The smoke from Maine's crew's withdrawal from Arasaka Tower had not yet fully dissipated; the continuous flames and thick smoke burning in the middle of the city's landmark building were like a hideous, unhealed scar, branded onto Night City's skyline.
However, contrary to the chaos imagined by the outside world, the entire city had fallen into an abnormal, suffocating silence.
This was not peace, but the extreme suppression before a storm, a primal retraction of claws by all creatures sensing danger.
An unprecedented tension permeated the streets and alleys.
At the Maelstrom's junkyard stronghold, the industrial music that usually boomed all day had, for the first time, fallen silent.
The fanatics, covered in crude metal prosthetics, uncharacteristically refrained from their usual destructive activities, instead gathering in front of flickering screens, silently watching replays of the explosion on the news.
An exceptionally burly member crushed an iron can with a mechanical hand, hoarsely warning his comrades to lie low recently, especially to avoid any unfamiliar faces dressed unusually.
For the first time, the lawless Maelstrom showed a primal reverence for absolute violence.
In contrast, while music still flowed in the Heywood District controlled by the Valentinos, the usual street celebrations and family gatherings had quietly been canceled.
Well-dressed bosses exchanged uneasy conjectures in secluded private rooms, eventually reaching a consensus: while increasing patrols, they must avoid all conflicts that might involve corporate levels.
Even the Animals, which always revered primal strength, had reined in its arrogance; their muscles and claws seemed pale and powerless before the unknown force capable of vaporizing armor.
In the Night City Police Department's command center, alarm lights spun futilely.
The dispatcher's voice in the communication channel conveyed a sense of exhausted powerlessness; they issued subtle but clear instructions to subordinate units: prioritize routine public order cases, and merely record all calls involving corporate property and high-level armed conflicts.
Several police AVs symbolically circled in the airspace far from Arasaka Tower, drawing an unspoken boundary.
Veteran detectives privately stated that this had long exceeded their jurisdiction, and the entire law enforcement system had temporarily retreated to the role of an observer maintaining minimal order.
The media's shift was even more subtle.
At the outset of the incident, all news channels broadcast the 'attack of the century' at maximum volume, with anchors and invited experts excitedly proclaiming the end of the old order.
However, a few hours later, the tone of the reporting began to change significantly.
Footage of the squad's combat details was heavily edited, leaving only blurry long shots.
The wording gradually shifted from 'ruthless thugs' and 'terrorists' to 'unidentified armed individuals,' finally settling on cautious and vague descriptions like 'highly dangerous unknown entities.'
Evidently, an invisible pressure had choked the media's throat; truth and ratings had to yield to the instinct for survival.
Their reports became full of uncertainty and restraint, as if any overstepping remarks could lead to disaster.
Beneath this eerie silence, the entire city held its breath and watched.
From corporate directors to street nomads, every soul living there was trying to catch clues about the future's direction from this deadly stillness.
This behemoth, which always roared in chaos, had for the first time fallen into collective speechlessness due to incomprehensible violence.
---
In Militech's North American headquarters, within a strategic intelligence room capable of withstanding a nuclear strike, the air was so heavy it could almost be wrung out.
On the giant holographic projection screen, those perplexing combat clips were repeatedly played with unsettling clarity.
The dry voice of the technical analysis supervisor had just concluded, and the finding of a technological gap of at least twenty years plunged the entire room into dead silence.
On the faces of several high-ranking generals and corporate directors, there was no trace of the satisfaction they should have felt at their old enemy's humiliation, only a profound gravity.
The North American CEO began in a low voice, attempting to sort out the ghost hidden behind Maine's crew: "eddiepean Banks? Those old foxes prefer to kill with eddies and contracts..."
"Sinopec and Petrochem? Their armed forces are more geared towards regional defense..." The executive responsible for black operations excluded them accordingly.
Just as the Chief Security Officer directed suspicion towards Kang Tao, pointing out that this could trigger the Fifth Corporate War, and the atmosphere in the meeting room swayed between a brief excitement over the prospect of war and deeper apprehension—
The main screen switched without warning.
The resolute and stern face of NUSA's President, Rosalind Myers, appeared in the center of the image, her gaze sharp, carrying an authority that pierced through the screen.
Her access privileges clearly transcended all conventional lockdowns of this secret room.
"Gentlemen," President Myers' voice offered no pleasantries, cutting directly to the core, as if she had already listened to all previous discussions, "it seems we are witnessing a mutation capable of changing the chessboard's pattern.
No need to repeat your analysis; the conclusion is clear: an unidentified third party, using technology we cannot comprehend, has shattered Arasaka's hardest shell in Night City for us."
Militech's CEO immediately adjusted his posture, his tone respectful yet impactful: "Madam President, as we feared, this is an opportunity, but the risks are uncontrollable.
The purpose of this unknown force is unclear, and its technological background is equally a threat to us. Arasaka's retaliation will undoubtedly be insane and reckless."
"Risks always exist; the key is how we manage them," Myers interrupted him, her gaze sweeping over the flames of Arasaka Tower frozen on the holographic screen. "In 2069, we were forced to sign the Arvin Protocol, and from that moment, reunification and making NUSA great again became our unfinished mission.
Now, someone has handed us an opportunity!
Arasaka's prestige and regional defense credibility have suffered a fatal blow. This is not a conflict we provoked, but we absolutely cannot stand by."
She leaned slightly forward, the sense of oppression emanating through the screen.
"What you, Militech, see, perhaps, are surging arms orders after the war begins, a reshuffling of market shares, the prospect of completely overwhelming competitors with new equipment.
This is good; profit drives progress, and corporations need to be profitable.
But what the New American government wants is results—to bring Night City and even the West Coast back into the fold, to restore the integrity of our divided homeland.
We want a victory, a victory that thoroughly ends the East-West Coast standoff and lays the foundation for NUSA's next hundred years."
The CEO met her gaze, responding cautiously: "We fully understand and support the nation's strategic goals, Madam.
A unified market and a stable environment also align with the company's long-term interests.
But precisely because the goal is grand, we must be cautious. This unknown force... we don't even know who their next target is.
If Arasaka's retaliation loses all reason, or if this force turns against us, the situation could spiral completely out of control, even dragging us into a war of attrition against multiple parties, which would be a disaster for both corporate profits and the great cause of national unity."