An indescribable feeling welled up in her heart.
Unseen, unnoticed, mind and spirit stretched out invisible hands and embraced the entity known as [Vela].
Thoughts, words, mories, consciousness, and vibrant vitality instantly wrapped around Vela's perception, allowing her once more to touch the engravings her [Divine Gift] had left upon the unseen veil.
The long-accumulated spiritual sense revived anew.
eting again was smoother than the first encounter—Vela's heart was utterly calm.
She could not yet claim mastery, but she was no stranger. These engraved threads intertwined into streams, flowing clear and strong.
Changing, flowing.
As the separate yet resonating streams gathered, wove, coiled, and lightly bound together, she accepted those streams converging toward her—
In a haze, Vela saw before her a scroll woven of dazzling light and bursting colors.
A dynamic scroll.
Reality and illusion seed separated only by a thin veil. Countless scenes overlapped, divided, yet orderly. mories brushed across her mind like a warm breeze: intersecting thoughts.
The first.
Bright sunshine.
Seagulls soaring, their cries rising and falling with the sea breeze.
Beneath the endless azure sky stretched a vast resort and amphibious the park at the edge of rolling mountains and prival forest, spanning several square kiloters.
"Truly wonderful…"
I sat on the built-in semicircular stands of the seaside water park, looking out from above.
Leaving aside the resort's infrastructure, services, and security, the environnt alone deserved the title of a 5A-grade natural scenic site.
Everywhere were carefully cultivated plants.
Looking inland, towering trees rose from moist, soft earth of the prival forest. Ancient giant ferns and cycad gymnosperms, restored through modern genetic technology, intermingled with contemporary plantings, giving visitors the sensation of stepping into a new world—a magnificent prehistoric tropical world.
Looking outward, the vast ocean stretched endlessly.
At present, a marine science program was underway in the water park. The stands were packed with excited, chattering spectators, eager with anticipation.
"Research shows that the mosasaur hunts near the surface. Anything within reach of its teeth is prey—turtles, large fish, even small mosasaurs."
On the protruding platform extending over the deep-water pool, a friendly female host explained the program to the crowd.
As her words ended, she turned toward the wide pool clearly not ant for humans.
From the central cable pillar over the pool, splash—a three-ter-long great white shark was hoisted slowly into place.
"OK, everyone, let's see—after finishing today's al, is she still hungry?"
The host reminded cheerfully: "She's very shy, so rember to clap when she cos out…"
Before her voice had even faded—ROAR!!
With the bellow of a beast, a massive deep-sea predator surged from the waves, maw wide enough to swallow a hippopotamus whole. It clamped down on the shark's tail fin and tore it off. Splash! Water exploded skyward.
The mosasaur crashed back into the pool.
At once, the crowd erupted in cries of "Oh my God!"
"Genetic programming—a hybrid mosasaur."
With certainty, I drew back my gaze to the banner on the stand's rear wall: [Isla Nublar: Welco to Jurassic Park]. Smiling faintly, I turned to the suit-wearing HR beside : "I accept."
At that, HR rose joyfully, extending his hand. "Dr. Russell, welco to Masrani Global!"
...
The second.
The Far East, an island nation.
A great tropolis at dusk.
Light rain.
An Airbus from Berlin landed at the international airport. From my cabin seat, I gazed through the window at the gradually clearing outline of a coastal city—the new Japanese tropolis called Shin-Hama City.
The reclaid coastal lands lay shrouded in gray misty rain, while in the distance, skyscrapers lit the skyline bright.
After disembarking, under the guidance of a liaison, I confird my destination: the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Japan.
Along the way, I took in this land—strange yet familiar.
As with every city under a cyberpunk worldview, contradictions filled society everywhere. Towering, modern, high-tech buildings stood side by side with slum-like shacks. Many places looked bright and glamorous from afar, but up close revealed only decay and dilapidation.
Still, no matter how bad, it was far better than Night City.
The public security here would make even Charter Hill or North Oak residents of Night City envious.
Soon, we arrived. The vehicle pulled over.
Several n and won of differing styles seed to be waiting.
"You must be Major Russell of GSG 9, here for tactical and technical exchange?"
"That's ."
I produced my officer's credentials, embossed with the Iron Cross eagle emblem and embedded ID chip.
The short-haired, sharp-eyed woman who seed the leader scanned them, then nodded. "Public Security Section 9. Mobile Armored Riot Police. I'm Major Motoko Kusanagi."
