Celeste Air Force
Less than one hour ago, the scramble order had been sent to the Celeste Sky Forces.
Now, the rapid reaction units from the border sky base were rushing through the clouds, mana-engines, wings, and magic all pushed to their limits.
Dozens of Celeste sky ships filled the air, accompanied by squadrons of griffins and divine wyverns. They flew at maximum speed, cutting straight toward the outer ocean.
They were going to rescue their priestess.
The Celeste sky ships were literal ships—wooden hulls, masts, rudders, and rigging, exactly like something meant for the sea.
And yet they flew.
No wings.
No balloons.
No visible floating devices.
Nothing that would make sense to anyone from Earth.
The only thing that did make sense was the cannon doors beneath their bellies, already open, ready to bombard anything beneath them if needed.
On the open deck of the lead ship, the commander of the reaction forces sat at a table. Wine bottles and glasses were set neatly in front of him, rattling with the ship’s speed.
But he was too agitated to enjoy any of it.
“Sir, we will arrive in a few minutes,” one of the officers reported.
“Keep it at maximum speed!” the commander barked. “We cannot lose Priestess Gabrielle!”
“Aye, sir!”
The commander closed his eyes and clasped his hands, praying.
“O Holy Goddess,” he whispered, “please protect the priestess from evil. Please give this flock haste to help their shepherd, ple—”
TING TING TING TING TING
The lookout alarm suddenly rang out, sharp and urgent.
“I SEE HER! I SEE THE PRIESTESS!” the lookout shouted. “S-SHE’S FLYING!”
Everyone rushed forward.
The commander shot up so fast that his chair fell backward onto the deck.
“What do you mean she’s flying?!” he muttered.
Then they saw what was coming toward them.
And the entire deck froze.
Ahead of them, flying alone through the sky, was Priestess Gabrielle.
White wings spread wide behind her.
A glowing halo hovered above her head.
Priestess Gabrielle—the beloved spokesperson of the church, the kind and beautiful face adored by every citizen of the Celeste Kingdom—was flying.
Not in a sky ship.
Not on a beast.
But by herself.
“An angel…” the commander whispered, then shouted, voice breaking, “S-SHE’S BECOMING AN ANGEL! THE GODDESS HAS GIVEN HER DIVINE POWER TO SAVE HER!”
“HURRAAAAAY!”
The sky fleet erupted.
Some cheered in awe.
Some prayed.
Some cried openly.
They could not hold back their emotions as they witnessed their priestess ascend into a holy being.
From this distance, they could not see the bruises covering her body.
They could not see the blood.
They only saw the wings.
They only saw the light.
---
“AAAAHAHAHA!”
Gabrielle’s laughter rang through the sky as she dashed forward, wings beating violently.
“There you are, my beautiful flock!”
She pushed herself harder, faster, every stroke of her wings burning what little mana she had left.
“Pant… pant…”
“You are all here to rescue me…”
Her breath came ragged now, chest heaving, vision starting to blur—but she forced herself onward, straight toward the floating fleet.
“That’s right,” she muttered, voice trembling with relief and pride, “cover me with your strength and numbers!”
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She flew closer.
Closer.
Until she could see faces.
The crews on the sky ships.
The griffin riders.
The divine wyvern knights.
All staring at her.
“Ah… yes,” Gabrielle whispered, a crooked smile forming. “It’s alright. This time, you are allowed to witness my true holy presence, my dear flock.”
She spread her wings wider.
“Feast your eyes upon this beautiful angel—”
Then she stopped.
The faces weren’t filled with awe.
They weren’t filled with worship.
They were filled with fear.
“Huh?” Gabrielle muttered. “Why are they all looking at me like that?”
WHOOOSH
The familiar and terrifying sound came from behind her.
Her archangel senses screamed—but dulled, sluggish, delayed by exhaustion.
Too late.
She turned her head.
Twelve.
Twelve Murican missiles were already closing in.
Her face went pale in a single heartbeat.
“Oh, fuck me—”
The explosions detonated just a hundred meters in front of the Celeste fleet.
What had been an angelic figure, glowing like scripture made flesh, turned into fireballs midair.
The shockwave tore forward—heat, pressure, blood, and body parts blasting across the sky.
SPLAAAATT
Gabrielle’s blood sprayed in every direction.
Sky ship decks were painted red.
On the lead ship, the Celeste commander stood frozen.
His face was now also red.
And wet.
He shuddered violently.
Then something flew toward him.
THUD! CLATTER!
It landed perfectly on his table, knocking over the wine bottle and glasses.
He stared.
It was a hand.
A severed female hand.
By some cruel coincidence, a wine glass had fallen on top of it, positioned perfectly—as if the hand were holding it.
The commander’s shuddering turned into convulsing.
“P–PRIESTESS GABRIELLEEEE!!” he screamed, voice breaking, “NOOOOOOOOO!!”
---
F-22 Raptor, Crown Leader
“Crown units, be advised,” Watchtower’s calm voice came through the comms, “tango has been eliminated. Good job.”
“YEEAAAH!”
“ALRIGHT!”
Cheers and applause exploded across the channel, overlapping, distorted, messy.
Inside his cockpit, Crown Leader opened his oxygen mask slightly and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
“Heh… copy that, Watchtower,” he said with a grin. “Crown Flight is RTB.”
