Toaru Hikuushi e no Seiyaku:V6Part6

Part 20 (Part 6 of Volume 6)

Even if the enemy’s capital is captured, the war does not end.

The capital of the Hydrabard Confederation, Isrion, had already been occupied by the St Vault Empire. The empire’s flag fluttered over the Confederate Parliament, the central government building, and the public square. The expected fierce resistance during the Isrion invasion had not materialized, and the city was surprisingly taken with little effort.

Dizzy Osborne, the leader of the Org Party that ruled the Hydrabard Confederation, quickly declared Isrion an undefended city and retreated to the Karanakuta Fortress with the main forces, calling for a fierce resistance against the imperial forces from within its fortified underground defences. In the retreat, some Confederate soldiers and civilians looted and set fires, so by the time the Empire’s forces arrived, Isrion was an empty, desolate city.

The decisive battle had shifted to Karanakuta Fortress.

If the Empire took Karanakuta, they would be at the doorstep of the Akitsu Federation’s capital, Misato. This presented a prime opportunity for the St Vault Empire to subdue both the Hydrabard Confederation and the Akitsu Federation, the two nations vying for control of the Archipelago, in a short span of time.

The Second Archipelago War, which had expanded from the Hydrabard conflict, was entering its final phase.

Mid-November, Year 1349 of the Imperial Calendar.

Illia, alongside her comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron, was engaged in a battle for air supremacy over Karanakuta Fortress.

At an altitude of 4,600 meters, she gazed down at the battlefield, a sight she had become all too familiar with.

The silver-grey of the Uranos fighter jets and the blue-Gray of the allied Beo-Eagles intertwined with the red trails of tracer rounds and black smoke streaming from the fuselages. Dozens of aircraft from both sides flew through the gaps in the clouds, vapor trailing from their wingtips, as more than a hundred fighters clashed in the sky, turning it into a warzone.

This was Illia's fifty-fourth sortie.

Though the scene was no longer novel to her, today’s battle carried an unfamiliar weight of tension.

On either side of her flew Lulu and Lala Scott, the twin pilots who flanked her closely, their voices coming through the speakers, teasing as always.

“Hey Illia, you nervous?”

“New bird, huh? Don’t go breaking it now.”

Despite their usual banter, Illia allowed herself a small smile as she responded.

“I’ll be careful. It’s my first combat sortie in this bird. I’m counting on you two for cover.”

“Roger that. We’ve got your back.”

The twins waggled their Beo-Eagles’ wings in encouragement.

Illia steeled her expression and gripped the control stick of the St Vault Empire’s newest fighter jet, the Beo-Strike F1F.

The aircraft boasted a twin contra-rotating propeller system, turbo-prop engine, and a maximum output of 2,200 horsepower, far exceeding the Beo-Eagle’s 1,600 horsepower. According to the specs, it could achieve a top speed of over 850 kilometres per hour.

“Then again,” Lulu quipped, “we’re flying at a totally different level. Not sure if we can keep up.”

“It’s not our fault there are only two of those things. Blame Monroe for not bringing more,” Lala chimed in.

Despite the excitement around the Beo-Strike, it had yet to enter full production, and only two prototype units had been delivered to the Voltec Air Squadron. Colonel Abraham Monroe, the squadron commander, had assigned the two valuable aircraft to Illia and the Empire’s ace, Captain Leo Rosenmuller.

In the Voltec Air Squadron, the concept of "personal aircraft" didn’t exist. Typically, pilots would either scramble for the first available plane after receiving a sortie order or be assigned a craft in advance. However, the Beo-Strike was registered exclusively for Illia and Leo’s use, and they were even allowed to add nose art for easy recognition.

On the nose of Illia’s Beo-Strike, there was an illustration of a white wolf—a piece of nose art entrusted to her by her father, Karsten.

I can’t afford to mess up this battle.

Hiding in the clouds, Illia cautiously scanned the sky for her target, her focus sharper than ever.

She had spent a full week getting familiar with the aircraft, running training drills with Leo, Macguire, Lulu, and Lala, engaging in mock dogfights to hone her skills. But real combat was a different beast. If she became too absorbed in the fight and misjudged even the slightest manoeuvre, the plane could break apart mid-air. She still hadn’t fully mastered the balance between the engine’s power and the plane’s structural limits.

Stay calm. Be cautious.

Illia repeated the mantra to herself, forcing calmness into her mind. Once her target was locked, she quietly spoke.

“I’m going in.”

“Copy that.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, Illia,” Lulu added casually, the twins responding with their usual relaxed tone, despite the high-stakes situation. They knew from experience that staying calm brought out their best performance. They may not look it, but the pair had collectively downed over eighty enemy aircraft—formidable twins in their own right. Assigned to Illia’s flight by Leo, their role was to shield her from any immediate threats.

I’m responsible for their lives as well.

Illia reminded herself of this weight as she pressed the control stick forward.

The Beo-Strike rolled halfway, then nosedived toward the distant sea below.

With the ocean above her, Illia cut through the g-forces, her hawk-like eyes fixed on a trio of enemy Ion fighters below.

Her custom-tuned control stick was extremely light, thanks to the increasingly sophisticated hydraulic systems, making even rapid descents manageable for her strength. However, that same sensitivity meant that even a millimetre too much pressure on the stick could send the plane into a vertical dive, leading to catastrophic failure. The level of precision required was on a whole new level.

