Wings of the Stars

Two Days Later…

The sun steadily rose above Iron Gale Air Force Base, casting golden hues across the tarmac. The sky was scattered with soft clouds, and a gentle wind whispered through the trees and along the runways. The air was crisp, fresh—so different from the snow-laden winds she had once known.

Furina had just woken up.

Still groggy from sleep, she leaned against the open window of her room, letting the cool morning breeze brush against her face. Her silver-blue hair fluttered slightly, catching the sunlight. Her gaze stretched far beyond the base, beyond the hills, beyond the horizon.

A deep breath.

A moment of reflection.

In the span of just five days, everything had changed.

Five days ago, she had arrived at Iron Gale, transferred from the Teyvat Spare Squadron—from the disgraceful Drowned Squadron.

Two days ago, she had been reinstated as a First Lieutenant in the Teyvat Air Force.

On the same day, the Waltz Squadron had been formed, named after her TAC name.

And just yesterday, there had been a ceremony.

A ceremony where Furina was promoted from First Lieutenant to Captain.

She smiled.

She had finally made it.

Through the ups, the downs, and the lowest point in her life—when the Teyvat Union Peacekeeping Force had found her guilty of murdering the former president, Ms. Imena.

Her name had been dragged through the mud. She had been treated like a criminal, abandoned, cast aside. And now?

Now, she was back.

She turned her gaze to the small desk in her room, where a neatly folded letter rested. The letter she had received after her promotion ceremony.

It contained the final report of the investigation into President Imena's death.

It turned out that an enemy F/A-18 had been responsible for shooting down the former president's V-22 Osprey.

The shocking part?

The IFF system had tagged that enemy jet as a friendly aircraft.

Furina's smile faded. Her eyes narrowed.

"How in the hell did Snezhnaya spoof our IFF system into tagging an enemy aircraft as friendly?"

It didn't make sense.

Her mind raced, going over every possible scenario.

Could it be because Snezhnaya had access to friendly aircraft models? After all, they operated a mix of F/A-18s and F-35s, just like the Teyvat Air Force.

Was that how they had done it?

She shook her head. "No… There has to be more to this."

She needed answers.

A quick glance at her phone. 08:00 AM.

She sighed. "Time to get ready. We've got an operation today."

No time to dwell on the past. She had a mission to focus on.

Without wasting a second, she headed to the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room as she stepped into the shower. The cold water jolted her fully awake.

Minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, adjusting her fighter pilot suit—zipping it up, securing the straps, making sure everything was perfect.

She slipped on her brown combat boots, tying the laces tight.

A quick step forward. A slight bend of her foot. Secured.

She stood up and reached for her helmet, holding it in both hands.

Her gaze dropped to the visor.

There, in the reflection, she saw herself.

Not the broken pilot who had been cast aside. Not the scapegoat of a political disaster.

No.

She was Captain Furina.

Her smirk returned.

"Welcome back… Captain Furina."

A glance at her watch. 08:45 AM.

Perfect timing.

She adjusted her helmet under her arm, squared her shoulders, and strode confidently towards the door.

Today was the start of a new chapter.

No hesitation. No doubts. No fear.

Just Captain Furina de Fontaine—pilot of the Rafale Evolution, leader of Waltz Squadron, and a soldier of the skies.

She smirked.

"Let's get going."

With that, she stepped out of her room, walking with purpose toward the briefing room nearby.

A new mission awaited.

Mission Briefing – Operation Permafrost Strike

As soon as Furina stepped into the briefing room, she was met with smiles all around. The air buzzed with excitement and energy.

Amber, always the energetic one, stood with her arms crossed, flashing a wide grin.

"There's our fresh-faced Captain!" she teased.

The room erupted into applause.

Furina smirked, raising her free hand. "Alright, alright, let's not waste any more time. We've got a mission to do."

Jean chuckled, arms behind her back. "Right, Captain Furina. Let's begin."

With a click, the display screen flickered on, revealing a tactical satellite image of Northern Snezhnaya. Naval Base Cerberus was marked in bright red, surrounded by ice-covered waters.

Jean stepped forward, her voice steady and commanding.

"Alright. First, a welcome to the new faces of the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group. Furina, Wriothesley, and Clorinde—Waltz, Wolfbite, and Rapperia, respectively. We've been hearing nothing but praises about the three of you, and you're proving to be valuable assets to the team."

Furina simply nodded. She didn't need praise—she needed results.

Jean continued, "Now, onto the mission."

The map zoomed in, highlighting a massive cluster of red markers—enemy automated drones.

