Reincarnated with the Country System

1500 hours

Bernard Empire jets cut through the haze like knives of light.

Lieutenant Kai Mercer pushed his F-35C Lightning II into a hard climb. Sunlight blazed across the canopy, HUD symbols glowing sharp green against the bright sky. Target markers flickered—dozens of Indiana sky-fortresses drifting through the high clouds ahead.

His comms crackled—sksshhk.

Raven-One: "All elements, hold tight. We push the center. Command wants these forts broken."

Kai / Raven-Three: "Copy. On your wing."

Raven-Two: "Sensors clean for now. Watch the rune cannons—they swing faster than before."

Kai eased the throttle forward. The Lightning surged to Mach 1.6 with a BARRROOOM, the roar of the engine a living beast behind him. Vapor trails ripped off the wingtips as he dropped into attack speed. Below, the Atlantic glittered in full daylight, whitecaps flashing as Bernard destroyers fired upward. Missiles streaked toward the clouds in bright contrails, vanishing with a fading sssshhhhh.

"Target lock," Kai said.

Raven-One: "Take the shot."

He thumbed the release. The missile leapt away with a violent CRACK-WHOOSH, exhaust flame glaring like a second sun. It struck the skyship's midsection in under three seconds—KRRRRAAABOOM! Orange fire blossomed against the blue. Chunks of enchanted timber spiraled downward, sizzling as they fell.

The comm net filled with short cheers—ksshhkt-pop.

Raven-Two: "Splash one fortress. Nice hit."

Indiana guns answered. Thick beams of lightning slashed across the afternoon sky with an electric ZZZZRAAAT, hunting the jets. Kai rolled left, G-forces tugging at his vision. A rune-lance cut past his right wing, leaving a whooom-snap of ozone.

Raven-One: "Break! Break! Incoming volley, high quadrant."

Kai: "I see it—climbing."

He pulled hard, afterburners screaming. The Lightning climbed like a predator, outpacing the slow-tracking magic weapons. Inside the cockpit, the constant deep roar of turbines and wind hammered the fuselage.

A second fortress loomed ahead, its deck crowded with soldiers. Ballista crews scrambled, aiming giant bolts that burned blue, the air popping pah-pah-pah as they charged. Kai leveled out, the bright world rushing past in a blur.

"Guns, guns, guns," he called.

The 25 mm cannon opened up—BRRRT-BRRRT-BRRRT. Shells ripped across the enemy deck. Armor shattered with metallic KLANG-KLANG. Men screamed, some diving for cover, others cut apart instantly. Blood and splinters whipped into the wind with a wet shhhrrk. Kai banked away before return fire could find him.

Raven-Two: "Good effect. Deck's a mess. They're panicking."

Raven-One: "Stay sharp. More targets inbound."

Below, a Bernard cruiser launched a vertical missile. Kai caught the flare—FWOOSH—on his sensors. The weapon climbed fast, then arced and plunged into another skyship's belly. KA-THOOM! The explosion ripped the fortress open. Half the hull folded inward. People and equipment spilled out like dark rain, faint screams snatched by the wind and lost to the glittering sea.

Kai steadied his breathing. Even at combat speed the sight pulled at him—bodies twisting in sunlight, the long fall ending in a distant splash of white.

Raven-Four: "Confirm kill on that fortress. Secondary fires spreading."

The radio filled with more voices—kssk-kssk-chk—as reinforcements arrived.

Tower Control: "Raven flight, Eagle group on station. Eight more F-35s inbound from Yorktown for support. Cycle back to carrier when low on fuel. Tankers holding pattern Bravo."

Raven-One: "Copy all. Ravens, two more passes, then we rotate."

Kai felt the rumble of his nearly spent ordnance. He still had one missile and the cannon—enough for another run.

He dropped low, skimming bright clouds, sensors searching. Another Indiana fortress slid into view—a leviathan of black stone and brass, its forward cannon already glowing with a deep mmmm-WHOMP. He armed his last missile and dove.

