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🕑 Added 2025-07-27 17:35:10 +0000 UTCChapter 256: Eradicating the Blade Chaos Gang
With the mana furnace core serving as a power source, the homunculi sprang into action. They immediately began planning a concealment system for the castle's perimeter, setting up defensive courtyard walls.
Of course, the main trick was the genjutsu array—an illusion barrier designed to make anyone approaching the castle instinctively detour, unable to find the real path. The entire castle would be completely hidden within a kekkai (barrier).
Thanks to Director Ken’s generous sponsorship of the mana furnace core, which churned out a steady stream of mana, this plan wasn’t just a pipe dream. Without it, none of this would’ve been possible.
The homunculi weren’t too affected by the world’s lack of Great Source Mana. Even without the furnace core supplying them with mana, they carried on as usual, doing what they were made to do.
The elite among the homunculi were equipped with magic circuits and vitality, allowing them to generate their own mana. This kept the castle running and enabled the production of more homunculi.
As products of the Third Magic, not every homunculus was a freak like Justeaze or Sieg, nor were they all special cases like Irisviel or Illya. But it was the unassuming “cogs in the machine” that kept the Einzbern workshop humming along, endlessly churning out homunculi to sustain this magic workshop now populated solely by artificial beings.
The carefully crafted homunculi had better magical aptitude and more developed personalities. The mass-produced ones, though? They were a different story—lacking in magical talent and with personalities so basic they were practically NPCs, only capable of simple, scripted responses. These types clearly weren’t suited for emotional bonding.
But these NPC-like mass-produced homunculi had their strengths. For one, they were workhorses. Once given an order, they’d keep at it until it was done or they broke down—true uma (horse) levels of dedication.
As combatants, these NPCs were also effective. They had no morale gauge to worry about, followed orders to the letter, and fought wherever they were pointed. Even if they were wiped out, there’d be no morale collapse.
Riku had seen this firsthand. After all, he’d taken out the last batch himself. Now, this new batch was working for him.
The homunculi currently toiling away were clearly the NPC type. Only a few, tasked with directing and coordinating, had slightly more developed personalities. But none had awakened self-awareness—something homunculi rarely achieved. Most were just expendable tools.
“Are these… not people?” Lucy asked, watching the expressionless homunculi at work. The sight made everyone turn to Riku.
Though they had human faces and bodies, a closer look revealed something off—almost uncanny, like they were caught in the uncanny valley. They looked human but weren’t, and it was unsettling.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Riku said with a strange expression. “For now, they’re not people. But whether they’ll count as people later? That’s harder to say.”
He knew Lucy, Sasha, and the others wouldn’t get it right away, so he racked his brain for a way to explain.
“What do you mean, ‘hard to say’?” V asked, scratching her head in confusion. She wasn’t exactly a scholar, but she wasn’t dumb either. Wasn’t it simple? Either they were people, or they weren’t. How could there be a third option?
“Think of it like this,” Riku said, choosing his words carefully. “Right now, they’re like a bunch of robots controlled by an AI. Each one’s like a subroutine. But just like an AI can awaken, these subroutines might awaken too, becoming fully independent individuals.”
He figured this was a way they’d understand, though it reminded him a bit of Delamain. On second thought, though, there were key differences.
Once a homunculus awakened, it broke free from the “server” and became a truly independent entity with physical freedom. If they escaped, they could go anywhere. Unlike Delamain’s “children,” who were still under his oversight and could be suppressed, homunculi awakenings were unpredictable and uncontrollable.
An awakened homunculus might even play along, pretending to be loyal while secretly planning to slip away, driven by a fierce will to survive. If caught, they’d be melted down and remade—no wonder they were so cautious.
The Einzbern family usually sent out these NPC-like homunculi because simpler personalities were less likely to awaken, a fact proven over time.
Riku had no plans to make overly complex homunculi for now, so this batch was mostly NPC types. The few with higher intelligence were there to help Xiao You manage and coordinate, sparing her from doing everything herself.
“Oh, got it,” the group said, nodding. Comparing them to “smart AIs” made it crystal clear—way easier than talk of the Third Magic, homunculi, or simulated personalities. After all, the Bartmoss AI awakening and the global net crash were world-changing events. Anyone with electricity knew about them.
The biggest difference between homunculi and AIs? Their bodies. One was data in a network; the other was flesh and blood, nearly identical to humans. Once a homunculus awakened, it had a human-like body and independent thoughts. So, were they people? It was a tough question to answer definitively.
The group dropped the topic. In the gritty world of Cyberpunk, plenty of people had bodies less “human” than these homunculi. Who cared about definitions?
Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the homunculi worked swiftly. Riku brought up his idea of producing “maid dolls” and asked for their thoughts.
“Doesn’t sound like a big draw,” Jack Wells said first. “The rich have everything. Why would they want fake maids when they can have real ones? You said their intelligence is way below a real person’s, right?”
Riku winced. Jack had a point.
With current tech, transforming a living person was easy. Some people had no original parts left, and customizing specific features was routine. The wealthy could swap out maids daily, each one tailored to their whims. Why bother with a custom homunculus maid?
“Wait a sec,” Riku said, catching himself. “These are supposed to be housekeeping maids, not… what you’re thinking! You’re totally twisting this into something like an inflatable doll!”
“No difference,” V teased. “Your ‘customizable’ maids don’t exactly scream ‘legit housekeeper,’ you know.” Still, she admitted she wouldn’t mind having one. Not for chores—she didn’t have many—but just to have around for aesthetic reasons.
“Tch, we’ll see,” Riku said, clicking his tongue. The locals didn’t seem sold, but he figured he’d test the waters. He was making them anyway, so he might as well try selling a few. If it didn’t work, no big deal.
After settling things at the Einzbern castle, Riku gave Old Mosby and his son some instructions. He’d send a team of homunculi to support the Aldecaldo family, tasked with wiping out the nearby “Blade Chaos Gang.”
“If all goes well, we can take a shot at those Night Wraiths punks,” Old Mosby said, his eyes gleaming with excitement, already picturing the downfall of the Night Wraiths. To the nomadic tribes, the Night Wraiths—a rogue group formed from the Blade Chaos Gang—were a scourge everyone wanted gone.
