Toaru Hikuushi e no Yasoukyoku:Chapter3

Chapter 3: The Demon Dog

An iron mass exceeding 30,000 tons sprouted flames from the gaps in its torn steel Armor, plummeting toward the sea.

What spilled from the shattered hull were the crew members. Approximately eight hundred sailors aboard the ill-fated heavy cruiser airship, either tumbled out of the ship or were burned by flames inside, plunging headlong from an altitude of 4,000 meters toward the deep blue sea amidst cries of despair.

It was a cruiser airship of the Holy Levamme Empire's Navy (the Imperial Navy). Departing from Guardia Base as the flagship of a bomber formation for an air superiority mission, they were met with the same outcome as before—a sky of defeat where they couldn't lay a finger on the Imperial Amatsukami Navy (the Heavenly Empire Navy) base.

Even the Imperial Navy's latest fighter, the Aries III, couldn't match the Shinden. This bombing mission consisted of two heavy cruisers and thirty-five bombers escorted by forty Aries III fighters. Despite being a grand offensive formation, they were thoroughly scattered by about thirty Shinden that took off to intercept them. The delayed arrival of the Heavenly Empire's dive bombers and torpedo bombers led to devastating bomb hits.

Following the first ship, three oxygen air torpedoes struck the belly of the second heavy cruiser.

The July sky roared. A massive explosion was followed by the swaying of the 120-meter giant. Steel armour shattered, and flames burst upward, setting the sky ablaze. Without a moment's delay, relentless dive bombings were added one after another. Like the fighter squadron, the Heavenly Empire's bomber pilots were seasoned veterans, and their aim was unparalleled in accuracy, raining down incessantly on the heavy cruiser's vital spots. There was no way to withstand it. Soon, flashes streaked across the airspace, explosions erupted, and crimson flames stretched out like octopus legs in all directions. From beneath the flames, fine metal debris, fragments, and even parts of human bodies fell like hail. Not a single crew member survived; they had no choice but to share the fate of their ship. It was an utterly brutal end for a flying warship.

Breaking through the vast explosions left by the two heavy cruisers, the Shinden formation raised triumphant shouts. They were unstoppable. There was no ally more reliable for the Heavenly Empire, and no enemy more troublesome for the Imperial Navy. The sky where the Shinden flew was always painted in the colours of the Heavenly Empire.

The thirty-five enemy bombers, now without the escort of heavy cruiser airship and Aries III fighters, had no means left. Abandoning their mission to bomb Sechihara Base on Scion Island, they jettisoned their bombs into the sea and turned to flee at full speed.

However, the pilots of the Otonashi Air Corps did not let them escape. Competing with each other for the number of kills, they wanted to shoot down even one more plane than their comrades. Easily catching up with the slow-moving bombers, they swiftly cleared the skies using their honed combat skills.

It was such an overwhelming victory that the victors almost felt pity.

The pilots of the Otonashi Air Corps were all mighty warriors, each worth a thousand men, and they overwhelmingly surpassed the enemy in aircraft performance. In the frontline of the Central Sea War, at Sechihara Base where they had been stationed for about half a year, they had secured victories in almost all aerial battles.

—In aerial combat, I don't feel like we can lose.

After confirming that the last bomber beyond the windshield had turned into ripples on the sea surface, Special Duty Lieutenant Takeo Chijiwa pointed his aircraft toward Sechihara Airfield on Scion Island.

—In aerial combat... that is.

A faint melancholy crossed his mind. Regripping the control stick, he cruised through the clear blue sky devoid of enemies.

After their victory in the Battle of Victoria Sea, they had moved to Sechihara Base last December. The season was already summer. Beyond the horizon, large cumulonimbus clouds stretched leisurely, as if oblivious to the war. The silhouette of Scion Island, with its green fringing reefs, came into view over the crystal-clear sea where schools of fish were visible even from the aircraft. The first runway of Sechihara Airfield appeared at the edge of his vision, and Chijiwa safely landed on the red-soil runway from which he had repeatedly taken off and returned.

He proceeded to the aviation command post to report his number of kills to Commander Kazuki Shirase.

"I shot down three fighters and five carrier-based bombers."

In response to Chijiwa's report, Commander Shirase replied with a cheerful smile.

"Your number of kills has exceeded one hundred and fifty."

"Sir!"

"With today's total, your confirmed kills are one hundred and fifty-two. According to interrogations of prisoners, the Nexus Air Corps calls you the 'Demon Dog of Scion Island.' It seems their commander personally instructs them to avoid dogfights if they encounter the Demon Dog."

"It's an honour."

"Having an ace whose name even the enemy knows is invaluable. Instilling fear is part of our job. I look forward to your continued efforts."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm truly sorry for not allowing you proper rest during these six months. The General Staff is reconsidering resupply methods, but crossing the Great Waterfall to assemble transport ships seems to be quite a challenge. It's not much, but please accept this as an apology."

Commander Shirase prompted his accompanying aviation officer, handing Chijiwa three large bottles of sake suspended by cords.

"I'm grateful."

Feeling the general's consideration, Chijiwa gratefully took the gifts in hand. Although he disliked superiors, he was fond of this kind-hearted commander who cared for his subordinates. Non-commissioned officers also secretly called Brigadier General Shirase "Oyaji" (Old Man) and admired him.

That night, a party was held in the spacious yard in front of the barracks. Despite it being night-time, there was no blackout enforced, and no one complained about openly lighting fires. Both the Imperial and Heavenly Empire navies seemed inept at night bombing, so surprise attacks often occurred at dawn or dusk.

The Otonashi Air Corps, operating from Sechihara Base on Scion Island, was an aviation unit of about three thousand personnel, comprising fighter squadrons, bomber squadrons, torpedo squadrons, maintenance units, and other ground units. The prestigious fighter squadron consisted of about a hundred carefully selected pilots, who engaged in constant aerial battles in the frontline San Helena Sea area, where the Imperial and Heavenly Empire navies clashed.

The Imperial Navy, stationed just three hundred kilometres away at Guardia Base in the Cantabria Islands, had also deployed the Nexus Air Corps—an elite unit composed of similarly selected pilots—to counter the Otonashi Air Corps. Since the Heavenly Empire Navy advanced to Scion Island about half a year ago, days without aerial battles had become rare, and both air corps continued to stain the San Helena Sea with the blood of their comrades. So far, the sorrowful flowers that bloomed were almost entirely coloured by the Imperial Navy's losses.

The sake Chijiwa had received acted as a catalyst, prompting other pilots to bring out their hidden rations of alcohol and snacks, turning the gathering into a sizable party. Friendly crew members invited familiar maintenance personnel and radio operators, and they shared cold drinks to dispel the warm summer night's air.

"Oh, what's this? You all seem to be having fun. Mind if I join?"

Lieutenant Shinichi Hasami, the squadron leader of the Otonashi Air Corps, joined the circle of non-commissioned officers with a bottle of shochu in hand. The pilots welcomed their superior warmly, diving into boasting about recent aerial battles. Officer aircrew were often disliked by non-commissioned officers for being unnecessarily arrogant, but Hasami was a well-liked superior. He was unpretentious, friendly, and generous. He would let nearby maintenance soldiers smoke officer-exclusive cigars, laughing heartily as they coughed.

Sharing the same fire, Chijiwa and his wingmen—Heisuke Sugino and Taichi Matsuda—were present. Matsuda asked Hasami:

"Is it true that the Empire has a new king?"

Due to the information gap between officers and non-commissioned officers, such informal gatherings were the only opportunities for the latter to obtain accurate big-picture information. Across the fire, Hasami nodded deeply.

"It's true. About ten days ago, Emperor Figaro passed away, and yesterday, the coronation ceremony was held. The new emperor of the Levamme Empire, Carlo Levamme, has ascended the throne."

"I've heard the new emperor is quite the fool."

"Indeed. To be precise... he's an unprecedented fool. For us, having a foolish king at their helm is advantageous. But if he's too incompetent, he might be overthrown. Ideally, he'd remain inept and stay in power indefinitely."

As Chijiwa listened from the sidelines, Sugino approached to pour him a drink.

"Lieutenant, splendid work today!"

With the brightest smile imaginable, he continued:

"Recently, my number of kills has increased significantly!"

Chijiwa downed the cold sake in one gulp.

"What's your count?"

"Twenty-two, sir!"

"Impressive," Chijiwa murmured deeply.

"It's all thanks to your guidance, Lieutenant!"

"I see. You've surpassed twenty kills. Time for you to graduate from being my wingman."

"Uh...?"

"You're now a veteran since the war began. You should consider leading your own wingmen."

"M-Me, a squad leader!? I wish to continue as your wingman, Lieutenant, dedicating myself entirely..."

"Silence."

"Yes, sir!"

Chijiwa turned to his other wingman sitting beside Sugino, Taichi Matsuda.

"Matsuda, what's your kill count?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

A composed voice replied. The hot-blooded Sugino and the calm Matsuda were affectionately known as "SugiMatsu" among the Otonashi Air Corps. When they first formed a squad, they were the youngest in the air corps at nineteen, but now they were twenty. The youthful innocence had faded from their expressions, replaced by the keen sharpness of warriors of the sky.

"I see. You've both come a long way..."

Chijiwa gazed at his two wingmen with deep emotion.

It's been a year and a half since the Central Sea War began. Pilots who had fought on the front lines since the beginning were all considered veterans. Sugino and Matsuda were now leading pilots of the air corps. In the vast three-dimensional space, moving freely at speeds over 500 kilometres per hour, accurately hitting and destroying enemy aircraft was a kind of miracle. Over the past year and a half, both had performed this miracle over twenty times. They were now respectable samurai of the skies.

They couldn't remain his wingmen forever.

It was time for them to become squad leaders and lead others into battle.

With this in mind, Chijiwa called out to his colleague across the fire.

"Hey, Hasami. Isn't it about time to assign subordinates to these two?"

He nodded toward his wingmen on either side, speaking magnanimously. Sugino and Matsuda were taken aback.

"But Lieutenant, that's..."

"We wish to continue as your wingmen..."

"Quiet. What do you think, Hasami?"

Chijiwa fixed his colleague with a sharp gaze. Hasami stroked his chin, staring into the void.

"Just between us... actually, the idea of promoting SugiMatsu to squad leaders has come up multiple times in the command post."

"Oh?"

Chijiwa hadn't heard of this. Uninterested in officer gossip, he was unaware of personnel matters.

"However, the achievements of your squad are outstanding. No one can replicate the formation manoeuvres of you three. It's a significant threat to the enemy. Your surpassing 150 kills is also thanks to SugiMatsu's support."

"Of course. My score isn't mine alone."

At Chijiwa's words, his wingmen's faces lit up. Being praised by their respected leader was reward enough for SugiMatsu.

"That's why the staff officers concluded there's no need to separate a squad achieving such results. Rather than forcing SugiMatsu to lead others, they'd prefer you continue fighting together. That's the consensus in the command post."

Sugino and Matsuda nodded enthusiastically, smiling.

"Yes! I still want to learn aerial combat techniques from you, Lieutenant!"

"Me too. I'm satisfied with my current role."

"Hmm..." Chijiwa grumbled, sipping his cold sake and gazing into the flames.

"But you can't remain wingmen forever..."

"It's no problem! I'll be your wingman until this war ends, Lieutenant!"

Sugino declared cheerfully, more enthusiastic than ever. Unsure how to respond, Chijiwa's face twisted in discomfort.

"...I acknowledge your value in combat, but spare me the overzealousness."

"Understood! I'll keep it cool!"

He clearly didn't get it. Chijiwa's face contorted further as he turned away from Sugino, focusing on the fire and continuing to drink.

The conversation continued. Each pilot was engrossed in sharing their war stories—how they shot down enemy planes, the predicaments they faced, and how they overcame them. The tales were filled with vigour, often underestimating the Imperial Navy. While underestimating the enemy should be cautioned against, after a year and a half of consecutive victories, it was perhaps understandable.

However, there was something that had been bothering him for some time.

—The enemy's numbers aren't decreasing.

No matter how many times they won or how many planes they shot down, the Imperial Navy kept assembling the same number of bombers to attack again. This had always been the case, but in the past month or two, it had become increasingly apparent. The seemingly endless reserves of the Nexus Air Corps were becoming evident.

Even if they shot down thirty planes today, the enemy would leverage their industrial power to deploy thirty-five new aircraft to the front lines. No matter how many aerial victories they achieved, by the next day, the enemy would replenish their losses and even bolster their forces—it was relentless.

Rumour had it that while the Heavenly Empire invested a thousand hours of training to develop a single pilot, the Imperial Navy sent theirs into battle after just three hundred hours. Their fighters were simplified for easier operation by less skilled pilots. Lacking the overwhelming aerial combat capabilities of the Shinden, their aircraft were heavily armoured, less prone to catching fire when hit, and designed to protect pilots' lives. Even mediocre pilots, shielded by thick armour and deployed en masse, could surround and shoot down a single skilled pilot.

The number of operational aircraft was decreasing—not for the losing Imperial Navy, but for the supposedly winning Heavenly Empire. Even in today's overwhelming victory, he had seen about three Shinden go down. While they had shot down over thirty enemy planes—a ten-to-one ratio—their own minor losses were hard to replace.

—We're losing more allies.

In the Heavenly Empire Navy, only exceptional talents who passed rigorous examinations could become pilots. Those who stood out among them were assigned to the Otonashi Air Corps, undoubtedly the world's strongest air corps at present. Yet, even these invincible warriors, each worth a thousand men, were falling daily, like missing teeth in a comb.

Their unbroken string of victories since the war's onset was beginning to wane.

Meanwhile, ominous rumblings echoed from beyond the western sea.

Like awakening a slumbering giant, the shadow of overwhelming enemy resources loomed over the battlefield.

Chijiwa could sense it.

—An armed horde of weak soldiers will eventually engulf a small group of elite swordsmen.

Levamme's strategy is a war of attrition that leverages their overwhelming resources. The Imperial Army desires a "decisive battle" where both sides concentrate their available forces to settle the score, but Levamme refuses to step into that ring. Instead, they draw the enemy deep into their own territory, gradually tormenting them and wearing down their strength over time, turning it into a war of attrition. The one likely wielding the baton is the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army, Nimitz, who just took over six months ago. And the Naval Commander appointed by Nimitz, the "Fierce General" Bardot, has yet to show any sign of activity. It was unsettling that Bardot, who scorned other races to the point of brutality and boasted fervent patriotism and aggressive combat spirit, had shown no movement in the six months since his appointment.

The day when the war will end is nowhere in sight.

The Otonashi Air Corps continues to fight on the front lines.

Days filled solely with aerial battles are both enjoyable and tinged with sorrow.

A communications soldier sitting around the fire began to speak, bit by bit, about the enemy communications he intercepted during today's aerial battle.

"What I picked up was radio communication between bombers. They kept calling a name—'Ted, Ted'—over and over. Perhaps their friend was shot down. Listening to that voice, I... felt indescribable."

"Sorry," the communications soldier said, taking a swig of his drink despondently.

Even the battle-hardened fighter pilots were moved when they heard such stories.

With each aerial battle, they began to realize that human beings were aboard the enemy aircraft they shot down.

Just like themselves, the enemy also had families, friends, and lovers. Each passing day, they began to wonder why they had to kill people they didn't even hate.

"Well... it's war. Can't be helped. Our comrades are being killed too. It's mutual," someone said.

Someone said that, and to shake off the gloom, they began to engage in silly talk. Everyone was suffering, burdened by contradictions, but no matter how much they agonized, an individual's thoughts wouldn't affect the big picture. It's easy to become depressed, but that only increases the sadness and doesn't mean much. In that case, isn't it wiser to at least try to stay cheerful? That was an unspoken agreement among the members.

Then, from a group gathered around a distant fire, a voice calling Chijiwa was heard.

It was a voice he wasn't used to hearing. Maybe new recruits. Lately, though just a few at a time, new pilots had been replenishing the Otonashi Air Corps.

"Takeo—where are you? We've come too; aren't you going to welcome us?"

It was a somewhat carefree, boyish voice. The other members exchanged puzzled glances.

Only Chijiwa stood up. And unusually, his stony expression softened.

"Kannonji! Mido! You guys came!"

Chijiwa ran toward the two men calling his name. One was a boyish-looking small man, and the other was a tall, slender youth nearly 190 centimetres tall, taller than Chijiwa. The surrounding pilots looked even more puzzled; it was rare to see Chijiwa show such open joy.

"Takeo, I hear you're already an ace, huh? I'm jealous," said the boyish one called Kannonji, looking up at Chijiwa with a friendly smile.

The grinning, boyish one called Kannonji looked up at Chijiwa familiarly. The other, the tall young man called Mido, looked down at Chijiwa and said,

"I'm only at three kills so far. I lack experience in aerial combat. I'd appreciate your guidance, Sensei Chijiwa," he said in a deep voice.

He said that in a subdued tone. Chijiwa was surprised.

"You shot down three planes on your first sortie? Impressive. Once you get the hang of it, you guys will quickly increase your kill count."

Chijiwa spoke warmly to the two men, clearly delighted. He then introduced the two new pilots to the members of the Otonashi Air Corps.

"First-generation Yokaren graduates, Hideaki Kannonji and Nagaomi Mido. The small one is Kannonji, and the big one is Mido. They're my peers; we always competed in grades."

Upon the introduction, all the non-commissioned officer pilots present hurriedly stood up and saluted.

Just being first-generation Yokaren graduates was enough to inspire awe among the non-commissioned officers. They had passed selection exams with a success rate of one in 150 and were considered the most capable among current pilots. While second, third, and fourth generations of Yokaren trainees were produced afterward, many were those who failed the first exam, and the first generation was considered the most outstanding in terms of talent. The fact that these two had competed with Chijiwa meant they were top-class even among the first generation. It's safe to assume their skills rivalled Chijiwa's.

Kannonji, grinning and lacking any hint of intensity, introduced himself in a mellow voice.

"Up until now, I was on the Hida, and Mido here was on the Settsu, flying observation planes. We're young with only four kills, so please take care of us."

His tone lacked any spirit, but upon hearing that they were observation plane pilots from the Hida and Settsu, everyone was taken aback.

The two super-dreadnought flying battleships "Hida" and "Settsu," which the Imperial Amatsukami proudly presented to the world.

An observation plane is a three-seater seaplane that approaches enemy fleets closely to observe the fall of friendly artillery shells and sends various necessary data for bombardment to the command post. To observe the fall of shots while avoiding being shot down by enemy escort fighters requires exceptional piloting skills. The fact that they were entrusted with the observation planes of the two great battleships, which could be called the face of the Imperial Navy, speaks volumes about their abilities. Furthermore...

"You flew observation planes on the Hida and Settsu... and have four kills!?" Sugino shouted excitedly.

A stir ran through those around them. Everyone shared the surprise that Chijiwa had felt earlier.

The Hida and Settsu had their maiden battle at the Battle of Victoria Sea six months ago and had experienced only one naval battle. During that time, these men, Kannonji and Mido, flew observation planes and shot down four and three enemy aircraft, respectively.

Observation planes are packed with heavy measuring instruments and communication equipment for accurate observation and have seaplane floats attached to both wings for storage on battleships. While they have a front machine gun as a token armament, they are not equipped to engage fighter aircraft. The weight of the aircraft becomes a handicap in aerial combat. It's like fighting enemy planes while hanging weights all over your body. Moreover, since their role is to get close to enemy territory and report, they were likely surrounded and attacked by Aries II fighters. Just surviving that is astounding, yet these men managed to shoot down enemy aircraft.

"During our Yokaren days, I was beaten by these guys in mock aerial battles several times. I can vouch for their skills," Chijiwa added, sealing the deal.

An even greater stir arose, and eyes filled with admiration were already directed at Kannonji and Mido.

"That's encouraging. It's like we have two more Chijiwas."

"Well then, let's have a drink first. Please come over here and tell us about the Hida and Settsu."

The members of the Otonashi Air Corps offered cups to Kannonji and Mido, happily welcoming the new reinforcements.

"I can't handle alcohol. Do you have any orange juice?" Kannonji said.

"I'll have strawberry milk," said Mido.

At the requests of the new assets, the air corps members were once again impressed.

"You can drink orange juice on the Hida?"

"And strawberry milk too?"

"Yes. After all, it's the Settsu Hotel," Mido replied proudly.

Eyes filled with envy were directed at Mido, who answered proudly. The Hida and Settsu were equipped with top-class onboard facilities, so they were called the "Hida Hotel" and "Settsu Hotel." Sighs of "It's really like a hotel...", "It must be nice to live in a hotel every day," and "I want to live in a hotel too" were heard. Many non-commissioned officers were poor country folk, so they longed for the very sound of the word "hotel."

"Unfortunately, we don't have such things here. You'll have to make do with water, sake, or coconut," Hasami said with a wry smile, responding to his new talented subordinates.

