This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 470.2: Eagle In The Sky

With a mighty blast, the Eagle jet chasing the Dragonfly was instantly shredded. Its propeller, cockpit, and fuel tank were blown apart, turning into a burning fireball in the air within seconds.

There wasn’t even a chance to eject.

Akant stared at the ball of flame in shock, then at the Scorpiontail-2 that had suddenly fired on its ally.

He couldn’t understand what on earth had just happened.

Even the plane he had been chasing was stunned. The pilot in the cockpit could be seen with his jaws agape at the little fly that had suddenly turned its guns on their ally.

What shocked him wasn’t the betrayal.

It was that fluid, seamless 180 degree roll.

“Holy shit! An Immelmann turn?!”

The next second, both Eagles split. One flew north while the other charged straight into the chaotic battlefield.

Just as the Mosquito was gasping in shock, his ears crackled with a teammate’s shout.

Little Ghost yelled, “Boss, should we shoot it down?”

Mosquito hurriedly replied, “Not yet! The enemy of our enemy is our friend!”

Little Ghost screamed in fright, “But it’s firing at me!”

Mosquito froze, then suddenly realized something and shouted on instinct. “Sacrifice yourself, charge straight into their formation!”

Little Ghost screamed in fright.

Though bewildered at her commander’s heartlessness, Little Ghost still instinctively kicked the rudder, barrel-rolling to dodge the hail of cannon fire while plunging deep into the enemy formation, diving into the clouds at the last second.

The Eagle firing indiscriminately at friend and foe alike caused immense trouble for the Falcon Kingdom’s formation.

With the sky pitch-black, and no numbers visible, the plane, which was identical in shape and paint scheme to theirs, was impossible to distinguish.

Especially when three or more Eagles flew together... It was impossible to tell which one was the traitor. Unless they pulled back and regrouped...

Sweat dampened Akant’s palms, his eyes darting nervously, scanning the aircraft firing and weaving all around him.

Now, everyone looked like a traitor to him.

Thinking of the Heart of Steel advancing north, Akant clenched his teeth, gave one last glance at the damn plane slipping away from him, and spat out between clenched teeth, “Consider yourself lucky...”

He reached for the intercom clipped to his shoulder and gave his final order. “Retreat!”

Leaving behind two smoking aircraft, the Falcon Kingdom’s formation began heading back to their airfield. As for that out-of-control Eagle fighter, it didn’t chase them, but instead went after the transport plane gliding toward the ground.

Counting the enemy aircrafts, Mosquito noted about 14 still visible. On his side, only two remained.

The casualty ratio was heartbreaking.

Panting, Little Ghost asked over their communication network, “Boss... Should we chase them down?”

Mosquito squeezed the trigger on his stick. Only a dry click answered him. His bullets had been spent in the earlier dogfight.

It seemed like the fight would have to wait till next time.

“Consider yourselves lucky...”

If only he had stashed a pistol in the cockpit, those bastards wouldn’t have gotten away. He would have flew over and shot them in their cockpits even if it was the last thing he did.

Spitting in the direction of the retreating enemy, Mosquito wiped his mouth with his sleeves and yelled, “Attention all units! The enemy’s running with their tails between their legs! Victory is ours!”

“Time to go home!”

Actually, he had been reflecting on the guns he mounted on the new series of Mosquito planes he made. It seemed a little too weak. Once they returned, he would start making adjustments.

“Woi!” Not wanting her commander to feel awkward, Little Ghost who was slumped in her seat, unclipped her flight cap and weakly cheered in response.

What else could she do? Everyone else was dead.

Only the two of them remained. If she didn’t speak up, nobody would...

...

The battles in the air and on the ground had been decided. But the duel between the Lofty Cloud and the Cutlass was far from over.

Engine flames flickered bright and dim in the sky, like entwined meteors, each flash drawing trails of deadly tracers.

The two jets weaved and slashed, seizing fleeting firing windows as they were locked in the most primitive form of combat at nearly 2 km/s.

“Goddamn... The doggy developers are targeting me again!” Grinding his teeth, Falling Feather glanced at the fuel gauge needle dropping below the warning mark, then back at the relentless bastard chasing him.

They had fought all the way from Oasis No.3 in the north down to the southern edge of the Golden Lizard Kingdom in Oasis No.8. They were not only outside the range of communication, but even beyond his supposed combat radius.

Now, his concern wasn’t whether he could make it back.

As long as he destroyed the Army’s only Cutlass fighter stationed in the Sunset Province, the New Alliance could seize complete air supremacy!

The chance was slim, but not impossible.

Cutting across to the enemy’s rear, watching the target cross toward his sight marks, Falling Feather calmly pressed the trigger.

Fire emerged from his guns once again. Along with a light shudder, tracers streaked toward the Cutlass.

They almost shredded the enemy into scrap, but missed by just a hair as it rolled to the side.

“Damn!” Cursing under his breath, Falling Feather’s brow twitched. He wrenched the rudder, twisting to hunt for another shot.

Too bad for him, the Cutlass already seemed to anticipate his actions as it slid nimbly into his rear, countering smoothly with a volley of its own.

