The departing pilot received new orders: destroy the target utilizing any means necessary!
The remaining three fighter jets executed a circuitous maneuver, once again gradually tailing the airliner. However, they all maintained positions above the aircraft, evading 13's targeting angle. As Wildcat 4 reacquired lock, the pilot's eyeballs nearly protruded from their sockets; alongside the fuselage, a dark figure strode with measured steps towards the aircraft's body.
Afforded no time for astonishment, Pilot 4 swiftly pressed the launch switch. Yet, before the missile could detach, a bullet accurately pierced both the warhead and the wing. The pilot watched his aircraft explode; the immense shockwave transformed the robust fighter into scattered fragments. His comrades evaded promptly. The brief crisis was averted. "Two remain," 13 mentally noted.
'Night' was indeed a rare masterpiece by Nie Yun. Aside from its excessive weight, it was essentially all-terrain combat equipment. The ability to traverse the fuselage with ease was one of its functions—gravity adhesion, capable of generating customized sole gravity, enabling ambulation on nearly any surface.
Standing atop the fuselage, fierce winds buffeted 13's body, yet he felt nothing. He visually tracked the re-approaching fighter jets.
13 raised the COOL-FIRE5, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The shot that struck Pilot 4 contained an element of fortune; turbulence rendered the bullet's trajectory extremely unstable. A mere lateral wind pressure could deflect the bullet by several centimeters. Thus far, 13 had never pulled a trigger without certainty. In past engagements, every shot was the product of calculation. Now, he had only luck to rely upon, yet the price of failure was over one hundred lives.
"Monster..." Pilot 3's pupils glazed over, as if confronting a dark nightmare. Likely, no pilot on Earth had encountered such a counterattack.
"Pilot 3! What's wrong?" He could no longer hear his comrade's calls. His eyes reflected only extreme terror. Human instinct compelled Pilot 3 to launch all missiles before achieving lock.
Four erratically aimed missiles whistled past the fuselage, hurtling forward. Everyone held their breath.
Yet, 13 revealed a rare smile: "This simplifies matters." Swiftly raising his weapon, he continuously pulled the trigger, bullets pouring forth.
This was undoubtedly Pilot 3's most agonizing final experience. He heard the bullets puncturing the fuselage, one after another. One pierced the cabin floor and also his stomach, causing him to vomit copious amounts of blood. The subsequent shot terminated his suffering, accurately detonating his head—instantaneous death.
Wildcat 3... plummeted.
"It actually took five rounds. Seems the wind was quite strong just now," 13 analyzed aloud.
"Ah—!" Pilot 2 went berserk. Witnessing his comrades perish one by one, the fury in his heart completely overwhelmed his fear.
Only one thought remained—kill him!
Whistling past above the airliner, the powerful wind pressure nearly dislodged 13 from the surface. Just as he turned to aim, the fighter executed an extreme upward climb. Even 13 couldn't help but mentally applaud! It had to be acknowledged; this was an exceptional pilot.
Enduring hypoxia and vertigo, he swiftly descended, diving towards the airliner, launching all missiles without aiming. At this moment, the airliner target loomed as large as a wall. Simultaneously aiming upwards and firing, 13 switched to the airliner's cockpit channel. Wildcat 2 spiraled, evading 13's aim. He fired two random shots; the bullets predictably deviated from their course.
"Pilot! Veer sideways if you don't wish to die!" The co-pilot in the cockpit, almost instinctively obeying the command from the communicator, executed an extreme bank to the right. The abrupt maneuver forced 13 to kneel on the fuselage; the gravity beneath his feet loosened, nearly sending him flying off.
"Yah!" His swinging left fist punched through the fuselage, firmly anchoring his descending body.
Perhaps by divine providence, the missiles once again miraculously flew past the fuselage, crashing directly into the sea surface, generating immense waves.
The fighter jet also plummeted rapidly towards the sea, pulling up at the absolute limit. Wildcat 2 seemed to skim across the sea surface, the wind parting the water, trailing a white wake, before ascending back into the sky.
The airliner finally stabilized once more. 13 stood again, feeling only a sense of tenacious difficulty.
Pulling back the bolt, he extracted a black bullet from the ammunition supply pack on his back and inserted it. Taking aim, Wildcat 2's cannon muzzle also prepared.
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he unexpectedly vomited a mouthful of blood, turning the entire canopy crimson. Glancing down, a fist-sized bullet hole had been punched through his chest.
