Wings of the Stars

One Week Later...

The war had stalled.

With Officer Rotchev and Captain Belinda dead, whatever progress had been made toward peace negotiations was gone.

The last operation of the Sealed Order was completed. Communications with headquarters had gone silent. The Teyvat Strategic Strike Group was at a standstill.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy. The smell of old coffee and engine grease clung to the air, a reminder of how long they'd been grounded. A large map of Snezhnaya was pinned against the wall, covered in marker lines, push pins, and hastily scribbled notes.

Jean sat at the head of the table, exhausted, running a hand through her disheveled hair. She had spent the last hour listening to everyone's thoughts—opinions, frustrations, suggestions, grievances.

All except Furina's.

Jean sighed, shifting in her chair. "Alright, Furina. Your turn."

Furina didn't hesitate. She stood, stepping forward and pressing her finger against the map.

"Zephyr's Island."

Jean's eyebrows lifted slightly as she leaned forward. "Go on. What about it?"

Furina exhaled, tapping the map again. It made sense.

"Zephyr's Island used to belong to Mondstadt before the war. When it started, Snezhnaya seized it and turned it into a resupply base for their forces at the Teyvat Orbital Elevator.

"My previous squadron, i was at before. The Drowned Squadron. Launched an operation to take it back. They managed to secure the northern half of the island. There's an airbase there that they use."

Jean nodded, listening intently as Furina continued.

"But here's the important part." Furina pointed again. "Zephyr's Island is a key supply base. It's where the Sepharis Bird Celestia launches its SSTO shuttles to resupply the Sepharis Bird."

The room went silent.

Every pilot in the room understood the implications.

A direct path to the Elevator.

A chance to regroup with whatever allies remained.

A chance to do something.

Furina continued. "It wont be easy to take Zephyr's Island. And obviously Snezhnaya wont bring down a fight. So our only choice is to help out the remaining Allies we have left, and help them Evacuate."

Jean leaned back in her chair, considering it. She finally nodded.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea..."

From the other side of the room, Mavuika raised a finger.

"But do we even have enough supplies?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Eula spoke up.

"I checked," she said, arms crossed. "We have enough fuel for two more sorties. As for food and water..." She sighed. "A week and a half. Maybe."

Collei groaned, slumping back in her chair.

"I just want to go home..."

A few pilots murmured in agreement. The exhaustion was setting in.

Raiden Ei nodded, arms folded. "Me too."

Amber, however, shook her head.

"But if Furina is ready to kick ass, then so am I!"

Clorinde nodded. "Same here."

Wriothesley chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Whatever it is, I'm ready."

Jean exhaled and looked at Furina.

"Well, Furina? It's your call."

Furina turned to her squadron, meeting each of their eyes.

She nodded once.

"Let's get in gear and haul ass to Zephyr's Island."

The squadron stood, grabbing their helmets. The briefing was over.

But Furina held up a hand.

"Wait."

Everyone turned.

Furina's expression hardened.

"We can avoid the Sepharis Bird circling the Elevator. We can do so by engaging in unwanted combat en route to Zephyr's Island."

She let that sink in.

"The last thing we need is a dogfight mid-flight. We only have enough fuel for two sorties. If we burn too much fuel before reaching the island, we'll be screwed."

She glanced around the room.

"This is a long flight—one hour. Everyone stay sharp."

There were no objections. Everyone understood the stakes.

With that, the pilots nodded and headed out.

Furina and Jean were the last to leave, grabbing their helmets as they stepped into the cool air of the airfield.

Above them, the bright sky loomed. The next phase of the war was about to begin.

As they walked across the dimly lit apron, the hum of ground crews and the distant whine of auxiliary power units filled the cool evening air. The scent of jet fuel, grease, and lingering smoke from previous sorties hung heavy.

Jean placed a firm hand on Furina's shoulder, her tone calm yet serious.

"You know, Furina…" Jean began, her voice barely audible over the idling engines nearby. "You'd make a great commander."

Furina let out a chuckle, shaking her head.

"Me? Nah," she scoffed, a small smirk on her lips. "I mean… I was somewhat of a leader before. Not really. Maybe I just… know how to talk to people?"

Jean chuckled too, shaking her head. "Something like that, yeah."

They walked a few more steps before stopping. The faint amber glow of the taxiway lights reflected off their visors.

Then, without another word, the duo parted ways.

