Final Fantasy Frontier 82 (Patreon)

Entering the airship from its port side launch bay, Andrew, wearing a black hooded cloak that cast his face in shadow, surprised the pilots, soldiers, and maintenance crew preparing to dispatch various Fighters and support craft by touching down on the ship's pier-like structure and asking, "What Class of airship is this?"

Instead of answering the question, a sword-wielding soldier exclaimed, "Who are you!? How did you get up here...!?" while swinging said sword in slow motion.

"Hmmm..."

Catching the sword with his gauntleted hand, Andrew could imagine the soldier's face paling as he squeezed the blade, shattering it like glass. A wisp of bluish-white light emanated from the blade as it was destroyed, indicating it had been imbued with Mana or something similar to reinforce it, but after absorbing the essence of Alexander's Knights and hundreds of lesser fiends and monsters, Andrew's black and white gauntlets were far beyond conventional weapons in terms of attack power and durability.

Before the soldier could recover from the shock of having his weapon destroyed, Andrew thrust his hand forward, grabbing the man's helmet and ripping it from his head as he adopted a smile and repeated, "What Class of airship is this?"

"I-I-I-Ifrit!" stammered the raven-haired man, trembling like a newborn fawn as the smell of piss filled the air.

"Neat," said Andrew, smacking the man on his forehead and knocking him out. For a brief moment, he had considered knocking the soldier off the pier to his death, but seeing the infantile fear in the grown man's eyes had curbed Andrew's bloodlust.

Before the soldier even had a chance to crumble, several others opened fire on Andrew with rapid-fire, armor-piercing crossbows. One even had a gun that fired a sphere-shaped projectile covered in glowing runes, but Andrew casually weaved through the bolts, grabbed the bullet out of the air, spun, and tossed it back at the soldier that had fired it, creating an icy explosion.

'So this world has elemental ammunition. Useful to know...' noted Andrew, crossing the twenty or so meters between him and the loose formation of soldiers in the blink of an eye, sending several flying with the shockwave produced by his movement. As their bodies moved in slow motion through the air, Andrew grabbed the ankles of an exceedingly unfortunate soldier and swung them like a bludgeon, using their armored body to scatter the remaining soldiers.

*VREEEEEO* *VREEEEEO* *VREEEEEO*

Ostensibly having detected his intrusion, the launch bay became dyed in the glow of spinning red lights, accompanied by the blare of a ship-wide alarm. The metal bulkhead connecting the launch bay to the remainder of the airship also closed with a hydraulic hiss, but Andrew just walked over and began tearing away the metal in large chunks. He lacked the physical strength to pry it open, but thanks to his gauntlets, he could scoop away the metal as if it were improperly baked clay.

Interrupting Andrew's excavation, tendrils of lightning struck him from the opposite side of the door. Unfortunately for the caster, he was immune to most elemental attacks, the lightning dancing harmlessly across his body as he remarked, "So, they have Mages..." before shoving his hand through the hole he had created and unleashing a suped-up version of the Graviga Spell, drawing the men in the adjoining corridor toward the bulkhead with a powerful gravitational force before producing a Lightning Gem to send a powerful electrical current through their bodies.

Waiting until the sounds of screaming stopped, Andrew returned the gem to his Item Box and continued his excavation of the bulkhead, eventually making a gap large enough for him to pass through. Then, as it was a bit of waste to ignore them, he looted the weapons and armor off most of the Imperials, making an exception for the sole mage as they happened to be a woman. None of the soldiers were deceased, largely thanks to the anti-magic properties of their armor, so he would feel guilty about leaving her lying naked or in her skivvies amid a group of men.

Making his way through the port section of the ship, Andrew tore through several additional bulkheads largely unobstructed. A pack of Doberman-like dogs enhanced by some kind of mechanical harness was unleashed on him, but while they were able to jump around the corridors and bounce off of walls, their movements were painfully slow in Andrew's eyes.

After defeating the dogs, Andrew proceeded to what he assumed was the ship's hold, as it was filled with massive crates. More notably, a veritable squadron of Archadian soldiers was present, spread out across the main deck, on several catwalks, and atop storage crates, each wielding ornate, musket-like rifles as they aimed at the bulkhead he had just torn through.

"Surrender at once, or your life is forfeit!" shouted an Imperial wearing a far more embellished suit of armor than everyone else. Andrew assumed they were a Judge, though not the 'Boss-grade' variety known as a Judge Magister.

"I have a counteroffer," responded Andrew, crawling through the hole he had made before holding up his hands and adding, "Abandon ship or join it when it goes down."

"Open fire!" shouted the Judge, making a cutting motion toward Andrew, prompting the sixty soldiers to open fire, many with ordinary bullets but some with elemental rounds that exploded into plumes of ice, fire, and electricity. The area Andrew was standing in became veiled in a cloud of crackling black smoke tinged with blue, red, and yellow light, but to the horror of the soldiers, their quarry emerged without a scratch on him and said, "Wrong answer." before vanishing in a clap of bluish-white light and reappearing behind the Judge.

Demonstrating superhuman reaction speed, the Judge spun around with an ornate black and gold sword in hand, but while he was certainly faster than most, Andrew appeared almost casual as he intercepted the sword with the back of his left gauntlet before punching the man in his helmeted face, leaving a visible imprint and causing him to tumble backward before falling.

