Neon Dragons - A Cyberpunk Isekai LitRPG Story

Sitting there, a wave of disbelief washing over me, I found the taste of disillusionment rather bitter.

‘Why did I even expect anything different? Just when things seem somewhat manageable, the universe throws me another fucking curveball. No smooth sailing for Sera, no ma’am! Not in this cyberpunk reality! Might as well add a sprinkling of unpredictable Skills into the mix and god fucking knows what else.’

The more I pondered it, however, the more absurd it seemed that I'd expected this world to perfectly mirror Neon Dragons.

I, myself, was the living anomaly in this world already, wasn't I? A ghost in the machine, an aberration in the game's code.

Realising this oddly quelled the storm of frustrations in me.

If the game-world could accommodate a variable as unpredictable as me, then why fuss over the emergence of a few unknown Skills or a few variables that I wasn’t aware of?

The prospect of these new Skills being available to me was actually kind of exhilarating. After all, who wouldn’t love to become an instant genius at whatever they attempted, courtesy of a cheat-like System’s Skills?!

And let's face it, double-dipping into Skill and Attribute experience wasn't exactly a penalty—it was a win-win. Each juggle could potentially boost both my [Juggling] Skill and my Reflex Attribute, doubling the reward for my time and effort.

But if these justifications failed to convince my sceptical side—well, then I was truly and honestly boned, as I was trying real fucking hard to rationalise all of this nonsense!

As disorienting as this newfound revelation was, it also came with its own form of sick, somewhat twisted, liberation. The rules clearly weren't as fixed as I'd thought, and that meant I could potentially bend them, twist them, even break them if I had to.

‘After all,’ I silently mused to myself, ‘when life throws you curveballs, sometimes the best you can do is learn how to juggle.’

And learning to juggle I did.

With renewed determination, I collected the scattered sock-balls that had become the unlikely tools of this newfound Skill. Pushing through an exhaustive half-hour session, my arms reached the brink of rebellion, aching as if ready to secede from the rest of my body.

Yet as I perused the notifications flickering in my cerebral interface, a wash of satisfaction replaced the soreness.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 800xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 700xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 600xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 500xp.

I was tantalisingly close, just a measly 100xp away from hitting Level 1 in [Juggling].

That milestone would bring a data dump of finesse and technique, an undeniable performance enhancer for my grinding routine.

I'd chosen to strategically exhaust my Bonus XP on both the Skill and Attribute, eyeing to unlock that instant download of knowledge as a catalyst for future gains as soon as possible.

Still, there was no denying my physical limitations. My arms screamed for a break, issuing a non-negotiable demand for rest.

'I really need to diversify,' I mused. 'I can't afford to be relying on the Rest Function or, God forbid, twiddle my thumbs doing nothing, every time my garbage physique hits a wall; ‘cause that happens a goddamn lot. That's like flushing precious grinding time down the toilet with spiteful abandon!'

I made a mental note to coax Gabriel into procuring some beginner's resources for my mental grind, perhaps a rudimentary Crown or a [Programming] guide.

Learning to juggle both the physical and the digital spheres could provide invaluable leverage in the long run—pun definitely intended. After all, my wheelchair-bound condition made grinding my Body Attribute a moot point for the time being. Unveiling the pathways to [Hacking] and [Programming], however, would not only fill those idle gaps but also seed long-term advantages.

Yes, for someone whose body was still a work in progress, having a mental edge was not a luxury—it was a downright necessity.

Considering that I didn’t really have anything else available to me at the moment, I had no option but to begrudgingly resort to the Rest Function. It was the lesser of two evils, but still a reluctant concession to my body's limitations.

'Let's see, back when my Body Attribute was below even a pathetic zero, it took around four hours for a full stamina reset. So, with the extra level in Body, should five hours be sufficient to bring me back to peak form?' I pondered, mentally calculating the most time-efficient way to recharge.

However, upon further reflection, I opted for the four-hour rest window. It seemed prudent to err on the conservative side; it was better to risk under-resting than to squander an entire hour for no real gains.

Even though this new life of mine ran on a 24-hour clock just like the old one, giving me vastly more grinding hours than a normal player in Neon Dragons had, those additional hours vanished at an alarming rate when I had to allocate four to five hours of rest for every hour of grinding I did.

As I input the four hours into the timer and tapped 'confirm', I focused intently on my body's state, paying particular attention to the fatigue seeping into my bones and the jelly-like fatigue in my arms.

My eyes fluttered open, sending me spiralling into the all-too-familiar state of complete and utter confusion that came with using the Rest Function.

