Good grief.
Li Pan could only blurt: good. grief.
Ten years, one hundred forty trillion burned—and still lost…
They even flooded the continental shelf, and the survivors had to be reborn as fish-people…
What can you even say? Corporate wars aren't playtime. Without the right mindset, don't start one.
Much as it pained him, Li Pan admitted: Plan A—a big flashy Grail bid—had to be shelved. No one would believe that little essay of a budget anyway.
Two trillion sounds hefty—enough to rebuild two Night City wards—but against dozens of trillions in war spend? It's nothing. One trillion buys a full battleship fleet for a mid-size PMC. One hundred forty trillion means hundreds of such companies ground to bankruptcy, dozens of full fleets burnt dry.
Seeing the scale of a real Grail War, Li Pan knew that without a solid, defensible plan, with Collectors already stirring in 0791, HQ wouldn't even humor him—much less approve a "trial run."
He'd misjudged it. Fair: a slum kid only months out into the world hasn't seen the board.
He'd truly thought there was no need to make it a huge scene.
0791 had monsters to spare—dozens of warehouses—security so lax he could lift handfuls with no blowback.
"One cup," he'd thought—grab it, pay some comp money, park it in a warehouse and run the process, sit down with the blood elders, grease the relationship, let them borrow the Grail as needed—nice and tidy.
From Night's perspective, you just change the seal's location—what's the loss? The companies get closer; story ends. He'd be down some cash, sure—but walk away with one trillion in kickbacks.
Naïve.
If the Grail is the sort of word-of-mouth legend that makes companies fight to the death, even to drown a continental shelf—and Night has First Reserve behind them; add Collectors placing a 0791 foothold, and the Demon Pit quietly joining the Trade Accord behind the monster company's back…
Then this Grail bid wouldn't be like the old ones. Not at all.
The Grail could become the fuse. A Security Committee–tier war could ignite on the spot—with 0791 as the front line.
Even if he stole the Grail—and got paid—and fled to the edge of the world—Night wouldn't spare him. If Night did, the Tax Bureau wouldn't…
Bottom line: he misread Night's power. The root cause was greed. The indirect cause was Emiliya's calculated omission.
A brand-new acting GM who knows nothing of multiversal power maps? She—Knight-Commander and butler—didn't know her own house?
She knew losing the Grail meant war.
She knew—and lied, redirecting the flood.
Calmer now, Li Pan could guess the motive.
Not "forgotten." Cornered. All-in.
Her patron, the Grand Duchess of Emilius, murdered; a Knight-Commander stripped overnight, out in the cold, no money, no leverage, no path to Elder—staring down Blood Woe. At that point, why care?
"After I die, let the flood come."
Cash out and run. If she jumped to TheM, and war broke out with Night, a defector could shine and climb. Smart calculus.
Go darker: was this all a setup from the start?
The assassination of the Duchess—wasn't it in Amakusa Shirō's plan with the werewolves? Duan Kecheng sticking a hand in didn't change a scripted future.
Night's Pacific investments, the Collector outpost—years in the making.
The Cult and the Demon Pit invading 0791; Duan's descent—three cycles into this sacrifice already—disaster bound to pop.
So Emiliya defecting with the Grail—just another tile in the mosaic?
An experienced 0791 GM team—wiped out for no stated reason.
She just happened to hook a two-months-in fool like Li Pan—
—to make him money-drunk, and let him file a one–two trillion budget, pick a fight with Night, launch a Grail War, and start the fire.
Then when Night pulled in forces from across the Myriad Worlds, how would an ordinary GM cope?
TheM gets dragged into a 140-trillion grinder—on someone else's timetable, on someone else's battlefield—bled in waves until a hidden hand lands the kill shot.
It's already begun. Would Security goons stab a company man for "hometown ties"?
Insidious.
Dangerous.
The multiverse is a minefield.
Those tempting contracts hide snares. Chase the kickback without due diligence and you're dead before you blink.
Brutal market competition, indeed.
Elbow on desk, chin in hand, Li Pan mapped the chaos and weighed his cards.
The more he thought, the more paranoid he felt. The old "grab the cup and run" plan shrank by the minute.
What's Ninth Yin, Fourth Turn worth? What's a perfected Blood God Son worth?
