During the period when Vela was cutting down Yorinobu, the brutal chaos spreading across Watson, Westbrook, and City Center had reached its peak. Yet, many streets and alleys of Night City remained bustling—filled with neon lights, intoxication, and hedonistic indulgence. Just as always, this world on the brink of death continued to dance.
Near the ruins of the Konpeki Plaza, still burning like a torch, countless people saw a fiery meteor rise into the night sky from within the walls of the Arasaka Coastal Compound. It streaked across the reddened heavens like a wound from east to west, reaching the other side of the sea—flaring, eroding, and bursting apart in midair. The immense shadow at the horizon shattered and fell, dissolving into the city's blazing tears of blood.
Boom!
A cement wall exploded open. Behind a hole the size of a human head, an Arasaka soldier in EXO exoskeleton armor was torn in half.
Thin steam rose from the railgun's barrel. The armored climbing claws dug deep into the ground amid the rubble. David Martinez, his entire body coated in dust and grime, could see it clearly.
"Are those Commander Russell's men?"
He raised his hand, wiping the dust and half-dried blood and flesh from his goggles. Turning with a creak, he rasped to Kawakami Suneo and the few surviving team members beside him, his cracked lips moving under the [Oni 4-B Type] power armor.
"I hope so... cough cough..."
Even gravely wounded, Suneo hadn't forgotten to use his playful tone to ease the suffocating tension in the group.
His own power armor was filthy and heavily damaged—pocked with bullet holes, scorch marks, and deep scratches from countless collisions. Several armor joints were broken, and a steel rebar had pierced clean through his abdomen, soaking him in blood...
It spoke volumes about what David's team had endured to fight their way here.
"This SP escort mission's completely botched," one of the team members muttered hoarsely. "If something happens to Lord Arasaka..."
"Damare! (Shut up!)"
A loyal samurai—bloody and barely human—let out a savage growl. Lying motionless moments ago, he struggled to rise. "Yori... nobu's treachery... won't... succeed! I'll... cough..."
"Takemura-san..."
Ignoring Goro Takemura's awkward accent, David couldn't help feeling a pang of sorrow as he saw the man's twisted expression at the mention of Yorinobu.
As Saburo Arasaka's personal bodyguard, Takemura had once commanded Konpeki Plaza's defenses with proud authority. Now, he was little more than a broken ruin: betrayed, his master abducted, his comrades slaughtered, and he himself on the brink of death.
If not for Suneo's quick thinking—reminding David that "someone higher up has to take the blame when things go to hell"—they might never have dug Takemura's mangled body out from the rubble of the Tavernier Suite. Otherwise, he would have been buried alive along with the collapsing Konpeki Plaza.
As for the rest of Saburo's bodyguard unit—if any were still alive, they were likely charred beyond recognition by now.
David shook the ash from his thermal axe and glanced back at the ruins of Konpeki Plaza, burning red against the night sky.
It wasn't that he didn't want to save more people—there simply wasn't time. Had his squad not been composed of elite operatives resting from the front lines—and had they not equipped power armor in advance—they would've been wiped out by their own allies' ambush, never mind escaping the tower's detonation.
Then, without warning—tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
A rain of bullets poured down mercilessly once again.
Gunfire riddled the concrete walls with holes, leaving behind craters and scorch marks. Smart-tracking rounds and electrified tungsten spikes whistled through the air. One teammate was hit through the wall—grunting, blood spraying, armor shards scattering.
But before David could even respond, the assault abruptly stopped.
"Baka! You idiots! Who told you to cease fire?!"
"You dare talk back?!"
"That was a lie spread by that American bitch!"
David and Suneo exchanged glances, clearly hearing the furious argument from across the line. At that moment, the interference blocking their Security Protection Division's Channel 16 finally dropped, and an announcement came through:
[Security Division: The instigator of the rebellion, Yorinobu Arasaka, is dead. Repeat—Yorinobu is dead.]
Soon after, as the rebel coordination broke down, their connection to Arasaka's network was restored. All across the channels, delayed transmissions flooded in—
[Yorinobu is dead!]
That cold, magnetic female voice—David knew it well.