[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 04:00:00

[System]: 200 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.

A quick self-assessment revealed a delightful surprise: My conservative choice in rest duration had paid off.

"Yes! Take that, you lousy stamina!" I exclaimed to my empty living room, my face breaking into a grin of pure triumph. My body felt as good as new, which meant that the single level bump in my Body Attribute hadn't necessitated an extra hour of downtime for full recovery.

Eager to pick up where I'd left off, I scooped up my sock-bundles and resumed my juggling practice.

However, this time, I made one minor modification: I aimed to not expend my Bonus XP on the Skill.

I was a mere 100 XP away from reaching the first level in [Juggling], so using Bonus XP wouldn't really accelerate my progress. Plus, I had reservations about the Skill's long-term utility; I wasn't sure what Perks levelling it up might unlock—if any.

This also gave me a convenient opportunity to experiment with selectively applying my Bonus XP, a tactic I had yet to try.

To say that I was stoked for this next phase of my grind would be a staggering understatement. If all went as planned with the Bonus XP distribution, this next XP drop would catapult both my [Juggling] Skill to Level 1 and my Reflex Attribute to Level 2.

The anticipation was electrifying!

After nearly eight frenetic minutes of juggling—my palpable excitement causing me to speed up and consequently botch a few throws more than normal—I finally hit the jackpot. A cascade of System Notifications flashed across my cerebral interface, confirming the much-awaited double level-up and my Bonus XP experiment at the same time.

And let me tell you, the euphoria that blasted through my system was otherworldly—akin to a shot of pure adrenaline mixed with ecstasy.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 600xp.

[System]: Reflex Attribute has reached 2.

[System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.

[System]: [Juggling] has reached Level 1.

The instant my Reflex Attribute ticked up to Level 2, I felt a profound, almost seismic, shift throughout my body.

My muscles tingled, as if they were being supercharged with bursts of electric energy. The neurons fired differently, more efficiently, cutting the delay between thought and action by milliseconds that felt like eternities. My hands and arms, previously a tad sluggish, suddenly felt lighter and more responsive.

It was as if the basic coding of my body had been optimised, updated.

I had nudged a step closer to the realm of your average human reflexes, and even this incremental change felt like shedding a layer of invisible weights. The finesse and muscle memory that I had been struggling to build felt like they had just received a firmware upgrade, filling me with a newfound sense of control and mastery over my physical self.

And then came the [Juggling] Skill update.

If I thought the Reflex upgrade was exhilarating, the instantaneous download of knowledge and muscle memory that came with Level 1 in [Juggling] was a revelation.

Much like with my previous Skill upgrades, it was akin to being handed a roadmap to a city I thought I knew, only to realise I'd been navigating blind alleys and one-way streets all along.

My prior juggling attempts—clumsy, inefficient, downright laughable—were now viewed through the lens of crisp, professional technique. My hands instinctively knew how to adjust the arc of each throw, the rotation of my wrists, the timing between catches and releases.

I immediately realised how I could incorporate more sock-bundles to up the complexity and, thus, my future XP gains. I could see pathways to faster juggling, to tricks, to making the exercise not just a grind but an art, in and of itself.

Gasping for air, I felt like I'd been hit by the proverbial truck-kun from all our beloved isekai narratives. The tidal wave of downloaded information and muscle memory had left me momentarily stunned, as if my cognitive and physical systems needed a second to reboot and integrate the fresh data. It was a momentary disorientation that, while jarring, was a minor inconvenience in exchange for what felt like a downright cheat-code for real life.

"Alright, let's see what else you've got," I mumbled to myself, my tone tinged with anticipation as the torrent of incoming data finally plateaued. I navigated through the G.E.M.A. System's interface to pull up my brand-new Skill window.

In Neon Dragons, attaining Level 1 in a Skill granted you access to its corresponding Perk tree, which basically served as your roadmap for future grinding and specialisation. Since [Juggling] was an unexpected Skill—an outlier that shouldn't even exist based on my comprehensive understanding of the Neon Dragons universe—I was particularly keen to find out what kind of Perks it might have had in store, if any.

The UI proved user-friendly, mirroring its in-game counterpart almost uncannily, and it took me just a couple of minutes to pull up the Perk tree for [Juggling].

As my eyes scanned the various options and their tantalising implications, a sly, self-satisfied grin carved its way across my face. 'Oh yeah, levelling [Juggling] is definitely back on the menu,' I thought, already conjuring an intricate web of strategies and build options for the future.

