To be honest, when it comes to crafting backstory, you’ve got to tread carefully… Absolutely do not just start regaling your kids with these tales—

I once told my son the backstory behind the Red Dragon–class and Submerged Dragon–class vessels,

and who would’ve thought he’d turn to me and ask, “So what did the Night Heron–class look like before it was destroyed?”

…

Alright then—why not just build one myself?

Welcome to download,

the most popular medium-sized warship in the Panyan Universe,

a versatile all‑rounder skilled in search, strike, and evacuation—

a flagship offering from Peak Dynamics: the SSM-45T Night Heron–Class Assault Ship

Overview:

• Scale: 1/1250
• Panyan Universe Series
• Assault ship tonnage: a fictional displacement, roughly positioned between a destroyer and a cruiser.
• The multi‑color system requires only the printing of the Peak Dynamics logo.
• Based on the standard medium‑size hull framework of the SSM-45 series.
• The side subsystems feature a magnetic quick‑release design, allowing for easy module swaps to adapt to different mission requirements.
• Non‑printable components include:
• 4 x 6 mm N52 strong magnets

Mechanical Specifications & Assembly Instructions:

Backstory: “Past Events”

Lunar Synchronous Orbit – Peak Dynamics Blue Sky Museum – 2 Years Ago

The Blue Sky, a massive transport vessel operated by Peak Dynamics, was decommissioned and repurposed as a corporate museum, permanently anchored in lunar synchronous orbit. Every new recruit joining Peak Dynamics is required to visit this museum as part of their onboarding process.

As the shuttle’s docking chime softly sounded, Zhou Ziyang was the first to grab his mech model pendant and spring to his feet. Just as the hatch slid open a crack, he leaned forward, peering into the Blue Sky—warm light flooded the cabin, casting his excited shadow against the pristine white walls. Xia Xiaoyu trailed behind, clutching her notebook tightly; the tips of her fingers left faint imprints on the cover as she slowed her pace by half a step—only when Zhou Ziyang turned around and called out, “Xiaoyu, hurry up and take a look!” did she finally shuffle forward.

Liu Yunzhou walked in the middle, his gaze fixed squarely on the “Visitor Orientation” sign inside the cabin, his brow slightly furrowed as if lost in thought. Zhao Ruixi brought up the rear, casually steadying Xiaoyu—who had stumbled slightly from the residual vibrations of the shuttle—before hesitating to enter the museum himself. He tilted his head upward, scanning the distant lights along the orbital path, then quickly lowered his eyes again, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips—“Honestly, instead of staring at these old relics, why not head down to the lunar surface and find a spot to go fishing? This is really boring.”

“Four interns have arrived!” The tour guide stepped forward, holding an electronic audio guide in hand, her light blue uniform crisp and polished. “I’m Lin Wei—let’s start with the mech exhibit, then move on to the ship exhibits, and finish with the Hall of Honor. Shall we get started?”

The mech display stood dazzlingly bright, a 2.8-meter-tall Panyan mech towering in the center, its alloy exterior polished to a mirror-like finish. Zhou Ziyang immediately leaned in, his fingers nearly brushing the muzzle of the “Furious Dog” plasma cannon—when suddenly, the hulking machine spoke up: “Please refrain from touching the exhibits, students.” Startled, the group burst into laughter.

“Let’s watch a short video,” Lin Wei said, tapping the screen of her audio guide. In the holographic display, the mech activated its “Banner” backpack, and in an instant, wide‑area mode swept away a swarm of small drones.

Xia Xiaoyu quickly ducked her head, her pen darting across the pages of her notebook as if determined to capture every detail of the day’s experience—and after finishing, she shifted slightly to the side, afraid she might block others’ view. Liu Yunzhou crouched beside the display, his eyes locked onto the hydraulic rods of the mech’s joints, his fingers unconsciously tracing the movement of each articulation.

Only Zhao Ruixi leaned against a column in the exhibit area, pulling out his phone to review the requirements for the practical training report he needed to submit—his eyes never once strayed toward the mech. Lin Wei noticed his aloofness and approached him with a bottle of water, her tone light and cheerful: “Student, why haven’t you taken a closer look at the Panyan exhibits here? Have you seen these before back at school?”