A quick-thinking non-commissioned officer slipped into the nearby palm grove, climbed up the trunks, and dropped two fresh coconuts. He split them with a large knife and offered them to the two.

"Wow, this is delicious," Kannonji said.

"Yes, not bad at all," Mido agreed.

Tasting the flavour of Scion Island, Kannonji and Mido became members of the Otonashi Air Corps.

The feast continued—

Around them, perhaps due to the alcohol taking effect, some began singing bizarre songs or performing foolish dances, while others headed out to the entertainment district on the outskirts of the base—a place where women from the homeland offered brief respite. After finishing reminiscing with his old friends, Chijiwa left the circle alone, wandering around the Sechihara base at night with a bottle of sake in one hand.

Without any particular destination, letting his feet and the intoxication guide him, he found himself at the beach before he knew it. A bright red full moon was out, tinting the sea surface a faint red.

The sound of waves biting at the sandy beach mingled with the warm sea breeze. The night air was filled with the scent of the sea. They said you could even see sea turtles nesting around here. If not for the war, this island would have been just a peaceful, pleasant southern island.

Now, however, this sea was stained with the remains of flesh, blood, and steel machines.

When the war had just begun, he had fought recklessly, that's all.

Aerial combat itself was a joy. Every time he shot down an enemy plane, he felt an indescribable exhilaration.

However, when that life continued for a year and a half, and he realized it would continue for much longer, what brushed against Chijiwa's heart was emptiness.

—Having shot down 152 planes.

—Means he had killed at least as many people.

Chijiwa stared intently at his own hands. Among the enemy planes he had shot down, there were many two-seater carrier-based bombers and three-seater torpedo bombers; he had also shot down about four large bombers carrying ten people each. He thought the number of people he had likely killed was close to two hundred.

—Am I not a mass murderer?

He painfully realized that fact now. The red moonlight fell upon his palms, making them look as if they were covered in blood.

No matter how much he agonized, it wasn't a problem with an answer. If he didn't kill the enemy, he would be killed. "It's war; can't be helped"—he could only accept it. It was foolish to suffer over such things at this point.

A fighter plane is a machine designed to shoot down enemy planes.

It's not the same as birds' wings. Steel wings fly in the sky to kill people. The fact that he, who was once just a worker in an underwater coal mine, could now make a living flying like this was thanks to war as a national enterprise. If there were no war, the country wouldn't need to spend large sums to train so many pilots.

—Flying to kill. Continuing to fly.

He thought that was fine. Agonizing over this was a weakness. Having shot down 150 planes and killed over 200 people, it was too late to repent. Shoot down as many enemy planes as he could, and someday he would be shot down too. As a way of life for a samurai of the sky, that was the natural form.

He looked up at the starry sky.

The eternal starlight turned the night into something ethereal.

The sound of the waves was gentle. As he walked alone on the beach, memories of past battles naturally welled up from his heart, flowed away, and new memories came.

He had experienced over a hundred aerial battles. He didn't remember each one, but there were many unforgettable fights. He had prepared for death more than once or twice.

However, there was only one battle that left the most intense impression.

The one and only defeat etched into this sky.

—Seagull.

It's been a year since then.

Even now, the only time he had lost an aerial battle was that one time.

Since then, despite experiencing over a hundred aerial battles, he continued to seek Seagull's aircraft silhouette in the sky.

—But he was nowhere to be found.

He hadn't heard any news of such a skilled pilot.

The Nexus Air Corps in the Cantabria Islands, which the Otonashi Air Corps was fighting, was said to be a group of Levamme's elite pilots. It was the Imperial Navy's plan to gather only the best to oppose the Imperial Amatsukami in skill. So it wouldn't be surprising if Seagull was in the Nexus Air Corps. Just as Chijiwa was called the "Demon Dog," the name "Seagull" should be resounding.

Yet, he never heard such a name.

—Did he die...?

—Or was he erased?

Over the past year, every time he thought of Seagull, that concern lingered.

Then Chijiwa shook his head side to side, shaking off that worst thought.

It's too early to despair; it's possible he's assigned to a completely different air corps, waiting for a transfer to the front lines. The battlefield of the Central Sea War is vast. Besides here, fierce aerial battles are unfolding in places like Est Miranda Island in the north. Seagull might be deployed in that area, or perhaps assigned to an aircraft carrier's air wing in a carrier task force. There's no reason he must be in the Nexus Air Corps.

Seagull is still flying somewhere. His wings are not broken. He had to believe that.

He stopped his feet on the sandy beach and gazed at the night horizon.

—I will shoot you down with my own hands.

He was the first opponent Chijiwa earnestly felt that way about.

In the night sky bathed in crimson moonlight, Seagull's salute emerged.

If he was a samurai, then Seagull was a Levamme knight.

He wanted to settle things honourably, each piloting a fighter.

He wanted to have a duel like in ancient battlefields—two pilots representing their respective armies facing each other head-on, without interference from anyone else, deciding who was stronger.

He knew such a thing was a pipe dream.

In modern warfare, where multiple combat mechanisms cantered around steel machines operate in coordination, individuals announcing themselves and duelling one-on-one couldn't happen. The moment you announce yourself, you'd be surrounded and riddled with bullets—that's the reality of the battlefield.

But still, even though he knew that.

—I want to duel Seagull one more time.

—Isn't it okay for such a breeze to blow through this damned battlefield?

He couldn't suppress such a childish wish.

As he drew Seagull's phantom into the red night sky, Chijiwa quietly relished that one defeat from the summer a year ago.

The Next Morning—

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Run! Run!"

The same cries as yesterday enveloped Sechihara Airfield. The clanging of alarm bells disturbed the crisp morning air.

The pilots who had been eating breakfast outside the barracks all shouted "Whoa!" and dashed off simultaneously. Especially those who hadn't been able to participate in yesterday's interception battle ran to the hangars with a do-or-die determination, as if to say they would use up all their energy here.

Feeling a bit hungover, Takeo Chijiwa was the first to grab hold of the ladder to his Beagle aircraft, climbing up with an onigiri (rice ball) held in his mouth. He jumped into the cockpit, checked the instruments while swallowing the onigiri, and exchanged words with the maintenance crew.

"They sure come often."

"Seems the enemy has been getting serious lately."

"Any issues?"

"There are still some holes on the right side of the fuselage."

"Got it."

The maintenance crew jumped down and removed the ladder. Leaning out from the cockpit to confirm safety around him, he started up the hydrogen fuel cell stack, sent current to the DC motor, dispersed the maintenance crew, and roared the tail propeller into action, beginning his taxi. The outdoor speakers delivered the announcer's voice.

"Approximately eighty enemy aircraft, including large planes, forming a combined fighter-bomber group, advancing eastward sixty-five nautical miles west of the San Helena Sea!"

"Eighty planes?"

Chijiwa unintentionally spoke aloud. For an attack the day after yesterday's sortie, the enemy numbers were too great. Despite hitting them so hard yesterday, did they still have that many operational aircraft remaining?

—I'd thought they wouldn't be able to mount a proper attack for a while.

He took off, admiring the frequency and sheer number of enemy raids. Today, they had twenty-seven operational aircraft. They were vastly outnumbered, mainly because many planes had motor troubles after yesterday's air battle. Based on past experience, he intuitively felt that today would likely be a tough fight.

He climbed to an altitude of 6,700 meters and surveyed the airspace.

Cloud cover was five to six. Stratocumulus clouds, like children of cumulonimbus clouds, drifted here and there, making visibility not very good.

Before long, his wingmen, Heisuke Sugino and Taichi Matsuda, took positions on either side of Chijiwa. While circling above Sechihara Base and waiting for the enemy, two Shinden passed in front of them.

He knew who the pilots were by the way they wiggled their wings.

"Kannonji. Mido. They've come."

His heart raced. They had known each other since meeting about nine years ago at the Yokaren preparatory flight training. He couldn't wait to see how much they had honed their skills since then.

The morning sun, risen above the horizon, was already radiating a brass-coloured brilliance over the sea.

The sunlight reflected off the sea surface was heating the clouds floating here and there in the summer sky from below. Visibility was poor and dazzling. It was extremely difficult to visually spot incoming enemy aircraft.

Then—

"I'll lead. Follow me."

While signalling with hand signals, Kannonji passed in front of the formation.

"Already spotted them?"

The other pilots were half in doubt. They still couldn't fully trust the observation abilities of this newcomer.

In air combat, it's standard for the pilot who first spots the enemy to take the lead and guide the formation, but whether to follow or not is decided by the formation leader. Following the unreliable guidance of an inexperienced hotshot could lead to the annihilation of the formation or severe damage to the base. Today's formation leader decided not to follow Kannonji, and the majority of the Otonashi Air Corps members complied.

"Interesting. I'll follow you, Kannonji."

Chijiwa muttered and followed his comrade's tail. The formation leader's decision wasn't absolute. Someone with Chijiwa's record was allowed to act on his own judgment.

Those who followed Kannonji were Mido, Chijiwa, Matsuda, and Sugino—a total of five planes.

Kannonji looked back, saw Chijiwa and the others following, and grinned.

It was the same mischievous grin he'd had since their days in Yokaren.

Being led by Kannonji, the five planes climbed to an altitude of 7,000 meters, cruising while looking down at clusters of scattered clouds below.

The reflected sunlight from the sea was flickering between the clouds. The July clouds were all large and pure white, and their shapes changed rapidly, growing visibly by the minute. The current sky was a somewhat unusual air battlefield where it was extremely difficult for both friend and foe to keep watch.

Then, Chijiwa saw what Kannonji was seeing.

"Oh."

Far below, around 4,500 meters altitude.

About eight giant aircraft were flying in formation, heading toward Sechihara Base.

With a total length of 22 meters and a wingspan of 35 meters—it was the Levamme's latest large bomber, the Granada II, which they had started seeing recently. It had thick armour and excellent bulletproof performance; no matter how many 15mm armour-piercing rounds were fired into it, it wouldn't catch fire. Its huge body was evenly equipped with 15mm rotary gun turrets, creating a barrage like a hedgehog's quills, making it a formidable enemy that didn't allow fighters to approach.

Even such a troublesome opponent was being protected by fighter planes they had never seen before.

"Aries IV. So they've come."

Chijiwa licked the corner of his lips. It was the enemy described in materials sent from the General Staff Intelligence Bureau as the latest model fighter. According to the Intelligence Bureau, it was equipped with the latest DC motors and hydrogen fuel cell stacks, had equal air combat capabilities to the Shinden, and far surpassed the Shinden in defensive power.

From what he could see, there were eight Granada II bombers and fifteen Aries IV fighters. There were probably other enemy formations invading from other directions, but they could leave those to the Otonashi Air Corps members they left behind.

"You've found us a good enemy, Kannonji."

Chijiwa was thrilled. Shooting down opponents who didn't offer a challenge wasn't satisfying. Battling strong enemies was the joy of a samurai.

Because they were approaching the enemy from 7,000 meters altitude, they had an advantage of 3,000 meters. The enemy hadn't noticed them.

The first strike would decide the battle.

At the head, Kannonji suddenly reversed, exposing his underbelly to the zenith, and began a descent in an inverted dive.

The tip of Kannonji's nose was pointing directly at the course of the Granada II.

A shiver ran down Chijiwa's spine. He realized what Kannonji was attempting.

"Interesting."

Chijiwa, like Kannonji, reversed and entered an inverted dive. Mido followed suit. Sugino and Matsuda, not realizing the target of the three, nevertheless mimicked the same manoeuvre toward the enemy formation.

A steep dive that felt like all the air was sucked out of his stomach.

In front of Chijiwa's eyes, the sea approached rapidly. Breaking through several scattered clouds, they dived straight from above toward the nose of the Granada II.

Kannonji was ahead on his left, Mido on his right rear.

The three Shinden formed a slightly diagonal formation, swooping down like hawks aiming for the course of the large bombers.

The giant silhouettes of the aircraft filled the space beyond the windshield.

The cluster of anti-aircraft guns mounted on the upper surfaces of the planes noticed the three Shinden swooping down on them.

In an instant, concentrated anti-aircraft fire from the eight-plane formation erupted like volcanic flames.

A turbid flow of burning lava. Because the enemy was in a dense formation, the density of anti-aircraft fire was extremely high.

However, the three Shinden broke through the midst of the flames.

When the distance between them was less than 100 meters, Kannonji's 30mm machine guns roared first.

The target was near the nose of the Granada II—the cockpit.

From far above, aiming precisely at a single point on the nose, diving steeply and shooting through the cockpit in a passing attack—a top-class aerial combat technique.

The cockpit, hit by 30mm explosive shells, shattered explosively. Kannonji pierced through the flames and continued descending toward the sea.

Immediately afterward, Chijiwa's machine gun bullets were sent into the cockpit of the Granada II that had been flying beside it. Furthermore, the Granada II next to that one received an unforgiving baptism of machine gun fire from Mido.

The three Granada II at the front of the formation all swayed together.

Then, as if their strings had been cut, the huge aircraft spiralled down unsteadily. No matter how heavily armed or how excellent their bulletproof performance was, there was nothing they could do if their heads were blown off. The "Sky Fortresses" over 20 meters in length slid diagonally through the sky like birds and crashed into the sea, turning into thick water columns.

"!?'

"...Amazing...!!"

Sugino and Matsuda, who had been following behind, were speechless. They had never heard of three planes simultaneously demonstrating top-class aerial combat techniques. They realized that the three first-generation pilots they were following were pilots who had reached a godlike level.

"Not rusty at all."

As Chijiwa gazed at the three water blossoms blooming far below, he looked at his comrades' wings with a feeling of reassurance.

"No, they've improved their skills."

He had been a bit worried about their inexperience in switching from observation planes to fighters, but it was unfounded. Carrier air wings had fewer opportunities for air combat, but their training was extremely intense. They must have never neglected mock aerial combat between the two of them; it was a splendid kill as if they had been traversing the aerial battlefields for years.

But they couldn't let their guard down.

In this airspace, the enemy's numbers overwhelmingly surpassed theirs.

The fifteen silver wings of the escorting Aries IV flipped over. Heading toward the five Shinden descending in a hit-and-run attack, they dived straight down.

Descending, Chijiwa looked back over his shoulder. The silhouettes of the Aries IV were closing in, as if pouring down from the deep blue summer sky.

—Those aircraft are strong in steep dives.

Just by looking at the outlines of the enemy planes, Chijiwa instantly grasped that. The large cowling housed a new model motor that far surpassed their own DC motor "Tatae" in performance. With greater engine horsepower, they could enhance armaments and have thicker armour. Thicker armour made them strong in steep dives. The Shinden, which sacrificed defensive performance for manoeuvrability, must not fight on the same terms as the Aries IV.

"In that case..."

While there was still some distance from the enemy, Chijiwa began to pull up his aircraft. If the distance had been closer, exposing the upper surface of the aircraft to the enemy would have made him an easy target for shooting. While there was a safe distance, he transitioned to level flight, flying low at an altitude of 1,000 meters, gradually increasing his speed. The other four Shinden dispersed on their own judgments, aiming to spread out the numerically superior enemy.

While circling, Chijiwa glared upward.

Four Aries IV were diving down. A textbook meat-approach attack. There was no need to engage them directly. Confirming that his current altitude was 1,000 meters, he instantly formulated a tactic.

The enemy planes approached.

Judging the point where the momentum of their steep dive would make correcting their aim difficult, Chijiwa inverted his aircraft and entered a gentle barrel roll while descending.

20mm machine gun fire was simultaneously released from the wings of the four planes.

Bundles of thick tracer bullets passed through the centre of his roll. It's difficult to shower machine gun fire on a target that's rolling gently while approaching.

Furthermore, the enemy planes, with the momentum of their steep dive, broke through the centre of the large circle that Chijiwa was drawing, overshooting their prey and descending toward the sea. Aiming at the tails of those four planes, this time it was his turn to pursue them. By skilfully adjusting speed—a first-class technique of a seasoned pilot—the roles of attacker and defender had reversed in just an instant.

Forced to fire at an altitude of 1,000 meters, the enemy had no choice but to pull up, or they would crash into the sea if they continued descending.

Reluctantly, the enemy planes pulled back on their control sticks at an altitude of 500 meters, attempting to transition to level flight. In doing so, they exposed the upper surfaces of their aircraft to Chijiwa, who was descending upon them—a gesture that seemed to say, "Do as you please."

Recently, when shooting down enemy planes, Chijiwa had made it a habit to apologize to the gods.

"Namusan."

Then, without mercy, he fired 30mm machine gun rounds at the large targets in a salvo. At that time, he didn't forget to shake his nose left and right, spreading the "cannon shells"—the deadly explosive rounds—as widely as possible.

The 30mm machine gun rounds, which could even penetrate the armour of large bombers, were "shells" filled with gunpowder that exploded inside the aircraft after penetrating the armour. Even a single hit would be a fatal blow.

In an instant, three Aries IV exploded.

Breaking through the midst of the explosions, the Demon Dog's tail propeller roared even louder.

One Aries IV was desperately fleeing. It was moving at a speed he had never seen before.

—Fast!

Even Chijiwa was impressed by its speed in fleeing. He could feel the performance difference of the DC motors. He considered whether he should consume more power to chase it, but since the escort had fled, he could now focus on targeting the large bombers.

He glared upward. Five Granada II were still heading toward Sechihara Base.

There was still no support from the Otonashi Air Corps. According to reports, there were over eighty enemy planes, so they probably had several formations attacking Sechihara Base from different directions.

—We five have no choice but to handle this ourselves.

They were overwhelmingly outnumbered. Even in aircraft performance, the Shinden no longer had the advantage. Both the Aries IV and the Granada II were not opponents they could easily handle as before. If they let their guard down, they would be surrounded and shot down under concentrated fire.

—Our only weapons are our fighting spirit and piloting skills.

Due to differences in national power, it had been foreseen that the day would come when the Shinden's superiority would be lost. It had been accepted since before the war that the final remaining strength of Amatsukami would be only the mental and technical prowess honed through rigorous training.

—The war is just getting started.

Chijiwa licked the corner of his mouth.

His fighting spirit welled up so strongly that he trembled.

—We don't fight to live...

—We live to fight.

Embracing only that pride in his heart, he opened the throttle.

The Shinden roared. The Demon Dog howled.

He headed straight for the underside of the Granada II flying far above.

The five large bombers in close formation had gun turrets mounted on their undersides as well.

The rain of fire pouring down was truly like a thunderstorm. Climbing, Chijiwa sharply tilted the control stick to evade the first salvo, then positioned himself behind and above the enemy formation, fixing the gaze of a raptor near their tail sections, increasing his speed.

A barrage like a hedgehog's quills enveloped the airspace. Weaving through the fierce fire, the Demon Dog pursued its prey. In an instant, he closed in to an unavoidable distance.

"Namusan."

His 30mm machine gun's quick draw shattered the tail of the enemy aircraft.

The giant body, having lost control, tilted heavily and descended without recovering its posture. Without even watching the crew bail out with parachutes from the aircraft, Chijiwa turned his eyes to the next prey.

The enemy large bomber formation realized that they were being pursued by the notorious "Demon Dog of Scion Island."

One of them suddenly turned its nose, stopped firing anti-aircraft guns, opened the bomb bay under the fuselage, and began dumping the bombs it had been carrying into the empty sea.

This was probably a signal of "surrender." It might be a unique Levamme signal not found in Amatsukami.

Chijiwa couldn't help but snort in derision. Shooting down such an enemy would feel like cutting down an unarmed opponent—just unpleasant.

He passed directly in front of the cockpit of the large bomber dumping its bombs, showing off the illustration of the beagle, and sent a sneering smile visible to the crew.

"Bring me Seagull."

He threw words that couldn't possibly be heard at the enemy pilot.

As the name of the Demon Dog thundered among the enemy, they would surely be plotting to restore their honour. It would be great if they sent their best pilot to boldly shoot down the detestable Demon Dog. With such expectations, Chijiwa thoroughly mocked the enemy's cowardice, ridiculed their flight, and then looked at the remaining three large bombers.

Like hounds chasing a herd of buffalo, the Shinden were barking at the Granada II.

Sugino and Matsuda were jointly attacking one plane, while Kannonji and Mido were each pursuing the other two solo. Dodging the anti-aircraft fire pouring down from all directions, they closed in and poured 30mm machine gun fire into the enemy's vital spots. Sugino and Matsuda had faced large bombers several times before and should have grasped the essentials, but he could see they were still struggling. The Granada II's improved defensive capabilities were remarkable; even when they concentrated their attacks on spots that had always spewed fire before, they didn't easily catch fire, and continued flying proudly toward Sechihara Base.

Then, suddenly, the right wing of the Granada II beside them broke off.

