Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 183 Arakazaka's "Loyalty" (Sixth Update)

The massive Beluga Whale, like a moving steel mountain, hovered silently on the cold sea west of Night City.

The leaden-gray clouds hung low, blending with the polluted smog that permeated the city, making this scarred city even more oppressive.

Inside the bridge, the light was soft, with only the faint fluorescence from various instruments and the light from the holographic star map illuminating the solemn faces.

Arakasaka Yoriyuki stood in front of the huge porthole, his gaze piercing through the reinforced glass and landing on the familiar yet unfamiliar outline of the city in the distance.

He had wanted to destroy the very foundation upon which it depended for survival countless times. Now, he held power and stood on the edge of achieving his goal, but his heart was filled with a cold, lifeless desolation, devoid of any joy.

“Lord Raigen,” Takayama Shintaro’s steady voice sounded behind him, “the landing force is ready, the powered armor units have completed their final checks and are ready to be deployed at any time.”

Lai Xuan didn't turn around, but simply gave a faint "hmm".

Gao Shan stepped forward and stood beside him, both gazing towards Night City. "According to feedback from our remaining intelligence network, the target 'abandoned town' area is already under defense. New America has reactivated Hansen's 'Ghost Hound' unit and deployed it on the perimeter."

Furthermore, the squad that destroyed Arasaka Tower has also shown signs of activity in the area.

“A motley crew, a rebel army, and… a few rather peculiar street rats.” Lai Xuan’s tone carried a hint of barely perceptible sarcasm, it was unclear whether he was evaluating the enemy or mocking his own current situation.

"Do not underestimate the enemy, Lord Yoriyuki," Shintaro Takayama reminded him, his tone still respectful but carrying the admonition of an elder. "The enemy must have something to rely on to destroy Arasaka Tower."

"While launching a direct, forceful attack with our main force would certainly showcase Arasaka's overwhelming power, it could also result in unnecessary losses, and... it might make us appear overly hasty and disorganized."

Lai Xuan slowly turned around, his face expressionless, as if wearing a meticulously crafted mask. "Uncle Gaoshan, what do you think we should do?"

“We need to test the waters,” Shintaro Takayama said sharply. “A decisive test that can reveal the strength of their defenses, their reaction speed, and their firepower. At the same time, it’s also an opportunity to…cleanse our own ranks and boost morale.”

"Oh?" Lai Xuan seemed to have become interested and gestured for him to continue.

"The fall of the Night City branch means that the surviving security personnel, especially the lower and middle-level commanders, are largely to blame." Gao Shan's voice was lowered, carrying a cold logic. "Traditionally, they need to prove their loyalty and wash away the shame."

Rather than letting them infiltrate the main force with their tainted past and anxieties, it's better to give them a chance—a chance to serve Arasaka and Lord Saburo with loyalty.

A cold, knowing glint flashed deep in Lai Xuan's eyes. He understood this logic all too well: sacrifices disguised as "honor" and "responsibility" were nothing more than ruthless resource exploitation and internal purges.

And this was exactly what his plan needed—chaos, exhaustion, and a prelude that would attract enough attention.

He nodded slightly, picking up where Takayama Shintaro left off, and said in a tone befitting his current identity as the "Prince of Revenge," filled with suppressed anger and determination: "Uncle Takayama is right. The dignity of Arasaka cannot be desecrated, and every employee of Arasaka should be prepared to sacrifice themselves to uphold this dignity. Especially those... who have failed to fulfill their duties."

He paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words, but in reality, he was calmly calculating the chain reaction that this step could bring.

"Pass on my orders," Lai Xuan's voice rang out clearly in the bridge, carrying an unquestionable authority, "Integrate all remaining, organized Arasaka security forces within the Night City area. Tell them that the time for atonement has come."

I need them to organize a suicide squad to launch a desperate assault on the outskirts of the abandoned town, especially on the Ghost Hounds' defenses.

He looked at Shintaro Takayama, his eyes cold: "This is not harassment, it's an attack. The goal is to break through the enemy's defenses, create as much chaos as possible, deplete the enemy's manpower, and bring back valuable battlefield data for us."

Tell them that Arasaka will remember their loyalty, and their families will receive the best possible compensation.

Shintaro Takayama gave Yoriyuki a deep look, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. There was relief that this "prince" had finally shown the iron-fisted decisiveness befitting his status, and perhaps also a hint of indifference towards the lives about to be sacrificed. He lowered his head: "Yes! I understand. This will be a perfect reconnaissance mission, and it will also give those who have failed in their duties a chance to uphold their Bushido. I'll make the arrangements immediately."

The order, like a cold hammer, shattered the last shred of hope in the hearts of the survivors.

On the communication channel, the instructions from the "Moby-Dick" were clear and cold, devoid of any emotion, yet they triggered a silent thunderclap in every remaining outpost.

After a brief period of deathly silence, there was a small-scale emotional breakdown.

Some people ripped off their headphones and slammed them to the ground, shards flying everywhere; others clutched their heads, curled up in a corner, their shoulders trembling uncontrollably; younger team members, their faces drained of color, their eyes filled with unbearable fear, muttering to themselves, "This is impossible."

The shame of defeat had not yet faded when a new and heavier despair descended—not only had they lost the tower, but now even their value as soldiers had been reduced to disposable expendables.

However, this collapse did not last long.

The company culture, cultivated over many years, has begun to take effect, acting like a kind of mental shackle.

Rooted in hierarchical concepts and the teaching of "sacrificing oneself for righteousness," these teachings begin to suppress individual fears as if by conditioned reflex.

The higher-ups, those middle-aged men whose faces were also pale but whose eyes were gradually becoming vacant, began to give a pre-battle pep talk in hoarse voices.

The words were filled with words like "glory," "loyalty," "serving Lord Sanlang faithfully," and "washing away the stain." These words, which might normally be just slogans on the wall, became the only lifeline at this moment.

“This is an order personally issued by Lord Lai Xuan…” A squad leader repeated the sentence, his voice gradually becoming firm from its initial trembling, as if the word itself had magic power, “This is our responsibility, and also… our destiny.”

A distorted logic began to spread among the people.

Rather than bearing the stigma of defeat and lingering on in future reckoning or self-reproach, it is better to pay this remaining life as a final "blood tax."

At least, this can secure "generous compensation" from the family for their relatives.

At least in Arasaka's internal records, their names would be marked "Gyokusai" (meaning "shattered to death") rather than "deserter" or "coward."

The fear did not disappear, but was forcibly distorted and alienated.

It transformed into a near-pathological state of euphoria.

The inspection of weapons became rough and hurried; they strapped bundles of stockpiled plastic explosives to their bodies or stuffed them into vehicles that would be used as assault vehicles.

Some people began to scribble phrases like "seven lives to serve the country" in red paint on their tattered uniforms. The strokes were crooked, but they carried a chilling solemnity.

Their gazes were no longer focused on reality, but rather cast towards some illusory, promised shore of "loyalty and righteousness," their faces a mixture of undried tear stains, stiff resolve, and a fanatical radiance detached from reality.

They were no longer soldiers forced to their deaths, but "righteous men" who, through self-persuasion, willingly embraced death.

The collapse and despair were quickly catalyzed into a distorted yet highly efficient desire to attack.

This hastily assembled "suicide squad" transformed from defeated soldiers into fanatical victims in a very short time, like explosives lit by a fuse, waiting only for the final order to charge towards their target and embark on a self-destructive journey with no return.

(End of this chapter)