He instinctively pulled evasive maneuvers, tracers whipping past his plane as cold sweat ran down his back.

As the opponent adapted to his tactics, Falling Feather finally began to feel the strain.

To be honest, close-range dogfighting had never been his specialty.

Modern air forces had long evolved to beyond-visual-range combat. Dogfights at supersonic speeds were practically impossible as bullets often couldn’t even keep up with the jets.

Only in the most extreme scenarios, like when wars escalated and were fought by countless other counties, when their industrial chains were crippled by bombings and mobilization, with high-tech weapons in short supply, and crude mass-firepower being the fallback...

At that stage, even their infantry might end up fighting with bayonets.

That was why dogfighting was such a minor part of his curriculum.

If not for Wasteland Online, he might never have gotten the chance to do it.

Falling Feather could clearly feel his opponent wasn’t particularly outstanding in tactics or flying skill, but their ability to fight in close range was at a master’s level.

And more than that, that pilot was likely an awakener too, with enhancements in reflexes and vision. He probably wasn’t weaker than himself.

To win the fight, he would have to conserve every bullet and even every drop of fuel.

Steadying his breath, Falling Feather revised his plan.

His scissors maneuver had already been copied, but there was one trick the bastard hadn’t seen yet...

Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the Cutlass tight on his rear-left, then put his hand on the throttle.

Just as he prepared a surprise move, a black speck appeared up ahead.

An Eagle?

Falling Feather’s expression hardened.

The Eagle might be a turtle compared to both their planes, but their guns were no jokes.

Even if it couldn’t hit, it could spray to block his path, ruining his maneuvers. And in their evenly matched duel, one mistake meant death.

He was already at a disadvantage in agility...

Meanwhile, Yker also spotted the little fly that had come. Relief and glee lit up his tense face. “Hahaha! Well done!”

At least his underlings had the sense to send help. It was unnecessary, but the gesture pleased him.

“Light them up! Aim for the right wing! Fire!”

He could already see victory smiling at him.

But... The unexpected happened.

The Eagle didn’t aim at the Lofty Cloud.

It aimed at the Cutlass that had snapped onto the enemy’s tail.

Tatatatatatata...

Flame spewed as its twin 20mm guns weaved a new of tracers that flew straight into the Cutlass.

It all happened in an instant.

It happened so quickly no one could react.

“Fuck! Are you blind?!” Yker swore furiously as he barely dodged the hail of bullets, losing the firing window he had secured.

At their speed, the volley would’ve been the end of him.

He clung to the hope the Eagle had mistaken its target in the dark, and swore he would slap the fool silly back at base.

Too bad he was wrong.

That Eagle hadn’t mistaken anything. It had come all this way to kill him.

Once again, the Eagle continued to bite at his rear.

“Stop! Goddamn it, I’m friendly!” Yker roared over his communication channel, trying to shout sense into them.

But he didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that the cockpit was crawling with Slime Mold. The pilot strapped to the seat was already a puppet.

Nearby, the sleek Lofty Cloud had already finished a vertical climb with a perfect 180 degree roll.

Yker’s pupils contracted sharply. Locking eyes with that person in the other cockpit, his heart seemed to stop.

“... Fuck.” The curse barely left his lips before molten shrapnel ripped his cockpit open.

Watching the ruined wreck in his sights, Falling Feather raised his finger from the trigger, exhaling at last.

He tore off his mask, slumping against the seat.

In such evenly matched combat, even one mistake was fatal.

Two mistakes was practically impossible.

Trailing black smoke, the Cutlass dropped like a torch, blossoming into a beautiful burning flower in the night sky behind him.

...

“An Immelmann turn... I’ll teach if to you once. I hope you were watching closely.”

Too bad the other side would never be able to use it even though he had seen it.

Having soloed such a tough boss, Falling Feather couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t know why the Eagle had helped him, but a win was a win.

Even if the Eagle came back to finish him off, he’d gladly credit the kill to his nameless ally.

The Army had only one Cutlass, but the New Alliance could build another Lofty Cloud in a month.

The next second, his engine flames sputtered. The plane began gliding without power.

Falling Feather glanced at the fuel gauge.

The needle was buried below zero. His final maneuver had drained every last drop of fuel.

For a moment, he thought of just going down with the plane. It was better to die fast and reset his death timer. However, he remembered the bug that had locked his respawn timer. A shiver ran down his spine, and his hand reached for the ejection handle.

With a sharp blast, the seat rails blew, blasting him skyward.

Previously, Mosquito had sworn he had added ejection seats to the Lofty Cloud. He thought it was a joke. Turns out, it wasn’t.

Meanwhile, the Eagle also ran out of fuel, its propeller spinning backward as it lost power.

The rotting pilot slumped, Slime Mold binding his hands to the control stick.

His decay worsened and his life flickered like a dying candle in the wind.

Yet he felt an overwhelming satisfaction deep in his soul, it was as though he finally reached peace.

His short life had not been wasted.

He had fulfilled his the mission of the Mother Body.

From the headset crooked on his neck came a final whisper, a murmur only he could understand.

“You did well.”

“Rest now...”

“... My child.”