A detailed combat report of the Arasaka remnant forces' suicidal attack, along with fragmented drone footage, was transmitted in real-time to the operational command center of the white whale flagship.
Takayama Shintaro stood before the giant holographic tactical sandbox, expressionlessly observing the red dots representing his attacking units, which extinguished one after another like snuffed-out cigarette butts.
Behind him, several senior staff members held their breath, the air thick with the oppressive silence of data streams, awaiting the Director's judgment.
"Has the data recording been completed?" Takayama asked without turning, his voice steady and without a ripple.
"Yes, Director. All engagement data, including enemy firepower reaction speed and preliminary weapon effectiveness assessment, has been recorded," a technical officer immediately replied, his tone respectful.
Takayama nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the red arrow on the sandbox, which represented the attack path and was now completely dim.
He was silent for a few seconds, then surveyed the officers in the command center before speaking in a deliberately slow, heavy tone: "Gentlemen, let us observe a thirty-second moment of silence for these brave soldiers.
Their loyalty and courage are commendable. They dedicated their lives to Arasaka, washing away the shame of defeat."
With that, he was the first to bow his head.
Most of the people in the command center followed suit, and the light of the holographic sandbox seemed to dim slightly, creating a solemn atmosphere.
Yorinobu Arasaka, standing a little further away, watched all this with cold eyes.
He did not bow his head, his sharp gaze fixed on Takayama Shintaro's back, which appeared sorrowful but whose shoulder posture had not changed.
This ritualistic moment of silence, this formulaic "affirmation" and "washing away of shame," sounded incredibly grating to him.
He clearly saw the fleeting flicker of dissatisfaction with the attack's efficiency in Takayama's eyes as he scanned the tactical sandbox the moment he bowed his head.
These people, sent to their deaths, were merely a cost of a probe, a set of quantifiable data, and a calculable severance payment in Takayama's eyes, or rather, in the eyes of the Arasaka machine.
This hypocritical mourning made him feel more nauseated than direct ruthlessness.
As soon as thirty seconds passed, Takayama Shintaro raised his head precisely, the deliberately cultivated hint of sorrow on his face vanishing instantly, replaced by his usual cold severity.
He turned to Yorinobu, his brows tightly furrowed, his tone revealing undisguised disappointment and dissatisfaction: "Lord Yorinobu, the results are very unsatisfactory. We paid such a price, but besides confirming that the enemy is indeed there and their firepower is not weak, we gained almost nothing!
Their defensive depth, command nodes, and reserve deployment—these crucial pieces of information, that group of useless people were completely incapable of probing! This operation was a complete failure in terms of tactical reconnaissance!"
His words were unequivocal, forming a stark and cruel contrast with his praise of the sacrificing individuals' "loyalty and courage" and "washing away shame" just minutes earlier, as if the souls he had just asked to mourn had instantly become the "useless people" he spoke of.
Yorinobu Arasaka observed all of this, his face still unreadable, but his fingers, hidden in his sleeves, were slightly white from gripping.
Takayama Shintaro's rapid change of demeanor, his undisguised utilitarianism and ruthlessness, once again confirmed his judgment of this system—that it was fundamentally hypocritical, ruthless, and corrupt.
These expended lives, in the eyes of people like Takayama, were always just numbers and tools.
"So, Uncle Takayama, what valuable conclusions have we drawn from this 'loyal probe'?" Yorinobu asked, his tone flat, but with a slight, almost imperceptible prolongation of the last syllable, carrying a pressure for a substantive answer.
Takayama Shintaro turned completely, facing Yorinobu directly, his brows tightly knitted into a deep furrow.
"Frankly, the results are disappointing, Lord Yorinobu," his voice was deeper than before, carrying a suppressed irritation, "We did confirm that the Wraiths unit is deployed on the front, and we confirmed that the squad codenamed 'Maine' is still active and possesses extraordinary firepower.
Furthermore, Militech's forward deployment of some power armor units was also confirmed. But—"
He paused deliberately here, his gaze sweeping over the blank area on the holographic sandbox representing the unknown, his dissatisfaction almost overflowing: "But, regarding the enemy's core defensive structure, the specific configuration and density of its firepower points, the tiered structure of its defensive depth, the precise location of its command center, and even the size of its reserves and possible directions of deployment—the intelligence we obtained is almost nil.
The enemy's defensive system is clearly layered, reacts extremely quickly, and its counterattacks are exceptionally precise and ruthless.
Our reconnaissance units... were limited in their capabilities and failed to breach the enemy's forward defenses, let alone force the enemy to reveal more of its trump cards."
His dissatisfaction was raw and real.
An attack involving hundreds of armed, even suicidal "daredevils" yielded only a reconfirmation of known facts. From his cost-benefit military logic, this was a highly inefficient, failed investment.
Those expended lives, on his scale of values at this moment, had automatically been categorized as "sunk costs."
"In other words," Yorinobu took over, summarizing with an almost indifferent calm, "besides reconfirming that the enemy is indeed entrenched there and difficult to deal with, we gained almost nothing."
His tone revealed neither disappointment nor approval, but deep within him, a cold voice echoed: So many lives, just to verify a fact already on the table—this is the efficient war logic that Arasaka believes in.
"That's essentially correct," Takayama Shintaro admitted frankly, without any embellishment, "The enemy's defenses are tight and efficient; the probing force we committed failed to achieve its core reconnaissance objectives."
His gaze refocused on Yorinobu, carrying the decisiveness of a soldier: "Lord Yorinobu, the situation is clear. Minor skirmishes are useless; we must apply more direct, more powerful pressure."
Yorinobu nodded, his face showing a timely expression of solemnity and resolve befitting the current situation: "Since small-scale probes cannot shake the enemy, let them witness the true power of Arasaka. Order the power armor units to prepare for a landing assault.
At the same time, dispatch the air squadron to conduct the first round of aerial strikes on the Wasteland Town area. Destroy their surface fortifications and weaken their defensive capabilities."
"Understood." Takayama Shintaro immediately turned and issued orders to the operations staff: "Execute the strike plan as scheduled. white whale Air Wing, immediate takeoff!"
The order was instantly transmitted through the encrypted communication chain to the flight deck.
Piercing alarms blared throughout the aircraft carrier, ground crew scurried across the deck, guiding carrier-based aircraft loaded with ground-attack ordnance into catapult positions.
With the tremendous roar of the steam catapults, one combat attacker after another, emblazoned with the Arasaka emblem, shot off the deck like arrows from a bow, piercing into the clouds, forming up in the air, and then streaking towards the Wasteland Town.
This tactical concept, relying on the aircraft carrier platform and centered on carrier-based aircraft for long-range precision strikes, originated from Saburo Arasaka's fascination with the glory of the old Imperial Japanese Navy. It was reinforced during Arasaka Kei's era and is still considered a standard procedure for demonstrating Arasaka's military and technological superiority in Yorinobu Arasaka's hands.
The massive air armada swept over the sea, carrying its destructive mission, and descended upon its target.