Death lost its meaning on the third day.
By the fourth, Ethan had learned something even worse.
In Night City, surviving wasn't the reward. Getting the chance to keep playing was.
Over the next few days, Ethan logged into Night City with the discipline of a man clocking in for a second life.
Every twenty-four hours, the cooldown on Samsara would end.
Every twenty-four hours, he would return.
And every twenty-four hours, Night City would find a fresh new way to kill him.
At first, Ethan had been optimistic.
"It's beginner village," he'd muttered on day one, full of confidence. "How hard can it be?"
A few days later, he wanted to go back in time and slap himself for saying it.
Hard?
Night City had turned "hard" into an art form.
The game notifications alone felt like a personal mockery written by a sadist.
[O Dreamer full of passion, you step out of your apartment and accidentally get caught in a jewelry store robbery. The NCPD arrives immediately and opens fire on the robbers in the street. ]
[You are unfortunately struck by a stray bullet. Unable to receive treatment in time, you bleed out in an alley. ]
[You have died. ]
...
[O Dreamer full of passion, you step outside once more, ready to show your worth to Night City. Unfortunately, your fresh, healthy body attracts the attention of the Tyger Claws. ]
[You are knocked unconscious and dragged into a flesh workshop used to produce illegal black braindance recordings. Recording equipment is installed on your body. You are tortured, abused, and dissected for raw footage. ]
[Your organs are harvested and sold through scavenger channels. They are later destined for Twist Street, where even corpses can still be turned into profit. ]
[You die in extreme agony. ]
[You have died. ]
...
[Reborn again, still full of passion, you carefully avoid dangerous-looking individuals and walk with extreme caution. ]
[You are struck by a speeding Caliburn traveling at over 200 miles per hour. Your body is thrown into the air. Bones shatter. Your skull collides with a roadside utility pole. Death is instantaneous. ]
[The driver looks at your corpse, spits once in disgust, and speeds away. ]
[You have died. ]
Ethan stared at the screen with dead eyes.
Then he slowly leaned back in his chair and covered his face.
"This city is insane."
Killed by cops.
Kidnapped by gangs.
Run over while walking.
At this point, Gotham looked like a wellness retreat.
He genuinely couldn't imagine what the experience was like for players who didn't have Samsara. Without the ability to rewind after death, most of them probably lasted about as long as a melee minion running into a tower.
The game was trash.
Completely unfair.
Deeply abusive.
And Ethan logged in again the moment the cooldown ended.
Because under all the rage, he understood something important.
Night City was merciless, but it was also consistent.
Every death taught him something.
Never trust the street to be empty.
Never assume the police were the "safe" side.
Never think caution alone was enough.
And above all—
Night City never cared whether you were ready.
So Ethan kept coming back.
He explored. He observed. He tested what the game would and wouldn't allow. Between classes, meals, and pretending to be a normal college student in Seabrook University District, he lived a second life inside that blood-soaked neon simulation.
Then, on the fourth day, during advanced mathematics class, things finally changed.
As usual, the classroom was only technically a place of learning.
The professor was flipping through short videos on his phone behind the podium. Half the class had turned into decorative corpses. The other half was pretending to be alive through sheer caffeine and stubbornness.
Ethan lowered his head, summoned the game screen through the hidden V-mark on his arm, and chose the option he had come to trust the most.
[Go Out and Explore]
Waiting in the apartment had proven useless. Fixers still hadn't contacted him. Four days had passed, and in all that time, not one middleman had thrown him a job, a call, or even an insult.
At this point, staying inside was just a slower version of dying.
The prompt rolled forward.
[O Dreamer who has endured many hardships, you once again choose to leave your apartment in search of opportunity. ]
[You step into the streets of Pacifica. From a nearby alley, you hear a girl screaming for help, followed by violent gunfire. ]
Ethan's expression sharpened.
He leaned closer.
[Relying on the trial-and-error experience granted by Samsara, you approach with stealth and discover a group of Scavs surrounding two girls. At gunpoint, they are forcing them into a van. ]
A cold weight settled in Ethan's chest.
