Cyberpunk: The Relentless

"Come at me if you wanna fight."

The moment David heard Karl utter those words, he felt a sudden gust of wind—and the next thing he knew, a force yanked him backward.

"Get as far away from here as you can, David. The farther the better. What's about to happen… isn't something you can be part of."

Jack grabbed David by the collar and hurled him backward. As he did, his Synaptic Accelerator activated.

His body had already sensed the lethal threat.

No words. No wasted movement. And just as Karl's voice faded, Adam Smasher launched his assault.

His shoulders opened up—shoulder-mounted rocket launchers locking into place. And in the blink of an eye, he unleashed a barrage of rockets on Karl and his crew.

He hadn't used a single rocket on the Militech operatives earlier. But now, he unleashed all of them—without hesitation.

As David was flung through the air, he fixated on one of the rockets. It seemed to swallow the world around it. Then the realization hit—despite Jack throwing him to safety the instant the battle started, David was still inside the blast radius.

He tried to activate his Sandevistan.

But before he could, a figure had already caught up to him midair—snatching him like a balloon, zipping across the sky, dragging him far away at breakneck speed.

As they fled, David looked back and saw a massive mushroom cloud rising on the horizon—born from the rocket barrage.

"Still too close."

A muttered voice reached his ears just before his body was yanked violently to the ground. He coughed as dust filled his mouth and lungs.

"Cough! Cough!!"

Wincing, he raised his sand-scraped face and looked up.

It was Oliver—the one who had saved him.

Gone was the usual warmth and friendly smile. Replaced now with cold, focused intensity.

Oliver's eyes were locked on the battlefield where the Sandevistan had just activated. In his hands, a Nekoyanagi Tech sniper rifle was already locked, sights up, fingers steady.

As a sniper, Oliver understood his role perfectly. Against an enemy like Adam Smasher, his melee skills—sufficient against typical cyberpsychos—meant nothing. He had to keep his distance. Getting close would only put the team at greater risk.

Through the scope, the battlefield was still cloaked in dust and smoke. But already, Smasher's steel arm had lashed out—intercepting a deadly slash to the head from the left.

"Thermal katana."

That glowing blade, swung with full force, had only managed to carve half a centimeter into his reinforced arm. Adam Smasher turned and gave V a cruel, contemptuous grin.

"Cute trick."

And then—within the slowed perception of the Sandevistan—Smasher lifted his left leg and kicked.

With the sheer power behind it—and the size of that mechanical limb, thick as V's torso—one kick could've cleaved V in two.

But V wasn't alone in the slowed moment.

As Smasher kicked, a monowire lashed toward his eyes.

Most of Smasher's body was impervious to a monowire's lash. But not his cybernetic eyes.

His optics had functions like shock-resistance, low-light enhancement, and ultraviolet/infrared vision. But because they needed to transmit light, the external layer was still relatively fragile. It could withstand most bullets—but not a fully charged monowire strike.

Faced with the choice of losing his eyes or dealing with Karl later, Smasher didn't hesitate. He chose the latter.

He turned his head, letting the monowire glance off his cheek—shaving away synthetic skin and leaving a scorched line on the alloy cheekbone.

V easily dodged the now off-target kick. But instead of retreating, he pressed forward.

He slammed his elbow into the katana's hilt, jamming the blade further into Smasher's arm and loosening it.

Then he moved in—right into Smasher's chest.

Using his ring and pinky fingers, he gripped the end of the hilt and pulled.

Ancient swordsmanship teaches: "Grip with the last two fingers, keep the first three relaxed." The idea is to align the wrist and blade in a single line for clean cuts.

V had never studied those styles, but he'd cut down enough enemies to understand the principle.

He slipped into what looked like an awkward position—but with both hands on the katana, he raised it behind his head and brought it down in a vertical slash.

Smasher hadn't expected that. He had just avoided the monowire and didn't think this low-ranking merc would dare charge into his face again.

But he had.

Smasher's peripheral vision caught the rising blade and he jerked his head again.

"Shunk!"

The katana grazed his cheek, cleaved off part of a metal node connecting his forehead to the back of his skull, and slammed into his shoulder.

If he'd still had an ear, that slash would've taken it off.

"Two annoying chunks of meat!"

Smasher spun around violently—his fists lashing out in a storm of blows. V and Karl were forced to retreat under the onslaught.

Rage burned in his optics. He was furious at his own misstep and swore to crush these insects.

But the moment V and Karl pulled back—Jack was already there.

He had finished charging his tech shotgun: the dual-barreled Sadara.

"PONG!"

A cloud of electrified micro-darts sprayed across Smasher's frame. Sparks erupted across his steel plating.

Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Don't forget—there's one more of us, asshole."

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