Wings of the Stars

It was another day at Charybdis Air Force Base—a massive stronghold of military aviation, where the hum of jet engines never ceased and the scent of fuel and metal lingered in the air. The base was swarming with soldiers, engineers, and aircrew, each moving with purpose. Among them were the elite pilots of the Fontaine Air Force 405th Squadron—known by their callsigns: Tidal Squadron and Nocturne Squadron.

And today, a new legend walked among them.

Furina De Fontaine.

The hotshot rookie everyone was talking about.

It had been only a few months since she had graduated top of her class at the Fontaine Royal Air Force Academy, yet her reputation had already skyrocketed. Now, she was stationed at Charybdis and had been entrusted with her own fighter—a Dassault Rafale M, registration 1013-FF. The irony of the number matching her birthday wasn't lost on her.

As a reward for her achievements, Furina had been granted a custom paint scheme of her own design—a breathtaking livery of deep blue, sky blue, white, and black, flowing seamlessly along the sleek airframe. A golden emblem on the tail stood out: a crown over flowing water, a symbol of elegance and power. Élégante et Efficace was written in bold script beneath the canopy, on both sides—a quiet reminder of her philosophy.

She walked with purpose down the long, dimly lit hallway, accompanied by a senior officer. The overhead lights buzzed softly, casting their faint glow over the polished floors.

The officer, a man in his late forties with years of combat experience, stole a glance at her and smirked.

"I'm going to be honest, Lieutenant Furina. It's actually an honor to meet you."

Furina raised an eyebrow, glancing at him sideways. "Seriously?"

The officer nodded without hesitation. "That's right. We've seen footage of your training exercises. The way you flew your Rafale... that's something even our veteran pilots struggle to replicate."

Furina let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "I was just doing what I was trained to do. Nothing much, really."

The officer grinned, holding both fists up near his chest as if reliving a thrilling moment. "No, I mean it! How many G's did you pull? What's the highest you've handled?"

Furina sighed, as if this wasn't the first time someone had asked. "Around 12 G's."

The officer's eyes widened in shock. "Twelve!?"

She nodded. "That's right. It was so much that the aircraft I flew was deemed unairworthy afterward. But that's just how it is in training—you push yourself and the aircraft to its absolute limits."

The officer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Damn... That's the harsh reality of this business, huh?"

Furina simply nodded as they reached the entrance to the briefing room.

The officer placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Good luck, Lieutenant Furina."

She smirked, giving him a confident nod. "Will do, sir."

With that, the officer turned and walked away while Furina pushed open the doors.

The Briefing Room

The moment she stepped inside, the energy in the room shifted. Dozens of fighter pilots—some from Tidal Squadron, others from Nocturne Squadron—were already gathered. The sound of conversation filled the air, but all eyes snapped to Furina as she walked in.

"There's our hotshot rookie from the Academy!" someone called out.

Furina sighed under her breath. "Here we go."

The pilots welcomed her with open arms, forming a loose circle around her. The first to approach was Lyney, the lead flight of Tidal Squadron. He had a charismatic smile and an easygoing demeanor, his uniform crisp and perfectly pressed.

"Welcome aboard, Furina. Glad to have you on the team," he said, extending a hand.

Furina nodded and shook it. "Glad to be a part, sir."

Lyney chuckled. "No need for 'sir.' My TAC name is 'Magician,' but you can call me whatever you like."

Furina smirked. "Magician, huh? I'll keep that in mind."

Lyney then gestured toward another pilot. "This is my sister, Lynette—callsign 'Ritesword.' She leads Nocturne Squadron."

Lynette, standing with arms crossed, gave a polite nod. "Welcome to Charybdis, Furina."

Minutes passed as Furina was introduced to the rest of the team, getting a feel for the squadron's dynamics. Then, right on cue, the commanding officer arrived, stepping onto the small stage at the front of the room.

"Alright, is everyone here? Good. Settle down—let's get this briefing started."

The pilots took their seats, their attention shifting to the massive display at the front of the room, showing a map of Teyvat.

The officer's gaze swept over them. "First and foremost, I'd like to give Furina a warm Charybdis welcome. We've reviewed your training, and we're glad to have you here."

Furina gave a respectful nod. "I'm honored, sir."

The officer nodded back before turning to the display, which now zoomed in on Fontaine and the surrounding Charybdis region.

"A few hours ago, our radar site detected a group of unidentified aircraft approaching our airspace."

The display changed, now showing two blurry images—a Tupolev Tu-95 and a Tu-22M.

