Eliminate The Karatel
The Strike Against the Karatel
Nine Days Later...
Iron Gale Airbase was alive with motion.
Both Primordial and Waltz Squadron's hangars buzzed with energy, filled with the rhythmic clatter of tools striking metal, the hum of fuel pumps, and the sharp chatter of mechanics working at breakneck speed.
Every aircraft was being meticulously checked, rearmed, and fueled to perfection. Ground crews moved like a well-oiled machine, ensuring that no bolt was loose, no system unchecked.
Today's mission was different.
This wasn't just another strike.
This was a turning point.
The objective?
Destroy the Sepharis Bird—The Karatel.
A flying fortress of war, armed with classified energy weaponry, an adaptive defense system, and a barrier shield that had already claimed far too many lives. It was untouchable by conventional means, its presence alone a symbol of Snezhnayan aerial supremacy.
But today?
Today, it would fall.
And the key to its destruction lay in the Oprichnik's Judgment—an ancient railgun complex buried deep in the frozen ruins of Boreal Bastion.
This would be their deadliest mission yet.
Failure wasn't an option.
The History of the Oprichnik's Judgment
The Oprichnik's Judgment wasn't just a railgun complex—it was a relic of war, an instrument of devastation built in an era where borders were fragile, and war was inevitable.
Constructed in the early 2000s, it was once the pinnacle of long-range strategic defense. At its peak, it housed eight massive railguns, each capable of striking high-orbit targets and obliterating threats before they could ever reach the surface.
But war changed everything.
During the Celestial Rebellion War, a rogue faction sought to seize control of the complex, intending to use its devastating power to wage war on the nations of Teyvat.
Before they could succeed, a legendary unit was deployed—
Stormhawk Squadron.
A squadron of elite pilots flying F-22 Raptors.
They struck with precision and fury, tearing through enemy forces before crippling the entire complex. In a daring assault, they destroyed Railguns One, Two, Three, Five, Six, Seven, and Eight, ensuring that the Oprichnik's Judgment could never be used for tyranny.
But victory came at a cost.
A massive asteroid impact struck the northern wall of the complex, burying it beneath tons of ice and debris. The once-mighty fortress became a frozen tomb, lost to time.
Until now.
Five days ago, a coalition force from Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, Fontaine, and Natlan launched a daring assault on the ruins.
The battle was brutal.
They suffered a 38% attrition rate, fighting tooth and nail to secure the battered remains of the facility. But despite the overwhelming odds—
They won.
Now, engineers had worked around the clock to revive the only operational weapon left standing—
Railgun Four.
And today?
That railgun was going to fire.
Straight into the heart of the Karatel.
The Briefing Room – Iron Gale Airbase
The air inside the briefing room was thick—heavy with tension, heavier with expectation.
The pilots of Waltz and Primordial Squadron sat in silence, their gazes locked onto the holographic display flickering to life before them. The faint hum of the projector filled the otherwise still room, the only sound aside from the rhythmic clicking of boots shifting against the floor.
At the front of the room, Jean Gunnhildr stood tall, her expression unreadable. She let the silence linger for just a moment longer, then took a measured breath and spoke.
"Alright, listen up."
The room held its breath.
Jean gestured toward the strategic map now fully displayed—a vast terrain of red-marked zones, contested airspace, and deep enemy entrenchments. The scars of war were drawn in harsh, unforgiving lines.
"Our counteroffensive in the last operation has completely changed the war's trajectory. Allied forces have pushed past the frontlines, reclaiming critical sectors across Mondstadt, Liyue, and Fontaine. We now have air superiority in most regions, and ground forces are advancing into mainland Snezhnaya."
The map shifted, a new marker blinking on the digital display.
"However, the area surrounding the Teyvat Orbital Elevator remains in enemy hands. As long as the Sepharis Bird—Celestia—remains airborne, any attempt to take the elevator is suicide."
A new overlay appeared, outlining two distinct flight paths—one forming a tight circle around the elevator, the other stretching wider across the northern front. Two lingering threats. Two unstoppable war machines still dominating the sky.
The Celestia.
The Karatel.
Jean's expression darkened, her voice growing sharper.
"So, we're going to use the Oprichnik's Judgment to take down the Karatel."
Silence.
A single statement—yet its weight was immeasurable.
Furina's fists clenched, her jaw tightening.
Her mind drifted back—Operation Liberty.
Ghosts of the Past: Operation Liberty
She wasn't Waltz One back then.
She was Tidal Two—Lyney's wingman.
Their target? The Sepharis Bird's primary engines.
She and Lyney had struck the two main propellers.
Lynette—Nocturne One—had taken out the six sub-propellers.
A perfect strike. Textbook.
And yet—
The sky went red.
Like a terrible wound splitting open, the Sepharis Bird's energy ring—once a calming blue—flared into a blinding, bloody crimson.
Then—
The hum.
A deep, mechanical rumble, unnatural and earth-shaking, something that felt wrong.
The urgent voice of AWACS Zaytun over the radio—
"EVERYONE! BREAK AWAY FROM THE SEPHARIS BIRD! I REPEAT—BREAK AWAY!"
The panic.
The pure terror in those words.
Then, she saw it.
The pulse.
An expanding shockwave of raw, concentrated energy. Unstoppable. Unrelenting. Monstrous.
Anything caught inside was simply… gone.
No debris.
No wreckage.
No parachutes.
Just—
Gone.
Ianus Squadron's F-16s—erased in an instant.
Furina's breath hitched. Her fingers trembled.
The Present: The Final Plan
Jean's voice snapped her back.
"Furina? You okay?"
She blinked—too fast, forcing her hands to steady.
"Y-Yeah... I'm fine."
Jean studied her for a moment before giving a curt nod.
"Alright. Back on track."
The holographic display changed, zooming in on Boreal Bastion—where the Oprichnik's Judgment lay buried beneath the ice.
"Not only was the Oprichnik's Judgment originally designed for asteroid interception, but it was also a key asset in past conflicts. However, we have one major issue—only Railgun Four is operational."
The display shifted once more—Snezhnayan forces moving in fast.
Jean's tone sharpened.
"Our mission is twofold.
Defend Railgun Four at all costs.
Maintain air superiority while providing CAS for Sentinel Ground Forces.
And there's more."
Jean exhaled slightly before delivering the final piece.
"The officer in charge of the railgun's operation isn't sure if it can fire more than once."
A chill swept through the room.
One shot.
That was all they had.
Jean's voice remained steady.
"In other words… we only get one chance to take down the Karatel. If we fail, the Sepharis Bird will retreat, and we will have lost our best opportunity to cripple the Snezhnayan war machine."
The room felt colder.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Jean's gaze swept across the gathered pilots, her eyes sharp as steel.
"Snezhnayan forces have already detected our presence at the complex. They're mobilizing everything they have to stop us. Expect waves of interceptors, drone swarms, and rotary-wing reinforcements. Their intent is clear—they know we're coming for their flagship.
This will be an endurance battle."
She took a step forward, her presence commanding.
"The ground forces at the complex will operate under the callsign Sentinel. They are our allies. They are holding the line.
We are their shield.
We are their sword.
We do not let them down."
A final pause.
Then—Jean shut off the display.
She grabbed her helmet.
"Alright, everyone. Let's head out and sortie."
The Walk to War
Chairs scraped back.
The pilots stood.
Gloved hands tightened around helmets. Flight suits were adjusted. Boots fell into step.
Some exchanged quick nods.
Some said nothing at all.
This wasn't the time for words—this was the time for action.
As they strode toward the apron hangars, the roar of jet engines in idle filled the air—a symphony of power, of purpose.
Furina and Jean were the last to leave.
Furina exhaled slowly, the weight of the mission settling deep in her chest.
One shot.
One chance.
No margin for error.
This time—
They wouldn't fail.
Moments Later – Iron Gale Airbase, Apron
The deep, guttural growl of jet engines idling reverberated across the tarmac, a heavy reminder of the power coiled within each machine. The early morning air carried a sharp chill, made all the more biting by the overcast sky above—a thick layer of gray clouds diffusing the sun's light, casting the base in a muted, almost solemn glow.
Yet the airfield was alive. Ground crews moved with efficient urgency, running last-minute diagnostics, loading ordnance, and ensuring every aircraft was ready for war. Pilots, clad in flight suits, made final pre-flight checks. The tension was thick, a silent understanding hanging over everyone present.
This wasn't just another mission.
This was the mission.
Jean and Furina walked side by side, their boots striking a steady rhythm against the concrete. The sound was swallowed by the ever-present hum of activity, but Jean wasn't focused on that. She stole a glance at Furina.
There it was—that distant look in her eyes.
Something was weighing on her.
Without hesitation, Jean reached out, placing a firm yet steady hand on Furina's shoulder.
"Furina? Are you okay? You tensed up back in the briefing room."
Furina exhaled, slow and measured, as if willing something away.
"Just… bad memories, that's all."
Jean frowned slightly. "Mind telling me what happened?"
Another sigh. This one heavier.
Ghosts of the Past: Operation Liberty
Furina's gloved fingers tightened around her helmet, leather creaking under the pressure of her grip.
"Back then, I was still part of the Fontaine Air Force—the Armée de l'Air 405th Squadron."
Jean's eyes widened slightly. "You mean… Nocturne and Tidal Squadron?"
Furina nodded. "Yeah…"
A sharper breath. A scar reopening in her mind.
"We already fought the Sepharis Bird. The Karatel. During Operation Liberty."
Jean said nothing—letting her speak.
"Our objective was to cripple its propulsion system. Lyney and I went for the two main propellers. Lynette targeted the six sub-propellers."
She swallowed.
"We took them out. But it didn't matter… it was still operational."
Then—her breath hitched.
Jean knew what was coming next.
"Then… the Karatel deployed its shield."
Jean's expression darkened.
"You saw it happen, didn't you?"
Furina nodded slowly.
"Ianus Squadron was breaking away after trying to disable its defenses. They were clear when… the shield expanded."
Silence.
Furina's voice barely rose above a whisper.
"They were vaporized. Just like that. No wreckage. No ejections. Just… gone."
Jean's chest tightened.
She had lost good people before. She knew that grief—that weight. The weight of carrying the dead on your shoulders.
After a long pause, Jean stepped closer.
Then, she wrapped a reassuring arm around Furina's shoulder.
"Listen, Furina… I know how much it hurts to lose your squadron. But this?"
Furina turned her head slightly, meeting Jean's gaze.
"This is your chance."
Jean's grip tightened slightly—not out of force, but conviction.
"Your chance to avenge them. To take down the Karatel once and for all."
Furina swallowed hard.
"R-Right…"
Jean smiled, lifting her arm and giving Furina a firm pat on the back.
"Go get 'em, Ace."
Furina froze.
Ace.
She hadn't heard that in so long. Not since she flew with Nocturne and Tidal Squadron.
A wave of nostalgia and fire washed over her.
She clenched her fists.
"Wilco, Dandelion."
Jean gave her a knowing nod before turning toward her own hangar, heading for her F-15E Strike Eagle.
Furina stood there for a moment.
Then, she turned left—toward Hangar One.
The Final Preparations – Rafale Evolution, Hangar One
Inside the hangar, her Dassault Rafale M Evolution awaited.
Sleek.
Elegant.
Lethal.
A machine of war.
Her machine.
She stopped by the nose gear, dropping to one knee.
Bowing her head.
"This one's for you, Ianus Squadron. I won't let you down."
A moment of silence.
Then, she rose to her feet—a renewed fire burning in her chest.
With a single, fluid motion, she climbed the integrated ladder and settled into the ejection seat.
Harness secured.
Helmet on.
Oxygen mask locked.
A sharp hiss—the canopy sealed shut.
Furina's blue eyes flicked over the instrument panel. Every gauge. Every switch. Every system check.
Her hand reached for the main electrical knob—switching it from STBY to RIGHT.
A low whine filled the cockpit as the Right M88 engine began to spool up.
25% N2…
40%...
Stable.
Her hand moved to the engine management lever.
CUTOFF → IDLE.
The M88 engine roared to life, stabilizing at idle.
She repeated the process for the Left engine.
Both turbines hummed steadily—her heartbeat synchronized with the Rafale's pulse.
She clicked her radio.
"Waltz Squadron, callsign check."
One by one, the responses came.
Clorinde: "Waltz Two, checking in."
Wriothesley: "Waltz Three, checking in."
Eula: "Waltz Four, checking in."
Collei: "Waltz Five, checking in."
Outside—Primordial Squadron was already taxiing.
One by one, their F-15E Strike Eagles rolled onto the runway threshold.
The last Strike Eagle passed by.
Furina eased the throttle forward, her Rafale Evolution gliding out of Hangar One.
"Waltz One, taxiing."
One by one, her squadmates followed.
Engines growling.
Jet wash distorting the air behind them.
Ten fighters.
Five from Waltz Squadron.
Five from Primordial Squadron.
Lined up.
Waiting for clearance.
She inhaled—deep. Focused. Ready.
Then—the radio crackled.
"Waltz and Primordial, you are cleared for takeoff. Winds 250 at 10 knots. Cleared unrestricted climb to FL250."
Jean's voice followed—calm. Steady. Commanding.
"Primordial Squadron, rolling."
One by one, the F-15E Strike Eagles roared down the runway.
Then—her turn.
Furina tightened her grip on the throttle.
"Waltz Squadron, let's go."
She pushed forward.
The Rafale Evolution surged ahead, twin M88 engines screaming.
140 knots…
160 knots…
180 knots…
"Rotate."
She pulled back on the stick.
Her Rafale lifted off—leaving the ground behind.
The land shrank.
The clouds parted.
Ten fighters soared into the sky.
Engines roaring.
Weapons primed.
Mission set.
They were heading toward Oprichnik's Judgment.
Toward battle.
This time—
They wouldn't fail.
Operation Thunderstrike – Air Support Engaged
The Arrival – Oprichnik's Judgment Under Siege
It had taken an hour and fifteen minutes to reach the battlefield—delayed slightly by the mid-air refueling process.
But now?
Now, they had arrived.
And the Complex was already under siege.
Furina's eyes flicked across the HUD, her gloved hands tightening around the throttle and stick as she scanned the battlefield below.
The fortress-like installation sprawled across the frozen wasteland, its massive circular walls standing tall despite years of war. The gaping crater in the southern section—the scar left by an asteroid impact decades ago—had become the weak point in its defenses.
And the enemy knew it.
From above, waves of enemy troops flooded in, storming through the fractured breach, clashing violently with Sentinel ground forces. Gunfire, tracer rounds, and artillery shells lit up the battlefield, turning the icy wasteland into a blazing inferno.
But even more daunting—
Seven out of eight railguns were nothing more than shattered husks, their barrels twisted and broken beyond repair.
Only Railgun Four remained standing—its massive barrel aimed toward the heavens, waiting…
Preparing.
As Waltz Squadron and Primordial Squadron streaked into the combat zone, a familiar voice crackled over the radio—sharp, commanding.
"Attention all allies. Air support has arrived. But to get Railgun Number Four online, I need one thing from both aerial and ground units: time."
The voice belonged to Major Chevreuse of the Fontaine Special Forces.
Then, another voice—urgent, charged with battle energy.
"That is Major Chevreuse of the Fontaine Special Forces. I'm Specialist Xilonen from the Natlan Special Forces. Commencing operation to take down the Karatel!"
Furina exhaled, steadying her breath. No hesitation.
"Waltz Squadron, spread out and eliminate all enemy ground forces attacking the Sentinels!"
Jean's response was immediate.
"You heard her! Waltz, break and spread out!"
With that, both squadrons peeled off in separate attack vectors—an intricate aerial ballet of war.
Air-to-Ground Assault – Clearing the Complex
Eula's voice crackled through the radio as she banked left.
"So this is the infamous Railgun Complex… It's bigger than I imagined. Gives off a creepy abandoned aura too."
Mavuika scoffed.
"And those massive cables… Are they seriously running this thing on generator trucks?"
Jean responded, steady and calm.
"Yeah. Ever since the last war with the rebels, power was cut off from the complex. The Teyvat Peacekeeping Force has been secretly repairing Railgun Four for this exact moment."
But Furina wasn't listening.
Her gaze locked onto her first target—an armored column converging on Sentinel Seven like vultures descending on carrion.
Two tanks. An APC. An AA turret.
The latter caught her attention. That could be a problem.
She flicked her master arm to bomb mode. HUD reticles adjusted, locking onto the cluster below.
Lock. Tone.
"Bombs away!"
The Rafale shuddered as two Mk.82 bombs detached from the pylons, tumbling for mere seconds before erupting into a firestorm of destruction. The blast wave sent shattered metal and flames rocketing skyward.
Furina yanked the stick back, pulling into a sharp climb to escape the concussive shockwave.
The radio crackled—AWACS Visionaire's voice cutting in mid-chew.
"Oh! Sorry, Waltz. I was munching on a sandwich—damn, that was a direct hit!"
Furina smirked, adjusting her heading.
"Glad you remembered!"
Below, Sentinel Seven's forces were taking full advantage of the chaos, pushing back against the enemy with renewed force.
But they needed more.
Another target.
She rolled the Rafale, aligning for a second pass.
A howitzer, flanked by enemy armor.
Lock. Tone.
"Bombs away!"
The payload struck dead-on. The howitzer erupted in flames, its ammo stockpile detonating in a chain reaction that sent enemy vehicles reeling.
A new voice came over the radio—a Sentinel commander, his voice strained but determined.
"Thanks for the close air support! We're in the clear!"
AWACS Visionaire confirmed.
"That's one down, Waltz. Good work."
But before Furina could respond, something caught her attention—a rapid beeping in her cockpit.
Incoming radar lock.
Enemy Response – AA Counterattack
"Missile launch, missile launch!"
Her RWR screamed as an enemy SAM site lit her up.
Furina jerked the stick left, rolling into a high-G break turn.
The Rafale's frame groaned under the stress, her vision tunneling slightly from the G-force.
"Flare, flare!"
She stabbed the countermeasure button, and a burst of flares erupted behind her, brilliant white streaks against the night sky.
The missile veered—detonating just short of her tail.
"Shit," Furina exhaled. "They've still got active AA sites—watch yourselves!"
Jean's voice cut in.
"Acknowledged! Primordial Squadron, let's clean up those launchers!"
"On it!" came Primordial Five's response, followed by a streaking AGM-65 Maverick that slammed into the offending missile battery.
The Railgun's Countdown Begins
"Primordial Five, direct hit!"
"Primordial Two, direct hit!"
"Waltz Three, APC down!"
"Waltz Five, enemy tank eliminated!"
The battle raged on.
Then—another voice. Urgent. Pressing.
"Main systems functioning!"
It was Major Chevreuse.
"Get the gun prepped and set up!"
Xilonen's voice echoed in the background.
"Yes, ma'am! The gun is almost ready—final checks in progress!"
Chevreuse exhaled hard.
"Good. We just need one damn shot to take it down."
Furina locked onto another APC and a tank.
Lock. Tone.
"Bon voyage!"
Another explosion. Another target down.
AWACS Visionaire confirmed.
"Target destroyed, Waltz!"
Collei's voice spiked with urgency.
"I've got additional hostiles on my radar! Fantastic timing!"
AWACS Visionaire's voice followed immediately, his usual casual tone replaced with sharp focus.
"Waltz Five is right. We've got incoming bombers, bearing 140!"
Furina snapped her head left, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"Waltz One, engaging bombers!"
Collei instinctively fell into formation.
"Waltz Five, supporting Waltz One—on your six!"
A new transmission from the ground cut in—frantic, on edge.
"Major! This is not looking good! 60% green, 20% yellow, 20% red!"
Chevreuse cursed under her breath.
"Well, this hunk of junk has been sitting here for twenty-five years—I'm not surprised it's glitching. Deal with the reds and yellows, then update me!"
"Roger!"
Furina pushed the throttle forward, her Rafale accelerating toward the enemy bombers. Within moments, their massive airframes filled her HUD—three TU-95s flying in tight formation, preparing for an aerial bombardment run.
No chance.
"Alright, Waltz Five—when I break away, you fire."
Collei nodded, gripping her stick tighter.
"Wilco!"
They lined up head-on with the lead TU-95. Furina's finger hovered over the trigger.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Three!"
A high-speed Meteor missile streaked from her Rafale, slicing through the sky at Mach 4. The moment it connected, the lead TU-95 lurched violently—then exploded in a massive fireball mid-air, its cockpit vaporized instantly.
Furina wasted no time, switching to guns. She squeezed the trigger, unleashing a hail of 30mm rounds into the second bomber. The shells shredded through its left wing, severing it clean off. The TU-95 rolled violently, engines flaming out as it spiraled toward the ground, its fate sealed.
She pulled hard right, banking away.
"Waltz One breaking off—your turn, Waltz Five!"
Collei grinned, already locked in.
"Alright!"
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two!"
A Sidewinder missile streaked through the cold air, its seeker locked onto the TU-95's massive heat signature. The explosion was instantaneous—the bomber detonated in a violent burst of flame and debris.
AWACS Visionaire's voice rang out with relief.
"That's all the bombers! Good work, Waltz and Cuilenen!"
A new ground unit transmission came through.
"Leave the enemy aircraft to the TSSG! Our target is the ground!"
Then—Chevreuse's frustrated voice cut back in.
"Level's rising slowly… 48%... 50%… COME ON, YOU BIG PIECE OF SHIT!"
Furina smirked.
One shot. One chance. And they weren't going to miss.
A new, desperate transmission crackled through—urgent.
"This is Sentinel Three! We need close air support—NOW!"
Furina's response was instant.
"Waltz One inbound to your position—CAS range in one mike!"
She swung left, lining up for another attack run.
An APC.
A tank.
An AA truck.
A turret.
All clustered together.
Perfect.
Lock.
Tone.
"Bombs away!"
A massive explosion erupted across the battlefield, sending metal and debris flying in all directions.
A breathless Sentinel trooper came through the radio.
"To the pilot with the gold crown—thank you!"
Furina smirked, winking as she glanced down at the battlefield.
"De rien, ma chère~"
A brief pause. Then—
"What did she say?"
Clorinde chuckled, her voice amused.
"She said, 'You're welcome.'"
A burst of laughter followed from the Sentinel troopers.
"Haha! Glad you're here!"
The Battle Reaches a Standoff
The chaos that had defined the battlefield now simmered into a brutal war of attrition. The enemy had thrown everything they had—but the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group was still standing.
The radio crackled with victorious callouts.
"Target destroyed, Primordial One!"
"Enemy tank destroyed, Primordial Three!"
"Another APC destroyed, Waltz Two!"
Then—an unexpected transmission from the enemy frequency.
"These damn fighters keep taking out our reinforcements!"
"We're running low on tanks! But we got the helo unit on their way!"
AWACS Visionaire cut in, urgency returning to his voice.
"More bombers inbound! Altitude 8,000 feet, bearing 287!"
Furina's grip on the controls tightened. She yanked right, the G-forces slamming her into her seat.
"Waltz One engaging!"
Clorinde's voice followed immediately.
"Waltz Two engaging with Waltz One!"
From the allied radio, Major Chevreuse's voice snapped in—frustration mounting.
"Power levels aren't going up! Bypass that condenser!"
Xilonen's response was instant.
"Roger! Bypassing!"
Intercepting the Bombers
Furina and Clorinde shot through the skies, side by side, their targets locked.
The bombers—three TU-95s—were climbing into the stratosphere, desperate to avoid interception.
Furina tilted her head, calculating.
"Rapperia, climb now!"
Both pilots yanked back on their sticks, their aircraft roaring into a near-vertical ascent.
The altimeter spun rapidly.
Lock.
Tone.
Two bombers—Furina's.
Two bombers—Clorinde's.
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
Four long-range missiles streaked away.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Explosions rocked the sky as all four bombers were obliterated, debris scattering into the high atmosphere.
AWACS Visionaire confirmed the kills.
"Enemy bombers down, Waltz One and Two!"
Then—Eula's exasperated voice cut through the comms.
"I'm getting tired of this shit! It's like fucking whack-a-mole!"
Jean sighed.
"Stop complaining and keep flying! The outcome of this war depends on this mission!"
The enemy radio crackled again, desperation creeping into their voices.
"We're throwing everything at the complex! We're out of bombers and running low on air support!"
Furina steadied her breathing, her hands firm on the controls as her Rafale leveled out from the climb. A quick glance at her radar—new hostiles inbound. Ground reinforcements, rolling straight toward Sentinel Five.
Her targeting system locked onto a cluster of armored vehicles.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Three!"
Twin LCAA missiles shrieked off her hardpoints, slicing through the cold air. Furina pulled out of the steep dive, her Rafale's airframe groaning under the strain but holding steady.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two brilliant fireballs erupted across the ground.
"Target destroyed, Waltz One!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed.
Then, Jean's voice cut in, tight with urgency.
"Waltz One, I have visual on the helo unit! There's also a squadron of A-10s heading my way—I need support!"
Furina shoved the throttles forward, her afterburners roaring as she tore toward Jean's position.
"Waltz One en route! ETA, half a mike!"
More voices joined the comms.
"Waltz Five en route!"
"Primordial Four en route!"
Jean wasted no time. Her helmet HUD tracked an A-10 Warthog.
Lock.
Tone.
"Fox Two!"
A Sidewinder screeched off the rail. The Warthog barely had time to react before the missile detonated, shredding it midair in a burst of flames and metal.
Jean banked over the burning wreck, her heart pounding. Then—four more explosions followed in quick succession. The entire A-10 squadron was gone.
"That's the A-10 squadron down!" AWACS Justice confirmed.
"All that's left is the Apache unit!"
Final Assault – Destroying the Apache Squadron
Furina switched channels, her voice firm.
"Primordial One, Four, and Waltz Five—form up on me! Let's take them down in unison!"
One by one, confirmations came in.
"Primordial One, Wilco!"
"Waltz Five, Roger!"
"Primordial Four, Wilco!"
The four jets realigned into a tight attack formation, banking sharply into a synchronized 180-degree turn.
Their HUDs blazed red—multiple locks acquired.
Four tones.
Four confirmations.
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Two!"
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
Missiles ripped through the sky, streaking toward the Apaches like executioners' blades.
"Break away! Break away!" Furina shouted.
She yanked her stick back, climbing high.
Collei mirrored her, breaking in the same direction.
Jean veered left.
Raiden snapped right.
Then—impact.
Below them, four massive fireballs bloomed in the night, their shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.
"That's the helo unit down!" Visionaire announced, his voice triumphant.
The Railgun's Final Countdown
Then—good news at last.
The allied radio burst to life, filled with relieved voices.
"This is Sentinel One! We're in the clear! Thanks to the pilots with the crowns!"
Another voice, breathless.
"Sentinel Two! We're in the clear! Thank you, Primordial Squadron!"
Then, Major Chevreuse's voice cut through.
"Railgun Four is ready to fire!"
Xilonen confirmed immediately.
"Everything is in the green! Standby for firing sequence!"
Furina exhaled, gripping the controls tighter.
This was it.
One shot.
One chance.
The Sepharis Bird Karatel's time was running out.
Then—
The battlefield seemed to freeze.
A deep, unnatural hum reverberated through the sky, like the low growl of an apex predator.
"Everyone halt! I'm picking up a massive signature!"
AWACS Visionaire's voice snapped through the comms, his usual relaxed tone replaced by sheer urgency.
Furina barely had time to react before her radar display flared red.
A massive contact.
No—the massive contact.
Her fingers tensed around the sidestick, a pit forming in her stomach.
"Shit! It's the Sepharis Bird—Karatel!"
Her eyes snapped skyward.
And there it was.
The airborne juggernaut loomed over the battlefield, its two colossal middle propellers spinning with eerie precision—each one large enough to make an entire fighter jet look like a speck of dust. Surrounding them, the six smaller sub-propellers whirred in perfect synchronization, keeping the leviathan suspended in an almost ghostly stillness.
A war machine that defied the laws of aviation, engineering, and even logic.
A monstrosity.
And it was here.
To kill them all.
Then—movement.
From beneath its armored belly, dozens of small shapes detached.
At first, they almost looked like debris—silent, weightless—until they accelerated.
Like a metallic rainstorm, the MQ-101 drones shot downward in a terrifying, chaotic swarm.
Furina's pulse spiked.
"EVERYONE, GET READY! THE BIG BIRD JUST DROPPED ITS PAYLOAD—MQ-101 DRONES!"
AWACS Visionaire quickly followed.
"Confirmed! MQ-101s detected! Defend Railgun Four at all costs!"
No time to hesitate.
Furina slammed the throttles forward, her twin M88 engines howling as she punched into the swarm at full burn.
The MQ-101s scattered, adjusting with frightening precision.
Weaving.
Diving.
Rising.
They weren't just drones. They were hunters.
Furina juked hard to the right, dodging a sudden burst of gunfire. A split-second later, another MQ-101 slashed past her canopy, nearly clipping her wingtip.
She snapped the Rafale into a brutal 180-degree roll, her nose aligning.
Target.
Aim.
Fire.
Her 30mm cannon ripped through the air, spewing tungsten-laced death.
Five drones detonated instantly, their shattered remains tumbling toward the battlefield below.
"Splash five, Waltz!" AWACS Visionaire called out. "Keep it up!"
She didn't slow down.
Barrel roll.
High-G climb.
Snap-turn back into the fight.
Another burst of fire.
Another five torn apart.
"Another five! That's ten!"
But the swarm kept coming.
They weren't just attacking blindly. They were coordinating. Adapting.
A red warning flashed on her HUD—multiple lock-ons.
"Shit—"
She yanked the stick back, slamming into an emergency climb. Tracers zipped past her belly, too close for comfort.
The MQ-101s were trying to box her in.
Then—
Chevreuse's voice cut through the chaos.
"We're ready to fire! Begin countdown sequence!"
Xilonen started.
"Ten."
"Nine."
"Eight."
"Seven."
"Six."
"Five."
"Four."
"Thre—"
"STOP THE COUNTDOWN!"
Chevreuse's sharp yell sent a wave of confusion through the comms.
Furina's breath hitched.
"What?! What happened?!"
A pause.
Then, Chevreuse exhaled sharply.
"We lost visual!"
"You're shitting me! It's literally in plain sight!" Collei barked, her frustration raw.
Then—Wriothesley's voice, cold and precise.
"I see smoke. Right beside the railgun. Looks like a vehicle."
Another pause.
Then—cursing.
"Shit! The radar vehicle is down!"
Silence.
Then, a slow, frustrated sigh.
"Without it, we can't fire the gun."
The mission had just collapsed.
Then—
A new voice.
Ningguang.
"But we have eyes. The oldest sense in the book."
Chevreuse, exasperated.
"But they… they're too unreliable!"
Then—
"Then we can't carry out our mission!"
"Our lives are on the line here!"
"We have no choice!"
The Sentinel ground troops.
Desperate.
Furina's mind raced.
There had to be another way.
And then—
A realization.
If they couldn't fire the railgun…
They just had to make sure the target couldn't escape.
Her breath steadied.
Her grip tightened.
"If we slow down the Sepharis Bird… we might have a chance!"
A sharp pause.
Then—Jean's voice, firm.
"Right! New mission! Destroy the Sepharis Bird's propulsion!"
Furina's smirk returned.
"Wilco! Waltz One engaging!"
She yanked the stick back, her Rafale rocketing toward the airborne behemoth.
One by one, other pilots chimed in.
Clorinde.
"Waltz Two engaging with Waltz One!"
Amber.
"Primordial Two engaging with Waltz Squadron!"
Collei.
"Waltz Five engaging!"
The four fighters punched through the sky, cutting upward like streaking blades of steel.
Below, the rest of the squadron remained locked in a brutal defense, holding the line against the relentless MQ-101 swarm.
But up here—
It was a race against time.
And Furina had no intention of losing.
The Sepharis Bird Karatel loomed above them, its colossal engines roaring with a force that once seemed insurmountable.
But nothing was invincible.
Not anymore.
Furina smirked, fingers tightening around the sidestick as adrenaline surged through her veins.
"Time to bring down a goddamn monster."
The four fighters sliced through the sky like blades of retribution, diving beneath the behemoth before pulling into a precise attack formation.
Her voice cut through the radio, sharp and commanding.
"Waltz Five, Two, and Primordial Two! Aim for the sub-propellers! Leave the main ones to me!"
The three pilots responded in near unison.
"Wilco!"
Furina's HUD locked onto the left main propeller, the targeting reticle stabilizing over its massive structure.
TONE.
LOCK.
She exhaled sharply.
"Fox Three!"
Two HCAA missiles streaked away, their exhaust trails carving fiery paths through the sky.
Then—impact.
The left propeller stuttered, metal shrieking as the blades ground to a halt. Flames erupted from the housing, thick black smoke pouring out.
AWACS Visionaire's voice rang through the comms.
"Left main propeller has seized!"
Furina rolled right, immediately switching to the right main propeller.
TONE.
LOCK.
"Fox Three!"
Another pair of HCAAs launched.
Another direct hit.
"Main propellers down!" Visionaire called.
Then—three more explosions.
"Sub-propellers Four, Five, and Six are down!"
The remaining fighters shifted left, their targeting computers acquiring the final three sub-propellers.
Three tones.
Three locks.
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
"Fox Three!"
Six missiles rocketed forward—two per propeller.
Direct hits.
A final explosion sent debris spiraling into the freezing air.
AWACS Visionaire's voice was almost breathless.
"All sub-propellers down!"
For the first time, Karatel faltered.
Then—
A deep, ominous hum.
Furina's breath hitched.
The energy ring encircling Karatel shifted from blue to a glowing, menacing red.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"FUCK! EVERYONE, BREAK AWAY! BREAK AWAY!"
She wrenched the stick forward, throwing her jet into a near-vertical dive.
Collei banked hard right.
Amber snapped into a spiral, engines flaring.
Clorinde veered left, narrowly escaping.
Then—
A pulse.
A massive red energy wave detonated outward.
It just barely missed them.
A near-death escape.
The radio crackled to life.
Chevreuse's voice—urgent.
"We have it in sight! Commence countdown!"
Xilonen followed, her voice like a razor's edge.
"Ten."
The Railgun Four adjusted slightly downward, its barrel angling toward the crippled Sepharis Bird.
"Nine."
"Eight."
Furina's jet rattled from the residual shockwaves, but she forced herself to stay steady.
"Seven."
"Six."
A deep silence fell over the comms.
The sky was eerily still.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
Then, in perfect unison—
"FIRE!"
The Railgun discharged.
A sonic boom erupted as the hypersonic projectile ripped through the sky—
—shattering the energy shield on impact.
Karatel convulsed.
A split-second later—impact.
A thunderous explosion tore through its core.
Then—another.
Flames burst through the hull, sending metal shrapnel spiraling into the air.
Its right wing twisted apart.
Then—the final deathblow.
A deafening CRACK.
Karatel split in half.
One half spiraled into a freefall, plummeting toward the frozen wasteland below.
The other half dropped like a collapsing tower.
Then—impact.
The earth shook.
A fireball erupted skyward, a towering pillar of destruction piercing the clouds.
Then—silence.
Victory.
The radio exploded with celebration.
"HELL YES! KARATEL IS DOWN!"
"WOOHOO! LET'S FUCKING GO!"
"That's something I have to tell my kid when I get home!"
Furina exhaled sharply, her hands still gripping the controls.
It was over.
They had done it.
The four fighters leveled out, slowing into formation.
Then—Wriothesley's voice.
"Is it over?"
A beat.
Then, Chevreuse—calm, victorious.
"Yes. Karatel is down. Operation successful."
She turned to Xilonen.
"This one is yours, Xilonen. A good lesson on manual operations."
Xilonen chuckled.
"The real MVPs are the TSSG!"
Then—the ground forces joined in.
"Without them, we'd have lost for sure!"
"The two lead flights of the TSSG—they're the Teyvat Big Shots!"
A brief pause.
Then—Clorinde's voice, edged with amusement.
"You mean… the Teyvat Big Shot?"
Jean chuckled.
"Looks like we're on the offensive now!"
Amber grinned.
"With Karatel down, the enemy's range is cut in half—along with that damn bird!"
Then, AWACS Visionaire—laughing.
"That just means more pie and pizza for us!"
Furina chuckled.
"Are we gonna eat the whole thing?"
Eula groaned.
"Yeah? I'm starving here!"
Visionaire cackled.
"You fellas are always hungry. Bottomless appetites. We can talk about this back at Iron Gale—RTB!"
The Primordial and Waltz Squadrons formed up, climbing back to cruising altitude.
As they settled into the long flight home, Jean's voice came over the radio.
"Waltz."
Furina responded.
"Yeah?"
Jean chuckled.
"Congratulations, Waltz. You are the Ace."
Furina froze.
Her mind flashed back.
Her second sortie.
Nocturne and Tidal Squadron.
She could still hear Lyney's voice.
"You got ace again, Waltz! You're leading the formation!"
Furina's eyes widened.
"Seriously?!"
She could almost hear his laughter.
"Waltz, you earned it. Let it sink in. RTB."
Her mind snapped back to the present.
She exhaled, a small smile forming.
"Haven't heard that in a while."
Mavuika raised an eyebrow.
"When was the last time you heard that?"
Furina sighed.
"My second ever sortie."
A pause.
Then—she closed her eyes for a moment.
She was Waltz One.
She was the Ace.
And as they soared home, unheard by them—
The enemy radio crackled.
"We wasted our time for nothing."
"Yeah… but everyone was babbling about something."
"A plane with a golden crown."
"Take a look at that plane and its pilot if you can, will ya?"
The Calm After the Storm
Hours later, the skies over Iron Gale Air Force Base had settled into silence.
The battle was over.
The pilots had returned.
The Sepharis Bird Karatel was gone.
And with it—the war had shifted.
The briefing room was packed. Pilots, officers, strategists—every soul who had played a part in Operation Thunderstrike stood in quiet exhaustion. The air was thick, heavy with the remnants of adrenaline, relief, and grief.
They had won.
But the cost of battle always lingered.
At the front of the room, Jean Gunnhildr stood with her arms crossed, blue eyes scanning the war-weary faces before her. The operation's timeline replayed on the screen behind her, the key moments flashing by like ghosts of the past.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried the quiet authority of a leader who understood both victory and loss.
"Good work, everyone. This changes the war—massively."
No one spoke. No one needed to. The weight of those words settled over them all.
Jean exhaled, nodding once.
"With Karatel down, Snezhnaya's defensive range has been cut in half. That leaves only one Sepharis Bird—Celestia."
A murmur rippled through the pilots.
The final Sepharis Bird.
The last pillar of Snezhnaya's aerial dominance.
Jean let that truth linger before continuing.
"Because of this, we can expect counteroffensives from Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, Natlan, and Fontaine. The war is far from over, but this… this was a turning point."
For a moment, she let her gaze drift across the room, taking in the exhaustion, the quiet pride, and the unspoken grief etched into every face.
Then, her voice softened—just slightly.
"Get some rest. You've earned it."
A pause. Then, her final order:
"Dismissed."
The room stirred into motion. Pilots, officers, and engineers dispersed throughout the base.
Some headed straight for the mess hall, desperate for a hot meal to fill the void that battle left behind.
Others made for the barracks, their bodies craving rest more than celebration.
A few lingered on the airstrip, standing before their aircraft, hands running along the scorched, battle-worn fuselages, as if to remind themselves that they had survived.
And then—there was Furina.
She didn't stop for conversation. Didn't slow for the victory chants echoing across the halls.
She walked straight to her room.
Away from the noise.
Away from the celebrations.
Away from the world.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence.
A deep exhale.
She sat at her desk, fingers running through her silver-blue hair, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders.
For the first time since Karatel fell, she allowed herself to slow down.
To process.
Her gaze drifted to the old photo sitting in the corner of her desk.
A memory, frozen in time.
Aboard the Ousia-Class Carrier Blancheur.
Tidal Squadron.
Nocturne Squadron.
Ianus Squadron.
Furina reached out, picking it up gently—her gloved fingers tracing the faded faces, one by one.
So many of them… gone.
She smiled—just a little. But the weight in her chest tightened.
"That was for you guys…" she murmured. "Karatel is down… forever."
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the photo.
Ianus Squadron.
They had been among the best. Brave, skilled, relentless. And yet, against the Sepharis Birds, even the best had been torn from the sky.
She closed her eyes, her breath unsteady.
A whisper, barely above a breath—
"May Ianus Squadron rest in peace… Fly in paradise, fellow pilots."
She sat there in the stillness, letting the moment sink in.
Letting the reality of their victory settle.
Outside, the war still raged.
But for tonight—
Just for tonight—
Furina allowed herself to remember.