A Certain Pilot's Promise, Vol. 6

A Certain Pilot's Promise, by Koroku Inumura

Illustrations by Haruyuki Morisawa

Main Characters

Sakagami Kiyoaki. Second Lieutenant in the Akitsu Federation Navy. Nose art: Black Rabbit.

Illia Kreischmidt. Voltec Air Squadron, St Vault Naval Air Force. Nose art: White Wolf.

Reiner Beck. S-Class operative raised by Zenon, a staff officer in the Urano Intelligence Division. Also known as "Hachidori."

Kagura Murasaki. Member of the Shining Sword Guard Corps, Shinmei Unit, Akitsu Federation.

Balthazar Grim. Captain of the Multi-Island Sea Division, Operations Headquarters, St Vault Naval Air Force.

Cecil Hauer. The lost princess of the former royal family of Sylvania, Elisabeth.

Mio Syira. Tarnished by accusations of being a Urano spy, she attends to Nina's personal needs.

Nina Viento. The prophesied "Wind Caller" from the creation myth. She is imprisoned in the capital of Urano.

Ryu Won. Special Second Lieutenant in the Akitsu Federation Navy.

Jadamba Dambazolik. Second Class Airman in the Akitsu Federation Navy.

Nyutabaru Rensuke. Second Class Airman in the Akitsu Federation Navy.

Karsten Kreischmidt. Father of Illia, known as "The King of the Sky" for his mastery of the Karsten Turn.

Captain Leo Rosenmuller. Commander of the Voltec Air Squadron, St Vault Naval Air Force. Ace pilot of the Imperial Army. Nose art: Lion.

Illustrations

World State

Part 15 - The Second Multi-Island Sea War (Continued) (Part 1 of Volume 6)

Every time I fly through the sky, my heart freezes.

Kindness, compassion, the desire to care for others and be grateful—all those human emotions are carried away by the high-altitude currents. In their place, a core of steel pierces through, treating everything in the airspace as inanimate objects to be captured and eliminated.

I am not killing people.

I am destroying the murderous machines that rain bombs indiscriminately on women, children, and the elderly living on the ground.

To complete the demolition work in the sky without fail, one must completely discard any impurities of humanity from their consciousness.

If you show mercy, in the next moment, you will be blown apart. All the effort you've poured into honing your mind, body, and spirit to their absolute limits will scatter like flowers in the fire, returning to zero as they are torn apart and blown away. The enemy, breaking through the wreckage, will kill more comrades and burn the cities where non-combatants live with a smirk on their face.

I am not a saint who can allow such things.

To keep all the people living in my homeland alive, I shoot down the enemy. That's all I need to think about.

Gripping the control stick of the Akitsu Federation Navy's single-seat fighter, the "Murasame," Sakagami Kiyoaki becomes a molecule of steel as he pursues the enemy aircraft.

The blue-Gray plane blends into the ocean below as it desperately tries to escape. It's the same St Vault Naval Air Force single-seat fighter, the "Beo-Eagle," that I was piloting just a month ago.

Even though I try not to think about it, my eyes inevitably go to the tail. The plane wobbles, and I spot a single yellow stripe. It's the mark of the St Vault aircraft carrier fighter squadron. The planes belonging to the strongest fighter squadron in St Vault, the Voltec Air Squadron, which I was once a part of, have three stripes—white, red, and blue—on the tail.

──It's not the Voltec Air Squadron. The enemy is a carrier-based aircraft.

I locked the blue-Gray enemy plane into the gunsight.

Shaking off any lingering softness in my heart, Kiyoaki squeezes the triggers for both the 20mm cannon and the 7.7mm machine gun simultaneously.

The roar of the machine guns shakes the plane as red tracer rounds streak toward the enemy.

As I tilt the control stick to the side and begin to turn, I catch a glimpse of the flaming enemy aircraft disappearing off to my rear-left.

There is no pain in my chest. There is no guilt over killing someone. There is no joy, no pleasure, no sense of achievement.

──Next.

It's like plucking the feathers off one bird and moving on to the next. That’s the closest feeling Kiyoaki has right now.

Altitude: 5,700 meters. I half-roll, looking up at the ocean, and take in the aerial battlefield from a bird's-eye view.

Against the bright blue sea background, the green-coloured fighters of the Akitsu Federation Navy and the blue-Gray carrier-based planes of the St Vault Naval Air Force are clashing near the coast of Messus Island. My eyes scan the entire airspace, searching for the enemy bomber squadron, but I can't see them. I spot my next target, turn my body, and dive like a hawk.

The helpless prey grows larger in the view from my windscreen.

Confirming the single yellow stripe on the tail, I close in to a sure-fire distance and pour 20mm cannon fire into the target.

I pass the new fireball as I continue my dive, and just as I spot my beleaguered ally, I latch onto the tail of the enemy aircraft that was pursuing them.

The enemy, focused entirely on peering through their sight, doesn’t notice Kiyoaki at their rear. I open the throttle, thinning the distance between us, and after confirming no enemy aircraft are behind me, I aim the 7.7mm machine guns at the enemy's tail.

The yellow stripe breaks apart into pieces, and the enemy aircraft loses control, flailing wildly like a kite with its string cut. After downing three planes in about fifteen minutes since the dogfight began, Kiyoaki calmly searches for the next bird to pluck.

──Eliminate the foreign objects from the sky.

With only that resolve buried deep in his gut, Kiyoaki soars through the battlefield.

The year 1349 of the Imperial Calendar, early October, Messus Island, Odessa.

At the Akitsu Federation Navy's first airfield in Odessa, Colonel Li Koutsu, the base commander, looked suspiciously at Kiyoaki as he received the battle report in the nearby air command post.

“You say you shot down five planes in that last dogfight?”

“That’s how it appeared to me.”

“If I were to take your report as is, that would make twenty-five planes in the last ten days alone. That’s more than our ace pilots.”

“I must be mistaken. The battle verification planes’ reports are more accurate. I don’t care about my number of kills, so please estimate the results at your discretion, Commander.”

Kiyoaki replied matter-of-factly, causing Commander Li to grunt in displeasure. After saluting, Kiyoaki left the commander's presence and walked toward the barracks.

Two young airmen, faces tense with nervousness, ran up from behind and stood stiffly to the side of Kiyoaki’s path. They both had sturdy builds, with flat faces and thick, short limbs—features typical of westerners. One of the boys raised his voice.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami! I am Second Class Airman Jadamba Dambazolik! I watched your air battle from the ground just now!”

The other, a slightly more refined-looking young man with long limbs and supple muscles, also saluted with his chest puffed out.

“I-I am also a Second Class Airman, Nyutabaru Rensuke! I am deeply impressed by Second Lieutenant Sakagami’s skill!”

They both seemed young, probably around seventeen or eighteen, younger than Kiyoaki.

Kiyoaki stopped and returned the salute, his expression unchanged, and responded.

“Thank you. But there are plenty of people better than me.”

He said only that, in a tone devoid of emotion, and then left the two standing there as he walked toward the barracks.

Dambazolik and Rensuke exchanged glances and quickly ran ahead to stand stiffly by the side of the path again.

“With all due respect, I-I would like to become your disciple, Second Lieutenant Sakagami!!”

“I’ll do anything you ask!! Please teach me the techniques of aerial combat!!”

Kiyoaki stopped and cast a glance at the two.

“There are many excellent airmen among the non-commissioned officers. You should ask them.”

Dambazolik pursed his lips and shook his head.

“There are! There are, but…”

“The way they teach is… well…”

Both hesitated, unable to express something. But Kiyoaki could understand what they were trying to say. It was about the bad customs within the Akitsu Federation military.

“Commander Li has forbidden corporal punishment.”

“Yes! It is forbidden, but…”

Rensuke answered with that, his expression serious as he stared straight ahead, his eyes unwavering.

Though it is forbidden, it seems corporal punishment is still practiced in the non-commissioned officers’ barracks.

I do feel sorry for them.

"I'm not that good, and I'm not that important. You should ask someone else."

With those curt words, he left the two behind and returned to the officers' barracks.

He sat at his desk and started reading the instruction manual for officer pilots. He needed to learn the unique methods of the Akitsu Navy, which differed from the St Vault Naval Air Force. While he was drilling the contents into his head, an officer he had known for a long time entered the barracks and spoke to Kiyoaki.

"As expected of the son of Master Sakagami, Kiyoaki. That air battle just now blew my mind."

Kiyoaki immediately stood up straight.

"Colonel Ogiya...! I’m honoured."

"Relax. I just came to chat. But seriously, that brat who used to fly planes around without permission has really grown up..."

Odessa Air Squadron’s operations staff officer, Colonel Ogiya Haruhiko, laughed heartily as he sat down in the chair next to Kiyoaki, lighting up a cigarette from the rations. He blew a cloud of purple smoke and motioned for Kiyoaki to sit down again. This staff officer, now forty-one years old, was a veteran who had also participated in the First Multi-Island Sea War.

"How many air battles have you been in since returning here?"

"Twenty-two times."

"How many kills?"

"Seventeen confirmed, and fifteen unconfirmed."

Ogiya whistled.

"That’s a lot of unconfirmed kills."

"Yes. The commander even called me a liar earlier."

Kiyoaki answered with a bitter smile.

"We do have battle verification planes, but they’re not perfect. The numbers are somewhat arbitrary. But looking at how you fight, I feel like you should have more confirmed kills."

Ogiya said this and shot Kiyoaki a serious look for just a moment. Kiyoaki could only respond with another bitter smile.

"I don’t care much about the number of kills. It doesn’t really matter to me."

Since childhood, Kiyoaki had known Ogiya well and often practiced piloting aircraft secretly with him, which made his tone naturally more casual.

"It matters. The number of kills determines a pilot’s status. That’s why false reports are so common..."

Ogiya scratched the back of his head in frustration. After a dogfight, the number of kills was tallied based on the pilot's verbal report to the air command. As a result, dishonest pilots could inflate their kill counts to boost their standing. Although the battle verification planes flew over the battlefield to measure the results, miscounts were frequent. In the end, kill counts were often unreliable.

"But you’re different. From what I’ve seen, you’ve taken down more than seventeen. In just this past month alone, haven’t you surpassed thirty?"

Ogiya’s sharp gaze intensified.

──By my count, it’s thirty-two.

Kiyoaki murmured this in his heart but shook his head.

"Even seventeen is more than enough. I don’t pay it much mind."

"You’re being modest. The top brass at the air command are talking about you, you know. They say we’ve got a really strong officer pilot."

"It’s an overestimation. I’m more surprised they put me on the front lines so quickly."

A week after escaping the Odin fortress with Kagura Murasaki, Kiyoaki was assigned as a Second Lieutenant to the Odessa Air Squadron on Messus Island. After conducting a brief inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the cadet who had been trained in enemy territory, St Vault, the navy command swiftly commissioned him as an officer and sent him to a strategically important stronghold. Kiyoaki couldn’t comprehend their reasoning.

"Well, one reason is that we simply don’t have enough skilled officer pilots. The other reason is… they want you to become a hero quickly. As the son of Master Sergeant Sakagami Masaharu, the hero of the First Multi-Island Sea War, they believe you have that potential."

Ogiya laughed joyfully as he observed Kiyoaki’s troubled expression and gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"The higher-ups must be thrilled that their plan worked. It would have been bad if you’d hesitated to shoot down Imperial aircraft, but you’ve been taking them down left and right this past month. You’re not still attached to St Vault, are you?"

"...I’m a soldier. I don’t bring personal feelings into this. I was able to study military science in St Vault thanks to the tax money of Akitsu citizens. Besides, as I was leaving, my squadron commander told me not to hold back in battle."

In the back of Kiyoaki’s mind, the words of Captain Leo Rosenmuller, commander of the Voltec Air Squadron, echoed. His admiration for Leo had not faded.

Ogiya crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded deeply.

"That’s the spirit of chivalry. There are plenty of admirable soldiers over there, too. But we’re the descendants of samurai; we have to fight proudly."

After sharing his thoughts on the future of the war and the internal affairs of the Odessa Air Squadron, Ogiya stood up.

"Well, I’ve got to get going. You’re done for the day, right? I’ll lend you my bike. Why don’t you go visit the graves?"

"Is that okay?"

"You’ve only gone once, right? Your father might get lonely. Go show him you’re doing well."

"Thank you so much!"

Kiyoaki bowed his head in joy. After leaving the barracks with Ogiya, they came to a military motorcycle covered in dust. Ogiya’s quarters for senior officers weren’t too far away, so he must have brought the bike just for Kiyoaki to use.

After receiving the key and waving at Ogiya’s retreating figure, Kiyoaki mounted the bike and started the engine.

Compared to the beloved bike he used to ride in St Vault, this one had half the displacement, an old engine, and was clearly poorly maintained, but in the Akitsu Federation, it was still a luxury item that most commoners couldn’t afford. As he stepped on the gear, it belched a large cloud of black smoke before it started to move.

Once he got the feel for the shifting, he steered onto the bumpy road and headed toward the old city of Odessa.

The familiar scenery of his homeland passed by on both sides, though signs of destruction were vividly apparent everywhere. The abandoned rice paddies were dried up, and the livestock barns, silos, windmills, and irrigation systems in the gently sloping pastures and farmland were mostly destroyed. The area where a village once stood was now bare, and half-burnt wooden houses stood solitary, with their charred beams sticking out of the ground. Wildflowers clustered beside them, and Kiyoaki stopped the bike to pick some flowers for the graves.

He had spent his childhood on this island, and many colourful, happy memories remained. However, the current state of his homeland, which had become a frontline in the Second Multi-Island Sea War, filled him with an oppressive greyness and the stench of death. The further he rode, the heavier the weight of melancholy settled upon him.

After crossing two mountain passes, he could see the old city in the distance beyond the mountain range. It was about thirty kilometres from the barracks where Kiyoaki was stationed, making it difficult to visit without a vehicle. A month ago, when he had first been assigned to the island, he had hitched a ride on a truck heading to the old city to visit his family's graves, but finding a ride back had been a struggle. The Akitsu Federation military had fewer transport vehicles compared to the St Vault military, and the roads were underdeveloped, making even short trips difficult.

──This country is poor...

Looking at his homeland again through the eyes of someone who had studied in St Vault, the stark reality hit him hard. The appearance of the city, the people's clothing, the infrastructure—everything was inferior to St Vault.

──And the military equipment too...

He couldn’t deny that fact. After spending two years studying abroad in St Vault, forming friendships across borders, and coming to love and respect that country, he still couldn’t erase his love for his homeland.

──Why are we fighting...?

Meeting the people of St Vault had made him realize how simplistic it was to label one side as good and the other as evil. People in both St Vault and Akitsu had good and bad qualities; they were just normal people. Yet, the two nations were pointing across the great divide at each other, branding the other as an evil empire while shouting about their own righteous causes, sending millions of young men to the battlefield.

No matter how much they dress it up with beautiful rhetoric, the true purpose of the war is to bring another country’s government under control. By doing so, they can ensure their own country’s safety, expand their influence, and increase their capital.

In a battlefield where bows and swords were used, the benefits of subjugating and plundering the enemy were substantial. The budget required for war was relatively low, and by seizing the enemy’s wealth, land, and people, the investment would be more than recouped.

But in modern warfare, which requires vast amounts of aircraft, tanks, and weapons of mass destruction, the resources expended are on a completely different scale. Nations must issue government bonds to fund the war, but even if they win, the losses will far outweigh the gains. The national economy, burdened with massive debt, will be driven to collapse.

Both nations are throwing all their resources, wealth, and human lives into the abyss. That’s all Kiyoaki can see.

──What is a nation, anyway...?

Even the grand question of "what is a nation?" crept into his mind. As soon as Kiyoaki realized it, he brushed the doubt away from his thoughts. How could a mere soldier entertain such lofty concerns? He scolded himself.

Right now, he was a soldier fighting for the Akitsu Federation. He had studied in St Vault to bring the knowledge gained back to the Federation, fully aware that one day he might have to face his friends as enemies. Just as he had sworn to Leo and Illia at their parting, Kiyoaki believed the most honourable path was to fight St Vault’s knights head-on, as a proud samurai, with dignity and fairness.

As he descended the winding road in the clear autumn sunlight and passed through the thick grove, he arrived at the coast, where the remains of his family’s home once stood in the old residential district.

Five years ago, when Kiyoaki was fourteen, he had erected a piece of building material in place of a gravestone, which still stood, though it had decayed over time.

The collapsed house was now overgrown with weeds, but the area around the gravestone was still clean from when he had tidied it during his last visit.

The sun was setting, and Kiyoaki’s long shadow stretched over the three gravestones. The sky, on the verge of turning red, sent a silent breeze that softly ruffled his hair.

Kiyoaki stood still, holding the flowers he had picked.

Beneath this ground lay his father, mother, and sister, all killed by Urano.

The frustration and anger of that time, when he could do nothing but watch Urano's attack, returned to him. If only he had possessed the skills to pilot a fighter back then, his family wouldn’t have been lost so easily.

“I’m nineteen now, Dad, Mom, Sister. I’ve become a full-fledged pilot for the Akitsu Federation Air Force.”

As he spoke to the gravestones, a gentle breeze blew through. In the wind, there was a fleeting feeling, as if someone familiar were near.

Upon returning to the Federation, after undergoing practical and academic evaluations, Kiyoaki had been recognized as a full officer pilot. During his time in St Vault, he had only been a cadet, so he had not yet been certified as a pilot, but due to the Akitsu military’s shortage of personnel, they seemed desperate to get new pilots into the battlefield, and Kiyoaki had passed the exam with surprising ease.

“I’ll do my best to ensure that no one living on this island has to suffer the same fate as you, Dad, Mom, or Sister.”

As Kiyoaki spoke to his lost family, he organized his thoughts. The life of a soldier, constantly facing death, had gradually numbed his emotions, making it easy to forget why he had become a soldier in the first place and what he was fighting for.

He knelt, put his hands together in prayer, and wished for his family’s peaceful rest before standing up.

“I’ll come again. I’ll be on this island for a while, so I can visit as often as I like.”

With that farewell, he mounted the bike and left his family’s resting place behind.

There was somewhere else he wanted to go. During his previous visit, he hadn’t had the means of transportation to reach the other important place on this island.

On the way, he passed by what used to be a field of canola flowers. Now overgrown with weeds and unrecognizable, the memory of a girl laughing in the bright summer sun was still vivid behind his eyelids.

“If you become a pilot, you have to take responsibility.”

Wearing a tiara made of canola flowers, the twelve-year-old girl had said that to Kiyoaki.

“Don’t forget the promise! Swear it on this tiara!”

Twelve-year-old Kiyoaki, though shy and hesitant, made a vow to the girl.

“I swear on this tiara, I’ll marry you.”

The promise, made without understanding its meaning, now squeezed his heart with unbearable intensity, seven years later.

As he sped along, he looked up at the sunset sky.

“Mio.”

He called out the name of someone whose whereabouts were now unknown.

“I want to see you.”

The image of Mio, as she had been, enveloped him and blended into the landscape. The longing, the pain, the urge to scream pressed up from his diaphragm, but Kiyoaki suppressed the burning impulse and sped up toward the hilltop.

Once, the Sakagami family’s vineyard had been here. From the hillside, the view of Odessa stretched before him.

He parked the bike on the cracked, barren land and gazed out at his dimming hometown.

Five years ago, two weeks after Urano's sudden assault on Odessa.

Kiyoaki had stood on this very hill with Mio, gazing down at the burned city, and had sworn to dedicate his life to a singular goal.

“I will destroy the Urano, The Sky Clan.”

“I have to obliterate Urano and create a world without war. I will do it with my own hands.”

It was a dream too grand for a fourteen-year-old boy.

But he still held on to that dream.

In fact, it burned more strongly now than it did back then.

And the driving force behind that dream was Mio.

“I will take you back.”

He layered this new resolve onto his lifelong dream.

No matter how long it takes, he would fulfill the promise he made to Mio here on this hill.

“I’ll come to you. Someday, I swear.”

These words of determination rose from a heart that bled from the pain of loss.

──I can’t let things end like this.

──I will go to Pleiades.

──I will burn down the capital of Urano and take Mio back…!

To achieve such a vast dream, there was no choice but to put forth the best effort in the place where he had been assigned and climb the ladder one step at a time. It was slow, but it was the most certain way to reach his goal. Even though he now stood against St Vault, he could still give everything for the sake of that goal.

Bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun, Kiyoaki gazed down at his homeland and reaffirmed the path he must follow.

The next morning, the enemy carrier aircraft launched another raid.

Rushing out of the standby area, they raced to get into their planes first and took off.

Dogfights had become part of the daily routine on the real front lines. Every day, many enemies were shot down, and many allies were shot down in turn. Even the slightest moment of carelessness could be the end of your life. Living on the edge of life and death, with nerves constantly on edge, a single day on the front lines was so intense that it felt like a year compared to living in peace. It was said in hushed tones among the Odessa Air Squadron that if you survived a month, you were considered a veteran. Kiyoaki was approaching that one-month mark.

It felt like years had passed since he was assigned to the squadron. The more he fought with the Odessa Air Squadron, the further his memories of his time in St Vault seemed to fade into the distance.

But there was no time for sentimentality.

There was only one thing to do in this sky.

──I am a machine that shoots down the enemy.

Now, even without conscious thought, that idea filled his mind. There was no room for unnecessary pity or sympathy.

With a calm expression, he crept up under the enemy and cut them down with a single shot from his 20mm cannon.

The enemy pilot probably had no idea what had happened as they were suddenly engulfed in flames.

Piercing through the shattered debris, Kiyoaki soared higher into the sky.

There was no excitement. He simply looked down with cold eyes. One of his allies was being pursued by three Beo-Eagles.

He dove straight down, locked onto the lead plane, which seemed to be the squadron leader, and zoomed in.

He squeezed the trigger of the 20mm cannon, blasting the enemy plane apart, and flew past the wreckage. The remaining enemy planes scattered left and right in confusion, staring at the sudden death of their leader.

Just then, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami!! Thank you so much!!”

He could hear a slight western accent in the short message. Glancing to the left, he saw the pilot of the friendly plane that had been pursued waving at him. It was Jadamba Dambazolik, the Second Class Airman who had asked to be his apprentice yesterday. Kiyoaki raised his hand in response, then turned again to search for his next target.

All distractions faded away. Only the pure will to fight sharpened his mind. Kiyoaki became one with his single-seat fighter, the "Murasame," and continued to drive his steel claws into the enemy aircraft.

That day, Kiyoaki shot down four planes. However, the battle verification plane recorded only two confirmed kills for the rookie Second Lieutenant who had returned from St Vault. Kiyoaki, unbothered by this, completed his report and was walking back to the barracks.

“It's been a while, Second Lieutenant Sakagami.”

Suddenly, someone called out to him from behind.

When he turned around, he saw a familiar woman looking at him with a serious expression.

“Ah… It's been a while, Utaguni.”

It was Utaguni Tokiwa, a reporter from one of the major newspapers of the Akitsu Federation, the Akitsu Daily News.

“Thank you for your help the other day. Thanks to you, the article received a great response.”

Wearing glasses and a suit, Utaguni thanked him in a businesslike tone without even a smile.

“…No, not at all.”

Kiyoaki felt uneasy around her. Two years ago, Utaguni had come to interview him at the Air Hunt Officer Academy, but the interview seemed only to push her agenda. She repeatedly asked intrusive questions to Illia, who was present, and eventually, Kiyoaki had to leave the interview with Illia in tow. The article she later wrote exaggerated their mock air battle, presenting it as if it were a proxy war between St Vault and the Akitsu Federation.

“…What brings you here today?”

Kiyoaki asked cautiously, and Utaguni responded coldly, as if it were the most natural thing.

“I’m planning a special feature on you, Second Lieutenant Sakagami. I’ve come to meet with the public relations officer of the Odessa base. I expect to get permission for the interview soon.”

Kiyoaki felt disheartened. He didn’t want to become the subject of one of Utaguni's articles. Naturally, his tone became colder.

“…And what are you planning to do with me this time?”

“I’m just here to document your natural state. The son of a former ace pilot returns to his destroyed hometown and contemplates what it means to fight and kill his foreign friends—that's what the article will focus on.”

Utaguni’s manner of speaking irritated him. Perhaps she was deliberately trying to provoke her subjects in order to expose their true feelings.

“…Feel free. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use too much exaggerated language. Excuse me.”

Kiyoaki curtly ended the conversation and turned his back on Utaguni. He felt her cold gaze following him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

──I’ve run into someone I really didn’t want to see. I’d rather not get involved with her...

Being the son of the ace pilot Sakagami Masaharu meant that people had excessive expectations of him, which was frustrating. The thought of Utaguni manipulating his image, just as she had before, was also deeply unpleasant. He didn’t want to experience the bitterness of the last interview again, but even if he tried to avoid her, she would likely invade his personal space without hesitation. Having been thrust into the spotlight in St Vault as one of the “Seven of Eriadore,” he understood all too well how relentless the media could be.

What a hassle… As he continued walking, two more young men appeared in front of him, their faces tense with anticipation.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami!! I can’t express how grateful I am that you saved my life earlier!!”

Dambazolik stood with his back straight, shouting at the top of his lungs, loud enough to hurt Kiyoaki’s ears.

“Second Lieutenant Sakagami is truly our ideal leader!! Please, we humbly request to serve under you as your wingmen!! We’ve come to ask again!!”

Rensuke, his cheeks flushed with excitement, echoed in an unnecessarily loud voice. Feeling uncomfortable, Kiyoaki stopped walking and glanced back. Sure enough, Utaguni was watching them closely, her glasses glinting.

With a sigh, which he made sure the two could hear, Kiyoaki looked at Dambazolik.

“The selection of wingmen is up to Captain Maolong. You should ask him. It’s not something I can decide.”

When he brushed them off, Dambazolik’s face grew even more tense, and he was at a loss for words.

“Second Lieutenant…!! We want to become stronger in the air, that’s our only wish!! If we serve under you, we can refine our skills even more and protect you in battle...!!”

Rensuke spoke desperately, almost pleading. From the way they were acting, Kiyoaki suspected that these two had likely been subjected to unreasonable treatment by their non-commissioned officers.

The Akitsu Federation, true to its name, was a federal state formed by the union of several small nations and communities. In order to counter large countries across the Multi-Island Sea, the cities, small nations, and communities on the same continent chose to coexist under one government. However, the forced unification of so many disparate powers had created various tensions within the military, leading to frequent clashes rooted in ignorance, intolerance, and discrimination.

Broadly speaking, the main groups within the military were the Easterners like Kiyoaki and Ogiya, the Centralites like Colonel Li and Captain Maolong, and the Westerners like Dambazolik. There had been over a thousand years of rivalry between these groups over the continent’s hegemony, and the negative emotions ingrained in their bones had not yet been fully extinguished. Ethnic conflicts stemming from these old grudges often flared up within the military. It was possible that both Dambazolik and Rensuke were frustrated with these tensions. They might have hoped that, since Kiyoaki had returned from St Vault and wasn’t steeped in the bad customs of the Akitsu military, they could train with him purely to improve their dogfighting skills.

“…Sorry, but I don’t have anything to teach you. I’m just trying to survive myself.”

Kiyoaki said coldly, keeping his expression as mechanical as possible.

“P-Please…!!”

“…Please stop this. I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention from my superiors.”

He spoke even more coldly this time and quickly walked away from the two. He could feel their lingering emotions clinging to the back of his neck, but he pushed forward and returned to the officers’ barracks.

He immediately sat down at his desk and opened the flight manual. There was still a mountain of things he needed to study, and he really didn’t have time to deal with Dambazolik and Rensuke.

──Is that all?

As Kiyoaki studied the Akitsu Federation’s unique air combat formation manual, a sudden question arose from within him.

──Is that really the only reason I can't make them my wingmen?

A voice echoed from deep inside, questioning himself.

He looked out the window at the early autumn sky.

He already knew the answer to his own question.

The reason he didn't want to make those two his wingmen wasn’t because it was beyond his authority or because he was too busy studying.

The real reason was something entirely different.

──I don’t want to increase the number of people who matter to me any more…

In this era, in these circumstances, if he were to add more important people to his life, it would only bring more sorrow.

The parting with Mio. The parting with Illia. The parting with Balthazar, Cecil, and Reiner. The parting with his wonderful comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron.

The more he met amazing people, exchanged words, and felt their presence grow heavier in his heart, the deeper and greater the sorrow of parting became. At night, when he was overwhelmed by loneliness, sadness, and the irrationality of it all, his heart would scream, calling out the names of those no longer with him. No matter how far he reached, no matter how loud he shouted, no matter how fast he ran beneath the stars after bursting out of the barracks, he could never reach Mio, Illia, or any of the people who meant so much to him.

He didn’t want to add anyone else important to his life anymore. If he accepted them as his wingmen, before he knew it, those two would surely become important to him. The weight of the people he already held dear would fade, and the weight of the people living right in front of him would grow.

He couldn’t bear that.

He knew it was a sentimental, naïve thought, but within himself, there was no longer room to hold onto anyone irreplaceable. If he were to increase the number of important people, he feared he might push aside those he had once cherished.

That’s why he no longer wanted to actively interact with others. There was no meaning in adding more sources of sadness and loneliness to his heart.

He wanted to be alone as much as possible.

In the Akitsu Federation, there was only one person in his life right now who was truly important to him.

──Kagura.

Of the “Seven of Eriadore,” she was the only one still with him. A dignified, kind swordswoman, who resembled his deceased older sister, Yumiko, who had died before his eyes.

──I hope you’re doing well, Kagura.

As he gazed out the window, Kiyoaki thought of Kagura.

Right after they escaped from the Odin fortress and returned to the Akitsu Federation, a messenger from the imperial family of the Keiken Dynasty had suddenly visited Kagura. She quickly made preparations, smiled at Kiyoaki, saying, "We’ll definitely meet again," and left with the messenger to journey to the imperial capital, "Misato."

No one in the military had been told any details. However, the Keiken Dynasty had been revered for over two thousand years by the Easterners as a “divine family.” Since transitioning to a federation with other ethnicities, they no longer held any real power, existing only as a symbolic representation of the Easterners’ ethnic identity.

Though they had no authority, the imperial family still wielded significant influence over the Easterners. It made Kiyoaki wonder even more about who Kagura truly was, to be summoned by such an important institution.

──I’d heard she was from a samurai family, but maybe her status is much higher than I thought...

Since she was personally summoned by the imperial family, that must be the case. Thinking back now, Kiyoaki regretted how little he actually knew about the person who had always been by his side.

──We’ll meet again, right, Kagura…?

Unlike the comrades he had been separated from in other countries, Kagura was still in the same Akitsu Federation. If he wanted to see her, there was a way. Although he didn’t know what kind of treatment she was receiving within the imperial family, he imagined that, as usual, Kagura was calmly and gracefully navigating her interactions with the nobility. To meet her again, he couldn’t afford to die in the sky. As he swore to himself that he would return safely from tomorrow’s air battle, Kiyoaki turned his gaze from the window back to the flight manual.

The name given to the symbol of hope was "Suzaku".

The 1.4 million citizens of the imperial capital, Misato, poured out into the plazas and streets, looking up at the sky in October, cheering like a rumbling earthquake at the sight of the "Flying Island," which they had only heard about in stories until now.

From the rock formation flying at an altitude of 2,000 meters, a shower of colourful confetti rained down, adding to the triumph of the procession. Numerous aircraft and airships formed a protective formation around it. Once called "Balsinos" when it belonged to Urano, the fortress had now been renamed "Suzaku", serving as the guardian deity of the Akitsu Federation and boosting the morale of the people.

The massive rock formation, 28 kilometres long and 15 kilometres wide, soared through the autumn sky, its propulsion system roaring thunderously. The citizens openly expressed their excitement, clapping and shouting "banzai" at this new hope born in the sky, while casting their eyes down to the ground, where prisoners from Urano and St Vault, crammed into the backs of dozens of trucks, were subjected to jeers and ridicule.

“Serves you right, you cowardly wretches!”

“Shame on you, savages!”

“All traitors must be killed!”

It wasn’t just words—they threw small stones from the roadside as well. The Urano and St Vault prisoners, who had been fighting each other just two months ago, were now packed together in the same trucks, heads bowed as they endured the Akitsu people's stones. The unprecedented three-way battle fought over Messus Island, Odessa, and the flying fortress Balsinos had ended in victory for the Akitsu Federation, leveraging their geographical advantage. The captured Balsinos was intact, with neither its rudder nor propulsion systems destroyed, and the Urano crew was now being interrogated to study how to operate it. If this massive flying island could be deployed with full combat capability to the front lines, the dream of dominating the Multi-Island Sea would no longer seem far-fetched. The excitement among the Akitsu people knew no bounds.

“Destroy Urano!”

“Make St Vault surrender!”

“The Multi-Island Sea belongs to the Akitsu people! Drive out the foreign invaders!”

The crowd roared with bold decLalations. Two months had passed since the start of the Second Multi-Island Sea War, and the Federation's war spirit was only rising. The three main ethnic groups—Easterners, Centralites, and Westerners—who didn’t usually get along well, were now united in their resistance against the white-skinned people from across the sea. With the imposing sight of "Suzaku" above them, the citizens spread words of bravery as if they had already won the war.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the frenzied imperial capital, Misato, a vast, cool forest stood quietly, marking out a 2.5-kilometer circular boundary. Viewed from Suzaku above, it would appear as a dark green cushion in the midst of a grey carpet of buildings. If one looked closely, they could see a concentric structure with both outer and inner walls nestled within the deep forest.

The first moat, filled with vibrant water, the high stone walls, and white-plastered fences winding like a labyrinth, along with over ten lookout towers placed at every turn, eventually led to a magnificent main palace—the residence of the Keiken Dynasty.

A short distance from the main palace, beyond a garden blooming with hundreds of flowers, lay the most secluded corner of the imperial residence, with an inner palace by an artificial pond filled with clear water.

The wing of the residence extended over the pond in a raised-floor style, with the water shimmering underneath. Kagura Murasaki, dressed in the military uniform of the Akitsu Federation, was sitting formally within the wing, her eyes closed.

Her uniform, predominantly black, clung to her skin. Silver braiding adorned her chest, a red stripe ran down her shoulder insignia, and a swallow motif decorated the red badge on her high-collared uniform.

It was the formal attire of the Keiken Guard Division, charged with protecting the imperial family.

This elite independent combat unit, which was not under the direct command of the Akitsu Federation military, operated on its own, tasked with a singular mission: to protect the Keiken Dynasty. The unit consisted of four heavy airships, one hundred intercept fighters, and 13,000 ground troops. The uniform Kagura wore signified her belonging to the most elite bodyguard unit of the Keiken Guard, the Shinmei Corps, responsible for the personal protection of the imperial family.

The stillness within the pavilion over the water was serene. The cries of a wagtail bird echoed through the island in the pond, deepening the silence. A cool breeze, carrying the scent of fresh water, passed through the open-air pavilion, causing the tied-up hair at the back of Kagura's head to gently sway. Despite this, Kagura remained motionless, her eyes still closed in deep meditation.

Then, a voice came from behind her.

“Does that look like hope to you?”

Kagura opened her eyes.

Reflected on her retinas was the majestic sight of Suzaku flying in the distant sky. The owner of the voice didn’t wait for a reply and walked past Kagura, all the way to the edge of the wooden platform, turning around with Suzaku towering behind him in the sky.

Dressed in a jet-black military uniform with two golden braids and a large Sakura Order of Merit on his left chest, with a single golden stripe on his shoulder—the formal attire of the Commander of the Imperial Guard Division.

“To me, it looks like a harbinger of destruction.”

His voice was somewhat high-pitched, refined, and carried a deep tone of sorrow. His pale, androgynous face, with eyes that slanted nervously upwards, paired with his slicked-back hair parted in a 7:3 ratio, made him seem older than his 22 years, weighed down by a bitter expression.

Kagura placed both hands on the floor and bowed deeply.

“Forgive my presumption, but I share your sentiments.”

She spoke her frank words into the wooden floor.

The Crown Prince of the Keiken Dynasty, Daitoku Shinnou, furrowed his brows in sorrow as he looked down at Kagura.

“You studied in St Vault, so you must understand the power of that country. Do you think we can win this war?”

Knowing that the Crown Prince sought nothing but honest words from her, Kagura answered without hesitation.

“It is impossible to win.”

“Is there no way to stop it?”

“The dam has burst. The water that has spilled cannot be put back.”

“Does that mean the people of Akitsu are doomed to perish?”

Kagura couldn’t lightly respond to the prince’s words.

“I know this, yet why can I do nothing?”

The prince’s voice, filled with frustration, reflected his anguish over his own powerlessness. Unlike the days before the Federation, the Keiken Dynasty now held no real political power. Despite realizing the impending national crisis, the prince was helpless, merely a figurehead without the ability to influence decisions, a fact that gnawed at him.

──You are a kind person.

──Too kind, and it isolates you…

The prince’s pacifist attitude had alienated him from the military.

While there was still a Federal Parliament, it had become mostly irrelevant. The real power now lay in the hands of the military. Threats and intimidation by young officers toward politicians had become commonplace, and in some cases, they even stormed private residences to carry out assassinations. The unchecked acts of the military, which would normally be prohibited, were justified under the guise of wartime. Politicians, powerless against the military’s overreach, continued to pass laws supporting the war effort, placing heavier taxes on the Federation’s citizens. Though the people suffered under poverty, the tightly controlled media broadcast the message that "St Vault and Urano are to blame for this hardship," redirecting the public’s resentment toward foreign nations.

From the prince’s vantage point, he could see the entire foolish structure of this war. That was why his frustration festered, and his words, though futile, spilled out.

“Speaking of fraternity seems meaningless. In this age, when everyone worships violence…”

He looked up at Suzaku, which was leisurely passing over the imperial capital, and his lamentation continued. Kagura, determined to support him in silence, listened to his words. From childhood, Daitoku Shinnou had trusted Kagura as his "sparring partner," someone he could show his true self to, unlike the other retainers.

After finishing his bitter reflections on the world and his place in it, the prince gestured to Kagura.

“I’ve complained enough. You’re the only one I can say these things to... Let’s begin.”

“As you wish.”

Kagura stood before the prince, crossed the pavilion, passed through the corridor, and entered a 20-square-meter wooden training hall.

In one corner of the room was a sword rack, holding bamboo swords, wooden swords, and real blades. Spears and naginata with sharpened edges were also displayed on the wall. With familiar ease, they both opened sliding doors to separate rooms, changed into their training attire, and returned to the hall with wooden swords.

They bowed to each other at the starting line, and both took up a proper seigan stance with their wooden swords.

Neither of them wore any protective gear on their heads or arms. They were simply clad in white tops and indigo hakama. A full-strength blow could easily cause injury, but they struck with their wooden swords without hesitation.

Kagura showed no mercy. Each strike she brought down was powerful enough to shatter the bones of an ordinary person.

The prince, too, cast off his earlier feeble demeanour from the pavilion. With sharp, practiced steps, he closed in on Kagura, delivering strikes filled with fierce intensity and battle-hardened skill. Though slim, his body was honed, his muscles strong, and his movements quick and powerful like a leopard. His swordsmanship, refined through years of training, was rough yet precise, reminiscent of ancient sword masters.

Between the two, all differences in rank and status had been stripped away.

In this moment, only the pure focus of the sword existed.

They had been honing their skills together since Kagura was seven and the prince was nine.

During the time they wielded their swords here, they were able to forget everything they were born into and exist simply as fellow swordsmen.

The Murasaki family had, for over a thousand years, been a hidden yet noble family that protected the Keiken Dynasty from the shadows.

As instructors in the royal family's swordsmanship, commanders of the Shinmei Corps, and “enforcers” for tasks that could not be made public, the Murasaki family had fulfilled many roles. Though unknown to the world, they were the only warrior clan officially sanctioned by the Keiken Dynasty to guard the palace as samurai. This was the family Kagura was born into.

About twelve years ago, at the request of Daitoku Shinnou, Kagura, who was close in age to the prince, was chosen as his training companion. The head of the Murasaki family and the elders had rigorously taught Kagura how to conduct herself in the palace so as not to offend the prince. However, the two quickly became close friends, disregarding their difference in status, and soon they were competing fiercely, driven by a shared desire to improve and defeat each other in swordsmanship.

Even now, when they were in the inner palace, the prince and Kagura were simply fellow swordsmen, rivals, and childhood friends.

“I yield,” Kagura declared, glancing up at the prince's sword, which had stopped just an inch from her forehead.

They both returned to the starting line, bowed to each other, and wiped the sweat from their faces with cloths.

“Has your sword dulled after your time in St Vault?” the prince asked, teasingly. Kagura could only respond with a wry smile.

“I struggled to find a decent training partner.”

“It seems that way. Next time, I’ll be your instructor.”

“I would be honoured.”

Kagura responded with a light-hearted joke, though she couldn't shake her frustration.

“One more round, please.”

“Very well. The last one wasn’t enough.”

The prince retorted sarcastically and took his position at the starting line again. Knowing each other’s stubborn competitiveness, they both knew from the beginning that a single match wouldn’t be enough.

For about an hour, they continued exchanging blows with unrelenting focus. In that time, the weight of the roles and statuses they had been forced to bear, along with the cruelty of the times, was forgotten—if only for a moment—as they wielded their swords against one another, friends bound by the grip of their weapons.

Part 16 (Part 2 of Volume 6)

At first, Illia thought it was an old blanket discarded by the side of the road. But it was her father.

On the outskirts of the St Vault Empire’s capital, Selfaust, he lay face down, one leg in the roadside ditch, wearing a tattered coat, completely still.

Walking alone on her way home, Illia Kreischmidt gasped and rushed over to help her father up.

"Father...!? Father!!"

Shaking him, her voice trembled with a hint of panic, and finally, his eyelids opened, revealing yellowed eyes.

"…Who… do you think I am… you little brats…!!"

Karsten Kreischmidt glared at Illia up close, his voice harsh and threatening. It seemed he was so drunk that he didn’t even recognize his own daughter, who had returned after a long time away.

His dishevelled long hair was matted with blood. He must have hit his head when he fell, as there was a wound on his temple.

“Father, it’s me, I’ve come home for leave…”

She pressed a handkerchief to the wound on his temple, telling him about her return. After mumbling a few curses, Karsten’s bleary eyes finally focused on his only daughter’s face.

“So it’s you. What are you doing here?”

“I sent a telegram. I just arrived.”

“A telegram? …I don’t care. That doesn’t matter… now help me up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without even a greeting, he gave her an order. Illia slid her hands under her father’s arms and managed to lift him up. Still with one leg in the ditch, Karsten reeked of alcohol and continued cursing under his breath.

“Those little brats... I know their parents. Twenty years ago, they were the cowards who didn’t even go to war and hid in this backwater town. Now their spawn, those maggots born from filth, dare to mock me...!!”

Karsten’s yellowed eyes, threaded with blood vessels, spewed vulgar words as he insulted the local children.

The woman at the bakery Illia had stopped at earlier had told her about it. Apparently, whenever the local boys saw Karsten going out to buy alcohol, they would taunt and mock him, with some even throwing stones.

Always drunk, his long hair unkempt and his clothes in tatters, Karsten looked just like a homeless man.

The once-great hero, known as the “King of the Skies,” had become the perfect target for bored boys in the suburban neighbourhood.

Supporting her father’s shoulders, Illia bit her lip as she struggled to get him to his feet.

“Let’s go home, Father. I need to treat your wound.”

“This is nothing. Just get me my liquor.”

His hands were shaking.

“Father, you should cut back on the alcohol.”

As she steadied him and began leading him home, Karsten glared at her with eyes like a ghost.

“Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”

“…But…”

“You’re no better than those brats. It’s a hundred years too soon for you to talk back to me.”

Illia fell silent. Arguing with her father would only make things worse.

“Let’s just get home.”

“Liquor, you fool. Go buy some liquor.”

“Please stop shouting. I’ll get it for you...”

The sadness of his pitiful state weighed on her, and her voice grew faint.

Supporting her drunken father, Illia entered a liquor store, bought a bottle of brandy, and returned home for the first time in two years.

The last time she had returned home, things were bad, but this time they were even worse.

Entering the house, Illia set down her bags and sighed as she surveyed the living room.

It seemed no fresh air had been let in for some time, and the stench of stale alcohol filled the air. The kitchen was a mess, with unwashed dishes everywhere, and the table was so cluttered that empty bottles had spilled onto the floor. The hallway was thick with dust, and shoeprints remained visible in it.

“I’ll clean up, Father.”

“Do what you want.”

Karsten sat down on the stairs without even looking at his daughter and shoved the bottle into his mouth, gulping down the contents. His pale face regained a bit of colour.

“What? Got a problem with that?”

Noticing Illia’s silent gaze, Karsten glared at her again.

“Maybe you should cut back on how much you drink.”

Unable to hold back, she spoke again. Karsten’s face twisted in anger.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Do you know who I am?”

“……………………”

“I’m the man they called the King of the Skies!! In the air, no one could touch me! No matter how experienced they were, they couldn’t even catch a glimpse of my tail!!”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“If you know that, then stop looking at me like that!! Who do you think raised you?!”

“You did, Father.”

The sight of her father clinging to his past glory made Illia want to cry. But she tried her best, weaving together clumsy words to soothe him. The only way to calm him down and take away the alcohol was to let him indulge in the memories of his glory days.

