What is the cheapest, most direct, and effective means of adjustment in the world?
—Sleep.
Sleep is the primer for the 'remedy' that cures everything.
The same was true for Vela. Though retrieving and embracing the 'self' of the [Multiversal Lifeform] could also be described as the unification of 'selves,' rendering the notion of deep integration unnecessary, there was still subjective mental and objective physical adaptation.
This was an elevation of the very essence of life.
Zzzz…
Pop.
Vela opened her eyes.
The familiar ceiling and an opulently decorated bedroom.
"Hoo…"
Letting out a long breath, Vela sat up in bed and stretched lazily. Her entire skeleton cracked and popped, every joint loosening, her body and bones relaxing in full. In an instant, clarity filled her mind, and she felt light as though every cell bathed in vibrant life. Her spirit soared, refreshed and invigorated!
She rolled out of bed and entered the washroom.
Splash—
Warm water splashed across her face, trailing down the smooth curve of her cheeks. During her morning wash, she accidentally snapped her toothbrush with only standard effort. The corners of her lips curled slightly, her indigo eyes showing a trace of amusement.
Crack!
Her slender pale fingers tightened slightly, and she watched as the high-strength polymer handle of the toothbrush gradually crumpled and shattered under pressure, ground into powder. The powdered fragments swirled away with the running water. Vela smiled faintly, rubbed her fingertips clean, her skin flawless, unmarred.
"I have to admit, climbing with positive feedback really is addictive. Ascending the long stair to transcendence…"
She looked at the woman in the mirror, slowly extending her hand. The cold, elegant woman mirrored the motion, fingertip to fingertip. In her ears, it was as though layered echoes resonated in unison.
To any third party, the washroom contained nothing but Vela muttering softly, perhaps organizing her day's work.
But to Vela, it was not so simple.
In her pure indigo irises flickered luminous overlays.
One, two… plural illusions gradually condensed in the mirror before her, perfectly fused yet distinctly independent.
One was the overworked figure of her [Cyberpunk] self—
Cough, 'Big Sister' lived up to the name.
Up earliest, to bed latest.
Always in meetings or on her way to deal with business matters of Arasaka Tower in Night City.
She often attended alongside Michiko Arasaka in the highest board meetings. She also had to handle countless tests and training assignments directly handed down by Saburo Arasaka.
Truly able to endure pressure, hardship, and relentless grind.
Mental strain was not as instantly improved as physical capacity after cybernetic enhancements.
In recent days, with her status rising and authority expanding, the reestablishment of the Free States of the West Coast, Arasaka's reconquest of the Pacific Rim—especially its offensive strategy against North America—floods of affairs from Arasaka, allies, rivals, public and private, surged endlessly, nearly drowning what remained of her leisure time.
Not incompetent or flustered—after all, she was a super-soldier with the strength of five 'Vela.'
But time was brutally squeezed. With long-term high-intensity brainwork, fatigue was inevitable.
Of course, the returns were immediate and considerable.
The name 'Granddaughter of Arasaka' grew ever louder in Arasaka's Tokyo Tower headquarters, her position ever more secure.
Such diligence crushed many aspiring competitors and imitators in Tokyo Tower into silence. They simply couldn't keep up. Even if they treated stimulants as daily meals and sleeping pills as after-dinner desserts, they couldn't keep pace.
Even the most stubborn old-school Arasaka managers had to admit it—Lord Saburo truly was the God of Investment with unmatched foresight!
And word was, Lord Yorinobu had recently been burning up with stress, so tense he no longer summoned geishas or courtesans.
Now, she had climbed from fivefold 'Vela' to ninefold 'Vela.'
Yes—the feeling of effortless control had returned. Fatigue vanished.
Time to shoulder more burdens again.
Smiling faintly, Vela turned her gaze to several other dynamic silhouettes.
Walking through crowds at a roaring super-city construction site, surrounded by engineering machinery—was her [Call of Duty] self.
Still in Iraq, building the new global headquarters of Atlas Military Industrial Group, along with the entire New Baghdad metropolitan circle, a massive intelligent industrial park, and a network of satellite fortresses.
At the podium of a funeral ceremony, surrounded by mournful music and gun salutes—was her [Tokyo Ghoul] self.
Presiding over the burial of those who fell in the Defense of Tokyo, calmly overseeing the rites. Afterwards would come medal ceremonies and promotion events for those who had earned merit. The raids on Japan's upper class that had hidden ghouls, as well as the trials of collaborators, were still underway.
