The last wave of carrier fighters burst forth like a swarm of furious hornets, hurling themselves into the enemy fleet that encircled them. Against the vast, lightless canvas of space, their explosions bloomed into fleeting flowers of fire — the dying breaths of a doomed colossus.

The shields were gone. The armor was stripped away. The hull lay open, baring its mangled wounds. And amid the chaos, the Chimera-class carrier made its final, irrevocable turn.
Its bow dipped — a knight lowering his lance — and locked onto the planet below: the world known as Shuramonte. Then began its silent plunge into death.

Gravity became its most merciless ally.
When the enemy realized this was no retreat, but a sacrifice, their desperate stasis beams and jamming waves reached for the falling giant — too late. The descent was unstoppable, the laws of physics themselves now crowning vengeance.
Breaking free of its last restraints, the ship became a meteor — drawn by its own fury, and by the pull of the world it had chosen to die upon.

As it entered Shuramonte’s atmosphere, friction ignited it into a burning sword descending from the heavens. Enemy flak tried to tear it apart midair, but only scattered into useless bursts of light — a futile salute to the fallen.

It carried the wrath of an entire civilization, the full weight of a nation's pride, as it struck the surface.

No sound could capture that moment.
First, a new sun was born upon the ground, its radiance consuming all. Then came the shockwave — a continental roar that hurled billions of tons of soil, metal, and annihilation outward in a glowing ring of fury. Cities evaporated in an instant, their outlines erased like dust brushed from a map.

When the clouds of ash at last began to settle, what remained was a molten wound, deep enough to glimpse the planet’s mantle — an unhealing eye, staring forever into the stars.