I Was Summoned as the Weakest Hero, But I Awakened a Military System

Two hundred nautical miles to the north, across the calm, moonlit expanse of the open sea, Carrier Strike Group cut through the dark swells.

Aboard the flagship USS Gerald R. Ford, the blue glow of the Combat Direction Center illuminated the rows of glowing radar consoles and tactical plots.

Rear Admiral Donovan stood with his arms folded across his chest, staring at the main holographic table. The green telemetry marker representing the USS Montana was flashing alongside the status report sent by Commander Gallagher: Biological target neutralized. Two hostile wooden corvettes localized. Lead vessel listing, heavily damaged.

”Direct hit from Gallagher’s Mk 48,” Commander Price reported from the tactical action console. ”The biological contact’s acoustic signature has completely flatlined. Target is destroyed.”

”And the Solarian ships?” Donovan asked.

”The lead vessel took severe hull damage, but she’s still floating. The second corvette is closing distance to render assistance,” Price replied, tapping his headset. ”Orders from Eagle Actual just came through, Admiral. Commander John wants a visible presence over the targets. Confirm their situation and display force. Let them know they aren’t alone out here.”

Donovan gave a curt nod. ”Launch the ready alert on catapult two. Order Lieutenant Commander Miller to execute a low-altitude intercept pass over those coordinates. Visual deterrence only. No weapons release unless fired upon.”

”Aye, sir.”

High above on the massive flight deck, the ocean wind whipped violently across the steel runway. Yellow-shirt flight deck handlers used glowing wands to guide a sleek, angular aircraft into position over the number two electromagnetic catapult.

It was an F-35C Lightning II, painted in non-reflective stealth gray. Its turbofan engine whined with increasing intensity, kicking up a blast of heat against the raised jet blast deflector.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot ran through his final checks, the green glow of his helmet-mounted display showing the exact coordinates sent from the Global Hawk orbiting high above.

The flight deck officer gave the signal. The catapult engaged.

SHK-BOOM.

With an explosive surge of electromagnetic acceleration, the stealth fighter launched off the bow into the black night, its Pratt & Whitney afterburner glowing with a sharp ring of blue fire as it climbed into the starry sky.

Ten minutes later.

Back on the deck of the shattered imperial corvette, the surviving crew members were frantically trying to keep the vessel from sinking. Sailors dumped broken crates, snapped timbers, and shattered ballistas over the side to lighten the load. The second corvette had finally managed to close the gap, throwing heavy mooring lines across the gap to tether the two ships together.

Captain Daniel sat propped against the shattered wheelhouse, clutching a cloth to his bloody head while an apprentice cleric frantically cast minor healing spells over his fractured ribs.

Miyuki collapsed against a barrel, her wooden staff resting beside her. The emerald gem at the tip had lost nearly all of its glow. Her hands were still shaking from pure mana exhaustion.

”We... we actually survived,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the dark water. The massive pool of glowing blue blood was slowly washing away into the currents. ”That explosion under the water... what could have done that?”

Ayanokoji stood near the snapped railing at the bow. His silver spear was held loosely at his side, his dark clothes soaked in saltwater and sea monster gore.

His face was completely devoid of relief. His eyes scanned the empty sky and the rolling black waves, analyzing the strange event.

”I don’t know,” Ayanokoji admitted flatly. ”Whatever it was, it wasn’t magic. The shockwave lacked any trace of mana, and the sulfur smell rising in that steam didn’t come from any spell I’ve seen in the empire. Something struck that beast from deep underwater, but I can’t identify the source.”

”Something that isn’t magic...?” Miyuki murmured, staring at him with wide, confused eyes. ”Could it be a different kind of ancient sea beast? Or maybe the Wallachians have secret underwater weapons?”

”Speculating without evidence is useless,” Ayanokoji replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared into the dark horizon. ”All we know is that whatever killed it possessed enough destructive power to obliterate an S-rank monster in seconds. And it’s still out here.”

Before she could say another word, a low, unnatural rumble began to vibrate through the night air.

It wasn’t the sound of thunder. It wasn’t the flapping wings of a dragon or an imperial messenger wyvern.

It was a deep, tearing roar—a deafening mechanical shriek that ripped through the clouds at blistering speed.

”What is that noise?!” Captain Daniel shouted, struggling to stand up, his hand reflexively gripping the hilt of his broadsword. ”Is another beast coming from the skies?!”

The imperial sailors dropped their ropes and looked up in sheer terror.

High above, a dark, angular shape broke through the silver moonlight.

It moved with impossible speed, far faster than any wind-enhanced spell or airborne creature they had ever seen. The silhouette swept downward in a steep descent, screaming toward the two corvettes with an ear-splitting sonic boom that rattled the wooden masts to their core.

CRACK-BOOOOOM!

The shockwave blasted across the deck, forcing several sailors to cover their ears and fall to their knees in agony.

Then, just two hundred feet above the water, the aircraft banked sharply to the left.

The bright moonlight illuminated its matte-gray fuselage, its broad wings, and the single, glowing blue exhaust of its jet engine. As the jet banked directly over the ships, its internal weapons bay doors slid smoothly open, and beneath its wings, two slender, white missiles mounted on external pylons reflected the silver light.

It was a clear, unmistakable posture: I have you locked, and I can erase you in a heartbeat.

The jet circled the ships once with terrifying grace before pitching its nose up and tearing back into the high clouds, leaving behind the lingering scent of burnt jet fuel and the fading roar of its engine.

On the deck, absolute silence fell. The imperial crew stood frozen like statues, staring into the empty sky with their mouths hanging open.

Miyuki sat paralyzed against the barrel. Her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes wide with total, overwhelming disbelief.

”A... a jet...?” she stammered, her voice shaking violently. ”That was... that was an airplane! A fighter jet! Here?!”

Ayanokoji remained standing at the bow railing, his dull eyes locked onto the spot in the clouds where the aircraft had vanished. His expression remained calm, but his mind had instantly connected all the missing pieces.

”Single-engine. Trapezoidal wings. Retractable weapons bays. Diverterless supersonic inlet,” Ayanokoji recited calmly, his voice cold and analytical. ”That was an F-35 Lightning II. Specifically the Charlie variant, modified for carrier catapult operations.”

Miyuki looked up at him, her mind struggling to process what she was hearing.

”The United States...?” she whispered, clutching her hands against her chest. ”Ayanokoji, how could an American fighter jet be flying over the western ocean of this world?! Are there other people from Earth here? Did an entire country get summoned?!”

”A single jet doesn’t operate in the middle of an ocean by itself,” Ayanokoji replied, his tone chillingly level. ”The C-variant is exclusively carrier-based. Which means within a few hundred miles of where we are floating right now, there is a modern nuclear aircraft carrier. And that unexplained explosion earlier...that came from them.”

He looked back down toward the deep water, then glanced over at the trembling imperial crew who were staring into the sky as if they had just seen a god.

”The Goddess and the High Council assumed the Wallachian Empire wiped out the expedition fleet,” Ayanokoji said, a rare, faint glint of interest flickering in his dull eyes. ”They were completely wrong. Valerius didn’t stumble into an ironclad navy.”

He turned his head toward the western horizon.

”They sailed straight into the United States Navy.”