July 20, 1639

Fortress City Ejei, Qua Toyne Principality

General Nou rubbed his eyes, growing tired of the constant harassment from Lourian cavalry groups. All throughout the night, enemy forces rode up along the walls of the fortress, creating a ruckus and taunting the Qua Toynian defenders. He was tempted to send out his wyverns to crush their knights in one fell swoop, but decided against it, fearing a possible ambush.

Thankfully, his assistant was approached by an officer from the United States Air Force, who dropped by to confirm that no Qua Toynians were present outside Ejei’s walls. According to his assistant, the Americans planned to conduct an air strike on the main Lourian camp. When questioned on how they would handle the enemy wyverns, the officer simply chuckled and said, “Don’t worry about that. We’ve got everything covered.”

Despite his initial attitude toward the Americans, he couldn’t help but wonder how they plan on conducting their air strike, especially considering that their nation had no wyverns at all. His assistant walked up to him and handed him a strange object. “General, the American officer gave me a few of these. They’re called binoculars,” he said as he put them to his eyes. He smiled slightly, surprised at the utility of the device. “They’re used for seeing things at a very far distance,” he offered one to General Nou.

He looked toward the Lourian camp. The once miniature figures in the distance now seemed close, and Nou nodded in approval. “Excellent,” he said. Before he could say anything else, a helicopter flew over him, moving toward the Lourian camp. Is this their airstrike?

——

Ejei Airbase

Nakamoto looked up from his spaghetti roe meal as he saw someone enter the large tent. “Baker, what’s the game plan?”

Baker pulled out a map from his back pocket and unfolded it. “Colonel wants us to go here,” he said, pointing to a seemingly empty spot in the middle of nowhere.

Nakamoto squinted at the spot. “What? We’re not gonna join the offensive on Gim?”

Baker shook his head. “Nah, dude. We got a bigger mission to do. Some of the intel guys found out, from a few of the refugees who fled from Gim, that a small force stayed behind to help escort slave caravans back to Louria. The flyboys worked with this info, and sent out a few drones to check out the nearby villages. One of them was that Elven village — that group we saved earlier came from there. Just yesterday one of our drones found a caravan moving from one of the local villages toward the Lourian border. We’re gonna head out and investigate that.”

“Alright. When we leaving?”

“After the fireworks show. We don’t wanna get stuck out there while the Air Force is too busy, and these asshats are moving pretty slowly, so we can wait a bit for air support.”

“Sounds good,” Nakamoto said, finishing his juice.

——

Eastern Lords Division Encampment

Jean-Philia found solace in the size of the army he commanded. A force of 20,000 was certainly no joke, but then again, there existed rumors that a force of over 4,000 ships crumbled to merely 5. Jean-Philia pushed the uneasiness to the back of his mind, but they resurfaced as a strange flying contraption approached, creating a mild gale as it hovered over the camp.

With a booming metallic voice, it announced, “This is the United States Air Force! Surrender now, with a white flag, or we will bomb this site to oblivion!”

The machine remained out of range of even the best archers’ arrows, repeating its message several times until it eventually flew away. Although his interest was piqued by the object, he could not shake the foreboding tidal wave of fear that suddenly overcame him. His interest and confusion paled in comparison to the sense of dread that crept up his spine. He looked over to Magician Washner. “Any signatures?”

Washner shook his head. “No. No magic signatures at all! Just like the rumors,” he muttered softly.

Jean-Philia felt a premonition, followed by a sharp pang of guilt. Trusting his intuition, he whispered to Washner, “I’m going to move my observational tent to the hill on our right.”

“Hmm?”

“I… I have an inexplicable feeling that something terrible is going to happen.”

“Then why not call off the attack or retreat?”

Sweat trickled down Jean-Philia’s forehead. “They only provided the option of surrender, and we don’t have any options in the first place. This — this dread is uncanny!”

Washner nodded. “I understand. I too fear if the rumors are secretly true.”

