Wings of the Stars

The Calm Before the Storm

With the Sepharis Bird Karatel down, the tides of war had shifted dramatically. The once-occupied territories across Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, Fontaine, and Natlan were now freed, reclaimed in swift counteroffensives led by the Teyvat Union Peacekeeping Force (TUPF).

Now, the combined ground and air forces of the liberated nations were on the attack, pushing deeper into mainland Snezhnaya with an unstoppable momentum.

In just three weeks, they had already secured the majority of eastern Snezhnaya, cutting a burning path westward toward the capital, Morepesok. Victory was closer than ever.

But Snezhnaya, cornered and desperate, refused to go down quietly.

In a last-ditch effort, they began preparing a trump card—one that had been hidden for over two years.

The Razu-class submarine.

Specifically, the Razushitzel—a twin nuclear reactor-powered, large nuclear submarine built for nothing less than mass destruction.

It had vanished two and a half years ago, presumed lost at sea, until it was miraculously recovered months before the war began—intact, fully operational, and with its entire crew alive.

Now, the Snezhnayan Navy was racing to reactivate and commission the monstrous vessel back into service. If they succeeded, it could change everything.

The air at Iron Gale was eerily calm—too calm.

For three weeks, the TSSG had seen zero action.

It felt unnatural.

Furina stood atop a ladder, cleaning the canopy of her Dassault Rafale—a chore she hadn't done in ages. With a microfiber cloth in one hand and a glass cleaner spray in the other, she wiped down the glass, watching it reflect the vast blue sky above.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she wiped it away with her sleeve.

"Man… I need to see some action." She exhaled, shaking her head. "We've been sitting on our asses for weeks."

A chuckle came from below.

"Hopefully soon." Clorinde leaned against a nearby maintenance cart, arms crossed. "The operation to capture the capital is closing in fast."

Collei nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure Jean has something planned."

Eula stretched, rolling her shoulders. "Well, all we can do is wait for word from HQ."

Wriothesley let out an annoyed sigh, crossing his arms. "Whatever it is, it better be worth this bullshit wait."

"Relax." Mavuika smirked, leaning against the hangar wall. "We're a strike group, not the regular Air Force. We don't sortie just for the hell of it."

Ningguang nodded in agreement. "Exactly. The TSSG isn't like the usual squadrons. We're deployed for high-impact missions—not daily skirmishes."

Furina continued wiping down the top of her canopy. "Right… so the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group recruits aces from all the other nations, oui?"

Amber grinned. "Yep. Each nation has its own air force—like the Mondstadt Air Force, Liyue's Sky Guard, and the Fontaine Aeronavale. But the TSSG?" She gestured around. "We're the best of the best. Aces from all over."

She motioned to herself, Jean, and Eula.

"Jean, Eula, and I? All from the Mondstadt Air Force. Served in the same squadron. Ningguang's from Liyue. Mavuika's Natlan. Ei's from Inazuma."

Then she placed a hand on Collei's shoulder.

"And this one? Collei's the youngest Air Force pilot in all of Teyvat. And the youngest ace too."

Collei chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yep. Just turned 19 back in May 8th. A week later, I got scrambled from Windrise Air Force Base to defend it."

Amber grinned. "And out of the thirty hostiles? She took down fourteen!"

Furina's eyes widened. "Fourteen?! Holy shit. In my first sortie, I only bagged eleven!"

Before anyone could respond, a new voice cut through the air.

Ei, TAC name Raiden, strode into the hangar.

"We got new orders. Jean's waiting in the briefing room."

Furina glanced at her watch. 10:30 AM.

"Finally. Alright, we're coming."

She climbed down from the ladder, placing the cloth and spray by the wall. Taking a deep breath, she followed the others toward the main building—toward whatever mission awaited them.

Because if Jean was calling a briefing, it meant one thing.

Shit was about to go down.

Operation Iron Sight

Moments later, the pilots arrived at the briefing room, filing in one by one and settling into their seats. The air was thick with anticipation—the first real mission in three weeks.

At the front of the room, Jean stood on the stage, posture firm, eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. Behind her, the display screen was already lit, casting a blue glow over the dimly lit space.

