The Teyvat Orbital Elevator
Six Days Later – The Calm Before The Storm
The Blancheur, an Ousia-class carrier, drifted in the vast, endless expanse of the open ocean.
The usual hum of activity was gone.
The flight deck lay in silence.
No fighters warming up.
No deck crew moving with purpose.
No orders being barked across the comms.
Just... nothing.
The sun was sinking low, casting jagged, elongated shadows across the steel deck. The ocean stretched infinitely in every direction, its surface shifting with the rhythm of the waves. The gentle lapping of water against the hull was the only sound that accompanied the waiting crew.
But the Blancheur would not stay silent for long.
A new mission loomed on the horizon.
Operation Sovereign Shield.
The mission to rescue former President Imena.
The last known VIP to be present when the Teyvat Orbital Elevator fell to Snezhnayan forces.
And for Furina—
This mission meant more than just duty.
She stood alone on the viewing deck, her arms resting on the cold steel railing.
The wind howled around her, whipping strands of silver-blue hair into the air.
Her eyes were fixed on the horizon.
But her mind…
Her mind was stuck in the past.
Two Days After Operation Liberty – The Recovery
The aftermath of the failed offensive was worse than they had feared.
The first confirmed wreckage recovered—
Nocturne Two.
Calcagni's F/A-18.
The airframe had washed ashore on the Morozvyat Plateau, half-buried in cold, lifeless sand.
The tail section was intact.
The Nocturne Squadron insignia remained untouched—bold, defiant.
The number "02" was still clearly marked on the aft fuselage.
But the cockpit…
Mangled beyond recognition.
And inside…?
Calcagni was still strapped in her seat.
Her body frozen in its final moments.
A twisted, brutal mockery of what once was.
Furina exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the railing.
The metal groaned under her grip.
She gritted her teeth.
"She didn't deserve that…"
Then came Ianus Squadron.
There was nothing left.
No cockpits.
No bodies.
No wreckage big enough to recognize.
The Sepharis Bird's energy shield had disintegrated them all.
They never even had a chance.
Three Days Later – The Funeral at the Hero's Cemetery
After the wreckage was recovered, both Nocturne and Tidal Squadrons were ordered back to Charybdis Air Force Base.
For one day.
One day to bury their dead.
Eight pilots.
Seven empty caskets.
Eight lives stolen in an instant.
Furina remembered the formation.
How her breath had stayed steady.
But her hands trembled on the controls.
Nocturne Squadron was given the honor of performing the missing man formation—a final salute to their fallen.
And Furina was chosen to pull the maneuver.
They flew low, skimming the landscape at 350 knots.
A tight V-formation.
Lynette led.
Furina was positioned on her right wing.
The only Rafale in a sea of F/A-18s.
But in that moment, it didn't matter.
They weren't squadrons.
They weren't rivals.
They weren't pilots of different nations.
They were brothers and sisters in arms.
Lynette's voice came through the comms—calm, but heavy.
"Three… Two… One… Execute."
Furina slammed the throttles forward.
The M88 engines screamed, flaring as the Rafale punched through the sky—breaking away from the formation.
The others held steady.
But Furina was gone.
A single fighter, streaking upward.
A symbolic farewell.
A reminder that their fallen would never return.
Present Day – The Blancheur
Furina snapped back to the present.
The wind felt colder now.
She looked down at her gloved hands.
They were shaking.
She clenched them into fists.
Something inside her had changed.
This war…
This senseless bloodshed…
It had stolen something from her.
But it would not break her.
Her eyes burned.
Not with grief.
Not with fear.
But with fury.
She exhaled sharply, turning her gaze back toward the ocean.
The Blancheur would not stay silent for long.
And neither would she.
Operation Sovereign Shield was coming.
And this time—
Furina swore to herself.
No one else would die.
The weight of war had fully sunk in now.
And Furina had accepted it.
This is how it always is.
Someone you know will die.
But not in vain.
Never in vain.
She let out a slow breath, brushing a hand through her hair.
Her fingers trembled.
Not from grief.
Not from exhaustion.
But from anger.
Deep.
Unrelenting.
Unforgiving.
She had been holding it back.
Burying it under the weight of command.
But it was there.
Burning inside her.
"Accept it, Furina… this is war. And it won't end until someone ends it."
She closed her eyes briefly.
It won't end until we end it.
Nocturne Squadron had already begun to rebuild.
The 405th Tactical Fighter Squadron had reassigned Nocturne Two to Freminet.
Lyney and Lynette's younger brother.
Another pilot in the seat.
Another name on the roster.
But not a replacement.
Never a replacement.
Furina bowed her head, lost in thought.
Then—
Soft footsteps.
A quiet presence beside her.
Then—a familiar, soft voice.
"Hey…"
Furina didn't need to look.
She already knew who it was.
She sighed, her voice softer than usual.
"Hey…"
Lynette leaned against the railing beside her.
Her gaze locked onto the darkening horizon.
For a moment—neither of them spoke.
Just the ocean wind filling the silence.
Then—Lynette finally said it.
"Is it reeling in?"
Furina's grip on the railing tightened.
She nodded.
Her voice was quiet.
"Yes."
Lynette could hear it in her tone.
It wasn't just grief.
It was rage.
A storm boiling beneath her skin.
Furina shook her head, a sharp breath escaping her lips.
"Fuck… If I had changed my course and gone to support Calcagni, she'd still be here."
Her voice broke slightly.
Lynette didn't hesitate.
She placed a gentle hand on Furina's shoulder.
"Don't think like that, Furina."
Furina clenched her teeth.
"How can I not?"
Lynette sighed, her tone steady but firm.
"We were surrounded. The drones had us locked down."
"If you had left, you wouldn't have saved her—you would've just gotten yourself killed too."
"You had no other choice."
Furina pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose.
She inhaled sharply.