The biggest Blade Chaos Gang outfit in the Badlands outside Night City was the Night Wraiths. They clashed with most nomadic tribes, especially the Aldecaldos, who often went head-to-head with them.
The Night Wraiths were a loose band of lawless outlaws, stirring trouble wherever they went. The Aldecaldos had been harassed by them before, so Old Mosby was eager to settle the score.
“We could rally the nomads outside the city,” Riku suggested. “Taking out the Blade Chaos Gang and Night Wraiths benefits everyone.”
He nodded, fully supporting the idea. It was a chance to unite the scattered nomadic tribes. The Blade Chaos Gang and Night Wraiths thrived in the Badlands partly because the tribes were too divided to take them on together.
If the nomads could band together, wiping out the Night Wraiths would be a breeze. But their habit of fighting alone made it tough to overpower the outlaws, who, while chaotic, were scrappy fighters.
“Understood, my lord,” Old Mosby said, nodding eagerly. He saw this as a chance to build influence among the tribes and maybe unite them into a force Night City couldn’t ignore. No more being treated like expendable trash.
But he knew it wouldn’t be easy. The tribes were used to their independence, and some had bad blood with each other. Uniting the Badlands’ nomads was no small feat.
“A fight, huh?” V’s eyes lit up. This sounded like it could get wild, and she wanted in. The Blade Chaos Gang and Night Wraiths had crossed her before. Their raids on transport convoys had forced her team to tangle with them plenty while guarding cargo.
Now, with a plan to take them down, she was ready to pitch in. It was for the greater good.
“You guys want in? Go for it,” Riku said, unbothered. Securing the trade routes was part of V and Jack’s job anyway, so it made sense for them to join the fight.
As for Riku himself, he had no interest in getting involved early on. The Blade Chaos Gang and Night Wraiths were nomadic and slippery, and he wasn’t about to waste his time chasing them. He’d leave that to his team.
After confirming that V, Jack, Lucy, and Sasha were staying to help, Riku headed back to Night City alone. There, he met up with Old Vic, the legendary fixer who was waiting for him.
“Took you long enough,” Old Vic said, glancing up from the boxing match he was watching. “Thought you’d show up sooner.” He switched off the stream and looked at Riku, eager to see what he’d brought.
“Good things come to those who wait,” Riku said with a grin. But as he revealed his “good thing,” the phrase felt a bit off.
“Really? That’s your line?” Old Vic’s mouth twitched as he stared at the frozen chunk of flesh in Riku’s hand, unsure what to make of it.
“What is this?” he asked after a beat, eyeing the meat. What kind of meat was it to be called a “good thing”?
“Vampire flesh,” Riku said with a smile, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“And not just any vampire—a really strong one. The kind that doesn’t fear sunlight.”
Old Vic’s expression screamed, Are you kidding me? Riku’s follow-up only made it more absurd.
“Vampire… what, some new bio-mod?” Old Vic ventured, trying to make sense of it. It couldn’t be the mythical kind, right? Probably just another corporate experiment, like the werewolf mods that were all over the place.
He took the thawed chunk of flesh and got to work. His lab was packed with top-tier equipment for every kind of test. Slicing off samples and running scans, he was curious to see what made this thing so special.
Chapter 257: Fusing New Abilities
“Where’d you get this? Is it from a living sample?”
Old Vic asked again after scanning the piece of flesh, noticing something unusual. The cells were completely different from Riku’s, yet they shared some strikingly similar traits.
Clearly, this wasn’t human. It seemed this “vampire” wasn’t just talk—it was likely some kind of unique, extraordinary species.
Old Vic couldn’t help but wonder: could Riku be part of this “vampire” group? The strongest one, maybe? Or some kind of mutant?
“Hang on, I’ll grab something fresh.”
Unaware of Old Vic’s thoughts, Riku didn’t hesitate. He went straight to Meiren Solomon to “borrow” some more flesh and blood, returning with a fresh research sample for Old Vic.
“Well, that works.”
Old Vic didn’t say much. The freshly cut sample was indeed pristine, perfect for live scanning, and it would even let him observe how the sample gradually lost vitality.
“So, how’s it look? Can this thing match my abilities?”
Riku plopped down on a nearby chair, casually asking Old Vic. He was eager to integrate this new ability. Fusing a new power, like he did with Rc cells before, was a way to optimize his Ultimate Lifeform state.
The last time he fused Rc cells, he lucked out with Kyozoku (co-eating) and gained the new ability Kagune. He was curious to see what kind of “blind box” this fusion would unlock.
“Which one’s stronger? Let’s test it and find out.”
Old Vic didn’t give a straight answer. Instead, he extracted some cells from the flesh and glanced at Riku.
Riku got the hint immediately. This was a head-to-head test to see whose devouring and assimilation abilities were stronger.
Buzz!
Riku squeezed out a drop of his blood, and Old Vic collected it for the experiment. The results were as expected: Riku’s Ultimate Lifeform cells devoured the Dead Apostle cells with ease, just like they had with the Rc cells before.
No surprise there. After multiple upgrades, optimizations, and ability fusions, plus his high physical stats, Riku’s cells weren’t going to lose.
“That’s a relief.”
Riku nodded. Acquiring the Dead Apostle ability was simple—just a bit of their blood would do. Even a small amount could do the trick. This stuff was highly infectious to regular humans; even those who merely died from having their blood drained by a Dead Apostle could slowly evolve from a walking corpse into one themselves.
No need for Old Vic to perform any surgery this time. Riku went back, drew some of Meiren Solomon’s blood, and used his Shadow Wolf to absorb it.
[Detected special ability: Dead Apostle Transformation.]
[Detected Dead Apostle Transformation altering physical constitution.]
[Dead Apostle Transformation is integrating with and affecting Ultimate Lifeform. Ultimate Lifeform level increased, physical constitution altered.]