Just as she realized this, she opened fire with the aircraft’s main cannons.

The four 20mm cannons on the wings, coupled with the two 15mm cannons mounted on the fuselage, unleashed a barrage so powerful it startled Illia. The reverberation inside the cockpit and the shockwaves that resonated through her body felt like the roar of a colossal beast.

As the stream of tracers consumed her target, the enemy plane disintegrated into the air.

It wasn’t an explosion but more like the enemy had melted away into the sky.

Skimming past the wreckage of what had once been an Ion fighter, Illia found herself rapidly closing in on the ocean.

“Damn…!”

She listened closely to her plane, carefully trying to pull up. The Beo-Strike groaned as it lifted its nose, but she couldn’t slow her descent fast enough.

Deploy flaps…

With swift precision, she partially extended the landing gear to create drag, desperately pulling the nose up.

The Beo-Strike skimmed the water, kicking up spray and leaving a rainbow trail as it glided mere meters above the ocean.

What a wild beast…!

Illia gritted her teeth, fighting to control the stick as the aircraft tried to jerk upward. If there had been any enemy planes nearby, they would have targeted her the moment she lost speed during the climb. But pushing the stick too far meant colliding with the sea. The plane’s immense power, firepower, and speed made it a fearsome weapon, but controlling it came with significant risks. She realized how short her training period had been, but she couldn’t deny the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She wasn’t just battling the enemy—she was fighting to master her own machine.

But once I’ve mastered it…

After confirming the airspace was clear of enemies, Illia brought the nose up.

The entire view from her cockpit was filled with blue sky.

I’ll be invincible.

I can defeat Karnasion…

A buried sense of humiliation welled up from within her.

She had once faced Karnasion in a one-on-one dogfight over Air Hunt Island and had lost. As she parachuted down, helpless, Karnasion had circled around her, flying mockingly. Immobilized, Illia had endured the torment in silence, her pride shattered.

Even now, she occasionally had nightmares of Karnasion toying with her in the air, and waking from those dreams left her close to tears with frustration.

“Sorry, Illia, we can’t keep up!” Lulu’s voice crackled over the speakers.

“We’re too slow!” Lala chimed in.

Glancing behind her as she climbed, Illia saw the twins lagging far behind. Their planes simply couldn’t match the performance of the Beo-Strike, making it impossible for them to function as her wingmen.

In a chaotic dogfight, maintaining formation would be difficult anyway. Illia decided to engage the enemy solo.

“I’ll proceed alone. Stay safe, you two.”

“Roger that.”

“Take care.”

Breaking from the three-plane formation, Illia throttled up and dove into the thick of the battle, heading for the most intense clash between friend and foe.

The dual contra-rotating propellers roared as Illia's aircraft cut through the air, the g-forces pressing her against her seat as the speedometer neared 800 kilometres per hour. The frame of the aircraft rattled violently, pushing the structural limits of the machine, yet her instincts as a pilot yearned to discover just how far her new partner, the Beo-Strike, could go.

Slicing through the scattered clouds, she quickly maneuverer behind an Ion fighter. What was once a fearsome enemy aircraft, when she flew the Beo-Eagle, now appeared utterly insignificant.

It’s like a cow flying in the sky.

Had the enemy pilot heard her thoughts, they might have been more devastated by that comparison than by being shot down. The difference in aerial manoeuvrability between the Beo-Strike and the Ion was worlds apart.

With a clean burst from the Beo-Strike’s 20mm cannons, the Ion fighter was obliterated. As she scanned her surroundings, Illia spotted another enemy approaching from behind. Without descending or gaining speed, she effortlessly pulled into a steep climb, relying solely on the immense power of her engine.

Incredible!

Her heart raced as she glanced over her shoulder. The enemy fighter was nowhere to be seen, lost in the vast blue sea below. She levelled out at 6,000 meters, the engine still humming steadily despite the altitude, unlike the Beo-Eagle’s engine, which would have struggled for oxygen at such heights.

Despite the ongoing battle below, Illia couldn’t contain her excitement.

This is my partner.

It was the first time she had ever felt such an emotional connection to her aircraft. It wasn’t just a machine—it was something alive, something she cared for deeply, almost like family or a close friend.

I want to know more about you.

She spoke silently to the Beo-Strike, her eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield below as her predatory instincts as a pilot sharpened.

Illia’s eyes gleamed as she pushed the control stick forward, ready to dive toward her next target.

That evening, after a successful mission, Illia and her fellow Voltec Air Squadron pilots returned to their carrier, Raven. She smoothly landed her Beo-Strike on the deck, where Colonel Monroe was already waiting for her.

"I confirm six enemy aircraft shot down," Illia reported. "I engaged two more in passing but couldn’t confirm their destruction as I didn’t have the chance to look back."

After she recounted the details of her kills, the aviation staff began asking about the performance of the prototype Beo-Strike. Illia responded truthfully.

"It's an exceptional machine. It felt as though the enemy aircraft were barely moving. However, the controls are far more sensitive, and it requires more precision than I’ve ever needed before. But with time, I’m confident it will be no problem."

The aviation officers, listening intently, seemed pleased with her responses. The information she provided would be sent to the engineers for further refinement of the aircraft.

After about twenty minutes of questioning, Illia was finally dismissed. She saluted and made her way back to the Voltec Squadron's ready room, where her fellow pilots had already started celebrating the day’s victories.

