Dawn Over Dorman Sea — The Beginning of Operation Northern Front
The first light of dawn stretched across the Dorman Sea, casting an amber glow over the endless horizon. The ocean, calm yet foreboding, rolled in gentle waves beneath the steel giant cutting northward.
The Ousia-class aircraft carrier, Blancheur, surged forward, its massive hull parting the waters as it advanced toward enemy territory. The mission was set.
Their destination—
Okamenely Stol.
A contested warzone near Snezhnaya's border.
A volatile frontline where friend and foe were often indistinguishable.
A place where death could strike from the clouds or the frozen ground below.
Inside her compact quarters, Furina sat at the edge of her cot, strapping in the last of her flight gear.
Her Fontaine Air Force pilot suit, a dark navy-green, hugged her frame—designed for mobility, durability, and fire resistance in case things went to hell. The scent of oil and leather clung to the material, a mix of jet fuel and sweat from past flights.
Leaning down, she laced up her brown combat boots, making sure they were tight—there was no room for discomfort in the cockpit.
Then—
She reached for her sidearm.
A Beretta 92FS, standard issue. Not the most modern, but a reliable companion.
Her fingers wrapped around its polymer grip, the weight familiar. She chamber-checked with muscle memory, ensuring a round was seated before flicking the safety on and sliding it into the holster strapped to her left thigh.
With her gear secured, she exhaled.
Her eyes flicked to her wristwatch—
A navy-blue NATO-strapped Omega Speedmaster.
Scratched, worn, but reliable.
The same watch that had ticked away in countless sorties before.
07:00 AM.
There was still time.
Furina stood, adjusting her gloves.
"Might as well check on my plane."
She grabbed her helmet and stepped out into the organized chaos of the Blancheur.
The aircraft carrier's passageways buzzed with tension.
Deck officers moved with urgency, barking final pre-flight checks.
Aviation mechanics clanked wrenches against fuselages, running last-minute diagnostics.
Weapons specialists loaded missiles and checked bomb racks, ensuring the payload was combat-ready.
Radar officers scanned for enemy signatures, feeding updates to the battle network.
Everything was in motion. The machine of war was waking up.
Furina walked with purpose through it all.
The further she went, the thicker the scent of kerosene, hydraulic fluid, and salt air became—until she stepped onto the Blancheur's flight deck.
And there it was—
A storm of movement.
Colored vests weaved between multi-million-Mora aircraft, directing, fueling, arming.
Deck handlers signaled with precise motions, guiding the flow of pre-flight operations.
Engines roared, their turbine whines sending vibrations through the carrier's deck.
She swept her gaze across the lineup.
At the rear of the deck—Nocturne Squadron's F/A-18s sat idle, their twin engines and folded wings poised for combat.
Ahead—Tidal Squadron's aircraft stood ready.
Among them—
Lyney's F-35 Lightning II.
But at the front of the deck, one aircraft stood apart from the rest.
Her Dassault Rafale M.
The deep blue, sky blue, and white custom livery gleamed beneath the morning sun.
The golden crown emblem on the tail fin shimmered—a symbol of defiance and dominance in the skies.
She stepped closer, eyes scanning every detail.
A single external fuel pod was mounted beneath the fuselage, extending her range.
AIM-9 Sidewinders nestled beneath the wings, locked in place.
And on the inner pylons—
LACM air-to-ground missiles.
Her brows furrowed.
"LACMs?"
This wasn't just an air superiority mission.
This was a strike operation.
It meant SAM sites, enemy radars, ground fortifications.
It meant they'd be flying into heavily defended airspace.
It meant the risks just spiked.
She ran a hand along the jet's fuselage, feeling the cold metal beneath her gloves.
Before she could process it further—
A thunderous roar erupted across the deck.
Her head snapped toward the source.
An F-35 was taxiing into position for launch.
Furina stepped to a safe distance, watching as the pilot signaled the deck crew.
A sharp salute.
The deck crew crouched, preparing the launch sequence.
A firewall barrier rose behind the jet's exhaust, shielding the deck from the impending blast.
Then—
The shooter, the crew member responsible for launch, stepped forward.
A raised fist.
A single, crisp salute.
A deep crouch.
Then—
A sharp, commanding point forward.
The catapult fired.