[Ultimate Lifeform Lv18: A special constitution formed by fusing multiple abilities. Strength, Agility, Constitution +22, Charisma +2. Gained Blood Demon Arts and altered physical constitution state.]
Updated Physical Constitution State:
Weakened: The sun no longer kills you or fully suppresses you. Abilities can now function at 50% capacity under sunlight.
New Physical Constitution State:
World’s Poison: Your existence pollutes and disrupts known world rules, forcing them to adapt to you.
Blood Servant Contract: Experience gained from enemies killed by converted subordinates is calculated at 50%.
[Ability fusion complete. Option to rename available. Proceed with renaming?]
Riku chose not to rename it, sticking with Ultimate Lifeform.
The effects of fusing Dead Apostle Transformation hit him like a refreshing bite of ice-cold watermelon on a hot summer day. His Weak Light condition had evolved into Weakened—now he could use his abilities during the day, even if they were reduced by 50%!
This was a massive leap forward. The day when he could face the sun without fear was within reach, and it gave him a huge boost in confidence. Now, even during the day, he had solid combat power—no longer a powerless rookie without regeneration.
For one, he could use Blood Demon Arts during the day. His survival skills were top-notch, and even with a 50% reduction, his recovery wasn’t weak—it just wasn’t as absurdly overpowered. After all, his base constitution was sky-high now!
“This World’s Poison... is it like a UO’s ability?”
After a moment of excitement, Riku turned his attention to the new trait. He was a bit puzzled—its description was vague and didn’t seem immediately useful.
He hadn’t really felt the world’s rejection or its rules restricting him. His abilities worked seamlessly across different worlds, never failing to function just because he’d switched settings.
“So, was that all thanks to the system?”
Riku could only guess. If World’s Poison was a thing, maybe the system itself was the ultimate World’s Poison—something even more terrifying than a UO.
A UO was just an “alien visitor,” capable of altering planetary rules to suit itself, but still operating within a broader system of world rules. The system, though? It was a true “otherworldly guest,” forcing entirely different world rules to adapt to it and accept Riku’s existence.
World’s Poison sounded insanely powerful, but Riku couldn’t quite pin down its practical use.
“Sounds broken, but what’s it actually do?”
Riku muttered to himself, brushing it off. He wasn’t too hung up on it. The fact that Weak Light had become Weakened, letting him use Blood Demon Arts during the day, was enough to make the Dead Apostle Transformation worth it.
Plus, Ultimate Lifeform had leveled up several times, saving him a few skill points.
Another theory was confirmed too: after losing the charisma penalty debuff, further upgrades did indeed boost his charisma. Though, it was only +1 per two levels—otherwise, he’d have gained +4 by now.
“Whatever, a boost’s a boost. I’ll lean into it and become a Bishonen someday,” Riku chuckled.
He wasn’t one to obsess over charisma. As a power-focused guy, he prioritized hard stats first, then soft skills like charm. High charisma could be its own playstyle, but Riku trusted his fists more than hoping his charm would win people over.
Charm was a nice option, but he needed the strength to handle things when charm didn’t work.
As for the final ability, Blood Servant Contract? That made him grin. Gaining 50% of the experience from enemies killed by his converted subordinates was a sweet deal. Not massive, but better than nothing—a nice little bonus.
“Not capitalist enough, though. Only 50%? Their lives are mine—I could kill them if I wanted. And I’m only getting half the experience?”
Riku joked to himself. If it were up to him, he’d take 99%! The remaining 1% would be their “hard work fee.” Heck, even 1% felt generous—0.01% would do, just to say he gave them something.
After all, the experience was useless to them. Riku hadn’t seen an “experience” stat on any of his servants’ panels.
“…”
Meiren Solomon’s face was deathly pale—truly pale this time. Riku hadn’t held back, nearly draining him dry. Meiren felt weaker than ever, closer to death than he’d ever been.
Logically, this shouldn’t have happened. If draining blood could kill a Dead Apostle, their “immortality” wouldn’t mean much. It’d be like saying bleeding Riku out could kill him—impossible. The blood itself didn’t carry their power.
But if Riku kept losing blood that could turn others into vampires, his constitution would drop to zero, potentially killing him. For Meiren, it was the same. The blood he’d given was equivalent to what he’d use to turn others into Dead Apostles, leaving him in a weakened state.
“How’d you do that?!”
Meiren couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t sensed any connection forming between himself and Riku. This wasn’t conversion—it was pure power absorption.
Even among Dead Apostles, this kind of thing wasn’t easy. Otherwise, they’d all be slaughtering each other for power.
“Of course, it’s because I’m stronger than you.”
Riku shot Meiren a glance, tossing out a half-hearted answer before heading back to Old Vic’s clinic.
“Where’d you run off to? That busy, huh?”
Old Vic raised an eyebrow, annoyed. Riku kept popping in and out, leaving him talking to himself half the time.
“Haha, just couldn’t wait to make this ability mine.”
Riku grinned. Old Vic stared at him, a bit surprised but not shocked. After all, he’d performed Riku’s Kagune transplant surgery last time.
“No help needed this time?”
Old Vic was more surprised by that. When Riku brought the sample, he’d figured Riku was planning to shove yet another weird thing into his body. The guy was fearless, tossing all sorts of bizarre stuff into himself without worrying about rejection or genetic collapse.
Then again, Old Vic knew Riku’s body was ridiculously resilient. If it was going to collapse, it would’ve done so long ago.
“Nope, not this time.”
Riku waved him off. This ability was so compatible with his own that the fusion went smoothly.
“Alright, guess I’ll mess around with this myself then.”
Old Vic shrugged, not too bothered. Less work for him.
“Just be careful. Get that blood on you, and you might turn into a vampire.”
Riku teased with a laugh. Of course, Old Vic was meticulous, always handling things with tools, never touching them directly.
“Sounds kinda nice. Might live a bit longer.”
Old Vic chuckled back, leaving Riku unsure if he was serious or joking.
“If you’re up for it, I could make you live forever. Comes with a price, though.”
Following Old Vic’s lead, Riku laid it out. He rarely brought this up with his oldest friends, like V or Jack. The cost was steep, and handing over their lives to his control wasn’t exactly appealing to people who valued freedom and scoffed at death.