“Alright, guys,” he continued, “tonight we go to the Red Circle. First round is on Crown Five.”
“WHAT?!” Crown Five immediately protested. “CROWN LEADER, WHY ME?!”
Crown Leader chuckled. “And the rest of the rounds are on me.”
“WHOOOOOO!”
The comm channel erupted again.
“Watchtower,” Crown Leader added, “you guys are also welcome to join us.”
“Oh fuck you, Crown Leader,” the AWACS crew replied instantly. “You only said that because you know we’re from a different base.”
“Yes,” Crown Leader replied easily. “I did.”
WHOOOOOSSH
Five Raptors cut across the sky, flying toward the horizon—toward the sunset.
Toward home.
---
Bashington DC, Pentagon
Cheers and applause also erupted in the Pentagon command room.
Stan stood at the center, already holding his customary after-fight whiskey and cigar like sacred artifacts.
On the screen, General Fujin and General Hanz appeared through video conference, both looking just as pleased.
“My trusted generals,” Stan declared, raising his glass, “in this modern age, we may not be physically present anymore to deliver the killing blow to our enemies.”
He lifted the whiskey higher.
“But tell me if I’m wrong,” he continued, grinning wildly, “who the fuck wants to go back there when we’re here kicking holy asses hard?!”
On the screen, Fujin and Hanz raised their own glasses, demonic grins spreading across their faces.
“Not me, sir,” Fujin replied.
“And not me either,” Hanz added.
Stan’s grin widened into something feral.
“HAH! Nothing beats the present!” he declared.
“Nothing beats the present!” Fujin and Hanz echoed.
Then they all downed their drinks in one gulp.
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Grand Fortress
Levi stood before the mana-comm installed at the center of the Grand Council Hall, speaking calmly to the projection of Hannya.
“Yes, sir. The news is also currently being delivered to Ambassador Mara through the radio,” Hannya reported.
“Very well, Hannya. Thank you for delivering the good news,” Levi said with a smile. “I will be back home soon. I hope you don’t mind me taking my old position back?”
“Not at all, sir,” Hannya sighed. “Apparently, I don’t have the shamelessness required to do the job as well as you do. Hannya out.”
The transmission ended.
Levi smiled faintly and shrugged.
“Hm… I still can’t tell if she’s insulting me or praising me. Oh well.”
He turned around.
Behind him stood the full members of the Dwargonia Grand Council, gathered in silence.
“Well, as you can see, honourable council members,” Levi declared, spreading his hands wide, “the priestess has been successfully removed.”
Dwordoug, Tubrat Silverfist, and Orroth Sandbeards all let out relieved sighs upon hearing the news.
The male council members began shaking hands with Levi and each other with proper civility, nodding in mutual respect.
However, at the other corner of the hall, civility had completely collapsed.
“OH FINALLY! EAT SHIT, YOU DAMNED HOLY SLUT!” Nelfilyn Bluespire screamed toward the ceiling. “MY STUPID HUSBAND WILL BE WAITING THERE TO KICK YOUR DIVINE ASS IN THE AFTERLIFE!”
“YOU LOVE LOOKING DOWN ON ME, HAH?!” Calgirra Oakenbrew—now fully freed from Gabrielle’s enchantment—joined in, screaming upward as well. “HOW DO YOU LIKE THE VIEW FROM UP THERE NOW, BITCH?! UP IN FUCKING HEAVEN?! IN PIECES! HAHAHAHA!”
Levi rubbed his chin, watching the spectacle.
“Well, well… I never guessed that Council Member Calgirra and Nelfilyn were just as spirited as your wife,” he commented.
“Oh, not only them, Minister,” Dwordoug replied gravely. “Female dwarves are always far scarier than the male ones.”
“Indeed,” Tubrat and Orroth added in unison.
The three wise dwarf leaders nodded solemnly while stroking their beards.
Levi merely tilted his head.
---
Bashington DC, The Black House
Solo stood by the window, a celebratory beer in hand, gazing at the afternoon sky with a wide grin.
“Muha… muhahaha…” he began.
“MUAHAHAHAHA!”
His evil laughter echoed through the room.
Suddenly, a voice chimed in from the laptop on the table behind him.
“Sir,” Janet’s voice reported, “if we compare with the church holy scriptures, Priestess Gabrielle’s true form is what they classify as an Archangel.”
“Heh… even better,” Solo muttered. “MUAHAHAHA!”
“Also, sir,” Mo’s voice joined in, “requesting green light to proceed with the follow-up operations in Meridinia.”
“Heh. Granted,” Solo replied without hesitation.
“Very well, sir,” Mo said. “I shall release the orders.”
“Oh yeah, Mo?” Solo added, turning slightly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Good job,” Solo said with a smile, looking at the laptop. “Every single one of you. Good job.”
“…heh, much appreciated, sir,” Mo replied, letting out a small chuckle.
The transmission ended.
Solo turned back toward the sky, taking another sip of his beer.
“Not only did we defeat your people’s plans,” he said quietly, “we even fucked one of your archangels. How do you like that, bitch?”
“MUAHAHAHAHA!”
He finished his beer, exhaling deeply.
“Haaah… now where’s Lilith?”
He turned away from the window and walked cheerfully toward the door, muttering to himself.
“Sex is always best after a lovers quarrel and a war victory…”
“Oh, Lilith hone~y, where are you” He said sweetly as he opened his office door.
