《Grimoires and Gunsmoke》


 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 1

    A Lord dined alone in an opulent but empty banquet hall. Methodically, he cut each bite of food before slowly bringing it to his long, feathered dragon-like snout.  The brilliant white feathers shimmered with each bite of succulent meat. His feast table was laid with a broad selection of options, but the Lord gravitated towards his comfort food and plucked morsels only from the platter of seared but still bleeding meats.


    To the casual observer, it was merely another grand feast for another person of importance. But to a solitary human servant with a keen eye¡­ it was anything but ordinary.


    The servant woman automatically adjusted the sleeves on her uniform and brushed her hand over her splendid platinum blonde hair tied up into a neat bun, making sure her appearance was neat and orderly for the Lord¡¯s gaze.  While clasping her pale hands behind her back, she pursed her lips as she felt the tension brewing in the room. This imposing dragon-like humanoid, adorned with opalescent white shading to gold feathers, seemed stressed out of his mind as he poked at his food while lost in thoughts.


    The servant shifted and gathered her courage.  "Y-Your grace, Varian¡­"  She spoke up hesitantly, "¡­. is there an issue with the meal? Would you prefer I bring it back to be remade?"


    Her voice reached the Dragonoid through his stupor.  His gaze shifted from the window, the view from which showed a sprawling city beneath his gargantuan castle, and he focused on the servant. "Ah¡­ I appreciate the thought, Luva," Varian began, absently smoothing out a ruffled feather, ¡°but no, the meal is exquisite, as always. It''s just that these earthly pleasures... they seem to have faded in their allure."


    Luva felt a surge of anxiety. Emotions coursed through her at the remark and her eyes began to swim. Was the food that bad? Was he displeased with her service? Luva''s mind raced with doubts. As a newcomer in the halls of the main castle, she was acutely aware of her insignificance. Here she was, standing in the presence of Emperor Lord Varian of the Seraphic Empire, a being whose decisions shaped the destiny of millions. She felt like an ant in his presence, and Luva feared that any slight could become a grave error leading to her swift dismissal¡ªor worse. However, instead of the scathing scolding she had expected, her lord just offered her another magnanimous look and lifted his hand to gesture for her to speak her mind.


    ¡°Go on, ask your question,¡± he encouraged, keeping a neutral face.  Varian knew from experience that mimicking a Human or Elf¡¯s smile would inspire nothing panic instead of confidence. His rows of razor-sharp teeth and his long maw would make it seem more like he was trying to consume rather than comfort her.


    ¡°Y-Your grace,¡± she began softly, choosing her words with care, ¡°p-perhaps¡­ perhaps it¡¯s my ineptitude diminishing your appetite?"


    The Lord chuckled lightly at that, the sound deep and resonant, echoing through the grand hall. "No no no no!" He immediately replied, dispelling her misconception with a wave. "No, there''s nothing wrong with what you¡¯re doing. It¡¯s just¡­ the burden of responsibility is getting to me.¡±


    A blank look clouded Luva¡¯s face as she blinked in surprise. "O-Oh¡­!¡± she murmured before bowing her head deeply. ¡°I apologize, your grace! I didn''t mean to presume," she started, but Varian again waved her off.


    "There¡¯s no need to kowtow, Luva," he said with a gentle exhale, amused, the tips of his incisors showing despite his neutral countenance. "You¡¯re doing wonderfully. I¡¯m stressed from overseeing such a vast empire. Some of the burdens I bear and expectations I have to meet are too profound for any mere mortal."


    Luva¡¯s gaze cautiously met Varian''s. Behind the Lord, an enormous gilt painting of his celestial parents loomed, framing him under their watchful gazes.  His sire, the dragon who carved the Seraphic Empire from the ruins of decades long civil war, the embodiment of vast authority and imperial majesty, and his dame, the ethereal goddess of magic, Elven Mother, loomed larger than life, dwarfing their flesh and blood son.  Luva was struck by his marked resemblance to his father, although he was humanoid and not full Dragonkin.  She could feel the immense pressure from living up to such an extraordinary lineage. His parents were beings of myth, creatures that humans and even elves whispered about in awe and fear. To carry the blood of a goddess and the oldest of celestial dragons meant that expectations were not just high¡ªthey were practically impossible. Every decision, every action, would be scrutinized not just by his subjects or his court but by the history and legacy of his ancestors.


    "To be born of both sky and earth, divine and draconic, is both a blessing and a bane." Varian sighed as he brought another piece of meat to his mouth.


    Luva froze, feeling as if he¡¯d just plucked her thoughts out of her head and answered them.  "Your Grace, might there be any way I can lighten your load?" she finally managed to squeak out after gathering the courage to speak.


    Varian paused for a moment, his gaze resting on Luva with a mix of appreciation and resignation. "You are very kind and dutiful, Luva. But no," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. He stood up, his towering form casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the banquet hall. As he slid his chair in with a quiet scrape against the stone floor, he added, "I think I''m done for now."


    Luva watched the Lord walk back to his chambers.  She felt something pull at her, a desire to alleviate the burden he carried. "Is there nothing I can do to help?" she called out, a hint of desperation in her voice.


    Coming to a stop just in front of her, Varian turned to face her and regarded the woman for a moment. The look of concern was etched deep on her face and he couldn¡¯t help but be satisfied with her devotion and dutifulness. "Well, if you really want to help..." he began, looking her up and down.


    The servant''s face reddened slightly at his scrutinizing gaze. Yet she stood firm, determined to offer whatever assistance she could.


    "I may ask you to stop by my chamber to help me... de-stress," he finally said, his voice low and earnest.


    A mix of emotions coursed through Luva as her eyes widened at his request. Surprise, uncertainty, but above all, a steadfast resolve to be of service. She knew that helping a Lord might extend beyond the typical duties of a servant. It might mean lending an ear to his troubles, offering words of comfort, or¡­ offering him other forms of comfort. However, she never would have considered a Dragonkin would be interested in anyone other than other Dragonkins.


    "Of course, Your Grace. I will be there," she replied almost immediately, lowering her head in deference.


    Varian nodded his head in approval with the look of anticipation shining in his eyes. "Very good," he responded with a deep and resonant voice. ¡°I expect you within the hour.¡±


    As he turned to leave, the Dragonkin watched his servant give another bow as his tongue flicked out, running across his maw in hunger.


    By the time the Emperor made his way to his regal chambers, Luva couldn¡¯t help the fact that her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement. Never in her wildest dreams did she think something like¡­ this would be possible. And as the grand doors to his chambers closed behind him with a quiet but definitive thud, Luva was left alone in the vast, echoing hall.


    Once within the confines of his private sanctuary, Varian moved towards the massive window overlooking the bustling castle grounds below.  The Emperor was so high up, people of his great Empire looked like mere ants while they went about their duties.


    Duties which HE dictated¡­


    There was something about that thought that made the  Emperor¡¯s heart flutter with excitement. To order a mere mortal to whatever one would wish, be it mundane or complex, was a power that Varian could turn to a reality with an errant thought. Whether that be making the most powerful lords bend their knee, compel a soldier to take their own life for his amusement, have entire legions march to war, or¡­


    Having a being of another species spread their legs.


    Within the borders of the great Seraphic Empire, his will was unchallenged, his authority absolute. The law of the land was a fabric woven from his desires and expectations. People worked, celebrated, and lived at the whim of his silent commands.  But as Varian''s eyes drifted to the massive statue erected in honor of his Mother and father, a sense of dread replaced his anticipation. His mind groaned under the ever-present reminder of the sheer weight the two divinities placed on his shoulders.


    His dragon-like maw remained motionless, but his jaw tightened, his feathers rippling and smoothing flat again. Varian knew he had not yet earned the honor of standing amongst the divines, but that would be remedied soon, he fervently promised himself. His gaze left the window and fell sourly on the ornate hourglass in the corner of the chamber.  Golden grains of sand dribbled through the tapered glass and fell onto the massive pile on the bottom.


    Time.  Not much left. Time was an ever-grinding constant, a force that brought everyone to their knees, whether they be beggars or kings, he reflected sourly.  Even he couldn¡¯t escape it without help.  But soon, his time of greatness was coming to pass.


    He sat lost in circling thoughts as he waited, until finally the chamber''s fireplace roared to life, ferociously spewing dancing flames from its mouth and illuminating the room with giddily dancing shadows.


    "Ah, Alastor,¡± Varian''s sonorous, resonant voice broke the room''s stillness as he turned his head back to the window, pointedly turning away from the spectacle of flames, his posture dismissive. "How wonderful it is that the Herald of the Hells graces my sanctuary once more," he said without even turning around. ¡°You Devils certainly know how to make an entrance.¡±


    Clad in refined attire a century out of date, a human with sharp and chiseled features walked from the flames and performed an elegant bow to the Emperor¡¯s indifferent shoulder. "When a being of such unparalleled splendor calls, even the Infernal Depths stand to attention," he declared, his tone dripping with honey.


    Palpable tension between the two filled the air; this encounter was another hand of a long running game between them as they navigated their layers of intertwined and akimbo veiled agendas.


    With a deliberate flourish, fiery sparks shot out from Alastor''s hand and an ornate scroll slowly materialized. The parchment, ancient yet crisp and fresh, was sealed with an emblem that combined Varian''s quetzal rampant and Alastor¡¯s personal seal, his silhouette in profile executed in crimson and gold. As it unfurled, the words etched upon it seemed to move and shift, encrypted against the casual glance.  The scroll delineated their grand deal, an agreement to facilitate Varian¡¯s ascension beyond the pedestrian boundaries of mortality to stand alongside the pantheon of gods. Varian, already a demigod but still hungry to prove himself against the immortal legacy of his parents, sought the final pieces of power to solidify his divine stature.


    "I have fulfilled my part," Alastor began, voice dripping with dark amusement. "Now I ask you to fulfill yours." A few sparks crackled from the Devil¡¯s mouth for a moment, and an intense blaze filled his eyes.


    ¡°It is to my understanding you have The Banished One in your possession. Give her to me,¡± Alastor demanded as he stood staring at Varian''s back.


    Varian slowly turned to face Alastor, his eyes radiant with the new power flooding him as the deal between them neared consummation.  His gaze fell on the scroll in the Devil''s hand, the infernal instrument wasn''t merely parchment; it was alive¡ªa breathing testament to the promises and debts woven between the two formidable beings.


    As Alastor emphasized his demand, the scroll reacted in kind. From its ancient surface, blazing letters rose, hovering mid-air, forming a mesmerizing holographic tableau that portrayed their binding agreement in the infernal script.


    "I am well aware of our arrangement, Alastor," Varian replied, his voice smooth yet authoritative. Every syllable uttered caused the letters on the scroll to dance as if responding to their master''s voice. "And you will have her in due time¡­ But tell me, why do you desire her so fervently? Surely you could wait another week or two."


    Alastor''s demeanor shifted slightly, betraying a hint of impatience and outrage. The room grew hotter as his voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Every moment she remains out of my grasp, the chains that the infernal realm have on your soul pull tighter. Time, Varian, is a luxury you cannot afford." The devil squeezed his fist tighter to emphasize his point and the letters spelling out the contract burned brighter, casting the entire chamber in a pulsing cherry glow.


    Varian pulled his eyes away from the scroll and he poured the entire weight of his gaze onto Alastor, attempting to winnow out the Devil¡¯s intent beyond this immediate gambit. The Dragonkin smirked when he finally spoke, revealing a row of needle tipped teeth. ¡°I have yet to break our agreement, Alastor." He replied, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and defiance. "I may have ascended beyond mere mortality, but I have not forgotten our pact. Nor do I take lightly the tether you hold over my soul."


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The light in the room shifted uneasily, the furnishings appearing to quake and jump, a trick of the wildly flickering fire glow. The effect intensified as flames licked around Alastor, and his long, barbed tail materialized, belying his human mask. For the first time since entering the opulent chamber, Alastor¡¯s poise slipped. A trace of uncertainty flitted across his chiseled face, fleeting as a windblown ember. "Then tell me, Varian, why this delay?¡±  Alastor¡¯s voice was eerily earnest, lacking the bombastic honey he¡¯d opened the salley with. ¡°What do you hope to achieve by withholding her from me?"


    Varian''s smirk grew wider, his majestic presence radiating confidence. "Did you truly believe my ambitions were limited to becoming a demigod?" He began gesturing broadly with both arms, and the feathered crest on the back of his head echoed the regal gesture, golden plumes raising and spreading to catch the firelight. "While our agreement holds weight, I have been thorough in my reading. There is no time limit on when I have to deliver The Banished One, and her powers have a purpose far beyond what the mortals understand."


    Alastor''s eyes narrowed as the fire defining the contract abruptly collapsed back into an ordinary paper scroll. His pretty face tightened in a scowl, his human mask slipping a little more. The Devil¡¯s tail twitched irritably and the air of the chamber was thick and close with heat and the sulfurous reek of the Abyss. ¡°I do not know what you are planning, Varian, but you tread on dangerous grounds.¡± Alastor growled, his expression dark, contrasting his perfectly sculpted features. ¡°The powers you speak of are unpredictable. Chaotic.¡±  He showed his teeth, his words clipped and emphatic.  ¡°Beyond your comprehension.¡±


    The feathered Emperor drew himself up, feeling how close he was to winning this round.  His eyes sparkled with anticipation and excitement, the ravenous hunger of his ambition driving him recklessly. "Risk is the price of ambition, Alastor. Did you think I would just be satisfied with such half-measures?" Varian leaned forward, his voice iced over with resolve. "My scholars have felt it ¡ª a pulse, a whisper from the beyond. The Unclaimed. They believe we can create a bridge to this uncharted realm, teeming with untapped souls."


    ¡°MADNESS!¡± Alastor roared. His elegant mask ripped away entirely as he contorted into his dark, true form. Obsidian skin stretched over tight muscle, punctuated with jagged bone spires up his spine. He unfurled expansive, leathery wings and beat the air in frustrated rage. His face retained its chiseled angular perfection, but he was crowned by grotesque horns, and his eyes were incandescent. ¡°You gamble with the very fabric of existence, Varian! Meddling with such realities risks not just your empire or this world but the balance of all realms!¡±


    Varian let out a condescending chuckle, pleased that he¡¯d provoked the Devil into losing control of himself. He flicked his hand and the contract obeyed, levitating between them, no longer in Alastor¡¯s grip.  Glowing ethereal letters pulsed vividly, highlighting the clauses that bound them both. "Ah, Alastor, your memory seems a tad rusty. Might I remind you of this little stipulation?" He gestured toward a line on the contract that shimmered brighter than the rest. "As long as this contract stands, no harm shall befall me from the hands or will of the Hells."


    Drawing himself up to his full height, Varian''s feather-crested mane fluffed with newfound arrogance. "Your dire warnings and threats fall on deaf ears, DEVIL. I will pursue the path to true godhood, and no demon, celestial, or whatever else comes crawling out will stand in my way." Dismissing Alastor''s misgivings with a wave, he added, "Should you be concerned about our agreement, I suggest you assist me in ensuring its success rather than mewling about prophetic magicks."


    With a calculated glint, Varian turned and gestured towards the giant, ornate hourglass at the corner of the chamber. The golden sands within were on the verge of running out, the final grains ticking down to the imminent opening of the rift.


    "See there, Alastor? Time is almost upon us," he mused, beaming with pride as the pieces all came together. "My plan is already in motion. Beyond those borders," he continued, pointing to the vast map spread out on a table behind him, "lands are teeming with resources and glory that await my legions and unclaimed souls that are looking for a new god. A new world ripe for the Empire." The dragonkin¡¯s voice was merely a whisper as his taloned hand gently slid across the map and settled on the wild lands.


    Varian¡¯s fingers then traced the borders of his sprawling empire and lingered over certain marked regions, indicative of his contingency plans. "Here," he began, pointing to fortified castles and fortresses marked in gold, "my loyal vassals, ever ready to defend our honor and legacy." He then moved his hand over a wild, untamed area of the map. "And these wild lands... unpredictable, yes, but they serve as a buffer. If the worst comes to pass, they will be the first to face the wrath, the first line of defense, or, if need be, the first sacrifice."


    Alastor''s mind raced, thoughts swirling in a storm of dread and frustration, paralyzed by the terms of the contract to stop the disaster in motion in front of him. Into the morbid silence that hung between them, his internal musings thundered, unfiltered. "It''s the tragic paradox of mortalkind: Deny them their freedom, and they label you a despot. Grant them autonomy, and they often turn into the oppressors they once condemned."  Though bound by the iron-clad clauses of their contract, the Devil''s demeanor once again shifted from suppressed rage to earnest desperation. "Varian," he implored, his fiery gaze searching the Emperor¡¯s. "Do not let pride and ambition blind you to the cataclysms that may unfold. Can''t you see? Even as a spawn of the hells I warn you that your quest for power could unleash chaos on a scale you can''t even fathom!"


    The Devil''s voice dropped to a haunting whisper that filled the room, echoing off the walls, his tone chilled as he reexperienced his memories of past tragedies. "Were you not taught of the events that led to The Banished One''s imprisonment in the first place!? There were CATACLYSMS Varian. Realms shattered, gods fallen! COUNTLESS SOULS LOST TO OBLIVION, UNABLE TO EVER BE CLAIMED AGAIN!!"


    Drawing closer, Alastor''s infernal aura pulsated, his form ever-shifting between his elegant mask and monstrous nature, reflecting the internal conflict he felt. "Beyond whatever rift you make," he continued, eyes darkening, "would most likely not only be filled with realms of untapped potential but also abominations unknown even to us. Terrors that would make The Banished One seem like a mere petulant child. Do not let your avarice drive all to ruin, for even we Devils do not want to rule over rubble and wastelands!"


    A momentary flicker of doubt crossed Varian¡¯s eyes, but it vanished almost as quickly as it came as he defiantly held Alastor¡¯s gaze.


    Would he heed the devil''s warning, or would his ambition prove too overpowering?


    Varian cast a dismissive glance at the empty hourglass, his voice dripping with disdain. "Do you truly believe your fanciful tales of horror will deter me, Alastor? My empire is vast and my legions are unmatched. Whatever challenges or ''abominations'' lie beyond that rift, we are more than equipped to conquer."


    Alastor snarled, and his infernal form shuddered as a strange blend of anger and dread shook him. "Your arrogance blinds you to the peril you beckon!"


    But Varian''s face was a mask of unwavering resolve. "Your words are nothing more than the desperate cries of a fool who fears change. My ascent is inevitable, Devil." Turning towards the hourglass, Varian once more smiled as the final grains of sand finally sprinkled to the bottom of the hourglass.


    It was at this very moment that Alaster felt the boundaries of the mortal realm ripple and distort. A pulse of energy, like a stone cast into still waters, spread outward, ripping apart the foundational fabric of time and space.


    ¡°What have you done¡­?¡± the Devil whispered, his blazing gaze fixed on the now shimmering hourglass.


    Unbeknownst to Varian, the rift he had recklessly awakened went far beyond the edges of his comprehension; the shockwave from the rift reverberated, breaching through dimensions and tearing a gateway into another realm. And in Cambridge, Ohio, the early evening sky darkened.  Moments later it brightened again, as if a partial eclipse had momentarily clipped the setting sun.


    As the evening sky filled with radiant blue light ringed with sunset gold clouds, Bix, a scruffy, balding man with pale skin characteristic of his Appalachian roots drew a long and exaggerated snort before expelling a plug of spit onto the tall, waving grass.


    ¡°C¡¯mon Bix¡­ We just need a small dab of ice, a¡¯ight?¡± A long-haired, painfully bony man said as he stepped forward a bit. ¡°I knows yous got a little, so-¡±


    ¡°I ain''t give two SHITS what any y¡¯all peckerwoods need.¡± Bix snarled as a cluster of twitching and equally scruffy people stood outside his property line. ¡°I¡¯s has said, WE. AIN¡¯T. DONE. COOKIN¡¯. Now git before I put some buck in all y¡¯all!¡±


    Bix then pumped his shotgun, eliciting a clear and intimidating sound that echoed through the silence. He then pointed the weapon towards the group, making his threat all the more real. A yelp of fear broke from the crowd of people as they scurried away, knowing full well Bix was most likely not bluffing.


    Another glob of mucus hit the dirt as Bix threw his shotgun over his shoulder and turned around. He lumbered his way back towards the dilapidated structure he called home, grumbling to himself, "God damn junkies, can''t even wait a day to get they fix."


    Turning around, Bix looked at his home to see it was a sorry sight, a rundown, one-story shack that seemed to have lost its battle with time and weather. Its former whitewash had given way to grayish streaks, the paint chipping and peeling off in several places, revealing the worn-out wooden skeleton beneath.


    ¡°I aint got no patience to deal with this shit¡­¡± Bix complained as he yanked on the front door, causing it to groan under its own weight.


    Once inside, the interior was obsessively tidy compared to the house¡¯s derelict exterior; the floor and walls were lined with plastic sheets, neatly duct-taped at the corners. The air was pungent with the smell of chemicals, a stench that could burn nostrils and sting eyes.


    At the center of it all, standing amidst an assortment of makeshift chemistry equipment, was Beau, Bix''s younger brother. He was dressed in a hazmat suit, its bright new yellow standing in sharp contrast with the worn gray interior of the shack. His eyes, hidden behind the protective goggles, focused on the boiling flask before him.


    "Gettin'' close, Beau?" Bix asked, shutting the door behind him and stepping further into the room. ¡°God damn crackheads are already outside beggin¡¯ for-¡± Bix was cut off by a large concussive force that rattled everything in the house


    Beau was quick to react as his hand grabbed at the glass beakers and flasks to keep it all steady. ¡°What in the name of the LORD was that!?¡± The gas-masked brother shouted as he turned to Bix.


    ¡°It¡¯s the 4th, Beau.¡± Bix shrugged. ¡°You know how folks be ¡®round these parts, probably just some idjit," Bix finished nonchalantly, his gaze falling back on the desperate figures loitering at the boundary of their property. ¡°Anyways, how much longer ya got on the cookin¡¯?¡±


    "Another couple of hours, at least," Beau replied, still holding onto the flasks as his eyes darted anxiously between his work, making sure nothing was damaged. "The yield won''t be any good if I rush it, Bix."


    A disgruntled groan was released in response as Bix¡¯s gaze flicked back towards the rickety screen door. He was just about to dismiss his brother''s worries and go back to keeping watch when another explosion, this one much closer and much brighter, shook the ground beneath their feet.


    All the beakers and flasks rattled even more violently, but luckily Beau was fast enough to grab the more volatile and dangerous bit before it went crashing to the floor. Glass and lab equipment scattered all along the floor as Beau turned to his shotgun-wielding brother with the look of fury on his face.


    ¡°Bix! You best go out there and tell them god damn PECKERWOODS to stop and they owe us fuckin¡¯ MONEY or you better kill ¡®em!!¡± Beau shouted, his voice muffled by the gas mask and the reverberating rumbles that seemed to shake their entire world.


    Bix rolled his eyes and gave a disgruntled sigh. "Always the money with you, ain''t it Beau?" He threw his shotgun back over his shoulder before approaching the screen door. ¡°A¡¯ight, a¡¯ight. I¡¯ll go shoot some dipshits¡­¡± Bix grumbled as he shouldered open the door. About to step off the porch, he froze in confusion. The land on the horizon seemed¡­ somehow disjointed and warped and completely different. Where once there was the familiar Appalachian hill forest, now there stood a vast, flat expanse of land covered in strange vegetation unlike any he had seen before. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, wondering if he''d inhaled some spilled product.


    The landscape wasn''t the only thing that was off. A group of people, all strangers, stood just outside his property line. They were gesturing wildly and yelling in a language Bix couldn''t identify, and they looked about as confused as he felt.


    "What in the hell...?" He mumbled under his breath, taking a moment to reassess the situation.  He missed his step off the porch and stumbled into the long grass.  His first thought was these were most likely just some junkies, and he was most definitely high on a chemical leak. Shaking his head, Bix yelled at the strangers. "Hey! You! What the hell y¡¯all just do!?" He yelled, pointing his shotgun at the group.


    The strangers turned towards him, looking equally puzzled. They muttered amongst themselves in their strange language before one of them, a tall, thin man with, oddly enough, a full suit of metal armor, stepped forward.


    He began speaking, but the words were strange, foreign, nothing like the Appalachian drawl Bix was used to. Bix squinted at the man, annoyed at his lack of understanding, but then noticed the pointed ears of the person speaking and the folk around him. "I don''t know what the hell you''re saying, but y''all cosplayin¡¯ fucks owe us some goddamn money for whatever the hell y¡¯all just did! Ya understand!?" Bix demanded, but all he got were more confused looks.


    The figure in armor looked back at his colleagues and exchanged a few heated words before returning to Bix. Pulling out a sword, the pointed-eared individual and one of their companions started swinging their hands in the air, causing a small ball of ice or fire from their fingertips. The sight was utterly captivating but still completely out of Bix''s comprehension. He stood rooted in place with eyes wide in disbelief.


    ¡°Aw hell no, I must be high as a kite,¡± Bix said, pointing his shotgun at the armored fellow with ice forming on his fingertips and pulling the trigger.


    A deafening crack rang out, dropping one of the armored figures. Their companions however, immediately sprang into action. The nearest individual to the downed man started to drag their fallen comrade behind them as another group formed a defensive wall. Their arms rose in unison, presenting a shield wall while a brilliant, almost impenetrable energy barrier took form just before them.


    Behind this shield, the fire-casting man didn''t hesitate. His hand motions quickened, and his chanting much harsher while the fireball in their hand grew brighter and more prominent.


    Meanwhile, Beau shouted a string of profanities as he opened the screen door, ripping off his respirator and pointing directly at Bix. ¡°GODDAMNIT BIX! WHY¡¯D YA KILL SOMEONE HERE! NOW WE GOTTA- ¡­What the¡­?¡± Beau cut himself off as he stared at the strange sight in front of him. ¡°Bix what the hell is that?¡±


    ¡°I dunno Beau, I thought I was high, but it looks like the cosplayers are-¡± Bix was cut off by the fire-caster launching the fireball directly towards the two brothers, and in an instant, their world was engulfed in the searing heat and blinding light. The last thing they saw was their shanty house being consumed by the massive fireball.


    The crackling fire and screams faded, replaced by the steady hum of an aircraft engine.


    ¡°A la Verga¡­ What the hell are we getting ourselves into?¡± Corporal Luis Santiago, a Puerto Rican with a tanned complexion, complained as he turned his head to see his M2A4 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle chained to the cargo plane''s floor and sighed.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 2

    After Corporal Santiago¡¯s little outburst, no one in his platoon could even formulate anything resembling a reasonable answer. They all had the very same question as they sat there staring at their machines of war: rows of M2A4 Bradley Infantry vehicles locked and loaded ready for a combat drop.


    ¡°I mean, let¡¯s face it. It¡¯s aliens,¡± the Corporal and driver of one of the vehicles continued, turning his head to his Sergeant First Class (SFC). ¡°We¡¯re definitely being invaded by aliens.¡±


    Santiago¡¯s SFC vehicle commander, Erik Hofmann, let out a deep breath as his pale face reddened in irritation. Even though his Corporal made some good points, not even their commanding officers truly knew what the hell was happening. The only thing anyone knew what was happening was that there were attacks on the mainland and they all needed to dog pile into C17 Globe Masters with enough ammunition to level an entire city. ¡°Shut the fuck up Santiago,¡± Hofmann retorted, leaning back against the wall of the cargo plane.


    ¡°C¡¯mon LT, get my back here,¡± Santiago replied, unphased, as he looked to his platoon leader this time and gestured to the 3 Bradley IFVs. ¡°No one can just pop out of nowhere other than Aliens!¡± He yelled down the line at the Lieutenant, who seemed more exasperated than anything else.


    The Lieutenant was bumping his head against the wall in an effort to suppress his agitation with Santiago''s ridiculous harping over aliens. The man finally straightened up, his dark skin contrasting with the dim, metallic surroundings of the plane, and looked towards his Corporal. The deafening clangs of chains rang out as their aircraft hit a spot of turbulence, and everyone waited a beat until they could hear again.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that, Santiago¡­¡± Lieutenant Jayden DuPont replied in a monotone voice when it was once more down to merely a deafening roar. ¡°Now do what Hofmann told you to do and shut the fuck up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just sayin¡¯, sir," Santiago shrugged, leaning back in his own seat. ¡°They just popped out in the middle of nowhere and started blasting, you know?¡± The corporal¡¯s voice trailed off as he raised his hands like his favorite History Channel ¡®expert¡¯. ¡±Those little green pendejos? Or maybe the tall gray-¡±


    ¡°Santiago, if you don¡¯t shut the fuck up, I¡¯m gonna throw you out of the back of the goddamn plane.¡± Sergeant Daniel Kim, the Bradley¡¯s Korean-American gunner, growled in anger. ¡°Do yourself a favor and stop while you¡¯re ahead.¡±


    The Corporal put his hands up in surrender after receiving Kim¡¯s glare. "Alright, alright, I get it," Santiago said as he reclined in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. There was muffled laughter from a handful of the 40 men on board, but it was cut short by a harsh look from Kim.


    The cargo bay of the aircraft soon fell into silence, filled only by the droning hum of the turbofan engines and the occasional creaking of the 3 nearly 30 ton war machines crammed inside. Santiago looked up at Bradley as his face turned serious for a moment. The man¡¯s gaze drifted all across the features of the vehicle and noted that there were two live missiles stowed away and ready to be fired from the pylon on the side of the turret. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what exactly they were heading into. They were an armored unit, not an airborne one, so a combat drop wasn''t exactly standard procedure, at least not one that they were trained to do. But despite that, here they were.


    ¡°He has a point though¡­ What if it''s actually -¡± Private First class Lukas Kowalski suddenly broke the silence, but was immediately cut off.


    Lieutenant DuPont didn¡¯t even bother looking at the man when he barked out, ¡°Shut up, Private,¡± eliciting laughter throughout the cabins once again.


    Kowalski sank further into his seat, deciding that it was better to keep his thoughts to himself for now. "Roger that, sir," Kowalski responded, adjusting the rifle slung across his chest. His fingers grazed the cold metal of the firearm, tracing the edges as a strange comfort against the uncertainty that hung in the air.


    Hofmann ignored the tense, but still somewhat jovial atmosphere. The sergeant turned his gaze down the line and looked at the rest of the platoon. As the gears in his head turned, Santiago¡¯s words seemed to stick with him. As far as he was concerned there wasn¡¯t a single country on the planet that had the technology to materialize an invasion force in the middle of a landlocked country.


    Were they moving to put down an uprising?


    That wasn¡¯t right¡­ it would have been lit up all over social media or even the news long before things went hot. Plus this would be firmly in the national guards camp, not a heavily armored unit flying out of Texas¡­


    Seeing that they were the latest iteration of the heavily armored ¡°Penetration¡± division concept that the brass had slapped together, Hofmann surmised that this was probably a test of some sort. The 1st Cavalry Division had been redesigned to be the Army''s spearhead in any major conflict. Composed of advanced and heavily armored vehicles, along with specialized infantry units, Hofmann¡¯s division was created with the explicit goal of not only breaching enemy lines, but to keep going.


    The Platoon Sergeant gently slammed his head against the plane''s hull and closed his eyes to take a little catnap. There was no reason to mull over whatever the hell was going on, they were going to find out whether the Chinese had figured out to materialize out of thin air or if Santiago was right, and it was aliens after all.  However, Hofmann was soon interrupted by the sharp crackle of the plane''s intercom.


    "Brace for approach, we''re going into a tactical landing pattern, we¡¯re coming in hot." The pilot''s voice echoed through the cargo hold and the unexpected announcement sent an electric shock through the cabin.


    Tactical landing.


    They were going into a hot zone, and they were going in as fast as possible.


    DuPont''s gaze never wavered from Hofmann, even as the initial surprise began to settle into a grim understanding as they all snapped into work mode. "You heard the man!" Dupont shouted aggressively and called out to the rest of his soldiers, his voice carrying a calm, steady assurance that anchored the growing tension.


    "Secure your shit, strap in tight! This is going to be a rough descent," he ordered, moving to tighten his own harness. "We''re going in hot, so be ready to move and get the vehicles decoupled as soon as we touch down!"


    "Takashi, Cooper, Diego, Thornfield!" DuPont continued, his piercing gaze sweeping each NCO in turn. His voice cut through the noise of the humming engines, a steel blade of authority in the chaos. "Help Hofmann with decoupling his Bradley, we need him out of the way as soon as the bird touches down! Understood?" DuPont said while grabbing his rifle and racking the slide to and chambering a round.


    The soldiers snapped to attention, their bodies tense with the adrenaline of the impending drop. "Roger that, sir!" came the unanimous response, each man springing into action to follow their lieutenant''s command.


    Staff Sergeant Takashi, a quiet Japanese-American man, pointed to a few of his men and started issuing orders to prepare their own Bradley¡¯s for decoupling when they landed. Diego, Thornfield, and Cooper followed suit, each issuing orders and deciding which squad was going into whose Bradley.


    The roar of the engines and the whistling of the wind outside made it difficult for the soldiers to hear each other as the aircraft descended rapidly. It felt as if their stomachs had been left hanging thousands of feet above them, a sensation only worsened by the anticipation of the unknown.


    ¡°The fuck is going on sir¡­?¡± Santiago asked again, this time his voice barely audible over the noise. His knuckles were white from gripping the straps of his harness, his eyes wide as he looked to his lieutenant for answers. But DuPont, strapped into his own seat, gave nothing away. His gaze was fixed on the slowly approaching ground below them, a hardened expression set on his stoic face. He''d been in this kind of situation before, and he knew better than to make promises or assumptions.


    "I don''t know, Santiago," DuPont admitted, turning his gaze to the worried man. "But I¡¯m certain we¡¯re soon gonna find out. Now get your fuckin¡¯ helmet on."


    The rapid descent continued, the lights of the land below growing closer and more defined. No one said another word as they all recognized they weren¡¯t landing on an actual airstrip, but a small strip of grass used as a makeshift runway.


    The usually talkative Santiago swallowed hard and simply nodded, his fingers fumbling to strap his helmet onto his head. The normally lighthearted atmosphere of their unit had been replaced by somber tension, the men lost in their thoughts as they watched the landscape below approach with alarming speed.


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    As the soldiers held their collective breaths, the aircraft shuddered and jolted while the craft''s undercarriage screamed in protest as it made contact with the uneven ground. However, the pilot still skillfully decelerated while the transport bounced and shook as it barreled down the grassy field. Once the plane had ground to a halt, officers barked orders while the soldiers unbuckled themselves and went to work. They had half of the bindings chaining their vehicles off before the cargo bay doors touched the ground. The doors banged open, revealing a starlit night punctuated with intense gunfire and explosions echoing in the distance.


    The sudden sounds of conflict outside caught everyone off guard, momentarily freezing them in their tracks. The soldiers¡¯ heartbeats echoed in their ears, drowning out the distant sound of gunfire. The booming echo of an explosion somewhere off in the distance jolted them back into motion.


    "Move! Move! Move!" Lieutenant DuPont yelled, trying to reignite the sense of urgency among his men. ¡°Get this shit off the plane! Section two still has to land!¡±


    Remembering that the rest of their company was still in the air, the soldiers swiftly went back to work. The rumble of heavy diesel engines roared as the first large metal beasts roared to life as a new wave of soldiers started to flood in and assist in decoupling their vehicles. With the first Bradley free of its chains, the massive vehicle roared down the ramp, churning up dust and grass in its wake.


    The second Bradley roared past while Lieutenant DuPont walked down the ramp and shook hands with one of the men directing the vehicles down. ¡°1st Lieutenant DuPont.¡± He introduced himself, looking his contemporary up and down.  He took in the CCT patch on the other officer¡¯s chest, indicating he was an Airman belonging to the Air Force¡¯s famed and fabled Combat Controllers.


    "Technical Sergeant Anthony Pena," the airman introduced himself, returning DuPont''s firm handshake. ¡°I¡¯m sure you want to know what the fuck is going on, but to be honest you¡¯re better off seeing it for yourself.¡±  The CCT started walking, motioning for the Lieutenant to walk with him, before pointing south. The Lieutenant turned his head, following the gesture, his eyes narrowing at the mention of fighting. DuPont''s mind whirled with questions, but he managed to keep his composure, focusing on what the CCT was saying. ¡°We got everything from Special Forces and Rangers, to the National Guard out there fighting along the 77 on both sides of the road trying to get to Cambridge.¡°


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. What?¡± DuPont pressed his fingers against his eyebrows before glancing back at the cargo plane taxiing to take off. ¡°The 77? As in interstate 77? Sergeant Pena, what the fuck is happening?¡±


    "I¡¯d like an answer to that too, Lieutenant," Pena replied, his voice grim. "Something¡­ is attacking us." The CCT shook his head in disbelief. "We''ve got these... things. Creatures. They''re not from around here, that''s for sure. They hit us hard and fast, taking the town, killing civilians. The Rangers were the first to respond and now we''re all here, trying to hold them back."  Dupont noticed Pena''s voice had an edge to it, a certain tension that went beyond the normal stresses of combat. His eyes were steely, his jaw set.  "And before you ask, no one has the faintest clue. One minute, everything''s normal. The next... well, you¡¯ll see." Pena turned around towards the cargo plane as it was starting to take off. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t look like it belongs on this planet, shoot it. If it doesn¡¯t look right, shoot it. If it doesn¡¯t have an IR strobe, shoot it.¡± The CCT trailed off, his attention switching to the next cargo plane lining up to land on the temporary airstrip.  He raised his hand to his radio to communicate with the next landing cargo plane, tacitly dismissing the Lieutenant.


    DuPont stood there for a moment in complete and utter shock as he let the information sink in. ¡°Jesus¡­ Santiago was right¡­¡± He turned around and jogged to the lead Bradley, his mind racing with thoughts of preparation and action.


    "Fuck, Santiago was right!" DuPont shouted, as he climbed up the IFV¡¯s ramp and joined the rest of his troop.


    Sergeant First Class Hofmann, perched in the vehicle''s command seat, snapped his head around to face DuPont, his eyes wide and shocked. ¡°What??¡± Hofmann''s face contorted in disbelief. ¡°Santiago was what!?¡±


    A series of frustrated grunts resounded from DuPont as he struggled to fit himself into the only available seat. "The god damn corporal was right, we¡¯re being fucking attacked by aliens!" He replied hurriedly, shoving a soldier¡¯s M240 machine gun out of his way to make room for himself.  "We''ve got unidentified hostile¡­ somethings out there!¡±


    The Bradley¡¯s ramps finally started to lift, sealing the occupants inside the dimly lit interior of the IFV.  The vehicle filled with the dull resonant roar of its engine in operation, filling the oppressive silence left behind by DuPont''s revelation. The normal banter, the jokes, the sounds of soldiers preparing for a mission - it all felt muted. The gravity of the situation hit like a mortar, leaving the men dazed.


    Did humanity even stand a chance against a space-faring enemy attack?  Everyone in the unit had grown up playing video games or watching media about alien invasions, and their imaginations ran wild with what-if scenarios. The very idea that an extraterrestrial race had the capability to travel across the vast cosmos, reach Earth, and launch an assault was terrifying. Their technology, strategies, and physiology could be beyond comprehension.


    Santiago''s voice broke through the oppressive silence. "I always imagined it''d be like Mass Effect, you know? Cool weapons, shiny ships, maybe even a few good guy aliens on our side or something." He tried to laugh, but the sound died quickly and silence took hold of the Bradley once again as it rolled towards the road, grinding the grass beneath it to mud as it churned ahead.


    DuPont completely ignored the comment; he was busy accessing his End-User Device, a phone mounted to his chest. The man was doing his best trying to access the tactical map and other intel available via the digital interface. The device provided him with real-time updates from the higher command and fellow units, but all the responses he received right now were disorganized.  DuPont came to the conclusion that everything was a cluster fuck.


    "God damnit¡­¡± The Lieutenant muttered under his breath as they finally met the road. The officer was trying to figure out who to actually talk to amidst the random bursts of chatter that filled his ears. Everything was an absolute mess as distressed voices cried for help, harsh barks of commands or desperate attempts to rally scattered troops. The cacophony made it nearly impossible to discern if there was any kind of cohesive command and made it seem like they had just been dropped into a free-for-all.


    Hofmann opened his mouth, getting ready to chime in on Santiago¡¯s joke, but just as the words were about to leave his mouth, something surreal passed in front of his commander''s screen. Just 200 meters away, several soldiers with Infrared strobes on their heads sprinted out of the treeline in a mad dash to the other side. He initially thought they were just breaking contact or trying to get past the other side, but he soon realized they were running away from something.


    ¡°GUNNER!!¡± Hofmann yelled desperately as an enormous armored beast, rivaling the Bradley in size, burst through the forest edge and onto the asphalt.


    The damned thing had an eerie resemblance to a wingless bipedal dragon, and its massive claws scraped and sparked against the road¡¯s surface.  It skidded out on the asphalt like a dog hitting a polished wooden floor at a dead run.  It was a ridiculous, awesome vision right out of a fantasy story. Its muscular body was covered in dark scales that seemed to both reflect and absorb the ambient light, casting eerie shadows around it. Powerful, clawed limbs dug into the road as it righted itself, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth in a maw that seemed to stretch endlessly. The beast''s eyes, a fiery orange, scanned the area hungrily.


    With a predatory speed that defied its size, it immediately surged forward again, giving chase to the fleeing soldiers. The raw power of the creature was terrifying; each bound it took covered an alarming distance.


    ¡°TRACKING!!¡± The gunner, Sergeant Kim, screamed in response, quickly getting a bead on the creature.


    POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF POMPF


    The Bradley''s 25mm Bushmaster chain gun roared into action as Kim unleashed a rapid barrage at the behemoth lizard. Each High Explosive (HE) round struck true, causing the creature to falter momentarily with every small explosion against its thick scales. Yet, the monster''s resilience was astounding; while a few hits did cause visible wounds around softer and fleshier area¡¯s, the barrage was far from enough to bring the creature to a halt.


    The beast in turn, shifted its now furious gaze towards the Bradley, its eyes glinting with malevolent intelligence. Muscles rippled beneath its armored hide as it repositioned itself, sizing up the armored vehicle as its new primary threat. Abruptly, the creature let out a deafening roar that echoed across the battlefield, sending an involuntary chill down the spines of every soldier in the vicinity. The sheer power and volume of the sound caused the Bradley''s hull to vibrate.


    "ARMOR PIERCING!! FUCKING USE AP!!" Hofmann shouted as he saw the thing sprint towards them at a mind boggling speed.


    Sergeant Kim reacted instantly, switching ammunition. "Loading AP!" He called back, his voice desperate. Just as a mechanical clunk signified the switch in the chamber, the sergeant held down on the trigger once more, and the Bradley''s chain gun released another furious volley. Each shot struck with a more noticeable effect than before; the rounds found their mark, digging into the thick hide of the creature.  A series of high-pitched metallic pings could be heard as the AP rounds made contact, some ricocheting off, but several penetrating deep into the monster''s tough exterior. Dark, viscous fluid, reminiscent of blood but with an odd luminescent quality, spewed out from the beast, painting the asphalt as it crumbled to the ground, slamming into the IFV before sending it rocking back.


    The force of the impact knocked several of the crew off their seats, and the Bradley was sent screeching back several feet. Hofmann was momentarily dazed, his vision blurred, and his ears rang from the brutal collision.


    "Out! Out, now! Everyone dismount!" DuPont yelled, his voice filled with urgency, grabbing hold of the lever to lower the Bradley¡¯s ramp and pushing it with all his might. With a mechanical hiss, the ramp slowly began to descend, revealing the hazy outside atmosphere.


    The infantry inside of the uncomfortably cramped vehicle scrambled out, some on their feet, others rolling out. Even as the infantry did their best to shake off the dizziness from the impact, the sound of the 25mm Bushmaster cannon continued to roar, engaging other targets down the road. By this time the second and third Bradley in their little convoy had also come to a halt, forming a makeshift defensive line alongside the main road. A cacophony of fire roared from each vehicle as soldiers poured out of their respected vehicles and made a beeline to the tree line and out of the open with the world around them turning into a blur of pure chaos.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 3

    Lieutenant DuPont was among the first of his platoon to make it to the tree line with the rest of his men close behind. As he darted past the first tree, he collided with something solid yet slightly squishy and was sent tumbling to the floor.


    Recoiling, the Lieutenant looked up to see what he had hit and found himself facing a small humanoid-like creature that looked to only be as tall as his chest. Its large yellow eyes blinked in surprise and a  long reptilian snout, somewhat akin to a dinosaur, jutted out, with a row of small, pointed teeth visible even when its mouth was closed. It had a sleek, lithe body, shimmering with a deep blue hue where the light struck, and covered entirely in those same black, protective scales. Thin, almost frail-looking limbs ended in clawed hands and feet, giving it an appearance both delicate and deadly.


    DuPont and the creature locked eyes for a brief moment, unable to register each other''s existence when one of the Lieutenants'' men screamed out in a panic. ¡°CONTACT! CONTACT!¡±  Almost immediately, the  forest was flooded with the cacophony of gunfire with bullets whizzing by, tearing into trees, underbrush and creatures that seemed to surround them.


    It only took a fraction of a second for DuPont to shove his own weapon into the small monster''s face and pull the trigger. A series bang echoed adding into the flurry of gunfire as the creature''s head rocked back before it went limp.


    ¡°Check your fire! Check your fucking fire, god damnit!!¡± Lieutenant DuPont barked trying to regain some semblance of control of his squad while pushing the lifeless creature off of him and regaining his footing as his heart raced wildly. Taking a brief glimpse at the fallen creature, the man couldn¡¯t help but widen his eyes in disbelief, but as he surveyed the chaos around him, the feeling only intensified. All around, his squad battled identical monstrous reptiles, desperately trying to keep them at bay.


    The situation only took a turn for the better when the rest of his platoon entered the forest, laying waste to the creatures with a well-coordinated onslaught of gunfire. Whatever small monster that wasn¡¯t cut down, quickly fled, disappearing into the dense underbrush and shadows of the trees.


    DuPont did his best to take stock of the situation around him as he peered down at his chest mounted phone.The tactical battle map that was supposed to track friendly units and mark enemy positions was of absolutely no use. From the looks of things they were in an outright cluster fuck with both friend and enemy units mixed together all over the place. And it didn¡¯t help that the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed in every direction leaving them disoriented and directionless.


    ¡°W-what do we do now, sir?¡± Staff Sergeant Takashi asked as he approached, stepping over and staring at the humanoid reptile bleeding out on the ground. His eyes were wide with confusion and fear as looked at his platoon leader for guidance.


    The Lieutenant bit back a sardonic chuckle as he wiped the reptilian blood from his face. Looking over his men and back at his Staff Sergeant, a single thought echoed in his mind: that was a good fucking question.


    More deafening thumps echoed throughout the forest as the Bradley IFVs on the road main guns erupted again, sending a volley of shells towards enemy concentrations and more large monsters. Popping his head out of the tree line, DuPont watched as the rounds shattered the bodies of both the smaller reptile and more humanized figures.


    ¡°Takashi, take your squad and cross to the other side of the road! ¡± DuPont started barking orders as he darted back into the cover of the trees. "Don¡¯t let our Bradley¡¯s get flanked!"


    Staff Sergeant Takashi nodded and immediately sprung to action, pressing down on his push to talk and relaying orders, "2-3 on me!¡± The man yelled as he and a large swath of men darted out of the tree line.


    DuPont looked at Staff Sergeant Cooper and issued another set of orders. ¡°Cooper, you¡¯re taking this flank, I¡¯m taking 2-1 to provide close-in security for the Bbradleys. Make sure any of the squirmy fucks don¡¯t flank us, copy?¡±


    Cooper shot DuPont a curt nod of understanding  and shot up to do as he was instructed. "Roger, sir. 2-2, get you heard ¡®em, get your asses moving and fan out!" he shouted to the men nearby, waving his hand for them to disperse.


    As Dupont¡¯s orders were rapidly executed, he rallied his squad and sprinted towards the IFVs. In the midst of the storm of gunfire and explosions, DuPont experienced a strange sense of stillness. He shook his head slightly, attempting to clear the fog of uncertainty. The unfamiliar terrain, the bizarre creatures, and the blurring line between friend and foe¡­ none of them had trained for anything like this, but then again, the military was notorious for putting their men into positions they didn¡¯t train for.


    They just had to roll with it and make it up as they went.


    ¡°Gunner, Traverse right 20 degrees! 150 meters, enemy out in the open!¡± Hofmann shouted as he stared at another large group of small¡­ humanoid reptiles popped out of the forest. ¡°Light ¡®em up¡±


    A metallic thunk resounded as Sergeant Kim, the gunner switched the ammo from Armored Piercing to High Explosive and adjusted the turret accordingly. ¡°On the way!¡± He shouted back, pressing down the trigger and causing the vehicle to rock as the 25mm cannon came to life.


    With the platoon''s fourth Bradley catching up, the vehicles unleashed fury, their shells screamed through the air before ripping and tearing through the invaders. The resulting carnage threw the surviving reptilian creatures into panic, scattering them in every direction.


    As the strange monster lay dead or dying, Hofmann kept a vigilant watch over the thermal readings on his command screen, searching for any lingering threat. Yet, the only signatures that dominated his display were the vivid bursts of distant explosions, and a vast expanse of fire consuming the landscape. Towering smoke columns rose, casting a haunting silhouette against the backdrop of the continental United States causing Hofmann¡¯s stomach to drop.


    But the Sergeant First Class didn¡¯t have time to dwell on the grim scene. There was still work to be done and aliens to kill. The immediate threat might have been neutralized, but the radio chatter indicated that this battle was far from over.


    ¡°Wrecker 1, this is Bravo 2 Actual, Interrogative!¡± The sound of DuPont¡¯s voice crackled over the radio with the sounds of gunfire in the background. ¡°Is your Bradley still operational?¡±


    "Roger that, Lieutenant," Hofmann responded crisply. "We¡¯re she''s a bit dented but she''s still roaring."


    "Good to hear, Wrecker 1," DuPont''s voice came back, a hint of relief audible even through the static. "Alright, I got a hold of something resembling command, I need you and your boys to push forward slowly. They¡¯re a bit further up ahead, cut off and surrounded.


    Hofmann tightened his grip on his commander''s hand station as he scanned the area around them. ¡°Copy, Bravo 2 Actual. Any intel on what we¡¯re walking into?¡±


    ¡°Negative Wrecker 1,¡± DuPont immediately shot him down. ¡°The only thing I know is that everythings fucked and there¡¯s shit everywhere. Now start moving, Out.¡±


    And with that, the squad radio went silent and the chaos of the battlefield took its place.


    With a deep exhale, Sergeant First Class did his best to clear his head and steel his nerves. "Alright, you heard the man," Hofmann began, addressing his crew inside before pressing the push to talk to the rest of the Bradleys under his command, ¡°This is Wrecker one to all vehicles, we¡¯re going to start pushing forward, slow and steady. Stay alert, maintain a line and don''t crunch any of our boys. They¡¯re using us as cover."


    The driver, Corporal Santiago, let out a deep sigh as he adjusted himself in the forward most compartment. ¡°We¡¯re all going to fuckin¡¯ die..."


    ¡°More like you¡¯re going to fucking die, Santiago.¡± Sergeant Kim chimed in, a smirk evident in his voice, "Your dumb ass jinxed it and so you¡¯re the one that¡¯s going to pay." He continued to tease as the Bradley lurched forward, its powerful engine growling and tracks churning the dirt beneath.


    ¡°Hey, fuck you pendejo.¡± Santiago shot back as he turned to avoid the strange, but dead tank sized dragon in the middle of the road.


    The other Bradleys in formation followed suit, maintaining a spaced, but uniform wall of metal as they advanced up the road. Each of their turrets were pointed in different directions, maintaining 360 degree security amidst the uncertain landscape.


    As the soldiers trailed behind them, the platoon slowly crept forward and once they finally passed the bend, a scene of destruction awaited them. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of molten metal and burnt flesh almost overpowering. The once busy interstate that should have been filled with commuters and families traveling was now an apocalyptic wasteland. Bodies belonging to both humans and these strange aliens were strewn across the roadway in a macabre and chaotic jumble. Cars and armored vehicles of all types had their metal frames twisted and contorted from the intense heat and explosive force.


    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Kim cursed as he used the gunner''s sight to take in the full scene. ¡°What the hell is even happening?¡±


    "First contact," Santiago replied grimly. "And it didn''t go well."


    The platoon maneuvered past the charred remnants of a Bradley, its front appearing as though it had been subjected to an intense, searing heat that caused it to melt and cave inwards abruptly.


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    Popping open the Commanders hatch, Hofmann pulled himself out to get a closer look at the destroyed vehicle and furrowed his brow. ¡°God damn¡­¡± He said he watched a few soldiers from his platoon peer inside the back.


    However, the men immediately recoiled away from the wreck, shaking their heads in a disgusted manner, almost as if they''d just seen absolutely horrible. ¡°Yep, no one survived that shit¡­¡± One of the men said, stepping over a still red hot glob of molten metal.


    Hofmann, drawing a deep breath against the acrid smell of burnt metal and rubber, scowled and retreated back into the confines of his vehicle. The man shook his head, attempting to dislodge the visceral images for his mind''s eye. ¡°Keep your eyes open and TOWs ready, I don¡¯t want to let whatever happened to them happen to us.," The Sergeant First Class commanded with a voice that held a trace of uncharacteristic tremor.


    A series of affirmations from each of his subordinate Bradleys resounded over the radio as they slowly maneuvered  through the still burning hellscape. Even though the sounds of roaring battles still raged on in every direction, the men of Bravo Company, 2nd Platoon advanced towards the very heart of it where it was the most intense.


    Peering around at the destruction, the Lieutenant couldn¡¯t help but wonder where in the hell was their air power. The fact that they weren¡¯t all already dead meant that the invaders haven¡¯t gained air superiority. By all accounts, the United States Air Force should have thrown everything they had, including the kitchen sink at these creatures. Yet, the vast majority of distant booms didn''t quite add up. This wasn¡¯t the sound of artillery and DuPont so no obvious signs of bombardment.


    Something was different.


    That''s when it clicked. The source of the cacophony wasn''t just from the ground. Instinctively, DuPont looked up and what he saw left him utterly speechless.


    The sky, normally a haven for human airpower, was now a battlefield of its own. An array of dragon-like creatures, some as large as the vehicles he commanded, others dwarfing even the largest planes he''d ever seen¡ªwere clashing and diving among the clouds. Fiery breath met icy blasts in mid-air, resulting in explosions that made the ground battles look like minor skirmishes. What took him completely off guard were the projectiles, missiles from unseen SAM sites and fighter jets, zigzagging between these creatures, trying to find a mark and keep their distance at the same time.


    It had seemed DuPont had been unfair. The Air Force was indeed in play and they were struggling just as much as he was. And with that thought, a giant explosion lit up the night sky after one jet strayed too close to a dragon and paid dearly for it.


    ¡°The damned things are intercepting our missiles by¡­ Breathing fucking flames¡­?¡± The Lieutenant said dumbfoundedly.


    The rest of his squad gave him an odd look before they too turned their vision skyward, their expressions shifting from initial disbelief to mounting horror.


    The sheer magnitude of the chaos unfolding overhead was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. Sleek, state-of-the-art jets, designed with the latest stealth and maneuverability features, were struggling against these flying behemoths. A reasonably massive volley of missiles were launched simultaneously, only with most of them to be met with searing flames or a chilling blast of ice. The dragons, for all their mythical reputation, showcased an uncanny knack for intercepting advanced human weaponry.


    Only a handful of missiles managed to breach the aerial defenses of these damned creatures, but their impact varied GREATLY. While the colossal creatures remained unscathed, their smaller counterparts weren''t as fortunate. The mid-sized dragons were only momentarily stunned, briefly plummeting for several seconds before regaining their composure and flight. In contrast, the smaller, car-sized dragons were devastatingly affected, erupting in a gruesome spectacle that showered the air with debris and gore.


    Lieutenant DuPont had seen a lot of shit during his time in the army, both as an enlisted man and an officer, but never in his years had he seen a spectacle quite like this. These¡­ dragons were once confined to fairy tales and epic poems, but now they seemed to dominate the airspace with unparalleled agility and ferocity. It was a scene stranger than that of a fantasy novel, yet the grim reality of it was inescapable.


    ¡°What was the saying¡­?¡± DuPont said as he shook his head again and marched onward. ¡°The only difference between fiction and reality is that fiction has to make sense?¡± He finished, motioning his men to keep moving and to catch up with the Bradleys.


    ¡°Hurry up, we can gawk when we¡¯re dead.¡± The Lieutenant barked, not wanting to lose focus on the mission. They were still in the midst of a battle, after all, and the enemy on the ground hadn''t paused just because the skies were alive with a new kind of warfare.


    One of DuPont¡¯s men, a Private Schwarez, always quick with a retort, replied, "Sir, I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re not gonna see shit when we¡¯re dead." He secured his helmet tighter as he jogged to close the gap between him and the Bradley vehicles.


    ¡°Shut the fuck up, Schwarez.¡± The Lieutenant responded in a monotone voice as he shook his head.


    The unit pressed forward, they reached another bend where the sounds of battle were even more palpable. The distant roar of dragons and the scream of jets was replaced by the more immediate staccato of gunfire, shouts, and the ominous thuds of explosions.


    As they cleared the bend, every soldier once again stood absolutely frozen in place, their training and instincts momentarily overridden by sheer astonishment. Not fifty meters ahead, a massive wingless dragon-like creature, unlike any they had seen thus far, towered over the treeline, staring angrily at the forest. Standing on four powerful legs, its body covered in gleaming obsidian scales, the creature''s large horn cover head rocked back as its mouth started to glow as if it was trying to swallow molten metal.


    Suddenly three explosions, one after another rocked the beast as it stumbled back, accidentally breathing its molten slag on friendly forces just below it. A horde of those small reptile-like creatures and other, even larger humanoids of varying shapes and sizes, screamed in agony as they were scorched by the very creature that they had been supporting.


    And from the shadows, rocket¡¯s and machine gun fire darted out with a hissing fury, striking both the larger beasts and any armored humanoid creatures that dared to remain standing. The iconic chops of M2 Browning .50 cal machine guns added to the thunderous battlefield chorus, their bullets tearing into everything, cutting down the invaders as they tried to recover from the bout of friendly fire.


    ¡°TOW! ALL UNITS, TOW IT! TOW IT, NOW!!¡± Hofmann shouted into the intercom system, eyes locked onto the massive creature that was causing so much devastation. ¡°GUNNER!¡±


    Gunner Sgt. Kim  responded immediately, the whirring of the Bradley''s TOW Anti-Tank Guided Missile system to life as its missile launcher popped out of its housing. ¡°Tracking!¡± he shouted back, the sophisticated optics lining up the enormous creature in its crosshairs. ¡°On the way!¡±


    Several deafening hisses resounded as each and every Bradley launched their TOW missiles in rapid succession. Trails of smoke and fire crisscrossed the battlefield as they honed in on the towering beast.


    Four deafening explosions resounded as the gargantuan beast screamed in pain, thrashing wildly in its torment. Its massive clawed limbs crushed everything in its path, inadvertently squashing scores of its own allies beneath its bulk. The smaller reptilian creatures scurried in panic, only to be caught under the colossal foot of the creature or thrown away by its tail''s violent swipes. The larger humanoid allies, trying to assist the wounded beast, became collateral casualties as they were either trampled or smashed by its uncontrollable movements.


    Then came the second volley from the treeline. The explosions were much smaller in comparison, reminiscent of shoulder fired weapons, but their precision was uncanny. Each missile struck the beast''s softer underbelly, causing it to howl in even greater pain.


    And then came another volley of missiles from the Bradley¡¯s, their warheads leaving trails of white smoke against the darkening sky. Four more devastating explosions rippled through the air, some hitting the monster directly in the head, causing it to go limp and collapse onto the ground with a ground-shaking thud. Dust and debris flew up, creating a momentary smokescreen, obscuring the aftermath of their assault.


    ¡°LIGHT ¡®EM THE FUCK UP!¡± DuPont¡¯s voice echoed over the radio as a hurricane of gunfire erupted from the Bradleys, coupled with both the rapid chatter of machine guns and rifles from the infantrymen. The smaller creatures and humanoid allies, which previously swarmed in support of the massive creature, now found themselves exposed and on the receiving end of a well-coordinated hailstorm of lead.


    In desperation, the car sized monsters the platoon had faced before did their best to try and close the distance, but each step they took was met with relentless firepower, cutting them down with ruthless precision. Again some of the shells from the Bradley''s main cannon bounced off of them, but most of the armor piercing rounds ripped into the beasts, spraying the asphalt with their blood.


    The battle-scarred terrain transformed into a grim mosaic of fallen beings as the remnants of the once fearsome creatures attempted a frantic retreat. Yet, fate was a cruel mistress. Their avenues of escape were swiftly shut down by the unyielding hail of gunfire from the treeline, tearing into those who dared to flee, leaving none standing.


    Innumerable streaks of burning red lines barked out of the tree line ripping through creatures causing them to collapse. It was clear that this particular spot had been prepared well in advance for such an onslaught and these monsters were caught in a classic L shaped ambush.


    ¡°Cease fire!¡± Dupont shouted, waving his hand as he walked amongst his troops. ¡°Cease fire! Save your ammo!¡±


    As the gunfire began to peter out, the eerie post-battle silence descended. Only the distant screams of the wounded creatures and the crackles of distant battles filled the air. Walking out of the tree line were a mass of figures clad in the very same camouflaged uniforms as DuPonts. The soldiers'' weapons lowered, but they were  still alert as they slowly walked towards the carnage, ending any alien that made the mistake of still being alive.


    ¡°Must be the National Guard.¡± One of DuPont¡¯s men said after seeing the sorry state of their gear.


    ¡°Yeah, probably.¡± Another responded, eyeing the mismatching gear and faded equipment that the new group of soldiers wore. "But they held their own, I''ll give ''em that. Come on, let''s meet the Nasty Girls." DuPont motioned for his men to approach the battered defenders.


    DuPont made it a point to keep a couple of the Bradley behind in a supporting position as they approached the National Guard soldiers. His tactical instincts never took a backseat, even during moments like this, it was always best to leave a supporting element in place in case of a counter attack.


    ¡°Man, we owe you one.¡± One of the defenders laughed, walking towards the Lieutenant , his face smudged with soot and grime. ¡°Didn¡¯t think we¡¯d see the cavalry coming our way. Captain Duggen.¡± The man introduced himself and extended a dirty, gloved hand towards DuPont.


    With a nod, Dupont returned his handshake with a firm grip. ¡°Lieutenant DuPont. And trust me, it wasn¡¯t a one-way street. You guys gave us the window we needed.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t do shit, they did.¡± The Captain said, pointing at the tree line.¡±


    Following Captain Duggen''s gesture, DuPont''s gaze landed on a group of extremely well-equipped figures. Two held Carl Gustavs, shoulder-launched weapons designed for armored targets. Their advanced helmets, fitted with night vision, tactical lights, and state-of-the-art comms, gave them an ethereal quality. This customized theme continued with their modular vests, filled with meticulously organized gear ranging from specialized electronics to ornate knives, and in their hands were customized guns with higher end optics.


    But most surprising was the fact that most of them wore beards.


    ¡°Hey, Eli!¡± One of the operators said, nudging another. ¡°Go see what the dude wants, he''s pointing at us.¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 4

    Beyond the violent and chaotic battle on the other side of the rift, a magnificent and enormous Sovereign, a type of Celestial Dragon, unfolded its golden feathered wings that cast its intimidating shadow over the luxurious enclave it had claimed as its resting ground.


    The expeditionary forces of the Empire had spared no expense and no effort in constructing its vast sanctuary, which contrasted greatly with the utilitarian tents surrounding it. Not only were the massive pillows the being was laying on embroidered with the finest threads the mortal realms could offer, but they also rested upon expansive padded ground mattresses that were requisitioned from the army proper.  With this particular patch of the military encampment transformed, the Sovereign found itself as satisfied as a great being like itself could be with its new haven.


    At least, that was until some petulant mortal disturbed their slumber.


    Before the creature of legend, a Dragonborn General covered in a cascade of dark, iridescent feathers knelt before them in fervent reverence. The Celestial Dragon¡¯s grand form dwarfed the General¡¯s proud frame as he prostrated himself.


    The General in question immediately brought his to the ground as the hateful eyes of the ancient creature tried to bore a hole in his head, furious at how such a lowly being could fathom interrupting their leisure time.


    "Korthax," the dragon earth-shaking voice sounded almost like a symphony of thunderous clouds and flowing rivers, "I am assuming you have come to me with words of victory and conquest." The Sovereign asked, narrowing its radiant eyes.


    But instead of the answer it expected, the atmosphere hung heavy as silence reigned. Korthax had been a warrior of unparalleled might amongst his peers and heralded as a genius strategist. Yet, the man found himself kneeling and shaking like a leaf as the Sovereign¡¯s glare grew increasingly hostile.


    "... No, my sovereign," Korthax finally managed to utter, his once confident and commanding voice falling flat and turning more into a mewl. The General¡¯s eyes were a whirlpool of conflicted emotions. Shame because of his failure, humiliation in failing to assess the threat, and unmitigated fear as he met those burning golden eyes that seemed to want to disintegrate him right then and there. "This realm''s dwellers have... a resilience we did not anticipate."


    The colossal being let out a loud and irritated huff as they leaned forward, creating a majestic and intimidating canopy over Korthax. "Speak, you unsightly cur! And let not your words falter, for your failure as general on the battlefield is mirrored tenfold in your cowardice now!" the Sovereign¡¯s booming voice echoed throughout the enclave, causing the ground to shake as their eyes bore into Korthax.


    The fiery orbs seemed to pierce into the very core of Korthax¡¯s being, seeking to ignite a flame where now only smoldered ashes of doubt. He could feel every vertebra in his spine crystallizing with an age-old and primal dread birthed from the legends of yore.


    "Their constructs might even make the green-flamed furnaces of the stalwart mountain-born. dwarves flicker with envy!" Korrthax blurted out hastily, his voice fluctuating between desperation and awe. "M-Metal beasts at their command, crawling through their lands while exhaling fire and devastation with unyielding exactness and -"


    "Inane ramblings and craven justifications!" With the fury of a thousand storms, a snarl interrupted the poor general as he quaked where he knelt.


    The Sovereign vast wings unfurled menacingly, a living tapestry of golden hues engulfing the twilight, usurping the gentle warmth with impending darkness that echoed its fury. "You kneel before me spewing these infantile fairy tales, Korthax!¡± Flames shot from the Celestial Dragon¡¯s nostrils as the being bared its teeth. ¡°Daring to tell of mechanical beasts roaming the lands, yet you control the skies with legions of my scaled kin!" The Sovereign sneered.


    Korthax''s whole being trembled like a fragile leaf before a hurricane as his gaze remained fixed on the ground in deferment. Yet, within him, a fraction of the courage he once held remained as he opened his mouth to speak the truth. "M-my¡­ My Sovereign, it is with a heavy heart that I admit t-that we have not taken control of the skies," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.


    He inhaled as if gathering the remains of his shattered resolve before speaking again, "There is an omnipresent force, a pervasive gaze that finds all wherever they soar. It''s as if¡­" Korthax paused as he gulped heavily, knowing his very life hinged on the whims of the ancient and whimsical entity before him. "It''s as if¡­ there''s an all-seeing eye, watching everyone and everything."


    "Our Dragons, our Wyrms, and even the Wyverns feel a prickling, unsettling itch that claws at their skin and senses," The General elaborated further with an almost incredulous look on his face. He couldn¡¯t even believe his own words as they left his mouth.


    The dragon''s immense nostrils flared again, shooting flames as high as the ceiling as he listened to Korthax''s faltering words. An unbearable heat emanated from the Sovereign''s mouth as it moved its head closer. Its mouth opened slightly, promising a terryging inferno.


    "An all-seeing eye?" An amalgamation of simmering and cracking plasma bubbled within the Dragon¡¯s mouth as it spoke. "Do you take me for a fool? Do you expect me to swallow tales spun from your maddened mind, Korthax? You come here filled with stories of ghosts haunting the sky, believing I would heed such childish ravings?" Burgeoning rage filled the ancient being''s voice.


    Then, after a few moments of silence, The Sovereign raised their massive arm and unfurled a single taloned finger before deliberately pointing it directly at Korthax. "Hear me well, Korthax," The Dragon''s eyes looked as if they were a portal to the infernal realm as they regarded the small, prostrating Dragonkin.


    "I, the Grand Relor, Sovereign of the Empire, Servant of Emperor Varian, shall grant you the benefit of the doubt.¡± He said, rearing his head back and looking down at Korthax in disgust. ¡°You shall get a sliver of my trust, a fragment of belief in your frantic utterances. I will Seek out these phantoms you speak of myself and see your ineptitude with my own eyes."


    Relor¡¯s face drew closer until Korthax could feel the searing heat of the dragon''s breath, a furnace threatening to consume him in its fiery depths. "But know this, you pitiful shard of a once great lineage, if I find but a trace of deception in your words, a hint of delusion or incompetence..." The dragon''s voice dropped to a growl, reverberating through Korthax''s bones.


    "I shall extend your life and set ablaze the very flesh that clings to your pitiful frame. I shall render your skin a canvas of agony and ruin. And you shall serve as a living testament to the price of falsehood and cowardice, a beacon of suffering for all to witness." The Sovereign''s voice was a cataclysm, an apocalyptic that was less of a threat and more of a promise.


    A moment hung between the two as Korthax took in the Sovereign''s words. The sense of impending doom wasn¡¯t the right combination of words to describe how the General felt. And if he was honest with himself, he didn¡¯t think he knew if any words in any language existed to describe how one would feel with the promise of eternal torment hanging over them. Because he knew he was fully capable of doing just that.


    "May the gods and Emperor have mercy upon your soul, Korthax, for I shall grant you none if your words prove empty," The unimaginably large Dragon decreed as its giant wings began to unfurl, expanding like the very heavens stretching to the very edges of the enclave.


    With one ferocious downbeat, the Sovereign launched itself upwards, sending a vortex through the haven, turning it into a whirlwind of chaos. The roof of the enclave shattered and fragmented immediately under the sheer might of the Sovereign''s ascent.


    Catching the brunt of the gust, Korthax found himself head over heels, tossed about like a leaf in a storm before he careened straight out of the large ornate doors. His form finally came to a halt, just outside the Celestial Dragon¡¯s sanctuary and into the camp proper.


    After getting his bearing, the General stood up, dusted himself off, and looked skywards as he tried to shake off the dizziness. It didn¡¯t take him long to refocus his eyes and see the Sovereign¡¯s silhouette glowing radiantly from the sun¡¯s reflected light as it shot toward the ominous rift on The horizon. The behemoth surged forward with a speed that defied its sheer size, each powerful beat of its wings propelling it faster, leaving a trail of scorching gold in its wake.


    The tear in the fabric of reality itself was even more majestic as it played tricks on one¡¯s eyes. At a glance, the two realms looked as if a tailor had seamlessly stitched them together. From one angle, the world presented its regular, sun-lit panorama, the familiar canvas of mountains and sky that Korthax had always known. Yet, barely a breath away, the other side of the rift bore the darkness of night, dotted with alien constellations that gleamed with an uncanny luminescence.


    And as the Relor surged into that alien world, the ancient Celestial Dragon felt a pulse reverberating through the fabric of his ethereal being. This disturbance echoed within his very core. It was a sensation unlike any it had felt before, akin to an infinite amount of tiny pricks and prods stabbing the sinews of his anatomy.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Relor''s nerves twitched with acute awareness, consciousness that the sky was no longer a sanctuary of open space and freedom. Each beat of his majestic wings seemed to stir the unseen forces following him everywhere. Relor could feel the whispers of this ''all-seeing-eye'' brushing against its feathers. It was an insidious caress that sought to feel every inch of his being.


    "My Sovereign!" A fearful cry suddenly punctuated the air.


    Caught by surprise, Relor turned to see it was one of the Scaled Dragon thralls that bore the mark of subjugation and service. They were still a minor entity compared to the gargantuan Relor but were still formidable and capable of laying waste to armies or cities.


    The scaled dragon spiraled upwards, its scales reflecting an array of twilight hues as it approached Relor with a frantic urgency. "You mustn''t venture closer, mighty one! The mortals of the realm become stronger the further you venture from the rift! They see everything, feel everything!" Its voice started to break as it spoke in panic.


    Stopping mid-flight, Relor turned his  formidable gaze and locked eyes with the Scaled Thrall. He couldn¡¯t believe a veritable slave would address him so flippantly. Glaring harshly at the offender, Relor decided to punish this one later for it¡¯s insolence. For now, they were on a battlefield.


    "Why should the dragons fear the mortals?" Relor''s voice thundered, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Since the dawn of time, we''ve soared the skies unchallenged. What strength do those beyond the rift possess?"


