Central Airship, Bridge

  “AIM THE CANNONS!” the airship captain roared.

  “Aye, sir!” an officer shouted back.

  Whiiiiirrrrr—

  Gears turned. The massive cannons slowly adjusted their angles, creaking as they tracked the hovering gray shapes ahead.

  For one perfect second, everything aligned.

  And then—

  The F-22 Raptors moved.

  One second ago, they were hovering.

  The next second, they were breaking formation.

  By the third second, they were already moving at Mach 1.5.

  And by the fourth—

  They were gone.

  Again.

  “WHAT THE HELL?!” the captain roared. “HOW CAN THEY MOVE THAT FAST?!”

  No one answered.

  Because no one could see anything.

  Every crew member spun in place, scanning the sky, staring at empty clouds, empty air, empty nothing.

  They had the distinct feeling of being naked.

  The airspace no longer felt like sky.

  It felt like the ocean surface.

  And their massive, airship—so proud, so powerful a moment ago—now felt like a wooden raft.

  And somewhere beneath the waves—

  Sharks.

  Lurking.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Cold.

  Calculating.

  Efficient.

  Predators that didn’t need to rush. Savoring the moment.

  ---

  F-22 Raptor Flight, Callsign “Crown”

  Though, not all the predators felt the same way like the prey thought they did.

  Above the clouds, hidden by altitude and arrogance, five F-22 Raptors cruised calmly, invisible to the world below.

  Inside the lead aircraft, the pilot checked his radar, watching the glowing blips of the Goldenclaws airships cluster nervously together.

  “Crown Five,” the leader muttered, “give them another near-pass.”

  A beat of silence.

  “Crown Leader,” Crown Five replied, “why am I always the one doing the dangerous pass again?”

  The leader turned his head slightly, glancing at the Raptor beside him. Through the canopy, Crown Five’s pilot was visibly staring back.

  “Because I’m the team leader,” Crown Leader replied casually.

  “Crown Two and Three are wingmen. Four is element lead. And Five—”

  he paused, smiling,

  “—you are the wildcard.”

  A pause.

  “So in short,” he finished, “pecking order.”

  “You do realize I have to pay the bill if I break something on this plane, right?” Crown Five said dryly.

  “Once again: pecking order,” the leader replied flatly.

  “Now stop thinking and go wild, wildcard.”

  Crown Five then muttered an inaudible angry grumbling over comms.

  His jet rolled, banking sharply as he peeled away from formation, nose dipping toward the cloud cover below.

  As he accelerated, the squadron insignia flashed briefly on his helmet:

  A winged red demonic crown, spread wide.

  Below it, written in dead Latin, the squadron motto:

  Intactus Maneo

  Quia Pretiosus Sum

  I remain untouched, because I am expensive.

  ---

  Dawn Airbase, Air Operation Center (AOC)

  Inside the Air Operation Center, the main monitor was filled with live satellite feeds, radar overlays, and multiple camera angles of the sky above the ocean.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  At the center of it all stood General Fujin, hands behind his back, eyes glued to the screen.

  Next to him stood General Hanz, also watching. Mostly because he’s practically posted on the neighbouring base and there was absolutely nothing else for him to do.

  “HAHAHAHA… good, good,” Fujin muttered, watching a Raptor blur through the Goldenclaws formation again. “They don’t even have time to adjust their cannons.”

  Hanz rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This is their first hunting mission, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” Fujin replied. “Brand new addition. Just before the Reapers.”

  “Expensive?” Hanz asked casually.

  Fujin winced. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. That’s why I only have sixteen of them.”

  An Air Force officer rushed up. “Sir! Our satellite just picked up Celeste air forces taking off. They’re heading to the area to provide assistance.”

  “Well, alrighty then,” Fujin grinned. “Tell Crown Flight they can proceed to Phase Two.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Fujin leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming as he watched the screen.

  “Now let’s see,” he said softly, “what those Seven Virtues can do.”

  ---

  Central Airship, Bridge

  Chaos still ruled the bridge.

  Crew members spun in place, scanning clouds, sky, and horizon with the desperation of prey that knew the predator was near—but couldn’t see where.

  The two escort airships held position, covering the left and right flanks like trembling shields.

  “Priestess!” the comm officer called out. “Celeste air forces are on their way to assist us!”

  “Good,” Gabrielle said, though her face betrayed no relief. “My air force will punish those demons.”

  Then—

  “H-Hey, look!” someone screamed. “THEY’RE COMING AGAIN!”

  Gabrielle and the captain snapped their heads forward.

  Another gray aircraft slid down from the clouds, angling toward them.

  But this time—

  Something changed.

  The belly of the aircraft opened.

  For a split second, something fell out.

  Then the aircraft was gone again, vanishing back into the clouds like a mocking ghost.

  But the thing it released remained.

  Burning.

  Screaming.

  Trailing smoke.

  And coming toward them very, very fast.

  “INCOMING!!!” the captain roared.

  KABOOOOOOOOM!

  The escort airship on their right exploded into a massive fireball.

  The shockwave slammed into their own bridge, shattering windows, sending glass and debris flying. Heat washed over them like a furnace door thrown open.

  Everyone ducked by reflex—including the captain and the priestess.