"Thirty minutes ago, all communication with the radar site went dark. We're assuming it was attacked. This leads us to one conclusion…" The officer's voice hardened. "The Snezhnayan Ceasefire Agreement has been broken for the first time in almost forty years."

A heavy silence filled the room.

"As of today, Charybdis Air Force Base and the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force are on high alert. Your mission is simple: Find these aircraft. Pile them up. Force them to land. If they refuse or retaliate—shoot them down."

Before the weight of his words could settle, a thunderous bang shook the entire room.

"What the hell was that!?" one of the pilots shouted.

Another sprinted to a nearby window, his eyes widening in horror. "Smoke's rising from the carrier! We're under attack!"

The door slammed open, and an officer rushed inside, breathless. "Everyone! Unidentified aircraft overhead—one of them is flying the Snezhnayan flag!"

The commander gritted his teeth, his expression twisting into fury. He pointed at the pilots.

"Everyone, SCRAMBLE! Get to your planes! Shoot down every last one of them!"

Without hesitation, the pilots leaped from their seats and bolted out of the briefing room.

The moment they stepped outside, they were met with chaos—columns of black smoke billowing into the sky, fighter jets roaring down the runway, soldiers scrambling to assist the wounded. The deafening sound of explosions echoed across the base, as enemy bombs rained down from above.

Furina clenched her fists, her heart pounding.

This was no longer a training exercise.

This was war.

Furina sprinted across the tarmac, dodging debris and scattered personnel as explosions rattled the airfield. Smoke billowed from the burning wreckage of aircraft and infrastructure, the acrid scent of burning fuel filling her lungs. The ground trembled beneath her boots as more bombs detonated in the distance. This was war.

Ahead, nestled inside the final hangar, her Rafale M awaited.

The sleek aircraft, adorned in her custom deep blue, sky blue, white, and black livery, stood like a silent predator, its golden emblem of a crown over flowing water gleaming faintly under the dim hangar lights. Élégante et Efficace was painted beside the canopy—a reminder of both her style and skill.

Furina wasted no time.

She climbed the ladder with practiced speed, swinging herself into the cockpit and settling into the ejection seat. Quickly fastening her harness. With a sharp inhale, she snapped on her helmet and oxygen mask, the HUD flickering to life as the canopy began to close.

With her left hand, she reached for the Main Electricity Switch, flipping the knob from Standby to Right. The right engine whined to life, turbines spooling as the RPM climbed. At 25% N2, she reached for the Fuel Cutoff lever and flicked it to Idle. The engine roared awake, stabilizing with a deep, throaty hum.

"One down," she muttered.

She then switched the knob to Left, repeating the process. The second M88 turbofan came to life in unison, the aircraft now fully awakened.

The canopy locked shut, sealing her inside. No turning back now.

Furina disengaged the parking brake, pushed the throttle slightly forward, and taxied out of the hangar, making a left toward the runway. The base was in total chaos. Jets were already screaming into the sky, their afterburners igniting against the smoke-filled horizon. She was the second-to-last aircraft to leave, with a Boeing F/A-18 rolling out behind her, its engines rumbling.

The control tower came through her radio.

"Waltz, your callsign is Tidal Two. Verify and readback."

Furina clicked her mic. "Tidal Two, checking in."

She reached Runway 30, slowing her taxi speed as the final checks flickered across her HUD.

Right on cue, the control tower gave the order.

"Tidal Two, cleared for takeoff."

Furina smirked, tightening her grip on the throttle. "Righto. Let's get this over with."

With a sharp motion, she slammed the throttle to max. The Rafale M surged forward, its twin M88-2 engines roaring as afterburners kicked in, sending a fiery blast behind her. The cockpit trembled with raw acceleration, pressing her into the seat as she tore down the runway.

Within moments, she pulled back on the stick, feeling the aircraft lift off from the tarmac. The landing gear retracted, and the IFF system updated, identifying all friendly and hostile aircraft in the vicinity.

The control tower radioed once more.

"Tidal Two, altitude restriction lifted. May the wind guide you safely."

Furina banked slightly left, climbing into the chaotic sky above Charybdis.

The radio chatter filled her headset, each voice carrying the weight of the destruction unfolding below.

"The aircraft carrier is on fire... and listing hard!" Calcagni, Nocturne Two, reported.

"Most of the harbor's gone."

Lynette's voice—calm but filled with quiet fury—cut through the frequency. "Time to stop this bullshit. We can't afford any more casualties."

