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🕑 Added 2025-07-16 16:38:31 +0000 UTCChapter 211: Los Alamos
“…”
Liraya fell silent as she listened. She didn’t think Rogue had any reason to make up stories to deceive her. Even if her perspective was a bit subjective, the truth probably wasn’t far off—especially since Tars didn’t bother to contradict her.
“So, stop overthinking it,” Rogue said, glancing at Riku. To her, this whole thing sounded like some kind of urban legend, totally unreliable.
“Whatever you say. I’m heading out,” Riku replied with a casual shrug, mimicking a bear spreading its paws. Tars Santiago had just sent him the marked location, and with that in hand, this couple was no longer of any use to him.
Still, if they wanted to tag along, Riku didn’t mind bringing them for the ride, considering they’d provided the address.
As Riku stood to leave, Liraya got up too, clearly still intrigued and unconvinced by Rogue’s words. Tars Santiago rubbed his forehead, picking up on Liraya’s vibe—she just wanted an adventure. He tugged her arm gently and shot Rogue a look: Sure, go if you want, but don’t follow this Devil.
It was obvious this Devil guy had completely different goals. Tars had no interest in getting dragged into some big mess for no reason.
Liraya caught Tars Santiago’s glance and sat back down obediently. She wasn’t the type to chase thrills blindly.
Riku left the Afterlife bar and headed straight for the Old Captain. There was no direct flight from Night City to Los Alamos, so he’d have to drive—nearly 1,600 kilometers, practically crossing the entire western region. He needed a car built for off-roading, something that wouldn’t stress out his trusty Thorton.
“This baby’s perfect. My freshly modded Mizutani Hoon Wolf,” the Old Captain said, proudly showing off his automotive business’s crown jewel when Riku came to borrow a ride.
“The standard version’s a city car, built for smooth roads—not great for the desert wastelands. Hit a few bumps, and it’d break down in no time. But this upgraded Wolf? It cuts through rough terrain like a laser katana through butter. And its insane engine? Anyone with bad intentions will be eating your dust!”
Patting the Wolf’s hood, the Old Captain hyped it up, though it wasn’t just talk. The Mizutani Hoon was blazing fast—two Thortons might not even keep up. Strip off the Thorton’s “turtle shell,” and maybe it could compete, given its own beefy engine.
“This’ll do,” Riku said, not picky. The Mizutani Hoon Wolf had solid looks, complete with a rear wing that gave it a supercar vibe, but wilder—not just some track-only toy.
“It’s yours. Don’t say no, or I’ll be pissed,” said the Old Captain, Muammar Reyes, tossing the keys to Riku with a serious look. He wasn’t joking.
In his heart, the Old Captain’s gratitude toward Riku was beyond words. Riku’s actions had saved countless Santo Domingo folks, pushing the Captain’s own work forward massively. He’d been wondering how to repay that debt.
Problem was, Riku rarely needed his help, leaving the Captain unsure how to show his gratitude. Taking over the organic meat business before wasn’t exactly a favor—it was more like he got the better deal, gaining a new income stream and safer protein sources for the community.
Now, finally, Riku needed something, and the Old Captain was determined to step up. Compared to what Riku had done, this was nothing.
“Well, I won’t say no then,” Riku said with a grin, accepting the gift. This time, he’d brought back a ton of Rc cell suppressants, curing many more Santo Domingo folks. The Old Captain and the patients there were now his die-hard fans.
Saving lives was a big deal to most people, especially to those with a sense of loyalty. You save my life, I owe you mine—that kind of thing.
“If you ever need us, you better call!” the Old Captain said earnestly. Riku might not ask for anything, but they had to repay the favor. Plus, Riku’s abilities made the Captain think he was worth betting on. This guy wasn’t just some small fry—he might just become a true dragon.
Deep down, the Old Captain had a bit of a “revolutionary streak.” He believed one day people would take back the power that was rightfully theirs. That kind of thing needed unity and a strong leader. He didn’t think he was up for it, but Riku? Maybe he could pull it off.
“See ya,” Riku said, hopping into the Mizutani Hoon Wolf and waving goodbye to the Old Captain. He drove to Sasha’s place. This mission didn’t need V or Jack Welles tagging along—they weren’t necessary, and Night City needed people to hold down the fort.
But he’d bring hackers along, so Lucy and Sasha were coming. Riku picked up Sasha Yakovleva first.
“Hey, Devil! Nice ride. New one?” Sasha asked with a smile as she got in, thinking Riku would stick with his “turtle shell” Thorton for a long trip. That car was everywhere in Night City now—corpo dogs had caught on to its safety.
“Gift from the Old Captain. Better for a long haul,” Riku replied, chatting with Sasha as he drove to Lucy’s place. Soon, they picked up Lucy, who was waiting.
The Mizutani Hoon Wolf wasn’t exactly a people-carrier, but one guy and two girls could fit, though the girls had to squeeze a bit. Sasha and Lucy didn’t mind—they’d only known each other a short time but got along surprisingly well.
“We heading out now?” Lucy asked as she got in. Honestly, she didn’t have to join Riku’s personal errand, but since he invited her, she didn’t say no. Helping him out wasn’t a big deal, and it showed how much his charisma had grown.
“Yup, let’s go,” Riku said without hesitation, driving east. From Night City to Los Alamos, it was pretty much a straight shot eastward, no need to change course much.
With heat waves rising from the endless asphalt, the Mizutani Hoon Wolf tore through the badlands highway at full speed. The desert road was monotonous, lined with endless shrubs for hundreds of kilometers.
The Wolf’s speed left nomads in the dust. Anyone trying to intercept it would need serious prep—spur-of-the-moment raiders had no chance. By the time they reacted, the Wolf was long gone.
Riku’s control over his body, dynamic vision, and other abilities let him drive at max speed the whole way. It was like flying low to the ground.
The trip was smooth, and Riku drove the 1,600 kilometers in under six hours, arriving at Los Alamos.