Kusanagi wore a dark combat jacket, unzipped to the abdon, the firm curve beneath her white shirt rising and falling with her breath. Returning my ID, her handso, spirited face broke into a smile as she extended her hand.
"If I'm not mistaken, we'll be colleagues for so ti. Pleased to work with you, Major Russell."
"Vela."
I extended my hand and introduced myself: "Vela Adelheid Russell, 9th Border Guard Brigade, Federal Police Counter-Terror Unit (equivalent to Major), concurrently Director of the Special Dispatch Guidance and Technology Departnt."
"Co with . The Chief is waiting."
...
The third.
Consciousness plunged into endless darkness.
"…"
"…"
"Hm???"
This feeling…
Rigid, silent, stagnant, empty.
No thoughts. No sight, hearing, touch—no sensory feedback at all. Not even dreams.
Deep coma?
Sleep? Cryogenic suspension?
Or grievously wounded, hovering between life and death? Could it be that awakening [Divine Gift] forcibly tethered the life of that dying ''?
At that instant, as Vela pondered, one of the [Streams]—clearly resonant yet devoid of ripples—shuddered like a soul returning. From the abyss of stagnant darkness, a flicker of color rose.
Suddenly, effective real-ti mory surged in.
Hearing, vision…
"Peace, freedom, eggs and bacon—seems perfect. But… what if everything disappears?"
With a stirring voice, an abstract cartoon figure appeared.
A cartoon Caucasian male, blond hair in soft curls, wearing a blue-and-gold uniform, giving a thumbs-up as he chattered endlessly, promoting the purchase of anti-nuclear fallout shelter products.
"My friend, your future may not be as safe as you imagine. When the bombs drop, where will you be? You can reserve a place in the most advanced shelter built by Vault-Tec to protect your family's safety."
"That's right. Act now, and your loved ones can be spared the terror of nuclear catastrophe… Sign up today. Prepare for the future."
As synchronized mories continued to pour in, clarity flashed in Vela's eyes.
So that was it—a post-nuclear war wasteland world, where that self still slumbered within a cryo-pod.
...
The fourth.
Midwinter.
Silver-white world. Snow and ice. The earth and forests frozen lifeless under Slavic winter's deep chill.
A towering fortress rose upon permafrost.
Within, a sunlit courtyard, climate-controlled.
The air filled with the fragrance of blooming dianthus flowers.
A young imperial commander stood upon the terrace, hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the sky streaked with strange colors.
Along the audience avenue outside the hall, ranks of humanoid steel knights stood with spears and rifles in hand. The sound of orders changing the guard mixed with the pounding of heavy wheels grinding in perfect unison across the ground.
"Finally not an orphan… didn't kill my parents? Envy that I still have nearly a hundred blood siblings? Hah, what words, what words. Aside from my mother and a few 'plastic' sisters with whom relations are tolerable, the rest… well, I'd be lucky if they're not hoping I stumble and die on the Eastern European battlefield. As for that father—hm, at least on the surface, our dealings are fine… after all, I must especially thank him for leaving a legitimate heir's identity."
Silent self-talk.
I turned, gazing toward the flag unfurled upon the wall at the far end of the sunlit chamber.
A blue field, red cross, and at the center, an emblem surrounded by green leaves and ribbon—an eagle-lion and a serpent, both bowed in submission, protecting a crown.
It declared the political order under this banner.
[Holy Britannian Empire]
As the clock struck 6 p.m., the chis of the Christian chapel outside were joined by a crisp knock upon the door.
Knock, knock, knock—
"Enter."
"Your Highness, Third Princess. Grand Duke of Velaines and the Four Knights of Order Captains have arrived. The Supre War Council between Euro Britannia and the E.U. awaits only your presence to begin."
...
[Resident Evil]
In what seed an instant, yet perhaps ages later—
At the top floor office of Militech Tower, CEO Vela gently set down the unopened, bloodless SSS-class [Owl] once wielded by Kishou Arima. Her drifting thoughts pulled back, clarity returned.
"Ninefold, hm."
She clenched her fist, feeling vitality flooding every limb and bone. Vela smiled faintly, her indigo eyes shimring with a deep, prismatic glow.
"International Genetic Technologies and Masrani Global… Germany, breaking the Cold War's shackles to reclaim sovereignty and strive anew… Vault-Tec… the Britannian royal family… Truly, such varied stances."
—
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