“Good then. Let us make haste.” He then turned to the lords who were busy debating strategies and discussing the implications of the machine’s arrival. “Eastern Lords,” he said, hiding his guilt.

The lords all ceased their discussion and turned to face him.

“The arrival of the machine does not change our plans. We shall begin our assault within the hour, as dictated by Lieutenant General Adem’s orders. Please ensure your men are ready.”

Some of the lords looked like they wanted to protest the assignment, but upon hearing Adem’s name, they quickly abandoned all thoughts of dissent. The lords all saluted, then exited the room to rally their troops. Jean-Philia and Washner were left alone in the tent, with Jean’s hands beginning to tremble.

“This does not feel right,” he muttered.

——

As Jean-Philia inspected the orderly columns of troops from his new observational tent, he couldn’t help but feel pride at the organization of the Lourian military. The only thing they were missing in this engagement were wyverns. However, the warning from earlier remained in his mind. If the context provided by the machine — ‘United States Air Force’ — meant anything, then the coming attack would likely be from similar aircraft or wyverns. With the wyverns currently stationed in Gim, Jean-Philia made a last-minute decision.

“Washner, we won’t be seeing the American army, or the Qua Toynian defenders. ‘Air Force’... They must be planning to use wyverns against our troops! Quickly, request wyvern support from Gim! Without air power, our troops will be helpless against their attacks,” he gasped. He silently cursed himself for only realizing this now.

“Ok,” Washner said, activating his manacomm. He requested for 50 wyverns, then awaited their response. He turned to Jean-Philia. “Okay, command has approved to send 50 wyverns. They will arrive in ten minutes.”

Jean-Philia sighed, looking up at the sky. “Ten minutes is a long time…”

——

Skies above Ejei

Harry Richthofen marveled at the scenery below him. Much like Maihark, Ejei was like a historical beauty, boasting architecture only known to the modern world via old paintings and fantasy stories. He wondered when he might be able to mingle with some of the locals, and if the locals had alien STDs, but his thoughts were cut off by his radio. “Be advised, a group of fifty hostiles has exited the airspace of Gim. Current trajectory: Ejei. Distance: 30 klicks.”

“Roger that, thanks for the heads up, over,” Richthofen replied.

The new targets flared up on his heads-up display. Leading four F-16s, Richthofen ordered his men to engage the enemy wyverns, so that the bombing run could proceed uninhibited. He pushed his F-35 forward, collecting targeting data for his fellow pilots and designating eight wyverns per person, while he and his wingman would each take down nine.

He looked behind him; the flight of three B-52 stratofortresses shrunk in the distance. With the wyverns coming into effective range, he took a breath, his hand wrapped around the joystick and ready to press down. Speaking over the sound of his plane’s engine, he gave the order to fire. “Fox Two!”

——

Trails of smoke darted away from the wings of the metal dragons, heading toward the direction of the reinforcing wyvern knights. “No…” Washner said dramatically, his voice riddled with disbelief. Thinking back on the rumors, he didn’t want to believe that the metal dragons were capable of such destruction, but the weapons they used clearly fit the description. “Homing light arrows,” he muttered. “Just what kind of sorcery…”

After expending their munitions, the aircraft banked upward and flew back toward the way they came from, shrieking like a banshee as they cut seamlessly through the air. The speeds at which they performed this maneuver were astonishing, sending both Jean-Philia and Washner into denial. Their wide eyes followed the receding shapes of gray in the sky until they shrank into nothingness, disappearing into the background of the blue skies.

They looked back toward the wyverns. Moments later, flashes of light and flame erupted in the skies. The resulting sound from the explosions slammed into the Lourians like an earthquake — one that shook the very foundation of their morale and toppled it, causing it to crumble into the void. The effect of the display was evident; Jean-Philia saw his army falter as they stopped marching. Shouts arose from the ranks of his troops, signifying doubt and disorder until the regional lords were able to calm down the troops.

