The Witcher: Chimera Part 2, 2077
Chapter One: Questions and Artifacts
…
The fluorescent lights of the station flickered, casting cold, clinical illumination over the collection laid out on the steel examination table. Every officer and lab technician in the room stood frozen, staring at the objects as if they might explode, or worse.
"What the hell... are these?" muttered Detective Alarez, her voice tinged with unease.
The table was an amalgamation of contradictions. The weapons and gear spread out on the table defied categorization, existing in a liminal space between art, science, and myth.
At the far end, Veylan's steel and silver swords gleamed under the harsh light. The silver sword shimmered faintly with a crystalline structure within the blade, its core forged from meteorite ore and a layer of pure silver infused with veins of some glowing mineral. The steel sword, meanwhile, exuded raw power, jagged yet meticulously crafted, with faint runic engravings running along its blade.
"Those metals... they're not in any database," said one tech nervously, her augmented eyes flickering as her implant scanned the composition. "The silver's... silver, sure, but the crystalline matrix and the meteorite alloy, these don't exist in our world."
Next came the damascus steel dagger, its intricate patterns like rippling water frozen in time. Microrunes, almost invisible unless magnified, danced across its surface, glowing faintly as if alive.
One technician had made the mistake of touching the dagger directly. He yelped, withdrawing his hand as a faint hum reverberated through the room. "It felt like it was vibrating, like it was... aware."
The lab was already uneasy, but the items that drew the most attention were the rings and dagger with the black stone.
The dagger, resting ominously on a velvet cloth, pulsed faintly with an otherworldly energy. Its silvery-black blade seemed to devour the light around it, and the black gemstone embedded in its hilt emitted an unsettling aura.
"It's... dark matter," whispered Dr. Norren, the lab's chief physicist, his voice shaky. "Or something close to it. This shouldn't exist in any form like this, it's stable."
The matching ring sat beside the dagger. Its surface was unnervingly smooth, black as a starless void along with a blood red gem on the top, with no visible seams. A faint, pulsating energy radiated from it, as though the two items were connected.
"What kind of man carries gear made from... this?" Norren muttered.
"Not a man," Alarez answered grimly, glancing toward the interrogation room.
The golden ring with the green gemstone seemed almost mundane by comparison, until closer inspection revealed impossibly fine carvings around the band. Ancient, regal, the kind of craftsmanship that seemed fit for a king.
Then there was the ring with the silver and blue gemstone, its surface etched with Norse runes intertwined with unfamiliar markings. The energy emanating from it felt different, calm, almost... protective.
The last ring, however, unnerved everyone in the room. It was a black-metal band, smooth but heavy, with a crest no one could identify. The material was beyond indestructible; drills, lasers, and even plasma cutters had failed to scratch it.
"It's not even on the periodic table," said another tech, staring at his analysis with wide eyes. "What is this guy, an alien?"
And finally, there was the medallion.
It sat at the center of the table like a grim sentinel, its tarnished silver surface depicting a snarling beast, a hybrid creature with traits of multiple predators. Wolf, lion, serpent, eagle, the sigil of the Chimera School.
"Looks like an animal, but... not one we've ever seen," muttered Alarez. "Every scan we've run comes back with biological heat signatures. Like the damn thing's alive."
They had barely scratched the surface when things started to go wrong.
One tech, a rookie eager to impress, decided to attempt a more thorough scan of the dagger with the black gemstone. As soon as the device engaged, the lights in the lab flickered violently. The energy in the room shifted, and a low, ominous hum filled the air.
"Shut it off!" Norren barked, but it was too late.
The gemstone flared with dark, pulsating light, and the device short-circuited in a shower of sparks. Then, without warning, the dagger twitched, moved, like it was alive.
Everyone froze.
The room fell into an unnatural silence, broken only by the faint sound of the gemstone's hum. The dagger didn't stop there. Slowly, almost mockingly, it turned on its side, as if some invisible force were manipulating it.
"Is... is it alive?" whispered someone.
"No," Norren said. "It's worse. It's... aware."
The hum grew louder, and suddenly the matching black ring flared to life, its energy syncing with the dagger. The connection between them was apparent at this point, an invisible thread tying the two objects together.
Alarez slammed the emergency shutoff switch, but the damage was done.
"This... isn't tech," she said, her voice low, almost reverent. "
…
Meanwhile, in the Interrogation Room...
Veylan sat in the cold, metal chair, his back straight, his gaze fixed on V.
The Witcher had been calm, measured, but V could feel the raw power radiating from the man. Even Johnny Silverhand, flickering at the edge of his vision, had gone unusually quiet.
"So," V began, leaning forward. "You wanna tell me what the hell all that stuff out there is? 'Cause whatever it is, it's got my people losing their shit."
Veylan's cat-like eyes narrowed slightly, his tone even. "My swords. My tools. My... history."
"Yeah, well, your history is making scientists wet their pants," V replied. "They're saying your gear's not from this world. And that dagger? That's something straight outta a horror vid."
Veylan tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "They should leave the dagger alone. It doesn't like to be touched."
Johnny chuckled darkly. "Oh, that's comforting."
V leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You're a long way from home, pal. If you want me to help you, you need to be straight with me. What are you? And what do you want?"
For a long moment, Veylan said nothing. Then he reached up, pulling the Chimera medallion from beneath his armor.
"This," he said, holding it up, "is who I am. A Witcher. A hunter. And where I'm from... monsters like me walk the earth."
The medallion shimmered faintly, its aura growing stronger as if reacting to Veylan's words.
"And now," he added, his voice growing cold, "your world is in danger. Because if I'm here... it means something could have followed me."
Veylan leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the cold, metal table as he studied V. His amber-green cat-like eyes glinted in the dim light, casting an almost predatory air. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that hinted at ancient knowledge and unspoken horrors.
"You want to know what's out there? In my world? Let's start with the Conjunction of the Spheres."
V tilted his head slightly, arms crossed, trying to maintain his composure, though the intensity in Veylan's gaze was laser focused. "A long time ago, thousands of years, my world wasn't so different from yours," Veylan began, his tone even but edged with something deeper. "Humans lived on their own worlds, unburdened by the things that haunt the Continent now. Then came the Conjunction of the Spheres."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"What's that supposed to mean?" V asked cautiously.
"The Conjunction…" Veylan's eyes flicked up toward the ceiling for a moment, as though staring at something far beyond it. "It was a cosmic event. Cataclysmic. Multiple dimensions, different realities, different spheres of existence, were smashed together, overlapping like layers of shattered glass. It displaced entire peoples, entire species, forcing them into new worlds."
He gestured with one hand, as if drawing invisible spheres in the air. "The humans where I'm from? They weren't always native to the Continent. They were brought there by the Conjunction, scattered into a land already filled with creatures… beasts… monsters that came from other spheres."