In a game that burns money, Li Pan's –50 million net worth is a –50 million combat rating…
He spiraled back into the loop: where to get money, how to get money, how to get money without money—until a ringing phone snapped him out.
"Boss!"
"Hm? Eighteen—what's up?"
"My satellite backup is online! Need your authorization to link Tech servers."
Right. That.
Forget trillions. Back to the day job…
Li Pan headed to Tech, clicked 'authorize' here, 'permit' there per -18's guidance, and brought the new gear online.
0791 Tech now fielded—besides the ground Orochi-18 mainframe—a TSC-procured military comm hub. Think 3D printing your brain: scan and back it up to a new deep-space server—a body-double for the brain-jar.
The uploaded Satellite Hub-18 now hid in the Kuiper Belt, at coordinates even Li Pan didn't know—only HQ had the keys.
Outside, it looked like an icy rock. Inside, it was a TSC micro-craft—cruiser-class frame, jump engine, self-plotting orbits, HT Technologies comm suite, independent defenses, and orbital gun sentry.
On top, twenty-four LEO spy sats. Same grade as Security uses. Beyond eyes and ears, they can spin up a global encrypted channel and private subnet. Firewalls and AV at latest versions—bulletproof for staff.
Short of—no, even if Security flipped the table, they might not crack the new company net to track, tap, or hack staff.
Yes, the company is this generous because Security's nerve stunned them. Kill a company employee? What next—rebellion?
"Boss, anyone you want to track? Wanna test it?"
You want to test it…
"Check K's location," Li Pan said.
"…No hit. They went underground after grabbing the werewolves," -18 reported.
Li Pan rolled his eyes. New toys can't see through walls—his divine sense can't either beyond drywall; Tokyo Underground is rebar + concrete + lead.
"Pick another?"
"…Find the werewolves."
"Boss… oh! Found her! She-Wolf!"
"Hm?"
A match—Leticia—confirmed by size and pheromones.
Alive—and unaware of the homunculus tag on her.
Hiding in the suburbs, beneath a bootleg signal mast, trying to call someone.
"Tap the line?" -18 asked.
"You can? Patch it quietly."
"On it~~"
…
"Amakusa! We need evac now! The Nightwalkers are on us like rabid dogs!" Leticia cried.
…Huh?
A voice came through, masked by synthetic timbre:
"You delayed. You didn't reach the exfil point per plan."
"You've got some nerve! It wasn't as agreed! When we hit the car, the Grand Duchess was already dead! And some nasty big-headed baby thing chased us the whole way—kept patting my head—so gross!"
"…You're dosed out of your mind… Do you have her chip? On you?"
"Yes, but listen—this place is haunted—"
"Enough, Hound. We'll talk later. I'm dispatching pickup."
"Wait! We're surrounded by Nightwalkers. I barely broke out to make this call—send help!"
"…Send the coords. You pull back. I'll task Akai Tengu to rescue the others."
"Do it! We're not gonna last!"
Intriguing. The cadence matched Amakusa Shirō from before. And, factoring in those 'gifts' in the cargo bay, this "exfil per plan" likely meant isekai reincarnation.
"-18, can you locate the other end?"
"Roughly Mars. Independent encrypted military channel. If they link again, we might pin the base—that's it. To go further we'd have to hack a fleet ICE—and trip alarms."
"Pinning a specific base is plenty," Li Pan said. "At his level, there aren't many who can task a cruiser. Shadow the She-Wolf."
"Should I mark this confidential?" -18 asked. "Authorize and I'll lock it down."
"Confidential. And call me a cab."
Li Pan headed for the suburbs to intercept Leticia before exfil. As he arrived, -18 chimed in:
"Others are hunting her—the call likely burned her."
"Who—Security or Night?"
In civvies already, Li Pan grabbed a respirator and acid-rain slicker off a street stall.
"Possibly both—multiple teams… She smelled it—now she's running! Shots fired! Whoa—she just leapt rooftop to rooftop!"
Cyber-parkour in the projects—the pigeon-coop blocks are perfect for it.
"Path it. She'll dive the sewers. We'll cut her off ahead."
-18 streamed the live sat feed: She-Wolf in camo, face smeared like she crawled out of a septic.
