The Witcher: Chimera Part 2, 2077
Chapter 2: Axii, Ghost of Jonny Silverhand and The Alghoul
…
The footage spread fast. Too fast.
What had started as a contained NCPD operation quickly escalated into one of the most talked-about events in Night City. By morning, every major news outlet had something to say about it. No one had ever stabilized a cyberpsycho like that.
Some fixers and corporate analysts suspected a hidden technology, something only Arasaka could engineer. Others dismissed it outright as heavily doctored footage, calling it a PR stunt.
But the news cycles had latched onto one unavoidable truth:
Veylan did something no one thought possible.
…
[54 NEWS REPORT]
"A shocking development in Watson yesterday as a known cyberpsycho, Lukas 'Twitch' Marin, was successfully stabilized without the use of trauma suppressants, cybernetics lockdown, or neural dampeners. The individual responsible? None other than the so-called 'medieval swordsman' Night City's been buzzing about all week."
"Security footage obtained from the scene shows the unarmed man, identified as Veylan, a displaced foreign national with no documented past, subduing Marin using unidentified means. What follows has been described by eyewitnesses and police as 'some kind of magic trick.' The footage clearly depicts Veylan reaching into thin air, pulling out what appears to be a writhing shadow-like entity, and consuming it, after which Marin immediately stopped exhibiting cyberpsychotic symptoms."
"Experts remain skeptical, citing potential cybernetic interference or an experimental deprogramming method."
"However, NCPD Chief Howard Royce issued the following statement:"
"I don't know what he did. All I know is, it worked. And it might be the only real answer we've got to the cyberpsychosis problem."
…
[NIGHT CITY INDEPENDENT]
'Cyberpsycho Cured?!'
"The talk of the streets today is all about the mysterious swordsman that Arasaka officially brought into Night City last week. Veylan-, a supposed 'magic user', -is now being discussed in corporate and tech circles after leaked NCPD footage appears to show him stabilizing cyberpsycho Lukas Marin by pulling something out of his mind. Theories range from high-grade Braindance therapy to an unknown form of neural hacking, but there's one problem: No cyberdeck, no neural interface, no tech."
"So, what the hell is he?"
…
[TRAUMA TEAM INTERNAL MEMO]
Subject: Incident Report - Watson Industrial Zone
From: Chief Medical Analyst, Trauma Team International
To: Corporate Oversight Division
Summary:
Following the stabilization of Lukas Marin, we have conducted extensive post-event scans. Marin's neural cyberware was on the verge of total collapse prior to intervention. By all known standards, he should have suffered fatal system shock.
Observations:
Neural pathways show signs of accelerated healing.
Implants recalibrated without manual adjustment.
Residual unknown energy signatures detected.
Trauma Team Science Division requests immediate access to any further information on Veylan and his methods.
Conclusion:
This is beyond known science.
…
Back in his apartment, Veylan sat quietly, scrolling through the reports on his tablet. The glow of the neon cityscape seeped through the blinds, bathing the room in an electric blue haze.
Johnny Silverhand leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Veylan flipped through article after article. His digital projection flickered slightly, amusement and unease playing across his features.
"Well, choom," Johnny said, smirking. "You just made yourself the most interesting guy in Night City."
V, sitting at the edge of the couch, rubbed his temples. "This is way bigger than a cyberpsycho takedown. People are already coming up with theories. Some are saying Arasaka's got you on some next-level experimental shit."
Veylan huffed, setting the tablet down. "Let them think what they want."
Johnny laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah? Good luck with that. You just broke every rule of how cyberpsychosis works. No one 'cures' a cyberpsycho, Veylan. They either get put down or they burn out."
Veylan's fingers tapped idly against his knee. "Not anymore."
V sighed. "Which means every corpo, fixer, and gang in the city is going to want a piece of you."
Veylan didn't react at first. His golden-green eyes flickered as he considered it. He already knew that Arasaka was watching. Militech wouldn't be far behind. Kang Tao, Biotechnica, Trauma Team, hell, even the street docs would be scrambling to figure out how he did it.
But none of them would ever understand.
Because science wouldn't explain this.
His magic, his blood, worked on a level that didn't follow their rules. It wasn't neural recalibration or cybernetic hacking. It was something older. Something deeper.
Trauma. Nightmares. Fear.
These things left scars on the soul. And Veylan, with his Marr heritage, was able to consume those scars, remove them like they were nothing but bad dreams lingering in the dark.
That's why Lukas stabilized.
It wasn't just Axii, it was removing the sickness at its core.
Johnny let out a low whistle. "So what now, huh? You gonna start selling 'magic therapy' to the highest bidder?"
Veylan shot him a glare. "I didn't do this for money."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, try telling that to the corpos. They're already foaming at the mouth to get their hands on you."
Veylan knew that. He could feel it.
And he knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to test him again.
But he didn't regret it.
He had saved one man's mind.
And in a city like this, that was a victory.
For now.
Veylan set the tablet down, his golden-green eyes flickering with certainty. The decision had already been made. He wasn't one to hesitate once his course was set.
He pushed himself up from the chair, adjusting the leather straps of his armor, his steel sword resting at his back, and his silver blade still secured. He had no need for weapons right now, but his instincts told him that Night City was unpredictable, better to be prepared than caught off guard.
V raised an eyebrow as he watched him move with renewed purpose. "Uh… where are you going?"
Veylan grabbed his coat, pulling it over his armor before glancing at him. "If I can cure cyberpsychosis, might as well keep at it."
V scoffed, leaning back against the counter. "You serious? You do realize you just made half the city lose their shit with that stunt, right? The news hasn't even cooled down yet."
Veylan smirked faintly, his expression unreadable. "Then let's give them something more to talk about."
Johnny Silverhand flickered into existence beside V, arms crossed. "He's got a point, choom. Might as well double down while everyone's still confused." He smirked, tilting his head at Veylan. "Besides, if you're gonna make waves, might as well start a goddamn tsunami."
V sighed, shaking his head, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Alright, medieval miracle worker. You're in luck, I actually do know a few places that house cyberpsychos."
Veylan nodded. "Then let's go through official channels."
V blinked. "Wait, what?"
"I don't have time for back-alley deals or underground meetings," Veylan said, rolling his shoulders. "I want this done the right way. No one trusts me yet, but if I go through official channels, they won't be able to deny what they see with their own eyes."
Johnny let out a sharp laugh. "Damn, you really do play smart, don't you?"
Veylan smirked faintly. "I've had practice."
Veylan pulled out the secure comm device that had been issued to him and activated the direct line to the NCPD's front desk. The holo-display flickered to life, revealing a bored-looking officer, a woman with cybernetic eyes and a cigarette lazily dangling from her lips.
She exhaled smoke, barely glancing at him. "Yeah? What's this about?"
