secret code or a mysterious, shadowy corner to meet in, but c¡¯mon, how hard could it be to spot one person in a bar?¡¯ I mused, propping myself against a pillar that seemed like it had seen better days. A lone wolf in a sea of predators, that was me. Just with a lot less growling and way more awkward fumbling. I¡¯d been given the ol'' "you''ll recognize them when you see them" spiel based on the lack of information I had, complete with a vague description that could match half the joint¡¯s patrons. Not exactly top-tier spycraft. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Go around whispering code words? Flash an exaggerated wink and hope they got the memo? Weighing the pros and cons, wandering around aimlessly seemed a good way to get my non-existent drink spiked¡ªor worse. But asking outright? It was like holding a neon sign screaming, ''Hey, I''m the clueless outsider!'' But, as luck would have it, the universe seemed keen on intervening. The bartender, all shiny chrome arms and a "don''t mess with me" vibe, flagged me down. I did the classic ''who, me?'' routine, half-expecting to find some celeb or VIP behind me. But nope, just a wall and the undeniable truth that I stood out like a fish in a tree. ¡®Goddammit, Sera. Play it cool,¡¯ I silently pep-talked myself, trying to stroll up to the bar without tripping over my own feet. The warm blush on my cheeks? Definitely the lighting, not embarrassment. Not at all. I arched a brow, my intrigue piqued, as the bartender leaned in. "Vega''s waiting for ya," he said, nodding toward the shadow-draped back of the bar where mystery and possibly, my contact, lingered. Talk about a twist; I hadn''t even dropped the name yet, and here he was, mentioning Vega like it was on the daily specials board. Had Mr. Shori beat me to the punch with a heads-up? Either way, the breadcrumb trail had just become a cake walk, as that was the exact name mentioned in the intel that Mr. Shori had given me. "Thanks, mate!" I tossed a grateful grin at the bartender, who was already in the midst of a circus act with a myriad of bottles. My fingers itched with the memory of my own juggling prowess¡ªone of the Skills now collecting dust in the ''unused talent'' section of my brain. At least for now. ''Next time,'' I vowed silently. So off I sauntered, weaving through clusters of patrons with the finesse of a cat burglar¡ªor so I told myself¡ª, keeping my eyes peeled for this Vega character. Most of the crowd parted like I had an invisible shield around me¡ªthank you, personal space bubble! Just when I thought I''d have to start tapping shoulders, a hand with fingerless gloves appeared out of nowhere, flicking in my direction like I was being summoned to the world''s most clandestine book club. Without a word, I was ushered into a secluded alcove, cosily insulated from the buzz of the bar and the rush of the crowd. "So this is Vega''s den, huh?" I mumbled under my breath, sliding into the seat with a curiosity that could give a cat a run for its money. I sized up my new surroundings - low light, privacy, and the kind of vibe that screamed ''top secret talks happen here.'' Perfect. Just what I was hoping for. The moment my gaze connected with Vega''s, however, I froze dead in my tracks and my blood ran cold. A broad grin carved its way across the man¡¯s face, while two glowing neon-violet skulls, floating in warm amber oceans, stared back at me¡­ Chapter 23 - Vega I practically jabbed a finger in the man¡¯s direction, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice or my manners in check. "It''s you!" With a chuckle that came out smoother than I expected, he lounged comfortably, the worn leather embracing him like an old friend. "Indeed, it''s me," he replied, the amusement clear in his voice, as if we were sharing a private joke between old pals. My thoughts were in a tailspin. ''He had to have tailed me, right? Wasn''t that too much of a coincidence?'' It dawned on me, this man was indeed the contact I was supposed to meet here. Had he deduced my purpose from our unexpected encounter and shadowed me to this very spot? Or had he already been following me since the moment I had left Mr. Shori¡¯s stall? What did I have to lose at this juncture? I was already in too deep. "Did... did you tail me?" I ventured, half-expecting to be met with a cryptic evasion, my voice hitching momentarily, betraying my anxiety. He regarded me with an expression that was an open book for a moment, his eyes thoughtful, then with a gentle nod, he confirmed, "Yes. Briefly. After our earlier brush, it seemed prudent to monitor your progress, we were moving in the same direction, after all. You adapted to stealthing around the floor quite aptly as well. Colour me impressed. And then, spotting you here, in the heart of the Downpour? I simply couldn''t resist extending an invitation. My apologies for being so forward." His voice was a curious mix of gravitas and fluidity, disarmingly charming, yet laced with an undertone that suggested he missed little to nothing. It was the kind of voice that could probably recite the evening news and somehow make it sound like an invitation to an adventure. Completely sideswiped by Vega''s abrupt introduction into my already hectic day, I was left scrambling for a game plan. It all seemed like an elaborate ruse, but to what end? My mind raced with possibilities, none of them particularly comforting. "Have a seat, will ya?" Vega invited a hint of hospitality in his tone as he motioned to the seat I''d unwittingly vacated in my surprise. I quickly reclaimed my spot, feeling a blush bloom on my cheeks. ''Smooth move, Sera,¡¯ I chided myself internally for the lapse in my attempted cool exterior. "How about a drink on me?" he offered, his fingers drumming lightly on the tabletop. At his touch, a colourful array of drink options sprung up in a vibrant holographic display. Caught off-guard, I blurted the first fact that seemed relevant to the situation. "Ehh... I¡¯m 15?" The words tumbled out before I could rein them in, and I watched as a flicker of amusement¡ªor was it surprise?¡ªcrossed Vega''s features. He cast a cursory glance around us, and for a second, I wondered if he''d mistaken me for someone older. ''No way he thought I was anything but a kid, right?'' The thought bounced around my mind as I took in his searching look. Then Vega''s response hit me like a rogue wave. "Oh, my bad. Just checking for anyone who might¡¯ve cared about that," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I thought I was offering a drink, not asking for your ID. Let''s keep this on track, professional-like, agreed? We can get to know each other later. I just find your presence here intriguing, nothing more." I sat there, a mix of irritation and admiration brewing inside. He''d just pulled a slick, real-life version ''who asked?'' without even breaking stride. Touche, Vega, touche. The worst part? I couldn¡¯t even blame Vega; his reaction was spot on for Neo Avalis, where the concept of a legal drinking age was as foreign as a quiet day in the city, so me being 15 really had just been a random fact that had no correlation to anything here, that I had simply blurted out in response to being asked what kind of drink I wanted. ¡®Sera, what the fuck are you doing? Can you get your shit together for just a single minute here?¡¯ I quickly chose a random drink off the menu, unwilling to open my mouth for any additional stupid remarks. I wasn¡¯t a fan of alcohol and didn¡¯t intend on drinking any, but I definitely did not feel confident enough in my current self to actually articulate this stance to Vega. As I settled back into my seat, trying to shrink my presence, Vega leaned in, the playful light in his eyes sharpening into something more piercing. "Now, you know who I am. How about a name for you? I can''t keep calling you ''girl'' like you''re some common street rat," he said, his tone teetering between jest and a veiled warning. There it was¡ªthe switch flipped. The jovial, enigmatic contact had the undercurrent of something harder, something that spelled out ''no more games.'' I felt the gravity of the conversation; one wrong word could tip the scales. I was ready for this dance though. I¡¯d rehearsed my steps on the way over, prepped for the inevitable probe into my backstory by whatever contact I had been bound to find here. "The name''s Ela," I responded, a little too sharply. It wasn''t a lie, not entirely. Ela was a fragment of my old gamer tag, a moniker that felt even more like a part of me than my real name¡ªespecially considering that I didn¡¯t even remember that one¡ªand a heck of a lot safer to share. It was nondescript, it carried no baggage, and it wouldn''t lead any curious cats back to my real-life doorstep. A perfect alias to give to a ganger contact. "Ela it is, then," Vega said with a nod, his voice easy but carrying an undertone that meant business. "Didn''t expect to cross paths again so soon, especially not here at The Downpour. You looking to throw in with the Clawed Beasts?" ¡®Right to the heart of the issue, huh? This Vega character really is ruthless. I¡¯m just a 15-year old girl, cut me some slack here!¡¯ The thought of signing up for gang life was laughable. But hey, Neo Avalis played by different rules, and I got that. Gangs here weren¡¯t about dragging people into their ranks unwillingly¡ªif they did, I wouldn¡¯t have accepted Mr. Shori¡¯s task in the first place. Unlike the often ruthless and coercive gangs of old Earth, these ones harkened back to the original idea of gangs as close-knit communities, forged out of necessity in the harsh climate of this dystopian world. In this city, where traditional law enforcement was as reliable as a paper umbrella in a typhoon, gangs carved out order in the chaos. They were the reluctant knights of the realm, offering a semblance of justice and security in territories the police seldom tread. That brand of justice might not always be by the book, but it was better than the complete anarchy that would likely reign without them. However, throwing my lot in with them? That was a hard pass. My independence was non-negotiable¡ªat least, until the day came when it wasn''t, of course. And even then, it''d take a hell of a pitch to get me to consider it. "Join up? Oh. No, thanks. Just passing through on a bit of business," I replied, keeping my tone light but my stance firm. No harm in being clear about where I stood¡ªon my own two feet, thanks very much. Vega''s brows hitched upwards, clearly taken aback by my swift dismissal of gang life. His surprise etched a pause into our conversation, a moment of quiet that seemed to hang between us, slightly awkward as far as I was concerned. This brief interlude was punctuated by the arrival of our drinks, the server deftly placing them on the table, breaking the silence without diminishing the weight of my refusal. The drink that landed in front of me seemed to be a concoction straight out of a mad alchemist''s dream. It was a layered cocktail, vibrant hues of neon green and electric blue swirling into a dance that defied the laws of liquid physics. Tiny bubbles fizzed from the bottom, carrying specks of gold leaf through the liquid, like shooting stars in a glass. I watched, captivated by the miniature galaxy before me, the colours and sparkles a welcome distraction from the otherwise tense atmosphere. A tiny, edible flower perched on the rim, its petals a bright, unnatural pink that caught the light and threw it back with a glimmer. I leaned in to sniff cautiously and was met with a scent that was both sweet and sharp, tickling my nose and making my head pull back a tad. The aroma promised a taste of otherworldly delights or possibly a punch to the senses¡ªI wasn''t quite sure which. Observing the drink in such detail, waiting for Vega to continue our conversation or dismiss my presence, I couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡®Wow, they really know how to put together a show for these drinks, holy fuck.¡¯ Despite my general aversion to alcohol, I couldn¡¯t help but take a miniature sip. Who could fault me for that, really? The thing looked incredible! Taking a tentative sip, the cocktail was a symphony of flavours as complex and surprising as Neo Avalis itself. Initially, the sweetness of the drink was almost overpowering, a sugary rush that hinted at exotic fruits¡ªor rather: The idea of them. It was immediately apparent to me that there were no actual fruits involved, only the chemical mixtures that resembled whatever the inhabitants of this world thought fruits should taste like. But quickly, it gave way to a tangy zing, sharp and refreshing, cutting through the sweetness like a neon light slicing through the city''s smog. The effervescence of the tiny bubbles added a playful note, each one bursting on my tongue, somehow releasing bursts of flavour that were both spicy and cooling. The strange, not-gold flakes added a luxurious texture, dissolving almost instantly as they met my palate. The pink, edible flower, once consumed, lent an herbal aftertaste that grounded the drink''s otherwise ethereal qualities, leaving a gentle, lingering note. Honestly? I was straight up stunned. This was by far the best drink I had ever tasted, in either life. Still not a fan of the alcoholic tang that could be found deep inside the flavour profile of the cosmic cocktail, but if I had to drink some alcohol? I¡¯d probably choose this one. Vega, nursing a drink that could only be described as ''spectacularly mundane'' compared to my cosmic beverage, took a casual swig before shattering the silence. "Shame, that. You struck me as a potential recruit with some real spark. But hey, what can ya do?" He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile. "If the winds change and you find yourself looking for a bit of camaraderie, just give me a shout. I''d be more than happy to vouch for ya." His generous proposition caught me off guard. Our encounters hadn''t exactly showcased me in the ''cool, calm, and collected'' light. The first time he''d seen me, I was a hot mess¡ªa puking, jittery mess at that. And yet, here he was, making offers as if I was some diamond in the rough. It was... flattering? No, scratch that¡ªit was as bizarre as a cat walking on its hind legs. Why the eagerness to recruit me? It was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, sprinkled with a healthy dose of suspicion. To probe or not to probe¡ªthat was the burning question. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I mean, Vega must¡¯ve seen something in me, right? Some hidden ganger potential that was keeping me on the safe side of his intentions. But what if he was wrong? What if asking him to spill the beans revealed that I was about as ready for gang life as a kitten is for a dogfight? I really didn''t fancy the idea of carving up anyone over a spat about gang colours or turf or... whatever else sparked the street chaos I¡¯d seen earlier. Those glimpses of gang violence hadn''t exactly been particularly instructional. So I simply decided to play it cool, keeping my cards close to my chest. No need to tip him off that the most ''gang-ready'' thing about me was apparently my ability to pick a random drink from a menu. "Will do," I shot back, mustering a tone that was even and calm. Vega let out a huff that straddled the line between amusement and exasperation. "Alright then, Ela. Seems I''ve hijacked enough of your time," he said with a grin that suggested he knew more than he let on. "You came here on an errand, right? Since you¡¯re here at The Downpour and you''re not signing up for the Clawed Beasts fan club, I figure you¡¯re here to finish your delivery. You¡¯re free to go. Just remember where to find me if you ever want to take me up on that offer." Wait, that was it? I was free to go? No cryptic warnings, no veiled threats, or trying to entice me with tales of gang grandeur? I was all geared up for a verbal tussle, ready to dodge recruitment pitches like they were laser beams. But here I was, being shown the door with no strings attached. It was like preparing for a boss battle and then finding out the boss was on vacation. I couldn''t help the mischievous spark that flickered to life within me, however. This was my shot, a golden ticket to flip the script on the mysterious, infuriatingly charismatic Vega. A chance to take the lead in this odd dance of ours for the first time. I gave Vega a nod, thanking him for the drink that I''d barely sipped and the chat that had my head spinning more than any alcohol could. I stood, distancing myself by a mere step, then whirled around and reclaimed my seat with the flair of a stage performer at the climax of their act. "Well, would you look at that? Fancy bumping into you here, Mr. Vega," I said, slapping on my best impression of a business deal going down in an old-timey flick, mixed with the usual air and voice I used for Valeria. "Ela''s the name, and I''ve got a little something from Mr. Shori of the 16th. For your hands only, they said," I continued, my face a mask of earnest professionalism. Smoothly, like I was pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I produced the data-shard case from my jacket and set it down on the table with a flourish. Leaning back, I gestured grandly towards it, the universal sign for ''the ball''s in your court''. My internal monologue was having a field day with this one. ''And for my next trick, I''ll disappear without joining your gang.'' Vega''s reaction to my impromptu performance was a beat of pure, unfiltered confusion. His eyes widened a fraction, a perfect picture of a man who thought he¡¯d seen all the tricks only to find a new one up my sleeve. Then came the moment¡ªthe reveal of the data-shard case and the name-drop of Mr. Shori. It was like watching the dawn of understanding break across his face, followed by a sudden, boisterous laugh that bounced off the walls of the Downpour. He threw his head back, his mirth genuine and unrestrained, the tension melting away like ice in the neon glow. "Ha! That''s quite the act, Ela," he managed between chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "I''ve got to hand it to ya. I didn¡¯t see that coming. And here I was, worried Mr. Shori might leave me hanging¡­ Yet, at the end of the day, I was already talking to Mr. Shori¡¯s proxy all along. Fantastic." The sound of his laughter was infectious, and despite my best efforts, a grin found its way onto my face. It felt good, ridiculously so, like I''d managed to win a round of chess against a grandmaster. Seeing Vega¡ªa guy who probably played the game of shadows better than most¡ªlaughing at a twist I''d thrown? Priceless. It was a small victory, sure, but hey, against a ganger of Vega''s apparent calibre, I''d take what I could get. "Yeah, I believe that''s the intel on our friends with a penchant for crimson, I assume?" Vega confirmed with a hint of intrigue as he took the case into his hands. ¡°I believe so,¡± I simply replied with a nod. "Shori kept it close to the chest then? Just the bare bones, huh?" His tone suggested he was no stranger to operating on a need-to-know basis. "That''s about the gist of it," I concurred, watching as Vega''s gaze intensified, his eyes briefly flaring a warning shade of red¡ªa telltale sign of cybernetic activity, specifically one that generated a lot of heat. He was likely scanning the contents, verifying its authenticity or searching for hidden traps with some Quick-Hacks. As his tech worked its silent magic, he threw a question my way, "How''d you get roped into this high-stakes delivery game anyway? You''re not one of Shori''s regulars at the shop, and you don''t strike me as family. What''s your angle here?" I could tell he was piecing together his own mental profile of me. I filed away the tidbit that he and Shori were more than just acquaintances for later contemplation. ''Vega''s probably one to keep tabs on everyone and everything,'' I mused inwardly, already anticipating our paths crossing again in the future. "Oh, you know, just the way the world turns," I responded with a casual shrug, giving him the ol'' quid pro quo spiel. "Mr. Shori threw me a solid, so I''m returning the favour¡ªscratch my back, I scratch yours, and all that jazz." The words came out smooth and practised because, in essence, they were the truth. Tacking on "and he pays me," felt like sprinkling a bit of street-wise seasoning on the tale. Because in Neon Dragons, free lunches were about as common as unicorns, and debts were always tallied with interest. It wasn''t a deception, just a savvy addition to solidify my cover story. "Yeah, you got that right," Vega agreed with a chuckle that rumbled from his chest, the sound rich with the wisdom of the streets. He popped the shard into his data-slot with the ease of someone who''s done it a thousand times, his expression betraying nothing until the data passed muster. In the lull that followed, as Vega combed through the shard''s secrets, his face cracked into a grin that spoke volumes. Whatever he saw there, it was the sort of jackpot that could turn any ganger''s head. Then, with a theatrical clap that echoed over the murmur of the bar, he removed the shard, his jubilation palpable. "You''ve hit the motherlode for us, Ela," he announced, his usual cool demeanour washed away by a wave of excitement. "This little gem is a game changer. Shori''s gonna get what''s due, no doubt about it. You''ve knocked this one out of the park! Consider your delivery mission a full-blooded success!" I was floored. Whatever was encoded on that shard must have been the equivalent of a winning lottery ticket in the gang world. ''Shori trusted me, a near-stranger, with this kind of power play? That''s... a level of confidence I''m not sure I deserve. Or is in any way prudent to begin with. I need to talk some sense into Mr. Shori, for sure¡­'' Vega leaned in, his next words icing the proverbial cake. "With the edge this gives us, you''ve got the Clawed Beasts in your corner. Need a favour? Some intel or muscle? You call me. We definitely owe ya one for this. Could¡¯ve easily sold out Shori and made bank if ya brought this to the other side." His eyes sparked yellow, and suddenly, his contact was nestled among my list like a VIP pass to the underbelly of Neo Avalis. There I was, a nobody from the upper floors, and now I''d somehow snagged myself a heavyweight contact in the Clawed Beasts. Talk about levelling up! This morning¡¯s agenda definitely didn¡¯t include becoming a made woman in gangland politics. My Ego Attribute, bless its digital heart, didn''t miss a beat. It steadied the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to knock me off my game, keeping me laser-focused on Vega and the potentially life-altering dialogue unfolding between us. "Hey, I''m not one to leave a tab open," I quipped with a smirk. "Tempting as it was to cash in the shard for a quick buck, it wouldn¡¯t have squared with Shori. You''ve got to stand by some principles, right?" There was no backing down now, not when I was this deep in. Honestly, I hadn''t had a clue about the shard''s value, but betraying Mr. Shori? Not my style. I''ve always put stock in the whole ''you scratch my back, I''ll scratch yours'' philosophy. It was a big deal in my previous life, and I wasn''t about to toss it aside just because Neo Avalis played fast and loose with the concept of honour. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but some things were worth hanging on to¡ªat least in my eyes. "I highly respect that attitude. I really do. It''s rare, and it''d serve ya well with us," Vega said, his admiration ringing clear as a bell in his tone. It looked like I''d managed to snag a sliver of respect from him. "Ya sure you won''t reconsider? Someone with your principles is a rare find in the Beasts'' den." But I was resolute, ready to parry his offer once more. "I''m flattered, really, but I''m not cut out for the gang life," I countered, my refusal firm but friendly. This was the kind of lasers I had prepared myself to dodge earlier¡ªthe boss had finally arrived! "Alright then, if that''s how you want it," he conceded, a touch of disappointment lacing his words, though it was quickly overshadowed by the buzz from his recent data-shard jackpot. "Guess it''s time for you to head on back up the elevator shaft, Ela. You''ve completed your mission. I''ll give Shori the good news the old-fashioned way. And as for me?" He grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Let''s just say my schedule just unexpectedly filled up." With that, Vega downed his drink in one smooth motion, slapped a credstick on the table for the tab, and offered a casual three-fingered salute. He sauntered away, leaving me alone with the remains of my fizzy, galaxy-in-a-glass drink, and a head full of ''what-just-happened?'' thoughts. So, that was that. With a final, contemplative sip of the, mercifully small, cosmic concoction¡ªbecause let''s face it, ditching a drink that''s been settled for is practically criminal in Neo Avalis¡ªI stood up. The drink wasn''t half bad, and the novelty of it was a perk, but my heart still lay with a good ol'' glass of water. Pushing back from the table, I navigated my way through the throng of the Downpour and out into the comparative quiet of the square, aiming for the nearest elevator. True to the Clawed Beasts'' style, the way to the elevators was clearly marked with their unmistakable insignia¡ªa touch of organisational flair that other floors could definitely take note of. Choosing the 32nd floor as my next stop was a random shot in the dark, a little detour to throw off any would-be tails. The relief of leaving the 21st floor behind was like a physical weight off my shoulders, and I let out a long, heavy sigh as the elevator doors closed¡ªa breath I didn''t realise I''d been holding. The exhaustion hit me then, a tidal wave of fatigue. The adrenaline of dodging gang scuffles and navigating underworld politics with Vega had kept me running. Now, the day''s events started to take their toll. The combination of the fear, the walking¡ªso much walking¡ªand the high-stakes meetup had drained my batteries to the last dregs. I was running on empty, and the comfy confines of home couldn''t come soon enough¡­
- PoV: Vega - No sooner had Vega''s silhouette merged with the shadows than he was on his cerebral interface, pulling up a contact with practised ease. A familiar grunt greeted him, the kind that spoke of youth not quite spent on the grindstone of life. "Jade, I need eyes on the ground. Get over here. Now," he commanded, his voice all business. "Whoa, take a breather, boss. On my way," came Jade''s unruffled response. "What''s gotten under your skin?" "Ela, or so she claims. That''s the name you''re looking for. She''s a complete blank slate, and it''s bugging me. She''s still at The Downpour. Deets incoming. You know why you''re the one for the job, right?" Vega''s voice was steady, but the undercurrent of urgency was unlikely to be lost on Jade. A pause stretched out, filled only by the digital whisper of data transfer. "Got it. Not thrilled about tailing a kid, but I see the point. And boss, are you telling me this street urchin''s got you turning in circles? That''s a new one," Jade quipped, her tone a mix of scepticism and reluctant respect. Vega was the Clawed Beasts'' own human lie detector, a skill that had carved him a niche within the gang. His knack for deciphering motives and predicting actions was legendary, saving the gang more trouble than anyone cared to admit. That a seemingly ordinary girl had slipped past his radar was enough to make even Jade, with all her street-hardened cynicism, take note. Vega was no stranger to the oddities of human behaviour, but this girl, Ela, was truly a puzzle that resisted solving. Initially, he had pegged her for just another sheltered flower from the upper floors, especially after witnessing her gut reaction to street skirmishes. But then she had flashed that combat knife with a poise that spoke of training and nerve, a stark contrast to the girl who had looked like she was about to pass out over her own vomit. Their first exchange was riddled with incongruities as well. She had seemed like a deer caught in headlights, yet she¡¯d stubbornly declined his aid, plunging deeper into the den of the 21st floor with a determination that hinted at more than just naivet¨¦. The moment that really threw him, though, was at the crossroads. One second she was there, a beacon of awkwardness, and the next, after a momentary distraction on his part, she''d vanished like a ghost. Up until then, her attempts at staying under the radar had been clumsy at best, downright comical¡ªor so he had believed. But she must have been watching him, somehow, mirroring his vigilance, biding her time to throw off her fake act and evade his continued surveillance with the proficiency of a master. That skill, that moment of her disappearing act, it was a move he''d only seen from seasoned Operators, with a capital ''O''. It seemed this Ela was playing at a level he hadn''t expected, and it was that realisation that had him calling Jade. If anyone could unravel this mystery, it was her. Vega''s instincts were rarely off, and everything about his interaction with Ela at The Downpour had set them tingling. Everything about her screamed that she was playing a part. It was a part she played well, but not well enough to fool an old hand like Vega. She was an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, and cloaked in a hoodie of mystery. Dangerous? Possibly. Intriguing? Absolutely. "Jade, treat her like she''s as dangerous as I am. Do not underestimate her, and whatever you do, do not let her spot you," he instructed with a seriousness that underscored the gravity he placed on this task. He needed Jade to be thorough, discreet, and above all, cautious. ¡°Your level, Vega?! Fuck me¡­ Are you sure I¡¯m the right person for this?¡± The uncertainty in Jade''s voice was as clear as daylight. The prospect of tailing someone who might be as adept as Vega himself at the cloak-and-dagger stuff was clearly daunting, even for a prodigy like Jade. "I¡¯m certain. You''re the one for the job," Vega reassured her. Ruby had been a solid choice as well, but she wouldn''t blend in¡ªtoo old. Jade, with her youth and wit, was the perfect candidate. "You''ve got this. I''m counting on you," He said with finality, before ending the call. As the call ended, Vega was left with the silence of his own contemplation. He didn''t doubt Jade''s capabilities; her track record spoke volumes about her proficiency. She was his eyes and ears now, and if there was anything to unearth about Ela, Jade would dig it up. Vega was certain of it. Jade would unravel the mystery of Ela, and he would be waiting, ready to act on whatever she discovered¡­ Chapter 24 - The List Back on the 43rd floor, I had recovered just enough of my mental faculties to remember to inform Mr. Shori of the mission¡¯s success. I sent him a quick message via my cerebral interface reading, [Mr. Shori, delivery completed successfully. If anyone asks about me, I¡¯m Ela. Please use that name for me from today onwards.] I figured that covering my bases like that would be prudent. Vega was undoubtedly going to talk to Mr. Shori about me showing up at the Downpour, so before the ganger had a chance to get him to sing, I had to level the playing field. Minutes later, I finally heard the welcoming beep of the biometric lock disengaging at the door to my home. I practically stumbled into the apartment, my legs barely able to keep me upright from the vast amount of workout they had gotten today. ¡®Next time, I¡¯ll take a bit of a rest before going on a mission like that¡­ Not smart to do a full workout at the start of the day and then also commit to such a ludicrous request,¡¯ I thought, trying to distract myself from the immense exhaustion I felt. I beelined it for Gabriel and my room, making sure to get inside quietly and pass by the still sleeping Gabriel before throwing off my clothes, putting on my basic PJs and hopping into my own bed. I immediately punched in a full 8 hours of rest into the Rest Function and confirmed.
My eyes fluttered open with their usual abruptness, my earlier exhaustion having given way to the typical feeling of complete and utter confusion that came with the instant-sleep of the Rest Function.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
¡®Haaa, I really needed that,¡¯ I sighed internally, feeling like I had downright been reborn with the way my entire body felt pristine once again. It was such a stark difference to my earlier state of pure and utter exhaustion, that I couldn¡¯t help but savour the feeling of just laying in my bed for a few extra minutes. As I was already lazing around the bed, I figured that checking through the stored up System Notifications was a good idea, there was bound to be quite a few. ¡®And I still have the Task Rewards to claim too!¡¯ Pulling up the notifications, I got immediately inundated by a slew of them.
[System]: 600xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. (First time taste bonus.)
¡®Whoa, that¡¯s a massive amount of Attribute experience right there,¡¯ I thought as I took a tally of today¡¯s gains. This was, far and away, the most Attribute experience I had ever gotten. The entire sequence had taken a massive toll on me, of course, but seeing the deluge of experience made it all seem very worth it. Not to mention, at the end of the day, I had managed to successfully complete Mr. Shori¡¯s request. I opened the [Task] screen next.
[Task Completed: Mr. Shori¡¯s Request] [Reward: 250 Character Experience + 1 Skill Point] [Time Left before automatic reward collection: 03:12:54]
I made a mental note as the [Task] screen reminded me of some important aspects of Neon Dragon¡¯s mechanics, ¡®Right, I forgot about the 12-hour timer to claim quest rewards¡­ Not too much of a deal, as it¡¯s fairly generous, but still. Something I should keep in mind for the future.¡¯ With a mental flick of a lever, I claimed the rewards.
[System]: 250xp gained. [System]: 1 Skill Point gained. Skill interface will automatically open to distribute excess points.
It seemed that there was no deferring this type of reward, as the [Skill] interface was opened automatically, with no apparent way to close it again until I had distributed the Skill Point.
Skills - 1 Unspent Skill Point(s) available [Meditation] Level 3 - 3,000 / 3,000xp (Intuition/Ego) [First-Aid] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Juggling] Level 3 - 400 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Blades] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body/Reflex) [Throwing] Level 3 - 0 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Knives] Level 3 - 200 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Programming] Level 1 - 100 / 1,000xp (Intellect) [Netrunning] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (Intellect) [Manifestation] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Intuition) [Cooking] Level 1 - 900 / 1,000xp (Intuition/Tech) [Slicing] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Maid] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Body/Intuition) [Stealth] Level 1 - 600 / 1,000xp (Edge) [Athletics] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body)
I found myself knee-deep in the classic gamer conundrum, strategizing the best way to level up. ''If the game mechanics here are anything like in Neon Dragons, I can''t throw points at maxed-out Skills like [Meditation]... And a Skill Point should net me experience equal to one full level up for its current level, so I gotta aim high to get the most bang for my buck,'' I ruminated. My current Skill roster boasted a few candidates ripe for the point¡ª[Stealth], [Athletics], and [Programming] were all itching for a boost. Each was a solid pick, beckoning with the promise of heightened abilities that I really wanted to get my hands on as soon as possible, yet they all lingered at a meagre Level 1. I inwardly kicked myself. ''If only I had a Level 2 Skill ripe for the upgrade,'' I groused. The idea of forgoing the thrill of a direct level-up from a Level 2 Skill gnawed at me. It felt like picking the slow lane by default. But tossing a precious Skill Point into a Level 1 Skill? That was practically a cardinal sin. That''d be like trading a gourmet burger for a fast-food slider when you''re starving. Even if my Level 3 Skills couldn''t climb higher due to the game''s intricate balance of governing Attributes and Skills, the XP windfall would be the same. After a moment of deliberation, it hit me. ''No point in not boosting the top dogs, right? Unless... a bump to Level 2 in [Stealth], [Athletics], or [Programming] would give me an edge right now.'' A quick scan of my current predicaments, however, told me that wasn''t likely to be the case. Most of my current problems would not be solved by a single Level-Up in any of the aforementioned Skills. This was the same rationale I''d mentally applied to those Neon Dragons content creators I''d watched, facepalming each time they had "wasted" a Skill Point on a lower-level Skill, missing out on a juicy jump in XP. Especially now, when this was my real life and not just a game. Here, XP wasn''t just a number¡ªit was my time, my effort, and let''s be real, my literal sweat and tears. Every point of experience had weight, worth its weight in gold¡ªor in this case, time, sweat and potential near-death experiences. So, the decision boiled down to a choice between [Throwing] and [Knives]. They were the only Level 3 contenders in the lineup that wouldn''t toss a whole heap of XP out the window while promising a neat boost once my Reflex hit the big four¡ªwhich, by all accounts, was on the imminent horizon. Given that [Knives] was already getting a daily workout courtesy of Mr. Shori''s tutelage, it seemed prudent to let it level up the old-fashioned way. That left [Throwing] standing alone in the spotlight, ticking all the right boxes. It sat pretty at Level 3, with a clean slate of 0 / 3000xp, ripe for the full 3,000-point windfall. It didn''t hurt that it was handy in a pinch¡ªthe only real ranged option in my current arsenal¡ªand the prospect of a fresh knowledge download was just icing on the cake. With a decisive mental click, I allocated the Skill Point to [Throwing] and locked it in. ¡®Here''s to hoping I am not going to regret this choice later down the line...¡¯
[System]: 1 Skill Point(s) applied to [Throwing] Skill. [System]: 3,000xp gained for [Throwing] Skill.
Done wrestling with the System''s hoops and hurdles, I was itching to jump into another round of physical exercise. Nothing like a good workout to get the dopamine shots of experience dripping in, especially after getting a full recharge from the Rest Function. But just as I was gearing up to peel myself off the bed, a shuffle across the room snagged my attention. "Gabe?! You''re up?!" The words shot out before I could temper them, spiked with a sudden jolt of nerves. His response was a groan that sounded like it carried the weight of the world. "Could you maybe not blast my eardrums?" came his muffled plea from across the room. Instinct nearly had me bounding over to him, but I slammed the brakes on that impulse. I had a reveal up my sleeve for later¡ªhe didn''t know I was back on my feet yet, after all. So, playing it cool and sticking to the script, I plopped back into the trusty old wheelchair with its symphony of squeaks and rolled over to his side of the room. Time to play the caring sister, wheelchair edition. I wheeled up beside Gabriel''s bed, the old chair creaking in protest. "How you holding up, Gabe?" I asked, trying to keep the mood light despite the worry that was twisting my gut into knots. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! His replies were clipped, each one punctuated by a grimace. The guy was clearly in more pain than he was letting on. "I''ve been better," he grunted, shifting uncomfortably under the covers. I eyed him for a moment before asking, "Did you take the meds I laid out for you on the nightstand?" There was a small part of me that already knew the answer before he even opened his mouth. With a sheepish tilt of his head, he admitted, "Didn''t think to look for any..." Classic Gabe, always forgetting the little things¡ªeven when they were important. Rolling my eyes, I fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, and shoved it into his hands together with the bottle of pills and with the two inhalers that Dr. Malrick had prescribed. "Here, take these," I said, handing them over with a stern look that I hoped conveyed ''I''m not messing around''. He took the medicine with a huff, clearly not thrilled about being babied. "I''m not a kid, Sera. I can handle my meds," he protested after downing the pills and taking a puff from each inhaler. That''s when I felt a wave of unexpected anger wash over me. "Gabriel, you nearly died, remember?" I snapped, more sharply than I intended. "You think I''m just gonna sit back and watch after that stunt you pulled? Not happening. You''re stuck with me for now, like it or not." I softened a little at the end, hoping he understood this was coming from a place of concern, not control. He needed to be taken care of, and I wasn''t about to let him forget it¡ªnot when he''d given me the scare of a lifetime and nearly left me alone in this crazy family. Gabriel''s head dipped, a shadow of contrition darkening his features. "Yeah... You''re spot on, Sera. My bad," he murmured, the fight draining from him as quickly as it had surged. "Thanks for... well, for everything. If you hadn¡¯t been here, then¡ª" I cut in before he could trudge any further down guilt lane. "Hey, we''re a team, remember? Sibling rule number one: No leaving the other behind, especially not for some minor scrape," I said, mustering a half-smile that I hoped conveyed ''don''t worry about it''. The corners of his mouth twitched, mirroring my own, as a soft expression replaced the pained one. Those painkillers must''ve been doing their magic, because the lines of agony had already smoothed from his brow. "But seriously, spill it. You came home looking like you''d picked a fight with a vibroblade. Out with it, Gabe. What the fuck happened to you?" My tone was light, but the undercurrent of concern was as clear as daylight. Gabriel sucked in a shaky breath, clearly wrestling with the memory. His eyes met mine, found the unwavering demand for the truth there, and caved. "I was on my way back from work," he began, his voice a little stronger now. "Saw this woman lying on the sidewalk. Looked hurt. I know, I know¡ªI should''ve walked on by. But she looked so... helpless." He paused, the regret in his voice palpable. "Turns out, she was beyond help already. Dead. And that''s when I realised I''d walked straight into a scav trap." His hand subconsciously drifted to his stomach, a phantom echo of the pain he''d endured. "Three of them popped out from behind some junk, like the cockroaches they are¡ªprobably thought they''d hit the jackpot with me," he continued, a bitter twist to his words. "They wanted everything¡ªcreds, gear, you name it. But I wasn''t about to roll over for some low-tier scavs." I could almost picture it¡ªthe moment of decision, the primal instinct to flee. "I bolted. Only one of them was quick enough to take a swipe at me, and man, did he make it count," Gabriel recounted, his voice tinged with both adrenaline and disbelief. He''d made it to safety, bleeding and battered but alive, fueled by sheer will and the kind of luck that made you believe in guardian angels¡ªor at least, in really lazy scavs. Gabriel definitely had that on me as well: He was a downright athlete, when compared to the vast majority of people I had met so far in this world. And scavs generally having to scrounge up trash to make it through the day? They didn¡¯t stand a chance trying to catch up to him, unless they were part of the larger groups. As he finished his tale, I couldn''t help the mix of relief and frustration that bubbled inside me. Relief that he was here, frustration that he''d been so foolish, and a silent promise that I''d teach him a thing or two about street smarts. But one emotion was at the forefront of my thoughts: Unbridled anger. The fury that coursed through me was almost tangible, a red-hot surge that pulsed with every beat of my heart. The gall of those scavs, to lay a finger on Gabriel¡ªmy darling brother¡ªone of the only pure souls in this twisted world, was downright unfathomable. The sheer audacity was mindbreaking. They had marked themselves, etching their fate with the blade they had turned on him. As I simmered in silent fury, a part of me acknowledged the reality: Direct retribution wasn''t on today''s menu. But oh, had they earned a spot on a very special list I had just decided to start compiling. Before this, the thought of dishing out violence was nothing short of terrifying. Now, however? It was all I could do not to march out and exact justice. But it wasn''t fear that stayed my hand¡ªit was logic. I was not ready for such a thing. Not yet. ''I swear on everything, they''ll regret crossing a hair on Gabriel''s head,'' I vowed, the resolve hardening like steel within me. But vengeance is a dish best served perfectly planned. I needed to beef up my Skills, buff out my Attributes, and concoct a master plan. And, of course, I had to uncover exactly who those three scavs were. Only then could I cross their names off my list, once and for all. But patience was key; I had to wait until the time was right to strike back. And when that time came, they''d never see me coming. Gabriel''s voice, laced with a brother''s worry, cut through my inner turmoil like a beacon. "Sera, you''ve got this... look. Everything cool?" I forced my features into neutral, trying to scrub the vengeance from my expression. "Oh, it''s nothing, just replaying that mess in my head. And Gabe, c''mon man, you can''t be springing into Good Samaritan mode without a second thought! She didn''t even call out to you, you absolute blank! Promise me you''ll steer clear of any more ''heroics'' like that, alright?" I chastised, hoping he''d take the lesson to heart. To further underscore my point, I grabbed the combat knife holster he''d given me just days earlier¡ªa token of protection that suddenly seemed more fitting in his hands than mine. "Here, you take this," I insisted, thrusting the weapon toward him. "Until you get a grip on some basic street smarts, you need it more than I do. I''m getting the hang of things around here, and I''m not planning any grand tours beyond Delta''s comparatively safe walls any time soon. Use it if you have to. I need to be able to focus on my own recovery, not on whether my complete blank of a brother''s gone and gotten himself shanked by some alleyway trash!" Gabriel pushed back, his pride kicking in, "Sera, I don''t need¡ª" But I levelled him with a look that could''ve cut through steel, my Ego Attribute in full effect in assisting my self-set goal, by removing every other type of emotion but sheer force of will. It was the kind of glare that said ''end of discussion'' without a single word uttered. He let out a sigh, capitulating under my unwavering stare, and reluctantly took the knife. "Jeez, you''re really starting to remind me of Valeria sometimes," he grumbled, a reluctant respect in his voice. I just smirked, thinking to myself that maybe resembling Valeria wasn''t such a bad thing. After all, gaining her approval was still high on my to-do list. We exchanged a few more words, the kind of sibling chatter that filled the room with a semblance of normalcy, before Gabriel trudged off for a shower. I could almost see the weight of the day washing off with every step he took. Meanwhile, I set the stage for my next act. Mr. Shori''s food boxes from yesterday were laid out next to the dining table like a treasure trove of culinary delights. Everything was in place for the grand unveiling. Timing was key. I waited for Gabriel to settle onto the couch, the image of post-shower refreshment, before casually throwing out the bait. "Hungry? You must be starving after... everything. Got some food here for you." It was a perfect setup. He''d been out cold for a ton of hours, and his body was surely screaming for fuel to patch itself up. As I watched him eye the food boxes, I knew I had him; he was about to discover that while he¡¯d been battling scavs, I''d been waging my own war... and winning. Just as he was about to get up, I hit him with a sisterly, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get it,¡± before simply getting up from my wheelchair next to him and sauntering over to the food boxes, grabbing two of them and moving back to the couch to sit down next to him. Gabriel¡¯s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as I unfolded myself from the wheelchair with the nonchalance of a magician revealing her final trick. There I was, on two feet, striding across the room like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, he just stared, his mouth agape, the cogs in his brain visibly grinding to a halt. You could practically see the thought bubble above his head: ''Is this the meds talking, or is Sera actually walking?'' As the realisation dawned, his astonishment morphed into pure amazement, his earlier fatigue forgotten. "Wait, are you¡ª? How¡ª? When did you¡ª?" His questions tumbled over one another in a jumble of incredulity and joy. Grinning from ear to ear, I returned to the couch, setting down the food boxes in the cramped space on the coffee table, right in front of the TV. "Surprise," I chimed, revelling in his shocked expression. "And guess what? I helped make most of this too." His eyes flicked between me and the boxes, as if verifying that this wasn''t some elaborate hallucination. The revelation seemed to hit him in waves, each one washing over him with renewed surprise. "You made this? You''re walking¡­? And cooking? What the fuck, Sera?!" He was grappling with the double dose of news, his usual composure lost in a sea of bewilderment. With a nod, I couldn''t help but feel a bit like a cat who''d managed to sneak a taste of cream. "Yep, while you were out gallivanting in the concrete jungle, I was here, making moves. How do you think we got to Dr. Maltrick¡¯s clinic? I wheeled you there myself," I said, painting the picture of my newfound independence. I conveniently omitted the part about the chrome-armed Samaritan who''d lent a hand. That was a debt I had yet to settle, and I made a mental note to swap details next time our paths crossed. As the reality sank in, Gabriel reclined, his expression morphing from shock to a dawning smile of pride and disbelief. "That''s... just wow, Sera. But, the doctors... they said it''d be months. How''s this even possible?" he marvelled, clearly trying to stitch his expectations back together. I just shrugged, playing it off cool. ¡®Sometimes, life throws you a curveball¡ªor in my case, a System that defies all medical logic,¡¯ I thought but didn¡¯t say. Out loud, I simply offered, "I''ve come a long way in just a couple of days. I have no idea how, but I won¡¯t complain. Let''s dig in, and I¡¯ll fill you in on the details of what I¡¯ve been up to, how about it?" I marvelled, not for the first time, at the staggering level of tech at my fingertips in this new world¡ªeven a modest food stall could boast gadgets that kept takeout as fresh as if you were dining in. It was a slice of everyday cyberpunk life, the kind of future shock that was rapidly becoming my new normal. Advanced tech was as ubiquitous here as street vendors in a market, often more available than the basics like a steady meal or a roof over your head. It was a twisted priority list, but it was the heartbeat of the genre¡ªone where a box that could keep food hot for days was just another pedestrian piece of the landscape, while two to three simple meals a day was unobtainable for a large portion of the population. Handing the second box to Gabriel, who was still clearly caught between the remnants of his drug-induced haze and the tangible reality of his super-recovered sister, I launched into a retelling of the things I had done over the past two days. "So, after you headed out yesterday, I went straight back to my workout regimen..."
After our sibling-dinner, which had ended with Gabriel complimenting the food more than generously, even having asked for seconds¡ªwhich I happily provided, leaving me with one box for Oliver later that evening¡ªhe went back to get some more rest. His wound was still healing and he needed all the rest time for his recovery that he could get. His work had been surprisingly amicable, allowing him to simply work-off the hours he was missing with a two-times multiplier in the upcoming weeks and months as unpaid overtime¡ªmeaning he would have to basically do double-shifts for at least three days already, each day adding another two days of double-shifts on top. While that sounded absolutely horrendous to my ears, Gabriel had assured me that this was ¡°more than generous¡±. He had only gotten that good of a deal because the owner of the joint he worked at really, really liked him, apparently. Regardless, I had been left to my own devices and there was really only one thing that I knew I wanted to do right now: Grind more experience. I was feeling as fresh as the same morning when I had woken up, thanks to the Rest Functions ludicrous recovery aspect, and I now had a very clear goal in mind: Get myself ready to make those low-life trash scavs pay for attempting to kill my brother. For that, I need a straight-up laundry list of things, but the most obvious and easiest to start working on were simple: A higher Body Attribute, higher levels for my [Athletics] Skill, [Knives] and [Throwing] Skills, as well as a big upgrade to my [Stealth] Skill as well. I was hoping to start work on all of these, except for the [Knives] and [Throwing] ones, which were currently locked from advancing past Level 3 due to my Reflex being stuck there as well. Assuming I got a full day of work at Mr. Shori¡¯s in tomorrow, however, I should be able to get my Reflex up to 4 easily, which would automatically bump my [Throwing] up to Level 4 as well. The [Knives] experience that was bound to be a part of that was just the cherry on top. Resolved to up my game, I hit the corridors of the 43rd floor for a run¡ªthis time with a twist. I was on a mission to meld stealth with speed, a concept that felt as alien as silence in a thunderstorm. The concept of sneaky sprinting was a head-scratcher, but my body seemed to catch on without needing the memo¡ªnin nin. Thanks to that nifty Level 1 [Stealth] knowledge drop, my limbs moved with a fluidity that was part shadow, part athlete. Sure, it might''ve put a slight damper on the intensity of my workout, reducing the overall experience [Athletics] and Body would get over the same period of time, but if it meant racking up [Stealth] experience alongside them, I was all in. Despite the new strategy, I stayed true to one rule¡ªBonus XP was reserved exclusively for boosting my Body Attribute. A stronger body meant longer or more intense runs, which translated to heaps more XP for both [Athletics] and [Stealth]. My physical endurance was the bottleneck here, not the clock, and I was determined to push that limit as far as it would go¡­ Chapter 25 - Unravelling Plot After a solid session of sneaky sprinting through the corridors of the 43rd floor, I returned to the apartment looking like I''d taken a dive into a pool of sweat. But hey, no pain, no gain, right? I couldn''t resist a quick peek at the day''s progress, and the numbers that flashed up on my interface brought a triumphant grin to my face. The combination of stealthy jogging had definitely paid off, the XP tally ticking up in a way that made every drop of sweat worth it. In my previous life, I definitely would not have lasted even ten minutes, but the consistent chime of notifications was a level of crack-cocaine that my gamer brain could not resist. It made these grind sessions surprisingly tolerable.
[System]: 500xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 400xp. [System]: 100xp gained for Edge Attribute.
The numbers ticking up on my interface were like music to my ears, or, well, eyes. At this rate, I was on track to hit some major milestones with my [Athletics] and [Stealth] Skills by tomorrow morning¡¯s run, not to mention finally reaching the coveted Body 3 during my pre-dawn workout. With Body 3 in my sights, I figured I could even up the ante on my runs going forward. Instead of lengthening my jog through the 43rd floor''s hallways¡ªwhich, let''s be honest, could get mind-numbingly dull, even with the constant dopamine rush of experience drops¡ªI planned to ramp up the intensity. Thirty to forty-five minutes of high-octane, heart-pounding exercise seemed a lot more appealing than a never-ending marathon. Edge was trailing a bit, sure, but it wasn¡¯t too shabby either, perched comfortably at 900 out of the 1000 XP needed for level 2. That meant another win was waiting for me on tomorrow''s run! The thought of it all¡ªthe coordinated levelling, the synchrony of Skill and Attribute upgrades¡ªit was like a gamer''s dream. Like turning in a bunch of quests all at once and watching your experience bar zoom upward. A quadruple hit of that sweet, sweet dopamine in just one hour of effort? Now that was my kind of high. That was the stuff of RPG legends and gamer lucid dreams, and yet here I was, living it in real life! Upon my return, I was surprised to see Oliver already at home, earlier than his usual time. "Hey, dad! Back so soon?" I called out as I strolled by. He was absorbed in something, judging by the blue light emanating from his eye implants, a telltale sign of something being displayed within his cerebral interface. This ¡®feature¡¯, if one might call it that, only went away with some higher-tech or specifically designed implants, so it was easy to know whether someone was paying attention, or just reading through their favourite Neo Avalis newsletter in any conversation. He jerked upright, clearly caught off guard, which in turn gave me a start. "Oh, Sera! Didn¡¯t see you there. Welcome back," he replied, shaking off the surprise. "Work''s been a bit of a nightmare, to be honest. Remember the hacking debacle I mentioned a couple days ago? We thought we had it under control, but it turns out we were just at the tip of the iceberg..." He paused, a frown etching deeper lines on his face. "A corpo netrunner sent to fix the mess got taken down by a daemon still lurking in our systems. So now, not only do we still have the daemon issue, but there''s also the matter of a corpo casualty on our premises." He sighed, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "It''s a complete mess. But at least working from home means I can keep an eye on you and Gabe," he finished, a heavy trace of meaning lining his tone. As I absorbed his words, I couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Oliver''s string of bad luck. ''When it rains, it really pours, huh?'' I thought. ''First, I go missing and turn up basically dead and in a coma, then his work gets hacked, followed by Gabriel nearly getting killed if it wasn¡¯t for my timely miracle recovery and now he has corpos on his ass¡­ Oliver''s definitely got more than his fair share on his plate.'' It made me even more determined to pull my weight and then some, especially now that I was back in action. Regrettably, my skills in the netrunning department were barely nascent¡ªmy [Netrunning] Skill was freshly unlocked, not even scratching Level 1. Taking on daemons capable of deep-frying seasoned corpo netrunners was way out of my league. Even if, by some miracle, I managed to defeat one, I''d hardly know the first thing about extracting useful data from its digital carcass. Wanting to offer Oliver some semblance of comfort nevertheless, I hurried to fetch the last box of Mr. Shori''s culinary delights. Setting it down next to him, I hoped the gesture would at least provide a brief respite from the storm clouds gathering over his head. "Here, take a break and have some of this," I suggested, laying on my best therapeutic tone. All those sessions from my previous life had to be good for something, right? "You''re already swamped with this stuff all day. Try to snatch some moments of peace, okay?" I couldn''t help but brighten as I added, "Oh, and guess what? I helped make this! I''ve been lending a hand at Mr. Shori''s stall down on floor 16. It''s been awesome for getting back on my feet, and the bonus is all the tasty grub I can eat!" My thumbs-up might have been a tad over-the-top, but if it could nudge a smile onto Oliver''s face, it''d be worth the theatrics. Oliver''s eyebrows shot up in surprise at my revelation. "You''re helping out at a food stall? And cooking? That''s... unexpected," he said, his tone a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. "You''ve only just started moving around again, and now you''ve landed a gig like this? I''m impressed, but also a bit surprised. Cooking was never really on your radar before." I shrugged, adopting an air of casual mystery. "Well, you know, post-coma life has me looking at things differently. I guess I''m just interested in... well, everything now," I said, slightly exaggerating my newfound zest for life. I was hoping this fresh enthusiasm of mine would be as infectious for Oliver as it had been for Gabriel. Oliver chuckled, a hint of the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Seems like you''re making the most of your second chance, Sera. Alright, I''ll take your advice and try to relax a bit. You¡¯re definitely on the money about this whole ¡®dealing with it all day¡¯ part." He conceded, opening the food box and beginning to eat. His appetite seemed to kick in as soon as he took the first bite, a sign that maybe he was letting go of the work stress, even if just for a moment. Seeing him finally take a break, I excused myself. "I''m going to grab a shower," I announced, feeling the stickiness of my earlier exertions. It was time to wash off the day''s sweat and gear up for whatever came next.
The rest of the day unfolded with an unexpected quietness, a rare lull in the usually eventful rhythm of my life. I took advantage of the downtime to delve into the SGP-01 data-shard''s virtual realm for about an hour, a foray that yielded modest but welcome boosts in my [Programming] and [Netrunning] Skills.
[System]: 400xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
Beyond that little digital excursion, the day passed without any significant developments or surprises. Gabriel, deep in the throes of healing sleep, was gearing up for his return to work the next day. Oliver, meanwhile, was submerged in his own sea of corporate troubles. This quiet evening, I decided, was not such a bad thing. It gave me the perfect excuse to hit the hay early, something I''d been secretly yearning for. The Rest Function was a marvel for wiping away physical fatigue and easing some of the mental strain, but today had stretched me thin in ways I hadn''t expected. A part of me was craving just to be, to exist without the constant push for progress or survival. Heeding my own advice to Oliver, I chose to spend an hour in blissful idleness, a rare luxury in my new life. Since waking up in this world, it had been a non-stop hustle of experience grinding and adapting to my new reality. But tonight, I allowed myself the simple pleasure of unwinding, of soaking in the quiet mundanity of megabuilding life. With nothing on my agenda but relaxation, I lounged, letting the stillness of the apartment wash over me. It wasn''t much¡ªjust the hum of the building and the distant sounds of life beyond my walls¡ªbut it was enough. When the time came to retire for the night, I was acutely aware that tomorrow would likely ramp up the intensity again. But for now, I revelled in the calm for a few more, precious minutes as I slowly navigated my cerebral interface. Setting the Rest Function for a solid eight hours, I took a deep, contented breath, embracing this moment of peace before mentally flicking the confirmation button.
My eyes fluttered open immediately, the usual post-rest confusion hitting me at full force once again.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
As my confusion from waking up ebbed away, Gabriel¡¯s grunts from the other side of the room were hard to miss. The guy was in obvious discomfort, yet stubbornly set on heading to work. "You sure you''re good?" I called out, concern lining my voice. The thought of him straining himself so soon after his brush with death had me on edge. His reply came between huffs of discomfort. "Yeah, I''m fine! Just wrestling with my pants here. Stitches make it... interesting. Keep doing your thing, I''ll manage!" The frustration in his voice painted a clear picture of his struggle. I could almost see him trying to shimmy into his pants, the belt buckle taunting his fresh stitches. ''That must be a real pain. Hope he can handle the day...'' I thought, anxiety nibbling at the edges of my mind. His rush to return to work, barely two days after the incident, was understandable, especially given his boss''s ''generous'' offer. Double shifts as compensation still sounded harsh to me, but in a twisted way, it was a blessing compared to the ruthless work culture more prominently featured in cyberpunk worlds. Or, now that it came up, my old world. ''Man, the old "sick but still gotta work" routine. Feels like cyberpunk fiction was less of a warning and more of a guide book for the corrupt politicians and lizard-people CEO¡¯s back then...'' It was eerie how my past reality had started mirroring the bleak narratives of the cyberpunk genre, almost as if the power-hungry elites had missed the entire point of the genre. In a way, this familiarity made adapting to life in Neon Dragons a tad easier. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. For all its flaws, at least here the basics like healthcare didn¡¯t come with a crippling price tag, as far as I knew. It was a small silver lining in a world that, in many ways, mirrored the grim realities I had known before. Taking Gabriel''s advice, I geared up for the day, opting for the same workout clothes I''d worn the day before. Thankfully, the wardrobe''s built-in auto-cleaners had worked their magic, making them feel fresh as new. It dawned on me why Sera¡¯s wardrobe had been so limited; with the ability to refresh clothes overnight, the need for a vast array wasn''t pressing. While the selection wasn''t quite hefty enough for my liking, the convenience of always having clean clothes was a definite perk. I made a mental note to appreciate the small things. Once dressed, I peeked in to ensure Gabriel had managed the pants situation, then slipped past him into the living room. It was a bit surreal, stepping out before him for the first time, but this was the new normal¡ªme, on the fast track to... well, everything. But I had to pump the brakes for now. I was tantalisingly close to hitting Body 3, just 200xp away, and I didn''t want to reach that milestone in full view of Gabriel. While I doubted the change would be as dramatic as before¡ªI was, after all, only really levelling from "slightly below average" to "fully human"¡ªit wasn''t a spectacle I wanted to stage. So, I parked myself on the couch and flicked on the TV, a placeholder activity while I waited for Gabriel to depart. It was a strange feeling, this waiting game, but it was a small price to pay for maintaining the element of secrecy regarding my whole System-laden existence in this world. The early morning news on Neo Avalis was usually a humdrum affair, but today, it held my attention with a startling headline. "We continue with our breaking news segment," the polished TV host began, his voice tinged with a rehearsed solemnity. "The Sobirashu Corporation has just confirmed the passing of Professor Matsuiro Kobayashi in today¡¯s morning hours. Renowned for his groundbreaking work, Professor Kobayashi died unexpectedly in his sleep. Sobirashu¡¯s official statement cites a catastrophic malfunction with his cerebral interface, ironically a recent innovation from the very R&D department he led for over two decades." His co-host, Mira, chimed in with a perfectly modulated tone of sympathy. "It''s a poignant reminder of life''s unpredictability, Nix. Professor Kobayashi devoted his life to advancing technology, only to be felled by his own creation. A poetic end, yet heartbreakingly tragic." "Indeed, Mira. A life dedicated to innovation, tragically cut short by¡ª" I snapped the TV off, unable to stomach the saccharine, scripted sympathies any longer. My mind was already racing down a tumultuous path. ''Matsuiro Kobayashi, dead? That can''t be right!'' I thought, struggling to reconcile this news with what I knew. ''He''s a pivotal character in Neon Dragons! He can''t be dead, or it throws the whole storyline off course! It''s more than six years too early! Without him, what happens to the AV.ATAR project? Who could possibly fill his shoes?!'' The questions spiralled, each more unsettling than the last. Could my mere presence in this world have set off such a drastic alteration in the timeline? Was everything I knew about the Neon Dragons storyline destined to become irrelevant, rendered useless by these unforeseen, ripple-like changes? The real conundrum was figuring out how my existence could have possibly influenced such a significant event. I had hardly been a force of nature since waking from my coma. In fact, I had just ventured outside my apartment for the first time barely two days ago. How could I have possibly impacted anything to this extent? As I mulled over these questions, I couldn''t help but verbalise my thoughts internally, trying to piece together a plausible explanation. ''Could the Matsuiro Kobayashi in the game have been an imposter? Maybe the real one died today, and the one in Neon Dragons was a clone or something?'' It was a far-fetched idea, and I quickly dismissed it. ''No, that doesn¡¯t add up. If that were true, it would''ve been all over the game''s wiki. There''s no way the lore masters would miss such a crucial plot twist¡­'' So, what was left? Had my arrival in this world somehow, however indirectly, led to the professor''s death? The very thought seemed ludicrous, yet I couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling that something was amiss. A chilling thought struck me, sending a cold shiver down my spine. ''The only significant thing I''ve done since venturing out was delivering that data-shard to Vega...'' My eyes widened as the implication dawned on me. Could it be possible that the shard I delivered to Vega held information that somehow led to Professor Kobayashi''s demise? The fate of that shard would have been entirely different had I not shown up at Mr. Shori''s stall. But then, logic began to seep in, tempering my wild speculations. ''How would that even make sense? A small-time gang like the Clawed Beasts going head-to-head with THE Sobirashu Corporation? That''s like a microbe picking a fight with a star destroyer. No matter what was on that shard, it''s hard to believe they''d take such a suicidal leap; much less succeed. And how on earth would Mr. Shori have access to something so critical to begin with?'' As I pieced together these thoughts, my racing heart began to slow. It seemed increasingly unlikely that my actions, or Vega''s, were tied to the professor''s death. But that left the big question hanging in the air: What really happened to Professor Kobayashi, and why? It was something I was likely not going to get any answers to for a while, but the realisation that the story and world had already changed to such a drastic degree, was deeply unsettling¡ªregardless of whether my existence itself had caused this change or not. Gabriel''s entrance into the living room was a welcome interruption to my spiralling thoughts. "Heading out, Sera. Remember, don''t do anything I wouldn''t," he said, flashing his familiar grin. But I noticed a hint of reluctance in his posture, a lingering uncertainty that was understandable given recent events. ¡®You heard it, Sera: Time to cheer up Gabe and get him ready for the day,¡¯ I mentally geared up for a bit of sibling cheerleading. "You got it, Gabe! And hey, don''t forget that combat knife. Remember, you''re a giant compared to those punks! If anyone tries anything, just show ''em who''s boss. I don''t want to have to come down there and whoop their asses for you!" My words were a mix of jest and genuine concern, hoping to lighten his mood. ¡°You¡¯re such a blank¡­¡± Gabriel rolled his eyes, but I caught a hint of relaxation in his posture¡ªscore one for sisterly pep talk. "Sure thing, sis. Don¡¯t wait up for dinner, I might be late. Gotta square things away with Mr. Schultze as quickly as I can. Debt''s like a shadow, better to outrun it when you can," he replied with a sigh, then stepped out, leaving me to my own plans. With a clap of my hands, I sprang up from the couch. "Time to get moving!" I headed to my designated workout corner, the only relatively tidy spot in the apartment, and assumed my usual starting stance for the first set. But then, an errant thought struck me. ''Hold on, wouldn''t it be smarter to start with some stretching? Loosen up those muscles first.'' It seemed like a good way to prep for the workout ahead. While the Rest Function did wonders in ensuring I woke up without any muscle aches or soreness, I realised it wouldn''t be much help in the middle of the day. The last thing I wanted was to have to hit the pause button on my activities because of a muscle strain or similar mishap. ''Maybe adding a bit of pre-workout stretching to my routine wouldn''t be such a bad idea,'' I pondered, picturing the potential downtime a pulled muscle could cause. ''Six to eight hours of recovery would mean losing valuable time I could use to gain experience.'' With this newfound resolution, I stood up and began a series of upper body stretches. I methodically worked through each muscle group, ensuring they were adequately warmed up, before moving on to do the same for my lower body. Just as I was getting into the groove, ready to launch into my workout proper, a notification chime from the System caught me off guard. ''Did stretching just earn me some Reflex or Body experience?'' I wondered, momentarily puzzled. But when I checked my System Notifications, I was met with a delightful surprise. It wasn''t Reflex or Body experience at all that I had gained.
[System]: [Contortion] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Contortion] Skill.
The notification had me puzzled. ''Does this mean my stretching technique is off? Or could it be that there''s no specific [Stretching] Skill, so the G.E.M.A. System categorised my attempt as [Contortion]?'' This unexpected turn left me slightly bemused and admittedly a bit concerned about my stretching form. I mentally bookmarked the need to find proper stretching tutorials. If my attempts were being interpreted as contortion, I might need to seriously reassess my technique. However, as far as I remembered, neither [Contortion] nor [Stretching] were skills in the original Neon Dragons game, which added to my uncertainty. ''Looks like I''ll need to level this [Contortion] Skill up to the first rank just to get a basic understanding of what it''s all about.'' For the time being, I decided to incorporate this newfound [Contortion] Skill into my morning routine, at least until I figured out whether I was stretching correctly or not and could replace this slot with proper stretches in the future. In any case, a new Skill meant new avenues for gaining experience and unlocking more Perks. Despite the confusion, it was an opportunity I couldn¡¯t exactly pass up. ''More Skills, more gains,'' I reminded myself, shaking off the initial surprise and getting ready to dive into my morning workout¡­
My decision to wait for Gabriel''s departure before diving into my workout was soon validated by the triumphant chime of the System in my ears, heralding a significant milestone.
[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 900xp. [System]: Body Attribute has reached 3.
As soon as the notification sounded, I could feel the G.E.M.A. System kicking into gear. There was an almost tangible shift in my body as my muscles and overall physique underwent a subtle yet profound transformation. It was like receiving a general renovation, with each part being fine-tuned and enhanced under the System''s meticulous care. As the changes wrought by the G.E.M.A. System took effect, I could sense the subtle yet significant alterations in my body. Unlike the previous upgrades to my Body Attribute, this time, the change didn''t feel as dramatic in terms of structure. It was more like a final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, solidifying and enhancing what was already there. The transformation felt akin to a bucket being gradually filled over time¡ªfirst with large stones at Body 1, adding mass and weight, then with smaller gravel at Body 2, providing more detail and definition. Now, at Body 3, it was as if fine sand was poured in, filling every tiny crevice, smoothing out the rough edges, and fortifying the whole structure. This advancement didn''t so much expand my physical capabilities with new heights as it cemented and refined my existing strengths. It was like reinforcing a tool to manufacturing standards¡ªevery movement felt more precise, every action more assured, more powerful. This wasn''t about gaining new ways to use my body, like Body 0, 1 and 2 had been, but rather about enhancing and perfecting the ways I already knew¡ªand it felt fucking amazing. Midway through my set, the G.E.M.A. System¡¯s enhancements kicked in, and the difference in my strength was nothing short of remarkable. Before, managing about eight push-ups in a set was my limit, but now I felt like I could easily hit 20, maybe even push it to 25. Granted, a lot of this newfound prowess was due to my relatively small and lean frame, meaning I wasn¡¯t moving a huge amount of weight, but the improvement was undeniably significant. The most noticeable enhancement, though, wasn''t in terms of raw power; it was my stamina that had taken a major leap forward. Even as my arms tingled with the exertion of the first set, I was far from breathless. This boost in endurance was probably a result of a couple of factors. Firstly, achieving Level 1 in [Athletics] had already given my overall stamina a considerable lift. Now, with the Body Attribute reaching level 3, my capacity for sustained physical activity had been further amplified. This combination was a promising sign for the rest of my workout routine and, indeed, for my overall grinding sessions going forward. Ultimately, I decided that getting Body to at least 5 was a must-have, considering the dire plans I had made the previous day. If all else failed in my plans to take out the low-life trash that had assaulted my brother, then, at the very least, I¡¯d have to be able to put up a fight with brute force, if necessary. While a 5 wouldn¡¯t make me into the Hulk by any stretch, compared to scavs relying on dead women to ambush somebody 1v3 in order to get a modicum of a chance at success, I might as well be. I would probably be fine with a 3 already, but I wasn¡¯t going to take any chances¡ªnot when my very life depended on it. It would likely take a week or two to get there, but it would be worth the grind¡ªin more ways than one. Body would benefit me throughout most of my other grinds as well, even if it didn¡¯t govern the majority of my Skills. As long as a Skill required me to physically move around, Body would always give me some kind of a leg-up on the grind for them, either by making me faster, stronger or even just increasing the time I could spend grinding without tiring out. Whether it be [Juggling], [Throwing], [Stealth] or, hell, even [Maid], all of them stood to gain from me improving in this area. In essence, a higher Body level meant I could train harder and longer, maximising my experience gain across the board. It was an efficient way to ensure I got the most out of every hour spent honing my abilities. So, I kept my Bonus XP exclusively for Body training for the foreseeable future, making that my first and highest priority across the board. But all these thoughts could wait for later. For now, I had a set to complete and a ramped-up workout to finish to get this day of concerning revelations and exciting milestones truly started¡­ Chapter 26 - Speedrun Strats After wrapping up my comprehensive morning routine, which included a rather extensive jog around the 43rd floor, I re-entered the apartment, unable to suppress the wide grin spreading across my face. ''What a productive session! Today¡¯s grind has been absolutely off the charts!'' Heading towards the shower to wash off the layers of sweat and gradually relax my muscles¡ªI really didn¡¯t want to risk any injuries before heading to Mr. Shori¡¯s¡ªI casually flipped through the long list of System notifications accumulated from the morning¡¯s activities. Opting not to check them in real-time had resulted in an impressive, consolidated summary of my accomplishments¡ªa neat little feature of the System that I always appreciated when it showed up.
[System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 500xp. [System]: 600xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: [Athletics] Skill has reached Level 2. [System]: 400xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: [Stealth] Skill has reached Level 2. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: Edge Attribute has reached 2. [System]: [Acrobatics] Skill unlocked. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
Aside from all the massive level ups, which in themselves had been amazing drops of extra knowledge and muscle memory downloads, I had even unlocked the much coveted [Acrobatics] towards the end of my training regimen. To be fair, I had mostly just jumped around the hallway a lot, looking a bit like an overly zealous child, but I didn¡¯t really know any other way to unlock it. In the game, players just unlocked it by doing exactly that: Jumping like absolute madmen. I was really looking forward to the Level 1 knowledge-drop of [Acrobatics], eager to understand what the Skill entailed in this reality¡ªespecially any potential, alternative training methods. My current method, while effective, wasn''t exactly dignified, and I wasn''t too keen on the idea of perpetually bouncing around like a human pogo stick to level it up. Don''t get me wrong, I was fully prepared to do whatever it took to enhance the Skill, considering the valuable Perks it promised. However, I couldn''t say I was thrilled about the prospect of looking like a hopping lunatic in the process. Getting my [Athletics] Skill to Level 2 had once again given me a slight improvement to my form, as well as a fairly sizable stamina improvement, which were both very welcome. [Stealth] at Level 2 had come with a surprisingly massive amount of knowledge, further deepening the understanding I had gotten about the process of becoming, and more importantly remaining, invisible to other people¡¯s attempts at finding me. A hefty chunk of muscle memory had also been included, which was always very appreciated. Honestly, the best part about this whole System-thing was the fact that I didn¡¯t really need to spend hundreds upon hundreds of hours trying to understand how to properly move¡ªI just knew it, the second I reached the correct Skill Level to unlock that knowledge and muscle memory. The oddest part of my morning escapade, however, was ranking up my Edge Attribute from 1 to 2. Edge was now an intrinsic part of both my body and mind, and was a peculiar Attribute indeed. In the game, Edge governed the realm of skills that were considered less than honourable or those that didn''t neatly fit into conventional categories¡ªthey were the "cool" skills, if you will. Skills like [Stealth], [Poisons], [Ganger], and [Deception] were all under Edge''s domain, either fully or partially. What made the experience particularly strange was the sensation that accompanied the Attribute''s rank up. When the System decided to grant me the benefits associated with Edge''s increase, it was an unusual, almost surreal moment. It wasn''t just a straightforward boost to physical or mental faculties, but something more nuanced and intricate. Edge seemed to sharpen my instincts, enhance my intuition, and give an edge¡ªpun fully intended¡ªto anything regarding my overall ''cool factor'', qualities that were hard to quantify but undeniably present and influential in the way I approached challenges. The shift that came with my Edge attribute reaching level 2 wasn¡¯t about honing the sort of instincts and intuition that fell under the purview of the aptly named Intuition attribute. Instead, it honed specific elements of these faculties, but with a focus squarely on aspects that embodied the essence of being ¡®cool¡¯. Describing the change was a bit elusive, yet the effects were unmistakably tangible. The moment the System worked its magic, I felt a subtle yet distinct alteration in my demeanour. My walk adopted a more confident swagger, and my thought process edged slightly towards strategies and solutions that leaned on the more cunning or, for lack of a better word, cooler aspects of any situation. It wasn''t a fundamental change in how I thought, but more like being attuned to nuances and ideas that hadn''t occurred to me before. Despite my best attempts to grasp what exactly had happened to me, I immediately knew that I was going to need to rank up Edge further to really get a good grasp of what this Attribute actually did for me, on a fundamental level. Its Skills were undeniably going to be a big part of my life either way, so ranking up the Attribute wasn¡¯t exactly a choice, but rather an inevitability anyway. Focusing back on the task at hand, however, I couldn¡¯t help but note a certain peculiarity. Under the shower, as the water rinsed off the sweat from my vigorous morning workout, I noticed a particular change in my body. It was something that made me pause and spend a considerable amount of time in front of the bathroom mirror, pondering the implications. "I swear to god, if you two get out of hand, I''m not going to hesitate to take drastic measures!" I half-jokingly warned, looking down at the modest mounds that had gradually become more pronounced as my Body attribute progressed from "technically alive" to "fully functional human being." The thought of going through a similar kind of puberty as my last life¡ªwhere my overly generous breasts had caused endless back pain and discomfort¡ªwas not a pleasant one. I had serious doubts whether even the almighty Rest Function could alleviate the kind of chronic discomfort they had caused me previously. ''Good riddance¡­ Just¡­ stay manageable, okay?!'' I mused, assessing their size with my hands. They were a comfortable, hand-sized proportion now, which I could definitely live with. But much larger, and I''d have to consider other, more drastic options. A sudden, amusing thought then struck me¡ªone of the perks of this new life was the sheer amount of customization available. If they ever did become a nuisance, I could always visit a Ripper-Doc or a Slicer to swap them out for some advanced cybernetic alternatives. The idea of having high-tech, possibly laser-shooting cyber-boobs brought a smirk to my face. ''Now, wouldn''t that be something?'' I thought, chuckling to myself as I finished up my shower, already contemplating the wild possibilities this world could potentially offer in this department.
When I arrived at Mr. Shori¡¯s food stall on the bustling 16th floor, I was greeted by the familiar sight of him bustling about, much to my relief. I had harboured a niggling worry that something might have gone awry after my data-shard delivery to Vega the day before, but everything appeared to be business as usual. Mr. Shori, in his usual fashion, didn¡¯t waste time on formalities. He had come to trust my understanding of the daily grind over the past days¡ªslicing algae, concocting broth, and honing any knives he passed my way. These tasks had become a sort of comfortable routine, the bread and butter of my self-coined ¡°apprenticeship¡±. With little ado, I slipped into the clean, neatly arranged kitchen outfit Mr. Shori had laid out for me¡ªhis attention to detail never ceased to amaze me. I headed over to my regular spot at the cutting board and picked up the Nakiri-style knife. Thanks to the insights from that Level 1 [Cooking] knowledge drop, I now knew the proper name of this culinary blade; it was a niche detail not covered in [Knives], being a specific cooking tool. The day at the stall zipped by as I immersed myself in my tasks, each action reaping its own little harvest of experience points. I couldn''t help but feel a rush of excitement with each new chime that rang in my ears¡ªit was likely never going to get boring. All the while, I kept a discreet eye on Mr. Shori, watching for any signs of distress. Despite the seeming normalcy, I couldn''t quite shake my distrust of Vega. Until I heard directly from Mr. Shori that everything had indeed gone smoothly, my guard remained up¡ªit was a matter of safety for both of us, after all. As my shift was winding down, Mr. Shori finally caught a break from the day''s unexpectedly heavy customer traffic¡ªit seemed like today was busier than any other day since I started working here¡ªspeaking of which, what day was it even? I quickly checked my cerebral interface¡¯s time module and figured out that it was, in-fact, Tuesday. There was no such thing as a weekend in Neon Dragons, so I hadn¡¯t really been able to keep track of things that way, considering that both my parents and Gabriel were going to work every single day they weren¡¯t literally dying¡ªand sometimes even then, as evidenced by Gabriel¡¯s actions this very morning. With a rare moment of respite, Mr. Shori beckoned me to our usual secluded spot behind the stall, a little nook reserved for confidential conversations. He seamlessly transitioned into Japanese, offering me a respectful bow as he began, ¡°{Thank you, Ela. I''ve been informed that your delivery was exceptionally successful. Vega seemed quite taken with your work, even his courier inquired extensively about you¡ªyour origins, our acquaintance, and such. Naturally, I kept it vague as you had requested. I can''t begin to express how grateful I am. The task was far from straightforward, yet you handled it with an ease and professionalism that exceeded my wildest expectations. My deepest thanks to you once again, Ela.}¡± The earnestness and depth of his gratitude for what I had considered a ¡°simple¡± delivery mission left me feeling oddly fulfilled. It was a strong confirmation that I was indeed making significant strides in repaying my debt to Mr. Shori. This successful mission was a definite step in the right direction, and that realisation alone brought a sense of pride and accomplishment¡ªmuch more so than paying for a fan-favourite character in a video game ever could. ¡°{I''m relieved to hear that all went smoothly, Mr. Shori. It wasn''t exactly a walk in the park, especially with some initial challenges on the 21st floor, but it all ended up working out alright. Speaking of which¡­ Vega is quite the character. Do you really trust him, though?}¡± I inquired, my tone laced with curiosity yet edged with caution. I was acutely aware that in situations like these, words could carry meanings deeper than their surface value. Mr. Shori paused thoughtfully before responding. ¡°{Trust is a strong word¡­ No, I wouldn''t say I trust him. But what I do trust is his reputation. He''s known for his honour, particularly in business dealings. He''s assured me that he will oversee the necessary adjustments regarding my stall''s protection. It''s a considerable load off my mind, not having to second-guess whether the protection I''m paying for will be effective. The Clawed Beasts have a vastly superior reputation for being dependable than those damned Red Snakes.}¡± His response was measured, reflecting a blend of pragmatism and wariness typical of someone who had navigated the tricky waters of Neo Avalis'' underworld. It was clear that in this world, trust was a luxury few could afford, and reliance was often based more on reputation and necessity than genuine faith in another''s intentions. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. This was definitely an answer I could work with. It spoke of the fact that Mr. Shori did not feel intimidated or feared for his well-being, that he was so openly speaking about his distrust for Vega as a character. I felt my muscles relax a bit at that, having been on-edge since I had entered Mr. Shori¡¯s stall this very morning, always ready for any potential issues to crop up out of nowhere. ¡°{While my thanks are sincere, I know they won''t fill your belly. I''m acutely aware of that,}¡± Mr. Shori added, his eyes momentarily flashing yellow as he initiated a transfer. A notification promptly pinged in my cerebral interface.
[Yan Shori has transferred {c}220 to your account with the note: ¡°{Delivery successful.}¡±]
I was severely taken aback by the amount¡ª220 Credits was a small fortune for someone in my shoes, and I suspected it wasn''t exactly a trifling sum for Mr. Shori either. Before I could even voice my astonishment or attempt to refuse, another notification chimed in.
[Yan Shori has transferred {c}40 to your account with the note: ¡°{Stall assistance payments.}¡±]
Mr. Shori, with a knowing chuckle that seemed to embody the wisdom and kindness of an elder, said, ¡°{Now, you should be able to afford a decent meal. That is unless you''re already full from the take-away boxes from the stall.}¡± His laugh was one of those uniquely comforting sounds, a blend of experience and good humour that could instil a sense of warmth and reassurance in anyone fortunate enough to hear it. ¡°{I... Thank you so much, Mr. Shori. I¡¯m not sure if my delivery efforts justified such a generous reward, but I truly appreciate it,}¡± I stammered, overwhelmed by a mixture of gratitude and surprise. The amount I had received was significant, especially when I considered the cost of the SPG-01 data-shard that had wiped out Gabriel''s savings from years of work. That shard had cost 570 Credits, and here I was, having earned 260 Credits in just a few days. It dawned on me that while this rate of earning was definitely not sustainable, it was an incredible boost to my current situation. This windfall opened up new possibilities for me. I could now afford some essential items for my planned retribution against the scum lurking in Neo Avalis¡¯ underbelly¡­ Mr. Shori and I shared a few more words, his gratitude evident as he thanked me for my help at the stall. He particularly noted how Tuesdays usually left him exhausted due to the surge of customers, but with my help today, he felt significantly more invigorated after the mid-day rush. It was genuinely fulfilling to be appreciated for something so seemingly minor. I hadn''t performed any heroic feats, like saving the world or vanquishing a demon lord. My contributions were simple: Slicing algae, brewing broth, and sharpening knives. Yet, sometimes, these small acts could make a meaningful impact in someone''s life, especially someone as genuinely kind-hearted as Mr. Shori. It made the efforts feel worthwhile. Or so I rationalised my incessant experience grind at his stall. It was definitely for the pride and accomplishment of helping a kind soul, not for the assortment of 1,500xp I was able to gain from it during the rush-hour. Nope. Definitely to help out. Despite that fact, I immediately opened the stored of System Notifications as I left Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, unable to contain the urge to get that massive hit of dopamine, seeing them all arrayed in a neatly condensed way¡ªthank you, System!
[System]: 300xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: Reflex Attribute has reached 4. [System]: [Throwing] Skill has reached Level 4. [System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: [Cooking] Skill has reached Level 2. [System]: 400xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: Tech Attribute has reached 2. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Elevating my Reflex Attribute to level 4 had brought a notable enhancement in my fine-motor skills. This improvement was particularly evident when I was slicing algae at Mr. Shori''s stall. My movements had become remarkably swift and assured ¨C I was almost matching Mr. Shori''s pace, which was a bit alarming yet exhilarating. With a few more increases in Reflex, I could very well equal or even surpass his speed. The rate at which the G.E.M.A. System was enhancing my physical capabilities felt completely otherworldly. This advancement in Reflex had another immediate benefit: it led to a level-up in my [Throwing] Skill, where I had invested the System Task Skill Point. Each new level in a skill brought a reduced volume of knowledge downloads, but I noticed something different with Level 4 in [Throwing]. The downloads felt more substantial; more intricate. Although the quantity of information was less, the complexity was significantly higher. For the Level 4 upgrade in [Throwing], I received detailed insights into projectile trajectories and the physics behind them. These elements alone were more profound and nuanced than everything I had learned at Level 1. It was challenging to articulate, but I sensed that the higher-level Skill knowledge downloads were laden with insights and techniques that would typically require years of dedicated study and practice to acquire. It was undoubtedly an incredible advantage. It felt like a cheat code for life and I couldn¡¯t help but feel excited about what future upgrade might hold. The progression in my [Cooking] Skill to the 2nd level brought with it an enlightening deluge of culinary knowledge that nearly floored me. Cooking, it turned out, was far more intricate and nuanced than I had ever imagined, even with my previous life''s experiences. This new level introduced me to a plethora of preparation methods for various foods. I learned about achieving the perfect cooking temperatures, advanced searing techniques, and the art of saut¨¦ing to extract optimal flavour and texture from ingredients, among a host of other, similarly more in-depth techniques when compared to what the first level had wrought. Additionally, I was introduced to an array of cooking tools and gadgets I had never known existed. While I was uncertain how this newfound knowledge of obscure kitchen equipment would benefit me in the future, I was nonetheless grateful. After all, any knowledge gained was a step forward, and I wasn''t one to dismiss a boon, no matter how unexpected it might be. But the real game-changer was the upgrade in my Tech Attribute. Advancing from rank 1 to rank 2 was an experience so intense that it actually did knock me off my feet momentarily. Fortunately, it happened at a moment when Mr. Shori was swamped with customers, his attention completely diverted. The upgrade in my Tech Attribute to level 2 hadn''t just been a minor step forward; it had been a deluge of intricate knowledge that had flooded my mind, leaving me reeling with its intensity and breadth. The information I received was extremely comprehensive, delving into realms of physics, chemistry, and even certain aspects of biology. It was like an academic course compressed into an instant, yet somehow retained with crystal clarity. I had gained insights into various materials, understanding their properties, strengths, and weaknesses as well. I had learned how to identify the right material for a specific purpose, whether it be for crafting a sturdy component or a delicate, intricate piece. The nuances of combining different materials, ways that I had never even considered before, had been laid out before me like a well-organised toolbox, each piece of knowledge fitting perfectly into its place. The knowledge extended to the fundamental principles of physics, unravelling the secrets behind force, motion, and energy in ways that were directly applicable to crafting and creation. Chemistry concepts illuminated the interactions of substances, offering me the tools to predict and manipulate chemical reactions for various crafting processes. The aspects of biology that had been covered, provided insights into how different organic materials could be utilised or modified in crafting. This newfound understanding spanned from the macroscopic to the microscopic, allowing me to consider biological materials in ways that were previously beyond my comprehension in any future crafting endeavours. The intensity of this knowledge download had been such that, even hours later, my head was still throbbing with the echoes of the information. It felt as though I had crammed for the most challenging end-of-year exam over the course of a week, all condensed into a single, overwhelming moment. But despite the temporary discomfort, the excitement of wielding this newfound knowledge was undeniable. The possibilities it opened up for me in the realm of crafting and creation within the world of Neon Dragons were vast and thrilling to contemplate¡ªalthough they would likely have to wait until I could secure a more substantial source of income. Crafting was after all, while extremely powerful, similarly expensive.
Back at my apartment, I resolved to spend the remaining hours of the evening diving into the SPG-01 data-shard. The generous sum of credits Gabriel had invested in this tool for me loomed large in my mind¡ªespecially after Mr. Shori¡¯s payment put into perspective just how much money he had spent on me¡ªreminding me of the slightly guilty feeling that I hadn''t yet fully explored its potential. Gabriel, with his usual selflessness, probably didn''t expect any immediate results from his investment. In his mind, mastering the shard''s contents was a marathon, not a sprint. But here''s the kicker: I wasn''t just any typical user. I had the G.E.M.A. System on my side, making me an unabashed cheater in the best possible way. And boy, did I revel in that edge. After two solid hours of intense focus and learning, my brain felt like it had run a marathon of its own. The mental fatigue was palpable, signalling it was time to call it quits for the day. Carefully, I removed the shard from my neck-port and placed it back into its case, eager to see the fruits of my labour. A quick glance at the System Notifications revealed a satisfying list of accomplishments. Even this comparatively brief session with Kill Joy''s virtual persona had proved immensely beneficial.
[System]: 700xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: [Programming] has reached Level 2. [System]: 300xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: [Netrunning] has reached Level 1. [System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
Today''s progress had been nothing short of a speed-run through various level-ups, and the sense of achievement was immensely gratifying. The initial phase post-coma had been a rapid cascade of advancements, primarily fueled by quick gains in Skills like [Throwing], [Juggling], and [Knives]. Those initial bursts of progress, with their accompanying dopamine highs, had set a thrilling pace. However, as expected, things had started to level off as the low-hanging fruits were picked. But now, the fruits of the meticulous routine and strategy I''d put in place for effective experience grinding were beginning to show. The realisation that all the effort and planning were paying off was exhilarating, akin to discovering a highly efficient farming route in a game that ultimately had turned out to be guide-worthy. The [Programming] Level 2 knowledge download had expanded my understanding into realms that were both intriguing and vastly more complex than the general overview that the first level had granted. Firstly, it had introduced me to the world of algorithm optimization. The subtle art of making code not just functional, but efficient and elegant, was a fascinating puzzle. I learned about time complexity, how to reduce processing time for complex tasks, and the importance of writing clean, maintainable code. In a world where a lot of Crowns were heavily limited on RAM, keeping your algorithms as small as possible was also a massively important consideration. Next came the intricate subject of data structures. I was now familiar with not just arrays and linked lists, but more advanced structures like trees, graphs, and hash tables. Understanding these structures, their uses, and how to implement them efficiently opened up a whole new dimension of programming possibilities. Then, the download had delved into the concepts of more Object-Oriented Programming, or OOP for short. The principles of encapsulation, inheritance, and polymorphism were no longer just abstract terms. I could visualise and implement them, seeing how they could transform a maze of functions and data into a clean, organised system of interrelated objects. This was particularly important when combined with the fourth-layer of coding that existed within Neon Dragon¡¯s Cyber language, as these principles could be used and further elevated when combined with fourth-layer optimizations. Moreover, I was also introduced to database management, learning about different databases, their structures and the languages associated with them¡ªas they were not exclusively written in Cyber. The intricacies of creating, maintaining, and querying databases effectively were now also at my fingertips, allowing me to manage or sift through large sets of data with newfound ease. Lastly, the realm of cybersecurity had begun to unfold before me as well. Basic principles of securing code, understanding vulnerabilities, and the importance of ethical hacking practices were now part of my mental toolkit. Not that I intended to be ethical about any of this, of course. I was primarily learning [Programming] to spring-board into [Quick-Hacks] for my own purposes, after all. No ethical considerations would be part of that equation. Each of these new areas of knowledge wasn''t just simple information for me either; they were tools, just waiting to be wielded in the digital landscape of Neo Avalis going forward¡­
[¡ª Attribute Information: Edge 2¡ª] [The measure of a person''s proficiency in covert operations and their inherent "coolness" in metaphysical terms. It encompasses skills in stealth, precision in eliminations, adeptness in thievery, and all manner of different, similarly risky business, as well as the ability to maintain composure in high-stakes situations. Edge represents the finesse in blending into shadows, executing tasks with discretion, and exhibiting an aura of unflappable confidence.]
[¡ª Attribute Information: Tech 2 ¡ª] [The measure of a person''s expertise and skill in crafting and technology. It determines the proficiency in disassembling complex devices, altering existing technology to enhance its functionality, and creating new gadgets or tools from scratch. It is pivotal in governing all crafting-related skills, encompassing a range of activities from basic item repairs and creation to the intricate assembly of advanced technological constructs.]
Chapter 27 - Evaluations To further complement these newfound capabilities in [Programming], my first level in [Netrunning] was an even more monumental addition to my overall skill set. The first level of [Netrunning] had opened a window into an intricate and expansive world, revealing the multifaceted nature of navigating the Cyberspace in Neon Dragons. The knowledge I had received from the level-up included an introduction to orienting oneself within the Cyberspace. It was a bizarre blend of the virtual and the physical, where one''s ability to move, dodge, or sprint in the cyber world was directly tied to their real-world physical capabilities and Skills. This fusion of digital and physical realities meant that a netrunner''s physical fitness could greatly enhance their effectiveness in the virtual space. The Skill of [Manifestation] was similarly crucial, as it involved creating and manipulating virtual constructs within the three-dimensional Cyberspace itself. These constructs could range from simple tools to complex environments, each serving a specific purpose. [Programming], as a core component, was just as essential for understanding and crafting the software tools used in the digital exploits that could be used within the Cyberspace. My newfound understanding of code and algorithms from the [Programming] Level 2 knowledge drop was bound to become a backbone of my [Netrunning] prowess going forward. [Quick-Hacks] was also a big part of what [Netrunning] would entail. It focused on rapid, on-the-fly coding solutions, often necessary in high-pressure scenarios where immediate responses were crucial. This skill required a blend of creativity and technical acumen, leveraging coding knowledge for swift problem-solving. [Stealth], as one of the first and most important physical-type Skills, in the Cyberspace was about more than just hiding one''s physical presence; it was about concealing one''s digital footprint, evading detection, and sneaking past virtual defences. Other physical-type Skills like [Athletics] and [Acrobatics] surprisingly found their relevance in navigating the Cyberspace as well. They were vital for the physical demands of accessing hardware or performing evasive manoeuvres in risky situations. This first level in [Netrunning] scratched the surface of all these various topics and more, including the basics of cybersecurity in three-dimensional space, the fundamentals of digital espionage, and the rudiments of data extraction and manipulation from digital constructs. Each topic was a gateway to a deeper understanding of the cybernetic world, hinting at the vast potential and complexities awaiting in the higher levels of the Skill. As I had delved into these initial parts of the knowledge, I realised the sheer, ludicrous scope of [Netrunning] and quickly learned that it was much, much more extensive than I had ever anticipated. It was a Skill that demanded not just technical expertise but also physical prowess, strategic thinking, and a deep understanding of both the digital and physical worlds. A true compound-type Skill, that not just relied on, but further expanded on other, pre-existing Skills. I was undoubtedly going to have to delve into netrunning as a whole, as well as the Skill in the future at some point, but for now, the short foray of excessive knowledge from the first level had been enough for me for a while. Lying in bed, my chosen sanctuary for diving into the SPG-01 shard''s complexities, I tried to soothe the persistent throbbing in my head. As I lay there, eyes closed, focusing on the ebb and flow of my breathing, a sudden notification chimed, pulling me from my reverie. It was a message from Oliver, which I promptly opened, curious about its contents. The message was brief and straightforward, yet it carried an air of unintended threat: [Valeria will be home for dinner later today.] A wave of apprehension washed over me. I wasn''t remotely prepared to face Sera''s mother under these circumstances. My days had been consumed with acclimating to this new life and reality, leaving little room for understanding Valeria''s character or her dynamics within the family¡ªespecially her relationship with Sera. The prospect of interacting with her, given my still shaky grasp on Sera''s life and memories, filled me with a mix of dread and uncertainty. ''What does Valeria expect from me? How am I supposed to interact with her?'' The questions swirled in my head, adding to the weight of my already strained mental state. The challenges of adapting to this world had been daunting enough; now, the added complexity of navigating familial relationships loomed over me like a daunting shadow. Our last encounter, what the family''s matriarch, had fondly termed a "family dinner," had been nothing short of a masterclass in self-restraint and, without a doubt, the most surreal experience I''d encountered across both my lives combined. The prospect of facing Valeria again filled me with a sense of unease. I wasn''t ready, but the choice wasn''t mine to make. The message was clear: Valeria would be joining us for dinner later, and another family gathering was inevitable. This unavoidable truth left me with just a few hours to strategize and prepare as best as I could. But what exactly was the right preparation? Valuable information about Valeria, which could guide me in formulating an effective approach, was sorely lacking. No handbook or guide existed for navigating a dinner with someone like her, whose scrutinising gaze could be both unnerving and revealing. Drawing on my past life''s experiences, I focused on what might resonate with a career-driven corporate woman like Valeria. My primary objective had to be to position myself as an asset, not a liability, in her eyes. My approach needed to demonstrate an understanding of her world, aligning with her values and ambitions. My remarkable recovery and swift progress might earn me some favour in Valeria''s eyes, but I was navigating in the dark regarding my predecessor''s rapport with her. What legacy had the original Sera left behind? Was her relationship with Valeria strained or downright disastrous? Gabriel''s scant references to the past hinted at a tumultuous relationship between the original Sera and Valeria, marked by reluctant obedience and frequent clashes that sometimes led to Sera fleeing home. This history left me questioning whether my recent achievements could outweigh any negative perceptions Valeria might hold due to the original Sera''s actions. The hope was that my positive strides could tip the scales in my favour, considering that the original Sera had maintained some connection to the family. However, I couldn''t afford to rely on this hope alone. To me, Valeria was an enigma¡ªa stranger whose maternal connection to Sera''s body I inhabited didn''t automatically translate into trust or understanding. In preparing for this dinner, I had to tread cautiously, treating Valeria not just as a family member, but as a potentially influential figure whose assessment could significantly impact my new life. As I pondered my approach, a strategy began to form. ''Maybe I can leverage my new connections, like my rapport with Mr. Shori and the favour Vega and the Clawed Beasts owe me, to showcase my value,'' I thought. ''And let''s not forget the life-saving rescue of Gabriel. That has to count for something in Valeria¡¯s eyes, right?'' With these thoughts swirling in my head, I rose from the bed. Determined to make a good impression on the family matriarch, I decided to freshen up with another shower. It was crucial to appear at my best, leaving no stone unturned in ensuring I presented myself in the most favourable light possible to Valeria.
Shortly after, Oliver arrived back home, his fatigue palpable from what must have been another gruelling day at work. Our interaction was minimal, each of us preoccupied with our respective concerns¡ªhis mind undoubtedly tangled with work-related issues, while I was consumed by thoughts of Valeria and the impending family dinner. I spent the next hour racking my brain for strategies to impress Valeria, but came up alarmingly short. A few ideas floated around, yet none screamed ''guaranteed success''. My lack of substantial information about her made it challenging to devise any solid plans. I had contemplated seeking Oliver''s insights, but as I emerged from my room to approach him, I could immediately see that it wasn''t the right time. Oliver was visibly burdened by his work troubles, and I regretted that I couldn¡¯t offer any assistance. In all honesty, I felt somewhat adrift. The day had been a triumph in terms of accumulating a significant amount of experience and advancing key Attributes and Skills. However, the shadow cast by Valeria''s expected arrival had swiftly overturned my sense of achievement, replacing it with a sense of impending dread, like the figurative sword of damocles above my head. To my surprise, Gabriel came home earlier than expected, arriving just an hour and a half after Oliver. It was definitely a surprise, but a welcome one. In my mind, I secretly celebrated his early return, ''Gabriel is exactly the person I needed to see right now!'' As he entered, he offered a quick greeting to Oliver, who was still engrossed in his work. Sensing the tense atmosphere, Gabriel wisely gave our father some space and headed straight to our shared room where I was eagerly waiting. "You''re back early," I remarked, watching his silhouette undress behind the metal sheet partitioning our room. "Yeah... I nearly passed out trying to work too hard, so Mr. Schultze sent me home," he responded with a hint of disappointment, as if he felt he had let someone down. "But it''s probably for the best, especially with Mom coming home tonight. It''s been a while since I last saw her, and I wouldn''t mind catching up, y¡¯know?" I really didn¡¯t ¡°y¡¯know¡± at all, considering the sheer terror I felt whenever I thought about that woman, but I could understand the sentiment at least. He did just nearly die a couple days ago, after all. That would put anyone into ¡°I¡¯d like to talk to my Mum¡± mode, I¡¯d imagine. "Talking about that¡­ I have to admit, Gabe, I''m really nervous about tonight''s dinner. I just don''t know how to act around Valeria," I confessed, pouring out my concerns. "What does she expect from me? What would she see as progress on my part? And this whole concept of a family dinner, what''s her goal with it? I''m at a loss trying to figure her out. If you''ve got any insights or advice, I could really use it. I''ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a strategy, but I''m just... stuck, Gabe," I admitted, laying my worries bare. I was very much conscious of the ticking clock, unsure of when Valeria would arrive, and knowing that any information Gabriel could provide might necessitate some last-minute adjustments to my plans. Time was indeed of the essence. Gabriel paused, deep in thought, before finally offering his perspective. "Honestly, Sera, from what I saw last time, you handled Mom pretty well, better than I ever could. You seem more adept at dealing with her than me after your coma¡­" he began, his tone reflective. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "I''m not exactly sure what Mom''s endgame is with these dinners. She''s always been... cryptic about her reasons. But she probably has her motives. As for what she expects from you, I think she might want you to follow in her footsteps," Gabriel said, his expression growing more serious. He then recounted an incident from their past that had caused a significant rift between Valeria and the pre-coma Sera. "There was this one time, Valeria, in her usual commanding way, suggested¡ªwell, more like ordered¡ªyou to work on your speech and focus on your appearance. She was adamant that you shouldn''t tarnish your reputation before even having the chance to use it for your own benefit. Pre-coma Sera didn''t take that well. You were in your rebellious phase, and the idea didn''t sit well with you at all." Gabriel shrugged slightly, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I think that was Valeria''s way of grooming you for a corporate life, or something along those lines. But that''s just my guess. Valeria''s always been hard to read, even for me. Sorry, Sera. I don¡¯t got more than that." Absorbing Gabriel''s insights, I felt a slight easing of my anxiety. A plan began to crystallise in my mind. ''So, Valeria might see me as a potential corporate successor? That''s an angle I can work with,'' I thought, strategizing atop my bed. The idea of diving into the corporate world wasn''t exactly thrilling, but if it meant staying on Valeria''s good side and keeping myself out of danger, I was ready to play the part. Pretending to be an aspiring corporate figure seemed like a small price to pay for peace. ''In the corporate world, showing weakness is akin to signing your own death warrant. That must be why Valeria is such a bitch; she can''t afford to be seen as anything less than ruthless. So, I need to be assertive, yet not overly aggressive. She is, after all, Sera¡¯s mother,'' I reasoned. The plan was to strike a balance¡ªfirm but not overly confrontational. I braced myself for the evening, now armed with a clearer strategy, all thanks to Gabriel''s input. It all boiled down to how well I could perform and, of course, Valeria''s mood. With a deep breath, I prepared to face whatever the dinner might bring. ''I''ve got this,'' I reassured myself, feeling a newfound, albeit still very shaky, confidence bubble up from deep within me.
An hour later, Gabriel and I, freshly dressed in our ostentatiously upscale attire, were about to make our way to the living room. Valeria had arrived and, with her typical assertiveness, summoned us to the family dinner. This time, she had even brought the food herself. I was adorned in the same cerulean evening dress as before. It was my sole option, but the difference from last time was striking. No longer confined to a wheelchair, I could stand tall. Moreover, my body now filled out the dress beautifully, transforming me from what had once been akin to a rolling spectre into someone who actually complemented the dress¡¯s design. The fabric hugged my newfound, modest curves gracefully. Looking in the mirror, I couldn''t help but appreciate the reflection staring back. It was a long time since I''d felt genuinely pretty. I was no stunner by extravagant standards, but this was a considerable upgrade from both my past life''s self and the initial post-coma state of Sera''s body. This newfound confidence was precisely the kind of boost I needed to confront Valeria with conviction. I took a moment to savour the empowering feeling before Gabriel finished up his part of the preparations and we stepped into the living room together. As Gabriel and I entered the dining room, we were greeted by the sight of Oliver and Valeria, already seated and impeccably dressed for the occasion. Unlike us, they wore different attire from our previous family dinner, showcasing their more extensive wardrobe. Oliver, clad in a sleek black three-piece suit with a perfectly matched tie, exuded a refined charm. The ensemble, reminiscent of something from my past life, suited him exceptionally well. Seated beside Valeria, they presented a picture of elegance and harmony, their outfits seemingly chosen to complement each other¡ªa testament, I suspected, to Valeria''s meticulous attention to detail in crafting their public image. As I approached the table, maintaining my composure required a conscious effort, further being bolstered by my Ego Attribute. Valeria''s presence was even more commanding than I remembered, her aura almost tangibly intense. But it wasn¡¯t just her demeanour that caught my attention; it was her appearance. Dressed to the nines, she radiated a level of high-society elegance and regal poise that was a notch above our last encounter. The level of sophistication she exuded was awe-inspiring, turning the dinner into a showcase of her impeccable taste. The dress, a deep, sapphire blue, hugged her form gracefully, cascading down to the floor with an elegant fluidity. Its fabric shimmered subtly under the lights, giving off a soft sheen that seemed to change shades with her movements. It featured a tasteful, plunging neckline that was artfully balanced with long, flowing sleeves, adding a touch of classic elegance to the modern design. The bodice was adorned with intricate beading that caught the light with every turn, creating a mesmerising, almost hypnotising effect. This exquisite detailing subtly drew attention upwards, enhancing the striking steel-grey of her eyes, which appeared even more piercing against the backdrop of her attire. The way the gown''s colour complemented her eyes was no mere coincidence, of course; I knew that it was a deliberate choice that spoke volumes about her meticulous approach to her appearance even for something as relatively mundane as a family dinner. In contrast to the sharp, graceful dress she had donned for their last dinner however, tonight''s ensemble showcased a different facet of her persona. Her ebony-black hair, usually styled in a practical, yet chic manner, was transformed. It was swept up into an elaborate updo, strands artistically woven and pinned to create a structure that was both intricate and effortlessly elegant. The hairstyle added to her regal bearing, lending an air of approachable gracefulness that was less evident in her more formal corporate attire. The absence of the particular dress seemed to soften her overall appearance, yet the underlying strength and authority she commanded seemed somehow elevated above even her corporate self that she had presented the last time around. Approaching the table, I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat that had invariably formed when I had laid eyes on Sera¡¯s mother. Just moments ago I had thought myself pretty, marvelling at myself in the mirror in my room, but compared to the image of beauty and sophistication that was Valeria, I might as well have been a half-dead hobo in some long forgotten alleyway in Neo Avalis¡¯ underbelly. "Sit," Valeria directed, her voice carrying the familiar blend of abrupt command and a deceptive sweetness that suggested dire consequences for disobedience. I obliged immediately, attempting to channel as much grace and poise as I could muster, drawing on memories of exaggerated elegance from the k-dramas and TV series of my past life. My effort, though somewhat theatrical and juvenile, was certainly a step above Gabriel''s approach. He dropped into his seat with the finesse of a brick skimming a lake''s surface, his lack of decorum unintentionally casting me in a more favourable light by comparison. ''At least his lack of polish makes me seem more refined,'' I mused, subtly adjusting my dress upon sitting. ''But I really need to give him a crash course in whatever etiquette I know before our next encounter with Valeria. We can''t afford to slip into her disfavour,'' I planned silently, setting a mental note to coach Gabriel on the finer points of conduct in the presence of our daunting matriarch. Seated opposite Valeria, I consciously mustered all my Ego and determination to maintain eye contact, despite an overwhelming desire to look away. Her gaze was formidable, sending a chill through me that seemed to freeze my blood. ''If her demeanour doesn''t end me, this stress surely will,'' I mused inwardly. Yet, bolstered by the firm resolve granted by my Ego Attribute, I held her gaze, feeling its stabilising effect amidst my internal turmoil. The moment stretched, feeling like an eternity under Valeria''s piercing scrutiny, until she broke the silence with a graceful smile. Her voice, embodying the epitome of corporate sophistication, resonated through the room. "First, I must express my gratitude to both of you for making the effort to join us this evening," she began, her tone effortlessly blending formality with a hint of personal touch. ''As if we had a real choice,'' I thought cynically, suspecting that her words were mere formalities, a veneer of courtesy masking an unspoken mandate. When Valeria moved on to shift her focus directly towards me, however, my muscles instinctively tensed, bracing for her words. "I have been informed of your remarkable recovery, my daughter," she addressed me directly, her words measured and deliberate. "It is indeed heartening to see you liberated from that rather unsightly wheelchair. This progress is most commendable, and it would be negligent of me to fail to acknowledge its significance." Her words, while acknowledging my improvement, carried an air of calculated appraisal, as if she were assessing an asset''s potentially newfound value. ¡®That¡¯s good! Acknowledgements are good! Breathe, Sera. Breathe,¡¯ I consciously reminded myself, taking slow measured breaths, trying to keep my calm under her piercing gaze. Valeria''s next words, however, sent a shockwave of anxiety through me, freezing me in place. "In light of the egregious misdiagnosis you suffered, I have initiated a thorough investigation into the medical practitioners involved on your behalf, daughter," she continued, her tone laced with a controlled, icy resolve. "The emotional distress their gross and utter incompetence has inflicted upon you and our family is intolerable and demands redress. Rest assured, I will not let this matter rest, and I fully know that you all concur with my actions on a fundamental level. I will, naturally, keep you informed of the investigation''s progress and the inevitable consequences that will befall those responsible for this farce." Her words were as sharp as they were deliberate, painting a clear picture of her intent and the lengths she would go to protect her family''s interests. To me however, her statement felt like a veiled accusation, targeting the inexplicable speed of my recovery from what was essentially a state considered beyond recovery. I needed to summon every bit of my Ego Attribute, along with the massive dose of fear and anxiety coursing through my veins, which collectively rooted me to my chair. Internally, I was screaming like a banshee, wanting nothing more than to jump up and escape the tension-filled room. The proposed investigation into the medical team was a minefield of potential discoveries. In reality, the doctors hadn''t misdiagnosed me, after all. They simply hadn''t been equipped to foresee someone like me¡ªa living embodiment of an anomaly, a literal walking enigma, rendering their otherwise accurate predictions completely off the mark for my case. If Valeria''s investigators were thorough and competent, which I had every reason to believe they would be, it wouldn''t take them long to realise that the medical professionals had adhered to all standard procedures. Their prognosis, given my condition at the time, had been perfectly reasonable. This left me to hope that, perhaps by some cosmic twist of fate, the investigators would stumble upon some random, unrelated incompetencies, potentially steering them clear of the true nature of my miraculous recovery. Valeria''s statement left no doubt about the decisiveness of her intentions regarding the investigation. There was a commanding certainty in her voice, an unwavering resolve that indicated arguing or attempting to dissuade her would be futile, and likely detrimental to my standing in her eyes. She spoke with the authority and finality characteristic of someone accustomed to her decisions being unchallenged. As she shifted the conversation away from the investigation, Valeria''s words took on a slightly warmer tone, ¡°Moving beyond this unfortunate matter, I wish to express my acknowledgment of your commendable actions in recent days, daughter. Your adept intervention in saving Gabriel''s life has not gone unnoticed. It would have been a regrettable loss to our family had you not been able to provide the necessary assistance in that critical moment. "While I recognize that mere words of gratitude may seem insufficient under these circumstances, it is important for me to convey my genuine appreciation: Thank you, daughter. Losing Gabriel would have been a not-insignificant blow to our family, and your decisive actions in this regard have not only been noted but are deeply appreciated and deserve further recognition.¡± As Valeria concluded her remarks, she elegantly placed a crimson-coloured shard on the table and gently slid it towards me with a grace and regality that made it seem as if she was bestowing a royal favour. Despite my Ego Attribute''s efforts to maintain my composure, my eyes widened in shock at the recognition of the item before me. It was a restricted credit shard. They were akin to prepaid credit cards of my previous world but with several critical distinctions. Firstly, the credits within the shard were exclusively for purchasing goods and could not be used for services or informal direct transfers. Secondly, and more crucially in this context, the issuer of the shard, in this case, Valeria, would be notified of any transactions made with it and would have to explicitly authorise each one. I quickly grasped Valeria''s underlying motive: She was presenting me with a credit reward that simultaneously served as a test. Through my spending choices, she would be able to gauge my potential value to her. Misusing the credits, in her view, would undoubtedly diminish her estimation of my worth. Yet, the gesture of providing the shard also positioned her as generous and giving to anyone not reading between the lines. Her strategy was undeniably astute, a brilliant means to swiftly evaluate someone''s utility as an asset, and I couldn''t help but admire the cleverness of her approach. I was undoubtedly going to have to seriously consider my purchases carefully, whenever I intended to use the shard¡­ Chapter 28 - Consequences I ¡°Let us commence with our meal, as I¡¯m sure the day has left us all famished,¡± Valeria declared, breaking through my contemplation of the credit shard. As Valeria gracefully concluded her speech, she gestured towards the elegantly set dinner table with a flourish that seemed to say, ''Indulge yourselves, peasants.'' It was an invitation that bordered on a command, delivered with the poise and grandeur characteristic of her. Our plates, identical to those from our previous family dinner, were exquisite porcelain - a rarity in the stark world of Neon Dragons. Each plate had been shrouded by a silvery dome ever since we had entered the living room, adding an element of mystery to what culinary delights might lay beneath. Eager not to provide Valeria any cause for criticism, I delicately lifted the dome from my plate, striving to embody grace and poise, aiming to mirror Valeria¡¯s general demeanour as much as possible. Gabriel and Oliver, on the other hand, removed their covers with less finesse, Gabriel''s clumsy action drawing a slight narrowing of Valeria¡¯s eyes. His reaction was akin to a physical recoil from being struck across the face. In stark contrast, Oliver received a radiant smile from Valeria, which sent an involuntary chill down my spine. I couldn''t help but ponder the stark differences in her reactions. Valeria''s treatment of Oliver was strikingly different from her interactions with Gabriel and me. ''She''s the strangest person I''ve ever met,'' I thought. ''How can she exhibit such contrasting attitudes towards Oliver compared to Gabriel and myself? We¡¯re supposed to be her children but she treats us like a pack of street rats.'' Putting the thoughts aside for now, not willing to get distracted while I tried to keep my ¡°perfect-corpo-daughter¡± act running, I took a closer look at the meal that Valeria had prepared for me. The moment I did, however, I was frozen solid at the sight. The meal in front of me was nothing short of a culinary masterpiece, a stark contrast to the simple noodles from our last family dinner. Instead, it was a lavish spread that seemed to leap straight out of a high-end Cyberpunk-genre magazine. The plate before me showcased a culinary rarity in the dystopian expanse of Neon Dragons¡ªa sumptuous piece of lab-grown meat. In a world where genuine meat was more of a legend than a dietary staple for the common folk, its presence on my plate was downright mythological. I recalled an episode from one of the Neon Dragons¡¯ playthroughs that I had followed in which the main character had embarked on an elaborate three-part quest just to acquire a mere 220-gram portion of this coveted ingredient for a special recipe to unlock a specific achievement in the game. Yet here it was, served to me as part of a seemingly simple, yet altogether very strange, family dinner. The meat was, naturally, expertly cooked, its outer layer seared to a delightful caramelised hue, indicating a mastery of culinary technique. It lay amidst an arrangement of other equally impressive components. There were mounds of vibrant green algae, a staple of the Neo Avalis diet, cooked to a tender perfection that belied its humble origins. Beside the algae, a small cluster of soy-based accompaniments added a contrasting texture, their crispness a perfect foil to the meat''s tenderness. But what truly set the plate apart was the presence of seemingly real eggs as well, another rarity in this futuristic world I had found myself in. They were prepared with a finesse that allowed the yolks to remain runny, adding a rich, luxurious element to the meal. It was clear that no expense had been spared in preparing this dish, a striking contrast to our last, simpler meal. Each element of the dish was a blend of the Cyberpunk-genre staples with a touch of rare, luxurious ingredients, creating a balance that was both intriguing and mouthwatering. The extravagance of it all made me wonder if this was Valeria¡¯s way of acknowledging my surprisingly swift recovery and Gabriel''s recent survival, or whether there were other reasons at play. Was it an olive branch, or perhaps a celebration in her own unique, inscrutable style? The complexity of Valeria''s motives were as hard to decipher as ever, but at that moment, I chose to focus on the meal, appreciating the effort and resources that had gone into it. ''Enjoy the meal now, ponder the reasons later,'' I thought to myself, preparing to savour this rare treat. After all, it was very likely going to be one of the only times I was going to eat meat or eggs in this world, unless I managed to somehow snatch a well-paying gig somewhere. Glancing at Gabriel and Oliver''s plates, they too were graced with equally lavish meals. Gabriel began to speak, his voice tinged with awe, "Whoa, Mum, this is¡­!" But he cut himself off abruptly, catching a sharp look from Valeria. The unspoken message was clear: Casual remarks were not welcome at this table. If you wanted to speak up, you had to do so by observing proper form. Oliver, meanwhile, expressed his amazement immediately afterwards, in his usual, casual way. "Wow, honey, this is incredible! You really didn''t have to go to such lengths for us, you know?!" His words were genuine, reflecting the surprise and appreciation he felt. The moment Oliver expressed his gratitude, Valeria''s demeanour shifted dramatically. Gone was the stern, commanding presence, replaced instead by a radiance of almost childlike glee. Her response to Oliver, dripping with an overly sweet affection, was a stark contrast to her usual austere self and a polar opposite of the way she had reacted to Gabriel¡¯s earlier attempts. "Oh, it''s absolutely my pleasure, darling! I''d do anything for you!" she cooed, her voice a syrupy concoction of delight and warmth. The contrast and the overly sweet nature of it made me almost throw up in my mouth, but I barely managed to keep the bile down. "After all, it''s a special day, and what better way to celebrate than with some extraordinary cuisine?" Choosing to focus on the last part of her words, rather than having to hold back the bile from even acknowledging the first part, my prior thoughts seemed to have been confirmed. ¡®So this is Valeria¡¯s way of showing her affection¡­ maybe?¡¯ I thought to myself, trying to slowly, piece by piece, put together some kind of a profile for the person that was Sera¡¯s¡ªand now my¡ªbiological mother. Focusing her attention back to the rest of the table after seemingly having to forcibly rip her eyes from Oliver, Valeria¡¯s face returned to it¡¯s usual cold, regal demeanour as she imperiously gestured towards the food, she announced, "Please, enjoy this meal. It is but a small token in light of the events we''ve recently navigated." I opted for a deep bow, silently acknowledging her generosity without overstepping any boundaries. Recalling the myriad of high-society dramas I had watched in my past life, I was keenly aware of the unspoken rules at such formal gatherings, which I silently hoped applied to this strange family dinner dynamic as well. The key was to follow the host''s lead, and in this case, Valeria hadn''t explicitly indicated for us to begin eating. ''If she truly intends for us to start, she''ll make it clear,'' I reasoned internally. Valeria wasn''t one to mince words or be indirect in her commands. My cautious approach proved prudent when I heard the clatter of utensils from Gabriel''s direction. He had eagerly reached for his cutlery but was abruptly halted by a sharp look from Valeria, causing him to involuntarily drop them back onto the table. It was a clear reminder of the careful balance required in navigating this family dinner. Valeria''s following movements were an elegant display of poise and precision. With a practised, languid grace, she lifted her fork and knife, piercing the fork lightly into the succulent meat. As she did so, the aroma that wafted up was tantalising, and a bead of juice glistened at the puncture site, enhancing the appeal of the dish. All the while, her steel-grey eyes remained fixed on Gabriel, unyielding and intense. For a moment, I was genuinely concerned for Gabriel''s well-being. The level of tension that Valeria''s mere gaze could impose was something I knew all too well, something that I was sure could stop somebody¡¯s heart dead. It was almost as if the air in the room had become dense, laden with unspoken expectations and silent judgments. Finally, Valeria relented, her focus shifting to her meal as she began to slice through the meat with precise, calculated strokes. I could hear Gabriel next to me, his breaths quick and shallow, a subtle indication of the immense relief he felt at being released from the matriarch''s scrutinising stare. Deciding to let Gabriel recover on his own, I turned my attention back to my own plate. It was essential that I focused on the task at hand: Leaving a lasting, positive impression on Valeria. Mimicking Valeria''s elegant actions, I used all my control and finesse, a direct application of my refined Reflex Attribute. It was challenging to maintain my composure, given the enticing allure of the meal before me, but I leaned heavily on the strength of my Ego Attribute as well, which seemed to always become particularly assertive in Valeria''s presence. With deliberate slowness, I emulated Valeria''s precise movements, carefully cutting a piece of the delectable meat and bringing it to my lips. I mirrored the timing of her first bite with precision, savouring the delightful flavour as I gently closed my teeth around the succulent morsel. It was a balancing act of indulging in the exquisite taste while maintaining an air of sophisticated restraint. The first bite of the lab-grown meat was an explosion of flavours in my mouth, far surpassing any street food I had consumed so far in the world of Neon Dragons. It was a revelation, a symphony of taste and texture, exquisitely prepared and cooked to perfection. As I chewed, I couldn''t help but compare it to the meat from my past life. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. This was different, better in a way that was hard to articulate. It was as if the chefs had found the ideal balance of flavours, creating a culinary masterpiece that transcended my previous experiences on a fundamental level. However, as the initial delight began to settle, something else made its presence known¡ªa subtle, lingering aftertaste that felt severely out of place. It was likely due to my growing [Cooking] Skill and slowly increasing Intuition Attribute that I could even begin to detect it. This was no ordinary flavour; it was something that shouldn''t be there, a slight but unmistakable hint of something artificial, perhaps a seasoning or additive not typically associated with high-quality meat. This discovery set off alarm bells in my mind, igniting a mixture of curiosity and concern. What was this unexpected component, and why was it in this otherwise impeccable dish? I immediately stopped chewing the meat in my mouth, my eyes wide, as my mind raced with possibilities, but before I could grasp onto any of them, I caught the slightest hint of a smile tugging at Valeria¡¯s impeccable face. ¡®She did something to the meal¡­!¡¯ I realised. But now, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place: Should I spit out the meat; the mythical ingredient that likely cost more than I could make at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall in many months combined; and incur Valeria¡¯s wrath or continue eating the meat despite whatever addition she had added? ¡®This is definitely a test, but what exactly is the correct solution?! If I continue to eat, despite having realised that something was off, it would show her that I was willing to follow her every directive¡ªdefinitely something she would undoubtedly value in an asset, I¡¯d imagine. But if I stopped, got rid of the meat and spoke up, I would demonstrate knowledge beyond what Sera should normally have been able to possess, something that might similarly be valuable to her. I can explain it away by way of my apprenticeship with Mr. Shori having given me some culinary experience¡­ I¡¯d also demonstrate some backbone, something that was undoubtedly necessary in a corpo woman¡ªthe exact thing Valeria wants me to become,¡¯ I thought feverishly, my entire body tensing up from the pressure of the situation. ¡®Which one does she value more¡­?! An asset or some kind of an heir?!¡¯ Before I could make my decision, however, I heard Gabriel next to me noisily bring his fork to his lips, a sudden realisation dawned on me, and a chill coursed through my veins. Valeria''s slight smile, barely perceptible yet unmistakably there, was the giveaway. ¡®She''s tampered with Gabriel¡¯s food as well¡­ This isn''t just a test for me!¡¯ The thought was a jolt to my system, propelling me into action for the sake of Gabriel, to whom I owed so much in this new life. With a deftness I hoped appeared refined enough to meet Valeria¡¯s high standards, I swiftly yet delicately intercepted Gabriel¡¯s hand, pulling out the fork and meat before he could close his mouth. ¡°Sera, what¡ª¡± he began, but a stern glance from me silenced him mid-sentence. ¡®Perhaps I truly am more like Valeria than I care to admit,¡¯ I mused internally, having to admit that Gabriel¡¯s recent comment hadn¡¯t been too far off the mark. Realising the extent of my deviation from protocol, I knew there was no half-measure now. I had to see this through. Delicately, I used the napkin beside my plate to remove the uneaten meat from my mouth, ensuring my actions were as graceful as possible under the circumstances. Then, steeling myself, I raised my eyes to meet Valeria¡¯s. Her unchanged smile was now accompanied by a slightly raised eyebrow, clearly signalling to me that I was treading on dangerously thin ice. It was a moment of truth, and my next words had to be chosen with utmost care. Summoning every ounce of Ego and tact I possessed, I steadied my voice as best I could and addressed Valeria with a mixture of caution and confidence. "Mother, I must express my deepest gratitude for this extraordinary meal, particularly for the rarity of the ingredients. However," I paused, choosing my next words with the utmost care, "during my recent apprenticeship with Mr. Shori, I''ve developed a heightened sensitivity to culinary nuances. And, I couldn''t help but notice an unusual element in the flavour profile of this dish. It''s certainly intriguing, but it raises some potential concerns." I glanced briefly at Gabriel, whose bewildered expression mirrored my own internal turmoil, before returning my focus to Valeria. Her expression remained unreadable, but the slight arch of her eyebrow hinted at a mixture of curiosity and challenge. "I hope you don''t perceive this as impertinence, but rather as a testament to the knowledge I''ve acquired and my commitment to directness and transparency, values that I believe are crucial in both family and corporate environments, when appropriate," I continued, hoping to maintain a balance between humility and assertiveness, that was more heavily leaning towards the first. The room felt charged with a silent tension as I awaited Valeria¡¯s response, unsure if I had navigated her test successfully or stepped into a trap of my own making. My heart pounded in my chest, but I held her gaze, showing no sign of backing down, fully knowing that I might have just made a huge mistake. After what felt like an eternity to me, Valeria finally replied, her true feeling covered by an impassive, miniscule smile as always, ¡°It seems that your recent incident has truly jolted you awake from whatever slumber you had been in before, daughter. It is most fortuitous to see indeed, that you have seemingly found yourself unable to continue your juvenile behaviour from before. You always were behaving way below your station and means¡­¡± I was unable to fully grasp whatever it was that Valeria had just tried to tell me, ¡®Is¡­ is that a compliment? What does that even mean?!¡¯ Valeria then set aside her utensils and, with a gesture that seemed to defy the elegant simplicity of her attire, produced a tiny vial from seemingly nowhere. I couldn''t help but marvel at the sleight of hand, briefly wondering where she could have concealed it. Her next words brought me back to the present with a jolt. ¡°You are indeed correct: Both your meal and Gabriel¡¯s were... altered.¡± At that, Oliver finally looked up, having enjoyed his luxurious meal up until that point as if nothing strange was happening around him at all. I truly envied him for his seemingly oblivious mindset. He spoke up, not having quite finished the bite in his mouth, which, if Gabriel or I had done so in Valeria¡¯s presence, would have likely ended with us being thrown off the top of the megabuilding itself. ¡°Is there a problem with the food, Val?" His tone carried a hint of concern, but it lacked the urgency that the situation, in my opinion, warranted. Valeria''s demeanour instantly softened as she turned to Oliver, her voice dripping with a honeyed tone reserved only for him. "Oh, nothing to fret about, my love. I was just implementing a little... corrective measure for our children. They''ve been somewhat lacking recently, you understand. I''m sure you wouldn''t object to a bit of... educational intervention?" Her words, though laced with sweetness, carried an underlying chill that sent a shiver down my spine. My heart pounded against my ribcage, my Ego Attribute straining to maintain my composure and keeping me from bolting out the apartment door at the revelations. ¡®Disappoint her?! What did I do wrong¡­? Where did I mess up¡­?! Corrective measures and education?!¡¯ My faint glimmer of hope, kindled by Oliver¡¯s initial reaction, quickly fizzled out with his next words. ¡°Ah, well, if they messed up somehow, then I definitely think teaching them about it is the right choice. You always were the more knowledgeable about the whole ¡®raising of children¡¯ thing between the two of us. I have the utmost confidence in your approach, my dear.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. ¡®She is the more knowledgeable one about this?! What the fuck?!¡¯ My mind was reeling with questions, such as, ¡°How in the actual fuck did original Sera and Gabriel survive this long,¡± if that was true? ¡°Thank you, darling,¡± Valeria responded, her voice unusually tinged with genuine emotion. It seemed Oliver¡¯s affirmation had struck a chord, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in her otherwise impenetrable facade. As Oliver blissfully resumed his meal, Valeria¡¯s icy gaze swung back to me and Gabriel, the brief interlude of warmth evaporating instantly. It was clear that our momentary respite had ended, and we were once again under her stern scrutiny. Valeria''s tone was measured yet laced with a distinct undercurrent of anger, her words precisely chosen and delivered with corporate-like precision and regality, underscored by a genuine displeasure. "Now, as for why I find myself deeply disappointed with you two, I had harboured the hope you would recognize and address your errors independently. Alas, it appears my expectations may have been overly optimistic," she remarked, her gaze piercingly fixed on us. "Gabriel, specifically," she continued, her voice sharpening as she turned her attention to my brother, who visibly tensed under her scrutiny. "I am profoundly disenchanted, even downright embarrassed by your recent predicament. I have invested considerable resources to ensure your growth into a strong, capable individual, worthy of being my eldest. Yet, you tarnish my efforts so carelessly?" Her words were like a chilling wind, cutting through the room with an almost tangible severity, reminiscent of an austere mediaeval monarch delivering a grim verdict. "If you had been ambushed by corporate rivals or even gang members, that could have been a different matter. But to be almost fatally injured by mere scavengers? The lowest rungs of our society, those barely able to lift themselves from the squalor they dwell in? And it is these wretches you heedlessly allowed to nearly end your life?¡± She gestured broadly in my direction as she continued, ¡°If not for your sister''s remarkable recovery, you would have perished, rendering all my efforts, all my work for you, utterly futile. Even more distressingly, it would have assuredly saddened Oliver, deeply. Do you comprehend the gravity of my words, Gabriel? Such an incident must never, under any circumstances, occur ever again." The finality in her tone as she stressed ''ever'' resonated powerfully, echoing in my mind long after she had finished speaking. As Valeria¡¯s regal and authoritative tone continued to command the room, her words were both celebratory and critical. ¡°While today¡¯s meal is indeed a gesture of celebration for both your and your sister¡¯s recoveries, your recent actions have cast a shadow over this family''s reputation. To address this failing and ensure you are better equipped to handle such situations in the future, I have arranged for you to commence training at the Arkion Dojo. You will attend four times a week for intensive physical conditioning and martial arts instruction. It is evident that your current state leaves much to be desired in terms of self-defence.¡± This revelation about the dojo instantly piqued my interest. ¡®A dojo...? That could be incredibly useful for me too, especially with my own plans involving the scavs...¡¯ The thought sparked a glimmer of opportunity in my mind. Emboldened by Valeria¡¯s earlier response to my initiative, I felt an unexpected surge of confidence. Seizing this newfound courage, I interjected without fully considering the potential consequences¡ªa hesitation that, if given room, would likely have silenced me due to my overwhelming fear of Valeria. ¡°Mother, if you¡¯ll permit me,¡± I began cautiously, aware that my words were teetering on the edge of Valeria''s tolerance. The stern look she shot my way almost stopped my heart, but her silence seemed to grant me a reluctant permission to continue. ¡°Considering my own recent brush with mortality, and witnessing Gabriel''s close encounter with it as well, I''ve realised the importance of self-defence. In the past few days, I''ve ventured outside our apartment, and each time, I''ve felt a concerning vulnerability. Access to self-defence training such as at the Arkion Dojo, even if it''s just enough to fend off a lowly attacker or two, would be invaluable to me as well.¡± As I spoke, Valeria''s expression remained an unreadable mask, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Desperate to leverage my request into something more appealing to her, I added a strategic point. ¡°Moreover, as the daughter of a woman of your corporate stature, I believe it¡¯s prudent I learn to defend myself. There may come a time when I might be targeted by rival corporate entities as a means to get to you. This, surely, is a possibility we want to avoid. In lieu of these thoughts, would you permit me to accompany my brother to the Arkion Dojo?¡± My words were carefully chosen, hoping to strike a chord with Valeria''s protective instincts and her corporate sensibilities. In that instant, I silently praised my decision to choose the [Polyglot] Trait at the beginning of this journey. Its value had become crystal clear, especially in situations like these, where the right choice of words was crucial in navigating conversations with Valeria. Initially, I had thought the Trait''s main benefit would lie in mastering foreign languages, but it turned out that its ability to match Valeria''s sophisticated vernacular was just as vital. This linguistic prowess gave me a distinct advantage, particularly when compared to Gabriel''s experiences. Not once had I been reprimanded for my manner of speaking around her, a stark contrast to Gabriel''s encounters. This, I hoped, was a positive indicator of my standing in her eyes. Even despite that, however, being under her scrutinising gaze as a result of having spoken out of turn, I felt cold sweat run down my back as I anxiously awaited her answer¡­ Chapter 29 - Consequences II As I maintained my gaze on Valeria, leveraging every ounce of strength my Ego Attribute offered to remain outwardly composed despite the shallow, panic-tinged breaths I was drawing, my mind raced. I mentally replayed my request, scrutinising each word for potential missteps. Was this internal review a desperate attempt to distract myself from the crushing, tension-filled silence that hung in the air after my bold proposition? Undoubtedly. But having already crossed the proverbial line, my only option now was to brace for whatever repercussions might come swirling my way. Every second felt like an eternity, each ticking moment amplifying my anxiety and the palpable tension that pressed down on me like a physical weight. My back was already soaked with sweat by the time I had finished speaking, yet the piercing intensity of Valeria''s subsequent gaze was a whole new level of intimidation, far beyond anything I could have ever anticipated. There was nothing left for me to do but to focus on maintaining the semblance of something approaching steady breaths, to prevent myself from fainting due to the overwhelming stress and lack of oxygen. Finally, after what seemed like an endless expanse of time where my heart raced and I half-expected to keel over any moment, Valeria responded. Her voice, usually an unyielding cascade of authority, now carried a hint of curiosity, perhaps even a touch of amusement. ¡°My, what a surprise it is to witness my daughter voicing her desires so assertively. Quite a significant development, wouldn¡¯t you agree, darling?¡± she addressed Oliver, her words tinged with a note of sardonic mirth. Oliver, seemingly oblivious to the underlying tension, nodded with enthusiasm, his perception apparently misconstruing the dynamics at play. ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t befit me to quash the ambition of a young woman endeavouring to find her footing, now would it?¡± Valeria continued, her tone patronising yet oddly approving. ¡°I shall acquiesce to your request, daughter. Your rationale appears both reasonable and pragmatic. However, let me be abundantly clear,¡± her voice dropped, adopting a chillingly stern quality, ¡°I trust it goes without saying that Oliver and I expect you to truly appreciate the gravity of this opportunity. I need not spell out just how profoundly disappointed we would be to learn that you had not, of course.¡± Her words were laced with an icy, toxic undertone that hinted at the unspoken consequences, should I fail to meet whatever standards Valeria would set for my martial arts training. I couldn¡¯t help but swallow a massive lump that had inadvertently formed in my throat, the veiled threat having landed very precisely. ¡°I will ensure that the regimen and instruction at the Akion Dojo are on par with those arranged for your brother,¡± Valeria announced, her tone carrying the weight of an executive decision. ¡°Your schedule will be duly updated with the necessary details regarding your attendance. I trust this demonstration of my goodwill will help us move past any previous discord that might have existed between us. Your recent behaviour, far more rational and in line with your standing, is indeed commendable and worthy of being mentioned, daughter. It is remarkable, indeed, how a simple, close encounter with ones own mortality can alter ones perspective on life.¡± The way she articulated those last words sent an involuntary shiver through me. The way she had spoken of death''s transformative power felt less like a casual remark and more like a subtle warning. However, still finding my footing in deciphering Valeria''s complex persona, I couldn¡¯t be entirely sure. Her words lingered in the air, leaving their imprint of ambiguity and latent power, as her gaze met mine once again. Instinctively, I recognized this as my cue¡ªa silent directive gleaned from my extensive k-drama indulgences in my previous life¡ªto express my profound gratitude for her generosity. Mustering all the corporate finesse I could, I offered my thanks to Valeria. ¡°I am deeply grateful for this opportunity, Mother. Your willingness to accommodate my request is greatly appreciated, and I assure you, I fully comprehend the responsibility that comes with it,¡± I said, my voice adopting a formal, corporate-like tone that I hoped mirrored Valeria''s own. Valeria acknowledged my thanks with a nod, a subtle yet unmistakable signal that she was satisfied with my response. Without missing a beat, she swiftly redirected the conversation back to Gabriel, her tone once again underscored by a tinge of disappointment. ¡°Gabriel, let us revisit our earlier discussion,¡± she began, her words sharp and clear. ¡°I must reiterate my deep disappointment in your recent actions. The danger you placed yourself in was not only reckless but also tarnished the reputation of our family.¡± She paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in before continuing with precise expectations for his upcoming training. ¡°At the Arkion Dojo, you will be required to undergo rigorous training sessions, four times a week without fail. This will include advanced physical conditioning, as well as intensive martial arts training. You will be expected to show marked improvement in your physical capabilities and combat skills. Any absence or lack of progress will be reported to me directly, and I trust you understand that such reports will be met with... further discussion.¡± Gabriel, visibly swallowing hard, nodded in understanding, his voice steady but subdued as he affirmed his comprehension of her demands. ¡°I understand, Mother. I will meet your expectations without fail.¡± As Valeria''s piercing gaze shifted toward me, a palpable sense of dread washed over me. The realisation struck hard and fast: Gabriel wasn''t the only one in her bad books. Her earlier words echoed in my mind, a clear indication that I too had somehow landed in her crosshairs. The muscles in my body instinctively tensed, bracing for what was to come. Valeria¡¯s eyes, previously tinged with a semblance of curiosity and amusement, now bore an unmistakable shade of annoyance, and behind that, a simmering undercurrent of genuine anger. A wave of panic surged through me, my thoughts racing. ¡®Holy fuck, what did I do to tick her off like this?! I tried my best to not mess up in any way. Where did I go wrong?!¡¯ The anxiety was almost overwhelming, my heart pounding in my chest like a frantic drumbeat. Valeria''s usually stoic face, now etched with displeasure, was a sight I never thought I¡¯d witness, and it took every ounce of my willpower to keep from succumbing to the fear that threatened to consume me. Valeria''s next words, delivered with a glacial precision, felt like a cold shock to my system. "While I acknowledge and appreciate your efforts in the recent events involving Gabriel''s unfortunate incident, as well as your astonishing recovery defying the absurd prognosis of those charlatan medic ''professionals'', I must express my profound disappointment in you, Seraphine." The impact of her words was like a physical slap to the face, jolting me. The way she used my full name, something she hadn¡¯t done before, preferring the formal "daughter," sent chills down my spine. "I had held onto the hope that you would recognize the grave error in your recent actions. Yet, it appears you, much like your older brother, lack the depth of consideration necessary to reflect appropriately on your actions. Allow me to enlighten you on the nature of your oversight, with the expectation that such clarification will not be necessary in the future: During your intervention to aid Gabriel, you enlisted the assistance of an individual from this very floor, correct?" Her words caused my eyes to widen in sudden understanding. ''She''s referring to the man who helped me with Gabriel''s transport to Dr. Maltrick... How could I not have realised?! If he lives on this floor, he must have connections to Ether Labs, where Valeria works, too! He would undoubtedly know Gabriel and I are her children¡­'' My mind raced, piecing together the implications of my actions and their potential impact on Valeria''s corporate image. Seeing the dawning realisation on my face, Valeria''s expression softened marginally, a small concession to my apparent comprehension of the gravity of the situation. ¡°I see now that you, albeit retrospectively, acknowledge the significant misjudgment you have made. In your oversight, you inadvertently obliged Mr. Stirling to bear a substantial obligation. ¡°He has since approached me to redeem this debt, a request I cannot rightfully refuse given the circumstances you have orchestrated, daughter. This places me in an unenviable predicament, as this unforeseen obligation now encroaches upon my professional focus, the very foundation of our livelihoods here. ¡°I presume you grasp the magnitude of the complications your shortsighted actions have wrought? One might argue that without Mr. Stirling''s intervention, Gabriel''s situation could have been dire, but that situation arose from his very own failings as well. Moreover, had you not encountered your near-fatal incident and subsequent coma recently, such a predicament would never have arisen in the first place. All of these occurrences circle back to a singular flaw: A lack of foresight and consideration on both of my children¡¯s parts.¡± Valeria¡¯s words were like a searing flame, scorching across the table towards Gabriel and, primarily, me. In that moment, I was too overwhelmed to muster any semblance of a response, silently enduring the sting of Valeria¡¯s chastisement. Valeria¡¯s expression reverted to its typical frosty demeanour as she continued, her previous irritation and anger seemingly assuaged by her stern admonition. ¡°It appears, however, that you have managed to derive some valuable insights from your recent shortcomings, daughter. Your request earlier was unexpected yet commendable. It is encouraging to observe a semblance of proactivity in you, albeit in its nascent stage. Persist along this newfound trajectory following your providential recovery, and I envisage a possibility where you could become a viable prospect for roles within Ether Labs in the future.¡± Her statement, though delivered in her usual detached manner, was like a soothing salve to my frayed nerves. Internally, I couldn''t help but interpret her words as an accolade of sorts, ¡®That¡¯s high praise, isn¡¯t it? She essentially implied that I could have a place at the company she works for if I continue to demonstrate this corporate acumen, right?! Thank god that I decided to try and assuage her with this strange corporate speech and behavior!¡¯ Valeria¡¯s demeanour took on a more serious tone as she elaborated, ¡°Presently, I am deeply involved in a substantial project at Ether Labs. The imposition of Mr. Stirling''s request, while seemingly benign, is in actuality a considerable distraction. It is a liability I can ill afford at this juncture.¡± Her words carried the weight of her professional commitment, underscoring the gravity of the situation. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The emphasis she placed on the problematic nature of this debt¡ªa debt that I had inadvertently saddled her with¡ªwas palpable. It felt as though her words were meticulously crafted to elicit a specific response from me: An offer to shoulder the burden of this debt myself. As the realisation dawned on me, I gathered my thoughts and courageously asked for permission to speak. ¡°Mother, if I may,¡± I began, adopting a tone that mirrored her corporate precision, ¡°I fully acknowledge the gravity of the situation that my actions have precipitated. It is a fundamental principle, both in personal and corporate realms, to address one''s own liabilities. Therefore, I propose to personally manage and resolve the debt incurred with Mr. Stirling, within the bounds of my capabilities. It is my duty to rectify this matter, ensuring it no longer hinders your focus on the crucial project at your work.¡± As I finished, Valeria¡¯s expression softened ever so slightly into a minuscule smile, a subtle indication of approval. It seemed my offer had struck the right chord, aligning with her expectations and, perhaps, her unspoken desire for me to take responsibility for my own actions. Valeria paused, her expression contemplative as if weighing my offer, despite her having not-so-subtly steered the conversation in this very direction. I internally noted the oddity of her approach but remained steadfast in my role as the dutiful corpo daughter, hoping it would further solidify my seemingly, slowly improving standing in her eyes. After a moment, Valeria gave a slight nod of approval, her corporate demeanour intact. ¡°I must further commend your newfound grasp of responsibility, daughter. It is refreshing and aligns with the ethos of Ether Labs. Your willingness to address this matter directly is indicative of a mature and proactive approach and is very much worth pointing out.¡± She then accessed her cerebral interface, and I observed with intrigue that her eyes did not shift to the familiar blue glow that I had come to associate with such interactions. ''A higher-tier implant or proprietary Ether Labs technology, perhaps?'' I mused. It was another piece of the puzzle that was Valeria, adding to her enigmatic persona. Valeria continued, her tone laced with a hint of caution, ¡°You will relay any and all requests made by Mr. Stirling to me immediately. I wish to review them for any potential pitfalls. While your initiative is appreciated, it is paramount that we mitigate any risks. Mr. Stirling, while an esteemed resident of this floor, warrants a degree of scrutiny above the usual norm.¡± Her words left no room for misinterpretation¡ªValeria did not trust Mr. Stirling. I doubted that she truly trusted anyone aside from Oliver, but it was especially apparent in this instance. It was clear that she wanted to maintain a degree of control over the situation, and my role was to be the intermediary, navigating this delicate debt repayment while keeping her informed. It was a fine line to walk, but one I was prepared to tread, understanding the potential benefits of staying in Valeria¡¯s good graces. Acknowledging Valeria''s directive, I nodded with a respectful depth that mirrored her own characteristic gesture, careful to avoid any hint of mockery. "Understood, mother. I will promptly convey any of Mr. Stirling''s requests to you," I stated, ensuring my tone matched the seriousness of the situation. Internally, I couldn''t help but feel the toll of the evening. Interactions with Valeria were not just mentally draining but physically taxing as well. The continuous tension of maintaining a poised and respectful demeanour for such an extended period was gruelling. ''A break from all this would be more than welcome,'' I mused silently, the strain of the dinner manifesting as a subtle weariness in my posture. Eager yet apprehensive, I waited for Valeria''s response, hoping my compliance had met her expectations. ¡°Very well. I appreciate your alignment with my perspective and directives, daughter,¡± Valeria stated with an air of finality. ¡°Now, let us shift to a more pleasing subject. It has come to my attention that we have yet to properly commemorate your 15th birthday, an occasion overshadowed by your unfortunate brush with mortality and the subsequent coma. While it''s undeniable that the circumstances leading to this delay were a result of your own misjudgments, it would be neglectful of us not to celebrate this milestone post-facto, especially in light of your newfound zest post-recovery. ¡°Therefore, Oliver and I have concurred to grant you a singular request for a birthday gift, within reason, of course. This offer stands for something you desire but are unable to secure through your current means. I trust you find this proposal a fitting resolution to this oversight, daughter?" Caught off guard by this abrupt segue from a high-stress lecture to discussing birthday presents, I struggled momentarily to maintain my composure. Taking a brief moment, I reached for my glass to take a quick sip from the orange-coloured juice, which was decidedly not orange juice, no matter how much the package it had been poured from tried to tell me that it was. I placed the glass carefully back on the table, my mind already churning with thoughts on how to navigate Valeria''s offer. ''At the moment, I''m not entirely sure of the limits of what I actually can achieve on my own. It''s best to simply accept her proposal with grace and use the time to evaluate what I might need that''s beyond my current reach. And then there''s the matter of the restricted credit shard from Valeria to factor into my calculations as well¡­¡¯ This mental note served as a reminder to tread carefully, balancing the opportunity presented by her offer with the inherent limitations and surveillance it entailed. I resolved to approach this with the same strategic thoughtfulness that had become a necessity in dealing with Valeria, ensuring that whatever request I eventually made would align with my goals and maintain the delicate balance of our slowly warming relationship. With a composed smile and a nod of gratitude, I accepted Valeria''s offer. "Thank you, mother, father. I appreciate this kind gesture and will give careful thought to any request I might have." Oliver, seizing the opportunity to join the conversation, leaned forward with a warm expression. "Happy belated birthday, Sera! We''re all just so relieved and happy about your recovery. It''s really something worth celebrating!" Valeria''s response, although maintaining her usual corporate tone, carried a tinge of genuine sentiment. "Indeed, a belated happy birthday, Seraphine. Your resilience and recent developments have been... noteworthy indeed." Gabriel, not missing a beat, chimed in enthusiastically, "Yeah, happy birthday, Sera! It''s great having you back in action." His smile was genuine and infectious. I acknowledged their wishes with a heartfelt, "Thank you, everyone. Your words mean a lot to me." Then, gracefully steering the conversation back to Valeria, so as to not take too much attention away from the matriarch, I added, "Mother, was there anything else you wished to discuss this evening?" Valeria''s icy smile lingered as she turned her attention back to the matters at hand, the familial interlude giving way to the continuation of her carefully orchestrated dinner agenda. ¡°Your newfound sense of decorum is appreciated, daughter,¡± Valeria began, her words causing a surge of quiet triumph within me. ¡®Nailed it!¡¯ I thought, though I kept my expression neutral. ¡°Indeed, there is another matter that requires our attention this evening. While initially, I had planned to discuss this after dinner, your recent foray into the culinary world compels me to address it now. This pertains to the corrective measures for both you and Gabriel, as well as the specific nature of tonight''s dinner.¡± Gabriel and I instinctively tensed, a shared unease passing between us. The memory of Valeria tampering with our meals for ¡°educational and corrective measures¡± suddenly resurfaced, and I braced myself for the impending disclosure. A sense of foreboding washed over me, as I anticipated that whatever Valeria was about to reveal regarding our meals would be far from pleasant. Valeria, with a calculated grace, produced the small vial again, her fingers elegantly poised around its slender form. ¡°This,¡± she began, holding the vial up to the light, ¡°contains a neurotoxin known as ''NeuroCorpse'' or NC, in short. It¡¯s a compound frequently utilised by our corporate interrogators at Ether Labs, particularly effective in ascertaining truths and ensuring compliance.¡± Her explanation was chillingly detailed, underscoring her complete understanding of the toxin¡¯s capabilities. ¡°NeuroCorpse works by inducing intense pain throughout your entire nervous system. The true beauty of it, however, is that it¡¯s specifically engineered to cause suffering without leaving a single physical mark, making it an invaluable tool for... corrective measures, as one might say.¡± She continued, her voice taking on an almost clinical tone as she described the toxin''s precise effects. ¡°At low dosages, the pain is sharp yet bearable, akin to a severe, debilitating full-body migraine. As the dosage increases, the pain intensifies, potentially reaching levels that can incapacitate or render the subject unconscious. Higher dosages are easily capable of completely shutting down your nervous system, including even those of cybernetically-enhanced Operators that have pain-blockers installed. ¡°At too high a dosage, death is the only outcome. Of course, as mentioned earlier, the pain is entirely internal, leaving no evidence of its application after a short few hours of it having run its course. Even the best corporate laboratories are unable to reliably trace its application.¡± Valeria then delved into more specific applications, outlining various dosages suitable for different body types and pain thresholds. ¡°For example, a dose of just 0.3 millilitres might cause the aforementioned migraine-like discomfort for an average adult male for approximately two hours. Increase the dose to 0.6 millilitres, and you have pain so severe it borders on high-level torture, lasting up to six hours in grown men. For some particularly will-strong Operators, our interrogators have been known to use up to 1.2 millilitres with great effect.¡± As she elaborated on the toxin''s potency, detailing scenarios and reactions with unsettling precision, Gabriel and I exchanged horrified glances. The realisation of what our mother had been willing to do¡ªwhat she had planned for us¡ªwas an unsettling, terrifying revelation. I couldn¡¯t help but be thoroughly thankful for my recent stint with Mr. Shori, the [Cooking] Skill having been a large part of the reason I had managed to catch the strange nature of the food¡¯s taste before I had consumed it. Furthermore, the sheer depth at which Valeria was able to disseminate the information about the NeuroCorpse was frightening in itself. My mind was racing, trying to fit the newfound information into my view of Valeria so far, ¡®Is she a corporate interrogator¡­? But that wouldn¡¯t make much sense regarding her earlier talks about a project, would it? Unless that project is interrogating a ton of people¡­?!¡¯ As Valeria continued, her words sliced through the tension-laden air with an icy precision that left no room for ambiguity. ¡°In light of the recent concerns and disappointments you have caused Oliver and me, I have decided to administer a modest dosage of 0.4 millilitres of NC in your meals today. This, I trust, will serve as an effective corrective measure for my own children. ¡°It is my hope that this experience will impress upon you the gravity of considering the repercussions of your actions before you act. Moreover, it should serve as a vivid reminder of your roles not merely as individuals but as integral members of this family." Her gaze swept over us with an unwavering sternness. ¡°Your actions invariably reflect upon Oliver and me. With the increasing complexities of Oliver¡¯s work and the significant project currently under my purview, we simply cannot afford to continuously oversee your decisions and guide you away from misjudgment." She paused, letting her words resonate in the tense atmosphere of the dining room. ¡°Both of you are of an age where adherence to the standards and expectations of our family should not be an unreasonable demand. It was only a short while ago that such expectations might have seemed lofty, but no longer. Let this be the only time I need to employ such methods of correction and education. For all our sakes, I earnestly hope that today¡¯s lesson resonates deeply and enduringly.¡± The revelations of the evening left me in a state of shock, the magnitude of Valeria¡¯s actions hitting me like a tidal wave. Her admission about the NeuroCorpse in our food was not just startling, but it was also brazenly open. She had used it as a tool for correction, under the guise of guiding Gabriel and me towards an unspoken understanding of her expectations. The thought itself was downright ludicrous. ''This is utterly insane¡­!'' I thought, my mind racing with disbelief and dread. The most alarming aspect, however, was Valeria¡¯s reference to the neurotoxin as a present reality, not a hypothetical one. The implication was terrifyingly clear¡ªshe expected us to consume the meals, despite their blatantly toxic nature. As if in response to my dawning realisation, Valeria¡¯s tone, a blend of emotional pain and her usual icy composure, cut through my thoughts, ¡°Now then, let us proceed with our dinner. I expect you to finish your meals. The effort and expense involved in their preparation should not be taken for granted. I will not tolerate any wastage, am I clear?¡± Her gesture towards the tainted plates was a silent command, pushing Gabriel and I to consume every last bit of the laced meal in front of us¡­ Chapter 30 - Agony The realisation that Oliver wouldn''t intervene against Valeria''s draconian "correction" was a bitter pill to swallow. It had become painfully clear that when it came to parenting, Oliver was decidedly out of his depth. Some might even say that he was utterly incompetent in such matters, as the sheer idea of feeding neurotoxin to your own children should, decidedly, be something that even your run-of-the-mill parent would consider ¡°a bit too far.¡± Yet still, Oliver had held his tongue. Resigned to our fate, Gabriel and I had no choice but to comply with Valeria''s twisted generosity and consume the tainted meal. The foreknowledge of the impending pain, rather than providing comfort, only heightened the dread. It was a cruel irony, being aware of the looming torment yet being powerless to avoid it. At that moment, I pondered the age-old dilemma: Was it better to foresee an unavoidable catastrophe or to stumble into it unawares? Somewhere in my memory, I knew this conundrum had a philosophical label, but it eluded me under the weight of the current predicament. Gazing at the sumptuously prepared meal before me, I hesitantly speared another slice of the luxurious lab-grown meat onto my fork, my eyes locking with Gabriel''s, both of us filled with trepidation. ''I wish there was another way out of this, Gabe,'' I thought solemnly. Despite the dread churning within me, I managed to muster a semblance of assurance, nodding confidently at him. It was an entirely feigned bravado, a facade to bolster his spirits as we braced ourselves to face the consequences of Valeria''s decidedly fucked-up "educational methods." Ultimately, what choice did I have, exactly? Refusing to eat Valeria''s tampered meal would directly defy her commands, likely leading to even harsher punishments or "corrective measures" that I dreaded might be far worse than a temporary onslaught of pain. The most obvious alternative¡ªfleeing the apartment¡ªwould essentially put me back to square one, much like the original Sera; at odds with Valeria and cut off from her considerable resources and influence. It would also do nothing for Gabriel either and I would simply be leaving him behind to suffer alone. That was not something that I could even begin to fathom, considering my significant debts I already owed him. Gaining an upper hand in the relationship between Valeria and me was a future possibility, that would allow me more negotiation power, but as of now, I lacked the leverage to tip the scales in my favour. Hence, complying with Valeria¡¯s demands seemed like the most pragmatic choice. Moreover, despite Valeria''s authoritarian rule, the safety and advantages of residing in a restricted floor within a megabuilding were too significant to disregard lightly. Residing under Valeria''s wing meant I wouldn''t have to fret about safeguarding my own home or getting entangled in the murky waters of gang politics and wars. As twisted as the corpo lifestyle and mindset could be¡ªwith Valeria as a living testament to some of its extreme natures¡ªthe corporations did pour substantial resources into ensuring that their middle-management level employees, like my dear, esteemed mother seemed to be, were able to dedicate their energies solely to work and, by extension, to boosting corporate profits. Lastly, I also had to acknowledge that while the prospect of ingesting NeuroCorpse was far from appealing, it might inadvertently lead to unlocking a new Skill or ability. Neon Dragons might not have featured anything like a [Poison Resistance] Skill in the original game, but this world had already shown deviations from the game''s script, evidenced by the unexpected appearance of the [Maid] Skill and similar. Perhaps enduring this ordeal would inadvertently open up new paths of resilience or adaptation I hadn''t considered before as well. Was that just me trying to rationalise the choice of knowingly ingesting a neurotoxin? Absolutely. But hey, whatever keeps you going, huh? As I cautiously placed the meat into my mouth, a sudden realisation dawned on me: The [Serenity] Perk I had acquired from the [Meditation] Skill Tree could potentially shield me from enduring the full brunt of the neurotoxin''s effects. A mere minute of meditation, theoretically, could cleanse my system of the toxin. Yet, this revelation brought its own set of complications. Firstly, I pondered whether I could effectively meditate while engulfed in agonising pain. My past experiences with meditation had always been in serene environments, mainly as a tool for relaxation or an alternative to a brief nap, but never under the throes of intense distress. Secondly, and perhaps more critically, was the issue of perception. It would certainly raise suspicion, if not outright alarm, if I did not exhibit the severe pain expected from the toxin''s ingestion. So, I was faced with a dilemma: Either convincingly feign excruciating pain in sync with Gabriel, hoping our doses were indeed comparable, or risk revealing my abnormal resistance to neurotoxins. The latter was a secret I was keen on safeguarding, considering its potential as a lifesaving ace up my sleeve in future unforeseen circumstances. As I grudgingly accepted my predicament, I continued consuming the food, laced with the impending threat of the neurotoxin. ''There''s no simple escape from this situation,'' I contemplated, feeling the texture and flavour of the exquisite meal, even as a sense of impending dread loomed over me. The taste of the meal was undeniably superb, surpassing anything I had encountered in this world and even in my past life. However, the constant undercurrent of anxiety, knowing the inevitable pain that each bite was drawing me closer to, significantly marred my ability to savour the experience. The most unsettling aspect, however, was the unknown delay in the toxin''s activation. Despite having ingested several mouthfuls of the algae, lab-grown meat, and eggs, the anticipated effects of the NeuroCorpse had yet to manifest. The suspense was almost as torturous as the expected pain. ''I wish it would just start already, so I could gauge the extent of the pain,'' I internally debated. Valeria had described it as excruciating for an average adult male, but that description was frustratingly vague. Were we talking about the level of discomfort comparable to severe menstrual cramps, which could be utterly debilitating, as I recalled from my previous life? Or was it more akin to the agony of having an organ violently extracted?
As the meal progressed, my body abruptly began to feel an intense heat, signalling the onset of the NeuroCorpse''s effects. ''This is it,'' I thought with a sense of resignation, hastily consuming the remaining portion of my meal. Valeria''s instructions had been very explicit about leaving no leftovers, and I doubted my ability to continue eating once the full brunt of the pain hit. I crammed the last bits into my mouth, chewing and swallowing with urgency as a peculiar, pervasive ache began to spread through me. It was unlike any pain I had experienced before, defying easy description. Pain, in my understanding, was usually localised: The throbbing of a headache, the sharpness of a cramp, the sting of a burn. These were direct, identifiable sources of discomfort that signalled specific issues needing attention. Even the widespread pain from a fall, like tumbling off a bike and scraping across the pavement, was ultimately localised to certain injured areas, such as ¡°my entire right side¡± or similar. But the feeling now creeping through me was something else entirely¡ªa full-body experience of pain, an unnerving, downright alien sensation. It was as if my brain, overwhelmed by the barrage of distress signals, was scrambling to process them, leading to a fluctuating pattern of pain across various parts of my body. In terms of the [Programming] knowledge I had recently acquired: It felt like my body''s pain signals were being managed in a first-in, first-out queue, simultaneously grouped into larger packages for more efficient processing by my overloaded brain. As soon as I gulped down the final bite and the pain began to fully manifest, Valeria''s voice sliced through the quiet atmosphere of the dinner, her words as regal and detached as ever. "You are both dismissed for the evening. Do ensure you change out of your formal attire before retiring to your rooms, children." Her tone, though outwardly gracious, carried an unmistakable subtext that was hard to miss: You can go suffer in your room now, but don¡¯t mess up the expensive clothes as you do so. Gabriel and I immediately excused ourselves from the dinner table, staggering back to our room as the pain escalated from uncomfortable to intolerable. In a frenzy, I peeled off my evening dress, more concerned about relief than the garment''s condition, and collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. Muffled grunts filtered through the metal sheet dividing our shared room, signalling Gabriel''s struggle to silently bear the increasing agony. ¡®This is utterly fucking insane. What the fuck is wrong with that fucking bitch?!¡¯ My thoughts raged, channelling my growing pain and anger into a mental tirade of curses. The pain continued to surge in waves, each one more intense and quicker than the last, overwhelming my senses, with no sign of abiding any time soon.
For untold hours that felt like an eternity, I writhed in excruciating pain, each wave threatening to push me into the sweet release of unconsciousness, but never quite reaching that merciful threshold. The neurotoxin, I had realised, was a masterpiece of cruelty at this dosage, meticulously engineered to inflict maximum agony while ensuring my brain remained alert to every tormenting pulse of pain. The body''s innate self-regulation, usually a blessing that made sure one would not fall unconscious due to simple overstimulation, now felt like a curse, as it kept me agonisingly conscious through the ordeal. The full-body pain induced by the NeuroCorpse was unlike anything I had ever experienced or could have anticipated. With most pain, there was a possibility of acclimatising, or at least preparing for its onslaught, but this¡­ this was different. The pain signals swarmed my brain in chaotic waves, each new surge erasing any chance of adapting to the torment. One moment, the entire left side of my body would be engulfed in pain, then it would shift to my head, and back to the left again. Another wave would strike my right side, then my stomach, and cascade down to my feet and legs. There was no pattern, no predictability¡ªjust relentless, random agony. The rapidity with which one wave of pain was superseded by another, while the previous ache still lingered, only to be reinvigorated by fresh signals from the same area, was maddening. The ceaseless, disordered nature of the pain made it impossible to brace myself for what was coming next. Each new wave felt like a fresh assault, with the previous pain acting as a cruel foundation for the next. Lying in agony, my muffled screams into the pillow became the sole outward-facing tell of the pain, long after my voice had given way. My mind, continuously fraying at the edges, however, found a twisted comfort in the knowledge that I wasn''t enduring this hell alone. Through the thin barrier that separated us, Gabriel''s own stifled cries had echoed mine, a chorus of suffering that had gradually dwindled as his voice, too, had broken under the strain. Now, all that filled the room was the sound of our desperate, ragged breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as we each writhed in our separate hells, clinging to the last shreds of our composure. In those harrowing hours, as we lay in our own corners of agony, the shared ordeal somehow made the insurmountable pain slightly more bearable for me, a grim solidarity in the face of our mother''s cruel lesson. ¡®This is unbearable¡­ I can¡¯t take this anymore¡­!¡¯ The mantra repeated in my head, echoing my torment. As Gabriel''s voice began to crack and falter an unknowable time later, lost to exhaustion and pain, my own agony pushed me to the brink of delirium. Yet, amidst this maelstrom of suffering, a single ray of hope persisted, a lifeline I clung to with desperate tenacity: The [Serenity] Perk. And with Gabriel''s cries gradually subsiding, giving way to eerie silence, only broken by his thrashing around and my own cries of agony, I knew it was time to act¡ªto end this relentless pain once and for all. If anyone inquired, I could simply feign losing my voice due to the prior, lengthy screaming. I had initially envisioned the [Serenity] Perk as a distant, future aid, now emerged as my immediate salvation. The irony of its premature necessity wasn''t lost on me. Yet, this beacon of relief came with its own challenge: I needed to activate my [Meditation] Skill to harness the power of [Serenity], a daunting task amidst this maelstrom of pain. With every agonising pulse of pain that shattered my focus, like unyielding waves crashing against a brittle coast, I fought to steady my thoughts. My objective was clear¡ªto find an oasis of calm within this storm, to tap into the deep well of tranquillity I had cultivated over the lengthy days of not-sleeping, as I had tested my body¡¯s limits, and beckon forth the relief promised by [Serenity]. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. In my increasingly desperate bids to attain a meditative state, I fought against the relentless tide of pain that ravaged my body. Each attempt to slip into meditation was like trying to grasp a flickering flame amidst a tempest¡ªthe moment my mind neared the tranquil shores of [Meditation], another wave of torment would crash over me, scattering my focus into a thousand shards of agony. I tried repeatedly, each effort more futile than the last. The intensity of the pain was beyond comprehension, a relentless force that refused to yield even for a moment. The very essence of the NeuroCorpse seemed to mock my efforts, its designed purpose to ensure a constant state of unbearable suffering. The cruel reality of my situation began to dawn on me, as the glimmer of hope that had been the Perk¡¯s existence started to wane. The one minute of focused meditation required for [Serenity] to activate and cleanse the toxin from my system proved to be an insurmountable barrier¡ªI had miscalculated, badly. The pain was a merciless jailer, keeping my mind shackled in a prison of torment, denying me the fleeting moment of respite I so thoroughly hoped for¡ªso thoroughly needed. During the continued, relentless assault, my grasp on reality began to slip as the last dredges of my mental strength had gone into attempting to conjure my own salvation, dragging me into a nightmarish limbo where hallucinations, and panic attacks blurred with consciousness. Each fleeting moment of this ¡°consciousness¡±, if one could even call it that, was abruptly and cruelly shattered by another surge of excruciating pain, a relentless cycle that seemed to stretch into eternity. As time agonisingly dragged on, the pain morphed into an omnipresent entity, no longer just an experience but a defining part of my existence. The excruciating torment ceased to be an external infliction; it became an intrinsic part of who I was, an unyielding, omnipresent spectre that dominated every fragment of my consciousness. Pain was not something I felt anymore; it was simply what I had become. The visions and voices that had started appearing in my head some time ago had further emphasised this truth, for they were merely ways for my brain to attempt to cope with this deluge of information barraging it. But the pain was not one of those. The pain was simply part of me. It would never leave me, for it was me. A delirious state of mind was merely a temporary problem, something even modern medicine from my old world could fix. Visions and voices were similarly transient, merely temporary problems that required a good night¡¯s sleep to fix, I knew. But the pain? The pain was eternal. I thoroughly knew this, in my heart of hearts. For the pain was always there, making sure that I did not drift off into sleep, not drift off into visions or voices. It was my friend, for it made sure that I did not lose myself¡­
Time blurred into an indistinct haze, until gradually, I began to claw my way back to a semblance of coherent thought. My body was wracked with an almost unimaginable soreness, akin to having endured an endless marathon. Every cell inside of me felt as though it had been torn asunder and haphazardly stitched back together. My whole body felt alien, as there was no longer any excruciating pain, only a numb, sore feeling of past agony remaining. A bizarre thought wormed its way into my exhausted mind, an irrational longing for the pain that had become so familiar. ''Valeria should give me more of that toxin,'' I caught myself thinking, almost longing for the cruel embrace of agony. ¡®I really should ask Valeria to give me more¡­¡¯ I craved my old friend with every fibre of my being. In this altered state, another perplexing thought spiralled through my mind, a chilling echo of the torment I had endured. ''If the pain fully disappears, who will anchor me to myself?'' The thought was absurd, yet it clung to me with the tenacity of a shadow. In the depths of my delirium, I grappled with a misplaced conviction that I needed the toxin, that the pain it induced was a necessity. All to guard against the loss of self. There was a twisted logic to it born from the toxin''s cruel embrace, that I couldn¡¯t deny¡ªa belief that without the searing agony, I would drift into oblivion, abandoned and utterly alone once again. I attempted to rise from my bed, a chaotic mess stained with the remnants of my ordeal¡ªsweat, blood, drool and tears mingling to tell the tale of what I had endured. My arms and legs bore the marks of self-inflicted violence, and the taste of iron lingered in my mouth, a physical reminder to my vocal cords'' violent protests. But none of these things held my focus for even a moment. My mind was singularly fixated on one need: More pain. It was a twisted, irrational desire, but it consumed me. I needed to seek out Valeria, to request¡ªno, beg¡ªfor another dose of that excruciating toxin. I needed it to stay sane, after all.
Lying dishevelled on the grimy floor, an arm''s length from my bed, I tried to piece together the events leading up to this moment. ''Must have toppled over at some stage,'' I thought, a grim realisation as every fibre of my being screamed in protest. The all-consuming agony that had hijacked my consciousness was now a distant echo, the neurotoxin''s vicious grip seemingly loosening. Yet, amidst the haze of pain and confusion, a bizarre urge had surfaced¡ªa disjointed, almost alien desire to seek out more of Valeria''s toxic concoction. ''Why the fuck would I crave more of that nightmare?'' I berated myself, struggling to make sense of the ludicrous thought. Attempting to shift into a less painful position was futile; every movement was a reminder of the ordeal my body had just endured. Pain, it seemed, had redefined its very meaning through this experience. Gradually, my mind clawed back its ability to form coherent thoughts. A resolute promise emerged from the fog of my battered psyche: ''Never again. I will do anything in my power to never have Valeria resort to such a measure, ever again.'' The sheer extremity of what I had just experienced was beyond any realm of sanity. It wasn''t just correction; it was torture, the kind that defied every notion of human rights, ethical conduct, and basic decency I knew from my past life. ''Valeria is not just dangerous; she''s a complete fucking lunatic, a threat on a level I hadn''t even thought possible.'' In the aftermath of that harrowing ordeal, a resolute shift in my priorities became evident. My initial plans of exacting revenge on the dirty low-lifes that had dared to touch my brother, had to be put on hold. The debt Mr. Stirling had called in, courtesy of my own misjudgment, rocketed to the top of my immediate concerns. I couldn''t afford to gamble on whether Valeria had set a hidden deadline for this obligation or not. Resolutely, I placed this new task at the absolute top of my list. "Gabr..." was the only sound I could muster, my voice barely a whisper as I called out for Gabriel. My concern for him was paramount; after all, he was just a teenager, his body and mind far from the resilience and maturity mine had been forced to adapt to. My spirit might have been shackled to a 15-year-old''s body, but my experiences, both painful and profound, belonged to a mind weathered by time and the trials of my past life. But Gabriel? His 16-year-old self hadn''t crossed the threshold of mental and emotional maturity to withstand such trauma. The fear that this ordeal might have inflicted lasting damage on his young psyche was real. Silence hung heavily from his side of the room. I clung to the hope that he had succumbed to unconsciousness, a far better fate than being ensnared by that same perverse desire to seek more of Valeria''s toxin. The absence of any sound suggested he might have passed out, but a nagging fear yet gnawed at me¡ªwhat if he had left the room, driven by the toxin''s insidious influence, in search of more? The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine. Summoning every ounce of determination, I silently urged myself to rise. ''You need to check on Gabriel,'' my thoughts echoed, pushing against the overwhelming exhaustion. The irony wasn''t lost on me¡ªdespite my Body Attribute having improved to 3 by now, I was back to grappling with the simplest of movements, eerily reminiscent of those early days after emerging from the coma with a Body at -1. The familiar creaky, old wheelchair nearby seemed like a lifeline, a necessary crutch in my current state. ''Is this wheelchair destined to be an eternal part of my life or something?'' I pondered, feeling an odd sense of dependency on it. Time became an abstract concept as I laboriously coordinated every strained muscle and nerve to reach the wheelchair. My eyes, having rolled back in sheer fatigue and blurred by incessant tears, offered no help. In a moment of clarity amid the chaos, I had managed to wedge one of my infinite sock balls between my teeth, unknowingly clamping down on it with all the strength I could muster in my jaw as I struggled to move. Every movement was a battle, with pain and numbness coursing through me, but the urgency to ensure Gabriel''s well-being fueled my persistence, driving me towards the wheelchair, inch by torturous inch. After what seemed like countless hours, I finally hoisted myself into the familiar embrace of the old wheelchair. Pausing for a moment, I drew deep, laboured breaths, gathering what little energy and focus remained. My consciousness teetered on the edge, drained from the ordeal and the effort of moving. With each turn of the creaky wheels, I slowly navigated towards Gabriel''s side of the room, repeating a silent prayer under my breath, ''Please be asleep, please be asleep.'' The mantra echoed in my mind, a hopeful rhythm against the backdrop of my exhaustion. As I manoeuvred past the dividing sheet, my heart pounded with apprehension. But relief washed over me at the sight before me. Gabriel lay there, seemingly having succumbed to sleep, his ordeal ending earlier than mine or perhaps he had just weathered the storm more resiliently. Unlike my bed, his lacked the chaotic evidence of struggle¡ªno stains of blood or foamy drool. Exhaustion claimed me entirely at the sight of my brother, relatively unscathed. My body and mind could endure no more, and as relief mingled with fatigue, darkness enveloped my consciousness, pulling me back into the void of unconsciousness.
I stirred awake some time later, finding myself in an awkward position, precariously perched and half-entangled in the wheelchair''s armrest. A groan escaped my lips as I clumsily repositioned myself into a more stable seating. ''I need a fucking break,'' I thought wearily, guiding the wheelchair back to my side of the room. My bed was a dishevelled mess, a stark reminder of the night''s agony. The sight of it made me shudder¡ªit was not an inviting place to return to. Too drained to even consider changing the sheets, I opted for the simplest solution instead. I grabbed my blanket, deciding to sleep right in the wheelchair. It wasn''t ideal, and I knew my back would protest fiercely in the morning. But in this world, I had a bona-fide cheat-code up my sleeve: the Rest Function. It would be my saving grace against the inevitable aches and pains. For now, all I craved was the escape of sleep, however uncomfortable the position might be. I pulled up the Rest Function, punched in a solid 8 hours and hit confirm in one smooth motion.
My eyes fluttered open immediately, the familiar disorientation that accompanied the use of the Rest Function momentarily clouding my senses. As the confusion receded, I was greeted by the System''s chime, confirming a successful and restorative sleep.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
A contented sigh escaped my lips. Miraculously, the lingering pains and fatigue that had plagued me just moments ago had vanished completely, as if they were never there. ''The Rest Function is ridiculously overpowered, and I''m all here for it,'' I thought, a hint of a smirk playing on my lips. With a gentle stretch, I began to disentangle myself from the confines of the wheelchair and the blanket I had haphazardly thrown over myself. The relief of being pain-free was downright euphoric. ¡®First on the agenda, I need to check on Gabriel.¡¯ Quietly and stealthily, not wanting to accidentally wake him from any potential rest, I navigated to his side of the room. Peeking around the divider, I saw him, still deep in slumber. Satisfied he was okay, I retreated back to my own space. ¡®Good, Gabriel''s still knocked out¡­ What fucking time is it anyway¡­?¡¯ I wondered, feeling like an eternity had passed in that room. Accessing my cerebral interface, I summoned the time display. To my astonishment, it had only been eleven hours since the dinner began. ¡®Only eleven fucking hours? It felt like I was struggling for at least a day with that NeuroCorpse toxin... That stuff is seriously insane.¡¯ My thoughts shifted towards the day ahead. ¡®I should wake Gabriel a bit earlier today, see how he¡¯s holding up. He might not have a Rest Function, but he''d surely be upset to miss work.¡¯ I pondered, considering our precarious situation. ¡®Plus, Valeria would be less than thrilled if he skipped work due to this. That¡¯s definitely something we have to avoid at all costs.¡¯ Finally, it was time to check up on all the System Notifications that I had ignored throughout the entire family dinner. I couldn¡¯t spare even a second of time to check them, lest my concentration on Valeria¡¯s antics wavered. Pulling them all up in their condensed form, I started reading through them one by one.
[System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 700xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. ([Rare] First time taste bonus.) [System]: [Deception] Skill unlocked. [System]: 300xp gained for [Deception] Skill. [System]: [Poison] Skill unlocked. [System]: 500xp gained for [Poison] Skill. ([Rare] First time exposure bonus.) [System]: 200xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
The corners of my mouth twitched upwards, despite the recent ordeal, forming a grin I couldn''t suppress. ''For how much of a fucking bitch Valeria is, I really have to hand it to her: Whenever she¡¯s around, it¡¯s experience galore. Almost makes me hope for another family dinner soon¡­ Almost,'' I thought, my mind resorting to dark humour to cope with the trauma¡ªa coping mechanism that seemed to have seamlessly transitioned into my new life. As I methodically stripped the bed of its soiled linens and replaced them with fresh ones, my mind was already laying out the day ahead. ''Stick to the routine first. Then, post-Mr. Shori¡¯s shift, it''s straight to dealing with Mr. Stirling. That debt needs to be off my back, pronto.'' Despite the daunting tasks ahead, a small part of me relished the thought of hitting those sweet XP milestones soon. Not today, perhaps, but every day brought me closer to becoming a stronger, more adept version of myself. And that was a journey I was eager to continue. Experience gains were highly addictive, after all¡­ Chapter 31 - Gryplik By the time I finished wrestling with my bedding, making it somewhat presentable again, Gabriel¡¯s unmistakable grunts pierced the silence from the other side of our shared room. ¡°Gabe, you up?¡± I called out, inching towards the metal sheet that divided our personal spaces. ¡°Can I swing by? How''s it going on your end?¡± There was a brief pause, filled with a sense of heavy, silent endurance, before his voice, laced with a wry undertone, floated back. ¡°Pretty sure I''m still among the living¡ªhurts too much to be otherwise. So, yeah, that''s a plus, I guess. Come over...¡± Stepping past the metal sheet, I found Gabriel curled up in a position that screamed ''every inch of me hurts but there¡¯s no escape''. A wave of empathy washed over me, and a wry smile tugged at my lips. ¡®Oh, I know that pose all too well,¡¯ I mused, recalling the agony of my past life¡¯s menstrual cramps, which now seemed almost trivial in comparison. That NeuroCorpse stuff was diabolically efficient. ¡°Need anything?¡± I ventured cautiously, feeling somewhat helpless but eager to offer whatever support I could to my brother in his time of need. After a moment, filled with the sound of strained breathing, Gabriel managed to reply, his voice tinged with a weary humour, "Some painkillers would be great. Feels like a stampede of Borg Psychos ran over me. Didn''t expect mom to go all out like this..." His words trailed off as a realisation seemed to strike him, and he propped himself up with a groan and a wince, fixing his gaze on me. "Hold up! Why do you look alright? Did she only spike my dinner?!" I had anticipated this line of questioning and was ready with my response. I gave a nonchalant shrug and said, "Oh no, mine was laced too. I just passed out from the pain at some point. Can''t tell you how long I was out, but I woke up still hurting. I guess I''m sort of used to dealing with intense full-body pain... for, you know, other reasons." I let my voice trail off, purposefully looking away to feign embarrassment. Men, in my experience, tended to steer clear of any discussion about women¡¯s periods, especially 16-year old boys. It was the perfect deflection, unless Valeria herself decided to interrogate me¡ªthat would be a whole different game. I saw realisation hit Gabriel like a ton of bricks; his mouth formed an ''O'' as understanding dawned on him. He gingerly made his way to the edge of his bed, muttering, "Damn... that''s what you go through all the time? I had no idea... That''s¡­ rough." With that, the topic seemed firmly closed, much to my relief. ¡®Nailed it,¡¯ I congratulated myself silently, handing over a leftover painkiller from Dr. Maltrick¡¯s post-surgery stash to Gabriel. Fortunately, his recent ordeal meant we still had some of these lifesavers left over from his treatment. He gulped down the pill in a hurry, not even waiting for me to fetch him a glass of water. Recalling the unbearable pain that had wracked my body upon waking, I couldn''t find it in me to blame him for his eagerness. "I''m gonna head out to the living room, kickstart my day. You good here for now?" I asked Gabriel, ensuring he was okay with me leaving. It wasn''t just about letting him rest; I had my own packed schedule to tend to. Plus, I didn''t want him to miss work because of lingering too long with me, given how Valeria would react to such a slip-up. Gabriel let out a deep, pain-laden sigh and gave a slow nod. He began to extricate himself from his bed, each movement punctuated with grimaces and soft groans. ''Hang in there, Gabe. This too shall pass... I hope. We¡¯ll have to have a closer heart-to-heart about Valeria in the near future as well. I can¡¯t imagine this is her usual behaviour, considering how out of it Gabe seemed to be about the whole situation,'' I thought, silently offering my gratitude to the cybernetic powers-that-be for blessing me with the Rest Function. Watching Gabriel endure the aftermath of the toxin, I was vividly reminded of how lucky I was. Trudging through an entire day with that kind of pain was decidedly not on my wishlist. I made my way into the living room and dove into my regular morning workout routine. After a while, Gabriel managed to emerge from our shared room, each step marked by a wince and a grunt, clear evidence of the lingering pain. He managed a brief, albeit strained, "Catch you later, sis," before exiting the apartment. Left in solitude, I immersed myself in the rhythm of my workout, the only company being the familiar sound of my own exertion¡­
Having completed my exhaustive morning routine, which included a vigorous 45-minute stealth-jog around the floor, I returned to the apartment. I still had not found a good way to incorporate [Acrobatics] into my training, so I had ended up having to jump around like a lunatic once again, towards the end of my jog. I was very much hoping that there had been no cameras around to record me doing so. Now however, I was eagerly anticipating the review of my morning progress. There''s a unique thrill in not peeking at the experience gains during a workout, saving them up for a big reveal later. It grants a sort of dopamine surge that''s hard to match. Yet, I couldn''t help but feel a slight dip in motivation, missing the immediate gratification of watching my experience bar inch up in real-time. ''Perhaps there''s a workaround,'' I mused, contemplating a potential request to the System. Could I ask for a periodic summary of my gains, even if I checked the notifications as they came in? The idea of forfeiting those little bursts of excitement, those mini-rewards that kept me going, seemed daunting. With this thought in mind for future workouts, I prompted the System to display the consolidated list of notifications from today¡¯s morning''s efforts.
[System]: 1200xp (+600xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 500xp. [System]: 600xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
As I revelled in the satisfying surge of dopamine from witnessing my experience bars dramatically increase, I took a brief pause to strategize for the day ahead. The first item on my agenda was clear: My regular stint at Mr. Shori''s. But after that, a shopping spree seemed in order. Armed with both Valeria''s restricted shard and my personal credits that I had obtained from helping out at Mr. Shori¡¯s and from the task I had finished for him, I had a decent budget to work with, and there were essentials I needed to procure in anticipation of Mr. Stirling''s likely demands. ''I definitely need some urban gear,'' I mused internally, mentally ticking off items. ''A reliable knife, sturdy clothing that can take a beating... and definitely a haircut, it¡¯s long overdue.'' Having been in this cyberpunk world for a considerable duration, I still found myself sporting Sera''s original, untamed brown hair. It was an oversight that felt almost sacrilegious in a world like Neon Dragons, where vibrant and unconventional hairdos were the norm. After all, which self-respecting teenager in this universe would be caught wandering about with their natural hair colour and style untouched? But, beyond aesthetic considerations, a more pressing matter demanded my attention: The strategic allocation of my resources. I had to carefully weigh how to distribute expenses between my own credits and the restricted shard Valeria had given me. The shard was not just a freely given financial resource, after all. I pondered the delicate balance of spending my personal credits versus using the restricted shard. ''What purchases would Valeria see as justified? It''s a test, no doubt about it. But I can''t just squander it on trivial things like fancy dinner outfits¡ªeven if she would likely agree with me purchasing them, based on how much she seems to love these strange family dinners... I need some practical items, yet they also have to meet her corporate standards. If I don¡¯t, she¡¯ll likely not allow me to use the creds on the shard in the first place, or allow me to use them, but fail me on her test,'' I thought, weighing my options. The challenge was to make prudent choices that would pass Valeria¡¯s scrutiny while also serving my immediate needs simultaneously. Showering off the sweat from my vigorous morning workout, my mind was abuzz with plans and calculations. "Maybe investing in a deck would make sense," I mused aloud, the sound of water echoing my thoughts. ¡°Corpos always need skilled runners, and Valeria might already be aware of the SPG-01 Shard Gabriel bought. It''s very likely she''s keeping tabs on us... I could even angle it as a move to assist with Oliver''s work troubles. That should earn me some brownie points as well," I reasoned, considering how to best leverage my current situation. Finishing up, I slipped into my now-standard outfit for Mr. Shori''s¡ªa wardrobe choice that had organically become my ''work uniform.'' I mentally checked off my shopping list: ¡°Priority one, a reliable knife. Then, at least a couple of new outfits and, crucially, a haircut. This hair situation is downright unacceptable. I¡¯m surprised Valeria hasn¡¯t said anything about it yet¡­.¡± As I got dressed, I resolved to base my purchasing decisions on my financial reality, balancing between my credits and Valeria''s restricted shard. ''Shop for necessities first, then see what''s left for anything else,'' I concluded, planning my shopping excursion with a mix of practicality and a bit of newfound cunning in mind. With my shopping plans set roughly in stone for later that day, I made my way to the elevators and down to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall for my daily shift¡­
Exiting the elevator to make my way to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall on the 16th floor presented the usual spectacle. This wasn''t unique to the 16th floor; it was more a characteristic of the megabuilding''s heavy reliance on elevators. Just a few strides from the elevator, past a buffer zone maintained with a semblance of respect, I would invariably encounter a crowd of beggars, the homeless, and others who seemed unfit for the grind of daily jobs. The path to Mr. Shori¡¯s, located in the bustling trade district of the floor, always had me weaving through these unfortunate souls. The area teemed with activity, thanks to the constant flow of people between the elevators and the shops. The beggars weren''t a threat, but their presence was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of life in the megabuilding. Today, however, as I made my way through the usual throng, something different caught my attention, adding something new to the already disconcerting daily experience. The desperate pleas of a young girl, struggling against the iron grip of a grown man, shattered the monotony of my walk to Mr. Shori''s stall, about ten metres away. My initial instinct was to keep walking, to blend into the background like I had on previous journeys, but the girl''s frantic cries yanked me from my thoughts. "Let! Me! Go! Somebody! Help! Please!" she screamed. Around us, hundreds of people were within earshot, yet not a single head turned towards the unfolding drama. The girl, dressed in ragged, barely-there clothing that spoke of hardship, seemed to blend into the background of the usual beggars and ¡°homeless¡± folk that populated the area. The man was relentlessly dragging her deeper into what was once a hallway but had now, through neglect and disuse, become little more than a dirty, dark alleyway. Despite her valiant efforts to resist and attract help, she was rendered invisible in the busy throng of passersby. Frozen in place amidst the river of people, the urgent need to intervene crystallised in my thoughts. ''I can''t just stand by,'' I resolved, abruptly halting in the middle of the crowded thoroughfare. This sudden stop, an island in the stream of busy passersby, earned me a chorus of curses and irritated shoves. But their annoyance was background noise, drowned out by the urgency of the girl''s plight. My mind raced as I grappled with the situation unfolding before me. ''How can I even help?'' I pondered, feeling the weight of my own limitations. Martial arts expertise was not in my skill set¡ªnot yet, at least¡ªand without any weapon at hand, having given the combat knife back to Gabriel, I was at a severe disadvantage. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Even if I had a weapon, what was I going to do? Stab the guy? The risk of aggravating the man and putting both the girl and myself in greater danger was way too high. My Body Attribute, though improved to a 3, was hardly a match for an adult male, especially one fueled by desperation or malicious intent. ''Is there another way to handle this? There must be something I can do¡­!'' I thought frantically. Seeking help seemed futile; there was no obvious authority like megabuilding police to turn to, and the area lacked any sort of gang presence that might have offered a different kind of intervention. The urgency of the girl''s cries underscored the need for immediate action, yet I stood there, momentarily paralyzed by indecision and a lack of viable options. As the girl''s cries became fainter and the pair began to vanish behind mounds of refuse, the brutal reality hit me: I wasn''t a hero. The girl and her captor disappeared from my view in the next moment, fully swallowed up by the shadows and debris in the alleyway. The broken ceiling lights, long neglected, offered no illumination, no respite, shrouding their retreat in complete and utter darkness. In that moment, my mind reflexively shifted, compartmentalising the incident immediately. The pressing urge to intervene, which had so consumed me moments ago, began to ebb, transforming into a lingering ''should have'' rather than an immediate ''must do.'' I had neither the prowess nor the resources to play the saviour in every dire situation I encountered. This realisation was sobering, and it brought a sense of helplessness that weighed heavily on me. I stood there, grappling with my own inability to act, the noise of the thoroughfare returning to the forefront as the echoes of the girl''s pleas faded into the background. A heavy realisation dawned on me. In this world I was limited by my own capabilities and circumstances even more so than in my old life. Where in my past life, I had the security and knowledge that, if anything were to happen, the police were only one call and a couple of minutes away¡ªnotwithstanding their overall effectiveness. However, in Neo Avalis, the situation was strikingly different. Yes, there existed a form of police force, but their efficacy and response time were nothing to write home about. More critically, within the confines of the megabuildings, which were corporate territories, they had virtually no authority. Unless an external investigation necessitated their presence inside these colossal structures, they remained outsiders. For someone like me, who lived inside the megabuilding, this technicality offered no real hope of intervention in urgent matters. If I found myself in a situation that demanded immediate action, I could only really rely on myself and the people I knew I could trust. As I continued my walk to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of helplessness and guilt. "I''m so sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. The reality that I had stood by during the girl''s ordeal, not intervening when she desperately needed help, pressed heavily on my conscience. Despite understanding logically why I had chosen inaction, a persistent guilt gnawed at me, as heavy as an unseen burden. I''ve never been one to subscribe to notions of fate or karma, but the idea of debts, both tangible and intangible, resonated with me. By failing to assist that girl, I had, in a way, accumulated a societal debt. This ¡°society¡± in Delta, or Neo Avalis as a whole, might have been minuscule, but it existed nonetheless. I had, after all, been on the receiving end of Mr. Shori''s generosity and kindness, yet when an opportunity arose to contribute back to the society he was a part of, I had chosen to look away. Aware that this omission might come back to haunt me, I decided to do the only thing that felt right in that moment: Attempt to balance the scales, even if only slightly. Approaching a familiar beggar I had noticed over the past few days, I quickly executed a sizable credit transfer to him. His sole functioning eye briefly glowed yellow as the transaction hit, then widened in apparent disbelief as he processed the amount.
[You have transferred {c}111 to (Unknown) account with the note: ¡°Evening the scales.¡±]
I quickened my pace, moving away briskly before the beggar could fully articulate his gratitude. The sum I had transferred, 111 credits, was arbitrary but significant. It was an amount I felt was substantial enough to weigh against the potential devastation or end of a young life. In the context of Mr. Shori''s stall, where a meal cost around 3 to 6 credits for the highest quality dish, 111 credits represented a small fortune. The decision to part with such an amount was not easy; it felt like a financial wound, but deep down, I knew it was the correct choice. As I heard the beginnings of the beggar''s thanks, I didn''t stop or turn back. Instead, I simply called out over my shoulder, "Pay it forward." I hoped this act, this gesture of goodwill, would ripple outwards, serving as a counterbalance to my earlier inaction. Maybe, in some small way, it could mitigate the debt I felt I owed to the society that had been calling for help. The idea of this act of kindness multiplying and spreading through society, however unlikely that actually was in reality, offered me a faint sense of solace as I continued toward Mr. Shori''s stall.
The remainder of my morning unfolded without any further hitches. At Mr. Shori''s stall, I immersed myself in the usual tasks, racking up experience in various Skills and Attributes, a routine that had become almost second nature to me. As I wrapped up my shift, ready to embark on my much-anticipated shopping spree, a sudden realisation hit me like a bolt from the blue: ''I actually have no fucking clue where to find quality stores around here...'' The megabuilding was a labyrinth of shops and stalls, similar to those I had briefly explored during my less-than-stellar attempt at stealth prior to my assignment on the 21st floor for Mr. Shori, or even the ones located on that very floor. However, none of these establishments seemed to offer what I was looking for. Their wares reminded me of the trinkets sold by street vendors at mediaeval festivals of my old world: Charming and intriguing at first glance but disappointingly short-lived in terms of durability. Armed with a substantial amount of credits¡ªthanks to both Mr. Shori¡¯s generous payment and the restricted shard from Valeria¡ªI was in a position to invest in higher quality, more durable items. Moreover, with the knowledge that Valeria would be informed of my purchases, the pressure to make wise choices was immense. I couldn''t afford any further missteps in her eyes, especially in light of the harrowing aftermath of yesterday¡¯s family dinner. Just the thought of that night sent an involuntary shudder through me. The solution to my shopping dilemma dawned on me with refreshing simplicity. Mr. Shori, a seasoned stall owner who had operated his business for decades, surrounded himself with high-quality equipment. It was unlikely he would continually replenish his supplies with subpar materials. Seeing an opportunity, I approached him during a brief respite from the bustling crowd of customers, just shortly after my shift had concluded. "Mr. Shori," I began, trying to sound as casual yet earnest as possible, "I''m planning to use some of my earnings to buy a few things, but I''m not quite sure where to find quality items around here. Could you recommend a place? I''m looking for durable clothing, a decent haircut, and maybe a deck. Also a combat knife for personal protection probably wouldn¡¯t go amiss. Know any spots that might have what I need?" Mr. Shori regarded me thoughtfully, as if assessing my intentions or perhaps the seriousness of my request. After a brief pause, he responded, "I think. Maybe. Floor 31, Misha Emporium. Good clothes. Good knives. I buy knife there." He gestured towards a few knives on the counter. Almost simultaneously, his eyes flickered yellow, and my cerebral interface buzzed with the coordinates and details of Misha¡¯s Emporium on the 31st floor. "Thank you so much, Mr. Shori! That''s incredibly helpful!" I exclaimed, my gratitude genuine. With renewed purpose and direction, I quickly strode towards the elevator to get to Floor 31, my mind already cataloguing what I hoped to find at Misha¡¯s Emporium. As I passed by the location of this morning''s distressing scene, my eyes involuntarily scanned the surroundings, seeking any sign of the girl or her abductor. Despite my earlier hesitation, a part of me still clung to the hope that there might be something I could do for her, even after the fact. Regrettably, my search yielded no sight of either the girl or the man. The area had returned to its usual state of bustling anonymity. A twinge of disappointment mixed with a reluctant sense of relief washed over me. ''Maybe it''s better this way,'' I reasoned silently, fighting the internal battle between my conscience and the pragmatic side that was all too aware of the dangers of getting involved. With a heavy sigh, I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the 31st floor, while part of my mind still lingered on the earlier incident¡­
Stepping out of the elevator onto the 31st floor, I was struck by a sudden shift in atmosphere, almost as if I had entered a different world altogether. The first thing that caught my eye was the lighting¡ªit was bright, yet it had a classic warmth to it, lacking the harshness I had grown accustomed to on the other floors. The light bathed the entire area in a welcoming, energising hue that immediately lifted my spirits; distracting me from my earlier, dreary thoughts. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed the security personnel stationed right next to the elevator. They were observing everyone exiting the elevator with trained, discerning eyes. Each guard was clad in light-type body armour, a design I recognized from the countless Let''s Plays of Neon Dragons I had watched in my past life. Their armour was a blend of sleek, interlocking carbon plates, coupled with a thick layer of a material that was more akin to kevlar than anything else, combining into an armour that was tailor-made for in-door mobility without sacrificing any protective capabilities. Each guard was equipped with an array of non-lethal weapons, seemingly chosen based on personal preference and the specific demands of their role. I noticed stun batons dangling from the belts of a few, their sleek design and subtle glow indicating a high-tech approach to an age-old design. Others carried what looked like the Neon Dragons version of handheld tasers, compact yet undoubtedly powerful devices that could incapacitate without causing permanent harm¡ªuntil they did. One guard sported a compact launcher that I earnestly hoped was a net launcher, perfectly designed for immobilising targets harmlessly. The alternative, a grenade launcher like those in Neon Dragons, bore an unsettling resemblance, however. But surely, nobody would be stupid enough to use a grenade launcher indoors though, right¡­? My attention was drawn to the symbol emblazoned on their armour¡ªa distinct emblem that immediately resonated with me. It was the logo of Rockefeller Inc., an angular, stylized ''R'' interlocked with a myriad of hexagonal plates. The logo was displayed prominently on their shoulder pads, a symbol of authority and corporate power. I had seen this logo in the game countless times, representing one of the major corporate entities in Neo Avalis, known for their extensive security, surveillance and subjugation operations. To say it bluntly: They were a mil-corp, focused on all things military. This clear display of Rockefeller Inc.''s presence was both as impressive and intimidating as I had imagined it would be. While it signalled that this floor operated under their watchful eye, suggesting a level of order and safety not found on the lower levels, it also suggested the fact that they had complete, autonomous control over everything that occurred on this floor. As I stepped off the elevator, I reminded myself to remain calm and walk as inconspicuously as possible. The scrutinising presence of the security personnel brought back memories of lining up for airport security checks, where I''d irrationally worry about inadvertently packing something prohibited. You could never be sure whether you didn¡¯t accidentally pack a bomb with your underwear, after all. ''Just walk normally, Sera. You''ve got nothing to hide,'' I told myself, yet still quickened my pace as I walked away from the elevator. To my relief, the guards only gave me a cursory glance before dismissing me as just another shopper. The hallways were immaculate, not a speck of trash in sight, and security patrolled regularly, their presence unobtrusive yet unmistakable. The absence of any sort of beggar, homeless or otherwise unwanted population was likely thanks to them as well. The overall atmosphere on the floor was charged with an air of high-end consumerism, a world away and entirely separate from the grim reality of the lower floors. Around me, shoppers moved with purpose, their expressions a mix of excitement and contentment, each lost in their world of potential purchases. The stores lining the hallways were a visual spectacle, their gleaming displays showcasing the latest trends in fashion, technology, and other luxury goods available on the floor and in the nearby stores. Holographic billboards hovered above, showering passersby with vibrant, blaring advertisements, each one vying for attention with its enticement of the newest and greatest products. The entire scene was a kaleidoscope of commerce and innovation, a far cry from the gritty realities of the lower floors of the megabuilding and it was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined it to be. But my purpose here wasn''t to become immersed in the dazzling atmosphere of Neon Dragons'' commerce. I had a clear mission: To shop for necessities. Consequently, I unerringly made my way toward my destination, determined not to be sidetracked by the surrounding allure. It certainly did not take me an excessive amount of time, over two hours, to reach the Emporium, due to frequent stops, captivated by my surroundings. That would naturally never happen to me. Not this Sera. Nope. In the end, I did reach the Emporium, in a timeframe that, let''s just say, won''t be detailed further. The exterior of it was a stark contrast to the rest of the floor''s flashy displays. It was surprisingly understated, with no extravagant display windows or ambitious signage. The only hint of its presence was a simple neon-lit text sign that read "Misha''s Emporium" in a tasteful, minimalist font. Gathering myself, I stepped towards the door, which obligingly opened with a smooth swish, welcoming me inside. I found myself in a modest reception area, acting as a gateway to the main store hidden behind another set of doors. The room was small and efficiently organised, with a register and a few elegantly placed items that hinted at the quality of goods beyond. But what immediately caught my attention was the presence of another person in the room. As I entered the Emporium, I noticed someone with their back turned to me, hunched over the floor. They seemed absorbed in picking up some loosely scattered items. The sound of the door opening made them pause, and they quickly perked up, startled by my sudden appearance. But what truly captured my attention wasn¡¯t their reaction to my entrance. It was their unusual appearance. The proportions of this person were entirely off. Their limbs were elongated, about fifty percent longer than the average person''s, giving them an unnaturally stretched look. Most strikingly, their arms had three joints, bending in ways that defied normal human anatomy. They moved with an eerie fluidity, their extra joints allowing them to reach and grasp objects on the floor in a manner that was both fascinating and deeply unsettling. As I stood there, slightly taken aback, the person¡¯s head abruptly rotated, a full 180 degrees, while their back remained turned towards me. It was a sight straight out of a horror movie, yet there was nothing menacing about it. Their face, now directly facing me, bore a wide, toothy grin, revealing several rows of perfectly aligned, green teeth, and their four ruby-crystal-like eyes sparkled with what seemed like a mixture of elation and surprise. The creature¡­or person''s voice was surprisingly friendly and warm, contrasting sharply with its bizarre appearance. "Welcome to Misha''s Emporium, how may I help you today?" it asked, its tone infused with genuine hospitality. The person''s speech, though mostly fluent, had a notable hiccup when it came to certain English pronunciations. Particularly, it stumbled over the "ium" in "Emporium," cutting off the syllable entirely. This minor quirk, however, didn''t detract from its overall ability to communicate effectively. The rest of its speech flowed smoothly, suggesting a strong grasp of the language. For a moment, I was speechless, caught off guard by the surrealism of the encounter. The person''s form was unlike anything I had ever encountered, yet there was an unmistakable air of cordiality about it. Furthermore, I also knew exactly what I was looking at, which sent a shiver of excitement and apprehension through me: This person was a Gryplik¡­ Notice of break extension until January 8th Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! First and foremost, Happy New Year to all y''alls! I hope your 2024 will be a lot better than 2023 and that it will be a lot less stressful for all of us. May you remain (or return to) healthy!
With that out of the way, I''ll just jump right in: I will have to extend the current break on chapter for another week, until Monday January 8th. I apologise for this profusely, as I really hate having to break my schedule like this, but the past month has been too stressful for me and I need some more rest. Stolen novel; please report. I will return to work tomorrow and I''ve been informed by my boss that it''ll likely be a hellish week, so I expect the stress to just come piling and tumbling down on me right away again, so I can''t, in good conscience, promise any chapters in that time. I will try to write as much as I can, whenver I find the time, but in terms of scheduled releases, they won''t continue until January 8th. Thank you for your patience and I apologise once again. Neon Dragons is a new novel, so it feels really bad to kneecap its momentum this early on its life, but I hope that once this first week is over, I can return to the usual twice-a-week schedule I have originally promised.
For the Patreons: I sincerely thank you for your support so far. The promised 5 advance chapters will drop throughout this next coming week and should (hopefully) be available by the time that chapters continue here on Royal Road.
Once again, thank you for the support on Neon Dragons so far and I hope that you will have a great start into your 2024. Chapter 32 - Misha鈥檚 Emporium My gaze lingered on the strange creature before me, a mix of shock and fascination washing over me as I beheld the Gryplik, hunched over the ground and its unnaturally red eyes staring at me. Luckily, one of the playthroughs I had watched about Neon Dragons had encountered a member of their species, which gave me a blank-cheque to check out their wiki-page. I had delved deep into the wiki entries, absorbing everything about their history, biology, and cultural norms, along with the particular nuances of their major character appearances in the game. Sure, some might argue that a single encounter in a playthrough hardly justified such an extensive dive into the lore, but have they ever considered that, ¡°Fuck you, I made the rules¡±? The Gryplik, as I recalled, belonged to a group of sentient races in the game generally referred to as demi-humans. This term was used because, despite their distinct physical differences, they shared several notable characteristics with humans, blurring the lines between fantasy and familiar. They weren''t just background characters in the game''s world either; they had their own intricate histories, societies, and roles to play in the sprawling narrative of Neon Dragons. At first glance, they were all unmistakably humanoid, striding about on two legs and typically equipped with two arms. Of course, this wasn''t a hard and fast rule. A few outliers defied this standard, but, to my definite disappointment, you wouldn''t stumble upon any sentient feline-like beings among these demi-humans. No talking cats for Sera. At least for now. Now, the Gryplik stood apart from humans with their rather unique bodily proportions. Their limbs were notably elongated, giving them a surreal, almost Slenderman-esque appearance. But that''s not all¡ªtheir arms and legs boasted an unusual triple-jointed structure, adding a whole new dimension to their physical capabilities. Each of their hands and feet was further adorned with seven digits, enhancing their precision and dexterity to remarkable, beyond-human, levels. This anatomical advantage lent them extraordinary fine-motor skills, though at the cost of sheer muscular strength and brute force. In game terms, the Gryplik would be your quintessential crafters, experts in tasks requiring meticulous attention and a delicate touch. Before the Demi-Human Accords were established around twenty years prior, promising equal rights for humans and demi-humans alike in the bustling urban sprawl of Neon Dragons, the Gryplik were often subjected to brutal enslavement by humans and other species alike. Their exceptional craftsmanship skills, coupled with a lack of physical prowess to resist overpowering forces, sadly made them an ideal target for enslavement by the previous humans. Curiously, the Gryplik were once the most populous species on the planet, reigning in untold numbers until the tumultuous events of the Twilight War and the devastating aftermath of the Scorching Rapture. The origins of the Twilight War, a fierce battle for planetary dominance among various species, were enigmatic and very much obscured by the sands of time. Yet, it was strongly suspected by the community that the prolonged oppression of the Gryplik played a pivotal role in igniting the initial flames of the conflict. Fueled by years of subjugation, a coalition of both liberated and enslaved Gryplik united in fury, demolishing entire cities in a dramatic display of righteous vengeance. The debate over whether this uprising was the true catalyst for the war or simply a symptom of an already raging storm had been a hot topic among the lore nerds in the Neon Dragons community for months. Without concrete evidence to support either theory, however, the true cause remained an intriguing enigma until my last day, shrouded in wild speculation and mountains of mystery. The conclusion of the war, however, was not shrouded in mystery, yet it was every bit as heartbreaking and abrupt. The event that brought it to a halt was known as the Scorching Rapture, a disaster that seemed less like a twist of fate and more like the planet''s own furious outcry. This devastating phenomenon swept across the globe with fire and brimstone, a relentless tide of destruction that gave no quarter to human and demi-human alike. Nearly 97% of all life was extinguished in its wake, a merciless purge that wiped out countless species and civilizations, abruptly silencing the chaos of war with a forced, sombre truce. What was left of the planet lay in tatters, a shadow of its former vibrancy¡ªor so goes the stories. The rich history and potential futures of many, including the Gryplik, were irreversibly reshaped by this catastrophic series of events. Amidst this desolation, the Wall stood as the sole chance for survival. This mysterious barrier, the secrets of which I still deeply regretted not uncovering from those spoiler boxes, somehow managed to repel the Scorching Rapture, paving the way for the reality that now unfolded before me and ultimately leading to the beginning of the story of Neon Dragons. For me, standing here face-to-face with a member of the Gryplik race, and the likely proprietor of this store, this history translated into one exciting prospect: This Gryplik was bound to have some top-notch gear for sale! It dawned on me then that I''d been doing nothing but gawking at the Gryplik in front of me, wordlessly, for a good minute or two. Finally breaking the silence, I blurted out, ¡°Ehh¡­ Yes. Hello. I¡¯m in need of a few things¡ªsome quality clothes, a decent knife, maybe even some netrunning gear. Got anything like that?¡± My words tumbled out in a rush, as I tried to keep my gaze steady, not darting between the four intense red orbs that were fixed on me. I couldn¡¯t shake off the thought about the unique functionality of their eyes, each one designed for different levels of magnification. This ability allowed Gryplik to effortlessly switch between macro and micro perspectives. Feeling the weight of all four eyes on me was unnerving, like being scrutinised at a level most beings couldn''t even begin to fathom. The Gryplik responded with a hint of pride in its voice, ¡°Naturally, Misha¡¯s Emporium has all manner of things. What is your name?¡± They continued to drop the ''ium'' from ''emporium'', a small quirk in their speech. I couldn''t determine whether the Gryplik was male or female, but there was a distinct tone of reverence when they asked for my name. Surprisingly, I instantly grasped the significance of this¡ªthe moment they uttered the word with such respect, a piece of trivia clicked into place, enlightening me to the reason behind this oddity. The [Polyglot] Trait kicked into overdrive and began to unravel the intricate cultural tapestry of the Gryplik¡¯s relationship with names. Intriguingly, they lacked the conventional understanding of personal pronouns like ¡°you¡± and ¡°I.¡± Instead, their communication pivoted entirely around the use of names, both in reference to others and themselves. This newfound knowledge struck me as peculiar. The [Polyglot] Trait was designed to assist with language acquisition¡ªspeaking, writing, reading, and grasping basic cultural nuances, not for gleaming deeply-rooted cultural insights into why languages were the way they were. But here I was, delving into a deep dive, almost encyclopaedic, into the unique linguistic idiosyncrasies of an entire species. This insight also shed light on the Gryplik''s seemingly scripted manner of speaking. The roots of this practice traced back to the era preceding the Twilight War when Grypliks formed about half of the planet''s sentient population. Their staggering numbers birthed a cultural emphasis on names and their significance. In their society, the gravest insult was to be stripped of one¡¯s name, reduced to being just ¡°one of many,¡± or worse, a mere number. Over generations, Gryplik gradually lost the linguistic capacity to comprehend the very concept of an individual that is disconnected from a specific name. Consequently, when they pick up languages like English, the notions of "you" and "I" remain alien to them. They had likely memorised standard phrases for interacting with other sentients, enabling them to greet customers and navigate them through their store, even without knowing the relevance of their names. Their speech pattern, a mosaic of learned expressions, was their bridge to engaging in what they perceived as normal human interaction. The Gryplik''s remarkable adaptability left me thoroughly impressed, but equally astonishing was the depth and versatility of the [Polyglot] Trait. When I initially chose it, my sole intention was to use it for eavesdropping and communication. The prospect of gaining any deeper understanding hadn''t crossed my mind. Yet, faced with the Gryplik''s unique communication quirks, I found myself grateful for these unexpected nuggets of insight the trait provided. As I was about to share my name with the Gryplik, a curious thought popped into my head. ''What if I tried speaking in Gryplik? Would that offend them, or would it be a pleasant surprise?'' Thanks to [Polyglot], not only was I privy to the peculiarities of Gryplik speech, but I also had the ability to speak, write, and understand it. Merely considering it triggered the correct phrases to form in my mind, validating my capabilities. However, after a moment''s reflection, I decided against it. ''No, better not,'' I concluded. Speaking Japanese was one thing, but Gryplik? The thought of trying to justify that skill was daunting. How could I possibly explain acquiring such fluency if someone got curious? Claiming to have stumbled upon a data-shard that taught Gryplik at a beginner-to-native level would be unbelievable¡ªsuch a resource would easily be worth more than our entire apartment, considering the dearth of educational materials in this world. Better to play it safe. ¡°My name is Ela,¡± I answered, sticking to the same alias I had used with Mr. Shori and Vega. Consistency was key, especially if inquisitive minds started prying. The moment my name left my lips, I witnessed a remarkable transformation in the Gryplik''s behaviour. Its reaction was akin to a child receiving their favourite ice cream¡ªeyes wide with glee, a broad smile spreading across its face, radiating pure joy. ¡°My name is Misha, welcome to Misha¡¯s Emporium!¡± the Gryplik responded with a burst of enthusiasm. And in that instance, a curious realisation dawned on me: Misha was female. Her name, which would seem utterly gender-neutral by human standards, clearly denoted femininity in Gryplik culture. Thank you for that revelation, [Polyglot]! ¡°Let¡¯s head inside. Misha will show Ela the perfect items. Misha knows exactly what Ela is looking for!¡± she declared, her enthusiasm palpable. With a casual nonchalance, she began to drop the assorted pieces of clothing and miscellaneous merchandise she had gathered from the floor during our conversation. Each item landed haphazardly back on the floor, returning to its original disarray. Internally, I mused, ¡®Feels like I¡¯ve somehow been unofficially adopted,¡¯ as I prepared myself to be whisked away by this peculiar, overly eager demi-human. Her reaction to my name was intriguingly intense. ¡®And ¡°Ela¡± doesn¡¯t hold any special meaning in Gryplik, right? I made sure to double-check. Didn¡¯t want to accidentally call myself something offensive or bizarre in her language.¡¯ Watching Misha rise to her full height, I was struck once again by a sense of surreal familiarity¡ªit was like witnessing a character from the Slenderman tales that captivated the internet of my old life for a few months. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Her towering presence was both awe-inspiring and more than just a bit unnerving. If not for her cheerful demeanour and my wiki-sourced knowledge that Grypliks were not known for their physical strength, I might have been genuinely frightened of her very presence. Misha stood impressively tall, easily surpassing two metres. She could have been closer to two and a half metres, for all I could discern the difference. Her elongated, triple-jointed arm reached out towards me, an invitation to follow her inside. Hesitating just a moment to collect myself, I accepted her gesture gracefully. ''This is beyond insane,'' I thought, somewhat bemused. ''My first encounter with a demi-human and it''s all so... oddly casual.'' Misha''s lengthy, seven-fingered hand gently encircled mine and she lightly tugged me forward, guiding me towards a second set of doors. This boundary, I assumed, separated the initial reception and payment area from the main part of the Emporium. As Misha led me through the second set of doors, the interior of the Emporium unfurled before me like a scene from a cyberpunk daydream. Neon lights in jagged, electric hues cast sharp shadows across the chaotic assemblage of goods. Clothes of all kinds dangled from metallic hooks, draped over crates, or lay in vibrant piles on the floor. The arrangement was haphazard, a visual cacophony of colours and styles, yet it held a certain enigmatic charm. The clothing ranged from sleek, form-fitting bodysuits with glowing circuit patterns to rugged, patchwork jackets adorned with an array of undefined gadgets. There were also shelves lined with boots, each pair seemingly designed for a different, outlandish purpose. The variety was dizzying, a mishmash of the practical and the purely ornamental, all bearing the unmistakable flair of a world where technology and fashion had collided with wild abandon for far too long. Off to one side, a rack of knives caught my eye. Each blade glinted menacingly under the neon glow, ranging from simple, utilitarian designs to elaborate, almost sculptural pieces that seemed more art than weapon. Nearby, barrels brimming with various long-blades stood guard like silent sentinels, their contents promising protection or peril with equal indifference. As my eyes fell upon them, I couldn¡¯t stop an errand thought from intruding, ¡®I can¡¯t just go for a Katana or something right off the bat¡­ right?¡¯ Scattered throughout the space were also a variety of stations outfitted with netrunning equipment. These setups were an eclectic mix of old-school laptops, bona-fide looking decks, a rare crown or two, and tangled webs of cables connecting who-knows-what to who-knows-where. It was a netrunner''s paradise, offering tools for every conceivable digital heist or security breach, as far as I could surmise. Amidst the chaos, strangely unobtrusive armoured cases were placed at seemingly random intervals. They were sleek yet robust, their exact contents a mystery, but their presence hinted at valuable or dangerous items within. Each case seemed to hum with potential, an unspoken promise of power for those daring enough to inquire¡ªand liquid enough to afford their contents. There I stood, right in the heart of this eclectic emporium, when Misha finally released my hand. Her four, piercing eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that was both curious and disconcerting. ¡°So, what can Misha find for Ela? What does Ela need, exactly?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with an infectious excitement, clearly eager to dive into the task at hand. I was prepared for this question, having spent considerable time mulling over my requirements for these initial purchases, which I hoped would serve me well for the foreseeable future. To further ingratiate myself with the Gryplik¡ªand possibly secure a friendly discount¡ªI decided to mimic her unique manner of Gryplik-like speech. ¡°Ela is in need of specific attire with built-in protection. Mainly against blades, but if Misha has gear that could also fend off some low-calibre bullets, that would be perfect. Ela is looking for something fitting for an Operator on a low-tier mission. It must be subtle enough for Ela to blend into everyday life as well. Accessories like belts and bandoliers would be ideal, especially if they are modular, allowing Ela to attach or detach them as needed.¡± As soon as I finished speaking, Misha burst into a flurry of activity, muttering under her breath as she darted around the store. Her triple-jointed arms contorted in ways that defied my understanding, reaching into hidden nooks and crannies of the store that I couldn''t even see, let alone comprehend existed. I stood rooted to the spot, a spectator to this whirlwind of activity. Misha zipped back and forth, each time bringing an array of accessories and clothing items. With a quick, scrutinising glance, she would hold up various pieces against me, assessing them for fit and style. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she''d rush off again, her murmurs filling the air. "More of this," she''d say, or "No, no, not this. Ela does not want this," discarding items with decisive flicks of her elongated limbs, flinging them off to god-knows-where, never to be seen again. The whole process was bewildering, a chaotic blend of precision and haste. Yet, amidst this frenzy, I felt an odd sense of being cared for. Misha''s dedication to finding the perfect gear for me was evident in her every move. It was a strange, almost surreal experience, watching this Gryplik proprietor whirl around her emporium with such purpose, zeal and undeniably enthusiasm. I wasn¡¯t sure whether this enthusiasm was just her natural state or if my attempts at ingratiating myself to her through me giving my name willingly and mimicking her manner of speech had anything to do with it. Regardless, her energy was infectious, and despite my initial uncertainty, I found myself growing more excited with each item she selected. The care she took in considering each piece, judging its suitability for my needs, was both impressive and heartening. I couldn''t help but feel that I was in good hands, even as I struggled to keep up with her rapid pace and the surprising variety of items she presented. In mere minutes, the store transformed into a landscape littered with an assortment of discarded clothes, accessories, and equipment. Amidst this chaos, Misha towered above me, a grin of achievement on her face, proudly presenting a curated collection she had aptly labelled as ¡°Ela wants this,¡± throughout her frenzy. ¡°Misha has returned!¡± she declared with a flourish, handing over the carefully chosen ensemble. At first glance, I could definitely not complain about her decisions so far. Each piece was a study in muted sophistication, predominantly in shades of sleek black and grey. Their substantial heft hinted at some kind of reinforced fabric, likely integrated into most of the clothes for added protection, just like I had asked for. ¡°Ela should try! There are changing rooms! Misha will show Ela!¡± she urged enthusiastically, her excitement palpable as she began to guide me towards a secluded corner of the store. The effort it took her to pull me along was unexpectedly significant, and I couldn''t help but note her physical limitations. ¡®They really aren¡¯t strong at all, are they?¡¯ I mused, observing her struggle despite her eagerness and considering my own relatively petite stature. ¡®Just a small girl, and she''s finding it hard to pull me along.¡¯ I pondered how Misha managed her daily tasks with such a level of physical frailty. It struck me that she seemed to be constantly operating at a physical capability akin to a Body value of around 1.5, similar to what I had experienced just days ago. Yet, unlike me, she appeared to navigate her world without any apparent struggle, adapting to her limitations with a resilience that was both admirable and intriguing. Inside the cramped confines of the changing room, I began to don the clothes that Misha had selected for me. First, I started off with a dark, soft undershirt that felt like nothing I had ever worn before. There was a certain density to it, that made me think it could provide at least a modicum of protection, despite being a seemingly simple shirt. Next was an olive-green bomber jacket that came with an array of pouches and pockets¡ªa definite step up from the almost pocket-less wardrobe I had found in Sera¡¯s home! Its sturdy mag-zipper slid up with a satisfying heft, and I felt the durable and heavy fabric settle on my shoulders with a comfortable weight. ¡®This one definitely has some sort of inlays in the fabric. There¡¯s no way simple fabric could be this heavy, unless it¡¯s completely drenched,¡¯ I thought to myself with a smile beginning to form on my face. The tactical, tight-fitting, yet comfortable pants were next, the material flexing easily and without any noise or stretching as I moved. They had the same colour as my undershirt, creating a slight contrast with the bomber-jacket¡¯s olive-green. The pockets and straps it came with were positioned in just the right places to be easily accessible yet not cumbersome. Whoever originally designed these pants definitely knew what they were doing. Finally, I got to the assortment of accessories that Misha had laid out for me. Slipping my hands into the black, reinforced gloves, I made a fist, appreciating the way they protected my hands without sacrificing any dexterity. I could even properly feel through them with my fingertips, hinting at some sort of tech-wizardry going on with them. Next was a similarly dark-coloured scarf that I quickly wrapped around my neck, its fabric soft yet thick, a comforting barrier against the ever-present smog of the city proper. This would definitely come in handy whenever I started leaving Delta. Next, I secured the numerous belts and bandoliers around my chest and waist, each pouch and holster both fashion statement and utilitarian alike. The buckles clicked into place easily, a sound that echoed the readiness I felt building within me. Finally, I laced up the sturdy combat boots Misha had sought out for me, their solid, reinforced soles reassuring me that I could run, fight, or stand my ground as needed¡ªnot that I planned to do any of that quite yet, however. Before I stepped out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the changing room mirror, the same type of black-assembly as I had seen in Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. The girl looking back was a far cry from who I had been just days ago, when I had checked myself for the first time in the stall¡¯s mirror. She instead looked capable, formidable even, someone who not only started to truly understand the dangers of her world but was also equipped to face them¡ªmaybe not head-on, but looking at them through the rear-view mirror while she runs away as fast as she can. There was just one thing that was completely off with the picture in the mirror: My goddamn hair. ¡®Gods, I really need a fucking haircut. What kind of cyberpunk girl runs around with unkempt brown hair? Where¡¯s the colour? Where¡¯s the neon?! What on earth was the original Sera thinking with this look...?¡¯ I thought as I stepped out of the changing room, to an overly excited and energetic Misha. "Ela looks outstanding! This is the look! Misha is very pleased with Ela''s appearance!" She announced with a boisterous cheer, then paused, casting a glance around the room as if seeking affirmation from an invisible audience. I couldn''t suppress a broad smile, charmed by the Gryplik''s endearing behaviour and her candid enthusiasm. And truth be told, she had hit the nail on the head¡ªthis was more than just a good look. Misha had nailed it, selecting the perfect gear with remarkable speed and precision, even though my own specifications had been somewhat vague. Yet, before I could fully commit to the transaction, two crucial queries hovered in my mind, demanding clarity: the specifics of my outfit and, inevitably, the cost. "Ela is curious, why did Misha pick out these particular items?" I motioned towards the bomber jacket and the scarf, the two elements that intrigued me the most. "And Ela would appreciate understanding what materials all these are crafted from, if Misha would be willing and able to explain." Misha¡¯s eyes brightened, clearly delighted to share her expertise. "The bomber jacket," she began with a hint of pride, "is crafted from a high-tech Synth-Weave interlaced with reinforced aramid fibres. It¡¯s quite resilient, especially against stabs and sharp objects.¡± She ran her fingers along the jacket''s surface, demonstrating its toughness. ¡°But," she added with a more serious tone, "it is less effective against bullets. So, Ela should avoid getting shot. It''s very unhealthy." Then she picked up the scarf, her hands gently cradling the fabric. "This scarf is woven from a special nano-fibre. It''s designed to filter out toxins, even up to Tier 1 gases¡ªwhat you might encounter from law enforcement or gang weaponry." She chuckled softly, a playful twinkle in her eye. ¡°And, it frames Ela''s face beautifully, which is very cute, by the way.¡± The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, warming my cheeks to a bright red. It had been an age and a half since anyone had sincerely called me cute. But I was just a teenage girl now, so it kind of made sense. Misha continued enthusiastically, detailing the rest of the ensemble. "The undershirt and the pants are also made from a blend of Aramid and Synth-Weave fibres, though with less aramid compared to the jacket. This makes them lighter, easier to move in, and more breathable¡ªa necessary trade-off for agility, Misha is sure Ela understands." She gestured toward the belts, noting, "These are designed for utility and rapid access to tools and gadgets. They are very versatile, so Ela can combine them as Ela sees fit. They''re very sturdy yet equally flexible, ensuring that Ela can carry what is needed without being weighed down at any time!¡± Lastly, she straightened up to her full height before confidently stating, ¡°Misha has personally maintained these items to their highest possible standards. Misha has even improved upon them in some aspects over the years. Misha promises they are a perfect fit for Ela and Ela¡¯s needs.¡± She concluded with a nod, confident in the functionality and thought behind each piece, providing me not just with clothing, but with a second skin tailored for the exact things I intended to face soon. Scanning over the exquisite gear Misha had assembled, I couldn''t pinpoint a flaw or fathom any reason to decline. Her breakdown of each item''s capabilities was spot on, aligning perfectly with my needs. There remained just one final detail to iron out: The price. "How much will this set Ela back? Ela is ready to take it all; Misha has outdone herself," I inquired, mentally steeling myself for the financial blow. My credit stash was modest at best, and I was keen on avoiding tapping into the restricted shard reserved for my Operator plans. Keeping my future endeavours concealed from Valeria was paramount, should it be at all possible. A pang of regret for my earlier generosity towards the beggar nipped at me, though I quickly scolded myself, ''It was the right thing to do, Sera. No second-guessing.'' Nonetheless, a shadow of remorse lingered, my thoughts drifting back to the morning''s events¡ªthe abduction of the girl, the haunting feeling of helplessness. Could I have intervened, altered the outcome with a simple act of defiance from within the crowd? I had trained up my [Throwing] quite a lot, after all. Had there been a way to balance my karma more judiciously? Donating the credits had been an impulsive attempt to ease my conscience, yet now, juxtaposed with the potential expense laid out before me, it seemed less like benevolence and more like folly. Moving forward, I vowed to weigh such decisions with greater care, even when under duress or in the grip of panic¡­ Chapter 33 - Bargains Misha''s smile widened in response to my query, her green teeth catching the neon glow from above in a way that was almost startling, ¡°Ah, the price¡ªalways the critical detail. For the entire selection, Misha asks for 184 Credits. Misha insists on selling the set as a whole! Ela must have the complete ensemble to truly shine, so no piece by piece transactions!¡± Her tone held a firmness that surprised me, suggesting there was no room for negotiation. ''Great. I''m precisely 24 Credits short, thanks to my earlier attempts to make myself feel better... And yet, 184 Credits for all these items is nothing short of a steal, especially since the scarf and jacket alone likely qualify as T1 gear, or Pseudo-Tier 1, at the very least. In-game these two alone would easily go for 200 creds. There''s no chance I''ll stumble upon anything of comparable quality at a lower price elsewhere,'' I mulled over my predicament, my mind racing for a solution. With the shortfall in mind, I had to think creatively. The thought of passing up the gear Misha had masterfully curated was not an option, yet the idea of alerting Valeria to my acquisitions was equally unacceptable. Sure, the attire itself might not spark undue interest from her, but I wasn''t willing to take that gamble. Frankly, I didn¡¯t quite know why I didn¡¯t want her to be aware of my clothing purchases.. It wasn''t as if she bore any visible animosity towards Operators, but then again, my acquaintance with her was limited at best. The extent of my knowledge was that she was extremely frightening, someone who expressed her discontent in ways that defied my wildest notions, as I had witnessed first-hand during that last unsettling family dinner. My immediate goal was to assemble a basic Operator''s kit, robust enough to tackle straightforward assignments from Mr. Stirling without falling victim to the first scavenger lying in wait. Given that Mr. Stirling had approached Valeria for debt settlement, I doubted he''d have me performing trivial tasks like household chores. I was bracing myself for assignments akin to the one I undertook for Mr. Shori¡ªtasks that demanded a certain level of readiness, hence the need for appropriate gear. While Valeria might appreciate my earnest approach to these responsibilities, I had no desire for her to pore over my clothing choices. It would be far less problematic to have her evaluate a knife or a cyberdeck than to justify my apparel preferences¡ªespecially since I had grown quite fond of the outfit Misha had put together for me. Weighing these considerations, a single course of action crystallised in my mind. ''Time to channel the art of negotiation,'' I thought resolutely. "Misha, Ela has but 160 credits to offer now," I proposed, my voice steady, yet imbued with the earnestness of my predicament. "In return, Ela pledges to purchase further pieces right away and in the future as well, investing exclusively in Misha¡¯s fine selection whenever possible. Ela knows this is a considerable request, yet Ela¡¯s funds are finite, and there''s still a need for further equipment beyond the clothing," I asserted, matching Misha''s toothy grin with a confident smile of my own. Misha''s expression turned inward as she pondered my counter-offer. She began to mutter to herself in Gryplik, the language a series of rolling rumbles and sharp clicks that filled the air with its strange melody. To an unfamiliar ear, it would have sounded almost like an alien song, but thanks to my [Polyglot] Trait, I understood her musings perfectly. "{Can Misha trust this Ela?}" she mused, her voice a low, rhythmic hum punctuated by soft clacks of her tongue. "{Ela offered Ela¡¯s name freely, mirrored Misha''s speech to improve communication. These are signs of respect and trustworthiness, for sure. But it might be a trap?}" Her murmurs continued, a contemplative cadence, "{Ela seems sincere, but business is business. Misha must be wise. Yet, a returning customer is valuable. This Ela could be a good ally, maybe even a friend to Misha''s Emporium. Ela is young, too. Barely hatched, even. Ela could be a long-lasting customer for Misha. Misha would very much like that. But for that to happen, Ela is not allowed to die soon. To make sure of that, Ela needs equipment¡­}" Her language, though foreign, had a pattern and a flow that was almost hypnotic. The clicks and hums, the rise and fall of her tones, all conveyed her internal debate clearly to me. It was fascinating to hear my own fate being deliberated in such an exotic tongue, knowing that each utterance and pause was a step closer to her decision. Finally, Misha''s muttering slowed, and she fixed her four beady eyes on me. The alien sounds ceased, replaced by the palpable anticipation that hung between us. Her thoughtful frown eased into a more neutral expression, a sign she had reached a conclusion, but didn¡¯t want to show her hand too early. I was already privy to Misha''s decision, having understood her Gryplik mutterings perfectly. Nonetheless, I maintained a suitably eager facade, not wanting to spoil the suspense of her announcement. "Misha agrees to Ela''s proposal. 160 credits for the ensemble. But Ela must commit to future purchases right away and come back for more later as well," she declared, her eyes scanning my face for a reaction. Her decision was met with my sincere gratitude. There was no need to feign my relief and thankfulness; I was genuinely appreciative of her willingness to accept my offer, especially given the initial bargain price of the gear. "Misha has Ela''s thanks! Ela is truly grateful and will ensure to come back for more. Ela will transfer the credits now and then discuss additional equipment needs, if Misha agrees?" I responded with heartfelt enthusiasm. Misha''s grin widened, her green teeth glinting in the neon light, as she nodded eagerly at the prospect of another equipment hunt. I quickly accessed my cerebral interface, transferring all my available personal credits to Misha¡¯s Emporium.
