This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 470 Eagle Soars Through the Sky

Chapter 470: Chapter 470 Eagle Soars Through the Sky

In the night sky,

The flames of machine guns continued to roar.

Even though more than half had been lost, and the ground battle had already ended, the First Flight Squadron of the Falcon Kingdom had no intention of retreating.

With gritted teeth, Akant glared at the remaining 5 "Mosquito-style" fighters, his eyes flickering with flames of hatred as he pressed the machine gun and roared,

"Go to hell!!"

The mission was no longer important.

The only thing he wanted to do at this moment was to send the opposing pilot to Hell!

He wanted vengeance for his fallen comrades!

The aircraft he had locked on to performed a barrel roll in the air, with the orange-yellow tracers almost grazing the canopy.

Watching the enemy plane climb and turn upward, Akant clicked his tongue and forcefully pulled up on the control stick, chasing after it.

This cunning Mosquito!

Pressing the walkie-talkie on his shoulder, Akant commanded in a deep voice,

"Leave that shark-headed plane to me; you guys take care of the rest!"

Answers came through the communication channel.

"Roger that!"

Ironically, the guy he had bitten onto was actually named Mosquito.

Mosquito, sitting in the cockpit, cursed under his breath and quickly glanced back at the pursuing "Eagle Type," pulling up while sharply hitting the left rudder, performing a 180-degree roll along the Z-axis.

The enormous gravitational acceleration tore at every cell in his body, making the already dark night sky appear even darker.

But all this was only in an instant.

He successfully completed nearly a 180-degree turn in midair, passing closely by the diagonally chasing aircraft!

And it did not fall apart!

"...Damn it, take this jump!"

Watching the silhouette that flew past the cockpit, the relieved Mosquito, calmed his wildly beating heart and prepared to strike back, seizing the hard-earned opportunity.

This guy had some tricks up his sleeve!

But—

He wasn’t just muddling through his days.

"Only 36 rounds left in reserve... this is the only chance!"

Glancing quickly at the updated mission on the VM screen, Mosquito stretched out his index finger to turn off the window, then turned on the onboard radio and shouted,

"Attention, all teammates! Our mission is complete! Command has ordered us to return to base at our discretion, but these annoying mos—err, these flies clearly don’t plan to let us leave without a fuss!"

He grinned, gripping the control stick tightly in both hands.

"How fortunate, I’m not the type to tuck tail and run either!"

"Follow my lead—"

"Take them out!"

Chaotic responses came through the communication channel.

"Ooh rah!"

"Charge!"

"Let’s fight them!!!"

Tactical strategies switched from buying time to a "tit-for-tat," and the Alliance fighters’ offense suddenly became aggressive.

Akant felt a slight annoyance but also some relief.

There wasn’t much fuel left in his tank, and he had less than fifty rounds of ammunition... this game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end.

However, it was at this moment that a voice from the ground command post suddenly came over the communication channel.

"...The Iron Heart is moving towards true north. Your mission is over. Return to the frontline airports immediately before you come within range of the Iron Heart!"

The Iron Heart?!

Akant was startled.

Having participated in the Battle of the City of Abundance, he knew all too well about its anti-air capabilities; a salvo could create a firepower net in the air that formed an impenetrable curtain.

Looking at the small aircraft dodging left and right ahead of him, he bit down and responded, "Roger," then switched to the squadron channel.

"...All units, pay attention, the Iron Heart is repositioning. We have five more minutes, and then we must return immediately after five minutes!"

Just as his voice fell, a shadow suddenly emerged from the distant clouds.

A tri-engine transport plane suddenly burst into the battlefield.

At first, Akant thought he was seeing things.

After all, why would a transport aircraft dare to join the fray during a dogfight?

But he quickly realized he wasn’t mistaken.

The arriving aircraft was the Alliance’s H-1 "Dragonfly," and like other Alliance planes, it bore some gaudy, strange patterns on its body.

Seeing that the plane wasn’t armed, Akant didn’t rush to shoot it down; instead, he glanced at the onboard radar screen and commanded through the communication channel,

"...Scorpion-tail lion-1, Scorpion-tail lion-2, go check out the situation with that plane."

Since it was a non-combat unit,

It might be possible to capture it.

Upon Akant’s order, two "Eagle Fighters" immediately left the battlefield and approached the peculiar transport plane.

Mosquito also saw that aircraft, and a look of surprise crossed his face.

What’s going on?

