"Hey, who are you?!" Mikado took another step back, his hand floating behind his waist.
The figure began to elongate as it approached.
"H-hey… step back..." Mikado muttered, a bead of sweat dripping from his face.
Its feet still left no sound—silent like an assassin.
"wE nEEd To rUN, mIkadO!?" The creature's voice twisted unnaturally—devilish and warped.
Mikado drew a pistol from his waist, aiming it straight at the creature's head.
"You leave me no choice, prepare to get off-screened." He spoke cooly, his breath escaping his lips.
His breath left his lips slowly as his fingers lingered on the cold steel of the trigger.
The entity's grin stretched wider.
"MikADo—!"
Yoriko ran after the echoes of Mikami's boots deeper into the tunnels.
"Kokuine! Mikami! Slow down!" she called.
Her voice bounced off the stone corridors and came back warped.
Yoriko's boots clanged against the stone ramp. Dust spiralled around her, catching in the faint shafts of light that slanted down from fractured ceilings.
Ahead, Kokuine and Mikami had already slowed. Something pulled at her chest. Something… wrong.
"Wait," she hissed, skidding to a halt. Her hand pressed against her chest as her pulse pounded against her ribs like war drums.
The figure was there. Silver hair. Blue eyes. Uniform dusted with stone. The light caught him just right—he looked… real.
"Mikado!" Her voice cracked, hope bleeding through every syllable. She ran, lungs burning, reaching.
The boy—her boy—turned. Head tilted slightly, eyes glinting in the half-light.
"Oh… Yoriko," he said.
Her chest unclenched, relief surged. She lunged forward.
But then—freeze.
Something in the stance.
Something in the stillness.
Her stomach dropped. Her heart stopped a fraction of a second before it kicked back.
No nervous scratch behind the neck. No small laugh at seeing her. No quick step forward. Just… calm. Too calm.
"…Mikado?" Her voice dropped, barely audible, a whisper lost in the echoing corridors.
Kokuine stopped, cocking his head. "What is it?"
Yoriko didn't take her eyes off him. Every instinct screamed. Every memory of him pressed against the back of her skull.
"No… this isn't him," she muttered under her breath.
The boy smiled. Slow. Wide. Too wide. The light caught teeth that were too sharp, eyes that lingered too long.
Mikami's hand hovered near his weapon. His jaw clenched. He didn't need words. He knew.
Kokuine took a cautious step forward. "Mikado? You—"
Yoriko held up a hand. "Stop."
The air thickened. Shadows pooled unnaturally. The boy's movements became… wrong. Elongated. Unnatural.
"Yoriko?" the thing whispered, voice identical, warped, slightly too high, slightly too low.
She felt bile rise. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Her mind screamed at her body to run, to strike, to do anything.
But she couldn't move. Couldn't take her eyes off him.
"…Mikado," she breathed again. Not a name. A plea.
The smile widened.
Kokuine stiffened. Mikami stepped back, weapon ready, breath silent, cold, taut.
Time fractured. Every heartbeat was a gunshot. Every flicker of the torchlight a flash of danger.
The doppelgänger moved. Not forward. Not back. Sideways. Shadows swallowing its motion. Too smooth. Too deliberate.
Yoriko's gut twisted. This is wrong.
The corridor seemed to contract, walls leaning in. The echo of distant engines, the roar of the approaching Category 5, the creak of the ancient stone—all fused into a single pressing weight.
The boy—or the thing—tilted its head again.
"…Yoriko?"
Her voice faltered. "…No."
Silence hung for a heartbeat too long.
Then the thing smiled again.
Maximillius leaned back against the artillery barrel, one boot hooked over the edge.
Lollipops. Five. Six. Seven. Rainbow of flavours stuffed into his mouth. A faint glow spiralled around him—red, green, violet, gold. Buffs from the ring pulsing across his skin. He didn't even need it.
Engines screamed above. Turbo-propellers carved the wind. Steel wings shuddered.
Maxi exhaled through the lollipops, a quiet whistle mixing with the hum of the engines.
"Maxi."
She stomped onto the platform, crimson hair whipping in the gust. Hands on hips. Eyes sharp. Energy crackling.
"Hatori," he said around a mouthful of candy, tone lazy. "Finally decided to show up."
"Finally? Don't get my name wrong this time," she snapped. "Sakamura. Hatori Sakamura. Full name, remember it."
"Mm. Sure," he muttered, eyes following the planes on the runway. Didn't even glance at her.
"Where are the others?" Her voice cut over the engine roar, impatient.
"Beats me," he shrugged. "Maybe somewhere useful. Maybe not. Doesn't matter."
