Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 750, Section 164: A Great Honor
"As far as I can remember, there should be no conflict between our group and the KK team."

Aguilar's finger was still on the trigger, the smoke from the gun had not yet dissipated, but he did not continue firing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle, whose autopilot system had not been activated, veer out of control toward the end of the street and crash violently into a building around the corner, the ear-piercing sound of metal twisting echoing in the distance.

However, his gaze never left Karl; his cold eyes were like those of a predator locking onto its prey, slowly and precisely assessing every subtle reaction of the other.

“But you actually appeared in front of me.” Aguilar’s ​​voice was low and hoarse, like thunder deliberately suppressed, with an almost dangerous calmness.

This is the standard voice recorded in the materials—calm and composed, yet with an invisible sense of oppression hidden in every syllable. In the past, anyone who was stared at by him in this way and spoke to him in this voice felt a chill run down their spine, as if they were being watched by some kind of predator, and even breathing became difficult.

However, KK was clearly not among those people.

Aguilar's lips tightened slightly, his knuckles gripping the gun handle more firmly. "...Then it seems there will be conflict even if there isn't." He paused, the threat in his tone no longer concealed. "I will take this as a provocation against us."

"I don't care what you think."

Carl shrugged lazily, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He was in exceptionally good condition at that moment—his half-full stomach provided just the right amount of energy, his blood circulation was at its optimal rate, and even his nerve conduction was a few points faster than usual.

In this state, he could even clearly capture every tremor of Aguilar's eyelashes, every contraction of his muscle fibers, and the moment his opponent's shoulder blades slightly retracted, Karl knew he was about to adjust his center of gravity; when his index finger lightly tapped the trigger, Karl had already predicted his shooting angle 0.1 seconds later.

Should this be called 'pre-reading'? Or is it more like some kind of trajectory deduction based on human biomechanics? Carl thought casually.

He has never been good at naming these abilities, but at this moment, the feeling of being in complete control is so wonderful that his brain can even luxuriously set aside a part of its processing unit to let his thoughts run wild like a runaway horse.

He suddenly recalled scenes from old-fashioned martial arts films: two unparalleled masters would always strike a pose before a duel, either slowly wiping their swords or endlessly boasting about their martial arts skills.

Young Karl couldn't help but wonder what would happen if someone took the opportunity to launch a sneak attack. Now that he was in that position himself, he understood that when both sides were at their peak, those seemingly casual conversations were nothing more than bubbles floating on the surface of consciousness. True attention was always locked onto the other's every pore contraction and every iris contraction and relaxation, like a precision radar.

Any attempt at a sneak attack will create ripples in still water before it is even launched. Acting rashly will only disrupt the balance and put the first mover at a disadvantage.
Of course, this was just Carl's speculation based on his own experience. Maybe those heroes in the movies were just trying to look cool? This thought almost made him laugh out loud.

Karl's subtle emotional fluctuations, like ripples on water, were clearly reflected in Aguilar's sharp gaze. The legendary assassin unconsciously furrowed his brow—he clearly sensed that the opponent before him, whom he needed to be fully vigilant against, was currently distracted. What made him even more uneasy was that Karl did not seem to be focusing all his attention on this life-or-death confrontation.

This should have been a blatant insult.

If it were anyone else, Aguilar would have already taught them the 'price of being distracted in the face of death' with bullets. But facing Karl, facing KK, he couldn't find a single opportunity. That seemingly nonchalant, absent-minded state was more like a meticulously woven trap, so perfect it was chilling.

Aguilar's gaze scanned Karl's every point of contact, every shift in his eyes, and even the theoretically existing blind spots.

Countless times, his fighting instincts urged him to break the strange stalemate, but each time he was about to make a move, a sense of danger welling up from the depths of his bones pierced his nerves like steel needles—he couldn't move, he absolutely couldn't make the first move.

The premonition was so strong, as if the slightest movement he made would immediately unleash a devastating storm. Taking advantage of the brief lull before Karl could act, Agilar attempted to secretly contact backup. Sure enough, the communication channels had been severed; electronics were as silent as a tomb. Just as he quickly scanned his surroundings—

"Don't worry."

Karl's voice rang out at just the right moment, as precise as if a scalpel had cut through the crack of opportunity. The timing was so perfect that if it were used for a sneak attack, it would definitely draw blood from Aguilar. This realization made the legendary assassin's heart clench.

"There's no one else here but you and me, so don't worry."

Karl smiled the smile all too familiar to the residents of Night City, a smile that carried a hint of calm and a touch of danger, as if he were casually chatting in a bar:
"Personally, I prefer to respect living legends."

The instant Karl finished speaking, his right hand suddenly rose.

Aguilar's pupils suddenly contracted—a cold-glowing metal cube slid from Karl's sleeve, leaving a silver trail in the air.

The cube seemed to come alive as it landed precisely in Karl's palm. The instant it made contact with the silver pistol in his hand, the hum of its precise mechanical operation was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent street.

Aguilar witnessed a breathtaking weapon transformation show.

Countless nanoscale components reassembled like flowing mercury, the clicking of gears meshing into a dense rhythm. In less than the time it takes for a heartbeat to pass, the elegant pistol had transformed into a futuristic submachine gun, its dark muzzle pointed directly at his forehead.

"The legendary transforming module weapon." Agilar's eyes changed slightly.

Rumor has it that even its master would need a year to master the weapon, but Karl's smooth and effortless handling at this moment is like playing with a toy he has used since childhood.

Aguilar felt a bit ironic that he had actually believed those rumors about KK—in front of this man, the so-called 'uncontrollable weapon' was simply a false proposition.

Moreover, this was a work of art tailor-made for him by the gun fanatics at the Tsunami Design Bureau, and it probably already had some kind of strange tacit understanding with his nerves.

The air seemed to solidify into transparent amber. Aguilar knew a storm of gunfire was about to engulf him, but a strange sense of resonance made him blurt out a seemingly nonsensical question:

"Who am I?"

Karl's finger was already on the trigger, but a knowing smile appeared on his face. The muzzle remained perfectly still as he softly replied:

"First."

Aguilar nodded slightly, a gesture that seemed to soften the coldness on his face.

"It's a great honor."

(End of this chapter)