[You have transferred {c}160 to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± account with the note: ¡°Ela thanks Misha for the kindness.¡±]
As I completed the transaction, I noticed a subtle change in the two red eyes on Misha''s left side, briefly flickering to yellow. ''So, the demi-humans do use specialised cybernetics. I¡¯ve always wondered about that,'' I thought, observing her eyes more closely. ''Makes sense, especially for Gryplik. Enhancing their limited physical abilities with cybernetics is bound to be a massive upgrade. I wonder what other augmentations Misha has?'' This insight into Gryplik physiology and their adaptation to technology piqued my curiosity even further. ¡°Misha thanks Ela for the patronage! Now, what else does Ela require? Ela mentioned a knife of some sort?¡± The Gryplik inquired, eager to get into the next section of their dealings. Eager to capitalise on Misha''s own eagerness to assist, I promptly began detailing my requirements for a knife. ¡°Ela is in need of a combat knife, small enough to conceal easily. It should fit comfortably in Ela''s hands, but with enough weight to ensure it can serve as a reliable defence tool in the event that Ela is forced to use it. Durability is key¡ªEla is looking for a blade that can maintain a sharp edge for an extended period, even if that makes it more challenging to sharpen initially.¡± This preference was born from my experience with the knife Gabriel had procured for me. The blade I had received from Gabriel was serviceable, yet it fell short of my unique needs and wasn''t quite in harmony with my [Sharpen] Perk. Its softer material meant it lost its edge faster than I preferred, clearly designed for frequent sharpening to maintain sharpness, rather than preserving a sharp edge over time. This design is typical for a self-defence knife, where a slightly softer metal reduces the risk of chipping or breaking. In dire situations, it''s better to have a blade that might dull or get minor nicks, which can be easily rectified, than to end up with a fractured knife when you need it most. However, my requirements were different. I wasn''t anticipating frequent use of the knife. My objective was to have a blade consistently at peak sharpness for those rare moments when it would be necessary. I wasn''t planning on turning into a strange type of vigilante, taking down all the scavs on this side of the Red Wasteland. The [Sharpen] Perk did a fantastic job at bringing a blade to its sharpest state, but it didn¡¯t maintain that level of sharpness over time. Therefore, a blade that inherently held its edge was more valuable to me than one that was simply easier to sharpen, as the perk eliminated the need for regular maintenance. My stint at Mr. Shori¡¯s had been quite educational in understanding the longevity of sharpness in different types of knives, which had ultimately led me to formulate this particular requirement. For example, his general-purpose knife retained its edge for a longer duration compared to his more specialised blades. This experience helped me appreciate the superiority of harder blades in maintaining sharpness. Mr. Shori himself had expressed admiration for my ability to sharpen the harder knives, which he had found challenging to perfect himself. With a clear understanding of what I needed, I looked to Misha, trusting she would comprehend the intricacies of my request and aid in choosing the ideal knife. To my great satisfaction, she sprang into action, her enthusiasm palpable as she navigated towards the array of knife racks scattered across her shop. Her movements were quick and precise, showing off a level of understanding of her own store¡¯s interiors that was impressive, to say the least. Misha meticulously examined each knife, her slender, triple-jointed arms reaching for one blade after another. She held them up to the light, her keen eyes assessing their form and craftsmanship to a level I couldn¡¯t possibly comprehend. She was undoubtedly using her micro-focus eyes to check for imperfections in the blades of the knives and similar. She tested their flexibility, applying gentle pressure to gauge their give and resilience, ensuring they weren''t too brittle or prone to snapping. Her scrutiny wasn''t limited to just bending the knives either; she also tested their edge on various scraps of fabric she picked up from her eclectic collection. She sliced through thick denim, delicate silk, and tough leather, evaluating how each blade interacted with different materials. This wasn''t just about sharpness; it was about understanding the blade''s behaviour under practical conditions. The knives themselves were a diverse lot as well¡ªsome were sleek and straight, designed for precision and speed. Others were broader and curved, offering more heft and power behind each cut. Their handles varied too, from simple, utilitarian grips to more ornate designs that seemed to meld into Misha¡¯s hands. As Misha sifted through her collection, I watched on in fascination. Her expertise was evident in the way she handled each knife, considering its weight, balance, and blade length. She seemed determined to find not just a good knife, but the perfect one that matched my unique requirements. Her dedication to this task was similarly as enthusiastic and focused as she had been with my outfit, which gave me certainty that she would find the exact knife I required. In a matter of minutes, Misha returned, but this time, her demeanour was tinged with uncertainty. It was a stark contrast to her earlier vibrancy when she had successfully assembled my outfit. ¡°Misha is here,¡± she stated, her usual exuberance noticeably subdued. A crease of concern furrowed her brow, causing me to brace for potential disappointment. ¡®Has she not found a knife meeting my criteria?¡¯ I wondered, feeling a twinge of concern as my optimism began to wane. With a hint of apology in her tone, Misha revealed, ¡°Misha must confess, finding the perfect knife for Ela proved challenging. Misha found two that might suit, but couldn¡¯t decide which is the best. Misha is sorry for this, but Ela will need to make the final choice.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. She extended her arms, presenting two distinct knives for my consideration. Surprisingly, Misha seemed genuinely distressed, which caught me off guard. I had expected her to be more pleased, having found not one, but two potential matches for my requirements. Normally, such a situation would be a reason to celebrate. Yet, Misha appeared almost apologetic, troubled by her inability to narrow it down to a single, ideal option that she was confident would appeal to me. Her commitment to meeting my needs exactly was both endearing and impressive. As Misha extended the two knives towards me, I took a moment to carefully examine each one, intrigued by their distinct characteristics yet how both aligned with my initial request. Misha simultaneously gave me all the information that I couldn¡¯t ascertain from a quick glance, such as the composition of the metals and their creation. The first knife had a more traditional design, its blade straight and sleek, eerily similar to the combat knife that Gabriel had gotten me. Its metal gleamed under the store¡¯s neon lights, easily showcasing its fine, razor-sharp edge. It was about 18cm long, the same size that Gabriel¡¯s knife had been and a size that promised ease of concealment. The handle was wrapped in a non-slip material¡ªsome kind of rope, offering a very firm grip when I tried it out. This knife was balanced, its weight distributed evenly between the blade and the handle, suggesting it would be comfortable to use in various situations. The knife didn''t boast any flashy attributes; instead, it exuded a sense of understated efficiency. It was an ordinary-looking blade, yet its design and build promised of a reliable and capable tool. The second knife, in contrast, had a subtle curve to its blade, giving it a more aggressive appearance. This curvature was not just aesthetic but also very functional, designed to increase cutting efficiency and leverage in a combat scenario. The blade was slightly shorter, around 15cm, but it was decidedly thicker, indicating a robustness that would withstand rigorous use. Its handle was ergonomically shaped, moulded to fit comfortably in the palm, and made of a durable, textured rubber-like material that provided a secure grip even in adverse conditions. Both knives boasted a high-grade durasteel composition, indicating they were capable of retaining a sharp edge over time. Unlike the more commonly used plasteel alloys¡ªas there was no way I could afford a pure plasteel knife at this stage, durasteel boasted a lot more durability, while losing out on the overall sharpness. The materials of these knives were precisely what I had been searching for, but without Misha''s expertise, locating the ideal type would have been incredibly challenging. Both blades exhibited full tang construction, with the metal extending seamlessly into the handle for increased strength and reliability, a stark contrast to handles simply bolted onto blades, which were more susceptible to breaking. Each knife held its unique advantages¡ªthe first with its classic, all-purpose design, and the second with its more specialised, curved blade. Misha''s dilemma in choosing between them was understandable; both were outstanding in their own right, perfectly aligning with my specifications in different ways. As I weighed the knives in my hands, I pondered over my options. My [Knives] Skill hinted that the straight blade would be easier to handle, yet the curved one promised greater damage potential with proper mastery. Additionally, the straight knife''s symmetrical design made it better suited for throwing, a technique I didn''t plan on utilising often, but still a factor to consider in rare, extreme situations. The decision was as tough for me as it had been for Misha, albeit for reasons she couldn''t possibly know, given my unique circumstances with the G.E.M.A. System and my specific requirements for a knife. After a few more minutes of careful consideration and a barrage of questions about their make and type, I finally settled on the RaZ Mk. 2, the straight blade. Its suitability for potential throwing emerged as the deciding factor, an edge I couldn''t quite find in the curved blade despite my best efforts to justify it. Both knives were exceptional, and part of me longed to acquire both, lured by their cool factor. However, practicality and financial constraints, not to mention the prospect of having to justify such purchases to Valeria under the pretence of "self-protection," quickly quashed that desire. Its design and capabilities felt right for what I envisioned, "Ela will choose the RaZ Mk. 2, Misha. It seems like the perfect fit for Ela''s needs. Thank Misha. Misha has excelled once more! How much will the RaZ cost Ela?" I inquired, my voice tinged with anticipatory curiosity. Internally, I was already calculating the potential dent in my finances. Unlike the more budget-friendly knife Gabriel had procured for me, this one was crafted from durasteel, a material renowned for its durability and, consequently, its higher price point than regular steel. Gabriel''s knife had cost 96 credits, leading me to brace for at least double that figure for the superior RaZ. That would dip significantly into my restricted shard, potentially leaving me with just short of 150 credits or so. ''I might need to put my haggling hat on once again,'' I mused, ''A deck that¡¯s worth its weight and cost for 150 credits seems like a tall order.'' As Misha deliberated over the price, she unconsciously slipped into her native Gryplik, her mutterings revealing her thought process. She seemed to be thinking out loud, under the assumption that I, just like any other customer, couldn''t understand her. ¡°{Ela probably isn''t flush with credits¡­ Ela''s quite young, after all. And Ela needs more gear... Maybe it''s best to offer a reasonable deal on the knife, to encourage Ela to spend all of Ela¡¯s credits here. If the price is too steep, Ela might not have enough left for the other equipment Ela needs. Worse, Ela might turn to another store for the rest¡­ Misha can¡¯t risk that!}¡± Her words were laced with a blend of business strategy and consideration for my financial situation. Misha was weighing her pricing not just to make a sale, but to ensure I could afford everything I needed from her store. It was a delicate balance of trying to secure her business interests while being mindful of my potential budget constraints. This inner dialogue showcased her astuteness in business and her understanding of customer loyalty¡ªshe was aiming to make a sale that was beneficial for both of us. As I considered the entire interaction, a wave of gratitude washed over me. ''Mr. Shori really did me a solid by recommending Misha''s place. She''s been nothing short of ideal for what I needed, and my [Polyglot] Trait has proven to be incredibly advantageous in navigating this deal as well!'' I thought, mentally extending a heartfelt ''thank you'' to Mr. Shori through my imaginary psychic link. My silent gratitude was interrupted when Misha, snapping me back to the present, stated, ¡°Misha will offer the RaZ Mk. 2 to Ela for 148 Credits. Misha thinks this is a good deal and believes Ela will find it agreeable as well.¡± ''148 Credits? That''s a ridiculously good deal!'' I realised, thoroughly surprised. The price was significantly lower than what I had braced for, considering Gabriel¡¯s previous purchase and the general pricing trends I remembered from the game. Misha''s offer was not just reasonable; it was an outright steal. ''I can''t possibly haggle down from here without disrespecting her generosity,'' I thought, acknowledging the value of her offer. ¡°Ela gratefully accepts and deeply appreciates Misha''s generosity!¡± I responded enthusiastically, my smile reflecting my genuine appreciation. Misha handed me the RaZ Mk. 2 with her elongated, graceful limbs. After completing the exchange, she turned and stretched her tall, slender form toward the knife rack, skillfully manoeuvring her body to return the curved knife to its place. Her ease and fluidity in movement, despite her towering stature, were a fascinating sight. I carefully inserted the blood-red Restricted Shard into my neck-slot, a familiar interface immediately springing to life before my eyes. This interface was something I had seen numerous times during the let¡¯s plays and game playthroughs I had watched. In the game, Restricted Shards were given by quest-givers to players for purchasing essential gear and equipment for specific missions. The developers had ingeniously designed this mechanism to prevent players from simply hoarding the funds without a certain level of challenge. Now, faced with this interface in reality, I braced myself for the next step.
[Please scan your intended purchases. Provide a detailed 3D-scan of each item, along with a concise description and its intended uses. This data will be directly sent to the Shard-Lender for approval.]
I held the RaZ knife in my right hand, my eyes serving as scanners for the Shard¡¯s embedded program. The process was surprisingly efficient; within seconds of beginning the scan, the interface prompted me to rotate the knife for a comprehensive view. ''I''m glad this isn¡¯t as cumbersome as it was in the game,'' I thought with relief. In Neon Dragons, using Restricted Shards for purchases was often frustrating due to the scanning feature''s sensitivity to angles and lighting. This complication stemmed from the game''s intricate crafting system, which allowed players to create and modify their own items, including run-time alterations to the 3D models. It was a core feature of the game, integral to its appeal and too complex to be simplified by the developers. Fortunately, the real-life version was more user-friendly. I was free to move and rotate my hand naturally, without the constraints of the game''s coded animations. The absence of any clipping issues with my clothing or the knife was a noticeable and welcome improvement, making the whole process smoother and more intuitive. In just a few seconds, I input all the relevant details into the interface: The knife''s model name, the materials it was made out of¡ªwhich I had received previously from Misha, its precise dimensions, and my purpose for it, which I claimed was self-defence. ¡®Hopefully Valeria doesn¡¯t feel¡ª¡¯ before I could finish the thought, the shard¡¯s interface popped up in my field of vision again.
[Shard-Lender has approved the transaction of 148 Credits to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± for the purchase of ¡°RaZ Mk. 2 - Combat Knife¡±.]
I let out an involuntary "Huh," caught off guard by Valeria¡¯s swift approval. I had half-expected some delay, considering she was likely busy with her own work. I had even planned a strategy to keep the conversation going with Misha while awaiting confirmation, but that was now unnecessary.
[You have transferred {c}148 to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± account from the Restricted Shard with the note: ¡°Ela thanks Misha for the kindness, once again.¡±] [Restricted Shard Balance Update: {c} 333 -> {c} 185]
''Okay, that leaves me with just enough for a beginner-level deck, assuming Misha stocks them and assuming I can get a slight discount on it, as well,'' I thought, mentally celebrating my small victory. Misha¡¯s melodious voice pulled me back to the present. ¡°Misha is grateful for Ela¡¯s business. Now, did Ela need another item? Misha is ready to assist.¡± Emboldened by her willingness to help, I dove right in, ¡°Yes, Ela would be grateful! Ela is in need of a beginner-level deck for netrunning. It should have at least 7 units of RAM and a heat capacity of at least 4. If possible, a physical wire connection would be ideal, though it''s not a deal-breaker. Storage capacity is mostly irrelevant, as long as it¡¯s not below 2 units. Does Misha have something like this?¡± Misha, who until now had been confidently navigating through her store''s inventory to find exactly what I needed, paused for the first time since my arrival. A hint of hesitation flickered across her face, an unusual expression for the usually decisive Gryplik. ¡°Misha must admit,¡± she began slowly, ¡°Misha is not very knowledgeable about decks or netrunning. While Misha could select something based on Ela¡¯s specifications, it might be better for Ela to look at the options and try them out?¡± She explained that while she could easily pick out a device that matched my technical requirements, her lack of expertise in netrunning gear meant she couldn¡¯t confidently recommend the perfect fit for my needs. Her honesty was refreshing, and I appreciated her suggesting that a hands-on approach might yield a better result. Misha then added, ¡°Misha also has a couple of crowns in stock, in case Ela is interested¡­?¡± Before she could elaborate, I quickly interjected, ¡°Ela greatly appreciates the offer, but a crown is far beyond Ela¡¯s budget for now. Ela will keep it in mind for future upgrades, however.¡± The allure of owning a crown was undoubtedly strong, yet given my current budgetary constraints, such a luxury was more a fantasy than a realistic goal. Crowns represented the pinnacle of netrunning equipment, combining form and function in a downright majestic manner. Most crowns resembled headbands or tiaras, their design often evocative of regal crowns, complete with an array of electronic components protruding outward, mimicking the intricate embellishments of mediaeval royal headpieces, hence the name. These devices were a hybrid of advanced decks and cutting-edge netrunning cybernetics, yet remarkably lightweight and adaptable. Their modularity was a key feature; they weren¡¯t restricted to being worn on the head. You could hold them in your hands or wear them as traditional headgear, and they still offered all the capabilities of integrated netrunning cybernetics. Crowns were technological masterpieces, the ultimate aspirational gear-choice for any serious netrunner. They provided unparalleled advantages, and there were only a handful of scenarios where traditional decks or cybernetics might be more suitable. But for the time being, my focus had to remain on acquiring the essentials within my financial reach. As much as I desired the advanced capabilities of a crown, pragmatic considerations had to take precedence. Resolving to explore the decks myself, I followed Misha to where she stored her netrunning equipment. Her guidance had been invaluable thus far, and even in this instance, her candid admission helped me make a more informed decision. Misha led me towards a collection of robust armoured cases¡ªthe same kind that I had seen earlier when I had first entered the back room. With practised ease, she opened them one after the other, unveiling an impressive assortment of decks. Each case revealed devices of various sizes and models, catering to a range of netrunning needs. ¡°Misha hopes Ela finds what Ela needs here,¡± she said, motioning towards the array of decks now spread out in front of me. ¡°These meet the specifications Ela described. Please, Ela should feel free to examine them as thoroughly as necessary. Misha will be nearby, ready to assist or answer any queries Ela might have.¡± Gratefully, I flashed her a broad smile and nodded to convey my thanks and understanding. Then, I crouched down beside the cases, my attention captured by the diverse selection. I reached out, selecting the first deck at random, its weight and texture immediately registering in my hands. This was the moment to choose a tool that would kickstart my journey into the world of netrunning. The perfect deck for me was undoubtedly somewhere in this collection, and I was determined to find it¡­ Chapter 34 - Unexpected Deals I picked up the first deck and began examining it more intently, turning it over in my hands. In my previous life, I had seen countless decks in various playthroughs, but holding one physically was an entirely new experience. The deck''s weight and texture felt more substantial and real than any digital representation could ever possibly convey. This particular deck was reminiscent of modern-day tablets, yet it possessed a distinct heft that spoke to its vastly enhanced capabilities compared to it. It was decidedly thicker, accommodating the powerful hardware needed for advanced netrunning tasks, far surpassing the capabilities of any contemporary tablet of my old life. The deck''s exterior boasted a sleek, matte black finish, lending it a look that was understated yet sophisticated. Measuring about 33cm diagonally, it provided a sizable workspace that was ample for efficient use without being overly large or difficult to conceal. Its sides were further dotted with a variety of I/O ports, some familiar and others entirely alien to me. I noted several small openings and slots whose functions were beyond my current understanding, hinting at the deck''s versatility and potentially avenues for further learning. One feature that immediately caught my attention was the physical wire connection, something I definitely valued fairly highly. There were quite a few situations where a wireless hack was impossible, so having the physical wire connection was a must-have, for any aspiring netrunner. While most netrunners had their own implants that provided this feature, I didn¡¯t have that luxury, so I¡¯d have to resort to a deck with that capability instead. With a gentle tug, I extended the thin, flexible cable from the deck. It retracted smoothly with a satisfying whirr as I let go of it after a brief inspection, clicking securely back into its housing on the right-hand side of the device. This self-retracting mechanism was both practical and elegant, ensuring the cable was always accessible yet never in the way. The deck''s screen was, naturally, touch-sensitive, responding promptly to the lightest tap or swipe. However, what truly set it apart from modern tablets or the more bulky laptops of the Neo Avalis life, was its ability to interface directly with a person¡¯s eye implants. This feature allowed for stealthy operations where turning on the screen wasn''t feasible, offering an alternative way to interact with the device discreetly. As I delved into the process of comparing the first deck I picked with the array Misha had laid out, I continuously sought her insights for more detailed information about each model. My focus was particularly on the materials used in their construction and the range of I/O options they offered. It was crucial for me to select a deck that was not only robust and durable but also capable of keeping pace with my evolving netrunning skills in the future. Opting for a basic, inexpensive starter deck might suffice for the moment, given my current limitations in quick-hacks and netrunning proficiency. However, I was very much aware that I would probably outgrow such a model quite quickly. The G.E.M.A. System, which had become an integral part of my existence in this world ever since I had arrived here, had already demonstrated its capability to accelerate my Skill and Attribute development significantly. My progress in areas governed by the System was remarkably faster than what would otherwise be expected in this reality¡ªor any reality, for that matter. Given this rapid rate of advancement, I anticipated being able to craft my own quick-hacks in a matter of days or maybe weeks at most, a stark contrast to the months or even years it typically took a novice netrunner to grasp the complexities of Cyber and its practical applications in the real world with quick-hack development. Therefore, investing in a more advanced, future-proof deck seemed not just economically sensible, but a logical choice considering my unique situation. This approach would ensure that the deck remained a valuable asset as my netrunning abilities advanced, rather than becoming a limitation I would soon need to address. I couldn¡¯t exactly hope for Valeria to give me access to such a massive sum of Credits anytime soon again, after all. Moreover, I had no intention of using my birthday request on something as attainable as this with a bit of saving; it felt like a waste of a valuable opportunity. My continued evaluation of the different models of decks lasted for about half an hour. Throughout this time, Misha was a constant presence, responding to each of my inquiries with patience and attentiveness. Her expertise was invaluable, guiding me through the nuances of each model. However, as I narrowed my choices down to two final models, a question about the store itself nagged at the back of my mind. I realised I hadn''t encountered any other customers since entering Misha''s shop. ''It''s been well over an hour, and yet Misha has dedicated all her time to me. Is this store always so quiet? Are Gryplik-operated shops not popular?'' I wondered, puzzled by the absence of other patrons. I was tempted to voice these thoughts to Misha, but I hesitated. Inquiring about the apparent lack of customers seemed tactless and potentially uncomfortable. I really did not want to open that can of worms, especially when it appeared that Misha seemed to like my presence here to this degree. ¡®Better to stay in her good graces. I intend on coming back here quite often in the future, so it would be best not to step into an obvious faux-pa,¡¯ I mused. I quietly hoped that Misha hadn¡¯t gone to the extent of closing her shop just to assist me. The idea that my extended shopping might negatively impact her daily business was troubling. I certainly didn¡¯t want to be the cause of any financial setback for her¡ªI wasn''t exactly a big spender by any means. Among the final contenders, the MOD-IK v4 stood out with its specific features. Measuring approximately 35cm diagonally, it was equipped with 8 units of RAM, a heat capacity of 4, and 4 units of storage. These three components were crucial for any deck used in netrunning. The deck''s RAM was a key factor, as it dictated the complexity and reach of a quick-hack. It determined not just the sophistication of the quick-hacks you could use but also the number of objects or systems that could be simultaneously affected by a single one of your quick-hacks. Heat capacity was another one of the critical aspects. In the complex cyber landscape of Neon Dragons, hacking was intensely compute-heavy. The sophisticated nature of Cyber as a language, especially its fourth layer, demanded substantial processing power, turning netrunning into an activity that generated considerable amounts of heat. Lacking sufficient heat capacity or effective heat dissipation, a deck¡ªor gods forbid, the netrunner themselves, especially those reliant on cybernetics alone, that didn¡¯t use decks at all¡ªcould dangerously overheat. In such scenarios, the risk wasn''t just a malfunctioning deck but also the alarming possibility of the user suffering from severe thermal overloads, leading to potential injury, irreparable damage to their cybernetic implants or even death. For my initial foray into netrunning, however, where I planned to use only basic quick-hacks, a heat capacity of at least 4 was more than enough. This minimum threshold would also provide enough leeway to handle more complex hacks in the future without immediate overheating concerns. Storage, on the other hand, was the least critical of a given deck¡¯s attributes for my needs. It primarily affected how many quick-hacks could be loaded on the deck at any given time. Given that I didn¡¯t plan to carry an extensive library of quick-hack subroutines directly on the deck, this feature was of lower priority. My strategy was to store the bulk of them on the SPG-01 Shard as I wrote them, transferring them to the deck as and when needed. Eventually, I planned to invest in external data-shards for additional quick-hack storage, making the onboard storage capacity of the deck less of a concern in the long run overall. I set the MOD-IK aside and turned my attention to the second option before me, the model known as QHD-2IC. Due to its cumbersome name, Misha had informed me that most people simply called it the IC, as its predecessor was discontinued about a decade ago, minimising any chance of confusion. The IC shared the MOD-IK''s 35cm diagonal size, a dimension I had come to prefer after testing numerous decks over the past thirty minutes. However, it differed in its specifications. The IC boasted 7 units of RAM, barely meeting my minimum requirement, but compensated with a substantial heat capacity of 6, albeit offering only 2 units of storage. Apart from these attribute variations, the IC closely resembled the MOD-IK in most other aspects. Both models included a physical wire connection, a feature that provided the versatility for direct interfacing with locked-off systems. They were equipped with all the input/output ports I could foresee needing in both my immediate and foreseeable netrunning endeavours. Moreover, their matte-black exteriors were not just aesthetically pleasing but also practical for remaining stealthy, allowing them to be easily concealed in bags or, if necessary, even within my own clothing. The crux of my decision hinged on a fundamental question: Did I prioritise the quality of my quick-hacks, or their quantity? Pondering over the options, I weighed the pros and cons. ''The MOD-IK offers the capability for more intricate quick-hacks or impacting a larger number of targets simultaneously. On the other hand, the IC, with its superior heat capacity, would let me use quick-hacks more frequently,'' I reasoned, trying to envision my future approach to netrunning. Given my current situation, I doubted that I would initially have access to highly complex quick-hacks, nor did I see myself excessively using them. The IC, sacrificing just a single unit of RAM for a significant boost in heat capacity, however, seemed to offer a better trade-off in terms of critical features. From a value standpoint, it appeared to be the more practical choice. Seeking a second opinion, I turned to Misha. Her response was tentative yet thoughtful, ¡°Ela certainly seems more knowledgeable in this area than Misha... But if Ela is finding it difficult to choose, Misha will do Misha¡¯s best to help!¡± She appeared apologetic, yet earnest in her attempt to assist. ¡°Misha thinks that unless Ela plans to pursue a job as a full-time netrunner soon, the high heat capacity of the IC might be underutilised. However, as a hobbyist, any inefficiency in Ela¡¯s own quick-hack coding might render them more complex, necessitating more RAM. Therefore, Misha would suggest the MOD-IK for its greater RAM capacity. But Misha must emphasise once again that Misha is not an expert in netrunning. Ultimately, the choice is Ela¡¯s.¡± A brief pause followed but I sensed that Misha had more to say. My intuition proved right, but her next words still caught me off guard. ¡°Should Ela later regret Ela¡¯s choice, Misha is willing to exchange the chosen model for the other, asking only a modest fee in return. Perhaps this offer might simplify Ela¡¯s decision-making process?¡± Her suggestion was unexpected, yet it once again underscored her commitment to customer satisfaction. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Overwhelmed with appreciation for the Gryplik¡¯s continuous commitment to making my experience as easy and pleasant as possible, I found myself momentarily lost in the gaze of Misha¡¯s large, red eyes. A thought struck me, ¡®Misha is truly exceptional... It''s astonishing that her store isn''t constantly swarmed with customers snapping up her inventory!¡¯ Determined to honour Misha¡¯s generosity and insightful advice, I carefully placed the IC back into its case and placed it back on the pile of other armoured cases. My decision made, I picked up the MOD-IK along with its case, feeling a sense of resolve. This was the last significant item I needed to complete my initial netrunning setup. Now, it was time to discuss the final details of the purchase. With the MOD-IK in hand, I turned to Misha, ready to finalise my choice. ¡°Ela has decided on the MOD-IK v4. How much will it cost Ela?¡± I asked, prepared for one last round of negotiation, eager to wrap up what had been a thoroughly informative and pleasant shopping experience. As I waited for Misha¡¯s response, she once again began her characteristic muttering in Gryplik, a habit I had come to see as an endearing trait of hers. It was clear to me now that this was Misha''s way of working through her thoughts. ¡°{Hmm, what price is fair for Ela, Misha wonders¡­?}¡± she murmured, her voice a soft hum of contemplation mixed with the typical melodic clicks of the Gryplik language. ¡°{Ela trusts Misha, even though Misha is not an expert in netrunning gear. That¡¯s rare¡­ trust like that is rarely given to one such as Misha. Misha feels a connection with this young human. Ela honoured Misha''s advice not only on the MOD-IK but all the other pieces Misha has sought for Ela as well¡­}¡± I tried to maintain a neutral expression, but inside, I was touched by her words. It was clear that Misha was genuinely considering not just the business aspect but also the budding relationship we were forming. ¡°{Maybe a bit less than the standard price... Yes, that feels right. Ela has shown trust in Misha. Misha should honour that trust,}¡± she continued, her tone reflecting a mix of business acumen and personal regard. Feeling the warmth of Misha''s considerations was both unusual and touching. Yet, as I listened to her mutterings, a pang of guilt washed over me. ''I''m somewhat betraying her trust by keeping my understanding of Gryplik a secret, hearing her private thoughts without her knowledge, am I not?'' I reflected. However, revealing my ability to understand her at this juncture seemed impractical, possibly even damaging to the rapport we had established. Reluctantly, I decided to keep this secret to myself for now, choosing to remain silent and allow Misha to complete her, surprisingly open, thought process. Soon after, Misha turned to me, her expression one of confident generosity. ¡°Misha will offer the MOD-IK v4 to Ela for 163 credits as a token of appreciation for Ela¡¯s substantial amount of purchases today. Misha believes Ela will be pleased with this price.¡± My surprise was evident as I heard the figure she quoted. ''163 credits? That''s incredibly low, easily worth over 200 credits! I was mentally prepared to haggle up to my last credit at 185, yet here she is, offering it for so much less.'' I found myself enveloped in a mix of emotions¡ªdeep appreciation for Misha''s generosity, surprise at the unexpected discount, and a slight apprehension. ''Am I right to accept such a significant reduction? I don''t want to seem like I''m exploiting her kindness.'' Misha''s genuine demeanour and the heartfelt nature of her offer, however, resonated strongly with me. My mind briefly flickered back to Mr. Stirling¡¯s initially well-intended seeming gesture, which had ultimately led to an unpleasant and intimate encounter with NeuroCorpse. ''Surely, accepting Misha''s offer won''t have similar repercussions...?'' Despite my reservations, I recognized the necessity of this deck for my future endeavours. Without any viable alternatives and trusting in Misha''s good faith, I decided to accept her offer. Silently invoking the cybergods for their blessing, I nodded with genuine enthusiasm and expressed my heartfelt gratitude to Misha. ¡°Ela is immensely thankful to Misha! This is an incredibly fair deal. Thanks, Misha! Ela will certainly return for more purchases in the future, to honour this kindness!¡± My words were filled with sincerity and a promise of loyalty, acknowledging the special bond that had formed between us in this short span. Misha''s smile widened, a mix of magnanimity and joy, as she acknowledged my decision. "Misha is pleased to conclude another one of Ela¡¯s requests to Ela¡¯s satisfaction! Is there anything else Ela needs from Misha¡¯s collection?¡± I responded by once again thanking her and denying her question. I had gotten everythingI needed¡ªand more¡ªalready, as my fingers swiftly entered the deck''s details into the Restricted Shard¡¯s interface. Hitting the confirm button, I silently hoped Valeria would understand the importance of this deck. My anxiety was palpable; the uncertainty of whether Valeria was aware of the SPG-01 Shard, previously acquired from Gabriel, added an extra layer of worry. ''I just hope she doesn¡¯t perceive this as throwing her money away¡­ If she doesn¡¯t know about the shard, then it¡¯s likely she¡¯d be very confused about me wanting a deck,'' I pondered, feeling a knot of tension as I awaited the shard''s response. The seconds ticked by more slowly this time, stretching into almost a full minute of anticipation. Finally, the interface chimed back to life with a notification.
[Shard-Lender has approved the transaction of 163 Credits to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± for the purchase of ¡°MOD-IK v4 - Netrunning Deck¡±.]
A wave of relief washed over me as I saw the approval. Without hesitation, I completed the transaction, sending the credits to Misha.
[You have transferred {c}163 to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± account from the Restricted Shard with the note: ¡°Ela deeply appreciates Misha¡¯s exceptional insights and delightful shopping experience. Ela eagerly looks forward to future visits!¡±]
[Restricted Shard Balance Update: {c} 185 -> {c} 22]
As I confirmed the transfer, I felt a sense of accomplishment and gratitude, not only for the equipment I had acquired but also for the bond I had formed with Misha. Her kindness and understanding had transformed a simple transaction into an enriching experience, one that I very much looked forward to revisiting in the future. Misha''s soft, excited mutterings in Gryplik reached my ears as the transaction was confirmed. "{Misha has done it! A happy and content customer who plans to return in the future!}" Her voice held a triumphant note. "{They doubted Misha''s ability to attract customers, but look now! This will show them!}" Hearing her private celebration was utterly charming, and it took every ounce of my willpower to suppress a smile or coo. I could even feel my Ego Attribute working in overdrive to maintain my composure, as I definitely was unable to do so myself. ¡®She¡¯s too damn cute! What the hell?! She looks like something out of a children¡¯s nightmare, yet she¡¯s so damn adorable and nice!¡¯ As Misha turned to face me again, she offered a respectful bow, which I instinctively mirrored. "Misha extends the deepest of thanks for Ela''s business. Misha eagerly anticipates Ela''s future visits for any additional needs or maintenance of Ela¡¯s equipment," she expressed with heartfelt sincerity. I reassured her once more of the excellent service and experience I had at Misha¡¯s Emporium. As she escorted me to the exit, I carried my new gear with a sense of satisfaction and anticipation for its use. Just as the door closed behind me, a sudden, high-pitched shriek pierced the air, startling me momentarily until I realised it was a manifestation of Misha''s joy¡ªa Gryplik''s unique way of expressing delight. ''Too fucking cute,'' I thought, a genuine smile spreading across my face as I navigated my way through the bustling streets of the 31st floor, my thoughts lingering on the exceptional encounter I had just had with Misha.
The successful shopping trip left me with a feeling of unexpected ease, almost too good to be true. It reminded me of the day Mr. Shori had taken me in, a day that had ended with a harrowing experience involving my brother. This memory brought a surge of anxiety, a relic of my past life''s habit of expecting good times to be swiftly followed by bad ones. ''No, Sera, don¡¯t let this happen again,'' I firmly reminded myself, echoing the advice of my therapist. ''Enjoy the good moments as they come. Not every positive experience needs to be shadowed by fear of something bad happening.'' I was determined to stop these negative thoughts before they took root and overshadowed the day''s success. I summoned up the recent memories of the adorable Misha to drown out these self-destructive thoughts. However, as I did so, my mind was quickly occupied by another pressing issue that I had completely forgotten about until now¡ªmy long-overdue haircut. "Damnit!" I muttered under my breath, quickly checking my now-dwindling finances, half-hoping for a miracle increase in my credit balance. With only 22 credits remaining, a professional haircut seemed out of reach, especially given the current state of my hair. But then, an idea struck me. In the game, there were automated styling stations¡ªauto-dressers¡ªthat offered a more affordable alternative to traditional salons. Though they lacked the range of options provided by a professional stylist, they were significantly cheaper. ''There has to be an auto-dresser nearby,'' I reasoned, hopeful. With renewed purpose, I began scouring the area for one of these automated styling kiosks, not ready to give up on tidying up my unruly hair just yet.
About ten minutes into my quest, I stumbled upon exactly what I was looking for¡ªa small kiosk that bore a nostalgic resemblance to the retro-style photo booths of my past life. However, this one was infused with distinct cyberpunk elements. The kiosk was a compact, angular structure, its surface a fusion of sleek metal and neon accents, somewhat dulled by the patina of urban grime that spoke to its frequent use. Futuristic designs etched onto its panels glowed faintly in the dim light, giving it an almost otherworldly allure, despite its clearly run-down nature. I stepped inside, the door hissing shut behind me with a soft pneumatic sound. The interior was surprisingly clean and functional, much unlike the exterior, and was dominated by a large touchscreen interface. As soon as I approached, the screen came to life, scanning me with a soft blue light. It then presented me with an array of hairstyle and colour options. The choices were somewhat limited, lacking the diversity and trendiness of a professional salon, but they were sufficient enough for a basic makeover. I browsed through the options with a tinge of disappointment. ''It''s not ideal, but it''s certainly better than what I''ve got going on now,'' I thought pragmatically. After a few moments of deliberation, I pieced together the best look I could manage from the available selections, settling on a style that was functional yet somewhat stylish. Before confirming my choice, I glanced at the price: A mere 12 credits. A wave of relief washed over me. Even with my constrained budget, this was comfortably affordable. ''Well, that¡¯s one less thing to worry about,'' I thought, content that this small yet essential personal care task could be checked off without breaking the bank. As I finalised my selections on the touchscreen, I initiated the transaction via the Restricted Shard, seeking Valeria''s approval for the expense. After all, it was her credits that I was about to use for this minor personal indulgence. However, almost instantly after submitting my request, the interface flashed back to life with an unexpected response.
[Shard-Lender has declined the transaction of 12 Credits to ¡°Auto-Dresser #331¡± for the ¡°Hair Makeover¡± service. An attached note is available.]
[Displaying Note: ¡°No daughter of mine shall resort to these dreadful machines for grooming. Seek a professional haircut, child. Do not lower yourself to such standards.¡±]
[Restricted Shard Balance Update: {c} 22 -> {c} 122]
I stood there, momentarily stunned by the message and the sudden boost in my credit balance. ''Valeria''s disdain for auto-dressers seems quite intense... More than just a preference, it feels. There''s got to be a deeper reason behind her aversion,'' I pondered, trying to decipher her strong reaction. The added 100 credits were a generous, albeit perplexing gesture. Valeria was typically composed and deliberate in her actions, making this response all the more surprising. To add an extra 100 credits simply because I opted for an automated haircut service seemed a bit extreme. Her reaction definitely hinted at almost personal principles or perhaps a past experience that made her vehemently oppose such trivial conveniences. Whatever the reason, it was clear that Valeria had strong feelings about maintaining certain standards, even in something as mundane as a haircut. Accepting Valeria''s decision with a mix of surprise and understanding, I quietly remarked, ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m definitely not going to defy her on this. The options here are truly dreadful. This ain¡¯t a hill I¡¯m willing to die on, whatsoever.¡± With a few taps, I cancelled the auto-dresser transaction and stepped out of the kiosk, feeling a sense of relief mixed with curiosity. Now that I had the necessary funds for a more upscale haircut¡ªcourtesy of Valeria''s unexpected generosity/trauma¡ªa new question arose. "Alright, where can I find a reputable hair salon around here, then¡­?" I pondered aloud, glancing around. The quest for a professional hairstylist felt like a small adventure in itself, one that I embarked on with an air of anticipation, curious to see what kind of style a professional might suggest for me in this vibrant, cyberpunk world¡­ Chapter 35 - Rare Skills Meandering through the vibrant streets of the 31st floor, I spent the next half hour in search of a hair salon that felt right. Despite the pressing need to visit Mr. Stirling for the debt repayment discussion, my enthusiasm for the impending tasks was notably subdued. My thoughts lingered on the recent events involving Mr. Stirling. His intervention, initially seeming altruistic, had inadvertently led to my encounter with NeuroCorpse. While I recognized that his actions played a crucial role in Gabriel''s survival, thereby creating a legitimate debt, I was taken aback by his haste in calling it in¡ªand through Valeria of all people, no less. It was an important reminder that appearances and first impressions could be very deceiving. ''I need to be more vigilant about the people I associate with, even those who appear friendly and well-meaning. Misha seems trustworthy, her genuine demeanour during our time together was reassuring, but caution is still key,'' I reflected, feeling a twinge of sadness. In my past life, I wasn¡¯t known for being overly suspicious. I had always been one to give people the benefit of the doubt, until proven otherwise, so adapting to this heightened sense of wariness was going to be a challenge. I made a mental note to stay alert, hoping that either my steadily growing Intuition or a newfound cautious mindset would soon become instinctual in navigating this complex world. The old saying, ¡°We¡¯re not in Kansas anymore,¡± echoed in my mind, resonating with my current situation more than ever. It was a poignant reminder that the rules of this world were vastly different than my old one, and adapting to them was going to be essential for my survival and success. As I continued my search and my thoughts shifted to my Intuition Attribute, I realised it was a good time to review the barrage of System Notifications that had been accumulating. These alerts had been popping up throughout my shopping with Misha, and I hadn''t yet had the chance to go through them. Additionally, there were still a host of notifications from my time at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall that needed my attention.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Pondering over the notifications related to my experience gains, I noted, ¡®It¡¯s apparent that the rate of experience acquisition is slowing down with each level. To maintain a steady growth, I might need to find more challenging tasks. But how do I increase the difficulty of my tasks at Mr. Shori¡¯s? It doesn''t seem feasible given the nature of the work there...¡¯ This realisation made me pause, considering the limitations of my current situation at the stall. However, I quickly reminded myself that my work with Mr. Shori served purposes beyond just experience accumulation. So, setting aside these concerns for the moment, I shifted my focus to the notifications from my recent interactions with Misha. It was time to see what progress and insights had been recorded during that engaging experience, and how it might have impacted my attributes and skills in the System.
[System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: Ego Attribute has reached 4. [System]: [Meditation] has reached level 4. [System]: [Appraise] Skill unlocked. [System]: 600xp gained for [Appraise] Skill. [System]: [Negotiation] Skill unlocked. [System]: 400xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Deception] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Tech Attribute.
Upon reviewing my System Notifications, the first thing that struck me was the appearance of [Negotiation] as another Restricted Hybrid Skill. This was intriguing, but [Appraise] really caught my attention as it represented a more complex category of Skills. In the world of Neon Dragons, Skills were categorised into three basic types: Mono-Attribute Skills, Hybrid-Attribute Skills, and Restricted-Hybrid-Attribute Skills. Mono-Attribute Skills were straightforward, being tied to a single attribute. For instance, Skills like [Juggling] and [Throwing] fell under this category, governed exclusively by the Reflex Attribute. Training these Skills simultaneously enhanced the associated Attribute, but the Skill level couldn¡¯t surpass the Attribute level. If my Reflex Attribute was not higher than the Skill level, I couldn¡¯t improve the Skill further. Hybrid-Attribute Skills, the second category, were influenced by two separate Attributes. Skills such as [Meditation], [First-Aid], and [Blades] belonged here. They simultaneously trained both linked Attributes, and their growth was capped by the higher of the two Attributes. So, in my case, [First-Aid] couldn¡¯t progress beyond Level 4, as it was constrained by my Reflex level, which was currently at a 4, while my Intellect was at a 2. The third and final category in the skill taxonomy of Neon Dragons was the Restricted-Hybrid-Skills. This type functioned similarly to Hybrid-Skills but with one significant distinction: The maximum level of the Skill was governed by the lowest of the two linked Attributes, rather than the highest. These Skills were less common compared to the other two types, yet I had already acquired several of them. Prior to [Negotiation], I had unlocked [Splicing], [Contortion], and [Deception]. Taking [Negotiation] as an example, the highest level I could achieve in this Skill would currently be limited to 2, constrained by my Intuition, which was at rank 2, despite my Ego already being higher at rank 4. This lower-bound rule made Restricted-Hybrid-Skills a unique challenge, as they required balancing and enhancing both governing Attributes to progress. Each Skill had been clearly labelled with its specific category in the game, allowing the player to easily differentiate between Mono-Attribute, Hybrid-Attribute, and Restricted-Hybrid- Attribute Skills. Curious to see the full extent of my Skill repertoire, I navigated to the [Skills] tab on my profile. It felt essential, almost therapeutic, to periodically review my entire skill set like this. Keeping track of my capabilities and limitations was not just about staying organised; it was a crucial part of understanding my progress and potential in this new world. ''A girl needs to stay on top of her Skills to keep her edge,'' I thought, a hint of determination coupled with a good dose of mirth, in my mental voice.
[<-- Attributes -->] Body 3: 2,300 / 3,000xp Reflex 4: 300 / 4,000xp Intellect 2: 600 / 2,000xp Intuition 3: 2,300 / 3,000xp Edge 2: 500 / 2,000xp Tech 2: 500 / 2,000xp Ego 4: 200 / 4000xp [<-- Skills -->] [Meditation] Level 4 - 0 / 4,000xp (Intuition/Ego) [First-Aid] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Juggling] Level 3 - 400 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Blades] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body/Reflex) [Throwing] Level 4 - 0 / 4,000xp (Reflex) [Knives] Level 3 - 800 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Programming] Level 2 - 600 / 2,000xp (Intellect) [Netrunning] Level 1 - 200 / 1,000xp (Intellect) [Manifestation] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Intuition) [Cooking] Level 2 - 700 / 2,000xp (Intuition/Tech) [Slicing] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (>Intellect/Reflex<) [Maid] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Body/Intuition) [Stealth] Level 2 - 600 / 2,000xp (Edge) [Athletics] Level 2 - 700 / 2,000xp (Body) [Contortion] Level 0 - 100 / 700xp (>Body/Reflex<) [Acrobatics] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (Body/Edge) [Poison] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Edge/Tech) [Deception] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (>Edge/Ego<) [Appraise] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Intuition/Tech/Intellect<) [Negotiation] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (>Ego/Intuition<)
As I perused my Skill set, I noticed a familiar system of notation, reminiscent of the game. ''The System uses arrows to denote the different types, just like in the game. That''s reassuring,'' I mused, carefully reviewing the status and count of my current Skills across the three categories. ''Let''s see¡­ I currently have 7 Mono-Attribute Skills, 8 Hybrid-Attribute Skills, and 4 Restricted-Hybrid- Attribute Skills. That aligns with the approximate 2/2/1 distribution ratio I recall from the game playthroughs.'' This observation brought a sense of relief. ''It''s very good to know that some aspects remain consistent, despite the addition of several new Skills that were never part of the original game.'' After thoroughly reviewing my other skills, I finally turned towards the elephant in the room and the Skill I hadn¡¯t addressed until now. ''Looks like [Appraise] is my first rare Skill,'' I contemplated, interspersing my thoughts with subconscious murmurs of intrigue. ''Developing this one is going to be very cool, though it is certainly not going to be easy...'' Rare Skills in Neon Dragons stood out for their complexity and difficulty in mastering them. Unlike Basic Skills, which were tied to one or two Attributes, Rare Skills were influenced by three different Attributes. Moreover, like Restricted-Hybrid-Skills, their level was constrained by the lowest of the governing Attributes. This meant I would need to balance and enhance all three related Attributes equally to progress the Skill at all. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. However, the distinct advantage of Rare Skills lay in their capacity to grant active Abilities at specific milestones, each Skill having its own unique intervals. This was, of course, in addition to the usual Perks obtained through the Perk-Tree at every third and tenth level. Active Abilities, however, such as the [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] I had acquired from my Trait choices, provided additional layers of capability and strategic options to me and were definitely something I would have to collect in order to fully take advantage of everything the G.E.M.A System had to offer. The [Appraise] Skill, which was also present in the game, had a specific first Ability I was already familiar with: [Appraisal]. This Ability would be exceptionally useful, allowing me to scan any item and receive a comprehensive overview of its general statistics and attributes. It would also give me an estimate of the item''s potential value, based on my current understanding and knowledge of it. Such an Ability would be incredibly useful for future shopping ventures, and potentially other endeavours as well, making it a priority for me to acquire and develop as quickly as possible. One of the most advantageous aspects of Abilities granted by Rare Skills was their dynamic nature¡ªthey evolved alongside the skill itself. As I continued to progress in levelling up [Appraise], the [Appraisal] Ability would also enhance in effectiveness. This meant that with each level gained in [Appraise], [Appraisal] would provide more detailed and accurate information, even if my personal knowledge of the item remained constant. This scaling feature of the Abilities made Rare Skills particularly attractive, as they offered progressively increasing utility and depth, making them valuable assets in my overall arsenal. Reflecting on my Skill set, I decided, ''It''s time for a dedicated session to unlock as many Skills as I can. I¡¯ll start with the ones I know from the game and then attempt to discover new ones that weren''t part of the original gameplay. This should give me a clearer picture of which activities to prioritise for simultaneous Skill development in the future.'' I earmarked this plan as a key item on my agenda, to be tackled right after addressing Mr. Stirling¡¯s requests. It seemed likely that unlocking new Skills could prove beneficial in crossing off the non-existent names on my list as well. Lost in these thoughts, I suddenly became aware that I had been stationary in front of a store, immersed in my skill and attribute analysis for a good five to ten minutes. To any passerby, I must have appeared utterly oblivious to the world, lost in a trance-like state like a complete lunatic. Regaining focus and reconnecting with my surroundings, I noticed that, almost instinctively, I had wandered to the doorstep of a hair salon. It immediately resonated with me, as if drawing me in. The salon¡¯s aesthetic, ambiance, and perhaps a sense of intuition led me to believe that this was the place where I could get the quality haircut I was now funded for. With this realisation, I shook off the last remnants of my introspection and prepared to step into the salon, ready to transform my appearance with a new style. Stepping through the door of the hair salon, I was immediately enveloped in a world that was both strikingly familiar and unsettlingly foreign. The interior was an eclectic blend of old-world charm and cyberpunk flair, creating a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu tinged with a sharp edge of novelty. The first thing that hit me was the scent¡ªa mix of traditional hair products, the sharp tang of modern chemical treatments, and a faint whiff of ozone, likely from the high-tech equipment tucked away in the corners. The air was thick with the hum of activity, overlaid with the subtle buzz of machinery working in the background. Visually, the salon was a fascinating juxtaposition. Vintage-style barber chairs, upholstered in worn leather, faced large, sleek mirrors rimmed with neon lights that cast a soft glow over the space. Scattered around were high-tech looking styling tools, their holographic interfaces flickering as they laid next to more traditional scissors and combs. The walls were adorned with a mix of old-fashioned framed photos of classic hairstyles and digital displays showcasing the latest in Neo Avalis hair trends. In one corner stood a bulky, antiquated hair washing station, its chrome fixtures dulled with age, contrasting sharply with the nearby high-tech hair drying units that looked like they belonged on a space station. The floor was a chequered pattern of black and white tiles, some cracked and showing signs of age, adding to the overall atmosphere of a place caught between eras. This blend of the past and future gave the salon a unique character, one that felt oddly comforting yet kept me alert and curious. It was as if the salon itself was a microcosm of the world outside, reflecting the dichotomy of tradition and innovation that defined this cyberpunk reality. My contemplation of the salon''s unique atmosphere was quickly disrupted by a warm, welcoming voice emanating from my right. ¡°Hello there, and welcome to Circuit Locks! Feel free to settle into any open chair, and one of our stylists will rock right on over to you to work their magic! And if there¡¯s a particular stylist you¡¯ve got in mind, just give me a shout, and I¡¯ll see what I can do for you!¡± The voice was bright and enthusiastic, infusing the air with an even more inviting vibe. The source of the greeting was a lively attendant, standing behind a retro-futuristic reception desk, which was a blend of sleek metal and vintage wood. His outfit was a mix of classic salon attire with a touch of cyberpunk edge¡ªfunctional yet stylish, fitting seamlessly with the salon''s theme. His friendly demeanour and the ease with which he navigated the space suggested he was very much at home in this environment, a perfect embodiment of the salon''s fusion of old and new. His invitation to relax and await a stylist''s assistance was a comforting start to my experience at Circuit Locks. Not having to fill out anything or explain exactly why I was here to people over and over again, was a welcome change to my previous life¡¯s salon visits. With a nod of understanding and thanks, I moved toward one of the vacant chairs and sat down. Just two minutes later, a stylist approached me, their appearance as unique and striking as the salon itself. They had clearly augmented cybernetic arms, sleek and silver, clearly designed specifically for salon use. As the stylist drew closer, the intricacy of their cybernetic arms became even more apparent. Their left hand had been completely replaced with an array of salon-specific tools, a fascinating and slightly intimidating sight. There were miniature scissors, combs, and other hairdressing implements seamlessly integrated into the cybernetic structure. The tools appeared to be able to rotate and switch out with a fluid, mechanical precision, reminding me vividly of a character straight out of a movie¡ªEdward Scissorhands. The stylist''s arms weren''t just practical either; they were a spectacle in themselves, embodying both the high-tech essence of the cyberpunk world and the creative flair of their profession. The silver limbs glistened under the salon''s neon lights, casting reflections that danced across the walls and ceiling, almost like a disco-ball amidst the most popular of clubs. The stylist''s overall look was a similarly vibrant mix of punk and elegance as well. Their hair was a bold kaleidoscope of colours, styled in an asymmetrical cut that defied gravity. They wore a leather vest over a brightly patterned shirt, and their pants were adorned with patches and pins, each seemingly telling a story. As they approached, their first reaction to my hair was an exaggerated gasp, followed by a playful tsk-tsk sound. "Oh, darling... No, no, no! Just what have we here? This simply will not do! Not at all!" they exclaimed with a flourish, their voice laced with a dramatic tone that was both amusing and endearing. One thing immediately struck me as odd: They seemed to have a strange habit of emphasising random words in sentences, which further added to their eccentric charm and weirdness. Their style was questionable, yet I couldn''t help but feel it was fitting. In my previous life, I had noticed a pattern: The more unconventional and outlandish a hairstylist''s appearance, the more impressive their skills tended to be. This stylist, with their cybernetic enhancements and flamboyant demeanour, seemed to embody that principle to the fullest. "I''m here to rescue you from this hair catastrophe, trust me on that, little lady. You''ll either walk out of this salon a completely new woman, or not at all!" The stylist declared this with a dramatic flair and a confident wink, their left hand clicking the scissors together in a somewhat menacing yet theatrical manner. I was briefly caught off guard, my mind racing to interpret their words. ''Hold on, "or not at all"? Did they just threaten to kill me over my current hair? Seems a bit over the top just for a hairstyle...'' Before I could process it further or voice my thoughts, the stylist swiftly draped a cape over me and spun my chair to face the large mirror. The mirror came alive instantly with a high-tech display, framing my reflection with an array of digital icons and sliders. "Now, let¡¯s see what Zeria can do for you..." they mumbled, their focus intent on the mirror¡¯s interface. Zeria''s fingers danced over the interface with astonishing speed, flipping through countless styles in rapid succession. As each new look flashed onto the mirror, Zeria would critique it under their breath. "No, no, no. Not this one. Too gaudy. She''s too young for that," they would mutter dismissively at one style, before swiftly moving on to the next. Their murmured commentary was a blend of artistic discernment and personal taste, forming a soundtrack to the whirlwind of transformations playing out in the mirror. Occasionally, amidst the flurry of rejections, a style seemed to catch Zeria''s eye. "Maybe," they would hum thoughtfully, and with a flick of their finger, the chosen look would be sent to a folder at the top right corner of the screen. ''Likely a sort of temporary storage for potential choices...'' I guessed, trying to keep up with the dizzying display. The constant, rapid changes in my appearance were mesmerising but also thoroughly overwhelming. After barely a dozen seconds, I found myself having to look away, as the relentless visual parade started to induce a severe headache. It was nothing short of impressive how Zeria could not only endure this visual bombardment but also critically assess and categorise each option with such efficiency and precision. As Zeria finished their rapid-fire assessment, it took them only a few minutes to sort through the myriad of options. Turning back to me with a contemplative look, Zeria inquired, ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve earmarked a few styles that could be a great fit for you. But before diving into those, tell me, do you have any specific preferences or requests that Zeria should take into account, little lady?¡± Eagerly, I responded, having given this much thought, ever since I had first laid eyes upon Sera¡¯s hair. ¡°Yes, I have a clear idea in mind. I¡¯d like my hair to be pitch-black, as dark as possible. I¡¯m partial to a medium-side swept with a shaved side, but I¡¯m flexible with the style as long as there¡¯s some shaved element on at least one of the sides for future cybernetic placement.¡± I began. At some point, I¡¯d likely get some kind of netrunning cybernetic that needed to interface with my head, so it was best to include that right away, rather than having to change my style later on. Naturally, I didn¡¯t just want a boring ol¡¯ black haircut, which I elaborated on further, ¡°And for a splash of colour, I¡¯d like the lower layers of my hair to be cyan. The idea is that when my hair is down, the black conceals the cyan completely, but when styled, the cyan should either blend with the black or stand out as a complete wall, creating a large contrast.¡± Zeria listened intently, their eyes lighting up with understanding and enthusiasm as I outlined my vision. ¡°Ah, a bold and edgy look! I can work with that,¡± they exclaimed, their cybernetic fingers already hovering over the interface, ready to refine the earmarked folder full of styles with my specifications in mind. As I sat in the chair, watching Zeria''s skilled hands at work, my sense of anticipation was palpable. I was more than excited; I was on the cusp of a significant personal transformation. This was not just about a new hairstyle; it was about staking a claim in this world, about making Sera''s life unequivocally my own since arriving in this reality. It was an important moment, a deliberate step away from the original Sera and a way to carve out my own identity. Initially, I had felt a certain trepidation at the thought of altering Sera''s appearance so drastically. But as time had passed, my perspective had shifted. The experiences, the challenges, and the hardships I had endured in her body had granted me a sense of ownership over this life. The recent weeks, with their continued suffering and, most recently, straight up agony, had been distinctly mine, and I felt I had earned the right to express myself within this body and life, starting with this first transformation. So, as Zeria expertly navigated the interface, selecting and discarding options based on my preferences, I felt a growing sense of empowerment. With each tap of Zeria''s fingers on the mirror and each stroke of colour they added to the mirrored Sera¡¯s hair, it was like I was shedding the vestiges of the past and stepping confidently into my own version of Sera''s life¡­ Chapter 36 - New Me As Zeria diligently proceeded with the task at hand, they meticulously reviewed each style from the list they had earmarked earlier. Now, instead of the initial rapid pace, they were taking their time, methodically adjusting each style to align with my preferences using the interactive options and sliders on the mirror. This slower pace allowed me to genuinely appreciate the potential hairstyles. Watching the transformation unfold on the mirror''s reflection, I was pleasantly surprised by Zeria¡¯s keen sense of style. Each look they curated and modified seemed to resonate with my sense of aesthetics. There were moments when I was almost compelled to immediately settle for one of the styles, feeling an instant connection with ¡°this one¡± or ¡°that one.¡± However, I restrained myself, curious to see the full range of possibilities that Zeria had in store. Surprisingly, even when Zeria had modified a style to a point where I thought it looked fantastic, they would often critically assess it and then discard it with a decisive ¡°No, this won¡¯t do,¡± sending it to the digital trash can at the bottom left corner of the mirror interface. Despite my own approval of these styles, I couldn''t quite discern what Zeria saw¡ªor didn''t see¡ªin them. But I chose to trust Zeria¡¯s expertise, their eye for detail that perhaps saw nuances I missed. After all, they were the professional, and their judgement had so far been impressively on point, if the earmarked styles were anything to go by. So instead, I continued to watch in silence, a mix of excitement and admiration growing within me as Zeria worked their magic, transforming the digital reflection into potential versions of the new me. Ten minutes into the session, Zeria leaned back in their chair with a contented hum and a pleased smile. ¡°Well, I think we¡¯ve got it. I¡¯ve narrowed it down to three styles that should suit you perfectly. Now, it¡¯s up to you to make the final call, little lady,¡± they announced. With a graceful motion of their hands, Zeria brought up the three selected styles on the mirror¡¯s screen, arranging them side-by-side for my consideration. ¡°The first option here, on the left, aligns most closely with what you described,¡± Zeria began, enlarging the image for a clearer view. ¡°It¡¯s a medium side-swept style, which can be swept to either the left or right, and features a shaved side on the opposite to complement any future cybernetics you might opt for.¡± As they toggled between the left and right sweep options, I found myself drawn to the left-sided sweep. There wasn¡¯t any specific rationale behind my preference; it just felt right, resonating with me more than its counterpart. Zeria continued, ¡°For the colour scheme, I¡¯ve selected VoniX-black and Skyless-cyan. They''re a bit more pricey, compared to some of the more pedestrian colours, but trust me on this: You will want them. They create a striking contrast that¡¯s truly eye-catching. If it were up to me, I might have thrown in some metallic accents¡ªsomething like Chromatic-silver or Steel Wrought-silver, for an extra flair. But I admire your commitment to the look you envisioned,¡± they elaborated with a nod of appreciation for my choices. Zeria then moved on to present the second style. "This next one is quite the modern twist on a classic¡ªa bowl-cut," they explained. "Now, hear me out. It allows for easy shaving of the sides while the longer hair on top forms the ''bowl,'' completely concealing the shaved areas. It¡¯s a style that offers both coverage and the element of surprise." They displayed a 3D model of the bowl-cut, showing how the top hair would elegantly drape over, hiding the shaved sides. The stylist added, "With the VoniX-black as the primary colour, the Skyless-cyan would peek out enchantingly from the front, almost like a curtain of colour cascading around your face. It''s a statement look that allows the cyan to shine when viewed from the front." For the third option, Zeria unveiled something distinctly different. "This one is a more edgy asymmetrical bob," they said. "One side is cut shorter, almost a buzz, while the other side is kept at a medium length and swept over. It¡¯s a bold, modern look that really frames the face beautifully." Zeria highlighted how the asymmetry of the cut provided a striking balance between the boldness of a shaved side and the softness of the longer hair. "With this style, both the VoniX-black and Skyless-cyan get their moments to shine. The black forms the base while the cyan adds a dynamic edge, visible on the buzzed side and as streaks through the longer section." Each hairstyle presented by Zeria had its unique charm and appeal, fitting within the specifications I had set but also offering a distinct look and feel. The stylist''s expertise in envisaging these styles and explaining their merits made the decision a lot more challenging than expected. My initial inclination had been towards the side-swept style, but upon seeing the asymmetrical bob, particularly with the dynamic interplay of my chosen colours as described by Zeria, I found myself in a quandary. The decision was turning out to be much more challenging than I had anticipated. ¡®It¡¯s a close call between the first and the third option,¡¯ I thought. ¡®But would the asymmetrical bob be too daring for me at this stage? And there¡¯s a risk of standing out more than I¡¯d like, too.¡¯ The immediate visibility of the cyan in the third style posed a concern. If someone, like Valeria, were to take issue with it, I would have no way to conceal the striking cyan. Conversely, the side-swept style offered some discretion. The cyan could remain hidden unless someone saw me straight on. Internally, I was leaning towards the boldness of the asymmetrical bob. It appealed to my sense of style and the persona I was beginning to embrace in this new world. Yet, I had to weigh this against the practicality of my current circumstances. With my self-actualization still a work in progress, and considering the Skills and Attributes I possessed to confidently uphold my choice, the distinctiveness of the bob could potentially draw unwanted attention. It would be far easier to identify someone with a distinctive ¡°VoniX-black and cyan bob¡± than someone with a more subdued ¡°black side-swept style.¡± Despite the prevalence of colourful hairstyles in the cyberpunk landscape of Neo Avalis, vibrant hues in hair still stood out as a notable feature, unlike darker or more muted colours that blended more seamlessly with the surroundings and the general populace. Making a decision that balanced my personal taste with practicality, I leaned towards a safer choice. ¡°I¡¯ll go for the first option, the one with the left-sided sweep. I¡¯m really drawn to the third option too, though. Is there any way you could save it for me, maybe in my client profile or something? I¡¯d love to come back for it in the future,¡± I suggested, eager to secure both styles¡ªone for my immediate makeover and the other as a future possibility. Zeria responded with a knowing, sleek grin. Deftly, they discarded the second option into the digital trash bin on the mirror¡¯s interface and expertly slid the third option into a saved styles folder, accompanied by an encouraging wink. ¡°Of course, little lady. Zeria will keep this bold look safe for the day you¡¯re ready to embrace it properly. For now, let''s focus on giving you the most fabulous side-swept style Neo Avalis has ever witnessed!¡± Their enthusiasm was infectious, and I felt a surge of excitement at their promise. Their gesture of saving the third style felt like a nod to my future self¡ªa self that would, one day, be ready to step into an even bolder identity, free of the shackles of concern and the worries about Valeria¡¯s overbearing presence. But for now, I was content knowing that the style I chose would be crafted by Zeria¡¯s skilled hands, confident that it would be nothing short of remarkable. As Zeria began their work, I settled back, anticipating the transformation that would mark a significant step in my journey in this new world¡­
As Zeria meticulously worked on my hair, time seemed to melt away, leaving me lost in the rhythmic sounds of their tools at work. The gentle clicks and clacks of scissors and various styling devices were almost hypnotic, lulling me into a serene state. Zeria had thoughtfully turned off the mirror''s display, ensuring that the final reveal of my new hairstyle would be a complete surprise. Throughout the session, as Zeria''s skilled hands manoeuvred across my scalp, I found a sense of comfort and relaxation in the sensation¡ªsomething I hadn''t experienced in a long while. It had been ages since my last visit to a salon in my previous life, and I had almost forgotten how calming and therapeutic a professional hair treatment could be. My mind wandered during the process, drifting through thoughts of the past few weeks, snippets of the few, clearer memories from my old life, and contemplations about my future as Sera. It was a peaceful introspection, a rare moment of quiet in the midst of so much change. Finally, however, Zeria leaned back, their work complete, and let out a satisfied sigh. ¡°You¡¯re all done, little lady. Ready to see the new you?¡± their voice pulled me back to reality. I felt a rush of nervous excitement at the thought of the reveal. My voice seemed to have momentarily deserted me in anticipation, so I simply nodded in response, my heart racing with a mix of eagerness and anxiety for the big reveal. Zeria seemed to understand the significance of the moment, deliberately taking their time to reactivate the mirror. The salon had incorporated a dramatic reveal feature into its mirrors, causing the image to gradually materialise from bottom to top. This function, designed to heighten the anticipation of the big reveal, certainly achieved its purpose, though it added to my growing impatience. As the mirror slowly came to life, revealing my transformed appearance, I found myself momentarily speechless. ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± was all that managed to escape my lips. I had never seen myself as particularly attractive. Sure, my grandmother had always insisted on my cuteness, but grandmothers are supposed to say such things. Now, confronted with my reflection, sporting the side-swept hairstyle I had always envisioned but never dared to try, I was taken aback. For perhaps the first time, I genuinely felt pretty. It was a continuation of the transformation I had begun to feel in the dress from the previous day''s dinner, but this was more profound, more personal. Tears welled up as I gazed at my reflection, overwhelmed by the crystallising realisation that who I was observing in the mirror was myself. ''Is that really me¡­?'' I questioned internally, struggling to reconcile this image with my own self-perception. Throughout this emotional moment, Zeria remained a comforting presence at my side, silent yet attentive, respecting the intimacy of my reaction. Their professionalism and empathy were evident; they understood the deep impact such transformations could have. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. They weren¡¯t just hair stylists¡ªthey were artisans who played a pivotal role in shaping people''s identities and self-expression. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful for Zeria¡¯s skill and sensitivity, which had allowed me to see myself in a new, empowering light. As I composed myself, taking deep, steadying breaths, I turned to Zeria with heartfelt gratitude. ¡°Thank you so much. This is perfect. It¡¯s everything I wanted and more,¡± I expressed, truly appreciative of their skill and understanding. Zeria replied with casual confidence, accompanied by their signature wink. ¡°Of course. What else would you expect from a professional?¡± they quipped. They then proceeded to remove the cape that had shielded me from the fallen hair and swivelled my chair back to face the salon. To my surprise, Zeria handed me a sleek, black opaque bag. Seeing my puzzled expression, they quickly clarified, ¡°It¡¯s your hair.¡± My confusion only deepened, prompting them to explain further. ¡°Natural hair has its value, you see. Some salons might not be so forthcoming and keep it, but here at Circuit Locks, we believe in professionalism and transparency. We collect it as we work and give it to you afterward. You should have complete control over what happens to your natural hair.¡± This practice was new to me; I had never encountered such a thing in the playthroughs I had watched of Neon Dragons. It likely wasn¡¯t a game mechanic but a detail mentioned in some obscure lore item hidden within the game. ¡°I need to inform you that you have the option to sell your hair to us,¡± Zeria continued, their tone shifting to a more formal, rehearsed speech. ¡°We use natural hair for various purposes, like natural hair implants and specific cybernetics. After we acquire it, your hair is processed anonymously, with no link back to you. We can offer a discount on your current service based on the quality of your hair or pay you in credits.¡± Zeria''s voice was professional, devoid of the earlier warmth, clearly a part of the job they had done countless times before. I was almost about to immediately agree, but held myself back, as a certain pain-tinged memory came sweeping in. The last time I had acted impulsively, it led to unforeseen complications. The memory of that incident urged extreme caution. ''Is it really a good idea to give away my hair to people I hardly know?'' I pondered internally, gently weighing the bag in my hands. ''Even though they assure anonymity and no traceability, can I be certain of that fact? Zeria seems trustworthy, but it''s unlikely they''re directly involved in the hair processing.'' My thoughts circled around the potential risks and benefits. ''What would be the downside of keeping my hair? Aside from missing out on a discount, which doesn¡¯t affect me directly since Valeria is covering the costs, there seems to be no immediate benefit to me.'' The idea of converting my hair into credits, however, presented a tantalising opportunity. It was a way to extract some value from the Restricted Shard indirectly. I decided it was best to gather more information before making a final decision. ''Understanding the actual value of my hair would certainly help in deciding,'' I concluded. Turning to Zeria, I asked, ¡°Could you tell me how much my hair would be valued at if I chose to have it paid out in credits instead of a discount?¡± My tone was inquisitive but cautious. I was learning the importance of prudence in this new world, taking each step with a bit more consideration than before. Zeria paused thoughtfully before responding, ¡°Given the superior quality of your hair, which is notably above what we usually see here, and considering the amount, I''d estimate you could fetch around 30-40 credits for it. I don''t handle the buying personally, so there might be a slight variance, but that estimate should be close to the mark, based on my experience.¡± The amount was significantly higher than I had expected. Even the lower estimate of 30 credits was equivalent to what I would earn from several days of work at Mr. Shori¡¯s. It was a considerable sum for just a portion of my natural hair. ''But do I really need the extra credits right now?'' I pondered as Zeria guided me towards the reception area. ''Apart from Gabriel''s debt repayment, I''ve pretty much acquired all I needed today. An additional 30-40 credits wouldn¡¯t necessarily enable anything new at the moment.'' These thoughts occupied my mind until the enthusiastic receptionist''s comment pulled me back to the present. ¡°My goodness, what a stunning transformation! I barely recognized you! Zeria, you¡¯ve outdone yourself again. Truly fantastic work!¡± the receptionist exclaimed, his bright smile snapping me out of my musings. ¡°Now, let''s get you all checked out and on your way,¡± he suggested with infectious energy. As Zeria and the receptionist exchanged information¡ªtheir eyes briefly flashing yellow in a silent exchange of data¡ªthe receptionist then engaged his own cerebral interface, indicated by the neon-blue glow in his eyes. Zeria, ready to depart, addressed me one last time. ¡°Well, it''s time for me to move on to the next masterpiece. Remember, you''re welcome back anytime, whether it''s for a touch-up or when you''re ready to try that other style we saved for you. Enjoy your new self, little lady,¡± Zeria said with a casual ease, waving goodbye with their scissor-hand before I could respond. As I waited, the receptionist completed his calculations and then addressed me, ¡°Your haircut will be 106 credits as is. Alternatively, it''s 59 credits if you''d like to trade in your natural hair for a discount. Or, we can offer you 32 credits if you prefer to sell your hair to us directly.¡± I promptly input this information into the Restricted Shard¡¯s interface, still inserted in my neck-slot. To my relief, Valeria was quick to respond, as the interface immediately displayed her approval.
[Shard-Lender has approved the transaction of 106 Credits to ¡°Circuit Locks¡± for ¡°Medium Side-Swept with Dual-Colour¡±. An attached note is available.] [Displaying Note: ¡°This is more the type of style I would expect from a daughter of mine.¡±]
I couldn''t help but feel a sense of validation reading the note. ¡®Valeria approves of my hairstyle choice?!¡¯ I thought, a hint of elation and pride in my decision echoing in my mind. ¡®Choosing black as the primary colour was definitely a wise move. It seems mirroring Valeria''s hair colour was a success!¡¯ With the recent painful memories still fresh in my mind, it was relieving to know that Valeria seemed to approve of my choices. Staying in her good graces was definitely something I¡¯d have to pay close attention to, until I was strong enough to handle this world on my own. I completed the credit transfer and then politely declined their offer for my hair, ¡°Thank you, but I''ll keep the hair. I appreciate everything today!¡±
[You have transferred {c}106 to ¡°Circuit Locks¡± account from the Restricted Shard.]
¡°Absolutely! Feel free to visit us again for any future hair needs. Have a chrometastic day!¡± The receptionist¡¯s enthusiastic farewell, however, made me inwardly cringe. The word ''chrometastic¡¯¡ªa phrase popular in Neo Avalis, specifically due to its frequent use by the news anchors¡ªhad always felt forced to me, a far cry from the slang in the Cyberpunk-series of games in my previous life. That slang had only been integrated into Neon Dragons around three to four years before its release, according to developer interviews. It seemed I¡¯d have to endure this early- development jargon for a while longer. ¡®Why couldn¡¯t they have just used something cool like ¡°preem¡± from the start?¡¯ I mused, longing for a touch of the familiar as I stepped out of Circuit Locks, feeling a mix of contentment from my new look and a slight annoyance at the local vernacular.
Stepping back onto the bustling streets of the 31st floor, I quickly accessed my cerebral interface to check the time. ''Wow, it''s already 5pm?! I hope Mr. Stirling is still available for a meeting,'' I pondered, retrieving his contact details from the information Valeria had provided. With the weight of the debt hanging over me, I knew it was time to confront the responsibility I had inadvertently taken on. I drafted a message to Mr. Stirling, opting for a straightforward and respectful tone to avoid any unintended offence.
[Mr. Stirling, this is Seraphine Vildea. Are you available at the moment to discuss the matter of the debt repayment for your earlier assistance this week?]
His response was prompt and to the point.
[Yes. Come to: (Floor 43, Room 43314).]
Curiously, he had included a map link to the location, which I found slightly redundant since it was on my own floor. ''Perhaps he''s just thorough in his communications, or it''s a standard practice for him to include all the information another party might need,'' I mused. Resigned to the task at hand, I let out a heavy sigh. The idea of repaying this debt, with its unknown implications, weighed on me. Nonetheless, I began making my way back to the restricted elevator from which I had arrived. As I walked, I decided to quickly prepare the RaZ Mk.2 for future use. Pulling it out and looking at it intently, I activated my [Sharpen] Perk, feeling a subtle change in the knife¡¯s weight as its edge was honed to perfection. Observing the durasteel blade react to my ability was fascinating. The extremely resilient durasteel seemed to literally vanish without a trace under the influence of my power. ''This is a downright godly power,'' I thought, impressed. ''How does the G.E.M.A. System accomplish this, anyway? And where does the material go? There''s no residue, no smoke... It can''t just be destroying it, can it..? Antoine Lavoisier would be rolling in his grave if that was true!'' I chuckled to myself, contemplating the intriguing physics of the System¡¯s strange Perks and Abilities on my way to the elevator.
As I approached room 43314, the door slid open with the characteristic swish of Mega Building Delta''s auto doors, a sound I had long since grown accustomed to in this building. Mr. Stirling''s towering figure greeted me, his chrome arms folded over his chest, casting an imposing silhouette. A hint of surprise flickered in his eyes before he commented, ¡°You¡¯ve changed, girl. Hope that scary woman hasn¡¯t influenced you too much. Your new hairstyle suits you, though. Just don¡¯t let her push you around, alright?¡± His vague reference left me a bit puzzled. Was he talking about Valeria? I wondered what he meant by his cautionary words. ''Is he implying that Valeria forced me to get this haircut or something?'' I thought, slightly perplexed by his assumption. I stepped past Mr. Stirling into his apartment, immediately noticing its stark contrast to our own. Instead of a kitchen by the entrance, I found a makeshift home gym, complete with various weights and workout equipment. It was clear that a kitchen wasn''t a priority in his space. Moving further in, the living room came into view. Unlike the minimalistic approach of the Vildea family, Mr. Stirling had invested in creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. The room was filled with a harmonious arrangement of chairs, couches, and a large dining table, all revolving around a stylish coffee table set before an imposingly sizable TV¡ªa fitting image for the similarly imposing man himself. What caught my attention, though, were two particular cabinets against the wall. One was stocked with a wide array of beverages, likely alcoholic. The other, a heavy, reinforced metal cabinet, was securely locked and shuttered. ''Could it be housing weapons or maybe something even more secretive¡­?'' I pondered. Mr. Stirling gestured for me to sit in a chair opposite him as he settled onto a large red-leather couch. As I took my seat, ready to discuss the debt repayment, I couldn''t help but be curious about what lay within that locked cabinet, despite the obvious attempts at making sure nobody would be able to take a look inside on Mr. Stirling¡¯s part. His gaze scanned my attire with a discerning eye, as he began, ¡°You appear quite a lot more capable than I anticipated,¡± he noted, focusing on my gear. ¡°A Pseudo-Tier-1 jacket and scarf, and a concealed Tier-1 knife. Quite a formidable setup for someone your age. I must say, I''m positively impressed.¡± His accurate and swift assessment of my equipment, especially the well-concealed knife, caught me off guard. I had taken care to hide it beneath my jacket and undershirt, securely tucked into my waistband, yet he had identified it effortlessly. ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised, kid,¡± he said, observing my reaction. ¡°Part of my job is to notice these details.¡± He leaned back, his tone taking a serious turn. ¡°Originally, I had hoped Valeria would assist me with a particular task. However, she¡¯s unwilling, and instead she suggests you could step in. I know, and she knows, that¡¯s not exactly feasible... That woman is so fucking irritating...¡± He paused, taking a deep breath to compose himself. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal: I¡¯ll have you run a few errands instead, and we''ll consider your debt settled. These tasks shouldn''t be too risky, but don''t get complacent. Working for me means you''ll be venturing into Ether Labs'' and other corporate territories. Tread carefully. Corporate security is unforgiving, and they won¡¯t hesitate to eliminate perceived threats, or worse. While I won¡¯t knowingly send you into harm¡¯s way, my work often treads a fine line, and you''ll need to as well.¡± His words were laced with a stern warning, making it clear that the tasks ahead were far from trivial and carried real risks. Unlike the errand for Mr. Shori, which had only seen a bit of danger due to a misfortunate timing, this arrangement seemed fraught with potential complications. Subconsciously, my hand gravitated to the concealed knife, seeking a sense of security. Steadying myself, I met Mr. Stirling¡¯s gaze with determination, knowing that there was no real way out of this and I needed to persevere. ¡°I understand, Mr. Stirling. I¡¯m ready to take on the tasks you have for me. I¡¯m here to fulfil my obligation and repay the debt. What do you need from me?¡± My voice was firm, reflecting my resolve to start taking this world a bit more seriously and take on the requests he was about to outline¡­ Chapter 37 - Mr. Stirling鈥檚 Task Without any delay, Mr. Stirling delved straight into explaining the nature of the task he had in mind for me. His tone was matter-of-fact as he outlined his role. ¡°I function as a sort of, let¡¯s say¡­ external contractor for Ether Labs. My responsibilities include ensuring smooth operations and managing damage control when things don¡¯t happen to go as smoothly. A key aspect of my job is to safeguard the company''s secrets and patents from their competitors. It''s in this capacity that I will need your help.¡± As he spoke, I noticed a transmission request pop up from him. Consistent with what I had observed with Valeria, Mr. Stirling¡¯s eyes revealed no hint of a colour change, a subtlety I had come to associate with interactions involving their advanced cybernetics and implants. ¡®Is this a unique feature of Ether Labs technology, or just a trait of high-end implants?¡¯ I pondered, still curious about the specifics of such tech, as I accepted the data transfer. Immediately, my cerebral interface was inundated with information¡ªdetailed maps, notes, and documents seamlessly organising themselves into designated folders for later review. The efficiency and thoroughness of the data dump were impressive, providing me with a comprehensive overview of the task at hand and indicating the level of professionalism and seriousness with which Mr. Stirling approached his work. "These maps are your guide for where I need you and what to be on the lookout for," Mr. Stirling began, pointing to the detailed information that had just been transferred to my interface. "Your task is straightforward: I need you to retrieve data from my contacts within our competitors'' circles. There are four drop-off points in total that you''ll be responsible for. I''ve chosen this task as it''s the least dangerous option available, but heed my previous cautions: ''Least dangerous'' does not equate to ''safe.'' He paused for a moment, his expression turning a tad more serious. ¡°While that irritating woman would undoubtedly be a thorn in my side if anything were to happen to you, understand that your safety is ultimately in your own hands. If something goes wrong, it¡¯s not on me. Sure, I¡¯d feel remorseful, but remember, it was her decision to not assist me directly that puts you in this position,¡± he added with a slight edge to his voice. His words served as a stark reminder of the reality of the situation I was in. The task, while seemingly simple, carried inherent risks. It was clear that while he might express regret to put me up to this task, he saw this mission as a necessary means to an end, and the responsibility for my well-being lay primarily with me and my own capabilities. Mr. Stirling nodded as he continued to brief me on the details of the task. "I''ll allocate only one drop-off point per day to manage the workload. It''s important that you take your time and approach this methodically. Avoid taking unnecessary risks," he advised with a tone of seriousness. "Your first objective is located on the 62nd floor, which is entirely under the control of Falkum Industries, one of Ether Labs'' key competitors. In order to do that, you will need this," he paused, reaching into the sleeveless vest he wore loosely, and retrieved a small data-shard. He held it up for emphasis. "This is an access shard. It''s essential for entry, as the restricted elevators won''t allow you access to that floor without it. Ensure it''s properly slotted before you try, otherwise you will be locked out. This shard is only valid for a single day, which is tomorrow. It''s crucial that you complete the data retrieval by the end of the day. Getting these shards isn''t easy; they''re quite rare and hard to come by, so there''s no room for errors. Do you have any questions, or is everything clear to you?" His instructions were clear and his expectations straightforward, unlike a certain mother¡¯s. The urgency and importance of the task were similarly evident in his demeanour, as were the potential risks that I was taking on. There was nothing immediately apparent that required double-checking, but I decided to take a second to properly think it through. ''Reach the restricted floor, make contact or retrieve the data¡ªseems straightforward enough. With my new gear and knife for defence, I have some level of protection. Sure, I''m not cut out for intense combat, especially against well-trained corporate agents, but with [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] and the surprise factor, I might just manage to extricate myself from a dicey situation involving a single adversary... Is there anything else I need to consider here?¡¯ I pondered, ensuring I hadn''t overlooked any crucial details. Yet, after much thought, only a couple of pressing questions came to mind. ¡°So, once I''ve secured the data, what''s the next step? Should I bring it directly back to you, or is there another procedure? Any particular drop-off points or similar?¡± I asked. It was essential to clarify the endgame of this operation, especially since carrying sensitive information could be risky. Mr. Stirling¡¯s reaction was immediate and somewhat comical. There was a loud slap as he facepalmed with his chrome-coated hands, a gesture that echoed his oversight. ¡°Oh, of course! That part slipped my mind,¡± he admitted with a chuckle. ¡°I''m used to handling these operations solo, so a drop-off point never even crossed my mind... Just bring the data back here, honestly. This floor is under Ether Labs'' control, so our competitors shouldn¡¯t be able to follow you without an access shard. They can¡¯t get in here easily.¡± He laughed lightly, adding a bit of levity to the conversation, ¡°And hey, if they do manage to get past the basic security, well, that¡¯s a problem I¡¯ll have to deal with either way. In fact, it might even be preferable if they come straight to me...¡± His casual confidence in handling such a scenario reassured me that, at the very least, the end part of this task was in capable hands. With a growing sense of confidence, I prepared to ask my next question, aware that it might be a bit bold, but feeling reassured by Mr. Stirling''s demeanour thus far. He hadn¡¯t given the impression of someone who would take offence easily. My decision to proceed with it was also influenced by the likelihood of gaining some valuable [Negotiation] experience from this interaction as well. ¡°Given the significant risks involved in these tasks, which you''ve acknowledged already, I was wondering if there might be any form of reward for my efforts? I completely understand that I''m undertaking this to offset a debt, but it seems to me that my assistance will also enable you to focus on other pressing matters at the same time. Wouldn''t my involvement in these tasks bring some additional value that might be worth compensating me for?¡± I asked, trying to strike a balance between respectfulness and assertiveness. My question was genuine, reflecting both my understanding of the risks and the potential value I was adding to his operations. It was an attempt to negotiate not just as someone repaying a debt, but also as an individual contributing significantly to his endeavours. While I was primarily doing this to follow Valeria''s directives, to not fall into her bad graces again, I also wanted to earn some kind of personal advantage from it. If I only played to her tune, and her tune exclusively, it was unlikely I would be able to amass the level of influence and capital that I was likely going to need in the future. As I finished my query, a tense silence fell over the room. Mr. Stirling¡¯s face was unreadable, causing a surge of anxiety within me. Was my question too much? Did I overstep my boundaries? These thoughts raced through my mind, but my Ego Attribute seemed to bolster my resolve, helping me maintain a stoic and impassive demeanour despite the rising unease. After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, Mr. Stirling¡¯s expression shifted. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he muttered, "That damn irritating woman really is teaching them everything she knows, huh?" It was unclear whether he was amused or exasperated, perhaps a bit of both. Finally, his gaze met mine, a hint of respect flickering in his eyes. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give you this: You¡¯ve got some fucking guts to ask this. So sure, I¡¯ll pay you for your efforts. It won¡¯t be the full rate, considering you''re working off a debt, but I recognize the value you''re bringing to the table. Don¡¯t let anyone say I am not generous to the people that help me out,¡± he conceded. His response was a relief, not just for the prospect of some compensation but also for the acknowledgment of my contributions beyond mere debt repayment. It was clear that Mr. Stirling, while stern, was fair in his dealings. The fact that he was willing to offer some form of payment, despite the circumstances, spoke to a certain pragmatism and perhaps an underlying sense of fairness. It was a small victory, but one that made me feel more like an active participant in this arrangement rather than just a debtor fulfilling an obligation that wasn''t actually fully mine to fulfill to begin with. Expressing my gratitude, I responded with a modest nod of my head, "Thank you for your understanding and generosity, Mr. Stirling. I truly appreciate it." I knew the importance of humility, especially after making such a forthright request. It was crucial to maintain a balance of assertiveness and respect in these interactions. Mr. Stirling and I briefly exchanged a few more words about the specifics of the mission, finalising the details. Then, somewhat abruptly, he led me to his doorstep, indicating that our meeting had come to an end. "You now have all the necessary information to successfully complete your first assignment. I expect to see you after its completion tomorrow. And remember," he added with a stern look, "stay vigilant and don''t make any stupid mistakes." His parting words carried a weight of expectation and a reminder of the seriousness of the task ahead. Stepping out from his doorstep, I felt a mix of determination and caution. Mr. Stirling''s trust, albeit born from necessity, was something I didn''t intend to take lightly. As I strolled back towards my family''s apartment, lost in thought, I couldn''t help but reconsider my initial impressions of Mr. Stirling. ''He''s proving to be quite the upstanding individual, much to my surprise. Given his indirect involvement with the NeuroCorpse incident, I wasn''t sure what to expect¡­ But hearing his perspective has definitely shed some light on the situation. It seems the real issue here is Valeria''s strangely rigid stance on the debt and her unwillingness to help Mr. Stirling, not his actions in specific,'' I reflected. ''Maintaining a good relationship with him might be a good idea. He strikes me as someone you would definitely want to be able to call upon, if things go south.'' As I continued my walk, I instinctively brought up the G.E.M.A. System¡¯s notifications to review my recent gains. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
[System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill.
''Definitely no monumental gains, but every little step helps to move towards the right direction. And it looks like my [Negotiation] Skill is edging closer to Level 1, too. I''m curious to see what insights it will unlock. I¡¯ve never been particularly good at negotiations, so I¡¯m eager to see what kind of knowledge I¡¯ll get,'' I thought. With these reflections, my attention then shifted to the most pressing matter at hand ¨C the conspicuous, blinking [Task] notification that awaited my attention.
[Task Accepted: Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request] [Description: Collect the data for Mr. Stirling across several days. 0/4 Data Collected.] [Reward: 200 Character Experience + 1 Perk Point]
[Task Accepted: Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (First Data Collection)] [Description: Collect and deliver the data to Mr. Stirling from floor 62 of the Delta Mega Building. 0/1 Data Collected. Time Limit: 33:04:13.] [Reward: 100 Character Experience + 1 Skill Point]
The sight of two distinct tasks displayed on my interface caused my eyes to widen in surprise. ''Separate assignments for each data collection, with individual rewards?! This is insane!'' I thought, my excitement barely able to be contained at the realisation of the potential benefits this arrangement could offer. The prospect of receiving such substantial rewards for each task set my mind racing with possibilities. ''Could it be that the system will grant me a Skill Point for each data collection? There¡¯s no way, right?! Or might the rewards vary with each new task¡­?'' I pondered, my thoughts tumbling over each other as I considered the implications of either scenario. Previously, I had utilised the free Skill Point I had gotten from Mr. Shori¡¯s request to enhance one of my higher-level skills, maximising the experience gained. However, since that decision, I had spent considerable time reevaluating my approach to managing Skill Points in the future. I had devised a new strategy, one that I believed would be more effective in the long run and was keen to put into practice. This unexpected development offered a perfect opportunity to test my revised approach to skill management. I had decided to prioritise those Skills that were notoriously difficult to level up, first. Among these, one skill stood out as the most deserving of immediate attention, whenever I got access to any Skill Points at all: [Appraise]. [Appraise] was not just any skill, after all; it was my first and only Rare Skill at the moment. Its importance in my skill set was undeniable, making it the obvious choice for the Skill Point I would earn upon completing this Task. Although I could only elevate it to Level 2 at maximum for the time being, due to my current Tech and Intellect Attribute levels, even unlocking the first level was a significant milestone. It would grant me the [Appraisal] Ability, assuming the system here followed the same rules as in the game. The [Appraisal] Ability promised to be a transformative tool for my endeavours, particularly for future shopping and negotiating scenarios. It would enable me to assess items and equipment with a level of detail and accuracy that was previously vastly beyond my reach. But now, with the promise of at least one Skill Point and the potential for up to four of them, I would be able to rapidly accelerate my progress towards it and other, similarly important Skills. A quiet exclamation of joy escaped my lips, "Fuck yes! This is fucking amazing!" as I neared our apartment''s door. Upon reaching the entrance, I effortlessly scanned my biometrics, allowing for smooth access into the safety of our home. The thrill of anticipating the numerous rewards awaiting me over the next few days was exhilarating. It wasn''t just excitement; it was a surge of pure elation. This feeling was so intense that it propelled me into immediate action. I wasted no time in safely storing my newly acquired equipment and swiftly changing into my regular workout gear. With a renewed sense of purpose, I stepped out of the apartment once more, my mind set on further [Athletics] training. The idea of potentially advancing another level in my Skills was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially considering the troublesome Tasks that I would have to complete starting tomorrow. ''Every little bit of effort counts, and right now, capitalising on this momentum is key,'' I thought to myself, already planning the training regimen that would best enhance my physical Skills and Attributes over the next few days. I needed every little speck of help I could get, if I intended to not get into trouble during Mr. Stirling¡¯s tasks. Further levelling up my [Stealth] and [Athletics] Skills seemed like the first, best and biggest steps towards this goal¡­
Midway through my regular running routine, the reality of my over-enthusiasm hit me hard. I hadn''t allowed myself any rest since my last workout, and now my muscles were protesting vehemently, urging me to halt my exertions. "Ouch, ouch, ouch..." I grumbled under my breath, significantly slowing my pace as I made my way back to the apartment. My eagerness to capitalise on the momentum from the [Task] rewards had led me to push my physical limits too far, too fast. The absence of my usual Rest using the Rest Function after my shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s was a stark reminder of the need for balance in training. Without it, I was just as susceptible to muscle fatigue and overexertion as anyone else. The Rest Function usually enabled me to train relentlessly every day without concern for physical strain. But, having been busy with Mr. Shori''s stall, immediately followed by the shopping trip, and without a recent Rest, I was feeling the full brunt of human physical limitations. Upon returning home once again, I decided that a quick shower and some rest were in order. There were still a few hours to go before Gabriel or Oliver would be back, giving me ample time to work on some other important Skills. Gabriel, I recalled, was likely still working off the mandatory overtime he had accrued following his near-death experience a few days ago. As such, I settled into my bed and I reached for the SPG-01 shard tucked beneath my pillow, intending to dive into the private cyberspace it offered in order to continue my [Programming] and [Netrunning] training. Now that I had a proper deck, I needed to get started on my [Quick-Hacks] earlier rather than later. In the midst of preparing for a dive into the digital world, I had an important realisation: I had yet to inform Valeria about my assignment from Mr. Stirling, which had momentarily slipped my mind. Promptly, I exchanged the Restricted Shard with the SPG-01, placing the red shard on my nightstand. I then quickly composed a detailed message to Valeria, outlining the specifics of Mr. Stirling''s request. ''I can''t believe I almost forgot to update her. Given her insistence on being informed about every aspect of Mr. Stirling''s demands, overlooking this could have had dire consequences,'' I thought, a chill running down my spine at the potential repercussions. After the events of yesterday, the last thing I wanted was to ruffle Valeria''s feathers. With the message sent and a weight lifted off my shoulders, I finally allowed myself to relax in bed. The soothing effects of the earlier hot shower, combined with the chance to rest my weary muscles, brought an involuntary sigh of relief. The comfort was tangible, a much-needed respite after the day¡¯s myriad activities. Now, with the SPG-01 shard in place, I was ready to delve back into its cyberspace. It was time to continue my training as an aspiring netrunner under the guidance of Kill Joy¡¯s digital-ego¡­
The remainder of my evening passed in a blur, fueled by intense focus and determination as I delved deep into my [Programming] and [Netrunning] studies. With the deck now in my possession, it was imperative that I quickly advanced to the [Quick-Hacks] section of the guide. Without this knowledge, the deck would be underutilised¡ªmerely a sophisticated and very expensive dust-gathering tool. While I had a general understanding of quick-hacks and their functionality, the nitty-gritty of coding my own subroutines and effectively deploying them in netrunning scenarios eluded me still. At this stage, any attempt to use quick-hacks would necessitate sourcing subroutines externally¡ªa challenging prospect given my limited finances and the lack of connections in the netrunning community. This only added to my urgency to learn and master these Skills independently. There was no way I could get all the subroutines I wanted with any real urgency considering my current income and connections. Later that night, Oliver and Gabriel returned home, both visibly drained and not in the mood for conversation. Gabriel, in particular, was visibly spent. He practically inhaled his dinner¡ªone of my self-made ramen-style soups from Mr. Shori¡¯s place, which I continued to bring home almost every day¡ªbefore crashing into his bed. Watching Gabriel succumb to exhaustion, I felt a surge of empathy for him. ''He must be utterly dead... To work a gruelling 16-hour shift after the trauma he experienced recently, and still grappling with residual muscle and phantom pains from last night... I can¡¯t even imagine,'' I reflected somberly as I observed him slump into his cot. Oliver, too, was visibly worn out. The ongoing issues at his workplace seemed unrelenting, and with the official investigations into the death of the corporate netrunner underway, it was likely his late arrivals would become a routine occurrence as well. With both my ¡°roommates¡± in need of rest, I dedicated the remainder of my evening to further training with the SPG-01 shard. It was crucial to sharpen my Skills, particularly in light of the upcoming task Mr. Stirling had assigned to me. As such, my day ended with some additional SPG-01 training, before I clocked out for the night myself. I needed the Rest Function to rejuvenate me for the following day. There was no question of facing Mr. Stirling¡¯s assignment without being at my absolute best. Before initiating the Rest Function, I took a moment to review the progress I had made in the recent hours. It was a habit of mine to check my gains at the end of the day, a small ritual that helped me keep track of my development and growth.
[System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: 200xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: 500xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
As I reviewed my profile, a mix of determination and concern washed over me. ''It''s decent progress, but not quite where I need to be. The rate at which I''m gaining experience needs to be faster. The amount of bullshit happening around me seems to be accelerating, and I can''t afford to lag behind like this. I initially planned to focus on steadily improving my Skills and Attributes, yet here I am, suddenly entangled in corporate espionage in a fucking cyberpunk world. If this situation doesn''t scream "trouble ahead," I don''t know what does,'' I pondered with a growing sense of urgency. Despite these challenges, however, there was still a silver lining. ''Tomorrow¡¯s morning routine should bump my Body up to a 4. That¡¯s a significant step forward, pushing me above the average in terms of physical prowess. Given the short timeframe and the circumstances I''m dealing with, this is probably the best immediate improvement I can hope for...'' This thought provided a small comfort, a reminder that while the situation was intense and demanding, I was still making tangible progress¡ªfar faster than I had any right to, considering I had just awoken from a coma mere weeks ago. With these reflections in the back of my mind, I punched in the customary 8 hours for the Rest Function and hit confirm¡­ Chapter 38 - Entangling Web The next morning unfolded at an energetic pace, as I dove headfirst into my established exercise routine. It began with a session of [Contortion] training, a great way to limber up before the more intense physical activities. Then came my usual combination of running, sneaking, and jumping around the floor. To an onlooker, my antics might have seemed absurd, yet the effectiveness of this routine was indisputable. After completing the exercise circuit, I returned to the apartment, ready for my habitual post-workout shower. It had become a part of my daily schedule, a refreshing routine I followed before heading out to assist Mr. Shori at his stall. As I stepped into the shower, my thoughts turned to the System Notifications that had accumulated over the course of the morning. Among the morning''s achievements, one stood out prominently: I had discovered a way to get a comprehensive overview of all the System Notifications I received throughout the day. This meant I could stay updated without the need to constantly check them as they arrived. This discovery, made early in my stretching session, or as the System categorised it, [Contortion], had significantly boosted my motivation for the rest of my exercises, especially the jogging part. ''Alright, let''s see what we have here... There was quite a bit today,'' I thought to myself, a hint of excitement in my grin. Eagerly, I called up the list of notifications, curious to see the full extent of my morning''s achievements.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 500xp. [System]: Body Attribute has reached 4. [System]: 600xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 100xp. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: [Acrobatics] Skill has reached Level 1.
That¡¯s right. The moment I achieved a Body Attribute of 4 and unlocked the [Acrobatics] knowledge drop, I knew I had hit a significant milestone. Unsurprisingly, I had even found a way to integrate [Acrobatics] into my morning runs without resorting to wild, erratic jumping¡ªwould you imagine that! A little System knowledge magic, and voil¨¤¡ªa more graceful and efficient training routine was born! As I stood under the shower, letting the water cascade over me, I couldn''t help but marvel at the improvement in my Body Attribute. The upgrade had kicked in right at the start of my run, and the difference in my physical capabilities was both astonishing and immensely satisfying. What really took me by surprise, though, was the faint outline of muscles beginning to show on my stomach and arms. This was something I had never imagined seeing on myself, but there it was, clear evidence of my physical transformation. I wasn''t exactly toned, but the foundation was undeniably there, however faint. In just about two weeks, I had gone from a frail, post-coma state to this new level of fitness. Although the pace of levelling up was slowing down markedly with each new level, making the next goal of Body 5 seem like a distant dream that was likely only possible in about as much time again or even more, the progress I had made was palpable. I was officially above average in terms of physical prowess, a thought I never expected to entertain, let alone achieve. And then there was the [Acrobatics] Skill. The knowledge drop had provided me with a foundational understanding of acrobatics, much like a crash course into the world of fluid and dynamic movement. It covered essential techniques and principles, transforming my approach to physical movement and balance. One of the first concepts I had learned during the download was the art of falling correctly. This included techniques on how to roll upon impact to distribute force, reducing the risk of injury. It was more than just tucking and rolling; it involved understanding the physics of my body in motion, teaching me to use momentum to my advantage. I also gained insights into the mechanics of jumping¡ªnot just the act of leaping into the air, but how to do so efficiently. This involved optimising my takeoff for height or distance, engaging the right muscle groups, and landing safely to minimise stress on my joints. Rolling, another critical aspect of the skill, was more than a simple forward roll. It encompassed various types of rolls used to navigate obstacles, maintain momentum, or transition into other movements seamlessly¡ªalmost like a cheap-man¡¯s version of parkour, which, aptly enough, was a Perk later down the line, once I reached Level 3 in [Acrobatics]. This knowledge was going to be particularly useful in situations where I needed to move quickly and fluidly over uneven terrain or through tight spaces. The knowledge drop also introduced me to the basics of body control and balance. This involved exercises and techniques to improve core strength, flexibility, and coordination. Such training was essential for more advanced acrobatic manoeuvres and for maintaining control during complex sequences of movements¡ªbasically an enhanced version of what the Reflex Attribute did for my whole body, but more focused. Lastly, I learned about spatial awareness and precision in movement. This aspect of the Skill helped me gauge distances accurately, move with purpose, and place my body exactly where it needed to be, when I needed it. Whether it was a precise jump or navigating through a cluttered space without touching anything, this knowledge was absolutely invaluable. While I was still very far from being an Olympic-level athlete, I couldn''t help but indulge in a bit of fanciful thinking. ''Maybe one day,'' I mused with a wry smile, feeling motivated and empowered by the progress I had made today. I had also decided to start using my Bonus Experience on [Stealth], now that my Body had reached the rank that was most likely going to be my current limit, at least for a few weeks. [Stealth], on the other hand, was going to be absolutely paramount in not just the upcoming missions that I had to complete for [Mr. Stirling¡¯s Task], but also my own list and anything else I wanted to tackle in this world going forward. While I hadn''t always been a fan of the stealth-archer approach in video games, real life was a whole different ¡°game¡± altogether. The surest way to stay out of harm''s way was to never even get into trouble to begin with. And the best way to do that, was to not get seen in the first place. More than once already, had I regretted not taking the [Ghost] Trait during my earlier Trait selection in the recent days, ever since [Mr. Shori¡¯s Task] had me wading into the den of the lion, so to speak. However, the [Blademaster] and [Polyglot] Traits had already proven their worth as well, with [Polyglot] being particularly invaluable, which made it hard to be too upset about my initial choices. [Polyglot] had unequivocally been a fantastic choice, in hindsight. It had helped me ingratiate myself with both Mr. Shori and Misha so far and it was likely only going to become more and more important, the more I delved into the greater world of Neon Dragons outside Delta, where cultural- and language-specific districts were more of a norm than a rarity. Shaking off the indulgence of nostalgia and my deep dive into System Notifications, I realised it was time to switch gears. "Okay, let''s get moving. There''s much to do at Mr. Shori¡¯s, and Mr. Stirling¡¯s task isn¡¯t going to complete itself," I thought, injecting a bit of pep-talk to propel myself out of the steamy comfort of the shower. Quickly, I dressed in my typical work attire, a blend of practicality and ease, perfect for a day that promised to be both busy and unpredictable. Just as I was about to step out the door, a prudent thought struck me. "Better take the knife," I murmured to myself, recalling the sleek RaZ Mk. 2 now in my possession. Considering the unpredictability of life in the Mega Buildings, being armed felt more like a necessity than an option, especially after what had happened to Gabriel. In these parts, it wasn''t unusual to see individuals sporting various types of armaments, from knives to guns. Therefore, strapping a knife to my back wouldn''t make me an outlier either. I retreated to my room and grabbed the sheath Misha had provided, complete with its versatile straps. Initially, I had planned to keep the knife at my side in a classic holster style, but I quickly realised the value of customizable carrying options. At Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, a waist-strapped knife could be cumbersome, so positioning it on my lower back, angled for a swift left-handed draw, seemed the ideal setup. I couldn''t help but mentally thank Misha for her foresight in providing such adaptable gear. "Ela will be back to see you soon, Misha," I thought, half-jokingly trying to send my gratitude through some imaginary psychic connection. Her assistance had already proven invaluable. Feeling prepared and secure with my knife in place, I finally left the apartment and made my way down to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, ready to face whatever the day had in store¡­
PoV: Jade Jade''s task, which had been handed down from Vega personally, was shaping up to be an absolute nightmare. The assignment was to subtly track and gather intelligence on someone that even Vega potentially considered his equal in skill and cunning. What had truly thrown Jade off balance, however, was the fact that her target was around her own age. ¡°This is just absurd. There¡¯s no way she¡¯s that good,¡± she muttered under her breath repeatedly since the assignment began. Her scepticism had been high at first, but as days passed, Jade was forced to acknowledge that Vega¡¯s evaluation might have been spot-on; as it usually was. Her target wasn¡¯t just any regular individual; she had the means to access restricted floors. The extent of this access was still a mystery to Jade, who hadn¡¯t yet managed to unravel just how deep her target''s privileges ran¡ªwas it just a single floor or a host of them? Unlike her target, Jade had no such access, complicating her surveillance efforts significantly. To Jade¡¯s initial relief, the target frequently visited the 16th floor, working shifts at ¡°Shori Noodles¡±¡ªa quaint eatery under their newest client''s ownership. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. This opportunity seemed like a silver lining, a chance for Jade to observe her quarry up close. But what initially seemed like an advantage rapidly devolved into a convoluted mess. Trying to decipher the target¡¯s motives and character from these visits was like navigating a labyrinth while blindfolded and drugged. Jade had made several attempts, each more earnest than the last. She had watched, analysed, and tried to understand, yet each observation session left her with more questions than answers. The target''s behaviour, actions, and even mundane interactions seemed to be enshrouded in layers of complexity that Jade had been struggling to peel back even a single layer of. She was finding her mission increasingly frustrating, as her allocated resources were rapidly depleting with little to show for it. The elusive "Ela" continued to evade her understanding, and the first personal assignment Vega had ever entrusted her with, seemed to be slipping through her fingers, despite her best efforts. Initially, she had recruited fellow members of the Clawed Beasts to assist in tracking Ela''s movements. However, their efforts had proven largely futile. Ela''s visits to the 16th floor were brief and elusive, and once she entered the restricted elevators, it was as if she vanished into thin air. The collective surveillance efforts had yielded practically nothing of value. Switching tactics, Jade then resorted to more direct observation. She had people trail Ela more closely, even going as far as to have several members eat at the stall every day to keep a watchful eye on her at all times, hoping to gather some clue, any insight into her target''s purpose and personality. But Ela''s time at Shori¡¯s Noodles didn''t reveal anything extraordinary either. Her activities were mundane, almost disappointingly so: Chopping algae, preparing broth, and honing knives. Nothing that hinted at the exceptional skills Vega had suggested. This lack of progress was exasperating. Here she was, handed a mission directly by Vega, a task he categorised under his third highest tier of priorities, and yet she was coming up empty. She had expected challenges, certainly, but the utter lack of progress was something else entirely. Yesterday''s operation, however, had been the most taxing yet for Jade and had nearly made her quit the assignment altogether. After days of meticulous tracking, she had pinpointed the approximate time her target, Ela, frequented the 16th floor. The pattern was consistent enough for Jade to stage a calculated disturbance. The motive behind this was simple but crucial: Vega had hinted at Ela¡¯s peculiar sensitivity towards acts of physical violence. This information was the cornerstone of Jade¡¯s plan. She orchestrated a dramatic scene, one that would resonate deeply with any young woman witnessing it¡ªa staged abduction of a young girl, executed in broad daylight. The scenario was chosen for its emotional impact, something that Jade believed would surely provoke a significant reaction from Ela. The participants in this charade were locals¡ªbeggars who, Jade knew, wouldn¡¯t be missed or questioned in the aftermath, regardless of Ela''s potential response. Furthermore, the girl playing the victim was a member of the Clawed Beasts, well-versed in their operations. This ensured that even if Jade lost track of Ela during the chaos, they would still gather valuable information based on Ela''s actions or lack thereof. Jade had considered every angle¡ªeven Ela''s possible indifference to the staged incident would be telling. Inaction, after all, could be as or even more revealing as action in the right context. However, despite Jade¡¯s meticulous planning and calculated execution, the outcome was far from what she had anticipated. The unfolding of events did not align with any of Jade¡¯s predictions, leaving her with an unsettling feeling of uncertainty and apprehension. The incident had not only failed to yield the desired insights into Ela''s character but had instead plunged Jade into a whirlpool of anxiety. The aftermath had left her restless, robbing her of sleep, instead leaving her to calculate her next moves in this increasingly complex web of espionage that her target had spun for her. She had meticulously set up what she thought was a foolproof scenario, only to find Ela not only seeing through the charade with an unnerving clarity but also subtly warning Jade against orchestrating such events in the future. The revelation had sent chills down Jade''s spine, forcing her to reevaluate her approach and the enigma that was Ela. Jade remembered with a shiver the conversation she had with the beggar, briefly after everything had gone awry. His words had been enthusiastic yet laced with an undercurrent of awe. "Oh, that¡¯s her name?! Ela? She''s something else," he had exclaimed, his eyes widening with respect. "She handed me a stack of creds¡ªway more than what you gave, no offence. And there was a note too!" Curiosity piqued, Jade had reluctantly paid extra to have the beggar read out the note, a decision that had left her shaken. The message was simple yet loaded with implications: "Evening the scales." The phrase echoed in Jade''s mind, a veiled but unmistakable warning. It implied a balance of actions and consequences, suggesting that any future attempts to provoke Ela might be met with a direct and equal response¡ªa clear warning and threat alike. The gravity of this realisation weighed heavily on Jade. The note hinted at a level of awareness and capability that went beyond Jade''s initial assessment¡ªmaybe even Vega¡¯s too. This wasn¡¯t just a mere warning; it was a clear message that Ela was not one to be trifled with lightly. Jade couldn''t shake off the feeling that she was dealing with someone far more formidable than she had anticipated, someone who could not only decipher her schemes but also respond with a subtle yet powerful message of their own. Her concern only deepened as the beggar had continued his narrative. Ela''s seemingly altruistic act of instructing him to "Pay it forward" wasn''t just about spreading goodwill; it was a calculated move to ensure Jade received a message. "She was all about passing on the kindness," the beggar had explained with a grateful smile. "Told me to spread the word about her generosity, you see? If you do meet her, let her know I''m thankful, will you?" But Jade saw right through the thinly veiled facade. This wasn''t about Ela seeking praise or adulation; it was a clever way of communicating directly with Jade, a reminder of Ela''s perceptiveness and a nudge for Jade to rethink her strategies. Restless and uneasy, Jade spent the night devising a new approach, one that bordered on the risky and went against Vega''s cardinal rule: "Never conduct your investigations personally." This rule was a cornerstone of survival in their line of work and something that Vega had drilled into her mind since the very day he had taken her in. After all, the fastest way for somebody to die in this world, was to get noticed by the wrong people. Yet, she felt cornered into taking this perilous, forbidden step. Ela had proven too astute, too aware for any indirect method to yield results. The only viable way to gauge Ela''s true nature and intentions, Jade had reluctantly concluded, was to engage with her face-to-face. As she steeled herself for the day ahead, Jade clung to a faint hope that her identity remained a secret, that Ela hadn''t yet connected her to the orchestrated events. "Maybe she''ll just think it''s all Vega''s shadowplay," Jade whispered to herself, a mixture of hope and dread simmering within her as she prepared to encounter Ela once again and meet her face-to-face for the very first time. Her plan, fraught with tremendous risk and the potential for dire consequences, was a gamble she felt forced to take. Failure was no longer an option¡ªnot only would it mean disappointing Vega, but it would also mark a serious breach of his teachings, with nothing to show for it. Jade knew that the stakes were high, and she had to succeed at all costs, as she fixed her eyes onto the restricted elevator doors in the distance¡­
Exiting the restricted elevator, a sense of unease clung to me, the remnants of yesterday''s troubling event still casting a shadow over my thoughts. Part of me yearned to erase the memory, while another insisted on learning from it, ensuring it didn¡¯t go unnoticed. Instinctively, my hand drifted towards the sheath at my back, a silent reassurance as I wove through the bustling crowd, my gaze scanning the sea of faces. I was on the lookout for any sign of yesterday''s beggar, the young girl, or any hint of their presence, but my search was fruitless. ¡®Let it go, Sera. You couldn¡¯t have changed what happened, and dwelling on it won''t help anyone,¡¯ I silently reasoned with myself, striving to balance the emotional turmoil with a dose of practicality. But even as I attempted to focus my mind, the incident lingered, a stubborn echo in my consciousness. With a deep breath, I reminded myself of the larger tasks at hand, the pressing responsibilities that demanded my attention over the next few hours. Approaching Mr. Shori''s stall, my tension gradually eased, and my posture relaxed. The row of beggars faded from my view, and with it, my hand instinctively moved away from the knife''s sheath. A newfound understanding dawned on me: The readiness to draw my weapon had been a source of comfort in navigating the unpredictable streets this morning and was likely going to be in the future as well. As I entered the back of the stall, I was met with Mr. Shori''s startled and slightly irate expression, ¡°Who you? What you do in back? This is Shori¡¯s¡ªHuh? Ela?¡± His words tumbled out in rapid succession, halting abruptly as recognition dawned in his eyes. ¡°New hair! Look very good! Also definitely no stick. You strong now?¡± He queried, his gaze examining me as though I were one of his carefully selected batches of algae. His English, fragmented yet earnest, added a familiar charm to his inquiry. ¡°I approve! Ela good recovery!¡± he finally declared, his thumb raised in his usual gesture of approval and encouragement. His reaction, a mix of surprise and genuine delight, brought a smile to my face, reminding me of the small joys to be found in this world. It wasn¡¯t all bad on the 16th floor, after all. "Thank you, Mr. Shori," I responded, my face brightening with a sincere smile. His was the first recognition of my new hairstyle outside of Valeria¡¯s note; Gabriel and Oliver hadn''t seemed to notice, too worn down by their respective days. "I thought it was time to sort out that mess of hair. And Mr. Shori, your recommendation for Misha¡¯s Emporium was spot on. She was absolutely amazing. I got everything I needed, and then some!" A look of pleased surprise crossed Mr. Shori''s face, followed by a nod of understanding. "Yes, Misha very kind. Good vendor. Strange, but great goods," he agreed, his voice tinged with a note of fondness. Then, lowering his voice and leaning in, he switched to Japanese for a moment, sharing a secret. "{You know, between you and me, I had no idea Misha was a woman. Gryplik are quite a fascinating species, aren¡¯t they? I can¡¯t tell much about them, but their merchandise is the real deal.}" Acknowledging his remark with an affirmative nod, I slipped into the apron and hairnet he''d laid out for me, as was our routine each morning. The ritual familiarity of it all brought a comforting sense of normalcy to the start of my day. As Mr. Shori returned to his work at the front of the stall, I started with my day¡¯s usual tasks: Cutting algae, preparing broth and sharpening knives that Mr. Shori handed to me¡­ ¡ª The day unfolded in its usual rhythm, and I found myself settling into the familiar pattern of the daily grind, my mind already plotting the steps I would take later. ''After my shift, I''ll grab my gear, the shard, and head to the 62nd floor. With all the details Mr. Stirling provided, locating the contact should be straightforward. I just hope they aren''t too thrown off by my presence instead of Mr. Stirling''s. But, I trust he''s informed them ahead of time,'' I considered, mentally preparing for any unforeseen complications. As I continued to ponder, Mr. Shori unexpectedly blocked my path, an intentional move I knew was out of the ordinary for him. When he started to speak in Japanese, it immediately grabbed my full attention; this too was something he didn''t do without good reason. "{There''s a young girl outside. She looks starving and sleep-deprived, just like you were when we first met. Prepare a meal for her¡ªone like those you make for yourself to take home. I''ll manage the stall while you''re away. Be as kind as you can; we don''t know her story,}" he said, his voice imbued with the same compassion that he had shown me, the first time I had met him. His heartfelt request was one I couldn''t ignore. With a nod, I set about preparing the meal swiftly and efficiently. By now, I had become quite adept at creating a generous serving of Mr. Shori''s signature algae ramen, Sera style, even if I wasn¡¯t quite bold enough to claim mastery over his recipe. In my hands, the ingredients mingled, not yet perfect, but with each day''s practice, I was inching closer. After finishing the meal, I stepped from the stall''s back into the bustling front area. My gaze swept over the patrons and those waiting, searching for the girl Mr. Shori described. Despite his vague details, identifying a young girl around my age, half-starved and sleep-deprived, amidst the crowd shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. It turned out that my intuition had been correct moments later. ''Ah, there she is,'' I realised, spotting her among the bustling crowd near the busy main road. The moment our eyes met, hers widened with unmistakable terror. It was a raw, unguarded fear that spoke volumes of her experiences. ''What could she have possibly endured to react so fearfully to a random stranger''s approach?'' I wondered, empathising deeply with her plight. Her reaction, so steeped in dread, triggered unwelcome echoes of my own school days, a time when every social interaction had felt like an insult, a mockery of my very existence. There she stood, frozen in place, her gaze locked onto me. Her eyes, wide and brimming with fear, seemed to search for a threat or perhaps a glimmer of kindness in mine. It was a look that resonated with my own past, a reflection of the vulnerabilities I had once harboured and would have rather entirely forgotten about. Still, I approached her gently, extending the steaming bowl of ramen as a peace offering. ¡°It¡¯s free, really," I reassured her with a smile, trying to dispel her obvious fear. "Mr. Shori believes in the old helping the young. He asked me to come out and help you. Would you like to sit down and eat?¡± She regarded me with suspicion, her eyes shifting from the ramen back to my face. I held the bowl steadily, now only a few metres away. In her gaze, I saw reflections of my own past struggles, a mirror of sorts. It struck me, the similarity in our eyes¡ªmine a deep emerald green, hers a lighter shade, reminiscent of jade stones¡­ Chapter 39 - First Data Collection The girl''s eyes remained fixated on me, almost as if she was just waiting for me to pounce on her. Her wariness was palpable, casting a shadow over my sincere attempt to extend a helping hand. This level of distrust, though disheartening, wasn''t entirely unexpected whatsoever. I recalled my own guarded reaction when I first encountered Mr. Shori¡¯s kindness. My acceptance of his offer had been decidedly swifter, but I also hadn''t spent my entire life in this harsh world, dealing with gods know what kind of trouble from a young age. Determined to maintain a gentle demeanour, I patiently held out the bowl of ramen to her. My approach was cautious and non-threatening, much like one would use to coax a wary, stray cat. I almost instinctively squinted my eyes¡ªa calming gesture I learned in my past life to gain a cat''s trust¡ªbut quickly stopped myself, realising it would seem decidedly odd in this context. Gradually, I noticed a shift in her expression. The raw, unadulterated terror in her eyes began to fade, replaced by a heavy dose of suspicion. ''This is progress¡­ I think,'' I thought, relieved to see her slowly letting her guard down. ''I just hope she decides soon, or the ramen will turn cold.'' As the girl''s demeanour gradually shifted, her defensive stance eased into a more relaxed posture. She transitioned from appearing ready to vanish into the throng to standing slightly more confidently. Speaking for the first time, her voice carried an unexpected strength and a hint of scepticism. "Why¡­? Why are you doing this?" she inquired, her gaze flitting between my eyes, as though she was searching for any hint of deceit in each one individually. Internally, I grappled with a sense of annoyance. ''I''m really not cut out for this kind of interaction, Mr. Shori. I¡¯m not good with people,'' I thought, despite maintaining a friendly exterior. "Like I said, Mr. Shori wanted me to help you. He noticed you in the crowd and thought you might be hungry. He did the same for me when I needed it," I reiterated, explaining Mr. Shori''s compassionate gesture and the reason I was here now. Her response was unexpected, a blend of annoyance and resignation. "You know that''s not¡ªWhatever," she began, but abruptly stopped herself, her tone shifting. "Fine, I''ll play along with this game of yours." Accepting the bowl from my hands, she did so with a level of agility and strength that belied her apparent state of fatigue and hunger. Her actions weren''t those of a typical destitute street dweller. I found myself abruptly curious about her background. ''She seems more composed and capable than I initially thought. Could she be a runaway from a relatively well-off family or something like that?'' I wondered, intrigued by her poised yet irritable demeanour. Her acceptance of the meal, albeit grudgingly, was a small victory in breaking through her defensive shell. Her story, whatever it might be, seemed layered and complex, far from the straightforward tale of hardship I had assumed at first glance. I motioned towards the scattered seating near Shori¡¯s Noodles, inviting her to take a seat. Without a word, the girl promptly headed towards the chairs, her behaviour having shifted dramatically from that of a frightened, vulnerable girl to one resembling a disgruntled, irritable teenager. Her abrupt change in attitude left me puzzled. ''What exactly is her story?'' I wondered silently. Taking a seat beside her near the stall''s front, we both faced Mr. Shori. For a fleeting moment, he glanced my way, giving a subtle nod of approval. A wave of satisfaction washed over me at this small gesture of acknowledgment from the man I''d come to regard as a grandfather-like figure in recent days. ''All the effort to remain calm and friendly so far was totally worth it!'' I thought, basking in the warm glow of his silent commendation. Meanwhile, the girl beside me scrutinised the steaming bowl of ramen as if it were a mysterious artefact. With a surprising precision, she wielded a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a spoon in the other, gently probing and lifting the noodles and other ingredients, more in exploration than in the act of eating. ¡°Is there anything in there that¡¯s not to your liking?¡± I inquired with a warm, hopefully accommodating smile. ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to whip up another batch, especially if there¡¯s an ingredient that doesn¡¯t agree with you or something.¡± My offer was aiming to placate the discerning teenager in front of me to the best of my ability. ¡°Remake it¡­?¡± she murmured under her breath, a note of surprise in her tone. Lifting her gaze, she locked eyes with me, her expression a curious blend of incredulity and interest. ¡°Did you actually make this yourself?¡± In response, I gave her a simple, friendly nod. The girl''s eyes, previously narrowed in scrutiny, suddenly flicked back to the bowl with an unmistakable glint of fright. It was as if she''d seen a ghost hiding among the noodles and broth. To ease her apparent alarm, I tried to inject a bit of humour into the situation. "It''s not poisoned or anything, I promise! Eating a dinner laced with a bunch of NeuroCorpse once was more than enough for me; never again. So, I generally don''t include poison in my recipes." I chuckled lightly, hoping to lighten the mood. To my dismay, my attempt at a joke seemed to have the opposite effect. The mention of my recent, harrowing dinner experience only intensified the terror in her eyes, transforming her cautious intrigue into unadulterated horror. Realising that my words had backfired spectacularly, I knew I needed to act quickly to salvage the situation. In a swift motion, I reached for a clean spoon from a nearby tray. Dipping it into the aromatic bowl in front of the girl, I scooped up a generous portion of the broth and noodles and brought it to my lips, taking a hearty mouthful. Swallowing with an exaggerated expression of delight, I reassured her, "See? No poison. It''s perfectly safe. Really." I flashed her an encouraging smile, hoping my actions spoke louder than my poorly chosen words. Gradually, the girl''s rigid posture began to ease once again, albeit slightly, after witnessing my sampling of the ramen. Yet, her body language remained tense, like a tightly coiled spring, betraying an underlying sense of extreme apprehension. She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were hindered by a crack in her voice. Pausing, she cleared her throat with a small, embarrassed cough before attempting again. "Alright. I''ll eat it... Thank you," she said, her voice steadier this time but still carrying a hint of uncertainty. I shook my head gently, my smile still in place. "Oh, you don''t need to thank me," I replied, eager to shift the credit where it was due. "You should really be thanking Mr. Shori. Without his guidance, I wouldn''t know the first thing about cooking. He''s the one who supplied the ingredients and, more importantly, he''s the one who knew you needed help." Realising then that we hadn''t formally introduced ourselves, I extended my hand in a friendly gesture. "Oh, and by the way, I''m Ela," I added with a warm, inviting smile. It seemed important to establish a more personal connection, especially considering the morning''s unexpected turn of events so far. As if my words had unwittingly sprung another one of her mental trap cards, the girl''s eyes narrowed once more, sharpening like the edge of a finely honed blade as she scrutinised me anew. It was as though she was peering through a microscope, trying to uncover a hidden maze of motives and intentions behind my every gesture and phrase I uttered. However, her search seemed fruitless. With a resigned sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her suspicions, the girl took my hand. Her handshake was surprisingly firm, betraying a strength that belied her cautious demeanour. "Name''s Aki. I''ll be sure to extend my gratitude to Mr. Shori, then," she said, her voice steadier now, yet still tinged with a trace of wariness. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, as if I had successfully navigated a delicate diplomatic mission, I rose from my seat beside her. "I''ll head back to my post behind the stall then," I announced cheerfully. "If you find yourself needing anything at all, just mention it to Mr. Shori. He''s the epitome of kindness, and I''m pretty sure he¡¯s physically incapable of saying no. It was really nice meeting you, Aki. I hope we cross paths again soon!" With a swift turn, I made my way back to the familiar and comforting confines of the stall''s back area. As I walked away, I couldn''t help but notice the flicker of fear that still danced in Aki''s eyes at my departure. ''She really needs to relax a bit... I''m not exactly intimidating, am I? Sure, my hair''s absolutely amazing now, but that shouldn''t be enough to spook someone like that!'' I mused to myself, pondering over Aki''s strangely apprehensive reactions as I returned to my spot at the broth pots in the back of the stall¡­
Over the next few hours, I immersed myself in the usual hustle of the day, gently nudging the memory of my encounter with the peculiar girl to a quiet corner of my mind. After all, there were more pressing matters at hand that demanded my attention. By the time my shift concluded and I made my way toward the restricted elevators, the image of the girl had faded like a morning mist. ''I should ask Mr. Shori about her tomorrow,'' I thought idly as I waited for the elevator. I was curious whether she ever spoke to him after our interaction whatsoever. Once I returned home, I dove headfirst into transitioning into my Operator persona. Although it was still a considerable work-in-progress, the allure of being an Operator had always captivated me and was definitely something I was going to work towards in this life. In the vibrant and shadowy world of Neon Dragons, Operators were akin to something like elite mercenaries. They primarily worked with Fixers¡ªthose rare, savvy individuals who gathered the necessary intel on gigs and set up contracts for others to execute. But their skills were so in demand that virtually anyone with sufficient credits would want to enlist their services. Even bigger corporations ended up resorting to the work of Operators quite often. Being an Operator was a role that teetered on the edge of danger and excitement, offering rewards as high as the risks involved. It was no surprise that in Neon Dragons, the path of the Operator was a coveted one for the player character. The most intriguing and morally ambiguous jobs often required the expertise of a well-known Operator. After all, when delving into the realms of the legally questionable or outright perilous, it paid to have a seasoned and reputable professional by your side. This world didn''t take kindly to amateurs or unknowns, especially in the darker undertows of its sprawling neon-lit streets. My journey was only just beginning, so I had to make sure I had a good start to my potential new career. Slipping into the comfortable undershirt and pants, I then donned the Pseudo-Tier 1 Bomber jacket and scarf, feeling the familiar weight of their heavier aramid fibres settle on my shoulders. Although I hoped not to rely on their protective capabilities, I knew that in the risky game of corporate espionage, being prepared was non-negotiable. The stakes of each mission felt akin to navigating a high-risk video game: Every operation was on hardcore mode, where one misstep could mean the end, with no second chances. I tightened the sheath of my knife, positioning it expertly between my jacket and undershirt, following Mr. Stirling''s recent advice. "Don''t hide your knife under your clothes," he had cautioned with the authority of an experienced professional. "Anyone who knows their weapons will spot it in an instant. You''re just hindering your access to it. Wear it at your hip, back, or thighs, but never under a layer that restricts a quick draw. That applies to guns too, should you ever get one." This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. His words had resonated with the logical part in me, and I had swiftly adopted his advice. Since I might potentially meet him again for the drop-off later, I was determined to impress him by showing that I had taken his guidance to heart immediately. Before stepping out the door to head towards the 62nd floor, I carefully inserted the access shard Mr. Stirling had given me into my neck slot. This little piece of technology was crucial; without it, I wouldn''t be able to get the elevator to take me to the designated floor. As a final check, I meticulously reviewed all the task-related details, including maps and notes Mr. Stirling had digitally transferred during our conversation the previous day. They were all spread out in front of me, hovering digitally over the coffee table while I lounged on the living room couch. This visual arrangement of my mission details, likely a habit from my past life, felt more comfortable to me than simply scrolling through them in my cerebral interface. Fortunately, the solitude of my home spared me from any curious eyes that might find my behaviour and gestures odd. "So¡­ I need to head to room 62-043, have a chat with the person there, and they''ll hand over the data," I vocalised, summarising the short mission briefing I had received from Mr. Stirling. "Sounds straightforward enough..." Next, I focused on devising multiple escape strategies, just in case the situation spiralled out of control. "The nearest standard and restricted elevators are located here¡­ here, and here," I marked them on the map displayed in my cerebral interface, designating them as escape plans A, B, C, and D. I''ve always believed in the principle of being over-prepared rather than caught off guard. "If I sense anything amiss, I''ll aim for a casual exit using one of these routes, choosing the one that seems least likely to lead into trouble. In the event of an active pursuit, options B or D would be more strategic. They''re further away and the complex layout of the hallways should help me shake off any followers...I hope." I was fairly confident that reaching one of the elevators would signify my safety. These elevators were owned by the Mega Building owners and served the entire building, not just a specific floor, so it seemed improbable that the proprietors of the 62nd floor could halt them, unless they resorted to outright sabotage. Once back on the 43rd floor, I was quite sure I could count on Mr. Stirling''s protection. He had not-so-subtly alluded to this the previous day. While I wasn¡¯t one to blindly trust someone''s word of protection, there was a genuine ring to his assurance about this aspect of his job¡¯s responsibilities¡ªspecifically the part where he was supposed to take care of any intruders. In the unlikely event that all other options failed, I always had my apartment as a last resort. I could easily barricade myself inside and contact Valeria¡ªit was a last-resort, but a powerful one. She was assuredly going to be able to message someone at Ether Labs who could handle any pursuers brave enough to follow me there. Additionally, the apartment was equipped with an array of kitchen knives, perfect candidates for a quick application of my [Sharpen] Perk and [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] Ability. This combination was a formidable defence, sure to deter anyone foolish enough to attempt a break-in. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get this show on the road,¡± I muttered to myself as I rose from the couch and walked towards the door of the apartment, trying to hype myself up and get rid of the anxious knot in my stomach. Despite my best attempts at thinking through every eventuality, I was still about to set out and be complicit in bona-fide corporate espionage in a cyberpunk world. There was barely a faster way to get disappeared than that, if there was anything I knew about the genre as a whole. Nobody could really fault me for being a tad nervous about this whole thing, right¡­?
As the elevator smoothly glided upwards to the 62nd floor, the rhythmic thumping of my heart echoed in my ears, amplifying my anxious anticipation. To merely label myself as nervous at this point would be a colossal understatement. There was a fleeting moment of regret for not having my knife more accessible; its familiar weight and grip would almost certainly have brought a sense of reassurance. ''Stay calm, Sera. You''ve got this. Just act like you''re meant to be here. And if anyone dares to pry, just brush them off¡ªit''s none of their business,'' I mentally rehearsed my strategy for navigating the floor. After all, there was no obligation to entertain the inquiries of the overly curious. As long as they weren''t Falkum Industries security, no one really held any jurisdiction over me there. As I stepped out of the elevator, the transition from my familiar 43rd floor to the 62nd was striking. The 43rd floor, my new home, had always felt somewhat welcoming, lived-in and grounded, with its more down-to-earth lighting and dressed rock-crete walls. In stark contrast, the 62nd floor exuded a sense of opulence and high-tech efficiency. The lighting here was cooler, casting sharp, angular shadows across sleek, metallic surfaces. It was like the entire floor had been clad in some kind of metallic-armour, for whatever reason, and large, black letters were prominently displayed across the hallways in regular intervals: F.I. I followed the map displayed in my cerebral interface, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere of the floor I had found myself on. I had consciously decided to have the map actively displayed while I tried to navigate the floor. It would not only ensure that I wouldn''t lose my way in this unfamiliar environment but it would also serve a secondary, more subtle purpose: My standard-issue eyes, glowing with a soft, light-blue neon hue, signalled to everyone around me that I had something displayed in my cerebral interface. It was like a sign above my head that said I was engaged in something important. It was a universally understood indicator in the world of Neon Dragons, akin to wearing earbuds in my old world. It was a silent request for others to keep their distance, and I hoped it would ward off any unwelcome interruptions or curious onlookers. As I navigated the corridors, I really couldn''t help but feel a sense of strange detachment, further emphasised by the stark, almost clinical ambiance. This place was a far cry from the more homely vibe of my own floor, where each corner seemed to tell a story. Here, every element was like it was meticulously designed for efficiency and elegance, downright devoid of any personal touch. The very few people I passed by seemed to mirror this environment, moving with purposeful strides, their expressions focused and unreadable. ''At least their indifference works in my favour... Better to have them aloof and disinterested than overly inquisitive,'' I mused quietly to myself as I navigated the corridors of the 62nd floor. After a few minutes of diligently following the clearly marked waypoints on my cerebral interface, which I had meticulously set up in advance, I arrived at my destination: Apartment 62-043. The journey here had been unexpectedly smooth and devoid of any complications. Unlike my experience on floor 31, where guards had been a conspicuous presence at all the elevators and at nearly every corner, this floor seemed to operate on a different level of security¡ªor perhaps, a different philosophy altogether. There were no watchful eyes tracking my movements, no curious onlookers questioning my presence. It appeared that I had managed to slip into the 62nd floor unnoticed, a ghost among the shadows, my arrival and intentions still cloaked in secrecy¡ªor so I hoped. I paused outside the door, drawing a deep, steadying breath, before rapping lightly on the polished surface in front of me¡ªeven the doors on this floor were made out of some strange kind of metal. As I waited, the seconds ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, amplifying my growing anxiety. The silence from within was unnerving. ''Did I get the wrong door¡­?'' I wondered, my mind racing. Quickly, I revisited Mr. Stirling''s notes, cross-referencing them with my current position and the detailed map he had provided. ''No, this is definitely the right place,'' I confirmed to myself, a sense of relief intermingling with my persistent unease. With a bit more force, I knocked again, pondering various reasons for the lack of response. Perhaps the person inside was hard of hearing, lost in some music through their headphones, or even fast asleep? But, much to my frustration, the door remained as unresponsive as before. ''Great. With all the plans and contingencies I had prepared, I never once considered that my contact might just... not be here,'' I thought, a mix of annoyance and disbelief clouding my thoughts. Mr. Stirling had been quite certain they would be present. ''So, what''s the next move, Sera? Stand here like a lost tourist, or...?'' The question hung unanswered in the air, as I stood there, momentarily at a loss. Resolved to try just once more, I knocked on the door again, this time with a firm but restrained hand. I was cautious not to make enough noise to pique the curiosity of any nearby residents. If this attempt failed, my next course of action would be to message Mr. Stirling, as per my backup plan that I had just come up with. This time, however, there was a response, albeit a subtle one. Through the door, which too appeared to be made of some sturdy metal, I could barely make out the sound of what seemed like a heavy object being shifted inside. ''Could it be that they''ve barricaded themselves in?'' I wondered, my imagination kicking into overdrive at the muffled sounds emanating from the apartment. Suddenly, a quiet, mechanical voice emerged from my left, emanating from a small black square on the door. I had initially overlooked this feature, not knowing its purpose, but it now became clear that it was some sort of communication device. "What do you want? Make it quick," said the voice, devoid of any natural human warmth or inflection. Caught off guard by the voice''s mechanical nature, I hesitated for a moment before responding. Leaning slightly towards the black square, I replied in a low, clear tone, "I¡¯m here for a pick-up." According to Mr. Stirling, that should be all the information my contact needed. He had emphasised the importance of discretion; while his name carried some weight, he reminded me that mine did not. By casually dropping his name, especially in public, I would inadvertently shine a spotlight on myself¡ªa risk I was not willing to take. "A pick-up, you say?" came the reply from the voice, which then fell into an abrupt silence. Feeling a bit unsure, I reasserted, "Ehh... Yes. A pick-up," after about half a minute of waiting, when it became apparent that there wasn''t going to be any further response. The whole interaction was shaping up to be quite peculiar, and I couldn''t help feeling a bit out of my depth. There I was, expecting a slick, covert Operator-style mission, only to be met with a reclusive individual communicating through a voice modulator, seemingly reluctant to engage. A weary sigh escaped me as I contemplated messaging Mr. Stirling for guidance. ''I really don¡¯t want to have to fall back on him for my very first task¡­ That would be just too embarrassing.'' Suddenly, a hidden slot in the door slid open with a metallic rasp, catching me completely off guard. I instinctively jumped back from the door as a small, metallic hand extended through, clutching a data-shard. Realising my mistake, I quickly stepped forward again and accepted the shard from the hand. However, before releasing it, the voice issued a stern warning, "For our mutual friend¡¯s hands only. I will know if you tried to access it. Don¡¯t even think about it." With those ominous words, the hand withdrew, and the slot snapped shut. I could hear the sound of heavy furniture being shuffled back into place behind the door, resealing the fortress-like solitude of the apartment¡¯s occupant. The entire sequence of events had left me somewhat bewildered, and I found myself scrambling to process what had just happened. ''Ehh... So, this is it, huh? Mission accomplished, I suppose?'' I thought, trying to affirm the success in my own mind. I lingered for an extra minute, half-expecting the mysterious contact might have more to say, but the silence that followed was unbroken. Deciding it was time to leave, I carefully tucked the data-shard into the folds of my scarf. This seemed a safer option than my pockets, particularly if I encountered any opportunistic pickpockets or found myself subjected to a cursory security check. With a sense of relief, I made my way to the nearest elevator, thankful for the foresight I had in mapping out their locations earlier. This preparation paid off, allowing me to swiftly descend back to the 43rd floor in just a matter of minutes. The fact that not a single soul had paid me any undue attention during my stint on the 62nd floor filled me with a quiet sense of pride. I had managed to execute my task with a level of stealth and discretion that felt truly befitting of an Operator. It was a small but significant victory in my eyes. Feeling like a million bucks, I quickly made my way to Mr. Stirling¡¯s apartment and knocked on the door. Barely any time had passed before Mr. Stirling opened the door. Without exchanging preliminary greetings, he gestured for me to enter. I found myself settling into the same seat I had occupied the day before, with Mr. Stirling taking his usual place across from me. His raised eyebrow was a clear, unspoken prompt for me to initiate the discussion about the purpose of my visit. I carefully extracted the data-shard from the hidden folds of my scarf and slid it across the coffee table towards him, adding a touch of drama to the moment. ''I''ve always wanted to do that...'' I thought, a bit amused by my own theatrics. "With this, my first delivery is completed," I said, managing a neutral grin despite the bubbling excitement inside. The thought that I had navigated my first task without any complications or problems was thrilling. "Oh?" Mr. Stirling responded with a hint of surprise as he picked up the data-shard. "I''m impressed by your efficiency. I had assumed your visit was at the beginning of your task, not concluding your mission. Well done. Consider your first task a success. I''ll reach out in a few days once I''ve determined the next steps for my investigation." As he spoke, I noticed several notifications pop up. The most prominent one, displayed in the corner of my vision by my cerebral interface, was from the credit account linked to my personage.
[(Insufficient Access) has transferred {c}75 to your account with the note: ¡°{First delivery successful.}¡±]
I was thoroughly intrigued by the notification, as I had never seen (Insufficient Access) before. ''This must be some high-level privacy measure. Mr. Stirling is shaping up to be an invaluable contact, if I can manage to ingratiate myself more with him and get some pointers,'' I mused, already looking forward to seeking his advice in the future. The 75 credits felt generous for the task''s simplicity, but considering the risks involved, it wasn''t an extravagant sum. Still, it was a significant amount, especially given that I was undertaking these jobs primarily to settle an existing debt. "Thank you, Mr. Stirling. I¡¯ll await your message," I said, offering a respectful bow similar to the one I occasionally gave Mr. Shori. Rising from my seat, I prepared to leave. Mr. Stirling escorted me to the door, parting with a reminder, "Take a day or two to rest, I won¡¯t have anything for you during that time. Should be a week at most. Let me know if you become unavailable during that time." With a nod in acknowledgment, I made my way back to my apartment, my mind already racing with thoughts. ''First task successfully completed! Now, to decide where to allocate my new Skill Point¡­!'' Chapter 40 - Unexpected Progress Back in the apartment, I immediately headed towards my room to get changed and figure out what I was going to do with the rewards for the Task. ¡®Let¡¯s see here¡­¡¯ I thought to myself, as I navigated the [Task] screen and claimed the rewards for [Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (First Data Collection)]. Just like last time, the [Skills] interface popped up immediately, urging me to spend the free Skill Point before letting me move on.
[System]: 250xp gained. [System]: 1 Skill Point gained. Skill interface will automatically open to distribute excess points.
¡®Alright, then. I have a ton of options, but I should be more utilitarian with my choice this time around. Last time, I simply chose whatever was going to give me the most experience, but considering how rare Skill Points seem to be so far, I should instead be considering which Skills are the hardest to level for me right now and go for those,¡¯ I argued while scrutinising the list.
[<-- Skills - 1 Unspent Skill Point(s) available -->] [Meditation] Level 4 - 0 / 4,000xp (Intuition/Ego) [First-Aid] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Juggling] Level 3 - 400 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Blades] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body/Reflex) [Throwing] Level 4 - 0 / 4,000xp (Reflex) [Knives] Level 3 - 800 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Programming] Level 2 - 1,100 / 2,000xp (Intellect) [Netrunning] Level 1 - 400 / 1,000xp (Intellect) [Manifestation] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Intuition) [Cooking] Level 2 - 700 / 2,000xp (Intuition/Tech) [Slicing] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (>Intellect/Reflex<) [Maid] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Body/Intuition) [Stealth] Level 2 - 1,600 / 2,000xp (Edge) [Athletics] Level 2 - 1,500 / 2,000xp (Body) [Contortion] Level 0 - 100 / 700xp (>Body/Reflex<) [Acrobatics] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body/Edge) [Poison] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Edge/Tech) [Deception] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (>Edge/Ego<) [Appraise] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Intuition/Tech/Intellect<) [Negotiation] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Ego/Intuition<)
As I scrutinised my Skill list, a clear distinction emerged between those integrated into my daily routines and those that languished, undeveloped, at level 0. The former group mostly hovered around levels 2 or 3, thanks to my regular exercises and stints at Mr. Shori¡¯s, as well as the SPG-01 shard providing me with netrunning lessons, while the latter remained stagnant. ''Choosing wisely is key here,'' I contemplated, focusing on the Skills that seemed beyond my current reach. ''If I want to maximise the impact of this Skill Point, I should target a level 0 Skill. Even if it will only give me a minimal amount of experience points, getting a single level in them could help kickstart those seemingly untrainable Skills. The knowledge downloads would undoubtedly help me figure out how to incorporate them into my routine or train them in general¡­'' The Skills at level 0 that caught my eye were [First-Aid], [Manifestation], [Slicing], [Maid], [Poison], [Deception], and [Appraise]. Each of these Skills had its unique allure, but my current predicament with Mr. Stirling''s tasks required a more immediate, practical benefit. [Appraise], with its enticing [Appraisal] Ability, was certainly on my radar for future investment, but for now, it was essential to prioritise Skills that would aid me in the imminent tasks. Thus, [Appraise] and [Manifestation], the latter being relevant primarily to netrunning, were promptly sidelined in favour of Skills that promised more immediate utility and applicable bonuses in my current assignments. [Manifestation] was a complete unknown, as I had no idea what it might be used for. It hadn¡¯t existed in the game, much like [Maid], [Slicing] or [Juggling]. As a result, I was hesitant to ¡°waste¡± a Skill Point on it, just to get a rough idea of what it might do. All I knew was that it had something to do with cyberspace, which was unlikely to provide any immediate benefits to me right now. It was undoubtedly going to be part of one of the programming guides on either the SPG-01 shard or subsequent ones anyway, meaning that it wasn¡¯t going to be a hard-stuck Skill like some of the others were right now. Then there were the [Maid] and [Poison] Skills, both of which presented themselves as intriguing wild cards. The [Poison] Skill, in particular, was intriguingly distinct from its game counterpart. Unlike the game where it was more straightforward, here it involved some sort of resistance element, I assumed, and awarded experience for exposure, suggesting a depth and versatility that hadn¡¯t existed in the original game¡¯s version of the Skill. As for [Maid], while my curiosity about its Perk-Tree was undoubtedly high, it didn''t seem immediately relevant to my current missions. It seemed like a Skill that I could develop with some dedicated effort as well, primarily involving cleaning and maintaining order, which didn¡¯t require any special circumstances to train to begin with. Faced with the challenging decision of choosing between the last three remaining Skills, [First-Aid], [Slicing], and [Deception], I weighed their respective benefits carefully. Each Skill presented its own unique advantages, particularly in the context of the tasks Mr. Stirling had assigned me. [First-Aid] was an obvious choice for practical reasons; it would be invaluable if I sustained any injuries. Its utility in a world as unpredictable as this one was undeniable. Similarly, [Slicing] seemed to be a more advanced form of injury management, potentially vital if I found myself in a situation with more severe wounds. Then there was [Deception], a skill that appealed to the more strategic part of my mind. It promised the ability to navigate tricky situations with a bit more guile and finesse, something I definitely felt like I could use right about now. The thought of being able to manipulate scenarios to my advantage was tempting, especially considering the nature of the covert tasks ahead. The fear of missing out on the benefits of the other Skills nagged at me, however, making the decision all the more difficult. ''If only I could distribute a single Skill Point among all three,'' I mused, half-jokingly, to the unresponsive System. But deep down, I knew I had to commit to just one choice. What would be the most prudent and immediately beneficial Skill to enhance at this critical juncture? The decision weighed heavily on me, as I pondered my options carefully. Amidst the three compelling choices, [Slicing] stood out as the most challenging Skill to level up through regular means. I contemplated the notion of training for [Slicing], yet the pathway to its mastery seemed clouded in mystery. It was a Skill that, with my current knowledge and experience, I couldn''t fathom a straightforward method to practise or improve, especially considering its complexity and depth. My brief observation of Dr. Maltrick''s work, while insightful during Gabriel''s treatment, wasn''t a feasible or sustainable means to learn [Slicing] as a whole. The decision ultimately hinged on two pivotal considerations: The practical use of the Skill and the inherent difficulty in levelling it up. [Slicing], with its implications of handling severe injuries, appeared to be a critical Skill, potentially lifesaving in dire circumstances. The utility it could offer in the unpredictable scenarios I might face, especially given the nature of Mr. Stirling¡¯s assignments, was invaluable. Moreover, the inherent challenge in acquiring and developing this Skill independently made it an ideal candidate for the use of the Skill Point. With these factors in mind, I resolved to allocate my Skill Point to [Slicing]. I hoped that this investment would not only provide me with immediate benefits in handling critical injuries, drawing from Dr. Maltrick¡¯s expertise, but also pave the way for me to gain experience in this field on my own going forward. After all, relying on encounters with professional Slicers for training was not a viable long-term strategy at all. ¡°[Slicing] it is. There¡¯s no logical other choice I should go for right now¡­¡± I voiced my thoughts out loud, making sure that my gut-feeling was not rebelling at it, which it didn¡¯t. With a quick allocation and confirmation, I locked in my choice for [Slicing] to get the Skill Point applied.
[System]: 1 Skill Point(s) applied to [Slicing] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Slicing] Skill. [System]: [Slicing] has reached level 1.
The moment I allocated the Skill Point to [Slicing], a surge of information flooded into my consciousness. It was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a torrent of intricate details about human anatomy and emergency medical procedures. My mind absorbed the knowledge at an astonishing rate, each new piece of information fitting seamlessly into place. The basics of human anatomy were laid out before me in meticulous detail. I gained a comprehensive understanding of the body''s structure, the interplay of muscles and bones, the delicate network of nerves, and the vital pathways of blood vessels. It was like having a detailed map of the human body imprinted in my mind, each organ, muscle, and bone clear and distinct, yet I could tell that there was so, so much more that hadn¡¯t even been touched. I learned the essentials of suturing and stitching wounds next. The System provided me with various techniques for closing wounds efficiently and effectively, from simple cuts to more complex lacerations. I understood the importance of minimising tissue damage and proper procedures for promoting healing, the choice of suture materials, and the methods to ensure sterility and prevent infection. Removing foreign entities from wounds was another critical aspect covered at the same time. I learned how to safely and swiftly extract shrapnel, bullets, and other objects embedded in flesh, minimising further injury and preparing the wound for proper healing. This knowledge was going to be undoubtedly vital for field emergencies, where immediate medical attention was often the difference between life and death. Something like Gabe¡¯s injury, I could likely stitch up now and prevent any immediate blood loss. While internal injuries were still very much beyond me, at least he wouldn¡¯t immediately bleed out, should something similar happen again. Lastly, the System introduced me to the rudiments of interfacing with cybernetic enhancements. This part of the knowledge was extremely basic, focusing on the fundamental concepts of how cybernetics connect with the human nervous system. While it wasn''t enough to perform complex cybernetic surgeries, it provided me with an understanding of how to potentially disconnect a simple cybernetic limb without causing too much irreparable harm to either the technology or the body in question. The entire download was like a crash course in emergency field medicine, tailored for situations where time and resources were limited. It was, quite honestly, overwhelming to the point that it easily rivalled the level of knowledge I had gained from [Cooking] and [Programming] alike. I was glad to be lying on my bed, for I definitely knew I would not have been able to stay standing amidst the torrent of information crashing into my brain. Overwhelmed yet invigorated by the sudden influx of knowledge from the System, I couldn''t help but feel a mix of astonishment and gratitude. ''This is incredible,'' I thought. ''The speed at which I''m absorbing this information is just unreal.'' Normally, acquiring such medical knowledge would require months, if not years of dedicated study and practice, but here I was, gaining a foundational understanding in mere moments. Despite the overwhelming nature of the information, I was acutely aware of the advantages it presented. ''Now I have the means to actually gain experience for [Slicing] in practical situations,'' I reflected. The thought of needing a serious injury to level up the skill was not exactly comforting, but it underscored the real-world applicability of what I had just learned. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ''It¡¯s a grim thought, hoping for injuries, but at least I¡¯m more prepared for them now,'' I reasoned. My thoughts then shifted to the possibility of extracting cybernetics from defeated enemies going forward. It was something that was quite common practice in the game itself, but it was likely going to be quite different in real-life. The idea of scavenging cybernetics from scavs was not only a potential means of levelling up my [Slicing] skill but also a way to possibly earn extra credits. ''Even basic Tier 0 cybernetics could be of value,'' I considered. These entry-level augmentations were standard for many civilians, so there would always be some market for them, even if they were not the most advanced or valuable. This line of thought, however, brought back memories of Gabe''s injury, igniting a spark of anger and determination within me. ''If I encounter those responsible again, I''ll be ready,'' I promised myself. The idea of turning my revenge into an opportunity for both Skill development and financial gain was a silver lining in an otherwise dangerous and volatile environment. I took a moment to steady myself, feeling both equipped and empowered by the System''s capabilities that it continued to provide. ''I''m truly blessed to have this System,'' I acknowledged with a bit of self-reflection, ''It¡¯s a game-changer in every sense¡­'' Finishing up my administrative duties for the day, I closed all the System interfaces and considered what I should be working on for the rest of the day. The completion of the first data collection task for Mr. Stirling had gone much smoother and quicker than I''d anticipated, leaving me with an unexpected surplus of free time. As I pondered how best to utilise this rare opportunity, my thoughts naturally drifted towards Skill development. I re-scanned my Skills list, considering which ones might provide the most immediate benefit for my upcoming missions. I quickly realised that none of the Skills directly relevant to Mr. Stirling''s missions were close enough to level up to make a difference in the short term. However, [First-Aid] caught my eye. It was tantalisingly close to achieving the first level, which would undoubtedly unlock some vital knowledge, one way or another. Only 100xp was needed, and I found myself contemplating a somewhat drastic course of action to bridge this gap. ¡®I can probably sneak out 100xp over the rest of the day¡­ Just need a wound,¡¯ I mused, while idly touching the RaZ near me. ¡®I can definitely do that.¡¯ Unwilling to waste much of the rare free-time I had managed to sneak out thanks to the quick and easy delivery mission, I used the freshly sharpened RaZ and cut a few wounds into my upper thighs with practised ease. I knew that this was the least likely place to be seen by anyone that I wouldn¡¯t want to see. A rush of the familiar piercing and stinging pain made itself known, heightening my senses, accelerating my heartbeat and giving me a feeling of strange euphoria the moment the initial pain ebbed away. Some parts of it dangerously reminded me of the agony I had just endured the earlier day courtesy of the NeuroCorpse. A certain part of me urged me to continue, to inflict more wounds on myself, but I quickly drowned it out. ¡®That¡¯s more than enough, Sera! Keep your shit together. You¡¯re long past this. It¡¯s purely for experience, nothing else,¡¯ I reminded myself intently, forcibly putting away the freshly bloodied RaZ. ¡®It cut really nicely though, I do have to say¡­ [Sharpen] has really done some amazing work on the durasteel.¡¯ Reflecting on it, a sense of solemnity washed over me. I recognized the need for greater caution if I were to repeat such methods for gaining experience in the future. In my past life, despite some severe hardships early on, I had battled and subdued many inner demons. However, it had long become evident that these demons were never truly vanquished, merely dormant at best. I hadn¡¯t expected this issue to crop up again at this time, but I also understood why it had happened, the moment it did. The unsettling experience with NeuroCorpse the prior day had seemingly shattered a mental barrier I had painstakingly built over the years. This barrier had been my defence, keeping the darker thoughts and impulses at a safe distance. But the moment I pressed the blade of the RaZ against my skin, a chilling realisation struck me¡ªI was treading on dangerous ground. The demons of my past, which I had so fervently hoped were extinguished, were lurking just beneath the surface, as real and threatening as ever. It was a stark reminder that I couldn''t afford to let my guard down; the battle against these demons was ongoing, and I needed to stay vigilant, regardless of whether I was in Sera¡¯s body or my own. Applying some rudimentary first-aid, using a new can of spray-bandage that Gabe had acquired the previous day from his workplace, I decided to put the issue out of my mind for now. ¡®Just gonna let this heal up for the next few hours, then clean the wound, re-dress it and hope that¡¯s enough for an experience drop,¡¯ I internally planned, before laying back down on the bed. I closed my eyes for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. ¡®Fuck¡­¡¯ I cursed internally, ¡®What are you doing, Sera? Keep yourself together. It¡¯s a whole new world, a whole new body, a whole new situation¡­ You¡¯ve got a System, you¡¯re not alone, because you have a family¡ªas strange and sadistic as some of their members are¡ªand you¡¯re as safe as one could ask for in a cyberpunk world as a result. Just¡­ keep it together.¡¯ I took a few more minutes of time to do a quick session of [Meditation], the 4th level that I had recently acquired, helping me to centre my thoughts and calm my beating heart, as well as purge some of the adrenaline from my system. Once I felt like I was mostly functional again, I decided to take it easy for the rest of the day and plugged in the SPG-01 shard into my neck slot, removing the restricted access shard that I had just realised was still inside. ¡®I wonder what I should do with this one¡­? I¡¯ll just give it back to Mr. Stirling when I next see him, I guess,¡¯ I thought, before putting it into one of the pockets of my Operator-outfit nearby. Activating the SPG-01 shard, I dove back into my own private cyberspace to continue my lessons with Kill Joy about [Programming] and [Netrunning] for the next few hours.
By the time the rigorous lesson with Kill Joy wrapped up after several intensive hours, I could feel my mental energy waning. Today''s session had been particularly challenging, suggesting I was nearing the completion of the initial guided lesson. Reflecting on the rich content of the SPG-01 shard, I once again felt severely grateful for Gabriel''s investment. ''This shard''s knowledge is invaluable. I owe you big time, Gabe. I''ll make the most of it and find a way to repay you soon, I promise,'' I thought, disconnecting from cyberspace and returning to the reality of my bedroom. Curious about my progress, I checked the accumulated System Notifications, eager to see the fruits of my labour:
[System]: 500xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
Seeing the numbers, I couldn''t help but smile. ¡®Another session like this and I¡¯ll unlock my first [Programming] Perk¡­ That¡¯s going to be exceptionally handy going forward! I¡¯ll have to consider which one to go for fairly soon, then,¡¯ I mused, my mind filled with anticipation and excitement. Perks were truly the most amazing part of the System to me. They granted a specific capability in an instant, that would otherwise likely take an entire other Skill to master. It made sense that they were the hardest to acquire from normal level ups too, as a result. ¡®I¡¯ll also have to unlock [Quick-Hacks] soon¡­ They should be part of the second guided lesson from Kill Joy, so I¡¯ll probably just wait for that, but I can¡¯t lose my goals out of my sight: Becoming a somewhat capable runner. It¡¯s the easiest way to make some quick creds and repay Gabe.¡¯ After carefully placing the SPG-01 shard back in its case and hiding spot, I stood up from my bed, taking a moment to stretch and reawaken my muscles after the prolonged period of stillness during my dive into cyberspace. My thoughts were clear, focused on the task ahead. "Time to check those cuts," I murmured, heading to the bathroom with the spray-can in hand. Removing the spray bandages and washing the cuts, I felt a rush of memories threaten to crash down upon me. It was something I had done many, many times in another life and the motions felt uncomfortably familiar, despite the different circumstances. ¡®Stay focused, Sera. Just the experience. That¡¯s all this is for,¡¯ I reminded myself, as I carefully applied another patch of the spray bandages on the freshly cleaned cuts. No sooner had I finished than the sound of a System notification chimed in my head, signalling a Skill level up. A wave of relief washed over me, a tangible reward for the effort and a reminder of the progress I was making.
[System]: 200xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: [First-Aid] has reached level 1.
Immediately, I felt the G.E.M.A. System¡¯s knowledge flood my mind. It was like flipping through a detailed textbook, with each page bringing a new understanding. The first module covered the ABCs of first aid: Airway, Breathing, and Circulation. I learned how to assess if a person''s airway was blocked and the steps to clear it, ensuring oxygen could flow freely. Techniques like the head-tilt-chin-lift manoeuvre were now clear and instinctual, their movements ingrained in my muscle-memory as if I had done them countless times before. Breathing techniques were next. I grasped the fundamentals of checking for normal breathing, using rescue breaths when necessary, and the importance of keeping a person''s breathing at an even timbre during respiratory distress. The third module dealt with circulation, highlighting the significance of controlling bleeding, recognizing the signs of shock, and the proper application of pressure to slow blood loss. Wound care formed a significant part of the download. I learned about cleaning and dressing various types of cuts, understanding the difference between a scrape, a laceration, and a puncture wound, as well as the differences when it came to dealing with them. The System detailed how to clean a wound with mild soap, disinfectant and water, as well as other, Neon Dragons-specific anti-infection agents, apply an antibiotic ointment, and dress it properly to avoid infections after the fact. Managing bruises and sprains was another essential aspect. The R.I.C.E. method (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) was now second nature to me, along with the knowledge of when to apply cold or warm compresses to injuries. Bandaging techniques varied from simple to complex, including how to create a sling for arm injuries and how to wrap sprained ankles or wrists for added support. It also dealt with more cyberpunk-specific issues that no first-aid class of my previous life would have ever considered, such as cybernetic malfunctions that affected the nervous system and how to disable them, should it lead to an emergency. Lastly, the System touched upon the initial management of common emergencies like choking, fainting, and burns. For each scenario, it provided a step-by-step approach: From assessment to the immediate response required. Though basic, the knowledge was frighteningly comprehensive and laid a solid foundation for dealing with a variety of common injuries and emergencies, equipping me with the confidence to handle minor medical issues. Coupled with the recent acquisition of knowledge from the [Slicing] Skill, I found myself unexpectedly well-equipped to handle emergency treatments. The combination of these two skill sets had significantly bolstered my confidence in managing urgent medical situations, should they unexpectedly present themselves. I found myself sprawled out on the grimy floor of the bathroom a few moments later, my head still spinning as if I had woken up with a bad cold. ¡°Ugghhh,¡± a groan escaped me, as I sat back up, leaning my back against the door. ¡°Definitely overdid it today in the mental department, didn¡¯t I¡­?¡± I muttered, before applying a cold, wet towel to my forehead. The splitting headache that had manifested quickly eased up as the coldness seemed to sap its energy, granting a small bit of relief. I vowed to take it a bit more slowly with major first-level knowledge downloads in the future, not wanting to go through something like this again, if it could be avoided. Yet, I couldn¡¯t help but be satisfied with the day¡¯s exceptional progress. ¡®[Slicing] and [First-Aid] at level 1 is a massive step forward¡­ If anything happens to Gabe or me, I can now make sure that we don¡¯t just bleed out immediately. I¡¯ll need to improve on both to really get a grasp on emergency treatment, but for now, it definitely provides a safety net that I find difficult not to be happy with for now,¡¯ I mused, a sense of well placed accomplishment radiating through me. Feeling invigorated by my recent skill advancements, I contemplated my next steps. "Maybe there''s something productive I can do with the remaining hours of the day," I thought, reclining on my bed. However, it quickly became apparent that my brain, taxed from the intensive knowledge downloads, was in no state for further exertion. A splitting headache had made any further activities seem impossible. "Perhaps resting is the best course of action for now," I conceded to myself, feeling the throbbing pain in my head intensify with every passing moment. The apartment was still devoid of Gabriel and Oliver''s presence as well, leaving me in a quiet solitude that seemed ideal for rest. Despite the discomfort, I decided not to let the remaining hours slip by unproductively. With [Meditation] having reached level 4, it offered a perfect opportunity to work on once again enhancing my Intuition and Ego without straining my already overworked mind. ¡®No sense in wasting this valuable time,¡¯ I thought, managing a smile through the pain. Settling into a comfortable position, I closed my eyes and began the familiar rhythmic breathing of meditation. Surprisingly, despite the headache, I found myself easily slipping into a tranquil meditative state for the rest of the evening... Chapter 41 - The Big Two The next morning rolled around with its usual lustre as my eyes fluttered open and a bout of derealised confusion hit me dead-on.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
Shaking my head to regain some semblance of focus, I started preparing myself for the day ahead. While I did so, I checked the leftover System Notifications from the previous evening.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute.
As I attempted to tame my unruly hair, reflecting the unique skyless-cyan and abyss-black hues of my recent hairstyle change, that were now looking more like an abstract piece of art than a hair-style, I couldn''t help but muse over the slow progression of my [Meditation] skill. ¡®Levelling up to 5 is going to take absolutely forever, god damn,¡¯ I thought, while trying to manage the wild strands into something resembling order. The apartment was quiet, with Gabriel already gone for the day, allowing me to monopolise the mirror by our door. While idly arranging my hair, I pondered aloud about my plans for the day. "Mr. Stirling doesn''t need me today or tomorrow, so what should I focus on?" The answer seemed clear: more experience, more Skills, more Perks. It was the driving force behind my relentless pursuit since arriving in this world. I hadn''t taken a real rest day since my arrival, yet I felt surprisingly energised. ¡®Is it just my gamer''s grind mentality, finding thrill in skill advancements? Or is the [Rest Function] playing a part in keeping me fatigue-free¡­?¡¯ I wondered, as I finally got my hair to a somewhat satisfactory state. With the most important part of the day out of the way, it was time to get into the daily groove once again. Throwing on my usual exercising wear for the morning routine, I got to work¡­
After completing my daily run around the floor, I hopped into the shower, eager to wash away the day''s exertion. As the warm water cascaded over me, I called up the day''s workout gains on the System Interface to review today''s progress with a broad grin on my face.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 400xp. [System]: 600xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: [Athletics] has reached level 3. Gained one [Athletics] Perk Point. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: Edge Attribute has reached 3. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 100xp. [System]: [Stealth] has reached level 3. Gained one [Stealth] Perk Point. [System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
The reason for my great mood was immediately apparent: I had finally unlocked two additional Perks¡ªand not just any at that! It was [Stealth] and [Athletics], which, unless you were trying to go for a supremely strange build, were two of the most important Skills in the entire game¡ªor now, my life. Eager to get a headstart on trying to figure out which one I wanted to go for, I pulled up the [Athletics] Perk Tree first.
[Endurance Runner] (Athletics) Never tire again! You gain the ability to conserve stamina during movement, allowing you to walk, run, sprint, and jump for significantly longer durations without tiring.
[Wall Runner] (Athletics) How is that even physically possible?! You gain the ability to wall run, allowing you to traverse vertical surfaces for brief periods, opening up new pathways and unexpected angles for attacks.
[Steady Breather] (Athletics) Have they actually ever taken a breath? You gain the ability to have your body''s oxygen efficiency reach remarkable levels, enabling you to hold your breath for extended periods and thrive on minimal amounts of oxygen.
[Cat¡¯s Grace] (Athletics) Land like a feather, even from great heights! You gain the ability to expertly manage the impact of a fall, significantly diminishing the damage incurred from high drops, provided you are agile and able to manoeuvre your body during a portion of the descent and upon immediate impact.
[Combat Slide] (Athletics) Slippery like an eel! You gain the ability to execute a low-friction slide after sprinting, enabling you to swiftly and smoothly evade danger or reposition yourself strategically in any situation.
As I perused the extensive array of options within the [Athletics] Perk Tree, I felt the daunting weight of decision-making. ¡®I want all of these,¡¯ I mused internally, giving myself a brisk cheek slap to refocus. ¡®Okay, focus. What Perk do I genuinely need, not just want?¡¯ Having the Perks mirror those from the game Neon Dragons was a significant benefit, as I had already contemplated which initial Perks would be most beneficial in my current circumstances. Yet, standing before the actual decision proved more challenging than anticipated. The [Athletics] Perk Tree was notably abundant, evident from its offering of five choices instead of the usual two to three, or even the less common four options I had encountered in other Skills. This variety only intensified my dilemma over which path to choose. The initial five options in the [Athletics] Perk Tree presented themselves in two distinct categories: Universally applicable Perks and action-specific Perks. The first category, encompassing general utility, included [Endurance Runner] and [Steady Breather], while the latter category, focusing on specific actions, comprised the remaining three choices. [Endurance Runner], despite its seemingly mundane nature on paper, emerged as the potentially optimal choice for delivering consistent benefits. Its ability to extend my running endurance would not only enhance my daily training regimen but also furnish me with crucial escape capabilities in emergencies, as it extended the duration I could sustain a full-speed sprint as well. On the other hand, [Steady Breather] offered broad applicability with a particular focus on hazardous environments. This Perk could prove invaluable in life-threatening situations such as strangulation, suffocation, or drowning, offering a chance to outlast and potentially overcome such perilous scenarios, given the right strategy. While I obviously didn¡¯t intend on getting into a situation that required this Perk, I didn¡¯t exactly have the benefit of hindsight should I get into one. This was the main issue with this being my real-life rather than a game. I had to assume that there were no reloads, no second chances, at all times and make my decisions based on that. [Wall Runner] was an interesting one, in that it quite literally defied physics in strange and unexpected ways¡ªat least in the game. I could only assume that it would work similarly in this reality, as just about everything else had been a rather 1:1 or 1:X>1 conversion so far. The only things that hadn¡¯t been the exact same had been vastly improved in this world, so it was prudent to assume that this Perk would be similar. It allowed you to walk, run and sprint on walls for a certain time period. In the game, this time period was determined by a combination of your [Athletics] Skill and [Body] Attribute, meaning that it would grow alongside you, to a certain degree. I could only assume that this also applied to the two aforementioned Perks as well, as they all had a duration-based element to them. On the other hand, [Cat¡¯s Grace] and [Combat Slide] were categorised in my head as critical "oh shit" Perks. Given my medium-term objective to become an Operator, these Perks held significant potential value. While their immediate utility might not be evident, they promised an added layer of security in various scenarios, potentially tipping the scales in life-or-death situations. Both Perks offered distinct advantages: [Cat¡¯s Grace] enhanced agility and balance, potentially saving one from mortal falls or slips, while [Combat Slide] provided tactical mobility in combat situations. These features could prove indispensable in the unpredictable world of an Operator and the myriad of different tasks that they had to be ready for. As I pondered the various options in the [Athletics] Perk Tree, my frustration only seemed to grow. I found myself unable to eliminate even a single Perk from consideration, let alone decisively choose one. "Why is this so difficult? Why can''t I just select them all at once? What''s the rationale behind this three-level restriction for a single Perk, System?!" I muttered in exasperation. Unsurprisingly, the System offered no response to my vexation. Deciding to take a break from the [Athletics] dilemma, I switched my focus to the [Stealth] Perk Tree. This change of pace felt necessary as I stepped out of the shower, beginning to prepare for another day assisting Mr. Shori. Maybe exploring a different set of options would provide a fresh perspective or at least a temporary respite from the challenge of choosing an [Athletics] Perk.
[Camouflage] (Stealth) Like a chameleon! You gain the ability to seamlessly blend with your environment when you stay motionless, greatly reducing the chances of being detected by others.
[Quick Disguise] (Stealth) And for my next trick, I shall become this guy! You gain the ability to rapidly identify which parts of an attire is important for a disguise and dress in the garb of defeated foes, enabling you to seamlessly integrate yourself among them.
[Lightfoot] (Stealth) Where the hell did they go?! You gain the ability to move without leaving any tracks or traces on standard terrain. In challenging terrains like marshes or mud, your presence is significantly less discernible, leaving only faint traces behind.
[Escape Artist] (Stealth) This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.Houdini would be proud! You gain the ability to escape from most bonds or restraints with ease¡ªonly high-tier equipment resists your escape attempts.
Under my breath, I let out a frustrated "Fuck," feeling overwhelmed by the difficulty in choosing from the [Stealth] Perks. I had wanted something easy to choose from, but had completely forgotten how good the [Stealth] Perk Tree actually was. They were reminiscent of those from the game, each with proven worth in a multitude of scenarios, intensifying the challenge of deciding which one to leave behind. As I contemplated my options, a thought struck me, offering a potential solution to narrow down my choices. ''It''s almost certain that [Escape Artist] is part of the [Contortion] Skill as well, isn''t it?'' I pondered, hoping to eliminate redundancies in my decision-making process. Yet, this consideration only led to further uncertainty. ''But what if the [Contortion] Skill offers even better options? What if I miss out on something absolutely game-changing?!'' This line of reasoning did little to ease my choice paralysis, leaving me still mired in indecision. As I contemplated my choices, I decided to methodically analyse each Stealth Perk, hoping it would clarify which ones to prioritise and which to defer to a later level. [Camouflage] was remarkably straightforward: Stand still and become significantly less visible. This Perk had the potential to be highly effective in evading danger or infiltrating restricted areas. Despite its simplicity, its utility in various situations made it a strong contender for either an immediate choice or a future investment. [Quick Disguise], however, seemed more specialised and less immediately useful. It relied on acquiring a uniform or attire, typically from an incapacitated adversary, to be effective. While it offered enhanced infiltration capabilities compared to [Camouflage], the prerequisite of needing specific clothing rendered it less versatile. This limitation made [Quick Disguise] a less appealing option for my first choice in the Stealth Perk lineup, given the constraints and situational nature of its application. [Lightfoot] in the [Stealth] Tree clearly paralleled [Endurance Runner] from the [Athletics] Tree in its constant, unrestrictive benefits. This Perk would make my movements quieter and less detectable, a significant advantage in avoiding detection or trailing. "This would have been incredibly useful during Mr. Shori''s task," I thought, as I finished dressing for work. Though the decision was tough, my commitment to Mr. Shori and the promise of the day''s tasks, and experience rewards, awaited. Exiting my apartment, the door locking securely behind me, my mind lingered on the final Perk, [Escape Artist]. This Perk stood out as particularly game-changing; it promised the ability to escape from any restraints considered below high-tier¡ªspecifically, anything below a tier 6, if the designations of tiers were the same as in the game. The implications were immense, suggesting near-certain escape from most scenarios where I might be captured. Considering the unlikely scenario of facing someone with access to high-tier restraints, [Escape Artist] presented itself as an incredibly powerful tool for ensuring my freedom and safety in a multitude of situations. There were only two potential downsides of the [Escape Artist] Perk that immediately emerged in my mind: Firstly, the Perk''s utility hinged on being restrained, an eventuality I hoped to avoid to begin with. Secondly, there was a possibility that the [Contortion] Skill Tree might offer the same or a similar Perk. With just 200xp needed to unlock the next tier of [Contortion], which would allow me to check the entire first-tier of Perks it had to offer, this left me in a state of uncertainty about whether to choose [Escape Artist] for the [Stealth] Skill. My shift at Mr. Shori''s wouldn''t allow me to gather the needed experience immediately, so a decision on [Escape Artist] would simply have to wait. In the interim, my inclination leaned towards either [Lightfoot] or [Camouflage] as my preliminary choices for the [Stealth] Perk. These seemed the most immediately beneficial, assuming [Escape Artist] was also present in the [Contortion] Skill Tree. If it turned out not to be, I would then have to reassess and choose among those three options. [Quick Disguise], despite its potential uses, didn''t strike me as immediately necessary or fitting with my current needs and plans. For now, it was off the table as a primary choice for the Perk. I ultimately decided to consider my Perk choices over the next few hours, while I worked my usual shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s, then return home and level up [Contortion] to its first level, in order to gauge the necessity for [Escape Artist] to be chosen right away¡­
After I finished my shift at Mr. Shori''s, which ended up being very uneventful, I found myself heading home, eager to embark on the plans I had formulated earlier. During the ride up to the 43rd floor, my thoughts drifted to Aki. I had inquired about her with Mr. Shori, curious about any interactions they might have had. True to his character, Mr. Shori shared that Aki had been inquisitive about me, a fact that piqued my interest given her behaviour during our encounter. Mr. Shori hadn¡¯t really told her much, just that I was a good worker and kind friend¡ªwhich definitely hadn¡¯t ended up making me blush¡ªand that she should stop by again if she ended up being hungry or had any other worries. He had encouraged her to visit again if she ever needed food or support, a gesture that felt very typical of his uncommonly generous nature. Aki had simply thanked him for his kindness and generosity and disappeared into the crowd. As the elevator continued its ascent, I couldn''t help but hope for Aki''s well-being. ¡®I really hope she¡¯s alright¡­ The way she was absolutely terrified of me, simply because I offered a free meal, makes me feel like she has a seriously troubling past. Maybe even issues at home that might make Valeria¡¯s treatment look like child¡¯s play to her¡­ There¡¯s definitely worse things parents can do to a child than feed them non-lethal poisons,¡¯ I reminiscenced, a cold shudder running down my back and sending a lurch through my stomach. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t I know that to be true, huh¡­?¡¯ Shaking off those unsettling thoughts, to try and focus back onto the issues at hand, I slapped my cheeks once again. They were really getting a workout today. ¡®Alright, back to the matter at hand: Perks. Let¡¯s see what I can come up with,¡¯ I re-focused, as I stepped out of the elevator and quickly made my way back to the apartment. On the way, I also quickly checked my gains from the shift.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
The anticipation of nearing the next level in both Intuition and [Cooking] buoyed my spirits as I stepped into the apartment. The prospect of [Cooking] reaching its third level was particularly thrilling, as it promised another upcoming Perk selection. A spontaneous giggle of excitement bubbled up from within me, my mood lightening at the thought of acquiring more Perks in the days ahead. "This is very much addicting," I mused, comparing the experience to getting hunting to 99, "but this time, it''s my actual life that''s levelling up!" Without delay, I shed my work attire and slipped into my workout clothes. I was determined to push [Contortion] over the finish line to its first level. As I contorted my body into various stretches, each movement felt strangely purposeful rather than simply trying to warm up my muscles in the morning as it drew me closer to my goal with each stretch. After about twenty focused minutes of stretching, the familiar and gratifying chime of a level-up resonated in my mind, bringing a sense of achievement and satisfaction.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: [Contortion] has reached level 1.
As the [Contortion] Skill reached its first level, I was instantly flooded with an array of basic yet vital information crucial for a budding contortionist. The knowledge seeped into my understanding seamlessly, as if I had always known it, yet knew its novelty. Firstly, I gained a comprehensive understanding of the importance of joint health and flexibility. The System detailed techniques for safely increasing the range of motion in key areas such as the shoulders, hips, and spine. It emphasised the balance between flexibility and strength, teaching me exercises to maintain joint stability while pushing the limits of flexibility. This was critical to prevent injuries that could arise from overextension or improper technique, but also offered avenues to increase difficulty for increased exp/hour rates. Another fundamental aspect was breathing control. I learned how controlled breathing is integral to contortion, not just for relaxation, but for enhancing flexibility. Deep, diaphragmatic breathing techniques were outlined, which could help in easing into more complex poses and holding them longer without discomfort. Strangely enough, parts of this knowledge had already been covered with the recent [Meditation] upgrade, but for a wholly different purpose. Breathing itself seemed to be a lot more in-depth of a topic than I had ever given it credit for. Maybe the fire breathing technique wasn¡¯t just Unlimited Budget Works showing off once again, but actually had a real use¡­ Lastly, I was introduced to the concept of progressive stretching¡ªexactly the type of thing I had been looking for, in order to make sure I wouldn¡¯t hurt myself during my rigorous exercising on the daily! The information laid out a structured approach to gradually increase my flexibility over time. It started with basic stretches, emphasising the importance of consistency and patience, and gradually moved to some slightly more advanced poses. This foundational knowledge of [Contortion] felt like unlocking a new realm of physical capabilities, allowing me to explore movements and poses I had never even thought possible. Especially considering my old body¡¯s state, I never would have even attempted this to begin with. But with Sera¡¯s body and my ever-increasing physical Attributes, I honestly couldn¡¯t wait to try all of this out. That, however, would have to wait for later, as I needed to finish up my current main goal: Choosing Perks for both [Athletics] and [Stealth]. Quickly, before I managed to get side-tracked again, I pulled up the [Contortion] Perk Tree, to take a look at what would be in store once it reached level 3.
[Coil Spring] [Requirement: Level 3 [Contortion]] Cobrastriiiiiike! You gain the ability to contort and compress your body in unique ways, significantly enhancing the height and distance of your jumps from a crouched, coiled position.
[Narrow Twist] [Requirement: Level 3 [Contortion]] Dear god, they¡¯re like a fucking slime! You gain the ability to twist and contort your body to slip through the smallest of openings, navigating spaces others would consider utterly impassable.
[Slippery Body] [Requirement: Level 3 [Contortion]] Nobody can keep you locked down! You gain the ability to wriggle free from nearly any physical restraint or hold actively placed upon you by somebody else.
[Escape Artist] [Requirement: Level 3 [Contortion]] Houdini would be proud! You gain the ability to escape from most bonds or restraints with ease¡ªonly high-tier equipment resists your escape attempts.
Upon reviewing the [Contortion] Skill''s Perk Tree, a wave of resigned acceptance washed over me, accompanied by a long sigh. "Haaa..." I exhaled, both overwhelmed and excited by the unique Perks that lay before me, none of which were part of the original Neon Dragons game. The first Perk, [Coil Spring], immediately caught my attention. It promised an enhanced ability to access hard-to-reach places without extensive [Climbing] training. The potential synergy with [Cat¡¯s Grace] from the [Athletics] Perk Tree was particularly intriguing, hinting at a combination that would significantly expand my mobility and exploratory capabilities, without the risk of accidentally falling to my death. Next, [Narrow Twist] presented a fascinating prospect. It seemed to offer a kind of flexibility that would allow me to navigate through extremely tight spaces, much like a cat squeezing through any gap larger than its head. The thought of being able to infiltrate or escape through seemingly impossible routes was both thrilling and daunting. The last Perk, [Slippery Body], seemed to be the perfect complement to [Escape Artist]. It suggested an almost supernatural ability to evade physical restraint. The idea of being nearly impossible to hold down or confine, unless faced with extraordinarily high-level restraints, was an empowering thought. This Perk could potentially make me one of the most elusive individuals around¡ªby a lot. Together, these Perks painted a picture of a highly agile, almost untouchable individual, capable of feats that would defy common expectations. The only limitation seemed to be the ever-present, mysterious threshold set by the System to maintain some semblance of balance in the later stages of the game. Even Vega would likely be impressed! The main issue, however, was that this meant that [Escape Artist] was now an even more enticing option for the [Stealth] Perk Tree, rather than eliminating it from the options, as I had hoped. I would have to choose something, that much was certain. ¡®Fuuuck, I really need some extra Perk Points¡­ Makes sense, since they¡¯re incredibly powerful, but come on. You really don¡¯t have to make this so haaard,¡¯ I once again complained to the System, as I threw myself on the bed¡ªafter taking off my workout clothes, of course. Nobody wanted a sweaty bed. ¡®I¡¯ll just have to do some serious thinking, I guess. What Perks do I need right now and which ones can wait for level 6 or later¡­?¡¯ As I considered the importance of each one and weighed them against each other to try and make a decision, I also returned to an old Skill that I hadn¡¯t trained or done anything with since the first day of me being in this world: [Juggling]. It helped keep my body moving and, at least I wanted to believe so, helped me make a decision. The infinite supply of sockballs that original Sera had in her drawers were once again coming in handy. Like that, I spent the next hours carefully considering my Perk choices¡­ Chapter 42 - Convergence I juggled until my arms started hurting from overexertion. This physical activity, oddly enough, had helped me focus on the challenging task of selecting Perks, which had turned out to be more taxing than I had initially anticipated. Gradually, my juggling slowed, and I began to stow away the makeshift sock-balls into the cluttered realm of my clothing cupboard, a seemingly endless abyss of socks, that multiplied on a minute- by-minute basis, filling every conceivable nook and cranny inside with more and more socks. With the juggling balls safely tucked away, I had finally felt a sense of clarity about my Perk choices. I returned to the comfort of my bed, gingerly massaging my tired arms, my thoughts now more organised. ¡°For [Stealth], it has to be [Lightfoot],¡± I concluded with a sense of certainty. The allure of a Perk that inherently lessened my chances of being tracked was too significant to ignore. I reasoned that while advancing in [Stealth] would naturally enhance my inconspicuousness, a System-given Perk like [Lightfoot] likely came with added, almost magical benefits. I imagined it would do something extraordinary, like erasing footprints that, under normal circumstances, should have been impossible to hide. This decision was the culmination of an exhaustive process of elimination, wherein I had mentally simulated a variety of hypothetical scenarios. All the other Perks had fallen flat in one or two of them, for one reason or another, yet [Lightfoot] had managed to get through all of them with at least a passing grade. I fully realise that it might not have been the most dazzling or potent Perk on its own, of course. Indeed, in certain aspects, it very much paled in comparison to the other options available in the [Stealth] tree. However, its true value lay in its wide range of applicability. Unlike some of the more situational Perks like [Camouflage], which could lose their usefulness in specific scenarios, [Lightfoot] promised to be consistently beneficial, regardless of the circumstances I might find myself in. It was a Perk that would always play a role, never becoming redundant or irrelevant. At this stage in my journey, this kind of all-encompassing utility was what I needed most. Given the nature of my upcoming assignments, which involved more corporate espionage, a well-rounded approach to stealth was crucial. I couldn¡¯t afford to focus too narrowly on one specific aspect of [Stealth]. A Perk that provided a general enhancement in all situations was imperative, and [Lightfoot] uniquely fit this requirement among the choices I had. Feeling confident in my decision, I didn¡¯t hesitate. I quickly accessed the Perk selection interface and firmly selected [Lightfoot], making it a permanent addition to my growing repertoire of Perks.
[System]: [Lightfoot] (Stealth) Perk acquired.
As I finally put to rest the first part of this taxing decision-making process, I couldn''t help but exhale deeply. The relief was palpable, but so was the realisation of the weight these choices carried. ''I absolutely love the thrill of developing characters and progressing through Perk Trees, but it''s a whole different ball game when you''re the character in question, with no resets or mulligans available,'' I reflected, ready to dive back into the intricate decision-making for my [Athletics] Perks. The [Athletics] Perk selection demanded a similarly careful balance in my approach. I was looking for something that could offer me a distinctive edge, a tool or ability that I could leverage to my advantage under the right conditions. It had to be something that stood out, that could potentially turn the tides in my favour when most needed. Yet, I was also wary of choosing something too specialised, a lesson I had learned while contemplating my [Stealth] Perk. It was essential that the Perk I chose for [Athletics] had a broad range of applicability, something that could benefit me almost instantly in a variety of scenarios. Initially, I was drawn towards the Perks of [Endurance Runner] and [Steady Breather]. On the surface, these Perks seemed like ideal multipliers for my experience gains. The ability to run longer distances, maintain a faster pace, and tire less, inherently meant I could accelerate the levelling process of my [Athletics] Skill. The allure of [Steady Breather], with its potential to offer some level of protection against suffocation or choking, was also something I had seriously considered on top of that. Yet, as I played out various scenarios in my mind over the past few hours, a realisation dawned on me: These two Perks wouldn''t necessarily provide the immediate utility I currently required. In situations where quick thinking and rapid action were crucial, neither [Endurance Runner] nor [Steady Breather] seemed sufficient. For instance, if a corporate agent, likely enhanced with cybernetics, were to pursue me, my chances of outpacing them seemed slim. Being in the body of a 15-year-old girl further constrained my physical capabilities, especially in comparison to fully-grown adults augmented with advanced technology. In such a scenario, these Perks wouldn''t prevent me from getting caught or worse. And while the experience multiplier aspect was hard to put down, considering that experience drops were pure dopamine and made my body tingle in just the right ways, I needed to shore up my immediate capabilities in order to survive the next following days and weeks. In my decision-making process, I found myself gravitating towards the remaining options in the [Athletics] Perk Tree, namely [Wall Runner], [Cat¡¯s Grace], and [Combat Slide]. Quickly, I dismissed [Cat¡¯s Grace] from my considerations. Given my current life within the confines of Delta, where towering heights and precarious drops were beyond scarce, the utility of this Perk seemed exceedingly limited. Had I been navigating the more perilous landscapes of Neo Avalis at large, [Cat¡¯s Grace] would have been a more appealing choice. However, my current environment within the megabuilding didn¡¯t warrant such a Perk. This left me with [Combat Slide] and [Wall Runner] as the frontrunners. Both Perks promised abilities that bordered on the supernatural. [Combat Slide] offered the intriguing prospect of reducing friction, akin to the effortless glide of socks on a laminated floor, a feature that would be active in any terrain. Meanwhile, [Wall Runner] seemed to defy gravity, at least to an extent, as suggested by its description. I pondered over these two choices extensively. Ultimately, I leaned towards the conclusion that [Combat Slide], while undoubtedly useful in more combat-oriented situations, didn''t quite align with my current lifestyle, which leaned towards pacifism and avoidance of direct confrontations. [Wall Runner], with its unique defiance of gravity, presented a broader range of utility for my current activities. It seemed to offer more versatility in scenarios I was more likely to encounter in my day-to-day endeavours within Delta. Further embracing the potential uses of [Wall Runner], I realised its capacity to significantly enhance my escape strategies as well. It, unlike options such as [Endurance Runner], opened up a novel approach to evading pursuers. While outrunning a cybernetically enhanced adult was off the table, outmanoeuvring them with an unexpected vertical sprint up a wall seemed more than feasible. Particularly when synergized with my earlier [Stealth] Perk selection, [Lightfoot], which effectively erased my tracks in most scenarios, [Wall Runner] promised a near-magical ability to vanish from sight. This wasn''t just about speed; it was about cunning and unpredictability. Picture turning a corner and sprinting up a wall¡ªmy pursuers would be left baffled and scrambling at my sudden disappearance. However, I was aware that [Wall Runner] wouldn''t turn me into a gravity-defying superhero as well. I couldn''t just stick to walls indefinitely. The Perk enabled me to run across surfaces horizontally or vertically, but motion was key. If I stopped, so did the Perk''s effect¡ªsimilar to those lizards skittering across water surfaces, relying on continuous motion to avoid sinking. This sparked ideas on integrating [Wall Runner] into my escape routes going forward. Even in the absence of an ideal vertical escape path, the Perk could still prove invaluable in quickly overcoming obstacles that would otherwise slow me down. Weighing all these factors, I confidently concluded that [Wall Runner] was the optimal choice for my current needs and objectives. With a decisive nod, I selected [Wall Runner] as my Perk, cementing my decision in the System.
[System]: [Wall Runner] (Athletics) Perk acquired.
With the big two Perk choices done, I quickly checked my other System Notifications that I had been ignoring during my selection process.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Juggling] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
"Could''ve been more, but for a light workout, not too shabby," I murmured, glancing at the time displayed on my cerebral interface. Evening was creeping in, hinting at Gabriel and Oliver''s return within the next couple of hours. This realisation signalled the wrap-up of my day''s activities, as well. Despite the sensation of a seemingly uneventful day, I knew that wasn''t entirely true. The acquisition of new Perks was no small feat, and I was optimistic about their potential impact on my forthcoming assignments. My evening plan was similarly set: Diving into the digital realms of [Programming], [Netrunning], and, with a bit of luck, beginning my journey into [Quick-Hacks] soon. Inserting the SPG-01 shard, I re-entered the intricate world of cyberspace, guided by the digital manifestation of Kill Joy. The rest of my evening was wholly dedicated to mastering the final parts of the first module, a deep dive into the last parts of the Cyber-basics that would be covered for now.
My eyes fluttered open the next morning and I was greeted with the Rest Function''s characteristic derealisation and confusion, before my brain adjusted and I regained a semblance of self.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
I quickly went through the prior evening¡¯s notifications, to clear the System for the rest of the day.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
While the gains in experience weren''t as remarkable as my previous endeavours with Kill Joy¡¯s guidance, it was understandable. The session had largely been a recapitulation of the initial module, consolidating rather than introducing more novel concepts. It served more as a session to tie loose ends than an intensive learning experience. Still, I was on the cusp of significant milestones: Merely 100xp away from reaching level 3 in [Programming], which meant another crucial Perk decision, and similarly just 100xp short of advancing to level 2 in [Netrunning], promising another substantial knowledge download. Additionally, my Intellect Attribute was showing notable progress as well, only 300xp away from level 3. This would temporarily restrict the advancement of my [Programming] Skill, though not as much as my Reflex Attribute had once impacted my [Throwing] Skill. Having wrapped up the digital learning session, I shifted focus to the day''s routine tasks: Continuous skill enhancement and my commitment at Mr. Shori''s establishment. I wasn¡¯t expecting anything out of the ordinary, as Mr. Stirling was likely still at least a day away from contacting me, so I was mentally preparing for a rather uneventful day full of experience drops and testing out my new Perks. Getting hands-on experience with these abilities was crucial, equipping me to depend on them in urgent situations. But first, I had my usual routine to take care of¡­
By the time I jumped underneath the shower, I had my morning workout fully completed and was eager to look at the full rundown of experience for the morning¡¯s efforts.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 400xp. [System]: 400xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 200xp. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.[System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
My efforts in honing various skills had been met with notable progress, though the challenge of diminishing experience gains as my Skill levels rose had persisted and continued to intensify. Finding more effective ways to amplify the difficulty of my exercises for optimal gains was an ongoing task, one that I had momentarily shelved amidst my myriad other priorities. Contrastingly, [Contortion] stood out as the only Skill that bucked this trend. The initial level-up had provided me with extensive knowledge about stretching techniques and holistic flexibility improvement. This newfound understanding inspired me to integrate these methods into my routine warm-ups immediately. By adopting the more correct forms and performing these stretches with a newfound understanding, rather than mimicking basic movements I vaguely recalled from advertisements in my previous life, I found that my experience gains in [Contortion] had actually increased. This improvement was a pleasant surprise, given the general trend of reduced gains with advancing difficulty requirements, underscoring the value of proper technique and intentional practice in my skill development journey. I had also spent some time experimenting with [Wall Runner], which proved to be a thoroughly unusual and intriguing experience. I had chosen a secluded alley between apartment blocks on this floor, ensuring privacy for my trial. The sensation of using this Perk was strange, to put it mildly. Eager to test its capabilities, I dashed down the alley, envisioning myself as Neo, adeptly running along the wall and jumping off of it to evade incoming projectiles. The moment my feet made contact with the wall, however, I was met with an extraordinary and extremely disconcerting sensation. One moment everything felt normal, my feet pounding the ground with familiar gravity-bound adherence. The next instant, as my foot hit the wall at an angle, reality seemed to warp, as if the wall itself had become magnetically attached to my shoes. This abrupt change in orientation completely threw me off balance initially. In my first attempt, the sensation was so startling that I lost my footing and tumbled down, painfully bruising myself on the asphalt. Lying there, I had to take a moment to process what had just happened. Determined, I tried again, and it took another three attempts before I could adjust to this bizarre sensation at all. On my fourth try, as I managed to successfully place one foot in front of the other along the wall, I couldn''t suppress an exhilarated laugh. It was completely surreal and utterly impossible. Gravity seemed to have realigned itself to the angle of my feet against the wall, allowing me to traverse it as if it were flat ground. Running along the wall, feeling as if gravity had been skewed just for me, was exhilarating. Each step was an act of defiance against the natural laws I had always known. The sensation was so intense and extraordinary that it left me feeling both disoriented and ecstatic. It was an experience that completely redefined my understanding of what was actually possible with the System. I had not even a sliver of an explanation on how the System was able to provide a Perk like this, as it clearly violated more than half a dozen laws of physics, yet it somehow did. I went on to test vertical wall running as well, which, much like the horizontally-aligned one, worked in almost exactly the same way. The only difference I found was that ascending the wall vertically, rather than moving horizontally at an angle down the alley, was a lot more taxing for both me and the Perk. It was hard to put into words, but there was a certain pull that I felt, whenever the Perk activated. Like an innate pool of gravity-defying bullshit that existed deep within me was being used up, for every second I spent running on the wall. When running up vertically, this pool diminished rapidly, only lasting for about three seconds. However, when running horizontally, it lasted for more than three times that. It was clear that the System had some kind of limitation placed on the verticality of it, which, in hindsight, made a certain amount of sense. There was the entire [Climbing] Skill and its corresponding Perks to consider, after all. If the System simply allowed a random 1st tier Perk to make an entire Skill irrelevant, then that would be a very poorly designed Perk. Despite these limitations, my satisfaction with [Wall Runner] was immense. The initial disorientation I felt was a small price to pay for the utility and freedom it offered. It was always ready to activate in moments of need, and I found myself instinctively aware of its duration, a feature that had initially been a source of concern. The Perk had not only met but vastly exceeded my expectations and I couldn¡¯t wait to actually try and use it for something useful in the future. However, for now, I needed to get out of the shower and head down to Mr. Shori¡¯s. Stepping out and starting to dry myself up, I suddenly realised something astonishing that put a big smile on my face: I wasn¡¯t leaving any footprints. [Lightfoot] was seemingly making my wet feet completely unable to leave any tracks, whatsoever. I hadn¡¯t had the right environment to check out the Perk during my run, so this brief demonstration was a god-send in terms of being able to understand more about the inner workings of it. And what I saw was very satisfying. ¡®If [Lightfoot] can completely shield me from even wet-feet leaving footprints, then it probably works on just about any other surface or liquid as well¡­!¡¯ I thought to myself, my excitement rising. Having this as an always-active passive Perk was undoubtedly going to come in handy in more ways than one. There were likely going to be a myriad of instances where somebody was attempting to track me by my footprints or otherwise, that would get completely spoiled by the Perk without me even realising they existed. With a few more tests, involving socks, my boots and the readily available water, I confirmed that it worked regardless of what I was wearing and regardless of what surface I was on¡ªthe carpet in the living room, the towel or the floor in the bathroom. I didn¡¯t leave any kind of footsteps at all, even with wet boots. Satisfied with my brief experimentation, I threw on the final pieces of my work-attire for Mr. Shori¡¯s and headed down towards the 16th floor, as I did every morning.
The day at Mr. Shori''s stall unfolded in its familiar, comforting rhythm. I busied myself cutting algae, prepping broth, and arranging ingredients, while Mr. Shori transformed them into his signature, mouth-watering ramen and noodle dishes with his brisk and adept culinary skills. It was a welcome reprieve from the complexities of my current life¡ªthe corporate espionage with Mr. Stirling, concerns about Valeria, Gabe, Oliver, and the terrible state my body had been in over the first few week and a half. This semblance of normalcy in my new world was a refreshing change. However, as it often happens, this peaceful interlude was destined to be short-lived. Midway through my shift, a known face timidly appeared at the back of the stall. It was Aki, her gaze flickering nervously, almost as if she expected to be ambushed the moment she entered the stall. I was about to approach her to inquire about her visit, but Mr. Shori swiftly stepped ahead of me. "Ahh, good! You help today?" Mr. Shori inquired, his English as typically choppy and warm as always. Aki responded with a shy nod, her eyes intermittently shifting in my direction. "Great!" Mr. Shori exclaimed. He then turned to me, gesturing towards Aki, "Ela, help Aki, yes? Teach cutting. Teach broth. I teach Ela more, later. Good?" Before I could articulate a response, Mr. Shori had already turned back to Aki, handing her an apron and hairnet identical to mine. It appeared that they had previously agreed on her working off her debt at some point, paralleling the path I had initially chosen when I had first stumbled onto a seat in front of his stall. Mr. Shori instructed in his characteristic broken English, ¡°You ask Ela. Learn. You work good, I give food and credits, yes?¡± Aki, still hesitating, nodded in response, her gaze frequently flitting towards me with increasing urgency. ¡®What, exactly, is her problem with me?¡¯ I wondered internally. I had pegged her as somebody distrusting of everyone around them, as a result of some past trauma, but this was clearly not the case. She was essentially leaving herself entirely open to Mr. Shori, who was merely a metre away from her. That was not the actions of somebody marred by trauma, somebody with inherent distrust of others¡ªI would know. ''Did I inadvertently upset her during our last encounter?'' I mused, trying to recall our limited and somewhat blurred interactions, overshadowed by my preoccupations with Mr. Stirling¡¯s task. The bits I remembered only reinforced my perception of her: She seemed not just cautious but outright terrified of me. A realisation started to crystallise in my mind, as I watched her interactions with Mr. Shori from the sidelines, ¡®Ahh¡­ I see. It''s the wariness of women, specifically. The poor thing¡­ I wonder if it¡¯s due to her mum, or somebody similarly close. I could definitely see myself being like this if they had a mum like Valeria and didn¡¯t have my unique situation to protect themselves from childhood trauma.¡¯ Gaining Aki¡¯s trust was evidently going to be a challenging task, yet I couldn¡¯t help but deeply empathise with her situation. My own past life had been fraught with hardships, especially during my early years. Witnessing Aki''s behaviour¡ªthe barely hidden terror in her eyes, her body tense with a conflicting desire to flee yet frozen in place, her eyes darting anxiously at my every move as if bracing for an attack¡ªstirred a deep sense of compassion within me. These were symptoms I was intimately familiar with. It had taken almost a decade of therapy for me to achieve a semblance of normalcy, yet some scars remained. Scars that would likely never truly heal, no matter what I liked to tell myself after waking up from another nightmare, crying uncontrollably and completely drenched in sweat¡ªat least that part, I now had a way of avoiding thanks to the Rest Function¡­ The thought of what Aki might have endured to reach such a state was downright heart-wrenching, and the extremely high likelihood that she would not have access to the necessary therapeutic support to navigate and heal from her trauma, considering the kind of world she lived in, weighed heavily on me. ¡®I¡¯ll try my best to help her out,¡¯ I resolved, feeling a strong sense of camaraderie and empathy surge within me. ¡®This will be how I can truly repay Mr. Shori¡¯s kindness; the girl I failed to save. I will help Aki get over her trauma, even if it takes me years.¡¯ With my resolve set in stone, I eagerly awaited Mr. Shori to return to the front of the stall and leave me alone with Aki. After a few more, broken English, sentences Mr. Shori did exactly that. Now, it was time to put my prior thoughts into action¡­! By doing exactly nothing. I continued preparing the next batch of broth with the mixtures of spices that I had learned to use from Mr. Shori, not paying any heed to Aki at all. My thoughts on this were simple: Approaching her would do the exact opposite of easing her fears. I was going to treat her like an abused, stray cat. Give her as much space as I could, while letting her slowly adjust herself to my presence. I needed to show her that I was neither scared of her, by putting my back to her as much as possible, while simultaneously showing that she didn¡¯t have to be scared of me either. The easiest way for that was to simply ignore her until she, herself, decided to approach me out of her own volition. I could hear her take a series of deep, steadying breaths, a few metres behind me. She was clearly trying to calm herself down, which was utterly endearing¡ªshe was truly trying her best to try and overcome her apprehensions. I felt my Ego Attribute kicking in, forcing me back to my self-set goal of ignoring the girl until she approached me, snuffing out the immediate need to go and give her a big hug. I sent a silent thanks to the System for providing the Ego Attribute for me, as I wasn¡¯t sure if I could have controlled myself without it. Aki was simply too cute, too endearing, to ignore for longer than a few moments. As I diligently carried out my tasks during the shift, I subtly positioned myself so Aki could observe my work from a distance, perhaps learning by watching. I deliberately refrained from sharpening any knives, of course. My reasons were twofold: Firstly, my actual skill in knife sharpening was still rudimentary, having primarily relied on my Perk so far, hinging largely on the basic knowledge provided by my [Knives] Skill. But, even more importantly, I wanted to avoid appearing threatening to Aki, especially given her apprehensive state. And wielding large kitchen knives, sharpening them in front of her, was likely not the proper way to go about that. Instead, I focused on tasks that didn''t involve cutting anything. I meticulously prepared various ingredients and continued to perfect the broth for the expected lunchtime rush. Grinding spices, I made sure to angle the mortar slightly, allowing Aki a peek inside. As I sampled the broth, I commented aloud on its taste and what I believed it needed, explaining my choices. I was essentially teaching her indirectly, hoping she would pick up techniques and insights without feeling the pressure of direct instruction or interaction. My goal was to create a comfortable learning environment, hoping she would feel at ease to engage and learn at her own pace. As the end of my usual shift approached, I felt a glimmer of hope that my approach with Aki was yielding results. Her footsteps were almost inaudible as she made her way toward me, suggesting a lifetime of moving cautiously to evade someone''s wrath. The thought pained me, but I kept my focus on the task at hand, grinding spices while keeping an ear tuned to her quiet approach. It felt like an age before she was finally close enough to touch. I paused momentarily in my grinding, creating a silent space in case she wanted to speak. But this sudden halt seemed to startle her; I could hear her breath catch. Realising my mistake, I quickly resumed grinding, worried that my eagerness might have undone my careful day-long effort. Fortunately, my worry was unfounded. Just moments later, I heard her voice, soft and tentative, behind me. It was a small, yet significant breakthrough, indicating that my patient, unobtrusive strategy was starting to bridge the gap between us. "Hi... um, could you teach me what you''re doing? I''d like to help," Aki said, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with an unmistakable mix of nervousness and bravery. It seemed as if she was channelling every ounce of her courage to make this simple request, confronting her deep-seated fears of interaction and potential rejection. My Ego Attribute worked overtime to keep me from cooing and throwing myself on her to shower her in hugs, as I gestured towards a nearby set of mortar and pestle¡ªa staple that never seemed to change, regardless of technological progress in the world¡ªand said, ¡°Sure. Pick up that one and I¡¯ll hand you a couple of spices to mix. Have you ever tasted raw spices before?¡± I kept it very professional and exclusively work-related, not wanting to scare her away by launching any kind of private conversation. ¡°Ehh¡­ No. No, I haven¡¯t,¡± she answered, her voice taking on a more confused tone. She was probably struggling to understand what a mortar and pestle was, so I decided to show her more up-close, by angling my own more towards her. I gently demonstrated how to use the mortar and pestle, emphasising the need for strong, steady pressure rather than jabs. "You want to rotate the pestle using your wrists and shoulders, not just your elbows," I explained, making sure my movements were easy to follow. Glancing up to check if she was understanding, I caught a glimpse of her expression, but was met with a look that I had not anticipated whatsoever. The look on Aki''s face was one of complete and utter bewilderment. It wasn''t the kind of confusion you''d expect from someone trying to grasp a new concept being taught to them. Instead, it was a profound, unadulterated perplexity, hinting at a deeper, more fundamental struggle to understand something that seemed utterly baffling to her. I was at a loss about what to make of Aki''s expression. It didn''t appear to be related to our current task at all, yet I couldn''t fathom what else might be going on in her mind. My, admittedly extremely optimistic, hope was that perhaps her confusion stemmed from her feelings towards me, maybe indicating that her fear of me was diminishing and she was trying to understand why. Finally breaking the silence, Aki let out a slight huff, her tone shifting to the slightly more assertive teenage demeanour I remembered from our last encounter. "Alright, hand me those spices then," she said with a hint of her former snarkiness. "I''ll crush them. Let''s see what this is all about." I hastily gathered a selection of basic spices, including salt, pepper, and garlic, which Mr. Shori had initially used to teach me. Demonstrating the correct proportions and blend, I showed Aki how to mix them effectively. To my surprise, she grasped the technique of using the mortar and pestle with remarkable speed. By the time I completed my own larger batch of spice mix, Aki had already finished her first attempt as well. Observing her skills, it was hard to believe this was her first time handling these tools; she seemed like a natural, effortlessly crushing and combining the spices for the broth. "Wow, this is really impressive, Aki," I praised her, hoping to boost her confidence and further diminish any lingering unease she felt around me. "You have a real knack for this." Her response, tinged with a hint of sarcasm and annoyance, seemed to validate my approach, "Sure, whatever. What do I do next?" The more her fear of me seemed to subside, the more her snarky and irritated tone surfaced. It appeared to be a protective mechanism she had developed¡ªa shield to keep others at a distance, preventing them from getting too close and potentially causing her harm. In that behaviour, I recognized a certain truth. ¡®This will be a long day¡­ But it will be worth it in the end, if I can provide a safe space for her and help her work through her trauma,¡¯ I thought to myself, making the decision to extend today¡¯s shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s by a few hours to spend more time with Aki. I was going to make sure she would leave today with a willingness to come back tomorrow. With a willingness to engage with me directly and more openly, even if only slightly¡­ Notice of break until Febuary 19th Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! Just a quick update, that I won''t be able to release a chapter this Thursday, as I''ve gotten pretty damn sick from a recent work-trip. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. So I''ll be focusing primarily on recovering and not worrying about writing, as I''m spending around 16-18 hours a day in bed at the moment. The next ND chapter, thusly, will be released on Febuary 19th. Thank you for the continued support on the Novel! I''ll see y''all on Monday next week!~ Chapter 43 - Progress - PoV: Jade - Jade''s exasperation had escalated to the point where she felt like she was on the brink of making a colossal blunder. For over three hours, she had been assisting Mr. Shori in the back of his stall under the guise of "settling her debt" with him¡ªan ideal pretext to closely observe her target, who seemed to do the same as her, albeit on a daily basis. Venturing into this endeavour required a significant amount of bravery from her, especially given the extremely unsettling encounter with Ela just a few days prior. She had devoted ample time edging closer to the stall, aiming for the perfect position to consistently observe Ela''s activities behind the stall, only for Ela to unexpectedly come out of the stall and confront her directly. Jade had nearly bolted, paralyzed only because her legs wouldn''t heed her frantic desire to escape. By this point, however, she had been convinced: Ela was far more formidable than even Vega had anticipated initially. Jade''s irritation wasn''t solely due to Ela''s eerie knack for detecting her, no matter her method of approach, either. What vexed Jade even further was the realisation that Ela seemed to be completely toying with her, like a master might prank their rowdy students. Initially, Jade had entertained the possibility that Ela was merely extending kindness, maintaining a facade of simplicity in their interactions. However, it soon became evident that the reality was far from this benign. Ela persistently dropped hints and poked at Jade''s true identity right from their very first encounter. Jade remained uncertain whether Ela had completely figured out who she was, but every moment she spent in Ela''s vicinity felt akin to dangerously teasing a dormant apex predator in their own lair. Particularly jarring was their first confrontation behind the stall, where Ela''s reaction¡ªor lack thereof¡ªto Jade''s stealthy approach was beyond unsettling. Attempting to observe Ela, who seemed to be merely grinding spices, Jade was stopped in her tracks by Ela''s palpable warning: A silent but clear message to maintain her distance or face dire consequences. This implicit threat left Jade chilled to the very core. Ela hadn''t made any defensive moves, reached for a weapon, or even uttered a single word. She had merely stopped grinding the spices for a single moment, as if to say ¡°I can end you, just as easily as I can grind these spices to dust.¡± Her sheer confidence in handling any threat Jade might pose, despite Jade''s proximity and tactical advantage, with nothing but her own two hands, was profoundly disconcerting. Her mere inaction had spoken volumes, instilling a profound sense of dread in Jade. To make matters worse, since she had joined Ela in the back, their activities had been limited to exclusively cooking! Although this was exactly what she had said she would do in assisting Mr. Shori, she had harboured hopes for a more secretive exchange with Ela, or at the very least, some direct questioning¡ªanything beyond this rotten, culinary monotony. Yet, their time had been completely consumed with grinding spices, concocting broth, and combining ingredients for Mr. Shori''s use at the stall''s forefront, stretching on for what seemed like an eternity. There was nothing she could learn about her target like this! What truly ended up being the worst for Jade, however, was Ela''s apparent contentment with the simplicity of these tasks. The sight of Ela taking pleasure in what Jade considered beyond mundane work only served to truly vex her beyond belief. ¡®Why is she doing this¡­? There¡¯s got to be some kind of reason for her behaviour...! An Operator of her skills wouldn¡¯t waste her time like this,¡¯ Jade thought, again and again, only to be dumbstruck by the next thing Ela went to do, be it crushing more spices, creating more broth or some other thoroughly mundane cooking-related task. The first time Jade had seen Ela, she had harboured serious doubts about Vega''s assessment, yet as time progressed, it became evident that Vega¡¯s warnings may not simply have been accurate, but potentially an understatement¡ªEla was seriously scary. Jade found herself unable to decipher Ela¡¯s behaviours, subtle hints, and probing questions, despite clearly being able to tell that she was aiming towards something specific. This confusion mirrored the challenging early days under Vega''s tutelage, leaving her feeling lost and utterly unprepared. Like everything she did, she simply did to teach Jade something that she failed to see, in some twisted, fucked-up way. Despite navigating this uncertainty, Jade couldn¡¯t help but feel an unexpected sense of security amidst her fear of Ela. Her demeanour didn¡¯t strike Jade as hostile, despite her evident mastery in stealth and subterfuge¡ªskills that Jade reluctantly acknowledged might surpass even Vega¡¯s own. Ela''s prowess and success as an Operator, however, was unmistakable, her competence shining through even in her choice of accessories for her current, more-hidden persona. At this very moment, she sported a combat knife, subtly concealed beneath her attire. The knife, which was almost guaranteed to be of at least Tier 1 quality, if not higher, spoke volumes of her wealth, if she considered it to be the lowest of the low, to bring to a mundane cooking cover-job like this. Though, not as much as her hair did, of course. Jade found herself both admiring and irked as she observed Ela¡¯s recent hairstyle change. The choice of VoniX-black as the dominant colour was bold to the point of complete and utter recklessness. Jade thought about it, every time she laid eyes on her target¡¯s hair, ¡®Opting for VoniX-black is like covering yourself in, admittedly extremely stylish, liquid gold. Who the fuck even does that?¡¯ Jade, herself, would have never considered VoniX-black as a colour for her hair. Maybe some piece of clothing, that she could hide underneath a bunch of layers, but to be wearing it openly like that, on the top of your head? That was downright insane. VoniX-black was one of the most expensive colours one could buy without dipping into corpo-only mixes, after all. It absorbed the majority of all light, making anything seeped in it appear essentially 2D, as your brain would simply fail to properly analyse the contours of whatever it was that you were looking at. While Jade couldn''t deny the striking effect it had on Ela''s hair, she was acutely aware of the audacity behind such a choice. Sporting VoniX-black was akin to announcing one¡¯s wealth to the world, almost like flaunting a neon sign declaring some not-insignificant financial resources spent on what others might consider just a hairstyle. This bold move further solidified Ela''s likely pre-existing reputation in Jade''s eyes. It was clear that Ela didn''t conform to conventional wisdom or caution, and more importantly, she seemed to be thoroughly confident in possessing the skills necessary to navigate the risks associated with such flamboyant choices. Despite Jade''s personal views and hesitations about Ela, she was there on a mission: To collect as much information as she could about her. Ignoring Vega¡¯s critical advice on staying safe and being an effective spy had put her in a position where she needed to deliver valuable intel to justify the risks she had taken. While they were preparing another set of ingredients, an idea struck Jade, a way to learn more about Ela. With genuine nervousness adding authenticity to her usually more reserved demeanour, she used her Aki voice and ventured, ¡°S¡­Say, do we not cut any of the ingredients¡­? Is that all Mr. Shori¡¯s job?¡± Jade was well aware that Mr. Shori couldn''t possibly handle all the chopping himself. Given the quantity of algae and vegetables needed daily, they would''ve wilted or altered in texture long before the day had advanced to this hour, if he had cut them before he opened his stall. It was clear to Jade that Ela must have been responsible for this task before her arrival. Yet, from the moment Jade had stepped in, Ela hadn¡¯t gone anywhere near the kitchen knives. To Jade, the avoidance suggested a single plausible explanation: Ela was concealing something about her knife skills. Something that would hopefully be worth risking the direct interaction for. Ela''s reaction to Jade''s query was a mix of surprise and calculation, causing Jade''s pulse to race. ''Keep your cool, Jade. She''s just taken aback by my directness all of a sudden... But I can''t just loiter around making broth indefinitely. Vega is going to kill me if I don''t make this endeavour worthwhile...!'' ¡°Oh, no, that¡¯s usually my task. I thought we had enough prepared for the day, but it looks like I was wrong, haha,¡± Ela responded, her excuse sounding decidedly forced as she made her way to the cutting area with a determined stride. Jade trailed behind, maintaining a careful distance as a reminder of the initial caution Ela had impressed upon their temporary ¡°partnership¡±. ¡°As for me, I usually tackle the algae and veggies in large quantities early on, before moving them to the broth and mixing sections,¡± Ela explained, her expression brightening with a grin that forced Jade to muster all her willpower to stifle a groan. ¡®I swear¡­ If she wasn¡¯t so fucking scary and Vega didn¡¯t give me clear instructions on getting intel on her, I¡¯d have slit her throat right away. I can¡¯t believe this bitch. I¡¯m clearly asking for you to show me some of your skills, yet you give me a rundown on mundane cooking tasks just to fuck with me?! How much more do you plan to have me embarrass myself to get you to give me a clear demonstration?!¡¯ Jade fumed internally, although maintaining an interested look on the outside. Their interactions were peculiar, to say the least. Both seemed to be aware of the other''s true nature, yet they continued to act as if they were mere acquaintances, casually meeting in the confines of a food stall''s kitchen. Jade was no stranger to this game of feigned ignorance, having played it more times than she could remember. However, familiarity didn''t make it any more palatable, especially under these conditions where she felt like a puppet in the hands of somebody her own age. That, in itself, was likely the most frustrating part of this entire assignment. Jade had considered herself fairly skilled at all things espionage, but being directly pitted against somebody that was on Vega¡¯s level or even beyond, that also just so happened to be her own age, was truly humbling¡ªand consequently, thoroughly infuriating. Enduring Ela''s detailed exposition on her culinary processes, from the precise dimensions of her chops for Mr. Shori to the minutiae of kitchen banalities, was far from Jade''s idea of time well spent. It seemed like an eternity of condescension before Ela finally deemed the charade sufficient, gracefully moving to retrieve a knife from the collection nearby. As Jade''s gaze fixed on Ela, she noticed a shift in her demeanour the moment her hand wrapped around the knife''s handle. The transformation was subtle yet undeniable; Ela''s movements with the knife were fluid and precise, slicing through the algae with an ease that betrayed a level of skill far beyond the mundane tasks they had been performing up until this point. It was as if Ela had finally allowed Jade a peek behind the curtain, revealing a hint of her true capabilities, forcing Jade to thoroughly school her face to not betray her excitement at being able to finally get some actual intel on her target. She observed meticulously, recognizing that the finesse with which Ela handled the knife was not just basic skill but something more. This was the moment Jade had been waiting for, a direct insight into Ela''s nature, yet the revelation brought with it an unexpected disquiet. Watching Ela manoeuvre the knife should have, at worst, elicited fear, considering the potential danger it represented. However, the unease Jade felt was different, deeper and more profound in nature. It wasn''t the threat of the knife itself that unsettled her but rather the way it interacted with the algae. There was something off about the cuts, a discrepancy that Jade couldn''t quite articulate. Not yet. The algae seemed to yield to the knife too easily, as if reality itself was bending slightly to Ela''s will. Jade quickly realised that this subtle anomaly was what truly unnerved her, igniting a suspicion that there was more to Ela¡¯s cutting technique than she could initially see. While a lot more refined than the rest of the skills Ela had pretended to not be adept at until now, the knife handling skills she was portraying now weren¡¯t anything to write home about either. But that one particular aspect, Jade could not make heads or tails of, no matter how much she tried. This wasn''t just skill; it was something else, something "wrong" that Jade couldn''t yet fully understand. Without realising it, Jade had edged closer to Ela, now standing only a few centimetres away, her attention riveted on the knife as it effortlessly sliced through the algae. Despite expecting some resistance from the spongy material, under Ela''s guidance, the algae seemed to part with ease, as if it were less substantial than air. She was utterly captivated by the sight of the knife moving through the algae with such ease, a sight that challenged her understanding of basic physics. The algae, wet and typically resistant, seemed to offer no challenge to Ela''s knife, parting as if by mere will rather than force. ¡®This is not possible¡­ What is happening to the algae¡­? No matter how sharp a knife, wet algae like this should not simply be¡­ cut like this! Especially not with the miniscule amount of force she uses. This makes no fucking sense!¡¯ Just when Jade thought her perplexity couldn''t get any deeper, Ela, almost as if she had tapped into Jade''s thoughts, casually remarked, ¡°Cutting the algae is a breeze with Mr. Shori¡¯s knives. They¡¯re exceptionally sharp, which simplifies the task a lot,¡± offering an explanation that seemed far too simple for what Jade had just witnessed. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ''She¡¯s fucking with me again¡­! These are clearly ordinary knives, the kind you¡¯d find in any reputable knife shop. There¡¯s no way they could perform like this, not unless they¡¯re some kind of hidden vibro-knives!'' Jade mentally scoffed at Ela''s oversimplified justification. "Would you like to give it a try, Aki?" Ela suddenly inquired, extending the knife towards Jade with an encouraging smile. A wave of apprehension washed over Jade as her gaze shifted from the knife''s handle, up to Ela''s strangely gentle-looking smile, and then to the meticulously, perfectly-straight cut algae beside them. ''This must be some kind of test,'' she surmised, her mind racing to deduce Ela''s expectations. ''She¡¯s offering me a weapon, while comfortably within my striking distance. If I accept the knife incorrectly, she might just kill me immediately¡­ Alternatively, could this be her way of maybe sharing some of her techniques with me¡­?'' Jade deliberated briefly about whether it was worth the risk, yet the course of action seemed evident almost immediately. The risk far outweighed the potential benefits. "Uh¡­ No, thank you, Ela. I think I¡¯ll just watch. Handling knives isn¡¯t really my strong suite¡­" In the fleeting moment before Ela resumed her task, Jade detected a subtle trace of... compassion in her smile, a nuance that left her momentarily puzzled. ¡®What¡­?¡¯ As Ela returned to her slicing, she reassured, "That''s alright. You can just watch until you feel more comfortable. I think it''s very worthwhile to learn some cooking skills like this, however. Cutting things with confidence is very much a skill worth having." This comment set Jade adrift in thought once again, perplexed by Ela''s implication. It didn''t sound like a threat; rather, it came across as sage advice. Almost like a warning of something yet to come. Did Ela possess some intel that she lacked? ¡®The way she said that almost sounds like she¡¯s suggesting I should learn how to defend myself,¡¯ Jade concluded, frissons of doom running down her neck. The implications of such a direct warning by the enigmatic girl were beyond concerning to consider¡­
The remainder of their shift unfolded without further incident, lasting another two hours before Mr. Shori signalled it was time to finish up. As they were preparing to leave, Ela turned to Jade with surprising enthusiasm and asked, "Will you be coming back tomorrow? I think we made a great team today!" Jade, momentarily taken aback by the nature of the inquiry, pondered the invitation. ''If she''s asking me back, she must not see me as a threat to her territory. And considering the numerous opportunities she''s had to disappear me completely unnoticed, it''s unlikely she poses any immediate threat to me¡ªas long as I stay in her good graces, of course,'' she reasoned internally. The need for further intelligence on Ela was undeniable; Jade had spent hours observing her cutting technique without deciphering any of its secrets. Ela''s skills were evidently far out of Jade''s league. Yet, as Vega had mentioned initially, Ela might be somewhat more open around someone of her own age. The thought of what might happen if her sister Ruby had instead been sent to spy on Ela halted her train of thought¡ªimagining such a scenario did not bode well for Ruby, as far as Jade could tell. Deciding it best to continue her surveillance for Vega''s sake, aware that he wouldn''t easily dismiss Ela, especially considering her prior report, Jade couldn''t justify putting Ruby or anyone else in potential jeopardy. "Yeah¡­ I¡­ I think I will¡­" she murmured in her ''Aki'' voice, a softer, more hesitant version of her actual tone. "Great! See you tomorrow, then. Take care and stay safe out there, Aki," the girl cheerfully said before she briskly made her way past the broth station and exited the back of the stall. Jade stood there for a moment, taken aback by the sudden departure. She half-expected some veiled threats, further probing into her true identity, or at least something more than a casual "take care and stay safe," given all the indirect warnings that had hinted at potential dangers Jade might soon face. But this simple farewell left her puzzled and slightly unnerved. ''What was that all about...? Was she trying to tell me something or was she just fucking with me again? I can¡¯t read¡ª'' As Jade pondered the possible implications, her extensive training under Vega instinctively drew her gaze to the ground Ela had just traversed, especially near the broth station. That area was notoriously slippery and messy, often splattered with broth from when Jade carelessly added algae to the pots, not particularly concerned about neatness. The surrounding floor had been damp all day, some spots even sticky and slightly muddied from the spills. However, what truly shocked Jade, causing her eyes to widen in a mix of terror and awe, was the complete absence of any trace of Ela''s passage. Despite having just watched Ela step through that very area while bidding her goodbye, there wasn''t a single footprint or even the slightest imprint left behind. It was as though she had either never been there or had somehow glided over the surface without touching it, yet Jade had clearly seen Ela''s boots make contact with the ground, which now bore no evidence of her presence whatsoever. ¡®It looks like I chose the right answer, for her to show me this small part of her true skills,¡¯ Jade mused in complete awe, before the more frightening sides of this revelation came crashing down on her. ¡®Holy shit¡­ Vega, what the fuck have you gotten me into¡­?!¡¯ If this was just one of the capabilities that the girl truly possessed, just what kind of a monster would she be, if somebody ticked her off¡­?
Leaving Mr. Shori''s stall, I was in high spirits, pleased with how the day had unfolded. ''I actually got Aki to open up a bit. And she''s planning to return tomorrow!'' I couldn''t help but let a broad smile cross my face as I made my way to the restricted elevators, heading back to my apartment. ''As I had expected, it seems like she has her reservations about knives, but she didn''t seem to mind me handling one. She was quite captivated by it, actually. That''s a detail worth remembering. It might just be the key to helping her come out of her shell more in the future¡­'' With those thoughts on Aki momentarily shelved, I turned my attention to reviewing the day''s experience notifications, reflecting on the extended time I had spent at the stall.