As the last pilot took their seat, she cleared her throat and began.

"Alright. We've just received new orders from HQ. This mission marks the end of our dormancy. As of now, the TSSG is officially in the offensive toward the capital."

A holographic map of Teyvat appeared on the display, split between red and blue—enemy-controlled zones and allied territories, respectively.

The old data played first, showing what the situation had looked like three weeks ago—a Snezhnaya-dominated battlefield, red stretching across almost the entire map.

Jean continued.

"Three weeks ago, with the destruction of the Sepharis Bird Karatel, we crippled Snezhnaya's aerial defense network—cut it clean in half."

The map shifted. The red areas shrank while blue surged forward, swallowing entire territories. The new frontline was clear.

"Our allied forces seized the opportunity and pushed into Snezhnaya, launching a massive counteroffensive toward the capital, Morepesok."

The map zoomed in on Snezhnaya. Once almost fully red, it now showed half-blue—a massive shift in control.

Jean folded her arms.

"In just three weeks, we've taken half of the continent. Snezhnaya is feeling the pressure, and they're getting desperate."

Her expression darkened.

"To turn the tide back in their favor, they're taking drastic measures. Including the reactivation of a classified asset—the Razushitzel."

Murmurs rippled through the room. The name was infamous.

Jean continued.

"The Razushitzel is a Razu-class, twin nuclear reactor-powered submarine. It disappeared two and a half years ago—went completely dark. But recently, it was recovered. Fully intact. Fully operational. With its entire crew alive."

She exhaled sharply.

"And now, Snezhnaya is preparing to bring it back into service."

The tension in the room tightened. If the Razushitzel was recommissioned, it could alter the course of the war.

Jean, however, raised a hand.

"But that's not our mission. Our concern is elsewhere."

She pressed a button on the podium. The map shifted again, this time highlighting a location in Snezhnaya's western plains—a place marked Taynopol.

"The Suburban Plains of Taynopol. That's where we're headed."

The map zoomed in further, revealing multiple red-marked locations. IRBM silos.

Jean's gaze sharpened.

"Snezhnaya is attempting to activate an IRBM missile to regain lost ground. If they succeed, it'll set us back weeks—maybe months."

The display updated, showing satellite images of the silos.

"In the past 48 hours, they've been working around the clock—dumping resources, manpower, and logistics into this project. They've already entered the latter stages of launch preparation."

A rendered cutaway of an underground IRBM silo appeared on-screen.

Jean turned to face the room.

"The silos are buried deep. We can't just level the area and hope for the best. We need precision strikes."

She clicked another button, and the image of two B-2 Spirit bombers materialized.

"That's why we're coordinating with the Mondstadt 608th Bomb Squadron. They're deploying two B-2 Spirit bombers for this mission."

The murmurs intensified. The B-2s were stealth bombers, capable of precision strikes from high altitudes. If they were involved, this mission wasn't just important—it was critical.

Jean continued.

"But there's a problem."

The map shifted to weather data. Heavy cloud coverage filled the airspace over Taynopol.

"The entire area is covered in thick clouds. Our bombers won't have direct sight on the silos. Normally, we'd wait for the weather to clear—but we're out of time."

She turned back to them, her expression unwavering.

"That's where we come in."

The display updated again, showing a targeting pod's crosshair locked onto a silo.

"One of us will be equipped with a targeting pod. Their job is to fly in low, visually identify the silos, and laser-designate them for the bombers."

She pointed at the crosshair.

"Once you're locked in, the bombers will drop their payload directly on your target. Your only job?"

She paused, letting the tension settle.

"Keep that crosshair dead center until impact."

A moment of silence passed. Everyone understood what that meant. No mistakes. No second chances. If the targeting failed, the entire operation failed.

Jean took a breath before continuing.

"It will take high-level airmanship to keep the laser locked on target while guiding bombs from high-altitude bombers. If you slip up, we miss. And if we miss? The IRBM launches."

She clicked the button again.

"Additionally, enemy ground forces are stationed near the silos. Expect AA defenses, APCs, and infantry patrols."

The atmosphere in the room had shifted—no more idle chatter. Everyone was focused.

Jean's gaze swept across the room.

"And one last thing."

