The dim light of Zeon's war room burned against the midnight walls of the underground command complex. Maps of the Earth spread like veins of fire across the holographic table, each line pulsing with data from Odessa, the Pacific, and now — Jaburo. The faint hum of generators blended with the clipped voices of officers whispering status reports.
Lelouch von Zehrtfeld stood at the center, gloved hand tracing the faint red line that curved southward along the Amazon basin. His crimson eyes glimmered with irritation, not awe.
"Rezen," he said without turning. "Confirm it again."
Rezen Schneider saluted, his pilot suit half unzipped and streaked with oil. "Yes, Commander. Visual confirmation from the Gogg squad. Blitz and Duel Gundam have both been deployed at Jaburo's perimeter. One piloted by the boy we clashed with before—Hikigaya, I believe. The other by an unknown child soldier."
"Child soldier," Lelouch repeated quietly. "How poetic. The Federation sends children to fight our veterans, and yet… they win."
The hum of machinery filled the silence.
Johnny Ridden leaned against the table's edge, helmet under one arm. "If those units are really down there, Commander, Jaburo's R&D section must be deeper than we expected. We could be facing a whole new line of prototypes."
Lelouch's gloved fingers tightened slightly. "And you expect me to send men into a labyrinth to find them? No, Ridden. Even Zeon's glory has limits."
Shin Matsunaga spoke next, voice calm but grave. "The troops are restless. Many don't understand the delay. They've seen the Odessa lines collapse and believe Jaburo is next."
"Belief," Lelouch murmured, turning toward him. "A useful illusion. But illusions don't win wars."
He gestured toward the holographic projection of Jaburo's terrain. The blue surface cracked open to reveal an endless honeycomb of tunnels, hangars, and buried silos.
"This," he said, "is a fortress built to survive extinction. Even nuclear fire might only scratch the surface."
The mention of nuclear fire drew a tense glance from Rezen. "Commander… are you suggesting—?"
"I'm stating," Lelouch interrupted, "that if we had enough warheads, I would have already erased Jaburo from this planet."
The air in the room thickened. Gihren Zabi's holographic form flickered into existence above the table — tall, stern, his gaze as sharp as the edge of command. "And yet you do not," Gihren said coldly. "Our nuclear reserves are limited, Commander von Zehrtfeld. You will not waste what remains on an unconfirmed strike."
Lelouch bowed slightly, eyes lowered but his mind already in motion. "Then perhaps you'd like to provide me with the resources to win without them."
Gihren's tone sharpened. "You have Shin, Johnny, Rezen, and several of our finest units. That will suffice. If not—perhaps the problem lies not in the arsenal, but in its strategist."
The jab hit deep, but Lelouch smiled faintly. "Of course, Your Excellency. I will deliver results."
The hologram vanished. The silence that followed was heavy with suppressed emotion.
Rezen clenched his fists. "Commander, that was—"
"I know," Lelouch said simply. "And yet he's not wrong."
He turned back to the table, pulling up a new data layer. Jaburo's perimeter defenses glowed bright red. "We're stretched thin. Most of our veterans are still engaged at Odessa or in orbit. The troops here—half of them are replacements, many barely out of training."
Shin's brow furrowed. "Then what's the plan?"
"The plan," Lelouch said, "is to remind the Federation that Zeon's strength lies not in numbers, but in will."
He pressed several keys. The display shifted to a series of converging strike paths. "We target Revil's command center. Not the fortress, not the production zones. Kill the brain, and the body will rot."
Johnny nodded slowly. "We'd need precise coordination. Jaburo's surface cannons will tear apart any large formation."
"That's why we won't use one," Lelouch replied. "I'll lead the front line myself. Rezen, you'll coordinate the Gogg and Z'Gok units through the river tunnels. Shin, your team will create a diversion from the eastern trench. Johnny—flank their artillery lines and draw attention."
The men nodded, though unease lingered behind their eyes.
Rezen hesitated. "Commander… are you sure? You're too valuable to risk on the front."
"Valuable?" Lelouch's smile was razor-thin. "A Zeon commander is only valuable while he can deliver victory. Lose that, and we're all expendable."
He moved away from the map, cloak brushing the metallic floor, the weight of a thousand unspoken plans pressing down on his shoulders.
Outside, the rhythmic thrum of engines echoed as mobile suits prepared for launch. The distant roar of a Gaw carrier filled the tunnels, shaking the dust loose from the ceiling.
Lelouch stopped before the viewport overlooking the hangar. Dozens of Zaku II and Dom units stood lined like titans in slumber, awaiting orders they would not survive to complete.
He thought of their faces — nameless soldiers who believed in Zeon's light, even as that light devoured them. He thought of the Federation, entrenched and stubborn, clinging to ideals built on hypocrisy.
He also thought, briefly, of what would happen if this war ended — and what monsters it would leave behind.
Rezen approached quietly. "Commander, the men await your word."
Lelouch nodded. "Tell them this. Zeon's strength is not measured by survival — but by conviction. If the Federation hides underground, we'll dig them out with fire and resolve."
Rezen saluted. "Yes, sir."
As he left, Shin lingered. "You sound like Gihren sometimes."
Lelouch looked over his shoulder, one eye catching the reflection of crimson light. "No. I sound like a man who intends to surpass him."
Shin gave a faint smile. "Then I'll follow you, Commander. Until the end."
Lelouch returned the smile — a rare, fleeting gesture. "Let's make sure that end isn't today."
He turned back toward the viewport as alarms began to pulse red across the hangar walls. The attack preparations were complete. The air was thick with purpose — and dread.
Johnny's voice came over the intercom. "Dom squad ready. Awaiting your signal."
"Go," Lelouch commanded. "Begin the first phase."
Outside, thunder rolled — not from the sky, but from engines igniting, suits launching, explosions blooming in the distance. Jaburo's defenses roared back to life, the ground trembling as the first volleys were exchanged.
Within the chaos, Lelouch's gaze hardened. Every strike, every movement, was a line on the chessboard. And he was determined that Zeon would not be the losing side tonight.
Yet, even as he gave orders, a shadow lingered in his thoughts — the realization that Zeon's might, for all its fire and fury, was cracking. They could destroy cities, but not the will of the Earth Federation.
And the Federation had children — like the ones now piloting Blitz and Duel — ready to fight back.
For a brief moment, Lelouch wondered what it meant to command a war that devoured its youth.
Then he dismissed the thought. He had no right to doubt.
"Forward all forces," he ordered. "Jaburo will fall — or Zeon will burn trying."
As the command echoes rippled through the intercom, Lelouch stood alone before the glowing map, his reflection merging with the lines of battle.
He looked every bit the emperor he was destined to become — and every bit the prisoner of the empire he served.