Wings of the Stars

Two Days Later…

The skies stretched wide and unbroken above Iron Gale Air Force Base, a crisp, cloudless expanse of blue. The sun hung high, its rays glinting off the rows of parked fighters on the tarmac, the heat causing faint mirages to ripple above the concrete. Engines rumbled in the distance, pilots and ground crews moving like clockwork, yet inside the mess hall, the world seemed slower—quieter.

The morning routine had settled in. Plates scraped against the tables, murmurs and laughter filled the room, the aroma of coffee, eggs, and toast mixing with the ever-present scent of aviation fuel that clung to their flight suits. Both Primordial Squadron and Waltz Squadron had just finished their breakfast, enjoying what little downtime they had before the inevitable call to action.

Across the table, Wriothesley leaned back, arms crossed, his sharp gaze landing on Furina, who was tilting back a cold bottle of beer, condensation rolling down the glass.

"How are you feeling, Furina?" he asked, his voice casual but carrying that slight undercurrent of concern.

Furina set the bottle down with a soft clink, exhaling as she wiped her fingers on the leg of her flight suit.

"Better," she admitted, rolling her shoulder slightly. "Had the nurse check me out yesterday morning. Just a sore body, that's all."

Clorinde smirked, the ghost of amusement flickering in her sharp, observant eyes. "So, you're ready to take in more G's?"

Furina chuckled, stretching her arms above her head before letting them drop. "Ready as I'll ever be!"

At the far end of the table, Ei let out a soft chuckle. "That's what we like to hear, Captain Furina."

Furina turned to her, shaking her head with a grin. "Ei! No need to be so formal! Just Furina will do."

The group shared a round of laughter, the tension from previous days briefly forgotten in the easy camaraderie.

Then—the mess hall doors swung open.

The casual atmosphere evaporated in an instant as Jean stepped in, standing tall at the entrance, her expression firm and businesslike.

"Everyone to the briefing room," she called, her voice carrying across the hall. "We've got a new operation today."

A moment of silence fell over the squadrons as they exchanged glances. Conversations died down. Forks were set aside. There was no need to question it—when the call came, they answered.

Furina sighed, pushing her chair back before standing, grabbing her watch cap from the table and securing it onto her head. She shot Jean a half-smirk, a playful glint in her tired but determined eyes.

"Alright, Jean," she said, cracking her neck. "Come on, fellas. Let's go. Wouldn't want to tense up Captain Dandelion, now would we?"

Jean rolled her eyes, but there was the barest hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips.

The others chuckled as they stood, pushing aside their trays and making their way out of the mess hall, their boots echoing against the tile floor as they strode toward the briefing room.

Their downtime was over.

The war was calling again.

The sharp scent of jet fuel still lingered in the air as both Waltz Squadron and Primordial Squadron filed into the briefing room, the hum of conversation trailing behind them. The tension in the room was subtle, yet undeniable.

At the front of the room, a man stood tall on the stage, hands clasped firmly behind his back, his expression unreadable. He was clad in a Brigadier General's formal uniform, the insignia gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

Furina's sharp blue eyes immediately narrowed. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way.

"Who the hell is he?" she muttered under her breath, glancing at Jean beside her.

Jean shook her head, crossing her arms. "No idea. He just showed up and pulled rank, demanding a briefing with both squadrons."

Uneasy murmurs rippled through the assembled pilots as they exchanged wary glances before taking their seats. Furina slumped into hers, arms crossed, her brows furrowed as she studied the Brigadier General with a scrutinizing gaze. Jean took a seat beside her, maintaining a professional demeanor, but there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes.

Then, the display screen behind the Brigadier General flickered to life, connecting to a video call with an unknown party.

The man stepped forward, his voice commanding and precise.

"Alright. Let's begin."

His sharp gaze swept across the room as he continued.

"I am Brigadier General Buzuleac. I am in charge of the operation you all will be deployed in."

Furina's fingers drummed impatiently against her arm. Great, another desk jockey giving orders.