“Never talk back to me again. No one should ever defy me!”

Karsten took another swig of the brandy. In his drunken stupor, memories of past air battles returned, and he could immerse himself in the happy days of his past.

Leaving her father behind, Illia retreated upstairs to her room.

She opened the curtains and looked out at the night slowly creeping across the sky, then turned on the light. Without a moment to rest from her long journey, Illia changed out of her uniform, into her casual clothes, put on a mask, rolled up her sleeves, and went back downstairs to start cleaning.

Her mother had left when Illia was six years old. Her father couldn’t do any housework, so they lived on canned food and bread. While receiving rigorous training to become a pilot, Illia had to teach herself how to manage the household.

She cleaned the sink, stuffed the scattered trash into bags, cleared away the empty bottles, swept the floors, wiped them down, and slowly brought the house back to a state where it could be lived in. After finishing with the living room, she stepped into the study. There, too, newspapers and magazines littered the desk and floor, with empty bottles peeking out from between them.

The condition of the house reflected her father’s deteriorated inner state.

He was always angry, yelling at others, and whenever he drank, he escaped into the past, clinging to the skies where he once reigned as king. Karsten had only ever trained Illia from a young age to become a master of aerial combat, the ace pilot he once was.

As Illia continued cleaning, memories from the past resurfaced.

She had never been treated like a typical girl.

Her hair was cut short, and she was ordered to speak like a man. The only toy she was ever given was the cockpit of an aircraft in the backyard.

While other girls her age were playing house in cute clothes, Illia was forced to grip the control stick and throttle, flying through imaginary skies.

It would be a lie to say that she never felt rebellious as she entered adolescence.

She even harboured resentment toward her father, who had imposed his ambitions on her and given her no choice but to become a pilot.

When she was twelve, she finally reached her breaking point and ran away from home.

Her father, his eyes bloodshot, asked around for information and roamed the neighbourhood, calling her name for three days and three nights, until the police got involved. Illia had taken refuge at a church, and when the priest told her what had happened, she went to the police station to get her father. When Karsten saw her, he struck her with his left arm, and the police had to restrain him. Illia tearfully apologized for her father's behaviour, and together, they made their way home.

On the way back, her father remained silent.

Illia walked behind him, crying the entire way.

She had honestly cursed her misfortune, wondering why she had to be born to such a father. But ever since that day, Illia had never rebelled against him again. For some reason, her father’s back had looked like it was crying.

Illia had a vague sense that her father, too, couldn’t control himself.

The glory of the past, the pitiful present, and the uncertain future were all tormenting him.

Even as a child, she had understood that.

──He’s confused…

As she continued cleaning, nineteen-year-old Illia thought the same thing about her father.

──He can’t accept losing everything in that duel with Sakagami Flight Chief...

──He can’t accept that one defeat...

Her heart ached. Her father seemed so pitiable.

Biting her lip, she continued picking up the scattered newspapers and magazines from the floor. Dusting off the bookshelves filled with military research and war histories, she polished them with a cloth. As she worked, she happened upon a scrapbook tucked in the corner of the shelf.

"…?"

It felt out of place among her father's collection, so she instinctively picked it up and opened it.

“Ah…”

Inside were newspaper clippings about Illia. The faded photographs showed Illia with an awkward smile.

"…!?"

Her heart pounded.

With trembling hands, she turned the pages.

Every step of Illia’s journey since she had entered the Air Hunt Officer Academy had been carefully documented.

Her success in a daring mission behind enemy lines in Eriadore. The outcome of her mock air battle with Kiyoaki. Her defence of Air Hunt Island during Operation Judeka. After graduation, her role in the Voltec Air Squadron during the Battle of Sierra Greed. Newspaper articles and magazine pieces covering every event had been meticulously clipped and preserved.

"Father..."

Her heart felt like it was on fire.

Each time Illia had accomplished something, her father had bought up newspapers and magazines, cut out every article about her, and saved them all.

She could picture him, with only his left arm, carefully cutting out the articles.

"Father..."

Her father wasn’t just drowning in the past.

He was living in the present through Illia.

He was looking forward to her future.

This simple truth filled her with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Illia hugged the scrapbook to her chest.

Her father's true feelings, which could never be conveyed through words or actions, came through clearly in this book. He was clumsy, knowing nothing but how to pilot a plane, and didn’t know how to talk to his daughter, who was so much younger. But he loved her deeply. That was enough for Illia.

"I will become the King of the Skies, Father."

Akmed of the Valkyries, Karnasion of Urano.

One day, she would reach the heights where they soared.

"I will rule the skies."

The scrapbook was still only half-filled. Illia promised herself she would fill every page, to bring joy to her father.

Illia stayed at home for one night. Her leave was short, and considering the time it took to travel back and forth, she couldn’t stay any longer.

Her father woke around noon, eating the bread Illia had bought while grumbling insults about the neighbours, the Akitsu people, and the politicians he disliked, all while continuously drinking. Illia listened silently, nodding along, as he recounted air battle stories she had heard hundreds of times before.

Though she had grown tired of the stories, when she asked him about air combat manoeuvres or how to trap an enemy in an actual battle, her father’s face lit up, and he launched into a lecture with great enthusiasm.

Having experienced real aerial combat herself, Illia understood the depth of her father’s words. His unique theories and philosophy of air combat were something she had never heard from anyone else in the Voltec Squadron.

──He really is the King of the Skies…

Understanding this filled Illia with happiness. Because she had flown in the same skies, she could truly appreciate her father’s greatness.

Her father continued drinking. Each time Illia asked him a question, he proudly expounded on the air combat theories he had developed over the years. She had never spent so much time conversing with her father, just the two of them. Illia was glad she had come home.

Eventually, Karsten passed out drunk on the table in the evening. Illia packed her bags for her return, placed a blanket over her father’s back, left some pocket money on the table, and quietly left the house.

On the way back, she felt a warm sensation in her chest.

She would fight for her father.

Illia had renewed her resolve.

In October of Imperial Year 1349, on the island of Santos, Sierra Greed──

Upon her hurried return to the battlefield aboard a large transport airship, Illia Kreischmidt was greeted by an unfamiliar sight: a new type of fighter aircraft.

Gathered in front of the hangar at Sierra Greed’s First Airfield were her colleagues from the Voltec Air Squadron, all buzzing excitedly as they admired the unusual shape of the fighter. Illia blended into the group, her eyes fixed on the nose of the brand-new silver aircraft.

“So this is a contra-rotating propeller… I’ve never seen one before.”

The four blades of the double propellers evoked the image of a fierce and untameable stallion. According to the explanation, the engine’s output was so powerful that this design was necessary to subdue the air resistance. The wings curved, and from the front, the aircraft’s silhouette formed a W-shape, giving it a futuristic appearance.

“It’s got four 20mm cannons on the wings and two 15mm machine guns in the fuselage. That's some serious firepower. The engine’s a turboprop, so it’s fuel-efficient during cruising and theoretically can approach the speed of sound. No idea how well that’ll work in a fighter, but I guess we’ll find out. The fact that they’re deploying a prototype into combat at this stage probably means someone’s getting nervous about the war ending too soon.”

Senior flight officer Mcguire, a leader among the non-commissioned flying officers, joked, and the surrounding colleagues chuckled. The southern archipelago’s war situation had been progressing far more smoothly than expected, leading to speculation that the aviation technology division had hurriedly pushed the prototype into service, fearing they wouldn’t get enough combat data. The squad members, well aware of these circumstances, eagerly hoped to be chosen to fly the new aircraft. It was a pilot's instinct to want to play with new toys.

“The name’s Beo-Strike F1F. The Empire’s wild stallion. Anyone wanna ride it?”

Mcguire teased, and naturally, everyone present eagerly raised their voices.

“I wanna ride! Me, me!”

“I wanna ride too! I don’t really get how it works, but it looks cool, like something from the future!”

The twin pilots, Lulu and Lala Scott, bounced excitedly, carefree in their joy. After a month of continuous battles, the introduction of a new aircraft brought a much-needed boost to the Voltec Squadron’s spirits.

“Hey, Illia, don’t you wanna ride too? ...Wait, what’s up?”

Lulu, trying to nudge Illia, noticed the strange expression on her face.

“Ah, no… it’s nothing.”

“You don’t look so good. Don’t you like this one?”

“It’s not that… I think it’s a good aircraft.”

Illia tried to cover it up and put on a composed expression, but the more she looked at the new aircraft, the more a sense of foreboding crept into her mind.

──I’ve seen this plane before.

──It’s just like that strange dream...

Illia was recalling something from nearly two years ago when she had conducted the daring mission through enemy lines aboard the Eriadore airship.

While resting on an island during the journey, she had a dream that felt so real it was unsettling.

In the dream, she had flown this aircraft, with a white wolf nose art on the front, over a burning city. She had been crying as she chased down the “Black Rabbit,” closing in for the kill, and then… she fired.

It was just a dream, after all.

But now, the plane from that dream stood before her in reality.

When Illia had carried out her mission aboard the Eriadore, the St Vault Empire and the Akitsu Federation were allied. But now, the two great nations had parted ways and were preparing for an inevitable confrontation.

It was entirely possible that Illia and Kiyoaki Sakagami might face each other as enemies in aerial combat.

A sense of dread flickered at the edges of her mind.

──Will I be flying this plane to fight Sakagami?

As if it had been predestined that they would clash.

Illia clenched her fists.

──Could I really shoot down Sakagami? Could I?

Illia stared into the distant future and silently asked the sky.

Her reflection, distorted by the curve of the Beo-Strike’s wings, appeared agonized.

That night──

While studying the turboprop engine’s manual with the maintenance crew in the hangar, a letter arrived for Illia.

It was from Cecil.

Cecil sent letters almost monthly, so this wasn’t unusual. She decided to read it later when she had some time alone, slipping the letter into the pocket of her work clothes. For now, she focused on helping with the engine maintenance, committing its structure to memory.

After the work was done, Illia thanked the maintenance crew and made her way back to the barracks. On her way, she happened to look up at the stars over Santos Island.

The stars here in the southern archipelago didn’t look much different from those in the north. Until recently, she had been aboard the floating fortress Odin at an altitude of 2,000 meters, where the stars had appeared far more vivid.

The battle to capture Santos Island had only ended two weeks ago.

Using the floating fortress as a base, the St Vault Navy had completely destroyed the island’s air defences and mercilessly bombarded the Hydrabard ground forces from the air. The Hydrabard Navy had been wiped out in the Battle of Sierra Greed, leaving them helpless. Santos Island had fallen to the St Vault Empire so easily it was almost anticlimactic. Now, it was becoming a major military stronghold, with airships and army divisions pouring in from all over.

Securing Santos Island allowed St Vault to control the southern and northern seas across the vast Daibaku Straits, and the island itself boasted coastal artillery installations with concrete defences, several docks, and a naval port capable of housing super-dreadnought battleships. If St Vault was to dominate the southern archipelago, maintaining and developing Santos Island was absolutely crucial.

However, the eyes of the island’s inhabitants watching the St Vault soldiers were dark and cold.

Since the destruction of the Sylvania royal family seven years ago, the island had been ravaged by war, with different rulers coming and going. The hearts of the islanders were deeply scarred and weary. They had no reason to feel anything but hostility toward the St Vault forces, who had burned the land with overwhelming airstrikes and were now flooding in, occupying their homeland and summoning more troops.

When conquering a territory, the most important task is to win over the local populace.

When the locals view their conquerors favourably, the economy in the occupied region runs more smoothly. Markets and transportation operated by the locals become safe to use, and the locals can inform the occupiers of outsiders and new arrivals, making it harder for enemy agents to infiltrate. The locals, with their homes spread across the island, can serve as an invaluable information network, providing early warnings of enemy movements. Coastal residents could be taught how to use radios to alert the military of incoming enemy planes and their flight paths. Similarly, equipping fishermen with radios could help track enemy naval forces patrolling nearby waters. And if an enemy pilot parachuted onto the island after being shot down, friendly locals might capture them and bring them to the nearest base.

By winning over the local population, life in the war zone becomes safer and more efficient. Enemy espionage efforts can be thwarted, and crucial intelligence becomes more accessible. Even if the territory is lost, locals sympathetic to St Vault might leak information, aid in resistance operations, or form guerrilla groups to disrupt enemy occupation. In a region like the archipelago, where numerous islands are scattered across a vast sea, the loyalty of the inhabitants of key islands can have a decisive impact on the outcome of the war. This is why the operations command was scrambling to pacify the population of Santos Island.

──If I recall, Balthazar is the officer in charge of handling the pacification of Santos Island’s residents…

Last month, since helping Kiyoaki Sakagami and Kagura escape from prison, there had been no word from Balthazar. Given that he wasn’t the type to keep in touch regularly, Illia wasn’t worried, though she assumed they were likely on the same island. Still, the complete lack of any news was a little unsettling.

After all, Balthazar had been the mastermind behind Kiyoaki’s jailbreak, an act that violated military law.

Illia couldn’t help but worry whether the military police were closing in on Balthazar.

Ever since word got out about Kiyoaki’s escape, the Voltec Air Squadron had been investigated by military police. Illia herself had been questioned but, as she had coordinated with Leo and the others beforehand, she was able to cover up their involvement by claiming they had all been drinking together on the night of the incident. The military police seemed unsatisfied with the explanation, but it was clear that someone from command had intervened, preventing them from conducting a more thorough investigation. Rumour had it that the former Sylvania royal family was somehow connected to the case, and with the Operations Command eager to accelerate the pacification efforts on Santos Island, it seemed they were keen to sweep the matter under the rug.

──I just hope this doesn’t interfere with Balthazar’s duties…

With that concern lingering in her mind, Illia returned to the women’s officers’ barracks and finally opened the letter from Cecil.

The letter was only a single sheet. Short, for a letter from Cecil.

But the content shocked Illia.

"Dearest Illia,

How are you? I’m doing well. Every day, I pray that you’re safely flying in the skies.

This may come as a surprise, but I’ve withdrawn from the Selfaust Officer Academy.

There were only five months left until graduation, but due to various reasons, I had no choice but to leave.

I can’t explain why right now.

And I can’t tell you about what comes next, either.

For the time being, I also can’t give you my new contact information.

The next time I see you, I think I’ll be in a very different position than I am now.

It’s not that I was deceiving anyone, but there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from everyone, a secret that I must now confront.

But please believe me when I say that I truly cherish the bond of the "Seven of Eriadore," and I always hold the promise we made close to my heart.

I’ve kept that promise until now, and I’ll continue to do so in the future.

We’ll be apart for a while, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.

Until then, stay safe, Illia. Please don’t do anything reckless. Always think about your own safety when you fly.

I’ll keep doing my best so that all seven of us can meet again with smiles on our faces.

Your friend, Cecil Hauer."

After reading the letter, Illia stared blankly at the page for a while before reading it twice more.

She couldn’t understand.

“Cecil… quit Selfaust?”

Cecil was a fourth-year student and the top of her class. She had poured herself into her studies every day and was well on her way to securing a position at Operations Command after graduation. She was just months away from achieving that, yet why had she thrown it all away and quit?

“What’s this secret…?”

Illia had known Cecil for seven years, ever since they met in the gymnasium. Cecil was always cheerful and energetic, and she never seemed like someone carrying such a heavy burden.

As Illia pondered this, she suddenly remembered Balthazar’s words during the prison break operation last month.

“Cecil asked me to lead this extraction operation, so I have no choice but to take command. Any objections?”

Balthazar had said this when they were planning the operation with Reiner and Illia. At the time, they had been too focused on rushing the plan to question it, but now Illia wondered why Balthazar held Cecil’s request in such high regard.

──Could Cecil’s resignation and the jailbreak be connected?

There were other odd details too, such as the Akitsu Federation sending a submarine to pick up Kiyoaki and Kagura. Illia felt that something much larger, something invisible to her, had been moving behind the scenes of that jailbreak. Perhaps Cecil’s “secret” was hidden in that very flow.

Illia read the letter one more time, then put it away in her desk drawer. No matter how much she speculated, she couldn’t find the answers right now.

“She says we’ll meet again… someday.”

For now, she would have to believe Cecil’s words. When they met again, the answers would likely come to light.

Illia opened the curtains and looked up at the stars outside.

Her scattered friends, wherever they were, might be looking at the same stars right now.

Even though she couldn’t see them, and even though some were in unknown locations, they were surely walking their own paths, grappling with their own struggles and pain.

And one day, when their separate paths crossed again──what would happen?

A chill ran through her thoughts.

──Even if we become enemies, we will not hate each other.

She repeated the vow in her heart, as if to ward off the bad premonition.

──Friendship is eternal...

Illia sent her silent vow to the distant friends who, somewhere, were likely looking up at the same stars.

Part 17 (Part 3 of Volume 6)

As Mio Syira gazed up at the twinkling stars, she inhaled the crisp night air deeply, raising her hands towards the sky. She felt something gentle and warm descend from beyond the stars, and she reached out to capture it, pressing it into her heart, which often felt as if it might freeze over.

In the early days of October in the 1349th year of the Imperial Calendar, at the Lamia Palace in Pleiades, the capital of Uranos:

Three months had passed since the return of the Kai Andros fleet, which had dominated the sky over the capital.

Although not immediately apparent, something had undeniably changed since that day.

Mio lifted her gaze to the dome-topped structure at the peak of the round tower.

A girl stood alone, her hands placed over the pendant hanging from her neck, staring intently up at the zenith.

This was Mio's current mistress.

The one who would inherit Uranos.

Nina Viento.

It was a windless night. The moon in the southern sky outlined the "Wind-Calling Girl" against the silver-flecked stars, making her stand out against the night sky.

Though it appeared as if Nina was offering a prayer to the stars, this was not the case.

This was training.

Nina was honing her "power," working to refine her control over it.

She wasn't merely standing there; Nina was quieting her mind, descending deeper into her consciousness, listening to the voices only she could hear.

──She's drawing in the words of the wind…

At least, that's how it appeared to Mio.

Ever since that strange long-distance communication through the pendant three months ago, Nina had dedicated herself to this nightly training without fail.

But the wind remained unchanged. The mysterious atmospheric flow known as "Wind Calling" had yet to manifest.

Mio had never once seen Nina successfully control the wind. On the contrary, Nina would often collapse from exhaustion, which was why Mio always stayed by her side during these sessions.

"Ah…"

A gasp escaped Mio as Nina swayed like a top about to fall. Mio quickly ran up the sloped dome and caught Nina's collapsing body.

"Nina!!"

Supporting her from behind, Mio gently lowered her to the ground, cradling her in her arms. Nina's teeth were chattering, and her limbs trembled in small spasms. Thin veins surfaced along her neck, and Mio could feel the cold sweat soaking through Nina’s blouse.

"…Nn…"

Nina weakly waved her hand, as if trying to ward off something unseen. It was clear she was frightened by something invisible to Mio.

"Nina, hold on! Nina!!"

Mio called out urgently as she carried Nina from the dome, through the balcony, and back to Nina’s quarters.

Inside the small curtained-off section of the room, Mio laid Nina on the simple bed and took her hand.

Nina’s lips were as blue as if they had been submerged in icy water, and her entire body continued to tremble. Mio covered her with a blanket, rubbing Nina’s hands and cheeks while calling her name in desperation.

Nina muttered incoherently, seemingly fighting against something unseen. She barked out fragmented orders as if commanding someone, then let out a short scream, contorting her face in pain.

"Nina!! Nina!!"

After repeated calls, Nina’s pale, grape-coloured eyes finally fluttered open.

"Mio…"

"Nina, are you alright…?"

Nina’s face was pale as a corpse, and Mio couldn’t help but press Nina’s hand to her own cheek in worry.

"…Yes… I’m fine."

Nina spoke with fragile resolve, but there was little life left in her voice.

"You shouldn’t push yourself…"

"…No… I’m alright now. It's gone…"

Still lying down, Nina offered a small, brave smile. She was trying to act strong, but her current condition made her look more like a patient than anything else.

Mio felt the urge to cry. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Nina.

"…Is this training… truly necessary? It feels like the more you push yourself, the worse your condition becomes…"

Mio couldn't help but voice her concerns. This training had been going on for three months now, but Nina's collapses had only become more frequent with each passing day.

"It’s just… how it works. The strain on my body and mind has certainly increased, but that also means I’m getting closer to hearing the wind’s voice…"

Mio didn’t fully understand, but Nina had explained before that to control the wind, one had to align their consciousness with the wind itself. While Nina had been able to do this effortlessly as a child, as she grew older, she now required active effort—what she referred to as "prayer"—to maintain the power of "Wind Calling."

However, in the process of this "prayer," there were times when Nina would inadvertently connect with something else—something "bad." These malevolent forces would invade her, trying to control her instead. Each time this happened, Nina had to fight to expel them from her mind, a process that took a great toll on both her body and spirit. The severity of these battles was evident in the symptoms she exhibited after collapsing.

Every time she trained, Nina was forced to engage in an invisible struggle with these ghosts, battling alone without anyone to help her, risking her sanity in the process.

──Does she really need to carry this burden?

──For whom?

Mio couldn’t understand. Nina's power didn’t seem to bring her any happiness; if anything, it appeared to be a source of suffering.

According to Ignacio, when Nina was aboard the flying island Isla, she had many friends. Though she had been emotionally closed off due to being used politically from a young age, meeting those companions had brought some youthful light to her face. But Nina had used her "Wind Calling" power to protect Isla, which had led to her being recognized by Uranos as the "prophesied Savior of the Myths of the World" and forcibly brought to Pleiades. To ensure her friends could continue their journey, Nina had no choice but to sacrifice herself. Since then, for over four years, she had been confined in this lonely palace under the guise of being a goodwill ambassador.

──It’s too sad.

The happiness she had known was far too brief, and she had been forced to give it up because of her power. If not for that power, she could have lived as an ordinary girl, free from this suffering. Yet here she was, clinging desperately to the very power that was causing her such harm.

──Who is it all for?

As Mio stroked Nina’s hand, these soundless questions echoed in her heart.

Just then, the fluttering of wings filled the room. An old friend had come to visit. Mio pulled back the curtain of the small enclosure.

It was Fio, who alighted gracefully on Mio’s shoulder, gazing down at Nina and letting out a soft chirp.

Nina smiled weakly.

"Fio, don’t worry about me."

The wise little bird chirped softly in response to Nina’s voice. Mio touched Fio’s beak with her fingertip.

"Fio likes Nina too. He’s very selective about who he gets close to…"

Still lying on the bed, Nina cast a wistful gaze at Fio.

"…Such a curious bird. It’s almost as if he understands human speech…"

"I think he does understand. I’ve had Fio with me since I was a child, and I’ve seen moments like that many times."

Nina sat up slightly, now gazing directly at Fio with rare interest.

"…May I hear more about that?"

It was unusual for Nina to ask such a question. Perhaps her extraordinary powers had attuned her to something in Fio’s unique nature.

Choosing her words carefully, Mio began to speak.

"When I was a child, we moved to an island in the countryside, and I didn’t have any friends. So as a joke, I asked Fio to find me one. He flew off, and when I followed him, I found him sitting on top of a boy’s head. That boy… he became my friend."

As memories of meeting Kiyoaki surfaced, Mio smiled softly. She had originally asked Fio to find her "the person she was destined to be with," but she left that part out, feeling embarrassed.

"Fio became very attached to him too. After that, whenever I asked Fio to go find him, he would always fly to that boy…"

Listening quietly, Nina gazed at Fio, then raised her hand toward him.

Without hesitation, Fio hopped onto Nina’s finger and climbed up her arm to perch on her shoulder.

"Is that so… Perhaps he really can understand our words."

As Nina closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, Fio nestled against her cheek, as if comforting her.

"I have a feeling that someday, Fio will help you, Mio… I just have that sense."

Nina said those words, then lay back down on her bed. Mio stayed by her side, placing Fio gently on her own shoulder, waiting until Nina had fallen asleep.

Once Nina was asleep, Mio lit a candle and descended the spiral staircase.

It was clear to anyone that Nina’s strength was being drained with every session of this intense training. As Mio tried to puzzle out why Nina would go to such lengths to maintain her power to summon the wind, only one answer seemed plausible.

—The succession of the Uranos throne…

—Nina intends to become the Queen of Uranos...

The thought had first crossed Mio's mind after hearing a certain phrase.

"The Second Isla Fleet will be utterly destroyed."

Three months ago, when Ignacio had made this grim decLalation, Nina had turned pale, her legs trembling uncontrollably. At the time, Mio hadn’t fully understood what was happening, but from the snippets of conversation, she had deduced that someone named "Kal" had set sail with a fleet to rescue Nina, yet it seemed that their forces were insufficient to defeat Uranos.

—Perhaps Nina plans to become the Queen of Uranos to save Kal.

—Is that why she is clinging so fiercely to her "Wind-Calling" power?

As Mio formed this hypothesis, a wave of sadness washed over her.

Kal had gathered a great fleet to save Nina.

Nina, in turn, was preparing to ascend to the throne to save Kal.

—They’re both acting out of love for one another…

—But what will the outcome be…?

For some reason, Mio had an oMisatous feeling that it wouldn’t end well. Instead, it seemed more likely that something terrible would come of it.

It was as if some cruel god governing this world had designed the current situation with the intent to make both of them suffer. This unfounded anxiety burst into Mio’s heart, leaving her uneasy.

—Am I just being mean-spirited…?

Mio shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. Maybe it was because her own fate had been manipulated cruelly, forcing her to abandon the bonds of the "Seven of Eriadore." Perhaps she was unconsciously projecting her own pessimism onto the fates of others.

"I’m a terrible person…" she muttered to herself, stopping the unhelpful speculation. After all, this was merely her own baseless conjecture. She was nothing more than a simple attendant, and she had no right to meddle in the lives of those of higher status. She should focus solely on carrying out the tasks Zenon assigned her.

—Papa, Mama, Kazuki, Dominic, Bonita.

—We’ll meet again someday. Please wait for me.

Zenon had been searching for Mio's family, who had gone missing in the chaos of war. As long as Zenon kept his word, there was still a flicker of hope. That was all Mio needed to concern herself with.

—All I need to do is avoid displeasing Zenon. That’s it.

Mio repeated this to herself, pushing all other thoughts aside, as she made her way back to the servants' quarters.

Oratorio District, Right Bank of the Uranos Capital, Pleiades—

If the Evangelis District on the left bank served as the urban centre of Pleiades, then the Oratorio District on the right bank was its military hub. It housed the Ministry of Military Affairs, responsible for overseeing military governance and operations. In the adjacent skyscrapers, the Unified Operations Headquarters was located, effectively serving as the brain of all Uranos military power.

Within this district, Zenon Kavaris, an officer of Uranos’ Intelligence Department, who officially held the title of Undersecretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, gazed out of a seventh-floor window at the towering buildings in the distance. Behind him, a subordinate—having fled his post—was nervously explaining his failure.

“...And thus, the operation at the flying fortress Odin became unsustainable. Rather than risk capture, I chose to escape, deploying a parachute to descend into the sea from the edge of the fortress.”

The subordinate’s voice strained to maintain composure, but bitterness was evident in his tone. Zenon continued to face the window, listening silently to the justification, until the man finished speaking. Then, slowly, Zenon turned to face him, offering a smile to the subordinate he had painstakingly trained.

"You're useless garbage."

His tone was as gentle as if he were admiring a flower.

For a brief moment, Hachidori’s face tensed, but he kept his gaze fixed upward, not daring to meet Zenon’s eyes.

"I have no hobby of keeping worthless trash around. Do you have any idea how much time, manpower, and budget was spent infiltrating you into the St Vault military?"

“...I apologize,” Hachidori responded, his voice low with shame.

Zenon’s smile didn’t waver as he continued. "You’re demoted to the lowest rank of the S-Class operatives—Patriotis. For the time being, you’ll be assigned tasks even an idiot could handle. It's clear that covert operations were beyond you."

The S-Class agents Zenon had groomed—called "Patriotis"—were ranked. Hachidori, previously fourth in rank, had plummeted to the bottom, branded as the "most incompetent" among his peers.

As Zenon observed Hachidori’s hands trembling from humiliation, he took a perverse satisfaction in the agent's suffering.

—I want to make him cry.

There was no reason for it. Breaking Hachidori wouldn’t improve the mission’s outlook, but the thought of crushing his pride and watching his reaction amused Zenon.

He addressed Hachidori’s pale face with an insult.

"Hey, you spineless coward."

“……………………”

"Did my hearing suddenly go bad?"

“...Yes, sir.”

"I have a task even a worm like you can manage. You know Mio Syira, correct?"

“...Yes, sir.”

"Mio is currently working to establish a personal connection with Nina Viento. She’s been quite successful—gaining Nina’s trust in just a few months. She’s even blended seamlessly into Lamia Palace, earning the favour of the guards. Unlike you."

“...Yes, sir.”

“Nina will soon be considered for the Uranos throne. The Demistri faction is becoming active in opposition. You will be sent to Lamia Palace under the guise of an old friend of Mio, to protect Nina.”

"Protect...Nina Viento?"

"Nina has a dedicated guard, yes. But if the Demistri faction makes their move, I have doubts about their ability to handle it. They may be adequate in open combat, but against agents like you, they wouldn’t stand a chance."

Standard military training and the specialized training of agents were fundamentally different. Soldiers excelled in frontal combat, while operatives like Hachidori were skilled in more subtle means—such as poisoning food.

“While you’re there, you will also train Mio as an operative. She’s one of my Favorites, and I intend to make her my personal plaything. However, I don’t have the time to educate her myself, so you will do it.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“Don’t destroy her spirit. Her charm lies in her personality. You must maintain her bright demeanour and intelligence while implanting the necessary skills."

"Yes, sir."

Hachidori stared blankly ahead, his emotions concealed, but Zenon could sense the simmering anger deep inside him.

Of the one hundred initial candidates, only eight had survived the gruelling selection process to become S-Class agents. Hachidori’s pride as an elite operative was immense, and being relegated to mere training duties was a bitter humiliation.

—humiliation is the best way to motivate the incompetent.

—Let fear of failure seep into his bones.

With an inner smirk, Zenon gave the final order.

“Leave tomorrow. And don’t show your face to me again unless I give you permission.”

“...Yes, sir.”

Hachidori clicked his heels, standing at attention, then left the office.

“Don’t fail again, you useless coward,” Zenon sneered at the closed door, reclining in his chair and staring at the ceiling.

After venting his frustrations on his subordinate, Zenon turned to his work.

The desk in front of him was piled high with documents.

From the Southern Archipelago, to Balesteros, the Holy Spring, the Kai Andros region, and Levamme—information about the world’s many domains, where Uranos was expanding its influence, was stacked before him.

—A treasure trove.

Zenon relished the thought as he sifted through intelligence reports compiled by Uranos’ intelligence officers and meticulously verified by analysis teams.

The thrill of holding in his hands information that others couldn’t even dream of knowing—the kind of knowledge that allowed him to survey the entire globe—was intoxicating. While the leaders of other nations were unaware of each other’s existence or the true shape of the world, Zenon had a bird's-eye view of it all.

—This is the privilege of the Uranos elite.

Uranos’ primary strategic goal was to maintain the isolation of various regions from one another.

By preventing information from spreading while monopolizing it for themselves, Uranos ensured that their grip on the world remained unchallenged. The flying fortresses patrolled the skies, seeking out exploratory fleets from other nations and eliminating them before they could return home, preventing any knowledge of Uranos from spreading.

In this way, while other nations remained ignorant of each other’s existence, Uranos steadily consolidated its power.

—That’s why this is necessary.

Zenon glanced at the piles of documents on his desk.

To him, this classified information was as exquisite as a fine wine. He savoured its quality, internalizing every detail.

Zenon Kavaris had recently ascended to the role of Chief of Uranos Intelligence, a promotion earned just three months ago following the death of King Ortega of Uranos. His prior position had been Director of the Multi-Island Sea Department, but with the increasing importance of Nina Viento, the credit for bringing her to Uranos secured his rise. Now, Zenon held the critical role of overseeing all intelligence on the world's surface nations. Simultaneously, he also served as a member of Chrono Magos, an influential council operating beyond the boundaries of Uranos. This group, composed of key figures from politics, business, and finance, primarily in the Multi-Island Sea region, manipulated international markets. In essence, it was a transnational network of merchants with the power to topple an advanced nation into financial chaos if they so desired. Zenon masterfully utilized his authority as head of Uranos Intelligence to further Chrono Magos’ interests.

Why did he do it?

—Because it was fun.

Basking in the infinite sea of information, Zenon revelled in his euphoria. If he could live like this forever, that would be enough. When bored, he amused himself by tormenting subordinates, sabotaging political enemies, or finding bright, innocent girls untouched by the world's filth, manipulating them until he could break them and turn them into his personal playthings.

Zenon had no ambition for power—no dreams, no goals, and no hope for a better future.

—Dreams and goals are the path to self-destruction.

Dreams and hopes inevitably attract obstacles and enemies. The larger the dream, the thicker and higher the walls that stand in the way. Moreover, humans are never satisfied with their current state. Even after overcoming challenges and achieving their dreams, their hearts remain unsated. Satisfaction, if it comes at all, lasts only a fleeting week, and then a new hunger arises. Desires, by their very nature, are self-replicating. Those who attain their dreams soon find themselves pursuing new ones, facing fresh walls to scale, either bleeding to surpass them or falling broken along the way.

—An utter waste of effort.

The key to navigating life wisely is to avoid clinging to such things.

—Never expect anything from this world.

—Do not have dreams or hopes from the outset.

—Simply float along, and enjoy what drifts by.

Zenon believed in flowing with life’s current, floating on the surface, enjoying each passing moment, resisting the temptation to pursue some higher purpose.

—Principles are unnecessary.

—What is needed is stability.

All that mattered was securing the conditions that guaranteed his current position, punctuating those efforts with the occasional amusement. That was enough.

Zenon had a family—an intelligent, beautiful young wife and three talented children. Though he rarely returned home and their relationship had long gone cold, from the outside, it appeared to be the perfect family. Zenon felt no love for them. He maintained the facade of a family man, using his position to manipulate those around him for his amusement. As long as life remained entertaining, he had no complaints.

—What I must prioritize now...

A glint of eerie light shone behind Zenon’s glasses.

—Nina Viento and Demistri.

—No matter who claims the throne, my position must remain unshaken.

He reaffirmed this to himself.

The successor to the throne would be decided in two months during the Holy Aldista Nativity Festival. Currently, two factions vied for control: the radicals supporting Nina Viento and the conservatives backing Demistri. Both camps were vying for influence, engaging in fierce battles both publicly and behind the scenes, each hoping to secure their standing post-coronation.

Zenon, however, had no intention of taking sides.

Getting involved in a royal power struggle might invite disaster. The key was to observe from the sidelines, waiting for the right moment to jump onto the prevailing current.

—Therefore, careful orchestration is necessary.

"Atori. Renjaku."

He called into the empty air, and two shadows appeared silently in his office.

One was tall and slender, with long hair tied at the back. The other was a small man, sharp-eyed and exuding an aura of agility.

Without turning to face them, Zenon issued his orders.

“Renjaku, guard Prince Demistri. Neutralize any assassins sent by Nina Viento’s faction, and gather information on the conservatives."

“Yes, sir,” replied Renjaku, the number two among the S-Class agents, known as the Patriotis.

“Atori, guard Pope Illustriali. Investigate the inner workings of the Aldista Papacy and report everything to me."

“Yes, sir,” answered Atori, the number one agent. Pope Illustriali was a key figure in the faction pushing for Nina Viento’s coronation. His actions would undoubtedly play a pivotal role in determining the outcome of the succession.

"Go."

At Zenon’s command, the two shadows disappeared from the room as silently as they had come.

Zenon smirked as he turned to the now-empty office. Not even Hachidori could detect the presence of Atori and Renjaku. Once they infiltrated a location, no secret would remain hidden from Zenon’s grasp.

—Obtaining the strengths and weaknesses of both camps is crucial.

—I’ll drip-feed them valuable information, keeping both sides dancing and indebted to me.

—No matter who ascends to the throne, I will remain at the heart of power...

Confirming this to himself, Zenon let a euphoric smile creep across his face as he returned to his documents, savouring the secrets of the world alone.

Hachidori stood in the hallway, enduring the curious, mocking gaze of Kiliai, Patriotis No. 6, whom he had accidentally encountered. Worst-case scenarios had a tendency to pile up, and this was one of them. There was no point in resisting the flood of misfortune. Instead, he reminded himself to endure—never to lash out emotionally or resort to force, as it would only worsen his position.

"Well, well, back already, huh? You finished your job that quick?" Kiliai said with a cheerfulness that was almost infuriating for an S-Class agent of the Patriotis. She patted Hachidori's right shoulder with a roughness that felt intentionally demeaning.

"Why the long face, like you ate something rotten? Did you pick up something off the street, or what?"

"…"

"The boss told me everything—your infiltration mission failed, huh? Now you're bumped down to No. 8? That makes me No. 5 now, so guess what? You'll have to listen to me from now on!"

Kiliai's voice was playful, but the undercurrent of mockery was impossible to miss. In the world of the Patriotis, rank was everything. Hachidori had just been demoted, and now he was beneath Kiliai in the hierarchy, bound to obey her.

—I'll kill you, you pest.

Hachidori swallowed his murderous thoughts, his gaze lowering to meet his colleague's gloating face. Kiliai’s short, boyish haircut, her bright, darting red eyes, and her incessantly moving mouth—she looked like any ordinary girl from the outside. But the truth was far more dangerous: Kiliai was an expert in poisons, unrivalled in her knowledge of their effects and remedies. If she so much as scratched you, you'd better be prepared for death.

—Of all people, why did it have to be her?

Hachidori inwardly cursed his luck, while Kiliai continued to prattle on.

"Oh, and by the way, Atori and Renjaku are back from Harmonia. Unlike you, they actually completed their mission. Have you bumped into them yet?"

At the mention of Atori and Renjaku—Patriotis’s top two agents—Hachidori felt a cold chill run through him.

"They’re in Pleiades?"

"Yeah, you might run into them. Just watch your mouth and attitude, or you might get beaten down again."

"…"

The bitter taste of old memories seeped into Hachidori's thoughts. Kiliai had a way of digging into his deepest scars, and he hated her for it.

"People have to know their limits," she said with a smile. "Push too far, and you'll end up getting crushed, just like last time. They don't mess around, you know."

Hachidori’s mind flashed back to his childhood days, during the gruelling training that had shaped them into Patriotis agents. Back then, his pride had driven him to challenge Atori and Renjaku—and he had been beaten nearly to death for it.

He hadn’t even landed a blow. Before he could comprehend what was happening, they had pinned him to the ground and broken his fingers, one by one.

"Cry."

That had been Atori’s only command. Hachidori had endured it for as long as he could, but when Atori moved to break his thumb, nine-year-old Hachidori had finally cried out for mercy.

Then, it had been Renjaku’s turn. Despite his broken hand, Hachidori had tried to fight, but Renjaku deflected every blow and countered with brutal precision.

Renjaku had pummelled him until he collapsed, ribs broken and lungs punctured. Hachidori had cried and begged for the beating to stop, and when it finally did, he had been left lying in a heap, his face swollen beyond recognition. His fellow Patriotis had watched, some with pity, others with amusement, as he lay there humiliated.

"I remember that tear-streaked face of yours. It was hilarious," Kiliai said, her laughter filled with mockery. "Honestly, you should be glad you’re still alive. They could’ve killed you."

Hachidori's hands twitched involuntarily, forming into claws as he imagined crushing her throat. But he knew better—Kiliai was dangerous, her body likely laced with poisons.

"You staying around here for a while?" Kiliai asked, oblivious to the dark thoughts crossing Hachidori’s mind. "Well, don't mess up again. Two failures in a row, and we’re done for. No joke."

She waved nonchalantly and walked away, heading toward Zenon's office to receive her next assignment.

"…Poison witch," Hachidori muttered under his breath as he turned away. The encounter had dredged up memories he had hoped to forget.

—Forget them. These colleagues are nothing.

The Patriotis agents worked alone most of the time, rarely crossing paths. Even when they did, there was little reason to acknowledge one another. They had no camaraderie—Kiliai’s chattiness was the exception, not the norm. And if Zenon ordered it, Kiliai wouldn’t hesitate to poison him, either. Friendship, even the faintest sense of loyalty, was non-existent.

—Unlike the "Seven of Eriadore."

—They vowed eternal friendship, even if their nations became enemies.

The thought briefly crossed Hachidori's mind, but he quickly shoved it aside. Comparing officer cadets' naive friendships to the Patriotis was absurd. For soldiers, friendship might be an asset, but for special agents like him, it was a liability—a tool for manipulation, nothing more.

—Don’t be stupid. You’re getting soft.

He scolded himself and refocused.

Tomorrow, he would head to Lamia Palace for his new assignment—guarding Nina Viento and training Mio.

Failure was not an option. If Nina were assassinated, Hachidori’s reputation as "useless" would be cemented, and his life would be forfeit. Zenon had likely sent other Patriotis agents to guard Prince Demistri, which meant Hachidori might have to face Atori or Renjaku. The Patriotis had no loyalty to one another—Zenon could command them to kill each other with a snap of his fingers. Their sole loyalty was to him.

—Stay sharp. Stay focused. No more failures.

—Train Mio and protect Nina Viento’s life at all costs.

With renewed determination, Hachidori left the Uranos Intelligence Headquarters, knowing that his survival depended on success.

The next day—

After reading the introduction letter from Zenon, Ulshyrra, the countess handling external affairs at Lamia Palace, fixed her cold, mechanical gaze on Reiner Beck, also known as Hachidori.

“We already have seasoned Royal Guards assigned to Lady Nina's protection.”

Reiner flashed a casual smile and gave a prepared answer.

“Well, our boss is the cautious type, you see. We can't afford anything to happen to Lady Nina before the December Holy Festival. I'll be protecting her in my own way, so as long as the guards don’t mind me, it’s all good.”

“And how can we be sure you won’t harm her?”

“If you’re worried about my character, feel free to ask Mio. We’ve been together since our days at Air Hunt Academy, so she knows me well. Besides, our boss was the one who brought Lady Nina to Pleiades in the first place. It’d be a huge win for us if she ascends to the throne, so we’re committed to protecting her. That’s why I was sent—pretty simple.”

Reiner explained with a grin, maintaining a light-hearted demeanour. Staying in Lamia Palace as Reiner instead of Hachidori made it easier to communicate with Mio, and Reiner was aware of this tactical advantage. Even though Hachidori observed through Reiner’s eyes, staying in this persona was convenient.

“As I mentioned, your role as a bodyguard will be kept secret to avoid backlash from the Royal Guards. You will be introduced as a gardener, an acquaintance of Mio.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Mio’s training will take place in secret, away from prying eyes. I still question the necessity of combat training for her, but if it’s Zenon’s will…”

“She’s already serving as Lady Nina’s bodyguard, so she’ll benefit from being more combat-ready. She’s already got a year of training under her belt—better than most soldiers. A bit more, and she’ll be able to kill a cow barehanded.”

Ulshyrra gave only a cold glance in response to Reiner's grin, then placed the official paperwork approving Reiner's presence in the "approved" folder. Once Nina signed it later, Reiner would officially be a live-in gardener at Lamia Palace.

After thanking Ulshyrra, Reiner left the reception room and headed to the palace’s garden.

It was already evening. Reiner stretched under the crimson sky, already dressed in the gardener’s uniform, complete with pruning shears and a sickle strapped to her belt.

“Well then... time for a little reunion.”

Reiner strolled leisurely through the palace, exchanging greetings with servants and gardeners, inquiring about Mio’s whereabouts.

He was directed to the chapel at the edge of the grounds, a building with a triangular roof and the Saint Aldista emblem engraved on the bronze door.

Reiner pushed open the heavy door and entered.

The beams of light filtering through narrow windows bathed the chapel in a warm amber hue. At the altar in the back, Mio was quietly polishing bronze holy objects.

From where Reiner stood, Mio’s profile was illuminated in the soft light, making her appear like a forgotten doll or a worn-out painting.

“Busy with something dull, huh?”

At the sound of her voice, Mio turned to face her.

“I figured we’d run into each other again, but didn’t expect it this soon,” Reiner quipped, continuing the light banter. Mio remained silent, her mouth barely opening in response.

“Guess we’re bound by fate. Sorry, but there’s no escaping me,” Reiner teased with a grin, walking toward the altar. She passed through beams of light, stopping just in front of Mio.

Mio’s expression briefly flickered with surprise, but it quickly returned to a calm stillness.

“You’re alive.”

The words were dry, barely more than a whisper.

“Like I’d die that easily.”

“...Did the mission fail? Was it... because of Kiyoaki?”

Mio’s face tightened at the mention of Kiyoaki. Reiner sat down on the front pew, looking up at her.

“If you don’t want to hear it, I won’t talk about what happened next. Your call.”

Mio gripped the cloth she was holding tightly, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“Is it... a long story?”

“Could be. A lot happened.”

“...Tell me. I want to know.”

Mio placed the holy object back on the altar, then sat next to Reiner on the pew. Reiner scratched the back of her head with a sigh.

“Before I start, you’re not going to ask why I’m here?”

“...I don’t care.”

“Wow, cold. I thought we were part of the Seven of Eriadore.”

“…”

At the mention of “the Seven of Eriadore,” Mio’s face twisted with visible pain. Clearly, the memories still haunted her deeply.

