Hah!
Shhhraaa!
The silver-armored figure streaked down like a comet, glowing bright as lightning, crashing hard into the concrete perimeter wall of the Watson coastline already shrouded in dust and falling rubble.
The thick, reinforced wall exploded on impact.
Motion sensors, electrified fan-blades, automated gun turrets—countless security devices shattered and scattered outward like a storm of metallic debris.
Through the roiling smoke, two figures—one blood-red, one silver-white, one tall, one short—shot from the blast, skidding across the broken pavement.
Crackle-crash!
The tip of Black Abyss pierced deep into Yorinobu's muscled abdomen, driving through layers of Kagune armor, grayish chitin, hardened skin, reinforced muscle, overgrown bone, and even metal, punching through his back and three inches into the ground beneath.
Vela laughed with unrestrained exhilaration, her right hand gripping the spear's haft while her left guided her tail-like Bikaku in the shape of a piercing lance. Behind her, the four vector thrusters of her propulsion pack flared, dragging Yorinobu and slamming him backward through the old industrial ruins north of Watson City.
Derelict buildings crumbled under the impact. Decayed warehouses shattered like paper walls. Street murals and weathered graffiti-coated walls caved in one by one.
Only when the flame trails of her thrusters faded did Vela pull her weapon free. Pivoting on her heel, she spun lightly, her armored leg crashing into Yorinobu's chest, sending his grotesque body hurtling away.
Huff!
Spinning her weapon and lowering it, she exhaled sharply, flicking blood from Black Abyss in a crimson half-arc across the ground.
"You've lost, Uncle. Your little show has gone too far."
Eyes half-narrowed, Vela paced forward, the gunblade's crimson edge gleaming like a burning moon.
"Hhh... ha... Lost? A farce?" Yorinobu rasped between ragged breaths. "You call this a farce?"
Crack... crack...
His body swelled again, bursting through the graffiti-splattered concrete wall behind him. Chunks of rubble the size of small cars tore loose, dragged outward by the whip-like Kagune-fused limbs of his mutated body.
Vela sidestepped smoothly, tilting her head as if to say: What else would it be?
"Well then," she said lightly, "to think you went through all this trouble just to lure me here—how flattering."
"You noticed." His tone carried the weight of both question and confirmation.
Vela smirked. "Hard not to."
"Ha... ha..." Yorinobu chuckled darkly, wrenching his monstrous frame from the cracked wall. He spat out broken teeth mixed with writhing flesh and fragments of organs, grinning wide enough that his mouth split past his ears. "Your arrogance... even greater than Saburo's. I knew there was nothing left to say between us."
Then, suddenly—he said quietly, "You should have gone for the head."
Yorinobu stared at his niece with cold resolve. There was no fear. No regret.
Victory or defeat—he hardly cared anymore.
Winning would have been ideal. Losing was expected. But what mattered most was making Arasaka lose as well—a double loss.
Even if the Saburo he'd injected with the G-embryo was rescued, it no longer mattered. The old man was nothing more than a walking relic of his own empire.
All Yorinobu needed now was to stall Vela—to drain her energy, to use himself as bait, to buy time for others.
Once the Sakuradite bomb detonated... and Militech made its move...
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again. At this moment, Yorinobu's mind was crystal clear.
He could feel the transformation within his body.
That prior bloodthirsty madness—the sensation of being controlled by some other will—was gone.
The hunger remained, the pain intensified—far worse than before, as though something deep in his marrow was howling, devouring, spreading. Yet the hypercells surging through his veins pulsed even stronger.
Johnny... can you feel this?
There was no response.
Is it you helping me, Johnny? he wondered.
Then, all I can do is give it everything I've got.
In the next instant—he moved.
BOOM!
In a blur of motion, Yorinobu's legs bent low, the tattered thrusters of his unnamed [Oni-series] exoskeletal module flared alive one last time, emitting a dying machine's metallic wail as they erupted in a final, furious blast.
At the same time, Yorinobu's already torn shoulders split open again with a wet shrrrip—from within the gashes, clusters of murky eyeballs forced their way out through torn flesh, swelling, bursting, and igniting, erupting into streams of flame like a living flamethrower.
Ah... Ukaku.
And not just any Ukaku—but one deeply fused with the viral mutation.