"Our counteroffensive has been slowing down due to a massive swarm of AI-controlled drones equipped with an auto-intercept system. The moment an unauthorized aircraft enters Snezhnayan airspace, these drones are automatically dispatched for interception—and if necessary, elimination."

The room fell silent.

Furina clenched her jaw. Automated interception? That explained how their forces had struggled.

Jean's expression darkened. "We lost dozens of pilots just trying to figure out how this system operates. Only four survived those missions."

The air in the room grew heavy.

Only four?

Jean exhaled sharply. "However… we discovered a blind spot in their intercept network."

The map zoomed in again, revealing a narrow corridor near the icy coastline of Northern Snezhnaya.

"It's a small gap, but a crucial one. If we don't exploit it now, the enemy will seal it, and we'll lose our only chance to strike. This is where we come in."

Jean straightened.

"We've been ordered to carry out a long-range strategic strike, which is why the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group (TSSG) was formed. Both Primordial Squadron and Waltz Squadron will sortie deep into Snezhnayan airspace and execute a specialized long-range attack strategy."

The screen displayed a flight path, a carefully planned route weaving through the Snezhnayan coast, avoiding the heaviest areas of enemy radar detection.

"We will carve our way from the north, making our way toward Morepesok, the enemy's capital. Along the way, we will target key enemy infrastructure, crippling their ability to defend themselves."

The map zoomed in once more, displaying three major targets in Northern Snezhnaya.

Target 1: A Floating Air Base – A fully operational aircraft carrier stationed in the icy waters of Fort Cerberus, serving as a launch point for enemy fighter squadrons.

Target 2: A Floating Supply Base – A heavily fortified resupply station built on massive ice platforms, providing logistics to the enemy fleet.

Target 3: The Permafrost Armada – A fleet of warships, including aircraft carriers, destroyers, and cruisers, preparing to strike against allied forces in Southern Snezhnaya.

Jean's gaze hardened. "We've known for some time that this supply base has been a lifeline for the enemy's navy. If we can strike hard and fast, we may cripple their operations before they launch a full-scale offensive on our forces in the south."

Furina folded her arms, analyzing the strategic layout. A three-pronged assault.

Amber nodded. "So, in short, we're about to turn their entire navy into scrap metal?"

Jean smirked. "That's the idea."

The room murmured in agreement.

Jean continued, "However… we expect heavy resistance. The enemy's advanced fleet is likely already on high alert, meaning they could launch a counterstrike at any moment. Be prepared for anything."

The screen then displayed a personnel roster update.

"We've also made some adjustments to balance our squad composition. Primordial Four and Primordial Six will be reassigned to Waltz Squadron as Waltz Four and Waltz Five, respectively."

Furina's squad was growing.

Jean's eyes swept across the room. Her voice lowered, yet remained firm.

"One last thing. Machines can be replaced. Lives cannot. The last thing we want is casualties."

Silence.

Furina clenched her fists. "Understood."

Jean turned off the display and grabbed her helmet.

"Alright. Waltz Squadron, Primordial Squadron—prepare for sortie."

The pilots stood up in unison, grabbing their respective helmets and gear.

Furina adjusted the strap on her flight suit, taking a deep breath.

Jean placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's make history, Captain Furina."

Furina smirked. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Captain Jean."

With that, they filed out of the briefing room, making their way toward the hangars.

Engines would soon roar to life.

Missiles would be armed.

The sky would be theirs.

And Northern Snezhnaya was about to feel the full force of the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group.

Operation Permafrost Strike – Sortie Begins

The hangars loomed over the taxiway, their doors wide open, revealing rows of war machines—sleek, lethal, and ready to launch into the sky.

To the left, the five aircraft of Waltz Squadron stood lined up, their canopies reflecting the pale morning light. To the right, Primordial Squadron prepared their F-15E Strike Eagles, their dark silhouettes stark against the bright concrete of the base.

Each plane, perfectly ordered by number.

Hangar 1 – Furina's Rafale M Evolution

Hangar 2 – Wriothesley's Rafale M

Hangar 3 – Clorinde's Rafale M

Hangar 4 – Eula's F-15E

Hangar 5 – Collei's F-15E

As Furina approached her aircraft, she was intercepted by Collei, the youngest of the squadron.

"H-Hey, Captain Furina?"

Furina chuckled, giving the green-haired pilot a sideways glance. "No need to be so formal, Collei. Just Furina will do."

Collei gasped. "Oh! Umm… Right!"

