TL.N The Mr. FLoyd is likely to change as its annoying to constantly read
"Ayumi… Ayumi!"
Ayumi Ito froze mid-step. A half-second passed before she turned, as if snapping out of a trance, and gave a quick, apologetic bow to the man calling her name.
"S-Sorry! I'm so sorry. I didn't hear you right away!"
Brock Gord scratched the back of his neck mildly amused. "No need to panic. And really, you don't have to be that formal with me."
He waved it off, moving the conversation along. "Anyway, since you're just starting out here at our studio, there's no urgent work lined up for you yet. Lucky timing, though. The company's running a new talent contest, and we could use another pair of eyes."
He gestured toward the nearby table, where a towering stack of manga manuscripts had been dumped like bricks. The pile came up to Ayumi's chest.
"There are thirteen entries altogether. According to the contest rules, each one's at least ten chapters or 150 pages. Should keep you busy for a while."
It made sense to give them to Ayumi. These were all submissions from rookie artists, and she was a new editor. A trial run, in a way.
"You want me to choose the best ones?" she asked, her voice tinged with nerves. "How many should I pick?"
"No pressure," Brock replied casually. "If none stand out, feel free to pass on all of them. But if something does catch your eye, just pick it out and bring them to me."
"Got it!" Ayumi nodded, lifting the stack carefully and hauling it back to her desk.
Once she was alone again, she exhaled quietly, a mix of relief and determination in her breath. Just a few weeks ago, she'd joined Genco Culture, one of the top ten manga companies in the world. It still didn't feel real. The people here were kind, the work meaningful. It was the dream job she'd worked toward for years.
"Ayumi," she whispered to herself, "if you want to stay, you have to earn it. Start with this. Give it everything."
She glanced at the tower of manuscripts, took the top one, and began reading.
The title was The Sorcerer King. The art was competent. The story hit the usual shounen beats, passion, rivalry, power-ups. Ayumi flipped through page after page, but even with all its polish, it left her cold.
"Is this… considered good?" she wondered aloud, unsure of what standard to trust yet.
She was supposed to pick out stories to the Editor in Chief. This one was technically sound, sure, but it didn't move her.
"I'll put this aside and come back to it later."
She moved on.
The next one. And the next. Then a few more.
The Immortal Path… seems decent.
The Spellcaster of Darkness… also okay.
Lord of the Fire Dragon… not bad, I guess…
Seven entries in, and she'd found six that were just fine. Only one was a clear reject, its art rough and rushed. The others… they looked clean. The pacing was okay. But nothing stuck.
They were stories without heart. Solid execution, no soul.
Had Brock seen them, he probably would've tossed them all out. The formulas were obvious. The beats were predictable. No emotional hook, no unique voice. No staying power.
If a story didn't linger in your mind or stir something in your chest… it wouldn't survive the market.
Ayumi sighed and reached for the tenth manuscript.
Her brow furrowed as she read the title aloud. "Cyberpunk 2077: Edgerunners?" The name stood out, it was oddly long, strangely specific, nothing like the others.
She opened the cover, curious.
The first panel showed a boy in a yellow trench coat, face hidden beneath shadow, narrating over a neon-lit skyline.
"In 2077, the city I live in was voted the worst place to live."
"Why? Violent crime is rampant…"
"The highest poverty rate in the country…"
The visuals were striking, gritty, stylish, alive. Flying vehicles zipped between towering skyscrapers. Glowing billboards bathed the streets in electric light. Cyborgs walked beside humans like it was normal.
"That's the reality. And yet, people still flock here."
"Because this city offers something… a chance to become 'A Legend'."
"Maybe it's an illusion, maybe it's a lie. But it's close enough to touch… and that's what makes it so cruel."
Ayumi felt a chill creep up her spine. This didn't read like fiction. It felt like a warning.
The protagonist's name was David Martinez. The city he lived in, Night City.
But strangely, the story didn't start with him.
Instead, it opened in chaos, a gunman storming the streets, mowing down armed police in the middle of the night.
Ayumi blinked, confused but intrigued.
The attacker moved with terrifying precision, not even flinching under return fire. Police chatter filled the panels.
"It's a cyberpsycho! Call MaxTac!"
Cyberpsycho? Was that some terrorist faction? A villain group?
She had no idea. But whatever it was, this story had something different. The tension in every frame, the raw energy, Ayumi couldn't look away.
"Why didn't that guy fear bullets?" she murmured, eyes glued to the page. "Is it some kind of power?"
She kept reading, eager for answers.
No magic. No superpowers. Just tech, body modifications and cybernetic implants. In this world, people enhanced their bodies with machines to become stronger and faster.
But there was a catch.
The more enhancements a person had, the more fragile their mind became. Eventually, the human brain couldn't take the load, and when that happened, they snapped. Lost all reason. Became monsters of metal and madness.
They had a name, Cyberpsychos.
Ayumi's heart skipped.
So that's why the man didn't flinch. He wasn't fearless. He was broken.
She leaned in closer.
The story shifted. David's life was nothing like the one the opening suggested. He was just a high schooler. Poor, bullied by rich kids. Living in a cramped apartment with his mother. A city that promised greatness that had given him nothing but pain.
Then while his mother and him were arguing in the car, out of nowhere, they were caught in a gang shootout.
Their car exploded in the crossfire.
Ayumi turned the page anxiously wanting to know what happened. Rescue had arrived.
"Trauma Team," David called them.
Thank god, she thought. They're going to be okay.
But on the next page, the cold truth hit.
The armored medics scanned the victims.
"They're not clients. And neither is the woman."
"To ensure the safety of our paying customers, leave them for corpse pickup."
Then they left. No second glance.
Ayumi's hands clenched. "How could they…?"
David and his mother ended up in a broken clinic barely holding itself together. Moments later, his mother was gone. No tearful goodbye. Just silence. Ashes.
Then came a discovery,something hidden in their home. A piece of military-grade cyberware: the Sandevistan. Something his mother had secretly kept.
That night, David was beaten again by the same rich punk who always mocked him.
But this time… something changed.
Ayumi felt it in her chest. The turn. The spark.
"This… this is where it starts," she whispered. "He's not going to take it anymore."
With grief and rage burning inside him, David walked into a black market clinic.
He stared at the ripperdoc and said:
"Implant it. The Sandevistan."
Ayumi flipped the next page.
And stopped.
That was it. Three full chapters, gone in a blink.
She looked at the counter. Over 100 pages read, and she hadn't noticed the time pass.
Unlike the others, this story pulled her in and wouldn't let go. It was the kind of manuscript you remembered.
"This is it," she whispered, eyes shining. "This one's special."
She sat up straight, heart racing. The art was bold and clean. The pacing, razor sharp. The world: dark, vivid, unforgettable. But most importantly, it made her feel.
She flipped back to the cover, eyes scanning for the creator's name.
There it was, in one bold line.
Kyle Floyd.
"Mr. Floyd…" she murmured, almost reverently.
"I'll remember your name."
1330 Words.