    "They have woven a net across the sky, a net of metal and fire! It... it can see us, track us, hunt us," the smaller dragon stammered, but its voice gaining strength as he continued. "Their metal beasts roar with a fury that rivals the greatest storms, spitting deadly darts that pierce the scales and flesh of even the Wyrms!"


    Relor''s eyes were ablaze with a stubborn fire as it flicked around the battlespace with intense curiosity. The enormous feather dragon opened its mouth to reply but was suddenly interrupted as he felt a new and much more uncomfortable sensation.


    Caught guard, Relor shifted in discomfort as dozens of significantly more focused... ''eyes'' seemed to bore into his very soul. An electric crackle tinged the air, and the atmosphere grew thick with an unknown and alarming pulsating frequency. Every Dragon that littered the sky snapped their heads in different directions as their keen senses zeroed in on different sources of the concentrated intrusion.


    Eyes widened, pupils dilated as their flight or fight response kicked in. It was apparent the strange sensation was just the prelude to those rumored lethal darts loosed by those metal beasts that were rumored to come.


    Another, even smaller dragon''s voice roared in an attempt to spur Relor into action. "My liege, we cannot remain here! Their aim is true, and their numbers are many!"


    The skies immediately erupted into a chaotic dance as dragons, wyrms, and wyverns veered in every possible direction. It was a mesmerizing yet heart-wrenching sight as majestic beasts, known for dominating land, sea, and air, desperately twisted in the skies to evade whatever was careening towards them.


    An echo of understanding flashed through Relor''s ancient eyes as they narrowed and honed in on the distant horizon. There, the air was rife with the burning streaks of the darts, which moved at speeds that were impossible for anyone within the mortal realms to reach.


    And just as the first darts closed in on the Draconics, Relor unleashed a power that only a few had ever seen and lived to tell the tale. The inside of his mouth glowed with the intensity of molten metal, a primordial heat that promised both creation and destruction. With a guttural roar, he released a plume of flame, but this was no ordinary fire. It bore the incandescent brilliance and heat of plasma, arching around him in a massive swath that stretched for hundreds of meters, consuming the darts in its wake.


    Yet, for all of Relor''s might, he could not shield everyone. The horde of wyverns were already disadvantaged by their diminutive stature and lack of robust defenses. They were hit the hardest, and many perished instantly upon contact, their bodies ripping apart in a blinding flash of light. Sturdier and more formidable Wyrms still suffered grievous wounds as their scales split apart and wings tore, but they were still able to survive the volley.


    The Dragons, however, were still the apex of their kind. They were thrown off course, disoriented or even flinched at the explosion''s shockwaves, but they were still flight and fight worthy.


    Relor himself wasn''t exempt from the barrage. Several of the darts managed to pierce his defenses, exploding against his thick feathers and causing him to growl in pain. But the mighty dragon was not one to be easily defeated. He pushed through the pain with an unwavering determination, his body surging forward with a burst of acceleration only dragons possessed.


    "Quickly! Close the distance!" The Sovereign roared as his enormous frame suddenly accelerated forward at impossible speeds, defying the very nature of his colossal size. The gust of wind from his burst echoed like a thunderous clap, encouraging others to follow suit. As other dragons attempted to keep pace with their leader, the sky transformed into sea monsters, harnessing their innate power to reach a velocity that would otherwise seem unattainable.


    With their eyes ablaze with fiery determination, they bore down upon the source of their torment. Just ahead, Relor finally spotted them. Hordes of metal beasts with wings of steel and hearts of fire hat spat death with unyielding precision.


    But their attack hadn''t gone unnoticed. As the dragons closed the gap, another volley of missiles erupted from the flying machines, targeting the soaring beasts with cold and calculated efficiency. The air became a storm of fire and metal, each side unleashing its fury in a desperate bid to overpower the other.


    Realizing the raw power that surged towards them, the metal beasts attempted to break contact, their engines roaring to life in bright jets of flame as they climbed steeply or banked sharply, trying to keep the distance between themselves and the dragons. But they had underestimated the primal might and agility that fueled the dragon kind.


    With a fierce cry, Relor led the charge. His mouth glowed like a forge, and a torrent of molten fire erupted, consuming the sky in hellfire. The flames enveloped the closest metal monsters in a fiery embrace, melting their cold, steel exteriors in mere seconds.


    To their side, another dragon utilized its raw physical might, stretching its powerful limbs to seize one of the fleeing machines. With a fierce swipe, claws as hard as diamonds sheared through metal and machinery, ripping a wing off and sending it spiraling uncontrollably to the ground below. The machine became a tumbling mass of fire and debris, a testament to the dragon''s unforgiving strength.


    The sky became a canvas of chaos, roars of loud buzzing of strange alien weapons, swirls of fire, ice, or lightning, and blinding explosions lit up the night sky as the two groups merged. For every dragon that fell, a metal beast ended in a symphony of destruction. It was a battle that defied the realms of possibility, where ancient might meet modern steel in a clash that threatened to tear the very sky asunder.


    Yet amidst the frenzy of destruction, a glimmer of unity emerged. Relor''s commanding presence surged through every dragon, binding them as one, a living entity of flames and scales that made them operate with a collective will. They moved as a unit, a formidable force that wielded both elemental breath and flight with synchronized mastery.


    The smaller dragon that had spoken earlier now found its voice again amidst the maelstrom, shouting instructions and encouraging its comrades with newfound bravery. The dragons began to utilize tactics they had never needed before, working together to outmaneuver and overwhelm the seemingly inexhaustible metal adversaries with their superior acceleration.


    Relor could feel a unified pulse of intent and will flow between him and the flight of subjugated dragons. Together, they formed a living entity, a tapestry of flames and scales woven with a collective resolve to preserve their lineage and skies.


    Yet, the metallic intruders also seemed to bear an eerie semblance of unity. Even when the dragons turned the bodies of the metal monsters into molten wrecks, the horde maintained their cruel, relentless assault, swooping in and retreating with cold precision.


    From the eyes of the dragons, these flying beasts were devoid of life yet bore a sinister intelligence, a reflection of the merciless beings who seemingly forged them. The dragons could see how they capitalized on their distance, striking with their metal talons from afar and retreating before any dragon could reach them.


    Everything flying above the clouds found themselves locked in a dance of death, and in the pulsating heart of the battle, Relor and his brethren fought with a primal fury that echoed the ancient battles of their ancestors. Their cries filled the sky, a symphony of raw power and determination reverberating across the heavens. Despite the ferocious onslaught, the dragons exhibited grace and harmony in their movements, a ballet of fire and wind that defied the metallic monsters that sought to control their skies.


    Memories from battles of yore started to flood into Relor''s mind. When kin clashed against kin, when feathers met scales in a whirlwind of fire and fury, those battles had been personal, a tumultuous struggle for power and dominion. But this... this was different. The metallic adversaries bore no emotion, no sentiment, no regret. They were instruments of destruction, each move calculated, each strike executed with an admirable and horrifying precision.


    Relor roared angrily at the sight of these soulless mortal-built machines striking down his majestic people as if they were mere game. A blistering anger rose within him, an inferno threatening to consume his entire being. But within that anger lay a well of ancient determination capable of carving through valleys and sundering mountains.


    Dragons and their Kin were the rightful rulers and caretakers of all the realms. They were the guardians of ancient lore, the keepers of mortals, creatures who graced the dreams and stories of the very beings that sought to refuse them arrogantly.


    And as the metallic demons advanced, converging from the darkening horizon, an energy unfurled within Relor, ancient and untamed, rising like an invincible tide.


    With his massive wings outstretched, Relor raised his head towards the heavens. From the depths of his soul, a roar resounded, echoing with magic that pulsed through time and space. It was a cry infused with the wisdom of the ancients, a harmonious blend of power and grace that sang the song of creation and echoed the heartbeat of the universe itself.


    The dragons around him felt it ¨C a resonance that struck deep, fusing with their very essence. It awakened a latent force within them, a wellspring of power that empowered their bodies and ignited a flame in their hearts that even death couldn''t quell.


    A golden aura radiated from the gargantuan feathered dragon, emitting a tangible energy that spread outwards in undulating waves, wrapping around every one of his kin in a warm embrace of light and might. Each dragon, each wyrm, and even each wyvern became a beacon, a luminous entity that echoed the golden fire burning within Relor. And with the Sovereign himself at the head of the pack, they strode forward towards the metal monsters, breathing fire upon the numerous deadly darts that hurtled towards them.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 5

    Within the bustling confines of the makeshift command post, a rhythmic symphony of artillery and their crew provided a grim backdrop as Brigadier General Lawrence Hargrove wrestled the landline from its cradle. Lawrence''s stern face lined with the stress of leadership amidst chaos as his voice went taut as steel cables when he spoke.


    "Sir, I¡¯m doing everything possible to keep the situation contained.¡± The Brigadier general spoke as his aids were embroiled in their own frantic conversations with field commanders. ¡°But I¡¯ve got no lines, sir; I¡¯ve got everything from the rangers to the local police forces mixed with the enemy out there.¡± General Hargrove paused for a moment before bringing a hand to his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long we¡¯ll be able to hold out, but it won''t be long. I need those reinforcements, and I need them yesterday."


    On the other end of the line, the voice of General Vincent Turner echoed with the gravity of the nation''s highest military echelons. The hum of background activity was ever-present, hinting at the magnitude of nationwide mobilization.


    "I hear you, Lawrence," his voice was like ground steel, unwavering amidst the pandemonium. "There''s a total recall from Poland to Japan beelining it to Ohio, but they need time, time we desperately need you to buy."


    Hargrove''s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he surveyed the hectic room around him. Reports of units being overrun streamed in while his aids did their best to try to get control of the situation. "Time isn''t a luxury we can afford, Vincent. The Air Force is keeping the¡­ the dragons at bay, but they¡¯re being attrited at an alarming rate, and I fear what he has on the ground won''t stand a chance if those beasts descend upon us in full force. We''re holding on by a thread here."


    There was a long silence, filled only by the cacophony of artillery batteries working distant battlefields and the frantic movements of personnel within the command center. The maps spread on the table seemed to pulse with a life of their own, bearing witness to a clash of worlds that was as unimaginable as it was brutal.


    Vincent''s voice crackled back, carrying a sense of depression that mirrored the dire circumstances. "I understand, Lawrence, and I want you to know we''re moving heaven and earth to back you up, but¡­¡± The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff sighed deeply. ¡°But if these things break through and make it into any of the surrounding major population centers, the President has authorized a nuclear strike.¡±


    The words hung heavily between them as General Hargrove sat down and placed a hand on his head. "God, Vincent¡­¡± He muttered in horror. ¡°I¡¯d never thought I''d live to see the day where that would be an option on our own soil." His voice nearly cracked while his mind raced to find another way, any way, to prevent such a cataclysm.


    He could almost picture Vincent on the other end, in the well-lit rooms of the Pentagon, surrounded by the most brilliant military minds, all grappling with the unimaginable. Yet, here it was, happening in real time.


    ¡°... We¡¯ll hold, sir.¡± The brigadier general declared that he cradled his head. ¡°We¡¯ll hold, or we¡¯ll die.¡±


    Vincent took another moment before his voice came through, frayed but steady, "Elements of the 1st Cavalry Division and the 82nd Airborne are already in theater, but their full strength won''t be there another 24 hours.¡± General Turner¡¯s words felt like a gut punch to Hargrove. The seconds stretched painfully, the weight of leadership and responsibility pressing down on him. "ISR is also reporting that the enemy''s main body is pushing north; my recommendation is to start pulling back. Godspeed, Lawrence."


    After the line fell silent, Hargrove slammed his field phone down and immediately stormed over to the expansive map sprawled on the table. He meticulously examined the crucial locations between their current HQ  and Cleveland. "We need to implement a ''defense in depth'' approach, draw them close, extend their lines, and bleed them relentlessly at every juncture," he directed, voice firm and resolute.


    All of the officers in the tent rushed over to the table table as the general highlighted Zanesville, Wheeling, Marietta, and New Philadelphia. "Have our boys retreat to these positions, and these towns should act as our secondary line of defense, giving us some breathing room."


    Hargrove continued, sketching out defensive points with swift, precise movements of his hand, "We''ll stagger our defenses, using the natural terrain and any urban environments to our advantage.¡±


    "We can use the highways as choke points, fortifying overpasses and intersections. They''ll become kill zones for artillery and close air support.¡± Hargrove''s Executive Officer, Colonel Reynolds spoke up as he mulled over the possibilities.


    ¡°I don''t know about that, sir. The big lizards may be preoccupied, but there''s still plenty of those small bastards flying about. They¡¯ve already proven they can pick apart our rotary aircraft.¡± Major Lee, the HQ¡¯s Operations officer, chimed in.


    Hargrove shot a firm glance in Major Lee''s direction. "Listen, gentlemen," he began, his voice gravelly and resonating with a gravitas that commanded immediate attention, "We aren''t in a position to be shy about the attrition rate of our aircraft. I want anything and everything in the air; we can¡¯t afford to hold back.¡±


    ¡°We need as much of our forces INTACT when we get to New Philadelphia.¡± The General¡¯s finger then slammed down on Akron, just below Cleveland. ¡°Because this is where we¡¯re making our last stand. We hold there, or we die there.¡±


    Silence settled heavily upon the room, the gravity of Hargrove''s words sinking into every individual present. Every officer in the HQ maintained a stoic face as they glanced at each other, but a maelstrom raged inside each of them. With a silent nod, the HQ staff dispersed to get to work, leaving Hargrove standing alone, leaning heavily over the map.


    -


    BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT


    A  thunderous roar resounded overhead as an A-10 Warthog cut through the smoke-filled sky, making a devastating strafing run. Its 30mm Gatling gun unleashed hellfire upon the fantastical horde out in the open field, mowing down swathes of monstrous creatures and armored beings. The sheer force of its firepower carved a clear path in the battlefield, giving DuPont and his men a brief reprieve from the relentless onslaught.


    But as quickly as the Warthog had entered the scene, it began to climb and bank sharply while its engines howled as it sought to evade a new threat. From the dense treeline, two massive winged monsters erupted out of the tree tops, their wingbeats causing gusts of wind that knocked over some of the lighter creatures below. With a horrendous snarl, the beasts set their predatory gaze on the retreating aircraft, their leathery wings cutting through the air with a speed that was at odds with their size.


    Instant recognition spread across Lieutenant DuPont''s face after seeing the Warthog¡¯s merciless gun run had gutted the enemy force¡¯s right flank. ¡°RESET LEFT!!¡± He Bellowed to his men as he pointed to the glaring vulnerability amidst the chaos.


    ¡°RESET LEFT!¡± His men echoed the order as groups stood up and repositioned themselves. In their haste to replenish their dwindling numbers on their decimated flank, the enemy had left a noticeable gap in their formation. Their magical barriers flickered inconsistently and ultimately winked out as a torrent of machine gun and rifle fire ripped into it.


    Suddenly, a titanic figure surged from the chaotic depths of the enemy lines. This humanoid behemoth towered at an imposing height of nearly 15 feet, its large, portly abdomen starkly contrasting with the masterfully crafted armor it wore. Wielding a colossal metal shield in one hand and a menacing metal club in the other, the brute launched into a furious charge across the open expanse towards the treeline.


    Friend or foe, everyone¡¯s attention was redirected to the armored monster. In response, a relentless hail of gunfire shifted to the giant, only to be deflected effortlessly by the massive shield in its grip. Even the normally devastating rounds of .50 Cal machine guns seemed to effortlessly bounce off as the ground shook with each thunderous step.


    ¡°BACK BLAST! BACK BLAST!¡± One of the operators from that Special Forces group DuPont had met just an hour prior yelled as the man aimed his Carl Gustaf at a monstrous figure.


    With a squeeze of the trigger, a deafening blast resounded as the anti-tank warhead tore through the air in a definitive arc before ultimately finding its mark. The monster couldn¡¯t even register the threat as a searing white-hot jet of molten copper pierced the massive slab of metal in its hands and forged a path of devastation through the creature''s flesh.


    However, the giant wasn¡¯t the only casualty as the force of the explosion expanded violently within its vast body and ejected out of its back into whatever poor soul was brave enough to follow behind it. A group of those small lizards and armored humanoid figures were completely showered in shattered bone fragments and shards metal.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Seeing another opportunity, DuPont bolted from this fallen tree he was using as cover to the nearest machine gunner. Tapping the side of his helmet and the Lieutenant pointed to the group of exposed magic users and shouted, ¡°Light them the fuck up!¡±


    Without even skipping a beat, the machine gunner shifted his fire left and sprayed down a group of robbed individuals who were hastily erecting a new line of magical defenses. The machine gun chattered incessantly, and each bullet that was found that slammed into the bright barrier sent out ripples of distortion until a few rounds started to poke through.


    The robed figures were a mismatch of individuals who seemed to possess varying degrees of skill, and under the relentless hail of gunfire, their coordination broke down. The entire left flank barrier crumbled, and in its absence, death followed. DuPont¡¯s platoon and the National Guard seized the moment and dumped everything into the exposed horde.


    No mercy was had as the enemy¡¯s morale broke and their formations crumbled. The shimmering blue barrier fell in its entirety as they turned to run for the opposing treeline, leaving themselves completely exposed and unprotected against DuPont¡¯s Platoon and the remnants of the entrenched National Guard Company.


    Chatters of machine guns and the blasts of shoulder-launched munitions tore through the horde like a scythe through wheat, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. Soldiers, who had just moments before been holding on to their lines for dear life, avenged their fallen brothers as they mercilessly cut down the invaders.


    ¡°CEASE FIRE!¡± Captain Duggen¡¯s voice suddenly echoed as he ran up and down the line. ¡°I SAID CEASE FIRE!¡±


    With reluctant obedience, the symphony of violence and destruction dwindled to a grim silence, punctuated only by the moans of the wounded and the crackling of burning debris. Soldiers hesitated, their fingers lingering near triggers as they surveyed the shattered remnants of the horde, wary of a potential counterattack.


    Taking position beside DuPont, Captain Duggen swiftly brought up his end user device, and glanced down at the dynamic tactical battle map displayed on its screen. "Command''s ordering a retreat order," he stated tersely, his eyes darting between the device and the aftermath of their battle. "We need to use this lul in the fighting to get the fuck out of here and I need you and your Bradleys to hold the rear.¡±


    The thumps of the Bradleys main guns echoed out in the distance engaging whatever was on the main road. ¡°I¡¯ve got too many wounded and too many civilians to move fast and you¡¯re the best equipped to shield us as we fall back," Duggen continued as his brows furrowed.


    ¡°Roger that, Captain.¡± DuPont replied while glancing down at his own end user device.


    He hadn¡¯t noticed it, but his platoon was several kilometers away from the main body of their battalion. He zoomed out on his tactical map and nearly gasped at what he saw. It was a sea of red blinking icons indicating heavy enemy positions and lines of contact and yet around their immediate vicinity, the map was relatively clear. Somehow, they had ended up in a pocket of minimal resistance while the majority of the enemy forces seemed to be concentrated at Cambridge High School that was a mile or two away from the main road.


    Shaking his head, the Lieutenant turned his attention back to Captain Duggen and replied, ¡°It looks like it¡¯s pretty clear from here to the marked staging area.¡± DuPont snapped his device closed against his chest and looked around at his men. ¡°We won¡¯t have much time, but we can load the wounded in the Bradleys and make our way back to the rear.¡±


    DuPont''s gaze then shifted to the main road and saw massive muzzle flashes of one of his Bradleys between the gaps of thick brush. ¡°Plus, those things have been firing non stop. They should be pretty low on ammo by now.¡±


    The Captain nodded gravely, realizing that their window of opportunity was far too narrow for comfort. ¡°Fires and air support are sparse too. They¡¯re concentrated in other areas, it was already a miracle how one of the special forces guys got a fast mover to even respond.¡± He sighed, bringing a hand to his head. ¡°We need to move now before it''s too late.¡±


    With a decisive nod, DuPont picked up the radio and began issuing concise commands, setting the withdrawal into motion. The Captain mimicked the action, ordering his men to start corralling the civilians and prepare the wounded.


    As the encampment erupted into a flurry of action as soldiers worked tirelessly moving equipment while preparing the wounded and the civilians for evacuation. The air was thick with urgency, the harsh undertones of barked orders and the mechanical roar of vehicles coming to life forming a harsh atmosphere that traveled through the entrenched position.


    A little farther from the buzz of activity, the group of special forces soldiers kept their eyes trained on the areas where the invaders had retreated, waiting patiently for anyone foolish enough to stick their head out.


    SNAP


    The muffled yet still loud report of a suppressed rifle pierced the morning air. Behind the trigger was a soldier named Richard Schwarz, the team¡¯s resident sniper. A towering and pale figure with a wild and untamed beard reminiscent of a Viking, he was a living testament to the strength and perseverance of the J?ger of old.


    ¡°Dipshit¡­¡± The operator sneered as a figure with what looked like rabbit ears clutched their chest and treated back into the foliage. ¡°Hey, Cole, I dunno if my rifle is penetrating these guys. I didn¡¯t exactly bring anything other than 7.62.¡± The man said, turning his head to his Special Forces Operational Detachment-Alpha (ODA) team Major Patrick Coleman.


    The man bore the kind of features that could easily blend into any crowd, yet held an innate quality that demanded respect. His platinum blonde hair was neat and closely cropped, he was the picture perfect definition of a leader of elite soldiers. His short beard, a golden stubble really, was meticulously maintained, giving a rugged charm to his otherwise unassuming visage.


    Looking over to his right with his crystal blue eyes, Cole acknowledged Schwarz¡¯ concern with an annoyed grunt. ¡°Maybe we are, maybe we aren''t.¡± He shifted his position slightly, keeping a keen eye on the ever-moving boundaries of the forest before them. The underlying tension seemed to have multiplied, becoming almost a physical entity in itself.


    ¡°But it seems to be doing something seeing they¡¯re dipping their heads back in after we hit ¡®em.¡± the Major continued, stretching his neck to the side. "Just keep popping them. It¡¯s not like we can do anything about it right now.¡±


    Schwarz shook his head in disbelief of the entire situation. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m still in fucking awe.¡± He said, shifting the rifle in a more comfortable position. ¡°When they first threw us out here, I expected aliens, not¡­ Lord of the Rings bullshit.¡±


    As the strained sounds of suppressed laughter rose, Bennett Moran, the ODA team''s engineer, couldn''t hold back any longer. He was a noticeably tall individual with a lanky build, which contrasted with the muscular physiques of some of his team members. ¡°Ya, maybe we can ask one of the dragons if Sauron¡¯s behind this,¡± he quipped with a mischievous smirk on his face..


    "I mean, I wouldn''t count anything out." The team''s medic, Elijah Drake, chimed in this time while rubbing his thick scraggly beard.  The man rolled his sleeves up to reveal the warm hue of his earthly brown skin as an attempt to cool down during the hot summer night. ¡°I did blast a fatty cosplaying as a Balrog with a Gustaf.¡± The medic laughed, smirking at Coleman.


    Coleman simply shook his head in derision. "Fucking nerds..." He muttered before refocusing on the tree line.


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous we have hobbies outside the army.¡± Elijah quipped, the grin evident in his voice even as he kept his eyes peeled on their surroundings.


    Bennett chimed in, "Yeah, Tolkien is a masterpiece. Besides, it¡¯ll go a long way to familiarizing yourself with our new friends here, since we¡¯re effectively being invaded by Narnia."


    ¡°No, no. Cole¡¯s definitely right.¡± Schwarz interjected as he squeezed the trigger, ending another scout too foolish not to keep their heads hidden. ¡°You¡¯re both nerds.¡±


    ¡°Fucking nerds, to be exact.¡± Coleman corrected.


    A silence fell, punctuated only by the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions of intense battles. Occasionally, a stray artillery round or streak of magical energy would wizz by overhead, a surreal reminder of the blend of technology and mysticism that defined this conflict. The team hunkered down in their position, the forest offering them a semblance of protection and camouflage against the chaos of the outside world.


    ¡°Do you think they have elves?¡± Elijah suddenly spoke up. ¡°I¡¯d do an elf.¡±


    Before anyone else could respond, Bennett gave the medic the side eye. "You¡¯d do anything, degenerate."


    Coleman placed a hand on his head to subdue the growing headache. ¡°Oh, for fucks sake¡­¡±  He sighed, knowing another round of their incessant bickering would start up again. And like clockwork, Elijah turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the engineer.


    But Major Coleman interrupted the spat before a word could leave the medic¡¯s mouth. ¡°Alright, shut the fuck up now, please,¡± he begged more than commanded, rubbing his temples in evident frustration.


    Amused snorts from unseen members of the ODA team resounded further down the line. Another bout of silence reigned as the group waited for their conventional counterparts to hurry up with their preparations.


    However, Elijah could not help himself as a retort flew Bennetts''s way. ¡°Fuck you.¡± The medic said.


    ¡°No, fuck you.¡± Bennett immediately shot back, knowing the insult was coming.


    Coleman''s growl of annoyance was drowned by the crackle of their radios coming to life. "Baron, this is Viking. Be advised that a large mass of enemy forces are starting to converge on your location. We¡¯re going to saturate the area with artillery, ETA 20 minutes, how copy?¡±


    After glaring at the two idiots, Coleman grabbed his push to talk and responded, ¡°Roger that Viking, Baron copies all. Baron, out.¡± He turned to his Elijah and threw his head towards the makeshift encampment. "Alright, let''s do this shit."


    Without needing further prompting, Elijah stood up and followed Coleman to help speed things along.


    As the two navigated through the dense brush, Coleman looked up and frowned. He wasn¡¯t able to properly process the sight of enormous building sized dragons chasing after fighter aircraft that were trying to desperately keep their distance. It felt like a fever dream especially when his eyes fell upon the absolutely gargantuan golden being spitting fire like a fire hose while twisting and turning as if physics was just merely a suggestion.


    ¡°Maybe we are being invaded by Narnia¡­¡± He muttered as he picked up the pace.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 6

    A melancholic chill filled the air while DuPont and his platoon sat atop the Bradleys as they traveled north.


    He and his platoon weren¡¯t alone, however. Everywhere DuPont looked he saw soldiers and guardsmen riding on top of their vehicles, clutching onto their gear and weapons. Each vehicle, from Humvees to larger transport trucks, was packed to capacity with wounded soldiers and civilians, many of whom were in visible distress, their faces pallid from shock and fatigue. Children clung to their parents, trying to comprehend the chaos around them. Medics worked tirelessly, tending to the wounded even as they moved, stabilizing injuries and offering what little comfort they could.


    The freeway itself was a sea of both military and civilian vehicles. As far as the eye could see, the lanes were congested, with a seemingly endless convoy all heading in the same direction. Pickup trucks, SUVs, and even the occasional school bus repurposed to ferry evacuees rode alongside tanks and artillery units. Every so often, the skyline would be pierced by the blades of helicopters flying overhead, surveying the ground below and providing aerial support.


    As they fled, DuPont turned his vision south towards the dark horizon lit up by the many fires of the town they had been supposed to defend. Some would have called the retreat organized, but DuPont figured it only seemed that way because everyone was running in the same direction.


    Cambridge was lost the moment that rift opened, and those monsters came out. No matter how he or anyone else deluded themselves, DuPont realized there was never any real chance of holding that town¡­ But he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about all of those who they had to leave behind.


    Captain Duggen kept some semblance of order, but the Lieutenant couldn¡¯t figure out whether they were all obeying his command or they just happened to coincide with what everyone thought best. They followed the freeway to the next town with the horde close on their heels.


    Not too long ago, DuPont learned that those monsters had their own version of artillery, and some of it had already landed in the area. He looked around and saw a small country home, similar to his granny''s house, just outside of Atlanta. A cute, dainty home now turned into blackened slag with its garden and white picket fence still intact.


    That was when it hit him. They had been invaded.


    The scream of low-flying aircraft letting loose a couple of missiles before steeply climbing back into the sky abruptly knocked DuPont out of his reverie. The missiles arced up, illuminating the horizon with blinding flashes as they struck unseen targets.


    Cries of fear rippled throughout the convoy as civilians huddled closer together, trying to shield themselves and their loved ones from the impending danger. Children buried their faces into their parents¡¯ chests, their tiny bodies shaking with terror.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought I¡¯d see the day where we''re the ones retreating while the Air Force is charging headlong into the fray,¡± Hofmann''s voice came gruffly over the commotion, a mix of awe and disbelief evident in his tone.


    Thankful for the distraction, DuPont turned his gaze towards Hofmann, who was perched in the commander¡¯s cupola of the Bradley, his eyes fixed on the distant aerial ballet of fighter jets darting through the sky. ¡°They¡¯re the tip of the spear right now,¡± DuPont said with genuine admiration. ¡°The Air Force and the Air National Guard have been just¡­ throwing themselves at those things just to keep the bigger ones off our ass.¡±


    Hofmann frowned, adjusting his helmet slightly. "The bigger ones? How much bigger are we talking?" He leaned back, glancing up at the sky to see a few more missiles being loosed by another set of fighters. ¡°Those fuckers in the forest were as big as F-16s.¡±


    DuPont grimaced, his blue eyes reflecting the weight of what he''d heard from intel. "Big enough to take out an Abrams. Heard it over the net; Delta was screaming how some big piece of shit slagged an entire tank platoon with a single breath.¡±


    A deep sigh left Hofmann¡¯s mouth as he closed his eyes and hung his head momentarily, absorbing what DuPont had just shared. "Fuck me¡­¡± He whispered, "Slagged¡­? As in melted?¡±


    The Lieutenant nodded slowly as his soldiers around him shifted nervously. "Melted, vaporized, whatever you want to call it. The tank armor didn''t stand a chance. Reports suggest that the metal just... liquified."


    ¡°But that¡¯s not even the worst of it.¡± DuPont looked back towards the south, where faint plumes of smoke marked their previous encounters. "Reports are coming in that they¡¯re getting smarter, adjusting their tactics. Every move we make, they''re responding faster, adapting. Their ground forces? They''re no longer standing out in the open like they''re reenacting some ancient battlefield. They¡¯re using cover, flanking, and coordinating.¡±


    Hofmann''s brows furrowed in frustration. "You''re saying they''re learning from us?"


    DuPont shook his head, "I¡¯d say it¡¯s more like they¡¯re starting to pay attention to what works and what doesn''t.¡± He sighed and adjusted his rifle. ¡°Command thinks they underestimated us and waltz in here thinking they could just burn a few towns, awe us with their size and might, and then watch us kneel. They probably expected a swift and relatively bloodless victory on their part."


    ¡°And now they realized we¡¯re dangerous after bloodying their nose.¡± Hofmann mused, casting a contemplative glance at the horizon.


    A silence ensued, broken only by the distant roar of jet engines. Suddenly, Hofmann squinted at the sky, noticing a formation of lower-flying fighters launching missiles toward the horizon. "By the way, why are they flying so low?" Hofmann questioned, pointing at the sky.


    DuPont followed Hofmann''s gaze, recognizing the pattern. "Those fucks are hiding in the trees.¡± He explained with a grimace on his face. ¡°They¡¯re blasting any of those smaller dragons whenever they pop out of the forest."


    Hofmann''s eyes widened in realization. "Great, so you''re telling me these dragons are VTOLs that can just hide in the goddamn trees and ambush us whenever they like?"


    ¡°Yeeeeeep¡­¡± DuPont nodded grimly. ¡°It¡¯s harder for the flyboys to detect them when they¡¯re so low and nestled in the foliage. Even our recon drones have been having a hell of a time spotting them until they''re practically airborne and on top of our units."


    DuPont leaned back, feeling the vibrations from the Bradley beneath him. "And that''s not the only problem. Once they take off, they''re nimble, fast as fuck, and can change direction in a heartbeat.¡± A few of his men on the Bradley just started laughing because of the absurdity. ¡°And they can FEEL fucking radar, apparently. Our SAMs have an¡­ okay hit rate, but not enough that makes anyone feel comfortable."


    No one felt like asking anyone questions or continuing the conversation after that nugget of news. A depressing silence swept across the convey, with only the droning sounds of rumbling tracks and the deafening hisses of missiles fired from jets overhead providing any backdrop. Soldiers exchanged worried glances, gripped their weapons tighter, and hunkered down, each lost in their thoughts.


    For once, they¡¯re going into battle lacking overmatch capabilities, a situation the U.S. military hadn''t faced in quite a long while.


    As the convoy continued its steady advance, the battered defenders finally found themselves driving into New Philadelphia. A sign of a somewhat organized military presence was palpable here. Still, it was a hodgepodge of rapidly deployed units and the chaotic reorganization that had been taking place to bring them under one unified command.


    The streets were lined with military and civilian vehicles, and schools and municipal buildings were hastily converted into field hospitals and command centers. Everywhere DuPont looked, he could see service members from the Army, Air Force, Marines, and strangely enough, even the Navy were working side by side with local law enforcement and first responders. The usual distinction between units had been replaced by a singular goal: survival and defense.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Tanks and armored vehicles had been positioned at key intersections, vigilantly watching the distant treelines and skies while a group of Seabees worked on constructing barricades. Impromptu fortifications that sprang up everywhere, slowly turning the once-peaceful town into a veritable fortress.


    Yet despite all the preparations for the upcoming battle, another kind of operation was also in full swing. Emergency services were in a mad dash to evacuate the remaining civilians from the potential war zone. Buses, vans, and even regular sedans were being readied to ferry families, the elderly, and anyone not directly involved in the defense efforts out of harm''s way.


    As the Bradley maneuvered through the town''s main thoroughfare, DuPont¡¯s gaze was drawn to a familiar looking group. There, in a cleared-out parking lot, stood the special forces team he had spotted earlier rapidly refitting and re-arming from the crates of weapons and supplies being offloaded by the endless stream of helicopters flying in.


    Adjacent to the team, a few Blackhawk helicopters and V-22 Ospreys sat with blades still spinning, engines emanating a low growl, indicative of their recent return from some mission. Ground crew darted around the choppers, refueling and performing quick checks, ensuring they''d be ready for the next sortie at a moment''s notice.


    DuPont narrowed his eyes as he watched their efficiency. The team didn¡¯t waste any time as they shoved grenades in their pockets, magazines in their pouches and water in their packs. It only took them a handful of seconds to secure their gear before the elite soldier darted to an Osprey full of fresh marines as its rotors churned up dust from the asphalt.


    Hofmann leaned closer to DuPont, shouting over the cacophony of helicopters and armored vehicles, "Damn, they¡¯re not wasting any time!"


    DuPont nodded, his eyes fixed on the rapidly departing rotary aircrafts. "Ya, they¡¯ve come to fuck!" The Lieutenant shouted back.


    Before the conversation about the special operation team could continue further, the ground vibrated under their feet, as a procession of M1A2 Abrams tanks roared into view. These mechanical beasts moved in perfect synchrony, their powerful engines whining in unison and their heavy treads churning the battered streets as they sped towards the front line.


    Hofmann felt a rush of pride seeing these behemoths roll by. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve come to fuck too," he muttered with a half-smile.


    "Let''s not keep them waiting, then!" DuPont, catching the sentiment, nodded in agreement. "C¡¯mon, let''s drop off the wounded and get resupplied, we¡¯ve got lizards to kill!."


    The Bradleys once again roared to life and stormed towards the aid station and the assembly area. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the platoon joined the heavy machines, all moving to a pre-designated staging area. Soldiers checked their gear, commanders reviewed the battle plans, and everyone prepared for the coming offensive.


    -


    ¡°Mages and healers to the front!¡± bellowed Rhyzukar, a service bound Dragonkin commander.


    The formidable voice echoed throughout the expansive plain filled with Drakoni legions and the Empires vassal forces. Marks of servitude marked his scaled form, silver shackles covered in ethereal flames were tattooed around his muscular forelimbs, a spectral symbol of the ancient oath he had been born into, binding him and his kin to the Empire''s service.


    "Make haste, lest the enemy winged monstrosities and iron chariots overrun our brothers!!" Rhyzukar''s fiery eyes darted about, surveying the mayhem below as his forces faced the might of magicks they could hardly fathom.


    Looking up at the elevated commander, Yzael''s face contorted in concern and disbelief. Her striking platinum hair cascaded down in elegant waves, contrasted by her ethereal, almost translucent skin. Her elongated ears, characteristic of the High Elves, stretched out nearly as long as a forearm. They had a slight, elegant droop to them due to their weight, making her appearance even more unique and striking. The gentle curve of those ears gave her an appearance of regal grace, but at this moment, they quivered with anxiety.


    Yzael looked to her direct superior, Lord Jrazem. The man had trained, studied, and mediated with the Seraph Empire on behalf of the vassal states on this invasion for months. All intelligence had pointed to an easy conquest, a realm devoid of any potent magic that could challenge the might of the empire and its tributaries. But now, she was unsure that such a victory would be so easy after what she saw earlier.


    The celestial seraphic dragon, one of the empire''s sovereigns, soared through the sky and into the rift. Initially she thought this to be an eccentric inspection of their immediate victory, but the triumphant return they had expected never occurred. Instead, urgent cries and desperate calls to strengthen the barrier protecting the small foothold they established on the other had been deafening.


    ¡°I thought this was supposed to be easy¡­¡± A voice next to Yzael resounded from behind her.


    The High Elf turned around and saw one of the largest humans she had ever had the displeasure of knowing, a towering and brawny figure named Gideon. He was a warrior from her side of the rift, one of the many unaffiliated Freelancers the independent principalities, city states and small kingdoms contracted to help with the invasion.


    Donned in heavy iron armor that had seen better days, the plating was scuffed and marred from countless battles, adding a layer of history to the already fearsome appearance. But despite the armor''s worn appearance, Gideon stood firm and unyielding, as his massive axe dropped on top of his shoulder.


    Stretching his rough and scarred face into a smile, Gideon¡¯s scrutinizing gaze shifted to the rift in the distance. ¡°They said it¡¯d be like hunting Fawn in an open field. Right? ¡±he teased, slapping Yzael¡¯s shoulder with a heavy gauntlet, causing her to stagger slightly. ¡°I guess it serves ¡®em right in bein¡¯ so damned arrogant.¡±


    The sheer force of Gideon¡¯s jovial pat sent a shudder through Yzael''s delicate frame. She cast him a sharp glance, her eyes like amethysts glinting under the uncertain light that filtered from the chaotic sky. ¡°This is no jesting matter, Gideon,¡± she hissed, her voice laced with apprehension. She smoothed her opalescent robes, the fabric shimmering with ethereal lights as she righted herself. ¡°The empire had a veritable horde of dragons, let alone wyrms or wyverns, and now they¡¯re trying to scrounge up any and every mage they can!¡±


    ¡°By the hells, they¡¯ve even sent their Sovereign in and that was HOURS ago!¡± Yzael snarled as she gripped her grimoire tightly.


    Gideon''s laugh echoed loudly across the field, clanging metal and desperate commands providing a chaotic symphony in the background. His laughter, devoid of mirth, bore the bitterness of a warrior who had seen the follies of many a campaign.


    But the mirthful demeanor soon dwindled, the warrior''s face then hardened by the unspoken worries mirrored in Yzael¡¯s wide eyes. He watched the desperate scramble further ahead, the once-mighty legions in disarray, dragons and their kind limping back into the encampment with wounds that seemed impossible to inflict.


    ¡°Aye,¡± he grumbled, his gaze hardened by the chaotic panorama unfolding. ¡°They thought to tame another world, bind it in chains, but look now¡­ they¡¯re caught in their own snare.¡±


    His attention shifted back to Yzael with a face devoid of emotion. ¡°They were fools to think they could just march into another realm and claim it as their own. Fools to underestimate the might that dwells in unknown worlds.¡±


    Yzael''s eyes were shadowed with foreboding as she stared at the confusion and turmoil unraveling amongst their ranks. ¡°But we are bound in this folly now, Gideon. Our fate is intertwined with theirs -¡± Her words were soon interrupted by innumerable and brief flashes of light in the direction of the rift.


    Then came the sound of deafening explosions as the barrier protecting the growing outpost on the other side of the rift glowed a bright blue. Yzael felt it; the barrier screamed in agony as it absorbed the concussive forces, its ethereal membrane shimmering in and out of existence as it battled the overwhelming onslaught.


    A torrent of hushed whispers flooded throughout the mass of mages as Yzael¡¯s eyes widened, fixated on the mesmerizing, terrifying display. Her heart thundered in her chest, the cacophony of explosion magic assaulting her senses. ¡°By the Ancients...¡± she whispered in horror.


    That was not the familiar, heated embrace of fire magic. The violent concussions and blinding light were the hallmarks of the ancient and forbidden art of explosion magic, a power so uncontrollable and deadly, only wielded by archwizards or the dragons themselves.


    Yet here it was, being unleashed with a terrible and precise wrath by a realm that was supposed to harbor no magical essence.


    Gideon, though unversed in the intricate lores of magic, sensed the extraordinary nature of the assault. The blows that reverberated through the earth spoke of an immense and fearsome power. ¡°What in the realms is happening, Yzael?¡± he inquired, his voice tinged with the unfamiliar sting of dread. His steel armor, staunch and unyielding before, now felt like a fragile shell in the face of this boundless onslaught.


    The high elf¡¯s visage, painted in hues of despair and awe, met Gideon''s questioning gaze. ¡°Explosion magic,¡± Yzael gasped, her voice almost lost amidst the cacophony around her. ¡°How do they command such power?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Gideon responded by hefting his axe into his hands. ¡°Suppose we¡¯re ¡®bout to find out, ain¡¯t we?¡±


    With trepidation, the Armies of the vassal states marched forward with the Drakonic and Seraphic commanders leading their units as the vanguard. The elite legions moved with unwavering discipline in stark contrast to their disorderly vassals.


    And thus, the armies traversed the threshold, their forms bathed in the astral luminescence of the barrier¡¯s embrace. They emerged amidst the unknown, the realm beyond whispering a cold and deadly welcome.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 7

    Looking up at the alien night sky, Yzael and Gideon saw the formidable forms of dragon flights fresh from their realm soaring overhead. The two felt a distinct unease after seeing such power concentrated in one area. Even just one of these monsters were enough to bring a city to its knees and here they saw a veritable horde flying over the lands of these realms¡­


    And they were trouble.


    ¡°I bet ya an entire gold we won¡¯t live to see the morrow.¡± Gideon said through a derisive laugh, his gruff voice cutting through the silence. He might have continued his pessimistic musing, but Yzael''s sharp reprimand interrupted him.


    "Be silent, brute!" she barked, her eyes focusing on the sky.


    While the vast majority of the flights went to reinforce their brethren much further in the sky, the mage noticed that a fair number of the dragons were lingering just a ways in front of the barrier and the outpost that was being constructed. The majestic beast¡¯s were fixated on the horizon as if anticipating something, their thick necks craned, and their eyes shimmering with a spectral glow. The sight filled the troops on the ground with a cold, unsettling expectation.


    ¡°What are they waiting for?¡± Gideon muttered, disregarding Yzael¡¯s earlier admonition. His eyes squinted towards the distance, trying to discern what had captivated the dragons'' attention.


    ¡°Hush!¡± Yzael hissed, her hands clutching her grimoire tightly to her chest as she too attempted to pierce the distant haze. The smoke from the still burning town filled the night sky, leaving visibly much to be desired for.


    As they all watched in silence, one of the dragons'' deafening roars cut through the night as it hurled itself towards the horizon with frightening speed. One powerful bat of its wings and it was gone like a comet, Others quickly followed suit, their forms growing small into the distant gloom, leaving only the beating of their wings echoing in the air.


    The troops watched the breathtaking scene unfold as each dragon unleashed its own unique might upon an unseen adversary. Through the murky air, a spectacular array of colors blossomed. Fiery plumes of red and orange mingled with vibrant torrents of icy blue and white, while bolts of lightning interlaced them all, stitching the sky together with threads of electric gold.


    Yzael''s eyes widened at the mesmerizing spectacle, displaying a dance of beauty and destruction. ¡°By the ancients¡­¡± she whispered in awe. Despite the grave circumstance, the sight held an elegance, a testament to the diverse might of the dragons as they wielded their elemental fury.


    But soon, the mesmerizing lights ended and the low roar of something¡­ alien took its place.


    Suddenly Yzael and the other spotted them. Uncountable amounts of metallic creatures, their bodies narrow and arrow-like with stubby wings, silhouetted by the otherworldly moon as they sped across the night sky. Yzael''s heart pounded against her chest as the world around her seemingly drowned in the ominous roar of these impossibly fast, alien entities.


    They darted through the air with an unnatural, mechanical precision, moving in unison like a school of fish. Half as long as a wyvern, the entities emitted no aura of life, and their cold, metallic bodies seemed to suck the very warmth from the air as they passed.


    As the swift metallic creatures reached the barrier, their advance was halted by the ethereal shimmer of the barrier that the mages had hastily erected. Upon contact, enormous explosions bloomed against the barrier, each detonation casting violent ripples of blue energy to ripple across the barrier.


    The luminescent shield absorbed most of the impacts, its hue flickering erratically with each successive strike, however, the sheer magnitude and frequency of these explosions began to take their toll. Fissures of raw magical energy started to form, spider webbing across the barrier''s surface. Soldiers, mages, and all onlookers watched in horror as the protective wall''s briefly flickered out.


    With a sound akin to shattering crystal, a section of the barrier faltered and collapsed and a new wave of metallic entities broke through, with dragons hot on their heels. The advancing legions watched in horror as explosions ripped through the staging area just in front of the rift.


    Yzael nearly fell to her knees after witnessing the sheer destruction those things caused. She couldn¡¯t imagine the loss of mages they must have sustained, let alone the loss of life. The barrier should have been near impenetrable with the amount of magic being forced into it by powerful sorcerers and wizards.


    Gideon was the first to react as his voice roared above the maelstrom, attempting to bring order to the disarray, "Rally! Form ranks, we need to end whatever is spitting such hatred!¡± He ordered amidst the cacophony of explosions and the incessant shrieks of the alien projectiles still streaming in and the dragons desperately chasing them.


    The commanders of the retinue echoed the command, their voices amplified by magic, reverberating with urgency.


    ¡°Keep moving, we aren¡¯t the targets!¡± Their commander, Lysandra clad in her magic armor, commanded. ¡°But be prepared to erect a barrier on my command!¡±


    The legions, shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation, gathered their wits at the orders of their commanders. The indomitable will of Gideon and Lysandra shone like a beacon through the chaos as they approached the town.


    Heaving a deep breath, Yzael moved to the front and started chanting. A strange energy started building around the tips of her fingers as they moved deftly in the air, weaving intricate patterns as she recited her spell. A slight whistling sound grew louder and louder until the smoke started to shift.


    What started as a gentle breeze swiftly transformed into gusts that pushed back against the smoky tendrils that sought to obscure their path, showing a scene of carnage. The acrid scent of burnt wood and liquified metal filled everyone¡¯s nostrils.


    ¡°What do ya think this was?¡± Gideon asked, pushing to the front next to stand by Yzael, his heavy boots crunched against someone''s broken, charred remains.


    An equally curious look colored Yzael¡¯s face as her eyes fell upon a burned-out, misshapen metal hulk. "I even cannot fathom," Yzael said, her voice somber. The outline was odd, alien to their realm and was marked by strange symbols scorched and barely visible on the malformed metal. ¡°This¡­ thing seems to be wheeled, so some vehicle or carriage of some sort?¡±


    Gideon''s eyes followed the shrunken and burnt frame of what appeared to be wheels, now mere molten blobs beneath the monolithic hulk. "Where would one latch the beasts to pull?" he mused aloud, "Seems awfully inefficient for a carriage.¡±


    Yzael furrowed her brow and looked around for their commander until her eyes finally fell upon Lysandra and her brilliant magic armor. The domineering woman was deeply engrossed in a conversation with a Drakonic Commander, their large form towering over her. The dragonborn was clad in dark earthly scales, his voice a deep, thrumming resonance, spoken in urgent tones.


    Lysandra¡¯s face was drawn in a worried and tense expression as the dragonborn spoke and frantically. Yzael had never seen a being of their species look so¡­ panicked before in her life, and that just added to her growing anxiety of this operation. Her and Gideon finally made their way towards them, their steps hesitant as they approached the duo.


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    ¡°If you hear the whistling of the wind, you must take shelter! If out in the open, you must seek any cover possible, be it a ditch or depression in the land! Spread out your ranks! Bunching together will end in catastrophe for your formations!¡± The Drakonic Commander''s voice spoke with urgency, a sharp contrast to their usually calm and composed demeanor. His vibrant, golden eyes flicked from face to face, ensuring his words sank deep into the hearts of the other two commanders in front of him.


    ¡°If there is no shelter or cover, dig holes as fast as you can and stay low. Do not linger out in the open, and above all, keep communication as quiet as possible! Those¡­ THINGS lurk in the shadows. They can see in the night as if it were day!¡±


    Lysandra hands clenched tightly as she listened to every word with a difficult look on her face. If this came out of anyone or anything else, the woman would have marked this up to the raving of a mad man, but coming from one Drakonics¡­ made it all the more credible. The Drakonics were already known for their unyielding bravery and stoic demeanor, but with their servitude branding, made their advice and word of caution extremely unsettling.


    ¡°Thank you for the warning my liege,¡± Lysandra said, her voice full of skepticism yet layered with a deep respect. ¡°We will take your advice to heart. Our people and our realm are unfamiliar with these...adversaries and their methods of warfare. We must rely on each other''s strengths and knowledge if we are to protect our lands.¡±


    The Drakonic Commander nodded, seemingly expecting her skepticism. ¡°You do not believe me¡­ I too was in disbelief when I first faced these creatures, but I''ve witnessed the devastation they can bring firsthand. Trust in the experiences of those who have faced them. They are unlike any foe our world has ever seen."


    Gideon, with a hard expression, asked, ¡°What are these ''THINGS'' you speak of? Are they the reason behind the mangled remnants we found earlier?¡±


    ¡°Gideon, know your place!¡± Lysandra snapped as she clutched her sword tightly, giving Gideon a stern look.


    The Drakonic Commander intervened, sensing the mounting tension. "No, it is quite alright. I take no offense." His eyes remained locked on Gideon as he took a few steps closer.


    A maddened look took root in the dragonborn¡¯s eyes.¡±They take the shape of humans, like yourself.¡± He said darkly, maintaining eye contact with Gideon


    A deep silence enshrouded the group as everyone felt as if they were just slapped in the face. The flickering light of the burning town cast long, eerie shadows around them as the Drakonic Commander¡¯s words hung in the air.


    ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± The commander stepped past them, with a limp. ¡°I must see to the wounded.¡± His massive frame moved with a surprising grace despite his injury, his scaled tail leaving a shallow trail in the dusty earth.


    An uncomfortable pause followed his departure. The silence of the group was amplified by the distant cries and whimpers of the wounded seeking attention and the constant thunderous booms in the distance. The imposing presence of the Drakonic Commander had been a temporary barrier to those outside noises, now they seeped back into their awareness.


    Lysandra''s gaze followed the commander as he limped away, the sturdy thud of his footfalls in sync with the heartbeats echoing in her ears. The whiff of charred wood and the pungent smell of blood wafted in the air, permeating the atmosphere with a grim reminder of their situation. The destroyed village, now a shadow of its former self, seemed to weep silently under the bright moonlight, its agony merging with the desolate landscape around.


    Gideon broke the silence, his voice strained but steady. "What do ya think?." He asked, anxiously rubbing the leather strap of his axe. "Do any of you think the lizard is talkin¡¯ crazy-like?¡±


    No one said anything about Gideon¡¯s insubordination as his words hung in the air while the legion of Freelancers and Volunteers shifted nervously in the background.


    Yzael, her face shrouded in thought, finally spoke, her voice a soft whisper amidst the chilling breeze. "Whether a flight of madness or an unsettling truth, there¡¯s a resonance in his words that we cannot simply ignore.¡± She said grimly while turning towards the rift. ¡°We all saw those¡­ projectiles or whatever they were slam into the barrier.¡±


    Her finger pointed towards the dim, shimmering rift that hung in the air, the barrier holding back unknown darkness and despair. The ethereal glow emitted eerie shadows, casting gaunt silhouettes upon the broken earth, their forms a spectral dance of despair. Yzael continued, ¡°There is a power here beyond our understanding, a malevolence that even sends the dragons into a panic.¡± She continued with fear in her voice. ¡°The commander speaks of iron beasts, fearsome foes hidden in the guise of man and I, for one, believe him."


    A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered warriors, a current of unease weaving its thread through the crowd. The air hummed with tension and the echoes of bombardment in the distance, painting the sky orange with each explosion.


    Lysandra''s mind was in turmoil as she grappled with the weight of leadership. A scowl spread across her face and her hand clutched the pommel of her blade as the commander was faced with an impossible decision. Every fiber of her being told her to turn back before it was too late, but she was bound by contract and oath to march on and subjugate whatever lay on the other side.


    However, her contract never mentioned metallic horrors and magic that could contend with a damned sovereign, she sighed and looked up at the night sky. The majestic golden dragon the size of a mountain twisted and turned in the sky, fighting a swarm of almost imperceptible enemies in comparison to its size.


    Explosions against it¡¯s brilliant feather lit up the darkness. The dragon roared, a sound that vibrated through the bones of every being within miles, a haunting echo of fury. Amidst the dazzling dance, some of the sovereigns glimmering feathers fell like molten gold, scorching the land as it tried desperately to protect its horde from the relentless assault.


    Gideon''s hand rested on her shoulder, a solid, warm presence in the cold, chaotic night. ¡°We never signed up for this, Captain,¡± he murmured, his voice a low rumble, mirroring the distant, ominous booms.


    ¡°No, we did not,¡± she whispered back, her gaze still fixed on the aerial tragedy. ¡°But here we are, nonetheless. Bound by words inked on parchment and coin.¡±


    Lysandra could feel the eyes of her men and women on her, their uncertainty and fear mirroring her own, their need for direction a palpable weight on her already burdened shoulders.


    She turned from the celestial carnage, her gaze sweeping over the anxious faces of the freelancers in her employ. ¡°We will make contact,¡± she declared, her voice unwavering, her stance unyielding. ¡°Be it monsters of iron or flesh.¡±


    The woman spun hot on her heels and marched in the direction of the other legions, her cape billowing behind her as she moved with purposeful strides. The rhythmic tramp of her company''s boots followed, towards the horizon alight with the glow of explosions.


    Yzael reached in her pocket and pulled a single gold coin, an entire month''s pay and placed it into Gideon¡¯s hand. ¡°I haven¡¯t agreed to your little wager, but it seems you¡¯ve won.¡±


    -


    Sitting in the cockpit of an F-16C, Captain Kai ¡°Skunk¡± Wu tapped his fingers impatiently on the side of the cockpit while his plane idled on the highway of a makeshift runway. ¡°C¡¯mon, C¡¯mon, hurry the fuck up!¡± Captain Wu growled to himself as he watched the ground crew scramble to rearm and refuel his plane.


    The Captain watched as his wingmen taxied down the improvised tarmac, an orchestra of men and machines under still burning flares acting as runway lights. His eyes darted to his right where a small makeshift control tower had been hastily set up, and combat controllers worked frantically to manage the chaotic ballet of landing and launching aircraft.


    Headsets clamped to their ears, their voices never wavered as they directed pilots, coordinating the organized chaos with a calm precision that belied the dire circumstances. "Skunk 2, you''re clear for takeoff on Runway One. Skunk 4, taxi to holding area. Skunk 3, prepare for immediate launch after Skunk 2." Captain Wu¡¯s headset blared to life.


    Despite the chaos, there was a semblance of order as the roar of jet engines drowned out every other sound possible. Bright orange flames jutted out of the F-16 as it lurched forward, causing the highway beneath the aircraft to become a blur of gray and white.


    Wu shot a restless look at the ground crew still working to mount missiles on to his fighter as the rest of his flight took off one by one. The air vibrated with the hum of machinery and the crackle of communication devices. Despite his impatience, Wu couldn''t help but feel a surge of admiration for the ground crew and combat controllers. They worked like a well-oiled machine, each moving with purpose amidst the orchestration of warfare.


    His attention snapped back as he felt the final click of his armaments being secured. The crew chief signaled their completion with a thumbs up followed quickly with a salute. The Captain returned the favor as his canopy closed and his gloved hand gripped the throttle.


    Noticing the last plane of the flight was ready to go, Control radioed in, ¡°Skunk 1 runway 2, cleared for unrestricted take off. Happy hunting, dragon slayers.¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 8

    As Captain Wu pulled his aircraft alongside the rest of his flight, his radio crackled back to life as the Airborne Early Warning and Control (AWACS) transmitted orders to his headset. "All Skunk elements, ascend to angels 25, vector 2-2-0, maintain formation. Vul time, Vul time.¡±


    Wu felt his heartbeat echoed in his ears while gripping his flight stick tighter. Vul time or Vulnerability Time, was such an oddly poetic term for such a lethal context. In its essence, it refers to the period when one''s forces were most exposed to adversary action,  the window where risk was at its peak.


    Even after just taking off, they were already in range to engage these dragons or whatever the hell they were with long-range missiles. The F-16''s advanced radar systems and other sensors worked in synchrony, offering a high-resolution view of the airspace ahead. A swirl of colorful indicators and graphics painted his multi-functional displays, each symbol representing a different aircraft or projectile, friend or foe.


    The AWACS continued to relay vital information, their overarching view of the battle space invaluable in these trying moments. "Skunk 1, Darkstar, group bearing 2-2-0, 30, 28,000, hot hostile.¡± The AWACS code named Darkstar relayed the bearing, range, altitude and aspect of the enemy in the sky. ¡°All players, weapons free.¡±


    Wu''s eyes snapped to the radar screen as his hand instinctively moved to the weapon control system. He scanned the screen, identifying the group the AWACS referred to. He visualized the skies from the coordinates relayed, knowing the hostile targets were marked and verified by the AWACS in real-time.


    ¡°Copy that Darkstar, vector 2-2-0, 28,000, 30, hot hostile.¡± Wu''s voice was firm over the radio. His F-16 banked sharply, aligning its path with the mentioned vector. The other members of Skunk flight followed suit, their jet trails painting intricate patterns in the sky.


    ¡°Puke 1, north group, 32,000, 36,000, hot hostile.¡± The radio crackled to life again as the AWACS unstructured other unseen flights.


    Captain Wu and his flight  were now fully meshed within the battle''s intricate network, the communications channel turned into a flurry of directives, confirmations, and updates, each pilot a node within this complex web of airborne warfare.


    From the sound of things it was a complete free for all everywhere from 10,000 to 40,000 feet with every wing on the east coast joining in on the fray. The multitude of AWACS aircraft were trying to maintain control of the situation, but it was more akin to trying to control kites in a storm.


    The alien entities, with their agile and unpredictable movements, were defying traditional combat strategies, leaving even the most seasoned pilots baffled. The best solution was to keep their distance and snipe the little shits from the skies, but they had to close in for the merge to keep those bastards off the ground forces.


    Captain Wu¡¯s eyes darted back and forth between the radar screen and the screen of the integrated battle network. Everyone and their mom was here or already on their way. The F-35s, embedded in their various roles, were exploiting their advanced sensor suites to act as command and control, providing targeting solutions for everyone while sniping away at these things themselves.


    And soon, his own aircraft were provided targeting solutions, all focused on the giant golden fucker twirling in the sky.


    ¡°Skunk 1, Fox 3.¡±


    ¡°Skunk 2, Fox 3.¡±


    ¡°Skunk 3, Fox 3.¡±


    ¡°Skunk 4, Fox 3.¡±


    As the callsigns echoed in his ears at the same time, Captain Wu felt the familiar jolt of his F-16 releasing its payload. The advanced AIM-120 AMRAAMs, a quartet of radar-guided death, hurtled into the skies, homing in on the golden beast.


    The flights watched as the missiles disappeared in the distance only to have the gargantuan golden monster snap his head and liquify the damn things with its molten breath. This was not unexpected, but it was still frustrating. They had repeated the same song and dance for hours now and it had seemed that every one of these damned things had built in Radar Warning Receivers or RWRs.


    But as they flew closer to the fray, Captain Wu and his flight were forced to switch targets. ¡°Skunk 1 north group, maneuver.¡± He instructed his flight his intentions as he banked right towards a cluster of smaller dragons that were attempting to break through the main formation, desperately trying to break off and provide support for their struggling ground forces.


    But the flight of F-16¡¯s weren¡¯t going to allow any of them to do as they pleased as they sped through the turbulent skies, their radar systems locked onto the smaller, serpentine entities below. Captain Wu''s eyes were glued to his heads-up display (HUD), watching as the targeting reticles aligned with the swiftly moving opponents. The HUD displayed range, speed, and estimated impact time, constantly adjusting with each minuscule movement of the dragons.


    ¡°Skunk 1 Fox 3, northern, north group, 22,000¡± Captain Wu intoned calmly into his headset, feeling the shudder as another AMRAAM disengaged from the aircraft¡¯s underbelly, hurtling towards its target. The rest of his flight followed suit, their own missiles screaming through the atmosphere, leaving behind trails of white smoke as they rushed towards their targets at slightly different altitudes.


    Time seemed to stand still as the missiles streaked through the sky towards the massive monsters as they twisted and turned in an attempt to avoid the oncoming destruction. The pilots watched as the missiles struck true with each of their targets jerking and screeching in pain. One of the dragons went limp and fell from the sky as the others snapped their attention to the oncoming F-16¡¯s.


    In the cramped cockpit of his F-16, Skunk 2, also known as Lieutenant Kara ¡°Pampers¡± Bell, watched her radar screen as the dragons turned to meet their assault.


    As the dragons turned to face the oncoming jets, their heat signatures bloomed on his infrared detection system, their immense bodies throwing off heat like volcanic eruptions. They closed in fast, too fast for comfort, and Bell¡¯s hand moved with practiced ease as he prepared to engage. The screen split, one side showing the thermal signatures, the other a more conventional radar view. He noticed the creatures moving in formations that seemed almost strategic, almost military.


    ¡°Fox 3, fox 3, northern bound, north group, 24,000!¡± The woman called out as she let loose another AMRAAM. ¡°Heads up, north group, turning hot!¡±


    ¡°Skunk 1, tally, two dragons, left eleven high!¡± Wu¡¯s voice crackled over the comms as he alerted his wingman to the incoming threat dropping down from the left. ¡°Skunk 2 anchor, bullseye 2-7-0, 2 miles, 24,000!!¡±


    Captain Wu barked through the radio, his eyes darting between his HUD and his battle management system. ¡°Skunk 1, merge, hostile dragon!!¡±


    The call to ¡®merge¡¯ was a cue that they were in the thick of it now. It marked the phase where radar screens turned into a kaleidoscope of swirling icons, a swirl of friends and foes whirling in a chaotic aerial ballet. The skies were alive with the roars of jet engines, the snarl of dragons, and the staccato blasts of cannon fire.


    ¡°Skunk 2 break left, flare! Skunk 2 your 6 o¡¯clock, low, 1 mile, bandits on you! Skunk 3 press!¡± Captain Wu struggled to continue to issue commands as his aircraft banked sharply, trying to keep visual on Bell as she dumped flares in hopes to distract the beast.


    ¡°Skunk 3 is engaged!¡± Skunk 3 replied as they¡¯re F-16 afterburners lit up the night sky and it turned sharply, trying to get a lock on one of the dragons chasing Bell while his wingman slotted in behind the other. ¡°Skunk 3, Fox 2!¡±


    However, noticing it was being targeted, the trailing beast used its incredible agility and acceleration to dodge, leaving the missile to sail off into the void. The dragon then shifted its course with an otherworldly speed, doubling back to charge straight at Skunk 4 as they maneuvered to line up a missile.


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    ¡°Skunk 4, break! Break right, break right, now!¡± Lieutenant Bell''s urgent shout pierced the radio, a desperate bid to alert the vulnerable pilot.


    But it was a fraction of a second too late. Skunk 4¡¯s F-16 banked hard to the right, engines screaming as it tried to escape the incoming wrath. The dragon, a maelstrom of scales and wings, belched a torrent of plasma-like fire. The ethereal blue flame surged through the night air, a streak of deadly brilliance honing in on the scrambling jet.


    Skunk 4¡¯s aircraft was engulfed. The plasma fire enveloped the plane, the heat immediately slagging the cockpit. The once sleek and angular jet transformed into a molten wreck in milliseconds. The canopy bubbled and warped, sealing the pilot inside a cauldron of molten metal.


    No one had time to mourn the abrupt loss as one errant move could seal the fate of each pilot. The dragon that had incinerated Skunk 4 however, swooped low, savoring its deadly victory and twisted to douse the burning F-16 with another breath.


    Which proved a fatal mistake.


    Captain Wu was already turning his plane to engage the beast and lifted his head to put the dragon in the holographic head-up display in his helmet. Utilizing the quick, labored and sharp breaths of the anti-G straining maneuver, the man got a lock on the damned monster¡¯s massive thermal signature.


    He would see to it that the dragon¡¯s little celebration would be short-lived. ¡°SKUNK 1, FOX 2!¡±


    The missile left the rail with a violent hiss, its motor igniting a split-second later and propelling it towards the serpent-like behemoth in front of him. The advanced infrared seeker of the AIM-9x Sidewinder sailed up for almost a mile and homed in on the dragon¡¯s intense heat signature as it twisted and spiraled in a desperate attempt to evade.


    The monster howled in pain as the warhead detonated and scored a lucky hit on its wing. The explosion tore through the sinew and scale with a violent eruption of flame and shrapnel leaving the beast flailing in the air, marred by the smoking and tattered remnants of its once majestic wing. It tumbled through the sky, screeching in agony, struggling to regain control and eventually evened out as it glided away, but clearly crippled.


    ¡°Skunk 1, splash 1, left hand turn!¡± Wu shouted, braking hard left and trying to coordinate to avoid collisions with any of his wingmen as they twisted and turned in the battle space.


    But the skies were far from clear. The cacophony of battle was overwhelming, with aircraft and dragons mingled together as far as the eye could see. Captain Wu''s Sidewinder had hit its mark, but no one had the time or the opportunity to capitalize on the injured beast as more, even larger massive dragons, surged from the clouds, threatening to overrun their formation.


    Before they could be flanked, Captain Wu noticed the dragons suddenly began taking erratic evasive maneuvers. Streaks of white smoke blues blurred overhead as missiles sailed right past the dragons, but a few found their mark, causing the beast to howl in pain and anger.


    The exact same tactics he had used before with his flight was being mirrored by several flights of Navy F/A-18E Super Hornets as two of them flew a few hundred meters overhead, hauling ass to get the dragons to chase them while their wingmen sniped the monsters out of the sky.


    No matter where he looked, Wu could see the same scene playing out. The sky was an absolute cluster fuck of jets and dragons chasing either other. Missiles darted around, fire, ice and lightning crackled while claws and teeth ripped through the air, swiping at jets.


    If it weren¡¯t for the fact that Captain Wu was feeling the intense G-forces forcing the blood from his head as he maneuvered his F-16, he would have considered this a fever dream. The world had turned on its head, and the impossible was now the daily reality. Dragons, creatures of legend and mythology, were not only real but they were fucking engaging them in aerial combat.


    Snapping his flight stick to the left, Wu banked left, hard. His head kept track of Skunk two who was acting as the low man, baiting out beasts with a tempting target by firing a missile or two at them and breaking off. The fight took them deeper into the middle of the brawl and there he saw the visage of an F-22 with almost the entirety of its tail liquified by what looked like acid.


    Wu watched as the most deadly aircraft in the world corkscrewed and flipped wildly, dipping under the brawl before a bright burst of light illuminated the cockpit. The canopy explosively jettisoned, spinning off into the darkness and a heartbeat later, a figure was catapulted outwards as the pilot ejected.


    ¡°Wow, that was actually pretty fuckin¡¯ smart.¡± Captain Wu said to himself, his strained voice carried a mix of amazement and respect as his F-16 banked to avoid an F-15 that was in the middle of his own evasive maneuvers.


    In this chaotic mess they found themselves in, pilots needed to be a step ahead when the sky was full of teeth that would consider you a tasty mid-air snack.


    Turning his attention back to his Skunk 2, Wu found a pair of much smaller, but still brutal creatures on her six. Their wings were bat-like and sinuous, more agile than the larger dragons, with streamlined bodies that darted through the air. Their scales, while sturdy, lacked the dense resilience of their larger counterparts, making them MUCH more vulnerable.


    ¡°Guns, guns, guns!¡± The Captain yelled over the Net as he lined his jet up with the two and squeezed the trigger.


    The M61 Vulcan cannon attached to his fighter''s fuselage roared to life, sending a stream of hot 20mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds tore through their hides, sending splashes of blood spraying into the sky as their bodies jerked under the onslaught. The first beast had its wings shredded and body riddled with bullet holes as it plummeted to the earth below while the other had been cleanly cleaved in half.


    Captain Wu didn¡¯t have time to celebrate the two rapid kills. The skies were still swarming with threats and if he wanted to survive then he needed to maintain his edge all night.


    And it was going to be a LONG night.


    -


    Waiting patiently deep with a grove Coleman and his ODA watched as a strange lumbering creature that traipsed clumsily into the forest clearing. Its bulk was immense, similar to that of a dump truck, and it moved on six thick, stubby, spider-like legs.


    Despite the fur that covered its body, an unsettling exoskeleton formed a segmented armor over it, gleaming with an alien sheen. Elements of molten plasma or lava roiled beneath its chitinous plates, casting an eerie glow that painted the trees in sinister shades of crimson.


    Coleman couldn¡¯t tell whether the damn thing was a crustacean or an arachnid as its large, flat head was reminiscent of both. It bore heavy, frowning mandibles that clicked rhythmically and multiple eyes that glinted with that same otherworldly, molten light. It seemed out of place in the verdant, cool environment of the forest, appearing more as a creature carved from the heart of a volcano or nestled snug in some horrible desert.


    ¡°What the fuck am I looking at¡­?¡± Schwarz whispered with a troubled look, his eyes narrowed in disbelief as he peered through the foliage.


    "A nightmare," Coleman replied impassively.


    Even though he didn¡¯t look like it, the man shared Schwarz sentiment as his eyes remained glued to the odd spectacle unfolding in the clearing. Especially when the gigantic creature''s tail lifted towards the sky as its body nestled snugly into its dirt cradle.


    ¡°Jesus fucking Christ.¡± Elijah muttered with a disgusted and hateful look on his face. ¡°Kill it all with atomic hellfire.¡±


    As the ODA continued to observe the scene, the activity in the clearing intensified. The rabbit-eared beings began to form formations, seemingly preparing for some kind of assault. They moved with a strange synchronicity, as if controlled by a single mind, their movements fluid and precise. The smaller creatures from the beast scurried between the ranks of the rabbit-eared infantry, adding an additional layer of confusion to the bizarre scene.


    Elijah couldn''t help but let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "Nah bro, this is some Final Fantasy shit," he whispered with a shake of his head, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. Settling his rifle on a fallen log, he peered through the scope, trying to make out more details of the alien beings.


    Coleman, crouched nearby, kept his focus on the unfolding scene. ¡°Fantasy or not, we should probably take that thing out before we figure out what it does.¡± He turned to one of the marines who just settled in near them. ¡°Can we get ordinance on it? Tell fires it¡¯s a priority target.¡±


    The marine made a difficult face as he turned to Coleman. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, sir. Everyone¡¯s got a priority target.¡± He said, grabbing a hold of his push to talk. ¡°I¡¯ll try, but last I heard, artillery has been firing non stop. They¡¯ve practically melted their barrels, but I''ll try.¡±


    ¡°Worst they can do is tell us to fuck off.¡± Coleman nodded, appreciating the marine''s efforts despite the low odds. ¡°And if so, we¡¯ll hit ¡®em ourselves."


    While the forward observer worked on getting fire support, Coleman turned to Gunnery Sergeant Riley, the Marine NCO they were embedded with. "They¡¯re probably going to tell us to eat shit, so we¡¯re gonna have to do this the hard way." Coleman¡¯s voice was firm as he looked over to the monster that was starting to nestle in and violently shove dirt out of the way as if it were burrowing the bottom of its body into the ground.


    The Staff Sergeant silently motioned for his marines to gather around as he considered their options. His eyes were trained on the gigantic creature in the clearing, its unsettling movements creating an aura of anticipation and anxiety among the men.


    With the marines quietly hoarding around him in the thicket, Major Coleman looked at every face and smirked. If they were going to pull this off, he was going to need the most rabid and unhinged group of degenerates he could get his hands on. And luckily¡­ The Marine Corp were just the animal he needed.


    ¡°Alright, this is what we¡¯re gonna do¡­¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 9

    With precision, Coleman and his team glided through the thick underbrush, the shadows of the trees offering concealment as they approached the clearing from the flank. A squad of 15 marines, weapons held low and eyes sharp, shadowed the Special Forces ODA, moving silently and swiftly. All were ghostlike figures, invisible under the protective cloak of night guided by the white phosphorous glow of their night optical devices.


    The beast nestled in the clearing, a fiery scorpion-like creature, cast an eerie, magma-like light across the open ground, illuminating everyone and everything around it. Coleman, realizing that night vision was unnecessary, flipped his night optical device up, allowing the natural, albeit bizarre, light from the creature to illuminate the scene. His eyes peered through his weapon¡¯s optic as he focused on the handlers around the creature.