Veylan's voice dropped slightly, taking on a darker edge. "Leshens, ancient spirits bound to forests, with bark and branch and a murder of crows at their command. Kikimoras, insectoid nightmares that build nests from bones. Rock trolls, giants, cyclopes, dragons, succubi, and things that defy naming. Monsters and creatures, all of them, scattered across the world like seeds in a storm."
V stayed silent, his usual confidence tempered by the weight of Veylan's words. Johnny Silverhand, standing nearby in his usual spectral form, raised an eyebrow. His casual posture faltered slightly.
"And then there's me," Veylan continued, gesturing to himself. "I'm no ordinary Witcher. Far from it. The path to what I am began with monsters, but not in the way you'd think."
V shifted forward, intrigued. "What's a Witcher, exactly?"
"Hunters," Veylan said bluntly. "We're created, made, to fight the monsters left behind by the Conjunction. Ordinary men can't kill the things that hunt in the night, not without dying horribly. So, Witchers are forged in alchemical fire, mutated with elixirs, herbs, and the blood of beasts. We become faster, stronger, able to see in the dark and fight what no one else can."
He paused, his gaze growing distant. "Most Witchers come from children… orphans… taken in and subjected to the Trials. They don't survive. But me? I wasn't just taken."
Veylan leaned back in his chair, his voice cold. "I was kidnapped. Rogue sorcerers and alchemists found me when I was a boy. They said I had Elder Blood, a rare lineage that should only manifest in girls. That bloodline grants power over magic, space, and time itself."
"Elder Blood?" V asked, frowning.
Veylan nodded. "They experimented on me, twisted me into something beyond a Witcher. They mixed me with creatures… drowners to enhance my lungs, dopplers so I could sense shifts in people, even a Marr, a wraith-like being that feeds on nightmares. They wanted me to be their weapon. A Chimera."
V's eyebrows rose slightly. Even Johnny blinked at that.
Veylan's voice grew softer, but no less dangerous. "And then, there's my heritage. My mother was an elf, but not just any elf. Her father was a higher vampire, an ancient being that was more reasonable than some others. His father before him? An Unseen Elder, a vampire so old and powerful that even other vampires fear him."
V exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Jesus… and I thought Night City was fucked up."
"That's only scratching the surface," Veylan said, his tone dry but his eyes unwavering. "For two thousand years, humans, elves, and monsters have fought for survival on the Continent. I was cursed to fight in the shadows, to hunt what shouldn't exist."
"And these… hags you mentioned?" V asked, trying to steer the conversation.
Veylan's expression darkened. "The Crones. Hag-like witches who control entire swamps. They serve something older than themselves, something crueler. They banished me here, to your world, to another sphere. A world where there's no magic, no monsters. No Kikimoras. No Leshens. Just humans and their machines."
He leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto V. "But tell me something." His eyes flicked to Johnny, who stood rigid now, his usual smirk replaced with shock. "That guy next to you. The one with the silver arm. How come no one else can see or hear him?"
Johnny stiffened, his holographic form flickering for a brief moment. V froze, his breath catching. "Wait, how the hell can you-?"
"I see him plain as day," Veylan interrupted. "And I hear him. Probably because he's a ghost of some kind. Though if I had to guess, it takes someone with eyes like mine and senses like mine to see him."
Johnny blinked, his posture shifting into defensive defiance. "Alright, now I'm officially creeped out. How the hell can you see me?"
Veylan gave him a small, knowing smile. "You're not as invisible as you think, spirit."
V shook his head, still processing what he'd just heard. "You're telling me you've got… magical senses? And they can see Johnny?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Veylan said, leaning back in his chair again, his gaze shifting toward Johnny. "Though I'm guessing you're not exactly just a 'ghost.' Are you?"
Johnny's holographic arms crossed over his chest, his glare cutting through the tension. "Buddy, you're a long way from home, so don't go poking around in my business. I've got my own shit to deal with."
Veylan tilted his head. "You're tied to him, though. I can feel it. There's a connection. Almost like…" He trailed off, his cat-like eyes narrowing slightly. "A curse."
Johnny's jaw tightened. "Something like that."
V rubbed his temples. "Okay, we're getting way off track. Let's get back to the part where your monsters and your gear are making half the station crap their pants."
Veylan smirked faintly. "Fair enough. But if your ghost friend wants answers… I'd suggest he start giving some, too."
…
Behind the two-way mirror, the station's observation room was packed. Officers, detectives, lab techs, even the station's janitor, no one wanted to miss this. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with one of Veylan's impossibly sharp swords.
Police Chief Howard Royce stood near the glass, arms folded tightly across his broad chest, his usual gruff composure fraying at the edges. His eyes, steely and cold, were locked on the scene in the interrogation room.
"What the hell is this guy?" he muttered under his breath.
"He's not lying, Chief," Alarez said quietly, standing a few steps behind him. Her tone lacked the usual confidence she carried, replaced by a nervous edge. "I mean… he can see Silverhand. No one else has ever seen him except V."
"Yeah, well, the glowing runes and indestructible swords weren't exactly screaming 'normal guy' either," another officer quipped nervously.
The Chief shot him a glare that shut him up immediately.
In the corner, one of the lab techs, Dr. Norren, was furiously tapping at a holo-tablet, cross-referencing databases and energy readings. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the fear he tried to hide behind a facade of intellectual focus. "The… the things he's saying about other dimensions and monsters… there's no logical explanation for any of it. But the energy signatures on his gear, they don't match anything terrestrial. The dagger and ring? They're emitting stable dark matter fields. That's not possible."
"You said the same thing when the sword resisted every scan," Alarez said, her voice sharp but still uneasy.
"It's all impossible!" Norren shot back, his voice rising slightly. "The silver sword's crystalline matrix doesn't exist on Earth. His medallion is somehow radiating biological energy, but it's metal. And now he's talking about cosmic collisions between dimensions? This guy's either telling the truth or he's some next-gen corpo experiment gone rogue."
"Not even Arasaka could pull this off," muttered one of the officers near the back.
Another tech piped up, wide-eyed. "You heard him say it, right? Monsters. Leshens. Higher vampires. He's been fighting that crap his whole life. And then there's the kidnapped as a boy and turned into a super-monster thing, what the hell is that about?"
The room fell silent as everyone's eyes turned back to the interrogation room.
In the observation room, the eerie calm of Veylan's voice carried through the hidden speakers.
"…And where I'm from… monsters like me walk the earth," Veylan was saying, his amber-green eyes gleaming with otherworldly light.
The officers watching behind the glass exchanged uneasy glances. Some shifted on their feet; others crossed their arms, trying to maintain a facade of confidence despite the growing pit in their stomachs.
"Did you catch the part about his Elder Blood?" someone murmured. "That he's some kind of genetic freak with time and space powers?"
"Yeah. And let's not forget he's apparently part vampire, part elf, and part… what, again? Chimera?"
