Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Master of the City
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I walk through the dark alley.
Toward a place far from the city's lights, where no signs of life stir.
My goal is singular: to escape this city.
And along the way, to meet its true master—my real objective.
The plan is proceeding as scheduled.
'They're chasing me.'
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echo.
I tilt my head, focusing on the sound.
'One, two, three. No—four of them.'
Matching my stride, they tail me cautiously.
So faint that without concentration, I'd mistake it for my own footsteps.
Silent. Stealthy.
The pressure closing in from all sides weighs heavy on my shoulders.
I don't dispel my stealth.
They can't see me.
But I'm definitely being pursued.
Probably tracking me with some artifact or another method.
I'd braced for this the moment I revealed myself to the mana stone merchant, but their response was swift.
'Just a bit further, and I'll be out of the city.'
I recall what a Night's Fangs member told me in my past life.
—Follow the dying embers that lose their light.—
It sounds cryptic, but it means exactly what it says: seek the flickering light.
Leave the city brimming with illumination, scour the ruins, and you'll spot that anomalous structure blinking away.
Drip. Plop.
A flickering bulb—the lone light piercing these ruins.
The locals call it fireflies or will-o'-the-wisps, among other names, but I know its true designation.
Streetlamp.
A structure of technological advancement impossible in this world.
Even more alien in this bizarre space of eternal night.
Just like when I entered, blink beneath that flickering light.
About twenty meters to the street.
A sprint would close the distance in seconds.
Whoosh!
A rustle brushes my collar.
Followed by a sharp, slicing sensation.
My reaction is swift.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Countless lines slash the air, a hail of daggers embedding before me.
As if drawing a line I absolutely cannot cross.
"Halt."
A chilling voice rumbles low.
"You cannot pass from here."
From the shadows emerges a figure, a thug in a red mask, blocking my rear as if he'd been there all along.
"Surrender quietly, and I'll spare your life."
A keen blade presses against my throat.
A blatant warning: any funny business, and it's severed. I shrug my shoulders.
"I'm just passing through briefly. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me go like this. Possible?"
"You think that flies?"
The pressure on my throat intensifies.
A red trickle runs down my neck, staining my collar.
"You've uncovered secrets you shouldn't know. For the city's peace, you must vanish."
"You said you'd spare me just now, but now it's death. Doesn't add up, does it?"
"I mean I'll keep you alive for now. There's much to extract from you."
The other presences hidden in the dark reveal themselves.
Encircling me to prevent escape, they train their weapons on me.
"How did you learn of this city? How'd you get the code? And you know our internal layout too?"
"Questions one at a time, please. If you just ramble, how can I answer?"
"You plan to answer?"
"Nothing I can't say."
I speak casually, and they scoff.
They think I'll do anything pathetic to survive.
"Fine, then. Whose orders are you on?"
"My own initiative. I don't like working under anyone, so no boss to speak of."
"So you got the code to enter Night City all by yourself?"
"Yes. First time here too..."
Stab!
Before I finish, a sharp pain sears my leg.
The blade that was at my throat now plunges into my thigh.
"Don't bullshit me! You expect me to believe you cracked the code solo, pinpointed the entry spot, identified an insider merchant, and traded? Believe that?"
"Well, I said it, but yeah, it does sound like a lie."
"Then spit it out now. I'll end it painlessly."
The gang member grips the dagger's hilt in my leg and twists hard.
Crazy bastard—can't even match words to actions himself but demands it from me.
"I'll be honest. I get what you mean, but my response has to be this."
"Hm?"
"Don't view the world through your narrow lens. Broaden your imagination."
For instance, imagine I'm a regressor, once part of your organization, returning on those memories.
Who'd dream up such madness? But to uncover my secret, that's the only path.
"The world defies your imagination in wild ways. Factor that in, and deduce how I got here."
"...What the hell are you on about?"
"Like this, Albert."
"Wha—how do you...!"
Instead of words, I answer with action.
Thwack!
I twist slightly, snapping my elbow back swiftly.
It arcs smoothly, smashing into his jaw.
That's how you figure it out yourself.
"Why stab my leg when your blade was right at my throat? Makes no sense."
"You bastard!"
Seeing their comrade fall, the rest draw daggers from their belts and charge.
They hurl them with expert precision.
Whoosh!
Blades curve acrobatically, a storm of spikes raining from all sides, peppering my body.
Like a porcupine bristling with quills.
Blood sprays, agony rips through my flesh.
Even then, they target legs and arms relentlessly.
Proof they don't intend to kill.
They need intel first—focus on disabling.
I know these gang members' skills.
They're pro assassins who know exactly where to strike without killing a hostage for torture.
Trusting that expertise, I don't dodge.
As expected, their daggers avoid vitals.
Perfectly as I hoped—made things much easier.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Berserker's Fury All Stats boosted. Pain ignored.
Whoosh!
I swing my fist.
A cannon-like whoosh hurtles toward the one lunging head-on.
"Damn...!"
He thrusts his dagger forward defensively.
Blue mana envelops it, enhancing durability and edge.
But—
Crack!
The blade shatters like sponge.
Fragments pierce his face.
Splatter!
His mask crumples; he gasps, expelling breath.
Instead of slamming him down, I grab his collar and spin.
"A gift!"
"Wai—!"
I twist again.
Like a pitcher mid-windup, I hurl him backward.
Boom!
The one ambushing from behind meets him in an ecstatic embrace, soaring far.
They crash into the wall, collapsing amid rubble—side by side.
'Last one.'
"Insane...!"
The remaining one, unscathed, assesses and leaps back, creating distance. Smart tactics—but a misjudgment, I decide.
'Haven't learned it as a skill yet.'
I scoop a small stone from the ground, gathering mana.
My power bends to my will, wrapping the stone in galaxy-like starlight.
A bizarre spiral of whirling mana like a sawblade. I flick it at him with my finger.
Scree!
The mana blade arcs like an arrow, soaring high.
No chance to evade mid-air.
Crack!
The bullet-like mana slug shatters his mask, smashing his head.
He plummets like a crashing plane, sporting a massive lump.
"That clears the tails from earlier."
I stretch, surveying the fallen.
Controlled my strength—no deaths.
But none look ready to rise.
No more fights now.
Handled all my pursuers.
And—
Swish!
"Quite the crowd."
Figures in matching attire now fill the surroundings.
No escape routes left; the horde encircles me.
"Heard a suspicious intruder breached my city. Got guts."
A low, oppressive voice crushes the space.
With those words, a man parts the masked throng, lighting a cigarette with a lighter.
Flick.
The tip glows red at his lips; thick smoke slowly fills the air.
A hulking bald man of immense build, exuding intimidation with sharp eyes and rigid stance alone—a giant.
His massive silhouette instinctively makes me step back.
—Follow me. I'll give you half this city.—
—Our meeting is fate ordained by heaven. Empty this glass, and we pledge eternity to each other.—
Past memories flash by.
The elegant woman's form, her carefree laugh as she swirled her glass.
Gentleness shining amid cruelty.
The tender side she showed only to me.
'Never gets less jarring, that shell.'
Elza Sirian—the woman now operating under the alias Aston.
She was the master of Knox, the city of night.