The ride to the financial district was like sliding through social strata, each block another rung up the economic ladder. Within Damian's truck they left the residential spires behind, the engine growling through streets where money moved in whispers. Ghost-quiet vehicles glided past, their occupants sealed behind privacy glass that turned black at the first sign of unwanted attention.

  Damian had ripped the muffler off years ago, said it was his personal middle-finger to the noise ordinances. Each rev bounced off the steel and glass towers like shots fired in a war nobody else remembered fighting. The truck burned fossil fuels in a world that had moved on to cleaner addictions.

  Aurora Table looked like someone had carved a restaurant from a single massive quartz crystal and taught it to glow from the inside. The light wasn't just for show—it was weaponized wellness, engineered photons designed to hack your serotonin receptors and make you happy enough to pay their prices. The kind of place where the menu didn't list costs because if you had to ask, your credit wasn't good enough.

  Damian's truck sat among the hover-limos like a fist at a wine tasting. Rust-stained grille, oversized tires that actually touched pavement. Real friction in a frictionless world.

  "Uh… sir, are you lost?" The valet's voice dripped corporate condescension, his uniform so perfect it probably self-cleaned. Name tag said 'Thomas,' but the micro-delay before his lips synced meant he was running translation software. Probably wasn't even speaking English.

  "Nope," Damian said, killing the roaring engine and letting the sudden silence hang in the air. The absence of noise was aggressive, like a dropped gauntlet.

  "We have a reservation," Cole continued, stepping forward. "Under Lia Williams."

  The valet's eyes flashed for a moment, a flicker of blue light as his optical implants cross-referenced the name with the restaurant's secure network. Cole saw the exact moment the search results came back. Thomas's pupils dilated, his stance shifted from dismissive to defensive, and his hand moved unconsciously toward what was probably a panic button in his pocket. Any prior condescension evaporated into pure terror.

  "Ah, yes. My apologies, Mr. Walker and his companions. Right this way." His voice had changed too, the translation implant switching to a more formal register, adding honorifics Cole was pretty sure didn't exist in English.

  Damian tossed the valet the keys, who caught them with a fumbling motion, staring at the beat-up vehicle as if he was debating on parking the truck or driving it to a scrapyard for it to be compacted into a cube.

  "Don't even think about it," Jess's tone was sweet poison, her knuckles cracking like small caliber rounds being chambered. "That truck's worth more to him than your annual salary."

  Thomas nodded rapid-fire, clutching the keys like they were wired to blow.

  Walking through the restaurant's grand entrance was like stepping into another reality tunnel. They moved through an ocean of quiet elegance, bodies wrapped in muted fabrics, their cybernetics subtle and seamlessly integrated. The dining room's acoustics swallowed sound like a black hole, reducing conversations to a gentle murmur.

  Air smelled like real flowers—gene-modified roses that bloomed eternal, mixed with actual wood smoke from a kitchen that still remembered fire.

  Cole's crew crashed through it all like a glitch in the matrix. He'd gone simple—white button-up with sleeves rolled to hide the still-healing Zeta node marks, thin red tie, black pants, black waistcoat. Jess wore a blood-red dress cutting mid-thigh, contrasting hard against her magenta hair, black boots climbing past the knee with steel toes that announced themselves on marble. Damian had chosen a deep green V-neck that showed off his chest circuitry, the patterns shifting with his pulse, black synth-leather pants, and a trench coat lined with signal-blocking fabric. Old habits from his hacking days.

  They found Vertex at a private booth overlooking the city's glittering nervous system. One-way smart glass—perfect voyeur setup for watching the financial district's power players dance their careful steps below.

  "Holy shit," Jess's voice cut across the dining room's engineered quiet. "You all clean up nice."

  Lucius grinned, standing to greet them. "You should see us dirty. Way more interesting." He pulled out chairs for the newcomers with exaggerated gallantry. "The prodigal rookie returns! And he brought the B-team!"

  "B-team?" Damian scoffed, settling into his seat. "I've forgotten more about corporate espionage than you'll ever know, sparkles."

  "Children," Lia's tone carried gentle warning, though a faint smile played on her lips. "We’re in public. The cutlery costs more than my first rifle. Try to pretend we’re civilized."

  A waitress materialized beside them shimmering into focus from a ripple of light, her chameleonic implants letting her blend with the surroundings until needed. "Good evening. I’m Alexis, and I’ll be curating your experience tonight. Shall we begin with aperitifs?"

