One month ago.
After the presentation showcasing the preliminary results of Project Sonnentreppe, within the family shrine at the Arasaka main estate—
"Arasaka-sama, please reconsider... The R-618 'Rebirth' Compound has only been in clinical trials for less than a month. There may be unforeseen side effects and incomplete reports. You truly must not risk your life so rashly..."
"Enough, Shintaro. Since when have you become so timid?"
A slow yet resolute and irrefutable voice, aged but unwavering.
"Risk? What risk?"
"What danger do I face? Do you think she wants to kill me? Killing me—what benefit would that bring her? If even Vela Adelheid cannot be trusted, then the sheer terror of those disloyal to Arasaka would be enough to drown Tokyo Bay in a single day. She's not just a genius—she's intelligent. Before meeting her, would you have believed that Altiera Cunningham could write the Soulkiller source code before 2013?"
"Shintaro, don't regard Vela as merely a military commander. Her talents are multifaceted. Nurture her well, and she will become a pillar that not only restores Arasaka's former glory, but takes it even further."
"As for me... I've waited too long for this moment. Trapped in this failing body... How many years since I've been bound to this wheelchair? It's been half a century since I last left this place. So much compromise and submission have dulled Arasaka's edge."
"I could only watch as my son, my eldest—Kei—died before me. I've grown weary and powerless in the face of Yorinobu's rebellion. Even my grip on Japan and Arasaka has weakened to the point of barely holding on. They all think I'm no different from a corpse—clinging to life, my time nearly up..."
"No. I will not go as they wish."
"To sit here waiting to die, to wither away and eventually have my personality uploaded according to protocol—such a death has no place in the spirit of a warrior. I would rather drag this broken body into battle. Either this husk is buried in the ground a few years earlier, or..."
"I will lead Arasaka once more."
...
Clack clack clack—
When Saburo Arasaka, clad in a black-and-gray wide-sleeved kimono beneath a haori adorned with the Arasaka family crest, appeared at the press conference at Arasaka Tower in Tokyo, a moment of shock and speechlessness swept through the room. Then the media and reporters present exploded with excitement, fingers frantically pressing shutters, the flash of cameras nearly forming a solid sheet of light.
Holy hell—this was Saburo Arasaka!
The Shogun of the New Era, the true supreme ruler of Japan, the old emperor of the Arasaka corporate empire!
A single snap of his fingers and a nuclear strike could level half the planet (granted, Arasaka would fall with it)—undisputedly one of the most powerful figures in the world.
Also the longest-standing player still on the global power rankings today.
Especially given his half-century of near-total reclusion, Saburo may well be the corporate world's least-publicized CEO in recent decades. His sudden appearance—how could it not whip journalists into a frenzy?
His apparent rejuvenation and successful life extension—those were concerns for the higher-ups. To the press, this was a feast. Not going all-out with coverage and hype would be a betrayal of their profession.
"Arasaka-sama, please look this way..."
"Arasaka-sama, on behalf of all Tokyo Television employees, I extend our heartfelt wishes for your continued health!"
"Mr. Arasaka, I'm a reporter from OMBC (EU Broadcast Corporation). Please allow me to ask—does your appearance today signal a direct connection to the release of Arasaka's new biotech product...?"
A torrent of questions and chaotic voices surged forth. With attendees reacting in all manners, the press conference quickly descended into a maelstrom of disorder.
"A-Arasaka-sama!"
...
Even Arasaka employees were stunned—let alone outside visitors. That Saburo would step out of the Arasaka Family Compound, where he had secluded himself for half a century, and return to the public eye—no one had expected it.
Could those urban legends whispered throughout Arasaka Tower be true after all? That Saburo had initiated numerous black-tech development projects as early as the start of the 21st century in pursuit of immortality...
Had they truly borne fruit?!
Among those present, mid-level Arasaka officials aligned with the "hawk faction" exchanged glances.
So... can Lord Yorinobu still ascend?
Ignoring the growing questions and external chatter, Saburo Arasaka walked slowly and steadily across the silk-like crimson carpet.
The deep wrinkles etched by 156 years of time had been filled in by plump muscle and collagen. Large age spots on his face had faded. His previously sallow skin now had a healthy sheen, and even his thinning, withered hair had begun to regrow.
He looked like a rejuvenated elder brimming with vitality.
No one would guess this was a 150-year-old monster.
Some wondered if he was a body double. But as Hanako Arasaka, Shintaro Takayama, and other core family members and elders appeared—each with poised smiles, standing dignified or proud with arms crossed—their stance in support immediately silenced all doubts.
As for Yorinobu's absence—no one dared use that as a reason to question anything.
That drama was old news. The rift between Yorinobu and his 'emperor' father was well known.
The little prince had turned his back on riches to run a gang, slapped on some synthetic skin, and played the role of gang boss for years—always looking to defy his father. A scandal for the world's second-richest family, unforgettable and infamous across Tokyo.