"Fox-Three," he said calmly.

The missile streaked ahead, tail flame a straight white line—SSSSHHH-KABOOM! The enemy ship tried to roll away, levitation runes flaring brighter, but it was too slow. Impact lit the afternoon sky in a sphere of fire. Shards of hull and burning sail spun outward with a hiss of embers.

Raven-Two: "Direct hit! She's breaking apart."

Then a sudden shriek in his headset.

BEEP—BEEP—BEEP.

Raven-One: "Magic lance on your six, Three! Max speed, climb now!"

Kai yanked the stick back. But he was a little late. A flash of blue light sliced the air where he had been an instant before. The shockwave slammed the Lightning sideways. Warnings screamed—HYDRAULIC FAIL / FUEL LOW—across the console.

"Raven-Three hit," Kai gritted. "Systems red—losing pressure."

The jet shuddered, controls heavy. He leveled just enough to see another fortress breaking apart below, struck from beneath by a Bernard missile. Bodies and burning timbers spiraled down, splashing into a sea already littered with the dead.

Then his right wing caught a second pulse of lightning.

CRACK-BOOM.

The cockpit jolted so hard his helmet slammed the seat. Lights across the dash went black. The F-35C rolled hard right, smoke pouring from the fuselage.

Raven-Two: "Three, you're on fire! Punch out, now!"

Raven-One: "Eject, Three! Do it!"

Kai pulled the handle.

WHUMP-KRAK.

The canopy blasted away, a rush of freezing air tearing at him. The seat rockets fired, hurling him clear of the dying jet. For a heartbeat he spun weightless through the blazing sky.

Below, his Lightning II spiraled down in a trail of smoke and flame, vanishing into the black ocean with a hollow KRAA-SPLASH.

The parachute opened with a violent snap. Wind dragged at him as he descended through layers of smoke. The stench hit first—burned fuel, blood, salt. Beneath the drifting clouds, the sea was chaos: Bernard destroyers firing upward, Indiana skyships burning as they fell, twisted wrecks from the morning's naval slaughter still rolling in the swell. The corpses of thunderbirds bobbed beside shattered masts and steel fragments from the 28th Fleet.

He hit the water hard—WHAM. The shock punched the breath from his chest. Salt flooded his mouth. He kicked free of the chute and inflated his survival raft as another burning skyship screamed past, crashing into the ocean half a kilometer away. The impact sent a wall of water and debris toward him; shards of glowing wood hissed as they hit the surface.

Raven-Two: "Three is down. I have a visual on chute flare. Marking coordinates."

Carrier Yorktown / SAR Control: "Copy. Rescue team inbound. Hold position."

Kai floated amid a graveyard. Pieces of his own jet drifted nearby—shattered stabilizers, a wingtip, still smoking. Around him the remains of Indiana's fleet spread to the horizon: upside-down hulls, floating spell-towers cracked like eggs, bodies of men and beasts turning slowly in the current.

Above, the war thundered on. Bernard jets streaked through the haze, afterburners glowing white. Missiles arced up from the carrier group, each launch a deep-throated FOOM that rolled across the sea. Indiana sky-fortresses tried to climb, their cannons flashing blue, but every minute another fell, trailing smoke as it plunged into the water with a distant BOOOOOM.

The chop of rotor blades grew louder—THUP-THUP-THUP.

A Bernard SAR helicopter skimmed low through the smoke, side door open.

The winch cable splashed beside him. He clipped in and felt the sudden lift, seawater streaming from his flight suit as the helicopter hauled him up. From this height the scale of destruction struck hard: miles of burning wreckage, ships half-submerged, black oil slicks shining under the afternoon sun.

The crew pulled him inside. A corpsman strapped him in, checking vitals as the chopper banked toward the carrier line. Through the open door Kai saw more survivors—other Bernard pilots bobbing in the debris field—while fast boats darted between floating timbers and drifting bodies to haul them out.