Zhao Ruixi raised his eyes to accept the water, his fingertips pausing briefly as they touched the bottle’s surface. His voice remained steady: “Yeah, during our practical training, we actually got to see a fully functional Panyan mech—pretty much the same as these.”

“Oh? So what’s your major?” Lin Wei’s eyes lit up, and she pressed further. “Trajectory Prediction.” He answered succinctly, his gaze drifting back toward the porthole—far off in the distance, six tiny 2mm‑sized dots were slowly moving across the orbital path. The first three drifted erratically, while the last three maintained a remarkably orderly formation.

“Trajectory prediction? That’s seriously impressive!” Lin Wei’s voice rose with excitement. “That’s the core component of the target‑acquisition computer—and we’ll have more to share about that in the ship exhibit later.”

Zhou Ziyang immediately moved in, slapping Zhao Ruixi on the shoulder and exclaiming, “Nice work, Ruixi! That’s a high‑end specialization—unlike me, who studied logistics; I’m probably stuck transporting cargo for the rest of my career.” Zhao Ruixi didn’t respond. Lin Wei added, “Logistics is a major business for Peak Dynamics too… Alright, everyone, we’re almost at the ship exhibit! Next, let me introduce you to the most popular cargo and warships in the entire solar system—the Qingkong–class and the Night Heron–class…”

Zhao Ruixi trailed behind, glancing once more at the dots outside the porthole. The light in that region seemed a bit brighter than before—almost as if something were hurtling toward them, spiraling out of control.

At this moment, 20 kilometers from the museum, three Night Heron–class ships from the Lunar Circle Security Force (LCSF) were hot on the heels of three Night Heron–class vessels belonging to the Wanderer Fleet.

“Ship 017, attention! The enemy ships are trying to slip into the asteroid belt—don’t let them get away! Ship 420, stay back and maintain formation—watch those two suspiciously modified gunships!” Ship 021, the trailing vessel of the security fleet, issued the fleet’s command.

“017, copy.” “420, copy.” The two Night Heron–class ships responded in unison.

Ship 021’s broadcast cut directly into the public channel: “Three Wanderer vessels, listen up—immediately halt your ships and surrender!”

“Sir! Sir, please spare us! We’ll stop right now!! Don’t fire!” The pirate’s voice echoed through the public channel.

Almost as soon as the voice came through, the three LCSF warships flashed their warning lights.

“Railguns! Evade!”

Two railgun armor‑penetrating shells—far exceeding the caliber of standard medium‑size naval guns—raced toward the LCSF fleet at 80 km/s.

“White light… Is that an explosion? What’s going on?” Zhao Ruixi wondered, watching the flickering dots outside the porthole.

“Ship 021, this is Ship 017—our port side has sustained severe damage! The auxiliary thrusters are about to shut down, and we may no longer be able to maintain our pursuit speed of 320 m/s!”

“Damn it! Ship 017, put out the fires—leave the rest to us!” the captain of Ship 021 barked.

“We’re currently 300 km from the enemy ships,” the navigator reported. “Their gunships are traveling at around 240 m/s—given the current situation, we won’t be able to launch heavy missiles for engagement anytime soon. We need to close the range!”

“Hahaha! Hahahaha! Ladies and gentlemen, how did you like my little gift? Was the food alright? Hahahaha!” The pirate’s voice rang out over the public channel.

“You bastard! Stop your ship right now and surrender!” the captain of Ship 420 roared, furious.

“What? What did you say? My signal’s not great…” the pirate continued, “Oh! I get it—you want me—the legendary pirate of the solar system, the record holder for the longest-range hit by the Wanderer Fleet, ‘Nightshade’s Swift Blade’ Mark Roger—to throw you a grand funeral!”

“‘Nightshade… Swift Blade’ Mark Roger—wasn’t he the notorious pirate the lunar security forces were hunting just a few weeks ago? They said his illegally converted Night Heron–class gunship had destroyed a civilian transport ship from 500 km away!” Xia Xiaoyu exclaimed in shock.

“Everyone, we just received an emergency notification from the LCSF—there’s been a conflict near the museum. For safety reasons, we’re cutting our tour short and heading straight to the shelter bay—hurry!” Lin Wei said, her voice tinged with panic.

As she spoke, she headed toward the exit of the exhibit area—but when she passed Zhao Ruixi, she saw him still leaning against the column, his gaze fixed on the dots outside the porthole. She quickly tugged at his arm: “Student, don’t just stand there—let’s go! Only the shelter bay is safe!”