A roster update appeared on screen.

"During the offensive, we suffered human and material losses. To conserve resources, Primordial One, Three, and Four will sit this one out."

She tapped the screen again.

"Primordial Two and Five will be temporarily reassigned as Waltz Six and Seven."

Then she turned her gaze to Furina.

"Waltz. You're assigned the targeting pod. We're counting on you to assist the bombers and destroy those silos."

A beat of silence. Then Furina nodded, her expression unreadable.

Jean gave a firm nod in return.

"That's all."

She straightened.

"Sortie and come back in one piece."

The pilots stood, the tension in the room shifting into determination. Helmets in hand, they filed out of the briefing room, heading for the apron hangars where their jets awaited.

Jean watched them leave.

By her side, Ei and Ningguang remained, their gazes fixed on the operation timeline displayed before them.

The mission had begun.

And if they failed—Snezhnaya would strike back.

Pre-Flight Preparations

Moments later, the squadron arrived at the hangars, moving with purpose.

On the right, Mavuika and Amber split off, heading toward their assigned aircraft.

To the left, Waltz Squadron proceeded toward their own hangars, each pilot focused, their expressions set with determination.

The distant hum of jet engines filled the air as mechanics and ground crew moved swiftly, making final checks and adjustments.

Furina's eyes fell on her Rafale, stationed under the hangar's lights. The Damocles Targeting Pod had just been installed, a crucial piece of equipment for the mission.

A mechanic, wiping the sweat from his brow, stepped back from the fuselage and raised a thumbs-up.

"Captain Furina! It's ready to sortie!"

Furina returned the gesture with a nod.

"Thanks, guys."

Without wasting time, she climbed the ladder that had been placed beside her aircraft earlier. The jet was already running, left on standby from when she had cleaned the canopy earlier.

Settling into the cockpit, she strapped herself in, fastening the harness over her shoulders with practiced efficiency. The helmet clicked into place, and she quickly ran through her pre-flight checks, fingers gliding over the controls.

The left-side display flickered, transitioning from the navigation HUD to the Damocles Targeting Pod feed. The black-and-white thermal camera powered on, its lens sweeping across the hangar in a smooth motion.

Furina leaned slightly outside the cockpit, raising her voice over the sound of whirring engines.

"The targeting pod is working!"

One of the mechanics, standing near the nose of the aircraft, cupped his hands and called back:

"Wilco, Captain Furina! Good luck with the mission!"

Furina gave a small smirk, then leaned back into her seat, closing the canopy with a firm hiss.

The cockpit lights adjusted, and she began inputting the TACAN waypoints into the flight system. With a final deep breath, she secured her oxygen mask, listening to the steady hiss of the air supply.

Time to move.

Furina pressed the radio switch on her control stick.

"Waltz Squadron, callsign checks."

One by one, the responses came in—crisp, clear, and disciplined.

 "Waltz Two, Rapperia."

"Waltz Three, Wolfbite."

"Waltz Four, Spindrift."

"Waltz Five, Cuilenen."

"Waltz Six, Outrider."

"Waltz Seven, Kiongozi."

The squadron was locked in. No hesitation. No wasted words.

Furina nodded to herself, then disengaged the parking brakes.

With a slight nudge of the throttle, her Rafale rolled forward, taxiing onto the main tarmac.

"Waltz One, taxiing to runway."

One by one, her squadron followed suit, forming a disciplined line as they taxied toward the runway under the warm glow of the early morning sun.

The radio crackled again—ATC clearance.

"Waltz One, you are cleared for departure. Climb and maintain FL300. Execute departure procedures as briefed. Good luck out there."

Furina tightened her grip on the stick.

"Waltz One, rolling."

She advanced the throttle, feeling the surge of power as her Rafale shot forward down the runway.

The engines roared, the cockpit rattled, and in mere seconds, she felt the nose lift.

With a smooth pull, her aircraft lifted off, cutting through the sky as the landing gear retracted beneath her.

"Waltz One, airborne."

Behind her, the rest of Waltz Squadron launched in 30-second increments, each jet streaking into the sky like predators taking flight.

Their destination—Taynopol, deep in the heart of Snezhnaya.