Chief Royce exhaled sharply through his nose. "We're dealing with something way beyond our paygrade. This isn't just a rogue cyberpsycho or some unregistered merc. If half of what he's saying is true, then we've got a goddamn alien with magic swords and vampire DNA sitting in that chair."
"And he can see Johnny Silverhand," Alarez added quietly.
That made everyone pause again.
Through the speakers, Veylan's calm voice continued, answering V's incredulous question about how he could see Johnny.
"Probably because he's a ghost," Veylan said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Though if I had to guess, it takes someone with eyes like mine and magical senses like mine to see him."
Royce's jaw tightened as he watched Johnny Silverhand, visible only to V and, apparently, Veylan, apparently whisper something to V with visible shock. Based on how V was whispering now.
Royce turned back to Norren. "You got an explanation for that?"
The tech's face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "No. None. Ghosts aren't real, Chief."
Royce gave him a hard look. "Tell that to the guy in there. Hell, tell it to Silverhand."
Alarez leaned closer to the glass, her unease turning into outright fear. "This is more than just strange tech. He's not from here, Chief. He's not lying. And if what he's saying is true…"
Royce raised an eyebrow. "If what he's saying is true, then what?"
Alarez hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Then this world, our world, just became a hunting ground for whatever the hell followed him here."
The Chief's face darkened, and he turned back to the glass. "Let's hope to hell it's just him. Because if it's not… we're screwed."
In the interrogation room, Veylan leaned back slightly in his chair, watching V with measured calm. He could feel the tension mounting, even through the glass. His Witcher medallion vibrated faintly against his chest, picking up on the emotions rippling through the station.
"I'm not here to harm your world," Veylan said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "But the fact that I'm here at all means your world might already be in danger."
Behind the glass, Royce gritted his teeth, finally breaking the silence in the observation room.
"Get the damn mayor on the phone," he growled. "And someone bring me a stiff drink. We're in deep shit."
…
The station had quieted down after the initial chaos of Veylan's interrogation, but the air was heavy with tension. Chief Royce was pacing in his office, barking orders into his holo-comm to lock down the building. Officers whispered nervously in corners, their eyes darting toward the observation room as if it were haunted.
Then came the call.
It wasn't a request. It was a demand.
The Arasaka delegation arrived in less than an hour. The black convoy of armored vehicles parked in front of the station like a fleet of mechanical predators. Out stepped an entourage of sharply dressed operatives, their movements calculated, their faces cold. At the head of the group was Takemura Goro, a man V knew all too well.
"Shit," Johnny muttered, flickering into view beside V as they stood in the hallway. "Of course it's Arasaka. Why not just send the devil himself?"
"Johnny, not now," V hissed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We don't have a choice. If they're here, it's because they think they can win him over. If we shut the door in their faces, they'll just take him by force."
Johnny crossed his arms, his silver fingers tapping against his bicep as he glared at Takemura from a distance. "And you think rolling out the red carpet for these assholes is the better option? You've seen how they operate, V. They're vultures."
"Yeah, well, better vultures we can talk to than a full-on raid that gets half the station killed," V muttered. "Let me handle this."
Takemura stepped forward, his sharp, piercing gaze scanning the station. Behind him were a pair of silent Arasaka agents, fully kitted out in combat gear, their faces impassive behind dark visors. He spotted V and nodded curtly.
"V," Takemura said, his voice calm but laced with authority. "A pleasure, as always."
V grimaced. "Didn't think I'd see you here, Takemura. What, Arasaka got an interest in old swords and glowing rocks now?"
Takemura's expression didn't change. "The items in question are secondary. What concerns us is the man who wields them." His gaze drifted past V, toward the interrogation room where Veylan still sat.
"I assume you understand why we are here," Takemura continued. "Your station has encountered… a unique situation. One that Arasaka is well-equipped to resolve."
Johnny snorted. "Here we go. The sales pitch."
V glanced at Johnny briefly before looking back at Takemura. "Yeah, I get it. But I need to know what 'resolve' means in Arasaka terms. You're not here to offer him a cushy job in R , are you?"
Takemura's lips twitched in a faint, humorless smile. "We are here to offer him protection, V. Do you believe the NCPD can keep someone like him safe? You have already seen how quickly rumors spread. The corporations, our competitors, are undoubtedly circling like sharks as we speak. Militech. Kang Tao. They will not hesitate to use brute force to acquire what you cannot protect."
"And by 'protection,' you mean locking him in some lab, dissecting him until he's just a pile of notes and tissue samples?" V said, his voice hardening.
Takemura straightened, his tone growing sharper. "No. Arasaka is offering a partnership. A man of his abilities, his knowledge, would be a valuable asset. In return, he would be given resources, autonomy, and the opportunity to understand this world. It is mutually beneficial."
Johnny growled, "Mutual my ass. V, this is the same bullshit they pull every time. Promise the moon, and when he steps out of line, they bury him."
V raised a hand, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "Takemura, you know how I feel about your company. But even I know you're not here just to be helpful. Why don't we cut the bullshit and tell me what Arasaka really wants?"
Takemura's expression hardened. "What we want, V, is to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. You know as well as I do that there are only two outcomes here: cooperation or escalation. Arasaka is extending a hand. We suggest you take it."
V hesitated, glancing through the glass at Veylan, who sat motionless, his glowing eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance. The Witcher's posture was relaxed, but V could tell he was listening. Watching.
…
Inside the interrogation room, Takemura and Veylan sat across from one another. V stood near the door, arms crossed, while Johnny paced silently, muttering under his breath.
"I don't trust them," Johnny said, glaring at Takemura's back. "They'll twist every word, every promise. And your medieval friend here doesn't know the first thing about corpos."
"I know," V muttered back quietly. "But what's the alternative? They storm the place, take him and his gear, and leave us picking up the pieces? At least this way we can control the situation."
Johnny grumbled but didn't argue further.
Takemura studied Veylan for a long moment before speaking. "You are not of this world. That much is obvious. Your weapons, your abilities—they are unlike anything we have encountered. Arasaka is prepared to offer you sanctuary. A safe place to exist in this world, in exchange for your cooperation."
Veylan's glowing eyes narrowed slightly. "Cooperation? What does that mean, exactly?"
"It means mutual benefit," Takemura replied smoothly. "You would retain control of your abilities and your belongings. We would assist you in adapting to this world—provide you with resources, information, protection. In return, we would ask for your expertise."
"Expertise in what?" Veylan asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion.
"Your knowledge of other worlds," Takemura said simply. "The phenomena you have described, the Conjunction of the Spheres, is of great interest to us. If there are other dimensions, other realities, Arasaka would seek to understand them. To ensure they do not pose a threat to this world."
Veylan tilted his head slightly, his cat-like eyes narrowing. "And if I refuse?"
Takemura didn't flinch. "Then others will come for you. They will not be as… diplomatic as we are. Arasaka has no desire to see you harmed. But you must understand the position you are in."
For a long moment, Veylan said nothing. Then he glanced at V.