In terms of office, the mission of Martial Law Coordinator had ended with the lifting of martial law. But her title as CCG Special Class Investigator and Special Commissioner Plenipotentiary [USA] remained. She had been awarded the White Dragon Wing Medal (granted for slaying an SSS-class ghoul) and the Osmanthus Medal (granted annually for exterminating over 100 ghouls), and promoted to Acting Chairman of the CCG.
Oh, and with the Prime Minister's personal petition, the rubber stamp from the Imperial Palace, and an obsequious honor official knocking on her door, Vela was given the Grand Cordon of the Order of the Rising Sun and the Order of the Precious Crown, Second Class, skipping even the formal investiture ceremony that was normally required at the palace.
And then…
Vela's vision went dark.
"…"
She was still sleeping in!
Her [Jormungand + Black Lagoon] self—now this was the life of comfort.
Reigning over Roanapur, striding across the arms smuggling world, wandering mountains and seas worldwide. Worries had disappeared at a young age. Recently she had opened two highly customized, membership-only private gun shops and clinics.
With ease, she kept her primary business perfectly in hand.
Not bad. Since she had no rare specialties to contribute, she simply took on the role of providing emotional value: helping 'Vela' dispel negative feelings, admiring people, scenery, and landscapes, soothing and relaxing the heart.
If one spent every moment scheming, plotting this and calculating that, wouldn't that be far too pitiful?
Killing and intrigue were inevitable. But the petty scuffles of early 21st-century smugglers, mercenaries, and gangsters—honestly, in the eyes of Vela who held high office in other worlds, it was nothing more than playing house.
Including herself, the old fivefold 'Vela'—some busy, some idle.
The new fourfold 'Vela'—
Vela had more or less identified the worlds they resided in.
"Masrani Global."
[Jurassic Park + World]. With dual doctorates in biomimetics and biology, she had been headhunted into the company owned by Simon Masrani, the eighth-richest man in that world, who owned Isla Nublar—a vast theme park and resort: Jurassic World.
"Public Security Section 9."
[Ghost in the Shell]. A mid-ranking officer of Germany's GSG 9 Border Guard 9th Brigade, after the collapse of America and the decline of the USSR, Germany had reclaimed sovereignty and become one of the three powers spurring Europe's revival. She had participated in forming the Maximum Force Tactical Division.
In fact, that world's MaxTac naming process owed something to her. Its role was similar to her counterparts in Night City: to face the great transformation of the era—responding to crimes committed by fully cyberized humans whose organs and bodies were replaced with artificial components.
Currently, she served as a special liaison to Japan, which had also broken free from U.S. control and regained sovereignty, conducting tactical and technical exchanges with the Ministry of Internal Affairs' Public Security Section 9.
"Vault-Tec…"
[Fallout]. Still sleeping in a cryo-pod in some core vault.
The time had not yet come.
Finally, stroking her chin, brows arched, mouth curling into a grin, Vela teased: "The name of Britannia, with a father, a mother, and over a hundred blood siblings… ugh, why so long?"
[Code Geass]. Currently residing at Catherine Palace in Saint Petersburg, governing the Eastern European front. With vacation palaces in Moscow and elsewhere. Just last night, for family matters, she had boarded a private jet from Murmansk to return to the homeland—the imperial capital Pendragon.
At this stage, among the ninefold 'Vela,' this one had the most privileged birth.
Abbreviated name: Vela vi Britannia, Third Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, Fifth in line to the throne, Supreme Military and Political Commander of Euro Britannia, and Governor-General of Siberia.
"Too bad the world's largest Sakuradite mine isn't under our jurisdiction. Well, greed knows no bounds—Siberia and Eastern Europe's resources and industrial regions are enough to squander for centuries."
"Area 11… tch, an accident-prone land. Kamine Island's Geass ruins, a disabled half-sister gone missing, a half-brother who murdered kin…"
Vela whispered softly, then calmly finished washing her face and brushing her teeth before stepping out of the washroom.
Even though, in Resident Evil's world, she was Militech CEO, the big boss, the local overlord of California, and supreme authority of the San Francisco Bay Area—no one could force her to clock in—she still had a job to do.
"Obtaining Geass is a priority goal, but don't get tricked. Research on Sakuradite-based antimatter annihilation bombs—'Big Sister' over there should need that right now."