If it was a standalone, low-cost immortality, they’d probably jump at it. But this? Not so much.
Riku wasn’t thrilled about it either. Converting subordinates or tools was one thing—no baggage there. But with friends, that kind of bond could twist things in ways he didn’t want.
He didn’t want to lose his friends. At least for now, he still cared about the bonds he’d forged through shared struggles.
“Just talking out loud.”
Old Vic waved it off, clearly not sold on the idea. Honestly, people like them didn’t survive this long by fearing death.
“But, y’know, maybe when I’m older—too old to hold a scalpel steady—I might come begging. Don’t turn me down then.”
After brushing off Riku’s offer, Old Vic added with a laugh, sounding more genuine. He wasn’t sure himself. Right now, death felt far off, but the fear of aging might change his mind. Time was the cruelest killer, tormenting people with fear and powerlessness before the end.
“You’ll see. If I don’t make you sign a lifelong slave contract, I wouldn’t be living up to my Devil name.”
Riku flipped him off, throwing out a playful jab.
“Pfft, that’s terrifying. I’d rather just die.”
Old Vic cracked up at the thought. He ran his own shop to avoid being chained by corporate contracts. Signing one with Riku? He’d rather kick the bucket.
Of course, he knew Riku was joking. He’d watched Riku grow into what he was now—whatever kind of creature he’d become—and had a better read on him than even V or Jack.
“Go do your thing. I’m heading to check on V and the others.”
Riku rolled his eyes, ignoring Old Vic’s banter. He stepped into the shadows and left the clinic, heading for the Badlands. He wasn’t worried about Old Vic leaking anything. The former legendary boxer was old-school, with principles, honor, and integrity.
Chapter 258: The Charm of the Badlands
Inside the Einzbern castle, there were already some combat-ready homunculi, and this time, Riku sent a good number of them out.
No choice, really. The Aldecaldo family wasn’t exactly a massive clan. Without Riku’s support, they’d struggle to go toe-to-toe with the Night Wraiths.
Sure, the Night Wraiths were a “traitor alliance” made up of renegades, but they were a long-established group with serious clout in the Badlands outside Night City. Robbing this, raiding that—they had to have some muscle to pull it off.
These drifters were fearless, thumbing their noses at every faction. Militech, Arasaka—they didn’t care, treating everyone the same. They’d even sneak into corporate territories to stir up trouble.
Hated by passersby, despised by nomad tribes, and loathed by corporate dogs, the Night Wraiths were truly the scum of the earth. They lived without fear, ready to take a bite out of anyone.
“Live fast, die young” was their motto. Why bother with rules or morals? What’s the point of living if you’re not free to go wild? That kind of mindset was starting to creep into the once-pure nomad tribes. More and more were seduced by greed, abandoning their proud traditions.
“Hell yeah! If we’re taking on the Night Wraiths, count us in!”
A wild, energetic voice cut through the air—Panam Palmer from the Aldecaldos. The moment she heard they were going after the Night Wraiths, she was all in, practically buzzing with excitement.
The Aldecaldos and the Night Wraiths were old enemies, constantly clashing. So, Old Mosby didn’t hesitate to reach out to the Aldecaldos, inviting them to join the fight. They didn’t waste time—Panam Palmer rolled up with her crew in no time.
“Why the sudden move on the Night Wraiths?”
Standing beside Panam was Mitch Anderson, a key leader in the Aldecaldos’ combat team. Old Mosby recognized him—a respected veteran from the Bright family who’d seen real battlefields.
“They keep hitting our shipments,” said Ted, Old Mosby’s son, not bothering to hide anything. He was ready to lay it all out, including their ties to Riku.
“Shipments?” Panam blinked, then it clicked. Organic meat trade—the main deal between nomad families and Night City. The Aldecaldos were deep in it too, supplying even more than the Aldecaldos.
“Fair point,” Mitch nodded. He got it. Their shipments got hit too, and honestly, the Aldecaldos were probably the Night Wraiths’ primary target, getting harassed more than anyone.
Behind Panam, another man relayed the news to their leader, Saul Bright. Though Saul wasn’t there, he was keeping tabs, not leaving it all to his crew.
Saul held serious sway in the Bright family. As the rightful heir, he’d always done a solid job.
“Saul’s on board,” the man, nicknamed “Scorpion,” reported soon after. Like Mitch, he was a seasoned vet and one of Panam’s close allies.
Even so, both Scorpion and Mitch put the family’s interests first, not just following Panam blindly. They clearly respected Saul’s leadership.
“Hmph. If he’d said no, I’d have shown up at his doorstep with my crew!” Panam said, half-joking but satisfied. She and Saul didn’t always see eye to eye, but she had to admit he was fair.
“Awesome! With the Bright family in, this just got a lot easier. You guys know the Night Wraiths better than we do,” Old Mosby said, relieved. He’d been confident he could convince them, but having it confirmed felt good.
“Damn right. We’ve been keeping an eye on those bastards,” Panam said with a nod, her fiery personality shining through. She couldn’t wait to take down the Night Wraiths.
“So, where’d you hire this mercenary squad from?” Mitch asked casually, his gaze shifting to the homunculi team—a striking sight that was hard to ignore.
“They’re not hired. They’re Devil-sama’s troops, here to help. In fact, taking out the Night Wraiths and cleaning up the Blade Chaos Gang was all Devil-sama’s call,” Old Mosby said, his tone reverent.
Panam and her crew didn’t find it odd. Word had spread that Riku saved the Aldecaldo family from being crushed by Biotechnica. Old Mosby himself was brought back from the brink by Riku. His respect made sense.
To them, it was a good sign—the Aldecaldos were loyal and knew how to repay a debt.
“Where’d this Devil guy get these…?” Panam trailed off, eyeing the homunculi. It was obvious they weren’t normal humans. They stood there, exuding an otherworldly vibe, with only a few showing a spark of life.
“Is this the kind of power Night City big shots have?” Mitch added. He’d thought Riku was just another corporate puppet like Kerry Hall, but now? He wasn’t so sure.