“This place has been abandoned for ages,” Riku said as they hit a dusty, pothole-riddled road—practically a ghost road, reclaimed by sand, with only the occasional cracked asphalt peeking through.
Following the road, they reached a laboratory complex. “Los Alamos Laboratory” loomed ahead.
“This place is trashed,” Sasha remarked, unimpressed. It didn’t match the hype at all—it looked like it had been abandoned for decades.
Lucy was also surprised. It was in worse shape than the lab she’d escaped from, like a crumbling, neglected ruin.
“Not surprising. It’s over a hundred years old,” Riku said, unfazed. No matter how famous, it was an old building from a chaotic century. The U.S. had collapsed, and New Mexico was now a Free State.
Parking at the lab’s entrance, the trio got out. Los Alamos sprawled before them like a wounded beast, its vast grounds and tall buildings mostly collapsed.
They entered the complex, passing through a maze of security gates and warning signs. “Broken Hub” symbols—nuclear hazard warnings—were everywhere, signaling danger. Lucy and Sasha suited up with full nuclear protection and brought plenty of meds. Riku didn’t bother.
“Where to now?” Lucy asked. The place was a mess, and the collapsed buildings gave no clues about where nuclear warheads might be stored.
“PF-4, the supposed heart of America’s nuclear deterrence. Let me check the location,” Riku said, looking at Tars Santiago’s detailed marker. The journalist had been here thirty years ago, and the place hadn’t changed much.
They moved forward, stopping at a parking lot filled with rusted, abandoned cars.
“Found it. Building PF-4, the Plutonium Facility,” Riku confirmed. It was an unremarkable two-story brown building, blending in with the other nondescript structures, its size the only standout feature.
“Uh, so how do we get in?” Sasha asked, her eyes glinting as she scanned for nearby network signals—a good way to pinpoint targets. She and Lucy quickly hacked a few cameras and disabled some buzzing auto-turrets.
While the rest of the complex looked abandoned for decades, PF-4 was different. It had active defenses, suggesting they were on the right track.
“Through the front door,” Riku said, but instead of heading there, he approached a side door. The main entrance didn’t lead to the real lab.
The side door was sealed tight, covered in dust, untouched for years. It likely had an internal ecosystem, like a vault, able to function for centuries without opening.
“Hold on,” Riku said, sizing it up. He’d try finesse first, force later.
Shadows stirred at his feet. Though it was daytime, the sunlight was blocked here, letting him use his powers.
Buzz!
Shadows surged across the ground, slipping under the sealed door. Riku smirked, his body flickering as he appeared inside the lab.
“Made it,” he said, looking around the dim interior. No lights, but that didn’t hinder his vision. He quickly found the light switch and door controls.
Click.
The lights flicked on, and he hit the switch. The heavy door groaned open with a deep whirr.
“Your powers never stop being wild,” Sasha said as she and Lucy stepped inside, amazed yet again by Riku’s abilities.
“Someone’s coming,” Riku cut the chatter, hearing footsteps. Sasha and Lucy dove for cover—they didn’t have his tricks.
“Robots,” Riku said, recognizing the distinct clank-clank of metal steps.
Sure enough, a squad of armed robots charged in, opening fire without warning. No need for questions—Riku’s group were clearly intruders.
Buzz!
Riku flickered, appearing beside a robot. His hands shot out, grabbing it. Shadows enveloped the machine, converting it in seconds despite its size. Bullets from the other robots bounced off his shadow shield.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The converted robot, now a “shadow bot,” fired back, its bullets crackling with lightning. They hit the other robots, frying their circuits.
Riku flickered again, converting more robots with his “Hand of Shadow.” It was a perfect counter to machines—not considered “living” by his power’s rules. He wondered if true AI would be different.
Soon, a dozen shadow bots were clearing the way, guns blazing. Riku waved Sasha and Lucy to follow.
“…”
Sasha and Lucy were speechless, unsure how to react to Riku’s casual dominance.
“Signal’s stronger here. The lab’s probably shielding external signals,” Sasha said, joining Riku. She and Lucy traced the robots’ control signals.
“Let’s flush out whoever’s watching,” Riku said with a grin, betting the hidden observer was rattled.
“What the hell is this?!” Angel, who’d just lost several robot squads, was freaking out. What just happened?!
“What kind of weird power is that?!” she muttered. The man had simply reached out and taken control of her robots—no network hack, just that eerie black energy.
“Who are these people?” Angel sent a distress signal, but she wasn’t hopeful. The enemy was already inside, and help wouldn’t arrive in time.
She couldn’t be blamed—this was beyond her expectations, beyond comprehension.
Chapter 212: Muzan Kibutsuji, You’re Radiating
The entire Los Alamos Laboratory was practically guarded by robots. As Riku and his team pushed forward, they didn’t encounter a single living person—just an increasing number of robot guards, which Riku was steadily converting to his side.
“Hiss~ What is this? Shadow Hand’s Happy Lab?” Riku chuckled, half-amused, half-exasperated, as he looked at the rows of gun-wielding shadow robots in front of him. These guys were practically lining up to be taken over—he almost felt bad for not accepting the gift! It was clear from this alone that there probably weren’t many human guards in the lab. Otherwise, they wouldn’t keep sending robots in this situation.
“This is the place,” Lucy said, hacking two surveillance cameras as she and Sasha reached a massive alloy door. The door was tightly sealed, suggesting whoever was inside had either chickened out or run out of robot guards to throw at them.
“Hold on a sec,” Sasha said, working with Lucy to crack the door’s security system. Riku stood guard nearby, and the trio’s seamless teamwork had brought them this far without a hitch.
Whoever was inside must have been terrified, watching the cameras go dark one by one. By the time they managed to restore the feed, Riku’s team was already at the door—rendering their efforts useless. They could only watch as the intruders got closer.
Click.