While changing clothes, she exchanged silently: "This time back to the capital… for my brother's funeral?"
...
"Ah, the funeral of a royal brother."
[Code Geass]
Pendragon, Imperial Capital.
The Imperial Palace.
Twin Palaces.
Third Princess Vela vi Britannia sat on a low-backed chair before a half-length mirror as palace attendants dressed her smooth hair into a bun.
She already wore her formal attire: a pressed dark embroidered suit with shining golden double-breasted buttons, a high collar, a pure white cravat pinned with a cornflower sapphire brooch, shoulders padded high, trousers sharp and straight, matched with black high heels that lifted her frame and gave her a taller, more commanding presence.
As the attendants gently draped a cloak decorated with tassels and golden threads over her shoulders, fastening it in place, she glanced toward the portable computer set on her dressing table.
"Cornelia, Euphy, how does it feel to take office in Area 11? To be reassigned in such haste right after suppressing the rebellion in Area 18—at least you could have stayed for Clovis' sendoff."
On the screen, two figures appeared. One, a purple-haired woman in a burgundy suit similar to Vela's, her strong military aura matched with purple lipstick that somehow enhanced her cold, commanding beauty. The other, a pink-haired girl in a warm, ornate dress, her wide, innocent blue eyes blinking with pure sincerity. Unless it was an act, she seemed entirely lacking in political cunning—a fragile flower, stirring protective instincts.
Cornelia li Britannia, Second Princess, Fourth in line to the throne.
Euphemia li Britannia, Fourth Princess. Vela's birth had pushed Euphemia and later siblings further down the line.
"Military matters are first priority."
Cornelia's sharp violet eyes locked on Vela. "Suppressing and striking down Area 11's rebellion is the best way to honor Clovis. Besides, the mess that fool left behind…"
Speaking of their brother, a trace of reluctant gentleness softened her eyes.
"He was never fit to be Governor-General. His dream was to be a painter—he should have gone to the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts. It was only to search for Lelouch and Nunnally that he…"
"Speaking of which."
Vela cut in naturally, her expression turning cold in an instant. "From Imperial Year 2010 to 2017, we've already lost three blood siblings in that island nation."
"Because of Clovis, I've followed Area 11's news. Since Zero appeared—Fukushima, Kochi, Hiroshima… In just days, this is already the seventh organized terrorist attack."
"A Governor-General dead, terrorism surging—this is no ordinary unrest. It means the remnants weren't purged clean. Heavy blows are necessary. Cornelia, mass sweeps and internal purges—my Siberian Governorship borders Area 11. Do you need my troops in support?"
She paused, then added deliberately, "I'll follow your lead this time."
"No."
Cornelia rejected without hesitation.
First, she cast a sharp glance at Vela, then smiled faintly.
"Vela, focus on the E.U. The Empire entrusted Area 11 to me, and I will cleanse it—to honor Clovis. As for those cowardly rebels hiding their tails…"
"They don't yet deserve both our hands."
Cornelia smirked with disdain.
"Um… Sister Cornelia, Sister Vela, not all Japanese are rebels or terrorists. We could try appeasement policies too…"
At last seizing a chance to speak, Euphemia couldn't hold back from pleading for the suffering Japanese. "I've visited the slums in Shinjuku—ruins, devastation. They had no choice but to…"
"Euphy, you're in Area 11."
Cornelia sighed helplessly and tapped her sister's head. "Don't openly oppose Imperial policy."
Her little sister's political sensitivity was far too low.
Tap, tap.
Vela's fingers rapped lightly on the dressing table as her gaze lingered on Euphy. She shook her head. "Kindness must be shielded by the violence of strength. Gentle words in the mouth, a big stick in hand—that's how it lasts. Euphy, you're too hasty."
"Appeasement, within two years of Clovis' death, is not appropriate. It should be our gift to Area 11, not something forced by his death, as if we were afraid, compelled to cede benefits."
"Cornelia. Euphy."
With that, she rose to leave. "Let's talk again next time."
"Farewell, Sister."
Though she felt disappointed by Vela's cold stance, Euphemia still curtseyed with impeccable grace.
Clack, clack.
Vela left the Twin Palaces and took a carriage toward the Imperial Palace's grand hall.
The mourning ceremony of the Third Prince, her half-brother Clovis la Britannia, was about to begin.
Soon, with the anthem All Hail Britannia resounding—
Vela stepped into the hall.
...