“They didn’t send anyone else? Just these?” Panam asked, curious. No Devil? No V or Jack Wells?
“They’re here, already getting to work,” Old Mosby said with a nod. A Blade Chaos Gang crew had been spotted, and V, Jack, and the others were already on it.
“Pretty eager, huh?” Panam grinned, itching to jump in herself.
“Woo-hoo! Hell yeah!”
Out on a Badlands highway, V was unloading a machine gun, whooping like she was having the time of her life.
The gun’s brutal recoil pounded her body, but she didn’t care. Her cybernetic upgrades made her a beast—this kind of kickback was nothing. It’d dislocate a normal person’s arm a dozen times over, but for her? Not a scratch.
“Haha! Take that, you Blade Chaos punks!” Jack roared from the driver’s seat, laughing wildly as they chased a wandering Blade Chaos crew—not Night Wraiths, just a smaller gang.
Not every Blade Chaos member joined the Night Wraiths. Some were lone wolves or small crews who’d had enough of any structure. The Night Wraiths were loose, but they still had a hierarchy.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Rockets exploded around their vehicle, but Jack stayed cool, weaving the car like a pro.
They were driving a Thorton Mackinaw “Warhorse,” a beast of a vehicle sourced from the Aldecaldos—a nomad favorite seen in every tribe.
The Warhorse was a souped-up version of the Thorton Mackinaw “Laramie,” built for battle. The Laramie was a pure off-road pickup, made for places God forgot—sandstorms, hail, acid rain, you name it. With massive storage, it was perfect for long hauls.
The Warhorse? Pure nomad style: slapped with thick armor plates, a roaring engine swap, and a cannon on top that’d make a tank driver jealous. When this monster roared, you could hear it a mile away, making any would-be raider think twice.
“Who the hell are these lunatics?!”
The Blade Chaos crew being chased was freaking out, flooring it but unable to shake the Warhorse. It wasn’t just fast—it was relentless.
Caught off guard at first, they fought back, but soon realized they were outmatched. The crazy woman with the mounted machine gun was too much, and the Warhorse’s cannon sealed the deal. After losing two cars, the remaining two sped off, but V’s crew wasn’t letting them go.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A few Blade Chaos members leaned out, spraying bullets at V, who stood in the truck bed. Useless—her subdermal armor deflected everything.
“Dammit, cyberpsycho!” they cursed, realizing what they were up against. V was a walking arsenal, modded beyond their level.
“Run! Don’t let her catch us!” one shouted, panic setting in. Fighting was pointless—escape was their only shot against a cyberpsycho.
“Those two are having way too much fun,” Sasha said with a smirk, exchanging a glance with Lucy inside the Warhorse. V and Jack were in their element, but this high-octane chase through the Badlands? It was a rush you couldn’t get in Night City.
“Wanna give it a try?” V called back, grinning.
Sasha and Lucy waved her off. They didn’t have V’s level of cyberware—no way they could handle that weapon. It was built for modded-out maniacs like her.
They weren’t slacking, though. Sasha was running the Warhorse’s cannon via a program, not manually. Lucy was piloting drones to track the fleeing cars, making sure they didn’t lose them. She could’ve ended it with the drones but didn’t want to risk losing them.
With business booming and credits rolling in, they’d upgraded their gear—cyberware, guns, drones, the works. You didn’t skimp on tools of the trade, though they weren’t exactly swimming in eddies. Lucy’s caution with the drones showed their budget wasn’t infinite.
BOOM!
“What the hell?!”
An explosion rocked ahead, and the two Blade Chaos cars went up in flames, black smoke billowing.
Jack swerved, pulling the Warhorse to a quick stop.
“What happened?” the trio asked, looking at Lucy, whose eyes glinted as she smiled. Her drones had spotted him—Riku.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Several shadowy Noble Phantasms shot out, striking the cars. They detonated, dark energy waves obliterating the vehicles and everyone inside.
Riku landed, flapping massive Hecate wings, satisfied with the attack. The Noble Phantasms he’d “borrowed” from Gilgamesh packed a punch when used like this—a brutal, straightforward tactic like EMIYA’s Broken Phantasm, all about raw power.
Like EMIYA, Riku could “project” these shadowy Noble Phantasms again and again, so he didn’t care about wasting them. Gilgamesh wouldn’t use them this way unless desperate, reserving his Gate of Babylon for his “King’s Cannon.”
“Holy crap, are you a bomber or what?!” V and Jack rolled up, gawking at the wreckage and ribbing Riku.
“Nah, not quite,” Riku said modestly. The Noble Phantasms he’d nabbed were a bit lackluster—decent but not legendary. Most were random junk he didn’t even know the origins of, so he used them in the simplest, most effective way: chuck ‘em and let ‘em blow.
“Damn, that’s cool as hell,” V said, clearly jealous. Something about Riku seemed even more appealing now.
It wasn’t her imagination. Riku’s charisma had ticked up a couple points, enough to notice. Though they’d only parted recently, Jack, V, Sasha, and Lucy all sensed a subtle shift. Jack, the big Hayward guy, just thought Riku’s moves were badass, sparking envy and adrenaline.
Chapter 259: The Subjugation Alliance
“Strength comes and goes, but being cool? That’s for life.”
Riku cracked a joke, though he was a die-hard power enthusiast at heart. Sure, looking good mattered, but it came second to strength. After all, only the strong get the chance to show off. The powerful can do anything and still look cool—scholars will write essays to justify them. The weak? They just get trampled.
That said, V and the others were genuinely impressed by his strength. In this day and age, looking handsome or beautiful was easy—swap out every part of your face if you wanted. But Riku’s charisma wasn’t just about looks; it was a mix of everything about him.
“You guys are having a blast, huh?”
Riku grinned at V and Jack, who were practically buzzing with excitement. Street kids through and through, they were never ones to sit still. They lived for the chaos.
“Hell yeah, we’re having a blast!” V exhaled, finally letting out some pent-up frustration. “While you were gone, we’ve been dealing with those punks non-stop, always defending the convoys and taking hits. Now? We’re the ones chasing them. Feels damn good.”