"This world of yours," Veylan said quietly, "is it always like this? Threats wrapped in promises?"
V smirked faintly, his arms still crossed. "Welcome to Night City."
Takemura leaned forward slightly. "We are offering you a chance to survive. To thrive. That is more than any other corporation, or anyone else in this city, would give you."
Veylan considered him carefully. Then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned back in his chair, his hand brushing against the Chimera medallion on his chest. The faint vibration it gave off told him everything he needed to know.
"You're afraid of me," he said quietly. "That's why you're here. You don't want an enemy."
Takemura's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't deny it.
Veylan's sharp gaze lingered on Takemura for a moment longer before he exhaled slowly, leaning back in the chair. The faint hum of his medallion vibrated against his chest, grounding him in a world that still felt foreign and hostile. His fingers brushed against the Chimera medallion, an unconscious motion that seemed to steady his thoughts.
"You want my cooperation," he said quietly, his tone even. "But before we talk about that, you need to understand why I'm cautious, why I don't trust people like you."
Takemura inclined his head slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his otherwise impassive face. "Then explain. I am listening."
Veylan's expression darkened, his glowing eyes narrowing as he delved into the memories that had shaped him. His posture tensed, though he forced himself to remain calm.
"Back in my world," he began, his voice steady but edged with something heavier, "we've just dealt with the five responsible for my creation. Sorcerers and alchemists, the worst kind—those who believe power is worth any cost, no matter who they destroy to achieve it."
V shifted uncomfortably near the door, while Johnny stopped pacing, his holographic form leaning against the wall as he listened intently.
"These five worked with a king, Radovid," Veylan continued, his voice softening with a grim edge. "A man obsessed with control, obsessed with monsters and power. Together, they stole boys, dozens of them. They mixed their blood with the DNA of monsters. They called it 'progress.'" He spat the word bitterly.
Takemura's eye narrowed slightly as he listened more intently now, but he said nothing.
"I was one of those boys from when the project first started," Veylan said, his voice quieter now. "Some of the later ones survived… some were better off than others. But many… many were left broken. Twisted. Mishapen things, unable to speak or stand upright. I remember one, his name was Tomas. They mixed him with ghoul DNA, and it… it left him unable to do anything but crawl on all fours like a beast. He couldn't even form words anymore. His mind… it was nearly gone as he was reduced to an animal with some human intelligence."
Veylan exhaled sharply, visibly forcing the memories down. "And that was the second attempt. The first was worse. I was just a child then, but I remember the screams. The smells. Watching boys lose their minds and their bodies, all because these bastards wanted to play gods."
V glanced at Johnny, whose expression, while uncharacteristically silent, betrayed a faint glimmer of understanding. Even he couldn't find something snarky to say.
"I'm telling you this because I don't trust people who see magic and monsters as tools to exploit," Veylan said, his tone harder now. "If I do this, if I agree to work with you, I need assurances. Rules. Without them, I walk out that door, and I don't care how many of your soldiers try to stop me."
Takemura's gaze sharpened. "What rules do you propose?"
At this, Veylan began to lay out the ground-rules if he's to work with them.
"No experimentation on humans or animals with my knowledge, magic, or any materials I provide. If I even hear a whisper of it, the deal is off."
"You will never subject children to anything like what I endured. Ever. The Trial of the Grasses, the process that creates Witchers, kills seven out of ten boys. Even more when one introduces monster genetic in the mix. Those who survive are sterile, their lives ruined. I won't allow that to happen here."
"Any artifacts or weapons I allow you to study will remain in my possession at all times. You don't keep anything."
"Every decision involving me or my work must be discussed openly. No hidden agendas, no backroom deals."
"You will not weaponize magic, monsters, or anything from my world. It's one thing to study it, but the moment you try to turn it into a weapon, you'll regret it and trust me, chaos is chaos for a reason, it cannot be controlled once it's out there."
"If anything from my world finds its way here, monsters, magic, anything, you'll protect your people without exploiting the situation for profit."
"Anything I teach you stays here. It doesn't get sold to your competitors or used as leverage in whatever wars your corporations fight."
"You treat me as an equal, not a tool. I decide how much I help and when."
"If you find a way to send me home, you let me go in peace. I don't belong here. I have someone waiting for me."
V and Johnny exchanged glances as Veylan finished, his glowing eyes locked onto Takemura, daring him to argue.
"And this someone waiting for you," Takemura said after a long pause. "Who is she?"
Veylan's expression softened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "Her name is Lady Erynn. She's… an elf. Or rather, a kitsune elf. And she's expecting our son."
Takemura's eyes widened slightly at that. "A kitsune…?"
Veylan nodded. "She has magic in her blood, a lineage far older than mine. She's the strongest person I've ever known. And I was ripped away from her against my will. If I can find a way back to her, I will take it, no matter what it costs."
Takemura remained silent for a moment, his sharp mind processing everything Veylan had said. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"Your conditions are… reasonable," he admitted. "I cannot promise full compliance without consulting my superiors, but I will ensure your demands are heard. If Arasaka is to gain your cooperation, then we will honor your terms."
Veylan's eyes narrowed slightly. "And if they don't?"
Takemura met his gaze without flinching. "Then I will advocate for them. You have my word. But understand, Veylan, this world is not kind to those who stand alone. Even you will find it difficult to navigate without allies."
Veylan smirked faintly. "I've been alone before. But I'll hold you to your word."
As Takemura stood, preparing to leave, V exhaled, his hand brushing against his forehead. "Well, that went better than expected," he muttered.
Johnny appeared beside him, his arms crossed and his expression grim. "Yeah, sure. Until they decide they don't need him anymore and try to gut him for parts."
"Not if we're smart about it," V replied quietly. "But yeah… this is gonna get messy."
Behind them, Veylan sat quietly, his fingers brushing the Chimera medallion as his mind drifted to thoughts of home, and the family waiting for him there.
…
Veylan's circumstances were unprecedented. A man from another world, unregistered, untraceable, and yet impossible to ignore. After the meeting with Takemura, the decision was made, if Veylan was to stay in Night City, he needed a home, something discreet yet functional, and something that Arasaka could monitor without being overtly intrusive.
After hours of deliberation, Arasaka's officials settled on housing in Watson, specifically in the northern part of Little China. The district was practical, a mix of residential areas and easy access to both corporate infrastructure and the bustling streets of Night City. The apartment they assigned him was modest but equipped with basic tech interfaces, secure communications, and most importantly, proximity to resources he might need to adapt.
By the evening, Night City was abuzz. The NCPD, working with Arasaka, had crafted an official press release to explain the man with glowing cat-like eyes, swords on his back, and no implants
…
Official Press Release Transcript…
"Today, the NCPD and Arasaka Corporation have identified and confirmed the presence of a unique individual in Night City. Known only as 'Veylan,' he is a displaced citizen from beyond our known boundaries, a phenomenon currently under investigation by corporate scientists and governmental agencies. Veylan possesses unique physical and magical abilities that differentiate him from residents of our world. For public safety, we have cooperated with corporate experts to integrate him into Night City society. While no danger is posed, we encourage citizens to respect his privacy and avoid direct confrontation."