She then made the call.

"All squadrons, let's take out these bastards. It's go time."

The squadron leaders checked in.

"Nocturne Four, understood."

"Nocturne Two, roger."

"Tidal One, affirm."

"Tidal Two, confirmed," Furina responded.

She glanced at her HUD, spotting the first enemy aircraft—12,000 meters ahead.

Lynette's voice returned. "Waltz, form up with Tidal One."

Before Furina could answer, another voice entered the channel—one that sent a chill through her.

"This is AWACS Zaytun. Take all enemy aircraft down. They've hit us hard. Stay sharp for any escort fighters protecting the bombers."

Lynette radioed back. "Wilco."

Just as Lyney radioed Furina, she blazed past him at high speed.

"Furina! You're supposed to form up on me!"

Furina narrowed her eyes. "Now's not the time! We need to take out those bombers before they cause any more damage!"

Lynette clicked her mic. "She's right, brother. But form up with Waltz—don't lose her!"

Lyney sighed, then responded. "Wilco."

He pushed the throttle forward, his F-35 Lightning II accelerating to keep up with Furina's modified Rafale M, but she was already closing in on the first target—a Tupolev Tu-95 bomber.

Furina flicked to Special Weapon 1—her Long-Range Air-to-Air Missiles (LRAAMs). The HUD beeped, confirming a lock-on.

She fired two missiles.

"Fox Three!"

The missiles streaked forward, cutting through the sky like spears of death. They found their mark, slamming into the Tu-95's tail section. A fiery explosion erupted as metal shredded apart, sending the bomber into a death spiral before it plunged into the ocean below.

AWACS Zaytun confirmed. "Splash one, Waltz! Good work!"

Another call came through.

"We've got two more bombers and an escort. Bearing 310."

Furina didn't hesitate. "Wilco."

She yanked the stick into a tight 90-degree bank, adjusting her course. The next bombers were in her sights, but this time, a MiG-25 Foxbat was with them.

She locked onto another Tu-95 and launched two more missiles.

"Fox Three!"

The missiles detonated under the bomber's belly, splitting the aircraft into four massive pieces. No survivors.

But now, the MiG-25 was on her tail.

The enemy fighter stuck close, failing to get a missile lock, but refusing to let her go.

Furina gritted her teeth.

"Alright, asshole. Let's see if you can handle this."

She slammed the throttle to idle, then violently yanked the stick backward and forward, sending the Rafale into an instantaneous 90-degree pitch-up maneuver—a Pugachev Cobra.

The MiG-25 overshot her instantly.

Furina pushed the stick down, aligning herself behind the enemy jet. The lock tone blared in her headset.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder missile screamed forward, catching the MiG-25 dead center. The pilot ejected just in time, moments before the fighter erupted into flames.

"Another splash for Tidal Two!" AWACS called out.

But it wasn't over yet. More bombers and escorts were inbound.

Furina grinned. "Copy. Moving in."

She blasted forward, tearing through the sky, ignoring Lyney's calls to slow down.

She wasn't here to play safe.

She was here to win.

Furina slowed down just enough to form a short element with Lyney, the two fighters now flying in perfect formation. The chaos of the skies had settled into a brief, tense calm, but Furina could feel the air humming with anticipation. The Teyvat United Peacekeeping Headquarters radioed in, piercing the silence.

"This is HQ to both Tidal and Nocturn Squadrons. Confirm if there are any drones in the vicinity? Over."

Lynette raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between the horizon and the instruments in her cockpit, her voice cutting through the air with a hint of sarcasm.

"Drones? We don't see any fucking drones!" she snapped, her voice steady but edged with frustration.

Before the words even finished leaving her mouth, the AWACS Zaytun chimed in, its voice calm and authoritative. "Three bombers and four escorts, bearing one-three-five!"

Furina's lips curled into a smirk, her fingers already itching for action. "Copy!" she replied, the adrenaline surging as she felt the familiar weight of her Rafale M under her control.

With a fierce determination, Furina slammed the throttles to max. The afterburners roared to life with a violent surge of power, propelling the jet forward as she broke the formation, leaving Lyney behind.

"Tidal One! Do not lose her! Bring her home in one piece!" Lynette's voice crackled through the radio, a bit of a scowl in her tone, but there was care in her words. Furina grinned, her hands steady on the controls as she pushed the aircraft to its limits.

Lyney's voice followed, heavy with the weight of the mission. "Roger."

The sound of his F-35's engines roared louder as he, too, pushed his jet to the maximum, but Furina was already pulling away, the Rafale eating up the distance.