Then, they heard the droning sounds. It started as a low rumble, almost inaudible when compared to the marching men below the hill, then cascaded into a loud buzzing noise. They looked up and saw the titanic monsters, boasting wingspans similar to those of legendary divine dragons. Flying low, they seemed to cover a significant portion of the sky. They were escorted by the silver aircraft from earlier.

The Lourian army did not falter; they maintained their order and continued to March toward Ejei, unaware of the devastation to come. Jean-Philia yelled at Washner, “What are they doing?! Send this to the lords: they need to scatter! They need to separate into anti-aerial formations now! Treat the enemy aircraft as wyverns with a powerful air attack unless proven otherwise!”

Washner complied, and the order within the marching army disintegrated as they split into groups moving in different directions. In response, the approaching aircraft widened their path, putting more distance between themselves. Although large, they traveled at a ludicrous speed, faster than even the quickest Lourian wyvern. Despite the Lourian army’s best attempts, they could not escape the shadow of the monstrosities above, and all witnessed as the metal beasts opened up their underbellies. An unstoppable hail of dark objects fell from the sky, blanketing the troops below.

Time seemed to slow down for Jean-Philia and his observational officers as they watched the objects fall. This is what the warning earlier meant: the Lourian army was literally to be bombed to oblivion. The first bombs did not even touch the ground, to the Lourians’ curiosities. Instead, they blossomed into hundreds of submunitions, which then erupted with fierce might. Sparks of light flashed throughout the panicking Lourians, sparing no one. Not even their renowned cavalry was able to escape the reaches of the hellish flames that scorched the plains. The screams of the anguished dying were drowned out by the sound of hundreds of explosions laying waste to men and horses indiscriminately.

“So, this is the power of the United States of America? Are they in league with demons?!” Jean-Philia cried out as he watched explosions engulf the men he had come to know over the past decade. Survivor’s guilt struck him like lightning, forcing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “I had a premonition… I could’ve done more,” he said shakily.

Washner simply stared at the scene before him. Bits of men, horses, and metal flew into the air, almost indistinguishable from each other. Everything became charred, burnt to a crisp or mutilated to the degree of unrecognizability. The sheer destructive power was surprising, but not as much as the fact that no magical signatures emanated from the catastrophe. Washner tried to reconfigure the detector, but it still displayed nothing. He reasoned that it could be the result of magical inhibitors, which can hide magic, but even then it wouldn’t hide the magical signal completely. “What kind of… magic,” he said with a shock, “Is this?”

The volcanic devastation unleashed by the metal beasts ceased as the last of the bombs detonated. Plumes of black smoke rose from the ashes of the dead, and when it cleared, Jean-Philia couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude that he had listened to his intuition. He paused to observe the results of the American bombing. Craters littered the once-beautiful grassy plains, covering the earth like a horrible breakout of acne. Scattered throughout the ‘battlefield’ were the remains of the 20,000 strong army.

“They didn’t even have a chance to fight,” Jean-Philia muttered. “They were just stomped out, like ants in the face of a marching army. What… why…?” He broke down.

——

General Nou spectated the event with an open jaw, speechless.

“Enjoying the show?” General Hammond asked.

Nou set down his binoculars. Unable to think of anything to say, he simply nodded.

“Well, I see Operation Shock was aptly named. Congratulations, General. Ejei held against an army of twenty thousand without losing a single man,” he clasped his hand on Nou’s back.

“I— I appreciate your aid, General Hammond,” Nou replied meekly.

“Pleasure of the United States Air Force. I’m looking forward to working with you,” he offered a hand.

“Likewise. So… what comes next?”

“Hm? We’re gonna be retaking Gim tomorrow. I heard some of our guys were tasked with liberating a few slave caravans from those damn Lourians. Hopefully that turns out well.”

“Retaking Gim? I wasn’t informed of that,” Nou felt his pride injured, as he was not among the first to know.

“Oh, you should be getting a message through one of your uh… mana comm things. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some work to attend to. Have a good day, General.”