  "Real alcohol," Lucius leaned back in his chair. "None of that synthetic shit. Something that'll make your liver remember it was still made of meat and questionable life choices."

  "The 2087 Scotch, perhaps?" Alexis suggested. "Pre-war, from Scotland before it became the Glasgow Crater."

  "Perfect," Lia nodded. "For the table."

  As Alexis vanished again, Cole felt Senna's analyzing gaze. "Big improvement," she observed. "You're not telegraphing your moves as much. The new software is smoothing out the rough edges."

  "Is that how you say 'you look nice'?" Jess's amusement was obvious.

  Senna gave Jess a flat look. "No. That's how I say 'you're less likely to get killed.' It's a more important compliment."

  "Fair enough," Cole laughed. "Though I gotta say, wearing actual clothes instead of blood-soaked tactical gear is a nice change."

  "Your last shirt had three holes in it," Senna pointed out. "And that was before the spear."

  "Those were speed holes. Made me more aerodynamic."

  "Shirts don't gain functionality from bullet holes."

  "You don't know that. I could've been revolutionary in my hole-based fashion choices." Cole gestured at his current shirt. A small piece of his reflection caught in Senna's eye, showing him from her perspective—his shirt was actually pretty nice.

  Senna's tattoos flickered in what might've been amusement. "The only thing revolutionary was how fast you bled through them."

  Lucius let out a short laugh. "Ouch. That's high praise, coming from our quartermaster. You should feel honored, Cole."

  "I'll add it to my list of achievements," Cole tone was dry. "'Received a backhanded compliment from Senna. Survived.'"

  "Wasn't backhanded," Senna leaned slightly forward. "Backhanded would be saying you're pretty good for someone who walked straight into a spear."

  "Hey, I saved everyone," Cole protested.

  "After missing the most obvious trap I've ever seen," Senna countered, though she was almost smiling. "Your tactics were shit, but your recovery was... decent."

  "Decent? I took a light-spear to the chest!"

  "Which you wouldn't have needed to do if you'd noticed that Lumina asshole winding up for like three whole seconds." She took a sip of her drink. "Though I'll admit, the way you moved after taking the hit? Kept fighting? That was something."

  Cole blinked, caught off guard. "You almost sound impressed.”

  "I'm satisfied you're not wasting the gear I gave you," Senna corrected. "Spent six hours customizing that tactical kit. Be annoying if you died before I got proper field data on it."

  The drinks arrived, deep amber liquid in crystal glasses. Cole took a sip and nearly coughed. It burned, but not like the synthetic stuff. This was complex, layered, with a smoky aftertaste that reminded him of better times that never existed.

  "Your new kidney's working overtime," Senna observed, seeing him struggle with the scotch. "Processing too fast. You're gonna feel this in waves instead of smooth."

  "You can tell that just by looking at me?"

  "Your left hand's doing that thing where it grips the table for balance. Dead giveaway." She pulled out something that looked like a fancy pen. "Hold still."

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Before Cole could protest, she pressed it against his neck. Cold spread through his blood like ice water.

  "The hell was that?"

  "Something to even you out. Now you can get drunk like a normal person instead of in weird spurts."

  "Thanks... I think?"

  "You're welcome. Can't have the person who saved my friends passing out. Makes me look bad."

  "So," Lia raised her glass, the light catching the sapphires on her choker. "To Cole. Who was stupid enough to take a Lucent spear through the chest to save our asses."

  "To Cole," the others echoed.

  "Just trying to earn my keep," Cole felt heat rising to his face.

  "You earned more than that," Lia’s eyes held his. "You earned a permanent spot, if you want it."

  The table went quiet. The soft, ambient music of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Even Damian and Jess understood the weight of that offer. This wasn't just a job; it was an acceptance, a key to a family forged in blood and chrome.

  "I…" Cole started, then stopped. He thought of his empty hab-unit, of the feeling of being just another solo merc one bad job away from zero. "Yes. Of course."

  "Good," Lucius broke the tension with a loud clap of his hands. "Because I already put you down as a reference on my new apartment application. Needed someone who looked responsible."

  "I've known you less than a week!"

  "Exactly! You don't know all my bad habits yet. Perfect reference."

  The conversation flowed easier after that. Alexis returned with menus that showed each dish as a three-dimensional hologram complete with scent samples.

  "The hell is 'deconstructed reality foam'?" Damian poked at a holographic sphere that dissolved into fractals.

