Everything has burned down. My job is gone, everything is gone.
On a Sunday in late May, Russia directed one of the war's most concentrated barrages at Kyiv, deploying hypersonic missiles alongside hundreds of drones in a strike that killed at least four people and wounded roughly a hundred more. The assault reached schools, markets, museums, and ministries — the architecture of ordinary civic life — raising once again the question of what it means to wage war against a city rather than an army. Western leaders framed the use of the advanced Oreshnik missile not as a show of strength but as a confession of stalemate, a nation reaching for spectacle when the battlefield offers no clear path forward.
- Russia launched 600 drones and 90 missiles at Kyiv in a single night, including the hypersonic Oreshnik — a weapon Ukraine has no defence capable of stopping.
- The strikes tore through civilian life: a market of 22 years reduced to ash, a school set ablaze, a 74-year-old man and his dog thrown across a room by a shock wave.
- Ukraine's National Art Museum, its Foreign Ministry, and government headquarters were all struck — institutions that survived World War II now bearing the scars of this one.
- Zelenskyy warned the attack must not pass without consequences, while Western leaders condemned the Oreshnik's deployment as nuclear brinkmanship masking battlefield failure.
- EU foreign ministers are convening to discuss escalating international pressure, but the gap between condemnation and capability remains the defining tension of the moment.
On a Sunday in late May, Russia launched one of the heaviest single assaults of the war against Kyiv and the surrounding region — 600 drones and 90 missiles, including the hypersonic Oreshnik, deployed for only the third time since the invasion began. The weapon travels at ten times the speed of sound, and Ukraine has nothing that can intercept it. When the night ended, at least four people were dead and around a hundred wounded, with Kyiv absorbing the greatest share of the destruction.
The targets were not military installations but the texture of city life. A water facility was struck. A market burned entirely to the ground. Schools caught fire. Residential buildings across every district of the capital sustained damage. Svitlana Onofryichuk, who had sold goods at the market for 22 years, told reporters she was leaving Kyiv for good — her livelihood gone in a single night. Yevhen Zosin, 74, grabbed his dog and fled his apartment as the blasts came; a shock wave threw them both to the ground. They survived. The apartment did not.
The strikes also reached institutions of cultural and political memory. Ukraine's National Art Museum — home to one of the country's most significant collections — suffered shattered windows and structural damage, though the artworks themselves appeared intact. The Foreign Ministry building, undamaged since the Second World War, was struck for the first time in over eighty years. The government headquarters lost its windows. President Zelenskyy said Kyiv was the deliberate primary target and warned that the attack must carry consequences for Russia.
Moscow framed the assault as retaliation for a Ukrainian drone strike it claimed had hit a student dormitory in Russian-controlled territory, killing 21. Ukraine denied the accusation. At an emergency UN Security Council session, Ukraine's ambassador dismissed the war crimes allegations as propaganda. Western leaders were swift to condemn: France's Macron called the Oreshnik's use a sign of Russia's dead end, Germany's Merz labelled it reckless escalation, and EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas described it as political theatre and nuclear brinkmanship from a country that has run out of battlefield answers. Whether that condemnation translates into anything capable of changing the war's trajectory remains, as ever, the open question.
On a Sunday in late May, Russia unleashed one of its most devastating barrages yet against Kyiv and the surrounding region. The assault involved 600 drones and 90 missiles of various types, including 36 ballistic weapons. Among them was the Oreshnik, a hypersonic missile that travels at ten times the speed of sound—a weapon Russia had now deployed for the third time since the invasion began. When the strikes ended, at least four people were dead and roughly 100 wounded across the country, with Kyiv bearing the heaviest toll.
The targets were scattered across the city and its outskirts. A water supply facility was hit. A market burned to the ground. Dozens of residential buildings were damaged, along with several schools. In the city of Bila Tserkva, southeast of Kyiv, the Oreshnik struck with particular force. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, posting on social media in the hours after the attack, called the assault "heavy" and noted that not all of the ballistic missiles had been intercepted. "The largest number of hits was in Kyiv," he wrote. "Kyiv was the primary target of this Russian attack." He added a warning: "It is important that this does not pass without consequences for Russia."
The human cost was immediate and visible. Vitali Klitschko, Kyiv's mayor, reported two dead in the capital and 56 wounded. The head of the surrounding Kyiv region confirmed two more deaths and nine wounded in preliminary counts. Damage was recorded in every district of the city. A school fire broke out from one strike. A business centre was hit, trapping people in a shelter below. Svitlana Onofryichuk, who had worked in the market for 22 years, told the Associated Press she was leaving Kyiv. "It was a terrible night and there has never been anything like it in the entire war," she said. "My job is gone, everything is gone, everything has burned down." Yevhen Zosin, 74, was in his apartment when the explosions came. He grabbed his dog and ran. Another blast threw them both backward from the shock wave. His apartment was destroyed, but they both survived.
