Will it be like other tasks, leading to different endings due to past choices?

As if to confirm John's words, a sudden stabbing pain occurs in John's skull.

Uncontrollably, he convulses in the surgery chair.

[Data overload detected, cleared, emergency plan 0, abnormal parameters being detected...]

"Fuck!"

John breaks free of the mechanical arms and clutches his head.

The Black Gold Gang's bodyguards are startled by his reaction.

Bone Shards frowns slightly and leans back on the sofa seat.

The armed hulks around them all clench their weapons, standing guard in front of Bone Shards, preparing to fire — mercenaries contracting cyberpsychosis is common, and someone like John, a rising star, is a high-risk group; who knows what symptoms he might exhibit in madness, on-the-spot elimination is the best solution!

John couldn't care less about those gaping gun barrels.

The pain isolates him from perceiving his surroundings.

His face contorts in agony, cold sweat seeping through his skin, dripping onto the carpet.

The world before him starts to overlap.

Though the pain is unbearable, deep down, his consciousness remains clear.

John even guesses what he might see — based on previous experiences of illness, he would "foresee" stories that have never happened, endings guided by another choice.

"Hiss, hoo..."

John's view is filled with shattered mosaics, and in the sensory tug-of-war, unimaginable data torrents sweep through him.

The scenery in front of him changes accordingly.

John, from a first-person perspective, sees himself roaming various corners of the city.

From the war remnants on Shanglang Road in the northern district to the neon arenas on Sakura Cross Street, and even the bonfire boxing match surrounded by painted barrels in the wilderness.

As well as a brawl on a cruise ship two nautical miles away from Eden City's dock, battling with robust sailors in the rocking waves.

Illegal boxing matches permeate the city.

In a never occurred story line, he fights across street matches, holds a genuine ranking in formal leagues, and has enough eligibility to stand on the central ring.

He passes through the player tunnel, both sides of the stands packed with past opponents and newly made friends.

The view begins to descend.

The world slowly collapses amid static noise, and then is reconstructed by a web of data.

[ZZZ.]

[John, John, damn, is that thing transmitting junk files to you again?]

Sora's voice echoes in his mind.

Since entering the Bolago Club, it has maintained silence, clearly a show-off, about to take the stage, yet not uttering a peep.

If it weren't for John being influenced by Black Light, the entire negotiation process lacks its presence.

"Much better, just a minor issue."

John pushes away the Black Gold Gang's bodyguard, rubs his sweat-soaked cheeks, regains his composure, and his gaze falls once more on Bone Shards behind the table.

The Black Gold Gang Speaker narrows his eyes.

"Cyberpsychosis, huh? No wonder you're in such a rush to show off, a terminal celebration, John."

He shakes his head with a bitter smile, not hiding his disappointment, self-soothingly says, "But it doesn't matter, the bet stays the same, you better lose it on the ring, suddenly lose control, perish alongside Crocodile."

"Letting you take advantage?"

"Ha, don't waste it, if you don't survive, I'll give a sum to your friend, Gino, right? His brother is considered part of the gang, I'll convert it into relocation fees, then following what you said, leave your employees a lifeline."

Bone Shards curls his lips. "Though I don't agree, I know you care about this."

"I'm dead; how do I ensure you follow through?"

"John, what do you think made me the Speaker of the Black Gold Gang?"

Bone Shards crosses his legs, his tone lazy, he opens his palm toward John, stacked in front of him. "Those who follow me aren't blind, this deal is just convenient; I have no need to ruin my credibility."

John furrows his brow and asks again.

"Speaking so lightly, doesn't it matter if cyberpsychosis breaks out in the ring?"

In Bone Shards' eyes, John has nearly become a breathing corpse, as the gang Speaker is trying to end this impulsive transaction.

He explains his tone flatly, very unseriously.

"It's only cyberpsychosis; boxers are the sponsors' product testers, madness and sudden death on the ring is common; it happens every season... John, high-stakes jobs aren't just mercenaries; the mortality rate for fighters is also very high."

Bone Shards simply explains a few more sentences.

Spectators enjoy seeing surprises; variables can stimulate gamblers' nerves; in terms of spectatorial enjoyment, cyberpsychosis is tolerable.

Overall, the ring rules aren't complicated.

Each round is fifteen minutes, with halftime breaks.

From the third round onwards, embedded weapon restrictions are lifted — Mantis Blade, monomolecular line, Half-Palm Arm Blade, etc.

As long as there are no bullets, no gunfire, pull them out and use them freely.

That's what pleases the audience.

Company tests collect comprehensive prosthetic body data.

John thinks for a moment, then asks, "What about chips?"

"No restrictions, motion chips are also mainstream test products; for protection, to avoid unreleased products being leaked, we won't even check players' plugins; oh, but one thing, no hacking tricks allowed to restrict opponent's prosthetic body; overload and interference aren't allowed."

John is somewhat puzzled. "You don't check, what if someone suddenly uses hacking techniques? Even outside spectators, if they mess with the odds?"

"As a dead man, you're asking a few too many questions; never mind, just to let you die peacefully; Internet Surveillance is also our important partner; in cyberspace, someone is watching; don't use tech to black opponents, unless you want the cyber army to besiege you again."