Perhaps this too was a form of release. The pilot harbored no regrets; he had exerted his utmost effort, even performing the most demanding flight maneuvers.
Suddenly, his entire body felt lightened, for the battle was concluded.
His friends were likely already awaiting him in another world. Yet, he still wished to gaze upon his beloved sky one last time. Trembling, he raised his hand, wiping the blood from the canopy. The familiar blue emerged, yet it was not the blue of the sky, but the color of the sea.
Wildcat 2 plunged into the sea.
"The sole remaining Titan Prime metal bullet is dedicated to you," 13 ejected the black casing, "the most exceptional pilot."
This was the last bullet crafted by Nie Yun from the remaining Titan material—heavier and faster than standard rounds. Before the wind could exert its influence, the bullet had already pierced the entire aircraft.
"Alright, departure is possible." 13 switched back to the cockpit channel. "Kid, the crisis has been averted. Immediately decrease altitude and decelerate. I am evacuating."
"I genuinely don't know whether to thank you or resent you. Although you saved our lives, you killed our soldiers," the co-pilot stated, perplexed. Just a brief flight, yet this novice had matured rapidly.
"Simply forgetting me will suffice." His sigh was discernible in his voice. "Oh, right, please inform the flight attendant named Sun Hui that upon landing, she can contact the Chinese authorities to arrange her return. Perhaps she was correct; I am not human. Yet, I still yearn for a life like humans, but destiny dictates otherwise. That is why I must strive to change certain things, including my own fate."
With that, he deactivated gravity. His body, as if sprouting wings, flew off the fuselage. In the azure sky, he activated the suspension system, the Titan metal spike anchoring to the aircraft's tail. Slowly descending, the sea surface drew nearer.
Within the cockpit, a girl wept uncontrollably. During 13's final transmission, Sun Hui had stood beside him the entire time. Tears flowed unrestrainedly; she slumped to the floor, incessantly wiping away the ever-welling tears, repeatedly murmuring "Sorry"!
Towards this person who had saved her twice, Sun Hui had offered only complaints and rebukes. Yet, ultimately, it was this very person who had saved her and everyone else again. Who was the truly selfish ghost? Sun Hui now understood. When she accused 13 of wrongdoing, she had never attempted to comprehend his helplessness and sorrow. Yet, even so, he offered no rebuttal, silently accepting everything.
She truly yearned to see him one more time, to personally utter "Sorry".
At this moment, 13 remained oblivious to the events within the cockpit. Retrieving the skateboard from his back, he attached it to the soles of his feet. Upon contacting the water's surface, it splashed water over a meter high.
Like surfing, the airliner towed 13 across the water's surface. Severing the rope, his speed markedly decreased; the aircraft ascended once more. The skateboard slowed progressively until 13 submerged into the sea. The hijacking operation formally concluded.
"Report! All four Wildcat fighters have lost signal! The large passenger aircraft is heading towards Seoul International Airport!"
"Boom!" A loud crash interrupted the soldier's report. Hideaki, executing a hand-chop, cleaved the thick mahogany desk in two. Miyamoto gestured for the stunned soldier to withdraw, swiftly closing the door. Miyamoto knew that Hideaki currently required calm.
Before departing for Korea, Ryuichi had specifically summoned him, entrusting this most cherished child to his care.
Miyamoto would never forget the brilliance flashing in Ryuichi's eyes then, as if discussing Japan's future.
"Miyamoto, for this great war, I entrust Hideaki to you. You must respect him as you respect me. Although he is still immature, lacks restraint, and is often overconfident, it must be acknowledged he is an exceptionally talented child. Every decision he makes is considerably perfect; perhaps this is the foundation of his confidence. I am aware he resents me, yet he remains my child, a descendant of Great Japan. I am aging; one day I will withdraw from Japan's stage. He will be the most suitable successor. I believe that after maturing, he can lead Japan to stand tall in the East. You must help me care for and protect him, witness his growth."
Recalling Ryuichi's words, liquid involuntarily flowed from Miyamoto's eyes. Suppressing the urge to weep, Miyamoto awaited Hideaki's decision.
After a moment passed, following deep breaths, Hideaki regained his composure and walked towards the door.
"Has Your Excellency reached a decision?" Miyamoto inquired.
"Accompany me to the airport now to receive the flight," Hideaki stated, turning back. "We must go control 'Fear'."
Although uncertain of the meaning behind Hideaki's words, Miyamoto nonetheless followed his steps closely.
Just as he had closely followed Ryuichi's steps.