Hatori groaned, fists clenching. "Seriously, Maxi?"
He smirked behind the candy. "Relax. They'll show up. Or not. Who cares?"
She spun on her heel, storming toward the hangar doors. Crimson hair trailing fire in the sunlight.
Maxi exhaled through his lollipops, aura flickering lazily around him. Planes roared. Lifted. Flew.
He stayed. Just Maxi. The artillery. The rainbow candy. Calm in the storm.
"Why must she have my hair colour too…?"
The sky churned above the Flying Beauty. Engines screamed, turbines whined. Squadron Fang sliced through the clouds.
Magnus Mustang gripped the throttle. Steel hands steady. Eyes locked on the behemoth below.
Miyuki Kokoro's wings flexed. "Bombs armed. Ready on my mark."
Aidan ducked a sudden gust. "Keep your eyes open—these aren't your usual targets."
Sora muttered a prayer. Hans gritted his teeth, scanning the clouds. Naomi's goggles caught every glint of sunlight on metal. Ibrahim adjusted his stabilisers. Luka's knuckles whitened on the stick.
Engines from the other airships roared in response. Turbo-propellers, massive zeppelins, gunships—dozens of craft circling the giant. Anti-behemoth missiles clicked, bombs primed.
Then… the scales.
The behemoth shivered. Tremors ran up its massive body. A low rumble shook the clouds around it.
"Wait… that's not supposed to—"
Too late.
Smaller shapes peeled from its body. Monsters. Wings snapping, claws glinting. Roughly the size of the planes themselves. Fast. Merciless.
Two pilots from a neighbouring squadron screamed over the radio—then vanished. No traces. Just echoes of engines and a muffled shriek.
"Evasive!" Magnus barked. "All units, evasive manoeuvres!"
Planes twisted, banked, rolled. Missile trails crossed the sky. Bombs arced toward the main target. Shadows of the flying beasts streaked over them, lightning-quick.
"Got one on my six!" Naomi shouted. Her aircraft rocked violently.
"Keep formation! Don't break!" Miyuki called.
The beasts were chaotic, uncoordinated—yet terrifying. Flying beasts were rare. Usually one at a time. Dangerous, yes, but predictable. Height meant safety.
Not today.
Today, there were dozens. Each smaller beast slicing through the air like living daggers. Each one capable of destroying a plane in a heartbeat.
The squadron twisted in unison, barely dodging a strike. Ibrahim's engine flared, nearly stalling. Luka shouted as a claw clipped his wing, sending sparks cascading.
Magnus' teeth gritted. "They're… swarming. All units—keep it tight!"
Theo's voice came over comms, sharp. "Targeting the big one—focus fire! Don't get distracted!"
Mateo, Amara, Cassia, Dante, Leila—every pilot manoeuvred, bullets and missiles flashing past, engines screaming like beasts themselves.
One of the smaller monsters lunged from above. Elena twisted sharply, barely missing the swipe. A flash of metal, a roar that rattled the very sky.
Haruto, Arjun, Selene—all banking hard. Noah cursed under his breath. Yara's wings clipped clouds. Tariq's engine smoked.
Mila screamed. Taylen dove, Freya pulled up, Omar rolled to avoid a collision. Anya's comms static hissed. Diego's plane shuddered violently. Linh whispered a prayer; Kai growled through the roar of his engine.
Squadron Fang was alive. Sky alive. Chaos alive.
The behemoth—massive, incomprehensible—shifted again. Its scales rattled like an earthquake across the sky. The smaller monsters surged.
Magnus' voice over the radio was iron. "Hold formation! Don't let them separate us!"
The first strike hit. Missiles flared. Bombs detonated in a shuddering wave. Smoke curled into the sky.
And the flying beasts? They multiplied. Every shadow could be a death. Every dive could be the last.
Height was no longer safety. Speed was no longer enough. And as the behemoth watched, silent and immense, the pilots understood the worst truth: today, the sky was a battlefield—and the battlefield wanted blood.
The airships unleashed torrents of fire. Cannons barked, missiles streaked like silver comets, tracer rounds tore through the air.
Maximillius' hands moved with cold precision, lollipops clacking between his teeth, rainbow aura shimmering around him. Each shot found its mark. Flying creatures shredded in midair, feathers, scales, and metal glinting in the chaos.
"Keep them away from the airships!" a pilot barked over the radio.
"Focus fire on the big one!" another voice snapped, panicked.
Then—screams.
A smaller airship, caught off guard, swarmed by the flying beasts. Claws tore through hull and envelope, engines flaring, sparks scattering like fireworks.