    There was something peculiar about them, he noticed, as they stood around the monstrosity like it was a piece of equipment, gesturing and engaging in a hushed yet seemingly urgent discussion. These beings bore rabbit-like ears atop their heads, delicately twitching as they conversed.


    Coleman narrowed his eyes as he continued to study his enemy. They were rather slim and petite beneath their armor for warriors and there seemed to be the subtle hint of feminine curves. However, their faces and forms were obscured enough to determine exactly what they were.


    Suddenly, one with an air of authority with a large bird-like creature perched in their arm bellowed out towards their comrades and gestured towards the surrounding treeline. With hasty odd salutes and gestures the beings ran and picked up their spears and started to spread out in every direction.


    Realizing that they were probably a security screen, Coleman pressed down on his push to talk, ¡°Status on our fire support?¡±


    A brief and tense pause followed before a voice edged with frustration, replied. "Just checked in with HQ. No-go on artillery, sir. They''re swamped, every asset''s engaged elsewhere.."


    A slew of curses and expletives left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he quietly turned to the others. ¡°Yep, they told us to eat shit.¡± He whispered, motioning to the Marines to take up positions along the edge of the tree line. ¡°We¡¯re doing this the old fashioned way.¡±


    Clutching his push-to-talk one more time, Coleman started issuing instructions for their plan B: Assaulting the damned thing themselves.


    "Looks like we¡¯re assaulting the damn thing," Coleman began, his voice steady and authoritative, a stark contrast to the irritation he felt inside. "We¡¯re gonna hit it hard, we¡¯re gonna hit it fast. Go on my mark."


    A reply of affirmation resounded through his headset as Coleman looked back through the optic to continue observing his enemy and honed in on the bird.


    Something about it seemed important, its eyes reflected an intelligent, almost otherworldly light. It was avian yet¡­. not quite. The thing certainly resembled a hawk or an eagle but it also possessed an almost spectral quality that set it apart from any creature of Earth.


    All of a sudden, a terse conversation ensued among the handlers, and with a fluid motion, the one with the bird lofted it into the night sky. The creature soared upwards with incredible speed and precision and the scorpion-like creature¡¯s tail shifted at the movement, quivering and shaking in anticipation.


    As if responding to a command, the tail shot upwards in the direction the bird had flown. Every muscle, every mechanical joint of the creature seemed in tune with the avian''s movements. Meanwhile the handler chanted a few words and twisted their hands and fingers with grace and fluidity. As the chant grew louder, the eye sockets of their helmet began to glow a milky white color.


    ¡°Call me crazy¡­ But what if that person is somehow¡­ controlling or seeing through the eyes of their bird thing?¡± Elijah whispered, using his own optic to focus on the handler''s glowing eyes. "And what if this thing is their indirect fire?."


    Coleman opened his mouth to say that was utterly batshit insane, but then immediately closed it again. That conclusion, as crazy as it sounded, was perfectly in line with all the weird fantasy bullshit they were dealing with. From flying and land dragons to feminine-looking, rabbit-eared people controlling a fucking lava scorpion. Why wouldn''t magical bird spotters and living artillery be a part of the package?


    "Yeah, it''s a stretch," Coleman admitted, scanning the clearing with renewed urgency. "But it''s starting to make a lot of sense. That bird gives them the eyes in the sky, and this... creature provides the firepower. We''re dealing with their version of a Joint Terminal Attack Controller (JTAC) with airborne reconnaissance."


    "That''s one hell of a combo," Bennett remarked with what sounded almost like admiration in his voice.


    "Yaaaaa¡­." Coleman noted, as his hand went to his radio. "All the more reason to take it out, as soon as possible.¡±


    The enemy security screen was meandering about, wandering closer to their position when suddenly the supposed spotter raised their head, their eerie, glowing eyes fixating on something in the distance. With a jarring scream, they began to yell something in a strange language before swiping her arms down in a chopping motion.


    Suddenly, the monstrous scorpion-like creature''s tail began to quiver, the segments undulating in an unsettling fashion. Its once-hard carapace seemed to balloon outwards, glowing with an internal, fiery light that built in intensity. And then, with an ear-splitting pop, a massive, searing glob of plasma rocketed upwards into the night sky, tracing a path of blazing light as it ascended.


    Coleman¡¯s gaze followed the plasma¡¯s trajectory, tracking its path as it soared into the abyss above. He and his team were witnessing a feat that was both mesmerizing and horrifying.


    ¡°Fuck me, you were right¡­¡± Schwarz whispered under his breath.


    ¡°Everyone turn on your EUD, start recording this shit!¡± Coleman barked in hush tones as he grabbed his End-User Device and started to prepare the 8k camera functionality. Schwarz, Bennett, and the rest of the team quickly activated their devices, ensuring to document every intricate detail of the bizarre spectacle unfolding before them.


    Just in time to, as another series of instructions from the spotter echoed out in the clearing. The spotter''s tone was intense, its hands weaving a sequence of animated gestures, conveying urgency to the monstrous scorpion creature. The alien beast, in turn, adjusted its tail and aimed at a slightly different angle.


    ¡°They¡¯re adjusting fire,¡± murmured Bennett as he narrowed his eyes.


    The ground began to tremble faintly, humming in resonance with the creature''s energy buildup. Once again, that same ominous glow emanated from the creature, spreading like a heat mirage as the air around it started to shimmer. The night, which had once been cold and dark, was now warm and bathed in the fiery light before another glob of plasma like substance shot out towards the sky.


    Having captured the event, Coleman swallowed hard and pressed down on his push to talk. ¡°Next time that thing balloons up, hit ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Roger that, waiting for your mark.¡± The platoon of marines on the other side of the treeline responded.


    Huddled amidst the brush and the looming shadows of the forest, Coleman¡¯s team watched an enemy patrol start to wander closer and closer to their positions. But they were slightly distracted as what they assumed was their leader, bellowed out another series of orders, causing the massive scorpion to rumbled and adjust its tail. Another surge of heat started to build within as the thing¡¯s tail started to balloon once more.


    ¡°Get ready, shits gonna get messy.¡± Coleman said to everyone around him before pressing down on his radio. ¡°Execute.¡±


    Two massive blasts erupted from the treeline facing the scorpion as anti-tank warheads slammed against the massive scorpion''s face, causing it to chitter and twist in pain.


    Almost immediately after the first round found its mark, the platoon of Marines engaged the enemy with overwhelming firepower and precision. The night was punctuated by the rapid chatter of machine gun fire and the sharp crackling of rifles. Tracers zipped through the night, cutting luminous paths towards the security screen and the mass of infantry around the creature.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Meanwhile, Coleman¡¯s ODA and his squad of marines waited.


    Their ambush point was meticulously chosen, a perfect spot that the enemy''s wandering patrol was aimlessly wandering towards earlier. Now, with the security detail charging towards the larger fray, the coast was clear for Coleman''s team to make their move.


    Two operatives further down the line, each armed with MAAWS, swiftly moved into position, taking direct aim at the creature¡¯s vulnerable tail.


    The impact was instantaneous; a deafening explosion erupted as the energy within the tail was forcefully and violently released. Liquid fire sprayed outwards, cascading over everything and everyone nearby. The handlers snapped out of their arcane rituals and turned towards the fighting and prepared another set of spells aimed directly at the offensive treeline. But it was far too late, once the second set of warheads hit chants turned to shrill screams of agony as they were engulfed in the searing, molten discharge.


    Coleman took a quick, decisive look at the battlefield. The enemy was off-balance, their ranks were in disarray, but they were quickly starting to organize and erecting their strange magical barriers.


    Now was the time to strike.


    "Light ¡®em up" Coleman yelled, signaling his team''s turn. The other side of the treeline burst with life as machine guns ripped through the flank of the reeling otherworldly invaders.


    Tube launched grenades fired into the mass of combatants huddling together for protection. Their detonations spread chaos and disarray, opening gaps for the flanking marines to exploit.


    Suddenly the scorpion chittered and screeched in pain and distress as more warheads detonated against its exoskeleton. Turning away from the battlefield, it began a frenzied attempt to escape, its massive legs pounded the ground, crushing unfortunate soldiers underfoot, adding more chaos among its own ranks.


    With the rout of their artillery piece, caused a domino effect as formations crumbled and discipline was abandoned.


    "Keep the pressure on, move!" Staff Sergeant Riley yelled, urging his Marines forward. The Marines, seeing their enemy in disarray and seizing the momentum, became a force of nature. They moved through the treeline keeping lock step with the routing enemy, only stopping to pick off those who tried to rally and put up a resistance.


    Squad leaders communicated amongst themselves, identifying points of contention and guiding their fireteams forward to ensure the enemy had no avenue of escape or regrouping. From the main line, the platoon of Marines, led by Lieutenant Mitchell, bounded forward in a well-coordinated maneuver, making sure the invader¡¯s were in deadly range and barriers were always being peppered by machine gun fire.


    The once confident otherworldly force was now trapped; if they turned to run, their only means of protection would flicker out and they would be subsequently mowed down. But if they stayed where they were, their barriers would eventually buckle under the sustained gunfire, leaving them exposed.


    But it would seem the decision would be made for them as a marine took aim with his M3E1 Multi-purpose Anti-armor Anti-personnel Weapon System and pulled the trigger.


    The fin-stabilized projectile cut through the air in a gentle arc, heading straight for the dense cluster of enemy combatants. Upon impact, a deafening explosion resonated across the battlefield, sending a shockwave that shattered the invaders'' magical barriers like glass under a sledgehammer.


    Coleman and his ODA winced as he saw the mass of soldiers drop like flies under the relentless barrage of machine gun fire. However, the sight didn''t stop Coleman for long. "Move, move!" he yelled to his team, pressing forward, quickly getting on top of the enemy, ending anyone who still moved.


    The ever-so aggressive marines had the same idea and quickly pressed forward, their shouts mixed with the sporadic bursts of their weapons. Once upon the enemy, a new, eerie quiet swept across the clearing save for the still burning hisses of those drenched in plasma, the distant explosions in the background and dying moans of the defeated.


    Marines and the ODA members alike regrouped and scanned the area for any remnant as the smell of burnt flesh, molten metal, and expended gunpowder hung heavy in the air.


    ¡°Clear!¡± The marines shouted one by one as everyone took a more relaxed, but still ready posture.


    Coleman took a moment to survey the battlefield. Dozens of bodies of the strange beings were scattered everywhere, along with their equally strange equipment.


    ¡°These are women.¡± Elijah¡¯s voice suddenly cut through the quiet, as he stared down at one of the beings with its helmet in his hand.


    The entirety of the marines they were embedded with and the rest of the team turned to him, puzzled expressions on their faces. One of the Marines, crouched next to a body and pulled off their helmet. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned. He¡¯s right.¡± The man muttered with furrowed brows.


    Staff Sergeant Riley pulled the helmet of another fallen alien and stared down at the face. The being had a strikingly human visage, but what set them apart were the long, semi-droopy rabbit ears that sat atop their heads. They were covered in a soft, velvety fur that matched the color of their hair.


    "My God," whispered Riley, his rough fingers gently touching one of the ears. "They look... so much like us."


    A murmur spread through the troops as more of the rabbit-eared humanoids were revealed as more helmets were pulled off. Even the Special Forces soldiers found themselves taken aback by the uncanny similarity.


    Kneeling by a still coughing rabbit woman, a dark skinned man carrying an M240 spoke up. ¡°I thought we were being invaded by dragons and lizard people.¡± Master Sergeant Bernie Lister, the ODA¡¯s Weapons Sergeant turned to the rest of his team. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s what we¡¯ve been mostly fighting so far. The hell with this shit?¡±


    Elijah crouched down beside Bernie and pulled off his medpack. ¡°Should I treat her?¡± He asked, looking at Coleman.


    Coleman went silent as he looked around. ¡°Uhhh¡­ I, uhh¡­ I honestly don¡¯t know.¡± He responded by scratching his beard in confusion. ¡°How would we know whatever you do to her won''t just outright kill her?¡±


    ¡°Does that even matter?¡± Elijah lifted an eyebrow, unzipping his medpack. ¡°I mean, she¡¯s either going to bleed out or have a severe allergic reaction to whatever I give her.¡±


    Narrowing his eyes, Coleman''s gaze sharpened. "You mean to experiment on her?"


    ¡°No? What the fuck?¡± Elijah looked up at his team leader in both outrage and confusion. ¡°I mean to save her, man. Jesus, look!¡± Elijah pointed to the hyperventilating rabbit-woman as she stared up at the men, ¡°She''s scared, in pain and dying. I can either treat her and hopefully she lives, or just let her bleed all over the place.¡±


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to deal with any Hague bullshit, Eli.¡± Coleman replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    Another hush descended upon the clearing as Elijah¡¯s brow knitted and his eyes turned side to side in contemplation. ¡°Are aliens even covered in the Geneva Convention?¡±


    Master Sergeant Bernie chuckled under his breath, breaking the tension. ¡°Now there''s a question I never thought I¡¯d ever fucking hear. International law and Amazoinian space rabbits.¡± His laugh grew louder as his hand hit face. ¡°What kind of fucked up fever dream is this?¡±


    The marine who had earlier revealed the humanoid¡¯s ears, piped in, "I think the convention covers ''persons'', doesn''t it? Now, whether or not the international community would recognize them as such is another debate entirely."


    ¡°You can¡¯t fuck it Jackson, you¡¯ll get space aids.¡± Another marine joked and drew out chuckles from the rest of their platoon.


    Jackson however, took it in stride. ¡°Hey look, I aint said I would, but.¡± He made the famous hand gesture from one of the hosts from Ancient Aliens on the History Channel made. ¡°But, aliens.¡± This led to an uproar of laughter, easing the tension in the clearing.


    ¡°Whatever, man¡­ Patch her up I guess.¡± Coleman finally relented, shaking his head at the absurdity of their situation before turning to Staff Sergeant Riley. ¡°And make sure none of them fuck it, please.¡±


    Staff Sergeant Riley''s expression shifted from amusement to the stern demeanor for which he was known. His eyes honed in on Jackson. "Jackson!" He barked, utilizing the classic Marine Corps ¡®knife hand¡¯ gesture, pointing directly at him. "You¡¯re pissing off the Snake Eaters! Don¡¯t diddle the fuckin¡¯ space rabbit or you¡¯ll be licking shit off all the latrines!¡±


    Jackson''s grin faltered a bit under the Staff Sergeant''s fierce glare. "Aye aye, sarge," he replied, trying to keep his composure.


    The Sergeant continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered men. ¡°And that goes for all of you. You¡¯re all makin¡¯ us look bad, so stop being fuck ups for once in your god damn lives!¡± The intensity of his tone made his marines flinch.


    Elijah immediately got to work on the rabbit woman''s injuries. She seemed to be conscious but in obvious distress. The alien''s ears twitched erratically, and her large, glossy eyes stared up at him with fear and pain. After stripping her armor, his hands steadily as he assessed her injuries and started treating her.


    A piercing scream echoed throughout the hall as the medic shoved his fingers into a still bleeding gunshot wound. Coiling his medical dressing, Elijah pushed it firmly inside to stanch the bleeding. The rabbit-woman¡¯s legs thrashed, another cry escaping her lips.


    ¡°Quit your yappin¡¯, if you¡¯re screamin¡¯ you ain¡¯t dyin¡¯.¡± The medic said, causing everyone around him to cringe. A few of the marines turned away, their faces pale, clearly unaccustomed to such up-close trauma work.


    "God damn," muttered Coleman, turning towards Staff Sergeant Riley. ¡°Have your boys and your corpsman sweep the area for more wounded,¡± suggested Coleman, turning to the rest of the marines. "If there are more like her, then we should find them and radio for evac.¡±


    A nod came from Sergeant Riley. "Roger that, we could use as much intel as we can get.¡± Spinning around, Riley looked at the rest of his marines. ¡°Alright, you useless fucks! You heard the man, go look for any survivors and make sure Baptiste doesn¡¯t get shanked!¡±


    The men sprang into action, while Coleman shook his head and looked down at his still recording End-User Device. Bringing his hand to his radio, the man switched channels to talk to HQ.


    ¡°Warmonger, this is Baron, be advised we have POW¡¯s and critical intel. Requesting immediate evac, over.¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 10

    The forces dug in around New Philadelphia did their best to prepare themselves against the veritable horde on their doorstep, but as the saying goes, when it rains, it pours.


    ¡°Gunner! Sabot, walker! Traverse left!¡± Staff Sergeant Jones, commander of an M1A2 Abrams tank named "Aggravated Assault," bellowed over the cacophony of battle. The turret swiveled as the gunner, Sergeant Alphonso Hendricks, got the mind boggling quadruped land dragon into his sights.


    The beast sprinted across the battlefield with frightening speed, closing the gap on an M2A4 Bradley and ripped the turret off after slagging another Abrams with its plasma-like breath. "Identified!" Hendricks yelled, his hands gripping his controls tightly.


    ¡°FIRE!¡± Jones commanded as the beast snapped its head towards them


    ¡°ON THE WAY!¡± Hendricks responded, squeezing the trigger.


    The tank roared, sending a fin stabilized depleted uranium dart hurtling straight towards the creature. The projectile hit the dragon square in the chest, sending up a shower of sparks and what looked like dark red blood as it was sent stumbling back. However, the creature wasn¡¯t down for the count and let out a roar of agony and fury that echoed across the battlefield as it tried to regain its composer


    ¡°SABOT UP!¡± Private Derrick Miller, the loader, yelled, signaling that another round was ready.


    ¡°RE-ENGAGE!¡± The commander yelled.


    The Abrams turret realigned with the monstrosity as it struggled to get back up. The beast dubbed a walker, now bearing a deep gaping wound in its chest, managed to lock eyes with them. With another snarl, the creature moved to charge at the offender, but first it had to close the massive gap between it and the abrams.


    ¡°On the way!¡± Hendricks called out as he squeezed the trigger again as the entire tank shuddered.


    The projectile was on target, impacting the beast''s right front limb, tearing through the scales and flesh beneath. It let out a deafening roar of pain, collapsing on its wounded limb, leaving a trail of its blood in its wake


    ¡°Up!¡± Miller announced, loading another round 40 pound projectile as swiftly as the first.


    The walker, despite its grievous injuries, was not about to back down. With its remaining strength, it bellowed and lunged towards the tank in an effort to cover the distance with surprising speed for its injuries.


    ¡°IT¡¯S STILL FUCKIN¡¯ ALIVE! RE-ENGAGE!!¡± Jones yelled, his voice echoing through their headsets and the steel hull of the tank.


    ¡°On the way!¡± The Gunner responded instantly, letting loose another round of fury.


    This one seemed to do the trick as violent sparks erupted from the creature''s chest, sending it face first into the ground. The crew of the Abrams watched as the monster tumbled ass over head, its massive form rolling like a juggernaut just a hundred meters away.


    But before anyone could even think of celebrating the take-down of the walker, Staff Sergeant Jones''s voice cut through the crew''s momentary relief. "Next target, infantry out in the open. AMP! Gunner, traverse left!¡±


    ¡°AMP, UP!¡± Miller announced as he swiftly placed the Advanced Multi-Purpose shell into the firing chamber.


    The turret of the tank swiveled and the targeting reticle hovered over a decent group pushing forward with a shimmering blue shield projected just in front of them. The strange barrier was lit up like a firecracker as tracer fire from almost every direction slammed into it and other similar shields protecting different units of the alien forces. The barrage, while intense, seemed to only minimally affect the enemy¡¯s advance.


    Beyond the initial infantry wave, more of those daunting walkers prowled the battlefield, flanked by a new type of creature. These quadrupeds bore a peculiar resemblance to a hybrid of hyenas and rhinos, yet they were much larger and sported a metallic sheen on their fur. But what was most frightening was they had their own distinctive shield that glowed with a reddish tint. These creatures led the charge, creating a path for the following infantry.


    However, they had to take care of the infantry that managed to get within spitting distance first. These¡­ magic users were equally as dangerous and they needed to be dealt with.


    ¡°Identified!¡± Hendricks replied, spotting one of the shimmering barriers which seemed to be powered by several of these mages, standing in formation and channeling their energies into the protective field. ¡°On the way!¡±


    The tank shuddered as a deafening blast illuminated the darkness of night and a bulbous fin stabilized round tore through the air.


    -


    Holding on for dear life, Yzael put everything she had into keeping her shield up as the world around her turned into a blur of chaos and noise. Drenched completely in sweat, the woman¡¯s hands were outstretched, her fingers moving intricately, manipulating the energies around her. The chants she murmured combined with the similar ones from other mages, were barely enough to keep away the small streaks of death that slammed into their only form of protection.


    Behind her barrier, Lysandra barked orders to get the small band of Freelancers to regroup and reorganize behind her as the incessant chatter of death streaked through the field. Everywhere she looked, anyone that strayed too far from their designated mage would subsequently be torn apart by infernal magics that spat fire and metal.


    ¡°Do not stray from your mages!¡±Lysandra shouted, her voice echoing over the battlefield. ¡°Healers! Use the opening to bring the wounded back to safety!¡±


    Yzael, her face a mask of concentration and fatigue, grunted as a nearby explosion shook her shield violently. The force of the impact nearly knocked her off her feet, her eyes widening in alarm. Sparks and embers flickered around the perimeter of the barrier as it wavered momentarily.


    "C-Commander! They''re not letting up," Yzael gasped, the strain evident in her voice. ¡°I¡­! I don¡¯t know how much longer I can keep this up."


    Lysandra, ever the pillar of strength, cast a concerned glance at the young mage before spinning around. ¡°Elara! Rhonan! To Yzael''s side! Form a bulwark!" Lysandra ordered, gesturing to two nearby mages who were both deep in their own protective spells, defending smaller pockets of their comrades.


    The two mages nodded and, with clear effort, moved their barriers closer to Yzael''s, allowing their shields to join with hers, combining their power. The result was a brighter, stronger shield that pulsed with energy, covering a larger area.


    Lysandra then quickly went to Yzael''s side, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Stay with us, Yzael. You''re doing great. With the three of you working together, we''ll have a stronger shield."


    However, Yzael looked hesitant as she turned to Gideon.


    "By merging our barriers, we become a tempting target. It¡¯s the very definition of ¡®putting all our eggs in one basket¡¯," The hulking man replied, casting a wary glance at the dug in metal beasts dotting the distance. They were rolling in, letting loose a billow of fire before quickly treating.


    Biting her lip,Lysandra¡¯s gaze flitted towards a nearby structure. Just beyond their position, the beginnings of a town loomed tantalizingly close and the prospect of shelter and defensive structures was just within reach.


    If they could just hold up a little longer¡­


    ¡°We have no choice! If Yzael exhausts herself, we¡¯re all dead!¡± Lysandra exclaimed, her eyes flashing with urgency. "We have to make it to that town. It''s our best chance, especially when there was something that could actually slay the Empires Drakes!¡± She gestured towards the giant Land Drake skidding across the ground after being hit by god knows what.


    Doubt lingered in some eyes, but they also realized they didn¡¯t have any other choice. The onslaught they were enduring from this realm''s means of war was just too brutal, too overwhelming.


    ¡°Hurry! Push!¡± Lysandra bellowed, pointing towards a build they were nearing. ¡°We¡¯re almost there-¡±


    The commander''s voice was abruptly cut off by a world shattering explosion that upturned the very earth.


    Yzael couldn¡¯t quite see, but she could feel herself flipping through the air like a ragdoll, and each second seeminged to stretch into eternity. The protective barrier they had maintained had shattered like a stone passing through glass and when she hit the ground with a sickening thud, all the air she had left in her lungs forced its way out.


    As the mage tried to catch her breath, the taste of blood and dust filled her mouth. The weight of the realization crashed upon her: her shield had failed, and they were now vulnerable to the onslaught of this alien world.


    In her mind, she screamed herself to get up and use what was left of her pitiful amounts of power, but her body refused to listen. The chilling tendrils of shock and fatigue threatened to drag her into darkness, but Yzael used what remained of her consciousness and opened her eyes.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.Carnage surrounded her.


    The once-organized ranks of her comrades were turned into a bloody mess of armor, flesh, and charred ground. Broken bodies, some recognizable, some not, lay interspersed with the twisted remnants of their equipment. The land was scarred with craters, and smoky tendrils rose from smoldering fires that consumed anything they touched.


    Sounds became muted, as if she was underwater. Yzael expected the cries of pain and clashing, but the only thing she could hear was silence and the incessant chattering barks of this realm''s weapons.


    Nearby, a soldier desperately tried to stem the bleeding from a wound on his comrade, using a piece of cloth to press against the open gash. He whispered words of comfort, his eyes darting around nervously, aware of the ever-present danger. Just as he managed to tie a makeshift tourniquet, a burst of streaking lights cut through the air, peppering the man. The soldier gave a choked gasp,his body jerking with the force of the impact before collapsing heavily next to his already injured comrade, lifeless eyes staring into the sky.


    ¡°... Why¡­?¡± Yzael whispered as a lump formed in her throat. She was a Freelancer, so she had been prepared for death ever since taking up this profession, but the cold, mechanical cruelty of this new world''s warfare was something she had never fathomed.


    It was so¡­ Impersonal.


    Suddenly, Yzael felt strong arms wrap around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The world around her blurred as she was rapidly carried towards the building they had been so desperately trying to reach.The sensation was so familiar, the woman felt like she could simply close her eyes and allow the ills of the day to simply wash away, but she resisted the urge, keeping her eyes wide open.


    Yzael recognized that powerful grip, immediately knew that it could only be that lovable brute, Gideon. A warm sense of gratitude washed over her as she took in his grim, battle-worn face. There was a history between them, a bond forged in countless monster extermination jobs and bounty hunts, and his presence now brought her a momentary peace.


    As they reached the relative safety of the building, Gideon gently set her down against a crumbling wall, and slumped down himself, groaning in pain.


    ¡°G-Gideon¡­!¡± Yzael moaned weakly as she reached out. ¡°You¡¯re hurt!¡±


    The large warrior gave her a weary smile in return. ¡°Yep¡­ So are you, lass.¡±


    Her eyes darted to her side where she felt a damp warmth; blood was seeping through her robes. She had been so focused on her magic and the situation at hand that she hadn''t noticed the injury before, but now the pain was starting to set in.


    ¡°W-where¡¯s Lysandra?¡± Yzael''s voice was laced with concern as she attempted to push herself up.


    ¡°Honestly¡­?¡± Gideon murmured, gently pressing her back down. He quickly ripped a piece of cloth from his own attire, folding and pressing it against her wound to stanch the bleeding. "I ain¡¯t got the faintest clue. Soon as I came to, I grabbed you and made a break for it."


    A pained moan escaped Yzael''s lips as the pressure Gideon applied to her wound sent jolts of pain throughout her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the situation. "We really messed up, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    Gideon looked through the hole in the wall and saw the devastation that used to be their comrades. The man fell silent as he felt Yzael¡¯s hand grip his own.


    ¡°Gideon¡­¡± The mage choked out. ¡°Are we going to die?¡±


    Another bout of silence ensued as the weight of the question hung in the air, thick and palpable. The incessant bark of otherworldly weaponry echoed through the night accompanied by earth shattering explosions that detonated not too far away.


    Yzael''s eyes, clouded with pain and fear, sought solace in his. "G-Gideon¡­I don''t want to die," she whispered, her voice breaking.


    The large man finally noticed her gaze as it lingered on the decimated bodies just outside. The woman¡¯s gaze was honed in on one of the mages that had come to assist them, specifically Elara. The woman was staring lifelessly to the side, her body blown completely in half.


    Shifting his position to blow the view, Gideon pulled her into a tight embrace, shielding her as best he could from the horrors. "I won''t let anything happen to you," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion.


    Turning his head towards a blown out window, Gideon saw that the Empire had finally released the Yoxen being held in reserve. These fearsome beasts, with their large, powerful frames and thick, shimmering metallic fur, were already being pulled back. Their retreat was orderly but rapid, the sounds of their growls mixing with the commands shouted by their handlers caused the only glint of hope in Gideon¡¯s eyes to fade.


    A part of him wanted to succumb to his own despair, but the weight of Yzael in his arms anchored him. Her breaths, shallow and quick, reminded him that they were still alive, still fighting, and as long as they had breath in their lungs, they had a chance to survive.


    ¡°Gideon, it¡¯s quiet¡­¡± Yzael said, peering around his massive form. ¡°D-Did we manage to push up?¡±


    Gideon warped his arm around Yzael¡¯s waist and lifted her to her feet and did his best to ignore her cries of pain. Looking over his shoulder through the hole in the wall and the broken square windows, he saw that the battlefield had come to a momentary standstill. Smoke and dust danced in the night, painting a grim picture of the devastation they had just survived.


    "No," Gideon murmured, surveying the wreckage. "I think they''re regrouping. Or maybe...they broke through on another front."


    Leaning against Gideon for support, Yzael followed his gaze. "Where are the others?" she whispered, hoping for some sign of allies amidst the smoke and ruins.


    ¡°We gotta go.¡± Gideon''s tone held an urgency that snapped her attention back to him. Even in the dim light, she could see the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. ¡±These demons will soon be upon us. We can¡¯t stay here.¡±


    Yzael swallowed hard, nodding in agreement. The pain in her abdomen was throbbing constantly, but all she could do was endure it for now. ¡° O-Okay¡­" she stammered with a shaky voice.


    With a grunt of exertion from his own wounds, Gideon wrapped his arm around Yzael and helped her to the other side of the building, hoping to find a safe exit. They stumbled through a corridor, guided only by the meager moonlight filtering through broken windows. But the light from the broken glass coupled with her concussion seemed to play tricks on Yzael''s vision. The very shadows seemed to pop out and the woman physically jumped every time they rounded the corner.


    The living room was barely intact, its walls pocked with tiny holes and furniture lay scattered in disarray, overturned and charred. As they moved forward, the muted sounds of outside warfare became slightly clearer. Drawn to the window by an instinct he couldn¡¯t resist, Gideon cautiously peered through the tattered curtains.


    That''s when he saw them. The massive iron behemoths that the Drakonic Commander warned them about.


    Their heads swiveled as if they were scanning the horizon for anything else to breathe its unholy wrath on. The monsters moved steadily through the shattered streets, accompanied by groups of soldiers in strange foliage-colored clothes. Their weapons were unlike any they had encountered before.


    One of the soldiers shifted, giving Gideon and Yzael a look at the long and slender object made of a dark, gleaming metal in their hand. The design was foreign and intimidating, with no blades or arrows in sight. Instead, it had a cylindrical front and a curious protruding stock that the soldier nestled into his shoulder.


    ¡°Those things must be enchanted," Yzael whispered, her voice laced with both awe and terror. "They release their fury without incantation, no visible spellwork. It''s like they''ve captured raw power in that slender metal staff."


    Gideon scowled as they pushed past the window towards what looked like a door. "As fascinating as it is, I ain¡¯t fixin¡¯ to stay and find out how it works.¡± He said, pulling Yzael along.


    The woman groaned in pain and clenched her teeth as they hurried through the house, but she mustered enough strength to keep up with Gideon''s brisk pace. Every step she took sent jolts of pain up her body, making her more aware of the extent of her injuries.


    When they reached the door, Gideon tried the handle, it wouldn''t budge. He cursed under his breath as he stared at the strange and unfamiliar mechanism. Unlike the doors of their world, which either had simple latches or intricate magical locks, this door had a small metal slit and an oddly shaped rotating knob.


    "Am I really going to be bested by a damned door?" Gideon grumbled, his fingers fumbling with the foreign device.


    However, in the middle of his fidgeting, Yzael shook his arm urgently as her face drained of any semblance of color. ¡°Gideon!¡± She hissed softly, pointing to the window. "Gideon, They''re coming this way!"


    Without another thought, Gideon grabbed Yzael¡¯s sword from its scabbard, the blade gleaming with a deadly promise. Set in his stance, Gideon¡¯s every muscle tensed as he prepared for what he believed would be their final stand. Yzael, even with her injuries, gripped her dagger and summoned the last of her energy for the fight as tears started to roll down her face.


    Just as the first soldier stepped into the threshold, a resonant hum of magic pulsed from the opposite direction. Bright, radiant light burst forth, momentarily turning the night into day. The soldiers, caught off-guard, immediately turned their attention to this new threat, opening fire with their metallic staves and causing the all too familiar snaps of death.


    With the soldiers distracted, Gideon saw his chance. Without a moment''s hesitation, he pulled back his leg and slammed his boot into the door. The strange wood, already weakened from the day''s conflicts, gave way under his force, and the door swung open violently.


    With Yzael''s sword in one hand, he scooped up the injured mage with the other, literally carrying her like a sack of potatoes as the hulking man darted to the other building. With the soldier''s attention preoccupied by an  obstinate stronghold, Gideon and Yzael slipped deeper into the town covered by the shouting of commands and coordinated assault.


    Then, just as the two reached the adjacent building a roaring sound that seemed to shake the very earth, causing them to stumble the colossal iron beast released a devastating blast, blowing apart a massive section of the targeted building''s wall, sending chunks of debris hurtling through the air.


    Yzael screamed in pain as she clutched at her wound after they crashed through the front door. ¡°I¡­! I think I¡¯m losing too much blood!¡±


    Pulling Yzael to a more sheltered corner, away from the shattered windows, Gideon brushed the mage¡¯s blood soaked hands away to take a closer look at her wound. It was bleeding, yes, but not as profusely as he initially thought. The small projectiles seemed to have cut straight through her torso, but they didn''t seem life-threatening.


    At least for now.


    However, the shock and pain seemed to have made Yzael''s mind race to the worst-case scenario. ¡°Gideon! There¡¯s¡­ There¡¯s so much blood¡­!¡± Yzael''s voice quivered, her usually vibrant eyes clouded with fear. ¡°It hurts so much¡­ I can''t- I can''t die here!¡±


    Gideon held her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "You are not going to die. This wound is bad, but it''s not fatal."


    "You''re stronger than this, Yzael," Gideon murmured, tenderly stroking her hair, stained with the grime of their flight. "I¡¯ve seen you face wyverns and chimeras, so I know you will prevail, just as you have before."


    Yzael''s breathing hitched, and her pale face was streaked with dirt and sweat. The mention of their previous encounters, those moments of life or death they had danced with countless times before, brought back memories of triumphant victories and narrow escapes.


    A shaky laugh escaped her lips. "Wyverns and chimeras. Seems almost quaint now, doesn''t it?" she replied, attempting a weak smile.


    Gideon chuckled softly in response, before turning back to battle behind them just as it went quiet. ¡°Come, we need to keep going.¡±


    Another moan of pain left Yzael''s mouth as they stepped back into the chaos outside, leaving the semblance of safety left behind. With the flicker of hope of reaching their allies, they trudged forward through the war-torn streets of this damned city while the whistles of death resounded overhead only to detonate in the distance from where they came.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 11

    There was a complicated mix of feelings going through Lysandra¡¯s head as she stared up at the night sky.


    If she was forced to name one specific emotion, then it would have been most likely despair. Or would it be regret? Guilt was another strong contender in the whirlwind that was tearing through her. Each memory, every decision she had made, weighed heavily on her chest, pressing her deeper into the cold ground she lay upon.


    The stars twinkled with an indifferent beauty, their light seemingly mocking her feeble existence even though they seemed more blurry than they ought to have been. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lysandra noted the irregularity of their shimmering light, their usual clarity smeared into near obscurity by her struggling vision.


    But she was imprisoned within her own torment, the stars'' distortions a mere footnote amid the cascade of haunting faces. Echoes of her soldiers'' laughter, the reassuring pats on the back, the trust in their eyes were all vaporized with a single bad decision and a flash of light.


    Those eyes, once so full of life and excitement of a new campaign, were now hollow, staring at her accusingly with lifeless eyes. Lysandra hadn¡¯t noticed it, but she had turned her head to see the vacant look of one of the mages she had called to help with the barrier.


    Or at least whatever remained of her..


    ¡°Elara¡­¡± Lyandra croaked, reaching out to the barely recognizable body that was mangled by the explosion.


    She had invited this doom up to her, she invited this doom up to them all. It was the only memory she could recall, and every moment of it was agonizingly clear. They were so close to shelter, the seductive lure of safety just within reach, and her hasty decision to bolster Yzael and group into a tight formation had sentenced them all to a grisly demise.


    "We¡¯re almost there, we just need to hold on a little longer," she had told them, her voice filled with false confidence. "Once inside, we can fortify our defenses and tend to our wounded."


    But they never made it.


    ¡°A fool¡­¡± She weakly whispered to no one in particular. A fool had gleefully presented their enemy with an opportunity that couldn¡¯t resist, turning hope into tragedy.


    Lysandra wanted to cry, but her body wouldn''t respond. Every fiber of her being screamed at her that she should be in excruciating pain, but all she felt was numbness that she almost mistaken for oblivion if she hadn¡¯t opened her eyes.


    But something was off¡­


    Her vision was strangely occluded, a patchy, nebulous fog hung in one half of her sight while the other was a blurred smear of light against the dark void. Confusion started to set in her semi-conscious mind as she mustered what was left of her will power and semi lucid state to bring a hand to her left eye.


    It felt like an eternity to Lysandra as she attempted to command her body to respond. With agonizing slowness, her right hand began to tremble, crawling inch by inch up her battered and marred magical armor. The weight of her limb was nearly unbearable, and it was only with sheer force of will that she continued to guide it upward.


    Her fingertips brushed against her face, the sensation distant and muted, like a dream within a dream. But what made her breath catch in her throat was the wet, sticky warmth that her fingers encountered. Blood, she realized. And a lot of it.


    The cold wind whispered secrets to her as she probed further, coming to a jarring stop when she felt a jagged gash across her brow and cheek, cutting deeply into the flesh and ending just above her now unresponsive left eye.


    A soft chuckle forced its way up her throat, but even that simple action seemed an insurmountable task in her weakened state. The once renowned Thorned Rose, the cruel beauty of Aldenshore had been reduced to this. The idea would have been laughable if it wasn''t so heart-wrenchingly tragic. Her fame and reputation, built over countless battles and bounties, undone by a foolish gamble. She who had always prided herself on seeing everything, on being one step ahead, was now literally half-blind.


    The dampened sound of shuffling feet and barks of orders interrupted her thoughts. They sounded faint and distant, but Lysandra knew they were alarmingly close. Her heart rate quickened and she started hyperventilating as the blurred outline of someone came into view.


    She was trapped in her own body.


    ¡°Hey we got a live one!¡± A voice called out in a tongue Lysandra couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of.


    A pair of boots stopped in front of her, and Lysandra lifted her head with great effort, squinting to focus on the figure above her. Her vision, albeit compromised, allowed her to see something entirely baffling.


    The man wasn''t armored in the familiar steel and leather of the knights or warriors she had encountered in her time. Instead, he wore what looked like a strange woven fabric, colored with irregular patterns of earthy hues. His torso was adorned with a dense, hard vest, clearly protective in nature, but unlike any armor she had ever seen. Patches of various symbols and designs were sewn onto it, and his helmet seemed to be made of some alien material, neither metal nor leather, with a transparent visor that covered his eyes. Attached to his vest were various gadgets and tools, none of which Lysandra could identify.


    But then came the alien soldier¡¯s weapon. The man pointed the strange, elongated device down, straight at her face in a bone chillingly nonchalant manner. The majority of the object was completely alien to Lysandra, but the man¡¯s hand hovered around what looked like a trigger.


    ¡°Should I waste her?¡± The soldier yelled again as he looked over his shoulder.


    Lysandra realized the object in the man¡¯s hand was something akin to a crossbow and she was about to die. The thought created a lump in her throat, and even though she couldn''t understand his words, she felt the weight of their meaning.


    A single tear, glistening like a precious gem, rolled down her cheek, creating a stark contrast against the dirt and blood that covered her face. It was a silent testament to the whirlwind of emotions roiling within her: sorrow, pain, regret, and a plea for mercy.


    ¡°No, you fucking idiot!¡± Another voice barked, distinct from the young soldier''s, and carrying an air of authority and deep exasperation.


    The man who had spoken emerged from the corner of her vision, and pushed the soldier aside with his hand, not in a typical manner, but in a very specific and disciplined way that was foreign to Lysandra. His hand was flattened with the fingers tightly pressed together, and the thumb tucked into the palm. He thrust it forward in a sharp, controlled motion, not to strike but more as a gesture of emphasis and authority.


    ¡°Just cause they¡¯re fuckin¡¯ aliens don¡¯t mean we get free pass to fuckin¡¯ execute motherfuckers, Walker!¡± The newcomer, presumably his superior, continued, his voice a rough snarl of anger, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"


    Walker, with his weapon now pointed away from Lysandra, stammered a response. "R-Roger that, sarn¡¯t. Sorry, sarn¡¯t.¡± The young soldier responded submissively, his face reddening from the reprimand.


    ¡°Last thing I need is to get the Lieutenant or god forbid, the fuckin¡¯ CO on my ass because you dumbfucks want to commit warcrimes!¡± The Sergeant spun around, pointing at everyone in the vicinity, before turning back to his subordinate. ¡°Is that what you want, Walker? A FUCKIN¡¯ COURT-MARTIAL!? A trip to the fuckin¡¯ HAGUE!?¡±


    Walker was standing at attention, his back ramrod straight, "No, sarn¡¯t."


    ¡°That¡¯s what I fuckin¡¯ thought. Now get this elf a god damn medic before I NJP your ass!¡± The Sergeant barked, and Walker, visibly shaken, scurried away with rapid footsteps, his boots pounding on the uneven ground. ¡°Jesus fuckin¡¯ Christ¡­¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The sergeant exhaled heavily, attempting to stifle his frustration and regain composure. His eyes moved back to Lysandra, lying battered on the ground, her breathing labored and her gaze dull with a mixture of sorrow and fear.


    The sergeant took a deep breath, rubbing his temple as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache. As he took a moment to survey the scene, he noticed the glint of the battered woman¡¯s pointed ears and the intricate craftsmanship of her armor, despite its damaged state. The glimmering cuirass she wore was discolored and completely peppered with deep dents from the fragments of a recent explosion. Some of the shrapnel had ripped through the armor below her chest line, causing evident bloodstains that contrasted the metal''s otherwise gleaming hue.


    "What a mess¡­," he whispered to himself, turning around to see a medic jogging to his position.


    Before Lysandra knew what was going on, there was another individual hovering over her, stripping her of her clothes and armor with careful precision. Each piece of equipment was set aside, cataloged meticulously by a soldier who ensured nothing was misplaced.


    In her weakened state, fear clouded Lysandra''s judgment. The removal of her armor felt like the ultimate insult, a sign of impending doom. The actions of the medic, although meant to be compassionate and helpful, took on a sinister light in her mind. She believed they were removing her belongings as a precursor to her execution, ensuring that any valuables she had wouldn''t be wasted.


    But worse than the perceived indignity was the weight of guilt and regret. Lyandra had committed the worst sin a commander could ever make. She didn¡¯t just get herself killed, but she had led her loyal comrades straight to death''s hands, so maybe the indignities were justly deserved.


    Lysandra stared straight up at the alien night sky as her body jerked around from the forcible disrobing. It would have been the ultimate insult to the woman if she could feel anything beyond the profound numbness that gripped her soul. Every touch, every tug of the fabric against her skin, failed to elicit a reaction, for her mind had constructed a barrier against the storm of emotions that threatened to break through.


    She couldn¡¯t help but notice that even though she was in this nightmare of a realm, the stars still shimmered with an otherworldly beauty. The constellations were unfamiliar, yes, but they were still wondrous.


    As Lysandra closed her remaining eye, she wondered casually if this was the part where they decided to violate her. The thought made her smirk slightly. "Even without an eye I must still hold some kind of beauty," she mused in her own mind, "At least there¡¯s that."


    And with that thought, the former commander felt as if that was the last thing she would ever think or feel.


    At least it was somewhat entertaining.


    ¡­


    However, to her disappointment, Lysandra opened her eyes again. A deafening whine and strange ethereal whirls sounded off, and she found Her arm was a maze of tubes and odd looking gadgets.


    Trying to move her arm, the Elf realized she couldn¡¯t move a muscle and they had restrained her tightly against the cold metal floor. Slowly looking over to her right, she noticed another figure, one that was distinctly different from the soldiers from before. He had the same earthly hues as his comrades, but his equipment was different¡­ and he sat in a rather nonchalant manner with his legs dangling over the side.


    Lysandra blurry vision remained locked on the man''s back as the wind tousled his long dark hair. Every small detail, from the worn patches on his armor to the precise way he adjusted the strange weapon slung across his lap, spoke of experience and efficiency. Even the subtle tension in the set of his shoulders, spoke of death if tested or underestimated.


    As her vision adjusted, she took in the scene around her. Confusion clouded Lyandra¡¯s face as she noticed she was surrounded by a small ragtag group of wounded Daesyls, contracted servants of the Empire. A small tinge of sympathy coursed through Lyandra when she saw their already long droopy rabbit-like ears fall even further in dejection.


    Craning her head with great difficulty, Lyandra finally noticed that they weren''t in a room, but rather some kind of enormous airborne contraption of some sort. The edges of the vessel were open, allowing the crisp air to flow in and below, the world was a blur of green and darkness, with treetops rushing by at an astonishing speed.


    A dizzying realization washed over Lysandra. They were airborne, and from the looks of it, at a height that would be deadly to fall from. The sheer speed and the occasional jolt made her stomach churn, and the cacophony started to overwhelm the woman.


    She tried to muster the strength to shout, to demand answers, but she realized she didn¡¯t even have the energy to keep her sole eye open any longer. Every ounce of her being seemed to be pulled into a heavy, relentless fatigue that couldn¡¯t be shaken.


    Soon enough, the darkness took Lysandra as the void embraced her once more.


    -


    DuPont let out a deep sigh as his gaze remained fixated on the wreck of one of his platoon¡¯s Bradleys. On its glacis, there was a gaping fist sized hole that was indicative of a direct hit from some kind of high-velocity projectile of some sort.


    However Dupont knew said projectile wasn¡¯t exactly¡­ ¡®material¡¯ to begin with. He saw it first hand, the Bradley had made the fatal mistake of using the same firing position one too many times. In the midst of the battle, the Bradley, employing the hit-and-run tactics synonymous with armored warfare, would dart out from behind cover, unleash hell and brimstone before ducking back into cover. It was a tactic meant to keep the enemy guessing, to keep them off-balance.


    The maneuver worked well initially, as their armor engaged mixed targets of infantry and what appeared to be giant magically-imbued horned Hyenas. However, the monster¡¯s sheer size and ferocity drew the attention of most of the frontline¡¯s firepower and drew so much attention, no one noticed their infantry quickly closed the gap.


    This was coupled with the fact that the Bradley made the fatal mistake of popping out of the same location repeatedly. That predictability became its downfall. While most of the platoon was focused on the hulking monsters charging them, a robed figure, distinct from the infantry, began channeling some form of energy. The air around the magic user crackled as the space around them resonated with power and with a swift motion the robed figure unleashed a torrent of violent violet energy.


    DuPont had watched as the IFV made its last mistake as a concentrated bolt of raw power flashed across the field in a blink of an eye and struck the Bradley dead on. Sparks from the impact flew everywhere as if the damned thing was hit by a god damn sabot.


    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± DuPont groaned as he watched his men pull the driver, a Corporal Evans, out of the wreckage.


    In the aftermath of the battle, the air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, gunpowder and burnt metal. The distant cries of the wounded and the occasional shout of a medic or the barks of orders from NCO¡¯s filled the void.


    Just a day ago, they were all back in Fort Cavazos, Texas, trying to fill their time vacuuming rocks, PTing and sometimes going on the occasional live fire exercise. But now they were graced with the presence of Warlocks, dragons and other monsters.


    Hopping out of his own Bradley, Sergeant First Class Hofmann made his way toward the Lieutenant. ¡°We got 4 KIA and 6 wounded.¡± The Platoon Sergeant said, pulling off his helmet and took a seat next to the Platoon Leader on the ground.


    Neither of them said a word as they stared at the mass of humanoid and monstrous bodies that littered the field in front of them. The muted moans and cries of the wounded the enemy had left behind in their disorganized retreat.


    ¡°Who would¡¯ve believed any of this shit, sir?¡± Hofmann said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "I mean, I''ve read about wizards and knights in books, seen them in movies or fought them in games but this? I feel like this is some kind of psychotic hallucination."


    DuPont didn¡¯t reply initially as he continued to stare out at the field. ¡°What the fuck do we even do with them?¡± He suddenly asked, looking over at the Sergeant, gesturing towards the carnage. ¡°Do we give them medical attention? Do we go and finish them off? They just fuckin¡¯ left them there.¡±


    Hofmann''s gaze tracked alongside DuPont''s, settling on a small armored figure with dark, reptilian scales and a snout-like face while Its labored breathing punctuated the hush that had fallen over the battlefield.  "Never thought I''d find myself having to take the Geneva Convention in consideration for... for whatever these things are," Hofmann said, disbelief evident in his tone.


    A derisive chuckle left the lieutenant''s mouth as he hung his head and shook it in disbelief. The situation they found themselves in was completely divorced from any sense of reality or sense.


    It truly boggled one''s mind.


    Suddenly, the roar of an engine disrupted their contemplation. From the haze of dust and smoke, Captain Reyes emerged, driving up in a battered Abrams. As the lumbering vehicle came to a halt, the captain  jumped out of his commander''s cupola with a face lined with stress and irritation.


    "DuPont, get your shit in order and start salvaging whatever you can find. We''re pulling back to the secondary defense line." Captain Reyes barked standing on top of his tank.


    DuPont hesitated, casting a glance toward the wounded invaders. "Sir, what about them?" he asked, nodding towards the injured beings strewn across the battlefield.


    Captain Reyes followed DuPont''s gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a glance at his wristwatch, he responded, "Leave ''em. We ain''t got the time or the means."


    Hofmann and his platoon leader watched their commanding officer hop back into his tank and drove off, its turbine engine whining in the distance. And as the dust from the retreating tank settled, DuPont and Hofmann exchanged a glance before giving each other a simple shrug.


    "Well, fuck ''em I guess," DuPont said with a hint of resignation. "You heard the Captain. Let''s get this show on the road."

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 12

    Grunting through the pain, Gideon supported Yzael across the street as hell broke out around them.


    Already stuck behind enemy lines, Gideon and Yzael had been effectively chased further into the town by the withdrawing the indigenous forces and their metal beasts.


    Insurmountable amounts of barks from strange weaponry echoed from every corner, accompanied by terse and harsh commands from the soldiers of this realm nearby. Buildings were aflame, explosions shook the ground and screams bellowed out as fang and claw met flesh whenever those horrid Yoxen or the formidable Weremen got too close.


    Ducking into another building, Gideon and Yzael tried to catch their breath, but as they turned their heads, they came across a scene of sheer carnage. A lone fur covered humanoid in the shape of a wolf was huffing and puffing, staring at them with glowing red eyes as it stood over the bodies of not only its kin, but a group of this realm''s soldiers. A low growl resonated behind them, followed by the feverish chants from the enslaved Weremen as its massive claws extended.


    ¡°T-Those accursed beasts brought their shamans!¡± Yzael yelped in fear as the monster hunched over, positioning itself to leap onto them.


    The hair on Gideon''s neck stood up as he clutched the sword in his hand tightly. He had hoped to cross the lines back into friendly territory, but with the bloodcrazed Weremen under the influence of profane magics, it seemed there were no friendly lines.


    Anywhere.


    Before either of them could react, the wolf-like creature lunged, its monstrous maw agape and claws aiming to strike. But sudden, deafening noises rang out, causing the beast to stumble and slam into the wall, clutching its chest.


    Turning towards the offenders and their infernal devices, the creature threw itself at them instead, only to be put down under the hail of gunfire. The thing turned and writhed as the deafening chatter of strange weapons echoed throughout the halls of the dilapidated building. Once the Wereman ceased to move, soldiers stormed inside, putting more rounds into its head to make sure the thing was down for good.


    Gideon basically threw Yzael into the other room and jumped in after as soon as he saw those soldiers snap their weapons towards them. Hisses and snaps from projectiles slammed into the walls, while the two hugged the floor, praying the barrage would cease.


    Turning his gaze upward, Gideon watched as one of the soldiers popped out of the destroyed walls and took aim at the two of them. Time seemed to slow as Gideon met the soldier''s cold gaze, knowing that in mere seconds, their lives would be over.


    But before the soldier could pull the trigger, the wall behind the soldier roared to life, splintering wood and brick flying in every direction. A massive, horned Wereman, wielding a colossal mace dripping with blood, burst through the structure, roaring in fury.


    ¡°RUN!!¡± Gideon screamed as he grabbed Yzael''s arm, pulling hereaway from the scrappy battle.


    More snaps and hisses resounded all around the two as they sprinted through the haze of smoke and dust, desperately trying to evade both the enemy soldiers and supposedly friendly Weremen.


    Just as they ran through the smoke, they came face to face with a monstrous, metal behemoth looming in front of them. Its massive form was crookedly blocking their path and its long snout extended, pointing down the street.


    Yzael''s eyes widened in horror. "By the heavens¡­" She whispered, voice tinged with both wonder and fear.


    Before Gideon could voice his own concern, the long snout of the metal creature erupted into an enormous fireball that consumed everything in its vicinity. The shockwave from the explosion threw the two off their feet and caused their world to spin.


    Ringing in their ears was immense. Both Yzael and Gideon screamed at each other as they scrambled to their feet, instinctively moving away from the source of the explosion, but neither of them could hear the other''s voice. Their words were lost amidst the intense buzzing in their ears as they started to pulsate painfully.


    Stumbling into a nearby structure, they slid across its unnaturally smooth floor, shards of broken glass cutting into their hands and legs. The air inside was thick with smoke from the burning interior, making them cough and wheeze as they tried to regain their bearings.


    Gideon, gripping Yzael, went for her abdomen to check her wounds and gently pulled back the fabric of her clothes to examine the makeshift bandage he had applied earlier. The cloth was soaked with fresh blood, but it wasn¡¯t bleeding like it was before.


    Yzael winced in pain as Gideon inspected the wound. "It still hurts," she croaked weakly, clutching at his hand with her own trembling fingers.


    Neither of the two could hear a word, but Gideon scowled as he looked at her injuries. It wasn¡¯t bad, but it was well on its way to being bad if left untreated. They were stuck in this hellscape, no resources and even fewer allies. Both sides were trying to kill them and Gideon''s heart raced, not just from the adrenaline of the situation, but from the creeping dread that Yzael might not survive this ordeal. Each passing moment seemed an eternity, weighed down by the knowledge that the makeshift bandage was the only medical solution he could apply.


    Taking a shaky breath, Gideon tried to calm himself. Panic would help neither of them. He held Yzael''s face gently, forcing her to look at him. "Ya gotta stay with me," he implored, his eyes shining with unshed tears. ¡°Please¡­¡±


    Despite both the pain and inability to hear, Yzael understood each word and nodded weakly. She was just a shadow of her once snippy and feisty self. In its stead, horror and fatigue glazed her eyes. Yet even in this dire state, her spirit hadn''t been fully snuffed out. ¡°O-Okay¡­¡± Yzael Squeaked as a large concussive force from the iron beat shook the foundations of the building.


    The distant hum in their ears started to fade, replaced by the sharp noise of rapid detonations. With every explosion, the floor seemed to vibrate, and dust drifted from the ceiling. As Gideon''s and Yzael''s hearing gradually returned, it became clear that the battle was far from over. The chorus of unfamiliar weapons and the clattering of armored clinks grew louder.


    Peeking out of the door of the broken building, Gideon watched more iron beasts with smaller snouts speed in, firing away at targets further down the street with rhythmic bursts. These fiery eruptions seemed to come at an even more alarming rate than the large ones. It was almost as if someone was beating war drums incessantly, except these drums shoot every fiber of one''s being. And if that wasn¡¯t enough, the rear of the metal monstrosities opened to allow those soldiers dressed in irregular patterns to flood out into the streets and fire their strange weapons at faraway targets unknown.


    But what really induced panic in Gideon was a full group of 9 of these otherworldly soldiers were sprinting right for him.


    Yelping in horror, Gideon quickly retracted his head and slammed the door shut. He sprinted back to Yzael, panic evident in his eyes. "They''re coming! We need to move, now!" He yelled while frantically looking around, scanning for any possible exits.


    However, the walls seemed to close in around them, offering no immediate means of escape, all the while the sounds of the soldiers'' boots and commanding shouts grew closer as the rhythmic pounding from their machines echoed through the hallways.


    Yzael''s eyes widened in alarm, sensing the urgency of the situation. "Where? Where can we go?" she rasped.


    Seeing there were no good options, Gideon began to drag her deeper within, through the winding maze of rooms. Yzael did her best to kick at the ground, propelling them both forward with as much speed as she could muster, but every jolt sent a searing pain through her side, and she couldn''t stifle the occasional howl of agony.


    The cacophony behind them grew louder as the sounds of those soldiers'' personal weapons reverberated off of every surface as they shouted to each other in a language neither Gideon nor Yzael recognized.


    Rounding a corner, Gideon spotted a narrow set of stairs leading downwards. Without hesitation, he steered Yzael towards them, praying they would lead to some sort of escape. The stairs descended into a dim, damp basement. The air was thick with the scent of mold, but it offered them a temporary refuge from the fighting above.


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    The howls of Weremen coupled with the sick yodeling laughter of the Yoxen spread throughout the area. Amidst the cacophony, the town''s once peaceful nights filled with chirping crickets were now distant memories. The gunfire, laughter of Yoxen and roars of the Weremen had all melded into a haunting lullaby of war.


    Yet, a world away from this chaos, in a lavish tent surrounded by golden banners, a different kind of laughter emanated. Korthax, the supreme commander of the subjugation force, sat on his luxurious cushion, cackling his head off. The General¡¯s feather covered fingers adorned with gold rings tapped rhythmically against the side of his snout, the glint of precious gems catching the soft light of the candles illuminating the tent.


    His laughter wasn''t of joy, but rather a melancholic acknowledgment of the irony. Here he was, overseeing what was turning out to be the worst disaster in the empire''s history. The ill-fated invasion was such a catastrophic blunder that it overshadowed previous military embarrassments; including the heavy losses during the border war with the Necropolis and the woeful attempt to subjugate the forest of those accursed druids.


    "Ahhh," he sighed, his laughter subsiding as he poured himself a goblet of deep blue liquor, letting the aroma waft to his nostrils. "Who would have thought that even a Sovereign would be brought to the brink of failure?" he mused aloud, staring into the liquid''s depths, as if seeking answers there.


    Korthax leaned back, taking a moment to reflect upon the reports that were laid out before him. arcane maps depicted the strategic layout of the currently occupied land, this unknown territory that was proving far more formidable than he had ever even fathomed. The land was dotted with large structures and complex transportation networks that, while unfamiliar to him, exuded a sense of advanced civilization.


    Picking the stacks of reports, the supreme commander singled out one that detailed encounters with machines that moved on their own, launching projectiles that had the capability to decimate even the most hardened of the Drakonics. There were mentions of flying machines, too, ones that weren¡¯t wyverns, wyrms or dragons but made of metal and emitted a thunderous noise. These¡­ humans seemed to harness an energy source that was alien to him, and this power was giving them an edge.


    He needed to act fast.


    One option was to dig in, fortify their positions, and hope for reinforcements. But given the unexpected might and resistance of this civilization, he wasn''t sure if it would turn the tide. Their unknown technology and means of power had proven formidable. There were reports of metal beasts on wheels that spewed fire, high-reaching buildings that seemed impervious to damage, and a myriad of other weapons and devices that confounded and decimated his troops.


    Another option was issue a full-scale retreat, pulling back every asset they had, regardless of rank or importance. But this would not only be a significant blow to the empire''s reputation and might embolden this new civilization to pursue them. Especially with their strange air power already picking away his forces at the edge of the contested lines.


    However, the most pragmatic choice seemed to be the most heartless and most politically painful for him.


    A strategic retreat.


    They would have to pull back the vital assets like the Sovereign, the enslaved dragons, and the primary Drakonic forces. Unfortunately, this would mean sacrificing the empire''s tributaries, vassals, and mercenaries. With one last hurrah with the feigned notion of creating a breakthrough, He would pull back the Empire''s core contingent and leave everyone else to the mercy of the otherworlders.


    Their loss would buy the main forces time to retreat and reconsolidate on the other side of the rift from whence they came. But such a decision, while tactical, bore the burden of significant political complications. There were allegiances, treaties, and promises. Sacrificing the vassals and tributaries wasn''t just a military decision, it was a statement that the empire''s word could be forsaken when faced with unprecedented adversity.


    The ramifications of such a choice were far-reaching. The tributaries and vassals had joined the invasion with the promise of shared spoils and under the protection of the empire''s might. Leaving them behind would be seen as the ultimate betrayal and could sow the seeds of dissent among the allies and subjects of the empire. It would most likely lead to the unraveling of centuries of work in order to peacefully absorb these states. It was a strategic move that could erode the very foundations of the empire¡¯s political landscape.


    Trust, once broken, would be hard to mend.


    But what choice did he have? The loss of their border territories paled in comparison to losing hordes of dragons let alone a Sovereign like the one fighting in the skies of that forsaken world. If word spread that the mightiest of their kind, a celestial dragon, fell in battle against these otherworlders, panic and chaos would ensue throughout the entire empire.


    ¡°DAMN IT ALL!!!¡± Korthax bellowed, sending his hand through the thick hardwood table, splitting it in half down the middle.


    Servants and Guards alike jumped at the sudden outburst, exchanging fearful glances among themselves. The once tranquil war chamber was now filled with tension thick enough to cut through. His advisors, well accustomed to Korthax''s fiery temperament, took a deep breath to steady themselves.


    "Forgive me," Korthax growled, reigning in his anger and pulling his hand from the wreckage of the table. Blood trickled from a few minor cuts, but they began to heal almost instantly, a testament to his celestial prowess. "But the gravity of our situation is pressing, and my patience is wearing thin."


    None blamed him, not even the advisors and dragonkin commanders gathered around the table. The burden of leadership weighed heavily on Korthax''s broad shoulders, but they understood the stakes, the lives lost, and the potential repercussions of this ill-fated invasion. Everyone knew of the situation, even down to the lowborn standing around, just from seeing the unending stream of wounded flooding back through the rift.


    Commander Lira, a red-feathered seraph with scars marring her once flawless features, stepped forward, her voice steady despite the dire circumstances. "Your lordship, I understand your plight, however¡­ Time is running thin.¡± She said momentarily glancing at the subservient scaled Dragonkin to the left of her. ¡°We need a recalibration of our strategy, the vassals and tributaries expect a plan, and morale is crumbling."


    Narix, the dragonkin to whom Lira had cast a glance, nodded in agreement, his scales glistening in the dim light. "She speaks the truth. The forces are restless, and tales of the otherworlders'' might have ignited fear among those in the encampment, especially after the devastating strike on the rifts staging ground.¡±


    Korthax remained silent as he tapped on his snout, staring long and hard at the destroyed table as the general tried to compose himself. Outbursts like this were an extremely rare occurrence when it came to the General. Korthax was known for his measured, and even kind demeanor in the face of dire situations, but this situation was unprecedented. He had been at the helm of countless battles, managed intricate strategies against formidable foes, and had always come out victorious. Yet, facing an enemy with unknown capabilities and tactics from another realm entirely, had shaken even the most hardened.


    ¡°I have my own opinion, but what is the worst case scenario if we cannot close the rift and these¡­ things choose to pursue?¡± Korthax finally spoke, his deep voice echoing through the tent.


    ¡°I believe¡­¡± Lira spoke first with a troubled look. Her eyes narrowed as she pondered the potential outcomes. "If the rift remains open and the otherworlders flood in, our allies and vassal states would significantly slow them down if we shape the narrative in our favor.¡± She said carefully, looking around the table. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be above the clever use of propaganda.¡±


    Narix added, "I¡¯m inclined to agree even though I find it distasteful.¡± His claws tapped on the table. ¡°Fear can go a long way, especially since these otherworlders'' intentions are a mystery to us. We''ve witnessed their destructive power, so we know the threat they pose is real. Harnessing that fear might be our best chance."


    A deep snarl left Korthax''s mouth as his clawed hand stabbed down into the already broken table, piercing through the wood with a force that sent splinters flying.


    Korthax''s eyes bore into Lira''s and then shifted to Narix''s, his voice firm and cold. "In light of our current predicament, desperate times call for desperate measures." He paused, the weight of his decision evident in the room''s tense atmosphere. "I want the auxiliaries to break through the frontline immediately. The main body of our forces will fall back."


    Narix''s eyes widened, confusion evident. "But, General, our vassals would never stand for it, if they find out they¡¯re to-¡±


    "Die in our stead?" Korthax interrupted, his tone icy. "I am well aware. But what do you think would happen if our Dragons fell, or even a damned sovereign?¡±


    Standing from his seat, Korthax¡¯s feather spread out, making him seem even more regal. ¡°Even though we have not committed any of our Sepharic forces, the cataclysm that would follow would be a fate far worse than losing a collection of barbarian city states and kingdoms on the border.¡±


    Silence reigned as they watched the supreme commander mull over his next words. The dim light in the tent cast long shadows over Korthax''s stern face, deepening the creases of his age and the scars from countless battles.


    ¡°Our dragons are not just symbols of power," Korthax continued, "they are the lifeline of our realms, the protectors of our cities, and the hope of our people. Even just the loss of these flights would demoralize our entire civilization and break the spirits of those we lead.¡± He spat out glaring into both Lira and Narix ¡°And if we lose a Sovereign¡­ Even the emperor would feel its repercussions.¡±


    Lira, her plumage ruffled, took a step closer, her voice gentle but firm. "Your will shall be done.¡±


    Narix hesitated for a moment, his scales catching the dim light with a shimmer, then finally bowed deeply. "Your will shall be done."


    The General looked at both of them before spinning and marching to his quarters. ¡°Tell the auxiliaries and mercenaries that they''ll be reinforced the moment they make their push,¡± Korthax ordered without turning. "Promise them gold, lands, whatever it takes. They need to believe that they are not being abandoned.¡±


    The tent flap fell shut behind Korthax, leaving Lira and Narix with the weight of their task that lay ahead.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 13

    Every passing second was a nightmare that not even the most depraved hag could conjure. The basement was damp, the steady drip of water forming a maddening rhythm against the cacophony of destruction outside. Dust and debris fell with each explosion, the old walls groaning in protest, threatening to collapse.


    Yzael''s breaths came ragged and labored, her face a ghostly pale against the dim, flickering light. The pool of blood beneath her seemed to steadily grow with each passing minute, a stark contrast to the gray floor. Gideon''s hands were stained red, pressing down on Yzael''s wound, trying to stem the flow. His eyes, always so fierce and unyielding, were now filled with raw anguish as panic started to creep into his face.


    "Gideon," she whispered weakly, knowing her end was slowly starting to creep closer and closer, "I''m scared."


    Gideon''s heart felt like a solid piece of lead heavily sinking into the deep abyss. Swallowing hard, the large, solidly built man forced back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "I know," he whispered back, offering a comforting touch to her shoulder amidst the terror surrounding them. "But I need you to hold on for a little longer. I¡¯ll keep ya alive, I promise¡­"


    Sensing he was about to leave, Yzael reached out and grasped his hand, her fingers weakly curling around his own. ¡°No¡­! No, please don¡¯t go!¡± She pleaded as the world shook around them. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± Yzael''s voice broke as she continued, "I don''t want to die alone."


    The blasts became more violent, causing the overhead beams to creak ominously. Bits of concrete began to fall, dust filling the air. Gideon shielded Yzael with his body, hoping to protect her from any further harm.


    Every tremor was like a ticking clock and each second felt like a lifetime as Yzael¡¯s condition weighed heavily on Gideon''s mind. He couldn''t stay here, couldn''t just watch her fade away. He needed to act.


    Through the gaps in the basement ceiling, he could hear the roars of the Weremen and the deafening blasts of artillery. Their only hope lay outside, but that world was filled with chaos and uncertainty.


    Summoning every ounce of courage, Gideon stood up, ripping himself out of Yzael¡¯s grip. "I-I need you to stay strong, Yzael.¡± He said with a voice thick of emotion. ¡°I¡­ I can''t let you die like this. I have to find help, even if it''s the last thing I do."


    ¡°No!¡± Yzael yelled, as she tried to push herself up. However, the high elf was simply too weak and toppled over in pain. Smacking against the concrete floor, her vision blurred as darkness threatened to take over, but she fought it off as she reached out to the closing door and squeaked out her last plea, "Please¡­! Please don''t leave me alone!"


    The door slammed shut, leaving Yzael in the ever-consuming darkness of the basement. The silence that enveloped her was punctuated only by the muffled sounds of the battle above and her labored breathing. The world seemed distant, surreal. Every nerve in her body screamed in pain, but a different kind of agony tightened around her heart.


    That of abandonment.


    Through gritted teeth, Gideon stepped out into the hellscape above and grabbed Yzael¡¯s sword tight. Bodies of both Weremen and of those strange soldiers were scattered all over the place and the once solid building they had sought shelter in had been completely decimated. Half of the structure had crumbled into rubble as ash and smoke billowed from its core, while the remaining half stood precariously with fire licking its remaining walls.


    But as the large man turned his gaze outside, he was met with an apocalyptic scene. The streets were filled with debris, smoldering fires, and bodies. The ground was scarred from the force of spells, strange otherworld weapons, and the tread of those metal beasts.


    As Gideons thoughts turned to that monstrosity, his gaze fell upon the massive remains of one slumped in the corner of the street.Iits large turret pointing towards the heavens in a silent, accusing manner an atop its cold, iron surface lay the corpse of an enormous Yoxen. The beast¡¯s thick hide was ripped open and its deep red blood poured over the construct, staining it with an eerie sheen.


    Despite the horrid sight, Gideon knew he couldn''t afford to be paralyzed by the chaos as a bark of otherworldly weapons resounded accompanied by the roars of weremen. But he couldn¡¯t afford to stare and gawk. Every second counted with Yzael¡¯s life hanging in the balance, and there was no telling how much longer the basement would hold or how long she could hang. The very thought pushed Gideon forward, keeping a low head with, Yzael¡¯s sword reflecting the orange and red glow of the surrounding fires.


    Suddenly, just from his left, a war cry rang out, as a group of weremenburst out of an adjacent building and made a desperate bid to run down the street. But before they could make it far, the ground shook once again as deafening blasts, which seemed to be summoned from the skies, erupted around them. The earth shook with each terrifying explosion, creating craters and sending clouds of dust and debris into the air.


    Gideon ducked back down behind the partially destroyed wall he had been hiding behind and shielded himself as the chatter of the otherworlders weapons accompanied the rain of death. He has seen Yzael wield all kinds of powerful spells, but in all his time as a freelancer he had never encountered such ferocity in battle.


    Weremen under the effects of their horrid shaman¡¯s bloodfury or bloodlust, were known to be near unstoppable. They were absolutely relentless, throwing themselves at formations and cutting them apart without fear or concern for their own lives. And here they were, systematically torn apart from a distance by unseen hands , by a power that neither magic nor sheer brute strength seemed to match.


    Turning around and pressing himself closer to the wall, Gideon surveyed the room he was in and caught sight of several lifeless forms sprawled across the room. The structure, though battered from the battle outside, was filled with fallen Weremen, with the shredded bodies of otherworld soldiers laying amongst them.


    He knew that while Weremen were brutal and vicious, their shamans often brewed potent potions and concoctions that aided them in battle. Some were known to cure ailments or even mend wounds, while others were made to imbue the drinker with strength. If he could find just one of these vials, it could be the difference between life and death for Yzael.


    Even a strength potion could potentially give her what she needed in order to survive long enough to get to healers.


    Gideon began his frantic search, weaving through the piles of rubble and bodies. He held onto faintest hope of finding something useful as he overturned each Beastman corpse. But as he checked one body after another, all he found were either empty or shattered vials, their precious contents wasted amidst the chaos.


    Even after going over everybody three times, the realization that there was nothing of use hit him hard.


    Fissures formed in the floor as Gideon¡¯s hand slammed into it. The warrior¡¯s breath then became ragged, and his vision blurred from the frustration and desperation building within. The weight of the situation pressed down on him as he turned over another body and resumed his frantic search.


    He felt defeated, exhausted, and at the brink of despair. How was he going to face Yzael, who was on the very brink of death, with the news that he couldn''t find anything to help?


    Tears started to finally stream out of his face as he broke down, collapsing onto his knees. The usually resilient warrior, who had faced countless perils and emerged victorious, now found himself shattered in the face of possible loss. The ground beneath him felt cold and unyielding, matching the frosty grip of hopelessness that threatened to choke him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± He croaked, slamming his hand against the ground as the sounds of battle continued to echo around him. ¡°Yzael¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­ I don¡¯t know what to do!¡±


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    Each sob that wracked his body carried with it the weight of every promise, every vow, every moment he had shared with Yzael. Memories of their contracts together, from battling monsters in the wilds to clicking mugs together in seedy taverns, flooded his mind. The juxtaposition of those cherished memories against the current reality felt like a blade being twisted in his heart.