The flight would take an hour and a half, including mid-air refueling over the frozen north.

From here on out, there was no turning back.

The mission had begun.

Operation Iron Sight

Hours later.

The seven jets of Waltz Squadron soared into Taynopol's airspace, the formation tight—a V-shape cutting through the sky like a blade.

Above them, the sky stretched out in endless gray layers of cloud, thick and heavy, rolling like waves in an ocean of mist. Below, Snezhnaya's frozen plains stretched for miles, a bleak and hostile landscape.

Then, the radio crackled to life.

AWACS Visionaire had entered the airspace, the airborne command center now in play.

"Alright, now that our Waltz folks have arrived, you can commence the operation."

A brief pause. Then Visionaire continued.

"Snezhnaya has five IRBM missiles. Which means five silos. But that's just speculation."

"Intel claims that of the five, some of them are fake."

There was a moment of silence before he casually added:

"Well, you know how it is. Seek and destroy."

Then, in the background—he wasn't even off-mic—Visionaire turned to someone inside the E-3 Sentry.

"Oh, and hand me that cheeseburger."

Furina let out a small chuckle.

"Alright, Visionaire."

Her amusement faded, eyes narrowing as she focused on the mission.

"Waltz Squadron—engage and break! Take down any anti-air weapons!"

With that, the formation shattered, the seven jets splitting off in different directions, streaking across the sky like shooting stars.

The radio crackled again—this time, a new voice.

"Well, it's such an honor to help out the Flying Ace herself! Waltz!"

It was the crew from Bomber One, part of the Mondstadt 608th Bombing Squadron.

"Yep, you are the terminal guidance. Happy hunting, Waltz!"

Furina smirked.

"Wilco."

She pushed her stick forward, sending her Rafale diving below the clouds.

The instant she broke through, her HUD lit up—the first silo came into view. A massive, reinforced underground complex, camouflaged against the snowy landscape.

Furina's gaze snapped to the targeting pod display.

The crosshairs aligned perfectly.

"I'm aligned!"

The bomber crew responded immediately.

"Wilco! Dropping a Silo Buster!"

From high above, a B-2 Spirit released its payload.

Furina eased back on the throttle, maintaining precise alignment with the target.

Seconds later—

BOOM!

A massive explosion erupted from the silo, flames and debris bursting into the sky like a volcanic eruption.

Furina pulled up, climbing out of the dive as the confirmation came through.

"Target destroyed, Waltz One! Go chow down on some more!" Visionaire's voice rang through the comms.

Then, Waltz Seven's voice broke in.

"I got a visual on a silo!"

Furina flicked her eyes to her IFF display, spotting Waltz Seven's marker.

"Wilco. Be there in two mikes."

She yanked the stick right, slamming the throttle to full power, and shot across the battlefield.

All the while, her squadron rained destruction on the ground forces below.

"Waltz Five, AA gun destroyed."

"Waltz Two, radar site destroyed."

"Waltz Three, SAM site destroyed."

"Waltz Four, enemy turret destroyed."

The radio chatter blended into the chaos as explosions rippled across the terrain, sending plumes of fire and smoke skyward.

Furina reached Waltz Seven's position, glancing down through the canopy glass.

There it was—another silo, its hatch partially open, preparing for launch.

"Got a visual! Making a pass!"

She flew past, looping around for an attack run.

Her targeting pod camera locked onto the silo.

"Bombs away!"

A B-2 Spirit overhead released another payload.

Another explosion.

Furina pulled up, banking left as Visionaire confirmed the kill.

"Another silo destroyed!"

Then, Furina's radar pinged—a third silo, farther away.

She adjusted her course, pushing the throttle forward, heading straight for it.

Then, Amber's voice crackled through.

"We need to get this done and quick. Who knows when they'll fire? Our ground troops' lives are at stake."

Kiongozi's voice followed, laced with frustration.

"They've gone completely mental!"

Furina locked eyes on the next silo, diving towards it.

Her targeting pod aligned.

"Drop the bomb!"

The B-2 pilot acknowledged immediately.

"Bombs away! Bombs away!"

Then—impact.

No explosion.

Furina's heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes narrowed as she scowled.

"What the hell!?"

Visionaire's voice came through instantly.

