Vela left, carrying with her a sense of fulfillment and curiosity.
When the final thunderous roar of the ultra long-range cannon—firing its standard ammunition quota—fell silent, Manfredi, following orders, briefly cleaned the battlefield, gathered the wounded, and immediately led his troops northward in a tactical "retreat."
Not long after the St. Michael Knights withdrew, roughly thirteen miles east of Daugavpils, the siege battle there had already come to an end.
The E.U. Joint Forces' Minsk Front vanguard soon arrived at the devastated forest—no, to be precise, what once was a forest but now stood as a wasteland of ash and craters, the remnants of greenery burning fiercely. Thick black smoke coiled upward into the heavens.
"Putain!"
One of the first E.U. soldiers to disembark kicked at Alexander's mud-caked head, muttering, "What kind of grudge was this, to bomb them to hell like that…"
"Has the W-ZERO unit responded yet?" he asked.
"Not yet."
The reconnaissance soldier, burdened with a comms pack, shook his head as he continued hailing the unit.
"Report upward. Split into teams—one group expands the search perimeter, fire immediately if anything seems off. The rest, follow me. We're sweeping the field."
The lieutenant, poking his head out from the cockpit of a Hornet-type reconnaissance KMF, gritted his teeth as he looked across the scorched and broken land. "Find survivors."
Before long, as Daugavpils fell, more E.U. soldiers poured in.
"Wreckage of the St. Michael Knights' G-1 Command Carrier found—Wyvern Squadron completely annihilated?!"
That was the report the colonel received from the recon company commander.
In other words, the reason for Daugavpils' disorganized defense was because the Wyvern Squadron had destroyed their frontline command?
Given the gravity, the colonel immediately relayed the news upward.
"Report to General Nivelle."
By morning, Nivelle had arrived at the wreckage of the enemy's command carrier and the detonation site of the 'Sakura Stonebreaker' bomb. He stood solemnly before the half-melted Britannian ground command flagship.
Judging by the shattered remains of KMFs from both sides scattered along the route—broken limbs, destroyed long- and short-range weapons, fragments of [Alexander Type-02 Specialized Variant], and captain-class [Gloucester] units—it all silently testified to how fierce the battle had been.
"Though Wyvern Squadron achieved its primary objective, the price was total annihilation. Colonel Malcal is missing as well. Any further advance may be a trap. What are your orders, General?"
The operations officer stepped forward, his tone grave. "If we halt here, should we begin reconstructing the damaged city defenses?"
"No."
Nivelle shot him a deep look and said, "Paris already knows of our victory at Daugavpils. The news will soon be announced publicly. The Defense Committee of Forty needs this victory. We cannot stop now—and we must not retreat."
Such was the state of affairs. For the Minsk Front, only two paths remained.
The first: maintain the current line. Fight, but not too aggressively. Take Daugavpils if possible, but focus mainly on holding positions and supporting General Pétain's Ukrainian Front from the Belarusian sector.
Do less, make fewer mistakes. Do nothing, make none.
But that would not spare them from criticism from Paris and public opinion.
"Cowards, incompetent generals, war criminals who squandered their comrades' hard-won opportunities for survival…"—such titles would be forced upon them. Some might even be dismissed from command.
Thus, Nivelle's only true choice was the second path.
As General Smailas and the Defense Committee of Forty in Paris desired, they had to cooperate with the W-ZERO unit in launching an offensive—just as the late General Foch had once said: "Fulfill your duty; seek life within death."
The Britannian Empire's power continued to rise, while the E.U., though vast in resources, could not convert its potential into strength. If nothing changed, anyone with eyes could see the inevitable: Eastern Europe—and eventually the entire European Union—would be lost, pushed all the way back to Central Europe's doorstep.
...
After the crushing defeat at the Baltic Sea, maintaining control of the Eastern Front—and perhaps even launching a counteroffensive—required leveling the salient, cutting off the enemy's northern corps' retreat, securing the Warsaw supply line, and restoring confidence in the E.U.'s most steadfast defender: General Pétain, so that he could hold Ukraine.