A deafening BANG shook the deck—
The F-35 rocketed forward, its afterburner igniting in a blinding blast of orange heat.
The fighter shot off the carrier, leaving behind a thick contrail as it climbed skyward.
Furina watched its ascent, arms crossed, her blue eyes tracking its trajectory.
She smirked.
"Launching off the carrier never gets old."
Her turn would come soon.
And when it did—
She would fly straight into the fire.
Mission Briefing – Operation Northern Front
Minutes later, Tidal and Nocturne Squadrons gathered inside the carrier's briefing room.
The space was packed with pilots, their flight suits still carrying the scent of fuel and sweat from pre-flight checks.
Tension clung to the air like static before a storm.
Everyone knew what was coming.
There was no more speculation.
No more doubt.
No more drills.
This was war.
Then—
The doors swung open.
A presence commanded the room before he even spoke a word.
Admiral Augereau.
His footsteps were crisp, authoritative, his polished boots striking the deck like hammer blows.
His expression? Cold. Hard. Unyielding.
The murmurs died the moment he stepped under the harsh glow of the projector lights.
He didn't wait. He never did.
"Alright, let's begin."
His iron-clad voice cut through the last remnants of whispered conversation.
The low rumble of the carrier's engines vibrated through the floor—a grounding reminder that outside, the Blancheur was still cutting through the Dorman Sea, pushing ever closer to the frontline.
His gaze swept over the assembled pilots. Measured. Calculating.
Then, with deliberate weight, he spoke.
"If you aren't aware already, the Federation of Snezhnaya has declared war on all Teyvat nations."
A pause.
Then—
"They have mobilized everything—Air Force, Navy, Army, Marines. This is a full-scale invasion."
The words settled like lead.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Immediately after their declaration, they launched coordinated surprise attacks on multiple nations. In a matter of hours, they overran key territories and crippled major military installations."
Behind him, the projector hummed to life.
The map of Teyvat flashed onto the screen, expanding outward.
Then—
It revealed a staggering sight.
The Map – Snezhnaya's Blitzkrieg
The entire screen was drowned in red.
Snezhnaya's captured territories stretched like deep wounds across the continent.
Only small pockets of blue remained—the last holdouts of resistance.
And they were shrinking.
A ripple of unease spread through the room.
Snezhnaya wasn't just invading—
They were dominating.
Admiral Augereau's hand lifted—
The murmurs died instantly.
His tone sharpened like a blade.
"So far, they have inflicted severe damage on our armed forces. And now, they are pushing deeper into our territory from the west."
He turned slightly—
The map shifted.
A new marker flashed.
A towering structure.
The Teyvat Orbital Elevator.
The Admiral's expression darkened.
"Additionally, Snezhnayan forces have captured the Teyvat Orbital Elevator."
A visible shift rippled through the pilots.
Disbelief.
Shock.
And a growing, simmering rage.
Furina's hands clenched into fists.
Her breathing slowed—controlled.
The Admiral's voice remained cold. Absolute.
"This structure was meant to symbolize peace after the ceasefire treaty was signed twenty years ago."
A beat.
"Construction began in 2013. For years, it stood as a neutral entity. A symbol of global cooperation."
His words sharpened.
"But now?"
A pause.
Then—
"Whoever controls it has a massive strategic advantage—one that could determine the outcome of this war."
A heavy silence settled over the pilots.
Because everyone in that room knew the truth.
Whoever held the Orbital Elevator held the power to dictate the future.
Then, the Admiral's next words cut through the silence like gunfire.
His eyes locked onto the squadron leaders.
"As of today, the Charybdis 405th Squadron has been given a direct order."
The display zoomed in.
The map focused on a single, key battlefront.
A region bathed in deep red.
"We are to reclaim and capture the Teyvat Orbital Elevator as an advance element."
The room tensed.
There it was.
The first step of the counteroffensive.
But before they could take back the Elevator…
They had to win the skies.
The Admiral turned—gesturing toward the display.
The map zoomed further in.
The first engagement zone appeared.
A harsh, mountainous battlefield.
Okamenely Stol.
A key contested region on the Snezhnayan border.
"Your mission today: Engage and eliminate enemy forces approaching from the north at Okamenely Stol."
His voice was firm. Unshaken. Absolute.
