Fort Washington

Month 6, Day 25

1:11 P.M.

“And I thought your pancakes and bacon were good. This steak simply crushes them! What is this steak made of again?”

“Legateur, I am glad you asked,” Ambassador Perry replied. Perry was indeed glad, since the legateur’s interest in American food products presented yet another opportunity for trade. “The meat that you have just eaten is called filet mignon, and it is essentially a cut of beef from a cow’s tenderloin. The seasoning is simple, since this is a military facility and not a renowned restaurant. The seasoning is a combination of various spices, including salt, pepper, rosemary, and garlic.”

“How fascinating…” the Mekkanese diplomat sat there, spaced out. He was remembering the savory deliciousness of the meal. “And these cows, are they plentiful on your world?”

“Oh, yes they very much are. Our country produces enough food for a billion people every year, even though our population is just slightly over 300 million.”

Bonaparius’ eyes widened. 300 million people in one nation alone? That essentially rivaled the population of the Divinian Empire, and also the lives lost during the Ancient War, of course not including the losses of any Axons. He wondered how many people there were on Earth in total. “Wow, 300 million? How many people live on your planet in total?”

“Around seven and a half billion, and I believe we might hit eight billion sometime in the near future.”

Bonaparius remembered the documents he read on America and Earth. Earth was smaller than his own planet, implying that Earth was indeed crowded. What would happen if those billions decided to invade his world and colonize it? He wanted to shudder at the thought, but restrained himself. Instead, he merely showed his surprise toward the extensive number. “Is that so…?”

“Yeah, it sure is. I'm certain you can deduce the kinds of problems that have surfaced among my people because of such overpopulation.”

“I suppose that whatever territorial disputes and conflicts over resources here do not compare to what has happened to your people.”

“Yeah, you could say that. Say, does agricultural magic exist on this world? My nation produces more than enough food for our citizens, but I’d like to help out other countries in our world that have food shortages.”

How interesting… On Gaerra, nations would normally fend for themselves, only communicating with other nations for trade or political purposes, such as an alliance. There were no examples of anyone providing aid to other nations for free, except for the Quod Republic, but that was truly an exception. They fended off the Orc Hordes at the expense of their own warriors, and they did so for the sake of the other civilizations nations throughout the Central Continents. Obviously, it was in everyone’s best interest to ensure that the Quod Republic does not fall.

Considering these thoughts, Bonaparius revised his next question. Suddenly, a man walked up to them.

“Legateur.” The man gave a slight nod.

“Jean.” Bonaparius glanced at him before looking back to Perry. “Perry, this is Third Commander Jean Deaunius, one of my assistants.”

“Partner,” Jean corrected. He then turned to Perry. “Ambassador Perry, please forgive Prion if he has not displayed proper etiquette during his stay here.”

“Oh don’t worry. It is good to meet you, Commander Deaunius.” Perry pronounced the name carefully, wondering why it sounded familiar. In fact, the culture of the Mekkanese were all very familiar. He had spent some time in France and Italy during his pre-portal days. Bonaparte? Jean? Dommieur? Legateur? It seems like the Mekkanese language was based on French culture at the very least. Their titles and names did seem Italian, but not quite. If anything, he guessed that it might be Latin. Realizing his train of thought was distracting him from his guests, he pushed the theories aside. Such speculation was more suited for Dr. Jones anyway.

“Likewise.” Jean replied. “So, what can you tell me of your military?”

“I’m not the most informed when it comes to our weapons and strategies, but I suppose I can give you a rundown of what you might expect to see today…”

Across the room, nine people walked in. Four were from Alpha Team: Major Donnager, Captain Owens, Dr. Jones, and Kelmithus. The rest were from the newly created Bravo Team: Captain Williams, Sergeant Yu, Sergeant Gutierrez, Lieutenant Hayes, and a new member from the Sonaran Federation, Aranmithus.

They walked in, chatting and congratulating Donnager, Owens, and Williams on their respective promotions.

