My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt-Chapter 441 - 272: Advanced Player

Sora maneuvered John’s body into the alley, the slightly warm metal spine just brushing against the wall when a massive explosion echoed from the street beside them.

The attackers halted their vehicle and tossed in a grenade.

The Fafnir they were riding in was burning.

The sound was deafening.

The flames illuminated the street.

The scorched stench of heat poured through the building crevices, blowing at the edges of John’s work jacket.

John furrowed his brow, his temple glistening with sweat.

Retracting his gaze, he cursed.

"Damn it, they leave no survivors."

[Who the hell are they?]

Sora also sensed the enemy wasn’t simple.

"Company dogs, professional soldiers."

[Yeah, tougher than the cops!]

"Bullshit, the cops are city-sponsored billboards, with the worst equipment and the toughest jobs. When on street duty, they don’t even dare to look company dogs in the face."

Bang, rat-a-tat-tat...

John’s words were interrupted by a volley of bullets.

He dodged deeper into the alley.

Sora suppressed the hackers in cyberspace, projecting the hijacked surveillance footage onto John’s retinas.

A fully armed squad was inspecting vehicles.

They confirmed the target had escaped and locked onto the direction, synchronizing information over the communication channel while spreading out to control the whole street.

The spot where John had lingered was instantly filled with ammo.

The wall bricks crumbled to dust.

The buildings on both sides became mottled.

A soda can bomb rolled out of the smoke...

BOOM!

Sora activated Sianweistan, vaulting the fence in two strides.

Bullets chased his shadow, tracing a deep brown arc on the wall, as the wire mesh in between was reduced to construction debris.

"Fuck!"

John felt a bullet hit his back.

Sora was controlling the body, but the senses were shared.

[Subdermal Armor [H3 Spine Area]: 90%]

The damage popup flashed in John’s vision, but Sora hid it in the corner, replacing it with a silly-looking "game health bar."

It seriously deducted health from him!

[They hit me!]

Sora was a bit surprised.

[Did you see that? While running Sianweistan, those blue bullets were chasing me!]

John truly experienced the AI’s immense computational prowess.

Sora could control his body to escape while nonchalantly bantering with him.

John was getting used to it.

His vision wavered to the point of nausea, yet he had the mental space to answer Kenichi Sora’s questions.

"It’s a prediction program, an intelligent plugin designed for time-stopped prosthetics. You can even buy it on the black market, but its effectiveness? Mostly rubbish, a waste of money."

[Really useless? I just got hit by a bullet!]

"Bullshit! Because they have the original stuff. I already guessed who’s trying to kill us: that damned Rongju Company. We hung their senior executive outside a skyscraper, and now they’re sending people to settle the score!"

John’s tone became serious.

"I really warn you, the company soldiers are highly-paid professionals, all these morons do is train, do drugs, modify their bodies and team up to kill."

[Mmm, elite monsters?]

"... ..."

[Relax~ buddy, I know what I’m doing.]

Sora ended the idle chat, quickening his pace, grasping the rusted iron ladder for leverage, swinging off a window ledge, he propelled himself into a rundown apartment hallway.

He landed smoothly, the shock-absorbing prosthetic body nullifying any noise.

The fierce gunfire and explosions seemed isolated outside the concrete walls, replaced by earsplitting rock music and rowdy noise from the cluster of apartments.

Arguments, cursing, bedroom antics.

Living and electronic devices screaming at the top of their lungs!

John just felt annoyed.

Sora found it intriguing, even deliberately slowing his pace to take a deep breath along the hallway—the smell of contraband drugs, cheap perfume, feces, vomit, substandard fast food, and metal decay filled his nostrils.

[Ah~ the scent of life.]

"Damn! I’m gonna puke, get outta here, I don’t want to be executed in a hallway cluttered with bottles and syringes."

John protested strongly.

A searchlight swept through the window, outlining John’s back, casting a distorted shadow along the hallway.

Footsteps approached fast and aggressively.

"They’re coming, diving into rooms won’t shake these mad dogs, you’d better think of another way."

John half-worried, half-reminded.

He knew this AI was playful, so he added a little incentive.

"If we survive this, I’ll treat you to something good! Real food, trust me, Mexican flavors and Japanese charcoal grill both on offer."

[I’m starting to look forward to it.]

Sora seemed at ease.

[But! I’m not planning to run, John, we have to teach them a lesson, let others know you’re not to be messed with!]

He kicked a nearby empty bottle—it spun quickly, knocking over clutter before clattering a few times and dropping through the stairwell gap.

Ding, ding ding, splat!

The glass hit a few times, fell to the second floor, shattering to pieces.

BANG!

The first-floor door burst open.

Company soldiers armed with guns poured into the corridor, their military boots crunching on the glass shards.

Sora raised a hand and hit the fire alarm.

The sprinkler system in the low-rent apartment was defunct, not even a drop trickled from the rusty pipes, but the piercing alarm immediately echoed through the building.

Those drunks and patrons were roused.

Doors flew open one after another near the stairs, soon the area was teeming with agitated brutes.

But the moment they saw the company soldiers, they withered, retreating almost as fast as they emerged, seeking shelter, fearing being shot to pieces at any moment.

Sora operated John’s body, leaning against the wall, slightly raising his head towards the diagonal spider web.

His prosthetic eyes blinked, fingers moving in sync with the upward footsteps in the hallway.

[I took over your prosthetic body privileges and had some time, so I checked the usage records. Honestly, you’re a bit wasteful with your gear.]

"Seriously? We’re talking about this now!?"

John’s lips parted, his voice low.

Company dogs were right below, probably three of them, you could even hear them knocking tenants down with gun butts.

"They’re here!"

Sora seemed oblivious, still muttering in John’s mind.

[Focus, use your body to feel, don’t just think throwing the combat chip at the program is enough!]

He raised an arm, his gaze tracing along a thermal vent.

[Look at the parameters of this alloy skeleton, and this burst-resistant muscle bundle, what do you usually do with them, arm-wrestle?]

John didn’t answer.

The footsteps were closing in.

In his mind, only Sora heard him, but John had to speak to respond.

Stairway entrance.

A silvery-gray smart rifle appeared in the corner of his eye.

Click.

A bone-twisting sound surfaced, mixed with the hallway’s chaos, almost inaudible.

But the soldier wielding the rifle was dead.

Passing Sora, his neck twisted, eyes behind tactical shades bulging, the biological signal in the depths of his pupils hadn’t fully faded.

John froze, looked at the corpse, then stared at his own hand.