Veylan's expression was calm . "I need clearance to visit any facilities currently housing cyberpsychos. I'll be stabilizing them."
The woman blinked. "...I'm sorry, what?"
"I'll be curing them," Veylan clarified.
She stared at him for a long second, then let out a wheezing laugh, shaking her head. "Oh man, you're the guy from the vids, huh? The 'magic swordsman' who eats people's nightmares?"
Veylan didn't blink. "Yes."
Her laughter died immediately as she realized he was completely serious.
V sighed and leaned into the screen. "Listen, choom, just patch us through to Chief Royce or someone high enough to make this call. We don't got time for sarcasm."
She hesitated, then muttered, "Yeah… fine. Hang tight."
The screen flickered, and a few seconds later, Chief Royce's face appeared. He looked exhausted, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stared at them.
"Please tell me you're not about to make my day worse," Royce groaned.
Veylan crossed his arms. "I want access to the facilities housing cyberpsychos."
Royce froze, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "I'm sorry, you what?"
"I stabilized Lukas Marin," Veylan said evenly. "I can do it again."
Royce leaned back, rubbing his temple. "And you wanna do this?"
"I have nothing better to do after reading up on the history of this world."
V covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. Even Johnny let out an amused chuckle.
Royce sighed heavily. "Jesus Christ…" He glanced at someone off-screen, then back at Veylan. "Alright, I'll make some calls. But listen, this isn't gonna be some casual stroll. You'll have heavy NCPD presence, and if anything goes wrong, they'll drop you."
Veylan's smirk returned. "Fair enough."
Royce sighed again, muttering something about needing a drink before signing off.
Veylan and V stepped out of the apartment building, approaching the Arasaka security team stationed outside. The guards snapped to attention as they saw him approach, their eyes flickering with barely contained curiosity.
The ranking officer, a stern-faced man with Arasaka-issued cyberware, folded his arms. "Mr. Veylan. What's your request?"
"I'll be visiting an NCPD facility housing cyberpsychos," Veylan stated simply. "Apparently, I'm going to be fixing their neural implants and removing their nightmares."
One of the guards choked on his own breath. Another muttered, "What the fuck…"
The ranking officer didn't react immediately. Instead, he studied Veylan carefully before nodding. "We'll arrange for transport."
"Good," Veylan said, adjusting his coat. "I'd rather not waste time."
V, standing beside him, smirked. "You really don't do things halfway, do you?"
Veylan glanced at him. "Would you?"
V snorted, shaking his head. "Not a chance."
Johnny appeared beside them, arms crossed. "Alright, Witcher. Let's see if you can pull this off again."
Veylan's eyes glowed faintly as he stepped toward the waiting Arasaka convoy.
"Let's find out."
…
The sterile white walls of the Cyberpsycho Detention and Rehabilitation Facility pulsed with the rhythmic hum of machinery, punctuated by the quiet murmur of scientists, NCPD officers, and corporate tech specialists who had gathered around the observation deck. They had been watching—for over seven hours now, as Veylan did something no technology, no cyberware, and no medication had ever accomplished.
Inside the high-security treatment chamber, under harsh fluorescent lighting, the latest cyberpsycho sat trembling, their cybernetic limbs twitching as the effects of their psychosis slowly began to fade away.
Veylan exhaled, stepping forward with the calm precision he had maintained throughout this long, grueling process.
His hand rose, glowing faintly with Axii's power, and the wild terror in the cyberpsycho's eyes dissolved, their erratic movements settling as their neural implants synced, recalibrated, and returned to normal function.
And then, as he had done time and time again today, he reached out with his Marr abilities.
The air next to the cyberpsycho's head distorted, darkening like ink dissolving in water. From the space between waking and nightmare, a writhing, shadowy worm slithered free, its formless body shrieking soundlessly, wriggling in protest as it was pulled into reality.
The scientists monitoring the process flinched. The tech experts frantically scanned the thing, trying to analyze its structure, but their monitors flickered and gave them nothing.
Nothing.
There was no mass. No energy signature. No data. It was like trying to scan air, except air didn't screech and struggle like something alive.
One of the scientists, a cyberneticist from Biotechnica, muttered, "What the hell are those things?"
Veylan answered without looking up. His fingers curled around the shrieking nightmare, holding it like one might a venomous serpent.
"They're trauma. Nightmares." His voice was even, but the weight behind his words was absolute. "They are not supposed to be outside of one's nightmare infested mind."
And then, without hesitation, he popped the wriggling thing into his mouth and bit down.
A wet, hollow crunch echoed through the chamber.
The cyberpsycho in front of him stiffened. Then, as if a fog had lifted from their mind, their shoulders relaxed. The manic terror, the incoherent muttering, the panic that had seized them for weeks, gone.
They blinked slowly, exhaling like someone who had just woken up from a years-long nightmare.
Veylan chewed thoughtfully, swallowing, his glowing cat-like eyes flicking toward the observation deck, where the stunned experts stood behind reinforced glass, their faces a mixture of shock, disbelief, and, most importantly, understanding.
One of the NCPD officers leaned forward, their mouth slightly open. "He just… ate that thing."
Another scientist, who had been frantically analyzing the process, threw their hands up in frustration. "There's nothing in those worm-things! No biological material! No measurable energy! They don't exist!"
Veylan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tell that to them," he said simply, nodding toward the now-stable cyberpsycho who was quietly sitting in their chair, lucid, aware, and normal for the first time since their breakdown.
The room fell silent.
No one, not the doctors, not the scientists, not the tech specialists, not even the corporate observers, could argue with the results.
Veylan had cured another one.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And so on, and so forth…
For seven hours straight.
V, watching from the doorway, let out a low whistle. "Alright, I'll admit it, this is some serious next-level shit."
Johnny Silverhand, flickering into view beside him, smirked, arms crossed. "So, what now, V? You gonna start taking commissions for 'trauma removal services'?"
Veylan, ignoring them both for the moment, turned to the facility's lead director, a stoic-looking woman in an expensive, corpo-cut suit who had been watching in stone-cold silence for the last several hours.
She had seen the impossible and she knew what this meant.
Veylan wiped his hands, his medallion still faintly humming with residual energy.
"I think we're done for today," he said, his tone even. "Unless you want me to clear out the rest."
The woman stared at him, taking in the now-lucid cyberpsychos, the inexplicable shadows he had consumed, the completely baffled experts who had no explanation for any of it.
Finally, she exhaled sharply.
"…No," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I think we have enough to process for one day."
She glanced at the head scientist, who was still scanning data frantically, muttering about how this shouldn't be possible.
Veylan shrugged, stretching his neck as if seven hours of consuming nightmares was nothing more than a normal day's work.
"Good," he said simply as he geared up and he turned to leave.