The door opened, surprising both Sasha and Lucy. Their mouths hung open slightly, clearly confused by the situation.
“We didn’t open it. Someone inside did,” Sasha explained, though she didn’t need to. A woman stepped out from the open door.
She had long blonde hair, a tall and striking figure, and an air of seasoned maturity. A oversized tool belt hung loosely around her waist, paired with a black sleeveless top that showed off her midriff and navel, and silver leather pants.
“Come in. No need to bother with the door,” the blonde woman said, her tone resigned, as if she’d already accepted her fate. She knew that door wouldn’t stop these people.
The trio hadn’t even needed to exert much effort—they’d strolled in, joking along the way. The lab’s prized robot guard legion had been utterly useless, entirely taken over by the other side. These robots were equipped with Arasaka’s cutting-edge “ICE defense system,” but in front of this man, it was as fragile as if it didn’t exist. His strange black power effortlessly stripped her control over the robots without giving her a chance to fight back.
She didn’t know which faction these people belonged to, but she knew one thing: in the face of such power, robot guards were now meaningless. Any place relying on hordes of robot defenders was essentially defenseless against whoever wielded this ability. This power could change the game.
Riku sent the shadow robots in first to secure the area, then followed with Sasha and Lucy. Beyond the door was a spacious workshop, like something out of an old factory, with a distinct retro vibe. The shadow robots quickly took control of the few remaining robot guards inside.
“You’re Anjīru?” Riku asked, scanning the surroundings before addressing the blonde woman.
The workshop was fairly tidy, but one thing stood out like a sore thumb: a massive holographic image of Jonī Silverhand, set in a niche filled with virtual candles and concert memorabilia. It was practically a cyber-shrine. Clearly, this Anjīru wasn’t shy about her “superfan” status.
“You know me?” Anjīru’s expression was one of surprise. She hadn’t expected these strangers to recognize her—she had no memory of them.
“Tasu Santiago, Rirāya, Samantha—ring any bells?” Riku asked with a sly smile. His words immediately made Anjīru’s face change. Those names were tied to one thing: the “nuke” transported here over thirty years ago.
“You’re here for that nuke?” Anjīru forced herself to stay calm, frowning as she gave the trio an incredulous look. “You’re way too late. That thing was neutralized ages ago,” she said, shaking her head, implying that after thirty years, there was nothing left to find.
“Devil, there’s a hidden room over there,” Nekoneko Lady said after she and Lucy scouted the workshop. They’d found a concealed door, and she quickly came to report it to Riku.
The workshop had plenty of doors leading to various parts of the lab, most of them open for easy access. But this one was hidden behind equipment, nearly impossible to spot without a thorough search.
“Open it up and take a look,” Riku said, glancing at Anjīru. Her expression soured immediately, suggesting there was something in there she didn’t want seen.
“You’re after the nuke, right? Follow me,” Anjīru said, her face grim. To protect her secrets, she suddenly became cooperative. Duty? Conscience? Those clearly took a backseat to her own concerns.
“Tch~” Riku clicked his tongue. He could guess what was hidden in there, but frankly, he was more interested in the nuke. He wasn’t some Jonī Silverhand superfan.
“Follow me,” Anjīru said, relieved that Riku wasn’t pressing the hidden door issue. She led him to where the nukes were stored.
“They’re all small-yield tactical nukes, leftovers from the past. Take a look. This is all we’ve got. If you’ve got the means, you could build your own anyway,” Anjīru said matter-of-factly, leading Riku to a warehouse. It was unremarkable, as the nukes were stored in special containers—various-sized boxes covered in numbers, letters, and countless Japanese terms. The most prominent feature was a large yellow-and-black radiation warning symbol in the center of each.
Riku inspected them. The largest box was about 1.6 meters long and 80 centimeters wide. “This is the biggest one we have. The one we dismantled before was larger—2.4 meters long, 1.2 meters wide, a real beast. But you’re too late. That one didn’t survive,” Anjīru emphasized, as if to say, Stop looking—the one from thirty years ago is gone!
“Not a bad yield,” Riku remarked. Tactical nukes were known for being small, lightweight, highly mobile, and precise, but their explosive power paled compared to strategic nukes. Yields of tens, hundreds, or thousands of tons were standard, with megaton-level ones being rare. The one in front of him was at least in the tens-of-thousands-of-tons range, a giant compared to the smaller ones nearby. For reference, “Fat Man,” the WWII nuke, was 3.25 meters long, 1.5 meters wide, with a 20,000-ton yield.
Of course, these were old models with exaggerated yield-to-weight ratios. “Fat Man” was 4.5 tons per kiloton—pretty inefficient even compared to nukes from a few decades ago. A 20,000-ton yield wasn’t even that impressive anymore, barely qualifying as a tactical nuke. But at 4.5 tons and that size, it was far from portable. Who’d lug something like that on a mission?
Decades ago, modern thermonuclear weapons with yields over 100,000 tons had yield-to-weight ratios of 1,000 to 3,000 tons per kilogram—hundreds of times better than “Fat Man.”
The tactical nuke that blew up Arasaka Tower in 2023 wasn’t large or particularly heavy. Morgan Blackhand’s team carried it while fighting, though it felt a bit cumbersome. Its power, though, was no joke. That explosion killed over 500,000 people directly, with another 250,000 dying from subsequent disasters. Long-term radiation displaced over 2 million, forcing Night City into decades of rebuilding.
From this, Riku could tell that nuke’s yield wasn’t small. His eyes gleamed. These nukes were likely from the same era, maybe a bit older, but their yields were probably in the hundreds or thousands of tons at least.
“Muzan Kibutsuji, you’re radiating,” Riku said with a grin, immediately storing the nuke containers in his shadow space, his smile stretching ear to ear.
With these tactical nukes in his pocket, his destructive power had skyrocketed. He now held the strength to level a city—a true Anti-City Noble Phantasm, ready to obliterate something like the Infinite Castle.