Furina strode toward her Dassault Rafale, the sleek delta-winged fighter waiting like a predatory beast ready to pounce. Jean, on the other hand, headed for her Grumman F-14B Tomcat, its massive twin tails standing proudly against the bright sky.

Furina reached the left side of her Rafale, gripping the built-in ladder and hoisting herself up. The metal was cold against her gloves as she climbed.

Sliding into the ejector seat, she immediately pulled the harness over her shoulders, buckling it across her chest. The click of the lock mechanism was reassuring. She tugged at the adjustor tabs, ensuring the fit was snug.

Reaching over, she grabbed her helmet, slipping it over her head with a practiced motion. The faint scent of sweat and synthetic padding filled her nose as she adjusted it. Then, she secured the oxygen mask, the seal hissing as the connectors locked in place.

Leaning forward, she tapped at the left multi-function display (MFD), navigating through the system to input her flight plan.

Two waypoints.

Dymny Kordon Air Force Base – Home.

Zephyr's Island – The target.

Satisfied, she closed the canopy. The hydraulic whirr as the reinforced glass slid shut sealed her away from the outside world. She reached down and retracted the built-in ladder, locking it into place.

With a deep breath, Furina flipped the main electrical switch from STBY to RIGHT.

The Rafale roared to life.

The right-side Snecma M88-2 engine began spooling up, the low whine growing into a deep mechanical howl. The N2 gauge climbed rapidly—10%, 15%, 20%, 25%—before she reached over and pushed the right engine management lever from STOP to IDLE.

Fuel flow initiated.

A brief pause.

Then, the engine ignited.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the airframe as the turbine stabilized at idle thrust. The EGT climbed, then settled.

One down. One to go.

Furina repeated the process for the left engine, flipping the switch from RIGHT to LEFT and watching as the second M88-2 roared to life.

Both engines stabilized. Ready.

She exhaled, then switched to comms.

Her voice crackled through the radio.

"Waltz Squadron, callsign check."

The responses came in one by one.

"Rapperia, Waltz Two."

"Wolfbite, Waltz Three."

"Spindrift, Waltz Four."

"Cuilenen, Waltz Five."

Everyone was accounted for.

Furina nodded to herself, then switched to the squadron frequency.

"Waltz Squadron, Sortie now."

Disengaging the parking brakes, she nudged the throttle forward, guiding the Rafale onto the taxiway.

As she passed the row of hangars, she caught glimpses of the others doing the same—engines spooling, lights flickering, canopies closing. One by one, the rest of Waltz Squadron emerged, their sleek silhouettes illuminated by the runway beacons.

Then came Primordial Squadron.

Jean led the pack in her F-14B Tomcat, its wings swept forward for taxi.

They lined up, one by one, at the runway threshold.

Furina was first.

Her gloved hand tightened around the throttle. This was it.

She pushed the throttle forward—

The M88-2 engines erupted, afterburners igniting like twin suns.

The Rafale surged forward, the force pinning her back against the seat.

The runway lights blurred, speed climbing fast—120 knots, 140 knots, 160 knots...

At 168 knots, she gently pulled back on the sidestick.

The nose lifted.

The Rafale glided off the runway, smoothly transitioning from ground to air.

As she climbed, she reached for the landing gear lever and pulled it up.

The gear retracted, locking into place with a solid thunk.

Then, one by one, the rest of the squadron took off. Five-second intervals.

Each aircraft ascended into the moonlit sky, afterburners leaving streaks of fire across the sky.

Within minutes, they were airborne.

Furina switched back to the squadron frequency.

"Alright, boys and girls... it's a one-hour flight. Get comfortable."

A few chuckles came over the radio.

But beneath the casual banter, everyone knew the truth.

This was just the beginning.

The mission to Zephyr's Island had begun.

And what awaited them was a battlefield yet unknown.

One Hour Later – Zephyr's Island Airspace

The two squadrons descended from the north, slicing through the overcast sky in dual V formations. Below them, the island stretched out, its once-pristine beaches now scarred by war. Black smoke rose in thick columns, marking active battle zones, and distant flashes of gunfire flickered like lightning across the landscape.

As they began their descent, the radio crackled with urgency.

"This is Bravo Eight-Six! We're being pursued by multiple APCs!"

"They'll go down if we don't pull the landing craft!"

"Then what!? Abandon them and leave them to die!?"

The tension was immediate and suffocating.

Eula's voice cut through the radio, sharp with suspicion.

"Something's not right…"

Furina nodded, gripping her stick tighter.

"Agreed. Something feels… off."

