After resting for fifteen minutes, Arthur Vale finally stood up from the leather chair and forced himself to face reality.
Reality, in this case, was a mountain of junk.
Broken cyberware parts were piled everywhere in the workshop. Rust clung to metal surfaces. Some implants were cracked open, revealing tangled wiring and damaged circuitry. Others looked like they had been ripped straight out of someone's body without care.
Arthur crouched down and picked up a mechanical forearm.
Dead.
Completely unresponsive.
He lifted another component—fried neural ports. Burn marks along the edge.
Then he turned toward the massive object sitting in the corner.
He stared at it.
"…Is that a toilet?"
The shape was suspiciously similar.
He walked closer, squinting.
"No way… was the previous owner using this as—"
He stopped himself.
Night City was chaotic, but not that chaotic.
Still, the fact remained.
He had no idea how to properly install half of these things.
Even if he managed to install them—
Would they even work?
"System," Arthur muttered under his breath. "You loaded. You gave me talents. At least give me direction. Am I supposed to guess blindly?"
He absentmindedly wiped dried blood off the Succubus Type II unit while activating his neural interface, attempting to connect to the Net for research.
Then—
[Ding… System network connection successful.]
Arthur froze.
[Congratulations, host. You have acquired the talent "Mechanical Analysis."]
[Mechanical Analysis: Quickly determine the structure and composition of simple mechanical creations.]
Before he could react, another line appeared.
[First-time talent acquisition bonus: "Mechanical Truth."]
[Mechanical Truth: Extremely rapid learning speed for all mechanical-related knowledge.]
Arthur blinked.
"…Okay. That's good."
He waited.
"…Where's the mission? Where's my reward? Is the Mechanical Overlord System just going to sit there looking cool?"
Silence.
Then—
[Initial Mission Generated:]
[Learn mechanical human anatomy.]
[Perform mechanical modifications on ten patients.]
[Reward: Miniature EMP Electromagnetic Pulse Bomb Blueprint (after receiving positive feedback).]
Arthur stared at the words.
Was this a good start?
He wasn't sure.
But compared to worrying about mysterious figures like Mr. Blue Eyes manipulating the city from the shadows, this mission felt… practical.
Learn.
Operate.
Improve.
That was something he could control.
He stood up slowly.
"Scavengers…" he murmured.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"The era of me being your prey is ending."
He turned toward the computer beside the parts pile. Advanced mechanical creations were beyond him for now—but human anatomy? Neural connections between flesh and chrome?
With Mechanical Truth accelerating his learning speed—
He could master that.
He sat down and began studying obsessively.
---
Three days later.
Arthur had completed physical examinations for several Destiny Church members. He repaired minor implant malfunctions, adjusted neural interface calibrations, and—most notably—installed the Succubus Type II for Isa, one of the bar's affiliated workers.
The surgery was clean.
Sterile.
Precise.
No shaking hands. No nausea. No panic.
Mechanical Truth had turned complex anatomy into structured logic in his mind.
However, the secondhand cyberware was still secondhand.
Isa insisted on "repaying" him afterward with a deep massage.
Arthur refused firmly.
Not out of nobility.
Not out of purity.
But because after performing surgery from removal to installation, he now associated those implants with internal wiring, fluids, and sterilization procedures.
His brain refused to romanticize the situation.
Seven days later—noon.
Bain sat at the bar yawning, boredom written across his face.
Then he saw Arthur walk out of the workshop.
Arthur looked thinner.
Pale.
Eyes slightly sunken.
But there was a strange, confident smile on his face.
"Brother Arthur!" Bain jumped up. "No wonder you made me leader. You've been gone for ten days! It's been suffocating handling everything alone!"
Arthur waved casually.
His eyes scanned Bain automatically.
Information appeared in his mind almost instantly.
Right arm: Mechanical prosthetic. Improvised construction. Not a Gorilla Arms model. Assembled from mismatched components.
Eyes: Standard Kiroshi Gen 1 prosthetics. Low-tier. Basic enhancement only.
Arthur almost laughed internally.
Before, he couldn't tell junk from high-grade military chrome.
Now, one glance was enough.
"Bain," Arthur said calmly. "Come here. I made something for you."
"For me?" Bain blinked.
"It'll increase your combat power."
Without hesitation, Bain followed him into the workshop.
The moment he stepped inside, his expression stiffened.
The junk pile looked exactly the same.
Rust. Scrap. Wires.
If Arthur hadn't saved his life before, Bain might have questioned everything.
Arthur crouched and picked something up.
A rusty metal glove.
Wires hung loosely from its interior. The surface was scarred and scratched.
"Brother Arthur…" Bain swallowed. "Is that safe?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
He tapped the glove lightly.
In an instant—
The five fingers snapped open.
From each fingertip, a dark barrel slid forward with mechanical precision.
Five small shotgun muzzles.
Bain's eyes widened.
Arthur's voice was calm.
"This," he said, "is called Five-Finger Heart Picker."
He rotated the glove slightly, letting Bain see the internal chamber.
"It doesn't have wide-range capability. It's not for open combat."
He stepped closer.
"But in close quarters?"
He looked Bain straight in the eyes.
"It uses 12-gauge aluminum buckshot."
Bain's throat tightened.
"Shotguns don't measure in millimeters," Arthur continued casually. "They measure in gauge. Twelve-gauge means a lead ball that fits the barrel weighs one-twelfth of a pound."
He closed the glove slowly.
"In close range—face level—"
He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue.
"Single discharge."
"Bone fragmentation."
"Immediate heart removal."
Bain: "Σ(っ°Д°;)っ"
Arthur leaned back slightly.
"You don't have to install it."
He placed the glove on the table.
"But the Scavengers won't fight fair."
He walked around Bain slowly.
"They ambush."
"They kidnap."
"They dismantle people alive."
Arthur's voice remained steady.
"If one of them gets within arm's reach of you… this ends it instantly."
He paused.
"Your choice."
Bain stared at the glove.
Rusty.
Ugly.
Terrifying.
Then he clenched his jaw.
"Install it."
Arthur nodded once.
"Good."
He prepared the operating table.
Sterilized instruments.
Connected power supply.
Mechanical Truth guided his hands effortlessly.
As Bain lay down, he asked quietly,
"Brother Arthur… will we really become famous?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
He focused on aligning neural connectors.
Wires slid into place.
Metal fused to flesh.
Then he spoke.
"Fame is loud."
"Power is silent."
He secured the glove to Bain's prosthetic interface.
"But survival?" he said softly.
"That comes first."
He activated the system.
The glove hummed faintly.
Five barrels adjusted microscopically.
Bain flexed his fingers.
The glove responded instantly.
Arthur stepped back.
"Try it."
Bain aimed at a reinforced metal plate Arthur had placed against the wall.
He hesitated.
Then—
BOOM.
The blast echoed through the workshop.
The plate shattered inward.
Fragments embedded deep into the concrete behind it.
Silence followed.
Bain stared at his hand in disbelief.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Close-range dominance," he said.
"Welcome to the next stage."
Outside, Night City continued to glow.
Unaware.
But somewhere in its dark corners—
The balance had shifted.