Brigadier General Buzuleac pressed a button on the remote, and a satellite image of a colossal submarine appeared on the screen.

"I trust you are all aware of the Razu-Class Submarine—the 'Razushitzel.'"

The room went silent.

The display zoomed in, showing the massive, black-hulled war machine docked at a harbor in Bespokoynaya Bay.

"The Razushitzel is currently undergoing final preparations at Bespokoynaya Harbor," Buzuleac continued, his voice firm. "Previously, the port was surrounded by oil refineries and fuel depots, but they were destroyed in a previous air operation. However, the Snezhnayan forces have since managed to rebuild key facilities and convert the area into a strategic supply base for the Razushitzel's operations."

He paused. "For further details, I'll turn this over to Kaveh, a Teyvat Intelligence Agency analyst."

A moment later, a new voice filled the room.

"Thank you, Brigadier General."

The screen switched to a 3D model of the submarine, rendered in high detail, rotating as Kaveh spoke.

"The Razushitzel is an absolute behemoth. It measures in at a staggering 495 meters long, with a 116-meter beam, and when fully submerged, it displaces approximately 810,000 tonnes. To put it bluntly, this thing is a floating fortress."

The tension in the room thickened as the scale of the submarine sank in.

Eula's icy gaze sharpened. "That thing is fucking enormous. Who the hell commands something like that?"

Kaveh didn't miss a beat.

"We'll get to that in a moment. But first, let's talk capabilities."

The display shifted again, showing armament specifications.

"The Razushitzel is not just a submarine—it also functions as an aircraft carrier when surfaced. It possesses an unmatched hybrid warfare capability that allows it to engage enemies from below the surface, above the sea, and even long-range targets inland."

A diagram highlighted two enormous railguns mounted atop the vessel.

"These are its two primary railguns, capable of striking targets over 400 kilometers away with devastating precision."

Collei scoffed, shaking her head. "A fucking monster…"

Kaveh nodded grimly. "That's an understatement. This submarine's offensive capabilities are equivalent to a full carrier strike group. If it's deployed properly, it can single-handedly change the course of the war."

Jean tensed beside Furina, clearly not liking where this was going.

Kaveh continued. "The Razushitzel has a dark history. Five years ago, it was launched for sea trials… and then it vanished. No distress signals, no wreckage—just gone."

A murmur of unease spread through the pilots.

Kaveh's voice lowered. "Then, just before the war began, it was found adrift. Of the 358 crew members, only 330 survived. But the real kicker? The captain—Marcel Vacher."

Furina's breath hitched.

She knew that name. Everyone in Fontaine's navy did.

"Wait." Furina leaned forward. "You're telling me that Marcel fucking Vacher is commanding the Razushitzel?"

Kaveh confirmed it with a nod.

"Yes. The same Marcel Vacher. He was a disgraced Fontaine Navy officer, dishonorably discharged for espionage many years ago. He managed to escape captivity and defected to Snezhnaya, where he's now a highly decorated vessel captain."

Clorinde exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "So this is their response to us taking down Sepharis Bird, Karatel, and their IRBM sites."

"Correct," Kaveh confirmed. "The loss of the Karatel, coupled with the destruction of their ballistic missile silos, has forced the Snezhnayan Navy to fast-track the Razushitzel's deployment."

Furina exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. "Okay, so why don't we just blow the fucker up and be done with it?"

Buzuleac's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"We capture it. Do not make me repeat myself, Captain."

Furina rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "You sound just like Commander Jakob and AWACS Justice… Tch."

Kaveh interjected. "Because… we have credible intelligence suggesting that the Razushitzel is carrying weapons of mass destruction."

The room fell silent.

The Brigadier General took over once more.

"If these reports are accurate, then this submarine is the single greatest bargaining chip we could possibly have. If we secure it intact, it could force negotiations for a ceasefire."

His expression darkened.

"The Teyvat Navy has mobilized a joint task force from Fontaine, Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, and Natlan. The landing force will secure the submarine, while you will provide air superiority and cover for the fleet."