A moment of silence, then she spoke again. "I just wanted to say—it's a pleasure flying with you today. D-Did you pick us for the equalization of the squadrons?"

Furina nodded. "That's right. Five on each squadron evens us out. Makes it fair, non?~"

Collei nodded enthusiastically. "Right!"

The two pilots parted ways, and Furina turned towards Hangar 1, where her Dassault Rafale M stood waiting.

Furina's Lead Aircraft – A Symbol of the Waltz Squadron

Unlike the standard gray of the Fontaine Air Force, Or Any other Air Force. Furina's Rafale M was a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

Freshly cleaned, polished, and detailed, the lead flight aircraft of Waltz Squadron had new additions to its livery.

On the trailing tip of her vertical stabilizer, now gleamed a bold "01", marking her as the squadron leader. The same number adorned the top and bottom of her left wing.

The right wing bore the insignia of Waltz Squadron—similar to Furina's own emblem, but enhanced:

A dark blue circular emblem, now with wings on either side, outlined in gold.

At the center, Furina's golden silhouette of her signature crown emblem stood proud.

A faint sky-blue background featured a stylized image of her Rafale M soaring skyward.

At the bottom of the circle, bold lettering displayed the name of her squadron:

"Escadron de Chasse 1013 – La Waltz"

Ironically, the Teyvat Union Peacekeeping force Chose Squadron 1013th. Her birthday.

An emblem she had designed herself.

Now, the same insignia was plastered onto every aircraft in Waltz Squadron—on the tail, and on the top and bottom of the right wing.

Except for one difference—on every other aircraft, the crown emblem was black. But on her Rafale, it remained gold.

One last addition, exclusive to her aircraft:

"Armée de l'Air " was neatly stenciled below the blue outline of her tail, a subtle yet powerful reminder of her origins.

Furina ran her gloved hand across the smooth metal, feeling the coolness of the fuselage beneath her fingers.

"New additions to the livery… Now it's truly a lead flight aircraft."

With a smirk, she climbed up the integrated ladder and settled into the ejection seat, adjusting her harness as she glanced at her flight plan—already pre-loaded into the cockpit.

The TACAN waypoints stretched along the eastern coast, leading northward towards the mission area.

A mid-air refueling operation was planned close to the target zone—a crucial factor in maintaining their endurance deep inside enemy airspace.

With practiced efficiency, Furina donned her helmet and oxygen mask, sealing herself into the cockpit as she closed the canopy with a press of a button.

Her radio crackled to life.

"Waltz Squadron, checking in."

The responses came swiftly.

"Waltz Two, checking in." (Clorinde)

"Waltz Three, checking in." (Wriothesley)

"Waltz Four, ready to roll!" (Eula)

"Waltz Five, let's do this thing!" (Collei)

A smirk played on Furina's lips.

"Alright. Let's do this."

She switched the ignition, and the twin M88-4E engines roared to life. The whine of the turbines quickly became a thunderous hum, vibrating through the airframe.

Sortie – Takeoff Sequence

The Primordial Squadron taxied first, their F-15E Strike Eagles rolling onto the runway. One by one, at 30-second intervals, they roared down the tarmac and lifted into the pale morning sky.

Then, it was Waltz Squadron's turn.

Furina led the pack.

Her Rafale M was the first to taxi onto the runway, followed by Clorinde's Rafale, Wriothesley's Rafale, and finally, the two F-15Es of Eula and Collei.

A final radio check before departure.

"Waltz One, taking off."

She throttled up, feeling the force as her engines roared to full power. The aircraft shuddered, then surged forward, racing down the runway.

As she reached rotation speed, she gently pulled back on the stick.

The nose lifted, the landing gear left the ground, and she was airborne.

"Waltz One, airborne."

One by one, the others followed.

"Waltz Two, airborne."

"Waltz Three, airborne."

"Waltz Four, airborne."

"Waltz Five, airborne."

They formed up into a tight wedge formation, climbing to their designated altitude.

Below them, Iron Gale Air Force Base quickly shrank into the distance, replaced by an endless stretch of clouds and sky.

Far ahead, Northern Snezhnaya awaited.

Their first long-range mission had begun.

Mid-Air Refueling

Hours had passed.

The vast sky stretched endlessly before them, painted in hues of blue and white, broken only by the occasional scattered cloud. Beneath them, the frozen expanse of Northern Snezhnaya lay in icy silence.

The mission area was close—they were almost in striking range.

By now, everyone else had already refueled with the KC-10 Extender. The massive aerial tanker had been orbiting at high altitude, its long refueling boom extending and retracting like the feeding arm of a mechanical beast.

