Regressed with Omnipotent AI on Zombie Apocalypse(FF)

Among the group, a few stood out. The F-22 pilots were seasoned professionals, experienced in real combat. But the rest? They were a mixed bag. Some had been hastily transferred from civil aviation. Others hadn't flown more than a handful of times. A few had never been inside a fighter cockpit until this mission.

Still, once they were airborne, it didn't seem to matter. The nineteen fighters quickly formed a neat combat fleet. On radar, the red blips of their planes lined up in formation, approaching a solitary red dot that moved with an unnatural precision.

"Sir, nineteen enemy fighters spotted!" Ego's voice chimed in Zack's ears. "They'll enter the enemy's locking range in ten seconds!"

Zack's tone was icy. "Where did these fools find so many pilots?"

In the high-stakes game of modern air combat, maneuverability was king. And the Apex armor Zack piloted wasn't just a step ahead—it was a leap. No number of fighter planes could close the technological gap.

Soon, Zack's display came alive with the telltale sounds of missile locks. The HUD filled with circular icons marking targets: four, then five, then six. Unlike the chaotic dogfights of World War II, modern aerial combat was all about beyond-visual-range engagements. Before enemies could even spot one another with the naked eye, missiles were already locked and fired.

"It's just a matter of who has better tech," Zack muttered. His grin turned cold as he watched the number of locks climb to eleven. "Against me, it's hardly a fair fight."

The Apex was still outside the locking range of the enemy squadron, yet Zack had already locked onto eleven of their planes. He knew his tech superiority would make this encounter a one-sided massacre. "But I'm fine with that," Zack murmured. He had no intention of drawing out the battle. If these pilots had been anyone else, he might have toyed with them. But for these two-bit enemies, he planned to crush them outright.

"Fire." With that single word, the missile bay on Zack's left shoulder snapped open. Eleven micro-guided missiles launched in rapid succession, streaking through the sky like arrows. Their targets were spread across the formation, ensuring maximum damage.

The micro-missiles weren't as fast as Zack himself, so as he surged ahead, the missiles quickly fell behind.

A warning blared in his ears. "Sir, you're locked!"

"I see it," Zack replied calmly. On the HUD, four enemy missiles—Sidewinders launched by the F-22 pilots—raced toward him, their speed peaking at Mach 2.5.

"Deploy countermeasures," Zack ordered. As the Sidewinders closed in, Zack dove sharply, his movements so fast they seemed impossible. At the same time, his armor released more than twenty heat decoys, bright flares designed to confuse the missiles.

The sky lit up with a series of explosions as the Sidewinders were tricked into targeting the decoys. One after another, they detonated prematurely, leaving only fireballs in their wake. "The target is using advanced countermeasures!" one of the F-22 pilots shouted. "Our long-range attack failed. Spread out and prepare for close-range combat!"

The enemy formation broke apart. Seventeen remaining fighters veered off in different directions—some climbing, others diving, each pilot trying to find the best position for an attack. That's when disaster struck. An Su-30 piloted by an inexperienced Ah San collided with an F-15 piloted by another rookie. Both had chosen the same escape route, and neither reacted quickly enough.

"Get out of the way!" "Move!" Their screams were cut short by a deafening explosion. The two planes disintegrated in mid-air, the wreckage plummeting to the ground alongside the pilots who hadn't even had time to eject.

Zack, now within visual range, watched the scene unfold. "Did… did they just take each other out?" he muttered, stunned. His missiles hadn't even reached the formation yet, but the enemy had already lost two planes.

"The target is in range—attack!"The remaining seventeen fighters opened fire. Missiles streaked toward Zack from every direction. He locked onto the two F-22s immediately. These were the only planes in the enemy squadron that posed even a minor threat.

Zack accelerated, weaving through the barrage with inhuman movement. The Apex's maneuverability made it seem as though Zack was threading a needle at supersonic speed.

Unable to land a direct hit, several pilots resorted to detonating their missiles manually, hoping the shockwaves or shrapnel would bring Zack down.

Explosions surrounded him, filling the sky with fire and debris. But the Apex's Ultralium alloy armor shrugged off the shrapnel like it was nothing."Time to take these F-22s out of the equation, "Turn on the flap booster!" he barked, adjusting his position quickly.

As the booster kicked in, the turbulence disappeared, stabilizing him instantly. "Quick! Intercept him now!" "Don't let him get near us!" The pilots of two F-22s panicked, their voices crackling over the comms as they shouted orders to each other. Desperation crept into their tones as they watched Zack close the gap. The sleek humanoid figure in the sky moved with terrifying speed and precision.

Both F-22s pitched their noses up, trying to climb away from his approach. But Zack, undeterred, pierced through their defensive line like an arrow. In seconds, he was alongside one of the fighters, flying parallel with unnerving ease. "I see him! He's right next to me!" "Humanoid aircraft—he's closing in!"

The pilot of the F-22 glanced out his side window, sweat beading on his forehead. His hands gripped the controls tightly as he tried to shake Zack off. But no matter what he did—diving, weaving, accelerating—the F-22 couldn't match the agility of Zack's Apex suit. Trapped, he was too close for his allies to risk firing.

"What does he want?!" The pilot's voice trembled as he looked directly at Zack, who hovered just outside the canopy. Zack tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable through the helmet. Then, in a calm, steady voice, he spoke over their channel. "Look ahead."

The eerie composure of Zack's words sent a chill through the pilot. Against his better judgment, the pilot instinctively turned to see what lay ahead. One glance was all it took. His face went pale. "Guided—" he began, but the words were swallowed by the deafening blast as a micro-missile no larger than a pencil slammed into the nose of his aircraft.

Boom! The sky lit up as the F-22 burst into a massive fireball. It didn't stop there. Ten more micro-missiles followed, each homing in on their targets with flawless precision. Boom, boom, boom—one explosion after another painted the sky with fiery wreckage. The missiles moved slowly, almost leisurely, compared to the fleeing fighter planes. To an observer, it looked less like the missiles struck their targets and more like the planes deliberately flew into their own destruction.

Meanwhile, Zack turned his attention to the remaining fighters. With the speed and maneuverability of the Apex, he was untouchable in close-range combat. His palm cannons charged and fired in quick succession. Boom! Another fighter down. Boom! And another.

The sky became a graveyard. One by one, all six remaining planes fell, torn apart by Zack's relentless attack. None managed to land a single hit on him.