Led by Kenichiro, Karl approached the large estate he had visited once before. But even before he stepped through the threshold, he could fe
Led by Kenichiro, Karl approached the large estate he had visited once before. But even before he stepped through the threshold, he could feel it—someone was watching him. Intently.
Where was it coming from?
Following the unsettling sensation, Karl's gaze shifted toward the left side of the mansion. There, he saw a figure—a man fully encased in sleek, metallic plating—staring directly at him.
Armor? Karl wondered.
Armor like that wasn't something you saw every day.
But almost immediately, he realized his assumption was off.
Karl raised an eyebrow and looked more carefully. The streamlined plating wasn't armor—it had muscle contours and a cold, metallic sheen. It wasn't protective gear. It was cyberware, masterfully integrated. A full-body chrome shell that mimicked human musculature: metallic skin.
As he focused, Karl saw that the figure stood at least two meters tall, with a hulking build. His face was hidden behind a demonic oni-style mask, and through the narrow slits in it, two blood-red eyes glowed ominously.
Their eyes met. That stare was razor sharp—like a knife piercing straight through the air, stabbing directly into Karl's own gaze.
Unwilling to engage further, Karl looked away and scanned the rest of the man's body. He spotted a distinct bulge along the forearm—based on experience, he recognized the telltale housing of Mantis Blades. His eyes dropped further, noting a semi-elliptical protrusion at the knees—Lynx Paws, leg cyberware modeled after felines that allowed for near-silent movement.
Mantis Blades. Lynx Paws. Full-body metallic muscle mods...
A cyborg?
The term had evolved. Originally, "cyborg" referred to any human enhanced with cybernetic components. But in the modern era—when minor cyberware was as common as tattoos—the word had taken on a much more specific meaning.
Now, "cyborg" referred to those who had undergone total borgification: full-body weaponized cybernetic conversion. These weren't just people with implants—these were chrome-skinned war machines.
By 2076, fully converted bodies weren't exactly rare. Even celebs like Lizzy Wiz had gone full cyber. But there was a difference between someone like Lizzy—an enhanced performer—and someone like Adam Smasher, whose every inch of body was built for destruction.
Lizzy could be taken down by any seasoned merc on the street. Smasher? If you survived ten seconds with him in combat, you'd already be a legend.
The figure Karl was staring at now? Absolutely the latter kind.
Mantis Blades. Lynx Paws. Chrome muscle built for the shadows of Night City.
A ninja? Karl wondered.
This classic combination was unmistakable. In Karl's mind, only Arasaka's black ops ninjas would be equipped like that.
While Karl was still studying the figure, Kenichiro—having noticed he had stopped—turned to follow his line of sight. His first instinct was to explain, to introduce the figure.
But then he remembered: he'd just sworn not to talk to Karl anymore.
So he held his tongue.
Someone else stepped in instead.
"Well, well... Taking time to eyeball the guards before even saying hello? You must be feeling real relaxed, kid."
The words were familiar, but the voice… wasn't.
Karl turned, and standing at the mansion's front entrance was a middle-aged man with slicked-back black hair in a pompador. He was staring at Karl with a gaze full of menace—violent, threatening, and all too familiar.
Karl blinked. His heart skipped.
"…Adam Smasher?!"
The appearance was almost unrecognizable. No cold metal skin, no towering frame, no weaponized cyberarms. Just a handsome, flesh-and-blood man.
Yet, despite the change, the aura—the suffocating arrogance and brutality—was exactly the same.
Adam Smasher. A man who had once been nothing but a brain in a tank of chrome. Now, here he was, appearing in a completely biological body.
Karl's instincts screamed, but the words tumbled out on their own.
"You actually recognized me like this? Not bad. Sharper than I gave you credit for," Smasher replied, a glint of amusement in his voice.
This was Smasher without his Dragoon-class cyberbody, no full metal conversion—just human skin and blood. Still, that same oppressive presence lingered like a shadow that couldn't be washed away.
Karl, of course, shifted his attention fully to Smasher, but the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable he became.
He was used to the metal monster. This… pretty-boy middle-aged version?
Disgusting.
"You swap to that meat-suit because you pissed yourself last time, and figured it's easier to clean?"
Karl didn't hold back. He repeated the exact insult he'd once thrown at Smasher back in the Arasaka cleanup op, inside the elevator.
Smasher's brow twitched. The danger in his eyes returned like a flame reigniting.
"You think trashing one of my auxiliary frames while I was distracted gives you the right to run your mouth?"
"I don't know if it gives me the right," Karl replied calmly, "but if you're looking for a fight, Adam Smasher, you're gonna need to climb back into a real body. 'Cause in that biotech suit—or whatever soft-shell bullshit you're wearing—you're not winning anything."
It wasn't mockery. Karl meant it. Even if Smasher's instincts and experience still made him formidable, in this condition, he was a threat only to average mercs or cyberpsychos.
Against Karl?
Not a chance.
"You little punk..."
Smasher knew it too. But he refused to back down.
The tension between them crackled like a live wire. It was just a matter of seconds before things exploded.
But at that moment, the mansion doors opened from within.
Chiyome stepped out.
She scanned everyone with a neutral gaze, then gave a small nod.
"Please, come in. Lady Michiko and Miss Hanako are waiting for you."
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