"Your primary objective: Neutralize all hostile ground forces. This includes anti-aircraft units, radar vehicles, and enemy logistics stationed along key roads."
A pause.
Then—
"Additionally—be prepared for aerial engagements."
Furina's eyes narrowed slightly.
Here it is.
"If Snezhnaya sends fighters to intercept—take them down."
His gaze swept over the room.
A final, unyielding order.
"Our goal is to establish air superiority."
The Admiral straightened.
His voice unwavering. Final.
"Everyone—to your planes. Sortie immediately."
"You are dismissed."
A wave of movement erupted.
The pilots stood in unison, their boots thudding against the steel deck.
No more hesitation.
No more questions.
This was it.
Furina exhaled sharply.
Her pulse steadying.
Her muscles tensed with adrenaline.
The war had truly begun.
And today—
They would take the fight to the enemy.
Main Deck – Blancheur
The main deck of the Blancheur was a storm of movement.
Compared to earlier, the atmosphere was now twice as intense.
The air was thick with heat, fuel vapors, and adrenaline.
Steam hissed from the catapults, their powerful mechanisms primed and ready.
Deck crew in color-coded vests darted between aircraft, signaling final checks, locking munitions, and ensuring every system was combat-ready.
The roar of turbines filled the air, mixing with the distant whine of jet engines spooling to full power.
All four launch catapults were active, capable of launching four aircraft simultaneously.
The two squadrons split toward their assigned fighters.
Nocturne Squadron headed aft, where their F/A-18 Super Hornets stood in a perfectly aligned row.
Tidal Squadron moved forward, near the carrier island, where their Rafale M and F-35 Lightning II were lined up for launch.
Furina and Lyney walked in unison, their footsteps barely audible beneath the overpowering hum of machinery and human activity.
The deck was hot beneath their boots, radiating warmth from jet exhausts.
As they approached their aircraft, Lyney glanced toward her.
"Ready to go, Lieutenant?"
Furina smirked, adjusting the cuffs of her flight suit.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
Lyney nodded, his expression calm but serious.
"Good. Just be ready for anything. Sometimes—don't think. Just do."
Furina chuckled, shaking her head slightly.
"I already knew that."
They reached their aircraft.
No more words.
Just action.
Furina climbed the ladder, smoothly sliding into the cockpit.
With practiced efficiency, she strapped herself in.
She secured the ejection seat harness, pulling the straps tight.
Helmet on. Visor down. Oxygen mask locked in place.
Her fingers moved instinctively as she flipped switches, bringing the Rafale M to life.
She toggled the Main Electrical Power switch. The cockpit displays flickered, illuminating the HUD and MFDs with a soft glow.
APU online.
Flight computers initialized.
Weapons systems active.
Navigation system loading.
She reached for her flight plan papers and quickly inputted her three primary waypoints:
Blancheur (Home Waypoint)
Entrance to Snezhnayan Territory
Mission Objective at Okamenely Stol
A quick systems check confirmed:
Fuel tanks full
Weapons fully loaded—Sidewinders for air combat, LACM missiles for ground strikes
Flight controls fully operational
She reached up, lowering the canopy.
A pressurized hiss filled the air as the cockpit sealed shut.
Her right hand moved to the engine panel.
With a flick of her wrist, she engaged the engine start sequence.
A deep rumble vibrated through the fuselage as the twin M88 engines spooled up.
The low hum quickly escalated into a high-pitched howl as the turbines reached full idle power.
She checked her flight instruments—engine RPM, oil pressure, hydraulic systems—all green.
Outside, deck crew signaled the final launch sequence for Nocturne Squadron.
Nocturne Squadron – Launch Sequence
Ten minutes later—
The first four Nocturne Squadron F/A-18s were lined up on the catapults.
Nocturne Five was ordered to remain on standby aboard the carrier for emergency response.
The radio crackled to life as each pilot confirmed readiness.
"Nocturne One, ready to launch."
"Nocturne Two, ready for launch."
"Nocturne Three, ready to go."
"Nocturne Four, let's turn and burn."
The carrier tower responded.
"Nocturne Squadron, launch sequence confirmed. It's go time."
The firewalls behind each fighter lifted, shielding the deck from the afterburners' intense heat.
The deck crew crouched low, signaling final checks.
Then—
Nocturne One launched.
