The smoke had barely begun to settle when the whine of servomotors echoed through the tunnel.
Lelouch turned calmly.
A Sutherland emerged from the shadows, its mono-eye glowing as it locked onto him. The Knightmare's rifle was raised, perfectly steady, its presence alone enough to dominate the confined space.
Inside the cockpit, Villetta Nu was shocked by the sight of the guards' dead bodies scattered all around the area.
Then she noticed the high school boy standing among the corpses.
"Don't move," she ordered. "Identify yourself. Now."
Lelouch raised his hands slowly, deliberately—not in fear, but in calculation.
"My name," he said evenly, "is Alan Spencer. Son of Marquis Spencer of the Homeland."
Villetta Nu stiffened.
The name had weight. He could see it in the way her posture shifted, ever so slightly.
"That's a bold claim," she said coldly. "What is a noble's son doing here?"
Lelouch allowed a hint of irritation to cross his expression—the kind born of privilege, not desperation.
"I was taken hostage during the chaos," he replied. "By terrorists. I escaped when the fighting began."
He met her gaze without flinching.
"I request protection under Britannian law."
Villetta studied him in silence. She remained ready to shoot, but doubt had crept in. A noble's son dying here would be… inconvenient.
"If you're lying," she said, "you'll die where you stand."
"Of course," Lelouch replied smoothly. "If you have any doubts, you're welcome to verify my identity."
He nodded toward his chest.
"My ID card is in my inner pocket."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, with a quiet click, the Sutherland powered down.
Villetta descended from the Knightmare, boots hitting the ground with practiced ease. She approached cautiously, eyes never leaving his face.
"Don't try anything," she warned.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Lelouch said with a faint smirk.
That was the moment.
Lelouch met her eyes.
The world narrowed.
The crimson sigil burned into existence in his left eye, absolute and inescapable.
"Villetta Nu," he said calmly, her name striking like a key turning in a lock,
"from this moment on, and for the rest of your life, you will place yourself at my service."
The Geass took hold instantly.
Her body stiffened. Her hand froze mid-motion. Then, slowly, she straightened, eyes unfocused yet attentive.
"…Yes," she answered. "I will serve you."
Lelouch stepped back, exhaling softly.
"Excellent," he said. "Give me your Knightmare and return to the Britannian lines. You'll receive further orders soon."
She obeyed without hesitation.
"As you wish, my lord. The password is XG2 IG2 D4."
"Perfect."
"One piece secured," he thought.
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The battle of Shinjuku unfolded much as it did in Lelouch's memories.
Outnumbered. Outgunned.
And yet, under Lelouch's command, the resistance moved with impossible precision. Traps were sprung at the perfect moment. Knightmares were isolated, ambushed, and destroyed. Britannian forces found themselves reacting instead of dictating.
When the Lancelot appeared, Lelouch instantly ordered his men to fall back. He didn't want them to risk their lives.
More specifically, he didn't want Kallen to risk hers.
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Lelouch, dressed as a soldier, entered Prince Clovis's headquarters without resistance. Behind him, a platoon of Geass-controlled soldiers followed.
Officers froze where they stood.
The command room buzzed with tension. Tactical screens displayed the aftermath of the battle. Prince Clovis stood rigid at the center, fury barely masking panic.
"What is the meaning of this?" Clovis demanded. "Who dares to enter the command center?"
He looked at Lelouch.
"…Lelouch?"
Lelouch smiled faintly.
"Brother," he said. "It's been a long time."
"Seize him!" Clovis barked.
The officers tried to obey—but they were a step too late.
Lelouch stepped forward, making deliberate eye contact with the officers lining the room.
The Geass ignited.
"From now on," he said calmly, "your loyalty will be mine—forever."
In an instant, resistance vanished.
Clovis staggered back.
"What have you done?" he whispered.
"Clovis," Lelouch replied. "You haven't changed. You remain exactly the same fool."
He closed the distance between them.
"You see, killing you would be a foolish move," Lelouch continued, his tone almost patient. "You are the governor of Area Eleven. Through you, Britannia controls this land."
He gestured toward the frozen officers.
"Through you, so do I."
Clovis shook his head.
"You can't possibly think—"
"I can," Lelouch cut in. "And I already have."
He met Clovis's eyes.
"You will rule Area Eleven in my name. You will follow my directives without question. And you will never betray me."
The Geass flared.
Clovis's will collapsed.
"…Yes," he breathed. "I will serve you."
Lelouch stepped back, satisfied.
He turned to the command staff.
"All of you will remain at your posts," he said. "You will follow my every order. And you will understand that your loyalty now lies with me."
They nodded as one.
Lelouch surveyed the room—the screens, the power, the machinery of empire laid bare.
"Tearing the system down is such a bother," he thought.
"While taking control of it… is so easy."
Area Eleven was no longer a battlefield.
It was his.