    But as Gideon''s sorrow filled the battered room, a blastwave from a nearby explosion jolted him back to the present. Dust and debris filled his surroundings, and the room trembled under the force reminding the warrior where he was.


    Gideon sucked in a few deep breaths and recollected himself as his gaze turned towards this realm¡¯s soldiers clad in their strange irregular uniforms and strange weapons scattered around and scramble to their bodies. He felt a pang of irony in seeking aid from the very enemies he''d been fighting against, but desperation knew no bounds.


    In the background, the barks and roars of the Weremen were silenced by the rapid chatter of the otherworlders'' weapons. And as much as these foul beasts pushed the defenders back, the otherworlders were slowly and steadily retaking ground, so Gideon had to move quickly.


    Pushing over one of the fallen soldiers, Gideon¡¯s hands swiftly rifled through the body¡¯s pockets and pouches searching for anything that resembled potions and elixirs or any form of aid that could help pull Yzael away from the brink of death.


    In his hurried search, Gideon''s fingers slid across unusual items that felt both alien and familiar. There were tight rolls of white fabric with sticky ends, which he assumed were some sort of bandages along with small sealed packets, which when torn open revealed wet, odd smelling cloths. While everything was foreign, Gideon could clearly understand they were used as potential life-saving tools.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Ahh fuck it, I¡¯ll take it all!¡± Gideon shouted, shoving as much as he could in his own pouches before jumping to the next body.


    This one was slumped against a ruined wall with a large chunk of their necks ripped out. The poor soul had a large bag beside him, adorned with that strange red cross symbol. Without hesitation, Gideon knelt down and tried to open the bag, but his fingers fumbled over the curious metal tracks that sealed the bag shut. In his impatience and anxiety, Gideon took his dagger and deftly sliced the bag open.


    ¡°Blessed be the ancients! A healer''s bag!¡± The man cried out in relief, barely able to contain his joy. Clear, flexible bags filled with some liquid and a tube attached were accompanied by the same strange medical implements on the other bodies.


    However, before he could make his way to Yzael, the distinct sound of the otherworlders'' language rang out. Within moments, the staccato of their weapons echoed loudly, drowning out Gideon¡¯s yelp as he instinctively threw himself to the ground, pressing as close to the floor as possible. The unnatural projectiles pierced the walls just inches above him, slicing through the wall like paper.


    Suddenly, with the chatter of strange weapons still following them, two massive Weremen exploded through the wall into the room. One, riddled with holes from the outside assault, writhed and flailed wildly as it collapsed onto the healer''s bag, squashing it beneath its weight.


    Having already rolled out of the way, Gideon watched in horror as the contents splattered and crushed, rendering the once invaluable supplies useless.


    "NO!!!" The warrior¡¯s throat released a desperate scream as he reached out and snatched the precious bag.


    The second Beastman, though injured, was not crippled and its frenzied gaze fell upon Gideon for just a moment, before scrambling further into the building while bullets followed, slamming into the wall behind it. And It only took Gideon a fraction of a moment to snap to attention and chase after the monster.


    The damned thing was going right for the door that held his defenseless and critical injured partner.


    In an adrenaline-fueled rush, Gideon sprinted after the monster, gripping Yzael¡¯s weapon tightly in his hand. Turning the corner, he watched as the Beastman grip the handle of the basement door and yanked the thing right off its hinges. Gideon lunged just in the nick of time, catching it completely off guard and sicking the blade deeply into the creature''s shoulder before tackling it over a counter top.


    The force of the impact shattered the glass and sent various items flying in every direction as the two of them rolled and thrashed, knocking over tables and chairs in the confined space. The creature roared in pain and anger, trying to dislodge the warrior clinging onto it, stabbing him repeatedly in the side with its claws.


    Gideon let out a guttural scream of agony as he yanked out the sword and plunged it into the monster''s chest. The blade sank deep, eliciting another blood curdling roar from the Beastman as it twisted and writhed beneath him. But with a sudden surge of monstrous strength, the Beastman''s hand clasped around Gideon''s arm and with a powerful yank, flung the man off like a ragdoll right into a large shelf.


    The wounded Beastman, despite having the sword still embedded in its chest, scrambled to its feet in order to make its escape, but before it could make a move, the distinct rapid chatter of otherworldly weaponry echoed throughout the room. Multiple projectiles slammed into the Beastman¡¯s back, causing it to jerk and stumble forward with every impact. The monster let out a pained roar as it crashed face-first into a nearby wall, bits of plaster and brick scattering.


    Within moments, the room filled with the presence of the otherworldly soldiers, their weapons trained on the now motionless Beastman sprawled on the floor, riddled with bullets .Their relief was short-lived, though, as Gideon quickly became the new focus of their attention. With their weapons were trained on him, and the soldiers closed in, shouting commands in a language he couldn''t understand. Gideon, already weakened from his fight with the Beastman, struggled to stand as blood flowed profusely from his new wounds.


    It was difficult for Gideon to process everything around him, there should have been sharp pain, but instead, he felt an odd numbness beginning to spread, replacing the earlier adrenaline that had surged through him. A deep coldness started to spread on his skin as the echoing shouts made everything surreal, as if he was stuck in a waking nightmare.


    Dragging himself up to his knees, Gideon''s eyes met those of the soldiers. Their gazes were hardened, unyielding, but not completely devoid of compassion. He could barely speak, every word feeling like it was being torn from his throat. His breaths came out ragged and short, but he needed them to understand.


    "Yzael..." he choked out, coughing up blood. Using all the strength he could muster, he started to crawl towards the basement, pointing desperately towards the ruined door that led to the depths below. "Please... please¡­ please help her¡­ please."


    There was a brief pause, as the leader of the soldiers, a dark skinned man, cautiously started to approach with his weapon still trained on Gideon. The soldier''s gaze shifted to the Beast with a sword still sticking out of its chest before quickly snapping back to the armored figure crawling on the ground, his movements labored and weak.


    Seeing Gideon''s critical state, the soldier''s grip on his weapon slightly loosened. He looked to his squadmates for a brief moment, exchanging silent signals. Two of them took a defensive stance, ensuring the perimeter, while another began to cautiously approach the basement door.


    ¡°She¡­ She.. needs¡­¡± Gideon tried to get out another plea before he let out one last low, dying moan. But even though the warrior had expired, his arm remained stretched, pointed directly downstairs.


    ¡°Cooper, Murphy, Rodriguez! On me, we¡¯re gonna take this basement!¡± DuPont yelled out as he stepped over the body of that strange medieval-esque warrior, his boots crunching on shattered glass.


    His soldier quickly formed up behind their Lieutenant while the other posted up, holding security behind the rest of the squad as they approached the basement. The dim light from the room above faintly illuminated the staircase, casting eerie shadows on the wooden steps.


    They moved confidently, but cautiously, making sure every inch of their descent was covered and checked for threats. Each soldier''s senses were on high alert, tuned to every creak of the wooden steps, every drip of water from the moist walls, and the faint echoes of their own movement.


    The basement air was thick with humidity and carried a metallic scent. The soft glow from a single bulb hanging from the room revealed a figure lying on top of a pool of their own blood.


    DuPont furrowed his brows as he crept closer, the figure was an ethereal woman with sharp, elf-like features. Long, silver hair spread around her, merging with the blood that had flowed from her wounds. She lay on her side, her deep violet eyes staring unfocusedly at a pile of boxes, seemingly completely out of it.


    The rest of the squad swiftly spread out, checking each corner of the basement and ensuring they were not about to deal with any unsavory surprises. With the area secured, Murphy Cautiously approached the injured woman, but still kept his weapon at the ready.


    ¡°Clear!¡± Rodriguez shouted, after tossing over a few boxes, and stabbing another with the tip of his rifle.


    With gentle hands, Murphy turned the woman onto her back. The pool of blood had soaked through the back of her ornate clothing, and her breathing was raspy and shallow. As she was flipped, her eyes met Murphy''s momentarily, a glimmer of recognition, or perhaps just a last plea for help, flickering within them.


    "Heavens... protect..." she murmured, her voice barely audible, before her eyelids fluttered and she slipped into unconsciousness. ¡°Gideon¡­.¡±


    A deep silence permeated the entire basement as the soldiers looked at each other with uneasy faces, but DuPont¡¯s Voice echoed throughout the basement as he marched towards the stairs. ¡°MEDIC! GARZA, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, NOW!¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 14

    Yzael had always been an odd one amongst her High Elven peers in her homeland. Her sense of adventure and disdain for the stifling traditions of her people had led her to leave her boring life of study behind, seeking purpose and meaning amongst Freelancers and taskers. But now, amidst the cacophony of the tavern, she felt that familiar sting of alienation.


    The Gryphon¡¯s Tavern was notorious in the city of Aldenshore for its rambunctious and sometimes dangerous clientele of Freelancers. Fights were as common as ordering a pint of ale or a fresh slab of meat. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and the occasional whiff of a spell gone wrong. Rowdy laughter, drunken ballads, and boisterous tales of exploits filled the space, making Yzael''s eardrums throb.


    Sitting alone at a corner table, Yzael tried to look nonchalant with her ale, but her sharp elven eyes surveyed the room with a mix of disdain and curiosity. Warriors clad in cloth, and iron clinked glasses together, regaling their tablemates with stories of close calls and glorious victories. Mages huddled in dim corners, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of their grimoires, discussing arcane theories and debating over the best spells for particular scenarios.


    Lost in thought, Yzael didn''t notice a female figure with knife-like ears that coincided with Sun Elves had plopped themselves down just in front of her. "All by your Lonesome?" The stranger asked, tapping at the table


    The voice, soft yet commanding, pulled Yzael from her thoughts. The Sun Elf woman had a fair complexion that seemed to shimmer subtly under the dim tavern light. Her white hair, pure as freshly fallen snow, was neatly tied in a long braid that cascaded over one shoulder, adorned with intricate beads and feathers.


    But what caught Yzael''s attention the most was the woman''s attire. Clad in a thick, fur-lined tunic that was embroidered with intricate patterns of wolves and ravens, while cinched at the waist by a leather belt with ornate metalwork. Her boots were made of weathered hide, laced up tightly and came up to her mid-calf, providing both warmth and protection against the harsh Northern terrains.


    Yzael''s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to place where she might have seen such attire before. It was distinctively Northern, reminiscent of the lands far beyond the snowy peaks and frozen fjords.


    The Sun Elf, noticing Yzael''s scrutiny, extended a delicate hand, adorned with a silver ring that sparkled like the morning light. "Ulina," she introduced herself with a smile, "I''m the Tavern Mistress here. Couldn''t help but notice you''ve been sitting here alone for quite a while. And with a grimoire, no less. Are you perhaps¡­ waiting for your partners?"


    Hesitation from her bruised ego caused Yzael to look off to the side with flushed cheeks. But after a deep breath, the mage finally swallowed her pride as her fingers tightly wrapped around the edge of her grimoire, "I um¡­ I''m not... waiting for anyone." Yzael admitted with a voice quieter than she might have liked. "I thought perhaps¡­ I thought perhaps I might test the waters here."


    Ulina''s expression softened, her eyes showing a glint of understanding. "Ah, are you a solo freelancer, then?" she asked with genuine interest. "Or perhaps just looking for a group to join?"


    It took her a moment, but a few sips of her ale later Yzael finally gathered her thoughts. "Well¡­ I''ve always been more of a loner," she confessed. "But I¡¯m not opposed to the idea of working in a team."


    ¡°Hmmmm¡­¡± Ulina hummed while closing her eyes and resting her head on hand. "Going at it alone has its merits," Ulina continued after a brief moment of contemplation, "but it''s a treacherous world out here on the periphery, and even the most skilled can benefit from having allies."


    With a motion that caused Yzael to jump in her seat, Ulina abruptly knocked on the hard wood table and stood up. ¡°Ah! I got it!¡± The tavern mistress yelled when a thought struck her.


    She scanned the bustling tavern, her gaze stopping on a lone human seated at the farthest corner of the room. The man was engaged in a heated debate with his mug of ale, gesturing wildly and arguing with a dwarf about "superior brewing methods." He wore a scarred iron cuirass over a tattered gambeson, his scraggly dark brown hair was matted and unkempt, and a perpetual scowl seemed to be etched on the man''s face as he argued.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, you half pinted piss monger, this southern brew is way more refined than your gods-awful mountain swills!¡± the man exclaimed, sloshing some ale around for emphasis.


    The dwarf, stout and with a fiery beard that matched his temper, slammed his fist on the table. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know a good brew if it hit you square in the face, you long-legged lard fucker!¡±


    ¡°Gideon!¡± Ulina yelled as she squeezed through the crowd and made her way over. The woman¡¯s jovial voice seemed to pierce through the heated atmosphere like a beacon, drawing the attention of patrons nearby. "What have I told you about picking fights over drinks, especially with Thrain? It''s ale, for heavens'' sake!"


    Gideon glanced up at Ulina, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Ah, Ulina. Just providing some entertainment for your customers," he replied, gesturing dramatically to the surrounding audience.


    Thrain huffed, adjusting his extraordinarily long and thick beard. "He started it," he grumbled, pointing an accusing thumb at Gideon.


    ¡°Piss Monger.¡± Gideon muttered just loud enough for those nearby to hear as he turned to Ulina.


    "Lard fucker." Thrain immediately shot back, turning back to his drink.


    Ulina, already feeling exasperated, placed a hand on her forehead and rolled her eyes. "By the gods, you two are like children! Every week it''s something new."


    Not allowing Gideon to get another word in, Ulina suddenly grabbed the man¡¯s arm and, with surprising strength, yanked him off his chair. Gideon, caught off guard, stumbled but quickly regained his footing as he stumbled forward.


    "Hey! What in the infinite hells!?" he protested, trying to free his arm from her iron grip.


    ¡°Quiet, you!¡± Ulina scolded, her voice filled with authority that made even the noisiest patrons glance their way. "Or I''ll make you settle your tab all at once."


    The threat caused Gideon''s face to turn a shade paler. Everyone in the tavern knew of Gideon''s infamous tab, an ever-growing list of drinks and meals that Ulina had mercifully allowed to accumulate and the threat of having to pay it off all at once was more than enough to make even the most hardened Freelancer to cringe.


    With the large man finally subdued, Ulina briskly marched him through the dining area, weaving through the tables and patrons, until they reached Yzael''s little corner. She forcibly shoved the man into the seat opposite the mage, who had been observing the entire scene with wide eyes.


    ¡°Why in the world are you so strong¡­?¡± Gideon complained, rubbing his arm as he adjusted himself in his new seat.


    Ignoring the comment Ulina put on her best sale smile and turned to frazzled mage, "I hope you weren''t too attached to that quiet evening of yours!" The tavern mistress said with a wink, gesturing towards the still disgruntled Gideon. "Because I believe I''ve found the solution to your partnership problem!"


    Yzael raised an eyebrow, glancing from Ulina to Gideon with the look of trepidation on her face. "This is the solution?"


    Gideon opened his mouth to protest, but Ulina was having none of it as a loud smack rang out, causing the man¡¯s head to jolt forward.


    ¡°One more word out of you, and I''ll double your tab,¡± Ulina threatened with a menacing tone.


    The threat caused Gideon to immediately close his mouth and instead mutter something incoherent under his breath as he shrank into himself.


    Ulina took a deep breath, her expression softening as she addressed Yzael, "Alright, hear me out. You came here tonight looking for a partner and potentially a few starter jobs to get your foot in the door, correct?¡±


    Yzael nodded, "Ah¡­ Y-Yes, and preferably someone experienced. But, with all due respect, him?" She glanced warily at Gideon who looked like he wanted absolutely nothing to do with this.


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    Ulina smirked, "I know, I know. Gideon might not be the... friendliest face around here. But beneath that rough exterior is a man who''s completed more jobs successfully than most in the entire tavern! He''s reliable, skilled, and knows the ropes better than anyone."


    "You¡¯re going to need someone like him," Ulina continued. "Especially as a mage just starting to cut their teeth. He knows the ins and outs of freelancing and could guide you through the potential pitfalls that come with dealing with taskers.¡± The tavern mistress explained leaning forward on the table. ¡°You¡¯re going have to get someone to guide you through the complexities of different tasks too if you want to make it in this world. And we need living and experienced Freelancers, not dead ones!"


    A half-smirk played across Gideon¡¯s face as he scoffed. "Well, isn''t that the nicest thing you''ve ever said about me, Ulina? I''m touched."


    ¡°Shut up, brute.¡± Ulina rolled her eyes, eliciting a giggle from Yzael. ¡°No one¡¯s talking to you! I''m merely stating facts to help our mage friend here make an informed decision."


    Yzael, trying to hide her amusement, pondered on the information, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I appreciate your concern, Ulina. It''s just... partnering with someone is a significant decision.¡±


    A glint flickered in Ulina¡¯s eyes as she leaned in closer and spoke with a voice dripping with intrigue. "Well, now might just be the perfect time for you both to get to know each other.¡± She said, leaning in further. ¡°I''ve got a job that needs doing and the client is willing to pay 5 silver coins for it."


    Gideon, despite his initial bravado, found himself slightly distracted. He attempted to maintain his focus on the conversation, but his eyes occasionally betrayed him, drifting to Ulina''s exposed cleavage. The allure of the exposed skin caused his gaze to keep flickering back and forth, making him barely acknowledge the amount.


    ¡°5 s-silver eh?¡± Gideon replied, trying to keep his voice steady, but failed given the distraction.


    Ulina grinned mischievously, catching onto his flustered state. ¡°Indeed. Now, here¡¯s my proposal: I¡¯ll split it evenly between the two of you, which means 2 silver coins each. And 1 silver as a finder¡¯s fee for the tavern,¡± she explained, watching their reactions.


    Yzael nodded, pondering the split, "That¡­ Sounds reasonable."


    Gideon was about to voice his agreement when Ulina interrupted with a playful smirk. "Though for you, Gideon, considering you got a free show,¡± she teased, placing a hand delicately over the opening of her top, ¡°I think 1 silver will suffice."


    The man in question flushed a deep shade of red as he snapped his head towards the woman. ¡°Now wait just a minute!¡± He nearly shouted. ¡°That ain¡¯t fair Ulina! That ain¡¯t right!¡± Gideon desperately tried to find words to defend himself, but found it a challenge amidst the chuckles and giggles from the surrounding tables.


    ¡°Oh, lighten up Gideon!¡± Ulina laughed, slapping his back. ¡°Can¡¯t you take a joke? I¡¯m not actually going to shortchange you over some tits!"


    The tavern erupted in laughter, and even a table with a group of burly warriors seated at the table next to them joined in the fun, shouting, "You always fall for that shit, Gideon!" This was followed by a burst of laughter from the group.


    Gideon could only slump in his seat, realizing there was no way to salvage his dignity at this point. He muttered something under his breath, earning another round of laughter from the crowd.


    Trying to keep a straight face Yzael turned to Gideon with a playful glint in her eyes. "Though, I must say, Gideon, you aren''t going to leer at me too, are you?" She teased, placing a hand on her own, modest chest. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to have to brand you as a lecherous beast¡­¡±


    ¡°W-What!? NO!¡± Gideon replied, his head snapping between Yzael, Ulina and the warriors. ¡°Gods damnit!¡± The warrior said, slapping his hands into his own face in an exaggerated facepalm. "Why does everything always turn into a spectacle with you, Ulina?"


    Looking around, Ulina saw that the entire tavern was now a mix of boisterous laughter, playful jabs, and even some patrons toasting and buying a round of drink to celebrate Gideon''s "lecherous" behavior. Even some of the more stoic regulars were trying hard to suppress their smiles.


    With a flair, she stretched her arms out, gesturing towards the mage and warrior. "See? You two are getting along already!" Ulina declared, laughing heartily. ¡°Now are you going to accept the job or not?¡±


    Gideon groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if trying to massage away the headache that was starting to form. "Alright, alright! Fine!¡± He conceded, resting his elbow on the table. ¡°Just give us the details before you go off and pull another one of your stunts!"


    Yzael, still suppressing her giggles, looked between the two of them. "Well, with such a... warm welcome, how could I refuse?¡± She said sipping on her ale.


    Ulina beamed, her energy infectious. She grabbed a few items off another table and sorted them in the rough shape of the city and its surroundings. "The job''s simple, at least in theory," Ulina began, tracing a finger along a winding path on the map. "There''s been a series of disturbances along the route leading northeast just outside of town. Locals say it''s haunted, cursed, or whatever, but my client believes that scroungers are actually to blame and they¡¯ve set up a nest somewhere along the road. They''re causing trouble for the merchants and travelers. My client wants someone to investigate, and if it is a nest, to clear it out.¡±


    She paused, letting the information sink in. Then, she used a wooden fork to mark a spot on the makeshift map, not far from the town. ¡°Here,¡± she said, pointing, ¡°this is where the majority of the disturbances have been reported.¡± Ulina continued, looking at the two freelancers. ¡°People attacked or went missing in the night, you know the deal.¡±


    Gideon leaned in, inspecting the marked area. "That''s the old Dalrymple trail, isn''t it? Used to be a popular route for merchants until the landslides a few years back. Makes sense scroungers would make their nest there; it provides ample cover and any commonfolk passing by are easy prey."


    Yzael hummed in thought, her fingers tracing an arcane pattern on the surface of her grimoire. "Scroungers you say¡­?¡± Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. "I came across a few of those filthy things on my way here, on the northwestern road. Nasty little creatures with more claws than they do sense." Yzael wrinkled her nose as she remembered the scent of their burning flesh when she disposed of them.


    Ulina leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Northwestern road?." The woman hummed as she  tapped her foot, seemingly connecting the dots in her head. ¡°That all but confirms it then! There¡¯s a scrounger infestation near the town and you two,¡± She used both her hands to point at the pair. ¡°Are to get rid of it!¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡± Gideon said with a hint of hesitation in his voice, "I was hoping for another ale and maybe some breakfast first."


    A chuckle left Ulina¡¯s mouth as she hung her head in derision, allowing the man to get another glimpse of her cleavage. Gideon''s gaze lingered just a moment before he quickly caught himself, the memory of their earlier exchange fresh in his mind, and forcefully turned his gaze to the worn wooden table, feeling a hint of heat rise to his cheeks. It was clear he didn''t want to revisit the teasing from earlier.


    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Ulina relented, righting herself and brushing her braid behind her. ¡°I¡¯ll have some breakfast and an ale sent to your table, on the house.¡± She gave a knowing look and a wink. ¡°Consider it a gesture of goodwill since I¡¯m pairing you up with a newbie, but go get her kitted first.¡± Ulina finished, tilting her head towards the door before spinning around and taking off for the kitchen.


    "Staring again, Gideon?" Yzael teased with a mischievous smile plastered across her face, having caught his brief moment of weakness.


    Gideon grumbled, trying to deflect her teasing. "I don''t know what you''re talking about," he said as he quickly shimmied out of his seat.


    "Oh, please. Your face was as red as a ripe tomato," Yzael chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "But don''t worry, your secret''s safe with me, seeing as we¡¯re now partners.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no secret to keep.¡± Gideon responded quickly as a bead of sweat dripped down his neck. He attempted to regain some semblance of dignity, adjusting his gambeson and focusing on the door ahead. Yzael got up after him, her giggles still hanging in the air, and followed close behind.


    As they made their way toward the door, Yzael''s laughter faded into a more contemplative expression. ¡°Is she always like that?¡± she asked, nodding her head slightly in the direction of the kitchen where Ulina had disappeared.


    Gideon heaved a sigh, "Yes. Yes, she is. Every single time." He said, shaking his head. ¡°Her shieldmaiden friend Azeline is better at pushing buttons to be honest.¡±


    Yzael chuckled, offering a sympathetic nod in the warriors direction. "Well, I commend you for your patience then."


    They neared the door, and Gideon paused before opening it, turning to look at Yzael. "Are you sure you want me to be your partner?" he asked, his tone serious. "I''m not exactly the easiest person to get along with."


    Meeting his gaze, Yzael tilted her head in wonder before offering him a sweet smile. "You¡¯ve been decent to me so far.¡± She paused, her eyes reflecting sincerity. "Besides, everyone has their edges.¡±


    An awkward silence ensued as Gideon blinked in surprise, absorbing her words. The noise from the tavern seemed to fade into the background, and for a moment, all that existed was the space between the two of them.


    Rubbing the bridge of his nose in embarrassment, Gideon cleared his throat. "Well little lady¡­ Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep ya alive." He started as he pushed open the door, allowing the blinding sunlight to flood in. "You''re going to need some proper gear if we''re headed out beyond the city. Armor, weapons, provisions..."


    But as he continued, his words seemed to grow distant, like an echo fading into the vastness of an empty hall. Gideon¡¯s voice grew fainter, muddled, and indistinct. As he reached out to push the door open, a blinding light suddenly flooded in, momentarily overwhelming Yzael¡¯s senses.


    The comforting and familiar environment of the tavern faded away, replaced by the stark and sterile whiteness of a place she couldn¡¯t recognize. The rough and rustic wooden beams of the tavern ceiling gave way to a pristine and flat expanse overhead. The soft and ambient glow of lanterns was replaced by the harsh, clinical strips of light embedded into the ceiling.


    ¡°G¡­ Gid¡­.¡± Yzael managed to croak out, her voice barely audible with the foreign tube in her throat. ¡°Gideon¡­?¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 15

    As Relor surged through the rift, his immense form overshadowed the land beneath. The sheer magnitude of the majestic sovereign stirred the atmosphere, causing trees to sway and the grass to dance in his wake. His once resplendent golden feathers, which used to gleam with a near luminescent brilliance, were now sullied with ash, soot, and drenched in his own radiant blood.


    He was amongst the final few of the dragons to make the journey through the rift, joining those who had already passed, each bearing the wounds and weariness of a battle that had raged for over a day. Several of his kin lay sprawled upon the ground, their once mighty forms now heaving with the effort of each labored breath, completely drained from the exhausting ordeal.


    After finding an expanse large enough for his gargantuan size, Relor made for his descent, but it was far from the regal display befitting a creature of his grandeur. The sheer force of his landing caused the earth to shake,and as he tried to stabilize his massive frame, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through him, causing him to stagger dangerously.


    A deep, guttural roar of o the severity of his injuries. His massive legs, which had always held him aloft, were now the source of anguish which caused a string of ancient curses to burst from Relor¡¯s maw. His once resplendent form was a patchwork of gashes, bruises, and broken feathers, all inflicted by the arrival of those infernal mortals'' newest weapons.


    In the beginning, the "darts" they loosed at him and his kin were painful but manageable. The things would simply burst upon contact, bombarding them with burning heat and rattling shock waves, yet most dragons could continue fighting even after being struck multiple times. However, as the conflict wore on, those damnable mortals adapted, switching to¡­ more potent and effective iterations of their weapons.


    These newer "darts" the otherworlders employed, unlike their explosive predecessors, simply just slammed into you with unmatched speed. By the time you realized their hellish ¡®eye¡¯ was looking at you, it was too late, a solid bolt of vengeful fury that was seemingly unleashed by the  gods themselves was going to hit you.  And even if you knew they were coming, those damned things were far too fast to reliably dodge, at least not in the midst of battle with their metal locusts.


    ¡°You humiliate me with this retreat Korthax!¡± Relor bellowed with uncontrolled rage as he limped towards the camp with a group of humanoids emerging from it.


    Korthax, a white feather Dragonkin and the supreme commander of the invasion forces was already making his way towards the Sovereign with his head bowed low. ¡°I apologize, my Sovereign.¡± The General¡¯s voice was steady as he took a knee in subservience. "But this decision was not made lightly. If the flights fell, or heaven forbid, you fell, then whole swathes of the empire could be put at risk. I could not, would not, let that happen."


    Relor¡¯s fiery eyes glared down at Korthax, his body trembling not just from his injuries, but from the fury and frustration that boiled within. ¡°Fight another day?¡± he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°We¡¯re the mightiest of beings in all of existence, Korthax! Masters of the heavens! Rightful keeper of all realms! And now, we flee like prey from these... these mortals!?¡±


    Not another word was uttered from Korthax as he remained kowtowed in front of the massive entity in front of him. The Sovereign knew full well that Korthax¡¯s warnings about the overwhelming force beyond the rift proved painfully accurate. He also knew that the call to retreat was not only sound, but the only logical course of action, yet it infuriated Relor to his core.


    His once indomitable pride had been shattered, and the shame of this failure of a conquest was seeping throughout his very essence. The air grew tense, the very atmosphere electrified by Relor''s raw anger. Suddenly, with an explosive hiss, Relor lunged forward, jaws agape, his sharp teeth mere feet from Korthax''s face. Korthax, despite his initial shock, did not waver or show fear, instead he continued to show deference and kept his head low to the ground, fully aware of the wrath he had invoked but standing resolute in the face of possible death.


    The majestic beeing eyes were set ablaze with fury and bore into Korthax, searching, probing, seeking any hint of deceit or weakness. Yet, all he found was unwavering loyalty and a grim determination.


    With a guttural growl, Relor snapped his jaws shut, inches from Korthax¡¯s head, causing the general to flinch ever so slightly, though he held his ground. The Sovereign straightened up, towering over Korthax, his breathing heavy and labored from both his injuries and his barely contained rage.


    ¡°You dare to counsel me on matters of war, Korthax!?¡± Relor¡¯s voice was a dangerous whisper, filled with barely restrained anger. ¡°You, who have led us  into a failed campaign! You who have failed to gauge the enemies true strength! And you presume to know what is best!?"


    Korthax didn¡¯t utter a word, fully aware that any misplaced phrase could seal his fate. He maintained his stance of submission, eyes lowered, yet his voice when he spoke was steady and resolute. "I bear the burden of our defeat, my Sovereign. The miscalculations were mine, and I do not shy away from the consequences of my actions."


    Relor''s fiery gaze bore into Korthax ,the seething rage within the dragon was like a hellish inferno. Every muscle, every sinew of the Sovereign''s magnificent form was coiled in tension, poised on the knife''s edge between mercy and wrath. His wingtips quivered with barely contained energy, and his tail lashed out, displacing the air and creating minor whirlwinds.


    But in the end the large divine creature reared its head back and looked down at the prostrating general in disgust. "You should thank the emperor and the gods for mercy, Korthax," Relor growled, the heat from his breath making the air waver. "For if I was any less forgiving then I¡¯d see to it that not just you, but your entire lineage be turned to ash.¡±


    If he was capable of sweating, then Korthax would have felt a torrent of sweat pouring down the back of neck. Threats like those from dragons as ancient and mighty as the one in front of him weren¡¯t threats.


    They were promises.


    "You honor me with another chance, your greatness," Korthax responded with an unwavering  voice. "I understand the depth of my errors and the weight of your expectations. I shall work tirelessly to ensure that my actions henceforth reflect the unwavering loyalty and dedication I have for the emperor and his empire."


    The fury in the Sovereign''s eyes, now bore a calculating look. "Your words mean little now, Korthax, but I shall allow you to prove your worth.¡± Relor continued, his voice now carrying a tone of stern finality, ¡°You have one chance, and one alone. Fail, and there will be no mercy, no reprieve.¡±


    Korthax lowered himself further, pressing his forehead to the cold ground beneath him, signifying his utmost submission and respect. "Your grace, I will go before the emperor and the council and admit to my grievous errors. I shall spare no detail, holding nothing back, and will accept any punishment or duty they see fit to bestow upon me."


    Raising his head just slightly, enough to lock eyes with the majestic form of Relor, Korthax continued, "But, your grandeur, I must share a dire concern. I have felt the enemy''s fury, I have felt their tenacity.¡±


    The general paused as he carefully thought about the next few words that were going to leave his mouth. ¡±I¡­ I believe they will not rest on their laurels and will choose to be more problematic in  the future.¡±


    ¡°You talk in riddles! Speak plainly, wretch!¡± Relor boomed, his voice echoing across the vast landscape, causing a tremor in the ground beneath them.


    The general swallowed hard as his claws sunk deep into the earth. ¡°I fear they will not be sated with just chasing us away and instead, choose to pursue us, my Sovereign. Any civilization that powerful will not tolerate any kind of attack without retaliation.¡±


    Relor''s pupils narrowed, reflecting a mixture of irritation and contemplation. The mere thought that their adversaries might have the audacity to tread upon their sacred lands was unsettling. ¡°You imply that our strategic withdrawal could lead them straight to our empire''s doorstep?¡±


    Korthax pressed his head to the floor once more. ¡°Yes, my Sovereign.¡±


    The silence that followed was palpable. The wind howled around them, ruffling the dragon¡¯s massive wings and tousling Korthax¡¯s mane. The reality of the potential threat weighed heavily on Relor as he realized that was a very real possibility.


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    After what seemed like an eternity, The gargantuan dragon finally broke the silence. ¡°Then we must be swift and decisive. Return to the capital and inform the war council, we cannot be caught off guard.¡±


    Korthax pressed his head even deeper into the ground if it were all possible. ¡°At once, my Sovereign. Your will shall be done.¡±


    And with that, Relor let out a pained groan as the colossal dragon painstakingly lifted him off the ground. The vast sky was soon filled with a mesmerizing tapestry of dragons, their scales reflecting the sun''s rays in a myriad of dazzling colors. But not all dragons were capable of taking flight. Some, their bodies battered and wings torn from the earlier confrontations, could only muster enough strength to lift a few feet off the ground before collapsing back to the earth with a heart-wrenching thud.


    Releasing a breath he didn¡¯t realize he¡¯d been holding, Korthax looked up, following the path of Relor and the mass of dragons disappearing into the horizon, their forms becoming distant silhouettes against the setting sun. ¡°I live. What a delightful surprise.¡± The general murmured to himself with relief evident in his voice.


    Lira, who had been standing a good distance away just in case, finally made her way to his side. "Congratulations on your survival, general." She said, her voice holding a hint of amusement, her iridescent feathers shimmered in the sunlight.


    ¡°Thank you, Lira. It seems fate has other plans for me.¡± Korthax replied as he stood up and dusted himself off.


    His trusted adjutant nodded gracefully before darting to the dragons still sprawled out on the ground. Her voice softened, "And what of them? Those who could not join the Sovereign?"


    Korthax''s gaze followed hers, taking in the sight of the wounded and exhausted dragons, still struggling to muster the strength to rise. He stood up, his stance firm and resolute. "Leave them," he declared, his voice heavy with regret but unwavering. "They will rest and, in time, find their own way."


    The adjutant¡¯s gaze lingered on the  injured dragons for a moment, before offering a small shrug and snapping back to her charge. "Very well." she replied before proceeding to change her focus. "Now, on to the matters of the withdrawal. Do you mean to pull back to secondary line or-¡±


    ¡°I mean to completely pull out of the region.¡± Korthax cut her off with a sigh. ¡°After going over the details of the enemy¡¯s capabilities, I¡¯ve come to the conclusion that we are ill-equipped to face them in our current state."


    He motioned for Lira to follow him as he walked towards the encampment buzzing with activity. "I read about accounts of bandit-like raids that decimated the Daesyl¡¯s Emberthrower units." Korthax said, letting out another sight. ¡°They appeared out of the wooded areas like ghosts, launching lightning attacks with impunity.


    Lira''s eyebrows knitted in concern. "Emberthrowers? Those enormous 6 legged creatures that spit fire over the horizon? Don¡¯t they usually sit far behind the front lines?"


    Korthax nodded gravely. "Yep, and those ¡®bandits¡¯ I assume are actually highly-trained units that move swiftly and stealthily. They attack during the darkest hours and are able to see better than our own night-seeing creatures."


    ¡°Furthermore, those monsters have the ability to strike us with explosion magic out of seemingly nowhere.¡± The general put his hands to his eyes to massage the headache that was forming. ¡°Hitting critical units or our supply routes with more of those damn darts.


    Lira grimaced, clearly disturbed by the implication as the general continued ¡°Their explosive magic is unlike anything we¡¯ve encountered. Our barriers and protective enchantments don¡¯t seem to deter them. And these... darts, they come from such distances and at such speeds, we don¡¯t even get a warning.¡±


    Taking a moment to gaze at the horizon, Korthax added with an exhausted look, ¡°But what truly baffles me is their omniscience. It¡¯s as if they have the eyes of a Soulhawk perpetually hovering above us, watching our every move.¡± He glanced at Lira, searching for any sign of recognition. ¡°You remember the legends, don¡¯t you? The Soulhawk, an all-seeing entity, invisible and omnipresent. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that they have something akin to it.¡±


    Shaking her head, Lira looked at Korthax as if he was crazy. ¡°So not only can they strike from unseen distances, they launch raids with beings that can see in the night as if it were day, they seem to know where everyone one of our units are and their every move. But how?¡±


    Korthax stopped and stared long and hard at the woman before shrugging and continuing his trek. ¡°Hells if I know.¡± He said with a laugh that indicated he didn¡¯t believe his own words. ¡°But evidence points that everything in that report is true¡±


    Lira fell into step beside him, her usually confident stride now more measured, pensive. The encampment around them started to come alive as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a golden hue across tents and dragons alike. Sparks from fire pits spiraled upwards, and the distant murmurs of conversations were punctuated by the occasional roar of a restless dragon.


    ¡°So we fall back to the Empire proper, use the tributaries, vassals and everything in between as a buffer¡­?¡± She began, realizing what Korthax¡¯s plan really was.¡±


    The general simply nodded and entered the command tent. ¡°That¡¯s correct. That and the fact the barbarian territories also border the Necropolis and forest of those damned druids.¡± He sighed deeply, pouring over the vast map spread across the tent''s central table. "They''re known for their unpredictability and hatred for intruders. If the enemy pushes through the rift and into the buffer states, they''ll most likely be drawn into conflicts on multiple fronts."


    Lira''s eyes widened with realization, "You''re thinking of using the volatile nature of those in the area to our advantage. Keep these... demons busy and embroiled in skirmishes while the Empire formulates a proper response."


    Korthax smirked, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "Exactly. Those areas are volatile, dangerous, and filled with the untamed. If those otherworlders believe we are the only threat, they charge right in drawing the attention of Liches of the Necropolis or those damned druids in that damned forest."


    ¡°Hmmmm¡­¡± Lira hummed as she paced around the tent. "Turning our less-than-friendly neighbors and the very nature of the lands against them, let them temper our enemies¡­¡±


    ¡°And when they¡¯ve all exhausted themselves, we¡¯ll swoop in and kill 3 or 4 birds with one stone.¡± Korthax declared, slamming his hands on the table. ¡°We bide our time, they all fight each other and then take everything for ourselves. Every power, every faction, every stray creature they encounter will bend the knee to the Empire or be eradicated."


    Still deep in thought, Lira finally spoke, her voice tinged with worry. "Your plan is cunning, Korthax, but it also feels like we''re walking on a blade''s edge. If we miscalculate even once,if they''re stronger than we anticipate, the losses could be unimaginable. We''d be not just gambling with our troops, but whole swathes of our empire as collateral.¡±


    She took a deep breath as the worst case scenario ran through her head. "And let''s not forget, our retreat won''t go unnoticed. Other powerful kingdoms and empires have always had their eyes on our lands and resources. If we¡¯re routed again, they might be emboldened to strike."


    Looking up and meeting Lira¡¯s gaze with an intensity that seemed to pierce right through her, Korlax leaned in. "I''m well aware, Lira. But this is not a hasty decision; it''s a calculated risk. By letting the savage states act as buffers, they''ll inadvertently shield us. While the otherworlders are busy trying to navigate the hostile kingdoms and tribes, we''ll be on our own territory, watching and waiting. And while they''re embroiled in their battles, our spies will gather all the intelligence we need."


    ¡°We¡¯ll even pay lip service to those vultures looking to land grab,¡± Korthax continued. "We¡¯ll even feed those like the Holy Dominion and those filthly Beastkins selective information about these otherworlders, we can indirectly guide their actions, maybe even pit them against our new foes.¡± He said, waving his hand. ¡°It¡¯ll be especially easy with the plethora of equipment we¡¯ve captured.¡±


    Korthax excitedly drummed the table as his brain kept churning. ¡°And even some kingdoms, as opportunistic as they are, would rather face a known Empire than some otherworldly force fighting through otherworldly. We can foster unofficial relationships with those who''d want to see these new aggressors put in check."


    Lira still felt¡­ unsure about it all. She sensed that there were layers of complexity they couldn¡¯t quite grasp, especially with how unpredictable the outcome to this plan would actually be. ¡°It¡¯s a sound strategy, Korthax, but we''re venturing into uncharted territory here. We know nothing of the politics or motivations of these otherworlders. There¡¯s a lot of ¡®what ifs¡¯ here.¡±


    A sigh left Korthax''s mouth as he hung his head. "I understand your concerns, Lira. But we must also remember the damage these demons have already inflicted. They¡¯ve slain full-fledged dragons with ease and even managed to reliably wound a gods damned Celestial. Their strength is not to be underestimated. Either way, there are vast risks."


    Reflecting on the General¡¯s words, Lira paused and furrowed her brow. The deaths of adult and even elder dragons was already a significant blow. Crippling an eon old Celestial dragon like their Sovereigns was even more significant. The mere thought of a force capable of such feats sent chills down her spine.


    She swallowed hard. "I can¡¯t believe they have the power to do that. If they can harm Celestials, what chance do our mortal soldiers have?"


    Korthax nodded gravely. "Exactly. Our hand is being forced, and perhaps this gamble, with all its intricacies and unknowns, might be our best shot. We need to buy time, gather intelligence, and rely on the unpredictable nature of the savage lands to slow them down."


    The Adjutant looked down at the map laid out before them, tracing the territories with her fingers, feeling the weight of countless lives in her hands. The delicate balance of power, the unknowns, the potential consequences¡­  It was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming.


    Finally, she looked up, her eyes filled with resolve. "Alright, Korthax. As much as I hate to admit it, your plan may be our best shot I can think of¡­ Let''s draft a proposal for the Emperor."


    ¡°Come, we¡¯ll hammer out more details over time,¡± Korthax said, gesturing towards their magic imbued scrolls and ink.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 16

    The first rays of the sun broke over the eastern horizon, painting the Ohio landscape with hues of orange and gold. Yet, in contrast to this serene setting, the AH-64E Apache helicopters of 3rd Platoon, Bravo Squadron, surged forward, their rotors cutting through the morning air. Flying low and fast, they utilized the early morning light to their advantage, the sun at their backs casting long shadows in front of them and masking their approach on the horde heading towards New Philadelphia.


    "Warmonger, Rebound 1, heading 2-7-0," Chief Warrant Officer 4 Jessica ¡°Rebound¡± Moore''s voice echoed through the Battle Network. ¡°Moving to engage the main body of the horde.¡±


    "Hold one, Rebound," came the stern reply from HQ, a hint of urgency evident in the voice. "Rebound, we need you to divert immediately to heading 2-9-0. The troops downtown are being overrun, they need air support ASAP."


    Jessica¡¯s gunner, Warrant Officer Michael "Kanga" Rew, responded with a hint of skepticism, "Wait, what? What about the skimmers? Wouldn¡¯t we be sitting ducks further away from our formation?" Heasked over the local net.


    A brief moment of static ensued while Jessica mulled over the new instructions they¡¯d just received. The skimmers were fast, and there was something to be said about protection in numbers, especially with the Marine¡¯s AH-1Z Vipers flying around with Sidewinder missiles.


    ¡°Warmonger, say again? Confirm you want us to break off?¡± Jessica inquired with a voice full of concern. ¡°We¡¯d be extremely vulnerable on our own out there.¡±


    There was another pause that put everyone on edge before a reply finally came crackling through the radio as the noise of the operations center filtered in through the background. "Intel is reporting that the skimmers, along with the main body of dragons, are being pulled back. Airspace over New Philadelphia is clear. But our boys on the ground don¡¯t have the luxury of waiting. They''re in a tight spot. They need you there, now."


    Michael threw his head over his shoulder and exchanged glances with his pilot in command before the woman returned to comms, ¡°Understood Warmonger. Breaking right, heading 2-9-0.¡±


    Switching to her platoon communication, Jessica started issuing instructions, splitting the platoon up into flights of two. "Listen up, we¡¯re going to split into flights to ensure we aren''t putting all our eggs in one basket in case the intel is off. Boomer, you¡¯re gonna pair up with Agony, Costco you''re with me. We''re going to hit them from the east, Boomer, you and agony are gonna divert and come at them from the north over the town."


    A series of affirmatives resound over the radio, each pilot acknowledging their new orders as Apaches shifted seamlessly into their new formations while their engines whined. Jessica watched as the two helicopters broke off and flew north to fulfill their new purpose. But her attention quickly shifted to her own path and the silhouette of Costco''s Apache beside hers.


    ¡°We¡¯re totally going to die.¡± Warrant Officer 2 Giovanni ¡°Costco¡± Fontana, always one to make a joke when things seemed bleak, spoke up with a chuckle.


    Jessica grinned and shook her head at the familiar bravado and glanced at the idiot. ¡°Shut up, Gio.¡±


    As they steadily made their way to the town, the morning sun cast both of the aircraft shadows over the small road below. The serene beauty almost tricked Jessica into thinking this was another training mission to get some extra stick time, but reality quickly set in as she spotted heavy smoke plumes of the burning town billowing over the horizon.


    Giovanni¡¯s playful demeanor shifted, and he tightened his grip on the Apache''s controls. ¡°You seeing that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jessica replied, narrowing her eyes at the dark clouds in the distance. ¡°Looks like they couldn¡¯t hold them at the outskirts...¡±


    Their path had been strategic, keeping them low and close to the winding roads, offering them the protective cloak of the trees and terrain. But the impending urgency dictated a change in strategy. The spiraling plumes of smoke intensified as they drew closer, signaling that the town was bearing the brunt of the onslaught.


    ¡°Rebound, this is Costco. We should move faster, feed from the drones is showing that things are looking bad.¡± Giovanni immediately transitioned to their call signs as a grave undertone replaced his usual casual voice.


    Clenching her teeth, Jessica wrestled with the decision of keeping things slow and steady or opt for a more direct approach and pull up. The looming threat of skimmers still hung over her like a shadow, if ISR was incorrect, they¡¯d be on top of them like flies on shit. ¡°Damn it! Alright. Break the tree line, we¡¯re punching it straight through to town and hope that HQ hasn¡¯t fucked us."


    ¡°Copy that, Rebound.¡± The second Apache confirmed as both of them pulled up on their flight controls, sending the helicopters soaring upwards.


    The duo elevated sharply, slicing through the morning mist that had settled above the treetops. The sudden exposure to open skies brought with it a heightened vulnerability and they braced for the worst. Yet as the four pilots scanned the horizon looking for any sign of giant flying lizards, they were greeted with nothing but the open expanse of the Ohio sky.


    The expected threat didn¡¯t materialize.


    ¡°Horizon¡¯s clear, climb!¡± Jessica ordered, nudging her aircraft higher, searching for that perfect vantage point. Giovanni¡¯s Apache followed suit, their rotors humming in harmony as they rose.


    From their new altitude, the grim tapestry of the battle unfurled beneath them. The once tranquil town of New Philadelphia was now a maelstrom. Flames and explosions of varying sizes, some dwarfing the buildings themselves, completely consumed the town. However, what struck Jessica most was the bizarre interplay of colors that mixed in with the chaos. Unnatural greens, purples, and violets that hinted at the otherworldly powers shimmered in the air, while strange hexagonal blues acting as shields, causing ordinance to detonate prematurely or simply bounce off.


    "I''ve never seen anything like this," Giovanni murmured, equal parts awed and horrified.


    As they neared the town they saw that the ground combat below was like watching a blend of modern warfare mixed in with scenes straight out of a fantasy film. Soldiers fired conventional weapons while mages, identified by the colored spell they flung around, sent the elemental hurling in every which direction. The landscape was filled with pockets of clashes: soldiers taking on strange creatures, tanks battling gigantic hyena-like monsters, and Bradley¡¯s trying to bring down the large blue shield that was steadily marching towards them.


    ¡°Rebound 1 and 2 checking in, Flight of 2 Apaches holding east 5 miles, ordinance to follow.¡± Jessica made the call for both of them, letting the ground forces know that they were in position and ready to provide close air support.


    A near unintelligible voice crackled back on the radio with the intense sounds of gunfire in the background, "Roger! Be advised we¡¯re-¡± The voice suddenly cut off as more intense gunfire drowned his voice out. ¡°We¡¯re north of the river, and west of the burning office building!"


    Jessica and Giovanni flew their aircraft closer to the town as the gunners on board each Apache worked their sensors, trying to identify the mentioned landmarks. They relied heavily on the thermal imaging system and laser rangefinders to zero in on the exact locations amidst the chaos.


    ¡°Got ¡®em.¡± Michael called out as he used the high-resolution sensor suite to zoom in on the soldiers fighting positions.


    And what he saw was an absolute cluster fuck. Burning and molten military vehicles dotted the entire town as friendly and enemy lines mixed into a chaotic melee. The once-paved roads were cracked, torn apart by a mix of explosive munitions and raw elemental power. The intersections became whirlwinds of combat, where soldiers became overrun with otherworldly creatures.


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    The defenders were barely holding on by a thread as their lines slow started to crumble under the weight of the floods of enemy forces.


    ¡°Be advised, you got a whole bunch of guys coming up at you from the south.¡± Michael''s voice crackled over the radio as he monitored the situation. ¡°They¡¯re all trying to maneuver on your position through the alleyways.¡±


    ¡°Roger, you¡¯re cleared hot on any moving targets to our south and to our east!!¡± The voice responded, the sound of the raging battle nearly drowning out his voice. ¡°Be advised, we have friendlies to the north and the west! Commanders initials, Papa, Mike! Engage, engage!¡±


    Jessica tightened her grip on the flight controls as the weight of the situation pressed on her. Her aircraft maneuvered closer and hovered in place allowing Michael a steady platform to choose his targets.


    ¡°Rebound 1 copies all, we will be engaging.¡± Michael used his  sensors to track dozens upon dozens of what seemed to be werewolves and one of those massive Hyena-like creatures. All of them were flooding up the road and bolting towards friendly positions in a frenzied manner.


    However he painted the Hyena with his rangefinder and laser and got back on the radio. ¡°We got a whole bunch of guys maneuvering, we¡¯re engaging.¡± The gunner said as a Hellfire missile slid off the rack with a deadly hissed and arced up towards the sky.


    Michael could see the heatwave from the missile''s rocket plume, and just a few moments later, a massive explosion encompassed the Hyena, causing it to crumple to the and skid along the asphalt. Not wasting time, the gunner switched to his 30mm chain gun and went cyclic on the beasts sprinting up the road.


    The helicopter shuddered with each shot, as 30mm rounds were expelled from the helicopter at an astonishing rate. Each round created plumes of death as they hit the ground, showering everyone and everything in their vicinity. Beings who caught direct hits were blown apart while others were sent tumbling in disarray, clutching at their body.. Those that survived the initial onslaught were left disoriented, scrambling for cover.


    With each turn of the head, the gunner reaped death with his Target Acquisition Sight (TADS) attached to his helmet. This allowed the gunner to simply turn his head in order to control the Chain gun mounted beneath the fuselage with lethal precision. His Forward Look Infrared (FLIR) system painted the world in black and white, illuminating heat signatures and making it so no one could hide from his sight.


    Giovanni mirrored the action as his own Apache loosed a Hellfire missile at another large creature, this one resembling a towering ogre with a massive pot belly and thick, armored skin. The missile found its mark, the impact igniting a ball of fire, leaving only a charred, smoldering carcass in its wake.


    ¡°Be advised you still have a massive force converging on your position from south to north.¡± Jessica warned through the radio, her eyes darting between the gun cam feed and their surroundings. There was still a high probability of them being intercepted by a skimmer and she needed to keep her head on a swivel.


    The soldier on the other end, sounding breathless, responded, ¡°Roger that, we''re moving! We''re moving west, continue to engage!¡±


    Jessica glanced at the navigation screen to get a bead on the soldier''s new position. "Copy, covering your movement to the west." She replied as the aircraft shuddered from another long volley of 30mm that was released.


    Michael was relentless. The man continued to focus his fire and rain death on the largest clusters of enemies that were foolish enough to clump together. But then, something on his FLIR system caught his attention. A cluster of humanoid figures, each of varying sizes, were slowly progressing much further down the road. They were grouped tightly around another humanoid figure, distinct from the rest. Unlike the others, this figure emitted an unusual energy that barely registered on Michael''s FLIR, revealing itself as a series of interconnected hexagons that formed a semi circle around the group.


    Intrigued, Michael zoomed in for a closer look. The shield seemed to be focused primarily in the direction of the ongoing conflict, protecting the figures behind it from any harm. The energy source was complex and unlike anything he''d seen in the field before. It was clear that this shield was the reason why this particular group was untouched by the ongoing firefight.


    Hypothesizing the figure at its center would be key to taking down this defensive mechanism, Michael quickly switched over to his Hellfires. The gunner painted the target with his laser and then loosed a Hellfire missile.


    The missile arced upwards, leaving a heat distorted air in its wake before descending rapidly towards its target.


    ¡°God damn!¡± Jessica shouted in surprise when she saw the missile impact from her own feed.


    The dull blue barrier had immediately flickered out, but this was accompanied by bodies and¡­ body parts flying in every which way. Meanwhile, Michael chose to show no mercy for the stunned survivors and switched to his 30mm once again, raining down a deadly hail of high explosive rounds upon them.


    Tiny explosions showered the formations that slowly trailed behind the former barrier, peppering everyone with shrapnel. The two pilots watched from their aerial vantage point as the mass of alien soldiers panicked. The once-cohesive unit that had been shielded was now a scattering of individual fighters desperately seeking cover and regrouping.


    "Rebound 2, this is Rebound 1. Eyes on a large enemy formation just north of the river and south of the intersection of the burning office building. Coordinating fire. Over." Michael''s voice was calm and measured over the radio as he adjusted the Apache''s fire to the where the invaders were trying to make their escape.


    "Copy, Rebound 1. Tally on your target. Engaging with Hellfires, over." The voice of Rebound 2''s gunner crackled back.


    Jessica banked the Apache slightly to give Michael a better firing angle. "You¡¯re a fucking demon, Mike," she chuckled, watching the enemy troops scramble back towards their comrades as their escape avenue erupted into shards of death.


    ¡°Fuck ¡®em.¡± Michael replied as kept up the pressure


    A sudden, intense flare of light broke the night as the telltale trail of a Hellfire missile from Rebound 2''s Apache raced towards the ground. Michael could almost feel the raw energy in the air just seconds before the missile made contact.The very ground seemed to tremble, even from their altitude. The missile detonated in the heart of the alien formation, creating another catastrophic explosion that instantly consumed scores of the tightly clustered enemy.


    Michael launched his own Hellfire and watched as the concussive force of the explosion expanded outward, turning every being within its radius into mere fragments, indistinguishable from the next.


    From the northeast, the unmistakable roar of rotors heralded the arrival of their redirects as two more Apache attack helicopters from their platoon emerged over the horizon, their silhouettes menacing against the backdrop of the burning town below.


    ¡°Rebound 1, this is Rebound 3. Looks like you''ve been having a party without us," joked the lead pilot of the reinforcing choppers. ¡°Be advised, 2 more Apaches on station, ordinance to follow.¡± He announced to the beleaguered friendly ground forces.


    Jessica grinned while adjusting her flight pattern. "Glad you could join us. We¡¯ve been thinning the herd, but there''s plenty left for everyone."


    The morning grew even brighter as the newly arrived Apaches began to unleash their own versions of hell onto the alien invaders below. Alien Ogres and the hulking, nimble Hyenas that were systematically wiped out by the air to ground missiles, leaving the poor fucking infantry to run head first into tank and machine gun fire with no support.


    "Rebound 1, tallying your previous targets. We''re going to take the east side. Light up anything that moves," Rebound 4''s gunner reported, their Apache banking smoothly to position for optimal fire.


    "Copy that, Rebound 4. Watch out for the structures on the east side; there''s been squirters holding up in there," Jessica advised, as she peered at the horizon one more time. The Pilot-in-Command tilted the Apache to provide a clearer line of sight for her gunner to give him the best firing angles possible.


    As Michael kept dispatching his deadly rounds below, Jessica¡¯s attention remained southward, always alert for any sign of the aerial skimmers they were so accustomed to encountering. It seemed odd; every time they were in the thick of it, the agile skimmers were their most prominent aerial threat. They were fast, nimble, and notoriously hard to shake off once they had you in their sights.


    The realization dawned on her slowly, a mix of surprise and disbelief. Were they not being intercepted because they were too low on the enemy''s priority list? Or was it something else? She glanced over the HUD, then down to the burning town, then back up to the empty skies. "Maybe they''ve actually left," she murmured, more to herself than to Michael.


    ¡°What?¡± Michael asked, momentarily looking away from the targeting system.


    ¡°They¡¯ve pulled back. The skimmers... the air support... it''s gone. They''ve left their ground forces to fend for themselves," Jessica cringed as she watched another detonation in the street that sent people flying.


    Michael refocused on his feed and let loose another round of 30mm causing the enemy''s ground troops to scatter and retreat from the devastating firepower raining down on them. ¡°Good, fuck ¡®em.¡±


    Jessica could do nothing but let out another chuckle as she made one more pass over the now blunted enemy assault. She almost felt a strange twinge of pity, seeing the desperate alien soldiers below, clearly overwhelmed and outmatched without the support they were probably counting on. But that sentiment was regulated to an ¡®almost¡¯. They chose to come here, after all.


    "Poor fucking infantry, indeed." She laughed as the chaingun on her aircraft caused it to shudder one more time.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 17

    If there was a word to describe how 1st Lieutenant DuPont felt at this current moment, it was exhaustion. Complete and utter exhaustion


    With the afternoon sun oppressively beating down on him, the Lieutenant found himself lazily sitting on top of a destroyed National Guard Humvee, his combat boots dangling over the side. The Humvee''s desert tan paint was marred with scorch marks and several massive holes, a grim testament to the fierce battle that had recently taken place.


    Looking down at his own combat fatigues, DuPont noticed that they were smeared with dirt, sweat, and maybe even a bit of blood, but he couldn''t quite tell whether it was his or someone else''s. All he knew was that he was simply too tired to give any kind of shit at the moment. Instead he considered whether all of this had just been some horrible fever dream or if someone had spiked his canteen with an extreme amount of acid.


    DuPont¡¯s fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the metal as his weary eyes took in another of his Bradleys, its front end and turret eaten away by what appeared to be an acid-like liquid. The vibrant emerald corrosion juxtaposed with the harsh reality of the situation: yet another piece of heavy equipment lost, but thankfully, not the crew. After facing the large variety of creatures in sustained combat, his men knew better than to stick around and wait to see what happened after being sprayed by something.


    Looking around the once quiet and quaint Appalachian town, DuPont couldn''t help but feel a deep sense of loss and bewilderment. The town, once probably filled with life and laughter, now lay in ruins after the sheer brutality that had been thrust into it. Buildings that once stood proud were now nothing but piles of rubble, collapsed under the combination of massive magical creatures and modern ordnance.


    Fires raged uncontrollably, consuming what little remained of the town. The acrid smoke filled the air, teared the eyes, and the heat was oppressive, even from a distance. DuPont could see cars and military equipment, frozen in place in the middle of the road, their shapes twisted and contorted in ways that defied logic. He couldn''t even begin to comprehend the forces at play that could cause such things.


    Turning his head down towards the street, the Lieutenant¡¯s eye then fell upon a scene of carnage. Spread out before him was a sight straight out of a twisted fairytale. An enormous ogre-like creature lay on its back with a gaping wound in its grotesque belly, surrounded by enough blood to fill up a public pool. Behind it, strewn in chaotic disarray, were the corpses of other beings.


    While a good chunk of them were humans or elves kitted with equipment straight out of a fantasy game, others were simply humanoid in shape. Scattered around, DuPont noticed yellowish skinned creatures that he could only describe as Goblins were among their ranks, along with those lizard-like kobolds, and more of those suicidal werewolves.


    Suddenly, out of nowhere, his musings were abruptly interrupted by a sharp hissing noise just above him. Glancing up, he watched an FGM-148 Javelin missile suddenly drop a foot or two before its rocket engine engaged to send it arcing its way into the distance from atop a nearby building. The once deafening sounds of warfare had largely dissipated into an eerie post-battle calm, but there were still occasional skirmishes as gunfire or muffled thuds of an armored vehicle''s main gun echoing throughout the ruined town.


    ¡°Any idea why they just left their own to die?¡± Sergeant First Class Hofmann, DuPont¡¯s Platoon Sergeant, spoke up as he wandered next to him, equally as worn out and disheveled. Hofmann hadn¡¯t even bothered to remove his tanker helmet. He leaned against the Humvee and dug his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.


    DuPont didn¡¯t respond immediately, too lost in his own thoughts and the sights before him. After a moment, he finally managed a tired shrug, his voice heavy with fatigue as he spoke, "Who the fuck knows." His gaze drifted towards the horizon, where he had expected to see the skies filled with a chaotic dance of dragons and jets. But now, the skies were empty, eerily quiet.


    The contrast between the expectations of war and the reality before him was stark. Those mythical being dancing around the sky should have been an awe-inspiring sight, yet their absence now left a void, a silence that was almost more unnerving than the cacophony of battle.


    Only just a few hours ago an intense ballet of dragons and jets had danced in the sky. But now, the skies were eerily silent, and empty. Now only just the sounds of beating helicopter blades hunting down any survivors and the roar of patrolling american airpower.


    Hofmann rubbed his eyes before, glancing towards DuPont. "You think they''re regrouping? Planning something bigger?" The underlying concern in his voice was palpable.


    ¡°Doubt that.¡± DuPont replied, sliding down to the ground. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have given up on contesting airspace if they did.¡± The Lieutenant started checking his kit to make sure he was good on ammo before striding forward to where the rest of his platoon was waiting. ¡°From what we''ve seen so far, they play for keeps. If they had something bigger up their sleeve, they would have shown it by now."


    Following after his Platoon Leader, squinted his eyes towards the horizon. "So they just¡­ up and left?


    "Seems that way," DuPont responded, his gaze turned towards windows and rubble, searching for any sign of movement.


    Clearly not satisfied with the lack of answers, Hofmann offered a frown. "But why? Why attack Ohio? There¡¯s nothing here!"


    "Why the hell would I know, Hofmann?" DuPont replied, his tone laced with fatigue. "I¡¯m not paid enough to know. And besides, I don¡¯t think anyone knows, considering how panicked and disorganized command is right now."


    Hofmann gave a disgruntled grunt, as he shook his head, but as they neared their destination, they overheard an animated discussion among their soldiers.


    "You¡¯re a furry Jackson, between that small lizard thing and the werewolf, which one do you think you¡¯d prefer?" one soldier looked over to another as they kept their weapons trained towards the front lines


    Jackson, the designated ''furry'' of the platoon, rolled his eyes and readjusted the M-249 SAW in his grip. "Seriously? You think this is the time for that shit?" He hesitated, glancing sideways with a smirk. "But, since you asked, probably the werewolf.¡±


    Laughter erupted among the soldiers while both Hofmann and DuPont stood behind them with a look that said they didn¡¯t want to be associated with the degenerate in front of them.


    ¡°I mean, have you seen the legs on those things?" Jackson continued enthusiastically, oblivious to his platoon sergeant and platoon leader¡¯s evident discomfort. "Ripped, man. They''ve got these powerful thighs and calves¡­ Like, no wonder they run so fast. they¡¯ve got this wild, untamed beauty about them.¡±


    The soldier continued to unashamedly gush. ¡°Both the females and males are massive, but the males simply just tower over everyone. You can see the raw power in their muscles, and their jaws... man, I wouldn''t want to be caught in those.


    ¡°And the females,¡± Jackson continued, his eyes lighting up, ¡°they¡¯re something else. A bit smaller, sure, but just as fierce. I can only imagine their fur is softer, smoother, and their eyes... Man¡­ They just stare right into your soul.¡±


    Another soldier, a wiry man named Lee, edged closer, intrigued by the discussion. "Talking about werewolves, eh? But have you seen the goblins?" He nodded towards a short greenish yellow figure slumped against a wall.


    The man smirked. "Now that''s what I call a compact bundle of beauty. I mean, look at her. She¡¯s petite, yes, but there¡¯s an undeniable scrappiness to her. She''s got that well proportioned shape too?¡±


    Lee then gave a chef''s kiss. ¡°Far better than your roid raging mutts," he teased. "Her posture, even when slumped, speaks of grace and agility. Those sharp ears of hers, probably picking up every little whisper, even our conversation right now."


    ¡°Sure she isn¡¯t as voluptuous as the furries, but-¡± He tried to get out, but was interrupted.


    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you all?¡± Hofmann¡¯s stern and disgusted voice cut through the conversation causing everyone to snap their head back to see both their platoon sergeant and their lieutenant standing behind them with a repulsed snarl on either face.


    In an instant the chatter and laughter that filled the line had evaporated and instead, turned into a heavy silence.


    Lieutenant DuPont looked down on his men with a look that said he was looking at literal sacks of shit. ¡°You people are fucking disgusting.¡± He said with his voice dripping with definitive disdain. ¡®We just killed these¡­ THINGS. And now you¡¯re talking about wanting to fuck them?¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    DuPont''s face paled, a look of profound disturbance replacing the initial disgust. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over each of the men. Shaking his head slowly, he whispered more to himself than to the soldiers, "Jesus Christ¡­ I¡¯m leading a bunch of freaks¡­"


    Hofmann''s jaw tightened, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered. With a deep sigh, he locked eyes with each soldier, his gaze piercing and unyielding. "Look," he began, his voice gruff, "whatever''s been said here stays here. For my own sanity''s sake, I''ll try to pretend I never heard a word of it." Without waiting for a response, Hofmann turned sharply and began walking towards his Bradley fighting vehicle parked a short distance away.


    ¡­


    ¡°... Were we just kink shamed by the Lieutenant?¡± Was the last thing Hofmann heard as he walked up the ramp of his Bradley to join the rest of his crew.


    As the dust settled on the ruins of New Philadelphia, the distant roar of engines began to fill the air. The sound grew louder and more insistent, culminating in a ground-shaking rumble that drowned out the soldier''s playful banter. Soon, the streets were filled with the unmistakable shapes of the more modern M1A2 SEPv3 tanks, their heavy treads kicking up dust and debris as they rolled forward in an impressive display of military might.


    Behind the leading tanks were columns of Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles and Joint Light Tactical Vehicles (JLTVs) full to the brim with fresh soldiers.


    ¡°Looks like the reinforcements finally arrived.¡± Sergeant Kim, Hofmann¡¯s gunner, spoke up, trying to mask the emotion in his voice. But Hofmann, knowing the man, could sense the relief, disbelief, and shock behind Kim''s words.


    "Yeah," Hofmann replied quietly, letting out a slow exhale. "To be honest, I legitimately thought there was no way we were making it out of that alive."


    Suddenly, The Bradley¡¯s driver, Corporal Santiago, laughed so hard that it rang throughout the vehicle. ¡°Que odioso! ustedes estan bien dramaticos!! Come on, man," Santiago grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "There was no way we were going to kick the bucket, we''re like the main characters of a movie, bro!¡±


    ¡°Santiago¡­¡± Sergeant Kim groaned as he slammed his head against the wall. ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡±


    Santiago just laughed louder, "Oye! Just trying to lighten the mood, mi amigo."


    Shaking his head, Hofmann climbed out of the Commander''s cupola and took in the sight of dismounting soldiers starting to slowly, but surely comb through the streets and building in search for any stragglers. Turning his head, he noticed that his Lieutenant was lethargically having a conversation with what appeared to be the commanding officer of this outfit.


    ¡°Colonel Hastings, 4th infantry.¡± The Colonel introduced himself, extending a firm hand towards the Lieutenant. ¡°Out-fucking-standing work you and your boys have done here. I''ve been briefed about the hell you went through. ¡±


    The Lieutenant, visibly tired and covered in the remnants of the city''s ash and smeared with blood, offered a weak but respectful salute before taking the Colonel¡¯s hand. "Lieutenant DuPont, sir. We did what we had to do."


    Hastings nodded, taking a moment to observe the men around him. Everywhere he looked were completely exhausted and battleworn warriors did their best to stay awake and aware as they maintained their fighting positions. "Listen, Lieutenant," Colonel Hastings began, lowering his voice as he leaned closer. ¡°Have you and your boys get some chow and rest, We''ll handle the mop-up from here."


    DuPont wanted to jump for joy at the words, but it still never hurt to play the big army politics game and get some good officer brownie points. Taking one good look around at his weary crew, the Lieutenant looked back at the Colonel. "We can still fight," he replied, making his voice a little hoarser than normal.


    The Colonel gently put a hand on DuPont''s shoulder. "You¡¯re a fucking hero, DuPont.¡± The gruff man said with a smirk. ¡°But we¡¯d like to blast some alien ass as well. We can¡¯t let you have all the fun!¡±


    A light laugh left DuPonts mouth as the tension visibly left his face. "I suppose we can share some of the glory, sir."


    "That''s the spirit," Colonel Hastings replied, chuckling. "Now get out of here, Lieutenant. You all look beat to shit!"


    With the conversation concluded, DuPont gave one more salute before turning around and walking away. Quickly turning his head, he saw that the Colonel was busy issuing commands to his troops who were bustling around, setting up defenses and preparing for the cleanup operation.


    One more jolt of energy surged through DuPont as he pumped his fist in joy. Finally someone else was going to deal with this garbage.


    "Alright, you freaks!" DuPont shouted to his unit as he rejoined them. The men, despite their fatigue, looked up attentively, waiting for their Lieutenant''s words. "This is the 4th Infantry¡¯s problem now, so let''s make ourselves scarce! Find some chow, grab whatever water you can, and find the nearest rock to crawl under!"


    The unit responded with a mix of cheers and relieved chuckles. They were all eager to get some well deserved rest after enduring what seemed like endless fighting. It was time for their fresh and well-supplied contemporaries to take the helm and kick the invaders out of their land. But they knew they were going to have to get back to the grind sooner than later.


    There was still a lot of work to do.


    The armies of the horde, though broken, had fragmented and dispersed into the vast terrains. Creatures and people of all kinds fled in mass into the Appalachian countryside, turning the once-peaceful region into a hotspot of fugitives and skirmishes.


    And as the sun drifted slowly downwards onto the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange, the hordes'' most dreaded hunters treaded softly through the hills and forest of Ohio. Captain Coleman and his elite special forces team slowly crept through the foliage with guns raised and eyes scanning. Occasionally the sharp staccatos of suppressed gunfire wound echo out followed by a death-curdling screech. They were the predators in this new twisted game, stalking their prey and eliminating them with lethal precision.


    As Coleman and his team progressed, a small errant twitch caused the man to snap his weapon towards a bush not more than 10 meters away. In quick succession, the man let loose a 5 round burst from his rifle.


    Suddenly, a small reptilian creature with dark scales, sharp pointed horns atop its head, and piercing yellow eyes let out a pained screech and stumbled out of its concealment. The creature, garbed in tattered blue robes adorned with worn belts and pouches, tried to scramble away. Its long, sinewy tail trailed behind it as it moved, and in its hand, it clutched at its wounds, however the thing only managed to move a few meters falling flat on its face.


    The thing kicked and thrashed wildly for a few moments, letting out desperate, rasping breaths as it tried to find strength to flee further. But Coleman, mercilessly ended the creatures suffering and aimed his rifle at the head of the small monster. With a squeeze of the trigger, the small lizard violently seized up before its body finally relaxed and accepted its fate.


    Without missing a beat, the group of elite soldiers continued on their path, their boots crunching softly against the forest floor. The dense canopy overhead shielded them from the sun''s rays, casting distorted shadows on the ground.


    As Coleman approached the body, the man kicked over the body and stared down at the crude, yet intricate designs on its long padded and baggy robe. Not too far away, the man then spotted the thing¡¯s weapon. It was an unusual design, seeming like a fusion between a mage''s staff and a spear. Intriguingly, a strange, smooth stone was embedded just beneath the blade, encased and protected by sturdy iron bands. The staff-spear leaned casually against a nearby tree, suggesting its owner hadn''t expected any danger.


    Just a few steps from the fallen creature, was an oddity on the forest floor. A small opening, seemingly inconspicuous at first, but upon closer inspection, it was shockingly deep. It appeared as though something or¡­ someone had burrowed into the ground, carving out a subterranean path or possibly a hideout.


    ¡°Got something over here.¡± Coleman said, causing his team to stop dead in their tracks.


    With a simple hand gesture, the closest of his team quickly converged on the hole with their weapons pointed at the entrance, while others swiftly formed a protective ring around the area, ensuring no surprises from the surrounding foliage.


    Bennett was closest to the team¡¯s leader and together, they moved closer, their boots making almost no sound on the forest floor. With synchronized precision, both of the special forces soldiers leaned over the hole and thumbed their tactical flashlights, sending blinding beams to pierce the darkness below. With the entrance fully illuminated, they revealed another of the lizard creatures trying to clamber up, its eyes reflecting a mix of pain and fear.