"Illia! Come drink with us!"

"You were amazing out there! Bet you racked up a ton of kills today!"

Lulu and Lala, the ever-energetic twin pilots, threw themselves at her, and Illia caught them with a smile.

"Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your support."

The twins laughed brightly, waving her gratitude away.

"We didn’t do anything! We couldn’t even keep up with you!"

"But hey, let’s celebrate! We totally crushed it today!"

They handed her a large bottle of beer. Illia’s heart warmed as she remembered the times when the twins had risked their lives to protect her in combat. Though they acted carefree and boisterous, in battle, they were always willing to shield her without hesitation.

Fighting back the urge to cry, Illia smiled and responded, "Yes, let’s celebrate. To victory."

The other pilots, already tipsy, gathered around her, eager to hear more about her flight in the Beo-Strike. The room was filled with praise and admiration, much of which left Illia feeling embarrassed.

“It’s just that the aircraft is incredible, not me…”

“Nah, it’s all you, Illia! That skill is all yours!”

“You might just be the ace of the Voltec Squadron!”

The pilots continued their drunken adoration, some even making absurd requests. "Marry me!" one shouted, while another exclaimed, "Make me your slave!"

Illia, flustered, tried to deflect. "Please, stop calling me "Excellency"…"

The drunken pilots laughed and teased, suggesting that her new title should be spread across the newspapers so the whole Empire would call her that.

As Illia attempted to calm the chaos, she noticed someone entering the room: Leo Rosenmuller, the Empire’s ace and the other Beo-Strike pilot. The twins immediately greeted him.

“Hey, Captain! Where were you today? We barely saw you!”

Leo frowned, clearly irritated by their comments.

“I don’t like that plane,” he muttered. “The Beo-Eagle suits me better.”

He grabbed a bottle and drank deeply. The twins looked at him quizzically.

“But Illia was amazing in the Beo-Strike! She was taking down enemies left and right.”

Leo wiped his mouth and grimaced, unconcerned with their praise for Illia.

"The control stick is too sensitive for me. There’s barely any room for error. One wrong move, and the plane veers off course. I’d rather have more time to get used to it, but we don’t have that luxury."

It was rare for Leo to voice such complaints in front of his subordinates.

"Yes, the Beo-Strike requires delicate handling," Illia admitted. "If you try to manoeuvre it like the Beo-Eagle, you might end up pushing it too hard and causing structural damage."

Leo scratched the back of his head and sighed. "It’s a difficult plane to handle, but the higher-ups want us flying it. I can’t just switch back now. But I get it—the performance is on a different level. I’ll get used to it."

Despite his words, Leo’s usual brooding expression seemed even darker today. Perhaps it wasn’t just the plane; Leo understood the politics behind their deployment. The higher-ups cared more about flashy performances and propaganda than they did about practical considerations.

The squadron’s veteran, Mcguire, chimed in. "They probably want you and Illia flying the new planes because it looks good. You’re both national heroes. You and the daughter of the "King of the Sky." It’s all about appearances."

Leo’s scowl deepened. As the Empire’s top ace with seventy-four confirmed kills, he was constantly in the spotlight, and Illia, with her rapidly growing score of thirty-six kills, was right behind him. The military used their fame to boost morale, handing them the most advanced aircraft to dazzle the public.

“Well, we don’t have time for more training. We’re already at the front lines,” Leo muttered. “We’ll have to make it work.”

Illia understood Leo’s frustration. She, too, felt the Beo-Strike’s volatility and wished for more time to master it.

The twins, unfazed by the conversation, joked around with the other pilots.

"Looks like the Hydrabard Confederation is running out of steam," Mcguire said. "Tomorrow, we’ll probably take control of the skies over Karanakuta. Once that falls, the Akitsu Federation is next. I hear their pilots are tough."

The mention of the Akitsu Federation sent a sharp pang through Illia’s heart.

"Do you think we’ll see Kiyoaki and Kagura in the sky?" one twin asked. "I wonder if they’re still flying."

"Let’s hope we don’t have to shoot them down," another pilot added. "I’d rather not face them, but if we do, I won’t hold back."

The thought of facing her former comrades in battle made Illia’s legs tremble. She had once sworn to fight Kiyoaki with all her strength if they met in the sky, but now, as the reality drew closer, she wasn’t so sure she could go through with it.

Can I really shoot him down?

She asked herself, imagining the moment she would have to pull the trigger and aim the Beo-Strike’s cannons at Kiyoaki’s aircraft.

Could I fire?

The thought of his body being torn apart by machine-gun fire, of his remains smashing against the cockpit’s windscreen, sent a wave of pain through her chest.

No… I can’t.

There was no way she could do something like that, no matter the reason. Just imagining it made her heart feel like it was being scorched.

I can’t shoot Kiyoaki.

He had turned what she once thought of as a hellish sky into a place of joy.

They had fought side by side in mock battles, and she had marvelled at the beauty of his flying. His graceful manoeuvres had brought her a sense of wonder she had never experienced before. The more they flew together, the more she felt their bond deepen.

Without realizing it, Kiyoaki had become the centre of her thoughts. Every moment spent with him, speaking or flying, brought her a happiness she had never known. Even though they were now separated, the feelings remained just as strong.

I want to see him again.

I want to see you, Kiyoaki.

Illia's heart was screaming those words.

Not in the sky of battle, but in the sky of peace.

