Arthur Vale quickly understood one thing after waking up in Night City—no matter how strange his arrival had been, the danger around him was completely real.
He was no longer some outsider looking at this city from a distance. He was now the leader of Destiny Church, a small underground group struggling to survive in the worst districts of Night City. And worse, he carried another title—ripperdoc.
That was the real problem.
Arthur knew the theory behind cyberware. He had studied models, combat implants, neural upgrades, black-market modifications. But standing in front of Little Bain, staring at the patched-up cybernetic limbs and mismatched upgrades installed in the man's body, he realized something terrifying.
He didn't recognize half of them.
These weren't clean corporate implants with proper serial numbers. These were street-salvaged parts. Some were outdated. Some were modified beyond standard specs. Some probably shouldn't even function together.
And apparently… he was the one who had installed them.
Arthur felt a cold sweat forming.
Should he run?
If he went back to the clinic and someone discovered that he didn't know how to repair the cyberware he supposedly installed, he would be exposed immediately. In Night City, incompetence wasn't forgiven. It was punished.
Going out to drink and chase girls like some carefree punk? That was fantasy. This city devoured dreamers.
"Brother Arthur, what are you thinking about?" Little Bain laughed while adjusting the steering wheel. "You're the one who installed all this chrome on me. Without you, I'd be dead in a gutter."
Arthur forced a calm expression.
Little Bain continued, "Didn't you say you wanted to check out Clouds in Japantown? It's expensive, but we could treat you this time. Funds are tight, but for you, we can manage."
Arthur shook his head slightly.
"What happened to the people we fought yesterday?"
Little Bain's eyes darkened.
"Oh. Those Scavenger bastards? Thanks to your plan, we wiped out a lot of them. Rescued more than twenty homeless people from their basement. If the NCPD hadn't shown up so fast, we would've finished every last one."
Arthur's heart skipped.
My plan?
And those enemies… were Scavengers?
Everyone in Night City knew about the Scavengers. They were the lowest predators in the urban food chain. They kidnapped people, stripped their cyberware while still alive, and sold the parts on the black market. They were hated even by other gangs.
No rules. No loyalty. No mercy.
And apparently, Arthur Vale had declared war on them.
---
The van rattled through broken streets on the way back to their base. Neon signs flickered above garbage piles. The city felt alive, but sick.
Little Bain drove. Arthur stared ahead, trying to piece together the past.
"Brother Arthur," Bain said softly, "we avenged Brother Crow. But you can't let that destroy you."
Arthur turned slowly.
"Crow?"
Bain hesitated, studying Arthur's expression carefully. After confirming he wasn't joking, he began explaining.
Crow had been the first leader of Destiny Church. The big brother to everyone. His dream was simple, but insane—he wanted to become a godfather in Night City. Not a street thug. A legend.
Arthur had been his only deputy and the group's ripperdoc.
Crow's past was brutal. He grew up in the slums, born into misery. When he was fifteen, Tyger Claws members tore through his life and left it in ruins. That night changed him forever. Rage became his fuel. Survival became his religion.
When Arthur first met him, Crow was half-dead in a dumpster, waiting to die.
Instead, Arthur had brought him back to the clinic.
At that time, Arthur followed the usual ripperdoc rule—don't overload yourself with combat implants. Too much chrome meant cyberpsychosis. Too much metal meant losing yourself.
Crow didn't believe in that limit.
As he recovered, he started talking about legends. About standing at the top of Arasaka Tower. About making Night City kneel.
They had no money.
Arthur had no test subjects.
So they made a reckless choice.
Arthur installed every random piece of combat cyberware Crow could find. Reinforced muscles. Reflex boosters. Targeting systems. Even military-grade implants salvaged from god-knows-where.
Most rookie ripperdocs did something stupid once.
Crow survived it.
Not only survived—he adapted.
His tolerance was terrifying. Calm mind. Iron will. He handled chrome like he was born for it.
Arthur remembered the imagined scene clearly:
"I believe you'll stand on top of Arasaka Tower one day."
It sounded ridiculous.
But Crow believed it.
---
Then came the mistake.
Crow met Scavengers who sold him something called Black Dream.
It was rumored to accelerate combat skill acquisition—muscle memory downloads, neural combat training, instant mastery of weapons.
It was also unstable.
On a storm-filled night, everything fell apart.
Crow didn't die in corporate crossfire.
He didn't die in gang war.
He died inside a Scavenger hideout, consumed by an experimental black-market neural implant that fried his mind and body.
His legend ended before it began.
Arthur—his former self—had been furious.
Not just because Crow died.
But because he had lost his greatest creation.
And his only friend.
To the others, he declared:
"Crow was my brother. The Scavengers will pay."
Then he did something reckless.
He went to Afterlife.
In front of mercenaries, fixers, and legends-in-waiting, he emptied every eddie he had.
He hired a group of second-tier mercenaries and launched a full assault on the Scavenger hideout.
No fixer. No middleman.
Just blood.
The hideout became a slaughterhouse.
That night marked the true beginning of the feud.
Some Scavengers escaped.
They traced the attack back to Arthur Vale.
And from then on—
Destiny Church became a target.
---
Arthur absorbed all of this in silence.
The former Arthur had done something else as well.
He selected homeless individuals—those physically stable enough—and installed basic cyberware for them. Gave them the ability to work. To fight. To survive.
It wasn't charity.
It was building loyalty.
And building an army.
Yesterday's battle had been the first counterattack after months of being hunted.
And somehow—
After the fight, Arthur had collapsed behind a dumpster. A cheap fake Tsunami pistol found beside him.
Then… this version of Arthur woke up.
He rubbed his temples.
"So now," he muttered internally, "I have to fix the Scavenger problem… and lead Destiny Church."
In a game, controlling V, crushing Scavengers felt easy.
But this wasn't a game.
Here, even a low-level Scavenger thug could kill him if he hesitated.
He wasn't overpowered.
He wasn't legendary.
He was vulnerable.
"Brother Arthur," Bain said softly. "We're here."
The van stopped in front of a small bar with flickering lights. An electronic calendar glowed above the door.
December 31, 2074.
Two years before the chaos of 2076.
Two years before the fall of legends.
Arthur stepped out and took a slow breath.
The future flashed through his mind.
David Martinez's tragic rise and fall in Cyberpunk: Edgerunners.
The uncertain fate of V in Cyberpunk 2077.
Night City devoured ambition.
But it also rewarded preparation.
"What's done is done," Arthur told himself. "Cause and effect. Crow's death created this war. The war created this position. And now… I stand here."
He turned to Bain.
"Arrange dinner. We'll talk strategy after."
He had to adapt.
He had to learn every implant in his clinic.
He had to rebuild trust.
And he had to eliminate the Scavenger threat—properly this time.
No reckless revenge.
No emotional spending at Afterlife.
Strategic moves only.
The city ran on power.
And power required systems.
Just as that thought formed—
A cold mechanical voice echoed inside his mind.
[Ding… Mechanical Overlord System successfully loaded.]
Arthur froze.
The sound was clear. Not imagined. Not external.
Inside his consciousness.
His heartbeat accelerated.
A system?
In Night City?
Was this some experimental neural interface left behind by the former Arthur? Some hidden AI? Or something else entirely?
The voice continued silently, awaiting input.
Arthur slowly exhaled.
If Night City operated on cause and effect—
Then perhaps this was the effect of everything that came before.
Crow's ambition.
The war.
The collapse.
And now—
A new variable had entered the equation.
Arthur Vale straightened his back.
Night City wasn't ready.
But neither was he.
And that meant the real game had just begun.