“What are you planning to do with these nukes?” Anjīru asked, her conscience finally stirring. If Riku was a terrorist, handing over these nukes would make her complicit in an unforgivable crime.
“Relax, I’m taking out the trash for the people,” Riku said, glancing at her. She wasn’t a bad person, just a bit obsessive. She’d stayed here guarding these nukes to keep them out of the wrong hands. The lab had been working on neutralizing and dismantling them, which explained why only these smaller tactical nukes remained—the bigger ones had either been shipped out or dismantled.
“Taking out the trash… for the people?” Anjīru’s heart sank. That didn’t sound like something a law-abiding person would say. Taking out the trash? That usually meant targeting the big corporations.
“Mr. Devil, think about Night City after the Arasaka Tower blast. You need to think twice. A nuke does next to nothing to Arasaka, but its harm to the city lingers even now. Night City folks still need radiation shields—that’s the terrifying power of a nuke,” Anjīru couldn’t help but warn. If Devil used these nukes for something like the Arasaka Tower incident, the blood of hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, would be on her hands.
“Chill, I’m not that extreme. Blowing up an Arasaka Tower won’t solve anything. The world’s problems can’t be fixed by nuking one corporate branch—unless you could nuke all the corporations at once,” Riku said with a laugh, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to repeat Jonī Silverhand’s stunt, gambling with millions of lives. He wasn’t that guy.
The Jonī Silverhand from Rogu’s story was far more likable than the one from rumors or his own fabricated memories. First, he wasn’t the maniac who killed nearly a million people with a nuke. Second, he stepped up to face Adamu Heavyhammer, buying time for his friends to escape—a true act of loyalty and courage, way cooler than blowing up Arasaka Tower.
“Nuke all the corporations at once…” Anjīru’s eyes filled with fear. This guy’s ideas were terrifying. He wouldn’t actually do it, would he? That’d be a catastrophe.
“Devil, you still want to check out that hidden door?” Lucy asked, reminding him. She was clearly still curious about their earlier discovery.
“Let’s take a look. What if she’s hiding something juicy? This is Los Alamos Lab, a top nuclear facility before the Great Collapse. No way they’re left with just these scraps,” Sasha said sharply, staring at Anjīru. The woman’s nervous expression only confirmed her suspicions—there was definitely something fishy behind that door. Nekoneko Detective was certain of it. She grabbed Lucy and headed to open it.
Riku wasn’t eager to publicly expose Anjīru’s peculiar hobbies, but since Lucy and Sasha were so insistent, he had no reason to object. Anjīru looked like her soul had left her body, clearly dreading what was coming.
With Lucy and Sasha working together, the hidden door was quickly opened. But as they stepped into the secret room, both froze in place, their excitement turning to shock.
The first thing they saw was a bed—plush, luxurious, and comfortable-looking. But that wasn’t the main attraction. Next to it was a peculiar device, like a cryogenic coffin filled with blue-white ice crystals. Inside lay the figure of a man.
Chapter 213: Trading Arasaka Michiko for Johnny Silverhand
The man in the ice coffin had a rigid, ashen face. Sasha and Lucy exchanged glances, clearly thinking this was some ancient corpse.
“Yo, isn’t that Keanu Reeves?” Riku said, leaning in and instantly recognizing the familiar face. The body had obviously been dressed up and preserved meticulously, looking almost pristine despite being decades old.
“Keanu Reeves? Who’s that?” Angel asked, thrown off by Riku’s comment. Where did that name come from?
“You didn’t think Johnny Silverhand was his real name, did you?” Riku said with a smirk. Of course, Johnny Silverhand wasn’t his birth name. His real name was Robert John Linder, changed after he deserted during the Second Central American War.
As he spoke, Riku opened the ice coffin. Compressed air hissed out, releasing a cold mist with an overpowering, almost pungent fragrance. Clearly, Angel had added that scent.
“You’re not that devoted. Corpse stench is part of his original charm, you know,” Riku teased, stepping back and waving away the smell. Even for him, a fifty-year-old corpse was a bit much, no matter how well-preserved or frozen.
“Don’t be so creepy,” Angel snapped, looking uncomfortable, as if Riku’s words were too much for her.
Says the person who keeps a corpse in an ice coffin by her bed. Who’s the real creep here?
“You just keep him by your bedside?” Sasha asked, incredulous and struggling to wrap her head around it. What kind of love was this?
“…” Lucy took a step back, her lips pursed, giving Angel a look of utter bewilderment.
“That’s right. This is my love,” Angel said, stepping to the coffin and gently touching the corpse’s ashen face. Her voice was calm, like she was stating a simple fact, her expression full of affection as she gazed at the body.
“Hiss~” Sasha and Lucy both gasped, stunned. This woman was definitely not right in the head. No normal person would do this!
“Your love? Does he know that?” Riku asked, his expression odd. Talk about forcing your love on someone—Johnny Silverhand couldn’t exactly object in his current state.
Johnny Silverhand wasn’t exactly a model citizen—hardly the kind of guy who’d win awards for morals or loyalty. Even with a girlfriend, he’d hook up with joytoys for fun. Casual flings weren’t surprising, but calling it “love”? That was a stretch.
“Of course he knows!” Angel insisted, clearly convinced that she and Johnny Silverhand shared true love. Alt Cunningham? Just a third wheel.
“Tch, you’re something else,” Riku said, shaking his head. Johnny Silverhand was lucky to have such a die-hard fan—truly devoted, even beyond death.
Seeing Angel like this, Riku felt a mischievous urge. What would this obsessive fan do if she learned Johnny Silverhand’s consciousness had been uploaded to Mikoshi? Would she still have the guts to face Arasaka’s power, despite claiming he was her “true love”?
“You ever hear of Arasaka’s ‘Secure Your Soul’ project?” Riku asked. The project was well-known, and even if Angel didn’t keep up with the outside world, she’d likely heard of it, especially since this was Arasaka territory.
