[Cyberpunk]
"...Who is it that repeatedly tears up treaties? Who is it that cruelly starts wars? Who is it that launches despicable, shaless sneak attacks? It is Militech."
"Who shalessly blad us—the victims—after the nuclear explosion at the old Arasaka Tower headquarters in Night City in 2023? It is Militech."
"And now, who pleads for reconciliation, preaches peace, and urges us to look forward? It is Militech."
"Peace with Militech is not peace—it is rely a ceasefire."
"Recognize reality, abandon illusions, sharpen your blades, and prepare for war."
"Then watch as they get what they deserve."
...
Inside the grand, opulent conference chamber in the central atrium of Arasaka Tower, Tokyo, the company's national-level board mbers, faction representatives, and regional division heads of military and security operations sat around an oval table.
So were present in person, others attending through holographic projection.
After all, as an interplanetary gacorporation operating across Earth and the lunar colonies, Arasaka had made countless enemies—just like every other cyber-corporate giant.
Every executive here was a core leader or major figure in their respective regions. To avoid potential security breaches or espionage risks, it was rare for them to gather all in one place—most ca to headquarters only on rotational reporting assignnts.
The one who had just spoken was none other than the woman praised by the "Old Emperor" Saburo Arasaka himself as "Night City's brightest gem" and "Arasaka's rose"—Vela Adelheid Russell.
"The Pacific is vast," Vela's clear, resonant voice continued, "but it cannot hold two masters."
"Therefore, I believe—"
"Militech must be destroyed!"
Ending her speech with a serene smile, Vela turned her gaze toward the head of the table—where sat Saburo Arasaka, who appeared over seventy but was in fact one hundred fifty-seven years old, still sharp and vigorous.
She had rely voiced what he himself desired to say.
Compared to six months ago, the old emperor looked revitalized—rejuvenated after another round of specialized treatnt using the R-618 'Rebirth' Compound. Once frail and aging, he now seed like a man reborn, capable of another decade of power.
His complexion was healthier, the senile warts on his temples had diminished, the basal cell papillomas on his forehead had vanished, and even his hair—fuller and darker—rivaled that of his son, Yorinobu Arasaka.
"Truly perceptive words, Vela."
Saburo nodded lightly, clapping his hands with a satisfied smile.
His tone and deanor made his intentions clear: praise, and cultivation.
As he watched Vela—sitting a few seats down on the right side of the oval table, modestly positioning herself behind the elder board mbers and faction heads out of deference to her relative youth—Saburo found himself more and more pleased.
Her Arasaka-tailored executive suit emphasized a balance of power and grace: the sharp shoulder lines projected discipline and resolve, while the deep-toned trousers and subtle elegance conveyed poise. Her entire presence embodied confident restraint—dignified yet not arrogant, humble yet not submissive.
It perfectly embodied the ideals of his "new militarism," and—more importantly—could spur Yorinobu to greater effort.
As for ambition?
Ambition, within Arasaka, was never a sin.
Growth ca from dissatisfaction, from restlessness, from never being content.
What mattered was self-awareness—knowing one's place, one's limits, one's control—and never letting desire cloud judgnt.
And as for "outsiders"?
After losing his beloved wife and eldest son Kei, suffering defeat in the Fourth Corporate War, watching his biracial granddaughter Michiko grow distant from the family, and his youngest son Yorinobu rebel openly, Saburo's once rigid traditionalism had softened greatly.
He had even accepted a Black executive into the boardroom—so what reason would he have to reject soone like Vela, a prodigy of talent, versed in Eastern culture, and refined in manner according to the old aesthetic and moral codes he cherished?
Boundaries erode one step at a ti.
And then—Saburo found himself thinking—it truly was worth it.
At this mont, the world stood on the brink of monuntal upheaval.
The year was 2077—the dawn of a new era of conflict. Beneath the surface, the great corporations seethed and sched. Once war began, there would be no middle ground: the strong would survive, the weak would perish. Arasaka could not afford stagnation.
Like the closed Japan of old before the Black Ships arrived—those who clung to the past would only perish, crushed by Militech and the New United States.
To lose again—that, Saburo would never allow.
The Fifth Corporate War would co, and in its wake—only one giant would remain standing.
Arasaka or Militech. One must die.
Vela, who had inherited the political legacy and mantle of Kei Arasaka, was Saburo's carefully chosen successor after a series of exhaustive evaluations—the ideal candidate for multiple key roles: Arasaka Board mber Candidate, Chairwoman of the North Arica Arasaka Tower Executive Council, and Director of Night City Security Division.