Jean's lips pressed into a thin line. "And if they realize they're losing?"

The Brigadier General's voice turned cold.

"Then they'll scuttle the submarine before we can get to it."

Ningguang's piercing gaze flickered toward the Brigadier General, arms folded neatly across her chest. She was no stranger to military politics, but something about this situation was off.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous to bring the fleet in before we've captured air superiority?" she questioned coolly.

The Brigadier General barely spared her a glance, his tone dismissive.

"That is none of your concern, Tianquan."

The room fell into a tense silence.

Eula slowly rose from her seat, her icy blue gaze locked onto the Brigadier General.

"So you're putting our lives at risk for political games?"

Her voice carried a frigid edge, and even the younger pilots could feel the temperature drop.

Furina stood next, her anger seething beneath her skin. Her fists clenched at her sides as she glared daggers at the Brigadier General.

"You know…" She exhaled sharply, her voice laced with contempt. "If this were the fucking Spare Squadron, I'd take this mission without question. But no—we were assigned here to prepare for the Capital Offensive. And now you barge in here like some big-shot asshole, not even bothering to inform Jean of your arrival, and shove us into a goddamn suicide mission—to capture a submarine—for your own political bullshit."**

Her glare burned into him, voice rising as she took a step forward.

"If you think I'm just going to roll over and take this, then you're a goddamn nutjob."

The Brigadier General's expression darkened. His jaw tightened as he pointed directly at her.

"Sit your ass down, Waltz. Did they not teach you how to speak to your superiors at boot camp or at the Air Force Academy?"

Furina's teeth grit together.

She didn't back down.

Instead, she marched forward, stopping just inches from the Brigadier General, her blue eyes blazing.

"Make me, you nutcase."

Gasps rippled through the room. The air was thick with tension, like a live wire ready to snap.

Jean, sensing disaster, quickly grabbed Furina's left arm.

"Furina, not now!" she hissed.

Furina ripped her arm away, clicking her tongue in irritation. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough for only the General to hear.

"You smell fishy… Brigadier General."

Then, with a sharp turn, she stalked back to her seat, dropping into it with a huff, one leg crossing over the other, arms folded tightly against her chest.

She was done listening to this bullshit.

But then—the bombshell dropped.

The Brigadier General's next words sent a shockwave through the room.

"Only Waltz Squadron will sortie."

The entire room froze.

Jean's eyes widened before she shot up from her chair.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold the fuck on. You're sending out only Waltz Squadron?!"

Her voice rose in disbelief.

"With five goddamn pilots?! Are you out of your goddamned mind?!"**

The Brigadier General remained unfazed, arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not saying it again, Captain. Only. The. Waltz. Squadron."

The room felt like it was about to explode.

Furina's patience snapped.

"You fucking asshole!" she roared, lunging forward.

Jean barely managed to throw herself between them, shoving Furina back before she could deck the Brigadier General right then and there.

"Furina! Settle down!" Jean gritted her teeth, straining to hold her back.

Furina staggered, shoving herself aside before pointing an accusing finger at the Brigadier General.

"You'll regret this. This better be worth our fucking time."

She didn't wait for a response.

Furina grabbed her helmet, spun on her heel, and stormed out of the briefing room.

The rest of Waltz Squadron exchanged glances before quickly grabbing their helmets and following their furious Captain toward the hangar.

Jean let out a long exhale, turning her sharp gaze back to the Brigadier General.

"I'm sortieing. And I'm bringing Primordial Two, Five, and Three with me."

Buzuleac opened his mouth, but Jean cut him off.

"I'm not debating this. You're already sending a five-man squadron to do a fucking fleet-level operation. We're coming."

She then turned to Ningguang, her expression dead serious.

"Ningguang, you're base commander while I'm away. Keep a close eye on our new friend here."

Ningguang's golden eyes flickered with amusement, her hand resting on her gun holster.

"Will do, Captain."

Mavuika, Amber, and Ei silently grabbed their helmets before heading out toward the apron.