A large bomber can't possibly fly with one wing; it spun around and fell. Looking down triumphantly was Mido's plane. He had concentrated 30mm machine gun fire on the base of the right wing and shot it down.

—An astounding skill.

Chijiwa was once again impressed by his comrade's prowess.

To shoot at the base of the right wing, you had to attack from behind and above. And that spot was where the Granada II's anti-aircraft fire was the heaviest. Evading that fierce fire and concentrating 30mm machine gun rounds on a tiny weak point was a skill worthy of admiration.

—He was always good at shooting.

The ability to hit a moving object traveling at high speed in three-dimensional space, while also moving at high speed, calculating wind direction, wind force, and bullet drop due to gravity.

When it came to shooting, even Chijiwa couldn't match Mido. The fact that he had been shooting down enemy planes while flying observation aircraft was probably due to his outstanding computational abilities and dynamic vision.

The bomber chased by Kannonji, unable to bear it any longer, opened its bomb bay and dumped all the bombs it was supposed to drop on Sechihara Base into the sea, stopped all anti-aircraft fire, raised its gun barrels toward the zenith, and began to wave its long wings exceeding 30 meters in span up and down. On the ground, this would correspond to raising a white flag, but fundamentally, there is no "I give up" in aerial combat. There is no way to raise a white flag here. The enemy plane was sending a message: "We've given up today's bombing and are returning home, so please let us go," but tomorrow they would come raiding again with their bellies full of bombs.

Whether to let this enemy live or kill them was up to Kannonji's discretion.

Kannonji chose to riddle the enemy with holes.

He switched his ammunition from 30mm explosive rounds to 15mm armour-piercing rounds, and from behind and above the enemy plane, he showered it with armour-piercing bullets in a mocking manner. The enemy knew this was a humiliating treatment but silently endured the rain and fled. Kannonji did not pursue further, letting it go, and turned his nose toward the last plane being chased around by Sugino and Matsuda.

Chijiwa also moved to assist his wingmen. Perhaps losing their will to fight after their escort had fled early and their remaining four comrades were gone, the last Granada II also turned its nose around and began dumping its bombs. However, it continued to fire anti-aircraft guns.

—Let's take this one down.

It's not good to let too many enemies escape. Deciding this, Chijiwa positioned himself behind and above the enemy to draw their anti-aircraft fire. He wanted Sugino and Matsuda to gain experience in shooting down large bombers.

Shaking his nose back and forth, he followed the Granada II at a distance of about 500 meters. The enemy was desperately firing to shake off the Demon Dog, but at such a distance, no matter how thick the barrage, it was unlikely to hit. Like a martial artist deftly dodging the 15mm rounds, he silently signalled to his wingmen, "Hurry up and shoot it down."

Sugino and Matsuda repeatedly launched attack runs on the Granada II. They passed overhead multiple times, firing their 30mm machine guns, but just shooting blindly didn't make it catch fire easily. Unless they steadied themselves, closed in, and were prepared to deliver a decisive blow to a vital spot, a large bomber wouldn't go down. The first-generation pilots like Chijiwa, who could take them down in almost a single hit, were the exceptions. Knowing that Chijiwa was watching, the two wingmen were determined to shoot it down somehow, but instead found themselves hastily evading anti-aircraft fire. It was nerve-wracking to watch.

Suddenly, the massive body of the Granada II shook violently. Flames erupted from its belly.

Perhaps having lost patience, Mido had sliced through the enemy's underside by attacking from below.

Riding the momentum, he climbed above the Granada II, suddenly reversed, and while descending, delivered a second strike to the wing root. From the point of impact, flames erupted again.

Sugino and Matsuda appeared stunned. They took pride in having fought across aerial battlefields since the war began, so this must have been quite frustrating. Perhaps resolved not to let their prey be stolen, they abandoned their earlier hesitant shooting and began closing in through the anti-aircraft fire.

Chijiwa also approached from behind and above, drawing the enemy's fire toward himself. As the two wingmen edged closer from both sides of the prey, they brought their aircraft so close it seemed they might collide, and from an inescapable position, swung their swords—the 30mm machine guns.

Both wings of the Granada II broke off.

The giant wings, each spanning over 30 meters, pointed straight up to the zenith. Breaking through the clouds, they danced in the wind like leaves. Below them, the worm-like fuselage fell helplessly. Crew members were expelled, and parachutes blossomed in the sky.

"Fuu," Chijiwa exhaled through his nose.

Watching his wingmen fight was much more nerve-wracking than fighting himself. While he praised them internally for shooting it down, numerous points that needed correction came to mind.

Sugino and Matsuda, unable to hide their excitement at having shot down a formidable enemy, flanked Chijiwa with proud expressions. Sending a wry smile to his wingmen through the windshield, Chijiwa turned his nose toward Sechihara Base.

They had won the battle in this airspace, but somewhere else, enemy formations that had invaded from different directions were probably still engaged in combat. Climbing to 4,000 meters and cruising while vigilantly scanning the sky, before long, the silhouette of Scion Island came into view.

"Mm..."

Something unfamiliar was mixed into the familiar scenery.

Scion Island, a vivid green island with a skirt-like coral reef, floating alone on the deep ultramarine sea.

From that beautiful island, praised as the Emerald of the Western Sea, several plumes of black smoke were rising.

"Did they allow a bombing?"

In the past six months, the Otonashi Air Corps hadn't allowed a proper bombing to take place. That's because the fighter squadron of top-class pilots had repelled all attacks before they could reach the island. But it seemed that meticulous record had finally crumbled today. The fighter squadrons they had left behind couldn't fully prevent the enemy's invasion.

They might still be fighting somewhere. Chijiwa climbed higher and scanned the surrounding airspace, but the air battle had already ended; neither friend nor foe was flying in the summer sky.

The five planes all entered descending turns and aligned with the landing course to Sechihara Airfield. Ahead, the familiar red dirt runway approached rapidly. However, something unfamiliar soon came into view.

"Uh..."

Red cones were placed here and there on the runway. These marked areas where the surface was dented. It seemed they had been hit by quite a few bombs. If the wheels got caught in a dent, it could cause a porpoise (bouncing), which could lead to the pilot's death if mishandled.

Chijiwa concentrated more than usual, aiming for a part of the runway with fewer markers, and somehow landed. The following planes traced Chijiwa's descent path and returned one after another.

Maintenance crews rushed over and placed ladders on the cockpits. While looking around at the state of the airfield, Chijiwa stepped onto the ground.

One of the hangars beside the runway was on fire. It seemed to have taken a direct bomb hit, and the flames were intense. Ground crew were fighting the fire, but the valuable aircraft being repaired inside were probably no longer usable.

"They really got us," a familiar maintenance crewman said, his face twisted in frustration.

"The enemy numbers were overwhelming. Our allies fought hard, but they invaded from areas we couldn't cover..."

"These days happen," Chijiwa consoled him, and the five of them headed to the aviation command centre. They reported today's results to Commander Shirase, the aviation staff officer, and the flight squadron leader.

"You shot down six Granadas with just five people? If true, that's unprecedented," the aviation staff officer said with disbelief.

Sugino responded:

"I believe it's proof that Lieutenant Chijiwa's name is resonating even among the enemy! We saw many enemy planes flee just at the sight of the Beagle!!"

Chijiwa grimaced at Sugino, who was as proud as could be. Beside him, Kannonji and Mido supplemented Sugino's words.

"We didn't sense much fighting spirit in the escort fighters. Indeed, some fled the moment we encountered them."

"Both the fighters and bombers have excellent aircraft. But it seemed the enemy pilots were somewhat reluctant to engage in dogfights."

"Yes," Commander Shirase nodded happily.

"The enemy doesn't want to die in a place like this. While they mock us as monkeys, they also don't want to die fighting monkeys. Such enemies won't push themselves when they're losing. But once they start winning, they'll regain momentum and attack as if enjoying a hunt. Don't become overconfident."

The aviation staff officer continued, conveying the general situation in other airspaces.

"Today's enemy forces split into three groups, invading from three directions with time differences. According to reports, the formation you encountered seems to have been the main force; you did well to repel them. However, we couldn't fully stop the other two formations and suffered enemy bombing of the airfield facilities for about seven minutes. Everyone fought well, but with that many numbers assembled, it's hard to cover everything. Combining the reports, it seems we shot down seven enemy heavy bombers and sixteen Aries IV fighters. We lost five Shinden, but we won. The enemy won't be able to come again for a while after taking such losses. In the meantime, rest well and recharge your spirits."

"...Yes, sir," they responded and left the command centre together.

They exchanged glances.

"...We lost five of our planes?"

That was more serious. In other words, five familiar fighter pilots had been shot down. Since it was an interception battle, their lives should be spared if they parachuted down. They prayed that as many as possible were safe.

Next to the command centre was the pilots' ready room.

It's where twenty to thirty fighter pilots are always on standby so they can take off immediately when there's an enemy attack. The pilots who had just returned and the standby personnel were mingling, talking loudly about something. Some were even crying openly without caring about their surroundings.

"Tsukada, Tsukadaaa!" "What, Tsuchiya was taken down too!?"

The members were shocked. The names being mentioned were ones Chijiwa knew. Skilled pilots who had fought together since the days at the Trebas Atoll.

He asked a young pilot who was looking down, holding back tears.

"...Tsukada and Tsuchiya died?"

The young man's reddened eyes looked up at Chijiwa. He hastily saluted and then answered the question.

"Yes... Both fought bravely, surrounded by superior enemy numbers, but they couldn't overcome them..."

"...I see. That's unfortunate."

It was about a year since Chijiwa had become a member of the Otonashi Air Corps. He now matched the faces and names of all the fighter squadron members, and as they overcame dozens of aerial battles together, their bonds strengthened, and they felt like a family. Losing members of that family was saddening no matter how many times it happened.

Sugino spoke with the waiting pilots and told them the names of the other three who had died.

"I see..."

Knowing the names of the five dead, Chijiwa felt pain in his heart. The reality that the five who had been energetically eating breakfast that morning were now sinking into the San Helena Sea by evening weighed heavily.

But... he reconsidered.

—To sink into such sentimentality is what weak people do.

Chijiwa quietly spoke to himself.

—We are killing the enemy too. The enemy kills us.

So there's no point in grieving. Even if we blame the nation or the times and scream and cry, it won't bring the dead back. We fight on behalf of our departed friends. In this situation, that's all a warrior can do.

That night, as usual on days when they won aerial battles, the air corps members brought their own drinks to the open space in front of the barracks for a banquet. To dispel the sadness of losing five comrades, they raised their voices, bragged about their kills, showcased their combat skills, and although there was a somewhat desperate atmosphere, it was lively for the time being.

"Kannonji-san, Mido-san, your performance was spectacular! I'm filled with admiration and emotion!" Sugino, excited and red-faced, leaned close to the new reinforcements. The pilots who hadn't been able to participate in today's air battle also seemed eager to know about Kannonji and Mido's skills and naturally gathered around the two.

"No, no, not at all. We're not used to this yet. Thanks to Takeo, we managed somehow," Kannonji said with a grin. Beside him, Mido nodded deeply.

"We underestimated the enemy. Their skills and aircraft performance are on par with ours. If we take them lightly, we'll get hurt."

They sincerely praised the enemy without boasting about their own skills. But what everyone wanted to hear were stories of aerial combat prowess. Eager gazes turned to Sugino.

Puffing out his chest proudly as if it were his own achievement, Sugino said:

"Both of them displayed astonishing skills! When they lined up with Lieutenant Chijiwa and shot through the Granada's head in one hit, I was blown away!!"

He then vividly recounted what he had seen, perhaps exaggerating a bit. As he passionately described the aerial manoeuvres, using his hands to mimic aircraft, everyone began to look at the newcomers with respect.

"Um, Sugino-kun, you're exaggerating a bit," Kannonji said.

"Indeed. He's embellishing the story," Mido agreed modestly.

But Sugino, getting even more carried away, said:

"Both of them have aerial combat skills that rival the Lieutenant's! Perhaps they've even mastered the Left Roll!"

He eagerly inquired. The "Left Roll," Chijiwa's secret technique, was a combat manoeuvre that Sugino admired.

At that question, Kannonji gazed into the distance.

"Ah... that. That's impossible for me. I've tried it a few times in training, but nine times out of ten, I stall. That's impossible for normal people."

Mido nodded gravely.

"Same here. It's strange that someone can reproduce it multiple times. Takeo is abnormal for being able to use such a manoeuvre in actual combat."

With that said, everyone's eyes now turned to Chijiwa, who was drinking near the fire.

"...I don't recommend using it. I prefer not to if possible," Chijiwa said, trying to end the conversation, but Sugino seized the opportunity to press further.

"Lieutenant, could you please explain why that technique is so difficult? If we could all use the Left Roll, we might win aerial battles more easily. I want to understand how it works!"

The pilots gathered around the fire looked expectantly at Chijiwa. In place of the reluctant Chijiwa, Kannonji briefly explained the technique.

"In short, when you're being chased by the enemy, you use the apex of a diagonal loop to slip into their blind spot. A normal roll allows you to circle tighter than the enemy, and if you keep circling two or three times, you can get behind them. But Takeo's roll points the nose of his plane at the enemy's flank in one move. I don't know how he does it."

Mido added:

"Even when we say 'apex of a diagonal loop,' each pilot has a different sense of timing. By using the maximum rudder just before stalling, you can turn in the smallest radius, but judging that point is difficult. Moreover, that point is where you can turn fastest before stalling. If you raise the nose even slightly from this state, you'll stall and fall. At the same time, the load on the aircraft exceeds structural limits, risking mid-air disintegration. It's not a technique that can be mastered by theory alone. Only pilots chosen through blood and sweat can use it."

The pilots knew the theory, but hearing it articulated made them realize its awesomeness.

How did Chijiwa master the Left Roll?

They wanted to know the answer to that question.

Under pressure from those around him, Chijiwa's face twisted with annoyance. Even Kannonji and Mido were asking for an explanation, so he reluctantly shared his thoughts.

"After performing the roll... the turn begins to descend. The key is how long you can delay this descent... It's not about theory. The body tells you. You read everything—the adjustments of the three control surfaces, electrical current control, airspeed, gravity, surrounding wind—and while flowing sideways through space, you point the nose at the enemy's flank."

He gulped down his drink and continued.

"The manoeuvre is performed where the two control limits of stalling and structural strength are simultaneously in effect. If you make even a slight mistake in delicate control, it leads to a spin or mid-air disintegration. If there's any trick, it's that after pressing the right foot bar slightly, you press the left one more strongly... but it's not a technique that can be explained verbally. Especially you, Sugino—it's absolutely impossible for you."

Everyone laughed at his final remark. Sugino, his face turning bright red, retorted.

"Th-that may be impossible for me now, but if I keep honing my skills, someday I'll master it too! I want to use it skilfully and look cool!"

Even though he was slurring his words due to the alcohol, his enthusiasm remained the same. Chijiwa frowned with disdain.

"It's not a technique you use because you want to. You use it because you have to."

He spat out the same thing as before. As Sugino tried to press further, Matsuda grabbed him in a full nelson to stop him.

"Sugino, your drinking habits are getting worse lately."

"Let go, Matsuda! Don't act all high and mighty just because the Lieutenant favours you!"

"Idiot, I'm not favoured. You're just disliked..."

"What did you just say!?"

"Just be quiet. Let's go over there and cool your head..."

"Lieutenant! You don't dislike me, do you!?"

Being dragged away by Matsuda and distanced from everyone, Sugino shouted. Holding a cup in one hand, Chijiwa didn't respond, keeping his expressionless face turned toward the fire.

"Lieutenant, please say something! If you don't, I'll be too lonely! Lieutenaaaant..."

After Sugino's voice faded and was swallowed by the night, Chijiwa finally muttered.

"Fool."

Then a new figure joined the fire.

"Oh, another party tonight? Such high spirits—wonderful. Let me join in."

It was Hasami, carrying a bottle of shochu.

When Hasami joined the gathering, people crowded around him to hear valuable information known only to the higher-ups.

"Looks like there's going to be an air battle around Est Miranda Island."

Illuminated by the orange flames, Hasami told his subordinates with a heavier expression than usual.

"The struggle over there has been going on for some time, but it seems it's more important to the enemy than we thought. Our army units that landed on Est Miranda are being attacked by enemy carrier task forces and are requesting support from the General Staff."

At the mention of carrier task forces, the members of the Otonashi Air Corps looked uneasy. They thought they had thoroughly crushed them in the Battle of Victoria Sea six months ago, but now they were attacking again with new carriers?

"The commander is Wilhelm Bardot, a general who absolutely hates us. His personality is almost indistinguishable from a criminal or a murderer, but annoyingly, he's strong in warfare. If we're up against Bardot's carrier task force, our own Yagami Carrier Task Force will go out. Another decisive battle between carriers will occur."

"Oh!" Light cheers rose. Memories of being intoxicated by the sweet taste of victory off the coast of this island six months ago flashed through everyone's minds.

"A decisive battle is just what we want. If we can take down Bardot, perhaps the enemy will give up on continuing the war."

Such voices rose from the non-commissioned officers. For the Imperial Navy, a "decisive battle," where both sides concentrate their available forces to settle the score, was more desirable than a "war of attrition" like the slow strangulation they were experiencing on Scion Island. Furthermore, winning a decisive battle was the only way for the Imperial Navy to end this war.

"Will we be able to participate in the decisive battle?"

"Right now, every carrier air wing is lacking experienced pilots. They'll want members of the Otonashi Air Corps so badly they'd do anything. It's quite possible we'll be transferred in preparation for the coming decisive battle."

Once again, pleased voices rose here and there. Everyone shared the desire to participate in a great decisive battle that would go down in history.

"We can win, right? The crew's training level is different. The Aries IV are tough, but the Shinden haven't lost yet."

"Indeed. The Yagami Carrier Task Force is full of seasoned veterans who have experienced many naval battles. Most of the crew on Bardot's fleet, which consists of many newly built ships, are virtually on their first campaign. If we face them directly, we'll win as expected. As long as the bigwigs don't do anything foolish..."

Hasami's words trailed off with a hint of unease. In the Battle of Victoria Sea, Commander Yagami's order to change equipment was a dangerous one that could have, if mishandled, resulted in the sinking of six regular carriers. Hopefully, there wouldn't be such reckless decisions relying on the training level of the crew and mechanics.

"Well, there's no point in us getting restless here. We'll just have to do our best on our end. Lately, Levamme seems to be making national efforts to increase production of aircraft and naval vessels. Today's air battle was like that—they plan to overwhelm us with sheer numbers. We'll have tough battles ahead, but by serving as a bulwark against the enemy's numerical superiority, the Otonashi Air Corps can help bring the war to an end. Let's believe that."

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone sensed that the coming phase of the war wouldn't be easy. More would likely fall in the future. But they didn't sink into grief or despair. Each embraced the pride of being a warrior of the sky, resolutely prepared to face the hardships of tomorrow.

The next day—

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" "Run! Run!"

The familiar clanging of alarm bells shattered the morning silence.

"...What?"

Chijiwa slowly rose from his bed in the barracks, his sleepy eyes turning toward the glass window.

6 a.m. Clear summer morning light was pouring down on Sechihara Base. From the distant runway, the sound of DC motors running reached his ears. The pilots on duty in the ready room were about to take off for interception.

"...Damn it. How many planes?"

As he put on his flight suit, he waited for the base broadcast. This was the third consecutive day of bombing. Soon, the speaker in the barracks announced the details of the enemy.

"Approximately ninety enemy aircraft, including large planes, forming a combined fighter-bomber group, advancing eastward fifty nautical miles northwest over the San Helena Sea!"

"Ninety planes!?"

He couldn't believe his ears.

Despite shooting down so many yesterday, the enemy numbers had increased today. Unable to replenish yesterday's losses of five planes, they had to face the enemy while still carrying those losses.

At this rate... no matter how many aerial battles they won, it was meaningless!

—What he had feared was beginning.

The difference in industrial power he had always worried about. Levamme's national power, ten times that of Amatsukami.

It had been foreseen that this would eventually manifest clearly on the battlefield. No matter how many they shot down, the enemy would send in more reinforcements and eventually overwhelm them—a development predicted before the war began. It had finally started.

—This is where the real ordeal begins.

Chijiwa looked up at the sky. About twenty Shinden were taking off for interception. Since Chijiwa and his group were scheduled to be on standby from the afternoon today, they had no choice but to quietly enter the air-raid shelter.

"...Please. Come back alive."

Watching the friendly fighter squadron ascend into the summer sky, all Chijiwa could do was pray.

He didn't like air-raid shelters.

In the darkness, all he could do was sit still, holding his breath, feeling the distant vibrations transmitted through the ground.