He already knew what that meant.
Scavs didn't take people.
They took inventory.
If those girls got into the van, they were finished. Organs stripped, bodies ruined, deaths sold for profit.
The game continued.
[The Scavs outnumber you, and you are unarmed. Even if you intervene, your heroics may amount to nothing more than one additional corpse. ]
[Weak Dreamer, will you watch them be taken away? ]
Two choices appeared.
[Step Forward]
[Wait and See]
Ethan cursed under his breath.
"No gun. No knife. No chrome. No support. You call this a mercenary start?"
He rubbed his temple and stared at the options.
This was the kind of choice Night City loved—one where morality and survival sat on opposite sides of a knife edge.
If he stepped in, he would probably die.
If he did nothing, the girls would definitely die.
Normally, Ethan liked to think of himself as practical. Calm. Rational. Not the kind of idiot who jumped into hopeless situations for strangers.
But Samsara had changed the equation.
He could come back.
They couldn't.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then, half-serious and half-curious, he spoke to the screen.
"What do they look like?"
To his shock, the game answered.
[Appearance evaluation: 9/10. ]
Ethan sat upright instantly.
"Then of course I'm saving them."
He clicked [Step Forward] without hesitation.
His tone was shameless, but his mind was already moving fast.
If there was even a small chance to interfere, he had to test it.
The text advanced—
—and the scene took a violent turn.
[You roll up your sleeves, grab a steel pipe from beside the alley, and prepare for a heroic rescue. ]
[You take cover behind a dumpster, ready to strike a Scav in the head from behind. ]
[Boom boom boom boom boom—! ]
Ethan's eyes widened.
[In an instant, the exposed rebar inside the surrounding buildings erupts from the concrete like a swarm of metal serpents. They spear through the Scavs' bodies, ripping them apart mid-scream. Flesh bursts. Blood floods the alley. ]
He stopped breathing for a second.
The next line hit even harder.
[One of the girls raises her hand. Her fingers spread. The steel bars twist in the air as if obeying an invisible command, wrapping around the remaining Scavs and crushing them alive. ]
["Die, you scum!" she screams, her laughter wild and frenzied. ]
[The side of the Scav van is torn open. The surviving Scavs flee in panic. The two girls chase after them, leaving behind a trail of shattered steel, blood, and mangled bodies. ]
[In the distance, NCPD sirens scream. Hovercars rush in and join the chaos. ]
Ethan stared at the screen.
Then he blinked.
Then he read it again.
"Metal control?"
A slow, pained expression spread across his face.
"She got that, and I got turned into roadkill three times?"
Both were players—he was almost certain of it now.
That girl had some kind of absurd, high-end talent that let her manipulate metal like it was alive. The visual alone was outrageous. Rebar bursting from walls. Steel twisting like living snakes. That wasn't just strong.
That was stylish.
That was the kind of power people fantasized about.
Ethan looked at his own skill again.
Samsara.
Incredibly broken.
Incredibly powerful.
And somehow still less visually impressive than a girl turning an alley into a steel blender.
He sighed through clenched teeth.
"This game has favorites."
Another prompt appeared.
[The battle in the distance grows fiercer. Bullets fly. Sirens wail. Fortunately, the dumpster concealing you is large enough to perfectly hide your existence. Truly worthy of a Dreamer favored by fate. ]
Ethan's eye twitched.
"You're mocking me. You are absolutely mocking me."
Still, he kept reading.
And then came the first reward that made all the suffering feel worthwhile.
[Lucky Dreamers are always lucky. ]
[When you look back into the alley, aside from the gore and the dismembered Scav corpses, you notice a black briefcase lying on the ground. ]
[You remember it falling from the van during the chaos. ]
[Do you want to take it? ]
Ethan's pulse jumped.
A drop.
A real drop.
His first actual loot.
He immediately chose [Yes].
