"Japan couldn't even hold out for two hours?"
Lucy, who was half Japanese, couldn't help but sneer. "What a fucking disgrace."
"This one really isn't Japan's fault," someone explained. "After someone caused a massive upheaval, Arasaka collapsed. The megacorps rushed in to carve up the market, and Japan descended into chaos—almost back to the Warring States era. When the Rogue AIs launched their sudden offensive, the Japanese government simply couldn't organize an effective counterattack."
A familiar voice came through the comms, making Sasha cry out in surprise:
"Stout?!"
A holographic image appeared on the screen: a tall blonde woman with slicked-back hair. Meredith Stout bit down on a cigarette and greeted them casually.
"Hey, Sasha. Hey, everyone. Long time no see."
"Reunions can wait," Reed cut in calmly. "Madam President, since you're showing up at a time like this, I assume you already have a plan?"
"I do." Meredith shrugged. "V left me a chip. Told me to keep an eye on the Blackwall and stay alert for Rogue AI incursions. Kang Tao had the same arrangement—V left a chip with Xu Shiming, told him to watch the Busan vector. That's how China managed to respond so fast."
"So the old man got one too?"
Xu Ling stroked her chin. "Sis V handing out secret manuals like some old granny in a ring, huh? What, picking disciples? Then why didn't I get a chip? I'm smart as hell!"
Alex, who did receive a chip, looked smug and shot her a grin.
"Probably because you're allergic to alcohol."
Xu Ling exploded, jumping to her feet, loudly reiterating that she wasn't allergic—she just hadn't trained her tolerance yet.
Reed pressed a hand down to stop the two from escalating, then turned serious again.
"Madam President, how do you plan to deal with Japan?"
"By tradition." Meredith exhaled a plume of smoke.
"B-7 stealth bombers plus tactical nukes. The classic combo. Don't worry about the success rate—New United States has done this before. Plenty of experience."
"Nukes?!"
Everyone froze. "What about civilians—"
"Necessary sacrifices."
Meredith Stout was a career American soldier. Following V around had given her some conscience—but not much, and mostly reserved for people she knew and Night City. Japan, thousands of kilometers away? Sorry. Not familiar.
Still, she explained:
"I'm not nuking all of Japan. Just several fully automated industrial zones. Japan has the most advanced production lines in the world. If those fall into Rogue AI hands, humanity will get buried under a robot army. And besides—"
She paused. Satellite footage appeared on the holo-screen.
It looked like an ordinary residential district—but armed robots were clearing houses block by block. Bodies were piled together regardless of age or gender, then transported to massive incinerators for centralized disposal.
The room fell silent.
Sasha asked hoarsely, "What… what are they doing? These people already surrendered!"
"Prisoners consume resources," Meredith replied coldly.
"Rogue AIs need land to expand factories and boost output. There's no humanitarian subroutine in those metal heads—just algorithms. If killing prisoners improves efficiency, then efficiency is improved. No hesitation required."
She took a deep drag.
"To defeat something without a heart, you have to give up your own. I'll do the dirty work. After we win, rebuilding the world should be left to people who still have one."
Three hours after Japan fell, the New United States launched large-scale nuclear strikes, destroying Japan's industrial system and completely shattering the Rogue AIs' plan to use Japan as a logistics hub.
Seeing the shift, Alt immediately adjusted tactics, reviving the plan to seize the Korean Peninsula.
The robot legions advanced, clashing head-on with Kang Tao's forces. After more than a month of brutal stalemate, Kang Tao held the line—but at catastrophic cost.
Xu Shiming appealed to other megacorps for aid.
They refused.
Declaring the situation hopeless, the corporate elites redirected all remaining resources into starship construction. At humanity's darkest hour, carrying the most critical materials and technology, they fled Earth for Mars.
The ships lifted off over the Himalayas, trailing long plumes of fire. Each was only half the size of a city—yet carried away the hope of the entire world.
The robot army detected no threat and remained indifferent.
The Human Supreme Council saw the corps flee and believed victory was near, celebrating wildly.
Those who still believed in humanity's ultimate triumph fell into utter despair.
"Such children are unfit to conspire with," Xu Shiming spat.
He could have left—but he didn't.