“So you’ve finally got your own command, Williams,” Donnager pointed out.

“Yeah, sir. I don’t think I’ll be getting the missions you’ll be getting though!” Ryan answered.

Major Donnager smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. It’s a big planet. Besides, I hear that Bravo Team is getting an assignment with the local adventurer’s guild in one of the northern Sonaran cities. Rumor has it you’ll be doing some quests in order to collect some rewards that our nerds can study.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as he lit up at the prospect of going on a real life quest. “Oh my God!” He turned to his team, grinning like an idiot.

“Oh calm down, you geek!” Sarah said, hesitating before adding “sir” to the end of her remark.

“Lieutenant Hayes, you’ve gotta learn some culture!” Alex defended his commanding officer.

“See, Alex gets it!” Ryan said.

“I did a few quests recently, actually. Last year, right after I graduated from Master Kel’s academy.” Aranmithus added. “They were low level quests, but they were still good fun. You remember how we blasted those feral wyverns, Master Kel?”

Kelmithus nodded, smiling as he reminisced.

“Well anyway, my point is, as you people say, don’t hit it until you’ve tried it!” Aran continued.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Aran,” Yu corrected.

“Right. Oh look, the lights are dimming!”

The lights in the theater began to dim as a voice crackled to life on the PA system. It requested that everyone take their seats and quiet, as the feature film would begin within the next minute.

Commander Jean Deaunius took his seat between Perry and Prion, his face emotionless. He heard stories of the might these Otherworlders possessed, but until he saw it with his own eyes, he would remain doubtful and suspicious.

The screen flashed to life, showing footage of a pristine mountain range and clear skies. A voiceover and caption identified the area as the Ovine Mountains, near the Ahmalan Ruins. The scene remained unchanged, displaying the beauty of this continent’s nature is crisp 4K ultra HD and 120 frames per second.

Jean raised an eyebrow, straining his eyes as if he could not believe what he was seeing. He looked to his left, seeing Bonaparius doing something similar. He wanted to speak to him, but out of courtesy for the other viewers, he kept his mouth shut and made a mental note to discuss this with him later. He returned his attention to the screen.

“Our target is this army down here, located at the base of the mountain,” the voiceover said as the scene switched to an aerial view of the opposing army.

Jean was astonished. The quality of this reconnaissance far surpassed any picture that the Mekkanese have ever taken. Their recon planes did a similar job, but nothing to the extent of the Americans. Shortly after displaying the army, the scene switched to a different aerial view of the army, which then zoomed out, showing the entire southern half of Eanif. How high would the camera have to be? Feeling like he was getting distracted, he redirected his attention toward the screen.

“...and because of this geological data, our pilots will be targeting specific points along the mountain.” The scene switched to a crisp picture of the mountain. Red circles identified the points the voiceover mentioned. “Our white phosphorus deployments will disorient them and prevent them from escaping the ensuing rockslide.”

A couple people in the room mumbled a bit upon hearing this. Why, he could not guess. As he watched, he saw the scene change to a formation of planes, with a larger version of his own nation’s MB-29 ‘super fortress’ bomber leading the formation. This one however, did not have any propellers for propulsion. It appeared to be using a set of four jet engines, where the propellers are supposed to be.

“Leading the formation is a B-52 Stratofortress bomber, carrying our white phosphorus payload. Flanking it are two B-2 Spirit bombers; they each carry GBU-43 payloads, also known as the Massive Ordnance Air Blast.”

Ambassador Perry leaned over and whispered to him. “Mother of all bombs.”

This unnerved Jean, since it made him think of his own country’s “King of Bombs”, the atomic bomb. It also made him think of the Divinian Empire’s devastating mana bomb, which prompted the Heavenly Light Project in the first place. So far, American naming conventions when it came to their equipment was pretty straightforward. He calmed himself down, thinking that because the weapon did not have ‘nuclear’ or ‘atomic’ in its name, it must be a conventional weapon. Well, he would find out in a bit.