It seemed Sechihara Base was being heavily bombed. The heavy impact sounds echoed incessantly, and each time, bits of soil trickled down from overhead. If a direct hit landed right above the shelter, there was a risk of collapse. While he didn't mind dying in the sky, he didn't want to be buried alive in a place like this.

Chijiwa sat with one leg stretched out in the pitch-black darkness, leaning his back against the sidewall, maintaining his expressionless face.

As he strained his eyes in the darkness, memories of his days in the undersea coal mines of Battleship Island came back.

Memories from his early teens, spent without any purpose in life, consumed by the daily toil of mining coal dust.

The pain from those days, when he had given up hope of ever leaving that darkness, faintly returned.

It was a nostalgic pain. Unknowingly, a sentimental feeling squeezed his lungs. Along with it, the face of the girl he had tried not to think about surfaced in the darkness.

—Yuki.

Her long golden hair swaying in the Battleship Island wind.

Her azure eyes resembling the colour of the sea.

Her smile as she looked straight up at him.

His chest ached with pain.

In his ears, Yuki's singing voice from Battleship Island softly echoed.

As he listened to Yuki's song, the scent of those days when he always studied on the bench on the hill returned to his nostrils.

Unable to attend middle school and lagging in his studies, Yuki had lent him textbooks and, neglecting her own singing practice, had stayed by his side to teach him what he didn't understand. When he fell ill with a fever, she skipped school for three days and nights to nurse him. Without Yuki's help, he, poor and without family, probably would never have left Battleship Island.

—And yet, what I did was...

Now, the gentle song that had saved him many times back then was cutting into his heart.

Nine years had passed since he left Battleship Island, and things had changed.

—In the end, all I did was hurt Yuki and make her sad.

—I haven't given anything back for Yuki's devotion.

—I wish I could at least do something to make her happy.

Thinking that, he couldn't come up with anything. As Yuki had said, it seemed he really had nothing besides his talent for flying.

Once again, heavy impacts echoed from afar, shaking the pit of his stomach.

He hated the darkness. It showed him his helplessness from various angles. Being on the ground, not flying, he realized he was just a worthless person.

—You got involved with a worthless man, Yuki.

About a year had passed since the sightseeing flight over the Trebas Atoll. Since then, he hadn't received a single letter from Yuki. Perhaps, faithfully following what he had told her back then, she was getting along with another man by now.

—I hope that's the case.

The moment he thought that, Chijiwa's chest was torn apart.

As if blood were flowing from the wound. It hurt more than being hit by enemy machine gun fire.

—Why am I in pain?

—Isn't this what I wanted?

Staring into the darkness, Chijiwa repeatedly reproached himself.

The source of the pain was his own pettiness.

It was his feelings of affection for Yuki.

"Why now..."

He spat out the words. They were drowned out by the impact sounds and heard by no one.

—A man like me could never make Yuki happy.

──A man possessed by air combat, who has killed over two hundred people.

──With bloodstained hands, I can't hold Yuki's hand.

──If I do that, her song will be tainted.

──That's right. That's why...

──I want Yuki to find happiness with someone else.

He convinced himself of that.

But the pain relentlessly gouged into the deepest part of Chijiwa's heart. That pain unearthed the true feelings he had hidden, tearing them out and thrusting them in front of him.

──Do you really believe that’s Yuki's happiness?

──Do you think Yuki’s happiness lies in becoming someone else's?

"Shut up."

Chijiwa cut off the voice of his heart.

The sound of bombing hadn't stopped. It felt like more than ten minutes had passed since the impacts began.

The pilots crammed into the bomb shelter said nothing. They could only listen to the sound of the enemy's bombs destroying Sechihara Base.

The tide of the war was turning.

That fact seeped into the stomachs of everyone sitting in the dark through the tremors.

Never before had they felt such humiliation. In fact, they had won every air battle. Yet the enemy, undeterred by their losses, continued to replenish their forces and rain down an endless supply of bombs.

Can we even win against an enemy like this?

That unspoken question filled the air in the shelter.

──It’s a time of crisis. There are comrades fighting with us. Those who have already died.

──I’m a man with no skill other than air combat. If I’m not flying, I have no value.

──Whether I live or die doesn’t matter to me.

──I only know how to fight in the sky until I die.

──So... Yuki, please, find happiness on your own path.

Facing the darkness, Chijiwa prayed. That was all he could do. The long bombing finally seemed to be coming to an end.

"Wow..."

"This is terrible..."

Stepping out of the bomb shelter, Sugino and Matsuda were speechless as they squinted under the July sun, taking in the state of Sechihara Airfield.

The ground facilities were completely destroyed.

The aviation command centre, the barracks, and the standby room had all been levelled and were still burning. Thanks to everyone evacuating to the bomb shelters and the palm groves, there were no casualties, but the once comfortable ground facilities were no more.

"Are the planes safe?"

Chijiwa asked a passing mechanic.

"The planes being repaired in the hangar are all gone. The others were in the aircraft shelters, so they’re fine. There’s no problem with the underground facilities."

Relieved, he watched the busy mechanic hurry off. The aircraft shelters were underground bunkers for the planes, and Sechihara Base had facilities capable of hiding hundreds of planes underground or in the dense jungle.

Sugino, hot-tempered as always, cursed in frustration.

"Those cowards! They can’t win, so they drop bombs and run, but the moment they know they can win, they attack en masse. Damn it, it’s so infuriating...!"

He scowled at the pockmarked runway and the ground crews working to repair it.

"From now on, we’ll have to move the command centre deeper into the palm groves or underground. The barracks and the standby room too. It’s going to be tough living in places where sunlight doesn't reach," Matsuda said calmly, his logical nature showing through.

Then, the familiar sound of propellers descended from the sky. Looking up, they saw a formation of Shinden planes beginning their descent. It seemed they had attacked the enemy formation after the bombing and were now returning. The runway was still full of craters, but their remaining fuel must have been critical, forcing them to land despite the danger.

"Quite a few of them are missing..."

That was Chijiwa’s concern. There had been about twenty planes when they took off, but now, fewer than half—just seven or eight—were returning.

"Were they shot down?"

"Mm... I don't want to think about it, but..."

They probably had been. The earlier one-sided bombing was only possible because the interceptors had been eliminated.

It’s generally said that casualty rates increase exponentially with differences in troop strength, with the proportionality constant being training and equipment performance. According to this equation, the side with fewer forces suffers increasingly greater losses as the gap widens, and they become less able to inflict damage on the enemy.

In a dogfight between three Imperial and ten Royal pilots, the Imperial side would normally win. An Imperial pilot, with their superior training and equipment, could take down at least three Royal pilots in exchange for one loss. But from now on, it would be three Imperial pilots against thirty Royal ones. In that case, the three Imperial pilots would be shot down, while all thirty Royal pilots would survive. The wider the gap in numbers, the fewer losses the Royal forces would suffer, and the greater the losses the Imperial forces would endure. This was the kind of battle the Otonashi Air Corps would face in the future.

The Shinden planes began landing one after another.

Even for highly skilled pilots, landing on a cratered runway was difficult. The planes bounced dangerously, but they managed to stop, though each plane was riddled with holes. They had likely been surrounded by the Ayres IVs and struck with armour-piercing rounds. Many of the planes looked like they would take a long time to repair. A reduction in operational planes directly increased the danger for pilots who would take off on future interception missions. Watching their comrades land, Chijiwa prayed for their safe return. But the last plane finally hit a crater, causing a severe bounce.

"No! Get away!!"

Chijiwa shouted to the ground crews on the runway. The Shinden bounced twice, tilting as it struggled to stop. The ground crews scattered, trying to get out of its path.

On the third bounce, the Shinden plunged headfirst into the ground with tremendous force. The cockpit crumpled, and the next moment, flames erupted.

"Aaahhh!?"

Sugino screamed. It was unbearable to watch. The ground crews rushed to extinguish the fire, but the pilot was surely dead. To survive the air battle only to die like this—what a pitiful end. Perhaps the pilot had been wounded or was simply exhausted from the relentless sorties. For a pilot with over a thousand hours of flight time, it was far too anticlimactic an ending...

"Only six returned. One severely damaged, four moderately to lightly damaged. Only one undamaged plane."

Matsuda muttered quietly. It was the first time they had lost over ten Shinden in a single air battle.

"Ugh..."

Chijiwa groaned, staring at the burning Shinden on the runway.

Its twisted, broken tail propeller seemed to ominously hint at the grim future awaiting the Otonashi Air Corps.

The official name was "First Mobile Fleet," but no one called it that.

"Bardot's Mobile Fleet."

That was the common name used among the soldiers of the Holy Levamme Empire's military.

Now, more than 160 warships of various sizes had gathered at the San Cristobal stronghold.

The fleet consisted of five squadrons. Four of them were aerial fleets, each organized into a circular formation cantered around aircraft carriers. Each of these squadrons was nearly equivalent in scale to an entire Imperial fleet.

Bardot's Mobile Fleet included fifteen aircraft carriers in total—double the number the Empire possessed. Additionally, there were four flying battleships, four conventional battleships without launch facilities, sixty-five heavy and light cruisers combined, and seventy-two destroyers. The sight of these warships dominating the sea and sky was something never before seen in Levamme’s history.

"A perfect lunch," Bardot said.

He gazed from the dining hall window of the mobile fleet’s flagship, the regular aircraft carrier Gran Ideal, admiring his fleet like precious newborns. Satisfied, Levamme Navy Commander Wilhelm Bardot cut into a large portion of sirloin and brought it to his mouth.

Chewing the sinewy meat roughly, he washed down the overflowing juices with wine, then followed it with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. The staff officers sharing the table with him were impressed by his hearty appetite, which showed no signs of his fifty-seven years.

"I can forgive cows and pigs. You can kill and eat them."

After saying that, he tore off a chunk of fatty meat. After four chews, he swallowed and continued.

"Monkeys, though? You can't eat them. They’re useless. At best, you can use them in a circus as a spectacle. The proper role of humans is to wipe such creatures off the face of the earth."

These words, filled with derision toward the Amatsukamian people, were part of his daily routine. His staff officers had heard them so often they’d grown tired of them, and when Bardot didn't say them, they actually felt uneasy. His disdain and hatred for the Amatsukamians were almost instinctive. There was no specific reason or event that led to his animosity—it was simply in his nature to reject different races. As a human being, this made him morally wrong, but as a commander fighting against the Amatsukamians, he was unparalleled.

"What we're about to engage in is not a war, but a monkey hunt. There won't be a battle. All we have to do is head to the monkey mountain, enjoy slaughtering them, and plant our flag at the top. It’s no different than a picnic."

He gulped down an entire bottle of wine and signalled for more from the waiter.

Bardot had been waiting for this moment for six months, ever since his appointment.

The mobile fleet currently attacking the Imperial forces on Est Miranda Island was just a decoy, meant to downplay their strength. The fleet conducting exercises here was the true Bardot Mobile Fleet.

The necessary ships, aircraft, and new weapons had finally been assembled. All that remained was to conduct drills, improve their readiness, and test the new electronic equipment. Then, it would be time to go hunting.

"For a year and a half, we’ve let the monkeys run wild. The soldiers must be frustrated. Let’s give them plenty of opportunity to vent all their pent-up anger and frustration."

The staff officers, sensing Bardot’s good mood, followed his lead and smiled along.

"Our aviation unit's training has improved. While we’re still inferior to the Empire's air force in terms of skill, we can more than make up for it with aircraft performance and numbers. This time, we’ll win the air battle too."

"Hmm. Losing in the air is concerning. We've managed thanks to our production power, but the Nexus Air Corps seems to have deteriorated quite a bit."

"They say it's impossible to return alive from Sion Island. Every day, we send out large formations, and every day, we lose half of them. Word has spread even to the Levamme court that we can’t win in the air, which has strengthened the anti-war faction."

Three deep wrinkles appeared on Bardot’s forehead.

"Not a single bomb or torpedo will hit the Gran Ideal. This ship was built to showcase the pride of our nation. There will be no oversight on that front."

The one who nodded was Commander Ramon Task, the man who had led the successful Operation Seagull and was now serving as a key staff officer under Bardot.

"We're fully prepared. There’s no way the Shinden fighters will get close."

Bardot turned his large eyes and glared directly at Ramon.

"Seagull, huh?"

"Yes. We’ve rewritten his past, credentials, and even his name. He’s now promoted to lead the Gran Ideal air unit."

Bardot grinned, his teeth bared.

"Is his skill still sharp?"

"He’s repeatedly engaged in mock dogfights with ace pilots and remains undefeated. No one can best Seagull."

"Good. But has he ever commanded a squadron?"

"Most highly skilled pilots tend to be equally capable as squadron leaders. They simply apply the same techniques they’ve always used, but with an entire formation. With Seagull leading the Gran Ideal's fighter squadron, we will undoubtedly have Levamme’s finest air unit. We’ll prove that over the Est Miranda seas."

Bardot’s face wrinkled into a childlike expression of joy.

The fact that they had been losing local air battles was a source of frustration for the entire Imperial Navy, and in the next naval battle, they were determined to win in the air. Having such a reliable pilot lead their flagship's air squadron was a great relief.

It didn’t matter if Seagull was a bastard or a vagabond. The only thing Bardot required of his subordinates was combat ability. Seagull’s extraordinary dogfighting skills would protect the Gran Ideal.

"I can't wait for winter. I want to drive those filthy monkeys into the northern seas as soon as possible. We’ll send statues of the Eight Gods back to the Empire and smash them to pieces."

Unable to contain his excitement, Bardot set down his knife and fork.

He couldn’t suppress the pounding of his heart as he climbed the stairs and entered the bridge.

Through the bulletproof glass, Bardot's mobile fleet stretched out before him.

The circular formation around the Gran Ideal was flanked by four other squadron formations. Together, the five formations created what could be described as a "cross-shaped circular formation."

Over 160 warships were connected in this massive defensive structure. Each individual carrier was equipped with the latest radar, allowing them to detect incoming enemy aircraft long before they arrived. The fleet’s escort fighters would intercept the enemy far from the carriers, launching multiple attacks before the enemy could drop their torpedoes or bombs.

Even if some elite enemy planes made it past the escort fighters, the new fuses in their defensive guns turned each formation into a blazing volcano. Any bombers that approached would be swallowed by the flames rising from the heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers.

Even if they somehow made it past those four formations, they would still face the grand formation around the Gran Ideal. Nearly forty warships guarded the carrier, with anti-aircraft fire forming a literal wall of flame. No matter how skilled the enemy pilots were, there was no way they could break through.

Bardot imagined a scene of monkeys on fire falling into the sea, and a fresh smile spread across his face.

The machine that would enforce Bardot’s will on the Amatsukamians now loomed on the sea in front of the San Cristobal stronghold.

"Winter, hurry and come."

Watching the fleet’s precise manoeuvres, Bardot dreamed of the coming decisive battle.

Chijiwa, Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, and Mido received their transfer orders to the Unkaku Air Squadron in early October.

When Commander Shirase personally delivered the news in the underground aviation command centre, Sugino and Matsuda couldn't hide their joy.

"We’ll be able to join the decisive battle, right?!"

Sugino leaned forward eagerly, and under the bare light bulb, Commander Shirase smiled at them.

"I don’t want to let you go, but you were personally requested by the Unkaku's captain. Please don’t overdo it... though even if I asked, you probably would anyway. In a week, return to Awa Island via the Trevas Atoll. The combined fleet is assembling for the decisive battle. It’s likely going to be an even bigger engagement than the Battle of Victoria Sea. Unlike six months ago, this time the enemy will be fighting in earnest. Be vigilant and don’t let your guard down."

After responding with a salute, the five of them returned to the surface.

Under the clear autumn sky, Sugino and Matsuda wore smiles the entire time.

"We’re returning to the Unkaku! It’s going to be busy, but I’m happy we can take part in a sea battle!"

Kannonji and Mido also couldn’t help but smile.

"I was just starting to get used to Sechihara, but going back to sea is great."

"Yeah, I’m getting tired of living underground like a mole."

The enemy air raids were getting fiercer with each passing day, and now even the barracks were underground. Their daily routine alternated between hiding in lightless holes or battling enemies in the sky. For those selected, the transfer orders were a welcome change from the dreary days.

"Still, even if it’s just temporary, losing you three is going to be hard for the Otonashi Air Squadron."

Matsuda muttered softly. By now, Chijiwa, Kannonji, and Mido were regarded as guardian deities of Sechihara Base. Sugino and Matsuda, who had joined later, had also seen a remarkable increase in their kill counts, actively participating in daily air battles over the past two months.

"The enemies just keep coming, no matter how many we shoot down. It feels like the more we take out, the more they appear."

Kannonji’s comment reflected the general sentiment of the Otonashi squadron. No matter how many air battles they won, the Imperial forces showed no signs of weakening. It felt like slashing at waves as they crashed onshore.

"Our pilot numbers are also dwindling. With us five leaving, it’ll only add more strain on them."

Mido sounded apologetic. He felt a sense of guilt for the comrades in the Otonashi squadron, with whom he had formed a close bond.

"… No point in worrying. Our job is just to shoot down enemy planes."

Chijiwa bluntly said. His words were devoid of sentiment, but they were the harsh reality. Their circumstances or feelings wouldn’t be considered. Their only role was to head to the designated battlefield and fight until their lives ran out. That was a soldier's duty.

A week later, the five of them boarded their respective aircraft, escorted by land-based attack planes, and left Sechihara Base behind. As they flew past the silhouette of Sion Island, which had served as a forward base half a year earlier, they landed at the beautiful capital base of the Trevas Atoll.

After staying the night and refuelling, they set off again with other transferred pilots. They flew past the great waterfall, traversing the familiar skies of the East Sea, and landed on Iyo Island, where they stayed for another night.

The next morning, they joined up with other pilots selected from the Iyo Island air squadron, and about fifty Shinden aircraft headed eastward toward the combined fleet's assembly point.

Bored by the long flight, Chijiwa gripped the controls of his Beagle aircraft.

No matter how far they flew, the autumn sky remained unchanged, and the sea below them was calm. It was a welcome break from hiding underground at Sechihara Base, but having grown accustomed to constant air battles, the peaceful, enemy-free skies now felt unbearably dull.

As he let out a huge yawn and lazily followed the land-based attack planes—

"Oh."

Their destination came into view on the horizon.

It was Awa Island, the largest Imperial stronghold in the East Sea.

Awa Island had long been part of Amatsukami territory, with a climate and landscape similar to the homeland. Even the native population spoke fluent Amatsukami language. For Chijiwa, who had been hopping between front lines for so long, the sight of the island filled him with a comforting sense of returning home.

The lead attack planes began to gradually descend. The fifty Shinden aircraft trailing behind followed suit.

The island grew larger, revealing its contours, with soft green mountains and gleaming silver streaks on the sea.

The south-eastern part of the island curved inward, forming a large crescent-shaped bay. The bay served as a military port, with numerous warships anchored. The harbor was protected by extensive docks and breakwaters, and concrete gun emplacements lined the coastline to defend the vessels within.

It was the Daidoarai Fortress.

A critical outpost for Amatsukami’s westward expansion, it had withstood countless Imperial Navy assaults in the early stages of the Central Sea War, often turning the tables on its attackers. The bay was vast, but its entrance was narrow. Protected by the Daidoarai Fortress, the combined fleet waited in its safe harbor, as if resting in the womb before the next decisive battle.

Chijiwa and his team entered a descent spiral over Daidoarai Bay and landed at the nearby Daidoarai Airfield. As they opened their canopies, the familiar breeze of the East Sea greeted them, tickling their nostrils.

"Wow, Awa Island really is something! It smells just like home!"

Sugino ran up to Chijiwa’s side, beaming.

"They say we’re free to do as we please tonight. Lieutenant, how about we enjoy some real Amatsukami cuisine for the first time in a while?"

Even the usually quiet Matsuda seemed giddy, a little excitement leaking into his voice. Kannonji and Mido nodded in agreement as they received their schedule and accommodations from an officer at the air command. They were dismissed for the day and headed to the bustling downtown area together.

"There are so many warships docked here—it’s full of life."

"With such a big operation on the horizon, I’m sure even the townspeople are feeling excited. It’s no wonder, considering we’ve been winning up until now…"

As their wingmen suggested, the downtown area of Daidoarai was buzzing with navy personnel, wearing their uniforms and walking around in large groups. The sailors, having been cooped up on their ships for long stretches, were lavish with their spending once ashore. Not knowing if they’d survive to see tomorrow, they were eager to enjoy the present. The red-light district and fine dining establishments were packed with soldiers.

The colonization of this island by the Amatsukami began about thirty years ago. The diligent settlers cultivated fields, built roads, and installed water, sewage, and electric infrastructure, creating a town on this remote island that was virtually indistinguishable from Amatsukami mainland. The island was vast, with abundant water and ample flatlands, leading to Awa Island’s rapid growth. The street signs were all written in Amatsukami, and most of the buildings were traditional wooden structures with tiled roofs. Even the locals spoke fluent Amatsukami, making the atmosphere no different from the homeland.

