Terran Commonwealth, Epsilon Prime, Garipan — War Planning Department

  Time: Mid-November 2510, Late Night

  Jack Harlan's gaze was locked on Nya, his mind filled with shock and confusion. Nya? A fighter pilot? How could she possess critical intelligence that even the generals couldn't solve?

  Nya stood up, her black flight suit looking crisp and sharp in the light. She glanced at Jack, then her calm gaze swept over every general and staff officer present.

  "Gentlemen," her voice was clear and steady, nothing like a survivor who had just endured a brutal dogfight, "before I begin, I need to clarify my status. The primary mission of the 13th Independent Night Operations Wing, also known as the 'Blackjack' squadron, is not air combat. It is to execute top-secret infiltration, reconnaissance, and… intelligence contact missions."

  A suppressed commotion rippled through the conference room. She waited a beat, then continued.

  "A few days ago," Nya paused, "during a mission behind enemy lines, my team escorted a special guest—an envoy from the 'Freedom Front,' the largest anti-government resistance organization within the Draconian Imperium."

  "I believe this organization is no stranger to any of you. It is a military group spontaneously formed by the so-called 'lower-class' peoples within the Empire to overthrow the royal family. The Federation has been providing them with secret military aid for several years."

  "We have never known who their leader is, only his codename—"

  Her voice paused for half a second here, as if gently placing a heavy word on the table.

  "Talos."

  "The envoy delivered a message," Nya continued. "'Talos' has reason to believe that there is a commander within our Federation forces who possesses sufficient military judgment to see through Cyril Vane 's tactical layouts and cooperate with their actions. Therefore, he decided to create an opportunity for us in this campaign. A high-risk 'invitation' sent via the 'Orion Glyph'."

  [WITNESS_LOG: UPDATED]

  "And this 'Talos'—" her gaze slowly fell upon Jack, her emotions restrained but unable to completely hide their complexity, "—is Cyril Vane."

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  This time, it wasn't a commotion, but a heavy silence. A silence that carried an unspeakable fear and a rationality on the verge of shattering.

  Jack's mind went blank. All his simulations, all his analyses, suddenly seemed pale in the face of this name. Cyril… is Talos? The man who pushed them to the brink was simultaneously prying open another door for them?

  He looked at Nya—the woman who had shared her most vulnerable moments with him in the tunnel—who now seemed like a messenger from the other side of the war.

  While everyone else was still digesting this subversive intelligence, Jack's mind had already laid out the logic of the "double-edged sword" plan:

  —If the Federation fails to understand the symbol, Cyril will use a great victory to solidify his position in the Empire.

  —If the Federation understands and takes the initiative to attack, he will use the Federation's hand to eliminate the most elite forces of the royal family's loyalists at minimal cost.

  Whether they won or lost, he was on the path to "winning."

  "This… this is his 'Mutual Destruction Compact'…" Jack said in a low voice, his throat tight.

  Colonel Parker couldn't help but ask, "What if we can't determine his true intentions?"

  "There's no way," Nya's reply was calm. "The envoy said that 'Talos's' identity is their only hope and must absolutely not be exposed. We can only seize this opportunity ourselves. If we don't have sufficient military analysis capability, he will—from a purely military perspective—destroy us without hesitation."

  All eyes once again fell upon General Carrick. The decision was like a stone, heavy enough to crush a man's breath.

  The air felt like someone had hit the pause button.

  Carrick was silent for a long time. He glanced at Jack, then at Nya, and finally, his gaze landed on the attack map pointing towards the Low Ridge Jungle.

  "Orders," he began, his voice hoarse, yet decisive. "Third Highway and Miyali defensive lines are to immediately launch a pincer offensive against the Low Ridge Jungle. All besieged city garrisons are to abandon their defensive positions and shift to a counter-offensive to compress the enemy's strategic space."

  "—We're taking the bet."

  At the same moment, Draconian Imperium, Hidden Command Headquarters

  [VARIANCE:+2.1e-6]

  General Cyril stood before the map, silent. Beside him, Captain Kaelen stared at his chronometer, the strap tapping lightly against his wrist.

  "It's still early," Cyril said without turning around. "If that 'kindred spirit' in the Federation sees the opportunity, he won't let it pass. Kaelen, you're still too impatient. You need to change that."

  The captain fell silent, hiding his haste, leaving only the ticking of the clock.

  Cyril picked up his coffee. "Since they saw through the plan for the Cadian Gorge, they should be able to see this one as well."

  Kaelen curled his lip. "Respected Talos, I find it hard to believe that gaggle of Federation generals can see through your plan again. Could it be… that it was made too subtle?"

  Cyril smiled faintly, his brown eyes steady, deep, and calm, like glass that could see through the stars.

  "No. Because this time, the one who saw through my plan is probably not a general at all."