    Suddenly caught in the blinding light, the creature let out a distressed chirp and instinctively shielded its eyes and without hesitation, both Coleman and Bennett unloaded their rifles.


    Suppressed crack after crack rang out as the bullets met their mark. The creature tumbled backward deeper with the tunnel, completely riddled with holes.


    Taking no chances, the two moved to ensure that any more threats deeper within were to be neutralized. They both reached for the grenades in their pouches and both pulled their pins simultaneously. With swift, practiced movements, they threw the explosives into the abyss below.


    "Frag out!" they yelled in unison, signaling the impending explosion.


    The team instinctively took a step back and waited approximately 4 or 5 seconds before a muffled explosion echoed from the depths of the tunnel, followed by a plume of smoke and debris erupting from the entrance. The ground shuddered slightly under their feet, and the eerie silence that followed was soon replaced by the muted sounds of pained squeals.


    Clicking his tongue, Coleman took a deep breath and spun around, "Frag ''em again." He ordered as his hand went to his push-to-talk attached to his plate carrier.


    As Coleman walked away, Bennett pulled out another fragmentation grenade and pulled the pin. "Frag out!"


    "Warmonger, this is Baron, over." Coleman radioed to command.


    A brief pause ensued before a response crackled through the radio. "Baron, this is Warmonger. Send traffic, over."


    Coleman took another deep breath as he glanced over to the deceased creature not too far away from the tunnel''s entrance.


    "Warmonger, be advised. We''ve engaged multiple lizard-like hostiles in our AO. They appear to be subterranean. Over."

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 18

    Elijah was fiddling around with the strange spear as his fingers ran over the intricacies of the weapon. It was a strangle blend of crude medieval workmanship, coupled with extremely refined and alien precision. He continued to muse about the thing¡¯s construction when Coleman¡¯s voice suddenly cut through the air.


    ¡°30 seconds till impact.¡± His team leader quietly informed the entire ODA as they hunkered down in their concealed position.


    Putting the weapon down, Elijah hands clamped down on his ear protection and flipped down his  Enhanced Night Vision Goggles (ENVG) before pointing his rifles towards potential threats. He figured he would have plenty of time to figure out what that thing was when they finished roasting some miniature land gators.


    The sun had finally set and in its place, the moon rose and covered the ground in a pale glow across the forest floor. While the shadows casted by the lunar light danced and played tricks on the naked eye, the ODA sat there, waiting and watching their prey with their Enhanced Night Vision Goggles.


    A mixture of orange thermal outlines and an ethereal white phosphorus-like picture amplified the ODA¡¯s vision as they kept their eyes on the unaware and clumsy reptilians that emerged from the depths of their underground abode. Thinking themselves alone, the creatures communicated in soft hisses and what sounded like high pitched guttural chirps while they organized themselves.


    Suddenly, the forest''s nocturnal symphony was interrupted by an unmistakable whooshing sound, drawing Elijah''s focus back to the present. In the distance, the dark silhouette of a dark rod resembling a sinister dart, flashed through the sky.


    The strange sound only lasted a second before the earth itself violently erupted from the massive explosion that followed. The team had decided to say fuck it and drop a GBU-72, a Bunker Buster on the bastards. He only caught the sight for a fraction of a second, but the dart had cleanly pierced the ground just behind the exploring lizards before the earth itself swallowed them in fire and earth.


    Elijah felt the shockwave hit before he heard the explosion, the force pressing against his chest and causing his ears to pop. However, after countless Global War on Terror (GWOT) tours, he had become completely desensitized to its effect.


    Snapping their heads around, the lizards that had wandered too close to the ODA¡¯s position stared at the destruction with gaping mouths before several suppressed shots from rifles rang out in the night. Almost simultaneously the lingering reptilians started dropping to the floor either dead or dying.


    After ensuring the immediate vicinity was clear, Coleman signaled to the team. "Move up.¡±


    The ODA team advanced cautiously from their concealed position, rifles still at the ready, eyes darting around for any sign of surviving threats. But that seemed like a wasted effort after they saw the carnage that the explosion had wrought. The bunker buster had definitely done as advertised and gouged into the earth leaving only a vast crater with the area littered with debris and burned vegetation.


    As they approached the epicenter of the blast, the pungent scent of burnt flesh permeated the air, and the sight that met their eyes was gruesome. Charred and mangled bodies of reptilians lay everywhere, some buried beneath rubble, others thrown clear by the force of the explosion.


    The scene reminded Elijah heavily of Iraq and the war that was waged against the Islamic State or Daesh as they were called. He had been there as part of a specialized Crisis Response Force, formerly known as a Commander''s In-extremis Force. They embedded themselves with the actually capable Iraqi and Kurdish special forces to perform direct action missions to take down high value targets and even dabbled in hostage rescue operations.


    One operation, in particular, stood starkly in Elijah''s memory. He had been a part of a task force that had been tipped off about a Daesh stronghold with a prominent commander they needed to capture just outside of their supposed ¡®Capital¡¯ of their Caliphate, Mosul. From the outside, it looked like any other battle-scarred compound, but when Elijah''s team, along with their Iraqi counterparts, entered, they found much more than they had been prepared for.


    The building led to a network of underground tunnels, a tactic that Daesh had become infamous for. It was their way of moving undetected, storing weapons, and launching surprise attacks and when the compound was raided, the entire operation had been a cluster fuck. The close-quarters fighting had been claustrophobic and was absolutely disastrous. Every bend turn and every dug out room had an exchange of so many grenades, Elijah wondered where everyone got them all. Coupled with the limited visibility and echoing gunshots, every inch of the damn place was turned into a potential death trap.


    With Daesh militants putting up a fierce resistance and mounting casualties, Elijah¡¯s team and their Iraqi counterparts decided enough was enough. The juice wasn¡¯t worth the squeeze and if the commander wanted to be a martyr so bad, they¡¯d make him one.


    As the task force made their way above ground, they looked to their embedded Combat Controller, pointed at the stronghold and told him to get rid of it.


    And get rid of it he did.


    5 GBU-72 Ground Penetrators later and the entire complex was nothing more than a smoldering sinkhole. Each explosive impact was felt even from a safe distance, the ground reverberating with each successive detonation. Fireballs and plumes of smoke shot skyward, blotting out the horizon momentarily as the massive munitions did their job, collapsing the intricate underground network like a house of cards. For over a mile, everyone''s bones rattled painfully as the earth trembled with each impact. Massive plumes of smoke and dirt violently ejected from all the hidden entrances along with the massive cloud from the initial impact zone, casting a dark veil over the landscape.


    Elijah¡¯s eyes refocused, snapping him back to the present. The vividness of his memory had momentarily blurred the lines between past and present, but as he took in the scene before him, the eerie similarities began to fade. Instead of the human remains of Daesh militants that he once hunted, he now saw the twisted and charred bodies of these strange lizard creatures, their scales seared and eyes lifeless.


    ¡°Told ya all we needed is a bunker buster.¡± Elijah said, huffing in amusement as he shot a look at Coleman.


    The Team leader scoffed and rolled his eyes, ¡°Ya, ya whatever.¡± Coleman replied, brushing away some dirt that fell on his shoulder. "I forgot you CIF freaks handle everything through unmitigated violence.¡±


    A chuckle left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he stepped over part of a corpse. ¡°Some things require a more subtle touch, but sometimes, all you need is a big BOOM.¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± Coleman shrugged and gazed around the wasteland before them, ¡°I can¡¯t really argue with that."


    As the team swept the area the atmosphere grew somber as an unsettling realization began to creep into Elijah¡¯s mind. If these creatures had the capability to burrow underground complexes for refuge in such a short amount of time, then just how many of these burrows dotted the landscape? With the main body of the horde dispersing across the countryside, there could be dozens, maybe even hundreds of these burrows scattered all over the countryside.


    And what if they just kept going?


    ¡°This¡­ is going to be a problem.¡± Elijah muttered quickly, his amusement now replaced with a hint of concern.


    Bennett who had been poking at some strange item turned to and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Sucking in a deep breath, Elijah adjusted his rifle and looked around and saw that most of the team was looking at him. ¡°Well¡­ Think about it.¡± He said, scratching his short beard. ¡°We found the hole these things crawled out by sheer chance, so what are the odds of some beat cop finding more, especially a year from now?¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Everyone gave the medic a difficult look as he continued. ¡°I mean, an army of what? Tens of thousands literally ran for the hills? We don¡¯t even know how many lizards there were in that ¡®army¡¯ and we barely even killed a quarter of them.¡± Elijah said definitively as he waved his hand. ¡°So now I¡¯m just assuming we now have several new invasive species.¡±


    Coleman, rubbing his temples, sighed heavily. "Ahh, shit¡­  I didn¡¯t think of that¡­¡± He groaned in mental pain. ¡°And that''s just what we saw today," Coleman continued. "There''s no telling how many of these burrows are out there, and how fast they can reproduce.¡±


    ¡±Great, I bet these things are going to be fucking everywhere¡­¡± Lister, the dark skinned Weapons Sergeant mumbled, adjusting his heavy weapon load. He glanced around at the heavily forested hills around him and frowned. ¡°We¡¯re spitting distance from the Appalachian mountains," Lister pointed east. "It¡¯s dense, hard to navigate, and full of places to hide. They''ll thrive there."


    Schwarz shook his head, "And with winter coming, it will be even tougher to search. If they make it there, rooting them out will be a nightmare."


    "Enough," Coleman said, his voice firm. "We¡¯re gonna have to leave the what-ifs to someone else. Our current mission is to clear this area and continue to recon south."


    The group stood silent for a moment, taking in just how fucked up the situation was. Each of their faces were a mixture of emotions after the long day of surreal combat, but they weren¡¯t strangers to this type of scenario.


    Just the details.


    Slowly, they began to move out, the crunch of foliage under their boots served as the only sound while they continued their patrol.


    -


    Lysandra''s senses stirred as the unfamiliar hum and beep of strange devices awakened her from a dreamless sleep. A throbbing pain consumed the left side of her face, and her vision was hazy. As she tried to move, she found her body heavy and restrained as if she were bound to her bed. A deep panic began to set in as she realized she had no idea where she was, or even how she had come to be there.


    ¡°H-Hello?¡± The battered woman called out weakly as ner vision struggled to focus. ¡°H-hello, is anyone there?¡±


    Her voice, frail and raspy, echoed faintly in the sterile smelling room. And from the corner of her good eye, she noticed the soft glow of the luminescent apparatuses around her. The stark whiteness of the room was punctuated by these odd devices, their purpose a mystery to her.


    The world was almost a complete blur as Lysandra tried her best to focus her vision, but everything from colors to shapes seemed distorted and unstable. To make matters worse, not only did every muscle in her body feel like they were made of lead, but she also felt the taut pull of cuffs tethering her to the bed. Lysandra struggled weakly in an attempt  to free herself, but the metallic clinks of the restraints only seemed to amplify her anxiety and sense of vulnerability.


    But suddenly the sound of an authoritative voice resounded in the room causing Lysandra to stop her feeble struggle as she turned her head. Mustering whatever will power she had, she focused her gaze on a pair of those otherworldly soldiers with their black weapons in their hands.


    Horror was etched on Lysandra¡¯s face as she stared at the men speaking to each other in their strange language, but she could tell that they were discussing her. Their gestures seemed to indicate urgency and importance and Lysandra couldn¡¯t help but turn to the worst case scenario. Was she to be tortured for information? Experimented on for profane magics? Humiliated and executed for her transgressions in this world? The possibilities spun in her head, each darker than the last.


    Both of the soldiers, identified by the black MP on the arms, continued to talk before one of them stepped forward and pressed a button on the sleek wall panel beside him. The panel lit up, revealing an intercom system. He spoke into it, "Alpha to Med Bay. The subject is conscious. Alert Dr. Kassa."


    Moments later, the doors slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing an older woman with a sun-kissed complexion that she held herself with an air of authority. Her hair was intricately woven into long braids that cascaded down her back and bounced with every step. Adorning a white robe, which contrasted sharply against the bright green scrubs she had underneath she stopped just in front of Lysandra and looked down at her curiously. Not too far behind, a team of individuals in matching bright green scrubs followed, holding various medical instruments and devices.


    Dr. Kassa carefully examined the wounded side of Lysandra''s face, her fingers gently probing the tender and swollen skin. With her other hand, she shone a small penlight into Lysandra''s remaining eye, checking for any signs of a concussion or other internal injuries. As she did this, another member of the medical team spoke to the doctor in a hushed but urgent tone, pointing at the monitor that displayed Lysandra''s vital signs. "Her blood pressure''s spiking," the nurse announced, her brow furrowed in concern.


    A hum left Dr. Kassa has turned her attention to the monitor. "She''s terrified," Dr. Kassa replied with a soft voice. She then leaned in closer towards her patient and noted just how¡­ human she looked, despite the obvious differences.


    Every line of worry, every crease of fear, and the depth of confusion in her bright yellow eyes were all too familiar. They were the same expressions any human would have in such a horrible situation. Except for the long, pointed ears that peeked through her dark blonde hair and the vivid hue of her irises, Lysandra could be mistaken for any woman from Earth. The realization added another layer of complexity to the situation, reminding Dr. Kassa that despite the vast being from a completely different reality, emotions and experiences might be a universal constant.


    Hoping to comfort Lysandra, Dr. Kassa gently touched the non-injured side of her face. She wished they shared a language, words to convey safety and care. But for now, gestures would have to suffice.


    Another nurse approached, holding a syringe filled with a translucent liquid. Dr. Kassa nodded in approval as the nurse carefully administered the sedative. They needed Lysandra calm, not just for the medical procedures, but for her own wellbeing in this alien environment.


    As the minutes passed, the effects of the sedative became evident. Lysandra''s tense posture relaxed, and her rapid breathing steadied. Her eyes, while still filled with uncertainty, no longer held that wild edge of panic.


    ¡°Quite curious, isn¡¯t it?¡± a voice remarked from the back of the room. The anesthesiologist, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and thoughtful eyes, stepped forward. "In all the encounters we''ve had with these... interdimensional beings, it never ceases to amaze me how our sedatives and anesthesia actually work and don¡¯t outright kill them."


    Dr. Kassa nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it is remarkable. But what surprises me more is how other common medical practices seem to work on them as well. It''s like they share a foundational biology with us."


    A third nurse chimed in, her face slightly pale, "Speaking of similarities, the pathologists and other medical examiners have been having quite the time performing autopsies on some of the deceased creatures. Everyone¡¯s been in an uproar after they found out that the internal structure of some of these beings only exhibits a handful of differences from our own.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Dr. Kassa turned to the woman and raised an eyebrow.


    The nurse nodded, "Yes. In fact, what''s even more fascinating is the phenomenon observed with those large werewolf-like creatures. After an extended period of time post-death, they seem to...morph. They gradually transform into something more human-shaped, though still significantly larger."


    The anesthesiologist looked surprised. "That''s...unsettling. But why or¡­ how would they do that?"


    "We''re not sure yet," the nurse replied. "But biologists, doctors and scientists from all over the world are basically scratching and clawing to get here as if Ohio''s the new Mecca. Everyone wants a piece of this puzzle. The discoveries made here could reshape our entire understanding of biology, evolution, and perhaps even the nature of existence."


    Silence enveloped the room as they tried to wrap their head around the implications of not just another world full of sentient life existing, but also the reality of magic being a tangible, quantifiable force.


    A technician, who had been quietly calibrating a machine nearby, suddenly spoke up, "Can you imagine? If we actually learned and harnessed magic? The entire globe would be turned on its head overnight.¡±


    Another round of silence came over the medical team as they looked at each other uncomfortably. Each of them found this reality difficult to accept, but Dr. Kassa, always the pragmatist, clapped her hands loudly to get everyone¡¯s attention. "Alright, alright!¡± She shouted, turning to her team. ¡°You¡¯re all professionals, so quit your brooding, We have patients to attend to."


    Meanwhile, Lysandra felt as if the world had inverted in on itself, gravity had reversed and she felt as if she was crawling on the ceiling like some kind of damnable monster. Whatever these strange heavens forsake people had given her beyond potent because not only were every color intensified, but every sound was simultaneously  muffled and also overwhelmingly clear at the same time. She stared horrifyingly at the strangers in her room as they seemed to twist and turn in impossible ways while the sterile white of the hospital walls seemed to pulse and breathe, as if alive.


    Lysandra opened her mouth as if trying to say something, but no words came out. Instead, it was just a whispery gasp, a desperate attempt to communicate her panic and disorientation.


    The poor woman couldn¡¯t help curse the demon who had tricked her into coming to this accursed land.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 19

    ¡°They still haven¡¯t killed me¡­¡± Lysandra remarked as she glanced up at a curious artifact alien to her world. This strange, flat box had moving images and it showed scenes that shifted and changed.


    Sometimes the artifact displayed more otherworldly humans doing mundane tasks, other times it showcased breathtaking cityscapes that Lysandra could only dream of visiting, like the capital of the Holy Dominion or the Magi¡¯s Sanctum¡¯s various seaborne Cities. However, what really caught Lysandra¡¯s attention wasn¡¯t the fact that they hand moving pictures, no, no, no. Those types of magicks were rare in her neck of the words, sure, but they were frequent enough for her to see them.


    No, it was the fact that there was sound¡­ and it was IMPECCABLE.


    The voices, the music, the ambient noises - everything was so clear. It was as if she was in the same space as the scenes unfolding before her. The chirping of birds felt so real she almost looked around the room for them. The delicate notes of an instrument made her feel as if the musician was right next to her, playing a serenade just for her ears. It was a sensory experience unlike any other she had experienced.


    She scooped another spoonful of the bland porridge they served her and shoved it into her mouth, the tepid mush barely registering on her taste buds. Compared to the vibrant sounds from the artifact, the food seemed something only the undead would find appetizing. As she chewed, she couldn''t help but remark, "For beings that can create such wondrous sounds, they sure don''t know how to make food exciting."


    Every once in a while, however, they would surprise her. It was rare, but sometimes these otherworlders would bring in a dish or a drink whose flavors were so intense and unique that they would leave her speechless. Lysandra remembered the first time they had given her something they called "chocolate." The rich, velvety texture and the intoxicating sweetness had left her absolutely salivating, but those delightful surprises were short-lived. But after consumption, this world''s version of what Lysandra assumed were ''healers'', swarmed her conducting all manners of strange and indecipherable tests.


    Over time, Lysandra realized that their intentions weren''t malicious, but curious. However, she just wished they would step up their culinary game.


    Suddenly, the thick metal door beeped and creaked open, and in walked a group of three individuals that frequented her room every day. The soldiers stationed in Lysandra¡¯s room immediately snapped to attention and saluted the middle of the three, a tall pale woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun.


    ¡°At ease.¡± The woman said before turning to an even taller man with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses perched on his nose. He was flanked by a young woman with a head full of curly hair and a notebook clutched in her hands, who seemed to be absolutely giddy to just be here.


    ¡°Dr. Stenhouse, if you will.¡± The woman gestured towards Lysandra and stood next to the soldiers.


    Dr. Stenhouse cleared his throat and began arranging some materials on a nearby table. He then turned his attention to Lysandra and started speaking, slowly and deliberately. Each word seemed to be weighed and measured, "You... feel... today... good?"


    Though the sentence was fragmented, Lysandra grasped the essence of his inquiry. She blinked, genuinely impressed. "You... learn quick" she responded, matching his halting tone, her brows raised in surprise.


    While the older man documented the exchange on his device, the young woman excitedly began feverishly scribbling on her notepad.


    The lead linguist nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes. We try. Understand you."


    Lysandra observed the two for a few moments and thought about how they made great strides since their first, awkward attempt at communication. It was obvious they had an excellent methodical approach that any Academy or school in her world would trip over themselves to get. Being able to break down language to its most rudimentary form and then gradually rebuilding it just to be able to communicate with some Freelancer was truly astounding.


    The curly-haired woman, emboldened by the successful exchange, inched closer to Lysandra. She pointed at her and said, "You feel¡­ good?" She asked again, trying to emulate the tone and pacing that Lysandra might find familiar. ¡°No hurt?¡±


    A chuckle left Lysandra¡¯s mouth as glanced at the woman. ¡°No Emma, no hurt.¡± She remembered the woman introducing herself as ''Emma'' during one of their previous sessions. ¡°But I would like some better food though¡­¡± Lysandra added with a self depreciating smirk.


    Emma and Dr. Stenhouse exchanged puzzled looks. "Food," Emma murmured, jotting down the word. "That one we got."


    Dr. Stenhouse leaned in, adjusting his glasses. "We also got ¡®''better,'' and ¡®like¡¯, but it¡¯s the rest I¡¯m unsure about¡­ The syntax is unusual, but let''s dissect it."


    Emma tapped the end of her pen on the notepad, deep in thought. "Okay, whenever she says ¡®like¡¯, she usually indicates a preference or desire for something.


    Tapping his hand on his head, Dr. Stenhouse nodded in agreement. "That''s consistent with our language as well. And ''better'' generally signifies an improvement or something of superior quality."


    Flipping through pages of her notebook, Emma stopped on one page and circled a few passages. "If we pair ''like'' with ''better food'', it might be that she''s indicating she''s not really satisfied with her food.¡±


    After a few moments of silence, Dr. Stenhouse straightened up, turned, and cast his gaze over to the group standing slightly apart from them. "Ms. Toivonen," he called, seeking out the stern-looking woman who was dressed in a crisp, tailored women¡¯s dress suit. "What exactly are we feeding her?"


    Toivonen turned to the senior linguist with an unreadable expression. "Primarily Porridge," she replied simply, her voice carrying a note of finality. "Until we know more about her biology and what is safe, it''s the most neutral thing we can give her. We don¡¯t know what might harm... the subject."


    Emma''s eyes flashed with a hint of defiance. "She''s not a ''subject'', Toivonen. She''s a person. Her name is Lysandra."


    The professionally dressed woman regarded Emma for a few moments and met the junior linguist''s fiery gaze with an icy one. ¡°We don¡¯t know what might harm ¡®Lysandra¡¯.¡± She said, deciding it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to squabble with some random academic. ¡°Our top priority here is to ensure nothing compromises her health.¡±


    "Then let''s work collaboratively.¡± Emma immediately responded, squaring her shoulders in refusal to back down. ¡°Lysandra has given us so much in terms of communication and understanding. The least we can do is ensure she''s comfortable. If she''s expressing dissatisfaction with her food, shouldn''t we address it?"


    Never more than in this very moment did Toivonen want to roll her eyes, but she maintained her composure, giving Dr. Stenhouse a brief glance and communicating to him to control his assistant before addressing Emma again. "It''s not our decision to make. If the medical team deems it unsafe, then it''s not safe. The decision about Lysandra''s food is based on a combination of factors, including her biology and potential allergic reactions. It¡¯s a matter of security, not comfort."


    Dr. Stenhouse, sensing the escalating tension, stepped in, "Ms. Toivonen, I understand your concerns, and they are valid. But perhaps we can find a middle ground? Maybe consult the medical team and see if there''s any possibility of introducing a variety of foods to Lysandra, even if slowly? Monitoring her reactions, and adjusting accordingly?"


    Toivonen exhaled slowly. "Dr. Stenhouse, it''s not about denying her comfort. But our hands are tied until we have more information. I''ll speak with the medical team, but I can''t guarantee anything."


    An exhausted sigh left Emma¡¯s mouth as she basically snarled at the tall woman. "Ugh, you CIA types always say your hands are tied, all we¡¯re asking-¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°What we¡¯re asking for!¡± Dr. Stenhouse interrupted with a firm voice and giving his assistant a stern look, "is a chance for collaboration and understanding. Now I understand that we¡¯re only here because YOU allow us to be here and no one''s doubting the importance of security,¡± He continued, silently conveying to Emma to control herself. ¡°but we''re also dealing with a sentient being who''s been nothing but cooperative and we could INCREASE that cooperation by simply addressing her basic needs."


    Emma bit her lip, taking a step back, acknowledging Dr. Stenhouse''s silent message.


    Toivonen''s face remained inscrutable as weighed the pros and cons of the argument in her own head. A full minute of silence stretched out between the three of them, making the room''s atmosphere palpably tense. The gentle hum of the facility''s ventilation system was the only sound cutting through the quiet standoff.


    With impatience starting to win over her better judgment, Emma started to fidget, unable to understand how someone could deny another person their basic human rights. Every so often, she would glance at Dr. Stenhouse, as if seeking permission to interject.


    Taking a deep breath, Emma opened her mouth to speak. But just before she could utter a word, Toivonen swiftly turned on her heels and strode over to the wall-mounted intercom. With a quick press of a button, she began speaking, "Medical team, this is Toivonen. Please report to conference room three. We have a matter to discuss concerning the... patient''s dietary requirements."


    Emma blinked in surprise, exchanging a glance with Dr. Stenhouse while their handler promptly left the room.


    ¡°All you need to do to convince those types of people is to speak their language,¡± Dr. Stenhouse said with a smile, motioning for Emma to follow him to a quieter corner of the room.


    The assistant raised an eyebrow and gave Dr. Stenhouse an intrigued look. "And what language is that?"


    "Pragmatism," he responded. "Spy types, especially at Toivonen¡¯s level, deal in risks, benefits, and bottom lines. They''re not heartless, but they''ve learned to set emotions aside in order to complete their objective. So, when dealing with them, it''s essential to present your arguments in terms of practical benefits and minimized risks."


    A frustrated huff left Emma¡¯s mouth as she rubbed her temples. ¡°I REALLY don¡¯t like how they can just¡­ set aside their humanity just to get a strategic advantage¡­¡± She said furrowing her brow. ¡°But I get what you¡¯re saying. It¡¯s a matter of framing the narrative in a way that aligns with their priorities.¡±


    Dr. Stenhouse simply gave her a wry smile. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either, but we have to play their game if we¡¯re going to ensure Lysandra''s well-being and understand her people. If speaking their language can get us there faster, then that''s what we have to do."


    Emma frowned as she stared down at her shoes. "It just feels... manipulative."


    ¡°Emma, their job is TO BE manipulative.¡± Dr. Stenhouse put a comforting hand on her shoulder. ¡°Their entire purpose is to think 10 steps ahead and most of the time, humanity isn¡¯t even a factor.¡± He said, looking back at Lysandra who was giving them a concerned look.


    A frustrated growl left the assistance mouth as she ruffled her curly hair. ¡°No, their job is to be EVIL! How could someone treat another living, breathing person as if they¡¯re some kind of¡­ object!?¡±


    Letting loose a deep sigh, Dr. Stenhouse pinched the bridge of his nose, ¡°I don¡¯t disagree with you, Emma. But you have to understand we¡¯re in a delicate situation.¡± He explained, turning back to his assistant. ¡°We¡¯ve been given an infinitely unique opportunity that any Academic or Scientist would kill for and they¡¯re the ones in control-¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not right!¡± Emma interrupted, her voice quivering with anger and disbelief. "They can¡¯t just strip someone''s rights and dignity away because it''s convenient!¡± She nearly shouted, gesturing animatedly.  ¡°When does it stop? When they dehumanize everyone of them and-¡±


    Before she could continue, Dr. Stenhouse raised a hand, signaling her to halt. His voice took on a chilling edge as he looked into Emma¡¯s eyes with a piercing gaze. "Emma, you need to understand something." He began, his eyes locked onto hers. "These people, this establishment, they operate on their own terms. They can and will do as they please and the moment we cease being valuable, the moment we''re no longer an asset to them¡­? We¡¯re gone."


    Emma remained silent and gritted her teeth as the weight of the senior linguist''s words settled in her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, not just from anger but from the fear and realization of their precarious situation. "So, what? We just play their twisted games and dance to their tune?¡±


    Dr. Stenhouse sighed again as he rubbed his temples. ¡°For now, yes. But we do it smartly, subtly. We use the position we''re in to GENTLY push things in the right direction.¡± He said, putting hand on Emma¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If we''re too direct, we risk everything. But with a careful approach, we can influence outcomes and even turn them into seeing things how we see them.¡±


    Even though Lysandra didn¡¯t understand a word that was said, the tension in the conversation caused her anxiety to spike as she laid in her hospital bed. Her singular good eye consistently shot between the two scholars as she tried to figure out what might have gone wrong.


    Only the hum of the fluorescent lights and the beeps of strange machines resounded in the room for what felt like an eternity, but it was Lysandra who finally broke the silence. "Problem?" she asked, her tone filled with worry.


    The two academics exchanged a glance for a moment unsure how to respond, but Dr. Stenhouse gave her a reassuring smile and pointed to himself and his assistant. ¡°No, no. We fix problem.¡± He paused, trying to find the words in his limited vocabulary. "Just... talking. All is okay."


    Lysandra stared at them for a moment, her gaze searching and unsure, but then she nodded slowly. ¡°Okay,¡± she responded softly, taking solace in their assurance.


    The conversation had drained a significant amount of energy from both the linguists, but they chose to continue on with deciphering Lysandra''s language as Emma reopened her notebook and Dr. Stenhouse resumed his questioning. However, as the hospital room regained its warm atmosphere, the chilliness of the facility''s hallways were magnified by the clicks of Toivonens heels clicking against the sterile floor.


    Toivonen didn¡¯t much care for the melodramatics of the more emotionally driven University types. To her, there was just too much on the line for anything other than functionality, pragmatism, and clear objectives. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal of the handrail as she marched through the maze of corridors. The walls, painted in the stark whites and grays typical of military and research complexes, seemed to close in around her, echoing her every step.


    Though most of the facility was brightly lit, Toivonen¡¯s path was marked by pools of shadows, and her thoughts turned increasingly dark. These academics, with their lofty ideals and bleeding hearts, were always a hassle to deal with. They were simply too naive and failed to see the bigger picture. National security, global diplomacy, the very fabric of human society,  these were the stakes that had landed squarely on her shoulders and an entity completely alien to their world like Lysandra represented risks and opportunities on a scale not even Toivonen herself could fathom.


    As she approached conference room 3, she took a moment to straighten her jacket and compose herself. With a quick tug at her lanyard, Toivonen ensured her access badge was still in place as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a black featureless phone.


    With a few taps, she lifted the phone to her ear and spoke. ¡°It¡¯s me. The academics have a new demand, they want to change the subjects dietary needs."


    A few moments passed with a few hums and acknowledgements before she continued, "I''ve already called in the medical team for a review, but between you and me, this is starting to get messy. Stenhouse and his assistant are becoming emotionally invested and it''s compromising their objectivity."


    Toivonen paused once more as a muffled voice leaked through the device''s small speaker. Whatever they said caused a thin line of annoyance to appear on Toivonen¡¯s face as she pursed her lips. "Yes, yes, I understand the value they bring, but there are limits and I won¡¯t hesitate to pull them off this project if they become a liability."


    Sighing deeply, Toivonen pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head upwards to push back against her growing headache. ¡°Yes¡­ Yes sir. I understand sir.¡± She closed her eyes briefly, grounding herself before speaking again. "I¡¯ll try sir, but we need to set clear boundaries with them going forward. Perhaps a meeting to reiterate our objectives and priorities is in order.¡±


    The voice on the other end murmured in agreement, suggesting a time for the meeting. ¡°Tomorrow at 0900,¡± Toivonen confirmed. ¡°And make sure Dr. Stenhouse and his assistant understand that I WILL replace them if they can¡¯t understand the gravity of the situation. We need to consider all angles, and we can¡¯t compromise the subject¡¯s health.¡±


    With a final affirmation, Toivonen ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. The woman kept pinching the bridge of her nose for a few more moments before glancing at the closed doors of conference room 3 and steeling herself for the meeting ahead.


    As she entered the conference room, she saw it was filled with a blend of military and medical personnel, all sitting around a large, round table covered with documents, screens, and various classified devices.


    "Alright, ladies and gentlemen," she acknowledged the staff in the room with a nod. "You all know why I¡¯ve called you down here, so let''s get down to it. I want a list of what we can safely introduce into the subject''s diet without compromising her health."


    Everyone in the room looked at each other before Dr. Kassa threw up her hand and cleared her throat. "Well¡­ we''ve been closely monitoring the patients'' reactions to various food samples that we''ve introduced," she began, adjusting her glasses. "And so far¡­ she hasn''t shown any allergic reactions to anything we''ve tested for.¡±


    ¡°Yet.¡±


    The ¡®yet¡¯ made Toivonen¡¯s eye twitch as her finger tapped against her arm steadily. ¡°Go on, Dr. Kassa.¡±


    Dr. Kassa took a deep breath and looked down at the documents in front of her. "Well¡­¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 20

    With one hand, Varian cradled his head as he stared at the raging fire in his fireplace, but in the other, he clutched documents that were crumpled up with his claws piercing through the thick stack. The words of that damnable devil rang once more in his mind as his vision remained locked on the violently popping embers.


    His supposedly easy and bloodless path to becoming a true god had been a catastrophe.


    "No, not a catastrophe," Varian laughed to himself, correcting his own thoughts. "This is a calamity."


    His advisors had warned him, hells, one of the devils even cautioned him against meddling with the unknown. But the allure of true godhood, the temptation to possess an even grander realm, had been too much. The celestial dragon, the heart of their expeditionary force and a symbol of his might, was now lying in a recuperative state after the failed incursion. The beast¡¯s majestic feathers no longer shone with the luster of the heavens, and its once mighty roar was reduced to pained groans.


    But the open rift was an even greater concern. The swirling vortex that stabilized the abomination was a blemish upon the skyline of the savage lands as if it spoke of an inevitable threat.


    Yet, Varian was not one to be easily deterred. Over the century, he had built a vast and intricate web of alliances, dependencies, and rivalries. Each vassal, tributary, nomadic horde, hostile state, and even the untamed lands themselves had their role in his grand design.


    For centuries he had played the game of power and politics with finesse, maneuvering like a grandmaster on the cosmic chessboard. No single entity, be it friend or foe, had truly understood the depths of his strategy or the extent of his reach. But forces being able to rival his own without the use of magic had been an unforeseen anomaly and an anomaly he needed to keep distant while he searched for a way to handle it.


    As if on cue, the firepit roared and bellowed throughout the chamber, jolting Varian from his thoughts. The sudden heat felt more like a blow of icy wind as Varian shivere, however, it wasn''t just the temperature that unsettled him. No, it was the figure that stood just in front of the firepit that glared hatefully at him with glowing hellish eyes.


    "You cannot close it, can you?" The figures whose voice dripped with malice and discontentment echoed throughout the chamber. And just before Varian could blink, the devil Alastor himself stood just in front of him.


    The devil¡¯s form shifts between a man and a nightmarish creature with horns and leathery wings. Flames licked the edges of his silhouette, casting eerie shadows along the walls.


    Varian''s vision swam as the world around him seemed to darken, focusing solely on Alastor. A sharp tug within his mind hinted at a connection between them, as if an invisible thread had always existed but had only now grown taut.


    "In your thirst for godhood, you have knocked on doors that should have remained closed, Varian." Alastor''s voice was hypnotic, forcing Varian to recall every whispered warning and every ignored premonition. "I did warn you. But in your hubris, you believed you were exempt from such folly.¡±


    The emperor¡¯s heart raced, but his demeanor remained composed, his gaze unwavering. "The pact," he declared resolutely, "still stands between us. By its terms, no harm shall come to me from the hells and its schemes while the deal holds true." The ethereal atmosphere in the room grew thick with tension as the emperor continued, "I have the Banished One within my grasp. You cannot, and will not, harm me, Alastor."


    A low chuckle resonated from Alastor, echoing throughout the chamber, filling every crevice with its unsettling cadence. "Bold words from someone who has potentially damned not only this mortal plane, but ALL MORTAL PLANES!¡± The Devil snarled, his voice dripping with venom. The flames around him grew brighter, casting a sinister hue that bathed the room in a deep crimson light. "The hells and its devils do not wish to rule RUBBLE, Varian.¡±


    With the glint of challenge still in his eyes, Varian''s chin lifted defiantly towards Alastor. "I''ve always been a gambler, Alastor. I may not understand the entirety of what I''ve done, but I am more than capable of navigating the storm I''ve created."


    Alastor''s laughter was like the clash of steel, cold and foreboding. "Even now your arrogance blinds you.¡± He sneered, holding his evil clawed hand to his head.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Varian¡¯s fist slammed down onto his desk. ¡°I have filled my end of the bargain, Alastor." With a flourish, he presented the ethereal contract, its iridescent ink shimmering in the chamber''s dim light. The parchment seemed to pulse with a power of its own, an embodiment of the oaths and deals made only in the infinite hells.


    For the first time, Alastor seemed taken aback, his posture straightened as his attention was riveted on the document. "You wouldn¡¯t dare..."


    "I not only dare, I assert!" Varian interrupted with a bellow. "I here formally transfer the ownership of the Banished One to you. And as per the contract''s stipulations, my safety and sovereignty are guaranteed! You, your infernal minions can lay a hand on me, and neither can damned machinations!"


    The devil''s eyes narrowed as his fist trembled in demonic fury. The firepit and each candle in the room burned intensely even though the air itself felt as chilly as ice. "You think these mere words will save you? That this... contract will be your shield?"


    Varian leaned in, his voice dripping with confidence. "It''s not just words, Alastor. It''s a bond by the Hell¡¯s themselves, a promise that even the current reigning Satan dares not break. I may be a mortal in your eyes, but I''ve played this game long enough to know its rules."


    Alastor clenched his teeth so hard, it could have torn through steel while his gaze flicked between the contract and Varian. Silence dominated the Varians personal quarters as the devil calculated his next move. The chamber''s atmosphere grew dense, the weight of decisions, of fate, and of a cosmic game of power pressing down upon them.


    "Where¡­ is¡­ she?" Alastor finally asked in barely contained anger.


    A wicked smirk widened across Varian''s face as the contract slowly burned from top to bottom after its fulfillment. ¡°Why it''s at the heart of the Rift itself, dear Alastor.¡±


    Silence reigned as the two stared at each other, but where Varian wore a smug look,  Alastor¡¯s expression said he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he had heard. Suddenly the devil erupted into an uncontrolled laughter as he pointed one evil clawed finger at Varian. ¡°You!¡± He continued to bellow, clutching his head with his other hand. ¡°You would make a SUPERB devil, Varian!¡±


    With that last proclamation, the chamber once filled with an air of confrontation and imminent doom was drowned in the devil''s maniacal laughter. Shadows danced with the flames, and the room''s boundaries seemed to blur, its edges disintegrating into nothingness.


    Alastor''s figure grew larger, the air around him shimmering with dark energy. "You think you''ve won? You think that because you''ve traded the Banished One, the very catalyst of the rift, and offload the responsibility onto me?"


    Varian''s smirk didn''t waver. "Isn''t that how it is, devil ? A trade, a deal, an exchange of services? I''ve upheld my end, and now you have what you wanted."


    For a brief moment, Alastor looked genuinely thoughtful as his eyes burned with an infernal light. He knew for a fact that Alastor was trying to make him the scapegoat and make him liable for this fiasco. The devil pondered the near infinite possibilities this could go and finally settled on a single course of action.


    Ever the strategist, Alastor reared himself up to his full height and adjusted himself to look more regal. ¡°Very well, Varian.¡± He saidwith a voice as smooth as honey yet filled with a venomous undercurrent. "You have indeed kept to the terms of our agreement, and I am bound by the very nature of this infernal contract. But you seem to forget that while a contract prevents direct harm, it does not limit indirect consequences."


    ¡°What are you insinuating¡­?¡± Varian narrowed his eyes.


    Alastor''s smile broadened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth that seemed to absorb all light. "I''m saying that while I cannot lay a hand on you and I may not plot your demise, but the choices you''ve made have opened doors. Doors that might allow others, not bound by our agreement nor even aware of me to take interest in you."


    Varian¡¯s claws dug deep into the table as knots started to tighten in his stomach. "What¡­ are you insinuating, devil¡­?" An angry hiss escaped between the emperor''s sharp teeth.


    However, The devil didn¡¯t answer and chose to bellow out a hearty and sinister laugh as he flicked his hands. Suddenly a flash of intense heat radiated throughout the chambers as Alastor vanished in a collapsing ball of fire, leaving only echoing laughter and the powerful stench of sulfur.


    Left alone in the chamber, Varian collapsed into his chair as an ominous chill ran up his spine. The bravado and confidence he once oozed was now replaced by a sinking foreboding feeling as the realization he had a devil plotting against him now.


    ¡°I need allies,¡± he murmured to himself, gazing at the still burning ethereal contract finally evaporating into nothingness. The game was far from over, and Varian realized that the next few moves would be critical, and he had to be prepared for whatever awaited him in the shadows of the unknown.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    -


    Coleman and his Special Forces ODA (Operational Detachment Alpha) had just touched down at the Forward Operating Base (FOB), disembarking from a Black Hawk that had whisked them back from their observation point.


    The 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR), known as the Night Stalkers, had provided their usual exemplary transport when a Ranger Chalk had come in to hit the target they were observing. Just like the Rangers, the Black Hawks themselves were far from standard issue and were equipped with the cutting edge of avionics, FLIR systems for night operations, and refueling probes for extended range.


    But out of all the raid¡¯s he had taken part in or observed, the Rangers still managed to surprise him. Coleman still vividly remembered the operation, as the 160th SOAR made their approach with an aggressiveness he''d rarely seen, even among seasoned pilots. They came in low and fast, hugging the earth as if it were a long lost lover and unleashing a veritable swarm of Rangers fueled by steroids, Rip Its and hatred.


    As Coleman''s boots hit the tarmac, he noticed the activity around the base had intensified. Armored units rolled past, and mechanics and crew swarmed over APCs and IFVs, conducting last-minute checks and repairs. The air was electric with the whine of turbines as more helicopters landed, unloading their cargo of Marines and soldiers before lifting off again with a wash of dust and debris. However, the sight of more Rangers loading into the nearby modified Black Hawks, made his hair stand on end.


    Suddenly a bout of laughter drew Coleman''s attention away from the spectacle. Elijah and Bennett, two of his team members, were ribbing a platoon of SEALs gearing up near their own helicopters readying themselves to replace them as recon elements watching a section of the rift. The SEALs, identifiable by their distinctive patches and the casual swagger that accompanied their precise movements, were prepping for their own observation mission near the Rift.


    Elijah, ever the instigator, had a wide grin plastered on his face. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t forget your fins!¡± He shouted as they passed the SEALs. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want you guys to drown in that small creek!¡±


    One of the SEAL¡¯s, a brown skinned bald man and with a neck gaiter covering half of his face, scoffed and shot back, ¡°Shut the fuck up, Eli. I bet you and your bitch boy got lost again.¡±


    Knowing they were talking about him, Bennett joined in on the fray. "Try not to write a book about this one, alright?" His reference to the stereotype caused the SEALs to simultaneously groan and roll their eyes.


    However, it was all in good fun as another round of laughter was had, ¡°No promises! It¡¯s gonna be a bestseller called ''The Time I Saved an Army Guy''.¡± An extremely pale, short and stocky SEAL replied. "But don¡¯t worry, we''ll mention you guys in a footnote."


    Shaking his head with a chuckle, Coleman motioned to his team to follow. The humor was fun, but they had their own after-action reports to file and new orders to receive.


    Soon the laughter faded and was replaced with only the beats of helicopter blades and whines from engines as the SEALs went back to their preparations. But it wasn¡¯t long until the Frogmen piled onto their designated aircraft and ascended into the air. They were off to do exactly what the Army Special Forces, the Rangers and other special operations forces were set out to do: Setting the conditions.


    Bradley Fighting Vehicles maneuvered through designated areas of the base, their engines growling like caged beasts ready for the hunt. The mechanized infantry units, with their M1126 Strykers, conducted pre-combat checks, ensuring every piece of equipment was functional and every round of ammunition was accounted for. The rumble of heavy steel treads from the M1A2 Abrams added a bass line to the cacophony of the FOB as they lined up, their powerful turbines spinning up.


    Artillery units were busy as well, with Paladin self-propelled howitzers being loaded to the brim with munitions. They would provide the necessary fire support, capable of delivering devastating barrages to soften enemy positions before any advance.


    And in the midst of it all, Coleman and his team strode confidently towards the Tactical Operations Center to be debriefed. Inside, the buzz of officers fussing over screens, maps and radios painted the picture of a nerve center pulsing with information. Coleman''s boots thudded against the firm surface of the prefab floor as they made their way to the debriefing area. The team didn¡¯t even take off their gear as they all took their seats.


    In every corner of the room stood or sat high ranking officers, patiently waiting for the debriefing and engaged with their own discussions. With the ODA finally fully present, the operations officer Acknowledged the presence of the operators with a nod and opened his laptop before signaling to everyone the debriefing was about to begin. A projector hummed to life, casting a high fidelity video of a drone observing the area of operations as the Special Forces team prepared to recount their observations. The sterile light cast long shadows across the faces of the attending officers and analysts, all of whom were poised to absorb the details that could shape the subsequent operations.


    Coleman, still in his dusty gear, stood up first. "During our observation phase," he started, his voice steady despite the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system, "we identified a large spire-like structure at the core of the Rift. It appears to be a¡­ energy source of some sort, or perhaps it''s harnessing it. We couldn''t quite determine its origin or purpose, but the emissions were obvious."


    The video then focused on the spire in the heart of the Rift and filled the screen. "This structure," he pointed, "was guarded by individuals who, due to their distinct attire, we identified as potential high-value targets (HVTs). Their behavior suggested they were either a command element or elite cadre."


    A sea of murmurs overcame the room for a moment as everyone watched the feed. The team waited a while to let everyone have their own discussion before Schwarz decided to pick up where Coleman left off.


    "Here you see the arrangement of their encampment," he said, standing up and pointing to a cluster of armored individuals with a laser pointer. "Notice the perimeter security and the internal checkpoints. This wasn''t a temporary setup; they''ve been here a while."


    "We monitored them for a while, but then they suddenly started exhibiting signs of their imminent departure.¡± He said as everyone watched the video of the encampment come to life with activity. "Watch their body language here, there was a sense of urgency that wasn''t present before. They¡¯re gesturing aggressively, which could indicate a dispute or change in plans."


    Coleman then pressed a button on a laptop sitting on a table, and the video fast-forwarded to show the individuals beginning to pack up with haste. "Our assessment led us to believe that something, maybe a communication, triggered this sudden change.¡±


    The room¡¯s atmosphere grew tense, as field officers and flag officers started discussing theories. "Based on this development," Coleman continued, "we initiated communication with the QRF. They needed to move swiftly to intercept or before they could disappear, but unfortunately, we were too late."


    The projection flickered as the timeline sped up, showing the sequence of the rangers being deployed from the helicopters fast ropes unfurling, figures of rangers engaging the guard detail, and the aircraft lifting away. It was a well-executed insertion, but the operation was a bust and left them no closer to what the hell they just stumbled upon.


    ¡°With no HVT and no actionable intelligence, it was best to bug out before the enemy''s own QRF responded.¡± Coleman finished, his expression taut with a hint of annoyance.


    The assembled officers of every rank and branch leaned in, trying to wrap their brain around what just transpired. The loss of a high-value target was a setback, but it was not the end of the operation, it was merely a shift.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the outcome we anticipated, but it¡¯s not entirely fruitless either. Every encounter, successful or not, provides us with valuable information.¡± Captain Alleck Dohmer, a Navy Seal commanding officer, spoke up. ¡°Whatever information they received, spooked them enough to get the hell out of there, so the question is what?¡±


    Tapping his finger on the table, Captain Dohmer looked at his colleagues in the Special Operations Command (SOCOM) and the conventional military. ¡°Perhaps they¡¯ve got eyes on us and are watching our build up and realized we¡¯re going to make our own moves soon.¡±


    A United States Marine Corp (USMC) General nodded in agreement. "We need to assume they have some level of counter-intelligence at play. It''s imperative we review our operational security measures and the potential for leaks."


    ¡°My question is; what in the fuck is that thing?¡± Brigadier General Lawrence Hargrove, gestured to the still image of the strange marble spire emitting energy. ¡°Is this a weapon? Is this some sort of communication device, or-¡±


    ¡°How they opened the rift?¡± Elijah randomly blurted out, causing everyone to snap their heads towards him and stare.


    Coleman pinched the bridge of his nose, a hint of frustration showing through his otherwise composed demeanor. ¡°Elijah, now¡¯s not the time-¡±


    Another officer, this time General Michael Jones from the Air Force raised a hand and stopped Coleman from his reprimand. ¡°No, No. Let him finish. I¡¯m curious.¡±


    Suppressing a disgruntled sigh, Coleman shot Elijah a glare.The man was not typically the one to theorize on operational intelligence, he was just a medic. But now he was being bolstered by General Jones'' interest.


    The room was still, every officer and analyst waiting to hear more.


    ¡°Sir, with all due respect.¡± Elijah raised his hands in submission as his eyes danced between the officers and Coleman. ¡°I¡¯m just the doc, I don¡¯t really know what I''m talking about.¡±


    Unsatisfied with that answer, General Jones knocked on the table to get his and everyone''s attention. ¡°Your perspective as a medic isn¡¯t worth any less than anyone else''s in this room. As a matter of fact, as an operator that took part in this operation, you could have spotted something no one else had or provide invaluable insight into the matter.¡±


    Elijah felt the weight of the room''s eyes upon him including the daggers Coleman was shooting at this moment. The man knew he had no choice but to elaborate on his earlier interruption.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Elijah replied slowly and tentatively, ¡°I was just thinking that¡­ the spire is in the middle of the rift, right?¡±


    The room remained silent as they waited for the medic to continue.


    A cold jolt of nerves shot up Elijah¡¯s spine as he felt the pressure building. ¡°And there¡¯s this strange material or energy surrounding the entire rift as if it¡¯s holding it together. Our HVTs were also positioned around it for a while, like chanting, praying or whatever around it. I don''t think that was just happenstance; they were protecting it, or maybe channeling it somehow."


    Murmurs spread across the room like wildfire with Elijah¡¯s words acting as the kindling, each person pondering the implications of such an absurd theory. It wasn''t just the position of the spire, but the behavior of the high-value targets and the enemy¡¯s reaction lent credence to the theory.


    Captain Dohmer, catching on to the hesitant yet insightful demeanor of Elijah, leaned forward. ¡°It makes sense, especially since everyone except the HVT¡¯s were stopped and turned away¡­¡± The man then leaned back heavily in his chair and folded his arms as he tried to think. ¡°We need to secure it, and we need to secure it NOW.¡±


    The Captain then suddenly stood up and started marching to the door. ¡°We need to throw everything at this, I¡¯ll divert my boys. Pike, can you get your rangers on this?¡±


    Army Colonel Matthew Pike stood up as well and nodded. ¡°Coleman, get you and your team back on those choppers in ten.¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 21

    Elijah furrowed his brow as he stared up at the strange dark marble-like spire that pierced up from the earth before him.


    It stood like a sinister monolith, its smooth, yet impossibly dark surface nearly completely absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The thing was as if it were a shard of darkness itself, implanted into the ground as an insult to the sun.


    However, what really sparked Elijah¡¯s interest wasn¡¯t the material of its strange construction, but the destroyed landscape around it. Almost as if it had suddenly and violently erupted from the ground¡­


    Scratching his head, Elijah looked around and saw enormous trees, uprooted and tossed around as if they were nothing but twigs. Turning his attention back to the base of the spire, he then set his eyes on what was left of a shattered rock formation, seemingly turned to glass hugged on to the structure''s impossibly smooth voidlike surface. It was obvious that the rock formation had been sitting on top of where this thing came out of, but now it was as if the spire had absorbed the very essence of the geological features around it, leaving behind a crystalline residue that shimmered with a strange, unnatural light.


    The juxtaposition of light or energy being absorbed while simultaneously trying to escape left Elijah unnerved as his mind raced to reconcile the scene before him with any known natural phenomenon. However, the medic was educated enough to realize what he was looking at just wasn''t right. There was no word in his vocabulary that could adequately describe the aberration before him, it was as if this spire was an abomination, an affront to the natural order of the world, a physical impossibility that defied the rules he had come to understand about his environment.


    ¡°Please¡­ help¡­¡± The ever so slight whisper seemed to slither through the air, bypassing his ears and resonating directly within his mind. Elijah winced, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple as if he could physically squeeze out the intrusion. ¡°... Release me.¡±


    Elijah¡¯s head snapped around looking for anyone in ear shot, but he found himself alone. Only the throbbing hum of rotor blades cutting through the air or the mixed units that had participated in the air assault could be heard.


    He blinked for a few moments in an attempt to clear his mind.


    It must be the lack of sleep¡­


    They had been on the edge for days as they observed this place and if one went too long without proper rest, well then the human mind could conjure all sorts of tricks under stress. And yet, as he took a step back, a pang of... was it guilt?... tugged at his chest. Elijah felt as if there was a desperate and sorrowful plea for freedom called so earnestly, that it had pierced through the layers of his exhaustion and skepticism.


    Glancing back at the spire, Elijah felt a strange kinship with it. Maybe it was his own desire for a break from the chaos of this reality that made him imagine this voice and empathize with it. Or perhaps, there really was¡­ something trapped within that alien column of darkness, reaching out to him specifically.


    However, Elijah couldn¡¯t quite figure out why as he looked around to see the veritable army around him. They had landed without no resistance and no enemy presence except for the corpses from the earlier raid. Instead of a quick reaction force quickly securing the area like they planned for, they were met with bizarre creatures with forms and movements alien to their world, scavenging amongst the fallen.


    Elijah tilted the headphones hinged on his helmet and rubbed his temples, but suddenly a voice resounded next to him, causing the medic to nearly jump out of his skin.


    ¡°Hey Eli, go touch it.¡± Bennett¡¯s called out right next to the medic.


    For a microsecond, Elijah entertained the idea before he turned his head to look at Bennett with an expression that spoke of disbelief bordering on incredulity. ¡°What the fuck? No.¡± He replied with a tone that suggested he thought Bennett was an idiot. ¡°How about you fuckin¡¯ touch it?¡±


    Bennett chuckled dryly, the smirk on his face faltering a bit as he too turned to look back at the spire. "C¡¯mon, you could be the chosen one or some shit and get some funky powers!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, dipshit.¡± Elijah replied almost deadpan as he turned away. ¡°The only thing I¡¯m chosen to do is your mom.¡±


    The retort drew a chuckle  from Bennett as the medic walked away shaking his head. Even though he knew it was a joke, he couldn¡¯t quite believe how anyone would willingly touch that goddamn thing. Elijah made his way over to where his team leader, Coleman, was deep in discussion with a commander from the ranger company who spearheaded the raid.. The two men were huddled over what looked like an alien map, their expressions were a mixture of confusion and caution.


    "...just doesn''t make any sense," Coleman was saying, picking up several more documents and scrolls. "Why the hell would they just leave all this shit here instead of burning it or taking it with them.¡±


    The ranger commander, Major William Sutton, scratched his chiseled chin "Doesn''t make any sense to me either, they had plenty of time, so there¡¯s no real explanation.¡± He replied, looking over at the other strange magical items scattered around. ¡°I would say this is a trap, but¡­ where¡¯s the trap part?¡±


    With his gaze wandering back to the spire, Sutton continued, "I mean, if it''s a trap, it''s poorly executed. No follow-up, no ambush, nothing.¡±


    Coleman poked at a small, strangely ornate device at the end of the table before turning to see Eli standing there. ¡°You find anything useful?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­ not really.¡± Elijah shrugged as his gaze drifted over to the device Coleman had been fiddling with. "Just more questions more than anything else.¡±


    Elijah then spotted several flasks of all sizes with strange glowing liquids in them. ¡°Everything here is kind of out of my frame of reference other than video games and media.¡± He gestured towards the flasks with his chin. "I mean, these could be potions that heal you or give you power, but I wouldn¡¯t rely on media logic if you know what I mean.


    ¡°Without the right equipment or knowledge, they might as well be radiation in a bottle." The medic''s voice was tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. "And that," he pointed at the spire, "is giving me serious ''do not touch'' vibes." He lied.


    In truth, Elijah was still drawn to the spire, that pitiful voice still echoed in his mind like a silent plea. He could almost feel the pull of it, like a tide beckoning him to wade into unknown waters. Despite his dismissal to Bennett, the medic couldn''t shake the feeling of a presence within the spire, something sentient and aware. It felt imprisoned, yes, but more than that, it felt wronged, as if betrayal had led to its confinement.


    Shaking his head, Elijah turned his attention back to his team leader and Major Sutton. He had to pay attention and push his intrusive thoughts out until he could properly figure it out. ¡°I get it though, the area looked like a stage set after the actors had long departed.¡± Elijah said, walking over to the flasks and picking up a specific one with a bright orange glow. ¡°Props left in disarray with no discernible logic, maps and battle plans strewn across the table.¡±


    He tilted the flask in his hand, causing the viscous liquid to gently slosh about. Another curiosity that his subconscious begged him to explore, but caution stayed his hand. This wasn¡¯t a video game where Elijah could just respawn and or revive. It was a stupid thought, but at least this one was his own.


    Bennett sauntered over, his eyes flickering at all the strange equipment in the tent. ¡°You guys find anything?¡± He asked after clapping a hand onto Elijah¡¯s shoulder,


    ¡°Ya, maps, trinkets and potions or some shit.¡± Coleman replied, poking at another oddity.


    Major Sutton picked up another and even smaller flask with blue glowing liquid that would become brighter whenever it moved. ¡°Lab rats are gonna have a field day with this garbage.¡± The Ranger commander said with a raised eyebrow


    ¡°Man they¡¯d be on this like a fat kid on ice cream.¡± Elijah agreed with a chuckle as he carefully placed the orange-glowing flask back onto the makeshift table. ¡°I can¡¯t blame them to be honest, I really want to know what this stuff is too-¡± His gaze inadvertently wandered back to the spire and fell upon a figure slowly approaching it. ¡°Who the fuck is that?¡±


    Elijah''s voice trailed off mid-sentence as his eyes narrowed. Standing in front of the spire was a soldier dressed in the familiar garb of camo like the rest of them, yet details weren¡¯t quite¡­ right. The pattern on the uniform was a jigsaw that didn''t quite fit together; it mimicked their own but was just a shade too dark, a line too straight or overlapped in ways that wasn¡¯t standard. Not only that the individual¡¯s gear was almost a caricature of standard issue equipment, pouches where no pouch should be, holsters where there should be any, and the shapes of his weapon had been exaggerated as if drawn by someone who had only heard descriptions but never actually seen them.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    No one else from Elijah¡¯s ODA or the mixed units of Rangers, Marines, or SEALs was anywhere near the spire. They were spread out, establishing a perimeter, or sifting through the chaos of left-behind alien artifacts. This figure was an anomaly, an outlier that sent a silent shockwave of alert through Elijah''s already frazzled senses.


    The medic felt the curious glances of his teammates as they followed his line of sight to the misplaced soldier. The foreignness of the individual¡¯s gear wasn¡¯t lost on them either especially since the odd man seemed to be alone.


    ¡°Does he belong to one of the other units?¡± Sutton asked, his voice lined with the authority of command but edged with the uncertainty the sight warranted.


    Before anyone could answer, Elijah snapped his weapon towards the individual and flipped off his safety. ¡°STOP!¡± The man bellowed, pushing his way out of the tent. ¡°TAKE ONE MORE STEP AND I¡¯LL FUCKING WASTE YOU!¡±


    The figure halted, but it was already directly in front of the spire. The strange soldier''s hands remained at its side nor did it show any indication that it understood the threat, instead it just stood there, eerily still, as if waiting for something to happen.


    A horrid chill ran Elijah¡¯s spine as he adjusted the rifle in his grip. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife, and despite the confusion of everyone in the encampment, the discipline drilled into each soldier kept the situation from devolving into chaos. Everywhere around them activity seemed to slow as more eyes found the scene unfolding by the spire. Some soldiers, unsure of the threat, began to align their weapons with Elijah''s stance, while others continued to scan the horizon, their bodies tight with the stress of potential conflict from any direction.


    Whispers and muttered questions were lost in the sound of sand crunching under boots and the occasional metallic click of a safety being disengaged. Everyone waited for a cue from their commanders or the mysterious figure itself.


    ¡°HANDS! SHOW ME YOUR FUCKING HANDS!¡± Elijah ordered, while the low hum of the spire kept on spewing energy into the rift. However, that hum seemed to rise in pitch,a detail that didn¡¯t go unnoticed by the more detail oriented among them. It was as if the spire was¡­ excited and was screaming in excitement that was just on the cusp of human hearing.


    Major Sutton stepped beside Elijah with his own weapon pointed at the figure. "Hold your fire," he said calmly, yet loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Keep him covered, but nobody fires unless I give the word."


    He turned slightly to address one of his men without taking his eyes off the figure. "Get me comms with the other units. I want to confirm if anyone''s missing a man."


    Elijah kept his weapon trained on the figure, the order to hold fire battling with his instinct that screamed that something was fundamentally wrong. The figure had yet to make another move, but its mere presence was an intrusion that set his every nerve on edge.


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t move, I don¡¯t shoot.¡± Elijah replied as he attempted to steady his nerves. His finger slid off the receiver and hovered over the trigger, an action that was both one of escalation and self-restraint.


    Every fiber of his being screamed at him to pull the trigger, he felt as if not killing what was in front of him was against every impulse in his body.


    Coleman, who had been quietly observing from a few steps back, had never seen Elijah this spooked before. Even in the worst firefights, Elijah had always had this borderline sociopathic cool, calm and connectedness that seemed unflappable as a matter of fact, most of his rowdy behavior had been more for his own entertainment than anything else. But now, Coleman could see the lines of strain etched across his medic¡¯s face, the way his eyes darted, searching for the slightest movement as a justification for action.


    ¡°Eli,¡± Coleman said quietly. ¡°Don¡¯t let whatever freaked you out get to your head, we need to handle this one step at a time. We don¡¯t want a blue on blue.¡± He tried to soothe the obviously frazzled Elijah,


    However, the man¡¯s grip on his rifle didn¡¯t wane. Whatever the hell he was aiming at, wasn¡¯t part of their reality, not entirely. The alien nature of it clawed at Elijah''s mind, urging him to act.


    Major Sutton and his adjutant were deeply engrossed in their attempts to try and make sense of the headcount reports when the figure made a subtle, almost undetectable move. His arm remained by his side, but the faintest shimmer, like a heatwave on a hot road, suggested movement.


    It was all the provocation Elijah needed. The pent-up tension, the raw edge of fear and uncertainty, exploded into action. Even though his ear protection wasn¡¯t on. He didn''t hear the deafening blast of the first pull of the trigger and was only aware of the recoil slamming into his shoulder as he unloaded round after round into the figure''s back. The harsh staccato of suppressed gunfire erupted, shredding the tense and eerie calm.


    Officers and soldiers alike reacted instantly, their yells of ¡®Stand down!¡¯ or ¡®Elijah, cease fire!¡¯ mixing with the echoes of gunfire. But their pleas fell on deaf ears as Elijah opted to close the distance, still repeatedly squeezing his trigger and unloading the entire magazine into the figures back.


    Coleman ran forwards and tackled Elijah as readied a fresh mag and opened his mouth let out a scathing reprimand, but his shout was cut short as all attention snapped back to the spire. The dark energy pulsing from it stopped abruptly, as if Elijah''s rounds had not just struck the figure, but had severed a lifeline to the ominous structure itself.


    But that paled in comparison to the figure. The¡­ thing had slowly gotten up with parts of its body twist and turning in impossible ways as the sounds of sickening cracks resounded throughout the area. A stunned silence fell over the field as everyone froze in place staring at the surreal scene. Elijah''s ears rang and his chest heaved while in his peripheral vision, he saw rifles slowly raised again, confusion etching every face.


    Sutton was the first to act as he ran out of the tent and raised his rifle. ¡°WASTE IT!¡±


    A cacophony of weapon fire erupted, a thunderous chorus of every caliber imaginable hammered into the unknown. The figure was now at the center of a maelstrom of lead, yet it moved with a jerky, otherworldly grace, unaffected by the barrage. Each step it took towards them felt like a descent into madness, its form distorting, shimmering with that same heat wave distortion, as if it was a tear in the very fabric of their reality, refusing to be mended.


    Suddenly, a hellish laugh resounded across the battlefield, freezing the soldiers to their cores. The demonic figure, now fully revealed in its nightmarish glory, towered over them. It spoke again, the strange language twisting in their ears, but this time its intentions were clear. The malice in its voice required no translation.


    ¡°Well played!¡± The visage of violence itself laughed. ¡°Well done humans of another world! This servant of Alastor is impressed!¡±


    Elijah, his previous fervor replaced with a cold dread, felt the weight of his rifle as a lifeline, the only tangible thing in a world that had slipped into the pages of some twisted fairytale. Around him, soldiers were backing away, their faces pale, their weapons lowered but still ready.


    ¡°It is not often I am bested so readily by mortals!¡± The demon continued to laugh as the reverberating growl of a voice seemed to mock the very act of speech. ¡°Your fear gives you strength¡­ interesting.¡± It said as its meter long claws scraped against the ground.


    Despite the clear dismissal of their efforts as a mere amusement to the creature, there was a subtle shift in the air, a sense of grudging respect that was almost more terrifying than its scorn. The soldiers'' continued gunfire seemed to do little but stir the dust at the creature''s feet, and slowly, as if a silent command had been given, the firing ceased.


    It was then Elijah broke free of Colemans grip and pulled out an M320 grenade launcher with its sights chopped off, slipped in a 40mm HEDP grenade and pulled the trigger. The weapon gave off a thoomp sound before the grenade slammed into the monster''s face.


    A deafening roar resounded as the round exploded on contact, sending a shockwave rippling through the air. The soldiers flinched, instinctively taking cover. They watched, a blend of hope and terror in their eyes, as the smoke cleared.


    The demon stumbled back as its figure enshrouded in the dissipating smoke and dust, but the demon revealed itself once more. Its hand slid up and felt the gouge where the hypersonic jet of copper from the small shaped charge had left on its form, its interest piqued. Its hide, evidently, was impervious to conventional weaponry, but this had been different and it had definitely noticed the impact, however negligible.


    ¡°You, who are so quick to fire, do you not understand the futility?¡± the demon hissed, its gaze piercing into Elijah. The creature seemed more intrigued than threatened, its voice a rumble of distant thunder.


    Elijah met the demon''s gaze as he loaded another grenade "Your mom¡¯s futile," he retorted.


    The demon paused, its head tilting to the side as if processing the human''s brazen defiance and peculiar insult. For a moment, a surreal silence hung over the battlefield, punctuated only by the distant crackling of energy from the now dormant spire. The soldiers held their breath, their grips tightening on their weapons.


    Then, a sound that none expected: a low, guttural chuckle emanated from the demon. The laugh was devoid of warmth, a mocking acknowledgment of Elijah''s audacity.


    ¡°No wonder she is insistent on choosing you!¡± The demon rumbled, its chuckles subsiding into a tone of dark amusement. ¡°Very well, I shall grant you your lives as a token for your... spirited defense.¡± With a grandiose flourish, the demon extended a clawed hand towards the ominous spire where a strange dagger was embedded deep within its surface. The blade glowed with a strange fairy-like light, and even from a distance, they could feel energy pulsating from it.


    The air around the covered dagger was indescribable as anything other than playful as the blade seemed to recognize its new custodians with a flicker of ethereal luminescence. The demon''s gaze lingered on the soldiers around him and then on Elijah, who still stood defiantly with grenade launcher in hand, aimed directly at his face.


    Without another word, the demon''s form began to shift and contract,  turning to flames that licked the air without consuming it. In mere seconds, the laughter ceased, the malevolence that hung thick like fog dissipated, and the being that had challenged reality itself was no more than a whisper of smoke curling into the sky.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 22

    ¡°Fuck me, man¡­¡± Coleman groaned as his gaze swept across the faces around him. Each and everyone of them was etched with a blend of awe, confusions and lingering fear. The encounter had spooked them, but it also hadn¡¯t taken the fight out.


    Each highly trained fighter stood at the ready, scanning every inch of the encampment with their weapons competently gripped in their hand.


    If Coleman was honest, he couldn¡¯t blame them for their fear, especially when he felt it too. There was a literal DEMON straight out of some ancient legend after all.


    With horns and all.


    ¡°Can someone tell me what the FUCK just happened?¡± The team leader yelled, as he walked towards Elijah who reholstered his heavily modified grenade launcher..


    No one seemed to have had an answer as a deep quiet swept over the area. However, one soul spoke up as they dropped their empty magazine and slotted in a fresh one into their rifle. ¡°Eli shot a demon in the face with a grenade launcher.¡± Bennett¡¯s matter-of-fact response cut through the heavy air like a hot knife through butter.


    The light hearted reply was received with a mix of amused chuckles and celebratory cheers, but there still was an undercurrent of anxiety that was felt by every service member there. It was blatantly obvious their weapons were nowhere near effective against the infernal thing. Even the armored piercing aspects of their High Explosive Dual Purpose (HEDP) grenades did little more than scratch it and those munitions could pierce up to 76 millimeters or 3 inches of steel.


    Coleman stood for a moment, taking in Bennett''s words and replaying the scene from just a few minutes ago in his own head. ¡°That¡­ That he did.¡± He affirmed, rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.


    ¡°So¡­ Demons are real, huh?¡± Sutton asked, his voice a mix of skepticism and wonder. He stepped forward, ruffling his hair in disbelief before regaining his composure. ¡°Makes you wonder what the hell else is real¡­¡±


    A bout of silence reigned as everyone looked at each other uneasily. The implications of mythology, folklore, and legends not being just stories, now seemed to be much more probable and unnerving.


    ¡°Yeah, and apparently they¡¯re bulletproof,¡± Elijah added walking over to where he had shot the demon.


    Major Coleman nodded and narrowed his eyes as if he was looking for the demon lurking in their midst by sheer willpower alone. "Well, if the damn thing can be scratched, then that means they might be able to bleed."


    ¡°And if it can bleed, then it can be killed.¡± Sutton finished the thought as turned to the surrounding Soldiers, SEALs and Marines. ¡°Was anyone recording on their end user device? We need to get any footage we can to command.¡±


    Several servicemen voiced affirmation as they stepped forward as Sutton gaze swept back to the group, noting the affirmatives with a curt nod. "Good. Those who have visual intel, start grabbing maps, scrolls or whatever you can carry and prepare for exfil. We need to get this shit up the chain."


    While the Ranger company commander issued orders, Coleman was already switching channel¡¯s to HQ, "Warmonger, this is Baron. We''ve secured the perimeter, but we''ve encountered an unknown hostile that exhibits, uh, supernatural capabilities. Over."


    The radio was silent for a moment before Warmonger''s RTO voice responded, "Supernatural, Baron? Say again."


    It was Coleman¡¯s turn to go silent as he looked to Sutton for a few moments before getting back on the horn, ¡°We''ve¡­ engaged with an entity resembling a demonic figure. It demonstrated the ability to teleport and resisted conventional weaponry. We''ve got visual intelligence, requesting exfil."


    ¡°Wait one, Baron.¡± Warmonger replied as the line went silent.


    ¡°I bet you they think we¡¯re high as shit.¡± The bald brown skinned SEAL Elijah had been teasing earlier suddenly spoke up.


    The joke seemed far too real for anyone to laugh at. Everyone seemed to agree with the sentiment as Sutton spoke up. ¡°Hell, I don¡¯t blame them.¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I still think we¡¯re hallucinating or something.¡±


    A moment later, the radio crackled back to life, Warmonger''s RTO with a tone that was all business. ¡°Baron, Warmonger, maintain defensive posture. Exfil is being arranged, prepare your intel for transfer and await further instructions. Warmonger out.¡±


    The ODA team leader hopped back to his original channel and looked at the men that said they had captured footage of the supposed demon. ¡°Alright, you guys grab as much shit as you can and be prepared to hand off everything we¡¯ve got. We¡¯re going to hold the fort, but keep your eyes peeled and your heads down. We don¡¯t know if that thing was alone or if there¡¯s more of them.¡±


    Sutton jerked his head towards his Rangers who were looking for further confirmation. ¡°You heard ¡®em, get the fuck outta here.¡± He echoed Coleman¡¯s orders to the rest of the unit. ¡°And fuckin¡¯ break anything!¡±


    Amid the controlled chaos of preparations, no one seemed to notice Elijah''s absence at first. The seasoned soldiers, hardened from years of training and experience in the sand box, were thorough in their packing of sensitive items, or in setting up a defensive perimeter. The whirl of activity created a cacophony of noise that drowned out subtler sounds like that of Elijah¡¯s stead approach towards the Spire.


    One could say this was insanely stupid, and they¡¯d be right. And Elijah wouldn¡¯t deny someone saying curiosity killed the cat, but he¡¯d also be lying if it was just curiosity that propelled the man¡­ there was also something or someone else. A palpable, yet soft pull that asked him, no begged him to simply accept her offer of patronage. Earlier the entity had lingered in the back of Elijah¡¯s mind, trying to coerce him into doing its bidding, but now¡­ Now the entity had made itself VERY visible.