Now, it was Furina's turn.

Her first time refueling mid-air.

She had trained for this moment countless times in the simulator, but now? Now, it was real.

The radio crackled to life as the tanker operator reached out.

"Waltz One, your turn. I'll guide you to the probe."

Furina took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Wilco. Commencing approach."

She eased the throttle forward, her Rafale M inching closer to the KC-10's refueling probe.

The tanker operator monitored her approach, his calm voice cutting through the radio.

"Perfect alignment, Waltz. Keep coming."

Furina glanced at her HUD, her eyes darting between the attitude guide and the refueling probe.

It was all about precision.

One wrong move? She'd break contact—or worse, damage the probe.

The distance closed, her refueling probe lining up with the tanker's boom.

Then—

Contact.

The probe latched on, and the fuel transfer began.

The tanker operator's voice returned, now filled with approval.

"Perfect, Waltz! Fuel is pumping!"

A new voice joined the radio—Jean.

"That's a perfect strike, Waltz. Good work!"

Furina chuckled, finally allowing herself to relax.

"I won't lie—this was my first time!"

Immediately, another voice cut in, filled with laughter.

"First time, my ass!" It was Mavuika, TAC Name, Kiongozi. A seasoned pilot from Primordial Squadron, from Natlan. "You did it like you're a natural!"

Furina laughed, shaking her head.

"Not a chance in hell, Kiongozi. It legit is my first time."

"I know that!" Mavuika shot back. "I was being sarcastic!"

A smirk played on Furina's lips. This was the kind of camaraderie that made missions worth it.

Minutes passed, and her fuel tanks were finally topped off.

The tanker operator came back on the radio.

"Waltz One, refueling complete. You're cleared to detach from the probe."

Furina responded immediately.

"Wilco. Detaching probe."

She eased off the throttle, letting her aircraft gently drift backward as the refueling probe detached from the tanker's boom with a slight hiss of compressed air.

The tanker's operator signed off with a final message.

"Probe detached, Waltz. Stay safe out there!"

Furina gave a quick nod, watching as her Rafale M banked gently to rejoin the formation.

The mission wasn't over yet.

Now fully fueled, she fell into formation with Primordial One, the rest of the squadron forming up beside her.

Ahead of them?

The frozen waters of Northern Snezhnaya.

The Permafrost Armada awaited.

And Waltz And Primodial Squadron was coming for them.

Moments Later.

The squadron soared through the frigid air, cutting through the sky like sharpened blades. Below them, the icy waters of Northern Snezhnaya stretched into the horizon, dark and unwelcoming. Fort Cerberus loomed ahead, its structures standing resilient against the bitter cold, its defenses primed and waiting.

Furina remained in the lead, flying in perfect formation with Jean's F-15.

To Furina's left—her squadron, Waltz Squadron.

To Jean's right—Primordial Squadron.

Each aircraft kept steady, engines humming with raw power as they neared their objective.

Then, a familiar voice crackled through the radio, lighthearted yet ever-reliable.

AWACS Visionaire.

"Hope y'all don't mind, but I'm gonna eat while I work. My judgment kinda goes fuzzy if I get hungry. Oh, anyways—Commence Operation!"

Furina chuckled, shaking her head as she tightened her grip on the stick.

"A-Alright... Waltz Squadron—Engage!"

She pushed the throttle forward, the powerful Rafale M roaring as she led the charge along the coastline.

One by one, her squadron followed.

"Waltz Two, engaging!"

"Waltz Three, engaging!"

"Waltz Four, engaging!"

"Waltz Five, engaging!"

On the other side, Primordial Squadron called in as well, their formation locked tight.

The moment of battle had arrived.

Approaching the Valley – Floating Supply Base in Sight

Furina banked left, leading her team into the valley. The air grew tense. Below them—nothing but the deep, unforgiving ocean stretching between icebergs and jagged rocks. The valley was wide, large enough to turn into a dogfighting hellscape if it came to that.

Then—contact.

The Floating Supply Base came into view, towering above the water. It was a massive structure, designed like a network of floating oil refineries, fortified and deadly.

Furina's eyes flicked across her HUD, scanning. There. A structure at the heart of the base—a core unit, possibly a weak point.

She muttered under her breath.

"If I hit the core, the whole damn thing has to collapse."

But her IFF wasn't detecting it as a target yet.

Her lips curled into a smirk.

Fine. If the system wouldn't recognize it, she'd make it recognize it.