The scientists, officers, and corpo officials watched him go, their entire understanding of cyberpsychosis now permanently shattered.
Behind him, the cyberpsychos he had cured simply sat there, free from their nightmares, finally able to breathe again.
And that was proof enough.
…
After seven hours of consuming nightmares and stabilizing cyberpsychos, Veylan was finally done for the day. The NCPD, Trauma Team, and corporate scientists were still buzzing over what they had just witnessed, but he had no interest in sticking around for their debates.
He needed something else to focus on, something practical, something that would help him move through this world more efficiently.
And if he was going to be working in Night City, he needed to learn how to drive.
It started with V making a joke.
"You know, choom, if you're gonna be running all over Night City, you might wanna learn how to actually drive instead of hoofing it everywhere."
Johnny, appearing beside them as they left the facility, smirked. "Oh yeah, I'd pay to see that. Witcher on wheels. What could go wrong?"
Veylan, curious but skeptical, shrugged. "Fine. Where do I start?"
V grinned and sent a message through his commlink, pulling a favor with a driving school in Watson that had high-end simulator rigs used for training corpo recruits, mercs, and NCPD cadets.
…
The training facility was filled with several high-tech driving pods, actual seats with steering wheels, pedals, and haptic feedback designed to mimic real-world driving conditions. The pod Veylan was assigned to had a large curved screen in front of it, currently displaying a virtual recreation of Night City's streets.
An automated instructor AI crackled to life over the intercom.
"Welcome to the Night City Driving Certification Program. Please select your vehicle type: Standard Four-Wheel Automobile or Motorcycle."
Veylan sat in the simulator seat, gripping the steering wheel with mild curiosity. "I assume I start with this?"
V smirked, arms crossed. "Yeah. Standard car. Let's see how you handle it."
The AI responded: "Engaging beginner mode. Start the engine."
Veylan paused.
"…How?"
Johnny burst out laughing.
V sighed, leaning in. "Hit that button, choom."
Veylan pressed the ignition button, and the simulated engine rumbled to life.
Then came the pedals.
The AI instructor began, "Press the accelerator to-."
Veylan slammed his foot down.
The car lurched forward, throwing him back into the seat as the simulation screeched in protest.
V cursed. "Damn it, easy! It's not a damn horse!"
Veylan growled, fighting the wheel as the car jerked onto the virtual street, swerving dangerously before he finally managed to regain control.
The AI beeped in alarm: "Caution: Reckless driving detected."
Johnny howled in laughter. "Oh, this is great. You drive a car like you're wrestling a damn golem."
Veylan gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip. "It's… unresponsive."
V sighed. "Because you're fighting it. Relax. Smooth movements. Not everything is a sword fight."
Veylan exhaled, easing his grip. He adjusted. Slowly, he began to get the feel of it—when to turn the wheel gently, how to adjust the brakes instead of slamming them, and how to coast instead of constantly fighting for control.
After forty minutes, he passed the standard car test with minimal errors.
But then he tried a bike.
And that's when things changed.
The moment Veylan switched to a motorcycle, everything clicked.
The machine felt closer to him, more natural, like the way he moved in combat—leaning, shifting his weight, adjusting balance with his own instincts rather than relying on a clunky wheel.
V watched in amusement as Veylan effortlessly handled the bike's controls, weaving through the simulated streets with precision and ease.
Johnny, watching from the sidelines, raised an eyebrow. "Well, shit. Looks like some things don't change across worlds."
V whistled. "You're a natural on that thing."
Veylan smirked, tilting the virtual bike on a sharp turn. "This feels right. The car was too slow to react."
"Because it's not supposed to be a damn swordfight," V muttered.
Veylan aced the motorcycle exam in half the time it took him to get comfortable in a car.
…
After a few hours, he was given his final test, a mix of urban driving, traffic maneuvers, emergency stops, and real-time decision-making scenarios.
He passed.
With a near-perfect score.
When the simulator logged his completion, the system processed his official digital license.
"Congratulations, Veylan. You are now licensed to operate ground vehicles in Night City."
V handed him a physical holo-card, smirking. "Welcome to civilization, Witcher."
Veylan turned the license over in his hands, studying it. "Seems… small for something that determines who is allowed to ride these."
V chuckled. "Yeah, well, bureaucracy."
Johnny grinned. "Alright, now the real question: What's his first ride?"
After securing his license, Veylan was introduced to something completely foreign, fuel.
Back in his world, there was no such thing as gasoline or electrical charging stations. Horses were fed. Magic artifacts drew power from natural ley lines. But machines? Machines here needed fuel or batteries.
V walked him through a gas station, showing him how vehicles needed fuel to keep running.
Veylan watched as V pulled the fuel nozzle from the pump and inserted it into the vehicle. The meter on the screen began ticking up, tracking how much was being dispensed.
Veylan folded his arms. "And if it runs out?"
V smirked. "Then you're walking, choom."
Johnny, standing off to the side, chuckled. "Yeah, try explaining that one back home. 'Sorry, horse, you're outta juice.'"
Veylan absorbed the information quickly. It wasn't difficult, just… odd. The concept of fuel was so unnatural to him, yet so ingrained in this world.
By the time they left the gas station, Veylan could already refuel and recharge a vehicle without issue.
Later that evening, back at the apartment, V handed Veylan a list of available vehicles he could pick up through legal means.
Veylan scanned the options before settling on something instinctive.
A motorcycle.
Johnny grinned. "Good choice, choom. Nothing beats the feeling of the road under two wheels."
Veylan smirked as he studied the sleek black machine now registered under his name.
"Now," V said, stretching. "You ready to hit the road for real?"
Veylan straddled the bike, gripping the handlebars. His medallion hummed slightly, as if reacting to the new path ahead.
He smirked.
"Let's ride."
…
Veylan felt the engine hum beneath him, the vibration of the Hybrid Phantom beneath his grip as he eased into Night City's chaotic traffic. Shade, the AI companion embedded into his bike, flickered to life in the form of a small holographic display just above the handlebars. A smooth, synthetic voice greeted him.
"Initializing navigation interface. Welcome, Veylan. Would you like me to assist with your first drive?"
Veylan exhaled, watching the endless stream of neon signs flicker across the high-rises. The sheer number of vehicles, lights, and electronic billboards was overwhelming, even for someone accustomed to navigating through war zones and monster dens.
"This place is…" He hesitated, leaning slightly as he maneuvered past a slow-moving hover-car. "...cluttered."
"Night City traffic operates on a structured yet unpredictable system," Shade informed him. "Do you require adjustments to your awareness filter?"
Veylan smirked faintly. "I don't even know what that means."
"Noted. Adjusting commentary level."
V chuckled from his own bike beside him, coasting through traffic effortlessly. "You're catching on fast, Witcher. Just remember, red lights mean stop."