Seeing that expression, something stirred uncomfortably in Reiner's chest. She didn’t know why.

Changing her tone to something more upbeat, Reiner began the story.

“Let’s see… I guess it starts back in September of last year, when Uranos ambushed Air Hunt. After you left with Uranos’s airship, that’s when things got really interesting.”

Mio nodded solemnly, bracing herself for the story that followed.

Reiner then began recounting the events that had unfolded after Mio’s departure from Air Hunt.

As Reiner recounted the events that had transpired after they parted ways, Mio sat quietly, her gaze lowered. Reiner explained the fate of the Air Hunt Academy after its buildings were damaged: how Kiyoaki, Reiner, Illia, and Cecil had been transferred to the Selfaust Officer Academy. After graduating, they were assigned to the Voltec Air Squadron, fought in the Sierra Greed Sea Battle, and eventually, Kiyoaki and Kagura were captured. He told how Balthazar had successfully helped them escape, but because of Kiyoaki's accusations, Reiner had to flee as well. Reiner finished his recounting with his usual sarcastic grin.

"And that's why I’m here now. Quite a rollercoaster, huh? The seven of us are scattered, everyone’s back in their own countries, and meeting up again? Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon."

Mio listened quietly, her eyes downcast, before murmuring softly, almost to herself.

“So… Kiyoaki and Kagura… went back to the Federation…”

“If they stayed in St Vault, they’d have been executed as spies. So yeah, it was their only option.”

“Balthazar… helping them escape…”

“Seems like he’s into Kagura or something. Not sure about the details, but they kissed when they parted.”

Mio’s eyes widened in shock for the first time that day.

“Balthazar and Kagura… kissed?”

“Oh yeah, a real kiss. Like, "je t'aime" or "I love you" kind of kiss.”

“Really? Them? I can’t believe it…”

Mio blushed, pressing her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Finally, showing some reaction, Reiner couldn’t help but push further.

“And then, Kiyoaki was all over Illia.”

“What…?”

“I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked like they were having a hard time letting go.”

Mio’s expression tightened as she absorbed that information. Her eyes filled with sorrow.

“… I see…”

Her voice, though calm, was a clear effort to maintain composure. She bowed her head again, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“… So… Kiyoaki and Illia… they’re like that now…”

Reiner could see the storm of emotions swirling inside her. He hadn’t meant anything by his comment, just light banter, but it was clear that Mio had taken it hard.

For some reason, his chest ached. He didn’t understand why.

“They’re not together. They didn’t kiss or anything. They’ve flown together a lot in combat, so they’re close, but Kiyoaki’s too much of a coward to make a move. He could, but he doesn’t.”

Reiner’s crude joke managed to soften Mio’s hardened expression, bringing a faint flush of colour back to her face.

“… I see…”

But the sadness still overflowed from her, visible even to Reiner.

—She’s really hurting…

That ache in his chest grew stronger, turning into a deep throb.

Mio, cloaked in sorrow like a worn-out coat, stirred something inside Reiner that he had never felt before. Her current face overlapped with the memory of her smiling back at Air Hunt Academy, a time that now seemed so far away, even though it had only been a year.

Everything had changed.

Reiner, who had never felt sympathy for others, suddenly had the urge to comfort her, to make her feel safe.

He spoke without being asked.

“Kiyoaki doesn’t hate you, you know. He understands why you left, even though you lied.”

Mio remained silent, her head still bowed, but Reiner continued.

“None of us think you betrayed us by choice. We know your family pushed you into it.”

Slowly, Mio raised her head, looking at Reiner with eyes like a small, frightened animal. He shrugged.

“Your lies were obvious, you know. You’re a terrible spy. After winter break, when you came back all different, we all figured something happened at home. Then, when we heard about your dad getting arrested as a spy, we were like, oh, that explains it.”

“…”

“They still believe you didn’t want to be a spy. Your sudden change was suspicious, sure, but they still see you as a friend. Sorry, but they haven’t forgotten about you. You’re still one of them.”

Reiner finished with a sigh, sneaking a glance at Mio.

Her green eyes were wide with surprise.

“Why…? I’m a traitor…”

“Because they’re all soft-hearted. And you’re a terrible actor.”

As Reiner watched, he noticed that the sadness around Mio was starting to lift.

—She must have been beating herself up this whole time.

He realized it now. The icy barrier she had built around herself was beginning to melt in the faded light of the chapel.

Sensing the mood getting a bit too serious, Reiner cracked another joke to lighten the air.

“What’s with that face? Are you about to cry? You can cry on my chest all night if you want.”

He spread his arms wide in a mock embrace, but Mio glared at him sharply, her voice trembling slightly.

“…I’m not going to cry, idiot…”

But even as she spoke, her voice carried the weight of tears. It was clear she was deeply touched that her friends still believed in her.

—She’s still holding on to the Seven of Eriadore… especially Kiyoaki.

Reiner’s chest throbbed again, more intensely this time.

Mio wiped her eyes once, then turned away from Reiner to gaze out at the stained glass windows. She stretched, as if trying to shake off her feelings.

“… Is everyone okay? No one’s hurt?”

Her back still to him, she asked quietly.

“They’re all fine. Everyone’s doing pretty well, actually. Especially Kiyoaki and Illia—they’re both on track to become ace pilots. Future sky kings, maybe.”

“I see… that makes sense… they’ll do fine…”

Her voice was soft, filled with distant thoughts.

“They might all meet again someday, so don’t be too down.”

After a brief pause, Mio nodded without turning around.

“… We won’t meet again. Never.”

Her voice, now brittle and cold, sounded like rusted metal.

“Maybe not. But hey, lighten up. I’m sticking around for a while, so if you’re all gloomy, it’ll rub off on me. Let’s take it easy, yeah?”

Reiner forced a laugh, trying to keep the mood light. But the pain in his chest kept swelling, threatening to spill out of his mouth if he let his guard down.

—What’s the point of dwelling on the past?

—And why won’t she look at me?

—Look at me!

He fought the urge to shout these thoughts at her as she kept her back to him, seemingly lost in her own world.

In that instant, Reiner's thoughts spiralled into chaos.

—I’ll never meet Kiyoaki again.

—In two or three years, he’ll forget about you.

—Why are you still clinging to someone like him?

These thoughts, totally unbecoming of an S-rank operative like Patriotis, coursed through his mind. Normally, Hachidori would berate him from within for such sentimentality, but strangely, the voice remained silent, buried deep in his subconscious. Reiner noticed the unfamiliar irritation welling up inside him and took a deep breath to steady himself. Something was off.

He needed to get to the point.

"So, here’s the deal: Zenon wants me to teach you assassination techniques. We’ll train in secret at night."

Without looking directly at Reiner, Mio nodded slightly. She was unable to defy Zenon’s demands, knowing her family was being held hostage.

"Someone might try to assassinate Nina, so knowing how to kill will only help you. It’ll also give you the skills to protect yourself. Anyway, that’s the deal. Let’s work together."

“…Yeah. Okay.”

"And if you ever feel lonely, let me know. I’ll comfort you."

Reiner forced a crude smile as he said this, watching Mio frown in response.

"…You haven’t changed. And where’s Hachidori?"

"Oh, I dunno. He hasn’t said anything for a while. Maybe he’s taking a nap."

“…A nap? Fine. As long as I don’t have to see him again."

"Don’t worry, he hates you too. The moment he heard I was assigned to the Lamia Palace, he threw all the work at me. But if you slack off in training, he might pop back up."

Mio grimaced at the thought, and Reiner chuckled as he left the chapel. Carrying her cleaning supplies, Mio followed him outside, gazing up at the now-darkened sky.

The everlasting torches cast a dim orange glow over the palace, illuminating Mio in their soft light.

"…Reiner."

“Hm?”

Mio hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly as she cast her gaze downward once more.

Reiner laughed.

“What is it?”

“…”

"Come on, spit it out. Whether it's a complaint or an insult, I’ll listen. It might be fun."

“It’s not that… I just…”

Once again, Mio fumbled for words, finally looking up at him.

“…Thank you. I’m glad you came.”

“….”

“You’re not a bad person. I know that. So… thanks. Let’s keep working together.”

Mio’s voice was halting, but sincere. Reiner fought to keep his heartbeat steady and his usual nonchalant demeanour intact.

"Ah, c’mon, no need to get all formal. Of course, I’m a good guy. Anyone can see that."

He grinned, but Mio only managed a small, awkward smile, as though trying to force herself to laugh and failing.

“…Says the spy.”

There was a slight warmth behind her words. Reiner grinned wider.

"You're one too, you know."

"…Yeah. I am."

"Exactly. We’re both traitors, so let’s just keep going, licking our wounds as we go."

He shrugged dramatically, gazing up at the stars, and finally, Mio let out a small, stiff laugh.

—She looks better when she smiles.

Reiner couldn't help but think that. It was a realization that felt both familiar and strange to him.

Sensing the intensity in his chest growing stronger, he scanned their surroundings, looking for an excuse to leave.

"Anyway, I gotta go. Where’s Tower Two? I’m supposed to stay there."

“…Follow me. I’ll show you."

Mio lit a lantern and led the way through the dimly lit palace grounds. As they walked, a few towers stood out against the night, their outlines illuminated by the flickering torches. Reiner guessed one of them must be his destination.

Suddenly, a guard stepped out from the shadows and approached them.

Judging by his armour, he was one of the night patrol guards, holding a spear almost twice his height as he moved toward them.

“Oh, Igna,” Mio called out. The guard stopped and raised his head to look at Reiner.

“Who is this?”

His tone was immediately harsh and confrontational. Mio began to explain.

“Didn’t Ulshyrra tell you? He’s my friend and the new gardener…”

Before she could finish, Igna’s eyes flared with anger as he barked a warning.

“Get away from him, Mio!”

The spear’s tip was suddenly an inch from Reiner’s forehead.

—Switch.

“Got it.”

In a fraction of a second, Reiner dodged the spear thrust by leaning back just in time for Hachidori to take over, his consciousness rising to the surface and seizing control.

“Igna!?”

Mio’s voice was filled with panic as Ignacio launched a series of rapid spear strikes at Hachidori. Each thrust cut through the air with deadly force.

But Hachidori dodged every blow effortlessly, moving with the grace of a handball as he unsheathed the sickle hanging from his belt.

The steel blade gleamed in the torchlight.

Crouching low, Hachidori assumed a combat stance, grinning fiercely.

"You're pretty aggressive."

Ignacio maintained his guard, spear still raised.

"Assassins have a distinct smell."

"You’re like a dog."

"The stench of death is all over you. How many have you killed?"

"You'll be the twenty-eighth."

The moment those words left his mouth, Hachidori, moving with inhuman speed, dodged another thrust and closed the gap between them.

His sickle sliced through the air toward Ignacio's throat.

But the blow was blocked by the shaft of the spear.

Sparks flew as Ignacio deflected the strike, immediately countering with a leg sweep aimed at Hachidori’s feet.

“Tch.”

Hachidori leapt, avoiding the sweep.

As he landed, the butt of Ignacio’s spear was already flying toward his face.

"Hmph."

Hachidori barely dodged the strike by jerking his head to the side. If it had hit, it would have likely killed him on the spot.

The close call only served to fuel his growing rage.

"I’ll kill you."

Raising the sickle in front of his face, he made his decLalation in a low voice. He would make this mere guard regret picking a fight with a Patriotis.

"Try it."

Ignacio, his silver hair flowing in the night wind, repositioned the spear at his side and replied curtly.

A gust of wind kicked up dust between them, and sparks from the torch exploded in the space between them.

In the split second that Hachidori was about to step forward──

"Stop this."

A girl's voice cut through the silence.

Mio gasped in surprise.

"Lady Nina…!"

Recognizing her voice, Hachidori immediately set his sickle on the ground and knelt.

Nina Viento, in a white blouse and navy skirt, gazed down at Hachidori's bowed head with calm eyes.

Ignacio quickly moved in front of Nina, keeping his guard up and the spear aimed at Hachidori.

"Igna, it’s alright. He’s an ally dispatched by Mr. Zenon."

"……………………"

"He’s disguised as a gardener to protect me. He’s not a threat."

Only after Nina’s reassurance did Ignacio finally lower the spear and step back to her side.

In a calm tone, Nina addressed Hachidori.

"I haven’t informed the soldiers of your true identity. Apologies for Ignacio’s response."

Hachidori, still bowing his head, replied,

"We were merely playing."

At his dismissive tone, Ignacio shot Hachidori a glare of clear disapproval.

"From now on, work in cooperation with the royal guards."

"Yes, ma’am."

"…Mio, it’s time."

"Oh, right. Yes, I’m coming."

With Nina’s prompt, Mio followed her toward the round tower.

Ignacio cast a sidelong glare at Hachidori.

"…If you show any suspicious behaviour, I’ll throw you out."

He spat out his warning before turning on his heel. Hachidori called after him provocatively.

"Think you can do it?"

Ignacio glanced back with a single, murderous look before disappearing into the night without further words.

──This might be pretty entertaining.

Leaving behind that silent thought, Hachidori relinquished control to Reiner.

"I’d rather live peacefully, but you’re always picking fights with the guards," Reiner muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Hachidori’s earlier response had been curt, as usual, but now he retreated, allowing Reiner to handle the more mundane aspects of their double life.

As Reiner approached the second tower, he couldn’t help but reflect on the brief exchange between Nina and Ignacio. Nina had effortlessly defused the situation, her mere presence commanding respect and compliance from those around her, even someone as fiercely protective as Ignacio. Her calm demeanour and quiet authority were impressive, especially considering her young age and the burden she carried.

For Reiner, there was a part of him that admired Nina’s ability to maintain such composure, but there was also something about her that stirred a strange unease in him. She was a central figure in this complex political web, and Reiner knew better than to underestimate her.

Reaching Tower Two, Reiner glanced around, his eyes scanning the darkened surroundings. The night was calm, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the quiet hum of crickets in the distance. The flickering torches cast long shadows, stretching across the stone pathways and creating an eerie, yet oddly peaceful, atmosphere.

The door to the tower creaked as Reiner pushed it open, the hinges groaning from years of disuse. Inside, the small room was sparse—just a bed, a desk, and a single chair by the window. It was modest, but sufficient for his needs.

He threw himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his mission here. He had a job to do: train Mio in the ways of assassination, protect Nina, and above all, ensure that nothing jeopardized Zenon’s plans.

But as much as he tried to focus on his mission, Reiner couldn't shake the image of Mio’s face. Her vulnerability, her hesitation when she thanked him, and the way her expression softened when she realized that her former comrades hadn't abandoned her—all of it gnawed at him. He wasn’t used to feeling conflicted about his duties, but something about Mio stirred unfamiliar emotions in him.

"Get it together, Reiner," he whispered to himself, trying to push the thoughts away.

But even as he closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, the memory of Mio’s sad smile lingered, making sleep feel impossibly distant.

In the distance, the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the corridors of the Lamia Palace, the guards making their rounds. The night was settling in deeper, and while the palace itself was quiet, the undercurrents of tension that flowed beneath its surface never ceased.

Tomorrow, Reiner would begin Mio’s training. And though he tried to push the thoughts away, he couldn’t help but wonder how much this mission would change the both of them.

Part 18 (Part 4 of Volume 6)

It’s rare to have your abilities so openly tested like this.

There’s no doubt that this stage is one where ordinary people couldn’t even stand. It’s a trial that only I, with abilities three or four times better than the average person, could reach.

──This battle is worth pouring every bit of my skill into.

Staring at the terrain model before him, Balthazar Grim, newly promoted to captain, reviewed the units representing his forces and steeled himself for victory.

What was about to take place wasn’t a simple war game, like the exercises he’d done with his colleagues at the command headquarters.

The opponent he was facing in another room, also analysing the terrain model, was currently selecting their attack points. Separated in different rooms, neither could see the scale of the other’s forces or their route of attack, simulating actual battlefield conditions.

And this opponent was unlike any other he had ever faced.

In the room across the hall, behind closed doors, sat the chief strategist of the St Vault Archipelago Fleet, Vice Admiral Victor Kahn.

Imperial Year 1349, October, Sierra Greed, Santos Island.

Inside the operations headquarters established in the old city hall of Sierra Greed, surrounded by curious staff officers assigned to the island, Balthazar stood ready for the biggest challenge of his life, just one week after his rapid promotion to captain.

──It’s both a great opportunity and a dangerous pitfall.

──If I lose, the foolish and envious will pounce on my failure.

Balthazar’s meteoric rise to captain, an unheard-of achievement in the history of the naval and air forces, had earned him many jealous glares. Those who had been in the operations command from the start weren’t amused to see an outsider like Balthazar rise so smoothly through the ranks. The atmosphere made it clear that many were eagerly awaiting his failure.

──If I show even the slightest weakness, they’ll widen the wound and turn it into a fatal blow.

──I can’t afford to stumble here.

──This isn’t a drill. Treat it as if it were a real battle.

──Right now, I am responsible for the lives of thousands of soldiers as their chief strategist…!

With this self-encouragement, Balthazar focused all his attention on the highly detailed model of Solbur Island’s terrain, down to its elevation.

Solbur Island was home to Isrion, the capital of the Hydrabard Federation.

Balthazar was assigned to the defence, acting as the chief strategist for the Hydrabard army (the Allied Forces), freely positioning his forces to defend against the assault led by Vice Admiral Victor of the St Vault army (the Imperial Forces). Although it was a simulation for the November assault on Isrion, the high-ranking officers of the Imperial Army were more interested in determining whether Balthazar’s talent, which had garnered so much attention, was the real deal.

Victor had planned the "Thundersteel" operation, which decimated the Allied naval forces. Coordinating with the Akitsu Federation, he orchestrated a pincer attack on the Urano Air Fortress from the east and west, decisively shifting the course of the Hydrabard War. He was, in essence, the brain of the Imperial Army. That such a high-ranking figure would personally engage with a mere newly promoted captain like Balthazar was a testament to Balthazar’s growing reputation.

Balthazar had gained renown as the young commander who led a daring breakthrough mission using the Airship Eriadore… but that wasn’t all. He had also been the only one to predict Urano’s large-scale invasion operation, “Operation Judeka,” by identifying a slight discrepancy in data, accurately predicting the time and scale of the assault. But an even greater achievement followed.

Last month, the "Lost Princess Elizabeth," who held the key to winning the hearts of the people of Santos Island, suddenly sent a letter to the Emperor of St Vault. In it, she named Balthazar personally, stating, "As long as Lieutenant Grim requests it, the Sylvanian royal family will not hesitate to cooperate with the Empire."

Not only had he discovered the whereabouts of Elizabeth, whose survival had been uncertain, but somehow he had also gained her complete trust. She expressed her willingness to cooperate with the Empire at Balthazar’s request. If Santos Island, the key to the Multi-Island Archipelago War, promised full support for the Empire, the future would be exceptionally bright. For an Empire facing the Hydrabard Alliance and the Akitsu Federation on two fronts, securing a strong foothold on Santos Island was essential, and Balthazar had made that possible.

The achievements were too great and came too quickly.

Was he a genius or not?

Even the Imperial Operations Command could no longer ignore Balthazar. This was their chance to test if Balthazar truly was a genius.

──Prove yourself a genius, and you’ll be brought into the core of the Operations Command.

──Being merely talented isn’t enough. There are plenty of those.

──You must be an unparalleled genius with no equal.

But the challenge wasn’t easy.

The victory condition for the attacking side, led by Vice Admiral Victor, was the capture of Isrion, the capital.

The defending side, led by Balthazar and the Allied Forces, had to annihilate the landing forces to win.

From the moment he was assigned to defence, he was at a significant disadvantage.

In an amphibious assault, the attackers, who control the timing, location, and method of attack, have the advantage. Furthermore, this simulation mirrored real-world conditions, meaning that Victor’s forces likely outnumbered Balthazar’s by three to five times. To halt the enemy’s overwhelming numbers with limited forces, Balthazar would need to predict their invasion route accurately and position his forces accordingly.

──As the defender, I have the advantage of using the terrain.

──I must exploit that to the fullest, but… let’s see.

Staring at the model of Solbur Island, Balthazar began to trace Victor’s thoughts, trying to predict his strategy.

──There are two main routes for the landing forces to attack Isrion.

──One is the northern sea approach, landing at Nagar Bay for the shortest route to Isrion.

──The other is the southern sea approach, landing at Chiang Mai Bay, an indirect route.

If he could accurately predict which route Victor would choose, Balthazar could position his limited forces for an effective ambush.

──If they attack from the north, they’ll have to pass through narrow waters.

Nagar Bay was a long, narrow, U-shaped bay, similar to a pitcher plant. While it offered the shortest route to Isrion, with three nearby airfields and direct access to the capital via a main road, the landing zone was at the far end of the bay. Any invading fleet would be exposed to heavy fire from the steep cliffs along the way, making it a highly challenging landing site.

──If they attack from the south, they’ll be further from the capital, but the fleet will face fewer obstacles.

Chiang Mai Bay was C-shaped with a shallower indentation. It offered a wider beach for landing and allowed the fleet to operate with more freedom.

──Normally, the southern route is safer. However…

Balthazar delved deeper into Victor’s mindset.

──But landing is only the beginning. They still need to march on the capital.

The road from Chiang Mai Bay to Isrion was approximately 450 kilometres. Between them lay a mountainous region, out of range of naval bombardment, with narrow, poorly maintained roads. The threat of guerrilla attacks during the march added further risk.

──It’s possible they’ll attempt a two-pronged attack.

Victor might split his forces, launching simultaneous attacks on both Chiang Mai Bay and Nagar Bay, expecting Balthazar to focus his defences on one route and exploit the weaker side for a safer landing.

──Which will the admiral choose?

Staring at the terrain model wouldn't provide the answer.

In the records room where Balthazar was stationed, there were three operations staff officers, one scribe, and a communications officer. Balthazar communicated his next move to one of the staff officers.

"I will initiate a submarine reconnaissance."

"Allied forces, initiating submarine reconnaissance," the staff officer nodded as the communications officer left the room to inform the opposing team in the adjacent meeting room.

In the meeting room, along with Vice Admiral Victor, there were two air operations officers and one fleet operations officer. Upon receiving the communication, they rolled the dice and sent the results back to Balthazar.

"A submarine has been detected."

The returning communications officer placed a submarine piece on the model, marking its location on the route between Santos Island's Sierra Greed and Chiang Mai Bay.

Balthazar nodded, reasoning carefully.

──If a submarine is located here, it suggests suspicious activity around Chiang Mai Bay.

Submarines are reconnaissance units. They’re dispatched to observe enemy fleet movements and activity around the targeted landing area, sometimes sinking transport ships to isolate the defending forces from the sea.

──So, it's likely they're coming from the southern route…

Balthazar pressed forward with further reconnaissance.

"I'll conduct aerial reconnaissance, as well as gather communication intelligence and results from enemy interrogations."

Every time he issued an order to the staff officers, the communications officer left to deliver the instructions and returned with the results. While reconnaissance and attack outcomes were determined by dice rolls, if the dice results were unclear, Colonel Pendleton, acting as the game master in the opposing meeting room, would decide the likely outcome and relay it to the players.

When Balthazar received the reconnaissance, communication, and interrogation results, they all pointed to suspicious activity near Chiang Mai Bay.

──Quite a lot of information has surfaced.

All the intelligence seemed to indicate an invasion from the southern route. No matter how much reconnaissance was conducted in the northern route, nothing was found.

──It feels suspicious.

Balthazar crossed his arms and pondered.

Suddenly, he recalled something his former superior, Colonel Andy, had once told him.

“Once you’ve learned the subtleties of human emotions, there will be nothing left to fear.”

At the time, Balthazar hadn’t understood why he needed to learn about such things.

But now──he understood. The experience of making the decision to free Kiyoaki and Kagura from prison, and gaining the complete trust of the Sylvanian royal family as a result, lived on within him.

──Humans aren’t driven solely by logic; they are moved by emotion.

──In fact… most people are driven by emotion.

──At the root of emotion is "anxiety." Many people act through the lens of anxiety.

──The same applies on the battlefield.

──You’re not just analysing thoughts. You must also read the other person’s emotions… their anxiety.

Balthazar glared in the direction of the door, beyond which Victor was waiting, and pressed on with his deductions.

──This is a simulation. It’s a game between allies with defined rules.

──But the results of this game will influence my future standing in the operations command.

If Victor were to lose, it would be an embarrassment for the other officers. Under no circumstances could they afford to lose. They would need to prepare meticulously.

──The officers judging my abilities are the higher-ups in the operations command, not the ones here.

──To these staff officers, my presence is nothing but an eyesore.

──It’s entirely possible they’ve conspired beforehand to make me lose.

──Since the result of this game involves anxiety, they’ll want to increase their chances of winning…

Considering this, the fact that the game master had yet to visit Balthazar’s room seemed suspicious. According to the briefing before the exercise, the game master was supposed to move between rooms after each stage of the operation to ensure fairness.

Balthazar turned to the communications officer and calmly inquired,

"Is Colonel Pendleton and Vice Admiral Victor having any discussions?"

The communications officer’s face stiffened for a moment. The staff officers in the room exchanged glances.

"N-No, nothing of the sort."

The communications officer averted his gaze. Balthazar glanced at the scribe who had been documenting the conversation.

"I’d like a record of that conversation, please."

The scribe exchanged a look with one of the staff officers and began writing in the notebook. Balthazar then made a request to the staff officers.

"Would it be possible to bring Colonel Pendleton into this room?"

The staff officer's expression grew skeptical, his brow furrowing slightly.

"The plan is for Colonel Pendleton to come to this room once the landing operations begin. Are you dissatisfied with the current rulings?"

"I'm simply unclear on how Colonel Pendleton is determining the reconnaissance results."

"Do you also complain about the reconnaissance process on the battlefield?"

There was a clear hostility in the staff officer’s tone, aimed at the young newcomer.

"I apologize," Balthazar offered a brief apology and shifted his gaze back to the terrain map. However, internally, distrust towards the staff officers in the Sierra Greed Operations Command continued to swirl.

He had questioned the people in the room to observe their reactions. By deliberately making an excessive demand, he could gauge how they would respond. The results were suspicious all around.

──The communications officer's attitude clearly belonged to someone hiding something.

──The scribe exchanged a glance with the staff officers before resuming his notes.

──And the staff officer's angry tone was unnecessary if there was nothing to hide.

After analysing the situation, Balthazar arrived at a conclusion.

──It's highly likely they are conspiring.

──From the start, they intend to make me lose.

Balthazar was now certain of this.

It had always been this way since his commission. The more success he achieved, the colder the eyes of those around him became. There had even been instances where his reports were falsified.

──This was supposed to be the gathering of the brightest minds in St Vault, but in the end, they are just humans.

──No matter how old or high their rank, people cannot free themselves from their emotions…

He felt disillusioned by the depths of human nature. His enemy wasn't just Vice Admiral Victor. The three staff officers, the communications officer, and the scribe in the room were enemies too.

──In that case, what can I do?

──I must ensure that the higher-ups later question the fairness of this exercise.

──To do so, records will be crucial.

Balthazar turned his gaze back to the scribe.

"Please ensure that the earlier exchange between the staff officer and myself is also recorded."

He made the request again. The scribe hastily began writing. The staff officer, furrowing his brows even deeper, spoke in a sharp tone.

"What are you trying to pull?"

"I just want to ensure nothing is left out of the record."

"The only thing that needs recording is your placement decisions! There's no need to document our conversation!"

"I believe it will be useful for future study. After all, we have gathered some of the brightest minds here, and it would be valuable to review the entire exercise later. I also hope to learn as much as I can from Vice Admiral Victor’s strategies after the simulation."

Balthazar's logical explanation caused the staff officer to remain silent for a moment before replying in a low tone.

"You don't need to remind us; the exercise will be reviewed. If you're worried about fairness, it's unnecessary. Now, make your placement decisions quickly."

Returning his attention to the terrain map, Balthazar began deciding on the defensive positions.

From the exchanges so far, he was now certain of the enemy’s attack route.

──They're coming from the northern route.

──They're planning to overpower us with sheer numbers.

Balthazar concentrated his ground forces at the narrow beaches of Nagar Bay. He placed artillery on the cliffs and positioned torpedo boats within the bay, while allocating a large number of interceptors to the three airfields.

──The key to this is the destroyers.

The Hydrabard Allied Fleet had taken massive damage in the Battle of Sierra Greed, but its destroyer units were still intact. If used properly, they could deal a heavy blow to the enemy. Balthazar had a plan in mind, but he was concerned about the possibility that the communications officer might leak his strategy to Victor.

Turning to the communications officer, Balthazar made another request.

"Before finalizing my placements, could you please take a photograph of Vice Admiral Victor’s deployments?"

The room's atmosphere instantly froze. One of the staff officers spoke sharply.

"What do you mean by that?"

"To ensure the integrity of the review."

"Are you suggesting the admiral would change his deployment after learning yours?"

The staff officer’s tone, though calm, carried clear anger.

Feigning humility, Balthazar continued.

"Of course not. It's merely to streamline the review process. I have no objection to having my placements photographed as well. I'm sure the admiral would appreciate the accuracy of the simulation."

Without changing his expression, he responded logically. After a tense silence, Balthazar turned to the communications officer.

"Please proceed with the photographs. Once it's done, we can begin the battle, and I'd appreciate it if Colonel Pendleton could join us here promptly."

As the staff officers' expressions grew increasingly tense, the communications officer grabbed a camera and headed to the opposite room.

Balthazar, watching the officer leave, picked up the pieces representing his destroyer units. With the threat of leakage minimized, he could now proceed with confidence.

──If the Allied Forces have any chance of victory…

He prepared to execute his masterstroke.

──This is it.

As Balthazar positioned the destroyer units, all the staff officers in the room gasped.

At the same time, the communications officer returned, accompanied by a visibly displeased Colonel Pendleton.

"I've taken the photograph."

"Please give me the camera."

Balthazar took the camera, verified that only one picture had been taken, then photographed his own map.

"That makes two photographs. No more are needed… Colonel, the placements are now finalized. You may begin the battle."

Colonel Pendleton glanced briefly at Balthazar’s terrain map, his face turning pale.

"…Very well. Then, let the battle begin."

Seeing the slight trembling of the colonel’s lips, Balthazar inwardly relished the moment.

As predicted by Balthazar, the St Vault Empire’s mobile fleet launched its attack from the northern route early in the morning. Their first move was to strike the Hydrabard Allied Forces’ artillery positioned on the cliffs with airstrikes. Though the Allied Forces mustered their limited air power to intercept, they were vastly outnumbered, and most of the cliff artillery was destroyed. Emboldened by this success, the Empire’s fleet, led by its battleships, moved into the narrow bay, aiming to secure the beachhead.

It was then that the Allied torpedo boat squadron, previously stationed in the area, struck. In the confined waters, the large battleships were perfect targets for the torpedo boats. Although the torpedo squadron was wiped out, they managed to heavily damage two battleships and sink one heavy cruiser.

Despite the successful counterattack, the disparity in firepower was overwhelming. While Balthazar's predictions had been flawless, there was no countering the sheer might of the Imperial fleet. By evening, the Empire had secured a foothold at Nagar Bay and began unloading supplies from their transport ships. Balthazar ordered his ground forces to pull back and establish a defensive line in front of the capital, Isrion.

Night fell. The Imperial fleet left Nagar Bay, heading toward the waters near Isrion to bombard the remaining Allied forces. At Nagar Bay, the unloading of supplies was completed, and a fortified beachhead was established.

Then, just as night descended, the Allied destroyer fleet that had set sail from the Karanakuta Fortress, along with transport ships, charged into the bay.

No one had anticipated this—an unexpected counter-landing operation.

The transport ships carried army soldiers stationed at the Karanakuta Fortress.

Balthazar’s bold gambit had caught the Imperial forces off guard. Armies are designed to unleash their maximum firepower against frontal assaults, leaving them defenceless when attacked from behind. With the success of the counter-landing, the Allied forces also advanced their defensive lines, launching a surprise attack on the Empire’s complacent troops stationed at their newly established beachhead.

The Imperial landing forces on the beach were now caught in a pincer attack, squeezed between the Allied forces from both land and sea.

──Now, it’s all down to the roll of the dice.

With a silent prayer, Balthazar rolled the dice, which smiled favourably upon him.

The unusual military simulation concluded with a decisive result just two hours after it began.

Despite being a mere exercise, the outcome was something that should never have happened. A heavy silence hung over the two terrain boards.

The victor, Balthazar, calmly removed the defeated Imperial landing units from the board and addressed the staff officers in his usual composed tone.

"The dice were in my favour."

The staff officers were momentarily at a loss for words. One of the naval officers finally spoke up.

"…A reverse landing is unprecedented in the history of the archipelago wars. In this case, it succeeded because the Imperial fleet had left Nagar Bay and the night-time incursion was successful, but in reality, the risk of breaking through a small, enemy-controlled sea would be too great. Furthermore, considering the training level of the Hydrabard Army, such a manoeuvre would be impossible."

Balthazar swallowed the urge to say, "I don’t care about your personal opinion. With the overwhelming difference in power, my only option was to bet on the reverse landing." Instead, he responded diplomatically.

"You’re absolutely right. Such an operation would be unlikely in real life."

Holding back further comments like "At least be cautious," Balthazar left the room, greeted the defeated Admiral Victor, and apologized for the earlier requests for confirmation, repeatedly attributing his success to good fortune to maintain good relations. Later, at the dinner, he remained modest and assured everyone that if he were assigned to the Operations Headquarters, he would work cooperatively and diligently. Late at night, he finally left the officers' mess hall, alone.

Horse-drawn carriages were the main mode of transportation on Santos Island. Balthazar hailed a local carriage to take him back to the officers' quarters.

It had been a productive day.

The results of the military simulation would be reported to the commanders of the Operations Headquarters. If they had any sense, Balthazar would be assigned to the St Vault Naval and Air Force Operations Headquarters. It seemed he was well on his way to participating in strategic planning at the heart of the St Vault military.

──I’ve won the biggest challenge of my life. This is my greatest achievement to date.

He allowed himself a moment of self-satisfaction.

But strangely, the feeling of accomplishment was faint. He should have been more excited, but since the exercise had ended, he had felt a cold, dry wind passing through his chest.

──I’ve proven my genius. Even veteran staff officers can’t compete with me.

He repeated the self-praise, but instead of joy, an inexplicable emptiness began to settle over him.

He glanced out the window. The street lamps illuminated a townscape with patches of roofing tiles still damaged from repeated air raids. As the gateway to the northern and southern archipelagos, Santos Island had been ravaged by war multiple times. There were no signs of reconstruction, but large construction machines could be seen digging holes throughout the island.

Ever since arriving on Santos Island, Balthazar had noticed these strange, gaping holes everywhere, as if someone was trying to dig up a new vein of valuable resources. It was said that the hidden treasure of the Sylvania royal family, worth 50 billion pesos, lay buried somewhere on the island. The rumour had been dismissed by the Operations Command as baseless, but private investors and corporations, driven by greed, had swarmed the island and were digging wherever they thought it might be.

How foolish.

Balthazar snorted at the thought and turned his attention back to the street. In stark contrast to the avaricious St Vault citizens, the displaced, homeless residents wrapped in tattered blankets lay sleeping on the side of the road. Bare-chested children with sombre eyes watched Balthazar's carriage pass by.

It felt as if the island’s dark atmosphere was seeping into his lungs. He wondered if the melancholy came from the island itself.

──No, that’s not it.

──That’s not it…

Balthazar tried to pinpoint the source of his emptiness.

In the darkness outside the window, the smiling face of Kagura Murasaki appeared.

"…Ridiculous."

He immediately dismissed the thought.

He didn’t need sentimentality within himself. Any emotions that manipulated common folk should be immediately purged. He must constantly check his inner self and rid it of any trivial thoughts that crept in.

──I have ambitions to seize a nation.

──Wait and see, old man. I’ll make sure you eat your words…

In the back of his mind, he could see the stern, expressionless face of his grandfather, Renior, the man who had built the Berner conglomerate from scratch.

Balthazar's only rival—the one person he still believed he couldn’t defeat. Even after outmanoeuvring Admiral Victor, he still wasn’t confident he could surpass his grandfather.

Everyone else had bowed before Balthazar.

But his grandfather would still mock him, looking down with contempt and arrogance. Even with all Balthazar’s accomplishments, he was still far from measuring up to him.

His guts boiled with anger.

──I am not just Renior’s grandson.

──You will be remembered in history as Balthazar’s grandfather, you damn old man.

──I will soon reach your throne. Wash your neck and wait for me…

Balthazar gazed out of the window, painting the scenery with the colour of his hatred. It was this hatred that fuelled him.

Only through hatred could he endure the annoyance of dealing with the dull and incompetent masses.

──Hatred alone is enough to keep me alive.

──I don’t need any of those soft emotions…

As he glanced out the window again, the image of Kagura’s smile layered itself over his hatred for Renior. His chest tightened painfully, and he hurriedly pushed Kagura’s image away.

──What am I thinking? Foolishness.

──Kagura has nothing to do with this. It doesn’t matter what happens to her.

──Keep your hatred burning. Don’t lose yourself.

──Hatred is the primal force that drives me forward…

Balthazar forced himself to summon more hatred, though it came with a dull, aching emptiness. As the carriage swayed, the sense of suffocation grew. He closed his eyes, but neither the emptiness nor the suffocation subsided. Kagura’s smile continued to float in the darkness behind his eyelids.

"I love you, Balthazar."

The carefree words Kagura had spoken at their parting echoed in his ears.

"We’ll meet again. I know we will. When you’ve become even greater."

A month ago, she had stood on the outer edge of the flying fortress Odin, smiling softly as the wind swept around them.

"Become the kind of person who can change the world with your own power, and then we’ll meet again."

Balthazar opened his eyes and stared out the window at the sky. Several bright stars flickered beyond the city lights.

──I’m moving forward, Kagura.

──Can you keep up with me?

He sent a silent challenge to Kagura, who was across the sea in an enemy nation. The emptiness in his chest seemed to ease slightly, replaced by something sweet creeping into his consciousness. He no longer felt the need to force it away, deciding instead to let himself indulge in that sweetness, if only for the moment.

──We’ll meet again, at the centre of this world.

He whispered the unspoken wish in his heart as the sound of horse hooves echoed faintly in his ears, allowing himself to drift into memories for a brief while.

Part 19 (Part 5 of Volume 6)

All the tormenting frustrations that had been weighing on him were swept away in a cold, blue rush, and he felt his self in the sky and his self on the ground gradually diverging from one another.

In this sky, the moment you let yourself be distracted by unnecessary emotions, that's when you die.

If he spent even a moment thinking about those who were gone, his reasons for fighting, or friends who might be flying in the same sky, his wings would be torn apart in an instant, his aircraft pierced by 20mm machine gun fire, his limbs shattered into pieces, and he'd be thrown into the middle of the blue expanse.

Human emotions were nothing but distractions up here. No, they weren't just distractions—they were the very embodiment of death itself. One lapse of focus, and the scythe would come for his neck.

──Just fight.

──Just shoot them down.

──I am but a piece of steel.

Fragments of the enemy plane, which had just exploded, struck his windshield. In the flames that bloomed before him, he saw dismembered limbs and splashes of blood.

Kiyoaki pierced through the wreckage, the three-bladed propeller roaring.

At an altitude of 4,000 meters, he performed a stall turn. His hawk-like eyes scanned the battlefield below.

──As expected, it's carrier-based aircraft.

──How long is this going to continue?

It was always the same: sporadic aerial raids by carrier-based planes launched from the enemy fleet. Rather than sending a massive wave of aircraft to force a decisive battle, they were strangling them bit by bit, like a slow tightening noose. For the Akitsu Federation, with its limited industrial power, such attacks were taking their toll. Messus Island Odessa was slowly being exhausted day by day, and the Odessa Air Squadron was losing more pilots over time.

October, late in the Imperial Year 1349, Messus Island Odessa──.

"Sakagami Squadron, ignore the enemy's cover fighters. Take down the bombers," came the instruction from Maolong, the flight squad leader, over the radio.

"Roger," Kiyoaki responded, flanked by his wingmen as they set their sights on the enemy bombers approaching Messus Island.

"Take them down to your heart's content, Lieutenant Sakagami!"

"We’ll protect you no matter what!"

His loyal wingmen, Jadamba Dambazolik and Nyutabaru Rensuke, responded as they always did. It had been three weeks since they'd been assigned as Kiyoaki's wingmen, and their formation flying had significantly improved.

"Don't chase them too far. Don't be reckless."

Kiyoaki issued his now-familiar warning as they spotted the enemy bombers and began their dive.

On either side, Dambazolik and Rensuke followed. Their ability to keep up with the rapid descent was a testament to their rigorous ground training. Since they had been assigned to Kiyoaki's squadron at his direct request, they had become, quite literally, his shields.

Below, at an altitude of 2,000 meters, the shadows of twenty Imperial Navy twin-seat carrier bombers, "Red Goat," were growing larger. Kiyoaki had flown that very model on patrol missions several times. He'd even ridden in one with Mio when they were attacked by an Idra and crash-landed on a deserted island. But there was no time for sentiment now.

──Now, they're just enemy planes.

The enemy still hadn't noticed their rapid descent. The fuselage of the "Red Goat" aircraft was beginning to fill his gunsight. His finger pressed the trigger without hesitation.

He dove past the flaming wreckage of what had been a "Red Goat" mere seconds ago. The deep blue sea loomed closer with every blink. Dambazolik and Rensuke followed behind, as steady as shadows.

The radio crackled.

"Enemy aircraft, rear left!!"

Kiyoaki turned his head toward Dambazolik's warning. Three enemy "Beo-Eagle" fighter planes were diving in from above, chasing Kiyoaki's group. It was retaliation for taking out one of their bombers in a single strike.

──They're in a superior position.

In a dogfight between fighter planes, altitude gave a decisive advantage. With the enemy directly behind them, Kiyoaki and his squadron were in a seriously disadvantaged position.

But.

──If we run, we'll be caught.

──This is a fight.

He quickly issued orders over the radio.

"Vertical loop, aim for the squad leader! Do not break formation!!"

"Yes, sir!"

With the order given, and the enemy closing in to about 500 meters, Kiyoaki pulled back on the control stick.

The sea vanished from the front of his view. The horizon briefly appeared before being replaced by the deep blue of the sky above. Successfully completing the most dangerous part of the manoeuvre, Kiyoaki led his squadron into a loop.

The turning performance of the Murasame and the Beo-Eagle were roughly the same. Now, it would come down to the skill of the pilots.

──I have to make this loop as tight as possible…

Through his experience in previous dogfights, Kiyoaki had discovered that slightly twisting the plane while looping allowed for a smaller turning radius than a perfectly smooth loop. However, twisting too much would cause the plane to stall, so he had to find the perfect balance. It was one thing to understand this in theory; executing it in real combat required an extraordinary level of courage.

──Please, Damba, Rensuke, follow me…

Kiyoaki prayed for his wingmen as he carefully twisted his plane. His hands were slick with sweat, and he had to concentrate with all his might to pull off the delicate manoeuvre. Glancing back, he could see the enemy fighters tenaciously chasing him.

──I can't lose.

The sea, the horizon, and the sky alternated rapidly in front of him as he endured the crushing G-forces, gritting his teeth, drawing a slightly tilted loop in the sky.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered the mock dogfights he'd repeatedly practiced with Illia back at the Air Hunt Academy.

──This manoeuvre… it's close to the one Illia talked about…

Over a year ago, Illia had asked Kiyoaki to repeatedly practice a manoeuvre that his father had perfected—a loop in combat.

Illia had explained that there was a "vacuum zone" near the top of a twisted loop, where, with precise control of all three rudders, a pilot could instantly flip behind their opponent. There was only one man who had ever mastered that technique and earned the title of "King of the Skies."

──The Karsten Turn.

Illia's father, Karsten Kreischmidt, had pulled off the legendary manoeuvre. Now, Kiyoaki found himself in a situation similar to the one he had practiced with Illia so many times.

A thrill coursed through him, something deep within stirring.

The primal instincts of a fighter pilot surged up inside him.

──I might be able to do it, too.

──With my wingmen covering me, I can attempt it…

Even if he failed the Karsten Turn and spun out of control, his wingmen might be able to help him recover.

──Should I go for it…?

The temptation to reach a new level as a fighter pilot tugged at him. Just as he was about to press his right foot down on the rudder bar…

──If I fail, my wingmen will be killed.

That thought flashed through his mind.

"Dammit."

Kiyoaki eased off the rudder bar and maintained a standard loop, twisting the plane only slightly.

──I can't take unnecessary risks. My wingmen's lives are in my hands…!

He realized for the first time that the thought of protecting his wingmen had grown stronger within him.

──I have to win, but I have to win the right way…

It was tough, but there was no other choice. If they kept enduring the loop, they'd eventually find themselves behind the enemy. Right now, he wasn't just carrying his own life—he was responsible for the lives of his subordinates. He etched that reminder into his mind.

Craning his neck and straining his body backward, Kiyoaki kept his eyes on the three enemy planes behind him, enduring the crushing G-forces. It was excruciating, but if he gave up now, the enemy would circle around and kill them all. Right now, the enemy pilots were enduring the same pressure in their cockpits. Kiyoaki knew all too well how skilled the St Vault fighter pilots were, but there was no way he could let them win.

──Show them the pride of a samurai.