AWACS Zaytun came back in with another update. "Nocturne Four, splash one." A moment passed. "Nocturne Three, splash one."

Zaytun's voice now turned to Furina. "That's the last set, Waltz."

Furina's eyes narrowed, her focus absolute. "Wilco."

Locked on target.

Furina's HUD flashed red as the first Tu-95 bomber loomed ahead. The range closed quickly, but she was already prepared. Her fingers moved deftly, reaching for the controls as she gained a solid lock. Without hesitation, she launched her missiles.

"Fox Three!" she called out sharply.

Two long-range air-to-air missiles streaked away from the Rafale, cutting through the sky with precision. The first missile slammed into the Tu-95's front end, tearing through its fuselage with a deafening explosion. The cockpit disintegrated, and the bomber came apart in mid-air, falling in pieces to the ocean below.

She didn't wait a second before she was already shifting to her next target. The second bomber was ahead, and without flinching, Furina adjusted her aim. She launched two more missiles.

"Fox Three!" she called out again.

The missiles tore through the air, hitting the Tu-95 in its center. The bomber exploded violently, its wings shearing off as the fuselage split in half, a massive fireball scattering debris over the ocean. There were no survivors.

Four fighters now broke formation, heading straight for Furina.

Her mind was a blur of calculated movements. She didn't hesitate. She banked sharply 90 degrees, breaking off and pulling the throttles back to idle. The Rafale's turn intensified, the aircraft responding instantly to her command, as she whipped through the air, the gun crosshairs locking onto the two fighters pursuing her.

Without a second thought, she pulled the trigger.

The gunfire tore through the rear two fighters, hitting their engines, fuselages, and cockpits. The two jets spiraled out of control, falling from the sky and crashing into the ocean below with thunderous force.

Furina's heart pounded, but her focus never wavered. The battlefield was shifting, and she was right in the thick of it.

Now, she was behind the remaining two fighters—the MiG-25 and an SU-30. The MiG broke off to the left, but Furina locked her eyes on the SU-30. The chase was on.

The SU-30 tried to shake her off, but Furina's Rafale was too quick, too agile. It was unstoppable. The SU-30 pulled the Pugachev maneuver, the jet flipping almost upside down, trying to outwit her, but Furina's instincts were too sharp.

With a blaze of brilliance, she slammed the throttles back to idle and pulled the sidestick hard. The Rafale mimicked the Pugachev, but with a twist—it went beyond the expected 90 degrees, flipping a full 180 degrees. The aircraft was momentarily flying backward, the world around her spinning in a dizzying blur, but Furina was in total control.

The SU-30 passed by, unable to keep up with the dramatic maneuver. Furina, locked onto the fighter, fired two Sidewinder missiles.

"Fox Two!" she exclaimed, her voice cold and steady as the missiles surged forward.

The missiles struck the SU-30, tearing it apart in a violent explosion as it plummeted to the ocean below.

With the SU-30 gone, Furina pulled the Rafale back into a 360-degree Pugachev maneuver, spiraling through the air with fluid grace, her mastery over the aircraft undeniable.

AWACS Zaytun's voice echoed in the comms. "Tidal One, splash one. Tidal Two, splash one. The skies are clear. We've got air superiority."

Lyney, watching from a distance, couldn't believe his eyes. The Dassault Rafale, a Fontanian-built aircraft, had just pulled off a 360-degree Pugachev maneuver—something that only Snezhnayan aircraft were believed capable of performing. His mind reeled.

How could a Fontanian jet do that? he thought in disbelief.

The Teyvat United Peacekeeping Headquarters radioed in once more. "We're in the clear. RTB."

The response was immediate.

"Tidal One. Wilco."

"Nocturne One. Wilco."

"Nocturne Two. Wilco."

"Nocturne Three. Roger."

"Nocturne Four. Affirmative."

Finally, Furina came through with a calm, confident reply. "Tidal Two. Returning to base."

Minutes later, the Nocturne Squadron and Tidal One touched down at Charybdis Air Force Base. The roar of their engines faded as the fighters slowly taxied to a stop. It was Furina's turn now.

Her heart still raced from the fight, but she knew it wasn't over. The real battle had just begun.

"Tidal Two. The runway's all yours. Cleared to land."

Furina nodded to herself, her fingers steady as she tapped the mic. "Cleared to land. Tidal Two."