Veylan raised an eyebrow as the traffic light shifted to red ahead of them. He instinctively eased off the throttle, but a vehicle behind him blared its horn, zipping past him like a lunatic.
He turned his head toward V. "They don't seem to follow that rule."
V laughed. "Welcome to Night City, choom."
Veylan shook his head but adjusted quickly, learning to watch the lights, anticipate the movements, and adapt to the erratic nature of Night City's improvised road etiquette. Despite his initial discomfort, riding felt natural, like it was just another form of hunting movement, adjusting to the flow of a chase.
Shade provided calm, steady guidance.
"Your reflexive driving patterns indicate high adaptability. You are adjusting 43% faster than average first-time drivers."
Veylan smirked. "I'll take that as a good thing."
"Affirmative."
After a few more blocks, V signaled a turn, leading them into a quieter part of Watson, where Misty's Esoterica sat nestled between towering buildings and narrow alleyways.
The shop smelled faintly of incense and rare herbs as Veylan pushed open the door to Misty's shop. The cluttered but cozy space was illuminated by dim, warm lighting, shelves lined with trinkets, old books, tarot decks, and esoteric relics.
A soft chime rang as they entered, and from behind the counter, Misty perked up immediately.
"Ohhh, you're finally here!" she breathed, eyes shining with excitement as she set aside the book she was reading. "V told me all about you, but seeing you in person? Incredible."
Veylan blinked, mildly surprised by her enthusiasm. "You were expecting me?"
Misty chuckled, brushing back a loose strand of hair. "Let's just say… I had a feeling."
V groaned, shaking his head. "Misty's been dying to meet you ever since she saw the vids, choom. You basically confirmed everything she's always believed in."
Misty grinned. "You don't understand, V. This is proof, actual magic exists, and not just some netrunner tricks. A real connection to something beyond." She turned to Veylan, eyes shining. "I have so many questions."
Veylan glanced at the strange relics scattered across the room and shrugged. "Then ask."
V chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You two have fun, I gotta go in the back and finally pay the Doc what I owe him. 500 eddies in interest for all the times he patched me up. I'll be back."
As V disappeared into the backroom, Misty leaned on the counter, eyes studying Veylan closely. "So, tell me… ghosts? They exist in your world, don't they?"
Veylan nodded. "Yes. I've met many. Some vengeful, some lost, some that could be reasoned with. Many are tied to places, to objects, or to strong emotions. Some are plague maidens, wraiths, or specters twisted by sorrow or rage."
Misty's eyes widened in fascination. "And Johnny?"
Veylan's gaze flickered, settling on Johnny Silverhand, who was leaning against a nearby shelf, arms crossed, watching the conversation unfold.
"He's not just an AI," Veylan said simply. "I see him. Clearly."
Misty's breath hitched. "Wait… you see him? Like, right now?"
Veylan tilted his head slightly, his golden-green eyes flickering toward Johnny, who was leaning casually against a shelf, arms crossed, watching the conversation unfold.
"Clearly," Veylan confirmed.
Misty's eyes darted to where Veylan was looking, but all she saw was empty space. Her expression flickered between awe and frustration. "But I don't see him."
Veylan exhaled, glancing back at her. "Apparently, unless someone has a direct tie to magic, real magic, like in my world, no one here seems able to see or hear him."
Misty let out a frustrated groan, slumping against the counter. "That is so unfair."
Johnny snorted. "Yeah, well, welcome to my life, lady."
Misty perked up. "Wait, he just spoke, didn't he?"
Veylan nodded. "He said, 'Welcome to my life.'"
Misty let out an excited noise, smacking her hands on the counter. "So you can hear him too! That means he's really here, not just some fragment in V's head!"
Veylan folded his arms, nodding slightly. "That's right. He's not just an engram or some construct. He's a ghost, tethered to V, whether either of them like it or not."
Johnny let out a low whistle. "Damn. Knew I was special."
Veylan smirked faintly. "Not the word I'd use."
Misty, still in full excitement mode, fished around under the counter and pulled out a notebook, flipping through pages filled with scribbles, notes, and sketches of various symbols. "Okay, okay, so tell me, how does it work? Why can you see him when nobody else can?"
Veylan glanced at Johnny for a moment before answering. "My magic, my Elder Blood, gives me certain abilities. One of them is perceiving things most can't. Spirits, residual echoes, even fragments of souls that refuse to pass on. I've met ghosts before, some who lingered because of hatred, others out of regret. Some could be reasoned with, some… couldn't."
Misty's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And Johnny?"
Veylan studied Johnny for a long moment before answering. "He's… different."
Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
Veylan exhaled. "You're not just a lost soul. You're anchored to V, not like a normal spirit, but more like… something was forced. Artificial." He tapped the side of his temple. "Your soul wasn't meant to be tied to him, but something, or someone, made sure you were."
Misty gasped. "That's why no one else can see you! You're not just dead, you're trapped!"
Johnny shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his glitching silver hair. "Yeah, well, that's not news to me, sweetheart."
Veylan turned back to Misty. "It's possible that, given time, I could help stabilize him—turn him into a true spirit instead of whatever half-existence he's stuck in now."
Johnny froze, his flickering form going still. "Wait. You're saying you can fix me?"
Veylan met his gaze, unwavering. "Maybe."
Misty looked between them, eyes shining. "That would mean… Johnny could actually exist properly, instead of just being stuck in V's head."
Veylan nodded. "It wouldn't be easy, but if I learn more about how this world handles consciousness and digital engrams, I might be able to find a way."
Johnny scoffed, folding his arms. "Huh. I'll be damned." He paused. "Guess that means I better start liking you, huh?"
Veylan smirked. "Wouldn't hurt."
Misty practically vibrated with excitement, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook and scribbling down everything she had just learned.
"This changes everything!" she gushed. "I mean, people always suspected there was something beyond, but now there's proof! Spirits, real magic, the ability to actually interact with the dead! And you-" she pointed at Veylan, her eyes alight with excitement, "-you eat nightmares! You cure people by literally removing trauma from their minds! That's like… the stuff of myths!"
Veylan shrugged. "Where I come from, that's just a Tuesday."
Johnny laughed. "Yeah, alright, I take it back, I think I do like this guy."
Veylan tilted his head slightly, a contemplative look crossing his face. He had never tried it in this way before, but it made sense, Axii was meant to influence the mind, to open it to suggestion, to calm, to alter perception in subtle ways. What if, instead of just influencing someone's thoughts, he could use it to expand their senses, to attune them to the traces of magic, the things that lingered beyond normal sight?
He looked at Misty, considering.
"…Perhaps I could change that," he mused.
Misty blinked, tilting her head. "Change what?"
"If I use Axii on you," Veylan said, his golden-green eyes flickering slightly, "it may open up your mind's eye, make you more attuned to magical traces. You may be able to see Johnny over there."
