The cat stayed nearby, half-awake, listening to the quiet city.
Max sat still. His cigarette smoke faded into the fog. Everything felt calm, like the city was resting.
A radio turned on somewhere down the street. The sound was rough at first, then a soft old song started playing. A few people stopped to listen. Nobody talked.
Max watched them. They didn't need leaders or heroes anymore. They just needed a chance to live normally.
He finished his cigarette and threw it into a puddle. It sizzled out.
The cat looked up for a moment, then went back to sleep.
Mary didn't speak again. The static was gone. The line was quiet.
Max stood up. His coat was wet and heavy, but he didn't care. He looked toward the edge of the city where the neon lights faded into empty land.
He began walking. Slowly. No plan, no goal.
Behind him, people were rebuilding and moving on with their lives.
For the first time in years, Night City didn't need saving.
And Max didn't need to stay.
The fog began to lift, and the sky got brighter.
When he reached the road leading out of the city, the only sound was the wind moving through broken wires.
He stopped and looked back one last time. The skyline was damaged but still glowing. Then he turned away.
The cat watched him for a while, then disappeared into the ruins.
Max kept walking until the city was just a dim light behind him.
No more voices. No more ghosts.
Only the road ahead, and silence.
The road stretched out for miles, cracked and empty. Old signs leaned against the wind, pointing to places that no longer existed.
Max walked without hurry. His boots crunched over gravel and glass. Every now and then, he saw the shell of a burned-out car or a broken drone half-buried in dust.
The world outside the city was quiet — too quiet. No noise, no neon, no hum of machines. Just open space.
After a while, the clouds began to break. A pale sun pushed through, turning the wet road silver.
Max stopped to take it in. It had been years since he'd seen sunlight without smoke or sirens in the background.
He reached into his coat, found a small chip — Mary's last data shard. The metal was scratched, edges burned. He turned it over in his hand, unsure why he still carried it. Habit, maybe. Or something close to memory.
He slid it back into his pocket and kept walking.
Hours passed. A sign appeared on the roadside — faded letters barely visible: "New Harbor – 72 km."
A place he'd heard of once. Small, quiet, far from Night City's reach. Maybe that was enough.
He walked toward it.
As the sun began to set, the sky turned orange, and the wind carried the faint smell of the ocean — salt and metal.
For the first time in a long while, Max felt something close to peace. Not hope, not joy — just calm.
He followed the road until the pavement broke into dirt and the dirt turned to sand. The sound of the waves grew stronger with each step — rough, steady, alive.
The ocean stretched out ahead, endless and gray, catching the last light of the day. Old ships sat rusting near the shore, their hulls half sunk into the tide.
Max stopped at the edge of the water. The wind pulled at his coat. For a long moment, he just stood there, watching the sea move — slow, powerful, uncaring.
He dropped his bag on the sand and sat down beside it. The ground was cold, but the sound of the waves was steady, almost comforting.
Far down the coast, he saw lights — small, warm, flickering. New Harbor, maybe. Or just another camp trying to survive.
The sound of the waves filled the silence, steady and deep. For once, Max didn't think about what came next. No plans, no missions, no noise — just the pull of the tide and the chill of the night air against his skin.
He must've drifted off for a while. When he opened his eyes again, the stars were brighter, scattered across the dark sky like fragments of glass. The ocean shimmered faintly under their light.
He sat up slowly, brushing sand from his coat. The horizon was quiet, endless. Somewhere out there, cities were still burning, people were still fighting — but not here.
Here, the world felt… untouched.
He glanced toward the faint glow of New Harbor again. It was closer now, or maybe the night made the lights seem stronger. He could almost hear faint music — or maybe just the wind playing tricks.
Max got to his feet, stretching. "Alright," he muttered to himself, voice rough but calm. "One more sunrise, then I'll see what's left."
He took one last look at the stars before turning toward the lights. His boots sank slightly into the wet sand as he started walking again, slow and steady.
The sea moved beside him, matching his pace — an old rhythm that didn't care about history or ghosts.
By the time he reached the edge of the dunes, the first light of dawn touched the water. It painted the world in gold and gray.
Max stopped there, watching the sunrise break over the waves.
"Yeah," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Another world done."
The wind shifted. For a second, Max thought it was just the morning breeze coming off the sea.
But then the sound changed — a low hum under the surface of reality. The air around him shimmered faintly, like heat rising off metal.
He exhaled slowly. "Guess break time's over."
Light folded around him — white, sharp, soundless. The beach vanished.
When it cleared, Max was standing on cracked pavement again — not the roads of Night City, but something else. The air smelled different: oil, smoke, and ozone, but cleaner, stronger. He knew this place.
The Marvel world.
He looked down at his hand — still metal, still his — and clenched it once. The system had brought him back.
"Welcome back," a familiar voice said.
***
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It's 22 chaps ahead