"Yeah. Yeah, right…"
Lynette stepped closer.
Her voice was softer this time.
"Listen to me… You still have us."
Furina lifted her gaze.
Lynette met her eyes.
"Me. Lyney. Freminet. The rest of Nocturne Squadron."
"We're still here."
Furina exhaled, steadying herself.
Then, she nodded.
"Right…"
Lynette gave her shoulder a small squeeze.
Then—she stepped back.
"Come on. Briefing's about to start. They're waiting on us."
Furina turned away from the ocean.
Without hesitation.
Without looking back.
The war wasn't over yet.
And she would fight until it was.
Moments Later – The Briefing Room
Furina and Lynette strode into the briefing room, their boots echoing against the steel floor. The dim lighting cast long shadows, save for the massive tactical display screen at the front, its eerie glow illuminating the gathered pilots. The air was thick with tension, an unspoken weight pressing down on everyone present.
Admiral Augereau stood at the center, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His gaze locked onto them the moment they entered—firm, assessing, unwavering.
The others were already seated, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, postures rigid with anticipation.
This wasn't just another mission.
This was the mission.
The one that could change everything.
No one spoke. No one shifted.
The silence was suffocating.
Then, with a single press of a button, the display screen flickered to life, showcasing a detailed 3D map of the Teyvat Orbital Elevator and the vast territory surrounding it.
A fortress.
Once a proud symbol of international unity and technological achievement, the towering structure now loomed under Snezhnayan control—a beacon not of progress, but of war.
Augereau wasted no time. His voice was steady, deliberate, but heavy.
"Alright. Now that everyone's here, let's begin."
The Briefing – A Mission Against the Impossible
The map zoomed in, outlining the massive structure of the Orbital Elevator, its shadow stretching for miles over the landscape.
"We're officially entering Phase Three of this campaign," the Admiral began, his sharp gaze scanning the room. "As proven in our previous operations, the Sepharis Birds have reinforced the enemy's anti-air network, making direct assaults nearly impossible. Our last attempt at securing airspace resulted in catastrophic losses—Ianus Squadron was completely wiped out. And yet, despite this setback, our mission remains the same."
He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.
"We need to reach the Orbital Elevator—no matter the fucking cost."
The weight of his words pressed down on everyone in the room.
Then, his eyes darkened slightly.
"Former President Imena is still there. And she's waiting for us."
A brief murmur rippled through the squadron.
For the first time in weeks, there was something that had been absent from every mission briefing since the war began.
Hope.
The display flickered again, a red circle marking the Elevator's core infrastructure.
"Intel confirms that Imena was inspecting the Elevator when the war broke out. When Snezhnayan forces stormed the facility, she was classified as missing in action. However—"
The screen changed, shifting to a transmission log. A static-filled image of a secure military frequency played across the screen.
"New intel suggests she is still alive. A military officer from her security detail managed to transmit a coded message before all comms were cut off. He claimed that she was hidden inside the elevator's secure sector before Snezhnaya took full control."
A tense silence settled over the room.
"That means she may still be inside, alive, and waiting for extraction."
A mixture of emotions rippled through the squadron.
Frustration. Determination. Anxiety.
They had lost so much in this war—so many friends, so many pilots.
But this was a mission that mattered.
This was a mission worth every goddamn risk.
Enemy Airspace – The Real Threat
The display shifted again, revealing a complex network of overlapping circles surrounding the Elevator.
Radar zones.
Each one representing a section of enemy-controlled detection range.
"As expected," Augereau continued, "Snezhnaya has fully militarized the region. Since securing the Elevator, they have deployed an extensive radar and anti-air defense system to prevent any sort of aerial infiltration. If we enter these zones, their defense squadrons will scramble instantly. If we are detected, we will be outnumbered, overwhelmed, and annihilated."
The room fell into dead silence.
Then, the map zoomed out even further.
And that's when everyone saw them.
Two massive, broken-line circles appeared, looming over the battlefield.
Nocturne Three tensed. *"Oh, fuck me…"
They all knew what those were.
The Admiral exhaled sharply.
"The Sepharis Birds."
Celestia.
Karatel.
Tension spiked in the room.
These were the monsters that had nearly wiped them out in Operation Liberty.
They had barely survived fighting one.
Now?
They had to deal with two.
Lynette clenched her fists.
"Those motherfuckers had these ready all along…"
Augereau's expression remained grim.
"If we get caught in their range, we're done. They will deploy an endless wave of MQ-101 drones to rip through our squadrons like paper. We cannot afford another massacre."
The map zoomed back in, now focusing on the northern coastline of Liyue.
"However," Augereau continued, "our reconnaissance teams have discovered a weakness."
A blue corridor appeared between Fontaine and Liyue—a narrow opening along the coastline.
"If we stay below the cloud cover, we can slip through undetected. The enemy's radar network has a blind spot over the water, allowing us to bypass most of their defenses."
The display updated again, now showcasing weather patterns over the region.
Scattered clouds. Rain.
A perfect natural cover.
"Flying through the clouds will mask our radar signatures, allowing us to get close enough without triggering alarms."
Then, Nocturne Three raised his hand.
"Who's leading the infiltration, sir?"
The room went still.
Augereau's eyes locked onto Furina.
"That will be Waltz."
The Tip of the Spear
Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to her.
The display updated again, revealing her insignia on the right side of the screen.
A dark blue circular emblem with a golden outline.
At the center—her Dassault Rafale M, its silhouette sleek and poised, pointing skyward.
Its contrail swooped into a flowing arc, seamlessly blending into her signature golden crown insignia.
She stared at it for a moment.
This was it.
This was her mission.
Nocturne Squadron and Cascade Squadron were depending on her to pave the way.
To break through enemy airspace.
To fucking make it happen.
The Admiral's voice was firm, unwavering.