[System]: 400xp gained for [Knives] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Reflecting on the day''s experiences, I couldn''t help but note a significant increase in the experience gains. ''Did the System grant me a bonus for attempting to teach Aki?'' I pondered, noticing that the gains were almost double what I usually received, even though I hadn''t spent twice the time at the stall. ''Tomorrow, I''ll run a normal shift and continue explaining things to Aki, see if the experience gain is altered,'' I planned, curious about the potential correlation for my future grinding sessions. After all, if there was a way to increase my efficiency, I would have to make sure I understood its inner workings precisely! Moreover, I was looking forward to tomorrow''s shift for another reason as well: My Intuition was on the cusp of reaching level 4, which would be my fourth Attribute to reach this milestone in total. While a 4 in an Attribute didn¡¯t particularly mean anything, aside from Body, which indicated that you had reached ¡°above average¡± physical fitness, it was still a bit of a milestone in my mind, as it often marked the beginning of the true grind. The first three levels were fairly easy to get, going from Level 1 to 4. But once you reached that 4,000xp requirement to go from 4 to 5, things tended to slow down rather dramatically in Neon Dragons, which seemed to be the case here as well. Despite using all my available bonus experience on the Body Attribute, for example, I was still many days, potentially even weeks, away from the 5th rank for it. The challenge wasn''t just the steep climb in experience points required for each level, but also the escalating difficulty of tasks needed to earn those points in the first place. Pre-level 4, I could rack up experience through everyday activities or some regular, very basic exercise regimens. However, beyond level 4, it demanded much more deliberate and intense training efforts for consistent gains, a hurdle that intensified with each subsequent level. Yet, achieving another level 4 in an Attribute, particularly Intuition, was a victory I eagerly anticipated. It promised to sharpen my understanding of Aki, who, despite my progress, remained somewhat enigmatic. Today marked a significant breakthrough with her, but deciphering her fully was definitely still a puzzle that required some serious thought. Arriving home, I promptly dealt with the aftermath of a long shift at Mr. Shori''s¡ªmy work attire reeked of the stall''s ambiance, thanks in part to Aki''s frequent broth overflow mishaps. Considering a shower but mindful of the ticking clock, I decided against indulging in what I termed "idle vanity." Time was of the essence, and I had plans to keep. Thus, I opted to dive directly back into my digital learning environment, swapping my work-worn clothes for comfortable bedding. Inserting the SPG-01 shard, I re-entered cyberspace, where Kill Joy''s digital guidance awaited, ready to continue my journey into the depths of programming and netrunning expertise. My goal for today had been simple, but had ultimately been derailed by my long shift: Reach level 3 [Programming] and start thinking about the Perk for it, as well as starting the 2nd guided lesson and hopefully unlocking [Quick-Hacks]. I eagerly advanced to the starting line of the second guided lesson, finding myself instantly transported to a classroom setup that resembled the first but was decked out with an array of more sophisticated, tech-focused equipment. It was clear that Kill Joy had gone the extra mile to theme each session uniquely, adding an extra layer of immersion and excitement to the lessons. "Ah, welcome back, eager student!" Kill Joy announced, making a grand entrance not by passing through the walls, but rather as if commanding them to open before him and seamlessly close after his passage¡ªa theatrical touch that brought a grin to my face. His penchant for the dramatic, a hallmark of his character in the game, was fully intact in this digital incarnation, a detail that I found both amusing and endearingly familiar every time it cropped up. Focused intently on the task at hand, I dredged through my cluttered memories for the specifics of manifesting an object in the digital realm. The concept of [Manifestation], so alien and unused since my initial encounter with Kill Joy, seemed buried under layers of newly acquired knowledge and experiences. Despite the overwhelming influx of information since then, a glimmer of recollection sparked within me after a while, a thread of memory I eagerly grasped. With a deep breath, I concentrated on the mental image of a chair, recalling the texture, shape, and even the weight as best as I could from memory. The digital space around me began to pulse slightly, responding to my focused intent and the barely remembered procedure of how I last used the [Manifestation] Skill. It felt akin to pulling on a thread in the dark, not fully sure of what would follow. Then, with a mental tug and a visual flourish that surprised even me, a chair began to materialise. It was a simple creation, far from the elaborate designs one might conjure with more practice or finesse. The structure was basic, utilitarian, yet it held a certain charm¡ªa direct product of my concentration and will. Its form solidified in front of me, tangible proof of my efforts, though its stability was somewhat questionable. I eyed it sceptically, hoping it would support me as intended. This act of creation, pulling an object from the ether of digital space and manifesting to become a usable entity within the 3D environment, was a stark reminder of the unique laws that governed cyberspace, and the untapped potential that lay within my grasp. As the chair finally took its full shape, standing ready for use, I couldn''t help but feel a surge of pride at this small, yet significant, success at this part of the netrunning skillset. Settling into the chair I had just manifested, my gaze lifted to meet Mr. Joy''s, who was peering at me through those oversized code-snippet sunglasses he sometimes fancied. Despite their undeniably goofy appearance, they somehow suited him perfectly. It struck me that when you''re the genius behind a revolutionary programming language that has made all previous IT conventions practically obsolete, fashion norms ceased to matter entirely. In my eyes, his eccentric choice of eyewear was a badge of honour, a reminder of his unparalleled contributions to the digital world. His look, blending whimsy with brilliance, served as a constant reminder of how far-reaching his impact was, allowing him to defy conventions with the same ease he navigated complex code. "That was definitely a lot faster than last time, girl," Mr. Joy remarked. He leaned slightly forward, his hands clasped behind his back, and began to pace slowly in front of me, tracing invisible figures of eight on the ground. "Now, listen up: This is the second of three guided lessons within this shard. It will primarily focus on the programming aspects of Cyber, which you have just learned during the first guided lesson, as well as the real-world applications thereof in writing proper code, programs and, last but definitely not least, quick-hacks.¡± He paused for a moment, as if to gauge my reaction, before continuing. ¡°Now, mind you, quick-hacks sound like something only the criminals of the world would resort to. The old-world did not look kindly on anything titled ¡®hacks¡¯, after all.¡± A brief chuckle escaped him, a soft glow from the digital classroom illuminating his sunglasses. ¡°But you could not be further from the truth. Quick-hacks are nothing but highly specialised programs that can be used for a variety of purposes¡ªsome illegal, others life-saving. It all comes down to how you use the knowledge I¡¯m imparting upon you, and, just between us two,¡± he leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, ¡°I really don¡¯t care what you do with it, either way.¡± He straightened up and resumed his pacing, his hands now animatedly moving as if sculpting the air with his words. ¡°In their most fundamental form, quick-hacks exist as two separate entities: Finished quick-hack subroutines and quick-hack segments. The first is the easiest one to understand, for they do exactly what they are designed to do and nothing else. ¡°This could be a break-lock hack, that opens digital locks of a certain type. It could be a simple quick-hack, that opens vending machines for you to acquire some free beverages¡ªwhich, by the way, you are legally obligated to share with me¡ªor it could simply be something that allows your cerebral interface to download data from a server.¡± He stopped his pacing and looked directly at me, his tone growing more serious. ¡°The important part here is that each quick-hack subroutine only does one thing and one thing only¡ªthe stuff it¡¯s written for. There is no flexibility in them, whatsoever, only providing exactly what is written.¡± His gaze lingered for a moment, ensuring the gravity of his words had fully sunk in before he nodded slightly, indicating he was ready to proceed to the next part of the lesson. Mr. Joy illustrated his point with a practical demonstration, conjuring a row of doors in front of us, each equipped with a different locking mechanism. With a flick of his wrist, a simple break-lock quick-hack¡¯s code visibly sprung to life in front of us and easily unlocked the first door. However, its success was short-lived; it faltered against all others. "As you can see," he noted, gesturing towards the now static doors, "this quick-hack subroutine fails to be useful in most scenarios, as it only does what it¡¯s explicitly told to do: Break this one particular type of lock." He reset the scenario with a snap of his fingers, but this time, his actions yielded a different result. Each door, regardless of its lock, swung open, albeit with a noticeable delay. "This," he said, turning to face me with a spark of excitement in his eyes, "is where quick-hack segments come in. They are a special sort of code, that, much like the subroutines, perform a particular function. However, these can be combined and generalised to a much greater extent." Mr. Joy illustrated the use of quick-hack segments (Door), (Open), and (Force) from his quick-hack Base, opening the doors. "It¡¯s what defines how good of a netrunner you will be in the future. Every quick-hack segment consists of at least one (Verb) and one (Subject), with the option to add as many (Adjectives) and (Verbs) as you want after that." As he spoke, his hands moved in the air as if weaving the code together, demonstrating the flexibility and potential complexity of building these segments. Pausing his demonstration, he looked directly at me. "Each additional part from your base will increase the RAM requirements, the heat created, and the time the quick-hack takes to do its thing. But, as you''ve seen, it''s vastly more flexible than the old way of quick-hacking with pre-written subroutines. They each have their uses, and learning which one to focus on and use in each situation is what will set a good netrunner apart from a bad one, and a great one from a legendary one." He stopped pacing and faced me squarely, a serious expression replacing his previously animated demeanour. "Before we dive into building your very first quick-hack segment to start working on your own Base, we need to delve deep into quick-hack subroutines. The understanding you''ll gain there is crucial for creating effective quick-hack segments going forward, and you will need to use a vast number of subroutines in your life as well, so it¡¯s a good start anyway." With that, Kill Joy waved his hand, and the classroom, along with its doors and quick-hack demonstrations, abruptly vanished. In its place, the familiar IDE setup appeared, where I had spent most of my time during our last guided lesson. This was, without a doubt, going to be some of the most interesting, but similarly complex sessions I was likely going to experience for quite some time. But at the same time, I had just heard the all-too-familiar chime of a Skill levelling up and another one unlocking, which gave me a massive dose of dopamine to work with for the next little while. [Programming] had just reached level 3 and I had almost assuredly just gotten access to the [Quick-Hacks] Skill at the same time¡­ Chapter 44 - Taking Position With [Programming] hitting level 3, the G.E.M.A. System flooded my consciousness with a deluge of advanced programming knowledge that felt akin to unlocking a new dimension within the cyberspace. The complexity and depth of this new information was staggering, expanding my understanding and capabilities far beyond what I had previously thought possible. First and foremost, the system introduced me to advanced algorithmic techniques. Concepts like dynamic programming and greedy algorithms were no longer just theoretical ideas but practical tools I could wield. I learned to identify when a problem could be broken down into smaller, overlapping subproblems to be solved once and saved for future reference, dramatically increasing efficiency of any future algorithms I might¡¯ve wanted to employ. Next, it delved into the intricacies of concurrent and parallel programming. Understanding how to manage multiple processes and threads simultaneously opened up new avenues for optimising performance, especially in environments where time was of the essence. The nuances of synchronisation, deadlock avoidance, and race conditions were laid bare, equipping me with the knowledge to write robust, high-performance code that could leverage the full power of multi-core processors. The realm of software design patterns was also similarly unravelled. I was introduced to architectural patterns like MVC (Model-View-Controller) and concepts like Factory, Singleton, and Observer patterns. These weren''t just patterns; they were blueprints that, when applied correctly, could solve more common software design problems efficiently and elegantly, making the codebase more scalable, reusable, and maintainable¡ªsomething that would undoubtedly come in handy with my ever-increasing knowledge thanks to the System¡¯s generous Skill knowledge downloads. Furthermore, it expanded my understanding of advanced database management, including normalisation techniques, advanced querying, and dealing with multiple different types of non-standard databases. It covered how to optimise database access, manage transactions, and ensure data integrity in complex systems. This knowledge was going to prove absolutely vital for handling the vast amounts of data that the applications and systems in Neon Dragons would undoubtedly require. Lastly, the level up brought an in-depth exploration of advanced cybersecurity techniques as well. Beyond basic principles, I was now versed in encryption algorithms, secure socket layer communications, and penetration testing methodologies. Understanding the strategies for defending against database injections, cross-site scripting, and other similar cyber attacks was crucial, not just for protecting my own code but for identifying vulnerabilities in others''. While none of the things went into too much depth, as was to be expected of a ¡°mere¡± level 3 knowledge download, the sheer vastness of it was still staggering to behold. The realisation of just how vast the realm of [Programming] was hit me like a freight train. I found myself teetering on the edge of an immense iceberg of knowledge, peering into the crystal-clear depths below, where the vast uncharted territories of advanced programming lay hidden. Before this knowledge download, many of these concepts were entirely foreign to me, to the point I hadn¡¯t even known most of them were a thing in the first place. Now, not only was I aware of their existence and their fundamental applications, but I was also acutely conscious of the breadth and depth of understanding I still lacked. It was a humbling realisation, one that sparked a voracious appetite within me. The duality of this revelation was both inspiring and daunting. I found myself marvelling at the thought of acquiring such complex knowledge without the aid of the G.E.M.A. System. The discipline of [Programming] encompassed an incredibly broad spectrum of topics, each interlinking with the next in a complex web of knowledge. "How do people learn [Programming] without a direct knowledge download? How do they navigate through this insane sea of information without something like the G.E.M.A. System to help them out¡­?" These questions swirled in my mind, as I tried to regain some semblance of coherent thought to continue following Kill Joy¡¯s lesson. However, it wasn''t long before I realised I was in dire need of a break, so with a profound exhale, I disconnected the SPG-01 shard and came back to reality. My mind was pulsating, overwhelmed not just by the deluge of knowledge from the System but also by the effort to grasp and understand the myriad complexities of this new world. The G.E.M.A. System might have been my cheat-like gateway to instant knowledge and Skills, but the journey to truly comprehend this world''s nuances, be it inter-social or mechanic, was mine to undertake on my own. Take the difference between the two disciplines of [Quick-Hacks], for instance. This was something I needed to wrap my head around beyond what the System could simply download into my brain as part of the Skill knowledge downloads. Understanding when and how to apply each discipline was crucial. I had to grasp the advantages, limitations, and specific uses of each to make informed decisions about future purchases as well¡ªwhether it was decks, implants, or Crowns. Investing in the wrong tech could mean squandering resources on something that wouldn''t deliver the most bang for my, very limited, bucks. So, despite the immense boost the System gave me, there was still a significant portion of learning that required my active engagement and critical thinking. And right now, my brain felt like it was mired in molasses, utterly unsuited for the kind of sharp, focused contemplation necessary for that level of self-directed learning. Checking over the stored up Notifications, I did feel slightly better, however. Seeing numbers go brr was always very satisfying and helped ease my headaches, even in my past life¡ªa good ol¡¯ session of two to three hours of Wood Cutting grinding had never failed to make me feel better, after all.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: [Quick-Hacks] Skill unlocked. [System]: 300xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: Intellect has reached 3. [System]: [Programming] Skill has reached Level 3.
The gains from my efforts today might not have been monumental in terms of numbers, but their impact was undeniably significant. I was on the cusp of reaching level 2 in [Netrunning], and I had also taken my first solid steps into the realm of [Quick-Hacks]. Although the journey to becoming a skilled netrunner loomed large ahead, I could finally see tangible progress toward that lofty goal¡ªand, by extension, toward squaring my substantial debt with Gabe, a task that remained a priority on my ever-growing list of things to do. Yet, as the day wound down, I found myself succumbing to a familiar exhaustion, the kind that follows a day filled with relentless challenges. Seeking a semblance of relaxation, I resorted to [Juggling] with my ever-reliable sockballs. I wasn¡¯t aiming for anything in particular, but I was feeling similar to how I had always felt when I started a new grind-heavy video game in my past life: Not doing anything was a waste of time. Even if I wanted to relax, to shut down a bit and just chill for a while, I definitely knew that I wouldn¡¯t be able to, if I wasn¡¯t doing something on the side that made the numbers go brr. The evening had slipped by quicker than usual, thanks in part to the extended hours at Mr. Shori¡¯s, when suddenly, a message flashed into my vision, jolting me from my relaxation with its unexpected arrival. ¡°Ah, fuck! Jesus christ, was that necessary?!¡± I let out involuntarily at the startlingly abrupt return to reality. I steadied my racing heart before opening it, recognizing the now-familiar (Insufficient Access) tag that my cerebral interface had conveniently translated to ¡°Mr. Stirling¡±.
[Next data-collection, tomorrow. (Information attached).]
His message, ever succinct, snapped me out of my brief respite and catapulted me back into the high-stakes world of corporate espionage and debt repayment. There was no more time for relaxation; duty called, and with it, the relentless march toward settling my obligations. Diving into the info packet, a few things immediately grabbed my attention. For starters, the gig for tomorrow wasn''t on any restricted floors. Instead, I was heading down to the 33rd floor. Also owned by Falkum Industries, this level wasn''t just for living; it was also a hub for shopping and marketplaces. I had a hunch this place might feel a lot like the 31st floor, which was Rockefeller Inc''s turf. That''s the same floor where I had checked out Misha¡¯s Emporium and Circuit Locks just a few days back, so I had a rough idea of what to expect. Pulling up the always in-depth maps and notes from Mr. Stirling¡¯s data package, I went over the same planning as I had done for the last data collection, namely: Searching for escape routes, should shit go wrong. I earmarked the nearest elevators, restricted elevators, shops and hiding places, just in case. Finally, I read through the exact rundown provided as well, to figure out what exactly it was that I was there to retrieve. ¡°So, I¡¯ll have to get a data-shard from this location¡­ Not interacting with any people tomorrow, that should be a lot less complicated then. Just go in there, pick up the shard, hand it off to Mr. Stirling and we¡¯re golden. No biggy,¡± I muttered to myself, while doing my best to ignore the myriad of flags I was raising for things to go horribly, horribly wrong. After triple-checking the mission details to make sure I didn''t miss any crucial info, escape paths, or mission specifics, I put together a quick summary for Valeria and shot it her way. ''Better keep the boss lady in the loop, or it''s my head on the line,'' I thought, the idea amusing and terrifying me in equal measure. My situation with Valeria was, to put it mildly, complicated. She was essentially my landlord, providing the roof over my head, and a vital link to some potentially game-changing contacts and opportunities. At the same time, however, I could not help but see her as a substantial threat to both my physical and mental health, considering the recent brush with NeuroCorpse. I couldn¡¯t fault original Sera for leaving home often, if that entire incident was more of a common occurrence, but based on Gabe¡¯s reaction and the brief talk we had shared about the incident, it was a one-off thing that has never happened before. So, here I was, torn on what to think about my ¡°mother.¡± Was Valeria an ally to keep close, or a danger to steer clear from? For now, the scales in my mind tipped in favour of her being more useful than harmful¡ªespecially after that sizable restricted credits shard she had handed me¡ª, assuming Gabe''s take was on the mark. Furthermore, by playing along with Valeria¡¯s demands, I was also banking on earning some leeway, a sort of safety net against any future slip-ups to keep me safe. That was the plan, at least. Was I making tons of enabler-like excuses simply because I also just really wanted a family to come home to, as strange, toxic and utterly dysfunctional as some of their members appeared to be? Maybe, potentially, absolutely yes. I wouldn¡¯t ever admit to it openly, however. Growing up, my childhood was a series of moves from one foster home to another, each one leaving its own mark, rarely for the better. My concept of family was pieced together from fleeting glimpses into my friends'' lives during sleepovers, offering me a window into what might have been. Neglect, abuse and¡­ worse had shaped my early years, convincing me that maybe closeness wasn''t for me. But that belief was challenged the moment I found myself living Sera¡¯s life and met Oliver on that very first day. It had dawned on me that I had been absolutely craving connection, longing for someone to genuinely care. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. So, facing the complexities of this new family, especially after the unsettling incident with Valeria, was I ready to walk away, considering it might have been a solitary lapse as Gabriel suggested? I knew I wouldn''t. That I couldn¡¯t. This felt like my shot at something I''d longed for¡ªa real family. Despite the initial hiccup with Valeria, which was seriously messed up, abandoning this chance wasn''t an option for me. Not yet. And then there was Aki, her situation possibly echoing or even surpassing the difficulties I faced with Valeria. It made me wonder if what I was experiencing was just the norm here. With limited insight into the typical family dynamics of this world¡ªI mean, gameplay videos hardly cover the domestic life of your average citizen¡ªI was navigating blindly. But I was determined to make the most of this opportunity, to give this family thing all I had. After all, who''s to say Valeria wasn''t just being a typical mom in this world''s standards? Without more context, it''s hard to judge. But I was willing to find out, to learn and adapt, and, if push came to shove, make a difficult choice. But I was only going to make that choice when I was fully ready. Ready to accept the consequences; to throw away what little I had been granted by the cosmic mulligan of Sera¡¯s life; to live in this world without a safety net. Valeria, despite everything, was, after all, providing something irreplaceable to me¡ªa secure home. In a world like Neon Dragons, having access to a restricted floor, that was fully secure from any scavs, gangers or otherwise, was an absolute game changer for what you could do. Just taking my time in this world as a prime example: If Valeria hadn¡¯t been Sera¡¯s mother and I wasn¡¯t living on this floor, I would not have ever considered leaving the apartment before I reached at least 3 or higher in Body. Walking out on that first day, the moment I had reached a walkable stage was only something I had done, because I knew that I¡¯d be safe on this floor. That the moment I returned here, I was out of reach for just about anyone that might put their eyes on me this early on. This level of safety was absolutely invaluable and nothing I could even come close to, if I tried to head out on my own right now. It was something I always had to keep in mind during my dealings with Valeria, at all times, no matter how much her actions irked or downright infuriated me. And deep down, the part that really wanted to forgive and forget, simply live the life of a normal girl with a proper family, was similarly hoping that maybe, just maybe, Valeria might have had a good reason for the things she had done outside of a vain sense of hurt pride. But all those considerations were something for another time; a time where I was more prepared and actually had the capability to make a choice. For now, I sent off the information to Valeria, in accordance with her wishes, to earn me a buffer, should I accidentally slip up again in the future. Right after, I checked the [Task] interface, to see whether my thoughts from before about the individual Data-Collection tasks were correct. Much to my delight, it seemed that they had been.
[Task Accepted: Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (Second Data Collection)] [Description: Collect and deliver the data to Mr. Stirling from floor 33 of the Delta Mega Building. 0/1 Data Collected. Time Limit: 29:01:33.] [Reward: 100 Character Experience + 1 General Skill Point]
¡®Another free, General Skill Point! This debt repayment is absolutely amazing,¡¯ I thought to myself, giggling excitedly to myself. I had initially been annoyed at the fact that Valeria had pawned off the debt to me, even though it was technically correct that I had incurred it, but by now, I was more than happy to take part in this. Sure, the whole corporate espionage aspect was extremely dangerous, but when I was essentially promised 2-4 General Skill Points, a General Perk Point, as well as enough experience to get my General Level to 1? I really couldn¡¯t complain about improper rewards. The System was more than generous in my eyes, considering how thoroughly amazing the rewards were for the risks involved¡ªas long as everything went smoothly, of course. With those thoughts in mind and a thoroughly exhausted brain, ready to punch out, I decided to finally take that shower I had deferred after coming home in favour of the SPG-01 shard¡¯s digital world. Now that I had finished all my tasks for the day, however, I could finally indulge myself in some idle vanity¡­
After my usual morning workout the following day, by the time I returned to the apartment, I was eagerly anticipating a refreshing shower once again. The session had been particularly intense; I had experimented with various methods to ramp up the difficulty of my routine, all in an effort to maximise the experience gains per hour that had recently started diminishing rather drastically with my increased Skill levels. Once back, I sifted through the Notifications accumulated over the morning, curious to see if my efforts had paid off in boosting my experience yield.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: 400xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 0xp. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: [Acrobatics] Skill has reached Level 2.
Reviewing my morning workout''s experience gains left me with mixed feelings. While the Body, Edge, and [Acrobatics] Skills had seen a noticeable improvement thanks to my revised routine, the outcome didn''t fully satisfy me. Despite pushing myself significantly harder, resulting in about 50-60% more effort, the returns¡ªa mere 15-20% increase in gains¡ªhardly seemed worth the additional exhaustion. It was immediately clear that sustaining this level of exertion wasn''t practical for the long haul. The prospect of needing to employ the Rest Function mid-day crossed my mind, but this would mean forgoing valuable hours that could be spent enhancing my Skills. This balance of effort versus reward would require further tweaking; my current approach was neither sustainable nor efficient. However, the gains from today were definitely welcome, especially that bump in the [Acrobatics] Skill. Upon reaching level 2 in [Acrobatics], the System¡¯s knowledge download and muscle memory enhancements had shifted from the basic fall prevention techniques to more refined acrobatic manoeuvres. This had included the principles of rolling to dissipate impact energy efficiently, basic tumbling techniques for increased agility, and the fundamentals of balance maintenance on varying surfaces. Additionally, I was introduced to the concept of dynamic jumping¡ªunderstanding how to calculate and execute jumps for distance and height with vastly increased precision. The enhancements also covered the beginnings of aerial awareness, teaching me how to orient my body during flips or jumps to land safely. This new layer of acrobatic knowledge not only aimed to improve physical performance but also to minimise the risk of injury during more complex movements, laying a foundational skill set that could be built upon with further practice and experience¡ªor levels. It had been a fairly small knowledge download, in the grand scheme of things, but I could tell that the knowledge wasn¡¯t necessarily the point for this one in particular. It was the muscle memory that came alongside the knowledge, which was far and away more important in every way. I had gotten the level up around halfway through my usual jog, but the instant it hit, I could absolutely feel the difference in my stride instantly. I was using less energy to do the cartwheels that I used to train my [Acrobatics] mid-run, they were more fluid in every way and even my basic walking, running and sprinting had gotten a tangible, but impossible to describe upgrade. My best attempt to do so would be to say that it was like I was simply conserving the energy of movement slightly more efficiently than before, through subtle changes in the way my muscles responded to every impact. It honestly felt amazing. But with all that out of the way for the day, I had only really one more thing to cross of my usual routine for today, before I delved back into the world of corporate espionage: My usual shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s¡­
PoV: Jade Jade felt excited for the first time since that damned assignment had been given to her. Yesterday had been a massive breakthrough in observing and gathering intel on the enigmatic ¡°Ela,¡± as she had finally gotten a first-hand look at some of the girl¡¯s real capabilities. She wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it was because she had passed some form of test, that she was unable to properly detect, or whether she had simply been deemed a non-threat by Ela, but Jade didn¡¯t really care either way: She finally had something tangible on the girl. Both the strange cutting technique that seemed to simply allow her knife to move through infamously cut-resistant ingredients, as well as her spectre-like movement that left no traces, were things that would undoubtedly interest Vega. Today was promising to shape up in a similar fashion, as Ela had arrived at Mr. Shori¡¯s just shortly after Jade¡ªshe may have been a bit too over-eager to continue her investigation after yesterday¡¯s success and had arrived way too early¡ªand been all smiles about seeing ¡°Aki¡± again. While Jade was still thoroughly confused about Ela¡¯s motives, operations or really, anything about the girl, one thing seemed certain by now: She really liked the character of ¡°Aki¡± that Jade was putting on for her. It was clear to her that Ela knew it was all an act, based on her continued allusions towards Jade¡¯s real person, but who was she to judge how somebody enjoyed their interpersonal relationships? If Ela was willing to engage with ¡°Aki¡± and show her glimpses of her true capabilities as a reward, she would play ¡°Aki¡± as long as she had to¡­
Their shift at Shori¡¯s Noodles was coming to a close by now, the two of them having shared very few words outside of Ela¡¯s usual tricks, proddings and infuriatingly enigmatic comments, but Jade had gladly played along. There was nothing new that she had picked up from today, except for the fact that she had paid even closer attention to the girl¡¯s movements than usual, which had revealed one peculiar aspect of her capabilities: She was not leaving any footsteps, anywhere at any point in time. ¡®I don¡¯t know whether this has always been the case, or she simply stopped holding back after yesterday¡¯s breakthrough,¡¯ Jade thought to herself, kicking herself mentally for not paying more attention to this kind of stuff before. She couldn¡¯t remember whether Ela had ever left footsteps, or not. It seemed like such a stupid question; such a simple thing to observe, yet she hadn¡¯t even thought about somebody her age having access to such high-tier cybernetics or bionics, so the idea of checking for somebody¡¯s footprints, who wasn¡¯t trying to hide at all, seemed utterly ludicrous in the first place. Well, this wasn¡¯t quite true. It wasn¡¯t as much the access, but the capacity to handle such high-tier parts, specifically. When it came to cybernetics, especially, getting something like a T3 Feather Step, which was the lowest-Tier cybernetic part that Jade knew could produce similar results to what Ela was showing, the toll on the body, and mind especially, was tremendous. For somebody her age, the toll should be utterly insurmountable; downright impossible to bear. ¡®It has to be bionics. There¡¯s no shot she would survive a T3 cybernetic in both legs at this age, no matter how insane she is as an Op,¡¯ Jade mused while intently staring at Ela¡¯s calves. ¡®But that would mean her means are far beyond anything that I, or even Vega, anticipated, too. Custom T3 bionics like that would cost an absolute fortune for somebody her age¡­ I doubt even Vega could afford a single leg like that, much less two customized ones...¡¯ Bionics were, after all, a lot easier on the body and mind than cybernetics were. They were, when pitted directly against each other, vastly worse in price to performance, but their limited impact on the body¡¯s functions and the reduced risk of any Mindshatter incidents was often worth the increased cost for those that had the means, at least when it came to young scions, like Ela might be. Nevertheless, she did not have enough information about the exact art of the girl¡¯s enhancements, so she didn¡¯t want to jump to conclusions quite yet. Assumptions were incredibly dangerous, after all, as they tainted one¡¯s entire point of view towards a certain observation, rather than objectively coming to a conclusion based on facts. It was something that Vega had taught her since early on, to be extremely wary of, and she tried to live this advice to the fullest every day. It was one of those profound teachings that really paid dividends decades down the line, after one had fully ingrained it into their being¡ªsomething that Jade felt she was getting close to with this one in particular¡­
One somewhat surprising thing did happen during today¡¯s observation, however: Ela excused herself from Shori¡¯s Noodles earlier than yesterday. Jade wasn¡¯t entirely sure if that was her usual shift or not¡ªher prior observations hinting towards it not being part of her usual routine¡ª, but her senses told her that this was a perfect opportunity. One she couldn¡¯t afford to miss. Waiting for the girl to have left, she also excused herself with Mr. Shori¡¯s blessings, before quickly shadowing Ela, as best she could. Surprisingly enough, it didn¡¯t seem like Ela cared much, as Jade had no trouble following her. ¡®Does she want to show me something¡­? She must be, right? Why else would she just openly announce she¡¯s going early and then not employ any of her stealthing capabilities to shake me off?¡¯ Jade thought to herself as she ducked into a nearby alley, to avoid any potential run-ins with Ela directly. Her suspicions were confirmed, when the girl abruptly veered off of her usual path. Instead of going for the restricted elevators like she usually did, she joined the rest of the throng of people in joining the bog-standard elevator instead. Quickly zooming in with her Ondul Mk.3 optical implants, she saw how Ela openly punched in her intent to go to the 33rd floor into the console. ¡®You¡¯re trying to show me something on the 33rd floor¡­? What¡¯s on the 33rd floor Ela?¡¯ With quick steps, Jade rushed towards the nearest elevator and similarly punched in her intent to go to the 33rd floor. This was her chance to get even more intel on Ela, and one she would absolutely not miss for anything¡­ Chapter 45 - Second Data Collection Inside the elevator that was making its way to the 33rd floor, I found myself meticulously reviewing Mr. Stirling''s information packet one more time. ''Alright, I''ve got my emergency exit routes down pat, the pick-up location is clearly highlighted, and the code for the cache holding the shard is memorised,'' I ticked off each crucial point in my head. ''Everything seems in order. Hopefully, this mission will be as smooth as the previous one...'' Yet, a persistent sense of unease nagged at me, a shadow of doubt that I couldn''t quite dismiss. Unlike my previous task, where I was acutely aware of being out of my element, this time brought a different kind of anxiety. It was as if something was amiss, something crucial that I was failing to see. This subtle apprehension, hidden beneath my well-laid plans, left me feeling unsettled as the elevator continued its ascent, regardless of how much I tried to reassure myself that I had everything covered. Having ensured my spot at the elevator''s rear upon setting the 33rd floor as my destination, I took the opportunity to slip into my Pseudo-Tier 1 bomber jacket and scarf. These items, meticulously folded and subsequently violently crumpled to occupy minimal space, had been packed into the first bag I could find at home. Driven by the urgency to tackle the second instalment of my debt repayment head-on, I had chosen to bring the bare essentials along, bypassing the need for a return trip home to gear up¡ªa decision aimed at maximising my time efficiency, especially given the pressing need to advance my [Quick-Hacks] Skill. Regrettably, my Pseudo-Tier 1 cargo pants were left behind; their bulkiness defied my best efforts to fit them into the small, plastic bag I''d chosen¡ªI had tried. A lot. ''It should work out, nonetheless...'' I mentally reassured myself, attempting to quell the burgeoning anxiety within me once again. I figured that this unease, perhaps, stemmed from the deviation in my preparatory routine for this mission as opposed to the previous one. I could definitely see how the omission of even a single piece of equipment could feel like an unsettling departure from the familiar, adding a layer of discomfort to my mental state. Yet, regardless of my internal reservations, my commitment to the task at hand remained unwavering. With my mental schedule tightly packed with virtual sessions with Kill Joy¡¯s alter-ego and intensive [Quick-Hacks] training marked as "all day, every day, once available," there was no turning back now. The last thing I did was to move my knife holster slightly more towards the left side. Ever since I had acquired [Ambidexterity], I had started to come up with a rough plan for how to make best use of it, starting with the very basic question of ¡°Which hand should I use for combat primarily?¡± The answer had been more complex than I had first anticipated, going through it in my mind, but the general idea was very simple: There are vastly fewer lefties than righties, so most people will expect your main hand to be your right one. Capitalising on this presumption, I intentionally configured my Operator gear in direct contrast to my usual setup, which favoured a right-handed approach, preparing my knife for a left-handed draw instead. This minor modification, while perhaps negligible to the keen eye of a seasoned fighter¡ªlike Mr. Stirling, who had effortlessly noted the exact location and type of my knife during our first post-shopping encounter, despite never having a chance to see it¡ªcould be a game-changer against less experienced adversaries or those who might underestimate me. In situations where every split-second and element of surprise counted, this could very well be the deciding factor between life and death. The fact that it required no extra effort or cost to implement this adjustment made it an unquestionably smart and necessary alteration in my eyes. Now fully prepared and equipped, I went over the mission-data one last time, finishing just shortly before the elevator finally reached the 33rd floor, after half a dozen stops at different floors. As the elevator doors slid open, I pushed my way through the crowd to step out, immediately struck by a sight that felt eerily familiar. A bold emblem caught my eye, showcasing a stylized combination of F and I, intertwined with patterns resembling circuitry, set against a backdrop that shimmered in shades of blue and black¡ªor perhaps white and gold under a different set of lights. This was the mark of Falkum Industries, the very corporation under Mr. Stirling''s microscope. This setting brought a sense of deja vu, reminiscent of my encounter on the 31st floor, which had been under the dominion of Rockefeller Inc. There, too, I was met with a grand display of corporate identity, where the emblem took centre stage, relegating the floor''s other visual elements to mere supporting roles. Such deliberate branding seemed to be a strategic move, especially on floors like the 33rd and 31st, designated for public access and marked as shopping havens in the elevators of the megabuilding. By dominating the visual landscape with their emblems, these corporations ensured that visitors'' attention was continuously drawn back to them, embedding their presence in the minds of shoppers. It was a very on-the-nose form of corporate advertising, but one that was extremely common-place in this world, if my countless hours of Neon Dragons playthroughs and Let¡¯s Plays were anything to go by. Even in this world, no corporation could go without an ever-increasing churn of workers to replace the ones that had been used up and spit out. Stepping away from the elevator, I immediately picked up on a notable, and extremely welcome, difference from my previous foray onto a corporation-controlled floor¡ªthis time, there was no security checkpoint to pass through. Falkum Industries, it appeared, didn''t place as much emphasis on security measures as Rockefeller Inc did, which aligned perfectly with the nature of their businesses. While Rockefeller Inc. delved into the realms of weaponry and armour, catering to high-tech military applications, Falkum Industries charted a different course. They were in the medical field, echoing the pursuits of Ether Labs with their focus squarely on pharmaceuticals, bionics, and cybernetics instead of the more martial-focused inventory of Rockefeller Inc. This distinction was evident right from the get-go, as the first few stores I encountered were pharmacies and apothecaries, showcasing an extensive range of medications for all to see. I couldn''t help but wonder if these stores were strategically placed near the elevators to immediately set the tone for Falkum Industries'' corporate image, or if it was just a coincidence at this particular entrance, that I just so happened to have chosen at random. Navigating the floor, I stumbled upon the first intersection, where I observed several private military contractors sporting the Falkum emblem. Their demeanour varied from sheer boredom to keen vigilance, tasked with maintaining order on the premises. Each of them was armed with an array of clearly non-lethal gear, including batons, stun-knuckles, and even one of them was sporting a baseball bat, which caught me slightly off guard. However, what truly stood out was the very real-looking firearms each guard carried at their side¡ªpistols, judging from my somewhat limited understanding of firearms. This indicated that despite Falkum Industries'' primary focus on medical technologies, they didn''t take security lightly on their shopping floors either. In a world where corporate reputation was paramount, maintaining stringent security was essential. Any lapse could tarnish their public image, providing an opportunity for rival corporations to capitalise on their missteps and take over their market position in a matter of days¡ªall it took was a single spark to light the fire of a corporation¡¯s downfall, and Falkum Industries seemed very aware of that. ¡®Seems like they¡¯ve also stationed guards at key points, much like Rockefeller Inc¡­ Good to know,¡¯ I thought, updating my map with a little warning icon at every intersection, preparing for any scenario where things might take an unexpected turn. As I continued to meander through the bustling thoroughfare of the 33rd floor, taking in the varied assortment of shops and boutiques, a notable contrast to the 31st floor''s layout emerged, marking another distinct philosophy between Falkum Industries and Rockefeller Inc. Unlike the 31st floor, which presented itself as an expansive commercial haven dedicated solely to retail, the 33rd floor wove residential units amidst its commercial tapestry. Blocks of apartments were interspersed among the stores, some areas leaning heavily residential with only a sparse scattering of commercial ventures. This architectural divergence highlighted a fundamental difference in vision; Rockefeller Inc. aimed to craft a shopping-centric oasis, akin to a sprawling, mid-level mall, whereas Falkum Industries appeared to champion a mixed-use approach, echoing the dynamic pulse of inner-city living reminiscent of my previous life. This blend of living spaces and commerce lent the floor a more integrated, community-like feel, to some degree. However, from a tactical standpoint, the inclusion of residential areas presented a slight complication for me. The stretches dominated by apartments thinned the crowds, diminishing the opportunities to merge seamlessly with a throng of people for cover. Should the need arise to evade any potential pursuers, the denser, shop-laden areas would offer vastly better camouflage. I made a mental note to prioritise these bustling commercial zones as potential havens and marked the blocks that I could see, which featured primarily apartments, in yellow on my map. ¡®It''s like I''m drafting the first-ever guide to floor 33, pinpointing all perilous spots and areas of interest, for my non-existent guildmates,¡¯ I reflected, amusement lacing my internal monologue. The way I methodically went through each area and marked them on my map, truly did feel like playing one of those older games that didn¡¯t have an automatic map feature or any quest markers. Pen and paper was all I had now¡ªwell, except it was a digital map in my cerebral interface, taken from a scan of the floor; and I was marking it with a mere thought, rather than a pen. But still, it was basically the same! I made no haste to get towards my mission area, taking a book out of every spy movie I had ever watched, by simply pretending to be another strolling citizen. I even stopped and looked at some stores at times; rarely even entering and taking a closer look at a random item here or there, before returning back to my walk towards the data collection point. While I wanted to get this over and done with fast, in order to get back to my [Quick-Hacks] lessons as soon as possible, I was not going to risk anything by being sloppy here¡ªI had spent too much time mulling over and preparing for this task to mess it up on the last steps. Ultimately, however, no matter how slow I walked, how many stores I checked and how much I tried to blend into the crowd, I still could not shake the feeling of anxiety in my chest. It felt as if I was perpetually being watched by someone, yet I knew that that was downright impossible, considering the myriad steps I had taken to shake off any suspicion on me ever since entering the floor. For any potential observers, there was absolutely no shot they wouldn¡¯t think I¡¯m just a random shopper. With the unease refusing to let up, however, I simply had to resort to shovelling it into the back of my mind, in order to fully concentrate on the mission at hand. Whatever was causing this perpetual anxiety would have to simply wait to be dealt with until after I was done here¡­
About an hour and a half into my trip to the 33rd floor, I finally reached the block that held the mission objective. I was still quite a few buildings away, but my alertness heightened drastically as I realised that I was about to properly start working on the task. I had spent a vast amount of time pretending to be a shopper, but now it was time to drop that act and get fully into Operator-mode. I swerved off of the thoroughfare into a nearby alley between two apartments¡ªspecifically chosen as it wouldn¡¯t have any passersby lingering around, unlike alleys between shops. I quickly made my way further into the alley, around halfway, before I ducked behind a few trash containers and waited. ¡®Let¡¯s see if somebody was following me after all,¡¯ I thought to myself as my heart started beating quicker. I wanted to make absolutely sure that my next moves weren¡¯t seen by anyone, as I had come up with a gameplan to scout out the drop-off area before I had to go there myself. I waited for around ten minutes, hidden behind the trash containers that blocked any view from outside the alley to my front and back, but I heard nothing, nor saw anyone trying to check where I was. My Edge had reached 3 just shortly before my [Stealth] Skill had and the knowledge I had gained and the knowledge I had gathered from before combined, told me in no uncertain terms that this was definitely not a surefire way to detect anyone that might be shadowing me, but it was a good start to try and spook out any less patient pursuers. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. For my purposes, that was good enough. I didn¡¯t think that anybody was following me, but I wanted to make sure to do at least the absolute minimum necessary to make sure they weren¡¯t. I was stepping on dangerous ground with this whole corporate espionage topic, after all. "Okay, Sera, let''s do this," I encouraged myself, pausing to glance at the apartment to my left. The architecture within the megabuilding brought its own set of quirks, and my plan hinged on one such peculiarity. Unlike traditional structures where apartments stretch to match the floor''s height, contributing to the building''s overall structural stability, megabuildings in Neon Dragons defied this norm quite a number of times. While many apartments did stack one atop another within a vast single floor¡ªmimicking conventional apartment blocks¡ªsome ended abruptly, not reaching the ceiling at all. This anomaly, while initially baffling to me, considering it contradicted everything I understood about building design, proved to be extremely beneficial for what I had in mind. Dashing towards the wall, I propelled my left foot against it with intent. Instantly, the sensation was surreal; the [Wall Runner] Perk activated, creating a bizarre feeling as if gravity itself had shifted beneath me. It felt like the world had tilted, with the wall now the floor under my feet, and the pull of gravity now guided my ascent along the apartment''s side. I felt the intangible, internal reservoir of the Perk''s energy starting to deplete quickly, a clear indicator of the duration that remained on my vertical sprint. Despite the disorienting shift, my enhanced physical capabilities, bolstered by my Body attribute now at a 4, allowed me to quickly scale the structure within the roughly three-second window provided by the Perk. Reaching the rooftop brought a wash of relief over me. It was just as I had predicted: A flat expanse reminiscent of the rooftop gatherings and secret rendezvous depicted in films from my previous life, minus any dramatic, smoking figures silhouetted against the skyline. While I had mentally rehearsed several flimsy justifications for my presence here, anticipating the potential need to explain my unconventional approach to any onlookers, the empty rooftop rendered my preparations unnecessary. My relief was more than palpable, spared from the embarrassment of weaving tales that relied more on the shock factor than any type of coherence that could be found. ¡®Alright, part one of the plan was a success with no complications. Good shit,¡¯ I congratulated myself as I took some deep breaths to calm my beating heart. Running up an entire apartment building, even if it had only been around 15 metres tall, had been exhilarating beyond belief. [Wall Runner] was a ludicrous Perk that made a complete joke of any laws of physics that I knew of. Making my way cautiously across the roof, I advanced towards the edge overlooking the thoroughfare below. This segment of the floor, marked by its scarcity of shops, naturally experienced a lower volume of pedestrians. It made sense why Mr. Stirling''s contact had selected this locale for the drop-off¡ªa strategic choice to minimise the risk of unwanted attention. Peering down into the alley that was my final destination, where the data-shard was cleverly concealed, my eyes scanned the environment for any signs of the cache. But the moment my gaze landed on the designated spot, my body tensed, adrenaline surging anew. Below, in the very alley where the data-shard awaited, a group was already present, their actions unmistakable. They were searching, meticulously inspecting every nook and cranny with a purpose that suggested they were well aware of what they hoped to find. The sight of these individuals, clearly not just passersby but individuals with an intent that could dangerously intersect with my own mission, sent a chill down my spine. My mind raced, evaluating options. Approaching them was out of the question¡ªthe risk of confrontation was too high, and with my current equipment, Attributes and Skills, I wasn''t prepared for a direct encounter. Observing from the rooftop offered a vantage point, but it also left me exposed to anyone who might glance upwards; unlikely to occur, but still a possibility. For a moment, I considered retreating, re-evaluating my approach entirely or maybe even asking Mr. Stirling for advice, but I had already gotten so far by myself, that I didn¡¯t quite want to take this step yet. I didn¡¯t know how asking the ¡°quest-giver¡±, so to speak, for assistance would affect my Task rewards from the System either. I could not afford to risk losing a full General Skill Point, simply because I got spooked by some complications. Silently, I crouched, minimising my silhouette against the ceiling behind me, eyes locked on the group below. I needed to understand their pattern, identify a moment of opportunity when their attention was elsewhere. The mission wasn''t just about a simple retrieval and delivery anymore; it was now about doing so undetected, outsmarting those who might have their own claims on the data-shard. ''Alright, think, Sera. There''s gotta be a way to get the shard,'' I whispered to myself, steeling my nerves for the next phase of this unexpected change of plans. For starters, I needed more information. Without understanding their purpose or connection to the shard, any action I took would be a massive gamble. So, there I was, lying flat on the rooftop, carefully observing the group in the alleyway from my concealed vantage point for god knows how long this was going to take¡ªso much for getting back to my [Quick-Hacks] on the quick¡­
For what felt like an eternity but was only about thirty minutes, I scrutinised their every move, trying to decipher their intentions. The breakthrough came when one of them unearthed the hidden cache around twenty minutes into my observations, confirming my suspicion¡ªthey were indeed after the same data-shard I was tasked to retrieve. My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to remain calm and continue watching. They struggled with the cache, clearly lacking the necessary code to access it. This small yet crucial detail provided a glimmer of hope. After several futile attempts at forcing it open, the dynamics within the group shifted, bringing a new character into the spotlight¡ªa woman who pulled out a cyberdeck from her backpack with the confidence of someone who knew her way around such tech. She was unmistakably the netrunner of their crew, further underscored by the obvious cybernetic implant on the right side of her temple. This observation was both alarming and enlightening. While it confirmed that the group was well-prepared and likely dangerous, it also highlighted their current limitation so far¡ªthey couldn¡¯t open the cache. It gave me a window, albeit a small and risky one, to formulate a plan. As luck would have it, the netrunner''s easily irritable nature worked in my favour. Mere moments after she began her attempt to hack into the cache, her patience wore thin. She erupted in frustration, barking at her companions to ¡°fuck off to the other end of the alley,¡± demanding space to concentrate on her task. This unexpected turn of events presented a golden opportunity to me. With the woman now isolated, a window for action had cracked open. I silently weighed my options, steeling my nerves for what I knew had to come next. Despite the risks, I couldn''t pass up this chance. ¡®I¡¯m gonna have to get in close and choke her out, so I can access the cache, get the shard and book it,¡¯ I consciously thought the words inside of my head, as if that would make me less anxious about the idea, somehow. My recent progress in the Edge skill had not only deepened my understanding of stealth but also introduced me to some of the more shadow-y elements of combat. Among these was a technique for incapacitating someone quietly from behind¡ªsomething I obviously hadn''t yet tested in the real world. However, I trusted the muscle memory the System had ingrained in me through its detailed knowledge downloads, as it always gave me perfect muscle memory, regardless of whether I had attempted an action before or not. The real challenge, I knew, lay in the aftermath of my action. Successfully neutralising the netrunner and securing the shard was one thing, and while definitely a hurdle for my current self, not impossible, but the potential fallout was another. If she had set up any alarms, could make some sort of noise that I hadn¡¯t anticipated, or somehow alert her crew with her netrunning implant, I''d be in deep trouble. But try as I might, I could not come up with a better plan on the quick. I had to take this rare opportunity given to me by her irritable nature, regardless of the potential risks involved. If I waited any longer, the rest of the crew might get too antsy, or even worse, she might manage to break into the cache. I had no idea how secure the cache was, after all. For all I knew it would only take her a handful of minutes to break through its security and crack it open like an egg, taking the data-shard from within and depriving me of my just rewards. I crawled backwards away from the edge, then got up and looked for an easy way down into the alley I had previously come from. It would give me a nearly straight-shot towards the other alley, which would allow me to keep an eye on the woman during my approach. I recognized quickly, however, that going down was a lot harder than going up. I didn¡¯t have the [Climbing] Skill unlocked yet, much less at a level where it would actually help me, yet the thought of using [Wall Runner] to full-sprint down the side of the apartment, what was essentially a building, right towards the ground was something I could not really make work with my brain quite yet. As such, I simply had to take it very slowly and carefully, trying my best to climb down from the roof of the apartment, taking intermittent breaks on outcrops and windowsills as best I could. Thanks to my very limited weight and above-average physical fitness, however, it ended up being surprisingly doable. It only took me about three minutes to reach the ground again, perfectly hidden behind the large trash containers once again. ¡°Alright, Sera. It¡¯s showtime,¡± I muttered to pump myself up, as I pulled the scarf above and around my head, like a sort of veil covering my entire head but the eyes. There was a very real chance somebody might see me do this, so I wanted to reduce the chance of anyone being able to identify me. While there were a myriad of ways in this world to track somebody down, even without having seen their face, it would make it a lot harder for random people to do so. I paused for a moment to ensure my knife was securely in place, still snug in its holster after my cautious descent. With a swift glance around, I moved through the alley, heading towards my target. Ahead lay a side street I needed to cross to reach the alley where the cache was hidden. Fortunately, this section of the block, sandwiched between apartment buildings, was sparsely populated. Few people ventured here, providing an ideal cover for my movements. Peering around the alley''s corner, I confirmed the coast was clear. The only souls in sight were a trio already past me, their backs turned and moving further away. Gathering my nerves, I took a deep breath and dashed across the street, quickly slipping behind a cluster of trash containers that so readily dotted the alleyways in the megabuilding. Freezing in place, I stilled every muscle and focused on my surroundings, my breaths shallow and silent. I strained my ears, listening intently for any hint of detection. But all I could discern was the rush of adrenaline-fueled blood in my ears and the rapid thumping of my own heart. The quiet of the alley reassured me; for the moment, it seemed I had remained unseen. Cautiously, I navigated around the edge of the trash container until the netrunner came back into view, her fingers dancing across her deck with a series of muttered curses. ¡®Seems like I¡¯m still under the radar.¡¯ The next phase was fraught with the highest risk as I needed to close the distance between us, ensuring I remained unseen by her companions and maintained absolute silence. ¡®At least I won¡¯t have to worry about what to do once I get there¡­¡¯ I thought to myself, going over the next steps of my plan. The contact had hid the cache in a little cubby inside the alley. They had likely done so to protect it from spying eyes but now it was really going to come in handy in a different way, as I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about where to stash the woman temporarily. Choking her out would only knock her out for about half a minute at best¡ªsomething I had learned from Edge, that was entirely against everything I had learned from video games and movies, where a choked-out victim simply remained unconscious until the story called for them to wake up; or not¡ªbut I figured that it should be more than enough time to restrain her and start getting the data-shard out of the cache. The alley stretched out for about 200 metres, with the netrunner roughly 40 metres away from my position. This left a considerable distance of 160 metres between her and her crew, which I estimated they could cover in 20 to 30 seconds, assuming no advanced cybernetic enhancements. They didn''t appear to be the kind of people to possess anything beyond basic Tier 0, or maybe a rare Pseudo-Tier 1, cybernetics so my calculations were probably on the cautious side. With another deep, calming breath, I set into motion, my footsteps light and nearly inaudible, aided by the finely tuned muscle memory from my recent advancement in the [Stealth] Skill to level 3. Although I couldn''t achieve complete silence, my movements were significantly quieter than the sound of the netrunner''s typing, her crew''s distant chatter, and her occasional swearing. In just a few swift moments, I had closed the gap between us. She remained unaware of my presence as I tucked myself into the cubby right behind her, where she was intensely focused on the cache. Without a moment''s hesitation, knowing that my presence was unlikely to continue to be unnoticed by her, I allowed my Edge-induced muscle memory to guide me. My hand swiftly covered her mouth to muffle any sound, while my other arm encircled her neck, applying firm pressure on her carotid artery. The struggle was brief but intense. The netrunner fought back with the expected level of vigour, trying desperately to throw me off. However, the muscle memory I had acquired from Edge, combined with my Body of 4 closing the physical distance between our respective strengths despite our age difference, allowed me to maintain my hold. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest, and my breaths were rapid and shallow as I wrestled to keep her subdued. Finally, she ceased moving, and I continued to hold the pressure on her artery for an extra ten seconds or so, just to ensure she remained unconscious for a little longer. I knew it wouldn''t kill her, but I hoped it would keep her out for a few crucial moments more, as time was of the essence. Quickly, I tore strips from her clothing to bind her hands and feet securely, which proved rather easy, as she was wearing a stylistically ripped shirt and pants. Then, pulling her shirt over her head, I obscured her vision, a simple, quick precaution in case she regained consciousness sooner than anticipated. With no time to waste, I turned my attention to the cache. My fingers worked swiftly, entering the code I had memorised from Mr. Stirling''s data package. The task didn¡¯t require much focus, but my mind was still racing from the encounter, making it a challenge to concentrate and punch in the code properly. Moments later, a soft hiss signalled the cache''s opening, breaking the tense silence. I wasted no time, swiftly grabbing the shard and securing it in an inner pocket of my bomber jacket. Then, I spun on my heel, dashing towards the alley''s entrance from which I had arrived, pushing my body to its limits. At this point, stealth was off the table. The netrunner would regain consciousness any second now; blood chokes were effective, but their impact was fleeting, lasting only about 20-30 seconds at best. Once she came to, I had no doubt she would sound the alarm, sending her crew after me in a frenzy. Sneaking out, therefore, was not a luxury I could afford. The temptation to pilfer her deck or any other valuables had also briefly crossed my mind. However, time, as mentioned, was not on my side, and a thorough search was out of the question. Besides, her deck posed too great a risk. Being unfamiliar with netrunning, I had no way of knowing if the deck was rigged or linked to her in a manner that could alert her to my location if I took it. The potential danger outweighed the potential reward, and so, with a burst of speed fueled by urgency, I chose the safest option: To make a swift escape. As I dashed towards the alley''s entrance, my escape almost within reach, a sudden, desperate cry echoed from the opposite end, halting me in my tracks. "Stop! Let me go¡­!" The voice, so utterly laced with fear and panic, invariably called up memories to the cries of the girl I hadn''t managed to save just days prior¡­ Chapter 46 - Angustiae Overwhelmed by a crushing wave of guilt, my mind was in turmoil. Despite the urgency of the situation screaming at me to flee, a stronger force within me refused to abandon another girl to her fate, not after the haunting memory of my previous failure. In that critical moment, my decision was almost instinctual¡ªcompelled more by a deep-seated need for redemption than by any level of strategic calculation. Clad in my Pseudo-Tier 1 Operator gear, armed with a T1 knife for dire situations, and with the element of surprise on my side, I realised I was far better equipped this time around. Furthermore, hidden within the confines of this alley and only the assailants existing as potential witnesses, I had the freedom to act unreservedly. Here, shrouded in anonymity, the risk of recognition, and the inevitable, subsequent questions was nonexistent. Without even fully processing my decision, I found myself back inside the cubby, before stepping closer towards the edge of it, driven by an unyielding resolve. As I cautiously peeked around the cubby''s corner, my worst fears were confirmed. A girl, seemingly close to my own age though difficult to assess from my vantage point, was struggling against the netrunner''s crew. Her hands were restrained by one of the larger men in the group, her movements restricted as they dragged her further into the alley''s shadowy embrace. Caught in a whirlwind of panic, the thought raced through my mind, ''Why now, of all possible moments?!'' I desperately scanned my surroundings for anything that could tip the scales in her favour. The crew looming over the girl appeared to be equipped with nothing more than rudimentary gear, lacking anything that matched or surpassed Pseudo-Tier 1. This small detail afforded me a sliver of hope, given my gear¡¯s slight superiority. Yet, the stark reality was that I was significantly outnumbered¡ªfive against one. Moreover, my skills in hand-to-hand combat were virtually nonexistent. Echoing in my mind were the wise words of renowned martial artists from my previous life, underscoring a harsh truth: Victory is downright impossible when facing superior numbers, especially when the opponents aren¡¯t foolish enough to give you an opening. This wasn''t a video game, despite the uncanny resemblance in certain moments. I couldn¡¯t just waltz up and beat them all down by myself. I was just a random girl with slightly better gear than them, that¡¯s it. As desperation mounted, I noticed the netrunner beginning to regain consciousness, signalling my dwindling chance to act from the safety of stealth. In a moment of frantic improvisation, I crouched down and scooped together an assortment of debris¡ªstones, broken shards, and discarded plastic¡ªanything within reach. Drawing my knife, I struck the makeshift arsenal with its handle twice, crudely breaking the pieces into smaller sizes, and prepared myself for what came next as I picked up the pile. Gripping the debris, now broken down into more pieces with more edges, I braced as the netrunner beside me began to stir, her groans growing louder. Any moment now, she''d be alert enough to betray my hiding spot. With the debris ready, I invoked my [Sharpen] Perk, enhancing every edge on every piece of it to its absolute maximum sharpness, transforming them into thoroughly dangerous shrapnel. I darted from my cover, closing the distance with the rest of the crew slightly to ensure a better angle. Fully relying on the downloaded muscle memory from my Level 4 [Throwing] Skill, I readied myself for a critical manoeuvre¡ªI did not intend on trying to adjust anything, simply trusting the System to guide my throw. Focusing deeply, I tapped into my repertoire of Abilities as well. ¡®Blademaster¡¯s Throw.¡¯ The act of throwing the debris was almost reflexive, the sharpened edges slicing, ripping and tearing into my skin as they were propelled forward at incredible speeds. Thanks to the Ability, I launched them at quintuple my maximum throwing speed towards the assailants. My heart raced, hoping against all odds that my aim would be true and spare the girl from harm. There was no time to close the gap for a safer shot, however; I had to trust in my Skills and the System. The debris tore through the air with a violent hiss, striking with the ferocity of flechettes. In an instant, the alleyway erupted into chaos, punctuated by cries of agony. Blood erupted in a grotesque, abstractionist painting as the sharpened shards punctured skin and flesh, leaving behind a trail of utter and complete carnage. Three of the assailants were immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught, collapsing to the ground amidst screams of blinding agony. They writhed, their hands desperately clutching at wounds across their bodies¡ªsides, arms, chests¡ªeach puncture vastly more brutal and deadly than I had anticipated. The man who had been restraining the girl''s hands dropped to his knees, his arms a horrific sight of torn flesh, muscle and bone, profusely bleeding and rendered completely useless by the abrupt impact of the debris. Miraculously, one figure managed to remain upright, albeit barely. Positioned furthest from the epicentre of my attack, she was speckled with myriad cuts¡ªa stark line of profuse bleeding across her cheek, deep slashes on her arms, and gashes on her legs. The wounds were painful, undoubtedly, but not enough to incapacitate her fully. Her eyes, widened with shock and pain, darted around, taking in the sudden shift in the situation¡¯s dynamics, trying to figure out what had just happened. My heart sank immediately, however, as I witnessed the unintended collateral damage of my desperate act. The girl, the unintended victim of my intervention, screamed in pain, her body curling forwards protectively as she cradled her arms. The realisation that my actions had harmed her as well filled me with horror. Her hands, which had been in the direct line of fire, bore the brunt of my attempt to save her, leaving her caught in the crossfire of my well-intended but devastatingly misguided rescue attempt. "Fuck!" I hissed under my breath, my voice escalating to a shout, "Run, now!" My heart sank even further when, against all odds, the girl bolted in the least desirable direction¡ªstraight towards me. With no time to redirect her, I charged forward to intercept her, my gaze snapping to the last assailant still on her feet. She had recovered from her initial shock at my outburst and was now charging at me with renewed determination, hot on the heels of the girl, while pulling out a menacing looking knife. "Great. Just fucking great," I muttered to myself, the gravity of the situation fully dawning on me. I was completely in over my head, and things were spiralling out of control at an insanely fast rate. Gripping my knife tighter and preparing for any potential confrontation, I sped towards the girl, my heart racing. To my utter shock, as she drew nearer and I could get a better look, recognition dawned on me. "Huh?! What the hell are you doing here?" I exclaimed, my voice laced with disbelief and concern. The last place I expected to encounter Aki was here, on the 33rd floor, especially in this exact situation. Just moments ago, she was safe at Mr. Shori''s, and now, she was tangled in this dangerous predicament with me. Without the luxury of time for a detailed inquiry, I swiftly grabbed Aki''s left arm, thankfully less injured than her profusely bleeding right one, as soon as I reached her. I urged us forward, racing towards the alley''s exit where I had initially entered from, hoping to lose the woman tailing us closely. The alleyway''s escape seemed feasible until I realised Aki''s physical condition couldn''t match mine, anchored by my enhanced physical capabilities from my rank 4 Body Attribute. Alone, perhaps I could''ve narrowly escaped the woman''s clutches, but Aki''s slower pace held us back, allowing the pursuer''s steps ominously closer. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and urgency, ''What the fuck is Aki doing here?! How did she even get here? And why?!¡¯ In the face of our dwindling chance to evade the pursuer due to Aki''s slower pace, I instinctively acted, lifting Aki into my arms in a swift princess carry. Her surprised yelp echoed as I made a sharp turn and charged towards the alley''s wall. "What are you¡ª?!" Aki''s question was cut short as we hit the wall, my feet finding purchase as the [Wall Runner] Perk sprung into action. The added weight of another person significantly hampered my speed, yet I pressed on, determined to scale the vertical surface. The woman pursuing us reached our previous spot just a hair''s breadth too late to catch us as we ascended beyond her grasp. I didn''t dare glance back to witness her reaction, although I could imagine the shock on her face at the sight of us simply defying gravity to escape her wrath. My muscles strained under the effort, fully aware that failing to reach the top before the Perk''s energy waned would spell disaster for both Aki and me. Gasping for air, I neared the top of the building, pushing myself to the limits as the reservoir of energy from my [Wall Runner] Perk dwindled alarmingly. My body moved on pure adrenaline, driven by a desperate will to survive. Just as the Perk''s energy vanished, relinquishing its gravity-defying grip, I managed to hurl Aki onto the safety of the rooftop. But gravity pulled me backward, right into an ominous fall back down the wall, towards the alley and the looming threat below. In a frantic, last-second effort, I caught the edge of the roof with my right hand, barely arresting my descent into potential disaster. The reality of hanging by one hand, a feat utterly glamorised in fiction, I now realised, hit hard. Despite my enhanced physical capabilities and my very manageable weight, my grip began to falter under the strain almost immediately. Determined not to die, I reached up with my left hand, still clenching my RaZ, to gain a precarious hold on the roof. Taking deep, laboured breaths to steady myself, I mustered the strength to haul my body up. I collapsed at the rooftop''s edge, panting heavily, my lungs burning for air¡ªbut for now, at least, I was safe. An intangible pull in my mind told me that the last remaining member of the crew had thankfully given up the chase and was starting to take care of the netrunner, as the [Homing Beacon] that had inadvertently been applied to her through my throw told me her exact location. "What in the world just happened? Ela, how the fuck did you just do that?" Aki''s bewildered voice broke through the silence, snapping me back to the reality that I wasn''t alone on this rooftop. I gulped down several deep breaths, trying to shake off the fatigue that clung to my body like a heavy cloak. Slowly, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself upright, my legs screaming with exertion, as if I had just sprinted through the toughest marathon of my life. "Same question to you, Aki! What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?!" I retorted, more harshly than I intended. Catching myself, I tried to soften my tone. "But we don''t have time for that now. We need to move, fast. Let me see your hand." Approaching her, I reached out and gently took hold of her right arm, inspecting her hand for any injuries. She seemed reluctant, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but I was firm and simply ignored her light attempts at breaking free. We were in a severely precarious situation, with the netrunner''s crew possibly having reinforcements nearby. Personal feelings had to take a backseat to urgency for now, as much as I wanted Aki to still trust me in the future. Aki''s hand was a sight that immediately drew a sharp intake of breath from me. It was apparent that two pieces of the debris I had thrown had viciously pierced her right hand, leaving a gaping hole the size of a small coin that was steadily oozing blood onto the rooftop. Another piece had sliced deeply across her arm, leaving a raw, angry mark that similarly pooled blood down her arm. Despite the severity of her injuries, Aki bore them with an unsettling stoicism, her face betraying little of the pain she must have been feeling. It was a disturbing reminder of how one could grow all too familiar with pain, numbing the instinctive reactions that should accompany such injuries¡ªsomething I was all too familiar with myself and sent a surge of sympathy through me. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Without hesitation, I set to work. I tore pieces from my work-shirt, the fabric yielding easily under the keen edge of my RaZ, creating strips that I then wrapped tightly around her hand and arm, letting myself be guided by both my [Slicing] and [First-Aid] Skills¡¯ knowledge. The makeshift bandages were crude but effective, staunching the flow of blood and offering some semblance of protection against further contamination. "We''ll need to get this properly cleaned and stitched up later," I told her firmly, ensuring the bandages were secure before scanning the rooftop for our next move. "This will hold for now, but we can''t delay getting you proper medical attention." Turning, I headed towards the far end of the apartment roof, my mind already racing with our next steps. Aki followed silently, a mix of utter confusion and awe in her eyes as she trailed behind me. Her quiet acceptance of the situation was both a relief and a burden, a reminder of the responsibility I had inadvertently taken on. ¡®We have to find a way down, without being seen,¡¯ I mused to myself, checking for any potential emergency ladders or similar that could make our extraction easier. ¡®Aki won¡¯t be able to use her arm properly, so a straight up free-climb like I did last time won¡¯t be possible for her and I definitely can¡¯t carry her down either¡­¡¯ Peering over the edge of the rooftop, I quickly spotted a maintenance ladder on the far side, a potential lifeline in our precarious situation. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was the best option we had given Aki''s injury and our need to remain undetected. With Aki''s limited mobility in mind, I adjusted our route slightly, planning to use the cover of various ventilation units and receiver dishes to stay out of sight from the ground as much as possible. "Over there," I pointed out to Aki, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "We''ll use that ladder to get down. Just take it slow and steady." I led the way, keeping a close eye on Aki as we manoeuvred across the rooftop, using every bit of cover to our advantage. My heart was pounding, not just from the physical exertion but also from the adrenaline of the situation. As we approached the ladder, I took a moment to assess our surroundings, ensuring that the coast was clear before we made our descent. "Remember, let me go first. I''ll be right below you if you slip," I instructed, trying to offer some reassurance despite the gravity of our situation. It was already harrowing for me, but for somebody with pre-existing conditions like Aki, this whole situation she ended up getting caught in for god knows what reason was likely almost enough to fully send her, so I tried my best to appear as confident as I could be, to keep her relatively calm. Once we reached the ground, I quickly pulled up my map, scanning for the quickest route to the nearest elevators while avoiding the main thoroughfares. The possibility of running into Falkum Industries'' security was a risk we couldn''t afford, as I still didn¡¯t know whether the netrunner and her crew had been part of the corporation or not, especially not with Aki injured like that. Taking a deep breath, I led Aki through a series of narrow alleyways and less frequented paths, my eyes constantly darting around for any signs of the security personnel. I was thankful that the girl had decided to simply be quiet and follow my lead to the letter, as I was thoroughly preoccupied with trying to get the both of us out of the floor alive. I had no extra energy to spare on any form of babysitting or pampering, but luckily, it appeared that Aki was smart enough to understand the situation we were in, as she followed me with a surprising level of expertise. To get to the elevators, I either had to take the risk and lead Aki through the upcoming crossroad and past the security or take a massive detour through around a dozen alleys. ¡®Considering her injuries, we should take the risk¡­ I don¡¯t know exactly how much blood she lost or how much she can take. She doesn¡¯t look too bad right now, but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean much once the adrenaline runs out,¡¯ I thought to myself, making the decision to take the risky, but faster route. As we neared the crossroad that led to the nearest elevator, I paused, listening intently for any signs of potentially approaching guards. The last thing we needed was to be caught now, so close to our escape route. With one final look to ensure the coast was clear, I gestured for Aki to follow, my mind set on getting us out of this situation as swiftly and silently as possible. Navigating the dense crowd, I tried to blend in, keeping my head down and moving with the flow of people. The scarf around my face provided some level of anonymity, but Aki''s exposure worried me. She stood out with her work and blood-stained attire, a stark contrast to the grimy, cyberpunk-typical fashion favoured by most around us. I could clearly see the heightened alertness of the Falkum Industries'' guards, their eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of urgency and precision. It was clear they were looking for someone, and deep down, I feared it was us. The connection between the netrunner crew and Falkum Industries seemed increasingly likely, and I cursed under my breath over my rotten luck. ¡®Fuck! Of course they had to be Falkum Industries-adjacent¡­ I guess it makes sense, if you think about it. Who else would¡¯ve known about the shard or been looking for it in the first place?¡¯ I briefly considered our options. Ditching our clothing was not feasible at the moment, as being essentially naked was going to be even more of an eye-catcher than what we were currently wearing, and any sudden movements or attempts to flee would only draw more attention. I ultimately figured that our best bet was to continue moving inconspicuously towards the elevator, hoping to slip away before being recognized. "Stay close and follow my lead," I whispered to Aki, keeping my voice as low as possible. "Try to look casual, like we''re just another pair of shoppers heading towards the elevators to go home¡­ And link your arm with mine. We have to hide the bandages somehow." As we approached the crossroad, I slowed our pace slightly, not wanting to appear too hurried or suspicious. My eyes darted between the guards, looking for any sign that they had spotted us. Every second felt like an eternity, each step a massive risk as their attentive eyes roamed around the crossroad, their hands ready to draw their pistols¡ªit seemed that the non-lethal options weren¡¯t even on the table anymore. The crowd around us was our only shield, a diverse mix of individuals going about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the danger we were in; the danger they were inadvertently protecting us from. I continued to guide us through the bustling crowd, trying to use the natural movement of the people around us for cover. If Aki and I had been more in sync, we might have faked a lively conversation about shopping or something equally mundane to really sell the illusion that we were just another pair of shoppers. However, I hesitated to start such an act, fearing that Aki''s potential confusion at my abrupt conversation start or a slip-up in response due to our lack of sync might inadvertently draw attention to us. So my focus remained on maintaining a low profile instead, subtly steering us through the sea of people without causing any ripples that might betray our presence as best as possible. As we cautiously moved past the guards, I felt a surge of renewed adrenaline rush through me. They were mere metres away, diligently scanning the farther reaches of the crowd. Borrowing a strategy akin to Pippin and Merry''s clever maneuver of leading the Ents to Isengard, under the logic that nobody would anticipate us brazenly moving close to our seekers, I was counting on this unexpected approach to evade detection. It was a gamble, but, in my mind, it was our best shot at evading capture. Just as Aki and I were about to turn the corner towards the elevators, my heightened alertness caught a disturbing sound - the unmistakable noise of boots pounding on the ground and the commotion of people being roughly shoved aside. My heart raced as I realised the guards were now onto us. "Fuck! Run, Aki!" I hissed urgently, keeping my voice low but filled with urgency as I gripped her arm more firmly, propelling us both through the throng. Our brief moment of anonymity was shattered as the guards began shouting behind us, their voices booming over the noise of the crowd. "Falkum Industries security! Stop! Somebody hold these girls and the corporation will reimburse you for your time!" they bellowed, their pursuit growing more fervent. Panic surged through me as I pulled Aki along, weaving through the startled crowd. The shouts of the guards echoed in my ears, spurring me to move faster, pushing past bewildered shoppers and dodging obstacles in a frantic dash towards the elevators. Every second felt annoyingly slow, the distance to safety agonisingly close yet seemingly out of reach as the shouts of the guards grew louder, closer. I brandished the RaZ menacingly at anyone who appeared even slightly inclined to accept the security guards'' offer of a reward for capturing us. Although I had no desire to hurt innocent people, I was very much prepared to shank a nosy bitch or two to prevent myself, and especially Aki, from falling into the hands of corporate enforcers. For corporate espionage like this, torture was undoubtedly the least of our concerns. My heart skipped a beat as the guards'' next warning rang out, "Halt, or we will shoot! Clear the area around those girls, this is your final warning!" We were just a few steps from turning the corner, which would momentarily shield us from view, when the sharp report of a gun firing echoed behind us. On pure instinct, I manoeuvred Aki in front of me, hoping my gear would shield us both from the bullets. As the gunfire erupted, complete and utter chaos ensued. Bullets whizzed past us, embedding themselves in the asphalt with a force that sent shards flying. Those aimed with more lethal intent soared over our heads, their indiscriminate paths finding unintended victims among the bystanders. I witnessed a man collapse, like a puppet with its strings cut, as a bullet found its mark in his left eye, his body hitting the ground with a thud that echoed the finality of his fate as the blood pooled out of his head. A woman''s agonised scream pierced the air when another bullet tore through her abdomen, a spray of blood painting a grim picture of her injury and plastering the people behind her in a rain of red. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded in my right arm as a bullet collided with it, the Pseudo-Tier 1 material of my jacket straining under the impact, managing to prevent a direct penetration but not the bone-shattering force. Like a twig, my arm simply snapped under the force. My already agonised scream intensified and mingled with the chaos as yet another bullet buried itself in my left calf, my legs giving way under the pain. In a surprising display of quick thinking and agility, Aki caught me before I could hit the ground, her support enabling us to continue to hobble forward. Together, we rounded the corner, momentarily out of the line of fire, her assistance the only thing keeping me from collapsing in agony. ¡°Fuck, fuck fuck!¡± Cursing under my breath, I shoved a visibly shaken Aki ahead of me, urgency lacing my voice. "You need to find an elevator and get out of here, Aki. I can use the restricted ones. Do you have a safe place to go?" Her hesitation was brief before she nodded, guilt and worry etching her features. "Yes. I think so. I... I''m sorry, Ela. I didn''t mean to¡ª" I cut her off with a sharp look, pain and frustration boiling inside me, not in the mood for apologies with my arm broken and my calf bleeding out at an alarming rate. "Just go!" I urged, propelling her towards the nearest set of elevators, my injured leg dragging painfully behind me. Aki cast a conflicted glance back at me, torn momentarily, before finally taking off toward the public elevators, following my stern command. Inside, I was a storm of frustration and disbelief at how quickly everything had spiralled out of control. Surprisingly, the crowd around the corner seemed indifferent to the recent chaos, their apathy a stark reminder of the harsh realities of life in this world. They continued on with their day, giving the site of the recent violence a wide berth but otherwise unaffected, suggesting such disturbances were all too common, even here on a relatively ¡°safe¡± floor. As I limped towards the restricted elevators, blending back into the crowd provided a much-needed cover, especially when the guards appeared around the corner, just as I was about to reach safety. The fear of being tracked by the blood trail I was sure to leave behind loomed over me. However, a quick glance over my shoulder revealed an unexpected twist ¨C there was not a single trace of my blood on the ground. ''Huh?!'' I wondered, my mind momentarily frozen in confusion. The wound on my calf was profusely bleeding, and my hand had been bleeding since the altercation with the netrunner''s crew. Logic dictated there should be a trail, but the ground was spotless, as if my injuries had never bled at all. In awe, I inspected my leg while continuing my painful journey to the elevator. The instant the blood splashed out of my soaked boots onto the asphalt, it simply vanished, as if it had never existed. No absorption, no discoloration, just gone. A moment of realisation dawned on me, gratitude flooding my thoughts. It had to be the work of the [Lightfoot] Perk, which prevented leaving any trace on non-challenging surfaces like the asphalt here. The G.E.M.A. System''s intervention, erasing even my blood spills, offered an unexpected but lifesaving anonymity. ¡®Thank you, System,¡¯ I silently praised, relieved by this unforeseen protection as I limped towards safety. The guards, bewildered by the lack of a blood trail that should have led directly to me, frantically scanned the ground and the crowd. Their confusion was evident as they barked at pedestrians to move aside, their eyes darting around in a futile attempt to visually spot me amongst the throng of people trying to get out of their way. I was just steps away from the safety of the black elevator doors, fervently pressing the call button, when a guard''s shout of recognition pierced the air, his finger pointed squarely at me. Desperation surged within me, urging the elevator to hurry as I frantically pressed the button, foolishly hoping it would speed its arrival. Despite the buffer of bystanders and a good fifty metres separating us, the guards'' previous use of firearms had already proven this to be but a minor obstacle, at best. Catching the glint of their raised weapons from the periphery of my vision, I instinctively crouched, pulling my jacket tight around me for whatever protection it could afford. Bullets soon tore through the air towards me, a wild cacophony of gunfire as the guards charged, unleashing a barrage aimed at my desperate bid for cover. The gunfire that missed me didn''t go unnoticed; it mercilessly tore through the unsuspecting crowd. The chaos was complete as screams filled the air, bodies falling or scrambling for cover. One bullet, in a stroke of tragic misfortune, found a young man in its path, the impact visibly jarring as it plunged into his shoulder, spinning him around before he collapsed, his cries lost amidst the cacophony. Another shot, aimed similarly recklessly in my general direction, grazed a woman''s leg, slicing through fabric and flesh with equal indifference, her shock morphing into excruciating pain as she stumbled and fell, before getting trampled by the rest of the fleeing pedestrians, as she desperately tried clutching at the wound and protecting her head. Then, I felt the terrifying force of bullets as they slammed into my back and side, each impact a searing explosion of pain that threatened to overpower my senses. The durable fabric of my jacket protected me from the immediate danger of the bullets piercing my skin, but the force of the impacts buckled the material and sent ripples of pure agony through my body as I felt multiple of my ribs crack and break under the onslaught. My breaths became laboured, each inhalation a battle against the pain. Salvation arrived a moment later as the elevator doors finally parted, offering a fleeting sanctuary. I hurled myself into the confines of the elevator with whatever energy I had left, slamming the button for the 43rd floor with a desperation I had never known before. The scanner, usually a blink-and-you''ll-miss-it affair to confirm my request and check whether I was the only one inside, now seemed to drag on interminably. My pleas for haste were raw screams with the last dredges of air remaining in my lungs into the sterile environment of the elevator. The world outside narrowed to a terrifying focal point as a guard closed the distance, their weapon trained on me. Time slowed as the doors began their usual rapid journey to closure, now seeming painfully slow instead. Just as the guard''s face became clear, the doors snapped shut, cutting off the deadly aim pointed right at my head. Collapsing onto the elevator floor, my body wracked with pain, I surrendered to deep, ragged breaths, cradling my wounded calf and side. Tears streamed down my face, the adrenaline that had fueled my escape now retreating, leaving behind a severely vulnerable, exhausted and freely sobbing mess¡­ Notice of break until March 11th (1 week break)
Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! Just a quick update, that I won''t be able to release any chapters this week. Work has gotten quite stressful as there''s a bit of a fire going on (figurative fire, not an actual like... burning thing) that needs putting out, so I can''t split my attention as much as I usually am able to. I''ll be writing whenever I can, to work ahead on some backlog chapters, so that future breaks can hopefully be avoided (or shortened, if they DO have to happen). This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I apologise for this renewed break, so shortly after the last one, but I can''t promise a consistent upload schedule with my current workload. The next ND chapter, Chapter 47 - Uncomfortable Truth will be released on March 11th. Thank you for the continued support on the Novel! I''ll see y''all on Monday next week!~ Chapter 47 - Uncomfortable Truth The relentless beeping of the elevator, moments later, jerked me out of my tearful haze. Struggling to sit up, I leaned heavily against the elevator''s chilly metal wall, my mind foggy as I tried to grasp my current situation. The elevator''s monotone command to vacate, accompanied by an increasingly loud series of beeps, drilled into my consciousness, urging me to move. ''I need to address this bleeding first...'' A coherent thought finally formed in my dazed mind. With deliberate, albeit shaky, movements, I tore another piece from my already tattered work-shirt, fashioning it into a makeshift bandage around my profusely bleeding calf. "That''s probably why I''m feeling so dizzy," I spoke to myself, an attempt to stay alert amidst the encroaching fog of unconsciousness. The idea of using [Serenity] to stop the bleeding altogether, had miraculously already crossed my mind, but the elevator''s intrusive noise would make any attempt at meditation futile. Securing the makeshift bandage, I slumped back, each breath a battle against the overwhelming pain and blood loss. I could barely manage to keep my eyes open, the toll of my injuries demanding surrender to unconsciousness. Suddenly, the elevator''s patience seemed to wear thin, its warning escalating to an alarmingly loud decree. "Vacate the elevator, now. You will be forcibly vacated in 60 seconds." Jolted by the elevator''s sudden harsh warning, I forced myself up, curious yet fearful of what "forcibly vacating" might involve. The task was daunting, made worse by my fractured ribs and a right arm that was virtually useless. Barely managing, I staggered out just as the countdown ominously ticked to eight seconds, the doors slamming shut with a force that felt almost hostile, downright vindictive, vanishing behind the sleek black panels that concealed the restricted elevators. ''Mental note: Never pass out in a restricted elevator. Truly horrifying,'' I mentally scolded myself, the adrenaline spike lending me a fleeting clarity. Despite the dire state I was in, a part of me clung to the hope that an extended rest could mend my wounds. I had yet to face injuries as severe as these, but I hadn''t lost any limbs or suffered any permanent damage, as far as I could assess. The game-like logic of the Rest Function, from what I had gathered, suggested a full recovery was possible with enough rest. However, before seeking refuge in my apartment for a much-needed healing sleep, there was the pressing matter of delivering a data shard to a particular individual. Mr. Stirling''s location, conveniently on my path home, logically became my next stop¡ªnot because I was on the verge of collapse from overwhelming pain, making rational thought a struggle, but simply because it was the most direct route. Absolutely, it was just about proximity. I had no recollection of how long I hobbled through the hallways of floor 43, their width so much more manageable and much less grand than the floors I had been frequenting recently, but I somehow found myself in front of room 43314 when the haziness left me for a moment. The world around me sharpened briefly from its daze as I rapped on the door repeatedly, my body teetering on the brink, my mind unable to entertain the notion of patience for someone to answer from within. When the door finally swung open, revealing Mr. Stirling''s vexed expression, my legs gave out. Deprived of the door to lean on, my hand swiped through empty air instead of the expected resistance, sending me tumbling forward. ¡°Ser¡ªHooo! Careful!¡± Mr. Stirling''s deep voice barely registered as his large hands caught me, suspending me in a brief moment of weightlessness before everything faded¡­
Regaining consciousness, I found myself sprawled out on an antiquated leather couch, the room seemingly rotated ninety degrees from its usual orientation. In my groggy state, I could faintly discern the familiar details of Mr. Stirling''s living room¡ªthe same armchair I had occupied during our initial meeting and the display cases locked securely across the room. "Uuggghhh..." The effort to prop myself up into a sitting position only intensified my disorientation, making the room spin more than it settled. "Oi, oi, oi! Take it easy, Sera," Mr. Stirling''s deep voice resonated from somewhere above, as his hands guided me to sit up more comfortably. "There''s no rush. Take your time to get your bearings." Despite the cloudiness of my thoughts, I couldn''t help but marvel at his unexpected gentleness, a stark contrast to his cybernetically enhanced physique. ''Dr. Maltrick''s "gorilla" comparison doesn''t do him justice. Turns out, even the most daunting of gorillas can exhibit a soft touch,'' I mused, half-amused and half-awed by the paradox, my mind simply latching onto the first thoughts that I could muster, unable to filter important information from absolute nonsense. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely before the disorienting whirl of the room ceased, revealing Mr. Stirling crouched before me, his eyes keenly tracking my every movement. Thankfully, the fog clouding my mind began to dissipate along with the room''s illusory rotations. "Ah... Hello, Mr. Stirling," I offered weakly, my mind scrambling to piece together the events that led to this moment. Memories of the 33rd floor flashed through my mind, the adrenaline-fueled escape with Aki¡ª "Aki!" The name burst from my lips as panic surged within me, propelling me toward standing. However, I was immediately restrained by two sturdy, chrome arms. "Let me go! I need to check¡ª" "There''s nothing you need to do right now, Sera," Mr. Stirling''s voice cut through my panic, a tranquil force. "Just sit. Take a moment to catch your breath. Everything else can wait." Despite my urge to resist, his firm push guided me back into the embrace of the leather couch, his directive echoing more forcefully, "Sit. Down." Exhausted, the fleeting burst of adrenaline and energy quickly dissipated, leaving me to slump back onto the couch, my back pressing against it for support. Mr. Stirling''s voice, a blend of authority and reassurance, commanded my attention. "Now, you''re going to tell me exactly what the fuck happened to you and why you''re so worked up. Then, we''ll work out how to help you, okay?" The words began to form, but my thoughts were consumed with worry for Aki. I hadn''t confirmed her safety, nor had I seen if anyone had pursued her. Engulfed in my own desperate escape, the possibility of harm befalling Aki had eluded me until now. "My friend she... she might be in big trouble," I conveyed with as much urgency as my waning strength allowed. "I... I need to check on her." Attempting to rise once more, I was gently but firmly held in place by Mr. Stirling''s formidable presence. Anticipating my frustration, he placed a hand on my head, steadying my gaze to meet his. "Sera, calm down. You''re in no condition to help anyone right now," he advised calmly yet firmly. "This friend of yours, you can contact them, right? Send them a message. If they''re in danger, we''ll figure out the next steps. Even if they don''t reply, that tells us something." His words rang true in my mind, partially because thinking was hard and partially because they sounded logical. I quickly pulled up my list of connections in my cerebral interface, only to quickly realise I had never exchanged my details with Aki. A surge of panic and frustration crept up in me, but was rapidly suppressed by my Ego Attribute, which finally had a clear self-set goal to support. ''I never got Aki''s contact info¡­But maybe Mr. Shori has it,'' I reasoned, promptly sending a message to Mr. Shori. [{¡°Mr. Shori, has Aki come back to the stall after our shift? If you have her contact info, could you share it with me or check on her current whereabouts?¡±}] Much to my surprise, a reply popped up just seconds later, as I was still figuring out how to breathe in a way that would convince Mr. Stirling to relax his firm hold. [{¡°Ela! It¡¯s very good to hear from you. Aki returned and looked¡­ like a mess. She asked whether you had messaged me. I will not ask what the two of you have been up to, but I must request that you refrain from any such actions in the future. You are too young to get hurt like this! Aki has left already. She said she was going home, but she will be back in the next few days. I made her promise. You are okay, I hope?¡±}] A colossal relief washed over me as I absorbed Mr. Shori''s message, a faint smile breaking through my exhaustion, warmed by his consistently kind demeanour, even in such a brief exchange. I felt Mr. Stirling''s hold on me ease, sensing my sudden shift. "Your friend''s safe, I take it?" he inquired, his tone suggesting he sought verbal confirmation. Likely more for my benefit than his own curiosity. "Yeah, she got out fine," I responded, a wave of relief in my voice, as I let my eyes fall shut once more, the room beginning its jarring gyration anew. "Thank you, Mr. Stirling." I quickly messaged Mr. Shori, [{¡°All good on my end, but I''ll have to miss tomorrow''s shift. Catch up soon.¡±}], skirting around the gritty details for now¡ªpartially because I had no idea how to frame any of what had occurred and partially because I could barely think straight, still. Mr. Stirling eyed me with a mix of concern and curiosity. ¡°You think you can give me a quick rundown on what the fuck is going on then? You¡¯re not in any danger, are you?¡± He asked once again, clearly intent on understanding what exactly it was that had happened to me and whether he would have to be prepared to defend me, or the rest of the floor, from whatever it was that had put me into this state. ¡°Yeah, I can explain,¡± I started, pausing to gather my thoughts and take several steadying breaths. It was then I noticed the absence of pain from my injuries. ¡°Did you... give me any painkillers or something?¡± The question blurted out more abruptly than I intended, hastening to add, ¡°Thanks, by the way! If you did, I mean.¡± I wanted to ensure my sudden inquiry didn¡¯t come off as impolite, especially given his apparent efforts to help. Mr. Stirling¡¯s light chuckle cut through the tense air. He nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. ¡°Seeing you getting back to your usual self is a relief. Yes, I administered a tiny dose of some painkiller stims, that I typically use for my own work. You were in pretty bad shape. Now, tell me what happened,¡± he urged, his tone firm yet supportive. Grateful for his help, I began unravelling the events of the last hour, starting from my descent to the 33rd floor. I detailed everything, not omitting Aki¡¯s unexpected presence and involvement, as his earlier perception of my concern for her would have made it obvious anyway. I was careful, however, not to delve too deeply into our dramatic escape from the alley or the specifics of the [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] I had utilised, vaguely describing it as a ¡°risky diversion with potentially dire repercussions for the people involved.¡± This earned a raised eyebrow from him but no further probing. Throughout my recounting, Mr. Stirling¡¯s expression remained mostly unreadable, his focus entirely on digesting every piece of information I provided. "...and eventually, I ended up in the restricted elevator leading here, to the 43rd floor. That''s how I found myself at your doorstep," I wrapped up, fishing the data-shard from the inner pocket of my jacket where I had securely stashed it. "Despite everything though, I secured what I came for." I extended the shard towards Mr. Stirling, but a crucial thought halted me, pulling it back just as his fingers almost brushed against it. "Promise me something: Don''t breathe a word of this... ordeal to Valeria. Are we clear?" My request carried a desperate attempt at assertiveness, hoping to strike a deal of silence. A momentary pause hung in the air, suddenly shattered by Mr. Stirling''s hearty laughter. "You, kid, are one peculiar character," he managed to say between his laughter, leaving me feeling somewhat confused, unprepared for his candid response to both my recounting and my plea. "Why in the world would I involve that headache of a woman in any of this? Frankly, I was the one gearing up to ask you to keep this under wraps from her. Imagine the chaos if she found out you nearly got yourself killed on a job linked to me. She''d be all up in my business in no time," he clarified, still chuckling. His laughter and frankness shed light on their dynamic, revealing a shared aversion to unnecessary complications with Valeria¡ªwhether it was for the same reason, fear, or not, I didn¡¯t know. "Rest assured, I won¡¯t say a word to that irritating woman. You have my word on that," he promised, extending his hand in a gesture that sealed our unspoken agreement. I accepted the handshake, a mutual understanding forming between us. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Passing the data-shard over to him, I sank back into the sofa, feeling a strange sense of relief as if the shard''s negligible weight had been a tremendous burden on my entire physique. Mr. Stirling, after a cursory inspection of the shard, voiced his appreciation for my diligence but quickly shifted to a tone of concern. "I value your dedication to clearing this debt, kid," he began, "but you do realise the lengths you went to weren''t necessary, and completely out of proportion, right? These shards, while valuable, aren''t worth risking your life over. I have other contacts I could reach out to for replacements if need be. You nearly fucking died due to unforeseen complications with that crew, a situation I assure you I''ll investigate to understand how they got wind of the exchange. Had you simply informed me the shard was out of reach, we could''ve avoided this. Why risk yourself like this?" His words left me momentarily speechless, caught off-guard by the notion that I might have completely overdone it in my attempt to fulfil my obligations. The thought of messaging Mr. Stirling had occurred to me, of course, but not to tell him I can¡¯t reach it, but rather for some advice on how to reach it despite them being there. I had never even considered the fact that the data-shard might not be worth all the trouble. ¡®Fuck. Am I actually stupid?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why I had risked my life like that. Sure, I had wanted the System¡¯s rewards for completing the task, but it almost certainly would have updated the task based on Mr. Stirling¡¯s reply to my message. After all, the tasks involved collecting the data-shards, in a numbered fashion. If I didn¡¯t get this one as the ¡°Collect the second Data-Shard¡± then the next one would almost certainly have counted, regardless of whether it was this specific one or not. ¡°I¡­ it wouldn¡¯t have turned out like this if Aki hadn¡¯t been involved,¡± I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling foolish. Mr. Stirling¡¯s critique was spot on, despite the unforeseen events that escalated the situation. ¡°Regarding your friend¡­ Why was she even there in the first place? You didn¡¯t share your plans with her, did you?¡± Mr. Stirling pressed, his gaze sharpening with curiosity. ¡°No!¡± I shot back immediately, a flash of indignation rising within me. ¡°Absolutely not! Why would I ever involve her in this?! She¡¯s just a kid! She¡¯s like 15 or something¡­ I think. It would never cross my mind to drag her into something this dangerous!¡± Mr. Stirling¡¯s questioning seemed absurd to me. The idea of deliberately putting Aki in harm''s way was unthinkable. She had only just begun to warm up to me, to trust me. If I had knowingly exposed her to such dangers, it would have shattered the fragile bond we were building. And now, with the mission turning out so disastrously, I worried if even that small trust was irreparably damaged. Snapped out of my self-reproach by Mr. Stirling¡¯s quizzical look, I found myself facing his smug grin. ¡°What?¡± I snapped, my patience fraying under his amused scrutiny. ¡°Why do you look so amused?¡± ¡°How old did you say you were again?¡± He asked, his tone leisurely as he leaned back against the coffee table he had been perched on. ¡°Fifteen, but I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant,¡± I retorted, frustration mounting. He simply raised an eyebrow, offering no verbal response. A moment passed before realisation dawned on me, the fog of pain, blood loss, and medication still clouding my thinking. ¡°Wait... It¡¯s not the same! I¡¯m not¡­ Aki¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s different, okay?!¡± I stumbled over my words, trying to articulate the distinction in my head. To Mr. Stirling, I was a fifteen-year-old referring to another fifteen-year-old as a child in need of protection, while simultaneously engaging in dangerously reckless behaviour myself. I understood the irony he found in that, but he didn¡¯t really grasp the whole complexity of my particular situation now, did he? Chronologically speaking, I was closer to thirty than anything, and Aki, despite our shared biological age, was just a kid with a troubled background¡ªcompletely unsuitable for this line of work or these levels of danger. Mr. Stirling''s chuckle faded as his expression shifted to one of solemnity. "Be cautious around this Aki. I doubt they¡¯re telling the truth about who they are and why they are hanging around you. They must have followed you," he warned with an intensity that snapped me back to full alertness. The change in his tone, especially concerning Aki, set off alarm bells in my head. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, perplexed. "Aki''s just Aki. We met her at Mr. Shori''s place, and she was in a pretty bad state. We''ve only been helping her out since then, and she''s been assisting at the stall. She probably got curious about what I was doing outside of work and ended up following me to the 33rd floor¡­?" He rose from his seat with an effortless grace, making no noise as he moved. Circling to the back of the coffee table, he began manipulating something invisible above it, and suddenly, a holographic projection materialised in front of him. "This is where you said you entered the 33rd floor, correct?" He pointed to a specific location on the holographic layout of the 33rd floor, which I recognized as part of the comprehensive map he''d provided for the mission. I adjusted my posture to get a better view, my interest sharpened by Mr. Stirling''s suggestive remarks and keen to grasp his implication. "Yes, that was the elevator I came from," I acknowledged, after cross-referencing the map in my brain''s interface, noticing all the annotations I had added earlier. Mr. Stirling continued, tracing the route I had taken on the holographic map. "You ventured directly to your goal, with some strategically planned shopping detours along the way, which I must praise. It''s virtually impossible for just any random 15-year-old girl to have trailed you coincidentally, no matter how much she wanted to know. Your route was meticulously chosen to evade detection, as per your narrative," he observed with precision, his finger following my exact path eerily accurately, as though he had been shadowing me himself. "Given these factors, and considering you also monitored the opposing group for a while before moving in, ask yourself this: How probable is it for this ¡°Aki¡± to have accidentally ended up in that specific alley on the 33rd floor, unless she was following you with skills beyond what''s expected of a typical 15-year-old?" The realisation hit me like a wave, and my eyes widened at the improbability of it all. Laid out before me, the holographic map vividly showcased my meticulously evasive route¡ªa path designed to shake off any followers and keep me under the radar. It was a stark illustration that left no room for doubt. Despite my reluctance to accept it, the logical side of my brain was unyielding, urging me to confront the uncomfortable truth. "Aki... she was tracking me," I found myself saying, a hint of disbelief colouring my tone. It wasn''t the benign curiosity of someone interested in a colleague or a budding friendship. No, this was the calculated pursuit of someone with a skill set far beyond what you''d expect from casual interest of somebody her age. "She wasn''t just being friendly or curious... she was on my trail, and she did it with a level of expertise that... that I didn''t see coming," I found myself saying aloud, articulating thoughts I had subconsciously harboured since discovering it was Aki whom I had extricated from that perilous alley. These were the words I had hoped would never form in my reality, yet the compelling evidence laid out before me left no room for doubt. As I grappled with the unfolding reality, my thoughts raced, frantically sifting through each memory I shared with Aki. Desperately, I sought any signs or clues that I might have overlooked, any indication that would bridge the gaping chasm between the Aki I knew and the one who had trailed me with such skill. She had perfectly embodied the role of an abused and vulnerable teenager, someone craving friendship and a semblance of trust. Every moment we spent together at Mr. Shori''s stall had reinforced this image. Her fear, her hesitations, the apprehensive glances¡ªthey all resonated with genuine emotion, and I couldn''t shake the conviction of their authenticity, having been in that position myself at one stage. Yet, as I sat there, wrestling with these conflicting images, a nagging question persisted, refusing to be silenced: ''How can this be? How can she be both?'' The Aki I knew, the teenager needing help, and this almost shadowy figure, adept enough to follow me unnoticed¡ªthe two images clashed, each at odds with the other, but each equally true based on my own experienced and corresponding expertise and pure, hard evidence. Could Aki really be living a double life, one as a frightened young girl and another as a spy or perhaps even an Operator, skilled in surveillance and evasion? It didn¡¯t make any sense to me, whatsoever. The two things were impossible to fit together, no matter how I tried to explain away one or two instances of either side. They simply did not fit. The confusion and conflict churning within me were evidently plastered across my face, prompting Mr. Stirling to place his sizable hand on my shoulder, jolting me back to reality with his guidance. "Look, kid," he began, his voice cutting through my internal chaos with an unexpected clarity, "I''m not insinuating that Aki poses a direct threat to you, nor am I suggesting you cut ties with her. What I am stressing is the importance of understanding your position in all this." I found myself nodding, the fog in my mind beginning to dissipate under the beacon of his advice. "Here''s what I think," he continued, his suggestion piercing the remnants of my turmoil, ¡°Confront her, when you feel comfortable enough to do so. There¡¯s no way she can lie her way through this, as you¡¯ve straight up saved her from a bad fate, based on everything you¡¯ve told me about this mess. Her answer will give you everything you need to make a decision on whether you want to associate with her or not. And, in the knowledge that this might sound surprisingly irritating, like that damn mother of yours: Having such a skilled friend might be a tremendous asset for you, especially considering your ages. So don¡¯t be too hasty when passing judgement, alright?¡± I let his words ruminate in my mind for a few seconds, until I gave him a determined nod. Mr. Stirling was right. The revelation that Aki might be more than what I had initially perceived didn''t necessarily cast her in a negative light. It was clear that the chaotic events that unfolded weren''t part of her plan, indicating that we were probably on the same side. Considering her apparent skills, as Mr. Stirling had pointed out, she could indeed be an invaluable ally, even though it felt odd to think of her in such pragmatic terms. With my young appearance as Sera, building connections in the Operator world would be challenging without some kind of existing reputation. But if Aki was as skilled as she appeared to be and willing to collaborate, it could be a significant advantage. "Thank you, Mr. Stirling," I said sincerely, appreciating his advice and the time he took to assist me. "I apologise for the complications in this task. Next time, I''ll inform you if a data-shard seems too risky to pursue. Going through this once was more than enough, even for me," I added with a light-hearted tone. Mr. Stirling responded with a knowing smile. "No need to apologise, kid. It''s unfortunate that this happened, but it seems like you''re handling it well. Failures, or near-failures like in your case, are often more educational than straightforward successes. I''m sure you''ve already thought of ways to avoid such situations in the future. If you''re serious about becoming an Operator, these early challenges will be invaluable learning experiences. Just make sure to keep them as ''near-failures,'' alright?" The incoming notification on my cerebral interface took me by surprise.
[(Insufficient Access) has transferred {c}100 to your account with the note: ¡°{Second delivery successful + danger pay.}¡±]
I was about to object, to tell Mr. Stirling that the extra trouble was my own doing and I didn''t deserve the additional credits, but he preempted me with a raised hand. "Remember this as well," he said firmly, "never argue about your pay, unless it''s not enough. People will exploit your willingness to settle for less." He then walked over to his armchair, retrieving a small bundle. Coming back, he handed it to me. "Your bandages and knife," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I had to take your knife away¡ªforcefully, I might add. You kept trying to stab me every time you regained consciousness while I was treating your wounds and wouldn¡¯t let go of it. Good instincts there. Commendable, really." His laughter faded, replaced by a stern, inquisitive look. ¡°Say¡­ What exactly is going on with your blood? You should have left a complete bloodbath in the hallway and a mess when I redressed your wounds, but there¡¯s not a single speck of blood anywhere¡­? I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. I¡¯d be very interested in this tech. Is that¡­ Did that irritating women do this to you?¡± Caught in a sudden whirlwind of panic at Mr. Stirling''s question, I felt my heart rate spike. His innocent query masked a deeper, predatory curiosity about my blood''s peculiar behaviour¡ªbehaviour caused by the [Lightfoot] Perk ensuring I left no trace of my passage, including blood. It was immediately clear to me that Mr. Stirling''s interest wasn''t merely academic; it was strategic, potentially something he could leverage in his own operations. Faced with the potential danger of his curiosity, I chose the path of least resistance: Deception. I nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze as if to shield myself from the weight of my next words. "Yes, it''s Valeria''s doing," I lied, my voice slightly quivering to sell the fabrication. "But please, don''t approach her about it. It''s¡­ not something she wants out there for other people to know about. Not yet, at least. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯ll do if she catches wind of you knowing¡­" He exhaled deeply, a sign of resignation or perhaps understanding. "I get it. Corporate secrets and all," he said, backing off disappointedly. "That irritating woman has always been tight-lipped. No sense in prying into her affairs more than necessary¡­ If it¡¯s her doing, I¡¯ll probably find something from within Ether Labs at some point anyway. Especially if she¡¯s already doing some trial runs on her children¡­" His acceptance of my explanation, whether fully believed or not, signalled a full retreat from the topic, much to my relief. It was a clear reminder of the delicate dance between curiosity and discretion in the corporate shadow wars¡ªa dance Mr. Stirling clearly knew all too well. ¡°Well then, if that¡¯s all, you better get going, kid,¡± Mr. Stirling said, offering me one of his hands to help me get up from the couch. I was still severely anaemic and weak, so I gladly accepted his offer. ¡°Thank you once again, Mr. Stirling. I probably wouldn¡¯t have managed to make it all the way home. I¡¯m very thankful for your assistance. I¡¯ll be sure to repay this favour,¡± I said with a deep bow, that nearly made me stumble and fall, if it weren¡¯t for the hulking man¡¯s steadying hand. I clearly mentioned repaying this favour myself, this time around. ¡®I learned, Valeria! No NeuroCorpse this time, okay?!¡¯ I left Mr. Stirling¡¯s apartment and made my way back home, albeit very slowly. I was still hobbling on each step, although the painkillers he had administered were the real deal. I felt absolutely nothing, as if my body was in perfect health¡ªalbeit a bit numb. But I knew better than that, thanks to my [First-Aid] and [Slicing] Skills, which had told me in no uncertain terms that my leg was utterly messed up. Mr. Stirling had similarly mentioned that he doubted I¡¯d be up for any tasks in the next weeks, but I had requested him to message me whenever the next data-shard was available either way. After all, I knew that I would bounce back fairly quickly. Finally arriving home, the first thing I did was take a long, hot shower¡ªthe wounds on my body having already been properly dressed by Mr. Stirling with some form of high-tech gauze that seemed to be completely water-retardant after a few careful tests. Last thing I wanted was to bleed myself out, mere moments away from my much needed, and honestly quite deserved, Rest. I was just happy that everything had worked out, more or less, in my favour at the end of the day. I had gotten the data-shard, finished the second task and Aki and I were still alive. Whatever issues we had caused on the 33rd floor were likely to be forgotten about fairly quickly, as nothing but an unknown level of corporate espionage had happened. While they might be more cautious and on the lookout for potential moles in the future, that wasn¡¯t any of my concerns¡ªprocuring the information for the data-shards was not my job, after all. As I was about to step out of the shower, however, a sudden System Notification popped up, jolting me out of my post-mission haze with a shock so profound, it chilled my blood and erased all coherent thought. The message was unexpected, casting a shadow far beyond any mission complexity I had braced for, instigating a panic that gripped me tight. My breathing turned erratic, the bathroom walls seeming to spin around me, and before I knew it, I had lost my footing, tumbling onto the cold, hard floor of the bathroom, the shock of the fall barely registering over the turmoil in my head as my eyes were wide in terror and glued onto the interface inside my mind¡­
[System]: [Murder] Skill unlocked. [System]: 300xp gained for [Murder] Skill.
Chapter 48 - Aftermath My brain was mired in a fog, stubbornly refusing to latch onto any semblance of rational thought as I fixated on the System Notification before me. The clarity of the situation left no room for doubt or questioning. Those two lines conveyed a truth I couldn''t deny to understand the implications of. In Neon Dragons, the [Murder] Skill was a grim milestone, typically marking a player''s first lethal encounter. It was a skill that could only be acquired through one means, and one means only: Taking another¡¯s life. The game, in its design, nudged players towards this inevitability early on, introducing the basic mechanics through a tutorial that culminated in a defensive but fatal shot against a scav. This was a deliberate choice by the developers, a way to integrate a critical, albeit dark, aspect of the game''s reality under the guise of self-defence, avoiding the outright promotion of senseless violence from the get-go. Not that this stopped the murder hobo players from then taking it to the extreme in the name of experience gains, of course. Originally, the naming of the [Murder] Skill had struck me as peculiar. Why choose such a specific and ominous title, when something more neutral like [Killing] or even a more ¡°cool¡± sounding term like [Manslaughter] might have sufficed? The rationale behind this choice, however, had very quickly become clear. The game''s developers, and subsequently the architects of the System I was now subject to, had a deliberate strategy in their naming conventions. They aimed to encapsulate the full essence and/or optimal practices of a [Skill] through its name alone. In the case of [Murder], this was particularly evident. Earning experience through the act of killing was one thing, but the game, and by extension the G.E.M.A. System, differentiated the experience based on the nature of the act. Premeditated and carefully planned killings yielded more experience than impulsive or defensive actions. Hence, the skill was aptly named [Murder]¡ªdirectly suggesting the most efficient way to accrue experience in that particular skill was through deliberate, calculated acts of murder. As the words "[Murder] Skill Unlocked" hovered before my eyes, a chilling numbness had enveloped me. My mind, reeling in shock, struggled to comprehend the gravity of what those words implied. I had killed someone. The fact was stark, unyielding, yet my mind fervently sought any loophole, any possible error that might negate this horrifying truth. ''No, this can''t be right,'' I argued internally, my thoughts spiralling into denial. ''It''s a mistake. It has to be! I didn''t kill anyone. I couldn''t have. I just threw some random debris at them! They were all alive when I left, I know it! This must be a mistake! Recalculate your messages, System!'' But as much as I tried to refute it, the reality was laid bare before me, unchangeable and absolute. The G.E.M.A. System refused to heed any of my requests to reconsider, to rethink, to recalculate¡ªnot for a lack of trying on my part. The sensation I felt was akin to standing on the edge of an abyss, peering into an unfathomable darkness that threatened to swallow me whole. My heart raced, pounding against my chest as if trying to escape the inescapable truth that the System''s notification had presented and refused to let go of. Each attempt to rationalise it away felt feeble, desperate. ''I didn''t kill anyone,'' I repeated in my head, a mantra that seemed increasingly hollow with each repetition, with each attempt at trying to deny the System¡¯s objective telling of the truth. A deep, unsettling dread began to take root, the kind that gnaws at the very core of your being, leaving you hollow and disoriented. In that moment, I was lost in a sea of confusion and denial, unable to accept the stark reality that I, inadvertently or not, had crossed a line from which there was no return. "Please... I swear I didn¡¯t¡­ It wasn''t my intention..." I found myself whispering between sobs, the tears that had silently begun to flow at some unknown moment now fully acknowledged in my despair. Deep in my heart, I had harboured the grim acceptance that this moment had to come at one point or another, ever since I awakened within the confines of Neon Dragons by whatever mysterious forces had consigned me to this fate. In this cyberpunk dystopia, life''s value had long plummeted to depths unfathomable to me hitherto. The brutal actions of the guards on the 33rd floor had laid this truth bare, their reckless gunfire into innocent crowds while pursuing me and Aki a harrowing proof to the cheapness of existence here. Gradually, I had been bracing myself for the inevitable moment when self-defence would morph into the necessity to take a life, or for the sake of an Operation, should I earnestly tread the path of an Operator in the future. Yet, the reality of it crashed down on me with a weight I was thoroughly unprepared to bear. I had harboured a wish, very much knowing naively, that when the moment came to take someone else¡¯s life for the first time, it would carry significance, a twisted form of meaning. Like those scavs who had targeted Gabe, the dregs of society who sought to snuff out a kindred spirit without a second thought. Killing them would have carried a semblance of justice, a way for me to justify the act, to gradually adapt to the grim acceptance that life here was not held in the esteem I was accustomed to in my previous existence, where life was cherished above nearly everything else. Yet, all my rationalisations and imagined scenarios crumbled under the weight of the System''s irrevocable notification, a reminder of an action that couldn''t be undone or pleaded away, leaving me engulfed in a turmoil of regret and confusion¡­
As I lay there, my mind slowly emerged from the haze of disbelief, transitioning into a chilling calm. The tears had dried up, but the weight of realisation remained heavy on my chest. I began piecing together the probable series of events: ¡®One of them must have bled out... The debris was sharper than I had thought, and my throw had also been way more forceful than I ever thought possible¡­ It''s likely an artery was hit, or an organ damaged beyond quick repair.¡¯ The logic was cold, clinical and similarly undeniable as the notification still taking up the majority of my vision. My mind, in its search for answers, fixated on the man who had been holding Aki. ¡®Was it him? He was my primary target... his arms, they were so badly damaged.¡¯ These thoughts echoed in my mind, a macabre attempt at making sense of the chaos. With effort, I peeled myself off the cold bathroom floor. Slowly, I got myself up from the ground, my whole body aching, shivering and freezing from the cold of the bathroom floor and the realisation of my actions having seeped deep into my very bones: My actions had irreversible consequences, a fact I was only now beginning to fully grasp; to fully understand. There were no redos. No save points. No reloads. I had killed somebody in my attempt to save Aki and there was nothing I could do about it now. ¡°Nothing I can do about it,¡± I whispered to myself, the words feeling like a feeble attempt to ward off the creeping cold that had taken hold of my body. After drying off and hastily throwing on something to wear, I trudged out of the bathroom, every step heavy with a sense of detachment. The urge to dismiss the notification was strong; I couldn''t bear to face it any longer. "Nothing I can do..." The words felt hollow, echoing in the silent hallway as I aimlessly moved towards the room I shared with Gabriel. But then, a sudden lurch within my stomach broke through the fog encasing my thoughts, a physical revolt against the reality of my actions. My body convulsed with an overwhelming urge to purge, and I succumbed to it, vomiting uncontrollably near our door. Each heave felt like an attempt to rid myself of the guilt that clung to my conscience, leaving me gasping and weak. "Ugghh..." The sound of my own voice was distant, a reminder of the mess I''d have to face. Yet, before I could muster the strength to clean, the nausea gripped me again, a relentless cycle that left me drained and sprawled helplessly on the floor amidst the chaos I had created. Curiously, once the violent episode had passed, a semblance of order began to seep back into my thoughts. The mental fog and the numbing detachment that had shrouded my senses lifted noticeably, leaving behind a stark awareness of my surroundings and the gravity of my situation. "Are we okay now, Sera?" I whispered to myself, a feeble attempt to rally my spirits as I painstakingly lifted myself from the cold embrace of the floor. With a shaky resolve, I returned to the bathroom. There, I methodically washed away the bile that clung to my skin, a grimy but very much necessary act of self-care. Afterward, I gathered the modest array of cleaning supplies from the bathroom cabinet, embarking on the task of erasing the physical evidence of my earlier distress. As I scrubbed the floor, the repetitive motion offered an unexpected form of solace. It was as if with each stroke, I was attempting to scrub away not just the remnants of my physical reaction but the deeper, more indelible marks left on my conscience by the day''s events. There was an absurdity in the notion that the act of cleaning could absolve me of my actions or the haunting reality that I had ended a life. Yet, for a fleeting moment, the simple, tangible act of cleaning provided a brief respite from the turmoil within. However, the clarity that followed the storm of nausea was unyielding. It stripped away any illusions of innocence or misunderstanding. The reality was that I had taken a life, and no amount of physical cleansing could wash away that fact. It was a truth I had to confront head-on, accept, and learn to live with, I knew. With the reality sinking in, I finally gained a more comprehensive understanding of my situation, allowing me to piece together a coherent understanding of the events that had led to this moment and the critical missteps I had taken while attempting to save Aki. This newfound realisation was a double-edged sword. It offered a path forward, a means to analyse and learn from my errors, but it also laid bare the full weight of my actions. "I''ve got to dive deeper into understanding what I can really do," I mused, acknowledging that the true error lay not in my attempt to rescue Aki, but in my underestimation of my own skills¡ªa consequence of never having tested them in-depth prior to such a critical, high-stakes situation. The decision to utilise the [Sharpen] Perk in tandem with the [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] had seemed like the only viable option in the heat of the moment, a choice driven by necessity rather than experience. Yet, this was a combination I had never practically tried before. It was a concept I had entertained in theory, certainly, but without any real-world application, I couldn''t have anticipated the devastating outcome it would ultimately yield. This lack of foresight, this gap in my understanding of the powers that the System granted me access to, had inadvertently steered me onto the path of becoming a murderer¡ªwhether I had intended to become one or not. With a newfound sense of determination, I set a firm goal for myself: "Tomorrow, I research." It was clear that moving forward, I needed a comprehensive grasp of my capabilities to avoid any more unintended consequences. This wasn''t just about honing my Skills anymore; it was about gaining the necessary control and insight to ensure I never found myself in a similar situation again. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. With my shift at Mr. Shori''s cancelled and no other obligations on my plate, the path was paved for some serious self-education. "Long overdue," I admitted to myself, a tinge of regret in my voice. If only I had taken the time to delve deeper into the G.E.M.A. System''s intricacies sooner, perhaps I could have avoided the recent disastrous turn of events. Just as I finished cleaning up and was about to turn and go to stow away the cleaning supplies, a familiar chime from my cerebral interface caught my attention. [System]: 100xp gained for [Maid] Skill. A wry smile crossed my face at the irony. "Might as well make a start now," I mused aloud. With newfound resolve, I set about cleaning the entire apartment. It was an ideal opportunity to explore just what exactly that elusive [Maid] Skill was all about in real-time. Tomorrow''s deep dive into the System''s offerings was crucial, but why not get a jump on it with something I was already engaged in and would have to do anyway? It was time to understand every facet of my Abilities and Skills, starting with the seemingly mundane task of being a [Maid] for nobody but myself... ¡ª ¡ª PoV: Vega Inside the dimly lit office, Vega leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning over a pile of documents strewn across his desk¡ªhe had always been someone to prefer the ease of destruction that good old fashioned paper provided over the risk of digital reports being able to be reconstructed. Each page in front of him was a complicated jigsaw puzzle of coded reports and undercover investigations, demanding his utmost attention. He let out a weary sigh, feeling the weight of recent events, ¡°Haaa¡­.¡± The Clawed Beasts had been riding a complete rollercoaster of challenges and triumphs in recent weeks, with the latter half being almost exclusively the second. The key turning point had come unexpectedly from intel provided by Yan Shori, the owner of a modest yet popular food stall on the 16th floor. Shori¡¯s cooperation had been a game-changer, providing them with surprisingly critical intelligence that had helped break the deadlock in their long-standing feud with the Red Snakes. Thanks to this breakthrough, the Clawed Beasts had swiftly taken control of most protection rackets on the 16th floor. Their influence spread like wildfire, starting from Shori¡¯s Noodles and rapidly engulfing other market stalls. Only a handful of businesses still remained under the Red Snakes'' thumb, their loyalty cemented by familial connections within the gang itself. As Vega pondered over the documents, he couldn''t help but acknowledge the strategic advantage they had gained, all thanks to an unlikely alliance with a random food stall owner. The battle was far from over, but these recent victories brought a rare glimmer of hope in their relentless struggle for dominance. Vega leaned back in his chair, his gaze reminiscently fixed on the ceiling as he contemplated the remarkable progress they had made, a stark contrast to the stagnant period that had preceded it. The catalyst for this sudden advancement was undeniably the unexpected yet astute intel from Yan Shori. He couldn''t help but wonder aloud, as he had many times before, "How the fuck did Shori even come across such critical information to begin with?" The first time Vega had laid eyes on the detailed intel, hand-delivered by the enigmatic Operator known as "Ela," he had been beyond sceptical. It had seemed too good to be true. Yet, after exhaustive verification, the data had checked out, perfectly aligning with Shori''s claims. The Red Snakes, it turned out, were embroiled in an intense internal power struggle. The recent death of their old boss had left a power vacuum, with the two potential heirs locked in a bitter feud over control of the gang. Remarkably, this internal discord had remained well-hidden, eluding even Vega''s network of informants. To outsiders, it was simply the expected hand-off to the oldest heir, who went by the name of Ravis Alves, that had taken over the lead for the Red Snakes inside of Delta. Yet reality was different. His younger brother, Beltor Alves, had almost immediately tried to subsume his older brother¡¯s ¡°rightful¡± inheritance. He was the more popular of the two, but tradition dictated that the lead over the gang went fully to Ravis, which had been the cause for the internal strife. Things hadn¡¯t gotten heated enough for outsiders to get a glimpse at this struggle, but internally, this strife had become a major point of contention for all members. It was only Yan Shori''s unexpected intel that had shed light on the gang''s well-hidden vulnerabilities, pinpointing specific locations where evidence of the turmoil could be found and exploited. Vega couldn''t help but feel a grudging respect for the unassuming stall owner who had managed to unearth such pivotal information, information that had eluded his own seasoned operatives for the past weeks. He grudgingly had to acknowledge the Red Snakes'' impressive ability to conceal their internal conflict. Despite his diligent efforts to unearth any leverage against them, the gang''s internal strife had remained hidden until Yan Shori''s intel had miraculously surfaced. But in the ruthless world of gang politics, the endgame was what truly mattered. And the endgame had been favourable for the Clawed Beasts. The revelation of the Red Snakes'' internal struggles had opened a golden opportunity, one they had swiftly capitalised on to expand their influence within Delta. Now, with the 16th floor predominantly under their control, they had gained a substantial increase in revenue and a strategic advantage in intelligence gathering. This newfound control over a bustling market floor on one of the lower floors, a feat they had previously only dreamed of, had unexpectedly fallen into their lap. It was a significant win, one that promised to alter the dynamics of power within Delta and potentially beyond. While higher floors were worth a lot more, in terms of capacity to make credits for the vendors and in-turn make credits for the gangs, the lower floors were where all the gossip happened. Where the opportunists and passer-bys decided to shop, if they came by Delta from the greater city at large. This is where the Clawed Beasts would finally have a proper, secure foothold to expand their operations outside of Delta, with the intel they could gather on the 16th floor thanks to these rumours. Vega, however, couldn''t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and wariness at this sudden, massive shift in their fortunes. He simply couldn''t shake the feeling that some unseen force had orchestrated their recent success. The Clawed Beasts'' takeover of the 16th floor had been executed with such ease and minimal sacrifice that it seemed almost too good to be true. No significant injuries on their side, no major obstacles; it was as if their path had been meticulously cleared by a masterful strategist with the surgical precision of a slicer, facilitating a smooth transition of power. This eerie sense of an invisible guiding hand troubled Vega, keeping him awake at night as he pondered over the possible motives or entities behind this stroke of fortune. In his quest for answers, he had deployed numerous informants, scouring for any clue that could shed light on this mystery. Yet, frustratingly, all efforts had yielded nothing¡ªno leads, no hints, nothing that could explain the inexplicable ease of their expansion. Naturally, he had also thoroughly investigated Yan Shori, but found absolutely nothing damning about him. Aside from being a seemingly successful businessman and chef, he was also a philanthropist at heart¡ªone of the very few that Vega had ever seen with his own two eyes. They were a rare breed amongst the citizens of Neo Avalis; all too easily exploited. Despite the lack of evidence, however, Vega vowed to remain vigilant and contemplative. If his long experience in the treacherous world of Neo Avalis had taught him one crucial lesson, it was this: Nothing significant ever came without a price. There was always a catch, a hidden cost lurking beneath the surface, especially when things seemed to proceed without any resistance. Vega understood that this unanticipated, frictionless victory on such a grand scale was bound to have repercussions, and he was determined to uncover them, whatever they might be. As Vega''s mind swirled with these unresolved questions, an abrupt, unexpected noise from outside his office window abruptly snapped him back to the present. Without hesitation, his instincts kicked in, and he swiftly drew his Gandiv, a weapon he trusted implicitly for self-defence. The Gandiv, a Tier 2 pistol, was his preferred choice for self-defence; compact enough to be easily hidden yet packing a considerable punch with its fully automatic capability and a rate of fire exceeding 2,000 rounds per minute. Vega had invested heavily in this piece from FelArms, and every moment of its service had validated that decision, despite the hefty price. Maintaining an appearance of calm, he continued to seem engrossed in his documents. Yet, under the guise of casualness, he discreetly stashed the most critical reports into a hidden compartment beneath his desk. This compartment was rigged to incinerate its contents upon a simple neural command, ensuring that sensitive information would never fall into the wrong hands. Another loud bang resonated, the sound unmistakably coming from the metal staircase just outside his window. This staircase, which provided exclusive access to the building''s roof, was now the apparent route of whatever¡ªor whoever¡ªwas approaching. Vega noted that the intruder made no effort to conceal their presence, the heavy impacts against the staircase echoing with a severe lack of subtlety. This blatant disregard for stealth indicated either a profound confidence or a complete ignorance of the dangers they were courting by approaching his domain so audaciously. The commotion outside had fully captured Vega''s attention. With a quiet, practised grace, he rose from his seat, Gandiv securely in hand, though hidden from view. A series of sounds from outside suddenly sent a chill through his veins. The rhythm of footsteps was familiar, yet alarmingly off. Without hesitation, Vega flung the window open, peering up the staircase that snaked down from the roof to his office. This was a route known and accessible to only a select few, and despite his instincts screaming otherwise, he clung to a faint hope that his worst fears were unfounded. But as his gaze locked with Jade''s, that hope shattered. Her eyes, usually sharp and alert, were now clouded with delirium. "Jade!" His voice, a blend of alarm and urgency, cut through the stillness as he leapt through the window onto the staircase, closing the distance between them rapidly. Her voice, feeble and apologetic, barely reached him. "Sorry, boss. I messed up bad," she murmured, her legs buckling under her own weight. In a swift motion, Vega vaulted the last steps, catching her before she could fall. With a mix of fear, care, and anger, he cradled her in his arms, quickly retreating back into his office. He shut the window and activated the armoured shutters with a neural command, ensuring their privacy and safety. He then laid Jade down on his desk with a mix of tenderness and underlying frustration. The emergency message he dispatched was terse but laden with urgency: [¡°My office. Now. Jade is hurt.¡±] Such brevity in his communication was uncharacteristic of Vega but spoke volumes of the gravity of the situation. Known for his precision in words, Vega''s succinct message underscored the critical state Jade was in. As Vega gently examined Jade, his hands moved with the precision of a seasoned field medic, despite his primary role being as far removed from any field-duty as possible. The sight before him was grim: Jade''s attire was saturated with blood, hinting at the severity of her injuries, while her skin bore the pallor of significant blood loss. Her clothes were torn in several places, revealing more about the struggle she faced than words ever could. Vega''s thorough inspection revealed a bullet wound in the lower region of her left back. The bullet had mercifully spared her vital organs, a small piece of fortune amid the dire circumstances. He noted the makeshift bandages wrapped around her arms and hands, now thoroughly drenched in blood, indicating severe lacerations or puncture wounds beneath. Additionally, her left leg presented a through-and-through bullet wound, the entry and exit points clean but the damage done was clearly significant, as evidenced by the blood that had filled her boot, creating a macabre reservoir of her spent life force. This preliminary assessment painted a stark picture of the ordeal Jade had faced, and Vega''s concern deepened with each new discovery. The immediate priority was stabilising her condition, but the undercurrent of his thoughts was dominated by questions about what had led to this moment and who was responsible for Jade''s state. The sound of hurried footsteps rapidly approaching Vega''s office broke the tense silence, heralding the arrival of much-needed assistance. With a forceful push, the door flung open, crashing against the wall with a resounding thud that echoed through the room. "What¡¯s going on?!" demanded a voice, sharp and tinged with urgency and an undercurrent of hostility, belonging to the figure that stormed into the room. This was a woman Vega recognized immediately, her presence marked by the hefty leather bag she carried, bulging with medical supplies and equipment¡ªa veritable portable clinic she brought with her wherever she went. Vega stepped aside, granting her unimpeded access to Jade, who lay motionless on his desk. "She''s got lacerations mainly on her arms and hands, and two bullet wounds that luckily aren''t critical," he explained quickly, each word laced with concern yet aimed at providing a clear picture of Jade''s condition for Sapphira''s benefit. "She¡¯s lost a significant amount of blood from those injuries. On top of that, her hands seem to have suffered from puncture wounds of some kind, that make up a pretty big chunk of her bleeding as well. Those are taken care of somewhat haphazardly, but not by Jade. Somebody helped her." He paused, his gaze shifting between Jade and Sapphira, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "She just appeared on the staircase, barely conscious, saying she ''messed up''... I have some ideas about what might have led to this, but nothing solid. Not yet¡­" Vega''s voice trailed off, the uncertainty evident as he watched Sapphira spring into action, preparing to tend to Jade''s wounds with the expertise and urgency that the situation demanded. The response from Sapphira sent a shiver down Vega''s spine, her tone as icy as the look in her deep-blue eyes, which never wavered from the task at hand¡ªmeticulously cleaning Jade''s wounds, searching for any foreign objects, and securing fresh bandages around the injured areas. ¡°You will figure out who did this, Vega. I won¡¯t let them get away with hurting my Jade, you hear me?¡± She declared with a steely resolve that left no room for doubt. "And if this mess ties back to that ''Ela,'' you''re so fixated on, hurting her, you''d better believe me: I will end you, Vega. I told you time and time again that Jade wasn¡¯t ready for this kind of solo-op yet!¡± Sapphira''s vehement reaction was not unexpected. Vega had indeed brought them together¡ªJade, Ruby, Sapphira, and the others¡ªforming a tight-knit but fragile bond among them. And while Vega was the linchpin of their assembly, the dynamic and connection shared among the girls themselves was both their greatest strength and most acute vulnerability. Witnessing Jade in such a state ignited even a fury within Vega as well, a protective rage for his young prodigy who had been thrust too soon into such peril''s path. As Vega stood there, his mind racing, he couldn''t help but feel a growing sense of unease. How had things escalated to this dire state? The last update he had from Jade was routine: She had been shadowing the Operator named Ela, who had been frequenting Shori''s Noodles, working as a chef, and then vanishing into the megabuilding''s restricted areas. Nothing out of the ordinary had been reported until recently. The latest intelligence had painted a slightly more complex picture, but nothing to be concerned about. Ela had become aware of Jade''s surveillance, yet there hadn''t been any overt hostility on her part. Moreover, with the Clawed Beasts'' newfound dominance over the 16th floor, Jade had an abundance of safe havens and allies at her disposal. It was hard to fathom how she could have found herself in such a perilous situation without any apparent reason or warning. Vega''s thoughts were shrouded in confusion as he tried to unravel the mystery with the scant information at hand. He knew he needed answers, and he needed them fast. Determination setting in, Vega decided it was time to confront the situation head-on and discover the truth behind the events that had unfolded. With a sense of urgency, he dispatched a flurry of messages to his top investigators, those who weren''t currently entangled in the ongoing skirmish with the Red Snakes. He instructed them to abandon their current assignments and prioritise uncovering the events leading to Jade''s current condition. Vega was prepared to take a direct approach as well, planning to question Jade herself the moment she regained consciousness. But until that moment arrived, he was adamant about piecing together the narrative from the outside. He demanded swift and thorough investigations, knowing that every moment counted. Vega was resolute: He would sift through the confusion of the moment, find the answers he sought, understand exactly how Jade had found herself in such a dire state and subsequently rectify those issues, personally¡­ Chapter 49 - Turbulences Even with my significant injuries, I managed to clean surprisingly efficiently, likely courtesy of the exceptionally strong painkiller injection Mr. Stirling had administered. It was as if my physical traumas, ranging from the fall to the bullet wound in my leg and the presumably excruciating broken ribs, had never even existed in the first place. I moved around with ease, almost forgetting the severity of my condition. As I delved deeper into my cleaning tasks, focusing on every nook and cranny of our grimy apartment, the System quickly ended up rewarding my efforts. The familiar chime of a notification echoed in my mind, signalling a milestone in my unexpected venture into domestic skills.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Maid] Skill. [System]: [Maid] Skill has reached level 1.
Almost immediately, I felt the familiar feeling of the knowledge and muscle-memory download barge its way into my mind, this time, focused on whatever the [Maid] Skill entailed. As the knowledge from the [Maid] Skill began to settle into my consciousness, I was severely taken aback by the sheer breadth it covered. Far from the mundane tasks of household upkeep, the skill morphed into a comprehensive guide that extended well beyond the confines of cleaning, cooking, and laundry¡ªwhich, while covered, were not nearly everything it presented me with. Each aspect was meticulously detailed, albeit still on a basic level, as was to be expected from a level 1 download, revealing layers to these seemingly simple tasks that I hadn''t anticipated. The first big aspect covered etiquette, infusing me with an understanding of social graces, teaching me the nuances of polite conversation, how to set a table correctly for different occasions, and the art of being discreet yet present. It was akin to absorbing a manual on becoming the perfect host, guiding me through various social settings with grace and ease. I immediately recognized this as something undoubtedly valuable to me, thinking back to Valeria¡¯s odd expectations for our ¡°family dinners¡±, as she liked to call them. Surprisingly, the [Maid] Skill also included an intensive on maintaining proper posture as well. It wasn''t just about looking poised either; this was about efficiency in movement, reducing strain, and presenting oneself in a manner that commanded respect. This section was unexpectedly enlightening, offering insights into how posture affects perception and personal health. Some of Valeria¡¯s mannerism immediately made more sense in my mind, as a result of this part of the download. A lot of her apparent, intimidating and overpowering presence simply came from her specific posture and the way she presented herself, I now realised. Abruptly, I also found myself equipped with a newfound sense of style, understanding not just what looked good in the common eye, but more importantly, why it did so. This knowledge spanned from selecting the appropriate attire for different occasions to understanding colour theory and fabric types, ensuring that not only the household I managed would look impeccable, but I would too, in any setting. This knowledge immediately made me second-guess my current wardrobe, as, surprisingly enough, a fully black and grey wardrobe did not agree with this newfound knowledge of style and fashion¡ªwho would¡¯ve thunk? I was utterly shocked by this, having been a black/grey person my entire previous life as well. Next, the skill seamlessly transitioned into practical physical training, teaching me the correct techniques for lifting heavy objects without injury, even with my theoretically weak hand¡ªwhich, of course I didn¡¯t have, thanks to [Ambidexterity]. This was also vastly more than just bend-at-the-knees advice; it was a comprehensive approach to physical exertion that included balance, core strength, and leveraging one''s body efficiently to continuously be able to exert oneself without injury, as well as proper pacing to not run out of steam as easily. It didn¡¯t end there, however, as the [Maid] Skill even ventured into the unexpected territory of stealth and discretion. It taught me how to move items¡ªsometimes bulky or sensitive¡ªfrom one location to another unnoticed. This part of the skill was like a primer on espionage within the household, ensuring privacy and security in the transportation of objects. I had never even considered that such a thing would be part of an unassuming Skill like [Maid], but in hindsight, it made a lot of sense. I had watched a metric ton of anime, tv-dramas and historical dramas in my past life and in any of them where a butler or maid had been even semi-present, their roles had always been vitaly important for the clandestine operations of the master. Batman¡¯s Alfred coming to mind immediately made me feel bad for previously snubbing the [Maid] Skill, which seemed to be the female equivalent in this world. While butlers and maids definitely had entirely separate roles in a real household, it seemed that the Skills were simply rolled into one by the G.E.M.A. System. Lastly and most astonishingly, the skill even covered methods to assist or, if necessary, carry individuals far heavier than myself. It detailed techniques to distribute someone''s weight evenly, leverage my strength, and ensure both my safety and that of the person I was aiding. This knowledge was practical, with applications ranging from assisting someone injured to scenarios requiring discreet relocation of individuals¡ªsomething that could have been quite useful in my recent dealings with the female netrunner, I recognized. Each segment of the [Maid] Skill was kept basic, yet remained rich with information, transforming mundane tasks into an art form that required finesse, strength, and a deep understanding of human interaction, both physically and mentally. The most surprising aspect was the skill''s sheer breadth and versatility, merging the traditional role of a maid with capabilities that bordered on those of a bodyguard or a confidential aide. This skill wasn''t just about maintaining a home; it was about mastering the environment and interactions within it, a realisation that left me utterly in awe of its unexpected complexity. As I sat there on the couch, slightly breathless from the overwhelming influx of knowledge from the [Maid] Skill, which had made me stumble over here and take a seat in order to not fall again, I found myself staring blankly at the television across the room. The sheer volume and variety of information I''d just absorbed were still settling in my mind, leaving me in a state of surprise and newfound appreciation. ''Well, that was more than I expected for sure,'' I mused internally, a mixture of awe and practical consideration weaving through my thoughts. Initially, I had dismissed the [Maid] Skill as somewhat trivial, but the depth and utility it offered had completely overturned that assumption. The Skill had unfolded into an intricate tapestry of knowledge, far exceeding my expectations. The clandestine aspects of the Skill, in particular, intrigued me. They promised to be invaluable in my journey as an Operator, offering techniques in stealth and discretion that could be crucial in sensitive situations. Additionally, the elements of etiquette and fashion sense were unexpected bonuses, skills that would undoubtedly aid in navigating complex social situations and perhaps even in managing the unpredictable demands of Valeria. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth as I contemplated integrating the [Maid] Skill into my daily routine. ''Cleaning the apartment might just become my new favourite workout,'' I thought wryly. After all, the physical aspects of the [Maid] Skill could also contribute to my Body experience, so it wasn¡¯t cheating to count that as part of a workout. It was a perfect way to blend my need for physical training with a Skill grind that could give me some seriously useful downloads further down the line. As I sat there, contemplating the feasibility of dedicating a full time slot to the [Maid] Skill, I found myself mumbling out loud, "Yeah... That could work." My tone was one of tentative consideration, not fully convinced of the value in investing substantial time into it. The alternative strategy, akin to doing birdhouse runs, where I would clean sporadically for larger experience bursts, seemed appealing. Yet, the possibility of a more consistent, albeit smaller, experience gain was also tempting. The second would undoubtedly provide more consistent results and, at the end of the day, more experience overall, but it would also require a lot more time investment. A thought then struck me, sparking a hint of excitement. ''I should probably check the Perk Tree associated with this Skill,'' I thought, a smile playing on my lips. The allure of exploring a new Perk Tree always added an extra layer of enjoyment to any RPG, and unlocking a new one with my first level in [Maid] seemed like a welcome bonus. It was like uncovering a hidden treasure in a game, offering new possibilities and pathways that could significantly influence my decision-making¡ªsomething I was in need of right now, as it just so happened. Pulling up the Perk Tree for the [Maid] Skill, I quickly read through all the options.
[Unseen Aide] [Requirement: Level 3 [Maid]] What the¡ª?! Where did that Maid just come from?! You gain the ability to more easily blend in with your surroundings inside of residential buildings, making you significantly harder to detect visually.
[Unheard Aide] [Requirement: Level 3 [Maid]] Wait, what? You have a Maid? I¡¯ve never even heard of her! You gain the ability to move around more stealthily inside of residential buildings, making you significantly harder to detect auditorily.
[Polished Posture] [Requirement: Level 3 [Maid]] Manners maketh man. You gain the ability to more easily and gracefully sidestep incoming attacks you anticipate, provided you maintain impeccable posture and are capable of moving, making you significantly harder to hit through mundane means.
[Immaculate Cleaning] [Requirement: Level 3 [Maid]] Not a speck of dust remains. You gain the ability to cleanse and organise areas, objects, or clothing to perfection using even the most mundane of supplies. Effortlessly erase any traces of your choosing, as long as the nature of the residue doesn''t surpass the knowledge level of the Skill.
[Protective Repose] [Requirement: Level 3 [Maid]] Let me carry your luggage. You gain the ability to perfectly safeguard any object in your care, ensuring it remains untouched by dirt, damage, or external influences below the Skill''s knowledge level. This perk does not apply to living entities.
I found myself rooted to the couch, utterly bewildered by the [Perk] Tree laid out before me. ¡®What the hell, these Perks are fucking bonkers!¡¯ I silently railed against the System for keeping such treasures concealed until now. ¡®How does a random-ass Skill like [Maid] boast five staggeringly potent Perks? Even a universally essential Skill such as [Stealth] capped out at four. What''s the deal with [Maid] getting such preferential treatment here, System?!¡¯ My frustration wasn''t truly directed at the number of options available, of course; rather, it was the overwhelming nature of those choices that daunted me. Each Perk presented within the [Maid] Skill hinted at formidable enhancements, all potentially pivotal and undeniably useful for my current circumstances¡ªand even offering some seriously valuable upgrades for a long time to come. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. My irritation stemmed more from the looming necessity to select among them, once I reached [Maid] Level 3, rather than the surprise of encountering such an array of options. ¡®Still, [Maid] having five Perks is such bullshit¡­¡¯ With newfound insight into the [Maid] Perk Tree, I decisively incorporated a half-hour of assorted cleaning tasks and other [Maid]-related activities into my daily schedule. The utility of the Perks was too significant to approach this Skill leisurely going forward. "Might as well wrap this up first, give the place an extra thorough clean before hitting the sack," I murmured to myself. Rising from the couch, I resumed my cleaning efforts around the apartment. This time, however, each of my movements carried a heightened sense of purpose and efficiency, fueled by the knowledge of the tangible rewards that lay within reach and the basic-level download I had just received¡­
After dedicating an hour to meticulous cleaning, the apartment had transformed into a state of impeccable cleanliness, and I found myself soaked in sweat once more. I paused to catch my breath after tucking away the basic cleaning supplies beneath the bathroom sink, then splashed my face with cool water. The thought of another shower crossed my mind, but the overwhelming weariness from the day''s events began to reassert itself. The temporary surge of energy I had experienced after waking up at Mr. Stirling¡¯s was fading quicker than anticipated. ''Might be wiser to keep things low-key for now... Given the severity of my injuries, standing without Mr. Stirling¡¯s painkillers would likely be impossible,'' I reasoned with myself. With that, I slowly made my way to the room Gabriel and I shared. As I gingerly settled onto my bed, I was acutely aware that recklessly diving in with multiple broken ribs would be unwise, despite the strong likelihood that the painkillers could numb any further harm I might inflict on myself. I eased myself under the covers with deliberate caution. Lying down, the full weight of my exhaustion, both physical and mental, hit me. The day had morphed from an exhilarating mission to complete my second task into a chaotic disaster that nearly cost me my life and resulted in me taking someone else''s. ''What a complete fucking mess,'' I reflected on the tumultuous events of the day. The situation with Aki weighed heavily on my mind. ''If Mr. Stirling''s suspicions are true, she''s been deceiving me all this time...'' My feelings about Aki were tangled and uncertain, the shock of the revelation preventing me from fully processing it and properly thinking about how to move forward. I was certain that she had deceived me now, but the depth and purpose of her deception were still utterly unclear to me. Why would she go to such lengths to get close to me? In this new world, I was hardly a person of influence or power. My interactions had been limited to just a few, select individuals since my arrival. ''Could Aki be connected to something involving the original Sera¡­?'' I pondered, trying to connect the dots. ''Or, maybe she''s linked to the Clawed Beasts. Perhaps Vega was more persistent in trying to recruit me than I realised...'' Despite my efforts, my mind was too weary to fully unravel the mystery surrounding Aki; in truth, I was reluctant to delve too deeply into it at the moment either way. Aki had represented the possibility of my first genuine friendship in this world, someone seemingly close in age and, I suspected, with similar past experiences. But now, that potential friendship seemed to be unravelling, revealing yet another person possibly attempting to exploit me, seeking to uncover my secrets and ultimately betray me. Honestly, I was deeply wounded by the whole ordeal with Aki. She hadn''t promised me anything, and perhaps I had been too eager to find a kindred spirit, someone to confide in and share my journey with in this strange world. But could I really be blamed for seeking a genuine connection like this? I was all alone in this world, after all. Aside from Gabriel, who was practically never available now, there was nobody else I could truly confide in. Was I really that wrong for wanting to just have a friend¡­? Trying to dispel the swirling storm of thoughts, I shook my head vigorously, as if I could physically dislodge the disappointment, hurt and spiral of negative thoughts. ''Pull yourself together, Sera. This is Neon Dragons, after all. Toughen up; betrayal is part of the game here. No point dwelling on it,'' I coached myself, aiming to lift my spirits. ''Tomorrow''s a new day, dedicated to Skill and System deep dives. It''ll be productive, you''ll see...'' Yet, despite the resolve for tomorrow, today still stretched out before me, demanding to be endured until I could hit the reset button with a restorative sleep. With a long, drawn-out sigh, I prepared to engage the Rest Function, hoping to escape at least some of the day''s weight. But as I was about to do so, a cascade of pending notifications from the day''s escapades flickered into my awareness. I paused, considering them for a brief moment before deciding against diving into them. As much as I loved seeing numbers go brr, my current state of mind just couldn''t muster the enthusiasm. I swiped them away unseen and accessed the Rest Function instead. Eyes closing, I committed to an eight-hour rest with the System, fervently wishing that upon waking, the slate would be wiped clean, and I could start afresh, hopefully to the rest of a day that held fewer disappointments and more clarity going forward¡­
As my eyes fluttered open the next moment, the instant shift from deep sleep to alertness, courtesy of the Rest Function, left me momentarily disoriented as per usual.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
With a brief head shake to clear the lingering haze, I rapidly started to assess my condition, beginning with my ribs. A sense of relief washed over me as I discovered my ribs were fully healed¡ªno longer broken, cracked, or bruised. I then examined the rest of my body, particularly the areas along my right side that had suffered from the impact of bullets against my jacket. Just like with my ribs, I found no trace of bruises or injuries, which put a satisfied smile on my face; at least something had gone according to my calculations today. Gingerly, I began unwrapping the high-quality bandages Mr. Stirling had applied to my leg. The thought of washing and reusing them flickered in my mind, a practical consideration I noted for later research. My first-aid supplies were extremely limited, so salvaging these very high quality, water-proof bandages could be a significant upgrade to my current setup¡ªwhich was essentially just a half-used, low-cost spray bandage can. As I methodically removed each layer, the sight of blood absorbed into the fabric made my heart sink. It seemed like a tall order, even for the Rest Function, to completely heal a bullet wound in just eight hours. Apprehension built up as I peeled off the final layer. I braced myself, knowing my stomach wasn''t the strongest when it came to gore. But when the last of the bandage came off, my breath hitched, turning into a fit of coughing. Where I expected a gruesome wound, there was nothing. My skin was as unblemished as it had been that very morning, with no trace of the injury, not even a scar. It was like the events of the day had never even transpired on my body in the first place. A sense of awe and relief washed over me. "Fucking hell¡­ That Rest Function is seriously the best!" I muttered, astounded by the miraculous recovery. With a newfound zest, courtesy of my System''s seemingly magical healing powers, I leaped out of bed, curious to see if Oliver and Gabriel were around, given the hour. Venturing out, I indeed found them both in the middle of some idle conversation at the dining table, their day''s adventures spilling into the evening air. My appearance prompted a brief pause, greetings were exchanged, and almost immediately, Gabriel inquired, ¡°Sera, did you clean the house or something? The place looks downright spotless.¡± Responding with a casual shrug, I confirmed, ¡°Yeah, figured it was about damn time someone did something about this dirty place. Returning to a home besieged by dust and grime after a day''s work wasn''t exactly the highlight of my day, you know? Always made me feel like taking a whole host of showers, just to get clean.¡± Gabriel''s response came with a knowing grin, ¡°Can''t argue with that. It''s great to see you moving around again... And stuff. Noticed you were resting earlier, so I didn''t want to disturb. How''s everything at the food stall?¡± It was clear that Gabe was trying to gauge my current state, likely both a physical and mental check-up considering Sera¡¯s and his history and the emotional outbursts that he had shared a few days prior. Eager to alleviate his concerns about his sister vanishing once more, and craving some genuine human interaction untouched by deceit, I took a seat beside him. I started elaborating on my supremely boring day at Mr. Shori¡¯s food stall, which involved absolutely no getting shot at whatsoever and no near-death experiences either; very predominantly none of either of those. Oliver, seated across us, split his attention between our conversation and his dinner, occasionally glancing past the documents he was perusing on his cerebral interface to give us a knowing nod or other. After sharing my experiences at Mr. Shori''s, curiosity got the better of me, so I turned the conversation towards Gabe, wondering how his own endeavours in debt repayment were faring, especially since my own journey had encountered its fair share of¡­ Let¡¯s say ¡°turbulence¡±. "How''s work been treating you?" I inquired, my interest twofold: A blend of genuine concern and a desire to connect. Gabe''s expression clouded as he began, "Work''s been a beast, to put it mildly." He sighed, the strain evident. "The endless hours are a killer, but I''m hanging in there. What''s really been grinding my gears, though, are the fucking customers. There''s this... vibe, lately, that''s turning even the regulars into a bunch of complete and utter blanks. I''ve had to call in security way more than usual¡ªlike, four times more, which is just bizarre, y¡¯know? Luckily, things haven''t escalated to physical confrontations, but it''s enough to make you wonder what''s stirring up all this agitation..." Oliver''s interjection caught both Gabe and me off guard. "It''s the corporations," he stated, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Particularly in the Felstaedt and Fujioma districts, there''s been a noticeable uptick in corporate activity, sparking widespread unease across the entire city. The influx of corporate security forces is, in turn, requiring more Neo Avalis police to keep the peace, which then ends up squeezing the gangs, leading to heightened tensions all over the place. It''s like we''re all sitting on a ticking time bomb. The same unease is all over my workplace too; people are on edge, to say the least" He paused, a deep sigh escaping him as if burdened by an immense load, then elaborated, "The situation I''ve been dealing with at work is far more complex than we initially thought too. It''s not just an isolated incident at my little transport company that I work at; several major corporations have been severely hit, including Rockefeller, Falkum Industries, NanoSpike, Data Pulse, and even Sobirashu itself has suffered significant losses of crucial research data. The streets are abuzz with speculation about a major upheaval underway. The consensus is that things are likely to escalate before any semblance of normalcy returns. I ask the both of you to stay as low-key as possible in the coming days and weeks, until this all blows over, alright?" Oliver''s unusually forthright and grave demeanour was startling, a side of him I''d never witnessed. Even Gabe appeared to be slightly rattled by the gravity of Oliver''s insight. We hesitantly concurred with his advice, realising that he actually sought concrete affirmation from us after a few moments, which visibly relieved some of his burden. With that, Oliver turned his attention back to his documents, leaving Gabe and me exchanging worried looks, silently pondering the implications of Oliver''s warnings. The conversation with Oliver stirred memories I had previously set aside about the disruptions at his workplace. ''This has to be related to the OriginTech incident, doesn''t it?'' I pondered, attempting to piece together what I knew about the only major event involving such widespread data breaches across major corporations before the game''s launch. ''Unless this version of Neo Avalis has significantly deviated from the game''s narrative already, which isn''t entirely impossible given the unexpected death of Matsuiro Kobayashi, that¡¯s the only thing it could be...'' Quickly, I recognized the futility in trying to draw definitive conclusions at this point, however. The extent to which this world paralleled or diverged from the game''s narrative remained unclear, and it seemed only time would reveal how closely the events here would align with those leading up to the game''s fictional timeline. My focus had always been on the game''s immediate narrative, neglecting the deep dive into its historical context. Regrettably, I hadn''t paid much attention to the lore enthusiasts in my daily viewing marathons, whose insights would have been invaluable now. My lack of comprehensive background knowledge left me ill-prepared to fully grasp the implications of our current situation or how closely it mirrored the game''s lore. I also briefly considered asking Oliver about more specifics or maybe even asking about OriginTech itself, but stopped myself immediately. ¡®There¡¯s no way that Sera would know about any of this. Asking him about it would just lead to questions I am ill-suited to answer,¡¯ I recognized, holding my tongue for now. ¡®Not like there¡¯s a stock market we could invest in to make a quick buck off of this whole thing either anyway, so it¡¯s not like we¡¯re really losing out on anything¡­ I think.¡¯ I¡¯d have to figure out how this whole incident was likely going to affect me and the rest of the family at some point, but with my limited resources and my viewpoint being entirely restricted to the megabuilding itself, there wasn¡¯t much I could do for now. Ultimately, Gabe and I shared a few more tidbits of our recent, work-related adventures before we retired for bed. I, of course, was not going back to sleep, considering that I had just woken up from the last rest and instead opted into some more [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks] training via the SPG-01 shard. Tomorrow would be a day full of System-related research as well as unlocking a ton of Skills and seeing if there were any that I could unlock that I didn¡¯t even know existed, but for tonight, I¡¯d just hunker down with something I already knew a bit of: Netrunning. About an hour into my intensive training session with Kill Joy, I was jolted by the unexpected arrival of a message. My pulse quickened as I saw it was from Valeria, bracing myself for potential bad news. With a mix of apprehension and urgency, I opened the message:
[¡°You will be partaking in your first martial arts session tomorrow at the Arkion dojo. Your schedule has been updated with all necessary information and you will be expected to be on time. Do not disappoint me.¡±]
A heavy sigh of relief escaped my lips, realising it was merely a follow-up to my recent request at the family dinner for martial arts training. While this slightly disrupted my plans for the next day, the prospect of receiving formal training, especially in light of Oliver''s ominous warnings and the day''s harrowing events, sparked a sense of anticipation in me. The likelihood of acquiring new Skills at the dojo, undoubtedly beneficial for both self-defence and my ongoing exploration of the System, was a huge get. Reinvigorated by these thoughts, I refocused on the session with Kill Joy, eager to maximise my grinding time for the night, before I started my extensive research session into the G.E.M.A. System and its Skills on the morrow... Chapter 50 - System Research I After slotting the SPG-01 shard out from my neck and carefully placing it into its protective case, I took a moment to stretch out and knead the tension from my neck muscles. The night had been consumed by an intense netrunning study session, guided by Kill Joy''s digital avatar, leaving me feeling a bit stiff from hours of near-static posture. Glancing over the System Notifications to see the progress I had made, a smile instinctively crept across my face, reflecting the satisfaction and accomplishment of a long, productive session.
[System]: 400xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 900xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: [Quick-Hacks] has reached Level 1. [System]: 500xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: [Netrunning] has reached Level 2. [System]: 500xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
The gains in my [Programming] skill had noticeably slowed after hitting the first Perk-point milestone, as was customary, yet both [Quick-Hacks] and [Netrunning] had made some really impressive strides in progress over the past few hours. Although the lessons hadn''t specifically focused on [Netrunning], as that was part of the third¡ªand final¡ªguided lesson, the skills in [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks] naturally contributed to it, given their extensive interconnection. I still found myself in a bit of a dilemma over which [Programming] Perk to pick. [Programming Maestro] was particularly appealing, especially after this lengthy session, where I frequently found myself bogged down by challenging problems with my early programming journey, that the Perk would likely resolve immediately. However, I was still holding off on making the final decision and allocating the Perk point, wanting to be absolutely sure of my choice. I was aiming to align my [Programming] Perk choice with both the [Quick-Hacks] and [Netrunning] Perk choices as well, anticipating significant time navigating cyberspace in the future. Despite not aspiring to be a dedicated netrunner, I was acutely aware of the significance of the digital realm within the more clandestine layers of Neon Dragons¡¯ world. Having finally reached Level 1 in [Quick-Hacks] and unlocking its Perk Tree alongside the others, I had all the parts required to plan and devise a comprehensive netrunning build for that trifecta of Skills. I was trying to make sure that my preference for [Programming Maestro] was not merely a fleeting interest but a calculated decision reflecting my broader cyber activities instead. Perk points were exceedingly valuable, so I couldn¡¯t afford to squander any at this time. Pulling up the Perk tree for [Quick-Hacks], I started to delve into my future options.
[Data Spike] [Requirement: Level 3 [Quick-Hacks]] Nothing beats a good ol¡¯ fashioned brute-force attack! You gain the ability to break into the target¡¯s ICE, with a direct and forceful hack, provided the subroutine or segment deployed consumes no more than one-third of your device''s peak RAM capacity. The maximum level of ICE breachable in this fashion is based on the knowledge-level of the Skill.
[Spiritus Machina] [Requirement: Level 3 [Quick-Hacks]] Be a literal Ghost inside their systems! You gain the ability to code your programs and Quick-Hack subroutines with additional stealth layers, allowing them to remain undetected for far longer than usual.
[Subroutine Synthesis] [Requirement: Level 3 [Quick-Hacks]] Like a programming Alchemist! You gain the ability to rapidly combine parts of existing subroutines into unique, one-time-use subroutines that would otherwise not compile. The maximum complexity of the created subroutine is based on the knowledge-level of both your [Quick-Hacks] and [Programming] Skills.
[Segment Mastery] [Requirement: Level 3 [Quick-Hacks]] Just cram a bit more into it¡­ Just a tiiiny bit more¡­ Perfect! You gain the ability to add one additional (Subject), (Verb) or (Adjective) from your library into any quick-hack attempts, regardless of limitations imposed by your device or the overall complexity of the quick-hack.
Taking the Perk descriptions at face value for now, trying to keep my emotional response to them to a minimum¡ªdespite my almost feral need to gush about the Perks¡ª, I quickly opened the Perk tree for [Netrunning] as well, to get a more comprehensive view on all the future Perks available to me for the netrunning part of my initial build.
[Echo Trap] [Requirement: Level 3 [Netrunning]] The cyberspace hunter-class Perk! You gain the ability to deploy quick-hack segments or subroutines as static traps directly in cyberspace, bypassing the need for any external devices for these tasks. These traps utilise and generate only a fraction¡ªone tenth¡ªof their typical RAM and heat when active. You can dismantle these traps remotely with a mental command, irrespective of your location or line of sight.
[Heat Dump] [Requirement: Level 3 [Netrunning]] Aggressively warm! You gain the ability to offload a portion of your accumulated neural-heat onto selected targets currently influenced by your quick-hacks within cyberspace. The efficiency of heat transfer and the capacity to target multiple adversaries are determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
[Cyberspace Thief] [Requirement: Level 3 [Netrunning]] Did that bitch just steal my subroutine?! You gain the ability to attempt and snatch a random quick-hack subroutine or segment from any target currently affected by one of your quick-hacks in cyberspace. To successfully annex these digital assets, your device must have sufficient storage space available¡ªequal to or exceeding the quick-hack''s size. Additionally, your system must have available current-capacity of at least half the necessary RAM and heat capacity for immediate use of the stolen quick-hack.
[Spectral Scanner] [Requirement: Level 3 [Netrunning]] Give me just one ping¡­ You gain the ability to use your device¡¯s specs to scan cyberspace around you for hidden entities, objects or daemons. The range and level of detection is determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
Browsing through the array of Perks, my excitement spiked at the numerous paths available for exploration, yet, predictably, so did my indecision, given the tantalising array of Perks I longed for but couldn¡¯t simultaneously possess. Although I was still some distance from reaching level 3 in both [Quick-Hacks] and [Netrunning], laying out all the options like this solidified my choice of Perk in [Programming]. The unveiling of the new Perks didn¡¯t sway my initial preference for [Programming Maestro], with the possible exception of [Cyberspace Thief], which tantalised with the prospect of acquiring subroutines and segments through less orthodox means. However, this alternative approach to accumulating resources didn''t fully diminish the appeal of [Programming Maestro] either; if anything, it highlighted its value in refining and enhancing any acquired codes even further, ensuring my path remained clear and my decision firm. In recent days, I''d dedicated a considerable amount of time to mulling over which [Programming] Perk to choose, narrowing it down to two prime candidates: The previously mentioned [Programming Maestro] and [Debugging]. The latter offered an appealing safety net for any coding challenges I might encounter while creating quick-hacks, along with the chance to earn extra credits by debugging others'' work. However, after much deliberation, I leaned more towards selecting [Programming Maestro]. This choice promised a superior level of creativity in coding, applicable not just to quick-hacks but also to standard programming tasks and potentially unforeseen future needs, making it the more enticing option for my current goals. Selecting the [Programming Maestro] Perk felt like an ideal initial step to bolster my burgeoning programming and netrunning abilities. This versatile, entry-level Perk seemed poised to elevate nearly every facet of my coding journey. It held the promise of enabling me to review others'' code more insightfully, spot alternative approaches, and crucially, overcome obstacles like the ones that had stalled me during the entirety of tonight''s lesson with Kill Joy. With [Programming Maestro] in my toolkit, I anticipated a substantial boost in my experience grind efficiency¡ªpossibly up to 30-40% more per hour with Kill Joy looking over my shoulder, thanks to bypassing the long-winded, convoluted problem-solving I had been doing until now. Sure, the resulting code might resemble a patchwork akin to Frankenstein''s creation, and coding purists might baulk at my methods, but my immediate priority was creating operational code swiftly, not writing the cleanest, most effective code possible. Armed with the newly gained insights from the two additional Perk Trees, I made the decisive move to lock in [Programming Maestro] as my chosen Perk, ready to embrace its potential for my programming journey going forward.
[System]: [Programming Maestro] (Programming) Perk acquired.
¡®Good start for my research today! Already unlocked to more Perk trees, used up all of my existing Perk points and can start working on theory-crafting my build for netrunning purposes¡­ Definitely a good start,¡¯ I thought to myself with a satisfied smile on my face, while assuming a more comfortable position in bed. I glanced at the clock and noted that I had about thirty minutes before Gabriel''s alarm would go off. Not wanting to disturb his rest, I decided to use this quiet interlude for much-needed relaxation time. To keep my thoughts from drifting back to the complexities surrounding Aki and our uncertain future interactions¡ªa topic I wasn''t willing, nor ready to delve into just yet¡ªI turned to [Meditation]. I found it to be an effective way to centre my mind and maintain focus, while also grinding some simple experience on the side. As I delved deeper into a meditative state, I listened attentively for the familiar sounds of Gabriel beginning his morning routine. This peaceful moment of tranquillity was a welcome break, allowing me to gather my thoughts and prepare for the research-heavy day ahead¡­
Stepping into the shower after my usual morning workout routine a couple hours later, I quickly went over my morning gains, before I¡¯d start thinking about my research that I had planned for the day.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: 400xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 0xp. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
I had gone quite hard on the exercises again today, figuring that I wouldn¡¯t have too much use for my energy today, aside from grinding out experience either way. I still would have to find a more sustainable increase in difficulty, as the amount of extra effort that I was currently putting into my workouts compared to before, really didn¡¯t result in the bump in experience gains I had initially hoped for. But for now, it would do. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Pulling up the whole [Skills] interface, I quickly checked for any changes and to get an idea of what I might still have to unlock today. There was a veritable ocean of Skills available in Neon Dragons, and, with the G.E.M.A. System capable of creating entirely new ones, which had never existed in the game itself, I was bound to end up unlocking a ton of new Skills today that I¡¯d have to categorise and somehow turn into usable parts of my life going forward. I discovered two new entries on my [Skills] list that weren''t there before, leaving me momentarily puzzled until I remembered the overlooked System Notifications from that complete disaster of a data-collection mission. The two newly unlocked skills were [Climbing] and [Jury-Rigging]. Identifying the origin of [Climbing] was straightforward; I must have earned it while descending from the apartment building I had used for recon on the netrunner and her crew, deliberating the most strategic approach to get to the shard. When I had gained [Jury-Rigging], however, took me a moment longer to deduce. I ultimately figured it had been awarded for fashioning an impromptu projectile with the shards, debris, and stones I had collected and honed using the [Sharpen] Perk. It governed anything one might consider Mac-Gyver¡¯ing, so to speak. Any jury-rigged solution to a problem or jury-rigged piece of equipment would be part of this Skill. It was a restricted-hybrid crafting Skill, based on the Intuition and Tech Attributes. Just like the other crafting Skills I had unlocked, such as [Cooking] and [Poison], [Jury-Rigging] came with one of those sweet "first-time" bonuses, which explained why I snagged it for something as basic as crafting makeshift projectiles from alleyway trash. Probably wouldn¡¯t get another experience drop for the same exact ¡°craft¡± going forward, but hey, it was worth a shot in today''s deep dive into Skills either way. Level 0 Skills were quite generous with what they awarded experience for, after all. ''So, what''s on the to-do list?'' I mused, scrolling through my mental catalogue of game Skills I knew I had to nab. Some of the heavy hitters like [Engineering], [Cybernetics], [Machining], or [Genetics] were extremely far out of reach for now, so they were benched in my brain''s "get to it eventually" section. A section I really hoped wouldn¡¯t grow too large, but was likely going to end up including a significant portion of today¡¯s research. Then there were the "everyday" Skills I figured I''d stumble into unlocking without much fuss, stuff like [Dancing], [Singing], and [Drawing]. I didn''t quite see the point of them yet, but I might as well bag ''em while I was already at it. But when it came down to the real deal, the really useful Skills I could actually get my hands on right away, pinning down a list was proving to be a bit of a brain teaser. As I racked my brain, I tried to channel my inner detective, ¡®Okay, Sera, think! You''ve got [Tailoring], [Lip-Reading], and [Tracking] on the must-have list, but there''s a whole bunch more floating around in the noggin''. Time to dig deep!¡¯ I remembered pouring over the game''s Skill list for hours on end, but now that I actually needed to recall specific Skills, my brain was playing hard to get. Gradually, though, the mist in my mind started to clear, and bits and pieces from the game''s vast Skill repertoire bubbled to the surface. "Ah, that''s right! FelineOfTheNorth and those nifty economy builds!" I recalled, a lightbulb flicking on in my head. ¡®For that, I''d need stuff like [Accounting], [Business], [Cryptography], and [Gambling], though¡­ Not sure how I''m gonna pull off the last three just yet, but [Accounting] should be a piece of cake. Just need to start jotting down my expenses and earnings, and I''m set to unlock it in no time.¡¯ I also had my sights set on a whole array of scientific Skills, such as [Physics], [Mathematics], [Chemistry], [Biology] and similar, but right now, they felt as elusive as a mirage. In the game, these Skills were tightly gated behind fairly high Intellect levels as well, which hinted that I might not even be able to snag them even if I stumbled upon the right information shard. It was a bit like knowing there''s a treasure chest, but not having the key, nor knowing where the chest even was in the first place. Gold Roger would be proud of the non-descript nature of my search. There were also a myriad of crafting Skills that ranged from simple armour crafting, such as [Light-Armour], [Medium-Armour], [Heavy-Armour] and [Super Heavy-Armour] over weapon crafting and alterations, to cybernetic and bionics crafting as well, if I somehow managed to get myself some seriously sophisticated equipment and a lab. They, alongside the science-type Skills, were like the ultimate crown jewels on my "Oh, I so want these right now" list. Yet, at the same time, they were also perched right on top of my "Yeah, not happening anytime soon" list. Talk about shooting for the stars! They were definitely getting filed under "dreams for later," seeing as they demanded a hefty combo of Attributes, creds, and street rep just to dip my toes into the required knowledge pool, not to mention the gear and tech to actually fully dive in and make proper use of them. For the time being, my crafting ambitions were snugly tied to [Tailoring], [Medicine], and maybe even [Alchemy]¡ªthat is, if I could luck out on snagging the more esoteric ingredients the last one called for. Both [Medicine] and [Alchemy] were intriguing and exceedingly useful in their own rights, however. The former was all about conventional, science-backed medicine, while [Alchemy] dabbled in the more mystical side of Neon Dragons, offering effects that were nothing short of miraculous. I vividly remembered this one elixir from the game that was crafted using [Alchemy]. It had been called the [Wyvern-Lore Elixir]. It was an extremely hot commodity for players because it boosted your experience gains by a certain percentage while active. The catch? It slashed your max health by a similarly impactful percentage, depending on the elixir''s quality. It was a risky choice, especially for me since I didn¡¯t have the luxury of respawns or reloads, but for those grinding tough, expensive-to-level Skills, or just after a general level boost, it was like striking gold. A little twinge of frustration at the continuous thoughts of ¡°have to shelve those Skills for later¡± nipped at me, but I brushed it off. Today wasn''t just about chasing down known Skills; it was about diving headfirst into the G.E.M.A. System''s self-created labyrinth. I wanted to unravel how it interpreted the world around me and uncover any new, unique Skills it had dreamt up for this reality. Skills that were never part of the game but could be just as pivotal in my journey here. To get a head-start on my Skill unlock journey, I opted into starting right away, as the pool of knowledge about pre-existing Skills inside my brain seemed to be starting to dry up. ¡°Just a small-town girl¡­ Living in a lonely wooorld¡­!¡± I started belting in the shower, figuring a good ol¡¯ classic from way before my time would do just nicely to unlock the first of many Skills today: [Singing]...
Three hours later, currently deeply engrossed in my attempt at unlocking [Tailoring], as I fumbled with attaching strips of cloth to the work-shirt I''d wrecked during yesterday''s data-collection fiasco, I took a mental inventory of the day''s achievements. My struggle with the needle wasn''t a descent into madness, that screamed for distraction¡ªNo, no! It was a deliberate pause to reflect on my progress. Yeah, that''s it. A deliberate pause. The tally was already quite impressive, considering the short amount of time I had spent on the research so far: [Singing], [Dancing], [Drawing], [Tracking], [Lip-Reading], and [Accounting] were now part of my skill set, alongside a deeper understanding of the System''s mechanics. ¡®First and foremost, to gain experience, more than 50% of any given action needs to be completed,¡¯ I reiterated for myself. It was something I had realised immediately upon trying to unlock [Singing] in the shower earlier that day, as simply repeating the same few refrains or chorus¡¯ did nothing to give me the experience drop to unlock the Skill. Furthermore, this had been confirmed again later, when I had tried to figure out how repeated experience drops actually worked. ''Figures that just repeating an action isn''t enough. I gotta step it up each time, plus clear the halfway mark of the task,'' I pondered, struggling to tighten the thread without causing a catastrophic tear for the umpteenth time, my frustration at a point where I was barely holding on. ''You''d think my skills in [Slicing] might lend a hand here. But nope, the System''s having none of that nonsense, I guess. No cross-skill shortcuts allowed for this one... [Tailoring] and [Slicing] might as well be worlds apart.'' The repetition game with singing the same song had been enlightening, if a bit frustrating. The System was a tough critic; without changing something up¡ªthe pitch, the rhythm, or adding a little flair here and there¡ªit just turned a deaf ear. It was clear: Doing the same old thing wasn''t going to cut it. This System demanded innovation, creativity, and a little bit of elbow grease. Unlocking [Singing] had unironically been something like hitting the jackpot in terms of figuring out how to game the System¡¯s experience mechanics. It was a narrower skill, making it easier to test out my theories on skill acquisition. Before, when I was tackling broader skills like exercise routines, things were too spread out to make any solid guesses. But [Singing]? It was a goldmine for this type of micro-experimentation. Using what I learned from my vocal adventures, I threw myself into [Dancing], applying the same principles. And guess what? It paid off. The theory that over half the action needed completion and that each attempt had to have some sort of twist to it for additional experience gains held up. [Dancing] confirmed it. But it also taught me something extra: Not just any old change would net me that sweet, sweet XP. My foray into [Dancing] was like a crash course in gaming the System''s skill development criteria as well. I wasn''t born a dancing maestro, but I''ve had enough rhythm in my veins to tell if I''m totally out of sync. This innate sense of beat was a key ally in deciphering what kind of modifications the System would count as meaningful for repeated experience gains. Here was the trick: It wasn''t about random alterations to my dance moves. I had to enhance my routine, not just switch it up aimlessly. "Enhancement" was a bit of a vague term, I admit, but it was the best way to describe the process given my limited understanding of the System''s internal evaluation mechanisms. My experiments were telling: Just adding more steps willy-nilly, even if they threw me off-beat, didn''t cut it for the System. No XP for that. But when I extended existing steps, keeping the rhythm intact, the System seemed to acknowledge these as legitimate improvements, or alterations, rewarding me with experience points for essentially doing the same dance but with a bit more finesse. Unlocking this insight felt like finding a cheat code for my workout routine. It dawned on me that I could devise an evolving, incrementally more challenging exercise plan, which would enhance my Skill and Attribute gains more efficiently each morning. Instead of doubling my efforts, which also, invariably, met the System''s criteria, I realised I could simply tack on an extra push-up or sit-up here and there. This gradual escalation, as long as the System recognized it as a "significant change," should net me consistent experience boosts without the need to drastically increase my workload, as I had been doing for the past few days. This approach wasn''t just a theory; it had practical applications across different Skills, as evidenced by my initial foray into [Drawing]. Starting with crude sketches of everyday objects and progressively refining the details with each re-draw¡ªlike shadows, perspective, and lighting¡ªproved to yield successive experience drops, mirroring my experiences with [Dancing]. Each improvement, no matter how seemingly insignificant, was a step toward mastering the Skill, solidifying the notion that strategic, incremental changes could significantly impact my progression in the System''s eyes. Armed with this newfound strategy, racking up the initial 700 experience points needed for the Level 1 knowledge download seemed like it was going to be a breeze compared to my previous brute-force approach. Now, I could cycle through the same action that had unlocked the Skill for me in the first place, seven times, each time tweaking a little something here and there, rather than mindlessly repeating the same motion and hoping for the System to be kind enough to finally let me level up. This technique was not only going to make the process more engaging but seemed to trick the System into thinking I was constantly innovating, making those first steps towards unlocking a Skill a lot smoother and, frankly, more enjoyable. With these groundbreaking insights under my belt, I also bumped into some limitations. Not all Skills seemed to play by the same rules. Take [Lip-Reading], for instance, a Skill I managed to snag while making a targeted supply run to the 31st floor, avoiding any other detours below my home-floor to steer clear of any unwelcome encounters. This Skill didn''t lend itself to the same tricks I''d used to finagle extra experience drops from the System. It turned out to be one of those abilities that was likely going to demand constant practice to improve, without much wiggle room for creative adjustments. My conclusion, after half an hour of trying different approaches, was that there wasn''t much I could tweak in my lip-reading method to game the system for more experience. As I reflected on my recent session with the [Accounting] Skill, I realised that finding ways to iterate and improve in this area was going to be a similarly challenging endeavour. The nature of accounting didn''t particularly lend itself to much creativity in terms of altering methods. It was pretty straightforward¡ªdocumenting income, expenses, and maybe working out a budget. So, at this point, my [Accounting] Skill had done just that, offering a clear picture of my current financial standing. After my trip to pick up supplies, my digital wallet was feeling lighter, with just 130 credits remaining from my modest savings. The expenditure of 30 credits had been necessary, though. I had stocked up on essentials for [Tailoring]¡ªthread, needles, fabric¡ªand also grabbed some basic chemicals and pharmaceuticals. My hope was that these purchases might help me cobble together something intricate enough to also kickstart my [Medicine] Skill. But as it stood, my budget was a simple, static record¡ªnot much room for the kind of dynamic changes that had helped me with the other Skills. During my trip, I had also managed to unlock [Lip-Reading] while also on the lookout for [Alchemy] supplies, although the latter proved fruitless. It dawned on me that Rockefeller Inc¡¯s shopping floor wasn¡¯t exactly prime territory for sourcing the more esoteric ingredients needed for [Alchemy]. Reflecting on it, it wasn¡¯t much of a surprise either. Rockefeller Inc, with its military-first ethos, didn¡¯t seem the type to dabble in Neon Dragons¡¯ mystical elements¡ªnot until they could find a way to commercialise them for mass consumption, that is. Once they cracked that code, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to see Rockefeller Inc branching into alchemy supplies as well. After all, the super-heavy, gravity-like allure of credits had a way of bending even the most staunchly martial corporations. During my recent trip to the 31st floor, I also attempted to gain some of the last experience I required for my first level-up in [Negotiation], but I quickly realised that the area was more akin to a regular store than a bustling bazaar. The store clerks there were pretty rigid, sticking to the listed prices without any room for haggling. It made me think about Misha, that enigmatic and generous Gryplik from whom I had purchased my Operator equipment at a significant discount. ''A visit to Misha¡¯s Emporium might not only be pleasant but also beneficial to finally make some headway on my [Negotiation] skill,'' I pondered, recalling her kind demeanour. However, with no pressing need for anything from Misha''s Emporium and the priority to repay Gabriel in the forefront of my mind, I had to acknowledge that my current credit balance was more of a fleeting resource than a fund for personal indulgences. As I finally managed to secure another piece of fabric over one of yesterday''s numerous tears, I was greeted by the familiar, eagerly anticipated chime inside my head, signalling the unlock of a new Skill. "About fucking time!" I exclaimed, somewhat exasperated, as I tossed the shirt, needle, and thread across the kitchen table. "I''m not exactly thrilled about levelling this Skill until I hit the first knowledge download," I grumbled to myself, realising I''d need to repeat this tedious process at least six more times for some System-endorsed guidance. Nonetheless, I couldn''t really gripe about how the first part of today''s deep dive into research had turned out. There were still plenty of hours left before my appointment at the Arkion Dojo, and an overwhelming list of Skills to explore and potentially unlock. My mind started to wander, trying to prepare another list of things I wanted to try out next, as I took a much needed break, ¡®Just what kind of Skills could the System have included that hadn¡¯t existed in the game¡­?¡¯ Chapter 51 - System Research II Figuring out the System''s logic was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. ''How am I ever supposed to guess what the System has up its sleeve¡­?'' was the question that echoed in my mind as I delved into the mystery of its rules. Neon Dragons was already packed with a diverse set of Skills, making it challenging to pinpoint what new additions the G.E.M.A. System deemed necessary. There had been so many Skills, in-fact, that many critics and players alike had actually deducted points on their reviews for the game, simply due to the sheer number of ¡°useless¡± seeming Skills. If only they knew what kind of import some of those Skills would end up having for me. Skills like [Maid] and [Manifestation], which I had stumbled upon unexpectedly and weren''t part of the original game, threw me for a loop with their unexpected utility and origin. Then there was [Juggling], which, while it made sense as a Skill for enhancing reflexes, blurred the lines for me between mere physical exercise and ¡°Skill-worthy¡± endeavours. It inevitably made me question, ''Why aren''t [Push-Ups], [Sit-Ups], or [Resistance-Training] considered Skills when they''re essentially body training, akin to how [Juggling] trains Reflex?'' The distinction between what constituted a simple exercise and what qualified as a Skill was something I was struggling to figure out, regardless of how I wrote down each of my Skills on my cerebral interface¡¯s notepad and tried to connect the dots. [Slicer] was the one skill I stumbled upon that had just clicked for me. It filled a niche that, while not covered in the original game, was undoubtedly valuable and didn''t have a direct counterpart. Sure, [Ripper] was in the game, dealing with similar themes of human bodies, surgeries, and cybernetics. Yet, when you got down to the nitty-gritty, [Ripper] and [Slicer] approached these themes from markedly different angles. [Slicer] was all about the finesse and precision required in surgery, whereas [Ripper] leaned more towards the logistics, like choosing the right meds to prevent cybernetic rejection or understanding the basic pre- and post-surgery needs. While it ultimately also dealt with surgery at later levels, [Slicer] was the decidedly more direct approach to it. This distinction made [Slicer] not just logical, but downright necessary in this world¡ªa gap filled by the System''s ingenuity. It had always bugged me that the game acknowledged ripper-docs without giving due credit to the intricate work of slicers. The absence of a more generalistic medicinal skill had seemed like a slight to slicers'' critical role, but with [Slicer] now part of the mix, it felt like a rectification of that oversight. All this pondering didn''t get me any closer to unravelling how the System distinguished routine actions from those worthy of a [Skill], however. The insights I''d gained about the System''s XP mechanics compounded the issue further. Considering that each action had to be more than halfway completed to earn XP or unlock a [Skill], the challenge wasn''t just identifying actions that could yield XP for unknown [Skills] but defining those actions with clear boundaries as well. Take jogging, as an example. How were you to pinpoint the finish line for a jog? While one might think it ended when you stopped, the System was almost certainly going to demand more, rejecting the idea you could game XP by starting and stopping jogs every second or so for Body Attribute gains. It implied the System had to have set a minimum threshold of effort for any activity to count as ¡°initiated¡±. A jog, then, would presumably need a solid 5-10 minutes of continuous effort to qualify for XP or to unlock a related [Skill]. With a jog, this was quite simple to deduce and potentially test, but what about [Maid], as a contra? If I had simply tidied up a bit of mine and Gabriel¡¯s room just because it needed doing, but only done so a bit at a time due to laziness or myriad other, similar reasons, ultimately without aiming to hit any specific target, I¡¯d likely never have stumbled upon the hidden, elusive mark necessary for that initial XP drop to unlock the [Skill]. It¡¯d be as if [Maid] hadn¡¯t existed for me, all because my efforts fell short of some unknown benchmark that I had no way of knowing about. ¡®Man, a guide or something to clue me in on what [Skills] are even out there would be a complete game-changer¡­¡¯ I thought, the annoyance building as I dwelled on this conundrum for what felt like forever. In my growing exasperation, I had even combed through the G.E.M.A. System''s interface, half-hoping I''d missed a guide or a help feature, but came up empty. Some options remained inaccessible, simply greyed out with no option to interface with them, their purposes obscured and without any hints on how to activate them either. Maybe one of these hidden features could offer the guidance I sought, but their secrets remained firmly locked away for now. I let out a frustrated sigh, the sense of being at a standstill becoming palpable. ''Looks like I''ll need to pay closer attention to my actions, stretching them out if necessary, to hit those unseen [Skill] activation markers,'' I mused, making a mental note of this strategy as a stopgap until I could unravel more of the System''s intricacies. ''For the moment, revisiting all those moments while watching let¡¯s plays and playthroughs where I wondered, ¡°Why isn¡¯t this a [Skill]?¡± seems like my best bet, I guess. It¡¯s a way to start, at least, and who knows? It might just reveal more about how the System ticks if I¡¯m lucky.'' Rising from the kitchen chair, I went to retrieve my scattered [Tailoring] materials, deciding to pack them away for another day. My enthusiasm for [Tailoring] had thoroughly waned after the day''s exhaustive efforts to even just unlock it. My gaze then turned to my [Medicine] ingredients, sparking the realisation of a significant hurdle in my quest for this Skill¡¯s unlock and mastery: The lack of proper lab equipment. Mixing chemicals, especially those with a high toxicity level, without precise measurements was a recipe for disaster. I needed accurate scales, a clean workspace, and a variety of containers capable of handling chemical reactions without contaminating the concoctions. Ideally, glass or quartz beakers would fit the bill, though I was fairly certain our apartment was devoid of any such specialised gear. I rummaged through our kitchen, silently grateful for Valeria''s strange list of priorities which included an insistence on a well-equipped kitchen despite no one in the family actually doing any home-cooking at all. Among the finds were several pans and pots in varying sizes, and to my surprise, some rather sturdy, basic kitchen gadgets including an electric mixer, a hand blender, and an array of spoons, ladles, and spatulas. "Hmm..." I mused aloud, eyeing the kitchen tools I''d spread out on the table. "Which of these could actually be useful?" After a brief moment of consideration, I selected the second smallest pot, along with the electric mixer, a spoon, and all the ladles at hand, then headed to the stove. "I really hope this works," I whispered to myself, positioning the pot on the induction top. My first task was to produce pure water, or rather, purer water¡ªit was unlikely I¡¯d manage anything close to perfection with the equipment I had on hand¡ª, meaning I''d have to distil some as best as I could manage. Thankfully, my penchant for watching random chemistry videos online had given me a rough idea of how to accomplish this without ending in disaster; or so I hoped. I filled the pot with tap water, uncertain of its purity, and set it to boil. Then, taking the smallest pot, I arranged it to catch the steam, using the lid placed askew and a ladle to direct the condensation into the smaller vessel. I cranked the heat to maximum and waited, hoping for the water to evaporate and leave me with my makeshift distilled water in the collection pot. Rigging up a makeshift distillation setup to purify water might not have been the pinnacle of efficiency, and the end product was hardly lab-grade, but it beat making another trip outside the apartment today. Once I had my somewhat cleaner water, I turned my attention to the stash of chemicals I''d snagged earlier. "Alright, let''s get this mixture right..." I pondered, recognizing the lack of precision tools like a scale in the kitchen could turn this experiment from risky to downright hazardous. A wrong ratio could end up with an unintended side-product that released some seriously toxic fumes, a mistake I wasn''t exactly keen on making. After another thorough, yet fruitless search for a scale¡ªhoping against hope I''d overlooked one¡ªI let out a frustrated sigh. "Damnit..." Flicking through the options on my cerebral interface, I clung to the hope that somewhere in the advanced tech implanted in my head, there lay a feature that could approximate a scale. After all, in a world as advanced as this, it seemed absurd not to have some form of built-in measurement tools available, right? To my immense relief and outright joy, I stumbled across a visual scale buried within the plethora of options my entry-level cybernetic implant offered. "Yes!" I couldn''t help but celebrate with a punch into the air before getting down to business with a small spoon and the first bag of chemicals. As I poured the powder onto the spoon, a virtual ring appeared around its edge, analysing the volume of the ingredients in a blink, giving me a rough estimate of the weight. To dial in the accuracy, I fed the app the specific name of the chemical, ensuring it accounted for the correct density and weight, aiming to minimise the chance for any potential mishaps, considering the rough and imprecise nature of this whole endeavour. Thankfully, Neon Dragons hadn¡¯t been one of those games that oversimplified crafting into just mixing a bag of "chemical A" with a bag of "chemical B" to receive the desired recipe¡¯s output. Instead, it had demanded precise measurements and genuine effort for concocting recipes, such as dialling in proper temperatures, mixing things properly and all the steps that could realistically be needed to truly craft a certain item, leaving me surprisingly well-prepared for this moment, despite my last real-life encounter with chemistry being in the sixth grade and never venturing into the realm of medicine creation at all. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. After getting the first ingredient right, the rest of the process unfolded smoothly. I added them to the semi-distilled water in the pot and brought it to a boil, letting the hand-mixer do its job to prevent any chance of burning. Keeping a cautious distance in case my memory of the recipe was off and I accidentally produced a hazardous byproduct, I watched anxiously. Thankfully, my precautions proved unnecessary. In just a few minutes, the concoction transformed into a greyish paste, signalling not only the change in texture but also my success as the System chimed in with a new [Skill] unlock.
[System]: [Medicine] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Medicine] Skill.
"Yeeees!" I couldn''t contain my excitement, a wave of dopamine flooding my system as I removed the pot from the stove. The next step was to dry out the paste to create a powder, but knowing I was over halfway through the recipe was a massive relief. The fact that I''d unlocked [Medicine] was a good sign I remembered the recipe correctly as well. After all, mixing random chemicals to no beneficial end wouldn''t exactly qualify as anything related to [Medicine], right? Strangely enough, [Chemistry] was also a legit Skill in Neon Dragons, but it was out of reach for me for the time being. From what I could recall, unlocking it demanded a Tech and Intellect of at least 4, whereas [Medicine] didn''t really have such prerequisites. I figured this discrepancy was probably for gameplay balance. The devs had likely wanted to make sure that the players could whip up some basic meds without much hassle, but keeping the more explosive or illicit chemical experiments behind a bit more of a barrier. Despite their similarities, this separation meant I could dabble in [Medicine] right off the bat, while [Chemistry] would have to wait. As I spread the paste onto the only oven tray I managed to find¡ªhidden in the last place I checked; inside the oven, of course, because where else?¡ªand set the oven to a gentle heat to avoid any chance of burning the mixture. As I did so, I pondered whether levelling up [Medicine] might incidentally boost my [Chemistry] Skills too, once I had it unlocked. ¡®It would make sense, as the System doesn¡¯t seem to really make a distinction between Skills that are used with any particular action. Throwing a knife does level up both [Throwing] and [Knives], after all, so I don¡¯t really see why this would be any different¡­ But I guess that¡¯s not really relevant until I actually get to [Chemistry].¡¯ After setting everything up for a slow dry, I made sure to clean up my makeshift lab thoroughly. The last thing I needed was to stumble through an explanation with the rest of the family about my kitchen chemistry experiments. Sure, I could spin some tale about practising recipes from the food stall, but honestly, I''d rather keep this adventure entirely under wraps if possible. Leaning back into the chair, I picked up where I left off, pondering if the brief disruption with the [Medicine] Skill''s unlock might''ve jogged my brain into a new line of thinking. ''Okay, so if I were the System, what Skills would I sneak in there?'' I mused. Typically, RPGs didn¡¯t bother with Skills like [Singing] or [Dancing] beyond a quest gimmick or two. But Neon Dragons was a different beast, treating them as full-blown Skills complete with their own Perk trees and uses. That meant the obvious low-hanging fruit were off the table for me to guess at. Then it hit me, ''What about musical instruments?'' If vocal and dance skills were in play, but nothing for making music, that gap seemed like a ripe opportunity. ''I''ll need to snag an affordable instrument to give it a whirl,'' I noted down in the file I had started this morning, adding it to my future shopping list for when I had some disposable income. For now, my scant funds were earmarked for essentials only, like [Medicine] and [Tailoring]. A potential music production [Skill] sounded cool, but it wasn''t something I absolutely needed right away. Continuing to mull over the potential Skills I hadn''t explored yet, I got to thinking about the limitations within the System itself. ''There''s no dedicated [Running] Skill, it''s all bundled under [Athletics], so anything branching from that''s probably off the table,'' I pondered, wanting to at least find a handful of Skills to work towards, so as to not waste this entire day worth of research. ''[Acrobatics] falls into the same bucket, and I''ve already snagged [Climbing], which is the only logical offshoot I can think of. It''d be a stretch to say [Climbing] falls directly under either, in any sane discussion.'' After letting my thoughts wander for a good half hour, a few viable Skills popped up in my mind. I considered exploring [Fixing], [Gardening] / [Farming], maybe some type of [Husbandry] or [Pet Care], and potentially, for practical reasons, [Laws] or [Corporate Rights] of some kind. Given the existence of Skills like [Slicing] and [Ripping], and not to forget [Ganger] from the game, [Fixing] seemed like a natural Skill to exist. However, it felt out of reach unless I somehow got involved in a crew job, which wasn''t on the horizon anytime soon. Still, I made a mental note of it on my figurative ''to-explore'' list, hoping to maybe tackle it in the future. The idea of [Gardening] or [Farming] immediately clicked with me, just as [Slicing] had before. In the game, these concepts weren''t touched upon since the developers hadn''t integrated any agriculture mechanics. Yet, in a world that was fully realised and had to exist on its own two feet, agriculture must play some role, suggesting the System would accommodate such activities with a [Skill], given I could find actual seeds and a suitable environment for growth. And while my recent market excursions hadn''t unveiled any gardening or farming outlets, it wasn''t too surprising either. ''Considering the cramped living conditions, it''s understandable,'' I reflected, considering the logistics of urban agriculture. ''There''s hardly room for personal belongings, let alone farming. Plus, without access to sunlight, I''d likely need a UV lamp to simulate the necessary conditions for plant growth.'' With this in mind, I added a note to my shopping list: Seeds, soil, plant pots, and potentially a UV lamp, as essentials for exploring this avenue further. Next on my list was diving into the world of [Pet Care] or some form of [Husbandry]. Unlike my previous world, where pets were a common sight in many households, the universe of Neon Dragons portrayed a starkly different reality. The demanding balance¡ªor complete and utter lack thereof¡ªbetween work and life in this cyberpunk setting left little room for the luxury of pet ownership, especially for those requiring constant care and attention. Yet, the concept wasn''t entirely alien here either. The richer citizens of Neo Avalis, in particular, were known to maintain rather exotic collections of animals, showcasing their wealth, status and influence. Although the idea of managing an extensive menagerie was far beyond my means and current ambitions, the prospect of caring for a stray cat, dog, or any other animal once I ventured beyond Delta was definitely something I could imagine. ''I wonder what perks would come with such a Skill... A beastmaster-like progression could come in handy, assuming I find the right companion,'' I pondered, allowing myself a small grin at the thought. While the notion of companion-based builds hadn''t ever been my go-to strategy, the recent mission''s debacle had me open to any advantage I could secure to keep myself safe(r) in this unpredictable world. To prepare for any potential encounters, I made an additional note to pick up some simple, throwable food for my first outing beyond the confines of the megabuilding, just in case I stumbled upon any stray animals lurking in the vast urban sprawl. Last on my current list was some kind of [Law] Skill. In Neon Dragons, there had been NPC lawyers, both civil and corporate-based, but it was not actually a branch of gameplay that the player character themselves could follow. The developers had very much made the whole legal aspect a side-game in itself, where you¡¯d have to continuously keep good relations with different lawyers through a wide variety of means, in order to get access to legal documents or have protection in case something more severe was brought up. While there were no real enforceable laws in Neo Avalis in specific, as the police was not equipped to deal with such a vast populace at all, there were still instances where a legal battle was the most cost and time efficient way to handle an incident, for both individuals as well as corporations. It usually only happened when both parties had some form of massive collateral, so simply ¡°getting rid¡± of one party was not an option, but it also sometimes ended up happening over minor disagreements, if the act of setting a legal precedent was considered worth the effort. The world''s judicial system closely mirrored what I was familiar with from my previous life, predominantly overseen by a sole judge unless the case escalated beyond what one individual could confidently adjudicate. Then, it would shift to an anonymous panel to distribute the weight of responsibility¡ªand potential weight of consequences. Judges typically hailed from the upper crust of society, as the average Joe couldn''t realistically juggle the demands of acquiring the requisite qualifications with the ludicrous day-to-day demands of actually staying alive. While there were a handful of outliers, it was a rare sight to see someone from a modest background in such a position of power. This skewed representation meant navigating the legal waters was particularly treacherous for those not of the same social strata. Attempting to seek justice against someone of higher standing without concrete proof was a seriously risky endeavour. More often than not, without undeniable evidence, your claims could easily be dismissed, sometimes backfiring to the point of finding yourself behind bars instead. Considering all that, [Law], [Corporate Rights], or anything related felt like a solid candidate for a [Skill] the System might have up its sleeve. Assuming my hunch about the System was on the mark, it seemed logical there¡¯d be a [Skill] for most such broad job categories. But unlocking it and getting good at it promised to be as tricky as mastering [Gardening]. ¡®Wonder if there¡¯s a shard-library or someplace I can snag information shards from¡­?¡¯ The thought wasn¡¯t new, but with my ever-expanding wishlist of Skills and world knowledge, the urgency to hunt one down was becoming increasingly undeniable. Shards with this sort of intel were probably as pricey as books in mediaeval times, meaning I might only manage to snag a couple after weeks of grinding at Mr. Shori¡¯s. Yet, they¡¯d be absolutely crucial and downright irreplaceable for unlocking different Skills for me and boosting my progress in others significantly. ¡®Guess I¡¯ll hit up Mr. Shori, see if he¡¯s got intel on any such spots,¡¯ I decided, dropping another reminder in my notes, fingers crossed I wouldn¡¯t space out on it, the next time I went down to the 16th floor. Glancing back over my scribbles from today, I found myself in a pretty good mood about it all. Sure, the haul of new Skills wasn¡¯t exactly breaking any records, but the ones I did bag were either right there on the money in terms of utility or seemed like they¡¯d level up easy enough to give me a quick peek at the Perks they¡¯d unlock. Plus, I¡¯d cracked some of the code on how the System¡¯s XP drops worked, which meant I could fine-tune my daily grind to get the max bang for my buck. On top of that, I had my hands on a tidy list of non-game [Skills] to chase after, on top of the hefty catalogue of game [Skills] I was already eyeing but hadn¡¯t quite gotten my hands on yet, for one reason or another. All in all, not too shabby for a day¡¯s work. Glancing at the clock, I realised I still had a solid five hours before my session at the Arkion Dojo. Only one viable road lay ahead: More [Skill] grinding. I decided to set up another pot for some [Medicine] crafting, this time filling it with more than three times as much water. I was going to increase the amount of medicine I was going to craft with this batch, both because I had semi-confirmed that my initial recipe had succeeded and also because I wanted to see how the System would react to a three-times¡¯ing of crafting¡ªnamely, if it would give me 3x the amount of experience, more than that or potentially even less. Simultaneously, I also dragged my [Tailoring] kit back from its exile in my room. Felt a bit like Runecrafting or downing veggies¡ªknew it was good for me, even if I wasn''t exactly thrilled about it. ''Might as well knock out as much as I can today, rather than scramble for time later,'' I figured. So, with my makeshift lab ready, tailoring gear at the ready, and a song on my lips, I dove into the triple-threat grind. ''Let''s see if juggling three Skills at the same time amps up the XP gains too,'' I mused, cracking a grin, all the while hoping my multitasking wouldn''t end in disaster. ''Surely, the System''s gotta throw some extra points my way for managing all three at once, right? That¡¯s a lot tougher than doing only one thing at a time!'' Like that, I decided to spend my next few hours until my scheduled appointment at the Arkion Dojo, where I¡¯d finally get some, literal, hands-on experience with [Martial Arts]... Chapter 52 - Arkion Dojo By the time my appointment at the Dojo rolled around, I had, more or less, successfully completed my triple-threat grind for experience. My hands were cramping up, like claw-gripping a controller for fighting games for far too long, due to the whole [Tailoring] business, but the gains I had made were nothing to sneeze at. Pulling up the condensed list of notifications for my grind, I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I put away the freshly cleaned pots from my [Medicine] training.
[System]: 500xp gained for [Medicine] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Singing] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Tailoring] Skill.
¡®So¡­ I definitely get more experience if I increase the amount I make at the same time¡­ I wonder if that¡¯s a quantitative bonus, or simply because making more at once is technically more challenging?¡¯ I wondered, pondering over the system¡¯s experience calculation mechanics anew. ¡®[Tailoring] is going to take forever to level at my current rate though. I really hope the 1st-level knowledge download is going to help me out big time here¡­¡¯ As I headed for mine and Gabriel¡¯s shared room to prepare for my trip to the dojo, I was abruptly startled by a message. Seeing the name of the sender, I immediately opened it, anxiety spreading throughout my body, fearing I had messed up with the times.
[An outfit for your appointment has been prepared in your wardrobe, daughter. Make sure not to disappoint.]
Breathing a sigh of relief, that it was simply an informational message and not the feared ¡°your teacher called and asked why you aren¡¯t in school¡± talk, I quickly continued on my way towards my wardrobe. ¡°When did she even do this¡­?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but mutter aloud, as Valeria hadn¡¯t been home in close to a week, from what I could tell. Inside my wardrobe I found a basic, but clearly extremely high quality robe of some sort. It looked somewhat akin to Gi¡¯s that I knew from my previous life, often used in Judo and similar martial arts, but it was decidedly less baggy, hugging the body a lot closer and offering less for an opponent to grab onto. Slipping into it, I once again realised that I had filled out quite nicely, compared to the first day I had been in this world. My legs, arms, butt and chest were being hugged tightly by the almost silk-like texture of the robe, which was reaffirming to see. When I had ended up being isekai¡¯d into Sera¡¯s body, I had secretly been dreading that it would take me months or even years to get to a more normal state, but due to the System¡¯s cheat-like bullshit, that thankfully had not been the case. Eyeing myself in the mirror, the sight was unexpectedly pleasing. It was an unfamiliar sense of pride mixed with a strange feeling of disconnection. The reflection seemed almost alien to me, making me double-take to ensure the person in the mirror was indeed me. The sleek, grey robe only deepened this sense of alienation, marking a stark contrast to my previous life''s wardrobe choices, which were dictated by a desire to conceal rather than accentuate. Noticing a small embroidered logo on the robe, it hit me that it was an Ether Labs item. ¡®Makes sense,¡¯ I thought, considering the limited knowledge I had about the Arkion Dojo. ¡®Given it''s located on a restricted Ether Labs floor, it stands to reason most, if not all attendees, are linked to Ether Labs in one way or another. Curious if I''ll meet anyone my age there¡­? Maybe we can compare parents and see if Valeria is just insane or if that¡¯s quite normal around here.¡¯ With those thoughts swirling in my head, I left the apartment behind and headed for the special elevators that would whisk me up to the 72nd floor. It was a journey to the highest point I''d ever reached in the megabuilding, a fact that underscored just how serious I needed to take these upcoming dojo sessions. The higher floors were synonymous with luxury and exclusivity, a direct indication that every moment spent there needed to count. Valeria¡¯s emphasis on making sure Gabriel and I excelled in this environment made perfect sense in this context. Despite my numerous prior efforts, Valeria¡¯s exact role within Ether Labs had remained a mystery to me so far, but one thing was imminently apparent: Securing our spots in this training was undoubtedly no small feat on her part. In both my past life and this one, it was a universal truth that nothing valuable came without cost or compromise. As I keyed in my request for the 72nd floor, I was taken aback by how the scan to verify my access seemed to drag on for more than just a moment. ''Looks like they''ve ramped up the security for this level,'' I mused, a twinge of nerves kicking in as I waited for the elevator''s green light on my entry. A bit longer than expected, but soon enough, the elevator dinged in approval, its doors sliding shut to whisk me upwards. The journey was swift, bypassing all other stops with the efficiency of these restricted elevators, contrasting starkly with the regular ones crammed with daily hustle. When the doors slid open again, releasing their gentle whoosh into the silence, I was momentarily stunned by the sight that greeted me. Gathering myself briefly and stepping out into the hallway of the 72nd floor, my eyes were immediately captured by a massive 3D hologram of the Ether Labs logo, pulsating gently in the air ahead. The hallway itself felt like stepping into a scene from a sci-fi epic, with sleek white and grey walls and flooring crafted from an unknown material that shimmered slightly underfoot, giving off an aura of exclusivity and advanced technology. The ceiling was dotted with lighting fixtures that provided a soft, almost natural light, enhancing the futuristic look of the surroundings. As I moved forward, the walls revealed an array of terminals and displays, all embedded seamlessly into the material. These screens cycled through pharmaceutical advertisements showcasing the latest in Ether Labs'' innovations, alongside interactive maps and directories for the floor''s various shops and services. Approaching one of the terminals, I couldn''t help but feel a mix of awe and intimidation. The high-tech vibe was thoroughly completed with each terminal featuring touchless interaction, responding to gestures and movements rather than physical contact. The sheer expense and sophistication of everything around me was a stark reminder of how far removed this world was from anything I had known before. As I interacted with the terminal, trying to find my way to the dojo, the realisation of stepping into this thoroughly unknown and high-stakes environment weighed heavily on me, magnifying both my excitement for what was to come and my apprehension about whether I was truly prepared for it. ¡®Surely, they will know it¡¯s my first time at a dojo, right¡­? They won¡¯t expect completely impossible things from me?¡¯ The terminal efficiently guided me to the Arkion Dojo, interfacing directly with my optical implants to overlay a 3D arrow guiding my path, reminiscent of AR glasses from the world I once knew. "Well, here we go," I whispered under my breath, embarking down the hallway. The moment I had set foot on this floor, I had felt like a fish out of water, but that sensation intensified tenfold when I turned around a corner, leading towards one of the shops and encountered other visitors of the floor. At that time, I found myself wishing the System had a "vanish into thin air" feature for moments just like this. Ahead of me, everyone was adorned in clothing that screamed opulence and exclusivity, far beyond the simple grey dojo robe I was wearing. My outfit felt rudimentary in comparison, almost like a child''s costume at a gala event. The cybernetics and bionic enhancements on display, however, were even more intimidating. One individual caught my eye, their left arm replaced entirely by a sleek, metallic prosthetic that moved with such fluidity it seemed more alive than mechanical. The metal was inlaid with intricate patterns that glowed softly, looking more ornamental than functional, suggesting not just raw utility but also a wealth of personal expression. Another passerby sported bionic eyes that flickered with internal lights, scanning their surroundings with a precision that felt downright invasive. These ocular enhancements were framed by delicate metal filigree that traced their temples, giving them a straight-up otherworldly appearance. Watching them look around the floor and scanning the items through the shop¡¯s window was absolutely mesmerising, as the pupils seemed to dilate at incredible speeds and to impossible degrees, the function thereof a complete mystery to me. The most striking, however, was a figure with two additional, slender mechanical arms extending from their back. Each arm was very clearly a masterpiece of engineering, capable of delicate, precise movements that didn¡¯t just mimic, but elevate upon the natural motion of human limbs. The appendages were tipped with various tools, seamlessly integrating technology with the body in a display of wealth and sophistication that made my simple dojo attire seem all the more out of place. I simply watched in awe as the additional arms were continuously working on some kind of square-shaped object that was similarly attached to the individual¡¯s back. Surrounded by individuals who bore the marks of high society not just in their attire but in the very fabric of their bodies, I couldn''t help but feel dwarfed by the magnificence and sheer value of their enhancements. Each cybernetic enhancement or bionic addition I witnessed was likely worth more than our entire apartment, underscoring the chasm between our worlds. As I tiptoed down the pristine, futuristic hallway, I couldn''t help but marvel at how Valeria had managed to secure access for Gabe and me to such an exclusive level. Every step I took was measured, aiming to keep as low a profile as possible. Engaging with any of these high-society folks was the last thing on my mind; the fear of unknowingly stepping on toes, metaphorically speaking, was too real, given my lack of knowledge about Valeria''s connections. I dreaded the thought of accidentally offending someone important, potentially sparking another unexpected ordeal like the one involving Mr. Stirling. The journey to the dojo, however, was thankfully uneventful, as I wove my way past an array of cutting-edge boutiques and storefronts bustling with well-dressed patrons. Thankfully, none of them seemed to notice or care about my presence, allowing me to proceed unnoticed. Reaching the dojo felt similarly surreal as the rest of the floor so far. Standing before its entrance, the building blended seamlessly with its high-end neighbours, save for its opaque, windowless exterior. The front was instead dominated by a sleek, metal facade, illuminated by orange and blue neon lights that elegantly spelled out "Arkion." This understated marker was the only clue to the nature of the establishment behind it, setting it apart from the glass-fronted luxury stores around it. Taking a deep breath to muster my courage, I whispered to myself, "Okay, Sera, let''s do this." The flutter of nerves was palpable in my chest, not just from the anticipation but also from stepping so far out of my comfort zone. While I was the one that had required this training on one hand; actually setting foot in this high-tech, elite domain was quite another. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I approached the door with hesitant steps, half expecting some grand, intimidating barrier. Instead, I found myself facing a scanner similar to the ones guarding the restricted elevators. It scanned me quickly, and with a reassuring beep, confirmed my access; something that definitely eased my anxiety somewhat. The door slid open, disappearing into the wall with a sleek movement that felt almost too quiet, revealing the dojo''s entrance to me. Stepping through the threshold, I hurried inside, not wanting to hold up the door or stand around outside the entrance for extended periods of time and make myself look weird to passersby. Once inside, I paused for a moment, allowing myself to fully take in my new surroundings. The spaciousness of the room was the first thing that caught me off guard. It was elegantly laid out, with display cases strategically placed around the perimeter, showcasing an array of martial arts equipment and clothing. Each piece seemed to tell its own story, ranging from high-tech staffs that buzzed with silent energy to ornamental swords that gleamed under the carefully positioned lighting. Among these, pieces of clothing draped gracefully, some appearing so ancient and delicate, it felt as if a breath could turn them to dust. The room was also adorned with numerous displays of awards and trophies, each a testament to the prowess and achievements of the dojo''s members. These gleaming tokens of victory and excellence were meticulously arranged, catching the light in a way that made them shimmer invitingly. I couldn''t help but draw closer, intrigued by the inscriptions and the names, wondering about the stories and the bouts of skill they represented. After a moment of admiration, my gaze shifted towards the reception desk. Unlike the high-tech aura that permeated the rest of the room, the desk housed a peculiarly antiquated call button, almost out of place amidst the modernity. With no one immediately visible to assist me, I found myself wandering a bit longer among the articles, each artefact piquing my curiosity further. The juxtaposition of the ancient and the ultra-modern was truly fascinating, a blend of tradition and innovation that seemed to encapsulate the spirit of what I imagined a cyberpunk dojo to look like down to the tee. Eventually, my perusal led me back towards the reception desk, however. The call button, a true anachronism in this setting, drew my attention invitingly. Pausing briefly to ensure I wasn''t overlooking an alternative means of summoning assistance, I finally reached out and pressed the button, curious to see who or what would respond to my arrival at this juncture of old world discipline and new world technology. Hitting the button triggered a surprisingly elegant chime, pretty straightforward yet somehow captivating. A moment of silence hung in the air before a voice, with a distinct twang to it, floated out from a speaker I hadn''t noticed before. "Come on through to the back, Sera. Door¡¯s on your right," it directed, carrying an accent that seemed to dance somewhere between the American Midwest and Central Europe. It was a blend so unique that I was pretty sure I¡¯d never come across anything like it before, but it was decidedly far from unpleasant. Following the voice¡¯s guidance, I strolled over to the door on my right, which welcomed me in with that same hush as the entrance. Stepping through, my jaw nearly took a dive at the sight before me. The expanse of the room was mind-blowing, challenging the very notion of it being just a ¡°store¡± within a megabuilding. I was greeted by an expansive and meticulously organised training area that stretched over 300 metres in length and 200 metres in width. This wasn''t just a room; it was a carefully crafted space designed to cater to every aspect of martial training. The floor was a kaleidoscope of coloured tiles, each hue representing a different section of the training area, segmented yet seamlessly integrated into a cohesive whole. The overhead lighting was exceptional, casting the room in a bright, almost clinical white light that left no corner in shadow, making every participant''s movements sharp and easily observable. The room was divided into six distinct sections, with varying sizes to accommodate different activities. The most striking was the purple section, an enormous area that spanned nearly a third of the room and featured a different type of flooring, whose purpose I couldn¡¯t even begin to surmise, designated for what I presumed were the more advanced or group training sessions. As I stepped further into the room and my feet touched the floor, I noticed that it had a unique springiness to it¡ªa thoughtful detail meant to cushion falls and reduce impact, blending safety with comfort. Surrounding the perimeter, an impressive array of lockers, display cases, and an eclectic collection of training equipment lined the walls. Some pieces were instantly recognizable, while others were enigmatic, their purpose and application a puzzle. Each item, no matter how obscure or strange looking, seemed to have its place, contributing to the dojo''s aura of comprehensive preparation and advanced training capabilities. As my gaze shifted from the elaborate equipment and distinct sections of the dojo''s backroom, it settled on the dojo''s most captivating feature: Its participants. Due to the room''s vastness, a gathering of over two dozen individuals initially seemed sparse. However, this perception was quickly dispelled as I focused on the activities unfolding within. In the orange section of the room, two figures clad in grey robes were engaged in a sparring match that seemed to defy the laws of physics as I understood them. With every leap, they soared 2 to 3 metres into the air, their bodies moving with a grace and power that was mesmerising to behold. Each strike, forceful enough to sound like it could pulverise stone, was met with an equally vigorous defence, their feet and hands blurring in a dance of controlled violence. This was no ordinary training session. The combatants moved with a fluidity and speed that seemed lifted straight from the most shonen of animes, their actions a blur to my untrained eyes. The room''s generous dimensions became a necessity rather than a luxury, as the fighters utilised every inch of space of the orange section, their swift movements carrying them across the floor in swift, powerful bursts. It was like witnessing the high-level [Martial Arts] builds from Neon Dragons come to life, yet the reality before me dwarfed even those digital fantasies. The game, with its heavy reliance on an arsenal of firearms for combat, often regardless of build chosen, couldn''t hold a candle to the sheer physical prowess and lethal grace displayed by the combatants in the orange section. Their movements were a deadly dance, each as potentially fatal as any weapon I had seen in the playthroughs. "Whoa," slipped out under my breath, almost involuntarily, as another sequence of their high-octane combat erupted before my eyes. The sound of cybernetic limbs and human flesh colliding at breakneck speed echoed throughout the vast room. "Gets you every time, doesn''t it?" an amused voice chimed in beside me, startling me out of my entranced state. It carried a tone that felt eerily familiar, causing me to twitch in surprise. Standing just a few paces from where I had stopped in my tracks was a woman of average height, around 170cm, who looked as if she''d been there all along, observing the room just as I had been. She wore the dojo''s grey robe cinched at the waist, the top half laid over like a casual afterthought, revealing her midriff where her toned abs were displayed with an air of utter nonchalance. Her olive skin was smooth and seemed to have an inner glow that spoke of years under the disciplined regime of martial arts training. Her hair was a rich shade of brown, cut short in a style that managed to be both practical and chic, framing her face in a way that accentuated her eyes. Those eyes were a striking mix of brown and yellow, like a fierce predator''s, alert and calculating, suggesting a wealth of experience that likely far exceeded my own. The sports bra she wore was utilitarian, made for function not fashion, yet it couldn''t detract from the imposing presence she commanded. The rest of her upper body was bare, showcasing arms with muscles that were not bulging but carved, the product of perfecting technique rather than simply lifting weights. This was a body sculpted by years of dedication, not just in the dojo but in every facet of life that demanded the peak physical condition she so clearly possessed. If I had to guess her age, I''d place her somewhere between her late thirties and early forties, not just because of the subtle telltale sign of ageing, such as small folds at the corner of her eyes, but also due to the thoroughly mature aura of authority she exuded. "Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll get there too, Sera. Just follow my lead," she said, a playful edge to her voice that eased some of the tension I felt. The moment her eyes had caught mine lingering on the sculpted landscape of her abdomen, I couldn¡¯t help but avert my gaze, the warmth in my cheeks betraying my embarrassment. The timbre of her voice, now clearly identifiable as the guiding voice from before, grounded me back to the moment. "Let''s go meet the others. Try to keep up," she beckoned with a casual authority, her stride purposeful and brisk yet completely silent. I hurried after her, my curiosity piqued and a little daunted by her assured presence. She was unmistakably a mentor here, and the last thing I wanted was to start off on the wrong foot by bombarding her with questions. Respect first, that was the rule I knew to follow in such esteemed company. I shuffled in behind the instructor, whose presence seemed to fill the compact office as much as her absence had defined the spacious training room. The eyes of the three individuals inside flicked towards me, two quickly averting their gaze while the third person''s interest lingered a beat longer, their scrutiny almost palpable in the charged air of the room. Returning the gaze, I took in the varied assembly. My attention, however, snagged on the one girl that was still scrutinising me as well, whose distinct features gave me a moment''s pause. Protruding from her head were a pair of ears, distinctly vulpine in shape, with a fluidity to their movements that suggested an organic connection to her emotions or senses. They weren''t static like a costume; they were real, twitching and swivelling with an almost curious tilt as we acknowledged each other''s presence. ¡®Are those¡­ fox ears?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think to myself, as I was utterly mesmerised by the way they moved completely independently from the rest of her body. Tearing my gaze from the fox-eared girl, I quickly sized up the other two recruits. One lad stood out with his cybernetic arms on full display; the sleeves of his robe deliberately shortened to flaunt the intricate, almost artistic, engravings on the metallic limbs. His posture exuded a sense of pride, bordering on bravado, as if his arms were trophies to be admired. Beside him, a quieter presence emanated from the other boy, who seemed almost unmodified at a casual glance. But as I looked closer, faint lines, like the delicate tracery of bioluminescent tattoos, webbed across his skin, hinting at various bionic upgrades hidden beneath the surface. In that moment, the dojo''s connection to Ether Labs became all the more evident, the blend of martial discipline and cybernetic, bionic and genetic advancements embodied in the very people before me. And there I stood, in my plain-ass robe, suddenly hyper-aware of how utterly ordinary I was in comparison. ¡®Well¡­ I¡¯m not quite ordinary. I do have the System to help me out,¡¯ I thought to myself, trying to bolster my own mental fortitude. ¡®But I definitely am missing out on a lot of advantages these guys have, that¡¯s for sure¡­¡¯ ¡°Line up with the rest, Sera,¡± the instructor''s voice suddenly ripped me from my self-indulgent thoughts, jolting me to rush over towards the line and stand ram-rod straight. I wasn¡¯t exactly one for military discipline, but something in her voice made me want to fully follow her every order without question. "My name is Selene Kanis," she announced, her tone firm and expectations crystal clear. "I''m the proprietor and head instructor here. Address me as Sensei, Master, Ma¡¯am or Miss K, nothing else. And don¡¯t ever call me Mrs. I¡¯m not that old." Her instructions hung in the air, an unbreachable decree that I mentally underscored, wary of ever crossing her. "In the Arkion Dojo, your ego is checked at the door," she continued, her tone suddenly like a winter''s frost, her words imprinting a deep respect for her role and the space she commanded. "Every one of you starts from the ground here, no exceptions. I don¡¯t give a single fuck who you are, who your family is or what kind of connections you think you have that should matter in here. Cross that line where you think you''re more than the person next to you because of who you are outside these halls, and I assure you, the bones you risk aren''t worth the lesson you''ll undoubtedly fail to learn," she said, each word a definitive hammer-strike. Her warning hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder that within these walls, it was her rules, her turf, and we were to adapt or face the consequences. I felt a unanimous shiver run through the line; we understood perfectly¡ª''Sensei'' was not to be tested. The sudden shift back to a more genial tone did little to erase the imprint of Miss K¡¯s stern warning, but it did offer a semblance of comfort. Even as the timid affirmation of "Yes, Sensei" fluttered from the lips of the fox-eared girl, the rest of us scrambled to echo her, our voices uneven with the remnants of shock. Selene''s demeanour softened slightly, the harsh edge melting away as if it had never been. "That''s better," she said, the more familiar cadence of her accented voice somewhat reassuring. "Here at the Arkion Dojo, your education will span beyond simple physical conditioning. Yes, there will be a relentless regimen of exercise, but also intensive mastery in martial arts, leveraging every asset at your disposal¡ªbe it the enhancements of cybernetics, the augmentations of bionics, the medicinal gifts of genetics, or the purity of an unaltered human form. Commit to my teachings, abide by the dojo''s disciplines, and I''ll shape you into true and utter monsters." Her gaze, alight with an unexpected passion, startled me. Any preconceptions I had of a veteran instructor, weary from decades of repetition, were quickly dispelled by the vibrancy in her eyes and voice. It was as if she approached our training with the zeal of a mentor embarking on their inaugural mentorship of their very first student. "Right now you are nothing but scrap. You aren¡¯t even ingots yet, for there is too much flux, too much scale and too little carbon in your makeup," Selene proclaimed, her metaphor rich with the language of metallurgy. I recognized her references thanks to countless hours lost in video rabbit holes of woodworking, smithing and chemistry from my past life, but the analogies seemed to soar over the heads of my fellow initiates. "Before we add that carbon, however, we start at the foundations today. I must assess your capabilities, discern your baseline; without knowing what type of metal you are, I can¡¯t exactly shape you. We''ll move outside for some sparring¡ªto observe, to gauge. After today, your training will diverge tailored to your individual needs. Cybernetics, bionics, genetics¡ªeach has its path within my regimen. So, when you see a peer on a different trajectory, don''t question it. Trust in the program I assign to you; they''re crafted with a clear purpose in mind, not merely on a whim, understand?" A chorus of ¡°Yes, Sensei¡± followed, all of us having instinctively decided to follow the fox-eared girl¡¯s form of address for this lesson, putting an approving smile on Miss K¡¯s face. "Excellent. Time to start¡ªoutside," she said with zest, her vitality surging as she leaped over the desk with the grace of a trained athlete, reaching the door in a heartbeat. Her face alight with a mischievous, smug triumph, like a teenager having won at a race that nobody else knew they were a part of, she swung open the door, ushering us once more into the expansive training hall¡­ Chapter 53 - Bloodied Stepping outside into the expansive training hall again, I was once again struck by how utterly gigantic it was, considering the likely real-estate prices for a floor this high up in the megabuilding. ¡®Ether Labs is probably footing the bill for most of it,¡¯ I realised after thinking about it for a second. Every single person inside had to have some kind of connection to Ether Labs to be here, considering it was on a restricted floor, so it made sense that the dojo had deep ties with the corporation as well. ¡®In return, Miss K is training their people to be ¡°monsters¡±, as she said. Not a bad deal for either party, I guess¡­¡¯ We quickly assembled by the blue-coloured section, just a stone''s throw from the office we''d just exited, under Miss K''s direction. "Now, before we dive in, let''s cover the ground rules of the dojo," Selene''s voice took on an official cadence, slightly accelerating as if she was reciting a well-memorised speech. "Rule number one¡ªand this is beyond critical¡ªdo not go past your assigned colour zone on the floor; you all begin at blue. Advancements will come with time, granting you more access. But until I specifically clear you to move on to higher ranks, crossing into an unauthorised colour zone is absolutely and without exception, off-limits for your own safety and that of others. Is that clear?" A unanimous "Yes, Sensei" echoed through the group, but it was the boy with cybernetic arms whose reaction caught my eye¡ªhis complexion had turned ghostly, hinting at the grave seriousness of Miss K''s rule. His alarmed look served as a potent reminder to myself: Avoid stepping on unassigned coloured tiles at all costs. The consequences, it seemed, stretched far beyond a mere scolding. "Next up, absolutely no kill shots. While Ether Labs has graciously provided some protective measures, they''re merely last resorts, not invincibility shields. They can''t prevent the consequences of a truly lethal blow aimed to kill," Selene emphasised sternly, her voice turning icy as she did so and fixing us with a sharp, intense gaze. "Should I sense any of you aiming to inflict even a whiff of fatal harm on a fellow student, I''ll personally ensure you regret it¡ªpermanently expelled, after I''ve broken every bone in your body myself. Do you understand me?" The room fell into a heavy silence at her words, thanks to the gravity and intensity of her warning. We scrambled to hastily affirm with another "Yes, Sensei," the grim potential outcomes making her earlier admonition all the more terrifying. Selene''s mood lightened, her voice shifting back to its regular, softer tone, laced with an undercurrent of excitement. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, a stark contrast to the severity of her previous warnings. "Understandably, injuries are part and parcel of our training here¡ªbroken bones, bruises, and maybe some mild to severe internal bleeding are just part of the course. But let''s make one thing crystal clear: Taking another student''s life is absolutely out of bounds; be it ¡°accidental¡± or not. We''re all under the Ether Labs umbrella here. Remember, you''re being trained to be valuable assets, not liabilities." She began to stroll in front of our line, eyeing each of us closely as if assessing our potential or perhaps our understanding of her words. Then, with a serious tone in her voice she stated plainly, "Last rule before we dive in: No sex." The sudden introduction of the no-intimacy rule completely took me by surprise, sending me into a coughing fit as I choked on my own spit, struggling to process the information. I wasn¡¯t alone in my shock; the girl with fox ears let out a surprised, albeit very subdued, yelp, while the guy with bionic enhancements was also caught off guard, coughing just as I was. Even the kid decked out in cybernetics, who up until now seemed to have an insider¡¯s grasp of dojo protocols, turned a deep shade of red, his eyes fixed on the floor. Selene, unfazed by our collective reactions, quickly cleared up any confusion. "Let me be clear: I¡¯m not imposing a complete ban on your sex lives. Honestly, what you do in your personal time is your business, and I¡¯m not here to police that whatsoever," she clarified, effortlessly rising above the commotion we''d caused. "But given that you¡¯re going to be some of the most fit and best-conditioned individuals in the city once I¡¯m done with you, and considering your connections to Ether Labs, it falls on me to prevent any potential issues. "The quickest way for things to spiral out of control is through unchecked emotions. Love, jealousy, envy¡ªnothing leads faster to ''accidental'' conflicts and injuries than those, which I will not tolerate here. If you wanna fuck someone from your training group, just let me know. I¡¯ll reassign one of you to a different group, clearing the way for any and all personal explorations, without disrupting the dojo¡¯s harmony. ¡°I¡¯m not one to stand in the way of young love, after all,¡± she added with a teasing wink in our direction. ¡°I can also offer some guidance and tips, if you want!¡± The embarrassment caught me severely off guard, ''Seriously, I''m practically hitting thirty, why am I getting fucking flustered over this shit?!'' My romantic experiences, or the lack thereof, notwithstanding, you''d think my more mature mind would offer some immunity against such adolescent reactions. Alas, my body begged to differ, leaving me to recuperate from my coughing ordeal only to find my cheeks aflame with a deep blush. Miss K''s delight in our discomfort was unmistakable, her grin wide as she allowed the awkwardness to stew a bit longer, then graciously moved on. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s kick off with seeing what you¡¯ve got,¡± she pivoted back to the blue section of the room, effortlessly summoning two red markers onto the floor with a flick of her hand. ¡°You''ll start off three metres apart, going head-to-head, aiming to disable your opponent as effectively as possible¡ªminus the serious injuries. It doesn¡¯t matter if it''s a kick, a punch, a grapple, or a choke, show me your go-to moves. I''m keen on understanding your strengths and instinctive strategies.¡± Turning to us, she distributed small, slate-blue discs, ¡°Use these as your safety nets. Attach them to your outfits like so.¡± Demonstrating on her own attire, she snapped the disc onto her chest, twisting it until her robe transitioned to a vivid blue, seamlessly blending as if it had been that colour from the very start. ¡°Pretty straightforward, right? Make sure your robe''s colour is correctly set before any spar. Nobody spars in a grey robe, ever. Got it?¡± After we all secured the buttons to our robes, it dawned on me that these were some sophisticated pieces of tech from Ether Labs, tailored for training. The specifics of their operation were still shrouded in mystery to me, though. ¡°These devices, once activated, make your robes into a kind of force buffer, absorbing impacts to shield your vital organs from any damage that exceeds a certain threshold. But let''s be crystal clear about this again: Severe injuries, or worse, are still on the table if you ignore your physical limits, or somebody actively tries to inflict them. While I''ll be keeping a watchful eye during your sessions to prevent catastrophes, I can''t be there at all times, watching over your every move. If you''re at your breaking point, it''s crucial to acknowledge it. Bravado won''t earn you any extra points here.¡± Selene, tapping her temple for emphasis, added, ¡°Just remember, your noggin doesn''t get the luxury of that fancy robe protection. So, keep those hands up and avoid taking a nap on the floor, got it?¡± As she wrapped up the intro to our session, a wave of nerves hit me. Fighting had never been my forte back in my previous life, and it''s not like I had any System perks to bail me out here either. I wasn¡¯t exactly what you''d call a fan of pain, yet it looked like these initial training rounds were going to be quite the ordeal. ¡®But that''s exactly why I signed up for this, right¡­?¡¯ I reasoned with myself, scavenging for a drop of bravery. ¡®To beef up my self-defence game and ensure I can hold my own in this cutthroat world. A little pain now beats meeting my maker before I''ve had a chance to really live in this world...¡¯ "Alright, gents, you''re up first since we''ve got a neat split by gender for our opening round," Miss K announced, guiding the two boys toward the designated spots on the floor. "Just toss out the names you wanna go by. No need for formalities here; we''re all about what you can do, not who you claim to be." With a mix of youthful caution and bravado, the boys moved up to their marks¡ªa scene as old as time, yet always fresh with anticipation. The cyber-armed boy stepped up first, a trace of pride in his voice as he introduced himself, "I''m Jin. Pleasure to meet all of you. Let''s give it our all, yeah?" Jin''s confidence and evident familiarity with the dojo''s dynamics had me bracing for a touch of arrogance, probably born from his connections that paved his way here. Yet, his greeting was anything but, being more subdued and polite. I couldn''t help but be a bit taken aback. ''Well, he''s more courteous than I expected,'' I mused internally, sizing him up, eager to pick up any tactics or fighting styles I might be able to use when my turn came around. Then came the boy marked by the bionic veins pulsing rhythmically beneath his skin, a sight made all the more stark against his blue robe. He introduced himself with a hesitant voice that barely carried across the room, "I... Yes... Hi. My name is Tom... umm... Thompson. But Tom works just fine." I couldn''t help but feel a pang of empathy. ''Been there, done that,'' I mused internally. I''d never been a fan of the spotlight during introductions, and Tom''s faltering made me think back to my own share of awkward moments that I¡¯d much rather forget in their entirety. Miss K, her enthusiasm palpable, reclaimed our attention. "Alright then! You two set?" Her gaze swept over them, ensuring she caught a nod or a verbal ''yes'' from each before she initiated the countdown. "Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­ Begin!" Her hands came together in a clap that echoed far louder than expected, making us all jump. And just like that, she kicked off the inaugural round of what she called our ''initial capability assessment''. The initial standoff between Jin and Tom was like watching a high-stakes dance, each sizing the other up with deliberate circling, their footwork mirroring each other¡¯s almost perfectly. Jin, with his cybernetically enhanced arms, exuded an air of cautious confidence, each movement deliberate and powered with a mechanical precision that seemed almost too robust for mere training. His probing attacks were forthright, punches slicing through the air with a weight that hinted at the metallic sinews beneath his skin, the sound of his movements slicing through the air a clear indicator of his aggressive strategy. Tom, in contrast, was a lot more fluid and graceful, his bionic enhancements imbuing him with an agility that belied his slightly more bulky build, allowed him to dance around Jin''s powerful strikes more easily. The blue hues pulsing through his body seemed to give him an enhanced awareness of his own space and that of his opponent''s; so fast and fluid were his responses. His counterattacks were swift, a series of dodges and weaves that leveraged his enhanced speed to land quick jabs that, while not as forcefully powered as Jin''s, were precise and tactically placed. Their combat, while lacking the polish of seasoned fighters, was a fascinating display of raw potential, and frankly, quite terrifying to witness. ¡®There is no way I¡¯d stand a chance against either of them! I hope that fox-ear girl over here isn¡¯t as much of a monster as they are, or I¡¯ll get my ass beat all day¡­¡¯ Neither was a master, but their respective augmentations did a lot to bridge the gap between young novice and more experienced adept, granting their movements an extra layer of threat and power that one wouldn¡¯t expect from boys their age. Jin''s assaults were like hammer blows, each one meant to overwhelm and overpower, while Tom''s strategy was evasion and quick, stinging counters, aiming to exploit openings rather than bulldoze through defences. As the fight progressed, Jin''s confidence surged with each exchange, his blows gaining a sharper edge as he sought to dominate the spar. Despite Tom''s nimble efforts to dodge and weave, Jin''s relentless advance began to tip the scales. It wasn''t until Tom started integrating kicks into his repertoire that the tide showed signs of shifting. His well-placed kicks, leveraging the bionic enhancements threaded through his legs to accelerate his reactions, began to stall Jin''s forward momentum, forcing the cybernetically armed teenager to reassess his approach. With a mix of swift roundhouses and strategic sidekicks, Tom created the necessary distance between them, momentarily halting Jin''s bullish attacks. With a clear preference for boxing to maximise the use of his cybernetic arms, Jin found himself at a slight disadvantage, unable to close the gap without receiving a well-timed kick for his troubles. The dynamic of their battle shifted with this addition, the rhythm punctuated by the thud of kicks against arms and the occasional connection with flesh. As their breathing grew more ragged and their groans of pain more vocal, the pace of the combat escalated as frustration began to etch itself into Jin''s strategy. No longer content with the standoffish exchange, Jin finally decided to breach the distance with a leap of sheer determination, tackling Tom to the ground in a move that was more brawl than anything resembling martial arts. The ground immediately turned into their new battlefield, with Jin attempting to assert his dominance through a flurry of punches aimed downwards, each strike growing more and more desperate to end the fight on his terms, before he ran out of steam. Tom, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tactics, struggled beneath Jin''s weight, trying to squirm away from or deflect the punishing blows that rained on him again and again. The area around them became coloured in a different hue bit by bit, stained with the blood from both fighters as they grappled for supremacy. Tom''s face ended up bearing the brunt of Jin''s aggression, blood smearing his features as he fought valiantly to escape the unfavourable position, while Jin¡¯s own face ended up with a couple of nasty cuts as well. ¡°Enough! Break it up!¡± Selene''s command resonated through the room, bringing the heated clash to an abrupt halt. Jin and Tom, their bodies still buzzing with the fight''s leftover energy, separated, throwing each other wary glances that betrayed the rush of battle still lingering in their systems. Despite their readiness to continue, obedience to Selene''s directive was immediate, showcasing their respect for her authority. It was immediately apparent, however, that Tom¡¯s metabolism was a lot faster than Jin¡¯s as his breathing returned to a more normal rhythm very quickly. ¡°Jin takes this round, though it was a close call,¡± Selene announced, effectively putting an end to the speculation of who had the upper hand. Her assessment was stark, highlighting the crucial moments of the duel. ¡°Tom, had this been a genuine confrontation, Jin''s relentless focus on your head would have been undoubtedly fatal. The moment you both hit the ground and you failed to get out quickly, it was his game. Remember, awareness and evasion are just as critical as landing a hit. You need to be more aware of what your enemy¡¯s mental state is looking like. If you had paid more attention, you could have seen his frustration early and avoided getting grappled.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Her words, firm yet instructive, underscored the lesson to be learned from the encounter. In the world they were training for, the line between victory and defeat was thin, defined by quick decisions and even quicker reflexes. Selene¡¯s feedback was not just a judgement but a roadmap for improvement. To Jin, she offered, ¡°Smart move taking him down to counter his kicks. However, your dependence on those cybernetic arms is far too high. They''re meant to enhance your capabilities, not be your sole entire focus. Don¡¯t forget the rest of your body; ignoring your potential to kick only makes you an easier target.¡± She then shifted her attention to Tom, noting, ¡°Your kicks were effective, but they should have been your opening move. There¡¯s no merit in playing into your opponent''s hands. Initiating with your kicks could have kept Jin at bay, allowing you to leverage your quicker recovery to wear him down. We¡¯ll work on ground escape techniques, ensuring you won¡¯t find yourself trapped again as easily in the future.¡± Finally, addressing them collectively with a nod towards the supply area near the door that led to her office, she advised, ¡°Both of you, head over and apply some spray bandages from the bench. Patch up. I¡¯m setting up the next round with the girls. Great effort from you both; it was an enlightening start to our assessments.¡± Her feedback, while direct, carried a tone of genuine guidance, aiming not just to critique but to elevate their skills. Much to my elation and surprise, I also received a double-notification from the System as she finished up her rundown. [System]: [Martial Arts] Skill unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. I had to admit that the balance between acknowledging their strengths and highlighting areas for growth set a constructive path forward, all while maintaining an atmosphere of rigorous training and mutual respect. ¡®This is the perfect way to deal with teenagers, I¡¯d imagine¡­ She really is a professional at this.¡¯ I didn¡¯t have much time to mull over Miss K¡¯s teaching prowess, nor my newly gained [Skill] however, as no sooner had Jin and Tom limped off than it was our turn in the spotlight. The dojo floor had already cleared away the evidence of their bout, reverting back to its pristine state, waiting for the next set of contenders. Miss K beckoned me and the girl with fox ears to the now-spotless arena. "Your turn now. Same deal as before: Let''s get introductions out of the way, then hold for my signal. You start off," Miss K directed, her finger pointing squarely at me. With a small gulp of anticipation, I managed to announce myself with a modicum of composure, "I''m Sera. Nice to meet you all. Let¡¯s give it our all," I added, accompanying my words with a bow reminiscent of those I had seen in countless animes and martial arts demonstrations. It was a simple gesture, one that I hoped conveyed respect without drawing too much attention my way. Following my introduction, the fox-eared girl stepped forward with a mix of eagerness and discernible nerves rattling through her voice. "I¡­ I''m Kenzie! I¡¯ll beat you up!" she blurted out, her enthusiasm bubbling over despite a stumble in her words. She flashed a quick, albeit nervous, smile that seemed to momentarily brighten the atmosphere around us. A smile split my face at her words. I was definitely taken aback by the introduction for sure, but her nervous smile made it seem more like a quirky style of bravado than in any real, rude or threatening way. Taking the opportunity to fully appraise her, trying to discern if there was anything I could learn about her before our match, I noticed details I hadn''t picked up on before. Kenzie''s hair, a rich copper that matched her uniquely fluffy fox ears, shimmered subtly under the dojo''s bright lights. Her eyes, too, held a deep copper hue and the expected, characteristic vertical slit pupils that one would expect from a fox, giving her a coherent vulpine appearance that was both intriguing and, admittedly, quite captivating; I hadn¡¯t exactly seen any real fox-girls in my life before, after all. She stood slightly shorter than me, her stature at about 152cm¡ªa detail I logged mentally, considering my own height of 157cm, which I had recently reclaimed after my period of recuperation. Despite her relatively small frame, it was clear where her strengths could lie. Her arms, though slender, didn''t command much attention, but her legs told a different story. They appeared robust and well-muscled, indicative of considerable power and agility. This observation alone marked her as potentially formidable, especially in a skirmish where agility and leg strength could easily turn the tide. Kenzie''s hair was meticulously gathered into a tight knot atop her head, a practical choice for minimising distractions and hazards during combat. It mirrored my own decision to confine my hair into a bun, a silent acknowledgment between us of the practicalities of fighting. Taking a deep breath, I locked my focus onto Kenzie, her copper eyes a clear indicator of where her attention was directed¡ªme. ''Keep an eye on those powerful legs, anticipate a swift move, and if possible, close the distance,'' I strategized, reminding myself to potentially mirror Jin''s tactic of initiating a ground tussle. My advantage might lie in the raw strength afforded by my enhanced Body Attribute, a fact I was banking on in the face of my opponent''s apparent agility. Miss K''s voice sliced through my whirlwind of thoughts. "Three... Two... One... Start!" Her hands clapped together, a sound I was now braced for, allowing me to maintain my focus without the flinch that had caught me off guard before. Instinctively, I raised my arms, adopting what I hoped was a decent defensive posture reminiscent of the boxers I''d watched in countless videos from my previous life. My stance was an attempt at readiness, though I was acutely aware of the vast gap between mere imitation and true skill. ¡®Protect your head, whatever the cost,¡¯ was my mantra that I paid the most attention to. The moment I settled into a defensive stance, however, I felt an almost instinctual shift in my posture, subtly altering my position to offer a more stable base for quick counter-moves. My feet, too, seemed to know exactly where to place themselves, mimicking the cautious dance of circling that prefaced our confrontation, as if choreographed by unseen forces. This unexpected assistance sparked a realisation; the System was subtly at play here, guiding me through the foundational manoeuvres derived from my accumulated attributes in Reflex and Body. Even more, I could sense an undercurrent of additional finesse as well, likely borrowed from my [Knives] Skill, weaving its way into my movements. The muscle memory I was tapping into felt like a blend of all of these, providing me with a frankenstein-like composite foundation I hadn''t anticipated. The System, it turned out, was quite adaptive and clever, making the most of what it could offer me, even if the applications weren''t always perfectly aligned. While [Knives] didn''t directly apply since I was unarmed, the foundational footwork and stances it taught were apparently not confined to fighting with knives exclusively at all. My body instinctively adopted the optimal postures, adapting those movements to this unarmed context in a surprisingly useful way. Moreover, my enhanced Reflex and Body attributes subtly included a basic primer on hand-to-hand combat, or at least, on the fundamentals of self-defence without weapons. This was an aspect I hadn''t explicitly noticed during the attributes'' enhancement process, as there was no distinct memory of acquiring such knowledge directly from the upgrades. Yet, as I found myself relying on these instincts in the heat of the moment, it became clear that these improvements were not all just physical in nature. They had somehow enriched my innate understanding of combat, drawing from the very essence of the Attributes rather than any specific [Skill] or prior knowledge I possessed. Equipped with a newfound confidence in my own stance and movement, courtesy of the System, I felt significantly more prepared to face Kenzie than before. Her own stance was rather unconventional, resembling more of a predator poised to leap than a traditional fighter''s pose. Her fox ears, sharply angled to track my every motion, added an unnerving precision to her appearance. As we circled each other, the tension built, stretching the seconds into what felt like an eternity. Kenzie''s speed and agility was undeniable, however, her movements a blur as she abruptly aimed a series of swift kicks in my direction after a quick dash forward to get in range. Each one felt like it could easily knock the wind out of me if it connected, forcing me to rely heavily on the dodging and deflecting techniques instilled by my newly discovered muscle memory. She followed up by trying to close the gap between us, but I threw a series of amateurish kicks her way that were altered just enough by the System¡¯s muscle memory to look halfway proficient. They worked, as they managed to keep Kenzie at bay. Our exchange continued as a dynamic dance of push and pull. Each time Kenzie tried to close the gap, aiming to exploit what she might''ve perceived as a weakness in my defence, I countered with a strategic retreat, creating space to launch my own offensive¡ªmainly a series of controlled kicks aimed at halting her advance. It baffled me why she insisted on narrowing the distance between us; her legwork was formidable and could easily dominate from afar. Yet, her persistent attempts to engage at close quarters only fueled my resolve to keep her at bay, following Miss K''s advice to Tom, not to play into my opponent''s game plan. Every once in a while, she would manage to get just close enough for me to take a swing at her, immediately attempting to make her back off, whenever she managed to break past my kicks. This allowed me to leverage some of the strength I hadn''t fully realised I possessed until now. My punches and kicks, though fewer than her rapid ones, carried a surprising weight, a direct benefit from the System''s enhancements to my Body Attribute, giving each strike a potential to shift the balance in my favour, if ever so slightly. The fight progressed with a series of traded blows that tested both our limits. A particularly close call came when Kenzie managed a feint that nearly allowed her to breach my guard, her agility shining through as she darted to one side and aimed a swift kick at my midsection. I managed to barely sidestep it, feeling the air shift with the force of her kick, only to be greeted face-to-face with her, as she had taken the opportunity to dash into direct contact with me. Scrambling backward, determined not to let Kenzie close the distance, I launched a desperate punch, hoping to create some breathing room. It was a wild swing, fueled more by instinct than technique, aiming to make her reconsider her approach. As my fist sailed through the air, I saw Kenzie''s hands darting towards my face, a motion that sent alarm bells ringing in my head. In a split-second decision, I jerked my head back, narrowly avoiding her strike, but not without consequence. I felt the sting of her nails, sharp as claws, grazing my neck and chest, leaving behind lines of pain and the start of what would soon be a heavy bleed. My hastily thrown punch found its mark at the same time, however, landing with a thud that was both satisfying and horrifying, as I felt something beneath my fist compress with an unsettling ease. We both stumbled back, Kenzie landing on the floor, clutching her face, and I, retreating to assess the damage she had inflicted. Blood was already starting to mat my skin, dripping from slashes that were thankfully superficial; she hadn''t hit anything vital. The realisation did little to comfort me, though, as I grappled with the immediate pain and the shock of how quickly things had escalated. "Damn, that really fucking hurts," I muttered under my breath, teeth gritted against the sharp ache. The adrenaline pumping through my veins did little to dull the sensation, serving as a harsh reminder of the realities of physical, close-up confrontation. As Kenzie sprung back to her feet, rage contorting her features, I found myself fixated on the wound over her eye, where my clumsy counter strike had left its mark. The sight of her, fueled by anger and pain, was a stark contrast to the timid introduction we had exchanged just moments ago. Inside, I was screaming for intervention, hoping Miss K would deem our escalating injuries severe enough to call a halt to this madness, as they already far outdid anything I considered ¡°reasonable¡± for simple martial arts training, but no such relief came. Instead, Kenzie charged once more, her body coiled like a spring, targeting my abdomen with a dive that mirrored Jin''s previous tactic. I had barely enough time to process her approach before instinct took over. Recalling Jin''s match, I attempted to replicate his defensive move, my legs carrying me backward in a desperate bid for distance. For a moment, I revelled in the anticipation of successfully evading her attack, my foot cocked back for a counter. That fleeting sense of accomplishment evaporated almost immediately, however, as dread filled me, realising the imminent collision of our strategies. Horror gripped me as I watched Kenzie''s head hurtle toward the force of my boot. My efforts to lessen the kick''s impact were futile; the sickening sound of contact echoed in my ears, blood erupting from her as she was flung back, lifeless upon the ground. The dread of seeing a [Murder] Skill notification flashed through my mind, sending me into a panic. "Oh shit! Oh fuck...! Kenzie?! I¡¯m so, so sorry!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with terror as I rushed to her side to check on her. ¡°Kenzie are¡ª¡± But, in a twist that defied my worst fears, Kenzie sprang up abruptly, her visage a mask of blood from her injuries, fury animating her every move. Caught off-guard, I had no time to dodge as she launched herself at me, her fingers, sharp as talons, slashing across my neck. I cried out in pain, struggling to escape her relentless assault, feeling the sting of her razor-sharp nails drawing more and more blood as she utterly tore up both my face and neck, the fear of causing irreversible harm clashing with the need to defend myself. Instinctively, my left arm shot up, shielding my face while my other fist, fueled by desperation, rocketed towards her midsection. ¡®I just need to get her to back off again,¡¯ I frantically thought, wary of aiming for her head again, fearing the consequences. The impact was immediate and forceful; her relentless attack ceased as she collapsed, coughing and desperately gasping for air. I realised then I must''ve struck a critical spot. ¡°Enough!¡± The command from Miss K pierced the chaos, a welcome reprieve as pain seared through my cuts. ¡°Good grief, you two¡­¡± she exhaled, approaching us. ¡°I appreciate the effort, but this was way overkill. Really, there''s no need to mangle each other like that to prove a point¡­¡± Her under-breath comment, ¡°girls are always so fierce at this age, huh?¡± barely reached me before she raised her voice again, addressing the room. ¡°I¡¯m calling this one a draw," Miss K announced, capturing our full attention. "Sera, that kick could''ve immediately won it for you, but rushing in to check on Kenzie, driven entirely by sympathy, then hesitating to follow through afterwards? That hesitation could be fatal in a real confrontation. Kenzie would''ve murdered you if this were for real.¡± Addressing Kenzie, she advised, ¡°You¡¯ve got an interesting fight style, but don''t let those claws be your only trick. You¡¯re neglecting your greatest asset¡ªthose scarily powerful legs. We¡¯re gonna refine those kicks, blend them into your overall strategy. It¡¯s fine to have a preference for what makes you unique, much like Jin with his arms, but don¡¯t lose sight of your other strong points, Kenzie.¡± Then, her gaze shifted to me. ¡°Sera, your fighting technique is... peculiar. There''s a strangely refined amount of finesse there, shadowed by a severe lack of experience. It''s hard to pin down, but it''s clear we have plenty to work on. You¡¯re versatile, yet without a defining strength. We''ll uncover your niche. And whatever workout regime you''re on, keep at it. For someone without enhancements, you''re very impressive.¡± With a reassuring thumbs-up, she underscored her point, as if to encourage me further to keep at it, while contrasting me with my genetically, cybernetically, and bionically enhanced peers. ¡°Yes, Sensei,¡± I managed, my voice slightly strained as I performed a respectful bow, all the while trying to mentally distance myself from the stinging pain that marked my face and neck. The thought of enduring a prolonged recovery briefly daunted me until the realisation hit¡ªmy access to the Rest Function meant I didn¡¯t have to fret over long-term scarring whatsoever. ¡°Now, both of you, go patch yourselves up. Kenzie, there¡¯s a paste on the bench for you; apply it carefully on your nose and around your eye, but don¡¯t overdo it¡ªthat stuff costs a ton of creds. Sera, the green ointment¡¯s for you; it¡¯s great for preventing scars,¡± Miss K directed, waving us off the combat area. Sidestepping past Jin and Tom, I caught their attempts to look anywhere but at us, their expressions a mix of shock and perhaps a new-found respect. ''Perhaps they''ve never seen a fight get this gritty; this real,'' I pondered, allowing a small, pained grin to surface despite the discomfort. ¡®Or maybe they just didn¡¯t expect us girls to go all out, huh?¡¯ "Good match, Sera," Kenzie¡¯s voice suddenly perked up beside me, her tone brimming with both respect and a hint of admonition. "But next time, don¡¯t pull your punches! We¡¯re here to learn, to push our limits. Trust me, I can handle it!¡± Grinning through the pain, the odd mix of anger and gratitude in Kenzie''s tone added an unexpected layer to our interaction. "Yeah, you too, Kenzie," I managed, attempting a smile that only reminded me of the cuts stinging on my face. "Yikes, those claws of yours are no joke, huh?" Kenzie''s response, her face a blend of injuries and a playful pout, was dripping with sarcasm, "Oops, my bad! Wasn''t exactly aiming to decorate your face after that delightful kick of yours. I''ll remember to be gentler next time, especially after getting a punch that almost took out an eye." The sarcasm, thick and tangible, sparked an involuntary laugh from me. It was the kind of banter I lived for; plus, the adrenaline drop from the fight was making everything oddly hilarious. Joining in the laughter, Kenzie and I found some comfort in our shared amusement amidst applying our respective treatments. The banter, coated in a layer of pain and sarcasm, somehow made the ordeal of patching ourselves up feel less daunting, creating an unexpected moment of bonding over shared battle scars. Mulling over the unexpected boon of some free [First-Aid] experience, I couldn''t help but secretly smirk to myself. ''Snagging some of those supplies could come in handy,'' I mused, pondering where I might procure them for personal use. ''Must be an Ether Labs shop around here. But, can I even make purchases there? Do they require some sort of permit given the exclusivity of this floor¡­?'' As we tidied up and ambled back to the blue zone, we noticed Tom and Jin already in position within the "ring", ready at their starting marks. "Okay, gear up for four more rounds, let''s see what you''ve picked up. Hope you all came packed with enough stamina, because we''re not wrapping up until each of you has faced off in all five bouts! We¡¯ll keep the same matchups for today, but next time around, we¡¯ll switch it up, so pay attention to everyone¡¯s fights!" Miss K declared, her enthusiasm mirrored by a collective sigh from both Kenzie and me. Had we realised the sheer marathon ahead, perhaps the two of us wouldn''t have thrown everything into the initial fight... Notice of delay until April 8th (1 week) Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! Unfortunately with another sad news, as I need to announce another delay on upcoming chapters for around a week. Things have been extremely hectic IRL for a few months now and it''s just a bit too much for me to handle, while also writing around 16k words/week for both of the novels. The next chapter will release on Monday, April 8th. I sincerely apologise for this renewed delay on new releases; I know it''s getting annoying. I''m probably even more annoyed at this than you are, trust me! :(
What''s going on? End of February, my work decided we didn''t need that many people in the IT department, so we lost a total of two members (combined with the one from December), so it''s been a lot more stressful ever since. I''ve essentially lost a good 10-20% of my writing time to more issues at work that need resolving. Additionally, with my recent sickness, I have lost all of the backlog chapters that I had prepared, in order to tide over everyone as much as possible; meaning that I''ve essentially been writing the chapters for the patreons the day they''re supposed to release. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Often times, I''d only finish the chapters MINUTES before the deadline, to the point I''ve had to manually upload them multiple times, as Patreon doesn''t allow scheduling of drafts less than 5 minutes in advance (!!!) What''s the plan? For now, I''ll have to delay releases for this week in specific, as I''m starting to feel a major burnout coming my way, if I continue at the current pace with work AND writing. That doesn''t mean I won''t write anything, but rather, I''m not going to force myself to finish chapters in a single day for this week; moreso let the words flow when they want to, to get a bit of a breather. It won''t be a real break, which I definitely still do need, but I have no idea when I''ll be taking that one. How to prevent this in the future? I will be taking a 1-week release hiatus at some stage in the near-ish future, likely in the next 1-2 months, in order to build up a backlog again. That way, for sickness or work-related reasons, I can continue releasing chapters at the usual schedule, even if things aren''t going too well for me IRL. While this isn''t a permanent solution by any means, it will help tide things over for a couple of months, barring any unforseen circumstances. Taking a 1-week hiatus every couple of months might have to become more of a common thing for me going forward, but we''ll see about that when the time comes.
