The conversation between Saburo Arasaka and Karl was, ultimately, about dreams. Saburo spoke of his own dream. Karl, of someone else's. Karl
The conversation between Saburo Arasaka and Karl was, ultimately, about dreams.
Saburo spoke of his own dream.
Karl, of someone else's.
Karl didn't have a dream he could declare without hesitation—but he remembered one.
He remembered the dream of someone else clearly.
A dream that had followed him from the beginning of his time in this era. A simple, natural dream.
Karl's words lacked power. He wasn't a man skilled in rhetoric.
He couldn't refute Saburo Arasaka's beliefs, nor could he change the convictions of someone whose worldview had long calcified.
He merely spoke—to Saburo Arasaka—about the dreams of the ordinary, the forgotten, the lowest of the low. People who, compared to Saburo, perched high above the clouds, were like ants crawling through dust.
And yet Karl still believed—
Even that kind of dream...
Even someone like Allen's dream...
Deserved to be spoken aloud.
Did Saburo Arasaka understand?
No.
Of course not.
Just as those who stand atop mountains cannot make out those at the foot, how could they possibly perceive the ants beneath them?
But he did understand one thing.
Karl had rejected him.
Rejected Saburo Arasaka.
And so, naturally, came the emperor's cold indifference.
"It seems you're just another fool."
Saburo Arasaka could call others fools with full confidence—because he was Saburo Arasaka. Always wise. Always right.
He no longer considered Karl worth his attention.
No matter how valuable he might have been—even if he was worth sacrificing a member of the Arasaka family—the moment he refused to submit, he became useless.
Once Saburo dealt with Senno Arasaka, who had likewise lost his value, sweeping Karl aside afterward would be no trouble.
"You know what to do now, don't you?"
He turned his eyes on Senno Arasaka.
"Where is it?"
"I've got nothing to give you."
Senno Arasaka, who had silently listened to the entire exchange between Saburo and Karl, responded with a calm Saburo hadn't anticipated.
To Saburo, Senno had already been condemned—a traitor awaiting punishment. Yet suddenly, he stood there composed and steady.
The unexpected reaction unsettled him for a moment, but Saburo pressed on:
"Do you understand what you're doing? You're handing everything we've built to the Westerners. Giving our future to barbarians."
"Our future? You mean your future."
Senno's voice was cool. "And as I recall, the core architecture of the Relic chip was designed by Alt Cunningham. The development? Anders Hellman. Both of them—the 'barbarians' you speak of."
The barb in his words twisted Saburo's expression.
And then, something long-forgotten stirred in Saburo's chest—an unease he hadn't felt in decades.
Why had Senno suddenly become so calm—so lucid, so sharp?
What had changed?
This wasn't part of the equation.
Why was he still defying him?
Why did he dare speak that way?
And yet... this version of Senno felt familiar.
Too familiar.
The kind of rebelliousness that had once allied with the Japanese government and nearly forced Saburo into a corner half a century ago.
"You—"
Saburo paused, reconsidering his words.
"I always knew this day would come. Your shamelessness was bound to cross the line. I've been lenient—but betrayal is unforgivable."
"Funny. I'm only hearing this now. If it were truly unforgivable, you should've killed me fifty years ago."
—!?
Senno's sharp retort left Saburo momentarily stunned.
And with that, the creeping dread in his heart surged again.
Both Karl and Senno had moved far beyond his expectations.
Karl, refusing to heed his wisdom? Unthinkable.
The long-subjugated traitor, once again unbowed? Unacceptable.
Saburo's long-held certainty faltered.
And then, realization set in.
If Senno was still the same man from fifty years ago...
Then right now, Saburo had walked into his territory, dismissed his own security detail, and stood directly before him.
Beside Senno stood Karl—a mercenary every bit as unyielding.
Saburo's implants were custom-built solely to keep him alive.
Which meant—
He had no combat capabilities whatsoever.
If this traitor had been biding his time for fifty years, waiting for this moment...
Saburo realized he had dismissed his guards out of arrogance and overconfidence.
Now, the only one left to protect him was himself.
Just like during the Pacific War... when all he had was himself.
And the result of that...
Saburo immediately changed tactics.
"If your mother could see you now, she'd be heartbroken. She had hoped I could mold you into someone great. And Hanako—she'll be devastated by your betrayal."
His mind raced.
As he covertly called Takemura Goro and the AV's hundred-man ninja squad, he tried to buy time—using Senno's late mother and his sister Hanako, perhaps the only family tie he still cared about.
But the blade of Jing Ke had already reached the end of the map.
And at its end—steel gleamed cold.
"No stealth ninjas with optical camo in the vicinity."
Karl's voice rang out suddenly.
Saburo turned to him—and saw the same look in Karl's eyes as in Senno's.
Unshaken.
Cold.
Like he was already dead.
A jolt of horror shot through him.
Saburo finally understood their plan.
And in that instant, using the mind that had once built an empire, he realized just how completely he had miscalculated.
It was a trap.
The Relic? A trap.
Their submission? A lie.
Their attitudes? A façade.
The real purpose—
"Then do it."
Senno Arasaka drew the weapon once named Liberty Vajra from his hip.
Karl drew his gun—Lexington Eternal Night.
Liberty.
Vajra—unyielding, indestructible.
Lexington.
Its shot—ends the night.
Bang.
Two gunshots fused into one.
The Emperor of Arasaka.
The man atop the mountain.
Now bore a bullet hole in his forehead.
One dream... had killed another.
The dream of a small man...
Had slain the dream of a great one.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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