She was reveling in the chance to turn the tables. But it was only a taste—she still had a score to settle with the Night Wraiths. Those bastards were gonna get what’s coming.
“You were gone, and we were suffocating out here,” Jack chimed in, just as fired up. They weren’t about to let this slide. They had to show everyone who dared mess with their convoys that they weren’t pushovers.
With Riku back, they didn’t have to hold back anymore.
“Honestly, we didn’t take that much of a hit,” Sasha added, rolling her eyes at V and Jack’s dramatics. The Randou-kai (Blade Gang) that came after them usually ended up crushed. V and Jack had probably killed more people in this short time than in their entire lives before.
“Exactly,” Riku nodded, agreeing with Sasha. “With you four around, how could we take a big loss?”
“But it’s not that simple,” Jack countered. “Sure, the teams we were with didn’t get screwed over, but we can’t be everywhere at once. We can’t guard every convoy. There’s always some poor bastard who gets hit. Those are our losses—our blood, sweat, and brothers. If we don’t fix this, who’s gonna stick with us? Everyone’s watching to see how we handle it.”
His words caught everyone off guard, and they turned to look at him.
“Didn’t know you had such a big-picture mindset,” V said, rolling her eyes again. She hadn’t thought that far—she just found the Randou-kai annoying as hell, always picking fights. Screw that! Time to blow them up!
“Jack’s kinda perfect for this,” Lucy piped up. She’d noticed it before: Jack had a knack for getting along with everyone. He could chat up anyone—priests, old captains, convoy drivers, workers handling the organic meat, even the nomad suppliers. Everyone liked him. It was a rare skill, one that left Lucy in awe. Jack Wells was a social beast.
Maybe it’s true that people admire what they lack. Lucy wasn’t great at socializing, but Jack? He was a walking social superpower.
“Jack’s got a point,” Sasha said, backing him up. “We can’t keep playing defense forever.”
“Don’t worry, we’re already handling it,” Riku said with a smile. He was starting to think about handing the organic meat business over to Jack entirely. The guy had the skills, the drive, and even a hunger for power that the others didn’t show.
It made sense. They’d all come from the streets, living with their heads on the line. None of them were dumb, just wired differently. Most still thought from their own or their squad’s perspective, but Jack had already shifted to a broader mindset. The others hadn’t caught up yet.
No rush, though. They’d deal with the problem at hand first.
Over the next few days, the cleanup of the smaller Randou-kai groups continued, while the search for the Night Wraiths never stopped.
The addition of the Bright Family from Adekado made this “Great Sweep Operation” a lot smoother. The Brights had a ton of intel on the Night Wraiths, and with their help, tracking their movements became much easier.
“No wonder they call Adekado the human radar of the Badlands. If you need to find someone out here, they’re the ones to call,” Jack remarked.
Panam, the fiery nomad girl, laughed. “Not quite. They’re talking about our knack for finding water sources and drilling wells, not people.”
Mitch Anderson and Scorpion chuckled too. Apparently, the reputation was well-known, even if city folk like Jack got it a bit wrong. Understandable.
“Haha, details, details,” Jack brushed it off with a laugh, unfazed.
They were already on their way to hit the Night Wraiths. This wasn’t a small operation. Their organic meat business had its own guards, plus people from the Red Ocher Family, the Bright Family, Riku’s android troops, and a mix of other nomad tribes. It was a full-on “Subjugation Alliance.”
This coalition was held together by mutual benefit. Riku’s group had been generous with the nomad tribes, so when they called, plenty of tribes stepped up with manpower and resources.
Sometimes, alliances built on shared interests are the strongest—especially when facing enemies like the Randou-kai and Night Wraiths, who threatened everyone’s profits. The Night Wraiths had long bullied smaller tribes, so naturally, everyone was ready to settle old scores.
Without this alliance, those smaller tribes would never have stood a chance against the Night Wraiths. They’d have been picked off bit by bit until they vanished.
According to the Bright Family’s intel, the Night Wraiths were holed up in a rundown town. The alliance soon arrived near the target.
The surrounding buildings told the story—this place had been abandoned for ages. The Badlands outside Night City were littered with towns like this: desolate, crumbling, left to rot. Some were abandoned due to war, others because life became unsustainable. Some might’ve even been wiped out by the Night Wraiths themselves. Who knows if this town was one of their victims?
As the alliance closed in, the Night Wraiths spotted them. The “Subjugation Alliance” wasn’t exactly subtle—its size was massive, and it was a bit chaotic, with all kinds of gear and mismatched vehicles. They looked like a ragtag militia.
“So what if we’re a ragtag crew? Are the Night Wraiths some kind of elite army?” Jack scoffed. Sure, they were a motley bunch, but a crew’s a crew!
The Night Wraiths weren’t much better—another selfish gang out for their own gain, with gear and combat skills just as uneven.
The alliance was confident. Numbers were on their side, and in a fight where skill levels were similar, manpower could decide everything. Plus, they didn’t think they were any worse than the Night Wraiths. Quality? They had that in spades too.
The Night Wraiths reacted fast, sending out a bunch of motorcycle riders to scout.
The alliance wasn’t about to back down. Several bikes roared out to meet them, Jack Wells among them. An old hand at racing, he wasn’t missing a chance for a motorcycle showdown.
Bikes weaved back and forth, gunfire erupting. Motorcycles went down, and riders took bullets.
“This feels like some kind of knight duel,” Riku mused, amused. Swap lances for guns and horses for bikes, and it had that vibe.
Soon, the Night Wraiths riders retreated in a panic. The “Subjugation Alliance” scored a decisive first victory. Everyone was a seasoned rider, living on the edge, and with the numbers advantage, they sent the Night Wraiths running with their tails between their legs.
“Hell yeah!”
The win was a huge morale boost, especially for the smaller nomad tribes. They’d often been targeted by the Night Wraiths, and this victory was a sweet release of pent-up frustration.
Naturally, there were injuries. The wounded were immediately brought to Riku for treatment. He wasn’t fighting today—just handling the healing.