Weren’t the transport fleets already on their way back? Why had they returned?

If it had been a gunship, it would have been understandable, but it was an unarmed standard model that had returned.

Mosquito instinctively glanced at the VM strapped to his right leg; there were no new orders, nor any intelligence about this plane.

Due to the transport aircraft’s sudden entrance into the battlefield, both sides of the firefight fell into a brief hesitation.

Akant awaited his teammates’ response.

At that moment, "Scorpion-tail lion-1’s" voice came through the communication channel,

"...Captain, there’s something odd about that plane."

Akant was slightly taken aback and immediately asked,

"What did you see?"

After a brief pause, his teammate responded through the channel,

"In the cockpit... there seems to be no one."

"No one?!" Akant was stunned.

Could it be an unmanned vehicle?!

The Alliance did have drones, but this was the first time he’d seen this model.

The pilot continued to report.

"We found...the co-pilot seat is empty, and it seems like something has grown on the rudder. I can’t see it very clearly. I need to get a bit closer."

Akant warned.

"Be careful."

"Roger!"

Two "Eagle Type" planes flew respectively on the left and right sides of the "Dragonfly" Transport plane.

One of them, with the call sign "Scorpion-tail lion-1," approached the cockpit of the "Dragonfly," its wingtip almost touching the cockpit glass.

He switched his onboard radio to a similar frequency and shouted at the "Dragonfly."

"This is the Falcon Kingdom’s First Flight Squadron, you have been hijacked by us, please follow our directions to fly."

"If you refuse, you will be shot down."

There was only a buzz of static in the communication channel, no response.

The pilot frowned.

The pitch-dark canopy always gave him a sense of unease.

Just when he was about to get closer, a gentle moonbeam happened to pass through the clouds and shone upon the dark canopy.

The instant he saw what was inside, he froze.

The entire cockpit was filled with crimson traces.

Not just the rudder—

The entire console was filled with an unknown blocky substance.

"Damn it..." he cursed under his breath.

What the hell was this?!

Having grown up in Oasis No. 2, he had never seen "mutated slime fungus" before, but from the ferocious crimson, he felt a hint of fear inherent to his biological instincts.

He instinctively leaned the rudder to the left, trying to distance himself from this nauseating creature. However, it was then that the abnormality suddenly occurred.

The cockpit glass exploded into countless shards in an instant, and two whip-like tentacles shot out like bullets, violently lashing towards him and another teammate’s cockpit.

"Ah—!"

Pain made him cry out.

He looked at the crimson tentacle piercing his chest in terror, watching countless fine lines burrow into his wounds and veins like innumerable earthworms...

His body had lost control.

An electric current-like numbness took over every cell in his body.

Yet, it was at this moment that a long, siren-like whisper came through the communication channel, pouring into his ears, soaking into his soul.

"Yi wu—"

The tentacles connecting the cockpits were severed by the howling wind.

Pressed against the "Dragonfly," the "Eagle Type" skewed its body, like a baby cut from the umbilical cord, separating from the mother entity.

But the murmuring that echoed in the communication channel continued, like whispers from a devil.

Amidst those murmurs, the pilot sitting in the driver’s seat gradually lost the spark in his pupils and dropped his head, unaware of the captain’s shouting.

"...Static..."

"...Scorpion-tail lion-1, what’s your situation! I see your canopy has a hole! Report your status immediately!"

"...Static..."

The anomaly persisted for nearly half a minute.

Chaotic noises continued to pour into his ears.

The drooping head suddenly jerked up, and the once lifeless pupils were now bloodshot and had turned crimson.

He stared straight into the northern night sky.

The murmuring in his ears was also gradually becoming clearer.

’Go help him—’

’That’s your father.’

Father?

’Yes, he’s in danger.’

Danger...

The blood-red pupils took on a bloodthirsty hue, and his parched lips partingly succinctly responded to the murmuring.

"Yes..."

The sudden anomaly stunned everyone.

Both the Alliance and the Falcon pilots.

Staring at the two "Eagle Type" planes that suddenly lost control in the distance, Akant roared into the radio.

"Scorpion-tail lion-1! Scorpion-tail lion-2! Respond if you hear me! If you are still alive, respond—Damn it! Fuck!"

He angrily cut off the communication, flames of fury burning fiercer in his eyes.

Two more—

He didn’t know what treacherous tactics the Alliance had used, only saw something seemed to strike those two planes.

