"Yorinobu Arasaka is dead!!"
At that moment, the clouds were dim, the moon shrouded, and the air thick with the stench of blood and unease.
At the breach of the shattered Arasaka coastal wall, a silver-white figure spread the wings of her anti-gravity and propulsion modules, soaring upward through the gray haze. In her right hand, the Black Abyss spear pointed diagonally downward; in her left, she held Yorinobu's severed head aloft. In the wreckage below, flames roared, machines clashed, and currents of light flickered chaotically—casting her long, divine-yet-demonic silhouette like an immortal tableau engraved in history.
"Restore order!"
"Banzai!"
"Hoo-Rah!!"
Waves of battle cries and shouts echoed. The suppressing Airborne Assault troops and nearby garrison forces not swayed by the rebellion witnessed their commanding officer's victorious return—the traitor slain. Their morale surged. Some poured suppressive fire on the rebels; others shouted offers of surrender or roared into battle with renewed fervor.
The mutinous ASDF's "Imperial Loyalist–Anti-Arasaka" faction soldiers instantly faltered. Using their Kiroshi military-grade cyber-eyes' high-magnification night vision, they saw clearly the head in Vela's hand.
The "Emperor" they revered—was gone!
Now what?
Would they now pledge loyalty to that rubber-stamp puppet imprisoned in the Tokyo Imperial Palace?
Or to those clownish marionettes performing at the Diet Building, 1-7-1 Nagatachō, Chiyoda?
Unfortunately, the shifting battlefield left no time for such reflection. Vela's slightly hoarse but clear voice reverberated through the harbor district's broadcast systems:
"I am Vela Adelheid Russell. To all units involved in this incident—hear my command! The traitor and ringleader Yorinobu Arasaka is dead. All remaining forces are to return to your original formations at once; those who comply shall not be held accountable. Any who continue to resist are rebels and will be executed without mercy. Your parents, your brothers and sisters—weep for you as traitors. Do not damn yourselves further."
"This order takes effect immediately. Execute at once."
Hearing the broadcast, the conscripted soldiers—many coerced by their commanding officers' deceit and manipulation—erupted in shocked murmurs.
We've gone from righteous patriots to mutineers? So much for those pre-battle promises of promotions and pay raises. The "red envelopes" and hazard bonuses they'd been given before the operation now seemed more like money earned without a chance to spend it.
The division commander, Isobe Asaji, his katana hanging at his waist, went pale.
He stared in disbelief at Yorinobu's severed head, his pupils trembling.
As one deeply involved in Yorinobu's conspiracy, he understood perfectly the core issue of this mutiny—Yorinobu was everything.
As long as Yorinobu lived, they had legitimacy. With Saburo incapacitated, Yorinobu's personal clearance and orders could not be revoked. Not even Vela or Michiko had the authority to override them.
For instance—the rebellion itself. In this cybernetic age, without a high-clearance figure backing them, a simple network access revocation command would have shut down nearly all of their middle- and lower-tier forces instantly.
The only reason they could still access the Arasaka corporate network—their linked devices remaining operational and not locked or wiped—was because Yorinobu had granted authorization, issued commands, and installed backdoors that allowed them to mobilize troops freely. Vela's authority couldn't yet overwrite his directives—
In short—they'd exploited a bug.
But now Yorinobu was dead, and Vela still lived. How long could that bug last?
Once Yorinobu's access codes were overridden, every one of them would be finished.
The realization made Isobe curse aloud.
"What the hell were you thinking, getting drunk on your own bravado? You, Yorinobu Arasaka—a pampered noble brat—sure, you've got intellect, but fighting Vela, a frontline killer, in close combat? That's suicide!"
He spat on the ground. "You probably never even slotted a proper military training chip! Using techniques learned from braindance geisha simulations to fight someone like her—what were you thinking? You thought injecting the fusion virus made you transcend humanity? You should've stalled her—anything but this! Even if you killed her, sure, the situation might've stabilized; if you delayed, things could've changed; if you ran, maybe you'd live—but no, you had to throw it all away..."
He froze mid-rant.
No—perhaps Yorinobu truly had no choice.
The regimental commanders nearby had also realized the gravity of their situation. Meeting Isobe's wide eyes, they saw reflected there the same terror: It's over. Everything's over. We're doomed.
But in a vast forest, there are always a few thick-headed birds.
"I won't surrender!"
A company captain, a white cross-band tied around his arm, turned to his comrades with a feral expression, roaring, "Are you cowards? What happens when that American bitch changes her mind—one order and we'll all be told to commit seppuku?!"