The air was thick with unspoken words, but the die had been cast.

And Waltz Squadron was already on their way to hell.

Furina's boots pounded against the pavement as she stormed toward her Rafale, but before she could reach it, Jean's voice cut through the tension.

"Furina, what the hell happened back there!?"

Furina scoffed, not even turning to face her.

"Sending us out on a mission like this? This isn't the fucking Spare Squadron, Captain! I used to be a part of it!"

She whipped around, blue eyes blazing.

"The missions they gave were life or death! And death was always the highest goddamn chance!"

Jean sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"I get it. I really do. But we're forced to do this. Just… don't do it for him."

Her voice softened just slightly.

"Do it for me."

Furina's expression twisted, lips pressing into a thin line. She turned away, exhaling through her nose.

"…Fine. For you."

Her hands clenched into fists.

"But not for that dipshit."

With that, she stomped the rest of the way to her hangar, where her Dassault Rafale awaited.

The other pilots were already rushing to their respective hangars, helmets in hand.

Furina climbed the integrated ladder of her Rafale, settling into her ejector seat. She strapped in, slipping on her helmet and oxygen mask before flipping the canopy switch. With a loud hiss, the canopy sealed shut.

Her fingers glided over the controls as she inserted the flight plan and began her startup sequence.

One by one, the engines roared to life.

Jean's voice crackled over the radio.

"Alright. Just to be on the safe side, we're all flying as Waltz Squadron today. I'll take command as Waltz Two. Everyone else will move down by one."

Furina tapped her helmet, switching to squadron frequency.

"Wilco."

The rest of the squadron responded in turn.

Waltz Squadron – Mission Roster

Waltz One – Furina de Fontaine

Waltz Two – Jean Gunnhildr

Waltz Three – Clorinde

Waltz Four – Wriothesley

Waltz Five – Eula Lawrence

Waltz Six – Collei

Waltz Seven – Amber

Waltz Eight – Ei

Waltz Nine – Mavuika

With preparations complete, the squadron taxied onto the runway in formation.

One by one, they lined up on the centerline, engines howling.

Furina's grip tightened on the throttle.

This mission was fucked.

But they were going anyway.

"Waltz One, rolling."

She shoved the throttle forward.

Her Rafale screamed down the runway, afterburners igniting, and with a sharp pull, she lifted into the sky.

One by one, the rest of Waltz Squadron followed—departing at 30-second intervals.

Into the skies unknown.

25 minutes in.

The Waltz Squadron pierced through the skies, maintaining a tight dual V-formation as they descended toward Bespokoynaya Bay. Below, the ocean stretched out like a dark mirror, reflecting the scattered formations of allied naval vessels.

Furina's grip on the stick tightened. Ahead, a massive formation of enemy aircraft—more than 50 strong—was bearing down on them.

Then, AWACS Visionaire's voice crackled over the radio.

"Supporting squadrons will be arriving 5 minutes late."

Jean snapped onto the comms.

"We must retreat and wait for them!"

But then, the Brigadier General's voice cut in.

"No way. Gain air superiority at once."

Furina scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Tch. Nutjob."

She slammed the throttle to full, afterburners igniting.

"Waltz Squadron! Let's get that air superiority!"

Dogfight Begins

Ahead, the enemy squadron closed in.

Enemy radio chatter crackled.

"Heh. Just nine planes!? I thought this would be hard!"

Furina smirked.

She switched to COM-3, the enemy frequency, and spoke slowly, voice dripping with amusement.

"Très bien, connards. Voyons de quoi vous êtes faits, ces imbéciles."

Then, she switched back to COM-1.

The enemy frequency erupted in confusion.

"What did she just say?"

"I don't know, but it sounded eerie as hell!"

Clorinde's voice came through.

"Uh-oh…"

Jean frowned.

"What do you mean, uh-oh?"

Clorinde sighed.

"If Furina speaks slowly… especially in French… it's best you surrender. Or retreat."

Furina locked onto the first targets—a formation of F/A-18s.

Tone.