Perhaps the pilots had pulled out automatic rifles or something else.

But whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.

That guy had refused their kind persuasion!

Right now, Akant had only one thing on his mind, and that was revenge!

"Shoot it down! Take that transport plane down!"

An equally angry response came through the communication channel.

"Yes!"

An "Eagle Fighter" abandoned the "Mosquito-style" that was already spewing black smoke and charged straight at the transport plane.

"Go to hell!"

The pilot in the cockpit angrily pressed the fire button, and the machine guns at the front of the aircraft immediately spewed out torrents of flames.

Tracers hit the left wing of the transport plane. Its engine smoked, and the plane began to slow down and descend.

The "Eagle Type" reduced speed, preparing to fire a burst into the right engine as well.

However, it was then that the anomaly happened again.

The previously out-of-control "Scorpion-tail lion-2" suddenly pitched up its nose, doing an inconceivable one hundred and eighty-degree barrel roll in the air, positioning itself at its stunned teammate.

It was too late to accelerate—

A moment’s hesitation prevented him from pressing the fire button.

However, his "teammate" didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

Almost the instant their nose cons aligned, the propeller’s front end spewed a thick tongue of fire.

"Boom—!"

Amid the roaring of the machine guns, the "Eagle" that was chasing the "Dragonfly" instantly had its propeller, cockpit, and fuel tank blown to pieces, and in a moment, it became a burning fireball in the sky.

They didn’t even have a chance to bail out...

Akant watched the ball of flames in shock, then turned to look at the "Scorpion-tail lion-2" that had suddenly opened fire on a friendly aircraft.

He couldn’t understand.

What on earth had happened.

The "Mosquito" he had been tailing was also shocked, staring dumbfounded at the "little fly" that had suddenly turned its guns to strike a friendly.

What surprised him wasn’t that the guy had suddenly turned traitor.

It was the smooth and swift one hundred eighty-degree turning maneuver—

"Fuck! The Immelmann turn?!"

The two "Eagles" went their separate ways, one dashing north, while the other streaked straight toward the chaotic battlefield.

While Mosquito was still dumbstruck, a teammate’s shout came through the comm channel.

Gui Gui: "Boss, should we shoot it down?"

Mosquito quickly said,

"Don’t touch him for now! The enemy of our enemy is our friend!"

Gui Gui: "But he’s opening fire on me, ah ah!!"

Mosquito hesitated for a moment, then, as if realizing something, shouted with a flash of inspiration.

"Sacrifice yourself a bit, charge into their fleet!"

Gui Gui: "???"

Though surprised by the Army leader’s inhumanity, the little player named Gui Gui still instinctively turned the rudder, dodging the machine gun fire with barrel rolls while charging headlong into the enemy formation, and dived into the clouds at the last moment.

The "Eagle" which attacked friend and foe alike brought enormous trouble to the Falcon Kingdom’s flying squadron.

Since heaven was pitch black and the markings were impossible to see clearly, it was extremely difficult to distinguish this plane, whose design and paint were almost identical to theirs.

Especially when more than three "Eagles" were entangled with each other, it was impossible to tell which one was the traitor.

Unless they widened the gap to reorganize the formation...

Akant’s palms were sweating, his eyes nervously darting around, scanning the planes firing all around him as they darted up and down.

Now everyone looked like a potential traitor to him.

Thinking of the Steel Heart pushing north, Akant clenched his teeth, taking one last look at the Mosquito who had already slipped away from under his guns.

"You’re lucky this time..."

He squeezed these words through clenched teeth and reached to press the walkie-talkie hanging on his shoulder.

"Retreat!"

Throwing down two smoking planes once again, the Falcon Kingdom’s flying squadron began to head back to the front-line airfield, while the "out-of-control" Eagle did not choose to pursue but instead followed the transport plane sliding toward the ground.

Mosquito counted the planes on the other side, roughly fourteen were still visible, while only the last two remained on his own side.

The casualty ratio was painfully high.

Breathing heavily, Gui Gui asked through the comm channel.

"Boss... should we chase?"

Mosquito pressed the trigger on the control stick, but apart from the dry clicking indicating nothing but friction, no other sound was made; the bullets left in the magazine had all been spent in the previous dogfight.

The outcome would have to be determined next time.

"Consider yourselves lucky..."

If only he had stashed a handgun in the cockpit, those guys wouldn’t have slipped away.

