Into the Storm

Prologue

The sharp whine of a jet engine split the air as I stepped onto the tarmac of Fort Gracemaria Air Base. The massive silhouette of an Osean F-22 Raptor roared overhead, vanishing into the pale blue sky, leaving behind a trail of vapor and the powerful rumble of its afterburners. It was a sound I'd grown familiar with over the last few months. But today… today felt different.

It was in the air—the tension, the unease, like static before a storm.

The briefing this morning had been vague. Some emergency situation brewing on the border of Emmeria, the details redacted. That wasn't uncommon. Still, there was something about the commander's tone that had me on edge.

I flexed my fingers, trying to shake the stiffness out of them, but my hand froze mid-motion as a ding sounded in my head. At first, I thought it was just the aftereffects of a long night, but then, a window appeared in my vision, floating there like something out of a video game.

Welcome, Pilot!

You have been chosen.

System initializing…

Loading character data…

Pilot ID: Callum "Foxhound" Wells

Rank: First Lieutenant

Nationality: Emmerian Air Force

Current Aircraft: F-16C Fighting Falcon

My heart skipped a beat. The world around me blurred for a moment as I tried to blink the screen away, but it stayed there, superimposed over my vision like some augmented reality HUD. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic in my chest. This… this couldn't be real, right?

Another ding echoed in my skull, and the screen shifted again.

New Quest: Complete Your Mission

Mission Details:

• Report to Command for mission briefing

• Successfully complete the assigned sortie

Rewards:

• XP: 500

• Bonus: ??? (Optional)

Failure Penalty:

• Death

I swallowed hard. Death? This wasn't some arcade game. This was real life. I was a fighter pilot, and the stakes were always high, but now… this system was making it clear. Too clear.

Before I could process it any further, a familiar voice called out from behind me.

"Wells! You ready for this?" It was my wingman, Captain Jensen "Wolf" Reinhardt, his voice casual despite the unease in the air. He gave me a grin, his helmet tucked under one arm as he strode up to my side.

I forced a smile, shaking my head as I turned to him. "Yeah, I'm good. Just… feeling the pressure, you know?"

He laughed. "Pressure's just part of the job. Come on, let's get this over with."

As we made our way to the briefing room, the floating windows kept popping up, distracting me at every turn. New stats appeared in the corner of my vision.

Status:

Pilot ID: Callum "Foxhound" Wells

Rank: First Lieutenant

Aircraft: F-16C Fighting Falcon

Current Level: 1

XP: 0 / 1000

HP: 100 / 100

HP? XP? This had to be some kind of hallucination. Stress, maybe. I had heard of pilots cracking under the pressure, but this was something else entirely.

The briefing itself was straightforward: a recon mission on the border of Estovakia, high tensions after a recent skirmish near the Emmerian coast. We were to provide aerial support for the recon team and engage only if necessary.

As we geared up, my mind raced. The system—whatever it was—seemed to know everything about me. Stats, missions, even my equipment. And it wasn't going away.

New Skill Unlocked: Precision Strike

A chill ran down my spine as another window appeared. I focused on it, and the description expanded.

Precision Strike: Allows the pilot to lock onto a target with enhanced accuracy. Guarantees a critical hit when using air-to-air missiles. Cooldown: 5 minutes.

I stared at the text, dumbfounded. This… could be useful. But how did I even activate it? Did I just think about it, or was there some kind of command?

"Hey, Foxhound, you good?" Wolf's voice snapped me back to reality. I realized I had been standing there, motionless, helmet in hand, staring into space.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I lied, forcing myself to focus. I couldn't afford to lose it now, not before a mission.

The roar of my F-16's engine filled my ears as I pulled back on the throttle, ascending into the clear skies over Emmeria. Wolf was on my wing, flying in perfect formation as we streaked toward the mission area. The system's HUD displayed new information now—my speed, altitude, fuel levels—all overlaying the standard instruments in my cockpit.

"Foxhound, this is Command," came the voice over the radio. "Recon team is approaching the target area. Be advised, Estovakian aircraft spotted on radar. Maintain formation and engage only if provoked."

"Roger that, Command," I replied, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut. The system remained quiet for now, but I knew better than to think it would stay that way.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the occasional radio check. Then, just as we neared the border, the radar lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Multiple bogeys, two o'clock!" Wolf's voice was sharp, all trace of his usual calm gone.

I glanced at my radar, heart hammering in my chest as I counted at least six enemy contacts. Estovakian Su-27s, closing fast.

New Quest: Engage the Enemy

Mission Details:

• Destroy at least two enemy aircraft

• Ensure Wolf's survival

• Bonus: Achieve Ace status (5 kills)

Rewards:

• XP: 1000

• Bonus: ??? (Optional)

Failure Penalty:

• Death

I clenched the stick, my thumb hovering over the missile trigger. This was it. No more training runs. No more simulations. Life or death, and the system was putting me right in the thick of it.

"Foxhound, break left! Engage the leader, I've got your back!" Wolf barked, already peeling away to intercept the nearest bandit.

I gritted my teeth, banking hard to the left as I selected my first target. The Su-27 loomed large in my sights, the system's HUD flashing red as I locked onto it.

Skill Activated: Precision Strike

Without thinking, I squeezed the trigger, unleashing two Sidewinders. The missiles streaked forward, their trails curling through the air before slamming into the enemy fighter with pinpoint precision. The explosion lit up the sky, debris scattering in the wind as I pulled up hard to avoid the wreckage.

"One down," I muttered, but there was no time to celebrate. Another bogey was already on my six, its radar lock screaming in my ears.

But I wasn't the same pilot I had been this morning. The system had changed everything.

And I was just getting started.