Riku couldn’t do everything himself. What was the point of having a crew if he did? Plus, his people needed to grow and stand on their own. He wasn’t always around, especially when he was off in other worlds. They needed to step up.
This operation, for example—did they really need him to come back to organize it? No. They could’ve done it themselves but held off because he was gone. Riku wanted them to be more independent.
With his healing, anyone who didn’t die on the spot was good as new. That boosted morale even more. His terrifying recovery abilities eased their fears—it was hard to die with him around, as long as you didn’t croak instantly.
“What the hell are these guys?!”
Inside the town, the Night Wraiths were in a heated discussion. Harry Sullivan glared at the riders who’d limped back, his mind a mess. Where did these people come from, and what did they want?
“Do we even need to guess? They’re here to screw us over!”
Jim Geronimo spat, grinding his teeth. The audacity—coming right to their doorstep! Did they think the Night Wraiths were pushovers?
“Let’s go! What are we waiting for? Let’s take ‘em out!”
Another guy shouted, fearless. Numbers didn’t matter—war wasn’t just about headcount!
The Night Wraiths had already gathered in the town after spotting the alliance. Now they were debating: fight or flee? The riders’ reports made some want to cut and run. Loyalty wasn’t exactly their thing—were they really going to die for the Night Wraiths? The enemy had too many people!
“Anyone with guts, follow me!”
“Razor” Steve Kowalski slammed the table and stormed out, leading a group with fire in their veins.
The Night Wraiths had been around for a while, wreaking havoc in the Badlands. Some were true believers, others just thrill-seekers. They followed “Razor” Steve out, with Jim Geronimo joining the charge, ready for a fight.
Honestly, the Night Wraiths were a rough bunch—kicked out by traditional nomad families who treated each other like kin. They were aggressive, cruel, and not the type to back down. Steve’s provocation lit a fire, and a swarm of Night Wraiths rushed out to take on the intruders.
They lived as nomads, surviving by raiding, never staying in one place long. Defending a town wasn’t their style—they fought on the move. Whether they were fighting or fleeing, they had to get out of the town first.
Engines roared as the Night Wraiths fired up their bikes and cars, a chaotic mix of modified vehicles. They looked just as ragtag as the alliance.
Buzz!
A drone zipped overhead. Lucy was controlling it, carefully tracking the Night Wraiths’ main force while staying out of sight. She wasn’t about to let her drone get shot down.
“They’re moving. Heading our way,” she reported.
Everyone braced for battle. They didn’t want a siege either—most were nomads too, skilled in mobile warfare. It was a clash of similar Stands. Now it was just a matter of who was tougher.
Chapter 260: Crushing the Night Riders
Battles on the Badlands are just wild like that. Everyone’s used to the chaos of car chases and mobile warfare—lively, to say the least.
The roar of engines never stops. Modified bikes of all kinds zip around like crazy, and there’s a ton of them. Anyone daring to ride a bike is a total badass. They’re like roving blades, trading armor for insane mobility, just like the Yūkyōtai—the wandering rangers.
The Night Riders are especially obsessed with their bikes. A good chunk of them are these Yūkyōtai bike rangers, but they’ve also got tanks like Tetsui Makino’s “Warhorse.” These modified rides are decked out with thick, custom armor and roaring cannons—fast, lightly armored, small-caliber tanks on wheels, just without the treads.
The Night Riders’ bike rangers come screaming in, engines echoing across the sky, with their tanks rolling close behind. The cannons on top start booming, and in the blink of an eye, the battle erupts.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The clash between the Night Riders and the Coalition kicks off with a chaotic exchange of rockets. Both sides lose plenty of bikes and armored vehicles—blown up or flipped over—but the casualties aren’t too heavy. After all, they’re old rivals, familiar with each other’s tricks. The vanguards leading the charge are battle-hardened and crazy skilled.
Riku watches as some bike rangers weave through a storm of bullets like they’re one with their machines, dodging attacks with unreal precision. The bikes are blazing fast, pushed to their limits. At those speeds, you can’t even ride without special gizai—cybernetic implants. Balancing the bike needs gizai. Keeping your vision clear needs gizai. No gizai, no ranger. Without them, riding like that is just asking to die.
Human bodies keep getting upgraded, and so do the weapons and vehicles. These bikes are ridiculously fast, moving like fighter jets on the ground, agile beyond belief.
Still, wanderers are just wanderers. They don’t have access to many heavy-caliber weapons. But those simple, brutal, and effective rockets? They’ve got plenty in stock. Before the fight really kicks off, both sides launch a barrage. Doesn’t matter how much damage it does—it’s all about rattling the enemy’s morale.
After the first wave, it’s time for the real fight. Since the Night Riders aren’t running, it’s a head-on brawl. Every vehicle charges forward, engines roaring as they crash into each other.
Bang! Bang! Bang! BOOM!
Bullets scream through the air, with the occasional cannon or rocket blasting off. The Night Riders’ main force slams into the Coalition, and the two sides tangle up. The rangers dart left and right, some already cutting straight through the enemy’s formation.
“Die! Die!”
V’s hauling her massive machine gun, firing nonstop. Her tank is among the first to plow into the Night Riders’ ranks. No need to worry about friendly fire—her allies haven’t caught up yet. She’s having a blast shooting, but she’s also getting lit up herself. Clang! Clang! Her Warhorse’s armor takes a beating it’s never seen before.
Riku watches, grinning. This kind of chaos is thrilling. A battle this big—bikes and tanks crashing, shooting, colliding—it’s something only wanderers would do, especially since their attack options are kinda limited.
Vroom!
Speaking of limited, here come the drones. Swarms of them, big and small, buzzing in the sky, firing away. Both sides’ drones go at it, not in huge numbers, but the fight’s lively. Soon enough, drones start crashing to the ground.
Riku’s behind the wheel of the Warhorse, weaving through the battlefield. Yup, he’s playing driver because the usual hotshot, Jack Welles, ditched to go have fun on a bike. So Riku steps up.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Warhorse’s cannon roars. Sasha’s not slacking either, pinpointing targets with precision, blasting bikes and tanks into chaos. Lucy’s helping her adjust aim, keeping her own drones out of the main fight for personal use—carefully, since they’d get focused and shot down otherwise.