…
The release was accompanied by carefully edited footage of Veylan, avoiding anything that revealed too much about his gear or abilities, while framing him as an enigmatic but harmless outsider. Public opinion was split: some called him a hoax, others were terrified, and a few were already crafting conspiracy theories about his origins.
As the press release went live, Veylan spent his first day acclimating to the chaos of Night City. His new apartment was small but functional, spartan by his world's standards, yet overwhelming with its technological interfaces. The holo-screens, voice-activated systems, and automated kitchen felt like something out of a mage's dream.
The day was spent immersing himself in the history and culture of this world. V sat nearby, helping him navigate a digital tablet, while Johnny paced and interjected with his usual commentary.
"Alright," V said, pulling up an article. "Let's start with the basics. Night City was founded in 1994 by Richard Night, yeah, that's where the name comes from. Corpo city from the start. Arasaka, Militech, all the big players laid their roots here. Then the Fourth Corporate War happened. Things went to hell, explosions, nukes, you name it. Rebuilding started in 2070. Now it's what you see: a shiny dystopia full of corpo greed, street gangs, and tech that turns people into walking death machines."
Veylan frowned. "Death machines? You mean those implants I've seen?"
"Cyberware," Johnny explained, stepping closer. "People trade their humanity for an edge, arms, legs, neural implants, optics. Some people go full chrome, completely modified. Problem is, if you go too far, you risk cyberpsychosis. Mind breaks down. You become a killer."
Veylan looked uneasy. "People willingly do this to themselves?"
Judy Alvarez's voice chimed in from across the room. "Yeah, welcome to Night City. Half the time, people don't have a choice. Either you mod up or you're left behind. Corpo jobs demand it, gangs thrive on it. It's not all bad, though." She smiled slightly, holding up her own cybernetic hand. "Some of us just like being able to do more."
Veylan shook his head, rubbing his temples. "In my world, magic can cost you your humanity. If you rely on it too much, it consumes you. This… this sounds no different."
Judy leaned on the table, her eyes curious. "Speaking of magic… you really fought monsters? Like, real monsters?"
"Yes," Veylan said simply. "Leshens, vampires, dragons, more creatures than you could imagine. It was my purpose, to hunt them and protect the innocent."
Judy blinked. "Damn. Sounds like a vid series. You've got proof of all this?"
Veylan reached for his silver sword, holding it carefully so its glowing runes caught the room's dim light. "This is proof. A weapon forged for killing creatures of magic. It wouldn't even scratch one of your cyberpsychos, but against a leshen? It's death."
While V and Judy focused on helping Veylan understand Night City's technology, a small group of NCPD officers and corpo historians were tasked with giving him a crash course in history. A middle-aged officer, Detective Alarez, led the briefing.
"Alright, big guy," she said, flipping through holo-files. "Let's start with the basics. Humanity left Earth's atmosphere in the early 2000s. Moon colonies, space stations, you name it. But down here? It's all corporations now. Governments don't run the world anymore, corpos do. Arasaka, Militech, Kang Tao, they own everything."
Another historian added, "Technology defines everything. Even art, even religion. We have neural interfaces, full body modifications, even constructs, digital people who live in cyberspace."
Veylan's eyes narrowed. "Digital people? Like ghosts?"
"Sort of," the historian replied. "People upload their minds to chips. Sometimes willingly, sometimes… not."
Johnny snorted. "Yeah, don't sugarcoat it. Arasaka loves turning people into digital slaves."
Veylan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Your world has lost its balance. No magic, but technology serves the same purpose. It's… strange."
As the evening wore on, Johnny began filling in the gaps that the NCPD left out.
"This world didn't just fall apart, choom," Johnny said, sitting on the edge of Veylan's table. "It's been broken for decades. Corpo greed killed any chance of real progress. People trade their souls for survival, sometimes literally. The corpos will chew you up and spit you out."
Veylan smirked faintly. "Sounds like the kings and mages of my world. Power corrupts everywhere, it seems."
"Yeah, but at least you could stab your kings," Johnny muttered. "Corpos are harder to kill."
By the end of the day, Veylan had barely scratched the surface of Night City's complexities. He was wary of the cybernetic enhancements, confused by the reliance on technology, and appalled by the corpo dominance. But he understood one thing: survival in this world meant adapting.
As the night settled over the city, he stood at the window of his apartment, staring out at the neon-lit streets below. His mind drifted to Lady Erynn and the child he'd never met. He clenched the Chimera medallion in his hand, a silent promise that he would find his way back to them.
For now, though, he would bide his time. Learn the rules of this new world. And when the time came, he would ensure that no one, corpo, gang, or otherwise, would exploit him or his knowledge or his family should it come down to it.
…
The room was silent save for the faint hum of Night City's neon glow filtering through the cracks in the window blinds. Veylan sat cross-legged on the floor, his steel and silver swords laid carefully beside him, their presence comforting but unnecessary for the task at hand. Before him hovered the dagger, a gift, or curse, depending on how one looked at it—from the being he now knew as Chernobog, the Master of Shadows and Contracts, a figure revered and feared by many as Gaunter O'Dimm.
The blade floated in midair, turning slowly, the faint runes etched into its silvery-black surface glowing with a sinister light. It was beautiful, in a way that only something inherently dangerous could be.
Veylan exhaled, rolling up his sleeve. His glowing eyes narrowed as he reached for the small ritual dagger on his belt and nicked the palm of his hand. Blood welled up, rich and dark, dripping onto the hovering dagger. The dagger seemed to come alive, its black stone heart pulsing like a heartbeat as it absorbed the blood.
The air in the room grew heavy, charged, as if reality itself was bending around the blade. The medallion on his chest vibrated faintly, a warning, though he ignored it. This wasn't his first time communing with the blade, and it likely wouldn't be the last.
The world around him faded. The cold, metallic scent of Night City was replaced by an ancient stillness, a dark expanse where light seemed to exist only in abstract glimmers, flickering at the edges of perception. The dagger, no longer a physical object, now appeared as a towering black monolith, its runes blazing like eldritch stars. Veylan stood before it, his hands at his sides, his posture calm but guarded.
The presence of the dagger was still there, a vast intelligence that didn't speak in words but in impressions, emotions, and raw intent. It wasn't malevolent, but it wasn't benevolent either. It simply was.
"Why do you come, Witcher?" The voice wasn't a voice, it resonated in his mind like the echo of thunder in a deep canyon. The dagger didn't ask out of curiosity; it already knew the answer.
Veylan smirked faintly. "You already know. I need more. Mastery. Power. If I'm stuck in this gods-forsaken world, I need to be ready for whatever it throws at me."