"Fox Three."

Three HCAA missiles streaked from under her wings. One after another.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Three explosions lit up the sky.

Furina burst through the smoke, banking hard into the chaos.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"Splash three, Waltz One."

Just then, an F-22 Raptor blazed overhead.

Furina's eyes narrowed.

She yanked the sidestick back, climbing rapidly before inverting her Rafale and cutting to the right.

Now she was on its tail.

The F-22 jinked left, then right, desperately trying to shake her off.

Furina matched its every move.

Tone. Lock.

"Fox Two."

A Sidewinder ripped through the air.

Direct hit.

"F-22 down, Waltz! That was the 'shootdown incident' of 2009 all over again—but with real weapons!"

Then—

Eula's voice.

"We've got company—both above and below!"

Amber chimed in.

"Then keep fighting! We've got enough to shoot all of them down before it's too late!"

Furina's radar flashed red—

Lock-on detected.

Another F-22.

She gritted her teeth.

Then executed.

She pulled hard on the stick—

And yanked it left.

Right rudder pedal—slammed.

The Rafale pitched up and yawed into a 360-degree turn—

A perfect Pugachev Cobra.

The F-22 overshot from below.

Furina dropped back onto its six.

Tone. Lock.

"Fox Two."

Another Sidewinder left the rails.

Direct hit.

The skies were now pure chaos. Fighters darting, missiles streaking, explosions everywhere.

The enemy formation crumbled.

By the five-minute mark, Furina had already racked up sixteen confirmed kills.

The others? Four to six a piece.

Ei breathed into the comms.

"Man. Air combat is much trickier without the others."

Clorinde scoffed.

"You kidding me? Our gal Furina is a monster when it comes to this kind of stuff."

Collei chimed in.

"No kidding. She's already at sixteen confirmed kills."

Then—

BOOM.

Another explosion.

AWACS Visionaire's voice came in.

"Another splash for the ace!"

Collei laughed.

"Never mind. Make that seventeen."

As Furina chased down an F-35 Lightning, the enemy frequency crackled again.

"Drone this and drone that—it doesn't matter. If the pilot you're up against is the Golden Crown, you're done for."

Furina grinned.

Lock. Tone.

"Fox Two."

A Sidewinder screamed toward the F-35.

Direct hit.

AWACS confirmed.

"Another kill for Waltz!"

Meanwhile, in the backup squadron, the pilots watched from a safe distance.

"Watching Waltz go haywire makes me admire her even more."

"No kidding. So far, she's the deadliest ace in all of Teyvat."

"Even more than The Knave?"

"Definitely more than The Knave. She might be Snezhnaya's best—but Furina would shoot her down in a jiffy."

Then—AWACS Visionaire's urgent call.

"We've got Harriers inbound—targeting our allied ships! Take them out!"

Collei's voice cut in.

"Waltz One! Leave it to us!"

Furina nodded.

"Wilco."

Just then—

Lock-on warning.

Furina yanked the stick, slammed the throttles idle.

Her Rafale pitched up into a near-vertical 90-degree stall.

The enemy F-16 overshot.

Furina pushed the stick down.

The nose dropped.

Tone. Lock.

"Fox Two!"

Two Sidewinders.

Two direct hits.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"That's eighteen, Waltz!"

Then—

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

AWACS Visionaire's voice rang out.

"Harrier squadron down! Waltz Squadron, you've secured the fleet!"

Furina exhaled.

This battle was far from over.

The enemy comms erupted in pure panic.

"WE'RE LOSING TOO MANY FIGHTERS! WE MIGHT BE FORCED TO RETREAT!"

"HOW ARE NINE PILOTS TAKING US APART!? IT SHOULD BE US WINNING, NOT THEM!"

Then—

A new voice. No, two. A male and a female.

"Hey, Brother! Can I kill the pilot with the Golden Crown? I'm gonna kill you!"

"Sis, once we get close. But we have to attack her in unison."

Furina's eye twitched.

"What the hell are these people even saying? Siblings!?"