She flicked her HUD mode, switching to manual gun sights. No lock. No guided missiles. Just pure, precise shooting.

She aligned her crosshairs.

Her grip tightened.

Then—

She squeezed the trigger.

The 30mm cannon barked to life, a hailstorm of bullets shredding into the core. Sparks flew. Metal groaned.

Furina stayed on course, getting closer—closer—

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the structure, a towering fireball shooting skyward.

Jean's voice broke through the comms.

"What was that!?"

"What happened!?" AWACS Visionaire asked, food probably halfway to his mouth.

Then, Collei's voice—half shock, half excitement.

"Waltz just took out the base's core! Very clever!"

Jean's tone shifted, impressed.

"Alright, Waltz! Everyone—target the cores!"

Their IFF displays flickered, updating with new targeting data. The entire squadron now had the structural weaknesses marked.

"Data has been sent. Go get 'em, tigers," AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

Furina grinned, her adrenaline spiking.

"Alright. Let's show them the same hospitality!"

Collei locked onto the second supply base.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

She fired a LACM, the long-range cruise missile streaking through the air.

The base's Aegis defense system roared to life, anti-missile turrets attempting to intercept. Tracers filled the sky, but—

Too late.

The missile punched through, detonating dead center.

The explosion engulfed the second base, fire blooming outward as metal snapped and collapsed, sending debris into the freezing ocean below.

"Waltz Five, that's a hit!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"Alright!" Collei cheered.

Furina swung around for another pass. She locked onto the third base.

Tone.

Lock.

"Missile away!"

She pulled hard, climbing at a sharp angle just as the missile struck.

Another direct hit.

The third base erupted into flames, tilting sideways before collapsing into the sea.

"Nice one, Waltz! That's another floating base down."

Then—another explosion.

This time, it was Ningguang who fired.

"Direct hit, Primordial Three!" AWACS called.

The enemy finally reacted. Their radio crackled.

"Send out the interceptors! DO NOT LET THEM DESTROY THE SUPPLY BASE!"

A new alert flashed across their HUDs.

"Enemy fighters inbound!" AWACS Justice warned. "They launched from the Floating Air Base up northwest!"

Jean wasted no time.

"Take out the remaining supply base!"

Raiden got a lock.

"Fox Three!"

The missile launched—but missed, slamming into reinforced concrete walls.

"Damn it!" Raiden cursed.

AWACS Visionaire cut in.

"Raiden, that's a miss! The core is covered by heavy concrete walls!"

Furina's eyes darted around, analyzing—then she spotted it.

"Raiden! Aim for the support beam underneath!"

"Wilco! Making another pass!"

Raiden circled around, flying lower to get an angle.

Meanwhile, Furina lined up her sights on the fifth base's core.

Two locks.

Two tones.

Two missiles away.

"Fox Three!"

"Bombs away!"

Both missiles connected.

The two bases erupted in unison, collapsing like dominoes.

"That's the valley base down!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed. "Onto the next one!"

On the enemy's comms—panic.

"Commander! We lost the entire valley base!"

A voice—furious, demanding.

"WHAT!? By WHO!?"

"I—I don't know, sir! Survivors said the plane had a golden crown on the tail!"

Furina smirked.

"Heh. Now I'm popular."

Wriothesley chuckled.

"Cons of being an actor, huh, Waltz?"

"Shut it, Wolfbite."

AWACS Visionaire returned.

"Primordial Squadron's in a dogfight. They can handle it, but you have a choice—support them, or take out the floating airbase. Your call, Waltz One."

Furina quickly made her decision.

"Alright. Waltz Four and Five—break off and support Primordial Squadron. Waltz Two and Three—we're taking out that floating airbase!"

"Wilco! Waltz Five, breaking off!" Collei confirmed.

"Roger! Waltz Four, breaking off!" Eula added.

The two F-15s veered back, heading toward the fight.

Furina, Clorinde, and Wriothesley pushed forward toward the floating airbase.

"I have a visual on the target!"

The floating fortress loomed ahead—the heart of the enemy's aerial defense.

Clorinde's voice crackled over the radio again.

"They have cores! Just like the floating supply base!"

Furina's eyes locked onto the structure ahead, scanning it. Three massive cores, each one integrated into the airbase's central support structure, all connected by the runway above. A similar design to the supply bases—but this one was bigger, more fortified.

She nodded sharply, gripping the stick.

"Alright. Waltz Two and Three—form up on my wings. Follow my lead!"

"Wilco, Waltz One," Clorinde responded, slotting into formation on Furina's left.