In a world where there is only the blue of the sky, the white of the clouds, and the deep navy of the sea—if she could soar side by side with Kiyoaki, it would be truly wonderful.

"Illia? You okay? You look super pale..."

Snapped out of her thoughts, Illia found Lulu looking up at her with a concerned expression. She blinked, shaking off the dreamlike vision that had filled her mind.

"Oh, no, I'm fine... I'm okay," she replied, forcing a smile to reassure her. But Lala soon joined, wearing the same concerned look as her twin.

"Really? You don't look good. Will you be alright tomorrow? I could take the Beo for you if you want," Lala offered, half-serious.

Illia shook her head, now aware of how deeply she had sunk into her fragile emotions without realizing it.

"No, I'm fine. Tomorrow is a real test. I'll give it my best," she said firmly, her tone steady.

The twins exchanged glances, then smiled, reassured, before turning back to the celebration.

For now, I fight alongside these comrades. That's all I need to think about.

Illia watched her fellow Voltec pilots laughing and drinking, the warmth of camaraderie filling the room. She scolded herself for sinking into sentimental thoughts.

I will walk this path with dignity.

She repeated the words silently, steeling her resolve as she shut out her lingering feelings of vulnerability.

This training doesn’t shy away from producing casualties.

Though the guns were loaded with non-lethal rounds, the seriousness of the pilots involved was no different from actual combat.

At an altitude of 4,500 meters, Kiyoaki gripped the control stick of his single-seat fighter, the "Murasame," his bloodshot eyes scanning the surroundings to assess the situation.

His side consisted of twelve naval aviation fighters marked with red lines on their fuselage and tail. The enemy, unmarked and clad in dark green, was the twelve fighters of the Keiken Guard Division. Twenty-four "Murasame" fighters split into two teams, firing specially modified rounds filled with dye in a large-scale mock aerial battle.

The skill level of the participating pilots far exceeded Kiyoaki's expectations.

They’re strong!

His silent exclamation was drowned out by the roar of the propellers. There was no time to marvel. He quickly assessed the surroundings and spotted three enemy planes tailing him, calling out to his wingmen.

"Three at two o'clock, high!"

"Roger that"

Dambazolik and Rensuke responded simultaneously over the speakers. The formation had to be maintained at all costs, or they’d face a swift and unfortunate end.

Kiyoaki gritted his teeth, trusting his wingmen to deal with the pursuing enemies while he focused on an attainable target, flipping his wings in a sharp manoeuvre.

The tension felt just like a real battle.

Keiken Guard Division, the Federal Navy Aviation Corps, and the Federal Army Aviation Corps. Though these elite pilots came from three different branches with their own pride and rivalries, they were now unified in the Kusanagi Aviation Corps. However, their competitive spirit was fierce. Some even attempted ramming when they were on the verge of losing, unafraid to risk a collision.

Losing meant becoming the subject of silent disdain and mockery from the other units. Given Kiyoaki’s status—his former membership in the Voltec Aviation Corps, his lineage as the son of Sakagami Masaharu, and his reputation as the "Future Ace" in major newspapers—many of his comrades targeted him. If he were shot down easily, ridicule and gossip would surely follow once they returned to the ground.

I can’t lose. I absolutely cannot afford to lose.

He pushed himself to the limit, enduring the g-forces as he entered a gruelling dogfight with the three enemy planes. It was a relentless struggle for survival, each pilot striving to get behind the other, enduring excruciating horizontal turns.

Dambazolik and Rensuke stayed close, flying in perfect formation with Kiyoaki. Since both sides flew the same "Murasame" fighters, there was no difference in performance. Victory would be decided purely by the skill, physical endurance, and mental toughness of the pilots.

I won’t lose, damn it, never!

As he pushed his physical and mental limits, straining to keep his enemy in sight, the pressure became almost unbearable. The intensity of the battle far exceeded anything he had experienced in real combat.

Just as Kiyoaki finally managed to push the enemy planes into his line of sight—

“Look out, above!”

Dambazolik’s shout pierced his eardrums.

"?!"

A flash of light streaked above him as he continued his horizontal turn.

Another threat!

Kiyoaki had been too focused on his dogfight. This was no ordinary battle—this was a mock combat with the intensity of real war. Someone had been watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike from above.

Damn it…!

Kiyoaki had no choice but to abandon his pursuit of the enemy in front of him, breaking away from the turn.

His speed dropped due to the sudden manoeuvre. An enemy plane, diving from above, unloaded a barrage of non-lethal rounds.

I’m done for!

Just as he braced for defeat, a shadow passed in front of him.

The sound of machine gunfire blended with the roar of the propellers.

A black figure darted past Kiyoaki’s view, diving away. The controller’s voice came through the speaker.

"Red Eight, down. Leave the airspace."

Red Eight was Dambazolik’s number. It appeared he had taken the hit meant for Kiyoaki.

"I’m sorry, Dambazolik."

"Just win, Lieutenant."

As Dambazolik swiftly left the airspace, Kiyoaki glared down at the enemy plane. It was now turning its attention toward him.

On its nose was the ferocious emblem of a white tiger.

Ryu Won!

Realizing that the ace of the Kusanagi Aviation Corps was now targeting him, Kiyoaki’s fighting spirit surged. If this had been real combat, Kiyoaki would have already lost his wingman.

Come on…!