Then, AWACS Visionaire's voice cut through the radio.

"Two bogeys incoming! Bearing 270 degrees—west!"

The enemy radio crackled again.

"I've waited long enough, Ashen! I need to kill that Golden Crown—NOW!"

"Tch. Like an insane woman… Sure, Zimny."

"Shut up! I'd kill you if you weren't my brother!"

Furina glanced right, her sharp blue eyes widening.

"…Is that a fucking Su-47 Berkut!?"

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"All enemy interceptors have retreated! These are the last two in the sky."

Furina sighed.

"Let's get this over with."

She slammed the throttle, afterburners roaring as she engaged the two Su-47s.

Then, the rest of Waltz Squadron chimed in.

"Waltz Two, supporting Waltz One!"

"Waltz Three, supporting Waltz One!"

"Waltz Four, supporting Waltz One!"

One by one, every pilot checked in.

The enemy radio crackled again.

"Oh shit, looks like you caught their attention, Zimny."

"Shut it, Ashen!"

Then—Zimny's Su-47 broke formation, peeling away.

Furina grinned.

"You're mine."

She pushed the stick forward, giving chase.

Zimny's voice crackled through the comms.

"I'M GONNA SCREW YOU UP SO BAD, GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN CROWN!"

Furina tried to lock on—but something felt off.

Her IFF was showing multiple bogeys inside the same plane.

"What the hell—?"

Jean's voice cut in.

"They must have something in their avionics causing false readings! Aim for the center!"

Furina gritted her teeth.

"Wilco."

She lined up the shot.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Two!"

A Sidewinder fired—

But the Su-47 suddenly snapped into a near-vertical climb.

Furina mimicked the move instantly, pulling hard into the ascent.

Zimny cursed.

"Shit! She's on my ass!"

Furina smirked.

"Not so fast."

She locked on again.

Tone.

"Fox Two."

BOOM.

The missile impacted the Su-47.

But—Zimny was still flying.

Furina's eyes widened.

"How is that even possible!?"

Zimny's radio crackled with anger.

"SHIT, ASHEN! I'M HIT! THAT BASTARD HIT ME!"

Ashen's calm voice cut in.

"Then take her out."

Zimny growled.

"OH, I'LL KILL HER! I'LL KILL HER, ALRIGHT!!!"

Meanwhile, Jean was chasing Ashen's Su-47 in a vertical climb.

Her first two missiles missed—but Ashen had made a mistake.

At the peak of the climb, he stalled.

Jean's eyes locked onto her HUD.

"Got you."

Tone. Lock.

"Fox Three!"

An HCAA missile screamed toward Ashen.

Direct hit.

But the Su-47 was still flying.

Ashen's radio crackled.

"Shit! I'm hit too! We have to back out!"

Zimny snapped.

"WHY!?"

Ashen shouted.

"WE CAN'T FLY IN DAMAGED PLANES! RETREAT! NOW!"

Furina gained another lock.

But—

Zimny suddenly snapped into a dive, accelerating rapidly.

Furina followed instantly, yanking the nose down to match—but Zimny was already gone.

She cursed.

"Waltz One—I lost her!"

Jean's voice cut in.

"Waltz Two—I lost him!"

AWACS Visionaire's calm voice filled the channel.

"Doesn't matter. We got air superiority."

Silence.

Then—Furina sighed, leaning back into her seat.

"Tch. Next time, I'll finish them."

The enemy radio crackled to life.

"Captain, the fighters are ready for takeoff. They are prepared to sacrifice their lives to carry the cargo."

Then—another voice. Cold. Calculated.

"Beautiful…"

A crew member hesitantly asked:

"Captain Vacher?"

The captain's tone grew eerie.

"Don't you see? A million lives will be snuffed out in cruelty. How many shall we sacrifice to put all of them to rest?"

"Slow ahead the engines. Scuttle the sub. Now."

"Yes, Captain!"

Then—explosions.

"Shit!" The Allied Navy's radio erupted in panic.

"The Razushitzel just fired its main weapons! Most of the fleet is hit!"