"Waltz, your mission is to infiltrate enemy airspace and secure a landing zone. Your priority targets are the anti-air systems and radar installations surrounding the Orbital Elevator."
He continued.
"Once the enemy defenses are down, Nocturne Squadron and Cascade Squadron will move in to extract the former president."
A final pause.
The Admiral's gaze hardened.
"You're the tip of the spear, Lieutenant. You get in first. You pave the way. And when it's done, you bring them home."
Furina's grip tightened into fists.
Her heart pounded.
She could feel the weight of every pilot's gaze on her—some wary, some hopeful, some simply waiting to see if she would break under the pressure.
But her voice?
Steady. Confident. Unshaken.
"Understood, sir."
Augereau gave one last nod.
"Everyone, dismissed. Tidal Two, sortie immediately. Nocturne Squadron, stand by."
Furina took a breath and turned toward the hangar.
Her Rafale M was waiting.
And she had a war to win.
Controlled Chaos – The Final Moments Before Takeoff
The flight deck of the Blancheur was alive.
Controlled chaos.
Steam hissed from the catapults, veiling the deck in a thin mist. Crew members sprinted between aircraft, each movement honed by discipline, each action executed with razor-sharp precision.
Fuel crews worked swiftly, hoses locked in place as they topped off the jets. Pressure gauges flicked, signaling the last drops of fuel being pumped into the waiting machines.
Ordnance teams wove through the maze of aircraft, securing missiles, bombs, and ammunition—ensuring every plane was locked, loaded, and ready to bring hell.
Technicians moved with quiet urgency, running final diagnostics, tightening bolts, triple-checking that every system was flawless.
The carrier hummed with motion, an ecosystem of war preparing to unleash its might.
The sky was a deep, smoldering orange, the sun inching closer to the horizon. Soon, night would descend.
But she wouldn't be here to see it.
Furina walked with purpose, each step sharp, each movement precise.
Ahead of her, parked near the Blancheur's island, was her Dassault Rafale M—waiting.
Its sleek, deep blue frame shimmered beneath the deck lights, streaked with elegant gold trim.
It wasn't just a jet.
It was her jet.
Her weapon.
Her key to survival in the hell she was about to fly into.
She reached the ladder and climbed up, swinging herself smoothly into the ejection seat.
Everything after that was automatic.
A routine drilled into her bones.
Click. Harness tightened.
Click. Adjustment tabs pulled.
Click. Lap belt secured.
Strapped in.
The cockpit was already powered on, the APU humming softly in standby.
Her fingers moved across the MFD, flicking through the preloaded waypoints.
Home – The Blancheur.
Entry to enemy territory.
The Orbital Elevator.
Her mission, condensed into three simple points.
She exhaled. Reached for her helmet.
And hesitated.
Just for a second.
She turned it over in her hands, fingertips tracing the smooth surface.
This is it.
She was the tip of the spear.
The first one in.
Alone.
Then—footsteps.
Someone climbing the ladder.
She already knew who it was.
"Furina?"
She glanced up. "Lyney?"
He stopped at the edge of the canopy, one hand resting against the jet. His violet eyes carried something unspoken—concern, pride… maybe both.
He reached forward, giving her shoulder a firm pat.
"Good luck out there."
Furina nodded, gripping her helmet tighter. "Yes, sir."
Lyney smiled.
"Remember—don't think. Just do. Forget what happened in the past. Let's bring the President home…"
Then, he smirked.
"Ace."
A spark ignited in her chest.
She smirked back. "Yes, sir."
Lyney chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"Good luck, Waltz."
Then, without another word, he climbed back down.
Furina exhaled sharply and locked her helmet into place.
Her fingers found the canopy switch.
Press.
With a soft hiss, the canopy lowered, sealing her inside.
The world outside faded.
She was alone now.
Just her and the machine.
Her hand flipped the main electrical switch from STBY to RIGHT.
The right M88 engine spooled up. A deep whine filled her ears, the RPM climbing rapidly.
At 25% N2, she pushed the engine lever to IDLE.
A low roar as the turbine came to life.
She repeated the process for the left engine.
Soon—both M88 engines were humming in perfect sync.
She switched the system to NORM and keyed her radio.
"Tidal Two, ready to go."
The response was immediate.
"Tidal Two, taxi to Catapult One."
Furina inhaled deeply.
Then exhaled—slow, steady.
"Let's go."
She released the parking brake and nudged the throttle forward.
Her Rafale rolled ahead, slicing through the deck mist toward Catapult One.
Final Preparations – The Last Moments Before Flight
The Shooter crewman stood waiting, guiding her forward with precise hand signals.
She followed his commands to the inch, her nose wheel perfectly aligned with the catapult track.
A sharp hand signal—STOP.
She did.
Another—Lower the launch bar.
Her fingers found the switch. Click.
A soft whirr as the launch bar locked into the catapult system.
The deck crew swarmed in, securing her jet for launch.
She waited.
Then—her eyes drifted right.
Nocturne Squadron.
Tidal One.
All of them.
Watching her.
Cheering for her.
She was the spearhead of this mission.
The lone fighter piercing into the heart of enemy airspace.
Then—her final check.
Flight control test.
She didn't hesitate.
Her right hand snapped the sidestick up, down, left, right—full rotation.
Her feet worked the rudder pedals in perfect sync.
Outside—
The elevons shifted.
The canards twisted.
The rudders tilted.
All at once.
Instantly.
Lyney watched.
But this time—he wasn't just watching.
He was analyzing.
Something about Furina's Rafale was… off.
Not in a bad way.
Just… different.
His eyes locked onto her right hand.
Then the elevons.
The front canards.
The rudders.
They moved in perfect synchronization.
No delay. No buffering. Just… immediate reaction.
His heart skipped a beat.
"Could the fly-by-wire system in Furina's Rafale have… no delay?"
"If she snaps the sidestick up instantly… does it move instantly?"