Thank you all SO much for the continued, extremely generous and kind support on all of my novels. It''s truly a humbling and extremely enjoyable experience to provide these stories for all of you and I can''t wait to get into some of the next chapters with all y''all. That said, I''ll be seeing you guys next week. Thank you for your patience! Chapter 54 - Mastery Dragging ourselves back to the bench after the third round, Kenzie and I were practically on our last legs. Miss K had been very clear that dialling back the intensity "just to save energy" was not going to be allowed, so we''d been unleashing everything we had, round after round. My face and neck bore the brunt of it, covered in countless slashes that had oozed blood at various points. Miraculously, I dodged any life-altering injuries to vital areas like my eyes or throat, but every inch of me screamed in protest. Kenzie wasn''t faring much better; my counterattacks had left her with a fractured nose, a dislocated jaw¡ªwhich had been fixed by Miss K already¡ª, and multiple fractures around her right eye. To say we were battered would hardly cover it. Sitting there, slathering on more Ether Labs miracle cream onto my scratched-up neck and the slice marks crisscrossing my face, I couldn''t help but mumble, "I literally can''t feel my face right now." Kenzie immediately shot back with a mix of sarcasm and genuine annoyance, "Oh really? At least one of us still looks semi-human. Did you see me this morning? I was the very picture of cuteness! What am I supposed to tell any cute guys that stop by? ''Oh, sorry for looking like I just went ten rounds with a blender, but Sera here doesn''t know the meaning of ''light sparring''?!" Rolling my eyes, I retorted, "Well, maybe if you didn''t insist on trying to use your face to try and break my foot, you''d still be ''cute''. You''re the one who boasted about how tough you were. Besides, dodging is a thing, you know? No reason to just take it, time and time again." The last round had ended much like the first one, with Kenzie trying to forcibly close the distance between us, only to be greeted face-first by my boot. Miss K had commented on how Kenzie seemed very impatient as a fighter, when she had given me some 1-on-1 pointers to use against the girl. As such, much of my game plan consisted of trying not to bleed out too much before she lost her cool, which opened her up to some serious punishments whenever she overextended herself. Miss K''s insights were bang-on, not just about Kenzie''s approach but mine as well. Turns out, Kenzie got a few pro tips against my fighting style too, and she used them to turn up the heat in the recent rounds. I couldn''t pin down exactly what Sensei whispered in her ear, but it was effective. Suddenly, I had found myself on the receiving end of what felt like a barrage of sledgehammers, courtesy of Kenzie''s killer legs, every time I let her dictate the pace. To get away from her relentless kicks, I found myself choosing to face the wrath of her claws¡ªa risky play, but it beat getting my legs turned into pulp. With every round that passed, I was gambling, opting for quick, painful exchanges with her claws over being systematically dismantled by her powerful kicks. It was a fine line I was walking, trading off immediate damage for the chance to fight another round. I knew if I let her keep landing those leg shots, I''d barely be able to stand, let alone throw punches, by the time we hit the final round. It was a brutal calculus, deciding which hits to take and which to avoid, but it was the game that we were inevitably playing in Miss K''s training session. To say that the training was worthwhile, however, would be a similarly massive understatement. Pulling up the condensed System Notifications from the last three bouts, I couldn¡¯t help but once again be flabbergasted by the incredible speed of experience acquisition I was experiencing.
[System]: 800xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: [Martial Arts] has reached Level 1. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: Intuition has reached 4.
Right before the end of the last round, I had gotten the first knowledge download for [Martial Arts], a victory that was nearly overshadowed by Kenzie''s razor-sharp focus¡ªliterally. The sudden flood of knowledge had thrown me off my game, sending me teetering on the edge of a disaster. Kenzie''s claws had been a hair''s breadth from turning my right eye into mincemeat¡ªor whatever the equivalent was for the cybernetic ones that Sera¡¯s body had come with by default. It was only thanks to Miss K''s timely intervention, noticing the sudden shift in my stance, that had provided me with the breather I needed to complete the download knowledge and regain my focus. Her sharp eyes had caught the telltale signs of the knowledge download''s disorienting effect immediately, which caused her to pause the bout to check on me. Thanks to her, I bounced back, managing to eke out a win in a round that was as close to the wire as they come. ¡®Why am I getting so much experience, though¡­?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but ask myself, as I wasn¡¯t just absolutely flying through the [Skill] levels, but even the corresponding Attributes were gaining experience at a more rapid pace than I was used to. With Intuition reaching rank 4, I now had all three governing Attributes of [Martial Arts] at the same level, meaning that I would be able to get it up as high as Level 4 without having to invest any time specifically grinding any Attributes. [Martial Arts], of course, was my second ¡°rare¡± [Skill] as well, which only made me more excited for getting it higher, as I was bound to get a new Ability at a specific breakpoint. While [Appraise] got it¡¯s Ability already at Level 1, [Martial Arts] got it¡¯s Ability at level 3, together with the usual Perk point. When it came to the knowledge download for [Martial Arts], it had ended up being a surprisingly condensed primer on hand-to-hand combat, rather than a super broad introduction to the four hundred different types of martial arts that undoubtedly existed somewhere in this world. Ultimately, that made a lot of sense, however, as the Perks for the [Skill] were where most of the more in-depth knowledge about specific martial arts came from. The muscle memory that had come along with it, had definitely helped me clinch out the last round though, as I immediately recognized that my previous stance, the mish-mash of [Knives] and my Body and Reflex Attributes that I had used before, had left me quite open for a variety of attacks that Kenzie liked to throw my way. With the instinctive knowledge that I had gained from the download though, I had immediately fixed up that hole, causing Kenzie to lose her temper quicker and allowing me to capitalise on her ill-fated attempt to wrestle me to the ground. Mulling over how I''ve levelled up so much lately, it hit me that it¡¯s all thanks to a two-fold strategy. On one end, there was Miss K dishing out pro tips and wisdom, filling in the blanks where I''m stumbling in the dark. On the other, Kenzie was like the ultimate sparring partner¡ªalways on my level, pushing me to outpace her own learning curve and to adapt to her moves. ¡®It¡¯s a bit like my lessons with the digital Kill Joy, or the early days with Mr. Shori, except even more intense in nature¡­ I wonder if the System has an innate bonus of sorts for having somebody actively teach you?¡¯ I pondered as I compared the experience gains from today¡¯s [Martial Arts] sessions with previous experience gains. The instant I did so, however, I was startled by a completely new chime ringing out from the System; one that I had never heard before.
[System]: Mechanic explanation unlocked: [Mentor Bonus] [System]: [Mentor Bonus] - When actively taught by a >Master< in their field, experience threshold requirements are reduced by 25%.
Stunned, I took a moment to process the notification before it clicked, ¡®So, there is actually a mentor bonus built into the System¡­ Go figure.¡¯ But what really threw me for a loop wasn¡¯t just the existence of such a bonus¡ªit was its specificity. It mentioned >Master<, a title you could snag in the original game for hitting certain milestones with your [Skills]. This meant I couldn''t just rope in any pal for a quick lesson and expect a bonus. ¡®What''s the deal here? Who thought to include this feature? And why?¡¯ These questions were swirling in my head when Kenzie snapped me back to the present. ¡°You¡¯re picking up on this stuff way too quick, Sera,¡± she half-complained, a mix of admiration and frustration in her tone. ¡°I just can''t seem to keep up with you after Miss K¡¯s tips. It¡¯s like you¡¯ve got a sixth sense for dodging me towards the end. How do you do it? Give me some tips, will ya?¡± I had to tread carefully whenever discussing my swift advancements, often attributed to the System''s influence, to not raise too many eyebrows. So, when Kenzie probed for insights, I wasn''t entirely thrown off, as it was something I was continuously thinking about how to explain away. After mulling over her question for a brief moment, I finally responded, ¡°You know, I think the key issue might be your impatience. I haven''t had to be overly aggressive because I could count on you making the first move once you got frustrated. Miss K pointed out something similar. By the last round, it dawned on me that I didn''t have to overthink my approach whatsoever; waiting for you to close the distance was enough. That¡¯s been the major game-changer for me.¡± Kenzie silently absorbed my feedback with a furrowed brow, her frustration giving way to contemplation. As we made our way back to the blue-tiled area, a silence hung between us¡ªa mixture of exhaustion and newfound respect for each other''s capabilities. Our attention was abruptly captured by the climax of Jin and Tom''s bout. Tom, in a desperate attempt to block one of Jin''s cybernetic punches that was followed by a bone-chilling crack, ended up with his arm bending in an unnatural angle, clearly broken. Miss K called the fight in Jin¡¯s favour and assessed the injury with a practised eye, swiftly directing Tom towards the medical supplies without a hint of coddling. "One more round to go," she reminded the two boys as they dragged their battered and beaten bodies to the bench, her tone brooking no argument. Kenzie and I exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between us. ¡®There¡¯s no way out of this training session, even with a clearly broken arm, huh?¡¯ As we prepared for another round, the dojo''s floor swiftly cleaning itself of the boys¡¯ previous endeavours, Miss K approached with her usual pre-bout ritual. She shared a moment with Kenzie, who seemed to soak up her words like a sponge, her face lighting up with a mix of determination and excitement. This, naturally, sent a wave of apprehension through me, anticipating the challenge she would present next. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Then it was my turn. Miss K¡¯s close counsel felt like a secret strategy session. ¡°Liked the change-up last round,¡± she said, a hint of approval in her voice that felt as good as any victory. ¡°Your adaptability¡¯s extremely impressive, but don¡¯t get complacent. Kenzie''s catching on, so it¡¯s time to switch tactics. Use your kicks to keep her at bay, tire her out. She¡¯s quick, but you¡¯ve got the edge in strength. If you can corner her, keep her from moving around so much and make her fight on your terms, you¡¯ve got this.¡± Her advice was a blend of encouragement and strategy, tailoring her wisdom to our individual needs yet pushing us to break out of our comfort zones. Kenzie''s eager bounce back to the starting line was a clear signal she was ready to bring everything Miss K had suggested, whatever that might be. Taking a deep breath, I centred myself, keen on exploring the depth of the newly integrated muscle memory from the [Martial Arts] Skill. The knowledge was fresh, barely scratched in the heat of our previous exchanges, and now was the perfect opportunity to truly test its boundaries. Miss K''s clap, a sound now familiar and anticipatory, sliced through the air of the spacious training hall, signalling the beginning of our fourth bout. As I assumed my stance, I immediately felt the new muscle memory kick in and subtly adjust what I had been doing before, closing up some of my more clear openings¡ªwhich I only now realised I even had with my cobbled together one¡ªwhile providing more ease of movement at the same time. Kenzie, on the other hand, wasted absolutely no time in closing the distance, her intent clear as daylight¡ªto rake her claws across my face again. Usually, she would have prodded me with her powerful kicks first, but whatever Miss K had revealed to her, seemed to only have heightened her aggressiveness. Caught off-guard by Kenzie''s sudden surge in aggression, I found myself struggling to keep up. Her rapid movements were a blur, each advance a concerted effort to corner me and utilise her razor-sharp claws. Despite the smoother, more refined movements granted by my recent [Martial Arts] Skill upgrade, integrating this newfound muscle memory with my previous, more improvised combat style was like trying to blend oil with water. My defences, while improved in some regards, were not yet instinctual nor cohesive, causing hesitations that Kenzie exploited mercilessly, her claws finding their mark time and again, leaving a series of stinging reminders across my neck and arms. I thankfully managed to avoid any further damage to my face for now, although the dojo¡¯s robes were definitely going to require some serious stitching work after today¡¯s training was done. In a desperate attempt to regain control, I employed a series of basic punches and kicks, trying to create distance between us. Yet, Kenzie''s agility and determination saw her weave through my defences with alarming ease. Each of her movements was purposeful and precise, aimed at overwhelming me and breaking through whatever guard I managed to put up, almost as if she was banking on exploiting my newly found muscle memory not quite meshing with my previous efforts. ¡®This has to be Miss K¡¯s doing,¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think as I threw out another frantic couple of kicks to keep Kenzie momentarily at bay to take a deep breath. ¡®I have to figure something out or Kenzie will run me over¡­!¡¯ As the bout continued, I finally managed to land a few solid kicks, as I slowly learned to utilise the enhanced power and control from my [Martial Arts] Skill. One particularly well-timed side kick caught Kenzie off-balance, providing a brief respite from her relentless assault. However, her recovery was swift, barely giving me a moment to adjust before she was on me again, her claws swiping dangerously close to my face in a renewed flurry of strikes. In the next moment, however, Kenzie transitioned into a high kick, likely aiming for my head. I instinctively ducked under her leg as my improved Intuition blared alarm-bells in my head an instant before the kick could connect and countered with an uppercut courtesy of my newly gained muscle memory, hoping to use my physical strength and the System¡¯s guidance to my advantage. The blow connected with a violent thud that sent shivers down my spine, but the victory was short-lived as Kenzie somehow managed to twist mid-air, like a cat, simultaneously landing a spinning elbow that caught me squarely in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me and sending me stumbling backwards. We were both breathing and panting heavily, mere metres away from each other, but both biding our time to recoup some of the spent energy and to consider our next moves carefully. ¡®Kenzie is crazy,¡¯ I thought as I tried to get my beating heart under control, while nursing the ribs on my right side, checking for any permanent injuries. ¡®Whatever Miss K told her made her turn it up to 11. I can barely keep up, even with the System at my side¡­¡¯ I realised that if I wanted to get out of this training without some serious injuries, I¡¯d have to similarly up the ante in our next exchange, as Kenzie was winning our trades quite handily the way it currently stood. With a new, hastily thrown together game plan in mind, I inched forward and started throwing kicks, aimed at Kenzie¡¯s thighs. ¡®If I can keep her from moving so much, I have a chance,¡¯ I reminded myself of Miss K¡¯s advice, focusing down keeping her away from me as much as possible, while continuously chipping away at her legs, hoping that the continued pain would stack up quickly enough to make a difference in her mobility. As the fight progressed, my plan seemed to be bearing fruit as her movements became slower and slower, the more I kept hitting her legs with kicks that she wasn¡¯t prepared for. I found a rhythm, melding the lessons learned in previous clashes with the fresh insights my [Martial Arts] Skill had provided, crafting a stance that kept me mostly beyond Kenzie''s grasp. While she occasionally broke through with a forceful kick or a slashing attack, I clearly held the upper hand, steadily eroding her legs'' strength and her patience with each precisely calculated attack. Just as I anticipated Kenzie''s impending reckless charge, a consequence of her mounting frustration which had become a predictable pattern, another novel alert chime from the System abruptly derailed my focus. Caught off guard by this unexpected interruption, my thoughts scrambled. ''What the fuck is this now?!'' I wondered, momentarily distracted, realising the critical timing of this distraction could potentially shift the dynamic of our bout.
[System] Task reward collection timer has reached 00:00:00 for Task: [Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (Second Data Collection)] [System]: Beginning automatic reward collection for Task: [Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (Second Data Collection)] [System]: You have gained 100 Character Experience. [System]: You have gained 1 General Skill Point. [System]: Automatically spending General Skill Point gained from Task. [System]: [Martial Arts] selected as most relevant Skill for current activity. [System]: 800xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: [Martial Arts] has reached Level 2.
As I stood there, trying to catch my breath, the realisation hit me like a freight train¡ªI had completely spaced on claiming the task rewards, the very reason I had pushed myself to the brink in the first place. ''Damn it! I fucking forgot about the task rewards!'' In the whirlwind of trying to keep my mind off that chaotic day, the idea of claiming and utilising the Skill Point had slipped entirely through the cracks. Caught in this moment of regret, the world around me began to blur as the knowledge download initiated, my focus on the immediate surroundings rapidly diminishing. Struggling to maintain my balance, the sight of Kenzie¡¯s sharpened claws aiming for my face became the last clear image before the onslaught of new muscle memory from the System download jolted me, throwing my already off-balance body further off kilter. As the second level of [Martial Arts] Skill began to download into my consciousness, it expanded upon the foundational knowledge of hand-to-hand combat that I had previously received. This new layer of information included more nuanced principles like the importance of shifting weight for maximising the power behind strikes and the critical timing of breathing to enhance physical exertion and recovery during a fight. For instance, I learned the optimal moment to exhale sharply upon delivering a punch to concentrate force, and how to pivot my feet and hips in unison to lend additional momentum to my kicks, making them not just swift but also substantially more potent. Amid this flood of intricate knowledge, I found myself caught in a peculiar dance of survival. My body would lock up as new torrents of muscle memory were forcibly infused, leaving me vulnerable for split seconds that felt like an eternity. In these brief pauses, I resorted to throwing out blind punches and kicks, guided only by instinct and the fragments of information that managed to embed themselves between the overwhelming waves of the download. My movements were erratic, a pale imitation of the competence I had started to exhibit before the download began. Kenzie, seizing the openings created by my compromised state, hesitated only when our eyes met, searching for some sign of recognition or strategy. It was only after she caught a subtle nod from Miss K, signalling her to proceed, that she resumed her relentless assault, her claws finding their mark time and again. Despite the chaos, I somehow managed to stay upright, bolstered by the sporadic yet effective use of the newly downloaded techniques. Each successful defence or counter, no matter how blindly executed, was proof of the depth and utility of the foundational yet increasingly complex knowledge being ingrained into my muscle memory by the System. However, the disparity between my flailing attempts at applying this freshly acquired knowledge and Kenzie''s focused aggression was evident. The moments of lucidity, where the new techniques shone through, were brief highlights in an otherwise disorienting and painful ordeal. By the time the download finally stopped and I managed to stumble far enough away from Kenzie¡¯s rapid-fire attacks to catch a momentary breather, I had lost vision on my right eye and could barely move my left arm, as both were absolutely strewn with cuts and bruises, blood pooling out of a myriad of wounds left by her vicious claws. The glimpse of concern in Kenzie''s vulpine eyes sparked a resolve in me, prompting a nod that I aimed to be brimming with confidence despite the waves of pain coursing through my body. The new knowledge had been foundational, just like the 1st Level download, but also more complex and advanced, as one would expect. My muscle memory had seen a similarly incremental upgrade and I found myself able to implement a lot more quickly than the first time around, as I had already started on the journey of refining my cobbled-together initial stance, with the previous 1st-Level muscle memory. As the bout resumed, a newfound steadiness underpinned my movements. The advanced knowledge seemed to slot into place atop the existing foundation with surprising ease, enhancing my ability to adapt on the fly. With Kenzie bearing down on me once again, I discovered a newfound composure amidst the fray. Each step I took was more calculated, my body''s movements more economised to conserve energy, and, for the first time, my deflections did more than just redirect her relentless attacks to other areas of my body; they thwarted them, redirecting them into the air entirely, providing tangible proof of my evolving capabilities. ¡®This is crazy,¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think as my mind started being freed up from the constant thinking process of having to adjust to her moves, to becoming more instinctive in nature as a result of the new Level of the [Skill]. ¡®I guess I should thank the System for putting the point into something more immediately useful like [Martial Arts] rather than something dumb like [Maid]... Even if the Perks it would offer later on are great. At least [Martial Arts] will come in handy right away,¡¯ I had to admit amidst the frantic fighting that was starting to drastically slow down. Harnessing the fresh wave of muscle memory and the strategic insights from my recent [Martial Arts] Skill upgrade, I swiftly reclaimed control of the battle, despite my compromised state. My vision was blurred, and my left arm was nearly out of commission, yet my legs remained a powerful tool, delivering relentless kicks to Kenzie. As the fight wore on, I observed Kenzie''s mounting frustration as she struggled to bridge the gap between us. Anticipating her predictable move, I braced for her charge, planning to deploy the same decisive kick that had served me well in prior rounds. However, a spike of fear halted me mid-motion. The realisation dawned on me that the power surge from my Skill upgrade¡¯s knowledge input, that had given me a better understanding of how to properly convert my kinetic motion into direct application, coupled with Kenzie''s forward momentum, might result in grave injury rather than a mere end to the confrontation. In a split second, I tried to redirect my energy, pivoting on my supporting leg to execute an impromptu elbow strike. Guided by instinct, my elbow connected just below Kenzie''s shoulder blade, sending her crashing to the mat with a heavy thud, while I stumbled and fell from the sheer force of my exertion. ¡°Enough!¡± Miss K¡¯s voice cut through the tension, marking the close of a fiercely contested round that tested the limits of both of our resilience and adaptability. Relief washed over me as I collapsed next to Kenzie, both of us gasping for air, wincing from our injuries. But before I could even process the pain, Miss K was upon us. She hoisted me to my feet with an unexpected firmness, her expression unreadable, yet intense. "To my office. Now," she instructed, her voice leaving no room for debate¡­ Chapter 55 - Misstep I felt myself being forcibly nudged towards the back room, stumbling my way across the training room towards it¡ªthe same place where our group had first congregated. Navigating across the dojo, disoriented and drained, I couldn''t help but feel a mix of dread and confusion about what had prompted such a stern response from our instructor. Jin and Tom''s puzzled looks mirrored my own apprehension as I trudged past them. "Get yourself patched up, I''ll be with you shortly," Miss K''s voice floated to Kenzie. Then, as swiftly as she had appeared the first time around, Miss K showed up in front of me, silently ushering me into the office with a wave of her hand. Once inside the office, the bustling noise of the dojo was immediately muted, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the daunting silence. ''Did my hesitation to kick Kenzie again cause this¡­?'' I wondered, trying to pinpoint the misstep that had drawn Miss K''s ire. She made her way to her chair with a fluid grace, settling in before indicating the seat across the desk for me. ¡°Sit.¡± Gratefully sinking into it, I braced myself for the impending confrontation. Miss K cut straight to the chase, her tone direct and probing. "What the fuck is going on with you, Sera?" she demanded, brushing aside any possibility of vague excuses. "And don¡¯t give me some bullshit like ¡°It¡¯s a dizzy spell¡± or something along those lines. I''ve seen and heard of plenty of those. What¡¯s actually going on?" Caught off guard by her perceptiveness, I scrambled for an explanation that wouldn''t betray the System''s influence, fully aware that any fabrication would crumble under her expert scrutiny. Lying to someone as experienced as Miss K seemed futile, and yet, admitting the truth felt equally risky. "I... I''m not sure," was all I managed, opting for a semblance of honesty over concocting an unconvincing lie. Silence felt like a trap, yet speaking felt like stepping into unknown territory. Under Miss K''s intense gaze, I felt like a specimen under a microscope, unable to shift even an inch as her amber eyes bore into me like rail spikes, seeking answers. "I see," she finally spoke, her voice carrying a note of finality. For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered, transitioning from a light blue to a vivid yellow, sending an unspoken signal before my cerebral interface buzzed with an incoming data transfer request. Compelled more by the situation than choice, I accepted the request immediately, feeling the precariousness of my standing. The file that opened before me bore my name. "Seraphine Vildea, age 15, classified as human with no genetic or bionic modifications. Notable for cybernetic enhancements limited to ocular implants and a cerebral interface. Noteworthy for recently emerging from a comatose state," Miss K narrated selectively, her voice devoid of judgement yet rich with unasked questions. "You don''t have any background in martial arts, right? Actually, don''t answer that. I know you don''t. I made sure to look into it. Even double-checked, actually," she said, her annoyance creeping into her voice. "But then, during that final round, you bust out moves like you''ve been doing them your whole life? Those aren''t natural instincts. Those aren''t moves you just pull out of thin air like that." Miss K stood up, circled the desk, and took a seat on its edge right in front of me. Her presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud looming overhead, ready to burst. "I''ve coached prodigies, scions of top families, all types of the very physical embodiments of ''quick learners'' and ''genuises'' you can imagine. But I''ve never seen anyone just ''get'' fighting the way you did in those last two rounds. Your file says you''ve got no enhancements, which was specifically part of why I let you train here at a discount... ¡°Misrepresenting somebody in the paperwork submitted here isn''t just a slap in the face to me but a serious violation against Ether Labs itself. The Arkion Dojo isn''t just some random gym; it''s an integral part of Ether Labs. Any paperwork you hand in here is as serious as if you were dealing directly with the corporation itself. You get that, right?" Her tone was frosty, and under her steely gaze, I found it hard to even draw breath. The thought of somebody discovering any discrepancies in Valeria¡¯s, undoubtedly, meticulously crafted documentation was a complete nightmare scenario. The mere idea sent shivers down my spine, knowing her wrath would be swift and unparalleled if my actions even as much as hinted at the possibility that she might have been untruthful. "Yes! I understand completely! I assure you, the details listed are accurate..." My voice faltered, a realisation dawning on me that my claim might not hold under scrutiny, especially considering the peculiar nature of my day''s injuries¡ªor rather, the conspicuous absence of any residual blood evidence. I had been bleeding all over the place this entire day, yet if anyone were to actually pay attention, they¡¯d realise I had left no blood behind anywhere. At all. None, nothing, nada. "Except... Except in my blood. There''s... a sort of experimental tech. It causes my blood to disintegrate when it''s separated from me¡­ I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s cybernetic, bionic or genetic in nature; it probably doesn¡¯t really fall under any of them, as it doesn¡¯t do anything past disintegrate my blood¡­ But that''s the full extent of it, I swear!" I rushed to explain, striving to convey sincerity and hoping my gaze held enough conviction to match the earnestness in my voice. Technically, I wasn''t being deceptive either. The System, as far as my understanding went, wasn''t a traditional enhancement of any sort. It didn''t fit neatly into categories like cybernetics, genetics, or bionics at all. So, in a roundabout way, I was speaking my truth, sticking to the facts regarding the enhancements¡ªor the lack thereof¡ªthat Valeria had initially disclosed. The silence that settled between us was suffocating, far more intense than of the awkward dinners featuring Valeria. I teetered on the brink of utter despair, the idea of Miss K doubting the veracity of my documents¡ªand consequently, Valeria being notified¡ªfilled me with unspeakable amounts of dread. Cold sweat trickled down my spine, yet I remained immobile, ensnared by Miss K¡¯s penetrating and evaluating gaze. After what felt like an eternity, a period so drawn out it seemed to shave weeks off my lifespan, Miss K exhaled a weary sigh. ¡°If that¡¯s the case,¡± she began, her tone softening slightly, ¡°then explain these ¡°dizzy spells¡± and the subsequent improvements you''ve been having. And be honest with me. I¡¯m not your enemy; I''m here to help. But I need to enforce the rules. If I start making exceptions, I might as well open the doors wide to the whole fucking city for discounts.¡± Drawing in a much-needed breath¡ªa breath I hadn''t realised I was holding¡ªallowed a slice of tension to slip away from me. It appeared I''d navigated through the initial storm of scrutiny, as evidenced by the thaw in Miss K¡¯s demeanour, which now bordered on something akin to approachable warmth. The upcoming explanation required a delicate balance; I needed to maintain this newfound goodwill without minimising or outright fabricating the truth. Miss K¡¯s future vigilance was already guaranteed, making the stakes of my forthcoming words especially high. ¡®Damnit, System¡­ Why couldn¡¯t you just give me a choice when to accept the knowledge and muscle memory downloads?!¡¯ I thought in frustration as I hastily threw together an explanation that I hoped would pass scrutiny. ¡°This is something that nobody else knows; not even my family, so I¡¯d appreciate it if it stayed between us,¡± I started, both because I genuinely didn¡¯t want what I was going to say next to come out, as well as farm some sympathy points from Miss K, "There''s this... Strange connection in my brain that speeds up my acquisition of specific skills dramatically. It''s like getting memories at certain intervals from a life I never lived; or something like that¡­ Whenever it happens, I¡¯m momentarily disoriented. That¡¯s ultimately where the dizzy spells come from¡­ It''s neither cybernetic or bionic in nature, nor am I genetically modified; that much I can assure you! My mom would be all over this if she knew..." My words started veering too close to personal fears and doubts, but I managed to reel myself back in time. Sharing about the System felt like stepping out on a limb, but concealing it from Miss K, especially regarding my sudden prowess in [Martial Arts], seemed futile and perhaps even more dangerous in the long run, than injecting some truth into it. Having just kicked off a schedule packed with sessions at this dojo, pretending I had some extra-curricular magic up my sleeve to justify my swift advancement in skills was out of the question¡ªit''d be way too transparent. My gut was telling me Miss K was in it for the love of martial arts and the genuine progress of her students, not the corporate chess game, but laying my cards on the table like this was risky¡ªespecially since my gut hadn¡¯t been particularly accurate in the recent days whatsoever, considering the whole Aki issue¡­ ''If I catch even a hint she might betray my trust, it''s probably time to hit the road...'' I contemplated, the thought bitter in my mind. The idea of leaving the newfound family with Gabriel pained me deeply, yet the prospect of becoming Ether Labs'' next big project, or any corporations¡¯ for that matter, forced my hand. Escaping the lab table was, regretfully, going to have to be at the top of my agenda; no matter what. ¡°That¡¯s quite the revelation,¡± Miss K responded, her expression a mix of intrigue and a barrage of unasked questions. ¡°And it''s neither cybernetic, bionic, nor genetically in nature, you say¡­?¡± ¡°Absolutely, Ma¡¯am! I¡¯m open to any examination of yours to confirm it, ideally something on the less painful side,¡± I suggested, feeling a glimmer of hope at her intrigued demeanour. Leaning back, Miss K interlaced her fingers behind her head, stretching in a dramatic display of resignation and let out a long, thoughtful sigh, her gaze drifting momentarily as if pondering a complex puzzle. I quickly averted my gaze, feeling a bit flustered at the abruptness of her abs suddenly being pushed practically right into my face¡ªwhich only ended up making me more irritated, as this was not the time to get flustered at all¡ª, just as she smoothly pushed herself up from the desk and strolled to the door. ¡°So, we have a deal then, Sera. Your secret¡¯s safe with me, but I¡¯m expecting you to share any fascinating insights from this... let¡¯s call it, ¡°unique learning method¡±, of yours,¡± Miss K proposed, her tone light yet carrying an underlying firmness. She offered her hand in agreement, standing by the door. The gesture left no room for doubt nor denial, not that I was inclined to reject her offer anyway. I managed to stand up, albeit with a bit of a wobble, feeling the weight of the day''s ordeals and the conversation''s stress lift off my shoulders as if shedding an invisible heavy cloak. Her grip on my hand was unexpectedly firm, bordering on painful, emphasising the seriousness of her next question, delivered with a chilling undertone, ¡°Just to be clear, you do have some measure of control over this, right? We''re not dealing with some rogue entity wreaking havoc through your neural interface?¡± The gravity of her inquiry hit me hard. The underlying message was clear: If I couldn''t assure her of my control over this phenomenon, she wouldn''t just refuse to keep my secret; the consequences could be far more dire. ¡°I swear, it''s under control! It''s all about learning¡ªknowledge and muscle memory, mostly. Nothing untoward or unmanageable, I promise!¡± I rushed to convince her, desperate for her to ease the ironclad grip that seemed to threaten the integrity of every bone in my hand. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The grip on my hand briefly became excruciating, silently gauging my honesty, before finally relaxing, the residual ache serving as a poignant reminder of the gravity of our pact. As the grip eased, Miss K released me, leaving me gasping, tears edging my vision. "Alright, we''ve struck a deal then! Don''t forget your part of it, though," she noted, her smile a mix of warmth and a hint of a warning, as she motioned me towards the door. "And about those abs: We''ll have you working towards them sooner than you think," she added, her wink sending a wave of embarrassment washing over me. I inwardly groaned, ''She noticed that, huh?'' realising my not-so-covert glance, that I really didn¡¯t have much of a hand in, hadn''t gone unnoticed after all. Making my way out, eager to leave the embarrassment behind, her low mutter caught my ear, "...some form of spirit connection...?" The question instantly piqued my interest to sky-high levels, urging me to turn back and inquire further, but I just managed to hold back. ¡®Not now, Sera. Don¡¯t push it¡­¡¯ I told myself, continuing to walk and doing my best to pretend that I hadn¡¯t just heard her mutter that. Pushing my luck further than what I had seemed like a bad idea after navigating through that absolute minefield of revelations and agreements. I hastened towards the bench where Kenzie was already busy applying a plethora of medical supplies to her battle-worn self. Her fox-ears perked up and swivelled my way, signalling she''d noticed me before I even got close. ¡°Sera!¡± she exclaimed with a vigour that her battered state belied, attempting to rise too swiftly and wincing as she did. ¡°Ouch¡­! Did¡­ did Sensei give you a hard time? Was it because you pulled your punches again¡­?¡± Her query was tinged with a mix of concern and self-consciousness, clearly worried her own performance in the last round might''ve put me in a tight spot. ¡°Ah, no, no! It''s all good,¡± I hastened to reassure her, hands up as if to physically push her worries away. ¡°We just talked about those dizzy spells I¡¯ve been having. Miss K wanted to make sure I was okay, handed me something to help with it. You didn¡¯t cause any trouble, Kenzie, really.¡± Her tension visibly ebbed away, replaced by a sheepish, grateful expression. ¡°Thanks anyway¡­ For not¡­ you know. Causing me some serious brain damage, or whatever¡­¡± Then, with newfound determination lacing her voice, she vowed, ¡°I¡¯ll step up my game from here on out. Won¡¯t make you hold back again like that, promise!¡± I simply grunted a reply, acknowledging her commitment as I began applying the green ointment that had inadvertently become my facial cosmetic of the day. The analgesic properties of the ointment had rendered most of my face numb, thanks to Kenzie¡¯s continuously eager work at re-sculpting the very flesh of my face into nothing more than loose strips. ¡°Was that ¡®Spirit Connection¡¯ stuff about your dizzy spells then?¡± Kenzie''s sudden inquiry jolted me, prompting an instant pivot towards her, marked by my surprise. Without waiting for my verbal cue, she gestured towards her twitching fox-ears atop her head, offering an explanation before I could ask. ¡°These aren¡¯t just for show, you know?¡± With a heavy sigh, I sat down on the bench, my weary and thoroughly exhausted body screaming in joy as they finally got to rest for a moment, before answering, ¡°I honestly have no idea what she was talking about. I¡¯m guessing it was about them, yeah, but I have no clue what that means. You have any idea, by chance?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± came the immediate answer. ¡°Figured I¡¯d ask since it sounded neat. I¡¯ve only ever heard very few things about Spirits from my big sister, even though she wasn¡¯t really supposed to share anything¡­ But even that stuff was super vague, at best,¡± Kenzie answered with a shrug. I tried my best to school my face, as the mention of ¡°Spirits¡± was something entirely unknown and thoroughly exciting to me. Neon Dragons hadn¡¯t featured any such thing, as far as I was aware at least. Sure, there had been mythologies, rumours and legends in the world, just like ours, some of which included things that could likely be considered ¡°Spirits¡±, but this didn¡¯t sound anywhere similar to that, if Kenzie¡¯s big sister and Miss K were not just aware, but seemingly somehow in-the-know about them. ¡®Spirits¡­ Definitely something I should look into at some stage. I really need to find a shard-library of some sort; sooner rather than later. The amount of questions I have and things I need to learn just keep stacking up, rather than decrease,¡¯ I thought to myself, reiterating the need to ask Mr. Shori for any advice on the matter. Slumped on the bench, Kenzie and I were practically clinging to whatever energy we had left, nursing our wounds from the day''s grueling sessions. As we braced ourselves for the boys'' final showdown, Miss K''s voice, strong and clear, began prepping them for their last match, and her words resonated with us too. "Look, I know you''re beat up, drained, and in pain," she began, her tone initially soft before swiftly sharpening. "This setup was intentional. I kept you in the dark about the multiple rounds at the start to push you to your limits from the get-go and maintain that intensity. You might be wondering, ''How can we possibly learn martial arts in this state?'' But let me flip that on its head, instead: ''How could you possibly learn martial arts without being pushed to your limits?''" She let the question hang for a moment, with each of the students trying to decipher what she was trying to say, before she continued. ¡°Martial arts are nothing more than a codified system of combat practices, if you want to break it down to its very basics. Most of them are designed for self-defence, others for discipline, and again others for inflicting as much damage as possible to the opponent. The styles differ wildly in complexity, execution and difficulty but there is one thing they all share: They are meant to be useful in combat.¡± I watched with rapt attention as Miss K showed off some different poses and stances, likely part of different martial arts styles she was confident in, her body moving in an impressively controlled manner, like every single fibre of her muscles was fully under her control. ¡°When it comes to combat, however, one thing is equally and universally true: More often than not, you don¡¯t get to choose when it happens.¡± With astonishing speed, she thrust her fists towards Jin and Tom, halting just shy of making contact. Their delayed flinch spoke volumes of the vast skill gap between them; Miss K had already resumed her casual stance before they even managed to react. This vivid demonstration of skill and speed underscored the profound divide in experience and training she had on us. "Don''t stress, hitting my students isn''t my style," she reassured with a softer tone, easing the tension for Jin and Tom as they cautiously returned to their initial positions. "Still, the lesson remains," she continued, her voice carrying the weight of undeniable truth. "You can''t pick the moment trouble decides to come knocking¡ªwhether it''s a ganger, a scav, a corporate agent, an Operator or any of the myriad dangers lurking out there. Martial arts training is about being prepared in any condition¡ªfully charged, somewhat weary, barely hanging on, or even on the brink of collapse. Understanding your limits, knowing how far you can push yourself while still managing to defend what''s yours is crucial. What good are your cybernetic arms, your bionic veins, your cute fox-ears or your honed physique if you can¡¯t protect yourself from those willing to take them, simply because you¡¯re tired?" As she cast her gaze upon each of us, mentioning the potential valuables we each had in the eyes of scavengers, I felt a cold shiver; I was involuntarily reminded of the harrowing experience with Gabriel, seeing him pleading for my help, bleeding profusely... Her gaze lingered on me last, intensifying the message: No one was exempt from danger and we didn¡¯t get a choice in when and where. "So, for this finale, I''m pushing you to your limits and beyond. Go all out¡ªattack, defend, keep moving. Don''t halt until your body physically cannot continue, and then push some more," Miss K charged us with her command, her tone more fierce than before. "Demonstrate your sheer willpower, your burning desire to thrive in this world. Challenge every natural limit of your being, bend your physical constraints through sheer force of will. Don''t worry about the aftermath; I''ve got your recovery covered. Just immerse yourself in the now and exceed what you perceive as your boundaries." With that, she nudged Jin and Tom towards their marks, ready for the last clash. A similar spark ignited within them, a reflection of the determination that I felt surging within me, too, stoked by our instructor''s words. ¡®I¡¯ll have to be sure to thank Valeria at some stage, to get me in here. I don¡¯t think I could have asked for a better teacher in these matters, like at all,¡¯ I absent-mindedly thought to myself as I anxiously waited for the final round to commence¡­
My breaths came ragged and heavy, each one laborious and seemingly impossible as I struggled to stay on my feet. Kenzie and I had been at it for what felt like hours, as we slugged away at each other; her claws slicing and cutting deep; my punches and kicks leaving ugly bruises all over her body in return. Jin and Tom¡¯s final round had been a similar slug-fest towards the end, with both students having completely used up their energy, yet neither wanting to yield first. Tom had ultimately won the endurance match, thanks to his bionic enhancements granting him a bit more leeway in terms of recovery, but they both had to be carried out of the ring by Miss K, as neither had been able to move by the time she called for a stop. As the realisation dawned that our bout might also be drawing to a similar close, my thoughts sluggishly pieced together, hindered by the lack of oxygen and the blood loss that was now acutely apparent. My face, neck, and arms bore countless injuries, surpassing even the carnage of that ill-fated data collection mission just a few days ago, yet I remained upright. Kenzie stood opposite me, equally battered. My attacks had left her with multiple broken ribs, a fractured nose, and one eye swollen shut, bleeding unrelentingly. Additionally, one of her arms, now visibly dislocated and broken, hung limply by her side, a reminder of one of her missteps of our earlier skirmishes in this round. Describing our condition as merely "rough" would be putting it mildly. In my hazy, half-delirious state, it dawned on me¡ªthe sheer brilliance of Miss K''s initial assessment strategy. She had cunningly pushed us to our limits, causing us to repeatedly exhaust ourselves and accrue injuries, all in the name of building our endurance and pain tolerance. The thought of enduring, and especially inflicting, such levels of pain on somebody else would have seemed unimaginable to me before, yet there I was, determined not to be the first to give in. The frequent application of medical ointment between each round, heavily imbued with painkillers, had subtly numbed us to discomfort as well, allowing us to push beyond our preconceived boundaries more and more with each round. This method was ingeniously crafted to acclimate us to combat''s raw edge, teaching us to fight despite the odds. As I pieced together Miss K''s deliberate orchestration of these trials, my resolve only hardened¡ªI was intent on being the last one standing, acknowledging her method''s effectiveness even as it pushed me to the brink. Kenzie''s once lively fox-ears, a constant symbol of her alertness and insane levels of energy, had long sagged, mirroring the depth of our shared fatigue. Still, we relentlessly exchanged kicks, punches, and claw swipes, each of us stubbornly refusing to be the first to fold. Words and even grunts were luxuries we couldn''t afford, a stark contrast to Jin and Tom''s bout, which had been punctuated with verbal jabs and taunts until their energy had completely drained away. My strategy had been to needle Kenzie into losing her cool, as I had managed to do in our previous encounters. Yet, whatever pearls of wisdom Miss K imparted to her before this final round seemed to anchor her composure, preventing the usual rise to bait. Fleeting moments of frustration flashed across Kenzie''s face, only to dissolve as swiftly as they appeared, helping her maintain her agility and steer clear of the desperate, fight-ending manoeuvres I had taken advantage of so far. This resilience turned the final round into an endurance marathon. My attacks on her thighs, relentless as they were, seemed to become more taxing on me than on her; she appeared increasingly impervious to the pain, while my legs felt on the brink of rebellion, threatening to detach from my body with each kick landed. Similarly, our concern for appearances had long vanished, replaced by the raw survival instinct, as we gasped for air, faces smeared with blood and, for Kenzie, remnants of a previous punch-induced nausea. Embodying Miss K¡¯s admonition to push ourselves beyond our limits, we were a live illustration of determination, though every rare glance I threw her way found her deeply absorbed in our duel, her gaze tracking our every move. It dawned on me that our relentless effort was not in vain; the unwavering attention from our teacher signalled our adherence to her expectations. Despite the toll it was taking, she hadn¡¯t called for a halt, a silent affirmation that we were, indeed, on the right track. My sight grew increasingly foggy, a progression that had been claiming my clarity over the past several minutes, signalling the imminent conclusion of our clash. I had prematurely anticipated this moment several times before, yet this instance felt distinctly final. ''I suspect she senses it as well,'' I mused, eyeing Kenzie''s lingering agility with a mix of envy and awe. Her legs, defying the exhaustive toll of our prolonged engagement, carried her still, whereas I had resigned to a static defence, emblematic of a beleaguered prey making its final stand against an encroaching hunter. Crossing beyond our thresholds of endurance, we both recognized that the forthcoming sequences¡ªperhaps the next alone¡ªwould decisively conclude our standoff. Thus, we hesitated, each vigilant for any hint of faltering in the other. My strategy had been to exploit her legs, relentlessly targeted since our second round. Yet, astonishingly, she still somehow navigated the ring with an agility that belied the cumulative impact of my efforts. ''You have to start feeling it now, Kenzie. Just a single misstep, come on,'' I silently implored, desperate for the slightest opening to resolve our bout and surrender to the floor''s beckoning embrace. The moment my sight vanished into darkness, it wasn''t just a blink¡ªit was a chasm, swallowing me whole into a brief abyss of disorientation. That moment, however fleeting, did not slip by unnoticed. In an instant, Kenzie, propelled by her battered yet defiant legs, surged toward me. Her remaining clawed hand, a blur of raw instinct, aimed a swipe with lethal precision directly towards my face. My vision snapped back just in time to witness the impending strike. ''I can''t block this...'' The realisation hit me as hard as I knew her claws would. With no defence left to me, I reverted to my only remaining option. My fist, driven by desperation and the momentum of Kenzie''s charge, flew towards her in a desperate haymaker, banking on the combined force of our movements to bring her down. The swipe was going to land, but if I could remain on my feet, perhaps victory could still be mine. Then, agony like no other tore through me as her claws carved a grievous path across the bridge of my nose, continued into my right eye socket, and grotesquely liberated my eye from its berth. It was flung onto the floor with a sickening combination of liquidy, meaty sounds and the crunch of shattered metal. Our collision had another brutal finality, however. The sounds of breaking, things that were never meant to break, accompanied my own punch''s impact. No triumph came with the hit, only an overwhelming torrent of pain that dwarfed any previous experience. The sensation of being shot just days ago paled in comparison to the present torment enveloping my face, my missing eye, and my aching hand. Collapsing to my knees, I witnessed Kenzie''s form also succumb to gravity beside me. Miss K''s command of "Enough!" barely reached my ears as the world around me dimmed, consciousness slipping away just as I felt myself being hoisted from the floor¡­ Chapter 56 - Refactoring Chapter 56 - Refactoring I expected to be woken up by pain, but instead, I was startled awake by yet another new type of chime I had never heard from the System before. [System]: ¡ª Start of Emergency Notice ¡ª [System]: Maximum Skill threshold has been exceeded. Combine or Discard Skills until number of Skills is below the threshold again. [System]: Current Maximum Skill threshold: 30 [System]: Current Number of Skills: 33 [System]: Thought-process accelerated and bodily functions locked until issue is resolved, in order to preserve User¡¯s wellbeing. [System]: Future instances of excess Skills will be prevented, by putting newly unlocked Skills beyond the excess into the "Available Skills" list. In order to gain access to those Skills, they will have to be equipped manually or regained after making additional space. [System]: ¡ª End of Emergency Notice ¡ª It took me three solid reads to finally grasp the situation. Even though the System seemed to have given my brain a turbo-boost, the whirlwind of recent events had me all tangled up in confusion. The last vivid memory that was thoroughly etched into my mind was Kenzie''s claws ruthlessly tearing through my eye in our final standoff, a memory so vivid and painful, yet at this moment, I felt oddly detached from any semblance of pain. Here I was, aware yet unable to see or move, a peculiar paralysis set by the System''s protective shutdown, if the notice it blasted at me was to be believed. Frustratingly, I couldn''t even shut the hovering System Interface, no matter how hard I willed it. ''I really went overboard with unlocking all those Skills yesterday, didn''t I?'' I mused to myself, attempting to inject some calm into the bizarre scenario I found myself in. Waking up to an emergency alert from the System, especially after an experience as traumatic as losing an eye, was nowhere near what I had anticipated for the day. Yet here I was, staring at the [Skill] screen that floated in my mind''s eye, faced with some crucial decisions that I knew were immutable once made.
[<-- Skills -->] [Meditation] Level 4 - 200 / 4,000xp (Intuition/Ego) [First-Aid] Level 1 - 300 / 1,000xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Juggling] Level 3 - 600 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Blades] Level 1 - 0 / 1,000xp (Body/Reflex) [Throwing] Level 4 - 400 / 4,000xp (Reflex) [Knives] Level 3 - 1,200 / 3,000xp (Reflex) [Programming] Level 3 - 500 / 3,000xp (Intellect) [Netrunning] Level 2 - 400 / 2,000xp (Intellect) [Manifestation] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Intuition) [Cooking] Level 2 - 1,200 / 2,000xp (Intuition/Tech) [Slicing] Level 1 - 100 / 1,000xp (>Intellect/Reflex<) [Maid] Level 1 - 300 / 1,000xp (Body/Intuition) [Stealth] Level 3 - 1,900 / 3,000xp (Edge) [Athletics] Level 3 - 1,400 / 3,000xp (Body) [Contortion] Level 1 - 700 / 1,000xp (>Body/Reflex<) [Acrobatics] Level 2 - 600 / 2,000xp (Body/Edge) [Poison] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (>Edge/Tech<) [Deception] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Edge/Ego<) [Appraise] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Intuition/Tech/Intellect<) [Negotiation] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Ego/Intuition<) [Quick-Hacks] Level 1 - 500 / 1,000xp (>Edge/Intellect<) [Climbing] Level 0 - 200 / 700xp (Reflex/Body) [Jury-Rigging] Level 0 - 200 / 700xp (>Intuition/Tech<) [Murder] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (>Edge/Ego<) [Singing] Level 0 - 500 / 700xp (Intuition/Ego) [Dancing] Level 0 - 200 / 700xp (Reflex/Intuition) [Drawing] Level 0 - 300 / 700xp (Intellect/Reflex) [Tracking] Level 0 - 100 / 700xp (Intellect/Intuition) [Lip-Reading] Level 0 - 200 / 700xp (Intellect) [Accounting] Level 0 - 100 / 700xp (Intellect) [Tailoring] Level 0 - 400 / 700xp (>Reflex/Tech<) [Medicine] Level 0 - 600 / 700xp (>Intellect/Tech<) [Martial Arts] Level 2 - 0 / 2,000xp (>Body/Reflex/Intuition<)
''Wow, that really is a hefty collection of Skills, isn''t it?'' I reflected, somewhat taken aback by the sheer number I had managed to amass in such a short span of time. I knew I''d bump into this limit eventually, but, to be honest, I hadn''t given it much serious thought since I landed in this new reality. Back in the days of Neon Dragons, the game set a cap on how many Skills a player could have at once¡ªstarting at twenty. Sure, there were a couple of tricks to expand that capacity, but they weren''t exactly lying around every corner. Most builds had revolved around a roster of twenty-five Skills, banking on the assumption that snagging five extra slots was doable for the average Joe. The ceiling for Skills? Never quite pinned that down, though my gut pegged it somewhere between thirty to forty, based on nothing but gut feeling, really. Given these constraints, the game designers had to get creative, because let''s face it, some Skills were simply too good to pass. Staples like [Stealth], [First-Aid], and [Murder] were non-negotiable for just about any serious build. To navigate the tricky waters of an overflowing Skill set, players had two main lifelines, which the System was now kindly pointing out to me as well: Combine and Discard. Tossing a Skill into the virtual bin seemed pretty straightforward¡ªhit Discard, and it''s gone for good, stashed away in a no-go zone on my Skill list. Unless, of course, I decided to fish it back out from the depths of my self-imposed exile. But combining? Now, that''s where things got interesting. Only a select few Skills could merge into some kind of Combo-Skill, making the choice less about decluttering and more about strategy. No way could I smash together something like [Murder] and [First-Aid] into a single, all-encompassing Combo-Skill. The universe just doesn''t work like that. What''s more, these new Skills weren''t just some simple mash-up; they were their own beast with unique progression paths, governing Attributes, and even Perks that didn''t exist in the parent Skills. This bit was especially crucial for me. Merging Skills meant I''d likely kiss goodbye to the detailed downloads from the individual Skills, trading them in for the more generic updates from the new, blended Skill. ''Great, just what I needed: More choices to make,'' I mused sarcastically. ''But hey, cheers for the 30-Skill starting point, System. Considering the Skill smorgasbord this world offers, I''ll take the head start.'' With a mental sigh, I revisited my Skill list, eyeing a few potential pairings that seemed like no-brainers for a merge. I lined up [Singing], [Dancing], and [Juggling] in my mental checklist, eyeing them for a merge into [[Perform]]. Granted, I hadn''t delved into the perks of [Singing] and [Dancing]¡ªa mystery that would stay unsolved for now, given my current lock-in situation on this System prompt. [Juggling] had already thrown me a lifeline with the [Ambidexterity] Perk, a keeper if ever there was one. ''Hopefully, the merge doesn''t make that Perk disappear into thin air,'' I considered, tagging the trio for the blend. My mind did a quick scan for any other merge-worthy candidates, just in case. [First-Aid] and [Medicine] flirted with the idea of forming some [Medic]-esque Skill, though that was more a stab in the dark than a sure-fire guarantee. With [[Perform]], at least I knew what was in store. Mulling it over, utilising the System''s boosted brain speed to its fullest, I circled back to the same conclusion over and over again: Merging those three was the way to go. The performance trio wasn''t crucial for survival or immediate usefulness in my current life scenario. Plus, merging them wouldn''t exactly erase my acquired abilities, just broadening their scope into something more generalised. After a final mental nod to my decision, I punched in the information, eager yet simultaenously apprehensive about what my first Combo-Skill would end up providing.
[System]: Do you really want to Combine the following Skills: [Singing], [Dancing], [Juggling]? [System]: You will be granted the [[Perform]] Combo-Skill. [System]: WARNING: This decision is irrevocable, permanently linking those Skills to [[Perform]]. You will not be able to unlock any of those Skills individually going forward, even if [[Perform]] is Discarded after the fact. [System]: Combine [Singing], [Dancing], [Juggling] into [[Perform]]? Y / N
Before I committed to my choice, I spared a thought for [Juggling], a silent shout-out to my humble beginnings. ''You''ve been a real game-changer. I won''t forget the leg-up you gave me. Thank you.'' It was more than just a Skill for me; it had been my comeback ticket post-coma, my sneak peek into the System''s workings, not to mention it had handed me [Ambidexterity]¡ªa real gem, both in-game and in this new reality of mine. Letting it go did sting a bit. But it wasn''t as if I was erasing it entirely. The essence of [Juggling], and the finesse it brought me, would stay intact, ready to be called upon whenever. With a mixed feeling of nostalgia and anticipation, I pressed confirm, bracing for the cascade of System alerts that followed.
[System]: [Singing], [Dancing], [Juggling] Skills have been removed from User. [System]: [[Perform]] Combo-Skill has been unlocked and granted to User. [System]: [[Perform]] has been set to Level 3, in accordance with the highest Level combined Skill ([Juggling]). [System]: [Ambidexterity] has been added to [[Perform]] Combo-Skill Perk Tree, in accordance with combined Skill¡¯s Perk choices ([Juggling]). [System]: No other pre-existing Perks detected, skipping Perk selection.
A wave of relief washed over me as I scanned the notifications. ''Phew, [Ambidexterity] is still mine. Wasn''t totally sure how Perks would translate here, but looks like it''s all good¡ªmaybe even more flexible than the game''s setup?'' In Neon Dragons, Perks often carried over in Skill combos, but not always. Here, it seems like they get woven into the new Skill''s Perk Tree, dodging any potential losses¡ªwhich I was seriously thankful for. Losing a Perk you''ve grown attached to would be a nightmare. Still, the possibility of losing Perks wasn''t entirely off the table. Combining Skills with existing Perks could mean having to re-earn them, especially if the combined Skill starts at the highest level of its components. So, merging three level 3 Skills might mean choosing which Perk to keep¡ªundoubtedly a crucial detail to remember for the future. After merging those Skills, my tally was at 31/30. I still needed to either drop a Skill or merge more. ''What to combine next...'' I mused, eyeing my Skill list. Ideally, I''d free up a slot or two for future additions, avoiding a repeat of today''s Skill cap drama, after the System checked for my Maximum Skill amount each morning. The thought of hitting the Discard button was about as appealing as jumping into a pit of scavs without any real plan¡ªbasically, a no-go. In the game, waving goodbye to [Accounting] might''ve made sense, but here, where even the most left-field Skill could turn into my next big break, I wasn''t about to let anything go without a fight. The Perks from levelling, the detailed knowledge and muscle memory downloads from the System¡ªthey were too good to pass up. But, here''s the rub: My knowledge on Combo-Skills was about as in-depth as my knowledge about what lay behind the Wall itself. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ''Should''ve paid more attention to those high-level builds...'' I berated myself, realising my mental database of Combo-Skills was embarrassingly sparse. Right now, the list of Skills staring back at me held potential for maybe one other Combo-Skill I was sure about. Exploring other combinations would be a shot in the dark, a gamble on what could merge into a Combo-Skill. While the System would likely not simply delete my Skills on a wrong combination, I didn¡¯t really want to spend the next eternity trying to combine every single Skill in my list. ''Not exactly ideal to play mix and match without a clue...'' I mused, weighing my options. The idea of condensing my Skill list was a double-edged sword in itself. ''To combine or not to combine, that is the question...'' I pondered, stuck in a loop of indecision about my next move. Mashing Skills together into these Combo-Skills sounded great on paper¡ªlike getting a bargain at the Skills supermarket. But the reality? It''s like expecting a seven-course meal and ending up with a buffet plate. Sure, there''s variety, but you''re not getting the best of each dish. Take [[Perform]], my new Frankenstein creation. It''s neat, covering everything from belting tunes to busting moves on the dance floor, and yeah, juggling. But here''s the catch: It was a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. My juggling finesse? Capped. Because now, [[Perform]] wasn¡¯t just about keeping balls airborne; it was an all encompassing entertainment package deal. The depth of each individual skill gets watered down to make room for the breadth to fit all the Skills in. As such, condensing down absolutely everything into Combo-Skills wasn¡¯t really something I should be aiming for either. I couldn¡¯t help but lament my current situation. I had always hated having to make choices, yet the System seemed to want to push more and more of them onto me at every turn, ¡®Why did I have to end up with the most stingy System of all time¡­? Why can¡¯t it just give me all the Skills, all the Perks and make me overpowered? Isn¡¯t this a fucking Isekai of sorts? Why did I get the one where the MC suffers and has to make choices all the time, what the fuck?¡¯ Navigating through my Skill set felt like walking through a minefield of potential combinations. Right there, glaring at me from the screen, were [Blades] and [Knives], practically begging to be mashed together into some Combo-Skill. I had other potential mergers on my mind, like [Medicine] and [Poison], or [Athletics] and [Contortion], but those were just shots in the dark, steeped in uncertainty. And here''s the thing: I wasn''t ready to fuse them just yet. I hadn''t even scratched the surface of what they could offer on their own. Particularly with crafting skills¡ªthose were my golden geese. The perks they promised? Game-changers. The downloads from the System on those? Expected to be like discovering fire. Considering my baseline knowledge on chemistry and engineering hovered around zero, those Skills were my crash course to becoming a Renaissance woman. Yet, the [Blades] and [Knives] combo was on pause too. My gut told me to even their Levels out first. Merging [[Perform]] had been a bit of a lightbulb moment. It hadn''t just merged the Skills; it preserved every scrap of knowledge and muscle memory the System had blessed me with from them. Hanging onto every detail of [Juggling] despite its absence from my Skill list was a true revelation. It dawned on me that levelling up skills evenly before fusing them was the way to go. This strategy promised the best of both worlds: The nuanced downloads from each Skill pre-merge and the broader strokes of knowledge post-merge for the Combo-Skill. This left me in a bind over merging [Blades] and [Knives], given [Blades]'' pitiful level one status versus [Knives]'' impressive mid-level three stride. ''Might as well wait till [Knives] hits level four, at the very least...'' So there I was, stuck in a mental loop, pondering potential merges without making any headway. ''System, you''re a heartless fucking jailer,'' I silently lamented, railing against the digital warden of my skill set. ''Torture. Pure torture, I say!'' My pleas fell on deaf bytes, the System entirely indifferent to my distress. ¡®Alright¡­ If we aren¡¯t combining anything right now¡­ Then Discard is the only other option available,¡¯ I finally yielded, realising that I¡¯d have to do something to move forward with my life or be stuck in the current situation forever¡ªthe mere thought sending shivers down my spine. Trapped in my own mind, unable to connect with anything beyond, felt like the ultimate nightmare-level horror story playing out in real time. Yet, dwelling on this bleak reality wasn''t an option I entertained for long. Instead, my thoughts fast-forwarded to the pressing matter of making a choice. ¡®It''s gotta be [Drawing], right? I¡¯ll hardly ever use it. Not really useful for me in my current life, I don¡¯t think? Sure, it might have some interesting Perks down the line, but something''s gotta give...¡¯ Of all the skills in my arsenal, [Drawing] seemed the most expendable. [Accounting] and [Lip-Reading] were also on the chopping block, but those felt like they could be useful in some niche situations. Plus, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I might be vastly underestimating [Accounting]. Given the corporate- and credit-driven world I was in, knowing one''s way around numbers could end up being invaluable. ¡®[Accounting] has to be more than just budgeting. It''s not the time to ditch it,¡¯ I mused, sensing there were layers to it I hadn¡¯t explored yet. I¡¯d have to stick with it at least until I got the first or second knowledge download, just to make sure. I wavered, my mind doing somersaults over the decision, but each time I landed back at square one: [Drawing] was the expendable one. Dropping to 30/30 skills was a compromise I was willing to make for now, keeping [Lip-Reading] as a backup discard option for the future. Its utility could increase with Levels, but for the moment, it wasn''t serving any immediate purpose. ¡®Discarding isn¡¯t the end. I can always bring it back if I regret this,¡¯ I reassured myself, trying to lighten the mood. The possibility of regret always loomed over decisions like these, yet I reminded myself of the flexibility the System allowed. ¡®Stay light on your feet, Sera. It¡¯s just a step, not a leap off a cliff.¡¯ With those thoughts, I punched in the information.
[System]: Do you really want to Discard the following Skill: [Drawing]? [System]: The Skill will be subsequently Locked and will be unable to be gotten again, until specifically Unlocked by User. [System]: Discard [Drawing]? Y / N
Hitting the confirmation quickly, as if that would somehow make it easier, like ripping off a band-aid of sorts, I immediately closed the System Interface, feeling my body return to normal almost instantaneously.
[System]: [Drawing] Skill has been removed from User. [System]: [Drawing] Skill has been added to list of Locked Skills and will be unable to be obtained again until Unlocked.
I breathed a sigh of relief, now feeling my chest lift up and down as I breathed again, something I hadn¡¯t felt at all over the past¡­ Well since I ¡°woke up¡±. I had no idea how much time had actually passed, but I couldn¡¯t remember taking a single breath, nor hearing a single one of my heartbeats, as I was contemplating the Skill issue. ¡®It really did accelerate my thought process a lot, huh?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think, as I slowly acclimated myself with my own body again, making sure everything was where I thought it should be. The one thing I did not, however, was open my eyes¡ªor eye, now. The memory of my eye being savagely torn out haunted me, making the idea of opening my remaining eye daunting. My fear wasn''t just about the loss of sight; it was about the broader implications. In my previous life, any form of disability felt like a societal death sentence, complicating job prospects and social interactions due to misconceptions about one''s capabilities. The fear of waking up disabled, potentially leading to homelessness or worse, was a nightmare scenario I had always dreaded and that had kept me up at night more than I would care to admit. But I reminded myself, ''This world is different. With advancements in cybernetics, bionics, and genetics, a temporary disability shouldn''t be a major setback. I''ll find a way to afford the necessary repairs¡­ I¡¯m sure of it,'' With this thought, I mustered the courage to attempt opening my eye, ready to face whatever awaited me. As I gingerly opened my eyes, bracing for a disorienting haze or a void where my vision should have been, I was met with a startling revelation¡ªmy vision seemed entirely unchanged. ''Is this really how it feels?'' I pondered in awe, marvelling at the resilience and adaptability of the human brain, how swiftly it adjusted to the loss, compensating for the absence of an eye with such seamless efficiency that it momentarily fooled me into feeling whole. My brief wonderment at human biology''s marvels was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. Footsteps that sounded eerily fast and purposeful. I took this fleeting moment of solitude to survey the room I was in, trying to figure out just what exactly was going on. It was sterile and functional, with the blank, white walls of a medical facility, illuminated by the soft, ambient light that cast no shadows, making the room feel almost ethereal. Beside the bed I lay in were various medical instruments and monitors, some mirroring the ones I had seen when I had first awoken in this world, their screens flickering with a calming, rhythmic cadence that mirrored the stillness of the room. Before I could take in more details though, the door burst open, admitting a figure whose attire screamed ''medical professional,'' with the pristine white coat and the calm yet focused demeanour characteristic of someone accustomed to emergencies. His presence filled the room with a sudden urgency, pulling me back from my contemplations to the reality of my situation and the immediate concern for my well-being. His puzzled expression left me slightly bewildered, as I locked eyes with the doctor, whose look of astonishment mirrored my own internal confusion. "Um, hi...?" I managed, the uncertainty in his voice echoing the turmoil of thoughts swirling within me. ¡°Ehh¡­ Hello, Miss Vildea¡­? Are you¡­ Are you alright?¡± "I mean, should I not be okay?" I countered, striving to maintain a calm facade despite the whirlwind of questions raging in my mind. ''Did Miss K spill the beans about my bizarre situation?'' I speculated wildly, already devising desperate escape plans, though deep down, I knew I stood no chance if this was some secretive corporate lab. "No, no, it''s not like that at all! It''s just... I''m relieved, really," he clarified hastily, adopting a more professional tone that provided a small measure of reassurance. "Your sudden awakening took us by surprise, considering the emergency signals we were getting from your aEEG. But, seeing you conscious and coherent now suggests it might''ve just been a glitch with the equipment..." The middle-aged doctor, with his expression of mild surprise gradually easing into professional curiosity, took my hesitant nod as consent and proceeded with the examination. "Excellent, let''s ensure everything''s in order, then," he murmured, his tone imbued with a reassuring professionalism that somewhat alleviated my underlying anxiety about the whole situation. Approaching me with a compact penlight, he began by carefully illuminating my left eye, observing the reaction of my pupil. Given its cybernetic nature, I wondered if he''d notice anything amiss, but my concerns were unfounded. The doctor seemed well-versed in distinguishing between the natural responses of my brain reacting to the stimulus and the artificial responses of the cybernetic eye, his scrutiny meticulous but not overly invasive. Transitioning smoothly, he then directed the beam towards my right side, repeating the process with a keen eye for any discrepancy. Throughout, he peppered me with questions¡ªabout any discomfort, changes in my field of vision, or peculiarities in my perception. His inquiries were methodical, aimed at comprehensively assessing my condition without causing any undue distress. I found myself answering with a straightforward honesty; there was no deviation in my experience to report. The simplicity and routine nature of the exam, reminiscent of those cranial nerve exam ASMR videos that had lulled me to sleep in another life all so often, lent a surreal edge to the reality of my situation. Despite the calm it evoked, I couldn''t shake the feeling of being on the precipice of something unknown, teetering between relief and apprehension as I awaited the doctor''s final verdict. The revelation that both my eyes were operational sent me into a whirlwind of confusion. "Hold up, you mean both my eyes?" I couldn''t mask the bewilderment in my voice, prompting the doctor to give me a puzzled look, as though I''d suddenly started speaking in riddles. Carefully, I tested my sight by alternately shutting each eye, fully expecting a plunge into darkness with the closure of my left eye. However, to my astonishment, my view merely shifted, undimmed, as I peered through my right eye alone. "Wait¡­ What?!" I exclaimed louder than intended, my surprise causing the doctor to startle. Without thinking, my fingers flew to my face, probing the eye socket and the nasal bridge, which elicited a sharp twinge of pain. "Yikes, that stings!" I winced, recoiling from my own touch. The doctor''s response was swift, his tone laced with a mix of caution and mild reprimand, "Please, Miss Vildea, avoid disturbing your surgical site! It''s too soon for such a rigorous examination!" His concern halted my impromptu self-assessment, and he fetched a small, enigmatic black cube from my bedside table. After a brief interaction with the device that seemed to activate it, he extended it towards me with an offer of a mirror. ''Surgery? I had surgery?'' The thought ricocheted through my mind, halting my movements as the doctor watched, a wave of relief passing over him once I ceased my self-prodding. As he handed me the cube, now functioning as a mirror, curiosity overtook my initial shock. ''A reconstruction... because of training?'' I mulled over the words, my gaze fixed on my reflection. Despite the evident surgery scars crisscrossing the bridge of my nose and encircling the socket of my right eye, where I vividly remembered Kenzie''s claws performing their gruesome ballet, my eye was intact¡ªmiraculously staring back at me. "H-how is this even possible?" I stammered, barely above a whisper, lost in the reflection of my own incredulous eyes. ¡°You are one of Miss Kanis¡¯ students,¡± he simply said, as if that explained everything. When I returned his answer with a blank stare, he seemed to catch the hint and elaborated further. ¡°Ahh¡­! The Arkion Dojo is a long-standing institution of Ether Labs. It is one of the foremost training grounds for young scions and as such, naturally has a tight connection with several medical facilities owned by Ether Labs. While Miss Kanis¡¯ courses cost quite a pretty sum, if I may be so free to admit, there is a very good reason for that: All-Encompassing medical insurance.¡± My face remained completely blank, this time from sheer disbelief, rather than failure to understand, but this nuance seemed to evade the good doctor. ¡°...What I mean to say is this: You were brought in here with severe injuries and a missing eye as a direct result of your training under Miss Kanis, which means you were eligible for a full reconstruction surgery, as well as a replacement for the cybernetic part you lost¡ªnamely, your eye. This was all done in accordance with the paperwork you signed when initially joining the Arkion Dojo, I assure you; but if you would rather check the legal documents yourself, you can request a copy of all documents pertaining to your enrolment, as well as your injury and subsequent medical procedures from the Arkion Dojo itself. They will gladly oblige any and all requests to double-check everything.¡± He was downright pleading now for me to understand what was going on, which seemed a bit overly dramatic for a doctor interacting with a patient at first, but then, something he said finally struck me. ¡®He¡­ He thinks I¡¯m a scion of some super-important family with deep ties to Ether Labs¡­! That¡¯s why he¡¯s acting so strange!¡¯ I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what level on the corporate ladder Valeria was at, but I was pretty certain she wasn¡¯t that high on it, to have me be considered a scion of anything; really. The whole situation was quite perplexing, but I wasn¡¯t going to be the one to break the truth to the doctor. After all, maybe I could even use this innocent misunderstanding to my advantage somehow¡­? Chapter 57 - Scion ¡°Very well,¡± I replied, slowly ramping up my haughty tone in my voice to lean a bit more into the scion-of-an-important-family look. ¡°When can I leave this place, then? And where am I, anyway?¡± I figured that I might gain some information or, at the very least, some [Deception] experience if I played my cards right here. ¡°Unfortunately, we will require you to stay with us for at least a day, in order to make sure that there are no adverse effects from the surgery and your injuries are on the right track for healing up properly, Miss Vildea. My sincerest apologies,¡± the doctor replied with a deep, apologetic bow. ¡°As for where you are, Miss Vildea, I am afraid I can¡¯t disclose the exact location without explicit authorization, but rest assured that you are safely located on the 78th floor of Delta. Once you are discharged, you will be able to return to your residence post-haste.¡± It was honestly extremely embarrassing and awkward to be treated like this, but I tried my best to hide my discomfort as much as I could. Having the dingy-old apartment be called a ¡°residence¡± especially felt completely out of relation. It almost felt like a strange sort of roleplay experience in a theme-park of sorts, more so than a real-life encounter with another human being. ¡®I guess that¡¯s just how it is for those rich people, huh¡­? They just live their lives while everyone around them RPs subserviency for them?¡¯ I exaggerated a sigh, making it seem like this whole ordeal was a major inconvenience, though in reality, the prospect of a medical check-up was somewhat comforting after the battering I endured. There was no telling the extent of the damage I had endured from Kenzie¡¯s brutal onslaught. "Very well, it can''t be helped, I suppose," I said, dismissing the situation with a flick of my wrist, though inside, I was curious about the medical findings. Then, an idea sparked. Locking eyes with the doctor, I ventured, "I trust arrangements have been made to ensure I won''t succumb to boredom during my convalescence here?" His eager nod encouraged me to push further before he could even detail the room''s amenities, which I presumed were the standard, uninspiring fare¡ªand I really did not want to spend even another second watching Cyberpunk television. "In that case, I''d appreciate access to a selection of info-shards, particularly those covering legal, corporate rights, accounting, and negotiation tactics. Really, anything you can get your hands on would suffice. It seems like an opportune moment to continue my studies, since I¡¯m already confined to this room," I suggested, already diving into my cerebral interface, my eyes emitting the familiar blue glow of cybernetic activity. Caught off guard by my abrupt pivot to scholarly pursuits, the doctor hesitated only for a moment before recovering. Recognizing the implied dismissal, he chose not to challenge my request or disturb my feigned preoccupation with research, and promptly excused himself. I really hoped that manoeuvre worked. Snagging some of those info-shards would be a game-changer. Sure, it might mean needing to juggle my Skill slots again, but the possibility of diving into [Law] or [Corporate Rights] seemed too good to pass up, especially given the current circumstances. I had also toyed with the idea of requesting shards on anything regarding Spirits, but had quickly shelved it. Given that Spirits hadn''t popped up in my prior gaming experiences with Neon Dragon¡¯s playthroughs or in this reality, until Miss K''s cryptic mention, it seemed like a topic I wasn''t meant to dive into just yet. Kenzie''s vague hints, courtesy of her sister''s forbidden knowledge, had only solidified my decision further. ''Considering her casual drop of info, Kenzie''s background must be leagues beyond mine too. No need for discounts for dojo entry in her world¡­ So if even she doesn¡¯t have access to that kind of info, I doubt I could simply request it without raising major flags,'' I pondered, the System''s interface hovering before me. A sudden realisation hit me then¡ªI should''ve inquired if my family had been notified. Gabriel, in particular, would be on edge if I vanished without a trace for days on-end. Given Sera¡¯s...my track record, his concern would be well-founded. Deciding to keep everyone in the loop, I quickly shot off a message to the rest of the family, just to ease any potential worries. [¡°Just so you know, I''m at an Ether Labs hospital for a quick once-over. The Arkion Dojo doesn''t mess around, but I''m all good! Planning on bouncing back home tomorrow, barring any weirdness from the docs.¡±] Oliver''s response popped up almost instantly. [¡°Awesome to hear you''re okay! Val and I were clued in about your hospital visit, but it''s good to hear it straight from you. Take care, Sera! Love ya!¡±] I mentally rolled my eyes. ''Of course, they''d know already...'' But it was always better to play it safe, particularly with Valeria in the picture. Crossing her accidentally? Definitely not on my list of to-dos. As I awaited the doctor''s return, curious if my slight performance had nudged him to fetch the info-shards I requested, I let my gaze wander more thoroughly through the room. It was quite similar to any hospital room I''d ever encountered, but familiarising myself more with the space seemed wise. My attention was quickly caught by the bedside table, however, the very spot the doctor had sourced that intriguing mirror-cube from, where I noticed an unknown data-shard resting. "Huh," I voiced softly, curiosity piqued as I reached out, the shard feeling cool and substantial in my grasp. I inspected it closely, flipping it in my fingers, pondering its purpose. ''This couldn''t have been left here by mere chance, not with the meticulous attention to patient care evident here... But then, what is it for¡­? And who left it for me?'' Despite my scrutiny, the shard bore no visible clues or identifiers whatsoever. ''I remember the cardinal rule against indiscriminately using found USBs, but surely this scenario is different, right? After all, it seems intentionally left for me to find...'' With a mix of caution and curiosity, I tentatively aligned the shard with my neck-slot, contemplating the leap of faith. Considering any potential side-effects, which could range from data-breaches to daemons, I couldn¡¯t help but feel anxious. ¡®There¡¯s no way this is a malicious shard, Sera. You¡¯re inside some kind of high-tech hospital owned by Ether Labs. The shit-show that would be kicked off if a scion of some rich family got a daemon from such a facility would be insane,'' I rationalised, trying to calm down my anxiously beating heart. It still wasn¡¯t the smartest thing to slot in a random data-shard, but there were definitely levels of ¡°it¡¯s probably safe¡± here that I couldn¡¯t simply ignore. Also: I was extremely curious what might be on it. With a swift motion, I slotted the data-shard into my neck, feeling a brief surge of heat as the in-built ICE of my slot scanned the shard for anything malicious. Naturally, it was an extremely rudimentary check, considering the low-quality of the slot I had, but feeling the ICE go to work was definitely a big help in calming down my anxiety about this whole operation. A moment later, the shard cleared as expected and I was greeted by a small slew of files. The moment I laid eyes on the file names, realisation dawned on me. The initial file was clearly labelled [Contact Details: Selene Kanis], straightforward in its purpose. Opening it, Miss K''s contact information seamlessly integrated into my cerebral interface. The intrigue deepened with the next file, [To Sera]. Opening it revealed a personal message:
[Sera, following our intense training session, you''ve been taken to Ether Labs ExoClinic on the 78th floor. Rest easy knowing you''re in capable hands, ready to address any and all damages from today. Your performance was nothing short of remarkable for someone without augmentations, and I''m keen to see your progress in the sessions ahead. Kenzie has expressed a wish for her contact details to be shared with you, facilitating communication outside of our training environment. This gesture is purely optional and not a prerequisite for your continued participation at the Arkion Dojo. It''s merely a step towards fostering a camaraderie between you two, should you choose to take it. I implore you to take your recovery seriously. The most sophisticated treatments at the ExoClinic will only go so far without your cooperation. I will not go easy on you, should you have wasted this chance at a full recovery before your next appointment; and I doubt the other students will either. Aside from that, do consider thinking about the fights you¡¯ve had with Kenzie and try to figure out where you might have gone wrong. The amount of damage you have sustained would not be sustainable in a real-life scenario, so focus on what defensive or evasive actions you could have taken and how you can improve upon that in the future. That is all for now. Do let me know if anything comes up or if you have any to report in regards to our agreement, whenever. I have attached my own contact details in a separate file on this shard.]
The message simply ended abruptly at that and bore the signature "Grandmaster Martial Arts Instructor, Selene Kanis," prompting a mix of surprise and admiration from me. The revelation of Miss K''s title genuinely took me by surprise. Until now, she had modestly omitted any mention of her rank, making the discovery of her being a Grandmaster rather than a Master, which in itself was already extremely impressive, both awe-inspiring and startling. In the world of Neon Dragons, titles hadn¡¯t just been honorary; they had signified achievements loaded with tangible perks and were notoriously tough to obtain. Achieving a Master title was a feat I had yet to witness firsthand; the let''s plays I had seen never ventured deep enough into the game''s progression for such an accolade, the requirements being dauntingly high for most early to mid-game characters. Titles spanned a hierarchy of expertise across nine distinct levels: Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Adept, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Legend, and Transcendent. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Each level not only came with its own set of rigorous challenges and achievement criteria but also unlocked unique rewards and privileges, escalating downright exponentially in value and impact as one ascended the ranks. Discovering Miss K''s rank as a Grandmaster was an absolute bombshell. In all of Neon Dragons, the only character I''d ever heard of reaching Master or beyond was Kill Joy, who had risen to the ultimate rank of Transcendent through his groundbreaking contributions to netrunning, programming, and hacking. He was a literal living legend in the game, and aside from him, I hadn''t even been aware of any Master-rank NPCs, let alone interacted with one. And here was Miss K, not just a Master, but a Grandmaster in Martial Arts. That was not just impressive; it was downright frightening. ¡®I¡¯m extremely glad that I didn¡¯t mess up when she cornered me about the System¡¯s weirdness. That could have ended up being far worse than I had initially thought¡­ Losing out on instruction from a Grandmaster would be downright churlish,¡¯ I thought to myself. Reeling from the revelation that my instructor was a Grandmaster, my brain buzzed with one persistent question that I just couldn''t shake off. ''How on earth did Valeria get Gabriel and me into this dojo? Just what is her role at Ether Labs that she can casually wield such insane levels of influence? As her daughter, I''m entirely clueless about her job, which seems off. Shouldn''t I have at least a basic idea of what she even does¡­?¡¯ My musing was interrupted by the sudden opening of my room door, which made me quit out of my interface in surprise. ¡°Miss Vildea, I have brought the requested info-shards for you,¡± declared a young man, poised at the doorway, blending expectation with deference in his gaze. It dawned on me embarrassingly late that he awaited an invite to enter, a social nicety I hadn¡¯t really taken to seriously exist outside of TV dramas. Attempting to stay in character as a distinguished scion, I magnanimously gestured for him to come in, closely watching his reaction to gauge if I pulled off the demeanour convincingly. He promptly approached, keeping his eyes close to the ground as he did so, placing a tray with three data-shards on my desk, then executed a deep bow and made a swift exit. Pausing momentarily at the doorway, he added, ¡°If there is anything else you require, Miss, please do not hesitate to summon me. Your Multi Tool directly connects to me for any needs during your stay.¡± And with that, he was already gone, the door whispering shut behind him. Pondering over the young man''s parting words, I scoured the room for anything that might fit the description of a "Multi Tool." The room wasn''t exactly brimming with objects, leading my gaze to swiftly land on the sleek, black mirror cube the doctor previously used to show me my reflection. ''This must be the Multi Tool then, right?'' I mused, recalling its initial appearance, that had later morphed into the mirror-like object it now was. I picked up the cube, which I had nonchalantly tossed aside into the blanket folds after inspecting my repaired features. Delicately exploring it for any sort of interactive feature, I jumped a bit when a connection request suddenly popped up on my interface. With a tentative confirmation, I was introduced to an app-like interface brimming with functionalities the cube offered, far beyond its initial use as a mirror. ''Aha, this must be the way to make requests around here.'' I quickly scanned through the myriad of available services. From gourmet food delivery, a selection of entertainment mediums, scheduled medical examinations, to the more luxurious offers like massage therapy and even psychological counselling¡ªthis place had it all. ''Incredible... Had hospitals in my previous life offered even half these amenities, maybe their stupid fucking fees would have seemed slightly more reasonable... Staying occupied for a day here shouldn''t be a problem at all. Honestly, I wouldn''t mind extending my stay for a bit longer either, given these perks...'' As I sifted through the data-shards delivered by my attendant, a surge of anticipation washed over me. The shards were meticulously marked, aligning almost perfectly with my earlier requests: [Corporate Rights], [General Law], and [Accounting]. The absence of anything on negotiation tactics slightly dampened my spirits, but the bounty before me was more than enough to quell any real disappointment. After all, it''s not every day you find such a wealth of knowledge readily available in a hospital setting¡ªplaces not exactly renowned for doubling as educational hubs. With an enthusiasm bordering on zeal, I eagerly slotted in the [Corporate Rights] shard, immediately after integrating Kenzie''s contact information into my database and clearing out the shard from Miss K. I was immediately inundated with a deluge of texts, videos, and diagrams, each beckoning with the promise of arcane knowledge yet simultaneously daunting in their complexity. ¡®Oh Jesus christ¡­ What the fuck was I thinking?!¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but lament my poor decisions. ¡®Why exactly did I think that corporate rights, of all things, was going to be the thing I should get into studying while I was here for a day? Am I actually insane?¡¯ My previous life had taught me well; any aspect of law was a labyrinthine beast, notoriously difficult to tame. With the added complexity of a world literally governed by omnipotent corporations, I had inadvertently set myself up for an intellectual Herculean task by choosing corporate rights as my first avenue of attack. Confronted with a seemingly inscrutable web of legal principles, I dedicated a few moments to filter and sort the deluge of information into a more digestible format, using the filter options available in the shard. A semblance of order emerged, offering a trio of introductory files as potential springboards into the vast sea of corporate legality. However, a realisation dawned on me immediately: ''One day is hardly enough to even begin to scratch the surface on this stuff...'' The depth and breadth of just the introductory materials made clear that a thorough understanding of corporate rights would be a long-term commitment, far exceeding my temporary access to these resources. Feeling somewhat deflated, I swapped the overwhelming legal shard for the [Accounting] one, hoping for a simpler entry point. Switching to [Law] didn¡¯t appeal, of course, as it would likely have just been a repeat of the prior disappointment. This new shard, however, unfolded into a slightly more navigable flowchart right off the bat, easing some of my apprehension. ''This might be doable...'' Encouraged by the structured layout, I quickly pinpointed where to begin my self-study after a few filters had been applied. Nestled in the hospital''s surprisingly plush bed, I immersed myself in the principles of accounting, deliberately avoiding use of the Rest Function to prevent any premature healing that might prompt unwanted questions; questions that I had no way of answering this deep in Ether Labs¡¯ territory. With countless hours at my disposal and confined to the clinic, I was determined to unravel the mysteries of [Accounting], beyond mere budgeting basics, while awaiting further medical evaluation and my eventual release¡­
Over the next several hours, I dove into the surprisingly complex world of accounting, far removed from my initial assumption of it being mere budgeting. Accounting, I discovered, was an intricate tapestry of financial strategy, tax planning, and resource management. It was like saying jogging was just moving faster than walking; true on the surface but missing the vast depths beneath. As the final piece of experience clicked into place, unlocking the first level of understanding and the wave of new knowledge flooded in, I couldn''t help but mentally extend my sincerest apologies to every accountant I had ever underestimated. This exploration had revealed a thoroughly rich and nuanced field, one that wove through the fabric of both personal and corporate finance with surprising depth and sophistication, even at the very basic level that I was still sifting through. As the System¡¯s Notifications appeared, I felt the Knowledge Download barge its way into my brain.
[System]: 600xp gained for [Accounting] Skill. [System]: [Accounting] has reached Level 1.
The very foundation of this download was the principle of double-entry bookkeeping, a revelation in itself. This method ensures that for every financial transaction, two entries were made: One debit and one credit. It was a dance of numbers where every step was mirrored, ensuring the accounting equation remained balanced at all times. This wasn¡¯t merely a method of tracking; it was a system designed to maintain the integrity of financial records, a concept I had clearly vastly underestimated before. Another, similarly striking concept introduced was cost accounting, an area focusing on calculating the true costs of business operations, products, and processes. This wasn''t about jotting down expenses or tallying up costs on a superficial level as I had been doing so far. Instead, it delved into analysing these costs and truly understanding where the costs came from to make informed, strategic decisions aimed at improving efficiency and boosting profitability. Here, accounting transformed from a simple ledger-keeping task to a critical tool for decision-making, offering insights into how resources could be optimised, whether for a business or an individual''s financial management; even within the limited confines of a megabuilding such as for myself. Contrasting sharply with my prior assumptions, accounting revealed itself to be a thoroughly multifaceted discipline, intertwined with strategic planning and operational management. I quickly realised that I could likely apply these types of cost accounting principles to even my daily expenditures, potentially identifying areas where savings could be made or investments optimised. ¡®It will probably take a while to really get a grasp on this, but anything that can save me Creds is an absolutely top-tier investment in my books¡­ It¡¯s like unlocking a permanent discount for every store in a video game, of sorts.¡¯ Moreover, the concept of accrual accounting introduced the notion that financial events were recognized by matching revenues to expenses at the time the transaction occurs, not when payment was made or received. This perspective could radically change how I viewed my own financial transactions within the megabuilding, enabling a more accurate representation of my financial status over time. Essentially, instead of waiting to have the Credits on-hand, I could leverage the debt incurred by me providing a service as the Credits themselves, if I went about it the right way. This could help alleviate some of my short-term monetary shortcomings, if I managed to find enough ways to provide value to a large enough subset of people; even if they didn¡¯t necessarily pay up immediately. Armed with this initial swath of knowledge, I began to see [Accounting] not just as a mere task or a necessary evil of financial management but I started to see it more as a powerful lens through which the world¡¯s financial intricacies could be understood and navigated with more freedom, if I was willing to put in the effort required. The Skill was not just about numbers; it was about the strategic allocation of all types of resources in a way that maximised their utility and efficiency, I know recognized. Whether planning my budget within the megabuilding, evaluating the cost-effectiveness of various expenditures, or simply managing day-to-day finances, the basic principles of accounting now finally appeared as invaluable tools in my arsenal going forward. ¡®That was a lot¡­¡¯ I thought as I closed the interface displaying the shard¡¯s information. I knew that I had barely scratched the surface of what [Accounting] had to offer, not simply because I hadn¡¯t even finished the first document on the shard, but also because the initial level of the knowledge download had broadened my understanding wide enough, that I now realised just how little I actually knew about it. ¡®I¡¯ll have to try and smuggle these shards out with me,¡¯ I resolved, looking at the two info-shards still laying on the tray next to my bed. ¡®Trying to learn all of this on my own would take months, if not years. At the very least, I should try just walking out with them. I can always feign ignorance, if somebody stops me and asks me about them. Nobody specifically said I couldn¡¯t take them with me once I left, after all.¡¯ As I stashed the two shards securely within the folds of my hospital gown, ensuring they were close at hand should any unforeseen circumstances arise, a subtle rumble of hunger echoed through the quietude of my room, breaking the somewhat eerie silence that had dominated the room over the past hours. Leveraging the capabilities of the Multi Tool, I decided to indulge in an eclectic mix of dishes, casting a wide net in my culinary choices while simultaneously summoning the room''s entertainment system to life. The sudden immersion in deep, pulsating beats sent a wave of surprise coursing through me; this room''s sound system was unparalleled by any I had encountered in my previous life, an unexpected luxury in a hospital setting. Navigating through the musical offerings took a brief moment, but I eventually settled into the familiar yet always intriguing Cyberpunk-esque melodies that had been my soundtrack since arriving in this new world. The vibrant rhythms infused me with an invigorating sense of vitality, a much-appreciated boost considering the marathon study session I had ahead. With a significant portion of the day still unfurling before me and my usual temporal shortcut via the Rest Function off the table, I knew I had to make the most of the time available. My impromptu dinner soon made its way to me, and with nourishment guaranteed to be on its way, I plunged back into the depths of the [Accounting] shard. This time, however, I approached it with a renewed vigour and a sharper understanding of the concepts it presented. The terms and principles now resonated with a clearer meaning, thanks to the foundational knowledge recently embedded in my mind. My objective was clear: To absorb as much [Accounting] expertise as possible while this trove of information was still at my fingertips¡­ [Announcement] Notice of release delay until April 29th Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! Unfortunately with another sad news, as I need to announce another delay on upcoming chapters for around a week. As I mentioned during the last delay at the beginning of this month and after taking a lot of your (very kind) feedback into consideration, I''ve decided to implement a "release-delay week" into my schedule going forward. What that means, specifically, is that there will be one week (maybe every month or every 2nd month, not sure about the frequency yet), where I won''t be releasing chapters for neither RoyalRoad nor Patreon. I will still write during that time, but those chapters will go into the backlog so I have a bit more leeway on sick days and days where work is extremely stressful. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. This was the idea featured under the "How to prevent this in the future?" section from the last Announcement Post covering this and was predominently considered the best course of action by all of you. As such, I will be taking this one-week off from releasing chapters, in order to stock back up on backlog chapters for rainy days in the future. I hope that this one week will be enough for quite a while, but if, by next month around the same time, it proves that it is not, I might implement a week-off as a monthly thing going forward. More on that in future announcements. --- The next ND chapter will release on Monday, April 29th. I sincerely apologise for this renewed delay on new releases; I know it''s getting annoying. I''m probably even more annoyed at this than you are, trust me! :( --- Thank you all SO much for the continued, extremely generous and kind support on all of my novels. It''s truly a humbling and extremely enjoyable experience to provide these stories for all of you and I can''t wait to get into some of the next chapters with all y''all. That said, I''ll be seeing you guys next week. Thank you for your patience! Chapter 58 - Priorities Tackling the [Accounting] Skill proved to be an endeavour filled with interruptions, as the doctor made his rounds to my room with the frequency of a worried parent, each time armed with a battery of questions and cognitive checks. He was determined to ensure the newly installed cybernetic eye was syncing well with my system, and that the dojo''s harsh regimen hadn''t left any lasting scars; the latter potentially even being more important to him than the proper synching of my eye, if his insistent checks on my wounds were anything to go by. Thankfully, all systems were go, and roughly six hours after I initially blinked my eyes open in this high-tech infirmary, the doc gave me the green light for discharge. "So, Miss Vildea," he began, clearly ready to wrap up my brief medical sojourn, "it appears your time under our care is concluding, provided you''re feeling strong enough to leave. Would you like us to arrange some kind of transportation for you, or perhaps there''s someone you''d prefer to call to pick you up?" "I''m good to go," I curtly responded, choking back the automatic ''thank you'' bubbling up. Had to keep up the fa?ade of the entitled scion, after all; gratitude was probably not a currency they traded in, if the Neon Dragons¡¯ playthroughs I had watched were anything to go by. "Where are my clothes?" Quick as a flash, the doctor gestured to the attendant who had earlier brought me the shards, the same young man, who then stepped out only to return in a flash with my attire, neatly folded and ready for my departure. The doctor informed me with a courteous bow, ¡°Your clothes have been meticulously cleaned and repaired by the specialists at Ether Labs. They are, I assure you, in pristine condition once again, Miss Vildea.¡± ''Well, there goes my chance at nabbing some [Tailoring] experience... Not that I''m cut out for stitching and sewing, especially not on the dojo''s high-end gear,'' I mused internally, taking the clothes with an elegance I hardly felt. Rising from the bed, I moved towards the exit, determined to make my departure as smooth and swift as a whisper. My aim? To slip away before the medical staff had time to dwell on the data-shards they''d lent me all snugly hidden by the chic fabric of the hospital gown or the one still nestled within my neck-slot. "Appreciate all you''ve done," I offered, managing a polite bow. It struck me that even a highborn might drop a thank-you here and there, right? Without further ado, I pivoted on my heel, striding through the doors as they parted for me, eager to leave the clinic''s hallowed halls behind. My heart was hammering against my chest like a drum solo, giving me that rush you''d imagine Danny Ocean felt mid-heist. I was mentally chanting a mantra that could''ve been the chorus of a rebellious punk song as I did so: ¡®Don¡¯t call out for me. Don¡¯t ask me anything. Don¡¯t look at me.¡¯ It was my attempt at psyching myself into maintaining the casual swagger of someone who definitely hadn''t just pocketed intel that didn¡¯t belong to me whatsoever. Navigating the floor¡¯s corridors felt like tiptoeing through a maze designed by a particularly sadistic architect. Unlike any other floor I''d explored in this behemoth of a building, this one had an unmistakably alien vibe. It was less "walking through a futuristic cityscape" and more "am I accidentally on board an alien spacecraft?" The corridors were a study in claustrophobia, all narrow and dressed in shades of grey that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. And speaking of light, there was this eerie glow everywhere, kind of like the soft luminescence of bioluminescent fish deep underwater, except there wasn''t a single lightbulb or LED in sight to account for it. As for doors or storefronts? Forget about it. The place was as monotonous as a lecture on paint drying, until it wasn''t. Just when I''d resigned myself to the idea that this floor was just endless, featureless corridors, about thirty metres ahead of me, the wall itself suddenly split open. No fanfare, no sound, just a section of the wall sliding apart like the entrance to a secret chamber in a spy movie. Out popped one of the floor''s locals, moving with a purpose, before vanishing as quickly as they''d appeared. I didn¡¯t even have time to recover from my surprise and get a good look at them, before they had already disappeared. ¡®This place is fucking creepy¡­¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think. While there was nothing particularly scary about it, the sheer strangeness of it all sent shivers down my spine at regular intervals. Despite that, I kept up my meandering pace, weaving through the hallways with no real plan other than to avoid being predictable and getting to the closest elevators¡ªwhich I actually knew the location of, as I had snagged a look at the floor¡¯s layout during my [Accounting] Skill-grind in the hospital earlier. The young attendant had been kind enough to provide a copy of the basic floor plan, which was now displayed in the corner of my field of view, courtesy of my cybernetic eyes. Throwing in a few random lefts and rights, I moved like I was trying to lose someone tailing me. Not that I expected the run-of-the-mill staff here to start a high-speed chase, but you know, playing it safe. Better to be the mysterious figure slipping unnoticed through the shadows than the clueless tourist caught on camera, right? When I finally hit what felt like the home stretch, as I finally caught a glimpse of the characteristically black double-doors that indicated the entrance to the restricted elevators, a wave of giddy relief washed over me. ¡®Info-shards, get!¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but mentally high-five myself, doing a quick pat-down to ensure none of the precious cargo had slipped from the confines of my gown. A quick inventory check confirmed they were all snug as bugs. My grin was like a beacon, cutting through the spooky glow of the corridor with enough wattage to power a small concert. I quickly dashed the last few metres into the restricted elevator, hitting the button for my home floor with a bit more force than necessary. Shaking off the residual weirdness like a dog coming in from the rain, I couldn''t escape the feeling that the floor I''d just escaped was marinated in some high-grade corporate fog. It was like they''d pumped the air full of boredom, designed to dull your senses and keep you docile. ''If this is the cream of the crop lifestyle, then thank the stars Valeria''s only got us playing dress-up for those bizarre family dinners, rather than actually living in a rockcrete snoozefest like that one.'' The thought rolled around in my head as the elevator hummed downwards. I had no idea what floor I had even been on, as there was no indicator for the actual number of floors I was on anywhere, but judging by the time it took the elevator to go back down to my home floor, I had been fairly high up. ''But maybe it was just this specific floor that''s so off-putting¡­? It seemed like some kind of VIP hospital or secret research wing for Ether Labs, judging by the sneak peek I got. Maybe the other high-tier floors are more normal¡­'' The whole experience had felt like a preview of a life I was more than happy to skip out on¡­
Rolling back into my apartment after more than a day''s adventure felt like stepping into another world, especially when the clock on my interface cheerily informed me it was just past the stroke of noon. The place was as quiet as a library after hours, confirming my guess that I''d have the run of it solo for a good eight hours more. That''s assuming Oliver or Gabriel decided to grace the place with their presence tonight¡ªOliver, with his knack for turning "overtime" into an extreme sport, was a big question mark as per usual. First order of business? Ditching the high-tech hospital gown. As snazzy as it felt¡ªand honestly, a bit too comfortable for something you''d wear in a medical facility¡ªit wasn''t exactly apartment chic. So, into something a bit more me and less sci-fi patient I hopped. Next up on my task list: The info-shards. "Under the bed sounds about right... Not like we''re running a spy ring out of here or anything," I mumbled to myself. Tucking each shard into its own pair of socks¡ªbecause why not make use of the sock drawer''s mysterious ability to multiply everything but the sock you actually need¡ªI stashed them in a box under the bed. It was a sort of domestic espionage, hiding treasures in plain sight among the rogue laundry. Flopping down on my bed, the familiar comfort of my own space wrapped around me like a warm hug. It was a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal vibe of the hospital floor. Here, the air was full of life, buzzing with the subtle, comforting notes of home¡ªwhich might have been mould or something similar, considering the absolute state of the apartment before I had cleaned it up for my [Maid] Skill training. It was the perfect backdrop to dive into reviewing my Skill gains for [Accounting], a moment of normalcy before figuring out how to spend the rest of my free hours. After all, with secrets stashed under my bed and a whole afternoon ahead of me, the possibilities seemed downright endless.
[System]: 1,300xp gained for [Accounting] Skill. [System]: [Accounting] has reached Level 2. [System]: 500xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
Slugging through the study marathon at the hospital, I actually managed to cram a ton of info into my brain, despite the doc''s best efforts to turn my study session into an episode of "Interruptions Galore." Sure, my ambitions had been sky-high at the start, but then came the inevitable distraction wave, followed closely by the boredom tsunami from looping through the same documents more times than I cared to count. Yet, somehow, I had managed to rally time and again, diving back into the deep end of the info-shard pool without knowing if I''d even be able to sneak them past the hospital staff. Reflecting on the ordeal, I couldn''t help but think, ''Those seemingly endless hours of brain drain? Absolutely worth the XP boost.'' The real game-changer was the knowledge dump I got about an hour before they cut me loose. That download was like hitting the jackpot in understanding the cryptic text I''d been wrestling with. [Accounting] had quickly turned out to be more layered than an onion. Going in, I thought it was all about crunching numbers and maybe some fancy bookkeeping. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. But the more I dove into it, the more I realised it''s got depth, nuances, and shades I hadn''t even considered. While I still hadn''t figured out how to make use of it for my day-to-day or apply my new-found knowledge to my actual life quite yet, each new level unlocked seemed to flick on a lightbulb, showing off just how versatile this Skill really could be. ¡°Note for future me: Figure out what the hell you want to do with [Accounting],¡± I muttered to myself, as I removed the info-shard from my neck-slot. I had almost forgotten it was in there, if it hadn¡¯t been for the System¡¯s Notifications reminding me of the study session. With the administrative tasks done and the info-shard stored with the others, it was time to figure out what I should do for the rest of the day. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± Diving into the world of Skills, it was clear I had my work cut out for me¡ªlike, a mountain''s worth of work. Each of the 30 Skills I''d unlocked was waving at me, promising goodies and game-changers if I gave them some TLC. Some were straight-up magic, tossing me knowledge and muscle-memory enhancements that felt like upgrading my brain and body''s operating system. Others dangled the carrot of ridiculously cool Perks, the kind that could make a big difference in how I played the game of life. The big question? Where to channel my focus. Until now, my approach to Skill development had been... let''s call it ''scattergun.'' I''d been all over the place, trying to juggle levelling up a bit of everything, hoping to become some sort of jack-of-all-trades. But my recent crash course at the Arkion Dojo, and my recent near-death experience with the data-collection task, had thrown a serious wrench in that strategy. It was a series of reality checks that came with bruises, a side of humility and the realisation that I wasn¡¯t as smart as I had initially thought. After getting a taste of just how real the stakes could be¡ªboth courtesy of Kenzie''s claws, and the officer¡¯s guns¡ªit hit me that having access to this whole System thing didn''t exactly slap an "invincible" sticker on my forehead. Especially not when there were folks out there who could turn a single bad move into a visit to the ER, or worse. So, with that sobering thought, it was time to rethink my priorities. Maybe, just maybe, spreading myself too thin wasn''t the way to go after all. So there I was, chin in hand, pondering the big question: ''What''s it really gonna take to not just survive, but really thrive, right now?'' The answer seemed to leap out at me¡ªbeing able to defend myself was key, and not just with more equipment but with the know-how to use whatever was at my disposal effectively. Enter [Martial Arts], my new best friend for the foreseeable future. Thanks to Miss K and the crash course at Arkion Dojo, I had a solid game plan for improvements on that front already lined up. Since training with her came with the sweet deal of the [Mentor Bonus], making each session a goldmine for levelling up, I figured my solo practice time could be spent elsewhere. That wasn''t to say I was going to slack off on my fitness regime, of course. If anything, my recent dive into system research promised to make those daily-morning sweat sessions even more productive. Boosting my Body Attribute wasn''t just about looking good¡ªthough, of course, no complaints there either; for it had already paid off in spades during my scuffle with Kenzie. I had never expected to be straight up stronger than a fox-girl with just my muscles alone, but then again, I had never expected to see a fox-girl in real-life to begin with, so maybe the point was moot altogether. This Also meant doubling down on all the related Skills too, as I had been doing for the past few weeks. [Athletics], [Acrobatics] and the whole suite. Their Skill levels, as well as their Perks, were downright mandatory for anything I would likely end up doing in the future, so neglecting them was not an option either way. On top of everything else, I still had to level up my netrunning skills. Paying back Gabriel wasn''t going to happen by magic, and diving into the digital deep seemed like my golden ticket to racking up those credits. Then there was also my stint at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall... Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure beefing up my [Cooking] skill was going to do much more for me, but hanging out at that stall, away from the usual grind and in the company of the old man, had its own charm. I¡¯d toyed with the idea of ditching the whole gig, especially after the whole mess with ¡°Aki¡±¡ªevery shift there was a reminder of her and her deception. But the thought of bailing on Mr. Shori after everything he did for me and vice-versa just felt wrong. The man was innocent in the drama, after all. As I mentally scrolled through the to-do list in my head¡ªcourtesy of that sneaky [Accounting] skill that was surprisingly already proving useful for organising my life beyond just numbers¡ªI couldn''t help but feel swamped. ¡®There''s barely room to breathe if I wanna hit the hay using the Rest Function without turning into a zombie,¡¯ I mused, a tad overwhelmed. But just going through the motions, ticking off boxes on my Skill list, wasn''t going to cut it any longer. The last data-collection Task had been a wake-up call: I needed a game-changer, a trump card. Something that would not just inch me forward but catapult me into the fast lane. The question was, what? I finally had a eureka moment a few minutes later, when I realised, what I really needed was to rack up more Skill and Perk Points, specifically. Grinding away at my current Skills felt like running on a treadmill¡ªlots of effort and continuous progress, but I wasn''t getting anywhere fast. It was this nagging sensation of lagging behind, even though I couldn''t pinpoint who or what I was actually trailing behind. It''s not like there was some leaderboard, but the feeling was there, gnawing at me. But to bulk up on those points, I had to either up my Character Level or knock out some additional Tasks. Tasks seemed like the golden ticket since they''d not only drop those sweet, sweet points but also boost my Character Experience¡ªa solid win-win. But there-in lay the problem: Figuring out how the System decides to throw Tasks my way seemed downright impossible. Up to now, I''ve snagged exactly two Tasks¡ªone from Mr. Shori and another from Mr. Stirling. Why the System had decided that their requests, specifically, would be classified as Tasks and reward extra things, while something like Valeria¡¯s request for me to do well in the Dojo had not, I had no idea about. I didn¡¯t even know if I could have more than one Task active at a time, which was a consideration that had come up as a result of Valeria¡¯s request not having triggered a Task in my mind before, but something I hadn¡¯t really delved into, as I had been busy getting my face punched in by Kenzie. Back when this was all a game, Quests¡ªthe game''s version of Tasks¡ªwere a dime a dozen. You''d stumble upon them thanks to quest-giving NPCs, easy to track down with a little help from a wiki or a playthrough. Some Quest-NPCs were even hyped up in in-game flyers, pointing players right to them for their next adventure. But this reality? It''s like all those helpful hints and markers got left behind in the game world when this was all changed to be my new real life. I''ve been on the lookout, hoping to stumble upon some sort of sign or lead, but no dice so far. It seemed like whatever System was at play here, it was not handing out Tasks with the same generosity¡ªor at least not in any way that was immediately obvious to me. Mulling it over, I figured the closest thing to a real-life Quest-NPC had to be a Fixer, right? In the simplest of terms, Fixers were like the middlemen of the adventure world. They were the go-betweens, linking up clients with their requests to Operators ready for action. They¡¯d gather all the intel, pick the right team for the job, and then handle all the money matters, smoothing out any wrinkles with the clients so the Operators could just focus on the mission. Handy in all ways, except where they had a near-monopoly on requests, so if you had a falling out with a prominent Fixer, you¡¯d likely be forced to switch areas. The hitch in my plan with Fixers? I was missing two key ingredients: The credentials to even catch a Fixer''s eye, and the faintest clue about how to find one. While the latter could potentially be solved with some dedicated digging, the former was a bigger puzzle. Becoming an Operator wasn¡¯t as easy as signing up for a library card. You needed to buy into the OPN¡ªOperator Private Network¡ªwith a hefty fee and get an existing Operator to vouch for you. Rounding up the Credits might be doable with some elbow grease, but convincing an established Operator to vouch for a fifteen-year-old girl? Yeah, that sounded like trying to scale a mountain in flip-flops. That¡¯s why I had originally slotted it as a ¡®someday¡¯ goal, not something I was planning on tackling right now. But if I wanted to start racking up Tasks quickly¡ªand, by extension, those juicy Skill and Perk Points¡ªgetting into the Operator game seemed like my express lane. Randomly bumping into Task opportunities like I did with Mr. Shori and Mr. Stirling wasn¡¯t exactly a strategy after all; it was luck. And I couldn¡¯t bank on luck to keep my progress going at an accelerating pace. While I wasn¡¯t entirely against the idea of simply grinding out my Skills for the foreseeable future, I had the strong suspicions that I wasn¡¯t going to get the opportunity to do so. Between the whole Task conundrum, the ¡°Aki¡± shenanigans, not to mention the training at the Dojo, and the Corporation theatrics kicking off outside my megabuilding, it felt like things were ramping up. Whether I liked it or not, I was smack in the middle of the action, or at least uncomfortably close to the edge of it. As I pondered my next moves, an actionable game plan finally started to form. ¡®While I''m on the hunt for an Operator to back me, maybe I should laser-focus on Skills that would make a Fixer sit up and take notice...or better yet, catch the eye of a crew of Operators to tag along with,¡¯ I thought to myself. It was a no-brainer, really. Even though I was clueless about where to find my golden ticket into the OPN, beefing up on Skills that screamed ''valuable asset'' seemed like a smart play. This way, I wasn''t just biding my time; I was laying down the groundwork to make a splash, get noticed, and hopefully snag that much-needed vouch. So, it was crystal clear now, which Skills I had to zone in on: Top of the list was anything netrunning related, because, let''s face it, in this digital age, being a wizard online was pretty much gold. Just taking the crew I faced during the data-collection Task as a perfect example, illustrated why it was important: There were a lot more mooks and blanks than there were netrunners, meaning that a netrunning Operator would have a lot more options than one that didn¡¯t even know what a deck was, beyond a valuable piece of tech that could be sold. Then, there was the up-close-and-personal combat stuff¡ªgetting cosy with [Knives], [Blades], or really any sharp or blunt object that can do some damage. Can''t forget about beefing up on dodging, ducking, dipping, diving, and...stealth. Yeah, basically turning into as much of a ninja as I could muster. I had all of this mapped out in a spreadsheet right in my cerebral interface, thanks to my newfound buddy, [Accounting]. Turns out, it was surprisingly good at helping to organise things, even if it didn¡¯t directly involve numbers specifically. But, there was a large gap in my arsenal that was still nagging at me. Thinking back to the data-collection task and where it had all gone wrong, there was a definite, clear issue with my current focus: Range. Long-distance fights were going to be a thing at some stage, and all I''ve currently had were my good looks and sharp objects that I could lob at, admittedly, frightening speeds. A gun would be the easiest thing to level the playing field with, but the idea of me, being a teenager, strutting around packing heat sounded like a one-way ticket to a whole heap of trouble. While picking up a gun could be as easy as pie¡ªassuming my Credits situation wasn''t a total disaster¡ª, it was not just about having it; it was the whole "carrying it around without getting into hot water" part that was tripping me up. If the rules of the game world held any water here, I needed to figure out a smart, maybe less conspicuous way to arm myself for those just-in-case moments. In the game, you found a lot of instances where scavengers and gangers were out to hunt down individuals with equipment they might need. Their prime targets were, obviously, teenagers with guns. They were too weak to put up any real fight and guns were universally useful for anyone trying to do just about any form of illicit activity. You were a lot safer by wielding knives or even full-sized blades, as not many gangers nor scavengers really specialised in them; and if they did, they would want to use their own custom weapons anyway. They were a lot less universally applicable than guns were. So if I intended to get a firearm, I¡¯d have to think about a seriously good way to permanently hide the fact that I was packing, lest I invite a lot of unwanted attention to my sorry self. ¡®Maybe a shooting range would be the best first order of business¡­¡¯ I ultimately had to concede. Before even thinking about getting a gun, I¡¯d need to learn how to properly use one first. Otherwise I¡¯d absolutely be wasting my Credits on one, not even thinking about the whole ¡°how to conceal it from everyone, at all times¡± bit. I jotted down ¡°Search for a shooting range,¡± as a semi-top priority for now, deciding to circle back to the topic of a firearm at a later stage. For now, I had my work cut out for me: More Skill grinding. Or about as much as I could stomach without going insane, of course. I was going back to Mr. Shori¡¯s the next morning, I had decided, so my usual routine was about to resume, albeit with a newfound focus on what I specifically wanted to achieve with my daily grind. Operation ¡°Become an Operator¡± was now officially at the top of my list, with subgoals to repay my debt to Gabriel and similar things marked in red on it as well. It was high time to finally start working hard on unlocking the first real quest NPC in this world¡­ Chapter 59 - Confrontation By the time Gabriel returned home, I was deep into my new workout routine, sweat evidence of my dedication. The moment he crossed the threshold and caught sight of me turning our living room into a makeshift gym, his face lit up like he''d just walked into a surprise party. "Sera! You''re back!" His words were like a burst of sunshine, blowing away any fatigue that had been clinging to him¡ªutterly adorable. "I''m back!" I echoed, my voice riding the same wave of genuine joy. No need for any acting skills here. Having Gabriel around was always the day''s highlight reel for me. He was the closest thing to real, everyday human interaction I got; even if he was my brother and that didn''t really count as a result. Sure, Mr. Shori was in the picture, but that dynamic was more professional, less personal. Gabriel, though? He brought the kind of warmth and camaraderie that could turn even the most mundane days into something a little more special. Gabriel paused mid-stride as he approached, a flicker of concern shadowing his face as he took in my battered appearance; which, while fixed up by the surgery and the hospital stay, still showed signs of the utter thrashing I had received. His eyes, until now so full of mirth, mirrored questions he hadn''t yet voiced. Jumping ahead of his worries, I quickly filled him in. "That Dojo is something else, let me tell you. Miss K, the instructor? She''s no joke¡ªa total badass. Just a heads up, she''s all about the ''no pain, no gain'' philosophy. So brace yourself for a real workout when it''s your turn. The Arkion Dojo is a lot more advanced than I had imagined," I said, trying to keep the mood light despite the serious heads-up. Then, as the memory of my time at the Dojo came flooding back, excitement bubbled over. "But guess what? I met a fox-girl there, Gabe! Yeah, you heard right¡ªa genuine fox-girl, complete with the cutest, fluffiest ears you can imagine!" My enthusiasm probably painted a vivid picture all on its own. "I was this close to petting them, but chickened out at the last minute. Didn''t want to overstep my bounds, you know? But, man, a real-life fox-girl! How cool is that, Gabe?!" My tale tumbled out in a rush, the sheer novelty of it all making me momentarily forget the aches from the training. "A fox-girl?" Gabriel''s eyebrows shot up, his face a mix of awe and disbelief. "You mean, like, someone who''s been genetically tweaked? Wow, that''s wild! I''ve always been curious about meeting one. Those genetic mods are way out of my price range, what with them costing an arm and a leg and such. And let''s be entirely real, rubbing elbows with the elite isn''t exactly on my daily agenda at the store," he laughed, his fascination clear despite the jest. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he shifted gears, "So the Dojo''s on another level, huh? What''s in store for me? My debut''s tomorrow, and I want to hit the ground running, prepped and ready. If you don¡¯t mind breaking it down for me, of course." As I plopped down on our well-worn couch, finally taking a breather from my impromptu living room workout session, I began spilling the beans on everything Arkion Dojo after gesturing for Gabriel to take a seat with me. It felt good to just sit and chat with Gabriel again, especially since our schedules had been so packed lately, stealing away those casual hangout moments. For the next hour, I laid it all out¡ªthe drills, the atmosphere at the dojo, even snippets from my visit to the ExoClinic, though carefully skipping over my mini heist adventure, of course. Gabriel hung onto every word, peppering me with questions, eager to soak up as much info as he could. It was like we were making up for lost time, and honestly, it was the most relaxed I''d felt in days. Gabriel''s initial reaction was a cocktail of intrigue and concern, especially at the thought of squaring off against opponents who were more machine than man, or had their DNA spliced with something out of a sci-fi flick. But as I dove into the details¡ªhow Miss K kept a hawk''s eye on us pure-humans to ensure the playing field was somewhat level, and the fact that the medical insurance, which was nothing short of stellar, came at no extra charge; as far as I could tell, at least¡ªhe began to see it in a new light. "Guess if my little sis can hold her own there, I''ve got no excuse to lag behind, do I?" he quipped, signalling the end of our deep dive into dojo life and my cue to finally wash off the day''s efforts in a comfortable shower. We wound down the night with some light conversation, though it didn''t stretch too late since both of us were eyeing an early bedtime. Gabriel, in particular, needed all the rest he could get, facing a marathon day ahead with a double shift followed by his own trial by fire at the dojo. I could almost see him limping home tomorrow, a tragically heroic but utterly spent figure. As sleep beckoned, a thought struck me¡ª¡¯I should whip up something substantial at Mr. Shori¡¯s for Gabriel tomorrow. That way, he''ll have a decent meal ready and can hit the hay as soon as he stumbles in.¡¯ With that final thought, I decided it was high time I followed suit and drifted off to sleep¡­
My eyes fluttered open an instant later, the always-present Rest Function disorientation hitting me square in the jaw as per usual.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
I had ended up deciding to make use of the Rest Function again for this night, as I wanted all of the surgery scars and post-dojo marks to be gone, before I headed back into Mr. Shori¡¯s stall¡ªdidn¡¯t really want to give the old man a heart attack with my wrung-through-the-wringer appearance. My reasoning was pretty straightforward. As long as I steered clear of Miss K or any familiar faces from the ExoClinic, I figured I could chalk up my miraculous recovery to some of that top-tier Ether Labs medical magic and a heap of tender loving care. It felt like a safe bet, one that would keep Mr. Shori''s worry-meter in the green without raising too many eyebrows. Surprisingly enough, I was greeted by another System Notification as well.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Deception] Skill. [System]: [Deception] has reached Level 1. [System]: 200xp gained for Ego Attribute.
I sat there, simply blinking at the update. ''Okay, that''s new...'' I hadn''t pulled any fast ones in my sleep, last I checked. But after letting it marinate for a few seconds, it clicked. The experience drop must''ve been a delayed reaction from the little performance I had put on with Miss K at the dojo about my dizzy spells and the whole act at the ExoClinic. ¡®It would make sense if the experience drops for something like [Deception] were delayed, from a game-design perspective at least¡­ That way, the player won¡¯t know whether their attempt at deceiving another person has succeeded or not,¡¯ I thought, trying to piece together the puzzle pieces left behind by the oddly timed System Notification. This was undoubtedly going to be something I¡¯d have to keep an eye on going forward, whether [Deception] was the only Skill that functioned this way, or if there were other Skills that had delayed experience drops for their usage in order to obfuscate their success rate. ¡®Why does this System have to be so anti-abuse though? This is basically an isekai, is it not? Shouldn¡¯t I just have the most overpowered System around that helps me with everything¡­? I swear I ended up with the most stingy-ass System of all time¡­¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but lament the System¡¯s restrictions once again. It truly felt like it was designed to make my life as difficult as possible, while still providing invaluable benefits to me, so I couldn¡¯t simply ignore it. Putting those thoughts aside for now, I double-checked what I knew about [Deception] and, much to my surprise, realised that there was a whole heap of things I hadn¡¯t known about before. ¡®The knowledge download must have come through while I was asleep¡­¡¯ The upside of that was that I didn¡¯t have to deal with consciously being aware of everything being downloaded into my brain; but the downside was similarly evident: I was not consciously aware of what all I had actually learned from the Skill¡¯s level up. [Deception], as a Skill, would come in and make sure I didn¡¯t go against anything I technically knew not to do, but I was failing to conjure up any specific aspects of knowledge, as I didn¡¯t actually consciously know about them existing. It was like trying to remember that one artist¡¯s name from one of your favourite songs. The one that is just at the tip of your tongue, but you never seem to be able to remember when you really need it. ¡®I guess this is the most ¡°passive¡± Skill out of all of them, in that regard. I¡¯ll just have to make sure that I¡¯m awake the next time around, so I can get some more insights into what I¡¯m actually supposed to learn about [Deception]...¡¯ Returning my attention to the world around me, I found the apartment minus one Gabriel, and Oliver still MIA from the night before. It then dawned on me just how deep everyone was in their own slices of the chaos pie. ''Oliver¡¯s really caught up in the thick of it, huh? Corporate drama must be hitting new levels of intense if he can''t even find his way home to crash anymore,'' I mused, feeling a twinge of concern for him. This whole OriginTech mess was unravelling into a bigger deal than any of us had pegged it for at the start. Back in the game, this whole OriginTech incident was just a slice of the backstory¡ªkind of a legendary tale tucked in the margins, illustrating how they climbed to titan status in the virtual world''s economy. Fast forward to reality, and suddenly, I''m watching the drama of OriginTech unfold live, witnessing firsthand the domino effect their founders'' actions had on real, actual people. Oliver''s latest work saga really brought it home¡ªpun not intended. The death of a corpo netrunner wasn''t just office gossip; it had morphed into a full-blown crisis, dominating his work life. But it wasn''t the loss itself stirring up the storm either. The real headache? They were in the dark about what data had been compromised, swiped, or messed with, thanks to the chaos unleashed by the netrunner''s demise. The aftermath was like navigating a minefield in slow motion. Sending in a cleanup crew without a clear picture of the threat was off the table. No one wanted to poke a sleeping daemon, especially when it had already shown its fangs. So, from what little Oliver had managed to share through his work-induced haze over the past week, a dedicated task force was now inching through the company''s digital innards. They were on a mission to scrutinise every byte in the servers, a digital sweep of epic proportions. With Oliver at the helm, being the foreman of the location where the breach was first detected, his days, and very evidently nights, were utterly swamped. He was smack in the middle of the fray, consulting on the operation and ensuring the integrity of every piece of data dredged up by the corpo netrunner task force. Walking into the living room, I couldn''t help but think, ''Man, Oliver''s got his plate full. Wouldn''t want to trade places with him right now.'' The weight of such responsibility seemed like a Herculean task from where I stood. Pivoting away from thoughts of Oliver''s corporate quagmire to my own agenda, I was all set to test drive some of the fresh insights I''d picked up on maximising experience points through my recent System research. "Time to amp it up," I psyched myself up, rolling into my workout routine with a twist. I nudged up the challenge a notch¡ªsqueezing in an additional push-up per set, dialling up the intensity with more demanding crunch angles. It wasn''t a seismic shift, but just the kind of tweak I was hoping would coax the System into tossing a few extra experience points my way¡­
On my way down to Mr. Shori¡¯s after my usual workout routine, I went through the stored up Notifications of last evening¡¯s workout and this morning''s with a big grin on my face.
[System]: 300xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.[System]: [Contortion] has reached Level 2. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Body Attribute.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for Body Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp. [System]: Body has reached 5. [System]: 400xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Stealth] Skill. Available Bonus left: 0xp. [System]: 500xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
So, the grand experiment with dialling down the intensity of my workouts while still aiming for that xp sweet spot? I had absolutely nailed it. I ended up bagging just as much, if not a smidge more, experience than the all-out sweat sessions I¡¯d been hammering out the last few days, and all without feeling like I''d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight. Plus, I hit Body 5, which was a game changer in its own right. I was now officially done with the ¡°tutorial¡± ranks in the Attribute, which not only meant that things were going to take a lot longer from now on, but also, that I was now actually kind of strong. With this latest upgrade, my muscles decided to show off a bit, tightening up and even making a shy appearance. I am not ashamed to admit that I had stared at my slightly visible abs in the mirror after my customary morning shower for quite a while, before finally throwing on my clothes and heading down towards Mr. Shori¡¯s. I had never had abs before, so it was a big deal for me, okay? Don¡¯t judge. Naturally, I wasn¡¯t about to be mistaken for a bodybuilder, and "exceptional" was still a stretch¡­ But among my peers? I was basically in a league of my own by now. From what I could tell, most folks that I ran into on a daily basis¡ªif they were slapped with a System rating¡ªwould hover around a 2 or 3 in Body, max. Though, translating my current teen strength into adult terms, I was probably more like a 3, realistically. But Kenzie? Oh, I had her number now. That was not even a question. Next time we squared off, she was going to get to see first-hand what this upgrade could do! Tamping down my buzz from the morning''s personal win, I made my way to Mr. Shori¡¯s stall, a ritual as comforting and routine as my first cup of coffee. Weaving through the crowd, blending in with the rush of the morning commute, there was something oddly soothing about being just another face in the crowd¡ªespecially after the whirlwind of the past few days. ''Life''s really flipped upside down recently, huh?'' I mused, a bit of melancholy threading through my thoughts. As I peeled off from the mass of people, a weird tension abruptly knotted up in my chest. It was like my body sensed trouble before my brain could catch up, my hand inching toward the hidden reassurance of my combat knife without even thinking. ''What''s going on¡­?'' I wondered, my inner alarm bells whispering warnings I couldn''t quite decode. Everything looked business as usual¡ªMr. Shori bustling around his stall, customers queuing up like any other day. Yet, that nagging feeling clung to me, a whisper that something was off, even though everything appeared perfectly normal. My steps quickened, a silent echo of my unease, as I hurried toward the familiar haven of the stall. That''s when I heard it¡ªa gruff voice slicing through the morning hustle, aimed unmistakably at me. ¡°Wait up there, Miss.¡± My body reacted before my mind did, instincts honing in on the potential threat as I spun away, ready to draw my knife. "Whoa, easy there!" The man backed off immediately, hands up in a peace offering as he stepped back, distancing himself with a gesture toward the alley to my left that he''d emerged from. "Just looking to chat for a sec if you don¡¯t mind. Nothing scary, I promise." But his words, his stance, something about the whole setup felt like it boxed me in, leaving me with a ''choice'' that felt anything but. I looked around carefully, trying to spot anyone else that might belong to this strange person, but I was unable to find anything. ¡°And what if I do mind?¡± I asked, probing the unknown man. He was wearing a surprisingly stylish, albeit dirty leather cloak, hiding the rest of his attire and equipment beneath it, making it impossible to tell what exactly his purpose was. The only thing that was clear was that he didn¡¯t belong. He was completely out of line with what I came to expect of the 16th floor, in terms of presentation, presence and clothing choices; making it an easy tell for me to realise this wasn¡¯t just your average, random stick-up. The grin he wore never left his face as he said, ¡°Well that would be most unfortunate, Ela.¡± I felt both my Ego and Edge Attributes kick into overdrive, keeping my face from showing any telling emotions¡ªspecifically the surprise and fear that I felt¡ªas I heard the man utter my fake name directly. My mind went into overdrive, ¡®How does he know this name¡­? Is he from Falkum Industries¡­? If he is, I¡¯m in big shit¡­!¡¯ But I knew I had no time to answer any of those questions on my own, as the man was clearly waiting for a response. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll hear you out, at least. Considering all the effort you¡¯ve gone through to ambush me like this,¡± I offered magnanimously, my Edge and Ego keeping my voice as cold as ice, despite my internal turmoil. With a beckoning nod, he motioned me to follow him deeper into the alley, a clear indication he wanted this conversation to be more private. Reluctantly, I inched forward, my senses on high alert as I stepped closer towards the shadowed nook he''d chosen for our little exchange. As I edged closer to the alleyway, the old wisdom of ''never follow a kidnapper to a second location'' echoed through my mind, adding a layer of caution to my steps. ''Could I bolt for Mr. Shori''s stall¡­? No, that''d just drag him into whatever mess this is shaping up to be.'' I scanned the surroundings with the subtlety of a cat stalking its prey, while following the strange man further into the alley, away from the main body of people on the small square in front of Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. My gaze snagged on a third-floor balcony, jutting out like a promise of escape over the alley I was being led into. ''That¡¯s my out. If push comes to shove, I can make a break for it with [Wall-Runner], assuming this guy isn¡¯t packing heat.'' With a makeshift plan B in my back pocket, I redirected my attention to the man who had now halted some twenty metres into the alley, spinning around to face me with an air of expectation. His approach was direct, cutting to the chase without any warm-up. "What business did you have on the 33rd floor?" The way he said it, it wasn''t a question; it was a demand for information. Given he''d dropped my alias with ease earlier, playing dumb wasn''t going to win me any points. Besides, outright denial might just escalate things. Keeping my tone light, I aimed for a mix of deflection and charm. "Just out for a bit of shopping. A girl''s gotta have her retail therapy, right?" My sass was deliberate, a tactic to throw him off balance and gauge his response. Thanks to my [Deception] Skill, which had sprung to life the instant I had planned my answer, I knew the key was to provoke some kind of emotional reaction in order to make it easier to weave my own narrative. Positive or negative, as long as he reacted in some way¡ªit didn''t matter. My attempt at deflecting, however, didn''t land as smoothly as I''d hoped. The man doubled down immediately, his question slicing through any pretence with surgical precision. "To put it more bluntly, then: Why were Falkum''s security forces taking some serious potshots at you on the 33rd floor?" His voice was as even as a calm sea, but his demeanour was anything but welcoming. Right then, I knew I was in deep water with someone who wasn''t just good at his job¡ªhe was probably an expert. ''Great, what the fuck¡¯s my next move here?'' Panic briefly flickered through my thoughts, highlighting the stark reality that my novice level in [Deception] was no match for someone seasoned in cutting through layers of bullshit. Coming clean about the data-shard heist from Fulkrum Industries wasn''t an option unless I was keen on digging my own grave, especially if this guy was on their payroll, hunting for clues about the breach. "I kinda rubbed some alleyway folks the wrong way, that''s all. Why security felt the need to start shooting, beats me," I said, trying to paint the incident as a misunderstanding rather than the corporate espionage escapade it was. "Those guys? Looked more like Operators than corporate goons. Didn''t catch a glimpse of any Fulkrum badges on them; not that they really cared to show them in the first place." If he was privy to the shootout, then he likely knew about the scuffle that led up to it. My goal? Keep steering clear of any confession related to the data-shard. ''Just play it cool, don''t give anything away about the shard, and maybe, just maybe, I can navigate through this absolute fucking minefield.'' "Did you have company?" He didn''t waste any time with his next question. I gave him the once-over, trying to crack his poker face for any sliver of insight. But the guy was a fortress¡ªhis expression and posture gave away absolutely nothing. That scruffy leather cloak he wore like a second skin only made him more of an enigma, effectively masking any physical cues that could hint at his true intentions. ''What''s his play here? Trying to sniff out if I had backup, or is he digging for dirt on Aki?'' I wondered, my brain spinning scenarios faster than a conspiracy theorist. This whole situation was quickly shaping up to be more intense than any spy drama I''d ever watched. Mentally, I decided to keep Aki''s name out of it unless he specifically mentioned her. Despite the whole mess of lies between us, throwing her to the wolves¡ªor this guy, which might be worse¡ªwasn''t on my to-do list. ¡®If he were to capture her and torture her¡­ Then me rescuing her in the first place would¡¯ve been a big waste of everyone¡¯s time; especially mine.¡¯ "Nope. Unless you count the random Operators in that alleyway at the start," I tossed back casually, maintaining an air of indifference. Inside, I was practically high-fiving my Edge and Ego Attributes for keeping my outer calm intact. Then came a pause, thick with anticipation, like the quiet before a storm. It felt as if we were both waiting for the other to make a move, the air charged with unspoken tension. He broke the silence with yet another pointed question. "If it was just you, how come everyone I asked about this incident swears they saw two individuals making a beeline for the elevators, dodging guards?" I let out a long, frustrated sigh, thick with irritation. "Look, I don''t have a fucking clue, alright? Guards were firing left and right; people were scattering like freakin¡¯ rats everywhere. The elevators are neutral territory, everyone knows that¡ªthey''re the one place the corporate goons can''t touch you on their own floor. And honestly, trying to avoid getting shot didn''t leave much room for people-watching, you know? I was a bit fucking busy!" I leaned into my response, a bit of genuine frustration bleeding into my act, guided by my [Deception]. I hoped my blend of truth and heightened annoyance would be convincing enough. For the first time, a subtle shift crossed his expression¡ªa slight twitch of his stubbly 3-day beard that might have been the ghost of a smile. My muscles tightened instinctively, unsure if this was a win or a warning. Had I just said something that aligned with his mission, or was this smile the precursor to more trouble? Either way, his reaction had me on high alert, second-guessing my every move. Just as the man began to move for the first time since our standoff started, gearing me up to sprint out of the alley at full throttle, I was jolted by the familiar, broken English of Mr. Shori echoing out from behind me. "Hey, you! Step away from girl! She with me!" his voice rang out. The rapid patter of his approaching footsteps made it clear he was not just walking, but running towards us. A mix of regret and deep, genuine gratitude surged through me. I had deliberately kept our conversation away from Mr. Shori''s stall, hoping to shield him from any potential fallout and violence, especially if these guys didn''t know about our connection. The last thing I wanted was to drag him into this mess. But there he was, defying my intentions by charging into the fray himself. As he stood beside me, I couldn''t hide my shock at seeing him armed, not with one, but two long, razor-sharp knives¡ªthe very ones I had recently enhanced with my [Sharpen] Perk. These weren''t your average kitchen tools but specialised blades for slicing through rare, delicate ingredients that required long, precise cuts. He had rarely used them before in my presence, but they looked every bit as menacing as you would imagine. ¡®Holy shit,¡¯ slipped through my thoughts as I observed Mr. Shori. It wasn¡¯t just the way he held the knives; it was the confidence and skill in his grip, revealing a side of him I hadn¡¯t fully appreciated before. This wasn''t just a man who wielded knives to julienne veggies but someone who seemed to have a whole other level of expertise, one that went far beyond the culinary arts. My [Knives] Skill tingled, recognizing the seasoned ease and expert grip in his movements¡ªthis was muscle memory that had nothing to do with food prep. Raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, much like he had when we first met minutes earlier, the man quickly sought to reassure Mr. Shori. "No worries, Mr. Shori. My business here is concluded either way. I was just about to leave, so no need to brandish those knives of yours." He gave me a nod, adding, "I appreciate your candid responses, Miss Ela. I doubt I will be in touch, but I wish you all the best either way." With those final words, he turned and began to walk away, leaving the scene as abruptly as he had entered it. Half of me burned to chase after him, demanding answers, while the other half was reeling, trying to piece together the surreal encounter. ''He knew Mr. Shori too...?'' "You okay, Ela?" Mr. Shori''s voice, thick with concern, snapped me back to reality. "I see you approach, then gone! I figure, ¡®Ela in trouble¡¯! So I come for help. You not hurt, yes?" Looking at him, every bit the protector with his earnest, worried expression, a swell of gratitude washed over me. "I¡¯m fine, thank you, Mr. Shori," I assured him. Despite the whirlwind of emotions and confusion, I didn''t feel like I had been in any immediate danger¡ªperhaps naively so. "Ehh¡­ I think we should return to the stall, before the customers riot," I suggested, eager to leave the alley and its unnerving shadows behind. Mr. Shori nodded in agreement, and as we headed back, the curious stares of the customers met us. They had all witnessed Mr. Shori''s dramatic exit, long-knives in hand, ready to come to my rescue. The sight must have been quite something indeed.... Chapter 60 - Conclusions Back under the comforting hum of the food stall, I watched Mr. Shori carefully place his long knives¡ªnot back in their usual spot, but closer to his usual workstation, a clear precaution in case today''s drama wasn''t over just yet. Turning to me, his concern evident, he asked in Japanese, ¡°{Are you okay, Ela? You¡¯re not hurt or anything?}¡± Embarrassed yet deeply touched by his concern, I responded, ¡°{Yeah, I¡¯m fine, Mr. Shori. Thank you. It was just a strange encounter. The guy had questions about what happened a couple days ago; about the day when Aki came back here hurt.}¡± Mr. Shori''s brow furrowed as he processed this. ¡°{He was aware of that¡­? That¡¯s problematic. What exactly did you do to catch this much attention? You¡¯re still young, Ela. You shouldn¡¯t be getting involved in dangerous things like this¡­}¡± His voice carried a weight that suggested he wasn''t just concerned¡ªhe seemed to be speaking from a place of personal experience. Part of me was itching to ask Mr. Shori about his past, especially after seeing him so ready to dive into action and wield those long knives with such non-culinary expertise. Yet, I hesitated, respecting the boundaries he seemed to set around his personal history. After all, he''d shown me the same respect, particularly concerning the recent data-collection mess; despite both a hurt Aki showing up at his stall and this whole incident just now¡ªMr. Shori still hadn¡¯t asked me about any of it a single time. "{Thank you again, Mr. Shori. I didn''t want to drag you into this, but I''m really grateful for your help,}" I said, giving him a deep bow to emphasise my gratitude and perhaps to close that chapter for the time being. A normal day at the stall seemed like the perfect antidote to the morning¡¯s adrenaline. ¡°{Don¡¯t mention it. The old are meant to protect the young; such is the way of a healthy world,}¡± he replied, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes¡ªthe usual look of gentle wisdom that he used to wear, which always reassured me. Switching back to English, perhaps signalling an end to our deeper exchange, he briskly added, ¡°Now, more work; less talk! You sharpen, you cut, you make broth. Later, I show you more cooking. Yes?¡± His tone, firm yet affectionate, nudged us back to the rhythm of our daily tasks. Nodding affirmatively, I felt the comforting familiarity of the kitchen space envelope me. Mr. Shori returned to the front of the stall, greeted by the curious glances of the customers. They were clearly buzzing with questions about the morning¡¯s events, but Mr. Shori wasn¡¯t about to offer any explanations. For me, it was back to the grind, chopping and stirring, but my mind was still racing, replaying the morning¡¯s confrontation. I needed to piece together who that man was, who he worked for, and what he had really wanted from me¡­
¡®It¡¯s unlikely that he was from Falkum Industries,¡¯ I ultimately concluded, while depositing another slew of algae in the broth-bath, around an hour later. ¡®If he had been, I doubt he would have been courteous enough to ask me questions in an alley, rather than simply taking me with him and interrogating me in some corporate backroom¡­¡¯ Based on everything I knew about corporations, their secrets and how they handled data-breaches in this world from the playthroughs of Neon Dragons I had seen, it didn¡¯t seem likely that an Agent of Falkum Industries would play as nice as that. It wasn¡¯t exactly like there were any laws to stop corporations from abducting random citizens and torturing them for information, after all. Well¡­ technically there were laws; but there was simply no one to actually enforce them¡ªwhich ultimately meant that the laws didn¡¯t matter. Especially in a megabuilding like Delta, you were hard-pressed to find any real form of justice, but whatever each individual Corporation or Gang of the floor you were currently on would offer. Actual police didn¡¯t enter megabuildings unless an outside investigation required it; or they were practically guaranteed to make a big haul¡ªsay, they had concrete, irrefutable proof and evidence of a Corporation¡¯s illegal activities and could make use of that. Mulling over these bits and pieces left a nagging question swirling in my mind, one I couldn''t shake off no matter how hard I tried. ''If he wasn''t an agent from Falkum Industries, then who the fuck was he...?'' It was a puzzle that kept pulling at me, adding an ever-present edge to my thoughts throughout the morning. I had toyed with the idea that maybe he was an Operator from the crew I had clashed with in the alley, but this guy had seemed leagues above them in capability. He could have been some sort of mentor to them, sure, but his almost non-threatening attitude¡ªabrupt appearance and sub-text notwithstanding¡ªand the fact that he had barely asked about the alley encounter at all pretty much tossed that theory out the window. ''Then who else would care about this mess? It was just Falkum Industries, those Operators, and me involved,'' I ruminated, frustration mounting as I tried to untangle the motives behind his interest. ''And it¡¯s not like Mr. Stirling would have someone sniff around; I was upfront with him about everything after I ended up at his place looking like I¡¯d gone a few rounds with a lawnmower¡ªand some more than angry guns.'' As I threw a handful of spices into the mortar, my movements were a bit more vigorous than necessary¡ªthe problem was gnawing at me, cranking up my frustration levels. I ground the spices with more force than usual, the rhythmic pounding mirroring the racing of my thoughts. Sure, maybe I was getting more worked up than I should, but when potential life-threatening implications were at stake if the wrong people took an interest, maybe a little anxiety was justified after all. As I methodically ground the spices into a fine powder, preparing to blend them into the algae-broth, my mind wandered back to the first time Aki had shown up at the stall. We had spent hours together, just grinding spices, lost in our own little world. ''I still can''t wrap my head around the fact that Aki was supposedly deceiving me all along... There had to be a reason, right? But why? It''s not like I''m some big player in this world or anything¡ªwhy follow me¡ª" Mid-grind, I froze, a sudden realisation hitting me like a bolt of lightning. ''Aki! She was there, in the alley!'' It dawned on me that I had completely overlooked her in my earlier rundown of "relevant parties." She hadn''t been relevant until the end and hadn''t seemed directly involved in the whole data-shard incident as a whole, which is why she had slipped my mind until now. My heart kicked up its pace, adrenaline flooding through me as the pieces started to click into place. ''That man must have been here because of Aki; it''s the only thing that makes sense. He wasn¡¯t just asking about the alley brawl; he was probing why I had been targeted by gunfire. He didn¡¯t care about the data or the shard itself; instead, he focused on whether I had been alone¡ªand when I said I had been, he smiled like that because he knew Aki had been there with me¡­!¡¯ The puzzle pieces were falling into place now; making me more and more confident in my conclusion: Whoever that man had been, he was somehow connected to ¡°Aki¡± and had likely attempted to figure out how she had gotten injured like that. Continuing to crush the spices, both in order to continue my actual work, as well as try to work the adrenaline out of my system, there were still a few unanswered questions that now loomed larger than ever in my mind. Primarily the question as to why Aki had been sent to follow me to begin with. As I mixed the freshly ground spices into the broth, my mind wandered through the limited number of interactions I''d had in this world. ''Who actually knows I even exist to begin with?'' The mental list wasn''t long. The obvious names popped up first: Mr. Shori, Mr. Stirling, and the various shop clerks like Misha whom I''d bought stuff from. But beyond that, compiling a comprehensive list was turning into a bit of a challenge. ''Then there was that one woman who flipped me off in front of the elevator on my first day out of the apartment¡ªthough I seriously doubt she''s involved in any of this,'' I mused while moving over to the knives to start sharpening them with my Perk. And Dr. Maltrick, with her strong preference for staying out of trouble, didn''t seem like a likely candidate either. ''Besides, she knows Valeria. If she wanted dirt on me, she could just ask her directly,'' I reasoned, dismissing her as a possibility. Recalling the order of my encounters, the unenthused elevator lady was first, then Mr. Shori followed by Mr. Stirling, Dr. Maltrick and finally Misha. I quickly ruled out the various store clerks and the hairdressers at Circuit Locks¡ªthey seemed too entrenched in their day-to-day jobs to be involved in any shady business. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I included Misha, however, not because she was a clerk, but because she was a Gryplik, specifically. Associating with her could attract unwanted attention, given the somewhat rampant racism in this world; depending on where you went. ''Could that connection have somehow drawn eyes my way?'' I pondered, beginning to sharpen the knives I hadn¡¯t gotten around to at the start of my shift and sorting through potential leads, no matter how thin they might be. As I mulled over the list of everyone I''d interacted with, none seemed particularly suspicious. Mr. Shori was definitely off the hook, and so was Mr. Stirling¡ªneither one of them would have any trouble getting information on me directly. Dr. Maltrick appeared more likely to avoid drama than dive into it, and if my interactions with Misha were problematic, surely Aki or the mysterious guy who''d approached me would''ve dropped some hint about Grypliks being a problem as a whole. With a confident nod to myself, I ruled them all out. Logically, none of them fit into whatever mess was surrounding Aki. Continuing my mental recap of my activities in this world, a significant incident I¡¯d almost glossed over came rushing back. "The data delivery," I whispered under my breath as another piece seemed to click into place. That was the one time I had really exposed myself to any faction, notably to the Clawed Beasts. ''That Vega guy... he seemed like the type who''d keep an eye on someone that had suddenly sprung up like me and delievered something as important-seeming as the shard,'' I mused, perhaps influenced by hindsight bias but increasingly convinced I was onto something. The peculiar contact I had dealt with inside the Downpour bar was starting to look like a prime suspect. What if Aki had been planted by him? The thought gathered momentum in my mind. ''Was she sent to monitor me and Mr. Shori, to ensure that Shori didn¡¯t revert to his old ties with the Red Snakes or that I didn¡¯t inadvertently play into some double-cross involving intel delivery?'' The theory was gaining more and more weight, the closer I examined everything that had happened so far, lining up the dots between Aki¡¯s sudden presence, her shadowing me, and that enigmatic man¡¯s questioning. ''If Vega saw Aki come back hurt, he''d definitely want to know what went down, especially if she was too messed up to fill him in herself.'' Aki had been in pretty bad shape last I saw her, having lost a lot of blood, so it wasn''t hard to imagine her being unable to give a clear account of the events whenever she arrived back at the Clawed Beasts¡¯ area; assuming she was part of the gang . Despite everything¡ªher lies and all¡ªI still found myself hoping she hadn''t suffered too much because of any involvement with me. She was just a teenager, and the thought of her being seriously harmed, or worse, because of a situation I''d dragged her into, was unsettling. ''If something really bad happened to her because of me, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d handle that¡­'' Memories of the [Murder] Notification flashed before my eyes, making my blood run cold. ''Stop it, Sera! Aki''s okay,'' I told myself firmly, trying to stave off the panic rising in my chest. ''It was one of those thugs, not Aki. People don¡¯t just die from a punctured hand... not that quickly, at least.'' This self-assurance was more of a plea, a desperate hope that she was alright, as I worked to calm my racing heart and focus on the facts, not the fears. As I placed the freshly sharpened knives back on their rack, I tried to lighten the mood in my head with a bit of humour. ''If having a racing heart gave experience points, I''d have levelled up big time this morning so far.'' Unfortunately, the joke fell flat even in my own mind, doing little to ease the tension I felt. With a mental sigh, I ran through the whole scenario that seemed most plausible to me now once again. ''Aki is likely somehow tied to the Clawed Beasts, sent by Vega¡ªor maybe his superiors¡ªto keep tabs on Mr. Shori and possibly on me as well. They probably figured that Mr. Shori, who seems known for his soft spot for teenagers like me, wouldn''t suspect a thing. And they were counting on her being young and inconspicuous enough to fly under the radar with me, too.'' Thinking about how well they seemed to have played their cards, using Aki''s youth and likely my own vulnerabilities and need to find a connection in this world against me, left a sour taste in my mouth. ''They really nailed it, didn''t they?'' I mused bitterly. ''They knew exactly how to play me. Damn it¡­!'' The realisation stung and acknowledging that I had been so transparent in their strategy only added to the frustration simmering within me. Despite my frustrations, I found a slice of inner peace in having cobbled together a coherent explanation for the recent chaotic events. Realising that Aki might have been planted by the Clawed Beasts to spy on Mr. Shori and me added a layer of complexity to my experience here, but it also offered a valuable learning opportunity. I had let my guard down after mingling with one of the megabuilding''s factions, and it had nearly cost me my life. This outcome, while highly likely unintended by their actions, had been the ultimate consequence nonetheless. ''I''ve got to keep my eyes wide open if I mingle with any factions again, even briefly. Can''t let my guard slip like that again,'' I resolved, mentally bookmarking this lesson for the future. With the immediate mystery somewhat resolved, I decided it was time to dive back into work, eager to test if I could leverage my newfound System insights for some extra experience gains. My path might be steering towards becoming an Operator, but that didn''t mean I was going to stop squeezing every drop of experience from my other activities. After all, who knows? Maybe [Cooking] could prove useful down the line in ways I hadn''t yet imagined¡­
The rest of my shift at Mr. Shori''s unfolded pretty much as usual, except I found myself pausing more often than normal, deliberating over each action a little more carefully. I was trying to apply the system research I''d done a few days ago, which turned out to be more mentally taxing than I''d expected. Earlier that morning, tweaking my workout to ramp up the challenge and milk some extra experience points had been straightforward. But with [Cooking], given the diverse range of tasks I juggled from one minute to the next, integrating this new approach into my routine proved tricky. So there I was, mentally juggling ways to subtly crank up the difficulty of each task as I performed them, completely absorbed. I didn''t even notice someone had slipped into the back of the stall until they hesitantly spoke up. "E...Ela..." The voice nearly sent me jumping out of my skin. In an instant reflex, I whipped around, kitchen knife in hand, ready to confront whoever had caught me off guard. But as my eyes landed on the figure before me, my heart stopped for a beat. "Aki," I blurted out, my voice twisting strangely with a cocktail of emotions. Seeing her there, unharmed and upright, brought a wave of relief crashing over me. Yet, tangled up with that relief was a thoroughly complex web of distrust, frustration, and annoyance, fueled by the conclusions I''d drawn earlier. Here she was, the person at the centre of all my recent turmoil, and now, faced with her in person, my feelings were anything but simple. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not here to cause trouble, I promise,¡± Aki began, her voice sounding unusually timid and fragile. ¡°I just wanted to keep my promise to Mr. Shori and come back... and to thank you for saving me. You¡­ You didn¡¯t have to, but you did. Especially after everything¡­¡± Her voice faltered, struggling to find the right words. As she spoke, my focus was continuously off. My Intuition seemed to be tugging my attention towards the backdoor of the stall, hinting I was missing something crucial. Despite trying to focus on Aki, my eyes kept darting back and forth between her and the door. Noticing my unfocused glances, Aki suddenly looked paler, quickly raising her hands in a calming gesture, "Ahhh, that¡¯s just two of my sisters! They wanted to make sure I wasn¡¯t in any danger! They¡­ They won¡¯t cause any problems!" She seemed genuinely scared, but I barely registered her fear. Learning that others were nearby actually reassured me, as it removed the guesswork about whether she was alone; this allowed me to redirect my full attention back to her. I noticed how she was wearing a cast of some kind on one of her arms and that she was standing fairly unevenly, as if one of her legs had been seriously hurt. Her pallor was worse than I remembered from the last time I had seen her inside Mr. Shori¡¯s stall as well. All those observations however, didn¡¯t do anything to calm the raging storm within me. Finally, my seriously tested patience over the past days finally wore thin. The need to address the elephant in the room overpowered me. ¡°What is your name? It¡¯s clearly not ''Aki''. I¡¯m sick and tired of thinking of you in quotes. If you want to thank me for bailing you out of the fucking mess you caused, start with being honest about who the actual fuck you are,¡± I demanded, the words far sharper and a lot more confrontational than I had intended. Despite being surprised at my own bluntness, however, I didn''t feel any remorse. After all the stress and confusion she''d caused me, I had every right to cut through the pleasantries and demand straight answers. No more diplomatic niceties; it was time for some real talk and some actual answers. A tense silence hung in the air between us, thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts. I watched as a storm of emotions flickered across the girl''s face, betraying her inner turmoil. Finally, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of us. "My name is Jade¡­ Or rather, that¡¯s what everyone calls me. I don¡¯t remember any other name," she confessed, the words seeming to carry more weight than they should. "I¡¯m truly sorry for all the trouble I caused, for messing up your operation... It wasn¡¯t what I intended. I was just trying to understand what you were up to and ended up in the hands of those Operators... Thank you for not just leaving me there. You could have, and maybe you should have¡­ After everything..." Her voice trailed off again, leaving me to fill in the blanks. Unfortunately for her, however, my patience for filling in those holes was already long spent. "After everything, what? Come on, Jade, spell it out for me, just this once. I want to hear it directly from you," I pressed, my tone sharper and colder than intended, the name ''Jade'' almost a snarl. My frustration was boiling over, no longer interested in holding back or moderating my emotions. "Tell me about how you''ve been deceiving Mr. Shori and me. How you¡¯ve been lurking around, pretending to work here just to spy on us. How you''ve been reporting back to the Clawed Beasts and Vega about our every move. Go on, don''t hold back, Jade. Lay it all out!" Suddenly, the door behind Jade burst open, and two women burst through. One looked to be about three or four years older than me, while the other seemed to be in her mid-twenties. The younger one was brandishing something that looked like a Wakizashi at me, but it was the older one who really caught my attention. She wasn¡¯t wielding any visible weapon, yet her presence was overwhelmingly intimidating. Her gaze alone felt like being squeezed by a hydraulic press¡ªthe intensity of her stare packed with silent warnings that hit me like a physical force. Somehow, I managed to stand my ground, bolstered by a surge of resolve from my boosted Ego Attribute, as the two women stormed into the back of the stall. "Sapphira, Ruby, wait!" Jade''s voice cut through the cramped back-room as she called out to them. The two women halted immediately, pausing just a few steps behind her; their eyes never leaving me for a single moment¡­ Chapter 61 - Escalation Facing the trio in front of me, my senses were on high alert, waiting for them to make the first move. Fight or flight instincts had fully kicked in, though flight seemed off the table with them blocking the only straightforward exit. My only other option would involve a mad dash through the front and a vault over the counter¡ªnot exactly a graceful nor low-key escape. ¡°She doesn¡¯t sound like she is being reasonable. I don¡¯t appreciate someone yelling at my little Jade like that,¡± the oldest of the three declared, her piercing blue eyes locking onto me with a suffocating intensity. Jade stepped in front of her, hands still raised in a gesture meant to calm the waters. ¡°She has every right to be mad, Sapphira! I told you I would handle this. Now, stop antagonising her! You¡¯re just making this more difficult!¡± she implored, her voice firm yet pleading. From Jade¡¯s left, the other woman, who seemed as thrilled to be here as I was, muttered, ¡°...told her she shouldn¡¯t be so hot-headed.¡± It appeared she was dragged along more by the older woman¡¯s will than her own volition. A heavy silence fell over us, thick with tension. I was half-expecting Mr. Shori to wander into the back at any moment and find us in this weapons-drawn-and-pointing-at-each-other style standoff, which would complicate things further. But, fortunately, it seemed Sapphira was beginning to yield under Jade''s earnest pleas, her resolve wavering as she processed her sister¡¯s words. With an exasperated sigh, the older woman stepped back towards the door they had entered from and grumbled, "Fine! But this girl better watch her fucking mouth. I¡¯m not going to sit idly by while she yells at you!" Her words irked me. It wasn''t my fault they had thrown my life into chaos, nor was I wrong in my feelings. ¡°Aki¡± was the one who had deceived me all this time and almost gotten me killed; I didn''t choose for this to happen! I had every damn right to be angry. However, I chose to hold back my retorts, biting my tongue instead. It was better to keep quiet and watch how things unfolded while keeping a wary eye on the still-agitated woman now lingering by the back-door. When Jade turned back to face me, her expression was laced with embarrassment and regret. "I¡¯m sorry, Ela. For this just now and¡­ well¡­ everything. You¡¯re right; I did lie to you and Mr. Shori, yet you¡¯ve both shown me nothing but kindness and openness¡­ I ruined your op and nearly got you killed, yet you still saved me and didn¡¯t ask for anything in return. I¡­ I appreciate that, a lot," she said, her voice carrying a sincerity that hadn¡¯t been there before. The confrontation seemed to have snapped her out of her previous nervousness, bringing a more genuine tone to her apology. "And that''s not just words!" Jade abruptly blurted out, catching me off guard. It seemed my sceptical expression had given away my doubts¡ªI didn''t believe a single fucking word of what she was saying. She edged closer, prompting me instinctively to take a step back. But then, lowering her voice, she whispered, "Listen, Ela... When you saved me... Your moves... I didn¡¯t tell anyone about it, okay? Not even Vega." My eyes widened as I grasped the full weight of her words. ''She''s talking about [Wall-Runner], isn¡¯t she?!'' That was information I definitely didn''t want leaking out, if it hadn''t already. While there were cybernetics that could somewhat mimic my actions, I wasn¡¯t actually equipped with any. Such technology was not only rare but prohibitively expensive, and unwanted attention from those knowledgeable about such tech could mean serious trouble for me. ¡°I can appreciate that,¡± I responded quietly, matching her whispered tone. I was careful not to reveal too much relief; I didn''t want her to know how genuinely grateful I was for her silence, even if it might have been misplaced trust on her part. My gaze flicked repeatedly to the other two women, who now stood awkwardly by the door at the back of the stall. They were clearly straining to catch every whisper between Jade and me, but their eavesdropping didn''t seem too successful, as Sapphira''s irritation grew more palpable by the second. As Jade took a step back, she added, "I... That''s all, really. I just wanted to thank you for saving me and for not letting the corpos take me. I don¡¯t think they would''ve been too pleased with me sneaking around their floor like that..." Her voice dwindled into silence, her eyes clouding over as she likely pondered the grim possibilities of what could have happened. While I didn¡¯t know the exact relationship between the Clawed Beasts and Falkum Industries, it was generally understood that gangs and corporations didn¡¯t like each other; especially in the confined spaces of a megabuilding like Delta. "Anyway," she resumed, her voice tinged with awkwardness as she seemed unsure of how to wrap up our conversation. "I... I¡¯ll just leave now. You won¡¯t see me again. I''m sorry for lying. I really am... But¡­ It was my job. You know how it is..." Her words trailed off, leaving a mix of sincerity and resignation hanging in the air. Somehow, those words jolted me. Deep down, for some reason, I didn''t want Jade to just disappear forever. Despite my anger, she was the only other person I''d really interacted with in this world that wasn¡¯t part of my family, aside from Mr. Shori, even if it had only been for a few days. And I had to admit, I understood her situation to some extent. It wasn¡¯t like ¡°Aki¡± had decided to mess with me just for kicks. She had been sent here by Vega to do a job, a job she hadn¡¯t even fully completed, according to her own admission about keeping some of my abilities a secret. Considering all the other options she undoubtedly had, and despite my efforts to stay justifiably angry, the thought of her just... vanishing from my life forever didn¡¯t sit quite right with me. Perhaps it was the loneliness I felt, the stark realisation that I had no one my own age to confide in, hang out with, or talk to. Recognizing this didn¡¯t make the feeling any less poignant, however. In the end, this mess wasn¡¯t really her fault; it was Vega¡¯s. As I watched Jade turn to head towards the back door, with Sapphira and Ruby following, something within me snapped. ¡°I want to meet Vega,¡± I blurted out suddenly. The trio stopped dead in their tracks, as if hit by a bolt of lightning. I immediately realised I might have severely overstepped with my demand, but by then, I was already too deep into it to back down, even though I wasn''t quite sure where I was even heading with this request. Channelling some of the audacious confidence I had recently adopted at the ExoClinic, I figured a bold approach was best. "Arrange it. I¡¯ll make time," I declared, trying to sound as assertive as possible. I noticed Jade quickly and somewhat frantically signalling to Ruby and Sapphira. Thanks to my [Polyglot] Trait, I could even understand the sign language she used. {Do not engage! It¡¯s too dangerous. Stay calm.} I was puzzled by the translation¡ªI couldn¡¯t see what they found so risky about a potential three-on-one scenario if they decided to simply gank me, but I was nonetheless grateful for Jade¡¯s intervention. ¡°I¡­ We can¡¯t just let you meet Vega, Ela... Listen, I¡¯m really thankful, but that¡¯s... That''s just not going to happen,¡± Jade responded, her voice laced with a hint of panic. ¡°Vega is... indispensable for us. Surely you understand?¡± I did not. It wasn''t as though I was requesting a sit-down with the top boss of the Clawed Beasts or anything. From what I had gathered, Vega seemed more like a middle-management type, possibly involved in intelligence¡ªa far cry from the big boss role. Besides, I had already met him once, and that encounter had turned out mutually beneficial for the both of us. Reflecting on that meeting, a critical detail suddenly came back to me. "Arrange it," I stated again, my voice dropping to an icy tone, fortified by my Edge and Ego Attributes helping me maintain my composed persona. "He will make time. After all... He owes me." A heavy silence fell over us next, thick with shock as the three women stared at me, their faces a tableau of diverse emotions. Jade''s eyes widened in surprise, Ruby seemed intrigued by my audacity, and Sapphira looked as if she was about to explode with anger, her glare seething with fury. "How fucking dare you, you bitch," Sapphira hissed under her breath, her words dripping with venom. This sharp outburst made Jade quickly turn to her, urgently signalling with her hands. {Stop! Don''t! It¡¯s too dangerous!} Her frantic gestures aimed to pacify Sapphira, highlighting the delicate and perilous nature of the situation. It was clear that Sapphira was torn between heeding Jade''s warnings and giving in to her anger, with a strong impulse to charge across the kitchen and handle me physically¡ªa feat I had no doubt she could accomplish if my assessment of her capabilities was at all accurate. Not keen on finding out firsthand, I maintained my cool demeanour and added sharply, "Ask him, then?! Send him a message or something; tell him Ela wants to call in her favour. Surely he has time to respond to a message, right?" Truthfully, I had no clear plan, but as the situation unfolded, I found myself more and more entangled in this risky bluff. Initially, I had hoped to keep Jade around, but very rapidly my top priority had shifted dramatically to keeping myself safe from the clearly volatile Sapphira, who seemed ready to tear me apart at the slightest provocation. A tense silence filled the room again, becoming almost oppressive. The three women exchanged significant glances, their silent communication charged with meaning but sadly lost on me, as my [Polyglot] Trait didn''t extend to reading minds or interpreting looks. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Finally, the atmosphere subtly shifted as Sapphira''s expression softened, her eyes turning a lighter shade of blue. It appeared she was actually sending a message. ''She¡¯s contacting him... I really hope Vega is the kind of guy to honour his word¡­!'' I thought, a mix of hope and apprehension swirling within me as I waited for her to finish her silent conversation. My anxiety was skyrocketing as I waited with bated breath for any kind of response, cornered at the back of the stall with only a small, albeit very sharp, kitchen knife for defence. ''I do have my combat knife, but whipping it out right now seems like a terrible idea,'' I mused, trying to distract myself from the pounding of my heart. After about thirty gruelling and tension-filled seconds, a flash of surprise crossed Sapphira''s face, prompting a quiet sigh of relief from me. "I... She''s fucking telling the truth...?" Sapphira admitted, her voice unusually subdued and utterly confused. "Vega wants to see her... He said to... To treat her well and bring her...?" I was tempted to flash a smug, victorious smile, but prudence quickly squashed that impulse, reminding me of how close I had come to a dire confrontation. Meanwhile, Jade turned to me with a look of incredulity, as if she couldn¡¯t believe I had somehow managed to gain favour with her boss before we had even met. I responded with a nonchalant shrug and set the kitchen knife down on a nearby counter; it was Mr. Shori''s property, after all. ¡°I take it we¡¯re leaving now, then?¡± I asked casually, nodding towards the back door. I was still unclear on what my plan actually entailed, but I knew leveraging my newly found advantage was crucial, especially in dealing with Sapphira. "Ahh... Yes," the oldest of the girls responded, clearly unsettled by the revelation that she might have misjudged me. ¡°Follow us, we¡¯ll lead the way.¡± I paused briefly to say, ¡°Just one sec,¡± before rushing towards the front of the stall, only to nearly run into Mr. Shori, who was standing by the wall that led to the front, long-knives in hand. ¡°Ah¡­ Mr. Shori¡­?¡± I stuttered, caught off guard to see the kind man seemingly prepared for a bloody skirmish. ¡°Good to see everything well! I worried about Ela, ready to help,¡± he explained with a broad smile, relief evident in his tone. ¡°But not necessary! Best outcome! You go now, yes? Stay safe.¡± I could hardly believe my eyes and ears, but it seemed that Mr. Shori had been very much aware of everything happening in the back of the stall just now. Not just that, but he had been ready to back me up at a moment¡¯s notice, should the situation escalate. Things started to fall into place for me as I realised, ¡®That must be why Jade was telling Ruby and Sapphira it was too dangerous to engage¡­! They were scared of Mr. Shori¡¯s involvement!¡¯ Today was the day I was going to rack up yet another massive debt with the old man, it seemed. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Shori,¡± I said, giving him another deep bow before turning to follow the three women out of the stall. Leaving Mr. Shori behind gave me an uneasy feeling for a couple of reasons. First, my shift wasn''t over yet, so just walking out felt irresponsible. But more importantly, I was acutely aware that I was walking away from my only backup, surrounded by people who likely didn''t have my best interests at heart. The unnerving thought crossed my mind that if Vega had simply instructed Sapphira to lure me into a trap¡ªperhaps to some secluded alley for a swift and silent disposal¡ªI was marching straight into their plans, eyes wide open and alarmingly naive. ''You''re not very smart, Sera...'' I chided myself internally. ''You really need to work on your trust issues. If you''d been more cautious, maybe you wouldn''t be in messes like this one over and over.'' The whole situation with "Aki" should have been a lesson in itself. There was only a small chance that this was actually a trap, although still a bit too much of one for me in hindsight, but at this stage, it was too late, as I had already committed to it. Ultimately, this was a calculated risk. I simply hoped that my math skills lived up to what I needed them for now. As we walked, I kept vigilant, scanning our surroundings for potential escape routes as well. I was particularly on the lookout for surfaces that could work with my [Wall-Runner] Perk, which seemed like my best shot at a quick getaway should things go south. Despite this preparedness, I knew deep down that the moment I had stepped out of the stall, I might have already sealed my fate. If they decided I was too much of a liability, my chances of making it out unscathed were slim to none...
The journey was marked by an awkward silence, which I was actually grateful for¡ªit gave me some much-needed space to piece together a basic plan for what was coming next. Somehow, I had ended up calling in the favour Vega owed me, a promise made in exchange for delivering Mr. Shori''s crucial intel on the Red Snakes to the Clawed Beasts. There was no way I could just show up, joke about it being a misunderstanding or something, and not expect some serious repercussions. I couldn''t afford to be "disappeared." So, I had quickly crafted a reason for why I needed to cash in this favour now. As we entered the Downpour, the very club where I had first made contact with the Clawed Beasts, memories of that initial mission flooded back. A lot had changed since then, yet even more had remained the same. The main difference was my confidence level; I was far more self-assured in my abilities now. Though still not exactly capable of much, I at least knew which of my very limited strengths I could likely risk to highlight. I was counting on my Ego and Edge to help steer the rest of the conversations¡ªor at least, that was the preliminary plan of action. I was ushered through the club, the receptionist immediately recognizing the trio and waving us through the doors, before I was led past publicly accessible cubicles, through a backroom door, and then up a flight of stairs. With each step, my nerves seemed to crank up a notch, and even my Ego couldn¡¯t smooth over the mounting anxiety. This situation was nerve-wracking, no matter how you sliced it. Surprisingly, I wasn¡¯t the only one feeling the pressure. Both Jade and Sapphira appeared to be on edge as well. Jade''s usually more calm demeanour, if my experience with ¡°Aki¡± was anything to go by, had given way to a noticeable tension, and even Sapphira, so far being the most energetic and aggressive of the group, seemed uncharacteristically timid and uneasy. Ruby, on the other hand, was the outlier; she remained utterly unfazed by the situation, her demeanour as bored and nonchalant as it had been since we left Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. Her indifference in contrast to our anxiety added an eerie calm to the otherwise tense ascent. As we reached a large set of heavy, wooden doors, Sapphira paused and announced, "We''re here," before knocking. We waited briefly, and then, seemingly without prompt, she swung the doors open and ushered us inside. Stepping into the room, a unique aroma hit me¡ªa mix of old leather, the mustiness of ageing paper, and a subtle hint of cigar smoke that seemed embedded into the very walls. It gave the space an air of antiquity and a strange level of authority. The office itself was fairly spacious, dominated by large bookshelves crammed with volumes that looked ancient, their spines creased and faded from years of use. These books filled the far end of the room, creating a backdrop of scholarly clutter. I had maybe seen a handful of books in all of the Neon Dragons playthroughs that I had seen, so seeing a whole, massive bookshelf full of them was more than just a bit impressive. To the right, a cabinet stretched the entire length of the wall, its surface gleaming under the soft, yellow lighting. On the left, a single window opened to a fire escape, offering a bit of a contrast to the room''s more scholarly and laid-back feel¡ªan unmistakable, potential escape route for any dealings gone awry within. In front of the impressive bookshelves sat a massive wooden desk, behind which was a large, plush-looking chair. Vega was there, seated comfortably, blending in almost seamlessly with the surroundings, his presence as commanding as the office he occupied. The whole setting felt like a carefully staged display of power and knowledge, designed to intimidate and impress anyone that came through these doors¡ªand eerily reminiscent of meeting the big boss in old mafia movies from my past life. And I had to admit, it definitely worked on me as I couldn¡¯t help but second-guess my earlier assumptions, ¡®Did I completely misjudge his position¡­? Is he actually the boss of the Clawed Beasts or something¡­?¡¯ As I approached the desk, the three women hung back at the door, remaining silent observers to the unfolding scene. ¡°Ela,¡± Vega began, his voice smooth and composed, just as I remembered it, ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again. I do hope that my girls didn¡¯t cause any undue trouble for you?¡± ''Right to the heart of the matter, masking it with casual concern, huh?'' I mused internally. Vega was clearly not here to exchange pleasantries; he was playing a deeper game. ''I''ll play along, for now¡­'' ¡°As a matter of fact,¡± I replied, my response causing the women behind me to stiffen noticeably, ¡°they did.¡± I let that statement hang in the air, giving Vega the chance to respond. Observing him closely, I searched for any slight indication in his movements, expressions, or emotions that might give me an edge or hint at his true intentions. A contrived frown creased Vega¡¯s face as he gestured towards a chair opposite him. ¡°Oof. Well, isn¡¯t that an issue¡­ Care to elaborate? I¡¯d sure love to know how my girls managed to cause trouble, especially since I explicitly told them not to.¡± His voice maintained its smooth, controlled quality, giving nothing away about his real thoughts or emotions. ¡®Vega is definitely way more experienced with this whole song and dance than I am¡­ I definitely won¡¯t be able to lie my way through here, so the truth will have to do,¡¯ I strategized quickly as I settled into the extremely comfortable cushioned chair. ¡°Ah, see, it¡¯s not explicitly about them doing it on purpose, really. It¡¯s more the fact that you had one of your girls spy on me for the past weeks, that really pisses me off. I was under the impression we had a professional agreement of sorts, to stay out of each other¡¯s hair. But it appears that I was the only one under that impression?¡± I purposefully left out anything regarding Mr. Shori, as I didn¡¯t dare risk jeopardising his position with the Clawed Beasts. This was mostly my fault for getting into this situation, so there was no way I was going to bring him up first. Feeling Vega was about to respond, I cut him off mid-breath and added, ¡°Not to mention one of your girls nearly getting me fucking killed ¡®cause she messed up my op. I even had to go out of my way, save her ass and ended up killing a few of the corpo agents as a result. How do you intend on making up for that, Vega?¡± I realised that I was on thin ice with that aggressive stance, but considering the last time I had interacted with him, he had appreciated my more candid side, I seriously hoped that his behaviour back then hadn¡¯t simply been a cover. At my admission of killing the corpo agent, which I had thrown in hoping to stir some reaction, I heard a surprised gasp from behind me¡ªit was definitely Jade¡¯s, I immediately recognized. Even Vega seemed taken aback by my frank admission, his eyebrow lifting ever so slightly¡ªa small but telling reaction that my Intuition didn''t let me overlook. ¡°That is very problematic¡­¡± Vega admitted, his gaze briefly darting past me to the women waiting at the door. I could almost hear the shift in their posture tightening with tension. Turning his attention back to me, he continued, ¡°I¡¯m sure we will come to an understanding. However, I must clarify that I never intended for things to escalate this way. I was simply seeking more information on you; consider it... Professional interest, if you will.¡± He offered me a variety of drinks, which I promptly declined. In this high-stakes environment, I couldn¡¯t afford any distractions. ¡°One of my girls, Sapphira, informed me that you wanted to call in your favour; is that accurate, or was it merely a way to secure another meeting with my charming self and to highlight the glaring errors my operatives have committed?¡± He asked, his grin carrying a devilish edge. I wasn¡¯t sure if the smirk was meant for me or directed at the women standing a few metres behind me. This was the moment I had mentally prepared for during the trip here, yet I wasn¡¯t ready to fully show my hand. ¡°She was correct. I do want to call in my favour,¡± I responded with a measured nod, noticing a subtle relaxation from the direction of Sapphira. ¡°But before we proceed with that, I¡¯d like to know exactly where you stand. Are we conducting ourselves as professionals here, or are you planning to dance around the issue, hoping I¡¯ll just forget about it?¡± I leaned in closer over the table, lowering my voice and injecting it with a chill that would have made Valeria proud, "One of your operatives nearly got me killed, Vega. Not injured, or maimed; but killed. I''m in trouble with Falkum Industries because they now have dead to deal with as a result of your operative messing up my operation. I had already secured my package but turned back because your operative would''ve been mincemeat without my intervention. "And that is all despite my explicit policy of not interacting with you, the Clawed Beasts, or the Byte Wolves in any capacity. I¡¯ve kept my side of the unspoken agreement, yet you¡¯ve trampled over every single aspect of it. Do you want me as an enemy after the favour is dealt with? Because from where I''m standing, it certainly looks like it; the complete and utter lack of respect from you is beyond insulting." The atmosphere in the office as I finished my rant was so thick I could barely breathe. Even the three women at the door seemed to freeze in place, their breaths held as we all waited for Vega¡¯s response. ¡®That might have been way too much¡­ Please don¡¯t kill me,¡¯ I thought, suddenly aware that I very much might have drastically overplayed my hand. I had gotten too caught up in trying to turn the tables on him, forgetting my actual position in this negotiation¡ªa complete nobody. My internal panicking was not transmitted to the outside world, however, as my Edge and Ego Attributes were once again working overtime, making sure that I kept a cool and collected outward appearance as I stared down Jade¡¯s boss directly across from me, waiting for his reply¡­ Chapter 62 - Poetry The tension and silence in the room was so stifling, I swear I could hear Jade''s heartbeat from a dozen metres behind me. Vega''s expression remained impassive, his face a mask of stone as we locked gazes, neither of us willing to back down after my bold declaration. I was tempted to retract my previous statement, realising in the heat of the moment that I might have pushed way too far, but I knew that doing so would only weaken my position and potentially jeopardise my chances of walking away without harm. ''Why didn¡¯t you fucking stop me, System?! You¡¯re supposed to help, not let me dive headfirst into disaster like this!'' I lamented internally, my frustration shifting from self-blame to blaming anything else I could think of to cope with the crushing weight of Vega¡¯s unwavering stare. It felt like an eternity had passed in this deadlock, with cold sweat trickling down my back from the effort to maintain a facade of composure, when unexpectedly, a voice broke the tense silence¡ªa voice neither Vega nor I anticipated would intervene at that moment. ¡°I¡¯ll repay you,¡± came Jade¡¯s voice from behind, her tone resolute. ¡°I¡¯ll work off the debt I incurred with my mistakes; Vega has no part in this. It should be me who fixes my own mistakes.¡± "Jade!" Both Ruby and Sapphira exclaimed in unison, surprise evident in their voices. Yet, they restrained themselves from saying anything further, recognizing that this was not a moment for open disputes and breaking their unison. I was completely caught off guard by Jade''s intervention, so much so that even my usually reliable Ego and Edge couldn''t mask my surprise. Fortunately, it seemed Vega was equally taken aback, as I caught him almost leaping from his chair at Jade''s words. ¡°Don¡¯t speak out of turn, Jade,¡± he stated sharply, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. He then forcibly composed himself, sinking back into his chair with a heavy sigh, and turned his attention back to me. ¡°I must apologise for my operative¡¯s impulsive words... She¡¯s still new to a lot of this¡ª¡± ¡°I accept her proposal,¡± I cut in firmly, regaining my composure and returning to my cold, calculated demeanour after momentarily showing surprise when Jade spoke up. I leaned back in my chair, re-asserting, ¡°I choose to accept your operative¡¯s proposal, Vega. She might be new, and the last time she was involved in one of my operations, she nearly got us both killed... But I can respect the earnest wish to atone for one¡¯s own mistakes. And if she ends up being more of a hindrance than a help, then I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t be missing an operative like that momentarily.¡± After all, it seemed like he was very much aware of her lack of expertise. Losing her for a few days, weeks or potentially even months, depending on how long she¡¯d be working with me, was unlikely to be too much of a problem for him¡ªor so I thought. I could immediately see that Vega was holding himself back¡ªa lot. His mask of impassivity had shattered, and I could see the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he ground his teeth; he was downright seething with anger. ¡®Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell am I doing?! Just drop the whole thing with Jade already, what the fuck are you thinking?! You¡¯re going to get yourself killed, you idiot! She¡¯s not worth it!¡¯ I berated myself internally, my face betraying none of the internal turmoil swirling within. Surprisingly, Vega''s first words, heavy with restraint, were not directed at me. ¡°Sapphira, leave the room. Now.¡± I didn¡¯t dare turn around, fully realising that he had likely ordered her out as a precaution to keep her from attacking me. All I heard were a few seconds of heavy breathing and barely restrained fury, followed by uncharacteristically heavy footsteps stomping out of the room. She slammed the door behind her with such force that it echoed throughout the space. The loud crash of the door felt oddly relieving, as if some of the oppressive tension had exited the room along with Sapphira. However, I quickly realised that this might just be my own wishful thinking, as Vega still appeared to be simmering with barely contained anger and tension. Vega exhaled a long sigh and redirected his focus to me. ¡°I must once again apologise for my operative¡¯s lack of decorum¡­ They''re all fairly new to this business, so emotions run a bit hot at times,¡± he said, bowing slightly. It was clear that his apology wasn¡¯t entirely sincere¡ªit felt more like a way to save face given the circumstances. ¡°About my operative¡¯s proposal... I¡¯m sure you''d find many of my other operatives more useful to someone with your talents than Jade. Her heart¡¯s in the right place, but she has a long way to go to be considered a fully trained operative. I¡¯m sure you understand?¡± ¡®Someone with my talents¡­? What does he even think I am?¡¯ I thought, a bit thrown off by his phrasing. ¡®I barely survived a handful of goons with guns, but he seems to think I¡¯m way more capable than someone like Jade? She at least has actual training in any of this!¡¯ It was almost as if Vega had built me up into something more than I was in his own mind or something. I could tell he was trying to steer me away from accepting Jade''s proposal, but I had no idea why he seemed convinced that I''d be better off with more experienced operatives. Perhaps it was his way of keeping his original plan intact, or maybe he really believed that my skills warranted a different level of assistance. Either way, I felt like I was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. I heard Jade inhale sharply and open her mouth behind me, but a sharp, intense glance from Vega silenced her immediately. ''How the hell did I end up in a scenario that feels like a complete repeat of my dealings with Mr. Stirling and Valeria; just mirrored? Jade, trying hard not to be seen as a burden, eager to contribute to the repayment of an unintended debt incurred... It''s eerily familiar, isn''t it?'' I mused internally. On one hand, I really wanted to stop complicating my situation further in this discussion, but on the other, I saw a perfect opportunity to keep Jade involved. I had already technically accepted her offer once; backing out now felt like ceding ground I wasn¡¯t ready to relinquish¡ªeven if, technically, opting for a more seasoned operative might be the smarter choice. Bringing a more experienced operative into the fold could be incredibly beneficial for my future data collection tasks, yet it also carried quite significant risks: Notably, the risk of discovery. Whatever Vega thought he knew about me, it almost assuredly contradicted the reality of the situation. An experienced operative would likely be able to tell that I was just fumbling around in the dark with just about anything I did; or worse, might even realise there was something off about me¡ªthe System¡¯s influence was getting harder and harder to hide and I hadn¡¯t come up with any coherent-enough excuse quite yet, as to why I could do the things I could. ''Jade really is the best option for me, no matter how I slice it,'' I concluded. ''Not only is she inexperienced enough that my novice-level deceptions might still work on her, but she has also demonstrated a strong sense of personal accountability, considering she mentioned not telling anyone about my [Wall-Runner] Perk. If her words can be trusted, that is¡­'' My goals at the moment were straightforward:
  1. Get out of this situation alive.
  2. Exit unharmed and, if possible, without causing undue harm to others.
  3. Try to ensure Jade remained assigned to me, because, frankly, she seemed the least capable of effectively doing that job from all the possible options I had seen¡ªsorry, Jade!
With those things in mind the path forward was clear; albeit very dangerous. "With all due respect," I began, letting a bit of frost return to my tone, "I believe I have already stated that I will accept her proposal, have I not? Unless you''re suggesting I go back on my word?" By now, it was clear enough to me that there was something that Vega thought I was, that kept him from simply ¡°disappearing¡± me¡ªor so I hoped. With that assumption as the backbone of my current personality, I did my best to play into the role of whatever he believed I was, as best I could. To say that I was taking a lot of pages out of Valeria¡¯s book would likely not come as a surprise; although I would never openly admit that. ¡°Of course not!¡± Vega responded surprisingly quickly and intently. ¡°I was merely trying to offer some better options; that¡¯s all. If you are satisfied with the operative in question, then Jade will be your liaison and follow your commands until the debt is repaid¡­¡± It was clear he was uncomfortable with the concession; his voice shifted from its usual laid-back, suave tone to a colder, more business-like demeanour. ¡°As for the finer details of this arrangement, I trust you won¡¯t be running my operative ragged or exposing her to any unnecessary dangers?¡± he added, his tone sharp with an unmistakable edge. ¡°Naturally. I saved her life; there¡¯s no point in wasting it now. I wouldn¡¯t ask her to do anything I wouldn¡¯t do myself either,¡± I responded quickly, having anticipated this line of questioning. Unfortunately, my reply seemed to reignite a brief flare of anger in his eyes, prompting me instinctively to shift my hands towards the knife at my back. As quickly as the anger appeared, however, it dissipated, and he leaned back in his chair, seemingly to signal that he was no threat. ¡°That¡¯s the most I can hope for, then¡­¡± he muttered, his voice barely audible, before elevating it back to a normal level. ¡°Let¡¯s shift to the pressing matter at hand then, shall we? You¡¯ve come to cash in the favour I owe you. What can the Clawed Beasts do for someone like you, Ela?¡± ¡®Again with that ¡°someone like you¡±... Just what does this guy think I am?!¡¯ I pondered, slightly irked by his phrasing and the implications behind it. Despite my complete and utter confusion at his choice of words and the surprising deference he showed, which had undoubtedly played a significant role in navigating this convoluted discussion, I was actually prepared for this part of the conversation. This gave me a slight boost of confidence for my next move. ¡°I need an introduction to an Operator affiliated with the OPN; preferably someone willing to vouch for me,¡± I stated clearly and confidently. ¡°To be clear: I require an OPN Operator licence for myself. I¡¯m certain the Clawed Beasts have at least one or two Operator contacts they could introduce me to, right?¡± Behind me, I heard some shuffling as I spoke these words, but nothing indicated anyone was approaching me. Vega seemed momentarily stunned, his usually controlled facial expressions¡ªonly briefly disrupted during our previous discussion about Jade¡ªnow completely marred by utter disbelief. ¡®Did¡­ Did I just fuck up again?¡¯ I wondered internally, reevaluating the words I had just spoken. In Neon Dragons, the only way to get a licence was to be vouched for by an existing Operator and apply, as far as I remembered. But I suddenly realised that, if this world operated differently in terms of acquiring an Operator licence, I might have just exposed how little I actually knew about what I was requesting¡ªsomething that might disillusion Vega of whatever he thought was going on with me and, subsequently, remove the protection it clearly seemed to provide. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The silence that followed my request felt more oppressive than anything before, despite the previous hostility having mostly subsided. The sheer disbelief and confusion on Vega''s face, now fully visible without his usual poker face, sent my anxiety into overdrive. Unable to stop myself from clarifying, as I felt the crushing weight of potential ridicule hanging over me, I pushed on, ¡°The Clawed Beasts do have an Operator contact capable of fulfilling my requests, yes?¡± That question seemed to snap Vega back into his professional mode as his poker face slid back into place, providing me a slight reprieve. ¡°Ah, naturally. Yes, of course... My apologies, I was taken aback by the¡­ simplicity of the request,¡± he explained smoothly. ¡°I can certainly arrange such a meeting for you, though I must clarify that I cannot guarantee the Operator will vouch for you independently. They are contacts; none of them are directly affiliated with the Clawed Beasts. I trust that¡¯s acceptable?¡± His response was more or less what I had anticipated, so I nodded firmly, then stood up with a sense of purpose. ¡°Then that settles my favour. Once the meeting is arranged, I consider our accounts settled,¡± I declared, feeling a mix of relief and determination. Turning to Jade, who still looked completely taken aback by how the conversation had unfolded, I quickly sent her a request for her contact details through my cerebral interface, then did the same with Vega. ¡°Since our last unspoken agreement didn¡¯t pan out as expected, I¡¯ll be clear this time: I will not engage with the Clawed Beasts or Byte Wolves on my own initiative, as long as you ensure your people stay clear of me and mine as well. Please communicate that to your operatives. The only exception will be Jade herself, who will act as my liaison in any dealings with the Clawed Beasts until her debt is considered settled. Are we in agreement on this, Vega?¡± This time around, I wasn¡¯t leaving anything to chance. I wanted a solid, verbal agreement on my terms and conditions. The revelation that ¡°Aki¡± had been sent by Vega to spy on me and Mr. Shori had really opened my eyes¡ªI couldn¡¯t just assume people would see our relationships the way I did. If I wanted them, especially a faction like this, to behave in a specific way, I¡¯d have to spell it out for them instead of hoping they¡¯d figure it out on their own. ¡°That seems reasonable¡­¡± Vega replied, though his hesitation was evident. He was clearly not thrilled with some aspects of my conditions, but as long as he agreed, his personal feelings were irrelevant to me¡ªI just wanted to extricate myself from this whole mess as fast as possible. ¡°May I assume that the contact request is a sign that you¡¯re open to consider requests from our end if the payment is adequate?¡± he asked somewhat cautiously, catching me off guard. I had sent the contact request as a practical measure, to have a direct line to Vega in case Sapphira decided to pay an unexpected visit or if I encountered issues with other members of the Clawed Beasts or even the Byte Wolves. It was clear by now that Vega wielded significant influence within his organisation; whatever his actual job descriptions entailed. But now he was implying a more transactional relationship between the two of us, asking about accepting requests and discussing payment¡­? ¡®Seriously¡­ What is this guy¡¯s deal?¡¯ I wondered, perplexed by his angle and what he thought I could possibly offer them in return. Requests and payment sounded like Tasks, which was exactly what I was after; it was the whole reason I had pursued this course of action in regards to the favour repayment in the first place. Getting an OPN licence was to gain access to Fixers, to get Tasks. So, if I could snag some extra work from the Clawed Beasts directly, there was no reason to refuse, as long as I made it clear that I wasn¡¯t joining their gang¡ªI had no interest in being a ganger. ¡°As an external contractor, of sorts¡­ I would say that your assumptions are correct, as long as we stay on good terms,¡± I replied, infusing my words with a bit of Valeria¡¯s precision to ensure my position was crystal clear. That seemed to put Vega at ease; even through his stoic facade, I could see the tension ease from his shoulders. ¡°Happy to do business with you, Ela,¡± he said, extending a handshake that I hesitantly accepted¡ªfully aware it might be a trap, but unable to find a polite way to decline without coming off as overly hostile. ¡°Likewise,¡± I responded almost instinctively. Sometimes, old habits just kick in. Fortunately, Vega didn¡¯t seem to have any sinister plans for me today, and he allowed me to leave his office and the building without any further complications. The moment I stepped out of the Downpour, I sprinted to the nearest alley and violently threw up twice. ''That was way too fucking stressful, holy fuck!'' I was an absolute mess by now, barely able to stand as the adrenaline that had fueled me through the last hour finally tapered off, leaving me completely drained. With shaky steps I headed straight to the nearest restricted elevator, desperate for the relative safety of my home floor, replaying the events of the past hour over and over in my head. ¡®This was absolutely insane, what the fuck were you thinking, Sera?! You¡¯re out here playing hard to get with a fucking mafia boss of sorts? What happened to staying safe, to being careful?! All that for a fucking girl that nearly got you killed, just because you¡¯re a bit lonely? You¡¯re absolutely fucking cooked, Sera!¡¯ My mind raced with these thoughts, struggling to process the sheer absurdity of what had just transpired. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had somehow gotten unfathomably lucky. If it weren¡¯t for Vega¡¯s strange perception of me, which I still couldn¡¯t quite pin down, I probably wouldn''t have walked away from that meeting. For all I knew, that could have been the end of my story, right there in his office. ''I definitely need to keep him believing whatever he thinks about me, no matter what it takes,'' I decided, adding it to the top of my list of priorities, right below not pissing off Valeria¡­
PoV: Jade Watching Ela confidently stride past Sapphira on her way out of the office, Jade held her breath, half-expecting her sister to lash out in a moment of sheer recklessness. To her relief, however, Sapphira managed to contain her immediate anger, instead choosing to storm back into the office and slam the door behind her with a resounding thud. She then fixed Vega with a glare that could scorch the very earth, a reaction that, while intense, was thankfully less destructive than Jade had feared. ¡°How could you let that girl just walk all over you like that, Vega?! What the fuck was that?!¡± Sapphira exploded, her voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. ¡°You just gave up Jade like it was nothing, even after that fucking bitch blatantly said she¡¯d off her if she became useless?! What is wrong with you?! We should have just slit her throat right there and then!¡± Vega remained seated behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he absorbed Sapphira¡¯s tirade with a calm that only seemed to infuriate her more. Jade felt torn. She wanted to step in, to explain, to calm the storm, but the words eluded her. It was evident that Sapphira didn¡¯t fully grasp Ela¡¯s capabilities or the potential danger she posed; if she had, her approach might not have been so brash. Despite their numbers, taking Ela down wouldn¡¯t have been as straightforward as Sapphira thought. Yes, they might have succeeded if it came to a fight, but the cost would have been high¡ªfar too high, particularly given Jade''s current condition, which left her more a liability than an asset in any physical confrontation. ¡°I was left with no choice,¡± Vega finally spoke up, cutting off Sapphira¡¯s brewing storm before it could fully unleash itself. ¡°Once Jade intervened, my hands were tied. I attempted to steer Ela towards a different option; however, she¡¯s proven to be far more vicious than I initially thought... I hate to admit it, but I definitely underestimated her. I feel like it might have been a massive mistake to ever engage with her at all, past the delievery she did for Yan Shori... But we''re in too deep now to pull back; at the very least, she agreed to a tentative alliance. That''s worth quite a lot to us.¡± Jade found herself nodding in agreement with Vega¡¯s admission. She had known Ela better and for longer than anyone else present, yet the version of Ela that had shown up today was completely unfamiliar. The cold, calculated, and¡ªfor lack of a better term¡ªdownright corporate demeanour of her negotiation had blindsided even Vega. Jade had only wanted to alleviate some of her perceived burden on Vega, given how ruthlessly Ela had highlighted Jade''s mistake and demanded compensation. Yet now, she couldn¡¯t shake off the feeling that she had unwittingly played into Ela''s strategy by speaking up. Ela¡¯s immediate acceptance, rejecting the offer of more seasoned operatives without hesitation, clearly indicated she had a specific plan. ¡®What does she expect me to do for her? She is not the type of person to possibly want revenge for the mess I caused, is she¡­?¡¯ ¡°Why are you even negotiating with some random girl like that in the first place?! How did you end up owing her a favour?! Since when are the Clawed Beasts so weak that we can¡¯t even intimidate a random fucking girl? Am I losing my mind here?!¡± Sapphira continued, her voice further rising in frustration and utter disbelief. Her confusion and anger were beyond evident as she struggled to grasp just how Vega, usually so in control of everything, could have been manoeuvred into such a clearly losing position by someone as initially unassuming as Ela. Vega let out a heavy sigh and leaned all the way back in his chair, his hands massaging his temples. ¡°I¡¯ve definitely messed up here¡­ I should have briefed Ruby and you before letting you accompany Jade,¡± he admitted. Rising from his chair, he walked around the desk and gestured for the three of them to come closer. ¡°Listen, Sapphira: Ela is not who she seems to be. She¡¯s far more capable than we realised. There¡¯s a good reason I wanted Jade to learn more about her. She¡¯s incredibly difficult to read, even for me. It always seems like she¡¯s completely out of the loop, until suddenly she blindsides you with something you didn¡¯t even realise she was setting up. She¡¯s an extremely shrewd negotiator¡­¡± Sapphira¡¯s sceptical look made it clear she wasn¡¯t convinced by Vega¡¯s explanation at all, which only prompted a knowing smirk from him¡ªa reaction he seemed to have anticipated. ¡°I see you don¡¯t believe me¡­ Then how about this, Sapphira. A simple test: Retrace her exact steps out of this office and the Downpour. If you manage that, I''ll allow you to kill her yourself; right now.¡± Sapphira looked visibly offended by Vega¡¯s suggestion. This was one of the earliest things they had learned from him: How to track another person on most surfaces. So for him to request her, who had long graduated from these simple exercises to a lot more complicated tasks, to do this, it seemed like a bad joke. But when she realised he was serious, she huffed in annoyance and stared at the ground before her, stopping dead in her tracks. It was supposed to be an exceedingly simple task, given the parameters. The office floor was covered in fluffy carpeting, typically leaving obvious footprints behind¡ªunder normal circumstances. Yet as Jade also turned her gaze to the floor, following Sapphira¡¯s more intense scrutiny, she immediately understood what Vega had noticed the moment Ela had exited the room. Ela had employed her inexplicable, traceless method of movement once again; the same one Jade had reported when she had first seen it on the muddy floor of the Shori¡¯s Noodles food stall. There was not a single footprint of hers to be found anywhere in the office¡ªneither at the door, nor near the chair she had been sitting in, nor anywhere in between. There wasn''t even an indentation on the fluffly cushions of the chair she had set on, nor any residue of sweat on the table she had rested her arms on; nothing. It was as if she had never physically entered the office at all. ¡°What the¡­¡± Sapphira muttered, her frustration mounting as she circled the office with increasing urgency. After a thorough but fruitless inspection, she returned to the group, her face a picture of disbelief, and turned to Vega, stammering, ¡°How¡­?¡± Jade half-expected a triumphant smirk from Vega, but instead, he responded with a weary, exhausted smile, ¡°Honestly? I have no idea. There are high-level cybernetics that could theoretically do something like this, but given her age, it''s practically impossible she has access to any of those; they¡¯d be far too invasive for her body to handle anyway, even if she did have the creds. And she doesn¡¯t appear to be genetically altered¡ªshe lacks any features like FelPaws, which would be non-functional with the combat boots she was wearing anyway¡­¡± Vega locked eyes with Sapphira, his voice gaining an edge of intensity, ¡°This is why I''m negotiating with this ''random'' girl, Sapphira. Because she makes no damn sense. If we can figure out what she¡¯s up to and how she manages these feats, we might be sitting on a goldmine. It¡¯s far better to keep her close and possibly on our side, than to have her as an adversary, no matter how you look at it." He continued to ponder aloud, a speculative tone in his voice, ¡°Especially considering her request... I had assumed she was already an Operator, but since she¡¯s not registered with the OPN, that theory falls short. She could be a Corporate Agent, perhaps? Maybe something Black-Site or R&D related? What else would she possibly need an Operator licence for¡­?¡± The room fell silent, Vega''s thoughts hanging heavily in the air. Jade felt particularly out of her depth, struggling to keep up with the implications of Vega''s deductions about Ela''s mysterious abilities and motives. He let out another sigh, adding to what must have been a record number of sighs from him in such a short span of time. His fatigue was more than evident, a clear sign of his mental exhaustion from the encounter with Ela. He continued, ¡°If push comes to shove, we can have Dyke handle her, but let''s consider that a last resort. Sapphira, try to keep your hostility in check. It¡¯s not helping; least of all Jade, who¡¯ll now have to interact with Ela on a regular basis. We can''t afford to make Ela into an enemy, not after we finally got an agreement on her potentially taking on some of ours requests in the future.¡± Turning his attention to Jade, his expression softened slightly but the seriousness in his voice remained. ¡°I hope you realise the kind of dangerous situation you¡¯ve just signed yourself up for... I really wish you hadn¡¯t done that. I can''t protect you like this, Jade. Don¡¯t ever do something stupid like that again. Are we clear?¡± With a quick, solemn nod, Jade replied, ¡°Yes, I understand... I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to cause more trouble. It¡¯s my mess, and I didn¡¯t think it through. But I promise I¡¯ll do my best to prevent anything like this from happening again. Thank you, Vega.¡± With those words, they spent the next while strategizing. Vega took the opportunity to bring Ruby and Sapphira up to speed, sharing everything they knew about Ela and discussing how best to proceed with caution. The atmosphere was tense, but it was clear that they all understood they had entered the next step of their plans in regards to Ela, whatever those entailed... Chapter 63 - Important Preparations Inside the restricted elevator on the way back to my home floor, I was greeted by a few System Notifications.
[System]: 400xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: [Negotiation] Skill has reached Level 1. [System]: 200xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Edge Attribute.
¡®Looks like this is also one of the delayed Skills; although definitely a lot less delayed than [Deception] was...¡¯ I thought just as I felt the knowledge download begin. It laid out foundational negotiation tactics akin to those taught in what I¡¯d imagine to be an advanced business course at college or similar. The first thing that truly filled my mind was the concept of "anchoring". This tactic involved setting the initial number or demand in a negotiation to set the stage for the entire discussion. For example, if I wanted to negotiate a higher payment for a task in the future, starting with a high initial offer would make subsequent lower offers seem more reasonable, even if they were still above the usual rate. Additionally, it was common to round up or down to the nearest even number in a lot of situations. So anchoring with an initial payment request that is extremely uneven and has no clear ¡°next even neighbour¡±, so to speak, would allow me to control the rough level of where my gains would lie even better. Next, I grasped the idea of "mirroring and matching". This technique involved subtly copying the body language, speech patterns, or attitudes of the person you''re negotiating with to build rapport and make them more receptive to your own proposals. If they leaned back casually, doing the same might make the conversation flow more smoothly and make them feel more at ease. While this was something I had been doing anyway, just as a general side-effect of my extremely poor social skills relying on other people to really teach me how to be a real person, it was nice to know that this wasn¡¯t actually a bad thing; but instead something that was passively helping me in a lot of situations. Lastly, the skill download included an understanding of what was called "framing". This strategy was about presenting information in a way that specifically highlighted the benefits to the other party. For example, if I were trying to get someone to accept a risky job, I would frame it as an opportunity for significant career advancement and exposure, rather than focusing on the potential dangers. While it was important to not hide or lie about the problems, by downplaying them appropriately but still including them, it was possible to create an image of a well thought out idea with limited risk potential. A lot of these technique were things that felt somewhat ¡°natural¡± to a degree, as a lot of it was mostly stuff I had been doing to begin with, just as a consequence of how I interacted with people in general, but the more nuanced and minute details that came with each technique as a result of the knowledge download would undoubtedly come in handy going forward. The knowledge download was also perfectly timed with the elevator dinging and opening its doors for me on the 44th floor. Back on my home floor, I hastily made my way to the apartment, craving nothing more than a hot shower to wash away the day¡¯s tensions. Along the way, I had enough of a mind to quickly shoot a message to Mr. Shori, reassuring him that everything had gone well and that I was safe¡ªI didn''t want him worrying too much, especially after the intense goodbye under such precarious circumstances. ¡®I still can¡¯t believe that all actually worked out,¡¯ I mulled over as I unlocked my door, utterly baffled by how my hard-ball play with Vega had somehow fallen perfectly into place. Not only had I secured a contact with an Operator who might vouch for me with the OPN, opening up avenues for future Fixer-related tasks, but I had also managed to have Jade assigned to me, almost like a subordinate. Although she remained a Clawed Beasts member and warranted cautious interaction, it was clear she was keen on staying in my good graces¡ªa perfect setup for a liaison. Moreover, by some stroke of cosmic luck, I had also managed to get Vega to consider offering me potential tasks in the future. ¡®What exactly does he think I can do for him? I¡¯ve only done like three courier jobs, one of which nearly got me killed... A success rate of one out of three is hardly stellar, but I suppose that¡¯s good enough for him?¡¯ The thought crossed my mind with a mix of amusement and disbelief. But these were all problems for future-Sera to sort out. One thing present-Sera had to deal with, however, was getting ready for the Operator contact Vega had promised. He''d said it would take a few days to set everything up and choose the Operator, so I had around a week or so to make myself presentable. Just meeting an Operator wasn¡¯t enough, after all. I had to somehow convince them that a 15-year-old kid like me was worth vouching for. And given my current skill set, I had serious doubts about getting anyone to put their name on the line for me. Vouching wasn¡¯t just simply saying, "Hey, this person¡¯s not a cop" or something like that; it was a serious process. If the Operator you vouched for messed up big-time, your reputation took a massive hit too. It could straight up ruin a career if it got bad enough. That¡¯s why I needed to come up with a compelling sales pitch. Something that would convince this Operator Vega found that I wasn¡¯t going to get them into trouble. Ideally, I could make myself seem like an asset, but the bare minimum was to avoid looking like a walking PR disaster. It was the same game I¡¯d been playing with Valeria for the past weeks¡ªtrying to prove I was more than just a clueless teen¡ªbut this time with a focus on the Operator mindset. I had to figure out what made me valuable to them and why taking a risk on me might just pay off. It wasn''t going to be easy, but I''d figure something out. I always did¡ªor so I hoped. Jumping under the shower, I let the hot water cascade over me, trying to wash away the stress as I mulled over how best to use the upcoming week, considering my current commitments. ''I''ve got two more sessions with Miss K before next week; the next one''s in about three days...'' I thought, hoping these sessions could shore up my rather basic combat skills. ''But what about close to medium range? I can''t just charge at people with my knife if things go sideways. A shooting range would be ideal, but getting a gun isn''t exactly kid-friendly either¡ªtoo risky to carry it around.'' As the steam filled the bathroom, I felt the last of the day¡¯s tension ebb away, and the remnants of my nauseous episode wash down the drain¡ªa definite bonus that I wasn¡¯t going to complain about! ''Maybe throwing knives would be a better option?'' I considered, rolling the idea around in my mind. ''I''ve already levelled up that Skill quite a bit, and with my [Sharpen] Perk, they¡¯d probably be quite deadly. Plus, if things really go south, [Blademaster¡¯s Throw] could even the odds. It''s a one-shot deal, and if I miss I¡¯m in deep shit, but it¡¯s better than nothing. I don¡¯t plan on diving into any Bounty Hunter-type missions anytime soon anyway. Probably going to stick to Data-Collection tasks for starters...'' As I continued pondering my potential offerings, it was clear that netrunning could be a major part of my skill set as well. I hadn¡¯t actually hacked anything outside of simulations yet, but I¡¯d done a ton of groundwork on the necessary Skills and even unlocked a few Perks that could help with it. The real issue was my stark lack of real-world experience. I hadn¡¯t even finished the SPG-01 shard''s Quick-Hacks tutorial, so I hadn¡¯t gotten my hands on my first library of code snippets yet. I could try cobbling together my own subroutines or code segments, but realistically, without access to professionally written examples and not being able to dissect them for tips and tricks, it was probably going to be a waste of time. If there was one thing I remembered about programming from my past life, it was that your first attempt at writing code was always a disaster. So, diving into netrunning without a solid foundation could be more of a liability than an asset at this point. I¡¯d need to make sure I had a firm grasp on the basics and perhaps some professional insights before I could really include it in my pitch as a dependable skill. As I considered the feasibility of significantly advancing my netrunning skills within a week, I reflected on my journey with the SPG-01 shard so far. Though I had been in this world for several weeks, my actual time spent with the shard was sporadic and far less compared to some of my other skills. However, the progress I had made was surprisingly solid. Much of this rapid progression could likely be accredited to the [Mentor Bonus] provided by Kill Joy''s digital alter ego and the structured learning path laid out for me, which spared me from having to stumble through the learning process on my own. If I spent some more serious working-hours on completing the shard and then went out to get some real-life experience playing around with my deck and whatever Quick-Hacks Kill Joy was willing to hand over, I might just be able to pass as a beginner netrunner by the time the Operator meeting rolls around. ¡®Could this actually work?¡¯ I pondered with a flicker of optimism. ¡®But it would mean sacrificing my usual grinding for experience points. If I skip the Rest Function every night, that''s eight uninterrupted hours extra I could devote to honing my netrunning skills. That¡¯s a significant time investment, and right now, actual hands-on experience and knowledge are far more valuable than levelling up my other Skills...¡¯ This shift in focus felt right, considering the upcoming challenges. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Putting a pin into that plan and considering trying it out for this very night, at the least, I finished up the shower for now and got myself dressed in my Operator outfit. If I wanted to be taken seriously, I¡¯d need some extra gear. ¡®I¡¯m sorry Gabe¡­! Repayment for the shard is gonna have to wait just a tiny bit longer. I swear I¡¯m working as hard as I can on getting the Credits together, but I just keep getting into situations where I need to spend the little I earn!¡¯ I lamented internally, as I checked my current balance.