His eyes narrowed with determination as he braced himself, refusing to lose. His hands trembled from the strain of gripping the control stick, but even the slightest mistake in manoeuvring would allow the enemy to slip behind them. One moment of carelessness could lead to the deaths of all three pilots in his squadron.

He endured and endured, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Then, the enemy squad leader, who had been in view just behind him, suddenly faltered and drifted down toward Kiyoaki's plane like a puppet with its strings cut.

The enemy pilot had succumbed to the strain.

In that instant, Kiyoaki found himself behind the enemy squadron. Their formation had collapsed, and the wingmen had been flung out of their loops.

With no hesitation, he lined up the now helpless squad leader in his gunsight and pulled the trigger.

The 20mm rounds from Kiyoaki's Murasame turned the Beo-Eagle into a ball of fire. The explosives remaining in the wings burst into the sky like sparklers, and before he could even savour the aftermath of the kill, he dove after the disoriented enemy wingmen.

The constant strain of the vertical loop had drained the pilots' physical strength, leaving the enemy wingmen wobbling, completely unaware of Kiyoaki's approach.

──How are my wingmen doing?

A quick glance to the left and right revealed that Dambazolik and Rensuke were slightly behind Kiyoaki but still maintaining their three-plane formation. Their performance was nothing short of outstanding.

──They’re reliable.

Trusting the two to cover his rear, Kiyoaki swiftly took down the remaining two enemy wingmen. Having flown solo for so long, he deeply appreciated the security of having wingmen guarding his back.

──I'm surviving thanks to my wingmen...

He was fully aware of this. Through the radio, he checked in on his wingmen.

"Still good?"

Their responses came instantly.

"Yes, sir!" "We can keep going!"

Though their voices sounded a bit fatigued, Kiyoaki could sense their satisfaction. Nodding, he turned his attention to the battlefield and aimed the tip of his spear towards the enemy bombers approaching Messus Island.

After repelling the enemy carrier-based planes and landing on the ground, Kiyoaki made his way to the aviation command post to report the battle results. Dambazolik and Rensuke rushed over, faces lit with excitement.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Sakagami! Thanks to you, I shot down one plane today!"

Kiyoaki was taken aback by Dambazolik’s first aerial victory. He hadn't noticed at all.

"Huh, when did that happen? I didn’t see it at all."

"It happened while you were flying like this, and an enemy plane came from this direction..."

Dambazolik mimicked the situation with his hands, explaining how he had spotted and shot down an enemy plane that had been creeping up from above while Kiyoaki was focused on another target.

"I also saw Dambazolik’s kill! I’m a bit frustrated that I didn’t get one myself, but it was a perfect takedown!" Rensuke added, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t achieved a kill yet, but sincerely praising his comrade’s victory. Kiyoaki couldn't help but smile.

"I see. Thanks. I didn’t notice at all."

"It's our job as wingmen!"

Dambazolik straightened his posture, proudly puffing out his chest. He was far too earnest to tell a lie, and it was clear that he had indeed saved Kiyoaki’s life.

"Wait here a second."

Kiyoaki jogged over to the officers’ barracks and returned with a large bottle of sake he had stored under his desk.

"I got this from the strategist Ogiya, but I don’t drink much. You guys can have it."

Seeing the label, Dambazolik’s eyes widened in surprise. The sake was a high-end brand that every Akitsu citizen would recognize.

"Is it really okay for us to have this!?"

"It’s a small price to pay for my life. Share it with everyone."

"Thank you so much! Everyone will be thrilled!"

Dambazolik and Rensuke repeatedly thanked him as they carefully cradled the bottle and headed back to the non-commissioned officers' barracks. Kiyoaki waved as they left and let out a deep breath.

The sun had already set below the horizon, leaving only a faint purple afterglow in the western sky.

This was the sixth aerial battle since they had started flying as a three-plane squadron. With each mission, the bond between him and his wingmen grew stronger, and their coordination improved with every fight.

To survive the brutality of this sky, they had become indispensable to one another.

──And so, I've gained more people to care about...

Kiyoaki gazed up at the sky, feeling the weight of that realization.

As time passed, people who had once been important faded into the background, while those by his side now became more vivid.

No matter how much he clung to the past and tried to reject the present, the harsh reality would not allow it.

It was simply the way things were. As countless sentimental songs say, life is a cycle of meetings and farewells. But even knowing that, the truth still hurt.

Kiyoaki slapped his cheeks with both hands, then straightened his expression as he looked up at the darkening sky.

──It’s no use worrying. I have to live in the now, give everything I’ve got.

──After all, I could die tomorrow...

Steeling himself, he reminded himself that indulging in sentimentality was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The situation was worsening day by day, and whether or not he would survive was far from certain. The Imperial forces were growing stronger by the day, and the Federation, with its inferior industrial power, was being pushed back.

"Oh, there you are, Kiyoaki. I’ve been looking for you."

A voice called out from the side, and Kiyoaki turned to see Ogiya, the aviation strategist, smiling and holding a newspaper.

"There’s something interesting in the paper. I want to hear your thoughts."

Ogiya handed him a copy of The Akitsu Daily News. The date was from three days ago, as newspapers arrived in Odessa three days late due to its distance from the mainland.

"Let’s discuss it in the command post. I’d rather not be seen reading this out here."

Urged by Ogiya, Kiyoaki followed him to the second floor of the Odessa Airfield command post and into the officers' room.

Ogiya spread the paper across a large table, used for maps, and pointed to a specific article.

"To the Next King of the Skies: A Fateful Duel Approaches."

Beneath the grandiose headline was a large photograph of Kiyoaki in the cockpit of his Murasame, extending one hand to signal to a mechanic.

It wasn’t the first time Kiyoaki had been featured in the media. During his time with the St Vault military, he had been heavily promoted as one of "The Seven of Eriadore," used to boost military propaganda and inspire younger generations. But even so, this article was particularly inflammatory. Underneath Kiyoaki’s photo was another photo, this time of Illia Kreischmidt, taken during their mock air battles at the Air Hunt Academy.

The article read:

"In recent times, a young warrior has emerged in the skies over the multi-island sea. Many of you may recognize him from last year. In February, during a mock air battle on Air Hunt Island, the young hawk, Lieutenant Kiyoaki Sakagami (19), captured the attention of both the St Vault Empire and the Akitsu Federation. Since the outbreak of the Second Multi-Island War, he deserted the Voltec Air Squadron out of loyalty to his homeland and is currently engaged in deadly combat against his former comrades on Messus Island Odessa. Living up to the name of his father, the legendary Flight Sergeant Masaharu Sakagami, once called the 'King of the Skies,' Kiyoaki has been steadily racking up achievements in the air and is expected to soon lead a large squadron."

"But on the other hand, another who carries the blood of the 'King of the Skies' also flies the skies of the multi-island sea. Cadet Officer Illia Kreischmidt (19), a member of the Voltec Air Squadron, is currently fighting the Allied Forces in the skies around Isrion and is showing exceptional performance, soon expected to rival the kill count of Captain Leo Rosenmuller. Illia’s fame is already spreading throughout the Empire, and her beauty has made her a national hero. These two young heroes, Kiyoaki Sakagami and Illia Kreischmidt, emerged around the same time, and during their time at the Air Hunt Academy, they were often seen together, reportedly even going on outings alone."

"The two, sharing similar backgrounds and talents, may have developed feelings beyond mere friendship. If the war continues, they may one day face each other in battle. When that day comes, will they be able to pull the trigger?"

After reading the article, Kiyoaki ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

It was obvious that the article was designed to appeal to the public's basest curiosity. The war-weary citizens of Akitsu were hungry for simple, sensational entertainment.

There was no author listed, but Kiyoaki knew exactly who was responsible.

"Tokiwa Utaguni..."

Ever since their days at the Air Hunt Academy, this journalist had relentlessly pestered Kiyoaki and Illia, asking invasive questions and prying into their relationship.

"After graduation, if the two of you meet on the battlefield, will you kill each other honourably?"

Kiyoaki recalled the provocative question Tokiwa Utaguni had asked during an interview. Even back then, Tokiwa had been fixated on the connection between Kiyoaki and Illia, scheming to turn it into a sensational story. Otherwise, there was no way Tokiwa could have known about the times they had gone out alone.

A surge of anger welled up inside him.

He didn’t want his relationship with Illia trampled on by some stranger, nor did he want baseless speculation about them spread across the country.

"So, is it true? Were you close with this young lady?"

Ogiya asked directly, without any pretence. Kiyoaki grimaced.

"…She's a dear friend. We practiced mock dogfights together many times during our time at the academy, honing our skills."

"But… just a friend, right?"

"She’s a friend. I respect her as a top-notch pilot."

"I see… And if you were to meet her on the battlefield…"

Ogiya paused, staring intently at Kiyoaki.

Kiyoaki knew what the next question would be.

"…Could you shoot her down?"

Kiyoaki couldn’t answer. His expression stiffened. Ogiya understood immediately.

"…Of course not. You couldn’t."

"……………………"

"But the Naval Command wants you to. They want Kiyoaki Sakagami to shoot down Illia Kreischmidt with his own hands and spark a nationwide celebration."

Ogiya’s voice was resigned as he explained the grim reality. Kiyoaki remained silent.

"I don’t want to talk about this either, but I can’t avoid it. Actually, I’m being reassigned back to Misato. I’ll be taking command of a newly formed squadron tasked with defending the capital’s airspace. We’re assembling the best fighter pilots in the Federation. I’ve put in a request for you to join, though you don’t have much experience yet. But you’ve got the skill."

Kiyoaki looked up in surprise.

"Soon, the Empire will capture Isrion. Once Hydrabard surrenders to the Empire, Odessa will be next. And after Odessa falls, it’ll be Misato’s turn. Before that happens, we need to strengthen the capital’s defences as much as possible."

"Misato’s defence is the job of the Keiken Imperial Guard Division, isn’t it?"

"The Imperial Guard alone can’t stop the Empire. That’s why we’re forming a combined force with the elite from the land and naval air forces. We’re basically copying the Empire’s Voltec Air Squadron. And when Misato is attacked, you can bet it’ll be Voltec leading the charge. We can’t let them take us down easily. Even if we can’t win, we need to make sure we take some of them with us."

Kiyoaki’s heart pounded.

The faces of his former comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron flashed before his eyes.

It had only been two months since they parted ways, but it already felt like a distant memory.

And now that he was apart from them, Kiyoaki was all too aware of how formidable they were. As Ogiya said, the Voltec Air Squadron was designed to secure air superiority, and that meant conquering the skies over Misato. They had the equipment and the skills to do just that.

He pictured Leo’s face—always respected and admired. Then there was carefree Lulu and Lala, heavy-drinking, rough-around-the-edges Mcguire, and hot-headed Leon, always starting fights. They had all welcomed Kiyoaki, an outsider, without reservation. Every night, they drank together on the beach until dawn. When Kiyoaki and Kagura were imprisoned by the military police, they had broken the law to rescue them.

These weren’t faceless enemies. Kiyoaki knew every single one of them personally, knew their personalities, even their family situations.

If he joined the new air squadron in Misato, he would be fighting against his former comrades.

──I can’t do it.

But more than anything…

──I can’t fight Illia.

The idea of a final battle over the capital filled him with dread. What had once seemed like a vague, distant possibility now took on a frighteningly real form, making his legs tremble.

"If we meet on the battlefield, let’s fight for real."

When they had parted at the Odin air fortress, Illia had asked Kiyoaki to make that promise. At the time, with the military police closing in and the clock ticking, Kiyoaki hadn’t wanted to leave things unresolved and had agreed to her request.

But now, the thought of facing Illia over Misato was terrifying.

Ogiya watched Kiyoaki’s reaction and scratched his head awkwardly.

"Well, I suppose I’m partly to blame for all this… Back then, I was young and stupid and didn’t know when to quit."

"Well, you know," Ogiya said with a touch of regret, "that girl's connection with you... if you trace it back, I'm partly responsible too. I was young and reckless back then, and yeah... I definitely messed up by not reading the room."

Ogiya was referring to an incident that occurred about twenty years ago during the First Multi-Island War. At that time, Masaharu Sakagami and Karsten Kreischmidt, both known as the "Kings of the Sky," were engaged in a legendary one-on-one duel. Both sides’ pilots, recognizing the significance of the moment, had mutually agreed to a ceasefire and watched the clash in awe as the two masters demonstrated their incredible skill. Just as Karsten maneuverer behind Masaharu, closing in for the kill, Masaharu abruptly pitched his plane vertically. In that moment—driven by his admiration for Masaharu—the young Ogiya intervened in the duel.

From there, the accounts diverged.

According to records from the Akitsu Federation, Ogiya had interrupted just before the decisive moment. Masaharu, by suddenly pitching his nose up, caused Karsten to overshoot, then levelled off and shot him down. This manoeuvre, known as the "Snake Shot," was a legendary air combat technique that no one but Masaharu had ever successfully performed.

However, in the records of the St Vault Empire, it was stated that Karsten had been shot down due to Ogiya's interference. As a result, Karsten lost his right arm, could no longer fly, and Masaharu's name became synonymous with "coward" in the Empire, tarnishing what should have been an honourable duel.

"I know I don't have much credibility, but the "Snake Shot" was real. I saw it up close. But of course, saying that to them won’t convince anyone. The records of air battles are notoriously unreliable, always twisted to fit the narrative that’s most convenient. Thanks to that dumb move I made, I gave the Empire the perfect excuse."

Stripped of his wings, Karsten sank into despair, developing a dependency on alcohol. In his bitterness, he rigorously trained his only daughter, Illia, with the intent of moulding her into the next "King of the Sky." When Illia asked Kiyoaki to fight her with all his strength, she was surely honouring her father’s wishes.

The depth of the connection between him and Illia hit Kiyoaki once more, leaving him at a loss for words.

When they first met, Illia had hidden behind a cold, stoic mask. But as they got to know each other, she began to show him her true self, the face of a normal girl.

He recalled the countless times they had faced off in mock battles, her graceful flying mesmerizing him; the time they trained in swordsmanship alone in the gymnasium; the long nights spent in the officers' room, dissecting their daytime practice dogfights; the motorcycle rides they took together, just the two of them. Memories of their time at the academy rushed back, followed by memories of their time in the Voltec Air Squadron.

On a beach with the non-commissioned officers, after drinking heavily, Illia had asked Kiyoaki for a piggyback ride. Carrying her on his back, he remembered how delicate and soft she felt, and how she smelled so sweet. As she tugged at his cheeks, they had laughed together, walking under the stars. In that moment, he had wished they could escape to a deserted island, forgetting about the war and living together in peace.

He didn’t know what to call those feelings. But when he looked within himself, it was clear that Illia had already spread roots deep into his soul, entwining herself with his very being.

There was no way he could kill someone like that with his own hands.

"I understand your hesitation," Ogiya said. "But unfortunately, we’re soldiers. Our job is to protect our countrymen, even if that means killing our friends, or even our lovers. If we don’t do it, the enemy will kill our friends, our comrades, and our families."

Ogiya’s words rang distantly in Kiyoaki’s ears.

What was right and what was wrong... it was no longer clear. In fact, it wasn’t even a matter of right or wrong anymore.

The world had gone mad.

The entire nation—no, the entire world—was caught up in the frenzy of war, abandoning any semblance of ethical integrity.

"The Naval Command and the people of Akitsu are expecting you to rise to the occasion. Fight for them, so they don’t have to suffer the same pain you’ve experienced."

Images of his father, mother, and sister, who had been killed in a senseless act of violence on Messus Island, flashed through his mind. In this twisted era, the only sliver of morality left seemed to be within the context of Ogiya’s words.

"The day after tomorrow, the order to transfer will come. We’ll be escorting a convoy back to the mainland. Your wingmen are coming too, so make sure you’re ready."

"...Understood. I’ll do my best."

With a weak response, Kiyoaki watched as Ogiya patted him on the shoulder, offering silent comfort, before leaving the barracks.

Alone, Kiyoaki lay down on his bed, his chest aching. A flood of dark premonitions overwhelmed him, leaving him gasping for air.

──Where am I headed?

He felt powerless, swept along by the tide of fate.

Since that day he had sworn vengeance against Urano, standing before the ashes of his hometown, he had pushed himself relentlessly, only to find that the destination of his journey was a sky where he’d be forced to fight someone he cherished.

──Is the nation really that important?

──Do I really have to fight for the sake of my country, even if it means killing Illia?

──If I kill Illia, rise in rank, and become an officer, will I be satisfied?

The anguish wouldn’t stop.

As he stared at the ceiling, the image of Illia’s innocent smile from that starry beach lingered in his mind, and the warmth of her embrace during their farewell at Odin Fortress resurfaced, clear as day.

"Illia..."

He whispered her name.

"I just want to see you again... in normal circumstances."

He wanted to meet Illia again, not in the sky as enemies, but somewhere like that peaceful beach where they’d once laughed together with their Voltec Squadron comrades. He imagined flying through a tranquil sky alongside her, without the threat of war. But that simple, fleeting wish seemed like nothing more than a child’s dream in the face of their grim reality.

Two days later, Messus Island's military port was overflowing with refugees. Despite having endured countless battles, the people who had been born on the island now had no choice but to abandon it, after receiving reports that the Imperial air and naval forces, having captured Isrion, were heading towards Messus Island. With tears in their eyes, they reluctantly boarded ships bound for the mainland.

Four transport ships, packed with approximately 14,000 civilians, were escorted by two destroyers. Their foghorns blared as they set sail. Kiyoaki, seated in his single-seat fighter "Murasame," led Dambazolik and Rensuke as his wingmen, providing aerial cover for the convoy all the way to Tsurugi Island.

The escort group, led by Captain Maolong, consisted of twelve aircraft. Once the escort mission was completed, they would refuel and head to Misato, where they would be assigned to the new air squadron Ogiya had organized.

Kiyoaki glanced down below. Even the decks of the transport ships were crowded with refugees, basking in the November sunlight. The ships were clearly overloaded, but the situation below deck was likely even more dire. People, packed tightly in the dark, cramped cargo holds, were enduring the rising temperatures without the ability to move freely, or even go to the bathroom.

He looked down at the white wake trailing far below, circling around repeatedly to stay in formation with the slow-moving ships. Kiyoaki scanned the sky for signs of enemy aircraft. It was a clear day, with few clouds, so any incoming enemy planes would be easily spotted. The greater threat was submarines, but he reassured himself that submarines couldn't cross the great waterfall without external assistance. Since the Empire had only taken Santos Island two months prior, it was unlikely submarines had already entered these waters.

──Maybe we’ll have a relatively peaceful day.

After days of intense dogfights with enemy carrier-based planes, today’s mission felt dull by comparison. It was tedious keeping pace with the slow convoy, adjusting to the sluggish speed of the ships. Bored chatter from his comrades filled the speaker, and Kiyoaki found himself relaxing into a sense of calm.

Four hours after setting sail, Kiyoaki had grown tired of the monotonous scenery of islands and sky, frustrated by the endless circling over the convoy. He prayed they would soon reach Tsurugi Island, their stop for the night. Being far from the front lines, enemy carrier-based planes were unlikely to appear, and the seas were full of Akitsu Federation fishing boats. The area was safe. Even Captain Maolong had joined in the banter over the speakers, and the squad was now laughing and singing songs that mocked the Empire.

But disaster struck in an instant.

The singing over the radio abruptly cut off.

Below, despite Kiyoaki’s squad maintaining complete air control, a towering column of water suddenly erupted from the side of the lead transport ship, followed by flames shooting skyward.

Within moments, a thick plume of black smoke began to rise into the clear blue sky, turning the peaceful scene into a warzone.

The lightly armoured transport ship quickly began to list to one side. Civilians, panicking as the flames spread, scrambled to escape, many tumbling helplessly into the sea.

"Torpedo?!"

Kiyoaki frantically scanned the ocean, trying to locate the source of the attack. It had to be a submarine, but there was no sign of it. The waves were too high to spot the sub’s silhouette. Given the distance to shore, the submarine had likely fired the torpedoes and then dove deep to escape detection.

"Damn it…!"

He cursed his own foolishness. He had been complacent, assuming submarines couldn’t cross the great waterfall without assistance. It was possible the Empire had developed some sort of lifting device to help submarines navigate the falls. Otherwise, this attack wouldn’t have been possible.

On the surface, one destroyer frantically searched for the fleeing submarine, while the other focused on rescuing survivors. The stricken transport ship was now ablaze, its fuel tanks likely ruptured, spilling thick black oil into the sea. Civilians who had been thrown into the water struggled desperately, but the heavy oil clung to them, making swimming impossible. One by one, they began to slip beneath the surface.

Kiyoaki’s eyes narrowed as he descended, straining every muscle to search for the submarine. But it was already too late.

──I’m a fool.

The transport ship, still carrying nearly 2,000 civilians, was sinking fast. On the surface, more than 2,000 people were struggling, reaching out to the sky for help, but without life jackets, and without the training to swim in the open sea, most were quickly succumbing to the cold November waters, their malnourished bodies unable to endure the struggle.

The sea turned black with oil, preventing the desperate victims from even opening their eyes. The winter sea had chilled the oil into a gelatinous state, clinging to their limbs and sapping their strength. Those who attempted to dive underwater to escape found themselves choking as they resurfaced, their mouths and noses clogged with the thick oil, until they, too, succumbed.

──If only I had been more vigilant.

There had been no time for singing. If he had paid closer attention to the water, he might have spotted the submarine’s periscope. This was a time of war—no peaceful scene could be trusted. Now, as he watched 4,000 people die before his eyes, he knew their families would be consumed by the same grief he had felt when he lost his parents and sister.

──I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…

No matter how many times he apologized, it wouldn’t bring them back. But the pain was unbearable. Just as Ogiya had said, his duty as a soldier was to protect his people, and he had failed. The result was this tragedy at sea. If he had taken his responsibilities more seriously, he could have prevented this disaster.

"…Stay alert. There may be another submarine. We can’t let them take a second ship."

Captain Maolong’s voice came through, bitter and tense. Kiyoaki snapped back to his duty and climbed to a higher altitude. He entrusted the rescue operation to the destroyers and resumed his search for any sign of a periscope at 100 meters above the surface. If another submarine surfaced, he would attack immediately.

──Never again. Never…

As he looked down at the sea, watching the thousands of lives being swallowed by the ocean, Kiyoaki silently vowed, over and over, to never let such a tragedy happen again. Though he thought he had experienced enough battlefields, this was the first time he had witnessed such a horrific event.

These weren’t combatants. They had nothing to do with the war. And yet, despite being paid to protect them, and flying an aircraft funded by their taxes, he had failed to notice the submarine, allowing the attack to happen under his watch, resulting in the deaths of these innocent people.

The frustration made him want to cry.

But there was no time for tears. He had to keep scanning the waves for any sign of another periscope. He was a soldier of the Akitsu Federation now. It was his duty to fight and save the lives of his fellow countrymen.

The convoy of transport ships arrived at Tsurugi Island in the evening. Kiyoaki and his cover team landed at the island's airfield ahead of time and made their way to the harbor. Shortly afterward, the destroyers carrying the rescued refugees and the remaining three intact transport ships entered the harbor.

The scene of the survivors was heartbreaking. Some who had been rescued from the ship died from burns, and their charred bodies were lined up on the pier. Many were still wearing clothes soaked in heavy oil, as removing them would peel away their burnt skin. The despair in their eyes seemed to pierce through Kiyoaki, making his legs tremble.

But he couldn’t look away.

By imagining his father, mother, sister, and friends among the disaster victims, he could easily understand how much their loved ones would mourn. Determined to never repeat this mistake, Kiyoaki forced the image of the victims into his memory.

After the survivors were taken care of, Kiyoaki greeted the commander of the local airbase before heading to the barracks. Everyone's faces were grim and exhausted.

Even Dambazolik and Rensuke, usually full of energy, looked downcast, their faces showing traces of tears.

"It's in the past now. Spotting a periscope from the air is difficult. Anti-submarine patrols are the job of the destroyers. Our job as fighter pilots is to spot enemy planes," Captain Maolong said, trying to offer some comfort, but Kiyoaki's mood remained heavy.

"... Let's drink. Reflect on it, then forget. It wasn't our fault; it's the destroyers’ fault," Maolong suggested.

Blaming others was easier than shouldering guilt, and Kiyoaki followed Maolong's lead, joining the gathering outside the barracks. He downed the sake that was poured for him, trying to numb the pain inside.

"Lieutenant, please," Dambazolik said, looking dejected as he poured Kiyoaki another cup. Kiyoaki said nothing, simply downing the drink again. He wasn't fond of alcohol, but tonight, he wanted to drown in it.

"Yeah, you too. Drink," Kiyoaki said, offering sake to his wingmen.

"Yes, sir."

It occurred to Kiyoaki that this was the first time he'd shared a drink with them. They'd talked about combat before but never tried to get closer.

"... The Imperial Army is strong. Very strong... Each time we fight them, I understand more about their strength," Rensuke began to speak quietly, as the sake took effect. A fire crackled at the centre of the gathering, sending sparks into the starry sky.

"And today as well... They completely outsmarted us. I’m sure even the military leadership didn’t anticipate they already had submarines stationed in the southern seas. The Imperial Army is just as capable as we are, if not more."

Kiyoaki was a little surprised. It wasn’t common to hear a soldier of the Federation openly praise the enemy. Most mocked the opposing forces. But Rensuke was different. Though he appeared delicate and gentle on the surface, Kiyoaki could see that beneath his exterior, there was a sharp intelligence, sadness, and a fierce intensity that emerged during combat.

In a way, Kiyoaki saw a reflection of himself in Rensuke and grew curious about the path that had brought him here.

"We're strong too. Our pilots’ abilities are not inferior," Kiyoaki tried to encourage him, but Rensuke's expression remained sombre. Dambazolik interjected.

"Rensuke’s worried about his family back in Misato. He thinks they should be evacuated before it becomes a battlefield..."

"That’s a valid concern. If possible, it would be safer to escape..."

"They can't afford to. My father was drafted and died. My mother works in a school factory, but I have three younger brothers and four younger sisters. There’s no extended family to help... They’re starving," Rensuke explained, his voice soft.

As they drank, the two wingmen painted a bleak picture of life in the Federation. Kiyoaki had heard whispers about the dire situation but hadn’t realized the full extent.

Since the Messus Island invasion, which led to war between the Akitsu Federation and the Hydrabard United Coalition five years ago, the Federation’s economy had deteriorated steadily. Rationing wasn’t enough, and most children suffered from malnutrition. The men had all been drafted, leaving mothers to work in factories or on farms for a pittance. Money had lost its value, and goods were obtained only through bartering. The food distributed was an unidentifiable gruel or strange dumplings made from who-knows-what. Desperation forced families to eat these scraps, but no matter how hungry they were, some things were too vile to swallow. Children subsisted on small amounts of thin soup, half a potato, or a few spoonful’s of wheat diluted with water. Death by starvation was a looming reality.

And so, women made the dangerous journey to the countryside to barter for food, a journey known as "kaidashi," an illegal practice fraught with peril. The trains, already packed with evacuees, were so crowded that there was no room to move, and the stench from lack of toilets was overwhelming. In tunnels, smoke from the coal engines would fill the carriages, and people pressed their faces into each other’s clothes, praying the train would soon emerge into fresh air.

Even if they reached the countryside, the farmers demanded valuables in exchange for food, and the police often confiscated these rations on the way home. For families like Rensuke's, it was a constant struggle for survival.

"My mother went to get food and came back empty-handed. By the time she returned, my youngest sister had died. She was only three. If the rations had been enough, she might have survived..."

Rensuke's voice was filled with quiet pain as he sipped his drink.

Kiyoaki was speechless.

The Empire wasn't free from hardship either, but the plight of the Federation civilians seemed far worse. Laws designed to protect lives instead threatened them, leading to this horrific reality.

"I can fight to earn money to send to them, but military currency is worthless. No farmer will accept it... What am I even fighting for?"

The military scrip, a promissory note issued in place of real wages, was essentially useless. It could only be exchanged for cash after the war ended, if at all. The frustration in Rensuke’s words was palpable.

"This is insane. The state is supposed to protect the people’s lives and property, but here it’s threatening them. Whose war is this anyway?" Kiyoaki muttered, the bitterness spilling out.

Dambazolik and Rensuke exchanged glances but said nothing as they sipped their drinks. What Kiyoaki had just said could easily be considered treason.

Once again, Kiyoaki felt that gnawing question rise from within: What are we fighting for?

Who was he flying for? It was becoming harder to remember why he was risking his life, taking others’ lives, and what purpose it served.

The world was mad.

"Forget I said that. I’ll keep flying. Beating the Empire is the only thing I can do," Rensuke declared, ending the conversation with a swig of his drink.

Kiyoaki downed his cup and gazed up at the stars.

Were his friends suffering under the same hardships? He wished he could share his feelings with them, but most of them, including Kagura, were on the other side of the war.

"Once we win, we’ll get reparations and life will be better. That’s why I fight. My parents will be proud if we win," Dambazolik said, trying to brighten the mood.

"Yeah... We fight to win. We have to," Kiyoaki agreed, though deep inside, he wasn’t sure if winning would bring happiness.

Fatigue, both mental and physical, weighed him down. Tomorrow they would fly to Misato. Exhausted, Kiyoaki excused himself and returned to the barracks alone.

As the clouds cleared, the full expanse of the Akitsu Federation capital, Misato, came into view beneath Kiyoaki’s aircraft.

The vast greenery of the imperial palace spread like a centre point, with the city expanding outward in a radial pattern, resembling a coin with a hole in the middle. The densely packed greyish-white concrete buildings were dissected by main roads like leaf veins, and the breath of 1.4 million citizens living in this metropolis hazed the winter sky.

Kiyoaki’s new mission was to protect the skies of this largest city in the Southern Archipelago.

Ahead, Commander Maolong’s aircraft began to descend. Slightly outside the city, a massive floating island stretched 28 kilometres in length and 15 kilometres in width. This was the former Urano stronghold "Balsinos," now rechristened "Suzaku" by the Akitsu Federation. It was an aerial fortress, part of the "Thundersteel" operation, and would serve as the base for the newly formed air squadron to which Kiyoaki and his team were assigned.

They began their descent from 3,000 meters, spiralling down toward the island, which hovered at 2,000 meters. Kiyoaki focused on the silver gleam of the landing strips, spotting the first airfield, where the fighter squadron would be based.

Maintaining perfect formation, the twelve planes gradually lowered their altitude. Kiyoaki knew that the existing pilots stationed at the first airfield would be watching their arrival, judging their skill. Were they worthy of being part of Akitsu’s strongest fighter squadron?

With the sound of wind rushing against the cockpit, they broke through the misty vapor and executed the fourth turn.

"We’ll land in a three-plane formation. Don’t mess it up," Maolong’s voice came over the speaker. Kiyoaki glanced to both sides. Dambazolik and Rensuke were flying in perfect unison with him, as if they had been a veteran unit together for years.

The planes touched down, kicking up red dust from the runway, their movements as synchronized as if pre-programmed. Glancing toward the line of assembled personnel, Kiyoaki saw about twenty or so pilots dressed in black flight suits with red stripes on their shoulders and chest, watching their landing with evident interest.

Kiyoaki and his wingmen lined up in front of the air command post, bracing against the cold wind. Once all twelve pilots had assembled, Commander Maolong reported their safe arrival to the new commanding officer.

The commander saluted and introduced himself.

"I am Ogiya, Haruhiko. I will be taking command of your unit from now on. Some of you know me from Messus Island, but the scale of the battle we’re preparing for will be nothing like what we faced there. Keep your focus sharp."

A sharp, unified response echoed through the air. Ogiya nodded and continued.

"The Empire has already invaded Isrion and is using the Voltec Air Squadron to capture the Karanakuta Fortress. If Karanakuta falls, their next target will be Misato. Our mission is to fend off the Voltec Air Squadron and defend the skies over Misato."

Kiyoaki’s chest tightened at the mention of the Voltec Air Squadron. Just hearing the name made his soul want to scream.

"As you may know, this squadron has been formed by combining the best pilots from three different military branches: the Akitsu Federation’s Keiken Imperial Guard Division, the Navy Air Corps, and the Army Air Corps. This is the first time such a joint squadron has been assembled. Put aside your differences and unite to face the Empire."

Ogiya looked around at each of them before raising his voice again.

"The nation is counting on us. After a public contest, this squadron has been named ‘Kusanagi Air Squadron,’ after the legendary sword from Akitsu mythology that cut down hordes of enemies in a field. I expect you to live up to that name. That is all."

Another loud response rang out, and the pilots dispersed. Carrying their single-strap knapsacks, they walked toward their new comrades, ready to introduce themselves.

The pilots’ cleanly coordinated flight suits exuded an unspoken sense of strength.

"Odessa Squadron here. Looking forward to working with you," said Maolong, introducing himself to a fellow lieutenant.

"The pleasure is ours. Welcome," the other lieutenant replied. To Kiyoaki’s surprise, the lieutenant was a woman, which was still uncommon in the Federation Air Corps.

And then—Kiyoaki’s eyes widened.

"Kagura!?"

Kagura Murasaki, now clad in the Kusanagi Squadron uniform, smiled at Kiyoaki, her usual serene expression lighting up.

"I told you we’d meet again soon."

For the first time in a long while, Kiyoaki’s face beamed with joy. He nearly rushed forward to take her hand but stopped himself just in time. The surrounding pilots watched their exchange with curiosity.

"Are you part of this squadron too, Kagura?"

"Yes, they accepted me. The training here is tough, but it’s making us all stronger," Kagura said, her soft smile radiating even more brightly. Despite only two months of separation, Kiyoaki found her presence overwhelmingly nostalgic.

"I’m honoured to fight alongside you again, Kagura!"

When Kiyoaki expressed his heartfelt sentiment, Kagura gave a bashful smile.

"Thanks. You’ve become much more confident, Kiyoaki."

"Combat has shaped me."

"I can tell. Let me introduce you to the team. You’ll be facing them in practice battles soon, so be friendly while you’re still on the ground."

At Kagura’s prompt, Kiyoaki began introducing himself to the twenty or so elite pilots. They came from all regions—West, Central, and East—united for a single cause.

The last person Kiyoaki met struck him as the quintessential "man of the skies."

"This is Special Lieutenant Ryu Won. He’s the only one undefeated in the practice battles so far. We can all learn a lot from him. I’ve been bested by him plenty," Kagura said, introducing the Central region pilot.

Ryu was a quiet young man in his mid-twenties, with a gaunt face and muscular arms—hallmarks of someone who had spent long hours flying in combat zones.

"Ryu Won. It’s an honour to meet you," Ryu said without much emotion, almost as if he were reciting the words.

Kiyoaki returned the salute.

"I’m Kiyoaki Sakagami. I look forward to learning from you."

For a brief moment, a dangerous glint flashed in Ryu’s eyes—one that only another pilot could understand. It was the look of someone whose pride had been challenged. Kiyoaki had merely spoken honestly, but it might have been interpreted as provocation.

He knows about me.

Thanks to the sensational articles written by the gossip-hungry press, Kiyoaki’s reputation as a rising ace had spread widely, and perhaps Ryu didn’t find it amusing.

Sensing the subtle tension, Kagura spoke gently.

"Every practice battle here is a great learning experience, and we have some time before Voltec arrives—maybe a month. You should sharpen your skills by then. You wouldn’t want Leo or Illia laughing at you when you meet them on the battlefield."

Kagura had already accepted the reality of fighting her former comrades. She was staying true to the promise made with Leo. Kiyoaki, however, wasn’t quite ready for that.

"... I’ll ask for a sparring match someday," Ryu said quietly, ending the conversation.

The looming battle with the Voltec Air Squadron was evident from the tense atmosphere among the pilots.

I need to be ready...

Kiyoaki steeled himself as he entered the officers’ quarters assigned to him.

Two days after Kiyoaki and his team joined the Kusanagi Air Squadron, the Imperial Navy’s fleet launched a massive air raid on Odessa on Messus Island. Over 250 Imperial carrier-based aircraft overwhelmed the Federation defences and neutralized their strongholds in a matter of hours. The ground forces continued their invasion, forcing the Federation Army to retreat into the island's interior, though their complete defeat seemed inevitable.

Both the port and airfield of Messus Island fell into Imperial hands. The Empire’s strategy was clear: attack Misato from both the north and east, via Isrion and Messus Island.

For the Federation, the critical defensive positions were the Karanakuta Fortress in the north and Tsurugi Island in the east. If those fell, Misato would be left vulnerable, unable to defend itself from large-scale bomber attacks. The Federation scrambled to reinforce Tsurugi and buy time, but Karanakuta’s defence was a concern. While Hydrabard’s military guarded it, having another nation protect such a key stronghold in this volatile, multi-nation conflict was far from ideal.

Time was running out.

Kusanagi Squadron’s top priority was to build up combat strength before Karanakuta fell. As a result, their training became so intense that fatalities became a matter of course.

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.

Part 21 (Part 7 of Volume 6)

When asked about the name of the star, Mio answered.

“Etica.”

Hachidori snorted and tightened his grip on Mio’s arm.

“Do you know it means "ethics"?”

With her cheek pressed against the ground, tasting the grit of the sand, Mio groaned.

“…So what…?”

Feeling the strain in Mio’s joints, Hachidori continued the conversation, unrelated to their training, while gazing at the unmoving fixed star low in the night sky.

“Don’t you ever feel like killing the idiot who gave such a ridiculous name like "ethics" to something that every person in this world looks up at equally?”

Mio wanted to snap back, but the pain in her twisted right arm, pinned behind her back, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand Hachidori, who seemed completely indifferent to her suffering and casually brought up nonsensical topics.

“For me to bother training a useless woman like you to become something useful—it’s all just a game for the higher-ups. There’s no ethics, no logic, no necessity behind it.”

Hachidori continued to vent his frustration, applying and easing pressure just at the point where he could have broken Mio’s joints. Finally, Mio dropped the small knife she had been holding in her right hand.

“You’ve died eighteen times tonight.”

Picking up the knife and pressing its blade to Mio’s throat, Hachidori spoke before finally releasing her right arm.

Mio collapsed face-down onto the ground, unable to move. The sound of her heavy breathing echoed quietly in the empty training ground.

December 1st, Imperial Year 1349, Pleiades, Capital of the Urano Kingdom—

Since Reiner Beck, also known as Hachidori, was assigned to the Lamia Palace, the open space in front of the anti-aircraft observation post in the hills behind it had become the training ground for Mio and Hachidori. Every night, Hachidori would train Mio in the hand-to-hand combat skills essential for a special operative, though at times, the “training” devolved into nothing more than an outlet for Hachidori’s frustration. Although Mio was constantly toyed with and humiliated, she never shed tears, determined to master the brutal assassination techniques despite how far removed her life had become from that of an ordinary girl her age.

Bathed in pale moonlight and under a sky full of stars, Hachidori looked down at the fallen Mio.

“How long do you plan to stay down there? Get up.”

He nudged her with the sole of his boot, rolling her over effortlessly. Mio, dressed in the combat uniform of the Urano ground forces, lay there helplessly, turning onto her back without resistance.

“Don’t kick my butt!”

Mio finally managed to shout back, her face contorted in pain. Hachidori responded with a cold smile.

“A special operative has no butt or chest. Your body is just a tool to stop another’s life.”

“What are you even talking about… you pervert!”

“Watch your mouth. The worse your attitude, the harsher the training will be.”

Mio barely swallowed her next insult as she stood up. If Hachidori wasn’t satisfied, the training would never end. She didn’t want to go to work the next day with a body bruised and exhausted.

“I’m doing my best! Now get on with the next part!”

Mio kept up a brave front, yelling as she tried to maintain her composure. Hachidori sneered and set a new challenge.

“Then do what I just did.”

Mio looked at Hachidori for a moment and smirked.

“Me? To you?”

“Yes. Take my weapon. Don’t mess up the steps.”

Hachidori picked up the knife from the ground and held it up toward Mio.

Mio nodded. She had always been on the receiving end, but tonight, for the first time, she was allowed to fight back.

Determined to torment him just as he had tormented her, Mio observed Hachidori’s movements carefully. When the tip of the knife, raised in the air, came down toward her, she crossed her thumbs just as she had been taught. She caught Hachidori’s wrist, forcing her thumbs into the joints of his fingers.

Mio twisted Hachidori’s right hand counterclockwise. With his fingers locked around the knife, Hachidori’s posture collapsed. When his upper body tilted forward, Mio put all her strength into her right leg.

“Take that!”

She swept his legs out from under him, and Hachidori’s body hit the ground hard, his right hand still trapped.

──I did it!

Revelling in her silent victory, Mio wrapped her right arm around his back, twisting it even further. Surely, an unbearable pain was coursing through Hachidori, leaving him with no escape.

──Serves you right, you bastard!

Pouring all her pent-up anger into the action, Mio ruthlessly twisted Hachidori’s joint, intent on breaking it.

However, Hachidori didn’t release the knife. Even though his arm was bent nearly to the point of dislocation, he didn’t utter a single groan. Like a wooden puppet, he simply lay face down on the ground, allowing Mio to do as she pleased with his joints.

“Let go of the knife! I’m going to break your arm!”

Mio shouted, frustrated. It seemed she would have to break his arm to make him release the knife.

“Can you really break it?”

Hachidori’s usual condescending reply came from below.

“If you tell me to, I’ll gladly break it.”

“Go ahead. Try it.”

“...You really shouldn’t underestimate me.”

“Stop wasting time. Do you think you’ll have time for idle chatter on the battlefield?”

“…Fine, I’ll break it. I really will.”

“Just do it, you incompetent.”

With all her determination, Mio twisted Hachidori’s right arm beyond its natural range.

There was a dull crack. The sound of a joint breaking—or so she thought.

“Huh?”

The creaking of Hachidori’s joint had suddenly stopped. It was as if the resistance had disappeared, like a door whose hinges had just been removed.

In her moment of confusion, Hachidori rotated his body, planting both feet firmly on the ground. With his left hand, he grabbed the knife and pressed it against Mio’s throat.

“Nineteenth time. You have absolutely no aptitude for this.”

Mio stood in shock. Hachidori placed his left hand on his right shoulder.

Another dull crack echoed. Mio realized that Hachidori had dislocated his own joint and put it back in place.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“After doing it enough times, the pain dulls. At this point, it’s almost painless. You’ll learn it too.”

Mio blinked, processing his words, and then vigorously shook her head.

“No, no, no. No way. I can’t do that!”

“It’s not that hard to learn. You just have to endure the pain. Being able to dislocate your joints at will is useful in many situations.”

“No, thanks! I don’t want to learn something that weird. It definitely hurts.”

“Your opinion doesn’t matter. You will learn it. Let’s go.”

“No, wait… no, no, no…!”

As Mio tried to back away and flee, Hachidori mercilessly grabbed her arm.

Clutching her right shoulder, he coldly whispered:

“The first time hurts the most. Endure it.”

“Noooooooo!”

Right after her scream, the same dull crack that had come from Hachidori’s shoulder earlier now came from Mio’s.

Mio collapsed to her knees, sobbing quietly. Hachidori looked down at her with emotionless eyes.

“It’s a secret technique. Your right hand should be functional by the end of today. It shouldn’t affect your work, but if it’s too much, ask for a break.”

“Ugh...hic...sob...”

Tears and snot covered Mio’s face, and Hachidori stared at her with disgust before letting out a sigh.

“If you cry this much over something like this, you won’t last long.”

“Hic... sob...”

Mio’s beauty had completely crumbled, leaving her a mess. Hachidori exhaled through his nose and spoke inwardly to Reiner.

──This is such a hassle. Take over.

──Got it.

With a casual grin, Reiner took over, crouching down in front of Mio.

"Reiner here. The boss has left. Well, not much consolation, but hey, at least you picked up a weird skill. It's actually pretty handy. If you get caught and restrained, you can dislocate your shoulder and escape."

Reiner spoke casually, but Mio continued to sit on the ground, left hand on her right shoulder, sobbing softly.

"It hurts, I know. The boss had to do it when he was nine. If a nine-year-old kid could endure that pain, you can too."

Mio’s sobbing finally subsided, and she glared at Reiner with tear-streaked eyes.

"It’s not just the pain…!"

"Oh? What else then?"

"I hate that it was forced on me! Treating my shoulder like a toy…"

As her voice broke, Mio was once again overwhelmed by tears. Reiner scratched the back of his head, letting out a sigh.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, the boss was forced to go through training since he was a kid too... In the end, we just have to endure all the awful things thrown at us, given our status. Crying won’t change anything. Can you stand? Let’s go back."

Mio grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at Reiner in a fit of frustration. Reiner didn’t dodge but took it in stride, then supported Mio’s left hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Come on, get up. Crying and whining won’t change a damn thing. Forget about it and keep moving."

Reiner's rough words were followed by forcibly lifting Mio to her feet.

Mio glared at Reiner again and swatted his hand away.

“...Don’t touch me! I can walk on my own…”

“Oh, my bad. Glad to see you’ve got some energy left.”

“...I’m not feeling better at all! If only I could gather energy from the sky!”

“Better than nothing. Anyway, let’s get going.”

Reiner grabbed a lantern and walked alongside Mio down the mountain path in the dark. The dense forest around them was quiet, and through the intertwined branches overhead, the pale moonlight shone down.

Looking up at the moon, Reiner decided to change the topic, hoping to distract Mio.