    He could feel the damn thing as it did its best to ensnare his faculties, and he felt the frustrated screams and tantrums of failure. The entity couldn¡¯t understand why it wasn¡¯t able to get a solid hold onto his mind like it did to so many others in the past. But as Elijah stood on the threshold, the presence intruding in his mind opted for a different approach. It seemed to recognize that brute insistence was futile; instead, it unfurled its emotions like a banner in the wind, letting them flow over Elijah. What hit him was not just an abstract sensation of need or command but a torrent of raw, unguarded sentiment.


    He felt the sharp sting of betrayal''s blade, it was as acute as if it were his own, along with the fear that was ancient and bone-deep, a well of anguish that had no bottom. And there, threading through it all, was an aching longing for freedom. It was as if the entity were exposing its soul to him, laying bare a history of entrapment that spanned an unimaginable gulf of time.


    ¡°Ahh¡­ So that¡¯s how it is.¡± Elijah remarked as he understood what was before him and the connection made his chest tighten.


    It was a story that he resonated with.


    There were no details, but he too knew the sharp stab of betrayal and the cold void of abandonment. These were not just memories for him but scars that had yet to fully heal and he understood all too well the value of freedom and the pain of its absence. Yet, even with this tide of shared suffering and the pull on his sympathies, Elijah knew the perils of acting on empathy or any raw emotion.


    Even he wasn¡¯t dumb enough to abandon all sense in his thirst for answers.


    Scoffing at the voice in the back of his mind, Elijah threw up a hand and waved it off. ¡°Ya sure, you can be my patron or whatever when you get out.¡±


    That half-hearted acceptance was all that the entity needed to seal a pact between the two, as the dagger suddenly sucked itself deep within the black spire with a sound like the world''s breath being taken away. Elijah recoiled, his eyes wide with shock as the stone surface began to violently ripple as if it were imploding in on itself. A torrent of light and energy that it had previously been spewing into the rift was now being absorbed back into it, spiraling in a reverse maelstrom that centered on the dagger.


    The violent action caused everyone around to snap their heads towards the spire until they ultimately rested on Elijah who was scrambling backwards on his back. But as they moved to help, they suddenly found themselves coming to a standstill as reality itself seemed to twist and turn in ways their minds couldn¡¯t properly process.


    Their horror was only amplified when a singular light and dark tendril snaked out towards Elijah who simply stared at the thing in a mixture of awe and horror.


    ¡°HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK!?¡± Elijah yelled out, trying to get away from the abomination that was snaking towards him.


    The tendril itself was an aberration of light and darkness that seemed to mingle together in a way that wasn¡¯t entirely bound by the laws of the physical world and snaked its way through the air with an eerie grace.


    Both Coleman and Bennett were in a dead sprint to reach the medic and pull him away, but they were  too late as the tendril felt around, brushing against Elijah¡¯s hand before violently stabbing its way in. Every nerve in Elijah¡¯s arm screamed as he doubled over in pain, but it was soon drowned out in a cascade of whispers, echoes of emotions and untold thoughts.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Coleman was the first to reach him as he grabbed the back of his medic¡¯s plate carrier and started pulling back with every ounce of strength. Elijah felt as if he were being torn in two, the whispers becoming a cacophony that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Bennett arrived a second later, aiding Coleman, both of them locked in a desperate tug-of-war with the unseen force that had anchored itself to their comrade.


    "Move, move, MOVE!" Coleman''s voice was a distant roar to Elijah, who was now in a haze of alien sensations until the tendrils retreated as suddenly as they had attacked, quickly slithering back into the Spire with the same unsettling grace, leaving a trail of shimmering air.


    Bennett and Coleman didn''t stop to watch the spectacle; they dragged Elijah away, his legs regaining enough strength to stumble alongside them as they made for the relative safety of distance. The whole encampment was mobilizing around them, in a protective barrier as everyone pointed their weapons and shouted on their radios.


    Elijah''s vision was blurred, his mind awash with more than just his own thoughts. He could feel the entity, its essence mingling with his and it was yelling angrily at him for his soul being so hard to brand.


    But soon the yelling came to a cease and a horrifying quiet took its place.


    The air around the Spire seemed to silently vibrate with the aftershocks of the reclamation of energy. The black structure that had once pulsed with a malevolent darkness was now a different entity altogether. As the final strands of energy were drawn back into the Spire with the green-leafed dagger at its heart.


    With the strange aura that surrounded the rift completely consumed, every around the spire stood still as if it were silent as the eye of a storm. Then, as if exhaling after holding its breath for an eternity, the surface of the stone began to change. What was once an obsidian monolith was now morphing into something much more ordinary in appearance, yet extraordinary in detail.


    The ancient looking spire no longer had its once smooth and dark features, instead it took on a more mundane appearance with intricate and complex patterns engraved into it. The patterns themselves looked to be an endless labyrinth of mazes that wound around the spire in continuous, unbroken lines and each line intersected and overlapped, creating a tapestry of stone that baffled the mind.


    ¡°What the fuck happened to me!?¡± Elijah shouted, quickly pulling off as much gear and he possibly could. The medic kept looking at his hand where the tendril had stabbed him, but there was no wound, no mark to be seen. The skin was unbroken, as if the entity''s touch had been a phantom pain.


    "Hey, hey, Elijah, look at me, man," Coleman said, gripping his shoulder firmly, trying to ground his comrade''s panic with a firm but worried gaze. "You''re alright, brother. No blood, no entry wound."


    Bennett, who was helping to remove Elijah''s body armor, spoke up in retort. ¡°This is magic shit! The wound could be internal!"


    Elijah''s breaths were ragged as he replied, "I don''t know! I don¡¯t know! I fuckin like¡­! I can fucking FEEL something inside me! Something''s there, man!" He clenched his fists, trying to shake off the invasive presence. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m going to die to a FUCKIN¡¯ ROCK!¡±


    That''s when a Navy SEAL Corpsman arrived, sliding next to him pulling off his medpack. "Let''s get him stable," one said, moving with practiced urgency. "We need to check vitals and-"


    But their professional calm was interrupted as a loud crack echoed across the area, cutting through the murmurs and anxiety of the soldiers. They all turned toward the sound, eyes fixing on the Spire.


    The cracks that had been forming along its intricate patterns while they were talking were now deepening into a network of fractures that spread like wildfire over the stones surface. As they watched, pieces of the Spire began to fall away, but each fragment was sucked into the small vortex that surrounded the dagger.


    "The hell is happening to it?" Bennett asked, still in the process of stripping off Elijah¡¯s gear.


    "It''s like... it''s imploding," Sutton added, his voice low with awe and fear.


    And indeed, the Spire seemed to be collapsing in on itself, the grooves glowing faintly with residual energy as if the structure could no longer contain the force within. The glow intensified, and a low hum filled the air, a vibration that everyone could feel in their bones.


    Elijah, still dazed but aware of the danger, looked on with a mix of horror and fascination. The entity within him was silent, but something told him that wasn¡¯t going to last forever as the structure finally consumed itself into one small fiery orb.


    The orb slowly became brighter and brighter and slowly crept towards the group of soldiers, slagging the ground below it. But the light was so intense, it caused every soldier to shield their eyes with their hands or turn away. As they braced themselves against the unknown, a force swept over them like a gust from an explosion, yet there was no heat, no wind, no sound, just an impossibly intense light that enveloped everything for what seemed less than a heartbeat.


    Then, as suddenly as it came, it vanished with a soft, almost delicate pop, leaving behind an eerie quietness that hovered in the air.


    Tentatively, they all turned back to look at where the spire should have stood and instead they were greeted with the strangest sight they¡¯ve ever seen. Just in front of them were only the liquified remains of the ground and just above it floated a diminutive creature, whose appearance was a stark contrast to the destruction that had just occurred.


    No larger than the palm of one''s hand, the being fluttered about with delicate wings that flickered with iridescent hues of purple. Her ears were pointed, framing a face that bore an expression of smug satisfaction and sharp intelligence and as she fluttered in place. The still burning flame of her head stood in place for hair that stood in stark contrast to the molten ground that began to cool and reform, as if her mere presence commanded the chaos to order.


    ¡°Mmmm¡­ freedom¡­¡± The creature stretched and moaned in delight, showing itself to be similar to a¡­ fairy.


    But as she refocused, her smug grin stretched into a toothy grin exposing the razor like jagged knives she called teeth as soon as she spotted Elijah. ¡°Well done mortal!¡± The creature chirped happily and bolted past every soldier in a blink of an eye before hovering just in front of the medic.


    Elijah''s heart hammered against his ribcage, both from the creature''s sudden proximity and the intensity of the situation. Despite the creature''s small size, he could FEEL the power emanating from her from whatever bond the thing formed with him.


    Soldiers all around him instinctively readied their, but none could get a good shot on the small¡­ being with it hovering so close to the special forces team¡¯s medic.


    "You have unbound me," the creature said, her voice a singsong that belied the danger of her shark-toothed smile. "A deed neither small nor simple. I owe you a debt, Elijah."


    It just came to the soldiers, marines and SEALs that they could understand the being, but what really made them stiffen, was the mention of Elijah¡¯s name. The creature''s knowledge of it hinted at an unseen connection between her and their medic.


    Elijah swallowed hard, his mind racing with questions about what had transpired and what the entity in front of him wanted. He felt the very back of his mind of an unspoken covenant that seemed to have formed. It was as if as soon as he thought to ask, who she was or why she knew his name, an alien and strange contract would flood his memory.


    Zipping around his face, the fairy inspected him closer with a look of befuddlement on her face. ¡°It¡¯s quite surprising that mortals were able to break my bindings however.¡± The fairy said in wonder before she giggled. ¡°I suppose I should properly thank you!¡±


    ¡°W-what? Nononononono! I¡¯m okay!¡± Elijah waved his hands in denial as he tried to edge away.


    ¡°Oh heavens, no¡­ That won¡¯t do!¡± An even more vicious smile spread across her face. ¡°I can¡¯t let my slav- I mean savior go unrewarded!¡± Another evil giggle left her mouth.


    Everyone stared in shock as the scene played out. "Ehehehe! Don''t worry little one!" The Fairy again closed the gap within a blink of an eye. "I wON''t HuRt YOU" Its distorted voice resounded as its eyes flashed blindingly.


    Throwing up his hands in defense, Elijah shut his eyes and braced himself.


    However, nothing happened.


    ¡°Huh?¡± The fairy said in confusion as she placed her hand on his head again, casting the same spell. ¡°Why wont it work!?¡±


    Elijah reacted immediately and tried to swat her away, but the thing teleported to the other side of his head and let out another brilliant flash. More swipes came her way, but the fairy simply dodged each hand trying to smack her away.


    ¡°Is this empty!? Helllooooooo?¡± The fairy yelled, bonking Elijah on the forehead with its fist. ¡°Is anyone in there!?¡±


    BONK BONK


    Every comrade around him seemed to be in complete disbelief as they stared at the spectacle, but Elijah simply became more and more frustrated as he started flailing around. But with each swing, the Fairy simply dodged with the same befuddled and perplexed look on her face as she tried to figure out why her spell wasn¡¯t working


    ¡°CAN YOU FUCK OFF ALREADY!?¡± Elijah yelled, grabbing his pistol and unholstering it.


    ¡°Rude! I¡¯m trying to do you a favor you idiot!¡± The fairy shot back with her hands on her hips. ¡°I don¡¯t know what this ¡®fuck¡¯ means, but it sounds rude!¡± She reprimanded with a pout on her face while turning its face away. ¡°You¡¯re rude!¡±


    Sutton turned to Coleman with a strange look on his face. ¡°What the fuck is happening?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, don¡¯t.¡± Coleman paused as he kept staring at the surreal events playing out in front of him. ¡° Don¡¯t ask me.¡±


    Elijah gripped his pistol tightly in his hand as his mind raced for how to get rid of this new menace. She was small and impossibly quick, so drawing her out of the question, but he was still determined to get this damned thing away from him, so any attempt is a good attempt in his eyes.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Elijah said, taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. He holstered the pistol, a gesture of peace. ¡°I apologize for that. It''s been... a lot, to take in. Can we start over?¡±


    The fairy¡¯s countenance shifted as her wings slowed their flutter, the iridescence dimming to a soft glow. ¡°Hmm... I suppose I could forgive you¡­¡± She mused to herself. ¡°Very well, but first, as your patron and master, you must tell me how you¡¯re resisting my mind spell.¡±


    That¡¯s when a thought struck him.


    ¡°Sure¡­ Ya, I can do that.¡± Elijah replied with the gears turning in his head.


    Bennett raised an eyebrow knowing full well that Elijah was lying and was going to pull some bullshit like he usually does. ¡°This motherfucker¡­¡± He cursed himself as he read his body language. The engineer knew EXACTLY what this devious bastard was going to do.


    A cruel smile formed on Elijah¡¯s face as he put a little distance between him and his so-called patron. ¡°Here, I just need you to float in place¡­¡±


    ¡°Like this?¡± The fairy replied curiously looking at her own body to make sure she was doing as instructed.


    ¡°Ya, like that.¡±


    Suddenly the iconic sharp crack of a gunshot rang out as the small being exploded into small chunks of gore.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 23

    While everyone in the encampment had fallen deafeningly quiet, Bennett decided to just roll with the absurdity and voiced his own thoughts. .¡°The mere fact that something so stupid worked, pisses me off...¡± The engineer said with annoyance while he flicked a tiny hand off his sleeve.


    ¡°Heh.¡± Elijah let out a smug huff as he jammed his pistol back into his holster.


    Coleman however, stood completely stunned as he stared at what was left of the fairy, unable to fully accept what had just happened. The thing had promptly exploded in a dramatic fashion, showering everyone in its proximity with strange bloodless gore.


    ¡°Is this what happens when you do DMT?¡± Sutton commented, completely at a loss for words. He had trained nearly all his life to think on his feet and deal with any situation, except this. Magic, demons and now fairies. There was a limit to what they were prepared for, and this was FAR beyond that threshold. "Because I get the feeling this is the type of shit Joe Rogan sees when he keep talking about DMT"


    ¡°Actually I feel like this is some men in black shit.¡± The brown skinned bald SEAL from earlier pulled his neck gaiter down to show a scruffy face. ¡°We should also probably get this dumbass back to be quarantined or something.¡± He pointed a thumb at Elijah who was still being treated by the SEAL¡¯s Corpman.


    Elijah shot the bald man a glare that could curdle milk. "Fuck you, Mack! How the hell was I supposed to know I was making a deal with some psycho fairy!?" he snapped, the smugness from before wiped away by sheer exasperation. "God damnit, now those fuckin¡¯ nerds are gonna start poking and prodding at me like i¡¯m some kind of fuckin mutant rat."


    Mack simply shrugged with a smirk on his face that said this really wasn¡¯t his problem. "Hey, I¡¯m not the one with space aids." The man said with humor filled eyes. ¡°Shoulda thought about that before you started fucking around with the spire.¡±


    ¡°Shut your marginalized Mr. Clean lookin¡¯ ass up.¡± He retorted, snapping his head at the shiny headed man, followed by a colorful slew of profanities, each one more inventive than the last. Everyone started to chuckle, but the medic was abruptly cut off by a low, dangerous snarl from the SEAL Platoon¡¯s corpsman.


    "Stop. Moving." The corpsman''s voice was quiet but carried the kind of authority that made even a hard-headed operative like Elijah pause mid-rant.


    Elijah flinched away from the corpsman who glaring at him with zero tolerance for his antics. "We don¡¯t know what that spire or that god damn fairy did to you, so stop hopping around like a dipshit when I''m trying to make sure you don''t drop dead from magic fuckery." The corpsman snapped, forcing Elijah to hold still. ¡°You¡¯re a god damn medic, you should fucking know these things¡­¡± The SEAL continued to grumble as he went back to his work.


    Bennett, having witnessed the entire exchange, walked over and gave Elijah an insufferable smirk. ¡°Well, well, well¡­ How the turn tables.¡±


    The stupid reference caused Elijah¡¯s eye to flick up at the engineer in irritation, but he wasn¡¯t able to retaliate unless he drew the ire of the corpsman who was checking his vitals.


    "Yeah, laugh it up," Elijah shot back with a scowl, "You''re just jealous you didn''t get to shoot Tinkerbell."


    An incredulous look formed on Bennett¡¯s face that said he thought that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. ¡°Ya, no thanks.¡± He replied, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯d rather eat shit than deal with whatever cosmic voodoo bullshit you''ve just signed up for."


    A disgruntled huff of air left Elijah¡¯s nose as he finally sat upright. The corpsman gave him a difficult look as he finished checking Elijah¡¯s vitals. ¡°I don¡¯t know what the fuck is wrong with you, so¡­¡± The corpsman stood up and walked away. ¡°Keep your cosmic aids away from me, this is the eggheads problem now.¡±


    Coleman watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and concern. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of command heavy on his shoulders. With a deep breath, he turned to Sutton, who was already looking his way, both wearing complex expressions.


    "We¡­ should update Warmonger," Coleman stated with a lot less confidence than a Army Special Forces officer should. "They need the full picture, especially after this... fairy fiasco."


    Sutton nodded in agreement. "Yeah¡­ This is completely out of both of our paygrades." He said before turning around, walking off to organize and see to the entrenchment of their new beachhead.


    Another sigh left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he reached for his radio¡¯s push-to-talk and with a click of the transmit button, the special forces Major spoke with a clear, concise voice.


    "Warmonger, this is Baron. Sitrep as follows,¡± he spoke in a clear and concise voice, but paused as he looked over at Elijah who was busy putting back on his heart. ¡°Post-encounter with the entity resulted in the structural collapse of the spire and the¡­ manifestation of unidentified entity,¡±


    As the fuss around his medic started to get louder, Coleman turned away as well and started walking to where the pillar had imploded. ¡° Entity has been neutralized by, but we potentially have someone compromised by¡­ unknown variables.¡± He continued, looking around at the slagged rockets that had finally cooled. ¡°Request immediate medevac for assessment and containment. How copy, over?"


    ¡°Warmonger copies all, we were watching. Wait one.¡±


    While Coleman waited for HQ¡¯s reply, His eyes scanned the perimeter as he kept his push-to-talk in his hand. The aftereffects of the day''s chaos had left the area looking like something out of a nightmare, with a gaping dark hole where the spire had once stood.


    But what was most fascinating was the landscape around the nonexistent structure. Whatever that spire really was, it looked as if it had suddenly and violently exploded from the ground, leaving the area scarred.


    The radio crackled to life once more, and Warmonger''s voice returned with instructions, "Baron, Warmonger. CBRN medevac en route, ETA five mikes. Maintain maintain security of the area and report the current status of compromised individual, over."


    Coleman glanced back at Elijah, who was now under the watchful eye of his teammates, ensuring he didn''t exacerbate any unknown condition he might have contracted from the encounter. "Compromised individual is stable with no visible signs of physical trauma.¡± He replied looking down the hole where the spire once stood and saw nothing but a void. ¡°Casualty¡¯s exhibiting no immediate symptoms, but potential exposure to unknown anomalous effects, over."


    "Roger that, Baron. Keep us updated on any changes. Secure any intel gathered for debrief upon return. Warmonger out."


    With the medevac on its way, Coleman stepped down from his vantage point and made his way back to the team, his mind already going over every detail they would need to report. The reality of paperwork and debriefings that were going to be involved with this shitshow weighed on the teamleader like a 10 ton boulder.


    ¡°At least there¡¯s no way this day can be even more of a clusterfuck¡­¡± Coleman grumbled to himself as he rejoined his team. "Alright shit heads, let''s make sure everything''s ready for when the bird lands. And someone keep an eye on Eli-" The words got caught in Coleman¡¯s mouth as he stared at Elijah with wide eyes.


    Elijah himself had confusion marked all over his face when has saw everyone had the same shocked expression as Coleman and was slowly backing away. ¡°What? What''s wrong? Am I growing a third arm?¡± Elijah looked around and finally noticed the figure sitting on his shoulder.


    ¡°Hmmmmm¡­¡± A familiar voice hummed as she bounced her leg on top of the other. ¡°You mortals can see me? How fascinating¡­¡± She murmured in interest. ¡°Clever too¡­¡±


    A deafening silence permeated the entire encampment as everyone stared at a being who, just not a few minutes ago, blew into chunks of flesh. However, the silence ended when the little thing immediately blinked in front of Elijah¡¯s face the moment he stood up and in turn, grabbed ahold of his face with both hands in a wide hug.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°HOLY SHIT-AHHHHHH!¡± Elijah yelped as he flailed and fell backward, tripping over his own medpack.


    ¡° I LIKE MY SERVANTS CLEVER!¡± The fairy yelled joyously before a vicious cackle left its mouth. ¡±AHAHAHAHA! SUCH POTENTIAL!¡±


    The Fairy¡¯s laughter echoed through the encampment, reverberating off the debris and the remaining structures, sending a shiver down the spine of every soldier present. With the creature''s hands still affixed to Elijah''s face, a new tune left her mouth as a distorted chant resounded like it was being amplified.


    Suddenly, within a blink of an eye, strange marks engraved themselves into the ground across the entire encampment. The soldiers, regardless of how trained or disciplined, instinctively started to back away, shielding their eyes from the blinding light that emanated from the giant and strange pulsating glyph underneath their feet.


    ¡°AHAHAHAHAHA!¡± A manic expression painted the fairy¡¯s face as she cackled. ¡°YOU¡¯LL MAKE SUCH A PROMISING APOSTLE!¡± It said, coming to the conclusion that whatever this mortal was must have been insanely powerful to resist the touches of soul magic.


    But one second turned to two seconds as the glyph burned brighter and brighter, ¡°AHAHAHahahaha¡­hah¡­ wait¡­¡± A sound of concern left the fairy¡¯s mouth.


    Looking around she noticed that the vast majority wasn¡¯t just being put into her binding spell, but being sucked into landscape on the other side of the poorly constructed gateway. As a matter of fact, her power was being consumed at an alarming rate.


    And it was only increasing by orders of magnitude.


    ¡°Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!¡± The thing yelled, trying to stop whatever was happening, but unfortunately¡­


    It was far too late.


    ¡°NONONONONONONO, WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!!!¡± The fairy screamed as she looked around at even the power that had been stolen from her was flowing out from the world around her. ¡°I DIDN¡¯T MEAN TO BIND AN ENTIRE WORLD!¡±


    Panic started to fill the small being as it felt nearly every ounce of its power drain away into the insatiable maw of the glyph. The light became so blinding that none of the soldiers could look directly at it.


    ¡°SHUT IT OFF! SHUT IT OFF!¡± The fairy screeched, now in a full-blown panic. Her voice no longer melodic but sharp with fear in the realization that the mortal she was trying to bind wasn¡¯t from this reality.


    By this time, the fairy had already let go of Elijah and floated into the air to look around at eons of power being consumed by another reality. But as soon as it started, the spell stopped and winked out of existence causing the fairy to immediately drop out of the air and and right onto Elijah¡¯s fae


    ¡°OOF!¡± The strange being yelled out in pain before scrambling to her feet.


    Elijah was in the process of sitting up right with a mix of shock and fear spread across his face. Looking his body up and down, he noticed that he was in one piece and wasn¡¯t growing any extra limbs. However, he also caught sight of an angry looking fairy with fiery hard standing on his abdomen.


    ¡°Y-You!¡± It pointed its finger and jabbed Elijah¡¯s face. ¡°Give it back! Gimme back my power!¡±


    ¡°What the fuck¡­ just happened?¡± Elijah groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He chose to ignore the fairy floating up with its beating wings and looked at his comrades also recovering for their stupor.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were from another world! You didn¡¯t tell me you weren¡¯t from this reality!! It whined before zipping to Elijah¡¯s head and beat on it with her tiny fists. ¡°Gimme it back, gimme it back, gimme it back, gimme it back, you thief!¡± The fairy continued its ineffective abuse.


    Again, Elijah waved his hand in an attempt to smack the annoying thing away from him, fully expecting for it to vanish and show up the other side of his head. However, surprise spread across his face as his hand found purchase on a small body, sending it rocketing away from him towards the ground.


    ¡°OOF!¡± The fairy cried out as Elijah watched the thing recoil off the ground cartwheeling a full meter before coming to a full stop, face down. There the fairy thing laid stock still for almost a minute until it finally stirred and slowly got up with trembling arms.


    Squinting his eyes and giving them a good rub, Bennett clutched his weapon tightly with his dominant hand as he scowled. ¡°What the FUCK just happened!?¡± The engineer then started looking his body up and down to make sure he was in one piece.


    While the rest of the soldiers and marines did the same, Elijah was busy fending off an even more determined little nuisance. ¡°You¡­¡± The Fairy said with tears in its eyes while it wobbled on its tiny legs ¡°You thief! Why¡¯d you take it all! You took all of it!¡±


    ¡°I only wanted to give you a little bit, but you and your stupid world took it ALL!¡± the thing wailed as it pulled and yanked. ¡°Gimme it baaaaaack!¡±


    Elijah winced in pain as the belligerent fairy grabbed a fist full of hair from under his helmet and started pulling. Fed up with the assault, the medic reach up and grab the little fucker, cause her to squirm. ¡°Can you STOP?¡± He demanded glaring at the small, snarling gremlin.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do this to me! I¡¯m a goddess! A real one!¡± The fairy protested as she did her best to resist his grip. ¡°I curse you! I¡¯ll damn you! I¡¯ll eat your soul! I¡¯ma goddess ya know!¡±


    Never in all his years had Elijah wanted to squeeze the life out of something so small until he ran into this insufferable little shit. It was beyond him how something so cute and small could be so god damn troublesome, annoying and most of all, persistent.


    ¡°How about I just break every bone in your body- OW FUCK!¡± Elijah tried to threaten the tiny thing, but she retaliated by biting down on his hand with her razor sharp teeth.


    By reflex, Elijah flinched away and let go of the small menace, but she immediately followed up with another bite, this time aimed at his face. Cocking his arm back, Elijah reacted by letting loose a full powered punch that connected and set the being rocketing towards the ground.


    ¡°GWAK!¡± The fairy yelped out as she slammed into a small pile of rocks.


    With an audible crack, the poor fairy broke her neck and slump over. The vacant look of death was in her eyes as she stared lifelessly at her attacker, however Elijah wasn¡¯t fooled as he shook his hand and waited for the damned thing to come back.


    ¡°STATUS!¡± Sutton yelled into his headset. The man¡¯s voice carried across the area, imposing order onto the disarray. Rangers, Marines, and SEALs momentarily stunned by the surreal events, snapped to attention at the command, their training overcoming the shock.


    Meanwhile, a strange pop resounded as the supposed goddess regained her form and darted, full speed at his face with her chompers at the ready. ¡°GRRRR!¡± The Vanir growled as she bit down on Elijah''s hand, once more.


    ¡°All of you alright!?¡± Coleman yelled to the rest of his team, ignoring his struggling medic as he failed in their air doing his best to swipe at his attacker


    Both Bennett and Schwarz just sat there staring at the mind breaking scene unfolding in front of them with a mixture of disbelief and shock as they watched Elijah comedically dance around. This all felt like some kind of weird and twisted joke some weirdo was playing at, but alas, here they were.


    As a matter of fact, the engineer looked down at his hands and then started pinching himself all over at varying strengths to see if he was in some kind of coma, however each time he pinched, the man was left disappointed.


    ¡°Nah, this is some PCP shit.¡± Lister, the team¡¯s weapon sergeant, suddenly spoke up as reared up to his full height. ¡°What the fuck is next? We see some kind of-¡±


    ¡°No, shut the fuck up!¡± Coleman said, bringing a hand up to stop the man. ¡°Not another fucking word, you know damn well ANYTHING is on the table now and your dumb ass is going to manifest it!¡± He snapped, remembering his own words just before he approached this shit show.


    Suddenly the evil cackles of their medic resounded causing everyone to look at him once more. ¡°HAH! GOT YOU!¡± Elijah yelled out, grabbing ahold of the tiny winged demon with a rag he randomly found wrapped around his hand.


    The fairy ignored the man¡¯s every word as she continued to try and bite down, but unfortunately her teeth weren¡¯t long enough to fully penetrate the cloth.


    ¡°Let me go, you-! You thief!¡± She yelled while struggling. ¡°I¡¯m your patron! I¡¯m your goddess! You should obey my every order!!¡±


    Realizing killing her wasn¡¯t going to work, Elijah¡¯s brain went into overdrive trying to find a way to deal with this new pest. ¡°Look, can we talk? Let''s talk.¡± Elijah said, completely at his wits end. ¡°Let¡¯s give peace a chance and talk like rational people, okay?¡±


    Realizing she wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere without her soul magic or any meaningful way to threaten this mortal, the Vanir tilted her head down as she looked up at Elijah while pouting. ¡°Okay fine¡­¡± She said with an upset voice.


    Elijah looked at the team and the rest of the service members around him and noticed they were all keeping their distance. It was their way of saying he was definitely on his own with this and they¡¯d be staying exactly where they were. Away from THAT thing.


    Worry etched the medics face as he sucked in a deep breath. Elijah then exhaled to steady his nerves as he deliberated on what to do, but he knew sooner or later he was going to have to let this thing go. Finally after a few minutes, the man loosened his grip and allowed the fairy hover in place and waited for her inevitable attack.


    ¡­


    Elijah exhaled a deep sigh of relief as the immediate chaos subsided, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his veins. "Alright... can you explain what just- OW, FUCK!" His question was abruptly interrupted by a set of sharp teeth sinking into his hand.


    Elijah''s first attempts at some kind of resolution failed. The small little being had bit down on his hand once more.


    ¡°PEACE WAS NEVER AN OPTION!¡± The fairy continued her assault, her tiny but fierce teeth chomping down relentlessly.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 24

    Yzael was walking down the strange and bright hallway of a heavily guarded healer''s building when her hand subconsciously slid onto her abdomen where she had been wounded.


    By all accounts she should have been dead by such an injury, but the marvels of this magicless world had pulled her back from the brink. The fabric of her tunic, foreign yet adapted from the materials given to her by the local healers, was smooth under her dainty fingers, a stark contrast to the roughness of her battle-worn gear. She paused, her eyes reflecting a turmoil of gratitude and disorientation. This world, so starkly different from her own, and she had thought it to be a crucible of survival, but it seemed more akin to the academies or healing houses of her homeland.


    Glancing back at her escort, a stern yet not unkind soldier that trailed behind her with his strange tiny black staff in a leisure manner. He was one many wardens she would receive, but this man would occasionally strike up a conversation, only to quieten up in frustration after remembering they couldn¡¯t understand each other.


    However, that was slowly starting to change after her many encounters with this world''s scholar. Yzael could now start having simple conversations with everyone that surrounded her and she eroded the language barrier between them with each passing day. It was partly due to the innate natural High Elves to gravitate towards scholarly or magical endeavors, but Yzael herself had always had an ear for languages. It was a necessary skill in her line of work where contracts and alliances were as varied as the realms themselves.


    Yet, the tongues of this world were intricate in a way that was both challenging and frustrating. English, as it was so called, seemed to have so many unnecessary or even contradictory rules that it often felt like trying to decode arcane spells written in the shifting sands of the Wailing Dunes  than anything else. Yzael had discovered that here, context was as crucial as the words themselves, and the nuance in tone could alter the meaning of a phrase entirely.


    ¡°Hey Mike, babysitting again?¡± Suddenly a voice called out from behind her and her escort.


    They both came to a stop and the escort, apparently named Mike shot the newcomer a weary gaze. ¡°Ya, pretty much.¡± He admitted rubbing his eyes. ¡°You know, when Brass said we¡¯d be overseeing a bunch of magicians or something, I figured they¡¯d be all fire and brimstone, trying to escape or hex us. But look at them,¡± he gestured loosely to Yzael and then to the others in the vicinity, ¡°more than content just to cooperate and do whatever they¡¯re told. It¡¯s,¡± he sighed dramatically, ¡°boring.¡±


    Yzael, who had been listening intently, tilted her head in curiosity at the statement. Doing any such thing like causing a fire or trying to escape would just guarantee her death and even though she was a few centuries old, she very much liked living. The long eared woman then cleared her throat, drawing Mike¡¯s attention. ¡°It would not make sense,¡± she began, her English rough but intelligible, ¡°to make trouble. You treat well, I have no path to return...¡± She searched for the right words, ¡°no... no place to go.¡±


    Mike¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his posture straightening as he turned fully to face her. ¡°What the fuck? You speak English?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with a newfound respect and a hint of embarrassment for his earlier words.


    ¡°I am learning,¡± Yzael affirmed with a small smile. ¡°Your world is... different. But fighting, escaping... not always the path of wisdom.¡±


    A quiet lingered in the hallways as Mike turned around and gave the other guard a look that said he didn¡¯t quite believe what he was hearing. ¡°Huh,¡± he finally murmured, almost to himself, ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned.¡±


    The other guard chuckled, shook his head and ducked back into the room he was in, leaving Yzael and her escort to their own devices


    A new found curiosity started to seep into Mike as he scratched his head "Well, that''s... impressive," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Didn''t expect you folks to pick up on things so quick." He glanced down the hallway, as if ensuring they were alone, before leaning in slightly. "So, if you don''t mind me asking, why cooperate? I mean, if I were in your shoes, not sure I''d be so... accommodating."


    Yzael considered the question, understanding the depth of what he was truly asking. "In my land," she began, choosing her words with care, "we have a saying: ''To know the river is to avoid the flood.'' I am not my own realm, and your people hold the¡­ um¡­ What is the word?¡± Yzael furrowed her brow as she wracked her brain. ¡°Power! You people hold the power."


    Mike nodded, the lines on his forehead easing as her words sank in. "Makes sense," he conceded. "So, what''s your plan then? You just gonna wait it out, learn what you can and hope for the best?"


    The blending of the words ¡®going to¡¯ into ¡®gonna¡¯ caught her off guard for a moment, but Yzael''s smile turned wistful, "Another saying, ''Even the smallest seed can one day be the largest tree.'' I will learn, grow, and when the time is right, perhaps I will find my way home. Until then, I will flourish in the soil where I have been planted."


    A derisive chuckle left Mike¡¯s mouth as he adjusted his weapon to a more comfortable location. "You''ve got more patience than me, I reckon," he mused, his gaze drifting off. "If I was thrown into some foreign world, I probably wouldn¡¯t listen so well."


    There was a moment of shared silence before Mike''s curiosity piqued again. "¡±You seem pretty smart, what made you uhh¡­¡± He paused trying to find a more tactful way of asking this. ¡°Why did you come here, to our world I mean?" he asked, his voice dropping to a softer tone, aware that he might be broaching a sensitive subject.


    Yzael stiffened as a grimace started to spread across her face. Anger and disgust welled into her stomach as her eyes dropped to the floor and for a brief moment, she seemed smaller, the weight of those she lost and those she had yet to find fell on her shoulders. "I¡­ No, we were tricked," she admitted, her voice a mere whisper. "They said I would be stopping criminals and bandits, not... invading."


    She has had a similar and much more hostile version of this conversation the other day with men and women who saw her as a threat. It had been a trying ordeal, one that had tested her patience and resolve as they pushed it to the limits to see how she would react.


    But the conversation she had found herself in at this very moment was much more¡­ approachable. The genuine curiosity and willingness to listen gave her a sliver of hope that understanding could be reached. Although she also couldn¡¯t blame the others for their suspicion and their prodding; it was their way, it seemed, of making sense of her and her people''s sudden appearance in their world.


    "I have not been treated with cruelty," Yzaeled clarified to Mike, a note of earnestness in her voice. "There has been no torture, no violation, no stripping away of my dignity or necessities, so I have no reason to um¡­ not listen so well?¡± She said, turning away to walk back to her room.


    Her memory then went back to the interrogations and remembered how the interactions were... grating. They questioned everything, poked and prodded at every piece of logic she had to offer for hours on end. It was absolutely exhausting, especially when her command of the language was still developing.


    As Yzael moved away, the conversation with Mike drawing to its natural close, her mind inevitably drifted back to Gideon. He had been a steadfast presence in her life for years as a comrade in arm in her party, and his absence now left a hollow space within her.


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    Most of her kin would have called her a fool for feeling so strongly about a presence that was only there for a fraction of a fraction of her life, but Yzael came to learn that wasn¡¯t how relationships worked. A person or a being could only be in your life for just a few moments for them to affect you in deep and impactful ways. A lesson her longer lived people haven¡¯t learned due to their insular and near xenophobic ways.


    In the ensuing chaos of their unexpected transition to this world, many that she had known and worked with had either fallen or disappeared. Gideon had been among those who had vanished in the tumultuous battle that had taken place. The memory of the explosion that had nearly claimed her life was as clear as the bright hallway she now walked. Gideon had been the one to pull her from the brink, finding shelter in a decrepit building as the world outside succumbed to madness.


    The hubris of the Sepharic Empire led them there, and in a desperate bid for victory, they had unleashed a horde of weremen. Those specific beastmen were usually held in check by their shamans, but in the Empire''s lust for power, they had intoxicated them through profane rituals sending the beasts to fall into a frenzied state. The beasts raged and howled, attacking friend and foe alike as they descended upon the town that Yzael and Gideon took shelter in.


    She remembered the terror, the acceptance, and then Gideon''s eyes¡­ He had that very same look of determination when he was about to do something foolish. With a promise of salvation he had disappeared up the stairs of the crumbling building and that was the last time she had seen him, before darkness claimed her.


    Next thing Yzael knew was the painful and disorienting white lights that sear into her eyeballs. The cold touch of metal against her skin, the beeping of strange arcane machines, and the feeling of the tube shoved down her throat. They had saved her, yes, but at what cost?


    ¡°Where are you¡­?¡± Yzael whispered to herself as she gazed out of the window, an act she found herself doing as of late. Each and every time, she wondered if he was looking up at the same sun from a different corner of this vast, strange world. The logical part of her mind whispered that he was likely gone, that she should prepare herself for that reality. But the heart, especially one that had beaten for centuries, was not so easily swayed by logic, regardless of what her people would like to say.


    Yzael held onto the hope that Gideon had somehow survived, that he had escaped the horror of their last stand and found safety. Yet, as days turned into weeks, and no word of him reached her ears, that hope began to dim.


    Heaving a sigh, Yzael sped up her pace, eager to return to the solitude of her room and the comfort of her own thoughts. As she turned a corner, however, the sight of Emma and Dr. Stenhouse entering another room she had passed dozens of times over, caught her eye. The scholars had been her bridge to understanding this world and their patience and warmth was a welcome respite from the cold and brutal interrogation rooms.


    "Emma! Dr. Stenhouse!" Yzael called out, speeding up to a jog.


    The two scholars snapped their heads around and welcomed her with the same warm manner to which she had grown accustomed. ¡°Yzael!!¡± the two yelled, opening their arms into a hug.


    As she approached and accepted their odd, but intimate greeting, Yzael looked into the room, her heart leapt into her throat. There, amidst the clinical ambiance, was a familiar face, one marked by a strange black patch over one eye and shorter but equally pointed ears to her own.


    Lysandra.


    Yzael froze, her eyes locked onto her kin. Lysandra had survived. The relief that washed over her was profound, and for a moment, she could do nothing but stare and take  in the sight of her former commander


    Lysandra turned, and their eyes met. A myriad of emotions passed between them both, it was a mixture of relief, sorrow, joy, and the unspoken questions of how they had both come to be here, in this world so far from home..


    "Y¡­ Yzael?" Lysandra''s voice was choked, but the strength in it was undeniable. She stood, cautiously, as if still unsure of her body''s limits in this place.


    Yzael pushed past the scholars and stepped into the room, her previous destination forgotten. "Lysandra, by the heavens, it is you," she whispered, moving closer.


    But the sudden barks from the guards stationed in the room snapped her from the reunion''s trance. "Stop! Stay where you are!" They ordered sharply, their weapons snapping up to a readied position as they assessed the situation.


    Dr. Stenhouse and Emma, realizing the tension escalating in the room, quickly intervened. They moved forward with their hands raised in a calming gesture, positioning themselves between the guards and the two elves.


    "Please, stand down!" Dr. Stenhouse''s voice carried the weight of authority and urgency. "This is a critical moment, a delicate reunion! There''s no threat here!"


    However, the guards were resolute, their training kicking in. They weren¡¯t swayed by Dr. Stenhouse¡¯s plea, their focus solely on maintaining what they perceived to be a secure environment.


    "Stay back!" one guard reiterated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. The other guard, meanwhile, brought his radio to his mouth, clicking the button to communicate with their command center.


    "Command, we have a situation in the east wing, room seventeen. Possible security breach, over," she reported, following the concise and clear-cut manner.


    The response crackled through the radio for all to hear  immediately, "Roger that, maintain your position. Reinforcements are en route. Contain the situation, over."


    Emma moved swiftly, placing herself between the guards and Yzael, her voice raised in a mix of anger and desperation. "Don''t you dare!" she yelled at the soldiers. Her past confrontations with authority had left a sour taste, but none so bitter as this. "She''s not your enemy! She''s not a lab rat for your sick fucking experiments!"


    Mike however, just stood there with his own weapon at the ready. He knew Yzael wasn¡¯t the threat they thought she was after his conversation with her and remained conflicted in what to do. Does he perform his duty, arrest her and resolve this misunderstanding? Or does he interject and try to defuse the situation and risk a court-martial.


    But that all went out the window as Yzael threw up her hands. She felt it just as Lysandra felt it. The two women looked at each other in horror as a violent surge of magic rushed into them both, filling their veins with power she hadn''t felt since arriving in this foreign world. It was overwhelming, like a dam bursting within her soul, the mana starved agony she had suffered was now replaced with an excess she couldn¡¯t even possibly absorb all at once.


    And that¡¯s when realization struck. Yzael¡¯s eyes widened as crackles of bright fluorescent  blue lightning shot from her fingertips, the energy striking the ceiling with a sound like thunder. The room illuminated with an eerie light, causing everyone to shield their eyes and casting shadows that danced wildly against the walls. The soldiers, unprepared for such a display, instinctively snapped their weapons up, firing in order to remove the new found threat, However their bullets ricocheted uselessly off the magical shield Yzael had thrown up just in the nick of time.


    ¡°NO!!!¡± Lysandra screamed, springing into action.


    Still a seasoned Freelancer and hardened warrior, the elven woman used the influx of mana to empower her movements. She was a whirlwind, as she tackled the female soldier, causing her to slam against the wall with a force that left a crack in the plaster. The soldier¡¯s weapon clattered to the ground, sliding across the floor far out of reach.


    The second soldier tried to pivot his weapon toward the new threat, his finger tensing on the trigger. But Lysandra, with reflexes honed over decades, was quicker. She grabbed the barrel of the gun, yanking it downward as the soldier fired, round after round with each bullet digging into the floor in a burst of dust and debris. With a swift, fluid motion, she yanked the weapon from his grasp and swung it like a club, the stock shattering against his head with a crack. The soldier crumpled, stunned and disoriented, trying to do his best to get up, but he was left dazed and vulnerable on the ground.


    The room fell silent for a heartbeat, the only sounds the painful ringing from gunfire in an enclosed space and the labored breaths of soldiers and elves alike. Lysandra, her face a mask of fear and regret, let the broken rifle drop from her hands and started backing up, pressing her back against the wall. She looked at her comrade Yzael, her eyes also wide with the realization of what they had just done.


    It was then that the door burst open, and a flood of heavily armed soldiers poured into the room, their own weapons drawn, pointed directly at the two elves.


    ¡°GET THE FUCK ON THE FLOOR! SHOW ME YOUR GODDAMN HANDS!¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 25

    Toivonen was sitting in the conference room by herself leaning as far back in the office chair as she possibly could. Both of her hands were cupped over her nose and mouth as if physically trying to squeeze the mounting pressure out of her head. Around the wooden table, her staff members sat in varying degrees of unease, their eyes occasionally flicking to the ominously ringing cellphone in the center of the table.


    The phone, a stark reminder of the chaos unfolding just beyond the walls of the conference room, had been ringing incessantly. It lay there, vibrating with yet another call that went unanswered, the screen lit up with a list of missed calls long enough to scroll through.


    A young facility staff member, new enough to not recognize the perilous dance of approaching Toivonen when she was in this state, cleared his throat. "Ma''am, shouldn¡¯t you¡ª"


    However, his words were cut off as quickly as they began.


    Toivonen¡¯s eyes snapped open, fixing the man with a glare that was as sharp as any knife, yet was deceptively calm. Her look had an edge that carried a not-so subtle threat that implied that If he ever considered finishing that sentence, she would assure that his next of kin will be receiving a letter of his sudden and inexplicable death.


    The man immediately clammed up and looked away while the featureless black cellphone continued to buzz with a kind of persistence that seemed to echo the tension in the room. Each of the staff members exchanged uneasy, knowing glances with a mixture of fear and relief that they weren¡¯t the ones in the hot seat.


    The silence in the room deepened, punctuated only by the persistent ringing of the phone. It was a tense, almost oppressive quiet, filled with the unspoken thoughts of the staff members and the palpable stress emanating from Toivonen.


    Finally, as if on cue with the collective anticipation, the phone ceased its clamor. A collective sigh was nearly released, but before it could fully escape their lips, the device sparked back to life, its shrill tone demanding attention once more.


    This time, without a word, Toivonen slowly reached out and grasped the phone. She brought it to her ear with a resigned slowness that betrayed her inner reluctance. "Toivonen," she answered crisply, the single word a clear signal she was prepared to take control of the conversation no matter the tirade that might come.


    "...the fuck is going on over there?!" The voice was loud enough that snippets of the outburst traveled across the room, the anger in the caller''s voice leaving little to the imagination.


    More yelling ensued, a stream of obscenities that painted the air blue. Toivonen listened, resting her elbows on the table as pinched the bridge of her nose. Her leg, however, bounced up and down, causing  her heels to click against the floor in a rhythmic and agitated pattern.


    ¡°No, sir.¡± Toivonen replied, her voice slicing through the tirade with surgical precision. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."


    The room was utterly silent now, save for the one-sided conversation. Each "sir" was like a punctuation mark, signifying Toivonen''s grasp on professionalism despite the storm of profanities lashing from the phone.


    The staff dared not move and their eyes dared not to move towards Toivonen in fear of being dragged into whatever the hell was unfolding before them. They could only imagine the barrage being unleashed upon their stoic superior and the sheer force of the words that necessitated such terse replies.


    "Yes, sir, we''ll-" Toivonen began, but her words were cut short by the abrupt click of the line going dead. She let out a deep sigh, one hand sliding to cover her eyes, the other propping up her head, elbow resting heavily on the table. The room held its breath, the staff members frozen in a tableau of anticipation and dread.


    After a moment that stretched too long, her quiet and subdued voice echoed throughout the room like a bomb. "Prepare for the director''s arrival," she said, causing the entire room to stiffen.


    A senior staff member, a man who''d seen been apart of the most adverse operations in the Middle East and Eastern Europe, let out a low, almost inaudible "Fuck..." It was a word that seemed to resonate with the collective sentiment of the room, a succinct summary of their situation.


    But just as they all stood up to get to work, their own personal devices started to blare off indicating there had been an incident in the interrogation room and all hands were needed.


    -


    Yzael found herself in quite the predicament.


    Darkness engulfed her world as the pitch-black burlap sack over her head cut off any glimpse of her surroundings. But the rough fabric that scratched against her skin wasn''t the only reminder of her¡­ ordeal in Lysandra¡¯s room. Oh no, the ominous sack was accompanied by the gag in her mouth that prevented her from chanting any spells and the tight iron shackles that forced her  hands behind her back to prevent her from gesturing any spells.


    This wasn¡¯t a completely alien experience to her however, as she and another¡­ rather rambunctious student in High Elven Academics. Centuries ago, the two had delved into areas of arcane knowledge that were more frowned upon, if not outright forbidden by the scholars of her people. It was a time of reckless curiosity and thirst for understanding the depths and edges of their magical abilities.


    Yzael''s mind wandered to those days, a mixture of nostalgia and distraction from her current situation. She remembered the secret meetings under the veil of night, the thrill of exploring the uncharted territories of magic and the hectic escapes as staff chased them throughout the school in search of the offenders. The two troublemakers had delved into the more dangerous methods of magic.


    While Yzael herself pursued the forbidden arts of manipulating mana, pushing the boundaries of what was deemed safe or permissible by their elders, her academic colleague chose¡­ other specialties.


    Wracking her brain to remember her name, Yzael could only remember the ambitious red headed woman who was always more daring than prudent, and had a particular fascination with witchcraft. She saw it not as the dark and profane art that many believed it to be, but as an untapped well of potential. Together, they experimented with spells and incantations that were whispered about in hushed tones, the kind that could tap into the very essence of that banished Fae Goddess.


    Oh what fun they had, pushing the limits of their abilities, reveling in the raw power they were able to summon. Their experiments, often teetering on the edge of control, drew them into a world of arcane secrets and mystical discoveries. The red-haired High Elf, whose name still eluded Yzael, was a whirlwind of energy and ambition, always eager to push further, to unravel the next mystery.


    It didn¡¯t take long for them to leave their studies behind and venture out into the world, but their paths eventually diverged as their interests deepened in different directions. Yzael focused more on the refined control of mana, seeking to understand and master its practical application as a Freelancer. Her colleague, on the other hand, delved deeper into the realms of witchcraft and the power that drove the hells, drawn to the wild and untamed aspects of magic, often leaving Yzael both awed and concerned by her daring.


    Now, in the darkness of her captivity, Yzael found herself drawing upon those memories, those experiences from a past long gone. The knowledge she had gained during those heady days of forbidden study might be her only key to escape. Without the ability to chant or gesture, she would have to rely on the more subtle, intrinsic aspects of her magic.


    After the unfortunate events that may or may have not led to the death of two human warriors, her own demise seemed more and more likely as time went on. Yzael focused on her breathing, calming her racing heart, channeling her thoughts inward. She sought to tap into the raw, untamed mana that she had once toyed with, the kind that now coursed through this world that seemingly flooded in from heaven¡¯s knows where. It was a dangerous game, one that required immense concentration and control ¨C especially without the usual outlets of spoken words and hand movements.


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    Channeling her focus, Yzael began to work on her escape and started the slow and meticulous process of drawing upon the mana around her. A rather difficult task under the current states, but energy started to course through her, a familiar sensation that reignited a sense of hope as long as she maintained control


    Gradually, she directed the mana towards the burlap sack over her head. She felt the energy accumulating, concentrating on a small point. Then, with a mental push, she released it in a controlled burst. The fabric singed and smoldered, creating a tiny hole. The faint light that filtered through was a welcome sight, a small victory in her dire situation.


    Peering through the hole, Yzael surveyed her surroundings and her eyes shone in recognition. She was in the very same gray and featureless room that they interrogated her in. Her  eyes turned to see the large mirror that stretched across on one side and knew it was a two-way. Her own people used to observe students, which meant she was probably being observed.


    Realizing she had to take a risk, Yzael decided to act. She needed more visibility to work on her shackles, which meant removing the sack entirely. Bracing herself, she focused her mana once more, directing it towards the burlap fabric.


    With a subtle manipulation of her energy, she increased the intensity of the burn, and soon enough, the fabric began to smolder until it burned away. Yzael shook her head free from the still burning sack as a few strands of her silver hair singed away in the process, but she cared little as she sat up and blinked against the sudden influx of light.


    Standing up cautiously, Yzael scanned the room. The mirror was silent, no sound or movement indicating the presence of observers. After a tense moment of waiting and listening, nothing happened. It seemed, for the moment, that she was alone.


    A small, triumphant smile crossed her lips. "Wonderful," she whispered to herself, a mix of relief and satisfaction in her voice. It was a small victory, but in her current situation, any victory mattered. ¡°Perhaps they¡¯ve gone to lunch¡­¡±


    Now, she turned her attention to these strange and intricate shakes that bound her wrists. They were a far cry from the simple iron bands with a chain link that was used to in her world that she could just rip apart with a spell, instead these were intricate, with a locking mechanism that seemed to require a key. Yzael knew that physically breaking them would be nearly impossible without hurting herself, so she had to commit to sitting down and figuring out how to manipulate the lock with her limited magical abilities.


    She carefully sat down, positioning herself so she could better access the handcuffs. Closing her eyes, Yzael focused her mana, directing it toward the tiny mechanism. She had to be precise and the slightest mistake could set her back or, worse, trigger a mechanism that would tighten the cuffs.


    Yzael visualized the inner workings of the handcuffs as her senses extended to the mana that she was manipulating and felt the pins and tumblers inside. She gently tapped and nudged away, trying to feel for any subtle movements within, but her eyes shot open when the thing clicked. All she did was apply pressure to the mechanism holding onto the teeth and felt it click a little looser.


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± The elf mage murmured to herself as she did it again and felt one hand come free from the restraint. Yzael stared at her now-free hand in a mix of disbelief and relief. ¡°That was¡­ simple¡­¡± She said to herself as she stood up and cautiously tried to open the door. Her instincts told her that it would be locked, and a quick test of the handle had confirmed her suspicion.


    With one hand now free, Yzael felt around and studied the door and its locking mechanisms. The mechanical nature of the locks were unfamiliar to her and had more in common with what goblins or to a lesser extent, in her realm. But even then, she was unfamiliar with those types of doors and was more used to those reinforced with enchantments or ones with a traditional latch that required a rudimentary key. This modern door, with its deadbolt and sophisticated locking system, was a new puzzle for her to solve.


    A puzzle she didn¡¯t have time for, though.


    Extending her free hand, Yzael focused her mana on the lock and with a subtle gesture, she applied a shearing force, causing a loud snap to resound before the deadbolt and the locking mechanism gave way. The door then drifting open, the elf cautiously poked her head out and peered out. She kept one hand forward, prepared to cast a barrier spell just in case one of those guards decided to end her little foray.


    But to her surprise, the hallway was completely empty. The usual hustle and bustle of the facility¡¯s guards and staff gave way to an eerie emptiness. The strange quiet added a new layer of danger and unease to her situation and as Yzael stepped out into the hallway, she maintained her heightened senses in an effort to make  sure she wasn¡¯t going to run into any surprises.


    With twitching ears listening for the faintest noise, Yzael kept her head on a swivel as the thoughts of her stepping into a trap entered her mind. But at the same time, shouldn¡¯t quite accept that people that were as logical and meticulous as her own would do something so¡­ contrived.


    If they really wanted to end her, they would have done it when they first captured her or gagged and bound her in the interrogation room¡­ ¡°No, there must be something else at play¡­.¡± She murmured to herself with her hand outstretched as she peered around another corner. ¡±Maybe something had happened that caused an evacuation?¡±


    The thought lingered in Yzael''s mind as she navigated the corridors. Her elven instincts told her that something significant must have occurred to cause such a drastic change in the facility''s usual rhythm. An evacuation, a lockdown, a security breach or maybe a renewed attack¡­


    There were numerous possibilities, and none of them offered any real comfort.


    As she ventured deeper, her focus abruptly snapped back to the present as the faint sounds of shouting and a scuffle further down the halls broke the eerie silence. Nevertheless the noise spurred Yzael into action as she threw caution to the wind and took off running. Her heart raced with the mixture of fear and dread, hoping to the heavens that Lysandra wasn¡¯t the epicenter of this conflict and was in mortal danger. After Gideon''s disappearance, she wouldn¡¯t be able to handle the loss of another ally. Not here, not under these circumstances.


    Ignoring the cold tile floor on her bare feet, Yzael ran through the corridors, closing in on the scuffle when she finally noticed the presence of a peculiar and powerful energy that permeated the air. It was a familiar arcane presence that felt¡­ ancient and it reminded her of the forbidden arts that she had once explored in secret.


    Yzael¡¯s sense screamed at her to turn away and run back to that tiny room she had  crawled out of, but her curiosity got the better of her as she peered around the corner. There she saw a horde of those soldiers, clad in garments of blotched and irregular patterns that would blend in with foliage, stood in organized columns. Their uniforms however, were slightly different and much more armored with large shields raised in front of them, creating a formidable wall.


    Most interesting however, were the unusual face coverings adorning the soldiers'' faces. These masks were a curious blend of function and intimidation and featured large, transparent lenses that sat prominently where the eyes went, giving the soldiers a wide, unobstructed field of vision. But the most striking feature of these masks was the prominent filter that protruded from the front, resembling a snout, giving them the visages some kind of mythical beast.


    ¡°MA¡¯AM WE DON¡¯T WANT TO HURT YOU! PLEASE WALK OUT-¡±  The leading soldier yelled before looking behind him at another individual that held no armor at all and that just stood around with an annoyed look. ¡°FLOAT OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!¡±


    ¡°Bro, shes going to fuck all y¡¯all up.¡± The unarmed and unarmored soldier warned his compatriots with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve killed this fucking menace probably 10 times. What the hell do you even think you¡¯re going to do?¡±


    Yzael''s interest was piqued by the unfolding scene, her head peeking cautiously around the corner. The casual mention of killing someone multiple times puzzled her. In her realm, death was final, and the concept of multiple deaths for the same person was only reserved for the gods.


    Did this man mean it in a figure of speech? Was he just exaggerating? Or was this a hint at something more sinister, perhaps some kind of magic or technology far beyond her understanding?


    However, her thoughts were interrupted when a loud thoomp resounded as one of the soldiers shot a strange canister into the room they seemed guarded against. The canister hissed as it released a thick, billowing smoke that quickly filled the interior. This was immediately followed up by an order to ¡®go¡¯, causing the stacked soldiers to flood into the room with their strange staffs, shields and club-like weapons.


    Yzael instinctively recoiled, pulling her head back as the canister discharged its contents. She was familiar with the tactics of using smoke or gas to disorient or flushing out more entrenched foes. She had used similar methods when trying to flush out kobolds and scroungers.


    Tucked away in the corner, Yzael debated her next move. It was unlikely they were subduing Lysandra, considering one of them had evidently ¡®killed¡¯ whoever was in the room¡­ But the strange tinge of arcane energy in the air made her overly curious as to who they were trying to subdue¡­


    Shaking her head, Yzael turned around to continue her search for her commander. Her primary concern was Lysandra''s safety, and the faster she found the good commander, the faster they¡¯d get out of here.


    But just as she was about to turn away, the sounds of pain and yelling reverberated through the halls, drawing her attention back to the scene. Yzael cautiously peeked around the corner again to see a chaotic retreat of soldiers stumbling over themselves.


    The soldiers who had confidently entered the room moments ago were now scrambling to get out. Their gear was in disarray, ripped and torn, and they were covered in an assortment of light magical wounds. Burns, frost marks, and electrical scorching indicated they had been on the receiving end of a powerful and varied arcane onslaught.


    ¡°Tried to tell you.¡± The unarmed soldier said, with squinted eyes, fanning his face as the smoke leaked out.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 26

    ¡°Apostle!¡± The little fairy snapped angrily as it buzzed out of the interrogation room. ¡°How could you just¡­! Just stand there and allow these stupid¡­ STUPIDS, treat me in such a manner!?¡± She yelled and pointed an accusatory finger at her claimed human.


    Elijah however, just stood there unimpressed while the military police donning riot gear flailed around helplessly trying to put out the strange fire or swat away at the ice spreading on their person. ¡°Can you put them out please?¡± He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Things are gonna get really complicated for me if any of them actually get hurt or die.¡±


    However, the great Yanaiy¨¢niuoa face just contorted more angrily. ¡°Those idiots insulted me with their stupid questions! I¡¯m a goddess! A real goddess! Not one of those stupid pretenders that need mortals to keep praying to them!¡± She barked with shrill indignation. ¡°They should be bowing, worshiping and offering tributes, not daring to question my divine presence!¡±


    A hollow and empty look of resignation was spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he just stared at the tiny goddess with a blank look. The entire day had been the epitome of a horrible drug fueled hallucinogenic trip. One he couldn¡¯t wake up from.


    ¡°Okay look, Yana,¡± Elijah sighed. ¡°You need-¡±


    ¡°YANA! ?¡± The goddess bellowed angrily with her eyes flaring with violet fire as she hovered before Elijah, her tiny form radiating a fierce energy that belied her size. "How dare you! Do you not understand the disrespect you show to my divine being with such casual familiarity!?"


    Elijah, however, remained unfazed by the outburst as he stared at her with a level gaze. "Look," he sighed, placing his hand to his head to dispel his headache. "By your own admission, you¡¯ve lost basically all of your power. ¡± Elijah continued as agitation started to swell inside him. ¡°And somehow, you¡¯ve managed to drag me into whatever bullshit¡­ this is!¡± The man then gestured around him as the soldiers in the hallway continued to struggle with the aftermath of the little goddess¡¯ display of power. They were frantically slapping at small patches of fire that kept springing up onto their equipment and brushing off chunks of ice that had formed on their armor.


    But worst of all, the hallway beyond was a scene of destruction, marred with scorch marks, pockmarked with bullet holes, and smashed by concussive forces.


    ¡°So we!¡± Elijah gestured aggressively to himself and Yana, ¡°and I actually mean WE, are not exactly in a position to demand anything right now! So can you PLEASE stop doing whatever it is you¡¯re doing to them?¡±


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa continued to hover in front of Elijah¡¯s face with her arm¡¯s fold and a snarl on her face. "Hmph," she huffed, turning her head away in a haughty fashion, but with a flick of her hand, she gestured towards the soldiers, and dispelled the creeping elements that plagued the poor souls. ¡°Annoying! I have the most annoying mortal ever!¡±


    As her magic unraveled, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa continued to grumble. "And this stupid world! Why don¡¯t my curses and soul magic work on any of you!?" she complained, her voice a mix of frustration and bewilderment. "It''s stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"


    ¡°Fuck off before she changes her mind.¡± Elijah said to the soldiers as he watched the chaos from the fairy¡¯s magic subside. ¡°And tell the spooks to stop sending fucking MP¡¯s down here! Nothing you¡¯re gonna do is gonna work!¡± He pointed to the section leader with his entire hand. ¡°Just let me talk to her, okay?¡±


    The MPs, still regaining their composure, turned to Elijah with a mixture of relief and apprehension. The Captain of the section was a veteran, accustomed to high-stress situations for a multitude of theaters, but here, he was clearly out of his depth in this supernatural scenario, and gave a firm nod in acknowledgment.


    "Understood¡­" the Captain replied, his tone indicating both his reluctance to leave the situation  unresolved and his desire to avoid further confrontation with this¡­ fairy. "This shit is way above our pay grade anyways."


    Elijah exhaled deeply, maintaining his composure as the soldiers slowly regrouped and started to retreat while glancing at the fairy with a mix of disbelief and unease. And as the last of them disappeared around the corner, Elijah turned to face Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, who was still hovering with folded arms and an indignant expression. "Yana," he began, his voice calm but firm, "we really need to work together on this. I know it''s frustrating to not be worshiped or whatever anymore, but causing a scene like this isn''t helping our situation."


    The little goddess¡¯ eye twitched at the casual shortening of her name as she continued to glare daggers at her human. ¡°You are the WORST apostle, ever.¡± She hissed. ¡°I give you the gift of my divine blessings and authority and this is how you treat me!?¡±


    ¡°Gift?¡± Elijah raised an eyebrow, matching his patron¡¯s heated gaze with an annoyed one. ¡°Yana, this is a gift I neither ask for, NOR wanted,¡± he replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice and a roll of his eyes.


    "You!!!¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa arms shot to the side in anger. ¡±You ungrateful little human!" She exclaimed in outrage. "You should be honored to merely be in the presence of someone as great as me!"


    As the two bickered, Yzael continued to watch the scene unfold from her vantage point with a face clouded in disbelief and fascination. The fairy just down the hall was an supposed all-powerful being straight out of ancient tomes and lore that had been spoken from scholars in an effort to scare students away from that brand of magic.


    But here Yzael was, staring at Yanaiy¨¢niuoa. An entity that predated even the most ancient records of High Elven society. To see the goddess, albeit diminutive and currently engaged in a petty squabble, was nothing short of astonishing.


    While Yzael was absorbing the fact she was staring at a living breathing deity squabble with some mortal, the elf decided to enhance her perception and see if she could glean anything interesting. "S¨²l? N¨ªra,"she silently whispered an incantation in her native tongue under her breath. This enchantment, also known as the ¡®Eye of the Star¡¯ in common, would amplify her vision and allow her to see the subtle flow of magical energies that may be invisible to the naked eye. As the spell took effect, her eyes shimmered momentarily, and the world around her gained an additional layer of depth.


    And with that, any lingering doubt was suddenly dispelled. The mana in the air, the residual energies from the fairies outburst, took on the ancient profiles of the same magics she studied in secret.


    Meanwhile, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, in her tirade against Elijah, proclaimed, "You''re such a stupid, stupid head! So stupid that you don''t even realize the grandeur of being blessed by me!¡± She thrust her finger at her human one more time. ¡°You¡¯re such a stupid, you don''t even realize you¡¯re standing in front of a goddess, and you treat my gift like it''s stupid, like you-"


    Abruptly, her rant was cut short. Feeling a faint flow of magic, the little goddess immediately snapped her head in Yzael''s direction and narrowed her. The subtle spell was meant to be undetectable, but somehow¡­ it caught the attention of The Great Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s divine senses, despite her diminished power.


    Fear coursed through Yzael as she immediately ducked away.


    She had been noticed¡­.


    Reacting immediately, she made for her retreat and spun around to make a run for it, but¡­ Just in front of her was The Great Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, her tiny form radiating a powerful presence that belied her size. The fairy goddess floated gracefully in front of Yzael, mere inches away from her face, with a smug smile playing on her lips. The goddess¡¯ glowing violet eyes inspected Yzael up and down, taking in every detail with a sharp and discerning gaze.


    Yana''s expression shifted from smugness to a more contemplative one as she observed Yzael. "My, my," she began, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and a hint of respect. "The children of my former worshippers have come a long way." Her eyes focused on the elf, detecting the potent and finely tuned mana that coursed through Yzael. It was clear to her that despite being locked away along with those she deemed traitors, the descendants of her followers had not been idle.


    "It seems that after locking me away, your kin and those other traitors haven''t been resting on your laurels too much," Yanaiy¨¢niuoa commented playfully. Her gaze lingered on Yzael, as if seeing through her, recognizing the depth of her power and the legacy it represented.


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    Caught off guard by this sudden face-to-face encounter with a being of legend, Yzael struggled to find her voice. She was aware of the weight of history that hung between the shared past of her people and this ancient goddess. But that seemed to matter little at the moment. All that she could think of was just how absolutely fucked she was in this currrent moment.


    Gathering as little courage as she could, Yzael opened her mouth in an attempt to save her own soul. "Oh G-Great Y-Yanaiy¨¢niuoa,¡± she stuttered with wide eyes. ¡°I-I am Yzael of the High Elves, j-just a simple arcane user detached from those who plotted against you!" Her words were careful, respectful, and tinged with a healthy dose of fear.


    Yzael''s heart raced as she spoke, knowing full well the volatility of the deity before her. "Your recognition of our progress, while it is an honor, it''s also... quite overwhelming," she added, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa observed Yzael''s reactions, her smug smile turning into an amused grin. "Overwhelmed? Oh, you should be!" The goddess said gleefully as she twirled around playfully. Her violet eyes seemed to glow brighter as she floated closer, inspecting Yzael with a curiosity that felt almost invasive. "A simple arcane user, you say? Detached from the old conflicts? How quaint."


    Before Yzael could open her mouth and respond, Elijah''s voice suddenly echoed from behind her. "Yana! What the hell are you doing, and where the hell did you go?" His tone was a mix of confusion and frustration. ¡°Wait, how did I even know where to find you?"


    However, before Yzael could turn towards the sound, the little goddess reached out and touched her face. A flash of violet light enveloped the area, and Yzael felt an overwhelming surge of energy penetrate into her mind and soul. Her vision blurred, and she collapsed to the floor, barely managing to prop herself up with her hands while her pupils glowed with a violet luminescence.


    Still floating above her, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa wore a contemplative expression, seemingly ignoring Elijah''s questions. "Hmm, why couldn''t I gain complete control over her?" she mused aloud, seemingly more preoccupied with this new puzzle than with Elijah''s presence.


    Elijah, utterly baffled, demanded, "Yana, what the hell just happened?¡± He demanded rubbing his eyes from the bright flash before furrowing his brow.


    But Yana seemed lost in thought, floating in circles before she screamed in realization . "AHHH!! THIS HUMAN! THIS WORLD! THEY TOOK ALL OF IT!!!" she concluded, her face shifting from contemplative to horror. Suddenly, she bolted to Elijah and started to beat on his forehead with her tiny fists. "Stupid, stupid, stupid human! Your stupid world! It''s all your stupid fault!" She shouted in a shrill voice, as her tiny fists hardly made any impact.


    ¡°Can you¡­!¡± Elijah grimaced and swatted at the fairy. ¡°Can you fuckin¡¯ stop!¡±


    In the aftermath of the soul and mind control spell, Yzael found herself struggling to cling to the fringes of her consciousness. The ancient energies that Yanaiy¨¢niuoa had unleashed swirled chaotically within her, threatening to pull her deeper into a disorienting maze. Yet, grounded by the need to save her friend, Yzael held on to the small fragment of awareness amidst the turmoil.


    The poor elf could do nothing but stay focused on grounding herself while the voices of the goddess and that unknown human continued to echo around her. She couldn¡¯t comprehend what exactly they were bickering about, but the tone and intensity of their argument suggested a deep frustration, perhaps even a history between them.


    ¡°Ugh! You¡¯re impossible!!¡± The fairy lamented dramatically. ¡°Of all the mortals that could exist, I had to end up with the most stubborn, annoying buffoon!¡±


    Elijah, seemingly already used to such outbursts, responded in exasperation. "Excuse you. You have no one to blame but yourself for this.."


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa growled as she floated around Elijah in a huff, her tiny form casting flickering shadows in the bright corridor. "If I had half the mind, I¡¯d be done with it and incinerate you where you stood!¡± She barks, jabbing another finger. ¡°But I''ve foolishly invested too much into you already!¡±


    ¡°Does this empty vessel have any idea how much energy it takes to bind an apostle!?¡± She yelled, bonking him on the head with her tiny fists. ¡°Let alone one from another plane of reality!? I can''t just outright kill you and find another!! That would be such a waste!"


    Suddenly, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s demeanor changed dramatically. Her eyes widened, and she clutched her head, letting out a shrill scream of mental anguish. "GAHHHH! THAT''S RIGHT!!! This is another world!" she yelled in remembrance of her own folly. "Oh all the stupid things I could bind!" Yanaiy¨¢niuoa wailed. "A stupid human from a stupid reality that doesn''t even acknowledge my existence!¡±


    As the fairy''s outburst resonated in the corridor, Elijah just stood there with his arms crossed with an expression that said he was the very visage of exasperation. ¡°You literally did this to yourself,¡± Elijah began, his voice tinged with sarcasm.


    But before he could further elaborate on his point, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa cut him off with a sharp and loud "Shut up!" and smacked him on the head once more with her tiny fist before turning her attention back to the high elf who was still shaking like a leaf on the floor. The poor girl¡¯s face was a mixture of horror and pain as Yanaiy¨¢niuoa scrutinized her with a calculating gaze.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­.¡± The fairy hummed in a moment of contemplation, before clapping her hands together. "I have decided," she announced with a flourish. "You shall be my servant!"


    Elijah, perplexed by this sudden turn of events, interjected with a confused and incredulous expression. ".... but why...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he tried to make sense of the goddess''s whimsical decision.


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa turned sharply to Elijah, her eyes flaring with annoyance. "I said shut up! Apostles are meant to be seen, not heard!" she retorted with a tone that brooked no argument.


    ¡°What the fuck am I? A battered housewife?¡± Elijah muttered under his breath before glancing at Yzael. ¡°Ya well, you can¡¯t have her.¡± He said matter of factly swatting the fairy out of the air. ¡°She''s a prisoner of war or¡­ spook science experiment or some shit.¡±


    The fairy recoiled from Elijah''s swatting, but quickly fluttered back into the air with an expression of pure outrage. Her tiny face twisted into a scowl, her glowing violet eyes flared with a mix of anger and disbelief. For a moment, she was seemingly at a loss for words from such transgressions, before she finally burst out.


    "You...!" she began, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "You are the rudest, most insufferable human I have ever encountered!" Her tiny hands balled into fists, shaking with indignation. "Rude! Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude!" she repeated, each word punctuated by a point towards Elijah.


    Elijah simply rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the elf, who was still visibly shaken and disoriented from the fairy''s spell. He carefully grabbed her arm and lifted her up and nearly balked at how compliant she was for being incapacitated. The elf¡¯s response was almost robotic, lacking the typical resistance one would expect from someone suddenly hoisted to their feet.


    ¡°.... Huh¡­¡± Elijah remarked to himself in wonder while his patron continued to yell at him.


    As he observed the elf¡¯s terrified, yet vacant expression he gently guided, and moved her around the hall in an experimental fashion with an eerie, automated compliance. "It''s like she''s a robot... or something¡­ " Elijah said, scratching his beard.


    With an expression of a blend of concern and suspicion, Elijah''s gaze shifted to Yana "What did you do to her?" he asked the fairy, his tone slightly serious now. "It¡¯s not permanent is it? They¡¯re going to be pissed if it''s permanent.¡± He said continuing to move the elf around. ¡°She''s just... following along."