Lowering her spearhead, Vela's tone carried amusement.
Dear uncle, you really do know how to surprise me. You're a walking treasure trove.
Begin data recording.
She murmured, summoning her auxiliary AI.
Unaware of Vela's intent, Yorinobu—his face hidden behind a cold metal mask—swung his arm back. Flesh writhed, bone spines protruded, Kagune tendrils coiled, forming a massive bludgeon of meat and steel. With the combined propulsion of his Ukaku jets and backpack thrusters, he crossed ten meters in a heartbeat, swinging the monstrous mace down with brutal force.
"Cut off the head? I will."
Using her floating turrets as cover, Vela's left hand slipped subtly into a shallow slot in her armor—one that appeared purely ornamental—and retrieved a small throwing device.
She advanced instead of retreating.
BOOM!
Spear and mace collided, shattering the ground beneath into a web of cracks.
Shhhhhh—clang! Thud! Bang!
"Pathetic," Yorinobu spat. "Vela, look at yourself. Where's the scientist now? You're nothing but a beast drunk on power."
"Heh. And what does that make you? A slave to freedom?"
"Freedom..." he laughed hoarsely. "I thought you'd say power. My dreams, my ideals... they're not as small as you think!"
"Is that so."
...
Between the clash of words and steel, metal struck flesh, sparks burst wildly—each impact echoing through the dark alleys of Watson's northern industrial district.
By now, the onlookers at the perimeter wall—bystanders eager for bloodshed, gang scum hoping to profit from the chaos, scavengers, and independent journalists hungry for sensational footage—finally realized what they were witnessing.
"Holy shit—what the hell was that that just blasted through!?"
A street vendor, sensing a business opportunity, cursed furiously. His skewer stand—set up to sell snacks to the bloodthirsty spectators—had just been demolished by falling debris. His stock of liquor, shattered.
In Night City, we don't fear death. We fear going broke.
"Goddamn Arasaka! You can hit my cumin powder better than Militech hits command HQ—"
Before he could finish, a monstrous roar split the air—
"VELAAAAA!!"
The inhuman scream thundered across the city, shaking windows, echoing for miles.
The vendor froze mid-word, neck shrinking back. He glanced toward the roaring source of the noise, then at the burning coastline, and hissed under his breath. "Shit... the scale of this Arasaka brawl's insane."
"Maybe... time to pack up."
...
The battle raged for one... two minutes.
"Hah... hah... it should be time."
Yorinobu panted, flinging droplets of burning blood as his body convulsed violently, every limb twitching.
His hardened Kagune armor was cracked, leaking a mix of plasma and slime—his condition was beyond recognition. The [Oni-series] exosuit's gravity-field module was destroyed; its jet system sputtered like a dying candle.
"Didn't expect this... Vela Adelheid Russell, known for her love of head-on combat, resorting to tricks—out of options, are you?"
He backed cautiously out of the cloud of white gas, his mocking voice trembling slightly. The faint glow on Vela's silver armor had dimmed.
Her energy shield, gravity field, and hadro cannon—all inactive. Running low on power, was she?
At that rate of energy drain, he thought grimly, not even the most advanced power core can hold out for long.
"..."
Vela paused, glancing down at the Rc gas suppressor grenade at her feet—and at her HUD overlay:
[T-G-118-09 Fusion-Virus Kagune: Resistance Evaluation vs Gaseous Rc Suppressant]
[Infected Subject Data Collection]
[Rebellion Suppression Operation Recording – Draft]
What do you think I'm doing?
"Hah... I'm waiting for the Sakuradite bomb. And you're waiting for—"
"Enough." Vela interrupted calmly. "Let's skip the pointless stalling."
"The Sakuradite bomb—my creation. Surely you didn't think I wouldn't account for it."
"You—" Yorinobu's voice snapped.
Right. Why hadn't it detonated yet?
It should have by now.
Damn it! He had already ordered his embedded agent in the coastal research facility to inspect it beforehand—the bomb was genuine, one hundred percent complete, fully armed. It should have gone off!
The inspection just days ago had confirmed—the Sakuradite bombs hadn't been tampered with.