"If you don't have the guts, you shouldn't have joined in the first place!" someone shouted back.
"It's a lie! Kill her! We'll fight to the end and prove to the Empire that we were right!" another lieutenant howled, riling up the rest.
"Why hasn't the detonation gone off yet?!" a furious second lieutenant grabbed the dumbstruck tech officer by the collar, kicking over the military terminal he'd been operating. "Talk! Are you a spy?!"
In that instant, the entire spectrum of human folly—rage, fear, hysteria—unfolded before Vela's eyes.
Yes, this was the perfect time to weed out the rabble.
To strike swiftly and decisively—to stabilize the hearts of those who yielded to reason, to break the will of the wavering, and to terrify those who would gamble with death.
Whhhssh!
The long Black Abyss spear spun lightly in her hands, the crimson edge tracing arcs of blood-red light.
With a casual motion, she tossed Yorinobu's severed head to a cyber-ninja stationed by the wall—then turned sideways, and moved.
BOOM!
Black Abyss flew through the air, piercing layers of pressure waves before impaling a shouting officer in full exoskeleton armor—nailing him to the ground like an insect.
Thud! Vela dropped from the air, gripping her weapon. Using her falling momentum, she levered the spear upward, flinging the corpse with a violent swing—it smashed into a sergeant raising his rifle, knocking him sprawling. Vela's follow-up strike came crashing down in the same motion—a brutal overhead swing that struck the next target, a major-grade battalion commander.
KA-THOOM! The ground cracked open, concrete and gravel bursting outward in a shockwave.
The spearhead came down straight onto his skull—the man's head collapsed into his chest cavity, crushed beneath the weight of his AST combat armor. Brain and bone fragments splattered across his subordinates, who froze in horror.
"Do not damn yourselves."
Vela's voice resonated simultaneously through both open comm channels and the battlefield loudspeakers—a deep, magnetic tone carrying an edge of finality.
"I punish only those too stubborn to repent. Those coerced will not be held accountable."
Resistance halted.
The soldiers who had been about to retaliate froze mid-motion.
By the time they realized what had happened, a storm of metallic clashes and detonations had already filled the air—Vela's silver figure, emotionless and distant, was gliding away.
Moments later, the squad's most outspoken warrant officer—the man who loved to preach about "Imperial honor"—was ripped cleanly in half. His mutilated body hit the ground with a wet thud.
The surviving soldiers broke. Trembling, they lowered their heads, unable to meet the gaze of the silver-clad angel of death.
Eyes glowing faintly beneath her visor, Vela activated her Geass and walked forward through the blood-soaked ruin—a field of burning flesh, twisted metal, and the stench of death.
She moved like a reaper, calling out names unseen, claiming the souls of the defiant.
A slap—crack!—a skull shattered.
A burst of blue light—blood sprayed.
A flick of her spear—another head rolled.
"Tenno Heika—!" Some of the fanatical ones screamed the emperor's name, eyes wild, lunging in desperation.
It made no difference.
Crackle! Pop-pop-pop—!
When the sound finally died down, Vela stood amidst a mound of nearly a hundred mangled bodies. Her silver armor was scorched black and red, streaked with blood and ash. The heat, the smoke, and the smell formed a vision of pure dread.
"Commander Russell."
Lieutenant General Isobe Asaji of the 21st Division bowed deeply, his posture deferential, both hands offering up his gold-tasseled officer's sword.
Just then—WOOOOOOOONNN—!
The shrill blare of ship horns echoed from the port.
Beep-beep.
[Command HQ: Commander, the JA-23 floating transport convoy is approaching Night City. They're requesting connection to the city's network. We've contained news of Yorinobu's death and are stalling for time.]
[Vela: Good.]
Clink!
Vela tapped Isobe's shoulder insignia with the shaft of Black Abyss—a gesture of surrender accepted—then looked westward.
There, on the horizon, colossal gray rectangular silhouettes were emerging from the mist.
On their decks and hulls, tightly stacked containers of red, blue, and gray gleamed faintly under the dim sky—each one bearing Arasaka's corporate insignia.
Without question, this was one of Yorinobu's long-awaited backup plans—the floating transport fleet from Japan.
Vela could sense her soldiers' nerves tightening instantly.
In response, she simply smiled faintly.
Then—strike down one of those transport vessels, and bury once and for all the gamblers, opportunists, and dreamers who still dared to hope.
Thud.
