ZAFT's Secret Objective

Orb was not their main battlefield, merely a springboard for the two camps to fight over their respective "bargaining chips."

And perhaps this was the only lifeline Orb could grasp in its despair.

Within Orb's territorial waters, artillery fire violently intertwined between sky and sea. Shrapnel and beams tore through the air, staining the once-peaceful island nation in blood.

At the headquarters of the Orb Union, communications between Uzmi and Athrun Zala of ZAFT's special operations unit had already been cut off.

Athrun was currently on the bridge of ZAFT's flagship, the Kusto. It was an ocean of cold metal and precision instruments, with only the battlefield data continuously scrolling across the main screen reminding everyone aboard that a brutal war was underway.

A tense, killing atmosphere filled the bridge. Every ZAFT officer stood rigid, their eyes fixed upon the flagship's command center.

After cutting off the communication, Athrun Zala's expression had completely frozen.

His deep green eyes still glimmered with an almost piercing coldness, like ice in the depths of the sea, utterly devoid of emotional fluctuation. It was as though he were suppressing every ripple stirred within him by that communication with Cagalli—every feeling that belonged to "Athrun Zala," rather than a "ZAFT soldier."

His right hand was tightly clenched into a fist, his knuckles faintly whitening from the excessive force.

Without even turning around, he gave the man behind him—Captain Rau Le Creuset, who had stood silently at his side since the war began like a frozen phantom—a brief, clear order in the unquestionable tone unique to a soldier. Though Athrun was about to leave the battlefield, this order carried the fleet's highest decision-making authority.

"I'm deploying too. Captain Creuset, I'll leave fleet command... to you. You have full authority over all tactical arrangements from here on."