[=== Account: Seraphine Vildea ===] [Credits: 130 {c}]
¡®That¡¯s... really not a lot. But if I can''t get a gun, I need to at least secure some throwing knives. It''s better to commit early and master them than to delay and scramble to find a solution when it¡¯s too late. Procrastination may be my middle name, but this time around, I can¡¯t afford that luxury¡­¡¯ I reasoned, feeling the weight of necessity pushing me towards a decision. There was only really one place I could go to that would likely have what I needed and that was willing to be generous with the prices. It was time to pay Misha¡¯s Emporium another visit¡ªI swear I didn¡¯t plan to simply go there because I missed the oddly cute Gryplik. I seriously needed gear as well¡­!
It felt kinda weird being back on the 31st floor, but not in a bad way¡ªjust one of those "huh, been a minute" kind of vibes. I''d been way too busy lately, so taking a leisurely stroll, just window shopping and checking out the scene, was actually kinda fun. Not that I could afford to buy anything, of course. My credit count was pretty abysmal, so my current shopping strategy was "look but don¡¯t touch." Still, it was good to take a breather and just wander. But yeah, I made sure not to dawdle too much. With that OPN licence on my mind, I didn¡¯t have a lot of time to waste and way too much to prep for still. After about half an hour¡ªthanks to a few shops catching my eye¡ªI found myself outside Misha''s Emporium. The place hadn''t changed a bit, which was comforting. With all the chaos that''d been my life lately, it was nice to see something familiar. Consistency was always wildly underrated when you were juggling a bunch of mafia-like gang issues back-to-back, I always said. My life¡¯s motto, really. As I stood outside, I couldn''t help but think about Misha. ¡®I really don''t get why some people have beef with Grypliks,¡¯ I thought, shaking my head in disbelief. ¡®They''re literally the best possible shop owners to have around, no question. You want quality, you go Gryplik. Simple as that.¡¯ Stepping into Misha''s Emporium, I was greeted by the same small reception area as last time, but thankfully, minus the chaos of Misha scrambling to pick up items hurled around by less-than-friendly visitors. It was a definite upgrade from my last visit. Scanning the room, I didn''t see a service bell or any sign of Misha herself. ¡®Maybe she''s in the back? But, uh, I can''t just waltz in there, right? How do people even do shopping in stores like this¡­?¡¯ I puzzled over it for a moment before deciding not to just stand around like a lost puppy. After a minute of no signs of life, I raised my voice, calling towards the backroom I remembered from my previous visit. ¡°Misha?¡± The name echoed a bit more than I expected. Almost immediately, there was a thump from behind the counter, startling me. I watched as Misha popped up like a jack-in-the-box, her eyes squinting as if she''d been caught mid-nap. ¡®Was she seriously snoozing behind there?¡¯ I wondered, trying not to openly chuckle. Her expression morphed from sleepy confusion to recognition in a heartbeat. ¡°Ah! Customer! Welcome to Misha¡¯s Emporium! How can Misha be of service?¡± she chirped, shaking off her drowsiness as she slipped into her shopkeeper persona. I couldn''t help but flash a wide grin, amused by the whole bizarre yet endearing situation. ¡°Ela needs throwing knives, so Ela figured it was time to pay Misha another visit, as promised!¡± I announced, a bit overenthusiastically. Something about the Gryplik''s goofy yet completely serious vibe was infectious, making it hard not to match her energy. A moment of awkward silence passed between us, and I started to wonder if she''d completely forgotten who I was. Her ruby-crystal eyes darted over my whole body, taking me in, then settled on my hair. Suddenly, her eyes widened unnaturally, and she squeaked, ¡°Friend Ela! Ela has returned!¡± Misha bolted around the counter, stopping just a few centimetres in front of me. The concept of personal space clearly wasn¡¯t a thing for her as her massive grin showcased her bright green teeth. ¡°Whoa, Ela has changed a lot!¡± she commented, scrutinising my hair and clothes. ¡°And filled out the clothes a lot, too! Misha is very happy to see this!¡± I just stood there, letting her do her thing. A happy Misha was a happy Sera, and her compliments were kind of nice. No harm in letting her gush a bit. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped, locked eyes with me, and asked, ¡°Can Misha touch?¡± Her eyes kept darting up to my hair, fascinated by its near-2D appearance, courtesy of the VoniX-Black colour that had been applied to it. I really couldn''t blame her; it was pretty mesmerising, even to me. And I saw it every day; multiple times! ¡°Go ahead,¡± I replied with a smile. ¡°It''s VoniX-Black; quite expensIIIEEE¡ª!¡± I was cut off by my own surprised squeal as Misha''s hands suddenly roamed my body, feeling my shoulders, sides, and even my hips with a thoroughness I didn''t expect; prodding, squeezing and pinching me from every possible ¡ªand humanly impossible¡ªangle, thanks to her triple-jointed arms giving her more flexibility than I would¡¯ve ever imagined possible. It seemed like my hair wasn''t what she had been interested in touching after all. I was so taken aback by Misha''s hands-on approach that I didn''t even think to protest; not that I minded too much, as she had asked for permission first. I might have misunderstood her intentions, but I had agreed, and it was clear Misha''s actions weren''t malicious. I just stood there, letting the Gryplik assess my body¡ªwhich sounded way more lewd than it really was¡ªuntil she finally stepped back, looking quite thoughtful. ¡°If Ela continues to fill out at this rate, Misha will have to remake Ela¡¯s outfit from scratch¡­¡± she murmured, more to herself than to me. "Ahh, no worries, Misha! Ela is unlikely to continue growing like this... More of a growth spurt than anything, Ela thinks," I chimed in quickly, not wanting to be seen as some freak of nature who could morph from small and scrawny to muscular in a week and keep up that pace. While the System did allow for rapid gains in muscle and skills, it wasn''t that dramatic all the way through. Misha eyed me sceptically, giving me another once-over before gesturing toward the back-room door. As I walked past her, I felt a sudden squeeze on my back-end. "Quite firm... Misha will be the judge of future developments. Misha will make sure that Ela is properly clothed, regardless of growth spurts," she declared confidently. It was odd, being examined like that by what was essentially an alien, but with Misha, it didn¡¯t feel too uncomfortable¡ªas long as it remained brief and full of professional interest, which it mostly seemed to be. It was probably all part of her quirky, thorough approach to tailoring and equipment creation, after all. Once inside the backroom of Misha¡¯s Emporium, I noticed several changes since my last visit. Certain items had been rearranged, and some of the large metal crates that had stored some of the more advanced tech were now missing. ¡®Good to see Misha¡¯s making some real sales... especially since I can''t exactly contribute much financially myself,¡¯ I mused internally, a rueful smile crossing my face. My limited income hardly made a dent in supporting a large-scale local business like hers on a scale I wished I could. Just as I was taking in the alterations to the shop''s layout, Misha¡¯s voice pulled my attention. "Misha heard that Ela needs throwing knives, yes? What, specifically, is Ela looking for?" she asked, her voice mingling with the sound of clattering metal from behind a nearby cabinet that she had disappeared behind. Navigating the nuances of equipment shopping could be a bit like decoding a cryptic puzzle, especially when you get into the specifics like I was now with "Throwing Knives." At a glance, throwing knives might seem like a straightforward category to the uninitiated, but there was a surprising depth to it that comes with a bit of training. Through levelling up my [Throwing] Skill to a respectable degree, I''d come to learn that not all throwing knives are created equal. Most people pictured the Hollywood-style spinning throw when they think of throwing knives¡ªthe kind with a lot of flair but not necessarily designed for practicality. It¡¯s flashy, sure, and looks incredible in movies and circus acts, but when it comes to actual utility, it¡¯s not exactly top-notch. Then there was the lesser-known, but similarly intriguing, "no-spin" throwing technique, which I had only discovered after getting my [Throwing] Skill past Level 3. True to its name, the no-spin throw sends the knife flying straight without rotation, making it far more suitable for combat situations where getting the knife to actually inflict some proper damage is key. The knives needed for each style differed significantly; a knife designed for spinning will have different balance and weight characteristics than one intended for a no-spin throw. Given that my throwing would mostly be in combat scenarios, possibly as a last-ditch effort, I was in the market for the no-spin variety. These knives were less about show and more about practical, efficient impact¡ªexactly what I needed. Spinning a knife when throwing could extend both the range and stability of its flight, which were significant advantages in some scenarios. The rotation helped maintain momentum, overcoming environmental factors like wind or gravity, ensuring the knife reached a farther target with considerable accuracy. However, these benefits came with some notable drawbacks, particularly in combat situations. The primary issue with the spinning technique was that much of the knife¡¯s flight time was spent with the blade improperly aligned for striking¡ªan issue not unlike throwing a bottle of water straight up in the air and trying to catch it at the same spot you threw it with. Only a small portion of each rotation actually positioned the knife''s tip to impact effectively, making the timing of the throw critical. The knife had to connect at just the right moment during its spin to cause damage, requiring precise distance estimation and leaving little room for adjustment once the knife was in the air. Conversely, the no-spin technique offered a more straightforward approach, akin to hurling a sharply pointed stone. Although its range might be shorter, the knife itself travels faster initially since it¡¯s not encumbered by the need to spin and build momentum off of that. This direct flight path also kept the tip aimed at the target at all times, increasing the likelihood of striking effectively upon impact. Moreover, the no-spin throw allowed for rapid, consecutive throws with both hands, thanks to its simpler mechanics. This capability was downright crucial in combat, where quick follow-ups could compensate for initial misses or an opponent¡¯s evasive movements. My [Ambidexterity] Perk would further ensure that I could throw effectively with either hand, maintaining both accuracy and power, turning this style into a hopefully formidable technique in my arsenal. As I mulled over my initial loadout, I realised I needed to make some strategic decisions regarding the types of knives and their intended uses to ensure I equipped myself properly from the start. ''I''ll probably need at least four no-spin knives, maybe six if the price is right. And a couple of spinning knives wouldn''t hurt for specific situations,'' I contemplated, piecing together what to ask Misha for. The no-spin knives, slightly heavier towards the front for better control mid-flight and punch-through power, would be my go-to for any combat at a distance. They were perfect for quick, accurate throws without the complication of rotation, ideal for the kind of unpredictable situations I seemed to find myself in. On the other hand, the spinning knives, with their balanced weight for a steady circular flight, would be useful for more calculated, stationary targets from afar; think guards or sentries. Given my recent scrape during that last Data-Collection task, I had come to realise that there was no such thing as over-prepared when it came to being an Operator. I definitely couldn''t count on future Fixers to shield me from danger every time, just like I couldn¡¯t rely on Mr. Stirling to make sure all of my Data-Collection tasks from him were safe either. It was essential to be self-sufficient, to have the capability to defend myself effectively if, or more likely when, things went south again. As I began to detail my request to Misha, her wide, ruby-red eyes lit up with eagerness. "Ela is in need of throwing knives, specifically designed for no-spin throws. Ela is looking for something around 25cm long, weighing about 300 grams, with the bulk of the weight oriented towards the front rather than a fully balanced one. Durasteel would be ideal, for durability over sharpness¡ªEla needs them to last," I explained clearly, watching Misha nod vigorously¡ªpotentially even a bit too vigorously¡ªas she absorbed the specifications. "And a couple of knives suitable for spin throws, too, please. Same length and weight, but balanced for spinning." I had barely finished, when I swear I could hear a delighted "squee" from Misha¡¯s direction. With a bounce, she abruptly vanished behind a row of shelves and cabinets, disappearing into the depths of her shop to fetch the knives I had requested. The sight of her enthusiasm was comforting in a way; it reminded me that not all interactions in this world were high-stakes or dangerous¡ªsome were just about equipping oneself for whatever lay ahead with a slightly oddball demi-human¡­ Chapter 64 - Equipment Appraisal It didn''t take long for Misha''s energetic mutterings in Gryplik to fill the air, her voice an intense mix of concentration and enthusiasm as she rummaged through her extensive collection of equipment. ¡°{Hmm... No, no. Too long for Ela... This one? Maybe. No, no. The weight seems off. Definitely needs fixing; better put that in the ¡®needs-work¡¯ pile¡­}¡± Whenever Misha found something for the ¡°needs-work¡± pile, I knew that I had to watch out, as that pile was apparently synonymous with the whole entire store, as far as I could tell. It seemed to be basically equivalent to ¡°anything-but-right-here-in-this-very-moment¡±. Just as expected, I saw a throwing knife abruptly fly out from behind a row of cabinets, drawing a high-arc before accurately landing in a nondescript pile of other equipment pieces with a resounding thud. It was quite relaxing to listen to the Gryplik¡¯s mutterings, as the strange, alien language had a certain cadence to it that was almost therapeutic once you had gotten used to it. As a result, I simply stood around and waited for Misha to finish her search, enjoying the brief moment of respite in my otherwise hectic day for once. Over the next several minutes, her exclamations varied from, ¡°{Oh, yes! This one''s perfect for Ela! Ela will surely love this one, Misha guarantees it!}¡± to more items joining the burgeoning ¡°needs-work¡± pile, resulting in an increasing number of tools and blades casually tossed across the room. Surprisingly, though, Misha seemed acutely aware of my location; none of the thrown objects came anywhere near me, although I still didn¡¯t stop looking out for them¡ªjust in case. It was reassuring, in a way, to know that her chaotic method had a kind of precision¡ªlikely honed from ensuring that her less Gryplik-savvy customers didn¡¯t end up inadvertently caught in a surprise juggling act of sharp objects. Finally, after around ten-or-so minutes, Misha¡¯s face emerged from behind a precarious tower of equipment, her wide, green-toothy grin visible as she enthusiastically waved her elongated arms at me. "Misha has done it! Misha has found the perfect selection for Ela, Misha guarantees it!" Her agility was impressive as she nimbly scaled the heap of gadgets without causing a single item to tumble. ''I guess that explains how she manages to keep the store like this... She''s surprisingly agile and careful,'' I mused, appreciating the newfound answers to the quirky setup of her shop. Thinking about it, I was 100% certain I could not even get close to that level of agility, no matter how hard I tried in my current state. If I had tried, the pile of equipment would definitely have ended up in a bit of a landslide, with me somewhere in the middle of it. Misha bounded over with a stack of cases balanced precariously in her arms, which she dropped in front of me with a thud. Her expression was one of pure joy and pride, reminiscent of a puppy presenting its owner with a fetched stick. Trying to maintain composure and not burst out laughing at the adorable comparison my mind had drawn, I felt my Ego Attribute nudge me back to seriousness. Naturally the absurdity of needing such a boost from my Attributes for such a light-hearted moment was not lost on me, but I couldn¡¯t help it. Misha was just too freaking cute! She gracefully picked up the first case and presented it to me, while giving information about the item inside¡ªsomewhat of an impressive feat, considering that I couldn¡¯t tell the cases apart from one another at all. They were all sleek, black-grey rectangles, with no discernable marks or lettering on them at all. They simply looked like standard-issue mil-tech transport cases, like the ones I knew from the game that were often used by the developers to dish out random loot¡ªone size fits all, kind of deal. Misha enthusiastically explained as I opened the sleek case, ¡°This knife is weighted for no-spin, as requested. It is made by JarX, weighs in at 311 grams and is 25 cm long. Misha made sure to select only the finest for Ela! The weight distribution on JarX knives is superb for various throwing styles¡ªbe it for spin, no-spin, or even just for stabby stabbing!¡± Inside the case, I found four identical knives. Each was 25 cm long from hilt to tip, featuring a dark-grey blade accented by an ocean-blue streak along the spine¡ªJarX''s aesthetic touch was undeniable. Picking one up, I instantly noted the weight distribution Misha had mentioned. The knife had a substantial heft in my hand, but the total weight felt almost too light to be truly effective for stabbing. However, for no-spin throwing, which was my intention, it felt downright perfect. Despite never having thrown a knife before, my [Throwing] Skill, enhanced by the System¡¯s various downloads, confirmed its suitability. The weight was concentrated towards the centre and tip, ensuring a solid impact follow-through on any successful throw. However, this configuration was bound to pose a challenge for longer distances. The tip-heavy design would likely lead to imbalance in mid-air over extended ranges, causing the knife to veer off-axis and potentially fail to injure a target. Given this limitation, the JarX knives would be most effective within 15-20 metres at my current level¡ªa strictly close-range tool in my arsenal. The last thing I noted was that it was a single-edge design, almost like a kitchen-knife of sorts; which allowed for a substantially more beefy spine along the entire knife¡¯s back for added heft and durability. Next, Misha eagerly presented the second case. "These knives are from Blades¡¯N¡¯Knives¡ªa newer manufacturer, but Misha can vouch for their quality. Customers have been really pleased! They''re a bit smaller, at 24 cm and lighter, around 280 grams. Despite their weight, the double-edged design ensures surprisingly good penetration, Misha assures!¡± Opening the case, I found another four identical knives. These were almost silver in colour, with a distinctive yellow-gold streak in the centre, and the letters "B¡¯N¡¯K" randomly engraved along the blade. The random engravings gave the knives a unique, almost handcrafted appearance, contrasting starkly with the usual factory precision of most equipment in Neon Dragons like the JarX knives I had just looked at. Misha was also right about the design differences. Unlike the single-edged JarX knives, these were double-edged, resembling traditional kunai more than the utilitarian, almost bladed rail-spike like style of the JarX. Lifting one from the case, the difference in weight was instantly noticeable as well. Though it was primarily tip-heavy like the JarX, the B¡¯N¡¯K knife had a more balanced distribution, with quite the noticeable heft in the centre. This balance would reduce the follow-through impact but increase stability when thrown over longer distances. According to my [Throwing] Skill, these knives were suitable for use up to about 30 metres or so, significantly extending my effective range compared to the JarX models. ¡®I¡¯m starting to see where this is going¡­ I¡¯ll have to make a choice on range vs power, won¡¯t I?¡¯ I thought to myself with a smirk. This almost felt like equipment selection in a video game, except it was real life instead. I slid the knife back into its case, already anticipating Misha''s next offering, which came swiftly; her enthusiasm to display her vast collection was palpable. "These are from Rockefeller Inc., highly esteemed in Operator circles. They''re pricier due to licensing, but Rockefeller excels in weapon craftsmanship. Each knife is precisely 25 cm and weighs 303 grams. They feature a unique blade profile that enhances penetration¡ªa blend of the previous styles. Misha felt it would be best to present extremes first and then a compromise, to give Ela good options across the board!" she explained with a strategic flair. Grinning and nodding in appreciation, I opened the case to reveal what could only be described as the archetype of throwing knives. Clad in sleek matte-black with the Rockefeller Inc. logo elegantly engraved on each handle, they seemed to beckon for a trial throw. Handling one, I instantly recognized the ''compromise'' Misha had referred to. The weight distribution straddled that of the earlier two models, and the blade design was indeed a hybrid: Predominantly single-edged like the JarX, with the tip and a small portion extending backward double-edged, enhancing its penetrative capability on softer to medium-hard targets. What puzzled me, however, was my [Throwing] Skill¡¯s assertion that these Rockefeller knives were effective up to 40 metres¡ªsurpassing even the B¡¯N¡¯K which I had assumed would be superior for longer distances. ¡®How¡­? The B¡¯N¡¯K should be better for range, yet the Rockefeller is supposedly more effective? Is it because of the blade profile? Or maybe something else¡­?¡¯ Examining the knife closely, I tried to deduce the reason behind this unexpected advantage. Without a background in manufacturing, engineering or even something like blacksmithing, however, my efforts felt somewhat in vain. The nuances of its design eluded me, leaving me to trust the unexpected yet promising capabilities provided by my System''s insights. In the same moment, however, the System itself seemed to come to life, almost as if summoned by my resigned trust in it.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Appraise] Skill. [System]: [Appraise] has reached Level 1. [System]: [Appraisal] Ability unlocked.
Instantly, a surge of new knowledge coursed through me, and I was particularly thrilled to see the [Appraisal] Ability now at my disposal. The knowledge upgrade refined my ability to discern quality in materials and craftsmanship, sprinkled with insightful nuances that hadn''t occurred to me before, though nothing that dramatically altered my life''s course at the moment. With the knife still in hand, now I knew without a doubt it was of superior quality¡ªa fact I had suspected but still appreciated confirmation on, I guess. Eager to test out my new [Appraisal] Ability, I focused intently on the knife, mentally flicking a switch similar to the one I used for [Blademaster¡¯s Throw], but this time for the newly added option. ¡®Appraisal.¡¯ Immediately, my cerebral interface lit up with a System Window, overflowing with detailed information about the knife.
[== RI-05 Throwing Knife - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 30-45{c}] [Length: 25.00cm] [Weight: 302.98g] [Manufacturer: Rockefeller Inc.] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel, Erium (Coat)] [== RI-05 Throwing Knife - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 399/300] [Pierce: 32.67] [Slash: 13.43] [Blunt: 3.11] [Effective Range: 0-50m] This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. [== RI-05 Throwing Knife - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Gryplik Maintenance - Increases Durability characteristic by 33%. This can cause Durability to exceed the maximum.] [Passive: Erium Coating - Increases Range characteristic by 20%.]
My eyes went wide at the sheer depth of the information displayed before me. The System not only listed details I was previously unaware of, like the knives being composed of both Plasteel and Durasteel, but it also revealed they were coated in Erium¡ªa rare material from Neon Dragons known for imparting a wide variety of unique properties to items based on their type. Even more astounding was the listing of passive benefits that the knife brought with it. ¡®Holy shit¡­ This is a game changer! And there¡¯s the [Gryplik Maintenance] I was hoping for! This confirms that some game mechanics actually translate to real life, to some extent. This is fucking amazing!¡¯ I marvelled internally, thrilled by the implications. Seeing the Gryplik maintenance perk represented in real life was a significant clue that I had not expected to stumble across today. It suggested that more of my in-game knowledge about item enhancements, possibly even including other racial bonuses from different demi-human craftsmen and even rarity-based enhancements, might prove applicable. The fact that rarity was also noted only increased the likelihood of these features being relevant in some way. I clearly failed to hold back my excitement over this newfound revelation, as Misha sagely nodded and said, ¡°Yes, yes. Misha knew Ela would enjoy this one a great deal. It¡¯s a really popular knife. Very good!¡± Holding back my amusement at Misha¡¯s words as best I could, I handed back the knife momentarily and asked, ¡°Are there any more that Ela should look at?¡± With Misha shaking her head, I continued, ¡°Ela is happy with the current selection and would like to check them over again before making a decision.¡± Misha quickly provided the relevant cases and I went over the other two knives as well. ¡®Appraisal.¡¯
[== JarX-TK Mk.3 - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 15-25{c}] [Length: 25.08cm] [Weight: 311.08g] [Manufacturer: JarX] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel] [== JarX-TK Mk.3 - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 333/250] [Pierce: 36.83] [Slash: 16.13] [Blunt: 9.52] [Effective Range: 0-20m] [== JarX-TK Mk.3 - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Gryplik Maintenance - Increases Durability characteristic by 33%. This can cause Durability to exceed the maximum.]
¡®Appraisal.¡¯
[== B¡¯N¡¯K Gen 1 Throwing Knife - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 20-30{c}] [Length: 23.98cm] [Weight: 280.02g] [Manufacturer: Blades¡¯N¡¯Knives] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel] [== B¡¯N¡¯K Gen 1 Throwing Knife - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 226/170] [Pierce: 27.61] [Slash: 11.31] [Blunt: 2.42] [Effective Range: 0-35m] [== B¡¯N¡¯K Gen 1 Throwing Knife - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Gryplik Maintenance - Increases Durability characteristic by 33%. This can cause Durability to exceed the maximum.]
With the full, detailed rundown on each type of knife now at my disposal, I realised just how much time I had previously wasted trying to figure things out on my own. ''The RI-05s are clearly the best option here,'' I thought, though a twinge of anxiety flickered through my mind. ''Their price is the only real hiccup¡ªunderstandable, given their quality. No wonder they''re a staple among Operators who use throwing knives.'' The knives were priced from 30 to 45 Credits each, which definitely ruled out purchasing the six I initially wanted. Moreover, splurging on these would mean no budget left for the spinning knives at all, further limiting my equipment options. ''But then, with the RI-05s boasting up to 50m in effective range, maybe I don''t need the spinning knives as badly as I thought. The range is decent, and it should only improve as I level up my Body, Reflex, and [Throwing] further...'' Realising there was no point in overthinking it without the actual prices, I turned to Misha. The System''s rough estimates were helpful, but ultimately, it was Misha''s pricing that mattered. "Ela is very interested in the Rockefeller Inc. knives. Unfortunately, Ela isn''t flush with Credits right now, but would like as many as six, if the price is right. What does Misha want for them?" Misha¡¯s demeanour shifted from her usual bubbly enthusiasm to a more business-like seriousness immediately, locking in intently as she thought about the prices. Much like the last time I had bought items from her, Misha started her adorable mumbling in Gryplik¡ªa habit I found endearing and extremely useful, considering that I could actually understand her. ¡°{What should Misha ask for them...? Throwing knives aren¡¯t popular, so they¡¯re a hard sell... But Rockefeller Inc. knives are top quality. They were expensive to procure, so Misha can¡¯t give them away cheaply,}¡± she mused, inspecting the knives with a critical eye. ¡°{Misha has kept them well-maintained, too. That¡¯s worth something. They¡¯re still sparkling from the last polish!}¡± As she contemplated, she seemed to remember something important. ¡°{But the customer is Ela¡­ Ela promised to come back and Ela did come back. That makes Ela a regular, if Misha has understood commerce classes well. What did the teacher say again¡­? Ah right! ¡®Regulars are the lifeblood of any store.¡¯ That means Ela is the lifeblood of Misha¡¯s Emporium. Very important in human culture, yes.}¡± Her gaze narrowed as she edged closer, trying to read my reaction so intensely that I almost toppled backward trying to maintain a comfortable distance. ¡°{Ela looks more stressed than last time... Must need the knives urgently, or else Ela would wait to save more Credits, no? Ela trusts Misha to offer a good price to ease Ela''s stress! That must be it!}¡± Suddenly stepping back and stroking her chin thoughtfully, Misha finally spoke up with her usual animated flourish. ¡°Misha will ask for 27 Credits per knife! It''s a very special price; only for Ela! After all, Ela is a regular!¡± Her broad, toothy grin was infectious as she declared the price, evidently pleased with her reasoning. Quick mental math revealed that the price, while exceedingly generous, was just a tad beyond what I could comfortably afford, making me pause to consider my options. ¡®Maybe I should try to negotiate down to 26 Credits each? That would let me afford five knives, which is pretty good, all things considered. While not the six plus two additional spinning knives I initially hoped for, getting five high-quality ones might be better in the long run than six inferior ones that I''d need to replace sooner¡­¡¯ My internal deliberations were briefly interrupted by Misha''s rapidly shifting expressions. Her face moved from an initial smile to concern, then to confusion, fear and finally to anxiety. It seemed my silence in response to her pricing had caught her off guard. "Ah, Ela apologises! Ela just needed a moment to think about the price. It''s very generous indeed! Misha is truly kind," I quickly chimed in with a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, hoping to ease her worry. It appeared to work as Misha exhaled deeply, her face relaxing into a broad, green-toothed smile as she returned my gesture with her own elongated fingers. ¡°Ela, however, must be upfront: Ela cannot afford this price. Ela could stretch to 26 Credits, if Misha could be even more generous,¡± I ventured, which prompted Misha to stroke her chin thoughtfully. ¡°{Hmm¡­ 26 Credits is quite low; it¡¯s barely above cost. Especially because throwing knives aren¡¯t a one-and-done kind of deal¡­ Customers buy multiple, so lowering the price of one will lower overall income¡­ Misha has already cut the price substantially; Misha cannot keep lowering it just because Ela is kind and a regular. At some point, Misha must stand Misha¡¯s ground, or Misha might as well throw open the doors and declare a free-for-all,}¡± I overheard Misha mutter to herself. It was clear that my negotiation might have hit a snag, which was understandable. Trying to score a full set of high-quality throwing knives for a pittance was a stretch. I had inadvertently put her in a tight spot, and though part of me wanted to relent to help Misha out¡ªreciprocating her earlier kindness¡ªI also desperately needed those knives; and fast. So, I held my tongue, giving her space to think, hoping we might still find a middle ground. Suddenly, Misha¡¯s expression brightened as an idea struck her, ¡°{But what if Misha sells the whole set¡­? Misha can¡¯t easily sell two knives if Ela takes six. If Misha accepts 26 per knife and Ela agrees to eventually buy all eight, then it works out better financially and Misha isn¡¯t left with awkward stock...! Misha is a genius!}¡± Her poker face was a comical attempt, clearly more theoretical than practised, as her glee at her own cleverness leaked through again and again. Turning back to me with an offer, Misha proposed, ¡°Misha can do 26 Credits each for the knives, but only if Ela agrees to buy all eight eventually. Ela can buy as many as Ela can now, but must come back for the rest later at the same price. Misha thinks this is a fair trade.¡± I pretended to mull over her proposal, though her Gryplik mutterings had given me ample time to consider my options and I was already completely on-board with it. ¡°Ela agrees. It¡¯s a very fair offer! Ela will take five now, and return later for the remaining three. Ela has just 130 Credits, so five is all Ela can manage now,¡± I responded, bowing slightly in appreciation of her flexibility. While I was going to end up with two more knives than I initially intended, when all was said and done, throwing knives were one of those weapon types where having extras wouldn¡¯t really ever be a downside. They were light-weight and could potentially get lost, depending on where I used them, so having backups ready to go would actually come in handy in the long run, even if I had to take on some additional debt in the here and now. Plus, this arrangement ensured I¡¯d maintain a good relationship with Misha¡ªarguably even more important than the equipment itself, considering her generous streak and the fact that all her equipment came with a free 33% extra Durability. With a burst of energy, Misha vanished behind the enormous pile of equipment she had emerged from earlier, only to reappear seconds later with another weapons case in hand. She handed it over with her characteristic grin, ¡°RI-05 throwing knives, eight in total. Ela should take as many as Ela needs and can afford right now; Misha will stash the rest away so no pesky customers swipe them. Ela will come back and buy the rest once more Credits are at hand, yes?¡± I selected five of the knives, appreciating their weight and the precision with which they were crafted, and nodded firmly towards Misha. ¡°Yes, Ela will return, just like before. Ela will bring more Credits to purchase the remaining knives and other items. After all, Misha¡¯s Emporium is Ela¡¯s favourite shop.¡± My words seemed to deeply affect Misha. She momentarily froze, her large ruby-crystal eyes shimmering with emotion before she quickly turned away and tucked the case with the remaining three knives under a cluttered table, taking a moment to compose herself. ¡°{Hold it together, Misha! Ela is kind and a regular customer. Of course, Ela would favour Misha¡¯s Emporium over others! Misha is doing well. Misha is a successful merchant, no matter what other Grypliks might say! Grypliks can be good merchants too, Misha is living proof!}¡± she murmured, bolstering herself with quiet affirmations that just about melted my heart. ¡®How can she be so incredibly endearing?!¡¯ I marvelled internally, utterly charmed by her adorable mannerisms once more. Each encounter with Misha seemed to reveal more of her endearing nature, and the unique features of her appearance that might seem monstrous to some only appeared as quirky and charming traits to me now. Without my Ego Attribute working overtime all day today, I was bound to have stepped into a serious number of issues so far. Sending a quick thankful prayer to the System Gods for granting me this social cheat-code, I transferred over the entirety of my Credits to Misha.
[You have transferred {c}130 to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± with the note: ¡°Ela is deeply grateful for Misha¡¯s generosity and vows to return for future purchases and the three additional knives not bought today.¡±]
I noticed Misha''s eyes briefly glow blue as she processed the transaction, then she returned a thumbs up¡ªa gesture she seemed to have adopted from our earlier interaction today. I couldn¡¯t help but beam back at her, not even trying to mask my gratitude as I thanked her profusely while she walked me to the exit. It seemed that every trip to Misha¡¯s Emporium ended with my wallet empty, but my heart full. ¡®Next time, I¡¯ll come with enough Credits to shop without haggling Misha down. She¡¯s worth every penny, and as a regular¡ªas she rightly put it¡ªI¡¯m the lifeblood of the store! If I don¡¯t look out for Misha, who will?!¡¯ I pledged internally, choosing to overlook the fact that my modest purchases probably didn¡¯t make much of an impact on the grand scale of her business, given the store¡¯s vast inventory and the sheer volume of high-quality merchandise. But, in the end, it was the thought that counts; or so I told myself. And I cherished the thought of having a Gryplik shopkeeper who, with such adorable earnestness, was navigating the complexities of human commerce to make her mark in a world that wasn''t always welcoming to her kind¡­ Chapter 65 - Netrunning Speed Grind Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Those were the only sounds echoing around my apartment as my newly acquired throwing knives found their marks in the makeshift targets I''d set up. On my way out of Misha¡¯s Emporium, I had snagged some odds and ends from Misha to use as targets¡ªitems she was apparently more than happy to part with. Among the assortment were half a dozen torn pieces of clothing and a couple of broken cases. I had draped the clothing over the cases, not just for a bit of impromptu target practice, but also to ensure no stray shards of plastic would come flying my way. Safety was, after all, a priority. Despite my [Throwing] Skill being one of my most developed ones, I had never actually thrown real knives before; something I¡¯d have to get used to if I intended to make this a part of my Operator setup. This reality check nudged me to start with some very basic practice. The System might have blessed me with downloaded muscle memory, but there was a very tangible difference between leaning entirely on those downloads and executing the skills firsthand¡ªas I vividly learned during my dojo sessions with Kenzie. I practised throwing the knives exactly as they had come out of the box, opting not to use my [Sharpen] Perk and potentially shorten their lifespan unless absolutely necessary. While sharpening them would undoubtedly make them deadlier, it offered no benefits to their durability. In fact, the heightened sharpness would very likely increase their chance of chipping or breaking. After about thirty minutes of intense practice, I felt like I had gotten the hang of no-spin throwing. I had experimented with right-handed, left-handed, and even dual-wielding throws, covering all potential attack modes I might need as well. ¡®That¡¯s enough for today. There¡¯s too much netrunning stuff I need to get into, and I can¡¯t afford to spend more time on this,¡¯ I told myself as I stashed the makeshift targets in my wardrobe and placed the knives by my bed. ¡®I need to find a proper holster or something for these knives as well¡­¡¯ For now, my plan was to tuck them into one of the many belts of my Operator outfit, but that was clearly a temporary fix, not a long-term solution. Ideally, I¡¯d craft some reinforced pockets with [Tailoring] or a similar Skill, but time and materials were beyond short in supply. With the Operator meeting looming, I couldn¡¯t put off my other preparations for even one extra hour. So, I flopped onto my bed and plugged in the SPG-01 shard as I had so many times before. Typically, I limited my netrunning training to just a few hours at a time¡ªthe setup reminded me too much of traditional schooling, which brought back some less-than-pleasant memories from my previous life; unfortunately one of the things I still remembered with vivid clarity. Today, though, was going to be different. I intended to get at least 10-12 hours of solid training with Kill Joy under my belt. I had to get myself ready for my inaugural delve into the Cyberspace of Neo Avalis, to earn some very real experience in what it meant to be a netrunner. After all, if I wanted to sell myself as one, I¡¯d have to be able to pretend that I knew what I was doing in Cyberspace; at the very least. So I threw myself into the lessons with rabid abandon, trying to get through them quickly to finally unlock the first parts of my quick-hack library and start doing some netrunner business¡­
Four hours into my netrunning grind, I took a much-needed break upon receiving Gabriel''s usual heads-up text that he was heading home. Eager for some downtime and dinner with my brother, I semi-reluctantly unhooked myself from the shard. As I stretched, every joint in my body popped¡ªa harsh reminder of the toll such intense focus could take. ''Thank God for my daily workouts, or this lifestyle would utterly wreck me in no time at all,'' I mused. ¡®How the fuck did I do this all day, every day in my last life? No wonder I was a complete fucking mess like that¡­¡¯ I quickly scrolled through the flood of System Notifications I''d ignored while plugged in, confirming my progress had been unusually smooth today:
[System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 600xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 900xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 700xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: [Quick-Hacks] has reached Level 2. [System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Edge Attribute.
Kill Joy had introduced me to a sort of training wheels version of Cyberspace. It was a far cry from the real digital abyss I''d eventually navigate, designed more as a soft introduction to the concept of existing as a digital entity rather than a flesh-and-blood human. It was exceedingly odd, to say the least, but the digital world functioned very much like the physical one to a surprising degree. All my physical Attributes seemed to be mirrored in the Cyberspace almost 1:1, and even my Perks functioned just as they would in the real world¡ªone of the first things I had tried and something that had sent a massive surge of relief through me. Having access to things such as [Wall-Runner] and [Lightfoot] would be undoubtedly invaluable, when it came to actually navigating the massive digital world that I was bound to explore at some stage later this week. They weren¡¯t the only perks that truly shone in today''s session either. I finally had gotten the chance to really put [Programming Maestro] to the test, and honestly, it almost moved me to tears with its effectiveness. Kill Joy had this knack for throwing programming challenges at me like pop quizzes. The format felt less like school exams and more like a puzzle where any solution that worked was good enough. "It¡¯s about understanding how to solve the problem, not making it pretty," he''d say, and I couldn¡¯t agree more. After all, when you''re hacking into a data vault, it doesn''t matter if the code is a bit rough around the edges as long as it gets the door open. Today''s challenges built on previous lessons, focusing mainly on quick-hacks and the underlying ideas necessary to begin crafting my own subroutines. While I wasn''t yet at the point of creating my very first one from scratch¡ªa milestone that would also allow me to keep and use it for my own purposes¡ªI felt my thought processes aligning more and more with what Kill Joy had likely envisioned when designing the curriculum initially. The feeling of making steady progress like this, especially as it was really quick progress thanks to [Programming Maestro] making sure that I always came up with a solution to whatever problem I ran into¡ªeven if it wasn¡¯t the most optimal or pretty one; was extremely addicting. If it hadn''t been for Gabriel''s message, I doubt I would have even noticed how quickly four hours had passed or how much I needed to step away for a bit. It was one of the most gratifying grind sessions I''d had in this world recently, or maybe ever. I was still more partial to my early [Juggling] experiences, though that was likely more due to nostalgia than an actual enjoyment of the monotonous action of tossing sock balls over and over. Nonetheless, I was about 20-30 hours away from finishing this current module of the shard. After that, I''d dive into the last module, which was all about [Manifestation]¡ªsomething entirely new to me. In the game, [Manifestation] wasn''t a Skill, or at least there wasn¡¯t one by that specific name, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it was a Skill I''d need to master thoroughly. At the start of each lesson now, Kill Joy had me "manifest" my own chair to sit in. The mere fact that I could create something in a virtual space that wasn¡¯t initially mine, solely based on my understanding of the mechanics of the digital world and supported by my netrunning skills, hinted at its potentially nearly limitless power once fully mastered. If I could manifest a chair, what was to stop me from conjuring up anything else I could imagine? There had to be some limitations, of course, but uncovering what those actually were was key. The ability to materialise things like doors, ladders, or even larger constructs like vehicles within Cyberspace could be an incredibly powerful tool. I was in the middle of prepping some of Mr. Shori''s leftover ramen boxes for dinner, noting briefly that I¡¯d have to stock back up on those the following day, as I hadn¡¯t gotten around to it today due to the whole Clawed Beasts incident, when Gabriel came home. The sound of the door swooshing open had become all too familiar, yet this time, as Gabriel limped in, my heart skipped a beat. It was hard not to flashback to that horrific day he¡¯d stumbled in, bleeding and on death¡¯s door, begging for my assistance. But then I remembered¡ªtoday was just his first session with Miss K at the dojo. Pushing aside the jolt of concern, I tried to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to let on just how amused I was to see my big brother looking so roughed up from the training session. ¡°Welcome home, Gabe! How did the sesh'' go?¡± I greeted him, doing my best to sound casual. As he shuffled closer, I was genuinely surprised by how unscathed he appeared, especially compared to the mess I had found myself in. Sure, he had a swollen eye, a bloodied nose, his cheeks looked like those of a squirrel trying to mass food for the winter and he was limping very slowly while consistently grunting and groaning in pain, but compared to the fact that I had literally ended up in the hospital and required surgery to replace a fucking eye, he had come out a lot better than me; no question! Gabriel practically collapsed into the chair opposite mine at the kitchen table, letting out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes to simply exist for a moment. I gave him space, knowing too well how drained I felt after my bouts with Kenzie¡ªignoring even the injuries. "It was... intense," he finally said, his eyes still closed. "I''m honestly glad you gave me a heads-up. Managed to save some energy for the later rounds and scrape back some points... I think." Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. As he opened his eyes and leaned forward to wolf down his ramen, it was my cue to start eating too. "Thanks for the food, sis. Really needed that," he mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, shovelling them in so fast that my earlier squirrel analogy seemed even more fitting. I was barely a quarter through my meal when Gabe finished, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "Huff... That really hit the spot!" He grinned at me. "Honestly? You landing a job at Shori''s Noodles might be the best thing that''s happened to us. Free, amazing ramen? That stuff''s gold." I couldn''t help but laugh at his over-the-top praise, though I was secretly pleased he appreciated it. "So, tell me about the dojo, Gabe," I prodded, eager to hear more about his session with Miss K. I was also slightly anxious, hoping she hadn''t mentioned anything about my "condition." After all, she was the only person I''d somewhat opened up to about the System''s odd effects on my life, even if she didn''t know even a fraction of the whole story. Gabriel, finally looking relaxed and somewhat satisfied, began detailing his experience at the Arkion Dojo just like I had done for him the previous day. Unlike me, he had encountered only cybernetically enhanced students under Miss K''s tutelage, which made sense in hindsight given the prevalence of cybernetic enhancements in our world; it was by far and away the most common physical enhancement. For Gabriel, however, that simply meant that everyone was, at baseline, better than him in whatever cybernetic enhancements they had. Much like me, Gabriel was about as pure a human as you could be in a world like this¡ªa neural link, neural interface and cybernetic eyes were all that we had. His initial rounds were subsequently brutal. "I got the absolute shit kicked out of me," he confessed, half-joking that he thought he was going to die, and even considered quitting altogether. Hearing this, I couldn¡¯t help but worry for him, but he quickly reassured me that Miss K¡¯s encouragement and tips helped him overcome these initial challenges. That let me relax a bit, as I really didn¡¯t want to see my brother go against the Matriarch''s wishes like this; Valeria would undoubtedly be ¡°upset¡±, to put it mildly, if he decided to flunk on the dojo sessions. "I couldn''t let myself get discouraged that easily; especially after my little sister had made it through a whole sesh," he said proudly, recounting how the later rounds went much better. He even won a round towards the end, which seemed to have boosted his spirits significantly. "You should''ve seen Kouri''s face when Sensei told him to ease up," he chuckled. "It felt good to let some of that energy out. Mum was right to push me into this. It¡¯s making me tougher, not just an easy target out there. Can¡¯t always count on my little sis to bail me out whenever a group of scavs feels like they are bored, huh?" He said it with a laugh, but I struggled to find it funny. The memory of his previous near-death experience was still too vivid, and my inner rage toward the attackers hadn''t cooled. Despite this, I forced a smile, not wanting to dampen his spirits as he seemed to be handling the aftermath far better than I might have in his place. ¡°Did Miss K mention me at all, by chance?¡± I probed casually, hoping to ensure there were no uncomfortable undercurrents brewing between us because of anything she might have inadvertently revealed that she shouldn¡¯t have. Confiding in her had spiked my anxiety to levels I wasn¡¯t comfortable with, though I recognized it had probably been necessary at the time. Still, the nagging fear that she might slip up and say something that could lead a corporation right to my doorstep took up a constant slice of my mental bandwidth. Gabriel pondered briefly before responding. ¡°Yeah, she did mention you a bit. She figured out we were siblings from our files and commented that it seemed like I was the more cautious one.¡± He flashed a smug smile. ¡°Guess we can¡¯t argue with that, huh?¡± He was spot on; we really couldn¡¯t argue with that assessment, especially since Gabriel was blissfully unaware of the full extent of the dangers I navigated regularly. Relieved that Miss K hadn¡¯t shared anything too personal, I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of Gabriel''s dojo stories. Towards the end of our conversation, Gabriel brought up something that piqued my interest as well. ¡°We should try to get some of that medicine Sensei uses,¡± he suggested. ¡°Having some of that at home would really ease my mind about injuries. That stuff works wonders.¡± I could only nod in agreement. After enduring Kenzie¡¯s relentless onslaught and still managing to stay upright till the very end, I knew firsthand how effective that medicine could be. Having some on hand would not only be practical but reassuring¡ªnot to mention it being potentially life-saving for my future Operator business. It was definitely only thanks to the medical supplies Miss K provided us that I¡¯d made it through my dojo session somewhat intact¡ªsupplies I¡¯d meant to check on after getting discharged from the hospital, which had been forgotten amid the chaos of losing an eye. ¡°You think I could ask Valeria to get some for us? If I say it¡¯s for session after-care or something¡­?¡± I pondered aloud, seeking Gabriel¡¯s insight. He knew Valeria far better than I did, having been around her much longer. His eyes widened, genuine surprise crossing his face. ¡°Wait, what? You, asking Mum for something?¡± He shook his head, chuckling a bit. ¡°Right, you¡¯ve changed. Still tough to get used to, sorry, Sera¡­ Uh, about your question, I honestly don¡¯t know. You¡¯ve never really asked Mum for anything... The first time was at the last family dinner, talking about the dojo, and that went pretty well. But I¡¯m not sure how she¡¯d react normally, I¡¯ll be real...¡± I sighed, once again struck by how little I actually knew about the original Sera''s dynamics within our family. The broad strokes were clear, but the nuanced details¡ªthe ones that shaped day-to-day interactions¡ªremained utterly elusive. While I could press Gabriel for a comprehensive breakdown, not only would it take a massive amount of time, but it also risked overlooking key elements that were crucial to understanding the full picture. Plus, it wasn¡¯t like he had all the answers about everything that had transpired between original Sera and Valeria. ¡°What if we ask together, then?¡± I offered, not wanting to dwell on the matter for too long. All I cared about for now was potentially getting my hands on better quality medicine than what I could currently produce with my [Medicine] Skills and a can of spray-bandages for my upcoming Tasks. ¡°Surely you wouldn¡¯t mind having some extras either, considering how busy you are at work as well. Your body¡¯s probably going to be in a lot of pain tomorrow, if your current state is anything to go by, Gabe,¡± I pushed further, really driving home the point that we should combine our efforts. He winced, well aware of the aches that were probably on their way, then nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah¡­ You¡¯re right. How about we bring it up at the next family dinner? Or should we just message her right now¡­?¡± ¡®Why the hell are you asking me, Gabe?! I have no idea how to deal with that woman?!¡¯ I internally groaned. ¡°Ehh¡­ We could probably just send her a message¡­ I think?¡± I answered, guessing that it wasn¡¯t really that big of a deal that it needed a face-to-face with the Matriarch, considering that it was really just a request for her to buy us some better quality medicine to recover from the Dojo she had pushed on us¡ªor Gabriel, at least. ¡°Better if you do it, though,¡± I quickly added. ¡°Considering my history with her ¡®n¡¯ all.¡± ¡°Yeah, probably best,¡± he chuckled, acknowledging the delicate balance with our mother. ¡°No need to stir the pot more than we must, right?¡± We went on to share a few more experiences of our Dojo visits over the next half an hour, before Gabriel announced that he¡¯d take a quick shower and retire for bed. It was already quite late, all things considered and he¡¯d have to go back to his double-shift work in the early morning hours of the next day already; regardless of how broken his body was at this stage. ¡®Ah, the joys of capitalism¡­ Work them to the bone for every last credit,¡¯ I mused darkly as I readied myself for bed as well¡ªnot to sleep, but to dive back into Skill grinding. Just as I had planned, I was going to spend the next eight-or-so hours with the digital avatar of Kill Joy guiding me further into the world of the faux-Cyberspace inside the shard; hopefully teaching me a lot of invaluable tips and tricks for my upcoming real-Cyberspace adventures¡­
By the time a floating alarm appeared in front of my digital avatar, signalling the arrival of morning, I had nearly forgotten that I wasn''t actually in the real world. Disconnecting from the faux-Cyberspace took a solid minute as I reoriented myself, having merged with the digital realm for over eight hours, which left my brain a bit scrambled. As I pulled my consciousness back into my real body and away from the SPG-01 shard, I had to close my eyes for a moment to steady myself¡ªthe room seemed to spin as I readjusted to physical reality. "Damn, it''s a good thing I''m getting this practice in now, rather than when I''m trying to impress an Operator," I muttered under my breath, relieved that I had chosen to start honing my netrunning skills sooner rather than later. This intensive session with Kill Joy in the faux-Cyberspace had proven invaluable, however, not just for experiencing first-hand what netrunner burnout felt like and in terms of progress I had made in the shard¡¯s guided sections overall. I was likely only around 5-10 hours away from finishing the module, instead of the 20-30 I had thought were left over earlier in the day¡ª[Programming Maestro] was really paying massive dividends already. The session had also been incredibly successful in amassing a wealth of experience points for my netrunning-related Skills¡ªwell, all except for [Manifestation], that is. Opening up the stored up System Notifications to bask in the pure bliss of numbers going brrr, I couldn¡¯t hide a massive smile¡ªnot that I even tried to, I had earned this one fair and square.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 1,000xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 1,400xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: [Netrunning] has reached Level 3. Gained one [Netrunning] Perk Point. [System]: 1,100xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: 700xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for Edge Attribute.
That¡¯s right; it was already time to choose another netrunning-related Perk; this time for [Netrunning] itself! The 12+ hour marathon of spending time with Kill Joy today had really paid off, no matter how I looked at it. It was going to be a sad day, fairly soon, when I had finished all the guided sections of what the shard had to offer; it would undoubtedly crash my experience rate down by orders of magnitude. Not only would I be losing out on the [Mentor Bonus] that Kill Joy¡¯s digital alter-ego provided, but his expertly crafted curriculum was also a large part of the reason my netrunning advancements over the last weeks had been so massive. Once I had to figure out my own ways to gain experience, I was bound to have to spend multiple dozen hours to even find a path that would be consistent enough for me to consider a viable grind; simply doing push-ups in Cyberspace was not exactly going to work, after all. Pulling up the Perk Selection screen for [Netrunning], I refreshed my memory on what exactly I had access to now.
[Echo Trap] The cyberspace hunter-class Perk! You gain the ability to deploy quick-hack segments or subroutines as static traps directly in cyberspace, bypassing the need for any external devices for these tasks. These traps utilise and generate only a fraction¡ªone tenth¡ªof their typical RAM and heat when active. You can dismantle these traps remotely with a mental command, irrespective of your location or line of sight. [Heat Dump] Aggressively warm! You gain the ability to offload a portion of your accumulated neural-heat onto selected targets currently influenced by your quick-hacks within cyberspace. The efficiency of heat transfer and the capacity to target multiple adversaries are determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill. [Cyberspace Thief] Did that bitch just steal my subroutine?! You gain the ability to attempt and snatch a random quick-hack subroutine or segment from any target currently affected by one of your quick-hacks in cyberspace. To successfully annex these digital assets, your device must have sufficient storage space available¡ªequal to or exceeding the quick-hack''s size. Additionally, your system must have available current-capacity of at least half the necessary RAM and heat capacity for immediate use of the stolen quick-hack. [Spectral Scanner] Give me just one ping¡­ You gain the ability to use your device¡¯s specs to scan cyberspace around you for hidden entities, objects or daemons. The range and level of detection is determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
As I scrutinised each available Perk carefully, I found myself as unsure as usual of the best path forward. ''Maybe I could get some advice from Kill Joy?'' I briefly considered, pondering the feasibility of seeking guidance from my digital mentor; he wasn¡¯t a real person that could snitch on me, after all. However, I swiftly dismissed the idea, wary of the potential risks involved. The training sessions within the shard might be monitored in some way, and I couldn''t risk exposing my unique System access¡ªespecially not for something as "relatively" minor as selecting a Level 3 Perk. If it had been a significant Level 10 Capstone Perk, perhaps the risk would be justified, but this was just the first-tier; definitely not worth the risk, however minor it might¡¯ve been. It seemed I was left to tackle this decision the old-fashioned way: Alone, weighing each option against my goals and the costs of foregoing the alternatives. With a hint of exasperation colouring my thoughts, I let out a heavy sigh. ¡®Haa¡­ Here I go again, trying to figure out what wrong decisions to make¡­¡¯ Chapter 66 - Sensei Knows Best After waving a flinching and groaning Gabriel off, I plunged into my usual workout routine, spicing it up a bit with some new challenges thanks to the experience mechanics I had been exploring recently. It felt great to be active and pushing my limits again, especially after the marathon netrunning sessions I had endured to boost my netrunning Skills the whole night. ''And there¡¯s more of that lined up for today...'' I thought, a tad ruefully. While I relished the learning and the rapid improvement in my netrunning abilities, not to mention numbers going brrr quite hard, I couldn¡¯t ignore the toll it had taken on me. ''Feels a bit like I¡¯m reverting to some old, unhealthy habits from my past life,'' I reflected as I smoothly rose from a push-up. But I quickly dismissed the thought, chuckling to myself, ''At least now, I¡¯m in better shape, physically.'' Maybe if I would¡¯ve done some body-weight exercises, I never would¡¯ve succumbed to that stroke or whatever it was that had ultimately done me in. ''Not sure if I¡¯d prefer still being in that old world, in my old body, though... Maybe this is for the better?'' In just a few weeks here, I¡¯d discovered joys I couldn¡¯t have imagined in my past life¡ªlike forming a business friendship with Misha, essentially an alien lifeform, or learning under the kind and wise Mr. Shori. These experiences were shaping up to be far more fulfilling than anything I¡¯d known before. There was definitely a part of me that missed my old friends, however. The same part that had recoiled at the thought of never seeing Jade again; our relationship, though strange, had been meaningful in its own right; being the first person roughly my age that I had connected with. Recognizing this pang of loneliness, I made a quiet promise to myself, "I really need to make some genuine friends in this world, or I''m just going to keep letting the wrong kind of people into my life like this. I can¡¯t just hope that I somehow end up successfully hard-balling a mafia boss, every time I¡¯m feeling lonely¡­" There was one person, around my age, who might just fit the bill for a potential friend as well, although I definitely recognized that I was jumping the gun a bit: Kenzie. I was actually looking forward to seeing the feisty fox girl again in just two days. Our last sparring session, as painful as it had ended up being, had also been thoroughly invigorating; in more ways than one. The give and take, adjusting to each other''s moves and anticipating future ones, had been exhilarating and very enjoyable. ¡®But next time, I¡¯m keeping both eyes intact... That¡¯s for sure.¡¯
Finishing up my usual early-morning workout routine with a quick shower before heading down towards Mr. Shori¡¯s; I quickly went over my goals for the day¡ªmy days had become more and more chaotic recently, so I was trying my best to claw back a sense of order by trying to plan things out a bit more ahead of time. ¡°Do my usual shift, then head back and dive into netrunner-land," I vocalised to keep myself on track. "I really need to finish the shard sooner rather than later, especially if I''m going to gain any meaningful real-life experience before next week..." The looming deadline to impress a seasoned Operator in just a few days was daunting and stirred a wave of anxiety every time I thought about it. To push those thoughts aside, I focused on reviewing the progress I had made this morning.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
¡°Fuck me¡­¡± slipped out under my breath. Without the rested experience bonus, my entire morning routine barely made a dent in the lofty goals I had set for myself. Sure, my stats were creeping up, but the actual experience points gained were underwhelming. Especially Body, which had recently hit level 5 and was now painfully slow to improve¡ªthis morning¡¯s entire workout had eked out a mere 200xp. ¡®At this rate, it¡¯ll take almost a full month of this level of exercise to reach Body 6,¡¯ I calculated quickly in my head. ¡®Skipping the Rest Function to squeeze in more netrunning time is definitely slowing down my [Stealth] and Body Attribute gains tremendously¡­ But sacrifices are necessary, I guess. Once I link up with a Fixer and start taking on more Tasks, I¡¯ll be raking in way more experience than the Rest Function¡¯s bonus xp could ever offer¡­ Assuming, of course, everything goes to plan.¡¯ Stepping out of the shower and heading down to Mr. Shori¡¯s in my usual work outfit¡ªthis time augmented with three additional throwing knives strapped to my hip on one of the many belts I had liberated from my Operator outfit¡ªI was relieved not to encounter any dubious, intimidating figures just before reaching the stall. ¡°Good morning, Ela!¡± came Mr. Shori¡¯s friendly, cheerful voice, a welcome contrast to the challenging thoughts swirling in my head. ¡°Mornin¡¯ Mr. Shori,¡± I replied, somewhat distracted as I slipped on the work-apron Mr. Shori had laid out for me. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that beside my own apron lay another¡ªJade¡¯s. ¡®Looks like Mr. Shori wouldn¡¯t mind her sticking around either¡­Not that he knows anything about the whole mess that has unfolded between us, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯s aware of something going on. Mr. Shori is clearly a lot more attentive than I originally gave him credit for, after all,¡¯ I mused, arranging the initial broth pots and scooping in the pre-prepared algae Mr. Shori had cut and set aside at some point earlier in the day already. It seemed like it was shaping up to be just another typical day at the stall, but just as I settled into the routine, life decided to toss a curveball my way. Mr. Shori, unexpectedly, joined me in the back of the stall. With a puzzled look, I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to explain his unusual presence here. Normally, he¡¯d be bustling around the front, managing customers for hours on end before we took our brief pre-lunch break together. When Mr. Shori remained silent, even after I stared at him questioningly for a few long seconds, I finally broke the silence. "Mr. Shori? Is everything alright?" I asked, trying to gauge his mood. He simply nodded and motioned for me to continue with my tasks, his gaze fixed on me a bit too intently. His scrutiny made me feel uneasy, like I was missing something obvious. ''Is he okay? This isn''t like him at all,'' I wondered, increasingly anxious. As I approached the cutting board and grasped one of the knives to begin slicing the algae, Mr. Shori finally spoke, his voice carrying a note of observation. ¡°Ela is good with knife for cooking; but Ela does not know how to use knife like blade,¡± he commented. I stopped dead in my tracks, keeping the knife hovering just a hair¡¯s breadth over the algae. ¡°I never really had anyone teach me to use a knife; I just picked it up and tried to do my best to mimic what I saw others do,¡± I explained carefully. I wasn¡¯t sure where Mr. Shori was going with this, and while I trusted him at this stage, I still didn¡¯t want to accidentally reveal more about the System¡¯s influence on me than necessary¡ªI had learned my lesson with Miss K and the perpetual stress that whole issue was causing. Mr. Shori''s expression grew serious as he met my gaze squarely. "I figure. I teach Ela, if Ela agree," he offered, his tone earnest. My eyes widened in response, a mixture of surprise and realisation hitting me. "You want to teach me?" I echoed, almost unable to believe what I was hearing. Yet yesterday¡¯s incident with the man in the alley, in which Mr. Shori had unexpectedly come to my aid, had thoroughly shaken up that view. The way Mr. Shori had wielded his knives, ready to confront whoever had prevented me from reaching the stall, was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Despite my proficiency, already at Level 3 in [Knives], the technique Mr. Shori had used left me brimming with questions. The forms he demonstrated were far removed from any System Knowledge I had acquired; none of the downloads so far had even hinted at something like this before. ¡°Teach Ela how to wield knife like blade, yes,¡± Mr. Shori re-iterated with a sage nod. ¡°I not want Ela without defence; man maybe return.¡± ¡°I¡­ I would be honoured, Mr. Shori! Please, do teach me!¡± I responded earnestly, my excitement genuine. This was an opportunity that I absolutely could not afford to miss. Not only was there the potential of a [Mentor Bonus] coming into play, assuming Mr. Shori was as knowledgeable as he seemed, but it might even finally get my dormant [Blades] Skill to start becoming relevant. Considering that I was maxed out on Skills and already had to discard one, I really needed to start making use of the ones that had simply been laying around, taking up slots, or discard them entirely sometime soon. With a kind, yet firm nod, Mr. Shori gently moved me aside and took his place at the cutting board. He paused briefly, simply instructing, "Observe," before he picked up the knife I had set down and began to slowly slice through the algae, just as I did every day. I intently stared at the way he cut the algae, the way he held the knife, the way his muscles moved and just about anything I could think of to observe, but, at the end of the day, I didn¡¯t see any difference to what I had been doing before. I even ended up switching sides multiple times to be closer or further away from the knife that did the cutting, as if the changed perspective could somehow help me figure things out; to no avail. Mr. Shori simply continued his methodical slicing without further comment, his focus unwavering. Minutes started to drag on, and my frustration mounted. ''What the fuck am I not seeing here?'' I wondered, as I went to pick up a nearby knife and mimic his moves; which felt slightly odd as he gripped the knife slightly differently than I would normally do courtesy of his larger hands, but I was still missing the large lightbulb moment that I felt like Mr. Shori was aiming for. Finally, after about five minutes of this futile imitation, I had to admit my confusion. "Mr. Shori... I don¡¯t get it," I confessed, my voice laced with frustration and a sense of defeat. "All I see is you cutting algae. I do this every day; I really don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re trying to show me..." As soon as I voiced my confusion, Mr. Shori ceased his methodical cutting, giving me a look that carried a profound depth of understanding. He stepped back from the cutting board and, without a word, extended his hand towards me, silently asking for the knife I held. I handed it to him without hesitation. The instant he grasped the second knife, something shifted noticeably. Positioning himself once again in front of the cutting board, he resumed his task¡ªthis time using both knives at the same time. His actions were as deliberate as before, but there was a tangible difference in his presence and technique that I hadn''t noticed earlier. It wasn''t in the grip or the speed; those remained unchanged. Yet, something essential had altered the moment he began using both knives. I strained to discern what had fundamentally shifted, but the subtlety of the change eluded me still. ¡®Is it the way he¡¯s holding the knives¡­? The way he¡¯s applying force to them slightly differently than normal through the way he¡¯s gripping them¡­?¡¯ I wondered, as I slowly began to go through every possible option one by one once again. There seemed to be a detail just beyond my grasp, something crucial I was missing, yet felt similarly on the tip of my tongue. Without a standard kitchen knife within easy reach and not wanting to break my focus from observing Mr. Shori''s precise movements, I instinctively drew my Operator knife. I hoped that by mimicking his actions again, I might stumble upon the hidden nuance I was so desperately trying to understand. Minutes ticked by, and I noticed beads of sweat beginning to form on Mr. Shori¡¯s forehead. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. This was a wake-up moment for me, as I had rarely seen Mr. Shori sweat before; even after a full day¡¯s work at the stall. It was clear that whatever it was that he was doing was not only subtle but extremely demanding. ¡®I need to figure this out... quickly!¡¯ I thought, sensing he might not sustain this intensity much longer. Driven by this sense of urgency, I set up another cutting board next to his. I duplicated his setup exactly, placing an identical amount of algae before me, and began to mirror his actions precisely, hoping to replicate whatever unique method he was employing. But as I began, something odd caught my attention¡ªmy knife wasn''t actually slicing through the algae at all. Puzzled, I paused, focusing intently on my own board rather than Mr. Shori¡¯s. I replicated his motions with downright frightening exactness, yet my blade merely nudged the algae, barely missing actual cuts by fractions of a millimetre. It was a frustrating, exasperating moment; I was doing everything right, yet somehow, it wasn¡¯t quite right¡ªI was wasting valuable time that Mr. Shori¡¯s endurance might not give. ¡®I guess I need a bigger knife; my RaZ isn¡¯t cutting it here¡ªliterally,¡¯ I figured as I stepped away and tried to reach for one of the kitchen knives further away, only to stop halfway through my movement; a sudden epiphany coalescing in my mind. Rushing back to the cutting boards, I leaned in dangerously close to where Mr. Shori continued his methodical slicing. ¡°No fucking way¡­¡± I whispered, as I finally realised what it was that had caused this strange feeling as I watched Mr. Shori cut the algae earlier. The answer was as simple as it was impossible: He wasn¡¯t. Just like with my RaZ, the knives in his hands were barely grazing the algae. Yet, unlike my attempts, the algae parted seamlessly as if sliced cleanly through. As Mr. Shori¡¯s knives glided over the algae, they continued to "cut" without ever truly making contact¡ªmimicking the effect of vibro-weaponry, though I knew for a fact that these were the same standard knives I had been using for over a week, constantly sharpened with my [Sharpen] Perk. I knew those knives better than just about anything else in this world and they definitely had no vibro-tech built in; of that, I was 100% certain. ¡°How¡­?¡± I found myself muttering, completely transfixed by Mr. Shori''s baffling knife technique that seemed to cut without cutting. With a contented smile, Mr. Shori ceased his movements, staggering backward a step. I quickly reached out to steady him. He chuckled heartily, a sound that filled the space with warmth. ¡°Haha, I not do this in long time. More exhausting than I remember.¡± He gratefully sank down onto a nearby crate, one I knew was stocked with algae. I hurried to hand him a cup of water. Staying hydrated had been a challenge during my initial days at the stall; I''d almost fainted from neglect on my first day. But Mr. Shori had emphasised its importance, insisting I drink at least a full cup every hour. Since then, I''d always kept a cup of water close by, starting from my second day; the very same cup that I was now handing back to him. After a few gulps of water and some heavy breaths, Mr. Shori locked eyes with me again, his expression serious but open. "You see now?" he inquired. I nodded, somewhat bewildered but starting to grasp the concept. The idea of wielding a knife like a blade wasn''t about the physical knife at all, but more about an invisible force, a technique that Mr. Shori somehow mastered to make the knife act beyond its simple form¡ªthe size more akin to a blade than a knife. Feeling a bit more clued in, yet still confused, I responded cautiously, "I¡­ I think so? But I don¡¯t understand how, Mr. Shori. It looked like the knife was a vibro-weapon, but... they''re just regular knives. How do you do that?" He nodded slowly, a deep wisdom reflected in his gaze. ¡°I will teach. Ela need know how to wield knife like blade, to be safe,¡± he said with a resolve that was both comforting and daunting. ¡°But don¡¯t misunderstand. I would rather Ela be safe, no need for fight. No knife, no blade, no fight. Just safe. But I not stupid; young people sometimes need fight¡ªthat is life. I, too, once fight much. Without many fight, no Shori¡¯s Noodles. Ela¡¯s journey will need fight too, I think; I help prepare.¡± Mr. Shori''s broken English didn''t dampen the gravity of his words or lessen their impact in any way. As he made his heartfelt declaration, I felt a surge of emotions, with tears threatening to spill from my eyes. He truly was a unique beacon of kindness in this world. Not only had he extended a helping hand towards me out of pure generosity, the very first time we had met, but he had also offered protection, provided me with a job, taught me culinary skills, and even provided free meals on top of my salary. His actions yesterday had even shown his willingness to protect me at his own risk, and now, he was ready to teach me some advanced knife-wielding techniques. Summoning all my composure, I managed only a grateful nod, knowing my voice would fail to convey my gratitude. ¡°But not now; I need rest,¡± he said with a rueful smile, showing his age. ¡°I not young anymore¡­ I teach after lunch rush; close up stall early today. Ela need basics, then Ela safe.¡± I was about to insist he shouldn¡¯t go to such lengths for me, especially closing up the stall early seemed excessive for somebody he had only known for about a week, but he was already standing, hand raised to stop me mid-protest. ¡°I not do this for just Ela. I do this for Shori too. Shori worry otherwise. So we do today, no delay. No delay, no worry. It is good for all,¡± he stated firmly, then added with a mischievous grin I hadn¡¯t seen before, ¡°Ela should listen to Sensei. Sensei knows best.¡± Stunned by his unexpected joviality, I found myself speechless as Mr. Shori returned to the front of the stall, his laughter echoing gently behind him¡­
Over the next few hours, I threw myself into the work with gusto, determined to compensate for Mr. Shori¡¯s planned early closing by doubling my efforts. As the broth simmered and the algae were neatly prepped, I even ventured to the front of the stall to interact directly with the customers for the first time. Initially, I was nervous about handling the orders, fearing I might bungle the task. However, Mr. Shori''s silent approval and grateful nods gave me the confidence and peace of mind to slip into a comfortable rhythm. I swiftly moved from assembling the ramen bowls to garnishing them, ensuring each was perfect before Mr. Shori gave his nod of approval. My aim was clear: Push as many orders as possible out the window to not let the early closing hit him too hard financially. To my surprise, the customers responded extremely positively to my presence; many seemed eager to interact with me directly, likely intrigued by the new face behind the counter¡ªnovelty was an advertisement in itself, after all. During this busy spell, Mr. Shori even managed to snag a rare moment of rest, settling into a chair tucked away in a quiet corner of the stall. Seeing him able to relax, even just for a bit, filled me with a sense of accomplishment and relief, further aiding my energised pace. ¡°So¡­ Are you Yan¡¯s daughter, by chance?¡± one older lady asked me at some point, her voice laced with a hint of conspiracy. ¡°Here to learn the ropes so you can take over when he¡¯s ready to hang up his apron? It¡¯d be a real shame to lose this place.¡± I chuckled, shaking my head as I expertly shuffled ingredients from one dish to another. ¡°Oh, no, I''m not his daughter, though that¡¯s a flattering thought! I¡¯m just someone who''s had the good fortune of benefiting from Mr. Shori¡¯s incredible generosity. I¡¯ve been working here for about a week now, but mostly out of sight in the back. I¡¯m still getting the hang of dealing directly with customers¡­¡± The lady¡¯s expression softened into a warm smile. ¡°Well, I think you¡¯re doing quite well for yourself, girl. You should consider helping Yan out front more often like this. It¡¯s nice to see that his strange habit of helping strays is actually paying off for once.¡± Throughout the morning, I engaged in similar exchanges with several of the regulars, even sharing my adopted name, Ela, with a few. Mr. Shori watched from his vantage point, a pleased smile creeping across his face as he saw my budding confidence in customer interaction. It warmed my heart to see him happy and solidified my resolve to keep stepping up¡ªboth for his sake and the stall''s. By now, my gratitude toward Mr. Shori had woven itself so deeply into my daily thoughts that I no longer pondered specific ways to repay him. Instead, I was committed to embodying the values he cherished, hoping to live up to the life lessons he imparted. That was my plan to show my appreciation for all he had done; too far had I managed to indebt myself to him, that there was no way I could ever fully repay him. More than once, Mr. Shori stepped up and handed me a glass of water, recognising that I was overworking myself and forgetting to drink regularly, but without any ulterior motives apparent¡ªhe did not seem annoyed in the slightest. When I finally got a minute to take a breather, I had to admit that the day filled with excessive working and interacting with customers had been¡­ surprisingly nice, all things considered. I¡¯d never been one for customer-facing roles, nor was I particularly social, but doing all this specifically for Mr. Shori added just the right spin to make it feel exceptionally rewarding. As Mr. Shori began closing up shop while I tidied the back, anticipation bubbled within me. The mysterious knife technique he¡¯d hinted at was sure to be something special, I could feel it¡ªmy inner gamer was thrumming with excitement at the prospect of uncovering a hidden, secret-type of knowledge. However, before we could dive into any training, Mr. Shori came over with a big bowl of ramen and set it down in front of me, pointing firmly at it and simply stating, ¡°Eat.¡± I initially wanted to protest, all too eager to start the lesson, but one look at his unwavering expression told me it was futile to argue. Mr. Shori wouldn¡¯t entertain any training until I had finished my meal. As I began to eat, I realised why he had so insisted. In my eagerness to maximise the day, working as if I were two people, I had skipped any real breaks for rest, recovery, or even a meal. My typical lunch break had been bypassed in favour of engaging with customers and dishing out more ramen, which had left me downright famished. ¡®Sensei knows best,¡¯ I mused to myself with a wry smile, appreciating the algae ramen and faux-meat more than usual. Mr. Shori watched with a satisfied nod at every bite I took, confirming his wisdom in ensuring I was well-nourished before any training. I wolfed down the ramen faster than usual, driven not only by my intense hunger but also by my eagerness to dive into whatever special training Mr. Shori had planned. Quickly tidying up and ensuring everything was in its place, I sat before Mr. Shori, my heart pounding with excitement¡ªthe gamer in me completely taking over. ¡°Wielding knife like blade; more than just technique,¡± Mr. Shori began promptly, not one to waste time¡ªvery Shori of him, ¡°Wielding knife like blade more about will and believe, than pure technique. Technique important; but will and believe more. Need learn technique first, before Ela can shape will and believe into blade; we start here.¡± He picked up a nearby kitchen knife and carefully placed it in my hand, meticulously guiding my fingers to the precise positions he desired before instructing me to squeeze and hold the knife just as he had arranged my fingers. It felt immediately wrong. My [Knives] Skill was in uproar, the muscle memory it provided writhing in discomfort at this unconventional grip, which seemed a complete aberration for both culinary and combat purposes. Whatever Mr. Shori deemed the correct form for this technique, the knowledge imparted by the System was vehemently opposed to it on a fundamental level. I trusted Mr. Shori more than the System at this point, so I held firm, gripping the knife exactly as he had instructed. ¡°Now, move knife slowly for cut. Slow is better; do not lose grip or cramp,¡± Mr. Shori instructed as he picked up another knife and demonstrated the motion in front of me. It looked straightforward, despite the unusual grip, but the moment I mimicked Mr. Shori''s movement, the tendons in my hand screamed in agony, nearly making me drop the knife. ¡°Hurt is good; means Ela is moving correct for technique,¡± Mr. Shori said, his face serious; no longer wearing the gentle smile I knew him for. He patiently guided me through the pain as I attempted to complete a single repetition of cutting air. Despite his coaching, my hand continually cramped up until I dropped the knife. Throughout the ordeal, my [Knives] Skill was practically screaming at me to stop; it warned that I was damaging the tendons and joints in my hand and that my actions were far removed from any proper culinary or combat technique. I was risking serious injury if I continued. But continue I did, bolstered by Mr. Shori¡¯s assurances that I was making progress, pushing through the pain and ignoring the System''s incessant warnings. Then, after what felt like excruciating hours, I experienced a brief tug in my mind¡ªa sensation so subtle I might have missed it had my mind not been frantically seeking any desperate distraction from the pain. I barely registered the sensation before it was gone, but Mr. Shori had clearly noticed it as his face broke into a broad smile for the first time since we''d started. ¡°Yes! You feel it, no?! The tug!¡± he celebrated, taking the knife from my hand¡ªa hand now seemingly locked in the position he had placed it, my fingers unable to move. ¡°Ela is very good,¡± he added with a rueful smile. ¡°Took Shori many months to feel tug. Many frustrations, many times thinking ''I stop'', but could not. Ela feel tug in a single session; Ela very talented. Sensei very proud.¡± I couldn''t help but flash Mr. Shori a genuine, huge smile at his words. Hearing that he was proud of my progress felt indescribably uplifting. By this stage, I saw him not just as a mentor but as something akin to an adoptive father in this world. While Oliver was Sera¡¯s biological father, I had barely spent any time with him, rarely interacting outside the few dinners we shared. I suddenly realised I was tearing up as Mr. Shori handed me a nearby towel, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the surge of emotions. It had been far too long since I''d had a true father figure; my real father from my past life had passed away too early for me to even remember his face. ¡°I sorry for pain; only way to learn technique,¡± Mr. Shori said ruefully, mistaking my tears as solely pain-induced¡ªprobably for the best. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I asked for this. Thank you for teaching me, Mr. Shori,¡± I quickly replied, eager not to let him feel guilty about the ordeal. ¡°Seriously. Thank you.¡± At that moment, a completely unfamiliar chime from the System caught me off guard¡ªit sounded almost angry, if a disembodied technological entity of downright immeasurable power could even feel such an emotion.
[New {Technique-Skill} unlock detected. Do you want to discard [Knives] and [Blades] Skills permanently in favour of [{Anima Razor}]? Doing so will lock additional Skills and Perks going forward until [{Anima Razor}] is discarded: [Makeshift Blades] Skill, [???] Skill, [Bladed-Polearms] Perk, [???] Perk, [???] Perk, [???] Perk.]]
[Discarding [Knives] Skill will remove [Sharpen] Perk from User. [Sharpen] Perk will be added to [{Anima Razor}] Technique-Skill¡¯s Perk-Tree and granted for free upon Technique-Skills addition to User¡¯s Skill list.]
I stared at the message, reading through it several times, but I couldn''t make sense of what it meant. ¡®What the fuck is this¡­?!¡¯ I thought to myself, thoroughly bewildered and confused. As far as I knew, nothing called a "Technique-Skill" existed in Neon Dragons, nor anything that even resembled it; especially not one that seemed to have such a drastic impact on other Skills and Perks, that went as far as to downright lock choices away indefinitely as long as it was equipped. I was about 95% certain that this was either something completely new to this world or something far beyond the early to mid game content I was familiar with in Neon Dragons¡ªif it did exist in the game, it was undoubtedly a feature that would normally be unlocked much later in the game; far beyond anything I had any knowledge of¡­ Chapter 67 - Praecantatio Resero Utterly stunned by the System Notification urging me to make a decision for or against this new {Technique-Skill} I was being offered, I couldn''t help but feel a wave of panic. ¡®Losing [Knives] would be a big blow if this new [{Anima Razor}] doesn¡¯t cover the same type of knowledge and muscle memory downloads. It¡¯s been my go-to option for self-defence so far, especially after I¡¯ve just invested a decent amount of credits into those throwing knives¡­¡¯ I reflected, my mind racing. The gamer in me was itching to accept the new ¡°hidden¡± Skill without hesitation, but I knew the stakes were different here. This was my real life, after all, as much as I liked to game-ify things inside of my own head in order to try and stay somewhat sane throughout these insane couple of weeks so far. As such, I could simply not afford to haphazardly throw away my best defensive Skill, should I walk into trouble that I couldn¡¯t simply evade or run away from. ¡®Maybe my progress with [Martial Arts] means [Knives] isn¡¯t as critical as it used to be¡­ But losing it only to realise that the new Skill doesn¡¯t cover anything like it would still be a major loss,¡¯ I pondered, trying to rationalise a decision for one side or the other. Yet, making an informed decision of any kind felt nearly impossible without more information. The System didn¡¯t reveal what [{Anima Razor}] would actually entail in terms of knowledge or capabilities, much like it hadn¡¯t with any of my other Skills. And the name itself didn¡¯t give much away, except it implied something sharp; or at least I hoped that that was what the razor part referred to¡ªand what even is "Anima"? It sounded downright mystical, maybe spiritual or ancient, a term unfamiliar from my gaming days. While I knew the general concept of what ¡°Anima¡± could be, as in, what it was used for in other games or literature, it didn¡¯t really help me in this situation here. This was because just as with the whole concept of {Technique-Skills} in general, "Anima" wasn¡¯t something I recalled from any part of the Neon Dragons lore I had explored. I tried to recall any lore videos that might have mentioned something similar, but nothing came to mind. Neon Dragons had become such a massive hit largely because it loved to twist and remix typical genre terminology, dressing old concepts in new skins. So, making assumptions about what ¡°Anima¡± might refer to based on other games was likely a route to confusion rather than clarity. This lack of familiarity, coupled with the high stakes of this decision, left me vastly more anxious than excited about the mysterious new path that had abruptly opened up before me. With no solid information to work off of, I opted for my next best move: to gather any intel I could, usable or not. "What, exactly, are you teaching me here, Mr. Shori? I''ve never seen anything like it," I ventured carefully, making sure not to mention specifics he hadn''t introduced. It was always a delicate balance, trying to keep the System and its knowledge under wraps. Mr. Shori paused, furrowing his brows in contemplation before exhaling sharply in frustration and beginning in his mother tongue, ¡°{Haa, I cannot explain it in english. My vocabulary is not advanced enough, so Japanese will have to do¡­ What I''m teaching you,}" he explained, "{is a technique passed down to me by my own Sensei many decades ago. He described it as a ¡®blade of the mind,¡¯ which really captures its essence quite aptly. "{This technique, you could say, is a form of hyper-focused meditation. It demands a very specific mental state and intense concentration to master. But once you manage to consistently achieve this state, the potential is¡­ frightening. And it¡¯s not just for cutting algae," he chuckled to himself at that, the imagery of his esteemed Sensei teaching him a secret technique simply to cut algae seemingly tickling just the right fancy for him. "{To be quite honest, Ela, I barely understand it myself. My training was swift, with scant texts and sparse guidance from my Sensei. What I do understand is that it profoundly relies on the wielder''s mental state and is immensely taxing both physically and mentally. However, the benefits in combat are unparalleled; it allows you to significantly extend the reach of your knives and enhance their lethality. Given your exceptional sharpening skills, I am somewhat apprehensive about the thought of teaching you this; but I feel like you are not going to become a murder, simply because you could.}¡± His eyes met mine as he spoke, conveying the deep trust he held for me. It felt unusual to have someone articulate their expectations and trust so openly. Yet, for the first time, I was assured in my response¡ªthere was no way I intended to misuse this technique for harm, especially after the harrowing experience of my accidental [Murder] unlock. ¡°{I absolutely have no intention of using it in that way; I promise you that, Mr. Shori,}¡± I responded earnestly. ¡°{I truly appreciate your trust... Thank you. I can''t fathom how I''ll ever repay the debts I''ve accrued these past days, but I promise to try my best to meet your expectations.}¡± It seemed only right to mirror his openness with my own sincerity. While I wasn¡¯t ready to reveal the System to him, being honest about my feelings and the pressure to reciprocate his trust seemed appropriate given his faith in me. Mr. Shori nodded, content, and slowly rose from the crate where he had been sitting. ¡°{I am quite exhausted from the earlier demonstration, but considering we discussed the combat application of the technique, I think a basic demonstration is necessary¡ªjust so you understand what I''m trying to teach. This technique, devised by my Sensei, should only be used for self-defence; though, I admit it has not always been limited to such cases in my past¡­ It is just as effective offensively, but you should not use it that way, Ela. Employ it only in dire circumstances, and even then, be cautious about its use,}¡± he said, before grabbing one of the kitchen knives from a nearby rack. I noted that the rack was the specific one that Mr. Shori had specifically asked me not to sharpen knives from in the backroom; meaning that this was likely a demonstration meant to show me what a typical kitchen knife could potentially be capable of, given enough experience with the {Technique-Skill}. Stepping aside, unsure of what to expect, I watched Mr. Shori''s demonstration intently, hoping to glean insights into what exactly the {Technique-Skill} might encompass based on his movements. Mr. Shori closed his eyes, concentrating deeply, his body as still as a statue. Then after a few moments and with a sudden, almost strangely dramatic opening of his eyes, I felt a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The air in the backroom seemed to suddenly come alive, swirling violently towards the edge of his knife, creating what appeared to be an invisible blade that extended far beyond the physical knife. I could only see this phenomenon because the dust in the backroom, picked up by the air, formed a faint outline around this newly formed blade, making it look like a shortsword or maybe even a katana in length and size rather than a mere kitchen knife. My eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. I was so captivated by the spectacle that I dared not blink or consciously tried to school my dumbfounded expression¡ªI couldn''t miss a single instant of what was unfolding before me. As the air settled, the invisible blade fully formed, Mr. Shori gently brought it down on a nearby crate. The sound of metal shrieking and splitting filled the room as the invisible blade effortlessly sliced through the crate''s solid exterior without any apparent effort from Mr. Shori¡ªit was as if he had conjured an invisible vibro-blade from thin air. ''That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s not possible!'' I thought, despite the undeniable reality unfolding before me. This was something that, by all known rules of this world, should not be possible. Neon Dragons had been a sci-fi cyberpunk story, incorporating mild fantasy elements like different races and alchemy, but magic had never been part of its universe. Not a single mention, lore element or history about the world in the videos I had watched about the game had even remotely hinted at something like this. This right here, however, was magic. There was no other way to put it; the spectacle in front of me defying any sort of other explanation. Mr. Shori had somehow conjured an invisible, magical blade and sliced into one of the metal crates filled with our cooking supplies, meeting no resistance at all. As quickly as the blade appeared, it vanished, and Mr. Shori slumped back onto the crate behind him, visibly exhausted from the effort. I dashed over to steady him, my mind temporarily pushing aside the whirlwind of thoughts. "Mr. Shori! Are you okay?" I blurted out, concern lacing my voice. He let out a rueful laugh mixed with a cough that sounded worryingly harsh. "I not young anymore¡­ This technique, very exhausting. Can use in pinch, anything else¡­ Simply too much," he explained. Glad to hear that he was doing well enough to jest around, even though the cough brought up some serious questions about the state of his general health, I returned to the swirling whirlwind of thoughts inside my head; that much like the air swirling and rushing around the backroom just moments before, were wreaking absolute havoc. ''That... That was like magic... Or something akin to it, at the very least. It doesn''t really matter. Why is there magic?! There shouldn¡¯t be magic... I think¡­? Or do I even know if there should be magic? Why shouldn¡¯t there be magic...? Well... I''ve never heard of magic in Neon Dragons before...! What the fuck did I just witness?!'' My thoughts tumbled wildly, like clowns spilling out of a tiny car in an old comedy sketch. It was only when Mr. Shori''s warm, reassuring hand landed on my shoulder that I realised I was hyperventilating, struggling to process the inexplicable. ¡°Breathe calm, Ela,¡± his soothing voice broke through the storm in my mind. ¡°Is only natural reaction. Technique is unnatural; strange; confusing. Take time, breathe calm.¡± Guided by Mr. Shori''s calming presence and my own Ego Attribute working to quell my panic, I managed to regain a sense of composure relatively quickly. With a grateful nod to Mr. Shori, we both sat on our respective crates, breathing deeply, each recuperating in our own way from the profound revelations and exertions of the day. ¡®That was definitely magic, or some sort of it, at the very least,¡¯ I thought to myself with confidence. ¡®That¡­ Changes things, but I¡¯m not sure what exactly quite yet. I really don¡¯t know anything about this new world, do I¡­?¡¯ I continued to ponder with a growing sense of trepidation. One thing it did clear up, however, was my decision on whether to accept the System¡¯s trade-off of losing a whole heap of Skills in favour of the {Technique Skill}. There was no way I could pass up literal fucking magic, now that I knew it existed. Conjuring up the System Interface again, I went back to the Notification which was still waiting for me to make a decision on. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ''Alright, [{Anima Razor}], here goes nothing. Please let this be the right choice. I still need all the practical knowledge and muscle memory downloads related to knives that I can get. Please don¡¯t forget about those¡­!'' I thought, hoping the trade-off would prove beneficial. I confirmed the request as outlined by the Notification. Immediately, a slew of System Notifications came rushing in. [System]: [Knives] and [Blades] Skills have been permanently discarded. [System]: [Sharpen] Perk has been removed. [System]: [{Anima Razor}] Technique-Skill unlocked. The moment the notification of unlocking the new Technique-Skill popped up, a major chime sounded inside my head, once again with a sound I had never heard before in my entire life¡ªI was making a tremendous amount of System-related discoveries recently. [System]: Anima Attribute unlocked. Adding Anima Attribute to stat-screen and User profile. ¡®What¡­?!¡¯ Before I could even process the implications of a new Attribute suddenly being added by the System, the slew of Notifications continued. [System]: The following Skills and Perks are locked until [{Anima Razor}] is discarded: [Makeshift Blades] Skill, [???] Skill, [Bladed-Polearms] Perk, [???] Perk, [???] Perk, [???] Perk.]] [System]: [Sharpen] Perk added to [{Anima Razor}] Perk Tree and granted for free. [System]: 100xp gained for [{Anima Razor}] Technique-Skill. Finally, the flood seemed to abruptly stop as the experience for the newly acquired Skill was divvied out. Once it had ceased, my focus was entirely fixed on the line listing the new Attribute¡ªAnima. The implications of the sudden appearance of it were staggering and, arguably, even more world-shattering than the existence of whatever strange magic [{Anima Razor}] employed in this world. Staring at the status screen, the reality of the new Attribute called ''Anima'' made me question everything I thought I knew about this world and its rules. My fingers hesitated before I summoned the courage to tap the screen to open my profile. [<-- Attributes -->] Body 5: 300 / 5,000xp Reflex 4: 2,500 / 4,000xp Intellect 3: 1,400 / 3,000xp Intuition 4: 100 / 4,000xp Edge 3: 2,200 / 3,000xp Tech 2: 1,000 / 2,000xp Ego 4: 2,000 / 4000xp Anima 0: 0 / 700xp ''It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s really there,'' I thought, disbelief mingling with a growing, creeping sense of unease. ¡®How can there be eight Attributes¡­? There were only seven in the game. All the builds I know of are seven-Attribute ones; how is this possible?!¡¯ The very idea that the System could simply add new Attributes was beyond frightening. It felt like I had just had the rug pulled out from under me, sending me into a complete free-fall towards a never-ending abyss. My entire life in this world so far had almost entirely been based off of my pre-existing knowledge of the game Neon Dragons; with only a few things here and there being different. But even those things had made sense, such as the existence of more Skills or the way that some of the game mechanics had been incorporated into the real world such as with the Rest Function. None of them had broken the fundamental rules of the world that I thought I knew; until now. The revelation of an eighth Attribute threw open a floodgate of possibilities¡ªwas there a ninth or even a tenth? The boundaries of this System suddenly seemed limitless. If it could just introduce something as significant as a new Attribute out of the blue, what was to stop it from adding more, or making even more radical changes to the world? The idea that the System might possess near-omnipotent powers was unnerving. It had already demonstrated its capability to alter reality, like when [Lightfoot] effortlessly erased my tracks and traces; even my very blood; from existence. That power was staggering¡ªwhat was to prevent it from deciding to erase something more significant, like a person? Like me? Was I just a passtime exercise for it? Something to waste time with, like a bad round of Sims? Had I actually died in my studio apartment and this was eternal limbo? Or maybe even hell itself¡­? I felt an abrupt tug in my thoughts as my Ego Attribute forcefully pulled me back out of the spiral of negative thoughts; pushing me back towards a more neutral state of mind. I could feel how desperately it had to work in order to keep me at an equilibrium with my thoughts, my mind continuing to want to spiral into complete nihilistic madness. Trying to occupy my mind with just about anything else it could latch onto to help my Ego Attribute win this battle, I opened the Skill List; I wanted to see just what exactly [{Anima Razor}] would look like. [<-- Skills -->] [Meditation] Level 4 - 200 / 4,000xp (Intuition/Ego) [First-Aid] Level 1 - 300 / 1,000xp (Intellect/Reflex) [... ¡­] [Martial Arts] Level 2 - 0 / 2,000xp (>Body/Reflex/Intuition<) [[Perform]] Level 3 - 0 / 3,000xp (>Reflex/Intuition/Ego<) [{Anima Razor}] Level 0 - 100 / 700xp (>Anima [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for [{Anima Razor}] Technique-Skill. [System]: 500xp gained for Anima Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Edge Attribute. The experience spread for my [{Anima Razor}] training especially was quite the sight for sore eyes. Gaining experience in five different Attributes at the same time was unheard of, even if the overall gains were quite minimal for each particular one¡ªit would still be a lot more beneficial to just grind them out normally, using Common, Uncommon or even Rare Skills, with their lower total Attribute count, but having the option to make progress in so many at once still felt amazing, nevertheless. ¡®Getting some extra [Negotiation] experience from taking part in the customer-facing aspects of the job is also something very noteworthy¡­ I guess it incorporates sales talks and things like PR in it as well; I wasn¡¯t exactly negotiating prices, after all. Considering I have a pretty important negotiation coming up, I really should just make this part of my daily routine for the next few days, shouldn¡¯t I?¡¯ I thought to myself with a growing certainty. All of my efforts were singularly focused on making sure that the Operator meeting would go the way I wanted it to. ¡®I¡¯ll ask Mr. Shori tomorrow; whether or not he minds. The customers seemed happy enough with me being there; even if working in a customer-facing environment isn¡¯t exactly my strong suit, nor something I truly want to do¡­ But the experience is something I can¡¯t say no to; not at this stage.¡¯ Once home, I quickly took another shower, hoping that the relaxing warmth and feeling of the water prickling against my skin would help ease up the pain in my hands¡ªbut I quickly realised the folly of my ways. ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck¡­¡± I muttered under my breath, as my hands started burning even more. Heat and constant irritation from water hitting them was definitely not the answer. Subsequently, I finished up as fast as I could, before once again creating a bit of a cold compress for my hands and heading into my room. I had more grinding to do yet; these coming days were bound to be chock-full of back-to-back grind sessions like this. Slotting in the SPG-01 shard into my neck slot, briefly having to trust my severely messed up hands to do their job before I quickly bound them once again, I delved back into Kill Joy¡¯s class; manifesting a chair as the first port of call, before his digital avatar had even fully finished loading. ¡®I¡¯m definitely getting better at this,¡¯ I thought to myself with a satisfied smile as I took my seat and waited for Kill Joy to start today''s lesson¡­
The first hour back in the netrunning grind was exactly what I expected, with Kill Joy rolling out a series of programs and quick-hacks, both in segment and subroutine form. He presented them as a showcase of the range and depth they could offer, both from the perspective of a netrunner and a typical corpo-drone. The latter, as Kill Joy dryly noted, primarily focused on crafting programs for big corporations aimed at slashing jobs and boosting executive profits¡ªor, as those corporations would spin it, "enhancing efficiency and championing a culture of rapid innovation." Honestly, my attention waned during these parts of the SPG-01 shard''s guided lessons. Despite my best efforts, after the umpteenth explanation of corporate programs designed to perform singular tasks with ruthless efficiency, my interest dwindled. These segments lacked any creative or alternative uses that might have sparked more of my attention. While Kill Joy delved into the intricacies of these programs¡ªhow they achieved their speed and efficiency and the nuances that made them effective¡ªI only half-listened, scraping just enough engagement to glean some experience but not enough to fully absorb everything the shard had to offer. I did, of course, feel a twinge of guilt about this, especially considering the cost of the shard and the fact it was Gabriel¡¯s money funding this somewhat lackadaisical approach. But trying to compress what was meant to be a year¡¯s worth of netrunning lessons into just a few weeks necessitated some tough choices; sacrifices had to be made. Or as Kill Joy¡¯s lessons on corporate efficiency might suggest, I had ¡°minimized production costs to expedite the development of the market-ready prototype for initial focus-group testing.¡± After about an hour, we hit the part of the lecture I was actually jazzed about¡ªmy absolutely favorite section in the whole shard so far, actually. "With all that said, let¡¯s dive into some hands-on experience in the Cyberspace you¡¯re most likely to encounter in the near to medium-term future, girl," Kill Joy declared with a knowing smirk. We had ventured into faux-Cyberspaces a few times already, but today''s session was set to be a bit of a different, more unique experience. "As I promised last time, today''s excursion won¡¯t be in the usual faux-Cyberspace we¡¯ve been exploring. Instead, we''ll be stepping into a re-creation of Neo Avalis¡¯ very own Cyberspace. This version is about 3.347 years out of date from today, but it should still give you a nearly perfect snapshot of what you¡¯d encounter if you were to venture into the real thing on your own today, girl." That''s right. Today was a big day. I had been eagerly anticipating this part of the shard after skimming through the vast array of lectures and sessions it offered more than two weeks ago; and today was finally the day! For the very first time, I was going to get a glimpse of Neo Avalis'' Cyberspace¡ªeven if it was just a slightly outdated re-creation, it felt like the perfect intro to the world of netrunning. At Kill Joy¡¯s cue, I sprang from my chair and hurried over to his side¡ªa routine we had down pat by now, as he was the one who conjured up the small portal that let us step into Cyberspace; something we had done about a dozen times already. As we stepped through the portal, which appeared as a mere ripple in the air revealing a completely different environment on its other side, we found ourselves at a small three-way intersection. "Now, as a resident of a Megabuilding, your starting location for this little excursion has been set here, at this crossroads, to ease you into the experience, girl," Kill Joy explained, his voice echoing slightly in the vast digital space. "Megabuildings are some of the most dense areas in Cyberspace, due to the sheer number of connections, servers, and netrunning activities that occur within them. We wouldn¡¯t want to overwhelm you by exposing you to all of that at once." As he spoke, the surrounding area began to solidify and gain detail¡ªthe Cyberspace coming to life as the shard loaded the environment around us. ¡°This is intersection 6 in Baikonur¡¯s Industrial Zone, southwest of central Neo Avalis, just in case you need to find your way back or want to kick off your real-life Cyberspace adventures right here,¡± Kill Joy added, nodding thoughtfully. Right after he spoke, my cerebral interface buzzed lightly, updating with the location data he had just provided. As the shard continued to load, the Cyberspace around us began to pulse with life, each digital construct snapping into place with vivid clarity. Skyscrapers constructed of light and data soared into the virtual sky before me, their windows flickering with the glow of untold numbers of active interfaces, connections and data transfers. Neon advertisements hovered in the air around us, each promoting a variety of cybernetic enhancements and services. Their dazzling holographic displays seemed almost sentient, reaching out towards me with tantalizing offers, as if they could sense my presence and passing curiosity. I was downright entranced with the first advertisements that continued playing enticing promotional videos of the sheer impossible things their advertised products were capable of; but my attention was stolen away by even more things loading into existence around us. A cluster of security programs materialized, resembling robust, heavily armored sentinels. These faceless enforcers, akin to amalgamations of humanoid shape, coupled with code snippets and impossible alterations to their form, patrolled the area with an air of authority, their presence scanning for intrusions or data corruption. Their presence was a stark reminder that even in this digital world, the corporations and the government under their control¡¯s rule of law was absolute. As the faux-Cyberspace came into complete focus, the atmosphere around us grew even more charged. The air hummed with an electric buzz, reminiscent of a live wire¡ªa vivid illustration of the raw energy that powered this virtual realm. More neon lights flickered to life, painting the digital landscape in vivid hues of blue and pink, casting long, stark shadows across the ground. The now illuminated ground beneath our feet was a patchwork of translucent tiles that occasionally flickered, revealing glimpses of underlying code snippets or the brief spark of color from a code transfer passing by¡ªlike looking through ice into a frozen river teeming with fish. Every few steps, the tiles would flicker outward from our footsteps, sending digital ripples across the landscape, informing whomever or whatever of our existence and exact position. Directly ahead, a towering datastream erupted like a digital geyser, its streams of code cascading upward before dispersing into a fine mist, simulating the chaotic beauty of an upside-down waterfall. To my left, a virtual tree bloomed suddenly into existence, its leaves comprised of tiny, shimmering pixels that changed color with the virtual wind that I suddenly felt brushing against my avatar¡¯s skin. It was utterly surreal to see natural elements reimagined in this pixelated form, their movements dictated by algorithms rather than biology. Above, what looked like a traditional sky was instead a vast network of data paths, where streams of light zipped back and forth with unknown purpose, their trails lingering in the air like the tails of shooting stars. Occasionally, a burst of data would explode like fireworks, marking the completion of some unseen transaction or operation. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Even the clouds themselves were part of the tapestry, the massive constructs briefly flashing in different hues and colors as thousands upon thousands of data-streams were sent and received at any given moment. But the most startling aspect of the whole thing, were the citizens of this digital world¡ªavatars representing real individuals that had once walked these same data streets. Some appeared as perfect human replicas, while others embraced more fantastical elements, sporting wings or tails, their appearances limited only by imagination and coding skill. A few rare instances of purely code-based constructs blipped past as well, blinking in and out of existence every few seconds as they continued their way to whatever destination they had in mind. The conversations of the countless avatars were a mix of audible and silent data exchanges¡ªsome mirrored as normal conversations, while others a series of images flashing by rapidly or utterly silent¡ªcreating a symphony of strange, digital noise that was both overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time. All around us, the Cyberspace of Neo Avalis pulsed with a frightening amount of life. It wasn¡¯t just a space or a location, but rather a living, breathing entity that was simultaneously strangely familiar and utterly alien. A world fully constructed of data and dreams, where the impossible not only existed but thrived. The more the environment took shape, the more I felt both awe and a severe twinge of vertigo as the line between the virtual and the real continued to blur. The previous excursions to the faux-Cyberspace had already caused me a lot of trouble with derealisation, after spending quite a lot of time inside of them, but I now realized that Kill Joy had been right all along¡ªwithout those faux-Cyberspace sessions, simply entering this recreation of the real thing would have absolutely knocked me out. This place was on a completely different level than anything I had ever experienced or imagined possible. While Neon Dragons had featured a Cyberspace, comparing that to this was like comparing a child''s playhouse to managing an entire nation¡ªsuch was the disparity in sheer complexity, visual difference and scope. I spent the first ten minutes simply soaking in the new environment, trying to adjust to the overwhelming digital world around me. At some point, I turned my attention to Kill Joy¡¯s avatar, which had transformed from its usual human-like appearance to a solid gold version. ¡°Very humble¡­¡± I quipped lightly, noting that a gold avatar was perfectly in line with Kill Joy''s flamboyantly narcissistic persona from the game. Glancing down at myself, I noticed I was still just Sera, unchanged and distinctly human without any digital enhancements¡ªplain in comparison to the myriad of modified avatars parading around near us. Feeling somewhat plain and out of place, I immediately turned to Kill Joy with a query, ¡°Say¡­ How do I change my avatar, Mr. Joy? Could I go full-gold like you?¡± He struck a pose, clearly reveling in the opportunity to flaunt his gleaming avatar, my subtle flattery hitting its mark; as it usually did. ¡°My dear girl, avatar customization is a capstone of our sessions! It¡¯s best to initially navigate this space in a form closest to your natural one, as real as can be here. I¡¯ll introduce you to avatar customization at the conclusion of the manifestation-based module. You¡¯ll need its teachings to fully grasp the process,¡± he explained. With a playful wink, he added, ¡°If you¡¯re good, I might even throw in the Kill Joy special gold-skin as a bonus when you complete the shard, girl.¡± I nodded enthusiastically¡ªmore for his benefit than any real eagerness to adopt a flashy golden appearance¡ªand once again turned to take in the digital landscape around us. With so much to see, it was hard to focus on just one thing; the vibrant Cyberspace was a feast for the senses. ¡°Now, for today¡¯s lesson,¡± Kill Joy began, recapturing my attention, ¡°we''ll focus on navigation, infiltration, and combat in Cyberspace.¡± My eyes widened in surprise at that assertion. We hadn¡¯t delved much into infiltration or combat at all yet, so his announcement that we¡¯d be jumping straight into practical applications felt unexpectedly abrupt, especially given Kill Joy¡¯s preference for a traditional approach¡ªusually theory first; quite a lot of it; then practice. ¡°Worry not, girl,¡± he quickly added, noticing my slight alarm before I could even express it. ¡°I''ll be right here with you the whole time, and we''re alone in this Cyberspace. All the avatars you see are just specters of the real thing; they¡¯re recordings from when this recreation was captured. They can¡¯t hurt you, nor can you truly interact with them.¡± ¡®Ah, they¡¯re like NPCs,¡¯ I thought to myself, simplifying the explanation in my head to make it easier to digest. It always helped to frame these overwhelming new concepts in familiar gaming terms, which made the barrage of information I¡¯d been facing since arriving in this world more manageable. ¡®Maybe I should start creating a wiki or something?¡¯ I pondered quietly. ¡®Buy a small server, host a private wiki, jot down everything I remember from Neon Dragons, add new learnings, and try to cross-reference with a program? That might help me pin down my exact place in the timeline and figure out just how far this world has deviated from the game I knew¡­?¡¯ Perusing video game wikis had been a significant hobby of mine¡ªmostly for scouring obscure knowledge but occasionally also for contributing. Whenever I stumbled upon something unusual, missing, or just plain interesting, I was quick to update the wiki. A wiki''s success depended on everyone pitching in, after all. Tucking away the idea of creating a wiki for later, I turned back to Kill Joy and prompted him to continue the lesson. ¡°So¡­ where do we start?¡± A grinning emoticon popped up in front of his face as he answered, ¡°That¡¯s the fun part: Wherever you want! Welcome to Cyberspace, girl; enjoy your stay! Feel free to explore a bit. I¡¯ll stick close by, and if anything piques your interest, dive right in. Normally, you''d have to stick to the rules and avoid breaking laws or stepping on toes in the real Cyberspace; here, though, you can just let loose. Try everything! Be a tourist, a shopper, even a criminal¡ªwhatever strikes your fancy at the moment.¡± I blinked, taken aback for a couple of reasons. First, his casual suggestion that I could even dabble in virtual criminality was more than unexpected. More strikingly, however, the freedom he handed me in a guided lesson seemed out of character compared to our usual structured interactions. Up until now, the SPG-01 shard''s lessons had been much more structured, almost like a traditional school class. Kill Joy would set a task, provide some guidance, and then review my work, pointing out both mistakes and successes before introducing the next challenge. But this? This ¡°do whatever you want¡± approach? It threw me for a loop. I didn¡¯t really have any specific goals besides finishing the shard, unlocking the first segments and subroutines of quick-hacks, and starting to build my own library of them. Was there any other reason for me to be here in this simulated Cyberspace¡­? Upon reflection, though, I quickly realized this was precisely the opportunity I needed at this moment. A replica of Neo Avalis¡¯ Cyberspace, all to myself to explore and experiment with? It was an ideal playground to sharpen my netrunning skills and prepare for the upcoming interview with the Operator. What more could I ask for to boost my netrunning prowess ahead of the meeting? As ideas began to coalesce in my mind about what I needed to explore, I turned to Kill Joy with a burst of energy. "Let''s go!" I exclaimed, launching into a sprint down a randomly chosen street. The first thing on my checklist was mobility¡ªspecifically, how movement functioned in Cyberspace. During our faux-Cyberspace training before, moving around felt just like it did in the real world, but this re-creation had a distinct twist. It was subtle, yet I instantly sensed something peculiar about the sensation of the "solid" ground under my feet and the "air" passing through my digital lungs as I moved. As I picked up speed along the pedestrian pathways, steering clear of the bustling data-highways that mirrored where streets would be in the real-world, I noticed two distinct differences right away. Firstly, my feet never truly touched the ground. The data constructing "me" and the data making up the ground were two distinct entities that never actually intermingled the way that my real feet would on actual ground. Instead, there was this almost imperceptible gap where I would bounce off the surface just millimeters shy of contact, sending ripples of data scattering from beneath my boots. This interaction, or "data-handshake" of sorts, created a kind of friction that propelled me forward¡ªa bizarre yet oddly intuitive concept. It didn¡¯t matter whether it was data-handshakes or physical friction; both effectively moved me where I needed to go, after all. The second realization was even more intriguing. With each step, I had an innate understanding that I could potentially breach the data of the tile beneath me during these handshakes. Moreover, I received a brief overview of the tile¡¯s purpose and the intentions of its creator or current controller. Each tile had its own unique digital signature that I instinctively recognized the moment my foot "touched" it, essentially providing me with a basic profile of what I was interacting with. Encouraged by Kill Joy''s advice to try everything, I abruptly halted on a random tile and crouched down for a closer inspection. Staring down at the semi-translucent tile, I tried to decipher what it was made of but couldn''t pin it down. Initially, it resembled a massive slab of concrete¡ªperhaps the rockcrete variant commonly featured in Neon Dragons¡ªbut its semi-translucent and oddly springy nature ruled that out. As I leaned in closer, the view shifted, revealing an endless, all-encompassing ocean of data beneath this and every surrounding tile. The overwhelming sight briefly disoriented me, sending a bout of vertigo through me that caused me to lose my footing and tumble onto the ground with a thud. "Ouch¡­" I mumbled, rubbing my digital backside, surprised by the pain. The sensation prompted an immediate question. "Wait... Why does it hurt¡­?" "You¡¯re feeling pain because each action has an equal and opposite reaction," Kill Joy¡¯s voice chimed in unexpectedly from the side. "Just like in the real world, if you punch a wall, the wall ''punches'' back¡ªnot literally, of course, but the effect is the same. Here in Cyberspace, if you interact with a tile," he tapped the tile beneath his bare feet, sending ripples through the data below, "the data making up the tile reacts to your actions. In your case, it was a physical reaction." I stared at him for a long while, trying to wrap my head around his explanation but struggling to reconcile it. The concept was straightforward in the physical world¡ªpunch a wall and it hurts because the wall is solid and unyielding. Simple. But in a digital realm, how could physical pain make any sense? I didn''t truly exist here in a physical form, so why would the laws of physics apply? How could a digital fall cause me pain in a place where traditional physical rules shouldn''t even be relevant? Feeling my utter bewilderment, Kill Joy spontaneously manifested a blackboard right there in the middle of the walkway; prompting a bit of a wide-eyed reaction from my side. ¡®I guess he did say that manifestation was really just about forcing your will onto the digital space around you¡­ I just didn¡¯t expect that to work in the middle of the street like this¡­?¡¯ "Let''s think of your digital self as a highly sophisticated program, girl," he started, sketching a simple human figure on the board. "That''s essentially what we are in Cyberspace, where everything is fundamentally just data, in one way or another." He proceeded to draw various objects around the figure¡ªbuildings, roads, trees, other people, and finally the tile under my "human" figure. "Now, when all these elements are data confined within their respective programs, they operate smoothly, but independently. They''re not designed to interact beyond their defined parameters," he explained, encircling each sketch in bubbles that didn''t touch. I nodded, following his logic, which aligned with my basic understanding of programming. A meal-planning app works with the ingredients in your fridge but doesn''t access the grocery store''s inventory¡ªit''s not designed to interact with external data sets like that, unless it had been created to do so in the first place. "This isolated functioning doesn''t apply in Cyberspace, where everything can interact with everything else. To move somewhere, your data must be able to travel from one point to another in this 3D space," he continued, drawing more titles under each bubble and then connecting them. "The simplest method for this data movement is through a pre-existing network." He detailed further, "These tiles are more than just the ground you walk on; they''re the basic conduits for all types of data transfer in Cyberspace. To go from the street to a building, you walk over these tiles, and it seems like you simply appear at your destination. But beneath the surface, ''you''¡ªthe data making up your avatar¡ªare seamlessly handed off through the vast networks of Cyberspace from tile to tile until you arrive. Makes sense, girl?" With a few more strokes on the board, Kill Joy illustrated how interconnected everything was. I nodded again, grasping the analogy¡ªit was like a message being passed hand-to-hand until it reached its destination, only in this case, I was the message. Kind of like a crowd-surfing thing at a rock concert; in a way. ¡°Now, regarding why you''re feeling pain," Kill Joy continued, shading all the images on the blackboard with a uniform criss-cross pattern to illustrate that they were fundamentally the same. ¡°Your data¡ª''you'' in this digital realm¡ªis essentially a program, albeit an infinitely more complex one than any daemon ever conceived. But fundamentally, you are still nothing but a program in this digital world, girl.¡± He went on to explain, ¡°If your data gets jumbled up with other data during network processing, it results in what you might call a ''glitch'' or a service disruption. It¡¯s like your program temporarily malfunctions because a piece of your code got scrambled with another program¡¯s code. Think of it as a botched merge attempt.¡± As Kill Joy drew lines connecting the ''me'' bubble to a part of the tile¡¯s bubble, then colored most of me blue with a small section red, and did the opposite for the tile, his point became clearer. ¡°When you interact improperly with another digital entity here, parts of ''you'' might merge with its code, creating the opposite reactions I mentioned¡ªin this case, a physical one that causes pain, as your ¡°program¡± is designed to signal pain, if something isn¡¯t right.¡± ¡®Okay, so glitches cause pain, and I create them by interacting with things in ways I shouldn¡¯t. Makes sense,¡¯ I thought, mentally noting this down. Yet, one lingering question remained, one that was crucial to my understanding of the risks involved in this digital world. ¡°What about the real-world consequences of these glitches? Like, if I fell off a skyscraper here, would I end up physically hurt in real life? Do these digital injuries translate back to my actual body?¡± This was a pivotal detail for me, as Neon Dragons abstracted such consequences with an HP system where dying in Cyberspace equated to real-world death, as your HP had dropped to zero. Since they were both abstracted and didn¡¯t actually mean anything tangible beyond numbers; it was an easy 1:1 correlation. But when it came to this being my real life, where I didn¡¯t really have an abstract form of HP, but rather very real blood, bones and muscles to worry about instead, the interaction might be very different. ¡°Well that one¡¯s easy, girl,¡± Kill Joy answered, a smug emoji appearing before his face. ¡°When you enter Cyberspace, your consciousness is directly interfacing with the data surrounding you via your cerebral link. If your program glitches, you feel pain¡ªthis pain is very much real; just like phantom pain from a missing limb might be. You might not have an acute injury, but your body¡¯s response to it is all the same.¡± His words turned more grave as he continued, ¡°If your entire avatar is deleted, your program shredded to bits beyond recognition or taken over by Daemons, however¡­ You die, girl. A body cannot live without a mind, after all. You will simply be an empty vessel, forever doomed to languish until its bodily functions cease to work due to a lack of agency. Your body will not be dead¡ªbut merely a shell without a ghost¡­¡± Chapter 69 - Cyberspace Foray II Surprisingly enough, Kill Joy¡¯s bombshell reveal about my Avatar getting shredded in Cyberspace leading to my actual death didn¡¯t really faze me. It was pretty much what I¡¯d been expecting, given the circumstances. While there wasn¡¯t any HP to abstract the damage in this world, dying in the game¡¯s Cyberspace still meant hitting reload¡ªessentially death, if you really thought about it. ¡®Note to self: Don¡¯t die,¡¯ I mused as I processed the mechanics Kill Joy¡¯s golden avatar had just laid out. ¡°Got it,¡± I said out loud before getting back on track. The floor tiles had lost all their appeal after that brief interruption, so I kept moving, eager to find something more interesting. My feet carried me past a bunch of different server sections¡ªbuildings or even whole blocks sectioned off from the main Cyberspace. They all screamed, ¡°Keep out!¡± with fences, walls, and even some rare, glowing force fields around the entire property. On a whim, I decided to check out one of these rare force field-protected spots. It was just too ¡°sci-fi¡± to resist¡ªwho wouldn¡¯t want to know what touching a force field felt like, after all? I approached slowly and carefully, half-expecting Kill Joy to pop up and warn me that the force field would disintegrate me or something. But as nothing of the sort happened, I felt more confident in my plan. Stretching my arm out as far as I could, still a bit wary of any potential nasty surprises, I finally managed to brush the tip of my fingers against the force field. The feeling was beyond strange for multiple reasons. First off, the physical sensation was weird on its own. My fingers sank slightly into the force field before they got ¡°stuck¡± and couldn¡¯t go any further. I could pull them back just as easily as they¡¯d gone in, but trying to push through felt impossible, like there was a solid rock-crete wall right behind that initial layer. Secondly, and more immediately worrying, was the strange shiver that ran through my body the instant my fingers touched the field. It wasn¡¯t a cold shiver, like something bad was about to happen, but a very specific kind of shiver¡ªI instinctively knew the field had just scanned me. I had no idea to what level of detail or what info it had grabbed, but I knew for sure it had scanned my Avatar completely. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± I mused aloud, hoping Kill Joy might jump in with some explanations if I threw out some thoughts. ¡°So the force field scanned me; I guess it now has my signature or something. A netrunner on the other side could potentially figure out who I am using that signature. Kind of like a fingerprint?¡± Glancing over at the golden Kill Joy, I saw him nodding, signaling me to continue. ¡°The field itself seems to be made of multiple layers. The outer one is super easy to get through¡ªmy fingers just slide right in¡ªbut behind it is a solid wall. No matter how hard I try, I can¡¯t push through. It¡¯s like trying to break into a solid rock-crete house with just my fingers,¡± I continued, reflecting on the sensations I felt while interacting with the force field. As I pondered about this, I suddenly had a small epiphany, recognizing the specific timing of the scan. ¡°Ah¡­! So the first layer is some sort of scanning field. It purposely lets you in easily to do that weird data-handshake thing, just like with the tiles!¡± Kill Joy nodded, looking pleased with my deductions. The fact that the first layer was there to facilitate a data-handshake but also had an added trap for a full-scan got me thinking, ¡°I wonder¡­¡± I conjured up my cerebral interface and quickly searched for Cyberspace handshakes. Luckily, the whole system had a search bar; otherwise, I¡¯d probably spend hours digging through all the apps and options. Instantly, a list of dates, times, and addresses popped up, the newest one matching the scan from a few seconds ago. Curious to see what such a handshake looked like in code, I opened that entry and was immediately hit with lines and lines of information. ¡°Whoa¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t help but exclaim, earning a chuckle from Kill Joy¡¯s alter-ego. The data-handshake was way more detailed than I had expected. It didn¡¯t just show the signature and time of day but also the type of handshake¡ªlisted as ¡°non-forceful probe¡±¡ªthe exact location on the force field, and dozens of other lines that were crossed out as irrelevant. There were fields for ¡°detected injection,¡± a binary for ¡°breach attempt,¡± and loads of other netrunner-related data. ¡°Does every handshake share this much stuff¡­?¡± I hesitantly asked Kill Joy, slightly worried that my dreams of becoming a fledgeling netrunner for the Operator meeting would die before I could even really get it off the ground. If every handshake gave away this entire suit of information, there was no way I could stay below the radar of anyone without some serious cloaking¡ªanother one of the many things I hadn¡¯t learned a single thing about so far. ¡°I could give you all the answers, but I really don¡¯t feel like it, girl,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s alter-ego replied, sounding a bit petulant. ¡®Wow, okay. Not like I didn¡¯t pay you to do exactly that or anything; stupid program,¡¯ I thought, a bit taken aback by his flat-out refusal. ¡®What good is a teacher that doesn¡¯t want to teach?¡¯ It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize why he¡¯d refused, however. I had to admit, I¡¯d been a bit too narrow-minded with my request. I pulled up the data-handshake from one of the tiles I¡¯d recently passed over and got my answer immediately¡ªthe likely reason Kill Joy had clammed up was because I could find the answer myself. The tile¡¯s handshake only listed the exact info I¡¯d expected: Date, Time, Location, and Signature. That brought up another obvious question: Why were the two handshakes different? I mulled this over for a few minutes, getting up close and personal with both the tiles under my feet and the force field a few centimetres away. But it was no use. Staring at these constructs in 3D space was no different from staring at the floor or a wall. There was no way I¡¯d get any answers like this. Resorting to my second-best option, I asked Kill Joy, hoping he¡¯d be more willing to spill the beans this time. ¡°So, why are the two handshakes different?¡± I asked, figuring this was something I couldn¡¯t just learn on my own. ¡°Because they¡¯re different handshakes,¡± Kill Joy answered with a smug smile, leaving me hanging before continuing. ¡°There are three types: Basic, Advanced, and Full.¡± He pointed at the tiles below our feet. ¡°These use the Basic handshake. They only need your digital signature to function, so a Basic handshake is enough. Force fields like that one,¡± he gestured to the radiant wall of light next to us, ¡°use the Advanced handshake. They gather more data to figure out who might be trying to access their info. It helps the owners of the server track you down if you cause any undue trouble on their address.¡± Then he pointed to the massive, towering data-structures in the distance¡ªthe megalithic, unmistakably corpo-buildings that dwarfed everything around them. ¡°And those ones would use the Full Handshake. That one gets essentially every piece of information transferred that you could possibly imagine wanting in Cyberspace. Things such as connection type¡ªas in, how you are connected to Cyberspace¡ªyour equipment, your cybernetic implants that are active at the given moment, and so on. It¡¯s a very intrusive, all-encompassing sort of handshake, only reserved for the most secure of areas.¡± My eyebrows shot up involuntarily. The sheer amount of privacy violations implied was staggering, but then again, this wasn¡¯t my old world. Privacy laws didn¡¯t exist in Neon Dragons¡ªif a Corp wanted your data, they¡¯d just take it. After all, who was there to stop them? The police that were already owned by them? The politicians that were literally the CEOs of the corporations themselves? ¡°I assume there are ways around that, right?¡± I asked, hoping Kill Joy might delve into cloaking or masking; basically [Stealth] for netrunners. ¡°There are,¡± he nodded sagely. I waited for about half a minute before letting out a big sigh. As far as I knew, cloaking and masking weren¡¯t covered in the SPG-01 shard. It was netrunner-specific stuff used for illicit activities and had little use outside that, so it wasn¡¯t included in the ¡°consumer¡± grade SPG-01 tutorials aimed at low-level corpo netrunners. You didn¡¯t want to teach your low-level employees how to mess with the corporation¡¯s servers undetected, after all. Deciding I¡¯d wasted enough time just staring at the force field, I fired off another question to Kill Joy, hoping this one would be straightforward. ¡°How do I get inside if this force field exists to keep me out? I¡¯d have to breach it somehow, right?¡± He nodded, encouraging me to continue. ¡°If I want to breach it, I¡¯d need some kind of program or quick-hack to get through. What¡¯s the difference between the two? Quick-hacks are faster, right? So why would I ever use a program then?¡± Out of nowhere, a chair appeared beside me. I got the hint and sat down, expecting this explanation to take a while. As soon as I was seated, the golden man started speaking. ¡°First off: Getting through something like this force field is easy. They¡¯re mainly designed to signal that whatever¡¯s on the server behind it is off-limits to the general public. They aren¡¯t meant to keep people out, just to inform them they shouldn¡¯t enter uninvited,¡± Kill Joy explained. He snapped his fingers, and the force field shattered in a 3x3 metre square, like a giant gate opening at his command. I had to admit that I was impressed by that, having just tried to push and pull at the invisible rock-crete wall behind the initial layer. But I knew I¡¯d been going about it the wrong way as well. Physical force didn¡¯t really work like that in Cyberspace, nor would my pushing and pulling have done anything to a real rock-crete wall either; so I didn¡¯t really even try anything that could have possibly worked to begin with. ¡°Much like your personal hardware is limited by heat, capacity, and RAM, so are the servers that host all the data; or rather, the servers used to protect the servers that host all the data,¡± he continued, conjuring up the blackboard from earlier. He drew a large rectangle and a smaller one next to it, pointing at the large one. ¡°This is the data server. It houses the information the corporation, business, or person wants to keep. It primarily consists of storage capacity, maybe with a few basic data-aggregation routines running. They¡¯re incredibly easy to access and navigate, making data-theft a real breeze. This is mainly because building a large data server with enough capabilities to keep a netrunner out is extremely expensive.¡± Kill Joy made sure I was paying attention before pointing at the smaller square on the blackboard. ¡°This is the security server. It¡¯s basically a deck, just larger and more powerful than the personalised ones netrunners use. It comes with the same heat, capacity, and RAM stats as your deck, just with a whole lot more of it.¡± He drew a bubble around the large rectangle as he continued, ¡°The security server acts as a defensive layer for the data server. It hosts all the defensive protocols, daemons, walls, and whatnot to keep netrunners from accessing the data server. This is where the real magic happens in netrunning, both for attackers and defenders. The defending netrunner usually has the home advantage, with existing defences and daemons, and they can offload some of their heat and RAM onto the server. The aggressor, meanwhile, has to get around these pre-programmed defences and the defending netrunner, all with their own deck¡¯s capabilities.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. My eyes widened as I realised just how daunting the task of being an aggressor was. I¡¯d always known that invading a defended system was tough, with a higher difficulty rating in the game, but I¡¯d never really thought about the ¡°why¡± or the ¡°how¡± in depth before. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, ¡°So¡­ how does anyone even succeed at data-theft then? If the defending netrunner has multiple times the power of the attacker and pre-installed defences, how could anyone ever even think attacking a protected server was possible?¡± With a big grin, Kill Joy replied, ¡°It¡¯s actually quite simple if you think about it: You either power through before the defending netrunner realises what¡¯s happening, do it sneakily enough that they never knew you were there, or you just attack the netrunner directly. Nothing says you have to fight the server itself, after all.¡± His words made a lot of sense in hindsight¡ªI had been so focused on the advantages of defending that I hadn¡¯t considered any of the downsides at all. The defending netrunner had to realise their server was under attack before any of those advantages would kick in to begin with. If you were done with your heist before the defender noticed, all the server power in the world wouldn¡¯t help them turn back time and lock up the data again. When Kill Joy mentioned attacking the enemy netrunner directly, I couldn''t help but think back to the game¡¯s mechanics for netrunner combat either. They were pretty involved¡ªmore so than other games of its kind¡ªbut I had a feeling the in-game representation was quite different from the real deal; something I was low-key kind of hoping we would get to in one of these lessons, but the shard¡¯s rundown hadn¡¯t listed it explicitly, which made me doubt we¡¯d actually get to it. It was likely something I¡¯d have to teach myself how to do once I entered Cyberspace proper¡­ Definitely a daunting task, but one that would invariably be necessary if I wanted to sell myself as a netrunner. ¡°Now to answer your actual question,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s words snapped me out of my thoughts about netrunner combat. ¡°When it comes to deciding whether to use a program or a quick-hack, the answer is simple: Do you need to get in today, or do you need to get in someday? If it¡¯s today, you rely on quick-hacks. If it¡¯s someday, then a program is better. ¡°Programs are purpose-built and can run autonomously, while quick-hacks need the injector to be present¡ªwhether that¡¯s you, a drone, or something else that can inject quick-hacks. If you¡¯re planning a heist ahead of time, getting access to a nearby upload connection and using a purpose-built program would be ideal. But that very rarely happens. So in 99% of cases, you¡¯ll be relying on quick-hacks for your offence. If you¡¯re defending, things are a lot different, but we¡¯re not really talking about that yet. As for which quick-hacks to use on offence, you should already know the answer from our first lesson.¡± He looked at me expectantly, clearly turning this into one of his impromptu tests. Luckily, this one was easy. ¡°Subroutines whenever possible, Segments if I have no other choice or encounter something unexpected,¡± I answered easily, remembering the first lesson about quick-hacks like it was yesterday. Back then, he had only shown me examples with doors, but when scaled up, how different was a door from a security server really, if you thought about it? They were both designed to allow things to pass-through or deny entry, one was just a tad bit more sophisticated than the other. Abruptly, Kill Joy tossed two shards at me, which I managed to catch without much trouble thanks to [Perform], probably the [Juggling] portion of it coming in handy. I inspected them curiously, unable to tell them apart at all. They looked exactly like the SPG-01 shard, just without the fancy design¡ªsimple, sleek, and monochrome. I glanced up at Kill Joy, waiting for an explanation. ¡°You said you wanted in,¡± he said, gesturing towards the force field. ¡°Those are blips¡ªshards with pre-installed quick-hacks that self-destruct after a few uses, three in this case. Try them out, get a feel for how quick-hacks work, and explore the world behind the force field.¡± Excitement surged as I quickly slotted the first blip, only to be scared half to death as a giant image of Kill Joy¡¯s golden, laughing face appeared in my cerebral interface. ¡°Whaaa¡ª!¡± As fast as it appeared, it disintegrated, and the blip refused to load. Taking it out, I looked over at Kill Joy, my heart still racing, and groaned at his smug expression. ¡°You should never slot something given to you by someone else without checking it for contaminants first. Never assume that even people you trust implicitly won¡¯t give you infected shards,¡± Kill Joy lectured me in his typical lecturing tone. I couldn¡¯t argue because he was right. Slotting something into the neck-slot gave it implicit access to your cerebral link¡ªthe very connection between your brain, body, and cybernetics. If the shard had been harmful, it could have done serious damage, especially since the ICE¡ªIntrusion Countermeasures Electronics¡ªon my cerebral link was probably far from being top-of-the-line. The best defence against invaders was not letting them access anything that needed protection in the first place. That¡¯s why layers were crucial in cybersecurity. The more layers between the data and the attacker, the harder it would be to access¡ªin theory, at least. There was one thing I could be mad at him about, though. ¡°You never even taught me how to check for something! How was I supposed to even check them if you never taught me how?!¡± Despite my very reasonable complaint, Kill Joy kept his smug expression and said, ¡°You didn¡¯t need to know how; simply stating that you didn¡¯t trust them or wanted to check them would have been a pass, girl. Not everything needs to be possible for you to be tested on.¡± I let out a long groan. Kill Joy¡¯s constant ¡°better than thou¡± attitude was really starting to grate on me. I had initially found it endearing and didn¡¯t mind it much during our earlier sessions, but spending so many consecutive hours with him as the Operator deadline drew nearer was pushing my patience. ¡®Keep your calm, Sera. It¡¯s literally just a program. The second you slot out the shard, it¡¯s gone. So you can ¡°kill¡± him whenever you want; no need to get upset,¡¯ I reminded myself mentally. Then, holding up the second blip, I said demonstratively, ¡°I don¡¯t trust this shard; I¡¯d like to check it, but don¡¯t know how.¡± ¡°Oh, why, oh my, would I ever have forgotten about this!¡± Kill Joy¡¯s alter ego played up the melodramatic realisation as he often did in these situations. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you remembered not to slot in things that you aren¡¯t sure are safe! That could have been a really bad problem if you did!¡± ¡®Breathe, Sera. Just breathe.¡¯ ¡°To check a shard, it¡¯s quite simple in most cases: Create a sub-section in your own system to load the shard into. If there are any harmful parts that trigger on insertion, they¡¯ll harmlessly wreak havoc in that little extra part¡ªallowing you to delete them along with the partition. If there are harmful aspects that trigger later, you¡¯ll need more sophisticated analysis, but that¡¯s beyond today¡¯s lesson. We¡¯ll cover those later,¡± Kill Joy explained, drawing something on the blackboard. As I watched him, I realised he was drawing up instructions for my cerebral interface. I figured he wouldn¡¯t lead me astray again; Kill Joy wasn¡¯t one to waste time repeating lessons. Following his guidance, I quickly found the partitioning part and created a small section to load the blips into before using them. Slotting in the second blip, I was immediately bombarded with a slew of warnings. My cerebral interface flashed signals in the corners of my vision, alerting me to something. Opening up the interface, I found a message waiting for me:
[Partition 1 overloaded due to inserted subroutine. Enlarge partition? Y/N]
It took me a moment to understand what it was asking, but as realisation dawned, I simply denied the request, only to be greeted by another message:
[Partition 1 overloaded due to inserted subroutine. Partition enlargement denied. Subroutine will be stopped to maintain partition limit and not impact overall performance.]
As soon as the message appeared, I saw, on the second ¡°screen¡± inside my head, the laughing face of Kill Joy freeze in place. ¡°I got the contaminant frozen. Now what?¡± I asked Kill Joy, unsure of the next step. Deleting the partition would get rid of the contaminant, but that wouldn¡¯t help me use the blip¡ªthe blip was loaded in the same partition, after all. Kill Joy smirked and replied, ¡°Good job freezing it. Now, simply create another partition and transfer the blip¡¯s data there, minus the frozen contaminant. Think of it like moving your clean laundry away from the dirty stuff. That way, you can still use the blip without the nastiness.¡± Following his advice, I created a new partition and carefully transferred the blip data, leaving the frozen contaminant behind. It was surprisingly easy; my cerebral link did most of the work. I just had to think about what parts I wanted to move, and the software inside my head took care of the rest. Once I was sure everything had been moved over, I deleted the first partition. I watched the frozen, laughing face of Kill Joy melt into pixels before disappearing completely, along with the second ¡°screen¡± in my head. ¡®Well¡­ That was incredibly satisfying. And not just because it was his face being melted apart,¡¯ I thought, feeling a bit smug myself. ¡°Judging by your expression, it seems everything worked well! Good job, girl,¡± Kill Joy commented, giving me an encouraging thumbs-up. He wasn¡¯t so bad once he stopped being all smug. ¡°Now, carefully read through the blip¡¯s description¡ªbut remember, this is just the description I entered. Whatever a blip¡¯s description says doesn¡¯t necessarily reflect what¡¯s actually in the data. That¡¯s the downside of blips; you can¡¯t delve into the code to see exactly what it does. We¡¯ll cover how to get a rough idea of a blip¡¯s functionality later on in the shard¡¯s sessions. For now, just be aware that descriptions aren¡¯t always accurate,¡± Kill Joy warned me, gesturing for me to return to my cerebral interface. I pulled up the blip¡¯s description:
[Description: Subroutine to enter any protected space entirely undetected, created by the majestic, beautiful, and erudite Kill Joy himself. Guaranteed to have zero side effects or weaknesses. ¡ª Uses Remaining: 3/3]
I rolled my eyes at the over-the-top description but couldn¡¯t deny that I had little doubt about its authenticity. Kill Joy was, after all, a [Transcendent]-ranked individual in the world of netrunners, programming, and quick-hacks. If anyone could create a Skeleton-Key blip, it would be him. ¡°Is the last part, ¡®Uses Remaining 3/3,¡¯ part of the entered description, or is this more objective information? Where does it come from?¡± I asked the golden avatar. This seemed like pretty important intel to know. If anyone could just enter whatever they wanted, you could easily get scammed on the number of uses if you didn¡¯t know how to check the real number. Kill Joy nodded in satisfaction at my question. ¡°Very good. I was hoping to hear a question like that, girl! The answer is simple: It''s an objective guess based on your software¡¯s understanding. So you can generally trust that the number is mostly right. There are very few instances where it will be wrong, but they do exist. If you run into a type of quick-hack you¡¯ve never seen before, it might guesstimate the number of uses wrongly. But for the most part, it will be accurate 99% of the time.¡± I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, glad that this was one thing I didn¡¯t have to worry about too much in my netrunner career. I quickly slotted in the first shard again, this time with proper partitions in place to catch any nasties from Kill Joy. After cleaning the blip and having it ready to use, I also checked its description, figuring that it was likely different from the other blip:
[Description: A collection of quick-hack segments designed to allow undetected entry into any protected space, created by the majestic, beautiful, and erudite Kill Joy himself. Guaranteed to have zero side effects or weaknesses. ¡ª Uses Remaining: 3/3]
¡®Hmm¡­ This would be pretty useless in the real world as is,¡¯ I thought. Quick-hack segments were valuable for their flexibility and utility, especially since they didn¡¯t need specific targets spelled out. If the blip just included a pre-arranged set of segments, it wouldn¡¯t be any different from a subroutine, except slower since segments are always slower than subroutines. ¡°What segments are in here? Can I arrange them however I like? If not, what¡¯s the point?¡± I asked Kill Joy, pointing at the shard in my neck. Once again, he gave me a satisfied smile, happy with my question. ¡°Good, good! You¡¯re learning fast, girl. Very good. Now, inside the segment blip, you have another option besides just pulling up the ¡°Description¡±. You can also ask for ¡°Contents¡±, which will display exactly what segments there are, with a caveat: You can only read their descriptors, not their code. After all, blips aren¡¯t meant to give you free access to copy your own library.¡± Nodding in understanding, and seeing the point of how it was set up, I called up the blip¡¯s Contents screen.
[==Contents==] [Segment Containers: 1/1/1, 1/1/2, 1/2/2] [Subjects: Layer, Wall, Gate, Door, Compartment] [Verbs: Open, Propagate, Search, Unlock] [Adjectives: Forceful, Fast, Quiet, Reckless, Careful, Skittish]
My eyes widened at the selection, my mind immediately racing with potential use cases. This blip would undoubtedly cost an absolute fortune in the real world, considering how many segment pieces were contained within¡ªnot to mention the unspoken quality of each one, having been created by Kill Joy himself. ¡®I wonder if I could somehow copy the blip¡¯s data¡­?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but wonder, but quickly dismissed that thought. If it were possible, every half-baked netrunner would have already done it. The SPG-01 shard wasn¡¯t exactly a super-secret item, after all. Now, more excited than ever to try things out, I stepped up to the force field and concentrated on the blip inside my head, assembling my very first segment quick-hack using Kill Joy¡¯s blip in order to break in... Chapter 70 - Cyberspace Foray III The first thing I did was choose a Segment Container from the available options. Segment-based quick-hacks had two different ways of being used: Free-form or container-based. Free-form was the most commonly used because of the segments'' flexibility and utility, which was their main draw compared to subroutine quick-hacks. But containers still had their own specific uses and were far from a rare sight. Mainly, they provided quick-fire access to a specific segment combination at a moment¡¯s notice, without needing to think about which segments to combine. It was like pre-loading a script with the segments you wanted to use and having it fire off the same way every single time. Another advantage was their increased efficiency in terms of Heat generation, as well as the option to add some alterations to the finished quick-hack at an overarching level, without needing additional segment pieces. If you compared the three different quick-hack methods¡ªfree-form segment, container-based segment, and subroutines¡ªyou¡¯d see their distinct use cases, even without considering their overall differences in complexity and functionality. Container-based segments were the most efficient in terms of Heat but the least efficient in terms of RAM usage, with middling storage requirements. Free-form segments were the least efficient in terms of Heat, while middling in RAM usage, with the lowest storage requirements since you didn¡¯t need to save anything extra beyond the segment pieces. Lastly, subroutines were middling in Heat efficiency, the most efficient in RAM usage, but the least efficient in storage requirements. Thus, as a netrunner, you effectively had three different ¡°play styles¡± to choose from, which could impact your hardware choices and vice-versa. Depending on your hardware, you might focus on one path more than another as well. For me right now, though, all that mattered was that I had access to all three types thanks to Kill Joy¡¯s blips. ¡®Let¡¯s see,¡¯ I mused as I perused the offerings inside the blip. ¡®Cracking this force field should be easy, as Kill Joy mentioned, so I doubt I¡¯ll need anything super complex. Especially considering I¡¯m using segments created by the man himself. I doubt there¡¯s any perimeter defence in this whole world that could keep someone out who used his stuff¡­¡¯ The easiest container to use in the blip was the 1/1/1 option. It let me slot one Subject, one Verb, and one Adjective into it, then use it repeatedly without having to redo the slotting step. ¡®To break through perimeter defence, I¡¯ll need to target it first,¡¯ I thought, checking the available Subject segments, also known as "Target" segments for obvious reasons. Several could fit the bill. ¡®Technically, this force field is a Layer, a Wall, and also a Gate. Maybe even a Door if we stretch the definition. But since it¡¯s protecting a whole perimeter, the most logical choice would be the Layer segment,¡¯ I reasoned, trying to recall Kill Joy¡¯s advice from our recent sessions. I¡¯d rushed through them during my netrunning-learning marathon, so not every word he¡¯d spoken had stuck. But I I¡¯d retained the most important parts. When it came to targeting, you wanted to choose the Subject segment that best described what you were trying to affect. If you wanted to open a safe, the best segment would be one designed for safes. If you wanted to open an ornate stone door, then you¡¯d use one for ornate stone doors. The closer the Subject segment matched the target, the more effective the quick-hack would be, as it didn¡¯t have to guess and fill in the blanks. Of course exceptions applied to these rules, such as the quality of the segment, the specific makeup of them and around a dozen other factors, but assuming everything else was the same, as I had to assume with these top-tier quality segments provided by Kill Joy, then I was better off using whatever was the closest Subject to what I wanted to target. With that in mind, I chose the ¡°Layer¡± segment and slotted it into the container before moving on to the Verb section. The choice on this one was simple, as it mostly told the quick-hack what it was supposed to do, even if the segments themselves were exceedingly complex. After all, they needed to not only do the job they were supposed to do, but also do so in a way that applied to a damn-near infinite number of use-cases. Taking the ¡°Open¡± Verb as an example, the complexity was immediately obvious, when thinking about what it could theoretically apply to. ¡°Open¡± could apply to doors, meaning simply to open the door from a distance, like with an automatic door. But it could also be used with something like a safe, where it would need to break through encryption and figure out the password before opening it. Both were viable use cases for the ¡°Open¡± segment, but far from the only ones. The sheer versatility was mind-blowing, and so was the complexity of the act of creating such a segment. The more generalised a segment was, the more complex it became under the surface¡ªand exponentially so. Most ¡°Open¡± Verbs in the game, from what I remembered, were only viable with very specific Subject segments. The one Kill Joy provided had seemingly no such restrictions, as there were no star indicators on any of the segments in the blip that would indicate the specific restrictions ahead of time. ¡®If only I could somehow get my hands on these segments,¡¯ I sighed ruefully. If there was a way to get Kill Joy¡¯s own segments, I would immediately become a top-tier netrunner, regardless of how much I actually knew about the topic itself, simply because his segments were bound to be of unfathomably superior quality. Putting aside those thoughts for now, realising that there was nothing I could do about it, I slotted ¡°Open¡± into the container with a quick thought, before I moved on to the last selection: Adjectives. With segment quick-hacks, you always had to include at least one Subject and one Verb, but you technically weren''t required to add any Adjectives at all. The container, however, required one regardless. That¡¯s just how Kill Joy originally designed them all those years ago and nobody had figured out how to break that restriction, as far as I knew. Adjectives, as the name implied, described how the quick-hack would behave once unleashed. They were among the most complicated segments to write if you were creating your own, as they applied to the Subject, Verb, and the underlying function of segment quick-hacks in general. With Kill Joy¡¯s blip, I had access to ¡°Forceful, Fast, Quiet, Reckless, Careful, and Skittish,¡± all highly useful Adjectives based on my limited quick-hack experience from the game. Forceful, for example, turned the quick-hack into a brute-force tool. It wouldn''t care about alerting security, tripping alarms, or avoiding traps, but it would drastically speed up breaking through encryptions, firewalls, and ICEs. Skittish, on the other hand, was quite different. Unlike Careful, which was the polar opposite of Forceful, Skittish specialised in avoiding enemy netrunners specifically. It wouldn¡¯t necessarily avoid traps or alerting daemons already in the system, but it would do its utmost to avoid being cornered and caught¡ªmuch like a skittish rabbit. Using this segment made the quick-hack extremely difficult to pin down and analyse, meaning the defending netrunner would most likely have to resort to area-of-effect, scorched earth type quick-hacks to destroy it, making tracing impossible. As such, Skittish wasn¡¯t exactly a ¡°Stealth¡±-type segment but more of an ¡°Evasive¡±-type one. Unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t yet covered the different types and tags of quick-hacks and their segments in Kill Joy¡¯s sessions; the cyberspace foray I was on now had come before the more advanced quick-hack lessons that would cover this more in-depth kind of stuff. ¡®Luckily, I still remember a bit from the game itself¡­¡¯ For now, I went with the ¡°Careful¡± segment and slotted it in. As I did, I was prompted to enter a name for the quick-hack, and it immediately appeared as a usable option in my cerebral interface.
[Quick-Hacks available: 1] [¡°Open Sesame¡± ¡ª Segment-Container (1/1/1): Layer, Open, Careful]
¡®Really outdid yourself with the naming on this one, Sera. Fantastic job,¡¯ I thought, giving myself a mental pat on the back as the interface displayed the name of my newly created quick-hack in stylized letters. ¡®Alright, enough goofing around. Time to break in.¡¯ With a simple mental command, I activated ¡°Open Sesame,¡± my eyes locked on the force field just a metre away. Instantly, a neon-green beam shot out from my neck, sizzling through the air with a high-pitched whine, like the whisper of a distant siren. The beam struck the force field, sending ripples across its surface, before a strange, almost alien hiss started filling the air; a sound like digital static mixed with the groan of bending metal. The force field almost immediately began to liquefy in a circular-manner out from the point of impact, melting and dripping onto the floor like glass succumbing to a propane torch. ¡°Whoa¡­¡± I muttered, entranced by the surreal spectacle. The quick-hack was doing its job, dissolving the barrier with extreme efficiency, even with the ¡°Careful¡± Adjective drastically slowing its normal speed¡ªit was downright frightening to imagine what the quick-hack would have done to the force field if I had chosen ¡°Quick¡± or ¡°Forceful¡± instead. The radiant, molten remnants of the force field dripped onto the floor, disintegrating into shimmering puffs of code¡ªglowing fragments that danced away on a breeze that didn¡¯t exist, like cybernetic fireflies caught in a spell. Each droplet left behind a trail of flickering data, vanishing into the digital ether. I was thoroughly mesmerised by the vibrant colours, sounds, and visuals for a few seconds, staring with wide eyes and an open mouth, before Kill Joy¡¯s voice snapped me back to attention. ¡°A perimeter security like this is naturally no match for even the lowest of my work, girl. No need to be so in awe; though, of course, I do understand that seeing my marvellous code work its magic is always a treat,¡± the golden avatar of Kill Joy chuckled. He gestured for me to step through the molten opening, which continued to expand as more molten force field droplets were carried away by the invisible breeze. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Right. Yes. Of course,¡± I said, shaking off the daze. ¡°Here goes nothing, then.¡± Carefully inching forward, I stepped through the newly opened, molten hole in the force field, keeping an eye out for any potential dangers or traps. My [Stealth] Skill kicked in as I did, helping me maintain a subdued posture and highlighting areas that needed extra attention. ¡®Glad to see my physical Skills work in here too. I figured they would based on the faux-Cyberspace sessions, but it¡¯s nice to have confirmation,¡¯ I thought as I continued to look around. Surprisingly, it looked just about as I had expected, albeit slightly larger than it had seemed from the outside. The area of the server I had just entered appeared to be some sort of office building, towering about five or six floors from the ground. I found myself standing in a meticulously maintained garden surrounding the building, complete with neatly trimmed hedges and synthetic trees that swayed slightly, giving off an almost natural vibe. Looking around, I noticed nothing obviously wrong with the place, except that it was surprisingly bright. Unlike the outside, with its strange sky filled with data-clouds and slightly dimmed lighting, the skybox inside this server was almost blinding. The artificial sunlight was warm on my skin, and a soft breeze carried the faint scent of something floral. I knew it was all just data streams converted into sensory input by my cerebral interface, but it truly felt like I had stepped into a mid-summer day. ¡°This is really cool¡­¡± I quietly commented, taking in more of my surroundings. The office building itself was a sleek, modern design¡ªglass and steel with neon accents running along the edges, glowing in a soft, pulsing rhythm. The windows were all tinted black, with no discernible way to see through them from the outside. They were likely closed-off sections of the server that would require me to breach again if I didn¡¯t want to follow the server¡¯s designed path. I stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes landed on a few small drones buzzing around the garden, tending to the virtual flora with precise, almost artistic efficiency. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, girl,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s slightly bored voice chimed in. ¡°Those are just vanity programs, maintaining the server¡¯s aesthetic appeal. They have no alarm capabilities and aren¡¯t really connected to the server¡¯s inner workings at all. Even if you destroyed them, nobody would bat an eye. They¡¯ll just respawn when the server cycles anyway.¡± I nodded, taking in what he said. No need to worry about the drones; I could just focus on exploring the server. It seemed Kill Joy wanted me to hurry up a bit, but I kept my pace even, not wanting to stumble into a digital trap or trip an alarm for any potential defending netrunners to catch me snooping around¡ªI had exactly zero training when it came to Cyberspace combat, after all. As I walked around the building, keeping close to the outer edges of the area and following the hedges that had replaced the force field, I eventually found the actual entrance to the server. It was a large, almost ornate gate overlooking the busy data-highway that was one of the streets of Neo Avalis¡¯ Cyberspace. From the gate, a gravel path led through the garden towards the office, culminating in a set of stereotypical office-type glass double-doors. ¡®I bet those will open automatically as I approach. No shot they won¡¯t,¡¯ I thought with a smirk. Some things were just universally true; one of them was that glass double-doors always opened automatically. I hunkered down at the edge of the building, overlooking the gravel path and the gate, trying to come up with a plan. ¡°Do I just walk in? That seems like a really bad idea, considering the server shouldn¡¯t have my handshake yet. I didn¡¯t enter through the gate, so anything requiring data from the handshake wouldn¡¯t actually work,¡± I mused aloud, hoping Kill Joy would correct me if I was way off the mark. This was completely uncharted territory for me; we hadn¡¯t done any B&E training in the faux-Cyberspace. It had mostly been about moving through Cyberspace without getting overwhelmed by the digital inputs assaulting my cerebral link. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kill Joy nod absent-mindedly at my comments, confirming my suspicions. ¡°Considering that, I guess the best way to continue would be to simply try and follow the server¡¯s main path until I hit a dead-end where the server requires further data for me to continue. As long as I don¡¯t trip any scanners or alarms, I should be fine.¡± I waited a moment for Kill Joy to correct me, but he remained silent. Nodding to myself, I got up and started walking towards the gravel path. Simply walking out in the open seemed paradoxical to remaining hidden, but that was one of the things Kill Joy had explained during our movement training in the faux-Cyberspace. When it came to staying undetected, it was often better to follow the natural path of data rather than forge your own path through ¡°stealthier¡± alleyways. For servers, this manifested as the ¡°path,¡± commonly referred to in netrunning circles. A server¡¯s ¡°path¡± was essentially the intended route for data to flow in and out or for external agents, such as a company''s computers or the like, to access the data stored within. Depending on how someone set up the server, these ¡°paths¡± could be anything from a single server rack in an open field to an office building like the one I was about to enter, with multiple floors and secured rooms. They could even be mediaeval castles or sci-fi space stations with thousands upon thousands of secured rooms. It all depended on the architecture chosen by the server¡¯s designer. The vast, vast majority of the time, however, the server¡¯s internal structure and layout looked eerily similar to its real-world counterpart. Since Cyberspace mirrored the real world, it was simpler to turn the existing 3D architecture it provided into a secure location, rather than to rip it all down and start from scratch. Furthermore, building an internal server structure to be as impenetrable as a castle took a lot of effort and required a tremendous amount of performance overhead to keep everything secure. After all, the larger the perimeter and the more rooms, sections and compartments there were, the harder it was for a single netrunner to keep an eye on everything. Following the gravel path, I walked up to the front door. The glass double-doors, just as I¡¯d predicted, slid open smoothly as I neared, welcoming me inside. The lobby was somewhat barebones, with a few chairs next to a coffee table arranged in a bit of a waiting-room setup. Across from the door was a reception desk, manned by a single, awkwardly 2000s-sci-fi looking robot. Its design was all chrome and clunky joints, a relic from an era when people thought robots would look like something out of an old-school sci-fi flick. The robot¡¯s eyes glowed a faint blue, and it seemed to be in standby mode, only springing to life if it detected an actual need for its assistance. The floor was covered by a red carpet that flowed smoothly past the reception desk, guiding visitors toward another set of glass double-doors on the right side of the lobby. These doors led deeper into the building, presumably closer towards the server¡¯s core. The ceiling had floating orbs of light, casting a gentle glow that seemed to adjust dynamically, avoiding harsh shadows and making the space feel open and welcoming. ¡°Guess they didn¡¯t bother with much decor,¡± I muttered, appreciating the oddly minimalist aesthetic. ¡°Definitely thought they¡¯d be a lot more fancy with things, considering the garden outside¡­¡± The lack of people added to the eerie serenity of the place. The only movement came from the gentle pulses of the holographic advertisements plastering the walls of the waiting room and the occasional flicker of the robot¡¯s eyes. I carefully stepped forward towards the robot, not sure whether it was part of the vanity-programs that Kill Joy had mentioned earlier or whether it was an actual programmed part of the system. As I approached, its eyes brightened, and it suddenly twitched awake and turned its head towards me with a mechanical whir. ¡°Welcome,¡± it said in a flat, synthetic voice. ¡°How may I assist you today?¡± I side-eyed Kill Joy, who was leisurely floating next to me, unsure of how to respond, but the golden god of Cyberspace remained frustratingly silent, simply gesturing for me to respond to the robot. ¡°I¡¯m just exploring,¡± I replied, keeping my response vague, not sure whether or not things were being recorded in some fashion. The robot blinked a few times, its programming seemingly struggling to process my non-specific answer. ¡°To access the stored data, please proceed down the main corridor,¡± it finally said, gesturing toward the double doors with a jerky arm movement. ¡°If you require further assistance, do not hesitate to ask.¡± I stared at it, slack-jawed. ¡®What? Why the fuck would it just tell me where the data is like that?¡¯ Backing away from the reception desk until the robot returned to its standby mode, I turned to Kill Joy, utterly confused. ¡°What¡¯s up with that robot? Why would it just tell me where the data is? How does that make any sense? Shouldn¡¯t the server be trying to hide the data as best as possible?¡± The familiar, smug smile spread across Kill Joy¡¯s golden face as he floated back, seemingly ignoring all laws of physics. ¡°Well, well, well. This should be something you can answer yourself already, girl. With everything this generous and erudite teacher has taught you already, surely you can come to some kind of a conclusion, at the very least?¡± I rolled my eyes, not bothering to hide my annoyance, and sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. Sitting was the next best way to think after pacing back and forth, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood to walk around. Surprisingly, a thought came to me quickly. ¡°If the robot¡¯s part of the server¡¯s design rather than a vanity program, it would be the first point of contact for external agents seeking information about the server,¡± I mused aloud, watching Kill Joy nodding slowly. ¡°Meaning the robot is not actually a form of security but more like a guide for data and external agents?¡± With a thumbs-up, Kill Joy floated closer, nodding again. ¡°See, I knew you could figure it out easily enough, girl. Don¡¯t always assume you don¡¯t know things. I¡¯ve taught you quite well in the lead-up to this excursion, after all. With such a handsome and smart teacher, there is practically nothing that should be impossible for you to figure out.¡± ¡°Alright, alright, I get it,¡± I said, rolling my eyes again but feeling a bit more confident. ¡°Let¡¯s see what else this server has in store.¡± I stood up and made my way toward the double doors the robot had indicated, taking a deep breath. The server¡¯s path was designed to lead me further inside, closer to the actual data-storage locations. No point in trying to diverge from it just yet, but I knew I¡¯d run into obstacles sooner or later. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a long corridor lined with dozens of holographic displays, each one showcasing a vast number of advertisements. ¡°Why are there so many ads in here? Isn¡¯t this a private server?¡± I asked, almost feeling like I had wandered into a malware-infested browser. ¡°Most companies want to recoup whatever server costs they can,¡± Kill Joy answered, surprising me with his sudden penchant for answering random questions. ¡°Even if they only have a few hundred employees, setting up advertisements like those can help cover some of the server costs. The actual increase in distance for the data to travel is minimal by adding a corridor like this, but for any netrunners or external agents who aren¡¯t directly hooked up to the server itself, the company gets paid for each ad that is passed by. That¡¯s also likely why you haven¡¯t run into any serious security yet. Why block off potential ad revenue before absolutely necessary, right?¡± ¡°Ah, makes sense,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°Greed and efficiency rolled into one. Classic corpo move.¡± I moved down the corridor, the holographic ads flashing around me with everything from slick car commercials to high-tech gadget promotions. It was a weird juxtaposition, navigating through a security server while being bombarded by ads for the latest smart toaster. At the end of the hallway, I reached a T-intersection. The carpeted path continued to the right, while a more utilitarian hallway led to the left. ¡°Huh¡­ What do we have here?¡± I mused quietly, instinctively moving down the left path. Everyone knows you¡¯ve got to avoid the main path if you want to find all the hidden secrets. I didn¡¯t get far before I felt a strange pull. I stopped dead in my tracks and took a few steps back until the pull disappeared. ¡°What the...? What was that?¡± I asked Kill Joy, pointing down the hallway. ¡°Security,¡± he replied nonchalantly, floating in lazy circles around me. ¡°A forced handshake attempt to check for specific data¡ªlikely some kind of access code given by the server upon entry, double-checked here. Or something even more secure, like an admin code, considering we¡¯re off the main path.¡± ¡®So it¡¯s like one of those scanners at the airport. If I get close, it¡¯ll scan me and realise I have tons of plastic explosives packed into my water bottles, as per usual,¡¯ I thought, eyeing the hallway more closely. I tried to spot a visual tell for where the forced handshake would happen and, surprisingly enough, found a slight bit of wavering air a few metres away, clinging to the walls, ceiling, and floor. ¡®Some kind of digital illusion, maybe? Trying to hide the scanner?¡¯ I had no idea what I was dealing with here, but I couldn¡¯t deny that the mystery was somewhat thrilling. Double-checking the blips I had access to, I quickly realized I didn¡¯t have anything to bypass this kind of security. At best, I could breach it open, but even then, I only had five uses left in total¡ªtwo for the segment blip and three for the subroutine one. ¡°Is there any way to disable the handshake?¡± I asked Kill Joy, feeling completely out of my depth. Cyberspace was a strange place, and I really had no idea how any of this could possibly work¡ªit was far removed from the limited experiences I¡¯d had in the game. ¡°If you can¡¯t come up with anything right now, then I guess not,¡± Kill Joy shrugged before flipping upside-down and continuing his lazy circling around me. He reminded me of the Cheshire Cat with his strange antics today. I had quietly hoped he¡¯d provide me with some blips to bypass the security here, but that seemed unlikely based on his reply. ¡®I could breach the walls and work my way around the security that way, but that would cost me at least two uses¡­ I don¡¯t really have proper breach blips either; all I can do is open or unlock things¡ª¡¯ Inspiration struck. I quickly threw together a free-form quick-hack using the segments Gate, Unlock, and Quiet, then directed it at the scanner. A nearly invisible line traced from my neck to the strangely wavering air as the quick-hack got to work. I watched in rapt attention, trying to see if there were any telltale signs that the quick-hack was failing or succeeding, but there was no visual indicator of anything happening at all¡ªthe ¡°Quiet¡± portion of the quick-hack really living up to its name. Its primary purpose was to hide quick-hack attempts, making it the most quintessential of all ¡°Stealth¡±-type Adjectives. After a few moments of anticipatory silence, the almost invisible line simply turned green, with no other indications of anything having happened at all. ¡°I guess I¡¯m in¡­?¡± I muttered, half to myself, half to ask for Kill Joy¡¯s confirmation. The slight nod he provided was all I needed to continue my search for the lesson¡¯s end. I gently walked through the scanner unbothered, feeling a mix of relief and excitement as I continued down the corridor towards the next door¡­ Chapter 71 - Cyberspace Foray IV Carefully walking through the door past the scanner, I found myself inside what looked like a locker room. It was strange, considering the building so far had seemed more like a high-level corporate office or a bank. But here I was, standing in a gym-style locker room with rows upon rows of lockers and wooden benches between every two rows for people to sit on while they changed. I gave Kill Joy a confused look, and, luckily, he caught my unspoken question immediately and deemed it worthy of an answer for once. ¡°The inside of a server is fully malleable, girl. Whatever the creator of the security and data servers wants to create, they can do it with enough time and effort,¡± he explained lazily, sounding almost bored. ¡°It seems the creator of this one had a penchant for working out, perhaps? Or maybe it¡¯s just a reminder of their youth; who knows. Regardless, I believe this lesson hasn¡¯t concluded yet. You best continue onwards.¡± Following his pointed look towards the centre of the room, I had no choice but to agree. Whatever the purpose of this room was or the history of its creation, I¡¯d have to just take it as it was and continue my way through. Strangely enough, however, as I started walking further into the room and looked around for any obvious signs of potential data vaults or further doors, I felt a strange feeling of unease come over me, step by step. Each step echoed slightly, the sound bouncing off the metal lockers in an eerie rhythm. It felt like my Intuition Attribute was nudging me, but after several seconds of thorough deliberation and observation, I couldn¡¯t put my finger on what it wanted to tell me. The locker room seemed normal enough at first glance, but something was definitely off. Dropping into a crouched stance, my [Stealth] Skill kicking in with muscle memory, I moved towards the first set of lockers and hid behind them. Something was definitely not right. I glanced at Kill Joy, floating lazily next to me, only to be met with an impassive smile. ¡®Looks like he won¡¯t help me out unless I ask the right questions, huh? Typical¡­¡¯ I decided to stay put for a bit, trying to figure out what might be causing this strange feeling of anxiety. I carefully scanned the walls, floor, ceiling, and the lockers nearby, but couldn¡¯t spot anything unusual. Frustration starting to mount at my inability to find anything, I turned to my teacher for some extra info. ¡°Mr. Joy, is there some kind of trap in the room? The blips you¡¯ve provided don¡¯t seem to come with trap detection. I don¡¯t see how I could adequately detect, evade, or disable one if that were the case,¡± I asked, trying to keep my tone diplomatic despite the annoyance creeping in. Kill Joy raised a singular eyebrow, clearly amused by my question. My Ego Attribute kicked in to stop me from rolling my eyes at the sight. ¡°Well, girl,¡± he started, his voice dripping with exaggerated boredom. ¡°If you don¡¯t have the necessary blips, do you really think I, the magnanimous, kind, erudite and charming Kill Joy, would allow you to walk into a situation like this? When you didn¡¯t even have any chance to deal with the issue?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He lifted a hand to his mouth in a mock gasp before breaking into a big smile. ¡°You¡¯re correct, of course. It¡¯s good to see that even a young one like you can be taught properly. There are no traps in this room. Or rather, no traps as you might traditionally think of them. That¡¯s all I¡¯ll say on the matter. Toodles, girl.¡± With that, Kill Joy melded seamlessly into a nearby row of lockers, leaving me alone in the room. ¡®No traps as I might traditionally think of? What does that even mean¡­?¡¯ I thought, furrowing my brows as I concentrated on his specific wording. ¡®There¡¯s definitely some kind of obstacle in the room. Kill Joy is an asshole, but he¡¯s never lied to me. So, no trip wires or falling boulders, but something is here.¡¯ With nothing else to go on and feeling thoroughly out of my depth, I had no option but to continue onwards. Sticking close to the lockers, I crouch-walked my way through the surprisingly large room, keeping a keen eye out for anything that seemed off. Luckily, it didn¡¯t take long to find another door located at the exact opposite side of the entrance, diagonally across the entire room. ¡°Well, at least I know where to go now,¡± I muttered to myself, half hoping that hearing my own voice would calm my beating heart¡ªbut of course, it didn¡¯t. Continuing to zig-zag my way through the huge locker room, trying not to stay in any given row for too long, I managed to get about three-quarters of the way towards the door. That¡¯s when I finally found the source of my Intuition¡¯s warnings. I carefully backed off, step by step, and hid behind a nearby locker, my wide eyes locked onto a strange amalgamation at the end of the row to my left. It was a digital daemon, a sort of multi-tentacled slime-like being, its colours thoroughly wrong¡ªa strange mix of neon black and red, like the code that made it up was a complete anathema to the way Cyberspace normally functioned. The creature writhed and pulsed with a disturbing energy, its tentacles moving in an almost hypnotic pattern. The black and red hues clashed violently with the air surrounding it, creating a nauseating visual effect that seemed to warp the very fabric of Cyberspace around it. Each movement it made left behind a trail of corrupted data, sizzling and crackling like static in a bad signal. ¡®What the fuck is that thing?¡¯ I thought to myself, feeling a mix of curiosity and dread. While I could instinctively tell that it was a daemon¡ªa sort of bad code, that could alter or delete other types of code like a sentient quick-hack¡ªthe exact type of daemon, I had never seen in the game before. The daemon didn¡¯t seem to have noticed me yet, but I knew I had to be careful. This was undoubtedly the non-traditional ¡°trap¡± that Kill Joy had hinted at earlier. I needed a plan. If this thing was guarding the path to the door, I had to find a way around it or disable it without getting caught¡ªor alternatively, leave behind this side-path and go back through the scanner and follow the main path towards the data-vault. But what kind of self-respecting gamer would ever shy away from a challenge like this, much less one that clearly pointed towards a reward? A guarded door on a side-path in, what was essentially, a dungeon? I was bound to get some kind of reward for this, even if it was all a fake Cyberspace; of that, I was certain. Taking a deep breath, I quickly scanned my surroundings for anything I could use to my advantage. The lockers, the benches, even the digital environment itself could offer a clue or a tool. I had no blips capable of combat and no sign of Kill Joy around to ask for more, so I had to make do with what I had. ¡®Alright, Sera. Time to think,¡¯ I mused, trying to recall everything I knew about daemons in Cyberspace. ¡®They¡¯re essentially semi-sentient pieces of code, designed to track down and attack intruders¡ªmost of the time, at least. Low-level ones are pretty dumb, so that might help. I have no offensive tools, nor any quick-hacks to protect me or hide me¡­ So I guess a distraction is the best I can hope for?¡¯ In the game, dealing with daemons was primarily done through quick-hacks. Quick-hacks didn¡¯t just open doors or data vaults; they were essentially the equivalent of ¡°magic¡± in fantasy RPGs, though only available in Cyberspace. Quick-hacks usable in the real world were mostly debuffs for enemies with cybernetics or direct attacks on their data-links¡ªless flashy, but still extremely useful, if used right. Without a ¡°Fireball¡± quick-hack to deal with the daemon directly, however, I hoped Kill Joy hadn¡¯t screwed me over by placing a super-intelligent daemon in my path. I quickly checked the remaining uses on my blips and decided to use the last charge on the segment-based blip. I threw together a quick combination of Door, Unlock, Propagate, and Quiet, aiming it at the lockers further down, away from where the daemon was. ¡®Here goes nothing¡­¡¯ With a quick mental command, the translucent, grey line shot out from my neck towards the locker I had aimed at, turning green almost immediately. With a squeak reminiscent of old, rusty metal, the locker opened. Immediately, the daemon¡¯s attention was grabbed. Its misshapen, slime-like body started moving towards the sound, away from the door it had been protecting. ¡°Nice,¡± I whispered, feeling a surge of relief. The daemon¡¯s unsettling neon black and red form slithered away, its tentacles twitching and leaving behind trails of corrupted data. Simultaneously, two more lines shot out from somewhere near my neck towards the lockers to the left and right of the one that had just opened, turning green and unlocking them as well. As the next two lines shot out, I started moving¡ªquietly at first, but as quickly as I could muster¡ªwhile the daemon was distracted by the propagating quick-hack that continuously opened lockers to keep its attention. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. By the time the third propagation happened, I could feel the heat start mounting in my neck. ¡®Gotta hurry up before I burn myself out¡­¡¯ While ¡°Propagate¡± was an exceedingly powerful Verb, one that I was unlikely to acquire anytime soon outside of Kill Joy¡¯s blips, it had a significant drawback: Heat. With each propagation, it essentially reused the quick-hack again and again until it stopped or couldn¡¯t find any more things to propagate to. The lockers were a fairly safe target, propagating two at a time, one in each direction. But I¡¯d seen videos where players used ¡°Propagate¡± and nearly killed themselves instantly as it arched out towards dozens of targets at once. Definitely a double-edged sword, but my initial calculations about its potential dangers to me seemed to hold true for now. Rounding the last corner around another set of lockers, the door now in sight, I felt the quick-hack activate once again. My neck felt like I¡¯d spent too much time in the sun¡ªsunburn was going to be the least of my worries. Quickly, I cut the connection to the quick-hack, letting it fizzle out after this final propagation. The daemon seemed sufficiently distracted for now. Not wasting any time, I quietly rushed towards the door. I quickly checked whether or not it was locked¡ªit thankfully wasn¡¯t¡ªbefore double-checking the daemon¡¯s position. The slime-like creature was about thirty metres away, inspecting the last of the lockers that had opened. Each time one of its tentacles touched the locker¡¯s data constructs, a hiss could be heard as the impossibly coloured data of the daemon practically melted parts of the construct itself, causing broken and corrupted data to crumple onto the floor of the locker room. ¡®Better you than me, locker-chan,¡¯ I thought with a hint of a smile, before opening the door, stepping through, and carefully closing it behind me. I had no idea whether the daemon could leave the locker room, so I wanted to make sure it was thoroughly unaware of my presence. The new room was a stark contrast to the locker room in more ways than one. Firstly, it was much smaller, more akin to a janitor¡¯s closet than an actual room. Secondly, it was exceedingly well-lit. Where the locker room had been tinged in ominous darkness, this room was almost unrealistically bright, bathed in a strange golden hue. What took the cake for absolute strangeness, however, was the singular other thing inside the room¡ªbesides myself and the obnoxious face of Kill Joy peering out from the wall next to me. It was a chest. I did a double and triple take to make sure I wasn¡¯t hallucinating, but it truly appeared to be a bona fide treasure chest, like something straight out of a traditional jRPG. It sat there in the middle of the small room, atop a burgundy carpet, as if mocking gaming conventions itself. My eyes met Kill Joy¡¯s, and I gestured towards the chest, asking, ¡°What... What is that?¡± A raised eyebrow told me I definitely hadn¡¯t asked the right question, so I quickly rephrased. ¡°Why is something like this here? There¡¯s no way this was designed by an actual server owner. This is your doing, isn¡¯t it?¡± A faux hurt look crossed Kill Joy¡¯s face before he floated out of the wall, coming to a halt right above the treasure chest. ¡°You would once again be correct, girl,¡± he said with an amused smile. ¡°As for your question... Consider it a reward for veering off the beaten path. Go ahead, open it.¡± I would be remiss to say I fully trusted Kill Joy, but I had to remind myself that he was not someone to lie. He truly meant it as a reward, even if his words could be misconstrued into all manner of horrible outcomes for me. That said, this was all still within the SPG-01 shard, so it was unlikely that any real harm could come to me as a result of whatever occurred in this faux Cyberspace. Cautiously, I stepped up to the chest and took a closer look. It was ornately decorated, with intricate carvings and golden accents, almost too clich¨¦ to be real. The lock was a simple mechanism, not requiring any quick-hacks or special tools to open. ¡°Alright, here goes nothing, I guess,¡± I muttered, reaching for the lock. With a soft click, it opened, and I lifted the lid. Inside the chest, nestled in a bed of velvet, was a shimmering data shard. It pulsed with a soft, blue light, casting ethereal patterns on the walls of the small room. It was beautiful, almost mesmerising in its glow. Picking it up, I took a closer look to figure out what it might entail. As if prompted, my cerebral link read out the digital signature of the shard and provided the list of contents to me with its usual interface.
[==Rare Data-Shard Contents==] [Subroutine: Personal Shield] [Subroutine: Data-Blade] [Subroutine: Spark]
My eyes widened at that, but I managed to school my excitement rather quickly. ¡°Are those¡­ full Subroutines? Like, I can take them with me outside the confines of this tutorial?¡± I asked hesitantly, somewhat afraid Kill Joy would say no. Having access to these Subroutines would be a tremendous advantage when starting in the world of netrunning. Not only could I use them at my leisure, but since they were full-on Subroutines and not simply blips, I would be able to break them apart and study their composite code to figure out how to write my own Subroutine-based Quick-Hacks. These three were essentially the bread and butter for low-level netrunners. [Data-Blade] provided a solid option for fighting daemons or other netrunners in close range, while [Spark] did the same at longer ranges. [Personal Shield] wasn¡¯t something I was familiar with, but if it functioned like [Shield] with a more short-range or single-target focus, it would be equally, if not more, valuable for pretty much all of my future netrunning endeavours as well. ¡°Naturally,¡± Kill Joy declared with a simple wave of his hand, and for once, he truly felt as magnanimous as he always claimed to be. My excitement and smile froze immediately, however, as he continued. ¡°Although... I cannot simply offer this to you just for veering off the beaten path. Consider it a lease for now. But I am not known as a liar, so you shall get to keep them as a reward if you manage to clear the rest of the session without my intervention. If you can get your hands on the data-vault and extract the data inside from this server, then you can keep the Subroutines you have just found. Otherwise... We¡¯ll just pretend they were blips after all. I¡¯m sure a clever girl like you will understand that I can¡¯t simply give these out for nothing, yes?¡± A spark of annoyance and anger flared inside me at the thought that such a tremendously expensive tutorial might withhold rewards, but my Ego Attribute quickly helped to douse those embers. At the end of the day, I hadn¡¯t even been aware that the SPG-01 shard could give permanent benefits beyond Skill levels and Perks. So this was more of a welcome surprise than a problematic occurrence, all things considered. No matter what, having the possibility to get such a massive boon for the start of my netrunning career was completely unexpected yet very welcome. I just had to make sure I didn¡¯t screw it all up now. ¡°That sounds fair,¡± I replied, actually feeling like it was, strangely enough. I took one last look around the room, checking for any potential exits or hidden treasures I might have missed. Satisfied there was nothing else of interest, I turned and headed back towards the door to the locker room. Just as I reached it, I stopped dead in my tracks. Peering through the tiny window in the door, I saw the slime-type daemon standing about five metres in front of it, back at its original position from before my distractions had pulled it away. ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°It seems that somebody didn¡¯t pay any heed to the potential dangers of their reckless actions, huh?¡± Kill Joy¡¯s smug voice wafted over from the other side of the room. ¡°Oh my, whatever will you do now, girl¡­?¡± Deciding to entirely ignore the annoying golden man, I checked my options. I could try to rush out and run away from the daemon, hoping it was slower than me in this part of Cyberspace¡ªan unlikely scenario, considering this was its home turf. Alternatively, I could try sneaking by, but with it being literally just a few metres away, and the fact that I¡¯d have to open the door first, which it would almost definitely catch, there was practically no chance I¡¯d be able to sneak past it. Then there was the ever-present option of emergency exiting from the server itself, which would put me right in front of the main entrance to the server. It was essentially like closing a browser window but would invalidate all the progress I had made so far. Considering I was down to the last three uses of the subroutine blip that Kill Joy had offered for this part of the tutorial, there was a very low chance I could finish it if I went back to square one. ¡°I guess I have no other choice then,¡± I sighed heavily, before slotting in the rare data-shard and loading the subroutines into memory, after making sure it hadn¡¯t come with any of Kill Joy¡¯s typical surprises. Since I wasn¡¯t actually using my deck¡ªthe one I had recently acquired from Misha, as I hadn¡¯t planned to go on such an exhaustive Cyberspace deep-dive¡ªI couldn¡¯t simply load them into the deck and call it a day. I¡¯d have to keep the data-shard inserted for the entire duration I planned to use the quick-hacks from it. That also meant I couldn¡¯t use Kill Joy¡¯s blip either, as long as I wanted to use them. My basic cerebral link didn¡¯t come with a massive amount of storage space, after all. I also ran the risk of potentially damaging the data-shard if the daemon managed to corrupt the data near my avatar¡¯s neck-slot. It was a risk I really didn¡¯t want to take but was seemingly forced into by Kill Joy¡¯s machinations. There was no doubt in my mind that he had orchestrated this whole section, purposefully granting me a very limited amount of uses on the blips and very specific use-cases to put me in this spot. As if to confirm my suspicions, Kill Joy¡¯s voice appeared right next to me as his face manifested out of the nearby wall. ¡°I see you are preparing to face the daemon, girl,¡± he said, a smug smile plastered on his golden face. With a mocking tone, he bellowed, ¡°Sally forth now, valiant knight! May thou vanquish the horrible beast standing in thine way!¡± Internally, I was screaming. Kill Joy had rapidly gone from being one of my favourite characters to one of my most hated ones over the past few days, especially the past few hours. In the game, you never really had to interact with him for long periods, which I now realised was a godsend, as his personality and demeanour were downright abrasive. Trying my best to ignore the golden avatar of Kill Joy, I focused on the mission at hand: Facing a daemon in direct combat. Combat in Cyberspace was a strange beast. It was a blend of real life and unique Cyberspace rules. A sword in Cyberspace could be used to cut through data and corrupt it, just like it could be used in real life to cut through a person. A gun wielded in Cyberspace could similarly shoot data-shredding bullets or corrupt bits of code that held the integrity of another person or daemon together. Then there were quick-hack ¡°Fireballs,¡± which were more like straight-up magic in fantasy RPGs than anything one might have expected from this world. At the moment, however, I only had access to two forms of attack: [Data-Blade] and [Spark]. Realising there was no point stalling, I called upon the [Data-Blade] Subroutine Quick-Hack. Immediately, a golden shortsword appeared in my right hand. Absently nodding to myself, confirming that [Data-Blade] worked exactly as I had expected, I pulled up [Personal Shield] next. [Spark] wouldn¡¯t be something I could pre-cast, as it was more like a traditional quick-hack that fired off immediately at the target I aimed it towards. Calling up [Personal Shield], I wasn¡¯t quite sure what to expect, but when a kite shield formed on my left arm, I couldn¡¯t help but groan. ¡®So that¡¯s what he meant by ¡°valiant knight¡± just now¡­¡¯ My equipment really did make me look like some strange golden knight, at least when it came to my weapon and shield. The [Shield] quick-hack was quite different, so I hadn¡¯t exactly expected this; it generally conjured a movable plane in front of your target, allowing you to cover not only yourself but others as well, if required. But Kill Joy¡¯s rewards seemed more focused on personal, one-on-one options¡ªplus his strange obsession with knights. Just as I was about to leave and face the slime-type daemon, I couldn¡¯t help but roll my eyes when I caught the reflection of the shield in the door¡¯s glass window. In the centre of the shield, where the crest had usually been placed in mediaeval times, was the face of a smugly smiling Kill Joy¡­ Chapter 72 - Cyberspace Foray V Carefully pushing open the door leading into the locker room, I tried my best to remain as quiet as possible. While I was equipped for a fight, I¡¯d much rather get out of here without risking myself. Plus, getting stuck between the daemon and the door behind me was a surefire way to limit my options if it came to dodging. I kept my eyes locked on the daemon the entire time, even as I nearly stumbled when my left foot got caught on a nearby bench, almost causing me to fall and blow my stealth attempt entirely. The daemon had easily heard and seen the lockers open all the way down the room when I first goaded it into action, so I knew its senses weren¡¯t bad. Yet, it hadn¡¯t reacted to my presence whatsoever despite my near-miss. ¡®I guess it¡¯s more of a cone-shaped sensor,¡¯ I thought to myself as I carefully continued towards the daemon. ¡®If it were radial in nature, there¡¯s no way it wouldn¡¯t have heard or seen me by now¡­ Lucky me.¡¯ Although the daemon was only about five metres away from the door, it felt like an eternity as I slowly approached, shield and sword in hand. By the time I was next to it, ready to swing, I felt cold beads of digital sweat running down my neck. Without wasting any more time, not wanting to risk the daemon abruptly turning or anything of the sort, I swung the [Data-Blade] at the daemon¡¯s centre of mass. There was a strange tearing sound when the blade connected with the daemon¡¯s back, like someone was ripping apart a whole bunch of cardboard, mixed with a strange digital vibrance added to it. I watched in a mix of elation and awe as the [Data-Blade]¡¯s golden hue sank into the daemon¡¯s unnatural black and red body, slicing through it cleanly and splitting the code in twain. The strangest part of the whole experience was that the daemon itself was dead fucking silent. I had braced myself for a scream, a screech, or even just another strange noise like the one from the instant the blade had started cutting, but instead, I was met with an uncanny, eerie silence as the blade continued its path through the daemon¡¯s body unhindered; as if it didn¡¯t even realise anything was happening at all. I realised I had definitely over-committed with the strike when the blade finished its cut and started trying to rip apart the solid code structures that made up the floor of the locker room. This unbalanced me, and I lost my footing, stumbling forward slightly. I regained my balance just in time to see one of the slime¡¯s tentacles racing towards my face. Instinctively, I held both arms in front of my face, not wanting to get hit. As the tentacle hit the smugly smiling face of Kill Joy on my shield, a small, golden ripple of light sprang into existence, suffusing both the tentacle and my body, along with the code structures around us. Peering out from behind the shield, only now remembering that I had it and that it was likely the only thing that had actually kept the tentacle at bay, instead of my stupid and meagre attempt at shielding my face with my arms, my eyes went wide. Where I had cut the slime-type daemon in two, thinking that going for the centre of mass was the most likely way to success¡ªas I was effectively trying to rip the code-base of the daemon apart enough for it to be unable to function¡ªI had inadvertently played right into the daemon¡¯s hands. ¡®Of course it simply split... It¡¯s a slime, Sera! What the fuck did you think was going to happen when you cut it in half?! Is this your first time ever seeing a slime or what?!¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but internally lament the stupidity of my actions. While, technically, this was in-fact the first time I had ever seen a slime in real life, it wasn¡¯t exactly what the furious part inside of me had asked. There was practically no slime-based enemy in existence that simply died when cut in two, so why should a daemon designed like one? I needed to think quickly. The daemon¡¯s split forms were now writhing and reconfiguring themselves, preparing for another attack. Unfortunately I had clearly been too busy lamenting my own stupidity than to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable attack. When two tentacles, one from each slime, came at me simultaneously, I realised just how deep in trouble I really was. Unapologetically panicking, I swung wildly in front of me with the golden short-sword in one hand while covering my face and upper body as best I could with the shield in the other. I somehow managed to get either my sword or the shield in front of the myriad tentacles swarming in to attack me, but I knew it was more luck than actual intent that saved me from their initial retorts. The [Data-Blade] cut through tentacles of unnatural red and black, the golden hue of the blade slicing cleanly through their corrupted code. Each severed tentacle writhed and disintegrated into digital fragments as they hit the floor, but my satisfaction at this small victory was decidedly short-lived. Almost instantly, a new tentacle swung at me from a different angle, and much to my dismay, I saw that the slimes started forming replacements, small nubs on their bodies rapidly starting to grow out into fully fledged appendages, voiding my frantic efforts to not get overwhelmed. I kept slicing with the sword, each swing connecting, severing tentacles that dissolved into fragments, but the onslaught of the daemons simply did not stop or abade whatsoever. The daemons were relentless, and for every tentacle I cut down, another one took its place. I had barely any time to think, more working on instinct, following my Intuition to try and adjust the unwieldy shield to incoming attacks, while more-or-less blindly swinging the sword as best I could. The only thing I was consciously thankful for, was that the slimes seemed to be unable to use more than one appendage at a time; a blessing that was likely the only reason I hadn¡¯t gotten immediately ripped to shreds. My arms were starting to ache rapidly from the constant defence and attack, and my breath was coming heavy and quick. While I was far from unathletic, considering my Body of 5, I had absolutely no idea how to wield a shield or a sword¡ªsomething that was rapidly proving to be a massive issue in this particular encounter. Intellectually, I of course knew that I wasn¡¯t exactly exerting physical effort, as I was simply lying on my bed in the real world, but that didn¡¯t matter all too much, as the mental exhaustion from trying to have my avatar survive this ordeal took just as much of a toll. When I started to feel the back of my neck also get to an almost uncomfortable level of heat, I knew that I had to hunker down and actually come up with a plan. In a battle of attrition like this, I had no chance of winning against the daemons. The [Personal Shield] held strong, absorbing the brunt of their strikes, but the sheer force of the attacks was also pushing me back towards the door, inch by inch, in addition to spiking the heat at the back of my neck momentarily. Another tentacle swung at my legs, and I barely managed to block it with my shield, the impact sending a jolt up my arm while my neck briefly screamed of a light burn. Two more came at my sides, and I twisted, the [Data-Blade] cutting through one while the shield deflected the other, once again sending a jolt of pain into my neck. But they kept coming regardless, a relentless wave of unnatural red and black corruption. I gritted my teeth, trying to focus on the rhythm of their attacks, hoping to find an opening; anything to get me out of this situation without burning my neural link. ¡®I have to reach their cores; that¡¯s how you kill slimes. Everyone knows that¡­ But how?!¡¯ I thought, desperately side-stepping another swing and slicing through an incoming appendage at the same time. ¡®Think, Sera! You¡¯ve killed tens of thousands of slimes before!¡¯ My back abruptly hit the door behind me as I stepped back from another tentacle that I couldn¡¯t dodge. I knew it was do-or-die. I had never been a fighter, always more of a bystander in these sorts of things. Bullies in locker rooms, pushing the nerdy kid into one and locking them in. I was the kind of girl to just stand at the opposite end of the hallway, ruefully look in their direction, then head off to the next class. Now I was the nerdy kid, with no idea how to fight back, being bullied in the locker room with nobody to help. One could call it irony, karma, or whatever else you might believe in, but the whole poetry of it all definitely wasn¡¯t lost on me. Sure, they were daemons instead of bullies, but at the end of the day, what was really the difference? They were both destructive and wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer or react favourably to diplomatic attempts. There was only one thing that I knew would stop a bully: Punching them in the mouth, as hard as you could. Taking as deep a breath as I could manage, my digital avatar thoroughly exhausted and my mental energy reaching its limits, I focused on the slime to my right. Waiting for the right moment, just after deflecting another attack from the left slime, I abruptly stepped towards the one on the right. I angled my shield to the left to keep the other slime busy punching it, while I swung at the right''s bundle of appendages. Once, twice, thrice¡ªI swung again and again, hoping to clear them faster than they could regrow, with no real technique behind it. By the time the fourth tentacle evaporated into digital ash, I saw with a hint of elation that the nubs were unable to keep up with the speed at which I was taking out the newly grown tentacles. That elation was thoroughly short-lived. An indescribable pain wrecked through my body as a tentacle from the left slime managed to slip past my shield and slapped right into the left side of my stomach. I screamed a hoarse cry of pain as I felt the corruption forcibly inject itself into my code and latch onto it, overwhelming the ICE inside my neural-link in an instant thanks to the physical connection between us in Cyberspace. My vision went white for an instant as the daemon¡¯s maliciously corrupting code ripped out chunks of my avatar¡ªthe digital representation of my very mind¡ªreplacing it with parts of itself The pain was unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt. It was as if a hot poker had been thrust into my gut, only for it to expand and tear apart everything in its way, searing and tearing at my very essence. My nerves felt like they were on fire, each synapse overloaded with the invasive, corrupting data. The corruption burrowed deeper, rapidly clawing through my code and spreading more of itself with a relentless, agonising efficiency. Desperation fueled my next move. I swung the [Data-Blade] wildly at the appendage, severing it and stopping the daemon from injecting more destructive code into me. The tentacle dissolved into corrupted fragments, but the damage had been done. Panting heavily, I staggered back, once again with my back to the door, trying to regain my composure. My avatar¡¯s form flickered, the corrupted areas struggling to stabilise, as black and red, molten code kept pouring out of my body. The pain was still there, a dull, throbbing ache that refused to fade, but I had to push through it. The combination of my unpleasant experiences with Valeria¡¯s ¡°teaching methods¡± and my Ego Attribute working overtime was the only thing keeping me sane at this stage. For all the pain and strangeness I was feeling as a result of my mind being attacked by a daemon, it was nowhere near as bad as being exposed to the NeuroCorpse for an entire night. Figuring there was no point in holding anything back anymore, especially since I was probably close to tripping Kill Joy¡¯s failsafe if the pain was any indication, I stepped back up towards the right slime. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Pointing my open palm at the slime on the left, I mentally commanded the shard inside my neck-slot to activate, calling upon the [Spark] quick-hack. Immediately, I felt a searing pain in the back of my neck as the quick-hack activated, but I ignored it for now. A golden flame shot out of my hand, punching into the slime¡¯s body and burning away parts of it. The creature writhed and slithered like a blinded animal trying to retreat from a predator. With the other slime momentarily incapacitated, I put my full attention on the one in front of me, hacking away at it one appendage at a time. Quickly, I carved my way through the forest of tentacles and finally found the opening I had so desperately struggled to achieve. With a quick stab and a pleading prayer to the Cyberspace gods, I lunged at the slime¡¯s core, aiming for the small, exclusively red orb near the top. When the [Data-Blade] connected, there was a moment of resistance as the daemon¡¯s ICE attempted to fight against the malicious code being injected. It was only an instant, but to me, it felt like an eternity. I feared the sword wouldn¡¯t be able to do the trick. But then, finally, the core split and dissolved into millions of code strips that were carried away by an ethereal, non-existent wind. With the core gone, the rest of the slime slumped over immediately and started turning to digital ash on the locker-room floor. Without wasting any time, I turned towards the second slime and started working towards the same goal. The small flame of [Spark] had already been dealt with by the daemon at this stage and it was slowly recovering as I looked at it. It didn¡¯t take long¡ªnow that I only had to face a single slime¡ªbefore my sword managed to pierce right through its core, resulting in a second pile of ash mere moments after the first. Thoroughly exhausted, I slumped against a group of lockers behind me, breathing heavily and quickly. I dismissed both [Data-Blade] and [Personal Shield] for now, as the heat at the back of my neck had become thoroughly painful. I silently hoped that I hadn¡¯t overdone it, but I secretly already knew there would be some consequences to my poor Heat management¡ªpain like this could not possibly be intended. ¡°You know,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s sudden appearance and voice startled me, almost making me jump to my feet, but I ended up clutching the left side of my stomach in agony at the sudden movement instead. ¡°I was this close to pulling you out, girl. But I figured you had it under control. And lo and behold, you did! Wouldn¡¯t be the first time I was right about something now, would it? Hehehe.¡± The golden avatar¡¯s annoying laugh echoed through the empty locker room as I tried my best to stay lucid despite my exhaustion and pain¡ªI still had a data-vault to breach, after all. ¡°How do... fix this?¡± I struggled to ask, each word coming out in pained bursts, as I looked up at Kill Joy and vaguely gestured towards my side. ¡°There¡¯s a few different types of daemons, you see. Some cut, some destroy, some corrupt. These slime ones,¡± he nodded towards the piles of ash on the floor, ¡°they corrupt. So parts of your avatar¡¯s code have been thoroughly perverted and changed into irreparable code snippets. They¡¯re not part of your mental construct anymore, so they can¡¯t be regenerated.¡± Just before I could succumb to exasperation at my own terrible plays, I saw his pointed look¡ªthe one that screamed, ¡°I have just given you a hint, girl.¡± It was the same look he always liked to give me as a subtle nod that there was a test presented to me. Not a mandatory one, but an optional bid to gain more information, should I manage to extrapolate from his words. It was Kill Joy¡¯s way of separating the wheat from the chaff, as far as I could tell. After all, anyone with the requisite Credits could get the SPG-01 shard and learn something about Netrunning. But only those who truly engaged with it and understood it to a degree that allowed them to extrapolate from Kill Joy¡¯s hidden tests would actually gain the full breadth of knowledge from the shard. I wasn¡¯t quite sure whether it was my lucidity slipping, my recent experiences in this new world, or maybe just plain madness, but the first thing that came to my mind as I thought about a solution was to cut out the infected area. ¡®That... can¡¯t be it, right?¡¯ I wondered as I looked over at Kill Joy¡¯s leisurely floating form. ¡®Can I cut out parts of my own mental construct? Is that even a thing?¡¯ Somehow, this plan made the most sense to me at the time. It was like having a thoroughly infected part of your body, threatening to kill you. Amputation was the most likely path to success in those instances, so why shouldn¡¯t it work for daemonic corruption? Mentally pulling at the data-shard inside my neck, I conjured another [Data-Blade], which caught Kill Joy¡¯s attention. A subtle smile was the only indication I received from him that I might be on the right track¡ªor maybe he just enjoyed watching me suffer. Carefully, I turned the golden short-sword on myself and only now realised that the ¡°blade¡± itself had a cascading flow of golden code rippling through it. It was thoroughly mesmerising, but a renewed pang of searing pain from my abdomen rapidly got me back on track. Taking a deep breath and clenching my teeth, I sliced into my own avatar. I had expected pain, but the result of my action was something beyond that. When the tentacles had hit me and started corrupting my mental construct, it had felt like a burning poker had been inserted into my stomach, before it rapidly expanded. The golden sword of the [Data-Blade], however, was not corruption. It was destruction. The parts where the sword touched my mental construct simply ceased to exist, evaporating with a forceful, spiteful pain that almost made me pass out and drop the quick-hack altogether. Only my Ego Attribute supporting my endeavours towards my goal¡ªremoving the corruption¡ªmanaged to keep me together and on track. I blindly cut, ripped, and tore at my own digital body, tears of unadulterated agony streaming down my face as I removed the red and black corruption wherever I found it. Guided mostly by the strange burning sensation of pain that managed to pierce through the [Data-Blade]¡¯s destruction, I hacked away at my mental construct. I had probably screamed myself hoarse, or maybe I didn¡¯t scream at all¡ªI had no idea. Each cut brought a mix of relief and agony. The corruption was being removed, but at the cost of large chunks of my own code. It felt like tearing off pieces of my own soul, leaving raw, gaping holes in my avatar. But the alternative was far worse. Leaving corrupted code inside my avatar would make it impossible to finish this tutorial, no matter how much I wanted to believe I could do it¡ªand I was certain there were no retries for special rewards like the shard inside my neck. I had barely been able to stand with the gaping hole of corruption in my side, much less move around. There was still at least one more hallway to clear and a potential run-in with the netrunner who owned this place. Going into that without being as close to 100% as possible was not an option. I had no concept of time or how far I was into the operation. All I could think of was the pain and wanting it to end. The intensity had now surpassed the level of the NeuroCorpse treatment, but I held onto the vague promise that once the corruption was removed, the pain would stop. The hope that my suffering was not for nothing kept me going. Finally, as the last dregs of corruption were excised and the burning sensations within my body ceased entirely, I let go of the shortsword and slumped to the ground, panting heavily. The quick-hack disintegrated immediately, losing cohesion from lack of intent. To my immense relief, the pain subsided moderately quickly as the digital construct that was my avatar started regenerating the parts that the [Data-Blade] had destroyed. It felt like a gentle, cold compress being applied to my beaten and battered body, the coolness spreading from the surrounding tissue into the open nothing that was the hole I had carved inside my avatar. I simply breathed and let the rules of Cyberspace work their magic, repairing my mental construct with no conscious effort on my part. ¡°You know,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s voice droned through the locker room with a hint of sadistic joy in it, ¡°you didn¡¯t have to be so reckless. The [Data-Blade] is destruction, while the daemon¡¯s damage is corruption. You could have simply applied the blade to the corrupted code from the outside, like cauterization, in a way. You really didn¡¯t have to go at it like a mad butcher, girl. Have some more decorum, tut tut.¡± I remained silent at that, simply filing it away as a better option for the future. There was nothing I could do to the digital version of Kill Joy, even though I seriously wanted to strangle him right now, and I was fresh out of energy and grit to yell at him. Instead, I spent the next few minutes, as I waited for my avatar to fully repair itself, reflecting on the fight. I had made some serious mistakes, and I desperately needed to learn from them for the future. This was all a tutorial, after all. And those were meant to teach. First and foremost: Heat management. The [Data-Blade] had proven to be vastly less heat-intensive than the [Personal Shield], which made a lot of sense in hindsight. Each time I cut something, I was just injecting a destructive piece of code into the specific data structure connected to the sword. The [Personal Shield], on the other hand, was a generalised defensive structure. It had to deflect all different types of daemon attacks and quick-hacks, creating a massive amount of Heat with each impact. The quick-hack that governed the shield was vastly more complex than the one governing the sword. ¡®In the future, I definitely need to rely more on movement. Dodging attacks instead of letting them hit the shield would cost me practically nothing,¡¯ I mused, noting it down as an avenue to explore more. ¡®Maybe I can ask Kenzie to spar with me and primarily focus on dodging¡­ Her attacks are way faster than the slime¡¯s were, so it should be a decent start.¡¯ The second mistake I needed to address was my decision-making, especially regarding how I had approached the initial daemon. I had the drop on it, with a free attack to boot, yet all I managed to do was create more trouble for myself because I didn¡¯t think about the enemy I was facing. If I had thought about the type of daemon in more detail ahead of time and aimed for the core, there was a decent chance I could have killed it before it even knew I was there with my alpha strike. Most daemons were based on creatures of fantasy, myth, and legend, as creating thoroughly unique ones was exceedingly difficult and time-intensive. Reading up on those that had lore in this world, would be something to seriously consider going forward. Even without reading up on any, however, my decades of gaming experience should come in handy with the most relevant tropes for the lower-level ones, at the very least. Slimes, imps, and similar creatures were, after all, a staple of all kinds of RPGs. Finding their weak spots and understanding how they were likely to function by comparing them to the knowledge I already had would likely save me from similar situations in the future. The last thing I had on my agenda before scraping myself off the floor was quite different in nature. When the daemon had died¡ªboth parts of it¡ªI had received a series of chimes from the System, but one in particular stood out. It was a sound I had never heard before. Pulling up the System Notifications, I scrolled through the list until I found something new.
[System]: Daemon (Slime) drops 1x (Uncommon) Data-Shard [First-Kill Drop Chance Bonus]
I stared at the notification for around a minute, trying to parse what it was trying to tell me, until my brain finally started to work. ¡®Wait¡­ ¡°drop¡±? Like loot?¡¯ I thought, confusion spreading through my mind like wildfire. How could there be loot drops? This was the real world; things didn¡¯t just randomly drop loot when you killed them. I slowly made my way over towards the piles of ash and started digging, trusting the System¡¯s Notifications despite my doubts. The right pile was empty, but when I approached the left pile, I didn¡¯t even have to dig. Above the mound of ash, only now visible when I was right in front of it, hovered a small, green data-shard. ¡°What the fuck¡­¡± I quietly voiced as I simply stared at the shard. Neon Dragons was an RPG, so it only made sense for there to be loot in the game. But, as mentioned before, this wasn¡¯t a game any longer. My mind was struggling to make sense of what I was seeing, as I failed to understand how loot could possibly work in this world. It wasn¡¯t like the slime had simply eaten the data-shard and it just happened to be inside it when I killed it. This was clearly some sort of outside power putting a straight-up loot drop on top of the enemy¡¯s corpse¡ªit was even hovering in mid-air! Reaching out to it, I stopped just short of the shard; a sudden thought hitting me. ¡°Mr. Joy, can you tell me what this is?¡± I directed my question at the golden teacher, who lazily floated closer to take a look. He momentarily looked interested, then confused, and finally irritated, before answering, ¡°What are you referring to? The slime¡¯s code pile? Or the empty shard in your hand?¡± I quickly looked back at my hand, but there was no shard. It was still hovering just slightly before it. ¡®He said ¡°empty¡±... Is he not able to perceive the drop, or is there really nothing in it? It says (uncommon) at the very least, so there should be something in it, right?¡¯ I mused as I grabbed the shard. Swapping it for the Rare Subroutine shard and loading it into the safety compartment to check the contents, I got the answer to my question quickly: He really couldn¡¯t properly perceive it.
[System]: Decrypting (Uncommon) Data-Shard¡­ Success! Loot gained from Data-Shard needs to be claimed to be transferred. [==Uncommon Data-Shard #024 Contents==] [1x Hypercoagulin Injector] [{c}33 Credits] [System]: Loot from [Data-Shard #024] cannot be claimed while inside Cyberspace.
I had to sit down on the nearest bench. The implications of the three System screens in front of me were far too significant for me to keep standing upright. Not only was loot somehow a thing, but it was clearly somewhat randomised. After all, the shard I had received didn¡¯t end up actually being useful for Cyberspace or Netrunning at all, even though I had gained it from exactly that source. Furthermore, and likely even more important, the last screen implied that I would somehow be able to keep the loot shard I had just gained and claim everything inside it once I left the faux-Cyberspace I was currently in¡­ Chapter 73 - Cyberspace Foray VI Taking a few deep breaths to calm my racing thoughts, I swapped out the data-shard for the last remaining blip. ¡®Gotta get a move on,¡¯ I reminded myself. ¡®Killing that daemon will definitely have caused some more obvious spikes in the server¡¯s operations; it¡¯s only a matter of time until the netrunner overseeing this thing realises that I¡¯m here. I can worry about the loot and the implications later.¡¯ By now, my avatar had mostly repaired itself, and breathing, as well as moving in general, had become a lot more manageable. Getting up from the bench, I quickly made my way back to the door that had originally led me into the locker room. I peeked through the small window to see if anything had changed in the hallway with the scanner. Much to my elation, it looked exactly the same as before. I left the locker room behind and passed the scanner, double-checking with Kill Joy that it would still allow me to pass. According to him, most scanners would continue to recognize me as long as they didn¡¯t have a specific cycle built-in or weren¡¯t manually reset by the owner. The specific blip I had used to bypass this scanner had effectively written me into the ¡°allowed users¡± list, so to speak. It was definitely something to keep in mind for the future, however, as I was unlikely to get my hands on a similarly expansive and powerful quick-hack anytime soon. If I had used a simple, run-of-the-mill ¡°Open¡± quick-hack, I probably would have had to use one again to pass the scanner. Just another example of Kill Joy¡¯s expertise in netrunning and the sheer difference it made. I followed down the right path of the t-intersection now, the last area inside the server I hadn¡¯t checked yet and the one that seemed like it belonged to the main path designed for it, until I got to the corner at the end of the hallway. Letting my [Stealth] Skill lead my actions, I pressed myself against the edge and carefully listened for any obvious signs that there might be something waiting for me. After confirming that there were no strange, unexpected noises, I carefully started to look past the corner, not wanting to accidentally get caught by something as simple as a camera or the like. I was greeted by a short hallway with a security door at the other end. The hallway was seemingly clear¡ªno cameras or scanners in sight¡ªbut I knew better than to let my guard down; nothing prevented a server owner from creating hidden traps, after all. The security door looked quite formidable, however, with reinforced plasteel and a sleek, high-tech design¡ªit even came with the whole neon-lighting accents around the corners! It also had a keypad on the side, glowing faintly with a soft blue light, clearly meant to serve as the access point. The numbers were backlit, and a small screen above the keypad displayed the words "Access Restricted" in bold, red letters. Knowing I was on borrowed time, considering the noise I had made fighting the daemon and its destruction afterward, I quickly, yet as stealthily as I could, moved over to inspect the door and keypad. I wondered if a simple subroutine "Open" quick-hack would be able to bypass the security. ¡®Kill Joy''s blip will almost certainly do the trick, but if I didn''t have access to it, would I still be able to get through here¡­? I won¡¯t exactly be able to rely on them pretty much ever, outside of this tutorial session.¡¯ Directing my question at the golden avatar of Kill Joy himself, the world around us abruptly froze; as if time itself had stopped moving. My eyes widened in a bit of panic, but before I could even consider my next move, Kill Joy held up both of his hands disarmingly and explained, "I''ve stopped the simulation to explain this part a little bit more in-depth, girl. No need to panic. You¡¯re on the clock, and I didn¡¯t want to let your time run down like this." I nodded hesitantly, appreciating the gesture despite my general level of annoyance with him¡ªthis was surprisingly fair and reasonable of him to do; not something I had really expected. ¡°Alright, so what¡¯s the deal with this door? If I didn¡¯t have one of your blips, how would I possibly know how to bypass it? I can¡¯t exactly carry around half a dozen quick-hacks that try to deal with individual keypads, biometric scanners, or whatever else the server owners might have come up with to validate access. And I doubt normal ¡®Open¡¯ quick-hacks could handle the sheer complexity of it all, if they aren¡¯t made by you.¡± Kill Joy floated closer, examining the keypad with a discerning eye, while nodding sagely to himself. ¡°Yes, yes. You are correct, girl. Your run-of-the-mill quick-hacks are nowhere near as elaborately designed and carefully programmed as mine are; that¡¯s a given. But you are not entirely out of options either, should you run into such a fortified position¡ªmind you, there won¡¯t be many of those in any given server, as they are very costly to implement and maintain, but you will almost always run into at least one or two of them.¡± He paused, letting the information sink in. ¡°Without any of my quick-hacks¡ªor even inferior versions that could still do the trick¡ªyou¡¯ll have to do some on-the-fly adjustments to the ones available to you. This is one of the major skills any new netrunner has to learn and that truly sets apart the blanks from the masters, girl.¡± I let out a sigh, partly out of frustration and partly to steady myself. "Okay, so let''s say I don''t have one of your fancy blips. How would I even begin to adjust a basic quick-hack to get through this kind of security?" ¡°Not quite,¡± Kill Joy confirmed somewhat. ¡°Let¡¯s have you take a closer look at the door and the keypad; maybe you can figure something out yourself, girl. Try touching them; don¡¯t worry, they won¡¯t bite.¡± Hesitating for only a moment, figuring that Kill Joy wouldn¡¯t randomly break his streak of no-lies that he had kept up since the first moment we met, I touched the door, feeling its cold, unyielding structure. I wasn¡¯t sure what exactly he wanted me to look for, but I tried my best not to miss anything, going as far as to even get down on my knees to try and see under it¡ªto no avail. With a bit of frustration starting to bubble up, as I continued to be unable to see anything that would explain Kill Joy¡¯s recommendation, I went to the keypad and did the same thing. I touched it, looked at it, and even smelled it¡ªit smelled like absolutely nothing, to nobody¡¯s surprise¡ªbut the great epiphany that Kill Joy seemed to want from me was nowhere to be found. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t get what I¡¯m looking for, Mr. Joy. How would this help me figure out how to adjust my quick-hacks?¡± I hesitantly asked, bracing myself for the inevitable mockery ahead of time. Kill Joy chuckled, floating closer. ¡°Ah, girl, you¡¯re overthinking it¡­ Or maybe not thinking enough? Regardless. The point isn¡¯t what you¡¯re looking for but how you¡¯re looking. It¡¯s about understanding both the physical and digital layers of security. Think about it, girl: This keypad isn¡¯t just a keypad. It¡¯s a part of the whole security system; the whole code that holds together this entire server you¡¯re in. Your quick-hacks need to be just as holistic in design; they need to deal with more than just this single part. You have to understand how these systems are interconnected.¡± I sighed, nodding slowly. ¡°So, I need to think about how the keypad talks to the door, how the door is monitored, and how the system as a whole works together¡­ How do I do that? I can¡¯t exactly rip open the wall and check the wires; that¡¯s bound to trip all kinds of alarms and contingencies, no?¡± I swallowed some choice words as Kill Joy¡¯s smug face floated closer to mine. ¡°That¡¯s where the ¡®how¡¯ comes in, girl. You¡¯re not looking correctly,¡± he said, gesturing toward the door and the keypad. ¡°You¡¯ve only looked at the physical representation of it but haven¡¯t bothered with the digital at all. As I told you: You need both to figure this out.¡± Floating closer to the keypad and positioning himself directly above it, he pointed down towards it. ¡°Touch it again; but this time, look at the digital side of it all; not the physical, girl.¡± I stared at Kill Joy for a few seconds, then breathed out a heavy sigh and followed his directions. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, no matter how hard I tried to make sense of his words. ¡®This is definitely one of those times, like back in school, where the teacher tries to explain something but only delves deeper into the specific words that you didn¡¯t understand in the first place. How does this help anyone?! You can¡¯t just explain the thing that causes confusion with the exact thing that caused it in the first place!¡¯ Touching the keypad again, I tried my best to ¡°look at the digital side.¡± Unblinking, I stared at the keypad as hard as I could, as if that would somehow allow me to see the very code that the keypad was made of. Much to nobody¡¯s surprise; it didn¡¯t work. I tried everything I could think of, from gently placing a finger on it to fully grasping it in both hands and everything in between, all the while Kill Joy simply hovered above me with an ever-increasingly smug and annoying look on his face. I was half-tempted to simply throw the blip quick-hack at it and move on with my life, but if I really wanted to pursue the path of a netrunner in any capacity, I needed to understand and learn how to do what Kill Joy had just explained. I couldn¡¯t afford to just take the easy way out, or I¡¯d be unable to function the moment I met an obstacle I didn¡¯t have the perfect quick-hack for. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a deep breath and tried to calm my mind. ¡®Think, Sera, think. Digital side¡­ digital side¡­ How would I want to be looked at, if I was a keypad¡¯s digital side¡­?¡¯ Opening my eyes again, I tried focusing not on the keypad¡¯s physical form but on what it represented in Cyberspace: A lock and authentication program that required a specific set of inputs to allow access. I spent the next few minutes trying to remember everything I had learned from Kill Joy¡¯s prior lessons about doors, locks, authentication, and authorization, as well as everything I had learned from my [Programming], [Netrunning], and [Quick-Hacks] skills that could be relevant for this scenario. Ultimately, however, I came up short. ¡°I don¡¯t fucking get it,¡± I muttered, leaning against the wall in defeat. No matter what I tried, I couldn¡¯t ¡°see¡± the digital side, as Kill Joy had put it. I had no idea what he wanted from me, and his explanations so far had only served to confuse me more and more. I hadn¡¯t exactly been a programmer in my last life, so how was I supposed to just understand how it was designed in code, simply by looking at it? It made no sense, no matter how you tried to cut it. ¡°It seems that you have run into a bit of an issue,¡± Kill Joy¡¯s voice wafted over from above my head, and I tried my best to ignore it. I had just about had it with the smug fucker and his useless explanations. Floating down from the wall and landing in front of me, his eyes met mine, and surprisingly, he didn¡¯t carry his usual smugness in either smirk nor hidden behind his eyes. ¡°It can be frustrating to not understand something, girl. I know all too well how that feels, you know? I wasn¡¯t always the most erudite, magnanimous person in this world. I, too, had to learn a lot of things in my life,¡± he ventured, his voice surprisingly gentle. ¡°Don¡¯t let that frustration hinder your progress. It would be a shame to see someone as talented as you stumble and break at this hurdle. If you have questions, ask them. This whole simulation is meant to teach you, after all. But I cannot answer questions that are left unspoken.¡± I sighed deeply, looking at the keypad again. He was right, of course, but I didn¡¯t exactly fancy more of his cryptic and useless advice. But at the same time, what other option did I really have? ¡°Alright, fine¡­ How do I ¡®see¡¯ the digital side of this thing, Mr. Joy? I get that there¡¯s more to it than just the physical keypad, but I don¡¯t know how to tap into that. In as simple terms as possible, please?¡± Kill Joy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. ¡°That¡¯s a great question. Think of Cyberspace as a layered reality. By default, you¡¯re currently only seeing the top layer; the physical manifestation. To see the digital layer, you need to interface directly with the things you are trying to detect.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Interface directly? Like... plug into it somehow?¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± he said, his smile widening. ¡°You need to establish a direct link with the keypad. Think of it like using a data-link implant in real life to connect to a server directly. Once you¡¯re connected, you¡¯ll be able to see and manipulate the digital constructs that make up the keypad. It¡¯s essential for figuring out how to adjust your quick-hacks.¡± He gestured towards the keypad once again. ¡°Touch it with any part of your avatar that is uncovered, and try delving into your cerebral interface. It should allow you to see the digital side of whatever you¡¯re touching; the keypad in this case.¡± Feeling a mix of annoyance and relief that he finally decided to give me some usable advice, I followed his directions once more. Stolen story; please report. This time around, it didn¡¯t take long to figure out how to access the digital layer. With my fingers on the keypad¡¯s outer edge, I popped open my cerebral interface and was immediately greeted with a wholly different view than before. Even without opening any apps or looking at any of the myriad notifications that had stacked up over the course of the session today, the keypad my finger was touching had changed completely: It no longer looked like it was made out of a combination of plastic, metal, and rubber. Instead, it was completely made up of cascading, yellow-green lines of code. Focusing on it a little bit more, a window popped up inside my cerebral interface. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out what it was about. ¡°Alright, I think I got it. I can see the code, what now?¡± I asked Kill Joy for further instructions, feeling like a massive weight had just disappeared from my shoulders. My netrunning dreams were no longer in dire jeopardy. ¡°This is where your programming experience comes in,¡± the golden avatar explained uncharacteristically patiently, seemingly recognizing that I was in no mood to humour his usual smugness or cryptic answers. ¡°You need to figure out which aspects govern the actual mechanics of the keypad and ignore the parts that handle the physical looks or usage. Once you¡¯ve done that, find the corresponding entries related to how it authenticates and locks the door so you can bypass it. But don¡¯t bother looking for a password or anything; you won¡¯t find those. Nobody would be stupid enough to put those in plain text within the construct of the lock itself. You¡¯re trying to bypass the authentication or brute-force an entry, instead.¡± He paused, letting that sink in. ¡°Arguably, this is still way above what you should be able to do based on our time spent together so far, so don¡¯t feel too overwhelmed. Just spend a couple of minutes looking through the code; try to learn and understand as much as you can from it. You won¡¯t be able to whip up a full-on quick-hack out of nowhere like this anytime soon.¡± Hearing him say that made me feel a lot calmer. The admission that this was far above my pay grade lifted a lot of self-set expectations. Having the opportunity to simply peruse some of the code without having to focus too hard on getting everything perfectly right was going to be a lot less stressful than the last few minutes had been. Taking a closer look, I tried dissecting the code as best I could as Kill Joy had instructed: Dividing up the parts that made up the physical construct, the visuals, and the functionality, as well as the actual parts that seemed to govern the underlying systems and connections. It was a bit like peeling an onion, layer by layer, each piece revealing more of the keypad''s true nature and how it existed in Cyberspace. I managed to identify the lines of code that dictated the colour of the buttons, the sound they made when pressed, and the slight vibration feedback given to the user. I found the aspects that governed how it looked in Cyberspace, the metal, the rubber and the plastic parts each carefully designed to fit together. Ignoring all the superficial stuff, I honed in on the deeper, more complex lines of code linked to security protocols and access controls. A smile crept onto my face as I slowly started to piece together how the keypad communicated with the door. Each segment of code was like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place, revealing a clearer picture of the security measures in place. Even though I couldn¡¯t fully understand how and why everything worked the way it did¡ªmy meagre three Levels in [Programming] weren¡¯t enough to decipher the full-on Cyberspace integration just yet¡ªI recognized similarities to what I had already learned thanks to the System. The underlying code wasn¡¯t too different from how I would design such a lock and key system; it was just vastly more complicated because of the Cyberspace layer, which required additional hooks, callbacks, and integrations. I had easily spent 15-20 minutes dissecting the code, but it was time to get back to work and finish this session. I still had a long way to go, but at least now I felt like I was on the right path. Closing out of the window, I exited my cerebral interface before turning to Kill Joy. ¡°I¡¯m good to continue now, Mr. Joy.¡± ¡°Very well, girl. I will resume the simulation and let you go on. Do try not to make me regret spending this extra time here with you, would you?¡± And just like that, the seemingly frozen air around us resumed its subtle movements; the lights around the door and keypad oscillated slightly, and Cyberspace felt "right" again. Without wasting any time, I threw one of the last remaining ¡°Open¡± quick-hacks from the subroutine blip at the door. During my brief dive into the code of the keypad earlier, I realised the door was only locked from this side, making it unnecessary to "open" the keypad. Instead, by using the quick-hack on the door, I could skip accessing the keypad altogether. By the time I needed to leave, I could just walk through from the other side, as it wasn¡¯t locked to begin with. The door opened with a quiet swoosh, revealing an expansive server room. The air wafting out was cool and sterile, and a low humming noise permeated through the doorway as I carefully stepped up to take a look. The room was massive, easily twice as large as the locker room where I had fought the daemon, and clearly too large to fit into the office building¡¯s footprint I had observed from the outside. But such was Cyberspace. Restrictions like "laws of physics" or other such minor trifles didn¡¯t really exist as long as you knew how to code the workarounds. Making something bigger on the inside than the outside was one of the easiest tricks in the book, coding-wise. I quietly moved into the room after checking for any cameras, traps, or daemons, once again relying on my [Stealth] Skill to keep my digital footprint as small as possible. Passing by row after row of massive server racks, I had to seriously focus on my objective of finding the data-vault. The sheer amount of high-tech hardware around me was incredibly distracting. ¡®Focus, Sera. This is all just data, made to look like high-tech servers; not actual hardware you can take with you. It doesn¡¯t matter what they actually do, just focus on finding the vault.¡¯ Passing row after row of imposing server racks, I had to force myself to stay focused on my objective: Finding the data-vault. The servers were mesmerising, glowing with vibrant, neon lights and humming with the quiet power of stored information. But I had no time to admire the digital craftsmanship. Every second wasted could mean the Netrunner who owned this place could be realising that their daemon had been taken care of. I kept my movements swift but cautious, sticking close to the shadows where the rows of server racks cast faint silhouettes. My [Stealth] Skill guided my steps, helping me navigate the maze of data without leaving much of a trace. After a few tense minutes, I finally spotted a large terminal against the eastern wall of the room. It looked like an old-school ATM machine, but with a Cyberpunk twist: Sleek black metal with pulsating neon blue accents, a large touchscreen interface, and various ports and slots for data access. It was the only thing that had stood out amidst the uniform server racks so far; so I figured it was my best bet. Approaching it, I noticed too late that the server racks flanking the terminal didn¡¯t match the others I had passed. They were lacking the rhythmic lights and the quiet hum that the rest of the servers had and they were slightly too perfect in their arrangement. The moment I stepped between them, a strange sensation washed over me as a hidden scanner activated, probing my avatar for authorization¡ªand failing to receive it. ¡°Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!¡± I muttered, realising too late that I had walked into a hidden trap. With no time to waste, I quickly threw my last ¡°Open¡± quick-hack at the terminal. The digital line shot out from my neck, connecting with the machine in a flash of grey, before turning green almost immediately; Kill Joy¡¯s coding work once again proving exceedingly proficient. I hammered away at the touchscreen, desperate to find out if this was the data-vault I had been searching for. The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of options and prompts. My fingers flew across the interface, navigating through the different layers and trying to prompt it to release whatever it might hold. With the alarm tripped, it was only a matter of minutes or seconds until the netrunner tasked with keeping everything in order with the server would be showing up. Just when I thought my luck had run out, the terminal finally emitted a soft chime. A perfect cube, roughly 6x6 cm, ejected from a slot at the bottom of the terminal into my hand. I didn''t even need to ask Kill Joy for confirmation; I knew this was it immediately. The sheer density of code crammed into the cube lent it a strange, physical weight in my hands. "Got it," I whispered, clutching the precious data tightly with a triumphant smile. In the next moment, the world spun, and pain exploded from my right side. I was thrown across the room, tumbling a good dozen metres before hitting the ground hard. Parts of my data construct were ground into smudges on the solid server room floor. A groan of pain escaped me, but I knew I had no time to dawdle; even though parts of my body were leaking code at a worrying rate as a result of the missing pieces¡ªdigital skin that had been removed by the painful sliding across the floor. Orienting myself to look back at the terminal I had just been launched away from, I saw the culprit. A humanoid figure emerged from the shadows near the terminal, wearing a featureless mask that gleamed under the dim lights of the server room. The netrunner''s sleek, dark outfit clung to their form, decorated with lines of glowing code that pulsed rhythmically, as if mirroring the beat of a heart¡ªgiven a different situation, I would have definitely loved their style. Panic surged through me, but I couldn''t afford to freeze. Clutching the data cube tightly, I sprang to my feet and darted towards the exit as best I could, limping slightly as each step sent a jolt of pain through my body; the tumble having definitely dislocated or sprained something. The netrunner immediately gave chase, while launching a barrage of quick-hacks in my direction. Sparks of golden light shot past me, manifesting as bursts of electricity that exploded upon impact. I zigzagged through the rows of server racks, narrowly avoiding each attack just barely, by blindly trusting my Intuition to guide my steps. "Move, move, move!" I muttered to myself, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Every muscle in my body screamed as I pushed myself to the limit, ducking and weaving to dodge the incoming fire. The netrunner''s quick-hacks continued to tear through the environment around me, ripping up entire sections of the floor and sending debris flying in all directions, some of which hitting me and leaving painful cuts and bruises as they did. The cacophony of explosions and the hiss of disrupted data filled the air, making it feel like I was running through a literal war zone. My mind raced as I tried to stay ahead of the onslaught. I needed more protection. Slotting the rare data-shard mid-run, I called upon my [Personal Shield] quick-hack. Instantly, the shimmering, golden kite shield, featuring Kill Joy¡¯s smug face, formed on my left arm. A moment later, I barely managed to turn in time to angle the shield to absorb the brunt of the damage from another lightning-fast quick-hack, but the impact sent jolts of pain through my avatar regardless. The netrunner was relentless, their masked visage devoid of any emotion as they closed in on me. I could feel their presence like a cold shadow at my back, their quick-hacks growing even more intense and frequent the closer I got to the hallway I had taken to get inside. A [Spark] exploded to my left, sending a burst of flame up and forcing me to veer right, while another quick-hack, sent out almost at the same time, ripped up the floor just inches from my feet, sending me tumbling to the ground. Instinctively, I managed to roll and keep my momentum, thanks to the muscle memory inherited by my [Acrobatics] Skill. Gritting my teeth despite the mounting pain, I forced myself to keep moving. The security door leading back to the main path and out of the server was just ahead, a beacon of hope in this digital nightmare. With one final burst of speed, I reached the door, slamming into it with the shield, nearly toppling over in my haste. To my immense relief, the door hadn''t been completely closed down by the netrunner yet, and it gave way. I scrambled through the opening, glancing back just long enough to see the masked figure pause, their eyes¡ªif they had any¡ªburning into mine with cold fury. My Intuition screamed of imminent danger, and I immediately threw myself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the massive burst of flame gushing out of the netrunner¡¯s open palm. Hastily stumbling back to my feet, I continued to sprint towards the main path, following the hallways in reverse to get back to the main entrance of the server. Every step was a battle against the pain and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm me. Quick-hacks and [Sparks] flew past me, some grazing my avatar and sending jolts of agony through my body. I kept my shield pointed backwards, trying my best to dodge as many quick-hacks as I could, but the shield was taking an absolute beating. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, the exit feeling like it was always just out of reach. By the time I reached the door to the initial reception room, my neck felt like it was actually on fire. Tears streamed down my face, and my vision had long passed the point of being considered ¡°blurry.¡± Losing strength quickly, I stumbled into the reception room just as another explosion hit my [Personal Shield] hard enough to wink it out of existence. The world flipped and turned as I was thrown across the reception room, hitting one of the pillars and crumpling to the floor next to it. If not for the absolute torrent of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I would have long passed out from the sheer amounts of pain I was in. It wasn¡¯t quite on the level of the NeuroCorpse, but it was far, far beyond anything I had ever experienced aside from that. Trying to push myself up from the floor, recognizing that I couldn¡¯t afford even a second of respite if I wanted to get out of this server alive, my eyes widened in abject horror. I was missing an arm. ¡°Oh no,¡± I muttered, the beginnings of a serious panic attack setting in. ¡°Oh shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck¡­¡± My left arm, the one that had held and directed the [Personal Shield], was completely gone, torn to shreds by the explosion that had ended my quick-hack. With the cube in my right hand, I pushed myself off the ground and stumbled through the broken glass doors of the entrance, another explosion missing me by mere inches and sending me tumbling down the stairs into the garden. ¡®Just keep moving!¡¯ I told myself, desperation the only source of energy left in my body. ¡®Fucking move, Sera! MOVE!¡¯ Once again, I pushed myself up from the ground and kept moving toward the giant gates at the end of the pebblestone walkway. Each step was a battle against the searing pain and the throbbing emptiness where my arm had been. The world around me was a blur of light and noise, and I could feel the netrunner¡¯s presence like a cold shadow closing in. I didn¡¯t dare look back, focusing solely on the gates ahead, my only hope for escape. As long as I could get out of the server, the netrunner wouldn''t be able to follow me easily. I just had to reach the gates, and I''d be safe. The crackling of lightning behind me made my breath catch¡ªI knew there was no way I could dodge yet another quick-hack. I was long out of fumes to run on. I simply kept stumbling and limping my way toward the gates, the last remnants of my mental energy accepting that I had been beaten and waiting for Kill Joy to shut down the simulation and declare it a failure, mere moments away from success. ¡®I really tried,¡¯ I thought ruefully. ¡®If I had just been a tiny bit faster... Just hadn¡¯t missed that stupid hidden scanner...¡¯ As the lightning shot out, my whole body tensed in expectation, but instead of the jolt of pain or the world around me disappearing or freezing entirely, I saw the bolt of lightning impact to my left and right¡ªit had split. Thoroughly confused by what just happened, I wanted to look back, but I knew that if I even attempted to change my heading by the tiniest of fractions, I would simply keel over. ¡°Oh whoopsie. I really shouldn¡¯t be between the simulation and the student. You really should know better than that, considering how much of a genius you are. That is really unprofessional, Kill Joy,¡± I heard the muttered words of the golden avatar from directly behind me. A thoroughly pained, disbelieving smile bloomed on my face at his muttered words. Moments later, I reached the gates and slammed my right shoulder into them. Immediately, the world around me parted; the garden and office building disappeared, replaced by the same street I had originally entered the server from. Pulling up my cerebral interface, I disconnected from Cyberspace with a mere thought. The world collapsed around me, sending me careening through myriads of coloured spaces and lights before I forcefully slammed into a chair inside Kill Joy¡¯s lecturing room. ¡°Well done, girl. You¡¯ve succeeded at extracting the data!¡± Kill Joy¡¯s elated voice inundated my mind, the haziness and pain making it hard to even focus on the words he spoke. ¡°Better get out of here and get that cerebral link cooled down, girl. You¡¯re suffering from some seriously bad burnout. We will talk about all this in your next session!¡± With those words, the SPG-01 shard¡¯s environment collapsed, sending me careening one more time through a series of rooms, lights and impressions until I found myself lying back on the bed inside my room¡­ Chapter 74 - Burnout The smell of seared flesh hung heavy in the air as the world slowly stopped spinning around me. My eyes were unfocused, tears of pain blinding me almost entirely as I tried to roll off my bed. Whimpers, groans, and curses were the only things leaving my mouth as I stumbled my way across the apartment, bouncing off several walls and doorways during my desperate bid for relief. I could still feel the phantom pain of the arm I had lost in Cyberspace, the myriad of injuries I had sustained fighting against both the daemon and the netrunner, and the mental exhaustion that came with it. But nothing hurt as much as the burning piece of metal in my neck. It felt like someone had dropped a red-hot ingot on my spine, the cerebral link aggressively burning through flesh, muscle, and blood from the massive amounts of heat generated by my overuse of the quick-hacks. A whimper of elation left my mouth involuntarily as I made it into the bathroom¡ªjust a few more steps. I turned on the faucet and cranked the lever to the coldest setting before pushing my entire head and upper chest under the rushing water; letting it all cascade down my back. The moment the cold water hit my cerebral link, two things happened. I shuddered from the coldness, goosebumps appearing all over my body and splashing water everywhere like some human-dog hybrid; and the first bouts of water hitting the link vaporised¡ªimmediately turning to steam upon contact with the searing hot piece of metal in my spine. Breathing in sharply from the mix of extreme pain and similarly elating bliss at the momentary relief, I ended up with water trickling down the sides of my face and into my throat, triggering a massive coughing fit as I tried to keep my head submerged. It felt like I was half-waterboarding myself, my lungs screaming for a proper, deep breath while the rest of my body craved the cold water¡¯s embrace to stay sane. At some point, the coughing turned into full-on vomiting as my body started giving out¡ªthe stress, pain, and awkward angle I was standing at proving too much to handle; but I forced myself to stay upright, link under the water. By the time my cerebral link had cooled down enough to stop causing severe burns, I just collapsed to the ground in front of the sink, breathing heavily as my legs gave out beneath me. It took several minutes for my brain to slowly reboot, regaining some motor and cognitive functions, finally allowing me to take in the extent of the damage. My body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. The combined phantom pain from Cyberspace, the real exhaustion, the repressed coughing and vomiting, and the actual pain from the cerebral link burning through my flesh sent continuous, searing hot jolts through my entire body. I just sat on the wet bathroom floor, letting time pass me by, trying to recoup some energy while the sink continued to spew out ice-cold water, which I paid no attention to. I had no idea how much time passed until I finally gathered enough strength to fill my lungs with proper air again. Gingerly, I started to assess the damage. Moving my hand over my shoulder, I carefully inched closer to the cerebral link, feeling the irritated and reddened skin on my back. As I neared the actual piece of tech, I winced at the touch, no matter how careful and light I tried to be. ¡°That¡¯s not good¡­¡± I muttered to myself, my voice hoarse and rasping more than I expected. Continuing to feel out the damage on my back, I stopped my hand shortly after discovering the first major injury. Around the cerebral link, there was a furrow carved into my back where the muscles, blood, and tissue had been burned away by the tech. It felt like the cerebral link had been crudely slapped into that space, waiting to be filled with packing foam to fit properly. ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck...¡± I winced with each word, the slight movements caused by opening my mouth and producing the sounds sending hot electricity through my body, radiating out from my back. ¡®What the fuck do I do?!¡¯ I thought desperately. The damage on my back was so severe that, in my old world, I''d likely have ended up in the hospital for months, scarred for life at the very least, unless I somehow managed to get one of those rare, new skin-regeneration procedures. I scrambled and limped toward the medicine cabinet, retrieving a can of spray-bandage. It felt heavy in my hands as I turned it over, my thoughts disjointed as I tried to plan my next steps. ¡®Should I cover it up with this¡­? Will the Rest Function even fix me¡­? It should, right? But what if there¡¯s spray-bandage inside the wound; will it just¡­ assimilate it? Not work at all?¡¯ Finally, I turned off the sink, letting the damp quiet of the bathroom wash over me. I sat down on the ground again, my legs feeling like jello and refusing to cooperate. Closing my eyes, I breathed as calmly as I could, trying to enter a meditative trance to clear my mind and form coherent thoughts again. ¡®In¡­ Out¡­ In¡­ Out¡­¡¯ I was relieved to feel the pain radiating throughout my body disperse with every breath. Gradually, my mind became calmer, no longer screaming at me to end the pain. More time passed, and I finally opened my eyes again. The pain levels had reduced to a manageable degree, roughly what it had felt like standing in Miss K¡¯s dojo before the final round where I lost my eye against Kenzie. With more coherent thoughts finally possible, I forced myself to deal with the current set of issues, one step at a time. ¡®Alright, Sera. Think. First things first: Do spray bandages interfere with the Rest Function?¡¯ I pondered. Thinking back to all the times I had been injured and used the spray bandages before, I realised I had never ended up with a lot of it inside the wound. While some had almost certainly found its way inside, as would be expected with a spray bandage, it had never been enough to cause me concern. The straight-up furrows on the sides of my cerebral link, however, were far too large for the spray bandage to simply cover over. I was missing literal chunks of flesh and muscle around the piece of metal, which would likely be filled out by the spray bandage to some degree. ¡®They are designed to be sterile and degradable by the body, so that¡¯s not an issue, but will it interfere with the healing¡­?¡¯ I wondered. I wasn¡¯t even sure if the Rest Function would be able to fix me at this stage, if nothing was interfering at all. In the game, the Rest Function allowed you to get back to full HP, but it couldn¡¯t regenerate body parts. Once you lost a certain chunk of your body, you¡¯d usually have to visit a Ripper or Slicer to get some synth-muscle and skin before the Rest Function could bond and fix up the rest of the injuries. So the question wasn¡¯t just whether the bandage would interfere but whether the Rest Function would even work to begin with. Making an executive decision, realising I was wasting precious time just staring at the can in my hand, I returned it to the medicine cabinet, opting not to cover the open burn wound on my back. My [First-Aid] Skill was pretty cross with my decision, insisting I should cover severe burns with sterile, antibacterial gauze and keep them warm, but I didn¡¯t have anything like that available right now. The medicine cabinet was thoroughly undersupplied, no matter how you looked at it. ¡®I¡¯ll just have to hope the Rest Function will work¡­¡¯ I thought as I started slowly cleaning up the bathroom floor. I mopped up the water and the splashes of my own stomach¡¯s contents that had missed the sink during my coughing fit. The work progressed slowly; I could barely move my arms without causing severe pain to radiate out from the top of my spine. But somehow, I still managed to make the bathroom presentable enough after a while. Limping out of the bathroom in a bit of a hunched state¡ªthe best posture I could manage that only radiated severe pain from my back, rather than utterly debilitating pain¡ªI made my way back to my room. Immediately, I was hit with the pungent stench of seared flesh and sweat. I barely managed to hold myself together, dry heaving and gagging at the utterly disgusting smell. This would be seriously hard to explain if Gabriel or Oliver stopped by anytime soon. There were no windows in our room since the apartment was situated inside the Megabuilding rather than towards one of the outer edges, meaning I only really had one recourse for this problem. I cranked up the AC all the way, hoping it would suck as much of the pungent, putrid air out of the room as possible. ¡®That¡¯s not going to be enough¡­¡¯ I thought, trying to come up with a way to get rid of the smell. The first idea that popped into my mind was layering another, more pleasant smell over it, but I wasn¡¯t exactly stocked up on scented candles. I didn¡¯t have much to cook with either, so the kitchen was out of the question. There was only one thing I could think of, even though I knew it would only make the room even less inhabitable for the foreseeable future. Moving through the putrid smell, I quickly reached my bed, pulled out a can of spray deodorant and the single bottle of perfume that original Sera owned. I started generously dousing the room with deodorant. This was something I had often done in my past life, primarily to cover the smell of food in my studio apartment. I had a bit of a complex when it came to food smells¡ªif there was a lingering smell after I ate, I¡¯d get nauseous until I vomited. So I had often resorted to using scented candles or cheap spray deodorant to mask the odour, even if it made the place nearly uninhabitable for a while. The same thing was quickly happening to my current room. I held my breath as best I could while nearly emptying the spray deodorant. I didn''t use much of the perfume, figuring that original Sera hadn¡¯t been a big spender, but the bottle looked surprisingly nice¡ªpotentially a gift. With the room doused in deodorant and hopefully becoming livable in the next few hours, I collapsed on the sofa in the living room, utterly spent and breathing heavily. I had too many things to think about, too many things to work on, but nothing took priority over the gaping hole in my neck right now. I positioned myself so the severe burns wouldn''t be visible if Gabriel or Oliver happened to stumble into the apartment. With a weary sigh, I punched in a solid eight hours of rest into the Rest Function window, hoping that it would be enough to start healing my wounds and clear my mind¡­
My eyes fluttered open, and, as usual, it felt like no time had passed. Even without the Notification popping up in front of my face, however, I knew I''d slept for a good while for a couple of reasons. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. First and foremost, my pain levels were drastically reduced. Not gone, which was a problem in and of itself, but at a level where I could function for the rest of the day without trouble. The other reason was Gabriel sitting on one of the couch chairs at the coffee table nearby, watching television¡ªhe was home.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
Looking over the System Notification, I felt my heart skip a beat. ¡®Damn it¡­ The Rest didn¡¯t fully heal me,¡¯ I thought, a creeping dread setting in. The hole in my neck was likely still there. I slowly moved my hand towards my neck, trying not to clue Gabriel in that I was awake, feeling for the injury and trying to assess just how bad I had messed up with that Cyberspace trip. If the Rest Function couldn¡¯t fix me, then I was in seriously deep trouble. I felt around my cerebral link, letting my fingers gently trace the grooves of its connection with my skin and the partial grooves left from the burnout. My [Slicing] and [First-Aid] Skills helped me quantify and qualify the remaining damage, and I breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. ¡®Looks like the Rest Function is working after all. It just didn¡¯t heal me all the way¡­ Maybe a second set of eight hours will fix me completely¡ªthis is definitely something I¡¯ll have to keep in mind for potential future injuries,¡¯ I mused as I settled into the sofa again, breathing calmly to quiet my heart, which had started pounding at the realisation that I might have some long-lasting damage after all. Not feeling quite up to talk to Gabriel quite yet, as it would likely involve some pointed questions about our room and a lot of conscious effort to make sure he didn¡¯t see my neck, I instead went over the rest of the System Notifications that I had ignored over the past few hours.