Then, the allied frequency crackled again—but this time, it sent a chill down their spines.

"Bravo Eight-Six… I'm sorry, but you're on your own."

A pause.

Then—

"Please! Don't leave us!"

The desperation in the pilot's voice hung heavy over the squadron.

Then, Mavuika's voice came through, confusion laced in her words.

"Wait… That's a Natlan landing craft. What the hell is going on!?"

Wriothesley's brow furrowed.

"What did you just say!?"

Before they could process the implications, another urgent call came through.

"Multiple aerial bogeys! Inbound!"

"Prepare the anti-air weapons!"

Furina's jaw tightened. She switched to the allied frequency.

"This is the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group! The aircraft in your airspace are part of TSSG—hold your fire!"

A moment of silence.

Then, a shocked voice came through.

"Wait… I recognize that voice! Captain De Fontaine!?"

Another crewman chimed in, realization dawning.

"It's the pilot with the golden crown!"

As Furina navigated her targeting system, her IFF flickered rapidly—then updated.

The ships below were friendly.

The same crewman's voice returned, relieved yet frantic.

"Allied aircraft! Our forces are taking fire—we need close air support NOW!"

Furina's lips curled into a determined smirk.

"Waltz One, engaging."

Furina broke from formation, her Rafale slicing through the sky as she banked toward the shoreline. Her targeting system worked fast, locking onto the six unknown ground units below.

The first three updated as allies.

The last three?

Her IFF flickered again—red markers appeared.

Enemy Ground Vehicles. Snezhnayan Radicals.

A sharp, high-pitched tone filled her cockpit.

Lock.

Her thumb hovered over the trigger.

"Fox Three!"

Two LACM missiles streaked from her wings, spiraling down toward the hostile units.

A direct hit.

The AWACS operator, Visionaire, came over the radio.

"Three enemy vehicles destroyed."

More information came through.

"We're transmitting the ID codes of the two squadrons now."

"Update us on the situation on the ground."

A crewman responded, his voice strained.

"It's not good. Snezhnayan rebels have broken through the northern front. We're evacuating and heading straight for the Teyvat Orbital Elevator."

Furina's eyes widened.

"Wait—you're heading for the Elevator!? But that means…"

The crewman didn't hesitate.

"Yes, Captain De Fontaine. But we received intel that it was deserted and abandoned after the capital fell and the communication satellites were destroyed. We can avoid the Sepharis Bird by using the enemies data link to spoof the Sepharis Bird's IFF System."

A heavy silence settled over the radio.

Then, he spoke again—this time, with desperation.

"Our forces are on the run. We've also commandeered boats from the Snezhnayan military, but we need air support. Please. Help us evacuate as many as possible. We can't hold out much longer."

AWACS Visionaire responded.

"Wilco."

Then, a firm reminder:

"Remember—do not engage until targets are ID'd."

A sudden wave of new contacts flooded their radars.

Unknowns. Scattered all over Zephyr's Island.

Jean's voice rang out over the comms.

"Waltz and Primordial Squadron, spread out! Take out any Snezhnayan radicals. If the conservatives fire on us—take them down."

The squadrons broke formation, each aircraft splitting off across Zephyr's Island.

Furina veered north, her HUD highlighting a familiar structure—a mass driver base, its electromagnetic catapult stretching across the coastline.

The same base where the Sepharis Birds, Karatel and Celestia, had launched their maiden flights four years ago.

Her targeting system flickered, locking onto three enemy contacts.

Then, confirmation.

Snezhnayan Rebel APCs, tanks, and an AA vehicle.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

A LACM missile streaked away, its white-hot exhaust plume cutting through the thick gray sky.

Furina yanked the stick back, pulling into a sharp climb just seconds before impact.

Direct hit.

The radio crackled again.

"The Snezhnayans are fighting amongst themselves!"

Wriothesley sighed.

"At least we know what's going on now…"

But the next transmission sent a chill through them all.

"Holy shit… look at these bodies…"

"War crimes. Innocent civilians. Executed. They never stood a chance."

Another voice, hardened with disgust.

"Take pictures. We'll submit this to HQ. These bastards will answer to the International Court."

Furina's stomach twisted, but she forced herself to focus.

She swung back around for another attack pass, locking onto three more targets.

Her IFF flickered—red markers.

Snezhnayan Rebellion AA Weapons.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

The missile tore through the sky, a blinding streak of fire before it struck home.

Direct hit.

Meanwhile, Clorinde swooped over a neighborhood, locking onto a RKTL truck.