"Looks like that's a fake silo. Onto the next, Waltz."

Furina let out a frustrated breath, then jerked her stick right, speeding toward the next target.

The radio crackled again.

Collei was the first to speak.

"I wish the weather was better. Trying to find these damned silos is hard."

Amber sighed.

"No kidding."

Then—

AWACS Visionaire's tone suddenly sharpened.

"Enemy interceptors inbound! Heading your way! Looks like they're Eurofighter Typhoons."

The radio instantly filled with complaints.

Kiongozi was the first.

"You've got to be shitting me!"

Collei followed.

"Give me a break!"

Amber's voice came through last, her tone a mix of exasperation and adrenaline.

"I guess it's a dogfight!"

The mission had just gotten a whole lot harder.

The battle raged across Taynopol's skies—a deadly ballet of missiles, gunfire, and steel.

Furina's Rafale carved through the sky like a blade, her eyes locked on another silo below.

She dived hard, the crosshairs aligning perfectly on her targeting pod display.

"Drop it!"

A B-2 Spirit above responded immediately.

A bomb fell.

A direct hit.

Then—BOOM.

A fireball erupted from the silo, black smoke spiraling into the sky.

Furina exhaled. "Three down! Two to go!"

Then—

A loud blaring warning.

Her Rafale's radar screamed at her.

LOCK-ON DETECTED.

AWACS Visionaire's voice cut through the radio, sharp and urgent.

"Waltz! Missile! Evade!"

Furina's heart pounded. She barely had time to react—

She slammed the throttle to idle, her hands gripping the stick hard.

She yanked back—

The Rafale pitched up violently, nose skyward—

A 180-degree Pugachev Cobra.

For a brief moment, her jet flew backward.

A bold, insane maneuver—at this altitude, it was suicide.

But—she had a shot.

The Typhoon flashed in front of her canopy, now dead-center.

Lock.

Tone.

Furina's thumb hit the trigger.

"Fox Two!"

A Sidewinder screamed off her rail.

The missile streaked forward—direct impact.

The Typhoon exploded, its wreckage spiraling down in flames before crashing into the ground below.

Furina snapped her controls forward, regaining control, her Rafale rolling level before she climbed hard, escaping the blast zone.

Her breath was ragged.

"I'm not doing that at low altitudes again!"

AWACS Visionaire's voice rang in her ears.

"Splash one, Waltz. Good work."

Then, the bomber crew chimed in, laughing.

"Looks like Waltz is back to killing the bad guys! Awesome!"

Furina smirked, then snapped right, heading for the next silo.

As Furina closed in, more reports came through the radio.

"Splash one, Waltz Seven."

"Splash one, Waltz Five."

"Enemy Typhoon destroyed, Waltz Two."

"Splash one, Waltz Six."

The dogfight was intensifying, aircraft twisting and turning in the chaos above the battlefield.

Furina's eyes flicked to her radar—

She was almost there.

She found the next silo.

A steep dive.

The crosshairs aligned.

"Bombs away!"

The B-2 Spirit responded immediately.

Another payload fell.

Another explosion.

Furina climbed through the smoke, banking hard left.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"Fourth IRBM destroyed! One more to go!"

Furina broke left, heading straight for the final silo.

While she hunted the last silo, the battle on the other side of the airspace was reaching its peak.

Collei's F-15E Strike Eagle twisted through the sky, trying to shake a Typhoon off her tail.

"Ugh! Get this fucker out of my ass!" she growled.

Amber, flying just behind, struggled to get a clean shot.

"Come on! Stay still, you piece of piece of multinational garbage!"

Her trigger finger hovered over the trigger—but it was too risky. If she fired now, she could hit Collei instead.

Collei's frustration boiled over.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I've had it! FUCK YOU!"

She split the throttle levers.

She yanked Engine One to idle.

Then slammed Engine Two to full afterburner.

The jet roared.

She pulled hard left—

At the same time, she kicked her left foot to the left rudder pedal all the way to the left.

Her F-15E pitched up, banking past 90 degrees, rolling into an unorthodox, high-G spiral dive.

The Typhoon tried to follow—

But couldn't keep up.

That was all Amber needed.