"Arasaka-sama has recovered well, but in my view, the R-618 'Rebirth' Compound will still gradually lose efficacy. Most of the Progenitor Virus traits were stripped away. The byproducts activating cellular regeneration remain foreign to the human body unless the DNA itself is altered. Once the medication stops, its effects fade. It's not a permanent solution."
Following Saburo's massive security entourage into the conference hall, Vela, dressed in a black formal suit, gently rubbed her temple. Her eyes glowed red, and she let out what seemed to be a weary sigh.
She very much wanted to keep a low profile, hiding herself beneath the enormous slab of black marble etched with the Arasaka trifoil logo. Unfortunately, Shintaro Takayama stood right beside her—low profile was impossible.
In the flurry of flashbulbs, Shintaro squinted slightly. "Just act with discretion. Since Arasaka-sama chose to trust you, I naturally trust you without question. In this area, you're the expert. Also—make sure to get some rest. You've worked hard."
"Thanks for the concern. I will." Vela gave a small smile and nod.
She truly had been exhausted lately.
On one hand, she couldn't afford any slipups when preparing the special medication for Saburo.
On the other, she needed to appear as if she were utterly dedicated—draining herself mentally and physically, eliminating all uncertainty for Arasaka-sama's sake. She had to look tired.
But how could someone as abnormally energetic as Vela act tired convincingly?
Divine Gift.
Vela had been using it constantly. This time, she hadn't pulled much from the Resident Evil world, but she had pushed a lot of "Militech" from the Cyberpunk world over there.
Coincidentally, her Militech in that world was now entering a rapid development phase…
And these past two months, with no threats to her personal safety, she'd been using Divine Gift freely—and she could feel it.
She was nearing some strange, indescribable threshold.
Like a thin membrane—about to break.
"When's the second round of treatment?"
Shintaro's voice snapped Vela back to reality.
"At most, one hundred days. One quarter from now."
Vela gave a conservative and cautious number. On her data pad, an AI-assisted program continuously monitored Saburo Arasaka's biometric data.
"According to plan, the special R-618 'Rebirth' Compound I've formulated will effectively improve Arasaka-sama's condition. Because his body is too old and frail, I've minimized the virus's side effects and physical enhancement properties as much as possible, focusing purely on activating and repairing aged human cells."
At this point, Vela's tone grew somewhat self-satisfied. "Look, even without promoting it as an anti-aging miracle or exaggerating with slogans like 'reverse aging,' even if we dilute its effects further and rebrand it purely as a cosmetic and wellness product—it'll still sell like hotcakes."
"Uh..."
The moment the conversation drifted that way, Shintaro Takayama found himself at a loss for words.
She really was just twenty-three. Still too focused on surface-level things… Even at a time like this, she hadn't forgotten about pushing wellness and cosmetics through her partnership with Danger Gal.
Wearing an unreadable expression, Takayama shook his head.
Lately, Vela had been running to the Arasaka Family Compound frequently to prepare Saburo's special treatment. In line with Saburo's instructions, Takayama had been visiting her lab just as often.
Through these back-and-forth interactions, their relationship seemed to have grown more amicable.
Vela was bold, poised, and articulate—she now even dared to joke and banter with Shintaro Takayama.
As long as it didn't touch on Saburo or core principles, she found that even these serious, militant watchdog types like Takemura and Takayama weren't difficult to get along with.
At least, not for her.
And just as Vela and Takayama casually chatted—
Saburo Arasaka's aged but powerful voice echoed throughout the press conference hall.
"Welcome, everyone, to this Arasaka new product launch."
"The world says: all men must die. Yes. All of us—including you and me—have feared death since the moment we became aware of it."
"At last, humanity's greatest fear is met with the light of hope. I, Saburo Arasaka, stand before you now at the age of 156."
"During my long absence from the public eye, Arasaka Corporation suffered many unfortunate changes—grave mistakes were made, and public trust was shaken. These errors harmed the company's image and reputation."
"I promise you, this will soon be a thing of the past. Under my leadership, Arasaka will return to its golden age. Once again, it will become the strong, unshakable Arasaka of old..."
The tone was unmistakably that of Old Tokyo's imperial banner—with a chrysanthemum crest flair.
Foreign journalists and freelance media, having delivered breaking reports on Saburo's rejuvenation and public return, gradually calmed down and began digging for deeper leads.
When they turned their eyes to the Arasaka VIPs standing behind the podium's logo wall, many sharp-eyed individuals spotted a woman with pale golden hair, holding a data pad, conversing with Arasaka elder and Security Division Director Shintaro Takayama.
Particularly—her position.
Ranked just below Hanako Arasaka, Takayama, and a few top Tokyo Arasaka Tower department heads. Even several cyber-assassin leaders from the Arasaka Family Compound—wearing its signature collar pins—stood behind her, half-concealed, subtly guarding her... or taking orders from her?!
"Three minutes. I want every bit of public data on that woman!"
...
"Vela Adelheid!"
Crash!
A lavish crystal glass smashed against the wall, shattering into glittering fragments.
Inside a luxury suite, Yorinobu Arasaka's body slumped weakly before a massive TV wall.
