Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

December 20, CE70, PLANT Supreme Council Meeting Room. Patrick Sara stood on the podium, behind him a large screen playing images of Junius VII—the wreckage slowly rotating in the vacuum, the shadows of the fragments cast on the walls of the council room like a chaotic dance of demons.

The members of parliament below the stage remained silent, their eyes filled with sadness, anger, and an almost fanatical anticipation.

"Natural beings, you have murdered tens of thousands of our compatriots with nuclear weapons!" Patrick's voice echoed throughout the entire Earth Sphere. His voice was hoarse with anger and trembled with grief; every word seemed to drip blood. "This is not war, this is slaughter! You want war? Fine, we'll give you war! PLANT will use every means to avenge Junius VII! The Coordinators will not yield! They will not forget! They will not forgive!"

His eyes burned with an almost morbid light. It wasn't the flame of reason, but the raging fire of hatred—consuming everything, including himself.

The members of parliament stood up, applauding thunderously. Some shouted "Avenge Junius!", some wept, and some clenched their fists. No one noticed that the light in Patrick's eyes was no longer "anger," but something else—madness.

Orb, Dawn Division office. Char turned off the holographic screen, and Patrick's voice abruptly stopped in the conference room. He rested his hands on the table, head bowed, and remained silent for a long time. Mina sat opposite him, holding a teacup but not taking a sip.

Char raised his head, his deep red eyes filled with exhaustion.

"More terrifying than madness. Madness can be healed, but those consumed by hatred have no way back."

Char recalled faces from another universe. Giren Zabi, Kycilia Zabi, those consumed by hatred and ambition. Their fates were all the same: burning themselves and others in the flames of hatred.

History always repeats itself. Humanity never learns from its mistakes.

Mina looked at him, a hint of worry flashing in her red eyes: "What can we do?"

Char stood up and walked to the window. The elevator cables shimmered with golden light in the setting sun. "In the ruins, plant a seed of peace."

Late that night, Char contacted Siegel Klein through VEDA's quantum-encrypted channel. Siegel on the screen looked much older than when they last met—most of his hair was white, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deep and etched, but his eyes were still gentle and firm.

"Commander Langlad, it's been a long time." Higel's voice remained steady, but Xia could hear the weariness and heaviness behind it.

"Congressman Siegel, did you watch Patrick's latest speech?"

"I've seen it."

What do you think?

Higel remained silent for a long time, so long that Char thought the communication had been cut off. "You already know the answer. PLANT has become his personal fiefdom. Moderates have been marginalized, the parliament has become a rubber stamp, and the army only obeys his orders. This is not the PLANT I know."

"Protect Lux." Char's voice lowered. "She is our hope for the future. Not as a politician, not as a soldier—but as a 'symbol of peace.' In this world filled with hatred, someone needs to sing."

A slight smile appeared on Higel's lips, a smile that reminded Char of the expression on Uzumi's face when he talked about his daughter.

"She's been singing your song 'Proof of Water' a lot lately. Although you haven't told her it was written by you, she says the melody sounds like it was written by 'Someone Who Understands War.' She says, 'The person who wrote this song must have seen death and also seen hope.'"

Xia was silent for a few seconds. "Tell her. Just say it was written by me as a gift; it's not a secret."

"She'll be happy."

After the communication ended, Char sat motionless in his chair for a long time. The moonlight outside the window was like water, spilling onto the cables of the rail elevator.

"Patrick Sara's speech reminded me of Kiren Zabi. Not because of their ideals, but because of their methods—uniting people with hatred, suppressing dissent with fear, and covering up contradictions with war. Kiren Zabi ultimately died at the hands of his own people. Not defeated by the enemy, but consumed by hatred. Patrick Sara will meet the same end."

"But before he falls, countless others will perish with him. That's the most despairing thing."

"You didn't sleep last night?" Erica stood beside him, holding two cups of coffee, and handed him one.

"She slept. For two hours."

Is that enough?

"That's enough. In wartime, two hours is a luxury."

Erica looked at his profile; his dark circles were obvious, but he seemed to be in good spirits, his deep red eyes still clear. "Last night's communications—bad news?"

"No. I just confirmed a few things."