Her IFF flickered—Snezhnayan Conservative units.

But they were aimed straight at her.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

The LACM missile streaked forward, impacting the truck in a violent detonation.

The explosion engulfed three more RKTL trucks hidden within the neighborhood.

Across the radio, chaos unfolded.

"If you see the Rafale with the gold crown—count to three, and the enemy is gone!"

"Keep your foot planted on the gas! Don't let up until we reach the harbor!"

"Damn these Snezhnayan fuckers! These are blatant war crimes!"

"They executed civilians. All tied up. Starved. Mostly families. Even the children."

"Take the photos. Submit them to HQ. This evidence will bury them."

A pause.

Then, a voice, filled with seething rage.

"The Snezhnayans will pay for this… they don't deserve mercy. Never."

Furina's grip on the stick tightened.

Her voice was quiet.

"War crimes… that's something I'll never forget… and never want to see."

As the battle raged on, one thing became clear.

The island wasn't just a battlefield. It was a graveyard.

As Waltz Squadron secured the western front, the eastern battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos.

The ground below was a shifting mass of conflicting forces—some friendly, some hostile, and some caught in the uncertain void of the IFF system. The situation was volatile, the fog of war thick and unforgiving.Jean's F-14B Tomcat roared through the sky, descending sharply as her targeting system locked onto a cluster of six RKTL trucks stationed in a subdivision.

Her IFF flickered, struggling to distinguish allies from enemies, but once it stabilized—hostile markers confirmed.

Tone.

Lock.

Her thumb pressed down on the trigger.

"Fox Three!"

From the belly of her Tomcat, two LAGM missiles dropped before igniting, their engines roaring to life as they streaked toward their targets.

Impact.

A massive fireball erupted, debris raining down across the subdivision.

Jean pulled up, her afterburners glowing bright, before banking around for another pass.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Two more missiles ripped through the sky, slamming into the remaining RKTL trucks.

Amber's voice crackled over the radio, excitement evident.

"Two more to go, Jean!"

Jean nodded, leveling out before diving again. The last two trucks were attempting to relocate, but they weren't fast enough.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

The final two missiles struck home, obliterating the last RKTL units.

Amber punched the air.

"Hell yeah! All RKTL trucks splashed!"

Jean gritted her teeth, scanning for any new hostiles. They were cutting through the enemy piece by piece, but the eastern side was still an absolute warzone.

Raiden was locked onto an unknown target below. She began her dive, ready to strike—

Then it opened fire.

Without hesitation, she launched a Sidewinder missile and broke off.

The missile found its mark, striking with a direct hit.

For a moment, she felt a surge of satisfaction—until AWACS Visionaire's voice hit her like a hammer.

"Raiden! That's an ally!"

Raiden's blood ran cold.

She slammed her gloved hand onto the control panel, cursing violently.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

Her stomach twisted. She knew it was bound to happen in a battlefield this chaotic—but it didn't make it any easier.

War wasn't forgiving. Mistakes like this… lingered.

Furina's Eastern Push – The Unexpected Salute

Furina's Rafale rocketed eastward, passing over the now-secured airbase. She was heading straight into one of the largest concentrations of unknowns left on the island.

Her helmet-mounted display system (HMD) flickered with multiple red markers.

She broke right, her aircraft dipping into a dive as she lined up a strike.

Tone.

Lock.

But then—her IFF flickered again.

The markers updated.

Three Snezhnayan Conservative Anti-Air Vehicles.

But something was wrong.

They weren't firing at her.

Instead, their crews stood beside them—uniformed soldiers standing at attention.

Saluting.

Furina's heart skipped a beat.

She immediately pulled out of the dive, climbing back to altitude and banking eastward.

She switched to comms.

"I got multiple Snezhnayan Conservatives. Soldiers stood there… saluting at me."

A pause.

Then, AWACS Visionaire responded.

"That's good. At least we got some Snezhnayans on our side."

It was a rare sight—a battlefield where some enemies knew when the fight was over.

With each passing moment, the battlefield shifted.

The IFF system updated constantly—unknowns becoming marked hostiles, then disappearing as they were shot down.

Those marked as Snezhnayan Conservatives? Some stayed. Some vanished as they turned their weapons against the fighters.

By the end, the numbers spoke for themselves.

Final Kill Count:

Furina – 38 confirmed kills

Collei – 24

Mavuika & Eula – 18 each

Jean & Amber – 17 each

Raiden, Ningguang & Clorinde – 15 each

Wriothesley – 14

The battle for Zephyr's Island was coming to an end.