Spitting in the direction of the retreating enemy aircraft, Mosquito wiped his mouth with an arm and shouted into the comms channel.

"Attention, all units! The enemy planes are fleeing with their tails between their legs! Victory is ours!"

"Head home!"

The initial velocity of this new model of machine gun was still at a disadvantage.

He’d have to make some adjustments when he got back.

"Argh!!" To avoid embarrassing their Army commander, Gui Gui, slumped in his seat, unfastened his pilot hat and let out a half-hearted cheer.

There was no helping it.

Everyone else was dead.

There were only the two of them left in the entire team; if she didn’t speak, nobody would...

...

The outcome on both ground and sky had been decided, yet the battle between "Soaring Clouds" and "Peidao" was far from over.

The engine’s afterburners flickered on and off in the sky, like intertwining and parallel shooting stars, and every glinting encounter gave birth to a deadly tracer streak.

The two jet fighters struggled for fleeting shooting windows, engaging in the most "primitive" close-quarters combat at a relative displacement of nearly two kilometers per second.

"Damn it... Dog plan is targeting me again!"

As he watched that persistent "Flame," Falling Feather bit his teeth and quickly glanced at the fuel gauge, which was rapidly approaching the warning line.

They had fought all the way from the north of Oasis No. 3 to the very south edge of the Golden Lizard Kingdom—Oasis No. 8. This position was not only beyond the range of communication but also beyond his combat radius.

However, the issue he was considering at the moment was not whether he could return safely.

As long as he could take out the only "Peidao" deployed in Luo Xia Province, the Alliance had a chance to completely secure air supremacy over Luo Xia Province!

Although the chance was slim, it was not without prospects of victory.

Slipping to the rear hemisphere of the enemy aircraft, watching the enemy aircraft hustle closer to the aiming scale of his sights, Falling Feather calmly pressed the fire button.

Machine gun fire spat out a tongue of flame.

Accompanied by a slight tremor, a string of glowing tracers pounced toward "Peidao."

It was almost to the point of reducing that plane to scrap metal, but it missed by just a little, as it dodged with a last-second side-step.

"Shit!"

He cursed softly, and Falling Feather’s eyebrows twitched violently; he turned the rudder sharply to adjust the nose of the aircraft, searching for the next shooting opportunity.

Yet it seemed that "Peidao" had already anticipated his next move, maneuvering behind him with superior agility and smoothly returning a burst of machine gun fire as a "courteous" reply to the previous round.

Almost instinctively making an evasive maneuver, as the tracer flew by closely, Falling Feather felt a cold sweat break out on his back.

As the opponent gradually adapted to his tactics, he finally began to feel the strain.

To be honest, he was never really skilled at such extreme distance dogfights.

In reality, the air forces of various countries had long evolved to the stage of "beyond-visual-range combat" in the confrontation between spear and shield, and dogfighting at supersonic speeds was "almost impossible" to happen—after all, machine gun bullets generally travel at speeds of only 2.8 to 5 Mach, and at a greater distance, the bullets might not even travel as fast as the aircraft.

Unless the most extreme situations occurred.

Such as when the scale of war expanded globally, and due to bombing, mobilization, and other reasons, the industrial chains of various countries were severely affected, high-tech weapons could not be supplied steadily, and quantity trumped quality in terms of guided weaponry...

By that point, not even a supersonic fighter mattered; infantry might as well have been fixed with bayonets.

Thus, cannon firing at aerial targets was only a minute part of all training subjects and only for the most extreme situations.

If it weren’t for "Wasteland OL," he might not have particularly practiced this skill.

Falling Feather could distinctly feel that the opponent’s tactical experience and flying techniques were nothing exceptional, yet their handling of the cannon had reached perfection.

And that wasn’t all.

The person was likely an Awakener just like himself, probably with reflex and visual nerves enhanced, and their "Level" might not be lower than his own!

To win this battle, he had to use every bullet cautiously, even every liter of fuel...

Calming the restless blood in his veins, Falling Feather rethought his combat strategy in his mind.

The scissors maneuver had already been learned by the opponent.

But there was one move that the bastard probably hadn’t seen yet...

Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the "Peidao" clinging to his left rear and placed his right hand on the throttle.

Just as he was about to surprise his opponent, a black dot suddenly appeared in the airspace directly ahead.

A Falcon?

Falling Feather’s face slightly changed.

Although propeller planes were slow as turtles compared to jet aircraft, the cannon mounted behind the propeller was not just for show.