On a narrow street lined with shops, eateries, and inns, children wearing tin-pot helmets and sleeveless shirts played, brandishing sticks as they chased each other.

One of them noticed Chijiwa and the others in their flight suits and stopped in his tracks.

"Look! It’s a pilot! A pilot!"

The child snapped to attention with all the effort he could muster and saluted Chijiwa. The snot-nosed boys with shaved heads who had followed him did the same, lining up beside him, backs straight, and saluting.

"Thank you, pilot sir!"

"Thanks to you, we can live safely!"

It seemed they were reciting the lines they had learned in school, shouting with serious expressions that seemed a bit forced. Chijiwa, unsure of how to respond, twisted his face into his usual grimace and muttered,

"...I see."

His expressionless words were tossed in a random direction. He glanced at Sugino out of the corner of his eye.

Sugino grinned broadly, patting each of the boys on their shaved heads.

"Do you all want to be pilots too?"

"Yes, sir! When I grow up, I'll fly in the sky!"

"Good. Work hard. By then, the war will be over, and you’ll be flying in peaceful skies."

"............"

The boys stared blankly at Sugino’s words before responding.

"Yes, sir!" "We'll work hard for our country!" "We’ll fight and shoot down the enemy!"

Sugino’s smile faded slightly, a hint of sadness creeping in.

"...Alright, off you go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Following his command, the boys enthusiastically waved their hands and marched down the street until they disappeared from sight.

Matsuda, watching their small backs retreating, murmured,

"Even children that young are taught to see fighting the enemy as something normal..."

The five men, having flown through countless battlefields, understood all too well what the reality of war was like. It was one thing to accept it for themselves, but the thought of forcing that reality onto those younger than them left them feeling uneasy.

"By the time those kids grow up, the war will be over. And it’ll be our victory. They'll fly alongside the Levamme, not as 'monkeys' but as equals, as fellow humans."

Sugino spoke as if trying to encourage himself. Chijiwa remained silent, listening to his two wingmen.

It was three weeks later when the combined fleet finished assembling at Daidoarai Bay and finalized the operation plan.

The offensive, dubbed "Operation Ho," was aimed at capturing Est Miranda Island and annihilating the enemy carrier fleet patrolling the surrounding waters.

Three months earlier, a naval landing force had established an airfield on Est Miranda, but the Imperial forces’ counterattacks had been more serious than expected, and although the landing force had been holding its ground, it was weakening by the day. Supplying the stranded soldiers was difficult due to the need to cross the Great Falls from Awa Island, and they were running out of ammunition and food. The Admiralty and the combined fleet decided to seize Est Miranda as a crucial stronghold in the Northern West Sea and launched Operation Ho. The desire for an early decisive battle with the rumoured Bardot Fleet was likely another factor in their decision. Just like the Battle of Victoria Sea, the operation would aim to achieve two conflicting goals: capturing an island and annihilating an enemy fleet.

The operation involved 57 warships, including six regular carriers—an experienced force made up of battle-hardened veterans from the Victoria Sea campaign. A warship is a weapon operated by hundreds or even thousands of crew members unified in purpose, and the outcome of a fleet engagement is said to depend on the crew’s training. While it was already known that the Bardot Fleet had more than three times the number of ships, the Admiralty believed that the superior training of the Yagami Fleet would offset the numerical disadvantage.

Among the four fleet divisions, the first and second divisions were composed of six carriers, while the third and fourth divisions were the assault force, led by super-dreadnoughts Hida and Settsu, along with other battleships. After eliminating the enemy fleet from the waters around Est Miranda, these divisions would land troops on the island.

Chijiwa and the four other selected members of the Otonashi Air Squadron were assigned to the Unkaku Air Squadron.

For Chijiwa, the Unkaku was a carrier he had grown accustomed to through numerous transfers. After saluting the captain of the Unkaku, Commander Miyoshi, and the squadron’s new air officer, they made their introductions.

"I wanted to call Lieutenant Hasami too, but Commander Shirase wouldn’t allow it. Competent wing leaders can’t be spared anywhere. The Otonashi squadron must be struggling after losing you five, so I didn’t push too hard."

Captain Miyoshi chuckled as he introduced the new air officer who would be leading Chijiwa’s group.

"This is Lieutenant Gokosho. Follow his orders in the upcoming battle."

A slender man with an intellectual look surveyed Chijiwa and the others.

"I'm Gokosho. I've heard about your successes at Sechihara—impressive results. But the Unkaku Air Squadron is now full of veterans, each capable of taking down a thousand enemies. Let's show mutual respect and avoid any behaviour that could disrupt our discipline."

His tone was authoritative from the start. He probably knew of Chijiwa’s reputation for challenging superiors and wanted to assert control from the outset.

Chijiwa stared at the wall beyond Gokosho’s shoulder, his expression unchanged, without responding. Kannonji and Mido, knowing Chijiwa’s temperament, smiled and answered in his place.

"We’ll keep that in mind."

"We'll give it our best."

They said what was needed to smooth things over, and after receiving some encouraging words from Captain Miyoshi about their future efforts, they hurriedly left the scene.

"I don’t like him," Chijiwa muttered as they navigated through the carrier’s familiar corridors to their assigned quarters. Sitting down on his bunk, he grumbled softly.

"You're rarely fond of any air officer, Lieutenant," Sugino replied, unconcerned, as he hooked his legs around the top rail of the bunk and hung upside down with a grin.

"It’s been a while since we’ve done this! How about it?"

"I'll join you too," said Matsuda, also flipping upside down, awaiting their superior’s participation.

"...Tch."

Reluctantly urged on by his wingmen, Chijiwa finally hung upside down as well.

"One! Two! Three...!"

With Sugino leading the count, the three of them began doing upside-down sit-ups in unison. Kannonji and Mido, watching from the side, shook their heads at the strange sight of the Chijiwa squadron’s peculiar training.

To reach Est Miranda from Awa Island, they would have to cross the Great Falls, which meant that only vessels equipped with launch and recovery systems could take part in this battle. The Imperial Navy had been in the process of converting its surface ships into flying ships, anticipating that future battles would be fought over the Western Sea, but the lack of materials and funding had slowed progress. Most of the airships involved in Operation Ho were the same ones that had participated in the Victoria Sea campaign. The Imperial Navy would have to rely on its veteran crews’ training and skills to counter the overwhelming numerical advantage of the Imperial forces.

As the Yagami fleet crossed the Great Falls, the first enemy sighting report arrived from a reconnaissance plane.

"1025 hours. Enemy main force spotted. Bearing 93 degrees from Cape Rolo, distance 140 nautical miles. Heading 190, speed 20 knots."

Tension rippled through the bridge of the flagship Bofu. The report had come in much sooner than expected, and additional reports quickly followed.

"Enemy main force consists of more than 160 ships. 15 regular carriers, 8 battleships, 4 of which are flying battleships. Countless cruisers and destroyers. Exact numbers unknown."

"The enemy main force is arranged in five divisions, forming a cross-shaped defensive formation. The central division, consisting of 7 regular carriers, is anchored around the flagship Gran Ideal. 1028 hours."

It was an immense fleet. With 15 regular carriers, their air strength would be three times greater than the Imperial forces. However, the early discovery of the enemy fleet was a stroke of luck.

There was still a significant distance between the enemy main force and the Yagami fleet, offering a strategic advantage.

"We can attack from out of range."

Once again, Commander Yagami was confident that the goddess of victory was smiling upon the Imperial Navy.

While the enemy's fighters, bombers, and torpedo bombers were heavily armoured, they had short ranges. The Imperial aircraft, on the other hand, were lightly armoured but had a far greater range. They could now exploit this advantage, launching attacks from a distance that the enemy couldn’t reach.

Without suffering any counterattacks, they would be able to strike with impunity. It was a dream scenario for any military strategist, and it had materialized over these seas.

"Launch all aircraft!"

With that command from Commander Yagami, the battle of Est Miranda was set to begin.

Same day, 10:40 a.m.

On the flight deck of the regular carrier Unkaku──

Nearly a hundred pilots had gathered on the flight deck near the bridge. The announcement "All attack squads, line up!" echoed through the speakers as the flight commander began to write the positions of both the enemy and friendly carriers on the blackboard. "Enemy flagship carrier Gran Ideal, 135 nautical miles southwest of Cape Rolo, heading 170 degrees, speed 20 knots." The pilots crowded around the blackboard in a fan shape, their eyes wide, burning the details of the enemy's location into their minds.

The breakdown was as follows: 15 aircraft from the air superiority fighter squadron, Shinden. Following them were 25 aircraft from the carrier-based bomber squadron, Rensei, and 10 from the torpedo squadron, Tensui. Fifteen aircraft were left to cover the immediate air defence of the Unkaku. All five members of the Otonashi Air Squadron, including Chijiwa, were assigned to the air superiority squadron for this mission. Their task was to clear the airspace around the enemy carriers ahead of the bombers and torpedo planes, engaging and neutralizing any defending fighters. It was a prestigious role for a carrier fighter squadron, as their success would be crucial in ensuring the attack on the enemy carriers succeeded. The leader of the air superiority squadron was Lieutenant Gokosho Ryuichi, an officer who had taken up the mantle of leadership for the Unkaku Air Squadron after Chijiwa and Hasami transferred to the Otonashi.

"Air superiority squadron, take off!!"

At the flight commander’s command, Chijiwa and the rest of the squadron sprinted toward their beloved aircraft. Climbing up the ladders, they slid into their cockpits and started the hydrogen fuel cell stacks.

The DC motors of the Shinden lined up on the rear deck roared to life. The propeller vibrations shook the air, transforming the atmosphere into that of a battlefield.

The lead aircraft, Gokosho's, accelerated rapidly and took off, lifting its wheels off the deck just before the bridge. In rapid succession, the following 14 planes took off, one after the other. With the officers on deck seeing them off, they formed five three-plane formations at an altitude of 4,000 meters and flew southwest.

As always, Chijiwa flew with Sugino and Matsuda at his sides, following closely behind Gokosho's squadron. Staring through the windscreen at Gokosho’s tail propeller, he maintained a speed of 450 km/h.

Soon, they merged with the air superiority squadrons launched from five other regular carriers, forming a massive formation of around 90 Shinden, all flying in unison toward their confrontation with the Bardot fleet's air force.

The sky was cloudy, with poor visibility.

Neither side would easily spot the other in today’s weather.

They flew with the silhouette of Est Miranda Island to their right. Chijiwa, not letting his guard down, carefully memorized the island's shape, marking it on his chart so he could navigate back alone if necessary.

After crossing Cape Rolo, the endless sea stretched before them.

According to the battle plan outlined earlier on the bridge, it would take about an hour and a half to reach the enemy fleet at cruising speed. Chijiwa, somewhat relaxed, figured they still had time before they encountered the enemy. However, something strange appeared in his line of sight.

"What the...?"

Even without keen eyesight, anyone could see this approaching enemy formation. The agitation of Gokosho’s lead aircraft was apparent, even from behind.

The expression "like a mass of clouds" perfectly described the enemy formation ahead.

At a distance of about 10,000 meters, the tightly packed enemy formation loomed like a dark cumulonimbus cloud.

The enemy planes were spread across three altitudes: 8,000 meters, 5,000 meters, and 2,000 meters, with around 100 fighters in each layer.

In total, there were 300 enemy fighters in the intercept squadron. And they were waiting far from their carriers, meaning they would be able to launch repeated attacks before the Imperial forces could reach their targets. No matter how skilled the Imperial air superiority squadron was, it would be near impossible to fulfill their mission when pursued relentlessly by three times their number of enemy aircraft.

Chijiwa clenched his teeth.

He directed his thoughts toward Gokosho’s plane, silently pleading.

"Stay with the bombers and torpedo planes. Air superiority is out of the question."

The role of the air superiority squadron was to precede the bombers and torpedo planes and clear the airspace around the enemy carriers.

But given the overwhelming enemy presence, it was clear that air superiority was unachievable.

In that case, the best course would be to abandon air superiority, join up with the bombers and torpedo planes, and protect them as they launched their attacks on the enemy carriers.

Though it would still be a difficult battle, this strategy might at least inflict some damage on the enemy fleet. Charging headfirst into such a massive enemy formation would risk the complete annihilation of the air superiority squadron. If they were wiped out, the bombers and torpedo planes would be left unprotected, and their fate would be sealed.

"Don't charge in. Pull back."

Chijiwa glared at the squadron leader's plane, gritting his teeth. But there was no sign that Gokosho intended to retreat. Determined not to show their backs to the enemy, they charged recklessly into the formation.

Chijiwa glanced to his sides.

Sugino and Matsuda were both looking at him with anxious expressions.

Chijiwa nodded grimly, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

──Follow me.

He gave a hand signal, one that only his long-time wingmen would understand. Sugino and Matsuda, visibly relieved, nodded in return. It was a signal that, if necessary, Chijiwa would disobey the squadron leader’s orders.

──I won't throw away our lives for some foolhardy officer's decisions.

Subtly easing off the throttle, Chijiwa’s squadron began to distance themselves from Gokosho’s fast-advancing plane. Other air superiority fighters passed them, casting puzzled looks down at Chijiwa’s group as they overtook them—these were pilots from the carrier air squadrons who had little experience in dogfighting.

──They're overconfident in their abilities.

Chijiwa, who had constantly engaged in air battles with Imperial pilots as part of the Otonashi squadron, could tell.

The skill gap between the two forces was shrinking. The enemy now had veteran pilots who had survived since the start of the war and shared their knowledge of air combat. Additionally, the Aires IV fighters had surpassed the Shinden in performance, and now, the enemy outnumbered them three-to-one. Charging headlong into this formation was like ramming into a concrete wall, and it would only result in senseless deaths.

When the distance to the enemy formation dropped to 5,000 meters, the black cloud began to surge toward them like an avalanche.

Even Chijiwa, a battle-hardened veteran, couldn’t help but let out a low groan at the overwhelming numbers. The enemy, already confident of their victory, descended on the Shinden squadron from all three layers: top, middle, and bottom.

The sky was filled with enemy aircraft.

"Don't take them head-on!!"

Chijiwa shouted at Gokosho and, at the same time, pushed his control stick sideways, kicking the rudder bar. With Sugino and Matsuda following his lead, he banked sharply and dove into the clouds.

Enveloped in a field of greyish-white, Chijiwa headed toward the bombers and torpedo planes following behind. He had decided early on to abandon the mission of securing air superiority and focus on protecting the bombers and torpedo planes. Not only Chijiwa, but also other experienced pilots like Kannonji and Mido, followed suit, diving into the clouds to avoid a direct confrontation with the enemy.

However, Gokosho was undeterred.

Glaring fiercely at the overwhelming enemy formation, he charged straight in, determined to rely on his honed skills and fearlessly plunge into the horde of lesser-trained enemies like a samurai.

Fifty-odd Shinden followed Gokosho.

The swarm of over 300 Aires IV descended upon the Shinden all at once.

In an instant, a storm of metal tore through the sky.

The crisscrossing streams of tracer bullets shredded the November sky.

Orange explosions blossomed in the sky, and waves of shattered duralumin sliced through the air. The Shinden, torn apart with their wings ripped off, were reduced to burning fuselages, plummeting toward the sea below.

A torrential downpour of 20mm cannon shells tore through the Shinden, turning their aircraft into honeycombs.

Tail propellers were blown away. Jet-black silhouettes were engulfed by a hail of tracer rounds, disintegrating into fragments.

Two, three, four planes were swallowed by the flames in the blink of an eye—all of them Shinden.

The Aires IV, with superior climb and dive capabilities and powered by more potent DC motors, attacked in pairs or more, always outnumbering the Shinden. While the Shinden tried to counter with three-plane formations, the disparity in numbers made it impossible to engage in proper dogfights. Surrounded, they were attacked from above and below, their entire frames pierced by volleys of machine-gun fire, sending them plummeting to their deaths.

Even when a Shinden pilot managed to get behind an Aires IV, lining up the enemy in their sights for a shot left them temporarily vulnerable. The role of the wingman was to protect the lead pilot during this moment, but with each plane surrounded by multiple enemies, they couldn’t provide cover. As a result, before the Shinden could shoot down their targets, they themselves were shot down by other enemy fighters.

With every passing moment, the number of Shinden dwindled.

The Aires IV remained nearly unscathed, mercilessly toying with the Shinden.

What began as a 300-to-50 dogfight soon became 280-to-30 within five minutes, and then 270-to-10 after ten minutes. The side with superior numbers suffered minimal losses, while the outnumbered side endured catastrophic casualties.

Gokosho, his plane battered and broken, still flew amidst the countless enemy aircraft.

Blood stained his entire face, and fragments of his plane, torn apart by armour-piercing shells, dug into his body. Harsh winds, relentless in their assault, battered him within the cockpit. Yet, even as blood dripped from his eyes, he refused to stop fighting.

His comrades had almost all been shot down. It was unbelievable to see the once-invincible Shinden being so thoroughly defeated by the Aires IV, even with the numerical disparity.

Glaring through his bloodied vision, he scanned the surrounding airspace.

Every plane in sight was an Aires IV, their greyish-blue bodies filling the sky. Not a single jet-black Shinden remained.

──Has the entire air superiority squadron been wiped out?

──The invincible Shinden, brought down by an enemy that only had numbers...

Just as that thought flashed through his mind, three Aires IV dove down from above.

A barrage of explosive rounds pierced Gokosho’s cockpit. For a lightly armoured Shinden, taking a hit from a 20mm explosive shell was equivalent to a direct hit from a cannon. Gokosho and his plane were both blown apart, scattering over the waters off Est Miranda.

The 270 victorious Aires IV now turned their attention to their next prey—the Imperial bomber and torpedo squadrons.

Picket destroyers, whose primary role was gathering intelligence, patrolled the surrounding waters, using their radar systems to track the location of the Imperial forces. With their high-performance radar detectors, they quickly located the Imperial bombers and torpedo planes flying in from the rear, sending this information to the combat information centre on the regular carrier Gran Ideal. There, the battlefield data was consolidated, calculating the heading, altitude, and speed of the Imperial formations, and the refined, high-quality information was relayed to the 270 Aires IV in the interception squadron. This interception system, devised by Bardot’s right-hand man, Lieutenant Commander Ramon Task, allowed the Royal Navy to launch repeated attacks on the Imperial forces long before they reached their targets.

At that very moment, the data from the combat information centre was transmitted to the Aires IV squadron commander. With perfect enemy data in hand, pinpointing the location of the Imperial bombers and torpedo planes, the commander grabbed his radio and issued his orders.

"We’ve found the next monkey mountain. This time it's the females and their cubs. Don't hold back. Leave none alive."

Filled with language that Bardot would appreciate, the Aires IV flipped their silver wings and set off for the next hunting ground.

As he flew through the clouds, Chijiwa thought of the comrades he had left behind.

By now, they had likely been engulfed by the enemy’s tidal wave, their lives ended in the vast ocean below.

He pitied the non-commissioned officers who had been forced to follow such a foolish command. There was no need to throw their lives away under the reckless orders of an overconfident commander. If they were to die, it should be based on their own decisions, facing the consequences of their own judgment.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, hidden within the white haze, Chijiwa began to sense the enemy’s intent.

──They lured us into an out-of-range attack.

──Bardot's plan from the start was interception.

Most likely, the enemy fleet had deliberately revealed itself early on through its scouting planes to tempt the Imperial forces into launching an out-of-range attack. Bardot intended to destroy the Imperial forces using his state-of-the-art interception system. Commander Yagami had fallen right into Bardot’s trap.

──However, our own interception forces are strong too. It won’t be that easy for the Royal Navy to strike.

From what he had seen earlier, the Royal Navy had deployed a large portion of their fighters for interception. The Bardot fleet would soon be entering waters where they could be attacked by the Yagami fleet, but with so many of their fighters engaged in interception, their offensive capability seemed weak. The battle was not yet lost.

Breaking through the clouds, Chijiwa spotted the friendly carrier-based bomber squadron Rensei and the carrier-based torpedo squadron Tensui, preparing to launch their attack. Chijiwa cut across their flight path, flashing his plane’s insignia and signalling to his comrades.

"Providing escort. There's a superior enemy force ahead."

The squadron welcomed the famed "Mad Dog" as their escort. Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, Mido, and around 30 other veteran pilots who had survived the interception also joined in to provide cover.

Chijiwa scanned the sky, searching for the enemy formation he had seen earlier.

The key to reaching the enemy fleet was to avoid engaging with the superior enemy forces ahead.

──The enemy is close.

A strong premonition resonated through the cockpit. Even though they were out of sight, Chijiwa’s instincts, honed over two years of flying in battle, told him the enemy was near.