Onscreen: the image of a rejuvenated Saburo Arasaka delivering his speech. Talk of a new bioengineering product—Project Sonnentreppe's R-618 'Rebirth' Compound. Yorinobu knew full well—that was the outcome of Vela Adelheid's trip to Africa!
"I told you to take it seriously! Told you over and over... Now look—Saburo Arasaka, that old undead bastard, really is undead! As long as Vela Adelheid is alive and pushing that research forward, that ancient bastard can pour his whole mind into building the dark world that should never exist—never have existed!"
"Useless trash!"
Yorinobu Arasaka slammed down the secure satellite phone, furiously cursing whoever was on the line.
Beep beep.
A new message alert chimed from another personal phone on the coffee table. He glanced at it.
It was from one of his so-called "hawk faction" subordinates.
Reading between the lines of their carefully worded message, Yorinobu picked out the truth: distancing themselves. Urging him to proactively support Saburo.
In an instant, Yorinobu's face darkened—but quickly, he regained composure.
Exactly as he predicted. That pack of chameleons—so quick to sniff out shifts in the company's internal winds.
Typical. Opportunistic mid- and upper-tier management types. They only backed the crown prince so they could be the ones to ride his ascent and climb higher.
Now that the "old emperor" had recovered, of course they'd shut up and step back.
"Damn it..."
"Militech... All corporations are the same. Untrustworthy. Those governing regimes are even worse—useless mud that just grovels at Saburo's feet with sycophantic flattery. Is it really all up to me now?"
Slumped against the sofa cushions, Yorinobu put down the satellite phone. He no longer had the energy to scold his Militech intelligence liaison.
"Me... defeat a newly rejuvenated Saburo?"
He murmured in confusion.
"Can I even win?"
But soon, his gaze hardened with resolve.
As long as there's life, there's struggle. He had to atone for his family's sins. Saburo's actions were absolutely immoral, utterly wrong. If even he surrendered...
He picked up his personal datapad, swiped it open—
A photo: a pale-lit lab, a monstrous giant bound and restrained behind layers of containment.
"Sonnentreppe. Progenitor Virus..."
"As long as it can destroy Saburo."
...
"Why didn't you take this seriously enough?! Who is Vela Adelheid? If she personally executed that so-called Sonnentreppe initiative, she must've had her reasons. We had it in our grasp, then lost it—what the hell are you all doing?! There's no room for complacency or wishful thinking!"
Far across the ocean, in North America—having just finished a call with an Arasaka insider sympathetic to the cause—a NUSA Joint Intelligence Agency agent responsible for Tokyo infiltration stared blankly while receiving a furious call direct from Washington.
Was it his fault it wasn't taken seriously enough?
Then why don't you come and do it?! Dammit, no heavy firepower, no mechs or powered armor squads, and the agents on the ground don't have the strength to take down someone like her with just a few implants and equipment. He had even signed off on a suicide-level denial to the hacker team's extraction request.
Not that he dared say any of that out loud.
Better to be the scapegoat. Clearly, his superior had just been chewed out by their superior.
Still holding the phone, drained, he stared at the TV airing the live feed from Arasaka Tower in Tokyo.
That old bastard Saburo had really pulled it off—cheated death and come back stronger.
Shit. Things were going to be even harder from now on.
"Compile everything you know on Vela Adelheid Russell—her background, the details of her Africa expedition, battle footage from the Johannesburg spring operation, and all available data on that so-called Sonnentreppe flower. The top brass needs a full dossier."
Beep.
The line cut.
He looked at the recipient address for the report: [Washington, White House War Room]
Clearly, this had already reached President Myers herself.
Well, no surprise. That was the old emperor of Arasaka.
"How the hell did Saburo Arasaka become young again..." He rubbed his temples in frustration and exhaustion.
The Arasaka led by Yorinobu, Hanako, and Michiko—three younger heirs—was not the same as the Arasaka now led by a vigorous and healthy Saburo.
"Fuck!"
...
That day, across the world—sooner or later, with some delay or none at all—the headline "Saburo Arasaka Reverses Aging" reached millions of households. Information about the drug he used and the woman leading the project—Vela Adelheid—was simultaneously delivered to the desks of nearly every megacorp CEO and intelligence chief.
Arasaka Tower, Tokyo.
At that moment, Saburo's speech was concluding.
"In the past, Arasaka led the world in high-end arms and light-to-heavy manufacturing. Today, I am proud to say—we still lead. And now, we will grasp the dawn of humanity's greatest biological breakthrough with our own hands."
Clap clap clap clap—
Thunderous applause.
Vela clapped along, watching Saburo in his vigorous state. She couldn't help but wonder—how would Yorinobu break this stalemate? Would she need to custom-design an outrageously powerful virus just so he could 'steal' it?
Just as Vela's mind reflexively reached across to link with her alternate self—ready to issue instructions or inspect a new item—
Pop~
A sound like a bursting bubble.
In Vela's field of vision, the mysterious and ever-shifting outer realm—an endless otherworldly expanse—began to ripple, as if a stone had been dropped into an otherwise placid lake.
"Hmm?"
A double blessing.
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