Chapter 232: Joric's Anger
Shintaro Takayama's face displayed a resolve bordering on mania as he spun around abruptly to face the entire bridge command center.
His hoarse voice, carrying unquestionable authority, exploded in the command room: "Relay my orders! White Whale battle group, all units, enter highest combat readiness immediately! Target—Night City!"
This order seemed to flip a switch of madness.
The entire command system was instantly ignited. Commanders at all levels had the same fanatical light flickering in their eyes.
They were almost roaring as they repeated the orders: "All naval guns, adjust firing arcs immediately, lock onto Night City's core area!"
"Missile silos fully open, coordinates locked!"
"Air wing! All launch! Load highest-yield ordnance! Repeat, highest-yield ordnance!"
Takayama took a deep breath, the madness in his eyes reaching its peak. He almost screamed the final directive: "Load that 'Special Warhead'! Put it on the lead plane immediately! Use authorized!
"Since they dare to humiliate Young Master Kei, humiliate Lord Saburo, then let them... burn in Arasaka's fury along with this damned city!"
The order echoed in every corner of the entire battle group like a death knell.
This was no longer the personal madness of a single commander, but the collective hysteria of the entire Arasaka military machine.
On the flight deck of the White Whale, ground crew moved as if injected with a frenzy serum, loading ordnance at a speed bordering on self-destructive.
There was no fear of nuclear weapons in their eyes, only a pathological fanaticism.
When the tactical nuclear warhead marked with radiation warning symbols and the Arasaka family crest was carefully loaded onto the specially modified attack aircraft, the surrounding ground crew even wore expressions nearing reverence.
"For Lord Saburo!" Someone shouted the slogan first, and it instantly spread across the deck.
In the command center, operations staff calculated strike parameters frantically. There was no hesitation on their faces, only the resolve of martyrs.
The communication channels were filled with the hoarse confirmations of various ship commanders, each voice carrying the same undertone of madness.
The roar of engines was like the bellow of beasts, tearing apart the tranquility of the sea surface.
One by one, fighter jets were catapulted into the air from the carrier deck like cursed arrows.
They quickly formed a massive attack formation in the night sky, every fighter laden with the will to destroy.
All turrets of the fleet rotated synchronously, their cold muzzles pointing uniformly toward the brightly lit city in the distance.
In this moment, the entire Arasaka fleet transformed into a giant suicide attack weapon.
From the highest commander to the lowest soldier, everyone was immersed in a collective "Honorable Death" (Gyokusai) fever.
This madness transcended reason, drowned out fear, and left only a common thought—to wash away the honor they held inviolable in the most extreme way possible.
However, the Arasaka fleet's all-out madness did not escape a pair of omnipresent "eyes."
At this moment, inside the temporary workshop in the Night City Badlands town, Joric was focused on the final stage of data verification for the up-scaled design of the Dimension Teleporter.
On the makeshift main console, blue holographic blueprints rotated slowly, countless data streams cascading down like waterfalls.
Just as the verification process reached a critical node, the Servo-skull hovering nearby suddenly emitted a sharp warning hum.
Almost simultaneously, two virtual avatars flashed into existence in the data space—Spider Murphy with her iconic long red hair and the meticulous figure of "Administrator" Kei Arasaka coalesced nearly at the same time.
"Lord Sage." Kei Arasaka's voice maintained its usual steadiness, but the speed was noticeably faster. "Abnormal large-scale mobilization detected from the Arasaka White Whale battle group.
"All ship-borne weapon systems have completed launch preparations. The air attack formation has launched and is approaching Night City at combat speed. Attack intent is clear. Threat level assessment: Highest."
Spider Murphy's supplement followed closely, carrying the icy confirmation characteristic of a netrunner: "They have deployed strategic-level weaponry. My monitoring nodes indicate that the last tactical nuclear warhead has completed loading procedures. Target parameters likely point to the workshop area or the City Center. Shintaro Takayama has issued a 'Gyokusai' style attack order."
Joric's data verification movements stopped abruptly.
His massive metal body slowly turned toward the main control screen. His crimson optical lenses locked precisely onto the real-time battlefield situation map.
The dots representing the Arasaka fleet and air formation were approaching rapidly, and the signal of the specially marked nuclear bomb was particularly glaring.
Inside his processing core, data streams surged at unprecedented speeds, conducting multi-threaded threat assessment and tactical deduction.
Initially, pure tactical analysis unfolded rapidly in Joric's core—enemy force composition, attack path planning, estimated time of arrival, allocation plans for friendly defensive resources... These data points operated seamlessly like gears in a precision instrument.
However, as the analysis deepened, an unprecedented emotion began to spread through his logic circuits.
This was not vigilance in the face of a threat, nor the calmness of evaluating the balance of power, but a deeper emotion—a strong dissatisfaction of being offended and disturbed.
His experimental field, this "social laboratory" where preliminary order had just been established and valuable data was being produced... this research sample obtained by expending massive computing power and resources, even utilizing cross-dimensional technology to summon the Skitarii...
Now a group of ignorant fools dared to attempt to thoroughly destroy it in the crudest way possible?
Just for their laughable "dignity"? For that rotten, archaic concept of "When the Lord is humiliated, the vassal dies"?
Did they not understand that interfering with the research process of an Adeptus Mechanicus Explorator Magos was an act more unforgivable than any form of blasphemy?
This dissatisfaction was cold and pure, devoid of the restlessness of human emotion, yet more oppressive than any hysterical outburst.
It stemmed from deep concern that a precious research environment might be destroyed, from absolute intolerance that valuable data about to be produced could be ruined in an instant.
Joric's crimson optical lenses adjusted their focus slightly, changing for the first time due to an emotion not strictly research-related, locking firmly onto the dot representing Arasaka's final madness.
He was, finally, angry.
This anger did not stem from a loss of control over personal emotions, but from a profound dissatisfaction that important research was about to be barbarically interrupted.
At this moment when critical data was about to be produced, any act interfering with the experimental process was blasphemy against knowledge exploration itself.
And the blasphemers would face Joric's most intense punishment.
(End of Chapter)