"Mayday! Mayday! We're—"
Static. Muffled cries. The vessel erupted into a fireball, spinning downward. Flames licked the clouds as the ship plummeted, trailing smoke.
Radio channels erupted. Shouts. Screams. Laughter that didn't reach sanity.
"Don't let them near the airships!" one pilot yelled, voice cracking.
"Focus on the behemoth! NOW!" another screamed, panicked.
"I… I don't want to die!" stuttered a rookie, static cutting into his words.
"This is insane! They're everywhere!" someone laughed, almost manic.
Smoke and fire collided with the sky, tracers cutting through clouds, engines straining. Every pilot was alive and terrified, fighting not just the behemoth, but the small, lethal predators that defied every expectation.
The air was thick with smoke, panic, and the constant roar of engines and weaponry. Sky and airships became a battlefield of instinct, skill, and luck.
Every second could be your last.
"Man… It's a tough fight today." Maximillius blew air from his lips, casually firing multiple rounds at a flying beast.
Suddenly, the sky darkened—accompanied by a harsh vacuum of air which sucked out the oxygen from their lungs.
Then, a gigantic pillar of light plummeted from the heavens, erasing a vast portion of the flying beasts in an instant—engulfed in a blast of blinding radiance.
The light did not fade immediately.
It lingered—
A vertical scar carved into the sky, stretching from cloud to cloud, humming with residual essence. The airships nearest to it shuddered as their stabilisers screamed in protest.
For a brief moment, the battlefield went silent…
No gunfire. No engines. No screams.
Only the low, oppressive resonance of light itself.
Then— something shifted in the air.
Scopes adjusted, sensors recalibrated, and pilots leaned forward in their seats.
Maximillius bit hard on his lollipops, a smirk curving at the corner of his lips.
"Yo…?"
A silhouette descended. Slow and deliberate, as if gravity itself had been rewritten.
Not falling.
Not flying.
Descending.
The soldiers on deck erupted in hushed whispers and surprised gasps the moment they caught sight of the descending figure.
"Is that him…?!"
"It is!"
"You mean, the guy from the rumours…? THAT guy?"
"The one they call—"
Archangel.
No one asked who it was.
No one needed to.
Across the fleet, voices died in their throats as recognition set in.
Cannons and artillery remained raised—but idle.
Pilots who had been shouting orders fell silent; eyes locked on the lone figure suspended in the sky.
"…So, he finally moved…" someone muttered over a private channel.
Another voice, quieter this time:
"I thought the rumours were just rumours…"
The remaining beasts reacted violently. Their formations broke, shrill cries cutting through the air as several scattered into the clouds without direction.
Others flew straight for Archangel.
They did not get close.
The Archangel did not flinch.
Did not rush.
Did not look in their direction.
He made a single motion—barely more than a gesture.
A beam of light folded into itself and was released.
The creatures vanished completely. Erased—like they were never there. Gone so cleanly that even debris failed to remain.
"WOOOAAHHHH!"
Gan gawked in amazement, waving his cannon that transformed into a giant… foam finger…?
"You rock wingboy! No, wait—wingman!" Gan continued to cheer like crazed fan.
More beasts charged to attack but were instantly disintegrated by a flash of light.
"Holy that wasn't even an attack!" Aidan shouted over the radio, voice cracking through the static.
"He just—he just looked at them!" Luka muttered, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"THAT'S OUR ARCHANGEL!" Someone else cried in triumph, slamming a fist into a railing.
Masuyama didn't celebrate.
His eyes stayed locked on the descending figure, his expression unreadable beneath the visor.
"Three years," he muttered. "And this is the first time he's shown anything…"
Seismo's voice crackled through the comms. "That output isn't natural… the sensors can't even track whatever stunt that was… did anyone record that?"
"I did, but I didn't get the big light pillar attack earlier." Maximillius replied blankly, clicking his tongue as he sat up from his artillery station—watching Archangel's silhouette through the haze.
"Send me the clip Maxi-boy!" Gan asked expectingly through the comms.
Maximillius replied sharply. "Do your job Unc."
Gan sighed like a child denied dessert. "You're no fun."
On the other side, the Category 5 finally made a move.
Its massive body recoiled, stone and scaly flesh cracking under the sudden tension. The monster's head twisted sidewards, locking onto the lone figure in the sky.
Archangel turned his head slightly, acknowledging the behemoth's glare.
No words.
No sound.
Just the sky itself tightening under the pressure.
Gan swallowed hard. "What's gonna happen?"
Tenma grit his teeth as he narrowed his eyes. "Tch… I don't like him…"
Then, the behemoth took one thunderous step forward—
And Archangel finally moved.
"Looks like the main dish wants to play."