How to Survive in a Fusion Punk

Prologue – Project Neo

Born in an era where ordinary effort couldn’t lead to an ordinary life, in a time of shattered exchange rates, where people readily sow division, heap curses, and are easily swayed by demagogues, he lived 30 years of his life, just scraping by, minding his own business.

As a result, when he looks back at the not-so-distant past, he can now think, “Those were the good days.” and “Back in my day…”

He had grown into a typical young, hardworking man, perfectly fitting for 21st-century South Korea.

Nevertheless, he was a decent son who never caused his parents too much trouble, and a good friend and lover.

At the same time, like any other guy his age, he was a light gamer.

The reason for the “light” label was due to the fact that, recently, he had been cutting back on his gaming time.

In fact, not wanting to add more stress to his life from his job by playing games, he had even uninstalled the online co-op multiplayer game he once loved.

Instead, he began focusing on PC or console games that he could enjoy on his own in peace, and recently he started exploring games with solid world-building and storytelling.

The last game he played was about a rookie cop starting their first day in a city overrun by a virus.

It was a satisfying blend of horror and action.

He thought about playing the sequel, but decided against it, as he didn’t like to play too many games of the same genre back-to-back.

That’s when he found his new game: “Project Neo,” a title recommended by a younger acquaintance.

“Hey, hyung, it’s seriously fun, you know? Did I ever tell you something that wasn’t true?”

“I don’t know anything about Cyberpunk.”

“Eh, you don’t need to. Someone will start it for you anyway.”

He couldn’t refuse because the nagging was relentless.

At some point, he found himself installing the game.

Estimated time: 51 minutes and 13 seconds.

He took advantage of the free time to browse for more information.

Project Neo.

A Cyberpunk-themed open-world RPG.

The more he searched, he found that the game was not just Cyberpunk but also blended with Arcanepunk and Biopunk—an eclectic world.

To someone unfamiliar like him, it seemed like a dystopian world packed with robots, magic, and zombies—though it had excellent gameplay, so despite its niche appeal, it appeared to have a decent following.

As he browsed the community, he noticed a stream of recommendation and info posts.

He clicked on one of them.

New Player Tips for Project Neo (Last Updated: 24.03.28)

Even when he was a student with far more free time, he enjoyed following pre-tested builds that others had already figured out.

After all, when playing alone, it’s best to go with what’s easy and convenient.

So he scrolled through the tips, reading carefully as screenshots and text alternated.

The information was more complicated than he expected, and he sighed.

Just then, as the game launched and the screen went dark, he called his younger acquaintance.

“Hyung, what’s wrong? Oh, you don’t get it? It’s okay, don’t worry.”

The bright voice continued.

“The difficulty is on easy. The game’s pretty tough, and if you start thinking it’ll be a breeze, you’re in for a rough time. You hate that kind of thing, don’t you? Anyway, you can adjust the difficulty while playing, so if it gets too easy, you can increase it later.”

“As for your life path… Oh, you want to be a vagabond?”

At least he knew what he wanted there.

He had no interest in big corporations or families in such games, as he enjoyed the grind from the bottom up.

“Then I’ll give you a build suited for a vagabond. I’ve put over 1,000 hours into this playthrough. Choose the Irregular trait, and for the first perk, go with Fast Recovery. That’s the best combo for a vagabond. Why, you ask…”

Then the younger one started explaining the build in detail, and seeing it was turning into a long conversation, he thanked him and hung up.

He decided he’d ask for more details later or refer to the strategy guides.

Character creation continued.

He wasn’t great at customizing, so he kept it simple, making the character look decently handsome.

The fact that he could even adjust the character’s private parts was a little surprising, but since he was going for the “good enough” approach, he decided to go all in and maxed it out.

Finally, he entered his character’s name, and it was done.

Before pressing the start button, he placed his cup noodles and cola on the desk to enjoy while playing.

There was nothing better than enjoying ramen while taking breaks during a game.

But, he never got to enjoy his snack.

The moment he clicked the start button, filled with anticipation, he opened his eyes in a dim, damp alleyway.

His face pressed against the wet ground.

Chapter 1 – Lost City

When I looked up, the towering skyscrapers that touched the clouds formed a ridge.

AV aircrafts, known as “AV,” flew around like flies, and acid rain often drizzled down, while enormous neon signs painted in all colors covered the massive city.

This was Lost City.

The first place Jin opened his eyes was at the bottom of that Lost City, in Downtown.

To describe it with the knowledge from his hometown, it felt like a mixture of the security of 1980s Harlem in America and the visual chaos of Kowloon Walled City in Hong Kong during that time.

It was truly a lawless zone.

For Jin, who grew up in South Korea, where gun control is the strictest in the world, everything was overwhelming and difficult to handle.