“The bombing will commence in about 180 seconds,” the voiceover explained as the scene panned out to display the distance between the American warplanes and Bractin’s army. “In the meantime, I’ll be discussing the specs of our escorts, the F-15s.”

Jean lit up inside; this was something he was very interested in. He had heard rumors about the flying swords of the Otherworlders, with many in his own country speculating them to be jet aircraft. Indeed, they had their own jets, but they were still early in development, with speeds up to Mach 1. One feat he heard that the Otherworlders were able to accomplish was going faster than the speed of sound. To what extent, he hoped to find out.

“Our 12 escorts will make sure that hostile aircraft, particularly wyverns, don’t get too close to our planes. Now, of course, we could just fly higher than the maximum altitude of the creatures, but our plan relies on precision. Our pilots will have a very low margin of error on this mission. So, they’ll want to fly as low and slow as possible. After the bombers have delivered their payloads, our escorts will deploy theirs: CBU-87 cluster bombs. Each jet here is carrying 12 of these bombs, and each bomb has 202 bomblets. The fighters will not have the same restrictions as the bombers and thus will be performing their maneuver at a speed of just over Mach 2.5… Please hold… I’ve just received word that the Bractin Army has begun to deploy their aerial assets. Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy the show!”

—

Ovine Mountains, near Site Beta One

1:29 P.M.

“Heads up, Dragon Slayers! We’re gonna be shooting down some more dragons today!” Major Gryffin yelled.

“Sir, those are wyverns,” a voice came over the network. It was none other than Gryffin’s best buddy, Captain Hawkins.

“Whatever, Hawkins. Let’s just keep these lizards off the escorts and bombers.”

Gryffin looked below and saw dozens of wyverns jumping into the air. To his surprise, there were less than a hundred wyverns total, but then again, he considered the very nature of this particular army. Wyverns were pretty rare and hard to come by, so much so that they weren’t very accessible to some upstart outlaw nation. The situation could actually be compared to a modern third world nation owning fourth generation fighter aircraft. It would be hard, but doable.

Unfortunately for Bractin’s men, their hard work would have been for naught. As the commanding officer of 4 squadrons, Gryffin directed his men to begin attacking the wyverns. The advanced FCS of the networked jets coordinated their missiles, each of the 48 missiles launched locking onto a separate target.

To the comparatively primitive forces of the Bractin Gang, this attack seemed like magic. Most of them could barely even see the small specks that represented the missiles, of course until it was too late.

BOOM!

The first wave of missiles decimated half of the Bractin Air Corps. Despite this, wyverns continued to launch into the air. The inexperienced officers of Bractin’s inner circle had in fact little professional combat experience, having spent most of their campaigns subjugating enemies through fear and intimidation. Bractin himself stood outside his command tent, too awed by the spectacle to even give orders.

He stared, speechless. It was only until his entire wyvern fleet was destroyed that he spoke, and even then it was only a mumble. “What the fuck just happened…?”

His army acted similarly, all watching their comrades erupting into fireballs. Dark clouds of smoke were all that remained in the sky, as burning husks and dismembered wyvern pieces rained down from above. Some of Bractin’s men had to raise their shields in order to protect themselves from large chunks of flesh. For an army built upon gory atrocities, they sure couldn’t stomach experiencing a taste of their own medicine, evidenced by a number of units along the perimeter that deserted.

Back in the command tent, Bractin gathered some of his officers and initiated a discussion.

“Someone here tell me what. Just. Happened.” Bractin commanded, his face contorted in rage and disbelief.

“Boss, I-I think we musta angered one of them ancient dragons!” Ketan hypothesized, slurring through his buck teeth. Ketan is one of Bractin’s newer lieutenants, somehow earning his position through sheer luck in his various suicide missions.

“And what kinda dragon would have this attack, ya dumb tobo?” Beeven retorted. Unlike Ketan, Beeven earned his position through strategic skill and cunning.

