Volume 6: The Recapture Operation
Chapter 77: The Pilot
“This is Hawk One. Command, please respond. Over.”
“Hawk One, this is Command. Signal is clear. Report. Over.”
On the battlefield where the armies of the Lunoa Kingdom and the Friez Kingdom faced one another in a tense standoff, the thunder of artillery still echoed relentlessly across the land.
And yet…
The sky above was eerily, unnaturally quiet.
No enemy in sight.
It was, for all intents and purposes, completely under the dominion of the Friez Kingdom.
Inside a reconnaissance aircraft—escorted by magic aerial soldiers—a pilot calmly relayed observations of the situation below, his voice steady despite the tension coiled in the air.
“Currently at altitude three thousand. Visual confirmation of Lunoa ground forces.”
“Estimate their scale?”
“At least infantry company size. Artillery positions confirmed in the rear… wait, there’s movement.”
“Report in detail.”
“Enemy troops are beginning to leave the trenches. They’re equipping themselves, forming ranks… This is… preparation for an offensive?”
“Acknowledged. Offensive preparations confirmed.”
“Southeast from our position. They’re deploying toward our front lines. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Estimate their scale?”
“Hard to say… it looks like only part of the force has moved so far. But it wouldn’t be strange if this develops into a large-scale advance. We should remain cautious.”
“Understood, Hawk One. We’ll notify frontline units immediately. Continue surveillance.”
“Roger. …Enemy artillery is adjusting aim. Signs of imminent firing. I repeat—high probability of bombardment.”
“We’ll issue an alert to the front lines. Hawk One, continue monitoring enemy movements.”
“Understood. This is Hawk One, continuing aerial surveill—no, wait!”
For the first time, the pilot’s voice cracked—his composure breaking.
“Visual on an enemy aircraft formation approaching our position. Number approximately… six!”
“Enemy aircraft formation? At this stage? The Lunoa air force is moving again? Do they have some kind of strategy?”
“…I don’t know. I’ll keep watching.”
“Understood. Hawk One—good luck.”
The transmission cut, leaving a heavy silence inside the cockpit.
“…Do they have some kind of plan…?”
The pilot’s quiet murmur seemed to dissolve into the vast emptiness of the sky.
“Heh. That’s not something you need to worry about, pilot. We’ll take care of those enemy planes.”
The voice came from beside him—a magic aerial soldier, calm and confident, as if the outcome had already been decided.
“I’m counting on you, but… it’s not like I can feel completely at ease.”
“I get it. But we’re soldiers. Fighting is what we do. I’ll move ahead a bit. Whatever happens, we can’t let them shoot you down.”
Compared to the aircraft, a single magic aerial soldier possessed far superior mobility.
If the goal was to probe the enemy’s intentions—a test of strength—then they were the ideal choice.
The soldier raised his rifle and slowly drifted away from the aircraft, advancing toward the approaching enemy.
“…No, wait. What is that aircraft? I’ve never seen anything like—”
As the escort moved ahead, the pilot narrowed his eyes at the incoming Lunoa aircraft, a flicker of unease tightening his chest.
“…A machine gun?”
Something that shouldn’t have been there.
The sight made him instinctively tilt his head in confusion.
“…No way.”
In aerial combat, for an aircraft to fight another, it would need to be equipped with a gun—simple enough in theory.
But there was one critical problem.
If bullets were fired straight ahead, they would strike the propeller, destroying it and sending the aircraft plummeting to the ground.
That was precisely why the Friez Kingdom had developed flight magic—to dominate the skies. Instead of modifying their aircraft for combat, they had chosen to rely on external escorts—magic aerial soldiers—to fight on their behalf.
“…Don’t tell me… it can actually fire?”
The pilot swallowed hard, his voice trembling despite himself.
“H-Hold on!”
The mounted machine gun.
The possibility that it might fire—
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he shouted instinctively, as though his voice alone could halt what was about to happen.
“Charge.”
But before his warning could reach them, half of the magic aerial soldiers escorting the Friez formation surged forward, launching themselves toward the approaching Lunoa aircraft.
And then—
“…Ah.”
A thunderous roar tore through the sky.
The sound reached him a fraction of a second later.
And reflected in the pilot’s eyes—
was a grotesque bloom of flesh, bursting open in midair like a crimson flower.