[System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 900xp gained for [Netrunning] Skill. [System]: 1,600xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: [Quick-Hacks] has reached Level 3. Perk Point Available. [System]: 200xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: [Stealth] Skill has reached current maximum. Higher Edge Attribute required. [System]: 100xp gained for [Meditation] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: [CQC] Skill Unlocked. Maximum Number of Skills (30/30) reached. [System]: 300xp gained for [CQC] Skill. [System]: 700xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 600xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for Edge Attribute.
[System]: Daemon (Slime) defeated. [System]: 55xp (+50xp) gained for defeating Daemon (Slime). [First-Kill Bonus Experience] [System]: Daemon (Slime) drops 1x (Uncommon) Data-Shard. [First-Kill Drop Chance Bonus]
It was a hell of a lot to take in, but I managed to catch the general gist fairly quickly. I had gained the [CQC] Skill from fighting the Daemon, along with a decent amount of general character experience, something I hadn¡¯t had access to up until now, barring the Task completions. While the Daemon itself had only provided 5xp, the first-kill bonus had given me about three-quarters as much as I would have gotten from one of the Data Collection Tasks. Furthermore, all the Skills I had used inside Cyberspace were clearly working towards being upgraded, even if I wasn¡¯t using them in real life¡ªthere were tremendous implications to unpack here, but I didn¡¯t have the nerve or time to do so right now. What mattered for me now was simply the fact that I had made some serious progress on all fronts. The next major point on the agenda, before I rushed off to the bathroom to spray bandage my neck and try to hide the injury from Gabriel as best I could, was to finish up the Perk selection for [Netrunning] and [Quick-Hacks], now that I had finally unlocked the Perk points for both. I had spent a lot of time recently thinking about the Perks and which ones I¡¯d go with once I finally had the points available, so the choices were made quickly. For [Netrunning], I chose [Spectral Scanner]. I couldn¡¯t help but think that if I had had this one earlier, the whole incident with the enemy netrunner would likely not have happened in the same way, if at all. The Perk would have almost definitely allowed me to catch the hidden scanners before accidentally walking into them and alerting the netrunner ahead of time.
[System]: [Spectral Scanner] (Netrunning) Perk acquired.
[Spectral Scanner] (Netrunning 3) Give me just one ping¡­ You gain the ability to use your device¡¯s specs to scan cyberspace around you for hidden entities, objects or daemons. The range and level of detection is determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
For [Quick-Hacks], I had already decided to go with [Spiritus Machina] for a couple of reasons. First off, it was the only Perk available that would set my programs and quick-hacks apart from others. It wasn¡¯t just a Perk that would benefit me directly while using it; I could also profit off it. Given my current, embarrassingly low funds, I figured having an edge like this would come in handy as I tried climbing the Operator and Netrunner ladder. Secondly, especially after my recent Cyberspace ordeal, I valued stealth for my netrunning activities more than raw firepower¡ªat least for now. Maybe once I got more comfortable with the whole thing and had a lot more subroutines and segments to choose from, firepower would seem more appealing. But for now, avoiding another netrunner chase like the one I just had was a top priority. Lastly, none of the other options provided something I needed immediately. Both [Subroutine Synthesis] and [Segment Mastery] required pre-existing code bases, which I basically had none of. And [Data Spike] worked a lot better with a variety of quick-hacks, which I also didn¡¯t have access to right now. So, [Spiritus Machina] would not only help me build my own library by making coding foundations easier to grasp, but it would also be active from the start. That meant every single one of my future segments and subroutines would benefit from the Perk right away. I wouldn¡¯t need to rewrite or reacquire anything later on.
[System]: [Spiritus Machina] (Quick-Hacks) Perk acquired.
[Spiritus Machina] (Quick-Hacks 3) Be a literal Ghost inside their systems! You gain the ability to code your programs and Quick-Hack subroutines with additional stealth layers, allowing them to remain undetected for far longer than usual.
With those Perks equipped, I carefully pretended to wake up, murmuring and stretching to catch Gabriel¡¯s attention. ¡°Finally awake, huh?¡± he asked, his voice filled with mirth. ¡°Tried talking to you a bit earlier, but you seemed completely out of it. Rough day at the stall?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± I replied, giving him a non-committal answer. A brief moment of silence hung between us as our eyes met. His right eyebrow raised a bit before he asked, ¡°Do I want to know what the fuck happened in our room or¡­?¡± So, the AC hadn¡¯t managed to clear everything out by the time he came back, it seemed. ¡°Better if you didn¡¯t. Nothing bad, really; just some failed experiments from the stall,¡± I retorted with a grimace spreading across my face. ¡°Won¡¯t happen again; promise.¡± ¡°Well, as long as you¡¯re sure¡­¡± Gabriel replied, just as non-committally. I wondered briefly whether he was questioning my explanation or if something else was bothering him, but I decided to accept his words for now. ¡°You wanna eat some dinner then? I saw you brought some extra ramen and I¡¯m positively starving. Figured I¡¯d wait for you to get back up before eating.¡± I gave him a terse nod as I got up from the couch and stretched lightly. ¡°Gonna head to the bathroom first, though. Can you set everything up on the table, Gabe?¡± ¡°Sure thing,¡± he said, getting up and heading to the kitchen area. He nodded and rose from his cushioned sofa to start preparing the table. I made good use of this short distraction to quickly head into the bathroom, close the door behind me, and start applying the spray bandage to my neck. ¡®I¡¯ll need to change clothes too; there¡¯s no shot my shirt isn¡¯t drenched in dried blood on the back,¡¯ I thought as I finished up. I flushed the toilet, just to make it seem like I had actually been using the bathroom, before peeking out of the room to check on Gabriel. He was busy placing plates and the high-tech containers of ramen onto the table, so I took that opportunity to rush into our room and quickly change my shirt into a pullover¡ªone of the few pieces of clothing I had managed to pick up recently. It would do a much better job of hiding the neck wound, which was burning slightly from the irritation of the spray bandage, despite the painkillers included with it. I headed back into the living room and sat down at the dinner table as Gabriel finished setting up. We dug into the ramen, and I asked him about his day at work. "How''s the double-shift treating you? You holding up okay?" I asked, genuinely curious and a bit concerned. Gabriel shrugged, giving me a tired smile. "It''s rough, but you know how it is. Just gotta keep pushing through. What about you? How''s Mr. Shori''s stall been treating you? Still cooking?" I filled him in on the latest happenings at the stall, leaving out the more harrowing details of my day. "It''s been busy, but nothing I can''t handle. And yeah, still cooking. Who do you think made that ramen, huh?" I replied with a smug smile, trying to keep things light. The evening continued like this and ended up being unexpectedly pleasant. We shared stories, laughed a bit, and for a while, I felt the tension in my muscles and the constant mental alertness I had been under recently start to fade. It was a nice, calm evening, and I realised just how much I needed it. The knots in my muscles eased, and the hair-trigger alertness I''d been living with lately seemed to recede. But, as usual, our time together was short-lived. Gabriel needed to get to bed to have enough energy for another double-shift the next day, and I also had to hit the sack to recharge for work and a visit to Miss K¡¯s dojo. Unofficially, I was desperate to get back to bed for another eight hours of Rest, hoping it would fully heal my neck. As I walked back to my bed, my eyes landed on my pillow: it was drenched in dried blood and sweat, with slight burn marks. ''Right¡­ Probably can¡¯t save this one, but I¡¯ll throw it in the wash anyway, see if it can be salvaged,'' I thought to myself with a sigh. I redid my bedding and tossed the whole set into the washing machine. Sitting down on the freshly changed bed, I noticed the data-shard laying on top of the blanket. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands, thoughts of the day swirling in my mind. It looked pretty nondescript, just like any other regular data-shard I''d seen before, except for its green hue. But I couldn''t help getting excited as I stared at it. Slotting it into my neck-slot, I was greeted by the exact window I had been hoping for.
[==Uncommon Data-Shard #024 Contents==] [1x Hypercoagulin Injector] [{c}33 Credits]
With a simple flick of a mental lever, I claimed both rewards and was startled when a roughly 10cm long injector suddenly appeared in my hand. ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± I mouthed, staring at it in utter disbelief.
[(Insufficient Access) has transferred {c}33 to your account with the note: ¡°{Claimed Reward from: Data-Shard #024}¡±]
While I hadn''t expected the System to lie about the rewards, I had imagined it would be more... subtle. Maybe a ring at the door with a package, or some kind of random event where I''d stumble upon it. But straight up... teleporting? Manifesting? Creating an injector from nothing, directly into my hands? A cold shiver ran down my back at the implications, but I couldn''t help but smile regardless. This was a massive game-changer, no matter how I looked at it. Being able to earn these types of randomised rewards while I was out doing netrunning business or even as an Operator to shore up my Task rewards further? That was something I could definitely work with. For now, however, I had to punch in another eight hours of Rest to hopefully fix up my neck before tomorrow¡¯s visit to Miss K¡¯s dojo. Confirming the entered length of my intended rest, I instantly fell asleep¡­ Chapter 75 - Anima My eyes fluttered open, and the usual post-Rest Function confusion set in, manifesting as blurry vision and a bout of vertigo. I weathered the storm for a second or two until my body got itself under control again. Immediately, I recognized one important change from before: There was no longer any pain. Gingerly, yet excitedly, I felt the back of my neck and found¡­ nothing. The wound had healed completely, and it didn¡¯t feel like there was even a scar left behind where the grooves had been burnt into my flesh. ¡°Haaa¡­¡± I let out an involuntary, relieved sigh. A part of me had very much believed that the damage I had done to myself was going to be permanent, at least to some degree. ¡®Next time, you¡¯re taking the damn deck; no more raw-dogging Cyberspace, Sera,¡¯ I told myself, making a mental note to try my best not to repeat this performance. That¡¯s exactly what decks were for, after all: To offload the majority of computational requirements from your own brain and cerebral link to secondary hardware. Specifically, the heat. You could still run into a burnout situation with a deck since a certain percentage of the heat, as well as the overflow that the deck couldn¡¯t handle, would still get transferred over to your own link. But even that overflow heat would have only been a fraction of what I had ended up handling just yesterday. Throwing aside those thoughts for now, I prepared myself for the day ahead. I had my usual workout routine, followed by a day of work at Mr. Shori¡¯s, and then another dojo session with Miss K. To say I was excited for this day would be an understatement. Not only would I get some more [{Anima Razor}] training in, but my last trip to the dojo, despite its rather abrupt and painful ending, had proven exceptionally worthwhile. And, last but definitely not least, I was going to see Kenzie again! Mission ¡°Find a friend¡± was still very much a high priority, after all. Having someone as smart and capable as Kenzie on my side would be an absolute game changer for me. ¡°I could even take her with me on safe Tasks, if she¡¯s interested¡­¡± I muttered with a hesitant smile as I threw on my workout shirt. The hard part was making sure I didn¡¯t run into another ¡°Aki¡± situation and also ensuring Kenzie actually wanted to be friends in the first place. I was very much aware that I was pinning a lot of hopes on our singular encounter so far, but it had felt like there was some definite chemistry going on between the two of us. Making friends in real life had unfortunately always been a bit of a troublesome endeavour for me in my past life. It was just so much easier to become friends over a few rounds of League or Valorant than it was trying to impress someone face-to-face with my awkward self. Shaking my head to clear out those troublesome thoughts, I moved into the living room to get started on my usual morning routine¡­
[System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Anima Attribute. [System]: Anima Attribute has reached 1. [System]: 200xp gained for [{Anima Razor}]. [System]: [{Anima Razor}] has reached level 1.
My hands were already cramping up from the past hour of training, but I had finally managed to get my first rank and level ups for the strange, enigmatic Attribute and Skills that Mr. Shori had helped me unlock recently. Feeling the knowledge download for the Anima Attribute start, I felt a well of excitement rush through my body. I was finally going to get some rudimentary answers about what this Attribute even was. The instant it hit, however, all excitement got immediately snuffed out as I stumbled and crashed onto the floor in the back of the stall. A bout of vertigo so strong that it felt like I was being forcibly ripped into Cyberspace from a standing position threw me to the ground in a whimpering mess. Vivid sprites of colour popped in and out of existence before my eyes, making my vision either blurry or too busy trying to focus on each individual sprite to see. Small, round, and colourful, they darted around me like ethereal fairies, each one a different hue. My blood began to feel like it was heating up, a strange warmth spreading from my core to my extremities. As the assault continued, I started to see the walls around me waver, as though they were made of liquid rather than solid matter. The floor beneath me seemed to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat, a steady thump-thump that resonated through my entire body. It was as if the very fabric of reality was bending and shifting around me, an eldritch, otherworldly sensation that left me reeling. Suddenly, I felt a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. It was like an invisible hand was squeezing my lungs, and I gasped for air, my vision darkening at the edges. Through the haze of pain and confusion, I realised that these were all mere examples of Anima in action. It was mana; a fundamental force that permeated all things in this world. Each colour of the sprites corresponded to a different general concept, acting as the basic building blocks of any Anima-related Skill or Ability. As the download continued, I finally began to understand the importance of these strange sprites. They weren''t just random bursts of colour but representations of the various aspects of Anima itself. Red sprites embodied raw energy, while blue ones signified information and states. Green sprites were linked to growth and life, while orange ones dealt with matter. Finally, yellow sprites were even more abstract, representing the very concepts of reality that surrounded me. Each colour held a piece of the greater puzzle, and together, they formed the whole picture of what Anima was and how it could be harnessed. The pain and disorientation started to ebb away, leaving me with a newfound, albeit rudimentary, understanding of this mysterious Attribute. I had no idea what to do with it quite yet, but I knew I had taken a crucial first step. Before I could fully recover or internalise this, however, I got hit with the second knowledge download, this time for the [{Anima Razor}] Skill. Luckily, the previous Attribute knowledge download had laid a lot of the groundwork for this one. It didn¡¯t hit quite as hard as it likely would have without the fundamentals of Anima being forcibly jammed into my head just moments prior. This time, I was slightly better prepared for the onslaught of information. The knowledge download brought with it an intricate understanding of how to channel the coloured sprites in a specific fashion to create an edge of compressed, oscillating air corresponding to the bladed weapon I was holding. The muscle memory that accompanied the knowledge was equally as intense, however. I felt my hands and arms twitching and contracting in painful ways as they learned the precise movements required to both channel and wield a blade with the enhanced power of Anima. To channel the sprites, I needed a very specific mindset, a blend of focus and intuition that allowed me to entice the sprites to work with me. I learned to visualise the sprites as well, directing their flow from the environment into the weapon itself. A lot of red sprites, embodying raw energy, swirled around the blade within my mind, infusing it with a glowing, fiery aura. When I focused on them, I could feel the heat building in my hand, ready to be unleashed with a single swing. On the other hand, the orange and blue sprites, which coalesced the surrounding air into a pressurised, rapidly oscillating blade, flowed surprisingly smoothly and calmly, wrapping around the blade like a cool mist. Channelling all three of them together, however, was exceedingly taxing on both the human psyche and motor functions as I had already picked up on from Mr. Shori¡¯s initial presentation. The knowledge download simply confirmed it once again and explained a bit about why. I finally understood the reason as to why Mr. Shori had taught me to hold the knives in such an exceedingly strange, almost alien fashion. It was an attempt to essentially "draw" three different signs to entice the necessary sprites to follow my command at the same time¡ªalmost like attempting to write three different letters with the same stroke, except my fingers were part of the canvas and brush simultaneously. The Skill also came with additional knowledge about using all types of bladed weaponry, complete with its own set of instincts and techniques. I learned the importance of balance and stance for different weapons, how to read an opponent''s movements, and how to exploit their weaknesses. Whether it was a knife, a sword, a makeshift blade, or a giant two-hander, the principles remained the same¡ªprecision, power, control, and timing. I gained an instinctive understanding of moving not just my arm and hands to swing, but of channelling the energy of my entire body into each swing and stab. I learned that bladed weapons didn¡¯t simply cut because they were sharp but also because the combined kinetic forces of my entire body¡¯s muscles shifting, tensing, and releasing added the necessary power to cut deep. It was a veritable fountain of information that wormed its way into my head, but I could already tell that it wasn¡¯t even scratching the tip of the iceberg. This was just the very first level of the Skill, so a lot of the techniques and muscle memory was rudimentary at best; yet it already promised to up my game in terms of using knives or swords exponentially. By the time the download finally finished, I was left a complete mess on the slightly sticky floor of Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. My mind and every muscle in my body felt like they were literally on fire although strangely numbed down in the pain department, thankfully. As my eyes finally regained some semblance of focus and the ringing in my ears, which I hadn¡¯t even realised was there, started to ebb away, I heard Mr. Shori¡¯s very concerned voice filter through. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°{...Ela?! Talk to me!}¡± A groan escaped me as I tried to speak, and I cleared my throat half a dozen times before I finally managed to form words. ¡°{I¡­ I¡¯m okay¡­ I think.}¡± I tried to get a good look at Mr. Shori, to gauge how much time had passed and what he might have witnessed, but I was distracted by the few coloured sprites that kept popping in and out of existence around his face. There weren¡¯t nearly as many as before, during the actual download, but they were frequent enough to be thoroughly distracting. ¡°{There¡¯s¡­ these strange colours, Mr. Shori. They just suddenly appeared,}¡± I said, fishing for any signs of recognition on his face. I had absolutely no idea what part of this whole Anima thing was considered ¡°normal¡± in this world, so I was completely in the dark about what could be ¡°System-only¡± or not. My best bet was to figure this out sooner rather than later, even if it meant potentially revealing some stuff about myself to Mr. Shori that I¡¯d rather keep on the down-low. His brows creased as he looked down at me. The way he was positioned, I realised he was holding me in his arms like someone would an injured dog or child. ¡°{Colours¡­? Describe them,}¡± he ordered, almost forcefully¡ªa stark departure from the usually jovial Mr. Shori I knew. I couldn¡¯t help but tense up at his tone, worried I might have done something foolish by admitting I was seeing colours. But then again, if I had simply hit my head on the way down, seeing colours wasn¡¯t necessarily out of the question. So I had a bit of wiggle room to try and eke out an explanation if Mr. Shori had one. ¡°{They¡¯re like¡­ dots? Tiny, round sprites of colours. Red, blue, green, yellow, and orange that keep appearing in my line of sight and then disappearing,}¡± I explained with a raspy voice. I didn¡¯t even need to try and act; I really was a complete mess. I added a quick, concerned, ¡°{Am¡­ Am I having a stroke¡­?!}¡± for good measure, just in case I needed to backtrack and seeing all these strange sprites wasn¡¯t actually normal for people who used Anima to any degree. I felt his rough, wrinkled hands carefully probe the back of my head and around it, searching for any signs of serious injuries before he levelled his eyes with mine once more. ¡°{I don¡¯t think so¡­ My Sensei told me once that if I properly learned and resonated with Anima, I would come to find the world a lot more ¡°colourful¡±. I think this might be what they were referring to. I can¡¯t see any colours, but I am also old. I have not learned and practised as much as I should have when I was young, so I never got to the point of real resonance¡­}¡± His words sounded almost melancholic, like a regret hidden deep inside the kind man¡¯s heart. ¡°{I¡¯m surprised you have gotten to this stage already; many practitioners never reach the level of resonance required to directly see and interface with Anima. It¡¯s only been a few hours of training for you¡­}¡± His words trailed off, Mr. Shori sinking into deep thought. I felt supremely awkward, as I was still clutched in his arms like an injured puppy, but I also did not feel like interrupting this moment for him. It seemed to be profoundly personal, in a way. I waited for a whole minute before I started wriggling and trying to get out of his grasp, which seemed to jolt him back to the here and now. {¡°Ah! Right,¡±} he said as he unhanded me and helped me stand back up. {¡°You are sure you are alright, Ela? No pain? I couldn¡¯t find any injuries on your head, but if you¡¯re feeling unwell, let me know. I know a couple of professionals in the area.¡±} Feeling slightly overwhelmed with the amount of kindness and concern levelled at me, I quickly assured Mr. Shori that everything was fine. I still felt slightly out of it and the coloured sprites kept popping in and out of existence, but I didn¡¯t feel like I was necessarily lying. I did feel a lot better than the moment the downloads had stopped. ¡®What is wrong with this stupid System?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think to myself with a bit of anger. ¡®Why are some of these downloads so utterly debilitating? What if I was in the middle of something important, or I had fallen on one of the knives in the kitchen? There¡¯s gotta be a way to make sure these downloads stop just randomly knocking me the fuck out¡­¡¯ I made a note in my cerebral interface to look through the System ¡°App¡± settings later to see if there was a way to change the behaviour of the downloads; I didn¡¯t have the time to do it right now. The next few minutes were spent reassuring an overly concerned Mr. Shori that I was, in fact, not dying and definitely okay. The number of coloured sprites around us continued to decrease until I only saw one or two every minute, instead of dozens at a time. Mr. Shori explained more about what he had learned from his teacher back when he had been a student learning the [{Anima Razor}] technique, although much of it was coated in a strange, almost mystic lens. His teacher had told him that Anima was akin to the building blocks of life¡ªsimilar to physics and chemistry¡ªthat affected the world and everything in it in similar ways. The coloured sprites I was seeing were supposedly some form of ¡°free¡± energy, not yet bound to a particular thing and harnessed to change things. I understood it as essentially a mixture of magic and alchemy, in fantasy terms. The sprites were free sources of mana, while changing things required specific ¡°recipes¡± to get the desired effect. You couldn¡¯t just throw a bunch of blue sprites into a knife and hope for the best; it would likely result in the knife¡¯s materials changing their state, either vaporising, melting, or turning to plasma, given enough red sprites to support the state change¡¯s energy requirements. Ultimately, Mr. Shori accepted that I was indeed fine, and he hypothesised that I was one of the ¡°gifted,¡± as his teacher had called certain practitioners of Anima, who could rapidly reach the first stage of resonance with the world around them. I didn¡¯t correct him by saying that I was cheating, using the System to bridge that strange, esoteric gap between the mundane and Anima. However, hearing that there were apparently other people out there who could see, interface, and use Anima to similar or even more intricate degrees was an important piece of information. We spent another hour talking about all things Anima, with Mr. Shori divulging a lot of the knowledge he had gleaned over the years from his teacher. Eventually though, I had to head out to get changed into my dojo outfit. Miss K¡¯s martial arts training was coming up, and I didn¡¯t dare be late for it. On my way back to the apartment, I quickly checked out the System Notifications for the rest of the morning, to make sure I wasn¡¯t missing anything important.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 0xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. Edge Attribute requirements not met to increase Level. [System]: 200xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
[System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. Tech Attribute requirements not met to increase Level. [System]: 400xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
Nodding to myself in satisfaction, I realised that quite a few of my Skills were ready or nearly ready to Level-Up to important milestones. Both [Cooking] and [Acrobatics] were about to reach level 3, unlocking their corresponding Perk Points, while [Stealth], [Athletics], [Negotiation], and the Edge and Tech Attributes were just about ready to hit their next levels as well. All of these together would seriously improve my already bustling toolset. It was wild to think that mere weeks ago, I had been unable to even stand on my own two feet; compared to now, where I was making strides in so many different areas and skill sets. I still wasn¡¯t quite sure if my current approach was the right one, as it felt a bit scattershot, but I was on track with my goals for the Operator meeting later in the week. That was all I really cared about at the moment. There was simply too much to do and not enough time to do it all, so I had to focus on one major goal at a time while keeping up with as much side content as I could. It was like juggling an open-world RPG with a time limit on the main quest. I wanted to hit as many side-quests and goals as possible while still making sure I got enough main questline content done to avoid falling behind on the deadline. ¡®This is why I always fucking hated time limits on quests¡­¡¯ Putting those thoughts aside for now, I quickly made my way back home from the restricted elevator and changed into my dojo clothing. It had been repaired since my last visit, and I was certain it would end up getting shredded once again today if I knew anything about Miss K¡¯s way of tutoring and Kenzie¡¯s penchant to use her claws extensively. With those thoughts in the back of my mind, I made my way to the 45th floor...
On my way to the Arkion Dojo, I couldn¡¯t help but get distracted by the colourful sprites I saw everywhere. It wasn¡¯t as jarring or obvious as Cyberspace had been, but the Anima sprites were absolutely everywhere; just not in great numbers. I saw some green ones on top of a pile of trash, a few blue ones simply floating in mid-air as I exited the elevator, and quite a few pockets of orange ones near the different shops and apartments, specifically near the primary pillars and foundations. It was a thoroughly odd experience, like I had just gotten my first pair of glasses and realised the world didn¡¯t have to be blurry. Like the realisation that leaves were not actually just splodges of colour but individual pieces of a greater whole that I could perceive. The main issue with this new sense was that I didn¡¯t really know what to do with all of the information. The knowledge downloads for the Attribute and the Skill had hinted at other uses for the sprites, but without the proper signs, runes, letters, or whatever one might want to call them, there was no chance I could actually do anything with them. At least they were pretty to look at, so I had that going for me as a consolation. Stepping up to the Arkion Dojo¡¯s entrance, I was immediately ushered in by Miss K¡¯s voice crackling over the intercom. The second I entered the giant backroom¡ªthe gymnasium with the coloured sections where Kenzie and I had spent the last session beating each other up¡ªI froze dead in my tracks. The entire room was positively suffused with sprites, primarily of the green variety. It wasn¡¯t just a little bit more than what I had seen on the other floors; it was like a veritable torrent of them. The thick clusters of sprites were so dense that I had a hard time seeing the opposite side of the room, like swarms of arrows blotting out the sun. ¡°What the¡­¡± I muttered, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Taking a closer look, I realised that the concentration of sprites differed based on the coloured zones of the dojo. The blue zones¡ªthe ones we were confined to according to Miss K¡¯s rules¡ªhad the least amount of sprites. But the density of sprites scaled up drastically with each subsequent colour zone. It seemed like an invisible force field kept them inside the actual ¡°battle¡± area. Even the sprites drifting towards the edges simply stopped and turned around once they reached the boundary of the area. ¡®Is this why we¡¯re not supposed to go to any of the other colored segments¡­? There¡¯d be too many¡­ sprites?¡¯ I thought, trying to combine this new information with Miss K¡¯s insistence on never stepping foot into an area we weren¡¯t assigned to. ¡°...ra?¡± My eyes snapped to the voice that jolted me from my thoughts, and I found Miss K standing right next to me, looking at me with a mixture of intrigue and worry. ¡°Sera? You good?¡± she asked, repeating herself for what seemed like the third or fourth time. I swallowed hard, struggling to get a bead on Miss K. Thousands of sprites actively swirled around her with such vigour and speed that it almost looked like they were at war with one another. It was a whirlwind of colour that completely hid Miss K from my sight. I did my best to put on a smile and replied, ¡°Absolutely! The dojo just always impresses me with its size. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen any¡ª¡± Strong fingers gripped my cheeks, cutting me off mid-sentence. Miss K pulled me closer, her brown-yellow eyes seeming to stare right into my soul. A toothy grin split her face as she found whatever she had been looking for in my eyes. ¡°You see them,¡± she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt, before she muttered to herself, ¡°I knew you were an odd one, but I didn¡¯t expect you to be this strange. Not at all¡­¡± Without warning, she started briskly walking to her office, pulling me along by the face with one hand, her grip unyielding like an industrial vice. It seemed that Mr. Shori wasn¡¯t the only one in my circle of influence who knew something about Anima¡­ Chapter 76 - Transparent Massaging my cheeks gently, I found myself sitting inside Miss K¡¯s office once more. She was leaning her back on her desk, staring at me with an intensity that made me feel like a kid caught sneaking out after curfew. It was obvious this whole situation had something to do with the Anima sprites I saw swirling around the dojo and the mini-tornado of them around Miss K herself, but I felt totally out of my depth¡ªI had just barely begun to scratch the surface of what Anima even was. There was no way I could explain it coherently to someone as sharp as Miss K. ¡°So, you got something to report to me, my dearest?¡± she asked in a sickly sweet tone, her expectant look making it clear she wasn¡¯t buying any nonsense. Internally groaning, I racked my brain for an answer but came up empty. It wasn¡¯t that I wanted to keep the whole Anima thing a secret, but I genuinely didn¡¯t know what I was even dealing with. This was completely uncharted territory for me¡ªnone of this magic-y stuff had ever been in the game, as far as I knew. ¡°Ehh¡­¡± I stalled, trying to buy some more time for my brain to come up with something smart to say. Ultimately, I decided to go with the flow and be somewhat open¡ªMiss K was the only person I¡¯d confided in about the System so far. There was no point in backtracking on whether or not I trusted her now. ¡°I can see¡­ colours? Like strange specks of colours floating around. There were a ton of them inside the dojo, and there¡¯s also quite a lot of them just¡­ swirling around you. What are they?¡± I figured if I was already spilling the beans, I might as well try to squeeze some info out of her too. A toothy, predatory grin slowly spread across Miss K¡¯s face as she looked down at me, making me squirm in the chair and almost forget about the sting in my cheeks. ¡°You can see Anima, huh?¡± She asked, more rhetorical than anything. ¡°You are one strange girl, aren¡¯t you? Just a few days ago, you seemed completely unaware of Anima as a whole; not even feeling the massive suffusion of life sprites in the arena you fought in. Yet now you¡¯re capable of seeing them? Is this part of your unique connection? Be honest with me, Sera. Remember, we have a deal.¡± Her insistence on our deal was surprisingly forceful, but I got where she was coming from. A few days ago, I was clueless about Anima, but now I had apparently hit some significant milestone if Mr. Shori¡¯s reaction was anything to go by. The real question was: How much did I want to divulge? Miss K already knew a bit about the System in my head, sure, but that didn¡¯t mean I could trust her completely. She¡¯d held up her end of the bargain so far, but it had only been a few days¡ªbarely enough time for her to plan any kind of betrayal if that was her intention to begin with. It might¡¯ve been paranoid, but I really didn¡¯t want to end up in some lab for the rest of my (second) life. So I only really had two choices, as far as I could see: Either I threw Mr. Shori under the bus, potentially risking him getting beat up or killed by the magic police¡ªif those even existed¡ªor I fessed up and explained more about the System inside my head, potentially risking a permanent lab assignment. ¡®Fuck me¡­ I should¡¯ve asked Mr. Shori how to turn this shit off and pretend I never heard about Anima in the first place,¡¯ I thought ruefully, before taking a deep breath and making a decision. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s part of that connection; somehow.¡± There was no way in hell I would risk Mr. Shori. I didn¡¯t know if there was such a thing as magic police or if Miss K¡¯s faction, if there were any, was somehow opposed to Mr. Shori¡¯s, but I refused to risk it. I owed the man more than I could possibly repay, so the least I could do was keep my mouth shut and take it on the chin. ¡°I only realised that this ¡®Anima¡¯ was a thing a few days ago, and then, a few hours ago, my vision suddenly exploded. The connection inside my head gave me a rough rundown of what Anima might be, but I barely understood anything. Now I can see these specks¡ªehhh, sprites, I guess. They¡¯re absolutely everywhere and I can¡¯t seem to turn it off.¡± I did my best to stick to the truth, even though I was holding back quite a bit of information. Miss K had already proven way too perceptive for me to try lying to her. I was nowhere near skilled enough at [Deception] to consider that a good idea. The best deception I could muster was keeping as much intel to myself as I could while not openly lying. Miss K¡¯s eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly before asking the worst possible question, ¡°Who taught you?¡± I tensed up involuntarily, despite my Ego¡¯s best efforts to keep me calm. There was no way I could lie and say I taught myself. Even if I knew what Anima actually really was, it didn¡¯t seem like something a random 15-year-old could just stumble across by themselves. ¡®I could always blame it on the System,¡¯ I thought, desperately trying to find a way out without causing trouble for Mr. Shori. ¡®But that could cause its own issues... Damnit! Maybe I could¡ª¡¯ ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Miss K¡¯s voice interrupted my frantic thoughts. ¡°No need to tell me. I can see it¡¯s causing undue stress. Just remember, Sera, I¡¯m not your enemy. We have a deal, and I intend to keep it.¡± A wave of relief washed over me, thoroughly surprised at her level of understanding and kindness to allow me to leave Mr. Shori out of it. ¡°The deal doesn¡¯t involve divulging all your secrets, so I won¡¯t be mad at you for keeping it to yourself,¡± she continued, gently cupping my face in both hands and directing my eyes to hers. ¡°But make no mistake, Sera: Anima is a dangerous thing to toy with. Whoever is teaching you, don¡¯t blindly trust them. If the wrong people find out about your apparent massive aptitude for it, there will be more trouble than you ever thought possible.¡± My eyes widened at her candid warning, and I nodded desperately, which finally prompted her to let go of my face. Unlike the earlier cheek-pulling, this time my cheeks didn¡¯t hurt but felt strangely nice. Her hands had been surprisingly soft and gentle, almost erasing the earlier pain from my body¡¯s memory. ¡°That whole thing does bring up a lot of additional questions and things we¡¯ll both have to consider going forward,¡± Miss K said, breathing out a big sigh. She clearly felt a sense of responsibility to keep me safe to some degree¡ªsomething I was very thankful for. ¡°First and foremost, this actually accelerates your training regimen quite a lot. You see, Anima is technically part of the curriculum here, but only for students who have mastered the first five steps already. You¡¯re skipping the line quite heavily to some degree here, and we¡¯ll have to account for that.¡± I was about to interject and say I wouldn¡¯t mind just going with the normal training regimen like everyone else, but Miss K held up her hand before I could even form the words, as if she could read my very thoughts. ¡°Don¡¯t try to tell me you¡¯ll go with the normal route; that¡¯s not possible. Once the genie¡¯s out of the bottle, you can¡¯t put it back in. Now that you¡¯ve unlocked your body¡¯s attunement to Anima, it will naturally start interacting with it, whether you want it to or not. The dojo is set up to make attunement easier¡ªthe life sprites you¡¯ve seen in all the coloured training areas¡ªbut even without this setup, you¡¯d still experience a different outcome than usual, simply because you¡¯ve attuned already.¡± My confused look seemed to strike a chord in Miss K, and she laughed briefly before continuing to explain. ¡°What I¡¯m saying is this, Sera: You¡¯re an Anima practitioner now, whether you want to be or not. That means we¡¯ll have to teach you how to work with the Anima around you, otherwise it will hamper your growth. Your body and mind will continuously try to fight it if you don¡¯t. Think of it like a strong gust of wind: You can either fight against it and move slowly or move with it and accelerate your steps, but you can¡¯t simply ignore it.¡± Pushing herself back to a standing position with a simple flex of her legs, Miss K towered over me for a moment, mustering me intently, before finally stepping past me toward the door leading back into the dojo itself. ¡°For today, we¡¯ll do things by the book, but starting next session, I¡¯ll have some extra exercises and extra-curricular training for you. Keep the whole Anima thing on the down-low and don¡¯t let anyone know about it. We clear on that, Sera?¡± Her words were hard and forceful, underlining the importance of what she was asking from me. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am. I didn¡¯t intend on telling anyone anything anyway, but I¡¯ll definitely promise it, too,¡± I replied honestly and earnestly. Miss K seemed willing enough to keep my secrets for now, so there was no reason to deny her request; especially because it already aligned with my preferences anyway. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Wonderful. Now let¡¯s get back and get the session started before the rest of your group starts burning down the dojo,¡± she said with a mischievous smirk, turning to leave the office. ¡°Ah, ehh¡­!¡± I started, catching her just before she opened the door. She turned back toward me with a questioning look on her face. ¡°How¡­ How do I turn off this colour vision thing? It¡¯s going to be exceedingly difficult to keep this hidden if I can¡¯t even see any of the other people in my group because of all the life sprites in the training room.¡± Miss K looked momentarily taken aback, then burst into a full-on belly laugh, leaving me standing there, confused. I hadn¡¯t thought the question was that funny, but apparently, it was. ¡°That¡¯s fucking great,¡± she finally managed to squeeze out between bouts of laughter. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right, of course. You can¡¯t really function properly when you can¡¯t see. Don¡¯t mind me laughing here; it¡¯s just that your entire path to get here is so thoroughly backwards and nonsensical that it somehow just makes perfect sense for you. From what I know about you so far, you seem to manage to get in over your head quite readily.¡± I wanted to protest, but on second thought, I couldn¡¯t exactly deny it. I didn¡¯t know the ¡°proper path¡± for learning about Anima, but I definitely hadn¡¯t followed it. The System had sprung it on me like a mousetrap. Calming herself down enough to wear a content grin, Miss K stepped away from the door. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t get you your vision back, shall we? First, however you learned to attune to Anima, I hope it came with some sort of channelling, because otherwise we¡¯re in a bit of a bind.¡± My nodding prompted a sigh of relief from her. ¡°Great, at least something went the proper way. I can work with that. So, try channelling however you learned to channel your Anima, but focus it on your eyes instead of whatever you were taught to do.¡± I stared at her for a few seconds, trying to parse what she wanted me to do exactly, then assumed my rudimentary stance I¡¯d learned from Mr. Shori. Miss K raised an eyebrow almost immediately as I started drawing the sigils with my fingers. The moment I began channelling whatever Anima I could grasp, her surprised voice broke my concentration. ¡°Wait, wait, wait! Stop right there, Sera!¡± ¡°Ahh¡­! What did I do?! Is everything alright?¡± I asked, worried I¡¯d done something seriously wrong. I had never really channelled Anima without Mr. Shori¡¯s supervision, so there was a pretty good chance I might have messed something up, even if my System-granted muscle memory and knowledge seemed content with what I¡¯d done just now. ¡°What are you doing with your hands? Are¡­ Are you drawing sigils, Sera?¡± Miss K asked, her voice a mix of utter disbelief and confusion. ¡°I¡­ Ehh¡­ Maybe?¡± I answered, uncertain about what exactly it was that I was doing. The knowledge downloads hadn¡¯t gone in-depth on this whole ¡°drawing sigils¡± thing, so I wasn¡¯t sure if that¡¯s what I was actually doing. ¡°It¡¯s how I was taught to use Anima. Isn¡¯t that what you told me to do?¡± Her flabbergasted expression spoke volumes, and I cringed internally for once again stepping right into a minefield. ¡°Who in the ever-loving fuck taught you about Anima?! Who is this absolute moron that teaches fucking sigil drawing, of all things, before explaining how to turn off the Anima vision?!¡± Miss K suddenly erupted, throwing her arms up in exasperation¡ªsomething thoroughly out of character for the usually stoic and playful woman I knew. ¡°Fuck me¡­ Alright, let¡¯s try this differently then; but we have to hurry,¡± she added after a deep sigh, stepping close and cupping my face once again. As she drew her face closer to mine and I immediately felt heat rise rapidly to my head; her smooth, olive skin and supple lips drawing my eyes without much recourse. ¡°Ahhh¡­¡± I tried to speak, but she held my cheeks firmly, making it more of a strange mumble. I tried to wrestle out of her grip listlessly, feeling thoroughly strange about the whole situation, but stopped immediately when she briefly squeezed my head. ¡°Look in my eyes, Sera. Focus on them.¡± I felt her breath way too close to my own mouth and nose, a shiver running down my spine and belly. Her eyes, a captivating mix of brown and yellow, seemed to pierce right into my soul, making it nearly impossible to look away. ¡®Holy shit, get your shit together, Sera! She¡¯s your teacher and she¡¯s just helping! Focus, girl. Focus!¡¯ I kept telling myself, causing my Ego Attribute to finally kick in and calm down my body somewhat. The warmth of her touch and the closeness of her presence made my heart race, but I tried to concentrate on her words and follow her instructions¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the time to wonder about what the actual fuck was going on with me. ¡°Now, channel your Anima and focus it on your eyes, just like I said. Forget about the sigils. Just draw the Anima around you into your eyes. Trust me, this will work.¡± As I started to focus, trying my best to follow her instructions, I could¡¯ve sworn I heard her whisper ¡°...I hope,¡± but I decided to ignore it. Channelling Anima without the exact setup that Mr. Shori had taught me, including the sigils¡ªwhich was what they were apparently called based on Miss K¡¯s insistence¡ªproved to be exceedingly difficult. At first, I wasn¡¯t sure what to do except stare into my Sensei¡¯s mesmerising eyes as she had ordered. But when my thoughts drifted to more unproductive places and my Ego Attribute had to rein them back in forcefully, I realised it wasn¡¯t going to work without more effort on my part. Tapping into the knowledge and muscle memory I had gained from both the Anima and [{Anima Razor}] downloads, I tried to find the specific sections that dealt with channelling the energy itself, rather than using it. Surprisingly enough, it didn¡¯t take long. The System¡¯s knowledge downloads had left behind an almost instinctual library that would immediately provide what I was looking for with the right prodding. ¡°Channelling¡± seemed to be the right keyword. The knowledge inside my head sprang forth like a newly tapped oil well. Immediately, I felt my mind focus in a slightly different way, recognizing small bouts of energy floating around me like a strange sort of sixth sense. Focusing on my eyes and, in turn, on Miss K¡¯s eyes right in front of my own, I tried channelling whatever this strange sixth sense was telling me existed. At first, nothing happened, but then, slowly but surely, I saw small, blue-coloured sprites leave Miss K¡¯s eyes and gently float toward my own. I instinctively tried to pull away, to protect my eyes from being hit, but her grip on my face was ironclad, allowing not even a millimetre of movement. ¡°Keep your eyes open, it¡¯s working,¡± Miss K whispered. A certain part of me couldn¡¯t help but think that her husky whisper-voice was very nice. Ignoring that part as best I could, I tried my best to force my eyes to stay open as more and more blue sprites floated towards me from my Sensei¡¯s eyes. It was an odd phenomenon, to say the least. Having something get closer and closer to your eyes while you try to force them to stay open, with every fibre in your body screaming at you to close them to protect yourself¡­ It was not unlike using contacts or eye drops, except there was very clearly some kind of colour involved and no optometrist to reassure me that it wasn¡¯t unhealthy. I really hoped that Anima sprites didn¡¯t include microplastics. I just had to trust that Miss K knew what she was talking about and hope that the strange blue sprites didn¡¯t cause any lasting damage as they started accumulating on my eyeballs. The strangest part, however, was that I didn¡¯t actually physically feel the sprites as they started touching my eyeballs. I could sense them with that strange sixth sense that I was using to channel the Anima, but my eyes didn¡¯t sting, nor did I feel the need to rub them or get rid of something inside of them. It was like the sprites simply didn¡¯t exist in a physical sense to begin with. They moved with a gentle, almost deliberate grace, like tiny fireflies on a mission. The closer they got, the more I could see the intricate patterns within each sprite, swirling with energy and purpose. Miss K¡¯s face, inches from mine, remained intensely focused, her eyes never leaving mine. As the blue sprites accumulated and passed a certain threshold, my vision started to clear, the colourful sprites turning more and more transparent. The overwhelming chaos of colours swirling around Miss K¡¯s face began to fade, replaced by a clearer, sharper view of the world around me. I could even see her features more distinctly than ever before now¡ªthe determined set of her jaw, the slight curve of her lips, and the glint of approval in her eyes. ¡°See? No sigils required,¡± she said with a grin, her tone playful but sincere. ¡°Now, slowly stop channelling Anima, but keep the focus on your eyes, or you¡¯ll lose the sprites.¡± I followed her orders to the letter, gradually letting go of the sixth sense while trying to ¡°hold¡± onto the sprites affixed to my eyes. Gradually, more and more sprites disappeared from my senses, until I could only recognize the ones accumulated on my eyes. Then, finally, I lost sense of them as well, but my vision stayed the same. ¡°I¡­ I think I did it?¡± I said cautiously after a few seconds, keeping my eyes focused on Miss K¡¯s, but trying to see if any colours remained in my peripheral vision. ¡°I don¡¯t see any colours at all anymore, and I don¡¯t feel the sprites either.¡± ¡°Wonderful! Great work, Sera! I transferred quite a number of blue sprites to you, since I doubted you¡¯d be able to channel enough from the ambient Anima to fully saturate your eyes. The fact that you managed to capture them this quickly, however, is exceedingly promising. You really are a natural at this!¡± As Miss K removed her hands from the sides of my face and freed my head with an enthusiastic smile, I instinctively moved forward just a tiny step, searching for the warmth of her fingers once again. I quickly stopped myself, making it seem like a strange stutter-step in response to her freeing my head. ¡®Jesus fucking Christ, what is wrong with you, Sera?!¡¯ I chastised myself, feeling a hint of desperation. This was definitely not my usual reaction to being touched by somebody¡ªright? ¡°You should now be able to switch between slightly enhanced vision and your Anima vision at will,¡± Miss K nonchalantly explained as she moved toward the door again, thankfully unaware of the tumultuous thoughts inside my head. ¡°I¡¯ll be giving you some exercises to work on at the end of today¡¯s session to teach yourself how to do that. For now, just leave the sprites where they are, so you can actually function properly.¡± Ushering me towards the door with one hand, she opened it with the other. ¡°Let¡¯s go start today¡¯s session. We¡¯re a few minutes late already because of all this. I really dislike waiting and making people wait.¡± I hurried to move past her, but was briefly stopped by a strong hand on my shoulder. She gave me a knowing smirk and added, ¡°Unless you¡¯d prefer a cold shower first? We can start the session without you.¡± A surge of heat rose to my head as I rushed out of the office, Miss K¡¯s melodic laughter trailing behind me into the training hall of the dojo. I quickly made my way over to Kenzie, grateful for the distraction. I lined up next to her, joining the rest of the group already en route to receive today¡¯s session plans from our Sensei. ¡°Hey there, Sera,¡± Kenzie greeted me with a quizzical, half-way concerned tone in her voice. ¡°You okay? You didn¡¯t get into any trouble, did you?¡± I shook my head but remained silent, not trusting myself to speak as I tried to calm down. ¡®She fucking knew all along!¡¯ I thought, utterly mortified. ¡®System, can you please just kill me? This whole second life thing isn¡¯t working out. Too bad, but I gave it a try and decided this ain''t it. Just throw my entire fucking soul in the garbage, please?¡¯ Unfortunately, the System was once again being a goddamn traitor and I did not simply cease to exist in the next moment. Meanwhile, Miss K strode over in her usual gait and stopped a few feet in front of us to give us the rundown for today¡¯s session¡­ Chapter 77 - Training Session ¡°Last time around, you all showed me what you can do as you are right now,¡± Miss K started her rundown as she slowly walked up and down the little line we had created. ¡°It was definitely very eye-opening in a lot of ways.¡± Her eyes met mine with a smirk, and I couldn¡¯t help but cringe at the memory of Kenzie ripping out my eye during our last exchange. I wasn¡¯t the only one; I heard Tom groan quietly and felt Kenzie tense up next to me. ¡°First and foremost, it is very apparent that none of you know what the actual fuck you¡¯re doing when it comes to a fight.¡± She let those words hang for a moment, daring anyone to disagree, but we all wisely kept our mouths shut. None of us knew jack-shit compared to Miss K, and we were all painfully aware of that fact. Seeing no challenges, she nodded to herself with clear satisfaction and continued, ¡°And that¡¯s fine. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here in the first place. If you already knew everything there was to know, then there wouldn¡¯t be a reason for me to exist. So, in a way, your ignorance is the best I can hope for.¡± ¡°Now, as for what we¡¯re doing today: Like I promised last time, there won¡¯t be any one-vs-one fights the same way we did last time around. Instead, we¡¯ll focus on proper conditioning and training. I¡¯ve created a training regimen specifically designed for each of you, both for during our sessions and for you to take home. The in-session training will be more rigorous and harder, but you won¡¯t get anywhere if you think just our time together will be enough to make you into monsters. If you truly want to become one, you¡¯ll have to put in a lot of effort outside of our dojo sessions as well.¡± That was about what I had expected and lined up with everything I knew about muscle training. Three times a week of martial arts training has not made a champion yet, and likely never would. Miss K started handing out data-shards, two for each of us, as she continued to explain her plans. ¡°The blue one is the in-session shard, so slot it in and start internalising what you''ll be doing today. Keep in mind what I said during our first session: There''s a high chance that nobody else in your group will have the exact same training regimen, so don¡¯t come crying to me when you see someone else doing something different¡ªthere¡¯s a reason and a purpose behind the way I¡¯ve designed each and every one of your exercises.¡± Holding up a yellow shard, before depositing it in Jin¡¯s hand, she added, ¡°These yellow ones are for your extracurricular training. They list a bunch of exercises and things you can do outside our sessions to speed up your improvement. While technically not mandatory, I¡¯ll be honest: if you don¡¯t do at least a decent number of them, the rest of the group will outpace you before you know what hit you. If that happens, I will have no choice but to drop you from the dojo until you can get in with the next group¡ªif you¡¯re lucky enough to win the lottery a second time, that is.¡± Her eyes met each of ours in turn, driving home the seriousness of her words. There was no doubt in my mind that she meant it. It made a lot of sense too; you couldn¡¯t exactly have someone lagging behind on physical conditioning in the same group as people way ahead of them. It would make any and all mock-battles not just inefficient, but downright dangerous. Imagining going up against someone like Kenzie, but with her being even just 10% better than me at everything, was an absolute nightmare scenario. I¡¯d lose more than an eye before Miss K could stop the fight, just by virtue of the fact that the physical gap would be way too large between us. Slotting in the blue shard and having its contents expand into the partition that I had created just for it¡ªtaking Kill Joy¡¯s advice to heart, to never, ever trust anyone¡¯s data shards, even if you generally trusted the person that handed it to you¡ªI started browsing through the information provided. To say that it was extensive would be putting it mildly. I was completely flabbergasted by the sheer breadth and depth of the shard¡¯s contents that I saw even at just a glance. The first folder and data-structure I checked out was the one labelled ¡°TODAY¡± by Miss K, and what unfurled before me was nothing short of a thoroughly detailed, step-by-step guide on how to train specific movements and techniques. It wasn¡¯t just a simple ¡°step forward and strike the air¡± or something along those lines either. Each movement had a complete breakdown of which muscle groups would be engaged, to what degree each one would have to be exerted down to a single-digit percentage accuracy to perfectly emulate what Miss K had in mind and even tips on how to get there based on her observations of my control she had seen during the one-vs-one against Kenzie. Reading through one of the comments on a particular move¡ªa spinning pirouette followed by a devastating-looking kick¡ªI couldn¡¯t help but shudder at how incredibly detailed this all was. There were detailed videos of Miss K doing the exact move, recorded from multiple different angles to give us an idea of what we were working towards. ¡°This should be a rather simple move for you to learn, as you¡¯ve already demonstrated good hand-eye-foot coordination in your fight with Kenzie. For starters, you will need to be aware of what this move can do for you and what it can¡¯t: It will allow you to convert a horizontal hit aimed at you into an attack, by converting the kinetic energy into rotational force to use for your own kick. This will not work unless you manage to get them to glance with their hit; if they hit you straight-on, you¡¯ll simply get your ribs broken or worse. But your spacing was quite good against Kenzie, so I¡¯d imagine there won¡¯t be too many issues with this particular move for you, as you¡¯ll generally be at the right distance from the enemy as is anyway¡­¡± It went on and on just like this, giving a full rundown for each and every muscle group, how Miss K thought I was stacking up to what was required already, and giving me targeted advice on how I could get from where I was right now to where I needed to be to copy her movements one-to-one. It was thoroughly intimidating and downright frightening, to see such an in-depth level of analysis of my own capabilities, considering how little time we had actually spent with Miss K as a whole. ¡®How did she even get all of our training regimens done in time? This is way too detailed!¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think as the thought hit me that it wasn¡¯t just me who had received such a shard, but all four of us. ¡®I guess that¡¯s a Grandmaster for you, huh¡­?¡¯ Miss K gave us all another five minutes to peruse the contents of the shards before she abruptly clapped her hands together, the loud noise startling us all into attention. ¡°Alright, I hope that you¡¯ve all gotten a rough idea of what I¡¯ll be expecting from you going forward. For today¡¯s session, simply open the ¡°TODAY¡± folder and start working your way through from top to bottom. If you have any questions, don¡¯t understand something, or require more direct help, do not hesitate to ask. I¡¯m here to help and teach, after all. That said, the majority of today¡¯s session will be self-study, so find yourself a spot on the blue-marked area and start working through what I¡¯ve prepared for you. I¡¯ll call you back when it¡¯s time to move on to the last few minutes of our session today, where we¡¯ll be doing a bit of something else.¡± The dangerous glint in her eyes made me worry a bit about what that ¡°something else¡± might be, but when she shooed us away to get started, I quickly forgot about it in favour of fully diving into the training. The blue shard was an absolute goldmine for me, no matter how I looked at it. My biggest issue with this whole second-life bit so far had been lack of information and proper ways to train. Outside of the System¡¯s knowledge downloads, everything I did was basically just a bastard-amalgamation of self-taught knowledge from my past life and first-hand experience in this life of things that worked well or simply didn¡¯t work at all. This shard, however, laid out everything in such minutiae that I found it hard to even wrap my head around some of the training exercises. A complete 180 from my previous issue, but one I¡¯d gladly try to work my way through, as it promised to be vastly better than my current way of doing things. Putting aside those thoughts for the moment, I opened the cerebral interface again and dived into the ¡°TODAY¡± folder, opening the first exercise for the day and immediately getting stumped. ¡®Really, Miss K¡­?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but groan internally when I read what the exercise was all about. Resigning myself to my fate for the next little while, I started reading and trying my best to internalise Miss K¡¯s advice. In bold letters, it simply said, ¡°LEARN HOW TO THROW A PUNCH.¡±
As it turned out, learning how to throw an actual punch was a lot harder than I had initially thought. Sure, I knew the basics like ¡°don¡¯t put your thumb inside your fist¡± and the general idea of using your full body to transfer momentum into the punch, but having a Grandmaster break down every single mistake you made in excruciating detail was a humbling experience. It took me around fifteen minutes just to get the basic movements right, even with an extremely detailed step-by-step rundown. I was going through the motions at a snail''s pace, not throwing any real punches yet. Another five minutes passed before the movements became ingrained in my head, and I finally started throwing actual punches at a normal speed. Gradually, I began speeding up to see how hard I could really punch using Miss K¡¯s technique. Luckily, the dojo was well-stocked with exercise and training equipment, so I had some real numbers to compare, learn from, and strive for. Miss K had set up a punching bag that featured a wireless cerebral connection, giving me live updates on the strength and speed of my punches, the impact force, and all sorts of useful data that I didn¡¯t fully understand yet. What mattered most to me, though, was the overall force imparted, displayed in psi. At the start of the session, my go-to punch was around 170 psi. Not bad, considering that it was above what the average adult could punch, though not by much. Given my Body attribute of 5, I had some extra muscle density compared to others my age, height, and weight. However, professional athletes in my past life could easily hit upwards of 500 psi, so I knew I had a long way to go before I could consider myself a proper fighter. After my initial dive into today¡¯s lesson and about thirty minutes of work, I tested myself again and was shocked by the difference. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. My punches now consistently hit upwards of 230 psi, and I could tell there was still plenty of room for improvement. Even without Miss K¡¯s intervention, I knew I wasn¡¯t converting all the momentum properly or hitting exactly how I was supposed to. The drastic increase in power was exceptionally exciting. Just as I was getting ready to delve further into improving this aspect, Miss K ordered us to start working on the second set of exercises outlined in the shard. It seemed we were getting around thirty minutes for each exercise, likely to prevent us from getting too tunnel-visioned on any single aspect of training. Now, I was working my way through a series of different martial arts stances, which, to be entirely honest, I had always figured were complete hogwash and only existed for the cameras. In my past life, I had never taken any martial arts classes, so I wasn¡¯t sure what they were even for. However, Miss K¡¯s insistence on their importance quickly made me rethink that impression. If a Grandmaster said they were important, then I didn¡¯t have a leg to stand on pretending they weren¡¯t. The first stance I was supposed to learn was called a ¡°horse stance.¡± I didn¡¯t quite get the name since I had never seen a horse stand like this, but it supposedly provided exceptional defensive capabilities against attacks from the sides. Even though I couldn¡¯t fully grasp why I needed to stand in such a weird way, I followed Miss K¡¯s step-by-step guide to the letter, figuring it would all make sense eventually. Over the next thirty minutes, I went through a series of stances, starting with the ¡°horse,¡± then moving into ¡°front,¡± ¡°crossed leg,¡± and finally, ¡°open leg.¡± My legs burned from holding the stances, my muscles protesting against the thoroughly unfamiliar positions. Despite the discomfort though, I thought that I could feel some kind of benefit of each stance, like they were grounding me or improving my balance¡ªbut that might have just been a self-fulfilling prophecy, by way of my trust in Miss K¡¯s teachings. The stances also all seemed somewhat interconnected, like they were part of the same school of martial art, but since I had no prior knowledge whatsoever, they might as well have been alien for all the good it did me to recognize that. Ultimately, the thirty minutes ended, and Miss K once again ordered us to move on to the next exercises, and I was none the wiser. I had managed to copy the stances to a decent-enough degree, I¡¯d argue, but unlike the earlier lessons about the punches, I already knew that this particular exercise wouldn¡¯t actually help me get better at anything combat-related anytime soon. Moving on to the third exercise for the day, I hoped for something more along the lines of the first but quickly realised it was more stances instead. ¡®What is with these stupid things?! Should I just ask Miss K about them¡­?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think as I sighed ruefully to myself. The idea of walking up to Miss K and asking my questions, however, made my cheeks start heating up as I remembered our earlier interactions. ¡®No¡­ Better not ask stupid questions this early. They will definitely become important at some stage, I¡¯ll just have to power through for now.¡¯ I relied on the fact that the Grandmaster knew more about martial arts than me, and I just had to follow her instructions. There was definitely no other motivation for me to skip out on another one-on-one talk with the Sensei, whatsoever. Not one. Getting started on the new stances quickly proved to be more enlightening than expected. There were a number of them listed here with all kinds of strange names, but it didn¡¯t take a martial arts expert to recognize them as the movements and techniques used by boxers. ¡®I guess boxing is technically a martial art, now that I really think about it,¡¯ I realised as I started assuming the first stance, simply titled ¡°defensive.¡± ¡®Just because the martial art has become popular enough and turned into a full-on sport for show doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not still a martial art.¡¯ I wondered briefly why I was even learning so many different stances from clearly different martial arts all together, but once again decided to defer any questions until a later date. There was bound to be a cohesive, unifying thread throughout all of these exercises that I simply hadn¡¯t quite grasped yet. Miss K didn¡¯t strike me as the type of person to mess around with exercise and training, after all. The following thirty minutes went by in a flash, much to my surprise, as I learned and emulated a lot of the traditional boxing stances and movements. They seemed a whole lot more useful for my current, self-taught style than whatever the ¡°horse¡± stuff had been about beforehand, but I wasn¡¯t exactly going to become a professional-level boxer anytime soon either. Moving onto the fourth exercise for the day at Miss K¡¯s behest, I was happy to find the pirouette-kick move from before. I definitely preferred the direct techniques over the weird stance exercises, no doubt about that¡ªand who could blame me, really? I had to become stronger as fast as possible if I wanted to impress the Operator at the end of the week. I couldn¡¯t exactly impress the guy by going into a fucking ¡°horse¡± stance and just standing there, not even menacingly. But doing a cool-ass pirouette-kick? Now that could be useful and impressive at the same time! As I went through the steps of the pirouette-kick, I focused on maintaining balance and generating power from the rotation, just as Miss K¡¯s notes indicated. Each attempt felt a little more fluid than the last, and I could almost see the improvement with every spin and kick. One of the dojo¡¯s nearby walls had been transformed earlier in the session by Miss K into a full-on mirror-lined wall. This allowed me to watch my form, correcting mistakes in real-time, making each practice more effective. I hadn¡¯t even known that the walls were programmable, but it made a lot of sense in hindsight for purposes just like this. My new, cool pirouette-kick was making steady progress, but I quickly realised that I was going to hit a wall sooner rather than later. I didn¡¯t have the necessary pressure to really imprint the move into my usual combat flow¡ªif one could even call it that; I wasn¡¯t exactly an experienced combatant. I¡¯d need to try it out quite a lot in future combat-focused sessions to really learn how to properly use it. Just as that thought really started to crystallise, however, Miss K¡¯s voice broke me out of my rhythm. ¡°Now then, it¡¯s been about two hours since we started, so it¡¯s time to change things up a bit. All of you should have finished the basics of your fourth exercise and should have run into a bit of a problem, if you were paying attention. Anyone want to elaborate?¡± She looked around expectantly, and Jin raised his hand. Miss K eagerly pointed at him with both hands and he offered a simple, ¡°I need a partner. Can¡¯t learn it on my own. Not really.¡± ¡°Cooooorrrect!¡± Miss K celebrated, giving him two thumbs-up, before turning to the rest of us once again. ¡°The fourth exercise requires a partner by design. And, would you look at that, we have exactly four students here, all needing another partner! If that doesn¡¯t come out to exactly two groups of two¡­! What a coincidence!¡± The whole group was staring intently at Miss K, waiting for her to give us the orders to continue. Nobody reacted to her antics in any way except silently hoping they would end soon. Pouting at the lack of reactions, Miss K shooed us back to the blue-coloured area and told us to group up with the person we fought during our last session, before sitting down on a nearby bench in a thoroughly grumpy fashion. Seeing that, I felt a bit bad, but Kenzie¡¯s voice kept me distracted enough not to worry too much about the strange antics of our Sensei. ¡°So who do we start with? Do you want to go first?¡± Snapping my eyes over to Kenzie, I thought for a moment before replying, ¡°Nah, we can work on yours first. I¡¯ll need to think about how to actually have you act in order to properly train my exercise in the first place. So what do you want me to do?¡± I had no experience in terms of training with other people, so I figured that following Kenzie¡¯s lead, who at least had a big sister that might have taught her a thing or two, would help me get a feel for how I could best benefit from this section of the session. Kenzie started looking around, as if searching for something, before she gestured for me to follow to a more open area of the room. ¡°I¡¯ll need you to fight me, just like you did last time. Specifically the way you kept me from getting close; my current exercise is about a technique that is supposed to help me get close to people, so don¡¯t hold back!¡± She explained with a toothy grin, her canines glinting dangerously in the dojo¡¯s light. ¡°No clawing my eyes out! That shit hurt like hell, last time!¡± I quickly threw in, as I started backing off a bit and taking my usual stance¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to try out any of the new ones quite yet, considering that I had no idea how to even implement them into my usual combat style or what they were even for. ¡°No kicking me in the face either, then! I¡¯m just trying to get close, not actually win a fight. So no need to really lay me out if I mess up, alright?¡± Kenzie replied, laying down the rules for this training session. It all made a lot of sense to me, so I quickly nodded and got myself ready to keep Kenzie at bay as best I could. Being back in the fighting ring with her put me surprisingly at ease, a strange sort of tension falling off of my shoulders that I hadn¡¯t even realised had been there since god-knows-when. We didn¡¯t need anyone to count us down either, as this was all about Kenzie trying to get close and me trying to keep her from doing so. There were a few tense seconds where neither of us really seemed to know how to get started, but then, Kenzie dashed forward and we were off to the races. I kicked, punched, jumped, and dashed to keep Kenzie away from me as she continuously tried to close the gap just like she had in the last session. I hit her primarily in the legs and chest, but every once in a while, I¡¯d hit her face just because it was the only thing I could really reach at the time¡ªmuch to her chagrin, but she didn¡¯t call foul at any point, realising that I wasn¡¯t doing it on purpose just to mess with her. Her movements were about the same as I remembered and my [Martial Arts] muscle memory was more than enough to keep her at bay for now. As we started really getting warm, however, Kenzie¡¯s movements changed more and more and I could tell that she was starting to lean into whatever it was that Miss K had prepared for her in the blue shard. Her movements kept getting faster and faster, and my attempts at keeping her at bay grew increasingly desperate. It felt like a replay of our last fight¡ªonce Kenzie got warm, her speed was terrifying and incredibly hard to counter. I was just barely managing to keep her at bay, my muscles straining with every move. Then, suddenly, she stopped in a crouched position, her feet practically digging into the mats below us as her powerful legs coiled up like a spring. The split second it took her to prepare was not enough time for me to come up with a viable plan of escape, despite the fact that it was fairly apparent as to what she was going for. Pushing off the ground, Kenzie practically flew at me through the air, pouncing like a tiger on its prey. I tried my best to hit her mid-air, kicking as fast and hard as I could, but Kenzie had anticipated my move. She twisted in mid-air like a cat, blocking my kick with her elbow before crashing into my midsection with her shoulder and pushing me to the ground. ¡°Yeees!¡± she celebrated, sitting triumphantly on top of my belly as I heaved for air. The impact had completely knocked the wind out of me. Throwing Kenzie off me, which proved surprisingly easy, I rolled to the side and tried my best to regain some semblance of control over my oxygen levels while Kenzie continued to celebrate her victory. ¡°Nice move,¡± I managed to gasp out, still trying to catch my breath. Kenzie grinned down at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°Thanks! That was the new one Sensei wanted me to learn¡ªshe said I sucked at getting close, so I needed something more explosive, so I can actually use my claws. Looks like it worked pretty well!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but laugh despite the ache in my ribs. ¡°Yeah, no kidding. You pounced like a freaking tiger or something. I hope you got some more moves in there, though, because I guarantee this one won¡¯t work the same way twice.¡± ¡°You bet!¡± Kenzie replied with a big smile and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, feeling the camaraderie between us grow stronger. ¡°You did great, though. I really hate how good you are at keeping me out. My legs are killing me from all the kicks. Maybe you could give my shins a break next time?¡± As I got back on my feet, I knew I¡¯d have to step up my game to keep up with Kenzie¡¯s relentless improvements. But that was exactly what made the dojo sessions so exhilarating. We were pushing each other to new heights, learning and growing with every sparring session. ¡°I can always go back to kicking you in the face,¡± I offered with a serious look on my face. Kenzie¡¯s grimace told me all I needed to know, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Alright, my turn. I just need you to fight me like you did earlier, and I¡¯ll see where I can fit in my own new technique. Oh, and feel free to use that tiger-pounce thing again. Let¡¯s see if I can¡¯t find a counter to it in today¡¯s session already,¡± I said with a determined grin, ready to see just how hard Miss K¡¯s new move was going to be to implement for me¡­ Chapter 78 - Challenge Kenzie and I eyed each other for a few moments, neither of us wanting to charge into the next bout before the other was ready. It didn¡¯t take long for the both of us to understand that we were both waiting for the other to give any indication that they weren¡¯t ready yet, so we once again immediately got to it. Kenzie tried to close the distance, just as she always did, and I tried my best to keep her out with a series of long-range kicks and punches, primarily aimed at whatever she presented as the closest target or her legs. Targeting the legs was something that I had done during our sparring sessions as well, although it had never really seemed to pan out in the way that I had hoped: Slowing Kenzie down. Her legs were simply too powerful for the amount of damage that I could output with my infrequent kicks, to truly put a dent into her ridiculous speed. That said, it was still my best bet to target them, simply because the rest of her body was a lot harder to hit. Her upper body movements were erratic and difficult to predict in the fractions of seconds that I had to react to her coming in, but her legs were always guaranteed to be at the same place¡ªshe hadn¡¯t quite figured out how to levitate quite yet, although judging by her burning desire to improve, it was only a matter of time until she inevitably did find a way. During our initial probing exchanges, in which I tried to ascertain whether Kenzie would use her new move early on or whether she would try to sneak it in later in our bout, I simultaneously tried to come up with a good timing to use Miss K¡¯s recommended move. ¡®I need her to swipe at me, to really make this work¡­¡¯ The problem with that, however, was that Kenzie was primarily trying to close the gap to apply her claws directly to my face, if the last dojo session was anything to go by. She wasn¡¯t particularly trying to throw out any punches or swipes to whittle me down, as she very much knew that the second she managed to get close and I couldn¡¯t push her away immediately, she would win¡ªI had no recourse for her claws whatsoever; not when she wasn¡¯t completely out of energy like she had been the last time we tussled on the ground. ¡®If she isn¡¯t going to do it naturally, then I¡¯ll have to bait her into doing so. But how exactly do I bait her into trying to swipe at me more¡­?¡¯ I thought to myself, as I kicked at her left thigh once more, before dashing back to keep my distance once again. Miss K¡¯s notes had, strangely enough, not listed any sort of direct hints in regard to Kenzie¡¯s combat style or how to goad her into doing what I wanted, which seemed like a deliberate choice rather than some form of oversight. It was most likely a sort of test from our Sensei to make sure that we didn¡¯t simply rely on her to give us all the answers, considering that she wouldn¡¯t be there to give us direct one-on-one coaching for the rest of our lives with every enemy we might ever face. While I intellectually understood the reasoning, it still annoyed the hell out of me. I wasn¡¯t exactly a combat guru¡ªthis being pretty much the second-ever fight I had ever been in; the first one being the very last dojo session. In my last life, I had ended up in a few physical altercations as well, but they weren¡¯t exactly what you¡¯d call a ¡°fight¡±¡ªthat word, to me, implied that both parties were participating to a reasonable degree. Getting sucker-punched in the back of the head or kicked while I was down wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d call a fight. Quickly dodging sideways and lashing out with another punch aimed at Kenzie¡¯s midsection, causing her to veer off-path to avoid getting hit for free and granting me the distance I so very much required when facing her, I threw out those distracting thoughts. ¡®You don¡¯t have time for reminiscing about the worst times of your past life right now, Sera. Focus on the problem: How do we make use of Miss K¡¯s move? There¡¯s gotta be a fairly easy way, otherwise, she would have never led with that move in particular, right¡­?¡¯ Kenzie seemed to sense my momentary distraction and closed the gap again, forcing me to retreat with a series of quick jabs and feints that sapped more and more of my energy. That was the worst part of our bouts in my eyes. No matter how many times I kept Kenzie at bay, I had to use a lot of focus and effort to do so, while she simply continued pushing. I was expending more energy keeping her away than she did getting close, so in a battle of attrition, I was practically bound to lose. The only reason I could even keep up with her last time around was the fact that I had a Body of 5, which gave me quite a lot more stamina than your average girl my age. Feeling sweat starting to drip down my forehead as the compounded energy expenditure became more and more problematic, I kept evading and throwing counterattacks. A realisation slowly began to coalesce in my mind. ¡®The reason she¡¯s going for these all-or-nothing dashes is because I¡¯m not giving her any other choice¡­!¡¯ Watching Kenzie intently on our next exchange, I paid extra close attention to the exact distance that I normally retreated to. In the brief lull before Kenzie moved again, I confirmed my suspicion: I was too far away for her to do anything but go for a dash-in and try to end it in one big attack. ¡®I can see how I got here, since last time we fought I was trying to win, and getting her mad enough to go for the all-or-nothing move allowed me to go for my own before I ran out of energy, giving me a decent chance to come out ahead. But if I want this to be a more calculated back and forth, then I¡¯ll have to let her close in slightly more, won''t I?¡¯ With renewed focus and a plan in mind, I started to slowly reduce the distance between us with every exchange, letting Kenzie get closer and closer with every dash that I countered. It wasn¡¯t easy, especially since my instincts screamed at me to keep as much space between us as possible, but I forced myself to stick to the plan. Each time she lunged, I allowed her just a bit more room, keeping her at bay but not pushing her too far back. Immediately, I could see why I had been hesitant to close the distance at first. The decreased range gave Kenzie¡¯s dashes a lot more power¡ªI didn¡¯t have quite as much time to react and keep her at bay. But I also realised that the closer proximity provided me with more countering options in-turn. Where previously I had to rely on max-range punches and kicks, which lost a lot of their impact due to the extended reach, the reduced distance allowed me to put more force behind each of my counters. The whole bout suddenly became a lot more intense and brutal. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out repeatedly, and I was panting heavily as my energy reserves began to drop rapidly due to the increased effort needed to keep up with Kenzie¡¯s speed at the closer range. Just when I thought I might have made a mistake by allowing her to get this close, however, I noticed Kenzie starting to slow down a bit. Her movements weren¡¯t as quick and precise as before, and a brief flinch crossed her face before she could hide the pain. ¡®My kicks are finally starting to work!¡¯ I thought with elation, watching her stumble slightly on her next attempt to get in with her claws. The added power from the reduced range was letting my Body 5 kicks shine, putting the hurt on Kenzie¡¯s powerful legs, which I had been targeting for the past few minutes, kick after kick. After another two exchanges, Kenzie abruptly stopped charging at me entirely, instead circling me slowly but surely. I almost expected a dialogue to start between us, but we were both too focused on each other¡¯s movements to waste any brain power on speaking. Kenzie began to feint dashes, quickly moving to the left or right and faking charges from various angles she hadn¡¯t considered before. But I was locked in and managed to punish her with more painful kicks to the legs every time. More than once, it seemed like she was going for her newly learned move, but whenever she started to coil up, I quickly dashed in myself and threw a punch or a kick, netting myself a free counter without putting myself at risk. This newly reduced range proved surprisingly effective for me. It gave me a lot more options to handle her movements, even though the overall energy expenditure and focus required at this closer range were vastly higher and quickly tiring me out. As I fended off another one of Kenzie¡¯s newly minted ideas¡ªthis one involving a low dash that ended with her getting punched in the ribs¡ªI finally got a taste of what I was looking for. My punch connected with her ribs, and as I jumped back to regain my new preferred distance, one of her claws swiped at me, almost catching me off-guard and tearing into my uniform. At the last moment, I managed to put my arm between her claws and my stomach, pushing her attack away and earning only some minor scratches on my right arm. Seeing the trace amounts of red liquid on her claws, Kenzie¡¯s eyes glinted with mischief¡ªan idea clearly forming in her mind. Before I could fully ready myself, the fox-girl darted forward again. This time, instead of trying to tackle me to the ground or get close enough to put both claws on me, she twisted out of the way of my countering kick and swiped at me with her left claw. Eyes wide, scrambling to get a leg or an arm between Kenzie¡¯s claws and my more vulnerable parts, I barely managed to defend, earning myself another bloody gash. Just a moment later, Kenzie was already closing in for another swipe. Having tasted blood and recognized how her claws were actually decently effective at this new range, she threw out swipe after swipe with rabid abandon. My initial plan to use these swipes to commit to my new move was put on the backburner as I struggled to keep her hands off of me without the additional mental overhead of trying to find an opening. The relentless assault invariably forced me to think on my feet once again. It was clear that I couldn''t just keep defending; I needed to find a way to turn the tide¡ªand quickly. Breathing heavily, I punched away another of Kenzie¡¯s swipes before I jumped backwards, trying to buy myself a few precious seconds to think. Unfortunately, Kenzie seemed to realise my intention. She immediately went into her crouched, coiled position, readying herself to use her new move, forcing me to dash in again to stop her. ¡®Fuck! Why is she so good at this?!¡¯ My breath came hot and heavy, and rivers of sweat dripped off me with every movement as I was forced back into defending against Kenzie¡¯s relentless swipes. My arms and legs were covered in scratches, but so far, I had managed to keep her claws away from my torso and face. Realising that I was running low on options and energy, I decided to go for an all-or-nothing gamble. It wasn¡¯t exactly what Miss K had in mind when she taught me this move, but I simply lacked the experience to figure out how and when to use it effectively. Kenzie¡¯s constant swipes were too fast to defend against while also trying to set up my own moves. I couldn¡¯t find any time to think about a way to get out of this situation after putting myself into it. As Kenzie moved in for the next swipe, I took a deep breath and readied myself for a bout of pain. Instead of punching away her incoming swipe as I usually did, I let her attack sail through. I saw a mixture of confusion, elation, and terror in Kenzie¡¯s face as her claws continued onwards past where I would have normally intercepted them. Meanwhile, I stepped back as fast as I could, slightly increasing the range between us in the fraction of a second it took for her swipe to connect. And connect it did, her claws colliding with the left side of my rib cage, digging deep into my flesh but just missing any important organs due to the slightly increased distance I had managed to put between us. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Using the momentum of the hit as I suppressed a cry of pain, I twirled on one foot, putting my all into every muscle¡¯s movement to emulate Miss K¡¯s move from the blue shard as best as possible. After a full 360-degree turn, my right foot connected with Kenzie¡¯s legs. My aim was completely off, as I had tried to hit her somewhere centre-mass, but it had enough oomph behind it to kick her legs out from under her with a loud crash, sending her spiralling and falling to the ground, her head hitting the mat hard as her arms were still extended from the swipe, unable to stop her fall. My legs lost all strength as I breathed out heavily in pain and similarly crashed to the floor, the leftover momentum from the pirouette kick unbalancing me enough to lose my footing. As I lay there, gasping for breath and clutching my injured side, I saw Kenzie groaning and trying to push herself up, a dazed look in her eyes. ¡°Damn, Sera,¡± she muttered, wincing as she touched the back of her head. ¡°That was one hell of a move. Didn¡¯t see that coming at all. Fuck, that hurts!¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± I replied, still trying to deal with the pain and heavily breathing in through gritted teeth, ¡°neither did I, honestly.¡± A third voice broke through our groans of pain, ¡°It¡¯s always fascinating to watch the two of you. There¡¯s a certain level of sophistication that¡¯s downright impressive, but then, at the same time, it seems like you¡¯re missing some absolute fundamentals to tie everything together, leading to complete nonsense like whatever the fuck that just was.¡± Kenzie and I both looked up at a broadly grinning Miss K, who had sauntered over at some point. ¡°I gave the both of you some new moves to try out but purposefully didn¡¯t include any explanation on how to get to the point where you can reliably use them.¡± Miss K looked towards Kenzie and elaborated, ¡°For you, I had you rely on your strong legs to really power-dash towards an enemy that¡¯s too far away for you to use your claws. But you quickly realised it doesn¡¯t work if the enemy is even slightly closer than what Sera usually kept you at. The enemy can simply dash in themselves and punch you in the mouth for badly timed attempts, as Sera so neatly demonstrated. You¡¯ll need to figure out whether you want to commit to the move and back away from the enemy yourself or not rely on it and instead work on other avenues to get ahead. The indecision you demonstrated here would have gotten you killed very quickly in a real fight. If Sera hadn¡¯t been nice enough to aim for your legs or centre mass, or heavens forbid, used a knife, you would have been in big trouble.¡± Turning her attention to me, Miss K¡¯s eyes met mine. ¡°And for you, Sera, you had the right idea but focused too much on using the new move specifically. While the task was to figure out how to use them in a real fight, concluding with an answer of ¡®It¡¯s hard and I don¡¯t know how to get there¡¯ is a completely viable answer to the task. Risking yourself the way you did at the end there would never work against an opponent you aren¡¯t as comfortable with as you are with Kenzie. If you had even slightly misjudged anything, her claws would have ripped out your lungs and you¡¯d be dead.¡± Offering us both a hand, Miss K easily pulled us back up from the ground and gestured toward the first-aid area of the dojo. ¡°Go get yourselves fixed up and rest for half an hour. We still have another half-hour to go once you¡¯re back, and I have something fun planned; try to get back up to at least 70%.¡± With those words, Miss K left and headed over to the other side of the blue-coloured area, where Jin and Tom were sparring. Their match looked a lot more civilised than the one Kenzie and I had just finished, judging by the lack of blood on the ground. Kenzie limped toward the first-aid area, and I slowly followed by her side, clutching my bleeding left side and shallowly breathing to keep the pain down. We both stayed silent, chewing over Miss K¡¯s words. Finally, as we reached the first-aid station, Kenzie broke the silence. ¡°She¡¯s right, you know. I was so frustrated with myself that I didn¡¯t know what to do. Being slightly closer together made all of your kicks hurt so fucking much, I can barely stand, even now. If you hadn¡¯t held back like that, I would¡¯ve lost way before I figured out I could use my claws at that range¡­ I¡¯m way too one-dimensional, aren¡¯t I?¡± There was a definite hint of frustration and self-loathing in her voice, which rubbed me the wrong way, but I could understand where she was coming from all too well. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly the paragon of smart decisions either, let¡¯s be real. My idea was to get you to swipe at me so I could kick you with that new move, but the moment I actually got you to swipe at me, you simply didn¡¯t stop. I had no idea how to get out of that situation at all, even though it was my idea,¡± I answered with a few pained breaths in between each sentence, my injured side sending jolts of sharp pain through my body at regular intervals. ¡°Like Miss K said, if I didn¡¯t know you as well as I did from our last bouts, I would have definitely died trying to get out of that situation with such a risky move¡­ I just couldn¡¯t think of any other way to get to use the move.¡± Kenzie nodded, her face scrunched up in thought. ¡°Yeah, I get it. It¡¯s like we¡¯re both trying to force these new techniques without really knowing when or how to use them. I mean, I¡¯m pretty much just a one-trick pony with my claws too. I need to figure out how to diversify my attacks¡ªlike Miss K said last session. I need to use my legs more, but it just feels weird, when I have claws, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t really, no,¡± I replied with a chuckle, holding up my non-clawed hands. Turning more serious, I added, ¡°But I think I can imagine. It¡¯s like punching someone when you could use a knife instead, right? Way more effective to just cut up somebody than try to blunt-force them to death¡­ But at the end of the day, we¡¯re both here to learn, right?¡± I said with a small smile. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out eventually. Just gotta keep practising and not get too frustrated with ourselves in the process.¡± She laughed, a sound that was more wheeze than giggle given her state. ¡°True that. And hey, at least we¡¯re both stubborn as shit. That¡¯s gotta count for something.¡± Both of us turned quiet and contemplative afterward, as we started applying various bandages, ointments, and compressions to ourselves. I helped Kenzie apply a cold compress to her head, and she returned the favour by putting some coagulant onto the open wounds on my left-hand side, which made me nearly pass out from pain. After we were fixed up as best as we could manage in our current states, we both sat down on the ground, our legs unable to carry us any longer. The dojo was filled with the sounds of other pairs sparring and the occasional barked command from Miss K, but we were in our own little world for the moment. Kenzie broke the silence again, this time with a more relaxed tone. ¡°You know, despite the pain and everything, I¡¯m really glad we¡¯re doing this. Feels like we¡¯re actually getting somewhere, even if it¡¯s slow.¡± I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. ¡°Yeah, same here. It¡¯s tough, but we¡¯re definitely making some sort of progress, I¡¯d like to believe. Plus, it¡¯s kinda fun in a weird, masochistic way.¡± She grinned, leaning back on her hands. ¡°Absolutely. Here¡¯s to not dying and kicking some serious ass in the future.¡± ¡°Cheers to that,¡± I replied with a chuckle. We both sat there, taking a moment to breathe and recuperate before heading back to face whatever Miss K had planned for us in the last thirty minutes of today¡¯s session. I took a brief moment of respite to check over the gains for today¡¯s session. I knew I had levelled up at least two Skills during our previous bouts¡ªthankfully, they weren''t nearly as impactful as [Martial Arts] Levels were, otherwise, I would have likely gotten knocked off my feet again.
[System]: 1,100xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: [Athletics] Skill has reached Level 4. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: [Acrobatics] Skill has reached Level 3. Gained one [Acrobatics] Perk Point. [System]: 300xp gained for [CQC] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
Seeing the vast array of experience gains sent a warm, fuzzy feeling through my body. ¡®Numbers that go brrr are very satisfying, I do have to say,¡¯ I thought to myself with a smile. The [Athletics] and [Acrobatics] downloads had been surprisingly, and thankfully, tame in comparison to other Skills, mostly dealing with some theoretical knowledge about stamina usage and proper movements. The vast majority of both, however, had been muscle memory that had been seamlessly integrated into my body without much hassle. It was strange to see how easily the muscle memory for those two Skills was integrated when compared to something like [{Anima Razor}]. ¡®I wonder if it¡¯s because I already do a lot of those movements during my daily runs and workouts¡­? Maybe there¡¯s a bit of synergy there between the System¡¯s downloads and my own pre-existing muscle memory?¡¯ Putting those thoughts aside for now, I quickly perused the Perk selection for the [Acrobatics] Skill. I¡¯d have to make a choice on it sooner rather than later, but I also wanted to check whether there was anything new available compared to what I knew the Skill offered in the game.
[Parkour Mastery] (Acrobatics) Over and Under! You gain the ability to navigate the environment more fluidly, chaining moves like wall-runs, vaults, and jumps without losing speed. Knowledge and muscle-memory is determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
[Roll With It] (Acrobatics) Are they a fucking goblin or something?! You gain the ability to reduce stun time and damage dealt after being hit or knocked down by rolling with the impact, allowing you to get back into action faster or avoiding follow-up attacks.
[Aerial Combat] (Acrobatics) It¡¯s like fighting someone on a pogo-stick! You gain the ability to confer more of your upwards momentum into attacks, drastically enhancing their power if you attack while in mid-air.
[Cat¡¯s Grace] (Acrobatics) Land like a feather, even from great heights! You gain the ability to expertly manage the impact of a fall, significantly diminishing the damage incurred from high drops, provided you are agile and able to manoeuvre your body during a portion of the descent and upon immediate impact.
[Air Dodge] (Acrobatics) Like a cat! You gain the ability to execute movements in mid-air with vastly enhanced precision, avoiding projectiles or closing distance to an enemy with greater ease.
Silently nodding to myself, I recognized the Perk options from Neon Dragons. I closed the Perk selection for now, figuring I''d make a choice later when I had more time to think it through. For now, Kenzie and I were being waved over by a dangerously excited-looking Miss K, so we hurried over to join her and the boys. The thirty minutes of recovery had worked wonders for both of us. We managed to get there without limping or looking like we were in pain, which I considered a major win. ¡°Good to see you two back on your feet,¡± Miss K greeted us with a toothy grin. ¡°We¡¯ve got about thirty minutes left in today¡¯s session, so I figured we¡¯d make those really fun.¡± Out of nowhere, she produced a syringe filled with a green liquid. ¡°This is a neat little medication created by Ether Labs called SuVi Max.¡± Jin¡¯s eyes widened and Kenzie gasped, cluing me in that this was something special. I, however, had never heard of it, so I stayed silent and curious. Miss K''s grin widened as she took in Jin and Kenzie¡¯s reactions. ¡°As some of you seem to know, it¡¯s quite the expensive little stim. For those of you not in the know: SuVi Max is one of the high-end products that Ether Labs produces. It¡¯s sold at exorbitant prices, and for good reason. Using it permanently increases a person¡¯s physical conditioning¡ªlike a steroid, but with permanent effects and no side effects.¡± Now my curiosity was piqued. A permanent upgrade? Any gamer would jump at the chance for something like that. It was a no-brainer to want as many of those as possible. ¡°You can only enjoy a few of these over your lifetime, no matter how many Credits you have,¡± Miss K continued, her tone turning a bit colder. ¡°The medication will straight up kill you if you take more than one every five years. So, don¡¯t go asking your benefactors to get you a truckload of them.¡± Her chuckle had an edge to it, suggesting she was speaking from experience rather than a mere hypothetical. ¡°Now, I¡¯m not just showing you this to rub it in your face, no, no. This little beauty will be the reward for our last thirty minutes here. The rules are simple: You will all fight me together, and whoever manages to land a hit gets the SuVi Max. No strings attached.¡± With that, the injector disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Miss K spread her arms wide, inviting an attack and we all stood around her in a circle, utterly dumbfounded by her abrupt challenge. ¡®What¡­? Fight her¡­?¡¯ The four of us exchanged uncertain glances, not sure how to react. We couldn¡¯t exactly go and fight our teacher, right? But then again, she was a Grandmaster, so the chances of us hurting her were practically zero. Still, the idea of fighting the person teaching us how to fight felt backwards and problematic. My eyes met Kenzie¡¯s, and I saw my own questions reflected in hers. Meeting her gaze, however, seemed to spark something in both of us; something our earlier talks had sowed the seeds for¡ªa desire to improve. We ever-so-gently nodded to each other in a tacit understanding: We would give it our all, no matter what. Without a word, Kenzie and I immediately dashed at Miss K in the next moment, who stood in the centre of the half-circle we had created around her. We aimed to land a hit and earn ourselves a permanent upgrade¡­ Chapter 79 - Basics Dashing towards Miss K and throwing a gauging kick felt thoroughly strange, but Kenzie and I were determined to try our very best right off the bat. Our Sensei simply shifted slightly to the side, dodging both my horizontal kick aimed at her midsection and Kenzie¡¯s swipe aimed at her head in one smooth motion. Not wanting to waste the momentum of the kick, I pivoted on my left leg and sent another kick sailing through the air towards Miss K, while Kenzie pushed off the ground to stop her momentum and leapt towards her, claws outstretched and clawing for Miss K¡¯s face. The gentle, utterly unconcerned smile on Miss K¡¯s face told us all we needed to know about our chances of connecting. A leisurely applied punch to Kenzie¡¯s shoulder sent her completely off course and careening onto the dojo floor. Miss K then used the same hand to simply rip my leg up into the air, killing my attack¡¯s momentum dead and sending me falling backward onto the ground with a thump. The two of us groaned, dealing with the immediate after-effects of getting laid out. Our ¡°bravery¡± seemed to have jostled Tom and Jin into action, however, as the two boys started their own series of attacks. Not even a second later, they joined us on the dojo floor with a series of groans. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± Miss K offered with a grin. ¡°I said I¡¯d give you the chance to earn it, not that I was going to make it easy. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re already demoralised after just a single exchange or two?¡± Naturally, none of us were. As intimidating as it was to get laid out without your opponent even taking a step from where they started or even really trying, it was also an exceptionally worthwhile learning opportunity. We wouldn¡¯t always be the top dogs in every situation we ran into, so it was just as important to learn what it was like to fight someone so unfathomably out of your league that it seemed like a joke, as it was to learn the basics and fundamentals¡ªwhich Miss K still hadn¡¯t really gotten around to, I noted. All four pairs of our eyes met as we tried to figure out what to do about the Grandmaster in our midst, but nobody seemed particularly willing to take the first shot at her. Figuring that there really wasn¡¯t any use trying to wait for each other to start, since we were just as likely to get laid out now as we would be five seconds later, I slowly moved up¡ªarms raised in a bit of a boxing stance, emulating Miss K¡¯s stance training from earlier that day. If I could draw her attention for even just a moment, it might give the others enough time to sneak a hit in if they all attacked at the same time¡ªor at least those were my thoughts at the moment. I didn¡¯t actually believe any of it, but I needed to tell myself that in order to get my body to move into a position where Miss K could slap me silly. I stopped paying attention to the others in my group and exclusively focused on Miss K, trying to discern if there was any opening she might have left for us to exploit. I was under no illusion that we would ever be able to find one if she chose not to leave one, but I hadn¡¯t exactly pegged Miss K as someone that would be posing impossible challenges. Not to mention she seemed utterly obsessed with fun. She struck me as the kind of person who wouldn''t do anything unless it promised a certain amount of entertainment in return, unless absolutely necessary. And there was absolutely no fun to be had in a fight where you couldn¡¯t lose. So it only followed that Miss K might be giving us a massive handicap of some sort that we could exploit to actually win this thing¡ªit seemed very much in character for her. Taking a deep breath, I continued to advance cautiously, keeping my stance tight and ready while keeping my eyes peeled for any such openings. With Miss K¡¯s amber eyes trained on me, the rest of the group seemed more willing to throw in their hats as Jin, Tom, and Kenzie approached the Grandmaster with careful steps as well. None of us had any real idea how to work as a group, but we would need to in order to have any chance at making this a successful challenge. Luckily, it seemed that Tom had a bit of a strategist¡¯s streak, as he started signalling the other two members of the group with simple hand gestures about how he thought they should try this. It wasn¡¯t a full-on conversation in sign language nor anything as fancy as tactical signing used by Operators, law enforcement, or soldiers, but it seemed to get the job done as I saw Jin and Kenzie nod earnestly out of the corner of my eyes. Miss K¡¯s eyes were still trained on me, which meant she shouldn¡¯t have been able to see their short planning session¡ªdefinitely another concession on her part, as there was no way a trained combatant like her would simply leave three enemies out of her sight like this for any period of time. Seeing that the rest of the group was ready to strike, I threw a quick feint, following up immediately with a low jab aimed at her midsection. As expected, she simply deflected the quick punch to the side before sending me to the floor by hooking one of her feet around my own in a lightning-fast motion and pulling. The brief moment it took her to lay me out opened up a window for the others. Jin and Kenzie lunged forward simultaneously, their attacks surprisingly coordinated to force Miss K to divide her attention. In a blur of motion, she parried Jin¡¯s punch similarly to how she had mine while sidestepping Kenzie¡¯s swipe, effortlessly maintaining that playful smile. Meanwhile, Tom seized the opportunity and dashed in, aiming a swift kick at her legs. Miss K, however, seemed to be downright toying with us. She simply hopped without even looking in Tom¡¯s direction, stepping over his kick with such ease it almost seemed like she had eyes in the back of her head. With a flurry of motion, she grabbed an arm of both Jin and Kenzie before throwing them to the ground in the same full-body movement that allowed her to kick at Tom¡¯s legs as well, the instant she landed. All three of them sprawled onto the floor simultaneously, their combined thumps and groans almost making me laugh. It was like one of those terrible anime moments that showed just how powerful a newly introduced character was¡ªexcept we were the mooks used to show it. Despite the failed attempts, there was a sense of progress. We had managed a somewhat coordinated attack without really having talked about it beforehand. And, most importantly of all, Miss K had actually briefly left the position she had started fighting us in. ¡®No "You won¡¯t get me to move from this spot" today, huh?¡¯ I thought to myself with a grin that I didn¡¯t realise I had on my face until just now. This was strangely fun, like fighting an impossibly difficult boss and dying to them over and over again while trying to learn their moveset. Much like in those games, we only needed to get it right once¡ªMiss K had to be perfect every single time. It seemed that I wasn¡¯t the only one with similar thoughts as the rest of the group was similarly pumped up rather than discouraged, which only seemed to fire up our Sensei even further. ¡°Come on, don¡¯t keep me waiting like this. It¡¯s rude!¡± she taunted with a toothy smile, her arms wide and goading us to take a stab at her. The next ten minutes were spent with us trying different avenues of approach, with different people playing the bait or even none of us being bait at all and simply attacking at the same time. Each and every attempt ended in the exact same fashion: With us on the floor, groaning about some new bruises being added to the old ones. By the twelfth attempt, we were all sweating buckets, panting heavily, but our determination was unwavering. The floor had become a patchwork of wet spots that were seeping into the mats where each of us had fallen, only to rise and try again. We were once again standing in a circle around Miss K, but none of us had any idea what to do next¡ªour attempts weren¡¯t getting any closer to hitting her, and we were fresh out of strategies. I had spent the entire session trying to find any sort of opening, but I was just as clueless as when we started. Well not quite as clueless¡ªI had the beginnings of an idea. Finding boss patterns had always been my thing in video games, so it didn¡¯t take long for me to notice the massive difference in how Miss K reacted to my punches compared to my kicks. ¡®Every time I punch her, she simply deflects it,¡¯ I thought, using our recovery time to brainstorm. ¡®But when I kick, she doesn¡¯t even bother looking my way and just lays me out immediately; with my punches, she at least gives me another shot about half the time...¡¯ It was clear that Miss K was goading me into using my punches more, but I couldn¡¯t tell whether it was because they were easier for her to defend against or if there was something else going on. Ultimately, I had to bite the bullet and make an educated guess. Doing the same thing over and over wouldn¡¯t get us anywhere, after all. With a new idea in mind, I readied myself into my newly learned boxing stance and slowly crept up, visually confirming the readiness of the rest of the group. We had taken turns being bait and even come up with some simple non-verbal signs to indicate if one of us wanted to try something different. When Miss K briefly looked around to size us up, I gave the rest of the group the signal that I needed them to buy me a moment. Jin and Tom reacted immediately, giving almost imperceptible nods my way as they moved closer to each other, like a two-man tag team about to execute a wrestling move. That managed to draw Miss K¡¯s attention, giving me a precious moment out of her sight to prepare my next move. My punches were too easily deflected, but Miss K seemed to encourage more of them. It only followed that I needed to put more power behind them, making them harder to deflect as effortlessly. Running through the motions in my head, muscle-by-muscle, I readied myself for a full-body punch¡ªthe very thing the blue shard had taught me earlier in the session. As I watched Jin and Tom spin through the air towards the floor once again, I was already mid-movement. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I threw my right fist toward Miss K¡¯s midsection with everything I had, twisting my body, stepping forward slightly, and pushing my full bodyweight behind the punch just as the shard had instructed. A loud slap rang out as my fist connected with Miss K¡¯s open palm, briefly pushing against it before she redirected it to the side, unbalancing me and following up with a quick kick that sent me to the floor. My eyes were wide with surprise. This reaction was entirely different from what she had done to my punches so far. When Kenzie¡¯s attack came in, Miss K sidestepped just in time to lay her out as well, but I noticed she had moved ever-so-slightly later than usual. Having to defend against my punch had put just enough strain on her to allow Kenzie¡¯s attack to pile on, rather than Miss K simply deflecting and twirling through us like smoke through a grate. ¡®That¡¯s gotta be it, then,¡¯ I realised with a smile. ¡®The initial moves she taught us at the start of the session; lesson one on the shard. They¡¯re the key to getting her to show an opening, aren¡¯t they?¡¯ I was all too aware that I might be grasping at straws, but I couldn¡¯t believe that someone like Miss K, a Grandmaster of Martial Arts, would ever let coincidences or freak events impact her actions. In my mind, she operated on a level that far transcended humanity. Any ¡°coincidences¡± I noticed had to be deliberately created by her to teach us something. Just to confirm my suspicions one more time, I signalled the rest of the group to go again and provide me with another opening. Seconds later, our groans marked another failed attempt, but I had a massive grin on my face: Miss K had reacted in the same way as last time¡ªit was not a freak event. When we all got back up on our feet for what felt like the four hundredth time today, I gestured for them all to get close enough for a quick huddle. ¡°I think I figured out a way for us to get a hit in,¡± I started, gathering a row of eyebrow raises at my assertion. Turning towards my sparring partner, I asked, ¡°Kenzie, what was the first lesson on your blue shard today?¡± ¡°Ehh¡­ A drill on how to throw proper kicks. I¡¯m more claw-based so it¡¯s not really that useful, but in a pinch, I can definitely see where they might come in handy,¡± she elaborated with a shrug, her confusion evident. ¡°Jin, what about you?¡± I asked the cybernetically enhanced boy. ¡°Feints,¡± he simply replied, not going into detail at first. Our combined stares prompted a sigh and a bit more information. ¡°I always use the same arm for attacks since it¡¯s my strong one. Miss K wants me to learn how to use that to create feints and hit with my other arm instead.¡± Tom, catching on quickly, offered intel on his own lesson unprompted. ¡°It was a drill about using my arms and legs more equally. Since I¡¯m a bit of an all-rounder, she wanted me to really dial up the amount of mix-ups that I use; I generally just tend to default to one or two different patterns.¡± Turning his attention squarely towards me, he followed up, ¡°Where are you going with this, Sera? It¡¯s all just basic stuff that she wants us to learn. How does this play into the challenge?¡± ¡°They are the key,¡± I simply stated with a grin, which earned me confused looks all around. Miss K was right, stating things that nobody else knew what the hell they meant really was fun. Kenzie narrowed her eyes after a quick roll of them. ¡°Care to elaborate on that, mystery girl?¡± ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the deal,¡± I began. ¡°Let me ask you this: Do any of you honestly believe we stand a chance at hitting her, even if we try to use 100% of our best moves? We¡¯re not trained fighters, but each of us has a natural style, right? Do you really think we¡¯ll hit her if we just keep trying what we¡¯re comfortable with?¡± A row of immediate headshakes was the answer. We were stubborn and determined, but we weren¡¯t dumb. It was clear we¡¯d never succeed, no matter what we did. ¡°Exactly,¡± I continued. ¡°So the question is: Why is Miss K putting this challenge in front of us then? If there was no way to win, it wouldn¡¯t be fun for her either; I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be the type to enjoy just throwing us to the ground over and over again.¡± Taking a deep breath, I elaborated further. ¡°So here¡¯s what I think: She wants us to use the basics from the first lesson. It¡¯s an extended training session, not actually a challenge about whether we can hit her or not.¡± Disbelieving looks all around, but I had expected that. ¡°Just pay close attention, alright? Look at how she reacts to each of my punches. I¡¯ll show you. The full-body punch is the one from the shard; watch exactly how she leaves herself more open when I throw it.¡± With those words, I immediately broke out of the huddle and ran at Miss K, throwing a normal jab. A raised eyebrow met the attempt and half a second later, I was splayed out on the ground as expected, after she had simply deflected the punch again. Getting up and going for another punch, I put my all behind it. Miss K¡¯s eyes sparkled with recognition and mirth¡ªshe understood what I was going for. As if to help me make my point, she let my fist connect with her open palm for a fraction of a second longer than usual before laying me out again. Dusting myself off and limping back to the huddle, the combined bruises of all my falls slowly starting to take their toll, I was greeted with wide eyes. ¡°See?¡± I panted. ¡°That full-body punch made her react differently. She had to adjust, even if just a little. That¡¯s what we need to focus on¡ªthe basics she¡¯s been drilling into us. They aren¡¯t just random lessons and this isn¡¯t just a random challenge; the moves are tools to create openings. If we can string them together right, we might actually land a hit.¡± Kenzie was the first to speak, her energetic and excited voice filling our tiny circle. ¡°Fuck, that was¡­ You¡¯re right! Is that why my attack a few tries back seemed to get closer than ever before? It was your punch keeping her in place?!¡± I nodded, unable to hide a grin. It felt undeniably awesome to have my theory proven right and to see the others excited about it. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Great work, Sera. I did not catch that at all, despite trying to figure out where the trick was¡­¡± Tom replied in a more solemn way. He seemed a bit upset that he hadn¡¯t figured it out himself, but his determined grin showed he was genuinely impressed and raring to try. Jin simply grunted and nodded, throwing a few mock-punches in the air that seemed more focused on feinting than anything else. ¡°So we¡¯re all in agreement to try and use the first-lesson basics for our next tries, then? Miss K is clearly trying to get us to use them, and I genuinely think it¡¯s our only chance to make it,¡± I asked, wanting to verbally confirm that we were all on the same page. A round of nods and determined, toothy grins followed as we broke the huddle and arrayed ourselves around Miss K once again. ¡°So, done with your little strategy session then?¡± She said with a mocking tone, but the glint in her eyes as she looked at me told me more than anything she could have said¡ªwe were on the right track¡­
Pushing ourselves up from the ground once again, we heard Miss K¡¯s voice waft leisurely over the arena, ¡°Last attempt on this next one, your half hour¡¯s nearly up.¡± Using the basic moves had proven a lot more effective than I had hoped for, but we still hadn¡¯t managed to lay a single finger on Miss K. We simply weren¡¯t coordinated nor good enough at using them to truly wow Miss K into giving us the win. But we had gotten close quite a number of times¡ªas close as you could realistically get when the enemy was essentially omnipotent and could stop you from actually connecting at any given moment. Morale had been high after our strategy session, and it still was a lot higher than before it, but almost thirty minutes of constantly being laid out on the ground in various positions and having to rattle ourselves to get back up and try again was definitely starting to leave its mark on all of us. Miss K¡¯s reminder that this was the last try we had, however, gave us another burst of energy as was evident in the way that everyone around me seemed to lock the fuck in. ¡®Alright, Sera. Last try; it¡¯s not just about the punch, but also the timing and the location of where you aim¡ªdon¡¯t focus too hard on the kinematics of it all, it¡¯s basically muscle memory at this point. Just aim properly,¡¯ I told myself mentally, my internal voice helping me calm and centre myself as we took position around the Grandmaster one last time. Jin and Tom exchanged a quick nod, their eyes fierce with determination. Kenzie cracked her knuckles and adjusted her stance briefly before giving us all a nod. This time, much like the last few attempts, we didn¡¯t rush in blindly. We circled Miss K, each of us watching for the tiniest opening created by one of the others. Jin was the first to go in, feinting to the left and drawing Miss K¡¯s attention for a split second. Tom seized the opportunity, dashing forward with a high kick aimed at her shoulder. Miss K deflected it easily, but Tom¡¯s follow-up punch¡ªone he had been perfecting over the last few tries¡ªwas enough to shift her balance slightly as she needed to deflect yet another hit from him. Kenzie came in low, aiming one of her lightning-fast kicks at the Sensei¡¯s legs. Miss K dodged again, but her movement was off, strangely more deliberate, like she was starting to take us more seriously now. I took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline surge through my veins, and launched myself into the fray as well. I aimed a jab at Miss K that was quickly deflected, but unlike all the earlier attempts, Miss K didn¡¯t have time to lay me out fully in response, as she was still recovering from the other attacks. In the same moment, Jin¡¯s real attack, following his initial feint, came flying in and seemed to almost take Miss K by surprise as she contorted and twisted her body in downright impossible ways to avoid it. Tom, Kenzie, and I saw our chances and threw everything we had into our best shots. Tom threw mix-up after mix-up¡ªsometimes multiple punches in a row, then kicks, then interspersed almost randomly¡ªkeeping Miss K stumbling backward while Kenzie prepared. Kenzie ducked low and coiled herself up before catapulting herself at Miss K with her claws outstretched, using the same move she had learned today and used against me. Meanwhile, I was biding my time, my muscles practically aching from restraining them from acting immediately. I needed to make sure this punch hit. I didn¡¯t have the speed of Kenzie, the strength of Jin, or the versatility of Tom, so I had to rely on the only thing that might give me an edge: my sense of timing when it came to boss fights. As Kenzie sailed through the air, I felt a twinge in my chest telling me to act. Putting my all into the strongest punch I could muster, I aimed at the left side of Miss K¡¯s torso, purposefully aiming to almost miss, hoping that Kenzie¡¯s attack would make Miss K dodge slightly, moving her further into my trajectory. The Grandmaster laid out Jin as a result of his attack, kicking his legs out from under him after he ended up slightly unbalanced by her previous deflection. Tom¡¯s mix-ups, no longer supported by any of our attacks since we were just slightly off-timing, were caught, and he was flipped 180 degrees and smashed to the ground just as Kenzie¡¯s claws reached Miss K. Twirling on the spot, our Sensei grabbed Kenzie¡¯s outstretched arms and simply spun her around before throwing her a good ten metres away onto the mat. Kenzie¡¯s final attempt at clawing at the Grandmaster, despite being caught in her grasp, however, caused Miss K to have to make one extra step to balance herself before the throw¡ªright into my punch¡¯s trajectory. With a dull, resounding thud of meat-on-meat, my fist landed squarely in Miss K¡¯s palm. Pushing as hard as I could, with all the power my Body 5, the proper punching technique the shard had taught me, and my [Martial Arts] Skill of 2 giving me, I let out a scream of exertion. The instant my fist slipped from her grasp, the sweat on her palms and my fingers creating enough of a film to provide just the right amount of missing friction for my angle of attack to slip past, I saw her crack into a genuine, proud smile. I felt relief, but before it could fully manifest, my fist landed in the folds of Miss K¡¯s dojo outfit and sailed right past the left side of her stomach by less than a centimetre, the fabric ripping as my fist got caught on it and went wide. Unbalanced by my powerful punch missing, I stumbled forward, and a quick kick to the back of my legs brought me down to the ground as well. I spun around and looked up at the triumphant Miss K standing above the four of us with a gentle smile on her face, looking down at her dojo uniform that now bore a tiny rip. ¡°Well¡­ You got close¡ªvery close,¡± she said as her eyes met ours. ¡°Impressively close, really. I wasn¡¯t expecting you all to work this well together without any prior training on the matter, or even considering it to begin with, considering that there¡¯s only one dose of the injector. But well¡­ This ain¡¯t a hit.¡± She pulled up the ripped part of the uniform for all of us to see. Disbelief, despair, and exhaustion overcame all four of us, as we simply slumped back onto the ground. I couldn¡¯t believe my eyes¡ªafter everything, I had only managed to rip a tiny portion of her clothing rather than landing even a glancing hit. ¡°But,¡± with a toothy, wide grin, she added, pulling us all back from the brink, ¡°it is one of only two times I¡¯ve had to change my uniform after an introductory class¡¯ attempt at this challenge. That, in itself, is a massive achievement that none of you should deem lightly.¡± She walked around and pulled us up one by one, gently dusting us off as she did so. ¡°Now, go get yourselves fixed up. You¡¯ve done exceedingly well and far exceeded my expectations¡ªI doubt this will happen often, so take the win today.¡± With those words, she simply sauntered off towards her office, whistling an upbeat tune as she did and leaving the four of us behind. I looked at my teammates, their expressions a mix of exhaustion, disappointment and pride. We had given it our all and come closer than anyone expected. Despite the aches and bruises, there was a sense of accomplishment that couldn¡¯t be denied. We all shared a single thought, even without the need to talk: Next time, we would get her¡­ Chapter 80 - Innocent Inquiries After we finished patching ourselves up with the medical supplies, we all started to walk out of the dojo together, a light trickle of conversation accompanying us. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she was able to just¡­ create minute openings like that,¡± Jin said, awe evident in his voice. ¡°Getting hit on purpose is one thing, but that¡­? Just what kind of a monster is Sensei?¡± The rest of us muttered affirmations, sharing the same thoughts. ¡°Say,¡± Tom suddenly broke the ensuing silence, ¡°how about we all meet up outside the dojo and do some extra training together? My place has a large training hall we could use; make sure we continue to exceed Sensei¡¯s expectations going forward¡ªI really wouldn¡¯t mind having that on my resume.¡± Kenzie and Jin immediately turned thoughtful, clearly considering their answers carefully. For me, however, it didn¡¯t seem like there was any downside to it at all. I would get more time training my [Martial Arts] and [CQC] Skills in a safe environment while also making more connections with people my age; clear wins all around. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I replied with a friendly smile, but as I did so, I immediately felt like I had just made some sort of mistake. Jin and Kenzie¡¯s heads snapped towards me, their eyes wide. Tom either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t react, simply smiling at me as his eyes flashed yellow for a brief moment, my cerebral link immediately receiving a new bout of contact information. ¡°How about you two, then?¡± Tom turned the question on the other two who had been hesitating. They immediately schooled their expressions the moment they realised Tom was addressing them, but it was clear they were tense regardless. Kenzie¡¯s eyes met mine for a moment, and I could see something inside of them shift as she seemed to make a decision. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll join in¡ªbut if it doesn¡¯t prove worth my time, I¡¯m leaving; no explanations,¡± she finally asserted, meeting Tom¡¯s eyes. He simply nodded in agreement. Jin cursed quietly before also agreeing, ¡°Sure, whatever, I guess¡­ Same rules as the fox girl.¡± With everyone having exchanged their contact information, we continued walking towards the nearest restricted elevators. I couldn''t shake the feeling that I''d missed something huge in this whole interaction. ¡®What the hell was that all about¡­?¡¯ I wondered during a lull in the conversation. ¡®They looked super unhappy to accept this whole deal¡ªis there something about Tom I should know about¡­?¡¯ I took a closer look at the boy with the bionic enhancements, but nothing seemed off about him. That left two possible scenarios in my mind: He was some sort of known quantity in the upper circles of whatever society had access to Miss K¡¯s dojo, or his family was. A cold shudder ran down my spine at the realisation. ¡®Oh fuck¡­ I really hope I didn¡¯t just screw myself by agreeing to this; I don¡¯t know anything about corpo politics and families¡­!¡¯ My fear wasn¡¯t about what I might have gotten myself into, but rather how the corporate-obsessed person in my immediate family would react to it. Had I just agreed to become friends with the son of a potential enemy of Valeria? Did I just agree to become some sort of accidental hostage in corpo politics or something?! There was really only one way to figure it out without doing something really stupid. ¡°Hey, Kenzie, mind sticking with me for a bit longer? I wanted to ask you something about today¡¯s session,¡± I lied as naturally as I breathed while we approached the restricted elevators. The fox girl eyed me for a brief instant before nodding enthusiastically, ¡°Absolutely! Maybe we can even go shopping or something? I could really use some new threads.¡± Something told me that the entire second part about wanting to go shopping was bullshit, but I was thankful for her immediately catching on¡ªthe girl was smart; smarter than me, I had a feeling. As the others boarded their respective, restricted elevators and we all said our goodbyes, promising to keep in touch before the next dojo session, Kenzie and I lingered behind. Once they were gone, I took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to phrase my question without sounding too paranoid; or too ignorant¡ªafter all, I was in the same high-class dojo as them, so I should at least look like I belonged. Kenzie¡¯s sharp eyes stayed on me, clearly waiting for me to spill whatever was on my mind. ¡°So, about Tom,¡± I began, keeping my tone casual, ¡°is there something I should know about you three? Some pre-existing tensions there?¡± I purposefully avoided mentioning anything about families or potential politics, as I had absolutely no clue what I had just walked into. Who could have expected that accepting an invitation to some extra training could be this complicated?! Kenzie looked at me for a few seconds, my Ego Attribute working overtime to keep my face as neutral as possible, before answering with a question of her own. ¡°You don¡¯t know much about our families, do you?¡± I was a bit confused by the question at first, since we didn¡¯t even know each other¡¯s last names. But then again¡ªthis was Neo Avalis. With the right amount of credits and the right contacts, there was no such thing as not knowing something. I only had two paths forward here: Playing up the high-society corpo angle or admitting that I was, comparatively, barely above a street-rat when it came to corpo knowledge. On one hand, I really wanted to be honest with Kenzie¡ªI was seriously craving a friend, as pathetic as that sounded in my head. But on the other hand, I didn¡¯t actually know much about her and being honest could be all-too-dangerous for me right now. Kenzie didn¡¯t strike me as the kind of person to screw me over if I displayed a lack of knowledge, but then again, I had thought Mr. Stirling an upstanding citizen as well¡ªuntil he had turned around and requested severe compensation for what was, essentially, pushing a shopping cart down the aisle. Ultimately, I decided to mix the two, but erring more on the side of being honest with Kenzie¡ªthere were only so many houses of lies I could realistically keep up and running at a time, and trying to build a friendship on an outright lie didn¡¯t seem particularly smart. ¡°I¡­ I do not,¡± I admitted, playing up my embarrassment a bit to add an extra layer of naivete. ¡°I followed Miss K¡¯s advice on treating it all as entirely separate, inside the dojo and out. So I never ended up checking your backgrounds¡­ Very naive, apparently. Everyone else seems to be way ahead of me on this¡­¡± Kenzie¡¯s look turned downright pitiful at that admission, like she could scarcely believe how I was even alive with such a naive mindset. But it seemed to do the trick, as there was also a hint of affection in her eyes; the same glint I had seen earlier when she agreed to join in. I internally breathed a sigh of relief. ¡®I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t misinterpret that look¡ªshe agreed to join in on all of this only to protect me, to not let me go alone, didn¡¯t she?¡¯ Taking a deep breath, Kenzie fixed her eyes on mine, making sure I was paying close attention before divulging the information that was apparently common knowledge to everyone except me, ¡°Tom, or rather, Thomas Erius Laken, is the second son of Raphael Laken. And yes, THE Raphael Laken, otherwise known as ¡®The Butcher of Oldtown¡¯, CEO of Laken Industries.¡± My eyes widened at that¡ªand not just because Kenzie would be expecting it, but more so because I actually recognized both of those names. Both Thomas Erius Laken and Raphael ¡°The Butcher of Oldtown¡± Laken were characters in the actual game! Raphael Laken was the CEO and figurehead of Laken Industries, a supplier of all things metal and mineral, that also had some of the best 3D-printing tech on the market¡ªthe company was an absolute behemoth in Neo Avalis, ranking amongst the top 30 corporations. In the game, he was both a high-level quest NPC but also a potential antagonist, depending on what storylines the player followed; more often than not, the latter. Thomas Erius Laken, on the other hand, was a strange character and vastly different from the ¡°Tom¡± that I had met in Miss K¡¯s dojo. In the game, he was an utterly unhinged bionic monstrosity; essentially akin to what a cyberpsycho was for the cybernetic side of body enhancements. He had long lost his mind to the experimental bionics that he had been obsessed with and only served as a major boss encounter in a variety of different storylines. Following Raphael¡¯s quests, you would ultimately put Thomas down after a vast number of failed attempts to revert the damage done to his body and brain; while other quest lines often simply had you kill him as Raphael Laken used him as an extremely powerful and dangerous enforcer, causing a lot of death and collateral in the meantime. I had trouble reconciling the seemingly kind-natured and smart Tom with the monster that was Thomas from the game, but the names and family connection made it undeniable. Just what the fuck had happened in the few years that still separated me from the game¡¯s timeline, to turn Tom into that absolute monster¡­?! Kenzie must have seen the turmoil on my face, despite my Ego¡¯s best attempt to keep me calm, because she leaned in slightly, her voice softer now, ¡°Yeah¡­ That was just about my reaction too when I realised who was in this group.¡± A bit more forceful and once again catching my eyes with her own, she added, ¡°Be careful around him. You never know what someone in that family could be capable of, even if he seems fairly tame so far.¡± It was somewhat humorous how on-point Kenzie was with her warnings, but she didn¡¯t even realise just how far beyond what anyone would realistically expect Tom to end up as he would ultimately go. ¡°As for Jin and myself,¡± Kenzie continued, ¡°we¡¯re not nearly as important. Jin¡¯s full name is Jin Mutsashi Hokanida, third son of Wakana Hokanida, Vice-President of Xanadu Enterprises. They¡¯re mostly focused on Cyberspace as a whole; server space, apartments, interior design, security, the whole works. If you need to acquire something in the Neo Avalis Cyberspace, chances are you¡¯ll run into Xanadu Enterprises at some stage.¡± Pointing at herself, she continued, ¡°As for myself, my full name¡¯s Kenzie Valupina Molida, second daughter of Octavia Valupina Molida, Director of Marketing at NexusPulse Systems. They mostly deal with propulsion systems for vehicles but also sometimes get military contracts to help create some new rocket or another. I don¡¯t really have much to do with the corpo side of things; that¡¯s more my sister and mum.¡± Kenzie ended her rundown with a seemingly nonchalant shrug, but my Intuition told me that there was a bit more tension in the movement than would normally be expected. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I was flabbergasted by the sheer amount of detail she had gone into and readily revealed to me, considering that I was technically still a stranger to her. A part of me wanted to see it as a token of friendship, to accept it as freely given information from friend to friend, but I was not nearly as naive as I was playing to be. Kenzie wanted something from me in return, that much was without a doubt. I did feel somewhat positive about something here, however, and that was that she had given me the information in good faith, considering that we didn¡¯t agree on any particular exchange beforehand. Going first in an exchange of information like this without any real agreement having been made before was a big sign of trust, or at least, goodwill, no matter how you wanted to slice it. One thing that still thoroughly confused me about the whole corpo politics on display here, though, was how each of them had even ended up as part of a dojo headed by EtherLabs and why they were in this megabuilding to begin with. Surely scions like them would be able to have a penthouse in the city somewhere? I could see Kenzie¡¯s family maybe not having the creds or influence to make it, but the Vice-President of Xanadu Enterprises? Raphael fucking Laken? How did their sons end up in a random dojo in megabuilding Delta of all places? Even if they were second or third sons, surely, there had to be a different place to put them? Before I could really come to any conclusions, however, Kenzie spoke up again. ¡°So there you have it. That¡¯s the basic rundown of each of us,¡± she hesitated for a moment, clearly considering her next words carefully. ¡°Naturally, I did check up on you as well, Sera,¡± she held up her hands defensively as if to pre-empt any kind of accusation or aggression from my end¡ªwhich seemed a bit excessive, considering that she had just helped me out, but corpo politics were apparently a lot more complicated than I had feared. ¡°But I came up almost entirely empty; which¡­ I will admit, I don¡¯t know what that means.¡± Her eyes met mine with a complicated mixture of trepidation, anxiety, and expectation. ¡®So that¡¯s why,¡¯ I pieced together the parts of the puzzle that had been this entire conversation as things fell into place. ¡®She couldn¡¯t find information on me that fit with her image for me¡ªshe is expecting another scion, but I¡¯m just a random kid from the megabuilding. She wants to trade for intel, specifically intel on me.¡¯ The problem was, there really wasn¡¯t any bigger truth hidden behind it all¡ªas far as I knew. I really was just a random kid living in the megabuilding, who just so happened to have a mother that somehow managed to strong-arm me into the craziest group of corpo scions this side of Neo Avalis. My eyes widened ever-so-slightly at that thought. ¡®Wait a fucking minute¡­ Was this Valeria¡¯s plan from the get-go?! To place me in this exact group to get me to make contacts with these high-tier corpo children to get at their families?!¡¯ I could 100% see that being something Valeria would do, considering how much she seemed to be playing at the corpo-ladder angle whenever I had met her in the past. ¡®But no¡­¡¯ I refuted the thoughts internally. ¡®I was the one that asked her to let me go to the dojo alongside Gabriel; not the other way around. I asked her to put me here¡­ A coincidence then? Or maybe just an opportunity she saw when I made the request?¡¯ It had been fairly suspicious how quickly Valeria had agreed to my request and managed to not only gain a second slot at this, apparently highly prestigious, dojo but also in such a high-society group. Realising that I had been silent for a bit too long, making the whole situation quite awkward between Kenzie and myself, I quickly asked a follow-up to buy myself some time to focus back on the current conversation. ¡°So, what did you manage to learn?¡± Kenzie let out an almost imperceptible breath that she had seemingly been holding, before a lop-sided smile cracked her face again and she answered, ¡°Your name¡¯s Seraphine Vildea, daughter of Valeria Vildea and Oliver Vildea. Oliver works as a foreman for a logistics company called Rainmar Logistics, a subsidiary of FluxGear, a low to mid-tier cybernetics manufacturer. Your mother¡­ She works for Ether Labs in some capacity¡­¡± Her words trailed off and I noticed that she had been eyeing me closely, as if to gauge whether I would lash out in some way at the information revealed. It seemed that background checks like this, while expected to happen, were not something you actually talked about to anyone involved¡ªI guess it made sense, in a weird sort of way. Corporations had abolished all rights for privacy a long time ago, but they themselves were very much protective of their own private information. That would naturally extend to the people working under them, and the corpos themselves would naturally feel that their private information being snooped out would, in turn, be like corporate espionage. After all, they were the corporation¡¯s property, in a way. Kenzie¡¯s forehead creased into a frown as she shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s where everything started getting strange, Sera. I¡­ I couldn¡¯t get any information on her whatsoever, except that she works for Ether Labs in some capacity. I know it¡¯s a bit much to ask, since you don¡¯t really know me and all¡­ But¡­ I could really use a win like this; finding out intel on somebody that my families¡¯ connections couldn¡¯t get a bead on¡­!¡± Her words were practically flowing like water now, as she tried juggling the corporate politics in her mind, with her own ambitions and the tightrope that was not making me angry in her mind. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to reveal anything secret, of course! I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯d just like to know, you know? You¡¯ve been a bit of a question mark since the first day and I wanna know more about you, if that¡¯s not too much to ask. If the information I gave isn¡¯t enough, I can trade other stuff, too!¡± I was thoroughly taken aback by the drastic change that Kenzie had just undergone. From a smart, energetic, but dangerously calculated girl, to downright pleading. It was very clear that this whole thing meant a hell of a lot to her. Being put on the spot like this was exceedingly stressful, to say the least. I had never been particularly good at politics, mostly staying away from any news about my past life¡¯s world¡¯s politics as well. There were too many angles, too many questions in my mind, that I didn¡¯t know how to handle. First and foremost, why was the information important to Kenzie? Just to show up her family somehow? Why? I didn¡¯t know enough about her personal situation at home to really make any calls there one way or another. It might be that she was being treated badly at home, in which I¡¯d, of course, love to help her. But I had no idea if that was the case whatsoever. Secondly, what did it mean that Valeria¡¯s occupation couldn¡¯t be found out? Kenzie¡¯s family contacts had easily managed to figure out everything about Tom and Jin¡¯s families, so why did they fail with Valeria? Was it that Valeria¡¯s information was more tightly guarded? Or simply that Jin¡¯s and Tom¡¯s families were more high-profile, so basic level information like occupation and names were readily available? And then the obvious golden Killjoy floating through the room: Could I reveal anything about Valeria without risking her ire? If her information truly was hidden carefully through some means, then revealing anything about her would obviously go contrary to whoever was hiding the information. Was it Valeria herself? Ether Labs? Some third party simply hired to do so? Not to mention that, even if I wanted to trade information like this, I also was very well aware of the fact that I had none to trade to begin with. I didn¡¯t actually know what Valeria did for a living. So even if I wanted to trade; to help Kenzie, I literally couldn¡¯t. My silence dragged on as I considered these angles and more, thinking about Kenzie and my relationship with her so far. Had our blossoming friendship been real? Or just an attempt from her to get close enough to make me open up on this? And most importantly: Did I even care? Did I truly care if her friendship was fake, to get information about a woman that had literally tortured me and my brother because we slighted her? So what if Kenzie potentially used the information to make Valeria¡¯s life a bit more hellish than it had been; that seemed like a very fair trade for a night of NeuroCorpse in my eyes. Unfortunately for everybody involved, my heart told me that yes, I did care. I wanted a friend in this world; a real one. If the small tidbits of camaraderie we had shared so far in Miss K¡¯s sessions had all been a ploy¡ªan act of sorts¡ªsimply to gather information, then I couldn¡¯t help but be upset. ¡®Ah. I see¡­¡¯ I realised as that thought coalesced in my mind. I already was upset. Kenzie had just put me into a position where I had to reconsider every single interaction I had with her so far and potentially from here on out as a whole. A part of me enjoyed seeing Kenzie squirm under my gaze as I continued to ponder my answer. It had been too long for a natural, short consideration; and we both knew it. She could see the gears working behind my emerald eyes and the fact that my Ego Attribute kept my face a perfect mask made her uncomfortable beyond words. She had shot her shot and now could only wait on my answer and pray that I reacted in a way that was beneficial to her. The power I held in that moment felt downright intoxicating. ¡®Is this what Valeria feels like whenever she is at home¡­?¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think, shuddering at the thought that I might be more like her than I wanted to admit. Ultimately, I had to make a decision. Considering everything I knew at the moment and all the potential fallout that I could foresee, I chose the coward¡¯s way out. ¡°Look, Kenzie,¡± I started, my tone softer than before, ¡°I get it. You need to show your worth, prove yourself. I don¡¯t blame you for that.¡± I sighed, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit. ¡°I appreciate your help, Kenzie; truly,¡± I continued, giving a respectful nod as I saw her tense up a bit. ¡°The information you shared is really helpful. I¡¯ll keep it in mind when interacting with the boys, and you, of course. As for trading... Let¡¯s hold off on that for now, yeah? I don¡¯t really know you well enough to reveal my family¡¯s secrets just yet. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve kept a lot about your family under wraps too; it¡¯s only natural.¡± Kenzie¡¯s face fell slightly, but she quickly recovered¡ªthere was a hint of relief in her eyes that she couldn¡¯t fully hide, almost like she had expected a worse reaction if I didn¡¯t agree to the trade. Despite everything, I still wanted to try and be her friend¡ªI was desperate, I¡¯m the first to admit that. But what other options did I truly have? Jade had already proven to be a snake, so trust on that front would take a long time to rebuild; if it was even possible, and I hadn¡¯t met anyone else my age except the group at the Arkion Dojo. I didn¡¯t know where to even meet people, considering I didn¡¯t go to school or anything. Figuring that, at the end of the day, I¡¯d be seeing Kenzie whether I wanted to or not, I decided to throw her an additional bone and, foolishly, be just as naive in reality as I pretended to be. ¡°Maybe another time though, once I know you better. I¡¯d like... I¡¯d like to become friends, if that¡¯s an option.¡± I didn¡¯t even need to fake my embarrassment and awkwardness, fully realising how strange this sentence was. ¡®Who the fuck says that, Sera?!¡¯ I lamented internally but kept my face natural and slightly flushed. ¡®Who says ¡°I¡¯d like to become friends¡±?! Are you a fucking alien or something?!¡¯ Kenzie¡¯s surprised face was the only thing keeping the self-lamenting thoughts at bay, her fox ears twitching animatedly. ¡°Ahh... Yes! That¡¯s fine! I¡¯d like to be friends too! I promise I won¡¯t ask about it again. Thank you for... Thank you.¡± It was clear she had more to say but decided against it, the smart, calculated version of herself returning and rapidly pushing the image of the pleading Kenzie from my memory. After a bit of an awkward pause, Kenzie spoke up again, ¡°I guess we should head home, then. In case the boys ask, I bought a dress; a green one. Really accents my curves.¡± Raising an eyebrow at her, wondering what that was all about, she elaborated with a sly smirk, ¡°It¡¯s my favourite dress that I have at home. In case they wanna see it at some stage, I¡¯ll happily wear it. Gotta keep our alibis straight, yes? Especially when it comes to Tom; who knows how he or his father would react if they knew what we talked about.¡± I could definitely see the logic behind that and quickly agreed, before saying my goodbyes and punching my home floor into the restricted elevator. With the conversation fresh on my mind, I couldn¡¯t help but feel thoroughly exhausted. ¡®Fucking corporate politics¡­ Why did that have to happen, just when I thought I could start working on getting a friend?¡¯ I thought to myself, leaning heavily against the back of the elevator to let the cool metal ground me. Sighing, I muttered, ¡°At least I¡¯m done with corporate politics for the next few days¡­ Time to get back to the netrunning grind.¡± The second I said that, I realised my mistake and cursed under my breath as my cerebral interface chimed with a notification of a newly received message.
[(Mr. Stirling): Next data-collection, tomorrow. (Information attached).]
It seemed that corporate politics, specifically espionage, was very much still on my docket for the next few days after all... Chapter 81 - Anomaly On my way back home, I pulled up the information package that Mr. Stirling had provided alongside the message; I might as well get a look at what he wanted me to do this time around. I was a bit nervous and hesitant about another data collection, considering how horrendously bad the last one had gone, but I pushed aside those feelings for now. If I intended to become an Operator anytime soon, I couldn¡¯t let missteps colour my decisions like this. Mistakes were bound to happen along the way¡ªlearning how to deal with them, and preferably not die, was going to be a large part of what I¡¯d need to get used to as one. This time around, the information package included quite a lot of images, in addition to the usual text-based rundown. I had them arrayed around the edges of my vision, making sure I could still walk straight through the corridors of the 43rd floor, and kept the text rundown on the right side to cross-reference with. ¡®I feel like one of those super-hackers from all the cringey movies and shows back in my old life,¡¯ I couldn¡¯t help but think with a chuckle. ¡®I have become the cringe.¡¯ Focusing back on the information itself, I started getting a clearer picture of what Mr. Stirling had prepared for me, and I grimaced slightly. ¡®Golden Phoenix and Red Snakes floor, huh?¡¯ I thought with a bit of trepidation. The data collection would take place on a ¡°neutral¡± floor, as Mr. Stirling had put it in the text file; but that only meant ¡°neutral¡± in the sense of his personal agenda between EtherLabs and Falkum Industries. Considering my not-so-insignificant run-ins with the Clawed Beasts thanks to Mr. Shori¡¯s original request and the subsequent encounters with Jade and Vega, I had a feeling that going to a floor completely owned by their rival gangs wasn¡¯t going to be a smart idea. While I wasn¡¯t exactly a known quantity by any stretch and didn¡¯t officially belong to the Clawed Beasts¡ª¡®cause, honestly, fuck gang politics and everything they stood for¡ªthere was a non-zero chance that I might have been seen by a member of the rival gangs at some stage in the past when I interacted with members of the Clawed Beasts. Especially since I literally worked at Mr. Shori¡¯s place almost every day and the stall had very openly and firmly changed hands from the Red Snakes to the Clawed Beasts, I¡¯d have to make sure to tread lightly when I went to fulfil this task. Speaking of which, I quickly pulled up my Task interface to check and, lo and behold, there was a new Task waiting for me, as expected.
[Task Accepted: Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (Third Data Collection)] [Description: Collect and deliver the data to Mr. Stirling from floor 38 of the Delta Mega Building. 0/1 Data Collected. Time Limit: 36:24:22.] [Reward: 150 Character Experience + 1 General Skill Point]
I was slightly surprised to see that the character experience rewards had gone up by 50, but I wasn¡¯t one to complain about extra benefits. Everything else seemed to be about the same, so I went back to perusing the rest of the information package. Mr. Stirling had apparently chosen the drop-off point himself, the attached pictures showing a delivery box in front of one of the shops on the floor called ¡°Salt ¡®N¡¯ Guns,¡± a weapon¡¯s dealer that apparently owed Mr. Stirling a favour or two and had agreed to host the exchange via its delivery box. While the owner wouldn¡¯t exactly come out to save anyone involved in the trade, the simple fact that it was going to be in a fairly ¡°public-ish¡± setting, compared to the dead alley the last one had happened in, caused a big sigh of relief. It was unlikely that a group of Operators would cause much of a scene right in front of a weapon¡¯s store, especially if they were practically stealing from the shop in question by accessing their delivery box. Mr. Stirling¡¯s information package included a few phrases that had been agreed upon by the store owner to help me out in a pinch, should somebody question why I was accessing the delivery box or if I ended up having to seek a quick refuge within the shop; which was very much appreciated. I was half-inclined to thank him ahead of time, but then remembered some of the words of wisdom he had imparted upon me the last time we spoke. ¡®It is technically his job to make sure the data collection goes smoothly for everyone involved, so thanking him for something like this isn¡¯t actually the Operator¡¯s way,¡¯ I reminded myself. It felt odd to think about not thanking someone when they had clearly gone out of their way to prepare a safer route for you, but then again, that was kind of expected for a Fixer¡ªwhich Mr. Stirling technically was in this case. I only realised what I had thought a moment later and stopped dead in my tracks. ¡®Wait a minute¡­ Is this technically Operator work right now?¡¯ It had all the hallmarks of it, now that I actually spent a moment to think about it. I had a Fixer in Mr. Stirling, who gave me Tasks and information packages to go along with them. I had clearly defined goals and got paid upon completion. No matter how I sliced it, this was definitely Operator-like work. ¡®Is Mr. Stirling doing that on purpose or is this just how things are handled¡­?¡¯ I thought to myself, feeling a bit out of my depth, considering my relative inexperience with this world¡¯s more minute traditions and ways. It made sense for Operators to be set up in the way that they are, both from a logical in-world perspective, as well as the perspective from this all having been a game once upon a time. Bounty hunts, data collections, and whatever else a given person needed doing naturally had the rough hallmarks of this exact setup: Request, Information, Rewards. Without the request, no Task would be created. Without information, nothing could be done about the Task. Without a reward, nobody would ever consider filling the Task in the first place. So the real question was just how far Mr. Stirling¡¯s Tasks went down the Operator/Fixer hole of setup, rather than if they matched at all; since they were bound to by the simple nature of asking somebody to do something potentially dangerous. Based on the rather in-depth information package, however, I would argue ¡°very far.¡± ¡®Is that why they count as Tasks¡­? Mr. Shori¡¯s original request that had shown me the Task screen existed had followed a similar setup¡­ Is that how Tasks are generated for the System¡­?¡¯ The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The System seemed to recognize these specific requests as legitimate Tasks because they fit into this structured and easily recognizable pattern. It also explained why other requests, which hadn¡¯t featured a direct and clear reward, hadn¡¯t led to any Tasks being generated. It was an odd realisation but one I wasn¡¯t unhappy about having. Understanding the System was half the battle when it came to making sure I could squeeze all the advantages out of it to keep me alive, and potentially even thriving later on, in this world. Quickly checking over the information in the package again, I came up with a basic plan of attack. I vowed to make some more detailed preparations tomorrow at Mr. Shori¡¯s place¡ªcooking didn¡¯t require the brain power it used to, so I¡¯d have quite a few hours to dedicate to making sure I wasn¡¯t going to miss anything important. With a basic plan in mind for tomorrow, I closed out all the information. A few moments later, I arrived at the door to my apartment and couldn¡¯t help but be a bit proud of my impeccable timing. Stepping inside, I bee-lined it for the shower, wanting nothing more than to run some calming, hot water over my bruised body. ¡®Miss K really could¡¯ve done with a bit of a gentler put-down in a lot of those instances¡­¡¯ I lamented as my battered self leaned heavily against the cold rock-crete wall. I wasn¡¯t actually upset, considering how much restraint she had clearly displayed, but being bruised all over still wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d consider fun. After finishing up in the shower and heading to my room, I quickly went over the gains from the last thirty minutes of today¡¯s Dojo session. The System notifications flashed in my mind, showcasing the progress I had made.
[System]: 500xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Intellect Attribute.
A few oddities caught my attention almost immediately. First and foremost, the amount of [Martial Arts] experience was absolutely absurd, considering that the two-and-a-half hours of intensive training with Kenzie before that had netted a total of 1,100xp. Just thirty minutes of facing Miss K had earned almost half that?! ¡®I guess that¡¯s a Grandmaster for you¡­ The System probably puts some extra bonuses on facing more difficult opponents,¡¯ I thought to myself, internally vowing to keep this in mind for next time. ¡®Wait a minute¡­! System Bonus¡­?¡¯ That idea actually sparked another almost immediately. ¡®My bonus experience!¡¯ I quickly pulled up the window that showed my stored-up Bonus Experience, which I hadn¡¯t actually used in quite some time, but still accumulated every time I had used the Rest Function.
[Available Bonus XP: 1,800]
I felt quite stupid realising that I had completely forgotten about it over the past few days. After I had reached my last major milestones, I hadn¡¯t really set any new ones, so the bonus experience had simply fallen to the wayside. ¡®I definitely need to save a good chunk for the next session with Miss K. If I can use it in combination with the intensive 30-minute bouts against her, that would be a truly ludicrous amount of experience per hour.¡¯ The sheer thought of gaining upwards of 1,000xp for a Skill in just thirty minutes sent tingles down my spine. That truly was the kind of experience-per-hour optimization that I lived for. ¡®What else do I need to focus on right now, then¡­?¡¯ I thought, taking a quick peek at my Skill List and Attributes. I had always used the Bonus XP for my Body-related training, but with it being at a solid 5 by now, there really wasn¡¯t much reason to continue pumping it up for now. While a higher Body was never bad, I really needed to make sure that I didn¡¯t let other Attributes and Skills fall behind too much. The first two things that immediately caught my attention were both [Cooking] and [Stealth]. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡®Maxed out Skills¡­ That¡¯s not good at all.¡¯ [Stealth] had been stuck at Level 3 with 3,000/3,000 experience for a few days now, while [Cooking] had similarly reached the maximum experience amount of 2,000/2,000 just earlier today. Wasting experience drops because the governing Attributes weren¡¯t high enough to support them was an absolute cardinal sin in a gamer¡¯s eye. ¡®I¡¯d absolutely be getting roasted in any forum if people saw my build¡­ Good god, I¡¯ll need to fix this ASAP¡­!¡¯ Mentally, I flicked the levers on both Edge and Tech to be the recipients of my next Bonus XP uses. They were both extremely close to ranking up already, and it wouldn¡¯t hurt to get a bit ahead on the next rank to avoid running into this issue again. Aside from those two, all my other Skills were looking fine and without much need for immediate attention. That said, there was one Skill in particular that I wouldn¡¯t mind getting up a bit quicker, considering today¡¯s events: [Deception]. It was getting embarrassing to continuously be played with by Miss K and read like an open book. It was downright dangerous, given the whole Anima-related happenings surrounding me now, as even Miss K had admitted. So, it was high time to actually get some more experience on the [Deception] front. I added it to my list of automatically-applicable Bonus XP for now. I wanted to get it to Level 3, at the very minimum, as quickly as possible, in the hopes that I¡¯d finally be able to hide something from Miss K¡ªalthough deceiving a Grandmaster might just require a way higher Skill altogether, but I was being optimistic. Running into a Grandmaster wasn¡¯t exactly common, after all, so hopefully Level 3 would suffice for more commonly-encountered people that I¡¯d have to hide things from. Another thing that caught my attention in the experience rundown of the last thirty minutes of today¡¯s dojo session was the complete lack of [CQC] experience points. While my bouts with Kenzie had offered a decent chunk, fighting Miss K with the rest of the group hadn¡¯t given me a single experience drop for it. Considering that it was still a Level 0 Skill and Miss K¡¯s [Mentor Bonus] alone should have definitely given me at least one, it was strange not to mention any potential extra bonuses the System had so generously applied to the [Martial Arts] Skill. ¡®So why didn¡¯t I get a drop¡­?¡¯ I wondered, trying to figure out why the System hadn¡¯t considered any of what I had done during the last thirty minutes as [CQC] Skill worthy. My most immediate thought was that I hadn¡¯t fought in the way I usually did. I had exclusively followed Miss K¡¯s instructions on how to attack. With my usual style, I naturally incorporated a lot more ¡°random¡± movements, attacks, and the like, while the bout with Miss K had exclusively included the moves she had tried to teach us during today¡¯s lesson. ¡®That¡­ does kind of make a lot of sense. Miss K is a Grandmaster of [Martial Arts], so it would only follow that she¡¯d understand exactly what moves would be required to exclusively train that Skill, wouldn¡¯t it¡­?¡¯ That, in itself, might have also been one of the factors for the massive [Martial Arts] experience drop. If I hadn¡¯t ¡°wasted¡± any movements on anything but training the Skill, then it would naturally be more efficient than what I had done versus Kenzie in terms of gaining experience. I filed those thoughts away for now as potential explanations and things I¡¯d have to research in the future. For now, however, I had more netrunning to grind, as the meeting with the Operator was still racing towards me at breakneck speed and I really needed to impress. ¡°Time to say hello to Kill Joy again¡­¡± I muttered to myself, half-exasperated already at what the enigmatic man would likely have to say about my burnout episode the last time I had slotted the SPG-01 shard. ¡®No more raw-dogging cyberspace, Sera. No matter what,¡¯ I reminded myself. Making sure to grab my cyberdeck this time around, I headed for the bed. Laying down on it with only my underwear on¡ªhaving tried to put on proper clothes but the bruises hurt with every move and ultimately deciding not to wear clothes instead¡ªI slotted the shard into my cyberdeck and connected directly to it via the direct-access chord that I pulled out from my neck slot, before I entered the digital world once again. ¡®What fresh hell of a lesson does Kill Joy have in store for me today?¡¯ I wondered, bracing myself for whatever was coming next.
¡°Would you look at that¡­ The girl has survived after all,¡± Kill Joy greeted me with his ever-smug expression as the digital classroom around me materialised. ¡°I had given you around a 30% chance of coming back. It¡¯s good to see that a single bad experience doesn¡¯t deter you, girl.¡± I seriously rolled my eyes at that, considering a major burnout like the one I had experienced yesterday wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d call a ¡°single bad experience.¡± If I had pushed just slightly harder, I would have been a goner, my brain straight up flowing out of my nostrils at that point¡ªbut apparently for Kill Joy, this was just another Tuesday. One question had been bothering me a lot since then, so I didn¡¯t waste any time with pleasantries and went straight for the jugular. ¡°How come I wasn¡¯t booted from the shard? Is it intended that new students can accidentally kill themselves in here? I thought you said you¡¯d keep an eye on me and make sure to cancel the exercise if it got dangerous?¡± ¡°That is indeed true, girl. No student is allowed to come to harm using any copy of the SPG-01 shard. Harm being defined as potentially permanent damage to the body or mind,¡± Kill Joy replied immediately, his voice oddly robotic for once, like he was reading off a piece of paper instead of his usual, more free-form speech pattern. But based on the definition he had just given, our last excursion absolutely violated that part, no matter how you looked at it. The only reason I hadn¡¯t suffered permanent damage to the back of my neck was the Rest Function¡¯s OP-as-hell healing factor; something that Kill Joy had no way of knowing about. I simply glared at him, waiting for him to continue and explain why this one was an exception, but he didn¡¯t continue talking at all, even ten seconds later. ¡°So¡­ Why did you not pull me out?¡± I asked, prompting for an answer. I needed to understand the rules of this training shard if I didn¡¯t want to accidentally run into an issue like that again. While I had pushed myself more than I should have, I had partially done so because I had been under the impression that Kill Joy would cancel the simulation should I run the risk of hurting myself. He had, after all, specifically said that he would do so in the middle of the simulation. A moment of silence reigned between us as I continued to glare at him, until he finally replied, ¡°The SPG-01 shard is designed to teach and guide the students while preventing any bodily or mental harm from coming to them at any point. There is no possible scenario in which the shard¡¯s simulation would continue, should a risk be detected. As the governing AI, I can confirm that no such risks were detected during our last excursion.¡± I kept staring at him, trying to figure out what the actual fuck was going on. Kill Joy had just greeted me, saying he was surprised I survived the burnout. Both statements¡ªthe surprise that I was alive and the acknowledgment of the burnout¡ªdirectly contradicted what he had just said. There was also the fact that the Kill Joy featured on the shards was an AI¡ªnot a true one, mind you, as that would be heretical beyond belief. Since the NetBurn, in which a handful of semi-sentient, rogue AIs had completely taken over the public internet and turned it into a digital death trap that had to be segmented from the rest of the digital world with an impenetrable firewall called the Silver Veil, any form of semi-sentient or higher-level AI creation had been completely outlawed by all corporations and cyberspace enthusiasts. The VeilGuard, a supposedly ¡°neutral¡± organisation that specifically existed to ensure no such threat could ever be created again, made absolutely certain that such types of AIs were never considered again by anyone. Even someone as important and powerful as Kill Joy wouldn¡¯t escape the wrath of the VeilGuard if he attempted to create one. Considering that, there was absolutely no chance that the AI incorporated with the SPG-01 shard had routines allowing it to lie when specifically asked questions about its directives¡ªit was one of the main rules laid out by the VeilGuard. Violating it would be seen as an attempt to create a new true-AI, punished swiftly by an excruciating death. The AI could be programmed not to reply, of course, but lying? That was not possible. ¡°Are you saying that a burnout is not considered harmful?¡± I asked, trying to be more direct. Kill Joy didn''t hesitate, responding in that oddly robotic tone again, ¡°A burnout is considered harmful in 100% of instances. They represent a severe danger to any netrunner, as they impact the nervous system and can lead to permanent brain damage or death; as such, burnouts are always considered harmful.¡± My mouth hung open as I stared at him. It took me a moment to gather myself before continuing, wanting to nail down exactly where the disconnect between our understandings occurred. ¡°Do you acknowledge that I suffered a burnout during our last excursion within the SPG-01 shard¡¯s Neo Avalis Cyberspace simulation, then?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Kill Joy replied immediately. ¡°The student has suffered a moderately severe case of netrunning burnout during the last excursion. The start of the session in question dates back 17 hours, 31 minutes, and 41 seconds.¡± ¡®What the fuck is happening here¡­? Did the burnout break the shard¡¯s AI or something¡­?¡¯ I wondered, completely flabbergasted by the AI''s answer. Something was definitely not right, but I couldn''t find an actual explanation for what might be going on. ¡°So you acknowledge that I suffered a burnout in this shard¡¯s simulation, yet you also claim that the shard¡¯s AI would boot me if I was at risk of being harmed? How do those two things make sense together? Please elaborate on the directives and decisions made during our last session,¡± I asked, trying to phrase my question as precisely as possible while also asking for directive access to ensure Kill Joy couldn¡¯t lie. Kill Joy remained quiet for a brief moment before answering, ¡°I acknowledge that the student suffered a burnout in the shard¡¯s simulation during the last session. The shard¡¯s AI would have booted the student should they be at risk of being harmed. Both are true given the instance in which it happened. The directives were to protect the student from harm by disconnecting them. This directive was followed to the best of the AI¡¯s abilities in order to protect the student from harm.¡± ¡°I¡­ What?¡± I muttered, taking a step back and leaning against a nearby wall of the classroom. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. You said you followed the directive, but I was never booted from the shard¡¯s simulation. I disconnected myself. Elaborate, Kill Joy.¡± ¡°The shard¡¯s AI followed the directive to the best of its abilities in order to protect the student from harm,¡± Kill Joy robotically repeated. ¡°The student was booted from the simulation in accordance with directive 14.7b, following the procedures as outlined in manual addendum 6a. The student subsequently continued the simulation until they disconnected themselves.¡± Once again, I could do nothing but stare at Kill Joy''s image in front of me. According to the AI, it had tried to boot me, but it had somehow failed to do so? That shouldn¡¯t be possible. The entire shard was governed by the AI itself. It had ultimate access to everything; actually, not just access, but it literally ran everything. Without the AI, there was no simulation; it literally could not possibly fail, unless the procedures were designed to fail. But if that were the case, then the shard would never have been able to be sold on the market. The governing AI needed to be able to disconnect students for a variety of reasons; it wasn¡¯t as iron-clad a rule as the one enforced by the VeilGuard, but in an open market, you wouldn¡¯t get particularly far with a shard that was too dangerous to use. There was really only one way to test it, though. ¡°Kill Joy, boot me from the shard in accordance with the procedures outlined in manual addendum 6a,¡± I ordered, hoping that the AI¡¯s directives included following orders from students if they were phrased correctly. Before I could even worry about whether or not it would comply, the world around me disintegrated, and I found myself lying back in my bed¡ªI had already been booted. ¡°What the fuck...?¡± I sat up, trying to process what had just happened. The AI clearly had the capability to boot me, and it did so instantly upon my request. So why hadn¡¯t it done the same during my burnout? The discrepancy was driving me nuts. There was a gap here that I couldn¡¯t quite bridge, and it was making my head spin. As I mulled it over, I realised I simply needed more information. Perhaps Kill Joy had some internal logs or diagnostics that could shed light on the issue. But accessing those might be tricky, and I''d have to phrase my questions carefully. ¡°Kill Joy,¡± I said aloud, half-expecting a reply despite being out of the shard. Shaking my head at my own jumbled thoughts, I took a second to re-focus on what I wanted to do; being flabbergasted and out of it was not conducive to an investigation like this. After a few moments, I took a last deep breath and reconnected to the shard. The classroom reformed around me, and Kill Joy¡¯s smirking face appeared. ¡°Back so soon? Didn¡¯t expect you to be this eager for another round.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, don''t get too excited. I need you to run diagnostics on the infiltration session and provide a detailed log of the boot attempt and any anomalies related to it,¡± I demanded, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Kill Joy¡¯s smirk faded, replaced by a more serious demeanour. ¡°Running diagnostics. This will take a moment.¡± As I waited, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of frustration and curiosity. There was something seriously off about this whole situation, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it. The AI had acknowledged the burnout, claimed to have followed its directives perfectly, yet I hadn¡¯t been booted. But the procedures to boot a student clearly worked, I had just confirmed that. It just didn¡¯t add up. A few minutes later, Kill Joy spoke up again. ¡°Diagnostics complete. Anomalies detected: One. During the last session, a directive to boot the student was executed but failed due to insufficient permissions caused by an external override. The source of the override could not be identified.¡± My eyes widened at that. An external override?! Someone or something had intervened during my session?! But how?! The shard was a closed system, literally only connecting to my cerebral link. There shouldn¡¯t be any external influences possible, like at all. ¡°Can you provide more details on this override? What kind of external source are we talking about?¡± I asked, my heart rapidly beating in my ears. ¡°The override was initiated through an unidentified signal that bypassed all of the shard¡¯s internal security protocols. The signal source and method of bypass remain unknown,¡± Kill Joy replied. A cold shudder ran down my spine at the thought that somebody or something out there had managed to slip right into a shard created by Kill Joy himself¡ªjust who could possibly do that?! And then it struck me. ¡®It¡¯s the System¡­! It¡¯s gotta be,¡¯ I thought to myself. It had generated a loot-shard inside the simulation, so naturally, it followed that it needed admin-level access to some degree. Since it was some unknown, almost definitely reality-defying thing, it also made sense that it could breach into something as sophisticated as a training shard designed and coded by Kill Joy himself. I couldn¡¯t think of any other person or entity that could possibly beat the man¡¯s security protocols; at least none that would ever be interested in a random girl trying to do her first Cyberspace excursion. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me and my heart slowly calmed itself down from the rapid beating that it had engaged in at the realisation that something had managed to hack itself into my training shard¡¯s closed system. I took another few minutes mulling it over, but I couldn¡¯t find any holes in my argument. ¡®Fucking System once again giving me a goddamn heart attack¡­ I swear this thing¡¯s about as much trouble as it¡¯s a help,¡¯ I lamented, before slowly making my way towards the seat inside the classroom. Sitting down, I looked up at Kill Joy and decided to finally start today¡¯s netrunning session. I had experience to grind¡­ Chapter 82 - Hardline Prep The rest of the session was surprisingly interesting¡ªnot to say that Kill Joy¡¯s usual netrunning lessons weren¡¯t usually interesting, of course; for all his faults, he was still a scarily efficient teacher. But no, today¡¯s session was special in that Kill Joy had decided to go over our excursion step-by-step and give me a rundown of each situation, what I could have done differently and how Cyberspace interactions could evolve and play out as a whole. It was very intriguing to be able to pick the mind of someone like him about what was essentially his area of expertise, and I couldn¡¯t deny that, no matter how annoying he had been during our excursion, he had been paying exceedingly close attention¡ªor maybe the AI had simply analysed the recording after-the-fact. One of the most interesting aspects he had talked about, was alternate ways of traversing the Cyberspace, if one was experienced enough and/or had the right tools at hand. One of the quick-hacks he had shown off had simply opened something akin to a teleportation gate from one end of the hallway to another, completely bypassing any and all security inside of it. Another had allowed him to simply copy his digital avatar, like a clone of sorts, and allowed it to give himself a boost to reach a window higher up in the building¡ªan odd sight to see, to say the least. Naturally, he had added that all the quick-hacks he showed off in this session were far too advanced for me just yet, but knowing that they existed, in and of itself, was already a massive revelation¡ªafter all, [Programming] was part of my ever-growing and improving skill set, so all I really needed to do was figure out how to code them myself in the future. There was also one more strange interaction with the AI, towards the end of the reviewing session. I had no real memory of how I managed to get out of Cyberspace, only really remembering being in excruciating pain from having my digital hand and arm blown off by the netrunner, but going through the recordings had made it obvious: Kill Joy had interposed himself between the netrunner and myself to block the final fireball. Naturally, the Kill Joy in the recording had played it off as an accident, but there was absolutely zero chance that this was true. Kill Joy was to Cyberspace like a fish to water. There were no accidents to his movements within the digital realm, especially not since he was the AI that governed the entire thing. He knew the fireball would fly in exactly that trajectory, before the netrunner had even conceived of throwing it. When questioned today, however, the AI repeated once again that no such thing had happened, stating that the governing AI could not interfere in such a way and that it had not done so at any point. This one was a bit more puzzling than the issue with the disconnect, but after another round of diagnostics returned the exact same signature and style of ¡°breach¡±, I simply filed it away as some sort of System-caused anomaly. It couldn¡¯t be good for any AI to suddenly be invaded and lose access to core functions, so slight malfunctions like this weren¡¯t entirely out of the realm of possibility in my mind. Ultimately, however, the session ended with Kill Joy congratulating me on my first successful Cyberspace outing¡ªpersonally, I didn¡¯t feel particularly successful considering that the AI literally had to break in order for me to make it out, but I¡¯d take what I could get; I needed all the advantages I could grab before meeting the Operator in just a few days time. Returning to the real world and slotting out the SPG-01 shard after roughly two hours of intense netrunning reviews, I stretched briefly before heading toward the living room. As expected, I found Gabriel lounging on the sofa, watching one of his terrible future-shows on TV. How he managed to stomach that absolute slop, I would probably never understand, but who was I to deny my brother a few hours of enjoyment on his double-shift days? I plopped down next to him, feeling like I hadn¡¯t really spent any time with Gabe lately¡ªit was about time for some sibling bonding, even if just to make sure he didn¡¯t feel like I was cutting him out again. ¡°So, what¡¯s this one about?¡± I asked casually, my voice seemingly startling him as his head snapped toward me. Settling back into a more comfortable position after his surprise, Gabriel gave me a lazy smile. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s kind of garbage. It¡¯s a sci-fi series, but the first season just doesn¡¯t seem to end. Usually a good thing, more to watch, right? But it just feels like it¡¯s dragging on forever¡­ I don¡¯t even really remember what¡¯s going on in the story anymore, except that they¡¯re always fighting.¡± He shrugged and added, ¡°But hey, what can I say? I still enjoy it. The action scenes are amazing, so who really cares if the story gets lost in the weeds. Mark, one of my coworkers at the store, says the story is amazing if you actually pay attention¡ªI call bullshit, but whatever. How have you been doing recently, Sera? You good?¡± His eyes carefully studied me, looking for any signs that I wasn¡¯t having a good time¡ªbig-brother eyes, I coined them. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m doing great! Been working through the shard you got me. I haven¡¯t forgotten about paying you back for that, so just you wait!¡± I replied enthusiastically, playing it up for him to put his mind at ease. Grimacing at the memory, I added, ¡°Had a bit of a run-in with netrunning burnout recently, as you were probably able to¡­ well, smell.¡± I wanted to make sure to include some of my failures and explain some of the odd things surrounding me recently¡ªthere was no way Gabriel hadn¡¯t noticed something was off yesterday; he might be a bit of a blank, but he wasn¡¯t that much of one. ¡°So that¡¯s what that was¡­ I was wondering, you know? But didn¡¯t wanna pry. Thanks for sharing. Stay safe with that, alright? Netrunning burnout can literally kill you, but I guess the shard should prevent that anyway¡ªI¡¯m glad to hear you¡¯re making progress, Sera,¡± Gabriel replied with a mixture of worry and warmth that sent tingles down my spine. It felt odd to have someone genuinely care about me; I hadn¡¯t had much of that in my past life, so it was nice to be on the receiving end of this kind of affection for once. ¡°And don¡¯t worry about paying it back, I¡ª¡± ¡°Nuh-uh! I¡¯m paying it all back! With interest!¡± I interrupted him forcefully. This was definitely something I wouldn¡¯t budge on. I might be broke as all hell right now, but that would change the moment I could get my hands on the Operator licence. Operators made bank, after all. Gabriel sighed heavily and then chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯ll hold you to that then. But seriously, take it easy. Burnout¡¯s no joke.¡± I nodded, appreciating his concern. ¡°I will. I¡¯ve got a lot to learn still, but I¡¯ll be careful, I promise.¡± We settled into a comfortable silence, the TV show¡¯s explosions and laser beams filling the room. It felt good to just sit there with my brother, even if the show was terrible. For a moment, I could forget about the chaos of netrunning, the wild corporate politics I had somehow stumbled into with the dojo crew, and the looming threat of tomorrow¡¯s data collection mission. Here, on the couch with Gabe, things were simple. And that was more than good enough for me today.
Finishing up slightly earlier than usual at Mr. Shori¡¯s the next day, I made my way back home to prepare for the third data collection mission. I had definitely learned my lesson from the debacle that had been the second one, so I wasn¡¯t going to leave anything up to chance this time around¡ªthe full-on prep phase had started way earlier in the day already, so I just had to put everything together at home now. On my way up the elevator, I quickly checked the day¡¯s gains; for they were more than plentiful and would likely come in handy for the job as well.
[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 08:00:00 [System]: 600 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: Reflex Attribute has reached 5. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 0xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. Edge Attribute requirements not met to increase Level. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: Edge Attribute has reached 4. [System]: [Stealth] Skill has reached Level 4. [System]: 200xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [CQC] Skill. [System]: [CQC] Skill has reached Level 1.
[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 0xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. Tech Attribute requirements not met to increase Level. [System]: 800xp (+400xp Bonus) gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: Tech Attribute has reached 3. [System]: [Cooking] Skill has reached Level 3. Gained one [Cooking] Perk Point. [System]: 200xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: [Negotiation] Skill has reached Level 2. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
I had ranked up in three different Attributes¡ªReflex, Edge, and Tech¡ªas well as four different Skills¡ª[Stealth], [CQC], [Cooking] and [Negotiation]. The amount of knowledge and muscle memory I had gained in the first half of the day was downright staggering. My [Stealth] and [Cooking] levels had been a long time coming, held back only by missing Attribute requirements. But thanks to my new Bonus Experience auto-application policy, I was finally rectifying that issue. [CQC], on the other hand, was quite new. Stolen story; please report. I had just started including Miss K¡¯s home-training regimen into my usual workout routine this very morning, but it was paying dividends already. The first level of the Skill brought a significant amount of baseline muscle memory that I was thrilled to have before heading out for the data collection. First and foremost, my basic punch had gained some serious heft behind it¡ªthe one Miss K had wanted me to master. Surprisingly enough, levelling up [CQC] and the accompanying muscle memory download had been quite different from the usual. Normally, the System rammed the information into my brain and body, essentially creating every synapse, muscle, and nerve connection from scratch. But with the first level of [CQC], it had been a lot gentler. It merely refined the existing connections and memory I had started to build thanks to Miss K¡¯s training, instead of overwriting them entirely. I wondered if this had some other side effects, like maybe the muscle memory download was more substantial because it had pre-existing things to work off of¡ªa kind of percentage buff or something. In the game, there hadn¡¯t been any such feature, but that made sense since the player characters didn¡¯t have real muscles or brains to work with¡ªthey were just video game characters, after all. Nevertheless, my upgrades in both Edge, Reflex, and [Stealth] were undoubtedly going to come in handy for this next part. Edge always offered a wide variety of inconspicuous movement upgrades, while Reflex helped keep me agile and sure-footed. Together, they were an unbeatable team for enhancing my natural stealthiness. Not to mention the actual [Stealth] Skill upgrade, which had drastically increased my ability to remain hidden. I was almost at the point where I felt confident in my ability to stay out of sight if I wanted to. I still doubted I could fool Vega or any of the more experienced operatives he had, but I was now fairly confident I could at least make someone like Jade think I knew what I was doing¡ªan important part of today¡¯s plans. As the elevator dinged and opened on the 43rd floor, I continued to make my way home and pulled up another System Interface. I had some additional Skill-shuffling to do before I forgot about it again with today¡¯s busy schedule. Pulling up the [Skill Selection] Interface, I checked out the overflow pool of Skills I had unlocked but didn¡¯t have the necessary Skill Slots to equip immediately. Since the System''s first forced refactoring, any additional Skills I unlocked along the way had gone straight into this pool, waiting for me to throw something out and equip them instead at my own leisure¡ªa way more elegant solution than the horrifying experience of my body being locked by an outside force; that much was a given.
[----- Skill Selection -----] Replace any of your existing Skills with available options from the pool. Available Skills in Pool: - [Drawing] - [Intimidation] - [Sword & Shield] - [Boxing]
The list wasn¡¯t exhaustive so far, but it was bound to continue to grow, given that I was already maxed out on my Skill slots and was quite far from unlocking any additional ones. With a quick selection and mental confirmation, I switched out one of my Skills that I hadn¡¯t really found much use for yet¡ªI was going to need the new one a lot more in the coming days and weeks.
[System]: [Tracking] Skill has been discarded and added to the [Skill Selection] interface for later retrieval. [System]: [Intimidation] Skill has been unlocked. [System]: 100xp gained for [Intimidation] Skill.
I had initially considered dropping [Lip-Reading] instead, but I figured it had more applications than [Tracking] did inside the city; you never knew when you would end up a window away from some important conversation or another, after all. Regardless, having [Intimidation] available to level up now was going to be quite important. While I had initially wanted to stay away from getting into any trouble that might require something like this, I wasn¡¯t naive enough to believe I could do the job of an Operator without at least some level of unscrupulous behaviour. And anyway, as long as [Intimidation] kept me from gaining further experience in the [Murder] Skill, or one of its siblings, I was more than happy to pour my heart and soul into it. With that in mind, I also added the Skill to my automatic bonus experience policy as well. I needed it as high as I could manage as fast as possible if I was going to interact with Vega and his crew more often in the near future¡ªI was under no illusion that the man wouldn¡¯t reach out to me at some stage again. Finally, I locked in my newest two Perk choices for both [Acrobatics] and the newly unlocked [Cooking] Perk as well¡ªI wanted to be as prepared as I could be, even if the [Cooking] one was unlikely to make a huge difference.
[System]: [Resourceful Chef] (Cooking) Perk acquired. [Resourceful Chef] (Cooking) Waste not, want not! You gain the ability to elevate the quality of cooking materials, treating them as if they were one grade higher for crafting purposes.
[System]: [Parkour Mastery] (Acrobatics) Perk acquired. [Parkour Mastery] (Acrobatics) Over and Under! You gain the ability to navigate the environment more fluidly, chaining moves like wall-runs, vaults, and jumps without losing speed. Knowledge and muscle-memory is determined by the knowledge-level of the Skill.
Locking in the [Cooking] Perk first, as it felt like an easy choice to make the most out of the few materials I could reliably get my hands on at the moment, I felt a light tingle spread over my body¡ªnothing crazy, nothing too fancy, but a vast number of recipes and cooking procedures immediately sprang to mind whenever I thought of one of the ingredients inside Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. A giddy chuckle escaped me as I thought about trying out different recipes and surprising Mr. Shori with my new creations. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. The [Acrobatics] Perk, however, was a different story altogether. The moment I locked in the Perk, I felt like a truck had been slammed right down onto my body from above and I skidded across the hallway¡¯s floor as I lost my balance immediately. A flood of information surged through me, making my head spin as I absorbed the new knowledge and muscle memory associated with the [Parkour Mastery] Perk. My muscles twitched involuntarily as the System rewired my neural pathways to incorporate the advanced techniques and principles of parkour. Images and sensations flashed through my mind in rapid succession: The feeling of my feet landing perfectly on narrow ledges, the sensation of vaulting over obstacles with ease, the instinctual timing required to execute a flawless wall run. It was like I had spent years practising, honing my skills to perfection, all condensed into a few intense moments of download. I could almost feel the texture of rock-crete walls beneath my fingertips, the rough surface of rooftops under my feet, and the rush of wind against my face as I leaped from one building to another. My body instantly felt lighter, more responsive, as if it had been fine-tuned for maximum agility and precision. As the initial shock subsided, I slowly pushed myself up from the floor, testing my newfound abilities with a few experimental movements. I bounced on the balls of my feet, feeling the explosive power in my legs, then executed a series of quick, fluid motions¡ªvaulting over a non-existent, low barrier, rolling smoothly upon landing, and springing back to my feet with effortless grace. The movements felt natural, like I had been doing this all my life. The knowledge aspect was similarly comprehensive, giving me an understanding of not just the physical techniques but also the mental strategies required to navigate urban environments efficiently. I instinctively knew how to plan routes, identify the best surfaces to push off from, and maintain my momentum through a series of complex movement chains and manoeuvres. A grin spread across my face as I realised just how much potential this Perk truly unlocked. [Parkour Mastery] had always been a must-have Perk in Cyberpunk games, due to their penchant for being set in urban environments, but now, that this was my actual life and I didn¡¯t just gain the ability to hold down a button at specific points in the world to traverse obstacles, but instead actually gained the whole slew of knowledge and muscle memory to make use of it, whenever I wanted? This was an absolutely game-changing Perk. It might very well be the most powerful one I had unlocked so far, alongside [Ambidexterity]. Downright giddy from the tremendous power-ups I had gotten over the past few hours, I rushed home even faster than I had initially intended, my feet practically flying through the hallways of the 43rd floor. Arriving home, I quickly jumped into the shower to get rid of the food stall smell before slipping into my Operator outfit¡ªcombat knife and throwing knives naturally tucked into their respective holsters for easy retrieval. I also put the Hypercoagulin Injector into one of the pockets on my right hip; just in case things ended up going tits up more than expected¡ªbetter to be over-prepared than end up in a situation like last time and nearly bleed out. Finally, there was only one last part that needed preparing. Calling up my Cerebral Interface, I went into my contact list and started a call. A brief moment of waiting later, the other side picked up. ¡°Huh? Who the fuck¡¯s this? Where did you get this ID?¡± Hearing her voice for the first time in several days, I had to admit I was getting cold feet, but we were already connected, so there was no turning back now. ¡°I got a mission to run. I need you to come with me, watch my back,¡± I replied with as much conviction as I could muster. ¡°Vega would undoubtedly want to have eyes on me for this, so as the liaison between us, you¡¯re up, Jade.¡± A brief moment of heavy silence followed before the girl on the other side spoke up again, ¡°What¡¯s the mission? Where do we meet?¡± I had thought about this whole plan for quite a few days now, practically ever since I had left Vega¡¯s office and requested to meet with an Operator. With his surveillance being thrown into the open and me essentially forcing a concession of Jade being my in-between, I knew I¡¯d have to throw Vega a bone here and there¡ªgive them something to report on and brood over while I reaped the benefits on the down low. Since it was Jade that was coming with me, I was hoping that Vega wouldn¡¯t resort to any additional heavy-hitters to put on me, leaving me in this strange twilight zone of ¡°I don¡¯t know what they think I am, but I really don¡¯t want them to think otherwise¡± that I had somehow managed to find myself in. By inviting Jade to the gig directly, I was very much hoping to circumvent any potential issues of her or any other operatives of Vega¡¯s, fucking up my data collection¡ªagain. Not to mention, I was essentially walking on their enemy¡¯s turf with this one, so having a member of the Clawed Beasts with direct ties to Vega accompany me could only end up being beneficial. If we got caught, Vega would undoubtedly move heaven and earth to get Jade back¡ªand I¡¯d be right beside her. Sure, I also ran the risk of numerous things going wrong, such as the two of us getting killed as a result of gang-politics or whatever, but at the end of the day, I was going into a dangerous situation one way or another. I had chosen to go in guns blazing for once, instead of simply hoping that things would end up fine if I just stayed quiet enough. ¡°Mission¡¯s none of your business, Jade. Suffice it to say we¡¯re picking something up,¡± I replied hard, channelling some of my Edge to make my voice seem cooler and more calculated than I really was. ¡°Meet me at public elevator I-X56 on the 38th.¡± I waited half a second, timing my addendum to interrupt her attempt at protesting. ¡°And yes, it¡¯s a floor owned by the Red Snakes and Golden Phoenix crew; so be on your best behaviour. You¡¯re here to watch my back, not cause undue trouble. I trust we understand each other? I¡¯m not going to princess-carry you out of danger if you mess this up for me; not again. You can handle a bit of gang-espionage, right?¡± I was being a lot harder on Jade than might have been necessary, but there were two reasons for my choice of words. First and foremost, I wanted to portray the exact image that I thought they had of me¡ªsome kind of experienced Operator. I still hadn¡¯t quite figured out how they had come to this conclusion, or what exactly that conclusion really was, but it was obvious to me that Vega and the rest of his crew had somehow pegged me for somebody far more capable than I was¡ªI was going to have to play the part if I wanted to keep my leverage. The other reason, and that one might honestly be the more prevalent of the two, was that I was still pretty damn pissed at Jade for playing with my heart¡ªoh, and of course the nearly getting me killed part. ¡°Yeah¡­ Yeah, I can do that,¡± Jade replied, her voice filling with more conviction the second time around. ¡°See you on the 38th then, Ela.¡± With that, she dropped the call and I breathed out a sigh of relief. ¡®That went better than I thought¡­ I had expected a bit more of a fight,¡¯ I thought to myself, but was positively surprised when I noticed a pending System Notification from the brief conversation.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Intimidation] Skill.
¡®Huh¡­? That seems excessive for such a short call. Not to mention¡­ I didn¡¯t exactly say anything that should count as intimidating, did I¡­? What the hell is the experience calculation based on here?!¡¯ I mulled over that thought for a moment, but ultimately decided to let it slide for now. There were more pressing matters at hand. Heading back to the mirror, I double-checked my gear one last time. Everything was in place. I could almost feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through my veins as I steeled myself for the mission ahead. ¡®Alright, Sera, you¡¯ve got this,¡¯ I thought, giving myself a mental pep talk. ¡®Just play it cool, stay focused, and remember the plan. Get in, pick up the data, get out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. No trouble at all...¡¯ With one last look around my room to make sure I didn¡¯t leave any crucial items behind, I headed out the apartment door, the beep of it electronically locking behind me resonating like a countdown to the mission that lay ahead¡­ Chapter 83 - Back Together PoV: Jade ¡°She¡¯s making you go to the 38th?! I¡¯m going to fucking kill that bitch!¡± Sapphira raged, much as Jade had expected after breaking the news. It had only been a few days since the big showdown involving Ela, herself, Sapphira, Ruby, and Vega, during which she had ended up becoming the official liaison between the Clawed Beasts¡ªor rather, Vega specifically¡ªand the enigmatic girl that went by Ela. Jade had secretly hoped that Ela would simply forget all about it until Vega decided to offer her a mission, but unfortunately for her, it seemed she wouldn¡¯t get so lucky. Ela had definitely remembered; not just the agreement with Vega, that she¡¯d allow Jade to continue to look over her shoulder and keep an eye on her, but apparently also the fact that Jade had somewhat betrayed her. If the location that Ela was bringing her to was any indication, the girl still had some grudges. While they had never really been in an alliance of any sort, or friends for that matter, the fact that she had spied on Ela was clearly a sore spot for the girl; much to Jade¡¯s chagrin. ¡°You know that Vega won¡¯t let you do that, Sapphi,¡± Ruby replied with her typical nonchalance. ¡°He wants that girl in his pocket, and I can¡¯t blame him. You saw her just disappear from the office yourself. Let¡¯s be entirely real here: Do you even truly believe you could kill her if you tried? We know absolutely nothing about her, except that even Vega is on guard around her.¡± Jade was glad to have the level-headed Ruby in the same room for this, as her calm and logical demeanour always served as a balm for Sapphira¡¯s more boisterous and hot-headed one. When she had been called by Ela, the three of them had been relaxing in their shared apartment inside the Clawed Beasts¡¯ territory on the 21st floor, so Jade hadn¡¯t exactly had the chance to keep the fact that she was going to meet with the girl again quiet. The moment she had ended the call, Sapphira had been all up in her business, asking what it was all about, immediately getting very overprotective of her¡ªas per usual. Now, she was simply looking from the sidelines as she gathered her equipment to meet Ela on the 38th, seeing Sapphira shoot a venomous look at Ruby, who simply met her gaze with a raised eyebrow as if to repeat her previous inquiry. ¡°Ah, fuck!¡± Sapphira finally conceded, kicking the nearby sofa in frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Alright?! I don¡¯t fucking know. But that¡¯s the point, isn¡¯t it? We don¡¯t fucking know anything about that bitch! Except that she keeps putting our Jade in danger; how can we just let her do that? How can Vega?!¡± Sliding the combat knife into its holster at her back, Jade turned towards Sapphira, ready to defend herself. ¡°You know, I can look out for myself as well! You don¡¯t have to always baby me like this! I spoke up during the meeting and got myself in this position. Vega trusts me to do this! So let me do this, Sapphi. You heard Ela during the talks too. She wouldn¡¯t take me anywhere she wouldn¡¯t go herself, and we¡¯re literally meeting up there to go together. It¡¯s just a pickup of some sort, so there¡¯s not even any real danger involved...¡± She deflated a bit at the end, as she didn¡¯t actually believe most of what she had just said, specifically the part where she claimed there was no real danger, considering that she was literally being asked to walk around on one of the main floors of their rival gangs without any real backup. But she still felt that Sapphira was being unnecessarily overprotective as she always was. Sure, the last time Ela and she had been on a mission like this, she had nearly died, but those were entirely different circumstances. She had simply messed up once¡ªand that was primarily because she hadn¡¯t gone with Ela but rather tried to trail her and failed miserably as she hadn¡¯t fully understood the difference in their skill levels. Jade had played through that entire series of events hundreds of times in her head by now, realising all the stupid mistakes she had made, to make sure they would never happen again. Now that she didn¡¯t have to worry about Ela finding out about her spying on the girl, however, the majority of instances where she had messed up the last time around were already removed. Having to hide from two different sources was a lot harder than from one, after all. Not to mention, Ela wanted to pick something up for some kind of mission, so it was unlikely that the girl would allow anything to get between her and her goal¡ªwhich meant that, as long as Jade seemed eager to help out, Ela would likely be on her side for this. A bit of wishful thinking, sure, but at least it was an educated wish. Taking a deep breath, Jade finished packing her gear and headed for the door but was stopped by a worry-faced Sapphira, who pulled her into a bear hug. ¡°Don¡¯t risk anything for this bitch, you hear me?¡± The tall woman mumbled into her hair from above, as Jade was pressed firmly into her ample chest. ¡°First sign of trouble, you run and call us. We¡¯ll be on standby. I¡¯ll get Rico, Law, and Mivol ready as well, just in case. Promise me?¡± Her voice completely muffled by her cheeks being squished into Sapphira¡¯s bosom, Jade replied, ¡°P¡¯omi¡¯sh!¡± With one last squeeze that robbed Jade of her breath, Sapphira finally let her go, sending her stumbling back and breathing heavily¡ªher face flushed and slightly sweaty from nearly getting choked to death. ¡°You need to stop doing that to Jade, Sapphi,¡± Ruby chastised, lounging on the large sofa and watching TV. ¡°You¡¯re gonna end up actually suffocating her at some point, you absolute blank.¡± ¡°I would never!¡± Sapphira immediately replied, her face a picture of shock. Turning towards Jade, she added, ¡°Jade, tell her I would never! You¡¯re fine!¡± Dodging past the incredulous, stunlocked Sapphira and out the door, Jade rushed down the stairs and yelled back, ¡°Sorry, Sapphi, I gotta go! Don¡¯t wanna be late!¡± She heard a final ¡°Jade! Tell her!¡± echoing from the staircase as she left the apartment building and hurried toward the elevator that Ela had designated as their meeting place, a big grin plastered on her face. Sapphira had her moments of being overprotective and annoying, but she only meant well. It was reassuring and endearing to know that her big sister always had her back, even if it was a little suffocating at times¡ªsometimes quite literally. Her worries about the mission were squarely laid to rest for now, thanks to her sister¡¯s antics, so she could fully focus on making sure she didn¡¯t mess anything up unnecessarily. On the way to the elevator, she quickly prepared an emergency message to Sapphira, Ruby, and Vega, just in case. She had promised her sister, after all. And if there was one thing Jade was sure of, it was that breaking promises was a big no-go between sisters¡­
Her nerves returned with a vengeance as the elevator ascended towards the 38th floor. Jade double-checked her gear, making sure her hood was properly covering her hair and casting the rest of her face in shadows so no Red Snakes or Golden Phoenix members would be able to identify her at first glance¡ªnot that they should be able to anyway. Much like Sapphira, Ruby, Citrina, and Emira, she wasn¡¯t exactly a public figure of the Clawed Beasts. They were Vega¡¯s ¡°pet project,¡± as the higher-ups liked to offhandedly insult them. But that was fine with Jade. Better the higher-ups underestimated them than be forced to be part of the gang nonsense that got them nowhere. Vega¡¯s plans were a lot larger than that, and to realise them, he needed a group of elites to make things work from the shadows¡ªJade and her sisters. While it sometimes led to issues with members of the Byte Wolves and Clawed Beasts as well, since Jade and her sisters couldn¡¯t exactly pull any rank outside of name-dropping Vega, more often than not, being unknown was more of a help than a hindrance. It was what Jade was banking on in agreeing to meet up with Ela for her mission. She could, theoretically, have refused the offer to accompany the girl, but that would have brought with it quite a number of consequences that she couldn¡¯t quite foresee herself yet. She had put herself in this situation when she had spoken up during the meeting with Vega, completely taken aback by the fact that Ela had somehow managed to get Vega to owe her something before the two of them had ever even met. So she would have to see this through now, one way or another. As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Jade took a deep breath and stepped out onto the 38th floor for the first time. She kept her head low but scanned the area carefully, both to look for Ela and to keep an eye out for any potential Golden Phoenix or Red Snake members that might get her into trouble. The 38th floor was a bustling market, but one that was held in stark contrast to the one on the 21st floor, that Jade was most familiar with. Directly opposite the elevators, a myriad of shops and stores lined the wide walkway thoroughfares, their neon advertisements flashing prominently. Unlike the 21st floor, which featured a lot of stalls, this floor opted for more sophisticated methods of selling equipment and gear to people. Her eyes caught on a number of store names and symbols, each with vibrant displays showcasing their offerings. The majority of stores in her field of view peddled clothing and equipment, their holographic ads highlighting the latest in tactical wear and high-tech gadgets. However, a few rare ones appeared to be straight-up weapon shops, causing Jade to raise an interested eyebrow. She hadn¡¯t known that the Golden Phoenix and Red Snakes had connections allowing them to openly present weapon stores on their floors. ¡®Vega undoubtedly knows about this; but I should let my sisters know, at least,¡¯ she thought to herself as she made a mental note to mention it to Sapphira and the rest. As Jade blended in with the crowd, she continued to scan the area. The people here moved with purpose, creating a dynamic and slightly chaotic atmosphere. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. The air was filled with a cacophony of voices, the hum of neon lights, and the occasional sharp bark of a vendor trying to attract customers. The smell of various street foods from the rare food stalls near the thoroughfare wafted through the air as well, mingling with the scent of people and the musk of clothing. She searched for Ela for quite a while, her nerves causing her to jump at every little sound and movement. Just as she was beginning to worry she might have missed her, a hand landed on her shoulder, making her startle and move to defend herself. She almost pulled out her knife when she heard a familiar voice. ¡°Good to see you made it, Jade. Let¡¯s go,¡± Ela said, her tone calm and composed. Jade let out a shaky breath, releasing the tension in her muscles and pushing the knife fully back into its holster. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± she muttered, falling in step beside Ela as they navigated through the throng of people. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Ela replied coolly. ¡°Feared I¡¯d lose you in the crowd.¡± ¡®Yeah, right. Like that would fucking happen,¡¯ Jade thought to herself, annoyed at the girl¡¯s obvious lie. Ela had undoubtedly scared her like that, just to reiterate the standing between them; Jade being the one that had been invited to the ride-along, with Ela being in the lead. They weaved through the crowded thoroughfares, Ela leading the way with seemingly practised ease. Jade followed closely, trying her best to emulate the girl¡¯s downright effortless movement through the crowd, as her eyes were still darting around, taking in the various stores and the people milling about¡ªscanning for any potential threats. But luckily, she found none that were immediately problematic to her. While her eyes managed to snatch on a few obvious gang members; wearing the colours or even insignia¡¯s of the Golden Phoenix and Red Snakes, none were close-by or paid her any attention. As they continued to make their way to their destination, Ela slowed down and glanced back at Jade. ¡°Remember, we¡¯re here to pick something up and get out. Keep your head down and your eyes open. Got it?¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Jade nodded, despite feeling a bit confused. ¡®Why the fuck did she tell me that now? Is she worried that I forgot why we¡¯re here or something?¡¯ she thought to herself, trying to make sense of Ela¡¯s sudden reiteration of their game plan. ¡®And ¡°Keep your head down and eyes open¡±¡­?¡¯ A realisation dawned on her that made her flinch slightly, hunching down just a bit further to try and blend in with the crowd even more. ¡®Fuck! She must¡¯ve seen somebody looking at me for longer than necessary! How did I mess up like this already?!¡¯ She bumped into a couple of people as her thoughts spiralled, before she managed to catch herself and focus back on dodging the myriad of people in the thoroughfare, following behind the hooded figure of Ela, who seemed to wade through the crowd like she was made of water. Jade¡¯s frustrations rose as they continued moving through the floor, feeling like she was being made fun of by the other girl. Despite them being seemingly around the same age, Jade had long realised that Ela was worlds beyond her own skill level in a lot of things. The fact that she struggled to keep up with the other girl inside the crowd, while Ela refused to even consider slowing down, was downright infuriating. ¡®Do you want to show off and have me fuck up on purpose or something?! What the fuck is wrong with you; slow the fuck down!¡¯ Jade cursed out the other girl inside her own mind, breathing heavily as she focused down even further on dodging the vast number of people in the thoroughfare, trying to keep up with Ela, who seemed to just speed up every time she managed to get closer. Finally, Ela veered out of the crowd ahead of her, and the two of them slipped into a narrow alleyway between two stores nearby, the sounds of the market fading slightly as they moved further away from the main thoroughfare. The dimly lit alley was a stark contrast to the bustling market-street outside, the air cooler and carrying the faint smell of damp concrete and haphazardly discarded trash. Ela abruptly stopped as they got about twenty metres into the alley and turned around, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal her strikingly colourful hair, a mix of hues that Jade still thought were utterly ridiculous, considering their price tags. ¡°Alright, so here¡¯s the plan,¡± Ela started without giving Jade any time to think. ¡°We gotta head to a store called Salt ¡®N¡¯ Guns; it¡¯s about three blocks south-west of us. I need to pick up something from that location, so I want you to help me keep an eye on things and warn me if you see anything suspicious.¡± As if struck by an idea mid-rundown, Ela interjected herself and asked, ¡°Any Golden Phoenix or Red Snakes members that might give us trouble, that you know of?¡± Jade was caught off-guard by the abrupt question but tried her best to think of anything that could help; she didn¡¯t want to be dead weight on this mission, lest Ela decided she wasn¡¯t cut out to be the liaison between her and Vega after all. She had already messed up her very first solo mission from him once, and she wasn¡¯t about to do it again. ¡°None that immediately come to mind for this floor,¡± Jade replied after a brief moment. ¡°Their heavy hitters are usually closer to the contested floors, in case somebody starts shit. I¡¯ll admit I¡¯ve not been to the 38th before, so I¡¯m not too versed in who might be here and who might not. As long as we keep a low profile, get in and out quickly, we should be good.¡± Ela stared at her briefly, almost making Jade fidget under the intense gaze, before nodding to herself. ¡°Good, good. Very good. Yeah, we can work with that,¡± she muttered, turning away for a brief moment as if to check something, then turning back to continue her rundown. ¡°I have a passcode for the drop-box at the shop. The owner¡¯s working with us, to a degree. So we just swoop by, open the box, take the stuff, and leave. It should be simple; just stay on your guard, yeah?¡± ¡®Is she worried I¡¯ll mess it up again? Is that why she¡¯s giving me another rundown?¡¯ Jade thought to herself as she looked at the other girl¡¯s face¡ªa perfect mask of coolness plastered on it. ¡®Great. You mess up once, and everyone thinks you¡¯re a complete blank!¡¯ ¡°Yeah, should be easy,¡± Jade replied, trying to mirror the coolness in Ela¡¯s voice. ¡°Get there, get the stuff, leave. Easy enough.¡± Ela nodded multiple times, a weird tick that Jade hadn¡¯t noticed before. Then, Ela removed her cloak and gestured for Jade to do the same. ¡°We¡¯ll be too conspicuous walking up to a gun store in hooded cloaks. Best if we lose them here. Pack the cloak away or just toss it. We¡¯ll pretend we¡¯re just friends out shopping and interested in taking a shooting class or something,¡± Ela ordered, crumpling up her own cloak and packing it into a small backpack she had brought. Jade cursed under her breath, realising she hadn¡¯t thought about bringing anything like that. She ended up taking off her cloak and folding it into a thick scarf, draping it around her neck. The light cloth of the cloak thankfully wasn¡¯t too problematic to wear this way. As her eyes darted back up, she took in Ela¡¯s mission outfit up close for the first time¡ªnot counting the time the two of them had run for their lives and were being riddled with gunshot wounds, of course. The girl was wearing a sleek, practical, and surprisingly sturdy set of clothes, with a bandolier of dangerous-looking throwing knives attached to her chest. They were mostly hidden underneath her top, but Jade still caught a glimpse of them while the girl was packing away her cloak. On her back, much like Jade herself, she had a holster for a combat knife as well. What struck Jade the most, however, was that every piece looked downright pristine¡ªlike this was the first time she had brought any of it out, which, for all intents and purposes, might be true. Ela had been playing her cards close to the chest so far, clearly hiding a lot of her assets, connections, and skills. It made sense that she¡¯d only now start showing off some of her better gear, now that both Ela and Vega were aware of each other¡¯s presence in such a way. Jade felt a bit out of her depth with this whole situation, but she reminded herself that Ela, despite the gap in their skills, was still around her age¡ªunless she truly was some kind of black-project corpo agent that just looked like a teenager through some messed up experiment or another. What truly unnerved Jade, however, was the fact that the girl was packing some serious heat in the form of those throwing knives. While she was usually more afraid of guns in general and Ela seemingly only had five knives on her person, Jade had seen first-hand what the freakish girl could do with random scrap picked up from an alley. Her hand was still not fully healed from where the random shrapnel the girl had thrown at her captors had pierced straight through¡ªa painful reminder of the true level of danger this girl represented. She didn¡¯t even want to imagine what kind of destruction Ela could wreak with those throwing knives she had holstered. ¡®I really hope we don¡¯t run into anyone¡­ That girl¡¯s a loose cannon. She straight-up murdered those guys that caught me; no hesitation at all,¡¯ Jade thought to herself apprehensively, remembering Ela¡¯s words during the discussion with Vega. ¡®I don¡¯t have much sympathy for a lot of the trash in the Golden Phoenix or Red Snakes, but they¡¯re mostly just kids with nowhere else to go¡ªmuch like any kids joining gangs in this city. I would hate to see them die just because they ran into this lunatic on the wrong day¡­¡¯ Her thoughts were broken when Ela ushered her forward. ¡°Let¡¯s go. No more time to waste.¡± Jade continued to follow Ela through the alleyways of the 38th floor for another ten minutes, until they stopped again between another two stores. She had kept her eyes open the entire time, carefully scanning any and all people on the streets whenever they crossed into another alley. Most of the time, they were ignored, but a few times, eyes had followed them. It was to be expected, really, considering that two teenagers were just rushing from one alley to another¡ªit was bound to draw some kind of attention from somebody; but Jade figured that Ela had it under control. She was the expert, after all. When they finally stopped, Ela turned to face her, her expression as cool and composed as ever. ¡°Alright, this is the spot. Salt ¡®N¡¯ Guns is just up ahead. Stick close, we¡¯ll play teenagers looking to get some lessons on guns. Just pretend we¡¯re friends; should be second-nature to you.¡± Jade almost flinched at those last words, but when she scanned Ela¡¯s emotionless facade, she realised that it had been meant more as a compliment¡ªnot any real bad blood between them for the brief period she had posed as Aki. ¡°You got it,¡± Jade replied, nodding earnestly. This was something she was good at, Ela was right. Hooking her arm into Ela¡¯s, she felt the girl tighten up for just a moment as their arms touched¡ªlikely a natural defensive response from the experienced infiltrator. The two of them headed out onto the street, leisurely strolling towards the nearest store. ¡°I think you could really do with a new pair of shoes, Mabel,¡± Jade said, gesturing towards a pair being shown on an advertisement in one of the screens of the store in front of them. ¡°You¡¯ve been using these truly horrendous boots for quite a while now. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s time to be more fashionable?¡± Ela seemed to freeze up momentarily at that, likely surprised by how natural Jade had taken to the role, before she finally answered, almost mumbling, ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªI like them. What¡¯s wrong with my boots¡­?¡± Jade noted how sad and downright offended Ela¡¯s voice sounded and couldn¡¯t help but be impressed at the girl¡¯s ability to conjure up such immaculate emotions on the fly. ¡®She¡¯s good¡­ Very good,¡¯ she thought to herself with a bit of bitterness. She had always been one of the best at the interpersonal charade compared to the rest of the sisters, so she had hoped to have finally found something that she was unequivocally better at than Ela, but now, it seemed that Ela was also an expert at this. Jade wasn¡¯t going to give up this easily on her specialty, however. Ela had to have a weak spot in her skill set somewhere. The girl was too young to be an expert at absolutely everything, corpo black-site project or not. ¡°Oh, come on, Mabel,¡± Jade replied with some fake exasperation. ¡°Have you even been hit on by any boys since you started wearing those boots? What kind of guy would want someone with such trash taste in shoes, huh? Do some thinking, girl! Look at those, they would be way better!¡± She pointed at one of the advertised pairs of shoes, a garish neon-yellow colour with medium-sized heels underneath. They were absolutely hideous, of course, but Jade was just trying to keep up the conversation. They¡¯d move on to the gun store soon after. ¡°You¡­ You think they¡¯d suit me better?¡± Ela replied, her voice drenched in a level of uncertainty that made Jade envious. ¡®How does she do it?!¡¯ ¡°Absolutely! Although I think a teal or a cyan would work better, considering your hair,¡± she replied with an eager nod, obviously looking around the place as if to search for anyone to drag into the conversation and onto her side¡ªsecretly just to keep an eye on any potential gangers, of course. Ela remained silent for an awkwardly long time¡ªreally selling the uncertainty from before¡ªuntil she finally spoke up again, ¡°Ah¡ª! Maybe another time. Let¡¯s go to the gun store and get that lesson. Dad said he wouldn¡¯t let me try the Mirik until I had a certificate of attending at least one class.¡± Breathing a theatrical, loud, and defeated sigh, Jade let herself get pulled toward the Salt ¡®N¡¯ Guns store by Ela, trying to come up with another cover story or two, should the owner not be as much in Ela¡¯s pocket as the girl might have thought. Planning for too many things and overthinking was one of Jade¡¯s specialties. She¡¯d make absolutely sure this mission was a success, or at the very least, she wouldn¡¯t be an obstacle. The interaction just now was a good start, but they were far from done with Ela¡¯s collection mission¡­ Chapter 84 - Performance Walking arm in arm with Jade toward the gun store, I couldn¡¯t help but mull over her earlier words, looking down at myself. ¡®What is wrong with my boots...?¡¯ While we¡¯d both agreed to play the part, and Jade was nailing it by talking constantly without really saying much of substance, her jab at my combat boots had been unexpected¡ªand, honestly, a little hurtful. I loved my combat boots. They were the perfect fit, tough as nails, kept my feet dry, and provided top-notch footing for anything I could possibly need to do. They were good boots. Very good. But I really never had thought about them from a fashion perspective... I wasn¡¯t exactly a fashionista in my past life, after all. Sure, "FashionSouls/Hunter" was the true endgame in any RPG, as everybody knew, and these combat boots definitely fit that vibe. But when it came to casual fashion¡ªthe kind of stuff your average person cared about¡ªmaybe they were a bit much after all. Jade had, of course, hit the nail on the head with her assumption as well. I really hadn¡¯t been hit on by anyone since I¡¯d entered this world, despite the fact that Sera was a lot prettier than I had ever been, especially now with a Body stat of 5 giving me some serious heft in all the right places. Not that I was particularly interested in getting hit on, of course. But still... It was something to think about. For reasons. Important reasons that definitely needed no further embellishment or explanation. Maybe it was because I was only 15¡ªor technically 17? if you considered Neon Dragons¡¯ 14-month years, when translated into my old world¡¯s 12 month cycle¡ªbut even then, wasn¡¯t this the age when people started noticing each other? You¡¯d think there¡¯d be at least some awkward flirting or something. Sure, I hadn¡¯t spent a lot of time outside my house just socialising, but the walk to Mr. Shori¡¯s and my more active role in the stall recently should have gotten some kind of attention from people, right? But nope, nothing. Not even a hint of it. I stole a glance at Jade as she kept chatting away, still locked into our cover story. Maybe there was something to what she said. Maybe it really was time to think about what I wore, even if just a little. After all, looking the part was important in every aspect, and if I could blend in better¡ªor stand out when I needed to¡ªit might just be another edge I could use in this crazy world. Frustrated with myself for being clueless about this stuff, I couldn¡¯t help but keep stewing over the issue. ¡®Damn, I really wish I had some more experience with fashion or whatever. Maybe Jade¡¯s onto something¡­ Should I actually get those shoes she pointed out with one of my future paychecks? They look like a complete eyesore to me, but she definitely seems to know what she¡¯s talking about¡­¡¯ I glanced back at the advertisement and internally cringed at the thought of myself wearing those garish shoes¡ªespecially those ridiculous, knife-like heels. I wasn¡¯t completely opposed to the occasional high-heel experiment, but these? They were way too sharp and impractically long to be anything close to comfortable or useful. Shaking my head to clear out those distracting thoughts, I reminded myself that this wasn¡¯t the time or place to be thinking about footwear. The mission was what mattered. We were just a few metres from the gun store, and I could feel Jade¡¯s uncertainty as she slowed down, torn between heading inside first or going straight to the deposit box, which sat conveniently in front of a large display screen. The screen was running an ad for a short-barrelled shotgun, showing a cartoonish character being attacked by what looked like a horde of mutant boar-like animals; they were down on the ground and getting gored fairly brutally. Then the scene abruptly rewound, and the character was handed the shotgun, suddenly mowing down the charging animals with reckless glee. The ad then took things to a whole new level of absurdity, showcasing various types of ammo¡ªeverything from basic buckshot to slugs and even more exotic things like dragon¡¯s breath rounds. And just when I thought it couldn¡¯t get more over-the-top, the herd was suddenly joined by a series of robotic boars; because of course there would be? Naturally, the character calmly loaded some EMP shells and took them down just as easily, however. The ad wrapped up with the main character standing victoriously atop a mountain of boar corpses¡ªboth organic and robotic¡ªraising the shotgun in triumph as triumphant music blared and the sun rose dramatically behind them. I couldn''t help but shake my head at the absurd display, utterly baffled by it. ¡®What the hell¡­? Who would ever be convinced to buy something because of an ad like that¡­?¡¯ Almost simultaneously, I heard Jade mutter under her breath, ¡°Man, I should get myself one of those shotguns¡­ They could come in real handy,¡± which made my head snap toward her, giving her an incredulous look. Jade immediately noticed my reaction and took a step back, holding up her hands defensively. ¡°Only for self-defence, of course! Like that character!¡± She pointed at the screen, which had already moved on to a different ad, this time for an automatic handgun that seemed just as over-the-top. I sighed, trying to wrap my head around the idea of Jade, of all people, wielding a shotgun inspired by a ridiculous ad like that. ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on the task at hand,¡± I replied, trying to steer the conversation back to the mission. With a quick nod from her, we both turned our attention back to the store ahead, the bright neon sign of "Salt ¡®N¡¯ Guns" flickering slightly in the dim light of the street. The sooner we got this done, the better. No distractions, no mistakes. We had a job to do, and I wasn¡¯t about to let some ridiculous ad or the idea of Jade with a shotgun throw us off track. "Let¡¯s head inside,¡± I decided, figuring that browsing the wares near the windows would give us a good excuse to scope out the area and keep an eye on anyone who might be tailing us or watching the drop box. Jade and I slipped into the store, and I immediately steered her toward a rack of pistols near the front, conveniently located right in front of the large-pane windows. The perfect spot to casually look around while pretending to be interested in the merchandise. ¡°Keep an eye out for anyone who looks like trouble,¡± I whispered, waiting for Jade¡¯s subtle nod of acknowledgment before grabbing a random gun from the rack. I tried to mimic the cool, confident way movie characters inspected firearms, turning it over in my hands as if I knew what I was doing. It was my first time holding a gun, and I was honestly surprised by the weight of it. It felt a lot heavier than I¡¯d expected, the cold metal grounding me in the moment. In hindsight, it made sense. You¡¯d want a gun to have some heft to it, something solid to help manage the recoil and keep it from jumping out of your hands every time you fired it. As I pretended to scrutinise the gun, I let my eyes wander, scanning the rest of the store through the reflection in the glass in front of me. The place was surprisingly well-stocked, with a variety of weapons lining the walls and racks. A few, rare customers milled about, some genuinely interested in the wares, others just as likely killing time or, like us, pretending to be something they weren¡¯t. Jade seemed to be doing the same, her gaze flicking from the weapons to the people around us, to outside the window and across the street. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the slight stiffness in the way she moved¡ªshe was on edge, and for good reason. This whole thing could go south at any moment. While nobody should be aware of our existence or the drop-off point, I was very much aware that plans didn¡¯t always go as one hoped¡ªthe last data collection being a prime example. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. We were here to pick something up, not get distracted by the fact that we were both way out of our comfort zones. I just had to keep it together long enough to get what we came for and get out. We spent a few more minutes making idle chatter, pretending to discuss the guns in front of us, all while subtly scoping out the area. I kept an eye on the patrons inside the store, while Jade had her focus on the street outside; surprisingly, we made a pretty solid team for this kind of thing. ¡°I can¡¯t really see much on the left-hand side because of the ad display, but the rest of the street looks clear. We should probably head to the drop box now, yeah?¡± Jade asked, her eyes flicking to mine for confirmation. I nodded, my gut telling me that now was as good a time as any. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s move before something changes. Better to be quick about it.¡± She was right¡ªon a floor like this, the situation could shift in an instant. After placing the gun back on the rack, I hooked my arm through Jade¡¯s again, and we strolled out of the store, trying to project the same casual energy we had going in. The moment we stepped outside, though, both of us tensed up, fully aware that we were now out in the open, exposed, and no longer in what could be considered a semi-safe space. The urge to sprint to the drop box, grab the data, and get the hell out of there was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to keep my pace steady, my steps even, and my demeanour relaxed. The drop box itself was a sizable, secure-looking container around three metres tall and two metres wide on each side, just big enough to accommodate a few weapons for delivery when the store owner wasn¡¯t around to receive them personally. It was large enough to be practical for its purpose, yet not so massive that it would tempt anyone to try and break into it¡ªespecially since Scavs weren¡¯t welcome inside the Megabuildings; the only ¡°people¡± insane enough to consider breaking into a drop box of a gun store a potentially viable endeavour. As we got closer to the box, the tension in my chest wound tighter with every step. Jade was just as keyed up as I was; I could sense it in the way she moved, her body language practically screaming that she was ready for anything. When we were just a few metres away from the box, I decided to play my part. ¡°Ahh¡­! My foot!¡± I yelped, letting my [Deception] and [[Perform]] Skills do the heavy lifting as I faked a limp, steering us directly toward the box. ¡°I think I twisted it¡­ Damn, that hurts!¡± Jade caught on right away, her reflexes sharp as ever. She half-carried me the rest of the way, gently leaning me against the large box. Without missing a beat, she dropped to her knees and carefully lifted my foot onto her knee, removing my boot with careful, yet surprisingly practised movements. She started to gently prod and examine my foot, pretending to check for any signs of injury. I had to fight the instinct to accidentally kick her in the face¡ªmy Ego Attribute came in clutch here once again, keeping me from reacting to the tickling sensation that threatened to break my focus. I needed to stay in the moment, to make this convincing; not alienate the only ally I had brought to this mission. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. While Jade busied herself with her part of the charade, I shifted my attention to the real task at hand, leaving my foot in her capable hands. Keeping my movements subtle, I reached for the keypad on the side of the box, my fingers moving swiftly and deliberately as I entered the code I had committed to memory. ¡®0-1-6-3-7-7-4-3,¡¯ I repeated silently to myself, each number falling into place as I punched it in, careful not to make a single mistake that could trip an alarm. After I pressed the confirmation button, there was a brief moment of tense silence, the kind that makes your pulse thrum in your ears. Then, a soft chime rang out, and the box unlocked with a low mechanical whirr. I took a quick look around, making sure that no one was paying us any attention. With Jade crouched in front of me, it was easy to keep our movements hidden from prying eyes. I carefully cracked the box open just enough to slip my hand inside. The last thing we needed was to draw attention by flinging it wide open. My fingers fumbled around the interior, brushing against cold metal and the occasional piece of equipment, but nothing that felt like the data-shard we were here for. Jade kept up her act admirably in the meantime, her hands still gently prodding my foot while she rambled about how I¡¯d be fine in a few minutes. Despite her convincing performance, I caught a flicker of interest in her eyes as she subtly tried to catch a glimpse of what I was doing. She had to be wondering what we were really here for. I hadn¡¯t exactly told her much, after all, just that we were picking something up. Given that we were at a gun store, she probably assumed it was some kind of weapon. The reality was a lot less exciting, but a hell of a lot more valuable, if I had pegged Mr. Stirling correctly and he was truly working on a major bit of corporate espionage. Finally, my fingers brushed against something small and rectangular in the far corner of the box. I leaned in more than I had planned, stretching to reach it. The smooth, cool surface confirmed it was what I was looking for¡ªa data-shard case, just like Mr. Stirling had described. ¡°Got it,¡± I whispered to Jade, quickly pulling out the case and giving it a once-over to ensure it was sealed and undamaged. It looked exactly as it should according to Mr. Stirling¡¯s information, which was a huge relief. Jade, ever the pro at improvising, started slipping my boot back onto my foot. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it feels; you should be good in just a few minutes, you big baby,¡± she said, her voice a bit louder than necessary, likely to sell our cover story and give us a clear exit strategy. I gently let the drop box close behind me, pressing the lock button on the keypad and listening for the reassuring chime that confirmed it was secure. I gave Jade a quick nod, signaling that we were good to go. To keep up the act, I made a show of prodding my foot and wincing, slipping the data-shard case into my pocket before adjusting my boot properly. Jade had done her best, but combat boots weren¡¯t exactly easy to put on someone else, especially when they¡¯re form-fitting. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s head on¡ª¡± Before I could finish, however, a loud voice interrupted me. ¡°Well, hello there, ladies,¡± came the voice of a young man who had just emerged from an alley on the far side of the store, right behind Jade. His tone was dripping with fake concern. ¡°You okay there? You seem to be in quite a lot of pain. If you need some strong arms to help you get to where you¡¯re going, we wouldn¡¯t mind lending a hand¡ªor several.¡± He sauntered toward us, three of his buddies following close behind, all of them snickering at their leader¡¯s words. I couldn¡¯t help but curse internally at the terrible timing. We were so close¡ªjust one more minute; even half of one, and we¡¯d have been out of here, clean. I kept my face neutral, hiding the irritation bubbling beneath the surface at potentially another plan having gone tits up, and gave Jade a sideways glance. We needed to handle this without causing a scene, but the tension was already ramping up, and I could feel the adrenaline kicking in. I quickly weighed our options. We could try to talk our way out, or we could make a break for it. Either way, we had to be smart about this; the last thing we needed was to draw even more attention. With a deep breath, I turned toward the guy, keeping my expression calm and collected. ¡°Thanks for the offer,¡± I said with a slight smile that didn¡¯t reach my eyes. ¡°But we¡¯ve got it covered. Just a little twist, nothing we can¡¯t handle.¡± I kept my tone light, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated. Jade shifted slightly beside me, subtly positioning herself to keep an eye on the other guys while still playing along with the act. We were on the same page¡ªget out of this without a fight if we could, but be ready if things went sideways. The leader of the group, oblivious to my attempts at keeping things civil, took another step closer, his grin spreading wider across his face. His voice oozed fake concern as he continued, ¡°Come on now, no need to be shy. We¡¯re just trying to be friendly. Surely two pretty ladies like yourselves know how dangerous it can be to be out and about all by yourselves? Especially when hurt.¡± I felt a flare of irritation rise within me, my patience wearing thinner by the second. I could see where this was heading, and it wasn¡¯t somewhere I wanted to go. I kept my expression neutral, though, unwilling to show just how close I was to snapping and beside me, Jade shifted slightly, her body language mirroring my own growing tension. ¡°Thanks again, but we really are fine,¡± I said, my tone more clipped now. I didn¡¯t bother with a smile this time. ¡°We were just on our way out, so if you¡¯d excuse us...¡± The guy¡¯s grin didn¡¯t falter. If anything, it grew even more smug. ¡°Nah, my dear. No need to rush off,¡± he said, his voice taking on a more insistent edge. ¡°We¡¯ve got a place nearby where you can rest that foot of yours. You wouldn¡¯t want to hurt it worse by trying to walk on it, would you? We got quite a few hands between us that can help massage out any errant cramps too...¡± His friends snickered behind him, two of them even fist-bumping like third-class fodder, clearly enjoying the show. I could feel the situation spiralling and the options narrowing. We couldn¡¯t afford to let this escalate into something worse, but it was getting harder to keep my temper in check with this obvious, disgusting ploy being thrown in our faces. Before I could respond with something unwise, however, Jade leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, her voice low and tense, ¡°He¡¯s Golden Phoenix. That pin on the right side of his shirt...¡± Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water, the realisation making my heart skip a beat as my eyes darted towards the indicated pin. Of course, it couldn¡¯t just be a group of sleazy guys; it just had to be gang members from the very group that controlled this floor. The stakes had just skyrocketed, and the situation was now a lot more complicated than I¡¯d initially thought or hoped for. I forced myself to stay calm, but I could feel the pressure building, despite my Ego¡¯s best attempts at keeping me focused on my task. The last thing we needed was to provoke a gang confrontation in the middle of a floor we didn¡¯t control, especially with the data-shard now secured in my pocket¡ªI couldn¡¯t afford to get into a physical altercation and risk it getting damaged or worse, lost. I glanced briefly at Jade, her expression a mix of wariness and urgency, clearly on edge from the new development. There was something else in her eyes, too¡ªsomething almost pleading, like she was trying to communicate a plan or a warning without saying a word. But unfortunately for both of us, I couldn¡¯t read minds, so I was left guessing at whatever she was trying to tell me. My hand inched closer towards two of the throwing knives hidden underneath my top, not seeing another way out of this situation than to bloody their noses and make a break for it. But before I could make a move, Jade suddenly stepped forward, placing herself between me and the group of men. Her whole demeanour shifted in an instant, from wary and tense to bright-eyed and enthusiastic, as if she had just stumbled upon the most fascinating thing in the world. ¡°Oh shit¡­!¡± Jade exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement as she pointed at the leader¡¯s chest. ¡°Is that¡­ is that the Golden Phoenix emblem?! No way! Are you seriously part of the Golden Phoenix gang?¡± The leader blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in tone. He had been expecting resistance, maybe even fear, but certainly not admiration. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, that¡¯s right,¡± he said, puffing out his chest a little which pushed the pin further into the light, the emblem gleaming in it. ¡°We run things around here, y¡¯know.¡± Jade¡¯s eyes widened as if she was seeing a celebrity in the flesh. ¡°That¡¯s so cool! I¡¯ve heard so much about you guys! What¡¯s it like being part of the Golden Phoenix?! Do you get to do all the important stuff? Who are you in the gang? What do you do?¡± The questions tumbled out of her in a rush, and the leader, clearly flattered, couldn¡¯t help but grin. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re pretty important,¡± he boasted, glancing back at his buddies, who were nodding along, clearly pleased with how this was turning out. ¡°I¡¯m one of the enforcers around here. Promoted recently. Keep the peace, make sure nobody steps out of line, that sort of thing, y¡¯know? Keep the blanks to a minimum.¡± Jade leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with interest. ¡°Wow, that sounds like such a big responsibility! And you¡¯re so young, too! You must be really good at what you do. How did you even get into the gang? Do they, like, accept women too? Maybe someone like me, or my friend Mabel here?¡± She gestured toward me, still maintaining her cover. The leader¡¯s grin widened, clearly enjoying the attention. ¡°Well, we don¡¯t just let anyone in, y¡¯know? You gotta prove yourself, show that you can handle the life. But, uh, we¡¯ve got some women in the gang too. They¡¯re tough as nails, though. Not sure if you ladies are cut out for it,¡± he said, his tone almost teasing. Jade giggled, her laugh light and disarming. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about that. Mabel and I can handle ourselves pretty well. Maybe we could even impress someone like you?¡± She gave him a playful look, her tone flirtatious. The leader seemed to puff up even more at that, his ego clearly swelling¡ªand maybe something else too, judging by the way he was openly leering at Jade¡¯s body. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said, clearly enjoying the idea of being the one to introduce some fresh blood into the gang. ¡°If you¡¯re serious about it, I could talk to some people. See if we could arrange something. But like I said, it ain¡¯t easy.¡± ¡°Really? That would be amazing!¡± Jade gushed, her excitement sounding almost too genuine. ¡°We¡¯re just trying to get by, you know? Parents are always busy; so nothing for us to do but try and find our own path. Maybe this could be the chance we¡¯ve been looking for!¡± I watched the interaction closely, my hand still hovering near my knives but my mind now focused on how Jade was managing to deftly defuse the situation. It was clear to me now that she had likely sensed I was about to do something risky and had jumped in to buy us some time. Jade¡¯s bubbly enthusiasm was working like a charm, keeping the leader¡¯s attention squarely on her while I kept a close eye on the rest of his crew. The other three guys were typical hanger-ons, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, but keeping a bit of distance¡ªcontent to let their leader soak up all the attention. I couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by Jade¡¯s quick thinking and her ability to switch gears so effortlessly. She was handling this situation way better than I could¡¯ve imagined, and it made me realise I needed to be more adaptable in the future if I wanted to avoid these kinds of situations spiralling out of control. ¡®Emulating Jade is definitely going to push me in the right direction for Operator work¡­¡¯ But right now, my priority was figuring out how to get us out of this mess. Jade wouldn¡¯t be able to keep them distracted forever, and we needed to make our exit before things got any more complicated. As Jade launched into another enthusiastic rant about how much she admired the Golden Phoenix gang and their leadership, I quickly scanned our surroundings, trying to stay inconspicuous behind her. My mind raced as I weighed our options, quickly coming up with two separate plans. One involved going back to my earlier idea of throwing punches, while the other relied on the backup plan Mr. Stirling had mentioned in his intel. I wasn¡¯t typically one for unnecessary violence, but these guys were really pushing for it. They were exactly the type who would hassle anyone who crossed their path, and part of me wanted to teach them a lesson. Who knew what they¡¯d do to other girls they came across on this floor if we didn¡¯t put them in their place? But as much as I wanted to crack a few heads, the logical part of my brain reminded me that caution was the smarter play. For one, I wasn¡¯t even entirely sure if I could take them all down if I tried. Sure, I had a Body of 5 and some basic [Martial Arts] training from Miss K¡¯s dojo, but my actual combat experience was practically nonexistent, having only really fought Kenzie inside the dojo itself¡ªand let¡¯s be real, Kenzie wasn¡¯t exactly your typical mook. I had no real idea where I stood when it came to a real-world fight. It was entirely possible that I could handle them, but just as likely that they¡¯d overpower me and Jade, and who knew what they¡¯d do after realising we weren¡¯t just some random girls but had infiltrated their territory for a reason. The other, more pressing concern was the data shard. If things got physical and I failed to take out enough of them quickly, I risked the shard getting damaged or stolen. That was an absolute no-go for the Task, no matter how I tried to spin it. Ultimately choosing to go with Mr. Stirling¡¯s backup plan, I quickly faked a call, entering a random ID into my cerebral interface¡¯s call option. My eyes flickered yellow as it tried to connect, just enough to make it look legit. ¡°Ah, great! Thank you so much! We¡¯ll be right there!¡± I exclaimed, faking enthusiasm just like Jade had earlier. The sudden outburst made everyone turn their attention to me. Ignoring their stares, I turned to Jade with a bright smile. ¡°Felice, great news! The owner¡¯s ready for us now; we can have our lesson!¡± I¡¯d thrown out a random name, but I knew Jade would catch on immediately, just like she¡¯d done when she¡¯d called me Mabel. I quickly turned to the leader of the group and gave him a small, apologetic bow. ¡°Sorry to interrupt, but we¡¯ve got a class booked with the owner of the store here. Felice and I are going to learn how to shoot some guns!¡± I added a pair of cheesy finger-guns for effect, even though I was cringing internally at how over-the-top it felt. The leader looked like he was about to interject, his face betraying his intent to keep us from leaving just yet, so I hurriedly continued, ¡°How about you give us your IDs? We¡¯ll let you know when we¡¯re done inside, and we can chat more about the gang business then. Having a couple of capable gun-girls on your side has got to be better than just some random chicks off the street, right? We¡¯re not blanks; we know how important merit is!¡± I stood up straighter, lifting my chin in what I hoped was a convincing display of naive confidence. My limited [[Perform]] Skill was working overtime, and I was really regretting that most of the Skill¡¯s levels had come from [Juggling] right about now. The leader hesitated, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. Jade, not missing a beat, hit him with another flirtatious smile. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. Plus, it¡¯ll be fun to show off our new skills later, don¡¯t you think? Maybe you could even guide my hands a bit; if I mess up? Really get my fingers in the right places¡­?¡± She winked, and I could see the guy¡¯s resolve shattering, as I tried my best to keep the bile down. Finally, he shrugged and pulled up his own interface, exchanging IDs with Jade and me. ¡°Alright, fine. But don¡¯t keep us waiting too long, yeah? We¡¯ll be around.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± I replied, returning his grin with one of my own, before quickly ushering Jade back inside the gun store. Once inside, we headed straight for the counter, knowing that the guys¡¯ eyes were following our every move from outside, both of us still riding the tension from the encounter outside. I could feel my pulse racing as we approached the store owner, who was briefly busy with another customer. I leaned in close to Jade, lowering my voice to a whisper. ¡°Nice save back there. Fucking disgusting people¡­ Let¡¯s get this over with and get the fuck out of here before they change their minds.¡± She nodded, her eyes still scanning the store, clearly on high alert. We both knew we weren¡¯t out of the woods yet, but at least we would be safe for the next little while. Now it was all about whether or not Mr. Stirling¡¯s connections would come through in a pinch¡­ Chapter 85 - Perfect Opportunity PoV: Jade Having been ushered back inside the gun store, Jade kept a close eye on everything around her. The presence of the Golden Phoenix members had thrown a massive wrench into their plans for the item retrieval that Ela was undertaking. ¡®At least I managed to make sure this lunatic didn¡¯t kill all of them¡­¡¯ she thought to herself, side-eyeing Ela as the girl moved up towards the counter, waiting for the store owner to finish up with another customer. Ela had looked just about ready to cause a bloodbath out there, and given the quality of throwing knives she was carrying¡ªcoupled with her freakish accuracy and the power of her throws that was undoubtedly enhanced by cybernetics of some sort¡ªJade knew she was extremely lucky to have avoided a violent confrontation. Sucking up to a random Golden Phoenix boy for a few minutes was a small price to pay for keeping things from escalating beyond control. Jade had been in a bit of a panicked, rapid-fire session of ¡®bullshitting until the situation somehow resolves itself¡¯ for the past few minutes, but now, inside the relative safety of the store again, she had a moment to think about her current situation and her next moves. The first thing she recognized as supremely important was to stick close to Ela. There were a couple of reasons for that, but the main ones were quite simple: safety and information. Safety, because Jade had just put herself on the radar of some Golden Phoenix enforcers, young and inexperienced as they might have been. No matter what, she couldn¡¯t afford to get captured by them or, worse, land the Clawed Beasts in any kind of trouble as a result of this little excursion. While it was unlikely that the group of boys outside had any intel on her or connections that could dig that information up, the most important lesson Vega had drilled into her was to always have contingencies ready to go. As much as she didn¡¯t want to see any unnecessary deaths, she would very much prefer Ela slaughter every single one of the boys outside in her typical, psychotic calmness than to cause trouble for the Clawed Beasts, or more specifically, Vega and her sisters, by getting herself into a tight spot she couldn¡¯t get out of without their help. And the other reason, information, was the whole purpose of her existence on this floor right now to begin with. She was tasked with gathering as much intel about Ela as possible while acting as the liaison between the girl and Vega. That liaison business was the entire, and likely only, reason Ela had even called her and invited her to this outing in the first place. The enigmatic girl undoubtedly knew Jade was spying on her and likely reporting everything back to Vega if it seemed important enough, given that most of it had been laid bare during the heated discussion a couple of days ago in Vega¡¯s office, but she had still called and invited her along regardless¡ªprobably for her own mysterious reasons that Jade couldn¡¯t even begin to decipher. Just because someone knew they were being spied on, however, didn¡¯t mean they could keep everything hidden. Even someone as skilled as Ela would slip up eventually, especially on a mission like this, out in the open. That¡¯s what Jade was counting on here. And, already, she had picked up a few interesting tidbits about Ela¡¯s behaviour, likely thought processes, and skill sets that neither she nor Vega had known about before. The most dangerous one, in Jade¡¯s opinion, was how much the girl seemingly knew about guns. The moment they¡¯d entered the store and pretended to browse the goods at the window to keep an eye on the outside, Ela had casually picked up a gun and inspected it with such ease and professionalism that it was clear she knew what she was doing. There was no hesitation, no fumbling¡ªjust smooth, practised movements that could only come from countless hours of experience and familiarity. The fact that Ela had let that slip past her otherwise nearly flawless facade only emphasised how truly ingrained those skills were in her. If she¡¯d been trying to hide her expertise, someone less familiar with guns would¡¯ve likely fumbled or at least hesitated, maybe even tried to act like they were just casually browsing. But not Ela. She handled that gun like it was an extension of herself, inspecting it with a casual ease that made it clear this was second nature to her. It was almost as if she didn¡¯t even realise what she was revealing. Or maybe she just didn¡¯t care¡ªlike it wasn¡¯t even worth the effort to hide from Jade. That thought alone was enough to send a chill down her spine. It made her wonder just how much else Ela was keeping under wraps, or worse, what she was showing intentionally to mislead her. And while the revelation wasn¡¯t entirely surprising, given everything else Ela had going on, it was definitely troubling. Guns were everywhere in Neo Avalis; every ganger and most scavs out on the streets were packing heat, quality be damned. But inside the megabuildings, carrying a gun was a whole different game. Jade and most of her sisters had only really handled guns during the rare shooting drills Vega set up for them. Only Ruby and Citrina carried guns regularly, and that was because they were the only ones with the licences required to carry them on floors not fully controlled by the Clawed Beasts. Any floor partially or fully owned by a corporation required those licences, and without one, you were just begging for trouble with the corpos¡ªthe last thing anyone in their right mind would want; or given a bad day, ever do. But Ela? She didn¡¯t just know how to hold a gun; she knew how to inspect one too, like she¡¯d been doing it her whole life. That level of familiarity was way beyond what any average megabuilding ganger would have. Jade knew plenty of gangers, and most of them were absolute blanks when it came to firearms. Sure, they could shoot, but actually knowing their way around a gun like Ela did? That was rare, even outside the megabuilding. It was something you usually only saw in higher ranked members, who actually had to do a lot of the procurement for the rest of their squads. This little detail was definitely going straight to Vega once they made it out of this mess. Jade wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d react, but it would definitely change the way he saw Ela. It wouldn¡¯t spur him into immediate action, not that Jade was hoping for anything to happen of course, but it would shift the picture he had of the girl nevertheless. Another thing that had become increasingly clear during this mission was that Ela wasn¡¯t used to working with others. Sure, her acting skills were top-notch when it came to staying off the radar of corpos, gangers, and just about anyone who wasn¡¯t Vega. But when it came to their little pickup charade? She was stiff, downright amateurish. Jade had wondered if it was an act to throw her off, but that didn¡¯t really add up. The foot injury bit had cost them precious time, enough for the Golden Phoenix crew to notice them and make their move. That slip didn¡¯t seem like something Ela would have done on purpose, especially if her goal was just to get in, grab the goods, and get out. The most logical explanation was that Ela¡¯s performance had been hampered by having to include someone else in her plan. She wasn¡¯t exactly the social type, either¡ªsomething Jade had already picked up on during their walk to the gun store. Jade had tried to pull Ela into some playful banter, teasing her about those hideous shoes in the ad, hoping to get a bit of back-and-forth going to sell their cover. But instead of playing along, Ela had just sulked, stiff as a board. If anyone had been watching them closely, that awkwardness alone could¡¯ve easily blown their cover. The only explanation that made sense to Jade was that Ela was a lone wolf by nature¡ªsomeone who was used to working solo and had a hard time adjusting when she had to coordinate with someone else. It explained the stark difference between her usually flawless facade and the clunky, almost amateurish acting that emerged whenever she had to involve Jade in one of her schemes. Somehow, though, this all had ended up playing right into Jade¡¯s hands, through some cosmic convergence or another. She¡¯d finally gotten a close, in-depth look at the girl¡¯s feet, half-expecting to find incisions or some other telltale sign of the cybernetics that must be hiding beneath the surface, allowing her to move so stealthily. But much to Jade¡¯s surprise, there was nothing¡ªno scars, no seams, nothing that hinted at bionics either. It left her with a frustratingly blank slate when it came to figuring out that part of the girl¡¯s skill set. ¡®How the fuck is she pulling that off if it¡¯s not cybernetic or bionic in nature¡­?¡¯ Those lingering questions were still bouncing around in Jade¡¯s head as she found herself standing right next to Ela, both of them approaching the store owner who had finally finished up with the previous customer. Jade had no idea what Ela¡¯s endgame was with this whole charade¡ªsomething about a shooting lesson, according to the story she spun for the Golden Phoenix guys outside¡ªbut the way Ela confidently strode up to the man made it clear that she did in fact have some sort of a plan. Walking up to the owner, a middle-aged guy with a bit of a belly but a friendly, if slightly worn-out, smile on his stubbled face, Ela flashed him a disarming grin. ¡°Hi there¡­ I was wondering if you could help me and my friend out a bit?¡± Jade blinked, caught off guard by the vague and almost casual way Ela phrased the request. She had expected something more direct, more in line with the careful planning and sharp execution she¡¯d come to associate with the girl. But here was Ela, playing it cool and leaving the store owner just as perplexed as Jade felt. The man hesitated, clearly puzzled by the unusual request, but his customer service instincts kicked in. ¡°Uh, yeah, sure. That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for,¡± he replied, though there was a hint of confusion in his tone. After all, helping customers was quite literally his job¡ªwhy the roundabout way of asking? Just as Jade was wondering where Ela was going with this, the girl leaned in to whisper something to the store owner. A wave of panic shot through Jade as she realised she¡¯d let her guard down, lulled by the strange approach Ela had taken. She strained to catch the hushed words, but Ela had shifted away from her just enough to make it difficult for her to hear. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡®Damn this scheming fucking eel¡­!¡¯ Jade thought, her frustration mounting as she tried to pick up any snippets of the conversation. ¡°...help¡­outside¡­shooting lesson¡­¡± The man¡¯s face showed his confusion as Ela spoke, his brows knitting together until she dropped the last few words. ¡°...pickup¡­the watcher¡­¡± In an instant, the store owner¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to something much more serious¡ªborderline terrified, even¡ªas he began nodding rapidly, his demeanour doing a complete 180. ¡°Ah¡­! Of course, of course!¡± he responded loudly, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he forced a smile in Jade¡¯s direction, clearly avoiding Ela¡¯s gaze like it might burn him. ¡°Please, follow me, young ladies, I insist. I, Percival, am always happy to teach the art of firearms to newly interested patrons. Let us head towards the back immediately and get your lesson started, shall we?¡± His speech had become stilted, overly formal in a way that felt almost robotic, and before Jade could fully process the abrupt change, Ela¡¯s arm looped around hers, guiding her toward the back of the store. The owner, Percival apparently, led the way with a slightly stiff gait, his forced cheerfulness doing little to hide the tension in the air. Jade couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that whatever Ela had whispered to him had flipped some kind of switch¡ªand not in a good way. ¡®What just happened here¡­?¡¯ she thought, her mind racing as she tried to piece it all together. The man had been normal¡ªhappy, even, if a bit puzzled¡ªright up until Ela dropped those last few words. ¡®What could she have possibly said to him? And what in the fuck is ¡°the watcher¡± supposed to mean? A codeword¡­? Or a name, maybe?¡¯ Whatever it was that Ela had whispered, it had worked like a charm. Percival had gone from slightly confused to fully cooperative in a heartbeat and was now fumbling with a set of old, mechanical keys to unlock a grated door in the back of the store. ¡°In here, if you please,¡± he said, his voice still carrying that forced cheerfulness as he gestured toward the room beyond the grate. Ela didn¡¯t hesitate, walking straight in with Jade right behind her, still trying to wrap her head around the rapid shift in the situation. As Percival followed them in, he flicked a practically invisible switch near the door, and lights flickered to life, revealing a surprisingly well-kept in-house shooting range. Jade blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight. She had assumed the whole ¡°shooting lesson¡± story was just a cover, a bit of flimsy deception to get them out of a tight spot. But here she was, standing in an actual, fully functional in-house shooting range. The place was unexpectedly well stocked too, with clean lanes, fresh targets, and a range of firearms neatly arranged on the side walls. The air was filled with the faint smell of gunpowder, mixed with a sterile, metallic scent that made Jade¡¯s nose tingle. ¡®Just what kind of place is this¡­?¡¯ Jade wondered, still trying to wrap her head around the pristine surroundings. It didn¡¯t seem like the kind of setup you¡¯d stumble upon in the back of an average gun shop. Most shooting ranges were prominently featured, used as a selling point to draw in customers. They were usually buzzing with activity, with people testing out firearms and showing off their skills. But this range was different¡ªtucked away behind a locked grate, only accessible by the owner himself. It was high-end, way too high-end for a low-tier floor like this one. Not a single soul had wandered into this part of the shop the entire time they¡¯d been here. It didn¡¯t add up. From a business perspective, it made no sense for this place to exist as it did, almost like it was designed for a purpose beyond the usual customer foot traffic. But whatever that purpose was, Jade couldn¡¯t figure it out. Not yet, anyway. Ela, however, moved with an air of familiarity, completely unfazed by the oddity of the situation. She walked over to one of the shooting lanes like she owned the place, her earlier bubbly facade melting away into a composed, confident demeanour. Jade had seen that look before¡ªit was the look of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, someone in complete control, even when everything around them seemed out of sync. Percival, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. He hovered near the entrance, all traces of his earlier enthusiasm gone. ¡°You¡­ You ladies just let me know if you need anything else. I¡¯ll be¡­ I¡¯ll be in the front! Yes! Customers are definitely calling. I hear them,¡± he stammered, his voice lacking any of the certainty he¡¯d shown before. It was clear that he was eager to get out of the room, to distance himself from whatever was about to happen. Jade could practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves. Ela didn¡¯t even glance his way, simply waving him off with a mere flick of her wrist, her focus entirely on the firearm she had picked up. A moment later, she gave Jade a small nod, a silent command to stay cool and follow her lead. The message was clear: Don¡¯t ask questions, just go with the flow. Taking a steadying breath, Jade did her best to match Ela¡¯s pace. She moved closer, watching as Ela inspected the gun with the same easy expertise she¡¯d shown earlier. It was almost unsettling how natural she was at it, how she seemed completely in her element in this strange, hidden shooting range. The situation was spiralling into the unknown, veering off in directions Jade hadn¡¯t seen coming at all. But one thing was certain¡ªEla was steering the ship, and if Jade wanted to get out of this unscathed, she¡¯d have to trust that Ela knew what she was doing. Falling behind wasn¡¯t an option. Not now. So, she did the only thing that came to mind: She grabbed a gun of her own and did her best to mimic Ela¡¯s movements, all the while trying to piece together the real reason they were even here, in this strange back-room shooting gallery¡­
As I examined the random pistol I had grabbed from the rack in the back-room shooting range with my terrible movie and youtube-impressions, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of unease creeping up on me. Sure, Mr. Stirling''s info had gotten us out of sight from those Golden Phoenix thugs, but now that we were back here, I was at a complete loss as to what we were supposed to do next. Percival, the store owner, had led us into this hidden shooting range and then just left us here, which only made me more nervous. Being surrounded by racks of guns, crates of ammunition, and absolutely no supervision felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. It didn¡¯t help that the place was eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above. I glanced around the shooting range, trying to keep my cool and maintain the appearance of casually inspecting the guns, just like Jade was doing. The room itself was surprisingly well-equipped for a place tucked away in the back of a small gun store. The walls were lined with soundproofing material, and the lanes were pristine, with each one equipped with a surprisingly high-tech target system¡ªwith automatic target placement, movement and even different modes from what the tiny plaque next to the screen I was standing in front of was telling me¡ªthat seemed entirely out of place for a floor like this. But what really caught my attention¡ªand not in a good way¡ªwas the so-called "emergency exit" at the far end of the range. It was nothing more than a flimsy-looking door with a faded "EXIT" sign barely hanging on above it. The door seemed to open directly onto one of the shooting lanes, which struck me as an incredibly poor design choice. Whoever planned this layout clearly wasn¡¯t too concerned with safety regulations, because if that wasn¡¯t an OSHA violation waiting to happen, I didn¡¯t know what was. Then again, OSHA had probably been one of the first things to get the boot once the corporations sank their claws into every politician in sight¡ªassuming OSHA even existed in this world to begin with. So, it wasn¡¯t like there was anyone left to complain to. All I could do was shake my head at the sheer level of negligence on display. Part of me was tempted to suggest to Jade that we should just take our chances and slip out through that rickety door, but when I glanced over at her, I saw she was meticulously inspecting the gun in her hands, mimicking the way I had done it earlier. That small detail reassured me¡ªlike I was actually on the right track. After all, she was tied up in some high-level gang stuff with Vega, so it was likely she had some real firearm experience. If she was mirroring my moves, then they probably had some merit beyond just looking cool in movies or YouTube videos. Who would¡¯ve thought you could pick up something useful from being a shut-in NEET? But, more importantly, it got me thinking. I had never been the biggest fan of guns in my past life, but I had to come to terms with the fact that this truly wasn¡¯t my past life anymore. This was the world of Neon Dragons, and the rules were quite a lot different here. Sure, I might be able to get by without a gun here inside Delta for now, but if I really wanted to pursue the path of an Operator, it was only a matter of time before I¡¯d have to step outside into Neo Avalis itself. Out there, I wouldn¡¯t have the safety net of a controlled corporate environment. Out there, I¡¯d be up against all kinds of lunatics, armed to the teeth with everything from high-end, stolen hardware to ancient, half-broken relics that could just as easily backfire on them as take me out. Bottom line: At some point, I was going to need a gun. I definitely couldn¡¯t afford one right now, not to mention the licence to carry it inside the megabuilding. But what I could do was start unlocking the related Skills and maybe even level them up a bit¡ªdepending on how long Jade was willing to keep up this charade. The more I mulled it over, the more it started to seem like a golden opportunity. When else was I going to have a chance like this? A fully equipped shooting range, all to myself¡ªwell, except for Jade¡ªwith access to a whole array of firearms, practically unlimited ammo, and no one around to get suspicious of how quickly I was picking things up? It was the perfect setup to give my Operator build a serious boost. So why not start now? The first thing I needed to handle, however, aside from somehow convincing Jade to stick around and spend some time just shooting at targets, was freeing up some Skill slots. As always, I was maxed out, which was getting really old, really fast. Opening up my Skill List, I took a good look at what I had available. I was down to just a few Level 0 Skills that I could consider giving up at the moment, so the choices were pretty slim. Out of those, the only ones I was truly willing to potentially drop¡ªbecause they either weren¡¯t useful right now or would be a pain to train up¡ªwere [Poison] and [Lip-Reading]. [Poison] had potential, sure, but it was pretty useless to me in the here and now. I didn¡¯t have anything to use poison on, and I wasn¡¯t exactly in a position where slipping someone a toxic cocktail would be more effective than just stabbing them. The only reason I even had the Skill was because of Valeria¡¯s psychotic ¡°teaching¡± methods that she had somehow thought were adequate for her own children; something that I was still trying to figure out how to really categorise in this world¡ªKenzie being my closest avenue for that, if I could get some more info on her familial situation out of her at some stage. [Lip-Reading], on the other hand, had been on the chopping block more times than I could count, but it had always managed to just squeak by. But when it came down to [Lip-Reading] versus something like [Pistols] or the more general [Firearms]? Yeah, I knew which one I¡¯d rather have in my back pocket, at least for now. Two Skill Slots should be enough for the time we could realistically spend here today, so I quickly discarded both of them. I didn¡¯t want to start second-guessing myself, especially with Jade giving me those repeated side-eyes, probably wondering why I was taking so long to actually start doing something.
