Which one to pick?
For stability, the programmer was safest. For cost-effectiveness, of course the college kid. But if he wanted someone he could "tie off" afterward—and even dump the blame on the NCPA—the private investigator wasn't a bad option either. In the end, Li Pan decided—
"I want all of them. Securing the prize is what matters; cleaning up afterward can wait. Keep all three warm as backups so we've got Plan B and Plan C. But don't pay anyone yet. You finish the doll-protocol first; once the other pieces are in place, we'll choose so nothing leaks. Meanwhile, shadow them quietly."
This was a trillion-credit job; it had to be airtight. No room for tenderheartedness—worst case, kill a few more people and burn a little more paper for them.
Eighteen didn't care. "Okay, boss, but you need to move faster. Those visiting cadres haven't even cleared orbit yet and they're already calling the Great Serpent to survey Night City. They all carry secrecy clearance, so I can't see what they're doing. I did pull their body brands and border-entry avatars, though. So rich…"
She pushed the four 007s' chassis models and customs photos.
Oh. All four had chosen East-Asian male looks: four utterly unremarkable salarymen in suits—perfect to blend into Night City. Professional.
Then Li Pan saw the price tags and just about fell over. All imports. Each one was a walking fortune.
Even without implant specs, the brands alone were absurd.
0674007 and 0544007 were both in AlphaGolem synthetic bodies—AG is VK National Prosthetics' high-end spinoff line aimed at the Level-6 luxury market. Strategy: pack the bleeding-edge tech into AG mannequins first, then waterfall last-gen tech down into VK mid-range to dominate volume even if AG loses some luxury knife-fights.
0544007's AG-S (Sport) and 0674007's AG-RS (Sport-plus-luxury) were both monsters—top of the line, competition-grade superhuman frames.
0213007 wore a Beste Reactorwerke BRW-X chassis. BRW used to be all about SMS mechs—their ace card is micro-reactors and compact power systems. With war over and SMS being decommissioned, they pivoted to synthetics—every body ships with a mini fusion reactor. Ludicrous power and top-tier efficiency: any high-drain weapons module runs flat-out with no brownouts. BRW, like DAWN, goes bespoke luxury; these are Level-6, even Level-7 kits.
081007 ran Build Your Body's dedicated combat line, the "Weiwu Trooper." BYB's the current No. 1 across the heavens: best sales, strongest tech, widest lineup—from cheap Level-3 civvy frames to apex Level-8 monsters. In Plane 0791 they don't ship much (same trouble TSC Tianhan has): their price-performance is too good. Here even VK's "mere" multimillion frames are "Skyfolk-only" labels, and BYB's full stack would crush local low end—so Takamagahara slaps up trade walls and anti-dumping tariffs. Basically only long-standing customers like Monster Company can still source them.
Add up the Big Three luxury makers, plus VK for the mid-range, and these four brands command 80–90% of the synthetic body market across the multiverse.
Bottom line: these four chose top-three luxury models. The base shells alone cost a fortune—never mind bespoke options.
Company travel bodies have reimbursement caps. Standard issue is something like 01044's VK National—two to three million. Even with war funds authorized against the Collector, you don't get over ten million.
But these 007s? They dug into their own pockets and customed up. Just by badges alone they were orange-tier, fully socketed cyborg demigods. Even without "monsters," they could knuckle up against Apostles and demon-gods head-on. On paper they outclassed stuck-at-Third-Turn Li Pan by miles…
Sheesh. First roll and the sliders are all maxed—how exactly are we supposed to keep up with this grind?
Li Pan didn't have time—or patience—to min-max their kits. He just nodded.
"Got it. Let them tear each other apart. The messier the better."
Eighteen: "Also… our black-market funds…"
With a trillion in his head, Li Pan couldn't be bothered with frozen dirty money. "If it's gone, it's gone. Going bust in the market is just a matter of time. Look on the bright side—easy come, easy go. Aqi and Rama bought in too, right? Run it through Panlong; I'll make them whole. Consider it our hacker-ops stipend—I do keep making you dig stuff up."
