Wings of the Stars

Two Weeks Later

Time was running out.

The Dymny Kordon Air Force Base, once a stronghold of resistance, now felt more like a graveyard. The silence was deafening. The empty food crates, the dwindling medical supplies, and the bitter taste of rationed water all served as a constant reminder—if they didn't act soon, they wouldn't just be stranded. They'd be dead.

Their aircraft sat in the hangars, fueled to the very last drop. Every plane was armed with whatever weapons remained, but there wasn't much left. A few missiles, limited rounds of ammunition. Enough for a single decisive strike—but after that? There would be nothing.

The tension in the base had reached an all-time high, and it suffocated everyone inside the Briefing Room.

Furina and Jean stood at the front, eyes locked on the map spread across the stage. The flickering lights overhead buzzed softly, a quiet but maddening reminder of their deteriorating situation. Every pilot, every soldier in the room knew it—this meeting wasn't just another strategy session. It was life or death.

Furina exhaled sharply, rubbing her forehead before turning to the room.

"We need to find supplies." Her voice was firm, though the exhaustion in her eyes was clear. "Fuel, food, ammo. Whatever we can get our hands on."

Her fingers traced over the map before she continued.

"Even if it means raiding a Snezhnayan stockpiling base."

A heavy silence followed her words.

Jean's head snapped up. "No, Furina." Her voice was low but forceful. "We can't do that."

Furina clenched her jaw. "Jean, we don't have a choice. It's do or die at this point."

Jean crossed her arms. "That's a war crime, Furina! We can't just attack a supply base!"

Furina threw her hands up in frustration. "Jean, we have nothing left! You think I want to do this? You think I want to steal? But look around! We're hanging by a thread. Who the hell knows how many abandoned air force bases we can even land on at this point? It's a gamble, and we can't afford to lose."

Jean sighed, running a hand through her hair. She didn't want to admit it, but Furina was right.

"Fine." Jean's voice was softer now. "Where?"

Furina tapped a point on the map, just twenty minutes south.

"Crimson Moon Castle."

A murmur spread through the room.

"That old place?" Wriothesley raised an eyebrow.

Furina nodded. "I saw it two weeks ago when we flew past it on our way back here. It's been turned into a stockpiling base. Tents everywhere, supply crates, fuel tanks. Most likely occupied by Snezhnayan forces."

She exhaled. "It's our best shot."

Jean studied the map, nodding slowly. "That's a long stretch of freeway nearby. If they're using it as a makeshift runway, we might run into enemy aircraft."

Furina nodded. "We will."

Jean looked up. "And we have the weapons?"

"Our last set has been loaded onto the planes," Furina confirmed. "But we can't send all our aircraft. We need some of us on the ground to transport the supplies once we secure them."

Jean folded her arms. "So who's going?"

Furina didn't hesitate.

"Waltz Squadron will handle the air battle. Primordial Squadron will go in and steal the supplies."

Eula leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Well, at least we only have to deal with enemy planes. That's one less headache."

Ningguang adjusted her gloves, nodding. "Agreed. And if we do run into ground vehicles, they won't last long against us."

Collei sighed. "We don't have a choice, do we? It's either this or we starve."

Wriothesley cracked his knuckles. "The Snezhnayans committed war crimes against their own people. Time to show them how it feels to be on the receiving end."

Furina snapped her head toward him, her voice sharp. "No. That is not what we're doing. We are not lowering ourselves to their level. We hit only what we need. Nothing more. Do I make myself clear?"

Wriothesley hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. I know. I just…" He sighed. "Forget it."

Furina took a deep breath. "Good. Because the second we start killing just to kill, we're no better than them."

She looked around the room, locking eyes with each and every one of them. "This mission is simple. Waltz Squadron, we go in first, clear the skies and the route. Primordial Squadron, you get in, grab what we need, and get the hell out. Fast. We won't have time to waste."

She stepped back, eyes flicking between her pilots. "Everyone understand?"

A chorus of nods.

"Then let's move."

Chairs scraped against the floor as the squadron members stood up, the sound echoing through the tense room.

Eula, Wriothesley, Clorinde, and Collei grabbed their helmets and strode toward the door, their footsteps heavy against the concrete.

Jean remained behind for a moment, glancing at Furina.

"Furina…"

Furina turned, already knowing what Jean was about to say. "Yeah?"

Jean exhaled, nodding slightly. "I'm with you. We're on our own now. No reinforcements, no backup… just us."