Speaking of Pétain, Nivelle had to admit—the old general truly was a master of defense.
He often visited the front lines to listen to his soldiers' opinions, personally braving Britannia's artillery fire to share life and death with his troops. He had prestige, and he had the soldiers' hearts.
In contrast, Nivelle was better at offense. He had little patience for emotional camaraderie or fraternizing with the rank and file. He doubted he could hold Ukraine under the relentless assaults of the Southern Army Group led by the Fifth Knight of the Round, Moltke.
Still, should he commit to a full-scale offensive—or a limited, concentrated one?
If the assault failed, Daugavpils, which they had just captured, would have to be abandoned. Retreating to Minsk to garrison again would likely mean losing all of northeastern Belarus. To win first and then lose—such a reversal would deal a devastating blow to morale, perhaps even undermining the defense of Ukraine.
Advance or not—it was a difficult choice.
Since the capture of Daugavpils, they had fought two pursuit battles and two engagements, all victories. Everything had gone smoothly. The Britannian forces in the region truly seemed to have lost unified command.
Now, Nivelle faced a fleeting opportunity. Should he play it safe—or go all in?
All in?
...
The following evening, Vela returned to her loyal St. Petersburg and ascended the Grand Caesar Palace, gazing southwestward.
The die had been cast. Whether the E.U. would take the bait—whether they would go all in—was important, but not essential to her.
If the enemy refused to advance, it didn't matter. She had several contingency plans and backup strategies ready.
A first battle that also serves as the decisive one—a single fight to determine the war's outcome—was never her preferred approach. She disliked staking everything on one move without a "second."
When left with no other choice, she could gamble—but she always sought to avoid that situation. Having reserves—having leeway—was her pursuit.
When one has leeway, everything becomes about planning. Plans, plans, more plans—not that everything could be predicted, but at least most situations could be anticipated.
And in the world of [Code Geass], the resources and status Vela possessed provided her with a degree of leeway her counterparts in other worlds could never hope to match.
The collapse of the European Union Republics was only a matter of time—whether sooner or later, with greater or lesser casualties, and how much of it could be immediately absorbed and utilized. Would they inherit stable, rich lands, or scorched wastelands? A population of goodwill, apathy, or hatred?
Either way, the "buy-in chips" the E.U. had unknowingly paid were already in her pocket.
Rubbing her chin, Vela narrowed her eyes; within her deep indigo pupils, a crystalline blue gleam flickered.
In a realm beyond human perception, an invisible force expanded outward from her body in a spherical wave, quickly enveloping most of the Grand Caesar Palace.
"Even without linking or sharing emotions, using Leila's Geass purely as a means of mental detection and emotional reading is invaluable. No wonder it's the only blue Geass Fragment."
Within Vela's range of psychic perception, the entire palace unfolded vividly before her mind.
No need for eye contact, no limit on use—each emotional signature appeared in her consciousness like light points on a three-dimensional map: calm, excited, irritated… each one distinct.
Some belonged to humans; others, to birds and beasts.
Though she could sense the feelings of animals, she could not understand their language—only perceive their general emotions: joy, fear, sorrow, or anger.
An animal whisperer? Vela mused to herself, amused.
The sensation was truly extraordinary. After over a day of continuous experimentation, she now somewhat understood those who lost control of their Geass—those driven mad by their own unrestrained power.
If an ability like this could never be turned off—if it constantly broadcasted every emotion within range—it would indeed be unbearable.
Moreover, such excessive intrusion into others' hearts—seeing and hearing too much of humanity's darkness—could easily twist an immature mind. Those without solid values or life experience might become pessimistic, despairing, or even fall into extremism—turning into anti-social, anti-human, anti-life entities.
As for Vela—she might have moments of childish playfulness or adolescent flair, but she was never one of those naive, under-read, overthinking youths whose immaturity masqueraded as self-importance.
A gentleman judges by deeds, not thoughts; for if one judges hearts, none in this world are perfect.
Geass, to her, was merely the first step toward transcendence—a springboard for progress, a tool to help her realize her will more effectively.