In fact, the first day Jin woke up, while wandering the streets, he was shot three times—once in the shoulder, once in the chest, and once in the abdomen.

The only reason he didn’t die was simply because his body was tough.

Jin, a vagabond whose life path granted him a 30% bonus to his physical strength, was quick to recover, saving on potion costs.

He also had a characteristic that allowed him to surpass the limits of his species—an irregularity.

These three factors came together to give Jin an incredibly tenacious vitality.

Thus, Jin learned the laws of the streets using nothing but his body, without any tricks.

Bruises, rips, and broken bones were a regular occurrence, and he often went hungry or bedridden like a corpse, repeating it over and over.

A year passed like this.

Jin had somehow survived.

Somehow was the right word.

Even Jin hadn’t expected to last this long.

Of course, one year didn’t bring any major changes.

Today, Jin was still sitting in his usual corner of a pub, ordering dinner.

“Here.”

A plate of fried chicken was placed on the table with a thud.

As the owner returned to the kitchen, Jin rubbed his palms together, preparing to start his meal when a translucent window suddenly appeared before him.

[???]

The window was filled with question marks, and Jin’s expression twisted in disgust.

“Shit…”

The status window, without offering any hints, popped up whenever it liked and irritated him.

Jin hated the status window.

He loathed it to the point of disgust.

The screen, cluttered with nothing but question marks, annoyed him, and the sudden, uninvited appearances felt like a reminder that his struggles were nothing but a fake life reflected on the other side of a monitor.

In a world where even the human body is being replaced by machines, sometimes Jin found it hard to trust his own senses.

What if all of this was just a haphazard combination of 0s and 1s?

“Go away. Damn it.”

Jin swatted at the air to dismiss the status window, forcing a smile.

The chicken he tore into, with a sense of expectation, was disgustingly bad.

It had a sponge-like texture that made his eyes twitch.

He’d been tricked.

It had been delicious last time.

How could this be?

But what could he do?

His pockets were already light.

“Better than nothing,” Jin silently chewed on the chicken.

Of course, the fact that he had no money left was a problem.

Jin lived day by day.

In Downtown, saving money was tantamount to having “kill me now” tattooed on your forehead.

Born with no concept of credit, Jin couldn’t even get a credit card, which was a part of his daily struggle.

Looking back, he regretted it a lot.

“Ah, should have just gone with a corporation or a noble family.”

Had he chosen a corporation, he could have been living a life of luxury, flipping through papers in a skyscraper somewhere, enjoying a glass of wine.

Noble families weren’t bad either.

Magic, swordsmanship, spirits, and all that.

If he had become part of a group that inherited such legacies, his life would have surely been a proud one.

But as a vagabond?

The streets were a jungle of survival of the fittest.

If you didn’t understand the rules, you’d just be hunted.

In fact, the reason Jin had chosen the life of a vagabond was because the idea of it sounded cool.

Let’s face it, when you’re born with a dick, you can’t help but feel your blood boil.

The wild dogs of the city, treating life and death as one.

A harsh journey starting from the bottom.

From the very keywords, it radiated a badass vibe.

It was far more appealing than the high-and-mighty lives of the privileged.

But that’s only for those watching from beyond the monitor.

The reality was far crueler than any comparison could describe.

In that sense, Jin was proud of himself.

He had survived for a year.

And he was still alive and well.

“Hey.”

It was a gruff voice.

Jin, busy chewing, looked up at the voice.

Naturally, his tilted gaze met the eyes of a man.

A face he hadn’t seen before.

But in Downtown, people don’t bother with formalities when meeting for the first time.

And Jin was no exception.

“What’s up?”

Jin chewed the meat slowly, rolling his eyes without letting it show.

A group of men surrounded his table.

One, two, three, four, five.

None of them seemed to have cyberware attached.

Wait, maybe it’s internal.

As Jin quietly calculated, the man who first spoke opened his mouth again.

“I heard you beat up our youngest pretty badly.”

“Huh?”

Jin tilted his head, squinting as he searched for the new face.

The man, hiding behind the others, was glaring at him with a scowling face, and his bruised appearance looked oddly familiar.

“Hey, you?”

Jin pointed at the man.

He remembered the pickpocket from earlier this morning, who had swiped his wallet with a purposeful shoulder bump.

“You said you’d never show your face again if I let you go, right?”

Jin recalled how the man had begged, saying he wouldn’t appear before him again if he let him off with just a broken nose.

And yet, here he was.

“Shut up, you bastard. You’re dead now, you know that?”

The man yelled as the others closed in.

Jin sighed.

Then, he picked up the last piece of chicken and stabbed it with his fork before bringing it to his mouth.

The men, watching him, slowly began to draw their knives.

From beyond the blade, a voice with a mocking tone came.

“If you’ve messed up someone’s face that badly, you must have some money to settle it, right? Show me what you got. If it’s good enough, we can settle for just cutting off your limbs.”

