Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Not Suited for Close Combat
The shop owner accepted the "Gambler".
He first placed it in a professional device for a round of scanning and cutting tests, and then gave the Samurai Sword a complete maintenance.
"Raqi Industry’s custom materials are indeed impressive, not a single bend or nick."
The owner praised before scanning John’s body.
"But I don’t recommend you use it."
High-end single-molecule Samurai Swords sound cool, but in street fights, they are more like fashionable accessories:
Even a kid just beaten up by a drunk knows to pull the trigger, and with a little money, you can buy a firearm with rocket-propelled bullets.
The threshold for melee weapons is a bit too high for ordinary people.
But they also have their reasons to exist.
Ammunition is a limited resource, and some prosthetic body modifications are made specifically for close combat, such as neural synapses, alloy skeletons, and operating systems that enhance mobility and reaction speed.
Bullets might not penetrate armor.
But a blade forged from high-molecular materials, slicing at joints and muscle links, is something even the best prosthetic doctors can’t save.
The Ghouls and some gang members are enthusiasts of hand-to-hand combat, especially enjoying jumping onto opponents with weapons, as if the sight of brain matter flying brings them joy.
In recent years, arm prosthetics have been very popular on the black market.
They particularly like installing pop-out blades on their arms, which look flashy during street brawls.
The police issue wanted notices every day for the perverts who enjoy dismembering.
Illegal modifications haven’t been significantly impacted, and have instead fueled this wicked trend.
John agreed with their views.
At this stage, without a proper prosthetic body, using a gun is the safest bet.
"But keep it for now; close combat chips are hot commodities. Newcomers on the street love to buy these once they make a name for themselves."
The burly black man was straightforward. "I know the market best. The chips here basically rotate every three to five days, and it’s uncertain what will come next. It’s wisest to buy while there’s good stuff."
"Your suggestion?"
"This Samurai Sword can be equipped with neurotoxins, and a new assisting grip. As long as they’re not high-density alloy corporate henchmen, slicing street thugs would be like cutting vegetables."
"Don’t use it like Shark Coin to cut fruit. Keep the antidote handy, and take a shot if you cut yourself for real."
[Module: Neurotoxins, Assisting Grip]
The owner picked several chips from a box, all containing rare sword techniques from the black market. Once inserted and loaded, with regular practice, one could become a master of rapid weapons handling.
[Action Input, Coordination Calibration, Retry, Loading Complete.]
Words flashed before John’s eyes.
He pulled out the chip and found that the copper plate was already burnt, with Black Light seemingly having forcibly transferred its content, imprinting all information into his brain.
"Is there a problem? I cleaned them of viruses."
The owner noticed his unusual expression and reached to take the chip back, intending to insert it into a terminal for a recheck.
"No problem, I’ll take them all."
John placed the discarded chip inside his bulletproof vest, then paid—the account balance bottomed out in the blink of an eye, leaving him with an indescribable ache.
"I spend money so brainlessly. Sh*t, just got my footing and blew it all away."
"Hahaha, I’m really envious, young and without worries."
Macao took him back to the Bandage Boxing Gym, ready to teach him some more things.
John suddenly halted.
[Scan Detected, Attempting to Hack, Opponent Cancelled.]
John stood in the mall corridor, leaning against the cement railing, glancing around, then looked toward a camera under the sign opposite him.
His cybernetic eye flickered, and through the scanning filter, he could see red data streams—indicating that a hacker was attempting to invade him through remote devices.
The opponent took no further action.
"Someone’s spying, I gotta go, buddy."
John briefly explained.
Macao, however, insisted on taking him back to the boxing gym: "The fringes of Bolago Club are Black Gold Gang territory too. I’ll have a word with the person in charge to see if we can find out who’s messing with you. You can’t wander out alone; it’s just asking for trouble, isn’t it?"
"Uh, alright, I’m used to being a Lone Wolf, didn’t expect this."
John quickly followed him back to the boxing gym. Just entering the door, he found it crowded, the ring surrounded by watching fighters, even Gino was sitting on a pull-up bar from afar.
A free fight was taking place in the ring.
Once John saw one of the participants, he blurted out a f*ck.
[Name: Eden Weitz]
[Affiliation: Harbor Company]
[Scan: Alloy Skeleton, Subdermal Armor, etc.]
[Bounty: Cancelled]
[File: Direct line of the German Remer Gang, Unmarried, Major Retired in Eden City Independence War (Special Affairs Bureau File), Dog Tag Number Deleted, External Speaker of Special Action Team...]
Eden just delivered a stepping punch.
The two-meter-tall muscular man on the opposite side collapsed straight toward the edge of the ring, cybernetic eyes flickered, mouthguard flew out.
"F*ck, who the hell is this, making my gym’s best fighter look like crap."
Macao stood with his arms crossed, but was unusually excited. "I must persuade him to participate in the Bolago Boxing Match!"
"I don’t recommend you bring that up."
John sneered, shrugging.
Eden took off his suit jacket from the barrier.
It’s said he beat six fighters in a row, not even getting into a warm-up state, now walking toward the exit under numerous eager glances.
John did not run.
Macao sensibly stepped aside.
Eden gestured for John to follow and glanced at the items in his hand, wanting to see them.
John did not refuse.
Eden drew out the blade, swinging to inspect it.
"Not bad stuff, but taking it out with that arm is suicide."
John couldn’t be bothered to respond and questioned, "How did you find me?"
Eden pointed to a surveillance camera.
"We have your apartment address, knocked and no one answered, Tinfoil checked your connections in the West District and intercepted a message, thinking you might come to the boxing gym."
"Tinfoil?"
"A hacker in my team."
"Damn, just on the terrace... No, wait, cameras can’t capture my image. She can bypass my external camera jammer?"
"She can, but it’s unnecessary. Macao didn’t install it, so we directly searched his footage."
By the time they were already at the parking lot.
A familiar military-coated armored vehicle, top-configured engine, even a corporate combat department would use it for modification.
Eden sat in the passenger seat and said, "Head out of the city."
John then opened the car door, gripped the steering wheel, and drove onto the main road before asking Eden’s purpose.
"So why are you looking for me?"
"I helped you with the Nocturne issue, remember? I’ve been away from the city for a while, just returned, and several intermediaries were inquiring, saying there’s an extremely active freelancer tied to Harbor Company."
"Heh, I never said I worked for you."
"That’s how others see it."
"Mad? You said I could work for you."
"You’re bold and quite restless. I investigated your recent activities in the city; it’s tolerable, didn’t disgust me, so I’ll have you do some work for the company."
[Mission: Roadblock]
[Reward: Special Prosthetic Body]