“I’ve heard of it. Why?” Angel replied, frowning. She knew about the project—Arasaka Michiko had mentioned it to her. She also knew it was tied to that “bitch” Alt Cunningham’s tech.
“Good, then this’ll be easy to explain. Johnny Silverhand’s consciousness is currently stored in that project’s database, locked away in a network prison called Mikoshi,” Riku said with a sly smile, confirming that Angel clearly hadn’t known this.
“What?!” Angel’s eyes widened, as if she’d just heard the ravings of an ancient god. Her mind went blank, unable to process it.
“Is that true?!” She stepped away from the coffin, instinctively moving closer to Riku, her face lighting up with a mix of joy and madness.
“Absolutely true,” Riku said, subtly stepping back but giving her a firm nod.
“It’s real! It’s real!” Angel lost it, practically vibrating with excitement. Her reaction was so intense it was hard to know what to make of it.
“She’s got some serious issues,” Sasha muttered to Lucy, giving a blunt assessment that Lucy silently agreed with. This woman was unhinged.
“Wait—Arasaka Michiko is coming with her people. You guys need to leave,” Angel suddenly said, as if she’d made a tough decision.
“You should go too. Take your ‘love’ with you. You’ve been cooperative, so I’ll let you live. Get out while you can,” Riku said, almost impressed. Angel was smart enough to play along, so sparing her—a minor “freak”—wasn’t a big deal.
“No, I’m staying,” Angel replied, resolute. She’d clearly made up her mind about what she wanted to do.
“Oh? You lost a ton of nukes, and you’re sticking around?” Riku narrowed his eyes. Was she about to do something reckless?
Losing that many nukes would put Angel, as the overseer, in deep trouble. Execution would be the least of her worries—Arasaka might suspect her of treason and interrogate her brutally. Most people would run, but Angel wasn’t most people. She was Johnny Silverhand’s obsessive fan, the kind who slept next to his corpse and called it love. Now, knowing he was “alive,” all she could think about was saving him.
“I’ll capture Arasaka Michiko and trade her for my love,” Angel declared, not hiding her plan from Riku, who’d shared the news and spared her life.
“Hiss~” Sasha and Lucy gasped again. This woman had some serious guts to even think of something so bold!
Lucy had her own grudge against Arasaka. Raised as one of their “mining” netrunners, she’d been treated as expendable. If she hadn’t escaped, she’d likely be dead from countless “mining ops.” It was a deep hatred, but even she hadn’t considered holding Arasaka Michiko hostage to strike a blow.
This was a big move. Michiko Arasaka was third in line for Arasaka’s succession, with a decent following. As the eldest daughter of Saburo Arasaka’s eldest son, her claim was strong. Unfortunately, Saburo despised her for her Japanese-American mother, given his hatred for Americans—especially Japanese-Americans. When Michiko was born, her father, Kei Arasaka, hid her from Saburo, who even held U.S. citizenship against her. After the Fourth Corporate War, when Arasaka withdrew from the Americas, Michiko stayed, cutting ties cleanly and surviving as a pro-American figure with limited support within Arasaka.
“You’re overestimating yourself and underestimating Arasaka Michiko,” Riku said, his mouth twitching. It was a nice plan, but Angel pulling it off alone? Near impossible. Michiko wouldn’t come alone.
“She trusts me. If I can get her alone, I can take her,” Angel said confidently. She believed that if she could hold Michiko hostage, others would hesitate to act, giving her leverage to get what she wanted.
“If you give me back those robot guards, my odds would be better,” she added, glancing at Riku.
“Sorry, they’re mine now,” Riku said, shaking his head. His shadow bots were immune to hacking and fully loyal to him.
Angel nodded, not pressing further. She hadn’t expected him to return them anyway.
Riku exchanged a look with Sasha and Lucy, ready to leave. They needed to get the girls out first—if they got trapped here, things could get messy. Riku could always come back alone to watch the chaos unfold.
“Good luck,” Riku said as they left, though he doubted Angel would succeed.
“Thanks,” Angel replied, brimming with confidence.
Riku, Sasha, and Lucy exited the lab quickly, facing no resistance. They soon reached the Mizutani Hoon Wolf parked outside.
“I’ll check things out later. You two get to safety,” Riku said, starting the car and driving the girls to a safe spot. Sasha and Lucy understood.
“Be careful. Michiko’s definitely bringing a lot of people,” Sasha warned. Riku was strong, but if Michiko showed up with a professional army, it’d be tougher than Night City’s corporate security. Out here, they wouldn’t hesitate to use heavy weapons.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got nukes too,” Riku said with a wink. As long as he wasn’t caught in direct sunlight, he couldn’t die—but flesh-and-blood humans weren’t so lucky.
After dropping Sasha and Lucy off outside Los Alamos, Riku got out and headed back to the lab alone, using Shadow Leap for speed.
He didn’t meet Angel again. Instead, he activated his optical camouflage and lurked in the lab’s shadows, waiting for Arasaka Michiko.
Soon, Michiko arrived with her rescue team. Heavily armed soldiers stormed the lab, securing every corner.
Michiko strode in, her loyal bodyguard Masaki at her side, never far.
“Angel, what the hell happened?” Michiko asked, eyeing Angel, who was restrained by soldiers. She was puzzled—no signs of a fight, yet the nukes were gone. If there was no intrusion, where were they?
“Michiko, let’s talk alone,” Angel said, unfazed despite being held by samurai-armored Arasaka soldiers. She locked eyes with Michiko, pushing for a private conversation.
“…” Michiko stared at Angel, her ageless face showing a mix of amusement and suspicion.
A Stanford criminology grad, Michiko had built Danger Girl, a top-tier private investigation firm, from scratch. She’d solved countless tough cases, earning her a reputation as a true detective with sharp observation and judgment.
From Angel’s expression, movements, and words, Michiko sensed something was very wrong. This woman was planning something dangerous.