Misty's breath caught.
Then, in the span of a heartbeat, her entire expression shifted to barely-contained excitement.
"Are you serious?!" she gasped, leaning forward so fast she nearly knocked over a small ceramic figurine from the counter. "I, I mean, yes! Absolutely yes! You have no idea how long I've wanted something like this! You think it'll work?"
Veylan smirked faintly. "There's only one way to find out."
Johnny, standing to the side, watched with interest, his flickering silver form leaning against an old shelf. "Huh. So you're gonna flip a switch in her brain, huh? Alright, now this I gotta see."
Veylan turned back to Misty, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "I'll need you to relax. Axii is… delicate. If done improperly, it can confuse the mind rather than clarify it."
Misty nodded rapidly, taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay, relaxed. Super relaxed." She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, her hands gripping the counter in anticipation.
Veylan stepped closer, raising his left hand, fingers curling slightly as he focused his will. The air around them shifted, growing thicker, charged with an invisible force. His medallion vibrated faintly against his chest.
A faint, shimmering golden glow traced his fingers as he slowly moved his hand in a careful circular pattern, drawing the Axii sign in the air, not to manipulate, not to calm, but to unlock.
Misty's breath hitched as a wave of something unseen rippled through her mind, like a current running through still water. Her fingers twitched, her head tilting slightly as if she were hearing something just at the edge of her perception.
And then—
Her eyes snapped open wide.
She gasped, staring directly at Johnny.
For the first time.
"Holy shit…"
Johnny's flickering form stiffened slightly, his silver eyes widening as he noticed her gaze. "No fuckin' way."
Misty covered her mouth, her eyes darting all over him, disbelief and wonder washing over her face like a tidal wave.
"Johnny," she whispered. "I, I can see you!"
Johnny let out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his glitched-out hair. "Well, I'll be damned. Guess it actually worked."
Misty's eyes were shining, taking in every flicker of his digital afterimage. "You're really here," she murmured, awestruck. "Not just some memory, not some engram. A real spirit."
Veylan stepped back, watching with mild amusement as Misty all but vibrated with excitement.
"Axii altered your perception," he explained. "It's temporary, but if used enough, your mind may adjust to seeing him naturally over time."
Misty turned back to Veylan, grinning ear to ear. "This is amazing!"
Johnny smirked, shaking his head. "Well, looks like I got a new audience now. Welcome to my world, Misty."
Misty laughed, the sound bubbling up from sheer joy. "This is so much better than I ever imagined."
Veylan crossed his arms, pleased with the result. "Then I take it my magic is real enough for you now?"
Misty looked at him, utterly breathless, and nodded. "Oh, without a doubt."
…
Veylan leaned against the counter, watching Misty with mild amusement as she continued her animated conversation with Johnny Silverhand. She had quickly adjusted to being able to see and hear him, and now she was fully engaged, scribbling notes furiously in her well-worn journal.
"…So, if you were trapped in Mikoshi, does that mean your consciousness was separated from your soul?" Misty asked, twirling her pen as she jotted something down.
Johnny shrugged, flickering slightly as his digital projection shifted. "Hell if I know. I wasn't exactly informed about what the corpo bastards did to me. One minute, I'm going out in a blaze of glory, the next? I wake up in V's head."
Misty nodded, flipping a page. "But you feel like a ghost. Not just an AI, but something more."
Johnny smirked. "Lady, I've always been more."
Misty giggled, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah, but this is groundbreaking! You're proof that consciousness doesn't just get deleted, it lingers somewhere! Whether it's the relic keeping you here or if something's holding on to you, I need more time to figure it out."
Veylan smirked. "Welcome to my world."
Just then, the back door swung open, and V walked in, stretching his arms after finally paying his debts.
"Whew! Alright, chooms, that's 500 extra eddies not to mention the rest off my back. Feels good."
Misty glanced up. "Victor finally get you to settle your tab?"
V smirked. "Yeah, well, he earned it. Guy patched me up more times than I can count." He looked at Veylan, nodding. "Hope you don't mind me stepping out. Looked like you two were hitting it off."
Misty grinned. "Oh, we absolutely were." She turned back to Johnny. "You, my friend, are fascinating."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot."
V raised an eyebrow at Misty's enthusiasm, about to make a sarcastic remark—until he noticed something off.
She wasn't just talking about Johnny.
She was talking to him.
V's eyes flicked between the two, and sure enough, Johnny's expression had shifted, less casual, more engaged. Like he was actually being spoken to for the first time in forever by someone other than V.
Veylan, leaning against the counter, smirked knowingly as he watched the realization dawn on V's face.
"Wait," V muttered, blinking. He gestured vaguely between Misty and Johnny. "You… you can actually see him?"
Misty grinned. "Oh yeah, clear as day."
Johnny crossed his arms, his silver flickering form shifting slightly. "Took ya long enough to notice, V."
V stared for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it. Given everything else that had happened in the past week, the medieval swordsman who could eat nightmares, the corpo deal that wasn't a death sentence (yet), and now the idea that Silverhand was an actual ghost—he decided…
Screw it.
He rolled his shoulders and sighed. "Yeah, alright. Sure. Why not."
Misty laughed. "That's it? No shock, no questions?"
V scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Misty, I've been shot at, nearly flatlined, and apparently, magic is a real thing now. So yeah, Johnny's a ghost? Fine." He turned to Johnny. "Guess that makes you officially my problem."
Johnny smirked. "Wasn't I already?"
V groaned. "Just… let's get moving before I start questioning reality more than I already have."
Veylan chuckled, pushing off the counter. "You get used to it."
…
The streets of Watson buzzed with their usual mix of chaos and neon, but the moment they stepped out onto the sidewalk, one voice cut through it all:
"THEY HAVE LIED TO YOU! THE SYSTEM KEEPS YOU BLIND TO THE TRUTH! THERE ARE OTHERS OUT THERE, BEINGS FROM BEYOND THE VEIL!"
V sighed, rubbing his temple. "Oh hell, it's Garry."
Sure enough, Garry the Prophet stood at his usual corner, his wild eyes scanning the crowd as he ranted. His followers, a mix of street rats, old-world believers, and conspiracy theorists, hung on his every word.
But the moment Garry locked eyes with Veylan, his breath caught.
"…By the Omnissiah's will," he whispered, his body going rigid.
Veylan frowned slightly, shifting his weight. "Do I know you?"
Garry took a trembling step forward, his entire demeanor shifting to pure awe. "No, my son. But I know you."
The crowd turned, eyes flicking toward Veylan—his swords, his unnatural eyes, his presence. The same presence that had made corpos uneasy, that had sent ripples through the underworld.
And for Garry, this was divine confirmation.