Driving Black Abyss into the dock beneath her feet, Vela turned slightly to the right, shifting her stance—right foot sliding back, waist twisting, arm raising. Clack-clack!
The four conical floating modules behind her locked together along her right arm. Metallic parts shifted and interlocked—forming a Knightmare-class heavy hadro cannon, its muzzle marked by four pronged extensions.
Full-power mode.
Vela focused, aiming at the fleet's command vessel—precisely the one reported by Command HQ.
Vmmmmmm...
The [Warframe System]'s Sakuradite core fully converted its reserves, channeling all remaining energy. Auxiliary packs auto-fed into the charging cycle.
The crimson glow lit up the faces of soldiers nearby—some pale, some awestruck, some wary.
After several seconds of buildup—
BOOOOOOM!!
The ground beneath Vela split wide, the dock fracturing into a crater.
Ten meters away, the tassels of Isobe's katana fluttered in the backblast.
The air rippled violently. A dark-red beam carved through the dense clouds of smoke, slicing the sky. In a heartbeat, it crossed kilometers—like a meteor chasing the moon—and struck the underside of the floating freighter's stern.
Instantly, the crimson hadron beam spread across the steel hull like molten sunlight.
It sliced through the armored plating as easily as a hot knife through butter, burning straight through layer after layer of cargo containers, hull plating, and decks—piercing the power core before bursting out the other side.
With one shot, the freighter was nearly cleaved in two.
The metal along the beam's path glowed red-hot, warping and collapsing like melting cheese.
Then—
BOOOOOM—KRRRRAAAASH!!
Likely, the ship's military munitions had detonated under the extreme heat. Fire erupted skyward, fragments scattering as the massive vessel listed violently. Containers tumbled off its deck, secondary explosions followed, and the entire floating freighter came crashing down into the sea. Flames roared, and as the wreck sank beneath the waves, another explosion erupted beneath the surface.
The dark waters reflected an orange-red glow—like a rising dawn.
"Haah..." Exhaling slowly, Vela lowered the cannon. The Warframe's silver armor dimmed slightly; wisps of smoke coiled from the hadro cannon's vents, mingling with the heat and dust rising around her.
"Tell them—Yorinobu Arasaka is dead. His head is here. Surrender, or die."
The orange glow of transmission data flickered in her eyes as she issued the order without turning back.
[Command HQ: Acknowledged.]
Only then did Vela turn around.
Gulp...
No one knew who dropped their weapon first, but clang!—the sound of metal hitting the ground spread rapidly, one after another, until it became a chorus.
The last shreds of courage among the rebel officers evaporated.
Under the groaning hiss of exosuits and servo-frames, the rebels surrendered en masse—discarding weapons, kneeling, collapsing, some trembling, some sighing in defeat.
Clack, clack.
Disengaging the hadro cannon, Vela reached out to take the officer's sword from Isobe's hands. "Control your men. If you want redemption—start convincing the others to surrender. They're all Arasaka soldiers. It would be a waste to lose them over something this stupid."
"Yes, ma'am." Isobe bowed deeply.
"Contain and reorganize on-site. Return to your original stations at dawn."
With that, she gave instructions to the Airborne Assault Division commander.
Tap... tap...
Walking across the shattered dockyard, Vela finally arrived before the warehouse that stored Sakuradite. Because both sides had avoided the area during the fighting, the building had suffered minimal damage.
"What's the status of the Sakuradite depot?" she asked.
A cyber-ninja crouched beside the headless corpse of a second lieutenant, inspecting the explosive remnants, nodded. "Secure, Commander—but three vials of liquid Sakuradite are missing. Militech's men took them."
"Militech..." Vela murmured. "Not surprising."
As she pulled up a holo-interface, she began calmly issuing total pacification orders to every Arasaka division across Night City—and, almost as an afterthought, pressured City Hall to declare its allegiance immediately.
A moment later, Command HQ reported back: the remaining vessels of the JA-23 floating transport convoy had accepted the surrender order.
Nodding slightly, Vela walked slowly, her mind already turning to Militech's underhanded tactics—when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something near the warehouse gate: the shattered remains of a control terminal riddled with stray gunfire.
Among the debris, a glint of glass caught her attention.
"A phone?"
Stepping closer, she crouched and picked up a cracked, high-end [Shepard A-T] custom smartphone.
Vela raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, she remembered Yorinobu's final words.
Mo... bile... phone...
What had he left behind here? What was recorded inside? Was it meant for her?
Suspicion tugging at her thoughts, Vela scanned it multiple times before requesting a secure relay from her lead netrunner. Only then did she connect.