Thanks to Dambazolik, Kiyoaki now had the altitude advantage. Ryu, flying below, was undeterred, climbing swiftly toward Kiyoaki despite his slower speed.

Don’t underestimate me.

Kiyoaki dove straight at Ryu, their planes closing in rapidly. Ryu’s silhouette expanded across his windscreen. Neither pilot showed any sign of dodging.

We’re going to collide.

Despite it being a training exercise, this was a fight to the death. Whoever flinched first would lose.

There was no time to deliberate.

Just as Ryu’s plane slipped out of his sight, Kiyoaki instinctively fired his 7.7mm machine guns and jerked the control stick to the right.

Ryu’s plane roared past his left side as Kiyoaki skidded through the sky. Glancing back, he saw Ryu turning to dive from above, having now gained the altitude advantage.

Kiyoaki bit his lip.

It wasn’t about skill. I lost in spirit.

Fearful of the fatal collision, Kiyoaki had dodged, giving Ryu the upper hand. Ryu, unafraid of death, had claimed superiority and was now on Kiyoaki’s tail.

Despite Kiyoaki’s desperate attempts to shake him, Ryu stayed firmly locked onto him, waiting for the moment to finish the fight, as if relishing his prey’s struggle. The frustration made Kiyoaki’s synapses feel like they were burning.

"Red Seven, down. Leave the airspace."

The controller announced Kiyoaki’s defeat. Ryu flipped his wings and flew off to hunt another target, leaving Kiyoaki to return to the floating fortress Suzaku with a face contorted in humiliation. A glance toward the training area revealed Rensuke being chased down by Ryu. The skill difference was clear. It seemed like all three members of Kiyoaki’s team would be taken down by Ryu today…

Back at Suzaku’s First Airfield, pilots from the Keiken Guard Division were celebrating enthusiastically, while those from the Federal Navy Aviation Corps wore grim expressions. Though it had been a mock battle, the pride of both units had been on the line, and the defeated were left feeling no less humiliated than in a real engagement.

Captain Maolong, Kiyoaki’s superior since the days in Odessa, greeted him with a stern expression.

"It’s a matter of spirit."

"...Yes, sir."

"It can't be helped. That kind of manoeuvring by Ryu, can you believe it? It's fine if he dies alone, but he almost dragged you, Sakagami, into it as well."

In the distance, at the centre of a cheering crowd, stood Ryu.

Using his hands to reenact the aerial manoeuvres, he basked in the afterglow of victory. Though distant, it was clear he was reenacting the scene of shooting down Kiyoaki. Ryu seemed to be revelling in having single-handedly chased down a young ace watched closely by their homeland.

The burning frustration scorched the pit of Kiyoaki's stomach. However, he raised his head.

"...I lost because I wasn't good enough. I'll get better. Much better."

It was as if he was saying it to convince himself. Though he'd been humiliated, he realized that if he continued his training in the Kusanagi Air Squadron, he could become much, much better. He was fortunate to be able to engage in mock aerial battles alongside such highly skilled airmen.

Imperial Year 1349, late November, Akitsu Federation's Flying Fortress Suzaku —

As a member of the Kusanagi Air Squadron, Kiyoaki spent his days preparing for the defence of Misato.

Mornings were dedicated to understanding the geography and weather patterns around Misato, and analysing the strength of the enemy, the Voltec Air Squadron. Afternoons were spent on flight training, with a focus on group mock combat. The mock aerial battles were so intense that in less than a month, nine people had died. The elite pilots honed their skills by pushing each other to their absolute limits.

During this period, Karanakuta Fortress fell under the fierce onslaught of the Imperial forces.

The leader of the Org Party, Dizzy Osborne, who had effectively controlled the Hydrabard Union Confederation, committed suicide, and the St Vault Empire finally succeeded in taking control of Hydrabard. Furthermore, Tsurugi Island, the last outer defence line of the Akitsu Federation, was conquered by the Imperial Navy and Air Force in less than a week, meaning that the Empire was now able to launch airstrikes on Akitsu Federation's mainland at any time.

For the Federation forces, their only hope was the Flying Fortress Suzaku.

This unsinkable aircraft carrier was equipped with ground radar and the Kusanagi Air Squadron, patrolling off the coast of Misato and establishing an early warning radar network. The plan was to intercept the Imperial fleet of large bombers flying from Karanakuta Fortress. By using Suzaku as a giant watchtower, the defenders would be able to detect incoming enemy aircraft early, allowing Misato to prepare for interception and evacuate civilians into air-raid shelters. Without Suzaku, they would be 30 minutes too late in detecting incoming aircraft, which would result in catastrophic bombing damage.

Day by day, the decisive battle over Misato drew nearer.

The fate of the war depended on the outcome of the battle between two elite air squadrons: the Voltec Air Squadron and the Kusanagi Air Squadron.

Kiyoaki spent every remaining moment refining his physical endurance and sharpening his piloting skills, yet he was still tormented by inner turmoil.

— Could I shoot down my comrades?

— Commander Leo. Lulu and Lala. Macguire and Leon.

— And Illia...?

No matter how many times he tried to imagine it, he couldn't pull the trigger. There was no way he could. No matter how grand the cause or the honour of being an airman, there was no reason that justified shooting down his cherished comrades with machine-gun fire.

— Then, what will I do?

The answer to his self-questioning was only one.

— I'll flee this country.

There was no other option. Desertion was a serious crime. If caught, he'd certainly face more than 30 years in prison, and might even be executed by firing squad. His family and relatives would be branded as "traitors" and ostracized by society.