Unless Vela had known about his betrayal long before... but that was impossible! During that time, he'd been completely devoted to Arasaka's grand strategy, deceiving even Saburo in Tokyo. How could Vela—stuck on the North American front, with an information delay—have known ahead of time?
"You—what did you do?!" Yorinobu roared, eyes bloodshot.
Vela didn't bother answering.
"You don't need to know."
Indeed, the batch of Sakuradite bombs stored in Warehouse A-7 were all genuine—activation keys alone could trigger them.
But Vela had added something extra.
Gefjun Disturber.
A relic from Code Geass—developed by the Black Knights of Area 11 to counter Sakuradite-based weapons. The device could disrupt the energy flow of Sakuradite systems.
Once upon a time, Princess Vela of that world had ordered Earl of Pudding—Lloyd Asplund—to research it, providing limitless resources. Progress had been slow, however, as Lloyd was overworked with countless concurrent projects.
But through a series of captured devices from small uprisings and local skirmishes, breakthroughs had been achieved—rumor had it that Cornelia herself had once taken a blow from one such incident.
And now, Vela had integrated that very interference system into the casing of these bombs.
To ensure no mishaps, she even replaced the detonators with Sakuradite-based triggers and secretly installed an interference array beneath Warehouse A-7 and its surroundings.
Normally dormant, the system could remain in standby mode for up to two months, activating only upon receiving a high-authority encrypted signal from Vela herself. Once triggered, the interference would last only about thirty minutes—but that was more than enough.
As for her supposed [Warframe System] energy shortage—
Ah, yes, it was indeed running low.
Then let's recharge.
Inside her perfectly fitted left gauntlet and arm plate, a recessed charging port within the living Quinque lining opened. Out of Yorinobu's sight, viscous, liquefied Sakuradite flowed through metallic tubing into her power module.
Vmmm—!
Glowing veins of light pulsed visibly along the armor's curves.
"This—this is impossible!!" Yorinobu screamed.
Whoosh—
A flaming wrecked car hurled toward her.
Vela didn't move. The purple-red energy veins glowing beneath her armor flared, and a polygonal honeycomb shield bloomed in front of her.
CLANG! The car crumpled against it, sparks showering several meters high before falling lifeless to the ground.
"You've lost."
Vela looked down at Yorinobu—his Kakuja mask contorted grotesquely, distorted by his own hysteria.
Within her left gauntlet, the spent Sakuradite and energy packs ejected one after another, instantly replaced by fresh ones.
Unfortunately, Vela's mastery of her Divine Gift was still rudimentary—the interface across worlds was limited to her forearms. She'd tried elsewhere... but it required too much focus, too much energy. Not worth it.
Hissss—
A few more CRC gas suppressor grenades hit the ground.
As Yorinobu reeled, his Kagune momentarily faltering under the suppressant, Vela raised her arm. The built-in [VARIS] on her gauntlet shifted from beam mode to hadro mode—the folded feather-like emitters spread open with a hum—
FWOOM!
The air itself rippled. A dark-red particle beam surged forward, vaporizing half of Yorinobu's regenerating body. His Kagune tore apart, flesh detonating, external cybernetics disintegrating.
Tiny chunks of bloodied meat splattered across the ruins in a wide arc, steaming.
"..."
Thrown backward, face grinding across the cracked concrete, Yorinobu's body burned with agony—his cells screaming in fire. He opened his mouth soundlessly.
He wanted to say that his loss didn't mean her victory—that he still had a final card to play. But now? What use was it?
He wasn't sure anymore.
"Oh?" Vela's gaze shifted. "The coastal airfield?"
Behind her visor, her indigo pupils narrowed, faint blue luminescence rippling outward.
Sensing the sharp fluctuation in Yorinobu's emotions, she sifted through the fragments of his chaotic thoughts, catching glimpses of one recurring image—an airfield at Arasaka's coastal zone. A floating cargo vessel.
So that's where it was.
She opened her comms.
[Vela: Command HQ, this is Vela. Cross-check incoming and outgoing floating transport convoys to Night City—today and tomorrow. Immediately.]
[Command HQ: Understood, ma'am. Please hold.]
Almost instant response.
As she issued orders, Vela advanced toward Yorinobu.
He struggled, firing a barrage of weakened Ukaku spikes.
All deflected.
Splatter!