"You are the missing piece," Garry continued, his voice trembling with conviction. "The one who walks between realms! The proof that there are other worlds! That the Conjunction of the Spheres was no mere fable!"
V pinched the bridge of his nose. "Garry, please-."
But Garry was too far gone in his revelation.
"You, you come from a world of monsters, do you not?" he asked, voice reverent. "Elves! Dwarves! Creatures of magic! You have traveled through the cracks of reality itself!"
Veylan's golden-green eyes flickered with interest. "You know of the Conjunction?"
Garry's entire body trembled. "I have seen the signs! The anomalies! The shifts in the veil! The way the world bends and warps when forces beyond our comprehension press against it!" He stepped closer, voice lowering. "And you, you are living proof of it."
The murmurs among his followers rose in intensity. Some gasped, others whispered hurriedly to one another. A few simply stared at Veylan in awe.
V sighed. "Well, you just made his decade."
Garry clutched his hands together, practically shaking. "Please… you must come to our gathering. Speak to my people. Share what you know. Let the world hear the truth."
Veylan studied him carefully, then reached out and accepted the flyer Garry offered.
"I have things to handle tomorrow," he said, tucking it away. "But after that, I'll stop by."
Garry let out a shuddering breath, eyes shining. "This… this is a glorious day!"
His followers cheered, but Veylan merely nodded. Something about this man… interested him. He wasn't just a delusional street prophet, he had knowledge, theories that lined up with things Veylan had already experienced.
V sighed, looking at Veylan. "You really do collect weird people, don't you?"
Veylan smirked. "Says the man with a ghost in his head."
Johnny laughed, flickering beside them. "He's got you there, V."
V just groaned. "Let's go."
…
V climbed into his car, the engine roaring to life, while Veylan swung onto his bike, the sleek Hybrid Phantom humming beneath him.
"Notifications updated," Shade informed him. "Reminder set for tomorrow's schedule, including meeting with Garry the Prophet after errands are completed."
Veylan adjusted his gloves, feeling the lingering energy of the day settling in his bones.
Tomorrow would be long.
Very long.
With a final nod, he revved the engine, following V into the neon haze of Night City, the streets stretching ahead, filled with possibilities, dangers… and answers waiting to be uncovered.
…
The neon lights of the city filtered through the blinds of Veylan's modest apartment, casting soft streaks across the walls. Veylan sat upright in his chair, his body motionless, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only indication of life. His silver-black dagger hovered in midair before him, slowly rotating, its glowing runes pulsing faintly with an otherworldly rhythm.
The apartment was silent save for the faint hum of the city's distant noises outside, punctuated by the occasional ping of Shade, the AI companion integrated into his bike, sending routine schedule reminders. Somewhere nearby, a subtle red light blinked, a small, discreet security camera keeping a watchful eye on him.
Veylan didn't mind. In fact, he found the quiet vigilance oddly comforting, a reminder that in this world, boundaries of trust had to be negotiated carefully.
His meditative state, however, was anything but ordinary.
Within the dark expanse of his dreamscape, Veylan found himself seated at a massive, ancient stone table, its surface etched with shifting runes and symbols that seemed to pulse in time with his thoughts. Opposite him sat a Hym, its grotesque, twisted form shrouded in shadow, only its glowing red eyes piercing the darkness. The Hym's long, clawed fingers hovered over the intricately carved pieces of an ancient board game, their shapes indecipherable but clearly meaningful to the entity.
The Hym's voice rasped through the void, its language guttural and fractured, like the sound of stones grinding against each other. Yet, to Veylan, its meaning was growing clearer with every game they played.
"You grow stronger in our tongue," the Hym intoned, its tone dripping with both curiosity and grudging respect.
Veylan leaned forward slightly, his golden-green eyes glinting with the faint shimmer of his Elder Blood's influence. He moved one of the carved pieces with deliberate precision, his movements calm but assertive. "You grow clearer to me," he replied in shadow-speech, a language incomprehensible to most mortals but one that now came more naturally to him.
The Hym's head tilted, its shadowy form undulating slightly. "Few mortals dare converse with one such as I… even fewer survive the attempt. Yet here you are. What do you seek, Child of Blood?"
Veylan's gaze didn't waver as he studied the board. "Knowledge. Understanding. Perhaps even an edge." He placed another piece. "And you?"
The Hym let out a low, grinding chuckle, the sound reverberating through the void. "You amuse me, Witcher. Perhaps that is enough… for now."
The dagger hovered beside him in the dreamscape, faintly glowing. Its presence was like a silent monolith, its energy connecting him to the shadows and the Hym. Through it, he felt a strange resonance, as though the dagger itself enjoyed these strange games of the mind.
Veylan leaned back, his tone calm but edged with curiosity. "What else can you show me?"
As the game in his dreamscape continued, Veylan's consciousness gradually returned to the waking world. His cat-like eyes fluttered open, the glow of his pupils adjusting to the dim light of the apartment.
The dagger, still hovering, lowered itself gently onto the table before him, its runes dimming slightly as if to indicate its satisfaction with their session.
"Morning notifications ready," Shade's voice chimed softly from the corner of the room. "You have a meeting scheduled with the NCPD and Garry the Prophet later today. Estimated travel time to each location has been calculated."
Veylan stood, stretching his arms briefly before picking up the dagger and sliding it into its sheath. He didn't need to eat or drink immediately, his meditative rest rejuvenated him in ways food couldn't.
As he strapped on his gear, his thoughts lingered on the Hym and the strange knowledge he was acquiring through these shadowy conversations. This world may have lacked monsters, but its shadows held secrets he was determined to uncover.
With Shade's reminders now active, he grabbed his gear and prepared to head out into the neon-drenched chaos of Night City, ready to face whatever the day threw at him.
The fluorescent lights in the NCPD conference room flickered faintly as Veylan stepped inside, his medallion glinting against his chest. The meeting had been called to address several points, but as he sat down at the head of the table, flanked by several officers and tech specialists, it became clear they weren't ready to talk business just yet.
Captain Ramos, an older man with a sharp gaze and a perpetual grimace, cleared his throat, glancing at the others in the room before leaning forward.
"So… let's just get this out of the way," he began. "We've been monitoring you—standard procedure for someone with your… abilities. And, uh, there are a few things we'd like to understand."
Veylan raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
Ramos gestured vaguely toward him. "For starters, how the hell do you sleep sitting up? You don't move. You don't snore. It's like you're just… on standby. And then there's that dagger of yours." He nodded toward the blade sheathed at Veylan's side. "We've seen the footage. It hovers in midair, glowing like it's got a mind of its own. And when you offer it your blood? It absorbs it. Care to explain?"
The room fell silent, all eyes on Veylan.
He rested his elbows on the table, fingers interlocked, and leaned forward slightly. His golden-green eyes scanned the faces before him, his expression calm but measured.
