This time, Maine's silence wasn't met with any urging. Everyone simply waited quietly.
Only David and Dorio knew he had come to see Vik for a checkup, but once the others realized something was wrong with their boss, they all stayed behind without a word.
For an Edgerunner, Maine was already an old-timer. Most of them wouldn't have made it this far without his support.
They were willing to wait for his decision—and more importantly, respect it.
"Then… I'll leave it to you, Doctor."
Maine lowered his head, his voice heavy and muffled.
No matter what, he had to face it—face his failing body head-on.
For Vik, checking for Cyberware erosion was routine work. As the tests went on, his frown only deepened.
"Well? Doctor, how bad is it?"
Maine's tone carried a hint of expectation, though he already had some idea.
"Cyberware—especially combat-grade Cyberware—comes with a tolerance threshold.
Stay within that limit, and both body and mind remain steady.
But once you push past it, the erosion turns into a negative feedback loop. The damage snowballs, worsening until it spins completely out of control."
Vik looked Maine square in the eye. He didn't know this man, but as a doctor, he had a duty to warn him.
"Unfortunately, you've already gone past that threshold—and you've been in this dangerous state for a long time.
The damage has already snowballed dangerously. The decline follows an exponential curve. Your condition will worsen fast.
Every extra day you push yourself will cause irreversible harm."
Vik's voice, steady and commanding as always, left no room for doubt.
That same confidence usually gave patients a sense of safety—but at times like this, it only made things feel more hopeless.
Maine's broad hand raked through his hair in frustration. He didn't cry, but the motion was raw, an outlet for his anger.
Then, lifting his head, the defeat on his face was gone. He slapped Dorio's shoulder and suddenly laughed.
Looking around at the worried faces, the shadows in his heart were chased away by their concern.
From the beginning, he had never cared for fame, fortune, or even strength for its own sake.
Everything he had done was for the people standing here with him.
And now, his own Cyberware had become a demon threatening to harm them. He realized he had no reason left to hesitate.
In the past, he'd been caught in a vicious cycle—haunted by the loss of comrades, each memory like a knife driving him to grow stronger, to chase the power to protect.
But the first rule of protecting… was not causing harm yourself.
"That brat Pilar's out of commission. I'll give him a hand, help with the mechanics.
From here on… everyone needs to be more careful."
Maine's eyes drifted, as if looking back on his past.
So many had already been lost without him noticing. Those comrades from the early days—he could hardly remember their faces now.
Many had pushed him forward, but in the end… he could go no further.
Dragging his thoughts back, Maine turned to Vik.
"So, Doctor. Treat me. And while you're at it—tell me about my retirement."
Making surgery his retirement ceremony—he couldn't tell if that was luck or tragedy.
"Your Cyberware is not only outdated but also poorly compatible with each other. I'll need to dismantle them.
Your nervous system has also grown fragile from years of erosion. I'll replace what I can with low-burden parts.
Overall, you're in much better shape than Pilar. Aside from losing the use of your combat Cyberware, there shouldn't be much else holding you back."
Vik gazed at the calm giant before him, emotions stirring.
He too had once faced a similar choice: keep living, or burn out fast.
He had chosen this life.
After listening carefully, Maine nodded.
He slipped off his black punk jacket, then removed the narrow tactical shades from his face.
"Doctor."
In that moment, all the fire and gunpowder in him seemed to fade away.
"Please."
The treatment would be far from easy. But with Maine agreeing, the rest of the crew finally relaxed and began leaving the clinic one by one.
Only Dorio stayed.
It felt unfair to Pilar, but the truth was, it was thanks to him that Maine had agreed at all.
If not for his condition, Maine would never have realized how terrifying Cyberpsychosis truly was.
Sometimes, a half-dead man was a harsher warning than a corpse.
...
Outside the clinic, Arthur watched the two green braids swinging in front of his face, resigned.
Everyone else had left—except Rebecca, the little brat, still bouncing around him.
"Aren't you heading home? Kids need sleep if they want to grow taller."
Rebecca planted her hands on her hips, tilted her head back, and glared at him.
"Pretty boy, who are you calling short?
I'm staying here to watch my old man—what's it to you?"
Her words came with such intensity that her chest rose and fell dramatically.
The pink tattoos along her neck and collarbone shifted with her movements.
On her pale skin, the pink ink formed two cross-shaped patterns, like angry monster eyes. Yet instead of scary, it only made her look like she was trying too hard to act tough—and ending up cute instead.
Seeing her righteous defiance, Arthur wondered if he was just overthinking.
"Well… I'll be going then."
He took a few steps toward the high-rise apartments. Behind him, Rebecca whistled casually as she trailed after him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Arthur turned back and flicked her forehead with his finger.
"I! Wasn't! Following…"
Her voice grew smaller with each word until it faded completely.
Rebecca's red eyes flicked up at him. She scuffed her boot against the ground and muttered uncertainly.
"I… I just wanted to thank you for saving my old man. So I thought I'd buy you a drink."
Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Drinks? I think we should slow down a bit.
Come on. I'll get you some food, then you're off to bed."
At once, Rebecca lit up, skipping to his side.
"What, no need to look after your brother now?"
"Please. My brother's tough. He doesn't need babysitting."
Little China was full of noodle shops. Dawn was just breaking, but most workers had already eaten and left messy tables behind.
Arthur picked one that was still clean enough, ordered two bowls of noodle soup, and waited with Rebecca.
She sat on her stool with her legs dangling, swinging restlessly until her boots brushed against Arthur's pants.
He was sure the brat was doing it on purpose.
As they waited, Arthur finally couldn't resist. He jabbed her forehead again.
When she clutched it and settled down, he finally ate in peace.
It was during the meal that his comm pinged.
The call was from Regina Jones.
The "father" from the original host's memories—the man who had sold him—had vanished without a trace by the time Arthur escaped and went looking.
That was when Arthur realized: the man probably hadn't been his real father at all.
In his memories, the man only showed up half a day each month, and whenever he did, he beat him senseless.
After realizing this, Arthur went back to look for him—but the so-called home was abandoned, and the man had disappeared without a trace.
Out of options, Arthur turned to the local fixer, Regina Jones, and asked for her help in finding him.
Now, she was calling. Looked like the old bastard had finally slipped.
Arthur set down his chopsticks and looked at Rebecca, who was still slurping noodles across from him. He didn't bother hiding it.
"Regina, what is it? Any leads on the man I asked you to find?"
Rebecca saw the gleam in his eyes, caught on immediately, and leaned across the table, her head almost bumping into his.