"Isn’t December 4th the Holy Spirit Festival hosted by the Emperor?"

“…Yeah.”

"And then on the 11th, they’ll decide the new King of Urano at the coronation ceremony. I wonder how Nina is doing. If things go wrong, she might actually end up as the queen, huh?"

“…I don’t know. But Nina herself intends to become the ruler… She’s in a position where that wouldn’t be surprising."

"Nina's more ambitious than she seems, huh? You wouldn’t think it at first glance."

"Don’t call her that. Say "Lady Nina."… I don’t know much about the details, but it sounds complicated."

Mio remembered the interaction she had witnessed between Nina and “Kal-el.” That event seemed to solidify Nina's determination. Ever since hearing that Kal-el’s fleet was on the verge of total annihilation, Nina’s demeanour had visibly shifted, and she had devoted herself with a sense of urgency to maintain her powers as a Windcaller. It was clear to Mio that Nina’s aim was the Urano throne.

Mio hadn’t shared any of this with Reiner. After all, Reiner was a spy for Zenon. If Mio revealed Nina’s personal matters, it could lead to harmful information reaching Zenon, putting Nina at a disadvantage.

──I don’t want Lady Nina to suffer… It’s too cruel.

──I have to make sure Zenon never finds out about Kal-el...

With that thought, Mio realized something.

──I’m prioritizing Lady Nina over Zenon…

Even though she was supposed to be a spy for Zenon, Mio found herself now fully on Nina’s side.

Zenon held the fate of Mio’s family in his hands. To save her entire family, Mio had no choice but to rely on Zenon’s goodwill. That was why she had decided to serve him, sacrificing herself in the process.

──But now, I want to work for Lady Nina’s sake…

When she reflected on her feelings, Mio found herself genuinely caring about Nina. Despite her high status as a contender for the Urano throne, Nina was humble, kind, and never complained even in the face of adversity.

──I want her to be happy…

The Holy Spirit Festival on December 4th would serve as a sort of prelude to the Coronation Festival on the 11th. The festival is based on the legend of three spirits visiting the mother of Saint Aldista to bring good news about the birth of the divine child. During the Holy Spirit Festival, both the Pope Illustriali and Nina Viento were scheduled to give speeches in front of the general public in the plaza of the Grand Cathedral in Evangelis. Whether or not Nina’s speech would gain the support of the populace would play a major role in her bid for the throne.

The approval of the Urano throne rested in the hands of the Senate and the citizens.

In the Senate, the conservative faction supporting the First Prince, Demistri, and the progressive faction backing Nina were locked in a tug of war. Nina’s supporters were the outcasts of the royal court, while Demistri’s aggressive nature resonated well with the military. The Pope’s goal was to secure overwhelming support from the citizens during the Holy Spirit Festival speech to sway undecided senators in Nina’s favour and place her on the throne. The moment of truth was fast approaching.

As they descended the mountain, the distant beacon of the First Circle Tower, where Nina resided, came into view. Lights still glowed in Nina’s chambers. Mio couldn’t stop worrying about what Nina might be thinking under that light.

Carrying such a heavy burden despite her small body and gentle nature, Mio wished she could ease Nina’s load, even just a little.

On December 4th, more than seventy thousand people had gathered in the plaza in front of Evangelis Grand Cathedral, braving the freezing air at 2,000 meters above sea level to catch a glimpse of “the Windcaller Girl,” Nina Viento. They cheered and whistled, sending their calls up into the frozen sky.

As Nina’s attendant, Mio was in the waiting room inside the cathedral, helping Nina get dressed in the formal attire prepared by Pope Illustriali.

The outfit included a purple chemise dress with a plunging neckline, paired with a white bodysuit and draped with a pure white robe. A crown adorned with gemstones rested on her head, along with a silver wig and purple eyeliner. With each new accessory, Nina transformed into someone entirely different from the modest girl Mio knew from Lamia Palace.

According to the explanation, this grand ensemble was modelled after the “Windcaller Girl” foretold in the ancient mythology of Urano. It was all part of creating a divine image for Nina Viento, a “transformation” meant to elevate her saintly status. However, to Mio, who knew the real Nina, the excessive decoration felt unnecessary.

“All finished.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Nina, now resembling a figure from myth, responded in a slightly lower voice than usual. Though her makeup hid it, Mio could tell Nina had been unwell since that morning, likely worn down by the constant strain of calling the wind.

Would Nina really be able to step out and deliver a speech in front of seventy thousand people in her current state?

Sitting in a tall black chair, waiting for her turn, Nina stared into the distance. Mio poured her a cup of tea.

“Thank you.”

But Nina didn’t drink it. She merely gazed into space. Perhaps because of her nightly interactions with forces not of this world, her eyes seemed distant, unfocused.

“Lady Nina, how are you feeling…?”

Mio couldn’t help but ask out of concern.

Nina smiled gently, as if to reassure her.

“I’m fine. Once today is over, I won’t need to continue those rituals anymore.”

“…Yes. Today is what it’s all been for.”

“If I made it to today, it’s thanks to you, Mio, for staying with me every night.”

“Oh, please don’t say that. I was only watching…”

"And Fio too," Nina added jokingly, mentioning her winged friend. Then, she glanced out the window.

"I wonder if Fio will come today as well."

"I'm sure they will. Fio loves you, Nina," Mio replied with a smile.

As Mio was speaking, the door opened, and Countess Ulshyrra appeared, her usual business-like tone filling the room.

"It's time."

"Yes."

"Good luck out there, Nina."

As Nina stood up from her chair, Mio called out impulsively, her words filled with sincerity.

"Um... Everyone at the palace, including me, is really rooting for you! So go out there, say what you need to say, and become the Queen of Urano!"

Mio gave an exaggerated cheer with a fist pump, and Nina smiled.

"Thank you, Mio. Yes, I'll say what I need to say and become the queen."

Nina mimicked Mio's gesture with a cute fist pump, and Mio beamed, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

"I can't be there to see it, but I'll be cheering for you from here! I'll be praying that everything goes well!"

Just then, Ulshyrra turned to Mio and said, "Mio, I need you to help as well."

"Huh?"

"Take this and stand at the edge of the plaza."

Ulshyrra handed Mio a large wicker basket. Looking inside, Mio saw it was filled with colourful flower petals.

"There are about fifty others scattered around the edge of the plaza holding similar baskets. Please make sure to keep a good distance from them."

"All I have to do is stand there?"

"Yes."

Still a little perplexed, Mio took the basket. She wasn’t entirely sure what her role was, but she was excited to be able to witness Nina's speech.

Nina, now looking more serious, turned to Ulshyrra and nodded.

"Shall we go?"

"Yes."

Ulshyrra led the way, and Nina followed. Mio silently sent her unspoken encouragement to Nina's back.

Do your best, Nina.

When Nina becomes the Queen of Urano, the world will surely change...

With these thoughts in mind, Mio quickly made her way through the corridors, exiting through the back door and reaching the large plaza in front of the cathedral, where the crowd eagerly awaited Nina's arrival.

As instructed by Ulshyrra, Mio headed towards the outer edge of the plaza, pushing through the throngs of people. The plaza, large enough to double as an airfield, was packed with what seemed like an endless sea of people. While making her way through the crowd with the basket in hand, she overheard snippets of conversations.

Most of the crowd was excited to see Nina Viento in person for the first time. There were plenty of idle rumours about her beauty and her mysterious abilities. However, since people had only known Nina through newspapers, magazines, and radio broadcasts, many were still skeptical of this "prophesied saviour" who had come from beyond the sea on a flying island.

"She's not even an Urano citizen…," "Is it really okay to make a foreigner our queen?" "I heard she doesn't even support Urano's control over the land," "They say she's against the holy war. Apparently, she hates the idea of war itself," "Can we really trust someone like that to be our ruler? Our taxes built that military, and now she won't even use it. What was the point?" These and other negative remarks about Nina could be heard all around. It was clear that the rumours spread by Demistri’s faction had seeped into the general public’s consciousness. If Nina failed in today's speech, those voices would grow louder and harder to ignore.

Breathing heavily, Mio finally reached the edge of the plaza and confirmed that no one else holding a similar basket was nearby. She waited for the speech to begin. Standing on her tiptoes, she could just make out the iron stage set up in front of the cathedral, along with microphones, speakers, and sound amplifiers. Everything was ready, and all that remained was for the main event to begin. The crowd's anticipation centred on how the "prophesied saviour" would present her case for the Urano throne.

The speech would also be broadcast via radio to every land nation influenced by Urano. Standing before such an enormous stage, could that frail Nina really deliver her speech? The thought made Mio anxious once again.

"Nina..."

As Mio whispered Nina’s name in prayer, a white-winged figure descended from the clear blue sky and landed on her shoulder.

"Fio! You came!"

Mio smiled. The white bird let out a small chirp and gazed towards the distant stage.

"Let’s cheer for Nina. She’s worked so hard for this day…"

At Mio's words, Fio suddenly flapped their wings and flew off towards the stage.

"Fio! Don't cause any trouble!"

Just as Mio called out, a tremendous cheer erupted from the seventy thousand-strong crowd, shaking the very air.

It was like an earthquake. The thunderous roar of the crowd was directed straight at Nina Viento, who had just stepped onto the stage. From where Mio stood, Nina was barely visible, a tiny figure amidst the sea of people.

"Nina! Do your best!"

Though her voice couldn’t possibly reach, Mio shouted with all her might, waving her hand. Nina, dressed in her pure white outfit, walked gingerly toward the microphone in the centre of the stage.

Mio clasped her hands in front of her chest, praying for Nina’s success.

All the hard work, both mental and physical, that Nina had put in night after night would now be put to the test...

As she stood before the thunderous applause of the crowd, Nina Viento—felt a strange sense of calm. Since childhood, she had been trained to speak in public as a political tool, so public speeches held little tension for her.

When she stepped up to the microphone, the cheers died down, and seventy thousand pairs of eyes turned toward her.

The content of her speech was nothing more than the script prepared by Pope Illustriali. All she had to do was recite it. The text was designed to undermine Demistri’s authority while promoting her own legitimacy. All Nina had to do was read the words aloud. It was a speech written by others, unrelated to her personal will, meant solely to secure the Urano throne.

In other words, it was a lie.

But Nina had already accepted that this was her path.

Even if she had to embrace the will of others, she would carve out her own future.

She stepped up to the microphone and began her speech.

"First, I would like to express my gratitude to Saint Aldista."

As her voice echoed from the speakers, the crowd once again erupted into a deafening roar that shook the ground beneath her feet.

"I am Nina Viento. By the fate decreed to me, I have been sent here from the distant lands beyond the holy springs, to this great city of Pleiades. To the chosen citizens of this magnificent city, there is a truth I must share with you."

Her calm tone silenced the roaring crowd almost instantly, like a wind clearing the clouds.

Nina recited the script written by the Pope.

"I am the only child of Saint Aldista. I inherited the powers born from the wind and descended upon this world. Some of you may believe that because I am not of Urano, I am unfit to claim the throne. In a sense, you are correct. I am neither Urano nor a citizen of the land. I am a descendant of Saint Aldista, sent to govern this great city, just as Ulysses, the first King of Urano, was chosen before me."

Her bold words left the crowd in stunned silence.

This girl, a foreigner from the edge of the world, had just declared herself to be of divine blood, the same as the legendary Ulysses, and therefore justified in claiming the throne. Few in the audience smiled with joy; most looked displeased or shocked by Nina's audacity.

But Nina was unfazed.

"I know that many false prophets throughout history have falsely claimed to be of divine descent, only to be exposed and cast down. And I know that many of you might think I am one of them. I won’t waste a thousand words here today. Instead, I will show you a miracle."

The crowd began to murmur.

"As you all know, Saint Aldista was born of the wind. Even now, the wind carries the will of the gods into this world. Remember, the swirling of the wind is the voice of the divine."

With those words, Nina closed her eyes.

She called out to the wind in her heart.

──Wind, this will be the last time.

She raised her right hand slowly above her head.

──You’ve helped me so many times.

With her fingers extended toward the sky, she felt a familiar sensation flow through her fingertips, down her wrist, and into her chest.

──Thank you, kind wind.

Nina opened her eyes and gazed up at the clear blue winter sky.

──Let’s dance.

Nina focused her gaze on the crowd, slowly lowering her right arm, pointing at the seventy thousand people before her.

"Wind, heed my call."

Her voice, amplified through the microphone, echoed across the plaza.

In that instant, the atmosphere howled, shaking the heavens.

──Let us sing.

"Deliver the blessed sound."

──This is our last song together.

In an instant, flower petals swirled in the sky above the plaza.

The crowd murmured in awe. As the sound of the wind rushed by, it was as if a river of flowers had been painted across the blue sky. The colourful petals—red, blue, yellow, purple—swirled overhead, carried by the wind. The spectators, realizing that the wind was controlling the petals, huddled closer together, bracing against what they thought would be a gust. Then, they noticed something strange.

There was no wind on the ground!

The whirlwind was lifting the petals only in the air, several meters above the ground, avoiding the people entirely!

"What is this!?" "The wind is blowing only up there!" "It’s Nina! Nina is controlling the wind!"

As the confused crowd looked up at the swirling petals, Nina spoke to them.

"This wind is the will of Saint Aldista. It will not harm you. Bear witness and spread the word of this miracle to those not present here today."

Nina then raised her right arm.

The wind intensified, dividing the river of petals into two streams, which then merged again at a higher altitude, forming a vibrant, flowing ring in the sky. Realizing that Nina Viento was controlling the wind, the crowd began to cheer. Some knelt in reverence, others prostrated themselves in prayer, overcome by the sight of the miracle they were witnessing.

Nina, maintaining her composure, recited the grandiose lines written by Illustriali while inwardly singing with the wind.

Though her body remained on the stage, her heart had become one with the wind, sweeping across the plaza.

She spotted the servants holding the baskets of petals, directing the wind to lift the flowers and weave even more vivid trails in the winter sky. As time passed, the cheers grew louder, and some even wept as they praised Nina.

As the wind, Nina spotted Mio at the edge of the plaza, holding her basket of flowers.

Mio, with a bright smile on her face, was enthusiastically waving and cheering for Nina.

"Nina, you're amazing! You’re calling the wind!"

Seeing Mio’s joy at her success filled Nina with an overwhelming sense of happiness, bringing her close to tears.

She knew that Mio had been sent by Zenon as a spy. Every piece of information from the Lamia Palace likely reached Zenon's ears through her. Yet, here was Mio, sincerely cheering for Nina, even when no one else was watching. Despite their roles and allegiances, Mio genuinely wanted Nina to succeed, and that made Nina incredibly happy.

──Thank you, Mio.

The wind, now Nina herself, swirled around Mio, sweeping the petals from her basket.

Mio's face lit up with joy and surprise as the wind playfully brushed her cheek before carrying the petals into the air, adding more colour to the swirling patterns in the sky.

The applause from the crowd, gazing at the magical display above them, showed no sign of stopping.

Amid the cheers, Nina was exchanging her final words with the wind.

She could feel it—this connection, this power was slipping away. The song of the wind, which had once been so familiar to her as a child, was gradually fading.

Thinking back, it was this power that had shaped her strange and tragic destiny.

As a child, persecuted as a witch, her mother had chosen to sell Nina over her brother. Nina believed that her mother had abandoned her because of this wind-calling power, and she grew to resent it. She was later used by revolutionaries to bring down the La Hire family, throwing the fates of countless people into chaos. Unable to bear the weight of her actions, Nina spent several years of her youth with a broken mind.

But everything changed after she was exiled from the Republic of Balesteros on Isla.

She met wonderful friends. They helped her heal her heart, and during the battle with Urano, she wished to reclaim her wind-calling power to save her fallen comrades. The wind answered her call, saving Isla from destruction.

And then there was him.

──Kal-el.

Karl La Hire, the last prince Nina had once stripped of everything, now known as Kal-el Albus.

Though he had every reason to hate her, he had accepted Nina, and now, he was leading a massive fleet toward Pleiades, all to bring her back.

──We’ll meet again, won’t we?

But the journey of the Isla fleet was fraught with danger. Urano's influence far exceeded Kal-el’s expectations, and without intervention, the fleet faced certain annihilation.

──I have so much I want to tell you.

──I want to know more about you.

That was why Nina had decided to become the Queen of Urano.

──I want to stay by your side forever.

If she became queen, she could prevent a war with the Isla fleet and resolve the conflict peacefully.

For that reason, she would claim to be divine, deceive the world itself.

──Wind, lend your power to my lie.

──Grant me the strength to forge a future.

──The power to change the world.

Nina prayed to the wind, no longer resenting it. She was grateful for the power that had brought her to this moment.

Guiding the colourful petals, Nina wove a tapestry of wind into the sky.

At that moment, she spotted a white bird soaring through the air.

──Fio.

Mio’s mysterious pet bird.

Nina decided on the spot to make Fio part of the spectacle.

──Fio, let’s dance.

The wind, now Nina herself, flowed beside Fio, speaking to it.

She heard a soft chirp in reply. Fio, it seemed, had come to cheer for Nina as well. Smiling, Nina unravelled the ring of petals, transforming it into a flowing stream, placing Fio at its head.

A loud cheer rose from the crowd.

The white bird flying across the sky left a trail of colourful petals in its wake.

As Fio glided freely, the stream of petals followed its path, as if the bird were cutting through the sky and creating a rainbow of flower petals in its wake.

Nina addressed the crowd through the microphone.

"Saint Aldista journeyed with a white bird as their companion. Perhaps this bird flying in the sky today is also the will of Saint Aldista."

This was an unscripted addition from Nina, but judging by the crowd’s reaction, it was an effective one. She was recreating a scene from Urano's mythology right before their eyes.

Nina extended her right hand, calling to Fio.

"Come, messenger of the gods. Who shall be the next king?"

──Fio, come to me.

Trailing petals behind it, Fio responded to Nina’s will, descending in a straight line to land gracefully on the back of her hand.

Nina stood tall, continuing her performance with poise.

"Thank you for your judgment, Saint Aldista."

Declaring herself the chosen heir to the throne, Nina's words were met with the loudest cheer of the day. The crowd’s shouts of praise for Nina Viento surged forward, pressing down on Nina like a physical force.

Countess Ulshyrra’s planted agents among the crowd seized the moment, raising their voices above the others.

"A miracle! It’s a miracle!" "Saint Aldista has chosen Nina Viento!" "The next king is Nina! Our king must be one of divine descent!"

The name "Nina Viento" spread like wildfire, passing from one mouth to another, until the entire crowd of seventy thousand was chanting it in unison, their voices rippling across the sky.

──Thank you, Fio.

Nina smiled at the bird perched on her hand, then released it into the air.

With one final burst of strength, she summoned a gust of wind, sending it skyward.

The petals caught the wind, following Fio as they soared higher and higher, scattering in all directions.

──Goodbye, wind.

As she watched the drifting petals, Nina bid farewell to the wind.

The song of the wind would no longer reach her.

──Thank you for everything.

Amidst the endless cheers, Nina lifted the hem of her dress, stepped back gracefully, and turned away from the crowd.

Even as she descended the stage, the chants of Nina’s name continued to echo through the plaza. Returning inside the cathedral, she was met by Countess Ulshyrra, who caught her just as she began to stumble.

"My lady."

Ulshyrra hurried to support Nina, who leaned against her and managed a faint smile.

"It’s over. I can’t call the wind anymore."

Ulshyrra, her expression as stoic as ever, replied in her usual emotionless tone.

"It was splendid. The matter is settled."

Supporting Nina, Ulshyrra’s glasses gleamed as she spoke.

"You will be the Queen of Urano."

Despite Ulshyrra’s words, the reality hadn’t quite sunk in for Nina. But the roaring cheers from the plaza told her that the speech had been a great success.

"However, the real test begins now. Though we come from the land below, we must now step into the heart of a sky-dwelling world filled with beasts and demons…"

As she gazed toward the distant Urano palace, Ulshyrra's words carried a foreboding tone.

As the citizens of Pleiades indulged in their raucous fervour, the man could only feel disgust welling up within him.

These commoners, devoid of any true conviction or thought, leapt at anything that amused them, now completely beguiled by the spectacle that Nina Viento had put on, fully intent on making her their queen.

Dressed in disguise, with a wide-brimmed hat pulled low and a black coat wrapped around him, First Prince Demistri pushed his way through the cheering crowds, followed by a dozen or so similarly disguised guards. As they moved to the edge of the plaza, he cast a distorted look at his aide beside him.

"Foul commoners. Do they think they can choose a king through some street performance?"

"You are absolutely right, Your Highness," the aide agreed.

"That woman dares claim to be a god. It's beyond blasphemy. And they want to make her the ruler of the palace?"

Demistri bit his nails in frustration, his eyes narrowing at the now-empty stage where Nina had stood moments ago, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"We must remove her. Physically."

At the prince's inflammatory words, his aide’s face darkened. The aide cleared his throat, gently cautioning him.

"If you act now, the blame will fall on you, Your Highness."

“...”

"If she enters the palace, she’ll be surrounded by your supporters. There are countless ways to squeeze her politically. Even these citizens, who are supporting her now, will change their tune with just one or two incidents. We must wait for the right time."

Demistri’s eyes burned with hatred as he glared at his aide.

"Must I endure this humiliation any longer?"

"The most important thing right now is patience, Your Highness."

"Renjaku."

Ignoring his aide’s advice, Demistri called out to the tall young man standing behind him.

Renjaku, the second-in-command of the Patriotic Order, responded promptly.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Could you kill Nina?"

Renjaku, without changing his expression, answered immediately.

"If that is your command, I will do so at once."

"Your Highness..." The aide furrowed his brow in disapproval.

Demistri sneered, turning his venomous gaze on the aide.

"Why must I endure this? I am the king’s eldest son. The rightful heir. Why should everything be taken away from me by some woman who suddenly appeared?"

The depth of Demistri’s hatred was enough to even make his aide recoil.

"Simply killing her isn't enough. I want to disgrace her with my own hands and throw her into the slums."

Uttering curses unbecoming of royalty, Demistri’s eyes filled with twisted malice as he clenched his fists.

"Wait for the right time, Your Highness. Once it comes, Nina can be dealt with however you wish. She will be at your mercy..."

"I’ll strip her of that ridiculous costume, hang her naked, and lash her. No matter how much she cries or begs for mercy, I won’t stop. I’ll lock her in a cage, collar her like a dog, and train her to follow my every command."

"Yes, yes, whatever pleases Your Highness..."

As Demistri indulged in his crude fantasies and the aide continued to soothe him, Renjaku allowed the faintest glimmer of mockery to flicker in his gaze, unnoticed by the others.

He was well aware that Hachidori was guarding Nina. However, to Renjaku, Hachidori posed no challenge. His earlier response had been entirely truthful—if Demistri ordered it, he could infiltrate the cathedral immediately and snap Nina’s neck without anyone noticing.

──If you hate her that much, just give the order already.

Renjaku suppressed the unspoken thought, letting it drift deep within him.

──What a stifling existence, being a royal.

Watching Demistri and his aide's exchange with faint amusement, Renjaku kept his true thoughts hidden behind an emotionless facade, his gaze turning toward the distant cathedral.

──If it's Hachidori, it’ll be easy.

──I’ll make him cry again...

Recalling Hachidori's tear-streaked face from their childhood, Renjaku barely held back a laugh. He maintained a composed demeanour as he continued to listen to Demistri’s vile desires being voiced one after another.

──May your foolish dreams come true, you pathetic prince.

While inwardly ridiculing his so-called master, Renjaku dreamed of the day when he would finally kill Hachidori with his own hands.

Part 22 (Part 8 of Volume 6)

The attack would not target factories or steel mills, but directly aim for the capital.

The first move of the St Vault Operation Command against Akitsu Federation's mainland was to carry out a strategic bombing aimed at the city's inhabitants. The objective was to deliver devastating damage to the enemy's capital before their air defence system could be fully established, thereby severely undermining the enemy's will to fight. Forty-five new Teodora bombers were deployed at the recently captured Karanakuta fortress, with the Voltec Air Squadron providing escort. A night bombing raid on the capital, Misato, was ordered.

December 5, 1349 Imperial Calendar, Karanakuta Fortress, First Airfield.

In the briefing room of the air command station, Colonel Abraham Monroe, commander of the Voltec Air Squadron, conveyed the mission details to the seventy fighter pilots in attendance.

On the operations map pinned to the blackboard, the route from Karanakuta to Misato was marked, along with an icon indicating the airborne fortress Suzaku stationed offshore near the capital.

"Suzaku serves as the first line of aerial defence for Misato. If we attempt an air strike on the capital, the fighter squadrons launching from Suzaku will be our first obstacle. This mission is a night bombing raid to minimize interference from enemy fighters while also assessing the enemy's night-fighting capabilities. Our air superiority units will act as decoys to lure out the Suzaku air squadron, while the bombing force will take a different route to infiltrate Misato."

Illia glanced out the window and noticed the sun beginning to set. It would take two hours to reach Misato from Karanakuta, so they would likely arrive under the cover of night.

"The forecast is clear skies over Misato tonight, with the moon out. Visibility will be decent, but how much dogfighting we can engage in remains uncertain. This is a high-risk surprise attack, but that also makes it difficult for the enemy to predict and respond. You’ve all honed your skills to their peak, making this mission possible. Rely on your experience, fight with everything you’ve got, and come back alive. Dismissed. Prepare for launch!"

With a shout of acknowledgment, the pilots all leapt from their seats.

Illia, too, composed herself and left the briefing room. The seventy Voltec Squadron pilots selected for this mission were filled with fierce determination. Ever since the Battle of Sierra Greed in July, through Santos Island, Isrion, and the capture of Karanakuta, the squadron had seen constant large-scale air battles and emerged victorious each time, instilling the pilots with unshakable confidence in their combat abilities.

"Let’s go, Lord Illia!"

With a playful call, Senior Airman Mcguire sprinted toward the flight line.

"Today’s in your hands again, Lord!"

Non-commissioned Airman Leon grinned as he shouted after Illia, chasing Mcguire.

"Take care, both of you!"

Calling out after them, Illia glanced toward the line, where the first of the fighters slated for the air superiority role had already begun their warm-ups. As she headed toward her own aircraft, the twin airmen, Lulu and Lala, caught up to her and called out.

"Illia, do your best!"

"But don't push too hard since it's night!"

"Thank you. You both stay safe as well."

"We'll be fine!"

"Watch out for the commander, okay?"

In this mission, Illia was paired with Leo, flying in a two-ship formation in their Beo-Strikes. It had been determined that formations could only be flown effectively with aircraft of identical performance, hence this arrangement.

"Understood. I'll protect him."

Nodding, Illia parted from the twins and caught up with Leo, who was running ahead, calling out to him as they ran side by side.

"Thank you for your guidance."

Leo glanced at her and replied.

"Do as you like. Watching over me will be boring."

"Not at all."

"Formations break up in the chaos of battle anyway. Fight as you see fit. But swear to one thing."

"…?"

Leo paused, turning his sharp gaze on her.

"Whoever you're up against, don't hold back."

Illia's chest tightened. She couldn't respond. Leo continued.

"Even if it's Sakagami or Kagura, pull the trigger without hesitation."

"…"

"That’s the code of chivalry. Sakagami and Kagura will face you with the same resolve. Fighting them with everything you have is the greatest respect you can show. Steel yourself."

"…Yes, sir."

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, sir!!"

Her shout echoed just as they reached their aircraft.

The Beo-Strike, with the emblem of the "White Wolf" emblazoned on its nose, was the latest model of fighter aircraft.

Since her first flight in this machine, Illia had fought in eight more air battles, and she had finally begun to feel that the aircraft moved as an extension of her own limbs. With forty confirmed kills in the Beo-Strike, her total number of downed enemy aircraft had surged to seventy-six. At this rate, the newspapers speculated she would soon surpass Leo, who had ninety-two confirmed kills.

With one foot on the wing of her aircraft, Leo gave one final reminder.

"You are St Vault's ace. The air superiority battle hinges on your skill. Every enemy you down shifts the advantage to our side, reduces our losses. If you hesitate and let Sakagami or Kagura go, they'll down Lulu or Lala. Don't forget that."

"…Yes, sir. I’ll keep it in mind."

Leo nodded at her response and climbed into his cockpit. Illia followed, swinging herself into her familiar seat and conducting a quick check of her instruments.

She knew Leo was right.

The objective of this mission was to strike terror and shock into the enemy. If they bypassed Suzaku and razed the capital, it would cast doubt on the enemy's ability to defend itself. If everything went well, it could be a turning point in the war, but they would need to brace for heavy casualties on their own side as well. There was no room for holding back.

With the sun dipping low behind them, Illia cast a long glance toward the distant sky over Misato, where Sakagami and Kagura were likely waiting. She extended an arm from her cockpit, signalling the ground crew to release the wheel blocks. Her Beo-Strike began to taxi slowly.

Leading the formation was a single Teodora bomber, with the best navigator and strategist aboard. Following closely were forty-one air superiority fighters under Leo’s command. Behind them, the main bomber formation of forty-four Teodora bombers, along with twenty-nine escort fighters, completed the procession.

"Let’s go, Illia."

Leo's voice came through the speaker.

"Yes, sir."

Illia took position slightly behind and to the right of Leo and opened the throttle simultaneously with him.

The two fighters lifted off in unison, circling to an altitude of five hundred meters as they awaited the rest of the formation. The radio channels buzzed with coordination chatter, as well as the banter of non-commissioned officers, all eagerly anticipating the coming adventure. It was their first confrontation with the Akitsu Federation's fighter squadrons, and the excitement in their voices was palpable.

Soon enough, the entire air superiority group had taken off and formed up into thirteen three-plane elements in the sky.

With Leo and Illia's two-plane formation at the front, followed by the thirteen elements in flawless order, they set their course westward toward Misato.

"Let’s set the sky ablaze."

At Leo's quiet command, a collective cheer erupted through the speakers, shaking the air as the Voltec Air Squadron soared toward their target, Misato.

One hour later, at the first airfield of the airborne fortress "Suzaku."

The "shadows" that appeared on the early warning radar were most likely the aircraft squadron of the St Vault Imperial Army, having departed from the Karanakuta Fortress. Kusanagi Air Squadron Commander Haruhiko Ogiya concluded as much.

Immediately, all fighter pilots were placed on standby. Ogiya conveyed the situation to the thirty pilots gathered in the waiting room.

“There are no reports from the patrol boats. Ground radar provides only a rough grasp of the situation, but judging from the shadows, a large formation of forty to ninety aircraft is heading southwest. Their target is unknown, but it’s likely either Suzaku or Misato. You are to launch immediately and strike the enemy's vanguard.”

The response echoed through the waiting room with force. Kiyoaki, however, remained silent, staring at the map showing the route between Karanakuta Fortress and Suzaku, and the projected path of the enemy.

“Suzaku will move southeast and take position at a midpoint between Karanakuta and Misato. We’ll block the enemy's route from the centre. This is a night mission, but there’s moonlight, and with your skills, aerial combat should be possible. Remember, 1.4 million citizens of Misato rely on your protection. The Voltec Air Squadron has faced numerous large-scale air battles and emerged victorious each time. Now, demonstrate the results of your intense training and let the name of Kusanagi Air Squadron resound across the archipelago. That’s all. Launch!”

The thirty battle-hardened pilots stood with determination.

Among them was Kagura.

She approached the dark-eyed Kiyoaki, speaking with firm resolve.

“Let’s fulfill our oath, Kiyoaki.”

“…”

“We always knew this day would come. Giving our all is the best way to repay Commander Leo and everyone else.”

“…”

“As soldiers, we must fight for the people of our homeland. That’s the path you, I, and Illia chose. If our paths cross, we must fight with everything we have.”

Kagura’s words carried the weight of someone who had reached this conclusion after a long internal struggle. Her voice was filled with a sense of conviction born from experience.

Yet, Kiyoaki couldn’t respond.

“I trust you, Kiyoaki. You’ll fight for the people of this country.”

With those words, Kagura placed her hand on Kiyoaki's shoulder before exiting the waiting room.

“Sakagami Ensign! Let’s go!”

His wingman, Dambazolik, called out in a bright voice. The other wingman, Rensuke, with the expression of a warrior, also urged Kiyoaki.

“This is the decisive battle. I will fight with everything I have.”

Kiyoaki managed a nod, his gaze shifting outside.

“...Yeah. Let’s go.”

Dragging his heavy feet, he forced himself out of the command centre.

It was already evening. The sun was about to set on the horizon. On the first airfield, the rows of "Murasame" fighter planes had already started their engines. In front of them, two distinct aircraft with ferocious engine roars stood out.

These were the latest fighter planes, the "Ikaruga," which would play a pivotal role in today’s battle.

Only the Ikaruga could stand against the Imperial Army's Beo-Strike.

Kiyoaki and Ryu were entrusted with the planes that could become the Federation’s Saviors.

“They say she’s got a white wolf nose art on her plane.”

Standing beside Kiyoaki, Ryu muttered.

Kiyoaki said nothing. Ryu smirked at his silence.

“Don’t worry. I’ll shoot down your precious girl.”

“…”

“You’ll be happy, won’t you? I’ll kill all your friends, so you can just sit back and reminisce.”

Ryu climbed the ladder into the "Ikaruga" bearing the white tiger nose art near its nose.

“Sakagami Ensign! Quickly!” “She’s in perfect condition! You’ll definitely win! The Ikaruga is a fantastic fighter!”

The mechanics hurried him as Kiyoaki stood motionless.

Kiyoaki looked at his own plane.

The nose art of a "black rabbit" had already been painted on its nose. Ogiya had ordered it to mark the plane, and Kiyoaki had chosen this symbol as part of a promise he made with Illia when they escaped from the airborne fortress Odin.

“I’ll tell you my marker. I’ll have the nose art of a white wolf, given to me by my father. You, put a black rabbit on yours. That way, I’ll know it’s you.”

If he flew in this plane, Illia would see him. And he would see her.

–And then…what?

–Would Illia shoot him down?

–Would he be able to shoot her down?

“My family is in Misato! Sakagami Ensign, protect Misato!”

The desperate plea of one of the mechanics tore through Kiyoaki’s thoughts.

He looked weakly at the three mechanics. They had spent countless hours maintaining this plane, treating it as their own child. Their only wish was to see him fly triumphantly, to defend the skies of Misato.

Kiyoaki’s duty was to protect the people of this country from the enemy.

No matter who the enemy was.

“...I know. I won’t let anyone lay a hand on Misato…anyone.”

With a hoarse voice, Kiyoaki muttered, finally placing his trembling hand on the ladder and slowly pulling himself into the cockpit as if carrying the weight of a stone statue on his back.

His heart pounded in his chest.

He had never felt such dread before a mission. He had no idea what awaited him in the night sky ahead.

Just looking up at the evening sky, where dusk was about to fall, brought flashes of his comrades from the Voltec Air Squadron—the kind people who had helped him and Kagura escape, without a second thought about their own positions. Was he really expected to put them in his crosshairs and pull the trigger?

“I will not go easy. I’ll do everything I can to take you down. You must swear the same. If you meet us on the battlefield, you will fight the Voltec Air Squadron with everything you have. You’ll fight with all your strength to take us down.”

Leo’s words from their farewell at Odin came to mind. Kiyoaki had wept, promising to fight them, no matter what.

“I’m sure we’ll meet in the skies someday. I know I must defeat you. It’s my fate.”

Illia’s words echoed in his memory. With just a glint in her eyes, she had resolutely declared her determination to challenge him to a duel.

“When we meet on the battlefield, let’s fight for real.”

Kiyoaki had promised to honour Illia’s wish.

–Was this the night to fulfill that promise?

As Kiyoaki hesitated, his comrades began taking off one after another. Ryu had long since abandoned waiting for him and had already flown off.

“Sakagami, launch.”

Ogiya’s command came over the speaker. Glancing outside the cockpit, Kiyoaki saw the mechanics praying, lined up and looking at him expectantly. Dambazolik and Rensuke were waiting in their "Murasame" fighters, holding position, awaiting his departure. Ahead of him, Kagura’s "Murasame" crossed his path. She looked at him from the cockpit.

“Kiyoaki, let’s go.”

With trembling hands, Kiyoaki connected the gyroscope and engine shaft. The roar of the propeller alone was enough to tell him how much the mechanics had poured their hearts into maintaining the aircraft at its peak performance. After every sortie, the mechanics would rush to him, eager to hear how well their plane had performed. When he recounted the details of his victories, they would clap their hands in joy, as if they had fought the battle themselves. Through this plane, the mechanics flew and fought alongside the pilot.

–So many people's hopes ride on these wings.

–This plane isn’t just mine… The Ikaruga is the Federation’s hope.

He extended his arm from the cockpit, signalling for the wheel chocks to be removed. The Ikaruga began its slow taxi down the runway.

Dambazolik and Rensuke followed closely behind, their joy evident. Though their different aircraft made it difficult to form a squadron in combat, the two still flew as Kiyoaki’s wingmen that night.

–My first battle in the Ikaruga. And at night. I have to stay sharp...

Determined, he opened the throttle and began his take-off roll.

The Ikaruga’s acceleration weighed heavily on him. Though he had spent around ten days getting used to it, taming this beast in real combat was still an unknown.

–The Voltec Air Squadron is strong. If I hold back, they’ll kill me.

–I must give everything I have, as I promised.

As the lift built under his wings, Kiyoaki pulled back on the control stick. With a high-pitched roar from its propeller, the Ikaruga shook off the shackles of gravity and soared into the crimson sunset sky.

When he looked back, the majestic form of Suzaku was illuminated by the fading sunlight. Dambazolik and Rensuke’s Murasame fighters flanked him on both sides, forming a three-plane formation.

"We'll be guided to the expected enemy contact zone by the lead plane. Everyone, turn on your wingtip lights."

The voice of Captain Maolong echoed in his headset. Three-seat lightning strike aircraft, with yellow and white wingtip lights, led the thirty-strong Kusanagi Air Squadron toward the anticipated path of the enemy’s air superiority squadron. Since the Federation’s fighter planes didn’t have onboard radar, they would rely on wingtip lights and moonlight for this nighttime dogfight. Both sides faced a difficult aerial combat under these conditions.

About thirty minutes after leaving Suzaku, the last of the red sunset disappeared from the horizon, and moonlight bathed the sea below. Looking up, the sky was dotted with millions of stars. Even without straining his eyes, Kiyoaki could distinguish the bodies and wings of the squadron planes by their wingtip lights.

He marvelled at how bright the moon was. It was December, so the air was clear, and under these weather conditions, it seemed possible to engage in combat even without radar.

Current altitude: 5,500 meters.

Relying on his compass, altimeter, and speedometer, Kiyoaki marked his flight chart on the map as they flew. He hoped he’d be able to regroup with the lead plane after the battle, but if not, he would have to rely on instrument flying to return to Suzaku. His anxiety was interrupted by a transmission from the lead aircraft.

“According to estimates, we’ll encounter the enemy about 150 nautical miles off the coast of Misato. You are to perform repeated attacks while flying parallel to the enemy squadron. After the battle, if returning to Suzaku is difficult, you may land at the airfield in Misato. The decision is yours."

It seemed that worrying about the return wasn’t necessary. Since it was a defensive mission, there was relief in knowing they could land in Misato if fuel ran low.

“All units, spread out and extinguish your wingtip lights. We'll lie in wait here.”

The Voltec Air Squadron was drawing near. The friendly formation spread out, taking care to keep enough distance from one another and dimming their lights. Thanks to the moonlight and the exhaust flames, they could still see each other.

“From this point on, all communications will be silenced until combat begins. Judging by radar, the enemy is likely unaware of the ambush.”

The lead aircraft's voice cut off. It seemed the Voltec Air Squadron had underestimated the ground radar capabilities of Suzaku.

–The Voltec Air Squadron, thinking they’re launching a surprise attack, is about to be ambushed themselves...

The current conditions heavily favoured Kusanagi Air Squadron.

Kiyoaki felt a wave of nausea. Images of Illia, Leo, Lul, Lala, and his other comrades’ smiling faces once again flashed through his mind.

–I hope they notice the ambush.

A treacherous thought surfaced within him. He wasn’t even sure whose side he was on anymore.

–Illia, if it’s you, surely you can see through this trap...

As Kiyoaki silently prayed to the stars, he saw a glimmer of blue and red in the distance.

The wingtip lights of the St Vault Empire’s aircraft. The fact that they still had their lights on was proof they hadn’t noticed the ambush.

The lead aircraft waggled its wings. It was the signal for enemy sighting. One after another, the thirty planes of the Kusanagi Air Squadron responded, confirming they had spotted the enemy.

The Voltec Air Squadron was flying approximately 1,000 meters below them, at around 4,000 meters in altitude, moving calmly and unaware. In air combat, altitude confers a significant advantage, so Kusanagi Air Squadron already had the upper hand. Curious, Kiyoaki fiddled with his radio frequencies, and sure enough, he picked up the familiar, casual banter of his old comrades.

He recognized Macguire’s voice, followed by Leon’s, and then Lul and Lala’s.

The voices of everyone he dreaded meeting in this sky were coming through the radio. Since they hadn’t yet entered the combat zone, they hadn’t turned off their wingtip lights or enforced radio silence, still underestimating the Federation forces. This lax approach may have worked against the Hydrabard forces, but Akitsu Federation wouldn’t be so forgiving. Even the Voltec Air Squadron would be no match for Kusanagi’s precision strikes if caught off-guard.

"Turn off the radio, you're being ambushed...!!"

He wanted to scream, his voice filled with desperation. The urge to switch the radio to transmit and shout a warning to Leo was overwhelming, but if he did, the Kusanagi Air Squadron would be the ones shot down, and the innocent citizens of Misato would be burned alive by the enemy bombers.

Illia gripped the control stick of her Beo-Strike tightly, her eyes fixed upward on the enemy squadron a thousand meters above, waiting for the moment of engagement.

She could practically feel the enemy licking their lips, creeping in to take advantage of what they thought was a perfectly vulnerable situation, aiming to strike from a superior altitude.

"Hey, Captain, do you see that?"

"Should we turn off the lights yet?"

Lulu and Lala's voices crackled over the speaker. They had been instructed to keep the conversation as unrelated to the battle as possible before take-off, but it was clear they were starting to worry. Speaking in St Vault language meant few in Akitsu would understand, but if Kiyoaki or Kagura were among the enemy, their words could be dangerously exposed.

"The ring of the moon is above us."

Leo's bitter voice responded with the agreed-upon code. The "ring of the moon" referred to the enemy formation. Every pilot in the Voltec Air Squadron had already spotted the approaching enemy squadron sneaking up from above, yet they all pretended to be oblivious.

–We are the bait.

–Our role is to lure the Kusanagi Air Squadron in.

–Meanwhile, the follow-up bomber squad will slip through the forward defences on a different route and strike Misato.

Illia recalled the briefing, keeping her wingtip lights on, awaiting the Kusanagi squadron's descent.

Her prayer was simple:

–I hope Kiyoaki and Kagura aren’t among them.

Her hands, gripping the control stick, were damp with sweat.

–Please, let fate not be so cruel as to make me face them in battle.

As she prayed, the black silhouettes of thirty Murasame fighters descended from the starry sky, like mounted warriors galloping down a cliff, their propellers howling in place of war cries, launching a coordinated dive attack.

"Lights off!!"

Leo’s sharp command echoed through all planes.

In an instant, every pilot extinguished their wingtip lights.

"Scatter!!"

The next command came swiftly. The formation spread out, breaking the alignment and confusing the descending enemy fighters.

"Here we go, everyone!!"

Macguire’s rallying cry roared over the speakers, followed by the wild, unintelligible cheers of the other pilots as they dove into combat.

Illia bit her lip, tilting the control stick to the side and scattering with the others.

The enemy squadron, having been poised to sink their claws into their prey, suddenly lost their targets with the blackout, and with the shifted positions, their attack went wide, tracer rounds missing their marks entirely.

Amidst the chaos, Illia spotted something clearly different from the Murasame fighters.

"Hey, there's something weird, right?"

"Looks like it has a propeller in the back, maybe?"

The twins’ carefree voices reached Illia's ears.

Kiyoaki gripped the control stick, staring at the unfolding chaos below as the Kusanagi Squadron's ambush failed and descended into disarray. He heard Commander Maolong’s shout through the radio:

“They vanished!?”

The Voltec Air Squadron, who should have been down below, had disappeared into the darkness.

“Damn it! They noticed us! Scatter, be careful!!”

The radio became a cacophony of frantic voices. In the black sky, dozens of dark shadows crisscrossed, with bright red tracer rounds streaking toward the sea.

The anticipated first strike—the explosion of the initial attack—never came. Instead, the Kusanagi Squadron’s Murasame fighters plunged toward the sea in a futile dive, while the Voltec Beo-Eagles flipped their wings and chased the retreating Murasame fighters. With no difference in endurance between the aircraft, the Beo-Eagles quickly caught up to the Murasame fighters, unleashing a barrage of gunfire on their tails.

–They knew…

Watching the chaotic battle unfold below, Kiyoaki felt a strange sense of relief, and then a wave of self-loathing.

–What am I doing…?

Kiyoaki hadn’t even initiated his dive. He watched his comrades disappear below him, while he remained at an altitude of 5,500 meters, flying level. The moonlight illuminated the battle space, where tracer rounds crisscrossed, and finally, fire blossomed in the dark sky.

Yet, he couldn’t move.