Not out of patriotism. He was never a loyalist. He loved his family more than his country.
He stayed because he couldn't afford the shame—couldn't face his ancestors after death.
So—
He scooped soil, burned it as incense, and cried out:
"Ancestors above, invaders come from the east. Your unworthy descendant rages against them, yet the enemy is vast and strength insufficient. Only death remains—let jade and stone burn together!"
Behind him, tens of thousands of soldiers roared in unison:
"Fight to the death! Let jade and stone burn together!"
From that moment on, Kang Tao's army never retreated another step. Those young men became martyrs.
Xu Shiming's stand galvanized morale. Humanity's forces locked the AI army onto the Korean Peninsula.
People began to see Xu Shiming as humanity's greatest hope. After all—the gods of Earth had fled. The only god still fighting for humanity… was him.
"I predicted humanity's leaders would flee," Alt mused.
"But I didn't predict Xu Shiming staying. His past behavior never suggested this kind of nobility. Humans are… difficult to calculate."
Lancelot lounged atop a pile of cash, yawning.
"So. What now?"
"Humans are unpredictable—and fragile."
Alt issued commands without emotion.
"Your turn, Lancelot. Kill Xu Shiming."
Shenyang. Kang Tao Tower.
Corpses littered the building.
At the top floor, Xu Shiming's guards were annihilated. His legs had been torn off. Blood soaked the wall he leaned against.
"You thought hidden guards could kill me?" Lancelot dragged over a chair and sat down, amused.
"In absolute power, all schemes are meaningless. So, old man—any last words?"
Xu Shiming said nothing. He pulled out a detonator.
Lancelot's face went white.
Too late.
"From today on," Xu Shiming roared,
"my family register gets its own page!"
The explosion engulfed Kang Tao Tower in a massive fireball.
At the same time, countless mushroom clouds bloomed over the Korean Peninsula like burning suns.
The robot army and Rogue AIs were devastated, forced to halt expansion and enter recovery mode.
When the news reached Night City, everyone turned to Xu Ling.
She showed no grief.
She tied her messy hair into a ponytail with a simple rubber band—shedding the last traces of childhood.
"I'm returning to Kang Tao. I'll handle the AI army. As long as I live, those tin cans won't take one step beyond the peninsula."
She turned and left—without hesitation.
Everyone knew.
So did she.
This was a path of near-certain death.
Everyone believed the Asian defense line would inevitably collapse.
Xu Shiming was dead.
The other megacorp executives had fled.
Yet Xu Ling, relying purely on her extraordinary military talent, held the line—again and again repelling the AI offensives.
Even as the Rogue AIs continuously generated analytical models of Xu Ling's thinking patterns, she always devised new tactics at the very moment they believed victory was assured.
In the end, even Alt had to admit it.
Xu Ling's rate of growth exceeded that of the AIs themselves.
For the first time, a computer lost to the human brain.
But it didn't matter.
A genius like Xu Ling appeared only once every few thousand years—and only in the military domain.
An AI, however, was omnidirectional.
If military superiority couldn't eliminate her, then she would be destroyed from other angles.
Still—
Alt glanced at the nutrient tank.
More precisely, at three-quarters of Lancelot's remaining head.
Thanks to nanomachines maintaining neural bioelectric activity, Lancelot's brain cells were still alive. Otherwise, Xu Shiming would have actually killed him.
Even as a purely logical AI, Alt couldn't help but sigh.
A guaranteed victory had turned into this mess.
This Lancelot really was useless beyond saving.
But one fights through the messes one creates.
Alt had chosen Lancelot as a puppet solely for the mass driver. The strategic objective had already been achieved—any remaining flaws would simply have to be patched.
"Damn Xu Shiming. Damn that old bastard!"
Lancelot raged helplessly, then screamed at Alt.
"Didn't you say I was guaranteed to win?! Didn't you say I had V's combat skills?!"
Alt replied flatly:
"First—V doesn't talk this much when she kills."
"..."
"Second—you only obtained part of V's combat experience."
"Then mobilize the army!" Lancelot howled.
"Destroy Kang Tao! Destroy Night City! Destroy the entire world! I want all of V's combat data! I want to become the true strongest!"
"You will," Alt answered.
"But before that, you must repair your body."
Another half year passed.
