NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: Chapter 2: System?!
Having a system… Forget about David starting with an advantage—even if David's mother started the game, she wouldn't have to be afraid!
Wait… why does this name sound a little off? The term Fourth Calamity wasn't difficult to understand.
It referred to players who disregarded the natural flow of a game, indulging in bizarre, inexplicable actions, breaking immersion, exploiting mechanics, or outright cheating with console commands.
Sometimes, it meant an entire faction of players from some demonic faction or like heavenly demon things—ruthless, chaotic, and unstoppable.
Stellaris was the best example of this concept. But how exactly was this supposed to manifest in a system?
…Could it be a copy?
[Ding!]
[This system is an authentic, high-quality, non-toxic, and completely original Fourth Calamity System.]
As the mechanical voice echoed in his mind, his hands instinctively tightened their grip.
Crack!
The sharp, sickening sound of bone snapping rang through the dilapidated corridor.
A Scavenger—who had just been rummaging through a bloodstained refrigerator, likely searching for something—suddenly went limp, his head twisted at an unnatural angle.
His neck had been forcibly rotated a full 270 degrees. The grotesque expression frozen on his lifeless face painted a vivid picture of his final moments.
But what caught his attention wasn't the fresh corpse—it was what lay inside the refrigerator. Piles of crimson organs, stacked like neatly arranged merchandise. The overwhelming stench of blood assaulted his senses, nearly making him retch.
Before he could even react, the system had already taken control, gently pushing aside the tattered plastic curtain and silently guiding him deeper into the Scavengers' den.
According to the system, this was a newbie tutorial mission—designed to teach him how to survive in Night City.
It had been laid out clearly, and he understood it well.
But… could the methods be a little more reasonable?
Since when was it normal for someone of his small stature to crush a man's skull with a single kick?
Wasn't this getting a little ridiculous?
Not long ago, just after pushing open the door leading from the hospital to the kitchen, he had encountered two unlucky Scavengers.
One had been taken down instantly—his spine snapped single-handedly.
The other?
A swift backward kick had sent the poor bastard flying headfirst into a nearby metal door.
Boom!
Like a watermelon dropped from a rooftop, his head exploded on impact, painting the dented door in shades of red, white, and silver.
The scene had been so visceral that he had nearly emptied his stomach right then and there.
No doubt, these two Scavengers had never imagined that they'd be brutalized this badly—let alone by an ordinary human.
He sighed, shaking his head in resignation.
These ruthless, almost supernatural combat skills… there was no way he'd be able to replicate them on his own.
Oh, right—minor detail.
The only part of his body he could still control was his head.
Everything else?
The system had taken full command.
[Please refrain from unnecessary thoughts and focus on enjoying the current experience.]
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
No choice but to sit back and enjoy the ride.
….
Close-quarters combat techniques?
Those had been uploaded to his brain from the start—like a military-grade training chip.
But this was something even more advanced.
Every movement, every action—completely automated. The system was doing all the fighting on his behalf.
Pushing past layer upon layer of grimy plastic curtains, he stepped into a room that looked more like a dog's nest than a proper living space.
Just next door, another room came into view—an observation chamber.
A blood-soaked bed sat in the center, and a camera was positioned right in front of it.
Judging by the setup, someone had just been filming a black braindance here.
The stench of iron and decay clung to the air, assaulting his senses.
His stomach twisted, and without thinking, he turned his head away.
"Shit… is that Gloria?!"
David's breath hitched, his voice cracking in shock.
His eyes widened, and for a moment, his head buzzed—his thoughts scattering into static.
On the operating table lay a corpse.
Or more accurately, what was left of one.
It was the first time he had ever seen a dead body—let alone one so horrifically mutilated.
Under the dim flickering lights, he could barely make out the gaping red craters where cybernetic eyes should have been.
The entire abdomen had been hollowed out, flesh mangled beyond recognition.
Every implant, every organ—ripped out.
The blood pooling beneath the body was still wet, still fresh.
Whoever they were, they hadn't been dead for long.
[No.]
The system's reply was curt, almost indifferent.
If this were just a game, he wouldn't have cared.
After all, he'd seen worse.
But seeing it in real life—staring at the grotesque remains of a human being—his stomach churned, bile rising to his throat.
And for some reason… something inside him snapped.
A rage that wasn't entirely his own boiled up from within.
A raw, uncontrollable urge to tear these bastards apart.
His fingers twitched, tightening into fists.
But before he could dwell on it, the system took control once more, guiding him forward.
Silently, he pushed open a door leading to God knows where.
Beyond it, a corridor stretched into darkness—narrow, decrepit, and barely lit.
The only source of light came from a single flickering emergency exit sign.
He clicked his tongue.
"These kidney-harvesting assholes really love hiding in these lightless shitholes, huh?"
His words were casual, but his brow furrowed deeply.
The place…
It reminded him of Evelyn Parker's nightmare.
The black braindance factory she had been dragged into.
And this place?
It was almost identical.
The more he explored, the more certain he became.
Lining the walls of the corridor were rows of locked doors. But even through the heavy steel, muffled screams could be heard from inside.
Victims. On the other side, a concealed passage connected straight to the hospital wards.Which meant— Every patient admitted into Redwood Psychiatric Hospital was being funneled directly here.
His jaw clenched. "…Fucking bastards."
[This is just part of Night City's. No need to overreact.]
"…Yeah, yeah, I know."
But knowing didn't mean he could get used to it.
Not yet, anyway.
….
More chapters tomorrow and maybe a mass release too of 4 chapters… like previous week… send lots of power stones… comments… and add this to your library .