"It's simple, really," he said, his voice steady. "The way I sleep is more like… meditating. It's a state that keeps me alert while allowing my body and mind to recover. In my line of work, that's often the difference between life and death."
Ramos nodded slowly, though the others still seemed uneasy.
"And the dagger?" another officer, a young woman with cybernetic enhancements around her eyes, asked. "we know it's made of dark matter, but… where did you get it?"
Veylan's hand drifted to the hilt of the blade, his fingers brushing against it almost reverently. "No," he said simply. "It's not tech. It's… an investment."
"An investment?" Ramos echoed raising an eyebrow.
Veylan nodded. "By a god. Chernobog, to be precise."
The room erupted into murmurs, the officers exchanging skeptical glances. Even in a world as chaotic and technologically advanced as Night City, the mention of gods raised eyebrows.
"Chernobog?" the young officer asked hesitantly. "Like the god of darkness from the old Slavic myths?"
"Precisely," Veylan said, his voice unwavering. "In my world, gods are not just myths. They exist. They watch. They influence. I only learned of them shortly before I was stranded here. This dagger—" he gestured toward it, the faint glow of its runes catching the light, "—was forged by Chernobog. It's both a tool and a test."
"A test?" Ramos leaned forward, clearly intrigued despite himself.
"To see what I would do with the power it grants," Veylan explained. "It serves me, but it has a will of its own. It demands a price, my blood, but in return, it allows me to do things no ordinary man can. Like stabilize the minds of your cyberpsychos. Or protect myself from forces that would otherwise destroy me."
The murmurs grew louder, some officers clearly skeptical, others just unsettled.
"And you're okay with that?" Ramos asked finally. "Letting a… god's artifact dictate your actions?"
Veylan smirked faintly. "Let me put it this way: When a god of shadows and chaos invests in you, you learn not to waste the opportunity. Besides-," his eyes flicked toward the dagger briefly, ", -it's not just about power. It's about understanding. Mastery. And survival."
The room fell silent again, the officers absorbing his words.
Finally, Ramos sighed, running a hand down his face. "Alright, fine. Gods exist, magical daggers hover, and you're basically a walking myth. This job just keeps getting weirder."
"Welcome to my life," Veylan said dryly, leaning back in his chair.
…
The contrast between the NCPD's sterile conference room and Garry's corner was stark. The makeshift setup had grown considerably since the day before, with Garry's followers having cobbled together a series of tents and makeshift altars, adorned with symbols and scribbled theories about other worlds and dimensions.
When Veylan arrived, mounted on his sleek black and silver bike, the crowd erupted into murmurs. To them, he wasn't just a man, he was living proof of their beliefs.
Garry rushed forward, his expression one of ecstatic reverence. "You came! Bless you, Wanderer! Bless you for bringing the truth to us!"
Veylan dismounted his bike, his swords glinting faintly in the sunlight, and nodded. "You asked for answers. I'm here to listen and share what I can."
Garry's followers pressed closer, their faces a mix of awe and curiosity.
"Tell us of your world!" one called out. "Is it true you fought dragons?"
"Is magic real?" another asked breathlessly.
"What about the monsters? Are they like the ones we see in VR games?"
Veylan raised a hand, his calm demeanor immediately silencing the crowd. He glanced at Garry, who gestured toward a central platform, little more than a few crates stacked together.
Taking his place atop it, Veylan surveyed the crowd, then began to speak.
"My world is nothing like yours," he said. "Magic flows through it like blood through veins. Monsters, real monsters, roam its lands, from dragons and griffins to creatures born of nightmare and shadow. Dwarves, elves, and men live side by side, though not always in peace. And yes, magic is real. It's woven into everything, shaping both creation and destruction."
The crowd listened in rapt silence, their skepticism forgotten.
"But the truth," Veylan continued, his voice steady, "is that the world I come from is no paradise. Magic can corrupt as easily as it can heal. Men can be just as monstrous as beasts. And gods-" he paused, letting the weight of his words settle, "-are not always benevolent."
The murmurs began again, but this time they were filled with awe.
Garry stepped forward, his eyes shining. "And yet, you survive. You walk among us, proof that the veil between worlds is thinner than we imagined."
Veylan glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "For now."
The crowd's murmurs of awe began to grow louder as Garry stepped back, giving Veylan room on the makeshift platform. The followers pressed closer, their expressions a mix of disbelief, reverence, and curiosity.
Veylan, standing tall amidst the patchwork of tents and symbols, gazed at the people gathered before him. He wasn't one to flaunt his abilities lightly, but this was different. These were people who were desperate for truth, who had clung to the idea of other worlds for years. He could give them proof, and perhaps, in doing so, strengthen their resolve.
"I'll show you," Veylan said, his voice calm but resolute. "But understand, these powers come at a cost. They are not gifts. They are a part of me, for better or worse."
The crowd fell silent, their collective breaths held in anticipation.
Veylan raised his hands, his glowing green Elder Blood pulsing faintly in his veins. Slowly, his body seemed to fracture, light spilling from him in jagged, glowing lines. The crowd gasped as his form split into seven distinct projections, each shimmering with an otherworldly green hue.
The projections weren't just illusory ghosts, they moved independently, stepping off the platform to interact with the crowd. One nodded silently at Garry, another reached down to touch the symbols painted on the ground, while a third placed a hand on the shoulder of a stunned follower, who nearly fainted from the shock of it.
"These are not illusions," Veylan said, his voice carried by each projection in perfect harmony. "They are a part of me. They can act, think, and even fight if needed. But they draw from my strength. They are my extensions, not tricks."
One of the projections turned back to him, bowing slightly before merging into his body in a faint green glow. The others followed suit, until only Veylan remained.
Next, he walked toward a dying apple tree on the edge of the gathering, its leaves brown and curling, its bark cracked. The crowd followed, their murmurs growing louder as they watched him place a hand on the brittle bark.
"I have powers tied to the natural world," Veylan explained. "The blood of a leshen flows through my veins. Watch."
As he closed his eyes, his skin began to shift. Dark, bark-like patterns spread across his arms, his hands turning a deep, earthen green. The roots of the tree began to pulse, twisting and curling as they absorbed energy. The once-brittle branches stretched upward, and green leaves began to sprout. Blossoms appeared, delicate and pink, soon followed by small, bright apples.
The crowd gasped as the tree stood rejuvenated, vibrant as though it had never been sick. Veylan leaned forward, his voice soft as he spoke in the language of the leshen, his words a low, rhythmic hum. The tree responded with a faint rustling of its leaves, as if it understood.
When he stepped back, the bark-like texture faded from his skin, leaving him human once more.
Still silent, Veylan turned back to the crowd, his glowing eyes scanning their faces. "There's more," he said simply, rolling his shoulders as if preparing himself.
