Cyberpunk: 2075

As Karl walked towards Patrick, the cyberpsycho, the latter came to a halt.

His instincts detected a threat.

A beast stripped of reason, left only with madness, would instinctively sense its greatest enemy. Compared to the surrounding "little rabbits," insignificant enough to be ignored, Patrick now perceived the approach of a tiger.

Tiger Claws…

The phrase flashed through his mind in an instant. Patrick didn't know why, but he could remember it clearly, as if it had been engraved into his brain, impossible to erase.

"Tiger Claws…"

He muttered in a low voice. Hearing the faint words, Karl stopped at a distance of twelve meters.

"Does he still have some rationality left?"

Just as Karl had that thought, those bloodshot, yellow cyber-eyes locked onto him.

"Guess not."

Staring into those glowing yellow optics, surrounded by ruptured, bloodstained flesh, Karl saw nothing but madness.

"Come on."

Karl smirked, issuing a battle invitation. As if taking it as a signal, Patrick's figure flickered and blurred.

Time seemed to slow as he activated Sandevistan once more.

Patrick was using the "Dynalar Sandevistan MK.1." It was a combat-oriented model designed for mercenaries and soldiers, meaning it not only enhanced reaction speed and bodily activation but also included built-in combat assistance software.

Even in his deranged state, this assistance allowed Patrick to detect vital points on his enemy and strike with lethal precision.

In a blink—no, faster than that—Patrick was already at Karl's side. His Mantis Blade thrust forward, aiming to pierce Karl's right arm, then drive through his lung before reaching his heart.

"I can… see it."

Within the time-stretched perception of Patrick's Sandevistan, he witnessed something terrifying—a slow, deliberate smile, a slight tilt of the head, and words spoken in what should have been an unbroken sentence.

He kept up with my speed?!

Even in his madness, Patrick felt a creeping chill of fear.

But he couldn't stop now. His Mantis Blade was already in motion, and there was no turning back.

Karl watched it all, his grin widening.

Gotcha.

From the moment he first saw the cyberpsycho activate Sandevistan, Karl had formed a hypothesis. By analyzing his opponent's movements, he had already deciphered Patrick's combat pattern.

A mind consumed by insanity would only act on muscle memory, relying on the techniques it was most familiar with.

That predictability, in a fight, was the biggest flaw of all.

The first key observation: this cyberpsycho, Patrick, had activated Sandevistan twice before. Both times, his attack trajectory had been to flank from the right side of his target. This indicated that, instinctively, his most familiar and natural strike came from the right.

The second key observation: each time he activated Sandevistan, he covered exactly fourteen steps. Twice now, his charge had ended after fourteen strides. A cyberpsycho lost in madness would not possess the clarity to regulate their cyberware usage—it was purely instinctual.

Given that the average adult male's stride length was 85 centimeters, fourteen steps meant a total distance of 11.9 meters.

Karl had placed himself precisely 12 meters away.

Patrick could not reach Karl's back. He would be forced to attack from the front or the right side.

Knowing where the attack would land made countering it as simple as reacting at the right moment.

Karl's monofilament wire lashed out, striking Patrick's non-Mantis Blade arm. The ultra-thin cutting edge sliced effortlessly through his subdermal armor, severing half of his forearm before making contact with the Mantis Blade itself.

Unlike flesh and armor, Mantis Blades couldn't be easily cut by monofilament wire. The moment the wire met resistance, it did what it did best.

Much like a string wrapping around a spinning top, the monofilament wire coiled tightly around the Mantis Blade. The initial whipping motion had already built up momentum, and with Patrick's Sandevistan at its limit, he could only watch helplessly as the wire wound around his entire arm.

Time snapped back to reality.

Instinctively, Patrick tried to yank his arm free, attempting to rip his Mantis Blade from the entanglement.

But in his maddened state, he had failed to realize—the wire had coiled around not only his blade, but his own flesh.

Had he left it alone, he might have salvaged the situation.

But he pulled.

The moment he did, the razor-thin monofilament wire sliced through his own muscle and sinew like butter.

With one simple pull, Patrick had severed the flesh of his own arm.

The wire tightened at his wrist, not because it couldn't cut further, but because the Mantis Blade anchoring the other end had reached maximum tension. The two cyberware components strained against each other, producing an ear-piercing metallic screech as they ground together.

The excruciating pain briefly snapped Patrick out of his psychotic haze.

Realizing his right arm was now beyond saving, Patrick switched tactics—raising his left Mantis Blade for an attack.

But Karl had already been waiting for this moment.

A gun barrel pressed against Patrick's forehead.

"Nice meeting you, yellow-eyed old man."

Karl tilted his head slightly, gazing down at Patrick, who had slumped slightly due to the pain and entanglement.

Those yellow cyber-eyes, once glowing with madness, were now dimmed, stained red with blood.

Karl smiled.

"And now… goodbye."

BANG.