The catapult fired.
A thunderous roar—
The F/A-18 Super Hornet accelerated violently forward, flung into the sky at breakneck speed.
Thirty seconds later—
Nocturne Two launched.
Then—
Nocturne Three.
Then—
Nocturne Four.
AWACS Zaytun's voice cut through the comms.
"Nocturne Squadron away."
The carrier tower followed.
"Tidal One, Tidal Two—proceed to Catapult One and Catapult Two, respectively."
Furina released the parking brake, nudging the throttle forward.
Her Rafale M rolled toward Catapult Two, coming to a halt beside Lyney's F-35 Lightning II on Catapult One.
Ahead, the Shooter—the deck crew responsible for launch—stood, awaiting final alignment.
He directed Furina's nose wheel onto the catapult track, then signaled.
She reached forward, flicking the Launch Bar switch.
A soft whirr followed as the bar lowered into position, locking onto the catapult shuttle.
The deck crew immediately moved in, securing the connection.
Then—
The Shooter signaled flight control checks.
Furina nodded, gripping the sidestick and rudder pedals.
Stick forward—elevators down
Stick back—elevators up
Stick left—ailerons tilt left
Stick right—ailerons tilt right
Rudder pedals left and right—rudder deflection confirmed
Her Rafale M responded flawlessly.
Satisfied, she gave the final launch signal—
A sharp salute.
Now, she waited.
Launch Sequence – Tidal Squadron Takes Flight
Lyney was first.
The Shooter raised his hand, then saluted before crouching and pointing forward.
The F-35's catapult fired.
A thunderous explosion of acceleration—
Lyney's jet rocketed off the carrier, its afterburners flaring bright.
Now, it was Furina's turn.
The Shooter locked eyes with her.
A sharp salute.
Then—
A crouch, and a swift point forward.
Launch confirmed.
Furina tightened her grip on the stick and throttle.
Then—
She slammed the throttles to full military power.
The twin M88 engines screamed, their deep hum escalating into a furious howl.
The carrier deck vibrated under the sheer force of the engine output.
Then—
The catapult fired.
A brutal G-force slammed into her chest as the Rafale M surged forward.
Her vision blurred for a split second, the acceleration relentless.
Then—
She was airborne.
For a brief moment, there was a sense of weightlessness.
Then—
She pitched up, smoothly climbing.
Her left hand reached for the gear lever.
She pulled it up.
A soft thud confirmed the landing gear retracted.
The carrier tower's final transmission came through.
"Tidal Squadron away. Safe flight, guys."
As Furina climbed into formation with Lyney, she exhaled.
The sun reflected off her canopy.
The Blancheur faded into the ocean below.
This was it.
No more training.
No more drills.
This was war.
And from this moment forward—
There was no turning back.
It took them thirty minutes to reach land.
As they passed their first waypoint, the coastline gave way to hostile airspace—a mix of rugged forested hills, open plains, and hardened military infrastructure.
The enemy was waiting.
Then—
AWACS Zaytun's voice cut through the radio.
"Begin the mission. Take out all enemy targets. And remember—HQ said no harm to civilians."
Furina smirked, fingers flexing over the throttle.
"Let's go."
Without hesitation, she slammed the throttles forward.
Her Rafale M roared ahead, accelerating past the squadron, breaking formation with Nocturne and Tidal Squadrons.
Then—
Her HUD flashed red.
Multiple enemy contacts detected.
Lynette's voice came over the radio, firm.
"Nocturne One, tally multiple bogeys. Wilco, following Waltz."
The rest of the squadron checked in.
"Nocturne Two, following Waltz."
"Nocturne Three, following Waltz."
"Nocturne Four, following Waltz."
"Tidal One, following Waltz."
"Tidal Two, following Waltz."
Furina's eyes widened slightly.
"Following Waltz, huh? Great…" she muttered.
No time to complain.
She switched to Special Weapon 2—LACMs (Land Attack Cruise Missiles).
Her HUD locked onto the first enemy target—a radar vehicle stationed just outside a reinforced bunker.
"Fox Three!"
A LACM detached from the Rafale's wing, its solid-fuel motor igniting with a burst of fire. The missile streaked toward the enemy radar installation.
Impact.
A fiery shockwave tore through the radar dish, its support beams snapping like matchsticks. Shattered electronics and steel plating rained down as flames erupted skyward.
