Less than five minutes after the seizure of the venue, the outside world erupted into a hornet's nest of chaos.
In the Joint Command Center, Kenneth, George, and Mike were swamped. A barrage of orders was being dispatched to various mobile units.
Gustav Karls and Jegans scrambled from their bases, boarding Galcezon transport planes and taking flight toward the conference hall.
"How did those bastards get inside?!"
Mike glared at the corner of the giant screen, which showed the live media broadcast of Char's speech. He gritted his teeth, wishing he could charge in and execute the man personally.
However, Mafty held a significant number of high-ranking Federation officials and aides.
Any rash action might provoke them into executing the hostages in front of a global audience, which would be a catastrophic loss.
"They likely infiltrated the venue long ago," George analyzed, flipping through the building's architectural blueprints in search of a way to sneak a team in.
"Can't we just cut the live broadcast signal?!"
Kenneth stared at the screen. For some reason, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him—the sense that the status quo was about to be violently shattered.
"Cutting the television signals takes time. By the time we do, they'll have said everything they wanted to say," Mike muttered, scratching his head. "Dammit, do we really have to wait for them to finish before we storm the place?"
"High Command hasn't issued orders yet... they likely want to preserve those aides. We're entering a standoff phase," George said, taking a deep breath after checking the monitors. "Don't panic. First, get the MS to surround the venue."
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At this moment, Char's speech was still continuing.
"...It is this very arrogance that allows them to treat human lives as nothing, and to view the Newtypes, who represent evolution, as a threat. Their souls are pulled down by Earth's gravity; they think only of remaining stagnant, to the point of completely deifying the Earth and turning it into a symbol of Federation power."
Char scanned the scene below the podium, looking at each of the cameras from various television stations, speaking every word with deliberate precision.
"How many people have been driven from the homes their families inhabited for generations because of their arrogant ideas? How many have lost their lives because of it? The atrocities of the Man Hunter never cease; the tragedy in New Zealand is still fresh in our minds, to say nothing of the series of tragedies in the past!"
Television reporters manipulated their cameras, doing their utmost to ensure the clarity of the broadcast.
Meanwhile, various television stations were thrilled by the news that "Mafty has hijacked the live broadcast of the Federation's Earth Conference." Driven by a thirst for ratings and profit, they pushed the livestream out through all their various channels.
"Such things are happening in every region of the world. It is not just that the various Sides are being ignored by the Federation; even the Earth itself is being oppressed by them."
In a fast-food restaurant somewhere, people looked up at the screen at the man wearing a pumpkin head and a blue suit delivering the speech. That impassioned voice, even after being rebroadcast through speakers, still struck deep into people's hearts.
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"The Federation of today is no longer the AEUG of the past. They have corrupted themselves, transforming into the Titans of old—no, they are an existence even more decadent and distorted than the Titans."
On a beach in Europe, on Earth, a mature woman with fluffy short blonde hair and wearing a brown trench coat held a communication device. Her sapphire-like eyes watched the live broadcast of Char's speech.
She sat in a chair, the sound of waves repeatedly crashing against the sand echoing in her ears. Under the shade of a parasol, a cup of still-warm coffee sat by her hand.
"So similar... he is exactly like him."
Watching Char on the screen wearing the pumpkin head mask, the woman sighed as if reminiscing about something. "Brother..."
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"Earth... this beautiful water planet is the cradle of humanity."
The expression beneath Char's pumpkin head grew solemn. He leaned forward slightly, looking into the hollow lenses of the cameras. "But humanity must eventually grow up. We cannot stay in the cradle forever. The era for humanity to leave the cradle and begin living independently arrived long ago."
On the Moon, inside a greenhouse, a middle-aged man with short blue hair dressed in gardening gear stopped what he was doing.
He stared at the scene on his communication device as he was watering flowers.
"Kamille, what's wrong?"
