Chapter 293 – Ambition, Isn’t That Just a Dream?
🟥⚡ TOP 30 POWER STONE LEGENDS – NEW GENERATION ⚡🟥🦾 CYBERPUNK: 2077 HONOR TRANSMISSION 🦾>> NETLINK ESTABLISHED>> ENERGY FLOWING FROM THE 30 CORE OPERATIVES>> SYSTEM POWERED BY LOYALTY AND PURE CHROME
In this new cycle, 30 names rise at the top of the system, not just for their consistency, but for fueling this story with every power stone they've offered. These are the ones who chose the path of unwavering support, the pillars keeping this world alive.
🔋 TOP 30 CONTRIBUTORS // NIGHT CITY SIGNAL STRONGHOLD 🔋⚡ DevilsArray⚡ Aagnus⚡ Indarius⚡ deadpool2014⚡ Roach_mobile⚡ Ain388⚡ Spechtro07⚡ INDRA32⚡ ShanePsycho⚡ glurple⚡ DaoisteNPBM0⚡ Alex_IK⚡ Drwall⚡ Miedo⚡ leokratos⚡ Yvan_Luarez⚡ Outlawjessejames18⚡ Chaotic_Idiot⚡ Dreamcow101⚡ Joseph_Hill_7805⚡ Hruthik_Babu⚡ AshGraveborn⚡ DaoistahH8hp⚡ lomp⚡ Gungnus⚡ VoiceOfOmnius⚡ kpone1⚡ Loharis⚡ SaintWeetard⚡ Crak
🎙️ This chapter is a tribute to all of you.Without your support, the system would crash.With it, we keep pushing the narrative past the edge.
And if you're vibing with this story, I'd love for you to check out my other translated novels — new worlds, new drama, same high-stakes intensity.
Thanks for riding with me, chooms.📍 End of transmission. But the journey's just getting started...
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After running into Maine's crew on the street, Karl, V, and Oliver—who were originally planning to walk to El Coyote Cojo—ended up hitching a ride with them.
Maine's crew operated out of Arroyo in Santo Domingo, right next to the Glen in Heywood, where the bar was located. They had just wrapped up their job and were heading back, so giving Karl's group a lift was no trouble at all.
Karl sat in the passenger seat next to Maine. Glancing back at V, Oliver, and David in the rear, he brought up what had happened earlier on the street.
"Looks like things didn't go as smooth as you'd hoped."
"Didn't think that corp dog had that kind of balls," Maine replied as he pulled into traffic. "We finally got a decent lead today—figured we'd grab someone and get some answers. Instead, he blew himself up."
Eyes on the road, Maine muttered, "This gig's been rough. We knew it wouldn't be easy, but damn—it's been days and we're still stuck gathering intel. If it were you guys, you'd probably be done by now."
Karl gave a small shrug. "Don't be too hard on yourself. We've been in the same situation. One time, a guy blew himself up right in front of us—we barely had time to react. The blast almost took out our car. With types like that, the only thing you can do is hit 'em with an EMP right away and hope it jams whatever detonation program they're wired with."
"Lesson learned. Next time, I'm tossing an EMP grenade first and asking questions later."
Maine pressed down on the gas, the vehicle speeding up with the weight of five passengers. "Still... if we pull this off, I might finally hit the big leagues."
"'Big leagues,' huh? Has a nice ring to it," Karl replied—then added, "But if that promise came from Faraday, it sounds more like hot air."
That made Maine pause, ever so slightly, before answering.
"You know?"
"More or less. But hey, we're all mercs here. I'm not gonna pry, not gonna ask for confirmation. Just a heads-up—be careful. Faraday's greedy as hell. If things go bad, he won't think twice about selling you out. If it comes to that, don't hesitate—run. A merc can lose their rep and still rebuild. Lose your life? You're done."
"Coming from the guy with a 100% completion rate, that advice hits different," Maine said with a sigh.
"But I hear you, Karl. You probably think I've been duped, lured in by promises and bullshit. But I'm not blind. I know exactly what Faraday's like. I just… this job—it's the only shot I've got right now to put my name on the map."
He tightened his grip on the wheel.
"Not everyone can be like you. My crew's been stuck doing low-tier gigs for years. And I've been a merc for over seven years now. If I keep going like this, I don't know when—or if—I'll ever break through. Some things… you have to risk everything for. Even if it might kill you."
Wagering your life, just for a shot at glory.
Any merc with real ambition knows that feeling. Everyone wants to be the next Morgan Blackhand or Adam Smasher. But who ever really makes it? No one knows. You chase that dream and roll the dice with your life.
Karl stayed quiet.
Maine had once been a soldier for the New United States. During the Unification War (2069–2070), he'd gone AWOL, heading to Night City in search of something bigger—to become a legend. That was seven years ago. Seven years of fighting, bleeding, clawing forward. And now that he was finally seeing the faintest glimmer of a breakthrough, was he supposed to stop just because it was dangerous?
Hell no.
Telling Karl to quit chasing his own ambitions would be just as pointless. He could live out the rest of his life in peace, surrounded by wealth and safety—but he'd never stop pushing forward.
If he had wanted a quiet life, he would've ducked and hid the moment he held his first gun. He would've stayed behind cover when the bullets flew. But that's not what mercs do.
A person needs something to live for. For some, it's comfort and calm. For others? It's the relentless pursuit of ambition.
And ambition—well, isn't that just another name for dreams?
Karl could never tell Maine to walk away from that.
"Just make sure I'm at the top of your contact list."
He added, "If you go charging into hell, that's your call. Risking your life's your business. But if things go south, I'd still like to know what happened to my friend."
"Your friend, huh?"
"I mean—somebody's gotta be the one to collect your body. Can't let you die without a proper burial. Would be a waste of all that chromed-out muscle mass."
Maine let out a laugh.
"With the mods I've got now, I'll probably end up as a pile of metal and ash. But yeah… if anyone's gonna handle my funeral, it oughta be you. I bet you'd send my ashes into space, maybe even shoot 'em into the sun for the drama."
He remembered their first job together—back when the Brown Crew had joked about dying with no one to pay for a grave. They said if they all bit it, they'd just scoop up the bones and bury them in one pit.
Back then, Maine hadn't cared.
Now? That wasn't how he wanted to go.
If he had to die, it had to mean something. Had to be big.
The car came to a stop outside El Coyote Cojo. As Maine smiled faintly, Karl stepped out—then paused at the door. He leaned back down and looked through the window at David in the back seat.
"Hey, David—you run fast, right?"
He was thinking back to the moment he saw David trigger his Sandevistan.
"I can catch up to a car now, short distance," David replied confidently.
He hadn't heard the conversation between Karl and Maine—he'd been chatting with V and Oliver in the back—but Karl just smiled at his reply.
"Then when it's time to run—run, David."
Karl left him with that cryptic message and walked toward the bar.
"…What did Karl mean by that?" David asked, confused.
Maine didn't say a word. He quietly restarted the engine.
But he understood.
As the team leader—the one always at the front of the charge—Maine knew.
If it ever came to that point…
"When it's time to run—run, David."
He whispered it to himself.
After all… someone's gotta be fast enough to carry the story home.
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