“What is that aircraft!? Be careful, the one with the inverted gull wings is strong!!” “That’s a Beo-Strike! It’s the enemy’s latest fighter!!”

Hearing the panic in his comrades’ voices, Kiyoaki felt fear creep over him. The memory of the Voltec news article resurfaced in his mind. The ones piloting those Beo-Strikes…

"Lieutenant Sakagami, where are you!? Our allies are being shot down—hurry!!"

Dambazolik and Rensuke's desperate cries cut through the dread. Both had likely never imagined Kiyoaki wouldn’t fight. They had already descended and were being chased, their tails exposed to enemy fire.

"Fight, Kiyoaki!!"

Kagura’s shout echoed in his headset.

–Kagura is fighting the Voltec Squadron as promised, just as Leo had asked…!

Kiyoaki bit his lip until it bled. Kagura’s words carried the weight of her pain, her inner turmoil now distilled into that single call to him.

Desperate cries from his comrades continued to flood the radio:

"Help me! I can’t shake them!!" "The Beo-Strikes are too fast; we can’t keep up! Our Murasame are being toyed with!!"

Far below, the Kusanagi Squadron was being overwhelmed. The enemy had anticipated their ambush, and two next-generation fighters were wreaking havoc with overwhelming performance. Straining his eyes, Kiyoaki could just make out the abnormal manoeuvres of the enemy fighters. Based on their flight patterns, he could identify them.

–It’s Leo and Illia.

His hands trembled on the controls.

If he didn’t stop them, his comrades would be slaughtered.

The 1.4 million citizens of Misato would have their homes burned and their families killed.

"Lieutenant Sakagami, please fight!!"

"Only the Ikaruga can defeat them!!"

Dambazolik and Rensuke’s pleas echoed with desperation.

"Kiyoaki, fulfill your promise!!"

Even Kagura, her voice trembling with tears, was challenging Leo and Illia, firing her 20mm cannon without hesitation.

–I have to fulfill my promise…!

Kiyoaki tried to summon his resolve by imagining Kagura’s courage, but his arms remained stiff, gripping the control stick as if frozen.

–Move! Please move, damn it…!

Just as he was trapped in self-disgust, another voice came through the radio.

"It’s useless to expect anything from a coward."

It was Ryu’s voice.

"I’ll take them down. I won’t let you die."

Ryu’s words were cold and detached, but delivered with deadly confidence.

Kiyoaki still couldn’t move. He couldn’t even speak. Below, around 2,000 meters, another bloom of fire erupted in the melee.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Ryu!!"

Dambazolik’s relieved voice echoed over the radio. It seemed Ryu had shot down the enemy that had been chasing him.

"Ryu, take out the Beo-Strikes!" "Please, we’re all getting shot down by them!!"

Their pleas for help all converged on Ryu.

"Leave it to me."

Ryu’s calm response was followed by more explosions. The cheers over the radio made it clear that Ryu was successfully downing the Voltec fighters.

–Could that have been Illia…?

Kiyoaki felt a wave of dread wash over him as he tried to make out the Beo-Strike silhouette, and when he saw that it was not Illia’s, an overwhelming sense of relief coursed through him. If anyone saw that, they’d have every right to kill him on the spot.

With each explosion, Kiyoaki's chest felt as though it would burst. He could barely contain the bile rising in his throat.

Was that last one Illia? Could it have been Kagura? Were Rensuke and Dambazolik safe? What about Leo, Lul, and Lala?

His mind, split between worry for both sides, was being torn apart with every explosion.

He knew the faces and names of every pilot out there, both friend and foe. He knew their lives, their families, their friends, and lovers. These were people fighting to protect those they cared about.

People with the same feelings on both sides, killing each other.

–Am I supposed to join them in this?

–Am I supposed to take lives with my own hands?

The members of the Voltec Squadron, with whom Kiyoaki had once laughed and drank, were now locked in deadly combat with the Kusanagi Squadron, with whom he had trained tirelessly on Suzaku. Both were his comrades. In a different world, they might have flown together as equals, united in their love of the sky.

They didn’t hate each other, so why were they killing each other?

"Sakagami. If you don’t fight, your comrades will die."

Ryu’s cold voice cut through the chaos once more.

Kiyoaki remained silent, unable to reply.

"You’re going to abandon your comrades and civilians just to preserve your image as a ‘good person’?"

His entire body trembled.

"You don’t want to be a villain who kills your former comrades, is that it?"

As Ryu spoke, he continued to down Beo-Eagles one after another, showcasing the overwhelming power of the Ikaruga.

"We’ve received word: the enemy bombers are heading toward Misato from a separate route!"

Commander Maolong’s voice rang out.

"They’re taking a detour to enter Misato. Ignore the fighters! Target the bombers!"

"But we can’t see them!"

While they had been engaged with the fighter planes, the enemy bomber squad had slipped through Kusanagi’s defences, using the cover of night. But with no visibility, it was impossible to pursue them.

From his higher vantage point, Kiyoaki spotted a faint glint reflecting the moonlight to the southwest. Narrowing his eyes, he could just make out the exhaust flames from four engines.

"Sakagami, visual confirmation. The enemy bombers are heading southwest. I’m in pursuit."

After a moment of silence, Commander Maolong responded.

"All units, break off from the current engagement and head toward Misato. Pursue the bombers and launch repeated attacks as you catch up."

As the squadron leaders confirmed the order, everyone turned their wings and left the battlefield, heading into the darkness toward Misato. The Voltec Squadron didn’t give chase, calmly regrouping and continuing toward their own objective.

The initial skirmish had ended in a mere exchange of blows.

The real battle would be fought over the skies of Misato.

–If it’s bombers, I can shoot them down…

With that thought, Kiyoaki fixed his gaze on the enemy bombers' exhaust flames, following them through the darkness.

The enemy bombers were flying at a considerable altitude, making it difficult even for the Ikaruga to catch up. The plan had been to repeatedly attack them along the way, but at this rate, they wouldn’t even be able to get close.

"That’s not the Seal Sailor. Those are new bombers. At that altitude and speed, they’re something else." "Yeah, I think they’re the Teodora. Big, fast, and heavily armoured. They’re tough." "At over 7,000 meters, our Murasames are choking. We can’t catch up." "Even if they drop bombs from 8,000 meters, they won’t hit anything. They’ll have to lower altitude to bomb. Let’s keep following for now."

Listening to his comrades’ exchange over the radio, Kiyoaki silently stared into the night.

Images of Illia flashed through his mind, accompanied by the pale blue glow of the bombers’ exhaust flames.

Noble, vulnerable, and lonely Illia.

–There’s no way I can shoot Illia.

But still...

──"If it's a bomber, I can shoot it down..."

The answer remained unchanged, only passive thoughts came to mind. It was impossible for me to shoot down the Voltec Air Squadron. But if it was a bomber whose pilot I didn't know, I could dispose of it as nothing more than a machine...

Kiyoaki continued chasing the exhaust flames that eluded him, repeating his endless self-questioning.

"Enemy heavy bomber descending in altitude. It's near Misato. As expected, it's a low-altitude bombing."

Captain Maolong's voice brought him back to reality.

The night had deepened, but the moon was still shining brightly, illuminating the sea.

Looking up, he saw as the captain had said: a cluster of exhaust flames was dropping lower. They were descending in preparation for their destination. Bombs dropped from high altitude would scatter widely due to wind and inertia, reducing their effectiveness. For precision destruction of the target, low-altitude bombing was more effective.

"Ignore the fighter escorts. Aim only for the Teodora."

The captain's voice was tense. The silhouette of the heavy bombers was easily visible under the moonlight.

"Misato has enforced blackout control. The anti-aircraft guns at Misato won’t return fire. But the searchlight team should illuminate the lead aircraft. We'll fight within the searchlight's range, don’t chase retreating enemies too far."

The team responded in unison. The reason the ground anti-aircraft guns wouldn't fire was to avoid accidentally shooting down the Kusanagi Air Corps along with the enemy. The fate of 1.4 million Misato citizens was now entrusted to the twenty or so Kusanagi Air Corps pilots.

Among them, the two Ikaruga aircraft held the key. With their 37mm cannons and turboprop engines, only the Ikaruga could catch up to the heavy bombers and take them down in one hit.

They would soon enter the searchlight's range. The 2,400 searchlights set up for Misato’s defence awaited the enemy aircraft. These searchlights would soon pierce the night, supporting the Kusanagi Air Corps.

"We have no choice. Sacrifice your life. Use any means necessary to protect the civilians!"

As Captain Maolong's words ended, three blinding beams of light suddenly shot from the ground toward the starry sky.

The three-pronged beams immediately connected the night sky with a radiant point.

Illuminated by the beams was the massive form of the four-engine heavy bomber Teodora, glowing brightly. As the bomber advanced, precise beams continued to focus on the underbelly of the giant craft.

The vivid intersecting lights spoke volumes about the relentless training the searchlight team had undergone. In order to honour their efforts, the Kusanagi Air Corps had to risk their lives and shoot down the bombers.

──Let’s go.

Kiyoaki solidified his resolve and opened the throttle toward the illuminated Teodora.

"That thing's huge, what the hell is it!?" "It's got a lot of gun turrets too, be careful!"

Despite the astonishment of the team, the Teodora advanced toward Misato's city, unaffected by the illumination. Its underbelly opened with a sinister silver gleam.

It was about to unload its cargo on Misato.

──I won't let it.

The Ikaruga accelerated, and the Teodora grew rapidly in the gunsight.

In an instant, orange tracer rounds spewed from the bomber's gun turrets.

"Tch."

The night before him vanished as a torrent of tracer rounds from the rear and upper wings attacked. Judging by the size of the tracers, they seemed to be 20mm machine gun rounds. One hit, and his plane would be blown apart. It was a dangerous anti-aircraft barrage.

He regretted positioning himself directly behind and above, where the barrage was thickest, but there was no choice but to continue chasing.

Kiyoaki locked his sights on the bomber and chased it without hesitation.

Just as the wings of the bomber spread beyond the gunsight, he pulled the trigger on the 37mm cannon.

A thunderous roar filled the cockpit, as if a lightning strike had hit directly.

The armour-piercing shell, like a blow from the thunder god, tore through the base of the Teodora’s wing.

With a loud noise, the 20-meter-long wing snapped. Even Kiyoaki, who had fired, was astonished; the crew aboard the bomber likely had no idea what had happened. The Teodora, packed with bombs in its belly, began to fall helplessly.

Kiyoaki bit his lip and climbed, looking back.

The relentless training had paid off in the form of a successful kill, and the searchlight team, likely cheering in joy, immediately shifted their beams to the second aircraft.

But behind it, over 40 more Teodora bombers followed.

──We can't stop them all.

The enemy had overwhelming numbers. The Kusanagi Air Corps attacked the next illuminated Teodora, but no matter how many 20mm rounds they poured in, the bombers kept flying undeterred. It had to be the 37mm cannon to bring them down.

"Where’s Ryu!?" "He's still fighting the Beo-Strike behind us! He hasn't even gotten here yet!"

It seemed Ryu had engaged Leo or Illia instead of the Teodora.

"Kiyoaki, we’re counting on you, your cannon is our only hope!"

Kagura's desperate plea pierced his soul.

"Roger! Providing cover!"

He responded over the radio. It was fortunate that the enemy was a bomber. Kiyoaki turned his nose toward the second illuminated bomber and began a steep dive.

In an instant.

"!?".

Three Beo-Eagles swooped in from the side to block Kiyoaki's path.

The bomber's fighter escorts──Voltec Air Squadron’ fighters.

His mind burned.

The faces of his former comrades, and the faces of his current comrades, weighed on the scales.

There was no time to hesitate.

"The fighter escorts...!"

He shouted that alone and ignored the Beo-Eagles, plunging straight toward the heavy bomber.

He charged through the torrent of tracers again, racing toward the massive upper fuselage, and fired the 37mm cannon.

The shell hit the cockpit.

The enormous 30-meter-long and 40-meter-wide bomber, with flames erupting from its cockpit, tilted and began to fall. Everyone in the cockpit was likely killed instantly.

──Become iron. Turn to steel.

Kiyoaki urged himself as he pulled up the aircraft.

The enemy fighters, seeking revenge, pursued him relentlessly. After downing two heavy bombers in quick succession, there was no way the escorts would leave the new ace alone.

The pilots chasing him could be Lulu or Lala. Maybe Mcguire. Or could it be Leon? His mind wouldn't stop racing.

──Become iron. Become a particle of steel...!

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and tried to shake off the pursuing escorts.

Then, two shadows suddenly split in from the left and right, shielding him with their own planes. He didn’t need to turn to know who they were.

"I'll protect you, Lieutenant Kiyoaki! Take down the bombers! Use us as your shield!"

The voices of Dambazolik and Rensuke shook through the speakers. A warmth spread in his chest. He wanted to repay their loyalty.

"The decoys have returned. The real fight begins now. Show the pride of the Kusanagi Air Corps!!"

Captain Maolong's rallying cry resounded. It seemed the air superiority fighters they had fought earlier had arrived over Misato.

──Illia is in this sky right now...!!

As Kiyoaki sensed this, he kept trying to shake off the fighters.

──Focus on the bombers...!!

He couldn’t shoot down Illia. But as a member of the Kusanagi Air Corps, he absolutely couldn’t let the heavy bombers go. Judging by their size, each one likely carried more than five tons of bombs. Every bomber shot down would reduce the damage by five tons of explosives.

The searchlight team, working in desperate unison, crossed three beams of light and illuminated a third target. Kiyoaki accelerated toward the focal point. Beo-Eagles, the enemy’s fighter escorts, converged on him from both sides, trying to intercept.

With a groan, Kiyoaki ascended. The Teodora’s altitude was 2,000 meters. He was aiming for the bomber's underbelly. The Beo-Eagles fired machine gun rounds from both sides, but Dambazolik and Rensuke shielded him with their own bodies, fending off the attacks whenever they found an opening.

"Kiyoaki, we’ll cover you!!"

Kagura also joined the battle to protect Kiyoaki. Her determination was unwavering, and she shielded Kiyoaki by offering herself, relentlessly firing machine gun rounds at the approaching enemy aircraft.

It was as if Kagura was showing her resolve to Kiyoaki, urging him on.

She was fulfilling the promise she had made to Captain Leo, right here on the battlefield.

Kiyoaki felt tears of frustration well up, but he forced his eyes open wide, focusing only on the Teodora floating in the night.

"Go, Sakagami, ignore the fighters!! Take them all down with that cannon, you can do it!!"

Kusanagi Air Corps’ comrades shouted their encouragement, risking aerial collisions to break into the enemy’s flight path and help Kiyoaki ascend.

He could feel the unity of the Kusanagi Air Corps.

On the ground, he had been afraid to get close to anyone, fearing attachment, but here in the battlefield skies, just flying together made their feelings clear.

──Everyone wants to protect Misato...!

Kagura, Captain Maolong, Dambazolik, Rensuke, and Ryu. None of them wanted to see the city’s people burned alive.

──If these wings can protect them...!

Ascending, Kiyoaki locked the Teodora’s underbelly in his gunsight.

Just as the bomb bay doors opened and a swarm of 250-kilogram bombs were about to be dropped on Misato, he thought about the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of citizens who would lose their homes and lives if five tons of bombs were dropped on the residential area.

"I won’t let you."

He pulled the trigger on the cannon.

The massive blast from the Ikaruga shook the plane.

He veered left immediately after firing.

The direct hit on the bomb bay reduced the enemy aircraft to countless fragments of metal, and it blossomed into a massive flower of flames.

Shouts of joy from his comrades echoed through the speaker. Having shot down three heavy bombers in rapid succession, morale soared, and the enemy Voltec Air Squadron became even more bloodthirsty, chasing the Ikaruga relentlessly.

Meanwhile, the searchlight team, operating 2,400 searchlights, illuminated the fourth, fifth, and sixth targets with their beams.

There was no time to rest, but the job had to be done.

"I’ll take out the lead!!"

Shouting at the radio as he focused on the lead Teodora in the formation illuminated by the searchlights, Kiyoaki pushed his engine to climb to 3,500 meters and turned his wings toward the fourth target──

An invisible lightning bolt shot through his mind.

"!?"

His intuition as a pilot warned him of a danger descending from above.

"Kiyoaki, above you!!"

Kagura's scream hit his ears, and he immediately turned to look behind him.

A blue full moon was split apart by the fangs of a white wolf descending in an inverted dive.

The shadow of a W-shaped aircraft—Beo-Strike.

"Illia!!"

In the instant Kiyoaki shouted, the four 20mm machine guns mounted on the white wolf's wings fired directly at him.

"Stop, it's me!!"

Despite knowing his voice wouldn’t reach, Kiyoaki shouted while rolling as he dove.

Tracer rounds sliced through the air, narrowly missing him as the Beo-Strike, bearing the emblem of a white wolf on its nose, relentlessly pursued him.

──They haven't noticed it's me. They must think I'm Ryu.

──If I target the bomber, Illia will keep shooting at me...!!

His thoughts burned away.

There was no time to hesitate. Kiyoaki simply followed his instincts.

"Lieutenant!!"

By the time Dambazolik’s shout reached him, Kiyoaki had already given up on approaching the bomber, turning to escape the combat zone.

"Lieutenant, please take down the bomber! We’ll cover you!!"

Even Rensuke’s desperate plea didn’t reach Kiyoaki’s ears.

"What are you doing, Kiyoaki!? Leave the fighters to me!!"

Kagura’s voice didn’t reach him either. Kiyoaki, trying to shake off Illia’s pursuit, attempted to vanish into the night. In night combat, even with decent visibility, the horizontal range was about 1,000 meters. If he suddenly dove and changed course, he could disappear from the enemy’s sight.

Kiyoaki dove to an altitude of 200 meters, skimming the ground before looking back. Illia wasn't following. He sighed in brief relief, but the cost was great.

"The city...!! Damn it, no!! Don’t let them continue, take down the next wave!!"

The frantic cries of his comrades echoed one after another.

Flames were rising from the city of Misato. The once dark ground, covered in rooftops and wooden houses, was now illuminated by the orange glow of flames.

Off in the distance, the Teodora, the bomber Kiyoaki was supposed to have taken down, continued to release its deadly cargo under the beams of the searchlights. The black malice raining down was setting fire to and destroying the homes of innocent civilians, chasing them as they fled.

"Damn it, incendiary bombs. They know our houses are made of wood and paper...!!"

As Captain Maolong had said, delicate incendiary bombs rained down on the city, detonating at a set altitude and releasing over seventy incendiary shells, igniting the wooden structures.

I have to stop the Teodora...!!

Kiyoaki, exhausted, turned his gaze toward the heavy bombers that continued to flood the sky. The searchlight team was doing their best to support the Kusanagi Air Corps, drawing lines of light across the night, but the Teodora bombers, confident in their bulletproof armour, were undeterred as they dropped their bombs with precision from low altitude.

Only I can stop them...!!

Determined, Kiyoaki charged toward the focal point of the lights.

Please, Illia, don’t get in my way...!!

He prayed, but the Voltec Air Squadron wasn’t incompetent enough to leave a mysterious new aircraft, responsible for heavy casualties, unchecked.

Flying toward the beams of light would only attract more enemy aircraft.

He would have to face his former comrades in battle.

If he fled, more civilians would burn. Just like on Messus Island, like his parents and sister. It was to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again that he flew with these wings.

Fight. Fight. Fight...!!

He urged himself on, even though he was terrified and felt like running away. Ahead, the target, the Teodora bomber, swelled in his gunsight.

The moment the enemy aircraft was locked in his sight.

A W-shaped aircraft suddenly appeared from behind the heavy bomber and charged toward Kiyoaki.

They had known the bomber would be targeted and were lying in wait.

He could tell by the aircraft’s elegant and swift movements exactly who the pilot was.

"Stop, Illia!!"

With a scream, Kiyoaki pushed the control stick forward and kicked the foot pedals.

No matter how much he urged himself on, there was no way he could face her directly. He had no choice but to run. The beams of light from the searchlights disappeared from his view, replaced by the sight of the burning city.

"What are you doing, Sakagami!?" "Fight, Lieutenant!!"

His comrades’ desperate screams poured in through the radio. Kiyoaki felt torn apart. His thoughts were in turmoil. He was losing his sense of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha..."

Breathing heavily like an animal, Kiyoaki tried to clear his confused thoughts and focus on doing the best he could in the situation.

Calm down. Show Illia the black rabbit nose art.

If Illia sees it, she won’t target me...!

Opening the throttle, Kiyoaki vanished into the darkness. He circled low to the ground, trying to find Illia.

The city was already engulfed in flames from the bombing.

The Teodora was trying to form a wall of fire around the city, cutting off any escape for the civilians.

Taking down a heavy bomber with a Murasame was difficult, and the efforts of the searchlight team were in vain. The bombers opened their bays, releasing one-ton bombs, 500-kilogram bombs, 250-kilogram bombs, and incendiary bombs. They seemed to be testing which bombs were the most effective, and a variety of explosions bloomed on the ground, spreading the fires through the residential areas.

The night sky turned crimson. The 1.4 million citizens were being trapped in a cruel inferno.

Kiyoaki painfully understood what he had to do.

But his body wouldn’t obey.

Chasing after Illia, locking her in his gunsight, his finger wouldn’t pull the trigger of the 37mm cannon.

Damn it, one more time...!!

Kiyoaki charged toward another bomber.

Locking onto the target illuminated by the beams of light, he remained vigilant, sharpening his senses to detect any movement in the surrounding airspace.

The W-shaped aircraft would surely appear. Illia was hiding in the darkness, waiting to protect the bomber.

The next moment, just as he had predicted, the white wolf tore through the night and lunged at him, claws raised.

"Illia!!"

He narrowly dodged the hail of tracers with a sudden dive. Illia lost sight of him and sped into the night.

Kiyoaki pulled up just above the ground and looked back up at the sky.

Fortunately, the moon was behind Illia. From Kiyoaki’s position, the sleek silhouette of the Beo-Strike was visible, framed against the blue moon.

Without hesitation, he accelerated and approached Illia from below.

He could see her, but she couldn’t see him.

This was a perfect chance to shoot her down, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But he couldn't bring himself to fire.

Kiyoaki gained enough airspeed and then began to climb.

He approached from beneath Illia's right wing, aiming to slip past her and show the black rabbit emblem as he passed.

With a prayer as if coughing up blood, he sent his thoughts to the sky.

──I can’t fight you.

──Please, take your comrades and go home.

At the same time, he thrust the nose of his plane from beneath her right wing, showing his nose art near Illia’s cockpit, and began to ascend, aiming to leave the combat zone.

Illia rolled to evade and then pursued him.

Without any hesitation, Illia clung to the tail of the Ikaruga as it ascended.

──It’s me. I can’t fight you.

He engraved the prayer into the sky, even though he knew it would never reach her.

• What are you doing? Fight.*

He could almost hear a phantom voice. Perhaps Illia, in the cockpit of the Beo-Strike, was calling out to him with those words.

Kiyoaki shook his head from side to side.

There’s no way I could shoot you.

Why must I kill someone so important with my own hands?

What reason could justify such an absurdity?

• That’s so like you.*

• But you should know as well.*

• You and I have a reason to fight.*

• We are enemies.*

In the phantom voice of Illia, there was a hint of tears. Her words were cold and harsh, yet it was clear that Illia was crying as she spoke.

The overwhelming affection he felt tore Kiyoaki's heart to pieces, scattering it into countless particles along his flight path.

All Kiyoaki could do was run.

Illia drew closer, entering a range where her shots would be inevitable.

• Please, fight me.*

Crying, Illia seemed to be begging him like that.

• You promised, didn’t you?*

At their parting in Odin, Kiyoaki had promised Illia that if they met again on the battlefield, they would fight honourably.

But he never thought that day would actually come.

• Because I’m proud of the days we spent honing our skills together.*

• Because I want to be recognized by you as a rival.*

• Because I cherish our promise more than anything.*

Illia’s heart-wrenching prayer seeped into Kiyoaki’s soul through the sky.

──Illia will shoot me.

He was sure of it.

──That’s fine.

──If I die by Illia’s hand... that’s fine.

Kiyoaki gave up on surviving.

It seemed like the least painful choice.

As Illia sped up, Kiyoaki continued his slow ascent, almost as if waiting for her, without increasing the throttle.

The closer Illia got, the more Kiyoaki felt the pain she was carrying.

Crying, yet still relentlessly chasing him, just to fulfill the promise they had made.

──How dear you are...

Such sentimental thoughts, out of place on the battlefield, inexplicably passed through his mind.

──I love you, Illia.

The Beo-Strike climbed rapidly through the night at full throttle. Soon, the four 20mm machine guns jutting from its wings would rip his life away.

──I wanted to walk with you again, like on that sandy beach.

They say your life flashes before your eyes at its end, and perhaps this was that moment.

──I wanted to hold you again.

He remembered embracing Illia on the deck of the carrier that night, her face wet with tears.

Now, it was perfectly clear.

──Illia, I think I’m in love with you.

The roar of the Beo-Strike vibrated through Kiyoaki’s back.

Soon, he would be within range. The 20mm machine gun rounds fired by Illia would rip apart both his body and the Ikaruga, turning him into mere fragments raining down over Misato.

• Let’s fulfill our promise.*

Illia’s soul seemed to scream this, wailing in sorrow.

Kiyoaki closed his eyes, waiting for his life to be blown to dust, when suddenly──

From below, the sound of propellers surged upward.

"!? "

Kiyoaki opened his eyes and looked down.

Murasame.

A single plane.

Overboosting.

"Lieutenant!!"

Rensuke’s voice echoed through the radio.

Kiyoaki’s hair stood on end.

──He’s going to shield me.

"Stop, Rensuke!!"

At the very moment Kiyoaki shouted, Rensuke slipped his body between Illia and Kiyoaki.

"Rensuke!!"

The scream that burst from the depths of Kiyoaki’s soul was swallowed by the blossoming fireball.

Kiyoaki snapped back to reality and opened the throttle. As he weaved his aircraft left and right, diving sharply, he glanced back.

Rensuke had turned into metal fragments, scattered into the night. The moonlight glittered on the particles that were once Rensuke, decorating them.

"A... a... a..."

Kiyoaki was speechless. His thoughts stopped.

"Rensuke, Rensuke──!!"

The distant voice of Dambazolik calling out his friend's name rang in his ears.

Kiyoaki felt a lump of emotion lodged in his throat, unable to speak.

──Rensuke is dead.

──He died in my place...

He could only replay the reality of what had just happened. A wave of nausea surged within him. His chaotic thoughts made the scene of the battle before him fade into the distance.

"Anti-aircraft fire is preparing. We're no longer needed. Let’s retreat before we get caught up in it."

Captain Maolong's voice came over the radio. It seemed that the command had grown frustrated with the Kusanagi Air Corps' lack of results and had decided to take on the heavy bombers with anti-aircraft guns.

On the other hand, the Teodora squadron had finished their bombing and was preparing to return. The Kusanagi pilots clung desperately to their tails, but no matter how much they fired, it was futile.

"Don’t chase them. It’s useless. We can’t take them down with Murasame..."

Captain Maolong's voice of resignation sounded distant to Kiyoaki.

Still in a daze, he watched as the Voltec Air Squadron returned triumphantly. No doubt, once they reached their base, they would celebrate with fine wine, laughing at Kiyoaki’s pitiful failure and rejoicing in their successful bombing campaign, partying into the night...

Kiyoaki’s thoughts froze on one point.

Illia had shot down Rensuke.

Rensuke, who fought to support his impoverished family, who struggled to save his many younger siblings from malnutrition, had died in Kiyoaki’s place, killed by Illia.

That fact alone dug deep into the core of his soul.

The ground anti-aircraft guns finally began to fire. Although powerful, their accuracy was so poor that they couldn’t even lock onto the illuminated targets. The enemy, mocking Misato’s air defences, flew in low-altitude circles as if flaunting their dominance, heading toward the Karanakuta stronghold.

All that remained was the burning city of Misato.

The chaos among the evacuees, pushing and shoving in confusion, didn’t subside even when morning came...

“The emblem on that sleek new plane, it was the black rabbit, wasn’t it? It must have been Sakagami,” said Captain Leo’s voice over the radio, cutting through the dark expanse of the ocean as Illia focused only on the lead plane’s navigation lights.

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, trying to make sure her crying wasn’t noticed, and steadied her breathing before replying.

“There seemed to be two new planes. I’m not sure about the white tiger, but the black rabbit was definitely Sakagami.”

The Voltec Air Squadron had completed their mission to cover the bombers and were now returning to the Karanakuta Fortress. The stars and the moon painted the ocean in shades of blue, making even the ripples of the waves visible.

After a brief silence, Leo muttered.

“Well shot.”

It seemed he had been watching the whole time.

“…We made a promise,” she responded, her voice briefly faltering before she managed to maintain her composure.

“It seems that Sakagami’s wingman shielded him. He must be well-liked by his comrades. Otherwise, no one would have done that.”

“…Yes. He’s protected by brave comrades,” Illia said, her chest burning with emotion. Sensing her feelings, Leo didn’t say anything further.

Illia wiped the tears from under her eyes again and looked up at the stars.

At first, in the initial encounter, she had assumed it was the white tiger. But later, when she saw the black rabbit nose art, she finally realized it was Kiyoaki.

As she tailed him, for some reason her chest was filled with sorrow, and tears started to overflow.

Memories of their time together at the Air Hunt Officer Academy, and fighting as members of the same Voltec Air Squadron on Mauregan Island, flooded her mind, as if covering the tail propeller of Kiyoaki’s new fighter.

Kiyoaki didn’t show any intention of evading. He just flew straight ahead, slowly, as if he wanted Illia to shoot him down.

From the depths of her overwhelming sadness, Illia heard a phantom voice.

Even though it was impossible for enemies in separate cockpits to communicate, it felt as if the sky and their hearts were blending together, and Kiyoaki’s emotions flowed directly into her.

• I think I’m in love with you.*

That impossibly sweet voice, so out of place on a battlefield, echoed within Illia.

There was a moment of hesitation. In that brief pause, Kiyoaki’s wingman had swooped in.

To confirm her own resolve, Illia pulled the trigger. She was aware that the bullet wasn’t going to hit Kiyoaki, as she had just barely noticed the approach of his wingman.

When the wingman’s plane exploded, Illia could hear the sound of Kiyoaki’s heart shattering into thousands of pieces.

The confused emotions that flowed directly from Kiyoaki hit Illia, and she could feel his pain so intensely that she groaned, her hand halting on the throttle.

She lost sight of Kiyoaki in the darkness. Unable to pursue him further, she returned to cover the Teodora bombers. Today, Illia had shot down six planes.

──What was that voice?

If it had been a voice born from her imagination, it was far too sweet. However, it felt too vivid to be a hallucination, as if she had truly been talking with Kiyoaki across space.

Inside her chest, a mix of joy, warmth, sorrow, and pain swelled, turning once more into tears.

The tears wetting her cheeks wouldn’t stop.

No one was watching, so Illia decided to let it be.

──I want to see you, Sakagami.

──Not in this sky, but on the ground, without war.

Such a cheap sentiment welled up in her, unstoppable, and Illia gave up on restraining herself. For now, while she was alone, she wanted to indulge in these overly sweet emotions.

──I want to be with you always. I don’t want to be apart from you.

──If only we could fly side by side in the free sky forever...

Illia was surprised and yet also pleased to discover that such simple, girlish feelings still remained inside her. It was a fragment of humanity that Kiyoaki had shown her.

──I’m truly glad I met you.

──But...

Illia’s gaze turned toward the surrounding darkness. Her comrades, flying with their wings side by side, chatting idly over the radio, were there with her.

──I fight for these comrades.

Her tear-soaked eyes turned to her comrades in the Voltec Air Squadron. They were her precious family, people she could not and did not want to lose.

The wings of her Beo-Strike existed to protect that family.

──If I meet you again in this sky...

──I will shoot you down.

──Because that is my fate.

──No matter how cruel the destiny, I don’t want to run from it.

Illia repeated that sad resolve to herself over and over again.

──I will continue filling the empty pages of my father’s scrapbook.

Even if it meant those pages would contain an article about Kiyoaki being shot down.

──Because surely, “The King of the Sky” is waiting at the end of this path...

From a young age, she had run down this path for that single purpose.

She couldn’t stop now. No matter what obstacles stood in her way, she would overcome them head-on. Wiping her tears again and again, Illia forced her determination deep into her heart.

From the starry sky, as if to console her, thousands of stars fell, colouring the wings of her Beo-Strike in a dreamlike hue. Enduring the pain, the sorrow, and the suffering, Illia gripped the control stick, her gaze fixed on the distant throne in the night sky...

Part 23 (Part 9 of Volume 6)

His collar was grabbed, and spit splattered on his face.

Kiyoaki had no strength left. He could only turn his face away from Ryu.

Ryu didn’t bother hiding his rage.

"Because of you, our comrades are dead."

"……………………"

"Because of you, hundreds of thousands of civilians had their homes burned and their families killed."

Ryu’s fist dug into Kiyoaki’s left cheek. Kiyoaki staggered but didn’t fall. His gaze remained fixed downward, avoiding Ryu’s eyes.

Ryu’s fury was visible, with a thick vein bulging at his temple.

"You care more about that woman than the comrades of the Kusanagi Air Corps or the citizens of Misato, don’t you?"

His clenched left fist struck Kiyoaki’s chin. Kiyoaki silently endured Ryu’s blows.

"Get off the Ikaruga. You riding it is like putting pearls before swine. Let Captain Maolong or Kagura take your place. I don’t want to see any more comrades die because of you."

Ryu’s fist slammed into Kiyoaki’s gut, finally forcing him to his knees, his forehead pressed against the ground.

The night lights of Misato’s First Airfield illuminated the two men. A dozen or so members of the Kusanagi Air Corps had noticed Ryu and Kiyoaki after they disembarked from the Ikaruga, but none stepped in to stop them.

Ryu was voicing what everyone else felt. Among the silent, cold-eyed spectators was Dambazolik, watching the scene unfold.

"Just die, you coward."

Ryu kicked Kiyoaki’s face. Blood sprayed from Kiyoaki’s mouth as he collapsed onto the ground, unmoving. Ryu looked down at him with contempt before finally turning toward the officers’ quarters.

Most of the lower-ranking soldiers passed by Kiyoaki, lying on the ground like a rag, without saying a word. But Captain Maolong stopped and looked down at him.

"...I wish I could take your place, but it takes time to get used to the Ikaruga. Right now, only you and Ryu can handle it."

Kiyoaki lay with his cheek pressed to the ground, listening silently to Maolong's words.

"...Only you can protect the skies over Misato... Set aside your personal feelings. Become a machine. Do it for the people living in this city."

Kiyoaki opened one eye slightly and looked up at Maolong with his face still on the ground.

"Tomorrow, I’ll give you the day off. Kagura said she wants to go out with you. Talk to her. She shot down one of her former comrades."

With that, Maolong turned and left.

Even after everyone was gone, Kiyoaki remained lying there alone.

He lay on his back, his swollen, bloodied face gazing up at the starry sky.

If I could just die here, how much easier that would be.

That thought came from the deepest part of his heart.

"Kiyoaki."

At that moment, his right hand, which had been thrown onto the ground, touched a cold, soft hand.

Kagura had knelt beside Kiyoaki, looking into his face.

"Let’s meet tomorrow morning at 8, in front of the officers' quarters."

Her cold but comforting hand pressed against Kiyoaki’s forehead.

Kagura smiled slightly.

"You look terrible. That pretty face of yours is ruined."

She wiped the blood from Kiyoaki’s mouth with a handkerchief dampened with water.

"I’ll leave you the handkerchief. Be sure to come tomorrow. See you then."

After placing the handkerchief in Kiyoaki’s hand, Kagura stood up and walked away.

Kiyoaki just kept staring at the stars.

Illia’s smile flashed across the starry sky.

That tender smile was replaced by Rensuke’s face.

Rensuke, the wingman who admired him, the little puppy who always followed him, had died in Kiyoaki’s place after he refused to fight.

With a dead expression, Kiyoaki continued to stare at the stars. The colours of blue, yellow, orange, and purple flowed across the river of the night sky. The countless stars cast their silent, gentle light upon him.

Kiyoaki remained still, letting the stardust fall upon him. The blue moon deepened the silence, and in this soundless world, Kiyoaki’s heart had completely frozen over.

In the morning light, Kagura sat on a familiar 125cc military motorcycle, waiting for Kiyoaki.

When Kiyoaki appeared, dragging his feet, Kagura, still sitting on the seat, waved at him.

"Commander Ogiya lent this to me. Let’s ride into the city together. I want to see the damage."

Upon hearing the destination, Kiyoaki stopped in his tracks.

"Are you afraid?"

"……………………"

"I’m not blaming you. You couldn’t have stopped last night’s bombing alone. In fact, you shot down three Teodoras by yourself—you should be proud of that. Ryu may have said what he did, but he was preoccupied with the Beo-Strike and didn’t take down a single bomber. It’s unfair to pin the entire damage to Misato on you. Come on. I want us to reassess what we need to do together."

Kagura got off the bike and approached Kiyoaki, taking his hands in hers and looking at him sincerely.

"For my own sake too. I’m still uncertain as well."

From the warmth of her hands, Kiyoaki could feel Kagura’s feelings. He could tell from her expression that pulling the trigger on the Voltec Air Squadron hadn’t been easy for her.

Kagura had done something Kiyoaki couldn’t bring himself to do. She had confronted the Voltec Air Squadron's chivalry with her own warrior’s code. No doubt, Captain Leo would be proud of her.

There was something Kiyoaki could learn from Kagura.

He lowered his gaze and nodded. Without a word, he sat on the back seat and entrusted the bike to her.

"We’ll have to walk part of the way."

With a deliberately cheerful tone, Kagura started the bike’s soft engine and began the ride toward the bombed city. The clear, crisp air of the bright morning seemed to wipe away the memory of the bombing, and from beyond the gentle hills, the brass-coloured December sun cast its light.

As they neared Misato, the peaceful scenery of the plains gradually disappeared, giving way to a different scene. A large number of refugees, carrying heavy loads, walked toward Kagura and Kiyoaki from the opposite direction. Most of them had soot-covered faces, were exhausted, and dragged their feet as they fled the city.

Despite Kagura and Kiyoaki being in their Kusanagi Air Corps uniforms, the people showed little reaction. In the past, they might have waved or offered words of encouragement, and children might have cheered, but now they merely glanced at the two moving against the flow and quickly turned their gaze back to the road ahead.

They entered the heart of Misato, where the shopping district was centred around a department store. This area, being largely concrete, had suffered less damage, though some buildings showed signs of direct bomb hits, with their roofs collapsed and steel beams protruding from the remains of shops. A few groups of people were sifting through the rubble, calling out the names of those who had gone missing.

As they continued, the number of collapsed buildings increased, and the sky ahead was hazy with smoke from the fires. The victims were flowing out of the area toward the suburbs.

"Up ahead is the residential area that took the brunt of the bombing. …Can you manage?"

"…Yes," Kiyoaki answered weakly, and Kagura turned the handlebars toward the lower town.

As they left the shopping district, the road narrowed, and concrete buildings gave way to more wooden structures. They passed a large hospital, where so many injured people overflowed into the street that the building could not contain them all.

People with burns, lacerations from the blast, and crushed limbs from falling debris filled the streets. From children to the elderly, their groans and cries of pain echoed, a constant background noise. The medics, though clearly short on supplies, were tending to the wounded with great care, applying what little ointment they had to the burns.

The further they went, the more Kiyoaki’s heart ached. Kagura remained silent, gripping the handlebars as they moved forward. The rubble began to pile up, and soon it became impossible to continue on the bike.

"We’ll stop here. Let’s walk."

They parked the bike in an inconspicuous alley, and Kagura and Kiyoaki continued on foot, moving against the flow of the fleeing people. The faces of the passersby were covered in soot, with only their eyes visible, and they wore the clothes they had on when they fled. Occasionally, a man would glare at Kiyoaki, realizing he was part of the Kusanagi Air Corps, his eyes filled with resentment. The emotions those men harboured were clear without needing to ask.

As they walked, the view ahead opened up.

The wooden buildings that had lined both sides of the street the previous night were now mostly burnt down, with charred beams reaching toward the sky, still smouldering in places. Women wearing protective headscarves and work clothes were drawing water from fire reservoirs with buckets, pouring it onto the remaining embers in a futile effort to extinguish the last flames.

Corpses lined the sides of the road. Without even a mat to cover them, their bodies were exposed to the morning sun, charred black. Many of them had suffered burns from being caught in the firestorm. A child sat in front of their unresponsive mother, unable to cry, staring blankly.

"…"

Kiyoaki recalled his family being killed on Messus Island. He remembered standing before the bodies of his parents and sister, unsure of what to do, wishing only to die alongside them.

"Is this… bone?"

Kagura muttered in a pained voice. On one side of the road, there was a mound of ash-white debris. At first glance, it seemed to be rubble, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a pile of bones. Some skulls were small, likely belonging to young children.

Someone had likely gathered them as a gesture of respect. Kagura and Kiyoaki clasped their hands in prayer, then continued their painful walk.

The devastation caused by the incendiary bombs was beyond imagination. The tens of thousands of incendiary bombs dropped by the Teodora had split into 72 phosphorus-filled canisters at a certain altitude, igniting upon contact with the air. These fiery needles pierced the ground, setting everything—whether buildings or people—ablaze. For houses made of wood and paper, like those in the Akitsu Federation, it was the most destructive type of bomb imaginable.

A burnt arm, reaching toward the sky from the rubble. The carbonized remains of a mother, still carrying her child on her back. Charred corpses lying in circles, likely suffocated by toxic smoke. Their clothing had burned away, and their bodies were so blackened that they were indistinguishable from pieces of charcoal. Some limbs were caught on power lines, flung there by the blast.

In a nearby schoolyard, people with severe burns lay on the ground, moaning in pain. Small children, their bodies swollen like red balloons, whimpered in agony as their mothers, motionless, held their hands.

Kiyoaki’s heart could only groan in response to the horror.

More people had died from the fires caused by the bombing than from the bombing itself. Trapped by walls of flame, unable to escape, young and old alike had been burned alive, reduced to bone. Why was this level of devastation necessary against unarmed civilians?

Kiyoaki, who had studied military tactics at St Vault, knew the answer to his own question.

──Because it’s war…

The St Vault military had employed this ruthless strategy of bombing with the goal of breaking the will of the Akitsu people, to crush their morale and deliver a psychological blow to their leadership. From a strategic standpoint, it made sense. But from a humanitarian perspective, it was nothing short of demonic. Kiyoaki couldn’t bear to think that the kind, good-natured people of the Voltec Air Squadron had been complicit in this massacre.

But this was the inescapable reality.

St Vault was the enemy. If they didn’t fight back, St Vault would unleash even more slaughter. What kind of soldier of the Akitsu Federation could stand by and allow such a massacre to continue?

The overwhelming tragedy of the victims kicked Kiyoaki’s worn-out heart into action.

He wanted to do something, anything, but all he could do was burn the sight of these victims into his memory, vowing never to forget. Staring at the aftermath of the air raid was the only thing he could do right now.

At that moment, a strong stench wafted over on the wind.

He was used to the smell of death, but this was particularly intense.

A bridge stood ahead, crossing a river that ran through the residential area. After exchanging uneasy glances, Kagura and Kiyoaki nodded and made their way toward the bridge.

The scene below the bridge was horrific.

"………………!!"

"…This is terrible…"

The river, about 50 meters wide, was filled with thousands of bloated, charred bodies floating on the surface. Scattered pieces of burning debris punctuated the river, surrounded by the red-black remains. Elderly, women, children—no distinction was made as they floated downstream, burned beyond recognition. Likely, they had fled the fires and reached the river, only to be caught by the flames and toxic smoke. Even Kiyoaki and Kagura, accustomed to death, found it hard to look at the hellish scene passing through the centre of the disaster zone.

"How could this… how could anyone do this…?"

Kagura leaned on the railing of the bridge, her hands clasped in prayer as tears welled in her eyes.

"…How could they…?"

Kiyoaki could only mutter the same. It was too cruel, the work of demons.

If soldiers killed soldiers, it was understandable.

But these were civilians, people with no choice in the matter, who had been born into this city, worked to provide for their families, and simply lived their lives. They had no intention of killing the enemy, yet they had met such a terrible fate.

His stomach churned with rage. He couldn’t find the words.

Kiyoaki stared at the pitiful river and joined Kagura in clasping his hands in prayer.

──If I had fought…

──Maybe these people wouldn’t’t have died…

His anger soon turned into deep, bitter self-reproach.

Rensuke had said that his family lived in Misato. Perhaps his selfless sacrifice was not just for Kiyoaki’s sake, but for his family’s. Knowing that Kiyoaki was the only one capable of taking down the heavy bombers, Rensuke may have sacrificed himself so that Kiyoaki could destroy as many bombers as possible.

As Kiyoaki was lost in these thoughts, a boy, about 14 or 15 years old, suddenly stood beside him, saluting.

Wearing a burnt and tattered school uniform with gaiters, his face covered in soot, the boy greeted them nervously.

"Excuse me. From your uniforms, I assume you’re with the Kusanagi Air Corps!"

Kiyoaki nodded in acknowledgment of the boy’s serious expression. The boy, still saluting, straightened up and spoke with all his strength, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I have a request! Please avenge my sister!!"