"Is that her secret? The reason she can pull off those insane maneuvers?"
A chill ran down his spine.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
The Final Moment – The Launch
Furina glanced left.
The deck crew chief gave her a thumbs-up.
It was time.
She closed her eyes.
Inhaled.
The roar of the carrier faded.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Then—
A whisper in her mind.
"Don't think… just do."
She exhaled.
Her eyes snapped open.
Pure determination.
She turned toward the Shooter.
A sharp salute.
Then—she braced herself.
The Shooter returned the salute.
He dropped into position.
Furina slammed the throttles forward.
The M88 engines roared, twin blue flames erupting from the afterburners.
The catapult engaged.
A split second of silence—
Then—
Launch.
The Rafale shot forward.
A violent acceleration slammed her into the seat.
The deck vanished.
Then—she was airborne.
She climbed fast, hard, afterburners blazing against the darkening sky.
Below, Nocturne Squadron and Tidal One watched as she ascended.
Landing gear retracted.
Lynette whispered softly.
"May the wind guide you safely, Waltz."
The mission had begun.
Furina was on her own.
For now.
Breaking Through Enemy Lines
Twenty minutes.
That's how long it took for Furina to reach enemy territory.
The landscape below was darkened, a patchwork of forests, industrial sites, and vast plains. The sky stretched endlessly, an empty battlefield—silent, waiting.
She reached for her radar control, switching it to IFF mode.
Then—
Her screen lit up.
Red circles.
Each one a radar site.
Each one a threat.
Each one a reminder that one wrong move would end the mission before it even began.
Then, AWACS Zaytun chimed in, his voice calm but firm.
"You're entering enemy territory. Impose radio silence until you've cleared the enemy zone. Remember—if you get caught, abort the mission."
Furina gave a short nod, even though no one could see her.
"Wilco."
AWACS paused.
Then—his final call.
"Commence the mission."
Furina slammed the throttles forward.
Her Rafale M surged ahead, hugging the terrain.
Low. Fast. Silent.
She weaved between hills, dodging the enemy radar zones with razor-sharp precision.
Her hands were steady on the stick, her mind calculating every possible route, every risk.
Then—she spotted an opening to her left.
Her eyes narrowed.
A way through.
She banked ninety degrees right, the g-forces crushing against her as the jet followed the terrain like a ghost.
Beneath her, an international airport flashed by in seconds—a blur of lights and runways.
Then—another sharp ninety-degree turn.
Perfect execution.
Then, AWACS Zaytun crackled through.
"You're a third of the way, Waltz."
Furina didn't respond.
Radio silence.
She pressed on.
Suddenly—
The enemy frequency crackled to life.
"Any enemies in the sky?" A Snezhnayan commander's voice cut through the static.
A second voice responded.
"All clear, sir." A radar operator confirmed.
Furina kept her breathing steady.
Then—the commander gave an unexpected order.
"Alright. Shut down half of the radars. Keep the other half running."
Furina's eyes flicked to her radar.
Half of the red circles vanished.
A stroke of luck—or incompetence.
For a moment, there was a brief silence on the enemy frequency. A different operator hesitated.
"...Sir? Are we sure about this? Should we—"
"Do it. We need to conserve power."
Furina grinned.
The enemy had just cleared her a path—without even realizing it.
AWACS Zaytun, barely able to contain himself, spoke up.
"It's a good day! You can go straight to the Elevator, Waltz!"
She banked right—a sharp, high-G turn straight toward the target.
Ahead, silhouetted against the darkening sky, loomed the Teyvat Orbital Elevator.
A monument.
A fortress.
A battlefield waiting to erupt.
The mission was on track.
AWACS called it in.
"We're in the clear. Radio silence lifted. The helicopter will arrive shortly. Destroy the anti-air defenses."
Furina's grip on the sidestick tightened.
"Roger."
She yanked back on the stick, pulling the Rafale into a steep 60-degree climb.
At 5,000 feet, she rolled inverted—
Then dove straight down.
Her HUD locked onto six enemy anti-aircraft systems.
A quick sequence—target locked.
She squeezed the trigger.
Two LACMs launched.
The missiles detached with a sharp whoosh, their engines igniting a second later. A faint vibration ran through her jet as they streaked toward the targets.
She gave them a twenty-second interval between each.
"Fox Three!"
Then—she pulled back up, breaking away from the dive.
Below, the missiles struck their targets.
Fireballs bloomed across the enemy's defensive line.
AWACS called it in.
"Half of the enemy defenses are out! Keep it up!"
Furina climbed, then rolled over again.
Now—onto the other half.
Another dive.
Another lock.
She squeezed the trigger again.
"Fox Three!"
A moment later—another massive explosion.
AWACS crackled through again.
"All defenses are destroyed! Good work!"
Then, Nocturne Squadron's radio cut in.
Lynette's voice came first.
"The anti-air weapons aren't showing on the radar. What happened?"
AWACS responded, amused.
"Waltz took them out before you fellas even showed up."
Silence.
Then—
Freminet, Nocturne Two, spoke up.
"She took them out already!? That's impossible!"
Lyney's voice crackled in, laughing.
"That right there is Élégante. Et Efficace."
Lynette chuckled.
"Literally the title written beneath her canopy."
Furina smirked.
Mission success.
Then—
AWACS interrupted.
"Looks like the enemies have figured it out. They're prepping to launch drones in the city we flew over earlier. Take out the containers and any drones that escape!"
Furina's smirk vanished.
Time to move.
She slammed the throttles forward.
"Wilco. Heading that way!"
Lynette jumped in.
"Tidal One, Nocturne Two—follow Waltz's lead! Take out any drone containers and drones!"
"Tidal One, Wilco."
"Nocturne Two, Roger."
Lyney's F-35 and Nocturne One and Two's F/A-18s peeled away, turning toward the city.
