"You guys surely dare to use those."
The resident who followed into Dog Town marveled at the Wildman, socialite, and several players lying on the operating table who had used illegal or oversized cybernetic implants.
The Wildman wasn't too bad—just had high blood pressure from the engine causing several cybernetic circulation pipelines throughout his body to burst, a bit of maintenance and it would be fine.
But the shards of Masked Rider's thigh prosthesis were embedded in the pelvis, and the socialite's brain nerves were eroded, leading to facial nerve paralysis—she was just a step away from dementia.
"That's the cost of those numbers."
Masked Rider waved dismissively.
"Wasn't there always that super mode in novels and anime where you burn your life for power? What's so hard to understand?"
"If I backed down in the face of fate, why would I be called Masked Rider?"