Skills in Neon Dragons functioned under a nuanced system: Every three Skill levels netted you a Perk point specific to that Skill’s Perk tree, and an additional Perk point was up for grabs every ten levels. On top of this, every second Character Level offered a general Perk point that you could sink into any Skill’s Perk tree which you'd levelled up to at least Level 3.

The good news was that [Juggling], a Skill that hadn't been part of the original Neon Dragons lineup, still followed these established rules. The first Perks available were clearly gated, the digital text reading: "Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]".

The game usually presented players with a range of four Perks to start—a buffet of entry-level benefits to suit various playstyles. Some Perk trees were outliers, offering either three or a generous five options, but [Juggling] was squarely in the mainstream with four introductory Perks.

But the choices didn't end there.

Each Perk often acted as a gateway to specialised branches or higher-tier upgrades, adding layers of complexity. These subsequent options followed a tiered reveal system: Once you unlocked the prerequisite Perks, the immediate next tier became visible, but anything beyond that remained shrouded in mystery.

This structure made long-term planning a blend of educated guesswork and calculated leaps of faith.

It had been a subject of heated debate among the player community, dividing those who loved the intrigue from those who modded their games to see the whole Perk tree from square one. The decision had been justified as a way to promote replayability, nudging players to experiment with different build paths over multiple playthroughs.

But here's the kicker for me: Without the luxury of game mods or the option to reset my choices, this design feature transformed into a genuine conundrum. How could I plot a precise course through this labyrinth of Perks if I only had the foggiest idea of what lay beyond the next turn?

'Damn you, Miyazaki,' I mentally grumbled, directing my vexation at the lead designer of Neon Dragons. His game design quirks, often a blend of the eccentric and the sublime, were now testing my patience. This particular feature, which had initially seemed like a clever twist to me in my old life, was now proving to be an absolute pain in my ass.

‘There better not be a fucking poison-swamp waiting for me around here, or I swear to god…’ I continued to absent-mindedly lament the situation, as I looked over the Perk options once again.

[Ambidexterity] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]]

Unlock the true potential of both your hands! You gain the ability to wield and use weapons or tools with equal skill in either hand, eliminating any penalties for off-hand usage.

[Predict Trajectory] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]]

Become one with the laws of physics! You gain the ability to visualise the path of any thrown or falling object. This Perk also allows you to fine-tune your bodily movements to intercept and catch thrown or falling objects with greater ease.

[Ricochet] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]]

Master the art of calculated bounces! You gain the ability to ricochet any object you juggle or throw up to one additional time, without it breaking, shattering, or losing momentum, regardless of the object’s inherent properties.

[Part Of The Show] [Requirement: Level 3 [Juggling]]

Turn near-misses into awe-inspiring feats! You gain the ability to seamlessly catch a falling object within a certain radius around you that you've juggled or thrown into the air yourself, making it appear as if the moment was scripted and intentional.

As I mulled over the intricacies of the Perk options once more, I thought about an additional nuance that could significantly impact my strategic choices.

Several Perks appeared in the trees of multiple Skills, weaving a complex web of possible paths for my personal build development. For instance, Perks like [Ambidexterity] and [Ricochet] weren't exclusive to the [Juggling] Skill; they showed up in other trees as well, that I was already aware of.

This realisation presented both opportunities and dilemmas.

On one hand, it gave me the flexibility to acquire these Perks through other Skill trees, should I choose to specialise in those areas later. On the other, it added a layer of complexity to my decision-making process: Was it wiser to grab these Perks now, or to reserve them for potential acquisition through other Skills, thereby freeing up my precious [Juggling] Perk points for something more exclusive to that Skill?

Navigating this newly tangible world, where unknown Skills like [Juggling] could suddenly pop up and offer potentially game-changing Perks like [Ambidexterity], cranked up the complexity of my decision-making process even further.

I mean, who could've guessed that something as innocuous as juggling could be a literal game-changer in terms of Perks? It thrust me into a realm of uncertainty, where every choice felt both exhilarating and fraught with potential regret.

And let's not forget—this wasn't just a game anymore; this was my life.

In the end, it was becoming clear that the choices I made would have to be meticulously balanced against a trinity of core considerations.

First, I had to weigh the immediate utility of each Perk, assessing how quickly it could offer tangible benefits.

Second, I had to think about my long-term survival, prioritising Perks that would keep me alive and efficient in the harsh, unpredictable world of Neon Dragons.

Finally, I had to take stock of the unique offerings within the [Juggling] Skill tree, eyeing those exclusive Perks that couldn't be acquired elsewhere.

"Damn, talk about information overload," I sighed, my thoughts wrapping around the complexities like fingers around a Rubik's cube.