As she'd said, the werewolves were driven into the sewers by Nightwalkers; topside was a dragnet. Guilty of murdering a Grand Duchess—Security and Night would never let them go. Amakusa and Akai Tengu couldn't be trusted, but the wolves had no choice.
Seeing the real-time overlays, Li Pan slowed. Too many hunters.
Every downlink to the Underground had plainclothes. -18 detected a hidden mil-channel—popping every three minutes then cutting—anti-SIGINT procedure. Translation: snipers in place. -18 couldn't spot them—optical camo.
Prep was too thorough. This might not be "caught by chance"—Amakusa likely sold Leticia out.
Obvious. These wolves are expendables. K wants them alive to squeeze out the mastermind; the mastermind won't leave them alive.
As expected: when the rabbit dies, the hound gets cooked. No matter how hard you fight, after the dirty work you get cleaned up. There's always money for more martyrs—why keep a liability?
Counting on the morals of one above you is how pawns die.
Li Pan figured She-Wolf could last a bit. No way to get close to that rooftop gunfight yet, so he ducked into a ramen shop, opened a private channel to Emiliya.
"Heyyy—ready yet?" Emiliya's lazy drawl purred.
"Soon. You?"
"I—obviously I can start anytime. I'm practically unemployed, remember?"
"Low energy. Just wake up?"
"Didn't sleep…"
She pushed a photo—her POV of the Night Group Senate hall, a staple on TV. Elders shouting; two prince seats empty. HQ wouldn't parachute in two replacements, so somebody would rise.
Dead blood boiling again—motions and schemes, allies and vote-trades, all scrambling to become 0791 Regent.
She was clearly marginalized—far from the seats—basically on door duty.
"Hurry, or you miss the window."
Then a low-cut selfie from above.
"Okay okay—I'll work harder!"
He cut the line and called Elder Yulia of Night.
No answer. A synthetic avatar took the call. He booked dinner at Paradise for that evening.
Set the other messes aside—Collector and Security nonsense. Purely on who benefits most from the Duchess's death—prime suspect is Yulia.
She's the Julius scion—has the capital and backing. If a prince seat opens, she's already frontrunner. She beat the Duchess to a solo with Li Pan; now two seats are open.
She skipped the Senate scrum, dodged Li Pan's call—and a werewolf roundup is underway. Looks like she's watching the board.
Also—think. The Asura-kai's meteoric rise to nearly rival Tojo-kai—was that Asura Nian-Gui's solo act? Yulia, as patron, didn't do it for charity. Recruiting and training diehards costs money.
Li Pan suspected Yulia planned or at least took part in the hit. The wolves likely crossed under her arrangement—and now it's cut the grass, pull the roots.
"Boss—she's shot," -18 said.
…That's bad.
You can't guard against a hidden round. Li Pan had eaten three himself. In this age, snipers counter superhumans best. Flesh won't stop custom rounds. If grade-4 won't do, use grade-5; if not, custom; if not, man-portable ship guns. If you're painted, you won't dodge.
Leticia was no exception. Mid-leap, a round blew her gut, dumped her into a trash heap. Thigh and spine shattered. She lay, mouth and nose bubbling blood, eyes on the sky like a dying dog.
Li Pan slurped broth and, through the satellite feed, locked eyes with her from afar—watched her raise a broken arm toward the sky.
Getting done dirty like that… bitter.
Yeah. I don't intend to die on someone's string either.
"Ballistics complete. Sniper locked," -18 reported.
All right. Time to go collect the stray.
Li Pan swept the sat map—tagging hunters—tossed back the soup, tugged on the respirator, and stood.
"Boss—the car at the door—is that yours? Ten grand and it's mine."
"Pleasure doing business!"
He ripped the plates off the compact, floored it, and shot down the narrow lane.
"-18—authorization. Blanket hack them."
"Roger! ICE down! Mass geotag—comms jam—eye-implants off—weapons lock—cyber malfunctions—chip overload—EM shorts—system reboots—memory wipes—oh whoa it's fast—it's so fast—the homunculus upload is insane—ahahaha!"
…-18 was having fun.
Li Pan kept the pedal buried, plowing aside agents jerking and sparking like street dancers, and pulled up at the trash heap. He scooped Leticia into the hatchback—
—and in broad daylight, drove away.
.
.
.
⚠️ 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."
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