It was both a reward for her achievents and the entrusting of a heavy responsibility.
Half a year had passed since Vela had ignited the North Arican situation—Shintaro Takayama arriving with two supercarriers and their escort fleets to "cool down" the New United States, while Saburo Arasaka, via video conference, held his second round of peace talks with NUSA President Rosalind Myers in Alvin, Southern California.
The Barghest and Lazarus rcenary groups still clashed behind the scenes, but on the surface, at least, Arasaka and Militech had yet to go to open war.
The rewards were well deserved—Vela had solidified Arasaka's foundation in Northern California's Night City, supported the Barghest rcenary group, instigated independence movents among the western states of the NUSA, and helped reestablish the Western Free States Alliance, further dividing the New United States—all while strengthening Arasaka's strategic influence across the Pacific Rim.
Her achievents in research and technological developnt were another matter entirely.
The burden, however, lay in her role at the North Arican front line—facing the inevitable counterattack from the New United States, Militech, and their allies, much as the "forr crown prince" Kei once did.
This position demanded resilience under pressure, strong military command ability, the skill to unify and coordinate Arasaka's North Arican factions, and sufficient personal combat power to survive the assassinations that were sure to co.
Among Arasaka personnel in the Aricas, aside from the senior national directors who held rank by tenure and tradition, Vela's authority and influence ranked second only to that of Michiko Arasaka, CEO of Arasaka's Arican Division and official board mber.
Administrative control belonged to Michiko Arasaka. Warti command belonged to Vela.
Kei's daughter—one by blood, the other a granddaughter in title but not in flesh—would each inherit his legacy and will.
At that thought, Saburo's gaze deepened.
A will was more important than flawed blood.
Hah, the old man's in quite a good mood today.
Blinking, Vela mused silently.
While everyone's attention remained on Saburo, a faint crystalline-blue glow rippled outward from beneath her indigo cybernetic left eye—so subtle it almost went unnoticed.
Geass.
Even in its diminished "monkey copy" form, stripped of the [C's World] collective subconscious amplification, the difference between her version and Leila's original power was obvious—but it no longer required direct eye contact to take effect like the "Black Prince's" Geass.
Otherwise, a re layer of protective lenses would nullify it, and it could only be used once per target—such restrictions would make the ability laughably impractical in a cyberpunk world.
After all, even relics of the "Old Era" like Saburo Arasaka in his most decayed state, or street punks like David Martinez from humble origins, all possessed basic cybernetic eyes.
Whether the "Absolute Command" effect of Geass would still function—or degrade into sothing closer to hypnotic suggestion due to the world's incompatibility—Vela could not be sure.
What was she supposed to do, test it on preschoolers in Night City?
It was almost 2077. Aside from toddlers and the rare few who refused even basic cyberware—the so-called "pure flesh traditionalists"—where could she find that many unaugnted people?
Thus, Leila's Geass remained the more useful—its area-based nature, no need for direct eye contact, and lack of activation limits made it far better suited for preemptive strikes and, perhaps, "cross-world conquest."
Temporary limitations didn't matter. Even if the ability had regressed from direct thought-sharing and linkage to general emotional sensing, it still gave Vela a distinct tactical advantage.
In etings or negotiations, being able to roughly gauge others' emotional states… was more than enough.
A perfect ability for a courtier, she thought wryly.
Still, how could she restore and strengthen her Geass?
While considering the technological armant upgrades, Vela recalled the Geass ruins and the research data once held by V.V.'s Geass Order in the [Code Geass] world.
Perhaps she could try building her own Geass Order within the Cyberpunk world.
Yes… after the year-end board eting, when she returned to Night City, she would experint.
Unaware of Vela's wandering thoughts, Saburo, pleased with his "granddaughter's" conclusive statent, promptly declared the eting adjourned.
This assembly had rely been a tool for ideological consolidation—a reaffirmation of Arasaka's uncompromising stance. A small eting for great matters, a large one for trivial issues. Nothing unusual.
Next ca the family gathering at the Arasaka estate.
Rising, Vela exchanged a knowing glance with Michiko Arasaka—who had spent the entire eting silent as a ceremonial figurehead—then looked toward the 3D holographic clock on the conference room wall.
2076/12/31.
Ah… Japan's solar New Year was approaching again.
The Arasaka family would gather to honor the late crown prince, Kei.
This ti, she bore the na officially.
As she departed, the light on her seat's naplate dimd, leaving behind the engraved title:
Vela Adelheid Arasaka Russell.
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