As Furina locked onto an enemy RKTL truck, her radio crackled with a familiar male voice.

"Hey. You! Dumbass with the Golden Crown. You there?"

Furina raised an eyebrow before responding.

"Who the hell—?"

The voice continued, urgent but strangely casual, given the situation.

"I need you to help us here. We got trapped civilians. A group of refugees surrounded by tanks and APCs."

"Needless to say… their futures aren't looking too bright."

AWACS Visionaire immediately cut in, his tone strict and suspicious.

"This is a secure military line. Identify yourself."

The voice chuckled.

"You may know me as… The Aircraft Alchemist."

Furina's eyes widened in shock. Then, a smirk formed on her lips.

"Stand down, Visionaire. He's an ally! Let me speak to him."

"Albedo! Never in a million years did I think I'd hear from you again!"

Albedo chuckled.

"Great to hear from you too, Furina. Nice to see you've got your own squadron, huh?"

"Damn right I do."

Then, another voice chimed in—a woman's voice, full of confidence.

"Hey, Furina. This is Lune—Drowned Squadron's Number Eight! I knew you were still up there kicking ass!"

Furina shook her head with a small laugh.

"Lune! It's great to hear from you too."

Lune laughed.

"Remember! Stick with Waltz, and you'll make it!"

Then Albedo's voice returned, more serious.

"Alright, listen. I've got some intel. Hope you all are interested."

Ningguang chimed in.

"Of course we are. We're all ears, Mr. Alchemist."

Albedo chuckled.

"Alright. But first—help these refugees."

Ningguang nodded, speaking firmly.

"Send us your coordinates."

Albedo sighed, amused.

"I figured you'd say that."

AWACS Visionaire's voice came through.

"Wait. You don't have a Laser Target Indicator?"

Albedo responded casually.

"No."

Then, another voice entered the conversation. A cold, regal tone.

A woman.

"Use a smoke canister."

Jean's eyes widened in shock.

"Wait… is that... The Tsaritsa!?"

Albedo's voice came back, nonchalant.

"Yes."

A stunned silence filled the radio.

Then—

A trail of thick red smoke rose into the sky.

Furina's eyes caught the smoke first.

"I see red smoke! Is that you, Albedo!?"

"Yes! And hurry! Those tanks are closing in!"

Furina slammed her throttles forward, her Rafale roaring ahead.

Then, AWACS Visionaire issued the final order.

"All aircraft, your IFF system has been updated via threat matrix datalink. Take out those targets!"

The remaining unknowns surrounding the refugees instantly updated as enemies.

Furina smirked.

"Let's go."

She lined up her first shot.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

A LACM missile streaked from her wing.

Direct hit. One tank obliterated.

Then came Collei's Rafale M, following right behind.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Another tank erased from existence.

Next, Jean and Amber's F-14B Tomcat.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Two LAGM missiles streaked away.

Two APCs exploded in fiery eruptions.

Finally, Clorinde's Rafale swept in.

Tone.

Lock.

"Fox Three!"

Two more LACM missiles fired off.

The final two tanks went up in flames.

Suddenly, Albedo's voice returned, cheers from survivors echoing in the background.

"Nice job! We're in the clear!"

"No casualties!"

Laughter came through the radio, mixed with relief and exhaustion.

Then, Albedo spoke again.

"Alright. Time to spill the intel."

The channel went silent as every pilot listened.

"I heard from a defected Snezhnayan soldier that a Single-Stage-To-Orbit (SSTO) craft will be launching from the Mass Driver Base up west."

AWACS Visionaire let out a tired sigh.

"Well… that's something. Valuable information."

But before anyone could respond—

Sirens blared across the island.

Wriothesley shook his head.

"That doesn't sound good."

Something big was about to happen.

The Countdown to Chaos

For the first time since the battle began, the enemy radio crackled to life.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One…"

Then—

The roar of rocket boosters tore through the sky.

As Furina neared the Mass Driver Base, her IFF system updated.

Two Single-Stage-To-Orbit (SSTO) Supply Ships had just launched.

Their trajectory? Northeast.

Directly toward the Sepharis Bird Celestia.

Furina's eye twitched.

"Shit! They launched Single-Stage-To-Orbit Vehicles!"

Albedo's voice cut in sharply.

"They're supply ships for the Sepharis Bird! You have to take them out!"