[System]: [Poison] and [Lip-Reading] Skills have been removed from User. [System]: [Poison] and [Lip-Reading] Skills have been added to list of Locked Skills and will be unable to be obtained again until Unlocked.
¡°Ever used one of these before?¡± I asked casually, raising the pistol in my hand and making sure to keep the barrel pointed safely at the ground. If there was one thing those YouTube videos had drilled into me, it was that you never aimed a gun at anything you didn¡¯t want dead, even if you were absolutely certain it was empty. Jade nodded, though she looked a bit hesitant. ¡°Yeah, a couple of times... Are we planning to shoot someone?¡± I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°What? No! We¡¯re just putting some lead downrange. We told those guys we¡¯d be here for a while, so I¡¯d rather not risk them getting suspicious and circling around to the back door. Better to let them think we¡¯re actually taking a class and doing some shooting before we try to sneak out.¡± I flashed a cheeky smile. ¡°Besides, how often do we get an entire range to ourselves? Might as well make the most of it.¡± I was banking on that bit of confidence to smooth things over and keep Jade from asking too many questions or thinking too hard about my reasoning¡ªbecause, honestly, it didn¡¯t make a whole lot of sense. Thankfully, confidence seemed to do the trick. Jade gave me a terse nod and started loading the first few magazines for her chosen gun¡ªsome kind of SMG, if my basic weapon-shape knowledge was anything to go by. ¡®Alright, that hurdle¡¯s cleared,¡¯ I thought, turning my attention to the more pressing matter at hand: Which gun to start with. A pistol was probably my best bet, considering it was the most realistic option for me to afford anytime soon. But the real question was, what kind? There were so many choices¡ªautomatic, semi-automatic, revolvers, hand cannons that barely even counted as pistols, and everything in between. I scanned the options, letting my instincts guide me and picking out the ones that looked the coolest. FashionSouls/Hunter had never let me down before, so why not trust it now? Eager to get started, I picked out three pistols that looked cool and placed them on the table in my lane. As I did, I heard the mechanical whirring sound of the target system activating at Jade¡¯s lane, placing targets downrange and starting to move them. It was time to dig into some serious Skill grinding, this time in a strange, definitely-not-illegal-I¡¯m-pretty-sure shooting range that I had no business being in¡­ Chapter 86 - Pistols & Firearms With the three pistols laid out in front of me, I got to work figuring out what I had actually ended up picking up here. This was the moment I¡¯d been waiting for¡ªthe perfect opportunity to let [Appraisal] show off what it could really do. I hovered my hand over the first pistol, not because I needed to but because it just felt right, and activated the ability. ¡®Appraisal.¡¯ Immediately, the System¡¯s interface sprang to life, displaying a detailed rundown of the weapon I was examining.
[== Oranella - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 360-480{c}] [Barrel Length: 112mm] [Empty Weight: 905g] [Manufacturer: Walpurgis Industries] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel, Plastics] [== Oranella - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 440/470] [Firing Modes: Semi-Automatic, Burst] [Rate of Fire: 400 Semi, 650 Burst [Calibre: 10mm] [Magazine Size: 16] [Effective Range: 10-200m]
The Oranella was an odd-looking pistol, which was exactly why I¡¯d picked it up in the first place. It had a bit of a Glock vibe, but beefier¡ªprobably to handle that 10mm calibre instead of the 9mm I was more familiar with from my old life. It wasn¡¯t just the heft, though. The gun was positively covered in all these ornamental flourishes, tiny engraved images of random symbols and emblems that probably meant something to people who shopped at Walpurgis Industries. Walpurgis Industries had been around in the game too, having always been known for their eccentric designs, and while I¡¯d never really been a fan of their stuff¡ªtoo flashy for my taste¡ªI had to admit, seeing it up close like this, it had a certain... style. Tacky, for sure, but appealing in its own way. With the Oranella appraised and mentally filed away, I moved on to the next choice, the pistol sitting in the centre of my lineup. The second pistol I had picked up was, without a doubt, the crown jewel in terms of aesthetics. Sleek, chrome, and black, it was a piece of art, with intricately coiled snakes embossed all over the gun. This was definitely more of a showpiece than something you''d carry around every day, but damn, if it wasn¡¯t a showpiece. Focusing on it, I called up my Ability again. ¡®Appraisal.¡¯
[== Kale SE-57 - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 510-540{c}] [Barrel Length: 123mm] [Empty Weight: 733g] [Manufacturer: Ethera Inc.] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel] [== Kale SE-7 - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 514/530] [Firing Modes: Semi-Automatic] [Rate of Fire: 350 Semi [Calibre: 5.7x28mm] [Magazine Size: 23] [Effective Range: 10-300m]
As soon as I saw the specs, it clicked¡ªthis beauty was clearly inspired by the FN Five-Seven from my old life. The devs had given it a stunning makeover, but kept most of its core mechanics intact. That particular gun had been my go-to in a ton of games, so I was definitely tempted to try this one out right away. But there was still one more option left to check out before I made my decision. Turning my attention to the final pistol in the lineup, I activated [Appraisal] one last time. ¡®Appraisal.¡¯
[== N74 Siral - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 470-530{c}] [Barrel Length: 114mm] [Empty Weight: 713g] [Manufacturer: Siral Weapons & Ammunitions] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel, Plastics] [== N74 Siral - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 345/410] [Firing Modes: Semi-Automatic, Automatic] [Rate of Fire: 400 Semi, 1200 Auto] [Calibre: 9mm Siral] [Magazine Size: 32] [Effective Range: 10-200m]
The N74 was a classic example of Siral''s over-engineering at its finest¡ªa company known for crafting unique solutions to problems nobody else really cared about. This pistol was a prime example of that whole approach. It was part of Siral¡¯s proprietary weapon and ammunition set, which was one of the main reasons most players in the game avoided their products like the plague. Random gangers on the street didn¡¯t usually carry Siral-proprietary ammo, so restocking in the middle of a mission was always a nightmare. Siral had this reputation for taking something that worked perfectly fine and then tweaking it to the point of absurdity. The N74 was no exception. It was like they took what could¡¯ve been a solid, reliable pistol¡ªsomething akin to a G18 from my old life¡ªand decided to "improve" it by slapping on a bunch of proprietary parts that, while boosting the gun¡¯s performance slightly, also made it nearly impossible to maintain without specialised tools and knowledge. And the ammo? Yeah, they¡¯d done a number on that too. Sure, it packed a bit more punch and had better penetration, but good luck finding it. Standard 9mm cartridges were a dime a dozen, one of the most used calibres in the game, but Siral¡¯s custom rounds were about as rare as a sane ganger at midnight. Who in their right mind even needed a self-defence pistol with a rate of fire of 1200 rounds per minute was beyond me, but apparently, it had been popular enough to still be kicking around several years into the future, when the main story of the game began. I¡¯d seen it on the shelves in gun stores during various playthroughs I¡¯d watched. And as much as I appreciated the performance boost, the idea of being stuck without ammo or a way to fix the thing if it jammed was a major turn-off for me. But regardless, it was a pretty fascinating piece of tech¡ªjust not something I¡¯d want to bet my life on in a pinch. For a round of shooting training inside a gun range, though? Now we were talking. Deciding to go with what I knew from my past life¡¯s gaming experience, I opted to start with the Kale SE-57. Sure, a 9mm would¡¯ve been the textbook choice for a beginner, but there was no way I was going to jump straight into handling an automatic pistol without at least a little practice first. The 10mm Oranella, with its chunkier ammunition, would likely have some serious kick, so I figured I¡¯d save that beast for later. The Kale, with its sleek design and more manageable recoil, seemed like the perfect starting point. I picked up the gun, feeling its weight settle comfortably in my hand, and inserted the pre-loaded magazine. Trying to remember everything I had learned from countless hours of watching random tutorials and playthroughs, I assumed what I hoped was a decent shooting stance. Connecting my cerebral interface to the wireless shooting range system, I initiated the basic drills. Jade was already in full swing in the lane next to me, her gunfire a rhythmic beat in the background. No pressure, right? I focused on the target in front of me, doing my best to breathe evenly and keep my excitement in check. Shooting guns was always pretty fun, after all. But when I finally lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger, nothing happened. The trigger was locked, refusing to budge. Confused, I glanced down at the pistol, mentally running through possible reasons for the malfunction. That¡¯s when I realised¡ªI hadn¡¯t disengaged the safety. With a small flick of my index finger, I corrected my mistake and got ready to try again. This time, I was prepared for the loud bang and it actually followed as the pistol finally fired. The bullet zipped through the air, hitting the target with a solid thud. Except¡­ it landed way lower than I intended, right in the lower portion of what would be someone¡¯s groin. I cringed at the thought, quickly trying to adjust my aim. But the next two shots didn¡¯t fare much better, both landing in the same unfortunate area. Jade¡¯s shooting suddenly stopped, and a moment later, her head popped around the divider between our lanes. She looked at me, her expression a mix of horror and amusement. ¡°Listen, Ela. I get that the guys outside were disgusting but¡­ Is that really necessary?¡± Before I could respond, she held up her hands in a placating gesture. ¡°Hey, no judgement here. I¡¯m not about to tell you how to do your job. Just saying, it¡¯s a bit extreme. But you do you.¡± And just like that, she disappeared back behind the divider, leaving me alone with my shame and a gun that clearly had a mind of its own. ¡®It¡¯s not my fault I don¡¯t know how to shoot a gun, dammit!¡¯ I fumed silently, glaring at the piece of metal in my hands. ¡®I swear, I¡¯m not doing it on purpose¡­¡¯ Determined to get it right, I shifted my stance again, this time focusing more on my grip and the angle of the gun. I wasn¡¯t about to let a few embarrassing shots ruin my first real chance to get some hands-on experience. Time to redeem myself and maybe, just maybe, hit the target where I actually tried to aim¡­
Around twenty minutes later, my hands were a bit numb from the constant recoiling of the pistol in my hands, but I had managed to land quite a number of shots where I actually intended them to go¡ªdespite the accidental groin shots that still seemed to happen occasionally, regardless of my intentions. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Taking a quick break, I checked the stored up System Notifications.
[System]: [Pistols] Skill has been unlocked. [System]: 500xp gained for [Pistols] Skill. [System]: [Firearms] Skill has been unlocked. [System]: 200xp gained for [Firearms] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
¡®Huh¡­? That¡¯s a lot of experience for just twenty minutes of work,¡¯ I thought, surprised at the 500 experience points I¡¯d racked up. That was nearly an entire level¡¯s worth, which usually took me at least an hour or two with most Skills¡ªsometimes even longer. So what was different about [Pistols] that it rewarded so much experience in such a short time? There were a few possibilities, one being that the System might be emulating some of the original game¡¯s design choices. In Neon Dragons, combat was the main focus, the core loop of the game. It made sense that combat-related Skills would level up faster to keep players engaged. After all, if you¡¯re spending most of your time fighting, you¡¯d want those Skills to improve steadily to keep the gameplay satisfying. Another possibility, one that seemed even more plausible to me, however, was that the System factored in resource investment. Pistols used non-recoverable ammunition, meaning every shot came at a cost. Even though I wasn¡¯t paying for bullets right now in this weird back-alley shooting range with Jade, the System might still be calculating experience as if I were. If that were the case, it would explain why the experience gains were so generous. This idea felt more viable because I¡¯d noticed a similar pattern with other Skills that involved non-recoverable resources. Skills like [Cooking], [Medicine], and [First-Aid] had all given me decent chunks of experience, even when the tasks themselves were relatively quick. Dressing a wound, for instance, only took five to ten minutes, yet the experience drop was often comparable to working out for half an hour or more. So it made sense that [Pistols], a Skill that chewed through resources comparatively quickly, would give a similarly boosted experience rate. If each shot counted as a significant investment, then the experience gains I was seeing weren¡¯t just generous¡ªthey were practically guaranteed. That conclusion sparked another thought within my mind. ¡®So, the more resources invested into a Skill, the more experience it gives, huh?¡¯ A grin spread across my face as I turned toward the N74 Siral, loading it up with a sense of anticipation. ¡®If a couple dozen shots give me 500 XP, what kind of gains could I see from a few hundred or even a thousand rounds then¡­?¡¯ Before I went full-auto on the next set of targets, I quickly made sure to add both [Pistols] and [Firearms] to my automatic Bonus Experience allocation¡ªa step I¡¯d completely forgotten about until now. I wasn¡¯t going to get a chance like this often, so I had to milk every last drop out of it. With a mental flick, I activated the targets in my lane again, levelled the N74, and squeezed the trigger, bracing myself for what I expected to be a punishing recoil from the automatic pistol. The rapid-fire brrrt echoed through the empty shooting range as the pistol emptied its entire magazine in just over a second. But much to my surprise, controlling the recoil wasn¡¯t nearly as tough as I¡¯d anticipated. Sure, the shots sprayed everywhere¡ªseriously, why did they keep hitting the target¡¯s groin?!¡ªbut the pistol itself didn¡¯t kick as violently as I¡¯d feared. ¡®Huh¡­ I guess the designers really nailed the balance on this one. I wasn¡¯t expecting it to be this easy to control,¡¯ I mused, examining the sleek weapon in my hands. Weapon manufacturing had been a cornerstone of this world for centuries, so it made sense that they¡¯d perfected making guns that were more efficient than hazardous. Still, it was surprising how little kickback I felt, considering the sheer volume of firepower I¡¯d just unleashed. Physics dictated that all that force had to go somewhere, but all I felt was a bit of numbness in my hand. Then again, thinking back to all those gunTubers I used to watch in my old life, recoil control wasn¡¯t always as dramatic as video games liked to make it out to be. The real challenge was keeping your shots on target, maintaining a tight firing group, rather than fighting to keep the weapon from bouncing around like some ridiculous Hollywood portrayal. I glanced at the target again¡ªyeah, the grouping could use some work, but that was a problem for future-Sera. Right now, I had the perfect opportunity to get a solid grasp on this Skill and rack up some serious experience. Taking a deep breath, I lined up the next set of targets, ready to see just how much more I could push my progress with this little powerhouse in my hands¡­
Another ten minutes later, I had to take a break¡ªI could barely feel my fingers anymore. I¡¯d fired off more than 500 rounds of 9mm Siral, slamming in one magazine after another, just unloading on the targets downrange until they were more holes than paper. The constant barrage had turned my hands numb, the weight of the gun now feeling like an extension of my arm rather than something I was simply holding. I¡¯d been ignoring the various System Notifications up until now, but with my fingers throbbing and my hands tingling, I figured it was time to see how my grind had paid off. I pulled up the messages, and my eyes widened as I read through them:
[System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for [Pistols] Skill. [System]: [Pistols] Skill has reached Level 1. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Firearms] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
¡®What the fuck¡­?¡¯ ¡°Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available¡±? Since when did the System ask for permission? It usually just jammed that stuff into my brain whether I was ready or not. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of confusion and annoyance at that. I mean, I¡¯d literally lost an eye to Kenzie because of a poorly timed download, and now the System decides to play nice? Why now, after all this time? The System had proven to be adaptive before, like with the way it handled Skill overflow differently after the first time I maxed out my slots. Maybe it had learned from the past screw-up with Kenzie and was now trying to avoid causing another problem. Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being slightly miffed¡ªlike, where was this consideration when I needed it before? Would it have really been so terrible to simply ask for my go-ahead from the get-go? Regardless of the why, however, the real question now was how to actually access this new download. I tried to focus on triggering it manually, and as soon as the thought had crossed my mind, the System sprang to life. Without any further input from me, it began jamming the Muscle Memory and Knowledge into my brain. It wasn¡¯t painful, but it was intense, as per usual¡ªlike a sudden rush of understanding and coordination that wasn¡¯t there before. I could practically feel the newfound muscle memory settling into my body, the familiar sensation of a firearm in my hand now accompanied by the instinctual knowledge of how to use it properly. The entire experience was a lot faster and smoother than I¡¯d anticipated, but the sheer intensity of the download left me a bit light-headed. While there wasn¡¯t much in terms of Knowledge, the actual amount of Muscle Memory seemed to be disproportionately high, making my entire body tingle as my muscles instinctively responded to the System¡¯s influence. As the sensations faded, I opened my eyes and flexed my fingers experimentally, feeling the difference already. The gun felt more natural in my grip, like it was meant to be there, rather than the awkward posture and grip I¡¯ve had before. I slammed in a fresh magazine, even though I¡¯d noticed that there wasn¡¯t much of an experience boost jumping from the Kale to the Siral. Still, I wanted a direct comparison between before and after levelling up, and since the Siral was what I¡¯d been using most recently, it made sense to stick with it for now. As I fired off another round downrange, the difference was immediate and massive. The shots were landing mostly on target, with only a few strays here and there, instead of the wild spray I¡¯d been dealing with before. ¡®Man, that¡¯s gotta be at least a 300-400% increase in accuracy¡­ That¡¯s kind of insane,¡¯ I thought, glancing down at the pistols in front of me again. If all the levels compounded like this, I¡¯d be controlling this thing like a pro in just a few more levels. The idea was both exhilarating and a little terrifying. If this was just the beginning, what would it be like when I hit even higher levels¡­? Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, Jade¡¯s face popped up from behind the divider. ¡°How long are we going to keep this up? Not that I¡¯m complaining¡ªI don¡¯t usually get this kind of chance¡ªbut still¡­¡± Her tone was neutral, not giving away whether she thought we should stay or go. It was clear she was leaving the decision up to me. She had a point, though. We¡¯d ducked into the store to avoid the Golden Phoenix enforcers, spinning a story about taking shooting lessons to get them off our backs. But now that we were actually shooting, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to proceed. My first thought was to head out through the back door, but without knowing what was happening outside or whether the enforcers were still hanging around, it felt risky. We could easily walk right into them and end up in the same mess we were trying to avoid¡ªexcept this time, we wouldn¡¯t have the element of surprise or a convenient story to fall back on. On the other hand, this was an incredibly rare opportunity to gain experience in Skills I wouldn¡¯t normally have access to. I wasn¡¯t sure when I¡¯d get another chance like this, especially on Mr. Stirling¡¯s reputational-dime. Plus, convincing Valeria to let me take shooting lessons might be a tough sell, considering she¡¯d already had to pull some serious strings to get me into the dojo, if Kenzie¡¯s and Miss K¡¯s words were anything to go by. I carefully weighed my options, quickly thinking through the potential risks and rewards. It was a delicate balance, no matter how I cut it¡ªpushing our luck too far could land us in serious trouble, but playing it too safe might mean missing out on something that could give me a real edge down the line as well. ¡°Let¡¯s give it a little more time,¡± I ultimately decided, keeping my voice steady. ¡°We don¡¯t want to rush out and risk running into those guys again. They might be keeping an eye on the backdoor, after all. Besides, might as well make the most of this while we¡¯re here, right? I¡¯d rather leave with some new insights under my belt than empty-handed, if we already have to wait anyway.¡± "Sure thing, you¡¯re the boss," Jade replied with a nonchalant shrug, then slipped back behind the divider, leaving me alone with the three pistols I¡¯d chosen. With nothing else to focus on, I decided it was time to back up my words with some action and dove straight into some serious [Pistols] and [Firearms] training. Swapping out the Siral for the Oranella¡ªthe heaviest of the three pistols¡ªI braced myself and got to work. The 10mm had a bit more kick than the others, but the added weight from its hefty frame made it surprisingly manageable. Thanks to my newly acquired first level in [Pistols], I was able to handle it pretty well, all things considered. I only accidentally hit the groin area one out of every ten shots, usually when I got lazy with my grip. Jade and I kept at it for another half hour, firing down the range until I felt like we¡¯d gotten our fill¡ªand burned through more than enough ammo that wasn¡¯t even ours. My hands were completely numb from all the shooting, the only reason I could keep going was because I alternated between my right and left hands, making full use of my [Ambidexterity] Skill to maximise the grind. And what a grind it had been! Pulling up the System Notifications, I couldn¡¯t help but smile at the progress. Numbers had gone brrr and I loved it!
[System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Pistols] Skill. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for [Firearms] Skill. [System]: [Firearms] Skill has reached Level 1. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 300xp gained for Reflex Attribute.
I had decided to finish out the Level on [Firearms] before calling it quits for today, figuring that having both [Pistols] and it at Level 1 was going to be a lot more useful than leaving it at 0 for who knows how long. Jade had taken a lot more breaks between rounds on the lane, giving her right hand time to recover. I noticed she was cradling it slightly when she thought I wasn¡¯t looking¡ªclearly, the wound she had from my last data collection run was still bothering her. I felt a pang of guilt, remembering how things had gone south the last time we were out together; even if I hadn¡¯t exactly intended for her to be there at all. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Jade¡­ I tried not to hit you,¡¯ I thought with a twinge of regret, recalling the chaos of that last mission. But there was no time to dwell on it¡ªI mentally slapped myself back to the present. My focus had to be on making sure this mission didn¡¯t end the same way. After putting the pistols back where we found them and shutting down the range as best we could, I briefly considered pocketing one of the guns. But I quickly dismissed the idea. ¡°Borrowing¡± some ammo for target practice when left alone was one thing, but outright stealing weapons was a whole different level of risky. Even Mr. Stirling could face serious heat if the store owner realised we¡¯d swiped multiple guns, and we were here on his word, after all. With that settled, we moved toward the back door. I scanned the area for any signs of surveillance¡ªcameras, sensors, anything that might give us a clue about what lay on the other side. I was still worried that the Golden Phoenix enforcers might have the place under watch, and I wanted to avoid any nasty surprises. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t find anything that would help us see what was waiting outside. I knew the place had to have some kind of security setup¡ªno gun store in their right mind would be without it¡ªbut without asking the spooked store owner for help, we were flying blind. And I really did not want to have to track down the owner and potentially have to explain why there were thousands of rounds of ammunition missing. It was always better to leave that kind of discovery for when you were no longer present. With a heavy sigh, I gestured for Jade to move up, and together we gently pushed open the heavy plasteel door, stepping cautiously into the alley behind the gun store... Chapter 87 - Simplum Propositum I scanned the alley carefully as Jade and I started making our way toward the far end, putting as much distance as we could between us and the gun store. I was hoping¡ªmaybe foolishly¡ªthat the Golden Phoenix enforcers were still hanging around the front, none the wiser about our little escape. That hope was short-lived. ¡°Fancy meeting you two here,¡± came the all-too-familiar, irritating voice of their leader, his tone dripping with smugness. I glanced back to see him sauntering toward us with his posse in tow¡ªonly now there were three extra goons tagging along. I barely had time to wonder how they¡¯d figured out we were in the back alley so quickly before I noticed a lanky kid, barely out of his teens, jump out from behind a nearby dumpster, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Great, they had lookouts. Just my luck. I locked eyes with Jade, and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing: Not this shit again. The main group was still a good twenty metres away, but I could see Jade¡¯s posture tense, her body ready to bolt at the first hint that I was about to do the same. It was tempting, to be honest¡ªjust run and hope for the best. But there was one big problem: The leader was casually swinging a pistol around in his hand¡ªa massive gun safety violation, that¡ªa gun he hadn¡¯t shown before. If we bolted now, it wouldn¡¯t just give him a reason to think we were up to something¡ªit¡¯d also give him a perfect excuse to take a shot at us. With the straight, 80-metre stretch of alley ahead of us before we could even think about hitting the next street, we¡¯d be easy targets. We were caught between a rock and a hard place. Running was risky, but staying put wasn¡¯t exactly a great option either. I could almost see the wheels turning in Jade¡¯s head, trying to calculate the odds, just like I was. We needed a plan, and we needed it yesterday. The leader, clearly undeterred by our silence¡ªmaybe even getting a kick out of it¡ªkept up his smug charade. ¡°I believe we¡¯re scheduled for a date, yeah? I assume you¡¯re done with your ¡®shooting lesson,¡¯ which, by the way, seems to have been done without the store owner. But hey, who am I to judge how people teach others these days, eh?¡± His crew, right on cue, chuckled and tossed out a few ¡°Yeah, right¡±s and other idiotic comments, inching closer with every word. They were barely ten metres away now, and it was crystal clear that if we didn¡¯t act fast, we¡¯d be completely surrounded. "Any smart plays like last time?" I whispered to Jade, barely moving my lips to avoid drawing attention. She gave a tiny, hesitant shake of her head. That was all I needed to know. "Alright, that''s far enough," I said, letting my voice cut through the alley with a sharpness that could slice through steel. I channelled every ounce of Edge I could muster into it, hoping to catch them off guard. It worked. The Golden Phoenix boys stopped dead in their tracks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift in tone. "We''ve tried to be nice about it, but I''m done playing games," I continued, standing as tall as I could¡ªwhich, okay, wasn¡¯t exactly impressive, but it was the attitude that mattered. "We''re not interested. Go find someone else to mess with, because whatever you think you''ve got planned? It¡¯s not happening. We¡¯re not easy targets, and we¡¯re definitely not going to roll over for whatever it is you think you''re going to pull if we say no." Their surprise was obvious, but I wasn¡¯t finished. I pressed on, keeping my tone icy. "If the very fact that we had access to that gun range unsupervised didn¡¯t clue you in, then let me spell it out: We''re out of your league. We¡¯re not looking for trouble on this floor, but if you push this, you will regret it. I promise." I watched as the leader''s bravado wavered for just a heartbeat, his eyes narrowing as he tried to size us up. We were either bluffing hard, or we really were out of his league¡ªand he had no way of knowing which. Truth be told, neither did I. Sure, I had a few [Martial Arts] and [CQC] levels under my belt, and my Body stat was sitting pretty at a solid 5, which wasn¡¯t bad for someone my age. But when it came down to an actual fight? I had no real clue if I¡¯d be as effective as I liked to think I was. The thought lingered at the back of my mind, but I pushed it aside¡ªnow wasn¡¯t the time to start doubting myself. Jade was fidgeting nervously beside me already, her anxiety clear as day. Not exactly the kind of energy that would help sell the story I was spinning, but I hoped my confident front would carry us through this. A tense silence filled the alley as the leader kept his eyes on me, weighing his options. His crew was just as unsure, glancing between him and us, clearly waiting for a cue on what to do next. The ball was in his court, and he knew it. But I wasn¡¯t about to let him play his game. I took a small step forward, just enough to keep the pressure on, locking eyes with him and silently cursing for not having invested in [Intimidation] earlier on to know whether what I was doing was correct. "So what¡¯s it gonna be?" I asked, my voice steady. "You can either walk away and nobody needs to know about this whole deal here, or find out just how far out of your depth you truly are." The leader hesitated for just a moment longer, his eyes dropping to the gun in his hand. The instant they locked onto it, I realised I¡¯d pushed a bit too far. Internally cursing my lack of finesse with [Intimidation], I felt every muscle in my body tighten as his gaze returned to me, a devious grin spreading across his face. ¡°Weapons,¡± he barked, and the guys around him broke into nasty chuckles, pulling out knives and slipping on knuckle rings. He turned back to me, voice dripping with arrogance, ¡°Go on then, girl. Show me just how far out of my depth I am. Think you can outrun a bullet, you blank-ass bitch?¡± He strode confidently toward me, gun raised, stopping just a metre away. My body locked up, every instinct screaming at me to move, to run, but I couldn¡¯t hear anything over the pounding in my ears. Adrenaline surged through me, my heart racing, but I was frozen in place. ¡®I¡¯m going to fucking die,¡¯ the thought echoed in my mind as I stared down the barrel pointed at my head. Despair clawed at me, urging me to give in, to beg for forgiveness and to submit to whatever horror they had in store if it simply meant survival. But even as panic threatened to consume me, my Ego clung to the single goal I had given it earlier: Escape. Forcing my emotions into submission, I could feel my Ego working overtime, straining to keep me standing tall and outwardly composed. The pressure was immense, like a crushing weight bearing down on me, ready to snap me in half with the slightest push. It was clear that this was the absolute limit of what my Ego could handle at this Level. But just as I felt myself teetering on the edge, a cold, sharp clarity began to spread through me¡ªmy Edge stepping in to support my Ego. Suddenly, I could feel my body and mind syncing up, primed to react in an instant. Every nerve was on a hair-trigger, a single thought away from action. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. I wasn¡¯t sure if I was apologising to Jade, to myself, or to the universe at large for the mess we were about to plunge into. This situation never should have happened; wouldn¡¯t have happened if I had prepared better. If I¡¯d spent less time messing around and more time honing the right Skills. Social Skills, Combat Skills, Stealth Skills¡ªthose were the three pillars of any Operator build worth its salt. Yet I had thoroughly neglected the first one. Now, I was paying for it, and worse still, I¡¯d dragged Jade into this mess with me. The leader¡¯s grin widened as he heard my whispered apology, clearly thinking I¡¯d folded, that I was begging for mercy. In a way, maybe I was. But the second he glanced back toward his approaching crew, ready to let loose another nugget of golden wisdom and wit, undoubtedly, I let go¡ªlet my body and mind move on autopilot, following the emergency plan I¡¯d cooked up for moments just like this. It wasn¡¯t anything fancy. Fancy plans always failed, just like this last one had. No, this one was simple, and in its simplicity, there was beauty. ¡®Blademaster¡¯s Strike.¡¯ In a flash, far faster than humanly possible, I yanked the RaZ from its sheath on my back while simultaneously lunging forward and turning my head towards the right, out of the firing line, while reaching for the hand holding the gun. The leader wasn¡¯t slow nor stupid¡ªhe¡¯d half-expected a move like this and tried to step away, but by the time he did, it was already far, far too late. There was a disconnect, though. Whether I¡¯d underestimated the RaZ¡¯s sharpness, my own strength at a Body of 5, or the sheer speed granted by [Blademaster¡¯s Strike], I wasn¡¯t sure¡ªmaybe it was all three. Whatever the cause, the outcome was clear. As the leader turned back to me, ready to pull the trigger, nothing happened. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. In my left hand, I held his entire forearm, hand, and gun still attached, poised to shoot. The RaZ in my right hand gleamed with a perfect edge, not a drop of blood marring its surface. The cut was so clean, it looked like he¡¯d been sliced by a laser. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. His crew kept moving toward us, Jade behind me, readying her knives for the inevitable fight, and the leader still wore that victorious grin, completely unaware of what had just happened. Time only resumed when the first torrent of blood spurted from the stump of his arm, the rhythm matching his rapidly accelerating heartbeat. His grin twisted into horror as his brain caught up with the sight before him: Me, holding his severed forearm. The world snapped back into motion with the scream that tore from his throat, his crew halting in their tracks, their expressions flipping from cocky confidence to shock and terror. Jade, who¡¯d been gearing up for a fight, froze mid-motion, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and unadulterated horror. My Edge kept me from violently throwing up at the sight of the blood and the feel of the severed, still-warm forearm in my hand. But it was clear that both my Edge and Ego were struggling to keep up, teetering on the edge of collapse under the weight of what I was putting them through.. ¡®Push now,¡¯ I urged myself, trying to will my body and mind to obey, to keep moving, to stick to the new plan that I had just concocted. I took a step towards the leader, who was stumbling backward in pure panic, and tried to steady my voice. ¡°I told you, you were out of your¡ª¡± ¡°Kill that fucking whore! Kill them both! Fucking kill them!¡± The leader screamed, cutting me off, his voice a mix of pain and rage that pierced through the alley like a siren. Any hope of intimidating them into backing down shattered in that very moment. His frantic orders broke the spell of terror that had held his crew frozen in place. The posse of five lunged toward me and Jade, murder flashing in their eyes, their previous fear overridden by a bloodlust fueled by their leader¡¯s screams. Instinctively, I dropped the severed forearm, my body moving on autopilot as I reached for one of my RI-05s hidden inside my jacket, while tightening my grip on the hilt of the RaZ. ¡®No time for hesitation now,¡¯ I told myself, feeling that strange, eerie calm wash over me¡ªthe same one that always seemed to settle in when things got too intense, like back at Miss K¡¯s dojo with Kenzie. Jade, still wide-eyed with shock, snapped out of it just in time, her hands moving with practised speed as she drew her own knives. We were in this now, and there was no backing down. Without hesitation, I threw the first knife, aiming for the knee of a lanky guy from the posse charging at me with a mean-looking hunting knife. I didn¡¯t even bother checking if it hit, already stepping forward to close the distance between me and the nearest thug. I launched a hard, running-kick straight into his midsection, feeling the satisfying thud as it connected, sending him stumbling back. But there was no time to relish the moment. I sensed movement behind me and instinctively ducked, turning to the side just as another attacker swung his knife at me. The blade skidded harmlessly off the tough composite fibres of my jacket, missing its mark as I completed my turn, ending up in a crouch facing my opponent. He was off-balance from his missed swing, leaving him wide open. I didn¡¯t hesitate. With a swift, brutal motion, I drove the RaZ straight into his kneecap and yanked it downward with all the strength I could muster. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, nearly severing his lower leg entirely as he crumpled to the ground with a scream. Blood sprayed across the alley as the guy crumpled to the ground, clutching at the shredded remains of his knee. My heart was pounding in my chest, but the strange, detached calm kept me moving. There was no time to process what I¡¯d just done; I simply had to keep going. Another thug was already closing in on me, his knuckles gleaming with metal rings that promised a world of pain if they connected. I spun around, whipping out another throwing knife from my jacket and hurling it with all the precision I could muster. The blade sailed through the air, embedding itself in his forearm just as he reared back to strike. His hand jerked back involuntarily, the knife sending a shock of pain through his arm, but he wasn¡¯t down yet. Before he could recover, I lunged at him, slamming the hilt of the RaZ into his stomach with a force that knocked the wind out of him, trying my best to use my limited [Slicer] knowledge to not aim for anything particularly lethal. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and I brought my knee up hard into his face, sending him sprawling back onto the dirty alley floor. The move wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªmore of a desperate swing than anything else¡ªbut it worked. For now. The very next moment the guy I had kicked away to buy me a few seconds of time initially came in swinging his knife at me. Still winded from the exertion and in the process of getting my footing again after laying out the last guy, I had no time to dodge. Raising my arm to protect my throat that he was very clearly going for, I felt the heavy impact as the knife tried to bore its way into my jacket¡ªbut failed. His body crashed into me as he transformed the running slice into a tackle, moving the both of us to the ground. The impact was like getting hit by a truck. We tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs, my back slamming hard against the rough pavement. The guy''s weight bore down on me, and his knife scraped uselessly against the composite fibres of my jacket. But that didn¡¯t stop him from trying to force the blade through, grunting with effort as he pressed it harder against me, forcing my arm and his knife closer and closer towards my face. My mind raced, and my instincts kicked in¡ªI had tussled quite a lot on the ground with Kenzie; I knew this battleground. With one arm pinned beneath me, I used the other to drive the hilt of the RaZ into his side, trying to hit anything that would make him flinch. He grunted in pain but didn¡¯t let up, the blade inching closer to my exposed cheek. I could feel the cold metal almost graze my skin, and panic threatened to overwhelm me. But I couldn¡¯t afford to panic. Not now. With a desperate surge of strength, leveraging all the power my Body of 5 could generate, I twisted my body to the side, managing to free my pinned arm. I brought it up in a brutal arc, slamming my fist into the side of his head. His grip faltered for a split second, and I took the opportunity to shove him off balance. But as I did, another guy loomed over us, his eyes wild as he moved to help his friend¡ªthis wasn¡¯t like the fights in Miss K¡¯s dojo at all! The second guy¡¯s foot came down towards my head, and I barely managed to roll to the side, feeling the rush of air as his boot missed me by inches. I twisted back onto my feet, but the first guy grabbed my ankle, yanking me back down. I hit the ground again, hard, the wind knocked out of me for a second time. He was on me in an instant, his knife slashing wildly at my torso. My jacket absorbed most of the slices and stabs, but I could feel the force behind them, each one threatening to slip past the protective material and find flesh; heavily bruising my ribs and stomach underneath. My mind was a whirl of fear and adrenaline, but my Edge and Ego kept me from relenting. One thing was clear, however: I needed to end this, and fast. There was no chance I could win a two versus one in a situation like this. I brought my knee up sharply, catching the guy in the ribs, causing him to gasp and loosen his grip on my ankle. I wrenched it free and kicked out at his stomach with as much force as I could muster, sending him sprawling back on the ground. But before I could get to my feet, the second guy was already on me again. He came at me with a wild overhead slash, his blade aimed straight for my face. I managed to raise my arm just in time, the knife skidding off the sleeve of my jacket. The force of the blow jarred my arm, bruising it painfully, but I didn¡¯t let it stop me. I swung the RaZ in a wide arc, catching him across the shin. The blade bit deep, and he howled in pain, staggering back with blood streaming down his leg. The first guy was back on me at that very moment, though, his hands grappling with mine as he tried to wrestle the RaZ out of my grip. We rolled across the pavement, trading blows as we fought for control of the blade. He managed to pin down my RaZ between his right arm and his body for a moment as a result of a failed stab on my part, his hands suddenly around my throat as he tried to choke the life out of me. My vision was fading fast, and black spots danced at the edges. Desperation fueled my next move. I released the RaZ that had gotten stuck in the guy¡¯s clothes and grabbed the guy¡¯s head with both hands, forcing my thumbs into his eyes with every ounce of strength I had left. He screamed, thrashing wildly as he tried to pry my hands away, but I didn¡¯t let up. A surge of air rushed back into my lungs, and I didn¡¯t hesitate. I slammed my forehead into the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch, feeling bone and cartilage shatter beneath the impact. Blood sprayed from his face, and his grip on me finally broke as he fell backward, clutching his ruined face. Releasing him, I reached for the RaZ, pulled it out and, in a brutal, desperate motion, drove it into his knee with all my remaining strength. This time, I didn¡¯t miss. The blade sliced clean through the kneecap, severing muscle and bone in one horrifyingly smooth motion. His scream of agony pierced the air as he crumpled to the ground, the lower part of his leg separated from the rest of his body. Blood was everywhere¡ªhis, mine, I couldn¡¯t even tell anymore¡ªbut I didn¡¯t care. I was still alive, and that was all that mattered. But it wasn¡¯t over yet. The second guy was already limping toward me, his knife raised high, determination and rage etched into his face. My breath came in ragged gasps, my energy heavily drained from the high-intensity fight. I scrambled backward, desperately trying to put some distance between us, but there was no way I could outrun him in my state. Then, my hand landed on something slick and fleshy. Realisation struck like a lightning bolt. Without wasting a moment, I dropped the RaZ, turned around and ripped the gun from the severed arm¡¯s hand. I spun around, barely aiming, and fired blindly at the advancing enemy. The gun roared in my hand, a deafening crack as I squeezed the trigger, praying for a hit. With the short distance between us, however, praying was not necessary. The first bullet found its mark with brutal efficiency, hitting the approaching enemy right in the groin. His eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, letting out a scream of pure agony that echoed through the narrow alley. Spinning around, I quickly assessed the rest of the combat situation. Jade was locked in a one-on-one fight with the last remaining guy, her movements cautious and measured. She was clearly playing it safe, not wanting to get hurt after already taking out one of the attackers. Her opponent was relentless, but Jade¡¯s defensive stance was holding him at bay, waiting for the right moment to strike. Without hesitation, I adjusted my aim, focusing on the back of the guy¡¯s leg. Squeezing the trigger once more, I fired. The bullet tore through the air and connected with his calf, dropping him to the ground with a strangled cry of pain. Jade didn¡¯t waste the opportunity, immediately closing in to disarm him, her knives flashing as she sliced the muscles on both of his arms, before kicking him in the face hard enough to knock him out. With all the immediate threats neutralised, the alley fell into a tense, heavy silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the two of us and the cries and whimpers of the enemies around us. The fight was over, but the adrenaline still pumped through my veins, clouding my thoughts and making it hard to focus. There was one thing, however, that I knew I needed to do. Using what little energy I had left, I forced myself up from the ground, my legs shaky and my vision still a bit blurred. I stumbled towards the enemy leader, who was desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his freshly severed arm. His panic was palpable, his frantic muttering filling the air. ¡°I¡­ told¡­ you,¡± I panted, each word a struggle. ¡°We¡­ were¡­ out¡­ of¡­ your¡­ league.¡± His response was a jumbled mess of fear and disbelief, ¡°That bitch took off my arm¡­! Fuck¡­! MY arm! Fuck!¡± Without a second thought, I stepped closer and swung the butt of the pistol against his temple, silencing his ramblings as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Kneeling down beside him, I pulled out the Coagulator and jammed it into the stump of his arm. The auto-injector hissed as it delivered its dose, and I watched as the bleeding slowed to a stop, the rhythmic pulsing of blood ebbing away. The wound sealed up quickly, the medicine doing its job. I didn¡¯t stop there, however. Moving from one fallen enemy to the next, I checked their injuries and used whatever scraps of clothing I could find to bandage their wounds, especially the ones where I had nearly¡ªor entirely¡ªsevered their legs at the knee. Jade, still in complete shock but surprisingly focused and quick-minded, quietly helped with those I couldn¡¯t reach, her usual chatter gone as she worked in silence. The guys were surprisingly subdued now, reduced to grunts, cries of pain, and occasional whimpers. None of their earlier bravado or sleazy comments remained¡ªa small mercy in the midst of the chaos. Once the last of them was rudimentarily bandaged and I had gathered up all my gear¡ªthe throwing knives and the RaZ I had dropped¡ªI signalled to Jade that it was time to go. We needed to get out of here, fast. I led the way out of the alley and onto the open street, not caring about the blood that soaked through my clothes. Some of it was mine, but most of it was theirs. Hiding in the crowd with this much blood on us wasn¡¯t really an option. But at this point, blending in wasn¡¯t our main concern. The Golden Phoenix enforcers had undoubtedly already called for backup. Our only hope was to move quickly and put as much distance between us and them as possible. So, we ran¡­ Chapter 88 - Escape PoV: Jade Jade followed Ela out of the alley with hurried steps, her hands moving on autopilot as she slid her knives back into their sheaths. Her mind was spinning, tangled in a chaotic mess of adrenaline, disbelief, and sheer panic. This whole mission had gone sideways the moment those Golden Phoenix enforcers had shown up, but Jade never imagined it would end with them tearing through the group like this. Not only had they just trashed an entire squad of enforcers on Golden Phoenix¡¯s home turf, but Ela had gone at it with barely any restraint. Jade couldn¡¯t really blame her for that¡ªthe guys had come at them with clear intentions to kill, and it was fight or die at that point. Still, she hadn¡¯t expected things to escalate this much to begin with. What had really caught Jade off guard, though, was how Ela had actually kept her word about not killing anyone. Despite the sheer brutality of the brawl, Ela had even gone out of her way to patch the guys up afterward, administering just enough first aid to keep them breathing as long as help got there fast. It was a sight Jade couldn¡¯t quite wrap her head around¡ªEla, drenched in blood, calmly moving from one screaming, bleeding enforcer to the next, hastily tying off wounds and stopping the worst of the bleeding. The scene was burned into her memory, a grim reminder of how completely out of her depth she was dealing with this girl. But it wasn¡¯t just the fight or the blood that rattled her. It was the sheer unpredictability of Ela as a whole. One minute, she was helping Jade set up a shooting lesson in the back room of a gun shop like they were just a couple of bored teens, and the next, she was out here dismantling gang members with a level of efficiency that was frankly fucking frightening. ¡®What the fuck did I just get myself into¡ªWhat the fuck did Vega get us all into?!¡¯ Jade thought, her heart racing as she replayed everything that had happened. She¡¯d hoped that once Ela had dragged them into that shop, there was some kind of plan in place¡ªmaybe sneak out the back quickly to dodge a fight altogether or something akin to that. But Ela had clearly been operating on a different wavelength altogether. The fact that Ela had enough pull with the shop owner to not only get them private access to the shooting range but also to just casually leave them unsupervised with a whole arsenal at their disposal? That was just the start of it. Ela had spent a good chunk of time just messing around, enjoying the shooting range like it was a personal playground¡ªpractising trick shots, going through hundreds of rounds, and even honing her weaker left-handed aim, which still sent more than a few bullets smacking into the back wall. Jade had appreciated the chance to get some range time in herself, but there was something deeply unnerving about how Ela treated it all like a casual training day in the middle of what was supposed to be a covert mission. The girl clearly had skills¡ªher handling of different pistol variants, her almost scary accuracy, especially when aiming for some¡­ specific lower regions¡ªbut it was the sheer nonchalance that had really gotten under Jade¡¯s skin. This wasn¡¯t just some kid with a knack for firearms; this was someone with a whole other level of experience in doing these types of missions, someone who seemed more comfortable toeing the line between order and chaos than in any one region of either. The other girl hadn¡¯t even tried to get them out of the enforcer mess without throwing down; hell, she¡¯d practically invited the fight herself, squaring up to the enforcer leader and practically daring him to make a move. And man, what a ¡°fight¡± that had turned out to be¡­ ¡®How the fuck did she even do any of that¡­?¡¯ Jade kept asking herself as they ducked into yet another crowded street, two blocks away from where they¡¯d left the enforcers bleeding out in the alley. Ela was moving like she was on autopilot, her pace relentless, and Jade was struggling to keep up¡ªnot just with Ela¡¯s stamina and speed, but with how downright effortlessly she weaved through the crowd like they were just another part of the scenery. Jade¡¯s mind, however, kept spinning back to the moment when everything had gone completely sideways. That one moment, stuck on repeat in her head. The leader, standing barely a metre from Ela, his pistol trained right at her head, ready to end it all in a single shot. And Ela? Not a hint of fear, not even an ounce of hesitation. She just stared him down, cool as ice, like he wasn¡¯t holding a fucking pistol but a nutrient pack instead. That calm, unflinching look on her face was seared into Jade¡¯s memory¡ªa look that had simply screamed, ¡®You¡¯re nothing.¡¯ ¡®Then again, I guess she wasn¡¯t wrong¡­¡¯ Jade thought, shuddering as she remembered the exact moment it all flipped. One second, the leader was puffing himself up, spouting off garbage to his crew, relishing in his power trip¡ªand then, just like that, his arm was gone. Just popped right off like a scav ripper harvesting the newest victim¡¯s poorly attached cybernetics. There was no better way to put it. One second, it was there; the next, it was already in Ela¡¯s hand, his gun still gripped in his fingers. Jade had been watching everyone like a hawk, adrenaline heightening every sense to the max, and still¡ªstill¡ªshe hadn¡¯t even seen Ela move until it was too late. She hadn¡¯t even blinked and the leader¡¯s arm was suddenly severed, Ela¡¯s knife slicing through it like it was a thin sheet of fibre cloth with a sharpness that made it seem like it had been cut by a fucking laser. ¡®Just how the fuck¡­?!¡¯ Jade¡¯s mind raced. Not even Emira, who was hands-down the fastest among their sisters, could¡¯ve pulled off something like that. Emira was a complete demon in close combat, her speed unmatched by even most of the Clawed Beasts top enforcers, but even she couldn¡¯t have just casually disarmed someone in the literal sense of the word like that. Not with that level of finesse. Not with that level of sheer brutality. Not with that insane speed. Jade couldn¡¯t shake the unsettling revelation that was now circling her mind like a vulture. It made her question the Clawed Beasts'' involvement with Ela entirely; there was really only one explanation for that kind of speed¡ªand it was something none of them should be messing with or even getting close to: Speedware. Ela had fucking speedware chipped. Not some low-grade, black market junk, either. This was the real deal, proper speedware. The kind that turned you into a walking fucking calamity. The kind that most street gangs and even minor corpos couldn¡¯t get their hands on without risking everything. The truly wild part? It was installed on a girl around her age. Unless they¡¯d all misjudged Ela¡¯s appearance and she was actually way older than she looked¡ªwhich was starting to feel more and more likely with every new piece of this insane puzzle¡ªthis was far beyond next-level crazy. Speedware wasn¡¯t your run-of-the-mill enhancement; it was one of the most intrusive cybernetics to have ever existed. Even hardened cyberborgs struggled to handle the strain of proper speedware. Bodies and minds often just couldn¡¯t keep up with the relentless demands it placed on them, leaving even the most seasoned veterans burned out or straight-up cyberpsycho within a year of chipping. But Ela? She moved like she was born with it, like the speedware was just another natural part of her being. No hesitation, no obvious signs of bodily or mental strain at all. Either she was hiding her age like a pro, or she was some kind of lab-grown black-site experiment that had somehow broken free and was now running loose in Delta. It was the only explanation that made sense. Big corpos were the only ones who could afford high-grade speedware designed to work on teenagers and had enough bodies to throw at the inevitable failures until they someday got it right. If that truly was the case, however¡­ Jade had no possible frame of reference to even wager a guess at what kind of monster they¡¯d just accidentally aligned themselves with. ¡®I¡¯ve gotta tell Vega and somehow get us the fuck out of this fucking deal,¡¯ Jade thought, the sheer panic of it settling in like a lead weight in her gut. ¡®This is gonna get us all killed; and not in the nice, nor the far-distant kind of ways!¡¯ Trying to keep her wits about her, she¡¯d already sent out a quick message to her sisters the second they¡¯d bolted from the alley: [Olivia, Yarn]. A basic cipher they used to signal that she was okay but things were getting dicey and that backup might be needed soon. There wasn¡¯t enough time or mental space to send a full report while sprinting after Ela, whose stamina seemed straight-up supernatural. Finally, after what felt like forever, they ducked into a narrow alley four blocks away from the fight. Ela leaned against the wall, carefully scanning their surroundings, but Jade¡¯s mind was still racing as she took some heavy breaths. The thought of the speedware gnawed at her relentlessly, not letting her relax for even a second. She glanced at Ela, who was casually wiping blood from her gear like they¡¯d just had a friendly sparring match. There wasn¡¯t a single bead of sweat on her forehead, no heavy panting¡ªjust that cold, unreadable look she always wore. It was unnerving. Ela was more than just dangerous¡ªshe was unpredictable, and whatever kind of fucked-up game she was playing was way out of Jade¡¯s league, maybe even Vega¡¯s. When Ela¡¯s emerald eyes met hers abruptly, piercing and unsettlingly calm despite the chaos they¡¯d just left behind, Jade almost flinched. ¡°You good?¡± Ela asked, her voice cool and detached, mirroring the sweat trickling down Jade¡¯s back. The way she said it, like they¡¯d just finished a light jog instead of a street brawl followed by a mad dash through crowds and crowds of people on a hostile floor, only added to the surrealness of the situation. Swallowing hard and trying to steady her breathing, Jade forced out, ¡°Yeah¡­ Not hurt. You?¡± Her words came out choked, half from exhaustion, half from sheer disbelief at what they¡¯d just survived. Ela glanced down at her right arm¡ªthe one not holding the stolen pistol¡ªand her expression turned oddly pained, almost petulant. ¡°Got hit pretty bad on the arm. Might be cracked¡­ It¡¯s kind of painful,¡± she muttered, sounding both annoyed and, somehow, just a little bit whiny. Jade blinked, struggling to process what she¡¯d just heard. ¡®A¡­ crack?¡¯ she thought, caught between disbelief and a sudden, bizarre urge to laugh. ¡®Did she really just say that? After going one-vs-five in a fucking melee, she¡¯s whining about a fucking crack being her worst injury?¡¯ The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She stared at Ela, still half expecting to see some hidden, grievous injury under all that blood. The girl was drenched in it¡ªhers, theirs, who even knew anymore? For a moment, Jade had actually been worried that Ela was nursing something serious, some hidden wound that had been kept a secret by her seemingly superhuman endurance and uncanny calm. But no. Apparently, the biggest issue the girl had right now was a slightly painful crack. The absurdity of it all made Jade¡¯s head spin. They¡¯d just fought through a near-hopeless melee, dodged knives, blocked blows, and danced on the edge of death, all while surrounded by pissed-off gang members¡ªand Ela¡¯s main takeaway was that her arm was a little sore? Jade couldn¡¯t tell if she was impressed or utterly horrified. ¡®What kind of fucking psycho complains about a damn crack after all that?!¡¯ she wondered, shaking her head. Ela¡¯s view of what constituted ¡°danger¡± or ¡°pain¡± was clearly on a whole nother level, and Jade wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d ever understand it. Ela flexed her fingers experimentally, wincing slightly. ¡°Yeah¡­ definitely cracked,¡± she concluded with a nod, sounding more annoyed than anything else. ¡°But I think I¡¯ll live... Just gotta work around it, I guess...¡± Straightening up and taking a careful peek around the corner of the alley back toward the bustling thoroughfare they had just come from, Ela turned back toward Jade after a few seconds, her eyes scanning every inch of the street. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re good for now. You okay to keep going, or do you need a breather?¡± she asked. Jade wanted nothing more than to bolt off this cursed floor and never look back, but her body had other plans. The anxiety that had gripped her ever since she¡¯d joined Ela, followed by the run-in with the gang enforcers, the bizarre stint in the shooting range, and the brutal melee that had ended in a frantic dash through the crowded streets, had left her completely drained. ¡°Give me a minute¡ªmaybe two,¡± she admitted quietly, almost mumbling it to herself more than to Ela. She hated showing any kind of weakness, especially in front of someone as unpredictable as Ela, but she didn¡¯t have much choice. If Ela pushed on and she couldn¡¯t keep up, there was no telling how things might go sideways. With Ela at her side, she was pretty sure nothing on this floor could pose a real threat, given the insane display of skill Ela had put on during the fight. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take two then,¡± Ela replied with a nod, offering Jade a surprisingly genuine smile, the kind that said, ¡°Relax, I got this.¡± Jade had no idea how to read this girl, nor where to even begin trying. She¡¯d figured out a while ago that Ela was way beyond her league, but the more time she spent around her, the more baffled she became. Ela¡¯s personality seemed to swing wildly¡ªfrom cool, professional operator one second to a clumsy, almost awkward amateur the next. One moment, she was bloodthirsty and ruthless, and the next, she was disarmingly charming, almost protective. It was like she had two sides constantly battling for control, with no apparent pattern or reason behind when one would emerge over the other. There was something oddly captivating about that duality, Jade had to admit. A mystery that almost beckoned her to dig deeper, to figure out what made Ela tick. But Jade knew better than to give in to that urge. Ela was clearly something far more dangerous than any of them had initially assumed¡ªsome kind of black-site project with chipped speedware that put her on another level entirely. Getting too close was a guaranteed ticket to a world of trouble that neither she nor anyone in the Clawed Beasts was anywhere close to prepared to be able to handle. Taking the time to catch her breath, Jade leaned heavily against the cold rock-crete wall, her eyes never leaving Ela. As much as Ela was trying to keep the two of them safe, Jade couldn¡¯t help but think it was instead the rest of the floor that needed protecting¡ªfrom the very existence of the girl standing in front of her and the consequences her existence could cause¡­
I was on high alert, scanning every corner, every shadow, and listening for anything that could spell trouble for Jade and me. The scrap with the Golden Phoenix enforcers had left me running on fumes, but thanks to my intense training routine and my Body of 5, my stamina was holding up better than expected¡ªeven if I could feel that familiar heaviness creeping in. It was only a matter of time before my energy gave out, but I was determined to keep it together until we were clear of this hellhole. Jade, on the other hand, looked like she was barely hanging on by a thread, so this short breather was a godsend for the both of us. Still, every second felt like an eternity, and all I wanted was to get off this cursed floor as fast as possible. ¡®What a complete fucking mess¡­¡¯ I thought bitterly, sneaking another cautious look around the corner of the alley into the bustling thoroughfare. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that eyes were still on us. What was supposed to be a quick in-and-out had turned into another chaotic chase, just like my last run. I had prepped meticulously, going over every angle and making sure all bases were covered, but the universe clearly had other plans. My careful strategies had unravelled the moment those creeps showed up, throwing everything into chaos. ¡®Who could have predicted those fucking scumbags would show up though¡­?¡¯ I muttered internally, unsure if I¡¯d messed up in my planning or if the universe just enjoyed fucking with me. Either way, I¡¯d need some serious feedback from Mr. Stirling once this was all over. I couldn¡¯t afford this kind of shitshow every single time I took on a Task¡ªnot if I actually wanted to make a name for myself as an Operator in the future. I winced as I absent-mindedly prodded my bruised arm, a surge of annoyance flaring up with the pain. ¡®If I¡¯d just killed them all, I wouldn¡¯t be nursing this crap right now.¡¯ The thought caught me off guard, dark and unexpected, and I blinked at the sudden shift in my own mentality. I wasn¡¯t keen on crossing that line unless absolutely necessary; killing wasn¡¯t something I wanted on my conscience if I could help it. Sure, those guys had come at us hard, and their leader had been all too happy to bark out orders to end us, but they were just kids, barely older than us. They didn¡¯t strike me as the kind of people who deserved to die, just a bunch of teenage punks caught up in the wrong crowd. I knew this world wasn¡¯t exactly forgiving of my kind of naivety, and I¡¯d have to toughen up eventually if I was going to survive here, but going full murder-hobo wasn¡¯t who I wanted to be¡ªat least, I think. I knew I¡¯d have to make peace with the idea of killing someday in this dystopian nightmare of a city, but I sure as hell wasn¡¯t there yet. It was a jarring thought, though, considering how much effort my Ego had put into keeping me from retching when I¡¯d severed that guy¡¯s arm. Just the memory of the blood and that sickening moment flashed in my mind, and I felt bile rise in my throat, my Ego barely managing to keep it together so I didn¡¯t embarrass myself in front of Jade. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe deeply as I shook off the gruesome thoughts, determined to get through this. No way was I going to let this place break me down¡ªnot yet, not today. I glanced over at Jade, who was still leaning heavily against the wall, her breaths coming in ragged, shallow bursts. Her forehead was sweaty, eyes darting around nervously as she tried to keep her composure. I couldn¡¯t blame her; it¡¯d been a rough day, and we were both running on fumes. But sitting around wasn¡¯t doing us any favours. We needed to move¡ªnow. ¡°You good to go?¡± I asked, keeping my voice low and steady, trying not to let my own anxiety seep through. Jade nodded, swallowing hard as she straightened up, though her hands were still trembling slightly. ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah, I¡¯m good. Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here.¡± With that, I took the lead, weaving us back into the labyrinth of thoroughfares that made up the 38th floor. The floor plan from Mr. Stirling¡¯s intel flashed through my mind as I recalled the locations of every possible escape route. I had marked over a dozen different elevators we could use, each one carefully noted down ahead of time just in case we had to improvise an exit strategy¡ªand, unsurprisingly, we were knee-deep in one of those worst-case scenarios; at least one part of my planning had paid off. I kept a brisk but steady pace, making sure Jade was right on my heels. My eyes flickered constantly, scanning the crowded walkways for any signs of the Golden Phoenix enforcers. They were out in force, their gang colours standing out like warnings on every corner. Some leaned casually against shop fronts, pretending to be on their phones, while others roamed in pairs, eyes scanning every passerby like they were looking for a prize. I tightened my grip on Jade¡¯s arm slightly, tugging her closer to me as we ducked into the throng of people. ¡°Stay close,¡± I whispered, my tone firm but reassuring. ¡°We blend in, we stay low, and we don¡¯t make any sudden moves. Got it?¡± Jade gave a sharp nod, her eyes sharp and focused despite the fatigue. ¡°Got it. Let¡¯s just¡­ not run into any more of those assholes.¡± With that agreement between us, we moved like shadows through the crowd. I took every opportunity to put distance between us and the enforcers, turning corners quickly and using the crowds to our advantage, slipping behind larger groups and ducking into stalls whenever we needed a moment to recalibrate our direction. I could feel the weight of every second passing, each one amplifying the tension as we navigated our way through the floor. Every once in a while, I¡¯d pick up on a certain movement or specific way that Jade moved that made her appear far more inconspicuous than I was and tried to mimic her; but my mind was primarily busy with keeping us safe, so my attempts at imitation and self-improvement were half-hearted at best. We then passed a group of street performers, the blaring music and chaotic dancing providing just enough distraction for us to slip behind a food stall without being noticed. I gestured for Jade to keep her head down as we crouched behind a row of large crates, stealing another moment to catch our breath. I peeked around the side, spotting a pair of enforcers heading our way, but they were too busy loudly harassing a nearby street-vendor to notice us. ¡°This way,¡± I mouthed to Jade, pointing toward a narrow alley that would take us toward one of the marked elevators. She nodded, following my lead as we silently moved past the commotion. I kept a mental count of our distance from each elevator as we moved, recalculating our route on the fly whenever I spotted another group of enforcers. My muscles were coiled tight the entire time, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger. I could see Jade¡¯s nervous glances at every turn, but she was keeping it together surprisingly well, her trust in our combined efforts evident as she followed along and did her best to cover our rear¡ªwe were a surprisingly good team, all things considered. As we neared the next elevator on my mental list, I finally saw it¡ªthe familiar, boxy structure tucked into a less crowded corner of the thoroughfare. But just as relief started to settle in, I spotted two enforcers standing guard right by the doors, eyes darting around suspiciously. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered under my breath, quickly pulling Jade back around the corner before they could see us. ¡°They¡¯ve got the elevator covered.¡± ¡°Any plan?¡± Jade asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I bit my lip, weighing our options. We could try to fight our way through, but we were both exhausted, and taking on two enforcers head-on was a risky move¡ªespecially because these guys didn¡¯t seem as fresh and untrained as the boys we had run into earlier; these were straight up bulky-ass adults. We needed a distraction, something to draw them away long enough for us to slip past. ¡°Hold on,¡± I whispered, an idea forming in my mind. ¡°We need to create some chaos...¡± I scanned the crowd, the stalls, and the shops on and near the thoroughfare, desperately searching for anything that could be used to our advantage. My eyes darted around, but nothing immediately stood out. The enforcers were still stationed near the elevator, and with every second, the window of opportunity was closing as more and more Golden Phoenix members were undoubtedly searching for us on the floor. Then, my gaze randomly fell on the pistol still clutched in my left hand¡ªthe one I¡¯d ripped from the severed arm back in the alley. The thought of firing it in such a crowded area was reckless, borderline insane even, but right now, it was whispering sweet nothings into my ear¡ªthe only way to stir up the chaos we needed. I glanced at Jade, her eyes wide as she followed my line of sight to the gun. She shook her head vehemently, clearly following at least parts of my thought process. We didn¡¯t have another option. ¡°Just a distraction,¡± I muttered, more to myself than to her, as I tightened my grip on the gun. ¡°And aim away from the crowd¡­¡± I aimed high, targeting the overhanging sign of a nearby shop¡ªa bright, gaudy neon monstrosity that looked like it had seen better days. It seemed to read something like ¡°Oruba Knives¡± but it was hard to make out considering the flickering letters. With a deep breath, I steadied my hand and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rang out, impossibly loud, echoing across the bustling thoroughfare. The bullet tore through the sign, sending sparks flying and chunks of neon glass raining down onto the crowd below. A moment later, the sign teetered precariously before crashing onto the ground with a resounding clatter, knocking over a series of crates and stalls in its wake. The entire area erupted into chaos. Shoppers screamed, ducking and scattering in every direction, while vendors rushed to protect their goods from the sudden pandemonium. The sound of shouting and confusion spread like wildfire, the thoroughfare turning into a mass of panicked bodies trying to escape the scene. Some of the panicked people in the crowd fell and got trampled by others, but there was no time for me to lament them. The enforcers¡¯ attention snapped instantly towards the commotion. They moved away from the elevator, pushing through the crowd to see what had caused the sudden explosion of chaos, their hands on their weapons¡ªpistols for both of them. ¡°Now!¡± I hissed, grabbing Jade¡¯s arm and dragging her through the swarm of frantic people. We ducked low, weaving through the confusion and using the commotion as cover. My heart pounded in my chest as we slipped past the enforcers, who were too distracted to notice us slipping away. We made it to the elevator, and I slammed the button with a desperate urgency, repeatedly jabbing at it as though it would make the doors open faster. Come on, come on! The elevator doors finally slid open, and we dove inside, practically throwing ourselves against the back wall as I hit the close button with as much force as I could muster. The enforcers were still trying to restore order, their shouts barely audible over the panicked crowd, but the doors finally shut, sealing us inside. We were out of sight, safe for the moment. Jade leaned against the wall, panting heavily, her eyes still wide from the adrenaline rush. I could feel my own breath coming in ragged gasps, but as the elevator began its descent, I let out a shaky laugh¡ªhalf relief, half disbelief that we¡¯d actually pulled it off. ¡°That was¡­ beyond reckless,¡± Jade said between breaths, her voice filled with a mix of fear and relief. ¡°But fuck¡­ it somehow worked, didn¡¯t it?¡± I nodded, still catching my breath as the tension began to slowly ebb away. ¡°Yeah¡­ let¡¯s just hope we never have to see any of those blanks again.¡± The elevator hummed softly as it carried us further from the chaos above. For now, we¡¯d made our escape, but the echoes of that gunshot still lingered in my ears¡ªa stark reminder that in this world, sometimes you had to create your own way out, even if it meant leaving absolute pandemonium in your wake¡­ Chapter 89 - Sale The adrenaline was wearing off fast, and I was trying to steady my breath, coaxing my body back to a state that didn¡¯t feel like I¡¯d just outrun death. The escape from the 38th floor was still fresh, each heartbeat pounding like a drum in my chest. Jade looked just as winded, slumped against the elevator wall, but at least we¡¯d lucked out with having the ride to ourselves. Though, calling it luck was a bit of a stretch. Thinking back on those frantic final moments, it was obvious why we were alone in here: The panicked faces of people who had wanted to jump in with us but thought better of it the second they saw me¡ªblood-streaked, eyes wild, and still clutching the gun I¡¯d ripped from that kid¡¯s severed arm. They¡¯d made a collective decision to take the stairs, wait for the next ride, or just get the hell out of Dodge rather than get tangled up with whatever nightmare Jade and I were living through. So, yeah¡ªluck wasn¡¯t quite the right word. More like good old-fashioned human self-preservation working in our favour. Either way, I wasn¡¯t complaining. The few moments of quiet gave me a chance to gather my thoughts, plan our next steps before the elevator stopped on the 16th floor¡ªthe first button my shaky hand had instinctively jabbed when we¡¯d stumbled inside. It wasn¡¯t exactly home turf, but I knew the layout well enough from my visits to Mr. Shori¡¯s shop. That familiarity would make it easier to slip away if anyone had somehow managed to follow us this far. But before we hit the ground running again, there was one glaring issue that needed dealing with: The stolen pistol still clutched in my hand. This thing was a problem on every conceivable level. I didn¡¯t have a licence to carry it in the megabuilding¡ªnot that I had ammo to spare, or any idea where to get more without begging for favours from Mr. Stirling that I had no intention of offering up anytime soon. Plus, walking around with a gun wasn¡¯t exactly the subtle approach I was trying to cultivate. It screamed trouble, and the last thing I needed was more of that. One day, sure, I¡¯d be the kind of person who could walk around with a whole arsenal strapped to me without batting an eye. I¡¯d get the licences, build up the Skills, make it so no one even thought twice about it. But today wasn¡¯t that day, and right now, the gun was nothing but a massive liability. And then there was the other problem: It wasn¡¯t just any gun¡ªit was stolen straight off a Golden Phoenix enforcer. Worse, the kind of cocky kid who¡¯d probably drop his dad¡¯s name in every conversation. He had that ¡°my father will hear of this¡± vibe that reeked of entitlement and the kind of connections I absolutely did not want on my tail. Cutting his arm off had definitely put me on their radar already. I¡¯d been aiming to disarm him, but not like¡­ well disarm him. That was just how it played out, and now, holding onto this gun was like carrying around a glowing neon sign that read, ¡°Come find me. It was I who cut off your arm!¡± I let out a shaky sigh, eyeing the gun one last time before deciding I needed to ditch it, fast. No point in hanging onto it when it was basically a flashing sign saying, ¡°Come get me.¡± As much as having a firearm for future tight spots would¡¯ve been a comfort, the risks far outweighed the rewards at the time. I glanced over at Jade, who was still catching her breath. She¡¯d been a real asset on this mission, even if just about every plan I¡¯d laid out had either blown up in my face or spiralled completely out of control. But the one decision to bring Jade along as backup had panned out, which was something. ¡®One out of six plans working? Could be worse,¡¯ I mused. But then another idea abruptly snuck into my head alongside it, and a grin started to spread across my face. ¡®The Clawed Beasts and the Golden Phoenix are sworn enemies, no? I bet they wouldn¡¯t mind getting their hands on a weapon lifted straight off one of the Phoenix¡¯s enforcers...¡¯ It was almost too perfect. I knew just the person to offload this problem onto¡ªsomeone with connections higher up in the Clawed Beasts who might even toss a few creds my way for the trouble. It¡¯d be a massive win-win: I¡¯d get rid of the gun without having to worry about it tracing back to me, and I¡¯d score a bit of extra credits on the side as well. With a plan rapidly forming in my mind, it seemed like the ideal way to turn this whole mess into something a little more worthwhile. I quickly pulled up the System Interface, letting the notifications scroll by as I searched for a specific one, eager to put my new plan into motion right away, while we were still stuck in the elevator together.
[System]: 600xp (+300xp Bonus) gained for [Deception] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Appraise] Skill. [System]: 1,200xp gained for [CQC] Skill. [System]: [CQC] Skill has reached Level 2. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 600xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: [Martial Arts] Skill has reached Level 3. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [Martial Arts] Perk Point available. [System]: 300xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 400xp gained for [{Anima-Razor}] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Throwing] Skill. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for [Pistols] Skill. [System]: [Pistols] Skill has reached Level 2. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 400xp (+200xp Bonus) gained for [Firearms] Skill. [System]: Golden Phoenix Ganger (Rookie-Enforcer) defeated. [x6] [System]: 30xp gained for defeating Golden Phoenix Ganger (Rookie-Enforcer). [x6] [System]: Golden Phoenix Ganger (Rookie-Enforcer Leader) defeated. [System]: 70xp gained for defeating Golden Phoenix Ganger (Rookie-Enforcer Leader). [System]: 800xp gained for [First-Aid] Skill. [System]: [First-Aid] Skill has reached Level 2. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 300xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: 1,600xp gained for [Intimidation] Skill. [System]: [Intimidation] Skill has reached Level 1. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: [Intimidation] Skill has reached Level 2. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available. [System]: 600xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 400xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 800xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 1,900xp (+800xp Bonus) gained for Edge Attribute. Stored Bonus Experience has reached 0. [System]: 1,100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Anima Attribute.
My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I saw the sheer amount of experience the System had dumped on me from this wild ride, but before I could let the giddy excitement take over, my Ego swooped in, keeping me grounded. ¡®Save the celebrations for later,¡¯ I reminded myself. There was still a job to finish. Refocusing, I scrolled through the notifications until I found exactly what I was looking for: the [Intimidation] Skill downloads. I hadn¡¯t expected much, maybe one level if I was lucky, having given it a 50/50 that I actually had something waiting for me here, so seeing that it hadn¡¯t just levelled once but twice was more than just a pleasant surprise. I was definitely not going to complain¡ªespecially since I was likely going to need every ounce of that Skill right now. I pressed my back against the elevator wall, trying to minimise any outward reactions that Jade might catch onto. She was sharp, and I didn¡¯t need her poking around in my headspace right now. Taking a steadying breath, I mentally nudged the System to kickstart the Muscle-Memory and Knowledge downloads for Levels 1 and 2 of [Intimidation]. The moment the download began, I felt a surge of heat and tension spread through my body, like someone had turned on the pressure cooker inside my head. My vision flickered for a split second as the information started to flood in¡ªnuances, postures, subtle shifts in voice, eye contact; everything needed to make myself come off as just that little bit scarier than I had any right to be. It was truly wild how much there was to absorb and maybe doing two Levels at once wasn¡¯t exactly the smartest of choices, but time was of the essence. The System wasn¡¯t just dumping some random know-how into my brain either¡ªit was downright reshaping the very way I carried myself, giving me the instincts to push people¡¯s buttons without even trying too hard. My muscles twitched with newfound muscle memory, every little movement slightly more deliberate, slightly more commanding. I could feel the shift immediately, and it was oddly reassuring¡ªlike I¡¯d just unlocked a whole new tool in my kit that I hadn¡¯t even known I was missing. But as much as the new knowledge felt empowering, it also came with a gut-punch of embarrassment. The more the System filled in the gaps, the more I realised just how amateurish my previous attempts at intimidation had been. It was like having a front-row seat to a brutally honest highlight reel of my most cringe-worthy moments, showing exactly why the Golden Phoenix enforcer had no choice but to throw down with me. Every awkward pause, every misplaced threat, every sloppy movement and every instance where I pushed far too hard for no reason¡ªlaid bare in excruciating detail. It was like watching a "How Not to Intimidate" tutorial, but instead of just an in-depth, 40-minute YouTube video, it was my own screw-ups on repeat, dissected down to the second, and crammed into my head all at once. I didn¡¯t just feel exposed; I felt like I¡¯d been caught out in the middle of a performance with no lines memorised and my pants around my ankles. The urge to just melt through the elevator floor and vanish was almost overwhelming. The realisation that Jade, the enforcers, and probably half the damn floor had witnessed my pathetic excuses for intimidation prior to this point made me want to curl up and disappear. But, as always, the System didn¡¯t have a "graceful exit" button, and I was left standing there, stewing in my newfound awareness of just how out of my depth I¡¯d been. Forcing myself to push past the cringe, I gripped the stolen gun tighter in my hand, grounding myself with the cold, hard reality of what still needed to be done. There was no going back, no way to rewrite the past few hours of screw-ups, but at least now, with this new edge, I could make damn sure I didn¡¯t fumble the ball on this same thing in the future; starting with my attempt at selling this damned gun to the Clawed Beasts. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. As my vision returned to normal and the downloads finally ceased, I immediately double-checked to see whether Jade was showing any indication that she had caught on to something being off about me¡ªI couldn¡¯t afford her, of all people, to catch even a whiff of the System. Luckily she was still breathing heavily on my right, leaning heavily against the wall with her back, eyes shut tight and face turned towards the ceiling. ¡®Alright, showtime, Sera. Don¡¯t mess this up now,¡¯ I hyped myself up, before tapping into my newly found [Intimidation] knowledge and letting my Edge chill my demeanour down to an icy level. With a heavy stomp, I abruptly stepped up into Jade¡¯s personal space, startling her horribly as I did. ¡°Call your boss,¡± I demanded immediately, without giving her even a second to recover. [Intimidation] told me that I needed to be assertive and not lose momentum if I wanted to be successful on this. It would have been nice to simply use [Negotiation] for this whole thing, as I really didn¡¯t want Jade to be scared of me as a whole, but necessity dictated that things needed to be done fast; [Negotiation] was not fast. ¡°I¡­ What? Why?¡± Jade replied, stuttering and trying to wrap her head around what was going on. I simply stared her down, letting my Edge do the talking through my eyes. I practically saw her wilt in front of me over the next few seconds, as the combative side of Jade quickly folded under my silent glare. ¡°Okay, okay¡­! One second,¡± she finally conceded, after failing to inch away from me in the narrow space the elevator afforded us. Her eyes turned yellow as she started the call. ¡°Patch me in,¡± I ordered, not wanting her to have a chance to let anything slip past me; I needed this to go well. A simple, hesitant nod from her end caused a connection request to pop up on my cerebral interface, which I immediately agreed to. While Jade was setting up the call, I prepared the last important part of the plan. Using [Appraisal] on the pistol in my hands, I read through the information quickly; paying particular attention to the specs of the gun and the estimated price the System was recommending for it. [== Alter Z-04 Custom - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Uncommon] [Tier: 0] [Price: 610-670{c}] [Barrel Length: 127mm] [Empty Weight: 524g] [Manufacturer: Alternate Manufacturing] [Materials: Durasteel, Plasteel] [== Alter Z-04 Custom - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 472/600] [Firing Modes: Semi-Automatic] [Rate of Fire: 420 Semi] [Calibre: 9x19mm] [Magazine Size: 23] [Effective Range: 10-200m] [== Alter Z-04 Custom - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Custom - This item has been custom designed and created at a manufacturing level. Fire Rate and Magazine Size are increased by 20%.] [Passive: Antiquity - This item is difficult to maintain, having been created in times long past. Durability is 90% harder to restore and replacement parts are unlikely to be readily available.] ¡®It''s a Tier 0¡­? Maybe because it¡¯s an Antiquity¡­?¡¯ I thought as I scanned the details. ¡®Still, an Uncommon is definitely a nice find, and 600 Credits would do very nicely in my account right about now.¡¯ I could practically feel the weight of those credits in my pocket already, and it was a welcome distraction from the mess we¡¯d just escaped. A moment later, the call connected, and Vega''s slightly concerned voice echoed in our heads. "Jade? What¡¯s going on? You okay? Why are you calling me?" Hearing that genuine worry in his voice, despite his usual sleek and ruthless demeanour, was oddly heart-warming. It was a side of him I hadn¡¯t really seen before, even though I knew it had to be there, considering how he looked out for Jade and her sisters. Jade glanced at me, uncertain, and I gave her a nod to go ahead¡ªthough there was an unspoken warning in my gaze. It was something I probably wouldn¡¯t have noticed before, but now, with my newly downloaded Skills, I realised that just by being here, I was exerting a subtle pressure. My presence alone was enough to keep certain things unsaid, whether I explicitly told her to or not. "Olivia, Opal," Jade said, her voice carrying a coded message as she looked nervously in my direction. I couldn¡¯t be certain what it meant, but based on her behaviour, I was about 90% sure it wouldn¡¯t cause any problems for me. Before Vega could respond, Jade added quickly, "Ela is also on this call; she asked me to call you. I¡¯m not sure what¡ª" "Hello, Vega," I cut in smoothly, taking control of the conversation. This setup was exactly why I had asked Jade to make the call, despite having Vega¡¯s contact ID myself. I wanted to catch him off-guard and apply a bit of pressure¡ªsomething my newfound [Intimidation] skills suggested might give me the upper hand. By speaking through Jade, I was subtly implying a threat: If I wasn¡¯t satisfied with how things went, Jade might bear the brunt of my displeasure. Of course, I had no intention of actually doing that, but they didn¡¯t know that. ¡°Ela,¡± Vega¡¯s voice returned, the warmth and concern vanishing in an instant, replaced by that smooth, guarded tone I¡¯d come to expect from him. That charisma-laden facade he always wore when dealing with me, the kind that set off alarms from the first moment we¡¯d met. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± The subtle shift in his voice made it clear that he wasn¡¯t thrilled about being put on the spot like this, but that was just fine by me. [Intimidation] wasn¡¯t about keeping things pleasant¡ªit was about tilting the power balance in your favour, and right now, I had no problem making Vega squirm a little. ¡°Just wrapped up my job on the 38th. Your girl, Jade, was a real asset out there,¡± I started, keeping my tone casual but letting just enough of an edge creep in. ¡°But we did have a little run-in with a ¡®welcoming committee.¡¯ Funny coincidence, don¡¯t you think? Any chance you¡¯ve got some insight on that?¡± Jade¡¯s eyes went wide, the insinuation hitting her hard. She knew exactly what I was implying, and while I didn¡¯t truly believe Vega or Jade had set me up, I wasn¡¯t above using the all-too-inconvenient timing of those Golden Phoenix enforcers to nudge things in my favour. It was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up¡ªusing the appearance of betrayal to keep Vega on the back foot. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, I was gauging every little reaction. While I was almost certain it truly was all just bad luck on our part¡ªrookie enforcers showing up at the worst possible time¡ªit was all about what I could make them believe. Jade had been blindsided, and from what I could tell, hadn¡¯t exactly had a backup plan either, which only reinforced the idea that this wasn¡¯t an orchestrated ambush. Still, pushing this angle gave me leverage. Whether they¡¯d actually betrayed me or not, I was positioning myself as the wronged party¡ªthe one who needed compensation, or at the very least, a show of good faith. ¡°I do not, as a matter of fact,¡± Vega shot back, his tone laced with irritation. He clearly wasn¡¯t a fan of being put on the defensive. ¡°Got any more intel you can share? I could dig around, see if anything shakes loose.¡± ¡°Leader¡¯s name was Damien Valir. He had a group of rookie enforcers tagging along when we crossed paths. Tried to de-escalate, but things got... messy,¡± I said, keeping my voice as flat as possible, even though the memories of the fight were still fresh, the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. ¡°They¡¯ve got a few casualties on their side now. All Golden Phoenix.¡± Vega was about to jump in again, but [Intimidation] nudged me to keep control of the narrative. ¡°Jade held her own during the scuffle,¡± I added, glancing at her. ¡°She could use a little more group fight training, but she didn¡¯t fold when it counted. There¡¯s potential there.¡± To my surprise, Jade looked almost pleased, like I¡¯d handed her the biggest compliment ever, despite my lukewarm assessment. Not exactly the reaction I¡¯d expected, but I¡¯d take it. Vega, on the other hand, stayed quiet, probably running scenarios in his head, figuring out how to spin this mess. Finally, he spoke up, voice measured. ¡°Damien Valir... that name¡¯s going to be a headache, mostly because of his mother.¡± ¡®Damnit! It¡¯s a mommy¡¯s boy, not a daddy¡¯s!¡¯ I lamented internally at my earlier misread. ¡°Carinola Valir, Senior Enforcer in the Golden Phoenix,¡± Vega continued, sounding like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. ¡°She¡¯s not going to be happy about her son getting shown up. It¡¯s manageable, but it could cause ripples. She¡¯ll probably kick up a fuss...¡± ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s going to need to get him a new arm too,¡± I said, trying to keep the smugness out of my voice. ¡°Things had to be¡­ disarmed. But he¡¯s alive, if that¡¯s any consolation.¡± Jade¡¯s eyes flicked to me, her expression a mix of disbelief and something I couldn¡¯t quite place. Vega, though, was dead silent¡ªprobably not a fan of my wordplay. Not that I blamed him; I was enjoying the gallows humour more than anyone else. ¡°You... cut off Damien Valir¡¯s arm?¡± Vega finally asked, his voice tinged with something between disbelief and exasperation. ¡°Yep,¡± I confirmed, keeping it casual. ¡°He pulled a gun, so I took it¡ªand the rest of his forearm.¡± Vega let out a long, audible sigh. A brief moment of silence stretched out afterwards as the elevator continued its slow descent, bringing us closer to the 16th floor, which would naturally signal the end of this conversation. For once, I was glad these non-restricted elevators were so sluggish. ¡°I kept the gun; tossed the arm, though,¡± I finally said, steering the conversation toward the real reason I¡¯d started this whole exchange in the first place. ¡°Figured the Clawed Beasts might be interested? Junior Enforcer Squad leader¡¯s gun¡ªson of Carinola Valir, no less. Sounds like y¡¯all have some history there, if you already knew about her.¡± ¡°You want to sell us the gun?¡± Vega responded, his tone sharp with a brief hint of disbelief. Jade looked just as taken aback, her confusion morphing into a flicker of fear even that I really couldn¡¯t place or make sense of. ¡°Yeah. Makes the most sense, right? Rival gangs, a firearm that¡¯s likely already registered in the megabuilding... Plus, it¡¯s not a bad piece of hardware on its own,¡± I pressed on, launching into my sales pitch. ¡°It¡¯s an Alter Z-04 Custom. Modified magazine, tweaked firing mechanism for an increased rate of fire. Bit of an antiquity, but that just makes it easier to re-register on a new licence¡ªlike any other pre-war gun. Condition¡¯s pretty good too.¡± Jade¡¯s eyes widened at my detailed breakdown, making me feel more than a little smug¡ª[Appraisal] was an absolute cheat, and I loved it. Vega¡¯s voice came back, slower and more measured this time, ¡°You¡¯re offering to sell us a pre-war era gun that¡¯s already registered in the Megabuilding...?¡± I could understand his scepticism. Getting your hands on a firearm inside a megabuilding was anything but easy. Licences were ridiculously expensive, and even once you had one, getting a gun approved for use inside the building was a whole other ordeal. The building owners couldn¡¯t just let someone stroll around with a T6 Particle Cannon, risking the entire structure coming down. Approval wasn¡¯t just about the gun¡¯s capabilities¡ªit was also about politics, connections, and a whole lot of credits to grease the right palms. Pre-war guns, however, were a bit of a loophole. They almost never packed enough punch to be considered ¡°high-risk.¡± Most were designed for single-target engagements, making them easier to get whitelisted. So this weapon, being a pre-war piece already registered and whitelisted for use, was a rare and valuable find for any gang operating inside the building¡ªone of the main reasons I had no real choice but to offload it. It would probably be just as popular with Operators, but I didn¡¯t have the right contacts for that yet. The Clawed Beasts were my best bet. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly what I said. So, do you want it or not, Vega? We¡¯re almost at our destination here,¡± I replied, letting a bit of Edge-induced irritation seep into my voice. ¡°Ahh, yes. Definitely interested,¡± Vega shot back almost instantly, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he likely sifted through his options, trying to figure out what kind of offer he could make. ¡°You got a price in mind already?¡± [Negotiation] lit up in my mind like a neon sign, signalling that this was its moment to shine. ¡°1,000 creds,¡± I said, not missing a beat. ¡°Half up front, half when Jade delivers the weapon.¡± I let the combined weight of [Negotiation] and [Intimidation] carry the demand, my voice cool and unwavering. I barely had to think about it¡ªjust let the System do its thing, trusting its knowledge to handle the heavy lifting. ¡°That¡¯s a steep ask, and you know it, Ela,¡± Vega replied, his tone tinged with a mix of admonishment and something like enthusiasm. The guy liked to haggle¡ªthere was a certain spark there that told me he was enjoying this back-and-forth. That was going to be real useful intel later on. ¡°Maybe,¡± I shrugged, knowing full well he couldn¡¯t see it but adding the casual flair anyway. ¡°But it¡¯s not just a gun, which in itself is pretty valuable but also leverage. And leverage against the Golden Phoenix is worth a whole lot more than creds, if you ask me. I¡¯m doing you a favour here, Vega. A rare opportunity to hit them where it hurts without even lifting a finger.¡± I could sense Jade watching me from the corner of her eye, caught somewhere between impressed and worried, but she kept her poker face on, not daring to interrupt. Vega hummed thoughtfully on the other end, the silence dragging just long enough to hint at some deep calculations running through his mind. ¡°800. I¡¯ll send 400 now, and you¡¯ll get the rest on delivery. We both know the gun¡¯s valuable, but it¡¯s not priceless; even considering who it belongs to.¡± A smirk crept onto my face. I had been hoping for somewhere around 600; but Vega was being surprisingly more forthcoming than I had even dared dream of. ¡°950, same terms. You get a clean hit on the Phoenix and an easy whitelist gun. I¡¯m basically giving you a discount out of goodwill¡ªdon¡¯t make me regret it. Consider the eight enforcers down as complimentary, on the house.¡± There was a beat of silence, the only sound the faint hum of the elevator as it descended, the tension hanging thick between us. Finally, Vega¡¯s voice crackled through again, grudging but still holding that shrewd undertone. ¡°Fine. 950. 500 now, 450 on delivery. And I want Jade back intact, weapon included.¡± I caught the unspoken threat there, clear as day¡ªhe was rattled, worried enough about Jade that he was willing to play ball. My earlier [Intimidation] had clearly done its job, putting him in a spot where he couldn¡¯t afford to cut corners on this deal. ¡°Deal. Gun¡¯s going to her now. Pleasure doing business, Vega,¡± I said, feeling a sense of relief as the tension began to ease off my shoulders. The 16th floor was fast approaching, and it looked like this whole mess was finally wrapping up. Keeping my cool, I used the new [Pistols] knowledge and muscle memory download to strip the gun down in record time¡ªmagazine out, safety engaged, chamber cleared. The whole thing was smooth and quick, and it felt damn good knowing I¡¯d pulled it off without fumbling. Jade¡¯s eyes widened as I handed the gun, the mag and the loose bullet over almost haphazardly, her expression caught between awe and disbelief, like I¡¯d just performed some kind of black magic ritual right in front of her. It was a simple manoeuvre, honestly¡ªbasic [Pistols] fundamentals that had been drilled into me with the Skill¡¯s download. But I wasn¡¯t going to lie, it felt pretty badass, and judging by Jade¡¯s reaction, it looked it too. ¡°Likewise,¡± Vega replied, his voice sounding strained, but still managing to maintain that professional edge. Then, his tone dropped, turning icy enough to send a shiver down my spine. ¡°And Ela¡­ Don¡¯t ever drag Jade into actually dangerous shit or we¡¯re going to have a serious problem.¡± The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me and Jade standing in a tense silence as the elevator finally dinged, signalling our arrival on the 16th floor¡­ Chapter 90 - Upgrades Carefully stepping out of the elevator, I scanned the area for any signs of Golden Phoenix members lurking around. Logically, they shouldn¡¯t have been able to find us this quickly, but after everything that had happened, I wasn¡¯t about to take any chances. Satisfied that the coast was clear, I gestured for Jade to follow me. She trailed behind, quieter than usual, her usual spark dimmed under the weight of everything I¡¯d just put her through. I couldn¡¯t exactly blame her¡ªit had been one hell of a day, and I¡¯d definitely pushed things farther than either of us had likely planned. I led us into a nearby alley, tucked away from prying eyes but not too far from the elevators, wanting to get in a few more words before we went our separate ways. Before I could start, my cerebral interface pinged with a welcome notification:
[¡°Vega¡± has transferred {c}500 to your account with the note: ¡°Pleasure doing business.¡±]
Seeing those digits felt like a weight lifted. I was officially richer than I¡¯d ever been in this world¡ªby a long shot¡ªbut there wasn¡¯t exactly time for a victory dance just yet. We stopped near the mouth of the alley, Jade still looking like she was working her way back from the whirlwind we¡¯d just been through. ¡°Thanks for having my back out there,¡± I started, my voice lighter, trying to ease the lingering tension between us. I didn¡¯t want this whole thing to sour our working relationship¡ªor whatever this strange, tentative partnership was. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of me wanted to keep the door open for something that resembled friendship, though I''d never say that out loud. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting things to go sideways like they did, or for it to end in... you know, a total shitshow. But you handled it like a pro, and I seriously appreciate that.¡± I caught the quick flash of disbelief on her face when I mentioned not wanting things to get violent. Given the two levels I¡¯d snagged in [Intimidation] earlier, I could definitely see why she might find that hard to believe. My performance in the alley had been¡­ well, not exactly the behaviour of someone trying to avoid a fight. I¡¯d gone straight from a botched negotiation, that had probably more looked like goading somebody into a fight, to immediately maiming someone in the blink of an eye, and there was no pretending otherwise. My plan to smooth things over was clearly hitting a wall, so I switched tactics and leaned into a more direct approach¡ªsometimes, you¡¯ve just got to give it straight. ¡°You know, I couldn¡¯t help but notice your gear is kinda¡­ lacking. Unless you just didn¡¯t think you¡¯d run into any trouble today?¡± I prodded, hoping to open the conversation without sounding too harsh. Jade didn¡¯t miss a beat, her response immediate and sharper than I expected. ¡°Nope, this is the best I¡¯ve got. I¡¯m not stupid enough to go on any mission without bringing my best stuff; that¡¯s how you get seriously hurt or fucking killed.¡± Her tone had a bite to it, a spark of defiance that I hadn¡¯t quite seen in her earlier, more reserved demeanour. It caught me off guard, but it was exactly the kind of honesty I needed from her. Underneath the snippy tone, though, her words were a goldmine. This was an opportunity. I knew that after settling my debts, I¡¯d still have about 300 credits left¡ªplenty to invest in myself and maybe extend a small olive branch to Jade. If I wanted to keep working with her and maybe build something long-term with the Clawed Beasts, getting her to gear herself up properly was a no-brainer. ¡°Alright, then,¡± I said, letting [Accounting] run the numbers in my head quickly. ¡°Next time we go out, we¡¯re getting you some proper gear. I¡¯ve got a contact who sells quality stuff for cheap¡ªthe same place I got all the gear I¡¯m wearing right now from. And you¡¯ve probably seen how good this stuff is. Bring whatever creds you¡¯ve got, and we¡¯ll sort you out. You heard Vega: If you¡¯re gonna be tagging along on future missions, I can¡¯t risk you getting hurt. I¡¯m not interested in catching heat from him just ¡®cause your stuff¡¯s garbage.¡± My words were blunt, maybe even a little harsh, but I needed Jade to get that this wasn¡¯t about Vega¡¯s threat alone. I couldn¡¯t afford to have her think I was folding just because Vega had rattled my cage. Sure, his warning was still fresh in my mind and I was pretty scared of whatever consequences Vega had access to, but, ultimately, this was about making sure she could keep up and keep herself safe¡ªyes, definitely that. Her eyes widened a bit when I mentioned taking her to my contact, which was exactly the kind of reaction I¡¯d been hoping for. If I could not only get on Jade¡¯s good side but also create a connection between Misha¡¯s Emporium and the Clawed Beasts, it would be a win all around. Plus, Misha deserved more regular customers than just me, and I could keep an eye on how things went. Being able to speak Gryplik meant I could pick up on any subtle hints if something wasn¡¯t sitting right with Misha¡ªeven if she didn¡¯t say it outright. No one was going to mess with her on my watch. ¡°Ehh¡­ O¡ªOkay. Should I¡­ Do we go now, or¡­?¡± Jade asked, her tone a mix of confusion, nerves, and just a touch of excitement. Bingo. ¡°Nah, not right now,¡± I waved her off. ¡°I¡¯ve got to turn in this data-shard that got us into all this mess first. And you need to get that gun to Vega before he flips out thinking you died or something.¡± That got a small chuckle out of her¡ªdidn¡¯t see that coming, but I wasn¡¯t about to complain. ¡°I¡¯ll hit you up when I¡¯ve got my stuff sorted out. Save up some creds till then, maybe borrow some if you can swing a good deal. See you soon, Jade. Stay safe.¡± I realised I was laying the goodbye on way too thick, making things awkward real fast, so I spun on my heel and booked it, walking off at a brisk pace that screamed ¡°totally chill, not awkward at all.¡± Hopefully, Jade would just see it as me trying to be nice and not¡­ whatever this mess was. I couldn¡¯t help but replay the last few moments in my mind, second-guessing every little word. But hey, she did laugh at my Vega joke, right? That had to count for something. Deciding not to spend more time thinking about it, I headed straight for the restricted elevators and made my way up to the 43rd floor, sending a brief message to Mr. Stirling on the way to let him know I was coming to hand in the data-shard. It was finally time to hand in this god-forsaken Task and grab my rewards¡­!
¡°Why is it that every time I send you out for a simple data retrieval, you come back looking like you¡¯ve just survived a horde of scavs¡­?¡± Mr. Stirling asked, holding the door open and motioning for me to come inside. ¡°And judging by that grin on your face, I¡¯m guessing not all of this is yours? You¡¯re not hurt, are you?¡± He nodded toward the same couch I¡¯d crashed on last time, giving me a quick once-over. One of his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he took in my gear. ¡°Not bad¡­ Not bad at all.¡± ¡°Yeah, about that whole blood thing¡ªnone of it¡¯s mine. Didn¡¯t take a scratch,¡± I replied smugly, trying to give him a reassuring thumbs-up. Except I forgot that my arm was heavily bruised, so it ended up being more of a half-hearted thumbs-up and a wince. ¡°Ouch¡­ Right, so I did take a hit on the arm. Didn¡¯t break through the jacket, so it doesn¡¯t really count, but I¡¯m pretty sure the bone¡¯s cracked or something¡ªnot totally sure.¡± Mr. Stirling¡¯s expression shifted from his usual cool, calculating demeanour to something unexpectedly gentle as he stepped closer to inspect my arm. He carefully manoeuvred my jacket off my shoulder, wincing slightly as he caught sight of the bruising that had spread all the way down to my wrist. ¡°Yup, looks like you¡¯ve got a crack in there,¡± he confirmed, his tone almost fatherly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look displaced, but it¡¯s definitely not great. Let¡¯s get that sorted.¡± He moved over to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a sleek-looking med kit, flipping it open with practised ease. From the kit, he grabbed a small vial of something labelled ¡°Nexisyn Gel¡±¡ªa bright, iridescent blue substance that looked more like high-end nail polish than medicine. He loaded it into a sleek applicator that resembled a cross between a syringe and a fancy vape pen, positioning it just above the bruised area on my arm. I was half-inclined to tell him to save it, considering that my Rest Function would take care of the problem in just 8-hours of time, but then again, I couldn¡¯t exactly tell him that. Nor would I be able to hide this level of rapid healing from Jade or Mr. Stirling himself, if I constantly skipped out on stuff like this. ¡°This stuff will help with the pain and speed up the healing,¡± he explained as he injected the gel into my skin, a cool, tingling sensation spreading through my arm. ¡°Now, hold still while I get you bandaged up.¡± As he wrapped my arm tightly in a silver-infused bandage that seemed to mould itself snugly around the injury, he glanced up at me. ¡°So, how¡¯d the mission go? You¡¯re back in one piece, which is always a good start.¡± I nodded and reached into my jacket with my free hand, pulling out the data-shard case and handing it to him. Mr. Stirling¡¯s eyes lit up momentarily as he took it, carefully setting it on the table behind him without even looking at it twice¡ªhis priority was clearly getting me patched up first. ¡°It was a bit of a ride,¡± I started, trying to keep the explanation as straightforward as possible. ¡°Retrieval was easy enough, just like you said it would be. I brought backup along, just in case. But on our way out, we ran into some Golden Phoenix enforcers¡ªbad timing on our part, really. Or rather; theirs.¡± Mr. Stirling paused mid-bandage, his expression darkening slightly. ¡°Enforcers? They weren¡¯t supposed to be around the store often...¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I honestly don¡¯t know,¡± I continued, watching as he resumed securing my arm. ¡°Jade and I had to duck into the store to lose them. I used the code you gave me to get the shopkeep to help us out. We used the shooting range in the back to buy some time.¡± I tried to gloss over the shooting range part quickly, but I could feel his gaze sharpen, a knowing look passing over his face. He didn¡¯t call me out directly, just gave a slight shake of his head, as if he¡¯d seen this story play out a hundred times before. ¡°Using a shooting range to lay low, huh¡­? Riiight, then¡­ Hope you didn¡¯t run up too much of a tab.¡± I shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. ¡°Didn¡¯t break anything if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about. And we didn¡¯t steal anything either.¡± ¡°Right, right,¡± he muttered, his tone heavy with amusement as he finished taping down the last bit of bandage. ¡°And the enforcers?¡± ¡°Yeah, about that,¡± I said, exhaling deeply. ¡°We managed to slip out the back, but they found us again in the alley. Things got messy. Had to fight our way out¡ªended up taking out most of their crew before we could get away. Didn¡¯t kill anyone, but things got¡­ Well, bloody.¡± I gestured towards my general outfit that was positively covered in blood splatters. Mr. Stirling finished his work, giving my arm a final once-over before stepping back, arms crossed and brow furrowed. ¡°You¡¯re an absolute fucking magnet for trouble, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Hey, trouble found me first. And I warned them!¡± I shot back with a grin, flexing my newly bandaged arm experimentally. The Nexisyn Gel was already working wonders, the pain dulled down to a manageable throb. ¡°Yeah, yeah, that¡¯s what everyone says,¡± Mr. Stirling shot back, waving me off dismissively as he tucked his medkit back into its cabinet. He turned his attention to the data-shard case, picking it up with a practised ease and giving it a once-over, his eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and calculation. He removed the shard from its case and slotted it in after a brief, secondary inspection and took a seat on his cushioned chair across the coffee table from me. I couldn¡¯t deny that I was absolutely dying to know what kind of secrets were hidden in all these shards I¡¯d been hauling for him. But I also knew better than to let that curiosity get the better of me. Corporate espionage on this level was way above my pay grade, and I had zero interest in getting tangled up in that mess beyond playing the role of the courier. The last thing I needed was to poke my nose where it didn¡¯t belong and end up on someone¡¯s hit list, especially considering how many dangerous lines I was already treading. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. As I sat there, waiting for Mr. Stirling to wrap up his evaluation of the data-shard, I figured I might as well use the downtime productively¡ªespecially since I hadn¡¯t been paid yet, and I still wanted to pick his brain for some advice. I quickly dove into the System notifications that were still pending in the back of my mind.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Intimidation] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
¡®That¡¯s a lot of experience for a quick chat with Vega,¡¯ I mused, feeling more than a little surprised by the numbers. Not that I was about to complain about some extra progress. The sheer amount of experience I¡¯d racked up in the past couple of hours was kind of mind-blowing, and it left me wondering what exactly was fueling these gains. I¡¯d always known the System rewarded taking risks, but I hadn¡¯t quite realised the sheer extent of that reward. I¡¯d expected maybe a little bump¡ªlike the 50% boost you¡¯d get with a [Mentor Bonus]¡ªbut this was on a whole other level. Even with that kind of bonus, I wouldn¡¯t have earned anywhere near this much experience. ¡®The risk-reward system¡¯s way more generous than I thought¡­ and it¡¯s clearly dropping the experience thresholds,¡¯ I thought, piecing together the data from earlier. The amount of experience I¡¯d pulled from the street brawl was leagues ahead of what I¡¯d get from a session at Miss K¡¯s dojo, and that realisation felt like a game-changer. My [Accounting] Skill, usually just sitting on the bench, was proving itself pretty useful for sorting all the numbers without me even needing to try¡ªanother unexpected perk of today¡¯s chaos. With that analysis stashed away for now, I figured the key takeaway was simple: Taking risks was the way to fast-track experience gains. There wasn¡¯t much else I could do with that info just yet, but it was good to have that firmly planted in my mind for the future. Turning my attention back to the outstanding System downloads that I¡¯d put off during the elevator ride¡ª[Pistols], [CQC], [First-Aid], and [Martial Arts]¡ªI decided it was time to knock those out while I had the chance. A quick glance at Mr. Stirling told me he was still deep in his own world with the data-shard, so I queued up the easier downloads first, starting with [CQC] and [First-Aid]. As I accepted the download for [CQC], I felt the familiar, slightly unnerving rush of data flooding into my brain. My senses sharpened as the System carved new pathways into my mind, embedding the fundamentals of close-quarters combat. It was like watching a rapid-fire tutorial in my head¡ªflashes of movements, grips, and techniques playing out in a dizzying montage. The new level of [CQC] was all about the essentials, further refining them from the previous one: Unarmed strikes, basic grapples, and understanding the leverage you could gain with even the most rudimentary and commonly used weapons. I could feel the slight shift in my posture as the muscle memory settled in, subtly correcting my general stance and positioning that would allow me to react faster to unexpected attacks¡ªsmall tweaks that I hadn¡¯t even realised were wrong before. I also now knew how to keep my centre of gravity low without unbalancing myself, and angle my body to minimise openings when facing multiple enemies at once¡ªthat one would have been really useful to know earlier today, System! It was like having a basic cheat sheet for survival in a brawl, but it went beyond just fists and feet as well. The knowledge also introduced how knives, bats, and other close-combat weapons could alter the flow of a fight. I could instinctively gauge the reach advantage of a bat, the dangers of a knife, and the split-second decision-making needed when firearms came into the mix at point-blank range. It didn¡¯t make me a pro by any means, but the newfound awareness of how these weapons could change the dynamics of a skirmish was beyond enlightening and something I was regretting not having had access to earlier today. The knowledge and muscle memory would have definitely made a big difference in the altercation with the enforcers; maybe even to the point that I wouldn¡¯t have gotten hurt at all. Next came the download for [First-Aid], bumping me up to Level 2. This one hit different¡ªless brutal overall, but no less intense. My mind buzzed with a flurry of medical information, practical techniques that went beyond the absolute basics. It wasn¡¯t just bandaging a wound anymore or assessing somebody for their overall state; it was about doing it quickly and efficiently, even under the worst of conditions. I could feel the knowledge embedding itself in real-time¡ªapplying a tourniquet without cutting off too much circulation, assessing a wound to determine if it needed sutures, or knowing when and how to apply a clotting agent to an otherwise lethal wound. My hands tingled with phantom sensations, practising the techniques that would keep someone from bleeding out before real help could arrive. I could practically feel the difference in tension when applying pressure to a wound versus when splinting a broken limb. The System fed me scenarios on how to stabilise a fracture with whatever materials were at hand, how to quickly identify and manage shock, and even the proper way to move an injured person without making their condition worse. It was like cramming a primer on battlefield medicine into my brain in a matter of seconds, and the rush of knowledge left my head buzzing. I took a deep, shaky breath, letting all that new info and muscle memory settle like dust after a storm. There was always this odd, unsettling feeling after a System download, like my brain and muscles were rewired on the fly to react to experiences I hadn¡¯t actually lived through. It was trippy, sure, but also kind of amazing¡ªand definitely addicting! There were probably ethical debates to be had about this kind of instant learning¡ªstuff philosophers would argue over for days, like the whole ¡°nature vs. nurture¡± argument dialled up to eleven. But lucky for me, I wasn¡¯t exactly the philosophical type. I didn¡¯t have time to ponder the existential implications of becoming a pseudo-expert overnight either, considering the amount of stuff that was seemingly brewing just beyond the horizon of my very limited reach in this world so far. I loved my System shortcuts, and there was no way I¡¯d turn down that kind of edge, no matter how weird it felt at times. I glanced over at Mr. Stirling, still deep in his analysis of the shard I¡¯d handed over. He was frowning at something outside of my view, absorbed in whatever intel was scrolling by, which meant I had a little more time to deal with the rest of my System business. Perfect. Time to give [Pistols] and [Martial Arts] the upgrades they deserved. The [Pistols] download came first and this time it wasn¡¯t just the basics. It dove deeper than the first-level one, smoothing out the rough edges of my earlier experience at the shooting range. I felt my shooting stance adjust subtly as if my body knew exactly how to distribute my weight to absorb recoil more efficiently and how to tighten my grip just right, locking the gun in place without losing control. Even reloading was something that I instinctively knew had just become smoother, more natural, whether I was standing still or on the move. It wasn¡¯t just about handling a gun safely anymore; it was about using it with purpose and efficiency in real-world situations. The kind of muscle memory that would make me a lot more dangerous the next time I found myself with a gun in hand¡ªwhenever that next time would be. But then came the [Martial Arts] download, and it was clear right away that I probably should¡¯ve waited until I was alone for this one. The surge of information and muscle memory downright slammed into me, and I felt my muscles instantly beginning to twitch and spasm, like they were being reprogrammed on the fly by a mad scientist¡¯s contraption¡ªwhich, in a way, I guess they literally were. Going from Level 2 to Level 3 was no joke, and I made a mental note to never make this mistake again when upgrading from pre-mastery to beginner-mastery. Skills in Neon Dragons all had a pretty similar structure: Levels 0-2 covered the absolute basics, like what you''d get in the first couple of months in a high school or college course on the topic. But hitting Level 3? That was a whole different game. Level 3 marked the shift into ¡°beginner-mastery¡±¡ªwhere you went from fumbling novice to someone who could at least hold their own. It was like completing that course or a year¡¯s worth of focused training, putting you solidly in the ¡°competent¡± category, though still miles away from being considered professional. For [Martial Arts], that meant the System was cramming an entire year of dojo-level training into my brain and muscles in just a few seconds. Sure, it wasn¡¯t anywhere near the level of intensity or precision that Miss K would¡¯ve drilled into me, but the sheer amount of knowledge and muscle memory being forced into my body was no joke. Flashes of techniques, stances, and strategies whizzed past my mind¡¯s eye. I learned how to harness the right kinetic chain when landing a punch, furthering the knowledge and muscle memory I had gathered myself in Miss K¡¯s dojo, how to pivot my hips for maximum force in a kick, and the delicate balance shifts needed to stay grounded during an opponent¡¯s counter. It wasn¡¯t just about throwing hands either; it was about reading a fight like a story, spotting openings I wouldn¡¯t have noticed before, and knowing exactly when and where to disrupt an opponent¡¯s rhythm to turn the tables. Even some select techniques from a wide range of martial arts styles were covered, giving me a very basic but versatile toolkit that I could adapt to whatever fight I found myself in next. By the time it was over, I was left panting, my muscles still spasming as they adjusted to the flood of new patterns. I secretly hoped Mr. Stirling had been too absorbed in his work to notice me essentially seizing up on his couch, but the fact that he was standing in front of me with a seriously concerned look on his face was very subtly hinting towards the fact that that was not, in-fact, the case. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I managed to get out between shaky breaths, my voice not doing me any favours in convincing him. ¡°Seriously, I¡¯m fine! No need to worry!¡± ¡°Whatever the fuck that was, it is definitely not fine, Sera,¡± Mr. Stirling shot back, his tone shifting firmly into the ¡°don¡¯t even think about arguing¡± territory. ¡°Did you get hit in the head during that fight with the enforcers? You sure it¡¯s just your arm that¡¯s busted?¡± He leaned closer, his fingers carefully feeling around the back of my head, down to my neck where my cerebral link was embedded. ¡°I¡¯m checking your link to make sure it didn¡¯t get damaged. That shit just now looked like a full-on seizure.¡± I had two choices: Let him do his thing and inspect the link, which should be fine aside from some leftover netrunning burnout, or try to talk my way out of it. But with my brain feeling like it had been put through a blender and the room still doing a slow spin, I knew my silver tongue wasn¡¯t about to bail me out this time. Resigning myself to the less troublesome option, I sat up straighter, though it felt like trying to balance on a tightrope, and angled my head slightly to give Mr. Stirling better access. His hands carefully ran over the metal implant, pressing and prodding for any signs of external damage. Satisfied, he let out a low grumble, grabbed a data pad from the table, and yanked a link cable from its port. ¡°I¡¯m running some basic diagnostics. Don¡¯t freak out.¡± His tone made it clear this wasn¡¯t a request¡ªit was happening whether I liked it or not. ¡®Great job, Sera, you absolute fucking blank,¡¯ I berated myself internally, facepalming in my mind. ¡®New rule: No more accepting downloads unless you¡¯re alone at home. You can¡¯t keep pulling this shit around people and think it¡¯ll just be fine.¡¯ While Mr. Stirling focused on his diagnostics, I figured I might as well make the most of the downtime. I pulled up the Perk options for [Martial Arts], ready to dig into the next level of perks now that I was stuck in my makeshift doctor¡¯s office. Might as well be productive while getting a free check-up, right?
[Immovable Defense] (Martial Arts) You Shall Not Pass! ¡ª Unlock the combined defensive stances of Aikido, Judo, Wing Chun, and Karate. Absorb and redirect the energy of incoming melee attacks and grapples, making you an immovable force on the battlefield. Your stance turns an enemy''s aggression into controlled power, resisting all attempts to be moved or unbalanced. [Ruthless Offense] (Martial Arts) Power Overwhelming! ¡ª Master the aggressive stances of Kung Fu, Muay Thai, and Kickboxing to unleash a relentless barrage of strikes and kicks. Each hit naturally flows into the next, creating a seamless offensive rhythm that overwhelms enemies, forcing them to trade blows or face relentless pressure. [Shadow Assault] (Martial Arts) Nin-Nin! ¡ª Combine the precision stances of Ninjutsu, Krav Maga, and Kenpo to execute surprise attacks with lethal accuracy. Your strikes are executed with deadly efficiency, making them far harder for enemies to evade or block, allowing you to strike from the shadows with unparalleled effectiveness. [Brutal Mobility] (Martial Arts) Stand Still for Just One Goddamn Second! ¡ª Blend the highly dynamic movements of Capoeira with the ruthless efficiency of Silat. This perk enables a combat style that is fluid and unpredictable, using constant movement to keep enemies off balance while delivering brutal, pragmatic strikes that disrupt and dismantle foes on the move. [Elemental Balance] (Martial Arts) Tranquil as a Silent Lake. ¡ª Master the harmonious techniques of Tai Chi, Aikido, Zen Meditation, and Yoga, granting you perfect adaptability to any environment. Whether on narrow ledges, beneath a raging waterfall, or amidst an earthquake, maintain absolute balance and control, allowing you to move with precision no matter the terrain or environmental conditions.
I had to fight the urge to whistle aloud at the options that popped up, because the last thing I needed was to give Mr. Stirling another reason to think my brain was scrambled beyond repair. ¡®This is¡­ absolutely bonkers. I don¡¯t just get access to one martial art, but multiple? And they¡¯re all mashed together into some kind of hybrid style? That seems¡­ excessive, right?¡¯ I thought, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. It felt too good to be true. There was no way they¡¯d actually hand over the full depth of these martial arts¡ªit would be like cramming decades of training, knowledge, and experience into my brain in one go. This was a T1 Perk, after all¡ªthe lowest Tier. Odds were, I¡¯d just be getting select techniques or principles from each one, not the full package. But still, the sheer potential of what was on the table had me buzzing. I barely even knew what most of these styles entailed beyond the basics everyone picks up from movies and pop culture, but the possibilities were still mind-blowing. ¡®I¡¯m gonna need Miss K¡¯s input on this,¡¯ I quickly realised, shelving the Perk selection for later. I wasn¡¯t about to make any decisions without a little guidance from the one person who not only actually knew what she was doing in that regard, but who was also semi-aware of the System inside my head. She was quite literally the perfect person to ask about this. Between the Perks and the Skill Point I¡¯d be scoring once Mr. Stirling signed off on my Task, I was stacking up some serious upgrades today. My skill set was getting a whole new glow-up, and I hadn¡¯t even fully cashed in yet¡­ Chapter 91 - Expert Advice ¡°Good news is, the analysis says you¡¯re not, in fact, having some kind of serious brain malfunction,¡± Mr. Stirling finally announced, pulling the data-link cable from my neck. ¡°There is some indication of netrunning burnout on the chip, however, but since there¡¯s no scarring around it, I¡¯m guessing it wasn¡¯t that bad¡­?¡± He trailed off, fishing for details. ¡°Manageable,¡± I replied with a shrug, keeping it vague. I wasn¡¯t about to try bluffing him any more than necessary, especially not in my current state. A beat of awkward silence hung between us before Mr. Stirling sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Alright, fine. Not my business to dig, I guess¡ªwasn¡¯t in the contract for me to play doctor. But I gotta ask¡­ What the fuck was that just now, then? Any ideas? The analysis says you¡¯re fine¡ªactually... Better than fine. Like, you¡¯re ridiculously healthy. Your bio-signs are¡­ Well, they¡¯re downright perfect. Which I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s even possible.¡± He leaned back against the coffee table, striking a familiar pose that reminded me of the last time he¡¯d patched me up. There was a definite curiosity in his tone, a kind of probing that I couldn¡¯t let go any further. The last thing I needed was Mr. Stirling digging too deep and stumbling onto things that were best left under wraps. There was only one way to get him off my back, and it involved playing the one card I knew would work with him: Valeria. ¡°I can¡¯t talk about that¡­¡± I said, meeting his gaze head-on, my expression deliberately conflicted, as if I wanted to spill but couldn¡¯t. I was banking on his previous hesitancy about crossing any lines with Valeria and praying he¡¯d back off. I was basically pulling the ¡°my mom will kill us both if I say anything¡± card, and I hoped it was enough to keep his questions at bay. Our eyes locked for a few tense moments before Mr. Stirling let out a deep, resigned sigh. ¡®That¡¯s a Bingo!¡¯ I thought, inwardly celebrating as he seemed to finally back off. ¡°I see,¡± he muttered with a knowing nod, but I caught the faint grumble under his breath as he mumbled to himself, ¡°That irritating woman really doesn¡¯t know where to draw the line, huh? Her own daughter¡­ and to this degree¡­?¡± He shook his head, as if trying to clear whatever thoughts were running through his mind, then turned his attention back to me. ¡°You never mentioned you were a runner. You¡¯ve got a lot of interests for someone your age¡­ You any good at it?¡± That question threw me for a loop¡ªI hadn¡¯t expected the conversation to pivot towards netrunning. But hey, anything was better than having to explain why my bio-markers were as pristine as a pre-war relic¡¯s whitelisting privileges. Something even the top-tier corpos were desperately trying to figure out how to achieve for their own survival, with all their longevity projects and anti-decay nonsense. ¡°Not yet,¡± I said, keeping it real. I didn¡¯t want to oversell my skills and get roped into some high-stakes Task that required an experienced netrunner when, in reality, I was still fumbling my way through the basics. ¡°But I¡¯m working on it.¡± He nodded thoughtfully, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head, recalibrating how he viewed me. Runners weren¡¯t exactly a dime a dozen; the risk of netrunning burnout was a hard pill to swallow, even in a world full of body mods and life-extending tech. It was one of the very few things that a skilled Ripper¡¯s or Slicer¡¯s scalpels couldn¡¯t fix. As a result, most people, and especially those with something to lose, steered clear of Cyberspace altogether, leaving that particular brand of chaos to the professionals. But knowing that I was dipping my toes in those waters seemed to shift something in his perception¡ªmaybe opening a door, or at least cracking it slightly, to the idea that I could be more than just a courier in the future. ¡°Listen, Sera,¡± Mr. Stirling began, his voice shifting back to its usual no-nonsense tone. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we wrap up this whole debt repayment thing. The last two times I sent you out, you either got hurt or tangled up in a situation that could¡¯ve ended with you dead in a ditch somewhere. Now, don¡¯t get me wrong¡ªI don¡¯t really care about what happens to kids like you, but I can¡¯t afford to deal with your mother¡¯s wrath if something goes sideways. You¡¯ve brought me plenty of valuable data, and I can make do with what I¡¯ve got. So let¡¯s just call it even, and you can go back to your life while I go back to not worrying about how to handle that woman¡¯s complaints, alright?¡± Well, damn. I did not see that coming. I hadn¡¯t expected Mr. Stirling to let me off the hook so soon, but his logic tracked perfectly. From his perspective, I¡¯d become more of a liability than a reliable asset¡ªand I couldn¡¯t exactly blame him for it either. And if what he said about Valeria¡¯s potential reaction was true, I was putting him in an even tighter spot with my screw-ups. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why he¡¯d want to cut ties sooner rather than later. But there was one glaring problem with his offer: ¡®My Task rewards¡­! If Mr. Stirling stops giving me Tasks, I won¡¯t be able to complete the major Task for the General Perk Point, and I¡¯d lose out on all that juicy experience too!¡¯ Yeah, sure, thinking about quest rewards in a moment like this might seem a bit self-centred, but they were the only reason I¡¯d agreed to this whole debt repayment mess in the first place¡ªwell, that and Valeria¡¯s not-so-gentle push. Now that I was just one more job away from the big payout, there was no way in hell I was letting him pull the plug. ¡°I can¡¯t agree to that, Mr. Stirling,¡± I said, making sure my voice was as confident as I could muster, channelling a decent chunk of my Ego into it. I needed him to see that I wasn¡¯t backing down. He looked a bit thrown by my refusal but stayed quiet, which I took as a good sign. ¡°My mother,¡± I started, leaning into what I knew could hit home for him, ¡°would absolutely want to know why the repayment stopped early. Considering how this debt came to be in the first place, I doubt she¡¯d just roll over and accept some ¡®good-faith¡¯ explanation. And honestly? I wouldn¡¯t exactly blame her. You were the one who forced this debt onto her¡ªand as a result, me¡ªso I¡¯d rather finish this off properly than leave any loose ends that could bite me again later. Last thing I want is someone deciding to dig up this ¡®final payment¡¯ down the line and put me in a tight spot.¡± My words came out harsher than I¡¯d planned, a little more pointed, but they were the truth. Mr. Stirling had started this whole circus by calling in a debt that should¡¯ve been settled over a bottle of wine back in my old life, and now he was trying to strip me of my hard-earned Task rewards? No way in hell. Not after all the blood, sweat, and near-death scrapes I¡¯d gone through just to get this far. I wasn¡¯t about to let Mr. Stirling wipe his hands clean without me getting what I¡¯d earned. Honestly, I even surprised myself with how confident I was in this conversation. The old me? I would¡¯ve folded like a cheap lawn chair in a situation like this. But now? Now I was holding my ground for maybe the first time ever as Sera and not ¡°Ela¡±, and it felt good¡ªreally good. It was probably a mix of my Ego and Edge working overtime, with a side of all the stuff I¡¯d gone through in this new world. Old-world Sera was fading fast, her thoughts and behaviours getting buried under the weight of everything I¡¯d faced here. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I wasn¡¯t exactly sure of, but I didn¡¯t have time to ponder it right now. I was too busy making sure I got what I was fucking owed. Mr. Stirling crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he considered my words. He didn¡¯t look happy, but there was a begrudging acknowledgment in his eyes that I was probably right. ¡°You do have a point. I did cause this whole issue myself, like you said. I can¡¯t exactly blame you for hesitating on accepting my ¡°good-faith¡± solution here¡­,¡± he admitted, though his tone was still laced with reluctance. ¡°I don¡¯t like the level of danger I¡¯ve been putting you through, Sera. It¡¯s not worth the heat it brings if something goes wrong. And this next data collection¡­ it¡¯s not going to be easy. Far from it¡­¡± He paused, giving me a look that was all business¡ªcalculating, cold, and a bit hesitant. ¡°In fact, it¡¯s a lot more involved than the previous ones. Riskier, too. I was considering ending the debt collection early because, based on this last one¡¯s data you just brought me¡­ This next one¡¯s outside the megabuilding.¡± My heart sank a little at that. Leaving the megabuilding wasn¡¯t just a step outside my comfort zone¡ªit was like jumping off a cliff into uncharted waters. I had, of course, known that one day I¡¯d have to leave the safety of Delta¡¯s walls, but I¡¯d always imagined I¡¯d be a lot more prepared for it. The outside was a whole different beast, filled with scavs, rogue gangers, and the kind of hazards that made my recent scraps look like playground fights. I caught myself second-guessing for a split second, my mind racing with the potential dangers: Lack of familiarity, no guarantee of safety like I had in the restricted elevators or on the 43rd floor, and having to contend with whatever hellscape Neo Avalis had to throw at me. But then the thought of the Major Task rewards flashed through my mind¡ªthe experience, the Perk Point... I really couldn¡¯t afford to let this kind of reward slip through my fingers; not this early on. Maybe not ever. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. But at the same time¡­ if I was already going to take on something this dangerous, I needed to make sure it really was worth the risk. ¡°How about this,¡± I proposed, leaning forward slightly. ¡°You pay me more for the last data collection¡ªa lot more. That way, you¡¯ll have an excuse to give Valeria if something does happen to go wrong. You can say you gave me a full rundown on the dangers, offered hazard pay, and I simply refused to back off regardless. It gives you a bit more wiggle room for any potential aftermath, and I get compensated for the increased risk.¡± Mr. Stirling eyed me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. ¡°You¡¯re really not going to back down, are you?¡± ¡°No,¡± I replied firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. ¡°I can¡¯t afford that.¡± Mr. Stirling looked at me intently, clearly mulling over the proposal. It was obvious he didn¡¯t like it¡ªsending me out there wasn¡¯t his first choice, or even his last, but I could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the options. Finally, he let out a long, resigned sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose like I¡¯d just handed him the biggest headache of his life. ¡°Alright, Sera, here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do: I¡¯ll ask around, see if I can get anyone else to handle this job. And before you interrupt,¡± he added, raising a finger to cut off the protest that was halfway out of my mouth, ¡°let me finish. If I can¡¯t find anyone else, you¡¯ll go and get that shard for me, hazard pay included. We¡¯ll ultimately go with your plan as the last-resort, as much as I hate the idea of risking this.¡± He paused, the room falling into a heavy silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Then, with a nod more to himself than to me, he continued. ¡°These data shards are unexpectedly critical, Sera. I didn¡¯t think much of the intel at first, which is why I even decided to let you go and collect them originally, but with each shard you¡¯ve brought me, things have started to escalate in ways I didn¡¯t foresee and definitely don¡¯t like. With how many of my contacts are tied up in this corpo-chaos brewing in Neo Avalis, I¡¯ve had no choice but to rely on you so far. Finding reliable Operators for corporate espionage work isn¡¯t exactly easy.¡± He leaned forward, his tone growing more serious. ¡°Know that this isn¡¯t something I¡¯m doing because I enjoy sending you out there. I do it because, right now, you¡¯re the only one available that I trust to get the job done adequately enough. I appreciate the level of honesty and effort you¡¯ve put into this, and I¡¯ll make sure that irritating woman hears about it when we¡¯re all done. You¡¯re helping more than just me here too¡ªthese shards are crucial for EtherLabs, as it turns out, and getting them to me on time is making a bigger difference than you probably realise. So don¡¯t take it personally when I say that I genuinely hope I find someone else to take on this last collection. I mean that.¡± He gave me a look that was both grudgingly respectful and tinged with a bit of worry. ¡°You¡¯ve been more of an asset than I expected when you first showed up at my door, Sera. Missteps and all.¡± His words hung in the air, a mix of caution and reluctant praise that I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to respond to. I felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up¡ªpride that he unexpectedly saw me as more than just a debt-collection pawn, but also a sharp pang of anxiety knowing that even Mr. Stirling, who didn¡¯t exactly strike me as being the sentimental type, was seriously worried about this next task. It was weirdly validating, hearing him acknowledge that I wasn¡¯t just some screw-up who had gotten lucky so far. But it also drove home just how out of my depth I really was. I didn¡¯t even really know what I had been transporting around, but now I suddenly learned that it had proven to be fairly valuable; maybe even critical intel? Every task had felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of spikes without really knowing whether the rope could even carry me, but this next one¡­ leaving the megabuilding? It was like someone was setting the damn rope on fire while I was still halfway across! I wanted to say something snarky to lighten the mood¡ªmaybe joke about how I wasn¡¯t going to let a few rookie mistakes keep me from being the best damn courier in Neo Avalis. But the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just nodded, swallowing the nerves that threatened to surface. ¡°Thanks, Mr. Stirling,¡± I ultimately managed, keeping my voice steady even though my mind was running a mile a minute. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna lie¡ªthis sounds a lot more intense than anything I¡¯ve done so far. But I¡¯ve made it through this much, right? I¡¯m not planning to drop dead just yet.¡± I tried to sound more confident than I felt, but I knew he could see through it. Still, I wasn¡¯t going to let the fear win. I¡¯d come too far on this Major Task to back down now, even if the idea of stepping outside the megabuilding¡¯s walls made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with excitement. Mr. Stirling leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied me, his expression a mix of frustration, respect, and something else¡ªmaybe a flicker of reluctant hope. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t do anything stupid, alright? I need the data, not a report on how the courier I sent got herself killed by a random group of scavs or another. Hazard pay or not, I¡¯d rather not have to deal with the fallout at all¡­ Assuming I¡¯m even going to end up sending you, that is.¡± ¡°Got it. No stupid moves,¡± I replied, trying to reassure him. But even as I said it, I couldn¡¯t help but think about how every single time I¡¯d tried to stick to the plan, things had gone sideways anyway. And that thought¡ªit bothered me more than I wanted to admit. I shifted in my seat, feeling the nerves starting to creep back in, but this time, it wasn¡¯t about the job or the danger. It was about something I¡¯d been wanting to ask him for a while and the whole reason I had even stuck around, accidentally seizing up on his couch earlier. ¡°Mr. Stirling,¡± I started, choosing my words carefully. ¡°If I end up being the one going out there, I want to make sure it doesn¡¯t turn into another¡­ Well, another mess, really. Every time I try to plan ahead for one of these collections, something goes wrong. Like, badly wrong. And I keep ending up in situations where I¡¯m scraping by with a fourth or fifth backup plan¡ªif I even have one left by the time things are wrapping up.¡± I could feel the tension in my shoulders as I spoke, the frustration of barely surviving the last two times wearing on me more than I¡¯d like to admit. ¡°It¡¯s like no matter how much I try to prep, no matter how much I go over the plans again and again, nothing ever goes the way I intend. The last two jobs, especially this one¡­ I thought I had things figured out beforehand. I had routes, emergency exits, escape plans. I even knew which elevators I could use in case of a chase. But then I still ran into those Phoenix enforcers, and it all went to shit from there. I barely managed to make it out using, like, plan Z or something coupled with a bunch of improvisation towards the end.¡± I looked up at him, hoping he wouldn¡¯t just brush me off. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing this kind of work for a lot longer than me. How do you make it work? How do you keep from getting caught up in constant improvisation every time something unexpected happens? How do you properly plan for these kinds of missions, without having to throw out the plans like five minutes into a run?¡± Mr. Stirling¡¯s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. He didn¡¯t interrupt, which I took as a good sign¡ªhe was at least hearing me out. When I finished, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a thoughtful hum. ¡°Well, first off, you¡¯re right¡ªplanning is crucial. Having an idea of where all the players are, where they will be and what your target area looks like is paramount. But here¡¯s the thing: Plans aren¡¯t about predicting every little thing that¡¯ll happen. They¡¯re about giving yourself a framework to work within, a baseline to operate from when things go south. And trust me, they always go south at some point, no matter how good of a planner you are.¡± He paused, probably thinking back on his own experiences. ¡°Your problem isn¡¯t exactly that your plans aren¡¯t good enough, I¡¯d say; it¡¯s that you¡¯re putting too much faith in them staying intact to begin with. You simply can¡¯t account for every variable¡ªrandom enforcers, nosy corpos, faulty intel. You¡¯ve gotta build in flexibility from the get-go; that ¡°improvisation¡± you were talking about. More of that; but planned. Contingencies, more dynamic options, more planned improvisation that depend entirely on what kind of a situation you end up in. And most importantly: You¡¯ve got to be ready to scrap the whole thing the second you spot something you didn¡¯t expect and adjust on the fly.¡± He leaned back again, crossing his arms. ¡°Your last plan, for example¡ªyou had the right idea with the multiple exit routes and fallback points. But you¡¯ve gotta consider the human element as well. People don¡¯t act the way you expect them to, especially in places like these. Those Phoenix kids? You weren¡¯t expecting them, sure, but they¡¯re the kind of random variables you¡¯ve got to plan for¡ªnot specifically, of course, but in a broader sense. Learn to recognize the signs early¡ªwhen things aren¡¯t adding up, when you see faces you didn¡¯t expect. Sometimes it¡¯s about reading the room faster and being willing to abandon the whole play before it even starts to unravel, that differentiates the good planners from the bad ones.¡± He looked at me, his gaze firm but not unkind. ¡°And don¡¯t just think about the escape routes. Think about how to make the environment work for you as well. If you do get cornered, can you use the crowd? Can you redirect attention, create chaos? Running to your nearest elevator is a decent strat, all things considered, but not always the only one available¡ªor available at all, when it comes to being outside the megabuilding. You¡¯ve already got good instincts, otherwise you would have died in that second run of yours; you just need to learn to trust them more when your plans start falling apart.¡± I took a moment to really let his words sink in, feeling like they¡¯d hit a nerve I hadn¡¯t fully acknowledged before. A lot of what he said felt like basic stuff¡ªthings that should¡¯ve been ¡°common sense¡±¡ªbut in the heat of planning, I¡¯d somehow let them slip. It wasn¡¯t exactly about not knowing what to do; it was about actually putting that knowledge into action, I realised. I had already known I needed to stay flexible, to not get too attached to the plan and be ready to toss it all out if the situation demanded it, but knowing and doing were apparently two very different beasts. ¡°Yeah, thanks, Mr. Stirling,¡± I said, genuinely appreciative. ¡°I¡¯ve been so caught up trying to make everything perfect that I never really left enough room for things to go sideways¡­ Well, not the way I should have, anyway.¡± He shot me a knowing smile, the kind that said he¡¯d been exactly where I was before. ¡°No one ever gets it perfect, Sera. But the fact that you¡¯re asking these questions means you¡¯re on the right track. Plans are just tools, nothing more. They¡¯re there to guide you, not to control you. The trick is knowing when to throw the plan out entirely and just embrace the chaos.¡± I nodded, mulling it over. It was like a lightbulb moment; a reminder that I didn¡¯t need to have every answer lined up. It wasn¡¯t about following a scripted plan¡ªI just needed to know how to improvise better when things inevitably went off the rails. ¡°Got it,¡± I replied, feeling a new resolve to do better next time. ¡°Thanks again, Mr. Stirling.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, kid,¡± he replied with a chuckle, heading back toward his usual spot on the cushioned armchair. Seeing him move back to his chair, I figured it was my cue to leave. I¡¯d gotten the advice I needed and said what I had to say, so it was time to get back to work¡ªno point in overstaying my welcome. As he started to sit down, I pushed myself up from the couch, wincing slightly as my bruised arm reminded me of its existence. ¡°Take care of that arm, Sera,¡± Mr. Stirling called out, his tone back to its usual mix of casual concern and business-like detachment. ¡°And remember, don¡¯t rush things. You¡¯ve got potential¡ªjust don¡¯t go getting yourself killed trying to prove it.¡± I nodded, offering a quick smile. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind. See you around, Mr. Stirling.¡± With that, I headed toward the door, feeling the weight of the day truly start to settle in. As I stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me, I couldn¡¯t help but replay his words in my mind. There was a lot to think about, especially considering his words about the data I had been collecting for him, but there wasn¡¯t really anything I could do about it at the time. Whatever that massively important revelation was that he had ended up seeing inside of it, it would remain a mystery for me for quite some time yet, it seemed. As I made my way down the corridors of the megabuilding, my mind was already jumping ahead to what needed to come next. First stop: Home. I needed to rest and regroup, then it¡¯d be time to tackle the final session with Kill Joy inside the SPG-01 shard. I was determined to wrap it up today, giving myself at least a day or so of full-on programming work before the meeting with the Operator to try out some new netrunning ideas that had been bouncing around in my head. But before any of that, what I needed most was a hot shower. The day had dragged on way too long, and I was sick of feeling the dried blood sticking to my skin and clothes¡ªmost of it not even mine. I still had a lot to get through, but a moment of feeling clean and halfway human again was something I wasn¡¯t about to pass up on. I could practically hear the shower calling my name, and the thought of hot water washing away the grime and chaos of the day had me picking up the pace. The day wasn¡¯t even close to over yet, not by a long shot, but at least I¡¯d be facing the next round feeling a little less like I¡¯d just been through a meat grinder¡­ Chapter 92 - Manifestation Stepping out of the shower, I felt like a whole new person. The steam lingering on my skin left a comforting warmth that helped ease some of the tension that had been buzzing around in my mind all day. I still had a lot on my plate, especially with the meeting with Vega¡¯s Operator looming closer and closer every day, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel wildly unprepared for it; despite my best efforts so far to get prepared. I sometimes kicked myself for getting swept up in the moment with Jade and her sisters¡ªit had ended up ultimately being what got me out of that situation, sure, but cashing in a favour that big on a whim, probably wasn¡¯t my smartest move. But crying over spilled milk wasn¡¯t gonna get me anywhere now. Dressed in my loose ¡°home¡± outfit that was basically the unofficial uniform of relaxation, I made my way over to the room Gabriel and I shared. It was time to dive back into the SPG-01 shard and make some real progress. My goal was to wrap it up completely so I could start tinkering with netrunning on my own terms. If I wanted to prove myself to Vega¡¯s Operator, I needed to show I wasn¡¯t just another kid trying to claw her way into the scene¡ªI needed something that truly set me apart, at least from the lowest blanks. My [Martial Arts] skill was shaping up nicely, and my growing arsenal of Skills was nothing to scoff at, but I knew none of them were at a level that would make anyone stick their neck out for me on a professional level. Just finishing the SPG-01 shard, however, would already push me a few steps ahead of the average upstart, and if I could show off a self-made quick-hack or even just a solid subroutine or segment prototype? Well, then I¡¯d be a name worth remembering. Like Mr. Stirling had said, good netrunners were rare¡ªand thus, valuable. If I played my cards right, I could make myself someone Vega¡¯s contact wouldn¡¯t just consider, but actually want to sponsor. But in order to get there, I needed to do some additional grinding and listening for once; especially for this upcoming part of the lessons Kill Joy had prepared, as it featured [Manifestation] first and foremost¡ªa Skill that hadn¡¯t existed in the actual game itself, so something I couldn¡¯t actually cheat on by using my pre-existing wiki knowledge. Determined to get things done, I slotted in the SPG-01 shard and let the program replace reality.
¡°The girl has returned,¡± Kill Joy greeted me with his usual smug grin. ¡°Undoubtedly to glean more insights from the one and only Joy of Kill, isn¡¯t that right?¡± I rolled my eyes, not even pretending to resist the urge to dismiss his theatrics. With a small effort, I manifested my chair for the classroom like I always did, sitting down and gesturing for him to get on with it. No time for games today. ¡°Someone¡¯s moody,¡± he said, clearly irked by me blowing past his dramatic entrance. But, true to form, he floated leisurely towards the blackboard. With a simple flick of his wrist, the words ¡°Lesson 3: Manifestation and You¡± appeared in sharp, digital script. He turned back towards me with a serious look on his face. ¡°You¡¯ve been working through this program quite quickly, I must say. I trust that all the lessons, tricks, and tidbits of information have stuck around somewhere in that head of yours, girl¡­ Alas, I am but a humble servant to your whims, so let¡¯s move on to the last lesson of this shard: Manifestation. ¡°Now, when it comes to manifestation as a concept, not many people grasp it fully¡ªnot even most netrunners. It¡¯s one of the weird quirks of this world that we inhabit, something that allows those with the right skills to bend it to their will. Take that chair you created, for example: What, pray tell, makes it different from one that¡¯s been hard-coded into the shard from the start?¡± He floated over to grab one of the pre-programmed chairs from the corner, placing it next to mine before gesturing for me to stand and take a closer look. As I stepped up, the difference between the two was glaringly obvious. Kill Joy¡¯s chair looked simple, made of some non-descript light-brown wood, but it had this undeniable sturdiness to it. Smooth edges, solid design¡ªlike it was built to handle anyone who sat in it, no matter the size or shape. Meanwhile, my chair... Well, it was definitely mine. It was slimmer, sleeker, clearly designed with just me in mind. The dark-red wood I¡¯d chosen stood out like a sore thumb next to the plain chair, and I¡¯d based it off my favourite one from back home. But the real kicker? It didn¡¯t feel as real, for a lack of better description. Like, sure, it worked¡ªI could sit on it just fine¡ªbut it gave off this weird vibe. A sense of being ¡°less¡± compared to Kill Joy¡¯s. It didn¡¯t have that solid presence the other one did, like it wasn¡¯t fully part of the world that we were standing in. ¡°My chair is¡­ less,¡± I muttered, trying to put my finger on what exactly felt off. ¡°Aside from the obvious design stuff, it just feels like it doesn¡¯t belong here. It¡¯s not as¡­ real.¡± Kill Joy nodded, that smug look still plastered on his face. ¡°Exactly. You¡¯re on the right track, girl. Manifestation isn¡¯t just about creating¡ªit¡¯s about making something that fits, something that the world itself can¡¯t distinguish from its own. That¡¯s where the real expertise comes in.¡± He gestured towards my chair. ¡°Now, sit. I will explain so that you may learn from the greatest mind this world has ever seen.¡± I sat down, tuning out the last part of that sentence with the kind of practised ease that comes with having dealt with Kill Joy long enough. His flair for drama was something I¡¯d gotten used to, even if it still made me roll my eyes occasionally. ¡°Manifestation,¡± he began, ¡°is essentially a form of quick-hacking, if we¡¯re sticking with analogies we¡¯ve already covered. The netrunner¡ªor really, anyone with the right know-how¡ªhijacks the world¡¯s fundamental code and injects their own snippets to bend it to their will. Just like you would with a quick-hack when breaking into a secure vault or slicing through a slime daemon with a data-sword. ¡°In a way, manifestation is the most fundamental form of running. It¡¯s actually the first form of running, if we¡¯re being exact.¡± I blinked at that. The first form? Like some kind of ancient netrunner technique? Or was he being more philosophical? I wasn¡¯t quite sure what he meant, but I didn¡¯t get a chance to ask before he continued, clarifying it in his own roundabout way. ¡°Before there was netrunning, before the NetBurn, even before the first lines of code were written for Cyberspace itself¡ªmanifestation existed. It was the early days of hacking and cracking, where the original runners used crude tools, basic programs, and raw imagination to manipulate systems no one else even saw as manipulable. The earliest form of running. ¡°Nowadays,¡± he said, pacing back and forth in front of me, ¡°masters of manifestation no longer require those tools; or any, for that matter. Their understanding of the world''s code and their imagination and will to change said code are enough. They can create where creation should be impossible; change what shouldn¡¯t be possible to change. Of all the lessons you¡¯ve learned in this shard, this one is by far the most fundamental. If you grasp the true nature of manifestation, everything else¡ªquick-hacks, programs, even combat with other netrunners and daemons¡ªbecomes supplementary.¡± It was a bit strange seeing Kill Joy wax philosophical like this, given his usual smug and aloof attitude. It felt like, for once, he was letting me peek behind the curtain¡ªshowing me something deeper, more meaningful than his usual cryptic, superiority complex-riddled lessons. But I couldn¡¯t deny it¡ªit was definitely getting to me. [Manifestation] sounded way more vast and critical than I could¡¯ve ever guessed. Still, one thing kept bugging me in the way Kill Joy kept phrasing it. ¡°You keep saying ¡®the world¡¯ when you talk about manifestation. Why? Don¡¯t you mean Cyberspace? Or at least, the digital world in general?¡± I ignored the smug grin that spread across his face as he floated lazily toward me, as if he had been waiting for that exact question. ¡°Do I mean Cyberspace, girl? Do I?¡± Sometimes, with Kill Joy, you had to play his games if you wanted a straight answer¡ªthis seemed like one of those times. ¡°If you didn¡¯t mean Cyberspace,¡± I replied, trying to think it through out loud, ¡°then you¡¯d be implying that manifestation could work outside of it. Like, in the real world. But if that was possible, wouldn¡¯t people just be walking around like demi-gods? Changing things, creating whatever they wanted in the real world? So why keep saying ¡®world¡¯ instead of ¡®Cyberspace¡¯ or ¡®digital world¡¯?¡± Kill Joy¡¯s smug smile widened as if I¡¯d just walked into a trap he¡¯d carefully laid out for me, but instead of springing it, he gave me a slow nod, seemingly satisfied with my reasoning. ¡°Ah, finally, some signs of sapience,¡± Kill Joy said, his voice dripping with exaggerated surprise, like I¡¯d just solved the world¡¯s simplest puzzle. ¡°Indeed, you¡¯ve stumbled onto something, girl. And you¡¯re correct¡ªif I phrased it that way, it¡¯d be quite the implication, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He chuckled to himself, clearly getting more entertainment from this than I was. His cryptic little jokes probably made him feel like some ancient sage, even if no one else thought so or could follow any of the punchlines. ¡°To answer you directly: Yes, I am implying that. Manifestation isn¡¯t limited to the digital world or Cyberspace. In fact, the first times runners used it¡ªhalf-consciously, mind you¡ªit happened outside the digital world entirely. It¡¯s what gave rise to the whole idea of quick-hacks in the first place.¡± My eyes widened at that. I hadn¡¯t even considered that [Manifestation] was something that could potentially be used outside of Cyberspace. The sheer idea of it had seemed far too absurd to even entertain. But now, Kill Joy of all people, was telling me that this was actually possible? That you could just¡­ what¡­ be a demi-god and create things or change them with a mere thought? How did that even make sense? And why hadn¡¯t anything of the sort ever been mentioned in the game? Before I could lose myself in a rabbit hole of thoughts, Kill Joy raised his hands in a ¡®calm down¡¯ gesture. ¡°Before you spiral out of control, girl, let me clarify: Manifestation isn¡¯t nearly as powerful in the real world as it is in the digital. But it is there. Almost every netrunner uses it, usually without realising. It¡¯s just that the term they¡¯re familiar with is more basic. Most corporate class-rooms and guides do not cover manifestation as a whole, but focus only on a small part of. A subsection of manifestation, if you will. They call it projection.¡± Hearing that word made everything click. Suddenly, it all started to make some sort of sense. ¡°Projection¡± was something I had heard of. Something I was definitely familiar with from Neon Dragons. It had been one of those stats I¡¯d seen listed with specific netrunner NPCs and also tied to certain cybernetic implants and netrunner-related gear like crowns. "Projection" was basically the range and ¡°power¡± of a netrunner''s quick-hacks, for lack of a better term. It decided how far away you could be from your target and how fast your code would get there. In hindsight, it actually made a lot of sense that projection was linked to manifestation, especially after Kill Joy¡¯s little lecture. I¡¯d always wondered just how quick-hacks or cyberdecks always seemed to know exactly who you were targeting and why. I¡¯d chalked it up to a ¡°handwave it away¡± situation¡ªmaybe explained by the semi-AI governing things like your cerebral interface since it could ¡°read¡± your thoughts to some extent. But if netrunners weren¡¯t just relying on the tech but instead were the ones actively shaping and directing the code themselves, then it wasn¡¯t about the deck doing the work for them; it was about their own intent, their own willpower, guiding that code exactly where it needed to go in the first place; with the hardware simply being in a supportive role. That also cleared up how netrunners could link up to seemingly anything they wanted just by thinking about it¡ªno need to scroll through a list of networks or spend time meticulously selecting a target. They projected their will, and the code just followed along for the ride. I¡¯d always wondered what that ¡°projection¡± stat really stood for, fundamentally speaking, in the lore. There¡¯d been nothing like it in my old world, being about as mundane and basic as it could get for a world, so I figured it was just some gamified term for ¡°power.¡± But now I could see it was more akin to ¡°intent and will.¡± And [Manifestation] itself? It clearly wasn¡¯t just some cool little netrunning trick. It all boiled down to intent and will. A lot of questions were still buzzing around my head, but at least things were starting to make a bit more sense. It wasn¡¯t the complete mess of abstract concepts that it had been before. But there was one glaring question I couldn¡¯t ignore, so I just blurted it out. "How does it actually work, though? How do you manifest things in the real world? And projection¡ªhow can that even be a thing? Doesn¡¯t it, like, completely break a dozen laws of physics or something?" Kill Joy, ever the smug teacher, chuckled as he lazily floated around me in slow circles. "Maybe it breaks the laws of physics you think you know, girl. For me, it all makes perfect sense. There¡¯s more to this world than what meets the eye. Things most people don¡¯t even want to imagine could exist. Manifestation, Projection¡ªthose are just a couple examples of what¡¯s possible. And trust me, they¡¯re far from the only ones." He let that sink in for a moment, leaving me to chew on the cryptic message, before he dramatically waved his arms like he was shooing away imaginary flies. "But enough philosophy. Let''s focus on practical examples¡ªthat¡¯s what you¡¯re here for, isn¡¯t it? Manifestation is best done in the digital world, because the ''laws of physics,'' as you so keenly pointed out, are a lot more flexible here. We can bend them, twist them, and make them fit our will already, through just a few lines of code. So, there¡¯s a lot less resistance when it comes to forcing your intent on the rest of it." With a snap of his fingers, a shimmering golden door appeared beside him. He gestured toward it with a flourish. "Let¡¯s head back into Cyberspace, girl. Time to give that avatar of yours a bit of a facelift, don¡¯t you think¡­?"
My head was still spinning with a million-and-one questions when I found myself back in the familiar reception room of Cyberspace. It was the same nondescript, grey, square room I had first landed in before Kill Joy had loaded up the Neo Avalis recreation last time. Honestly, not the most exciting of virtual spaces, but it did the job. I took a quick glance at my digital self and was relieved to see that my arm had fully regenerated, and my avatar seemed completely unharmed¡ªa drastic upgrade from the last time, where I¡¯d left it in a pretty sorry state. ¡®Good, the avatar regenerates. Very good,¡¯ I thought to myself, nodding in satisfaction. Sure, that had been the case in the game too, but I was quickly learning not to take anything for granted here. It was nice to know that some things did, in fact, work 1:1. Kill Joy floated beside me in all his golden, smug glory, his expression a mix of smugness, patience, and a dash of exasperation. Honestly, trying to decode Kill Joy¡¯s moods was like trying to read a rapidly scrolling wall of code¡ªimpossible to get a clear read on, but the smugness? Always a constant. ¡°So, what now?¡± I asked, deciding to cut to the chase. As tempting as it was to sit here and unpack all the weirdness he¡¯d just dropped on me about [Manifestation], I didn¡¯t want to drag this out longer than necessary. There¡¯d be plenty of time to revisit all that existential stuff later if I really needed to. Besides, as long as I didn¡¯t sell the shard, I could always come back to this digital classroom and pick his brain whenever I wanted. It wasn¡¯t like this digital version of Kill Joy was going anywhere. Kill Joy floated lazily, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gestured toward my avatar. ¡°Alright, girl, it¡¯s time to put everything you¡¯ve learned so far to use. Today¡¯s task: Changing your avatar¡¯s visual appearance. Just something very simple; maybe a different coloured hair; maybe turn your skin bright-pink or something? Now, before you get too excited, however, let me be clear: Yes, it is entirely possible to alter the way your avatar functions in digital space¡ªchange its abilities, speed, reflexes, you name it¡ªbut that¡¯s far beyond the scope of this little tutorial shard. Baby steps, alright?¡± I raised an eyebrow, unsurprised, considering that different avatars had existed within the game as well, but still slightly disappointed that I didn¡¯t get to actually try creating one quite yet. ¡°So, just aesthetics for now?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± he confirmed with a nod. ¡°But don¡¯t underestimate the importance of that, either, girl. The way you present yourself in Cyberspace can influence how others perceive you, and thus, how hard it is for them to track you. Think of it as a mask to hide your identity from unwelcome admirers. Now, mind you, it¡¯s not actually necessary to change your actual appearance; simply layering code on top of yourself is already enough to obfuscate the real you, regardless of what you make the avatar look like in the end.¡± He floated closer, his tone shifting to that of a professor about to launch into a lecture. ¡°The process of altering your avatar isn¡¯t as simple as picking some random sliders in a character creation menu, however. You¡¯ll be using a combined effort of manifestation, programming, and quick-hack knowledge. And that,¡± he said, with a finger raised, ¡°is exactly why this module comes last. Without the programming and quick-hack understanding you¡¯ve gained in the previous lessons, trying to change your avatar would be like trying to code a new program by banging your head against the keyboard. Exceedingly funny looking and not a surprising turn of events for you in particular, but ultimately, fruitless.¡± ¡°So, what should I focus on?¡± I asked, ready for the inevitable onslaught of smug-infused instructions. Kill Joy grinned, clearly pleased that I was paying eager attention. ¡°The first step is manifestation¡ªthis is where you focus your intent. You¡¯ve already learned the basics of manifestation with the way I¡¯ve made you create your own chair every time, so use that knowledge to similarly visualise what you want your avatar to look like. You need to have a strong idea of what you want to achieve, to be able to project your will onto the code that governs your appearance.¡± He flicked his wrist, and lines of code began to scroll through the air in front of me¡ªlines that I could somehow instinctively tell belonged to me; my digital self. ¡°Next, you¡¯ll want to tap into the programming skills you¡¯ve learned over the last few sessions. The visual appearance of your avatar is controlled by specific segments of code, and you need to tweak those. Nobody can really tell you where and how exactly, as everyone¡¯s avatar differs slightly based on who you are. So this is where your knowledge of programming structure comes into play and your understanding of Cyber, the language, as a whole¡ªyou¡¯re essentially tasked with finding the avatar¡¯s visual parameters. Pay attention to what each line affects and make sure your changes don¡¯t create conflicts.¡± He paused, letting that sink in for a moment before moving on. ¡°Finally, you¡¯ll want to use your quick-hack skills to actually pull off the change itself. Think of the quick-hack lessons we¡¯ve had and how you learned to inject code and modify pre-existing systems¡ªthat¡¯s exactly what you need to do here. You¡¯re essentially hacking your own avatar¡¯s visual parameters, girl.¡± He brought his hands together, fingers interlocking as if he were physically combining pieces. ¡°Then you merge all these skills: Your knowledge, intent, and will, to manifest the change. That¡¯s how manifestation works¡ªboth here in the digital world and out there in the real one. So, the steps again: Visualise the change, locate the code that governs it, inject your modifications, and will the change into existence. Simple, right?¡± Kill Joy¡¯s voice had that familiar edge of a challenge, almost daring me to mess up. It was clear he wasn¡¯t thrilled about how quickly I¡¯d blown through his previous lessons, and I could hardly blame him. To him, I probably seemed like someone mashing the skip button to rush through dialogue just to get to the boss fights. These shards were designed to be completed over months¡ªmaybe even a year¡ªnot in the week or two I¡¯d been blazing through them. Each session was supposed to be spaced out, with time in between to practice, research, and experiment. But I¡¯d crammed three or four sessions into every visit, barely giving myself a break. Even with Kill Joy¡¯s intermittent tests and pop quizzes, which I¡¯d aced thanks to the System¡¯s knowledge downloads, I hadn¡¯t slowed down. I could tell it frustrated him, but what could he do? He was bound by the shard¡¯s programming. If I passed the tests, the lessons continued¡ªit was that simple. But this final manifestation lesson now? This was different. It was like a final exam. If I hadn¡¯t truly grasped the core concepts he¡¯d been trying to drill into me this entire time, this challenge would be impossible to pass. So the first thing I did, which seemed like the most obvious thing for me to do, was to manifest a new chair and take a seat to take a closer look at the code that Kill Joy had pulled up for me¡ªthis was definitely going to take a while¡­ Chapter 93 - Golden Epiphany Sifting through the code turned out to be far more intricate than I¡¯d expected. I knew it was going to take a while, but I hadn¡¯t fully realised just how massive a task ¡°locate the code that governs your avatar¡¯s visual appearance¡± really was. Two hours in, and my brain was fried¡ªI¡¯d barely managed to wrap my head around a few key sections, and I was positively miles away from understanding how any of it actually worked. The first thing I figured out? This wasn¡¯t the whole code¡ªfar from it, actually. My instinct, thanks to [Programming], was to find the core of the code, like locating the heart of a maze before worrying about the side paths; something like the main function or unifying system that combined all the different aspects of the code together. It took me all of ten minutes to realise¡­ Yeah, no, that wasn¡¯t happening. There was no ¡°core¡± to be found. When I mentioned it to Kill Joy, he casually confirmed my suspicions. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve only given you the ¡®relevant¡¯ bits,¡± he¡¯d said with that smug grin of his. Apparently, around 96% of the avatar¡¯s code had been stripped out, because loading the entire thing would¡¯ve straight-up nuked the shard¡¯s processing power. To really dig into the full code, I¡¯d need access to an actual Cyberspace network, off-loading most of the work onto the millions and billions of servers and micro-servers scattered across the city. And yet, even these ¡°relevant¡± parts seemed never-ending. You know that little scrollbar on the side of a window that shows how far you¡¯ve scrolled? Yeah, this whole interface didn¡¯t even have a visible one¡ªthere was just that much stuff to sift through. I couldn¡¯t even see a single-pixel line indicating how far down I really was, which didn¡¯t exactly boost my motivation. ¡®This is impossible¡­ There¡¯s no way people actually read through all of this, right?¡¯ I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my digital eyes, which, weirdly enough, actually felt kind of nice. The shard was meant to last for months, maybe even a year if you were thorough, but surely the majority of that time wasn¡¯t supposed to be spent on this final test, trying to find which parts of it Kill Joy wanted you to actually edit? At the pace I was going, though, I could easily see it taking months to finish; time I definitely didn¡¯t have. It was painfully clear¡ªI needed a different approach. I sat there for a minute, trying to think. There had to be a better way. Maybe something I was overlooking, or something Kill Joy hadn¡¯t spelled out but expected me to figure out on my own; just as he always did. The endless scrolling and sheer bulk of the code¡ªit all felt like busywork, like some kind of cruel prank designed to drive me nuts. I could easily see someone getting stuck here for weeks, or even months, banging their head against the digital wall, slowly going insane. I replayed Kill Joy¡¯s words in my mind: "Visualise the change, locate the code, inject your modifications, and will the change into existence." Easier said than done. ¡®How am I supposed to do any of that if I can¡¯t even figure out what part needs changing¡­?¡¯ Desperate for a breakthrough, I started throwing everything I had at the problem. I applied [Programming], [Netrunning], [Quick-Hacks] to my entire thought-process, like a side-loaded wiki, of sorts¡ªbasically all the obvious choices, hoping one of them would suddenly spark the "Aha!" moment I needed. But nothing clicked. The code remained a dense jungle of meaningless symbols and lines. I tried branching out to more off-the-wall approaches, even throwing [Accounting] into the mix like some kind of desperate last-ditch search algorithm. I thought maybe, just maybe, it could help me sort through the noise, but without any idea what the relevant code actually looked like, I was basically fishing blind. Frustration started to creep in. I was half a second from quitting out of the shard for the day and shifting my focus elsewhere, but when I thought about it, there wasn¡¯t much else I could realistically tackle right now that needed doing before my meeting with the Operator. Finishing this shard was by far the most pressing task on my list. Think, Sera, think! Kill Joy wouldn¡¯t give you an impossible task¡­ So what''s the deal? I ran through everything I knew about [Programming], mentally fine-tuning my focus, looking for any breadcrumb that could guide me. I didn¡¯t need to fully understand the entire code; I just needed one small fragment to get me started, something to use as a foothold. Another twenty minutes later, my brain felt like it had been wrung dry. I glanced at Kill Joy, who hadn¡¯t moved from his floating position at my side. He looked as smug and unbothered as ever, his expression practically begging me to crack. I shot him a murderous glare, imagining him popping like a balloon of digital fragments if I stared hard enough. But, unfortunately for everyone involved, I had no luck on this either¡ªhe just hovered there, watching with that same irritating smirk. ¡®Alright, this clearly isn¡¯t working¡­ Let¡¯s take the rational approach and work through this step-by-step: What do I need? The part of the code that determines the visual appearance of my avatar. Where would I put this code if I was creating an avatar?¡¯ I thought, feeling the frustration building. Then, a few moments later, came the inevitable realization, ¡®Well... fuck, I don¡¯t know! That¡¯s the whole goddamn issue in the first place!¡¯ I was so pissed off that I couldn¡¯t sit still anymore. Without thinking, I dropped to the floor and started banging out push-ups, trying to burn off the frustration. Exercise had always helped me think clearer¡ªor at least, I hoped it would this time. I had already burned through all my usual Skills and Attributes, hoping one of them would click into place, but they¡¯d all come up empty. Time for a different approach. Mid-push-up, I slowed down and started dissecting the problem bit by bit. Breaking down problems into smaller, manageable chunks was the fundamental nature, the true bread and butter, of [Programming], right? Kill Joy¡¯s words echoed in my mind again, but this time, I dissected them even further than before, ¡°Visualise, locate the code¡­¡± I went on to apply my resources again, throwing everything¡ªincluding the kitchen sink¡ªat it to try and find a way out. Body and Reflex? Yeah, no, those weren¡¯t going to help me here. But I ran through them anyway, just in case¡ªnothing. Ego and Edge? Similarly low-chance rolls, but I figured that getting more dice was always a good shot¡ªnothing again. When I got to Intellect, though, which I had kept for last out of fear that I would be disappointed once again, something finally shifted. It wasn¡¯t a massive breakthrough, but it was a first nudge in the right direction. Enough to make me freeze mid-push-up, hovering just above the ground, as an idea took shape. My Intellect finally kicked in, applying its logical reasoning to the bite-sized part of Kill Joy¡¯s instructions, and suddenly, it hit me. Like a sledgehammer of blindingly obvious truth. And immediately I felt like an absolute idiot. I¡¯d been tackling this like a typical programming problem¡ªbrute-forcing my way through, line by line, hoping to spot the code that controlled my avatar. But this wasn¡¯t one of Kill Joy¡¯s usual tests. He wasn¡¯t expecting me to find the code first and then make changes. The work had to come before finding the code. This was about [Manifestation], after all. It wasn¡¯t just programming or technical know-how¡ªit was about intent. Willpower. Visualisation. I had been approaching it like a machine when the real task was to inject intent into the digital space. I hadn¡¯t been following his instructions properly this whole time, simply skipping over the first part entirely, figuring that it was only necessary in combination with the third and fourth parts; rather than all of them. The first step was visualising the change I wanted; the rest worked off of that visualisation¡ªit had to. ¡°Visualise the change, then locate the code,¡± was what Kill Joy had intended to say. Taking a deep breath, I let go of the technical side of things for a moment. I stopped treating this as a debugging puzzle to solve and instead focused on the result I wanted to achieve first. I needed to truly see the change in my mind before I could make it real. I pictured my avatar, letting the image slowly take shape in my mind. Darker, longer hair; sharper, more mature features¡ªsomething that felt more like me and not just the default Sera template I¡¯d been rolling with all this time. I let my imagination take the reins, figuring that if I gave [Manifestation] enough to work with, it would have to give me something back. I started layering details, an entire look: A long, sturdy and overly stylish, black cloak that billowed behind me; bandoliers filled with gadgets and weapons¡ªpistols, knives, throwing knives, and, of course, a full-on energy blade strapped to my side; Cyan-coloured, because that¡¯s just how I rolled. Then came the oversized hood, big enough to completely mask my face, adding that perfect ¡°mysterious stranger¡± type touch that I was all about. As I envisioned it, I could practically see the avatar materialise in front of me, even though I was still frozen in my push-up. My mind was locked-the-fuck-in, fully immersed in the process, and it felt like everything else had faded away. When it was nearly complete, I realised something was missing. Something that felt essential¡ªme. It was all well and good to design a cool new look, but I couldn¡¯t leave out a key part of who I was either. While Kill Joy had said this was all about visuals, there was no way I could skip this detail. A single, cyan-feathered wing broke through the cloak at my avatar¡¯s back, adding an extra layer of asymmetry and flair. Because let¡¯s be real: A-symmetric details? They were always sick as hell; and who wouldn¡¯t want wings¡ªor a wing¡ªif given the chance? This wasn¡¯t just any old avatar anymore; no longer. It was now a reflection of who I truly was, deep down¡ªthe edgy 13-year-old still hanging out somewhere inside me that would never truly grow up. And honestly? I was okay with that. Once I had the image locked down, I carefully got up from my push-up, holding onto the visualisation as if it might slip away¡ªbut surprisingly, it didn¡¯t. It was almost like [Manifestation] had my back, gently cradling the image I¡¯d crafted, ensuring I didn¡¯t lose it, regardless of my actions going forward. I knew I was doing something right, too, because the moment I¡¯d started the process, the System chimed in with the notification I¡¯d been waiting for:
[System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: [Manifestation] Skill has reached Level 1. Muscle Memory and Knowledge Download available.
There was no way I was about to push forward without that sweet, sweet System-sanctioned upgrade. So, learning from my past blunders for once and not wanting to get knocked off my feet by another download, I quickly took a seat on the chair I¡¯d manifested earlier¡ªjust in case¡ªand confirmed the prompt. The second I accepted the [Manifestation] download, my mind buzzed with the familiar sensation of data pouring in. But this time, it was a slightly different feeling entirely. Subtler. The rush wasn¡¯t as overwhelming as some of the other Skills I¡¯d downloaded before¡ªit was more of a gentle nudge rather than a full-blown flood. Almost like the System was easing me into the basics of what [Manifestation] actually entailed on an instinctual level, rather than an intellectual one. The first thing I felt was an awareness of my surroundings, like the very fabric of the digital space I was in was now more¡­ real, at least on some surface level. I couldn¡¯t see any form of code or anything like that outright, but I could now tell that it was there¡ªwaiting for me to interact with it. The download broke it down in the simplest terms, echoing what Kill Joy had already said: [Manifestation] was all about intent and willpower. But it wasn¡¯t just that¡ªit was also deeply tied to the core principles of [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks], only applied in far more abstract, almost esoteric, ways, rather than the literal, logical ones that I¡¯d initially expected. The world¡¯s code wasn¡¯t something you fought or forced¡ªit was something you convinced, something you guided toward a desired outcome. It was about making the world bend just enough to fit your mental image of reality; of what you wanted reality to become.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Step one, as Kill Joy had impressed, was the visualisation process. That part I had already started to get the hang of with my avatar just now. I needed to form a clear image of what I wanted to bring into existence¡ªwhether that was a physical object, a change in the environment, or even a modification to my avatar. The download reinforced that visual clarity was the absolute key. The more vivid and precise, down to the very smallest parts and understanding of what I wanted to create my mental picture was, the easier it would be to manifest the change. Step two was a bit more technical. It involved locating the relevant ¡°code¡±, that I now realised wasn¡¯t necessarily code in the programming sense, but rather the very laws of creation itself, that governed the object or effect I wanted to alter. [Manifestation] wasn¡¯t about manually picking through these endless lines of ¡°code¡±, though. It was far, far more instinctual than that. More instinctual than I had ever anticipated. It required a true balance of trust and intuition¡ªlike running a hand through water and feeling for the currents beneath the surface. Step three was where my prior knowledge of quick-hacks came into play¡ªor rather, its basic principles. I wasn¡¯t rewriting the ¡°code¡± from scratch¡ªI was instead injecting my own modifications, nudging the pre-existing lines to more align with, or maybe even match, my will. The download made it clear that this was where precision mattered most. It wasn¡¯t brute-forcing the change but aligning the code with my intent as closely as possible. If I tried to overwrite the existing code instead, [Manifestation] would simply fail. Finally, step four was the simplest yet simultaneously hardest to truly grasp of all: Will the change into existence. No hesitation. No second-guessing. It required full commitment and focus, like flipping a switch in my mind and letting the changes become reality in whatever way they would, based on what I had initially put as the parameters. It was about embracing the idea that, in this instance, I was asking the universe for a specific favour¡ªmy will paying the fare for the changes I wanted to enact. By the time the download finished, I felt a strange, otherworldly sense of calm wash over me. The fundamentals of [Manifestation] had clicked into place and they felt truly¡­ alien. This whole Skill was not something I had ever experienced nor thought possible; yet felt intrinsically right and proper in this world; like I had glimpsed a very foundational part of what made up this strange place I had been transported into after my death. My mind instinctively latched onto the only other time that I had felt a similar sense of profound connection: The Anima Attribute download. The moment it did, I felt an infinitely brief, yet sharp pain inside my head, before a series of Notifications rattled in.
[System]: Insight gained for [Manifestation] Skill. Altering Skill to reflect new understanding¡­ [System]: [Manifestation] Skill has been altered. Skill Attribute links have been changed to: (>Intellect/Intuition/Anima<) [System]: 500xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Anima Attribute.
The sudden rush of notifications rattled through my mind, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange mix of shock and inevitability. The System¡¯s ability to alter Skills on the fly, to literally shift the core structure of how things worked based on my own revelations, was incredible. But at the same time, it didn¡¯t really surprise me; not really, not anymore. The System had already proven highly adaptable and willing to change things around based on how I interacted with it and the world around me as a whole. While it was surprising to see that what was essentially listed originally as an Uncommon Skill could upgrade to a Rare one, it wasn¡¯t exactly a mind-shattering revelation to me; not anymore. [Manifestation] being an Anima Skill as well, made far too much sense. Everything I had been learning¡ªespecially with Mr. Shori and Miss K¡¯s guidance recently¡ªhad secretly pointed toward this, if subtly. Anima wasn¡¯t just an Attribute or some vague concept; it was tied to the very essence of bending reality, both physical and digital, with nothing but sheer force of will and intent¡ªjust like how [{Anima Blade}] managed to create a strange blade from absolutely nothing but those two aspects. That fundamental connection between will and resulting power was at the very core of Anima, and now it had bled into the mechanics of [Manifestation] itself as well. It brought me back to that moment with the Anima Attribute download: The eerie, yet exhilarating feeling of connecting with something far larger than myself; something beyond my current levels of understanding. Back then, it had felt like stepping into a whole new realm of understanding¡ªa gateway into a more profound knowledge of how this world functioned beyond the obvious game-like structures I had initially been thrown into. And now, the same thing was happening with [Manifestation] too. The knowledge download had shown me that it wasn¡¯t just a mere Skill; it was a bridge. A connection to something that seemed far more expansive than I¡¯d first realised. The boost to my Attributes I had received wasn¡¯t just some random bonus either, I understood¡ªit was the System¡¯s way of confirming that this change wasn¡¯t surface-level. This was fundamental, instead. Otherwise, the three Attributes receiving the same exact amount of experience would be impossible; given that they were all at different ranks, and thus, required different breakpoints to get experience drops in general. I let out a deep breath, mentally scrolling through the notifications one more time to make sure I hadn¡¯t missed anything. I took another moment to recenter my thoughts and focus back on the actual task at hand; re-visualising the image of the avatar I had created inside my head. Immediately, I found a few spots that could be improved as my new understanding of [Manifestation] provided the necessary building blocks to refine the previous ideas further. I spend around ten minutes working on getting things just right, before turning back towards the code that Kill Joy had spliced out of the avatar for me. I started to mentally sift through the code with more purpose this time around, focusing entirely on only sections that I felt intuitively connected to my intention. I was no longer hunting for a specific line or block of code anymore, but guiding my search with the image of what I wanted to achieve exclusively. It was more about feeling the right pieces fall into place, rather than meticulously finding and trying to understand them outright. Almost instantly, I noticed that the scrollbar shifted¡ªjust a hair, ever so slightly, but it moved. Finally, real progress. I was on the right track. ¡°Ah, there you go,¡± Kill Joy said, his tone approving as he watched me work. ¡°Starting to figure out the real trick, aren¡¯t you? It¡¯s not about brute force¡ªit¡¯s about flow. Intent. Will. Manifestation, girl. Now, keep going. Show me what your true self looks like.¡± I nodded enthusiastically, feeling a rush of euphoria as I locked in even more, letting my intent take full control of the process. It was like nothing I¡¯d ever experienced before¡ªpart coding, part hacking, but also something entirely more instinctual, almost primal in nature. Piece by piece, the code responded to me, bending and shaping as though it had been waiting for my command all along. Like a perfect search function had locked onto the exact lines I needed, pulling them out from the dense sea of code effortlessly. Finally, after who-knows-how-long, I had it in front of me¡ªthe code that governed my avatar¡¯s visual appearance. I knew it instinctively, even before fully comprehending what I was even looking at. The lines stretched out in front of me, detailed and intricate beyond anything I could have imagined. It was truly complex, absurdly so, but this time, I wasn¡¯t overwhelmed. I knew that I didn''t need to understand every little piece; I just needed to work with what was directly in front of me at any given point. Channelling my [Programming] know-how, my grasp of [Quick-Hacks], and the strange, intuitive magic of [Manifestation], I manifested a keyboard¡ªjust as instinctively as the rest¡ªand my fingers began flying across it. Each keystroke was linked directly to the codebase Kill Joy had laid out, and with every change I made, the code shifted, morphed, and adapted. Line by line, things changed, altered and morphed. Programming concepts came to me at rapid speeds, [Programming Maestro] offering me workarounds that I never could have imagined coming up with myself and making sure I never got stumped at trying to rewrite existing code into something that worked with what I had in mind; for I could not simply delete and rewrite existing sections, otherwise the [Manifestation] would fail. For the more unique and creative parts¡ªlike the asymmetrical wing I wanted to add¡ªmy [Quick-Hacks] knowledge jumped in. I used it to fill gaps in the code that didn¡¯t exist yet, carefully creating new sections where there had been none, without exploding the limits; like injecting code-snippets into an existing system to break into it or grant myself access. Even though it wasn¡¯t flawless code by any stretch, I knew in my gut that it would work. [Manifestation] confirmed it, like a silent partner guiding me along the entire way. Every time I made a mistake, I knew immediately, the image of my visualised avatar acting like a blueprint, held up against each line of code; each individual variable, each function and each nested loop. If the code I wrote didn¡¯t manage to match the vision, I adjusted, tweaked, and refined until it did. No subtractions to the original code¡ªonly additions; only moving forward, never back. This process, this blending of Skills, felt like I was tapping into something far deeper than just the digital world. I wasn¡¯t just coding; I was shaping the very reality of this space with my will, bit by bit, until my avatar would become exactly as I imagined. I had no idea how long I¡¯d been lost in the coding frenzy, driven by the single, unified image of my [Manifestation] avatar. Time seemed to slip away, but finally, my hands came to a stop, and my mind started to clear. I didn¡¯t even need to check over the code¡ªI already knew it was done. I had been double-checking and refining it in real-time while working, so there was no reason to doubt it now. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªfar from it, given my limited experience with [Manifestation], [Programming], and [Quick-Hacks]¡ªbut it would work. And that¡¯s what mattered. I pushed myself up from the chair for the first time in what felt like forever, my digital bones creaking, joints popping. It was strange, feeling those sensations in Cyberspace, but it reminded me that even here, I was still tethered to my physical self in some ways. Taking a few steps away from the chair, I focused. I needed a mirror to see what I had created. ¡®A mirror... I need a mirror,¡¯ I repeated over and over in my mind, willing it into existence through sheer force of will. And¡­ Nothing. [Manifestation] kept failing, no matter how hard I tried to conjure one up. The euphoria that had carried me through the coding process began to dry up as the weight of my limitations settled back in. I was still at the beginning of this journey, barely grasping the fundamentals. The reality check stung, but it was a reminder of how much further I had to go. Swallowing my pride, I turned towards Kill Joy, ¡°Can... Can you make me a mirror, please?¡± His smug expression almost made me want to jump at him and strangle his golden throat, but the full-sized mirror popping into existence next to me was enough appeasement to prevent me from doing so¡ªfor now. ¡®Alright, here goes nothing,¡¯ I thought, turning my attention back to my avatar. I focused on the code I had altered and the visualisation of what I wanted to manifest. ¡®Full trust, Sera. You¡¯ve done everything you can¡ªnow it¡¯s time to will it into existence.¡¯ I took a deep breath and focused harder, pushing my intent forward, letting it flow into the code that I had painstakingly altered. For a brief second, nothing happened. Then, like a ripple in a pond, I felt the code begin to shift, aligning itself with the vision I had manifested. It was subtle at first¡ªa flicker here, a slight shimmer there¡ªbut I could feel it taking hold, like pieces of a puzzle slowly falling into place. Lines of the old code started dissolving, being replaced bit by bit with the new sections I had crafted. It was an almost tangible sensation, like watching the scaffolding of my own body crumble and be rebuilt before my very eyes. The edges of my avatar¡¯s form blurred, warping and changing as the transformation took root. First, my hair¡ªdarker, longer, cascading down my shoulders like the midnight-black strands speckled with stars, galaxies and nebulas I had visualised. Then, the features of my face began to shift, sharpening slightly, taking on a more mature, defined look. It wasn¡¯t a dramatic change, but it was enough to feel more like the person I wanted to be, more in line with the image of myself I had carried with me all this time. Next came the outfit. The simple, default avatar clothing I had worn until now started to dissolve, replaced by the cloak I had imagined. It unfurled around me, a dark, sturdy material that seemed to ripple with a life of its own, the oversized hood draping over my head and fully covering my face in pure darkness save for my emerald eyes that looked like they glowed from the inside, just as I had envisioned. The bandoliers, filled with gadgets and weapons, materialised across my chest, and I could feel the¡ªstrangely¡ªfamiliar weight of a pistol at my side, the familiar handle of an energy-blade hanging off my belt. Then came the final touch¡ªthe cyan-feathered wing. It emerged from beneath the cloak, breaking through it seamlessly, without ripping the fabric itself, adding an element of mystery to the entire look. As it appeared, I felt a strange sense of completion wash over me. I stared at the mirror, barely recognizing the person standing in front of me. Yet, at the same time, it felt right. It felt like me. Or rather: The me that I needed to become in this world. Kill Joy floated around me, arms crossed, his golden form shimmering in the dim digital light. He eyed my avatar with an expression that was hard to place¡ªpart pride, part begrudging respect, and, of course, a heavy dose of straight up irritation. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± he drawled, his voice dripping with that familiar mix of sarcasm and smugness. ¡°Looks like the girl managed to crack the code after all. Colour me surprised. And here I was, expecting you to be banging your head against that wall for at least another week or two... Perhaps there is more to you than I initially thought¡­? Though let¡¯s not get too carried away here.¡± He circled me slowly, inspecting every detail of the avatar I had manifested. His eyes lingered on my hair and the lone, cyan wing for a moment longer than the rest, before he finally gave a short nod of approval¡ªan acknowledgment that, coming from him, felt almost monumental. ¡°You know,¡± he continued, his tone still smug but with a hint of genuine respect, ¡°this shard wasn¡¯t designed for people to speed-run it. You¡¯ve blazed through it in what? A couple of weeks? Most take months¡ªif not longer¡ªto reach this stage; much less clear it in a single day. Granted, few of them get this much of an involved and spectacular version of myself,¡± he added quickly, waving a dismissive hand as if to downplay my success with his mere presence. ¡°But still, credit where it¡¯s due, I guess. You¡¯ve managed to do what most can¡¯t, girl. In record time, no less. Well¡­ not actual record time, obviously¡ªlet¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves here. But fast enough that I might consider you¡­ half-decent. For now, at least.¡± He floated in front of me, looking me square in the eye. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, girl, you¡¯ve got potential. Maybe not as much as me¡ªobviously¡ªbut you¡¯re not as hopeless as I first thought. And that avatar you¡¯ve pieced together? It¡¯s a half-way decent start. To be honest, it¡¯s one of the best I¡¯ve seen when it comes to a first try. But there¡¯s a lot more you can do, a lot further you can push it, but¡­ it¡¯s not bad. Not bad at all.¡± He gave a mock bow, as if to say, "Congratulations, you¡¯ve passed my little test." Then he straightened up, his expression shifting back to that familiar, slightly-annoyed smirk. ¡°But don¡¯t think this makes you some kind of prodigy. You¡¯ve barely scratched the surface of what manifestation can do; not to mention the other aspects of the shard that you definitely did not take the time to properly learn and internalise, no matter how good your test results were. Don¡¯t let your ego get too big now, alright, girl? Leave that to the experts¡ªlike me.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin despite myself. Coming from Kill Joy, that was about as close to a glowing review as I¡¯d ever get. ¡°Thanks¡­ I think,¡± I replied, shaking my head at his theatrics, but feeling genuinely happy with his words. ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t get all emotional on me,¡± he shot back, waving off my gratitude like it was something distasteful. ¡°You¡¯ve done well enough here, I¡¯ll admit that much. But don¡¯t get comfortable. There¡¯s a lot more to learn, and it only gets harder from here. Still¡­¡± He floated back a bit, his eyes glinting with a rare, genuine spark of approval. ¡°For someone who showed up not knowing a damn thing, you¡¯ve definitely exceeded expectations, girl.¡± With an exaggeratedly lazy wave of his hand, a golden-coated data-shard appeared, drifting down toward me with the kind of slow, deliberate pace that only Kill Joy could pull off. ¡°Well, well, well¡­ I guess this is it for now," he said, drawing out each word like he was bored with the whole affair. "The promised segments, the subroutines¡ªthey¡¯re all in there," he added, pointing lazily at the shard, which finally landed in my hands. "They¡¯re yours for the taking, girl. Study them, analyse them, learn from them. Hell, maybe even try to understand them, if you¡¯ve got the brainpower.¡± He floated in circles around me, throwing up a hand with a dramatic flourish. ¡°These little bits of code? They¡¯ll be your building blocks, your key to cracking the surface of what Cyberspace and the digital world have to offer. But don¡¯t get too cocky, girl," he added with a smug grin. "The world¡¯s not nearly as generous as I am. It won¡¯t hesitate to chew you up and spit you out the moment you slip up.¡± Kill Joy paused for effect, floating closer with a mock-serious expression. ¡°If, however, you feel the need for further enlightenment¡ªor just want to bask in my radiant brilliance again¡ªyou¡¯re always welcome back. My door¡¯s always open. After all, who wouldn¡¯t want more of this?¡± He gestured to himself in a way that would¡¯ve made anyone else seem insufferable, but coming from him, it almost felt¡­ normal, in a strange way. ¡°But,¡± he continued, his voice lowering in what could only be described as a poor attempt at mystery, ¡°if you¡¯re looking to explore what the digital world really has in store for you, well, you¡¯ll need to find your way to an SPG-02 shard. I¡¯ll be there, of course¡ªwaiting. Just¡­ Try not to embarrass yourself when you show up, alright? Learn at least a few things before showing your face again? Please? I¡¯m good; but I¡¯m not a damn miracle worker.¡± With that, he leaned back, arms crossed, smirking like he''d just bestowed the greatest wisdom the world had ever seen. "Go on, then. Take it, girl. Don¡¯t say I never gave you anything¡­¡± Intermission 1 - All-Hands Conference PoV: Helica Adurin Passe "I want them dead! You hear me? DEAD!" Carinola''s voice shrieked through the room, echoing off the walls like nails on a chalkboard. They''d barely been discussing the incident on the 38th floor for thirty seconds before Carinola¡ªpredictably¡ªhad started losing her mind, screaming about her "precious son" being horribly maimed and humiliated. The Golden Phoenix needed to exact vengeance, she argued, launch a massive manhunt, make an example of whoever dared to touch their enforcers. Helica was already beyond tired of this meeting; which had started like so many others in recent months and years. The constant wailing about honour and respect was getting on her last nerve, especially because Carinola had that special kind of voice¡ªsharp and grating, like a buzzsaw to Helica¡¯s ears. And the worst part? They hadn¡¯t even gotten to the actual briefing yet. No one even knew what had truly gone down, because the idiot had derailed the whole thing before it could even start. ¡®I swear, I¡¯d be doing everyone a favour if I just shot her, right here and now,¡¯ Helica mused, her hand instinctively brushing the grip of her JRayoU pistol hidden beneath her skirt. The thought was tempting. So very tempting. She let her gaze wander around the room, silently calculating how things might play out if she actually stood up and put a bullet right between Carinola¡¯s hysterical eyes. ¡®Mark and Jonas?¡¯ She glanced at the two senior enforcers across the room. They¡¯d probably enjoy it, maybe even cheer her on. Her eyes slid to Liliana, who was also scanning the room with a similar look of detached boredom. Their eyes met, and for a brief second, Helica¡¯s sly smirk turned into a full-blown grin. ''Yeah, Liliana would definitely be down,'' Helica thought. The silent exchange was enough to confirm that her colleague was on the same wavelength¡ªboth of them clearly entertaining the same fantasy of shutting Carinola up for good. But, as satisfying as it would be, Helica knew they couldn''t actually pull it off. She and Liliana¡¯s gaze finally landed on the rest of the room, and it became obvious why. Bunoiro, Hakamade, Erica, and Juroshin would absolutely make a big fuss¡ªa headache neither Helica nor Liliana had any intention of dealing with. And, of course, there was the big boss himself at the end of the table: Orun Darake. The leader of the Golden Phoenix enforcers and second-in-command to their gang¡¯s elusive head. ¡®If only I could get Orun on my side one of these days¡­ we wouldn¡¯t have to deal with whiny children like this,¡¯ Helica thought ruefully, turning her attention back to the chaos unfolding in the room. "...two low-life whores! Two nobodies that have no right to exist!" Carinola¡¯s voice continued screeching, her tirade in full swing. Finally, Bunoiro, in all his gruff, no-nonsense glory, had clearly had enough. His gravelly voice cut through the air, grounding the room with an air of undeniable gravitas. ¡°If they were nobodies, how did your son lose his arm? How did they beat an entire group of junior enforcers and walk off without a scratch?¡± His words were sharp, and Helica couldn¡¯t help but smirk as Carinola¡¯s already furious face somehow managed to turn an even deeper shade of red. ¡°And even more importantly, dearest Cari,¡± Bunoiro added with a disgusted sneer, ¡°if they were nobodies, how did your useless son manage to lose one of our whitelisted guns?¡± That last line hit like a slap across the face. Helica nearly laughed at how brutal it was. But, to Carinola¡¯s credit¡ªone of the few things Helica could ever give her credit for¡ªshe didn¡¯t back down. The woman might¡¯ve been a shrieking harpy, but she had a backbone when she needed it. ¡°I had the recordings analysed three times, Buno,¡± Carinola answered, clearly trying her best to rein in her emotions and sound composed. Even she knew yelling at Bunoiro would only end badly. ¡°Our guys have no records of these two. Nothing! Not on any of our floors, not even outside Delta itself. They don¡¯t seem to belong to any other gang or corp we know of. So tell me, what are they if not nobodies? Are we seriously going to pretend random Operators are a real threat nowadays? We consider them people now; is that it? Hired muscle doing dirty jobs for Creds? Please, Buno, don¡¯t insult us by insinuating that.¡± Now that really caught Helica¡¯s attention. ¡®Two unknowns, huh?¡¯ Her curiosity sharpened. ¡®Potential new Operator contacts to gather? This is turning out to be more interesting than I thought...¡¯ Unlike most of the other Golden Phoenix enforcers, Helica didn¡¯t share the same disdain toward Operators. Quite the opposite, really¡ªshe found them resourceful, downright charming even. And more importantly, they were useful. After all, Operators didn¡¯t care about allegiances. They could be hired by anyone, no strings attached. No need for a name, a face, or any pesky personal details. A sly thought crossed her mind. ¡®Maybe I could hire them to deal with this screeching harpy... wouldn¡¯t that be something?¡¯ Just then, Jonas broke the tense silence. ¡°Show. Recording.¡± His voice, as always, was clipped and to the point. The man was practically allergic to conversation, but his mastery of cybernetics more than made up for his lack of words. Helica leaned back in her chair, a wicked grin tugging at her lips as she continued to observe the meeting unfold, playing with the idea of having Carinola killed; just for the fun of it. "I concur, I verily believe that the information presented so far leaves much to be desired," Liliana chimed in, her voice lilting and every bit as melodic as always. It was the other sort of voice that grated on Helica¡¯s nerves¡ªa kind of high-strung, overly regal tone that dripped with refinement, like she was constantly performing for an invisible audience. But that was Liliana. Juroshin, adjusting his clearly ornamental, antique glasses¡ªa fashion statement more than anything functional¡ªcleared his throat as if to remind everyone of his presence. "Given the current situation with the corporations outside the megabuildings," he began, voice measured and precise, "it would be prudent to focus on maintaining internal stability. I recommend a full investigation into this incident. Only after we have all the facts should we even consider taking further action." Helica nearly rolled her eyes. They were all just waiting their turn to say something, parading their opinions like they were the only sane voice in the room. Before more of them could chime in, however, Helica was saved as Orun finally spoke up. His voice was as calm and level as ever, betraying nothing of his thoughts¡ªhis face just as unreadable. That was Orun for you: Stoic, collected, practically robotic in every moment. If it weren¡¯t for the jagged scar running from his cheek to his collarbone¡ªan angry, festering wound that never quite healed¡ªHelica could¡¯ve sworn the man was one of the Master of Sword¡¯s very own creations. Orun wore that wound like a twisted badge of honour and shame alike, refusing to get it treated, letting it fester in the open for all to see. It was a reminder, both to himself and everyone else, that even he was fallible. "Carinola, sit," Orun commanded, his voice steady, but with a weight that made it impossible to disobey. Carinola immediately dropped back into her seat without so much as a peep. No one in the room¡ªHelica included¡ªwanted to make Orun repeat himself. "Now, provide everyone here with all the data you have," Orun continued, his tone unchanged. "We¡¯ll investigate this matter together and make a collective decision on the next steps. That is the purpose of this meeting." "Consider it done, High Talon," Carinola replied stiffly, her eyes glowing a sharp yellow as she began sharing the data. Helica¡¯s own interface pinged, a new window opening in the corner of her vision.
[Carinola Valir has requested data sharing privileges. Accept? Y/N]
She was more than ready to hit "no" the second the data request popped up, feeling like the whole meeting had been one giant waste of time and nerves. ¡®But then again¡­ Two unknown Operators in Delta taking out a whole band of junior enforcers, one of them armed and the firstborn of a senior¡­? If that isn¡¯t the kind of change-up I¡¯ve been dying for recently, then I really don¡¯t know what possibly could be.¡¯ With her curiosity piqued and a renewed sense of interest, Helica tapped "accept," watching as one of her link¡¯s partitions quickly filled with a barrage of pictures, text files, and recordings. She didn¡¯t even bother looking at the avalanche of data yet¡ªfirst things first. Absent-mindedly, she let her ICE run a scan, simultaneously engaging her usual Quick-Hack protocols to check for any daemons or sneaky backdoors. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t trust Carinola. Actually, no¡ªscratch that. It was exactly because she didn¡¯t trust Carinola. Then again, Helica didn¡¯t trust any data she hadn¡¯t personally swiped and reverified at least four times. That was just basic common sense, especially when dealing with backstabbing enforcers. As her protocols finished and, unsurprisingly, came back clean, she started organising the mess of data Carinola had so graciously dumped on her. ¡®Would it really kill anyone here to take a single lesson on data presentation? Honestly, this looks like the remnants of a fucking dump-hack in here; how is anyone supposed to get informed on a situation with this¡­?!¡¯ Helica shook her head, her fingers dancing across her interface as she rapidly organised the chaotic data dump Carinola had unleashed. With a few quick commands, she restructured everything: Images were tagged and categorised, video clips synced up by timestamp, and witness statements neatly cross-referenced with relevant footage. In under a minute, what had looked like a data grenade was now an easily readable, chronological breakdown of the event. ¡®Much better,¡¯ she thought smugly, admiring her handiwork for a split second before pushing the now-organised file straight into everyone¡¯s links. She didn¡¯t even bother waiting for approval from the others¡ªwho had time for that when you could just make everyone see it? As the data forcibly injected itself into each of their systems, she could practically feel the mixture of gratitude and annoyance ripple through the room. Several enforcers shot her dirty looks¡ªno one enjoyed having their privacy breached like that, not even amongst their own. Jonas, predictably, just grunted, probably too busy scrolling through the now neatly-organised files to care. Meanwhile, Liliana glanced up from her interface, lips pursed, but ultimately said nothing, her regal demeanour barely hiding her annoyance. Orun, however, fixed her with a long, knowing stare¡ªthe kind of look that clearly said, ¡°How many times have I told you to stop breaching into other people¡¯s links without consent?¡± Helica met his eyes with a cheeky grin, shrugging innocently before turning her attention back to the data. ¡®Old habits die hard,¡¯ she mused, unfazed by Orun''s silent reprimand. Now that the information was properly sorted and presented, she scrolled through the detailed timeline of the incident. Everything from camera angles to witness statements painted a much clearer picture of what had gone down on the 38th floor. The first thing that immediately grabbed Helica¡¯s attention was the camera footage from the front of the gun store, showing the two unknown individuals casually strolling up to it. Her curiosity kicked into overdrive, and she instinctively zoomed in to get a better look at their faces and gear. ¡®Huh¡­?¡¯ She blinked, taken aback by what she saw. ¡®They¡¯re just¡­ kids?!¡¯ Helica had expected Carinola¡¯s precious son to have been taken down by some serious heavy-hitters¡ªmaybe a pair of battle-hardened Operators or at least some seasoned mercs. But no. What she saw were just two girls, casually walking arm-in-arm toward the gun store, one of them ranting about some horrendous-looking shoes in a way that was almost¡­ endearing in its obvious and terrible attempts at making them fit in. One of them seemingly hadn¡¯t even bothered to hide her feelings properly¡ªher face giving away every thought that crossed her mind as she half-considered following up on the other¡¯s sarcastic suggestion to actually buy the shoes. The whole scene was downright absurd, with the second girl clearly just making small talk to blend in as they approached. ¡®What the actual fuck am I even watching right now?¡¯ Helica thought, her fingers massaging her temples to stave off the oncoming headache. ¡®We¡¯re having an all-hands-on-deck High Enforcer meeting over this? Two girls who can¡¯t even mask their approach properly, while there¡¯s an actual war brewing outside?!¡¯Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The silence in the room was broken by Jonas, in his typical blunt, cut-off way, proving to Helica immediately that she wasn¡¯t the only one with these thoughts. ¡°Is this joke¡­?¡± he grunted, his mechanical voice modulator making him sound even more unimpressed than usual. ¡°Two girls, Carinola. They. Girls. You fucking us?¡± Bunorio jumped in right after, clearly irritated. ¡°Yeah, is this what you¡¯ve been screaming about for the last half hour, Cari? Two kids wandering into a gun store? Is that what caused this entire mess? I know you have a penchant for the theatrical but this is fucking ridiculous. Don¡¯t waste our time like this, when we have way more important business to discuss!¡± Helica could practically hear the disbelief and anger dripping from his words, and she couldn¡¯t help but grin a little as Carinola¡¯s face flushed a deeper shade of red. It was always satisfying to see the harpy get called out for overreacting. ¡®Honestly, this entire meeting felt like a waste of time from the very start,¡¯ she thought, leaning back in her chair, ready to let the others tear Carinola apart. But then Liliana spoke up, surprising everyone, especially Helica. ¡°I must interject,¡± Liliana began, her voice as smooth and melodic as always, but with a sharpness that Helica hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°While it may appear on the surface that these are mere girls¡ªhardly worth our collective attention¡ªI would ask that we look a little deeper before drawing such hasty conclusions.¡± She adjusted her pristine, already perfectly flowing clothes, her expression utterly unreadable as always. ¡°There is something¡­ intriguing about this whole scenario. Something that demands our attention beyond the obvious.¡± Helica blinked rapidly. ¡¯Liliana¡¯s actually defending Carinola¡­? Am I losing it completely now¡­?¡¯ That was unusual. Beyond unusual, even. Liliana was somebody that stayed disgustingly neutral, playing both sides until she figured out where the advantage was before then slightly nudging her support into that direction; but always making sure she had a way to back out again, should things go against her. For her, of all people, to suddenly take Carinola¡¯s side directly and even go as far as to openly defend her in a High Enforcer meeting, meant there was something more going on here¡ªsomething massive that Helica hadn¡¯t caught onto yet. Liliana continued, her words flowing with a regal grace that made everyone in the room pause. ¡°The latter half of the data package presents some rather¡­ curious details, if I do say so myself. Things that, at a glance, might be dismissed, but upon closer inspection, warrant further scrutiny.¡± Helica¡¯s interest was now thoroughly piqued again. She flicked her gaze back to the data package, intrigued now. What had Liliana spotted that she hadn¡¯t? The rest of the room fell quiet, waiting for Liliana to elaborate. Even Bunorio, who had been all but ready to write off the entire situation as a colossal waste of time, paused. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as they tracked Liliana¡¯s movements, as if trying to figure out whether she was in on some private joke at his expense. Liliana meanwhile, ever the performer, took her time pulling the relevant files from her cybernetic link, her fingers dancing in the air as she carefully extracted the information. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she projected the files into the centre of the room, casting a series of holographic images, witness testimonies, and one grainy video onto the table for all to see. ¡°The testimonies of the junior enforcers,¡± she began, her voice melodic, ¡°and the only available recording from the singular camera in the alleyway behind the firearm establishment.¡± The room leaned in, curious. Even Carinola, who had been seething at being questioned just moments earlier, was now focused, eager to let Liliana¡¯s findings do the talking for her with a frog-like, smug smile plastered on her face; only to have it freeze a mere instant later as Liliana continued her rundown, showcasing one of the junior enforcer¡¯s testimonies. ¡°While our enforcers had every right to question these two girls based on their suspicious behaviour,¡± she started, casting a brief but sharp glance in Carinola¡¯s direction, ¡°the manner in which they approached the situation left much to be desired. Forcing themselves on two seemingly harmless individuals in a manner this reckless and, frankly, disgusting¡­¡± Her words trailed off, but the disapproval was unmistakable. Liliana waved her hand again, and a different testimony floated into view. "As much as I find the enforcers¡¯ actions... worthy of severe reprimand, let¡¯s move on to what I truly wish to discuss." She cleared her throat, her eyes briefly flitting to the video that hovered in the air. ¡°Listen to this,¡± she said, her voice now taking on a less refined tone; as she was reading out the first testimony. ¡°¡®The attack came so fast, I couldn¡¯t even see it. I swear; I was looking right at her; didn¡¯t even blink!¡¯¡± She let that hang in the air for a moment before reading another. ¡°¡®She was so fast, Damien couldn¡¯t even pull the trigger before he realised what was happening. One moment they were standing there, the next, she was holding his arm.¡¯¡± Even Bunorio, the eternal sceptic, straightened a bit at that. The room collectively shifted, now thoroughly intrigued. ¡°Now, considering that these junior enforcers weren¡¯t exactly complete nobodies fresh out of training¡ªand one of them had a whitelisted firearm, no less¡ªyou¡¯d expect them to have had the upper hand against... well, children,¡± Liliana drawled, dragging out the last word with just the right amount of disdain. ¡°But they didn¡¯t. And more than one of them described the same thing¡ªa speed they couldn¡¯t even comprehend.¡± She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the room. "Now, it''s one thing to hear these claims from a bunch of junior enforcers trying to save face¡ªlikely exaggerating the story to avoid getting ridiculed. But if I were the one reporting this... well, I imagine it¡¯d carry a bit more weight." A thin smile crossed her lips as she waved her hand over the floating data. "Fortunately for us, we have something a tad bit more impartial at our disposal." Liliana enlarged the projection containing the alley¡¯s security footage, then gestured for the others to pay close attention. The grainy video feed flickered to life, the timestamp indicating it had captured the moments right before the incident. The angle was far from perfect¡ªpositioned far behind the two girls, at the mouth of the alleyway looking inwards, leaving their faces fully obscured and the more minute interactions hard to track. What was visible, however, were Damien and the rest of the junior enforcers, all perfectly positioned, with one standing a few metres behind the second girl, cutting off any chance of an easy escape. Damien had his gun raised¡ªmere centimetres from the first girl''s face. The girl with the VoniX-black hair. Helica couldn¡¯t help but snort to herself at the sight. ¡®VoniX-black hair?¡¯ Ridiculous as a colour choice, but undeniably intriguing. VoniX-black wasn¡¯t just some casual dye job you picked up at a street stall¡ªit was exclusive, absurdly expensive for a hair-dye, and far too impractical to wear unless you wanted to make a statement. It didn¡¯t help that her clothes were similarly pristine looking, as if they had just been freshly tailored to fit her very form. The aramid-synthweave was visible to Helica¡¯s eyes immediately, pointing towards the fact that the girl definitely came prepared for a potential fight. Whoever this girl was, she wasn¡¯t some random kid off the street. That much was immediately obvious. ''So what the fuck are you, then, girl¡­?¡¯ Helica wondered, her curiosity continuing to grow by the second. Something was definitely off here. The footage showed Damien and the girls exchanging words, though the camera was too far away to pick up any of it. Still, the tension in their postures, the stiffness in Damien¡¯s arm, and the way the girl with the VoniX-black hair leaned slightly forward made it clear that whatever they were discussing wasn¡¯t casual. This wasn¡¯t a simple stop-and-frisk. Then, she stepped forward¡ªbold as you please¡ªdeliberately pressing her forehead against the barrel of Damien¡¯s gun in a show of pure defiance. Helica felt the air in the room change as everyone leaned in, their eyes glued to the screen. There was something in the girl¡¯s stance, a sort of unspoken message that said she was about to act. More words were exchanged, then¡­ Suddenly, the conference room fell into stunned silence. Damien¡¯s arm was no longer holding the gun. It was in the girl¡¯s hand instead¡ªsevered at the elbow. The entire move had happened so fast, no one had even registered it until they saw his limb dangling in her grip. Liliana wasted no time. She immediately rewound the footage, playing the moment over again. ¡°Pay close attention,¡± she said, her voice calm but underpinned with her usual regal authority. She slowed the recording to individual frames, offering a play-by-play of what had just unfolded. In an instant, the VoniX-black haired girl had grabbed Damien¡¯s arm. Simultaneously, a flash of silver appeared¡ªshe had drawn a combat knife from beneath her coat. The blade was impossibly sharp, slicing through his arm with a speed that almost defied the recording itself. Even in slow motion, the movements blurred, the knife cutting with far more efficiency than any normal weapon should have. It didn¡¯t make sense. Helica''s intrigue boiled over. She couldn¡¯t sit still anymore. She tapped into her cerebral link, her mind racing rapidly as she began upscaling the camera¡¯s output to get a clearer look. The blur was bothering her, and she was too curious to let it slide. At the same time, half her mind was already syncing into the 38th floor¡¯s cyberspace, scouring nearby sensors and security cameras for any additional angles. She was glad to have splurged on her link just a month before, allowing her to split off her consciousness like this without any adverse effects; as long as the cyberspace didn¡¯t end up demanding too much of her resources, of course. The conference room was deathly quiet as everyone watched the slowed-down footage on loop. For once, no one had anything to say. Helica muttered under her breath as she worked. ¡®Who are you, girl¡­ and where the fuck did you suddenly come from?¡¯ As the stunned silence ebbed away, the room erupted into a flurry of voices. Conversations broke out, with members of the group falling into distinct factions. Some, like Bunorio, demanded immediate explanations, their voices edged with disbelief and frustration. ¡°How the fuck does a kid even move like that?¡± Bunorio growled, his gravelly voice cutting through the room like a saw. ¡°This is impossible. Are we seriously going to believe some random girl just sliced through Damien¡¯s arm like butter?¡± Others, like Juroshin, were more analytical, trying to piece together the information as if they were solving a puzzle. ¡°The weapon is likely modified¡ªperhaps some form of vibro-weaponry. While we can¡¯t see the typical distortions on the recording; it could simply be the camera lacking the detail to show it. The speed could be cyber-enhanced reflexes, though¡­ It is far too fast for simple enhancements.¡± He let those words ruminate inside the room; not deigning them any further attention. Meanwhile, a third group simply remained silent, absorbed in their own thoughts. Helica noticed Orun was among them, as always, his eyes narrowed, fingers steepled beneath his chin, the scar along his jawline twitching slightly. He hadn¡¯t spoken since the footage had played, and that alone was enough to make Helica pay closer attention to his reaction. Orun was always the last one to really utter his thoughts; preferring to take in everyone else¡¯s first, in order to fully chew through a topic before making a decision. As High Talon, it was his job to be impartial like that, after all. But she was certain that even if he wasn¡¯t High Talon, Orun would not have acted any differently¡ªit was in his nature to be methodical and brooding. Liliana, in contrast to the rest of the room, seemed almost serene, like she had anticipated this outcome all along. She let the flurry of conversations die down before gracefully stepping forward, reclaiming control of the room with an air of unshakable confidence. ¡°Now,¡± she began, her voice cutting through the murmurs with ease, ¡°there are, of course, a myriad of potential explanations for what we¡¯ve just seen. But as our dear Carinola mentioned earlier, the information was analysed multiple times. The recording itself hasn¡¯t been altered, nor was the camera faulty in any way. However, one key aspect stands out: The girl in question only exhibited this rapid movement once¡ªright at the start of the altercation. After that, she fought like a scrappy amateur, much more in line with her age and appearance, if we assume some prior corporate-level training, and didn¡¯t move anywhere near as fast again.¡± Liliana let the footage play out past the initial strike, revealing the full brawl between the two girls and the junior enforcers. The fight, though chaotic, looked far more grounded¡ªbrutal, but not extraordinary. The black-haired girl hadn¡¯t displayed the same lightning-fast speed again, and the scuffle quickly turned into a mess of fists, blades, and blood, with the junior enforcers scrambling to keep up. ¡°This leads me to a few conclusions,¡± Liliana continued, her eyes sweeping over the room. ¡°The girl is using some form of experimental tech that allows her to move at extraordinary speeds, but only in short bursts. It¡¯s akin to speedware, but we¡¯d be foolish to jump to such wild conclusions. A girl of her age, equipped with top-tier speedware? That would be beyond unprecedented¡ªstraight up unthinkable; especially here inside Delta.¡± She paused, allowing the implications of her words to settle in. ¡°However, whatever the case, I find this incident thoroughly intriguing nevertheless.¡± Liliana clasped her hands in front of her. ¡°I propose two motions: First, we vote on whether to reprimand and punish the junior enforcers for their reckless and disgusting behaviour around these girls and, more importantly, for losing a whitelisted firearm. Their handling of the situation was¡­ less than satisfactory. Second, I suggest we investigate these two girls further, especially the black-haired one. She¡¯s clearly not some random street kid. I suspect she¡¯s connected¡ªeither to another gang or possibly to a corporation trying to move in on our territory. Either way, we need more info.¡± The room fell quiet again, Liliana¡¯s words hanging in the air. Helica was beyond perplexed by this order of events; but the giddiness inside of her, that was ecstatic about the sudden change in the status quo, was pushing her towards making potentially bad decisions. After all, Liliana rarely spoke so directly, much less pushing for any kind of motion herself¡ªthe junior enforcers had thoroughly pissed her off with their behaviour, it seemed; the girl with the black hair also managing to garner her regal attention. A round of conversation broke out in response to Liliana¡¯s proposed motions¡ªCarinola being predictably the loudest, but the rest of the High Enforcers had plenty to say as well. Helica, however, was too deep in cyberspace to care about any of it. Her search was mostly turning up garbage¡ªuseless data dumps, encrypted nonsense, and dreck clogging up her feed. It was frustrating, and without fully diving into cyberspace with her full attention, she had to put up with sorting through it manually after-the-fact. She would have to filter out the junk later, but for now, half of her link was committed to the search, while the other half worked on upscaling the available recordings. At least there was progress on that front. She had managed to clean up the footage enough to pick out more detail on the two girls and how the fight had gone down. ¡®She wasn¡¯t trying to kill them at all¡­ just as I thought,¡¯ Helica mused as she watched the black-haired girl purposefully put herself in harm¡¯s way, inflicting non-lethal injuries on the junior enforcers instead of going for the easy kill. She definitely could have; the skill was there, evident in her quick, calculated movements. ¡®The question is, why? What¡¯s her game¡­?¡¯ Just as she stumbled on something potentially useful in cyberspace, Orun¡¯s voice cut through the noise, pulling her back to the meeting. When the High Talon spoke, even Helica knew better than to ignore him. ¡°Here¡¯s my decision: There will be no votes,¡± he began, dropping a bombshell. The Golden Phoenix was predominantly governed through majority votes, even among the higher-ups, though the High Talon and the Master of Swords held the final say. For Orun to bypass the usual process like this was far from normal. It was rare for either him or the boss to use their absolute authority at all; much less this openly. ¡°Liliana,¡± he continued, his cold gaze locking onto the smiling woman at his right, ¡°choose two other Talons and investigate these girls. I want names, allegiances, and a full threat assessment by the end of the week¡ªat the latest.¡± Orun shifted his gaze to Bunoiro and added, ¡°Buno, discipline the Junior Claws involved. Their behaviour was disgraceful and doesn''t reflect the standards of the Golden Phoenix. They were lucky to get off with just a few bruises. That black-haired one let them live on purpose, only giving them a bloody nose¡ªor stump.¡± Bunoiro gave a nod, his face a mix of frustration and understanding. He moved to stand, ready to handle the situation, but Orun stopped him with a raised hand. ¡°And Buno,¡± Orun said, his tone sharp, ¡°do not go easy. Make it a lesson, not a reminder.¡± ¡°Understood, High Talon,¡± Bunoiro replied, excusing himself as he left the room with a grim look. Orun¡¯s attention shifted back to the rest of the group. ¡°You all have your orders. Follow them, and make sure the Golden Phoenix''s name remains respected. If any of you gather additional intel on these girls, however small, collaborate with Liliana and her task force. I expect a full briefing at the next meeting. Dismissed.¡± Just like that, the meeting was over, leaving Helica momentarily stunned. She had barely scratched the surface of her findings, and the meeting was wrapped up already? Before she could fully process the abrupt conclusion, Orun dropped one final bombshell that caught her completely off guard. ¡°Liliana, if you make direct contact with either of those girls and they don¡¯t belong to anyone yet... try to recruit them.¡± Helica''s eyes widened, and she wasn''t alone. The entire room seemed to pause as they all registered Orun¡¯s surprising words. For the High Talon to personally suggest recruiting someone was unheard of, at least in Helica¡¯s experience. As everyone began filing out, Helica quickly moved beside Liliana, whispering, ¡°I¡¯d like to be part of this, Lil.¡± Liliana gave her a regal smile, one eyebrow raised. ¡°I know you do. But what¡¯s it worth to you?¡± Helica¡¯s mind had been working overtime, processing both the meeting and her cyberspace deep dive. A grin slowly spread across her face as she finished unwrapping a particular recording she¡¯d found towards the end of the two girls'' time on the 38th floor. ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ You can¡¯t afford not to include me, if you want results by the end of the week,¡± Helica said, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips. With a flick of her fingers, she injected the first few seconds of the newly found recording straight into Liliana''s link¡­ Chapter 94 - First Project The digital world dissolved around me as I exited the confines of the SPG-01 shard and returned to reality, still lying comfortably on my bed. I could barely contain the giddy excitement bubbling up inside me¡ªI had finally finished the shard! Although ¡°finally¡± was likely the wrong choice of words here¡ªafter all, the shard was designed to last the better part of a year, if not a full year, and I had practically speedrun it in a matter of a few short weeks. That sense of accomplishment hit hard. Still, before diving into the shard Kill Joy had so ¡°generously¡± rewarded me with, I had to clear the System Notifications cluttering my vision.
