K and the two Flea-class drones scouted ahead under optical camouflage, while Li Pan followed at a steady pace behind, serving as the drone operator. His job was to control the drones, quantify environmental data, and feed K real-time battlefield analysis—so she could focus fully on combat if it came.
There was no Net signal underground, and K, being far more versed in gunfighting than drone piloting, needed Li Pan—an engineering sapper trained in UAV ops—close by to maintain line-of-sight comms with the Fleas.
In truth, an ideal tactical unit would also have a hacker on hand for counter-electronic warfare. But good hackers were rare. As much of a brat as Eighteen was, she was a precious resource. Running this mission over encrypted channels without her made Li Pan uneasy.
Fortunately, the Flea drones had top-tier military ECCM and ICE defense suites. Li Pan didn't have to worry about sewer-dwelling werewolves hacking them and frying his brain by proxy.
Still, hacking was his weakest point. The Red Tengu hacker had nearly killed him. He needed an upgrade—new ICE, new firewall software. Trouble was, HT ChaosTech's security service cost nearly 200k a month, and still wasn't as effective as Eighteen's support. Utterly overpriced junk…
"K, I've traced werewolf genetic markers—sending you pings now."
"Received."
The mission was straightforward: follow standard academy training. Reconnoiter with drones, infiltrate, confirm, fire. Whether werewolves, Red Tengu, or any other targets, the procedure was the same: locate, lock, confirm, engage.
In most cases, engineers weren't supposed to march with squads. One engineer could maintain the drones of an entire company, even a composite battalion.
But sappers weren't marines. They weren't covered in combat-grade implants or emergency medpacks. Instead, they lugged around engineering kits and spare parts, their massive signal signatures making them priority targets.
High-tech maintenance required education and skill, yet pay was abysmal. No sapper had ever been promoted into officer ranks. The best technicians died sergeants, bound to the army till their last breath. Most fled service to work as civilian engineers—factories might be hell, but at least they paid overtime.
Such was the life of a mechanic: bitter, overworked, and broke.
"Li, any live werewolf signals?"
Li Pan checked his drone feed, generating a 3D terrain map for K.
"This is their main nest. Heavy DNA traces, over twenty individuals. But… no current activity beyond roaches and rats."
"Twenty?!" K was startled. "That many? Where did they all go?"
Li Pan scanned the exits. "Out hunting? Or was the nest abandoned?"
"No… not likely…"
She hadn't expected an empty den. By all logic, with the chaos above—Sky City crashing, Security Bureau, Night Corp, Cerberus, NCPA swarming after Red Tengu—the wolves should have stayed put, not wandered off. Yet the nest was deserted.
"Expand the search radius?" Li Pan suggested. "Track bio-trails and pursue? Or hold position?"
K thought, then stuck to her plan.
"This is their primary lair. They'll be back. We wait."
Li Pan shrugged. She was the werewolf hunter, not him. He trusted her call, and set the drones to ambush positions.
But the unexpected always happens. They waited all night. Nothing. Dawn approached.
K finally broke the silence. "Withdraw."
"What, already? Shouldn't we stake out three days at least? It's fine—I won't lose much pay."
He wasn't joking. In the military, lying in wait for days in jungles, swamps, or frozen wastes was common.
K shook her head.
"No. This isn't the first time. I'm being watched. Someone inside Night Corp is feeding intel to the wolves. That's why I only brought you. And yet they still slipped away.
This time, fewer than ten people knew I'd requisitioned Fleas. All with high clearance. If even among them there are infiltrators… that's bigger than I can handle."
Li Pan thought.
"Then stop showing up in person. Next time you find a nest, just send me coordinates. I'll bring one in for you."
"…That might be the only way. I'll stash these two Fleas in the garage. When you need fire support, requisition them."
"Got it."
She had little choice. There were too few Night Knights, and too many enemies. Every merc, spy, hacker, and broker in the city was watching her. Secrecy was impossible.
They hadn't fired a shot, but that was normal. Hunters went home empty; anglers caught nothing but weeds. This was just… a sewer date with K.
Still, she wired him ¥700,000. Her wages had just come in, and she paid the outstanding balance on the refrigerated blood order.
Team shares ran through Panlong's accounts for tax shielding. Li Pan's personal account now held ¥2.4 million. Time to hit the cyberware market—slot that anti-gravity spine.
He'd learned the value of body armor. Ten grand per life, worth it. Maybe spring for optical camouflage next.
As they headed back, he asked K for recommendations.
To his surprise, she cautioned against more implants.
"When I first met you, you had almost no augmentations. In just two months you've gone under the knife too many times. You're not worried about cyberpsychosis?
If you need to boost readiness, I suggest commissioning SBS combat armor. Or buy a dedicated battle husk. At least it won't fry your brain.
Also, L mentioned Panlong was commended after Sky City. If you want, I could help you apply for a vampiric body."
That caught Li Pan off guard.