"Roger. Forming up to your right side, Waltz One," Wriothesley added, steadying into position.

The trio moved as a single unit, banking hard in unison, angling back toward the airbase.

The target loomed larger.

This was it.

Their HUDs blinked—all three cores locked.

Tone.

Lock.

Furina smirked.

"Fox Three!"

Her LACM streaked toward the middle core.

"Fox Three!" Clorinde called next.

Her missile fired, a deadly projectile homing in on the left core.

"Fox Three!" Wriothesley followed.

The final LACM launched, streaking toward the right core.

"Everyone, break away! Get ready for a dogfight!" Furina barked.

The three of them split instantly—Furina pulled hard up, Clorinde veered left, Wriothesley dived right, evading any potential return fire.

Then—

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

The floating air base erupted into three towering fireballs, shockwaves rippling through the valley. Flames and debris shot into the sky as the runway above buckled, cracked, then collapsed entirely.

AWACS Justice's voice came through, triumphant.

"Waltz One, Two, and Three—the floating air base is destroyed! Nice work!"

Furina grinned.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

But then—a new alert flashed across their HUDs.

IFF signatures—multiple.

Incoming fighters.

The battle wasn't over yet.

The Enemy Fighters Arrive

AWACS Visionaire broke the news.

"Heads up, Waltz Squadron. Bandits inbound—old-generation fighters, but still dangerous if they swarm you!"

The radar flashed—F-14s, F-4s, MiG-21s.

Outdated—but still deadly in numbers.

Furina locked onto a MiG-21, the sleek fighter frantically twisting to shake her off.

But it was too slow.

It simply couldn't outmaneuver her Rafale M—she shadowed it perfectly, mirroring every dodge, every desperate roll.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder detached, spiraling toward its target.

The MiG-21 exploded instantly, debris scattering in all directions.

"Splash one, Waltz!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

Furina was already turning for the next target when—

An F-14 tomcat flew right over her.

Big mistake.

She laughed darkly, rolling her shoulders.

"You fucking dumbass."

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder shot forward. The F-14 pilot tried to bank—too late.

Direct hit.

The Tomcat erupted, flames devouring its frame as it spiraled down in a burning wreck.

"Another splash for Waltz One!" AWACS confirmed.

Furina was already searching for the next target—but suddenly—

Blaring alarm.

"Waltz One! Missile inbound!"

Furina's heartbeat spiked—but she didn't panic.

Her eyes flicked to the HUD. Mid-turn. Shit.

A deadly position.

A normal pilot would panic, drop flares too early, or try to out-speed it. But Furina wasn't normal.

She grinned.

"Let's dance."

She kicked the rudders hard right.

Then—hard left.

Then—twisted the stick sharply left and pulled hard.

The Rafale M spun—yawing an entire 360 degrees mid-air.

Her nose pitched up, body twisting like a blade, pushing the fighter into an unorthodox stall.

The missile streaked past—missing her by inches.

Then, in a fluid motion, she regained control, kicking the jet back into a streamlined trajectory.

The battlefield went silent for a moment.

"HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT!?"

It was Primordial Two—Amber, practically screaming over comms.

"That was fucking awesome!"

"What? What!?" Collei, desperate to know what she missed.

"Waltz One just pulled off a 360 Yaw Evasion!" Ningguang, her voice laced with awe.

Furina chuckled, shaking her head.

But her eyes locked onto her attacker.

The F-4 Phantom.

Her turn.

"Il est temps de rencontrer votre créateur."

She lined up her shot.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

The HCAA missile launched.

The Phantom never stood a chance.

Direct hit.

"Splash one, Waltz!" AWACS confirmed once more.

Then—finally, good news.

"With the air base destroyed, this must be the last of the interceptors. Primordial Squadron dealt with the ones from the base."

Furina exhaled, rolling her shoulders.

"Then let's not waste time."

A new waypoint blinked on the HUD.

"Onto the fleet to the northeast."

Furina smirked, gripping the controls as her HUD locked onto the distant naval fleet.

"Wilco. Waltz One, engaging."

She slammed the throttles forward—her twin M88 engines roared to life, afterburners blazing as she accelerated toward the enemy formation.

She flew low, mere feet above the water, her Rafale M skimming across the waves.

The ground effect kicked in—water rippled violently behind her, dragged upward by the sheer force of her jet.

She locked onto the first target—a Snezhnayan aircraft carrier.

Tone.

Lock.

"Bombs away!"

A LACM streaked from beneath her jet, its fiery exhaust trail cutting through the sky as it barreled toward the massive vessel.