Meanwhile, Nocturne Three, Four, and Five broke off, staying behind to provide air support for the landing helicopter.
Their IFF systems updated.
New targets.
Red markers.
Drones.
Containers.
Furina pushed forward at near Mach 1.
She blew past Nocturne Two, Nocturne One, and Tidal One in a blur.
Then—
A sharp, steep climb.
She climbed high—higher than necessary.
Then rolled inverted.
Diving attack.
Then—the container tops opened.
Inside, dark figures shifted.
Red lights blinked on.
Engines whined to life.
Then—launch.
AWACS Zaytun yelled into the radio.
"Eight bogeys! MQ-99 drones!"
Furina made the daring call without hesitation.
"Tidal One, Nocturne One, Nocturne Two—defend me! Take out the drones! I'll handle the containers!"
Their responses came instantaneously.
"Nocturne One, Roger!"
"Nocturne Two, Wilco!"
"Tidal One, Wilco! Let's turn and burn!"
The three fighters peeled off, engaging the swarm of hostile MQ-99 drones.
Furina focused.
The battle was just getting started.
The Extraction—A Fight Against Time
Furina, alone, lined up the first container.
Her HUD locked onto the target.
She squeezed the trigger.
An AGM missile streaked forward.
A heartbeat later—impact.
Fire and shrapnel erupted from the target, the explosion sending plumes of smoke skyward.
AWACS confirmed the kill.
"Container destroyed! Three to go!"
Furina didn't wait to celebrate.
She banked hard right, climbing sharply to reposition.
Her trajectory followed the shoreline—hugging the terrain at blistering speed.
Then—
"Tidal One, Splash One!"
"Nocturne Two, Splash One!"
The comms crackled as two more drones were downed.
That left six still in the air.
Then—
Disaster.
The radio erupted in sheer panic.
"We're under attack! We need close air support!"
"Get behind the chopper! Take cover!"
Furina's blood ran cold.
Hilichurl One—the rescue team—was taking heavy fire.
Snezhnayan ground forces had engaged them.
Her teeth clenched, jaw tightening.
"Just a little more!"
Her Rafale M streaked across the darkened sky like a bullet, afterburners glowing like twin blue stars.
Her HUD locked onto the second container.
She squeezed the trigger.
Another AGM missile rocketed off the pylon.
Direct hit.
A massive fireball erupted below, sending burning debris scattering across the ground.
"Two down! One to go!"
Her HUD immediately updated, marking the final drone container.
She shoved the throttle forward.
The container doors had just begun to open—drones launching skyward.
Not today.
She lined up the shot and fired.
Another AGM missile streaked forward, zeroing in on the exposed internals.
Impact.
A thunderous explosion.
The drone-launching mechanism detonated mid-operation. Mechanical arms twisted and snapped apart as flames engulfed the entire site.
She yanked back on the stick, pulling into a steep climb—shooting straight through the rising black smoke.
"All containers down!" AWACS Zaytun called out. "Now take the drones out!"
Furina didn't hesitate.
She throttled down and yanked her Rafale into a brutal 90-degree right turn, her body slamming into the seat from the sheer G-force.
Her vision momentarily blurred as she endured the crushing pressure.
Then—her HUD flickered with new locks.
Two drones.
One chasing Nocturne One.
One hounding Tidal One.
Her thumb flicked the weapon selector.
LRAAMs.
Her Rafale stabilized.
Tone.
Lock.
Fire.
"Fox Three!"
The missiles screamed off the rails.
A heartbeat later—impact.
Both drones exploded, their twisted remains scattering in fiery trails.
She shot past the wreckage, rocketing directly between Lyney and Lynette's planes.
Instinctively, they broke formation—Lyney banking left, Lynette banking right.
"Waltz!?" Lyney's voice cracked in disbelief.
Furina smirked.
"Considérez-vous chanceux, ma chère."
Lynette laughed.
"Thanks for the help!"
AWACS Zaytun's voice came through the radio.
"That's the last of the drones!"
For a moment—victory seemed near.
Then—
Disaster – The Loss of Hilichurl One
The radio erupted in chaos.
"INCOMING ROCKET! TAKE COV—"
A thunderous explosion.
Then—
Static.
Silence.
AWACS Zaytun's voice was urgent.
"Hilichurl One! Respond!"
Nothing.
Not even a whisper.
Then—a new voice crackled through the radio.
Calm. Rough. Steady.
"Anyone there? This is Colonel Volonté. The rescue unit is down, along with the soldier holding this radio."
Furina's grip on the sidestick tightened until her knuckles turned white.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
"I will get Ms. Imena out of here."
AWACS immediately responded.
"Colonel Volonté? Is there an aircraft nearby? Can you fly it out?"
A brief pause.
Then—Volonté's voice returned.
"There's a V-22 Osprey here. I flew these when I was stationed in Sumeru. We're taking it."
AWACS exhaled in relief.
"Roger. You're now callsign Meka One."
The Extraction—Escort Meka One
The Osprey's twin rotors spun up, its engines roaring to life.
The aircraft lifted vertically, then tilted forward, transitioning into forward flight.
AWACS updated the mission.
"All squadrons—escort Meka One!"
One by one, the pilots responded.
"Nocturne One, Wilco!"
"Tidal Two, Wilco!"
"Tidal One, Roger!"
"Nocturne Two, Roger!"
"Nocturne Three, Affirmative!"
"Nocturne Four, Roger!"
"Nocturne Five, Let's go!"
Furina banked hard, falling into escort formation alongside Lyney and Lynette.
Then—her radar screamed a new warning.
Multiple enemy contacts inbound.
Her eyes flicked to the display.
Fast-moving. High-altitude approach.
Dread crawled up her spine.
Then—AWACS called it in.
"NEW THREATS DETECTED! FIGHTERS INBOUND! HOSTILE INTERCEPTORS APPROACHING FAST!"