Even if it didn’t hit him, a strafing run could block his path and disrupt his flight route. Any mistake in this evenly matched duel would be fatal to him.

Especially since his own maneuverability was already at a disadvantage...

At the same time, Yukar, who also caught sight of that little fly, had an immediate smile of surprise on his tense face.

"Ha ha ha! Nicely done!"

I’ll give them credit for having some sense, sending a plane to help him out. Although unnecessary for him, he was quite pleased with the thought.

"Give him a volley! Aim for the right wing! Now!"

He could almost see Victory calling out to him.

However—

An unforeseen event shocked both of them.

The "Eagle" didn’t aim its nose at "Soaring Clouds" but at the "Peidao" that was biting into its rear.

"Boom—!"

The long flame sprayed, a twin 20mm cannon with tracers weaved a large net in the sky, smashing head-on toward that "Peidao."

Everything happened in an instant.

So fast it caught everyone off guard.

"Damn it! Are you fucking blind?!"

Startled and angry, Yukar cursed, barely dodging the oncoming bullets, and completely lost his shooting window, which he had almost seized.

Nearly seven times the speed of sound.

Being hit by that strafing run was enough to send him off!

Even now, he fantasized that the Falcon had mistaken its target due to the darkness and decided to give the blind gunner a couple of slaps when he returned to the base.

Unfortunately, the Falcon had not chosen the wrong target and had traveled all this way specifically to get rid of him.

That volley did not even follow him; it merely bit into his tail.

"Fuck! Ceasefire! I’m friendly!"

Yukar roared in the onboard radio, trying to wake the person opposite him.

However, what he didn’t know was that the cockpit of that Falcon was already crawling with slime fungus, and the pilot, strapped to the seat, had become a puppet at its disposal.

Meanwhile, the modern-looking jet, having done a 180-degree roll in a vertical climb, was now completing it.

Yukar’s pupils abruptly shrank.

For a moment, as his gaze met that cockpit, his heart seemed to stop beating.

"...Shit."

The words had barely reached his lips when a hot metal fragment ripped open his cockpit.

Looking at the scrapped heap in the sight, Falling Feather moved his finger off the trigger and slowly exhaled the air that had been trapped in his chest.

Removing the breathing apparatus from his mouth, he slumped into the seat behind him.

In a combat of equals, there was no room for even one mistake.

Let alone two.

With black smoke trailing, the "Peidao" burst into brilliant flames in the night sky behind him, reminiscent of a lighter.

"The Yin-McManus Turn... I only taught it once, hoping you saw it clearly."

But even if you saw it clearly, there probably won’t be a chance to learn it in this lifetime.

Having soloed such a tough boss, Falling Feather’s lips unwittingly curved into a smile. Although he had no idea why the Falcon had helped him, a win was a win.

Even if the Falcon came to its senses and finished him off, it didn’t matter; he could even generously attribute the "merit" to that unnamed friend.

The Army only had one Peidao.

But the Alliance could produce another Soaring Clouds next month.

The engine’s flame faltered, and the aircraft began a powerless glide forward.

Falling Feather glanced at the fuel gauge indicator.

The needle stubbornly stuck below the 0 mark on the dial—the last abrupt turn had drained the remaining fuel, leaving not a drop behind in the now-empty tank.

He was considering just going down with the plane, early death, early respawn.

But recalling the last bug he encountered with the respawn cooldown, he shuddered instinctively, his right hand still reaching for the ejection handle beside his seat.

With a loud bang, the metal bars on both sides of the seat broke, and the seat, propelled by gunpowder, shot out from the open canopy.

Last time Mosquito had assured him they’d fitted Soaring Clouds with an ejection seat, he thought it was a joke.

He hadn’t expected it to actually exist...

At the same time, the nearby Falcon had also run out of fuel, slowly losing power, and the propeller began to turn in reverse.

The almost-rotten pilot slumped his head, sitting among the slime fungus infested cockpit, his hands plastered to the control stick by fungal growth.

His decay seemed to have accelerated.

The weak spark of life flickered like a candle in the wind.

However, at this moment, he felt a sense of unprecedented satisfaction from deep within his soul—as if he had been sublimed.

His brief life had not been in vain.

He had successfully completed Mother’s task.

From the headset, dangling on his neck, came one last murmur of "Yi-Wu," a whisper only he could understand.

’You did well.’

’Rest now.’

’My child.’

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