Then—
A third-frequency radio transmission crackled to life in their cockpits.
Snezhnayan ground troops, panicking.
"We're under attack! Requesting immediate air support! Fire the AA systems!"
Their anti-air defenses spun to life.
Furina's radar lit up with multiple SAM lock warnings.
The squadron immediately split formation, diving into evasive maneuvers.
Lynette's voice cut through the chaos.
"Prioritize enemy SAMs and AA emplacements! We'll clear the way for follow-up strikes!"
Furina rolled right, skimming the treetops at nearly 900 km/h. A missile warning blared. She dumped countermeasures, sending flares streaking behind her just as a heat-seeking missile lost track and spiraled into the dirt.
Her HUD locked onto a cluster of enemy AA batteries positioned on a ridgeline.
"Fox Three!"
Another LACM shot forward, slamming into the battery. The explosion sent shockwaves rolling through the valley, throwing debris high into the air.
Then—
They reached an enemy airbase.
AWACS Zaytun's voice came through, urgent.
"Enemy airbase below. Take out everything."
Furina responded immediately.
"Wilco."
She yanked back on the stick and slammed the throttles to idle.
Her Rafale pitched up sharply—
Then she kicked the rudder hard, rolling the jet into a high-alpha hammerhead stall maneuver.
For a moment, the aircraft hung in the air, nose pointed skyward—then she twisted it into a diving spiral, locking onto her targets mid-fall.
Lyney's voice erupted in disbelief.
"Holy shit! Did you see that!?"
Lynette's tone was equally stunned.
"You're not the only one going crazy, Magician."
Now in a steep dive, Furina switched to Special Weapon 3—multi-target air-to-ground bombs.
Her HUD highlighted four key targets at once:
Two Tu-22M bombers parked on the runway.
The enemy control tower.
A MiG-25 Foxbat in pre-flight status.
She hit the release switch.
"Bombs away!"
She yanked the stick back, pulling 6.5 Gs as she climbed out of the dive.
Then—
Four massive explosions.
The Tu-22M bombers detonated in twin fireballs, their fuselages splitting apart as fuel tanks erupted. The shockwave knocked over ground crew, sending debris scattering across the tarmac.
The control tower buckled inward, its shattered windows spraying outward in a storm of glass and metal. The entire structure collapsed seconds later, crushing command personnel inside.
The MiG-25 Foxbat never had a chance—its canopy was still open when the blast wave consumed it, flipping the aircraft onto its side before it exploded.
AWACS Zaytun confirmed the kill.
"Bullseye Waltz! That's a direct hit!"
Then—
Lynette's warning came through, tense.
"Watch the clouds! They can interfere with our IFF systems and cause icing. Be careful!"
But before anyone could respond—
AWACS Zaytun's voice sharpened.
"We've got six bogeys inbound! Prepare for a dogfight!"
Furina's smirk returned.
"Game on."
She shoved the throttles to max, afterburners roaring to life as the Rafale M surged forward. The G-forces pressed her back into the seat as she pulled into a high-angle climb, vapor clouds forming around the canards.
The enemy fighters popped up on her HUD—fast-moving contacts closing in at high altitude.
Then—
Furina did the unthinkable.
She charged straight at them.
Lynette's voice spiked with alarm.
"Waltz! What the hell are you doing!?"
No response.
Furina flicked her weapons selector to Special Weapon 1—Long-Range Air-to-Air Missiles (LRAAMs). The Rafale's fire control computer locked onto three enemy fighters simultaneously, threat brackets flashing across her HUD.
She squeezed the trigger.
"Fox Three!"
Three missiles detached from her fuselage pylons, their rocket motors igniting as they streaked through the sky, contrails carving through the clouds.
Then—
Furina snapped the stick left, rolling into a blistering high-G barrel roll to evade potential return fire. The force pressed against her chest, her G-suit constricting to keep blood from draining from her head.
From below, Lyney's voice cracked with disbelief.
"Fox Three!?"
His helmeted head tilted up, catching a glimpse of Furina spiraling away from her own missile volley.
Then—
Three violent fireballs erupted in the distance.
AWACS Zaytun confirmed the kills.
"Three bandits splashed!"
Lyney's voice was staggered.
