Chapter Eight: The Path of Flight

"Who was responsible for the implant lockout?! Why is his implant still functional!"

Before the terrified scream could even fade, a sharper, more piercing sound drowned it out.

A flash of cold light swept across the room. The long table, along with the instruments atop it, was sliced in two. The researcher rolled backward in a panic, narrowly evading the strike amidst a cacophony of shattering glass and equipment.

Heavy, labored breathing echoed through the laboratory.

Having cleaved through the obstructive table in a single blow, Mariko did not press his attack; instead, he stood frozen in place.

His appearance had been transformed.

His original white hospital gown was reduced to rags, with only a few tattered strips remaining. Beneath his synthetic skin, which had split from the strain of overloading, one could vaguely see writhing bundles of reinforced muscle fibers and the constant flickering of red light.

Milky-white synthetic plasma and crimson organic blood, indistinguishable in their origin, mixed together as they dripped from his body.

But no one dared to mock him.

Mariko’s two prosthetic limbs, the "Daedalus Hands," were running at an overload state, hissing as plumes of white steam vented from their exhaust ports.

Moments ago, they had watched with their own eyes as he pulverized a colleague's head with a single punch.

The circular cutter blade that had snapped out from the side of his arm—a tool intended for emergency engineering—had just sliced through a solid table with ease, nearly claiming another life.

Fearing complications like "cyberpsychosis" and content with their current, relatively comfortable lifestyles, the researchers here had restricted their own degree of modification to around 20%—the equivalent of replacing one hand and one leg.

Furthermore, even if they had gone further, how could mere researchers hope to defeat a cyber-psycho who was armed with industrial-grade prosthetics and possessed no inhibitions?

"Contact the Security Bureau... no, it's too late! When is our backup arriving?" a researcher hiding behind a large piece of equipment cried out in terror.

"I’ve already notified Kopol. He is bringing men here now. Estimated time of arrival... three minutes."

Kopol was the commander of the research facility’s security detail.

Amidst the chaos of the lab, Vidani’s voice remained flat.

"The target appears to retain a certain level of combat cognition; he prioritized destroying the security cameras. Furthermore, the target will initiate an attack if he perceives any intent to move toward the door."

While keeping her eyes on Mariko in the distance, Vidani moved slowly toward the data pad. The mind-tuning apparatus had been destroyed at the start, but the associated data recording equipment remained, and she needed it.

"So, for now, let's all do our best to survive."

The next moment.

Mariko lifted his head again, looking around with a vacant expression. Slowly, his gaze locked onto a man in the distance.

"What is your relationship... with Geli?"

It was the same male researcher who had handed over the memory chip just moments before.

***

Looking into the other man's hollow eyes, he swallowed hard. By forcibly inserting a cyberpsychosis memory chip, the target’s original personality had likely already been overwritten.

Wait—overwritten—

He desperately tried to recall the cyberpsychosis file: a street member addicted to virtual avatars, suffering from severe delusional cognitive impairment... Right, the point of conflict was Geli! A high school classmate of the subject, a clerk in the financial sector.

"I know Geli! I’m a friend of Geli’s!" he quickly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "But we don't have any relationship beyond friendship! I’m not your rival! In fact, if you want, I can help you pursue—"

"You’re not?"

A look of pain slowly spread across Mariko's face, and his tone suddenly turned furious.

"—Why would you say you’re not!"

Accompanying the roar was an iron fist that smashed through tables and chairs, fingers clenched tight.

*Bang!*

*Splat!*

...

"So, it has begun."

Under the enhancement of psionics, his five senses were further heightened. Even with the soundproofing layers in the laboratory walls, Song Shi could faintly hear the commotion from afar.

The timing was even better than he had anticipated.

"...I keep my promises."

After a whisper that no one heard, Song Shi withdrew his gaze and began to sprint through the corridor!

Based on the navigation diagrams on the walls and the view from the corridor windows, Song Shi had already gained a rough understanding of the entire facility—at least of this building and the surrounding area.

"Network access can be restored at any time, but only for one use... Tsk, the hardware is still too poor, and there's no time to recompile the domain module."

He lacked high-end flagship data processors, supercomputing micro-nodes for increased processing power, customized hacking tools, or domain combat modules for information theft, location tracking, virus injection, prosthetic takeover, or ice-breaking—not counting that pirated pop-up ad blocker.

For actions like disabling cameras, jamming regional networks, cutting communication channels, or altering network protocols, he only had one chance for each.

After that, the facility’s entire network defense system would realize someone had broken in, immediately raise its alert level, and might even trace the connection back to him!

*Hoo—*

But it wasn't a major problem.

Operating in resource-scarce environments was a mandatory lesson for every freelance bounty hunter!

The corridor was deserted.

It was ten o'clock at night.

At this hour, nightlife might just be starting for some, but the rest of the facility's staff had already clocked out and left. Not just this building, but the entire facility was in a state of emptiness—after all, those truly dedicated to research wouldn't be drifting through a peripheral facility.

The five people from earlier were the more important researchers, kept behind specifically for volunteer clinical trials.

***

The laboratory was on the fifth floor.

Ignoring the elevator, he ran the whole way.

A few breaths later, Song Shi leaped down from the stairwell and glanced at the sign on the wall indicating the second floor.

He would be out of this building soon.

But the situation remained dire, especially when he glanced out the window on the fourth floor and saw the autonomous machine-gun turrets rotating silently in the facility's garden—the distance was too great to identify the specific model, but they appeared to be from the Sentinel series.

The Sentinel series was the best-selling product line from [Shanta Industries], known for its cost-effectiveness and mass-market appeal.

"Cost-effective" meant cheap—both in production cost and retail price; "mass-market" meant stripped-down functionality, emphasizing that as long as it could move, it was sufficient.

But no matter how "cost-effective" or "mass-market" they were, a rain of steel-core bullets firing at twelve rounds per second could easily shred his current body.

"These autonomous turrets don't have a separate local network; they're directly connected to the facility's public network. I can bypass the ICE (Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics) via a jump host and force a ten-second shutdown... I only have one chance."

If any unexpected situation forced him to use network operations prematurely and alerted the firewall, then...

The roar of engines suddenly echoed from afar.

Following that, before the engines could fully cut out, a series of rapid footsteps came from below.

Accompanying them was a steady, calm voice.

"—The target is an out-of-control cyber-psycho, currently located on the fifth floor."

"Our primary objective is to rescue Vidani and the others, our secondary objective is to capture the cyber-psycho alive if possible, and our third objective is to control the scene and minimize property damage."

"Without my permission, the use of live ammunition is prohibited. Otherwise, it will be considered a disciplinary violation, and 15% of your salary will be deducted."

"Damn it, we don't make much money to begin with, and they nickel and dime us for everything... Tsk."

Unlike the laid-back attitude of the big guy—at least on the surface—this security team that had rushed over upon receiving the emergency call consisted of five men, each fully armed with bulging tactical vests and an array of long and short-barreled firearms.

Moreover, every one of these five had a modification degree of at least 30%: dual hearts, triple lungs, prosthetic limbs with expansion modules, prosthetic eyes of various colors that looked like protruding lenses, and vast tattoos of demons, dragons, and mandalas. Regardless of whether their implant configurations were logical or their combat awareness sufficient, their appearance alone was intimidating enough.

Song Shi paused for a split second, pulled the "Black Powder H-2" from behind his waist, tossed it into a hallway trash bin, and covered it with refuse.

He rubbed his face and adjusted his breathing.

A look of sheer terror appeared on Song Shi's face.

As he ran toward the next floor down, he began to cry out loudly.

"Help, help me..."

"—Is anyone there!"