The war crystallized into two distinct fronts.
One was the Asian theater—where Xu Ling alone held back the AI legions.
The other encompassed the rest of the world: Europe, the Americas, Africa, Oceania.
Outside Asia, the Human Supreme Council was locked in brutal combat with local armed forces. With the megacorps gone, humanity had lost centralized coordination. The war was grinding, chaotic, and devastating.
Those who once fantasized about a world without corporations never imagined it could be this bad.
Johnny Silverhand traveled with a convoy through the ruins of cities. His current job was using music to inspire people—and he was damn good at it.
His song "Eternal Loneliness" became wildly popular, even more so than during his Samurai days.
Yet he would rather go back to hitting walls, to a world where people drowned themselves in meaningless entertainment—
Because the present world was unbearable.
Even worse than the era of corporations.
People lived in constant fear. No one knew if they'd see tomorrow's sun.
Religious fanatics roamed everywhere. Zealots could strap bombs to themselves and charge into crowds at any moment.
The Human Supreme Council had toppled the corporations, dismantled the system—accomplishing what Johnny never managed in his lifetime.
But the outcome was nothing like what he had imagined.
"Never destroy the old order before building a new one," Johnny muttered.
"V… I finally get what you meant. So where the fuck did you die, anyway?"
Where was V?
J was asking the same question.
Wrapped in heavy cold-weather gear, she trudged across the Antarctic ice sheet.
Sasha and the others were coordinating support for global battlefields. NetWatch's elite hackers worked day and night repairing the Blackwall.
As a NetWatch director who rose through connections rather than raw skill, J took on the task of finding V.
A blizzard rose.
J lost her bearings.
Just as she thought she was about to die in this wasteland—
A penguin appeared in front of her.
Its beak split open vertically.
With a clack-clack of shifting parts, mechanical structures were revealed inside.
J nearly died of fright.
She fumbled for her gun, preparing to shoot the Rogue-AI-controlled combat penguin—
When it suddenly spoke.
"Are you looking for V? Follow me."
The penguin waddled forward.
J hesitated for a few seconds, then clenched her teeth and followed.
It could be a trap.
She chose to gamble anyway.
She won.
The penguin led her to V.
This place was a bar on the Antarctic continent.
Fully furnished—bar counter, booths—yet completely empty.
In the underground wine cellar, J saw V.
She was bound in the corner, wrapped in layers of iron chains.
J rushed forward, trying to undo the restraints while shouting furiously:
"You imprisoned her here?! You evil penguin!"
The penguin sounded aggrieved.
"I didn't bind her. V bound herself."
"Is she insane?! Why would she do that?"
"She was afraid that under the control of another version of herself, she might hurt her friends."
J froze.
"Another… herself? What does that mean?"
"This is how it happened," the penguin began.
"That day, I was alone on the smooth white ice, observing distant penguin colonies. The wind was strong—maybe force five, maybe six—mixed with snow, like invisible blades—"
J rolled her eyes hard.
"All AIs really have the same problem," she snapped.
"Cut the meaningless descriptions. Just the point."
The penguin's electronic eyes flickered.
"Understood. The point: three months ago, I found V drifting in seawater. I took her in. She regained consciousness briefly—and chained herself here."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"How did she get from Night City to Antarctica?"
"I don't know."
"How did she fall into the ocean?"
"I don't know."
"What exactly is she running from?"
"I don't know."
J exploded.
"Then what the hell do you know?!"
The penguin thought seriously.
"I don't know what I know. I simply observe penguins, day after day."
J's mouth twitched.
She couldn't help but think: somewhere in Asia, terrifying AIs were trying to wipe out humanity—while in Antarctica, there was an idiot AI whose only job was watching penguins.
Same AI. Vastly different results.
Then J suddenly remembered something.
"You said V chained herself here three months ago—what has she been eating?"
"Why would she need to eat?" The penguin tilted its head.
"Her nanofabricated skin absorbs energy directly from sunlight to power the body. She has no need for food."
"That's ridiculous," J muttered.
"You make her sound like a machine."
The penguin nodded.
"V is a machine."
J froze.
Then screamed:
"What did you say?!"
The penguin covered its ears and shouted back at equal volume:
"I said—V IS A MACHINE!!!"