The monolith's light pulsed, each rune glowing brighter as the presence within considered his words. "You ask for much. Power is not given freely, even to one of your blood."
"I know," Veylan said, his tone steady. "But I've paid in blood, haven't I? More than once."
"And yet, you remain unbroken," the dagger replied, its tone carrying a faint edge of admiration. "Very well. What do you seek to master tonight?"
Veylan exhaled slowly, centering himself. He thought of the signs he already wielded—Aard, Igni, Quen, Yrden, Axii, and how they had become second nature to him. But there were others, lesser-known signs, far more dangerous and complex.
"I want to refine Heliotrop, the shield against magic and ranged attacks. And I want to learn Puppeteer, the advanced form of Axii."
The dagger's presence pulsed with dark amusement. "Ambitious. You tread paths that few Witchers dare to follow. But ambition suits you. You understand the cost?"
Veylan nodded. "Blood. And time. Specifically my blood. I know the game."
The monolith seemed to tilt, acknowledging his resolve. "Then let us begin."
The next hour passed in a blur of mental exertion and metaphysical strain. Veylan felt the dagger's essence entwine with his own, guiding his thoughts, his instincts. Heliotrop was refined first, a shimmering, rotating shield of light and force that responded to his will, more robust than the Quen he already knew.
Puppeteer was harder. The advanced Axii required more than just willpower; it demanded precision, control, and the ability to balance on the knife's edge of dominance and understanding. The dagger pushed him, pulling memories of battles long past, forcing him to confront his own fears and doubts.
At one point, the strain grew so intense that the medallion on his chest burned against his skin, a warning to stop. But Veylan pushed through, sweat dripping down his brow as he wrestled with the raw power the dagger offered.
When it was over, he opened his eyes, his chest heaving. The dagger still floated before him, its light dimmer now, as though satisfied with his progress.
"You grow stronger," the dagger intoned. "But strength alone will not save you. Remember that, Witcher."
Veylan nodded, wiping his brow. "I remember."
The dagger slowly descended, returning to its place on the table. The atmosphere in the room lightened, though the lingering sense of otherworldly power remained.
Exhausted but satisfied with his progress, Veylan cleaned the blood from his palm and sat down at the small table in the corner of the room. The tablet V had left for him glowed faintly, its interface still strange and unwieldy to him, but he was learning. Slowly.
He scrolled through the reading materials Judy had compiled for him earlier, histories of Night City, overviews of its factions, and explanations of cybernetic implants. The more he read, the more alien this world felt. The idea of modifying one's body with metal and wires seemed unnatural, dangerous even. Yet here, it was common. Necessary, even.
"Why would someone trade their humanity for this?" he muttered under his breath.
Johnny Silverhand appeared beside him, leaning casually against the wall. "You'd be surprised how fast humanity goes out the window when survival's on the line, choom. This city's got a way of chewing people up and spitting out chrome."
Veylan glanced at him. "And yet, you still hate it."
Johnny smirked faintly. "Doesn't mean I don't understand it."
Shaking his head, Veylan returned to his reading. The history of the Fourth Corporate War was especially troubling. The sheer scale of destruction, the disregard for human life, it reminded him of the wars he had seen back home, though here, the weapons were different. More advanced, but no less devastating.
Judy's voice echoed in his mind, from earlier in the day: "People here don't fight monsters, Veylan. They become them."
He frowned, his fingers brushing against the Chimera medallion. "At least the monsters back home didn't pretend to be human."
The night stretched on, but Veylan didn't stop. He read everything he could, committing it to memory. This world might lack magic, but it was no less dangerous. And if he was to survive long enough to find a way home, he needed to understand it.
For now, at least, the gods had been kind. His magic still worked here. His artifacts still hummed with power. The Elder Blood in his veins burned just as brightly as it always had.
But for how long?
That question lingered in his mind as the neon glow of Night City seemed to echo across the room.
…
The official Arasaka press release about Veylan had taken Night City by storm. The idea of a man with glowing eyes, medieval armor, and the ability to perform "magic" was so outrageous that many dismissed it outright. But then came the videos, the ones leaked from the NCPD during his arrival. They weren't supposed to be public, but in Night City, secrets never stayed buried for long.
The most talked-about footage was a shaky but clear clip of Veylan's first moments in the NCPD station. It showed a tense standoff between him and several officers, their guns drawn, while Veylan stood tall and calm, his glowing cat-like eyes reflecting the harsh lights of the room. His voice, low and guttural, echoed with an ancient authority.
He spoke in a language that no one could identify at the time. Experts later theorized it was a mixture of ancient Slavic dialects, woven together with words and inflections they couldn't place.
"Вы слушаете меня? Я не знаю, где я нахожусь, но я не враг."
("Are you listening to me? I don't know where I am, but I am not your enemy.")
"Пожалуйста, не заставляйте меня защищаться. У нас нет причин для конфликта."
("Please, don't force me to defend myself. We have no reason for conflict.")
The officers in the footage were visibly confused, barking commands in English for him to drop his weapons. Veylan glanced around, his expression frustrated but controlled, before raising his left hand.
In the video, he traces a glowing symbol in the air, the lines of light hanging suspended for a moment before dissolving. The room was momentarily bathed in an eerie golden hue, and as soon as the sign disappeared, his words became clear—perfect, unaccented English.
"I am not your enemy," he said firmly, his glowing eyes scanning the stunned officers. "I don't know where I am, but I mean no harm. Lower your weapons."
The moment was surreal, to say the least, and it had left everyone watching speechless. The footage cut off after that, but it was enough to fuel wild speculation.
Arasaka's handling of Veylan's arrival was seen as both brilliant and opportunistic. The fact that they had managed to negotiate terms with him and avoid a public incident showed their finesse, but it also sparked rumors that they were hiding something. Many speculated that they were already studying his gear and abilities, trying to replicate whatever it was that made him so unique, though they were just rumors with no actual facts.
Militech, predictably, was less impressed. They dismissed the "magic" as a parlor trick, likely some form of advanced holography or neural interface. But behind closed doors, they were reportedly pouring resources into analyzing the footage, trying to figure out what Arasaka had gotten its hands on. If there was even a sliver of truth to the rumors, they couldn't afford to fall behind.
Kang Tao was more skeptical than the others, publicly dismissing the claims as "Arasaka propaganda." Still, their agents were seen skulking around Watson, asking questions about the mysterious visitor.
Maelstrom, with their penchant for the bizarre and grotesque, loved the rumors. They were already circulating doctored footage of Veylan fighting imaginary monsters, claiming him as some kind of ancient cyberpsycho. If they could get their hands on him, or his weapons, they would, but for now, they seemed content to revel in the chaos his arrival had caused.
The Valentinos had mixed reactions. Some dismissed the rumors as nonsense, while others respected the fact that Veylan had managed to negotiate terms with Arasaka, something even they rarely managed.