Lock.

Tone.

"Fox Two!"

A Sidewinder shrieked off her rail.

Direct hit.

The Typhoon exploded, debris scattering through the sky.

AWACS Visionaire radioed in.

"Splash one, Waltz Six!"

Amber glanced to her left—just in time to see Collei's F-15 soar past her from below.

Her eyes widened.

"Holy shit, Cuilenen! Great move!"

Collei chuckled.

"That's why I'm Sumeru's Ace!"

Across the battlefield—Furina locked eyes on the last silo.

She flew past, looping around for the final strike.

"I have a visual! Turning around!"

Her Rafale curved gracefully, coming in for the final dive.

She dove hard, eyes glued to the targeting pod.

The crosshairs aligned.

"Release the hound!"

The B-2 bomber crew responded instantly.

"Hounds released!"

The final bomb fell.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

BOOM.

A massive fireball engulfed the last silo, sending metal and debris flying in every direction.

Furina climbed high, flying through the black smoke.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"That's all their silos! Good work!"

But the battle wasn't over yet.

The skies over Taynopol were silent—but only for a moment.

Then—SIRENS.

A deep, wailing alarm blared across the plains, the sound echoing through the mountains.

Mavuika's voice cut through the radio.

"Wait. What the hell is that noise!?"

Amber groaned, dreading the answer.

"Please don't make it worse…"

But it was worse.

Not far from Furina's position, a Hydro Dam stood tall against the land.

And behind it—

Water churned, spiraling into a circle.

A roaring column of smoke erupted into the sky.

Then—

A flash.

An IRBM missile launched.

Furina's eyes widened.

She snapped her head right, then slammed her palm against the canopy glass.

"SHIT! IT LAUNCHED!"

Her instincts kicked in instantly.

She yanked the sidestick hard right, her Rafale banking aggressively as she rolled into pursuit.

Her throttle hit full afterburner.

"WALTZ ONE ENGAGING THE IRBM!"

AWACS Visionaire cut in.

"Wilco. Chase it down!"

Then—another warning.

"Alert! More interceptors inbound! Waltz Squadron, provide support for Waltz One!"

The responses came in rapid succession.

"Wilco!"

"Roger!"

"Wilco!"

"Wilco!"

"Roger that!"

"Wilco!"

The IRBM climbed hard—a vertical ascent, its speed increasing every second.

Furina's Rafale roared behind it, engines pushed to their limits.

She pulled back on the stick, her own climb going vertical.

Her speed bled away, but—

She was close enough.

TONE.

LOCK.

Her index finger flicked the trigger.

"FOX TWO!"

Two Sidewinders screamed off the rails.

Furina threw her jet into an inverted dive, rolling out before stabilizing her descent.

She barely had time to breathe—

Then—A MASSIVE EXPLOSION.

Her Rafale vibrated violently from the shockwave.

AWACS Visionaire's voice rang out.

"IRBM destroyed!"

Furina barely had time to recover before—

ANOTHER ALARM.

AWACS came back.

"Looks like they launched the final IRBM! Bearing zero-one-five!"

Furina gritted her teeth, her throttle still jammed forward.

Her afterburners roared, flames licking from the exhaust nozzles.

Then—

A SONIC BOOM.

She had broken the sound barrier.

Collei, still dogfighting below, glanced up.

Her jaw dropped.

"Holy shit, LOOK AT FURINA!"

Furina caught sight of the missile—already climbing high.

She yanked the stick back.

Her Rafale pulled up sharply.

Condensation flared off her wings.

G-forces slammed her into her seat.

She grunted, fighting to stay conscious.

8 Gs.

9 Gs.

10 Gs.

She leveled into a perfect vertical climb.

She was closing the gap fast.

Then—

TONE.

LOCK.

Her index finger hits the trigger.

"FOX TWO!"

Nothing.

Then—

ANOTHER ALARM.

Her eyes flicked to the screen.

AMMUNITION: ZERO.

Furina's face twisted with frustration.

She slammed her palm against the top of her main panel.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

No missiles left.

Only one option.

She switched to guns.

Her thumb squeezed the trigger.

The Rafale's 30mm cannon fired.

A burst of rounds tore into the missile's fuselage.