Furina sighed, gripping her helmet. "I know, Jean. I know…"

Without another word, the two turned toward the hangar.

Outside, their planes waited in the dim light of dawn, fueled and armed for what could very well be their last mission.

Over the Apron

The two squadrons moved with precision, each team splitting off into their designated roles.

Primordial Squadron headed toward the parked supply trucks near the left side of the main building. Their mission was simple—get in, steal what they needed, and get the hell out before the Snezhnayans had time to react.

Waltz Squadron, meanwhile, made their way to the hangars on the right. Their job? Air superiority. Keep the skies clear so the convoy could escape without interference.

The morning air was crisp, but there was no time to appreciate it.

Furina approached her Rafale M, its sleek, body gleaming under the dim pre-dawn light. The other pilots were already by their planes, making final checks.

Sliding into the ejector seat, Furina grabbed the harness and pulled it over her shoulders, buckling it across her chest. The click of the lock mechanism was reassuring. She gave the straps a firm tug, adjusting them to ensure a snug fit.

She reached to her side, lifting her helmet and slipping it over her head in a practiced motion. The familiar scent of sweat, rubber, and synthetic padding filled her nose. With a quick adjustment, she secured the oxygen mask over her face—the hiss of the seal locking in place was a comforting sound.

She leaned forward, tapping the left multi-function display (MFD) to bring up her flight plan.

Two waypoints.

Dymny Kordon Air Force Base – Home.

Crimson Moon Castle – The target.

She exhaled through her nose, her breath briefly fogging up the edge of her visor. This was it.

Reaching up, she hit the canopy switch. A hydraulic whirr filled the cockpit as the reinforced glass slid into place, sealing her away from the outside world.

She reached down, retracted the built-in ladder, and locked it into place.

Now for the startup sequence.

Furina flipped the main electrical switch from STBY to RIGHT.

Immediately, the aircraft hummed to life. The right-side Snecma M88-2 engine began spooling up—a low whine that quickly grew into a deep mechanical howl.

She glanced at the N2 gauge.

10%... 15%... 20%... 25%...

She reached over, pushing the right engine management lever from STOP to IDLE.

Fuel flow initiated.

A brief pause.

Then—ignition.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the cockpit as the turbine stabilized at idle thrust. The EGT (Exhaust Gas Temperature) climbed, then settled.

One down. One to go.

Furina repeated the process, switching from RIGHT to LEFT.

Seconds later, the second M88-2 engine roared to life, stabilizing in perfect sync with the first.

Both engines—nominal.

Everything was ready.

Furina flipped on her radio.

"Waltz Squadron, is everyone ready?"

The replies came through in quick succession.

"Waltz Two, ready." (Clorinde)

"Waltz Three, ready." (Wriothesley)

"Waltz Four, ready." (Eula)

"Waltz Five, ready." (Collei)

Furina nodded, gripping the control stick.

"Waltz Squadron—sortie."

She disengaged the parking brake, the aircraft giving a slight lurch forward as she slowly taxied out of the hangar, making a left turn onto the main taxiway.

Behind her, one by one, the other jets followed.

Clorinde and Wriothesley's Rafale M.

Eula's F-15E Strike Eagle.

Collei's Rafale M.

As Furina lined up on the runway, she didn't hesitate.

A rolling takeoff.

She slammed the throttle forward, feeling the powerful jolt as both engines screamed to life in full afterburner. The aircraft surged down the runway, flames trailing from the exhaust nozzles.

Seconds later—liftoff.

The gear retracted smoothly as she pulled up into the sky, leaving the airbase behind.

The rest of the squadron followed suit, launching one by one.

At the same time, on the ground, the convoy of supply trucks rumbled out of the base, heading straight for Crimson Moon Castle.

There was no turning back now.

And it didn't take long to get there, either.

20 Minutes Southeast—Crimson Moon Castle

The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the battlefield in a surreal glow as Waltz Squadron arrived, cutting through the sky in a tight V formation. Furina took point, leading her squadron straight toward Crimson Moon Castle, their HUDs flickering with red markers.

Unknowns.

But at this point, they all knew—every single one of them was the enemy.

The radio crackled, and AWACS Visionaire came through.

"No Teyvat forces ahead. All Snezhnayans."

"And no need to identify them..."

Furina's IFF system flickered.

The HUD updated.

All unknowns turned hostile.