I shut down the G.E.M.A. interface with a mental flick—no use gnashing my teeth over decisions I couldn't even make yet. After all, I was still a grind-fest and a half away from unlocking my first Perk point.

But this little escapade had solidified one thing in my game plan: I needed to try my hand at every conceivable activity at least once. Who knew what other off-the-wall Skills like [Juggling] were lurking in the shadows, waiting to give me an edge?

Brushing aside these thoughts for the moment, I shifted my focus back to the immediate task.

I grabbed my trio of favourite sock-balls and resumed my juggling routine.

But within seconds, I realised how absurdly easy it had become. My upgraded Reflex attribute, paired with the skill download of Level 1 [Juggling], had turned me into a one-handed juggling savant, effortlessly keeping the balls aloft as if they were floating on air.

I was astounded by the stark transformation.

It was like upgrading from a flip phone to a smartphone; the capabilities had just exponentially shot up. 'Is this really the difference just one Level can make?' I marvelled internally, as I practically juggled circles around my previous, amateurish self. My old routine was now laughably trivial, a walk in the park compared to the performance I was now capable of.

Clearly, the time had come to elevate the stakes. If my aim was to grind both my Reflex attribute and my [Juggling] Skill, then I needed a new challenge. With a shrug, I grabbed a fourth and then even a fifth sock-ball, making the leap from amateur hour to the major leagues.

I commenced my second round of juggling-grind for the day, and almost immediately stumbled upon a cadence, a flow, that I had been blissfully unaware of prior to achieving Level 1 in [Juggling]. It was as if a symphony conductor had suddenly appeared in my mind, coordinating my hands and eyes in an intricate dance of airborne balls.

The rest of my morning disintegrated into a kaleidoscope of flying colours and perpetual motion. I was a one-woman circus, each toss and catch fine-tuning my Reflex attribute and bolstering my [Juggling] Skill.

Whenever fatigue threatened to interfere, I'd engage the Rest Function. It was like hitting a biological pause button, allowing me to recharge and resume my relentless pursuit of excellence.

When the third rest period rolled around, a solid nine or ten hours after I'd first opened my eyes to the dawn that very morning, I finally indulged myself in the stack of notifications I had allowed to accumulate.

Why spoil the magic by checking each alert one by one when I could bask in the avalanche of achievements all at once? It was akin to cashing in a heap of completed quests at a quest-hub, each turn-in a mini jackpot in its own right.

I couldn't suppress the grin that slashed across my face as I sifted through the compiled notifications.

There's a particular joy in the aggregate, in seeing the sum of your efforts laid out before you, a multi-faceted gem made all the more magnificent by its individual components. Needless to say, that moment was the high note, the crescendo, one might say, on an already exhilarating day.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 500xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 400xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 300xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 200xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 100xp.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 0xp.

[System]: Rest completed. Time rested: 04:00:00

[System]: 200 rested XP added to available Bonus XP.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for [Juggling] Skill. Available Bonus left: 100xp.

[System]: [Juggling] has reached Level 2.

[System]: 200xp (+100xp Bonus) gained for Reflex Attribute. Available Bonus left: 0xp.

[System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.

[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.

[System]: 100xp gained for [Juggling] Skill.

[System]: 100xp gained for Reflex Attribute.

The rate of my grind had decelerated considerably after depleting my reservoir of Bonus XP, but the payoff was undeniably worth it. Achieving that coveted second Level in [Juggling] had refined my dexterity further, enabling me to juggle a total of six sock-balls with fluid ease.

Now, you might think adding just one more ball to the mix would be a cinch, but let me tell you, once you crossed that four-ball threshold—two for each hand—the challenge spiked dramatically.

Introducing a third object into the rotation for either hand transformed the task into a high-stakes balancing act, a near-acrobatic feat that tested my coordination to its limits.

But the Level up offered more than just a numerical boost; it recalibrated my technique down to the subtlest of details once again.

Those minute flicks of my wrists, which I had once naively considered impeccable, were revised and optimised. It was as though the Skill Level had administered a direct injection of elite muscle memory into my system, instantly illuminating the breadth of my previous ignorance.

I couldn't help but marvel at my newfound mastery while also lamenting my prior ineptitude.

'Is this going to be a recurring theme?' I mused to myself. 'With each Skill Level I gain, will I look back and cringe at how pitifully unskilled I was before?'

Ah, the paradox of progress; the better you get, the worse you realise you were.

