The flickering holographic projection cast a pallid blue glow across the lavish but dimmed study in Zum City, illuminating the tension on the faces of its three occupants. The decor was aristocratic—dark wood, gold filigree, and a somber chandelier dimmed to match the wartime blackout protocol. The chill in the room came not from the marble flooring, but from the image flickering on the screen.
Lelouch von Zehrtfeld, his dark hair falling across his brow, leaned forward, violet eyes unblinking, absorbing every inflection of the speaker's voice. Beside him stood Garma Zabi, hands clasped behind his back in strained posture, his face etched with disbelief and frustration. A few steps behind them, silent and watchful, was Lieutenant Gene Corwen—loyal, sharp-eyed, and far more perceptive than his quiet demeanor suggested.
On the screen, General Revil, whose stern visage had become synonymous with the Federation's tenacity, stood before the Earth Federation Assembly. His uniform was immaculate, his posture unyielding, a stark contrast to the assembly's weary faces and the palpable tension in the chamber.
"My fellow citizens," Revil began, "For too long, we have endured the tyranny of Zeon. For too long, we have mourned our dead, seen our colonies ravaged, and questioned when this long night would end."
Garma's jaw clenched. Lelouch remained impassive.
Revil's voice rose, crescendoing with righteous fury. "I have seen their forces. I have studied their logistics. I have witnessed their desperation firsthand." A pause—then:
"Zeon is exhausted. Their strength is illusion. Strike now, and we end the war on our terms."
The words hit like a thunderclap. Even through the polished veneer of the broadcast, its impact was undeniable. Federation media swarmed the moment like vultures, amplifying the cry. "Zeon is exhausted" became an anthem. Operation V was confirmed for full deployment.
"Revil," Garma muttered, "he's rallying them with lies."
Lelouch exhaled softly, eyes never leaving the screen. "Not lies. Precision-calibrated illusions. He's leveraging what we allowed him to keep: his voice."
Garma turned to him. "So you think it's true? That he's speaking from something planted?"
Lelouch only offered a faint smile, then glanced at Gene. The lieutenant said nothing, but there was a flicker in his gaze. He understood.
---
Far from the polished halls of Zum City, aboard the Musai-class cruiser Iron Serpent, Tanya von Zehrtfeld stood among her GED squad, arms crossed as she watched the same broadcast from a mess hall monitor.
The projection flickered in and out, degraded by distance and encryption interference. Yet Revil's words rang clear.
"Zeon is exhausted. Their strength is illusion."
A murmur went through the squad. Young pilots, technicians, and support staff who had seen battle—and lost friends. Richter's name still lingered in the air between them like smoke.
Tanya said nothing at first, jaw tight, eyes fixed.
She finally spoke, voice calm and dry. "Funny thing about illusions. They hurt just as much as real bullets."
A few chuckled. Others nodded grimly.
Tanya turned from the screen, returning to the strategic briefing overlay she'd been refining. "He's good," she said to no one in particular. "That speech will ripple across every base, every transport, every civvie channel. They'll throw everything they have at us now."
"Do you think we're exhausted?" one of her junior officers asked.
Tanya smiled thinly. "We're not dead. That's enough for now."
As the GED squad dispersed to ready for next phase operations, Tanya lingered a moment longer, watching the image of Revil fade into static. A sharp chill crept up her spine—not from the ship's recycled air.
Something was watching.
She shook it off.
War waited for no one.
---
Back in Zum City, the transmission ended.
Garma was pacing now. "This speech… it changes everything. Revil has turned the tide without a shot fired. Operation V is their full bet."
Lelouch nodded. "And all of it rests on public perception. Revil's fire is real—but the fuel came from Kycilia and Gihren. Whether they handed it to him knowingly or not, the result is the same."
Garma paused, frowning. "What are you saying?"
Gene finally stepped forward. "He means this was allowed. Maybe even designed."
Lelouch turned away from them both, eyes narrowing. "The people believe because they want to. Revil gave them hope. But someone in Zeon gave him the stage."
Silence.
Outside, Zum City's artificial lights blinked on—unaware that history had just accelerated.
And two pairs of eyes—one violet, one icy blue—prepared their next move on separate fronts.
The war wasn't over.