The game described him carrying the black case back to his apartment and opening it. A list of items appeared.
[Weapon: Lexington Kinetic Pistol (E-grade), Damage 10–13 ]
[Hacker Chip: Militech Parallel Line (E-grade), Base RAM: 2, Buffer Size: 4. Allows quickhacking of devices and targets at slower speed. Implant requirement: Intelligence 3. ]
[Martial Arts Chip: Kerenzikov Arm 400 (E+ grade), greatly enhances physical coordination and melee performance. Implant requirement: Body 5. ]
[The above items have entered your inventory. Do you wish to extract them? ]
Ethan's heartbeat instantly accelerated.
Extraction.
So this was it.
The point where the game stopped being suspicious... and became terrifyingly real.
He could pull items out of Night City and into reality.
A gun, a chip, cyberware—any of them could become tangible in his world.
For a moment, his mind flooded with possibilities.
Then logic kicked in.
Extracting a pistol in the middle of math class would probably stop the lesson in a way the professor would never recover from. The melee chip required more Body than he currently had, so it was unusable.
That left one obvious choice.
The hacker chip.
Ethan selected Militech Parallel Line.
A cool metallic object materialized in his palm.
He stiffened.
Even after seeing the V-mark, the game screen, the upside-down Night City in the sky—this still felt impossible.
The chip was real.
Solid.
Cold.
It looked like a sleek silver data implant, with yellow alloy ports set into its surface and a neat row of contact pins below.
Then another prompt appeared.
[You have obtained cyberware. Chip implantation transfer is now available. ]
[Insert the chip into the V-mark to complete compatible auto-installation. ]
Ethan exhaled in relief.
At least he didn't have to cut open the back of his head like a real cyberpunk lunatic.
He glanced around once to make sure nobody was watching, then pressed the chip against the glowing V-mark hidden under his sleeve.
The mark pulsed.
The chip sank into the light as though being swallowed by liquid metal.
A chill raced up Ethan's arm.
The next instant, the text flashed before him.
[You have implanted: Militech Parallel Line (E-grade) ]
[Current cyberware load: 50 / 300 ]
[Warning: When cyberware load exceeds the limit, neural backlash may occur, causing irreversible damage to the central nervous system and even the soul. Madness, distortion, and total collapse may follow. ]
[Please increase your modifications cautiously. ]
Ethan's expression changed.
So that was the cost.
Power in Night City always came with teeth hidden inside it.
Too much chrome, too much dependence, too much greed—and eventually, the implants bit back.
Before he could dwell on it further, his entire world transformed.
The first thing he noticed was the brightness.
Everything around him lit up.
Not with normal light, but with layers upon layers of invisible information. Smartphones, laptops, tablets, smartwatches—every electronic device in the classroom suddenly glowed in his perception like miniature suns.
Streams of data shimmered around them.
Ethan's pupils contracted.
When he focused on one stream, it separated.
Text messages.
App notifications.
Gallery previews.
Financial records.
Chat histories.
All of it was there, laid bare before his eyes like transparent skin over a living digital skeleton.
His breathing slowed.
His mind sharpened.
This wasn't just hacking.
This was data perspective.
An information-level x-ray vision.
Even though the chip was only E-grade, against modern technology, it was like dropping a military drone into a kindergarten science fair.
With enough focus, Ethan felt he could probably drain money, rewrite systems, or invade private devices with terrifying ease.
That realization made him sit still for several seconds.
The value of a gun was obvious.
The value of this chip was much, much worse.
This could destroy lives without making a sound.
And naturally, the very first thing Ethan did with this frightening new power... was use it to snoop on his classmates.
His gaze shifted left.
One girl's phone lit up.
He frowned.
"Four girls in one dorm," he thought, "and they made seven separate group chats?"
Another layer appeared.
He nearly laughed.
"So they do have a backup group for talking about the main group."
His eyes moved again.
A boy in the second row had hidden a gaming window behind a document file.
No, not gaming.
Ethan blinked.