Ketan picked his nose, trying to think of a reasonable reply. “Hey, have you ever seen an ancient dragon?”

Beeven furrowed his brow and glared at Ketan. “You absolute buffoon! Of all the tales of dragons, none have this kind of power!”

Bractin scratched his short beard, amused at the bickering between his lieutenants. Unfortunately for them, his amusement was not an immediate concern. After enjoying the dispute for a few seconds, he decided that they had gone far enough.

“Shut up!”

With everyone silent, they could all finally hear a mysterious sound, soft, but getting louder.

“Do ya hear that?” Ketan asked.

“We all do, ya damn idiot!” Beeven replied.

A glare from Bractin prevented any further altercation between the two.

The sound grew louder and Bractin brought his officers outside of the command tent.

“Look!” Ketan pointed at a quickly dissipating formation of dark smoke. It broke apart, revealing a flying sword, much like the ones rumored to exist near a portal in the North Grenden Plains. Across the sky, more flying swords began to appear until finally, a flying wagon and two flying triangles appeared.

—

“That was some fine shooting fellas. Now let’s give these poor S.O.B.s an airshow.” Major Gryffin announced.

Upon his command, all pilots in his squadrons hit the afterburners on their aircraft, racing just above the ground. Gryffin and his men executed a low pass, creating sonic booms above the Bractin encampment, before pulling up out of sight and reorganizing for a bombing run.

—

(Search up “sonic boom examples” or “space x rocket sonic boom” on YouTube)

“Agh! My ears!” Beeven screamed.

“See! We just made some ancient dragons real mad! Look at their wind magic!” Ketan yelled. He referred to the cones produced by the jets as they broke the sound barrier.

They continued their remarks until they were eventually silenced by Bractin, who directed their attention to the enormous flying monsters overhead.

“Why aren’t they breathing fire on us?” Ketan asked just as the white phosphorus was deployed.

Beeven attempted to conjure a witty reply, but couldn’t as he began to choke, his eyes burning. The area around them began to fill with smoke, thanks to a burning fire that engulfed the command tent. Beeven looked to Bractin as he fell to his knees, his vision deteriorating. Bractin was surrounded by a translucent blue shield; he wore a protective amulet that helped defend him against environmental hazards, such as toxic fumes and high heat.

Bractin stood, watching his subordinates suffocate. He looked around. A few tents over, people seemed to be faring better. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that this area was relatively far from the fires, and so he deduced it was safer there. He walked, watching people around him die. Some were intelligent enough to realize his objective, and went to one of the safer areas. Suddenly, he heard two massive explosions. He frantically worked to identify the sources, finding two rising plumes of black smoke coming from the mountainside. Then, he heard a heart-sinking rumbling noise.

“No…”

He ran toward the wyvern stables, glad to see that it was mostly untouched by the dragon’s fires. His steed uttered a noise as he approached. Undoubtedly, it was suffering from the effects of the toxic atmosphere around them.

“C’mon boy, let’s get outta here,” Bractin ordered, untying the wyvern.

He hopped on its back and fled as the mountain came crashing down on his men. Remembering the scene involving the other wyverns, he instructed his steed to fly low and slow, directing it toward a tree line. He didn’t know how the metal dragons were able to detect their targets, but he assumed that it would be safer if he stayed away from the open skies.

As his wyvern made its way to the tree line, he looked back, having heard the flying swords once more. Fortunately for him, they didn’t seem to care about him, if they knew he was there at all. Instead, their focus was directed toward his army. The swords flew over the encampment, releasing things from their underbellies. Moments later, Bractin witnessed as his half-buried encampment erupted into bright explosions numbering in the thousands. He watched in despair as the power of the gods completely blanketed his army in a million bursts of light.

Was this the power of the Sonarans’ patron deity? Could they have established a pact with demons? His thoughts drifted for a few seconds before he realized that he most likely would never discover the origin of the metal dragons. As such, he turned his steed back into the forest, vowing never again to anger the gods with his unscrupulous deeds.