  CRRRREEEAAAKK—

  When they looked up again, the escort airship no longer had a bridge.

  Only fire.

  Its hull twisted and screamed as metal bent, the massive ship listing uncontrollably before veering off toward the ocean.

  “T-they have that kind of firepower?!” the captain whispered, shaking.

  FWOOOOOOOOSH—BOOOOM

  Another Raptor passed overhead, leaving only thunder and that strange, mocking boom behind.

  As if it wanted to remind them who just destroyed the airship.

  “P-PORT SIDE! PORT SIDE!” someone screamed.

  Another aircraft descended from the clouds, stopping at their altitude.

  Perfect angle.

  Perfect shot.

  Its belly opened.

  Another flying spear dropped.

  Then it vanished again.

  “ANOTHER ONE COMING!!”

  KABOOOOOOOOM!

  The left escort airship disappeared in a blinding flash.

  Bridge gone. Fire everywhere. Another screaming descent toward oblivion.

  Silence fell.

  Now there was only one airship left.

  Theirs.

  “DROP ALTITUDE!” the captain shouted. “WE’RE GOING TO HUG THE OCEAN SURFACE!”

  “A-AYE, CAPTAIN!”

  The massive airship tilted downward, engines screaming as it began its descent.

  “What’s your plan?!” Gabrielle demanded, gripping the rail.

  “Not much, Priestess,” the captain replied grimly. “If we fly low, they won’t get a clear line of fire to the bridge. And if we have to—”

  he swallowed,

  “—we jump.”

  “You expect me to swim in the ocean?!” Gabrielle snapped.

  “What other choice do we have?!” the captain snapped back.

  ---

  F-22 Raptor, Crown Leader

  “They’re going to hug the ocean,” the Crown Leader muttered, watching the airship angle downward on his HUD.

  A slow, desperate dive.

  Like a wounded animal trying to hide in tall grass.

  “Crown 5,” he said calmly, “go finish that airship.”

  “Oh thank goodness, finally I can blow something up,” Crown 5 replied excitedly.

  The Crown Leader watched as Crown 5’s Raptor peeled off formation and dove.

  “Rifle. Rifle. Rifle.”

  Three words. Flat. Clean. Final.

  A missile dropped from Crown 5’s belly, igniting as it streaked toward the descending airship.

  “Moment of truth…” the Crown Leader whispered.

  KABOOOOOOOOMMM

  Whatever plan the airship had didn’t matter.

  They were painfully, tragically slow.

  The only reason they had survived this long was because the Murican Raptors had allowed them to.

  Now the last airship burned just like the other two—its hull splitting, fire pouring out, the massive structure falling toward the ocean in a slow, doomed spiral.

  But the radio stayed quiet.

  No cheers. No laughter. No celebration.

  Everyone was waiting.

  Because the briefing had told them something might happen.

  And then—

  KABOOOOOOOOM

  A second explosion tore through the airship.

  Not from a missile.

  From inside.

  The blast split the hull clean in half, like an egg cracked open.

  From the broken center, something emerged.

  A blue sphere.

  Glowing.

  Crackling.

  Hovering.

  The burning halves of the airship continued falling toward the ocean, trailing fire and debris, while the sphere remained perfectly still in the air—calm, defiant, wrong.

  “And so…” the Crown Leader murmured, eyes narrowing, “it appears.”

  ---

  Bashington DC, The Black House

  The image of the hovering blue sphere was relayed live to Murica soil.

  In his office, Solo stared at his laptop screen, watching the sphere glow and pulse, surrounded by falling debris and burning wreckage above the ocean.

  From the conference speaker, Stan’s voice came through. “Is that it, Mo?”

  “Yes,” Mo replied quietly through the video feed. “Seven Virtues. The Goddess incarnates on Talvaris.”

  Solo’s expression hardened.

  Anger crept in slowly, like poison spreading through his veins.

  After 130 years, he finally saw it again.

  The same shape.

  The same presence.

  The shapes that surrounded Goddess Celes as he ran for his life through the goddess realm itself.

  “An angel,” Solo growled. And for just a moment, his angry orc voice leaked through.

  ---

  Outer Wesroth Ocean

  The ocean surface was choked with burning debris from the shattered airship.

  Flaming metal hissed as it hit the water, steam rising in violent clouds. Pieces of hull drifted, sank, or burned, turning the sea into a graveyard of fire and steel.

  Above it all, the blue sphere hovered.

  Glowing.

  Humming.

  Crackling.

  PLAAAAASHH

  Then suddenly the sphere shattered.

  Light exploded outward, and from it unfurled a pair of massive white wings, spreading wide and commanding the sky.

  Between those wings stood a familiar figure.

  Priestess Gabrielle.

  A golden halo burned above her head, radiant and absolute.

  Her white priestess robes were shredded, torn by fire and force. Bruises marked her skin. Blood ran down her forehead, dripping from her brow.

  She reached up, touched the blood, then stared at the red smear on her fingers.

  For a moment, she looked almost confused.

  Then she laughed.

  Once.

  A broken, breathless sound that had no place in a priestess’s mouth.

  Her expression twisted.

  Fury replaced shock.

  Divine composure cracked like glass.

  And then, the holy presence screamed with all her might.

  “YOU MOTHERFUCKING BIIIIIIIIIIITCH!!!”