"Hentai game? On campus Wi-Fi? You fearless maniac."
He checked one more line.
"Oh. The dean's nephew." Ethan leaned back. "That explains the confidence."
He continued scanning.
Someone from the neighboring class turned out to be a cross-dressing streamer with over one hundred thousand followers.
A couple in the same dorm were secretly dating while fooling all their roommates.
One girl had three different men sending her suspiciously romantic transfers on Valentine's Day.
Another guy—who loudly flirted with men online—apparently had a girlfriend back in his hometown.
Ethan stared at the data scrolling in front of him and felt his worldview taking repeated blunt-force trauma.
Seabrook University was truly a place of hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
Everyone looked ordinary on the surface.
But once the data peeled back, the whole campus was chaos in human form.
He was halfway between amusement and disbelief when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.
"Bro Ethan!"
He looked up.
The speaker was his classmate, Tang Fa—a guy everyone privately called Perm because of his permanently overstyled hair and unshakable confidence. Tang Fa firmly believed he was a once-in-a-millennium handsome man whose true beauty was merely being suppressed by acne scars.
Ethan personally believed reality had never supported this theory.
Tang Fa shoved his phone forward with a grin so wide it almost split his face.
"Look at this girl I met online," he said excitedly. "We've been chatting through two whole classes. I already set a date for tonight—Japanese food!"
On the screen was a soft-looking girl in a camisole, with long legs, fair skin, and watery eyes.
At a glance, she was stunning.
At a second glance, she looked... slightly too perfect.
Ethan didn't even need the hacker chip for this one.
But now that he had it, the answer was immediate.
Filters layered over filters.
Angles altered.
Proportions subtly corrected.
It wasn't catastrophic editing, but it was definitely edited.
Tang Fa was still talking, clearly pleased with himself.
"This time I didn't even show her pictures of my family's properties," he said proudly. "All pure charm."
Ethan looked at the image, then at Tang Fa, then back at the image.
"Don't you think the beauty filter is a little too strong?" he asked flatly.
Tang Fa's smile froze.
Then his face turned red.
"A little filter doesn't count," he protested. "That's just social etiquette now! Everyone uses filters!"
He kept talking for several seconds before suddenly stopping.
"Wait," he said slowly. "I didn't show you the chat history. How did you know she used filters?"
Ethan's expression didn't change.
"With your judgment? It wasn't hard to guess."
Then he delivered the killing blow.
"Don't get your hopes up. That photo's edited."
Tang Fa looked offended to his soul.
"No way."
He stared at the picture again, scanning every detail as if love and justice demanded it.
"No way," he repeated. "Impossible. This is natural. This is real."
Ethan stood, slipping his textbook into his bag.
"If you don't believe me, go see for yourself."
Tang Fa shot up, indignant. "You're just jealous I got a date before you, Ye—"
He caught himself, then changed it.
"Before you, Ethan!"
Ethan smirked and headed for the cafeteria.
Behind him, Tang Fa was still muttering in wounded disbelief, clutching his phone like a man defending his faith.
Ethan didn't argue further.
He had already seen enough data to know one thing for certain.
Tonight's date was not going to match the photo.
And more importantly—
If an E-grade hacker chip could already let him see this much, then the world around him had become a field of unlocked doors.
Banking systems.
Private messages.
Security feeds.
Identity records.
Secrets.
Money.
Power.
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
This was no longer just a game advantage.
This was the beginning of a completely different way of seeing the world.
A dangerous way.
A god-like way.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, deeper than the humor, deeper than the thrill, another thought quietly formed:
If Night City could give him this much so early... then what exactly was it turning him into?
That night, while Tang Fa happily headed toward his "dream date," Ethan looked at the hidden V-mark on his arm and felt the weight of the future pressing closer.
He had survived long enough to get his first piece of chrome.
He had seen what other players were capable of.
And for the first time—
he finally had the means to stop being prey.
But in Night City, the moment you gained the power to hunt...
...was usually the exact moment something far worse started hunting you back.