Black Abyss pierced through the air with a whistling roar, impaling Yorinobu's last functioning limb—his right arm, the one that healed fastest. The blade tore through the flesh, pinning it deep into the cracked concrete beneath.
Yorinobu let out a muffled grunt.
"So... I still couldn't do it after all?"
The Kakuja mask shattered. Blood frothed at his lips as he forced a weak smile. "I tried everything... every way I could think of. Maybe I could've changed something... I didn't expect you to appear, Vela..."
"Cruel pleasures... always end in cruel ways."
He struggled to lift his ruined torso, staring at the silver figure walking toward him—his expression a mixture of pain, relief, and bitter understanding.
"Even if you succeed," Vela said quietly, "it changes nothing."
"So you do know," Yorinobu rasped, his face twisting into a grimace that was half a smile.
"I know a little," she replied.
A lie.
Just then, her comm window blinked open—
[Command HQ: Commander Vela, a convoy of floating transports will arrive in port in fifteen minutes. Registration shows departure from Tokyo.]
"So you were stalling," Vela murmured, lowering her gaze. "Still holding one last card in that convoy, aren't you? Don't worry... I'll make sure they're properly welcomed. Goodbye, Uncle."
"You even saw through that..." Yorinobu gave a hollow laugh.
Vela could see it clearly—there was no regret in his eyes. Only release.
"Naze? (Why?)" he suddenly asked.
"What do you mean?"
"With your ability... that so-called 'storm of fear' Saburo unleashed shouldn't mean anything to you. You knew what I was trying to do—you must understand what kind of darkness this unrestrained corporate world will bring upon humanity. So why? Why do you stand by and do nothing?"
Yorinobu's words came tumbling out, each breath heavier than the last. He coughed blood; his face spasmed with pain.
The hostility in his tone had faded—replaced by something else. Frustration. Desperation. His will to live was vanishing fast.
Vela assessed him coldly. He wouldn't survive much longer.
The body, ravaged as it was, struggled against itself—the regenerative properties of the G-virus forcing the body to heal while inflicting excruciating pain upon its host.
"I've read your files," Yorinobu rasped. "You're a textbook corporate hound. But tell me—deep down, are you really a complete bastard?"
Like a drowning man clinging to a final thread of hope, he pressed on.
"Look around us. Just a wall apart—heaven and hell."
"The penniless sleep in the open streets, their lives snuffed out at random."
"Children—seven, eight years old—grow up breathing toxins. A little older, and it's either a gun in their hands or a sweatshop chain around their necks. One mistake—and everything resets to zero."
"No order... no laws... no morality, no rules."
"Women sell themselves on the streets for a cigarette, while their husbands sit beside them, numb, counting the cash. This society is rotten."
"So?" Vela's eyes darkened. "What are you trying to say?"
"Human society is already fractured beyond repair," Yorinobu said. "Any leader with a shred of conscience shouldn't stand idly by. If it were you... what would you do?"
He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.
"At this point," Vela asked softly, "does it even matter?"
"Maybe not," he said, reopening them. "But I'm doing the only thing I can do. I just wanted to prove I existed—that my life meant something."
"You can call it flattery after failure... or the ramblings of a desperate fool."
"But if even a fragment of what I said moves you—then it wasn't all for nothing, was it?"
Blood streaked down the corner of his eye. Whether it was blood or tears, neither could tell. His gaze softened, lost in fading memories.
"In that case... our efforts—mine and theirs—won't have faded. I should've died long ago. Do it."
The desire for self-destruction was clear in his voice.
"..."
Vela was silent for a long moment.
Then, she gripped Black Abyss firmly and said, "Goodbye, Yorinobu."
Not "Uncle," not mockery—just a name. Stripped of the Arasaka title. Simple. Final.
Shing—!
The gun-spear sliced through the air, tracing a red arc of death. The motion was smooth, effortless.
The blade severed his neck cleanly.
The head rolled.
Even with the fusion-virus's monstrous vitality, death came slowly. He choked out, "M... Mother... I'm sorry... I couldn't... do anything... I'm... so tired..."
His breath faltered.
His pale, inhuman eyes rolled upward, staring blankly at Vela.
"Am I... a failure...?"
"No," she said quietly. "You're just an idealist... born in the wrong era."