  "Get the wagyu," Senna kept her eyes on the menu. "It's the only thing on the menu actually worth the price tag."

  Alexis materialized beside them, clearly having heard this. "The deconstructed reality foam is quite popular—"

  "It's pretentious air," Senna still didn’t look up.

  Alexis's holographic smile didn't waver, but her eye twitched slightly. "I'll... put in an order for wagyu."

  "Oh, an expert, are we?" Cole smiled.

  "I've been here once before, for a corporate meet-and-greet. It was horribly boring, but the steak was incredible," Senna replied matter-of-factly.

  "Let me guess, they tried to poach you?"

  "Every corp tries to poach me. This one offered to double my rate and throw in a penthouse."

  "And you said no to a penthouse?"

  "Have you seen penthouses? They're all glass walls and white furniture." She shook her head. "Plus they wanted me to wear business casual. Can you imagine?"

  Cole tried to picture Senna in a blazer and failed. "The horror."

  "Right? I need pockets. Real pockets. For tools and spare parts."

  "Most people use pockets for keys and credit chips, Senna."

  "Most people are boring." She flagged down Alexis. "The corp wanted 'safety-compliant' augmentations."

  "And you said?"

  "I asked if they wanted soldiers or decorations."

  "Is that why Lucius sparks all the time?"

  "That's a feature," she said with pride. "Took me three weeks to get the aesthetic just right. He wanted more sparks but I had to draw the line when he asked for full lightning bolts."

  "Why?"

  "He'd electrocute himself every time he sneezed. Trust me, I ran the simulations."

  Cole laughed, genuinely delighted by the mental image. "And he was okay with that?"

  "He said it would be worth it. That's when I knew he was an idiot, but our kind of idiot."

  "Is that what I am too? Your kind of idiot?"

  "You jumped in front of a spear for people you'd known for two days," Senna said, meeting his eyes. "So yeah. Definitely our kind of idiot."

  "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

  "It is one. Normal people don't survive in our world. It takes a special kind of stupid mixed with just enough skill to not die." She raised her glass slightly. "Welcome to the club."

  "Do we get membership cards?"

  "You get scars and Lucius's terrible jokes. Same thing really."

  "Hey!" Lucius protested from across the table. "My jokes are excellent. Tell him the one about the cyborg and the…"

  "No," Senna and Cole said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.

  "See?" Senna said. "You're learning already."

  She then glanced around the table, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I’m also pretty good at reading people. If we're here for another hour, Lucius will have charmed the waitress into giving him free drinks, Jess will be looking for someone to arm wrestle, and Damian will be two seconds from trying to make the sound system play his favorite metal band."

  "Those are... pretty specific," Damian’s hand was already moving away from the interface port he'd been eyeing on the table.

  "Charmed is a strong word," Lucius looked offended. "Persuaded, maybe."

  As they ordered Cole found himself relaxing for the first time in days. These people, this moment, it felt real in a way his old life never had.

  "So what kind of music does this sister of yours band play?" Lucius asked, spinning his butter knife between his fingers with unnecessary flair.

  "Mostly dream metal, she is the lead singer and plays the guitar." Cole's voice softened slightly, the way it always did when talking about Alice.

  "Her notes are amazing, I swear she's secretly a Domain with how entranced it makes me." Damian added. "Last time I saw her play, I forgot to blink for like two minutes. My cheap optics nearly dried out."

  "Can't wait to see her again. So are you guys coming?" Jess chimed, already pulling up the mag-train schedule on her neural display.

  "Yeah, bags already packed, it will be nice to get out of the city." Lucius replied. "Storm City's got a different energy. More chaotic, less corporate. My kind of place."

  "Knowing you, we'll somehow end up being banned from the city, considering how many bars have your photo," Senna jabbed.

  "Oh come on, it's just six bars and the Starlight Casino. A serious overreaction, if you ask me."

  "You nearly burned down the casino during your celebratory dance after you won the jackpot," Senna shot back.

  "How was I supposed to know the furniture wasn't lightning resistant?"

  "Why would you even assume it was?" Senna asked, bewildered.

  "Speaking of which," Lia cut in, her tone shifting seamlessly from casual to business, "not to talk about work and take you away from family time, but I did find a job for us while we are there. Nothing like the Nexus gig. Some Sentinel Tech executive needs us to play babysitter for the night while he negotiates a deal with Void Forge labs. Pay is 60,000 credits for each of us."