A direct hit.

BOOM.

A massive explosion erupted from the carrier's deck, metal plates warping from the sheer force. Flames tore through the hull—the towering structure tilted, water rushing into its wounds.

It was sinking. Fast.

"Nice work, Waltz! That's the aircraft carrier down!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

But the warning came moments later.

"Be advised, all squadrons—attack from either high above or low! The fleet is equipped with CIWS auto-defense turrets!"

Furina gritted her teeth—so they were expecting airstrikes.

Another enemy transmission cut through the static, desperate and rage-filled.

"TAKE THAT PLANE WITH THE GOLD CROWN OUT OF THE SKIES!"

She chuckled darkly.

"Try it, connard."

Another pass.

Her HUD locked onto a cruiser, its anti-air turrets swiveling toward her.

Tone.

Lock.

"Bon voyage!"

The LACM detached—a perfect hit.

The cruiser detonated violently. Metal shrapnel sprayed outward, and within seconds, the ship tipped to its side, swallowed by the ocean.

"Another one down, Waltz!" AWACS Visionaire called out.

Then—more explosions.

"Primordial One, cruiser down!"

"Primordial Five, cruiser down!"

"Waltz Three, another cruiser down!"

The Snezhnayan fleet was crumbling.

Their radio chatter was breaking down—panic setting in.

"We lost 40% of the fleet! We need to surrender!"

"NO! WE SNEZHNAYANS DON'T SURRENDER! WE FIGHT TO THE END! FIRE EVERYTHING!"

But firing was useless—they were being attacked from two angles.

From above.

From below.

No escape.

Furina turned her attention to the largest carrier in the formation—the pride of the Snezhnayan fleet.

This was their flagship. Their symbol of dominance.

She'd tear it apart.

Lock.

Tone.

"Bon voyage, connard!"

The LACM launched.

A perfect hit.

Fire tore through the entire superstructure, secondary explosions ripped apart the hull, and the once-mighty carrier began its descent into the depths.

Furina yanked the sidestick back hard, pulling into a steep climb to avoid slamming into the waves.

Her Rafale shuddered, the control surfaces straining under the sudden pull.

She barely made it.

She let out a laugh—half exhilarated, half relieved.

"That's too close, Furina!" she muttered to herself.

"Good save, Waltz!" Jean's voice cut in. "Help me take down these planes!"

Furina nodded sharply.

"Wilco, Dandelion! Waltz One engaging with Primordial One!"

As the fleet burned, the remaining enemy aircraft fought desperately to hold their ground.

Furina's HUD flickered—a lock on an AH-64 Apache.

"Fox Two!"

Her Sidewinder missile launched, twisting through the air before slamming into the Apache's fuselage.

BOOM.

The helicopter disintegrated mid-air—no chance of survival.

"Splash one, Waltz!" AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

Meanwhile, Jean chased down an F-14A.

The older Tomcat banked hard, trying to evade—but then, its left engine coughed, spitting flames.

Jean grinned.

"A compressor stall. Fatal choice choosing the 14A's."

The F-14 spun out of control—stalling, then spiraling into a flat spin.

Jean didn't waste time.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder missile streaked forward, hitting the belly of the Tomcat.

The jet snapped in half.

"Splash one, Primordial One!" AWACS called.

Then—another explosion.

A fourth aircraft carrier erupted into flames.

"Aircraft carrier destroyed, Waltz Five! Good work!"

Then. A desperate voce crackled through the radio.

"I'M BEING LOCKED!"

Collei's panicked voice crackled through the comms.

Furina's heart pounded.

She broke away, snapping her jet toward Collei's position.

An MiG-21 was tailing her, its nose locked in—moments away from firing.

Furina gritted her teeth, adjusting her HUD.

She couldn't get a lock from this distance.

"Come on, come on—GIVE ME TONE! GIVE ME TONE!"

Her fingers tightened on the stick. She had seconds.

Then—

Lock.

Tone.

"Cuilenen, BREAK LEFT!"

Collei yanked her jet into a hard left turn—just in time.

"Fox Three!"

Her LRAAM shot forward.

A direct hit—right through the MiG-21's cockpit.

The jet exploded instantly—debris scattered into the sea.

"Splash one, Waltz!" AWACS confirmed.

Collei sighed in relief.

"Thanks for the assist, Waltz!"

"Anytime!~"

Then—another explosion.

AWACS Visionaire's voice crackled over the comms.

"Splash one, Primordial One!"

Then, the final confirmation came through.

"That's the last of the interceptors."