"For the Emperor...!" shouted one of the men, interrupting Andrew before he could ask if anyone else wanted to try their luck. As a result, many who would have given up released spirited war cries, those closest unleashing their weapons to charge him directly, while those positioned on catwalks and atop crates did their best to reload their single-shot rifles as quickly as possible...

...

..

.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked a man with brown skin, blue eyes, and shoulder-length black hair that framed the right side of his face. His body was garbed in a dark-green pullover, matching pants, pristine white gloves, sleeveless scale mail, and white-and-gold armlets adorned with the wings of a dragon, matching his kneepads. He also wore an ornate, dark-blue-and-red cape with a gold belt that caused the fabric to frame his waist like a tailcoat.

"Reports say that a hooded figure is assailing the Ifrit from the inside," replied a man in intricately-designed silver plate armor, a horned helmet with a prominent visor, and a black cape bearing the crimson sigil of the Empire on his back.

"Yes, I am well aware of that, Judge Gabranth," said the man, narrowing his eyes like a viper as he turned back to meet the Judge Magister's gaze and added, "What I want to know is who they are and how they managed to infiltrate one of our airships without one of their own."

"I beseech your understanding, Lord Vayne," said Gabranth, bowing as he explained, "But the assailant has proven themselves particularly capable, overwhelming the Ifrit's defenses and bypassing bulkheads with ease. At this rate, it may be better to abandon and scuttle the ship before they can commandeer it or escape to assail another..."

"This was supposed to be a simple operation to ensure my seamless rise to power in Rabanastre..." muttered Vayne, returning his gaze to the Ifrit overhead. It was only one of several Ifrit-class ships in the 8th Fleet, but it was still a valuable military asset. If he lost it on his first day as Consul, the old fools sucking the very lifeblood of the Empire from their positions in the Senate were bound to call his leadership into question.

"Shall we attempt to reclaim the ship?" asked Gabranth, causing Vayne to shake his head and state, "No. If they are as skilled as reported, there is a possibility this is a trap to divert attention from the Resistance forces on the ground. Send orders to the 8th Fleet and ready the deployment of the Paling."

"As you will, my Lord," replied Gabranth, turning on his heel and departing the Consul's office with hastened steps. In the wake of his departure, a shadowy figure veiled in Mist appeared next to Vayne, speaking in a voice only he could hear...

...

..

.

Interrupting Andrew's exploration and takeover of the Ifrit, the sounds of explosions emanated throughout the hull, causing it to heave, creak, and vibrate from external impacts.

Raising his gaze toward the flickering lights overhead, Andrew remarked, "Looks like I've overstayed my welcome..." while releasing his hold on the Imperial he had been choking.

'Well, at least this balances things out a bit...' thought Andrew, correlating the lives of the Ifrit's crew with the Resistance fighters being slaughtered on the ground. It could be argued that he had doomed both sides, but as this was the direct consequence of the soldiers' actions, he tried not to let it bother him as a bluish-white light veiled his body, his form disappearing in a staticky 'clap.'

Reappearing atop the building he had been perched upon all afternoon, Andrew watched with a neutral mask as several other airships assailed the Ifrit from afar. The gunmen aboard the Ifrit started returning fire in their final moments, but it was hopeless. Within two minutes of the initial salvo, the ship began to list before rapidly plunging from the sky, crashing into an invisible barrier that shimmered cerulean blue as the massive ship impacted it, disintegrating into countless tiny pieces after a series of large explosions.

'I should probably make sure there are no hiccups...' thought Andrew, as his actions had undoubtedly altered the course of fate. If the Archadians decided to immediately execute Vaan, Baltheir, and Fran in retribution for the Ifrit's destruction, derailing the plot would be the least of his worries.

With such thoughts in mind, Andrew descended from his perch and flew toward the palace. The Paling only affected objects of a certain size or moving at a high velocity, so he could fly through it largely unobstructed, feeling like he had passed through a thick silk curtain that caused the hair and fur on his body to stand on end.

Perching atop one of the smaller towers along the palace's perimeter, Andrew kept his eyes peeled on the ramparts overlooking the central plaza and fountain. His memories of FFXII were vague, but he recalled the scene where Balthier had thrown Vaan from the ramparts before leaping after him, causing Fran to have to rescue them both aboard a hoverbike. However, as that incident should have coincided with the Ifrit's arrival, Andrew assumed it had already occurred.

'Should I try heading into the waterway...?' Andrew pondered. However, as that conflicted with his original plan, he ultimately sat down with his arms and legs crossed, silently observing the battle below. He noticed it while invading the Ifrit, but the average strength of the soldiers in FFXII was extremely lacking. Most couldn't even utilize magic, so their attacks were slow and encumbered by their heavy armor. There were a handful of outliers, but they would quickly garner the attention of groups of enemies, causing them to be swarmed and inevitably overwhelmed.

Directing his gaze skyward, now populated by numerous airships, Andrew couldn't help feeling the startling disparity between the soldiers fighting on the ground and the titanic vessels floating overhead. He knew soldiers were needed to occupy and fortify a location, but he couldn't imagine the thought process that would compel someone to become a footsoldier or a member of the Resistance when a single airship could annihilate them...

'Now I understand why Alexandria focused on the development of anti-air weapons. This is just stupid...' thought Andrew, watching as the Paling fell, allowing the fleet above to completely decimate the remaining soldiers on the ground, making no distinction between friend and foe...

...

..

.