"A Night Knight body? Like yours? Wait—you're offering to turn me?"
K shook her head.
"Of course not. Ancilla blood knight combat shells are imported, gene-tailored for each knight.
The Fledgling Embrace—the true conversion—is a genetic initiation. Only Night Corp members, with a Prince's sanction, can receive it. I don't have that privilege yet.
But Night Corp does sell vampiric combat husks. Heard of 'Blood's Woe'?"
Li Pan nodded.
"Oh yeah. The vampiric cyber-psychosis. Victims consumed by foreign memories, losing all self, rampaging as feral blood-beasts. Only the Blood Chalice can cure it."
K narrowed her eyes.
"How do you know that? You looked it up? Impossible—it's not public."
Li Pan coughed.
"Cough, cough… our company has Blood Chalice records."
She eyed him suspiciously, then let it go.
"Anyway. Vampires aren't truly immortal. We replace bodies often.
Those lost to Blood's Woe become feral beasts, converted into weapons. Others—Neonate fledglings losing control, Ancilla wounded or executed, even Elders sealed in political strife—their corpses are recycled.
These husks are sold externally. Buyers are called Anarchs, since they wield the flesh without swearing fealty.
Clean husks are rare. Most are absorbed internally. But with heavy losses against Takamagahara, surplus exists. If lucky, you can pick a specialized combat body.
Sure, Night husks are gene-adjusted, not true vampires. They obey android laws—quarantines, expiry dates, forbidden gene-weapons. But still, far superior to baseline androids.
And within Night domains, you're exempt from import taxes and xenobiotic insurance. Maintenance fees discounted."
"Wow, a vampiric battle husk… sounds good. Price?"
"Depends on lineage and condition. An Ancilla husk, level-five enhanced, should be under ¥20 million.
For a spare body against cyberpsychosis, a Neonate husk—level four—costs around ¥5 million. If you want, I'll take ten percent commission, deduct it from the blood payments. I also have secondhand synthetic blood coffins."
Cheap indeed. Comparable to android shells.
And truth be told, pure humans had reached their evolutionary dead end. War had exterminated elves, beastfolk, insectoids—all "wild mutations." Genetic self-mod programs were sealed by ethics committees. Individual evolution's door slammed shut.
But no matter. Civilization had chosen a path: cyberghosts with synthetic bodies.
There were forks:
Cyber direction: upload consciousness, Ghost-in-Shell style, abandon flesh.
Biological deviation: like his Nine Yin Sutra, mutating into a torch dragon.
Synthetic reincarnation: abandon human bodies for husks.
This was where corporations invested most.
On 0791, mass-produced androids didn't exist. The Oda clan's Demon God project never finished. Takamagahara had pushed implants, cheap cyberware flooding the market, but full husks never stabilized. Incompatibility bred rampant psychosis.
Thus, true synthetic bodies had to be imported—taxed, quarantined, limited lifespan. Only megacorps could afford maintenance.
So if he could get Night Corp insider pricing on husks, it was a windfall. Clearly, Night had lost many recently.
Li Pan struck a deal with K: he'd acquire a vampiric Anarch body. His path was "everything, all at once."
And with Night ruling 0791 now, a vampire husk would grease many wheels.
But using a second body required more gear. Chips, control systems.
For example: the virtual bio-pod. Like a game console. Your original body preserved in LCL fluid, linked to QVN. Remote control of your husk, like a remote car.
Pods cost millions. The micro versions—implants for instant dual control—ran eight digits, taxed 200%. Only Skymen could afford them.
A full pod wouldn't fit in his apartment. But his Northside factory basement could be converted. And as company assets, second bodies were tax-deductible.
Yes. In this era, money was always ready to burn.
When Li Pan finally crawled out of the sewers with K, it was rush hour. A-Qi called:
"Boss, 01044 is here, waiting in your office."
"Oh? And ACA's brat?"
"Training with Rama. Uncle Liu supervising."
"Fine. Let her wait."
"Also, the headmaster of Goche Academy, Security Bureau agents, President of Tōdō Industries, Night Knight Commander Emilius, a Paradise Corp lawyer—they're all queued in the lounge. We're out of coffee. Could you bring some?"
"…The hell? Don't people make appointments anymore?"
"Oh, and a TSC starship salesman, Lady Akiyama of the dojo, and Saitō House's proprietress have also requested visits. When are you free?"
Li Pan cursed. One Sky City raid, one commendation, and suddenly he was the city's hottest commodity.
"Have sales handle it! Tell them I'll follow up, one by one. If they won't wait, send them off. If they will, let them queue."
He sighed. Climbing out of the sewer in camouflage fatigues, reeking of wolf dung and genetic residue, packed into the metro with office drones holding their noses—hardly meeting attire.
His combat suit was still at the cleaners. To save face, he spent ¥15,000 on a cheap business suit and ¥100 on a gym shower. Now he looked like a real-estate salesman.
Still smelled faintly—but it would have to do.
.
.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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