“Masaki, handle it,” Michiko said to her bodyguard, unwilling to interrogate Angel herself. They’d known each other too long.
“Yes, ma’am,” Masaki replied curtly, grabbing a shocked Angel and heading for a room to start questioning.
“Wait! Michiko! Give me a chance! I’ll tell you everything!” Angel pleaded, still trying to get that private moment, but Michiko ignored her.
“Tch, told you it wouldn’t be that easy,” Riku muttered from his shadowed corner, unsurprised.
Chapter 214: You Have No Choice, Mrs. Sanderson
Miss Michiko Arasaka, the sharp-witted detective, isn’t someone you can easily fool. Here’s a fun fact: Michiko Arasaka is a true post-2000s kid, born in 2008, making her a sprightly sixty-something this year. Yep, you heard that right—this Arasaka heiress is still rocking that youthful, vibrant bishoujo vibe.
And no, this isn’t a joke. At over sixty, Michiko Arasaka still exudes an irresistible charm. Her innocent, carefree spirit and dazzling charisma have always been her trademarks, carrying the same world-conquering energy she had in her youth.
Beneath that elegant, adorable exterior, though, lies a terrifying woman who, as a mere teenager, carved her way through chaos to survive. Those sparkling eyes hide a razor-sharp mind.
“So, what makes this Angel chick think she can manipulate Michiko Arasaka just by earning her trust?” Riku muttered, scanning their surroundings.
Arasaka soldiers patrolled the area, clad in their signature samurai-armor-style uniforms. They looked bizarre—only Arasaka’s troops would sport such a unique aesthetic.
“Miss Michiko, there’s a hidden room here,” one of the soldiers reported.
Before Riku could make a move, the soldiers had already uncovered a secret chamber. Clearly, this place hadn’t been thoroughly searched before, and even Michiko Arasaka was unaware of its existence until now.
The soldiers cleared the obstacles, and Michiko approached the door. A hacker stepped forward, swiftly unlocking it.
The group entered, only to be met with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Angel had gone to great lengths to hide… a bedroom? The room was unmistakably hers, filled with memorabilia tied to Johnny Silverhand. Talk about a hardcore fangirl.
“Hm?” Michiko’s eyes narrowed as she studied the floor, her expression tinged with suspicion. She was looking at the spot where an ice coffin had once been.
Though Riku had stashed the coffin in his shadow space and taken it away, the marks of its long-term placement were obvious. With Michiko’s keen observation skills, there was no way she’d miss it.
“Moved recently,” she murmured, frowning. She couldn’t quite connect the dots—did this have anything to do with the missing nuke?
“Any results from the search outside?” Michiko asked the soldiers nearby, who were busy hunting for intruders.
“There’s a trail from a car—a sedan,” one reported.
The detail didn’t raise much alarm. A sedan couldn’t possibly transport those nukes; you’d need something massive, like a Behemoth truck.
“Investigate it,” Michiko ordered. Though she shared their skepticism, with all other leads dried up, they had to chase every loose end. Sometimes, the most unlikely possibility turns out to be the truth.
“What about Masaki? Still no progress?” she asked, referring to her bodyguard interrogating Angel. She hadn’t expected Angel to hold out this long under Masaki’s questioning. A pampered researcher like her should’ve cracked quickly—most people couldn’t endure that kind of pain.
Michiko strode toward the room where Masaki was interrogating Angel. But the moment she reached the door, her expression shifted. A tentacle lashed out, yanking her inside.
The soldiers outside didn’t even have time to react. By the time they activated their Sandevistans, the doorway was sealed by a black wall, impervious to their frantic attempts to break through.
Inside, the tentacle retracted, and Michiko steadied herself. She took in the scene: Angel stood to the side, her face pale with terror, while Masaki, her bodyguard, was pinned to the floor by several black tentacles, unconscious.
“Hello, Miss Michiko Arasaka,” a man said, standing beside Angel and Masaki. He wore a fox mask, with two curved goat horns sprouting from his head. Michiko recognized him instantly.
“Devo Collins,” she said, her heart sinking. If this guy had taken the nukes, the world was in serious trouble. He wasn’t just a terrorist—he was an absurdly powerful one.
From Michiko’s perspective, anyone causing trouble outside the corporate sphere was a terrorist, and Riku? He was the terrorist among terrorists.
“The name Michiko Arasaka hasn’t been mine for a long time. Call me Michiko Sanderson,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. She tried to engage him, knowing her escape routes were blocked. For now, talking was her only option.
The soldiers outside were still trying to break through the black wall, but until they succeeded, she had to stay alive. Michiko wasn’t a fighter—she relied on her charm and sharp intellect.
“No problem, Mrs. Sanderson,” Riku said with a nod, recalling that this granddaughter of Saburo Arasaka was the only one of the three heirs to marry. Her husband, Mark Sanderson, was a detective and her partner in their company, Danger Girl. When Michiko cut ties with Arasaka, she’d gone all in, even changing her name to Michiko Sanderson.
“You! You’re that Devo Collins!” Angel stammered, her voice trembling with fear. Clearly, she knew the name too. The Securicine painkiller scandal had made waves, involving N54 News, Biotechnica, and a massive battle that shook the world. It wasn’t just Night City—thanks to N54’s nationwide reach, the story had spread across America.
Angel was overwhelmed, her mind struggling to process the chaos. She hadn’t realized that Devo Collins was the same Riku who’d left earlier—their appearances were just too different.
“Take a break,” Riku said, glancing at Angel. With a swift strike, he knocked her out cold. She was no longer useful to him. Now, his focus was on Michiko.
“The nukes… did you take them, Mr. Collins?” Michiko asked, cutting straight to her biggest concern.
She didn’t know how many nukes remained in Los Alamos, but there were enough to destroy cities—not the world, perhaps, but more than enough to wreak havoc. The thought of a corporate-hating terrorist like him with that kind of power was chilling. Arasaka would almost certainly be a target.