But Kiyoaki had no family or relatives. So if he ran, it would only be his problem. In battle, he could pretend to be hit, make an emergency landing on some island, and never return. They would assume he died in action. It was much better than shooting down his comrades...

Yet, every time he thought of this, the promise he had made to Illia at their parting flashed through his mind.

"Someday, I'll see you in the skies again. I know it. I have to defeat you. It's my destiny."

At that time, with military police chasing them and with no time to spare, Illia had told Kiyoaki these words.

Kiyoaki had wanted to be sincere in response to Illia's resolve. That's why he made a vow.

"If we meet on the battlefield, I'll fight with everything I have."

Illia had smiled, through tears, and given him parting words.

"I respect you, Sakagami. I believe I must defeat you to become the King of the Skies. So one day, I will shoot you down."

Illia, the daughter of Karsten Kreischmidt, had dedicated her entire girlhood to becoming the King of the Skies.

She faced whatever harsh fate awaited her head-on, never choosing to run away.

Would it be sincere to break the vow and flee, leaving Illia behind?

Would Illia still respect Kiyoaki if he did that?

Of course not.

— Illia would surely be disappointed in me...

— From the depths of her heart, she would despise me...

Just thinking about that made him feel as if the ground beneath his feet would crumble, and he would fall into a bottomless pit.

— I have to keep my promise.

— I must not abandon my vow to the person I care about.

Kiyoaki's heart whispered this to him.

— No matter how painful, sad, or cruel the path may be.

— There is always meaning in fulfilling a promise.

Reason and morality were abandoned; his instinct told him this.

There was no end to his inner turmoil, and no answer came to him. Kiyoaki stopped thinking and focused on the group mock combat.

When he was in the air, fighting with his comrades, his exhausted and confused mind cleared, and he could focus solely on shooting down the enemy.

With each mock battle, Kiyoaki's performance improved.

At first, he couldn't even touch the seasoned junior officers, but eventually, he could fight on equal terms with them. As he became more familiar with their individual personalities and quirks, he was even able to shoot them down.

The bond between Kiyoaki, Dambazolik, and Rensuke was also refined over time. His two wingmen could now anticipate Kiyoaki's actions, and they flew in perfect formation, as if they were connected by an invisible thread.

By late November, three weeks after the formation of the Kusanagi Air Squadron, Kiyoaki and Ryu had achieved outstanding results in the mock battles. Kiyoaki had shot down 21 aircraft, while Ryu had shot down 23. The third-place pilot had shot down only 13, making it clear that Kiyoaki and Ryu were far ahead in terms of skill.

On November 30, the day of the first student evacuation from Misato, Kiyoaki and Ryu were suddenly summoned by Ogiya to the underground hangar of the flying fortress "Suzaku."

Wrapped in a cocoon of thick concrete defensive walls, under the dim glow of bare light bulbs, a silver machine they'd never seen before awaited Kiyoaki and Ryu.

"What... is this?"

The moment he laid eyes on it, Kiyoaki felt every hair on his body stand on end. The unknown aircraft exuded a ferocity and elegance that triggered the instincts of a pilot.

"This is the trump card of the current war. The single-seat fighter Ikaruga. It's equipped with a turboprop engine and coaxial contra-rotating propellers at the rear. Two 20mm cannons on the wings, and a 37mm cannon on the fuselage. The catalogue data says its top speed is 920 kilometres per hour. Supposedly subsonic, but I'd take that with a grain of salt."

Kiyoaki and Ryu approached the aircraft, examining the rare rear propeller and the "main gun" on the fuselage. By placing the propeller at the rear, it made it easier to aim the fuselage's weapons. The large 37mm cannon was oMisatously gaping. With this caliber of machine gun, it would easily slice through any large bomber.

"The paint job isn't finished yet, but is this a prototype?" Ryu asked.

Ogiya responded with a wry smile.

"Yeah. It's still in the testing phase. But we can't afford to wait any longer. Our intelligence division managed to get their hands on something like this. It's in St Vault's language, but Kiyoaki, you can read it, right?"

Ogiya handed Kiyoaki a newspaper in St Vault. On the front page was a large photo of a face he knew, alongside a picture of an unfamiliar fighter plane.

"Illia...!?"

With a puzzled Ryu standing beside him, Kiyoaki devoured the article.

It detailed how Illia and her aircraft played a significant role in the Karanakuta Fortress Offensive.

According to the article, Illia Kleinschmidt piloted the Imperial Army’s latest fighter, the Beo-Strike, and achieved confirmed kills of 22 aircraft over five sorties in the Karanakuta airspace battle. The "White Wolf" emblem on the nose of her plane had become a symbol of fear and respect among the South Archipelago's pilots, both friend and foe. In the upcoming battle over Misato, the "White Wolf" would undoubtedly sink its fangs into the Federation's weak air force and ruthlessly scatter them. By the time this war ended, the article suggested, a new "King of the Skies" might be born.

The fierce expression of Illia, standing beside a plane Kiyoaki had never seen before, etched a deep pain in his chest.

"It seems that Beo-Strike is also a turboprop. They forced the prototype into combat, and now our General Staff, not wanting to fall behind the Empire, rushed to bring this machine here…"

Ogiya glanced at Kiyoaki’s expression as he spoke, grumbling while asking:

"…But if you’re going to get used to it from now, ordinary pilots can’t handle it. I want you two to fly it… Can you do it?"