Furina's hands tightened around the controls.
She gritted her teeth.
"How many!?"
AWACS Zaytun's voice came back.
"Twelve bandits! All moving in from the northeast! Fast-movers!"
Lynette's voice cut in, sharp and tense.
"Shit! That's an entire goddamn squadron!"
Lyney's voice followed.
"They're gunning for Meka One!"
Furina took a deep breath.
She exhaled slowly.
Her voice was calm.
"Not on my fucking watch."
She shoved her throttles forward, her Rafale surging ahead.
"Tidal Two, engaging!"
Their formation tightened.
Below, Meka One cut through the sky, carrying Former President Imena and Colonel Volonté toward safety.
AWACS Zaytun's voice came through the radio, firm and focused.
"They're heading south toward the carrier. Provide air support!"
Furina's grip tightened around the stick.
"Understood."
She wasn't going to let anyone else die.
Not today.
Not ever again.
But just as they thought they had a clean escape—
The situation deteriorated fast.
Nocturne Three's voice cut through the comms, sharp with urgency.
"Zaytun! I got multiple bogeys inbound! Bearing Two-Six-Zero!"
Then—
Their worst nightmare.
AWACS Zaytun's tone shifted.
"Sighting confirmed! MQ-101s. The forefront of the Sepharis Bird!"
Furina's blood ran cold.
"Are you fucking kidding me!? That big-ass bird is heading our way!?"
Zaytun sighed heavily, his voice dark.
"Affirmative, Waltz."
Then, his voice hardened.
"But still. Defend Meka One at all costs!"
The Battle Begins – Meka One's Desperate Escape
The entire squadron tightened formation, converging around Meka One.
Their HUDs lit up red—a storm of enemy drones descended upon them.
Furina's eyes tracked movement ahead.
A drone streaked past her nose, banking hard to line up on the Osprey.
She flipped her Rafale violently, twisting her body into the maneuver, a brutal turn that pressed her deep into the seat.
Then—
"Meka One! Evasive maneuvers! Drone behind you!" AWACS Zaytun shouted.
Colonel Volonté grunted through the radio.
"I know! But this isn't a damn fighter!"
Furina lined up the drone in her sights.
She fired.
The Sidewinder screamed off its rail—and missed.
She cursed.
"For fuck's sake! Come on!"
She fired again.
Direct hit.
AWACS Zaytun called it in.
"Tidal Two, Splash One!"
But there were still too many.
An alarm blared in Furina's cockpit.
"WARNING! WARNING! MULTIPLE MISSILES INBOUND!"
Her blood ran cold.
Her HUD lit up with threat indicators.
Three enemy drones had broken through the defensive perimeter.
They were not just targeting her.
They were not just going after Nocturne Squadron or Tidal One.
They were also locked onto Meka One.
"SHIT!"
Volonté's voice cut through the comms, grim and urgent.
"Missiles incoming! We can't evade this!"
The Osprey was too slow, too heavy. It couldn't maneuver like a fighter.
They weren't going to make it.
Unless—
Furina shoved her throttle forward, afterburners igniting like twin suns.
She had mere seconds to react.
The first missile closed in.
She barreled forward, pushing the Rafale's engines to their absolute limit.
The G-force crushed her into her seat.
"Come on… come on… just a little more!"
The first missile was less than a kilometer from the Osprey.
She fired two flares—angled herself perfectly—then cut across its path.
The missile's seeker jerked toward her, losing its original target.
"MISSILE DECOYED!" AWACS confirmed.
One down.
Two left.
Her body screamed in protest as she twisted the jet into a high-G left break, whipping around toward the second missile.
"Waltz, what the hell are you doing!?" Lynette's voice crackled with panic.
"SAVING THEM!"
The second missile was closing in fast.
Furina's thumb hovered over the flare button—
But it wasn't enough.
"It's too late—!"
She slammed the stick left, hard.
The Rafale jerked sideways violently.
The missile nearly grazed her right wingtip.
A near miss.
She felt the impact shake her jet—but she was still flying.
"SECOND MISSILE DECOYED!"
Her breath came in ragged gasps.
One left.
The final missile was mere seconds away from Meka One.
Volonté was shouting over the radio.
"IMPACT IN THREE SECONDS!"
"TWO SECONDS!"
"ONE—!"
Furina did the unthinkable.
She rolled her Rafale violently, putting herself directly between the missile and Meka One.
Her right hand flicked the master arm switch.
Her left hand yanked the stick into a vertical nose-up.
Her jet was now facing the missile—head-on.
She had a single shot.
She squeezed the trigger.
"FOX THREE!"
Her last Sidewinder rocketed forward—
A heartbeat later—
A violent detonation.
The explosion lit up the sky.
AWACS called it in.
"DIRECT HIT! THE FINAL MISSILE IS DOWN!"
Time blurred.
Explosions filled the sky.
The squadron fought viciously against the onslaught of MQ-101s, the sheer number of targets overwhelming.
But the kill count kept rising.
Furina—13 confirmed kills.
Lynette—8 kills.
Lyney—5 kills.
Freminet—4 kills.
The rest—3 each.
They were barely holding the line.
Then—
A glimmer of hope.
AWACS Zaytun broke the tension.
"The Cascade Squadron has arrived! They'll be here in two mikes!"
Then—more good news.
Volonté's voice cut in.
"This is Meka One! We're about to exit enemy airspace! Keep those fingers crossed!"
Furina grinned through clenched teeth.
"Keep that power maxed out! We're almost home!"
She chased down two more drones, her Rafale twisting through the battlefield.
Her fingers squeezed the trigger—
Two Sidewinders. Two direct hits.
AWACS confirmed it.
"Waltz, Splash Two! Good work!"
Then—
Right on cue.
"This is Cascade One. The cavalry is here!"
Four F-14Bs thundered into the battle, their wings sweeping forward as they committed to the fight.