Michiko had rejoined Arasaka and now sat on its board, leading the company’s dovish faction. While she didn’t feel much loyalty to Arasaka, she had no desire to relive the horror of another nuclear explosion. The last one, when she was just a teenager, had taken everything from her, forcing a young girl to shoulder burdens no one her age should bear. She wasn’t a saint—she just despised reckless terrorists who acted without considering the consequences.
“That’s not important,” Riku said, waving off the topic. “What matters is this, Miss Michiko—Mrs. Sanderson. Do you want true immortality?”
The question caught her off guard, her brow furrowing. Immortality? That came out of nowhere.
“Immortality? You mean like Secure Your Soul?” she asked.
As an Arasaka heiress—albeit the least favored of the three—she still had access to certain secrets. The Secure Your Soul program was a hit among the elite. For regular folks, it was a way to “talk” to deceased loved ones through digital souls. For the powerful, it promised a form of eternal life, preserving their consciousness as a digital ghost.
But Michiko only knew the surface level. The true secret—Relic 2.0, a project aiming for actual resurrection—was beyond even her clearance.
“No, not that. That’s too basic,” Riku scoffed. “Turning your soul into code and calling it immortality? I don’t buy it.”
Uploading a soul to the net was just creating an AI that mimicked your personality—a cold string of code following a script. To Riku, that wasn’t true immortality.
“Then what? Physical immortality? Eternal youth? Never dying?” Michiko’s expression turned skeptical. This was starting to sound like something out of a fantasy anime.
“Exactly,” Riku said with a grin. In his hand, a drop of glowing red blood materialized, radiating an eerie allure.
“Accept this power, and you’ll achieve true immortality.”
His voice took on a deep, almost demonic tone, like a villain from a shonen anime tempting the hero. But his persuasion wasn’t particularly strong, and Michiko easily resisted the allure.
“Can I say no?” she asked, unconvinced. The pitch sounded sketchy, and she wasn’t buying it, no matter how dramatic he made it.
“Of course,” Riku replied. “But if you could bring your grandfather here, I’d much rather offer this power to him. Saburo Arasaka, the true master of the Arasaka empire—he’s the one I really want. He’s the only one worthy.”
His words were blunt. Michiko was impressive, but compared to Saburo Arasaka? She wasn’t even close. Over the past century, Saburo had been a titan, transforming a small family business into a global powerhouse. Love him or hate him, his ambition and ability were undeniable.
“Sorry, I can’t do that,” Michiko said flatly. She knew calling Saburo was impossible. Even if she died here, that old man wouldn’t bat an eye. She wasn’t her aunt, Hanako Arasaka.
“Then I guess I’ll settle for you. Your skills are… decent enough,” Riku said with a shrug. He hadn’t really planned to offer Saburo immortality anyway—it was just talk. Saburo’s past as a war criminal during World War II crossed a line Riku wouldn’t ignore. Plus, a man like Saburo would never accept being under someone else’s thumb, even for immortality.
Michiko opened her mouth to respond, but Riku didn’t give her the chance. With a hum, the drop of glowing blood shot toward her, slipping into her mouth and merging into her body before she could react.
[Ding! Successfully converted special ghost servant “Michiko Arasaka.”]
[Ding! Gained special trait “Socialite.”]
“Socialite”: Charm effects increased by 5% in public social settings.
To Riku’s surprise, Michiko wasn’t just any ghost servant—she came with a rare percentage-based ability.
Chapter 215: Prematurely Detonating Arasaka’s Big Bomb
The “Socialite” trait isn’t exactly a game-changer in combat, but since it’s a percentage-based stat boost, it’s not completely useless either.
Traits don’t have a cap, so as long as they’re not negative, the more the merrier.
Riku has experienced firsthand the difference that high or low Charisma can make. He knows it can come in handy in certain situations. Right now, it’s not doing much for him, but that’s mainly because his stats aren’t high enough yet to reach “succubus” levels of charm.
“What did you do to me?!”
Arasaka Michiko’s mind snapped back to clarity. As a renowned detective, she immediately pieced together what had happened to her, but she couldn’t accept it. She refused to accept it!
Since her teens, she’d been walking on thin ice, clawing her way up. Now, after nearly fifty years, she’d built everything she had.
She was the ruler of “Dangerous Girl,” a top-tier private investigation firm, and one of Arasaka’s heirs. Her dovish faction was on the rise. In the global pecking order, her status was undeniably top-tier. And at just under seventy years old, she was still in her prime for someone of her class.
Her grandfather, Arasaka Saburo, was still kicking at 156 years old. That old man had survived severe injuries in his youth and dragged Arasaka back from the brink after their defeat in 2023, despite his failing health. He’d poured his heart and soul into it, yet he was still alive.
By comparison, Michiko had grown up in luxury, healthy and unscathed, with a much stronger foundation than Saburo ever had. With technology advancing, living to 156 was a given—she might even hit 170 or 200. Who could predict the future?
So, the allure of “eternal life” wasn’t that tempting to her. Losing everything to become a servant whose life and death were controlled by another? That was utterly unacceptable to Arasaka Michiko.
And this so-called “eternal life” came with a steep price. She’d have to eat rust to survive! Rust! How could anyone live off that?! To her, this was the most unbearable part—it was like being told to die!
This “eternal life” and “power” were nothing but lies. She could only eat rust; any other food would make her weaker, her stomach churning like a stormy sea. It was a trait that left her no way to survive!
“No need to worry about that. Eat, and it’ll take care of your body’s needs. Your cells will absorb the nutrients on their own,” Riku said, seeing through Michiko’s concerns. He explained bluntly that those taken into the [Servant] page of the [Limit System] didn’t need to sweat the details. It might seem illogical, but the [Limit System] handled everything.
This “Pica” trait meant she could eat “foreign food” to satisfy hunger, but that was it. For actual growth, only real human flesh would do.