For example, it served as an invaluable instrument for answering the most critical question: who was friend, and who was foe.
"Indeed. In business negotiations and legislative hearings, the Geass of [Shared Emotion] has proven rather useful."
It was Vela speaking—but not this world's Vela. The voice came from beyond, yet through herself.
Whoosh—
The evening wind from the Baltic Sea brushed through the observation garden of the Grand Caesar Palace, rustling the leaves of its sky garden and tugging gently at Vela's hair.
Her indigo eyes gleamed; ripples formed in her pupils as light danced within. Deep within her mind, eight pairs of identical yet subtly distinct eyes overlapped in mutual gaze.
"Even if what I possess here is a diluted version—a 'monkey copy'—the Geass' empathic assimilation power still exists, albeit weakened since leaving the collective subconscious domain of the [C's World]…"
It was a perspective unique to Vela.
"Still, when sitting at the same table with them, I can immediately sense their emotional fluctuations. It allowed me to gain the upper hand in yesterday's negotiations—judging which among them had truly resigned themselves to loyalty, and which merely feigned obedience while scheming behind my back."
The scene shifted—to a wide office of polished black marble with gold veins, walls adorned with the MILITECH insignia: a metallic V-shaped logo within a square frame. Behind the desk sat a cold, beautiful woman, marked by two decorative golden neural grooves descending symmetrically from her temples.
Her identity was unmistakable.
From [Resident Evil]: the ruler of the San Francisco Bay Area, the "Grand Duke" of California, Chairwoman and CEO of Militech—Lady Vela herself—spoke calmly: "Still, it's limited to that."
"Mhm. For now."
While flipping through files at her desk, the Militech CEO asked, "What about you all?"
She already knew the answer, of course—shared through resonance—but asked out of habit.
"The same as you. After obtaining Geass, I tested it during the investment summit following New Baghdad's reconstruction."
From [Call of Duty]: a shareholder of Atlas Military Industries, Director of R&D, and Board Member Candidate—the construction overseer of the New Baghdad Headquarters—Vela added,
"Perhaps because our Geass was born using us as new anchor points for [C's World], its effectiveness seems directly proportional to the emotional or physical proximity of our targets. The Geass ruins might hold a way to expand or stabilize that connection."
Vela nodded thoughtfully.
Having only recently acquired their powers, none of them were in a rush. Time was needed for observation and experimentation—to gauge fluctuations in power strength and to consider how to amplify their Geass in worlds where no [C's World] augmentation existed. Or perhaps, how to build and connect new collective subconscious networks of their own.
"In my case," said another, "it helps me judge whether the lawful ghouls are lying—or truly repenting."
From [Tokyo Ghoul]: Special Class Investigator and CCG Chairman—Commissioner Vela—spoke thoughtfully within the dim Quinque workshop, the closed black-gold vault humming softly behind her. "I tested the Geass' assimilation and infection properties. By beating a starving Rank-B ghoul nearly to death, then engaging in close contact, I observed potential signs of infection."
"Uh…"
Vela fell silent, having witnessed that same scene through their shared link—the brutal experiments her counterpart had performed on captured ghouls.
"How about animal testing results?" she asked.
"Even at close range, it's mostly ineffective against fully mature dinosaurs. I can't fully comprehend their language. They have brains, yes—but their emotions are either too violent or their physiology too evolved to interpret."
From [Jurassic Park + Jurassic World]: Vela, the genetic scientist of Masrani Global Corporation's R&D division—the mastermind behind the Jurassic Park Project—stood before a row of hybrid dinosaur embryos, suspended in glowing incubation tanks.
She spoke softly, "So, I abandoned the old approach. I've decided to focus on newborn dinosaurs instead. Perhaps through Geass' psychic influence, I can make them more attached to me as they grow. Subtle conditioning takes time and patience to observe."
From [Ghost in the Shell]: Vela—the foreign operative assigned to Japan's Public Security Section 9 under the German CSG9 Border Defense Brigade—continued: "In interrogation and lie detection, enclosed and narrow spaces yield better results."