It was Vela.
His spirit surged.
They had won.
And immediately after came a flood of surrender calls echoing across the battlefield.
[This is Isobe Asaji, Lieutenant General of the ASDF 21st Division. Yorinobu Arasaka is dead. The coup is over. On behalf of Director Vela Adelheid Arasaka Russell, I hereby read the "Address to Officers and Soldiers." All units are to return to original positions. Past offenses will not be pursued...]
[This is Akisada Koda, Infantry Regiment Commander of the 23rd Division. Everyone—it's over. Cease combat operations and return to your original stations immediately...]
[This is Captain Teru Ando, 21st Division Infantry...]
...
"I'll go take a look."
With that, David cautiously adjusted his climbing claws and stepped out from the bunker buried beneath the collapsed ash of the tower.
Ahead, a group of Arasaka soldiers stood frozen in place, uncertain what to do.
Naturally, they had noticed the massive steel behemoth—the EXO-clad figure of David—moving. But, seeing his friendly IFF signal and receiving the ceasefire transmission on the open channel, though their rifles were raised, none of them fired.
What caught David's eye most was the group of junior officers at the center—arguing fiercely, some even coming to blows and drawing their guns on one another.
"Nonaka! Have you forgotten your oath?!"
"I haven't! But Lord Yorinobu is dead! We can't win! The divisional commander has surrendered—we've lost. Right now, we should be saving our soldiers' lives and reputation—"
"Excuses! You're just justifying your cowardice!"
At that moment, the broadcast cut in with the honeyed voices of certain surrendering officers urging capitulation: Those who persist in resistance are traitors. Officers or soldiers, all will be executed. Those who lay down arms will be spared—and even rewarded.
Moments later, several opportunistic sergeants made their choice.
In a sudden rush, they moved to disarm the still-defiant officers with lightning speed.
Those from the same unit—those who shared camaraderie—went easy, subduing them with grapples and joint locks.
Those from different units, who didn't know each other, were far rougher—snapping arms, kneeing ribs, smashing skulls with rifle butts. Some even drew blades, or fired outright.
The clash of weapons and gunfire echoed—clang, bang, thud—and soon it was over.
The man called Captain Nonaka stepped forward, lowering his head. He unfastened his katana and held it out to David.
"It's over." His voice was low, heavy with exhaustion.
David took the sword.
In that moment, he knew—the so-called May 20th Mutiny orchestrated by Yorinobu had entered its final phase: the garbage time of total suppression.
So many dead. So much money and material wasted. And in the end, everything ended simply because of the outcome of a few people's power struggle. They were just pawns—expendable collateral.
With a somber expression, David turned toward the ruins of Konpeki Plaza. Countless loyal comrades lay buried within, men who had fulfilled their duty to the end. He hadn't seen the other battle zones firsthand, but he could imagine—they must have been the same.
Was it right?
He didn't know.
He only knew that these were matters for people like Commander Vela—great figures whose reasons were always justified.
As for him, he was just another Arasaka soldier under Vela's command—someone whose honor rose and fell with hers.
...
Meanwhile—
In Japantown, between Westbrook and City Center, the Arasaka Rapid Response Division, faces dark with frustration, finally began advancing after receiving riot police reinforcements from the NCPD. Baton-wielding officers surged forward, breaking through fan blockades, arresting rock music fanatics who had blocked the streets, dismantling barricades, and clashing violently with the crowd.
At Charter Hill, the Arasaka Security Bureau's community forces, mobile platoons, Counter-Intelligence reinforcements, and freelance mercenaries were locked in chaotic firefights with Militech forces and Afterlife mercs—a chaotic mêlée of mixed factions.
In Watson, under a tangle of competing interests, the civil war between rebel units, garrisons, and wavering factions was drawing to its end.
Arasaka Coastal Port—warehouse district.
Before a shattered control console, Vela lowered the cracked [Shepard A-T] smartphone in her hand.
Crimson data flickered rapidly in her eyes.
"I underestimated you, Yorinobu. I'll accept your final bequest. If Myers really thought you were just a reckless gambler throwing it all away, then she deserves every loss she's about to suffer."