Tatehan couldn't sleep.

He'd tried, lay in bed, stared at the ceiling, closed his eyes and willed himself to rest. But his mind wouldn't stop. It kept running through the plan, over and over, looking for flaws, imagining everything that could go wrong.

Finally, he gave up.

He got dressed and left his quarters, wandering through the base.

The corridors were quiet, most of the members of the Red crest clan asleep or trying to be. But as Tatehan walked, he passed a few who were still awake, sitting alone in the common areas, checking their gear one last time, staring off into space.

He stopped when he saw a small group gathered in one of the training rooms.

Three Red crest clan members, young, maybe early twenties, sitting on the floor, talking in low voices. They looked up when Tatehan entered.

"Battle Commander," one of them said, straightening.

Tatehan waved a hand.

"At ease," he said. "Couldn't sleep either?"

The soldier, a woman with short-cropped hair, shook her head.

"No, sir," she said.

Tatehan sat down on the floor with them, ignoring protocol. He wasn't even used to this, members addressing him like he was some old man, bowing and tensing slightly when they saw him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kira," she said. "This is Dane and Elric."

The other two nodded.

"You scared?" Tatehan asked.

Kira hesitated, then nodded.

"A little." she admitted.

"Me too," Tatehan said.

The soldiers looked at him, surprised.

"You are?" Dane asked.

"Yes," Tatehan said. "I'd be an idiot not to be. This is dangerous. People are going to get hurt. Maybe die."

He paused, then looked at each of them.

"But we're doing this anyway," he said. "Because it's the right thing to do. Because if we don't, a lot more people die."

Kira nodded slowly.

"Yeah," she said quietly.

They sat in silence for a while, Tatehan suddenly blurting:

"Y'know what, fuck fear, Fear is a piece of crap."

Then he stood and noticed the smiles of being motivated by his words on their faces.

"Get some rest," he said. "We're going to need it."

The soldiers nodded, and Tatehan left the room.

He wandered back outside, stepping onto one of the base's upper balconies.

He remembered Riven telling him back at the wastelands when they first met that waython hollow was a place were people gathered to sell stuffs like weapons and all that.

He could see nothing like that here, the people he had thought were traders were actually members of the Red crest clan.

It was obvious at this point that the trade had stopped, the city was now very much developed that all this things could he found at stores there.

And the Red crest clan was the protector of the city, the commander being (technically) the head of it.

He looked at the sky, it was just beginning to lighten, the first hints of dawn creeping over the horizon.

Tatehan leaned against the railing, staring up at the sky.

Somewhere up there, the fortress waited.

And today, he'd bring it down.

———

The launch zone was chaos.

Forty-two soldiers lined up in formation on the upper platform of the Red Crest Clan base, each one suited up in full combat gear. Hovering boots glowed faintly at their feet, plasma rifles and energy weapons were slung across shoulders, and faces were hidden behind helmets with targeting visors.

Tatehan stood at the front, his upgraded armor gleaming in the early morning light. Lyra was to his right, her expression focused and calm. Riven was to his left, her explosive rifle locked and loaded, a slight grin on her face despite the danger ahead.

The commander stood on an elevated platform overlooking the launch zone, her voice amplified through the base's speaker system.

"Strike team," she called out. "You know your mission. You know what's at stake. The bombs are already en route. When they detonate, you move in fast and hard. Bring that fortress down."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the assembled soldiers.

"Good luck," she said. "And come back alive."

The soldiers raised their fists in unison, a single, unified motion.

Tatehan took a breath, then activated his comm.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "On my mark. Three... two... one... launch!"

The platform erupted with sound as forty-two pairs of hovering boots activated simultaneously.

And then they were airborne.

The sensation of flying was unlike anything Tatehan had ever experienced.

The hovering boots hummed beneath his feet, lifting him smoothly off the ground. For a moment, there was a strange sense of weightlessness, like the world had let go of him, and then the boots stabilized, responding to his movements perfectly.

He leaned forward slightly, and the boots propelled him forward. He tilted his body, and he banked smoothly to the left. It was intuitive, natural, like his body already knew what to do.

Around him, the strike team rose into the air in perfect formation. The Skyblades, the sleek, one-pilot spacecraft, launched from the hangar below, their engines roaring as they climbed to join the formation. Pilots maneuvered through the air with ease, their crafts darting like birds of prey.

Tatehan glanced down as they climbed higher.

Waython Hollow spread out beneath him, a sprawling city of glass and steel bathed in the golden light of dawn. The buildings glittered, the streets crisscrossed in neat geometric patterns, and the elevated transit lines shimmered like silver threads connecting the city together.

It was beautiful, stunning even, making him want to stare at it much longer.

Tatehan had never seen it like this, from above, peaceful and this good to the eyes. Maybe one of these days, he would take a hovering boot, fly up here and just enjoy the view.

Now he turned his gaze upward, and the fortress came into view.

The sky fortress loomed ahead, a monstrous structure suspended high above the city. Even from a distance, it was imposing, still half-finished, but it was already terrifying.

And it was growing closer. How would this look if it was fully finished?

Tatehan's comm crackled to life.

"Bombs are in position," Torvan's voice came through, calm and steady. "Detonating in ten seconds."

Tatehan's grip tightened on his summoned chakrams.

"All units, prepare for combat," he said into the comm. "Stay tight. Stay focused. We move the moment those bombs go off."

The strike team acknowledged in unison.

The seconds ticked down.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Tatehan could see the tiny bombs now, barely visible specks moving ahead of them, closing in on the fortress.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

The bombs latched onto the structural weak points, embedding themselves into the metal beams.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Tatehan took a breath.

One.

The bombs detonated.

The explosions tore through the fortress like chain lightning.

Massive plumes of fire and smoke erupted from the structural weak points, the sound echoing across the sky like thunder. Metal beams buckled and twisted, entire sections of the framework collapsing inward. Debris rained down, glowing chunks of molten metal spinning through the air.

Alarms blared across the fortress. Soldiers scrambled on the platforms, shouting orders, grabbing weapons, racing to defensive positions.

But they were too late.

"Charge!" Tatehan roared into the comm.

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