Seeing the man pause, a woman with short black hair nearby—also in gardening gear and pruning flowers—stood up. "We've been on the Moon for so long, and I think this is the first time I've seen you this focused."
"Mm... it's just that watching this Mafty makes me remember the past a bit, Fa."
The man known as Kamille Bidan, the former pilot of the Zeta Gundam, smiled as he looked at his wife—Fa Yuiry.
"That's true... it's just like Dakar back then."
Fa Yuiry looked at the smile on Kamille's face and walked quickly to his side. "Those were difficult times... but we made it through, didn't we?"
"Yeah... we made it through."
Kamille nodded and returned his gaze to the images on the communication device.
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"...However, the Federation of today intends to break its own legs to stop its progress, crawling back into Earth—the cradle of humanity. They use a surface-level facade of so-called democracy to disguise their nature as a privileged elite, and use a tangled mess of systems and policies to oppress everyone, all just to mold the cradle of Earth into their throne!"
On the Ra Cailum of the 13th Autonomous Fleet, Bright sat in the captain's seat, watching Char in his pumpkin head mask on the screen above.
Once upon a time, he had seen a man just as high-spirited as this, standing on a podium and denouncing the injustices of the Titans.
And this time, it was the Federation's turn—or rather, the turn of what the AEUG had become.
"He speaks well..."
Bright's adjutant stood to the side, sighing in admiration.
Those capable of joining the 13th Fleet and following Bright for so long were all people who understood past events and shared similar ideals with Bright; naturally, they felt no resentment toward Char's condemnation of the Federation.
"Yeah... it's just like what I saw back then."
Bright sighed, leaning back into his chair.
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"The Federation has been propagating that the Earth's ecology is recovering, but please, look around you! The ocean's harvests are gradually dwindling, desertification is becoming more severe, and the environment continues to deteriorate. The Earth is already overburdened!"
On a colony on Jupiter, a man with brown, naturally curly hair sat in his room, raising an eyebrow as he watched the text broadcast scrolling across his screen.
Although he hadn't participated in the Gryps War back then, he knew the general details of the Dakar Assembly; after all, Bright, who had witnessed it firsthand, was his captain.
"Judau! Hurry up and come fix the water recycling unit!"
At that moment, a woman's voice called out from outside the room.
"Ah... I'm coming!"
Judau responded loudly, picking up a nearby toolbox. He shoved his communication device into his pocket and walked out of the room.
Today on Jupiter, as always, was peaceful.
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Char's speech continued, but clearly, things would not go smoothly.
"Static... Damien, the Federation has started cutting the feed. Many TV stations have terminated their broadcasts!"
Mihessia's urgent report crackled through Char's earpiece.
It seemed the time had come.
Char took a deep breath, steadying his somewhat agitated heart.
To make the television stations ignore the Federation's ban and risk continuing the broadcast, he needed a sufficient reason—one that would cause public opinion to explode instantly, granting them the traffic, discourse, and profit they craved.
And as it happened, Char had exactly that reason.
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In full view of the public, Char removed the pumpkin mask from his head, revealing his golden hair and sapphire-like eyes.
The sudden removal of the mask caused everyone to freeze for a moment, followed by gasps and exclamations that could no longer be suppressed.
This face was familiar... but who was he, exactly?
In contrast to the excited reporters, the various Federation aides confined to their seats stared intently at Char's face, as if memorizing his appearance to hunt him down once they escaped.
"Let me remind you once more: even if the Federation kills me, another Mafty will appear, and then another, an endless succession of Maftys."
Sensing the malice radiating from all directions, Char remained indifferent, speaking with total composure.
"My current name is Damien."
The corners of Char's mouth curled up as he spoke words in a calm tone that were enough to blow the Federation apart: "But before this, my name was Char Aznable, son of Zeon Deikun."
The discussions on-site could no longer be contained, and even the eyes of the aides looking at Char began to glaze over in shock.
The previously suspended broadcasts were flicked back on because of Char's reveal and his declaration of identity.