Tyger Claws The Tyger Claws viewed him as a potential threat. His arrival in Watson, their territory, didn't sit well with them. They were watching him closely, waiting for an excuse to make a move.
The average citizen of Night City was split. Some thought Veylan was just another corpo experiment, a walking PR stunt meant to distract people from real issues. Others believed the rumors wholeheartedly, spinning theories about him being a god, an alien, or even a ghost.
The fixers of Night City were already buzzing with potential opportunities. Rogue, in particular, had taken an interest. She didn't trust Arasaka's spin, but she knew there was more to Veylan than they were letting on. If she could get him to take a job or two, she'd get her answers soon enough.
Later that night, as Veylan sat in his apartment, he couldn't help but notice the strange looks he received from passersby when he'd ventured outside earlier. It was clear the press release had spread like wildfire, and now he was a curiosity, an anomaly in a city already full of them.
The glowing symbol he had drawn to bridge the language barrier had been second nature—a reflex born from years of survival in hostile situations. But here, it had become something more. It wasn't just a tool to communicate; it was proof, at least to some, that he wasn't like them. That he didn't belong.
He looked down at the tablet V had left for him, scrolling through articles and forums discussing him. The comments were a mix of disbelief, awe, and outright mockery.
"Fake. Obviously a corpo stunt to distract us from the elections."
"If he can actually do magic, why doesn't he prove it? What's he hiding?"
"That symbol he drew though… kinda creepy. What if he's, like, a demon?"
Veylan sighed, leaning back in his chair. The world outside was strange, hostile, and full of doubt. But he had been doubted before, when he survived the Trials, when he hunted monsters others thought were myths, when he faced the rogue sorcerers who had created him.
Let them doubt.
He glanced at the Chimera medallion on his chest, feeling its faint vibration as it hummed with latent energy. His magic still worked. His weapons were still sharp. The gods hadn't abandoned him yet.
With that thought, he returned to his studies. There was much to learn about this world, and if he was to survive it, he needed every advantage he could get.
…
It was early morning, the first rays of sunlight fighting to pierce through the neon haze of Night City. Veylan stood by the window of his small apartment, staring down at the streets below as the city buzzed with life. His newfound peace was interrupted by a sharp ping from the tablet left by V. A notification glowed on the screen.
It was a message from Police Chief Royce, marked urgent.
…
Job Briefing: Cyberpsycho Incident
Subject: Lukas "Twitch" Marin
Location: Industrial Zone, Watson
Condition: Critical Cyberpsychosis
Details: Lukas Marin, alias "Twitch," is a former mid-level tech engineer turned underground merc. Known for his high level of cybernetic enhancement, Lukas specialized in modifying and maintaining top-grade cyberware for both corporate clients and mercenary groups. However, recent reports indicate he suffered a catastrophic systems meltdown during an attempted heist in the Watson Industrial Zone. His neural interface and cooling systems are compromised, leading to severe overheating and mental instability.
Subject Overview
Physical Modifications:
Full cybernetic arm replacements with integrated melee capabilities (blades).
Cyber-optics with enhanced targeting.
Overclocked reflex boosters in both legs for hyper-speed movement.
Neural augmentations designed to increase cognitive speed (currently malfunctioning).
Current Status: Lukas's overheating issues are causing his augmentations to operate beyond safe parameters. His limbs and optics are malfunctioning, randomly activating. His reflex boosters are stuck in high-gear, making him hyperactive and nearly impossible to track. Combined with his now-fractured neural augmentations, his mental state has deteriorated rapidly. Witnesses report him speaking nonsensically, accusing invisible enemies of conspiring against him.
Known Instabilities:
Lukas has a history of paranoia and post-traumatic stress, stemming from his time in the underground mercenary scene. These issues, exacerbated by his cybernetic enhancements, have likely pushed him over the edge.
Mission Objective
Goal: Stabilize Lukas Marin.
Priority is to neutralize the threat he poses without causing permanent harm or damage. Lethal force is only authorized as a last resort.
If possible, utilize Veylan's "unique abilities" to stabilize Lukas's mind and implants.
Veylan scrolled through the briefing, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. He glanced at the attached files, which included security footage of Lukas rampaging through the industrial complex. The man's movements were erratic, his cybernetic limbs flailing as if they had minds of their own. His voice could barely be heard over the background noise, but what came through made Veylan pause.
"They're in my head! Shut it down! I can hear them, stop it! Stop it!"
The footage ended with Lukas smashing through a concrete wall, disappearing into the complex's labyrinth of pipes and machinery.
Veylan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Cyberpsychosis was foreign to him, but the symptoms were eerily familiar. It reminded him of the times he'd encountered monsters—cursed beings driven mad by magic, unable to distinguish reality from nightmare. In those cases, Axii had been his most reliable tool, calming the beast long enough to deliver a clean strike or break the curse.
But this was different. Lukas wasn't a monster, he was a man suffering from a meltdown of body and mind. The challenge wasn't in defeating him but in stabilizing him. Veylan considered his options.
He strapped on his gear methodically.
His silver sword was unnecessary but comforting, old habits died hard.
His steel sword, enhanced with runestones, was strapped to his back. It probably wouldn't damage the chrome, but it could sever power lines or disable malfunctioning limbs if necessary.
He placed his dagger from Chernobog on his belt, though he doubted he'd need it.
As he finished, he paused to look at the Chimera medallion on his chest. It vibrated faintly, as if sensing the tension in the air.
"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Let's see if Axii works on machines."
The part that intrigued him most was his Marr powers. Eating nightmares, consuming trauma, it wasn't something he enjoyed, but it was effective. If Lukas's mind was overrun with paranoia and fear, Veylan could devour the worst of it, leaving the man's psyche intact. The real question was whether the cybernetic implants would resist or interfere.
The Watson Industrial Zone was a chaotic sprawl of pipes, warehouses, and machinery that hissed and clanked even in the early morning hours. NCPD drones hovered overhead, scanning the area for signs of Lukas.
Veylan approached Chief Royce and a small group of officers stationed near the perimeter. Royce looked tense, sweat beading on his forehead as he handed Veylan a portable comm.
"You're sure about this?" Royce asked. "This guy's like a ticking time bomb. If you can't calm him down, we'll have no choice but to send in the assault drones."
Veylan nodded, adjusting the strap on his steel sword. "I'll try my way first. If it doesn't work, you can use your drones."
Royce grimaced but didn't argue. "Alright. He's holed up somewhere in the southern quadrant. Watch yourself, his optics are fried, but his reflex boosters are still active. He moves fast."
Veylan stepped into the maze of machinery, the sound of his boots echoing against the metal walls. His medallion vibrated faintly, reacting to the chaos of the environment.
He found Lukas in a narrow corridor, crouched against a wall. Sparks flew from his cybernetic arms as they twitched uncontrollably. His optics glowed erratically, flickering between different modes. The air around him was stifling, the heat radiating off his body could be felt even from here.