He scrutinized the scattered clouds around them.

There, in a break between the clouds, he caught a glimpse of the sky tinged with a slight darkness. The difference in shade was so subtle that an ordinary person wouldn’t notice it, but Chijiwa’s intuition warned him of danger.

He focused intently. His eyes, trained by countless battles, pierced through the clouds.

──There. They're coming.

About 15,000 meters ahead, a formation of over a hundred enemy planes was charging toward them as if they already knew their location.

──The enemy has perfected radar detection systems.

In that moment of certainty, Chijiwa sped to the front of the friendly formation, pointing toward the enemy’s position and banking his wings.

"Follow me. I'll lead the way."

He signalled to his comrades, taking the lead and guiding them through a course that kept the clouds between them and the approaching enemy.

Surveying the area, he spotted enemy picket destroyers spread out across the ocean. Those destroyers were likely using radar to track their position and relay the information to the enemy's carriers.

──The enemy's radar is more advanced than ours.

The Imperial forces had radar detection systems, too.

But their performance was crude, and they were almost useless in actual combat. The Royal Navy seemed to believe that the Imperial forces had superior radar systems, but in truth, the Imperial Navy was relying on highly trained specialists using their skills and intuition to perform superhuman feats. What the Royal Navy perceived as the power of advanced technology was actually the result of the Imperial soldiers' honed skills and indomitable spirit.

──If we’re outnumbered and outmatched in technology…

A sense of foreboding began to settle in.

Darting in and out of the clouds, Chijiwa led his squadron in evading the enemy.

The radar information provided to the enemy could only offer a rough estimate of their position. Ultimately, the enemy would need to spot them with their own eyes. By making the best use of the current conditions, Chijiwa was able to compensate for the technological disadvantage in information-gathering. Keeping the enemy within his field of vision, he continued to guide his comrades to the safest part of the sky, where they would be hardest to detect.

And then...

The dense clouds suddenly cleared, and Chijiwa’s eyes were filled with an endless expanse of blue sky and sea.

At an altitude of 5,500 meters, with only one or two small clouds in sight, there was virtually no cover to hide in.

Cutting through this vast, pure-blue world were five ominous rings forming a cross on the sea’s surface far below.

The entire ocean was stained white with the wake of countless warships. Over 160 ships, their presence overwhelming, caused sweat to drip from Chijiwa's hands.

Five circular formations, each about five kilometres in diameter, spread out off the coast of Est Miranda.

At the centre of the formation was Bardot’s flagship, the carrier Gran Ideal, surrounded by the other four circular formations, arranged in a cross. Each formation had regular carriers at its core, surrounded by other ships pointing all their anti-aircraft guns skyward, forming an excessively fortified air defence.

"We're supposed to attack this?"

Chijiwa glanced back at his comrades, letting out a groan.

The enemy’s confidence was clear. Each regular carrier had at least six escorting cruisers or destroyers, all armed and ready, waiting for the Imperial attack in this sea of anti-aircraft fire. Charging into this barrage would require tremendous courage.

But there was no sign of hesitation among the Imperial bomber and torpedo squadrons. This was their moment to shine, and they were brimming with resolve.

The formation consisted of 120 Rensei dive bombers and 60 Tensui torpedo bombers. These were elite units, manned by veteran pilots who had been flying since the war began.

Fortunately, thanks to the radar detection system, the enemy’s direct air cover had left this airspace. This was due to Chijiwa’s guidance, but there was no time to waste—the enemy fighters could return at any moment. Right now was a rare and golden opportunity.

The torpedo squadron began to descend. Their target was undoubtedly the flagship Gran Ideal. They intended to brave the anti-aircraft fire and strike Bardot with their precious oxygen torpedoes.

The squadron leader saluted Chijiwa as they flew past him.

It was a salute of gratitude for escorting them this far. Chijiwa returned the salute, praying for their success.

Both the bomber and torpedo pilots had endured over a thousand hours of intense training to deliver their payloads onto enemy ships. To stand on this stage today, they had literally shed blood, sweat, and tears, honing their skills every single day. Now was the time to showcase the results of their effort.

As an escort fighter, Chijiwa had done all he could. All that remained was to watch their attack and hope they would return safely to the carriers.

──Let as many succeed as possible.

As soon as he finished his prayer, the Rensei squadron began their full-force dive-bombing run.

Cutting diagonally through the blue sky, they plunged at a 60-degree angle, diving straight toward their targets.

Following their leader, the bombers entered a perfectly synchronized dive, with each subsequent plane tracing the squadron leader’s path. Their coordination, the result of intense training, was breathtakingly beautiful.

The first wave of 60 planes began their attack in quick succession. The plan was for the second wave to hit the enemy while they were manoeuvring to evade the first strike.

The 15 Rensei, each carrying a 500 kg bomb, sliced through the blue sky in a steep dive.

The pilots, their blood rushing to their heads, fought to keep their vision from blacking out. With a 60-degree dive angle, the control stick felt as heavy as an anchor, requiring immense strength to manoeuvre. Bracing their entire bodies against the controls and enduring forces of five to six Gs, they aimed the sight of their targeting systems squarely at the flagship Gran Ideal.

Before reaching the central formation around the flagship, they would first have to break through the outer defensive formations.

As the lead 15 bombers approached the airspace above the outermost formation, the battleships, light and heavy cruisers, and destroyers below unleashed hundreds of anti-aircraft guns, filling the sky with fire.

In an instant, it was as if an underwater volcano had erupted. Forty-millimetre anti-aircraft guns from the cross-shaped formations painted crimson crosses of fire across the sky.

The 15 Rensei bravely dodged through the anti-aircraft barrage.

Anti-aircraft fire rarely hit its target. It was difficult to hit fast-moving planes with the short-range guns, so the purpose of the barrage was mainly to create interference. If a plane was hit, it was just unlucky. At least, that had been the belief until now.

But then, as a fiery line reached the belly of one of the bombers—

The Fireline exploded.

A ball of fire extended outward like the tentacles of an octopus.

Ensnared by countless lines of flame, the Rensei, its wings and tail torn off, spun down like a helpless insect, crashing into the sea below.

More lines of fire shot toward the following planes. As soon as they reached the vicinity of a bomber, the flames expanded outward like a giant net.

It was a fiery web. And this web spread out just in front of the bombers, as if it had been precisely calibrated to do so.

Even the most experienced pilot couldn’t evade it.

In an instant, the net ensnared another Rensei, its 500 kg bomb forcibly detonating, sending the plane and its payload into a blazing explosion mid-air.

The barrage of high-angle fire didn’t stop. The crimson rain of destruction continued to shoot skyward from the formation.

The terrifying part was that the rain of fire wasn’t just thick and impenetrable—it exploded just as it neared its target.

One by one, the 15 Rensei were caught in this fiery net and forced to prematurely detonate the bombs they carried, unable to even reach their targets.

Watching the tragic spectacle of explosions bloom in the air, Chijiwa could only stare in shock.

He understood now what kind of anti-aircraft fire the enemy was using.

“VT fuses…!!”

The anti-aircraft gunners' dream weapon had finally appeared on the battlefield.

Typically, anti-aircraft fuses were timed, set to explode at a specific altitude. But because of the difficulty of hitting a moving aircraft, they were largely ineffective, serving mainly as deterrents.

But the shells the Royal Navy was firing now clearly had proximity fuses—warheads equipped with radar that exploded when they approached an aircraft. Previously thought impossible due to the enormous G-forces exerted on the fuse during launch, the Royal Navy had managed to bring this dream weapon into reality.

"Abort! Turn back!!"

Chijiwa shouted to the Rensei and Tensui squadrons. Their leaders weren’t fools; they had likely realized by now that the enemy was using VT fuses.

The enemy’s circular formations were like ironclad fortresses protecting the central carriers. Attempting to break through would mean being caught in those fiery nets. Charging in with bombs strapped to their bellies would lead to a predictable and grim end.

But—there was no option for the Imperial forces to retreat.

"Stop…!!"

Chijiwa’s desperate plea went unheard as the Rensei squadron continued their dive-bombing run.

At the same time, the Tensui torpedo planes, skimming just above the water, accelerated toward the enemy formation.

The Rensei sliced through the sky at a steep angle, while the Tensui, flying at just 50 meters above the water, pushed to battle speed to punch through the flaming iron walls.

In the next moment, as the valiant hawks attempted to leap over the fortress—

The cross-shaped volcano erupted.

A fiery rain of explosive lightning shot upward. Thousands of flashes of light burst in front of the hawks. Yellowish-brown smoke billowed up, and explosions triggered more explosions. The Rensei were torn apart, their horizontal and vertical stabilizers ripped off, sending their fuselages plummeting toward the sea.

The rain didn’t let up. The explosions chained together. The 500 kg bombs, pierced by shrapnel from the VT fuses, roared in fiery despair.

Without even landing a single blow, the highly trained warriors were decimated.

Countless watery blooms spread across the ocean. Water columns rose everywhere.

The enemy’s anti-aircraft fire continued to shoot up triumphantly. The Rensei and Tensui squadrons, charging into the fiery barriers, were all but obliterated.

“Retreat! It’s a trap!!”

Chijiwa’s desperate cry fell on deaf ears.

The Imperial forces charged headlong into the impossibly strong fortress rising from the ocean, as if they were drawn to it. Not one tried to escape.

It was as if they couldn’t believe what was happening. They seemed determined to prove that this couldn’t be real, that they would be the ones to break through the fortress and sink the enemy carriers. No matter how many comrades fell, they pressed on, hoping to charge over their bodies and into the heart of the cross-shaped formation.

Watching this, Chijiwa bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood.

These pilots had endured over a thousand hours of gruelling training, their bodies soaked in sweat, tears, and blood, all to show their worth today.

And now, they were being shot down like turkeys by enemy soldiers wielding superior technology.

It felt like molten lava was coursing through his chest—frustration, sadness, and rage swirling together, making his eyes sting with unshed tears.

'Kill the monkeys.'

Chijiwa could almost hear Bardot, the commander aboard the Gran Ideal, mocking them across the battlefield.

'This isn’t war. It’s a monkey hunt. Let’s show these Eastern monkeys the greatness of humanity.'

The heat in his throat surged upward. It felt as though flames would burst from his mouth, his insides boiling with fury.

He needed someone to unleash this unnameable emotion upon.

Where was the enemy?

His bloodshot eyes scanned the surrounding sky.

What had been clear skies just moments ago were now covered in fire and smoke, reducing visibility to around 3,000 meters.

The dark, ash-coloured smoke, along with the fire, sparks, and iron fragments from the explosions, created a thick fog over the sea, making it difficult to see even his own comrades. The thirty or so Shinden that had survived the interception, including Sugino, Matsuda, Kannonji, and Mido, were now separated from each other by the dense smoke and flames.

“Damn it.”

Cursing under his breath, Chijiwa broke through the dark clouds and began climbing. The enemy interception squadron, with nearly 200 planes, would be returning soon, and he wanted to secure a favourable altitude before they arrived.

At 6,700 meters, Chijiwa levelled off.

Below, the anti-aircraft fire from the circular formation continued. Not a single enemy ship had been hit. None of the bombs or torpedoes had been dropped on the enemy, and the formation remained unscathed, firing its crimson barrage into the sky. The VT fuses exploded just before reaching their targets, creating what looked like fireworks. The water columns rising in the sea were all that was left of the Rensei and Tensui squadrons.

It was a sight that burned itself into his brain, scorching it with frustration. He felt like he might actually cry blood.

"I'll avenge them. I swear I will."

Swearing to avenge the Rensei and Tensui planes falling helplessly into the sea, Chijiwa searched the sky for an enemy.

And then—

"Nu…!!"

From the direction of the central formation, where the Gran Ideal was stationed, Chijiwa saw a group of enemy fighters rushing straight toward him. Narrowing his eyes to focus, he counted about 15 planes—likely the direct air cover squadron that had stayed behind. They must have been delayed, but now they were here, ready to hunt down any retreating Imperial planes.

For once in this battle, the Shinden outnumbered the enemy by two to one.

It was the perfect chance to vent all the pent-up frustration from this cursed battle.

Chijiwa licked the blood at the corner of his mouth. Gripping the controls tighter, he opened the throttle. The enemy was at 5,500 meters. He had the advantage of altitude by about 1,000 meters, allowing him to dive on them from above.

The lingering smoke and fire would obscure his approach. Carefully weaving through the clouds, Chijiwa closed the distance on the enemy formation.

From the shape of their planes, he could tell they were all Aires IV. The enemy still hadn’t noticed them.

When the distance between them dropped to less than 1,000 meters, Chijiwa suddenly reversed his direction, diving from above in a near-inverted attack.

His target was the lead plane of the enemy formation.

Taking out the leader would throw the enemy’s formation into disarray.

The Aires IV's silhouette loomed larger as he closed in. An attack from above gave him a large target to aim for, making this the ideal approach.

──Got you.

Certain of his aim, Chijiwa pulled the trigger for the 13mm machine guns.

A line of fiery tracers shot out from his plane’s fuselage, stretching toward the enemy.

In that instant—

The lead plane jumped out of the line of fire.

"!?“

Descending past the nose of the enemy formation, Chijiwa quickly darted his gaze to the side.

The enemy formation leader, like a master swordsman deflecting a blow with flawless footwork, evaded Chijiwa’s perfect shot with a sharp, sudden roll.

A chill ran through him.

—This guy.

One exchange was enough to gauge the enemy’s skill.

—Could it be…you?

Fear pierced through his spine.

Incredibly, his teeth chattered.

For a moment, he had been completely overwhelmed. Before he realized it, smoke from the anti-aircraft guns had surrounded him. Even looking up, he could only see fragments of the enemy formation.

Shaking his head left and right, Chijiwa forced himself to regain his composure.

"Calm down."

He muttered to himself. This was a critical air battle that would decide the course of the war. Just encountering a pilot with remarkable skill wasn’t a reason to lose his focus and court death.

"Take him down."

He steeled himself, gripping the control stick and banking sharply.

The sound of thirty of his allies’ propellers grew louder. He couldn’t see them from his position, but it was clear that his side had engaged with the enemy’s cover squad. If he hesitated, the formation leader might be shot down by Kannonji or Mido.

“I’ll be the one to take him down.”

With his black wings slicing through the air, Chijiwa plunged into the heart of the chaotic battle.

The air was already filled with dogfights as Imperial and enemy aircraft tangled with each other.

Some circled behind their adversaries, entering vertical dogfights, while others engaged in loops and tight turns. The entire sky was consumed by deadly engagements, the kind of dramatic duels that fighter pilots lived for.

The roar of propellers surged and dipped, their eerie harmonics layering over each other, weaving an ominous melody. Below, the wakes of 160 warships trailed behind, while the falling Imperial and Royal aircraft splashed into the sea, sending up countless pillars of water. Only the strongest would survive in this merciless sky, where the bittersweet trails of smoke would bloom and fall, crashing down into the ocean below.

Chijiwa’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the Aires IV formation.

Every single one of those planes was incredibly formidable. As expected from the elite guard of the Bardo Carrier Fleet’s flagship, they were far stronger than the Nexus Air Squadron. Even though his side had the advantage of numbers, the Shinden squad was struggling.

—Where did the formation leader go?

Without a doubt, the strongest one was the leader from earlier. Chijiwa searched the tangle of friend and foe, trying to pick him out, but with no distinguishing marks, he couldn’t tell who was who.

Suddenly, an Aires IV below and to the right of Chijiwa’s position had its wings torn off, spiralling down. Passing through where the enemy had been was Mido’s plane. The veteran was calmly picking off targets amid the chaos, taking down enemy aircraft one by one.

Right before Mido, a Shinden fell, engulfed in flames. An Aires IV broke through the smoke, pulling up sharply.

Mido immediately latched onto its tail. Likely seeking to avenge the downed ally, he pursued the Aires IV, which went full throttle to escape.

Mido closed in. Using over boost, he was nearly in range. At the perfect moment, Mido fired a full volley. But the enemy pilot performed a deft, aggravatingly precise roll, dodging the attack.

Mido and the enemy locked into a horizontal dogfight. In terms of turning capability, the Shinden had the upper hand. It was only a matter of time before Mido would get on the Aires IV’s tail after two or three rotations.

Watching the sequence of movements from the sidelines, Chijiwa let out a sigh of relief.

Just as he was about to turn and pursue another target—

Mido’s plane exploded into fragments.

"—What?"

The Aires IV that had been chased burst through the fiery explosion, flying through the air where Mido’s plane had just been.

It was as if the pilot were saying that taking down an opponent of that caliber was only natural, gliding elegantly, confidently.

“What…?”

Mido’s plane was gone, not even a trace left behind.

There wasn’t even time for a farewell.

They had known each other since their training days.

A dear friend. Someone who had beaten Chijiwa countless times in mock aerial battles, with superior skill.

And now, right before his eyes, Mido had lost a real fight against an Aires IV.

—What just happened?

Chijiwa couldn’t comprehend the situation. What he barely understood was that Mido had lost a turning fight.

Despite having superior turning ability, Mido was defeated by the Aires IV. Which meant…Mido’s aerial combat skill was inferior to that of the enemy pilot.

"What do you mean?"

Chijiwa’s gaze turned toward the sky. He almost expected Mido to appear with a calm face, saying, "I just let my guard down." But there was only the wreckage of Mido’s plane, drifting through the air.

—Mido is dead.

—Shot down by an enemy fighter.

It was unbelievable.

One of the Imperial Army’s top five aces, killed in an aerial duel. Losing to a superior aircraft could be accepted, but to be defeated in skilful aerial combat was a humiliation no Imperial pilot could endure.

—If there was a man capable of shooting down Mido among the enemy forces…

—That man is…

What snapped Chijiwa out of his daze was the sight of a Shinden shooting upward at incredible speed.

“Kannonji…!”

Kannonji had witnessed Mido’s demise.

The usually easy-going man was now showing raw fury in his movements, pushing his plane into over boost.

Ahead of Kannonji’s plane was an Aires IV.

The Aires IV, pursued relentlessly by Kannonji, desperately tried to shake him off, but Kannonji refused to let go, his flying intense and aggressive.

That must be the plane that took down Mido. As soon as Chijiwa realized it, he, too, began to chase the enemy.

Kannonji was pressing hard, but the enemy pilot was flying with breathtaking skill, trying to shake off his pursuer.

The manoeuvres made it clear that this was no ordinary pilot. It was the same enemy formation leader who had evaded Chijiwa’s first shot and had taken down Mido.

The enemy formation leader increased speed.

Kannonji leaned forward in pursuit.

Just as Kannonji was about to fire his 30mm cannons, the enemy leader pulled into a loop.

The loop was slightly off-centre, indicating a less-than-perfect manoeuvre.

Without hesitation, Kannonji followed.

Tracing the path of the loop.

Seeing this, Chijiwa’s mind stiffened.

A cold spear pierced through his body.

—That manoeuvre…

—It’s the one from back then…

At that moment, Chijiwa’s soul screamed from within.

“Don’t follow, Kannonji!!”

His bloodcurdling cry went unheard in the chaos of the battlefield.

The enemy leader reached the apex of the loop.

Kannonji closed in, moving into the kill zone.

Chijiwa pushed his throttle to the limit. He prayed he would make it in time, shouting words that would never reach their target.

“It’s a trap!!”

Through the canopy, Chijiwa saw the enemy leader, inverted, twist their plane.

It was a manoeuvre that created a vacuum in the sky.

A move that only Chijiwa, among all pilots, had ever performed.

Wearing a grim, determined expression that replaced his usual easy-going smile, Kannonji pursued the enemy.

His heart was a tangled mess. If he could cry, he would have long since screamed until his throat tore apart. He thought he had become numb to the harshness of the battlefield, but the pain that tore through his soul now defied description.

—Mido.

—I will avenge you.

For nine years, they had flown through the sky together as comrades. Side by side, they had competed and honed their skills.

And now, his dearest friend had just been shot down in a turning fight, right before his eyes.

Before the sorrow could take hold, he had to shoot down the enemy who had killed Mido.

Fuelled by rage, Kannonji pursued. The enemy thrashed about, trying to break free, but Kannonji focused every ounce of his skill and will into staying locked onto them.

The enemy began a clumsy, angled loop.

An imperfect loop.

—Got you.

Kannonji was sure he could catch him at the loop’s peak. He followed the enemy’s path without hesitation.

Through the swirling smoke, he ascended. Through the canopy, the enemy’s plane grew larger.

Kannonji looked through his gunsight. The enemy was just about to transition into an inverted flight, their belly now exposed.

Right before the enemy fully rolled over to look at the sky—

Kannonji placed his finger on the trigger of his 30mm cannon.

The Aires IV’s silhouette filled his gunsight.

He was at point-blank range. He didn’t even need the sight.

Just as Kannonji moved to pull the trigger—

The Aires IV vanished.