Not entirely drained of stamina, I was keen to capitalise on the improved energy efficiency that the 2nd Level in [Juggling] seemed to provide. The act of juggling had become slightly less taxing, allowing me to sustain my rhythm for a slightly longer period of time.

However, my ambitions of continuing the grind a bit longer were short-lived.

"Whoa, you can jugg—"

The sudden voice, erupting from the direction of the front door, sent a jolt of adrenaline through me that made me panic, hard.

Hey, they say owning up to your mistakes is the path to redemption, right?

In a knee-jerk reaction, I launched the sock-ball that was nearest to my right hand toward the intrusive voice, as if a flimsy piece of stuffed fabric could serve as my shield against an unexpected intruder.

The "intruder," it turns out, was none other than my own brother, Gabriel. In my hyper-focused state, I had completely overlooked the "Coming home" message he had sent through my cerebral interface. Mental memo: Check your messages more frequently.

Oh, and did I mention that in my moment of panic, I had instinctively activated an Ability from my [Blademaster] Trait? Yeah… I unleashed [Blademaster's Throw], catapulting the sock-ball at what felt like Mach 5 straight at Gabriel, who had just stepped through the door.

The tableau was almost comically surreal; all that was missing were a few sonic booms to round out my spectacular lapse in judgement.

Shockingly enough, my aim was true—I nailed him square between the eyes. Bullseye!

My fleeting sense of triumph crumbled instantly, replaced by a knot of dread as I caught sight of Gabriel's unmistakably irritated expression. There I was, seated amid a chaotic sprawl of sock-balls, like a general in the midst of a ludicrous battlefield.

I didn't even have the chance to skim through the notifications which had apparently been triggered by my ill-advised projectile attack; Gabriel was already advancing toward me.

"Wait, Wait! Hold on, Gabe! I haven't fully recov—"

Before I could muster any kind of excuse, I found myself ensnared in a bear hug so tight it lifted me clear out of my wheelchair. My legs dangled uselessly, resembling nothing so much as the limp strands of spaghetti that they were.

"Mmmghhgrbl hffrrnng," was my feeble attempt at articulating "it was an accident," my words stifled by the fabric of his slightly perspiration-dampened work attire.

"An accident, you say? Real smooth, throwing stuff at your own brother after I even gave you a heads-up that I was on my way, you stupid blank," Gabriel scolded, the edges of his feigned fury softening as he gently lowered me back into my wheelchair.

A slight pout crept onto my lips. "Okay, you've got me there. Sorry, Gabe. That really was my bad," I conceded, feeling a slight blush of embarrassment warm my cheeks. There was no skirting around it; this blunder was squarely on me.

"So, since when did you become a juggling maestro?" Gabriel questioned, clearly still bewildered by the unexpected spectacle he'd walked into.

I opened my mouth to answer, then caught myself. "How about a trade? I'll tell you if you go retrieve the sock-ball that rocketed out of our apartment," I proposed, mischief twinkling in my eyes.

He rolled his eyes but relented, stepping out for a moment. When he returned, triumphantly holding the sock-ball aloft like some kind of war trophy, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, you've held up your end of the bargain. The truth is, I learned to juggle today. Just today, that is," I confessed.

His eyes widened. "Today? You're fucking with me. You look like you've been doing it for years!"

I shook my head. "Honestly, it's not that difficult, or maybe it's just a freak Skill that I picked up accidentally?”

Yes, really. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, despite my best efforts.

I was not sorry for it, either.

"Well, whatever the case may be, I'm just happy to see you exercising, doing something energetic. And you seem really cheerful today, too, on top of that," he observed, his eyes softening with a hint of sibling affection.

Just then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Gabriel reached under his shirt and pulled out a leather holster. Unsnapping it open, he presented it to me—it was the combat knife he'd promised.

"Here, I didn't forget. It's not much, but it's better than a kitchen knife," Gabriel said, placing the combat knife in my hands. It had a certain rough-hewn charm; the craftsmanship was far from perfect, but its weight had a practical heft to it that spoke of utility over aesthetics.

"Wow, Gabe, this is... thank you. Honestly," I managed to say, real emotions bubbling up inside of me. It still felt strange to have someone care so deeply about me, even if it was just Sera’s brother.

The knife might have lacked refinement, but it was a sincere gift, one that would undoubtedly prove invaluable in the coming days and weeks, and that, combined, meant more than any level of craftsmanship at the moment…

[— Attribute Information: Reflex 2 — 800 / 2,000 XP —]

[The measure of a person’s quickness and dexterity. Determines the overall speed, accuracy and dexterity of a person. Couples with the Intuition Attribute to provide enhanced reaction speed as well.]