Zhao Ruixi took two steps under her pull—but he still hadn’t fully looked away—when another pair of white streaks shot out from that same white dot. What on earth was that?

“Ruixi! Hurry up and leave!” Zhou Ziyang called back to him, already leading Xia Xiaoyu toward the exit. Xia Xiaoyu’s notebook slipped from her hands, its cover bearing a shallow imprint from where it had been stepped on—but she didn’t dare turn back to pick it up. Instead, she clutched at Zhou Ziyang’s sleeve, her body trembling slightly.

Liu Yunzhou bent down to pick up the notebook, then hurried to catch up with the group. As he passed the porthole, he paused for a moment—then, suddenly, a flash of orange‑red light streaked across the distant dots, brighter than the previous white flashes—and rapidly growing larger, racing toward the Blue Sky.

“Sister Lin, what was that?”

Before the words had even finished, the ship shook violently—as if struck hard by some unseen force. The holographic projections in the exhibit area went dark in an instant, and the spotlights crashed to the floor with a loud “clatter,” shards scattering everywhere.

“All personnel, please take immediate evasive action,” the Panyan mech announced.

Zhou Ziyang instinctively pulled Xia Xiaoyu behind him, while Zhao Ruixi grabbed the railing of the nearby display, stabilizing his stance as he glanced once more toward the porthole—where that orange‑red light had already slammed into the outer hull of the Blue Sky.

The sharp, metallic screech of tearing metal echoed throughout the entire ship exhibit area.

“Watch out!” Zhou Ziyang pushed Xia Xiaoyu beneath the display, but just as he was about to follow her into cover, a sudden “creak” pierced the air above—heavy load-bearing beams had been loosened by the impact, and several jagged metal plates came crashing down. He instinctively looked up, his pupils contracting sharply as he reached out to pull Xia Xiaoyu further into the shelter—but it was already too late.

“Xiaoyu!” Liu Yunzhou’s roar cut through the chaos. Just as he picked up the notebook, he saw that metal plate hurtling straight toward Xia Xiaoyu’s back—she hadn’t yet fully retreated into the display, her slender shoulders exposed, blood seeping instantly through her school uniform, blossoming like a sudden crimson stain.

Xia Xiaoyu let out a soft grunt, her body slumping weakly as she fell backward—her notebook, still clutched tightly in her hand, slipped to the ground, its cover stained dark with blood. Zhou Ziyang lunged forward in a frantic rush, trying to lift her up—but his palm met only warm, wet flesh: “Xiaoyu! Xiaoyu, don’t fall asleep!”

Lin Wei’s legs went weak with fear, her arms trembling as she clung to the edge of the display. The comm unit was filled with static, and all she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat. Zhao Ruixi forced himself to remain calm, snatching Lin Wei’s comm unit and switching to the public channel, shouting into the speaker: “Help! Help! The Blue Sky has been attacked! There are casualties—urgently request rescue!”

Liu Yunzhou crouched down, carefully lifting Xia Xiaoyu into his arms. Her eyes were half‑open, her lips moving faintly, her voice so soft it sounded like a breath: “Liu Yunzhou… the notebook…” Her fingertips pointed toward the blood‑stained notebook on the ground—but before she could touch it, her hand fell limply to her side.

“I know—I’ll hold it for you,” Liu Yunzhou said, his voice trembling as he tucked the notebook into his chest. “Just hang in there a little longer—LCSF ships will be here any minute…” But the person in his arms had already gone still; only the blood on her back continued to seep slowly, staining the cuff of his sleeve a deep red.

Lunar Trade Alliance – LCSF Spaceport – Present

“Captain Zhao, two unidentified vessels have been detected 600 km from the Lunar Circle—our sensors can’t identify them, but we suspect they’re pirates,” the navigator’s words pulled Zhao Ruixi back from his thoughts.

“Order all ships to enter Secondary Combat Readiness—engines online, maintain maximum speed of 350 m/s. Launch tube #1 of the Guardian drones should be loaded with ‘Blazing Edge – Modified’ air‑superiority drones; tube #2 should be loaded with ‘Firebrand’ heavy‑strike bombers. All weapons and ammunition should be retracted to Zero Position.” Zhao Ruixi adjusted his collar and spoke.

“Ship 083, prepare for launch!”