The Rafale descended with graceful precision, its wings cutting through the air, the nose lowering as she aligned with the runway. As the wheels touched down, a final sigh of relief passed through Furina's body—there were no casualties between the squadrons. The mission was complete.

But Furina knew this wasn't just another day in the sky. She had risen above expectations, and today, she had proven herself. The sky had been hers, and it had been a battlefield of her making.

Hours Later... The De-briefing at Charybdis Air Force Base. The room was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation as the pilots gathered for the de-briefing. Tidal Squadron, Nocturne Squadron, and their respective personnel settled into their seats, the weight of the day's events still hanging heavy in the air. The room, usually filled with conversations and light banter, was now quiet and solemn. Everyone was aware that what had transpired was far from over.

The Base Commander entered, his face a mixture of exhaustion and resolve. He made his way to the front and took his place, eyes scanning the room, assessing the faces of the squadron members who had just returned from one of the most intense combat sorties in recent memory.

As the commander settled in, the display flickered to life. A timeline of the defense unfolded on the screen, showing the movements of both squadrons in blue and green—the blue arrows marking the path of Tidal Squadron, and the green arrows representing Nocturne Squadron. The red arrows, representing the enemy forces, sliced through the screen, showing how the battle had unfolded.

"We're currently assessing the damage to the base and the surrounding area," the Base Commander began, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. "So far, the port has been hit the hardest. We've also confirmed that the aircraft carrier, Harmost, has been sunk."

He paused, his gaze fixed on the screen. "We've confirmed the attacking bogeys were from Snezhnaya. Likewise, the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force bases around Teyvat, including the surrounding areas of Snezhnaya, have been attacked as well. Many wars with opening blows fail to recover... But with both squadrons retaliating successfully, everyone here might have just changed the tides of the outcome."

The video ended, the timeline fading to black. The room remained still, the silence pressing in on them all.

The commander gave a slow, steady nod. "Everyone's dismissed."

As the briefing room emptied out, some pilots headed straight for their rooms, others made their way to the cafeteria for a much-needed break. But Lyney, Lynette, and Furina lingered, their faces reflecting a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment.

Lynette was the first to approach Furina, her footsteps light but purposeful. She smiled, a look of pride in her eyes as she placed a hand on Furina's shoulder.

"Nicely done, Furina," she said, her voice warm but full of admiration. "That's eleven confirmed kills. Officially, you're an ace at your first sortie."

Furina chuckled, brushing it off with a shrug. "Didn't even bother to count. But that sounds awesome!" She smiled back at Lynette, the thrill of the fight still fresh in her memory.

Lyney, standing nearby, let out a small, almost incredulous laugh. "You know, Furina," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know how you handle that Rafale of yours. But the way you handled it in the skies today? That was something else." He ran a hand through his hair, still processing the incredible maneuvers he had witnessed. "How you managed to pull off those Pugachev's maneuvers, beats me. Even some of the other fighter pilots or Rafales can't do that."

Furina turned to the window, her eyes momentarily drifting to the horizon beyond the base. "I'm being honest here," she replied, her tone casual but thoughtful. "Neither do I. I was assigned to this aircraft. I was told to stick to it. It has my livery, so it's a one-off."

Lyney nodded in understanding, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Fair point. You don't know who modified it... so it's anyone's guess, really."

Lynette, always the practical one, glanced between the two, her stomach rumbling loudly in the quiet room. "Well, come on, let's grab some food," she said with a grin, pushing them forward. "After all that dogfighting and defending, I'm starving."

Furina chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, let's go."

The trio made their way out of the briefing room and toward the cafeteria, the weight of the day's events hanging in the air but overshadowed by the small relief of victory. For a moment, it felt like things might return to normal. They laughed and joked, the camaraderie of the squadron evident as they shared light conversation on their way to the mess hall.

But even as they walked, there was an unspoken understanding that this wasn't the end of their fight. This was just the beginning.

But this is the beginning of something much bigger

Furina couldn't help but glance back at the hangar as they walked toward the cafeteria. The Rafale M was parked there, its tail glinting under the dim lights, reminding her of the intensity of the mission.

Her mind drifted back to the skies—the adrenaline, the chaos, the dogfights, and the split-second decisions. She had made it through, but it had come at a price.

This wasn't over.

What they had just experienced—what they had just fought—was only the beginning. A war had just begun.

And Furina, along with the rest of Tidal and Nocturne Squadrons, was ready for whatever came next.

As they entered the cafeteria, the air was thick with the same mix of exhaustion and determination. They were fighters, and this was only the start of something much bigger.