Then, a voice cut through the enemy radio frequency—tense, static-laced.

"Unidentified aircraft. Identify."

A brief pause.

"Doesn't matter. Fire anyway."

Furina scoffed, her grip tightening around the control stick.

"What the fuck is the point of identifying us if they're gonna fire anyway?!"

She flicked her targeting reticle over an AA site, deciding to save her missiles.

Instead, she switched to guns.

The M791 30mm cannon roared to life, the heavy thunk-thunk-thunk of rounds slicing through the air. The AA site exploded in a fiery burst just as she zipped past.

Then, Wriothesley's voice cut through the comms.

"So, just to confirm—capture the castle, take their supplies and fuel, and then bail? Right, Furina?"

Furina nodded, eyes locked on the battlefield below.

"Exactly."

Eula's voice came next, more subdued.

"You take things if you want to live. That's how it was when I grew up."

Wriothesley sighed.

"I was double-checking orders, Eula."

Another AA site locked onto Furina's screen.

She squeezed the trigger.

The M791 cannons barked once more.

Another explosion.

Then, through the thin wisps of smoke—Crimson Moon Castle.

A fortress of stone and steel, surrounded by makeshift tents, weapons stockpiles, and vehicles. Searchlights were already flicking on, scanning the skies for the attackers.

Furina switched to precision bombs.

She pulled back, climbing high for a diving attack.

"Waltz Two, Three, Four, and Five—take out the surrounding targets. The castle is mine."

The acknowledgments came swiftly.

"Wilco." (Clorinde)

"Roger." (Wriothesley)

"Wilco." (Eula)

"Wilco." (Collei)

Furina rolled her Rafale into a sharp dive, lining up her targeting reticle over the castle's main structure.

TONE.

LOCK.

"Bombs away!"

Two precision bombs detached from her hardpoints, tumbling down toward the target.

Furina yanked the stick back, climbing hard as the shockwave from the explosion rattled her aircraft.

The enemy radio crackled again.

"Does Hearth Squadron know?"

"They're prepping to sortie now."

Eula sighed.

"This feels like burglary."

Furina clenched her jaw.

"I know. But we have to proceed."

"I know..."

Furina swung around for another pass, dropping another bomb straight into the castle's inner courtyard.

Another direct hit.

Meanwhile, below, Waltz Two, Three, Four, and Five tore apart the defenses.

SAM sites—gone.

Tents—obliterated.

Anti-air weapons—reduced to twisted metal.

The enemy radio crackled with desperation.

"The anti-air weapons are out! We can't fight back!"

"It's the plane with the golden crown..."

"Let her take our lives... As long as our nation stands, the young can carry on..."

Then—right on cue.

A new transmission came through.

"Hearth Two, Three, and Four are airborne. Ready to defend."

AWACS Visionaire chimed in.

"Three bogeys—Su-57s."

Furina smirked.

"Engage."

She slammed her throttles forward, afterburners roaring as she locked onto the first Su-57.

The enemy radio crackled again.

"This is Hearth Squadron. You are in violation of Crimson Moon airspace. Turn around and leave."

Furina laughed bitterly.

"And yet you're already firing on us!"

Unlike the Knave, these pilots weren't as skilled.

As Furina chased down the first Su-57, AWACS Visionaire broadcasted on open frequency.

"This is the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group. Surrender and hand over your fuel, supplies, and weapons."

A voice—Hearth Two—came through, dripping with disdain.

"Oh, so you're the Crownbirds. Absurd for you to show up here after Morepesok."

Furina got a lock on the first Su-57.

TONE.

LOCK.

"Fox Two!"

A Sidewinder missile streaked away.

Direct hit.

The enemy radio crackled.

"Hearth Three, I'm spiked! Ejecting!"

The sharp hiss of an ejection seat.

Then—static.

Right then—Furina's RWR screeched.

She was locked on.

A Su-57 was behind her.

Missile launch.

She reacted instantly.

Furina slammed her throttles idle and yanked the stick back, simultaneously kicking the rudder hard left.

The Rafale pitched up into a near-vertical Cobra maneuver, its nose almost breaking physics as she yanked into a 360-degree yaw.

A Pugachev's Cobra.

The Su-57 overshot below her.

Furina immediately regained control, rolling back onto the offensive.

TONE.

LOCK.

"Fox Two!"

Two Sidewinder missiles streaked forward.

Another direct hit.