"Perfect for military, police, and intelligence work."
That was her professional conclusion.
From [Fallout]—Vela said nothing.
Cold, silent, unmoving.
Finally—
"Ahem. Also quite useful in casinos."
From [Jormungand + Black Lagoon]: The most relaxed and free-spirited of them all, Vela leaned back lazily and smirked. "Call me the God of Gambling."
It felt good—refreshing even.
And it amused the rest of them as well.
Sensing a source of emotion approaching—filled with awe and anticipation—Vela spoke without turning her head. "What is it?"
Tap, tap.
A combat staff officer from the Mechanized Intelligence Bureau saluted sharply and reported, "Your Highness, the enemy's Minsk Front Army is advancing north."
"What's their pace?"
"Fast, but cautious. General Nivelle has left reserve forces to rebuild Daugavpils' defenses. Under air cover, he's constructing multiple temporary forward airfields. According to intelligence from the Imperial External Affairs Bureau, he's been requesting reinforcements from Paris and Warsaw."
"Nivelle… that name makes me think of a reckless offensive."
Disabling her Geass and turning around, Vela smiled. "We should make him move faster—helplessly faster."
"Discreetly release an obituary stating that Lord Manfredi is 'critically wounded.' Order 'Project Pal-11'—it's time for him to prove his loyalty to the Empire. His operation within the Hammel Squadron may begin."
Her tone was calm, methodical.
"Notify Alexei—partially lift the encirclement around Riga. I've instructed the remaining forces of the St. Michael Knights to move toward his position. Also, tell our friends in Paris that I'll remember their friendship."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
After a salute, the staff officer withdrew respectfully.
At that moment—
—Hm?
That fluttering, heart-pounding emotional signature…
"Oh, she's here?"
Vela looked toward the entrance of the sky garden.
"Um… Miss Nonette, will my sister be upset about me coming here?"
"How could she be? You're her sister, after all. And please—call me big sis. I've some ties to Cornelia, you know. Since that woman couldn't bring herself to discipline you, she threw you to Vela. Russia's vast—it'll be good for your growth and sightseeing."
The first voice was soft and sweet; the second, bold and hearty.
Nonette had brought Euphemia back.
Indeed, Vela had subtly used the news of Euphemia's visit to the European Britannian territories—letting the world assume she'd traveled west to Siberia to fetch her younger sister.
"Euphy."
Hearing that firm yet gentle voice, Euphemia peeked into the grand sky garden—larger even than the courtyard of Area 11's Governor's Palace. She froze briefly, then spotted her sister and waved cheerfully. "Ah! Royal Sister, I'm here!"
"So lively."
The crimson sunset bathed the white marble towers of the Grand Caesar Palace. Vela smiled faintly as she descended the stargazing pavilion's steps, reaching out to gently ruffle Euphemia's silky pink hair. At the same time, her thoughts stretched beyond the world—
Vela: "Sister, done already? Nina Einstein's arrived in European Britannia. The [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb—and the F.L.E.I.J.A. annihilation warhead—should soon yield results."
Beyond the heavens—
From [Cyberpunk], Tokyo—Arasaka Tower.
Having just finished chairing a 2077 military policy pre-session, Vela carried a cup of tea to the tower's central lounge. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, she leisurely admired the sprawling skyline of Tokyo—majestic and beastlike in its electric glory.
"Good work. Oh, judging by your strategy, you're planning to force Pétain's hand? Very well—I'll see about supplying infiltration gear and the latest net-virus prototype… So, Leila's Geass aptitude is confirmed, and you're entrusting her to the Geass Order…"
"Akito Hyuga and Suzaku Kururugi—sending the brainwashed Hyuga back to Area 11? What a perverse sense of humor…"
A bright, playful smile curved her cherry-pink lips as she spoke. Beneath her left eye, a faint shimmer of crystalline blue flickered. On the reflection of the curved glass, the sigil of a soaring bird flashed—its wings quivering, as though yearning to take flight beyond the veil of worlds.
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven