Operation Torres

Four Days Later…

The tension that once loomed over Iron Gale Air Force Base had finally lifted, dissipating like smoke after a storm. The Primordial Squadron and Waltz Squadron had returned to their usual routines, the weight of past events slowly fading. Conversations had resumed, the atmosphere was lighter, and laughter could be heard in the barracks again.

Even Furina—who had been boiling with rage just days ago—seemed calmer, back to her sharp-witted and energetic self. There was no longer a storm behind her eyes, just the determination of a warrior ready for the next battle.

But despite this return to normalcy, one thing remained unchanged.

The Razushitzel was still out there.

Somewhere in the frigid waters of Snezhnaya, the submarine continued its movements, roaming like a phantom beneath the ocean's surface. Its mission was still unknown, its intentions shrouded in secrecy.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting bright light over the Iron Gale Air Force Base. Strong gusts of wind swept across the tarmac, whistling between the hangars and rattling the metal fencing. The clouds were scattered, shifting like restless spirits above the vast airfield.

Near the main air force base building, both squadrons stood assembled in their flight suits, waiting near the designated apron parking area. They weren't preparing for an immediate sortie—this time, they were awaiting an arrival.

Furina turned to Jean, her golden crown insignia glinting under the sunlight.

"We're expecting someone, right?" she asked, arms crossed.

Jean nodded, her navy-blue flight suit rippling in the wind.

"Yeah. The Teyvat Intelligence Agency is sending our favorite analyst—Kaveh. He's here to brief us on what's likely to be our final mission concerning the Razushitzel."

As if on cue, the distant roar of turbofan engines filled the air.

The squadron turned their attention to the runway, where a sleek white Learjet 35A descended smoothly, touching down with a puff of smoke as its tires met the tarmac. The jet taxied down the runway, its fuselage gleaming under the midday sun, before rolling onto the taxiway and coming to a stop directly in front of them.

A brief silence followed as the engines whined down, the hum slowly dying as the aircraft settled into position.

Then, the main door opened, and the boarding stairs deployed.

Stepping out onto the top step, Kaveh emerged—briefcase in hand, clad in a sharp beige suit with a deep crimson tie. His blonde hair was tousled by the strong winds, yet he walked down the steps with the calm confidence of a man who had seen too much and yet was still standing.

He surveyed the gathered pilots with a neutral expression before finally speaking.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Nice to finally meet you all in person."

Jean and Furina stepped forward, meeting him halfway.

Jean was the first to extend a hand, her grip firm.

"Welcome to Iron Gale, Kaveh."

Kaveh nodded as he shook her hand.

"Thank you, Major Jean. It's an honor to work with you all. I've read the mission reports—impressive flying out there."

Furina then offered her hand, the strong wind whipping her silver-blue hair across her shoulders.

"Nice to finally meet you, Kaveh!" she greeted, her usual smirk returning.

Kaveh shook her hand, raising an eyebrow at her high energy despite the situation.

"And nice to meet you too… Ace Captain Furina."

Furina chuckled, shaking her head.

"No need for 'Ace'—I'm just doing my job."

Kaveh smirked.

"If that's just doing your job, I'd love to see what happens when you actually start showing off."

Furina grinned, but before she could fire back a witty remark, Jean stepped in, motioning toward the main building.

"Alright, let's get inside. We have a lot to discuss."

Kaveh nodded, adjusting his briefcase, and followed Jean toward the briefing room.

Behind them, Furina and the rest of Waltz Squadron and Primordial Squadron fell in line, the wind roaring through the airfield as they walked toward the next chapter of their war.

A Few Minutes Later…

The briefing room buzzed with quiet anticipation as everyone settled into their seats, eyes turning toward the front where Kaveh stood, briefcase in hand. The large display screen behind him flickered to life, illuminating the dim room with a detailed 3D X-ray model of the Razushitzel. Its massive structure slowly rotated, casting a ghostly blue glow across the assembled pilots.

Kaveh adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and addressed the room.

"Alright, first of all—thanks for having me here. But let's not waste time with formalities. Today is the day we capture the Razushitzel."

A silence settled over the squadron as Kaveh continued.

"Per the orders of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Vice Chairman Boulmier has given me operational command for this mission. This briefing will outline how we're going to track, corner, and eliminate the submarine before it carries out its attack."

He raised a thick, stapled stack of papers, fanning them out in one hand.

"These documents contain the Razushitzel's specifications, its full weapons list, and possible weaknesses. If we're going to disable its weaponry and capture it intact, this will be our key."

With a soft thump, he set the papers down on the metal table in front of him and moved to the display.

"Now, let's get to the heart of the matter."

The 3D model of the submarine zoomed in, shifting focus to the carrier deck. The image then tilted upward, revealing an enormous structure concealed within the hull.

Kaveh pointed at the screen.

"This is where things get ugly."

A faint mechanical hum filled the room as the rendering peeled back the upper layers, exposing a massive 600mm/128-caliber rail cannon housed within the deck.

"This beast of a weapon is over 70 meters long, with a firing range of 3,000 kilometers. And yes—it gets worse."

The model zoomed in further, showing a detailed cross-section of the cannon's munition loading system.

"This thing can also fire nuclear warheads. A one-kiloton nuke, to be exact."

The room fell into a tense silence as Kaveh let that information sink in.

"The estimated destruction radius is roughly 400 kilometers from ground zero. Casualty predictions? Tens of thousands of lives lost."

Furina, arms crossed, tapped her fingers against her bicep. She tilted her head slightly, unimpressed.

"I know this probably shouldn't be said, but… that's kinda disappointing for a nuke."

A few pilots snorted under their breath.

Kaveh smirked slightly and nodded.

"You're not wrong. Compared to larger strategic nuclear warheads, this is on the weaker side. But its purpose isn't raw destruction—it's symbolism."

He picked up a small remote from the table and clicked a button.

A new window appeared on-screen, showing a transcript from a recently decrypted recording.

"I was able to retrieve an intercepted conversation between Marcel Vacher and one of his crew members while they were docked at Alicorn Bay for resupply."

The recording played.

A calm, measured voice—undeniably Marcel Vacher's—spoke in a thick Fontaine accent.

"This submarine has the capability of doing many things in this war. And it does so in an… 'Élégant et Efficace' way."

A sharp scrape of metal filled the speakers as Furina shot up from her seat, pointing at the screen.

"That fucking bastard has the nerve to use my goddamn tag line?!"

Several squadron members turned to glance at her, but she was too pissed to care.

The recording continued.

"This world shall be horrified by the number of lives we plan to take."

"Only then will they finally let go of their weapons."

"Weapons that have taken ten million lives."

The recording cut off, leaving the room in dead silence.

Kaveh sighed.

"The imagery invoked by his words and the actual predicted damage don't even match. But that's because this isn't just about killing people. It's about sending a message."

A new image appeared—a map of Fontaine's capital, Marcotte City.

Collei narrowed her eyes.

"How can you be sure of when they plan to launch the nuke?"

Kaveh turned to her, pressing another button.

"Because their intended strike date is September 19th."

The map zoomed in, marking key locations within Marcotte City.

"That date marks the anniversary of the end of the Fontaine-Natlan War—35 years ago. The city will be filled with anti-war demonstrations, parades, and civilians celebrating."

Furina's breath hitched.

She froze, her mind reeling.

"T-That's… my home city…" she muttered under her breath.

Kaveh nodded grimly.

"Over one million people are expected to be in attendance. If they pull this off, the world will never forget it."

Eula crossed her arms, her voice sharp.

"That means they need terminal guidance for the missile to hit its target."

Kaveh snapped his fingers.

"Exactly, Lieutenant Lawrence! But how would they do it without GPS?"

Ningguang scoffed.

"Simple. We sink the goddamn submarine before they get the chance."

Kaveh nodded.

"Crude, but effective."

Furina leaned forward, raising an eyebrow.

"Crude?"

The map expanded, showing a satellite view of the ocean between Mondstadt, Liyue, and Fontaine. Multiple red paths lit up, showing the predicted routes the Razushitzel could take.

"We know it departed Alicorn Bay already. By the 19th, it will be within striking range of Fontaine."

The map zoomed in further.

"However, the Teyvat Orbital Elevator's tracking systems will force them to reroute through a very specific corridor…"

A new path appeared, leading into icy waters near Leviathan's Wake, just before exiting Snezhnayan Federation territory.

Kaveh pointed to the area.

"This is the Floodcaller's Passage—a nightmare zone for submarines. Shallow waters, high iceberg density, and an underwater mountain range will make it impossible for them to escape undetected."

The mission details flashed on the screen.

"We will use P-8 Poseidon patrol aircraft from the Fontaine Air Force to track them."

"P-3 Orions will deploy sonar buoys to create a sonar barrier."

"Once we have narrowed their position, Captain Furina will conduct the final detection run using a Magnetic Anomaly Detector."

Kaveh turned to Furina.

"A Fontaine pilot will be assigned to assist you on this run."

He tapped the display.

"Once the Razushitzel is found, the Fontaine and Liyue navies will launch a joint attack using ASROC missiles—sinking the sub once and for all."

A long pause filled the room.

Then, Mavuika spoke up.

"So who's flying? Don't tell me it's just Waltz Squadron again."

Jean smirked.

"Everyone. Except me."

Furina's eyes widened.

"Whoa. Jean?"

Jean grinned.

"Don't worry, Furina. Everyone's flying under Waltz Squadron today. Let's see how pissed off Captain Marcel Vacher gets."

Jean clapped her hands.

"Alright, you lazy bastards—move your fat asses!"

The pilots scrambled from their seats, grabbing their helmets and rushing toward the hangars.

Jean laughed, slapping her thigh.

Kaveh chuckled.

"Was that really necessary?"

Jean grinned.

"Nope. But it was hilarious."

Over at the Aprons…

The setting sun cast long golden streaks across the airfield, reflecting off the canopies of parked fighters. The rumble of engines, the hiss of fuel pumps, and the clatter of maintenance crews echoed across the tarmac as final preparations were made.

Each aircraft stood ready and waiting, fueled for the 20-minute flight to the Floodcaller's Passage. The air smelled of aviation fuel and heated metal, a familiar and reassuring scent to those about to take to the skies.

The squadron had gathered around Furina, forming a loose semi-circle as she stood atop a wheeled maintenance step, giving her a slight height advantage over the rest.

She took a deep breath, scanning each and every pilot before her. This was her squadron. Her responsibility.

"Alright, listen up!" Furina's voice cut through the air, firm and commanding.

"With everyone flying under Waltz Squadron today, that means you're also my responsibility. That means I expect discipline, coordination, and execution."

Her gaze hardened.

"We will fly in dual V formation. Standard protocol."

She exhaled slowly, then continued.

"And as always—I want a 100% return rate. That means every single one of you comes back alive."

The squadron nodded in unison. No objections. No doubts.

Furina folded her arms and glanced toward the hangars.

"If enemy fighters show up again, I want them erased before they get within range of the patrol aircraft. Protect the patrol planes at all costs. Do I make myself clear?"

A unified "Yes, ma'am!" echoed across the apron.

Furina clapped her hands together.

"Alright! Move out!"

The squadron dispersed in all directions, heading toward their assigned aircraft.

Just as Furina turned to leave, she spotted Collei lingering by her fighter. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she placed a hand on Collei's shoulder.

"Collei—how's the new bird treating you?"

Collei turned toward Furina, flashing a small but confident smile.

"It's treating me well, Furina."

Her gaze drifted to her fighter—a Dassault Rafale M, freshly assigned to her.

The sleek frame of the aircraft gleamed under the fading sunlight, its delta wings and canards giving it a striking, aggressive look. The same aircraft flown by Furina, Clorinde, and Wriothesley.

"It's very easy to fly. The avionics are straightforward, and for what it is, it's actually surprisingly maneuverable."

She ran a gloved hand across the fuselage, nodding to herself.

"It sucks I can't split the throttles anymore, but with its maneuverability, I don't think I'll need to."

Furina chuckled.

"Glad to hear it."

Collei gave her a final nod before heading toward her Rafale.

Furina, in turn, pivoted on her heel and made her way to Hangar One, where her own Rafale M awaited.

The hangar doors were wide open, revealing the matte-blue silhouette of Furina's one-of-a-kind Rafale M.

Unlike the standard gray Fontaine Naval Aviation scheme, her aircraft sported a deep blue, sky blue, white, and dark grey, flowing seamlessly along the sleek airframe. A golden emblem on the tail stood out: a crown over flowing water, Élégante et Efficace, written in bold script beneath the canopy on both sides, shimmering faintly under the setting sun.

Even after countless missions, it still looked pristine, as if untouched by battle.

She glanced at her watch.

The needle read, 4:30.

Time to move.

Furina ascended the built-in ladder, her boots clanking softly against the metal rungs. She settled into her ejector seat, her body instinctively relaxing into the familiar cockpit.

With practiced efficiency, she fastened her harness, securing herself in place.

Her left-side display booted up, waiting for input.

She entered the flight plan:

Home Base: Iron Gale Air Force Base

Waypoint 1: Floodcaller's Passage

Waypoint 2: Leviathan's Wake

A soft beep confirmed the data input.

With that, she reached overhead and pulled the canopy lever.

A sharp hiss filled the air as the transparent canopy sealed shut, locking her into the cockpit.

Furina flipped the Main Electrical switch from STBY to Right.

A soft whirr.

The right-side M88 engine spun up, its N2 stabilizing at 25%.

She smoothly pushed the engine management lever to IDLE, feeding fuel into the turbines.

A moment later, the engine hummed to life, stabilizing at idle RPM.

She repeated the process for the left engine.

With both turbines running smoothly, she adjusted her oxygen mask and activated her comms.

"Waltz Squadron, callsign check."

One by one, the radios crackled to life.

"Waltz Two. Checking in."

"Waltz Three. Let's get ourselves a sub."

"Waltz Four. Vengeance will be ours!"

"Waltz Five. The Sumerian Ace, ready to roll!"

"Waltz Six. Outrider, ready for the skies!"

"Waltz Seven. Time to strike them down."

"Waltz Eight. Let's save a million people."

"Waltz Nine. Let's piss off a submarine captain."

Then, finally—

"Waltz Squadron… let's save my home."

Furina released the brakes and taxied out of the hangar, turning right onto the taxiway.

Behind her, Waltz Two and Three followed, their Dassault Rafale M's moving in perfect formation.

Then came Waltz Four's F-15E Strike Eagle.

Then Collei's freshly minted Rafale M.

Followed by Waltz Five through Nine, each piloting their F-15E Strike Eagles, forming an imposing convoy of firepower.

As they reached the runway, Furina lined up immediately for departure.

The roar of her twin M88 engines intensified as she pushed the throttles forward, engaging full afterburner.

Twin streaks of blue-orange flame erupted from the exhaust nozzles as her Rafale accelerated down the runway.

The setting sun bathed the tarmac in a golden hue as her wheels lifted off, sending her into the skies.

One by one, the rest of Waltz Squadron followed, lifting off in 10-second intervals, their afterburners igniting against the twilight sky.

Down below, on the apron near the main building, Jean and Kaveh watched the final aircraft depart.

Jean stood at attention, her expression unusually serious.

She raised her hand in a crisp salute.

"May the Anemo Archon guide you safely on your mission, Waltz Squadron."

The distant roar of engines faded into the horizon, leaving only the whisper of the wind.

20 Minutes Later

The Waltz Squadron soared at 1000 feet, cutting through the sky like a knife, flanking the P-8 Poseidon of the Fontaine Air Force. Its darkened silhouette loomed against the backdrop of the setting sun, casting an orange hue over the sprawling ocean below. The tension was thick. They were entering the main operation zone now, and everyone in the squadron could feel it.

Furina's voice crackled over the radio, sharp and authoritative.

"Waltz Squadron. Spread out and be alert. Enemy fighters might be deploying any time now."

"Copy that, Waltz," Clorinde's voice, smooth but excited, cut in. "Alright! Time to hunt us a submarine!"

The Waltz squadron immediately shifted, peeling away from their tight formation and spreading out in a vast, wide arc. The sudden maneuver was sharp and calculated, preparing them for whatever threats might emerge.

Right on cue, AWACS Visionaire's voice echoed in their headsets.

"Alright. Time to get ourselves a Sub Sandwich." There was a noticeable grin in the tone, but the next words that followed made the air feel suddenly heavier. "But enemy fighters are en-route! Dassault Rafales, all coming from the Razushitzel."

The words hit like a slap in the face. Furina's gaze sharpened as she keyed her mic.

"Waltz Squadron. Enemy Rafales inbound. Prepare for a dogfight!"

There was no time to think. Only to act.

As the words left Furina's mouth, she muttered under her breath, but not realizing her mic was still open, her voice a whisper of deadly confidence.

"Je l'ai déjà dit... je le répète..."

"Il ne peut y avoir qu'un seul As. Piloter un Dassault Rafale."

"Et c'est moi... Furina De Fontaine."

Her IFF system blinked on, displaying the signature of three Rafales heading straight for her. She locked eyes with them on her HUD, her pulse quickening, but she remained cool. Furina's fingers gripped the controls tighter as she slammed the throttles to full power, her fighter roaring to life as she rocketed straight toward the enemy.

A deadly game of chicken had begun.

The distance closed rapidly, and in a heartbeat, Furina's radar locked on. Three enemy fighters.

"Fox Three!"

Three HCAA missiles shot from her wings, whistling toward their targets with deadly precision.

The enemy radio crackled, voices laced with panic.

"SHIT! I'M BEING LOCKED!"

"BREAK BREA—"

Before they could finish, the sky was filled with a trio of explosive flashes. Three Rafales were torn from the skies in an instant.

AWACS Visionaire's voice rang out in surprise. "Holy Smokes. Three in one Waltz!"

The enemy chatter continued, frantic and fearful.

"Golden Crown is back at it again! Rip the wings off those Patrol Planes!"

Furina's lips curled into a smile. "You bet your ass we will."

She turned eastward, scanning for the next target.

"How many planes can the Razushitzel fit?" Furina asked Kaveh over the comm.

Kaveh's voice crackled back, his tone matter-of-fact. "Around thirty... forty? There were four on the first operation. After they resupplied, they got ten."

"Wilco," Furina responded, her voice laced with steely determination. "Waltz Squadron. Three planes down. Seven to go. Spread out. Seek and destroy."

There was a chorus of responses from the squadron, each voice brimming with focus and adrenaline. "Wilco." "Roger that." "Understood." "Let's do this."

Another message came through from AWACS Visionaire, cutting through the tension. "20% of the buoys dropped."

South Side

Collei's eyes narrowed as she spotted the distinctive markings of an enemy Rafale.

"Black and Red Rafale spotted!" Her voice was sharp, adrenaline pumping. "Waltz Five engaging!"

Without hesitation, Collei banked hard to the left, executing a perfect 180-degree turn to give chase. Her fingers danced across the controls, the aircraft responding to her every move with a sharp, fluid grace.

She smirked, feeling the thrill of the hunt.

"Alright. Let's see you in action, New Gal," she murmured to herself.

The enemy Rafale responded by diving. Collei mirrored the move instinctively, pulling the Rafale into a steep dive. They were dangerously close to the water now, the waves splashing beneath them as they skimmed low to avoid radar detection.

Each turn was calculated, each maneuver a high-stakes gamble. The Rafale banked hard left, Collei following with equal precision, then hard right, the two aircraft locked in a deadly ballet.

But despite the acrobatics, the enemy pilot couldn't shake her.

Collei locked onto the target. A tone.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder screamed as it shot from her wing. The missile struck with a thunderous explosion, and the enemy plane disintegrated in a fireball of metal and smoke.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed the kill, its voice a momentary spike of energy in the otherwise intense silence. "Splash one Cuilenen!"

Collei pulled the stick back and climbed, scanning the sky for the next threat. Her pulse was still racing, but she was already moving on, seeking more enemies to take down.

Up North

Amber was in hot pursuit of another Rafale, weaving through the sky with relentless speed. But this time, the tables were about to turn. She wasn't the hunter. She was the bait.

The enemy Rafale mimicked her every move, shadowing her in a way that made her grin. It thought it had her.

Amber banked left, then right, executing a series of rapid turns, keeping the enemy guessing.

But then—she made her move.

Splitting the throttles. Engine one to full afterburner. Engine two to idle.

She slammed her foot on the right rudder pedal, twisting the plane with a violent jolt. The F-15 yawed hard to the right and dove, making the Rafale struggle to stay on her tail.

The enemy pilot couldn't match the move.

Eula was locked on, a smirk crossing her face as she squeezed the trigger.

"Fox Two!"

The missile shot out, slamming into the Rafale in a burst of fire and fury.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed the kill again, the words ringing out in approval.

"Bullseye Waltz Four! That's a barbecue! Skewer!"

Eula's laughter filled the comms. "Great move, Amber! Fantastic!"

Amber chuckled in return, her voice light despite the chaos. "I'm giving Collei the credit for that move!"

"You're welcome!" Collei chimed in, her voice filled with smug satisfaction.

The battle raged on, the sky now alive with fire and fury. Furina had her sights set on a pair of Rafales, her eyes narrowing as she watched them dance around their own target—Ningguang.

"Tianquan?!" Furina's voice cut through the comms.

Ningguang's cool, confident voice responded immediately, "Don't worry! I'm bait! Go get them, Waltz!"

Furina smirked, feeling the thrill of the chase surge through her. "Wilco, Tianquan. Engaging!"

She slammed the throttles again, her Rafale shooting forward with terrifying speed.

It didn't take long for Furina to close the gap between them. Her radar locked on to the first Rafale, the missile guidance system whirling with precision.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder shot out from her wing. The enemy Rafale broke right, but it was a fatal mistake. The missile found its target, slamming into the rear of the cockpit with a devastating explosion.

Furina wasn't done. She kept pushing forward, following the last enemy with relentless determination.

Ningguang and the enemy were locked in a brutal back-and-forth, sharp lefts, quick rights, each move calculated to avoid the other's guns.

Then, Furina saw an opening.

"Ningguang! When I say 'Now,' break hard right!"

"Wilco. Say the word!" Ningguang responded instantly.

"Five…"

The enemy Rafale banked left, tailing Ningguang in a desperate attempt to lock onto its prey.

"Four..."

The Rafale turned hard right, making its move.

"Three..."

The plane stabilized, thinking it had the advantage.

"Two..."

It began to feel too confident.

"One..."

"NINGGUANG, NOW!"

Ningguang kicked hard on the rudder, executing a perfect, tight right turn.

The Rafale couldn't react in time. Furina's missile locked on.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder streaked through the air, homing in on its target. The enemy plane deployed countermeasures, diving down into the chaos below, trying to escape.

But Furina wasn't done. She followed.

With a sharp inversion, she dove down after it, twisting through the icebergs below, the cold landscape flashing by as they flew low, only the sound of the engines and their desperate fight to survive ringing in the air.

Furina fired her guns. The burst tore into the Rafale's engines, and it sputtered and smoked, flames licking from the damaged bird.

The pilot ejected just in time as the Rafale slammed into an iceberg with a deafening explosion.

AWACS Visionaire's voice crackled through the comms once more.

"Two bogeys done, Waltz! That's one hot ice cream!"

As the final explosions echoed in the distance, the Waltz Squadron watched their enemies fall from the sky.

Then Three Distant Explosion's

"Waltz Nine, Three And Seven took out the final Enemy Planes!"

Then, the radio crackles.

The voice on the other end is cold, dripping with confidence. "Come at me, Golden Crown..."

Furina's eyes narrow, her lips curling into a tight frown.

"Captain Marcel Vacher..." She mutters under her breath, recognizing the voice. That name had been haunting her thoughts for a while now.

Her radar pings—an update. A green circle flickers into her HUD.

AWACS Visionaire's voice rings out sharply, cutting through the tense air. "Waltz Squadron. Head for the Green Circle."

"Waltz. Fly low, keep your speed below 300 knots. If your MAD's signal spikes higher, you're getting close," Visionaire continues, the tone tense but calculated.

Furina responds without missing a beat, her voice steady. "Understood. Heading to the target location now."

She turns her aircraft sharply, pointing due north. It doesn't take long to reach the designated area. Her pulse quickens as she glances at the MAD's spike meter, watching it dance as she flies exactly north.

The spike suddenly shifts, directing her slightly to the right. Furina adjusts, waiting for the signal to intensify. The tension is palpable in the cockpit. Every second feels like an eternity.

Then, there it is—the spike. It's growing, nearing the centerline. Furina makes a slight turn to the right.

The signal intensifies again.

She turns just a little more, feeling the tension in her fingertips. There it is again. Dead center. The spike is almost blinding.

Furina freezes for a moment, setting her heading to 050. She levels the plane. But then—

The spikes suddenly peak, and then, just as abruptly, they stop.

Furina's heart skips a beat. She leans forward, staring at her HUD in disbelief.

"What the hell happened?" she mutters, her voice tight with frustration.

Kaveh's voice crackles through her earpiece. "They predicted we'd use an MAD."

Wriothesley chimes in, his tone dry as always. "Seems like this is their contingency."

AWACS Visionaire cuts in, a hint of realization in his voice. "Sounds like... jamming devices?"

Kaveh snaps his fingers, the sound reaching Furina through the comms. "That's it! Jamming buoys!"

AWACS Visionaire's voice comes back, now with the sharpness of a man who's found something. "I got their coordinates! Updating your IFF now!"

Furina's IFF system flickers. The jamming buoys now show up on her display—she locks on instantly.

"I got them. Engaging now!" Furina's voice is ice-cold as she executes a hard right, diving toward the closest buoy.

The first buoy isn't far. She gets a lock. A tone.

"Fox Two!"

A Sidewinder streaks off her wing, slamming into the buoy with deadly precision.

Then came another.

"Fox Two!"

Clorinde's voice is quick, but her tone is controlled, the missile tracking toward its target. It's followed by another shot, this time from Collei.

"Fox Two!"

Raiden doesn't hesitate, letting her missile fly, and a direct hit rings out.

"All jamming buoys destroyed!" AWACS Visionaire confirms, his voice coming in almost like a sigh of relief.

But no one has time to celebrate.

"Razushitzel spotted. Due southeast! Updating your IFF radars!" AWACS Visionaire calls out urgently.

Furina doesn't waste a second. She turns left, pushing her aircraft hard as she barrels toward the new coordinates. The radar flickers, a new circle appearing on her screen.

She speeds up—but then realizes she's moving too fast. Without hesitation, she deploys the spoilerons. The speed quickly bleeds off, her aircraft slowing from 325 knots down to a smooth 300 knots.

The MAD spikes start appearing again, this time to her left.

Furina makes a subtle left turn, fine-tuning her heading. The spikes grow stronger, creeping closer to the centerline of her HUD.

Then—dead center. The spike intensifies, and Furina's grip tightens on the controls.

The signature is growing, reaching a peak now.

"Alright, we're close. Hang tight," Furina murmurs.

Then, just as the signal hits its peak—

Their IFF systems light up.

"Got it on my HUD! We found it!" Furina exclaims, a rush of exhilaration pulsing through her voice.

AWACS Visionaire confirms, a tone of victory in his voice: "Positive hit!"

The radio erupts with cheers.

"Yeah!"

"Let's fucking go!"

"All that flying around paid off!" Collei adds, her voice high with excitement.

Wriothesley's voice cuts through, still calm but with a sharpened edge. "We ain't done yet! Time to say goodnight to the submarine."

Then, another radio call. This time, it's the ships sent by Fontaine and Liyue's Navy. Their voices are steady, filled with the confidence of the final strike.

"Coordinates acquired. Ready for launch."

"Commence preparations to launch the VL-ASROC!"

"VL-ASROC ready to launch, sir!"

"Line of fire is clear!"

A pause.

Then the command comes down, heavy with finality.

"FIRE ALL THE MISSILES!"

Eight missiles shoot out, a perfect volley of destruction racing toward their target. The sky seems to hold its breath as they streak away.

AWACS Visionaire's voice comes through, cutting the silence with a decisive command: "Missiles away!"

As Furina and her squadron fly away from the target zone, the missiles parachute down, the quiet anticipation palpable.

Then, the world erupts.

The explosions come in waves—huge, violent eruptions of water as the missiles make impact.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

"Report status?" Furina's voice crackles through the radio, urgency creeping into her tone.

There's a moment of silence. A long, tense silence.

Then—

A rumble.

The ocean itself seems to shudder beneath them.

And suddenly—a massive splash erupts as the Razushitzel surfaces. The monstrous warship emerges from the depths, an angry beast shaking off the brine.

"Razushitzel spotted! It's surfaced!" One of the squadron calls out, panic threading their voice.

Furina's eye twitches, her mind scrambling to process the sight. "It didn't sink!?!"

The Razushitzel, massive and ominous, reveals its two main rail guns, towering like sentinels above the water's surface. They swivel ominously toward the fleet.

AWACS Visionaire's voice cuts through the static, sharp and commanding.

"Shoot down the Razushitzel! Aim for the ballast tanks and the rail guns! Protect the fleet!"

Furina's resolve hardens. No hesitation. She slams the throttles to full power.

Her Rafale M streaks low, cutting through the air just above the water's surface. The Razushitzel looms ahead, but Furina is already calculating her attack run.

She locks on. Her HUD flickers with a tone. Her thumb tightens around the trigger.

"Fox Three!"

Two HCAA missiles tear from her wings, speeding toward their target with deadly accuracy.

She flies above the Razushitzel, watching the missiles track their target.

A direct hit.

AWACS Visionaire confirms the strike, his voice almost relieved, though still brimming with urgency.

"Rail gun destroyed! One to go!"

Furina doesn't wait for a moment to savor the victory. She's already turning for another pass.

This time, she targets the CWIS.

Another lock.

Another tone.

"Fox Three!"

Two more HCAA missiles leap from her jet, streaking toward their mark. Another direct hit.

Furina flies high above the Razushitzel once more, the ship beneath her smoking and reeling from the damage.

Then—the enemy radio crackles again.

"Right main gun is wrecked!"

"And our CWIS is wrecked too!" A voice shouts, panic rising in the crackle.

The captain's voice, cold and defiant, comes through next.

"TWO YEARS WE FOUGHT UNDER THE WATER. TWO YEARS WE STOOD STILL TO SURVIVE! I WILL NOT ALLOW OUR PREVAILANCE TO BE DECREASED BY ANY MEANS!"

Furina grits her teeth. She doesn't let up. Her eyes narrow, her grip tightening on the controls.

She gains a lock on the second rail gun.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Another pair of missiles are launched.

The explosion rips through the sky, but still—the rail gun remains operational. Furina's heart pounds as she pulls up for another pass.

AWACS Visionaire comes on the radio again, his voice clipped with frustration.

"The rail gun is damaged! One more hit, Waltz!"

Right on cue, Collei chimes in, her voice steady and sharp.

"Got a lock!"

Tone

"Fox Three!"

Two more missiles race through the sky and slam into the second rail gun.

Direct hit.

AWACS Visionaire's voice rings in her ears.

"Nice work, Waltz Five! The two main rail guns are down!"

But there's no time for celebration.

The squadron presses on.

Ningguang now locks onto the front ballast tank.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Another direct hit.

AWACS confirms the strike.

"Ballast tank destroyed!"

Then, Clorinde swoops in, aiming for the rear ballast tank. Her voice is cold and calculated as always.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Another direct hit.

"Rear ballast tank destroyed! Keep it up!" AWACS urges.

The enemy radio crackles once more.

"Ballast tanks are damaged, Captain!"

The frustration in the voice is palpable.

Captain Vacher's voice comes through again, sharp with anger.

"FIRE ALL MAIN WEAPONRY ON GOLDEN CROWN!"

"But Captain, our rail guns are damaged!" a crew member protests.

"DAMN YOU, GOLDEN CROWN! BUT OUR MISSION TO TAKE TEN MILLION LIVES IS NOT OUT OF THE QUESTION YET! I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING! I KNOW YOU ARE!"

Mavuika, the ever-reliable and deadly pilot, comes in next. She's locked onto the carrier's VLS system.

Tone.

Lock.

"Bombs away!"

A direct hit.

"That's their VLS system destroyed, Kiongozi! No more enemy Rafales launching!" Mavuika announces.

Then, Raiden's voice comes through the comms. Her eyes are set on the left side ballast tank.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

The missiles tear through the air and—

Direct hit.

The enemy radio crackles again, desperation clear in the voices of the crew.

"THEY'RE COMING FRONT, LEFT, RIGHT, AND BACK! WE'RE DEFENSELESS!"

"GOD HELP US ALL!" a voice screams.

Captain Vacher's voice cuts through the chaos.

"BE NOT AFRAID! DID YOU NOT LEAVE YOUR FEARS AT THE ABYSS?"

"DIVE RIGHT NOW!" he orders.

"But Captain, our ballast tanks are damaged! We... we can't dive!" the crew protests.

The final blow comes—Furina locks on to the last remaining ballast tank.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

A direct hit.

AWACS Visionaire comes on the air, his voice a final, triumphant declaration.

"All defenses and ballast tanks destroyed!"

And then.

Silence.

But then, the radio crackled, shattering the silence.

It was the Allied Force Radio frequency.

"We... we surrender..."

A stunned pause followed, a collective gasp over the comms.

"What?"

"What the hell?"

"Did they just say they surrender?"

"This is the Carrier Submarine Razushitzel. We surrender..."

The message echoed in the airwaves, but all Furina could do was blink in disbelief.

AWACS Visionaire quickly came over the radio, trying to maintain control.

"All aircraft! Cease fire immediately!"

Clorinde scoffed loudly, her voice dripping with disbelief.

"That's a con man talking! Why the hell should we give them a chance?!"

Then Collei's voice rang through with a sharp edge of frustration.

"We should sink that bastard right now. No mercy."

AWACS Visionaire's voice cut in, more composed but firm.

"We can't! They surrendered. We can't attack those who have surrendered! That's a direct violation of international law."

The voice of the captain came through again, tired, but resolute.

"I repeat! We surrender!"

AWACS Visionaire made the call, his tone stern.

"Weapon use is prohibited."

Wriothesley's voice cracked through, a sneer in his tone.

"Why the hell are we still holding on to international law? After everything they've done, they're asking for mercy?"

Furina's voice was cold and unwavering.

"Because if we don't follow it, we won't be soldiers anymore!"

Wriothesley scoffed again, as if the whole concept disgusted him.

"Then I'll happily quit my career," he spat.

The Captain's voice returned, now with a sense of finality.

"We surrender… We are making preparations to be disarmed."

There was a beat of silence before Kaveh's voice came over the line, matter-of-fact as always.

"This is Kaveh of the Teyvat Intelligence Agency."

"Captain Marcel Vacher, we've jammed your terminal guidance system over at Fontaine," Kaveh continued. "Your shot will miss. You're done."

There was a long silence.

And then, the Captain spoke again, but this time his voice was slower, almost meditative.

"Let me… tell you a story."

"When I was a Gunnery Officer... I had to aim for an enemy destroyer. Thirty kilometers away... in the middle of a storm..."

Furina's eyes narrowed, her instincts on edge.

The tension on the radio grew thick as the Captain continued, his voice carrying an eerie calm.

"The seas were rough. But I still landed two shots."

Kaveh's chuckle was sharp, dismissive.

"Let me ask you something... Was your plan elegant?"

"Yes,"

"Elegant, until the pilot of the Golden Crown ruined it."

Vache's voice suddenly growled

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BEAUTY, KAVEH?"

Furina's pulse quickened. Her eyes widened as the enemy's carrier deck began to rise—tilting skyward like some monstrous, desperate gesture.

"SHIT! ITS ABOUT TO LAUNCH THE NUKE!" she cursed, slamming her throttle to full power.

The rest of the squadron was in chaos, radios crackling, a mix of warnings and orders.

AWACS Visionaire shouted first.

"CEASE FIRE IMMIDIATELY!"

Then Clorinde, voice rising with urgency.

"FURINA! WAIT!"

But the Captain was spiraling into madness. His voice came again, louder and crazed.

"The target is the Fontaine capital of Marcotte!"

"Charged up, Captain!" someone else on the enemy side shouted in the background.

Furina gritted her teeth, adrenaline shooting through her veins. She wasn't going to let this man win.

"TO TAKE THE LIVES OF ONE MILLION PEOPLE, AT A DISTANCE OF FIVE THOUSAND KILOMETERS… WITH MY OWN. BARE. HANDS!"

Kaveh shouted in warning, frantic.

"FURINA!!"

Her mind raced. The missiles were ready, and if she didn't act now, that launch would change everything. She took a deep breath, locking onto the target with iron determination.

Tone.

Lock.

She fired—two missiles screaming away from her wings.

Furina pulled up sharply, narrowly missing the barrel of the gun, her heart pounding.

The missile hit the base.

An explosion.

The carrier deck's barrel shot up, but it fired.

Furina's heart skipped a beat. She saw it. The missile was in the air.

"FUCK! IT FIRED!" she shouted, her hands steady on the controls despite the panic surging through her.

Silence fell over the comms, and for a moment, Furina thought the world had stopped.

Then Kaveh's voice sliced through the stillness, sounding calm.

"It's okay. It will miss. It's a railgun shell, not a nuke, and it's going to land in an empty field at the abandoned testing facility at Northwest Fontaine. It'll be a waste of energy."

Anger roared through the Captain's voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?"

Furina's eyes glinted coldly. She wasn't about to let this man get away with it.

"YOU JUST VIOLATED INTERNATIONAL LAW, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!" she shot back.

The Captain, ever defiant, growled into the comm.

"LOAD THE NEXT SHELL!"

Furina's smirk returned, deadly.

"All aircraft, let's destroy ourselves a submarine."

Furina turned hard, her Rafale slicing through the air as she headed straight for the Razushitzel once again. The others weren't waiting around either—each squadron member was already in the heat of battle.

Collei's missile found its mark, shredding the submarine's jammer.

Clorinde's weapons locked on to another anti-air system.

Ningguang's precision was deadly as ever, smashing through a CIWS turret.

Furina made a swift 180, her engines roaring to life. Now, she was heading straight for the submarine at full speed. She could feel the intensity in her grip on the controls, each second bringing her closer to the heart of the beast.

The radio crackled again.

It was Vacher's voice, as manic as ever.

"A POWERFUL SUBMARINE. A POWERFUL GUN. WITH POWERFUL AMMUNITION! ADD A SPRINKLE OF DEATH, AND THIS FORMULA IS COMPLETE!"

Furina's eyes narrowed, and she locked onto the submarine's core—the two nuclear reactors that powered it.

Her tone was icy as she gave the command.

Tone...

Lock...

"FOX THREE!"

Two HCAA missiles shot off her wings, streaking toward the target.

Furina yanked the stick hard, breaking left as the missiles closed in.

Then—

A massive explosion.

The world seemed to pause for a breath.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed the hit with cold precision.

"Target hit. Target is hit!"

The comms lit up with cheers. Clorinde was the first to explode with excitement, punching the air in her Rafale.

"ALRIGHT, FURINA! LET'S FUCKING GO!"

Collei followed, twisting her aircraft in sheer elation.

"YES! HAHA! FUCKING YES!!! YES!!!"

"FUCKING HELL!"

Mavuika, ever the showman, climbed higher, performing barrel rolls as she laughed.

"HELL YEAH!"

Eula watched the submarine burn in the distance, her voice a sharp, triumphant edge.

"AND THAT'S VENGEANCE SERVED HOT!"

But amidst the celebration, the radio crackled once more.

It was Vacher.

His voice was filled with manic laughter, the sound of a man who had lost everything.

The submarine's hull started leaking orange sparks, the ominous hiss of its dying systems filling the air.

Then—explosions.

The captain's voice came through, a twisted final transmission.

"ONE MILLION LIVES!! HAHA! ONE MILLION—"

And then—

A final explosion.

Ningguang's eyes widened as she glanced to her left.

"H... Holy shit... The hull is damaged…"

A moment of disbelief washed over her.

"No..."

The words hung in the air.

"Its split in half!"

Eula scoffed, her voice tinged with awe.

"He really pulled it off."

The Razushitzel's nose tipped upward, its massive form beginning to split at the center. The tail followed suit, lifting as the entire vessel began its descent.

And then—

A massive explosion erupted from within.

Water shot skyward in a brilliant column of destruction.

It was a nuclear explosion.

The shockwave cascaded outward, water raining down on the allied fleet.

The Waltz Squadron regrouped, flying away from the sun, heading back to base.

Jean's voice crackled through the comms.

"Waltz Squadron. You all did amazing. The Razushitzel is destroyed."

Eula was the first to speak, still in disbelief.

"H... Holy... That... That was something... Unbelievable..."

Wriothesley followed, his voice unusually quiet.

"That's right... I... I'm at a loss for words."

Then Furina, her tone shifting into something reflective, almost poetic.

"There... are some who send others to impending doom. Some... on purpose... some... not."

"But Marcel Vacher was something else... a devil's incarnate... But there are others."

"Others who would show them the way... others who would guide them into the light…"

"A light. At the forefront. Casting a clear path to victory."

"And those who follow them... feel they're in the right hands. That they... will make it."

"The world awaits a hero. A hero to keep the torch alight... banishing the darkness that surrounds them…"

Jean, at a loss for words, finally spoke.

"W... Wow... You're quite the poet, Furina."

Collei's voice came next, her tone softer than usual.

"I... I'm touched."

Clorinde, ever the tough one, spoke up, trying to hide the sincerity.

"Y-Yeah... so am I, kid."

Furina smirked, her usual confident demeanor returning.

"There's a saying, you know."

"Stick with Waltz... and you might just make it."

The nine fighters climbed together, the squadron soaring back to base in unison.

A mission done.

Mission accomplished.

Hours later.

Darkness had fallen over Iron Gale Air Force Base. Silence lingered across the aprons, the hum of aircraft engines and the bustle of combat replaced by a haunting quiet.

Inside the briefing room, however, it was a different scene.

Cheers rang out as everyone gathered around, beers in hand, celebrating the victory.

"Cheers!" they all shouted in unison, clinking their bottles together.

Laughter filled the air, light and free, as they all took a sip.

But then, Jean, ever the realist, brought the mood back down to earth.

"Sadly though, this won't last forever..."

He paused, his gaze serious as he met their eyes.

"In 32 hours, we depart."

A collective silence descended, the weight of the moment settling on their shoulders.

"For the operation to capture Morepesok."

A stillness lingered. Furina, her hand still wrapped around her beer, let out a deep sigh, dropping her free hand with frustration.

"Oh, come on…"

She shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"Give me a break…"

With the Razushitzel destroyed and sunk, the war's outcome was beginning to look bleak for Snezhnaya. But, as always, there was more to be done.

And in 32 hours, the first operation to seize the capital would begin.