[System]: 800xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: [Manifestation] Skill has reached Level 2. Knowledge and Muscle Memory download available. [System]: 400xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: Intellect Attribute has reached 4. Knowledge and Muscle Memory download available. [System]: 400xp gained for Intuition Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for Anima Attribute.
The sheer amount of experience I¡¯d gained for what felt like ¡°not much work¡± surprised me for a second, but it definitely made some amount of sense, when I thought about it for more than a brief instant. I had just ¡°cracked the code¡±, so to speak, on quite a number of fundamental ideas and then also implemented the very basics of those ideas into Cyberspace itself; altering my own Digital Ego to varying degrees of complexity. That the System was rewarding this level of mental growth with a similar amount of experience shouldn¡¯t come as much of a surprise; but when your first entire weeks had been spent slowly and painfully building experience drops one by one to get your Body to a state where it wasn¡¯t collapsing in on itself anymore, expectations were naturally ingrained in you. ¡®Don¡¯t mind if I do,¡¯ I thought with a goofy grin, eager to accept the downloads for both [Manifestation] and Intellect. But I was going to be a bit tactical about this; I decided to start with Intellect first. If my understanding of all things Intellect-related was about to expand anyway, I might as well do so before the other one as it could help me make more sense of whatever [Manifestation] Level 2 had in store for me. Closing my eyes and settling into a more comfortable position, I hit the confirmation for the [Intellect] download. Instantly, a smooth wave of information washed over me, fitting seamlessly into my existing knowledge. It wasn¡¯t chaotic or overwhelming¡ªmore like my brain was efficiently slotting in new pieces to complete a puzzle. Everything logic-related, such as [Programming], [Quick-Hacks], and [Manifestation] became clearer as the pathways inside my brain were rewired, with natural shortcuts and patterns emerging where they hadn¡¯t before. I felt like I wouldn¡¯t have to slog through endless lines of code anymore; I could instead see the connections and patterns almost instinctively, undoubtedly leading to faster solutions. Every thought related to netrunner tasks simply felt¡­ sharper. Intellect as an Attribute wasn¡¯t about raw intelligence, of course, but rather about identifying, understanding and applying logical concepts with more and more precision. By the time the download ended, I instinctively recognized that I had a clearer sense of how to work through logical challenges, layering patterns with solutions without having to analyse every little detail first, as I had before. My mind wasn¡¯t ultimately faster, but I could tell that the paths from problem to solution had become much more direct as a result. I shook my head, massaging my temples as the sensation of my brain rewiring itself finally began to subside. ¡®This can¡¯t be healthy, right¡­?¡¯ I thought, wincing at the idea of what this was doing to my body on a physical level. ''What would a doctor say if I told them about the System literally rewiring my brain on the regular? I really hope this isn¡¯t setting me up for cancer or something. How tragic would that be¡ªgetting a second chance at life¡ªwith a bloody System no less!¡ªonly to find out that very System is a glorified brain-cancer machine¡­?¡¯ I gave it a few moments of thought, but as usual, I landed on the same conclusion I¡¯d reached a dozen times before: There wasn¡¯t anything I could actually do about it. I wasn¡¯t about to stop using the System¡ªthe only real advantage I had in this world¡ªjust because it might be messing with me in ways I couldn¡¯t fully control. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like I even knew if I had the option to stop. Sure, the System let me schedule the downloads at my convenience for now, but there was no guarantee it wouldn¡¯t force them on me if I waited too long. It had done it before, back when I first woke up in this world, and again with the last Task Reward that timed out. The System wasn¡¯t above forcing itself on me¡ªas horrible as that thought sounded in my head¡ªit had proven so time and again. ¡®Please don¡¯t give me cancer,¡¯ I thought, sending a quick, silent prayer to whatever entity was in charge of this strange System. With that, I hit the confirm button on the [Manifestation] Level 2 download. The download kicked in, and instantly, a new wave of knowledge washed over me. It wasn¡¯t as overwhelming as the first level¡ªthis time, the concepts settled in a lot more naturally; my gambit with the Intellect download coming first definitely helped process the torrent of information and contextualise them more seamlessly. Not to mention, the basics were already in place from the Level 1 download earlier, so now it was just about building on that foundation. Level 2 of [Manifestation] shifted from simply understanding that I could impose my will onto Cyberspace to diving a bit deeper into how it actually worked in practice. It wasn¡¯t just about creating objects in a space of my own design anymore; it was about modifying and altering the existing code in Cyberspace¡ªcode that wasn¡¯t mine, to begin with. Essentially, [Manifestation] was like breaking into someone else¡¯s carefully constructed system, and then rewriting pieces of it in a way that bent to my will. It further reinforced the idea that I had used earlier at Kill Joy¡¯s request, that when I manifest something in a space I didn¡¯t control, I wasn¡¯t truly adding any new elements at all. Instead, I was merely modifying what was already there, bending and reshaping the underlying code that existed within Cyberspace. The more intricate the space I was in, the more delicate this process became, as everything was already woven together into a specific structure by its original creator. I got the sense that manifesting things in a space I controlled was going to be far, far simpler as a result. But altering things within someone else¡¯s system¡ªwell, that required some serious finesse; and now I also understood the reasoning for why that was the case. It essentially meant breaching their code first, understanding it intrinsically and then inserting my intent without breaking the rest of the system or tripping any fail-safes while subtly rewriting it to reflect what I wanted. The muscle memory that accompanied the download further solidified these ideas. I didn¡¯t receive any real ¡°muscles¡± in the traditional sense, but there wasn¡¯t exactly a more apt description for the idea of gaining specific ingrained sequences to use, that would make the actual manifestation part of [Manifestation] easier; the part that came when the breaches were complete and all the edits had been made¡ªthe part where the Anima had to be injected alongside my own Will to enact the change I coded. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but with enough practice, it knew that it would be damn close. By the time the download finished, I felt like I¡¯d just been thrown through one of those weird LSD-trip sequences you¡¯d see in bad 90s TV shows. My senses were all out of whack, like I could almost hear colours around me, as if my brain was trying to recalibrate after being submerged in this bizarre world of Anima and [Manifestation]. ¡®Damn¡­ even just [Manifestation] at Level 2 is hitting way harder than something like [Meditation] at Level 4,¡¯ I groaned internally, rubbing my temples in a vain attempt to ease the pounding headache. ¡®Why do some Skills suck up so many resources, while others are basically a free ride¡­?¡¯ There had to be some kind of balance in the System, something I wasn¡¯t seeing yet. Maybe it was tied to how these Skills were governed. But aside from the rarity differences that could easily be gauged by the amount of governing Attributes, the original Neon Dragons game had no differentiation between Skills. There weren¡¯t different Tiers of them or anything along those lines, so the vast difference in the amount of exhaustion caused by the downloads sent me for a bit of a loop. While it was possible that I was simply not built for Anima-related stuff, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was something more to the fact that those Skills governed by the Anima Attribute were particularly tough on my head. I thought about it for a bit longer, but with the headache building, I figured it was better to table the whole thing for now. Definitely not the best time to be diving into deep thoughts when my brain felt like it was about to implode. Instead, I opened my cerebral interface and navigated straight to the SPG-01 shard¡¯s menu. Time to claim my reward: Kill Joy¡¯s basic set of Subroutines and Segments. The past few weeks of constant netrunning had definitely been a mental workout, but this? This made it all worth it. Finally getting my hands on a solid set of Quick-Hacks to experiment with was the payoff I¡¯d been waiting for. I opened up the vault¡ªthe golden shard that Kill Joy had tossed me in Cyberspace¡ªand my eyes widened at what lay inside.
[==Golden Reward Shard - ¡°Kill Joy¡¯s Vault¡± - SPG-01 Completion ==] [Subroutine: Shield] (Tier 1) [Subroutine: Data-Blade] (Tier 1) [Subroutine: Spike] (Tier 1) [Segment Subject: Layer] (Pseudo Tier 1) Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.[Segment Subject: Person] (Pseudo Tier 1) [Segment Verb: Open] (Pseudo Tier 1) [Segment Verb: Search] (Pseudo Tier 1) [Segment Adjective: Careful] (Pseudo Tier 1) [Segment Adjective: Reckless] (Pseudo Tier 1)
I had expected maybe one measly Subroutine and a few basic Segments. But there were a whopping three Subroutines and two of each type of Segment: Subject, Verb, and Adjective. It was a veritable treasure trove! Way more than I had thought I¡¯d be getting from these past weeks of marathon netrunning. A giddy giggle slipped out before I could stop it¡ªthe sheer excitement of diving into this code and figuring out how to tweak and write my own versions was hitting me hard. ''Thank you, Kill Joy,'' I thought, sending a little mental gratitude his way¡ªwherever the real guy was out there. The SPG-01 shard''s rewards were ultimately based on how well the instructor thought you performed, if they worked the same way as they had in the game, and it was clear that the digital version of Kill Joy was pretty damn impressed with me. I couldn¡¯t help but let a bit of ego creep in. I mean, why do well if you¡¯re not going to feel a little smug about it, right? Sure, it was just the absolute basics of netrunning, the starting point, but considering that a month ago, I didn¡¯t even know what "netrunning" meant outside of gaming videos and wiki entries? I¡¯d say I did pretty damn well for myself; thank you very much. Of course, I was conveniently overlooking the fact that the System had a lot to do with my success. But hey, if it was going to hitch a ride and force its influence on me, I figured I could claim its help as my own victories as well. Quid pro quo, right? Buzzing with excitement, I dove headfirst into my new treasure trove, starting with the first Subroutine¡¯s code. Ripping open the virtual gift-wrapping on Subroutine: Shield was surreal, to say the least. The deck that had been running the SPG-01 shard since my little netrunning burnout incident seamlessly connected with my cerebral link, launching a miniature Cyberspace development environment. It was like the one I had set up back in the shard, but this time, it was happening in real-time in my own room. The weirdest part? It wasn¡¯t fully here¡­ or maybe I wasn¡¯t fully there? I couldn¡¯t quite tell. I was perceiving both the real world and the digital Cyberspace environment simultaneously. It was like having an opaque filter over my eyes, where I could shift my focus and tune in to one or the other as I pleased. If I concentrated on my actual surroundings, the Cyberspace window faded to almost nothing¡ªjust faint outlines and colours bleeding into the edges of my vision. But the moment I shifted my attention back to the CDE (Cyberspace Development Environment), it took over, and the room around me became a distant backdrop, almost like a shadow of reality. "Neat," I muttered to myself, playing around with how seamlessly I could switch between the two worlds and quickly found that the deck was doing a tremendous amount of interpretation work as it tried to figure out and provide exactly the outcomes I was aiming for. When I looked at the wheelchair still next to my bed from all those weeks ago and focused intently on it, a replica of it appeared within the CDE mere moments later. Similarly, when I intently focused on only a small section of the CDE, it automatically ¡°minimised¡± the rest of it all, providing a small picture-in-picture-esque version of what I was looking at, overlaid over my actual vision of the room I was in. ¡®This is going to be very useful for long coding marathons!¡¯ I recognized happily, once again thankful for Misha¡¯s impeccable equipment. It turned out this deck was a lot better than I had originally thought! With a flick of my mental focus, I started setting up the CDE to feel more like my own. A comfy chair manifested for my digital self, cushioned just right for long coding sessions. I sank into it with a satisfied sigh and began to tweak the environment further. The first order of business was to fix the light-levels in the room. The brightness of it was way, way too much¡ªlike someone had set the thing to "nuclear blast mode." Why that would even be an option, I wouldn¡¯t dare to speculate, of course, but I¡¯m sure it was set to exactly that option. With another quick thought, I dimmed it down to something much more bearable, casting a soft, ambient glow around me. No good coder wanted to feel like they were being fucking flashbanged every time they opened their development environment, after all. Once the setup felt right, I focused on the task at hand: Delving into my very first Quick-Hack Subroutine¡ªSubroutine: Shield. The code popped up in front of me, lines and lines of text scrolling down like an ancient manuscript, written in the complex language of the digital world by Kill Joy¡¯s design: Cyber. I leaned in, cracking my fingers out of sheer habit¡ªeven though my digital self didn¡¯t really need to at all¡ªand started reading through it line by line. "Okay¡­ layers¡­ targets¡­ objects¡­" I started muttering to myself, letting the terms roll off my tongue as I familiarised myself with the structure of the code. The SPG-01 shard¡¯s lessons came flooding back to me one by one as I started picking out familiar functions and protocols from the last few weeks of my net running training marathon. There were sections of code that matched up almost 1:1 with what Kill Joy had gone over in specific sections of the shard, which gave me a massive boost of confidence in trying to understand this Subroutine¡¯s code. There was a certain satisfaction in recognizing these patterns, like cracking open an old textbook and finding out that, surprise, you¡¯d remembered more than you thought. I even went on to start marking areas down in my CDE with mental notes, drawing invisible circles around segments of the code I wanted to revisit or tweak later; just to see what they were about or how tweaks would interact with the Subroutine¡¯s function as a whole. The subroutine was complex, to say the least, but not impossibly so¡ªnot yet, at least. It was essentially a defensive Quick-Hack that, once activated, created a temporary digital shield around a target, preventing certain attacks or breaches from getting through. It was similar to the Persona-Shield Kill Joy had provided me with during the foray, but different in that it covered the whole target, like a coating of sorts. It, I instinctively knew, was a lot weaker in terms of overall protection though. A smaller area like the Personal-Shield could prevent a lot more data from penetrating through it than an all-encompassing bodysuit. But that wasn¡¯t all. At first glance, it seemed very straightforward, but the more I dug into the code, the more I realised how intricate it actually was. [Programming] wasn¡¯t just about writing a line that summoned the shield and calling it a day, after all. It had layers upon layers of contingencies, specific clauses on how it should react to different attacks, breach attempts or other Quick-Hacks and so, so much more. Time practically melted away as I delved deeper and deeper into the layers. I barely even noticed the hours slipping by, despite the fact that my room was always there, in the extremely dim opacity background; but everything else had faded into nothingness as my mind honed in on the logic threads that held this thing together. Before I knew it, the CDE had become my entire world. My brain was firing on all cylinders, piecing together how the subroutine was structured, where it could be optimised, and what potential I could unlock with a few tweaks here and there. It was an exhilarating feeling¡ªlike standing at the edge of a new discovery, just waiting to be cracked wide open; similar to how I had felt moments after my [Manifestation] breakthrough. Speaking of which, that new understanding of [Manifestation]¡ªespecially the download from hitting Level 2¡ªturned out to be a massive help in tackling some of the more intricate sections of the Subroutine. Particularly, the parts dealing with the Cyberspace-Layer made a lot more sense now. After about half an hour of pouring over the code, it had finally clicked: A lot of the programming in that section was about forcing a manifestation to happen. It made sense in hindsight, too. Quick-Hacks, after all, weren¡¯t just bits of code you threw at a target¡ªthey had to interact with Cyberspace in real time, meaning they needed a certain level of manifestation to even come into effect. I realised that Cyber, as a coding language, had been built with the fundamental truth that Anima wasn¡¯t just a side note or an afterthought¡ªit was baked into the very fabric of everything, even the digital realm. Without Anima, these hacks would be impossible inside Cyberspace. They¡¯d have to break down every layer of security, like the more traditional methods of hacking, where you brute force your way past firewalls and encryption before you can enact any changes. But with Anima, and the manifestation it allowed, the Quick-Hacks could simply bypass those barriers, reshaping the digital world directly without tearing the whole thing apart. It felt like slipping a trojan horse past the guards, only without the actual effort of bypassing any security¡ªyou just willed it to work. The more I delved into the code, the more I realised a truth that hit a little too close to home: Writing my own Subroutine was going to take a while. Even with [Programming Maestro] keeping me from getting stuck and [Spiritus Machina] providing those handy blueprints for stealth layers, I was still staring down a pretty big time sink. And with only three days until the meeting with Vega¡¯s Operator? Yeah, not great. Even if I skipped out on the Rest Function and buried myself in work outside my job at Mr. Shori¡¯s and the Dojo session I had coming up in two days, I¡¯d still only have enough time to write one Subroutine. And that¡¯s if everything went smoothly. I briefly thought about working on Segments instead. They were simpler individually, sure, but also way more abstract and mysterious compared to a full Subroutine. Even if I churned out a few of them, there was no guarantee they¡¯d come together into something impressive enough to catch an Operator¡¯s eye. Nah, my only real shot was to build a solid Subroutine from scratch; at least for this particular time frame until my first meeting. The question now was: What kind of Subroutine should I go for? Most of the ones I¡¯d seen in Neon Dragons were offensive¡ªstuff to mess with cybernetics, scramble cameras, break into networks, or steal data. Classic Quick-Hack material. There were defensive ones too, though they were harder to come by. I had one in front of me now, but the idea of impressing an Operator with a shield? Kinda underwhelming. Utility Subroutines, on the other hand, were more my speed. Things like Ping, where you could locate every device, including cybernetics currently being worn by those pesky gangers, connected to a network¡ªgreat for stealth, and even better for staying alive when walking into enemy territory. Sadly, Kill Joy hadn¡¯t left me with any utility-based Quick-Hacks to reverse-engineer. I¡¯d have to get one of those on my own later down the line. That left me with two real choices: Defensive or offensive. Writing a whole Subroutine from scratch? Yeah, not happening anytime soon. I needed something solid to build off of until I got some serious coding experience under my belt. ¡®Not much of a choice, really¡­¡¯ I sighed internally, my eyes drifting to the Spike Subroutine. Data-Blade was out of the question¡ªit was Cyberspace-only, and you couldn¡¯t exactly go around swinging data like a sword in the real world. As cool as that sounded, it wasn¡¯t an option for what I needed. Shield was useful, sure, but not the kind of thing that would wow an Operator. Defensive stuff rarely got the oohs and ahhs on first impression. Spike, though? Spike had potential. It wasn¡¯t exactly a masterpiece of coding, but it could definitely pack a punch. It was one of the most basic offensive Quick-Hacks¡ªa brute-force attack that threw a mountain of data at a target to overwhelm it. Think of it like the digital equivalent of a fireball. Pretty similar to that "Spark" move I had seen during the Cyberspace foray, but without the flashy, real-world flames. Most ICE had some kind of basic defence against a Spike Subroutine, but the beauty of it was that, with enough power behind your deck, you could just overwhelm the system anyway. It was simple, direct, and surprisingly effective. Nothing fancy, but it had the kind of raw impact that could make an Operator sit up and take notice; if you managed to make an efficient variant of it. ¡®Guess I¡¯ll just have to make a statement with this one,¡¯ I decided, closing out of the Shield Subroutine and switching over to Spike. If I was going to impress anyone, I had to work fast and efficiently¡ªno room to get bogged down in all the details of the other Segments and Subroutines right now. Those would have to wait until later when I had the time to really pick them apart. I might be skipping some valuable insights that could help with my work on ¡°Spike: Sera Edition,¡± but I couldn¡¯t spare the extra four or five hours that a deep dive into each one would take. With the Spike Subroutine open, I quickly created a second, blank Subroutine next to it¡ªmy canvas for creating a more refined version. I checked the time: 15:47. Still a few hours before Oliver or Gabriel would be back, which gave me a solid window to get knuckle-deep into this code. First step? Understanding how Spike worked on a fundamental level. I needed to know what made it tick, and where I could tweak or improve it. One area jumped out at me immediately: Stealth. Thanks to my [Spiritus Machina] Perk, which had been pretty dormant up until now, I could already think of at least two ways to make it harder for ICE to detect the Spike Quick-Hack. ¡®This is promising,¡¯ I thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. If I could transplant a good chunk of the code as-is and just fill in the gaps with [Programming Maestro] guiding me, this might actually work out. The System¡ªand especially its Perks¡ªwere going to be my ace in the hole for this whole project. ¡®I¡¯m counting on you, [Programming Maestro] and [Spiritus Machina]. Don¡¯t let me down now¡­!¡¯ With that, I started the tedious but necessary process of copy-pasting sections of Kill Joy¡¯s Spike Subroutine into my own version, focusing on the areas that were too complex for me to mess with just yet. The clock was ticking, but I knew this would take a while. Still, I had a plan, and with the System¡¯s help, I just might be able to pull it off¡­ Chapter 95 - Loaded Questions Gabriel¡¯s daily ¡°on my way home¡± message jolted me out of the coding zone with all the grace of a cold bucket of water. ¡®Huh¡­ Already¡­?¡¯ Checking the time, I felt my stomach drop a bit¡ªI¡¯d somehow already blown through five hours on just the first part of this Quick-Hack code. Figuring now was as good a time as any for a break, I logged out of the development environment, setting the deck aside on the nightstand. A long, careful stretch set off a whole chorus of crackles and pops in my back and neck, reminding me of the marathon session I¡¯d just put my body through. Between the stress of this morning¡¯s data drop, a thousand rounds at the shooting range, the alleyway brawl with Jade against the full-on crew of blanks, and five hours of barely moving while staring at code, I felt like I¡¯d been hit by a truck. ¡®My old life¡¯s doctors would¡¯ve had my head if they heard this rundown of why I¡¯m sore...¡¯ But, aches or not, I couldn¡¯t deny that the day had been worth it. I had rarely, if ever, gotten this much experience in such a short amount of time¡ªand made actual progress on the things I was trying to achieve, at the same time. Besides, with tonight¡¯s Rest Function, the pain would be history by morning. That is¡­ until I remembered tonight¡¯s Rest Function would be replaced by more coding. I¡¯d need every bit of time to finish the Quick-Hack in time. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to be a little more careful then, I guess¡­¡± I muttered, making my way to the kitchen. Dinner prep was easy tonight since I¡¯d brought some ramen from Mr. Shori¡¯s place again, giving me a bit of mental space to mull over the real question gnawing at me: ¡®What do I use this General Skill Point on?¡¯ I only had a few hours left before the System would go ahead and claim my Task rewards for this third data collection, automatically assigning the Skill Point to something random again, like it had with [Martial Arts] last time. Definitely not eager for another muscle-download blackout in front of the whole room, I figured I¡¯d be better off making a decision now before anyone else got home. At this point, I only really had a handful of realistic choices for where to put this Skill Point. With the Operator meeting practically around the corner¡ªand no more data-collection Tasks to rely on¡ªthis was my last ¡°free¡± point before the big event. So, whatever I chose, it had to make an impact. If I wanted to make a good impression on the Operator, I¡¯d need to focus on something directly related to my netrunner path. This meant looking at [Programming], [Netrunning], [Manifestation], or [Quick-Hacks]. I had already committed to presenting myself as a fledgling netrunner, so bulking up any of these could give me the boost I¡¯d need to stand out. The other routes? They were pretty much out of the question. I didn¡¯t have the gear, combat experience, or even the intimidating presence to be Muscle. The idea of being a Face or Blade? Also out¡ªno experience, no connections, no social skills to speak of, and definitely none of the ruthlessness required for being a Blade. Being a Runner was the only realistic option for me at this stage, but with my limited time remaining, the point had to count. The System gave me a crazy advantage, sure, but it wasn¡¯t exactly a god-mode switch. My Skills were still so raw that just keeping up with others was an achievement. Impressing? That was another thing entirely. On the other side, there were Skills that could directly sway the meeting itself¡ª[Intimidation], [Negotiation], [Appraise], and, weirdly enough, [Maid]. Each offered some edge in a conversation, whether by enhancing my social skills directly or giving me extra info I could leverage, depending on how things went down. The last group was more of a ¡°would-be-nice-to-have¡± lineup¡ªSkills that were either tough to train or ones I didn¡¯t even know where to start with. Stuff like [Slicing], [Jury-Rigging], and, as much as I hated to admit it, [Murder]. That last one was a staple in every build I¡¯d ever seen in Neon Dragons, and it wasn¡¯t hard to see why. Killing efficiently wasn¡¯t just passive in a world like this; it was practically necessary, and the benefits were huge. Whether I liked it or not, knowing how to take someone down without fumbling was as much of a survival skill here as something like [First-Aid] was. I opened my Skill Interface and started narrowing down options, knocking off Skills that were close to levelling up, locked by Attribute limits, or unlikely to make any real impact at the upcoming meeting or in the immediate future. When I finished, I was down to only a handful: [Manifestation], [Slicing], [Negotiation], [Jury-Rigging], and [Murder]. [Manifestation] stood out immediately. With everything I¡¯d recently learned, it was clear that this Skill was key for practically anything netrunner-related thanks to its ties with Cyber. Levelling it up to 3 would probably bring another knowledge download and, just as enticing, access to a Perk. But when I tried to view the Perk Tree, the System threw an error, basically telling me to get lost and check back later. ¡®What the¡­?¡¯ I¡¯d never been locked out of a Perk Tree before. Access to it was supposed to be a basic perk of levelling a Skill to 1. My only guess? It had something to do with the recent Anima integration. Maybe the System was reconfiguring the Perks, blending them into this new version of [Manifestation] that tapped into Anima as well as programming. So the System might take its time adjusting the Perks to handle both. But this uncertainty left me wondering if investing my point there now would be a waste. The Operator I was about to meet might not even be a netrunner to begin with, so banking on something as niche as [Manifestation] and its enigmatic Perks, that might not even be available right away, could backfire if the guy was more into muscle than code. Explaining Cyber to someone who only cared about the calibre of their gun or the circumference of their cybernetic arm¡¯s biceps wouldn¡¯t exactly win me any points. [Slicing] was quickly thrown out for similar reasons. Although useful for emergencies and general intel, it wouldn¡¯t do much in the short term. It was more of a Skill that¡¯d come in handy later down the line. That left [Negotiation], [Jury-Rigging], and, yeah, [Murder]. I was still dead-set against [Murder]¡ªboth the Skill and the act. I knew that, eventually, I¡¯d have to get over this reluctance. This world wasn¡¯t exactly big on respecting individual life, and I¡¯d have to toughen up if I wanted to make it as an Operator. But for now? With everything going on, I just wasn¡¯t in the right headspace to go down that road. I could see the potential in upping [Murder] through Skill Points¡ªthe Knowledge and Muscle Memory downloads would probably make future¡­ ¡°experience gains¡± in the Skill easier. But did I actually want that? No, absolutely not. If I was going to cross that line, it¡¯d be on my own terms, with a fully conscious decision, not as some byproduct of the System making me into a pre-programmed killer. ¡°Killing should always be a conscious choice,¡± I reiterated firmly to myself as I placed two empty bowls onto the table, shutting down the possibility of putting my Skill Point into [Murder] for good. That left just [Negotiation] and [Jury-Rigging]. [Jury-Rigging] was kind of the wildcard here. I hadn¡¯t really thought of it as a contender until I went through my Skills, trying to weed out anything that wouldn¡¯t really benefit from an investment. That¡¯s when I realised¡ªthis was one Skill I had almost no clue how to actually train. Sure, I¡¯d gained a little experience with it during one of my Data-Collection Tasks, but that had been a fluke, not something I could count on repeating. The whole point of [Jury-Rigging] was to make things work on the fly¡ªtaking random parts and creating quick fixes or real-life hacks to solve a problem on the spot. That¡¯s the kind of skill that would be invaluable in all kinds of situations, not just for an Operator. It could even be helpful at Mr. Shori¡¯s shop. Maybe I could rig up a solution to fix some of those chairs in the back, or boost the burners during a rush. But here¡¯s the thing: I had zero experience on anything remotely handy, either in this life or my last. Sera¡¯s body didn¡¯t naturally know its way around makeshift repairs either, so levelling up [Jury-Rigging] the usual way was turning out to be way harder than I¡¯d anticipated. That was a problem I could solve right here and now by dropping this General Skill Point into it. The first level wouldn¡¯t make me into McGuyver himself, sure, but it¡¯d give me a starting point. And once I got the hang of it, going from Level 1 to Level 2 wouldn¡¯t be too tough, especially if I focused on practising it over the next few days. That¡¯d give me two solid levels in [Jury-Rigging], which was probably enough to make a decent impression. Having even a little knowledge about rigging up quick fixes could be the exact kind of edge I needed going into the meeting, especially since I didn¡¯t actually know what it would look like. Whether they¡¯d be interviewing me, full-on testing me, or something as simple as just sizing me up. Every Operator worked differently, so having a broader skill set might just be what set me apart from others. It honestly felt like one of those job interviews where they throw vague ¡°desirable qualities¡± at you and expect you to somehow know what they¡¯re really looking for. I¡¯d never liked those kinds of games back then, and now? Definitely still not my favourite, but hey, it was part of the deal; so nothing I could really do about it now. The last and most obvious option on my list was [Negotiation]. It was arguably the best fit for a situation like this, where the main goal was convincing someone to vouch for me. Plus, it was already at Level 2¡ªjust one step from the Level 3 milestone with its hefty knowledge download and coveted Perk Point unlock. The only reason I hadn¡¯t jumped straight at it was that I was trying to take a more measured approach to decision-making in general. Maybe it was stubbornness, or just me wanting to prove that I¡¯d outgrown my impulsive tendencies from my past life, but either way; I had decided I wanted to think things through properly. The downside of it, though, was clear: [Negotiation] wouldn¡¯t do much for me beyond the conversation itself. Where [Jury-Rigging] offered real, practical advantages, [Negotiation] was purely social and theoretical. If the Operator didn¡¯t actually give me a chance to talk and flex those particular skills, I¡¯d be out of luck¡ªand potentially wasting the point. It was a gamble, sure, but so was every other option at this point. No use in second-guessing the last two choices now. I tapped into the System Interface, bringing up the [Negotiation] Perk Tree, fully expecting another error message to slap me in the face and tell me to fuck right off. But, to my surprise and slight relief, the list loaded smoothly. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what my Point might actually get me¡­¡± I muttered, scrolling through the Perks, my attention split between the list and the ramen bowls I was absent-mindedly setting up. I could feel the clock ticking as I went through the motions of finishing up the meal, realising that my decision window was narrowing fast.
[Bartering Master] (Requirement: Negotiation 3) Special deal, just for you. ¡ª Gain the ability to increase the number of successes on any barter attempt by one, regardless of the initial outcome. This bonus may exceed the usual maximum number of successes.
[Corporate Espionage] (Requirement: Negotiation 3) You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.You want to explain to the suits why I¡¯m late? Go ahead, stand in my way longer. ¡ª Unlock additional insights into corporate culture, allowing you to expertly navigate conversations with corporate members. Drastically improves your ability to talk your way into, out of, or through any corporate environment.
[Smooth Operator] (Requirement: Negotiation 3) We don¡¯t need to do this; I¡¯m just here to do a job. ¡ª Gain the ability to exude an aura of trust and ease, making it far easier to de-escalate situations where you are not immediately recognized as an enemy.
[Cultural Savant] (Requirement: Negotiation 3) Japan? Lived there for ten years, actually. ¡ª Instinctively identify, understand and navigate cultural nuances, granting you a unique advantage in negotiations with people from unfamiliar backgrounds.
[Underworld Connections] (Requirement: Negotiation 3) The boss wanted to see me; so get out of my way. ¡ª Unlock additional insights into gang dynamics, giving you the ability to read and manipulate the social cues of the underworld. Drastically improves your ability to talk your way into, out of, or through conversations with gang members.
The sheer scope and impact of these Perks had me reeling, as usual. Seeing them laid out in front of me like this¡ªnot just as game features but as actual abilities I could tap into to influence the world¡ªwas a little mind-bending. Something like [Bartering Master] basically tipped into straight up reality-warping territory, bending people to react in ways they normally wouldn¡¯t, just because I¡¯d invested a point in the right Skill. It was wild to think about, and yet, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder about the ¡°how¡± behind it. Did the System subtly alter people¡¯s behaviour? Was it tapping into some unseen layer of reality to tweak reactions? And was it even ethical to use a Perk that could steer people¡¯s decisions like this? Was everyone around me just a set of variables the System could adjust, or were they real people, just¡­ somehow influenced by a System they didn¡¯t even know existed? Or maybe¡ªBefore I could spiral down that rabbit hole any further, I violently shook my head. ¡®Not the time, Sera,¡¯ I forced myself to focus. My main question now: Would any of these Perks pack more punch than a couple of levels in [Jury-Rigging], especially with the real possibility that I wouldn¡¯t get a ton of time to actually talk with the Operator? Each one looked downright tempting, offering some serious boosts in its own way. First up was [Bartering Master]. As good as it was, I doubted I¡¯d be haggling with the Operator for their endorsement¡ªit didn¡¯t seem like that kind of situation. Even if bartering did somehow come into play, one success alone wouldn¡¯t likely tip the scales for something this major. So that one, while good, was a bit of a pass. [Corporate Espionage] and [Underworld Connections] were both intriguing, primarily for the extra knowledge they¡¯d bring in rather than any immediate advantage. They¡¯d be great for background info but would only really come into play if the Operator somehow counted as a gang member or corp insider¡ªnot a safe gamble. Still, [Corporate Espionage] had an extra layer for me: Insight into the Dojo crew and Valeria. With my current circle of contacts, that might be worth banking on. Having some inside knowledge on the Arkion Dojo folks¡¯ backgrounds and quirks? Not a bad safety net to have around; not to mention the whole can of worms that was dealing with Valeria. [Smooth Operator] was the only real ¡°Perk¡±-like option besides [Bartering Master], giving me an actual, tangible something to work with: An aura of trust and ease I could activate at will. That kind of impression boost could go a long way, regardless of any other factors in the meeting. Plus, if I could switch it on and off, I could keep the whole ¡°System-assisted charm¡± under wraps when I wanted to; a definite mega-plus! Finally, there was [Cultural Savant]. At first glance, I¡¯d nearly skipped over it since I already had the [Polyglot] Trait from Day One. But as I took a second look, the specific wording stuck out: ¡°Identify¡± and ¡°unfamiliar background.¡± [Polyglot] was great for helping me pick up on cultural nuances¡ªassuming I already had a clue about the culture in question. With something obvious, like a Gryplik such as Misha, it was pretty straightforward since they looked and acted so differently from humans. But identifying if someone was Filipino, Korean, or Japanese without any prior exposure? Yeah, that was a different story altogether. [Polyglot] could help bridge the gap with its language-based insights, picking up on phrases and terms to offer clues, but [Cultural Savant] would just tell me, flat-out, what culture I was dealing with. Instead of being redundant, as I had initially pegged it as, [Cultural Savant] would veritably level up [Polyglot] entirely, turning it into a complete powerhouse of a Trait/Perk combination. No more guessing or piecing things together¡ªI¡¯d just immediately know what I was looking at, how to handle it on a social level and have the language to do so to boot. For an Operator, that was literally game-changing. Neo Avalis was practically a powder keg of cultural complexity, where even mid-to-high-level characters in the game struggled with managing the dynamics across different Fixers. Most people would just play up to one or two groups in any given playthrough, avoiding cultural missteps as they rarely invested into more languages or cultural lessons with their hard-earned Credits. But with [Polyglot] and [Cultural Savant] in my toolkit? I could walk straight into the Operator meeting with a massive advantage if this particular Operator had any strong cultural ties at all. And even beyond this one meeting, having a foothold in navigating Neo Avalis¡¯s diverse Fixers and Operators could be game-changing for the long haul. The idea of becoming a Face, someone who could lead a whole team of Operators, suddenly didn¡¯t feel so far-fetched anymore. I could open doors with all kinds of Fixers across the city, not just stick to a couple of neighbourhoods or one particular sector of the city The more I thought about it, the more I was itching to lock in that Skill Point for [Negotiation] and select [Cultural Savant] as my Perk. The synergy felt too good to pass up. But then I hesitated, second-guessing if this was really the best way to spend my limited resources. I went over each Perk again, slowly this time, trying to visualise when each one might actually be useful, where they might fall short, or when I¡¯d be wishing I¡¯d gone with something else¡ªlike [Jury-Rigging]. But even with all that second- and third-guessing, I kept coming back to the same conclusion: [Cultural Savant] paired with [Polyglot] was too powerful to ignore. Sure, it might end up being useless for this one meeting if the Operator didn¡¯t have any strong cultural ties, but the boost from reaching [Negotiation] Level 3 would still be valuable for it regardless. As much as I wanted to build up [Jury-Rigging], it wasn¡¯t going to give me the immediate edge I needed for this particular moment. Decision made, I accepted the rewards for the third Data Collection task.
[System]: Task Completed: Mr. Stirling¡¯s Request (Third Data Collection) [System]: You have gained 150 Character Experience. [System]: You have gained 1 [General Skill Point]. [System]: Use [General Skill Point] on [Negotiation] Level 2? Y/N. [System]: 1,300xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: [Negotiation] Skill has reached Level 3. Knowledge and Muscle Memory download available. [Negotiation] Perk Point obtained. [System]: [Cultural Savant] (Negotiation) Perk acquired.
As soon as the interface cleared, I confirmed the Knowledge and Muscle Memory download, letting the System take over as I settled into my seat at the table, ready to absorb everything it had in store. As the download kicked in, it was like the floodgates of negotiation tactics and strategies burst open in my mind and I was glad I had decided to sit down first. Where [Negotiation] Level 2 had been the basics¡ªhow to open a conversation, common strategies like ¡°anchoring¡± or ¡°mirroring¡± to build rapport¡ªLevel 3 took it a whole step further. Concepts that had felt abstract before now made perfect sense, like I¡¯d spent a year studying the art of reading between the lines, feeling out the subtle shifts in power dynamics, and knowing how to adjust my tone and word choice to steer conversations in my favour. One of the most immediate revelations was understanding something called ¡°framing,¡± which essentially let me set the stage for a conversation in a way that subtly nudged the other person¡¯s perception of reality. Instead of just reacting to what the other person said, framing allowed me to create the context, to influence just how they¡¯d respond based on the perspective I subtly offered them first. I also picked up a stronger grasp on the concept of ¡°detachment¡± and why it mattered. Being able to step back mentally, to not take anything said as a personal attack or challenge, was something seasoned negotiators mastered early on. The more I could remove my emotions from the situation, the sharper my responses would be; something my Edge and Ego would be truly invaluable for. I felt the download guiding me through scenarios where letting the other person vent or rant without reacting would often lead them to soften up later, almost as if they¡¯d expended their ammunition on air. There were even a few practical muscle memories thrown in, like maintaining subtle but effective eye contact¡ªjust long enough to make an impression without making the other person uncomfortable¡ªand nodding slowly in response to draw them into speaking more. Somehow, I instinctively knew the ideal timing for short, ¡°encouraging¡± phrases like ¡°I see¡± or ¡°Go on,¡± things I¡¯d always heard were useful but had never really internalised. These aspects and more were all crammed into my brain in a matter of seconds, as I simply let the System take control and rewire my memories and muscles once more to give me just another small edge; hopefully one that would be large enough to make an impact on a seasoned Operator in just a few days time. As the download wrapped up and I blinked back to reality, the now-familiar throb of a headache started tapping behind my eyes¡ªa little side effect I¡¯d gotten used to, especially with the bigger downloads like this one. I was still rubbing my temples when Gabriel walked through the front door, looking a bit taken aback at the sight of me already at the table, dinner set up and waiting. ¡°Huh¡­? Everything alright, Sera?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow with that mix of caution and curiosity he always wore when things were out of the ordinary. ¡°Yeah, just had a bit of extra time after work,¡± I said, managing an easy smile. ¡°Thought I¡¯d actually, you know, prepare dinner for once. Nothing to stress about, Gabe¡ªpromise.¡± He nodded, clearly still a little sceptical, but he settled into his chair anyway. It had been a while since we¡¯d both been able to sit down for a proper meal. Lately, one or both of us had been too drained to really talk or catch up, just grabbing a few bites in passing before crashing. Tonight, though, I had a few questions that had been nagging at me for a while, and I wanted Gabe in a decent mood¡ªcomfortable and hopefully chatty enough to give me some real answers. A good meal was definitely the way to kick things off. Dinner went smoothly, Gabe and I catching each other up on our lives¡ªhow work was going, the usual frustrations, and how Miss K¡¯s dojo was practically built to knock the sense out of us every time we showed up. By the time we¡¯d finished eating and were just leaning back in that comfortable post-meal silence, I knew it was finally time to bring up the question that¡¯d been bugging me for a while. ¡°Hey, Gabe¡­¡± I started, adding just a touch of that new [Negotiation] finesse into my tone. ¡°How come I don¡¯t have anyone in my contacts? I mean, aside from the people I¡¯ve met since the coma, mum, dad, and you. Nobody ever got in touch after, you know¡­ everything. Do I¡­ Does that mean I didn¡¯t have any friends before¡­?¡± I watched his every reaction, leaning on my new skills to pick up anything he might try to hold back. But almost instantly, I realised I was overthinking it¡ªthis was Gabriel, after all. The guy had the subterfuge skills of a golden retriever, and any unease from my question showed plainly on his face. ¡®Right¡­ maybe I should remember that not everyone here is living some double life in the shadows,¡¯ I thought, scolding myself a bit as I waited for him to answer. Gabriel¡¯s face tightened, and I could almost see the wheels in his head spinning, trying to balance honesty with not wanting to hurt my feelings. He gave a little cough, shifted in his chair, and started, ¡°Oh, you definitely had friends, Sera! I mean, you¡¯re¡­ you know, you¡¯re not exactly the ¡®no friends¡¯ type.¡± He forced a smile, his words trailing off as he scrambled for the right thing to say. ¡°Or¡­ I guess you wouldn¡¯t know¡­?¡± He looked away for a second, clearly debating something, then turned back to me, visibly trying to keep it light. ¡°It¡¯s just, you know, the whole¡­ link issues. After the, uh, incident¡­ they had to replace it entirely. Whatever happened to you almost destroyed it, really. I guess that¡¯s why there aren¡¯t any contacts on the one you got now.¡± I almost chimed in, but my [Negotiation] told me to stay quiet, to let him work through it, even as his face hinted that he was holding something else back. He started to reach for his drink, caught himself, then seemed to resign to the fact that there was no sidestepping whatever truth he was trying to dance around. With a heavy sigh, he finally leaned back in his chair, tossing up his hands. ¡°Okay, look,¡± he began, his shoulders slumping, ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know every detail about all of this, alright? But yes, you had friends. You talked about them to me sometimes. It¡¯s just that¡­ well¡­ the contacts were on your old link, and since it got wrecked, they were basically lost when they replaced your link. Mum¡­ Well, she¡¯s the one who kept the original information of whatever was left on your link; including the contacts. But, she¡¯s always been kind of firm that¡­¡± He hesitated, trying to find the least loaded words. ¡°That your circle wasn¡¯t exactly¡­ up to her standards,¡± he said, finally settling on a diplomatic answer. The rest of his thoughts hung in the air, unspoken but obvious: Valeria hadn¡¯t given the contacts back after the fact, judging that it was better for Sera¡ªfor me¡ªnot to know about those friends at all. He gave me an apologetic look, as though he half-expected me to be upset with him for revealing even this much. I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the pieces settle into place. Gabriel¡¯s expression was apologetic, maybe even a little guilty, like he thought he¡¯d let me down by saying it out loud. But I just gave him a reassuring smile, trying to ease that look off his face. ¡°Gabe, you don¡¯t have to feel bad about it,¡± I said calmly, keeping my tone steady. ¡°It¡¯s not like I even remember any of them anyway.¡± I shrugged, watching the relief and momentary cringe at me mentioning my loss of memory soften his expression somewhat. ¡°Honestly, if Valeria thought they weren¡¯t the best crowd, maybe she had her reasons too. But at this point, it¡¯s all just so¡­ abstract. Just something I feel like I¡¯m missing because it¡¯s supposed to be there, you know?¡± He nodded, looking more relaxed, his shoulders dropping as he finally took a sip of his drink. ¡°Still,¡± I added, curiosity slowly taking over. If there were people out there that knew the original Sera and that Valeria didn¡¯t like; they sounded like exactly the kind of people I might want to know more about, ¡°if you know anything about them¡­ what were they like? Even just a little bit¡­ Tell me what you remember about them. Please¡­?¡± Chapter 96 - Old Friends Gabriel¡¯s face scrunched up as he started to answer, then hesitated, a pained look flickering across his eyes. ¡°Ah¡­ I don¡¯t know if I should, Sera¡­¡± He trailed off, his mouth twisting slightly as he looked away. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m just not sure it¡¯s a great idea.¡± I kept my gaze steady, the edges of a playful grin creeping in as I intensified the puppy-eye stare, waiting him out with just enough persistence to wear down his defences. It only took a few more seconds before his resolve crumbled entirely, and he sighed, shaking his head with a resigned smile. ¡°Fine, fine¡ªyou¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡± he muttered, throwing his hands up in defeat. ¡°But,¡± he pointed a finger at me with mock seriousness, ¡°you have to promise you¡¯re not going to get upset if they don¡¯t sound¡­ Well, flattering. This is just what I¡¯ve heard, either from you back then, or from Mum and Dad whenever you weren¡¯t around, and¡­ they might not be the most glowing reviews; or entirely accurate at all.¡± I crossed my heart, nodding solemnly. ¡°Promise! Just curious, I swear.¡± I leaned in, my expression all eager and genuine, silently reassuring him he had nothing to worry about. Which was honestly true¡ªI had no real connection to these people. My curiosity was purely academic, a peek into who Sera had been before¡­ well, before I took over. Besides, the circumstances around where she¡¯d been found before she was rushed to the hospital had always made me wonder just what kind of life she¡¯d been leading. This was a chance to piece together a bit more of that puzzle. Plus, if any of these ¡°friends¡± turned out to be decent connections later down the line, maybe I¡¯d even get something useful out of it as well! And, let¡¯s be entirely real here, the fact that Valeria didn¡¯t like them whatsoever made me all the more interested. I was still a bit sore over that whole NeuroCorpse incident, so while I couldn¡¯t even think of outright defying her anytime soon, a touch of classic teenage rebellion by digging into the crowd she¡¯d wanted out of original Sera¡¯s life to make Valeria¡¯s life even just a fraction more annoying? Yeah, that sounded just perfect in my mind. Gabriel took a deep breath, still looking a little torn, but he seemed to decide to go for it. ¡°Okay, so... I only really know of two people for sure, but I¡¯m pretty positive there were more. You didn¡¯t really talk about the others much¡ªprobably the ones closest to you, honestly.¡± He paused, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, clearly debating how much he should really tell me. ¡°The first was this guy named Luca. No last name or anything; you never mentioned it, and¡­ well, I didn¡¯t exactly dig too deep either. I don¡¯t know where you met him, but I do know he was into some risky business. The guy dealt in unlicensed Deep-Dive Recordings.¡± He glanced over, gauging my reaction, maybe to see if I had any clue about what those even were. I kept my face blank, feigning ignorance for new-Sera¡¯s sake, though in reality, I was all too familiar. Deep-Dive-Recordings, or DDRs, were like VR but on a completely different level¡ªdirect access to your nervous system. They allowed you to feel every sensory input from whatever scenario was in the recording, everything from the temperature, to tactile feelings to the very emotions of whomever¡¯s POV you were looking through. For people living in a work-centric world like Neo Avalis, DDRs had become especially popular as a shortcut to experiences that were otherwise hard to come by¡ªparticularly porn; as one would expect from such a high-level technology. Porn was, after all, always the first thing people used any tech advances for. And with 16+ hour work days being more the norm than a rarity, people got lonely fairly quickly around here. The problem with unlicensed DDRs, though, was that you had no guarantee that the developers didn¡¯t simply skip any and all safety testing. Letting software access your entire nervous system and link is a huge risk even with the trustworthy stuff; with the bootleg versions? It was plain russian-roulette. A single bad line of code could cause anything from a seizure to a full-on heart attack or worse. And if you had any major Cybernetics chipped? Abrupt capacitor discharges weren¡¯t exactly a rarity with these things. Anyone dealing in unlicensed DDRs was running a deadly game; either because they were selling things they knew were potentially lethal or because they were testing them first-hand in order to ratify the lack of lethality themselves¡ªeither way; pure insanity. So, I really couldn¡¯t blame Gabriel for being uneasy about it; it made complete sense. And yet, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of curiosity¡ªold-Sera had been tight enough with this guy to ignore the obvious danger of being associated with him? ¡®Why the fuck had she been hanging out with someone like that? And where had she even met him in the first place¡­?¡¯ Gabriel seemed to mistake my silence for denial, and he let out a soft sigh of relief before continuing. ¡°I really wasn¡¯t a fan of you hanging around someone dealing in that stuff. Those recordings¡ªthey¡¯re not just illegal for some technicality or patent reason. They¡¯re actually fucking dangerous. Getting involved with unlicensed DDRs, even just as an acquaintance of a dealer, can be¡­ Well, let¡¯s just say, they¡¯re called ¡®death dives¡¯ for a reason.¡± He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor, looking torn between guilt and uncertainty. This had clearly been eating at him, the endless "what ifs" spinning in his mind. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know if it had anything to do with what happened to you,¡± he murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself, ¡°but looking back, I feel like I should¡¯ve done more to keep you safe. I tried to talk you out of it a few times, but you were always so damned stubborn...¡± I could see how much this was weighing on him, and for a moment, I was totally and completely lost. I hadn¡¯t wanted to drag him into some emotional minefield by asking questions about my old life¡ªI¡¯d just been curious about it all. But here he was, running his hand through his hair and looking like he carried every "what-if" and "could¡¯ve been" on his shoulders. ¡°Hey, Gabe,¡± I started, keeping my voice soft, ¡°it really wasn¡¯t your fault. You tried, right? You did what you could. And¡­ I mean, come on. This stubborn streak? You could¡¯ve tried to lecture me a thousand times and it probably wouldn¡¯t have done much good.¡± I threw in a half-smile, hoping he¡¯d bite. He looked at me, uncertain at first, then cracked a faint smile. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Sera. I just feel like¡­ I should¡¯ve pushed harder. If I did, maybe it wouldn¡¯t have ended this way, y¡¯know? Maybe been more adamant about the dangers that come with being around guys like Luca or something...¡± I shook my head, meeting his gaze. ¡°I¡¯m sure you did your best, Gabe. If the you I know now is the way you¡¯ve always been, then I have no doubts that you tried; tried hard. And trust me, if my stubbornness survived even all of this nonsense¡±¡ªI waved a hand in front of my own face like some kind of magician, indicating my general post-coma amnesia¡ª¡°then I think you really didn¡¯t stand much of a chance.¡± That finally earned me a small laugh. He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, I guess some things don¡¯t change, huh? Stubbornness has always been your thing¡­ Drove Mum and Dad completely mad¡­¡± I grinned, relieved to see the tension lift a little. ¡°Exactly. So it¡¯s not on you, Gabe. Really. I made my own choices, you gave me some contra on it, but I still decided on it. And that is, if Luca or the unlicensed DDR business even had anything to do with it at all¡ªcould be entirely unrelated for all we know, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, I guess,¡± He sighed, this time a little more relaxed, as if he¡¯d let go of a bit of the guilt. ¡°I just¡­ I worry, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± I leaned back, giving him a reassuring smile. ¡°Now, enough about Luca and the DDR-stuff. You mentioned another friend?¡± I nudged him, hoping this new topic might ease things up even more, while also giving me some more intel to work with. Gabriel scratched the back of his neck, visibly hesitant. ¡°The other one¡­ well, her name was Rina. I¡­ I guess you could say she was¡­ a JOI-girl.¡± I blinked, the term hanging in the air as I processed. JOI-girl. My two closest friends had been an unlicensed DDR dealer and a prostitute? Gabriel looked even more uncomfortable, shifting in his seat like he was bracing for me to explode or maybe question my life choices all at once. ¡°So¡­ A JOI-girl,¡± I said, slowly, trying to keep my tone light. ¡°Alright. I mean, was she¡­?¡± ¡°Nice?¡± he finished, sighing. ¡°Yeah, honestly, she was. Rina was¡­ polite, mostly. Very, uh, bubbly, I guess? Which I guess would have made her very popular in her line of work.¡± He let out a small, humourless laugh, his fingers drumming on the table. ¡°But still¡­ Sera, she was¡­ You know. Just¡­ Not exactly what you¡¯d call a safe influence, either¡­ I guess.¡± I could tell he was watching my reaction closely, so I kept it neutral. I didn¡¯t know how to feel about this yet, honestly. ¡°She sounds¡­ interesting?¡± I offered, shrugging. ¡°I mean, at least she seemed friendly. Not a bad trait to have in a friend, right?¡± Gabriel gave a half-smile, though his face was still lined with worry. ¡°Yeah, I guess. Rina was actually pretty protective of you, from what I could tell. And she wasn¡¯t like¡­ Well, she didn¡¯t flaunt her work around you or anything, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about. If anything, she seemed like she wanted to keep that part away from you. But it¡­ it just bothered me, y¡¯know? The whole¡­ situation as a whole, I guess.¡± I nodded slowly, realising how tough it must have been for him to handle old-me hanging around with people like Luca and Rina. ¡°I get it, Gabe. Sounds like you just wanted me to have friends who were¡­ more normal? But it seems like, all things considered, Rina was a good friend.¡± He exhaled slowly, maybe relieved that I wasn¡¯t freaking out. ¡°Yeah. I mean, she was. Just¡­ not what I¡¯d expected¡­¡± He trailed off for a moment, before quickly adding, ¡°Ehh, for you, I mean!¡± That definitely didn¡¯t sound like what he had initially intended to say. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I tilted my head, now curious. ¡°Wait, so¡­ Did you ever actually meet Rina?¡± Gabriel¡¯s face turned a shade darker, and he let out a reluctant sigh. ¡°Yeah¡­ I did, actually. A few times.¡± He cleared his throat, looking a bit flustered. ¡°She¡¯d sometimes drop by the shop, usually when she couldn¡¯t get a hold of you. I don¡¯t know if it was just to make sure you were alright or to chat or what, but¡­ yeah.¡± I couldn¡¯t hold back a knowing grin. ¡°Sounds like she made an impression.¡± He rolled his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. ¡°Listen! She was¡­ different from what I¡¯d expected, alright? Really charming, actually. And I don¡¯t mean that in the¡­ ¡®professional¡¯ sense,¡± he quickly added, trying to make himself clear. ¡°She just had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was¡­ nice.¡± I watched him closely, amused. ¡°So¡­ You liked her, huh?¡± Gabriel¡¯s face turned a shade redder. ¡°Look, I just¡­ respected her, alright? Despite¡­ well everything. Respect, Sera! Nothing more.¡± He ran a hand over his face, groaning. ¡°And I guess¡­ I guess she was kind of sweet, okay? Didn¡¯t seem to want you involved in any of the darker stuff. I guess¡­ I guess I could see why the two of you were close.¡± I leaned back, still grinning. ¡°So, let me get this straight¡ªmy best friends were an unlicensed DDR dealer and a JOI-girl? And you¡¯ve also been secretly crushing on one of them?¡± Gabriel threw up his hands, shaking his head in exasperation, though an involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Alright, alright, laugh it up. But yeah, Rina was¡­ I don¡¯t know. Good-hearted, maybe. She had this thing where, despite her line of work, she didn¡¯t seem¡­ Well, jaded? It was like she wanted something better for you, even if she wasn¡¯t living that herself¡ªlike she was treating you as her little sister, of sorts. I respected that.¡± I took that in, my curiosity growing. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ honestly not quite what I expected.¡± He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Me neither. Guess I just figured, well¡­ Maybe she was the kind of friend you needed back then. Somebody not related to you, that would still look out for you, y¡¯know?¡± He paused, giving me a serious look. ¡°But just¡­ Be careful if you do end up reconnecting with people like that. Rina was good to you, sure, but¡­ People like Luca? Your other friends that I don¡¯t know much about? Maybe not so much.¡± I gave him a reassuring smile. ¡°I get it, Gabe. It¡¯s good advice. But¡­ Thanks for telling me. Really.¡± He softened a bit, visibly relieved, and I could tell he was finally more at ease with the whole rundown. ¡°Anytime, Sera. Just¡­ Remember that you¡¯re different now. Better, maybe¡­?¡± I shot him a playful look. ¡°Better? ¡®Cause I don¡¯t cause as much trouble with Valeria?¡± Gabriel¡¯s face immediately shifted to one of mild panic as he realised what he¡¯d just let slip. ¡°Ah, no, that¡¯s not what I meant! I just¡­ y¡¯know¡­ you¡¯re just¡­ easier to talk to, maybe? A bit more¡­¡± He trailed off, clearly scrambling for words. ¡°Normal,¡± he finished, wincing slightly. I smirked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Normal, huh? You¡¯re really laying on the compliments thick here, Gabe.¡± He shook his head, clearly embarrassed. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t mean it in a bad way. It¡¯s just¡­ old you was great, don¡¯t get me wrong! You were just¡­ always running headfirst into stuff; dangerous stuff. You had this rebellious streak¡ªhanging around with risky people, always challenging Mum and even Dad sometimes. It was like you just had to push against everything, like you were looking for a fight at every turn. And¡­ Well, I worried about you.¡± I stayed quiet for a second, letting his words settle. It wasn¡¯t hard to see that Gabe had spent a lot of time thinking about old-Sera and the kind of trouble she¡¯d been drawn to. I could sense some of the relief in his voice, even if he was trying not to come across too strong about it. ¡°Hey,¡± I said gently, reaching across the table to give his hand a quick squeeze, ¡°you don¡¯t have to feel guilty about any of that. I get it. Maybe the coma actually knocked some sense into me, you know?¡± I shrugged, hoping to lighten the mood, even if the whole thing felt pretty damn twisted. For all I knew, old-Sera had actually straight-up died, and here I was, commandeering her meat suit, occupying her life and talking about how I might be the "better version" of her. The whole thought felt decidedly fucking grim, so I pushed it aside for now. ¡®Sorry, Sera¡­ if you¡¯re out there somewhere. I don¡¯t mean it that way, honest,¡¯ I thought, hoping her spirit¡ªor whatever¡ªwould cut me some slack for how I had phrased it. ¡°And let¡¯s be real here,¡± I added with a grin. ¡°I may be a little calmer now, but I¡¯m still as stubborn as ever.¡± That brought a reluctant smile to his face. ¡°True. You still know how to push my buttons like nobody else.¡± I leaned back, giving him a mock-serious nod. ¡°And I intend to keep it that way.¡± He chuckled, finally looking more at ease as the tension of the whole conversation started to ease off. ¡°Alright, alright. Just promise me, if you do go digging into any old leads¡­ maybe keep me in the loop?¡± ¡°Promise.¡± I gave him a reassuring smile, which quickly turned into a mischievous grin. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to keep my brother from his long-lost crush, after all.¡± He groaned and rolled his eyes, but I could tell he wasn¡¯t as annoyed as he pretended to be. ¡°Oh, great. That¡¯s the last thing I need right now.¡± ¡°Speaking of being stubborn,¡± I jumped in, keeping the conversation light, ¡°I actually got something for you.¡± With a swift mental command, I sent exactly 570 credits to Gabriel¡¯s account. His eyes flashed yellow as the notification lit up in his interface, and he froze, staring at me with a mix of shock and something that edged close to worry. ¡°Sera¡­¡± His voice was half a whisper, as if he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d seen it right. ¡°Where did you¡­ How did you get this?¡± He looked downright serious now, not at all ready to brush it off. ¡°You¡¯re not doing anything risky, right? You know you don¡¯t need to pay me back like this¡­¡± I laughed, trying to play it cool, though I hadn¡¯t quite expected this reaction¡ªeven though I probably should have. I hadn¡¯t quite thought about how to explain how I had gotten my hands on all the Credits from the deal with Vega; but at this point, it was a bit too late to worry about that. ¡°Relax, Gabe. I told you I¡¯d pay you back for the SPG-01 shard, didn¡¯t I? You don¡¯t think I¡¯d back out of my own promise, right?¡± He still didn¡¯t look convinced, his eyes darting between me and the notification as if it might disappear. ¡°Sera, I mean it¡ªif you¡¯re getting mixed up in anything shady, you don¡¯t have to do that. I don¡¯t need the Creds back right now; I told you, it¡¯s completely fine.¡± He frowned, the concern clear in his voice. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you putting yourself in any kind of danger¡­ again.¡± I sighed, leaning forward to reassure him. ¡°Gabriel, look at me. I¡¯m fine. No shady business, no sketchy jobs.¡± I gave him a soft smile, hoping it would settle him down. ¡°I got this legit, I swear.¡± It was technically the truth, too: There really was no law that said I couldn¡¯t take the illegal¡ªif technically registered and whitelisted¡ªgun of an illegal gang member and sell it to another illegal gang. His brows knit together, and he shook his head in disbelief. ¡°But¡­ how? You¡¯ve barely been walking for what¡ªa few weeks? A month, max? Sera, 570 Credits is¡­ That¡¯s more than most people make in months; much less able to save¡­!¡± He looked like he was ready to march off and figure out who I''d hustled, convinced there was some poor old man out there missing his life savings. ¡°Gabe¡­ Gabriel!¡± I called his name a bit more forcefully, snapping him out of his spiral as he reluctantly sank back into his seat. ¡®Note to self: don¡¯t surprise him like this again,¡¯ I thought as he finally met my eyes. I took a deep breath, quickly crafting an explanation that might sit better with him. ¡°Alright, so Mr. Shori gave me a big bonus, since the shop¡¯s been doing really well. You know, the ramen place where I get dinner?¡± I added for emphasis, hoping the ¡°more details means more believable¡± approach would work here. ¡°I¡¯m not just in the back anymore; I¡¯ve been helping out front too. Apparently, the regulars like having me around, and Mr. Shori noticed, so¡­ tips have been better than usual. All his words!¡± Gabriel¡¯s expression softened a little as he slowly processed this. ¡°You¡¯re good with the regulars?¡± He looked sceptical but seemed a bit more relaxed. ¡°Better than you¡¯d think,¡± I replied, grinning. ¡°Plus, I think they just like the mystery of the random new girl. And who knows, maybe it was the stubborn streak kicking in and me working a bit extra recently that got me the bonus¡­? I just really needed to make this up to you.¡± He let out a long sigh, finally accepting it. ¡°Alright, fine... But just¡­ Don¡¯t go overboard. And don¡¯t work yourself to the bone for my sake, okay? If I didn¡¯t have the creds to buy you that thing, then I wouldn¡¯t have done it¡ªso don¡¯t worry about it; alright?¡± Gabriel paused, his expression softening even more. ¡°Still¡­ That¡¯s not a bad amount of Credits, sis. I didn¡¯t expect you¡¯d be making so much.¡± He rubbed the back of his neck, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re doing well for yourself. Honestly, when I first heard you were helping out at a food stall, I was just really relieved you weren¡¯t getting into trouble and that you were getting out of the apartment at all, after¡­ Well, everything. But if it¡¯s paying well too?¡± He shrugged, looking genuinely pleased. ¡°Sounds like a career worth sticking to, especially since it¡¯s here in the megabuilding. It¡¯s safe.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but roll my eyes, smirking as I started gathering up the dishes. ¡°Gee, thanks for the career advice, Dad. You planning to get me a food stall Skill Shard too? Make sure I really got all the advantages for my high-rise career?¡± He laughed with a shrug, his face finally free of the lingering worry. ¡°Hey, just saying! I wouldn¡¯t mind seeing you as our local ramen queen.¡± I gave him a playful nudge as I carried the plates to the sink, and he shot me an exaggerated look of offence before breaking into an even wider grin. As I started on the dishes, I realised something¡ªit felt good, all of this. Familiar, easy, even right. This kind of connection, this back-and-forth with a sibling¡­? I¡¯d never really had it before, but somehow, it was exactly the kind of thing I¡¯d been missing without even knowing. We bantered for a few more minutes, chatting about nothing in particular, until Gabriel stretched with a yawn. ¡°Alright, I think I¡¯m gonna crash early tonight. Dojo tomorrow, and I don¡¯t want to show up exhausted. Miss K¡¯s been coming down on us hard the last time; hoping I won¡¯t end up a complete mess like last time.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t blame you there,¡± I said, stacking the dishes in the sink for a quick wash. ¡°Good luck surviving without too many bruises.¡± ¡°Yeah, thanks,¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Night, Sera.¡± ¡°Night, Gabe,¡± I called after him as he headed to his room, relieved our talk had ended on an easy note. With the apartment wrapped in a cosy silence, I returned to the dishes, letting my thoughts drift to everything I¡¯d learned over dinner and what it all might mean for me moving forward. ¡®Luca and Rina, huh¡­?¡¯ Two contacts that had been close to the old Sera, both somewhere out there in the city, but completely unreachable unless I somehow managed to get Valeria to hand over Sera¡¯s old link data¡­ Something about as likely as me learning to fly overnight. Still, there had to be another way to get in touch, especially with Rina, if I could just figure out how to go about it. With Luca, it was probably best to leave things alone for now. Whatever Sera had been up to with him and his unlicensed DDR dealings, I needed more context before I went digging into any of that. But Rina sounded like someone it might actually be worth reconnecting with. Sure, JOI-girls weren¡¯t exactly rubbing elbows with high society, but Sera¡¯s body had been found near Selfour Plaza¡ªthe heart of Neo Avalis¡¯s entertainment district and noticeably close to multiple JOI establishments. Rina might know something about Sera¡¯s last night there, maybe even something that could help explain how she¡¯d ended up the way that she¡ªor I¡ªhad. I wasn¡¯t rushing to uncover the whole mystery of what happened to old Sera, of course. I had way more things to worry about than that right now. But if there was even a chance someone out there had been involved in her last moments or was looking for her¡­ or me, now¡ªthen it was worth being prepared. With the Operator business coming up and more Data-Collection Tasks, I¡¯d be bound to have to travel outside the Megabuilding more, and the last thing I needed was a run-in with enemies I didn¡¯t even know about. Rina seemed like the best starting point for all of this, but there was still one huge problem. ¡®How the hell do I possibly get Valeria to give me Rina¡¯s contact ID¡­?¡¯ Chapter 97 - Odd Encounter After putting away the last of the dishes, I sank into the living room couch, letting the softness of the cushions ease me as I mulled over just how I¡¯d go about getting Rina¡¯s contact ID from Valeria. Resting my feet on the coffee table, I let out a small sigh. ¡°There¡¯s more than just a few issues with this plan,¡± I murmured, drumming my fingers thoughtfully. First and foremost, I could not risk burning the good will I¡¯d built with Valeria over this, under any circumstances. I¡¯d bled, sweated, and practically grovelled my way to get to where I was with her. Right now, it seemed like she was starting to see me as someone worth investing time and resources into¡ªnot just some wayward problem child like original Sera seemed to have been. And I¡¯d worked too damn hard to blow that on a whim. So far, this tentative truce with her had meant some pretty big perks, including access to some of her resources. The Arkion Dojo visits were a major example. I still didn¡¯t know the full extent of her reach or what exactly she even did at EtherLabs, but the fact that she¡¯d managed to get me into a dojo class with someone as prominent as the Thomas Laken? That kind of pull wasn¡¯t something just any corpo-drone could swing; far from it. So if I wanted to keep up my momentum with the System, there¡¯d come a time when I¡¯d have to lean even more on Valeria¡¯s resources; and earlier rather than later, too. So, a misstep here¡ªespecially for something as unclear as reconnecting with an old friend or the uncertainty of figuring out what had happened to original Sera¡ªcould end up costing me a lot more in the long run. I couldn¡¯t trade a solid, semi-reliable but real asset like Valeria¡¯s backing for a shaky, unpredictable connection or the long-shot potential of getting some kind of intel. That trade just didn¡¯t make much sense. Additionally, if there was anything I knew for sure about Valeria, it was that getting on her bad side¡­ was not something I¡¯d like to repeat; ever. I rubbed my temples, thinking through the options, ¡®So, how do I play this, then¡­?¡¯ The first rule here was clear: Don¡¯t piss off Valeria. But beyond that? The path was murky at best. I considered trying to appeal to Valeria¡¯s corpo-side, framing my interest as professional curiosity about my past to avoid similar situations down the line. But that felt like walking into a minefield. If she even got a whiff of me slipping back into ¡°old patterns,¡± it could spell trouble. Risky business, to say the least. Then there was the idea of being upfront and specific¡ªtelling her that I wanted to connect with a JOI-girl. But that raised its own set of red flags. Valeria would definitely want to know why, and saying it was for some long-term corporate strategy would sound hollow. I hadn¡¯t shown any interest or taken steps toward that direction so far. It¡¯d be too obvious, too sudden. And if she got overzealous about the idea of me heading down a corpo-path? That could open a whole new can of worms. ¡®But would that actually be so bad¡­?¡¯ I wondered. If my read on Valeria was right, she¡¯d probably jump at the chance to mould me into a proper corpo-heir. If I started seriously hinting that I was actually interested, she¡¯d almost assuredly funnel her resources into making sure I was prepared. That would mean lessons, connections, and more opportunities to pick up new Skills and train a whole host of them at once. Not too shabby, in theory. The issue that I saw with that, though, was commitment. Once I took a step in that direction, there wouldn¡¯t be an easy out. Valeria definitely didn¡¯t strike me as the type to let her investment slip away without a fight. If I accepted her resources and the grooming that came with it, I¡¯d be tied to the corporate world for a while, potentially deeper than I¡¯d like. ¡®Could I even manage that? Would that be worth it in the long run?¡¯ I leaned back, chewing on the thought. It wasn¡¯t just about the immediate gain but the scale of what it might cost me down the road. A gamble with some serious stakes. Theoretically, there wasn¡¯t anything stopping me from diving into that world. The corporate ladder in a cyberpunk dystopia was, surprisingly, one of the safer routes to take. Sure, it came with its fair share of headaches, but you were generally protected¡ªcorporations hated their assets being damaged, after all. The salary was decent enough to live on, and if you had the stomach for being cutthroat and strategic, there was room to climb up the social ladder. But that, much like everything else in this world, came at a steep price as well. Corpo life was a trade-off with freedom, demanding your time, energy, and often your sanity. Endless hours, potentially mind-numbing desk work, and having to smile through the soul-sucking rituals of office politics. The very thought made my skin crawl. ¡®Not a complete no-go, but definitely not my first pick,¡¯ I thought, sighing heavily. I let my mind run in circles over the pros and cons, as well as potential alternative avenues to approach Valeria on the topic of Rina¡¯s ID for what felt like an eternity. Eventually however, I realised I was just burning through time without finding any real answers. ¡°I¡¯ll revisit this mess later,¡± I muttered, getting up from the couch and turning on my heel to head to mine and Gabriel¡¯s room. Just as I took my first step, however, the sound of the door opening made me freeze mid-stride. Oliver stepped into the apartment, his eyes landing on me as he paused, clearly not expecting to find me hovering in the living room. We stared at each other for a moment before he raised a brow and cracked a small, awkward smile. I was more than just a bit surprised to see him, considering that he had been so busy at work recently, that he had barely even come home to crash at night; much less be early enough to catch either me or Gabriel still awake. ¡°Uh¡­ hey there, Sera,¡± he said, closing the door behind him. His voice carried a hint of surprise. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you just¡­ standing there like that, I guess. You good?¡± I nodded, shifting my weight a bit awkwardly. ¡°Yeah, just... thinking, I guess. Didn¡¯t expect you to be home this early.¡± The words came out a little sharper than I intended, but I wasn¡¯t exactly brimming with warmth where Oliver was concerned, not after the whole NeuroCorpse mess. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking more worn out than usual. The circles under his eyes seemed deeper, and his usually well-kept hair had taken on a dishevelled, stressed-out look. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been a long day. Work¡¯s been... Well, you know how it is,¡± he said with a tired chuckle, trying to bridge the gap that had been widening between us. I crossed my arms, trying to keep my tone casual. ¡°OriginTech issues still kicking your ass?¡± His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement before returning to that prior exhaustion. ¡°Kicking my ass is an understatement, if anything. But¡­ Yeah, pretty much. FluxGear HQ sent over quite a number of runners recently to try and gather as much intel as they can about this whole issue; the loss of their first one is not sitting well with them¡ªcan¡¯t blame ¡®em, really¡­ Lots of work to try and provide everything they need, while also trying to keep things sane. It¡¯s messy.¡± Oliver sat down at the kitchen table, pulling out his late-night dinner; a stall-bought box of fried rice¡ªor so I pretended it to be; ignoring the fact that the rice was strangely bumpy and decidedly too bug-looking for my tastes. I decided now was as good a time as any to broach the topic that had been nagging at me. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to ask you something, is that alright?¡± I tried to keep my voice steady, masking the underlying tension. ¡°Of course,¡± he replied, perking up just a bit. Maybe he thought this was a step toward normalcy, an olive branch of sorts; maybe it was. I hesitated at first, unsure of how to broach the topic, but figured that Oliver was a good dry-run for when I had to confront Valeria about it, then pushed forward. ¡°It¡¯s about my old friends. Before the incident. Specifically... Rina.¡± His brows shot up in surprise. He didn¡¯t quite mask the initial shock, but it quickly softened into something more contemplative. ¡°Rina... right.¡± He sighed, running a hand over his face. ¡°I suppose it makes sense you¡¯d ask about them. You were... surprisingly close, despite everything.¡± ¡°Everything?¡± I pressed, my tone still guarded but my curiosity getting the better of me. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, eyes darting as if searching for the right words. ¡°Rina was¡ªwell, you know what she did for work. Valeria and I weren¡¯t exactly thrilled with that part of your life. But Rina was... She cared about you. That much I can¡¯t deny. Not something any father would ever be mad about, really.¡± He paused, studying my face as if trying to read my reaction. ¡°I guess it¡¯s only natural for you to want to reconnect or at least understand that part of your life, right?¡± I nodded slowly, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my mind was already racing. This could be the opening I needed. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just... bits and pieces of memories don¡¯t tell me much. I want to know more, maybe even understand what happened to me; but I don¡¯t actually have her contact ID, or even know where to start. My old link, and the data on it, is with Valeria¡ª¡± I stopped, watching as understanding dawned on him.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°She¡¯s protective,¡± Oliver said, his voice weighted with something between frustration and understanding. ¡°Too protective, at times.¡± I let out a scoff before I could stop myself, the sound cutting through the air awkwardly. The second it escaped, I regretted it, bracing for the reaction. Oliver¡¯s eyes narrowed, but not in anger¡ªmore like he was disappointed. ¡°Valeria is very protective. She¡¯s complicated, sure, and some of her choices¡­ Yeah, they¡¯re tough to swallow, especially for you. But everything she does, it¡¯s to keep this family safe. You and Gabriel mean everything to her, even if it doesn¡¯t always look that way. You can trust me on that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I mumbled, eyes glued to my hands as if they¡¯d suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room. I hadn¡¯t meant for my feelings to slip out, not when I was trying to stay strategic and composed. Whatever reasons Valeria might have had, I had serious doubts that NeuroCorps¡¯ing your own children had any real positive merit in the grand scheme of things, outside of ¡°force them to obey¡±. I took a breath, forcing my Ego to the forefront to maintain control and wash out those thoughts. This wasn¡¯t the time to let emotions cloud what I was aiming for. I needed information, not an argument. The last thing I wanted was for Oliver to pull back now when I was getting closer to potentially learning about stuff that I needed. Oliver sighed, softening a bit as he shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal, Sera. I¡¯m not exactly surprised, given your history with her. But¡­ well, I was hoping that maybe, after the coma, things could get a little more cohesive around here.¡± He paused, as if realising he was veering off track, and waved the thought away with a tired smile. ¡°Anyway, look, I know Valeria¡¯s approach can seem... intense. But she¡¯s been digging, really digging, to find out what happened to you that night. She¡¯s used quite a few resources to figure out how you ended up so close to¡­¡± He trailed off, glancing away briefly, the memory of my near-death still raw. ¡°But so far, nothing concrete has come up.¡± I kept my face neutral, but hearing that she¡¯d tried and failed made me even more determined to play along that angle. ¡°I appreciate that she¡¯s been using resources and all, but there¡¯s one angle I doubt she¡¯s even considering,¡± I said, keeping my tone steady, though I felt my pulse pick up until my Ego kicked in and forcibly calmed it back down again. ¡°The way you talk about her and your opinions on Rina¡¯s job, tells me she probably hasn¡¯t even tried asking people like Rina or any of the JOI girls in the area if they¡¯ve heard anything.¡± Oliver¡¯s brow furrowed, clearly weighing his next words. ¡°Sera, those girls... They¡¯re not exactly the type of people who¡¯d want to cooperate, let alone get involved in something like this. And honestly, they might not know anything, or they could even mislead you for their own reasons too.¡± "True," I conceded, keeping my gaze steady on Oliver. "But if there''s even a chance that Rina¡ªor someone like her¡ªmight¡¯ve seen or overheard something, isn''t it worth checking out? And hey, Valeria doesn¡¯t have to get her hands dirty here either. That¡¯s my whole point. I can reach out to Rina, get back in touch, maybe even chat up a few people with her and see if anything useful comes up. Isn¡¯t it better to have some kind of clue about what went down? You know, the thing that almost got me killed? Beats leaving us all in the dark, doesn¡¯t it?" I knew I was laying it on thick, even pulling out the ¡°I almost died¡± card, and I didn¡¯t miss the way that line made Oliver visibly flinch, a clear flash of discomfort crossing his face. He paused, clearly caught in a tug-of-war with himself, then sighed. "I just don¡¯t want you getting your hopes up, alright? And, to be real with you, Valeria¡¯s resources are a lot more involved than¡­ Well, one person asking around; no offence." I shrugged, keeping my tone relaxed but steady. "I get it. But come on, you think Valeria or one of her people are about to stroll into a JOI club and start grilling people and actually expecting any real answers? I don¡¯t even need all my memories to know that JOI girls wouldn¡¯t tell corpo-suits anything without a very good reason being presented." Oliver let out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of a dozen silent arguments. It was the sound of him accepting that I wasn¡¯t going to back down. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do,¡± he said, sounding like he was already regretting it. ¡°Valeria¡¯s planning to be home for dinner on Friday, so you can bring it up then. I¡¯ll try to nudge her in that direction, but¡­¡± He paused, eyes narrowing as if a new thought had just settled in, one that solidified whatever line he was about to draw. ¡°But I¡¯m only agreeing to get you Rina¡¯s ID. And let¡¯s be clear¡ªI¡¯m more than happy that that Luca guy is out of your life, and I plan to keep it that way. Valeria wouldn¡¯t even entertain the idea of handing over that criminal¡¯s ID, not in a million years; so don¡¯t bother trying.¡± The sudden steel in his voice caught me off guard. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d heard Oliver speak with that much conviction, or really, any conviction at all. It was like watching a new side of him crack through the surface. The way he spoke about Luca, like the guy was a walking storm cloud, told me there was absolutely no wiggle room here. And, honestly, I was fine with that. Tracking down Luca was the last thing on my to-do list. After everything Gabriel had let slip about him and original Sera¡¯s history, staying far, far away sounded like the smarter move anyway. The news that Valeria would be home for dinner¡ªthe same day I had my meeting with Vega¡¯s Operator contact¡ªsent a chill straight through me. Dinners with Valeria ranked pretty low on my list of ¡°favourite ways to spend an evening.¡± ¡°Deal; only Rina,¡± I said, holding out my hand to seal the agreement. To my surprise, Oliver¡¯s stern expression softened, and a smile broke through. Before I could question it, he shook my hand and added, ¡°You know, as much as you and Valeria don¡¯t always see eye to eye, you¡¯re more alike than you realise.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± was all I managed. He just chuckled, leaving me hanging, and smoothly switched topics. ¡°Say, Sera¡­ how are you feeling, really? It¡¯s been, what, about a month since we brought you back from the hospital? You¡¯ve been exploring the Megabuilding, hitting your stride again¡ªand putting on some impressive muscle, by the looks of it.¡± He paused, giving me a once-over that felt more like a concerned father and less like a casual check. ¡°But I have to ask¡­ are you actually okay? With all of this? The memory loss, the changes, living here?¡± I blinked, caught off guard by the unexpectedly deep line of questioning. Oliver wasn¡¯t exactly the type to go for heart-to-hearts¡ªor at least, that¡¯s what I¡¯d thought up until now. His questions weren¡¯t just in-depth; they were strangely specific, especially that last one. ¡®Living here¡­?¡¯ I repeated in my head, puzzled. What was he getting at with that? ¡°I¡¯m doing fine, really,¡± I said, still running through my thoughts, trying to figure out if there was something I was missing. ¡°The memory loss is¡­ well, it¡¯s annoying sometimes. But it¡¯s hard to feel the absence of something when you don¡¯t even know what it is you¡¯re missing, you know? Like, I can¡¯t exactly miss friends if I didn¡¯t even know I had any to start with, right?¡± Oliver¡¯s smile faltered a bit, like he was trying to keep it together but couldn¡¯t help the twinge of sympathy that crept in. Still, he stayed quiet, letting me speak. I decided to just be upfront with the rest. No point in skirting around it. ¡°And living here? I mean, I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re hoping to hear. You guys could stand to dust-off and vacuum around the apartment a bit more; it wouldn¡¯t kill anyone to do a little cleanup now and then. But other than that, no complaints. I guess it¡¯d be nice to have my own room, so I don¡¯t have to bunk with Gabe¡ª¡± I rambled off the list of minor inconveniences without much thought, but I stopped short when I noticed Oliver¡¯s expression hadn¡¯t changed. He was still looking at me, but there was an intensity in his eyes that told me I was off the mark. He was searching for something deeper, something I hadn¡¯t touched on, and I realised with a jolt that my answers weren¡¯t quite scratching the surface of whatever he really wanted to know. Oliver then chuckled, giving me a sheepish shrug. ¡°Thanks for being honest, Sera. I¡¯ll see what I can do about keeping things a bit cleaner around here. Though, between you and me, I doubt much will change with how work¡¯s been lately; sorry to say. OriginTech¡¯s got me so tangled up I¡¯m practically living there as it is¡­¡± He paused, glancing around the apartment as if seeing it through fresh eyes. ¡°To be fair, we¡¯d barely had a chance to get comfortable here ourselves before¡­¡± He trailed off, his gaze flicking to me and then away, as though he¡¯d said more than he meant to. ¡°Before the whole coma thing, I take it?¡± I asked, testing the waters. ¡°Yeah,¡± he nodded, a slight hesitation in his voice. ¡°We weren¡¯t exactly settled yet, you know? Place still doesn¡¯t feel¡­ Well, it doesn¡¯t quite feel like home yet.¡± He offered me a smile, but it was edged with something unspoken, something he wasn¡¯t ready to put into words. ¡°But you¡¯re doing well, I think. Seems like you¡¯re re-settling pretty quickly. That¡¯s good¡­ Very good.¡± ¡°Yeah, I mean¡­ I guess it¡¯s easier for me to settle when I don¡¯t remember anything else, I guess.¡± I laughed a bit, but Oliver¡¯s face didn¡¯t quite soften the way I thought it might. Instead, he nodded, looking almost thoughtful, like he was taking mental notes. ¡°Right,¡± he said, his voice a touch quieter. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ look, don¡¯t read too much into my questions. I just wanted to check in, see how things are feeling for you here.¡± He looked around the apartment again, his gaze lingering on a few odd spots¡ªareas where things were still a bit bare, like they¡¯d been filled in last-minute. ¡°If anything¡¯s bothering you around here, or there¡¯s anything you¡¯re missing, just say the word.¡± I frowned, unsure what he was getting at. ¡°It¡¯s fine, really. Some more space would be nice; like I said. But really, it¡¯s fine. Gabe¡¯s not horrible to room with,¡± I shrugged, trying to keep it light, but his eyes tightened, like he was focusing on every word. ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he said, nodding almost to himself. ¡°Just curious about how the recovery¡¯s coming along, you know? Nothing more.¡± His tone was casual, but I could feel there was something beneath it, something unspoken that made the conversation feel completely off. He clearly wasn¡¯t just asking out of concern. He was being strangely cryptic, maybe even a little guarded, which was completely outside the norm for Oliver. But with nothing concrete to go on, I decided to hold my tongue, watching him for any more hints instead. ¡°Well, anyway,¡± Oliver said, the warmth returning to his voice as he shifted back to his usual self, ¡°don¡¯t let me keep you. I¡¯m just going to grab a bite and crash for the night; got another round of runners coming in at dawn, so it¡¯ll be another short rest for me.¡± He offered a weary smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°It was nice catching up, Sera. Stay safe, alright?¡± ¡°Yeah, you too, Oliver. And thanks,¡± I replied, my voice carrying more casual confidence than I felt. He nodded once, his expression settling into a familiar blend of exhaustion and quiet concern before he turned his full attention to the fried ¡°rice¡± in front of him. The soft clinking of the utensils and the low hum of the fridge filled the space as I turned away. I crossed the short distance to the room Gabe and I shared, my mind still looping around the strange conversation with Oliver. ¡®What was up with him today? And what did he mean by ¡°living here¡±¡­?¡¯ The more I replayed it, the weirder it all felt. It was the kind of cryptic talk I¡¯d expect from Valeria, but Oliver? Not so much. I made a mental note to ask Gabe about it the next time we had a proper chat. Maybe there was something in the family¡¯s past that I was missing completely, some context that would make Oliver¡¯s questions make sense. But for now, I needed to stop chewing on all the thoughts inside my head before I drove myself crazy. It was going to take days, maybe weeks, for any of the things I had learned today to make sense, and I had more pressing things to focus on. With a sigh, I sank onto my bed, grabbing my deck and making myself comfortable. Before diving into my work, I did a quick end-of-day check on my account.
[=== Account: Seraphine Vildea ===] [Credits: 533 {c}]
¡°Sheesh¡­¡± I muttered with a grin. That was more Creds than I¡¯d ever seen in one place for myself. Vega and Mr. Stirling had both come through with their payments¡ª450 Credits for the weapon sale and another 120 for data collection¡ªwhich meant I finally had a little nest egg. And 533 credits? No matter how you sliced it, that was a lot of cash for someone like me. Gabe¡¯s words from earlier floated through my mind, about how long it had taken him to save up 570 credits for that SPG-01 shard. The basic ramen boxes at Mr. Shori¡¯s went for only 3 Credits each, so theoretically, I could buy 177 portions now. The thought of lying on this very bed surrounded by a mountain of ramen boxes made me giggle. But, of course, that wasn¡¯t what this money was for. I needed it if I was serious about upgrading myself and ensuring Jade was equipped to handle a real mission. The idea of putting her in danger didn¡¯t sit right with me, but the reality was that she might be my best bet as a partner going forward, especially for anything that required leaving the Megabuilding¡ªwhether it was the final data-collection task or some other Operator job. Jade had a well-travelled air about her, much like her sisters, and there was a decent chance she¡¯d been outside the Megabuilding before. Spending some creds to ensure she was better equipped and maybe even liked me a bit more felt like a solid investment. Plus, keeping her safe would keep Vega off my back, and avoiding a hit on my head seemed like a more than reasonable plan. I still needed to put together a proper Operator kit, too. Things like a grapple, rope, lightsticks, anti-flash glasses, lockpicks, and a small toolkit¡ªuseful, lightweight items that could fit into my backpack without slowing me down. ¡®Oh, and duct tape. Can¡¯t forget about duct tape,¡¯ I thought with a smirk, mentally adding it to my shopping list. Altogether, those items shouldn¡¯t eat too much into my budget, leaving enough credits to pick up anything Jade might need, or anything that I might stumble across, when we went out shopping. But all of that could wait until after the Operator meeting. That was priority number one. With those thoughts neatly squared away for later, I powered up the deck and dove back into my coding project, ready to get lost in the familiar rhythm of it all for the next eight-or-so hours¡­ Christmas Break Announcement + Update on Neon Dragons + Little Bonus Christmas Art EDIT (02/01/2025): Happy New Year, y''alls! Hope your start into 2025 has been better than mine, as I am still sick as a dog from my extended family visiting over Christmas already sick (they learned nothing from Covid). The good news is that the refactor is around 70% completed and the workshop for the next chapter is fully done. The bad news is that there won''t be a chapter today either. But we''ll be back on Monday with a new chapter guaranteed; not sure if the schedule will be fully re-instated by then, but I''m optimistic that I''ll get the refactor done fairly soon. Thank you for your patience!
EDIT (30/12/2024): To add insult to injury, I have also managed to get sick now; so that has drastically slowed down my refactoring of the novel. There will be no chapter today, possibly not on Thursday either, but I won''t claim that just yet. I am (foolishly) hopeful that I might be able to get it done by Thursday, or at the very least, write a chapter even if the entire refactor isn''t done yet. I don''t know how many times I can really apologise for this delay before it gets annoying, but I will still do it regardless: My sincerest apologies. I''ll keep you all updated, as per usual. Thank you for your patience!If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
EDIT (26/12/2024): Unfortunately, I have not been able to do any refactoring (or writing at all, really) over the Christmas days, so there will not be a new Neon Dragons chapter today :( I sincerely apologise for the continued lack of releases. Hopefully figured out how to move past this block by next week Monday (December 30th), but no promises. I''ll keep you all updated, as per usual. Thank you for your patience!
Hello everyone, LunaWolve here! Merry Christmas to everyone that celebrates and a wonderful holiday-period for those that do not. Today''s release is unfortunately not a Chapter, despite my best intentions to just keep the releases coming throughout the holiday period. Neon Dragons has recently been a bit too tough to write, between work stress and a larger refactor of how I want the story to continue as a result of people''s feedback on the novel over the past few months. This has resulted in multiple days of missed Chapters in recent weeks, which I am very apologetic about. I am currently in the process of reworking my general outline for Neon Dragons as a result of the aforementioned refactor, so hopefully once that''s done, Chapter releases will become more regular once again. That said, for today, I did prepare a little something. I had hoped that it would be accompanied by a Chapter, to make up for a lot of the recent misses, but alas, it will simply have to make up for today''s missing Chapter as well ?? Now, without further ado, here''s the promised Bonus Art and a Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday-time from our favourite girl, Sera! The full HD version and a slightly more spicy (semi-NSFW?) variant will be available on today''s Patreon release for Neon Dragons as well, as a thanks to all the patient Patrons that have supported the Novel over the recent, rough weeks of releases. Thank you, everyone, for continuing to love this little Novel of mine, despite it''s many flaws and the recent issues. I very much appreciate each and every one of you that still comes here every Monday and Thursday to look for new Chapters ??????. That''s all for today, the next Chapter will (hopefully) release on Thursday, 26th December, as per the regular schedule. Thank you, once again, for the support! -Merry X-Mas/Happy Holidays, LunaWolve Chapter 98 - Intuitive Handling The alarm blared, yanking me out of my coding trance with all the grace of a brick through a window. ¡°Ah, fuck¡­¡± I muttered, already feeling the weight of the new day pressing down as I scrambled to shut down my coding environment. The virtual world I¡¯d been immersed in shattered like glass, bits and bytes fading into nothing as the Deck¡¯s environment minimised out of existence. I blinked, realising I was half-sitting, half-sprawled across my bed in a position that should¡¯ve been undeniably uncomfortable hours ago. ¡®This¡­ is gonna suck,¡¯ I thought with a sigh, bracing myself as I tried to move. Eight solid hours in the same position had left my muscles as tight as a thoroughly rusted hinge, and every little shift sent sharp jolts of pain shooting through my limbs. If only I could just hit the Rest Function and recharge in an instant¡ªbut no, I was stuck on this relentless schedule for just a few more days. So, with a few muttered curses and some tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, I pushed through the aches and spasms. It took a good few minutes before I could move without feeling like I was being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles or trying to rip my own muscles in twine. Slowly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, joints popping in protest. The room was quiet, a silence only broken by my own, soft groans and protests. The lack of Gabriel¡¯s usual snoring confirmed he was already out for work, which was a relief¡ªwaking him up with my pitiful noises wasn¡¯t on today¡¯s to-do list. Needing a little boost to shake off the morning haze, I pulled up the System Notifications, hoping for some dopamine to reward my late-night grind. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s see¡­ What did I score for tonight¡¯s all-nighter?¡¯
[System]: 400xp gained for [Programming] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [Quick-Hacks] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for Intellect Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Manifestation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Anima Attribute.
¡°Great,¡± I muttered, feeling that familiar twinge of disappointment. It wasn¡¯t entirely unexpected¡ªmost of the XP for [Quick-Hacks] came from actual use in the field, especially when it involved breaking into tricky systems. The other majority of it came from actually completing a wholly new Subroutine or Segment. A mere 200xp after eight hours of work was disheartening, but not exactly unexpected. Still, it stung. The same amount of effort poured into almost any other skill would have netted way more experience. But I repeated the same words that I had been doing any time I had struggled with Kill Joy¡¯s lessons, something that had become a bit of a mantra to ward off frustration: ¡®Delayed gratification, Sera. That¡¯s all it is. The big rewards will come when you finish this. Just hang in there.¡¯ The [Programming] XP drop was definitely more substantial since I¡¯d been, well, programming. Even if most of my work involved copy-pasting chunks of pre-existing subroutine code and stitching them together, it still counted as real programming. Sure, piecing together snippets like that meant my overall XP gain was a bit lower, but it still beat staring at blank code lines. At the end of the day, progress was progress. Much like [Quick-Hacks], [Programming] rewarded finished products over half-done bits and pieces. So while I¡¯d picked up decent XP, the real jackpot would come when I finally completed the whole Subroutine. It was one of those Skills that preferred to go big or go home¡ªsprinkling in gains here and there but saving the bulk for the grand finale. Then there was [Manifestation]. I¡¯d been using it to hunt down specific code snippets faster, a trick I¡¯d picked up when working on tweaks to my Avatar. Was it a bit preposterous to use a reality-bending Skill that could conjure stuff from thin air like I was some demigod, as a glorified search function? Maybe. Probably. Almost certainly yes. But it worked, and it was miles better than sifting through lines with my eyes crossed, hoping I¡¯d picked the right keywords on the basic search function that IDEs came with. Not to mention, it seemed that the System even agreed, tossing me a bit of XP for both [Manifestation] and Anima. It wasn¡¯t a lot, just a tiny nudge, but it was proof that I hadn¡¯t offended the System-Gods by turning a god-like power into my personal search tool. If anything, it felt like a pat on the back for thinking outside the box; so I¡¯d take it without much complaining. ¡°So, what¡¯s on the agenda today¡­?¡± I muttered, trying to shake my brain out of the programming mode it had been trapped in for the past eight hours. It was like trying to remember how to prayer-flick after not having done so for a few months¡ªeverything felt a bit confusing and just a tad off. But after a few moments of squinting into space and rubbing my temples, my brain finally decided to play ball and work like it belonged to an actual person again. ¡°Ahh, right. Shopping.¡± With the Operator meeting just two days away and my next session at Miss K¡¯s Dojo literally tomorrow, today was my last chance to knock out all the shopping for my initial Operator setup¡ªsomething I considered non-negotiable if I wanted to make a good impression. Plus, Jade needed some new gear if she was going to be my navigator outside the Megabuilding when the time came for those inevitable off-site tasks. I pulled up my Contact List, found Jade¡¯s name rather quickly, as I didn¡¯t exactly have a huge amount of people on there yet, and typed out a quick, no-nonsense message to get the ball rolling.
[15:45 at Shori¡¯s Noodles. Bring your Credits. -Ela]
The time I picked would give me just enough room to finish my shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s, freshen up, and swap into my Operator outfit. The last thing I wanted was to show up to Misha¡¯s looking like I¡¯d been rolling in noodle broth all day. In Gryplik culture, honouring a crafter¡¯s work by showing up and actually using their created equipment any time it was in any way sensible to do so was kind of a big deal, and the last thing I wanted was to insult Misha¡¯s meticulous handiwork. Introducing Jade to Misha had me feeling a little jittery, though, all things considered. Misha was my secret ace when it came to scoring amazing deals on top-tier equipment. But I¡¯d already kind of committed to bringing Misha into the Clawed Beasts¡¯ orbit as a business contact last time I had visited her, so that train had long since left the station. Doubling back now would only add unnecessary stress to my already way-too-stressful day. Besides, maybe this connection could benefit all three of us in the long run¡ªthat was the hope, at least. But before any of that, I still had my daily routine to check off: A good Body training session to keep the muscles firing and the experience trickling in, a quick cleanup for that sweet [Maid] experience, and then my shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s. It was high-time to get the day moving¡­
Training, cleanup, and my shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s all went about as smoothly as I could¡¯ve hoped¡ªno unexpected chaos, no surprise stress, and, thankfully, no sketchy visitors half-threatening my life. Once I wrapped up the day¡¯s work, I ducked into the back-kitchen of Mr. Shori¡¯s stall to change. The space was just private enough for a quick swap, and I wasted no time slipping into my Operator outfit and stuffing my noodle-scented work clothes into the bag I¡¯d brought along. I caught my reflection in the mirror-like black screen that Mr. Shori had hung up at the back door, checking for any obvious marks or stains on my gear. It only took a glance to realise I¡¯d overlooked a pretty glaring detail: The blood splatter from yesterday¡¯s Data-Collection incident. A few faded, reddish smears had stubbornly clung to the fabric, mocking my half-hearted attempt at washing it out the night before. ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. I tilted my head, trying to decide whether Misha would be annoyed or proud about the stains. On one hand, they were proof that her work was being put to good use. On the other, showing up in blood-streaked gear could come across as sloppy¡ªor worse, disrespectful. I chewed on the thought for a moment before shrugging. It would probably balance out in the end, so a last-minute scrub down felt somewhat pointless. With that decision made, I shouldered my bag, waved a quick goodbye to Mr. Shori, who barely looked up from his pots, and stepped out into the bustle of the late afternoon. The familiar sounds and smells of the Megabuilding hummed around me as I glanced at the time. It read 15:24. ¡®Alright, time to wait for Jade.¡¯ Not wanting to waste what little downtime I had, I pulled up the System Notifications to check for any XP gains or progress updates from the morning and workday.
[System]: 200xp gained for [Contortion] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 300xp gained for [Athletics] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Stealth] Skill. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.[System]: 200xp gained for Edge Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Acrobatics] Skill. [System]: 300xp gained for [Maid] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 100xp gained for [Martial Arts] Skill. [System]: 200xp gained for [CQC] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute. [System]: 500xp gained for [Cooking] Skill. [System]: 300xp Bonus gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for [Negotiation] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Ego Attribute. [System]: 200xp gained for Intuition Attribute.
I nodded to myself, feeling a little surge of satisfaction. There was something undeniably nice about seeing a long list of XP gains, even if it wasn¡¯t as dramatic as the monster drop I¡¯d gotten after my last Data-Collection mission. Still, progress was progress, and this round was spread across a bunch of different Skills and Attributes instead of being focused on just one or two. ¡®Slow and steady progress,¡¯ I reminded myself. The standout from today¡¯s round of work was definitely the new Perk for [Negotiation] I¡¯d picked up, however: [Cultural Savant]. It had already proven itself during my shift at Mr. Shori¡¯s, paying off big time. Honestly, I should¡¯ve really expected it to kick in here, but seeing it flare to life in the middle of the shift had still been a big surprise. After all, where else would you find a melting pot of culturally diverse people than at a busy food stall? This place pulled in folks from all walks of life, and today was no exception. Throughout the day, it had pinged more than a dozen times, cluing me in on a customer¡¯s cultural background and giving me tailored pointers on how to best interact with them. What really got me, though, was how specific and accurate it really was. Two elderly customers who¡¯d come by for some ramen were about as classic old-school Japanese as you could get¡ªor ¡°Nihgon,¡± as [Cultural Savant] labelled it. The Perk nudged me to be extra polite, offer service immediately with a cold glass of water, a wet towel, and utensils, and keep my speech ultra-respectful. It was like having an instant crash course in proper etiquette pop into my head. Even Mr. Shori had noticed, pulling me aside after those customers left and giving me a rare compliment on my customer service skills. Coming from him, a literal multi-decade veteran in the business, that had felt amazing. Definitely a highlight of the day. But one thing had made me pause about the whole Perk situation: The Perk hadn¡¯t pinged for Mr. Shori himself at all. For someone who looked and acted so traditionally Japanese¡ªright down to speaking the language and moving with that practised, careful grace¡ªI¡¯d have expected [Cultural Savant] to give me some sort of heads-up. But nope. It was like it couldn¡¯t pin him down to any specific cultural marker whatsoever. Weird, to say the least. But not exactly unexpected, considering how mysterious Mr. Shori¡¯s background was overall. One day I¡¯d have to try and squeeze some information out from him, but I had bigger fish to fry at the moment. Aside from the Nihgon duo, which I realised was a cheeky nod by the developers back in my old world (basically a shorthand for ¡°Nihongo¡±, meaning ¡°Japanese¡±, with a Western twist), there¡¯d been a flood of more Hispanic and Latino-looking folks throughout the day. Those groups had their own developer-given cultural-group names, but between taking orders and making sure everything ran smoothly, I hadn¡¯t had the time to really focus on what they were called. The Perk had insisted I keep things moving fast for them¡ªapparently, they¡¯d been given an impatient trait in this world. Whether that matched up with real-life stereotypes from my last life? No clue. My world experience before all this was limited to a tiny village and a dead-end job, so I¡¯d hardly met anyone outside my own little bubble. Still, having [Cultural Savant] in my arsenal was proving way more useful than I¡¯d imagined, and I couldn¡¯t help but look forward to testing out just how far I could push it¡ªespecially when paired with [Polyglot]. Unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t gotten a chance to try out that combo yet; Mr. Shori had been watching me like a hawk throughout my entire shift, as he always did. It was one thing to nail some surface-level cultural nuances, but it was a whole different story to suddenly start speaking in a language I¡¯d never shown any familiarity with before. Mr. Shori had turned a blind eye to my flawless Japanese since day one, chalking it up to whatever explanation he found reasonable, but I couldn¡¯t rely on that leniency forever. I knew busting out random languages would raise more eyebrows than I was ready to handle. So, for now, I decided to play it safe and keep my overpowered Trait under wraps. Better to wait for the right moment than risk blowing my already fairly flimsy cover for a cheap flex. My train of thought came to a halt as I spotted Jade making her way toward me from a nearby alley. She looked the same as last time¡ªrocking her semi-functional Operator outfit that I was hoping to help her upgrade today. ¡°Hope you weren¡¯t waiting too long?¡± she said with an easy smile that caught me a bit off guard. It wasn¡¯t the usual nervous, half-intimidated vibe she gave off whenever we talked. This time, she greeted me like we were friends who met up regularly, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of happiness and suspicion. While I definitely wanted to make some friends and had been trying my best to signal this to Jade, I was under no illusions that I had been particularly successful with that. So the real question in my head was: ¡®What did Vega tell her to make her so chill around me all of a sudden¡­?¡¯ ¡°Nope, just wrapped up here,¡± I replied, doing my best to mirror her friendliness. I¡¯d need to figure out this new side of her before we got too deep into the day¡ªbest to know what was up before anything unexpected happened. ¡°You¡¯re in a chipper mood today. Something good happen?¡± Normally, I¡¯d dance around the point, trying to get a grasp on what was happening in a more subtle way, but today wasn¡¯t the time for my usual approach. Introducing Jade to Misha was important, both because Misha was an invaluable business partner and because she was¡­ well, precious. I couldn¡¯t let any strange tension mess that up, not when Misha¡¯s safety and my reputation were on the line. Jade¡¯s smile wavered as she scrunched her nose, weighing whether to tell me the truth. ¡°Well... I guess I can tell you, since you¡¯re kinda the reason for it,¡± she admitted, glancing at me. ¡°Vega gave me a pretty hefty bonus from that last trip and to prep me for today¡¯s shopping.¡± The big smile on her face fell, and her eyes dropped to the ground as she continued, ¡°He said I need better gear if I want to stay a viable option as your liaison, so¡­ yeah.¡± I nodded, noticing how her excitement dimmed at the mention of Vega¡¯s words. ¡®So, she¡¯s hyped about having a stack of Creds for shopping? Is that really enough to flip her attitude toward me a full 180¡­? Well maybe not a full 180, but enough to be like this, at least?¡¯ I wondered, trying to do a quick mental risk check. Realistically, what could Vega have said to make her more confident around me that he hadn¡¯t already tried? Unless he¡¯d pulled a move like, ¡°We¡¯ve got a sniper tailing her, so if she steps out of line, she¡¯s toast,¡± it didn¡¯t seem likely there¡¯d be a big shift. I figured he¡¯d probably exhausted all the usual pep talks to boost her confidence around me, but they hadn¡¯t seemed to do much until now. ¡®So is it really just about the Creds and the shopping then¡­?¡¯ I mean, I got it¡ªshopping for new, useful gear was kind of my jam, too. And from the sound of it, Jade really needed those upgrades, not just for what I had planned for her but probably for her own goals, whatever they were. Maybe a little financial boost was all it took? What really threw me off, though, was that my Intuition hadn¡¯t sent so much as a blip. Not even the smallest nudge that something was off in her behaviour. Now, Intuition wasn¡¯t a lie detector or some magical snake-charmer warning system, but it was good at picking up when something felt off compared to the usual¡ªunless, of course, someone with a higher Attribute or Skill was pulling the strings. At least, that was how the game theory went. The real kicker was that I wasn¡¯t actually in a game¡ªnot really. I¡¯d had that realisation more than once already: The people around me¡ª¡°NPCs¡± if I wanted to be cold and clinical about it, which honestly felt pretty damn psychotic to utter even in my own head¡ªdidn¡¯t operate on the same set of rules that the System did for me. They were unpredictable, layered, and, well, real. Even more real than I was, strangely enough. ¡®Ain¡¯t that a fucking nightmare of a thought¡­¡¯ Jade, for example, had me beat in most stealth scenarios, hands down. That had become glaringly obvious once again during our last outing together. She had this natural instinct for picking the best hiding spots and moved with a lightness that barely left a trace or made a sound. Sure, I could manage some of that too, thanks to my [Lightfoot] Perk, which helped me stay quiet through magical, downright reality-bending ways, but when it came to smooth, quick movements and finding the best cover in a split second, she was leagues above me still. But I had my strengths, too. My [Stealth] Skill gave me the edge in moving through crowded spaces without drawing attention¡ªsomething Jade hadn¡¯t quite mastered. It was clear that blending into a crowd wasn¡¯t part of her usual training; she focused more on traditional sneaking and hiding. That¡¯s one of the cases where it became obvious just how different the System worked for me compared to how the world worked for everyone else. For me, every Skill was a full-package deal. If I gained a Level in [Stealth], all parts of that Skill levelled up together, like some cheat-code that gave me a complete suite of abilities. But for everyone else, including Jade, it was a different story entirely. They had to train specific aspects individually¡ªkind of like how learning worked in my past life. Get good at hiding in the shadows? Sure. But unless you practise weaving through a crowd unnoticed, you¡¯re out of luck on that front. This ultimately brought up the big question: How exactly did my Intuition Attribute actually work here? If there wasn¡¯t a direct equivalent for general Attributes or Skills for everyone else, then what exactly was my Intuition measuring itself against? Was it just an arbitrary number? Did the System pull data from whatever information it could scrape together and try to fit it into my System-based framework? Or was it something completely different? The silence from my Intuition during this moment was maddening. It wasn¡¯t giving me any hint that Jade was off, just that her words matched what I knew about her. Meanwhile, the logical side of my brain kept whispering that there could be more to this sudden shift in her behaviour, but not really helping me figure out what it could be. The clash between my internal suspicions and my System-driven instincts was causing me all kinds of stress. ¡®Do I trust her or not¡­?¡¯ I wondered as Jade raised an eyebrow at me, a small smirk playing on her lips, as if to say, ¡°You still with me?¡± I realised I¡¯d been quiet for a moment too long, stuck in my head and overanalyzing the whole situation. Sure, it was important to think this stuff through, and I¡¯d definitely need to carve out some time later to dig into it, but right now, I needed to keep the momentum going. ¡°Ah, sorry,¡± I said, snapping back to reality and giving Jade a small grin. ¡°Just spaced out for a sec¡ªthought of something I need to deal with later. If you¡¯re good to go, let¡¯s get moving.¡± For now, I decided to trust Jade, even though the whole Intuition thing was nagging at the back of my mind. If things went sideways, I felt pretty confident I could handle myself against her, and Misha, despite being as precious as she was, had enough firepower in her Emporium to hold her own. Armour, weapons, gadgets¡ªyou name it, she had it all tucked away in that little treasure trove of hers; I had seen so first-hand. Even if the Clawed Beasts did decide to pull something, I doubted they¡¯d be able to cause real damage before the floor¡¯s security personnel stepped in and put an end to it. That thought alone gave me a bit of reassurance as Jade gave me a quick nod and adjusted her bag, looking surprisingly ready considering she had no real idea what I had planned for her. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get to the elevators then. Goal¡¯s on the 31st,¡± I said before turning and taking the lead. It was time to introduce Jade and the Clawed Beasts to the best equipment store clerk in the whole goddamn city¡­ Chapter 99 - Unexpected Encounters PoV: Jade Following Ela up to the 31st floor, Jade could barely contain her excitement. She practically bounced with every step, the kind of giddy energy that only came from knowing you had a pocket full of Credits and permission to blow it all on yourself. Sure, she was a little on edge around Ela¡ªhow could anyone not be when dealing with someone so¡­ just strange!¡ªbut the thrill of the shopping spree ahead more than made up for it. Having Citrina shadowing them definitely helped ease her nerves, too. After the run-in with the Golden Phoenix enforcers, there was no question the gang had gathered at least some level of intel on both her and Ela. Vega wasn¡¯t taking any chances. He¡¯d decreed that for the foreseeable future, Jade couldn¡¯t leave the Clawed Beasts¡¯ controlled floors without either Ruby or Citrina in tow. The decision made complete sense to her, so she hadn¡¯t complained. Ruby and Citrina were the only sisters with both licences and whitelisted firearms that could legally be carried inside the Megabuilding, making them the clear picks for protection detail. While Emira might have been the most skilled in pure combat, her specialisation in close-quarters made her a poor choice for situations that could require a quick, ranged response. If a fight broke out unexpectedly and suddenly, Emira would likely be too far from the action to intervene in time, considering the distance required to make sure Ela wouldn¡¯t be able to pick up on her and Jade being shadowed. ¡®But retaliation?¡¯ Jade smirked to herself. ¡®Yeah, Emira would definitely shine there.¡¯ Still, Jade felt more content than she had in years. It wasn¡¯t just the Credits burning a hole in her pocket or Citrina¡¯s presence at her back, of course. No, the main reason she was practically feeling like she was on Shine¡ªor what she imagined Shine to feel like, at least¡ªwas because Vega had been genuinely pleased with the outcome of her last mission. Sure, the job hadn¡¯t gone off without a hitch, and Vega had been understandably rattled by the possibility of inter-gang complications, but the intel she¡¯d brought back more than made up for it. Not only had she delivered actionable insights about Ela, but she¡¯d also managed to uncover details about the Golden Phoenix¡¯s operations. And let¡¯s not forget the pre-war gun she¡¯d secured through the deal with Ela¡ªa weapon that had gotten Vega¡¯s attention immediately. For once, her report had been met with untainted approval rather than a mixture of reluctant acceptance and chiding. It was her first true success, at least when it came to solo missions, and that feeling alone was enough to put her on cloud nine. If this was what winning felt like, Jade could absolutely get used to it. ¡®I¡¯ve totally earned this shopping trip!¡¯ she thought with a grin so big it practically lit up her face. But a flicker of doubt crept in as her thoughts shifted. ¡®I just hope Ela doesn¡¯t take me somewhere crazy expensive¡­ I¡¯ve got some Creds, but who knows what her usual budget even looks like?¡¯ Her eyes darted to Ela¡¯s hair again, drawn to the unnerving, VoniX-black void that seemed to consume light rather than reflect it. It was hard to look at without wondering why anyone would pick such a strange colour for their hair, unless they wanted to stand out. Yet the more time she spent around Ela, the more it started to click. The hair, like the girl herself, was unusual¡ªbut also fitting in an odd way. Still, it wasn¡¯t the hair or even Ela¡¯s general strangeness that had Jade¡¯s attention right now. No, what really lit her up with excitement was the thought of the gear. Ela¡¯s outfit, despite everything they¡¯d gone through on their last outing, hadn¡¯t taken so much as a scratch. It had even withstood the bullets of the guards on the 33rd floor, shrugging off damage like it was nothing. ¡®If I could get my hands on something like that, Vega might finally stop babying me all the time!¡¯ Sure, Jade appreciated how protective Vega was, but it felt overbearing, especially when compared to how her older sisters were treated. They got sent on high-risk missions regularly while she was kept in a proverbial bubble. She couldn¡¯t help but pout a little, the thought nagging at her. ¡®Sometimes it feels like he sees me as more of a pet than an actual asset¡­¡¯ Her spiral of frustration was cut short by Ela¡¯s voice. ¡°We¡¯re almost there,¡± Ela said, glancing back at her with just a hint of amusement. ¡°Quick heads-up: Misha¡¯s a bit¡­ unique.¡± There was something in Ela¡¯s tone¡ªan almost playful glee¡ªthat made Jade pause. It was rare to hear such unfiltered emotion from her, and it was enough to catch Jade off guard. The other, and potentially even more disturbing, part of that sentence, however, had her on high-alert. ¡®What do you mean, they¡¯re a bit unique¡­? Coming from you? Just what the fuck kind of place are you taking me here¡­?¡¯ ¡°Follow my lead, and you¡¯ll be fine,¡± Ela continued, her voice confident but tinged with that same mysterious excitement. ¡°I¡¯ll introduce you two; I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll hit it off. Oh, and whatever you do, do not insult her wares. Should go without saying, but better safe than sorry, right?¡± Ela finished her little speech with a self-satisfied nod, the kind she always seemed to give after saying something she clearly thought was profound. It was an odd quirk, but Jade found it surprisingly endearing. For all the mystery surrounding Ela, moments like these gave her a rare, almost human charm¡ªsomething that was easy to forget in the shadow of the unreadable vibes she gave out. Naturally, Jade had no intention of behaving like a complete fucking blank and doing something as stupid as insulting a vendor¡¯s wares. That was one of the fastest ways to either get yourself banned or, depending on where you shopped, end up dead. ¡®Not to mention Vega¡¯s counting on me to build a solid contact here,¡¯ she thought, her mind drifting back to his orders. ¡®Or at least for him and the crew¡ªthe gang¡¯s more of a bonus, I guess.¡¯ The Clawed Beasts already had a decent network of vendors with deeper ties, but Vega was always looking to expand outside of the gang¡¯s own network. The guy¡¯s ambitions were practically sky-high, and new contacts were crucial to those plans. Jade followed Ela through the 31st floor for another minute before they stopped in front of an odd-looking storefront. The only thing marking it as a shop was the neon sign above the entrance that read ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium.¡± ¡®Emporium?¡¯ Jade thought, furrowing her brow. ¡®Who even uses that word?¡¯ The sign felt decidedly out of place, like it belonged to a dusty antiques shop rather than a spot that supposedly sold high-tech gear. But she shook off the thought, snapping herself back into focus. ¡®Stay focused. Open mind, Jade. Open mind.¡¯ She took a steadying breath, glancing at Ela, who seemed completely at ease. ¡®Ela wouldn¡¯t drag me here just for fun¡­ At least, I don¡¯t think so¡­?¡¯ "Alright, this is the place," Ela said, her voice casual as she gestured vaguely toward the glowing Misha¡¯s Emporium sign. "Owner¡¯s name is Misha, as you probably guessed." She hesitated, like she was considering saying more, but then just shook her head and added, ¡°Just follow my lead,¡± before stepping through the door. Jade trailed behind, keeping her senses sharp. Technically, this was just a shopping trip, but being around Ela¡¯s strange, unpredictable energy always had a way of putting her on edge. Inside, they stepped into a reception-like area with a counter set against the far wall and a thick, reinforced door blocking off the actual store. The setup struck Jade as odd, though not particularly surprising given the range of bizarre places she¡¯d seen. ¡°Misha? Ela is here, and brought a friend!¡± Ela suddenly yelled, her voice echoing off the walls and snapping Jade out of her thoughts. Jade shot Ela a look, half-annoyed and half-confused. What kind of place needed customers to shout for service? To her surprise, however, Ela responded with an actually genuine, apologetic expression. They both turned their attention to the security door, waiting for whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªwas on the other side to show up. ¡®Seriously? What kind of store operates like this?¡¯ Jade thought, crossing her arms as they stood in silence. ¡®Ela wasn¡¯t kidding when she said the owner was a bit¡­ unique, huh?¡¯ After about thirty seconds of awkward waiting, Ela gave Jade a sheepish grin, signaling that she was going to try again. Jade gave a small nod, letting her annoyance go for now. ¡°Misha! Ela is here! Ela brought a fri¡ª¡± Before Ela could finish, something shot out from the side, tackling her like a bullet and slamming her to the ground with a resounding thud. "Ah!" Ela yelped as she hit the floor with a loud crash. Jade moved on instinct, knives flashing into her hands as she stepped toward the blur of movement. But then, just as quickly, she froze mid-step, her mind trying to process what she was looking at. ¡®What in the actual fuck is that?!¡¯ Jade¡¯s eyes widened in horror as she took in the nightmare perched on top of Ela. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. It was unrecognisable, wrong in every conceivable way, like something plucked straight from the depths of a fever dream. Ela, meanwhile, didn¡¯t seem nearly as alarmed as Jade thought she should be. Instead, she groaned in frustration, pinned beneath the creature like this was just another mildly annoying inconvenience. The thing had a vaguely humanoid shape, though it was stretched and distorted to absurdity. If it stood upright, it would¡¯ve easily hit two meters tall, its elongated arms and legs bending at an unnatural third joint where no joint had any right to exist. Seven spindly digits on each hand clawed at Ela, while its head swivelled back and forth, rotating unnaturally fast as if searching for something. ¡®I¡­ I have to help her!¡¯ Jade thought, willing her frozen body to move. But the sheer size of the thing¡ªcombined with the fact that it had taken Ela, the seemingly indestructible enigma, to the ground in a single leap¡ªhad her locked in place. Her knives were raised, ready to strike, but her feet wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡°Ouch, Misha! That fucking hurt!¡± Ela¡¯s voice cut through the tension, her tone more exasperated than anything else. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Ela brought a potential customer, not an intruder! Stop making a bad first impression here!¡± ¡®Wait¡­ Misha?!¡¯ Jade¡¯s mind reeled. Her eyes darted around the room, expecting to find someone¡ªanyone¡ªelse who might step in and help. But the only movement was the creature itself, still latched onto Ela. Ela sighed dramatically, already pushing herself up from the floor despite the creature clinging to her like some kind of grotesque parasite. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get Misha off of Ela, shall we?¡± ¡°Misha doesn¡¯t want to! Misha¡¯s been lonely!¡± the creature suddenly whined in near-perfect human speech. Its voice was high-pitched, almost childish, with a faint hiccup of swallowed syllables that gave away its inhuman nature. Jade could only gape, her knives still poised, her brain scrambling to process what she was witnessing. ¡®What the actual fuck is even happening?¡¯ Ela stood fully upright now, the creature still clinging to her upper body with its freakishly long limbs wrapped around her like a grotesque hug. She showed no sign of strain, as if the creature¡¯s weight¡ªeasily 100+ kilograms, by Jade¡¯s estimation¡ªwas nothing to her. ¡®Just how fucking strong is she?!¡¯ Jade thought, her mind finally latching onto a coherent question. Spindly or not, that thing had a ridiculous size, and thus, mass, and Ela had just casually stood up with it on top of herself, like it was simply a blanket she¡¯d thrown on. Shaking her head, Jade forced herself to focus on the more pressing realisation. ¡®Wait¡­ hold up. That¡¯s Misha? The store clerk is a fucking monster?¡¯ She lowered her knives slightly, still staring slack-jawed as Ela patted the creature¡ªMisha, apparently¡ªon the back like it was just an overly affectionate friend, while giving her an apologetic smile once again, as if to say, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not dangerous.¡± Whatever Jade had expected from this trip, this was definitely not it.
Getting cannon-balled by Misha wasn¡¯t exactly on my to-do list for this trip, but seeing as Misha was still clinging to me like a barnacle after I¡¯d asked to be let go, I couldn¡¯t really stay mad. ¡®Lonely, huh?¡¯ I thought, my irritation softening. ¡®Guess that makes two of us. Even with all the people I¡¯ve been around lately, it¡¯s not really company when you¡¯re constantly having to pretend¡­¡¯ I glanced at Jade, who still looked like she was debating whether to bolt or fight. Her wide eyes darted between me and Misha, clearly struggling to process the entire situation. I gave her an apologetic grin, hoping to calm her down. With Misha¡¯s sudden appearance¡ªor, honestly, just Misha¡¯s appearance in general¡ªshe looked just about ready to unravel. ¡°Misha, Ela isn¡¯t going anywhere for a while, okay? But can we at least acknowledge Ela¡¯s friend? Say hi?¡± I tried to pull Jade into the interaction, feeling like a terrible host even though this wasn¡¯t even my store. Honestly, Misha was being a particularly uncooperative shopkeeper today. With a dramatic huff, Misha swivelled their head a full 180 degrees, locking eyes with Jade in a way that made the poor girl yelp and leap back a step. To her credit, though, she didn¡¯t raise her knives this time¡ªsmall victories. ¡°Misha welcomes Ela¡¯s friend to Misha¡¯s Emporium,¡± Misha said in a robotic tone, the words as formal as they were clearly scripted. Then, just as abruptly, their head spun back around, and they buried their face in my chest again. ¡°Misha has been very lonely,¡± they muttered, voice muffled but pitiful. ¡°Lots of annoying people recently; none that understand how to speak. They hurt Misha¡¯s head with their language! ¡°He¡± this, ¡°She¡± that, ¡°You¡± this! They make no sense! Misha is very upset and requires Ela-time before any business can be conducted.¡± It was delivered with the same energy as a child demanding dessert before dinner, and I couldn¡¯t help but let out a resigned sigh. We were not going to get anywhere before Misha had gotten her Ela-time, it seemed. Carefully moving toward the counter, I couldn¡¯t help but feel relieved that Misha was a Gryplik rather than human. If Misha had a more human bone and muscle structure, they¡¯d have weighed at least twice as much, if not more, and there was no way I¡¯d have been able to haul them around so easily. I gently set Misha down on the counter, trying to pry myself free from their clingy grip without upsetting her further. ¡°How¡¯s business been lately, Misha? Outside of the annoying people, of course,¡± I asked casually, partly to make conversation but also because I was genuinely curious. Every time I came by, Misha seemed to be lounging behind the counter like she didn¡¯t have a care in the world. I¡¯d always wondered if that meant the shop was thriving or just coasting by. ¡°Business has been acceptable. Misha is the greatest Gryplik merchant, after all!¡± she declared with a defiant tone, puffing up proudly, although still thoroughly refusing to let go. ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium is doing very well, but it can always do better!¡± I saw my opening and gestured for Jade to come closer. She was still hovering a good distance away, clearly trying to maintain some sort of safety zone between herself and Misha. ¡°Funny Misha mentions that!¡± I said, leaning into the opportunity. ¡°Ela brought a friend, Jade, who might help bring in more business. Jade has lots of contacts that might need Misha¡¯s wares in the future.¡± I turned to Jade, giving her a nod to take over and steer the conversation. She blinked at me, looking confused¡ªborderline panicky¡ªbefore hesitantly stepping closer. Her eyes flicked between me and Misha, and I could tell she was still half ready to bolt if things got too weird again. ¡°Ahhh, yes. Hello, Misha,¡± Jade began, her voice wavering. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ ehhh¡­ Jade. Jade is Jade¡­?¡± She glanced at me for approval, and despite how awkward it sounded, I nodded encouragingly. For someone who¡¯d seemingly never heard of, seen, let alone spoken to, a Gryplik before, she was picking up on their language quirks surprisingly fast. ¡®I probably should¡¯ve briefed her on this,¡¯ I thought, wincing internally. ¡®But how was I supposed to know Misha would already be in a mood about it before we even got here¡­?¡¯ What had been an attempt to avoid overloading Jade with too much info beforehand was now backfiring spectacularly, making it look like I¡¯d withheld something on purpose just to mess with her. ¡°Jade has some friends who are always on the lookout for new business contacts,¡± Jade continued, her voice growing steadier with each word. ¡°Jade would like to take a look at Misha¡¯s wares to see what kind of equipment might interest Jade¡¯s friends¡ªwhenever it¡¯s convenient for Misha, of course.¡± ¡®Not bad¡­¡¯ I thought, giving her a subtle nod of approval as I continued trying to peel Misha off my chest. It was like trying to remove a particularly clingy octopus. ¡°Mmm¡­ yes,¡± Misha said after a thoughtful pause, her crystal-like eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°Misha thinks it¡¯s a good idea. Business is always a good idea.¡± She finally started loosening her grip, letting me pry her hands from my back, but then her tone shifted as she added, ¡°But Ela has to stay for at least an hour!¡± Her gem-like ruby eyes glinted with a look I could only describe as defiant. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how I could read defiance in something that looked like a multi-faceted gemstone, but there it was, clear as day. Meanwhile, [Cultural Savant] was pinging like crazy, feeding me a flood of details about Gryplik customs and norms. I tried to push it to the back of my mind for now¡ªI didn¡¯t need a cultural masterclass in the middle of handling this situation. That could wait until I had downtime, maybe when Misha was busy showing Jade some gear. ¡°That¡¯s fine with Ela, Misha,¡± I said gently, finally managing to set the Gryplik down on the counter, now completely free of her octopus-like grip. ¡°Ela doesn¡¯t have any real plans today beyond shopping for gear with Jade, so the two of us can stay here for a while.¡± Misha gave a satisfied hum, resting comfortably on the counter as though the entire tackle-hug situation had been completely normal. Jade, still standing a little stiffly nearby, cast me a sideways glance that screamed ¡°What the hell did I just get into?¡± I shot her another small, reassuring smile. It was going to be a long hour¡­
¡°So what can Misha help Ela and Jade with¡­?¡± the Gryplik asked as she led us into the main store a few minutes later. The interior was just as chaotic and uncoordinated as ever, a mess of shelves, crates, and items scattered seemingly at random. Thanks to [Cultural Savant], I now understood this wasn¡¯t just Misha being disorganised¡ªthis was a Gryplik cultural thing. Apparently, the lack of organization was a flex, of sorts. The more chaotic a space appeared and the faster a Gryplik could locate something within it, the smarter they were considered to be. It was a test of intellect, and negatively commenting on it would be a major faux pas. ¡®Good to know,¡¯ I thought, keeping my mouth shut as Misha proudly gestured around at the glorious chaos of her shop. I glanced at Jade and gestured for her to take the lead. I figured it made more sense to let her pick out what she needed before I started shopping for myself. Technically, I already had everything I needed for the Operator Meeting, so anything I picked up today would just be extras or accessories. But Jade? She still had some serious gaps in her gear, and if she ended up unable to afford something crucial because I¡¯d already blown all my creds, I¡¯d feel like an ass. She needed to be ready for the possibility of excursions outside the Megabuilding, and I wanted to make sure she had what she needed for that. Jade hesitated for a moment, glancing at me as if silently asking for permission before stepping forward. Misha¡¯s attention immediately snapped to her, those unsettling ruby-crystal eyes gleaming with curiosity. ¡°Jade would like a high-quality outfit, like Ela¡¯s,¡± Jade said, her voice steady but with a hint of hesitation. ¡°Something to keep knives and bullets away, but not too bulky or heavy. The actual design doesn¡¯t matter too much¡ªJade needs it to be functional first and foremost.¡± Mid-sentence, she stole a glance at me, as if checking whether I¡¯d be upset about her request. The concern caught me off guard, but I kept my expression neutral, not sure if reassuring her again would make her feel better or just make things worse. ¡®Why would I be mad?¡¯ I thought, genuinely perplexed. ¡®It¡¯s the most logical thing to ask for¡ªmy gear literally saved both of our lives back on the 33rd.¡¯ Despite everything, it seemed Jade still saw me as some kind of ticking time bomb rather than a potential ally or, hell, even a friend. Clearly, I still had work to do if I wanted to break through that wall of caution she kept around me. ¡°Mmm, yes, yes! Misha can definitely help with that. Leave it to Misha!¡± the Gryplik announced. Without warning, Misha stepped up to Jade and began running her seven-digit hands over Jade¡¯s body, sizing her up in the most literal sense. Jade froze, her posture stiffening like she was about to bolt, before visibly forcing herself to relax. Still, I couldn¡¯t blame her¡ªthe sensation of those alien hands wandering over you wasn¡¯t something even I had fully gotten used to yet. Moments later, Misha darted off into a mountain of what could only loosely be called ¡°inventory,¡± rummaging through piles of clothes, armor, and gear with the manic energy of a scavenger on Glitter. Jade shuffled closer to me, her gaze flicking toward the whirlwind that was Misha. ¡°Your¡­ friend¡­ is indeed unique, Ela. Didn¡¯t lie about that, for sure,¡± she said cautiously, clearly not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of whatever chaos Misha was creating. ¡°That she is,¡± I replied with a chuckle. ¡°Sorry for not giving you more details ahead of time. I wasn¡¯t sure if overloading you with a full dossier would help or just stress you out more. But hey, you picked up the language thing really quickly, so I¡¯m impressed. As you¡¯ve probably noticed, Gryplik don¡¯t use singular pronouns for people¡ªonly group ones. Oh, and a heads-up: Don¡¯t mention the chaos here negatively. It¡¯s a cultural thing.¡± Jade raised an eyebrow at me, her disbelief evident as she leaned in and whispered, ¡°She¡¯s a fucking Gryplik?! That¡¯s what they look like?!¡± I shrugged, keeping my response simple. ¡°Yep.¡± Her gaze shifted back to Misha, who was darting between piles of equipment, tossing items left and right while muttering in that characteristic Gryplik way. ¡°I¡¯ve only heard about Gryplik from history shards¡ªyou know, the Demi-Human Accords, general pre-Wall stuff,¡± Jade murmured, her tone quieter now, as though not wanting Misha to overhear. That bit of knowledge surprised me, and it must¡¯ve shown on my face because Jade quickly added, ¡°Yeah, Vega made sure we all got some kind of education after he took us in. He found shards about all sorts of stuff. It¡¯s probably nothing compared to yours, but it does the trick.¡± The mention of ¡°nothing compared to yours¡± piqued my curiosity, and I was half-inclined to ask what exactly she meant with that¡ªto get a clearer grasp on what exactly she thought I actually was¡ªbut before I could, Misha swooped back in, her impossibly long arms piled high with clothes. ¡°Misha has returned with the best selection of clothes available in all of Neo Avalis!¡± she declared triumphantly, dumping the heap in front of Jade with a grin full of sharp, green-coloured teeth. ¡°Let Misha show Jade the features¡­!¡± Misha added, already beginning to sort through the pile with an enthusiasm that was as endearing as it was overwhelming¡­ Chapter 100 - Friends Watching Jade try to keep her composure while Misha¡ªwho looked every bit like a creature from someone¡¯s nightmares¡ªenthusiastically threw clothes at her and poked at every conceivable part of her body was hands-down one of the funniest things I¡¯d seen in ages. Misha, as always, had absolutely no sense of any personal boundaries, prodding and tugging at spots no one wanted to be touched in public, let alone by a seven-digited Gryplik on a mission; much to Jade¡¯s groaning and yelping surprise. The whole scene did wonders for my mood. It washed away the exhaustion lingering from my all-night coding marathon and dulled the edge of the anxiety buzzing in the back of my mind about everything I still needed to prep for the Operator meeting. For a moment, it was just pure comedy gold¡ªJade¡¯s stiff, mortified reactions and Misha¡¯s relentless enthusiasm creating a perfect storm of chaos. Misha had brought out four separate outfits, all designed to showcase different features, and was urging Jade to try them on in rapid succession. She didn¡¯t just hand over the clothes, though¡ªno, that would¡¯ve been far too simple. Instead, Misha took it upon herself to assist, pulling, prodding, and pushing Jade into different positions to highlight the flexibility or defensive capabilities of each piece. Watching the poor girl get manhandled like a mannequin was nothing short of magical. ¡®Man, I wish my eyes had a recording function right now¡­¡¯ I thought wistfully, already imagining replaying this moment whenever I needed a laugh. ¡®I should seriously save up for some basic upgrades like that.¡¯ In the game, there¡¯d been a ton of cybernetic eye implants with features like video capture, but Sera¡¯s body clearly didn¡¯t have anything of the sort. I¡¯d checked her basic systems three times in the last few minutes, just to be sure. No luck. Jade shot me a series of desperate, pleading glances, her wide, light-green eyes silently begging for help. I met her gaze with my best reassuring mentor expression and gave her a steady nod, pretending I didn¡¯t understand her plight at all. ¡®Sorry, Jade. If I¡¯m going to potentially chip in for your gear, I¡¯m at least getting a comedy show out of it.¡¯ As if reading my mind, Misha didn¡¯t miss a beat, launching into a spirited explanation of the outfit she was currently holding up to Jade. ¡°This one is very special!¡± Misha began, practically bouncing on the balls of her elongated feet. ¡°Closest thing to what Ela has. Misha used the same cut of Aramid and Synthweave Composites! Anti-stab and anti-bullet, just like Ela¡¯s gear!¡± Jade¡¯s eyes widened as she reached out to touch the fabric, tentatively running her fingers over it. ¡°Oh, uh¡­ it¡¯s very nice,¡± she managed, clearly trying to give some sort of feedback while keeping one wary eye on Misha, who was already rummaging through the chaos around them. ¡°Misha will show Jade how strong it is!¡± the Gryplik declared, her ruby-like eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. Her seven-digited hands suddenly produced a long-knife seemingly out of thin air, the blade catching the dim light in a way that made Jade visibly recoil. ¡°Nope¡ªuh, nope, that¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s fine!¡± Jade said quickly, backing away a step with her hands raised. Panic flickered across her face as she tried to calm Misha down. ¡°Jade doesn¡¯t need a demonstration! Jade already saw how Ela¡¯s outfit worked! Knives, bullets¡ªyep, saw them all! Totally convinced!¡± Misha tilted her head, the motion eerily rapid and fluid alike, being just a little unsettling. ¡°But Jade must see how this one performs! Misha promises it is just as good as Ela¡¯s, maybe even better!¡± ¡°Nope, totally believe Misha!¡± Jade said, her voice climbing a pitch as she waved her hands in front of her and continued to back away from Misha. ¡°Jade doesn¡¯t need to see anything! Jade believes Misha completely, one hundred percent!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but stifle a laugh, watching Jade try to talk down the overzealous Gryplik while simultaneously keeping her distance from the blade. Misha seemed genuinely confused by Jade¡¯s reluctance, though she slowly lowered the knife, muttering something about humans being weird in Gryplik. ¡°Misha only wanted to help¡­¡± she said, her tone dropping slightly into something almost sulky as she placed the knife down on a nearby counter¡ªthough where that counter even came from was as much a mystery as the knife itself. Jade gave me another wide-eyed look, as if silently begging for backup, but I just grinned. ¡°See? Misha¡¯s got your back,¡± I said with a chuckle. Jade shot me a glare that clearly said, This is not funny, but I just shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re in good hands,¡± I added, nodding toward Misha, who had already turned back to the pile of clothes to grab yet another item. ¡°Jade will love this next one!¡± Misha announced, her earlier energy snapping back like a rubber band. Jade groaned softly under her breath, clearly resigned to whatever whirlwind Misha was about to throw at her next. I took the chance to let the live comedy show in front of me¡ªthe ongoing chaos between Misha and Jade¡ªfade into the background. It seemed like the perfect moment to dive deeper into the [Cultural Savant] Perk that had been pinging incessantly ever since we¡¯d entered the store. With Misha fully absorbed in her whirlwind of outfit demonstrations and Jade too distracted trying to survive them, neither of them was likely to notice if I spaced out for a bit. I hadn¡¯t had many opportunities to use [Cultural Savant] so far. The earlier interaction with the Nihgon pair at Mr. Shori¡¯s had been more surface-level, relying on quick tips rather than exploring the full depth of what the Perk could do. Now, with a bit of downtime, I figured it was time to see just how far I could push it. Focusing on the odd sensation behind my right eye¡ªthe part of my brain that seemed to hum whenever the Perk activated¡ªI felt a gentle stream of information begin to flow into my thoughts. It wasn¡¯t like reading a manual or wiki entry. Instead, it was more like receiving concise, practical instructions, tailored to the moment: One- or two-sentence summaries on how to act, what to say, and what to avoid. For Misha, being a Gryplik, much of what the Perk told me were things I¡¯d already picked up, like: ¡°Do not use singular pronouns; only group ones. Substitute them with names instead.¡± That wasn¡¯t new. But when I focused on it more deeply, the Perk offered context I hadn¡¯t fully known before: ¡°Gryplik society evolved without the need for individual pronouns as they see themselves as a collective. Gryplik body language is very effective at singling out individuals in a group, and the Gryplik language offers unique intonations to distinguish between members without relying on Names or pronouns.¡± The deeper explanation made sense, but what caught my attention was the odd way the Perk flagged the concept of a ¡°Name.¡± The word felt strange, almost like it came with invisible air quotes in my mind every time I thought about it, as if the concept of a ¡°Name¡± carried extra weight or maybe a level of artificiality within Gryplik society. ¡®Why is that¡­?¡¯ I wondered, zeroing in on the sensation behind my eye as I tried to dig deeper into the strange air-quote feeling around the word ¡°Name.¡± With the idea that it might be tied to Gryplik culture, I pushed harder, and [Cultural Savant] rewarded me with an explanation that made the odd discrepancy click into place. ¡°Gryplik ¡®Names¡¯ are not the same as human ones. They are earned, functioning more like Titles. A ¡®Named¡¯ Gryplik has done something extraordinary, either considered to be positive for Gryplik-kind or negative, and their ¡®Name¡¯ reflects that accomplishment. When interacting with other races, Gryplik often translate their earned ¡®Names¡¯ into the local language.¡± ¡®Huh¡­ so Misha isn¡¯t just her name¡ªit¡¯s an earned title, translated into Standard¡­?¡¯ I mused, my eyes drifting over to the Gryplik in question. Misha was still darting around Jade, poking and prodding her like a hyperactive stylist with zero concept of personal space. This was new information for me. I¡¯d never delved this deep into Gryplik culture back in my previous life, so the idea of earned names being titles rather than identifiers was fascinating. It added a whole new layer of meaning to every interaction I¡¯d ever had with Misha¡ªI had practically been calling her by her earned title this entire time without even realising. [Cultural Savant] was proving to be more in-depth than I¡¯d initially thought, but it was also maddeningly specific. It seemed to only provide information directly tied to the interaction at hand, which meant it wasn¡¯t about to turn into a cultural encyclopedia for me to browse at will. For instance, no matter how much I tried to focus on the concept of Gryplik earning their names, the Perk stayed silent. The moment I pushed beyond the immediate relevance of the current situation, [Cultural Savant] shut down like a stubborn guide refusing to give me spoilers. I also couldn¡¯t revisit entries from earlier interactions, like the Nihgon pair I¡¯d dealt with at Mr. Shori¡¯s stall. The Perk seemed locked into the present moment, only dishing out context that was immediately useful for [Negotiation] or social navigation. ¡®I guess that does make some sort of sense,¡¯ I thought, leaning back against a nearby counter and continuing to watch the chaos unfold between Misha and Jade. ¡®It¡¯s not a wiki-Perk¡ªit¡¯s designed for practical use, not lore-dumping every culture in existence. It¡¯d be kind of ridiculous if it just handed me a full dossier on every race or group the moment I asked, huh?¡¯ Still, the lack of freedom was a little frustrating. I could¡¯ve spent hours diving into the intricacies of Gryplik culture, but I had to settle for whatever crumbs [Cultural Savant] decided were relevant to the current situation. Still, the fact that Misha¡¯s name was actually a translated title got my brain spinning with possibilities. ¡®If it¡¯s technically a translated name from Gryplik, shouldn¡¯t I be able to reverse it¡­?¡¯ I thought, my curiosity kicking into high gear. With the [Polyglot] Trait in my arsenal, it seemed downright plausible. Translations¡ªespecially reverse translations¡ªwere often messy and inaccurate, but [Polyglot] didn¡¯t just give me rudimentary knowledge, but gave me a perfect understanding of both languages involved. Even if the reverse translation itself wasn¡¯t entirely correct, I should, in theory, be able to identify where it went wrong and piece together the underlying meaning.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. With that plan in mind, I mentally rolled up my sleeves and got to work, trying to chart ¡°Misha¡± back into the Gryplik language. What I didn¡¯t anticipate, though, was just how challenging it would really be. Despite [Polyglot] providing me with complete fluency in both Standard and Gryplik, I quickly realized there was a massive difference between understanding and using a language versus conducting a full linguistic autopsy on it. Reverse engineering a translation was a completely different skillset¡ªone I¡¯d never even attempted to train before. Still, it wasn¡¯t impossible. I could tell right away that my basic idea was sound, as I didn¡¯t stumble upon any obvious question marks. I had all the pieces of the puzzle; it was just a matter of trial and error to figure out how they fit together. It reminded me of converting a program from one coding language to another¡ªknowing the syntax and logic of both was only the first step. Actually making it functional and coherent in both systems required patience, effort, and a lot of debugging. I worked through it slowly, letting my thoughts flow and focusing on the details without getting overly frustrated¡ªmy Ego definitely pulling its weight once again. Meanwhile, [Polyglot] smoothed out most of the rough edges, but the deeper I delved, the more I realized just how much nuance must go into Gryplik naming conventions. Finally, after several minutes of deep thought and trial-and-error, I landed on an answer. It didn¡¯t feel flawless, but it was solid enough that I decided to stick with it for now. ¡®Misha, translated back into Gryplik, would mean something like ¡°The one who left and paves the path¡±¡­?¡¯ I thought, the words rolling awkwardly through my mind. ¡®It sounds kind of strange, but I guess that¡¯s what happens when you try to translate meaning directly into Standard. Some nuance is always going to get lost in the process...¡¯ What really caught my attention, though, was the tone. While the translation into Standard came across as neutral, maybe even positive, in Gryplik the phrase carried a distinctly negative weight. The connotation wasn¡¯t celebratory or proud¡ªit was downright derogatory. ¡®Wait¡­ Misha¡¯s name isn¡¯t a title of honor. It¡¯s a slight,¡¯ I realized, a knot forming in my stomach. ¡®It¡¯s more like an insult than anything else.¡¯ I stared at Misha as the pieces started clicking together. ¡®Misha isn¡¯t just quirky or eccentric¡ªMisha is considered an outcast.¡¯ The realization sent a ripple of unease through me. Gryplik society, as far as I understood it, placed a lot of importance on collective harmony and unity. For Misha to carry a name like that meant something had happened¡ªsomething big enough to mark her as not just somebody as part of a group that split, but ¡°the one who left.¡± I glanced at the Gryplik again, watching as Misha buzzed around Jade with her boundless energy, as if nothing in the world could touch her. She didn¡¯t seem remotely bothered by her name or what it implied, but the weight of the discovery sat heavy in my chest. ¡®What happened to Misha to make her leave¡­?¡¯ The question twisted in my mind, and almost immediately, my thoughts spiraled to something worse¡ªour earlier interaction. Misha had practically cannon-balled me the moment I walked through the door, desperate for attention. She¡¯d been lonely, and not just in the casual way someone might miss company, but in a deeper, more fundamental sense. She hadn¡¯t just been craving social interaction; she¡¯d been missing her kind. The pieces started to fall into place, and as if to confirm my suspicions, [Cultural Savant] pinged again, offering up more context¡ªprobably the same intel it had been trying to give me the moment Misha cannon-balled into me earlier. ¡°Gryplik rely on a social structure of communal closeness. Gryplik that are cut off from the collective¡ªwhether by choice, punishment, or accident¡ªoften experience extreme loneliness. This can lead to mood instability and, over extended periods of time, adverse health conditions that may worsen over time.¡± The words hit harder than I expected. Misha wasn¡¯t just lonely; she was isolated, cut off from the natural social web that Gryplik relied on to thrive. It explained her clinginess and the overly enthusiastic energy that seemed almost desperate now that I thought about it more. ¡®So when she said she was lonely, it wasn¡¯t just about the annoying customers who didn¡¯t understand Gryplik customs¡ªit was about being alienated from other Gryplik entirely, wasn¡¯t it¡­?¡¯ I felt a wave of sympathy crash over me. Misha¡¯s cheerful, chaotic demeanor wasn¡¯t just a personality quirk¡ªit was a shield, a way to cope with something a lot harder to endure. It didn¡¯t take much for me to recognize it in hindsight because I''d done the very same thing more times than I could possibly count. Putting on a strong face, pretending everything was fine, smiling when it was the last thing I had wanted to do¡ªall of that had been far, far easier than admitting to myself, let alone anyone else, that things hadn¡¯t been okay. And Misha, despite the differences in culture, biology, and upbringing, was doing the exact same thing in her own way right now. I glanced at her again as she darted around Jade, moving with never ending energy, her words tumbling out with almost manic energy. It was admirable, really¡ªcarrying on like that despite the hurt that had to be lurking just beneath the surface. But the admiration came with a heavier thought, one that settled uncomfortably in the back of my mind: How long can someone like Misha keep going without the closeness that Gryplik need? It wasn¡¯t just a question¡ªit was a genuine concern. The kind that gnawed at the back of my mind even as I watched Misha throw herself into her work with unrelenting energy. The cracks were there; subtle, sure, but unmistakable. Even if she managed to hide them most of the time, I couldn¡¯t stop wondering: What would it take to widen those cracks further¡­ or maybe, just maybe, close them for good? ¡®Come on, [Cultural Savant], give me something to work with here,¡¯ I silently pleaded, trying to prod the System into giving me more insight. I focused on the fragments of Gryplik knowledge it had already shared, cycling through the information in my mind. There had to be something useful, right? It wasn¡¯t like a lonely, emotionally depleted store keeper was going to do wonders for [Negotiation]¡¯s whole stick. But no matter how much I poked and prodded, the Perk stayed silent. No helpful prompts, no sudden pings. Just radio silence. Frustration crept in, and I resorted to my usual fallback: Throwing everything I had at the problem. Focus, trial-and-error, wild guesses¡ªanything that might jog the System into action. And finally, after a serious few minutes of utter frustration that almost made me kick the nearest pile of Misha¡¯s goods, I hit on something, a piece of the puzzle I¡¯d overlooked before. ¡°Gryplik communal closeness refers not just to the physical and emotional proximity to others, but also to the interaction within the Gryplik language itself. The language incorporates subliminal messaging and emotional undertones that create a physical sensation of belonging in the speakers and listeners alike.¡± I blinked, rereading the prompt in my mind. ¡®So it¡¯s not just about having someone nearby or even getting along with them¡ªit¡¯s baked into the way Gryplik talk to each other. Their language itself carries a lot the¡­ emotional undertones? Subliminal signals? That is needed to create the communal closeness¡­?¡¯ That, in a weird way, explained so much¡ªwhy Misha felt so alienated despite interacting with so many people on a daily basis. Even if Misha was physically close to others, the deeper sense of connection her kind needed simply wasn¡¯t there. Because nobody spoke Gryplik here. It wasn¡¯t even about Gryplik customs, as I¡¯d originally assumed¡ªit was the very act of speaking and hearing Gryplik itself that Misha was missing. The language wasn¡¯t just words strung together; it carried an entire extra layer of connection that Standard didn¡¯t even begin to touch. Once I focused on Gryplik as a language in my mind, it was impossible not to notice the difference. I was fluent in it thanks to [Polyglot], but I¡¯d never stopped to actually really think about it in-depth before. There was this¡­ other dimension to it, something embedded in the structure itself, like an undercurrent of emotion and intention that Standard completely lacked. It reminded me of my recent realization about Cyber and its hidden manifestation layers¡ªlike there was something invisible yet fundamental woven into its core. Except for Misha, the stakes were so much higher. To her, all of us humans must seem emotionally tone-deaf, like our language was stripped of any real meaning. No subliminal undertones, no resonance¡ªjust cold, empty words. She¡¯d been stuck speaking Standard this whole time, unable to rely on the emotional and subliminal connections that her language naturally provided. But even as I thought that, a new realization hit me with a torrent of dread: ¡®No¡­ that¡¯s not entirely right, is it?¡¯ Misha had been trying to connect, hadn¡¯t she? From the very first moment I met her, she¡¯d reached for the most emotional threads Standard had to offer, as if she were searching for a lifeline. The memory now clicked into place painfully: The very first thing Misha had called me, after I had shown even a basic understanding of Gryplik customs, was ¡°friend Ela.¡± In human language, there were few words as emotionally charged as ¡°friend,¡± no matter how one tried to look at it. It carried a kind of weight, an intent, and an emotional vulnerability that went far beyond its apparent simplicity. And of all the words Misha could¡¯ve chosen, of every conceivable word in the Standard language, she¡¯d picked the one with the deepest emotional resonance she could find to try and reach out. But I hadn¡¯t seen it. I¡¯d brushed it off as a quirky, endearing tick from the strange, chaotic Gryplik, rather than recognizing it for what it truly was¡ªa cry for help. She had seen a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel when I¡¯d engaged with her in Gryplik custom. It had been something so small on my part, just a basic acknowledgment of her culture, but to her, it must have been huge. Without her ever having to explain it beforehand, I had simply shown that I knew about it; she had realized I saw her culture, her language, her identity. And she had tried to reach out with everything she had, hoping that I would understand. But I hadn¡¯t listened. Not really. I glanced at her again, darting around Jade with relentless energy, moving so quickly and with so much purpose that it was easy to forget what might be brewing underneath. That sharp pang of sympathy hit me again, far harder this time. ¡®Misha¡¯s been screaming into the void, and we¡¯ve all been too deaf to hear her¡ªI have been to deaf to hear it.¡¯ The thought knocked the wind out of me and if it wasn¡¯t for my Ego working overtime, I would have started crying right then and there; I could already feel the tightness in my chest, despite my Ego¡¯s best efforts to keep me calm. But for the first time, I truly felt the full weight of what it must¡¯ve been like for her¡ªtrapped in a sea of Standard, a language that couldn¡¯t begin to replicate the richness of her own. She hadn¡¯t just been speaking it; she¡¯d been fighting against it, desperately trying to bridge a gap that couldn¡¯t be crossed with words alone. And Misha had kept doing it¡ªover and over again¡ªbecause it was all she had. Stranded in a place that couldn¡¯t possibly feel like home, surrounded by people who didn¡¯t know her, couldn¡¯t truly understand her, and probably never would. The thought hit hard enough to sting. Biting back a sudden surge of emotion, I decided, ¡®This isn¡¯t gonna fucking stand any longer.¡¯ Without giving myself time to overthink it, I shifted into action. Briskly, I crossed the few metres that separated me from the other two, catching the surprised raise of Jade¡¯s eyebrows in my peripheral vision. She clearly had no clue what I was about to do, and, honestly, neither did I entirely. I stopped right behind Misha, who was mid-dart, her long arms juggling pieces of clothing and armor with her usual chaotic energy. Before she could even register my presence, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling the huge, lanky Gryplik into a tight hug. ¡°Misha¡¯s busy!¡± she protested at first, her voice squeaking in surprise as I easily lifted her off the ground, halting her endless motion. ¡°Yeah, well, Misha can take a break for a minute,¡± I said, my tone light but firm, holding her steady. For a second, she stiffened in my grasp, her elongated frame almost too awkward to hold properly. Then, slowly, her body relaxed, and I felt her seven-digited hands lightly clutch at my arms in a way that made my chest ache. ¡°Misha didn¡¯t think hugs were allowed¡­?¡± She said quietly, her voice suddenly small and unsure. I rested my chin lightly against her shoulder, my grip unwavering. ¡°Hugs are always allowed, Misha,¡± I replied softly. Even quieter, trying to make sure that only Misha could hear me, I added, ¡°Especially for friends.¡± I poured as much emotion as Standard could possibly hold into that last word, pushing my full Ego behind it for good measure. If there was any way to bridge the language barrier, even a little and even if I had to rely on the System to make it work, I was determined to find it. I needed more time to figure out what kind of fallout might come from suddenly revealing that I could speak perfect Gryplik¡ªeven though every instinct in me was screaming to just tell Misha right now. So if I could tide the situation over in another way, it was the preferable route. In the end, I already knew that if push came to shove, I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to blow my cover if it meant helping Misha in the long run¡­ Chapter 101 - Lengthy Browsing I felt Misha tense up in my arms for a moment, and for a split second, I worried I might¡¯ve completely misread the situation. But then, slowly, she began to relax, leaning back into me with a kind of hesitant weight, like she wasn¡¯t entirely sure if this was real. ¡°Friends¡­¡± Misha muttered, so softly I barely caught it. Despite the whisper, the word carried a heavy emotional weight that hit me square in the chest. Then, I felt her start to shiver. A deep, resonant trill¡ªalmost like a cooing noise¡ªescaped her as she leaned harder into my embrace, covering her face with her seven-digited hands. Even without [Cultural Savant], it was painfully clear what was happening. Misha was crying. What I did need [Cultural Savant] for, however, was the helpful and very on-topic information that Gryplik tears were highly acidic¡ªenough to eat through flesh like hydrofluoric acid. That particular tidbit snapped me back into practicality real fast. Shifting my arms slightly, I adjusted my hold to make sure I stayed well out of the splash zone of any potential tears. With the Rest Function currently on hold until I finished the quick-hack for the Operator meeting, the last thing I needed was to deal with semi-permanent acid scars. Instead, I let the arm nearest her face drop to her back, gently stroking the surprisingly thick, rope-like strands of her hair in slow, soothing motions. She continued to tremble, her cooing sounds growing softer as I held her. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jade¡¯s expression, and it nearly sent me into a fit of laughter. Her face was a perfect blend of confusion, exasperation, and mild horror. Her posture and face practically screamed ¡°What in the actual fuck is happening here?!¡± ¡®Oh shit,¡¯ I thought, barely suppressing a chuckle. ¡®I completely forgot Jade was still here for a moment there.¡¯ From her perspective, this whole situation must¡¯ve been utterly absurd. I¡¯d dragged her into the shop of an eccentric, alien-like store owner, left her to deal with Misha¡¯s antics, and then swooped in out of nowhere to hug said ¡°alien¡± while babbling about ¡°friends.¡± And to top it all off, I somehow managed to make the already bizarre Gryplik break down in tears. Yeah, her confusion was understandable. Thoroughly deserved, even, to be entirely honest. Our eyes met, and Jade¡¯s expression screamed for an explanation¡ª¡±What the actual fuck just happened?¡± Without missing a beat, I opened a message to send her directly.
[Misha needs some Ela-time. It¡¯s a Gryplik thing, it¡¯s important. We¡¯ll get you your gear in a few minutes, just let her rest for a moment.]
Her eyes flickered blue as she read the message, her brows furrowing slightly in response. Moments later, a reply popped up.
[Okay¡­ I guess I¡¯ll just stand here awkwardly, then, until you guys are done with¡­ whatever it is that you¡¯re actually doing.]
I had to fight hard¡ªvery hard¡ªnot to burst out laughing at the way Jade worded her response. My Ego came through for me yet again, keeping my face neutral so I wouldn¡¯t disturb Misha¡¯s moment with poorly timed laughter. Instead, I focused on gently stroking Misha¡¯s thick, rope-like hair, occasionally kneading the base of her scalp as her soft, resonant trilling continued. The vibrations felt almost rhythmic, like a heartbeat made audible. After a few minutes, the trembling in her frame began to subside, and the cooing faded into silence. I knew that this had to have been an intensely vulnerable moment for Misha. Showing open emotion like that in front of what amounted to a random customer in Jade couldn¡¯t have been easy. But I hadn¡¯t exactly been flush with options. The luxury of time to provide her with the privacy she deserved was something I didn¡¯t have, not with the way my life had been pulling me in a dozen different directions lately, each one as demanding and ¡°urgent¡± as the next. Honestly, a part of me was hoping that the Operator meeting would just come and go so I could finally focus on at least some of the things piling up on my plate. As much as I hated it, I¡¯d fallen into a pattern of triaging every problem, figuring out what I could handle immediately and what had to wait. But Misha? I couldn¡¯t just put her ¡°on the list.¡± She didn¡¯t deserve to be another line item in the endless backlog threatening to pull me apart at the seams. Not when I already knew what was wrong and had a way to help. This way, at least, I¡¯d done something for her. I¡¯d made sure she wasn¡¯t going to quietly suffer in the background while I tried to claw my way through the chaos of figuring out this new life. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and it wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was the best I could do right now. And for now, I hoped that it would be enough. ¡°Ela can unhand Misha now¡­¡± I heard Misha whisper up toward me, her voice soft and hesitant. By this point, she¡¯d fully leaned into the hug, her head practically pressing against my chest. Carefully, I loosened my hold, making sure to keep a steady hand on her arm as she straightened herself. Once upright, Misha began wiping away the remnants of her ruby-red tears¡ªviscous and sparkling like some kind of molten gemstone paired with blood¡ªusing the sleeve of her clothes. Much to my surprise, the fabric didn¡¯t dissolve or react in any way. Misha cleared her throat a couple of times, the sound more akin to a bird attempting to gargle gravel than anything human. Then, with a long, fluid motion, she stretched to her full, towering height of over two meters. For a moment, she looked down at Jade with an expression that carried an odd mix of embarrassment and determination. ¡°Misha apologises for this display,¡± she said, addressing Jade directly. ¡°It is most unfortunate that Jade had to witness this. Misha will make sure to provide the best service available in all of Neo Avalis to compensate for this unsightly moment.¡± Before either of us could respond, Misha executed a perfect ninety-degree bow, her movements sharp and precise. Then, just as abruptly, she darted away, vanishing behind a mountain of merchandise with the kind of speed that always caught me off guard. Jade didn¡¯t even have a chance to get a word out before Misha disappeared. Left standing there, she slowly turned to me, her face a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and just a touch of exasperation¡ªthe look she was starting to wear more and more around me. I met her gaze and shrugged, struggling to keep a straight face. ¡®Classic Misha.¡¯
The next half hour played out much like the first¡ªonly this time, Misha was even more eager and determined to find the absolute perfect items for Jade. She zipped from pile to pile, pulling gear with an almost manic energy, each new piece tossed at Jade with a flourish and a sales pitch consisting of detailed information on each item. At some point, I started feeling bad for Jade. The poor girl barely had time to catch her breath or consider her options before Misha was thrusting yet another jacket, vest, or gadget into her hands. Misha was laser-focused on making up for what she¡¯d called her earlier ¡°shame,¡± and her relentless enthusiasm didn¡¯t leave much room for deliberation. ¡®I always get choice paralysis in situations like this¡­¡¯ I thought, idly watching the two of them as I wandered over to one of the less chaotic corners of the shop. ¡®I wonder if Jade¡¯s dealing with that right now¡­?¡¯ To keep myself occupied¡ªand to give Jade a little breathing room¡ªI had started browsing through some of Misha¡¯s scattered merchandise. After all, I wasn¡¯t just here for Jade; I had a few things I wanted to pick up as well. That said, I didn¡¯t feel like interrupting the whirlwind of activity between Misha and Jade just to ask for some mundane items. The only thing I¡¯d really need Misha¡¯s uncanny talent for finding the perfect gear was a reliable backpack. Old Sera had owned some very basic ones¡ªcheap, functional, and fine for casual use¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t trust those to hold up in the kind of work I was getting into. The last thing I needed was a strap snapping or a seam giving out at the worst possible moment. I needed something sturdier, something as durable¡ªif not more so¡ªthan my actual clothes. My current outfit, of course, had plenty of pockets¡ªperfect to my requested specifications when I¡¯d requested something like this from Misha, of course¡ªbut pockets only ever went so far. There were just some things that weren¡¯t practical to carry directly on your person every single time, but were still too valuable in the rare circumstances that they were needed to leave behind entirely. And then there were the larger items¡ªthings that wouldn¡¯t fit in even the deepest pockets. One of those, for example, was something I¡¯d been wanting for a while: A Drone. Drones were just about everywhere in Neo Avalis¡ªway more ubiquitous than they¡¯d ever been in my previous life. They were used for just about everything: Transporting goods, surveillance, security, and even straight-up combat, in rare scenarios. For me, I was eyeing a basic surveillance drone¡ªsomething to give me an extra set of eyes I could toss around a corner or send scouting ahead without risking my own face. Simple, effective, and invaluable for the kind of work I was aiming to do. But picking one up and actually deploying it wasn¡¯t as straightforward as it sounded. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. There were a lot of issues I still needed to solve, the biggest of which was the DIS: the Drone Identification Signature. Since drones were so common in the Megacity, they¡¯d naturally become a prime target for all kinds of criminal activity¡ªsmashing them, stealing them, or even reprogramming them entirely to serve local gangs or shady corporations. Then there were the ¡°homemade¡± drones, cobbled together to blend in with legitimate units while doing dirty work like smuggling Glitter or delivering other illicit goods. That¡¯s where the DIS came in. The system had been specifically designed to combat exactly this kind of misuse, and it was not something to take lightly. In Neon Dragons, it had been a consistent thorn in the side of the player character throughout the entire main story, and I could already tell it was going to be a headache for me now. Here¡¯s how it worked, as far as I understood it from my wiki-dives: Every single drone in Neo Avalis came equipped with a unique signature¡ªa DIS¡ªthat was virtually impossible to spoof or replicate. The system¡¯s source code was locked down tight, protected by algorithms and encryption routines designed by none other than one of Kill Joy¡¯s star pupils. So unless Kill Joy himself or somebody equivalent to him decided to take a crack at it, it was unlikely to budge any time soon. And this signature wasn¡¯t just a random, boring-old identification number, either. It was constantly monitored and cross-checked against citywide databases through Neo Avalis¡¯s expansive Cyberspace network. And because every single drone served as both an eye and an ear for the DIS system, there were effectively tens, maybe even hundreds of millions of ¡°watchdogs¡± roaming the city at any given moment. If a drone didn¡¯t have a valid DIS, it was like flying a giant neon ¡°WANTED¡± sign over your head¡ªand it didn¡¯t stop there. The system wouldn¡¯t just flag the drone either; it would actively work to zero in on the operator, too, leveraging the vast network of eyes and ears from every drone in the area. While the system wouldn¡¯t hijack drones outright or redirect them from their assigned tasks, it didn¡¯t need to. With access to millions upon millions of mobile cameras and microphones, it could build a profile of the rogue operator in record time regardless. That alone was enough to land someone in a world of trouble. And, as if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, the DIS system had another card to play. It wasn¡¯t just a static set of protocols¡ªit was constantly evolving. While not technically classified as an AI due to the VeilGuard¡¯s strict anti-AI regulations, the system skirted that line so closely it might as well have been alive. The algorithms were adaptive, analyzing and learning from every attempt to bypass the system. Any exploit or workaround that worked once would be rendered useless almost immediately. Long-term solutions simply didn¡¯t exist in a system that was always a step ahead. The bottom line? There were ways to get around the DIS, but they all came with a big caveat: It would only work for a short time. Still, even with the limitations, a drone would be a game-changer for my Operator work. A few minutes of use here and there could mean the difference between success and failure¡ªor even life and death. And considering that it was specifically about my life and death; that was very much worth it in my eyes. While browsing Misha¡¯s wares, I made sure to spam my [Appraisal] Ability on just about everything I could get my hands on. I hadn¡¯t had many chances to level up [Appraise] so far, and Misha¡¯s Emporium felt like a goldmine for experience grinding. Nearly every item here gave me a solid experience drop with a single use of [Appraisal]¡ªthat is, when the Ability actually worked. As it turned out, [Appraisal] wasn¡¯t nearly as omniscient as I¡¯d initially hoped. More often than not, I was greeted by the dull, irritating error tone in my mind, signaling that the Ability had no idea what it was looking at. ¡®Must be Knowledge-related,¡¯ I thought, filing that away for later. ¡®Higher Levels in [Appraise] should unlock more, higher-Tier items...¡¯ I put down a sleek, high-tech case I¡¯d been examining¡ªa container holding a gun of unknown design that [Appraisal] flat-out refused to recognize. It was a bit disappointing, but I pressed on. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t take long for the System Notification I¡¯d been waiting for to finally pop up:
[System]: 400xp gained for [Appraise] Skill. [System]: 100xp gained for Tech Attribute. [System]: [Appraise] Skill has reached Level 2. Knowledge and Muscle Memory download available.
Leaning against a nearby mountain of plush-looking clothes, I glanced over to make sure Misha and Jade were still preoccupied with their ongoing whirlwind of chaotic shopping. Once I was sure they weren¡¯t paying me any attention, I activated the download. As always, my mind was immediately flooded with information. My vision blurred, my thoughts spiraled, and my brain scrambled to process the torrent of data crashing into it. But surprisingly, the Level 2 download wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d expected. There were no fancy techniques or new skills to try out. Instead, it was almost entirely raw knowledge: Information about item categories, pricing, and how to differentiate between genuine and fake versions of gear. That was pretty much it. Muscle Memory? Practically non-existent this time around. [Appraise] seemed less like a hands-on Skill and more like one of those Wiki-Skills that dumped knowledge into your brain instead of teaching actionable techniques. The good news? The download ended quicker than most, and for once, there wasn¡¯t much residual vertigo¡ªa welcome break from the usual head-spinning chaos I¡¯d grown used to. The bad news? The knowledge didn¡¯t feel like something I could actively recall whatsoever. It was more like a silent addition to my brain¡¯s database, tucked away for [Appraisal] to draw on when needed, rather than something I could consciously access. Not flashy, but functional. And honestly? Right now, I was more than happy with functional. After all the flashy Skill downloads I¡¯d gotten recently¡ªeach one more overwhelming than the last¡ªit was a nice change of pace to have something straightforward. No dramatic new techniques to figure out, no sudden revelations to integrate into my routine. Just pure, simple utility. With a bit of renewed enthusiasm, I went back to [Appraising] random items while waiting for Jade or Misha to call me over and let me know they were done. Another half-hour later, I finally got the message I¡¯d been expecting.
[We¡¯re done here, where are you?]
I sent back a quick reply that I was on my way and began weaving my way through the labyrinth of merchandise, muscling past mountains of gear and oddities. Misha¡¯s Emporium truly was a marvel¡ªa treasure trove stocked with more items than I could begin to count. ¡®Where does Misha even get all this stuff?¡¯ I wondered as I navigated the chaos. ¡®There¡¯s no way Misha actually makes all of this, right¡­?¡¯ When I finally spotted Jade and Misha, I stopped a few meters short, giving Jade a once-over. She was now decked out in an outfit that bore a striking resemblance to my own Operator gear, complete with the same sleek, practical design¡ªand myriads of pockets. Misha¡¯s handiwork was obvious in the quality. The material looked durable yet flexible, and the seams were practically invisible. I couldn¡¯t help but want to use [Appraisal] on it, just to see how it stacked up to my own. But before I could indulge the thought, I turned to Misha, shifting my focus to the next items on my mental checklist. ¡°Ela requires a backpack,¡± I began. ¡°A sturdy one, capable of surviving rough use and holding delicate items while keeping them relatively safe. Ela also requires a drone¡ªpreferably a close-range surveillance type with a DIS spoofer, maybe good for¡­ three minutes or so? Does Misha have any of those available?¡± Misha tilted her head slightly, her crystal-like eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and what could only be described as mischief. ¡°Ela truly underestimates Misha, huh¡­?¡± Misha muttered, shaking her head as though disappointed in me. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she added, ¡°Misha will show Ela the best options available in all of Neo Avalis! Ela just watch!¡± And with that, she was off, darting toward the far end of the store with the kind of speed and precision that only Misha could manage, leaving me and Jade standing there like a pair of abandoned tourists. Jade glanced at me, raising an eyebrow as if to say, ¡°Here we go again.¡± I just shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. ¡®Classic Misha.¡¯ With Misha darting off, I took the chance to get a closer look at Jade and her new gear. As I inspected her outfit, I asked absentmindedly, ¡°You already pay for it? Hope it didn¡¯t drain the bank.¡± Jade¡¯s grin was self-satisfied as she replied, ¡°Uh-huh. Surprisingly cheap, considering the quality. Pseudo-Tier 1 isn¡¯t exactly easy to get for someone like me¡­¡± She hesitated, her expression flickering with uncertainty, like she was debating whether to add something. Finally, she continued, ¡°And, uh¡­ thanks. For bringing me here. Misha¡¯s¡­ amazing. Odd, sure, but her equipment? Unbelievable. And the prices? Downright insane for how good it all is.¡± She trailed off again, her body language shifting, shoulders stiffening slightly as if she were holding something back. Whatever it was, she seemed conflicted about saying it aloud. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what was bothering her, but I had a hunch. ¡°It¡¯s fine to tell Vega and your sisters about her, just so you know,¡± I said, keeping my tone as casual and offhanded as I could manage. While I spoke, I let my hands trail down the seams of her outfit, using [Appraisal] to inspect the quality. The moment my fingers brushed the fabric, Jade froze, her body going rigid like I¡¯d pressed a panic button. ¡°Ah¡ªsorry!¡± I said quickly, pulling my hands back and mentally kicking myself for the slip-up. Whoops. Definitely a little too eager there¡­ ¡°I¡­ thank you. I will consider it,¡± Jade replied, her tone surprisingly diplomatic. It caught me a bit off guard¡ªhadn¡¯t she come here hoping to scope out a potential business opportunity for the Clawed Beasts? Before I could say anything, she shifted the conversation, seemingly trying to fill the awkward silence that had followed it. ¡°You got any specific plans for that drone, then?¡± she asked, her tone casual but curious. Her question gave me a moment to glance at the [Appraisal] screen I¡¯d pulled up on her outfit. It confirmed what I¡¯d already suspected: Her gear was slightly less advanced than mine¡ªnot that I was quietly gloating about it or anything; definitely not. Functionally, though, it offered a similar level of protection and coverage. The biggest differences were in the details. My outfit had a multi-purpose scarf that doubled as a hood, while hers skipped that in favor of a simpler design. My bomber jacket was thicker and had a bit of a bigger profile, while hers leaned more into the aesthetic of a classic jean jacket¡ªthough both stuck to the same dark gray, green, and black color palette that I had originally chosen for my own. Material-wise, they were identical, meaning her upper-body equipment was also classified as Pseudo-Tier 1. It was solid gear, no doubt, and a downright incomprehensible upgrade for her. She had gone from being basically one stab away from death, to being able to take an absolute beating¡ªas long as the attacks didn¡¯t manage to sneak past her jacket, that was. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but think about my own upgrades. My pants were still stuck at Tier 0, and while it annoyed me to no end, I couldn¡¯t justify prioritizing them right now. A reliable backpack and a drone were higher on the list, especially given the nature of my upcoming jobs. Both the Operator business and Mr. Stirling¡¯s final requests were bound to take me to places that I had no familiarity with, whatsoever. And information was key, so the drone simply had to take priority here. Plus, there were still a handful of more mundane items I wanted to pick up before leaving the floor: a high-power flashlight, rope, duct tape, and a few other essentials. While I had a decent chunk of Credits to my name right now, I knew the drone would likely take a big bite out of that stash¡ªeven with Misha¡¯s ridiculously good pricing. ¡°Got a few ideas,¡± I finally answered Jade, offering a small grin. ¡°Mainly for recon¡ªhaving a second set of eyes I can send ahead, especially in tight spaces, would make things a lot safer. And honestly, anything that keeps me out of direct fire is worth its weight in Creds.¡± Jade nodded after a moment, her curiosity seemingly satisfied for now. Just in time, Misha came barreling around the corner of a nearby counter at breakneck speed. She stopped mere centimeters away from me, her towering frame somehow balancing a ridiculous number of backpacks strapped across her body. ¡°Misha has returned triumphantly!¡± she declared with a toothy, smug grin, her crystal-like eyes sparkling as though she¡¯d just conquered some grand challenge. Without hesitation, she unstrapped one of the backpacks and hoisted it into my arms. ¡°Ela should try this one!¡± she said, gesturing dramatically to the bag now in my hands. ¡°It is not as lightweight as some other options, but it has extra reinforced layers on the exterior. That makes it more resistant to abrasions and damage. Misha assures Ela that it is made from the same fabric as Jade and Ela¡¯s outfits, so it can even withstand small-caliber gunfire and knives!¡± I turned the bag over in my hands, inspecting the material. Sure enough, it had the same sleek, slightly textured feel as my Operator gear, and I could immediately tell it was built to take a beating. Misha¡¯s enthusiasm for her wares was as infectious as ever, and I found myself already nodding along. Of course, this was just the first of many options, judging by the mountain of other bags still strapped to her. It was going to be a long pitch¡­ Chapter 102 - Extra Equipment ¡°Misha guarantees this one will be perfect for Ela!¡± Misha exclaimed with unshakable confidence, hoisting the last of the nearly half-dozen backpacks into my arms. Without missing a beat, Misha launched into an enthusiastic explanation of its features. ¡°Heaviest of the bunch, but very, very strong!¡± Misha said, gesturing emphatically at the bag. ¡°It comes with a durasteel insert in the front¡ªperfect for keeping pesky bullets and knives away from Ela¡¯s back when worn! And, if necessary, it can even double as a portable shield. Very versatile!¡± That last part immediately got my attention. I¡¯d been focused on finding a backpack to keep my gear safe, but I hadn¡¯t even considered the idea that the right one might serve as impromptu cover. Sure, the kinetic energy from a bullet or something similar would probably make it impossible to hold the bag steady mid-air, but if I pressed it against my body? It¡¯d effectively act like an additional bulletproof vest. ¡®The same principle could apply to all the backpacks, technically, but the durasteel insert? That¡¯s a solid bonus, no doubt¡­¡¯ I hefted the bag in my arms, feeling its substantial weight. It was definitely far heavier than the others, as Misha had mentioned, and it didn¡¯t have as much storage capacity. But in terms of durability? It seemed like the clear winner at first glance. Luckily, I didn¡¯t have to rely solely on a sales pitch or my initial impressions to make a decision. ¡®[Appraisal],¡¯ I thought, activating the Ability with, now, practiced ease.
[== Misha¡¯s DuraPack v3 - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 185-220{c}] [Size: 45cm x 30cm x 25cm] [Storage: 1x Major, 2x Medium, 4x Minor, 2x Auxiliary] [Weight: 3.6kg] [Manufacturer: Misha¡¯s Emporium.] [Materials: Durasteel, Aramid/Synthweave Composite] [== Misha¡¯s DuraPack v3 - Combat Information ==] [Durability: 666/500] [Pierce Protection: 41.88] [Pierce Protection (Durasteel Plate): 203.64] [Slash Protection: 104.32] [Slash Protection (Durasteel Plate): 454.19] [Blunt Protection: 9.43] [Blunt Protection (Durasteel Plate): 89.67] [== Misha¡¯s DuraPack v3 - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Gryplik Maintenance - Increases Durability characteristic by 33%. This can cause Durability to exceed the maximum.] [Passive: Gryplik Expert Crafting (Equipment) - Reduces the Weight characteristic by 15%. Increases all Protection characteristics by 15%. Increases Price characteristic by 20%.]
¡®Misha really is such a treasure,¡¯ I thought, scrolling through the details of the Gryplik Expert Crafting Passive on the backpack. I simply couldn¡¯t help but marvel at how much value Misha¡¯s craftsmanship added to her wares. ¡®Buying stuff made by Misha specifically? Absolutely worth the extra cost for these insane stat boosts¡­¡¯ A flat 15% increase to Protection stats was absolutely wild¡ªcompletely unreal when you looked at it from a video game perspective. Just that one boost alone could almost push a Tier 1 item into Pseudo-Tier 2 territory. And the kicker? The price increase was only around 20%. For comparison, jumping from one full Tier to the next usually cost anywhere from 10 to 50 times the price. That made Misha¡¯s Passive¡ªa benefit she applied automatically to everything she crafted, if it worked the same way it had in the game¡ªpractically invaluable to anyone who knew about it. I couldn¡¯t help but grin as I looked over the backpack again. It wasn¡¯t just durable; it was over-performing; and by a lot. Misha had essentially cracked the code on how to make top-tier gear at an affordable price point, and I had a feeling very few people fully appreciated what they were getting when they shopped here. The only real sticking point for me? The price. This backpack was, somehow, as expensive as my entire Operator outfit combined with all the weapons I¡¯d managed to scrounge up since arriving in this world. All that for a backpack? Sure, it was arguably amazing, but still¡ªa tough sell. Even though I technically had the Credits on hand, I couldn¡¯t just throw them around willy-nilly. I needed to reserve at least 300{c} for the drone; without that, the backpack wouldn¡¯t even have a true purpose. The drone was non-negotiable¡ªit was the cornerstone of what I was planning to do next. Luckily, purchases around here weren¡¯t as simple as looking at the digital price tag in my head and handing over the cash. Nope, this was Neo Avalis, where everything was negotiable. Time to let [Negotiation] do its thing. ¡°It really does look amazing, Misha!¡± I chimed in, cutting into her ongoing, enthusiastic sales pitch. ¡°It¡¯s Ela¡¯s favorite of the bunch, for sure. Ela works out a lot, so the extra weight isn¡¯t a problem at all. What does Misha want for it?¡± My tone was light, friendly, and I even added a bit of flexing in the middle to show her that the weight really wasn¡¯t an issue at all, but I was being serious enough to signal that I wasn¡¯t here to blindly hand over a mountain of Credits and wanted to negotiate. I could almost feel the [Negotiation] Skill subtly working its magic in the background as Misha paused, tilting her head ever so slightly as she often did. The game was on. Misha¡¯s ruby-like eyes narrowed as she began pacing in front of me, her energy shifting into what could only be described as "serious merchant mode." Then, as I¡¯d halfway expected, she started muttering in Gryplik. ¡°{Hmm, Ela definitely deserves a good price, yes¡­? Definitely. But Misha needs to make money too... Misha is a successful merchant, after all. The greatest Gryplik merchant the world has ever seen! So Misha can¡¯t simply give the item away for cheap, no no.}¡± I watched as her gaze flicked toward me, scanning me like she was calculating how much I¡¯d realistically be willing to spend without walking away. Then, her eyes darted to Jade, who was sitting on a nearby pile of plush-looking clothes. The moment Jade realized Misha was looking at her, she practically jumped up in embarrassment, fumbling to stand. But Misha didn¡¯t seem to care about the improvised seating arrangement; she was too deep in thought to notice. Misha¡¯s pacing continued as her eyes returned to the floor, her muttering growing softer but no less intense. ¡°{Ela did bring a new customer. And potential future ones, too. Misha cannot forget about this. And Ela is a friend¡­ A friend that understands¡­ Misha thinks. Maybe. Misha wants to believe¡­}¡± Her eyes darted to mine again, and I had to muster every ounce of my Ego to stay calm, plastering the same friendly smile on my face that I always used. Inside, I was screaming, practically waging war with myself not to blow my cover. I could hear her every word. I understood it all. And the weight of what she was saying¡ªher doubts, her hopes¡ªmade me want to reach out and tell her that I got it, that I really did understand, and that I¡¯d be here for her. But I couldn¡¯t. My Ego strained harder than ever, keeping me in check as her ruby-like eyes¡ªsurprisingly expressive for something that didn¡¯t really seem designed to show emotion¡ªflickered with what looked like pleading before falling back to the floor. The moment her gaze dropped, I exhaled silently, using the brief pause to collect myself. ¡®Get it together, Sera!¡¯ I scolded myself internally. ¡®Yes, Misha is unbelievably cute in a Gryplik chaos-goblin way, but you can¡¯t risk both of your lives by revealing you understand Gryplik just because you got a little emotional! Who knows if there isn¡¯t some corpo hitsquad out there hunting for a translator or something?! Focus, girl! No blowing your cover until you know it won¡¯t be a problem!¡¯ With my internal pep talk done, I steadied myself, waiting for Misha to make her move and trying my best to act like I wasn¡¯t just battling an existential crisis in real time. Meanwhile, Misha continued pacing, her muttering growing slightly louder as if the intensity of her thought process demanded it. ¡°{Misha must think carefully. Ela is a friend, but Misha is a merchant too. The backpack is worth much, but overcharging a friend would be dishonorable. Hmm¡­ 200? No, no¡­ too much. 150? Too little, Misha would be losing profit! Hmm, yes¡­ perhaps¡­}¡± Her eyes flickered up to me again, and I maintained my smile, trying not to give away the fact that I could hear every word of her internal monologue. Misha stopped pacing abruptly, straightened her body up to her full, towering height, and finally declared, ¡°Misha will offer this magnificent backpack for 180 Credits!¡± The price caught me slightly off guard. It was already a steal, considering the quality and the added stat boosts from Misha¡¯s crafting Passive. But I wasn¡¯t about to pass up the opportunity to negotiate further. ¡°It¡¯s a fantastic offer, Misha,¡± I began, keeping my tone warm and appreciative. ¡°Ela truly appreciates the effort Misha has put into finding the perfect backpack. But 180 is still a bit steep, considering Ela also needs to pick up a drone and a few auxiliary items. How about 160 instead?¡± Misha¡¯s ruby-like eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips pulled into a small pout. ¡°Misha cannot go that low! 180 is already a fair price! The materials alone make it worth far more, but Misha is generous!¡± I nodded, as if agreeing. ¡°Ela understands that. But Ela must stretch her Credits carefully at the moment. If Misha can bring the price closer to 165, Ela will have enough for both the backpack and the drone, which Ela is still planning to purchase¡ªfrom Misha, of course.¡± At the mention of the drone, Misha paused, visibly reconsidering. The promise of an additional sale clearly tipped the scales in my favor. ¡°Hmm¡­ Okay! Misha will agree to 168 Credits. But no less! And Ela has to buy the drone right now!¡± Misha finally said, crossing her arms with a slight huff, ¡°and only because Misha knows Ela will return for more business in the future as well!¡± I grinned, offering my hand. ¡°Deal. Misha always knows how to make the best arrangements.¡± Misha clasped my hand firmly in both of hers, shaking it with the kind of enthusiasm only she could muster. ¡°Naturally, Misha does! Misha is the greatest merchant in all of Neo Avalis, after all! Misha guarantees it!¡± Without missing a beat, she continued, ¡°Now, let Misha find Ela a drone worthy of the remaining Credits in Ela¡¯s account! Surveillance type, fitting neatly into the backpack, yes?¡± I nodded, letting a small grin slip through as I watched the towering Gryplik spring into action, her energy seemingly limitless. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. In a flash, she was off, darting into the chaotic maze of her Emporium once more. Seconds later, the frenzy began. Equipment pieces, clothes, weapons, and secure containers started flying through the air as Misha feverishly rummaged through her stockpile. The sound of clattering items and Gryplik mutterings filled the space, a symphony of organized chaos as Misha hunted down the perfect drone. Jade, standing nearby, dodged a stray piece of armor and gave me a look that screamed, ¡®This really is normal here, huh?¡¯ I simply shrugged, amused. ¡°Welcome to shopping with Misha,¡± I said with a chuckle, turning my attention back to the flurry of activity ahead. If anyone could find the right drone in this mess, it was her¡­
About twenty minutes later, Misha and I were shaking hands once again, sealing the deal on my very first drone for a whopping 315 Credits¡ªthe most I had ever spent on anything, by far. Misha had brought out a small selection¡ªthree drones in total¡ªthat she believed fit my requirements and budget. True to form, her picks were spot-on. Each drone offered something slightly different, and the decision came down to weighing their unique trade-offs. The main differences were their weights, speeds, operating times¡ªspecifically the duration of their DIS spoofing¡ªand their potential for modularity. The latter was especially tempting, but it came with a significant drawback: Reduced operating time. The DIS spoofing on these low-Tier drones just wasn¡¯t robust enough to handle major hardware or software changes without compromising the whole system. In the end, I settled on the least modular of the three, as much as I hated the idea of having something that I couldn¡¯t really tinker much with. It allowed for only minor tweaks and adjustments, but it had the longest spoofing time and was well within my budget. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was the most practical for what I wanted the drone for in the first place: Surveillance. Low-Tier equipment always came with sacrifices, and I wasn¡¯t about to risk functionality for bells and whistles I didn¡¯t absolutely need. The [Appraisal] screen gave a comprehensive rundown of its capabilities¡ªmore than enough to assure me I¡¯d made the right call. As for how I¡¯d use it? That part was still a little up in the air. One thing was certain, though: Having a drone at my disposal, even a relatively basic one, was going to be a game-changer. Whether it was for Mr. Stirling¡¯s final Task or any future jobs that came my way from the Operator gigs, this little piece of tech would undoubtedly pull its weight.
[== ¡°Silver Eye¡± Surveillance Drone - Basic Information ==] [Rarity: Common] [Tier: 1] [Price: 330-375{c}] [Size: 30cm] [Propeller Diameter: 22cm] [Propeller Amount: 3] [Weight: 1.4kg] [Manufacturer: Vortex Dynamics] [Materials: Plasteel, Plastics, Resin] [== ¡°Silver Eye¡± Surveillance Drone - Operating Information ==] [Durability: 166/125] [Max Speed: 85km/h] [Operating Distance: 10km] [DIS Spoofing Time: 280s] [DIS Spoofing Flexibility: Fixed] [Surveillance Options: Visual Zoom (1x-24x), Directional Audio Capture, Audio Enhancement (1x-4x)] [== ¡°Silver Eye¡± Surveillance Drone - Misc Information ==] [Passive: Gryplik Maintenance - Increases Durability characteristic by 33%. This can cause Durability to exceed the maximum.]
¡°Misha has done an amazing job once again!¡± I said with a grin, setting up the Credit transfer through my cerebral interface. ¡°Ela is very happy with the items and the prices for them.¡± Misha nodded so vigorously it was a wonder her head didn¡¯t fly off, her wide, toothy grin practically lighting up the room. As she leaned down to carefully put the other drones back into their protective casings, she exclaimed, ¡°Misha is the greatest merchant in all of Neo Avalis, after all! It is only natural that Misha would provide the best services!¡± ¡°That, Misha absolutely is,¡± I replied with a laugh, mentally confirming to send off the Credits. Meanwhile, inside, I was shedding a metaphorical tear as my account balance took a nosedive. ¡®Goodbye, my hard-earned Credits¡­ It was nice knowing you, even if only for a brief, fleeting moment!¡¯ The transaction completed with a faint chime in my mind:
[You have transferred {c}483 to ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium¡± account with the note: ¡°Ela deeply appreciates Misha¡¯s exceptional customer service and high-quality goods. Ela eagerly looks forward to more future visits!¡±]
Just as I was mentally preparing to bask in the post-purchase glow¡ªand mourning my suddenly impoverished account¡ªJade caught my attention. ¡°Ela, are you done shopping with Misha for now?¡± she asked, her tone unusually straightforward. I blinked at her, caught off-guard. Jade wasn¡¯t typically this upfront with me, and her next words explained why. ¡°I was thinking¡­ Maybe it would be good to ask Misha for some samples. Something I can talk to Vega and my sisters about. Y¡¯know, give them a better idea of what Misha has to offer.¡± My eyebrows shot up before I could stop them. It was probably the first time Jade had ever been this honest with me, especially about her intentions to share Misha¡¯s existence with the Clawed Beasts. Hesitation and confusion bubbled up¡ªhadn¡¯t she been wary of me not too long ago? But overriding all of that was an odd sense of happiness; maybe I was finally making headways on getting through to her on a more personal level. I smiled and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m done, yeah. There¡¯s nothing else I need from Misha¡¯s Emporium for now. Go ahead and ask Misha; I will stay out of your way.¡± Jade nodded back and turned to Misha, who was now stacking the protective cases she¡¯d just filled onto a nearby counter. ¡°Misha? Jade has a request. Can Misha provide a list of what¡¯s available here? Jade wants to know what kind of items are in stock to let a few of Jade¡¯s colleagues know about them.¡± The request immediately piqued my interest. I¡¯d never thought to ask for an actual list before, simply figuring that Misha would tell me if she didn¡¯t have what I wanted, but now, in hindsight, it seemed like a really obvious thing to ask for when first entering as enigmatic a shop as Misha¡¯s was. As Jade spoke, I leaned back against a nearby rack and prepared to listen intently. Misha¡¯s ruby-like eyes glimmered, her body vibrating with energy as she began rattling off her inventory with the enthusiasm of someone who¡¯d been waiting for this moment. ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium offers the greatest variety of items in Neo Avalis!¡± she declared proudly. ¡°Misha has knives, blades, bludgeons¡ªyes, even vibro-weaponry for close-range combat, if that¡¯s what the customer requires! Firearms, of course¡ªpistols, rifles, shotguns; Misha has them all. Drones, high-tech gadgets, decks and crowns for Cyberspace navigation¡­ And let¡¯s not forget backpacks like the one Ela just purchased, along with a range of armor and clothing options, both lightweight and heavy-duty!¡± Jade¡¯s eyes widened slightly as the list went on, and I could feel my own curiosity growing with every word. Misha continued without pause, her enthusiasm only building as she described item after item, from the practical to the downright high-tech. ¡°Misha also stocks specialty items! Unique gadgets and one-of-a-kind equipment not found anywhere else¡ªsome Misha has modified personally, others Misha has made by hand! All guaranteed to be the best quality and the best price! And lastly, Misha even has some really nice cybernetics stored away for the high-end clientele. Every high-quality store needs to have a secret menu, after all!¡± I stood there, floored once again by the sheer breadth of her inventory. ¡®Where the hell does Misha even get all of this stuff¡­?¡¯ I wondered for what felt like the hundredth time. And more importantly, ¡®How does Misha manage to do this all by herself?¡¯ Jade seemed equally impressed, nodding as Misha finished the list with a flourish. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot. Jade didn¡¯t realize Misha¡¯s Emporium had so much to offer.¡± ¡°Misha is the greatest merchant in all of Neo Avalis!¡± Misha said proudly, puffing out her chest. ¡°Of course Misha has everything! If Jade needs more information or specifics, Misha can provide details for any item. Just ask!¡± I stayed quiet, merely observing the exchange. Jade nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed. ¡°Alright, then. What about the firearms? Does Misha stock ones that come with pre-existing licenses? Or would those need to be acquired separately?¡± Misha tilted her head, considering the question. ¡°Most firearms in Misha¡¯s Emporium require separate licensing. Misha can provide assistance with certain arrangements, of course, but official licenses depend on the buyer¡¯s standing. As for pre-war era guns¡­¡± Jade perked up at the mention. ¡°Pre-war?! Anything usable? Or just collectibles?¡± Misha¡¯s ruby-like eyes sparkled, and she leaned in slightly, as if sharing a grand secret. ¡°Pre-war guns are rare treasures! Misha has a few in stock. All functional, durable, and often unique in design, too! They carry history and craftsmanship unmatched by modern weapons. Some even include specialized ammo types, Misha will have Jade know.¡± The smug smile on Misha¡¯s face told me everything I needed to know about how much she enjoyed being able to show off her vast repertoire of goods like this. Jade¡¯s curiosity seemed to deepen. ¡°Specialized ammo? On Pre-war guns¡­? Like what?¡± ¡°Explosive tips, subsonic rounds, even tracer rounds for visibility in combat! Usually not available with pre-war era guns, but Misha managed to acquire a few of the rare ones that can!¡± Misha said, her enthusiasm building with every word. She moved toward the nearest pile of items, her long fingers deftly rummaging through its chaotic contents. ¡°Misha guarantees the highest quality for every piece in Misha¡¯s collection. If Jade wishes to see some examples¡ª¡± Misha¡¯s words cut off abruptly as Jade¡¯s posture abruptly stiffened, her expression shifting from curiosity to stark alarm in the blink of an eye. The change was so drastic it startled even Misha, who stopped digging through the pile to tilt her head in confusion. Jade¡¯s head snapped toward the Emporium¡¯s entrance like a deer catching wind of a predator. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, standing up straighter, feeling adrenaline start ramping through me. Something was very clearly wrong. Jade turned to me, her voice low but urgent. ¡°Ela, we need to leave. Now.¡± The sharpness in her tone, the barely contained panic, sent a jolt through me. I had never heard her this serious¡ªor this concerned¡ªbefore. Misha, still holding a secure lockbox she¡¯d just pulled from beneath a mountain of merchandise, paused. Her crystal-like eyes glinted as she regarded us both, her confusion clear. ¡°Is there an issue? Misha does not sense anything unusual¡­?¡± No longer paying any attention to Misha, Jade moved quickly to my side, her voice low but insistent. ¡°It¡¯s the Golden Phoenix¡¯s people. They¡¯re coming. We need to leave this place, right fucking now. I don¡¯t know if we can get out of dodge before they spot us, but I really don¡¯t want another repeat of last time. Let¡¯s go!¡± My mind raced, thoughts tangling in a chaotic whirlwind, but the urgency in Jade¡¯s tone left no room for debate. Slinging the backpack¡ªwhich now held my newly acquired drone¡ªover my shoulder, I turned toward Misha, forcing my voice to remain steady. ¡°Misha, Jade and Ela deeply apologise, but it seems trouble has found us. Ela promises to return as soon as time permits, but we must leave now. Ela truly hopes this won¡¯t cause any issues for Misha¡­¡± Misha tilted her head, her glinting ruby-like eyes narrowing slightly in concern. ¡°Misha does not sense immediate danger here, but if Jade and Ela believe it is necessary, Misha understands. Misha hopes the trouble does not follow and that Jade and Ela remain safe.¡± Her words were calm, but there was a subtle undertone of worry that lingered in the air. I gave her a quick, grateful nod before spinning on my heel to follow Jade, who was already making a beeline for the Emporium¡¯s exit, her pace quick and purposeful. ¡°You got any more intel for me here? How do you know they¡¯re coming? What¡¯s going on?¡± I fired off questions at her back, my mind scrambling to piece together any shred of information that could help me form even a rudimentary plan. ¡®How the hell did they even find us¡­?¡¯ We¡¯d been careful on our exit from the 38th floor. After yesterday¡¯s run-in, we¡¯d gone out of our way to switch elevators on the 16th, avoid predictable paths, and ensure that we weren¡¯t being followed. And the restricted floors? They weren¡¯t just inaccessible; they were off-limits to anyone without proper clearance. The Golden Phoenix shouldn¡¯t have been able to get anywhere close enough to follow me at all. ¡®So how the hell did they track me here? Did they follow Jade, somehow¡­?¡¯ The possibilities churned in my head, but none of them felt right. Jade had been even more cautious than me, I had to begrudgingly admit. And she had actual professionals to watch over her, like Vega and her sisters. So the chance that she had messed up immediately and gotten herself followed here was very slim. ¡°Do you know how many there are? Are they armed?¡± I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady as we neared the exit. Jade glanced back briefly, her expression tight, her words quick and clipped. ¡°Vega had Citrina tail me after the run-in with the enforcers. Just in case. Citrina spotted them heading for the Emporium and sent me a message to get out ASAP. I don¡¯t know how many there are, but you can bet they¡¯re armed¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t bother hunting us down without packing heat.¡± It made sense. I couldn¡¯t really blame Vega for having us shadowed after yesterday¡¯s fiasco¡ªif anything, I was relieved knowing we weren¡¯t entirely alone in this mess. Still, my mind churned as I followed Jade. Would it really be safer to leave? Rockefeller Inc. wouldn¡¯t just let random gangers stir up trouble in one of their stores, especially not on their controlled floors. The corporation valued its pristine reputation far too much to tolerate chaos, even from a gang as seemingly bold as the Golden Phoenix. But staying might be just as dangerous, if not more. The last thing I wanted was to risk putting Misha in harm¡¯s way. Rockefeller Inc. might enforce harsh repercussions, but no punishment could fix injuries¡ªor worse, bring someone back from the dead. Lost in my thoughts, I almost slammed into Jade when she came to a sudden stop. ¡°What are you doing?! We have to go!¡± she barked, frustration boiling over as she gestured ahead. Peering around her, I saw the source of her frustration. Misha was standing in the store¡¯s entrance, her towering figure blocking the way out entirely. Somehow, the Gryplik had overtaken us without a sound, positioning herself between us and the exit like an immovable wall. ¡°Misha, what¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, my voice laced with both confusion and concern. Misha¡¯s ruby-like eyes gleamed, her posture tall and unyielding. ¡°Misha does not allow friends to leave in danger. If there are enemies, Misha will help deal with them.¡± The weight of her words hit me like a hammer, a wave of conflicting emotions surging through me¡ªgratitude, worry, and frustration all wrestling for dominance. This wasn¡¯t the time for Misha to play the hero, no matter how well-intentioned she was. ¡°Misha, we really¡ª¡± ¡°No. Misha will help,¡± she interrupted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Before I could protest further, Misha seemingly conjured a set of four crates from thin air. Whether she¡¯d had them hidden behind her or stashed beneath nearby mountains of merchandise, I couldn¡¯t tell. The speed and precision with which she presented them were almost disorienting. She gestured to the crates with a sharp motion. ¡°Take. Use to defend friends, then return them to Misha. Misha makes an exception for friends¡ªbut don¡¯t expect Misha to give away free stuff, yes?¡± The mix of urgency in her voice and the unexpected generosity threw me off for a moment. I glanced at Jade, who looked equally stunned, before stepping forward to inspect the crates. Whatever Misha had stashed in them, it was clear she wasn¡¯t planning on letting us leave without retrieving whatever was inside¡­ Chapter 103 - Neco We didn¡¯t have the luxury of time to gawk or question the absurdity of Misha suddenly loaning us high-tech gear. The Golden Phoenix¡¯s people were closing in fast. Without wasting another second, Jade and I flipped open the crates, only to freeze in stunned disbelief at what we saw inside. ¡°Vibro-blade, Vibro-knife, and two Kinetic-Resistance Masks,¡± Misha declared proudly, her tone brimming with satisfaction. ¡°Misha did not have two of the same blade on hand, so this combination must suffice.¡± I barely registered the second part of her explanation, my focus entirely captured by the contents in front of me. This wasn¡¯t just good gear¡ªthis was top-notch equipment, leagues above what Jade or I could have realistically hoped to acquire any time soon¡ªor maybe ever. Vibro-weapons, as the name suggested, operated by vibrating at frequencies so high they didn¡¯t need a traditional edge. The oscillations alone were enough to effortlessly slice through most materials, turning them into weapons that could cut through nearly anything short of heavily reinforced armor. The Kinetic-Resistance Masks were just as mind-blowing, if not more so. They offered extreme protection against kinetic forces¡ªwhether it was a punch, a knife, or even bullets. High-Tier versions of these masks in the game could render the wearer nearly impervious to physical harm, even negating the blunt force trauma that normally accompanied bullet impacts. And the ones Misha had provided? They weren¡¯t just functional¡ªthey were beautiful, clearly high-Tier in make. Styled after traditional Japanese Oni masks, one was jet-black with white accents, while the other was its inverse, stark white with black details. The intricate craftsmanship and vibrant, deep colors gave them an almost ceremonial air. ¡°This¡­ this is insane,¡± I muttered under my breath, still struggling to wrap my head around the quality of what Misha had just casually offered us. ¡°Put on, quick, quick!¡± Misha¡¯s voice snapped me back to the present, her urgency cutting through my thoughts. ¡°When Ela and Jade put on the masks, tap the right side twice. The top half will go translucent¡ªin case conversation is necessary.¡± Her reminder jolted us into action. Jade and I exchanged a quick glance; we really couldn¡¯t afford to stand here gawking. Without further hesitation, we each grabbed a mask and slipped it on; I went for the white one, while Jade picked up the black one. The mask fit perfectly as I placed it over my face, the braided wires wrapping themselves snugly and automatically around my head with an unsettling precision; it somewhat reminded me of those face-huggers from the classic Alien movies back in my old world, sending a bit of a shiver down my spine. The weight of the mask was distributed so evenly by the wires, however, that it felt almost as if it wasn¡¯t there at all, quickly making me forget that I was even wearing it in the first place. Following Misha¡¯s instructions, I tapped the right side twice. Instantly, the upper half of the mask became translucent, providing a crystal-clear view of my surroundings while the lower half retained its fierce, Oni-inspired design. Jade glanced between the vibro-blade and vibro-knife, her gaze lingering on the blade with a mixture of awe and apprehension. ¡°I¡­ uh, I¡¯ve never used anything like that before,¡± she admitted, motioning to the vibro-blade. ¡°Knives? Sure. But something that size? I wouldn¡¯t even know where to start.¡± Her honesty was refreshing, and it made the decision simple. ¡°I¡¯ll take the blade, then,¡± I said, reaching for it. ¡°I¡¯m no master, but I¡¯ve got a little experience with longer weapons. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s better than nothing.¡± Of course, I wasn¡¯t about to disclose the full truth¡ªthat my ¡°experience¡± mostly came from the single level I had gained in [{Anima-Razor}] since the merging of the Skills and the fleeting memories of wielding the Data-Blade in Cyberspace. Instead, I kept my explanation vague, adding, ¡°It should be enough to hold my own for now.¡± With the weapons divvied up, Misha quickly walked us through their activation mechanisms. ¡°Simple buttons here,¡± she explained, pointing to small, well-hidden switches near the hilt of each weapon. ¡°Press once for activation, twice for off. Don¡¯t hold unless Misha teaches further¡ªit can enter maintenance mode!¡± Jade and I nodded, absorbing her instructions like eager students. With a mutual glance, we both activated our weapons briefly, watching as the vibro-tech roared to life. The hum was faint but powerful, and the edges of both weapons seemed to shimmer as they vibrated at imperceptibly high frequencies. ¡°Thanks, Misha. Sincerely,¡± I said, deactivating the blade and slipping it into one of the belts on my gear. ¡°This is¡­ beyond generous.¡± Before I could say anything else, Misha pulled me into a tight, almost bone-crushing hug. ¡°Ela must be careful,¡± she said firmly, her voice laced with worry. ¡°Misha does not loan such precious items lightly. Bring them¡ªand Ela¡ªback safe. Misha will not accept anything else.¡± Jade stood to the side, awkwardly holding the vibro-knife, until Misha turned her head abruptly and added, ¡°Jade too. Be careful, yes?¡± With a sheepish nod, Jade managed a quiet, ¡°Of course.¡± Just as we were about to turn towards the exit and leave, Misha thrust two small metal cards into our hands, each engraved with the words ¡°Misha¡¯s Emporium.¡± The Gryplik¡¯s tone turned almost business-like as she explained, ¡°Customer cards. If unthinkable happens and Ela or Jade does not return, Guards will find these and bring items back to Misha. Misha cannot give away such expensive wares without some insurance, after all.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin at the practicality, even in a moment like this. ¡°Understood. We¡¯ll do our best to make sure it doesn¡¯t come to that.¡± Misha gave a sharp nod, her usual energy returning as she ushered us toward the exit. ¡°Go, go! Misha will handle the rest. Trouble will not follow here for long.¡± As we moved toward the exit, a sudden thought struck me like a lightning bolt, and I grabbed Jade¡¯s arm, stopping her mid-step. ¡°Wait. Why are we heading for the front door?¡± I asked, my voice low but firm. ¡°An Emporium like this has to have a backdoor, right?¡± Misha, ever attentive, immediately perked up. ¡°Of course! Misha can show¡ª¡± Before she could even finish, Jade raised her hand to cut her off, shaking her head as she turned to face me. ¡°No, that¡¯s not going to work. The Golden Phoenix guys already thought about that,¡± she said, her tone sharp with urgency. ¡°Citrina¡¯s message said someone¡¯s stationed at the backdoor. It¡¯s covered. The only reason the front door isn¡¯t completely blocked off yet is because the group ran into some Rockefeller Inc. guards. But they won¡¯t be held up for long¡ªthey¡¯re bound to split up and cover the front soon, too.¡± Misha paused mid-step, her towering figure frozen in place as she processed Jade¡¯s words. ¡°That is¡­ unfortunate,¡± Misha said slowly, her voice losing a fraction of its usual confidence. Jade¡¯s words settled heavily in my chest, but I quickly pushed the growing dread aside. ¡°Alright, then we don¡¯t have time to stand around and debate. Let¡¯s keep moving through the front and hope we can slip out before they split up and close us in.¡± I could see Jade¡¯s jaw tighten at the suggestion, but she nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the only plan I managed to come up with as well. No point wasting more time, let¡¯s go.¡± Misha, clearly displeased but understanding the urgency, quickly stepped aside to let us continue toward the front. I gave her a final glance, full of gratitude and worry, before turning back to Jade and confirming, ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± With that, we resumed our hurried pace toward the exit. We burst through the doors into the reception area, then pushed straight through the front entrance of Misha¡¯s Emporium and into the main thoroughfare. The haphazard placement of items inside the store had turned our dash into a bit of an obstacle course, but somehow, we managed to avoid tripping over anything¡ªa minor miracle in itself. Once outside, I immediately turned to Jade, my voice low but sharp. ¡°Which direction?¡± Her eyes darted around, scanning the area as if mentally piecing together the map from Citrina¡¯s intel. ¡°Left,¡± she said quickly, already taking a step forward. ¡°We need to head toward the eastern elevator bank¡ªit¡¯s the fastest route out of here that doesn¡¯t directly lead us to them¡­ I hope.¡± I nodded, pretending I didn¡¯t hear the quietly whispered ¡°I hope¡± at the end, and fell in step beside her, my thoughts racing even faster than my feet. It felt terrible, running blind like this, relying entirely on Jade¡¯s thoroughly limited intel. Every fiber of my being itched for more information¡ªsomething solid to work with that could give us an edge; and more importantly: Would get me out of here alive. ¡®If only I was better at netrunning¡­¡¯ I thought bitterly, frustration welling up at my own shortcomings. ¡®I could¡¯ve hacked into the cameras around here and gotten immediate eyes on the Golden Phoenix team. Hell, I could¡¯ve mapped out the whole damn area in seconds if I had the right skillset.¡¯ But I didn¡¯t. And for now, all I could do was trust Jade¡¯s instincts and keep moving. We pushed forward, our pace quickening with every step. The narrow street we had turned into stretched ahead, a maze of dim lighting and cluttered stalls that offered little in the way of cover. I kept my eyes darting between the path ahead and the surrounding area, every shadow and movement a potential threat. But before we could even reach the next intersection, a voice cut through the tension like a blade¡ªsharp, mocking, and utterly dripping with contempt. ¡°Look who thought they could just come to my house, cripple my son, and then walk away scot-free, boys.¡± The voice was female, venomous, and carried a chilling confidence that made my stomach drop. My head snapped to the side as two men stepped out of a nearby alleyway, each one towering and menacing, their presence alone enough to stop us dead in our tracks. ¡°It¡¯s the two stupid whores! What a surprise to meet you little girls here,¡± the woman continued, emerging from the shadows herself with a slow, deliberate stride. She was tall and lean, her movements radiating a predatory grace. Her eyes were cold and locked onto us like a pair of gunsights. ¡°Why don¡¯t we sit down for a little talk, what say you? I have been specifically ordered to talk to you, after all,¡± she sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smile. My heart pounded as I instinctively reached for the vibro-blade at my side, the weight of the mask on my face grounding me just enough to keep my breathing steady. Beside me, Jade¡¯s hand twitched toward her knife as well, her knuckles white with tension. The men flanking the woman cracked their necks and knuckles in unison, a silent threat that spoke volumes. We were outnumbered and possibly outclassed, but there was no way we were going to sit down and play into her game. With only two guards, there was more of a chance for us to potentially fight and escape than if we sat down and talked, only for the rest of the Golden Phoenix¡¯s group to show up¡ªthe woman was clearly stalling. I straightened, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fire of adrenaline surging through my veins. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive us if we decline the invitation. We¡¯re kind of in a hurry.¡± The woman¡¯s smile widened, her amusement rolling off her in waves that practically oozed malice. ¡°Oh, I insist. It¡¯d be rude not to, after all the trouble you¡¯ve caused.¡± I kept my gaze locked on her, her predatory energy putting the two men beside her to shame. She was dangerous¡ªmore dangerous than anyone I¡¯d ever run into, barring maybe Valeria herself¡ªand it radiated from her like heat from a roaring fire. Lowering my voice, but not my guard, I muttered to Jade, ¡°Any updates on your sister? Is she going to help us here?¡± Jade¡¯s reply came quickly, but the hesitation in her voice was unmistakable. ¡°No, nothing. I haven¡¯t heard from her since the first message¡­ She must be trying to buy us time somewhere else.¡± ¡°Great,¡± I muttered under my breath, keeping my expression neutral as I raised my voice to respond to the woman. ¡°Who even are you?¡± The irritation that flickered across her face told me I¡¯d hit the wrong nerve, but I didn¡¯t care. I needed to stall, even if it meant pissing her off. She spat on the ground, her contempt so tangible it was almost suffocating. ¡°You stupid whores don¡¯t even know where you shit, huh? Typical low-life rats.¡± She straightened, her voice sharp and cutting as a blade. ¡°My name is Carinola Valir, and I just so happen to be the mother of Damien Valir¡ªthe poor boy you two rabid savages mauled on the 82nd floor just yesterday. Surely you have not forgotten?¡± Beside me, Jade sucked in a sharp breath, her tension hitting me like a freight train. That name clearly rang a few very loud alarm bells for her. It rang a few for me too, albeit more faintly. Vega had mentioned her during that quick elevator call when I¡¯d sold him Damien¡¯s gun. Something about how she¡¯d likely be trouble if she caught wind of what happened.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡®Trouble¡¯ didn¡¯t even begin to cover it, I now realised. She¡¯d found us way faster than I ever would¡¯ve expected. But how? Before I could dig any deeper into that particular rabbit hole, Jade leaned in, her voice low but laced with pure, unfiltered panic. ¡°That¡¯s a fucking Talon, Ela. We can¡¯t fight her! She¡¯ll kill us both without even trying! I know you¡¯re crazy and all, but seriously, we can¡¯t fight her! You don¡¯t know how much Cybernetics she¡¯s got, and her equipment¡­ We have to run!¡± My heart sank at the word Talon. It wasn¡¯t a title I had any personal experience with, but the sheer weight of it in Jade¡¯s voice told me everything I needed to know. A Talon wasn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªthey were the danger. If Jade, who seemed to think I could pull miracles out of thin air, didn¡¯t believe I stood a chance, then we were in some seriously deep shit. My mind raced as I scanned the area, my eyes darting from one potential escape route to another. Backtracking the way we came was technically an option, but it wasn¡¯t a great one¡ªit would funnel us right into whoever might be trailing behind. Every other possible path was blocked; the two men and Carinola had positioned themselves with precision, cutting off every exit like the pros they evidently were. ¡®Maybe if we¡ª¡¯ My frantic train of thought was derailed as Carinola¡¯s voice sliced through the tense silence, dripping with impatience and venom. ¡°Boys, go get those two whores for me, I tire of this. And don¡¯t be gentle. I don¡¯t need them to be functional or even really alive¡ªas long as they¡¯re technically breathing, that¡¯ll be good enough for Liliana.¡± The casual cruelty in her tone made my stomach twist. She wasn¡¯t just out for revenge¡ªshe was out to make an example. Jade and I didn¡¯t hesitate. Almost in unison, we drew our vibro-weapons and activated them, the quiet hum of the blades filling the air as the high-frequency vibrations kicked in. The faint shimmer along the edges of the weapons was almost mesmerizing¡ªbut it was the sharp, piercing sound they made when initially activated that sent a clear message: These weren¡¯t ordinary knives. The two enforcers stopped in their tracks, their brisk walk turning into a hesitant shuffle as their eyes darted to the deadly weapons in our hands. Even they weren¡¯t eager to charge headfirst into something this dangerous. For a brief moment, I dared to hope they might rethink their approach, but then Carinola cleared her throat. The sharp, deliberate sound sliced through the tension like a whip, snapping them back into motion. ¡°Who¡¯d you steal those pretty toys from, huh?¡± Carinola drawled, her voice dripping with genuine curiosity. She leaned against the alley wall, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. ¡°Tell me now, and maybe I¡¯ll be nice enough to return them to the rightful owners. Save you the trouble of having yet another debt to pay with your bodies. I hear the folks who own vibro-weapons aren¡¯t as¡­ forgiving as I am.¡± I ignored her entirely, focusing on the enforcer who had set his sights on me. He towered over me, easily 15 or 20 centimeters taller, and the twin knives he pulled out gleamed in the dim light, the high-quality craftsmanship immediately apparent. These weren¡¯t the cheap, low-Tier weapons that Damien and his crew had been fumbling with¡ªthese were professional-grade. Potentially even high enough Tier to pierce right through the Pseudo-Tier 1 clothing Jade and I were wearing as our only pieces of protective gear, barring the masks. I tightened my grip on the vibro-blade, trying to steady my breathing. This was going to be extremely dangerous, and without any real plan in place, I felt panic rise up in my throat. ¡®Think, Sera. You¡¯ve got the weapons. You¡¯ve got the gear. You¡¯ve got a fucking System¡­! Use them.¡¯ But even with that mantra, I couldn¡¯t ignore the sheer size difference and the fact that these enforcers had the kind of experience and confidence that only came from dealing with people like me on a regular basis. My mind scrambled to piece together a plan that wouldn¡¯t end with us in body bags. ¡®I have to keep my [Blademaster¡¯s Draw] for Carinola,¡¯ I reminded myself, teeth gritting at the realization. ¡®It¡¯s our only shot at leveling the playing field with her, so that move is completely off the table for the big guy.¡¯ I started shifting away from Jade, carefully pacing backward while keeping my blade ready. If I could split the enforcers up, even slightly, it might give us a sliver of a chance. Fighting back-to-back might¡¯ve worked with Jade on the 82nd floor, but these weren¡¯t the amateur punks we¡¯d faced there. These two were more trained, likely coordinated, and probably had the sort of long-running combat experience that made them more dangerous as a group than as individuals. ¡®The longer blade might help me keep him at bay,¡¯ I thought, side-eyeing the towering enforcer, ¡®but his sheer size is going to make closing the gap an absolute nightmare. Is this even possible¡­?¡¯ My mind raced as I scanned my available Skills, desperately trying to pull something actionable out of my mental database. [{Anima Razor}], [CQC], and [Martial Arts] all offered a wealth of knowledge, but nothing screamed ¡°perfect counter to giant guy with two knives and zero hesitation.¡± Instead, they hammered home the basics: Keep moving. Control the range. Footwork is everything. ¡®Footwork is everything, huh? Thanks for fucking nothing, System!¡¯ I felt the panic creeping in, hot and heavy, as the enforcer closed the gap. Every step he took felt like the clang of a prison door slamming shut. My grip tightened on the vibro-blade as I tried to ready myself, but my thoughts were spiraling. ¡®Fuck, fuck, FUCK¡ª¡¯ Then, just as his first step into my engagement range landed, my Ego flipped the switch. The heat of panic iced over instantly. My thoughts condensed, every extraneous worry disappearing in a clean sweep. My focus tunneled entirely onto the massive man in front of me. My breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, and my stance adjusted instinctively. This wasn¡¯t survival mode¡ªit was surgical. The enforcer made the first move, lunging in with one knife aimed to feint low while the other came slicing toward my upper torso. My blade flicked into position like a second heartbeat, ready to meet him. My blade connected with his knife, allowing me to deflect it while stepping backwards and regaining some distance. The enforcer¡¯s initial approach was cautious and his eyes never strayed from the vibrating hum of my blade. He feinted low, then aimed a quick slash high, forcing me to react. My vibro-blade intercepted, the deadly edge slicing through the air with a high-pitched scream but narrowly missing his arm as he pulled back. His hesitation was clear¡ªhe knew just how dangerous my weapon was and wasn¡¯t about to charge headlong into it. I kept my footwork tight, circling and stepping backward, using every ounce of the reach my blade afforded me to stay out of his range. But even that proved difficult, as his larger overall size narrowed that gap tremendously. He lunged again, testing my defenses with quick jabs and sudden swipes, each attack designed to measure my reflexes. I parried clumsily, the edge of my blade singing as it deflected one of his knives, while the other scraped dangerously close to my arm. ¡®Keep moving. Control the range,¡¯ I reminded myself over and over again, my muscles screaming to stay nimble despite the rising tension. The only thing keeping me focused on the fight was my Ego, making sure that I didn¡¯t lose myself in the panic of back-to-back near-death-experiences every time the enforcer came in for an attack. Unfortunately, he was quickly beginning to pick up on my lack of finesse. My strikes were clearly mechanical, my counters hesitant, and my footwork betrayed the fact that I was relying more on instinct than any real technique. His confidence visibly grew with every exchange, as his eyes darted towards my blade less and less often, and it showed in his attacks¡ªbolder, faster, more precise. He ducked under a wide slash of my blade, rolling to the side and coming up with a knife aimed straight for my torso. I barely managed to sidestep, my jacket catching the tip of his blade and splitting slightly at the edge¡ªas I had thought, his knives were at least Tier 1, potentially even Pseudo Tier 2. My armour would only be a minor inconvenience at best. He smirked, clearly enjoying himself now. Sweat dripped down my temple into the mask as I swung again, this time aiming for his legs in a desperate attempt to slow him down. He sidestepped effortlessly, his grin widening. ¡°You don¡¯t know what the fuck you¡¯re doing with that thing, do you?¡± he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement as he advanced. I ignored him, focusing on the rhythm of his attacks. Another feint¡ªlow this time¡ªfollowed by a lightning-quick swipe aimed at my ribs. I immediately realized that I parried too late, the vibrations of my blade meeting his knife for just a split second before his second blade came darting forward, forcing me to stumble backwards, slightly losing my balance. That was his opening¡ªand he took it. With a quick sidestep, he slipped past my off-balance guard, his knife driving toward my side. My jacket''s fabric groaned as it absorbed some of the impact, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The knife tore through, biting into my flesh with a searing jolt of pain. I gasped, instinctively pulling away as I swiped the blade close to his throat, forcing him to retreat and regaining distance as my other hand shot to my side. Blood was already seeping through my fingers, warm and sticky. The enforcer¡¯s grin stretched wider as he spun his knives idly, clearly savoring his upper hand. My breath came shallow and fast, the pain radiating from the wound should have been threatening to overwhelm me, but it barely even registered thanks to the adrenaline pumping through me and my Ego¡¯s best efforts. I couldn¡¯t afford to stop or get distracted¡ªhe was coming again. The enforcer pressed harder now, his attacks utterly unrelenting. His knives came at me in rapid succession¡ªslashes, stabs, and feints that kept me constantly on the defensive. Every swing of my vibro-blade felt slower, heavier, as if the weight of my injuries was starting to drag me down. A sudden swipe nicked my upper arm, the blade cutting cleanly through the fabric and grazing my skin. Pain flared sharp and immediate, but I had no time to dwell on it. The enforcer¡¯s next attack came low, aiming for my thigh. I barely dodged, stumbling back, but his second knife followed seamlessly, slicing across my forearm as I raised it in a desperate block. The wounds weren¡¯t deep, but they were enough to sap my already dwindling energy. ¡®This isn¡¯t fucking working! I¡¯m going to fucking die at this rate,¡¯ I thought, my mind scrambling for a solution as I retreated a few steps to catch even a sliver of breathing room. My eyes flickered to the side, driven by instinct. A part of me hoped, prayed even, that Jade might be faring better¡ªmaybe even well enough to help. But what I saw froze me in my tracks. Jade was on her back, scrambling desperately to put distance between herself and her attacker. Blood smeared the ground beneath her, pooling ominously as she clawed at the slick pavement to get away. The other enforcer advanced steadily, his knife glinting red with her blood, his intent to finish her off chillingly clear in every deliberate step. Time froze. Not literally, of course, but in that moment, my mind surged into overdrive. Everything else fell away, leaving me in a cold, crystalline state of clarity. ¡®What the actual fuck am I doing here¡­?¡¯ The thought hit me like an avalanche, barreling past my growing despair. ¡®Why the fuck am I fighting like this? Why am I still trying to escape when they¡¯re clearly not giving us the option?¡¯ The realization spread through me like wildfire, burning away the fog clouding my judgment. I wasn¡¯t fighting to win¡ªI was fighting to run. Even as this man aimed to carve me apart, I¡¯d been trying to avoid killing him. I¡¯d been holding back, trying to disarm or disable him, clinging to some foolish, misplaced hope that I could somehow end this without taking a life. But this wasn¡¯t a sparring match, wasn¡¯t a skirmish. This was survival in its purest, ugliest form. It was kill or be killed. And my hesitation to cross that line, to take that final step from injuring somebody to killing them, wasn¡¯t just putting me at risk; it was threatening to cost Jade her life, too. She was dying. I was losing. I had been fighting like there was another way out this entire time. ¡®But there isn¡¯t¡­ is there? If I don¡¯t end this now, she¡¯s dead. I¡¯m dead. This is it.¡¯ Something shifted deep inside me. A switch flipped. Immediately, my Ego surged like a starving predator having located injured prey, quelling and silencing the despair, the panic and the lingering hesitation that I had been holding onto this entire time in an instant. Everything else dissolved, leaving only a singular, primal purpose: ¡°Kill.¡± As time resumed, the enforcer eagerly stepped forward, sensing the momentary stillness in me as weakness. I moved first. The first strike was precise and ruthless, my vibro-blade causing the air to scream as it arced toward his chest. His eyes widened in surprise at the sudden shift in my approach, and he barely managed to deflect the blade away from his heart. But I didn¡¯t stop there. Another strike followed, then another¡ªa rapid series of sharp, deliberate slashes aimed at his vitals. The enforcer stumbled back, his earlier confidence replaced with frantic, desperate attempts to parry the relentless assault. Gone was the wild flailing of a novice trying to survive. My attacks now were calculated, surgically aimed to kill. He deflected a slash aimed at his throat, but the force of the swing sent his arm reeling. Recovering from the initial shock, he growled and pressed forward, countering with a downward slash of one knife while angling the other toward my ribs. I pivoted, deflecting the first knife with a somewhat clumsy parry of my blade. Then, instead of dodging the second knife as instinct demanded, I leaned into it. The knife shot toward my throat, but I deliberately moved my head into its path. Fully trusting in Misha¡¯s gear, I headbutted the blade, the Kinetic Resistance Mask absorbing the full brunt of the impact with an almost eerie ease. The force going out from the Mask, as it discharged the kinetic energy into the opposite direction, ripped the knife from his hands and sent it flying through the street, the enforcer momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of my move. I didn¡¯t waste the opening. Mid-step, I brought the vibro-blade around in a deadly arc, slicing clean through his other forearm at the elbow. His severed limb fell uselessly to the ground, his remaining knife clattering beside it. A guttural scream erupted from him as he stumbled back, trying to retreat, but I had the speed advantage, already closing the gap. My blade screamed through the air one more time, carving clean through his right knee and severing the leg entirely. He collapsed backward, his body giving out as his remaining hand scrambled desperately to clutch the bloody stump of his arm. But desperation wasn¡¯t enough to save him. He was still alive; I had not killed him yet¡ªthat wasn¡¯t acceptable. Before his body hit the ground, I stepped into the swing, pouring all my strength into one last strike. The vibro-blade whirred viciously as it arced through the air, its edge slicing effortlessly through flesh and bone alike, as if it was mere paper. The cut was clean, precise¡ªa single motion that separated his head from his shoulders. His body crumpled lifelessly to the ground, blood pooling rapidly beneath him. But I didn¡¯t stop to admire my handiwork¡ªthere was no time for that. Even as his severed head rolled to a stop, I was still moving. I pivoted sharply, my hand darting to my side with practiced speed, fingers wrapping around one of my throwing knives. My breath was ragged, the exertion and pain from my wounds clawing at the edges of my focus, but I wasn¡¯t done. ¡®[Sharpen].¡¯ The Ability activated with a flicker of thought, the blade in my hand gleaming dangerously as its edge gained a supernatural sharpness. Without hesitation, I launched it, aiming straight for the back of the second enforcer¡¯s head. I would have hated the thought of killing somebody like this; so I didn¡¯t think. The knife spun through the air as I finally sank down onto one knee. My lungs burned, my chest heaving as I tried to gulp in air. Blood trickled steadily from my wounds, staining the ground beneath me as I fought to stay conscious. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest, but I forced myself to hold on¡ªjust a little longer. Then, a sickening thud cut through the street, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground in a crumpled heap. I didn¡¯t need to look. The sound was confirmation enough¡­