Revolution, Cyber ​​Magical Girl!

The MiG-37 stared at the document on the projector and fell silent.

He read through all the company contracts that Lu Chaoge had explained, including parts that he had never understood before.

The chaotic lighting illuminated half of his metallic face, while the other half remained hidden in shadow, its expression unreadable.

"Lu, sit down." His voice was deep, interrupting their argument.

He continued speaking only after Lu Chaoge sat down again.

"Bruce, don't miss a single word of Lu's words. Record them in the core log." He paused, a red light flashing in his mechanical prosthetic eye as he swept over the young men who had already been fitted with the new prosthetic bodies and were showing off to their female companions.

Perhaps the atmosphere was a bit tense, so MiG-37 smiled and said to Brubru, "Lu isn't denying you. He's right. He really understands the company."

Brubru's lips moved, but he didn't say anything. He just snorted heavily, sat back on the sofa, and quickly started operating his portable terminal.

MiG-37 then turned to Lu Chaoge, leaned forward slightly, and slowly spoke.

"Lu, do you think I'm stupid?"

Lu Chaoge didn't reply, but simply flicked the ash from his cigarette.

"I know that prosthetic body was tested with their lives." MiG-37 pointed to his chest, where a muffled hydraulic sound, distinct from the heartbeat of flesh and blood, emanated.

"These things I'm wearing were originally 'test models,' not from the company. Are you suggesting I use those mass-produced items from the dungeon, or secondhand stuff from that anime store? Wake up, anime stuff won't do. Or are we supposed to go and fight other gangs with this rotten flesh? To steal those meager synthetic protein blocks barely enough to survive?"

"Why not anime?" Lu Chaoge was a little curious. The store had pretty good stuff, although it was definitely not as good as the company's.

"Lu, I'm the boss. Do you want me to lead the brothers into battle with weapons that make women pant?" MiG-37 said this ridiculously serious statement, then sighed.

"You're right. Testers in the upper city are expensive and the process is complicated. We're cheap, and we don't have to pay compensation if someone dies. We might even be able to recover some rare metals from the body when we take it away. This deal is too good to pass up for the company."

The music in the dance floor was deafening, but the air near the booths was so thick it was suffocating. Several of the gang members who had been laughing and joking seemed to sense that something was wrong and secretly glanced in their direction.

"But that's the rule of the dungeon, Lu."

The MiG-37's mechanical prosthetic eye stared at Lu Chaoge, its voice somewhat hoarse.

"Either risk your life for a chance to climb up the social ladder, or rot in the sewers and silently become a pile of decaying flesh in some corner."

"I know the company has ulterior motives, and the contract is definitely full of traps, but this is the only thing we can touch that looks like a 'ticket'."

Tickets...

Lu Chaoge didn't speak, but he could roughly understand some of MiG-37's thoughts.

Will he become famous or remain an unknown figure?

Brubru might not be wrong.

He was just a mercenary, a mercenary who only needed to feed himself and had no family to worry about.

Lu Chaoge didn't know much about gangs.

Life should be precious, shouldn't it?

But how many @ can you exchange for?

MiG-37's gaze shifted to the loan terms displayed on the BluBluBlu terminal; the complex interest rate calculations and repayment details appeared as a cold stream of data to him.

He didn't actually understand it, but through Lu Chaoge's explanation, he seemed to understand something.

"Distributed to each person... Ah, so that's what was waiting for."

"Boss, it's not that serious, is it?" Brubru finally couldn't help but interject, shaking his arm.

There, a brand-new prosthetic forearm with a faint blue glow was mounted.

"This thing is incredibly powerful! With it, we'll definitely be able to take over those venues near Ghost Fire Temple! Then the money will just come in!"

The MiG-37 glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Brubru remained awkwardly silent.

After a short pause, the MiG-37 asked, "Shoot it down, and then what?"

He wasn't asking Brubru, but rather asking himself.

"Can we hold onto it? Will they let us occupy it forever? Will other gangs be convinced? With all this fighting and killing, you lose an arm today, I lose a leg tomorrow. Is the little money we earn enough to cover medical expenses and pay off this ever-growing debt?"

No one can answer that.

The music from the dance hall became distant background noise, and all that remained around the booths was heavy breathing and the faint hum of the prosthetic joints moving unconsciously.

Lu Chaoge stubbed out his cigarette, his thoughts churning, and finally he made a decision.

"Sorry, I'm logging out."

Lu Chaoge's initial joining of the gang was purely by chance.

He had only met most of the gang members once and was not familiar with them. Now that Rod was dead, there was really no reason for him to stay.

The MiG-37 saved him once, and Lu Chaoge also took down the cyber psychopath for him, so they were even.

He disliked the company and was even less willing to work for it.

With a magical girl wanted for 3000 years now living at home, Lu Chaoge had no interest in participating in any gang activities, so she simply withdrew.

The MiG-37 remained silent for a moment, then its massive body leaned back into the sofa, disappearing into the shadows.

Only the prosthetic eyes remained, shining faintly in the darkness, like trapped beasts in an iron cage.

A private message notification popped up in the corner of Lu Chaoge's field of vision.

[MiG-37: There's something. Rod's missing daughter, that magical girl... Rod was a member of the Big O gang, so the company is targeting us and wants us to investigate. We need to report our progress weekly.]

Lu Chaoge tapped her fingers lightly on her leg in response.

[Lu: What are you trying to say?]

[MiG-37: I'd like to entrust this matter to you; go and investigate.]

Lu Chaoge looked up at the MiG-37 in the shadow of the sofa.

The other person was also looking at him, their gaze low and unwavering, conveying neither threat nor pleading, but only a tacit understanding of weariness.

[MiG-37: The company needs to report; what difference does it make whether they give a real report or a fake one?]

[MiG-37: Besides, you're more suitable than someone else to investigate, aren't you?]

Lu Chaoge remained silent for a long time after reading this conversation.

Why give it to me?

What did he discover? Did he know all this? Was he testing me?

Are they using this to tie me to the gang?

His prized knowledge was utterly useless at this moment. His memories allowed him to decipher complex and expensive contracts, but they couldn't see through the hearts of the people before him.

So he smiled and replied as if he didn't care.

[Lu: Aren't you afraid that if I find out something, you'll just pocket the money from that order of 3000?]

[MiG-37: I believe you'll share some with me, won't you?]

Lu Chaoge lit another cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke blurred the bizarre world before his eyes.

"Okay." He exhaled a smoke ring and said with a smile, "I'll give you the report; I'm a PowerPoint master!"

"Who still uses PowerPoint these days..." Miguel shook his head, raised his metal hand, and made a "go ahead" gesture.

Lu Chaoge stood up, walked through the intoxicated crowd, and headed towards the exit of the dance hall.

Behind me came the sound of a heated argument between Brubru and MiG-37, but as the door closed behind me, all the noise subsided.

The foul air from the underground city surged in, mixed with rust, engine oil, and some indescribable stench of decay.

Lu Chaoge looked up at the sky.

The underground city has no starry sky, only the cage-like shadows cast by the steel city. In the upper city, which is higher up, the indifferent neon lights that never go out still shine.

He rubbed his left prosthetic eye, where the light from the dance hall seemed to still linger, along with the faint glow of the densely packed, incredibly tempting, snake-like clauses on the contract.

The hypocritical packaging of capital, the prison of cognition, and the people struggling in the quagmire together have built this underground city that is always as bright as day.

He exhaled the last puff of smoke and flicked the cigarette butt into a puddle on the roadside, splashing up a tiny drop of water.