"Boss! You're the best… could I borrow another million to bottom-fish?"
"…Are you seriously trying to buy the dip now? Don't tilt! There's no bottom—there's always another cliff!"
"Boss! One more shot! Just one! I'm not trying to peacock—but I have to win back what I lost!"
"…."
Well, with a plea like that, what do you say?
Hackers—none of them reliable.
He wired her one more million and went back to studying the Grail.
Because the Grail purges the "Blood Sorrow," princes and elders use it frequently. It wasn't hidden that deep—it's in Cornelius Manor's bunker bath.
Yes: while knights only get one use on promotion, the Council's princes and elders auction off monthly usage internally. Pay up, come to the manor, and enjoy a full blood-bath SPA—vampiric essential oil massage, renew body and soul.
Emiliya even pulled the internal footage. A golden bath hall: at the basin's center, a white marble goddess holds the Holy Grail aloft with a holy sword. The ceiling's obsidian reliefs are snarling blood-beasts; the walls depict the goddess leading paladins against blood demons and beasts.
She explained the story—Night Clan's thousand-year civil war: the Covenant (discipline, contracts, suppress the Blood Sorrow) vs the Demon Faction (embrace nature, indulge slaughter, revel in the Blood Feast). Order over Chaos, Reason over Madness—standard morality play.
Of course the Covenant had to win. With the Companies watching, if the Demon Faction triumphed, one raised hand and—Correction Protocol. No way they'd be here today.
When the cleansing starts, the prince/elder pours treasured bloodwine into the basin; the vintage seeps from the blood-beasts' maws into the Grail, then runs down the goddess's arm to fill the pool.
The bather prostrates at the goddess's feet, pierces their own heart with the holy sword, savors the brink of death, then receives the influx of sanctified fresh blood—finally soaking in the pool to be reborn.
Given the current chaos—elections, Takamagahara, wolves, Monster Company—the service was suspended.
Perfect. If the vampires' attention stayed elsewhere, the ideal script was: stroll in, grab the Grail, stroll out.
Sure, there were high-end defenses along the way. But if Emiliya didn't screw him, the temporary clearance would tag Li Pan as an elder coming to bathe, disabling doors and turrets.
The catch: Emiliya's pass only covered Grail-related wards. Cornelius ran a separate internal security stack. The manor was newly built (twenty years), but it was still a princely seat—an entire clan lived there. The real challenge was slipping in and out unnoticed.
K's route wouldn't work twice. The good news: scouting showed he didn't need to cut through the knights' quarters. If he followed the corridors past the great hall to the inner courtyard ballroom, there was a secret passage to the Grail bath.
So in theory, if he could obtain Neonate-level clearance, the outer warding was solved.
Hmm… either way, he still needed K's Anarch renegade body. Beyond baseline augments, he'd need a full rebuild—grab a Neonate, face-swap, copy permissions. Another million—down the drain.
And Emiliya had to use the Grail herself. After the theft and escape, he'd deliver it to her drop to swap her blood. That phase could go sideways—Night Riders might catch up and seize it. Emiliya might flip. Best to stage a quick-reaction team as a reserve, ready to screen pursuers or ambushes.
Only after the heist (Phase 1) and the blood replacement (Phase 2) would come Phase 3: the formal transaction.
From what he knew, the Company was strictly monster-oriented. If you brought the Grail, money was secondary. Finance squeezed reimbursements everywhere—but for monsters and asset upgrades they'd spend freely. Maybe not the full two trillion, but an 80–90% payout felt realistic.
What worried him more was Emiliya paying Panlong cleanly. A trillion requires laundering and surviving the Covenant banks and tax bureau. Could a firm Panlong's size swallow it? Worst case: the Company scores the Grail, Emiliya swaps blood, jumps ship with the cash—and Li Pan's company gets shut down. Slaved all that time for someone else—what a joke.