The enemy radio crackled once more.

"Hearth Four, I'm hit! Ejec—"

Then—silence.

But the pilot had managed to eject.

A Sky of Fire and Fate

Then—another voice. Female. Cold. Calculated.

"Huh. Looks like you showed up… Captain Furina de Fontaine."

Furina's eyes narrowed, her HUD flickering as a new enemy marked itself in blood-red.

Arlecchino Snezhevna.

And her aircraft—an Su-75 Checkmate.

Furina snapped her stick hard to the right, banking away just as a projectile tore past her left wing.

"What the hell was that!?"

Arlecchino's voice crackled over the comms, laced with amusement.

"Alright, Furina. Let's dance."

A dogfight between two of Teyvat's deadliest aces had begun.

Furina maneuvered quickly, slipping behind Arlecchino's tail, her targeting reticle snapping into place.

But Arlecchino was fast. Too fast. She weaved left and right, twisting through the sky in a rapid serpentine motion. Furina mirrored her perfectly, staying locked on.

Then, without warning, Arlecchino yanked her stick back, sending her Su-75 into a steep vertical climb.

Furina followed.

The G-force slammed against her body—6G… 7G… 8G—her breathing controlled, her focus razor-sharp.

Her HUD flickered—LOCKED.

A sharp, shrill tone filled her ears.

"Fox Two!"

Two Sidewinders streaked toward Arlecchino's fighter, contrails slicing through the darkening sky.

At the last second, the Su-75 snapped into a sharp descent.

One missile missed.

But the second slammed into its rear fuselage.

Yet… the Su-75 kept flying.

Furina scowled. "What the hell is that thing made of!?"

She adjusted her trajectory, pushing her own fighter into a vertical dive to stay in pursuit.

Through the radio, Arlecchino chuckled. "Not bad, Furina… not bad."

On the squadron comms, Wriothesley's voice cut in, disbelief lacing his words.

"Do you see that color on her SU-75!?"

Clorinde's tone was grim. "That's the color of flames from hell."

Eula gritted her teeth. "I can't even get a lock! They're moving too fast!"

Collei's voice was urgent. "Leave it to Furina. We'll just get in the way!"

Furina remained locked in battle, her mind calculating every angle, every movement.

She smirked. "What happened to your SU-57, Arlecchino? Damaged beyond repair?"

Arlecchino gave a low chuckle. "No. I'm experimenting with this aircraft."

Then, her tone sharpened.

"Get your own sky, Furina. This one is mine."

AWACS Visionaire cut in, broadcasting across the channel.

"Arlecchino, surrender and stand down. There's no need to keep fighting alone."

Arlecchino scoffed. "Alone? Then tell me—why is Furina the only one engaging me? Is she alone, too?"

AWACS's response came swift. "Look around you. She's surrounded by her friends and family."

Furina's grip on the stick tightened.

Friends… Family…

But no time to dwell.

She fired two more missiles.

Direct hits.

Yet the Su-75 endured.

Arlecchino's laughter crackled through the radio. "I see."

Then—her voice turned quiet. Reflective.

"Perhaps we should've entrusted the future of warfare to pilots like you… not machines."

Her tone shifted, almost excited. "Let's see how much you can handle, Furina."

Suddenly, Arlecchino executed a Pugachev Cobra.

But Furina was ready.

She yanked her stick down, matching the maneuver perfectly.

The Su-75 overshot.

Now, Furina was in control.

Arlecchino exhaled, half-impressed. "You have skill, Furina. I'll give you that."

Then, her voice hardened.

"Shit… this plane, this weapon—it's not enough to take you down."

They both turned toward the castle below.

Furina saw her opening.

She pressed the trigger.

Her guns roared.

Tracer rounds tore into Arlecchino's fighter, ripping through its engine.

A sputter. Smoke.

Then, fire.

Furina locked on again—her final move.

A shrill tone.

"Fox Two!"

Two Sidewinders launched.

Two direct hits.

The Knave's Su-75 was finished.

AWACS Visionaire's voice exploded across the radio.

"THE KNAVE IS HIT! SHE'S GOING DOWN!"

The squadron erupted into cheers.

"FUCK YEAH! LET'S FUCKING GO!"

"ALRIGHT, FURINA!"

"THE ACE OF TEYVAT!"

"DOWN GOES THE KNAVE!"

But as Furina watched, Arlecchino did something unexpected.

She stabilized the Su-75.