Then—

BOOM.

The IRBM detonated in mid-air.

Furina cut throttle to idle, then hit her spoilerons—slowing her climb and speed.

She then flipped inverted, then dived back down, before leveling off at a stable altitude.

She exhaled sharply, trying to steady her breath after the brutal G-forces.

AWACS Visionaire broke the silence.

"That's the last of the missiles! Form up on Waltz One and return to base! Great work!"

One by one, the aircraft formed up on Furina, heading back toward Iron Gale.

She reached up, tugging her oxygen mask off, breathing deeply.

Then—

"Fuck… Fuck me…" she muttered, still processing what just happened.

"That… That was something else…"

Amber came over the radio, her voice tinged with relief.

"That was too close… Had Furina not caught up… I don't know…"

The bomber pilots chimed in.

"We were sweating like pinballs here… And worst of all, we couldn't do a damn thing about it."

Then, after a pause—

"Glad we were part of the operation though! Pleasure working with you, Waltz Squadron."

Furina smirked slightly, still catching her breath.

She lifted her mask back to her lips.

"And thanks for the bombing support."

The B-2 Spirit banked left, returning to Mainland Mondstadt.

And as the Waltz Squadron soared toward home, one thought lingered in Furina's mind—

Today… was too close for comfort.

But tomorrow?

Who knew what hell awaited?

The sunset painted Iron Gale in hues of orange and gold, casting long shadows over the runways as the Waltz Squadron touched down.

Their mission was over.

They had stopped the IRBM attack.

And now… it was time to go home.

Returning to Base

Furina carefully climbed down from her Rafale, her legs trembling slightly from exhaustion.

The G-forces from chasing the second missile had taken their toll—her body ached, every muscle sore from the intense maneuvers.

Before she could take another step, Collei and Clorinde rushed toward her.

"Let us give you a hand, Captain."

Collei's voice was gentle yet firm.

Furina sighed, a small smile creeping onto her face as she draped her arms over their shoulders.

"Thanks, guys."

She took a deep breath before glancing toward the command building.

"Come on. We still have the debriefing with Jean."

Clorinde gave a sharp nod.

"Right. Let's go, Collei."

With her squadmates supporting her, Furina walked toward the briefing room, her body heavy but her spirit soaring.

Minutes later, the briefing room was filled with a sense of satisfaction.

The display screen replayed key moments from the mission timeline—each airstrike, each dogfight, each silo destroyed.

But Furina?

She barely paid attention.

Her breath was slow, her body still recovering, slumped slightly in her chair.

Then, Jean's voice filled the room.

"Good work, Waltz Squadron. We successfully prevented a ballistic missile attack on captured territory and saved countless troops in the process."

A murmur of pride passed through the squadron.

Even without their unit commander, they had pulled off one of the most daring air battles yet.

But Jean wasn't done.

She tapped the screen, switching to a strategic map.

"Final preparations are being made for a long-range operation…"

The room went quiet.

They all knew what was coming next.

Jean's gaze was sharp as she spoke.

"Seizing the capital of Snezhnaya—Morepesok."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Everyone knew what that meant.

This war was reaching its climax.

Jean exhaled, nodding firmly.

"Everyone is dismissed. Good work."

One by one, the pilots stood up, exchanging nods and weary smiles before filtering out into the base.

All except one.

Furina.

Jean watched her carefully before stepping forward.

She pulled out a chair and sat down beside Furina.

"You alright?"

Furina let out a breath, nodding slightly.

"Y-Yeah…" she muttered. "Body is… aching a little."

Jean studied her carefully before giving a small nod.

"It's alright… You did good."

Furina chuckled, wincing slightly as she straightened herself.

"S-Sounds like it…"

She let out a sharp breath, recalling the chase.

"Pulling 10 G's from a stable altitude… to a vertical climb… at Mach 1.2…"

She smirked tiredly, shaking her head.

"I sure as hell did."

Jean chuckled.

"Like a true ace, Furina."

Furina grinned.

"Hell yes."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence.

The war wasn't over.

Not yet.

But for now…

Furina closed her eyes, breathing in the quiet.

Because soon—

The countdown to Morepesok would begin.