CRASH!
Riku rams a bike out of the way, breaking through the “encirclement.” A few of their own bikes follow, including Jack Welles, who’s circling the Warhorse, drawing fire and lending a hand.
Vroom! Screech!
The Warhorse pulls a slick drift, swings around, and charges back in. Jack and the others turn and follow. That’s how the fight goes—back-and-forth rushes, weaving through a hail of bullets, betting on who breaks first.
The Night Riders crack first. Despite their gutsy charges, the mounting losses and dwindling allies tank their morale. Their fighting spirit hits zero, organization collapses, and they scatter.
Once it reaches this point, it’s a one-sided chase and slaughter. This phase racks up the most kills—way more than the actual fighting. Jack Welles zips around on his bike, chasing down rangers, mostly ignoring the tanks. Their own tanks handle those.
Truth is, few Night Rider tanks even make it out. Without the rangers’ mobility, most get stuck in the middle of the battlefield. The Jinzōnin—artificial humans—form a defensive line at the center, holding back the enemy with their lives. That’s a big reason the Night Riders collapse so fast.
These bizarre women turn into monsters, taking on tanks head-on, shrugging off cannon fire like they’re fearless.
Riku’s implanted Heru-packs into these Jinzōnin, blending two techs. With their varied Heru abilities, they function like heavy infantry, but they take heavy losses too.
“Raaagh! Stop running and face your death!”
Jack Welles weaves through the Badlands’ brush, chasing a target who seems like a big shot. Why? They’ve already taken out several Night Riders protecting this guy’s escape. Honestly, Jack didn’t expect loyalty from Night Riders, but it just fuels their resolve to catch this dude.
“Get him!”
Jack’s not alone—several bike rangers are with him, closing in on the Night Rider. They finally corner the vehicle and capture the guy alive.
As expected, he’s a Night Rider leader: “Razor” Steve Kowalski.
The battle wraps up fast. The main battlefield’s already being cleaned up. Riku starts tending to the wounded. The unlucky ones aren’t too many—most don’t die on the spot. As long as they’re breathing, Riku can fix them, even if they’re in pieces.
The Bright Family is floored by Riku’s skills. They don’t get it, but they respect it. In their line of work, living on the edge, who wouldn’t want a guy like Riku around? If something goes wrong, he’s the difference between death and a second chance.
The Coalition’s casualties are low—only 20 or 30 dead, spread across the families, all killed instantly or didn’t make it to the end. This doesn’t count the Jinzōnin, who took the brunt of the losses as the main defensive force.
To Riku, though, it’s not a loss. He collects the bodies, sending them to the “Shadow Realm” for recycling.
Riku’s given Yū the ability to use Rc cells, letting her imbue Jinzōnin with those powers during creation. He’s also handed over Kanō Akihiro’s research data to Yū’s database. With the “Moon Spirit Essence” boosting her processing power, Yū’s efficiency has skyrocketed.
The Jinzōnin’s heavy losses only make the other Coalition factions respect Riku’s group more. They don’t know the details—just that Riku’s side took on the toughest job and deserves the most credit. Plus, the Jinzōnin straight-up crushed the Night Riders’ leader, ending the fight quick.
“They’re back! The pursuit team’s back!”
As the battlefield cleanup wraps up, the bike rangers who went chasing stragglers start returning. They took out plenty more Night Riders, though some got counter-killed, letting a few stragglers escape. They’ll need a big sweep later to deal with the remnants, but those scattered survivors aren’t a huge threat for now.
Thud.
“Razor” Steve gets tossed to the ground. With the Night Riders’ big boss’s head smashed in, Steve’s a key figure. As the most trusted lieutenant, he likely knows a ton of their secrets.
The Coalition’s already searched the Night Riders’ temp base but found little. The Night Riders are an old gang—they’ve got to have some stash. Since their main force is crushed, the Coalition wants to clean out their reserves for a total victory.
“I’ll take you there!”
Razor Steve’s smart enough to know the game’s up. He just wants to live. No tricks—he offers to trade the Night Riders’ stash for his life. He knows where it’s hidden. Sure, others might know too, but they’re either dead or gone. He’s the last one left.
“You don’t want someone else beating you to it, right? Let me go, and I’ll lead you there!”
Steve’s sly, and he’s not wrong. If those stragglers move fast, they could grab the stash first. No time to hesitate.
“Fine, we’ll let you go.”
The Coalition agrees to his terms. Better to secure the loot now than risk complications later. Everyone wants to wipe out the Night Riders for good—no loose ends.
Riku stays quiet, letting Jack, V, and the others handle it. Aside from driving during the fight, he’s left it all to them.
They could’ve had hackers dig into Steve’s brain for answers—everyone’s got neural implants, so a deep dive could work. But that takes time, equipment, and a hacking pod. No guarantee they’d find the info fast enough. Agreeing to Steve’s deal is the smarter play.
Soon, Jack, V, Sasha, Lucy, and the Bright Family’s Panam, Mitch, Scorpion, plus some elites from other families, head out with a few Jinzōnin in case the stragglers are regrouping.
Led by Razor Steve, they reach an abandoned research facility after a while. The Night Riders used it as a secret base for storing supplies. Wandering and raiding, they couldn’t carry everything, and they didn’t trust the city. The Badlands, with its countless abandoned buildings, was perfect—especially a place like this facility.
“Looks like no one beat us here. Makes sense—they just got crushed. Doubt they’re thinking straight yet. Let’s just hope they don’t trap us inside.”
Jack breathes a sigh of relief, excited. The Night Riders’ stash should be hefty—they rob everyone, after all.
With Steve leading, they clear the facility easily. The Night Rider guards are already dead, and with an insider guiding them, it’s smooth sailing. But just as they finish inside, trouble shows up outside.
“Those stragglers move fast.”
Riku chuckles, glancing at Jack, who’s probably cursing himself for jinxing it.
(Chapter End)