The 30mm explosive rounds that should have struck their target shredded through empty air.

“!?”

Kannonji’s eyes and mouth flew open in shock.

He had missed. At point-blank range, he had missed.

He couldn’t comprehend the manoeuvre the enemy had just executed.

—No.

—I know this technique.

Unbelievable as it seemed.

This was a move that only Chijiwa, among the Imperial forces, could perform.

If the enemy had indeed just executed that technique, then…

Kannonji shifted his gaze to his right, glancing over his shoulder.

The four 20mm cannons of the Aires IV were aimed directly at Kannonji’s right side.

It was point-blank range. There was no chance of evading.

In his final moment, Kannonji muttered the name of the technique the enemy had just used.

“The Left Twist Ismael Turn.”

The next instant—

Kannonji’s body was torn apart by 20mm rounds.

Tracer rounds, armour-piercing shells, explosive rounds, incendiary bullets—all tore through his plane, turning Kannonji’s aircraft into a shredded, burning wreck.

Through the canopy, Chijiwa saw the fireball that Kannonji’s plane had become.

The enemy formation leader, having completed the left twist, soared through the explosion of Kannonji’s aircraft, ascending triumphantly toward the heavens.

“Ooooooooh!!”

Chijiwa’s howl was that of a beast.

Over boosting, his Shinden’s black wings tore through the sky.

There was only one target in his sights.

The enemy who had shot down both Mido and Kannonji.

There was no longer any doubt as to who that pilot was.

The Ismael Turn he had just witnessed revealed everything.

The man beloved by the sky.

The only one who had ever beaten Chijiwa in the air.

I’ve chased you across countless battlefields.

There is no one else on this earth who could have shot down my two closest comrades.

“Sea Gull!!”

"Finally, I’ve caught up."

"Now, it's just a matter of bringing you down."

He was solely focused on one thing—taking down the Seagull.

"Don’t run! Fight me!!"

Chijiwa’s voice was so loud it felt as if it would tear his vocal cords apart.

There was no time to cry. Grieving could come later. First, he would avenge Mido and Kannonji. After that, he would allow himself to wallow in sorrow. He would scream his grief for his fallen comrades to the sea.

With bloodshot eyes, he glared at the retreating form of the Seagull, climbing higher into the heavens.

The Aires IV had superior climbing ability. The Shinden couldn’t keep up. The Seagull seemed to mock Chijiwa as it ascended higher and higher into the sky.

Clouds spread ahead, covering the sky.

It was as if the sky itself was trying to hide the Seagull from view, obstructing Chijiwa’s path.

"Move! Get out of my way!"

Chijiwa was consumed by a feverish rage. He turned all of the emotions flooding his chest into a burning will to fight.

5,000 meters, 5,500, 6,000, 6,500. He continued his ascent, pursuing the Seagull relentlessly.

Suddenly, another Aires IV dove down from above to attack.

He hadn’t noticed it in his field of view. In a split second, Chijiwa twisted his aircraft.

A barrage of bullets from the Aires IV skimmed dangerously close to his plane. It was a near-fatal attack. The Seagull wasn’t the only skilled pilot; the entire Gran Ideal squadron was full of aces.

"Stay out of my way...!"

But Chijiwa’s selfish wish wasn’t granted.

The enemy pilot had noticed the Beagle insignia on his aircraft. Instead of retreating, the ace pilots were now flocking to take down the infamous Demon Dog. Despite Chijiwa’s gritted teeth, if he focused solely on the Seagull, he would be the one shot down.

"Out of my way, you underlings!"

With a sudden reversal, Chijiwa broke off and entered a vertical dogfight.

After just two spins, he got behind the enemy and swiftly cut them down in a single strike.

But the enemies didn’t relent. From above and from both sides, they courageously rushed at him.

"Don’t get cocky, you small fry!"

Chijiwa tried to shake them off. But the enemies wouldn’t back down. Every plane that spotted the Beagle insignia was now targeting him.

—Where’s the Seagull?

He searched the enemy planes, hoping to spot the Seagull among them, but without any distinguishing marks, there was no way to tell who the Seagull was without engaging in combat.

"Put some markings on yourself, too!"

He shouted his selfish desire, then rapidly turned and descended into a cloudbank hovering at 4,000 meters.

His vision went pitch-black as he entered the cloud. He listened closely, flying within the darkness for a while before finally emerging on the other side.

The enemy planes were still pursuing him. His allies noticed and rushed to his aid.

Three Shinden fighters latched onto the Aires that had been chasing Chijiwa, quickly engaging in dogfights. The skill and performance of the aircraft were about the same, but now the Shinden squadron outnumbered them.

An Aires IV fell, followed by a Shinden. It was a fierce struggle of attrition. This wasn’t the sky where the Shinden once reigned supreme. The Aires IV now surpassed the Shinden in performance. The Imperial pilots were relying on their skill to overcome the disparity in their machines—it was that kind of battle now.

“Seagull…”

His groan was swallowed up by the roar of the Aires IV propellers.

He couldn’t see his target. The clouds, the smoke, and the enemy planes seemed to conspire together, concealing the Seagull from view.

He couldn’t touch the tail feathers of his prey.

“Damn…”

Chijiwa strained to hear.

He tried to listen to the sky.

But there was no answer. This sky was now completely under the Seagull’s spell. It didn’t even offer Chijiwa a sympathetic glance, instead keeping its gaze fixed on the Seagull alone.

His molars ground together with a sharp squeal.

The overlapping heat of various emotions turned into a flame behind his eyes.

“Don’t run! Fight me…!!”

What answered his prayer was the sound of even more propellers.

"…!?"

The western sky was clouded.

Like columns of gnats, a swarm of specks rose toward the heavens.

At altitudes of 8,000, 5,000, and 2,000 meters, formations of Aires IV planes packed the air.

The Royal Army’s interception squadron had returned, having fended off the Imperial Army’s air superiority team. There were roughly 180 enemy planes.

By now, 80% of the Imperial bombers and torpedo bombers had been shot down by VT fuses, and there was nothing left for Chijiwa and the Shinden squadron to do.

Matsuda’s plane flew past Chijiwa, pointing toward the massive enemy formation and signalling for a retreat. The remaining twenty or so Shinden pilots, upon seeing the interception squadron’s return, immediately turned tail and fled. There was no longer any chance of victory in this area. With no bombers or torpedo planes left to defend, retreat was the only logical choice for any experienced pilot.

But Chijiwa’s blazing eyes remained fixed on the enemy formation.

Was the Seagull in there? Could he be waiting for a one-on-one duel with me?

These thoughts twisted inside his mind.

Matsuda and Sugino flew to Chijiwa’s sides, urging him to retreat.

His wingmen were calling out for their squad leader to stay calm.

“…Damn it.”

Losing your composure meant death.

Chijiwa had always preached this to Sugino and Matsuda. Now, that same lesson was echoing back to him.

—Calm down.

—Challenging the Seagull now would be reckless.

—For the sake of Mido and Kannonji, you have to survive.

Finally, the voice of the sky reached him, advising him to live.

Chijiwa bowed his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly and deeply.

With hands still gripping the controls in frustration, he banked his plane and retreated into the clouds.

Sugino and Matsuda followed suit. If they flew through this thick cloud layer, they would be able to shake off the interception squadron’s pursuit.

—I'm sorry, Mido. Kannonji.

—I’ll get your revenge. I’ll be the one to bring down the Seagull.

—From now on, you’ll fly with me.

He called out to his fallen comrades in his heart.

As he fled through the clouds, the tangled mess of his emotions finally gave way to sadness and loneliness.

The thick cumulonimbus clouds helped guide the Shinden squadron back.

They entered one cloud, pierced through it, then dove into another, shaking off the enemy pursuit.

Because of the ongoing naval battle, they couldn’t expect any radar navigation assistance. Using it would reveal the location of their mothership, not only to their allies but to the enemy as well. Chijiwa had to rely on the silhouette of Est Miranda Island visible to his left to navigate back to the carrier.

Spotting the landmark of Cape Roro, which he had memorized before take-off, Chijiwa adjusted his heading to the southeast. He knew that if he kept flying, they would reach the Unkaku safely. Fortunately, thanks to the long-range attack they had launched, there was no worry of an enemy assault on the friendly carrier fleet. The sun was still high, and they could regroup and prepare for a second strike later. The showdown with the Seagull could wait until then.

With that resolve, something caught Chijiwa’s eye.

—Black smoke?

The sky ahead of his Shinden was dark with soot.

Rising smoke from the sea below stained the belly of the bright white clouds.

—No way.

Chijiwa descended to 3,000 meters and looked down at the ocean.

The source of the smoke was the burning Imperial fleet, including the aircraft carriers of the Hachigami Mobile Fleet.

Battleships, light and heavy cruisers, and destroyers, all arranged in circular formation, were frantically circling the crippled carriers.

It was hard to understand what was happening.

There hadn’t been an attack from the enemy’s mobile fleet. And yet, of the six main carriers, four were spewing black smoke, with some listing so badly they seemed beyond repair, while others were starting to sink near the bow.

“...!?”

Looking at the erratic movements of the surrounding ships, it was clear that they were desperately searching for something. The carriers were running for their lives, while the destroyers were frantically trying to protect them. The sea was boiling, and occasionally, water columns shot up near the destroyers. Depth charges were being dropped into the sea.

At that moment—

Suddenly, two white lines streaked across the surface of the water.

The lines moved swiftly toward the fleet’s flagship, Boufu, where Admiral Hachigami was aboard.

The Boufu tried to evade, but it had already been hit by torpedoes and was limping along.

The white lines closed in on the Bofu’s side, and the moment they struck, two massive water columns erupted.

The Bofu’s massive hull tilted. Planes on the deck slid into the ocean. Smoke billowed from below the bridge, where a fire had broken out.

Chijiwa finally realized what was attacking the Hachigami fleet.

A massive submarine force had surrounded them.

Though the Imperial destroyers were scouring the sea, there were far too many submarines to handle. To make matters worse, few destroyers were equipped with the lifting devices needed to cross the great waves. For the Imperial forces, aircraft carriers and battleships were the priority, with destroyers coming last in the budget. Building flying warships required a massive development cost, and there simply wasn’t enough financial leeway in the Imperial coffers to fund destroyers as well.

Even with the air above protected by the Shinden, an attack from the sea hadn’t been seriously anticipated. The enemy had exploited that gap perfectly.

The Imperial doctrine was that only a mobile fleet could defeat another mobile fleet. Naval battles between carriers were meant to be decided by aircraft alone. The Imperial Navy had assumed that air power would settle things and had foolishly relied on that assumption when they engaged in battle.

Bardot had refused to meet them on their chosen battlefield.

Mocking their rigid thinking, Bardot’s forces had launched a massive, silent attack from underwater, without ever using air power. It didn’t matter how strong the Shinden squadron was or how skilled the pilots were.

“This is…”

Chijiwa looked down and groaned. But with his fuel running low, he needed to land on the Unkaku soon. Weaving between the burning friendly carriers, he began searching for his own ship.

The devastation was staggering.

In the context of traditional naval warfare, submarines had always been seen as a tool for commerce raiding, a humble role, often looked down upon by the crews of carriers and battleships. Now, however, submarines had become the main actors in this battle.

Four of the Empire’s prized carriers were in flames. They had no means of defending themselves against submarine attacks and had been repeatedly struck by torpedoes. It was only a matter of time before they sank. Who could have imagined that the damage from submarines would be this catastrophic? It was clear that Hachigami’s fleet had been outmanoeuvred by Bardot.

Amidst this disaster, Chijiwa’s carrier, Unkaku, was somehow still afloat, managing to ascend to 1,000 meters. It must have been a desperate attempt, as all the other carriers were still stuck on the water’s surface.

As Chijiwa, Sugino, and Matsuda landed on the deck of the Unkaku, the mechanics rushed to greet them, setting up ladders and celebrating their safe return.

"Lieutenant! Thank goodness you’re safe!"

Seeing the mechanics, faces black with soot, sobbing in relief, Chijiwa realized that they were the first of the air superiority team to make it back. In the command centre on the bridge, the flight commander and aviation staff, overcome with emotion, welcomed them back as well.

"We were attacked by a massive submarine force. Our Unkaku managed to take off, but the other carriers were hit just as they began lifting off, and they’ve suffered tremendous damage."

"The enemy had stationary targets to shoot at. The Unkaku was lucky. We were far too lax in our anti-submarine patrols..."

The flight commander spoke with a heavy heart.

Because the Unkaku was a flying warship, once it took off, it was safe from submarine attacks. But in order to ascend, the ship had to remain stationary while engaging the lifting devices. That made it an ideal target for the submarines during battle. This weakness had been fully exploited in the current battle. The only carriers left unscathed were the Unkaku and its sister ship, Manazuru. The Manazuru had given up on taking off entirely, opting to flee across the sea, leaving behind a complex wake, and miraculously escaping without a scratch.

Looking at the pale faces of the aviation staff, Chijiwa reported on the status of the aerial battle.

He spoke of the coordinated interception, the threefold enemy air force, the anti-aircraft barrage set by VT fuses that awaited them after breaching the enemy’s perimeter... The more he explained, the more the faces of the staff darkened.

Their aerial attacks had been completely thwarted, and the enemy’s assault had come not from the air, but from the depths of the sea.

There was nothing they could do.

Feeling the weight of despair around him, Chijiwa impulsively offered a suggestion.

"Could the three of us launch a second strike?"

The aviation staff looked at him with puzzled expressions.

"We can equip our Shinden with 250-kilogram bombs and attack the enemy carriers. Our fighters can get through the net that our bombers and torpedo planes cannot."

"But you won’t be able to fight if you’re carrying bombs."

"We don’t need to engage the enemy planes. We’ll fly just above the surface to avoid radar detection. If we can approach their carriers, we’ll win."

"Even if you reach the carriers, you’ll still have to evade the VT-fused anti-aircraft fire to hit them with the bombs. Do you think you can do that?"

"It’ll have to be a surprise attack. We’ll approach undetected and drop the bombs before they can fire at us. Let us give it a try."

"But... at this point, even if three Shinden fighters attack, it won’t achieve much. Keeping Unkaku in the combat zone just to retrieve you would be necessary, but it is too dangerous. We should not take such a risk."

Sugino stepped forward resolutely.

"At least let us fire one more shot! If we end things like this, the souls of the fallen will never find peace!"

Even Matsuda, uncharacteristically, sided with his wingman.

"If it’s just the three of us, we can break through to the Gran Ideal. Even if the damage we inflict is minimal, there is meaning in breaking their interception system here and now."

The aviation officers exchanged glances. Chijiwa pleaded earnestly.

"We must provoke Bardot, enrage him. The meaning of this attack lies in disrupting the enemy commander’s rational thinking."

One of the staff officers climbed the stairs to the bridge, going to request permission from the captain for the attack. After several tense minutes, the officer returned, accompanied by Unkaku's captain, Commander Miyoshi.

"Go. Show Bardot the pride of the Amatsu people."

A jolt of energy ran through the spines of the three members of Chijiwa's squad. Their backs straightened instinctively as Commander Miyoshi, with a stern expression, addressed them.

"Unkaku will remain here waiting for your return. You are not permitted to die."

"Yes, sir!"

Chijiwa’s squad saluted in unison.

The three Shinden were lined up on the aft deck of Unkaku as mechanics rushed over to attach the 250-kilogram bombs. The work took about ten minutes to complete.

While waiting, Chijiwa retreated to the waiting area, received paper and a brush from one of the mechanics, and hastily scribbled something onto a sheet before placing it into a communication tube.

"A paper bomb," he remarked briefly to the puzzled looks from Sugino and Matsuda.

"Mido and Kannonji are dead. It was the Seagull who brought them down."

Both wingmen nodded solemnly.

"Let’s go. This is their memorial battle."

With resolute eyes, Chijiwa gazed into the distance toward the Gran Ideal, where Bardot resided.

"Yes, sir!"

Sugino and Matsuda followed closely behind Chijiwa. Their pride as the strongest Imperial fighter squadron would not allow them to return without striking back.

"We'll attack at dusk. We’ll have to use the twilight to our advantage. Follow my every move until the end."

"Yes, sir!"

"You are not allowed to die. Survival is the top priority. If we’re attacked by enemy planes on the way, drop the bombs immediately. Understood?"

"...Yes, sir."

Chijiwa climbed into his beloved aircraft.

The mechanics finished attaching the bombs and gave him a thumbs-up from the cockpit.

The propellers on the tail of the three bomb-equipped Shinden roared to life.

They accelerated with over boost, rolling down the runway.

Both senior officers and remaining pilots waved their hats to send off Chijiwa’s squad.

With a final salute, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick.

The wheels lifted from the deck, and the demon dogs, each carrying a 250-kilogram bomb in its belly, soared into the air.

Below, the familiar sight of Unkaku grew smaller. Even now, the crew on deck was likely still waving their hats, watching them ascend. Those men, too, were risking their lives, remaining in the combat zone, waiting for Chijiwa’s return.

Not just for Mido and Kannonji.

But also for the captain who approved their mission, the aviation staff, the flight commander, and the crew of Unkaku.

They would evade the enemy’s radar detection, shake off nearly two hundred interceptors, break through the VT-fused anti-aircraft defences, and strike the bombs onto the Gran Ideal.

—Wait for me, Bardot.

—I’ll show you that the Amatsu people are no monkeys.

"Try to stop me, Seagull."

He opened the throttle. With Sugino and Matsuda on either side, Chijiwa descended to fifty meters, aiming his aircraft toward the area where the enemy fleet was patrolling the sea.

With the bombs loaded, the Shinden's speed, turning, and climbing abilities were far below their usual performance. Fighters were agile because they were light, but with a 250-kilogram weight strapped to its belly, it couldn’t compete against more nimble foes. If they had to engage with the Aires IV in this state, even Chijiwa wouldn’t be able to win or escape. If they jettisoned the bombs and entered dogfights, they might survive, but that would mean losing the chance to damage the Gran Ideal.

The key was to avoid being spotted until they reached the Royal Army's cross-shaped formation. If they were picked up by radar or visually spotted by enemy planes, it was over. Chijiwa’s squad needed to conduct an extremely difficult stealth operation.

The three planes flew as close together as possible, maintaining an altitude of fifty meters.

As they approached the waters patrolled by enemy picket destroyers, Chijiwa began lowering their altitude further. To avoid radar detection, they had to fly as low as possible. However, flying in a tight formation at such low altitude placed immense stress on the pilots. They focused every bit of concentration, keeping an eye on each other and the ocean surface while occasionally catching glimpses of Est Miranda Island in the corner of their right eyes as they flew at 550 kilometres per hour.

It was now 4:20 PM. The cloud cover had increased since the morning. While clouds wouldn’t hide them from radar, having them was better than not. Even if they were spotted by enemy planes, the clouds would provide some cover.

Flying at just twenty meters, they were crawling across the sea like soldiers creeping forward in a prone position. Doing everything to avoid being detected, Chijiwa concealed himself behind the waves, inching closer and closer to the enemy fleet.

He kept a wary eye on the skies above. The closer they got to the enemy fleet, the higher the chance they would be detected by radar. The best way to evade radar detection was to hide in the perfect "shelter."

And there it was.

A sly grin tugged at the corner of Chijiwa’s mouth.

Scanning the surrounding airspace and confirming the position of the clouds, Chijiwa pulled back on the control stick. He concealed himself behind the cover of clouds, relying on the instincts and experience he had honed through years of aerial combat, climbing swiftly to 4,000 meters to get a look at his "shelter."

It was a formation of thirty Aires IV interceptors.

This was likely a detachment of the original 200-plane squadron they had encountered earlier. After wiping out the Imperial air superiority team, they had split into smaller groups, hunting down any stragglers. Perhaps they were planning to ambush the returning Imperial attack squadrons, having witnessed the destructive power of the VT-fused anti-aircraft guns. From their confident posture, it was clear they were looking forward to bragging about their "monkey hunt" among their comrades.

Chijiwa’s squad quietly tailed them.

Always keeping the sun at their backs, staying just far enough to be detected by the enemy radar as "part of the Royal Army’s air force," they skilfully shadowed the enemy formation like a cunning fox.

—These idiots will lead us straight to the Gran Ideal.

With a devilish grin on his face, Chijiwa kept his guard up, stealthily and expertly blending into the formation like a remora attaching itself to the school of Aires IV planes.

Eventually—

A sinister smile spread across Chijiwa’s face.

"Thanks for the escort, you fools."

Ahead of the Aires IV formation, a brilliant cross-shaped flower bloomed on the sea surface.

It was Bardot’s mobile fleet. A perfect cross-shaped formation with destroyers arranged in a 2.5-kilometer radius around the central carriers, their anti-aircraft guns pointed skyward.