So his preliminary plan: structure deals with TSC Tianhan, Paradise Group, even Hachiba Finance—convert as much cash as possible into assets or equity, plus medical insurance and isekai-transfer services to lock in an exit…
"Incoming call from Chen's Insurance Consulting Company."
Oh, right. The Security Bureau.
"Yo, Uncle Chen—what's up?"
"Li Pan, what are you people up to now?"
"Could you be specific, Uncle Chen? We've got lots of lines—delivery, sales, procurement…"
"Those starfolk! What kind of 'business' needs Level-7 armament? And four of them at once! What are you pulling!?"
"Level… seven? Oh, crap. I didn't know…"
"Li Pan! Cooperation is two-way! Correction Protocol, Tokugawa, Night Clan—when have you ever looped us in first? Do you really want to force me to go by the book?"
Hearing the old man flare up, Li Pan sighed.
"C'mon, Uncle Chen, I'm not playing you. I'm just an acting manager. HQ made the calls—I'm as shocked as you, okay? Ask what those starfolk are doing? They're here to replace me! I'm about to get canned!"
Silence. Then: "Are you serious? TheM will parachute a manager into a dump like 0791?"
Li Pan picked his nose. "You saw the B-B-A bodies, right? Level-7 armament. Who buys that for a weekend trip? They're here to stay.
And don't get me started on Correction—if I hadn't busted my ass, 0791 would be a glass sheet already! No commendation, no 'Saved the World' plaque—just lectures. I'm tired. From now on, talk to the starfolk."
"Wait," Chen said. "Meet me at the restaurant."
"That place? You treating?"
"You're resigning, aren't you? Least I can do."
Free food? Sold.
Li Pan cabbed to THE SHIT BURGER and met Uncle Chen.
Chen smoked in silence, gestured for him to sit. Li Pan didn't stand on ceremony—swigged Cool-Fay and chewed through maybe twenty burgers. Only then did Chen stub the cigarette and speak.
"We can help you take them out."
"…Huh?"
Chen sipped iced tea and pointed skyward.
Li Pan's burger fell out of his mouth. "Why…?"
Chen rattled the ice with his straw.
"Like you said: you pulled this planet back from the edge of Correction, didn't you."
Li Pan nodded.
"That's why they're replacing you. People on the ground will never be trusted by the starfolk."
Li Pan shrugged.
What could he say? It was true. Even among one world's humans, gender, skin, origin, age, job, class—everything breeds division. Across worlds, some "humans" had practically evolved into another species.
The Legion era had improved slightly—natives of parallel planes now counted as "human." But only those sifted, trained, sworn to pick up arms for the Security Committee and crush native rebellions were called "citizens."
In other words, Skyfolk barely qualified as proper citizens; Terrans were potential rebels. Especially in places like 0791, which had mounted armed uprisings not long ago.
Chen drank. "It's not just local vs central companies. The rift between plane Security Bureaus and Central Security is just as bad. The disagreements aren't policy—they're worldview.
Simplest example: Is it acceptable to trigger Correction Protocol on a world full of people?"
Li Pan nodded. Easy enough. Unless they were Skyfolk lying around conquering isekai, most Earthlings had something they loved on the ground.
Terrans have a saying: everything on Earth is worth missing.
Skyfolk have one too: look—the people down there are trash.
Says it all.
Whether a Terran is a citizen, a company dog, a fleet sailor, or a Security agent—asking them to watch their home, species, and planet be erased… that's not something a sane mind can swallow.
The starfolk don't care. They don't even have the concept.
To them, this Earth is just a game, a script, a dream.
"This time shook our agents too," Chen said, propping his hands together.
"To keep it from happening again, we need teammates we can talk to—work with.
So we'll give you a hand. How about it?"
Li Pan smiled. "Dangerous topic, Uncle Chen. One wrong answer and a pack of Cerberus will kick the door and drag me off."
Chen smiled back. "Think about it. Call me if you're in."
He paid the bill and left.
.
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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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