Then—

A final explosion.

The last of the naval fleet detonated in a violent fireball.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed it.

"And that's the last of the fleet!"

The Snezhnayan navy had been wiped out.

Furina grinned, her jet cutting through the smoke-filled sky.

"Mission complete."

The radio crackled to life, and AWACS Visionaire's voice boomed across the comms.

"All enemy targets destroyed! Let's all head home and pop ourselves a bottle of ice-cold beer!"

For the first time since the battle started, the comms erupted in cheers and laughter.

"Alright!"

"Let's go!"

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Furina grinned, adrenaline still surging through her veins. She punched the air twice, her Rafale rocking slightly from the movement.

"Hell yeah! Awesome work, Waltz Squadron!"

Jean's voice followed, smooth and composed despite the intensity of the battle they'd just fought.

"And great work, Primordial Squadron. RTB."

They were going home.

Then, Eula's voice cut through the chatter—her tone half-serious, half-amused.

"Heh. Waltz is the one that chased off that experimental drone. She's the pilot that's up against a demon in that thing… and that squadron."

The comms fell quiet for a second, letting the weight of her words settle.

Then she continued, her tone carrying a hint of respect—and warning.

"She single-handedly chased down The Knave and gave her a few rounds into her ass. You all know where I'm getting at, right?"

The replies came instantly.

"Yep."

"That's right."

"Yeah."

Furina chuckled to herself but said nothing—she let them talk.

Eula wasn't done yet.

"If you were part of the enemy… and you saw a white, dark grey, sky blue, and dark blue, aircraft, with a gold crown painted on its tail, break formation…"

A pause.

"I'd watch your ass. Or I'd say my last rites."

The radio fell silent again, but this time it wasn't from hesitation.

It was acknowledgment.

Waltz One wasn't just a callsign anymore.

It was a warning.

With the battle behind them, the two squadrons climbed to cruising altitude, their aircraft cutting through the sky like shadows against the setting sun.

Their new destination: Iron Gale Air Force Base.

A place where they could finally breathe.

At least… for now.

Mission complete.

A Victorious Return

Hours later, every pilot had returned home, safe and sound.

No casualties.

No damage.

And a victorious operation.

The mood in the briefing room was electric despite the exhaustion that weighed on everyone.

Jean stood at the front, watching as the mission's timeline replayed on the display—explosions, confirmed kills, and the slow disintegration of the enemy's naval fleet.

She turned to face the two squadrons, a small smile forming.

"Good work, Waltz and Primordial Squadron. This operation was a massive success. We did more to hobble the enemy's naval fleet than we expected."

Jean crossed her arms, nodding toward the screen.

"Because we took all of them out."

A ripple of pride swept through the room, murmurs of satisfaction exchanged between pilots.

"Because of this, our allies down south can finally make the offensive northward."

Her voice shifted slightly, taking on a more serious edge.

"And in addition, this allows us to prepare for our next operation."

Jean's blue eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening like a blade.

"Taking out the Sepharis Bird. The Karatel."

The room fell into complete silence.

Everyone knew what that meant.

That monster was still out there.

Jean exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

"We still have a long road ahead of us."

Her gaze softened as she looked at her squadron.

"Go get some rest while you can."

A final pause.

"Dismissed."

The briefing room erupted into movement—pilots stretching, sighing, cracking jokes, and exchanging fist bumps as they filtered out. Some headed for the cafeteria, eager to celebrate their victory with hot food and cold drinks. Others went straight to their rooms, letting exhaustion finally pull them under.

But Furina?

She had somewhere else to be.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant hum of jet engines cooling down and the occasional murmur of night-shift personnel below.

Furina stood at the edge, hands resting on the railing as she gazed up at the vast night sky.

It was clear tonight.

Endless stars.

Shooting stars.

A celestial masterpiece painted across the heavens.

Her lips curled into a small, genuine smile—one that had nothing to do with battle, missions, or victories.

"Times like this put me at peace…"

She let out a slow breath, the cold night air cooling the fire in her veins.

But then, something stirred inside her.

A new kind of peace.

One she hadn't known before.

Her mind drifted, flashing through images of her squadron.

Eula.

Jean.

Amber.

Collei.

Clorinde and Wriothesley.

And the others.

The people who had fought beside her. Who had laughed with her. Who had her back in the skies.

Her family.

Her allies.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting that thought settle deep in her chest.

"Yeah… my family and allies."

And for once, Furina wasn't thinking about the next mission.

She was just living in this moment.

Under the stars.

At peace.