"Th-Three in one!?"
The remaining enemy fighters immediately broke formation, diving into lower altitude combat.
Lyney locked onto one of them and fired.
"Fox Two!"
The heat-seeker streaked toward the target, locking onto the engine signature—
A direct hit. The fighter erupted into flames, spiraling toward the ground.
Two left.
Furina banked hard, threading through the dense cloud cover. Vapor trailed from her wingtips as she weaved through the turbulent air.
But the last two enemy fighters had locked onto her six.
Her RWR (Radar Warning Receiver) screamed in her ears.
Missile warning. Multiple locks.
"Shit."
She yanked the stick into a break-turn, pulling nearly 9G as she spiraled downward. The Rafale groaned under the strain. Despite her evasive maneuver, the missile kept tracking.
Lyney's voice cut through the comms.
"Waltz, break left! I'm on them!"
But Furina gritted her teeth.
No. She had a better idea.
Her fingers flicked the throttle levers to idle.
Then—
She yanked the stick back and deployed full airbrakes.
Her Rafale M pitched into an extreme Cobra maneuver, the nose whipping up nearly vertical.
The sudden loss of speed caught the enemy pilots off guard—
They overshot.
Now—
She was right on their tails.
Her HUD locked onto the first fighter.
She squeezed the trigger.
"Fox Two!"
The missile shot forward, streaking through the air and detonating against the enemy aircraft's fuselage. The jet snapped apart, fire and debris scattering through the sky.
One left.
She shoved the throttle back to full military power, her engines roaring as she closed the gap. The final enemy fighter juked and rolled aggressively, trying to shake her lock.
Then—
A new transmission cut through the radio.
A cold, mechanical voice.
"Launch preparations complete. Bolt checks confirmed. Ready when you are, sir."
A brief pause.
Then, a final, chilling order from the enemy flight lead.
"Launch the UAVs."
On the ground below, military trucks carrying massive containers skidded to a halt, tires screeching against the pavement. The drivers barely had time to react before the metal ceilings of the containers suddenly slammed open with a metallic clang, the sound echoing across the battlefield.
A sharp, whirring mechanical hum filled the air.
Then—
Engines roared to life.
One by one, sleek, jet-black unmanned combat aerial vehicles (UCAVs) ignited their turbines, their afterburners screaming as they powered up. Their angular designs glinted ominously under the sun—razor-edged fuselages built for speed and lethality.
Then—
They launched.
A deafening sonic boom shattered the sky.
The UCAVs rocketed upward in near-vertical climbs, their jet engines leaving behind thin, ghostly contrails as they accelerated at impossible speeds. Their black silhouettes streaked toward the battlefield, moving with a predatory precision that sent a chill down Furina's spine.
The radio exploded with confusion.
"What the hell just happened!?" Nocturne Three yelled.
Nocturne One—Lynette—immediately took command.
"I need a status report! NOW!"
AWACS Zaytun's voice came through, strained but focused.
"Multiple bogeys inbound! Tracking their trajectory—stand by!"
Then—
Lyney's voice cut in, sharp with realization.
"Looks like they're being launched from the ground!?"
Furina's eyes narrowed. Her grip tightened on the stick.
"Shit. They're drones!"
Lynette cursed.
"Fuck this. Take them all out! Don't leave a single one running!"
Furina's jaw set.
"Wilco."
She slammed her throttle forward. The Rafale surged ahead.
Her HUD lit up with the incoming swarm—each red marker moving with unnatural, machine-like precision.
She locked onto the first UAV as it rapidly climbed, its AI-driven maneuvers erratic yet frighteningly efficient.
Furina matched its ascent, throttling to full afterburner, her jet punching through the sky in a near-vertical climb.
The drone twisted in midair, attempting to snap-roll away.
But Furina was faster.
Her crosshair steadied.
Her finger squeezed the trigger.
BRRRRT!
The 30mm cannon tore through the UAV's fuselage, shredding its central avionics module.
The drone disintegrated mid-climb, a fiery burst of metal and debris spiraling downward in a violent spiral.
"Tidal Two, splash one!" AWACS Zaytun confirmed.
The rest of the squadron engaged immediately.
Nocturne Three locked onto a drone, missile away.
"Fox Two!"
The Sidewinder streaked toward its target.