Furina slammed her throttle forward, her Rafale roaring ahead in a desperate chase.

Her squadron struggled to keep up, her acceleration leaving them far behind.

Then, she glanced toward the clouds—

Lightning.

"Fuuuuck! This can't get any worse!"

And then—

It did.

The two SSTO ships split formation.

One veered toward clear skies.

The other? Straight into the storm.

Furina instinctively turned left, choosing the storm-chasing route.

AWACS Visionaire's voice came through her radio.

"Furina, you have three minutes before it reaches the Sepharis Bird's air defense network! Hurry!"

Furina gritted her teeth, yelling back.

"I'M TRYING!"

Her Rafale pushed to its limit, breaking the sound barrier as she closed in.

Then, they plunged into the storm.

Her cockpit shook violently, turbulence throwing her aircraft around like a ragdoll.

The deafening rain hammered against her canopy, visibility dropping to near-zero.

She switched to her LRAAM missiles—her only hope at a long-range strike.

Then—

A lock.

A tone.

"Fox Three!"

Two LRAAM missiles launched.

Furina yanked the stick, breaking hard right.

Then—

A massive explosion erupted behind her.

A deep blue hue illuminated the storm clouds.

The shockwave rattled her Rafale, but she held control.

As she broke out of the storm, AWACS Visionaire confirmed the kill.

"Splash One, Furina! Two minutes remain!"

Furina snapped.

"STOP WITH THE COUNTDOWN! I GOT THIS!"

As Furina raced after the final SSTO, her squadron chimed in over the radio.

Raiden was first.

"Holy shit! Did you see that explosion?!"

Clorinde followed.

"Yeah… Same hue as when we destroyed those tankers in a blizzard back in my old squadron."

Wriothesley snapped his fingers.

"That's it! Rocket fuel!"

Furina ignored the chatter, pushing her fighter through another cloud.

Then—she broke through.

Her HUD flickered—

A lock.

A tone.

"Fox Three!"

Two LRAAM missiles streaked away.

She pulled hard right, bracing herself.

Then—

A final explosion tore through the sky.

The deep blue hue erupted once more, fire and smoke twisting through the clouds.

AWACS Visionaire finalized the kill.

"That's the last! I wish this thing had windows so I could see that explosion!"

"Nice work, team!"

Furina sighed, exhaling deeply.

"Nice… And sorry for yelling at you, Visionaire."

Visionaire chuckled.

"Don't worry, Furina. I'm used to it! We're cool."

A Bitter Goodbye – The Aftermath

Albedo's voice returned, but this time, it was relaxed.

"We'll find a boat and get out of here while we still can."

"We'll bring along the refugees and the defected Snezhnayan soldiers too."

"Take care, everyone. We'll find a way to communicate with you all."

As Waltz and Primordial Squadron regrouped, they formed a loose formation.

They were headed home.

But Furina's mind wasn't at ease.

She sighed, speaking into the radio.

"With that done… What now?"

Jean shook her head.

"I don't know, Furina. But we're running low on fuel and food at the base."

Silence.

As the two squadrons flew north, leaving Zephyr's Island behind, only one thought remained—

What the hell comes next?

The Weight of War – A Silent Airbase

An Hour later...

Dymny Kordon Air Force Base stood in silence.

The once-bustling mess hall was now a graveyard of exhaustion.

Scattered trays. Half-eaten rations. Stale air.

The pilots sat motionless, staring at their plates, their minds drifting in a fog of fatigue and uncertainty.

Furina leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, sighing.

"How much longer…?"

Jean shook her head, her voice heavy.

"I don't know… But it doesn't change the fact we're running out of supplies."

"Worse still… Zephyr's Island is in complete anarchy now. It's lost."

"And this base? This base isn't safe either."

Silence.

The words hung in the air like a noose.

Wriothesley broke the silence, raising a finger.

"How about the nearby town? Maybe they have supplies, right?"

Raiden immediately shook her head.

"We already took everything we could when the other forces arrived for the battle of Morepesok."

Another dead end.

Jean exhaled sharply, looking around the room.

She studied the faces of her squadron.

Tired. Hungry. Worn down by the weight of battle.

"Take a good look at each and every one of you now."

"They're the only friends you've got left."

"At least until we find a way to reestablish communication."

No one spoke.

The tension was suffocating.

Their fuel tanks were low.

Their food supplies were dwindling.

Their radio lines were dead.

And outside these walls, the war raged on.

How much longer would it last?

And more importantly—

Would they even make it to the end?