For example, Riku drank coffee all the time but never gained any growth from it—just satisfaction. However, he could use coffee or other “foreign foods” to replenish energy for his body’s needs.
In Michiko’s case, her “Rust Eating Syndrome” let her eat rust to curb hunger and restore energy after exertion.
Clearly, the bodies of these ghost servants were modified to fit his rules—the rules of the [Limit System]. Science? That didn’t apply here.
“Is this even scientific?!” Michiko stammered, her worldview shattered and rebuilt. The world itself felt different now.
“Forget science. Just eat,” Riku said, rolling his eyes. Eternal life, and she’s worried about science? This wasn’t science—it was Ke-ology. The logic of Riku.
“…”
Michiko fell silent. If it was like that, this deal suddenly seemed a bit more appealing. Eternal life, after all.
Still, for Michiko personally, being controlled by someone else was unthinkable. She might’ve agreed verbally, but deep down, she was already scheming how to break free from Riku’s grip.
Wanting all the benefits without paying the price—that’s human nature. Everyone’s like that.
“Use your connections to quietly recruit more people to our side,” Riku told her. This was Michiko’s main task. With deep ties to “Militech” and “Arasaka,” and a strong presence in high society’s social circles, Michiko was the perfect tool for infiltrating the elite.
Her status and charisma made her ideal for pulling in influential figures. She’d be far more effective than someone like Wazumi Tsuneji.
The only downside? Her loyalty. Michiko wasn’t like Wazumi Tsuneji, who’d give his all. She might slack off or half-ass it, like Muzan Kibutsuji’s underlings in Demon Slayer.
“Five years. Do well, and you’ll be rewarded. Fail, and you’ll face endless torment,” Riku said, setting a five-year deadline. But he knew Michiko would likely spend those years trying to escape his control rather than working hard to please him.
“Yes,” Michiko replied calmly, her true thoughts hidden. She could keep a poker face while her mind churned—a skill she’d honed well.
“Don’t even think about betraying me or digging into the secrets of this power. I see and hear everything. If you try, this power will end your life,” Riku warned slowly. Controlling life and death wasn’t a joke. He couldn’t force absolute loyalty, but he could make disloyalty deadly.
“…”
Michiko bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. He’d seen right through her.
“I understand,” she said, bowing her head. For now, she had no choice but to submit. Five years was plenty of time—she’d find a way out. Riku couldn’t watch her every second. She’d test the waters, bit by bit. She wasn’t giving up that easily.
“Contact your uncle, Arasaka Yorinobu, and investigate RELIC 2.0 together. It’s Arasaka Saburo’s immortality plan, and Yorinobu is his chosen vessel. Make Yorinobu see that so he’ll take action,” Riku said, assigning her a tailored task. She could slack on other jobs, but this one left no room for excuses.
By using Michiko to reach Yorinobu and expose RELIC 2.0, Riku aimed to stir the pot. Saburo was running out of time and couldn’t wait for the next generation. Yorinobu, his youngest son, was the clear heir for the RELIC 2.0 plan.
Arasaka Hanako, Saburo’s daughter, lacked ambition and valued family too much to fight her brother for power. She and Yorinobu were close. Michiko, despite her position, lacked the internal support to challenge Yorinobu due to past betrayals against Arasaka to secure her place in New America. Her reacceptance into the family already ruffled feathers.
Unless Yorinobu or Hanako died, Michiko had no shot at becoming the heir. Once Saburo passed, Yorinobu would likely take control—unless Saburo “woke up” in Yorinobu’s body via RELIC 2.0.
There were many ways to “wake up.” One was exploiting Hanako’s personality, a backup plan if Saburo died unexpectedly.
“RELIC 2.0? Resurrection? An immortality plan?” Michiko froze, clearly clueless. Who was the real Arasaka here? How did this guy know more about her family than she did?
“RELIC 2.0 is a biochip that stores a digital soul. Insert it into a target, kill them, and the soul revives in their body,” Riku explained briefly. Michiko instantly grasped the implications and why she was tasked with contacting Yorinobu.
“That old fossil actually made something like this…” Michiko muttered, imagining Yorinobu’s rage upon learning the truth. Saburo had gone too far.
She felt she could take on this task. She wanted to see Yorinobu and Saburo tear into each other. To control Arasaka, she’d need Yorinobu, Hanako, and Saburo out of the picture.
“I’ll do it,” she said sincerely. Riku nodded, pleased. As an unexpected bonus, Michiko was a near-perfect tool. But if she tried anything funny, he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate her.
He didn’t believe she’d expose her condition to others for study. That’d be like a sheep walking into a tiger’s den. Without overwhelming strength, revealing her uniqueness would only lead to disaster. Given what Saburo was capable of in his quest for immortality, Michiko would likely end up a lab rat—or worse, begging Riku to kill her.
As for recruiting Saburo? Michiko didn’t even consider it. She couldn’t imagine him bowing to anyone, even for eternal life. For him, that’d be worse than death.
“Do well,” Riku said, his figure melting into the shadows.
“…”
Michiko stood stunned, feeling like a lifetime had passed in mere moments. She sighed deeply.
The shadow wall vanished, and soldiers rushed in, relieved to see her unharmed.
Click.
Michiko took a gun from a soldier, aiming at the unconscious Angel and her bodyguard, Masaki.
“…”
After a moment’s hesitation, she lowered the weapon. No need. They didn’t know what she’d become. Masaki had been with her for decades—longer than even her husband. She couldn’t just kill him.
“Withdraw,” she ordered, tossing the gun to a soldier. They carried Angel and Masaki out, and a medic treated Masaki, pulling him out of danger.
As she walked, Michiko planned her next move. Using the missing Los Alamos nuke as an excuse, she’d contact Yorinobu and kick off the RELIC 2.0 investigation. She was finally taking the task seriously.
(End of Chapter)