Ryu answered immediately.

"I’ll fly it."

With a daring smile on his lips, he was already climbing the ladder and peering into the cockpit.

"This excites me. It's a great machine. I want to fly it as soon as possible."

As a top-class pilot, Ryu clearly sensed the immense power the machine possessed.

Kiyoaki, too, could feel the overwhelming strength radiating from the Ikaruga. As a pilot, the desire to fly it was undeniable.

But if he were to fly it...

"…It means we’ll be fighting against Beo-Strike, doesn’t it?"

Ogiya scratched his chin and responded to Kiyoaki's question.

"Yeah. This is the only thing that can match that."

"……………………"

"Whether you’re in the Murasame or not, you’re going to end up fighting Beo-Strike. If that’s the case, wouldn’t you rather fly the better plane? Only top pilots can handle top machines."

Even as Ogiya tried to reassure him, Kiyoaki couldn't shake the bad feeling in his chest.

While Ryu, who was now peering into the instrument panel, suddenly looked down at Kiyoaki and said:

"Don’t fly it. The machine deserves better."

A cold voice echoed through the hangar.

"You know that woman, right? You won’t be able to shoot her down. Am I wrong?"

He pointed his chin at the picture of Illia and sneered.

"Don’t worry. I’ll shoot her down. With this big cannon, I’ll turn that pretty face and limbs into ground meat."

Rage filled Kiyoaki’s head. Without thinking, he retorted.

"You can’t do it."

"What did you say?"

"You won’t be able to beat Illia."

For a moment, Ryu glared at Kiyoaki in silence. Then, he descended the ladder and stood right in front of him.

"Say it again."

"Illia is stronger than you."

A cold fire flickered in Ryu's eyes. Kiyoaki could tell that, like him, Ryu’s thoughts were burning with anger.

"Get in."

"……………………"

"Get in, and let’s settle this. I’ll show you the difference in skill."

Not hiding his anger, Ryu drew close, his gaze filled with murderous intent.

"Get in. This won't be a team battle—it’ll be a duel. You can even load live rounds. I’ll shoot you down."

"Alright, enough. It’s good to have energy, but don't pick the wrong fights."

Ogiya stopped them. After catching his breath, Ryu glared at Kiyoaki again.

"…Don’t run away. Get in. We’ll settle this."

He spat the words out before turning on his heel and climbing back into the cockpit of the Ikaruga. Ogiya sighed, gave Kiyoaki a wry smile, and whispered quietly:

"…He’s like that. You won’t run, right?"

Kiyoaki could only nod silently. His emotions had gotten the better of him, and now he had no choice but to accept Ryu’s challenge.

"Voltec will probably be here in early December. Get used to this machine as much as you can by then. If we succeed, it could change the course of the war. Only you two can master this thing in the short time we have."

Ogiya patted Kiyoaki on the shoulder, leaving him no choice but to agree. He wondered if the reason Ogiya had called just the two of them here was to stoke their rivalry from the start.

While he had been more or less coerced into flying the Ikaruga, Ogiya was right: even if he stayed in the Murasame, he would still have to face the Voltec squadron. He couldn’t defy orders from his superiors, and at this point, it was best to accept the new aircraft.

"It’s settled, then. Get in right away. Time is short, so get used to it as quickly as possible."

The hangar doors opened, and light streamed in.

Mechanics and technicians in work uniforms entered the hangar and began explaining the basic specifications and piloting instructions for the Ikaruga to Kiyoaki. For now, they recommended that he stick to simple manoeuvres—climbing, descending, and gentle turns. While the test flights were mostly complete, there had been one fatality during testing. During a steep dive test, the pilot had been unable to pull out and crashed into the ground.

"Please, don’t break it."

The developer's desperate expression reflected the strained resources of the Federation military. Though they hadn’t wanted to deploy the prototype into combat, the General Staff had pressured them into it, and they had reluctantly brought it to the front lines.

Kiyoaki climbed the ladder and entered the cockpit of the Ikaruga. The instrument panel was pristine and brand new. The speedometer went up to 1,200 kilometres per hour, and the sight of it made his heart race. He tested the responsiveness of the control surfaces and signalled the crew. The mechanics began cranking the engine.

"Contact!"

The starter motor connected to the engine, and the rear-mounted coaxial counter-rotating propellers began to spin.

Even the sound of the engine starting was worlds apart from the Murasame. He checked the instruments for any abnormalities, gave the all-clear signal, and released the wheel blocks.

The Ikaruga rolled smoothly out of the hangar into the bright sunlight. Ryu’s Ikaruga followed behind. Kiyoaki taxied to the runway, receiving guidance from the control tower over the radio, and prepared for take-off.

As he opened the throttle, the Ikaruga accelerated smoothly. The landscape blurred past the cockpit, and once enough lift had built up, Kiyoaki pulled back on the control stick. His entire field of vision filled with blue sky.

"It’s light!"

That was his first impression. Kiyoaki felt as though he had effortlessly shrugged off gravity’s hold and soared into the sky. The Ikaruga spread its wings as if it were a creature born to live in the heavens.

──This is fun.

The thought rang in the back of his mind. The trivial events of the ground were forgotten, replaced by the endless blue sky, drawing him into a state of pure immersion in flight.

"Don’t climb above 8,000 meters."