Squeezing out the words with a strained voice, the boy begged with teary eyes. Kagura and Kiyoaki exchanged glances before Kagura spoke.

"Tell us what happened."

"Yes!! Last night, my sister and I were fleeing the fire, walking along the embankment of this river…"

The boy spoke haltingly, wiping away his tears as he recounted the events of the previous night.

He and his sister had been separated from their family, and as he pulled his 12-year-old sister along the embankment, they were pursued by an enemy fighter. Desperately running for their lives, they were chased by the fighter, which seemed to be toying with them, enjoying the hunt. When his sister could no longer run, a 20mm machine gun round struck her in the back, tearing her small body apart. The fighter then circled her remains once before flying off, leaving the boy to pick up the pieces of his sister’s body and burn them.

Now, with tears and snot running down his face, the boy pleaded with Kiyoaki and Kagura.

"Please shoot down those enemy fighters! Avenge my sister! Kill those demons!!"

The boy’s words were filled with overflowing rage, helplessness, and sorrow. Gathering the remains of his beloved sister must have been an experience beyond words.

Kagura knelt down, took the boy’s saluting right hand, and met his eyes.

"…I understand. I will shoot them down. I will avenge your sister."

The boy’s tears turned into uncontrollable sobbing.

"Thank you! Th-thank you so much…!!"

Kagura turned toward Kiyoaki.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kiyoaki spoke to the boy.

"...My family was also killed by machine-gun fire from enemy planes. I understand, at least a little, how you feel."

He then took the boy’s left hand, knelt down, and met his gaze. The boy standing before him reminded Kiyoaki of his own fourteen-year-old self, weeping on Messus Island, lost in grief.

"...I’ll shoot down the enemy fighters. I won’t let the Voltec Air Squadron continue to have their way in the skies over Misato. For your sister’s sake, I’ll bring them down."

The boy responded only with uncontrollable sobs. After offering words of encouragement and giving the boy some money, Kiyoaki and Kagura parted ways with him and walked along the embankment.

Kagura spoke.

"The non-commissioned pilots of the Voltec Air Squadron are decent people, but they’re rough and adventurous. Some of them likely got swept up in the thrill of the air raids and couldn’t restrain themselves."

Kiyoaki nodded in agreement. During his time in the Voltec Air Squadron, he had occasionally heard such boasts. Many of the lower-ranking soldiers couldn’t even read. Their role was to kill the enemy without hesitation, so there was no expectation of education, ethics, or morality. In fact, those qualities would prevent them from killing. Sadly, that meant there were people who would commit such acts.

Captain Leo had forbidden the shooting of civilians, and kind-hearted people like Lulu and Lala would never do such a thing. However, some members of the Voltec Air Squadron, caught up in the frenzy of battle, lost control and fired on anything that moved.

And such behaviour would likely continue.

In the face of this, what should they do now?

"I’m going to keep the promise I made to that boy," Kagura said, as if steeling herself. Her expression tightened, and she stared at the cruel sight of the river, where so many innocent lives had floated away.

They walked through the disaster zone until early afternoon before returning to the bike for the trip back.

Seated on the rear seat, Kiyoaki spoke to Kagura, who was holding the handlebars.

"...I’ve been acting like a child."

Kagura said nothing, continuing to drive down the road.

"...I really... feel ashamed of myself."

Kiyoaki looked up at the sky.

It was a deep, vivid blue.

He knew now what he had to do.

The answer had already begun to take root within him.

Imperial Calendar Year 1349, December 10, Karanakuta Fortress, First Airfield

4:00 PM.

The next move by the St Vault Navy Air Force, following their successful surprise bombing of Misato, was to eliminate the air power of the forward fortress, Suzaku, which served as Misato’s front defence.

The Voltec Air Squadron, gathering all their strength, was preparing to launch a dusk attack on Suzaku. After inflicting catastrophic damage on the Kusanagi Air Corps that protected the fortress, the plan was to have the Teodora heavy bombers reduce Suzaku to ashes.

“Honestly, air battles need sunlight, right?”

“Totally. It’s boring at night. You can’t see anything.”

As they strolled along the flight line where 90 fighters were warming up, Lulu and Lala exchanged carefree words and then turned to Illia.

“Do you think Kiyoaki will show up?”

Illia nodded stiffly.

“…Yes, I think he will.”

The twins giggled and teased her.

“Lucky you! There’s no way he’ll shoot you, Illia.”

“Kiyoaki? He’s too soft! He’d never shoot you.”

Illia hesitated before turning to the twins.

“…I believe he will shoot this time. That’s the kind of person Sakagami is.”

“Really? I don’t think so,” Lala responded.

“He’s had his nation’s capital burned to the ground… There’s no way he could stay calm after that. To prevent such devastation from happening again, he’ll set aside personal friendship. And…”

Illia stopped herself again. Lulu eyed her curiously.

“And?”

Illia’s gaze sharpened, her resolve clear as she answered.

“We made a promise. He promised to fight me with all his strength. I believe he’ll keep that promise.”

Lulu and Lala smiled at her response.

“You really believe in Kiyoaki, don’t you?”

“Hope you get to fight him.”

“…Yes. We need to settle this. Both of us have been entrusted with aircraft that will determine the outcome of this battle.”

The overwhelming power of the Ikaruga and the Beo-Strike would likely dictate the course of the aerial conflict. If either of them held back, it would result in heavy losses for their side. Illia’s expression grew more serious.

“Not just Sakagami. We also need to be wary of the White Tiger. They’re a dangerous opponent. If you’re targeted, don’t engage head-on, retreat immediately.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to run away.”

“Isn’t the Tiger the one that kept following you around last time? Won’t it just chase you again today?”

“I hope that’s all it does... but their skills are impressive. I couldn’t shoot them down either. Please, be careful.”

As they spoke, they reached the line of fighters. The twins waved and headed toward their Beo-Eagles. Illia looked up at her beloved plane, with its emblem of the white wolf, exchanged words with the maintenance crew, signed the necessary documents, and climbed into the cockpit.

After checking the instruments and adjusting the radio frequency, Leo’s voice came through.

“We’ve been waiting for a daytime strike. We’ll engage the Kusanagi Air Corps head-on. Remember, our strength lies in formation combat. Take down the enemy with teamwork.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s go!”

The usual banter between Leo and the squad, reminiscent of a group of bandits, had become a familiar sound.

“The Ikaruga is dangerous. The Beo-Eagle can’t take it on. If it targets you, run. Only the Beo-Strike can deal with it.”

“What? No way.”

“Why?”

“That sucks.”

“I don’t care what you think. We can’t afford unnecessary losses. We’ll engage in combat until sunset, then return to base under the cover of darkness. Follow the Teodoras on the way back, and they’ll guide you home.”

Even though there were grumblings over the radio, Leo ignored them, emphasizing that no one should engage the Ikaruga in a direct dogfight.

Illia understood what Leo meant. The Ikaruga was an elite aircraft, piloted by an elite airman. Any careless approach by a Beo-Eagle would result in it being sliced down with precision.

“If it’s just Murasame, feel free to engage. Show no mercy and take them all down. This air battle will be the turning point in the war!”

Leo’s bandit-like underlings cheered and whistled as he led the charge, launching his Beo-Strike. Though Leo had initially disliked the aircraft, he had grown accustomed to it and no longer voiced complaints.

The sight of 90 fighters taking off in thirty three-plane formations, organized into three squadrons, was impressive. Following them were fifty-five Teodora heavy bombers. It was clear that today would see a historic aerial battle over Suzaku.

Just as Leo had said, if they won today’s battle and neutralized Suzaku, Misato would be left defenceless. What awaited them was a decisive battle that could seal the outcome of the Second Multi-Island Sea War.

──We have to win. To end this war as quickly as possible.

With that determination, Illia ascended into the sky. As the Voltec Air Squadron, her second family, assembled their formations in the air, she took her place at the front.

Gazing at the blue sky beyond the windscreen, she steeled herself for the coming battle against Kiyoaki and Kagura.

──I must protect this family.

──From now on, I can’t afford to have human emotions.

──I am just a part of the machine that flies in the sky...

Letting that resolve sink deep into her consciousness, Illia flew toward Suzaku, leading the charge alongside Leo in their two-plane formation, with the squadron following closely behind.

By now, Illia had fully become the ace of this grand formation.

Same day, 5:00 PM, Aerial Fortress Suzaku—

As soon as the anti-air radar detected the large enemy formation that had taken off from the Karanakuta Fortress, sirens blared across Suzaku. Every airman in the standby area rushed toward the row of Murasame fighters, ready to intercept. Reports also came in from patrol boats disguised as fishing vessels, transmitting the details of the enemy formation through the loudspeakers.

"Enemy fighter formation, three squadrons, over eighty aircraft! Followed by approximately fifty Teodora heavy bombers! Advancing from the south-southwest! Target unknown, likely Suzaku!"

Hearing the announcement, the Kusanagi Air Corps members exchanged words while sprinting to their planes.

"That’s a massive formation. Finally, a proper daytime battle!"

"This is the kind of air battle they write about in textbooks. Damn, my hands are itching for it!"

"The enemy fighters outnumber us three to one. If each of us takes down three, we win!"

"Let’s show them what we’re made of!"

Despite the cloudy and dusk-lit sky, the visibility was far better than the previous night battle, boosting the morale of the airmen. In the clear daylight, the elite pilots, drawn from both land and sea forces, were eager to prove the results of their intense training. Each rushed to their assigned aircraft with unwavering determination.

Kiyoaki and Ryu also climbed into their Ikaruga fighters, preparing for battle.

Secured by his seatbelt, Kiyoaki scanned the instruments, confirming everything was functioning properly. Keeping a close eye on the temperature gauges, he switched on the radio and took deep, steady breaths.

"We’ll intercept them at six thousand meters. The cloud cover is thick, so visibility will be limited. Use the clouds to our advantage and fight smart," Commander Maolong's voice echoed over the radio. Among the responses, Kiyoaki heard Kagura’s voice.

One by one, the Murasame fighters left the flight line, their propellers roaring as they ascended into the frigid winter sky. The ground crew waved them off with hats and hands raised high, though everyone knew in their hearts that not all the fighters would return from this battle. The enemy numbers were simply overwhelming—total annihilation was a real possibility. Yet, the warriors flew toward the inevitable clash in the sky.

Kiyoaki’s thoughts lingered on Rensuke. The sharp pang of regret from losing him surged back, fuelling Kiyoaki’s resolve. He never wanted to feel that helplessness again.

—For everyone in this country, I will fight.

Planting that firm decision deep within his core, Kiyoaki gazed up at the twilight sky.

He would leave all hesitation behind on the ground.

No more identity, no more past, no more emotions. He would discard them all at the flight line.

Once he took to the air, he would become a single piece of steel, one that would strike down the advancing "enemy."

"Sakagami, ready for take-off," Kiyoaki announced, and the rear twin-rotating propellers of the Ikaruga began to spin. The four blades, rotating leftward, briefly appeared to reverse direction before blurring into a disc shape.

—What I’m about to face is no different from me—just soulless steel.

—This is a job where steel must eliminate steel from the sky.

Kiyoaki taxied to the runway and opened the throttle.

The Ikaruga accelerated, its wings gathering lift as Kiyoaki’s mind steeled itself for what would be the toughest air battle of his life.

With a hawk’s sharp gaze, he looked toward the December sky.

The sky, vast and filled with cruel blue hues, awaited Kiyoaki’s flight and the fateful clash that was to come.

He knew he would soon have to kill those he once cared for.

—The enemy isn’t Illia.

He pulled the control stick back.

—The enemy is the steel wolf that kills my allies and civilians.

The wheels left the ground, and the sky ahead filled with blue and clouds.

The Ikaruga soared past the slower Murasame fighters, demonstrating its superior climbing ability as it ascended to the designated altitude. Commander Maolong had chosen six thousand meters because anything higher would thin the air, making it difficult for the Murasame fighters to climb. Being higher up at the start of an air battle offered a clear advantage, and Kiyoaki intended to begin from an even higher altitude.

Commander Maolong had anticipated Kiyoaki’s thoughts early on.

"Ikaruga, you can climb as high as you want. Sakagami, Ryu, you have free rein," Maolong said with a light-hearted tone. Kiyoaki responded with gratitude.

"Thank you."

"Don’t let us down, Sakagami, Ryu. You’re our aces. Protect the citizens," Maolong's voice came through again, this time more serious.

Both Kiyoaki and Ryu responded in unison. Though Maolong didn’t possess Leo’s charisma, Kiyoaki had grown to respect him over time. Maolong had understood Kiyoaki’s reasons for pulling out of the battle during the air raid on Misato and had entrusted him with the Ikaruga again. For that, Kiyoaki was determined to give everything he had in today’s battle.

With his oxygen mask on, Kiyoaki levelled off at six thousand meters, accelerated to gain speed, and then angled his nose upward.

He had come to understand through experience that the Ikaruga’s turbo-prop engine performed even better at high altitudes. He wanted to bring the battle to an altitude where other piston-engine aircraft would struggle, maximizing the advantage his aircraft provided.

At seven thousand five hundred meters, Kiyoaki levelled off and turned on his flight suit’s heater. The sharp sound of the high-altitude winds filled his ears.

—But even at this height, the Beo-Strike can match me…

As he mentally prepared for the inevitable clash, Ryu’s aircraft flew alongside him at the same altitude. Glancing at Ryu’s cockpit, Kiyoaki saw the fierce determination in his eyes.

If you run away again, I’ll kill you.

Ryu’s gaze seemed to say it all.

Kiyoaki returned only a silent nod.

—I won’t run anymore. I’ll fight alongside you.

Ryu flipped his wings and distanced himself about a thousand meters from Kiyoaki, beginning his patrol.

According to Kagura, Ryu had a pregnant wife in Misato. Unable to evacuate due to her condition, she had narrowly survived the previous air raid, but the experience had taken a toll on her. Ryu’s anger toward Kiyoaki likely stemmed from the fear he had for his wife’s safety.

—Everyone fights for someone important.

—I can’t be the only one who runs away…

Over and over, Kiyoaki etched this resolve deep into his soul. He reminded himself to pull the trigger without hesitation, even if he recognized a familiar face in the enemy’s cockpit. He would fire the 37mm cannon when the time came.

Suddenly, the eastern sky glittered with distant points of light. The flickering dots grew in number.

"They’re here. There are so many of them," one of his comrades remarked over the radio, the tension palpable.

"The Voltec Air Squadron is skilled in formation combat. Even if you have an enemy in your sights, always watch your back," Kagura’s calm voice advised, her resolve evident. She, too, was determined to see this battle through as a member of the Kusanagi Air Corps.

Kiyoaki glanced behind him toward the western sky. There were about forty-five minutes until the sun would set. They had less than an hour to fight in visual combat.

The outcome of the Second Multi-Island Sea War would likely be decided in this brief window.

Scanning the combat zone, Kiyoaki found a route through the cloud layers, a hidden path to approach the enemy undetected. He was flying a thousand meters higher than the rest, giving him a clear view of the terrain below.

"Sakagami, I’ll strike first. Anyone who can follow, do so."

Kiyoaki began moving stealthily through the cloud cover at an altitude of seven thousand five hundred meters. His radio buzzed with voices, but no one followed him after what had happened in the previous battle.

Except for one.

From six thousand meters, one aircraft was following Kiyoaki’s course.

"I’ll cover you, Lieutenant."

It was Dambazolik, loyally following behind in his inferior Murasame.

"Alright. Stay alert to the clouds. Keep them between us and the enemy."

After giving his instructions, Kiyoaki maneuverer through the drifting clouds, occasionally peeking through gaps to observe the movements of the Voltec Air Squadron below.

The closer they got, the clearer the enemy formation became. At an altitude of five thousand five hundred meters, over ninety enemy fighters advanced in three squadrons of thirty planes each. It was an awe-inspiring sight. Despite the massive size of the formation, there wasn’t a single break in their lines. This was the "Kings of the Sky," more disciplined and honed than during Kiyoaki’s time with them, their confidence born of countless victories in battle.

As Kiyoaki closed in, hidden in the clouds, he repeated the mantra he had been telling himself all along.

—I am steel. The enemy is steel.

—What happens next is nothing more than two clumps of steel eliminating each other.

His hands were slick with sweat as they gripped the control stick.

No matter how much he tried to suppress it, the sight of the advancing Voltec Air Squadron conjured memories of the faces of those he once laughed with on the beach. He shook his head to clear those images away and instead focused on the memories of Rensuke, the young boy whose sister had been killed, and the citizens of Misato who had burned in the oily sea, their charred remains drifting down the river.

—I am no longer human. I’m a part of this machine.

With determination, Kiyoaki widened his eyes. The Voltec Air Squadron, unaware of his presence, continued their steady advance.

Carefully weaving through the clouds, Kiyoaki finally positioned himself directly above the ninety-plane formation. He could see the two Beo-Strike fighters leading the charge—Leo and Illia.

Dambazolik was still close behind, hidden in the cloud cover.

—Let’s go.

Kiyoaki steeled his heart.

He had become a single piece of the Ikaruga’s steel.

A solid block of steel pushed the control stick forward. The Ikaruga’s nose dipped downward.

Sixty degrees of descent. The howl of high-altitude winds briefly whistled against the windscreen.

His entire view was now filled with clouds, the distant ocean, and the upper surfaces of the Voltec Air Squadron’ planes.

The Ikaruga broke through 800 kilometres per hour, plummeting toward the enemy.

Kiyoaki braced against the G-forces. The enemy planes rapidly grew larger. The enormous formation, divided into three squadrons, filled his vision, each squadron itself broken down into smaller groups of three.

—I’ll tear right through the centre.

Aiming for the heart of the Voltec formation, Kiyoaki simultaneously pulled the triggers for both the 37mm cannon and the 20mm machine guns.

Part 24 (Part 10 of Volume 6)

As the vanguard of the Voltec Air Squadron, Illia led the formation, eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the Suzaku Aerial Fortress and the approaching Kusanagi Air Corps.

The western sky was beginning to glow, a crimson hue creeping into the fading blue. The enemy, though only a third of their numbers, radiated a sense of tragic determination. This was a fight they were prepared to die for.

—They’re resolved to die, which makes them dangerous.

Illia knew that the stronger their resolve, the harder it would be to bring them down. But she had also steeled herself to fight, determined to minimize the losses on her side.

—Sakagami and Kagura must be among them.

The thought crept into her mind, causing her to falter for just a moment. Illia quickly shut her eyes, taking a deep breath, banishing such thoughts from her mind.

—I am no longer human. I am a war machine.

With that mantra, she refocused her gaze on the Kusanagi Air Corps.

Suddenly, a massive explosion echoed from behind her.

"!? "

Illia snapped her eyes open and looked back.

In the middle of their 90-plane formation, an inferno bloomed, engulfing a fighter in flames.

Chaos spread through the squadron. Down below, a dark shadow streaked across the sea, followed by a Beo-Eagle spinning out of control as it plummeted from the sky.

The shadow veered sharply, lifting its nose in a manoeuvre that demonstrated breathtaking speed.

Voices filled the radio, panic erupting among her comrades.

"We’ve been ambushed! Hilman’s down!"

"What the hell was that? A cannon!?"

"It’s that weird plane with the propeller in the back!"

Leo’s voice cut through the chaos.

"Scatter! We’ve been hit from above! There are more in the clouds!"

"It’s the Ikaruga. I’ll pursue," Illia responded, flipping her wings and rolling her plane as she descended. She locked onto the Ikaruga, now pulling away after its hit-and-run strike.

—It could be Sakagami.

That thought briefly crossed her mind, but she shoved it away. Her eyes focused intensely on the combat zone, where the Ikaruga skilfully used the clouds to mask its escape. Meanwhile, Kusanagi Air Corps was charging in to press their advantage.

"They’re attacking from the front as well! Battle's starting—engage!"

Caught off guard, the Voltec formation struggled to reassemble.

"Stay calm! Do not break formation! They’re only two planes!" Leo barked over the radio.

The two attackers had wreaked havoc, throwing the Voltec formation into disarray, retreating into the clouds before they could be properly engaged.

Illia gritted her teeth and pushed her throttle. Her Beo-Strike roared to life, the turbo-propeller engine giving chase to the fleeing Ikaruga.

Clouds closed around the tail end of the Ikaruga’s twin contra-rotating propellers, almost as if nature itself conspired to hide the plane from her view. But Illia knew better—it wasn’t the clouds helping, it was the enemy’s skill.

It was clear now who was piloting the enemy plane. It had to be Kiyoaki Sakagami.

Just as she realized this, a sudden hail of 20mm rounds streaked toward her nose.

"…Tch!"

Distracted by Sakagami, she had completely missed the second Murasame. She quickly tilted her controls, narrowly dodging the tracer rounds. The Murasame rocketed downward, but then climbed back up, positioning itself between her and Sakagami, preventing her from pursuing further.

—That must be Sakagami’s wingman.

In that instant, a heavy rumble resonated from above.

"!? "

Looking up, she saw the debris of a shattered Beo-Eagle falling from the sky. Black smoke coiled like tentacles, as the Ikaruga ascended with its twin-propeller song, emerging from the cloud cover like a ghost.

"Sakagami…!"

Frustration scorched through her as she yanked her controls, but the Ikaruga once again used the clouds as cover, pulling away with apparent ease. Another wave of chaos swept through the Voltec Air Squadron.

"What the hell is that cannon!?"

"Reyes! No! Reyes, answer me!!"

It was Reyes, a fellow pilot who had often flirted with Kagura, the same Reyes who had shared jokes with Kiyoaki. Now, he was dead at Kiyoaki’s hand.

"Black Rabbit emblem! It’s Sakagami!!"

"That bastard, he got him! Let’s take him down!!"

Some of the Voltec pilots shouted in rage, eager to avenge Reyes, but Leo quickly intervened.

"Don’t engage Sakagami head-on! You’ll lose at high altitude! Focus on the enemies in front of you! Illia!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Take down Sakagami! You’re the only one who can!"

"Understood!"

Illia had been bracing for this command. If they didn’t take down the enemy ace, their losses would continue to mount. In this sky, only the Beo-Strike had the power to match the Ikaruga. Leo had to manage the overall battle, leaving it to Illia to hunt down Kiyoaki.

Yet, even though she had steeled herself, her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the control stick.

Illia forced the tremors down, repeating her internal mantra.

—Why hesitate now?

—I’m not human. Machines don’t hesitate.

With her eyes sharp and focused, Illia locked onto Kiyoaki’s retreating plane and opened the throttle.

—I’ll take down the Ikaruga.

Her Beo-Strike kicked up clouds as it shot upward in pursuit.

"They’re coming from the front!"

"Illia, leave it to us!"

"Our target is the Murasame—we can handle them! Shoot them all down!"

As the radio buzzed with activity, the hum of propellers grew louder. Below, Illia could see the Kusanagi Air Corps punching through the disarrayed Voltec formation like a drill, their precise three-column formations cutting through.

"Damn, they’re strong!"

"Stay sharp! They’re no pushovers!"

With far fewer numbers, Kusanagi’s only option was to exploit every gap and widen any opening they could find. Their coordinated movements rivalled the Voltec pilots, if not surpassing them.

What had once been a perfectly organized formation of ninety planes was now a battlefield of black smoke and scattered fighters.

Three more Beo-Eagles plummeted, trailing black smoke, as desperate screams filled the radio.

"KAREN!! SHORTY!!"

"No, no, don’t go, Shorty!!"

The anguished cries belonged to Lulu and Lala. Their close friends, Karen and Shorty, had just been shot down. Illia felt a wave of sorrow wash over her. Karen and Shorty had been two of the kindest, most supportive women in the squadron, always lifting her spirits during the endless days of battle.

But machines do not cry. Illia’s steely gaze remained fixed on Kiyoaki.

—Here I come, Black Rabbit.

Her Beo-Strike’s exhaust burned bright blue as she pushed forward.

The eight blades of her contra-rotating propellers tore through the air, howling as her mighty steel wolf surged through the twilight sky.

With fangs bared, she clawed through the clouds, tailing the black rabbit.

Her finger hovered over the trigger of her 20mm cannons.

Just as she was about to squeeze—

A new beast swooped in from above, claws outstretched.

"!? "

Blistering-hot tracer rounds streaked across her vision.

She rolled at the last second, narrowly dodging the incoming fire, and glanced behind her.

The Ikaruga. One more of them. The emblem on its nose:

—The White Tiger.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot’s sharp gaze locked onto Illia’s. This was the same dangerous adversary who had pursued her relentlessly during their last encounter.

And now, because of this sudden ambush, she had lost sight of the Black Rabbit.

With the sea above her head, Illia dived and checked her six. The White Tiger was giving chase.

—So, you want to duel me.

—Fine, have it your way.

Illia knew she had to deal with both Ikaruga planes. If she could take them down, the outcome of the entire battle could change.

The wolf bared its fangs toward the tiger, kicking clouds aside as it roared forward, turning its wings vertically against the ocean below. She could feel the tiger pilot’s tenacity through the air.

—He underestimates me because I’m a woman.

She had felt it in their last encounter, a hint of condescension from the White Tiger.

Her steel wolf’s eyes locked onto the tiger.

—You don’t know what I’ve endured to get here.

—I’ll show you the difference in skill…!!

Without hesitation, Illia baited the White Tiger into a vertical dogfight.

—Pray. You will never touch the ground again.

She whispered the silent challenge to the White Tiger, who clung relentlessly to her tail, ready to strike.

Illia's presence vanished from Kiyoaki's senses.

As he ascended, Kiyoaki glanced over his shoulder. Thick clouds layered above and below, obscuring Illia’s position. Moments earlier, Ryu had dived in from the side, likely engaging her in combat.

—Illia must be preoccupied with Ryu now. This is my chance to disrupt the enemy formation as much as possible.

At 7,000 meters, there was no one pursuing him. No one capable of keeping up. Kiyoaki levelled his plane and surveyed the battlefield below.

From this altitude, his eyes, sharp like a hawk’s, scanned for his next prey.

The Kusanagi Air Corps had split the enemy formation in two, spreading chaos and widening the rift in the enemy lines. Each three-plane squadron scattered into dogfights with the Voltec Air Squadron’ smaller formations, utilizing the floating clouds as cover. The Kusanagi pilots, the best of the best, were exploiting every advantage the battlefield offered, managing to land significant blows.

Kiyoaki spotted his next target.

He banked his Ikaruga, nose angled downward. With the enemy in his sights, he kept his gaze fixed on the upper surface of the target plane.

A textbook top-down deflection shot.

The 37mm autocannon tore through the enemy cockpit, sending the plane spiralling downward, its wings ripped apart and flung skyward.

In the midst of the flames, Kiyoaki glimpsed a splash of red—blood. The enemy pilot had been obliterated, leaving no trace.

He didn’t stop to pray for the fallen comrades who had once been his allies.

—Next.

The iron wings of the Ikaruga sliced through the combat zone.

Without a sound, he sighted another Beo-Eagle flying through the clouds, raising the smoking barrel of his 20mm machine guns.

He shattered the enemy and the clouds around it in an instant.

Plunging through the debris, Kiyoaki snapped into a sharp roll, dodging machine-gun fire from another Beo-Eagle behind him.

Half-flaps deployed. Kiyoaki’s sudden deceleration caused his pursuer to overshoot him.

Retracting the flaps, Kiyoaki’s crosshairs locked onto the tail of the enemy plane. He squeezed the trigger, and the deafening roar of his 20mm cannons filled the cockpit.

Without a second glance at the flaming wreckage of his former comrades, Kiyoaki set his cold, unfeeling gaze on the Voltec Air Squadron.

—Too slow.

—The enemy seems to move in slow motion.

Kiyoaki spotted an enemy three-plane squadron harassing his allies at the same altitude. He opened the throttle, banking left and pressing the foot pedals, lining up his attack from above.

The wingman of the squadron leader moved to intercept, throwing themselves in Kiyoaki's path.

Without hesitation, Kiyoaki unleashed a volley of 20mm rounds into the wingman.

—No sympathy. No thoughts. No hesitation.

The wingman exploded into pieces, and the second wingman soon moved to block Kiyoaki’s path.

—I am not human. I am but a fragment of the iron that forms this machine.

The squadron leader seemed oblivious, focused on targeting a Kusanagi Murasame fighter.

Another burst of 20mm fire severed the wing from the second wingman’s plane, sending it spiralling into the void.

Ignoring the wreckage, Kiyoaki closed in on the squadron leader, who still hadn’t noticed him.

—I am the reaper that clears the sky of these killing machines.

As this detached thought passed through Kiyoaki's mind, he fired the 37mm cannon again, sending another burst of blood and debris into the air.

His comrades' voices crackled through the radio.

"Nice work, Sakagami! You saved us!"

"That was incredible! Like a god!"

Kiyoaki only nodded in response, refusing to answer, and began climbing again.

He scanned the battlefield. Slowly, the Voltec Air Squadron was regaining some semblance of order, leveraging their superior numbers to surround isolated Kusanagi pilots, ensuring they were picked off one by one.

The once-optimistic radio chatter of his comrades was now mingled with cries of desperation.

"Yunfa's down! Damn it!"

"Sontada, don't leave us! Please, stay with us!"

"This is Galpo! Engine's hit, I’m going to ram them. Farewell, everyone."

Kiyoaki looked down. He could see a Murasame spiralling toward a Beo-Eagle, flames roaring from its engine. It had to be Galpo, the ever-cheerful and beloved nineteen-year-old who had always brought smiles to the squadron.

A fiery explosion followed as Galpo made contact, his life vanishing into the sky.

A painful cry echoed over the radio.

"Hold your anger! We must win this! Win for those who died!"

Commander Maolong’s voice boomed, rallying the squadron. Kiyoaki clenched his teeth and whispered the names of the fallen, vowing to carry them with him.

Ryu and Illia were still locked in their fierce battle. It seemed neither could gain the upper hand just yet. Kiyoaki resolved to take out as many Beo-Eagles as possible before the two came to a conclusion, easing the burden on his comrades.

He set his sights on the most chaotic part of the battlefield, choosing his next target. As he dove from 7,000 meters, lining up his shot—

"…!"

Another plane appeared alongside him, matching his descent.

Surprised, Kiyoaki turned to his left.

A Beo-Strike.

Its nose bore the emblem of a lion.

"…Commander Leo…!"

Leo's stern gaze met Kiyoaki’s from the cockpit as they flew side by side.

Without breaking formation, Kiyoaki raised his left hand to his temple in a crisp salute, eyes filled with respect.

—I have always respected you, Captain Leo.

He poured all his unspoken thoughts into that salute.

Leo smiled faintly, a subtle smile on his lips, and returned the salute.

• This is it, Sakagami. Let’s see who’s better.*

It felt as though Leo’s words echoed directly into Kiyoaki’s heart.

A burning sensation spread through his chest, searing his resolve. This was the man who had taught him the meaning of formation combat, the man who had gone to great lengths to rescue Kiyoaki and Kagura when they were captured. Now, Kiyoaki had no choice but to bring him down.

But there was no room for tears.

Kiyoaki had already prepared himself for this inevitable meeting in the sky.

The only way to repay Leo's kindness was to engage in an all-out battle without holding back.

—I will fight you, as a samurai of the Akitsu Federation.

Kiyoaki lowered his left hand onto the throttle.

—I will fight you with everything I have, as a proud knight of St Vault.

He locked his sharp gaze onto Leo.

Leo, too, returned his left hand to the controls, fixing Kiyoaki with a cold, intense look—befitting the legendary "King of the Skies" of St Vault.

• You've got a good face now. That's what I expect from my subordinate.*

A faint smile appeared in the depths of Leo's stern expression. It was the smile of a man who found joy in nurturing and guiding those under his wing, watching them grow and soar to new heights.

But in an instant, that smile vanished.

• Come and surpass me, Sky Samurai.*

What replaced it was the pride of a true knight of the skies.

• Can you bring me down?*

Their mutual pride, dignity, and the countless hours of honing their skills clashed in the space between them, sparking like fire.

The silver wings of the Beo-Strike sliced through the dense clouds.

A thick wall of clouds swallowed the space between them.

Kiyoaki returned his gaze forward. At around 5,000 meters altitude lay the most intense battlefield.

—If I can shoot down Captain Leo, the tide will turn...!

The key to victory was the Beo-Strike and the Ikaruga. If he could take down the Beo-Strike, the Ikaruga would have the overwhelming ability to decimate the enemy’s lesser soldiers.

Kicking up a spray of vapor, Kiyoaki kept his eyes on Leo’s last known location. Using the cloud cover as a shield, Leo had completely disappeared from Kiyoaki’s view.

—No, he’s there.

—He’s hiding in the clouds, watching me...!

His intuition told him so. A faint electric current coursed through the air, making his temple twitch.

Earlier, Leo had been on Kiyoaki's left side. Naturally, Kiyoaki had been searching for the Beo-Strike on the left, but what if that had been a bluff...?

—Right...!

The moment he turned his head to the right, the clouds split apart, and tracer rounds came hurtling toward him.

"Ugh...!!"

He hastily pulled the control stick, narrowly dodging the attack.

Out of the white mist, the lion of the skies pounced.

As Kiyoaki rolled his aircraft to evade, Leo mirrored the roll, locking onto him.

The claws came slashing down, tearing through the air.

A stream of 20mm bullets mercilessly chased Kiyoaki's cockpit.

"Ngh...!!"

Kiyoaki clenched his teeth and slammed his foot on the rudder bar. He barely dodged the shots, but Leo was firmly on his tail.

—I can’t lose. If I lose, the city will burn again under incendiary bombs.

Urging himself on, Kiyoaki glanced back, then opened the throttle, trying to shake Leo off.

—Become a bullet. A bullet without emotion...!!

He flipped his wings and entered a vertical spiral. As he confirmed Leo was still chasing, Kiyoaki caught a glimpse of another Ikaruga performing the same vertical spiral at the same altitude.

—Ryu.

In the same turning path, Kiyoaki spotted Ryu being pursued by Illia. They were also locked in a vertical spiral duel, fighting to settle the score. It was clear that this dogfight between the Ikaruga and Beo-Strike would determine the outcome of the battle.

—Don’t lose, Ryu...!!

As he ascended toward the heavens, Kiyoaki found himself rooting for his prickly colleague. Though they didn't get along, the countless mock dogfights they had shared in their Ikarugas’ had sharpened Kiyoaki's skills. No matter how unpleasant Ryu could be, he was still a comrade.

—We will win. We must win this fight...!!

Kiyoaki sent his fervent prayer to his comrade and refocused on his own battle.

What is with this woman?

Ryu Won groaned in frustration as he endured the crushing G-forces that threatened to knock him out. No matter how hard he pushed his vertical spirals or how skilfully he weaved his manoeuvres, the white wolf of the sky relentlessly followed his every move. It was as if Illia effortlessly traced the paths of his intricate, almost artistic flight patterns, steadily closing the distance between them.

—Could she really be better than me?

Ryu had shed more blood than anyone else to reach this level. He had devoted himself to relentless training, thinking of nothing but aerial combat, sharpening his vision until he could see stars in broad daylight. He had survived countless battles and mastered a dozen flight techniques.

In the Ikaruga, no one could keep up with him.

At least, that’s what he had believed. But the white wolf, that brilliant and haughty woman, was stepping into Ryu’s domain—effortlessly, as if it were her birthright.

No, more than that—she was surpassing him.

"What are you...!?"

As they continued their vertical spirals, Ryu realized that the distance between them was slowly shrinking.

The slightest millimetre of movement in his control stick, the careful adjustment of his throttle during ascent, the precise reading of the wind and the limits of his aircraft—all of these Misator differences were adding up over time. As a result, the white wolf was steadily closing in on his tail, edging ever closer to that perfect range for a kill.

It was impossible.

—Are you saying my skills are inferior to hers?

Blood trickled from Ryu’s lips as he bit down hard. His clenched teeth felt as if they might shatter. It was as if everything he had worked so hard to achieve was about to be denied in this cruel, merciless judgment.

—I won’t lose. I can’t lose. I refuse to lose...!!

That woman must be suffering just as much in her cockpit. She would be gasping for air, her eyes bloodshot from the constant pressure of the G-forces, silently begging for the struggle to end as she gripped her control stick. He wasn’t the only one in pain. The first to falter and lose their precision in this gruelling battle would be the one to lose.

The sea and sky alternated in his view through the windshield.

At some point, Ryu noticed the sky had begun to glow with the soft hues of sunset.

Bathed in the gentle light of dusk, the face of his wife, waiting for him back in Misato, suddenly appeared in his mind.

—Leerin.

Standing in the doorway of their home, her belly swollen with their child, she had watched him leave for duty with a sorrowful expression.

Why that image came to him at this moment, Ryu couldn’t understand.

"Look after our baby, okay?"

Her soft, pained voice echoed in his ears.

I’ll be back. There’s no way I’m dying without even seeing my child’s face. Don’t worry. No one can beat me in the sky. I’ll protect Misato’s skies.

Those words he had thrown at her as he left now vividly replayed in his mind, as if she were whispering them right beside him.

—What am I doing, thinking about this now?

As the colours of dusk and the deep blue of the sea alternated before him like a movie screen, Leerin’s tearful smile enveloped his vision.

Then, a beastly growl came from behind.

Ryu turned to look.

The white wolf had already closed in, within that fatal range. Like an ancient swordsman closing in for the kill with a single leap, her aerial manoeuvres had brought her within striking distance.

—I see now.

Ryu finally understood what was happening.

—I’m going to die.

Accepting this, he spoke into his radio.

"Sakagami, I’m sorry."

Ryu entrusted everything to the only pilot he recognized as his equal.

"Protect Misato for me."

Protect the wife waiting for him in Misato.

With his final prayer, Ryu and his Ikaruga were swallowed by a stream of 20mm bullets, shattering into countless pieces that danced through the azure sky.

At the moment when Kiyoaki spotted the fiery bloom that had once been Ikaruga, cheers erupted over the radio from his comrades.

"We got the Ikaruga!" "As expected from Illia, she's the best!" "Illia, come over here! With you, we're a hundred times stronger!"

Kiyoaki tilted his control stick and scanned the battlefield.

Although the surprise attack had momentarily thrown the enemy into confusion, the Voltec Air Squadron was gradually regaining its composure. They were elite veterans of many battles, and once their disciplined formation-based combat was reestablished, they wouldn’t fall behind easily. Yet, despite being outnumbered, the Kusanagi Air Corps fought with determination, as though they had chosen this place as their final battleground.

In the distance, Kiyoaki saw Leo and his Beo-Strike locked in a vertical spiral battle. Meanwhile, Lulu and Lala circled horizontally, waiting for an opening to strike Kiyoaki. The twin pilots, who were always cheerful on the ground, were ruthless and loyal to Leo in the skies—even against their favoured comrade Kiyoaki, they wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Lulu, Lala, please handle Sakagami," Illia ordered.

"Okay!" "Sorry, but we're going to shoot you down!"

"Call if you need help."

With that request, Illia turned her aircraft towards the most chaotic part of the battlefield. The situation was still evenly matched, but if her Beo-Strike were to enter that area, the momentum of the battle would likely shift in their favour.

Taking a deep breath to calm the ragged breathing from her earlier battle, Illia opened the throttle.

After accelerating upward, she climbed swiftly, darting through the invisible slope like a white wolf. At 7,000 meters, she overlooked the combat zone, searching for her next target.

She needed to find the strongest enemy and take them down in a single strike-and-fade attack.

From her high vantage point, she carefully observed the enemy’s use of clouds, agility, pursuit, and precision in shooting. She found the most skilled opponent.

With her eyes ablaze, Illia dove down in a sudden descent toward her prey.

The enemy aircraft grew larger and larger in her view. Her target would likely never realize what had happened before they were blown apart.

"Ryu has been shot down!! Sakagami, are you still not done!?"

Captain Maolong shouted into the radio. There was no response. He knew that Kiyoaki couldn't reply in the middle of his vertical spiral battle, but Maolong was too anxious to remain silent. The white wolf that had taken down Ryu had vanished into the sky like smoke.

But it couldn’t have disappeared. It was hiding somewhere in the battle zone, licking its lips, sizing up its next target.

Shaking off the creeping fear, Maolong raised his voice, hoarse from the strain.

"Stay focused! Don’t forget all the training you’ve done for this day! Show them the spirit of Akitsu!!"

As he rallied his comrades, Maolong spotted a friendly aircraft being pursued by an enemy. He opened his throttle to provide cover. Today’s tally of kills was already six, the highest he had ever achieved in one battle. But his plane was riddled with holes, smoke seeping from several places.

—I can’t go down. If I fall, it’s all over.

Maolong steeled his resolve. As the fleeing friendly aircraft grew larger, and the pursuing Beo-Eagle drew closer, his mind suddenly filled with the image of his family back home in Central State.

"…What?"

Why would that memory surface now, in the middle of a dogfight?

His aged mother, his worn-out wife from working the fields, and his five thin children had all waved him off during his last visit home. That was the scene that played out in his mind.

I’m sorry I couldn’t feed you enough. I hope this military script will turn into real money soon. Once this war is over, I’ll work the fields too. I’ll trade the control stick for a hoe, and feed you all until you tell me you’re full. Just hold on a little longer. I’ll be home again soon.

He could hear the words he had said, patting the heads of his frail children as they clung to him in tears.

He couldn’t understand why this memory was coming to him now.

"Captain, above!!"

Kagura’s voice screamed through the radio.

"What!?"

Maolong looked up.

Through the crimson sky, a white wolf plunged down toward him like a fang from the heavens.

—I see.

Maolong understood what was happening.

"I’m sorry, my family—"

The parting words he tried to convey over the radio were cut short by the merciless roar of 20mm machine gun fire.

The white wolf tore through Maolong's aircraft, transforming it into a crimson fireball in an instant. With a howl of wind, the wolf raced off toward its next prey.

"Captain!! Captain!!" "The captain’s been shot down, taken by the white wolf!!" "Don’t panic, calm down! Kagura, you take command!" "Kiyoaki, please, we’re counting on you!"

Amid the frantic voices of the Kusanagi Air Corps, Kiyoaki raised his bloodshot eyes and gazed up at Leo, who was pursuing him relentlessly from above.

—Ryu. Captain Maolong. I swear, I will avenge you.

"We can’t stop the white wolf!! It’s going to eat us all!!" "If you’re targeted by the white wolf, retreat! Don’t engage it head-on!" "Damn it, they got another one! How many planes has it taken down already!?"

His comrades’ panicked voices filled the radio. Even though Illia might be gentle on the ground, in the skies, she was a savage wolf, mercilessly slaughtering helpless sheep. Despite the elite skill of the Kusanagi Air Corps, there was no one capable of matching her in her Beo-Strike.

—The only one who can defeat Illia is me.

—That’s why I need to finish off Captain Leo as soon as possible...!!

The pressure was unbearable. To make matters worse, two other planes had been circling around the spiral battle since earlier, making him increasingly uneasy.

It was likely Lulu and Lala. They were waiting for the perfect moment to exploit Kiyoaki’s distraction with Leo.

Though the twins were carefree and light-hearted on the ground, in the air, they were terrifying. Kiyoaki knew firsthand just how deadly they were as a pair. When they worked together, no average pilot could survive. Back when Kiyoaki flew with them, they had downed 67 planes between them. Together, they had a better record than even Leo.

"I’ll cover you, Kiyoaki..." "I’m coming, Lieutenant Sakagami!!"

Kagura and Dambazolik’s voices came through the radio. They would keep the twins off his back.

Without replying, Kiyoaki gritted his teeth and endured the G-forces from the vertical spiral. He could hear his organs creaking under the pressure. Every cell in his body screamed for oxygen, but he couldn’t afford to give in. He had to endure, and endure some more.

—He’s strong...!!

As expected of the "King of the Skies" of St Vault. Any other opponent would have been shot down long ago, but Leo was hanging on with superhuman tenacity.

—Captain Leo is physically stronger than I am. Far stronger...

Kiyoaki recalled Leo’s imposing physique. He would be at a disadvantage in a contest of endurance. He needed to turn this into a battle of skill.

The moment Kiyoaki hesitated, carefully aimed crossfire rained down diagonally from above.

"Ugh...!!"

Just as Kiyoaki was about to climb toward the sky, two lines of tracer fire formed an X-shaped barrier in front of him.

He twisted his aircraft, hearing the impact of bullets striking his fuselage. Some rounds had penetrated the hull. Barely dodging a lethal strike, Kiyoaki found Leo quickly positioning himself on his tail.

"Damn it...!!"

This wasn’t good. The seamless teamwork of the Voltec Air Squadron had been perfectly executed. The crossfire was undoubtedly the work of Lulu and Lala. The same carefree twins on the ground had now become grim reapers, wielding the scythe of death in the air.

It was understandable, though. They were fighting for their comrades. Back when they flew together in the Voltec Air Squadron, whenever a comrade was shot down, Lulu and Lala would cry out the names of the fallen, their voices filled with anguish. As war orphans, they treated the members of the Voltec Air Squadron as their family. And for their family, they would shoot at Kiyoaki and Kagura without hesitation.

—I’m the same.

What he must protect is the sky of Misato. The lives of the citizens were on his shoulders. He could never allow himself to witness another massacre like before.

He would face them as a warrior of the skies, no matter who they were—whether Leo, Lulu, or Lala.

"Dambazolik, Kagura, keep the twins at bay!"