The strikes reached beyond military or industrial targets. Ukraine's National Art Museum, which houses one of the country's largest and most important art collections, sustained damage—shattered windows, broken ceilings, debris scattered across floors. The culture ministry said staff were inspecting the building to assess the full extent of the harm, though the collection itself appeared to have been spared. Ukraine's foreign ministry, a historic building that had not been damaged since World War II, was hit for the first time in over eighty years. Foreign Minister Andrii Sybiha described it as having "unique architectural heritage" and said the damage came from nearby explosions. The government headquarters also took hits, with windows blown out, though no one was injured inside.
Russia's defence ministry confirmed the use of the Oreshnik and said the attack was retaliation for Ukrainian strikes on what it called civilian facilities on Russian territory. Days earlier, Russia had accused Ukraine of a drone attack on a student dormitory in Starobilsk, in the Russian-controlled Luhansk region, claiming it killed 21 people and wounded 42. Putin had vowed revenge. Ukraine denied the accusation and said it had struck a drone command unit instead. At an emergency UN Security Council meeting called by Russia, Ukraine's ambassador rejected the war crimes allegations as "pure propaganda."
Western leaders responded swiftly. Emmanuel Macron, France's president, condemned the strikes and said the use of the Oreshnik signalled "the dead end of Russia's war of aggression." Friedrich Merz, Germany's chancellor, called it a "reckless escalation." Kaja Kallas, the EU's foreign policy chief, said Russia had "hit a dead end on the battlefield, so it terrorises Ukraine with deliberate strikes on city centres." She described the Oreshnik deployment as "political scare tactic and reckless nuclear brinkmanship" and said EU foreign ministers would discuss increasing international pressure on Russia. Yvette Cooper, the UK foreign secretary, said Moscow's escalating assault "betrays its weakness."
The Oreshnik itself has become a symbol of the war's intensification. Putin has claimed the missile is impossible to intercept and that its destructive power rivals a nuclear weapon even when carrying a conventional warhead. Some Western analysts have expressed doubt about those claims, but the reality is stark: Ukraine has no air defence systems capable of stopping it. Zelenskyy said US and European partners had warned him hours before the latest attack that Russia was preparing to use the missile again. The question now is whether the international pressure Western leaders are promising will translate into anything that changes the calculus on the ground.
Citações Notáveis
It was a terrible night and there has never been anything like it in the entire war. My job is gone, everything is gone, everything has burned down.— Svitlana Onofryichuk, market worker in Kyiv, to the Associated Press
Russia hit a dead end on the battlefield, so it terrorises Ukraine with deliberate strikes on city centres. These are abhorrent acts of terror meant to kill as many civilians as possible.— Kaja Kallas, EU foreign policy chief
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does Russia keep using this particular missile if it's so difficult to intercept?
Because it works. Ukraine can't stop it, and that matters psychologically as much as militarily. It's a demonstration of capability—a way of saying there are weapons we have that you simply cannot defend against.
But the targets seem to be mostly civilian. Schools, markets, cultural institutions. What's the military logic there?
That's the question everyone's asking. Russia claims it's hitting command facilities and military infrastructure, but the evidence on the ground tells a different story. When you destroy a water facility or a market, you're not degrading military capacity. You're breaking the will of the population to stay.
The people we hear from—the market worker, the elderly man—they're leaving. Is that the point?
It appears to be. Displacement is a form of victory in this kind of war. If you can make enough people decide the cost of staying is too high, you've achieved something without necessarily winning on the battlefield.
Why would Russia feel the need to do this now? Macron and others said it signals a dead end.
Because the conventional war isn't going the way Moscow hoped. When you start using your most advanced weapons on civilian targets, it suggests you're running out of other options. It's desperation dressed up as strength.
What about the cultural institutions—the museum, the foreign ministry building? Is there a message in hitting those specifically?
Yes. Ukraine's identity is being targeted alongside its infrastructure. When you damage a museum or a historic government building, you're saying your history doesn't matter, your culture doesn't matter. It's psychological warfare layered on top of physical destruction.
Can Ukraine do anything about this?
Not directly. They can't shoot down the missile. What they can do is survive it, document it, and hope that the international pressure Western leaders are talking about actually materializes into something concrete—weapons, air defence systems, sanctions. But in the immediate term, they're absorbing blows they can't prevent.