Despite having no engine.

She was gliding.

Then, her voice—quiet, but clear.

"Furina…"

Furina frowned. "What?"

Arlecchino's next words stunned her.

"Take me in."

"Let me join you."

Furina's eyes widened. "What!?"

Arlecchino's voice was different now. Pleading.

"Help me…"

A pause.

"Put an end to the drone production."

Silence.

Then, in the distance—Arlecchino's Su-75 crash-landed.

A billowing cloud of dust and smoke.

Furina's breath caught in her throat.

Clorinde's voice was hushed, uncertain. "It's like… she surrendered."

Wriothesley murmured. "Yeah. It's like… she needs your help, Furina."

Furina's expression hardened, but her eyes were filled with questions.

An Unlikely Alliance

Dymny Kordon Air Force Base – Briefing Room

Hours had passed since the battle in the skies.

Now, inside a dimly lit briefing room, the atmosphere was thick with tension.

They had a prisoner.

Arlecchino Snezhevna.

She had survived the crash.

Now, sitting across from her, Furina de Fontaine—the Ace of Teyvat—stared her down.

The deadliest pilots in the world, face to face.

Furina was the first to break the silence.

"Alright, Arlecchino. Explain yourself. What did you mean—stop the drone production?"

Arlecchino exhaled slowly.

"I never agreed to fly for Imperatora Technologies."

Furina narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Arlecchino leaned forward, regret shadowing her face.

"The Snezhnayan government forced me."

Furina's breath caught in her throat. Forced?

Arlecchino continued, her voice quieter now. "They threatened me with treason of the highest order if I refused to help Imperatora."

Her fists clenched on the table. "My rank. My career. My entire life's work in the Air Force—gone. Just like that."

She looked down. "But now, with the nation in anarchy, torn apart by civil war… I have no choice."

Arlecchino raised her gaze, locking eyes with Furina.

"I need your help."

Furina exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

"And why the hell should we trust you?"

Arlecchino leaned back, tired. "Because they're done gathering my flight data. And they're preparing two drones—experimental models called the ADFX-11."

A silence fell over the room.

Then, Jean spoke up.

"Wait… what about the ADFX-10? We encountered one at Zimogorov."

Arlecchino nodded. "That was just a prototype—a test mule. They used it to refine the ADFX-11 with my flying style data."

Furina's eyes darkened. "How deadly are we talking?"

Arlecchino leaned forward. "Lethal."

"These drones have multiple integrated weapons systems. Two main weapon modules—one built into the body, and a second detachable floating module."

"Both are armed with laser cannons."

Furina's expression hardened. "Go on."

Arlecchino continued, her voice grim.

"Then there's the body. Or rather—bodies.

Furina frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If the main body is damaged," Arlecchino explained, "it will shed its outer shell, dropping a smaller secondary unit hidden inside."

"And that's where it gets terrifying."

"That smaller body will assume the role of 'prey,' deliberately allowing itself to be chased—so it can learn."

"It will analyze the enemy's flight patterns, adapt in real-time, and gather data on how the pilot flies."

Furina's blood ran cold.

"What!?"

Arlecchino nodded.

"Once it's collected enough data, it will send everything up the Orbital Elevator, uploading it to every drone manufacturing facility."

Furina slowly sat back.

Her voice came out in a whisper.

"Holy shit..."

Arlecchino sighed. "That's why I need your help."

"We have to disable the Teyvat Orbital Elevator's communications—before these things spread like wildfire."

Furina clenched her jaw. "We can't. Not while the Sepharis Bird is still flying."

Silence.

Then, Jean stood up.

"I trust you, Arlecchino."

Amber followed.

"I trust you too."

Then, one by one, the others stood.

Arlecchino turned to Furina.

A long pause.

Then Furina sighed.

"You're not lying. Not about this."

Her piercing gaze met Arlecchino's.

A moment of hesitation.

Then—she stood and extended a hand.

Arlecchino slowly stood as well.

For the first time in her life—she reached out, not as an enemy, but as an ally.

Their hands clasped.

Furina nodded firmly.

"We're going to end this war."

"Once and for all."

With Dymny Kordon Air Force Base replenished, the squadron had one week to prepare.

But now—Arlecchino, the Knave, was on their side.

Two of Teyvat's deadliest aces, once enemies, now stood together.

A force unlike anything the world had ever seen.

All they needed now—

Was a sign.