Kiyoaki made the request as he was being chased by Leo. After confirming their acknowledgment, he began to weave through clouds to disrupt Leo’s pursuit. Yet no matter how many clouds he tore through, when he glanced back, the emblem of the lion remained in his rearview.

With no solution in sight, he kept running and weaving, diving into the midst of the air combat, drawing complex arcs through the sky.

Using the falling debris of friend and foe alike, he narrowly avoided collisions. One wrong move and he would crash to his death, but it forced the same pressure on his pursuers. Even the black smoke rising from the flaming wreckage of downed planes served as cover, helping him evade pursuit. Kiyoaki used every element of the battlefield to escape.

With Kiyoaki in the lead, Leo followed, and Lulu and Lala flanked from either side. Behind them, Dambazolik and Kagura trailed, covering him. Kiyoaki flew a complex, erratic path that would cause an ordinary person to pass out, aiming to position himself behind Kagura.

"I’ve got him! Covering you!!"

With a shout of joy, Dambazolik unleashed a barrage of fire on Leo. Leo kicked the rudder and evaded, but Dambazolik clung to him, determined to free Kiyoaki. Lulu and Lala turned their guns on Dambazolik, trying to drive him off, but now Kagura joined the fray, firing 20mm rounds at the twins.

"Well done, Dambazolik...!!"

Kiyoaki praised his dependable wingman as he finally shook off Leo's pursuit and began to ascend. In an instant, he took in the chaotic dogfight below, focusing on Leo’s Beo-Strike.

The moment he spotted it, he opened the throttle and dove from above.

The Beo-Strike’s upper fuselage swelled in his sights.

—Captain Leo.

Tears threatened to well up, but he held them back. He was no longer human, but steel and a bullet. There was no room for tears.

—Father, Master Akhmed, and you... You are all my masters.

With that silent acknowledgment, he aimed at Leo's fuselage and pulled the trigger on his 20mm machine guns.

The scarlet tracer rounds tore through the evening sky—

The right wing of Leo's Beo-Strike was blown away.

His aircraft spun around its fuselage, the left wing sheared off at its structural limit, and only the fuselage remained, disappearing beyond the clouds.

"*We did it! We shot down the Beo-Strike!" "Amazing, Lieutenant Sakagami!" "Kiyoaki, take care of the twins too...!!"

The radio was filled with shouts of joy.

Although Kiyoaki had aimed at the fuselage, it seemed that Leo had noticed the incoming shots and managed to evade at the last second. Hoping that Leo had successfully ejected and was safely descending with his parachute, Kiyoaki glanced upward, spotting Dambazolik and Kagura being pursued by the twins.

Opening the throttle, Kiyoaki climbed rapidly, aiming at the twins’ vulnerable underbelly. The twins were disoriented, likely having lost their composure after seeing Leo go down, and were recklessly showering Dambazolik with machine-gun fire, enough to light up the sky.

—Lulu. Lala.

There was no time for sentiment. Kiyoaki knew that, but he couldn't shake the image of the innocent smiles the twins had shown him back on the beach.

Kiyoaki's 20mm machine guns shredded one of the twin’s wings.

The aircraft wobbled, losing control, and spiralled downward helplessly.

Kiyoaki wanted to confirm that the parachute had deployed, but the remaining twin wouldn't allow it.

As if half their soul had been torn away, the surviving twin furiously aimed their guns at Kiyoaki, unleashing a relentless barrage of bullets. In the cockpit, they were likely on the verge of madness—was it Lulu or Lala? There was no way to tell, but Kiyoaki ascended, shifting off-axis, and left the finishing blow to his comrades.

In his rearview, he saw Kagura's gunfire tear the wing off the remaining twin’s aircraft.

Lulu or Lala, now mirroring their fallen sibling's fate, spiralled downward in a similar trajectory, vanishing into the thick layer of clouds below.

—Abandon sentiment. You don’t need emotions. I’m no longer human.

Kiyoaki forcibly suppressed the pain and sadness welling up inside him.

—Bullets don’t cry.

He directed his focused gaze toward the battle zone.

"Sakagami, we need you! The white wolf is too strong...!!" "Our allies are all getting taken down! Hurry!!"

His comrades' desperate pleas echoed through the radio. No matter how skilled and experienced they were, or how they banded together to surround the enemy, the Murasame fighters couldn’t compete against the Beo-Strike.

Only one Beo-Strike remained.

On their side, only one Ikaruga remained.

—So, this is how it’s meant to be.

Kiyoaki reaffirmed his resolve.

He had etched that decision into his consciousness countless times by now.

There would be no hesitation.

—I will bring down Illia.

His wings gleamed under the crimson sunset.

—Wait for me, Illia.

—We will settle this once and for all.

Having discarded his humanity, transformed into nothing but a steel bullet, Kiyoaki began to ascend, searching for the beloved white wolf in the battlefield.

The screams over the radio made it clear what was happening in the battle zone.

"Captain Leo!! This can’t be real, tell me it's a lie, Captain!!" "Is the captain safe? Where did the plane go!?" "We don’t know, Lulu and Lala are down too!!" "Damn it!! Damn it!! Damn it!!" "It was the black rabbit! Don’t let Sakagami escape!!" "I won’t forgive that bastard, I’ll shoot him down!!"

Illia barely managed to swallow the emotions welling up from the pit of her stomach.

Leo was down. Lulu and Lala were down.

Illia glanced downward. The expansive cloud layer concealed the ocean below, making it impossible to see if any parachutes had deployed. If they had successfully ejected from their aircraft, they could descend into the ocean, where friendly airships, small vessels, or submarines could retrieve them.

After praying for their safety, Illia lifted her gaze.

There was no time to cry over her fallen comrades. That would have to wait until they returned to the ground. For now, the only thing left to do for those who still had wings in this sky was to shoot down the enemy.

"Illia, we're counting on you, you’re the ace!" "We’ll cover you, just focus on shooting them down!"

Encouraging voices reached her over the radio, and Illia nodded resolutely.

"Understood. Cover me."

Her dependable comrades had her back, so all she needed to focus on was shooting down the enemy.

She surveyed the sky. The western horizon was bathed in a deep crimson hue, like the blood of the fallen airmen. In another thirty minutes, the battlefield would be engulfed in darkness. It had to be decided before then.

—I will annihilate the Kusanagi Air Corps.

Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the remaining planes. The Kusanagi Air Corps had fewer than twenty aircraft left, while Voltec still had over fifty. The numbers would soon widen even further. As time passed, the weaker force would suffer greater losses, while the larger force would incur fewer casualties. It was nearing the decisive moment of the battle. Victory for Voltec seemed inevitable.

However, there was still one variable within the enemy ranks that could change the outcome.

That variable was now approaching, concealed by the clouds.

Even without seeing him, Illia could sense his presence. The entire combat zone was resonating with the unnatural combat prowess he exuded, a tension that chilled the air.

Every allied plane that had fallen recently had been shot down by him. Indifferent to being outnumbered, he took down the elite members of Voltec one by one, as if they were stationary targets. He had already shot down Leo, Lulu, and Lala without much effort—an unrivalled enemy ace.

—Sakagami.

—No... the black rabbit.

—If I leave you unchecked, my comrades will all be eaten...!

Illia sharpened her mind.

She purged all personal feelings.

Becoming one with the machine, she cast a sensory net over the airspace.

This heightened "sixth sense" that only the most chosen pilots possessed, surpassing normal human perception, allowed her to search for hidden enemies within the clouds.

She sought the dreaded black rabbit in the sky of the final showdown.

In one corner of the sky, at an altitude of 5,500 meters, she sensed a faint shadow rapidly approaching.

From her position at 6,200 meters, Illia turned her head in that direction.

The area was dense with clouds, with only a sliver of the sunset visible between gaps in the cloud cover.

There were more clouds than sky, but still—he was there. The oMisatous threat was closing in at combat speed, and Illia could feel it in her bones.

—I know where you are.

Illia’s eyes lost their colour.

In their place burned a dull, icy flame.

Becoming one with the steel of her Beo-Strike, Illia watched the sky to the northwest, waiting for her prey to emerge from the gap in the clouds.

She placed her finger on the trigger of her 20mm machine guns.

—Can you sense me?

The veil of clouds in front of her darkened faintly.

The roar of propellers reached her through the mist.

The wind swept the clouds away. The dense mist quickly cleared, and through the gaping rift in the clouds, the black rabbit suddenly leaped into Illia's line of sight.

At the same moment, Illia poured a stream of 20mm machine gun fire into the black rabbit’s path.

A direct hit.

The scorched fangs of the white wolf would surely tear into the black rabbit’s throat.

But, the black rabbit evaded the deadly shots with a sideways leap, slipping past the white wolf's left side and racing toward the chaotic battlefield.

—He’s feeling it...!!

Illia glanced back and confirmed it.

Just as she had sensed Kiyoaki’s presence, he too had sensed hers, reading her ambush and evading what should have been a sure-hit counterattack.

Illia's whole body trembled with a surge of emotions she had never experienced before.

"It's Ikaruga again, Illia! Do something!!" "Stop Sakagami, Illia! He's taking us all down!!"

The radio was filled with desperate cries. Illia quickly swung her Beo-Strike around, aiming at the airspace where Kiyoaki had disappeared. Her heart was still pounding, but she suppressed it and spread her wings over the battlefield.

"I'm coming now. I'll take down the Black Rabbit."

She announced this over the radio.

"Everyone, avoid the Black Rabbit. I will definitely bring him down..."

Illia dove back into the chaotic battlefield, scanning for the wings of the Ikaruga amid the violent skirmish between friend and foe.

"Hah... hah... hah...!"

Panting heavily, Kiyoaki locked his sights on his thirteenth target of the day, pouring 20mm machine-gun fire into the enemy aircraft.

He watched it explode and slammed the foot bar, leaving the trailing enemy to be dealt with by Dambazolik. There was no sign of Kagura—had she been shot down?

"Where's Kagura...!?"

"Kagura is leading the entire squadron! All four officers in the chain of command before her are dead!"

"Understood...!"

It was clear that enemy officers were targeting their key leaders, starting with Captain Maolong. With Kagura now in command, it showed how dire the situation had become.

Kiyoaki scanned the battlefield.

No more Beo-Eagles were coming after him.

They knew that a frontal attack would only lead to them being shot down. Just like a saint parting the sea, the enemy planes scattered before Kiyoaki's path.

But they weren't just fleeing.

They were waiting. Waiting for the only plane that could take down the Ikaruga.

The ultimate ace—the White Wolf.

Kiyoaki tore through the clouds, ascending. He glimpsed stars overhead, and the black streaks of clouds against the crimson backdrop of the westward sky. Night was coming soon, and visibility for combat would soon be at its limit.

—Illia. I can sense you.

Kiyoaki felt the threat closing in, just as he had earlier sensed her waiting for him beyond the clouds.

Trailing a vapor trail behind him, Kiyoaki climbed to 7,000 meters.

There were no clouds at this altitude, and thanks to the remaining light from the sunset, the aircraft were still visible.

At this high altitude, neither the Murasame nor the Beo-Eagle could enter. The sky was a pure crimson, with stars at the zenith watching over Kiyoaki in profound silence.

It was the perfect stage for a duel.

—I'll wait here. For Illia.

With a calm expression, Kiyoaki circled, waiting for his "lover" to arrive.

The western sky was draped in a vibrant sunset. Between the layers of clouds, there were still hints of pale blue, mixed with purple and crimson, casting complex shadows on the sea below.

And again, within the sunset, he found himself recalling Illia's smile from the past.

That smile he had seen on their first date on Air Hunt Island, when they stood together at the observation deck.

He could still remember how that smile had pierced his heart.

The quiet stillness of the high-altitude sky brought back such sweet memories.

Kiyoaki shook his head, clearing his mind of thoughts unbefitting the battlefield.

He had discarded his humanity, his emotions, and everything else to reach this sky.

Now, the Kiyoaki who remained was nothing more than a machine, designed to eliminate enemies from the sky.

Soon enough—

The clouds parted.

Trailing vapor from its wingtips, the White Wolf emerged from the crimson sky, directly in front of Kiyoaki.

Illia spotted Kiyoaki circling at 7,000 meters and cautiously ascended to the same altitude.

At a distance of 1,000 meters, the Black Rabbit and White Wolf began circling in the same direction, as if waiting for the start of a mock dogfight.

Kiyoaki’s steel gaze locked onto Illia in the distance.

From her cockpit, Illia too cast a cold, sharpened gaze his way as she continued her right-hand turn.

They both understood what needed to be done.

In hindsight, this was probably their fate all along.

Carrying the weight of what they needed to protect, their paths had crossed here, with no way out.

From now on, they would discard everything that made them human.

They would become machines, focused only on eliminating the enemy from the sky.

Kiyoaki had to take down the White Wolf.

He had to bring down the enemy ace who was relentlessly shooting down his allies, dropping bombs on Misato, and burning innocent people to death.

—Here I come, White Wolf.

With his gaze alone, Kiyoaki conveyed his resolve.

—I'll take you down, Black Rabbit.

He thought he could hear Illia's silent response.

The White Wolf cut its wingtips.

In that instant, Kiyoaki pushed the control stick forward, opened the throttle, and charged toward the White Wolf’s tail.

At the same moment the White Wolf cut its wingtips, it lunged forward like a beast, rapidly closing the distance.

Kiyoaki's gaze fixed on the White Wolf's forehead.

With each aircraft tilted at a 30-degree angle, both Kiyoaki and Illia locked each other in their sights as they rapidly closed in for the head-on pass.

—The one who hesitates will die.

Kiyoaki unleashed his 20mm machine gun fire at Illia.

At the same time, Illia fired a bouquet of blazing tracer rounds at Kiyoaki.

Both pilots twisted their aircraft, narrowly dodging each other’s fire.

In that instant, they knew.

They knew that neither of them hesitated in their determination to turn the other into minced meat.

Kiyoaki gritted his teeth, enduring the internal pain.

This was the pain he had prepared himself for. There was no point in being rattled by it now.

But the emotional pain was far worse—thousands, even millions of times worse than the physical.

—I am a machine. Machines feel no pain.

Clenching his jaw, Kiyoaki suppressed his soul's anguish, pushing himself forward as a warrior of the sky.

—I will definitely bring down the White Wolf, Rensuke.

Calling out to his fallen wingman, who had died shielding him, Kiyoaki pointed his plane toward the enemy, seeking vengeance for his friend.

—Ryu. Captain Maolong. Your deaths will not be in vain.

—To the boy whose sister was killed by machine-gun fire. I will fulfill my promise to you.

With blazing eyes locked onto Illia, now a cold-hearted beast of steel, Kiyoaki closed the distance once again.

Beyond the windscreen, at 7,000 meters, the White Wolf was deftly aiming for Kiyoaki’s side.

The layer of clouds, spread wide across the sea at around 6,000 meters, suddenly appeared to Kiyoaki like a vast silver plain. Mounted on her Beo-Strike, like a noble knight riding a white steed, Illia—a fierce and dignified female warrior—charged toward him, her 20mm machine gun like a sword at the ready.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, like a knight of silver.

I must wield this massive 37mm cannon against that beautiful person. As she is a knight of the heavens, I too am a samurai of the sky.

Riding the fierce horse known as Ikaruga, Kiyoaki, like a samurai with a massive sword on his shoulder, charged straight at the knight of the sky.

Their swords clashed, sending sparks flying across the evening sky. Even a glancing blow from these strikes would be fatal. Clenching their teeth, both the knight and the samurai felt the weight of their weapons as they unleashed their honed battle techniques upon one another.

With each strike, they could feel the emotions they had carried within. Up here, far from the logic of the ground, a higher law connected the two of them.

A deep affection Kiyoaki couldn’t suppress burned within his chest. With each clash of swords with Illia, their long-buried feelings for each other surfaced.

The knight, avoiding a deadly slash with expert horsemanship, maneuverer her steed sideways, her face filled with pitiful sorrow yet brimming with fierce determination, and swung her sword toward the samurai’s side.

Had the blow landed, Kiyoaki’s organs would have spilled out into the sky. But he twisted his body just in time to avoid the deadly strike, though he knew his position had worsened.

He needed to put some distance between them.

Anticipating being attacked from behind, Kiyoaki lowered his nose. He had been caught off guard by Illia’s unfamiliar fighting technique.

—She is strong. Incredibly strong.

He etched that fact into his soul. Just as Kiyoaki had sharpened his skills by training with Ryu in the Kusanagi squadron, Illia too had grown immeasurably stronger through her many aerial battles.

—But I won’t lose. I will take you down... no matter what!

Encouraging himself, Kiyoaki retreated into the clouds hovering at 6,000 meters.

For some reason, Kiyoaki appeared to Illia as a samurai traversing a vast, white plain.

Carrying the massive sword that was his 37mm cannon, and riding the fierce horse known as Ikaruga, he galloped swiftly through the sky.

What a beautiful warrior. Illia found herself captivated by the samurai she had met at 7,000 meters, even as she raised her sword and continued to strike.

Their slashes crossed the sky over and over, tracing bright red lines in the air.

With each clash of swords, their emotions resonated across the space between them.

Illia felt the overwhelming sadness, the deep sorrow, and the pain hidden within the heart of the samurai facing her, flowing directly into her own heart.

Perhaps it was an illusion brought on by the oxygen deprivation from flying at such high altitudes. Illia didn’t mind if it was. As she fought, with a heart full of affection and tears she struggled to hold back, she found Kiyoaki’s perseverance, his quiet resolve to strike her down despite his feelings, unbearably endearing and lovable.

Illia too, held back her tears.

Tears had no place on this battlefield now. They were nothing more than impurities.

With the eyes of a hawk, she focused on the aerial manoeuvres, trying to predict Kiyoaki’s next move so she could counter it.

The samurai raised his great sword over his head and accelerated, preparing to bring down a fatal blow on Illia from above.

But Illia deftly dodged the attack with her reins, sliding her steed sideways while swinging her sword horizontally at the samurai’s flank.

It was a technique Illia had developed on her own through countless battles, a move never before seen. The samurai, caught off guard, lost his balance and, sensing his disadvantage, tried to pull away.

—I won’t let you.

Illia spurred her steed. With a high-pitched whine, the Beo-Strike charged across the silver plain, pursuing the samurai.

The samurai tried to escape by hiding in the mist of the plain.

—It’s futile.

Illia cast her sensory net over the battle zone.

Her sharpened consciousness filtered out all distractions and expanded over the entire area.

Through the veil of mist, she caught sight of Kiyoaki’s shadow.

In an instant, the White Wolf leaped forward.

Bursting through the clouds, Illia spotted the Black Rabbit weaving between the clouds on the blood-red horizon.

For some reason, even though the sun had already set beyond the horizon, the sky seemed unbearably bright.

The wavelength of light, from the reds in the west to the blues above, appeared strangely vivid and intense.

Even though she wore an oxygen mask, the effects of long exposure at high altitude were affecting her vision. As her wings cut through the clouds, they glittered with rainbow-colored light.

The gradient from red to blue, stretching from the western horizon to the zenith, seemed unusually clear and dazzling, the depth of colour impossibly sharp and pure. She had seen countless skies before, but this one seemed to belong to another dimension.

Perhaps this is what the heavens are like.

As she fought with Kiyoaki, it felt as though they had entered a world beyond the sky. The brilliant sunset, with its shimmering light in every wavelength, carried a sense of sacredness.

And in the midst of that ethereal sky, the Black Rabbit ran, trailing a rainbow behind it.

Illia pushed the throttle of the Beo-Strike to the maximum. The White Wolf leapt forward, closing in on the Black Rabbit, claws raised for a deadly strike.

The Black Rabbit dodged to the side. The White Wolf wouldn’t let it escape, immediately striking with a second claw. With each blow, the sky tore open, and from the gashes, rose-coloured particles spilled out.

—How beautiful, and yet, how cruel this sky is.

Illia thought, caught between the euphoria and sadness.

She had abandoned her humanity and become nothing more than a particle of the steel that made up her aircraft, yet still, these feelings surged within her.

It was as though the sky itself was gathering up the remnants of her humanity and showing it to her, reminding her that she was still human after all.

I’m supposed to be steel. I’m supposed to be a bullet. But why do these emotions keep tearing me apart inside?

—Kiyoaki, can you hear me?

As she unleashed her burning 20mm rounds at the one she loved, Illia spoke to him through the sky.

In this dreamlike sky, it didn’t matter if they were separated by space, if they were sealed within their cockpits.

Their hearts were merging into the sky.

She was becoming one with Kiyoaki.

She could feel it.

—I can hear you, Illia.

His response reached her. It was probably a hallucination born of her own desires, but that was okay, she thought.

—This sky is amazing. I’ve never seen light and colours like this.

The Ikaruga veered left. Illia kicked the foot bar and closed in on its tail. The roar of the propeller echoed loudly through the sky.

The desperate roar of the tail engine, struggling to escape, shook Illia’s canopy.

—Yeah. It’s unreal, isn’t it?

She drew closer. The wings of the Ikaruga filled her crosshairs. Kiyoaki tried to escape by weaving his aircraft side to side, but Illia anticipated his every move, refusing to let up.

—It’s strange. I keep remembering things from the past.

Her 20mm rounds tore through the rainbow-colored mist, exploding with devastating force. Explosive shells, incendiary rounds, armour-piercing rounds, and tracers all tore through the mist, chasing after the Black Rabbit.

—Me too. My memories keep flooding into my vision.

A stream of molten lava grazed the Black Rabbit. The fiery explosion of the rounds ignited the airspace.

—Do you remember the meteor shower we saw on the Eriadore airship?

The tail engine of the Black Rabbit spewed flames. It had been hit. Kiyoaki dropped into a steep 55-degree dive, trying to extinguish the flames through sheer speed.

—I’ve never seen anything like it. It was so beautiful.

The White Wolf wouldn’t let him escape. Even as the Black Rabbit entered a suicidal dive, the White Wolf followed, undaunted. The vast layer of clouds now filled the entire view through the canopy.

The G-forces pressed down on her with tremendous weight. Illia leaned forward and pressed the control stick. Blood pounded in her veins, but she kept her eyes fixed on the shadow of the Black Rabbit.

Trailing rainbow-colored contrails, Kiyoaki fled, and Illia locked him in her sights.

The vortex of light within her crosshairs swirled. The Ikaruga’s tail propeller cut through the mist, slicing the rainbow like ribbons. The wings, nearing their structural limits from the acceleration, whistled as they sang the song of the high skies.

—We used to always talk about aerial battles in the officer’s room.

Through the light and wind, beyond the clouds, Illia spotted the silver wings soaring ahead.

──I loved the tea you made.

I place my fingers simultaneously on the triggers of the 15mm and 20mm machine guns.

──I covered you with a blanket when you fell asleep at your desk.

6,000 meters in altitude. A dive of 1,000 meters. But Ikaruga doesn’t stop descending.

──That blanket... it was you, Illia. Thank you.

Illia doesn’t lose her target. She follows him. The moment he pulls up will be her chance.

──It’s okay. You gave me a piggyback ride, after all.

5,500 meters. 5,200. 5,000.

──I’d like to give you a piggyback ride again someday.

A massive dive of over 2,000 meters. For any pilot not as trained, they would have lost consciousness by now, but Ikaruga continues the rapid descent. The dive doesn’t end.

──I pretended to be drunk and pressed my cheek against yours.

The wings bend to their limits. The aircraft cannot handle any more descent. With her breathing apparatus strained to the max, Illia unleashes the full firepower of the Beo-Strike.

──I was happy. I wanted to keep walking with you on my back forever.

Four burning trails of light envelop Ikaruga.

Sparks scatter as the bullets graze the aircraft, punching holes in its fuselage. These are from the 15mm rounds.

──We can’t go back to those days, can we?

For a moment, Ikaruga tilts. It seems it’s been hit again, as new black smoke begins to stream toward Illia.

──It’s sad, but we have to keep moving forward.

Spewing spiralling black smoke, the wounded Black Rabbit tries to flee. Blood trickles from Illia’s lips. Her soul screams in agony, but she forces it down. She is no longer human; she is steel, a piece of a war machine.

Kiyoaki, wounded and desperately manoeuvring the damaged plane, begins to pull up. He aims for a slightly angled loop.

She can’t let that happen. Illia’s instincts tell her so.

──Why is God so cruel?

The wounded Kiyoaki is now aiming for a decisive strike that could change everything.

──There must be a reason for this, right?

Illia sets her cold, precise sights on Kiyoaki’s trajectory.

──Does God want us to fight and kill each other?

She unleashes a relentless barrage of machine gun fire that would surely destroy the cockpit of the Black Rabbit.

──Sometimes I think... maybe God doesn’t care about good or evil.

──Maybe what’s right or wrong doesn’t matter.

──Maybe God just wants to see us struggle in our suffering.

But Kiyoaki senses her pre-emptive shot. He kicks the foot bar hard, shifting his axis and finally manages to pull up.

──God’s got a cruel sense of humour.

As Ikaruga enters a slightly angled loop, the Beo-Strike stays right on its tail. Their shared instincts across the battlefield tell Illia exactly what Kiyoaki is aiming for.

The moment of finality is almost here.

──Maybe, after enduring this suffering, something new will be revealed.

There is only one manoeuvre left to exchange.

The Karsten Turn.

A legendary aerial manoeuvre that they practiced together countless times at the officer academy, now to be executed in this sky.

──It’s almost over, isn’t it?

Illia swallows her tears, chasing after the back of the beloved man ascending into the sky.

──Yes. One of us will die.

As the Black Rabbit reaches the peak of its angled loop, it enters a weightless zone perfect for executing the Karsten Turn.

This will decide everything.

One of us will perish in this sky.

But before that, just one thing.

I want to tell you my true feelings.

──I always wanted to stay by your side.

Tears stream down Illia’s cheeks. She’s supposed to be a machine now. She’s supposed to have lost her emotions. She gave up her humanity when she came to this sky, and yet still, her heart cries for the one she loves.

Through the tears, she sees Kiyoaki dancing in the heavens, leaving a trail of light behind him against the azure backdrop of a world beyond this one.

Droplets of water scatter in a frenzy. It’s as if the rainbow has shattered, with shimmering seven-coloured particles fluttering everywhere, dazzling her eyes to the point she has to squint.

What a beautiful turn.

I’ve never seen anyone fly like you.

Suspended in mid-air, as if in zero gravity, his aircraft floats as only the nose points directly at Illia’s flank.

What a perfect Karsten Turn.

──I loved you.

Kiyoaki’s voice reaches her, and her vision blurs as water clouds over her sight.

She can’t stop the tears.

If only she could cast away everything she carries and embrace him in her arms, soaring endlessly together through this pure sky.

But that dream won’t come true. So, instead, she’ll take the same step that he did.

Illia scans the sky and finds a small patch of light.

It’s the space necessary to execute the turn.

A narrow zone where deceleration and structural limits coincide, a boundary between realities.

She tilts the control stick, gently pressing the right foot bar, then slams down the left.

In an instant, immense gravity and inertia crush down on her cockpit.

Her ribs could shatter, and her internal organs could be crushed under the pressure.

But Illia keeps her eyes fixed.

She watches the dancing shadow of the Black Rabbit.

Her wings whisper to the man she first fell in love with.

──Forever, together.

The logic of the sky, surpassing the physical laws of the earth, takes hold of the Beo-Strike.

A spectrum of light radiates from the waltz shared by Kiyoaki and Illia.

Waves of light of every wavelength flood in from beyond the cockpit, wrapping around Illia.

Is this the flame of an explosion?

Or perhaps it is the light of Kiyoaki shattering into pieces.

Suddenly, her body feels light.

The crimson engulfs her surroundings.

It’s hot.

Everything is melting away.

I am disintegrating.

Becoming fragments of the sky.

──Illia.

A hand reaches out from the torrent of light.

Illia, too, stretches out her hand.

Their hands meet, clasping together.

──Kiyoaki.

Calling his name, Illia is engulfed by the flood of light.

The sky vanishes into the searing light. Her vision fades. As her consciousness slips away, the last thought she can form transforms into words.

──I won’t let go.

──I won’t let go.

──I love you.

──I love you.

The words they call to each other echo endlessly within the light...

“What... is this...?”

Inside the cockpit of her Murasame, Kagura found herself speechless at the sight she had just glimpsed.

She had been watching from the gap in the clouds, keeping an eye on Kiyoaki and Illia as they engaged in a duel at high altitude, even while she led her squadron.

Before long, she saw Kiyoaki, pursued by Illia, descend in a steep dive, taking two or three direct hits from armour-piercing rounds.

Kiyoaki entered a slightly angled loop and began to climb once more, with Illia following the same trajectory.

Unable to sit still any longer, Kagura ascended to follow them.

Breaking through the clouds, she looked up──

She saw Ikaruga and Beo-Strike perform a manoeuvre she had never seen before.

It was as if they were the only two dancing in zero gravity, executing an otherworldly aerial combat move.

In the next moment, mesmerized by the elegant trails they left in the sky, she witnessed the tail propellers the Ikaruga and the Beo-Strike’s front propellers collide, shattering in an instant.

The two planes tangled and fell, wings breaking off and scattering, before vanishing into the thick layer of clouds below.

“Kiyoaki! Illia!”

Calling their names, Kagura hurriedly dove into the cloud layer after them.

The clouds were dense. She couldn’t see them, even after breaking through the clouds. She searched around 1,000 meters in altitude, but there were too many broken clouds, and there was no sign of any parachutes.

Kagura bit her lip. She wanted to keep searching, but she had a crucial role to fulfill as the squadron commander. Believing that they were still alive, she pushed aside her lingering feelings and returned to the middle of the dogfight.

The sun had already set, and even the last remnants of light were fading. Soon, visibility would drop to zero. She called for her squadron to return to base on the radio, declaring the day’s battle a draw.

At that moment──

She spotted something far below: an airship.

It wasn’t from Urano, St Vault, or Akitsu, but an unfamiliar four-engine craft belonging to an unknown faction. For a civilian aircraft, it flew with surprising boldness through the battlefield, leisurely watching the dogfight. The pilot must have been extremely confident to believe they could escape, even if pursued by a fighter.

The airship noticed Kagura, turned its nose, and descended, hiding among the clouds. The sea below was dotted with islands of various sizes, offering plenty of landing spots for the airship to hide.

Though it tugged at her mind, she didn’t have the time to deal with it. Kagura returned to the battlefield to cover her comrades as they retreated to base.

The "man" gripped the control stick of the airship, watching as Kagura's Murasame turned and returned to the fray, relieved not to have been followed.

He then reflected on the aerial duel between the two aces he had just witnessed.

It was a brilliant exchange of battle skills. Both of them were destined to rise to the rank of "Sky King" one day, he was certain.

After their mid-air collision, he had followed their descent.

Once they broke through the cloud layer, he saw two white parachutes blossom in the distance.

The man breathed a sigh of relief, tracking their landing points.

One of them appeared to be unconscious, arms hanging limp as the wind carried them. The other seemed concerned for the unconscious one, adjusting their parachute to follow. Eventually, both of them landed on the same island.

Left alone, they would be stranded on that isolated island. There were nearly two hundred islands in this sea, making a search operation incredibly difficult.

Neither of them was the type of talent that should be left to waste away here.

They deserved a new sky to fly in.

They deserved a worthy master to serve.

He was certain that he could provide them with new wings. This situation was nothing short of divine providence.

Without hesitation, the man lowered the airship’s altitude, steering it toward the island where the two had landed.

Part 25 (Part 11 of Volume 6)

Following the ancient customs, the group completed their preparations for the move and departed from the Lamia Palace, heading for the Evangelis District.

Nina Viento, dressed in her white priestly robes, descended the mountain path by carriage. Following another customary ritual, she exited the carriage on the road leading to the royal palace in the airborne city of Pleiades, continuing her journey on foot along the rural path.

People lined the roadside, throwing words of blessing and showers of confetti at her. Without changing her expression, Nina walked steadily, followed by her close companions.

On December 12, Imperial Year 1349, in the Uranos capital city of Pleiades──.

Behind Nina followed Ulshyrra, with Ignacio marching next, leading thirty royal guards. Mio walked further back in the line of attendants, alongside Reiner.

Reiner placed his hands behind his head, gazing up at the clear sky and muttering cheerfully.

“This has become quite a mess, hasn’t it?”

Mio, glancing at him with dissatisfaction, scolded,

“Stop with the idle chatter. Put on a serious face.”

“Even so, I never imagined it would turn out like this. We’ve ended up serving one heck of a master, haven’t we?”

Despite his words, Reiner seemed to be enjoying the situation, wearing an even more carefree grin than usual.

“Be quiet. We're heading to an important place. Stop grinning.”

Mio pinched Reiner’s side, silencing him, before turning her attention back to the front of the procession. The royal palace was gradually drawing closer.

At the entrance to the Evangelis District, three state ministers, with the Uranos Air Force and Navy flags and the royal standard waving behind them, welcomed Nina.

They spoke to Nina in grand ceremonial language, and after receiving her consent, they turned to lead her on the path toward the Old Senate.

Nina, her posture upright and dignified, followed after the ministers.

In the city, royal guards in formal attire lined both sides of the road, guarding Nina. The people gathered along the streets, just like those in the countryside, offered blessings and tossed flower petals and confetti at Nina and her entourage.

Without waving, the group passed through the lively streets, making their way to the assembly hall.

Inside the stone-constructed, solemn chamber, the members of the Old Senate and the Lower House had gathered, awaiting Nina.

As Nina ascended the podium, a state minister announced the formal conferment of Uranos’ governance powers upon her.

Amidst the resounding applause, Nina accepted without hesitation the command of the entire Uranos military, the title of supreme ruler, the authority to propose policies, and the right to veto parliamentary decisions.

All the power to govern Uranos was now entrusted to Nina Viento. Should she so desire, she could even rule the entire world with the vast authority she now held.

Without changing her expression, Nina exited the chamber.

Outside in the plaza, tens of thousands of citizens awaited her.

It wasn’t official yet. The approval of the people was required.

Nina raised her head proudly and gazed out at the Pleiades citizens.

A state minister called out through a microphone:

"Citizens, if you approve of Nina Viento as your new ruler, respond with your cheers."

In the next instant, a deafening roar erupted from the tens of thousands of citizens, shaking the sky above Pleiades. The sound was so powerful it seemed to make the very atmosphere tremble, echoing over and over through the airborne city.

The state minister knelt before Nina, delivering the final decision.

"May the blessings of Saint Aldista be upon our Queen, Nina Viento."

Amidst the rising cheers, the whistling of fingers, and the confetti, Nina ascended to the throne of Uranos, her coronation surpassing even the enthusiasm of the people when King Ortega took the throne.

The waiting Pope Illustriali approached Nina, carrying the crown of approval.

As Nina knelt, the pope placed the Queen’s crown upon her head.

It was the coronation ceremony of Nina Viento, announcing that Uranos had entered a new era.

Slowly, Nina rose and faced the citizens, lifting the edge of her dress and stepping back to offer a bow. As the unceasing cheers continued to shake the sky, Nina gazed silently at the masses with calm eyes.

Mio, standing beside Ignacio in the shadows of the assembly hall, witnessed Nina's coronation.

Nina had truly become the Queen of Uranos. The authority she had just received was so immense that with a single command, she could move the entire military.

“Will this really go well?”

She asked Ignacio. The usually quiet knight simply closed his eyes and shook his head.

“The real challenge begins now.”

His sharp gaze remained fixed on Nina's back.

“Awaiting us are demons and monsters. There’s no way they’ll allow a newcomer to wield such great power so easily. They'll use every trick to hinder us. No matter what happens, I will protect Lady Nina, even if it costs me my life.”

Uncharacteristically for Ignacio, he voiced his determination in words. Now that they were entering Uranos’ royal palace, Nina's true battle was about to begin. It wasn’t hard to imagine the various obstructions that would come from the Demistri faction, who had been pushed into the shadows of the palace. There would likely even be threats to her life. As Ignacio had said, the real battle was about to start.

Mio nodded.

“...Yes. ...I want to be of help to Lady Nina too... because if it’s her, I’m sure she can change this world…”

In her determined gaze, the figure of Nina Viento, now the Queen of Uranos, seemed so small.

What kinds of fierce pressure, plots, and malicious schemes would soon rain down upon that elegant yet fragile back, Mio could not yet imagine.

But she resolved to stand by Nina, alongside their friends from Lamia Palace, no matter what hardships they would face. She loved Nina deeply—her gentle heart, her inner strength, and her determination to fulfill her role no matter how difficult the situation.

Because she believed that beyond it all, a wonderful future awaited…

A long dream unfolded.

In the officer’s room at the Air hunt Academy, I was lounging on a sofa, eating donuts with familiar friends.

Next to me, Balthazar was carefully brewing coffee for Cecil, while Kagura teased him. Across from us, Reiner and Kiyoaki were engrossed in their usual trivial chatter, while Mio was alone in the kitchen, boiling spaghetti.

Until last September, this was our everyday life.

A scene of the seven of us that I thought would last forever.

I took a sip of the coffee Balthazar made.

Then I realized Mio was no longer in the kitchen. The pot she had left on the stove was still boiling away.

I got up from the sofa to turn off the heat. With Mio gone, I had no choice but to finish making the spaghetti for everyone and returned to the sofa.

But when I sat down again, Kiyoaki and Kagura were gone.

Cecil looked up at me, puzzled, and asked why I had made spaghetti for seven.

“Because there are seven of us.”

As soon as I answered, Cecil disappeared as well.

I looked around, and Reiner, with an unfamiliar cold expression, cast a hateful glare at me before opening the door and leaving the officer’s room.

Now only Balthazar and I remained, him quietly drinking his coffee on the sofa.

“Mio. Kiyoaki.”

I called out the names of those who had disappeared.

“Kagura. Reiner. Cecil. Where did you all go? I made this for everyone.”

There was no reply.

Holding the large plate of spaghetti, I was left behind with Balthazar in the empty officer’s room.

The sound of an exploding fire jolted me awake.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with a sky full of stars.

Each of the thousands of stars had a different colour. They shone so closely together that it felt as though I could hear their voices calling to one another.

I heard the sound of waves gnawing at the sand.

I realized I was lying on my back on a night beach.

I’m alive.

That thought crossed my mind.

The warmth nearby was from a campfire. The orange flames flickered in the depths of the night.

Slowly sitting up, I checked my body for any abnormalities.

Then I looked across the fire.

There was Kiyoaki Sakagami, sitting on the beach, silently gazing out at the sea beyond the flames.

I touched my waist. My pistol was still in its holster.

With my right hand resting on the holster, I cautiously moved away from the fire, increasing the distance between us.

Kiyoaki, noticing I had awoken, turned to me with a quiet expression.

I crouched low like a leopard, leaping back quickly as I drew my pistol, aiming it directly at him.

Kiyoaki said nothing, simply looking at the pistol pointed at him.

“You killed Captain Leo.”

I forced the words out.

“You killed Lulu and Lala.”

I prayed he wouldn’t notice the trembling in my voice.

“You killed so many of my comrades.”

Kiyoaki still didn’t move, remaining seated.

Beyond the fire, he seemed to flicker as if he were no longer part of this world.

“Yeah. I killed them.”

He wasn’t joking. His calm tone made that clear.

I aimed the shaking barrel of my pistol between Kiyoaki’s eyebrows and placed my finger on the trigger.

This was the enemy who had killed many of my comrades.

If I let Kiyoaki live, many more of my allies would be shot down.

Hate him. Kill him. Avenge Leo, Lulu, and Lala.

Just as I was about to force myself into action—

──Even if we find ourselves on opposing sides, we will never hate each other.

──Friendship is eternal.

That vow echoed in my ears.

My right arm trembled.

There was no way I could pull the trigger.

It couldn’t end like this.

“Bang.”

In a careless tone, Kiyoaki mimicked the sound of a gunshot with his mouth.

I tossed the pistol onto the sand, looking at Kiyoaki with a face that was about to burst into tears as I spoke.

“With that shot, you’re dead. Sakagami Kiyoaki of the Kusanagi Squadron is listed as missing in action. My condolences.”

Kiyoaki gave a faint smile.

He then made the shape of a gun with his fingers, pointed it at my forehead, and mimicked a gunshot.

“And Illia Kreischmidt of the Voltec Squadron is also missing in action. My condolences.”

I shrugged and raised both hands toward the starry sky, then sat down next to the fire.

We sat across from each other by the campfire, in silence, staring at the night sea and the stars.

If we stayed like this on this island, we would truly be marked as missing. Both Illia and Kiyoaki would be considered dead, and their families would receive compensation and pensions, with graves erected in their hometowns.

I had just been shot dead by Kiyoaki.

Thinking that, all the burdens I had been carrying seemed to disappear from around me.

No homeland, no comrades, no enemies to defeat—nothing remained.

It was just Illia Kreischmidt, alone, watching the night sea. That frenzied battlefield was gone, and now a vast, serene night sky showered the two of us with three thousand stars on this quiet beach.

Wrapped in a cocoon of silence, the sound of the tides and my own heartbeat alternated, growing louder. The pulse inside me quickened.

I didn’t want Kiyoaki to hear the sound of my racing heart.

Recalling the conversation we’d exchanged during our duel in the skies, I couldn’t help but blush.

Was that some kind of hallucination?

It felt too real to be just a dream. It truly felt as though Kiyoaki and I had melted into one and were speaking to each other.

──What would he say if I asked him about it?

That thought welled up, and I glanced at Kiyoaki through the fire.

At the same moment, Kiyoaki also looked at me through the flames.

Our eyes met by chance, and both of us turned bright red before looking down in embarrassment.

Afraid that my heartbeat would be heard, I buried my face in my knees.

──It must’ve been a hallucination. There’s no way we could have had that conversation, sitting separately in our cockpits.

──It was just my wishful thinking. There’s no way I could ask Kiyoaki about it…

I forcibly convinced myself of that. I felt awkward, ashamed, and foolish. I could manoeuvre a plane freely, but I had no idea how to handle my own emotions.

──I love you.

──I love you.

Those voices we exchanged in the final moments of our duel echoed again in my ears. Just remembering that raw and utterly exposed confession made me want to squirm in embarrassment. It was too Humiliating to face Kiyoaki directly.

Perhaps trying to ease the awkwardness, Kiyoaki broke the silence.

“…What should we do now?”

I tried to calm my nerves and raised my flushed face.

“…Do you think rescue will come?”

Kiyoaki paused, deep in thought, before answering.

“If they come, we’ll be separated again.”

Whether it was from St Vault or Akitsu, once we were rescued, we wouldn’t be able to stay together. We’d be thrown back into the sky, forced to fight another battle like today.

“I’m done with it. I don’t want to fight you anymore…”

I accidentally let out my true feelings.

“…Me neither. …I can’t do it anymore…”

Why do we have to fly and fight in the sky, enduring such pain?

"What should we do now...?"

The path ahead was unclear.

There was nowhere to go.

If we stayed on this island, we wouldn't have to fight anymore. But would that really be enough? Even now, while we sit here, our comrades bound by the oath are out there pursuing their dreams. Meanwhile, are we supposed to stay here, shutting our eyes and ears to the world, living by catching fish and gathering wild herbs? Is that really why I was trained to pilot flying machines from such a young age?

No.

My destiny is to fly.

But there's no one to entrust these wings to.

No cause worthy enough to devote my entire life to.

"I want someone I can entrust my wings to."

I spoke my feelings aloud, addressing Kiyoaki. He nodded.

"If it's not for my homeland, but for something else... I could still fly."

Since we were declared missing in action and lost our homeland, perhaps it's alright to seek out a freer sky.

But where should we go?

What should we do?

Lost and unable to see the path forward, just then—

From behind us, the sound of sand crunching echoed. A tall figure slowly emerged from the grass.

"...?!"

Both Kiyoaki and I turned around in surprise.

The man noticed the campfire and the figures sitting beside it.

"So, here you are. I've been looking for you."

Kiyoaki seemed to recognize the voice. As I instinctively moved to grab my pistol, he held me back with one hand.

"You are...!!"

The man slowly approached the fire.

He was dressed in a black long coat with flight gear underneath. His long hair was tied back, and his face had sharp, knife-cut features, with piercing eyes that seemed too intense.

"I'm here to capture you."

Without carrying any weapons, the man said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't resist. Get on my aircraft. I'll take you to my master. After that, you can decide what to do."

Kiyoaki called out the man's name in a trembling voice.

"Master Akmed."

Akmed, the "King of the Sky," who had taught young Kiyoaki how to fly, now stood before us. He was one of the greatest aces of the archipelago seas, alongside Urano’s Karnasion, and he was now extending a hand of rescue to both Kiyoaki and me.

"When you meet her, you will swear eternal loyalty."

Akmed smiled with certainty as he looked at Kiyoaki and me.

"Elisabeth Sylvania."

Akmed offered a hand to the seated Kiyoaki, helping him stand.

"She is my master. She will entrust you with new wings."

It was as if Akmed could see the future, speaking with such confidence.

At that moment, for some reason, I saw a banner waving behind Akmed.

It was the banner of the most powerful fighter squadron in the world, assembled and trained by Akmed himself.

"The Valkyries."

"Come with me. Fly for Queen Elisabeth."

I took Amed’s outstretched hand in mine.

Together with Kiyoaki, I envisioned a future where we donned the combat uniforms of the Valkyries, flying planes unlike any I had ever seen, ruling the skies pointed out by Queen Elisabeth.

END VOL 6

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