Dusk had fallen. It was the time of day when spotting enemies or allies became difficult. Chijiwa had the golden evening sun at his back. As long as the enemy radar continued to misidentify him as a Royal Army plane, all he had to do was fool their eyes. It was precisely because there were only three of them conducting this stealth mission that they were able to slip through unnoticed.

The Aires IV formation that had led them there began to descend, preparing to land on one of the outer perimeter carriers, a medium-sized escort carrier. They could drop their bombs on that escort carrier right then and there, but that wouldn’t be as satisfying. Their real target was Bardot’s flagship, the Gran Ideal. They wanted to hit him where it hurt.

Staying hidden in the clouds, peeking out from time to time like glancing through the folds of a blanket, Chijiwa assessed the surrounding airspace.

It seemed most of the enemy's attention was on recovering their own planes. Above each of the five formations, planes were circling, waiting for their turn to land. The largest and densest swirl of aircraft was in the centre formation, marking Bardot’s main fleet, with the Gran Ideal at its core.

Confirming his target, Chijiwa carefully closed in. The abundance of clouds in this area was a gift from the heavens. Perhaps the Imperial pilots who had perished earlier in this battle were now lending their support. With cover provided by the large clouds flowing high and low through the sky, Chijiwa managed to blend into the vortex of enemy planes.

Below him lay the imposing figure of the Gran Ideal.

Calmly recovering its squadrons, basking in the triumph of the day. He could see enemy pilots landing on the deck, pumping their fists in victory as they joined their comrades in celebrating and boasting about their number of kills.

Somewhere in that crowd, the Seagull was likely among them.

Perhaps bragging to his comrades about how he took down Mido and Kannonji.

Just the thought of it made Chijiwa want to pull the trigger on his machine guns.

He wanted to attack right away, but he held back. The enemy's attention was fully focused on the deck, and they had no idea that a Shinden was lurking right above them. Holding his nerve, he continued to fly confidently, blending in with the Royal Army's movements, waiting for the right moment.

The sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting a fiery red glow across the sky.

The western sky was stained with a deep crimson, as if it were the blood of all the Imperial pilots who had died in this battle. Their regret was palpable in Chijiwa’s chest.

—Mido. Kannonji. Watch over me.

Chijiwa prayed. Praying as he gripped the control stick, waiting for the right moment.

Before the sun fully set, all the landing operations were completed.

The darkening blue of the sky descended, caught by the lingering red of the sunset in the west. Along the horizon, a fiery red burned like a wildfire, illuminating the night below.

The time was ripe.

—Now.

Emerging from the clouds, they suddenly initiated a descent from 4,000 meters. The 250-kilogram bomb strapped beneath them accelerated the process more than usual.

The target, the Gran Ideal, was about 5,000 meters away in horizontal distance.

The night’s colours descending from the zenith helped conceal the silhouette of Shinden’s jet-black form.

A line of destroyers equipped with anti-aircraft guns approached. If they were caught by the VT fuses, it would all be over.

"Please, don't notice us," he prayed.

With the propeller noise now impossible to hide, Chijiwa dove at a 40-degree angle from windward. His two wingmen followed his descent line.

Ahead, beyond the windscreen, the massive silhouette of the Gran Ideal loomed, rising from the blood-red surface of the sea. Bardot was there. The Seagull was there. It was time to deliver retribution to those who had buried so many of his allies.

The night was protecting them. The enemy still mistook Shinden for a friendly aircraft. Let them remain in their post-victory celebrations. Let them believe that there were no more Imperial aircraft in this sky.

As they neared the point where they could be seen by the naked eye from the enemy ship, Chijiwa performed a meaningful bank, flickering the formation lights on both wings in a random rhythm. It was a signal that meant nothing, but if it caused the enemy's anti-aircraft gunners to hesitate to pull the trigger, it would be enough.

With a silent prayer, Chijiwa’s squadron flew over the destroyer fleet.

"If we had radios, I would have sent a message saying, 'We have successfully ambushed the enemy.'"

He muttered the words to himself as he looked into the bombing sight. The massive deck of the enemy's flagship filled the crosshairs, so large it spilled over the edges. There were no enemy interceptors in sight, and the anti-aircraft fire had not yet bloomed into a deadly ring.

He licked his lips. At this point, they could do whatever they wanted to the massive enemy aircraft carrier. It was an exhilarating sensation that he could never experience in air-to-air combat with fighter planes.

The target was the forward lift.

It was the elevator used to raise aircraft from the hangar to the upper deck. Destroying it would render the carrier’s combat power nearly useless.

It had been a year since he last practiced bombing with a fighter-bomber, but his body still remembered the movements.

The distance to the target closed to 800 meters. His hand moved to the bomb release lever.

Seven hundred, six hundred. The enemy’s silhouette grew larger in the sight. The upper deck was still lined with Aires IVs, and pilots and mechanics were staring up at him with bewildered expressions.

At five hundred meters, the enemy finally realized that Chijiwa’s squadron was hostile. Chijiwa, with great satisfaction, watched as the Imperial soldiers on the deck scrambled to flee.

At four hundred meters, now within a distance that guaranteed a hit, he yanked the bomb release lever with a devilish grin. Instantly, the aircraft felt lighter.

The 250-kilogram bomb crashed into the forward lift of the Gran Ideal, and at the same moment, Chijiwa pulled the nose of Shinden up at an altitude of 10 meters.

A massive pillar of fire erupted. It was almost as if he could hear the screams of the enemy crew.

As he ascended, Chijiwa looked back. First Sugino, then Matsuda, dropped their bombs in quick succession. Since they had followed Chijiwa’s descent line, their hits were also guaranteed.

Second and third spears drove into the wound Chijiwa had opened.

Explosion after explosion followed. The hangar was surely engulfed in flames by now.

As he climbed back into the sky, Chijiwa looked down at the burning Gran Ideal, laughing scornfully.

He was in a triumphant mood. The thick pillar of fire rising from the dark ocean showed that take-offs and landings would be impossible for a while. The enemy was flustered, doing nothing but running around in confusion. The surrounding destroyers couldn’t locate Shinden in the night, and the aircraft carrier, without anti-aircraft guns of its own, could do nothing but take the beating.

He wanted to stomp on them even more.

Such a thought bloomed deep in Chijiwa’s chest.

Unable to suppress the urge, he led Sugino and Matsuda in another turn, aiming for the airspace directly above the Gran Ideal once more.

The only armament mounted on the Gran Ideal was a 15 cm gun turret, the same as those on heavy cruisers. The carrier had not been designed with anti-aircraft defence in mind but with naval gun battles in mind. With its interceptors grounded, the Gran Ideal was helpless against Chijiwa’s squadron.

To further mock Bardot, Chijiwa deliberately circled the bridge before lowering his altitude and opening the canopy.

He then tossed a communication tube onto the deck.

It bounced off a barricade filled with cushioning materials between the frenzied, fire-fighting crew and came to a stop.

“Are you watching, Seagull?”

Chijiwa murmured as he looked down at the crew of the Gran Ideal. He confirmed that Sugino and Matsuda were flying at his sides, neither too close nor too far. The sight awakened a mischievous impulse within him.

Extending a hand out from the open canopy, he signalled with his fingers.

He spun his finger in a circle, then held up three fingers.

Sugino’s eyes widened with excitement, while Matsuda twisted his mouth into a troubled frown.

With a sly grin, Chijiwa gave Matsuda a look, and Matsuda reluctantly nodded.

“Let’s go. Three times.”

He opened the throttle, gaining speed.

Chijiwa’s squadron climbed into the indigo sky. The remnants of the western sunset dyed their jet-black forms a blood-red, standing out in the twilight.

On the third floor of the Gran Ideal’s bridge, the fleet command centre:

The full smile that had adorned Bardot’s face earlier had vanished entirely.

All that remained now was rage.

His face wrinkled up like a bulldog, as he glared up at the enemy aircraft performing acrobatics right above his great carrier.

An aviation officer, holding the telephone connected to a neighbouring ship, informed Bardot.

“They report that the anti-aircraft guns are ready. Should we fire?”

Bardot, after a moment of silence, responded without turning toward the officer.

“They should have fired two minutes ago.”

“…Understood.”

“Don’t fire a single shot. Let this humiliation burn into their guts. Make sure they don’t make the same mistake again. Relay that message to every ship in the ring formation.”

“…Yes, sir.”

After having the order relayed to all the ships, Bardot gazed up into the night.

“...Impressive.”

The three aircraft of Shinden executed a perfect loop over the Gran Ideal.

Dodging radar detection and the threat of VT fuses, they had bombed the Gran Ideal flawlessly. Now, as if to rub it in, the three aircraft performed a formation loop above the enemy carrier.

They could be shot down at any moment if the VT fuses were activated.

But Bardot had no intention of doing so.

He decided it was best to let the entire crew of the Bardot Mobile Fleet experience this humiliation. Moreover, Bardot had noticed the artwork painted on the nose of the lead aircraft.

"That’s the Demon Dog, isn't it?"

The flight deck crew, pilots, and mechanics stood stunned, watching the aerial display.

"Damn monkeys."

He muttered with seething hatred just as a flight officer entered the command centre, accompanied by a translator.

In the officer’s hand was the communication tube that the Demon Dog had dropped.

“There was a letter inside, written in the Amatsukami language. I’ll translate it.”

The translator pulled the letter from the communication tube and began reading it aloud in front of Bardot.

"To the commander of the Gran Ideal Air Squadron. Well done today. The ones you shot down were my friends. Next time, I will make sure you know it's me by painting the Seagull’s symbol. It feels wrong to leave this at one win and one loss. Let’s settle this once and for all with one of us dead. Second Lieutenant Chijiwa Takeo, Special Operations Officer of the Unkaku Air Squadron."

A crazed grin spread across Bardot’s face.

"A challenge from the Demon Dog to the Seagull."

"It appears so. He doesn't seem to understand the difference between modern warfare and knightly duels."

Colonel Ramon’s comment was met with a strained reply from Bardot.

“How amusing. That Samurai pilot dreams of a battlefield where the bravest warriors from both sides step forward to settle things.”

The Demon Dog entered a third massive loop.

The Imperial forces still hadn’t fired a single anti-aircraft shell. Disrupting this aerial display would be discourteous by a knight’s standards. Everyone silently watched the perfectly synchronized, iron-solid formation manoeuvres, a feat only possible from a squadron that had survived countless aerial battles together.

Bardot’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.

“Are you watching, Seagull? The Demon Dog is mocking you right before your eyes.”

The third vertical loop over the Gran Ideal ended.

The Demon Dog, having completed its performance, flew off into the night, as if saluting the proud Imperial forces who had behaved as knights.

Watching their retreating figures, Bardot’s face contorted into a fearsome grin.

“Demon Dog, I’ll grant you your wish. I’ll prepare the perfect stage for you. Carve your Samurai soul into this cursed battlefield.”

Bardot couldn’t tell if his thoughts were rational or insane, but he knew that he was responding to the madness carried by the Demon Dog. Despite receiving such humiliation from the one he had mocked as a monkey, he felt exhilarated. Perhaps, despite basing his strategies around an overwhelming superiority of steel machines, some part of him still yearned for the romanticism of an ancient battlefield.

He had never seen such a beautiful formation loop before.

Three Shinden aircraft drew a flawless vertical circle in the sky.

In a normal air show, he would applaud the display so vigorously his hands would hurt.

But now—

Standing on the upper deck of the burning Gran Ideal, observing the frenzied firefighting efforts of the crew, the only thing burning in the young man’s chest was pure determination.

Looking up, he saw the three Shinden executing their loops in the deep indigo sky. The vast sky was the ballroom of the Demon Dog.

His entire body was covered in goosebumps.

Finally, he had encountered the "sworn enemy" he had been seeking in the sky all this time.

He had never forgotten. Every time he flew, he searched for Beagle among the enemy planes.

No one loved the sky more than he did. The thought of losing in the sky was unbearable.

The one and only opponent who had defeated him in a head-on fight.

Even the second encounter had not been his victory. Back then, he was only saved by the quick thinking of his "pair" in the backseat, and in terms of a proper fight, he had lost. The only time someone had ever broken his perfectly executed Ismael Turn was that single instance.

He wanted another chance.

He wanted to face Beagle in a fighter again.

That desire alone had brought the young man back to the battlefield sky.

And now, right before his eyes, the long-awaited enemy was dancing. Moreover, the ballroom Beagle had chosen was directly over the Gran Ideal, the ship Bardot had publicly declared would not be touched. The enemy's courage and cunning were impressive, even commendable.

He wanted to risk everything.

Without interference from anyone.

He wanted a one-on-one duel with that great pilot.

"I wonder if you know, Beagle," the young man said, sending his words into the sky where they wouldn’t reach.

"You are my admiration."

He had fought many pilots, but the only one he had ever admired was Beagle. In their direct confrontation, he realized that Beagle surpassed him in every skill. And more than anything, from their two clashes, Beagle’s determination to never lose in the sky had been conveyed to him through the very air they flew in.

The three Shinden planes finished their loop and waved their wings as they flew away. All the young man could do was watch them go. His clenched fist almost seemed to bleed from the force.

"I want to shoot you down."

He wanted to defeat Beagle head-on, precisely because he respected him more than anyone else. It was a natural desire for someone who lived in the sky.

Just then, someone called out his name.

Not his real name. It was the false name given to him upon re-joining the ranks. He still felt a sense of discomfort whenever he was called by it, and sometimes didn’t respond. When he turned, Colonel Ramon was there with a difficult expression on his face.

"The Commander Bardot wants to speak with you directly."

"…?"

"A love letter has arrived. From the Demon Dog to the Seagull."

A shiver ran down the Seagull’s spine. When he was escorted to the bridge command centre, he found Commander Bardot with a complex expression mixing frustration, bitterness, and amusement.

"We can't just let those monkeys have their way forever," Bardot growled.

A staff officer beside him explained the contents of the letter dropped by the Demon Dog to the Seagull.

The Seagull was familiar with the contents. During today's aerial battle, he had encountered three extraordinarily tough Shinden aircraft. He had managed to shoot down two of them through secret techniques, but their side was so exhausted that they had to flee from the third. Although he hadn't confirmed the nose art, that third one had to be Beagle.

One of the staff officers asked, "Can you manage a night-time take-off and landing on the carrier?"

"No problem."

"And night-time single-plane oversea navigation?"

"If you emit longwave signals on my return, I’ll have no issue."

"Hm," Colonel Ramon nodded confidently, and Bardot's cheek lifted in a smirk.

"Deliver a reply to the enemy carrier. Just you."

"…"

"I’ve already written the letter for you, using your codename."

The Seagull accepted the reckless order without hesitation.

Later, Chijiwa and his wingmen, Sugino and Matsuda, safely landed on the deck of the Unkaku and headed to the air command post to report.

After reporting their success to the senior officers waiting for them, everyone’s eyes widened in astonishment. Then Captain Miyoshi himself addressed the three members of Chijiwa’s squadron.

"You’ve broken through the enemy's interception system and delivered three direct hits to the enemy fleet's flagship. A magnificent achievement. I'm sure even the fallen soldiers are somewhat satisfied. Though we've lost this sea battle, thanks to you, we have glimpsed a ray of hope. You are the gods of war. I am proud to have encountered pilots like you."

There could be no greater praise. Chijiwa and his men stood tall as they received the words.

Sugino and Matsuda received the wine and dried provisions offered, and the three returned to the deck of the Unkaku. Without their superior officers around, Matsuda smiled.

"It was a good call not to report the challenge and the formation loop."

"…Yeah."

"I was secretly worried you might mention it, Lieutenant."

"…I’m learning to navigate these things."

If they had boasted about it unnecessarily, even with their achievements, they would have been scolded for treating the battlefield like a child's playground.

"…A lot happened today," Sugino said quietly, gazing out over the ocean.

The Unkaku was now flying at an altitude of 1,000 meters to avoid submarines. Below, four of the Imperial Navy’s regular carriers were about to sink into the ocean. They had given up on continuing Operation Ho and were preparing for scuttling. To prevent the enemy from capturing the hulls, they would sink the ships themselves.

Soon, the friendly destroyers fired torpedoes, and the four regular carriers erupted in massive water columns before sinking into the depths.

The three of them silently watched the sinking silhouettes. Some ships went down bow first, while others raised both their bow and stern, dragging a melancholic metallic groan with them as they spiralled into the sea. The once-proud carriers of the invincible Eight Gods Mobile Fleet were swallowed by the ocean one by one.

After the whirlpools subsided, the sea returned to its usual calm.

Chijiwa could already see the future direction of the war.

"This war is lost."

They had lost four of their six prized regular carriers. But that wasn’t the fatal blow.

The real tragedy was the loss of nearly all their skilled pilots in the Battle of Est Miranda.

Their fighter pilots had been wiped out by enemy radar detection, and the veterans of the bomber and torpedo squadrons had been shot down by VT fuses. In the Imperial system, which required 1,000 hours to train a single pilot, this was a loss too great to recover from. From now on, the Imperial Air Force would be staffed by inexperienced pilots with little training time. And the once-invincible Shinden aircraft were no longer what they had been at the start of the war. Now, in terms of piloting skills, aircraft performance, and sheer numbers, the Imperial forces had surpassed them. In future battles, their casualties would only increase.

At that moment...

He heard an unfamiliar propeller sound in the night.

“…Hm?”

He exchanged glances with his wingmen. They recognized the heavy, familiar hum—it was the sound of an Aires IV propeller.

Judging from the sound, it was a single aircraft.

Blending into the darkness, it approached as if it could see the Unkaku.

In that instant, a sense of foreboding made Chijiwa's hair stand on end.

He stared into the night. The moon, hidden behind the clouds, peeked out, and in the starry light, he saw a pale gray silhouette approaching.

The crew of the Unkaku also noticed the anomaly but were too stunned to respond immediately.

Just like Chijiwa had done earlier to the Gran Ideal, the Aires IV leisurely approached the deck of the Unkaku and dropped a communication tube from the cockpit. The tube bounced twice on the deck before hitting the rear deck's safety net and coming to a stop.

“Bring it to me.”

Chijiwa ran over to the mechanic who suspiciously picked up the communication tube. Overhead, the audacious Aires IV began looping over the carrier as if tracing Chijiwa’s movements.

Its course was perfect. The graceful flight path conveyed the skill of the pilot.

“Seagull…!”

Chijiwa didn’t need to see who it was to know. This was likely a playful retaliation for what his squadron had done earlier to the Gran Ideal.

“Fire—!”

The gunnery chief's shout tore through the night.

In an instant, the Unkaku’s heavy anti-aircraft guns roared, unleashing relentless fire on the insolent Aires IV.

"You idiot! Don't shoot!!"

Chijiwa yelled, but the Imperial forces didn’t understand humour like the Royal forces. They were furious at being mocked and fired off a grand display of anti-aircraft fire.

The Seagull mockingly flew through the barrage with ease, looping once more before disappearing, its wings waving farewell. The anti-aircraft guns of the Unkaku futilely chased its retreating form.

An hour later, Chijiwa received the translation of the letter that had been in the communication tube from the aviation staff.

“To the Demon Dog of Sion Island.

We thoroughly enjoyed your challenge and formation loop earlier. As you requested, I will paint the Seagull’s symbol and come to meet you. Please inform your squadron that our duel is not to be interfered with. One win and one loss doesn’t sit well with me either. Let’s settle this once and for all with one of our deaths.

Gran Ideal Air Squadron Commander ‘Seagull’.”

It was unmistakably a reply to his love letter. They had risked their lives to deliver their true feelings to each other.

The Seagull wanted to settle the score in a one-on-one duel. That realization alone filled Chijiwa with indescribable joy.

He was questioned about the challenge and formation loop by the senior officers and was scolded harshly when he told them the truth, but his heart continued to race with excitement.

"The Seagull has answered."

"The next time we meet, we’ll duel."

"The winner will be the one who survives, and the loser will die."

"Simple. It's the ultimate match."

Standing alone on the upper deck, staring at the sky where the Seagull had disappeared, Chijiwa eagerly awaited the moment.

Bathed in the light of the moon and stars, his thoughts burned with anticipation. He drank with the survivors of the Unkaku Air Squadron, flying through the sky of defeat. The Unkaku was heading toward Awashima’s Daidoarai stronghold to regroup the Combined Fleet.

As he sipped his drink, the images of the temple and Kannon shrine flitted across his mind.

They had always been prepared to die in this sky. They had sworn to keep flying until their lives ended. From now on, he would fly the battlefields of the sky with their souls alongside him.

Even if Amatsukami lost this war...

"I will never lose in aerial combat."

"Wait for me, Seagull."

"I’ll be the one to shoot you down into the sea."

As he made this lonely vow, the sky above him glittered with countless stars.

For some reason, he suddenly had an urge to hear Yuki’s song.