  A mixture of relief and slight stress ran through Cole. He knew his life would only continue to get more expensive as he progressed and it would only be for a night.

  "As long as it isn’t the same night as my Sis’s concert. I’m in"

  "No, no, wouldn't do that to you." Lia leaned forward. "Night before. We will be in our beds come morning. Probably. The executive's paranoid enough that he's paying premium for Domain security, but not paranoid enough to actually tell us what threats he's expecting."

  "The fun kind of paranoid," Lucius grinned. "Where they jump at shadows but the shadows might actually be trying to kill us."

  “My favorite kind," Cole raised his glass. "The ones who pay extra for us to stand around looking menacing while they sweat through their expensive suits. Though with our luck, it'll turn into a firefight in the first five minutes."

  "Don't jinx it," Lia warned, though she was smiling.

  "60k for one night though?" Cole whistled. "That's more than I used to make in six months. I could actually pay off my sister's 'emergency loans' and still have credits left over."

  "Cole, you really going to work while visiting your sister?" Jess’s voice was laced with concern.

  "If she wants to bum another 500 credits off me whenever she needs help, I am sure she will understand," Cole chuckled. "Besides, she's used to it. Even before the Domain, I was always taking side jobs when I visited. She calls it my 'inability to relax syndrome.'"

  "It's a common condition," Senna said dryly. "I suffer from it myself. My last vacation ended with three dead assassins.”

  "Way to keep it light, Senna," Damian muttered, flagging down Alexis for another round.

  The dinner was winding down, plates being cleared by staff who moved like they were afraid to disturb the air. A comfortable scotch buzz had settled over the group, that warm static that made everything softer at the edges. But the Aurora Table was starting to feel like a velvet prison. The therapeutic lighting that had seemed pleasant at first now pressed down like someone else's prescription, engineered calm for people who'd paid to forget what real emotion felt like.

  "Alright," Damian finally said, pushing back from the table. He wobbled slightly—six scotches deep while everyone else nursed their fourth. "This has been fun, but I'm tired of whispering. My anarchist soul is dying in here. Need a place with louder music and cheaper drinks."

  "The Chrome Venom?" Lucius suggested, already on his feet. "Haven't been thrown out of there in at least two months."

  "That's because you were banned for three months," Lia reminded him.

  "Ban expired last week." He grinned like trouble with a fresh battery charge. "They probably miss me."

  As they gathered their things, Cole caught how the other patrons watched them leave. Some wearing that practiced disapproval like it came with their implants. Others with something hungrier—envy maybe, watching people who still knew how to burn instead of just simmer.

  They were too loud, too alive for this place.

  Alexis materialized one last time to present the bill. The number made Cole's eye twitch, 8,000 credits for the table. Lia paid without flinching, though Cole caught her forge-ports flaring slightly. Even she felt that sting.

  "Thank you for dining with Aurora Table," Alexis gave a bow that was probably practiced to the exact degree. "We hope…"

  "Yeah, yeah," Lucius cut her off, throwing an arm around Damian's shoulders. "We'll be back never. Your scotch was good, but your vibe is corpse-like."

  Alexis's smile never wavered, though Cole swore he saw relief in the woman's eyes.

  The drinks continued to flow as the group made its way from the financial district to the neon-soaked mid-tier bar called Chrome Venom.

  The Chrome Venom's entrance was a massive cobra head, its fangs dripping with acid that hissed and steamed as it hit the collection trays below. They had to duck to enter, passing through the mouth into darkness lit only by UV-reactive paint that made everyone's augmentations glow.

  "Now this," Damian shouted over the music, some kind of neo-industrial that was more percussion than melody, "is more like it!"

  Cole felt his Lucent Domain responding to the chaos of lights and reflections, his perception fragmenting pleasantly with the alcohol. For once, seeing endless versions of everything didn't feel like a curse.

  It felt like freedom.

  We Came Back As Monsters (Regression LitRPG With Slice of Life)

  We turned a world of chaos into one of peace, and humanity loved us for it. Then they destroyed us.

  monster.

  What to expect:

  - This is not a heroic story. It might look it at times, but it is not.

  - Numbers go up. LitRPG stats and stat boxes will not be present every chapter, but will appear when relevant to the story.

  - Deep fantasy world with ever-expanding lore.

  - Moments of intensity with slice of life mixed in.

  - Omniscient System that is limited to certain people in the world.

  - Weak to Strong MC, but never OP.

  - Daily chapter drops throughout December before switching to 3 chapters a week in January.