"Where did this bring me?"
James lay on a pure white floor, his body perfectly intact, not even a scratch on him.
"Get up. Why are you still lying there?"
A voice echoed from above.
James raised his head and saw a hand extended toward him. Almost instinctively, he grabbed it.
In the next instant, countless memories detonated inside his mind like fireworks.
Lives, battles, pain, victories—scenes overlapped, collided, and fused. Yet strangely, James did not feel fear or shock. Instead, he absorbed everything naturally, as if these memories had always belonged to him.
There was no rejection.
No resistance.
Only acceptance.
"Now you understand what's going on, right?"
James stood up and looked at the figure before him—a man wearing a Pilot helmet.
He knew immediately.
That was himself… from another world.
"I knew it," Cyber James said, curling his lips into a grin. "Someone as handsome as me was always meant to be the protagonist."
After waiting so long, his cheat had finally arrived.
"Can you put some clothes on first?"
Titan James sounded helpless. Even if they were all James, their bodies were still different. Seeing a naked version of himself was not something he wanted burned into his memory.
"Ah—sorry, sorry."
Cyber James thought for a moment, and the familiar clothes he usually wore materialized over his body.
Inside this pure white space, all those who existed were different versions of James's consciousness. Adjusting appearances was effortless.
Besides Titan James, there was one more presence.
Ghoul James.
Despite the name, he wasn't a ghoul. He was a pre-investigator who hadn't yet graduated. Compared to Cyber James, he looked older and far more imposing—tall, muscular, built like a professional athlete.
Same handsome face.
Completely different aura.
The only flaw was his skin being a bit too fair. Otherwise, he'd have been unstoppable.
Titan James, on the other hand, had originally been nothing more than a rifleman. But during an investigation mission, fate twisted, and he became the acting Pilot of BT.
Now, he was stranded alone on an alien planet, continuing a mission that should have ended long ago.
"Wait," Cyber James frowned. "Where's Cooper?"
He searched Titan James's memories but found no trace of the legendary Pilot.
"What if I am Cooper?"
Titan James crossed his arms. His face was hidden beneath the helmet, his voice filtered and distorted—cold, heavy, and strangely confident.
"Then it's over," Ghoul James said flatly, spreading his hands. "The Militia is doomed. Might as well surrender now."
"Hey, don't say something so cruel," Cyber James protested. "We're all on the same side. At least give him some dignity."
Titan James snorted.
He'd thought the same at first. Without Cooper, becoming the legendary Pilot himself sounded like a bad joke.
But now?
Now he had a cheat.
Who decides legends?
I will become one.
The only regret was that only two weaklings had arrived so far. Their legs weren't even as thick as his arms. Until a stronger backing appeared, hiding on that alien planet and growing stronger was the smarter choice.
---
Boom—!
The roar of a rocket launch tore James from his sleep.
Blazing flames dyed half the sky orange as the moonport ignited.
James's apartment faced the launch zone. Every few days, the sound dragged him out of bed.
He stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection.
This body… was real.
Though his physique hadn't visibly changed, every muscle was now perfectly refined, packed with terrifying power.
With the fusion of three versions of himself, James was no longer just one man.
He was the strength of Three Jameses combined.
Originally, Cyber James had been the weakest. But now, all three shared identical physical strength.
No hierarchy.
No imbalance.
"This feeling…" James whispered. "This power is incredible."
He threw several punches at the air.
Thump. Thump.
The sound alone proved it.
This strength rivaled Edgerunners equipped with Gorilla Arms. Combined with enhanced speed and reflexes, even a gorilla would feel like a punching bag.
And it wasn't just physical power.
Titan James brought battlefield instincts—orbital drops, star-level warfare, professional gunplay.
Ghoul James brought investigation techniques and mastery over cold weapons.
One James might be weak.
Three Jameses together meant survival.
He might still avoid beef in Night City—but at least now, he had the right to refuse cilantro.
If he met Lucy again on that city rail…
He could pin her down and flick her—
No. Stop.
"Awesome!"
James finished a full set of military boxing, his breathing steady, his mind clear. The frustration that had piled up over days finally dispersed.
Power aside, he was still carbon-based.
Laying low was still necessary.
His gaze shifted to the pistol on the workbench.
Lucy's gun.
He picked it up, weighed it, and instinctively knew—he could hit a target a hundred meters away with ease.
Not just memory.
Control.
"An Omaha-series pistol," James muttered. "Crude modifications."
The moment his fingers touched it, technical data flooded his mind.
If he took the Arasaka Academy entrance exam now, his intelligence would easily exceed hacker-level standards.
He hadn't failed to learn hacking because he didn't want to.
He simply hadn't been smart enough back then.
In moments, the pistol was disassembled, parts laid out neatly. His hands moved like they were dancing.
Cleaning. Polishing. Replacing worn components.
Militech's Omaha series looked cheap by design. Inside, it hid an electromagnetic rail system firing solid metal slugs with terrifying power.
When he reassembled it, the slide moved smoothly.
Perfect.
"Three hundred eurodollars," James scoffed. "Lucy, you got a bargain."
Then a thought crossed his mind.
"I've… never gone out after dark."
He didn't hesitate.
New hoodie. Magazine loaded. Gun tucked at his waist.
The door opened.
Night City—here I come.
---
Neon drowned Japantown.
Music thundered. Drugs and alcohol flowed freely. Screams vanished beneath the noise.
Gunshots didn't even sound out of place.
Lucy stumbled through the crowd, clutching her abdomen. Blood seeped through her fingers.
The pain wasn't what hurt most.
It was betrayal.
The bullet had passed clean through. No fatal damage.
A Type-1 healing agent kicked in, dulling pain and sealing wounds.
One more alley, and she could reach the city rail.
But the street was empty.
Too empty.
A familiar voice stopped her.
"I almost let you escape."
The sound of a Monowire slicing air followed.
It missed.
Prepared.
Another voice sneered from the side.
"Enough talking. Grab her. Damn, she's hot—Clouds girls don't even compare."
Scavengers.
Lucy's heart sank.
Her pistol… was with James.
For the first time in years—
She was truly in danger.
"I'll—"
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three bullets tore through the speaker's skull.
Before anyone reacted, more shots rang out.
One by one, Scavengers collapsed.
Until the apron-wearing man laughed.
"Alloy skullcap. Didn't expect that—"
Bang.
His throat exploded.
He still fell forward.
"Tough bastard," James muttered, empty magazine clicking dry.
A steel pipe plunged into the man's cybernetic eye.
Silence.
"So dirty," James said, shaking his hand.
Lucy stopped in front of him, staring.
Familiar face.
Completely unfamiliar presence.
"If I hadn't run into you," James said calmly, "I'd probably be watching your black braindance tomorrow."
"If my gun wasn't with you," Lucy snapped back, "this would already be over."
She stepped closer—habit.
James pressed a hand to her head, stopping her.
"At this point," he said softly, "you should be saying thank you."
Lucy flushed.
"…Thank you."
"What? Too quiet. Speak up."
"THANK YOU—!!!"
She grabbed his ear and shouted.
James winced.
---