It was beginning again, louder than ever.
The verdant parks and crystalline domes of Green Noah Colony, Side 7, shimmered under the artificial sun, a meticulously crafted facade of peace. Children laughed in playgrounds, commuters glided along silent walkways, and the air hummed with the gentle murmur of daily life. For the vast majority of its inhabitants, Green Noah was a haven, a distant jewel untouched by the rumblings of the One Year War that had already begun to consume the Earth Sphere. This normalcy, however, was a carefully constructed shield, designed to divert Zeon's predatory gaze from the true purpose concealed within the colony's sprawling industrial sectors: the Classified Development Zone.
Far from Side 7, in the strategic halls of Zum City, Selene von Zehrtfeld—senior intelligence officer and head of a discreet analysis unit—examined intercepted Federation data within a secure command chamber. She stood over a large holo-map, flanked not by her younger siblings but by her handpicked squad of analysts and field officers. The light from multiple data streams illuminated her sharp features, cool and composed as ever.
The flickering image of Kycilia Zabi loomed above the table, her expression unreadable. The atmosphere was tense, filled with the soft hum of encrypted feeds and the low murmur of military personnel.
"The increase in energy signatures from Side 7 suggests an ongoing project of considerable scale," Selene stated crisply, her gloved fingers dancing across the interface. "However, Federation encryption has made identification difficult. No verified references to Operation V, but the logistics speak volumes."
Kycilia's voice cut in, cool and commanding. "Speculation serves no purpose, Colonel von Zehrtfeld. Focus on verifiable objectives. Increased transport traffic and reallocation of high-tier engineering personnel to that colony indicate an active military project. What is your latest assessment?"
Selene didn't flinch. "Our projections indicate either the development of a next-generation warship or mobile weapons platform. Observation drones have tracked abnormal energy outputs consistent with Minovsky-reactor trials, though we lack conclusive telemetry."
Kycilia nodded slightly. "Continue deep infiltration of their logistics. Coordinate with my operatives in Granada and Side 3. If a prototype is being developed, I want it identified before it leaves drydock."
Selene's squad of elite officers exchanged brief glances but remained silent. Each one knew the stakes—intel gathered now could shape Zeon's next offensive.
Meanwhile, in Side 7's Classified Development Zone, the colossal frame of the White Base warship stretched across the cavernous drydock, resembling the skeletal remains of a forgotten leviathan. Engineers, their faces etched with exhaustion, moved with frantic urgency. Welders' arcs spat brilliant sparks against the half-completed hull. Every section buzzed with the hum of machinery and the clipped voices of project managers. Timelines had been shredded, replaced by a desperate imperative: completion.
"Faster! We need those ventral thrusters mounted by 0800! Zeon isn't going to wait for us to polish the hull!" barked a weary foreman. No one needed reminding. The war, distant thunder elsewhere, roared here.
In an adjacent hangar, behind a reinforced blast door, Doctor Tem Ray hunched over a console. Before him loomed the RX-78-2 Gundam. Its systems were online, but its OS—the very brain—was still incomplete. Sweat beaded on Tem Ray's forehead. Each line of code was a prayer, each test a gamble.
"Just a little more… perfect," he muttered.
Nearby, Ensign Bright Noa stood at attention while Commander Paolo Cassius issued rapid orders. "Pre-deployment drills start now! No delays! White Base launches the moment we're cleared!"
Bright's stomach churned. He'd expected a quiet command. Instead, he faced live-fire conditions.
Technicians swarmed every corridor and launch port. The Classified Development Zone held its breath. The Federation had bet everything on this prototype vessel and its untested suit.
A panicked voice over comms confirmed the obvious: "We just lost our test window. Zeon won't wait."
Back in Zum City, the secure briefing ended. Kycilia's final directive echoed through the chamber: "Increase surveillance. Prepare for infiltration. The Federation is playing a dangerous game, and I intend to cut the board from beneath them."
As the transmission cut, Selene looked to her officers.
"We move within the hour. I want confirmation—visual or digital—of whatever they're building. Prepare insertion teams. We'll make the Federation regret hiding anything from Zeon."
Above them, war moved in silence. And Selene von Zehrtfeld, calm and deadly, prepared to unmask it before it could strike.