Jin pulled the fork from his mouth, replying flatly.

“I don’t have money. Spent it all.”

Then, with the shiny fork, Jin stabbed the nearest man in the thigh.

“…?”

The man hadn’t expected a mere utensil to puncture through his clothes and skin, and his scream came a moment too late.

“Ahhh!”

Jin twisted around, kicked the fork deeper, and heard a crack as the bone broke.

The man screamed louder, filling the pub with his cries.

“Crazy!”

“Kill him!”

His friends shouted as they rushed at Jin, but by that time, Jin was already standing, throwing a punch at one of them.

Wham!

The punch landed squarely in the man’s face, sending him back onto his knees, blood spraying as his head snapped backward.

Jin didn’t stop.

He quickly turned, kneeing another man in the abdomen as they tried to swarm him.

Coughing up air, the man crumpled, and Jin grabbed his head, slamming it onto the table.

The glass cracked with a sound like a meteor hitting the earth, and blood began seeping into the cracks.

At the same time, Jin let go of the man’s hair, though he wanted to slam him down a few more times.

But then, a knife flew toward him.

Thud.

“…?!”

The man had never imagined someone would catch the blade with their bare hands.

He stared wide-eyed as Jin tightened his grip.

The man’s eyes narrowed in panic as he yanked the blade toward himself.

“What’s this?”

It didn’t budge.

“What’s going on?”

The man grunted as his fingers slipped off, a sharp sense of dread filling him.

As the man struggled, seemingly stuck between a rock and a hard place, Jin’s forehead slammed into his nose like a dump truck.

A burst of blood, yellow teeth flying.

At the same time, a voice rang out from over Jin’s shoulder.

“You bastard!”

Jin turned his body.

The blade grazed his cheek, and his hand locked around the man’s neck, lifting him high and throwing him down with a rough slam!

It was the choke slam—directly onto the hard floor, not a mat.

Bang!

With a sudden gunshot, a hot sensation spread like paint from the right shoulder.

The pain, which never seemed to get any easier, made Jin furrow his brow and turn his face.

A man, his face twisted with fury, aimed the gun at him.

“Die!”

With an enraged shout, the trigger was pulled.

However, the bullet that was fired only shattered the ceiling light.

Jin had already closed the distance and grabbed the man’s wrist, forcibly lifting his hand.

“What… What strength…!”

The man, unable to believe the loss of control over his arm, struggled, but a fist was soon shoved into his face.

With the man unconscious, Jin swiftly pulled the handgun from his limp hand like water flowing.

Then, aiming the gun downward, he fired round after round at the five men who had collapsed.

Now there was only one left.

The pickpocket who had crouched on the floor trembled his chin in fear.

He hadn’t run away sooner because the fight had ended so quickly before his eyes.

“Wait, wait a second.”

Dragging his buttocks along the floor, the man waved his hands in refusal as Jin took slow steps toward him.

“Hey.”

“Y-Yes? Yes, yes.”

“Do you know what day it is today?”

“Th-That is…”

The pickpocket rolled his eyes in confusion.

What was Jin suddenly asking about today?

Though he had no clue, he figured saying he didn’t know might be dangerous, so he hesitated, not knowing whether to speak or stay silent.

Jin kindly provided the answer for him.

“The answer is the first anniversary.”

“…? First anniversary? D-Do you have a partner?”

“Don’t talk about partners.”

Jin wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, still holding the pistol.

As his hand brushed across his skin, blood spread up to his ear.

“It’s the first aniverasry of a loser who cried over looking after his mom at 30 years old. So I let it slide nicely. It’s a meaningful day.”

“Wh-What are you talking about…?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Immediately after, the dry sound of the gunshot filled the air.

The brass cartridge rolled across the floor, and the pistol, now emptied, ceased its movement as the slide locked back.

The faint smell of gunpowder began to rise from the weapon.

The pickpocket, with a hole through his brow, collapsed face-first next.

Only then did Jin toss the now useless pistol behind him and squat down, rifling through the bodies.

Wait a second.

Does this make me a pickpocket too?

No, there’s no ownership on a dead person.

Is there?

Nah, it doesn’t matter.

Even if there is, there isn’t in Downtown.

Damn slums.

Damn game.

Damn life.

After justifying himself enough, Jin found a crumpled bundle of credits in his hand.

He placed more than half of it on the table for repair and cleaning costs.

If he didn’t want to make an enemy of the owner, there was no choice.

That was just how things worked in this business.

Sure enough, the owner, who had already loaded his shotgun, quietly lowered his arm after checking the bills on the table.

Jin gave him a subtle nod before stumbling out of the pub.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Leaving behind the day that had been special only for him.

The long trail of blood that had followed his weary footsteps gradually vanished into the darkness of the street.