Lukas's head snapped up as Veylan approached, his movements jerky and inhumanly fast. "Stay back!" he snarled, his voice raw. "You're with them! You're in my head, aren't you?"
Veylan stopped a safe distance away, holding his hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said calmly, his voice carrying the soothing cadence of Axii. "I'm here to help."
Lukas flinched, his optics flickering. "Help? You can't help me. They're… they're everywhere. They're burning me alive!"
Veylan's glowing eyes narrowed slightly. "I can quiet the voices. I can fix the burn. But I need you to trust me."
The man's paranoia flared, and he lunged forward, his cybernetic blades snapping out. Veylan moved instinctively, dodging the strike and countering with a flash of Axii. The sign glowed faintly in the air, and Lukas froze, his movements slowing as his mind wavered.
"Let me in," Veylan said quietly, his voice laced with the power of Axii. "I can take the pain away."
Lukas's body trembled, and for a moment, the paranoia faded from his face. Veylan stepped closer, his glowing eyes locking onto Lukas's flickering optics. He could feel the man's fear, his anguish, like a physical weight pressing against him.
Reaching out with his Marr powers, Veylan delved into Lukas's mind. The trauma hit him like a wave, paranoia, betrayal, the fear of losing control. He consumed it carefully after pulling out the nightmares like a physical worm and popped it into his mouth ending them, pulling the worst of it into himself, leaving Lukas's mind quieter, more stable.
When it was done, Lukas collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged but steady. His cybernetics still sparked, but they no longer lashed out uncontrollably.
Veylan knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's over," he said quietly. "You're safe."
Lukas looked up at him, his optics dim. "How… how did you…?"
"Don't worry about it," Veylan replied, standing. "Just rest."
Lukas sat there, his body trembling, but his mind was clear, for the first time in what felt like years. The usual noise in his head, the endless paranoia, the whispers of betrayal and unseen threats… gone. His cyber-optics flickered, but they no longer sent his vision spiraling into erratic loops. His limbs, previously malfunctioning and jerking uncontrollably, now felt still. Functional.
Lukas's hands twitched as he stared at them, flexing his chrome fingers. He felt… human again. No more burning, no more static in his skull. Just clarity.
Veylan observed him closely, making sure that the Axii's effects and the trauma consumption had fully settled. The Witcher's glowing amber-green eyes flickered slightly as he reached out, pressing two fingers against Lukas's temple.
"You still with me?" Veylan asked, his voice even.
Lukas blinked, glancing up at him. "I… yeah. I think so."
His voice was different—no longer frantic, no longer erratic. Just calm.
"Systems?" Veylan asked, helping him to his feet.
Lukas exhaled, rolling his shoulders as his cybernetics adjusted seamlessly. "Everything feels… fine. Better than fine." He paused, a flicker of realization dawning. "I don't feel the noise anymore. The paranoia. The ghosts in my head."
Veylan nodded. "I got rid of them."
Lukas's gaze flickered to him, his optics stabilizing as his neural implants adjusted to the newfound calm. "How?"
Veylan shrugged, giving him a small, knowing smirk. "Trade secret."
Lukas let out something between a breath and a laugh, shaking his head. "You really did something to me, didn't you?"
"Your mind and body were at war," Veylan explained as he supported Lukas's balance. "Your cyberware was overheating, your implants misfiring. The Axii helped to reset your neural pathways, stabilized the implants' functions. But the real problem wasn't just the cyberware, it was your nightmares, your past. That's what was feeding the psychosis."
Lukas paused for a second. "And now…?"
"They're gone," Veylan said simply. "You'll remember things, but they won't have the same hold over you. The weight, the fear, won't be there."
Lukas opened his mouth as if to respond, then stopped. He was searching for the paranoia, for the creeping anxiety that had ruled his life for so long. It wasn't there.
The realization nearly brought him to his knees again.
"Holy shit," he muttered. "It's really gone."
Veylan nodded. "Come on, let's get you checked out."
Lukas let Veylan steady him as they began the slow walk toward the waiting Trauma Team ambulance, the flashing red-and-blue lights casting eerie reflections across the industrial complex's metal structures.
Unlike before, when his systems had been fighting him, Lukas now moved with fluidity. His reflex boosters weren't misfiring anymore. His cybernetic limbs, which had previously been erratic and dangerous, were now responsive but controlled.
Each step was easier than the last.
A few NCPD officers stood nearby, watching cautiously, still expecting a rampage. But what they saw instead was something completely unprecedented, a cyberpsycho, calm, stable, walking of his own accord without needing to be restrained.
Royce, who had been watching the scene from a distance, muttered, "Well, I'll be damned…"
Veylan led Lukas to the waiting paramedics, helping him sit on the open edge of the ambulance bay. The Trauma Team crew hesitated at first, but when Lukas showed no signs of aggression, they quickly went to work scanning him.
One of the med-techs, a cybered-up woman with a full visor overlay, frowned at the readouts on her scanner. "This… doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't?" Royce asked, stepping closer.
The med-tech turned the scanner toward him. "His systems were melting down, Chief. His neural augmentations should have fried his brain with that level of malfunction. But now?" She shook her head in disbelief. "It's like his cyberware reset itself. Everything's functional, optimized, stable."
The officers and medics exchanged confused glances. That wasn't supposed to happen.
"Did you-." the tech turned toward Veylan, eyeing him suspiciously. "Did you use some kind of cyberdeck? Some deep-run code to force a reconfiguration?"
Veylan smirked. "Something like that."
Lukas chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, man. You don't get it." He turned toward the chief and the others, motioning toward Veylan. "It wasn't code. It wasn't some netrunner trick." His voice turned almost reverent.
"It was magic."
The statement hung in the air. Even in a city filled with insane technology, actual magic was a hard pill to swallow.
Royce exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ…" He turned toward Veylan. "I don't know what the hell you did, but you just saved us a body bag."
Lukas looked up at Veylan again, his cybernetic eyes reflecting the flashing lights of the ambulance. "I owe you, man."
Veylan shook his head. "Just take care of yourself."
The medics continued their diagnostics, but it was clear, Lukas was stable, his mind clear, and his body fully functional.
As Veylan stepped away, Johnny Silverhand flickered into view beside him, arms crossed, smirking. "Hate to admit it, but that was some serious shit, choom."
V sighed, standing nearby with a lopsided grin. "Not bad for a medieval swordsman."
Veylan rolled his shoulders, feeling his medallion vibrate slightly as the last echoes of his magic settled. "If all your 'cyberpsychos' are like that, I'll be busy in this city."
Royce let out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, you have no idea."
As the medics loaded Lukas into the ambulance for further observation, Veylan took one last look at the flashing lights of Night City. This world had no magic, no curses, no monsters, not the kind he was used to.
But there were still people losing themselves to power they didn't understand.
And someone had to stop that from happening.