Chapter 188: Yorinobu's Rage
The Arasaka White Whale carrier strike group, like a moving mountain of steel, lurked on the dark seas west of Night City.
The massive catamaran hull sliced through the waves, casting a shadow so heavy it seemed substantial, dyeing the entire sea with a grim chill.
Inside the bridge, the lighting had been deliberately dimmed. Only the central holographic tactical sandbox emitted a cold, ghostly glow.
On the sandbox, the Badlands manufactorum—the "Abandoned Town"—and its surrounding terrain were meticulously outlined. But the most blinding feature was the azure ring of light completely shrouding the core area—the Energy Shield.
It was like an impregnable domain, silently mocking Arasaka's massive military might.
Yorinobu Arasaka stood tall before the sandbox, hands clasped tightly behind his back, knuckles turning slightly white from the force of his grip.
His face, usually marked by aloofness and arrogance, was now covered in a layer of frost. Deliberately suppressed rage pulsed between his brows, threatening to burst forth.
His chest heaved slightly faster than usual, but the amplitude of every breath was strictly controlled, maintaining a critical state on the verge of explosion.
His gaze, like two ice-quenched blades, was nailed to the image of the shield, as if he could tear it apart and evaporate it by will alone.
On a smaller auxiliary screen nearby, the shameful footage of the air wing's failed attack was playing back in slow motion.
Dense clusters of missiles dived with trailing flames, only to hit that layer of blue halo like crashing into an invisible quagmire. They failed to trigger even a ripple of an explosion, merely stirring futile energy waves on the barrier's surface before twisting, shattering, and falling as useless metal debris.
Throughout the process, the shield itself remained desperately stable, too stingy to even give a symbolic flicker.
"Trash!"
Yorinobu's voice wasn't deafening, but like a cold whip, it abruptly shattered the oppressive silence in the bridge. He suddenly raised his hand and, with force that seemed capable of smashing everything, hammered heavily onto the hard alloy frame of the tactical sandbox.
CLANG—!
The dull thud echoed in the enclosed space, causing several young officers standing nearby to subconsciously shrink their necks and lower their heads further, not daring to meet his gaze, holding their breath.
"An entire air wing!" Yorinobu's voice pitched up sharply. Every word seemed squeezed through his teeth, filled with the fury of utter humiliation and ultimate contempt for incompetent subordinates. "Carrying enough munitions to wipe a small city off the map! And the result? You couldn't even light up their perimeter trash heap!
"Billions in funding every year, and this laughable combat power is what Arasaka piled up? Raising a bunch of idiots who can't even hit a target?!"
His reprimand crashed and echoed within the bridge, perfectly playing the role of an Imperial heir whose pride had been frustrated and who was eager to wash away the shame with enemy blood.
The layers of this anger were distinct, from the initial cold suppression to the explosive scolding now. Every detail was carefully calculated, perfectly fitting the outside world's expectation of "Yorinobu Arasaka"—impulsive, irritable, and unquestionable.
However, in the deepest depths of those eyes burning with rage, a glimmer of absolute calm, like a dark current hidden under ice, coldly scrutinized the reaction of everyone around him, evaluating the effect of this performance.
"Yorinobu-sama, please quell your anger." Shintaro Takayama's steady voice sounded from the side.
He remained impeccable, his hair combed without a single strand out of place, his dark suit ironed flat, as if the failed attack just now had nothing to do with him. "According to preliminary data analysis, the energy shield technology deployed in the target area is of an extremely high level. Its energy field stability and defensive intensity exceed the upper limits of our existing conventional strike means.
"This is not the fault of the pilots or the equipment, but a generational gap in technology."
"Generational gap?" Yorinobu turned abruptly, his gaze shooting toward Takayama like a knife. He needed to push this drama to a more extreme proposal to test Takayama's bottom line and pave the way for his subsequent plans. "Uncle Takayama, are you saying that we, Arasaka, a dignified world-class military technology corporation, have been left behind by a generational gap in defense technology by a faction of unknown origin?
"This is simply a colossal joke! If conventional weapons are ineffective, then why are we wasting time here?!"
He stepped closer, his voice carrying the hoarseness of a cornered beast. His gaze swept over the blinding blue light on the holographic sandbox, finally fixing on Shintaro Takayama's face as he proposed the taboo option: "Are you going to let me, let Arasaka, be blocked outside by this light like fools, letting the whole world laugh at us?! Since conventional means won't work, then use unconventional ones!
"Isn't the White Whale equipped with tactical nuclear warheads? Activate them! Authorize a nuclear strike!
"I want to see whose turtle shell is harder, theirs or our tactical nukes! Evaporate that damn place and everything inside it from the face of the earth! End it once and for all!"
"My Lord! You must not!" Shintaro Takayama's voice carried unprecedented resolve. He even took half a step forward, making a gesture that slightly implied obstruction. "The cost of using tactical nukes will far exceed the benefits of destroying an abandoned town! Please, you must reconsider!"
Yorinobu Arasaka whipped his head around, those eyes burning with rage staring dead at Takayama, as if his supreme authority had been offended.
His chest heaved violently as he squeezed cold words through his teeth: "Cost? Uncle Takayama, are you teaching me to weigh costs? Arasaka's dignity is being trampled! Tell me, what cost is greater than this?!"
Seeing Yorinobu's state—bordering on paranoid and scorched by a "sense of humiliation"—Takayama immediately continued in a more earnest, urgent, yet still logically clear tone: "Yorinobu-sama, please think back to fifty years ago! That nuclear bomb that exploded in Arasaka Tower—how many years of infamy did we bear because of it?
"If we take the initiative today to raise a mushroom cloud over Night City again, even just on its outskirts, the world will not care about the reason. They will only remember that Arasaka used nuclear weapons once more! We will become the target of public criticism in the international community!"
Shintaro Takayama's voice echoed in the bridge. When dealing with this Crown Prince of the Arasaka Empire, only an elder veteran like Shintaro Takayama could, or rather was qualified to, dissuade him.
As for the other staff officers in the bridge, facing Yorinobu Arasaka, they were like quails, daring not show the slightest resistance.
This was not because they feared Yorinobu Arasaka the man, but simply because he was the heir to the Arasaka Group, the Crown Prince of the Empire!
Yorinobu Arasaka's will was an imperial edict to them, the will of a god, allowing no defiance or opinion.
However, this immense power, which should have filled Yorinobu Arasaka—or any ordinary person in the world—with intoxication and yearning, was to him only a sorrow and a shackle.
He had once tried to unlock the shackle and rebel against his father, but the result yielded no achievements, leading only to fifty years of sinking.
Now that he had finally obtained the opportunity he dreamed of, Yorinobu Arasaka still needed to continue playing that character image deemed arrogant by the outside world, continuing to suppress...
(End of Chapter)
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