A direct hit.
The UCAV burst into flames, its wreckage plummeting toward the battlefield below.
Nocturne Four targeted one of the remaining MiG-25 Foxbats, weaving through its desperate high-speed rolls before launching a missile.
"Fox Two!"
The Foxbat exploded, torn apart in an instant.
"Splash one! That's the last of the MiGs!" AWACS confirmed.
But—
The drones were still active.
And now—
Furina was in trouble.
Drone Lock-On—Furina Evades
Two UAVs had locked onto her six o'clock.
Their advanced AI predicted her movements, mirroring her every evasive maneuver with eerie precision.
Then—
Her cockpit screamed.
"MISSILE! MISSILE!"
The incoming IR-guided missiles were closing fast—far too fast.
Furina's instincts took over.
She slammed the stick hard right, deploying flares as her Rafale twisted violently into a high-G spiral dive.
The missiles adjusted.
They were still tracking.
Shit!
Furina gritted her teeth.
She yanked back on the stick, pulling up into a vertical spiral.
The G-forces crushed her into her seat.
Her vision darkened at the edges—her breathing steady, controlled.
The missiles still weren't fooled.
Then—
She made her move.
Furina cut the throttles to idle and yanked back HARD.
Her Rafale pitched up into a Pugachev Cobra.
The jet hung in midair—bleeding speed in an instant.
The drones' AI couldn't anticipate it in time.
They overshot.
Now—
Furina was face-to-face with them.
She squeezed the trigger.
"Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinder missiles detached from her wings, streaking forward.
The drones tried to evade—
But—
They couldn't.
Both exploded simultaneously, debris spiraling down in fiery arcs.
"Waltz got two bandits!" AWACS confirmed.
Furina slammed her throttles forward, breaking out of the stall and diving back into the fight.
The Last Dogfight—Unmatched Precision
The last three drones broke formation.
They split in different directions—each executing erratic, high-speed turns.
Furina didn't hesitate.
She chased the first, matching its brutal G-turn.
Her vision blurred—her body screamed from the force.
Then—
Lock acquired.
"Fox Two!"
The missile streaked forward—direct hit.
She tore through the explosion, debris bouncing off her canopy.
The second drone dove sharply—trying to lure her into a reckless chase.
Furina stayed patient.
She mirrored its descent, watching as it snapped into a barrel roll.
Not enough.
Her crosshair steadied.
"Fox Two!"
The Sidewinder slammed into its fuselage.
Another kill.
Then—
One left.
This one was different.
It didn't panic.
Instead—
It executed perfect high-G turns, weaving unpredictably.
It was testing her.
Furina clenched her jaw.
You're not beating me.
She followed every movement, her Rafale twisting through the sky with surgical precision.
Then—
It climbed, desperate.
Her HUD flashed red—final lock acquired.
She fired.
"Fox Two!"
The missile streaked forward—
The drone attempted one last dodge—
But—
It failed.
The explosion rocked the sky.
"All bogeys splashed! We have air superiority!" AWACS Zaytun called.
Furina exhaled sharply.
Her body ached from the G-loads, but she forced her breathing steady.
Then—
"Mission accomplished. RTB."
Furina didn't smirk.
She simply throttled back, turned for home—
And let the silence sink in.
She pulled back on the stick, climbing smoothly through the atmosphere.
The thick, turbulent clouds parted as she ascended—giving way to an endless, crystalline blue sky.
For the first time since the battle began, the world felt… quiet.
Furina exhaled, her breath steadying. She reached for the panel, flicking a switch—
Autopilot engaged.
Her Rafale steadied itself, settling into a gentle cruise back to base.
Then—
Movement on her radar.
She glanced at her RWR screen as Nocturne Squadron and Tidal One formed up around her. Their silhouettes emerged from the clouds, gliding seamlessly into formation.
Furina relaxed. They made it.
But—
Something felt… off.
She frowned slightly, scanning her HUD.
Instead of Nocturne One and Tidal One leading the formation—
She was in front.
Her Rafale sat dead center in the formation's V-shape, with everyone else falling in behind.
Furina's brow furrowed.
"What's going on, guys?"
Lynette's voice came through, carrying an unmistakable smirk.
"You got ace again, Waltz. You're leading the formation."
Furina's eyes widened.
"Seriously!?"
