Cyberpunk Patriarch-Chapter 116: Suffering Is Like the Sun That Never Fades

Even though Arthur had secured the land, no one was going to clean up the mess—literally. He had to head out himself to clear the trash, shoo off the squatters, and set up a proper perimeter. This was Badlands, after all. If you didn't show up in person, you might find your lot turned into a drug den overnight.

More importantly, he needed to arrange a meeting with the local Rangers and finalize the supply route. That meant facing Sol and whatever lingering biotech drama he'd stirred up. From what Arthur had heard, Sol had played his cards well—enough to cozy up with Biotechnica using the leaked information Arthur had shared.

On paper, Biotechnica sounded humble, scientific. But their reputation—especially in the Badlands—was worse than Militech's. At least Militech didn't pretend to be something it wasn't. Biotechnica smelled like decay under perfume: clean on the surface, rotten underneath.

Arthur slid back into his car, lit up a cig, and adjusted his seat. With David in the passenger side, slouched and quiet, Arthur started the engine and turned toward the dusty highway.

"Alright, kid," he said, sparing David a glance. "It's time to shake off the melancholy. If you're stuck in 'existential crisis mode,' how about I take you to Niaowa Street? You know—see some action, clear your mind?"

David flinched and blushed furiously. "Wh-why would I want to go to a place like that?!"

Arthur smirked, satisfied. At least the kid still had some innocence left.

The car weaved through early afternoon traffic, slicing past neon-lit billboards and the buzzing energy of Night City's sprawl. Daytime offered a different kind of charm here. You couldn't see the vomit or hear the screams. The filth was still there—it just hid better.

David finally broke the silence. "Dad... are there a lot of people like that guy? The one at the bank?"

Arthur didn't respond right away. He blew out a stream of smoke, letting the haze curl near the dashboard.

"More than the cockroaches under our sink," he muttered.

David looked away, lips pressed tight.

"Then what can we do to help them?"

Arthur nearly laughed—but caught himself. He glanced at David and noticed the serious glint in his son's eyes. The kid still had heart. That was dangerous in Night City.

"Maybe drag a meteor out of orbit, crash it into Earth, and reset the damn system," Arthur said with a smirk. "Or hey—kill Militech, Arasaka, Biotechnica, and every other bastard with a logo."

David perked up. "So... those corps are behind all this?"

Arthur honked twice, cursed at a jaywalking homeless man, and shouted out the window, "Hey! You blind? I'll send you to Johnny Silverhand myself!"

The homeless man clasped his hands and bowed. "Bless you! If only I could see Johnny Silverhand!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "See what I mean?"

He steered hard right to avoid another puddle and continued, "If you wanna change the world, you better be ready to burn it all down—and yourself with it. That's the price."

"Forget empathy. Forget trying to fix everyone. Just care about the people close to you. That's more than most do."

They zipped up onto the elevated expressway, shadows cutting across the windshield.

"Tragedy isn't new," Arthur said, tone leveling out. "It happened a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, and it'll still happen a thousand years from now."

"Pain? Suffering? That's the sun over Night City—it never sets."

David sat in silence, watching the skyline blur past them. His fingers rested on his lap, twitching with indecision. The world suddenly felt heavier. More fragile.

Arthur looked over and smiled slightly. "Your mom sheltered you real good, huh?"

David said nothing.

"Stick with me, kid. You'll see Night City for what it is. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find your own way through it."

The boy nodded, unsure of whether to feel comforted or scared.

"Wanna be a hero?" Arthur said, flooring the gas. "Then start with the people who matter. Like those tech monkeys back at the factory. They need you more than the world does."

The car zoomed past a pothole, splashing a pedestrian with murky water. The man shouted after them, shaking his fist—then quickly inspected the box he was carrying. It was intact. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Inside the box? A dose of Arthur's latest neuro-stabilizer.

It had already started spreading like wildfire through the city—cheaper than inhibitors, safer than street junk. If nothing else, Arthur's little empire was helping people stay on the rails.

Eventually, the car sped past the city limits and onto cracked asphalt.

Badlands.

Arthur's grimace returned. Nothing but dust, radiation signs, and rusting wreckage.

This place made Taipingzhou look like paradise.

"Alright, kid," Arthur said as he rolled down his window. "You're staying with the car."

"What?" David blinked. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"Place is crawling with old-world warlords, cyber-hillbillies, and angry lizards the size of minivans. You'll just slow me down."

David sighed, reluctantly handing over the keys. "Fine. But next time, I'm going in."

Arthur stepped out, boots crunching on sand and broken glass. The Civic Center was done. He had land, approval, and license to operate.

Now came the real work—building an empire in the shadow of rot.

He looked up at the blistering sky, flicked away the last bit of his cigarette, and whispered,

"Suffering never fades... but

maybe I can learn to sell the antidote."

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