The developer's voice came through the speaker again, clearly concerned. It seemed they were attached to the Ikaruga like it was their own child. Kiyoaki could understand that sentiment.

──Good girl.

Though he hadn’t been flying for long, he already liked the aircraft. The unobstructed view ahead, with no propeller in the way, made for a beautifully clear perspective of the sky.

"How’s it handling? Do you like it?"

This time it was Ogiya’s voice over the radio.

"It’s a great plane."

"Stay away from Ryu. We don’t need any unnecessary drama."

Kiyoaki scanned the skies. Ryu’s aircraft was nowhere to be seen. He decided not to worry about his hot-headed colleague and focused on getting used to the plane.

He practiced climbing, descending, and gentle turns. Everything felt smooth. Even at 7,000 meters with his oxygen mask on, the aircraft still had plenty of power to spare. Although the ground crew wanted him to fly conservatively, the pilot inside him urged him to push the plane’s capabilities further.

"I’m going to try a dive."

When Kiyoaki informed them, the developer responded:

"Keep the dive angle to 45 degrees and pull out at 1,000 meters. Anything steeper is dangerous."

"What was the angle when the fatality occurred?"

"55 degrees."

"Got it."

Kiyoaki noted the conditions and pushed the control stick forward.

The horizon quickly shifted above the canopy, and all that lay before him was the ocean. The sound of the wind tearing apart pierced his ears, and the force of the G’s pressed heavily against the front of his body.

The 1,000-meter dive ended in an instant. The response from the Ikaruga through the control stick seemed to say, "I can go further." But, prioritizing getting accustomed to the aircraft today, Kiyoaki eased the dive angle, gliding gently in a wide turn. When the developer asked for feedback, Kiyoaki answered honestly.

"It feels like I could go steeper without any problems."

"Let’s gradually work up to that. For now, focus on getting a feel for it. There's no need to push it to the limit right away."

It seemed the developer’s true concern was clear—it was still too early to deploy this plane in combat. The test phase was clearly insufficient, and Kiyoaki felt the need to control his instincts as a pilot to avoid pushing too far.

"!?".

Suddenly, a black shadow plummeted straight down in front of him.

A dangerously steep dive, on the verge of a crash. The culprit was obvious.

"Ryu…!!"

Kiyoaki watched in anger as Ryu’s Ikaruga disappeared far below.

The dive angle was at least 50 degrees, maybe even steeper. Ryu had dropped over 2,000 meters in a flash, then effortlessly pulled the aircraft back up. Instantly, the radio was filled with commotion.

"I told you not to do anything reckless, Ryu!!"

Ogiya’s angry voice pierced through the developer’s panicked cries, while Ryu calmly responded.

"Forgive my presumption, but I don’t think that was reckless. This machine still has more to give."

"You don’t know when it’ll break down, don’t push it to the limit all at once!!"

After a brief pause, Ryu replied in a soothing tone.

"It’s premature to say this is the limit. You mentioned a pilot died at 55 degrees, but forgive my boldness, I can only conclude that his skills were lacking. We need to get accustomed to this as quickly as possible, or it won’t be you getting shot down—it’ll be me. If we don’t take appropriate risks in the time we have, we’ll never know this machine’s limits."

Kiyoaki was taken aback. Were there really officers who spoke this way to their superiors? Yet Ryu’s argument made sense.

The radio fell silent for a moment. Ogiya, suppressing his anger, spoke quietly.

"…The Ikaruga is the hope of the Federation. If it can stop Voltec, the morale of the nation will soar. Misato won’t be burned to the ground. I won’t let you break it on a whim."

"……………………"

"Return to base immediately. Kiyoaki, you can continue flying a bit longer."

Reluctantly, Ryu’s Ikaruga headed back to the flying fortress Suzaku. Watching from 5,000 meters, Kiyoaki turned his focus forward again. Straightening up after being entrusted with what Ogiya called "the hope of the Federation," he concentrated once more on his mission. Indeed, if he could master the full potential of this aircraft, there was a sense that it could wipe out conventional fighter planes.

It was as if the kind of mythical air battles where a single hero splits entire armies in half could become reality. The Ikaruga seemed capable of that kind of power...

When he returned to base and entered the command centre, Ogiya greeted him with a grumble.

"Ryu’s good, but he’s too damn cocky. He causes trouble everywhere he goes."

"I don’t mind. I understand his thinking."

"He wants a one-on-one duel with you. What is he, a kid? And he’s an officer, for crying out loud."

"I’d like to try a one-on-one mock battle before we enter actual combat."

"Yeah, I get it. We don’t have much time, and once you get used to the plane, we’ll have to do a mock battle too. Anyway, take a break until tonight. Eat, sleep, and get ready. You’ll be doing night combat training with the others tonight."

Kiyoaki saluted and, after taking a rest, joined his comrades in the Kusanagi Air Squadron for night combat training. It was a difficult exercise, coordinating with the ground illumination teams and shooting down enemy bombers without being blinded by the beams of light piercing the night sky. By the time Kiyoaki returned to the barracks, exhausted, it was already past midnight.

Outside the window, the bright star Etica shone in the sky. Overlaying its brilliance was the innocent smile of Illia he had once seen on a sandy beach.

Etica was said to mean "ethics." Kiyoaki asked the star.

──When I meet Illia in the sky, what should I do...?

There was no answer. The star simply cast its cold, deep, silvery light upon the world.