Missiles streaked from their hardpoints.
Eight LRAAMs. Eight direct hits.
The skies erupted in fireballs.
But—two dozen drones still remained.
Furina fought like a demon.
Her movements defied logic, her instincts sharper than the rest.
While Nocturne Squadron and Tidal One engaged head-on, she weaved through the fight like a phantom, attacking from unpredictable angles.
Then—
A warning scream.
"WALTZ! MISSILE INBOUND! EVADE!"
AWACS Zaytun's voice was sharp, urgent.
Furina smirked.
"Try me, asshole."
She slammed the throttles to idle.
Her hand snapped back on the stick—
The Rafale pitched into an impossible maneuver.
90 degrees.
120 degrees.
180 degrees—flying backward.
The missile sliced past her, missing its mark.
Her HUD flickered—LOCK-ON.
She fired.
"Fox Two!"
A Sidewinder roared off the rail.
The MQ-101 exploded mid-air.
As her Rafale completed the full 360-degree Pugachev Maneuver, she broke hard right, leveling out.
AWACS Zaytun confirmed it.
"Tidal Two, Splash One! Keep it up!"
The Cascade pilots were losing their minds.
"Did—did a Rafale just pull off a 360-degree Pugachev!?" —Cascade One.
"Who the hell is that!?" —Cascade Two.
Lyney's laughter crackled over the comms.
"Crazy good. She's Waltz. Tidal Two."
Cascade One sounded completely floored.
"She!? She's a girl!?"
Furina grinned.
"Bonjour, mon chéri~"
Then—
Disaster.
A drone broke past their defense.
A missile screamed toward the V-22 Osprey.
The impact was brutal.
A direct hit—right beside the cockpit.
Flames burst across the fuselage, thick smoke pouring from the forward section. The aircraft rocked violently, its flight path faltering.
Then—
Radio static.
Furina's breath caught.
"Shit—!"
Then—a voice.
Weak. Pained. Dying.
"I... I'm hit," Colonel Volonté rasped. His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath ragged and shallow.
Furina's blood ran cold.
"Please... save Ms. Imena..."
Then—
Silence.
AWACS Zaytun's voice came through, sharp and desperate.
"Colonel Volonté!? Colonel Volonté!?"
Nothing.
Furina's hands clamped onto the stick so tightly her fingers ached.
This couldn't be happening.
Not. Like. This.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She jammed the throttles to full power.
"Everyone—defensive formation around Meka One! We are NOT losing them!"
Her squadron reacted instantly.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Their aircraft banked hard, snapping into a layered defense around the wounded Osprey.
Then—a new voice crackled over the comms.
Shaky. Afraid. Desperate.
"Hello? Anyone?"
Furina's heart skipped.
It was her.
AWACS Zaytun responded immediately, urgency laced in his voice.
"Ms. Imena! Maintain heading! You're almost out of enemy airspace!"
A long silence. Then—a deep, broken sigh.
A whisper. Soft. Almost resigned.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
Furina's brow furrowed.
What?
Then—the unthinkable.
The Osprey suddenly banked hard.
A sharp 180-degree turn.
AWACS barked, his voice rising to a near shout.
"What are you doing, Madam President!? Turn around immediately! This is a danger zone!"
Then—Freminet's voice. Shaking.
"She's… she's heading back to the Orbital Elevator!"
Furina's stomach plummeted.
"What the hell is she doing!?"
The sky erupted into chaos.
Every last MQ-101 drone turned sharply, their formation snapping into a ruthless pursuit of the Osprey.
Then—the enemy radio crackled.
A cold, detached transmission.
"Sepharis Bird Celestia, passing Waypoint Two."
AWACS Zaytun's urgency spiked.
"Drones are right behind the Osprey! Take them out!"
Lyney's voice, sharp.
"Go get them, Waltz!"
Furina didn't hesitate.
She jerked the stick right, slamming into a brutal high-speed turn.
Her HUD flickered—red locks.
Two drones.
Both gaining fast.
Weapon selector—LRAAMs armed.
Target locked.
She fired.
"Fox Three!"
The missiles streaked toward their targets—
Then—
The Inevitable.
A flash.
A fireball.
Furina's eyes widened.
No. No, no, no—
The Osprey erupted into flames.
A sickening, fiery explosion tore through the sky, the right wing shearing away. The fuselage twisted violently, engulfed in flames.
Then—
The plunge.
Burning wreckage spiraled down, smoke trailing, vanishing beneath the waves.
Furina barely registered her own scream.
She scanned frantically.
No parachutes.
No movement.
Nobody survived.
Then—the radio exploded.
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Cascade Two's voice was raw with fury.
"That was a friendly! Who fired that missile!?"
A second voice. Raging. Accusing.
"Tidal Two fired that!"
Furina's blood turned ice cold.
Her hands froze on the stick.
"What…?"
Cascade One's voice cut through the comms like a blade.
"Waltz. You fired that missile."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"I didn't fire that!" she snapped, her voice sharp, almost frantic.
Her mind raced, replaying the last few seconds in a desperate loop.
"I was locked onto a drone behind the aircraft! That missile wasn't mine!"
Then—the drones suddenly peeled away.
Every last MQ-101 disengaged.
Like their job was done.
Like they didn't need to fight anymore.
Like this had been intentional.
AWACS Zaytun's voice cut through the static.
"Tidal One. Did Waltz fire the missile?"
A suffocating silence.
Lyney hesitated.
"I… I saw the explosion by the rear. But Waltz was the closest."
No.
Lynette's voice came fast. Steady.
"The Osprey was swarming with drones! It was a game of hit or miss! It wasn't intentional!"
Then—
A new warning.
Furina's radar blared.
A massive radar signature flooded her HUD.
A shadow loomed overhead.
Nocturne Five's voice cracked through the comms.