A chuckle came from Lyney over the radio.
"Waltz, you earned it. Let it sink in. RTB."
She blinked, staring at her instruments.
Then, slowly, Furina raised her gloved hands in front of her, fingers slightly trembling.
Eleven confirmed kills.
Again.
The dogfights replayed in her mind—the rapid turns, the high-G maneuvers, the kill shots that felt impossibly precise.
Then—
A smile spread across her lips.
A pure, genuine smirk.
Her gloved fist shot up—punching the air.
"Alright… Fucking awesome!"
Then—
She gently tilted her nose downward, guiding the squadron home.
After The Battle – The War Continues
Hours later—
Both Nocturne and Tidal Squadrons had returned safely to the Blancheur.
The carrier's deck was alive with post-sortie operations. Crews rushed between aircraft, hydraulic lifts groaned under the weight of munitions, and the scent of burnt fuel and saltwater hung in the air.
But the roar of jet engines had died down.
Now, only the hum of machinery, the distant clanking of tools, and the rhythmic crash of ocean waves remained.
The pilots had barely touched the deck before being summoned once more—
For the debrief.
Briefing Room
The room carried an air of exhaustion—but also triumph.
Pilots leaned against their chairs, some rubbing their temples, others still gripping their helmets. Their bodies were worn, but their eyes burned with determination.
They had won.
At the front, Admiral Augereau stood, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
Then—
He spoke, his voice steady, unwavering.
"Great work, everyone. We have gained air superiority over Okamenely Stol."
His gaze swept across the room.
"With that, the first obstacle standing in our way of reclaiming the Elevator is gone. This is the perfect time to regroup and begin the counteroffensive. Let's take back what belongs to Teyvat."
A brief pause.
Then—his next words carried weight.
"Because of your success today—Operation Liberty is now a go.
We will advance to the Morozvyat Plains."
The room fell silent.
This was it.
The counterattack was beginning.
Admiral Augereau let the gravity of his words settle before offering a sharp salute.
"Everyone… dismissed."
The pilots stood, returning the gesture.
Some headed straight for their bunks, desperate for rest.
Others made their way to the cafeteria, searching for a moment of peace.
But Furina didn't follow.
Instead—
She found herself walking alone to the main deck.
Carrier Deck – Under the Night Sky
The cool ocean breeze greeted her, whipping against her flight suit as she stepped out into the open air.
The night was calm.
Her mind wasn't.
Her eyes locked onto her aircraft.
Her Dassault Rafale M.
It sat silently under the carrier's deck lights, its sleek, battle-worn fuselage reflecting the dim glow.
For a moment—
She just stood there.
Staring.
Her mind replayed the battle.
The kills.
The explosions.
The maneuvers that pushed her to the limit.
She had felt it in the moment—the rush, the instinct, the pure focus.
But now?
It hadn't fully sunk in.
She had done it.
Ace.
Twice.
A fresh wave of realization hit her.
I did it again.
Then—
She heard footsteps behind her.
Lyney and Lynette.
The twins approached, their expressions carrying a mix of pride and amusement.
Lynette was the first to speak.
She gave Furina a firm pat on the back.
"Well done, Furina. You got ace again."
Furina nodded slowly, her gaze still locked on her jet.
"I know… It… it hasn't sunk in just yet."
Lyney grinned, bumping her shoulder lightly.
"Seriously. You earned it."
Then—
His expression shifted, curiosity replacing amusement.
He crossed his arms.
"From what Nocturne Two and Four said… you pulled off a Pugachev Cobra out there."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"What the hell is going on with your plane?"
Furina let out a small chuckle, shaking her head.
"I don't know. And I don't care. Whatever it is… I like how it handles."
Lynette smirked, placing her hands on her hips.
"Whatever it is, it's giving us good results for the war."
Lyney exhaled sharply, nodding.
"Yeah. And we're gonna need more of that soon."
He gestured toward the carrier's interior.
"Come on, let's head back and rest. We've got a few days before the next operation kicks off."
Furina exhaled, taking one last look at her Rafale before turning away.
"Alright. Let's go."
The three walked back inside the carrier, leaving the cool night air behind.
Another day of dogfighting, defending, and surviving was over.
For now—
They had time to rest.
But only for a while.
Because this was just the beginning of the war.