"The landing ship is on fire! Abandon ship!"

Amid the chaos, the massive submarine began picking up speed, cutting through the ocean like a beast rising from the depths.

But then—on its deck.

Four aircraft.

Black and red.

Dassault Rafale M's.

Furina's heart pounded as she looked down.

"…Rafales? On a submarine?"

Then—

Two Rafales launched from the catapult, followed immediately by the other two.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed it.

"Four submarine-based aircraft just launched! Dassault Rafale M's!"

The Waltz Squadron's radio crackled in disbelief.

"What!?"

"Rafales!? Like Furina's!?"

"Oh, hell no…"

Then—more bad news.

"One of them is carrying a long range cruise missile!"

Furina's grip on the stick tightened. Her breath slowed.

She spoke softly—her voice like a blade against stone.

"Il ne peut y avoir qu'un seul Dassault Rafale Ace dans cette guerre."

(There can be only one Dassault Rafale Ace in this war.)

Then, she leaned forward, fire in her eyes.

"ET C'EST MOI!"

(AND IT'S ME!)

She slammed the throttles to full power, afterburners igniting like a wrathful goddess' fury.

Clorinde's voice wavered on the radio.

"Jesus Christ… I just got goosebumps… and fear."

Collei agreed, almost whispering.

"No kidding… Furina sounds scary when she's angry. Especially if she's speaking French."

The enemy Rafales tore through the sky, heading south.

They weren't attacking. They were running.

Running toward their target.

Furina gritted her teeth.

She gained visual on the two trailing Rafales, but—damn it, they were fast.

"Come on! Come on! Give me tone!"

Then—Lock.

Tone.

"Fox Three!"

A Long-Range Air-to-Air Missile (LRAAM) streaked toward its target.

Then—another missile.

Two explosions.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"Splash Two, Waltz! Two to go!"

But—Furina was still behind.

Her hands gripped the throttle tighter.

She needed more speed.

Then—Lock.

Tone.

"Fox Three!"

Another missile.

The enemy radio crackled with panic.

"CAPTA—"

BOOM.

Static.

All the while, the enemy captain was in the middle of his monologue.

"We seek not conflict, but rather a restoration of balance! A judgment! AND IT WILL ALL BE DONE WITH REASON!"

But Furina was done listening.

She locked onto the final Rafale.

It banked hard left—breaking away

Furina followed instantly.

Now—a duel.

The enemy Rafale skimmed the water, weaving through high-G left and right turns to shake Furina.

But she mimicked every move.

She was on it like a shadow.

And they kept getting lower.

Furina switched to guns.

She pressed the trigger.

A burst of 30mm rounds tore into the enemy's fuselage.

It jerked left—trying to escape.

Another burst.

More hits.

Then—

The left engine exploded.

The left wing's missile detonated.

The enemy Rafale's nose pitched downward.

It slammed into the ocean—exploding on impact.

Furina pulled up just in time, avoiding the debris.

AWACS Visionaire confirmed.

"That's another splash. Twenty-two kills for Furina de Fontaine!"

The Allied Radio erupted in cheers.

"Alright!"

"LET'S GO!"

"The Diamond Ace!"

"That was incredible, Furina!"

"What a show!"

For the first time today—Furina chuckled.

"Alright, alright. Settle down. Let's RTB."

The rest of Waltz Squadron formed up, turning back toward Iron Gale Air Force Base.

But then—

The enemy radio crackled again.

It was from the submarine.

"Captain… We lost the squadron. All taken down by the Golden Crown."

A pause.

Then—

A snarl of hatred.

"That damn bastard ruined everything…"

A crewman hesitated.

"Captain?"

Then—insanity.

"DON'T YOU SEE!?"

"SHE WALKED ALL OVER IT WITH HER DIRTY FUCKING BOOTS! OVER THE CRISP WHITE SHEETS I MADE FOR MY BED!"

Then—breathing. Deep. Shaky.

A softer voice followed.

"Let's leave her to… assist in our next plan."

