"My brain is about to be screwed, the serum said as long as I finish this task and take you out, there’s a way to save !"
John confessed.
Kenichi Sora’s mouth ford an O shape, then quickly pursed, rubbing his chin with his hand, seemingly pondering sothing.
"Wow, I’m kind of... well, scared, maybe you’d say a rogue AI doesn’t even have goosebumps, but anyway, I think the serum has screwed us both. We’re destined to be mixed together!"
"What do you an? Make it clear!"
"I’ll explain it to you, but not now, the server has completely scanned us out, let’s talk once we’re out. Oh right, I have a way to save your brain, not bragging, I assure you!"
Kenichi Sora opened his arms, smiling.
"Co on!"
[Mission Objective Updated]
[Accept Trade. (Optional)]
[Detach Headband. (Optional)]
"Alright then, I bet!"
John didn’t blindly trust the rogue AI, he’d verified earlier—Black Light can interrupt the serum’s interference, forcibly extracting his consciousness.
"Great, see you in reality!"
Kenichi Sora clapped his hands together, shattering the ga screen.
The transfer process felt like being spun three hundred-odd tis anticlockwise in an office chair.
John felt his consciousness stretched, twisted, and reassembled, witnessing rows of data matrices in cyberspace, brushing past him like teors.
[Eden City - Dan Street Apartnt No. 013]
"Urgh—"
John removed the smoking headband, tore off the neural interface, and leaned over the trash can, vomiting uncontrollably.
The air was filled with a pungent beer sll.
He struggled to stand up straight at the sink, seeing shadows of data flow in his pupils, blood sared around his nostrils, limbs cold, slowly regaining control.
"Fuck, this is worse than a hangover!"
[Hmm, probably uncomfortable...]
A familiar voice echoed in his mind.
"Shit! Kenichi Sora!?"
John frowned and growled, looking around at the floor and the disconnected virtual headband.
Black Light swept the entire apartnt server but found the data connection coming from John’s own body.
He wiped steam from the mirror, seeing his neck’s [Special Inhibitor] chip flashing.
"WTF!? You’re in my head?"
[Wrong, I’m in your belly, get ready, I’m going to kick your balls, haha—just kidding, bro, but we’re indeed out of the server.]
Kenichi Sora’s voice echoed in John’s mind.
Crunch.
John pulled out the chip from his neck, the rogue AI’s voice imdiately vanishing from his mind.
[Data Access Detected/Unknown User]
[Warning!]
Dan Street Apartnt’s server greeted an uninvited guest, like soone going wild on the local network.
John breathed a sigh of relief.
The rogue AI hadn’t taken over his body, his personality dominance remained, and control of his body was still his.
But he couldn’t let "Kenichi Sora" roam outside.
After all, Internet Surveillance is not idle; if he leaves Dan Street Apartnt’s server, hovercars would surround the West District within two minutes, even more exaggerated than last ti!
Crunch.
John inserted the chip back into his neck.
[Oh, finally, bro, we’re in the sa boat now, you can’t leave out like that!]
"You’re the one who scared first, honestly, what’s the situation now!"
[I’m not in your body, your flesh can’t host a rogue AI’s size with just a small chip, co to the window, let show you...]
Whoosh—
John turned on the faucet to wash away the blood, leaving the workroom, and entered the familiar apartnt living room.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window, a deep blue city was visible.
The vibrant holographic ads forcibly twisted the city’s night, seemingly igniting an entire steel forest.
[Bro, the room layout is great, are you single? Living alone here must be aweso! I’ve seen many hackers’ dens, not kidding, even a two-foot pool’s considered high-end, ssy wiring, instant food boxes piling in corners rotting, like a garbage heap!]
"You’re talking a bit much, wait, you can see my room?"
John paused on the tal staircase.
Black Light blocked the entire apartnt’s server, there were no closed-circuit caras installed, and the TV and rendering equipnt weren’t activated, how could it see?
[Ah, I thought you knew, this chip is amazing, I seem to be able to directly share your senses, different from data feedback, more like a neural impulse!]
"What’s the difference?"
John asked casually.
Kenichi Sora seed ready to jump out of the chip, as if sharing sothing incredible, desperately explaining to John.
Temperature, humidity, pain index, for AI, are just commands.
They can adjust accordingly based on your feedback, set paraters, the computational capacity akin to a drop of water.
But to make AI "understand" such touch, the data volu required is comparable to a swimming pool.
[Every tiny mont of humans, for us, is like a database’s entirety, bro, it’s exhilarating, I beg you not to take out the chip, I’ll do anything in return.]
"You’re talking more and more twisted."
John waved his hand to open the curtains, slumped on the sunken sofa.
"We’ve already talked about the price, right? I want to survive, it’s that simple, as long as you can achieve it, I’m open to anything!"
[No problem, bro, take a look at this.]
[File Transfer/Source Identification Failed, Scan Retry...]
John received a severely truncated project brief.
[Product Na: EUROPHASARK[Neural Ark]
"What’s this?"
John knew nothing about tech products, let alone most stuff in the file being deleted, like a crude scam ssage.
[Exactly, isn’t half-lted brain it? EUROPHASARK is the world’s most advanced biological experint project, guaranteed to cure you, the serum knows I have this resource, that’s why you’re here to fetch .]
"I feel like you’re bullshitting?"
John slouched back into the sofa.
"Show so proof!"
[File Transfer/Decompressing...]
John received a new file.
It was a dical report, recording detailed admission and treatnt progress, along with patient’s photos.
It was a defiant-looking Arican, very young, two nails on the eyebrow, holding a gun towards the cara, the neck area showing Sianweistan’s spine lights.
"Who is he?"
[Martin Remington, records show he’s the longest surviving user among all ’Martyr GTX’ users worldwide!]
John felt a jolt of electricity across his scalp.
He rembered the na.
In Sakura Cross Street’s funeral ho, Sugar Bean Man once ntioned soone survived after using Martyr, he’s also a legendary rcenary, goes by Martin Remington.
John sat up straight, diligently perusing the dossier.
The dical report had nurous photos, looked bloody, but indeed captured Martin lying on the operating table.
His arm had a countdown like John’s.
All the numbers had cleared, even turned deep red, like a glaring scar burned on the left arm.
```
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