For the sake of the profit brought by this surge in traffic, the television stations defied the Federation's ban.
"To all of you, I am a ghost of the past who should no longer have been involved. However, seeing the suffering endured by everyone—whether Oldtypes or Newtypes—under the Federation's rule, I can no longer remain silent."
Char's gaze shifted from the camera lenses to the aides below.
"The One Year War, the Gryps War, the First Neo Zeon War, the Second Neo Zeon War... every faction that inherited the title of 'Federation' has, time and time again, used the blood of the young and the brave to destroy the previous administration, only to quickly become corrupt themselves."
"Through the spiral of history, they have proven time and again that the only lesson humanity has learned from history is that they never learn any lessons!"
Char raised both hands, making a gesture akin to "Please lend me your strength"—a move enough to trigger the Federation's PTSD.
Or rather, from the moment he removed his helmet, the Federation had already entered a state of PTSD.
"Hereby, I announce that Mafty is renamed AEUG Zero. We inherit the original, noble ideals of the AEUG and formally declare war on the decadent, alienated Federation!"
As he spoke, Char shifted his posture, his left hand gripping the podium while his right hand was raised high, five fingers clenched into a tight fist.
"Members of the Federation, please think for the sake of the present; think for the sake of your descendants. Everyone is currently being pulled to the edge of a cliff by the chains formed by the Federation's greed and corruption. The next person dragged into the abyss by the Federation could be you, or your children."
"For yourselves, for your descendants, for everyone, and for true justice and freedom—I hope those within the Federation will abandon the darkness for the light as soon as possible and join us to fight for the future of all mankind."
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After Char revealed his mask and began his speech, an emergency order arrived at the Joint Command.
"The Federation's orders have been issued. Attack the assembly hall! Don't worry about those former aides!"
Looking at the Federation's command, Mike breathed a sigh of relief; finally, they were back in the territory he excelled in. "All teams, commence the attack! Level the assembly hall!"
"Wait! There are still reporters inside!"
Hearing Mike's decision, Kenneth froze in shock.
"Reporters, aides—it doesn't matter. As long as the positions exist, people will scramble to fill them!"
Mike shook his head and looked at Kenneth. "In this era, especially on Earth, human life is the cheapest commodity. In fact, by reducing the population, the Federation might even give me a commendation."
Hearing Mike's explanation, Kenneth opened his mouth, but found he couldn't say a word.
Kenneth looked toward George, only to see him nod slightly in silence.
The Federation... what on earth has this place become?
At this moment, Kenneth felt a profound sense of confusion as to whether he should continue fighting for the Federation.
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At this moment, the Jegan and Gustav Karl units that had already surrounded the assembly hall, along with the infantry squads, began advancing toward the building as if they had received a coordinated command.
Just as everyone watched a Gustav Karl raise its beam rifle to aim at the hall, several yellow beams descended from the sky, precisely striking the head monitors of the MS that had raised their weapons.
A crimson machine plummeted from the heavens. The blade of a beam axe emerged from its shield, and as the unit spun, it sliced through two Gustav Karls across the shoulders in full view of everyone. The wreckage of their head monitors and the upper sections of their chests were carved away.
Along the smooth severance points, the yellow glow of heated, severed steel even caused the surrounding air to shimmer with a slight distortion from the heat.
Clang... Clang...
Before the eyes of the onlookers, the Gustav Karl—the Federation's most advanced mass-production unit of the current era—collapsed to the ground.
The impact of their immense weight was so great that the crowds of demonstrators still outside the cordon felt a significant tremor in the earth.
The Sinanju did not turn around. Instead, its emerald mono-eye shifted left and right, glancing briefly at the infantry squads cautiously forming a defensive line before settling its gaze on the Jegans and Gustav Karls, which were now on high alert due to the Sinanju's intrusion.
As their eyes met the Sinanju's gaze, the sheer killing intent radiating from the machine caused them to instinctively take two steps back.
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