He closed his eyes, and his form began to shimmer, a ripple spreading over him like water. Before their eyes, his body reshaped itself, muscles shifting, skin rippling like liquid. When he opened his eyes again, Garry himself stood before the crowd, identical down to the smallest detail.
The crowd gasped, several pointing at Garry and his double in stunned disbelief.
"Holy shit!" one follower exclaimed. "It's… it's you, Garry!"
The real Garry staggered back, his jaw slack. "That's… that's not possible."
The replica Garry gave a faint smirk, his voice coming out in Garry's exact tone and pitch. "And yet, here I am."
The shimmering form rippled again, and Veylan shifted into another man, this time one of Garry's followers, then into a third, a street vendor who had passed by earlier. Each transformation was seamless, down to the tiniest details.
Finally, the form shimmered once more, and Veylan returned to his own shape, standing tall and steady before the crowd.
The crowd erupted into excited murmurs, some cheering, others crying out in disbelief. Garry, wide-eyed and trembling, stepped forward again.
"You are… beyond what I could have imagined," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You are proof of the convergence of worlds, proof of the truth."
Veylan tilted his head slightly. "I am proof of the unknown," he said calmly. "That doesn't mean I have all the answers."
Garry nodded, his hands clutching the symbols on his chest. "But you've given us hope. You've shown us that there is more, more to this world, to existence. Thank you, Wanderer."
The crowd cheered again, some bowing their heads in reverence, others pressing closer to try to ask him more questions.
Veylan raised a hand. "Enough for now," he said, "I'll return when I can. But remember, what I've shown you is not without cost. Respect the power, and do not seek it blindly."
The followers nodded, their awe evident.
As Veylan mounted his bike, Shade's voice chimed in. "Notifications cleared. Next destination: apartment. Estimated travel time: 15 minutes."
Revving the engine, he looked back at Garry and his followers one last time. They watched him with wide eyes, their faces full of hope and curiosity.
The day had been long and tomorrow promised to be even longer. But for now, Veylan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. If nothing else, he had given these people a glimpse of the wider world, something that they desperately needed.
With a final nod, he rode off into the neon-lit streets of Night City, the echoes of the cheering crowd fading into the distance.
…
Veylan parked his Hybrid Phantom in the dimly lit garage beneath his apartment building. The hum of the engine faded into silence as he dismounted, his swords shifting slightly on his back. Shade's voice chimed softly in his ear.
"Notifications: Three new job opportunities have been flagged as high-priority. Details available on your datapad."
He stepped into the elevator, the faint hum of its motors lulling him into a brief moment of thought. The day had been long, but productive. Still, something told him the real challenges were only just beginning.
When he entered his apartment, the lights flickered on automatically, casting a warm glow over the modest but comfortable space. The familiar hum of the dagger resting on its stand greeted him. It pulsed faintly, as though acknowledging his presence.
Veylan sat down at his desk, activating his datapad. Three messages blinked on the screen, each tagged with "urgent" and flagged as high-paying opportunities.
The first message was from Judy Alvarez. Her face appeared on the screen, her expression a mix of concern and hope.
"Hey, Veylan. I hope you're doing okay. Look, I know you've been helping people with that… Axii thing you do. And I don't know if this is even possible, but I'm hoping you can help a friend of mine. Her name's Evelyne Parker."
Judy sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.
"She's been through a lot. Some corpos messed with her head—ripped information out of her brain using some black-market tech. It left her… unstable. She's been spiraling, and nothing we've tried has worked. But if you can do whatever it is you did for that cyberpsycho, maybe… maybe you can bring her some peace."
Judy leaned closer to the screen, her voice soft. "I'll pay you, of course. Whatever it takes. Just… let me know."
The message ended, and Veylan leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. Evelyne Parker. He'd heard her name before, but this was the first time he'd been asked to deal with someone suffering from such specific trauma.
Still, the process would likely be similar to what he'd done before. Stabilize her mind with Axii, then use his Marr powers to consume the nightmares and trauma. But black-market tech? That complicated things. He'd need to approach this one carefully.
The second message came from Panam Palmer, one of the Aldecaldos, a nomad group in the Badlands. Her tone was serious but calm, her face illuminated by the golden hues of the desert sunset behind her.
"Hey, Veylan. Panam here. I got your contact info from a mutual acquaintance, V."
She adjusted her scarf, "We've been seeing some weird shit out here. Tracks—big ones. Something's been moving through the area, leaving behind mangled livestock and… strange noises. We sent one of our guys out to investigate, but he came back rattled. Said he saw something that didn't make any sense."
Panam glanced offscreen, then back. "Saul wants answers, and honestly, so do I. Whatever this thing is, it's not normal. I'm attaching a picture he took of the creature. It's grainy, but it's all we've got."
Veylan opened the attached image. The photo was poorly lit and out of focus, but the shape of the creature was unmistakable, jagged spines, pale skin, and glowing eyes that shone like embers in the darkness.
His blood ran cold.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "It's an Alghoul."
The alghoul was a variant of the necrophage, a monstrous, predatory creature that feasted on corpses. Its ferocity and pack instincts made it a nightmare to deal with, and the idea of one loose in this world was… troubling, to say the least.
He leaned forward, replaying Panam's message. "I'll need to gear up for this one," he muttered.
The third message came from Saul Bright, the Aldecaldos' leader. Unlike Panam, Saul's tone was formal and measured, his face lined with concern.
"Veylan, I understand Panam's already reached out to you about the situation in the Badlands. I'm contacting you to make it clear that the Aldecaldos are prepared to compensate you generously if you can deal with this… problem."
He paused, his expression grim. "The thing is, I don't think this is just about one creature. Whatever this thing is, it's got the rest of the camp spooked. People are talking about curses, about monsters. And while I don't put stock in fairy tales, I can't deny the damage it's caused. We've lost livestock, and people are afraid to go out after dark."
Saul leaned closer to the camera. "If you're willing to help, we'll make sure it's worth your while. But more importantly… we need to know what we're dealing with. And why it's here."
Veylan sat back, absorbing the details of each job. Each one was unique, requiring a different set of skills. But they all shared one thing in common; they required his unique abilities.
He glanced at the dagger on his desk, its runes glowing faintly as if in anticipation. The blade seemed to hum, resonating with his own thoughts.
"Looks like I'm busy," he muttered, pulling up his calendar on the datapad. Shade's voice chimed in.
"Shall I prioritize the tasks, Veylan?"
He nodded. "Set Evelyne Parker first. Then the Badlands. If it's an alghoul, we can't afford to wait."
"Understood. Notifications updated. Estimated time for preparation: one hour."
Veylan stood, grabbing his gear. A long day loomed ahead, and if the past was any indication, it wouldn't go quietly.