The Berserk implant—also known as the Berserk Module.
A neural system implant developed to rival and break the market monopoly of speedware systems.
Although Lin Mo didn't fully understand its mechanics, and his knowledge of it was still surface-level, he was well aware of what it did.
Where speedware gave the user control over time, Berserk granted dominion over instinct.
Put simply, it resembled the "berserker rage" abilities common to barbarians and warriors in fantasy worlds.
What it lacked in temporal manipulation—like slowing down one's perception of time—it compensated for with advanced combat algorithms.
Healing subroutines, defensive modulation systems, and offensive execution protocols...
When activated, the implant turned its user into a beast-like combat master. It boosted every aspect of their physical capabilities, while also enhancing them with combat support modules.
No wonder the brute could react to Lin Mo's attacks, but not counter them.
That reaction wasn't willful—it was driven by combat subroutines that allowed for instinctive defense.
But the implant didn't grant the ability to bend time. It couldn't reverse or match Lin Mo's moves—only absorb, redirect, or counterattack when an opening was presented.
It also explained why the brute had been able to withstand the Black Unicorn's strike.
The defensive modulation algorithm likely activated nanobots inside his body, linking with his cyberware to adjust its structure, absorbing or diffusing incoming force.
Depending on user preferences, Berserk modules could also be paired with hormone regulation, auto-aim assistance, melee support software, and more.
The perfect war machine.
Lin Mo straightened his stance, then gradually lowered his body. His legs shifted into a forward-leaning stance, both hands gripping the katana's hilt, blade angled across his eyes and pointed at the brute's arm—the one still holding the hostage.
All of this was done under Sandevistan's slowed-time state. What looked like a complex, precise stance took less than a second in real time.
Before anyone could even react, Lin Mo was already in position to strike.
A sudden gust of wind sliced through the space between them. The katana darted forward like a dragon. Lin Mo launched from the ground like a falcon, blade gleaming like a comet descending from the heavens—his target: the brute's wrist.
An attack this fast should've been impossible to parry—but somehow, the beast reacted.
He swung his other fist directly at the katana's tip, completely unafraid of its sharp edge, like a mountain crashing down.
But just as blade and fist were about to collide—the katana veered.
A feint.
The full-speed strike was a bluff. Lin Mo darted to the opposite side like a serpent, blade rising with true killing intent.
Feint the punch, exploit the broken rhythm, and pour every ounce of power into a single slash!
No matter how instinctive a beast's defense, it couldn't match a predator who controlled the flow of combat.
He tricked the brute into wasting his strength, then exploited the brief window before a new attack could begin.
Clang! A harsh metallic sound rang out. Lin Mo's blade felt like it had struck reinforced fluid.
The brute's defensive algorithm had kicked in, dispersing much of the blow. The katana cut deep—down to the bone—but didn't sever the arm.
The brute roared in rage. Drawn out by the slowed time, the scream echoed.
Gunfire hadn't harmed him. But Lin Mo's blade had drawn blood—his first real injury.
His reason slipping further, the brute lashed out with feral punches—wide, powerful, and terrifying to anyone watching.
But to Lin Mo, it was clumsy and juvenile. Like a child's tantrum.
He sidestepped a punch, the massive fist passing inches from his face. He struck again, slicing at the same wounded spot, mixing feints and true strikes.
The angrier the brute became, the more openings he left.
Lin Mo aimed for vital points, but each time, the brute would react violently—sometimes even using the hostage as a shield.
Even in Berserk state, the beast instinctively prioritized his own survival.
Lin Mo had no choice but to focus on wounding the arm repeatedly instead.
The blade danced like a tide.
Strike after strike landed. On the final slash, an arc of sparks burst forth—and the brute could no longer maintain his grip.
The hostage was freed.
"Reiko..."
The brute tried to snatch her back, but the damaged cybernetic arm trembled uncontrollably, no longer responding.
Lin Mo didn't press the attack.
Now that the brute had a free hand, the fight would be far more dangerous. He could no longer rely on controlling the flow with a single focus.
Instead, he caught Rikki mid-fall and retreated, placing her in a safe area—right beside a wide-eyed Jack, still stunned by what he'd witnessed.
Twenty seconds had passed.
His Sandevistan overheated and shut down.
Despite how intense the battle felt, in the real world, less than a minute had passed.
Lin Mo let go. The moment Rikki lost his support, she collapsed to the ground, sliding down the wall, her face still pale with fear.
"Th-thank you..." she managed, glancing up at the boy with the katana.
Though she had bravely fought back earlier, now she realized just how brutal the brute's grip had been. Her waist was already badly injured.
Lin Mo didn't respond. Instead, he eyed the shotgun still in her hands.
After identifying the model, he commented dryly:
"Constitution Arms M2038 Tactical. Decent enough, but... not great for fighting this kind of target."
"Who the fuck expected a maniac like that tonight?!" Rikki hissed, glaring at the brute.
Even now, the brute tried to reach her, but Lin Mo stepped in front, katana at the ready.
And for the first time, the beast hesitated.
The Berserk module gave him animal instinct—and with it, the dread of facing a true predator.
"Kid, need a hand? We just have to stall this nutjob until MaxTac shows up. They'll handle it," Jack offered, finally snapping out of it.
At this point, even an idiot would realize the brute was a full-blown cyberpsycho—covered in implants, mentally broken, mistaking Rikki for someone else...
And MaxTac was made for precisely this kind of situation.
"No need. You should cancel the call," Lin Mo replied calmly, drawing two fingers across the polished edge of his blade.
"Because—he's mine."
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