The decision to kill off two of the most popular characters in Edgerunners back-to-back should have been a death sentence for the series' popularity. Instead, the opposite was happening. The ranking was soaring.
As one fan on the official forums put it:
"Although I'm devastated by the deaths of Maine and Dorio, I know that in a place like Night City, the 'good' never live long.
Because of that, I can accept that their deaths were inevitable. In fact, this tragic ending actually elevated them. It showed me that even in a place as filthy and soulless as Night City, there are still people with hearts,people who care for their friends above everything else.
I will always remember that there was once a legendary duo in Night City named Maine and Dorio.
But having said that... I still want to scream at 'Old Thief Aoyama.' You absolute madman, you deserve to be hit with a MaxTac breach!"
This comment was quickly propelled to the top of the thread by tens of thousands of likes, surpassing even the original post for Chapter 23.
The fans were right: the deaths of Maine and Dorio had defined their legacy.
Even as the readers wept and vented their fury, they couldn't turn away. They had to admit that the tragedy made the story feel real. It made the world of Edgerunners more vibrant, more terrifying, and more beautiful.
There is a difference between "killing for shock value" and "killing for meaning." In Aoyama's previous life, there were series that threw away characters just to create cheap drama: deaths that came out of nowhere, with no foreshadowing, just to elicit a momentary reaction. Those deaths were insulting to the fans, often becoming memes of mockery rather than moments of mourning.
But in Edgerunners, every death had weight. Every tragedy was a consequence of the world's internal logic. They were like moths drawn to a neon flame: beautiful, desperate, and destined to burn out.
And so, the fans could forgive the story, even if they couldn't forgive the author.
For now, Aoyama was being branded as "the most unhinged man in the industry." While the series was still technically a "niche" title due to its dark themes, it had set the manga community on fire. The viral ripples were spreading across forums, blogs, and social media platforms.
But it wasn't just staying within the borders.
The Federation was vast, a titan that had absorbed several surrounding regions into its fold. While some historical factors meant the domestic population wasn't quite as high as it might have been, it still stood at a staggering 1.4 billion.
Even a "niche" hit in a population that large was a cultural phenomenon.
In terms of sheer numbers, a "small circle" of fans in the Federation was the equivalent of half the population of a European nation.
And then... there was the international stage.
---
One week later, in the United States.
James sat at his desk, staring blankly at the final scanlation pages for Chapter 23.
His mind was still reeling. All he could see was Maine's face, that twisted, terrifying, yet profoundly tender expression as he told David to "Run."
For the first time in his life, James felt that a piece of art could have "weight." It felt like seeing the final, feverish masterpiece of a dying master.
The slap Maine had given David felt like it had landed on James's own soul. He felt the grief of a disciple watching a savior suffer, combined with a sense of awe at the sheer tragic beauty of the moment.
He was heartbroken. But as he wiped away his tears, he realized that if Maine had to die, this was the perfect way for him to go.
He didn't take to Skyline to rant this time. Instead, he worked in a state of quiet, reverent focus, finishing the English translation in record time.
Shortly after, the English version of Chapter 23 was released to the American fanbase.
In a rough neighborhood in the outskirts of New York, a young man named Riggs finished the chapter.
Riggs loved Edgerunners for a simple reason: the main characters lived the life they did. They were outlaws, survivors, people who lived on the "edge."
In his eyes, Maine and Dorio weren't just characters; they were reflections of the life he and his friends lived every day. They were "Cyberpunks" (a term that felt so much cooler than "gang kid" or "thug").
Maine was his favorite. It was the skin color, the attitude, the way he carried himself. It was the same reason people in the Federation loved seeing their own people portrayed as heroes in international media.
Maine was a leader. He was powerful, loyal, and unapologetically himself. He lived by the "code of the street," the bond of brotherhood that Riggs and his crew valued above all else.
Maine was an idol. A man who was strong enough to be a king. Riggs had often fantasized that if cybernetic technology were real today, he'd be the first in line to volunteer for the chrome.
Seeing Maine die... it felt personal.
"NO!"
Riggs slammed his hand onto his table, a string of profanities erupting from his lips. "Motha-f,! That damn author! Don't let me ever see his face, or I'm gonna personally avenge Maine!"
An older, white gang member walked over, curious about the outburst. "Hey, Riggs, what's the noise about? You look like someone stole your car."
"Man, Tom... Maine is dead. That Federation author just killed him. Sh,... I really want to go over there and put a lead in that guy!"
"Wait, Maine died? It's just a comic, kid. Don't let it get to you..."
Scenes like this were playing out across the world. Not just in the streets, but in the offices of corporate workers and the bedrooms of quiet students.
Some were angry; others, like James, found a strange kind of peace in the tragedy. But no one who read Chapter 23 was left unchanged.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]