First Flight Final Fall の小説・ストーリー

I whispered. The battlefield trembled violently. The trial itself had shifted. ************************************************* The First Failure let out a roar that split the sky and its body began transforming into something far more stable… far more dangerous. A perfected form. And its final words echoed across the world: “Then the Final Trial begins… now.”

Men! Bree steps close to Fallon, her face paling. “So, do we fly out of here or disappear like my sister and Lucifer?” Fallon releases his own wings and extends his hand. “I’d rather fly.” Bree gasps and takes a step back, surprised by the radiance of his wings. Unlike Lucifer, Fallon is more hesitant in his approach. He simply moves forward and holds his hands out to her.

The plane stood tall on the runway, as the night stars shone clearly from a bright sky. The weather had calmed enough for them to risk the flight back, and begin finalizing the war plan once they landed. Vamps flew up the steps into the personnel carrier like wraiths in a horror movie, followed leisurely by the rogues looking forward to spilling blood.

“That is enough.” The words weren’t loud. They were final. The air dropped. The invisible buoyancy vanished as if cut from beneath her. Adelaide gasped, startled—not by pain, but by the sudden loss of lift. Her wings reacted instantly. They fell. Not collapsing entirely, but drooping—light dimming along their edges as the wide, sovereign span folded inward in abrupt defeat. The tips dipped lower than before, the curve of them softening, flame paling to a restrained glow.

The propeller roared to life, and the aircraft surged forward. From the moment the wheels left the ground, Greg was in his element. The sky embraced him. Scene – Mid-Flight, High Above Greg completed his first maneuver—a sharp left bank, followed by a perfect vertical climb. The plane rose like a phoenix before leveling out in a smooth arc. “Altitude holding steady,” he murmured. He dove next, the nose angling down in a calculated descent before pulling up just feet from the ground. The crowd gasped audibly—even from the observation deck, Helena could hear them.

“I noticed.” He turned the page again. Then he paused. “Ah.” I already knew what he was looking at. “Flight.” He folded his hands together. “Since your wings have manifested, you will be required to attend First Flight.” I nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” “Most students take that course in their first year,” he continued calmly. “But the fundamentals remain the same regardless of age.” His gaze softened slightly. “It will help you learn balance, control, and endurance.” “That’s… probably a good idea.”

This ain’t about gimmicks and control, I promised Camilla, and I’m keeping my word. My seatbelt digs into my hips. The tires hit the runway with a bump, followed by the roar of engines. The jet slows down as it taxis, the sound fading into a gentle hum. FIJIDALE. I toss my cigar into the ashtray, shoving a hand over my hair. Take the hounds, get back in, fly away. Easy. “FUCK!” I collapse back onto my seat. “Panther, come on. This wasn’t the plan. Please.”

" Phineas couldn't find any words to respond. He just lowered his head and kept eating. Nobody else dared to ask anything either. The mood turned heavy. Phineas had just voiced out what everyone was thinking. But after hearing Morton's explanation, it made sense. High-paying jobs meant being busy, not calling home every day like they had nothing better to do. With just a few words, Morton had turned their doubts into trust. Then, the flight attendant's voice came over the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. Lavatories are now closed as we begin our descent." Morton's smile grew wider. After the plane landed, they would all be on his turf. "Everyone, buckle up and stay safe

The jet’s nose groaned, fighting against the wind. ​"Lorenzo! Give me everything you have on the left engine!" I screamed into the dead comms. ​The plane leveled out—not a flight, but a controlled fall. Through the shattered cockpit door, I could see the horizon spinning. We weren't over the ocean. We were over the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Alps. ​"Impact!" Lorenzo’s voice screamed from the front, raw and terrified. ​Dante didn't look at the window. He grabbed my face, his thumbs forcing my eyes to stay locked on his. In the final seconds before the world turned into a screaming vortex of white and metal, he didn't pray. He didn't apologize.

"We can work something out together. Some of the subsidiaries-" "I don't care about the company anymore." He turned, and the coldness in his voice made her flinch. "Alejandro can have the buildings. The money. All of it." "Then what do you want?" His smile was terrible. "I want him to feel what I felt. Watching everything slip away. Piece by piece. Until there's nothing left but rage and time." The computer chimed again. More flight data. "The second flight's a ghost." Claudia scanned the details. "Too many holes in the paperwork. It's the decoy."