    Still fluttering in the air,Yanaiy¨¢niuoa watched the interaction with a mix of irritation and curiosity. She sighed dramatically, her tiny hands on her hips. "I dominated her soul," she declared with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But apparently, I didn''t have enough power to do it properly, so she''s stuck in this limbo state. Not quite here, not quite... wherever." The fairy threw her hand over her shoulder in an aloof manner.


    Her glowing violet eyes then fixed on Elijah, her expression turning from annoyance to outright disdain. "But that¡¯s not the problem right now!" she pointed at him accusingly. "You are the problem! You''re a terrible apostle! How am I supposed to regain my powers with someone like you!?"


    Elijah, who was still experimentally moving Yzael around, stopped and looked at his supposed ¡®goddess¡¯ with a raised eyebrow. "Me? I didn''t ask for any of this, remember? You''re the one who decided to ''bless'' me, or whatever," he retorted in an uncaring and monotone fashion. ¡°I¡¯m the property of the US of A, you¡¯re gonna have to negotiate with them first.¡±


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa stared blankly at Elijah in absolute and utter confusion. "Negotiate? With... the what of what what?" she sputtered, her voice rising in pitch. ¡°What do you mean I have to negotiate with someone? I claimed you!" She floated energetically around Elijah, her arms flailing as if she were shuffling invisible objects in the air to emphasize her point. "The entire point of claiming someone who hasn''t been claimed is to be able to claim them and have them be yours!"


    A mix of sadistic amusement started to spread on Elijah¡¯s face as he watched her animated display. He knew for a fact the coming shit show between him and command was going to be BIBLICAL and he¡¯d be getting front row seats. "Yeah, well, that''s not how it works here. You can''t just go around claiming people willy-nilly, especially not when they''re already under the jurisdiction of a government like mine."


    Yzael, still in a daze, continued to stand limply, her eyes unfocused and distant, a bystander to the bizarre exchange unfolding before her.


    ¡°This is¡­!¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa huffed, her tiny hands on her hips as she floated back to face Elijah. "This is preposterous! I am a goddess! I do not negotiate! Especially not with mortals!" Her voice was filled with indignant outrage, her eyes blazing with the same violet light that had overwhelmed Yzael. ¡°I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO WHOEVER''S IN CHARGE! TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER!¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 27

    Every single shred of professional decorum had indeed left Toivonen''s body. She sat there, head in her hands, struggling to process the surreal scene unfolding before her eyes. There, amid a high-security CIA facility, was her boss ¨C the Director of the CIA himself, Mich O''Reilly ¨C in a heated argument with a diminutive supernatural fairy.


    "What do you mean I can¡¯t own MY human!? He¡¯s mine!" Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s voice, shrill and filled with indignation, cut through the room.


    However, the Director glanced over towards his colleague from the State Department, an African American woman, by the name of Lisette Ford, who had been swiftly brought in to address this extraordinary, yet unexpected situation. She stepped forward with a demeanor that exuded experience and gravitas, ready to tackle the diplomatic challenge.


    "Madam... Yanai... Yanaiy¨¢...," the diplomat started, fumbling slightly over the pronunciation of the fairy''s complex name.


    "Just call her Yana," Elijah interjected casually.


    "Yanaiy¨¢niuoa!" the fairy barked at him sharply, clearly irritated by his casual address. However, her newly found apostle simply rolled his eyes in response.


    The diplomat, trying to regain her composure, continued, "Madam, I must explain that in our world, the concept of owning another person, especially a citizen, is not only legally unacceptable but also morally reprehensible. It''s a fundamental violation of human rights."


    She paused to let her words sink in before adding, "This is particularly true in the case of specialized military personnel like Mr. Drake here.¡± She looked towards Elijah who just sat there with an expression that said he was just done with the day already. ¡±They are protected by laws specific to their service and status. Owning or claiming ownership over them is not only illegal but also a matter of national security concern."


    Lisette maintained a respectful tone, aiming to bridge the gap between their vastly different worlds and cultures. "It''s imperative that we find a solution that respects both our laws and your unique circumstances. This requires understanding and cooperation from all parties involved."


    O''Reilly nodded in agreement, while Yanaiy¨¢niuoa appeared to be in deep thought, possibly weighing the diplomat''s words against her own understanding and expectations. The room held a tense silence as everyone awaited her response, hoping for a resolution to this unprecedented dilemma.


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid.¡± The fairy then said as her wings fluttered in the air in agitation. "He¡¯s my apostle, so belongs to me!"


    Elijah let out a sigh as he rubbed his temples, when the argument came full circle to where they started. ¡°Yana¡­ shouldn¡¯t you at least stop doing whatever it is you¡¯re doing to that Elf?¡± He groaned, looking up at her with tired eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been hours.¡±


    As the words echoed in the tense conference room, the little goddess snapped towards her human and opened her mouth to give him another verbal lashing, but paused just before a word came out. Her eyes flicked towards Yzael, and with an annoyed click of her tongue, she gestured towards the Elf and unraveled the spell that had ensnared Yzael''s mind.


    Yzael''s reaction was immediate and visceral. She jolted as if waking from a deep, disorienting dream as her eyes widened in horror. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, trying to piece together her surroundings, and found she was in a strange room filled with an air of cautious vigilance. Soldiers lined the walls behind them with fear and determination as they held their weapons securely but not aggressively. Then her vision fell upon the strangers at the table other than Toivonen, the woman who Yzael thought was in charge.


    A thought that turned out to be wrong considering her posture and the two authoritative figures standing before her.


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, floating above the table, glowered at Elijah. "There, happy now!?" she barked before turning her head to Yzael ¡°I¡¯ll deal with YOU later!¡±


    Still reeling from the aftermath of the soul control spell, Yzael could only nod weakly at the monstrous being and stay quiet as a strange negotiation took place. She instantly came to the conclusion that she was in an extremely precarious situation and the best course of action would just be to shut up and sit very still.


    Just meld into her seat and hoped they¡¯d forget she existed.


    ¡°She wants the Elf too.¡± Elijah casually blurted out, pointing a thumb toward Yzael.


    Who in turn, stiffened like a board.


    The Director, a man clearly accustomed to dealing with high-stakes and unusual circumstances, addressed Yanaiy¨¢niuoa with diplomatic tact, albeit frustrated. "Madam... ''goddess''," he began, deliberately avoiding her name due to its complexity, "you can''t simply declare people to belong to you. It''s not how things work here."


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s response was as swift as it was sharp. She scanned the room with a theatrical sweep of her gaze, her expression of mock surprise. "Oh? Why not? Is there another goddess here? I don''t see another goddess," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Would you like to point me toward said deity?¡±


    The small goddess'' incomprehension of the human perspective was evident as she floated, and her aura radiated a sense of ancient authority that contrasted sharply with the modern, regulated environment of the conference room. "What is so difficult to understand?" she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I am a deity, a true deity, not like those idiots who play at being gods and goddesses, leeching off systems that were never built for them. Claiming a mortal''s soul is as natural for us as it is for mortals to claim food for nourishment."


    ¡°Think for a moment!¡± The fairy pointed at her head with both hands ¡°How many times have you idiots tried to kill me! Did you dummies think I¡¯m subject to your laws or¡­ what did they call it?¡± She looked to her apostle.


    ¡°Human rights.¡± Elijah sighed.


    ¡°Ya, that! Did you think I was subject to your ¡®human rights¡¯ or whatever nonsense you came up with!?¡± She shouted in frustration.


    A tense silence reigned as the atmosphere in the room began to shift when this diplomatic venture started to break down. The fairy was right. They had tried everything under the sun to kill her other than dropping a nuke on her, and every time she¡¯d come back. She was, for all intensive purposes, immortal.


    While everyone racked their brains to try and find a solution to this colossal problem, Toivonen had finally decided to speak up with a voice tinged with fatigue and sharp insight. "That''s stupid," she said plainly, lifting her head from her hands and looking directly at Yanaiy¨¢niuoa. "You can''t even get your own ''apostle'' to listen to you, and you''ve been throwing a temper tantrum ever since you got here."


    The room fell into a deeper silence, as Toivonen''s blunt observation hit a nerve. Her straightforwardness contrasted sharply with the diplomatic efforts that had been spiraling in circles.


    ¡°You also think we haven¡¯t seen your middling results with poor Yzael over here?¡± Toivonen gestured at the Elf as she jumped in her own skin. ¡°Your attempts to exert any kind of control here has been lukewarm at best.¡±


    Taken aback by Toivonen''s directness, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa floated there while her wings fluttered in agitation. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. Instead, she looked at Elijah, as if seeking some form of support or rebuttal.


    Elijah, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression, simply looked at Yanaiy¨¢niuoa and said, "She''s got a point. She kinda got you there." He said in an off handed matter-of-fact tone.


    ¡°Traitor!¡± She hissed, using her magic to levitate a pen cap and threw it at his face. ¡°Who¡¯s side are you on!?


    Caught off guard by the sudden attack, winced as the cap struck him in the eye. "God fucking damnit!" he cursed, rubbing his eye with one hand. He glared at the diminutive goddess with quickly waning patience. "The one who actually pays me, you tiny winged cunt!"


    The room fell silent besides the desperately contained chortles from the soldiers in the background.


    Lisette, attempting to regain control of the meeting, cleared his throat. "Alright, let''s try to keep this civil," he said, his voice commanding authority. "We''re here to find a solution, not to escalate tensions further."


    The Director, O''Reilly, nodded in agreement with Lisette. "Yes, we need to find a practical way forward," he added, addressing the goddess directly. "Our goal is to work out an arrangement that respects your... uniqueness, while also adhering to our laws and norms."


    ¡°We should probably define what she means by ¡®own¡¯ or ¡®claim¡¯ and not immediately jump to slavery.¡± Toivonen interjected, tiredly gesturing towards the goddess as she turned her eyes to her superior. ¡°It''s evident we''re operating on two completely different levels of understanding, so I believe some clarification is in order," she continued, addressing the room pragmatically.


    Another bout of silence ensued as the Director and Lisette looked at each other.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ quite fair.¡± O''Reilly tentatively agreed as he gestured towards the Diplomat. ¡°Lisette? Thoughts?¡±


    Taking a moment to carefully choose her words, Lisette paused before addressing Yanaiy¨¢niuoa. "Madam, when you speak of ''claiming'' or ''owning'' a soul, could you elaborate on what exactly this entails in your context? It''s crucial we understand your perspective fully," she asked diplomatically.


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa looked at Lisette, her expression of mild incredulity as if surprised by the lack of understanding. "What? When I claim a soul, it''s not mere possession like your stupid writing implement over there.¡± She waves her hand towards a pen in a dramatic fashion. ¡°It''s about becoming the arbiter of their fate. They become representatives of my authority, extensions of my will and power. It''s an honor bestowed upon them, granting them a portion of my divine strength," she explained, her voice carrying the weight of ancient tradition.


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    ¡°And since this one has yet to be claimed, I claimed him!¡± She said, flying over to Elijah and sitting on his head. The man didn¡¯t even have the energy to struggle or swat her off as he stared uncaringly at the far-end wall wishing to be anywhere but here.


    Then the goddess gestured vaguely towards Yzael while putting one leg over the other. ¡°And that one, too.¡± She declared as one leg bounced on top of the other. ¡°No other god is going to want her anyways because she''s using my little brand of magic.¡±


    The room''s atmosphere shifted palpably as Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s declaration settled in the air. Her nonchalant claim over Yzael, based on the High Elf''s use of her magic, added a layer of complexity to the already tense negotiations.


    Caught in the spotlight, Yzael''s mind raced. Her use of Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s magic was seen as a particular brand of heresy that got one prisoned, killed or worse, crippled if authorities of any faith caught wind of use. Her body posture shifted and her hands nervously slid to the side as if to make an escape as every pair of eyes seemed to drill holes in her forehead.


    But her worry seemed to be in vain as the conversation simply shifted as if no one had the slightest care in the world about her use of the heretical magic.


    The Director, humming with interest. ¡°So this is something like knighthood and vassalage¡­¡± He said aloud, rubbing his clean shaven chin. The analogy seemed to redirect the flow of conversation away from what type of magic the Elf used and back to the goddesses terminology as he started to draw parallels.


    ¡°What? What does being a knight or a¡­ what?¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa looked down at Elijah for clarification.


    ¡°Vassal.¡±


    ¡°Ya, that!¡± She waved dismissively. ¡°What does that have anything to do with me claiming my mortals?¡±


    Lisette, seizing the opportunity presented by O''Reilly''s analogy, stepped in to clarify. "It''s just a bit of our history," she explained. "In medieval times, knights were warriors who swore loyalty to a lord in exchange for protection and land. Vassals were similar, offering service or loyalty in exchange for certain privileges. The key point here is the mutual agreement and the benefits both parties gained from the arrangement."


    Her explanation seemed to strike a chord with Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, who tilted her head in apparent curiosity. "So, these knights and vassals chose to serve in exchange for protection and rewards?" she asked, the concept seemingly new to her.


    "Yes, exactly," Lisette continued. "It was based on mutual consent and benefit. Perhaps we can draw a parallel to your concept of claiming a soul. Instead of seeing it as ownership, it could be viewed as a mutual agreement where both parties¡ªyourself and the mortal¡ªbenefit from the relationship."


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa sat and dangled her leg in thought, processing the information. "Hmmmmm¡­ loyalty and a mutual agreement..." she murmured, her tone softening. "Wait! You¡¯re not loyal at all!¡± She shouted, using her foot to smack him in the head.


    ¡°Hey! You little shit! I didn¡¯t consent to a goddamn thing!¡± He snapped back, trying to grab at the menace.


    Floating away, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa pointed an accusatory finger at the man. ¡°Yes you did! Yes you did!¡± The accusation hung in the air and indignation spread across her face. "When I left my prison, you accepted me. You accepted my power. That''s consent!"


    Everyone turned a raised eyebrow to Elijah, as his eyes shifted to the side for a moment as he started to recall the memory. ¡°No I didn¡¯t! So what, you¡¯re gonna start making shit up now-¡± He abruptly paused mid sentence and froze. ¡°Ahhh, shit¡­¡±


    Elijah''s sudden realization momentarily silenced the room. His initial indignation gave way to a begrudging acknowledgment. "Ahhhhh¡­ shit... I did say something, didn''t I?"


    Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, seizing the moment, floated closer to him with a triumphant look. "See! You did agree! You acknowledged my power, so you belong to me!¡±


    A horrible defeat groan left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Fuck me, dude¡­¡± A mix of frustration and resignation spread across his face as everyone¡¯s eyes remained locked on him. ¡°Okay¡­ I may have said something along the lines of accepting, but that was more a sarcastic remark and not exactly a well-thought-out agreement."


    Lisette stepped in, her voice calm and measured although laced with a bit of concern.¡±It sounds like there was some level of acknowledgement, even if it wasn¡¯t formal¡­¡± She looked uneasily to Toivonen before turning towards The Director. ¡°But it seemed to be enough to form a binding pact.¡±


    O''Reilly, sensing the gravity of the situation, leaned forward, his expression a blend of seriousness and contemplation. "So this¡­ goddess is able to form a contract even if it¡¯s in the form of a verbal joke?¡± He asked, looking around.


    In this complex and tense moment, Yzael hesitantly raised her voice, her accent thick and her choice of words careful as she attempted to bridge the gap between her understanding and the human world.


    "Um... if I may," Yzael began, her voice laced with uncertainty. "Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, she is... uhh, more than just a goddess. In... in our history, she is also known as a High Judge in a... a Fae Court." Her hands fidgeted slightly as she spoke, indicating her discomfort.


    The room''s attention shifted to her, giving her an encouraging nod to continue.


    "The Fae, they are known, um, for their, uh¡­" Yzael elaborated, struggling to find the right words in this foreign tongue. "Contracts. And these contracts... They are not simple. They are complex, with... what''s that word? Ah yes, words that bind, uh, very deeply. People, they fall into these contracts without fully understanding."


    Her gaze drifted, as if recalling tales and warnings from her own world. "These contracts, they can have, um, specific clauses, often... not good. Sometimes, uhh, malicious, other times lead to horrible death. It is said that the Fae, they... they play with words, with intentions. What is casual to us can be very binding in their world."


    Her explanation provided a new layer of complexity to the situation, illuminating the nuanced and often perilous nature of dealings with beings like Yanaiy¨¢niuoa. O''Reilly and the others in the room absorbed her words, now understanding the need for extreme caution and clarity in every word they chose to speak.


    ¡°This means, what might seem like a small off handed dismissal to us, could be a binding agreement to them.¡± Lisette said grimly as she looked at Elijah who was pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to squeeze the headache away.


    ¡°Jesus Christ¡­¡± The man moaned with a much more subdued tone. ¡°So what does this mean? I¡¯m stuck with this annoying shithead-¡±


    ¡°RUDE!¡±


    ¡°Until I¡¯m dead?¡± Elijah finished his sentence, clearly exasperated.


    The room filled with an uneasy silence as everyone contemplated the implications of Elijah''s situation. The Director glanced around the table, his expression one of deep thought, as if trying to find a loophole or a way out of this unexpected predicament.


    However, everyone finally turned to the little goddess as she perched atop of a stapler with a haughty look on her face. ¡°What makes you think death would free you of our contract?¡± She chimed in with a high-pitched sing-song voice. ¡°I¡¯m a TRUE goddess, and you¡¯re my apostle!¡± She giggled before floating over to the man. ¡±So that means your SOUL belongs to me, dummy!¡±


    Elijah made a pained face and closed his eyes as he slammed the back of his chair and covered his face with both hands. ¡°Of-fucking-Course!¡± He groaned as the little fairy cackled evilly.


    ¡°Your soul is mine, mine, mine!¡± She sang, circling his head. ¡°You belong to me!¡±


    Lisette cringed at the thought of being bound to this entity for all eternity. It was already a startling fact that she was learning details of their life after death, but she couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for Elijah''s situation. "Is there any way to... nullify this pact? Any conditions under which it could be dissolved?" She asked with her eyes glued on the diminutive being.


    ¡°Nope! It¡¯s eternal, just like me!¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa declared with a sense of finality even though her tone was playful. "Eternal and unbreakable, just like the bonds of true divinity!"


    With the room still grappling with the implications of Elijah''s situation, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s attention suddenly shifted towards Yzael. She floated closer to the High Elf, her expression changing to one of expectancy. "Now, about you," she said, pointing a diminutive finger at Yzael. "You''ve been using my magic, so it''s only right that you accept your position as my servant and worshipper."


    Yzael, already overwhelmed by the events of the day, looked visibly uncomfortable at the proposition. "I... um, I already follow a god," she stammered, her voice low and hesitant. However, she worshiped that god in an admittedly, very secular and loose manner so she could wander her realm without being hassled by more of the zealous types.


    However, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa laughed heartily at Yzael''s response, slapping her knee. "Oh, that¡¯s good!" She chuckled, "using my magic, the kind that would have your own people burning you at the stake, and yet you hesitate?" Her tone was teasing yet edged with a sharp truth.


    Shifting uneasily, Yzael''s eyes darted back to Elijah, whose world seemed to have come crashing down around him as he sat there with both his hands pressed against his face. The thought of enduring a similar fate as him was¡­ daunting, to say the least. "I... I''m not sure that''s wise," she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "I believe I must stay faithful to my current deity¡­.¡± She said fully believing that it wasn¡¯t a good idea. Especially after what I''ve seen today with Mr. Drake''s situation, she definitely didn¡¯t want to be bound in such a manner.


    The already malicious smile on Yanaiy¨¢niuoa¡¯s face only grew larger as she observed Yzael hesitance. ¡°Oh? Oh, oh, oh? Is that so?¡± The fairy buzzed next to Yzael¡¯s face, causing the Elf to flinch and yelp.


    ¡°Is that so? Is that so???¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa continued, zipping around to make sure Yzael was always looking at her as the poor Elf turned her head from one side to the other in an effort to avoid eye contact. ¡°What about your little friend? Don¡¯t you want to keep her safe?¡±


    Yzael instantly froze and stared at the little menace with wide eyes.


    ¡°I can keep her safe, ya know! I can tell these human¡¯s to not touch her, ya know! I¡¯ma goddess, ya know!¡± The little fairy yelled with a toothy grin.


    The mention of Lysandra made Yzael''s heart race. Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s words hit too close to home and her commander was the very reason for Yzael¡¯s bold actions that led her to this very room and struck a deep chord within her. The High Elf looked at the fairy, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and uncertainty before slowly opening her mouth. ¡°H-How do you know?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Yanaiy¨¢niuoa looked at her as if the Elf was stupid. ¡°What do you mean, how do I know? Do you not remember the whole me dominating your soul-¡±


    ¡°Failed to dominate.¡± Elijah, being petty as usual, heckled his patron


    ¡°SHUT UP!!!¡± The goddess snapped head over to him and roared before turning back to Yzael while grumbling to herself. ¡°Anyways¡­ Do you not remember me casting a domination spell on you?¡± The goddess corrected herself as she addressed Yzael again.


    An overwhelming sensation overcame Yzael as she remembered being trapped within her own mind and became a prisoner to forces far beyond her comprehension. The memory of that helplessness and the dreadful feeling of being lost within an arcane maze were still vivid. She shuddered at the recollection as her eyes darted all around the room.


    Swallowing hard, Yzael looked down as her thoughts raced. The idea of forfeiting one¡¯s soul to a goddess of such¡­ notoriety was beyond terrifying, but the thought of potentially losing another friend was equally as horrible. Even though Yzael was nowhere near as close to Lysandra as she was Gideon, her commander was still cut from the same cloth from the same tavern¡­


    And that was enough.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Yzael squeaked with a hoarse voice.


    ¡°I accept¡­¡±


    Suddenly the room flashed violet as Yanaiy¨¢niuoa placed a hand on Yzael¡¯s head and casted her binding spell.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 28

    Varian, Emperor of the Seraphic Empire, Son of matrimony between a goddess and an Ancient dragon, sat at the head of the large marble table with a regal demeanor as his councilors, advisors, and generals of varying races stared at him.


    However, his majestic appearance couldn''t hide the thinly veiled frustration and tinge of fear that struck at his heart. The aftermath of his ambitious but ultimately disastrous attempt to invade another world through a gateway constructed by an imprisoned divine entity had left him grappling with the harsh realities of his situation. His dream of becoming a true god, worshipped by a world''s worth of devotees, had crumbled in the face of modern weaponry and tactics, a bitter pill for an emperor and a would-be deity to swallow.


    And to make things worse, that imprisoned entity had been freed with its binding seemingly crumpling to dust¡­


    A deep and uncomfortable silence filled the council hall after Korthax, the dragonkin general who also harbored white feathers, presented the details of his failed venture. The failure was not just a military defeat; it was a blow to the core of the Empire''s image of indisputable strength and jeopardized its deterrence posture. But¡­. What made the atmosphere heavy wasn''t the details of these otherworlders ways of fighting¡­No, it was what the general proposed they do next.


    Everyone stared at Korthax as if he was a madman when he asked the Emperor for permission to pull their forces out of the occupied territories they''d been assimilating for nearly a century and effectively abandoning their vassals and allies. The general wanted the territories to act as buffer states against the otherworlders when they inevitably crossed into their realm. Which was looking more and more likely as they saw a slow but seemingly endless build-up of their metal beasts and equipment


    Nevertheless, the council met this proposal with dismay and outrage as a storm of voices erupted after General Korthax''s controversial proposal. The members of the council, comprised of seasoned generals, wise advisors, and influential nobles, were visibly agitated and made their displeasure known with a cacophony of disbelief and anger.


    "General Korthax, have you lost your mind!?" bellowed Councilor, a Dark Elf and a veteran commander of many campaigns, with his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "To abandon our territories, our vassals? This is not only cowardice, it is a DISGRACE!" His hand slammed down onto the marble table, cracking it.


    Another member, Noblewoman Elenariel, one of the Empire''s Sun Elf Duchess'', stood up and leaned forward aggressively with her hands on the table. "How dare you propose something so abominable after suffering such a humiliating retreat!" She sneered with fury etched on her face. "We are the Seraphic Empire, not some frightened fledgling kobold cowering before a dragon!"


    The room resonated with similar sentiments, with each council member voicing dissent as Korthax stood there. Advisor Aurelianthrax, a vibrantly red-feathered dragon known for her usually calm demeanor, spoke up incredulously. "General Korthax, your plan reeks of defeatism." She said with almost a dangerous hiss. "What of the years of effort, the resources spent, or the irreplaceable forces and personnel lost? Are we to simply hand over these lands to act as a buffer for an enemy we''ve barely understood?"


    Korthax brushed down his slightly ruffled feathers as he did his best to maintain his composure but ultimately stood his ground. "Councilors, Generals, Advisors, I understand your concerns. But we must face the reality of our situation." He said grandly, gesturing around the room. "Our incursion into¡­ that world has exposed us to an enemy whose capabilities far exceeded our expectations. We cannot risk further losses to our draconic forces, especially after learning the otherworld had freed The Banished One!"


    The mention of the newly freed divine entity momentarily quelled the uproar, a reminder of the precarious situation they found themselves in. Varian, who had been silent during the outburst, finally stood up and spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. "Enough! We must not let emotion cloud our judgment." He said, sitting back down in his opulent chair. "General Korthax, explain the rationale behind your proposal in detail."


    Grateful for the Emperor''s intervention, Korthax gave a nervous nod. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, pulling down his ceremonial uniform to temper his nerves. "Our primary objective is the preservation of our Empire. By withdrawing from these territories, we conserve our draconic forces and create a strategic barrier. The lands we leave behind will not be easy for the otherworlders to navigate and are surrounded by hostile entities that will jump at the first sign of us pulling back." He explained, brushing down a few feathers on his hand. "Coupled with the unforgiving nature of the local foliage and fauna, this gives us ample time to fortify our defenses, assess our enemy''s capabilities more accurately, and determine what happened to The Banished One. Because I''m certain there will be much more than a few Gods and Goddesses asking some hard questions."


    The room fell into a heavy silence as the council members digested Korthax''s explanation. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the reality of their situation was becoming increasingly clear. The Empire was at a crossroads, especially with entire pantheons breathing down their necks. Their decisions now would shape its future for generations and determine the Empire''s survival if the divinities decided they were to blame.


    "Furthermore, we must consider the political ramifications of our actions." Korthax continued with a steady tone. "While it was our portal that led to the otherworld, it was ultimately the otherworlders who released The Banished One." He said, glancing around the council room and seeing that while everyone glowered at him, they were still listening intensely. "With some astute political positioning and a little manipulation, we can redirect the focus to the real enemy."


    His words struck a chord as council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats while their minds worked through the implications. "This is not just a military strategy, but a diplomatic one. We can use this opportunity to unite the various factions and entities against a common foe, the otherworlders," Korthax elaborated, gesturing to emphasize his point.


    It was a pragmatic strategy, yet one that reeked of betrayal and desperation, but the desperate times they found themselves in required desperate measures.


    "By refocusing scrutiny to the otherworlders, we can highlight that while we instigated the situation, those savages were the ones that unleashed the harbinger of apocalypses upon the world.." He said with determination. "With a little¡­ reframing, we can garner sympathy and support, potentially even from those who have historically opposed us," Korthax continued, his voice gaining confidence as he outlined the potential benefits of his plan. "This could lead to new alliances, or at the very least, a redirection of hostility away from our Empire."


    Advisor Aurelianthrax interjected with a tone more contemplative than before. "So, you propose we use your failure to our advantage.¡± She said in a tone that implied she meant that as both a personal attack and a ruminative thought. ¡°We reshape the narrative to strengthen our position both militarily and diplomatically?"


    "Exactly," Korthax affirmed.


    The atmosphere in the room shifted from outright hostility to a begrudging acceptance as the council members began to see the strategic value in Korthax''s proposal. General Solien, A Sun Elf known for his strategic acumen, nodded thoughtfully. "It''s a distasteful proposition, yet it could indeed buy us the time to regroup and assess our situation more effectively."


    Varian, who had been silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke up. "We are at a critical juncture," he began, his voice resonating with the authority of his divine lineage. "Our Empire''s survival and future are at stake. General Korthax''s plan, while unpalatable, presents a viable path forward in these challenging times. We must be willing to adapt and make difficult choices."


    He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "However, we cannot ignore the potential consequences of such actions. Betraying our vassals and allies could have long-lasting repercussions, damaging our reputation and honor. We must weigh these risks against the potential gains."


    Councilor Silvianor leaned forward with a grave expression. "Your Majesty, the risks are indeed significant. But we still need to show token support for those barbarians on the periphery."


    Varian nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his council. "Very well." He said, turning towards Korthax. "General Korthax, proceed with your plan but dedicate a few legions of our less effective forces to support those on the periphery. This will include our less competent commanders, nobles who have proven themselves more of a liability than an asset, and corrupt lords who have been a cancer to our society. Let them serve a dual purpose in these trying times."


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Korthax nodded, understanding the depth of the Emperor''s strategy. "A wise decision, Your Majesty. It will act as a cleansing of our ranks, removing elements that have long hindered our progress while presenting a fa?ade of support to our border territories."


    Advisor Luminarion, one of the Emperor''s Seraphic political strategists with ethereal purple feathers, spoke up. "I know quite a few dissenting and potential dissenting voices within our sacred Empire." He said, knocking his fist on the table. "Those who have been a thorn in our side can now be put to use in a manner that benefits all."


    "Exactly, we cannot afford to carry dead weight." Varian nodded in agreement. "Every decision, every action, must serve the greater good of the Empire."


    The council members exchanged understanding looks, recognizing their Emperor''s orders'' harsh but necessary nature. Everyone in the council hall stood and bowed towards the Emperor in unison. "By your will." They said, causing their voice to echo wondrously throughout the council hall.


    Wearing a magnanimous expression, the Emperor waved his hand for them to make their leave and for each member to turn and march out of the room.


    Varian''s face remained stoic and commanding as they left, but as the large ornate doors of the council hall closed with a resonant thud, his face, so carefully composed during the meeting, began to shift. The mask of calm sovereignty he wore for his councilors slowly morphed into an expression of unbridled fury.


    He sat there, alone in the vastness of the council hall, his gaze still fixed on the closed doors. The room''s silence seemed to amplify the storm brewing within him, and every minute that passed caused his anger to grow, festering like an unchecked wound.


    Finally, unable to contain the tempest raging inside him, Varian slammed his fist on the thick marble table. The force of his divine strength shattered the stone, sending shards scattering across the floor. "ALASTOR!" he roared, his voice filled with a rage that shook the very foundations of the hall.


    His outburst was more than just a scream of anger; it manifested his frustration, disappointment, and fear. As the Emperor stood up, he could feel his entire body trembling with fury. "You coward!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You treacherous, spineless wretch!"


    Varian paced back and forth, his footsteps heavy and resounding. "If you were ever a mortal, I would find your kin and slaughter them ALL!!" His voice grew louder, filled with venom. "YOU DARE BRING ME THIS DEBACLE!!!"


    The Emperor''s face was contorted with anger as his eyes burned with a fiery intensity. "I should have known! Trusting a devil from the hells, what folly!" He cursed Alastor''s name; each insult reflected his betrayal of the dreams shattered by the disastrous campaign.


    As his tirade continued, the air in the council hall grew heavy, charged with the raw, uncontrolled power of his anger. Varian, the Emperor of the Seraphic Empire, stood alone amidst the ruins of the council table, his rage unabated, a ruler betrayed and beleaguered by the consequences of his ambition.


    After several long, furious outbursts, Varian''s breathing slowly began to steady. The red haze of his anger began to fade and was replaced by an emperor''s cold, calculating mind. He straightened his posture and regained the dignified poise that befits his status. With a composed motion, he reached down to adjust his majestic imperial uniform, smoothing out the creases, brushing off the dust, and straightening the fabric to reassert control over his emotions and his situation.


    Varian''s mind then shifted gears as he thought about how to expand on General Korthax''s proposal. If he and his Empire weather this storm, then swift and decisive action and a hint of cunning are necessary.


    As the Emperor pondered the new predicament before him, his thoughts turned toward the border territories and the powers surrounding them. While the idea of sending a token force composed of the less competent elements of his army was a start, Varian knew that more subtle and underhanded maneuvers were needed.


    A few carefully placed words of promise here, the strategic placement of powerful magical artifacts there¡­ and he could sow enough chaos to completely destabilize the entire area and lock everyone into perpetual conflict.


    Taking a deep breath, Varian marched out of the council room, opened the doors, and looked to the nearby, startled guard.


    ¡°Fetch me the Minister of Artifacts.¡±


    -


    Screams and horrible guttural laughter resounded everywhere as Gryki FIzzspark dragged her small green body across the ground, leaving her shattered flame spitter behind her. Pain and fear were the only things that ran through Gryki''s head as her only good arm dug into the earth before pulling her battered body forward.


    The burning city around her was once a haven of goblin innovation and industriousness, but now it has been reduced to a hellscape of fire and death. Gryki''s movement was a testament to her resilience and determination to survive against overwhelming odds.


    But that started to falter as an intense and guttural voice resounded behind her, freezing her blood. "Where is yous think yous goin'' ta go?" it thundered, filled with a menacing amusement that chilled her to the bone.


    Slowly, painfully, Gryki turned around. Her wide eyes were met with the dreaded sight of a massive, muscular orc, towering at a fearsome seven feet tall. His green skin was almost as dark as the smoke-filled sky, and his muscles rippled with the power of untamed savagery.


    The orc gestured grandly to the burning city around them, where the screams of innocents were drowned out by the victorious guttural laughter of ogres and orcs.


    ¡°Pretty hard ta run when yours legs don''t work¡± The monstrous being laughed as it slowly approached.


    Covering his arm was the source of his might, a large and strange gauntlet that looked more like a product of arcane sorcery than any weaponry the horde could have muster. The massive gauntlet hummed with energy, its intricate mechanisms and glowing runes providing the orc with an otherworldly strength.


    The orc let out a deep, guttural laugh, his eyes fixed on Gryki as he spoke mockingly. "Look at you, tiny gobo," he sneered. "Yous thought yous coulda says no to me? Fight against me and the boyz?" The orc''s grin widened, revealing the long and jagged teeth that were signature to orcs.


    ¡°Yous runnin¡¯ for help? Is dat it?¡±


    Gryki''s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the dread that filled her. The orc''s towering presence loomed over her, his shadow engulfing her small form. As he reached out with his giant gauntleted hand, she tried to scramble away, but her injured body betrayed her.


    The orc''s laughter filled the air, a sound cruel and mocking as a menacing hand, clad in the techno-magic gauntlet, closed around Gryki with an ease that belied his massive size. Gryki screamed in pain, the pressure of his grip threatening to crush her already battered body.


    "Yous ain''t goin'' nowhere, gobo," Grotmash Bludfist growled, his voice filled with malicious glee. "Ain''t nowhere for yous gobos to go."


    A horrid scream resounded as Gryki felt that awful gauntlet squeeze and crush her already mangled side. Bones snap and already torn flesh ripped under the immense pressure. Tears streamed down Gryki''s face, not just from the physical pain but also from the sight of her beloved city in ruins, her people suffering.


    Grotmash Bludfist leaned closer, his foul breath hot on her face. "Awww¡­ "The monster cooed in false sympathy. "Yous want the pain to stop, little gobo?" he sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "All yous had ta do was bow to da Bossman, Fraka." He said coldly, "Bow ta me."


    "P-please¡­" Gryki pleaded through gritted teeth, the agony overwhelming her resolve momentarily. Her voice was ragged, barely audible over the crackling flames and distant screams. "Stop¡­"


    Fraka, reveling in her pain, tilted his head, examining her like a predator assessing its prey. His eyes, cold and merciless, reflected the fires that raged around them. "Stop, eh?" he mused aloud. "Maybe I will, maybe I won''t. Depends on how much fun I be havin''."


    The sheer malice in his voice was like a physical blow to Gryki, and for a moment, Gryki lost all hope as the pain started to make her consciousness flicker in and out. However, another jolt of pain coursed through the goblin as she felt herself topple to the floor. Fraka stood above her with that wicked smile as she stared down at the goblin. His words jolted Gryki back to harsh reality as his tone shifted, adopting an air of twisted ownership. "Yous know what, little gobo?" he said, his voice low and menacing. "I''ve decided. Yous ain''t gonna die here. No, yous are part of da Horde now. Yous are one of Fraka''s boyz."


    Gryki lay there cradling her ruined arm and leg as her tears pelted the singed grass. She didn''t say anything, but her answer was clear as her head remained lowered subservently.


    Another cruel laugh echoed around them as Fraka seemed to mock the very essence of Gryki''s spirit. "That''s right, little gobo," he sneered, watching her with a malevolent satisfaction as his form, a figure of overwhelming power and brutality, towered above her. "Yous understand now. Yous got no choice but to serve. Fraka Gar Orak has claimed you."


    Broken and defeated, Gyrki felt a deep despair engulf her as her mind went to her people. The reality of their situation was crushing ¨C not only had she witnessed the destruction of her home, but now she and her people faced a future of servitude under the very monster responsible for it all.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 29

    A mix of frustration and dread was etched on Lysandra¡¯s face as she let out a heavy sigh. Looking down she examined the metal cuffs clasped tightly around her wrists. Each and every one of them was connected to thick metal chains, which in turn anchored her firmly to the all-metal table in front of her.


    Looking around she found herself once again in the stark, featureless room that had become an all-too-familiar setting. It was a place of endless meaningless conversations that were passed off as interrogations. Every once in a while they¡¯d ask her something meaningful she¡¯d half heartedly ramble off and answer, but in the end, it always circled back to trivialities.


    Lysandra''s patience was wearing thin, the repetitive nature of these sessions becoming more and more grating with each visit. As she glanced around the room, her gaze fell on the one-way mirror that she knew housed her observers. It was like a silent, unblinking eye, constantly watching, judging. She wondered if they were looking for weaknesses, for cracks in her resolve, or simply trying to understand the enigma that she was.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have anything to hide anyways¡­¡± She let out another defeated sigh as she hung her head.


    In the cold, hard silence of the room, Lysandra''s thoughts turned inward. She contemplated the series of events that had led her here, to this moment of isolation and scrutiny. Her actions, driven by a mix of protective instinct and a rush of emotions, now seemed impetuous in the stark light of the consequences.


    And to top it all off, she felt foolish. Yzael, wasn¡¯t just some damsel in distress or even a mediocre mage unable to function when someone or something got too close. No, Yzael was a seasoned and powerful High Elf mage that was probably several times older than Lysandra herself.


    As Lysandra sat there, her thoughts wandered to Yzael''s vast repertoire of spells, her centuries of experience in wielding magic. She could only imagine the depth and breadth of Yzael''s magical knowledge, the countless spells and incantations she must know by heart, the arcane secrets she had unraveled over her long life. Yzael, in many ways, was a living archive of magical lore, a testament to the power and longevity of her kind.


    However, she didn¡¯t regret a single thing.


    Just as the thought ran through Lysandra¡¯s head, the room''s door creaked open, pulling her from her reverie. To her surprise, Dr. Stennhouse, a scholar from this world whom she hadn''t seen in what felt like ages, walked in. Her good eye widened in shock and she moved to greet him, the heavy bindings and the heavily armed soldiers walking in behind him put a stop to that.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Hello, Lysandra.¡± Dr. Stennhouse''s greeting was tentative, almost cautious. Lysandra could sense a distinct change in his demeanor since their last interaction. He seemed more reserved, his usual academic enthusiasm dimmed by whatever circumstances had occurred outside this room.


    "H-Hello Stennhouse," Lysandra replied, her voice tinged with both relief and concern. "It''s been some time."


    As they conversed, it became evident that Dr. Stennhouse''s grasp of her language had improved significantly. His sentences, though still marked by hesitation and occasional fumbling for words, were more coherent than before. This improvement, however, was overshadowed by the palpable tension in the air.


    Lysandra''s mind returned to the matter that troubled her the most. "Where is Emma?" she asked, looking past the scholar expectantly. "Is she doing alright?"


    Dr. Stennhouse hesitated, his expression clouded with something Lysandra couldn''t quite decipher. The way he avoided her gaze was telling. "Emma... she''s no longer working with us, Lysandra," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and discomfort.


    Furrowing her brows, Lysandra had a hard time understanding his words. "No longer¡­ working with you? What do you mean? Where is she?" The concern was evident in her voice, her single eye searching his face for answers.


    With his shoulders slumping noticeably, Dr. Stennhouse took a deep breath and looked down. "Emma has¡­ left the project. There were... uhhh, disagreements, and she has gone elsewhere." His words were carefully measured, but the underlying tension was clear.


    The revelation struck Lysandra with a mix of emotions. Emma and Scholar Stennhouse had been a bridge between her and this strange new world, a friendly face amidst those who saw her as a threat. Emma¡¯s departure left Lysandra feeling even more isolated and vulnerable.


    "Is she safe, at least?" Lysandra pressed, her voice laced with worry.


    "Yes, of course," Dr. Stennhouse replied, his voice softening slightly. "She''s fine. She has returned to her studies elsewhere."


    Lysandra absorbed this information with a mix of relief and sadness. Emma was safe, but the circumstances of her departure remained a mystery. Before she could say anything further, Dr. Stennhouse interjected, his tone more somber than before.


    "And, Lysandra, I am also leaving the project," he announced, his gaze meeting hers directly.


    Lysandra stared at him, her mind racing. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    Dr. Stennhouse sighed, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of regret. "We made¡­ uhh¡­ mistake," he said, his words heavy with meaning. "It cost all, dearly and¡­ almost got others killed. The decision was made that it was best to move on."


    As Lysandra read the lines of stress etched on Dr. Stennhouse''s face, it was clear to her that he did not agree with this judgment. But she remained silent, understanding all too well the complexity and weight of the situation. She too had been part of the chain of events that led to this point.


    ¡°I come say goodbye," Dr. Stennhouse continued, his tone tinged with a blend of sorrow and resignation. "My um¡­ leaders granted me this courtesy for all the hard work and cooperation. For willingly turning over, uhhh¡­ scholar¡­ things¡­ I''ve learned, I will give it to my successor."


    Lysandra''s heart sank at those words as her gaze turned downwards to her shackles "Goodbye¡­?" She repeated to herself softly.


    The words echoed sadly throughout the room. Dr. Stennhouse had been more than just a researcher to her; he had been a link to understanding this new and baffling world. His departure felt like another closing door leaving her even more isolated in this foreign place.


    Dr. Stennhouse gave a nod, a mixture of sadness and resignation in his expression. "Yes, goodbye.¡±


    "I wish it didn''t have to end like this," Lysandra said quietly. She could tell it wasn''t easy for him to walk away just as it wasn¡¯t easy for her to lose another ally. But she understood the reasoning behind it all. The man must have already had a ton of constraints and pressures placed upon him, so that little scuffle in her room must have really pushed everything over the edge.


    A small smile spread across Stennhouse¡¯s face as he stood up. ¡°Me too. But we have to¡­ accept what is given.¡± He said as looked at the guard who simply gave him a nod.


    He stood up, ready to leave. "Take care, Lysandra. I hope you find your way."


    As the door closed behind him, Lysandra was left alone with her thoughts as she came to realize she was just another stranger in a strange land.


    She wanted to be angry at all these¡­ mundane and inert humans around her, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to do so. They had treated her with more respect and dignity than anyone in her world would, especially given her circumstances.


    Lysandra looked around the bare room as feeling the weight pressed down on her entire being. She was truly alone, now. She should have never come to this heaven¡¯s forsaken world. The decision to take up a freelance contract was driven by greed, a lure of riches and adventure that now seemed foolish and shortsighted. She had envisioned a straightforward task, a simple in-and-out job that would have padded her coffers and added another tale to her repertoire. Instead, she found herself entangled in a conflict that spanned worlds, a pawn in a game far beyond her understanding.


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    Her thoughts turned to the Seraphic Empire, those pompous, arrogant feathered bastards who had sparked this entire fiasco. They had thought they could just waltz into another reality and claim it as their own, without even an errant thought to what may lay on the other side. Lysandra felt a surge of anger at their hubris. It was their actions, their unbridled ambition, that had brought her to this cell.


    Yet, here she was, chained and restrained, while those responsible for the invasion likely continued their machinations unscathed. The injustice of it all gnawed at her. She had been a free agent, a master of her own destiny, and now she was reduced to a captive, her fate in the hands of others.


    But Lysandra was not one to wallow in self-pity or resign herself to her circumstances. She had always been a survivor, someone who adapted and overcame. This situation, as dire as it was, would not be her end.


    The former commander looked up to the false mirror and opened her mouth, but once again, the door creaked open to show that dark haired woman, Toi¡­. Toi something. The woman had regularly accompanied the scholars during their previous visits and always stood stoically overseeing the learning sessions next to the guards.


    Lysandra''s gaze lingered on her for a moment, recognizing the familiar face. It had been a while since she last saw this woman, but her presence didn''t elicit any particular reaction. She was just another character in this ever-evolving drama. But just as Lysandra was about to lower her gaze and resign herself to yet another round of questions, she caught a glimpse of Yzael following in just behind the guards that stepped in.


    ¡°Y-Yzael!?¡± Lysandra  basically yelled as her shackles strained from her attempt to move forward.


    Relief, confusion and desperation swirled throughout Lysandra as her eyes as she watched both the dark haired woman and Yzael took a seat in front of her. ¡°Yzael¡­ What''s going on¡­?¡±


    Yzael''s expression remained composed, a stark contrast to Lysandra''s evident turmoil. The High Elf turned to Toivonen who simply gave a nod to give Yzael permission to speak. Turning her attention back to Lysandra, Yzael''s eyes conveyed a seriousness that demanded attention.


    "Lysandra, I need you to listen carefully and answer as truthfully as you can," Yzael instructed, her tone firm yet reassuring.


    Lysandra''s heart pounded thunderously in her chest as she tried to process the scene before her. Yzael was unshackled and sitting across from her and seemed to have assumed a role far different from that of a fellow captive. "Have you... joined them?" Lysandra asked, her voice reflecting a mix of disbelief and concern.


    A difficult look spread across Yzael¡¯s usually stoic face as she slowly looked away. "It''s not about joining them, Lysandra. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s complicated."


    "But why are you free while I remain bound?" Lysandra couldn''t mask the confusion and hurt in her voice.


    Before Yzael could respond, Toivonen interjected with a calm yet authoritative voice. "Yzael, please begin the questioning. We need to understand the full extent of Lysandra''s involvement with her employers."


    Yzael hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on Lysandra''s pained face before letting out a sigh. "Lysandra, we need to understand why you came to this world. Can you tell us about the contract you accepted from the Seraphic Empire?" Yzael''s voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in her words.


    A mix of confusion and frustration was etched onto Lysandra¡¯s face as gave Yzael a hard look. "Why are you asking me this, Yzael? You took the same contract. You should know," she said, her voice tinged with a sense of betrayal.


    ¡°Yes, I was. But as I¡¯m more-than sure you¡¯re aware, these humans are¡­ meticulous and redundant.¡±  Yzael acknowledged what Lysandra was feeling and tried to soothe her former commander by reiterating the nature of the humans'' approach.


    The response  seemed to resonate with Lysandra as she let out a tired sigh, resigning herself to the situation. "Fine," She whispered in a weary voice.


    "The contract I took... it was straightforward and was offered by taskers sponsored by the empire.¡± Lysandra explained as she remembered and regretted disregarding the warnings of Ulina, owner of a Tavern acting as a small Freelancer guild she was a part of. ¡°I was to provide my services as a mercenary ¨C nothing more. Specific tasks, recon, escort duties, and occasionally dealing with bandits and criminals. The pay was good, very good. I didn''t ask questions; I never do. It''s cleaner that way."


    Toivonen listened to Yzael¡¯s translation attentively, taking mental notes. "And at any point, were you made aware of their broader intentions? The invasion?"


    Lysandra looked to Yzael as she reiterated Toivonen¡¯s question and shook her head. "No. They never shared their plans with hired help. I knew they were ambitious, the Empire always is, but an invasion of another world? No, I didn''t see that coming."


    Yzael translated this, her expression remaining neutral. Toivonen¡¯s gaze was analytical, trying to discern the truth in Lysandra¡¯s words.


    "Did you have any interactions with higher-ups in the Empire? Anyone who might have hinted at something more?" Yzael asked, following Toivonen''s line of inquiry.


    Lysandra thought for a moment. "Not really. My only interaction with anyone of remote standing was the Drakonic officer that warned us about¡­¡± She trailed off and glanced towards Toivonen. ¡°Their capabilities. And by that time, we were already in the field.¡±


    Toivonen nodded slightly, jotting down notes on her pad as she listened to Yzael. The intelligence officer then leaned in, her eyes sharp and focused. "And what is your opinion on the Empire?¡±


    Letting out an annoyed sigh, Lysandra dropped her head in a fit of frustration. "I''ve answered these questions a hundred times over," she said, her voice edged with irritation.


    ¡°Lysandra¡­ I know, but please answer the question.¡± Yzael looked between Lysandra and Toivonen. ¡°This is simply their way, so just please.¡±


    With a twitching eye, Lysandra shook her head and relented. "Ugh¡­ fine.¡± She groaned. ¡°My feelings about the Empire haven''t changed. They''re ambitious, overreaching, and now, clearly reckless.


    Yzael translated her words, maintaining a neutral expression, but Lysandra could see a hint of understanding in her eyes. Toivonen, however, remained impassive, her demeanor professional and detached.


    ¡°And what is her opinion of the forces of the world the Empire invaded?¡± Toivonen said before glancing at Yzael who relayed the question with the insistence on the importance of an honest response.


    Lysandra''s annoyance faded, replaced by a contemplative silence. She looked down at her shackled hands, her expression turning distant as she grappled with the weight of the question. The memories of her friends and colleagues who had come to this world with her, filled her thoughts. She had led them here, promising adventure and riches, only to find tragedy and death.


    Her mind wandered to the taverns where they had planned their exploits, the laughter and jokes they had shared. Each face, each voice, now just echoes in her memory. They had trusted her, and she had led them into a disaster.


    So, who was to blame? The people of this world who had swung the death blow in defense of their home? Or the Empire, whose reckless ambition had thrust them into a nightmare?


    Guilt, anger and sorrow churned in Lysandra¡¯s gut as her gaze remained fixated on her twiddling hands on the table. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don''t know who to blame," she admitted, her voice laced with pain. "My friends are all dead¡­¡±


    ¡°They all died at the hands of the defenders of this world. But we were the invaders, misled by the Empire''s folly." She continued as she brought her hand up to her missing eye only for it to stop short from the thick chains binding her to the table.


    Yzael translated her words slowly, her voice tinged with empathy. Toivonen listened intently, her expression remaining as she looked towards the two way mirror.


    "Thank you, Lysandra," Toivonen said after a brief pause. "Your perspective is invaluable in understanding the complexities of this conflict."


    The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as Yzael awaited Toivonen''s next move. Toivonen''s gaze was piercing, almost as if she were trying to delve into Lysandra''s very soul. After a moment of heavy silence, she leaned forward, her eyes locked on Lysandra.


    "I''ve been informed," Toivonen began, her voice steady, "that the Empire you were fighting for had decided to withdraw from the battlefield. They forced the mercenaries, including your team, to cover their retreat." Yzael translated her words with a growing sense of dread. "It seems they promised reinforcements, gold, land, and status to those who stayed behind. But that support... it never arrived."


    Lysandra''s reaction was immediate and visceral. A dark, hollow laugh escaped her lips as she dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking with a mix of anger and despair. Yzael, translating her laughter into words, couldn''t hide the scowl on her face.


    Toivonen waited for the laughter to subside, her expression unreadable. The room fell into another round of oppressive silence, the weight of Lysandra''s realization hanging in the air.


    Finally, Toivonen spoke again, her voice rough with effort as she tried to speak in Lysandra and Yzael''s common language. "Do you... want revenge?" Her accent was thick, her pronunciation uncertain, but the intent behind her question was clear.


    Slowly lifting her head, Lysandra''s eyes met Toivonens. The raw emotion in her gaze was palpable and for a long moment, she just stared at Toivonen, her mind wrestling with the enormity of the question.


    After what felt like an eternity, Lysandra finally spoke. ¡°I want to hurt them.¡±


    Toivonen turned towards one of the guards in the back and nodded towards them. ¡°Inform the goddess she¡¯s ready.¡±

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 30

    Weeks had passed since the Ohio Incident, a surreal event that had thrust the small country town into the global spotlight. Just south of the epicenter, where two worlds once violently collided, there now existed a seamless tear in reality, a blending of the fantastical and the mundane.


    The armies of the otherworld, strange and fantastical beings, had been pushed back just outside of New Philadelphia, their advance halted by the might of modern weaponry and tactics. But as many from the broken army had retreated back through the rift, a great deal more scattered, disappearing into the countryside.


    Even now, efforts to round up survivors and insurgents continued, but it was an overwhelming task. The creatures and beings that had crossed over were elusive, their whereabouts often unknown, especially when it came to their strange magics or biology. The consensus among the military and local authorities was clear: finding everyone and everything that had crossed over was an impossibility.


    The focus now had shifted to the area around the rift itself.


    Where there once stood a shimmering portal and a strange blackened spire, now stood an expanse of nothingness. It was as if the two worlds had stitched themselves together at this specific location, creating a surreal landscape that seemed to play tricks on the minds of those who gazed upon it. The rift''s glow had faded when the spire collapsed, leaving behind an area that defied explanation.


    And watching over the anomaly were the stalwart defenders of this formerly mundane world. The once small forward operating base had grown exponentially, evolving into a gargantuan military complex. The ground rumbled with the constant movement of armored vehicles ¡ª some in field exercises, others vigilantly monitoring the other side for any sign of a renewed assault, determined not to be caught off guard again.


    Protected by these sentinels were scientists and researchers from around the globe had flocked to the site, each eager to study this mind-bending phenomenon and the magics that now seemingly permeated the Earth. They set up their equipment, running countless tests and experiments, yet the rift remained an enigma, with no meaningful hypotheses coming forward to explain just what they were experiencing


    Amidst this backdrop of military might and scientific inquiry, the area around the rift had taken on an almost surreal quality. The local population, once fearful and uncertain, had slowly begun to adapt to their new reality. Stories and rumors circulated, some speaking of strange sightings in the woods, others of mysterious happenings near the rift.


    As day turned into night, the area around the rift took on an eerie calm besides the beating of helicopter rotors and the rumbles of armored vehicles. The lights from the military base cast long shadows across the landscape, and the occasional sound of a distant explosion or the staccato of far away gunfire reminded those who grew complacent of the volatile and dangerous nature of the other side.


    ¡°This fuckin¡¯ place...¡± Lieutenant DuPont grumbled after one of his Bradley¡¯s tore into a horrible bear-like creature the size of a pickup truck.


    He hated to admit it, but this encounter near the rift was starting to become less¡­ unsettling as time went on. Every hour of every day there had been multiple incursions from these strange monsters and each time the creature had been¡­ peculiar. This particular monster stood out for its sheer size and fearsome appearance, however. The bear-like beast that Lieutenant DuPont''s unit had engaged during their patrol was a terrifying amalgamation of Earth''s own wildlife and something far more alien.


    It was an imposing blend of a massive grizzly and a wolverine, and had a physique that was both awe-inspiring and horrifying. It stood on all fours, its height rivaling that of a large SUV, and its body was covered in thick, matted fur that was a dark, almost black color, with streaks of red that ran along its spine. The fur bristled with a primal energy, giving the creature an even more daunting appearance.


    Its head was reminiscent of a marsupial, but with a broader, more powerful jawline, filled with razor-sharp teeth that gleamed ominously in the faint light. The eyes of the beast glowed with a deep, unsettling intelligence, a stark contrast to its otherwise brutish appearance.


    But what was most horrifying were its limbs. The damn things were so muscular and robust, DuPont was convinced it could probably overturn one of his armored vehicles if it got too close. Not only that, its limbs ended in massive paws with claws that were more akin to the curved swords, capable of tearing through metal and flesh with equal ease.


    ¡°At least you¡¯re loud as shit¡­.¡± DuPont said in annoyance as he clicked his push-to-talk. ¡°Hit the fucker again. Make sure it¡¯s dead.¡± He ordered as The Bradley''s heavy weapons roared to life once again


    DuPont had to squint as the muzzle flashes illuminated the darkened landscape, but he soon raised his weapon in alarm as The bear-like creature jolted and sprang to life. It appeared the damned monster was playing dead and under the relentless hail of armor-piercing rounds, it suddenly twitched and rolled in agony as it felt its flesh be torn apart. Each impact sent jolts through its hulking form, causing it to let out a guttural roar that echoed through the night.


    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± DuPont yelled as he and his men opened fire on the monster.


    In a display of sheer primal rage and survival instinct, the monstrous bear surged forward to end whatever was threatening its life.  Its massive form, illuminated by the flashes of gunfire, moved with a speed and agility that belied its size and charged towards the armored vehicle currently lighting it up.


    The soldiers reacted instantly, their training kicking in as they unleashed a volley of fire towards the oncoming threat. And in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, the Bradley''s 25mm gun found its mark. An armor-piercing round, fired with deadly precision and struck the creature directly in the head. The impact was instantaneous and devastating as the beast''s charge was abruptly halted and its body stiffened.


    Propelled by its final charge, the bear-like creature tumbled forward, its massive body narrowly missing Lieutenant DuPont and his men as they threw themselves to the side. The ground shook under the weight of the creature as it skidded across the terrain, kicking up dust and debris in its wake.


    Quickly scrambling to their feet, the soldiers pointed their weapons back towards the monstrous beast while their hearts hammered in their chest. As time went on, incursions started to become more frequent and subsequently, patrols started to increase. However, everyone had to ask themselves¡­ Just how many of these creatures slipped through into their world already?


    Shaking off the thought, they warily approached the still form of the monster, weapons raised and ready to put a bullet in it if the thing showed any sign of movement. But the beast lay motionless, the only eye that remained intact, stared lifelessly into the darkness.


    DuPont took a moment to catch his breath as adrenaline kept pumping through his veins. "Check it," he ordered with a firm voice.


    Everyone looked at each other uneasily as they hesitated to move, but two soldiers cautiously approached, and prodded at it with the barrels of their guns. With one jab to the eye, DuPont¡¯s men confirmed that the threat had been finally neutralized.


    ¡°Ya, it¡¯s dead.¡± One soldier said finally relaxing and letting out a deep sigh.


    Turning to his men, DuPont''s expression was one of grim satisfaction mixed with an unspoken understanding of the harsh realities they faced. "Alright, secure the area. Make sure there aren''t any more of these things lurking around," he commanded.


    As his soldier moved to carry out his orders, the Lieutenant grumbled under his breath, his eyes fixed on the massive carcass. "God damn things playing dead¡­ fuckin¡¯ great, just what we need," he muttered, a mix of annoyance and wariness in his tone. DuPont had seen his fair share of combat and bizarre situations, but this new reality, where creatures straight out of myth could feign death and almost overrun a platoon, added a whole new level of unpredictability.


    ¡°What¡¯s next? Skinwalkers or some shit?¡± He mused darkly to himself, half-joking but also half-dreading the possibility. ¡°I mean fuck, we already been blasting god damn dragons, so why the hell not?¡±


    While the platoon swept the area for anything else that would jump out at them, DuPont watched the rest of his Bradleys in his platoon maneuvering and used their optics to scan the horizon. Looking up at the light orange glow in the horizon indicating morning was coming, his thoughts drifted to the base and the sheer scale of the military buildup occurring there. It was an unprecedented show of force, the likes of which he had never seen before.


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    It was a surreal experience. Especially with the increase in patrols, the constant drills, the influx of troops and equipment ¨C all of it pointed to the military setting the conditions for something significant. DuPont had his suspicions, everything pointed to one thing, but he still couldn''t help but wonder what exactly they were preparing for.


    Or more apt; what they were preparing to DO.


    His thoughts turned to those special operations units that were flooding into the base. Every branch and every unit had been increasingly active around the area and these "spooky types," as the soldiers often called them, operated with a heightened level of secrecy that piqued DuPont''s curiosity.


    Lieutenant DuPont''s interactions with one particular Army Special Forces team had been a source of intel for both the on goings with the theater and a deeper insight of the many races from the other side. He had fought alongside the Special Forces ODA during the initial stages of the invasion, running the crucible of blood and dragonfire. However, in the past few weeks, that special forces team had become¡­ extraordinarily tight-lipped. It was a stark contrast to their earlier friendliness and candidness.


    This shift in behavior was another red flag for DuPont. Special Forces teams were naturally secretive about their missions, but this sudden change in demeanor suggested something more. They were no longer just fellow soldiers shooting the shit, they were preparing for something¡­ And whatever it was, it was a part of a larger, more mysterious operation that DuPont could only speculate about.


    The usual conversations and jokes about what they saw or killed when out on ¡®safari¡¯ and the absurdity of their situation had become brief and occasional jokes about the absurdity of their situation, had become brief and terse. Any attempts he made to delve into what they might have been up to were met with non-answers or deflections.


    It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between them.


    DuPont respected the need for operational security, but he couldn''t shake the feeling that these men seemed to be at the heart of what was to come. And as time went on, his gut feeling was slowly starting to be vindicated.


    From Lieutenant DuPont''s perspective, the activities of the special operations forces were becoming increasingly conspicuous, especially around the rift. He''d occasionally catch glimpses of them lurking near the anomaly or returning from its direction, their new Polaris Dagor vehicles and ATVs bristling with an array of heavy weaponry. He also couldn''t help but notice that their excursions often seemed to coincide with increased activity or disturbances near the rift. More than once, he and his unit had been called upon as a Quick Reaction Force (QRF) and was sent racing towards the breach to provide support. They''d arrive to find these special ops teams retreating in their light-skinned vehicles moving at full tilt, often with hostile entities from the other side hot on their heels as they peppered away with their weapons.


    It wasn''t hard for DuPont to put two and two together. These special operations guys were poking and prodding in an attempt to gauge the defenses of whatever lay beyond the rift. Each foray they made seemed to be a calculated effort to test the waters, to push the boundaries and see how the other side reacted. They were not just gathering intelligence; they were actively shaping the battle-space and setting the conditions for what DuPont suspected was an inevitable larger conflict.


    ¡°Tie it up and hook it up to one of the Bradleys!¡± DuPont barked, dispelling the thoughts from his head. ¡°The egg heads back at base are probably gonna wanna see it.¡±


    -


    ¡°Ohhh, look who¡¯s back!¡± Coleman yelled as he leaned back on the couch, staring directly at Elijah who had just opened the door to the team room. ¡°Hey magic boy! We missed you.¡± The ODA team leader said sarcastically with an annoying smile on his face.


    Elijah, who had just entered the room, glanced at Coleman with an expression that shifted between annoyance and indifference. ¡°Go fuck yourself,¡± he shot back without missing a beat, as he simply kept walking past everyone who was giving him a shit eating grin.


    As he made his way further into the room, Bennett, another member of the team, chimed in with a more genuine curiosity. ¡°How''d you manage to convince the nerds to let you go?¡± he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. ¡°Figured they¡¯d chain you to a lab table by now, with all that freaky cosmic bullshit you got going on.¡±


    ¡°You can go fuck yourself too.¡± Elijah retorted in the same indifferent yet agitated monotone voice as made his way to an empty couch. Flopping on top of it, the man let out an exhausted and painful groan.


    Bennett chuckled at the response. ¡°Touchy today, aren¡¯t we? Did they do butt stuff and probe you?¡±


    ¡°I fucking wish.¡± Elijah groaned, rubbing his temples. "That would have been more enjoyable than sitting around like an asshole playing fuck fuck games with spooks and scientists because my goddamn spiritual hitchhiker refuses to talk to anyone normally."


    The team erupted into laughter, but the humor didn''t quite reach Elijah''s eyes. He leaned back into the couch with a distant gaze. "I mean, seriously. You¡¯d think a several millennia-old entity would be more cooperative. But no, it¡¯s like pulling teeth to get a straight answer. And I''m the middleman in this cosmic comedy."


    Coleman peered over his shoulder with a confused expression and raised eyebrow. ¡°How¡¯d you escape?¡±


    Elijah exhaled deeply, his face reflecting a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Escape is a strong word. It was more like... temporary reprieve.¡± He said sitting up and pressing his fingers into his eyes. ¡°Eggheads kept asking the fairy questions and Yana, the fairy, kept asking why she should bother giving answers to mortals. Her idea of a fair exchange is their souls for her knowledge."


    There was a collective narrowing of one''s around the room. They knew very well that something insanely stupid was going to be explained to them and it was a type of stupidity that only people in academia could pull off. Especially when it came to a capricious deity.


    "And get this," Elijah continued, a bitter edge to his tone. "One of the scientists, cocky little fuck, actually laughed at her.¡± He threw his arms up in the air in frustration. ¡°Fucking moron called her stupid or something and said something like ''Oh sure, take my soul, like that''s a real thing.''¡±


    The team members exchanged worried glances, sensing where this was going.


    "Yeah, that didn¡¯t end well," Elijah scoffed with a flick of his hand. "As the CIA dudes screamed at him to take it back in a panic, Yana, in all her glory, decided to take him up on his offer. He did give her permission after all.¡±


    Lister was the one to speak up this time as crossed his arms. ¡°What¡­? What the fuck¡­? And then what?¡±


    Elijah looked slowly at the man and shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°She uhhh¡­ consumed his soul.¡± He said in a serious voice. ¡°One minute he''s laughing, the next he''s this... empty shell. Body''s functioning, brain''s got activity, but there''s nobody home. It was as if someone simply just turned off the lights."


    A heavy silence fell over the room as Elijah''s story sank in.


    Bennett¡¯s hands touched his head with a stupified look on his face and slowly pushed them outwards as if his brain exploded "Man, that''s... that''s dumb as fuck. Imagine consigning yourself to oblivion because you can''t stop being an asshole.¡±


    ¡°Ya. Ya it is.¡± Elijah nodded, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. "And that''s not even the half of it. The whole thing turned into a complete shitshow. CIA handlers started freaking out, scientists were screaming and everyone in general was scrambling, trying to figure out how to handle a goddess who just... does that."


    Coleman leaned forward, intrigued despite the grim subject matter. "So, how''d you get out of that mess and back here?"


    A wry smile tugged Elijah¡¯s lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly? Yana threw a fit." His smile widened into a grin, albeit a tired one. "She got pissed at the CIA Director for not giving her ''apostle'' what he wanted and started ranting about respect, power, or some other cosmic bullshit. It was like watching a child throw a tantrum, but they had the ability to delete you."


    The men around the room exchanged glances, a mix of disbelief and amusement on their faces.


    "So, they just let you go?" Schwarz asked, skepticism lacing his voice.


    Elijah gestured towards the sniper with both hands. "What are they gonna do? Kill her?¡± He said incredulously. ¡°Do you know how many times WE,¡± Elijah pointed to himself and everyone in the room, ¡°tried that? Like c¡¯mon.¡±


    Schwarz shrugged and gave up on point. ¡°Okay, fair point.¡±


    ¡°I think they were just glad to get rid of us, to be honest.¡± Elijah let out an exasperated sigh. ¡±Yana kept making threats, they couldn¡¯t really contain her. So, they told me to ''keep my mouth shut'' and to please fuck off. They probably were hoping she''d follow and leave them alone, to be honest." The medic explained stretching his neck to one side.


    Coleman chuckled. "Well, I guess that''s one way to deal with bureaucracy. Have a temperamental goddess on your side."


    ¡°So where is she now?¡± Bennett said, looking around. ¡°You said they wanted to get rid of both of you, right?¡±


    Taking a look over his shoulder and then around the room as if looking for someone, Elijah simply shrugged. ¡°Fuck if I know. Last I saw her she was bitching at her spook handler they sent with us or some shit.¡±


    The room filled with a mixture of chuckles and relieved sighs. The thought of Yana, a deity with the temperament of a petulant child, haranguing some unfortunate CIA Case Officer was oddly comforting in its absurdity.


    Coleman clapped his hands together, bringing the focus back to the present. "Alright, we''ve got a lot on our plate. Elijah, you''re back with us, so let''s get you briefed on the latest. We¡¯re being more proactive and have increased our activity on the border in order to-¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re invading aren¡¯t we?¡± Elijah suddenly interrupted with an interested look.


    ¡°We¡¯re setting conditions.¡± Coleman gave him a coy smile.

 The Ohio Incident: Chapter 31

    Mikael looked up towards the sky as the Finnish winter cast its serene, icy blanket over the countryside. The snowstorm just a few days prior had transformed the landscape into a picturesque scene of snow-laden trees and frosted fields.


    Dressed in a thick, insulated jacket and a woolen beanie, he exhaled a visible breath into the crisp air. His youthful face, framed by his tight and high haircut, was flushed from the cold. But as Mikael¡¯s boots crunched softly in the fresh snow while walking towards his family''s home, he glanced down to see pop out of the door.


    ¡°MIkael!¡± She yelled running towards him at full tilt.


    Mikael''s heart swelled with joy as he heard his sister''s voice calling out his name. It had been six long months since he had last seen his family, and seeing such an enthusiastic greeting was something he had been looking forward to. He opened his arms wide, expecting a warm, loving embrace that usually greeted him after his prolonged absences.


    However, as Enni approached, something felt amiss. She didn''t slow down as he expected, her pace remaining steady and determined. Mikael''s instincts kicked in just a moment too late as Enni, instead of hugging him, launched herself at him with surprising force.


    In an unexpected move, she tackled him at the waist, lifting his legs in a motion that was more akin to a wrestling move than a sisterly greeting. The momentum sent both of them tumbling into the snow, with Mikael landing on his back and Enni on top, both covered in a dusting of fresh snow.


    For a moment Mikael laid there stunned, looking up at the sky now framed by his sister''s grinning face. "Enni! What the hell!?" he exclaimed, half laughing and half gasping for air.


    With ino laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You''ve been gone for too long! I had to make sure you haven''t gone soft in the military," she teased, helping him up.


    ¡°Soft!?¡± Mikael exclaimed in mock outrage before quickly recovering from his initial surprise and shifting into a defensive position he had learned during his conscription. Wrapping his legs around Enni¡¯s waist, he pulled her down into a full guard, a move that was part of his basic training in the Finnish Defense Forces. "Soft, she says!" Mikael teased, keeping a firm grip on his sister. "If only you knew the ''kentt?keitti?'' life!"


    Enni struggled playfully, trying to break free from his hold. "Oh, so you''re a tough ''intti'' guy now, huh!?" she challenged, laughing.


    As they playfully wrestled in the snow, Mikael continued with his exaggerated tales of military life, his tone light but filled with pride for the skills he had acquired. "And don''t even get me started on those shitty battle drills where you crawl through the mud and pretend you''re some action movie hero!"


    The two giggled and rolled in the snow until the door flew open once again until their father appeared in the doorway with a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. "Perkele, Mikael ja Armas! Lopettakaa se hulluttelu heti!" Jukka called out in Finnish, his voice booming across the snowy yard. He then seamlessly transitioned to English, a tactic he often used to drive his point home. "Stop fooling around, you two! You''re going to bring half this shit into the house!"


    Mikael and Armas paused, looking up at their father, who stood with his hands on his hips, a knowing smile playing on his lips despite his stern words.


    ¡°Stop being idiots and come on in, your mothers busy cooking and she wants to see you!¡± The father continued, his tone light-hearted yet firm. "And you better clean up before coming in, or I''ll hose you down right here in the snow!"


    The siblings exchanged a quick glance and then burst into laughter, realizing they had indeed turned themselves into snow-covered messes. But as soon as their father moved for the house, they knew he wasn''t joking. They quickly stood up, brushing off the snow from their clothes as best as they could.


    "Alright, alright!" Mikael relented with his hand raised over his head in surrender. "We''re coming in. Just no hosing, please!"


    When Mikael and Armas finally made their way towards the house, their father narrowed his eyes at the two siblings as they continued to shake off the remnants of their snowy tussle. But as they stepped inside, Mikael was immediately greeted by a chorus of cheers and shouts of "Welcome back!"


    The cozy living room was packed with Mikael''s closest friends and family, all gathered to celebrate his return after completing his conscription training. The atmosphere was one of joy and pride, with bright smiles and warm embraces shared all around. The room was filled with the comforting scents of home cooking, the sound of laughter, and the soft glow of the fireplace.


    Mikael''s mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel as she beamed at her son. "Mikael!" she exclaimed, rushing over to envelop him in a tight hug. "We''re so proud of you!"


    His father pat Mikael on the back firmly, before joining in on the hug with a proud smile on his face. "You''ve done well, son. We''ve all missed you."


    One by one, Mikael''s friends came forward, clapping him on the back, shaking his hand, and sharing jokes and stories. Among them were his childhood friends, Joonas and Antti, who were both eager to catch up on all the missed time.


    ¡°One of us!¡± They yelled as they both enveloped Mikael in a playful yet heartfelt group hug. Joonas and Antti, slightly older than Mikael, had already completed their own stints in the conscription and were well-versed in what he had faced.


    "You''re finally a part of the veterans club now, Mikael!" Joonas joked, giving him a friendly nudge. "No more greenhorn status for you."


