When Sandevistan time activated, the world froze.
Bullets stopped midair, fire hung motionless in the dark sky, and the echoes of battle stretched into silence.
In that fractured stillness, David Martinez moved like a phantom between ghosts.
One breath.
One flash of steel.
He appeared behind three Night Wraiths who'd come running toward the noise. Their heads snapped forward slightly as red lines blossomed across their throats. The world resumed, and by the time their bodies hit the dirt, David was already gone.
Sandevistan time ended.
Their lives ended with it.
David exhaled slowly. Activating Sandevistan no longer tore through his body like it once had. The crushing headaches, the blood pressure spikes—gone. His body had adapted, sculpted through endless training and Viktor's custom inhibitors and nutrient schedule.
The doc had called it "the 7-5-3 method"—seven days of mild use, five of recovery, three of heavy push. Combine that with constant physical grind and mental conditioning, and the body stopped breaking. It started evolving.
David was proof of that evolution.
"Feels good," he murmured, flicking blood from his blade. "But I can't get sloppy."
Every breath mattered. Every second of focus kept the team alive.
He had to keep cutting, faster and cleaner—hunt the enemy's snipers, netrunners, the hidden threats.
Because in this city, only the strong get to protect anyone.
...
The battle at Rocky Ridge had turned from an ambush into a siege.
The Night Wraiths were bleeding, but they weren't broken. For every one that fell, three more pushed through.
You didn't survive the Badlands this long without learning how to fight dirty.
On top of a crate overlooking the street, a flicker of static shimmered into form.
Johnny Silverhand.
No footsteps. No breath. Just data, manifesting out of nothing.
He looked down at the chaos below, eyes glinting with amusement. "Guess it's my cue."
A pulse of code rippled from his hands.
And from the shadows, the janitors woke up.
Broken maintenance bots, forgotten service drones, half-crushed cleaning machines—all relics from 2030—suddenly powered on, blue optics flashing. The Night Wraiths barely had time to react before a swarm of chrome limbs and whirring saws surged out from the alleys.
"What the hell—?!"
One raider blasted a robot apart, only to realize what it was.
"A cleaning bot?! You gotta be kidding—"
He never finished. A vacuum unit lunged, coiling its hose around his neck and twisting until bone cracked.
"Where the hell's our netrunner?! Shut these things down!"
"Where's the ICE-breaker—someone trace the signal!"
"Why the fuck are appliances killing us?!"
Panic spread like wildfire.
One by one, they tried to fight back, but for every machine they destroyed, three more crawled out from basements and wreckage.
The dead town had become their tomb.
Johnny's laughter echoed faintly through the static. "Idiots. 2077, huh? Fourth-gen cyberware, military-grade suppressants, and you still fight like spineless corpo drones."
He scoffed. "Back in my day, we didn't need chrome to grow a pair. We charged Arasaka Tower with nukes and attitude."
He looked down again at the flailing Wraiths, face twisting into a grin. "Half a century later, and you've all gotten soft."
"Who the hell are you?!" a Wraith shouted, spinning and firing a burst at him.
The bullets tore through Johnny's projection harmlessly.
He smirked.
"What are you, man?!" the raider stammered, stepping back.
Johnny spat digital static on the ground. "God, even your lines suck. Fine. I'll just kill you all myself."
A wrecked car suddenly roared to life behind him, engine screaming. It launched forward, headlights blazing, and plowed through a group of Wraiths, crushing them like insects before exploding in a burst of flame.
Johnny didn't even look back. "Maybe the next batch'll have better dialogue."
And with that, he vanished into the noise.
...
By the power station, Neo waited patiently. The battle had dragged on long enough for him to grow restless—and he wasn't disappointed.
A pack of Night Wraiths had finally broken through the town's defenses, sprinting toward the power grid with murder in their eyes.
When they spotted Neo and Lucy, rage replaced fear.
"There! The netrunner!"
"Kill the hacker bitch!"
"They're the ones screwing with our power! And those damn murder-bots!"
"Kill 'em both!"
The air filled with gunfire. Dozens of rounds spat from muzzles, streaking through the night toward the two figures by the station.
Neo didn't move. Not at first.
Then, as the bullets closed in—he moved like smoke.
One instant he was standing still, the next he was gone, wrapping an arm around Lucy's waist and pulling her close as the storm of lead carved through where they'd stood.
The wind from the bullets brushed their hair as they reappeared several meters away.
"Lucy," Neo said softly, smiling, "pick one. Pull it for me."
Her heart skipped. "What?"
"Pick a sword," he repeated, tilting his waist toward her.
Lucy's pale fingers brushed the hilts of his blades. The faint hum of energy answered her touch.
She hesitated only for a second—then drew one free.
Shuush!
Shusui.
The cursed black katana hissed as it left its sheath, its blade gleaming like obsidian lightning.
Neo took it from her hands, his grin sharpening. "A fine choice."
The Wraiths charged, shouting.
Neo swung once.
An invisible arc cleaved through the air—silent, colorless, faster than sight. The wave hit like a stormfront.
Bodies flew backward. Limbs scattered. Screams tore through the dark.
One slash.
Two.
Three.
Each strike was effortless, beautiful, almost poetic—death wrapped in grace.
And all the while, he still held Lucy close against him.
"Showoff," she muttered under her breath, though her cheeks burned.
Then—
The air shimmered behind them.
A blur.
A human figure moving at impossible speed—time itself bending around him.
Sandevistan.
Neo felt it before he saw it. The world slowed again, his instincts flaring. The attacker's blade drew close, humming with lethal intent.
The Night Wraith leader, James, had finally arrived. His chrome eyes burned crimson, his grin feral.
Got you, he thought.
But before his strike could land—Neo turned.
Effortless. Instantaneous.
Their eyes met in frozen time. Neo's smile was calm. "Your Sandevistan's sloppy," he said softly. "Even David moves better than you."
The world trembled.
And the true fight began.
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