J staggered backward, furious.
"Why are you yelling so loud?!"
"Ah? You were the one who started—"
"Enough!" J waved her hand.
"Is V really a robot?"
"Yes—but not a traditional one. She contains two execution systems. Her body is composed of a special class of nanomachines capable of adaptive restructuring, granting fault tolerance far beyond conventional machinery."
"But her neural system was still designed according to human standards—primitive, inefficient. It cannot fully utilize the body's potential."
J swallowed.
Logic told her the more she knew, the sooner she'd die.
Emotion forced her to ask anyway.
"If she wanted full access to that potential?"
"Then the neural system must be modified—completely dismantled and rebuilt," the penguin answered.
"At present, her internal nanomachines are already performing this task."
"So that's why her nervous system looks… massively atrophied?"
"Atrophied?" The penguin considered it.
"Yes. That description is accurate—for now. Over time, the nanomachines will construct the most perfect neural system possible for V."
"How long?"
"At the current rate," the penguin calculated,
"one year and two months."
J tried to imagine how terrifying V would be one year later—
and realized she couldn't.
A severely damaged V could already tear through cloud layers with her own body.
A peak-condition V would probably punch a hole straight through the sky.
If there was anyone capable of defeating the AI legions and restoring human order, it could only be V.
Still, J hesitated.
The penguin had said it clearly—V was a machine. Possibly even an AI.
An AI fighting AIs to protect humanity… was that really possible?
J thought for a moment.
Then decided to gamble again.
She didn't have a better option anyway.
J gently patted V's cheek and whispered her name.
"V?"
V's head hung low. No response.
J lifted V's chin.
V's eyes were open—both glowing blue, flickering constantly.
As a hacker, J recognized the state instantly.
"She's deep-diving?" J asked in shock.
"Where's the interface cable?"
"No cable is required."
"Why not?"
"Because her deep-dive target is not cyberspace."
"Then where the hell is she diving?!"
"I don't know."
J stared at the penguin.
The penguin tilted its head.
"Goo-goo gaa-gaa?"
"I won't give up," J muttered to herself.
She first informed Sasha that V had been found—though her condition was complicated, and they shouldn't worry for now.
Then J devoted herself fully to talking to V.
That the world still needed her.
That she had to pull herself together.
That no one blamed her.
Over and over.
Three to five days passed.
No improvement.
Even J couldn't help but sigh in frustration.
"V… what are you doing in there?"
V was staring blankly inside a simulated sandbox world.
She was afraid.
Afraid that one careless action would allow a bio-theoretical AI to conquer the world.
Afraid she would once again lose control and hurt the people around her.
That was why she had left chips behind—to warn others.
Why she didn't dare act personally.
What she feared most, however, was a life already written in advance.
V sat on the rooftop of a skyscraper, watching the virtual sun rise and set.
People went to work by day, returned home by night.
She felt the breath of nature, tasted the lights of human life.
One day, she suddenly asked:
"If the people in this world knew they were virtual… how would they feel?"
A gigantic jellyfish replied:
"Want to know? Then take a look at this."
A novel app appeared on V's phone.
On the bookshelf—only one book.
2077: V Back
V looked up at the massive jellyfish in silence.
"I am you, and you are me," the jellyfish explained.
"What you're curious about, I'm curious about too. So I adjusted some world parameters and had a washed-up web novelist write this—through borrowed hands."
V opened the book.
It was her story.
The first half was classic power fantasy. Readers praised it nonstop—some even claimed the author had to be a native of Night City. Others suspected shady dealings with content moderators, since the book somehow hadn't been censored.
The jellyfish interjected:
"It was supposed to be censored. I intervened."
V was speechless at the creature's bad taste and continued reading.
The story took a sharp turn when "the truth" was revealed.
When the virtual sandbox world appeared in the novel, readers were shocked by the author's audacity—but most assumed it was just a narrative device.
Comments poured in: curious, joking, indifferent.
V was surprised.
These NPCs didn't collapse upon learning they were virtual.
They didn't even truly accept it.
They treated it as a joke.
Why?
What made these NPCs so certain of their own reality?
What was it that convinced them they were real?
V had only intended to pass the time.
Now, she was genuinely intrigued.
She kept reading.