"It will make a fine theater for our scheme to kill… One… Million… People."

Then—a chuckle.

"Or was it… five million…? Command Duty Officer?"

The Shadow of War

Furina's brows furrowed.

"Assist in their next plan…?"

Eula cut in.

"What does he mean?"

Furina exhaled sharply.

"I don't know… But we'd better keep an eye on our next operation. The Razushitzel isn't finished yet."

Shadows Over Iron Gale

Hours later, the roar of jet engines faded into silence as the Waltz Squadron landed safely at Iron Gale Air Force Base.

Furina's mood had lightened somewhat—but beneath the surface, a storm still brewed.

And it wasn't just her.

Something felt off about Brigadier General Buzuleac.

The thought lingered, but for now, Furina set it aside.

The briefing room was thick with tension as the timeline of the mission replayed on the display screen.

Brigadier General Buzuleac stood at the front, arms folded behind his back.

"Good work, everyone. The operation is complete. Stand by for further orders."

A moment of silence.

Then—

Furina raised a finger.

"Hold on a damn second, Brigadier General. Who in the fuck are those two asshats? And why were they after me!?"

Her eyes burned with frustration.

"And secondly—why were they using the Allied Forces' radio frequency!?"

The Brigadier General stiffened.

His eyes widened.

"Wait—you mean they were on our side?"

The room shifted uncomfortably.

Jean spoke up, cautious.

"Impossible. They didn't respond to our IFF."

The General rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

"Maybe… they were there to settle a score?"

He looked at Furina.

"It's possible, considering you're an ace yourself, Captain."

Then—Kaveh's voice crackled through the video call.

"But how did they know we had intel on their weapons of mass destruction?"

Silence.

Then—

"They wouldn't have taken such actions if they didn't know, General."

The Brigadier General scoffed.

"Then they have a spy. Espionage."

Furina crossed her arms, scowling.

"Espionage… tch."

But she caught it.

That moment of tension.

That split-second reaction from the Brigadier General when espionage was mentioned.

She narrowed her eyes.

Something wasn't right.

The Brigadier General cleared his throat, his tone sharp.

"Everyone, you can go."

The pilots didn't hesitate.

They stood, exchanged quick glances, and filed out—heading back toward the hangars for a squadron meeting.

Moments later, the Waltz Squadron gathered under the shade of Furina's Rafale.

The air was thick with unspoken thoughts.

Furina leaned against the front landing gear, arms crossed.

"Something's amiss," she muttered.

"I saw him tense up when espionage was mentioned…"

Eula nodded.

"I saw that too. Something is definitely wrong."

Jean sighed, arms folded.

"Alright. What we do know is that everyone who was stationed at this airbase before Brigadier General Buzuleac, is trustworthy."

She looked around at the squadron.

"That includes all of us."

"But for now, we tread carefully."

Clorinde gritted her teeth, shaking her head.

"I swear I'm going to make him suffer if he's the espionage…"

Furina raised a hand.

"No."

The squadron turned toward her.

Her expression darkened.

"I will deal with him."

A chill ran through the squadron.

Furina's voice was cold. Absolute.

"He specifically chose Waltz Squadron for a reason."

Her gaze sharpened.

"I think… he's trying to kill me."

The squadron froze.

Eula's eyebrow twitched.

Jean's lips parted slightly.

"Think about it," Furina continued.

"Too many coincidences. He tries to send my squadron alone. Then, those two Berkut pilots just so happened to have a grudge against me."

She met their eyes.

"Don't you think the Brigadier General wants me assassinated?"

A heavy silence.

Then—

Ningguang exhaled, nodding.

"I can imagine it…"

Mavuika crossed her arms.

"Then we have to be ready."

She looked at the squadron.

"For the next operation, we support Waltz as much as we can. Who knows if those pilots—or worse—will appear again."

The day would eventually end.

But the thought lingered in both Waltz and Primordial Squadron's minds.

Who is the espionage?

Why is Furina targeted?

And—is it the Brigadier General?