Players Invade Cyberpunk

Ideals are always beautiful, but reality is always stark and cruel.

The world doesn’t care about anyone’s opinions; it only throws the coldest, harsh side of reality in your face, whether you accept it or not, that’s reality.

The high hopes Henry and the others had for war were completely shattered on the first day in Cuba.

When death was just a ruler-length away from him, even after revealing his identity, the enemy still did not show mercy and wanted to kill him outright.

When buried in the ruins, a half-body moaning chunk of flesh clung to his ankle, those eyes full of the will to survive stared at him.

When a soldier was shot and exploded into pieces in front of him, and the body fragments splattered all over him.

Henry felt like his nerves were about to collapse; the brain dance would deliberately guide the user’s attention and harmonize the content, such cruel scenes never appeared in past brain dances.

The instinct to survive made him desperately want to escape this damned city and return to safety in Europe.

There are no heroes here, no legends, and certainly no miracles, only two groups of lunatics both wanting to kill the other.

They must have been crazy to come to this place.

But there is bad news everywhere, fighting is rampant, and there is no safe place here. Outside the city, there are roving special snipers, more dangerous than inside the city, all the bodyguards are dead, they can’t run away for a while and can only stay in the city obediently.

Later, they realized that death was not actually a bad thing because the living had to suffer unimaginable torture.

What followed was shell shock, also known as war PTSD.

The constant cannon fire stimulated the nerves tense from the battlefield, with every shell explosion making your body tense up.

Day and night, every moment.

You don’t know when another shell might fall, you’re too afraid to sleep, too afraid to close your eyes.

Until your nerves are completely numb and collapse.

These greenhouse-raised flowers had never been subjected to such tragic torture, and were terrified to the point of near mental breakdown the same day, sent to the field hospital and screamed in their sleep at night.

On the second day, Henry, with bloodshot eyes, got down from the hospital bed, holding a portion of breakfast.

Looking at the steaming, high-sugar oatmeal in the bowl, his mind was only filled with everything he encountered yesterday.

Walking slowly like zombies with a few companions out of the ward, they sat on the stairs in the corridor, radiant sunlight shining on his face, but it had no warmth.

"Dylan... I’m sorry, if it wasn’t for this lousy idea of mine, we wouldn’t have come here..."

The young man with black hair just shook his head dully.

"It wasn’t just your idea, buddy, once communication is restored, we can contact someone to get us out, it’s okay."

Among them, a red-haired youth was still quite optimistic.

"Be like a man, don’t whine, once we film everything that happened on this trip, we’ll definitely get famous, we’ve been to the battlefield, unlike that group of wusses."

The few of them could only exchange bitter smiles, comfort themselves, now they could only say it was self-inflicted.

Having some mental comfort, they then began to eat.

Henry ate two or three mouthfuls when he suddenly saw a familiar person across the stairs holding a meal tray.

"It’s you!"

Attracted by his voice, that person turned around and saw the journalists who almost caused the battle situation to spiral out of control.

David had a slight look of displeasure on his face but didn’t say much, just nodded and was about to leave.

"Wait!"

Henry remembered that when they were rescued, this young soldier, even younger than them, used a grenade to desperately destroy an auxiliary Power Armor’s external radar, laying the foundation for their subsequent victory.

The price was to not give the enemy reaction time, and he blew himself up with the grenade.

His brave performance made Henry and the others look at him with new eyes, compared to him, they seemed incompetent.

He took out his portable filming drone.

"Can you cooperate with us to shoot a documentary? We can pay you money."

"..."

David, helpless, pointed to the bench outside the field hospital.

"Don’t bother with the money, ask whatever you want."

They moved the benches to sit around David, Henry took the lead in asking.

"What did you feel at the time? Weren’t you afraid of dying?"

"..., who wouldn’t be afraid of dying."

David thought about it and felt a bit scared.

"But at the time, I didn’t think much. If they weren’t quickly taken down, it would cause greater casualties for my comrades. I got impulsive and rushed up."

"Then... after you’re healed, do you plan to go back?" Dylan asked curiously, somewhat admiring David.

Anyway, they said they wouldn’t go back to North City District, it was too terrifying there.

"Of course."

David stirred the porridge in his bowl, murmuring.

"I’m here to combat these drug traffickers, liberate the suffering people here, I won’t leave until the war is over."

"Why? What do they have to do with you that makes it worth risking your life to help?"

Yesterday, Dylan argued with a soldier named Des, saying those addicts chose their own life.

He looked down on those who degenerate themselves but respected David and those soldiers.

David looked at Dylan with burning eyes, making him feel uncomfortable, even a bit ashamed.

David slowly spoke.

"I... and my mother used to live in a skyscraper, there was a long road between there and where I attended Huang Ban Academy..."

Huang Ban Academy?!

Their eyes showed confusion, though they couldn’t go to Huang Ban to work, they knew Huang Ban was comparable to their family, anyone who studied at Huang Ban Academy shouldn’t have ended up as common soldiers, right?