"EVERYONE! THE BIG BIRD IS HERE!"
AWACS didn't hesitate.
"All units, withdraw immediately!"
The Cascade Squadron broke off, banking east.
Nocturne and Tidal Squadron turned south, racing toward the carrier.
But—the Sepharis Bird Celestia was closing in from the north.
They had to run.
The squadron instinctively tightened formation.
Like they were shielding her.
Like they were protecting her from what had just happened.
Then—
AWACS Zaytun spoke again.
His voice was quieter now.
Softer.
Almost… apologetic.
"Waltz… I'm sorry. But as per protocol… you might not be flying for a while. I hope you understand."
Furina stopped breathing.
Her hands trembled against the sidestick.
Her vision blurred.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Her mind raced.
Had she…?
Had she really…?
Had she killed the Former President?
No. No, no, no—
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Then—Lyney's voice.
Quiet.
Shaken.
"Furina…"
She didn't respond.
She couldn't.
Because for the first time in her life...
She wasn't sure if she was innocent.
The Return – A Hollow Victory
The carrier's main deck was alive with motion.
Deck crews rushed across the flight deck, guiding returning aircraft into their designated spots.
Fighters were refueled, weapons were checked, and systems powered down.
But one pilot remained motionless.
Furina.
She sat frozen in her Rafale, her helmet limp in her lap.
Her hands trembled. Her entire body shook.
She couldn't move.
She couldn't think.
Her breathing was shallow.
Her mind looped the same sequence over and over.
The explosion.
The wreckage spiraling down.
The fireball swallowing everything.
The splash.
It might be over.
Her flying career.
Her freedom.
Maybe even… her life.
The sounds of the deck faded into a distant, hollow hum.
Everything felt far away.
Unreal.
"Waltz?"
A voice.
She didn't react.
"Waltz?"
Then—louder.
"FURINA!"
She gasped.
Her eyes snapped up.
Lyney and Lynette stood beside her Rafale, their faces shadowed with concern.
Furina blinked rapidly, her breath uneven.
Lyney sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
Lynette reached up, gripping the ladder of the Rafale.
"Come on. Get down."
Furina nodded slowly, barely responding as she climbed out of the cockpit.
Her movements were stiff. Almost mechanical.
She should have felt relief being back on solid ground.
But she didn't.
She felt sick.
Lynette and Lyney stayed close, supporting her as they led her toward the briefing room.
Minutes Later – The Briefing Room
The room was packed.
Pilots. Officers. A video call with Cascade Squadron.
Everyone was watching.
The debrief began.
The mission timeline played on the screen, cold and factual.
Then—Admiral Augereau stepped forward.
His expression was unreadable.
His voice was heavy.
"The operation to rescue Former President Imena was a failure."
A wave of silence swept the room.
"There is no hope that anyone survived."
Then—he turned.
And looked straight at Furina.
Her heart stopped.
"Waltz. You are suspected of assassinating Former President Imena."
A cold wave of dread washed over her.
Her stomach twisted.
"There will be an inquiry on this."
"There may also be a court-martial."
The words hit like a missile.
Furina didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
The room felt smaller.
The air felt thicker.
Then—a sigh.
"You are to be grounded indefinitely until the inquiry is concluded. Flight data from all aircraft involved will be analyzed."
The admiral's eyes didn't leave her.
"Additionally, the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force has requested full access to mission telemetry and radio logs. They will determine if this was pilot error… or something more deliberate."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then—the admiral turned on his heel and walked out.
His expression never changed.
Then—the room exploded into murmurs.
But not in anger.
Not in accusation.
The pilots around her weren't looking at her with hatred.
They were looking at her with support.
Nocturne Three spoke first.
"This isn't your fault." His voice was firm.
"Anyone could have missed the drone. The way those MQ-101s move… even the best of us could have miscalculated."
Nocturne Five nodded.
"Even ace pilots don't hit a perfect missile lock every time. Those things are a nightmare."
Then—Lyney pulled up a chair beside her.
"Furina." His voice was steady.
"We'll be there to defend you."
Lynette sat on her other side.
"That's right." She gave a slight nod.
"You didn't want this to happen. And we know it."
Furina stared ahead.
Silent.
Expression unreadable.
Then—she slowly stood up.
And walked out.
The Viewing Deck – Midnight
The night was calm.
The sea below glistened beneath the moonlight, the surface smooth like glass.
But Furina's mind was a storm.
She stood at the edge of the viewing deck, gripping the railing.
Her knuckles were white.
She was a suspect.
A murderer.
Her stomach twisted.
Her mind raced.
What if she really did do it?
What if she had actually killed the former president?
The thought made her sick.
Then—footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
She glanced sideways.
Admiral Augereau.
He let out a long sigh, resting his hands on the railing beside her.
"Furina…"
She didn't respond.
Didn't even look at him.
The admiral watched her for a moment, then exhaled slowly.
"I know you didn't mean to do it."
Still—nothing.
Augereau's tone softened.
"It was 50/50 at that point. It could've been anyone. I'll do what I can to help you… but with the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force investigating…"
He shook his head.
"It's going to be hard."
A pause.
Then—quieter.
"If not… impossible."
He placed a firm hand on her back—a silent gesture of reassurance.
Then, he walked away.
Leaving her alone.
And that's when—
It broke her.
Her eyes burned.
Her chest tightened.
Her vision blurred.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Her hands trembled against the railing.
A sob ripped from her throat.
Her shoulders shook violently.
She bowed her head, whispering through the anguish.
"Wh-Why… Why me…?"
Her voice cracked.
"I… I'm done for."
She clutched her arms, trembling.
The harsh reality settled deep into her bones.
She was the closest.
She had fired two missiles near the Osprey.
She knew they hit the drone.
But if that was true…
Then who fired the third missile?
Who really killed Ms. Imena?
It was anyone's game now.