"About Patrick Sarah?"

Char took a sip of coffee but did not answer.

Erica didn't press further; she had learned not to ask questions about things she didn't need to know. "Mina came by this morning. She asked me to tell you that the Sahak family will fully support whatever decisions you make next, no matter how risky. She also said, 'Don't worry about her.'"

Char turned to look at her, his gaze making Erica's heart skip a beat. She lowered her head, her ears slightly red. "I also have something for you to tell her," he whispered in Erica's ear. She looked up, her eyes wide. "Are you sure? She might blush if she hears it, no, she might—"

"What will happen?"

"I'll be very happy." Erica said, then turned and walked away quickly, her footsteps hurried, as if afraid she would turn back. Xia, holding his coffee, watched her retreating figure, a slight smile playing on his lips.

December 25th, Christmas Day. PLANT, Klein Mansion. Lux sat by the window in her room, holding a pink Haro in her arms, watching artificial snow slowly fall from the dome. PLANT has artificial snow every Christmas, but this year's snow looked particularly pale—perhaps the shadow of Junius VII still lingered, or perhaps the war had faded all colors.

The encrypted terminal lit up. A message from Orb, from Char Langlad Ashar.

"Miss Lux. Merry Christmas. Your father asked me to tell you that the melody of 'Proof of Water' is something I wrote based on my imagination of 'Rain of Peace.' Although there is no rain of peace in this world yet, at least someone is singing before it rains. Keep singing. Someone is listening."

After reading the message, Lux tightened her grip on Harlow's arm. The pink Harlow emitted a soft electronic voice, as if asking, "Are you alright?" She whispered to Harlow, "He's so gentle, despite his ruthless decisiveness on the battlefield and cold-bloodedness in politics. But what he says always makes you want to cry." She closed her eyes, the image of those deep red eyes flashing through her mind, the eyes that had stared at her for a few seconds when they first met at the Klein mansion, saying, "Your eyes are beautiful, like jewels." It wasn't a compliment, but a frank, selfless appreciation.

"...He's really interesting." Lux opened her eyes and replied on the terminal—"Commander-in-Chief Athha, Merry Christmas. 'Proof of Water' is beautiful. I will continue to sing it. Not to heal the war—but to ensure that those in war don't forget that they were once human."

After pressing the send button, she pressed the terminal against her heart. Artificial snow was still falling outside the window.

"Hello, when do you think the rain of peace will come?"

"Hello... Hello..." A thoughtful expression appeared on the pink Hello screen.

Lux smiled and hugged Harlow even tighter. "Maybe it will be a long time. But as long as we keep waiting, it won't be forever."

December 31, CE70, New Year's Eve. Orb, Dawn Society observation deck. Char stood here; this was the eighth year. Mina stood to his right, Erika to his left. The three of them stood side by side, gazing at the myriad lights of Orb City. They didn't speak, just stood quietly.

In the distance, the cables of the rail elevator gleamed silvery-white in the night. Further still, solar power platforms on the sea resembled a string of pearls. The shadow of war loomed over the entire world, but on this night, on this land, lights still shone.

"What will next year be like?" Mina broke the silence.

"The war will escalate, and many will die on both sides." Char's voice was calm, as if he were stating a weather forecast. "Orb will be caught in the middle. Perhaps someone will force us to choose sides, perhaps someone will try to invade us."

"Can you hold on?" Erica asked, looking at his profile.

Char was silent for a moment. "Yes."

"Why are you so sure?"

Char turned around and looked at the two women. Mina's red eyes gleamed with a deep crimson light in the night, while Erika's eyes reflected the city lights.

"Because you are here. Orb is not just me. There is every citizen who believes in Orb."

He gazed at the distant lights. "What one person can't do, a group can. What a group can't do, a generation can. We are not fighting alone."

Fireworks burst in the city's night sky.

Mina reached out and took his right hand, while Erica reached out and took his left. No words were spoken, only their hands were held.

The new year will bring more death and more hatred. But Char believes the seeds of peace have been sown. In Orb, in the Klein family, in the hearts of everyone who believes reason trumps impulse, and coexistence trumps hatred.

One day, the seed will sprout.