4. First Magic
In the world of [Cyberpunk: Eden], nine out of ten people implant a "nano computer"—an implant that's literally a tiny computer. It lets you use high-performance computing without sitting at a desk. Hack it, and you can pinpoint the person's exact location, see what they're doing, learn their family ties, even their sexual preferences.
That's why people on the run from corps avoid utility implants like the plague, even as they lean on combat ones. But if you need to record video evidence? Analog is king. A camera that stores on tape! A player that reads the tape!
"...Why me, exactly?"
"Need a camera mount."
And just like that, it was decided. A fist-sized bodycam strapped to Topher's massive frame looked downright adorable.
"We have drones too, but..."
Soo didn't answer, just stared at Topher.
"...Tripods are ready as well."
Soo's steps halted abruptly. Topher recoiled in panic.
"Topher."
"I'm honored you chose me anyway."
"Yeah. Take it as an honor. But... didn't you hear that just now?"
Soo's eyes widened as she scanned around. Nothing in sight. Not surprising. The wasteland terrain was brutally rugged. Hills, cliffs, upheavals, sinkholes—nothing flat, so you couldn't even make out something 100 meters ahead. Throw in a sandstorm, and you might as well be blind at arm's length.
"No idea what you're talking about, ma'am. I didn't hear a thing."
Soo's ears perked up. A motion no human could manage, but she pulled it off effortlessly. Of course, she had no clue her ears were even moving.
"I definitely heard it."
"What'd it sound like?"
"Car... and terminal?"
"Buggy engine screams. White noise out here."
Soo let out a small laugh at Topher's casual reply. Nothing major, but it drove home what kind of world this was.
"You sounded like a total vet scavenger there."
"Haha, even as a one-year rookie, I'm known for packing a punch among the crew."
"Future of scavenging looks bleak."
"...Past and present too. So, which way we headed?"
Soo's ears twitched again. Her hidden tail slithered free with a soft shh, then snapped out pointing like a finger.
"That way."
"Northeast... off our path a bit, but better safe."
Topher draped a clay-colored poncho over Soo. Perfect wasteland camouflage—scavengers' go-to for dodging eyes. Miserably hot, but better than dying. The ultimate testament to a scavenger's will to live.
Luckily, no stench. They'd kindly washed it first. But it was oversized. Same model as Topher's, which hit mid-calf just right; on Soo, it dragged on the ground.
"...Sis—er, boss. Only size we had... I'll grab smaller next time."
"It's fine."
She considered cutting it but tied the hem at her waist instead. Ponchos like this were precious to scavengers. Topher's gesture deserved respect.
"Whoa."
"Yeah... now I hear it too."
Loud enough for Topher now. Buggy rumble and screams—wasteland staples, everyday static. But two issues: screams from Proof Ruins direction, and not a fight, but a one-sided slaughter.
'Kill that fucker!' turning to 'What the hell is that thing...!' a dozen times over. One side getting crushed.
"Tch, voices sound like Maika Family."
"From voices alone?"
"That shrill squeal mixed in? That's Maika, their boss. Botched vocal implant from a back-alley doc."
"Oh."
Game had implant side effects sometimes—minor HP or stamina dips if unlucky. Nothing this detailed. Reality hit different. Vocal cords were bad enough; botch a heart or lung?
"Intriguing."
"...Intriguing. Right."
Topher flinched at Soo's murmur. Whispers of "intriguing" amid those screams? Chills.
"Not that we get along, so no tears here. But..."
"But?"
"They could throw punches."
"Stronger than Topher Family?"
"We're tops around here."
Topher shouldered his rifle, dropping low.
"Scout, slip in post-fight."
"Oh."
Scavengers: wasteland vultures, hyenas. Topher mastered it in a year. Made you wonder about his merc days.
"...Though Boss Soo could stroll right in."
"Yeah."
"No need to crawl like me? Gets you dirty."
"Wasteland rules, wasteland ways."
"...Got it."
Soo flattened like Topher, inching forward. Cresting the ridge, her tail shot skyward.
"B-Boss?!"
"Found it."
Tail up, Soo sprang upright, staring across.
"My magic!"
Grinning like a kid reclaiming a toy, she bolted.
"...Wasteland rules?"
Topher muttered, stunned and alone. Three minutes after she'd sworn to follow them...
Wasteland buggies droned endlessly, guns barked in staccato bursts, screams pierced the air. Crimson flames roared atop it all. They'd even unleashed precious napalm rounds.
"Fire! Keep firing!!"
A man's voice—far too shrill—unleashed a bullet hail like monsoon rain. Even the wasteland's rare downpours weren't this fierce.
Pointless. The figure bursting from the inferno wasn't singed anywhere.
"F-Fucking fire won't stick, shit! What the hell is that thing?!"
Maika's signature screech grated, but no one could react. Who could, facing that?
"Why won't it drop dead?!"
No armor implant withstands bullets unscratched—especially not this barrage. Joints should've caught some. Elites used reinforced tendons, optic assists to block or dodge. Even scavengers in numbers posed risks.
But this foe? Rifles, heavy rounds, rocket launchers—ignored. Charging on.
"Why's it so goddamn fast?!"
Matching the buggies. No shake on impacts. Invisible wall repelled everything—bullets, shells dropping limp.
"Bro, that... ain't that it? Y'know... what's it called? High-roller corp shit!"
"What're you—oh, Repulsor?"
Repulsor: elite corp gear, 3-mega exclusive. Mystery tech, but everyone knew: repulsion field halts or shreds anything near.
Maika eyed the figure still eating bullets. Yeah... shots stopped just shy of skin, plummeting.
"Fuck! It's a Repulsor!"
He'd never seen one—too cowardly for corp lines. But certain. Nothing else explained it. Like calling hacks on a gaming god.
"Repulsor!!"
Unlike games, real stakes. That word crushed Maika Family spirits. Repulsor meant corp death squad. Annihilation incoming.
Run? If corps chased to wasteland, it was kill-on-sight. Best: die clean. Capture meant unspeakable experiments.
Rumors, maybe—but no risks.
"Block it! Don't scatter, block!! You fucking dogs...!"
But Maika craved life. Ugly, desperate—whatever.
"Payment for protection: your lives!!"
Small remote from his pocket. Buggy bombs, wheel hacks. Driver panicked, then relaxed—same side now.
Betrayal? Nah, never truly loyal. Maika neither.
"Thanks! Never see you again, bastards!!"
As Maika thumbed the button—
"That's not a Repulsor."
A little girl appeared beside him. Sudden as a punch, Maika gaped like an idiot.
"Wh-Who the... hell're you?"
"Not a Repulsor."
What the fuck is this chick? I'm on a speeding buggy—how'd she hop on?
Maika nodded blankly anyway. Ignore her, die. Those slit silver-gray eyes screamed it.
"Not curious?"
"Th-Then... what is it...?"
The girl beamed.
"Magic."
"...Huh? Y-Yes?"
"Yeah, probably a shield?"
"What...?"
She brandished her tiny fist like a trophy, whispering:
"This is shield-breaking magic."
Last words.
The girl hopped off the racing buggy, punched.
Thud. The figure crumpled.