    Antti chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, now you can join us in complaining about the early mornings and endless drills."


    The men in the room all erupted into laughter, nodding in agreement. They all went through the miserable yet oddly rewarding experience that came with conscription in Finland Each of them, at one point or another, had woken up before dawn to crawl around in the mud or lay in some god forbidden snow covered fox hole simulating ambushes. They¡¯ve all endured long marches through the harsh forest covered in head to toe with anti tank mines, and dragged their buddy along after they had been ¡®wounded¡¯.


    Mikael, feeling a surge of pride and belonging, joined in the conversation, sharing his own tales from the recent months. "You guys remember that 30-kilometer trek with full gear? Ya, that was a shitty experience," he said, rolling his eyes in mock frustration.


    ¡°Enough, Enough.¡± Mikael¡¯s mother waved her hand silencing the group. ¡°The food is ready, come, let''s eat already!¡±


    The jovial atmosphere in the room shifted as Mikael''s mother made her announcement and like ravenous dogs everyone''s attention turned towards the dining room. There laid on the massive dining table were an array of piping hot dishes with delicious smells wafting through the air, signaling that a hearty, home-cooked meal was ready.


    Silence reigned as each member liked their lips like starving scavengers, eyeing each other and the food with equal intensity. The unspoken rule of ''first come, first served'' hung in the air, everyone poised on the edge of their seats, ready to make a dash for the first serving.


    However, before chaos could ensue, Mikael''s mother, fully aware of the impending mess her ''buffoons'' were about to create, raised her voice. "Ei, ei, ei! Stop right there!" she commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. The room froze, everyone looking sheepishly at her.


    She then turned and gestured towards Mikael''s father. "Jukka, you first," she said, a smile playing on her lips.


    With a massive smug grin, Mikael¡¯s father rose separated from the group. Enjoying the moment of being the privileged first he walked towards the table grabbed the serving spoon in hand and tantalizingly dipped it into the salmon soup while the rest of the group glared at him with a mix of resentment and hatred.


    ¡°Why does he get to go first!? Isn¡¯t this my party!?¡± Mikael protested, shooting a look to his mother with a pout.


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    His mother shot back a sharp look, the kind that only mothers can give, and retorted, "Shut up, Mikael. You''ll get your turn." Her voice was stern yet tinged with affection.


    Knowing better than to argue further, Mikael looked away and muttered under his breath, "Just saying..."


    A chorus of laughter erupted from the exchange while Mikael''s friends nudged him playfully, teasing him about still being under his mother''s thumb.


    The rest of the family and guests proceeded to serve themselves in an orderly fashion, filling their plates with the sumptuous spread laid out before them. The meal was a feast for the senses, with traditional Finnish dishes like salmon soup, Karelian pasties, and mouth-watering roast meats.


    As they all sat down to eat, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. Stories about school and conscription were told, jokes crude and innocent were shared, and heartfelt memories were recounted. It was a moment of heartfelt reunion, a celebration of Mikael''s return, and a testament to the strong bonds of family and friendship that held them all together in their small, tight knit community.


    ¡°Gah, don¡¯t get me started on the KVKK!¡± Mikael groaned, rolling his eyes and waving his hand dismissively. ¡°That old, ugly piece of shit should have been replaced long ago! At least give us MG3¡¯s!!¡±


    A chorus of agreements echoed around the table from the males. ¡°Right? I mean Germany is just right there!¡± Joonas gestured aggressively where he assumed south was. ¡°I mean we¡¯re in NATO now! Why can¡¯t we have any of the good stuff!?¡±


    The lively dinner atmosphere continued as plates were passed around and everyone dug into the hearty meal. Amidst the clinking of cutlery and laughter, the conversation naturally veered back to their shared experiences in the military.


    Armas, after taking a hearty bite of his Karelian pasty, leaned back and sighed. "You know what I don''t miss? Those damn bicycles.¡± He said with a mouth full of food. ¡°Carrying those god damn bicycles around was so fucking annoying. Just let me walk.¡±


    ¡°At least you¡¯re not in America right now.¡± Mikael¡¯s father spoke up with a piece of Finnish rye bread with a salmon spread on top.


    The conversation paused for a moment as everyone at the table absorbed Jukka''s comment. There was a collective understanding that the topic was shifting to something more serious. The recent events in America, particularly the combat footage that had been circulating on the news, had caught everyone''s attention.


    Joonas, with a slightly more somber tone, turned to Mikael. "Did you see the combat footage from over there? With those... What were they, werewolves?"


    Mikael nodded, his expression turning contemplative as he poked at the last bit of his salmon soup. "Yeah, I saw it," he said, scratching his head. "It was... brutal. Nothing like what we''ve trained for."


    Armas, who had been quietly sipping her glass of milk, chimed in, His voice tinged with concern. "As cool as that air war was, with those flying lizards and all, it must have been hell for the pilots. Imagine staying awake for over 36 hours, locked in that cockpit, only to land, re-arm, and go right back up. No rest, no mercy."


    The table fell silent as each person lost themselves in their thoughts. The idea of an entire world invading another seemed like something straight out of a movie or a video game, but here they were. Nevertheless, as they continued to talk about the strange monsters from another world, the group''s contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.


    Enni''s eyes lit up as she glanced at the caller ID. "It''s Juho!" she exclaimed, her tone shifting from concern to excitement. Juho, her and Mikael''s older brother, was serving in the professional Finnish army and was typically busy with his own exercises and duties.


    Mikael looked up, a small smile forming on his face. "Juho? Maybe he''s calling to congratulate me," he mused, feeling a surge of pride at the thought of his brother acknowledging his completion of conscription.


    However, as Enni answered the phone, her expression quickly shifted from excitement to worry. "Juho? What do you mean, ''turn on the TV''?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and concern.


    After a brief conversation, she hung up and walked over to the television. "Juho said to switch to the news. Something''s happening," she said, her voice laced with unease.


    The room grew quiet as everyone''s attention turned to the television. Enni changed the channel to a news station, where an emergency NATO announcement was being broadcasted. The NATO Secretary-General, a former Swedish General named Gustav Lindberg, stood near the podium, addressing his colleagues in Brussels, Belgium, the headquarters of NATO.


    Camera¡¯s snapped incessantly and whispers all around the grand hall resounded as the camera focused on General Lindberg. His expression was grave, and the urgency in his voice was unmistakable.


    And then the room came to an intense quiet as Secretary General Lindberg stepped towards the podium.


    The Secretary General looked out at the audience with a steady and resolute gaze before he turned slightly to acknowledge the cameras that were live-streaming his address to millions worldwide. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing slightly in the hushed room.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the North Atlantic Council and allies across the globe," he began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that filled the room.


    In every house, in every room, breathes were collectively held as the Secretary General paused, adjusting and readying himself for his next few words. It was as if the world itself had stopped to listen. Mikael, along with his family and friends, leaned in closer, their eyes fixated on the screen.


    "I address you today in Brussels, the heart of our sacred alliance, under unprecedented circumstances.¡± The audience, a mix of hardened journalists and seasoned diplomats, stiffened as they listened. ¡°As our meeting is being live-streamed to millions across the world." His eyes briefly glanced at a screen showing images of dragons in the skies and mythical creatures on the streets. "Screens in homes and public spaces alike are filled with images that defy belief. Creatures of myth and legend soaring through the skies and walking through the streets."


    "We find ourselves in a moment of history that we, in a thousand years, could never have even fathomed." He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "The United States of America, a pillar of our alliance, has endured an unprovoked and barbaric attack that claimed the lives of thousands and displaced countless others.¡±


    Mikael''s heart pounded in his chest as he listened, the words of the Secretary General painting a stark and harrowing picture. He could see the disbelief and worry etched on the faces of his family and friends.


    ¡°Even now, the death count rises as emergency services continue to identify the fallen.¡± The Secretary General said with a cold, yet calm rage in his voice. ¡°This is not merely an act of war as we know it. This is an invasion of our reality by forces unknown and beyond our current understanding."


    "The North Atlantic Treaty Organization," Lindberg continued, "has always stood for the collective defense of our member states against any threat to their territorial integrity and security. And today, our great and esteemed ally has invoked Article 5 of the Washington Treaty.¡±


    The room fell into a stunned silence as they all looked at each other. A loud yet hushed murmur then swept the grand hall as Lindberg stood patiently for a moment before his powerful voice resounded once more.


    ¡°And we WILL answer that call.¡± He said grabbings at the edges of the podium.


    Secretary General Lindberg''s presence on the screen emanated a sense of calm determination, his words carefully chosen to convey both the gravity of the situation and the strength of NATO''s resolve. "At this very moment," he asserted, "we are mobilizing NATO forces to extend our full support and aid to the United States in response to this threat. Our unity is our strength, and together we will work tirelessly to safeguard our people and uphold the principles we hold dear."


    He continued with a steady voice  imbued with a sense of righteousness, "This is an extraordinary situation that demands an extraordinary response. Our alliance, forged through the fires of war and tempered in the commitment to peace and security, is now faced with a challenge unlike any we have ever known. But I assure you, we are prepared to meet this challenge with unwavering resolve and an unshakable commitment."


    He looked directly into the camera, his eyes conveying a fierce determination. "To the people of the United States of America, I say this: You are not alone. We stand united, and unbreakable."


    ¡°To our citizens watching, to our allies, and to the world, let it be known: NATO stands together or not at all.¡± His voice grew firmer.


    Turning a page on his stack of papers, Lindberg wore a solemn yet determined expression. "We are convening an emergency session to coordinate our response and mobilize our forces.¡± He said, lifting the page and tapping it on the podium to straighten them. ¡°We will then provide support, share intelligence, and deploy the necessary resources to aid our American allies."


    The room was silent, each word resonating with profound significance. "In accordance with the principles of the North Atlantic Treaty and in response to this situation, I officially invoke Article 5. An attack on one is an attack on all."


    The Secretary General paused briefly, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "This evening, I will be informing the Secretary General of the United Nations of our decision and the steps we are taking. We will work closely with our international partners to address this crisis in a unified and coordinated manner."


    Lindberg then straightened up, his eyes scanning the room one last time. "Thank you," he said simply, before turning and stepping away from the podium and walking away.


    Pulling out the device, his eyes quickly scanned the screen, lighting up with a flood of notifications. His commander''s name flashed repeatedly, accompanied by a daunting tally: 20 missed calls and a solitary text message. The room''s attention shifted to him, a mix of concern and curiosity etched on their faces.


    Before anyone could voice the myriad of questions hanging in the air, Mikael broke the silence with a quiet, somber tone.


    "They¡¯re calling me back," he said, his eyes not leaving the screen. "I have orders to return to the barracks by tomorrow morning."

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter: 32

    It was the 6th of February, 202X, seven months after the Ohio incident - an event that would be etched in the annals of history as a turning point for humanity. Once oblivious to the existence of other realms, the world was violently awakened by the rift that opened in the lands of Cambridge, Ohio. From this tear in reality, dragons, once thought to be the mere fabric of legend, poured forth, bringing armies and a tide of monstrous creatures with them.


    The initial chaos was overwhelming. These creatures of myth and nightmare descended upon the Earth, igniting suburbs and initiating a desperate struggle to prevent their advance. The United States Armed Forces, in an unprecedented display of tenacity and valor, managed to hold off these invaders, preventing them from reaching major cities and causing untold devastation. This valiant defense, however, was just the beginning of a much larger conflict.


    In response to this extraordinary threat, for the second time in history, Article 5 of the NATO treaty was invoked, marking a historic and unprecedented response. This call to arms saw the largest military buildup of Allied forces since the days of World War II. It turned what was once the small, humble town of Cambridge, Ohio, into a monolithic and monstrous military base. The original landscape of this quiet country town was replaced with a sprawling expanse of tents, barracks, runways, and armaments.


    Soldiers, tanks, aircraft, and state-of-the-art military technology from across the globe convened here, all maneuvering in the countryside in preparation for what many knew, deep down, what was to come. As strategists and military leaders from NATO member states, alongside their counterparts from non-NATO nations, gathered to plan and coordinate, the word counteroffensive was on the tongue of every service member regardless of their rank.


    But beyond the visible bustle of the sprawling military bases, a different facet of this conflict unfolds in secrecy and precision. Special Operations forces, comprising highly trained and elite units, operated on the fringes of known territories. Their missions, shrouded in the utmost confidentiality, were pivotal to the broader strategy of the allied forces.


    And under cover of night, these clandestine forces convened en masse at a predesignated staging area, preparing for deployment. Some were checking their equipment while Helicopters with their rotors already spinning, waited patiently while casting tempestuous whirlwinds that whipped through the assembly area, stirring up dust and debris.


    Other operators busied themselves around a fleet of light-skinned, all-terrain vehicles of varying sizes bristling with mounted machine guns, automatic grenade launchers, and other heavy weaponry.


    ¡°God fucking damn piece of shit¡­!¡± Elijah cursed ineligible under his breath as he did his best to secure another large ammo box full of .50 Caliber rounds to the roof of a Ground Mobility Vehicle (GMV)


    The GMV was already heavily laden with equipment, so the task of securing additional gear was quite the challenge. Every inch of space was utilized, with jerry cans of fuel and water strapped tightly against the sides.


    ¡°It¡¯s like they¡¯re expecting us to engage an entire fucking army or something.¡± Bennett groaned over the vibrating hum of  the idling engine as he sat in the driver seat.


    Elijah glanced over at the other three GMVs, their configurations slightly varying but equally imposing. Two of them sported the latest MK47 grenade launchers, their sleek, deadly forms rested menacingly on top of the turret. The third GMV, however, was something to behold. It was equipped with a M134 Minigun and its multiple barrels promising a veritable wall of bullets.


    As he finished securing the ammo box, Elijah''s attention was drawn to Coleman, who was engaged in a lively discussion with a group of SEALs. Their gestures and nods indicated a rather serious discussion about the upcoming operation and every so often, they would point towards a heavily modified Chinook helicopter, belonging to the elite 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR).


    ¡°What do you think they¡¯re talkin¡¯ about?¡± Elijah asked, resting his arms and head on top of the M2 .50 Caliber machine gun as it pointed harmlessly towards the sky.


    Bennet turned his head and squinted. ¡°I dunno, probably something about sucking dicks or some shit.¡±


    Nodding in agreement, Elijah rubbed his beard in contemplation. ¡°I see, I see¡­¡± He replied with a smirk. ¡°That certainly makes sense since SEALs are ¡®seamen.¡¯¡±


    Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Elijah cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. He took a deep breath and then shouted across the staging area, "Hey Mack, stop sucking so many dicks and you wouldn''t need army guys to help you!"


    His voice carried across the staging area, loud enough to turn a few heads. The SEALs and Coleman paused in their discussion, looking over in Elijah''s direction. A mix of amusement and mock indignation played across their faces, as the SEAL Elijah was talking to simply held up a middle finger in retaliation and went back to his discussion.


    The members of the ODA team, who had been paying attention to the spectacle, couldn''t help but chuckle at Elijah''s random outburst. Even some of the SEALs jabbed mack in the side and started poking fun.


    With his equipment snuggly secured, Elijah ducked down from the turret with a smirk on his face at his handiwork and turned around to double check his gear. As he rifled through his equipment, he turned his head towards his Medpack and froze as his eyes landed on a sight that was both familiar and headache-inducing. There, lounging casually on top of his things, was a small fairy with one leg crossed over the other while nonchalantly munching on a cookie.


    ¡°Oh no¡­¡± Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    The fairy, Yanaiy¨¢niuoa, or Yana as she was often called, looked up at Elijah with a gleam in her eyes and hummed contentedly as her wings fluttered slightly. "Human food is just¡­ absolutely divine," she exclaimed with an enthusiastic chirp. "I don''t know how you manage to make something so simple taste so good!"


    Taken aback by her sudden appearance, Elijah finally dropped his hand and shook his head. "Yana, what are you doing here?¡± he asked, completely exasperated.


    Yana giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. "Oh, you know, just popping in to see what my favorite mortal is doing," she said, taking another comically large bite.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be doing¡­¡± Elijah waved his hand dismissively in the direction of the sprawling base, ¡°whatever it is you do with your new servants or whatever?¡±


    An irritated look spread across the fairy¡¯s face as she lifted an eyebrow and turned to her apostle. ¡°Eh?¡± She grunted before finishing her cookie.¡± Why would I waste my time with them when all they do is¡­ train or¡­ study or whatever it is mortals do to not be useless.¡± Her gaze flitted across the bustling base, then settled back on him. ¡°Plus, whatever YOU do is vastly more interesting.¡±


    The man knew that Yana''s presence was going to complicate things by an order of magnitude. Coupled with the fact that the little goddess was both loud and aloof, made her presence all but certain to end in disaster for their more quiet and clandestine operations.


    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but put his head in his hands and muttered, "God, Jesus, just fucking smite me already."


    Unfazed by his exasperation, Yana narrowed her eyes at her Apostle. "Hey, hey! I''m your deity now, so you should be praying to me!¡± She chided, bouncing her foot up and down as one leg rested on the other. ¡°Besides, I know how to be quiet while you do your weird sneaky stuff.¡±


    Coleman suddenly hopped into the vehicle, breaking the momentary silence. "Alright, what''s the word?" he asked, looking around quickly. ¡°We good to go?¡±


    Before Elijah could reply, Bennett immediately blurted out from the passenger seat, "The damn fairy''s here."


    Raising an eyebrow, Coleman turned his head to look at Yana, who just sat there nonchalantly. "Oh, fuckin¡¯...," Coleman said dryly, pushing his fingers into his eyes. "Just what we fuckin¡¯ need right now. A psychotic fairy."


    ¡°Hiiiii!¡± Yana waved cheerfully at Coleman, her playful demeanor showing no signs of waning. "Don''t worry, you won''t even notice me!" she proclaimed, although the twinkle in her eye suggested she might have other plans. ¡°You people still haven¡¯t told me what ¡®fuck¡¯ means!¡±


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    Glancing at Elijah, Coleman could help but shake his head and let out a resigned sigh. "Okay¡­ This is gonna be a long night," he muttered under his breath.


    Elijah, looking equally resigned, gave Yana a stern look. "Yana, seriously, You need to stay out of sight and, more importantly, stay quiet," he said, emphasizing each word.¡±I don¡¯t want to get killed just because you¡¯d thought it¡¯d be funny.¡±


    Yana scoffed and threw up her hand dramatically as if she was agreeing to something unreasonable. " Ugh, fine, fine. I''ll be good." she said, crossing arms over her chest.


    As the clock struck midnight, the atmosphere at the staging area turned into a hive of activity. Coleman glanced at his watch, noting the exact time as the rotors of the helicopters, both from the elite 160th SOAR and regular Army units, began to lift off in groups. Their powerful blades cut through the night air, creating a symphony of mechanical roars that signified the start of the operation.


    Taking his seat in the passenger side of the GMV, Coleman adjusted the M240B machine gun mounted on the door so he could access it with ease. The weapon, a reliable mainstay of the U.S. military, was a comforting presence and with a practiced hand, he checked the feed tray and slapped the side of the gun affectionately.


    "Alright, let''s get this show on the road." Coleman said pushing down on his push-to-talk with his other hand.


    Meanwhile, Elijah finished up his conversation with the impish Yana and clambered back up into the turret. The night air was cool against his skin as he settled into his position while his hands found their familiar places on the .50 Cal Browning M2 machine gun. With a mighty tug, he pulled back the charging handle twice and chambered a round with a satisfying clunk.


    As the GMV roared to life, they joined an entire convoy of similarly equipped vehicles and the ODA team felt a mix of adrenaline and anticipation as they headed into the unknown. The territory beyond the rift was a land where the rules of engagement were that of the wild west. But one thing was certain ¨C it was going to be one hell of a ride.


    A smirk flitted across Elijah¡¯s face as he tilted down his Night Optical Devices (NODs) and surveyed the area. The night vision equipment bathed the surroundings in a ghostly white hue and orange thermal silhouettes, revealing details that were invisible to the naked eye. He watched as the convoy began to split, each element branching off towards their respective objectives.


    The Operational Detachment-Alpha (ODA) team he was a part of was tasked with a critical reconnaissance mission. Their objective was to infiltrate deep into enemy-held territory, gather intelligence on enemy dispositions, and assess the feasibility of potential infiltration routes for the upcoming counter offensive.


    While the ODA team ventured towards their designated area of operation (AO), the charged atmosphere of anticipation and excitement was palpable among each member. And this was only amplified by the sudden thunderous roars that filled that night sky as AC-130J Ghostriders pierced through the rift. The notorious aircraft, renowned for their devastating firepower and endurance, flew low as they entered the new realm, escorted by several flights of F-35¡¯s and F-15¡¯s that were completely loaded with anti-aircraft missiles.


    Once the formation was sure they were through to the other side, the team watched as the fighter escorts pulled up hard and burned, climbing high into the sky. Their aim was to establish air superiority quickly and violently to ensure the safety of the Ghostriders so in turn, the large formidable aircrafts could ensure the safety of the troops on the ground.


    ¡°They¡¯re about to kill every-god-damn-thing.¡± Elijah said in admiration with a smile on his face as he looked up at the Angels of Death ascending into the heavens. ¡°God I¡¯m fucking jealous.¡±


    Coleman looked over his shoulder at his medic and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Somethin¡¯s wrong with you, you know that?¡±


    Elijah simply replied back with a grin. "Hey man, it¡¯s not my fault I appreciate the art of rapid human decommissioning," he replied, his tone light but with an undercurrent of sincerity.


    In their line of work, an appreciation for the grim reality of conflict was a given, and Elijah''s respect for the air support''s capabilities was both professional and practical.


    At that moment, Yana, perched casually on the edge of Elijah''s equipment pack, let out a melodic chuckle as she reached out and patted his head. "Good boy, Eli, very good boy," she cooed in a loving voice, her small hand gently patting his head. ¡°You will make a very good apostle.¡±


    Bennett''s voice cut through the chatter from the driver''s seat, his tone a mix of humor and incredulity. "Having a literal immortal deity talking about how happy she is that her human''s a murder hobo is some crazy cult shit."


    ¡°Shut the fuck up, Ben.¡± Elijah shot back as he scanned their surroundings. ¡°Nobody asked you.¡±


    Yana was in the turret with Elijah when her wings fluttered with amusement before droppin down so she was upside down staring at Bennett. "Ya! Shut up, Ben!" she exclaimed, pointing at the man in a gesture  of mock indignation. But then she turned back to Elijah with a genuinely curious expression on her face. ¡°Wait, what does ''fuck'' mean?" she asked innocently.


    Caught off guard by the question, Elijah rotated the turret towards the treeline focused on a few orange silhouettes of animals darting away from the sound of their vehicles. "God, it¡¯d be really damn nice if none of those weasel-bear monster things don¡¯t run up on us." He said, completely avoiding her question.


    Coleman, hearing the mention of the local fauna, chimed in. "Those things are nightmares on legs. Remember the one that snuck up on that Canadian patrol?"


    As Yana playfully hung upside down in the turret, her wings flapped slightly, casting shifting shadows in the dim light of the vehicle''s interior. Her inquisitive eyes were still fixed on Elijah, awaiting an explanation, but Elijah''s attention had shifted entirely.


    "Yeah, that was a mess," Elijah replied, his voice tinged with seriousness as he kept scanning the treeline. "Briefings and warnings can only go so far. Sometimes you just gotta learn the hard way."


    Bennett, navigating the rugged terrain, focused intently on the path ahead. "What kind of psychotic environment does this have to be for a god damn grizzly and a wolverine to exist? Seriously though, it sounds like something out of a shitty video game," he commented, as they went over a rough patch of terrain.


    Narrowing her eyes at Elijah, Yana decided to take a more direct approach and flitted over to the man and landed squarely on top of the feed tray of the mounted heavy machine gun. Putting her hands firmly planted on her hips, the fairy¡¯s wings fluttered with irritation.


    "Eli! You''re ignoring me again!" she accused, her voice rising above the hum of the vehicle and the distant thud of helicopter rotors. "I asked you a question, and I demand an answer!"


    Elijah murmured in discontentment as he looked away from the small, indignant goddess standing boldly in front of him. "Yana, we''re kind of busy here, you know," Elijah tried to explain in an avoidant tone.


    However, Yana seemed unswayed as her gaze narrowed further. "I¡¯m your goddess, ya know," she stated matter-of-factly. "You should multi-task for me, ya know!"


    An exhausted sigh left Elijah''s mouth as he faced the persistent deity in front of him. He rubbed his forehead just knowing the unending disaster that would unfold if this diminutive menace ever found out what the word meant.


    "Alright, Yana," Elijah said with a mixture of resignation and cunning in his voice. "How about this? I''ll give you another one of those cookies you like so much if you... let''s say... ''gracefully shut the fuck up¡¯ for the rest of the ride. Deal?"


    The offer seemed to catch Yana off guard. Her eyes lit up at the mention of cookies, a known weakness of hers. For a moment, she appeared to weigh her options, the desire for the sweet treat battling her inclination to be heard.


    After a brief pause, she nodded enthusiastically, her wings fluttering with excitement. "Deal! But it better be a good cookie, Eli. I have high standards now!"


    ¡°Jesus Christ¡­¡± Coleman shook his head in disbelief. The surrealness of the situation was not lost on him. "I shoulda just got a regular ass job like a normal person," he muttered under his breath, as he adjusted the M240B that was mounted to his door and scanned his sector.


    A strange silence then fell over the vehicle as it crossed the threshold of the rift. The world on the other side was a stark contrast to the one they had just left. The familiar scenery of Ohio was replaced by a landscape that was both alien and beautiful. Towering trees with otherworldly purple leaves, bizarre rock formations that hummed with mystical energy, and a sky that shimmered with unfamiliar constellations.


    The transition from their world to this alien realm was not just a physical shift, but also a temporal one. As the ODA team ventured deeper into this new world, they noticed the abrupt change in the skyline. Despite leaving at midnight, they were greeted with a soft orange glow along the horizon, signaling the sun had just set, and night was swiftly taking over.


    Bennett peered into the fading light, his night optical devices amplifying the dimming twilight and taking in the strange, ethereal light that danced in the stars. "The sun''s just set here," he murmured, his voice low. "We¡¯re gonna be some nasty ass jet lag."


    But those thoughts were soon dispelled as their small convoy continued on their path. Their very first way point was approaching fast and the first phase of the plan was going to soon come to fruition.


    They were to hunker down in a predesignated area and wait for the swarm of Rangers and their air support to execute their part of the operation. The plan was straightforward: while the Rangers and their accompanying air assets, including the AC-130s and F-35¡¯s, engaged key enemy positions, the ODA team would use the ensuing chaos as a cover to slip behind enemy lines undetected.


    It was a sledgehammer like strategy, but the Rangers were known to be the military''s sharpest blunt object.


    As the convoy came to a stop at their waypoint, the team checked and rechecked their gear, ensuring a rapid transition from travel to combat readiness should the worst come to pass. They had trained nearly every day for this operation and they were going to leave absolutely nothing to chance.


    No reason to rush to your death.


    But as they finished their checks, the distant dull thuds of heavy ordinance finally reached them. Looking off into the distance at the intermittent orange glows, the team knew it was just about time for them to get a move on and be the dagger that would be at this army¡¯s back.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 33

    In the southernmost bastion of the Seraphic Empire¡¯s territories, perched atop the ancient fortress walls, stood Ryffka, a scout of the Stymph species. Unlike his human counterparts, Ryffka was adorned with a plumage of teal and white feathers instead of hair, a distinctive trait of his kind.


    Descended from a union of Humans or Elves and Harpies, the Stymphs were lean, petite, and agile. Dyffka moved with a grace that belied his keen alertness as his sharp eyes constantly scanned the horizon.


    Like many of his people, Ryffka was a mage skilled in the arcane and reconnaissance arts; in his hand, he held his trusted blade staff. Even though the focusing stone on his blade staff was modest, his weapon was standard equipment for any war mage or freelancer. The weapon was a testament to practicality and necessity, lessons hard learned over the eons that eventually, a mage would run out of mana. In such a scenario, you couldn¡¯t always count on your mates to save you, and without the means to defend themselves, you were as good as dead. The blade staff addressed this vulnerability with its dual function as a magical focus and melee weapon.


    Ryffka''s hand ran along his weapon, gliding over the worn but sturdy shaft. It led up to a sharp and functional blade yet lacked the ornate craftsmanship seen in the weapons of more affluent mages. The most critical component of the staff is the focusing stone embedded near the blade. It was a simple, inexpensive crystal, but it did its job well enough, and it channeled Ryffka''s magical energies into spells reliably. It was far from the powerful artifacts wielded by high-ranking mages of the Empire, but Ryffka was happy with what he had now.


    At least until he was able to get an upgrade.


    The Stymph had aspirations, though. His service in the Empire''s Auxiliary Corps was not just a duty but a stepping stone. He dreamed of accumulating enough wealth to purchase a blade staff befitting a mage of his skill. A more potent focusing stone, perhaps even one imbued with specific elements he already specialized in, would significantly enhance his magical prowess. With such a weapon in hand, he envisioned himself taking up the life of a freelancer, offering his services to the highest bidder, free from the rigid structure of the Empire''s military.


    As he stood to watch over the fortress walls, his daydreams occupied his mind while the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, covering everything in an ethereal darkness. Ryffka squinted his eyes, focusing on a distant point on the horizon, exploiting his species'' exceptional vision, and once again scanned the horizon. Seeing far beyond ordinary beings'' capabilities was a Stymph''s hallmark. Since he was being paid rather handsomely to man the fortress in this god-awful backwater, he may as well do his job.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why anyone would be stupid enough to attack us¡­¡± Another Auxiliary, a shorter-eared Sun Elf, spoke up with a yawn.


    There was a flicker, a hint of movement so far off that it seemed like a mere speck against the vastness of the landscape.


    Maintaining his vigil, Ryffka turned slightly towards the Sun Elf, now sitting lazily against the wall. "The reports we''ve received paint a terrifying picture of these otherworlders," Ryffka replied, his tone serious and tinged with caution. "Underestimating them would be more than foolish, and I don¡¯t plan to come to an untimely end."


    The Sun Elf, whom Ryffka knew as Talarion, waved a hand dismissively and wore an expression of boredom mixed with disdain. "Those reports are nothing but inflated tales, Ryffka. It''s naive to believe such nonsense," Talarion scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "How can anyone give credence to the ludicrous stories those puffed-up noblemen and Drakonics spout? Even they don''t believe the rubbish they peddle, but duty compels them to regurgitate such garbage."


    Ryffka frowned as his feathers ruffled slightly in irritation. Talarion''s skepticism was not uncommon among their ranks, but the Stymph knew better than to dismiss the potential threat so lightly. "Whether you believe it or not, Talarion, the Empire wouldn''t station us here, at the edge of nowhere, if there weren''t a genuine threat."


    ¡°Gods damn superstitious Stymphs,¡± Talarion snorted, rolling his eyes. "Sure, Ryffka. Keep your eyes peeled for those mythical dragons and monsters. I''ll just be here, enjoying a well-deserved rest. After all, who in their right mind would dare attack an Empire fortress? And even if they did, we¡¯d catch wind of ¡®em comin¡¯ this way before they were a day''s travel away."


    Heaving a sigh, Ryffka turned his gaze back to the horizon to resume his vigil watch. He knew arguing with Talarion was pointless. The Sun Elf''s laziness and skepticism were as steadfast as the fortress walls. Ryffka was well aware of the stereotype Stymphs had for being gullible and naive. However, he couldn''t shake off the unease in his chest. The reports might have been exaggerated, but he couldn''t ignore the nagging feeling that something significant was amiss. His instincts, honed by years of scouting and hunting, warned him of impending and dreadful danger, and no matter what he did, he simply couldn¡¯t shake it.


    As time passed, Ryffka maintained his watchful gaze over the lightly forested plains and the seemingly clear horizon while he stood atop the fortress walls. The night was quiet; the only sounds were the calls of nocturnal creatures and the occasional murmur of soldiers on their rounds. But despite his vigilance, fatigue began to creep in as Ryffka¡¯s eyelids became heavier and heavier.


    Rubbing his eyes to refocus, Ryffka took a deep breath, stretching his wings subtly to ease the tension in his back, but Talarion¡¯s voice suddenly cut through. ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous, Ryffka. Do you think anyone would be mad enough to attack us?¡± He said with a voice laced with arrogance and a hint of mockery. ¡°We may be in some backwater outpost, but we''re still a key stronghold of the Empire."


    He leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxed to the point of being negligent. With a snide chuckle, he continued, "Just half a day''s travel east and west of here are encampments filled with our finest soldiers.¡± Talarien waved his hand dismissively.¡± Not to mention the wyverns and the smaller dragons patrolling the skies. We are an impenetrable bulwark."


    Talarion''s gaze swept dismissively over the horizon. "Honestly, I think you Stymphs take your duties a bit too seriously. But then again, what would one expect from a harpy spawn.¡±


    Ryffka''s feathers bristled at Talarion''s last comment, a mixture of anger and frustration boiling within him. He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but the thunderous roar of a dragon overhead suddenly drowned out his words. Stymph and the Sun Elf instinctively looked up to witness the massive creature beat its wings and rapidly accelerate southwards.


    "What''s got that stupid bundle of scales so riled up?" Talarion grumbled, standing up from his slouched position against the wall.


    Dismissing his compatriot¡¯s disrespectful comments, Ryffka refocused his exceptional vision on the horizon. As he scanned the skies, his sharp eyes caught sight of something¡­ unusual. There, almost invisible against the night sky, were several tiny dots moving swiftly like a flock of birds.


    ¡°Talarion, look!¡± Ryffka pointed towards the distant specks, his voice tense with urgency.


    Narrowing his eyes, Talarion looked in the direction Ryffka was pointing, but his vision paled compared to that of a Stymph. "I can''t see a damn thing, Ryffka. You''re probably just seeing shadows or something," he said, giving the Stymph the side eye.


    Disbelief spread across Ryffka¡¯s face as he stared back. He gestured wildly in the direction of the sky, his movements animated and his feathers fluttering in agitation. "How can you be so blind!? The dragons, the wyverns, they are all reacting! They see it, they sense it!" Ryffka exclaimed, his voice rising in both frustration and alarm.


    His hands moved expressively, almost as if he were trying to paint the situation''s urgency in the air itself. "Even those great beasts of the Empire are acknowledging something out there!" he continued, his gestures becoming more frantic. "How can you just dismiss this as nothing!? This is objective reality staring us right in the face!"


    Talarion watched Ryffka''s meltdown with a mix of concern and skepticism. The Stymph''s distress was palpable, and though Talarion himself couldn''t see what Ryffka was seeing, the unusual behavior of the dragons and wyverns did lend some credence to his claims.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Turning to observe the other spires where lookouts were, Talarion noted the casual glances they gave. the dragons and wyverns before their attention quickly returned to their mundane tasks. "If things are so dire, why does no one else care?" he questioned, his tone laced with doubt.


    However, the Sun Elf shook his head with an expression of resignation. "Fine, we''ll go to the commanders, but it''s your head," Talarion warned, indicating he was still far from convinced.


    Ryffka, in turn, hung his head upwards and exasperatedly dragged a hand across his face. The level of complacency and lack of urgency among his fellow soldiers baffled him. "These¡­ morons¡­" he muttered as a self-deprecating laugh crept out of his mouth. ¡°I guess that¡¯s better than doing nothing and dying horribly.¡±


    A sudden, startling change caught his attention as he returned to the horizon. Bright orange flashes enveloped the dragons and wyverns simultaneously, lighting the night sky. The sight was breathtaking and ominous, and for a moment, Ryffka stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock and realization.


    The dragons and wyverns, previously just distant silhouettes against the night, were now engulfed in flames, their majestic forms twisting and writhing. The dragons screeched in pain and somehow maintained their flight, but the wyverns¡­ were torn asunder and plummeted towards the ground. The sight was apocalyptic, a spectacle of destruction that silenced even the ever-skeptical Talarion.


    In the stillness of the moment, the gravity of the situation finally seemed to dawn on the Sun Elf. Talarion''s eyes were fixed on the falling creatures, his earlier arrogance replaced by a growing sense of dread. And just as he opened his mouth to yell, the delayed deafening and concussive blasts finally hit his body.


    Turning towards the Stymph, Talarion noticed the feathered man was already racing down their spire with a speed he thought impossible for someone so thin.


    Ryffka''s swift movement was a blur of teal and white as he darted down the spire. His every step was driven by urgency, his mind racing and his heart pounding as the other spires finally stirred from their stupor. The flames that had engulfed the dragons and wyverns in the sky were a dire omen, signaling a threat far greater than any of them had anticipated.


    When the Stymph arrived at the few commanders that were on their way into the citadel, he pointed at the sky while sucking in hair. ¡°Th-th-the!¡± He stammered, completely out of breath. "The sky! The dragons! The wyverns!" Ryffka gasped, struggling to articulate the chaos they had witnessed. "They''re under attack! We¡¯re under attack!"


    Taken aback by the sudden intrusion. The commanders quickly turned their attention to the Stymph and the Sun Elf tumbling down the stairs after tripping.


    The disarray was palpable among the officers as they processed Ryffka and Talarion''s report. Despite the clear signs of danger, their response was mired in hesitation while they exchanged bewildered looks.


    "You''re sure it''s an attack?" one of the commanders asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. "It could just be a training exercise gone wrong, or perhaps..."


    Ryffka, still panting from his sprint, interjected with a mix of frustration and urgency. "No! It''s an attack! The dragons, the wyverns... they-they! They exploded!¡± He gestured his arms to make an explosion motion. ¡°We have to act now!¡±


    Despite the sentry¡¯s insistence, the commanders seemed reluctant to initiate a response. They huddled together, discussing the situation in hushed tones marked by a noticeable unease. "Why isn''t anyone else reacting to this?" one of the officers murmured, his eyes darting towards the other spires where they seemed more alert than normal, but weren¡¯t making moves.


    Another commander, his brow furrowed in thought, replied, "We need a consensus from higher command. We can''t just rally the troops based on a single report, no matter how alarming it might be."


    The conversation continued in this vein, with the officers debating the credibility of the report and the appropriate course of action. Ryffka, standing a little off to the side, felt a growing sense of frustration and helplessness as his hands pressed against his head. The sounds of distant explosions echoed through the night, each one seemingly causing a blood vessel to burst in the poor Stymph.


    "We should request an audience with the Seraphic commander," suggested one officer finally. "They''ll have a better grasp of the overall situation and can guide us on what to do."


    The others nodded in agreement, though the decision brought little comfort to Ryffka. The Stymph scout felt as though he was watching precious seconds turn to minutes and the possibility of reacting to this threat slipping away and potentially costing lives the safety of the fortress.


    ¡°Madness¡­.¡± Ryffka muttered, turning his head around the place. ¡°You¡¯re all mad!¡±


    The Stymph¡¯s distress was palpable as he watched the commanders dither, their indecision a stark contrast to the urgency of the situation. The distant rumble of explosions was a relentless reminder that something unprecedented and terrifying was unfolding, yet the officers seemed paralyzed, unable to move beyond their rigid protocols.


    As he turned back to look at the horizon, the night erupted in chaos. Distant spires, which had been quiet and seemingly secure moments before, suddenly exploded into flames, sending debris and sentries flying through the air. The shockwaves of the blasts were felt even from where Ryffka and Talarion stood, and the night sky was illuminated with fiery destruction.


    Before anyone could fully process the devastation, the air was filled with the droning thumps of an unknown force. His eyes widened in disbelief as a massive horde of strange, black flying creatures flooded the area. These weren''t the dragons or wyverns he was familiar with; these were wingless monsters that spewed fire and death from its sides to rain down upon the fortress with unrelenting fury.


    Horrible buzzing noises and staccato of repeated small explosions resounded everywhere he looked as the smaller, more agile creatures darted around the larger beasts, pounding the fortress walls and towers with their strange weapons. The larger flying creatures, meanwhile, hovered over designated spots, dropping ropes from their sides.


    Ryffka watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as humanoid beings dressed in strange irregular foliage colored clothing slid down the ropes, descending upon the fortress like a swarm of vengeful spirits.


    The onslaught was relentless and brutal. The strange beings descended upon the walls, the buildings littering the fortress and even the citadel''s various rooftops and balconies with a terrifying efficiency. They moved with a mechanical and deadly precision that Ryffka had never witnessed before. It was as if they were not of this world, their tactics and weaponry far beyond anything the Empire had ever encountered.


    Talarion, finally catching up to Ryffka, gasped for breath. "What in the world is going on?" he managed to utter, his voice a mix of awe and fear.


    But before Ryffka could even attempt to formulate a response, the air was suddenly filled with a series of horrible hissing and snapping noises. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard, a malevolent chorus that chilled him to the bone.


    Recognizing the sounds of small projectiles moving extremely fast, Ryffka grabbed Talarion and pulled him to the ground. "Down, now!" he screeched, as he pulled his scout partner face first into the dirt.


    That act alone had saved their lives, for as they hit the ground, Ryffka''s sharp eyes watched as the group of officers who had been debating their response to the crisis, suddenly gasped and yelped in pain. He watched in horror as they clutched their bodies, stumbling back into the citadel proper, their uniforms stained with sudden blooms of red.


    Never in his life had he been thankful for enduring the horrors of those gods forsaken goblins during the Empire''s previous pacification endeavors, because he knew exactly what to do next.


    Run.


    Ryffka''s instincts screamed at him to move, to escape the deadly storm of whatever in the infinite hells was raining down around them. With a firm grip on Talarion''s arm, he hauled the Sun Elf to his feet and sprinted with all the speed and agility his Stymph heritage granted him. Their movements were frantic and desperate as they evaded the hissing and snapping that seemed to follow them like a malevolent shadow.


    All around them, the scene was one of utter chaos and despair. His fellow soldiers, brothers-in-arms, were caught unprepared, their attempts at defense crumbling under the relentless assault of the green-clad invaders. Many collapsed after their bodies were wracked with the impact of the strange and lethal projectiles, and the two balked at their cries of pain and pleas for help.


    With a mix of fear and adrenaline fueling his rapid flight, Ryffka''s heart pounded in his chest. And as he dared a glance over his shoulder, his sight was greeted with more explosions that rocked the citadel. This was followed by green figures pouring into the fortress while their strange weapons spat fire and death with every step they took as they breached and entered the citadel on multiple floors.


    "See! Those gods-damned reports weren''t exaggerated!" Ryffka yelled at Talarion with a bitter mixture of panic and vindication. "I knew something horrible was going to happen!"


    Talarion, however, was screaming like a banshee the entire time as he did his best to keep up with Ryffka, stumbling around As the two navigated through the crumbling fortress.


    The echoes of gunfire and explosions pierced the night air as the two scrambled away, Dodging debris and navigating through the destruction and toward a specific part of the walls. There, Ryffkas knew that part of the fortress had a narrow hole they could fit through due to the shoddy construction of the Kobold slaves that manned that area.


    Without hesitation, Ryffka led Talarion through the gap, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats as they made their escape, fueled by a primal urge to survive. Once outside the fortress, they found themselves on the edge of a dense treeline, and without looking back, the men ran for their lives.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 34

    Elijah gazed at the soft hues of dawn that painted the morning sky. It was a serene backdrop to the stark reality on the ground as four GMVs, bristling with weaponry and equipment, made their way across the hilly plains. Each bump and dip was a reminder of the rugged and untamed landscape they found themselves in, where everything they passed was as novel as the next.


    The night before had been a strategic dance of observation and patience. Hidden away in their makeshift camp, they had deployed drones to keep a vigilant eye on the enemy army encampment. The small, buzzing machines, almost invisible in the night sky, relayed valuable information about enemy movements and reactions.


    As the reports came in, the ODA team listened intently as sadistic smiles played on their lips. The enemy was caught off guard by the 75th Ranger Regiment¡¯s sudden and brutal raids on their fortresses and found themselves thrown into disarray. Their commanders quickly found themselves face to face with a dilemma in which they had to decide which fortress stood and which one fell.


    However, contrary to what NATO''s unified command had predicted, the armies of the Empire instead chose to make the worst possible decision after allowing precious hours to tick by, muddled by indecision. Instead of sacrificing one or two fortresses, the commanders of the Empire finally resolved their indecisiveness and opted to split their forces in an attempt to support all four beleaguered locations.


    As the GMVs trundled across the landscape, the members of the ODA team couldn''t help but let out bursts of laughter after hearing the AC-130 gunners over the tactical network. The bastards were cackling each time they unleashed hell upon the legions of men, beasts, and equipment marching towards the besieged fortresses.


    ¡°You think the Rangers killed everything?¡± Elijah asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.


    Coleman peered out into the distance and eyed the rising plumes of smoke that painted against the morning sky. "Probably, but I think those AC-130s pretty much cleared the board," Coleman replied, turning his head to relax again.


    With the patrols sufficiently preoccupied or outright destroyed, the Special Forces team could finally fulfill the objectives succinctly outlined in their operational charter: no-holds-barred unconventional warfare.


    In other words, the ODA team was about to engage in the kind of operations that fell into a gray area. Instead of being a blunt object and subsequently thrown at an objective to destroy it, their mission was a lot less defined by military doctrine. For now, they were more or less tasked to map enemy territory. But¡­ if the opportunity ever presented itself, they would be cut loose and do what the Army Special Forces were initially designed to do and be an absolute MENACE in the enemy''s rear.


    Gather intelligence, disrupt enemy supply lines, subvert the civilian population to turn them against the local regime, and destabilize command structures through any means necessary.


    As the team''s GMVs maneuvered through the soft rolling hills, they came across a dirt road that told a brutal story. The scene was a macabre tableau of destruction and death as bodies of various beings¡ªhumanoids in armor, colossal beasts of burden-carrying carts imbued with magic, and war-bred monsters¡ªwere strewn across the road, dead or dying.


    ¡°God damn¡­¡± Bennett cringed as he did his best to avoid the bodies and¡­ body parts littering the area. ¡°You¡¯d think they''d have learned not to bunch up like sitting ducks when they first invaded."


    Perched in the turret, Elijah surveyed the scene with a mix of professional detachment. "Yeah, fucking sucks to be caught out in the open like that," he said, his voice carrying a flat and uncaring tone as he adjusted the turret. The man kept the heavy machine gun trained on a giant beast still moving while he scanned the area to ensure there wouldn''t be any nasty surprises.


    As the team found a gap in the enemy lines and slipped through, they entered deep behind enemy territory. This was where their true work began.


    But when it was their turn to cross the road finally, the GMV jolted as they ran over something¡­ or someone. The sickening crunch and the violent bump prompted Elijah''s pocket to stir.


    ¡°Wuh¡­.¡± Yana¡¯s diminutive form emerged from Elijah''s pocket as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. But as she turned around, she nearly gasped at the sight of the destruction. "Ooooh! Excellent! Truly excellent!!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of glee and awe.


    "Did you do this?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Elijah with an expectant look.


    Elijah, surveying the scene with a practiced eye, shook his head. "No, I didn''t. But, uh, things belonging to my government did," he explained simply.


    Yana''s excitement seemed to double at this revelation. "Excellent! I knew my investment would bear fruit!" she flourished as she climbed out and buzzed around.


    In a swift, graceful motion, Yana extended her arms as her wings started beating rapidly while she elevated high into the sky. With her tiny form becoming a focal point, the fairy began to chant in a strange and ethereal language that sounded almost musical and otherworldly to all but Elijah, who furrowed his brows at the familiar yet alien cadence.


    Her voice was beautiful and haunting as it carried across the field of death. "Oh, spirits of the fallen, you who linger in the shadow of betrayal," she sang, her voice echoing mystically. "Your false gods have forsaken you, leaving you to fester and rot in this mortal coil. Come to me, find solace in my embrace, for I offer you a place in my realm."


    A strange ethereal energy rose from the bodies scattered across the battlefield. It swirled around Yana, forming a vortex of shimmering light and shadow.


    The air around them seemed to shimmer as Yana''s chant continued, her words weaving a spell of enticement and empathy. Slowly, a few barely visible wisps of light answered her call, drifted toward the fairy¡¯s diminutive form, and swirled around her, forming a contradictory vortex of shimmering light and shadow. Even a few dying people were drawn in by her enchanting song and drifted over after releasing their final breaths. Their spirits joined the swirling dance of energy around the fairy.


    As Yana''s chant continued, her voice became a beacon for the restless souls strewn across the battlefield. "It matters not what form you held in life, be you weak or powerful, beggar or king," she proclaimed, her voice resonating with an otherworldly power. "All are equal before the eyes of High Judge Yanaiy¨¢niuoa. Shed your mortal bonds, discard your corrupted idols, and ascend to a realm where your essence will find true equality and peace."


    Her words seemed to resonate with a deeper truth, echoing through the very essence of the deceased. More souls, drawn to the promise of liberation and equality, began to release themselves from their mortal shells. The energy around Yana grew denser and more vibrant, a stunning display of light and spectral beauty as more spirits joined her call.


    The air around them seemed to shimmer as Yana''s chant continued, her words weaving a spell of enticement and empathy. Slowly, a strange ethereal energy slowly rose from the bodies scattered across the battlefield. It swirled around Yana, forming a vortex of shimmering light and shadow.


    The entire convoy had come to a complete stop as they gawked at the spectacle before them. The soldiers in the convoy exchanged bewildered looks, their expressions a mix of confusion and awe.


    ¡°Does anyone else have a visual on this?¡± Their local squad network crackled to life. ¡°What the fuck is happening? Should we bug out?¡±


    No one could understand the words Yana was saying, but they sure as hell could see the vortex floating just above them.


    Coleman grabbed his pushed-to-talk while he continued to stare at the mesmerizing scene. ¡°I uh¡­ Hold one.¡± The team leader said hesitantly, his eyes still fixed on the spectacle. "It''s uh, it''s our... ''guest''," he explained with a mix of confusion and reluctance in his voice. "Seems like she''s doing something with the dead."


    The network remained silent for a moment, the other units processing the information. "Roger that," came the eventual response, tinged with disbelief.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Elijah, meanwhile, experienced a sensation that was both alien and intimate. As the energy swirled around Yana, he felt a faint echo of it being drawn into him. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible feeling but unmistakably real. There was a tether, a connection between him and his patron, through which some essence of the absorbed souls seemed to flow into him.


    He cringed at the unnerving sensation. The mystical energy was foreign to his nature, and its passage through the tether created a discomfort that was hard to ignore. Yet, as much as he wanted to recoil from it, a part of him understood this connection was an integral aspect of his bond with Yana.


    The rest of the convoy, oblivious to Elijah''s internal struggle, remained fixated on the display. They muttered among themselves, trying to understand what they were witnessing. "What the hell is she doing?" one of them whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of fear and fascination.


    As the ritual reached its zenith, Yana gently descended back to the ground, her wings fluttering softly, leaving the battlefield eerily silent. The ODA team, on the other hand, had remained still for a few moments, processing the otherworldly event.


    ¡°Mmmm¡­. Delicious.¡± Yana licked her lips as she took a seat on Elijah¡¯s shoulders. ¡°The usurpers are as wasteful as ever it seems.¡±


    A mix of skepticism and curiosity clouded Elijah¡¯s eyes as he watched Yana. He glanced down at his hand, the same spot where she had ''branded'' him, while the strange sensation lingered.


    "Did you... eat their souls, like that one scientist guy back home?" Elijah asked, his tone cautious yet inquisitive. The notion of consuming souls was unsettling, but he needed to understand what had just transpired.


    Yana scoffed at the question, her expression one of mild amusement mixed with a touch of annoyance. "No, I did not ''eat'' their souls," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you take me for? An idiot?¡± She said, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°All I did was just offer some guidance. These souls were merely ushered back into the cycle, to be reborn or to do whatever it is they wish to do next."


    One leg crossed the other as her wings fluttered gently. "I merely took a slice of the power they had accumulated over their lifetimes as a form of payment for guiding them. It''s a fair exchange, in my opinion."


    Looking at Elijah more annoyedly, the fairy continued, "The fool back in your world, on the other hand, I destroyed his soul because he willingly gave me permission to." She harrumphed and looked away.


    Elijah scratched his beard, considering Yana''s explanation. The concept of the soul was far beyond his understanding, but he wanted to try and grasp the basics. "So, can all gods or whatever do that?" he asked, his tone indicating a mix of curiosity and concern. "Guide or destroy souls, I mean."


    The violet glow made it difficult to see, but the goddess clearly rolled her eyes in a clear sign of exasperation. "No, not all ''gods'' can do that," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. ¡°True gods like myself, that lazy, dusty old ball of light and a few others who don''t even bother with mortals, can do stuff with souls. But most of these mortal pretenders?¡± She gestured around towards the field. ¡°They lack the power or the inclination to do anything but hoard and slowly nibble away at a fraction of the power.¡±


    Having overheard the conversation, both Coleman and Bennet couldn¡¯t help but give the little goddess a complicated look. The concept of supernatural beings talking about souls as tangible objects was a lot to process.


    With a shake of his head, Coleman dismissed the bizarre supernatural experience and grabbed his push to talk. "Alright, we''re good. Let''s keep it moving," he ordered.


    Turning back to face the road, Bennett let out a nervous sigh and threw the vehicle back into drive. He followed the vehicle in front of him as they made their way through the somber aftermath of the battle. The convoy decided to put this little fiasco in the back of their mind as they resumed their mission, winding through the death and debris left in the wake of the AC-130¡¯s intense bombardment.


    And as they drove, Coleman couldn''t help but look over his shoulder at the carnage they had just passed. The scene was a stark reminder of modern warfare''s power and efficiency in contrast to their enemy''s full-blown fantasy elements. It was clear they hadn¡¯t even considered the possibility of not dominating the air, considering how clustered they were. Coleman thought they couldn¡¯t even fully grasp the concept of long-range ordinance and waited for what they must have assumed was a strange dragon to get close enough to return fire with magic.


    But, he glanced up towards Yana, who was perched nonchalantly on Elijah''s shoulders; he felt something foreboding about the presence of the little goddess. She was both whimsical and terrifying in equal measure, and there was an unknown yet powerful¡­ aura¡­ about her that was fascinating and unsettling. Coleman knew in his gut that Yana''s presence signified something profound, but whether that would lead to fortune or misfortune was yet to be determined.


    To keep himself steady, Coleman held onto the frame of the GMV as they rolled over a berm and drove back into open territory. It was so¡­ beautiful and serene that it made one almost forget why they were there and what circumstance they were in. If he could compare it to anything, it would have been a wonderful blend of the northern plains of China with strange and wondrous mountains flanking them on one side, coupled with the warm, temperate climate of the Mediterranean.


    Nevertheless, this beautiful and strange new world couldn''t stop Coleman''s mind from churning. The words the fairy used weren''t lost on him, and they painted a picture of a conflict that far exceeded the imaginations of even the highest echelons of command. The terms'' usurpers'' and ''mortal pretenders'' hinted at a deeper, more ancient struggle that they may have stumbled into, and it raised critical questions about their role in this world.


    Were they being put into a position where they were going to have to pick a side? Or perhaps that their mere association with Yana had already dictated their side.


    Coleman shook his head as the convoy moved towards the horizon and refocused on the mission. These were questions for his superiors; he was just another cog in the machine, and it was about time he started acting like it. They had supply lines to disrupt, outposts to harass, and chaos to sow.


    -


    ¡°Talarion¡­¡± A voice called out in the periphery of Talarion¡¯s consciousness.


    But no matter what he did or where he looked, he couldn''t find the voice as the monstrous black, wingless birds descended upon them again. They were not creatures of flesh and blood but of twisted iron, a horror unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined.


    The deafening thumps and the overwhelming downwash these monstrosities produced filled his senses. He could almost feel the hot gusts of wind on his skin, the vibrations shaking his very soul. But even more terrifying was the horrendous buzzing noise, a sound that heralded death and destruction.


    He couldn''t help but clutch his ears when he saw fire erupting from the sides of these strange birds, taking souls like the reaper of death. Each burst of flame was accompanied by a harrowing sound, a cacophony that mowed down his comrades with ruthless efficiency. Men and women, warriors and mages of the Empire, were cut down like wheat before the scythe. Some were riddled with holes, turning into a morbid pile of flesh, while others were literally cleaved in half, their bodies falling apart in a gruesome display of brutality.


    Talarion had tried to run, he tried to escape the relentless assault of these wingless birds, but his legs wouldn''t move. He was rooted to the spot, forced to witness the carnage unfolding around him. The screams of his fallen comrades echoed in his ears, a haunting chorus that seemed to condemn him for his earlier skepticism and inaction.


    ¡°Talarion, wake up.¡± The voice called again, more urgently this time. It was a familiar voice, one that he recognized even in his panicked state. But the grip of fear was strong, and he struggled to break free from the terror¡¯s unyielding hold.


    And if the horrible buzzing of death wasn¡¯t enough, ropes were suddenly thrown from the sides of these black, iron beasts as men clad in green slid down before their black staves barked with fire as well. These were not the soldiers of any army he had seen in these barbaric lands; they were something else entirely, something more deadly and efficient.


    Everywhere Talarion looked, the scene repeated itself. These green-clad warriors ruthlessly laid waste to anyone and anything visible. They were like a force of nature, unstoppable and unrelenting.


    It wasn¡¯t until that stupid Stymph, with his annoying stupid teal plumage that kept poking Talarion in the face, finally grabbed his arm, yanking him out of his daze. Talarion''s body was suddenly jolted into action as Ryffka took him away from the scene of carnage, snapping whatever mental bonds had been binding his legs.


    The sounds of battle and the hiss of the strange weapons were a chaotic backdrop as Ryffka dragged him away from his inevitable death. Every step was a struggle against the overwhelming desire to-


    ¡°You damned Elf! Wake up!¡± A sudden slap rang across Talarion''s face, breaking through his nightmare.


    An involuntary, high-pitched shriek that was embarrassingly unbecoming of a seasoned warrior of the Auxiliary Corp left Talarion''s mouth as his eyes snapped open.


    Fueled by fear and panic, Talarion''s arms flailed wildly as he rolled away from the Stymph. As he rolled, the Elf slammed hard against a tree, causing the man to let another embarrassing yelp out as he cradled his head. Without thinking, Talarion curled up, covering his head with his hands, bracing for an attack that wouldn''t come.


    "Stop it, Talarion! It''s me, Ryffka!" the Stymph''s face was a mix of disappointment and disbelief while his voice was concerned. "You were having a nightmare. You''re safe now!¡±


    Ryffka then furrowed his brow as he looked to the side in contemplation. ¡°Well¡­ as safe as we can be under these circumstances."


    Looking around, Talarion slowly uncurled from his defensive position, his gaze following Ryffka''s. They were nestled in a small grove while the distant billows of smoke from the fortress painted a grim picture against the sky.


    "We can''t stay here," Ryffka said before a screech of wyverns on patrol resounded overhead. The Stymphs'' eyes shot up before scanning their surroundings with a mix of caution and fear on his face. "The fortress has fallen, and with us fleeing... we''re deserters now."

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter: 35

    Ryffka sighed for what he felt was the thousandth time when his elf compatriot tripped over another exposed root, letting out a string of curses that echoed through the forest.


    ¡°Can you be any louder!?¡± Ryffka hissed, placing a finger to his lips, signaling Talarion to maintain silence. ¡°You¡¯re going to get us killed!¡±


    The elf struggled to get up and shot the Stymph a sour look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m not some light-footed harpy spawn!¡± he retorted, brushing off leaves and picking out twigs off of his laminar armor. Talarion''s frustration was palpable, but it was clear he was trying to regain his composure.


    An annoyed groan left Ryffka¡¯s mouth as he hung his head as he realized that berating Talarion wouldn¡¯t help their situation. ¡°Look, I understand this isn¡¯t easy for you,¡± he said in a more measured tone, ¡°but we need to keep moving. If we¡¯re caught¡­¡±


    His voice trailed off, the implication clear enough without finishing the sentence. The threat of being captured by the patrolling wyverns or the Empire¡¯s various beast riders was a fate best avoided. If they ever managed to be captured, it was all but certain the two would be made an example of why it was unwise to desert your post even in the most hopeless situations.


    Talarion opened his mouth to insult the Stymph and say he never asked to be saved, but the words were caught in his mouth. He was lazy, crass, and crude, but he wasn¡¯t an idiot. If he had to choose between dying pointlessly for an Empire that cared very little for him and becoming a fugitive? Then the choice was simple. He sighed heavily, resigning himself to their current predicament. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he muttered, almost begrudgingly. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    With a grunt, the Elf stood to his feet and brushed his head, shaking off the debris that clung to his short, dark green hair. He then stooped to retrieve his iron kettle hat that had tumbled off in his fall. After placing it back on his head with a firm tug, Talarion¡¯s hands then went to his waist to readjust the thick and rugged two-handed falchion. The straps holding the scabbard in place hand twisted uncomfortably, but as he adjusted it, the familiarity of the weapons weight shot a blast of comfort through him.


    At least he wasn¡¯t unarmed.


    Regardless, Talarion couldn¡¯t help but curse his fate as he followed Ryffka through the dense forest. This assignment had seemed like a golden opportunity initially ¨C an easy post at a remote fortress, far from the front lines of any major conflict. It was supposed to be simple: watch over the lands, keep an eye on any unruly locals, and enjoy some relative peace. But that illusion had shattered spectacularly with the arrival of those black, wingless monstrosities and their horrid passengers.


    The Empire had always seemed invincible in Talarion''s eyes, a mighty force that no one dared challenge. Yet, in mere hours, he had witnessed its formidable fortress being reduced to rubble. The brutal efficiency of the attackers, clad in their foliage patterned uniforms, had been a shock to his system.


    Internally, Talarion was grateful to Ryffka for pulling him out of the fortress before it was too late. Despite the fact he thought of them being abominable half-breeds, the Stymph had acted decisively and had saved them both from a fate that had befallen many of their former comrades. Yet, gratitude didn''t make it easier to come to terms with the reality of their situation. They were deserters now, fugitives in a land that he once called home.


    The thought was a heavy weight on Talarion''s mind when they moved further away from the fortress, but no matter how far they went the carnage seemed to keep up. They couldn¡¯t even count how many intersections and roads they passed that were once bustling with the movement of merchant and supply caravans. Now, those roads were silent graveyards, strewn with the bodies of Imperial Auxiliaries and regular Imperial Legionnaires, all rushing to reinforce the fortress.


    Each scene they encountered was more harrowing than the last. Bodies of soldiers, some still in their youth, lay twisted and lifeless, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and agony. The beasts, magnificent creatures that had once symbolized the might of the Empire, were now just lifeless husks. It seemed to be that the quiet and quaint countryside was rapidly becoming a warzone of a scale and ferocity they had never imagined.


    Snapping back to reality, Talarion watched Ryffka deftly traverse the rough terrain as his head shot in every direction, looking for any sign of patrols or wandering beasts. The Stymph''s feathered head would turn at every rustle, every snap of a twig, his keen eyes scanning for any sign of danger. Talarion followed silently, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, fear, disbelief, creating a turbulent mix that he struggled to keep in check.


    ¡°I cant believe a damnable Stymph saved me¡­¡± He murmured under his breath as he struggled with his wounded pride. The roles had been reversed ¨C the once carefree and skeptical Talarion was now reliant on a being from a people he had often mocked for being small, weak and cowardly. The irony of it all was not lost on him.


    As the sun slowly descended in the sky, Talarion continued to shadow Ryffka through the dense treeline, keeping a cautious eye on the road. The twilight hours brought a sense of foreboding, and he knew venturing deeper into the forest would be tantamount to inviting death. The untamed beasts that roamed these woods were known for their ferocity, especially under the cover of darkness. Staying close to the road, while risky, was their best bet for survival.


    Talarion looked at the familiar landmarks and immediately knew their destination. The port city of Aldenshore loomed in his thoughts as he stepped over a felled tree. The city was a bustling trade hub and was renowned as a gateway for ships from all corners of the known realm. Its docks were always teeming with activity, its markets overflowing with goods from distant lands. And with their new status as fugitives and outcasts, Aldenshore represented a beacon of opportunity. It was a city where one could disappear in the crowd, or find work as a freelancer taking on straight edge bounties or you could take more unsavory jobs and work for more illicit actors. Nevertheless, the city was plenty far away from the watchful eyes of the Empire despite its proximity to more faithful Imperial vassals.


    "We should head to Aldenshore," Ryffka finally broke the silence, his voice low and cautious. "It''s our best chance to blend in, maybe even find work to sustain ourselves."


    Talarion, still reeling from the day''s events, nodded in agreement. The thought of becoming a mercenary or a freelancer was something he had even considered before enlisting in the Auxiliary Corp and so the transition wouldn''t be too terrible.


    They were still a few day¡¯s travel from the city on foot and the journey wouldn¡¯t be easy, but the prospect of reaching a place where they could blend in and start anew kept them moving. Perhaps they could even make a living in the shadows of its bustling markets and crowded docks or even make a name for themselves and gain some form of immunity against the Auxiliary Corp. Stories of individuals pulling this exact thing off provided a glimmer of hope in these desperate times.


    "Aldenshore is no saint''s haven," Talarion mused aloud, stepping carefully over the uneven terrain. "But it''s got its nooks and crannies where two deserters can lie low."


    Ryffka, ever vigilant, nodded in agreement. "Yes, and if we''re careful, we might even find those willing to pay for our... unique skills," he added, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest for any signs of danger. ¡°Plus I always wanted to-¡±


    The Stymph suddenly paused mid-sentence as his sharp ears picked up distant sounds that didn''t belong to the forest. Ryffka''s body tensed, and his hand instinctively went to the grip of his blade staff, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source of the noise.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong-¡±


    "Quiet," Ryffka whispered urgently to Talarion, signaling for him to be silent. The two of them stood still, their breaths shallow as they listened intently.


    From a small cluster of clearings on their flank, where the treeline began to thin out, came the unmistakable sounds of battle ¨C the clash of steel, the shouts of men, and the cries of the wounded. Ryffka''s eyes flicked towards the direction of the commotion, weighing their options.


    "We should check it out," Ryffka murmured, his voice barely audible. "It might be nothing, but if it''s a skirmish... we could learn something useful."


    Talarion stared at the Stymph as if the teal feathered idiot had truly lost his mind. "Are you mad!?¡± He gestured his hand in front of his face as if he was trying to clutch at any remnants of his sanity. ¡°We''re trying to avoid conflict, not walk into it!"


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Ignoring Talarion''s protests, Ryffka began to maneuver closer to the sounds of fighting. Each step was taken with care while his feathers plumed out to keep his senses alert to every rustle and snap underfoot.


    A look of complete disbelief clouded Talarions face as he soundless yelled into his own hands before reluctantly following after Ryffka¡¯s lead. The two cautiously neared as the sounds of clashing steel and the voices of the combatants became clearer.


    ¡°Just give it up Azeline! You¡¯re outnumbered, you¡¯re just gonna die tired!¡± A voice in the distance yelled at as the two deserters neared the clearing.


    There they saw a woman with a fierce determination in her pale blue eyes, which gleamed with the clarity of someone who has faced death countless times and spat in its face. Her platinum blonde hair, rolled pragmatically into a tight bun, kept it out of the way in battle as she blocked, dodged and parried with the competence of a seasoned warrior.


    In what seemed to be just a fraction of a moment, the two hiding men watched as a flash of a double sided axe streaked towards the woman. Just a moment later a resounding clang rang out followed by a horrid shriek. At first they thought the woman had been struck down, but the scream had been from her attacker as he clutched his stomach.


    At least what remained of it.


    Talarion had seen it clearly, her attacker thought her distracted as he dashed out to cleave her in half, but as he brought his weapon down, the man found the iron core of his supposed victim¡¯s shield instead of her soft flesh. And just a moment later, before one could blink, the woman had retaliated with her broadsword. A flash of metal almost cleaved the man in half as she bounced back to put some distance between her and her attackers.


    But they weren¡¯t keen on giving her a break as spears, swords, maces and another axe shot out towards in an effort to take her life. A dozen men with an assortment of weapons lashed out towards her, but with prompt and fluid motions, the blonde countered, dodged and counter attacked each blow.


    That was until the woman had stomped viciously on the ground, causing the earth itself to ripple and sending everyone stumbling.


    "They¡¯re damnedable mana users! What the hell are you thinking, Ryffka?" Talarion hissed in a low, yet panicked whisper while grabbing the Stymphs arm to make an escape. "Why in the infinite hells are we heading towards a damned battle!?"


    Ryffka opened his mouth to protest as he turned around, but instead he put a panicked finger over his mouth and pointed over Talarion¡¯s shoulder.


    As the clash of steel continued to resound through the air, Ryffka''s sharp gaze fell upon a sight a mere dozen meters away, enough to send a chill down Talarion''s spine. "Don''t... move," Ryffka instructed in a hushed tone, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. "Not a muscle."


    Talarion felt his blood run cold as he slowly turned his head to follow Ryffka''s pointed gaze. Lumbering through the forest, drawn by the cacophony of the skirmish, was a massive creature, a monstrous behemoth known as a Grovemaw.


    The beast''s fur was a bristly shield, each strand thick and stiff like the quills of a porcupine, a natural armor against both the elements and the strikes of would-be assailants. Its head was broad and powerful, housing a maw that could swallow a man whole, lined with rows of serrated teeth eager to rend flesh from bone. The long snout, reminiscent of a badger, twitched as it sniffed the air, nostrils flaring as it detected the scent of blood and magic that hung like a miasma over the battlefield.


    But it was the creature''s paws that spoke true to its power; they were like the roots of ancient trees, thick and heavy, each step leaving deep impressions in the earth. The claws, caked with dirt and sap, gleamed with a deadly promise, capable of tearing through the toughest hide or armor with ease.


    Unaware of the two fugitives in its midst, the Grovemaw''s attention remained fixed on the battle ahead, its predatory instincts drawn to the chaos and the prospect of an easy meal amid the frenzy. It stalked through the forest with a quiet menace, each step deliberate and unhurried, as if it were the sovereign of this wooded realm and all within it was its domain to command.


    -


    ¡°Azeline!!¡± One of the assailants hissed angrily as his spear lashed out only to be caught by a shield while the dying screams of his comrade were still echoing out behind him. ¡°You dirty fucking whore!¡±


    After shoving a spear in her back and cutting down the rest of her pitiful party, they thought her to be just as easy.


    However, they had SEVERELY underestimated the woman.


    Azeline had dodged and weaved through the onslaught with a dancer''s grace with a fluidity that spoke of years honed in martial combat. In one moment she ducked under the swinging arc of an axe, its blade whistling through the air above her head and in the next, her blade arced upwards, deflecting a cleaver-like weapon with a reverberating clang. Her sword then found the neck of another assailant who had rushed her from the flank, slicing through flesh and bone, sending his head arcing into the air.


    Not one to lose momentum, Azeline capitalized on the shock, she channeled her mana, feeling the familiar rush as it infused her muscles, and leaped backwards with supernatural agility. A man, bulky and overconfident, swung his heavy mace down where she had been just a heartbeat before. His weapon met only dirt as he grunted in frustration from the wasted effort.


    Landing nimbly, Azeline took a defensive stance, her shield raised at an angle to deflect incoming blows, her sword poised above it, ready to strike. Despite the blood that seeped from the spear wound in her side.


    "I¡¯m afraid to say I¡¯m a little disappointed," she taunted, a wry chuckle escaping her lips despite the pain. "I expected Einar¡¯s dick suckers to be a lot more competent than this.¡±


    Her attackers circled with a mix of wariness and anger in their eyes as she continued, ¡°Wasn¡¯t being the ¡®elite¡¯ troops of that shitty syndicate your whole entire thing?¡± Her blade then lashed out to deflect the sword coming for her neck before Azeline¡¯s shield shot forward only to slam into her attacks face.


    The attacker''s grimace turned to agony as Azeline''s broadsword plunged deep into his belly. She twisted the hilt cruelly, ensuring the steel wreaked havoc within before she yanked it upward, tearing through flesh and sinew in an effort to not only disembowel the man, but to destroy every organ in his abdomen. With a forceful shove with her shield, Azeline sent the man reeling back as he clutched at his stomach.


    ¡°You backstabbing fucks are going to have to do better than that!¡± Azeline sneered as magical power started to swell within her.


    The remaining ten men, enraged by another slain comrade, the thugs charged towards her in a reckless rush. Azeline''s lips parted, and voiced a single word, "Erdbruch!" The power of her voice seemed to infuse her foot with her mana, and with a swift stomp, she slammed her foot down causing the earth to respond in kind.


    Shockwaves erupted from beneath her in a cone which rippled through the soil like a stone cast upon water. Her attackers then stumbled and their coordinated assault turned into a disarrayed mess as the ground buckled and heaved beneath them. Several fell, caught off guard by the unexpected tremor, while others struggled to maintain their balance.


    Not letting this opportunity to slip through her fingers, Azeline put more power into her legs, causing her to explode forward. Her shield then met the face of the man who had initially hurled insults at her, eliciting a sickening crunch as he was sent sprawling backward while his spear arced through the air for a few moments only to land with a dull thud at her feet.


    With a swift motion, she pivoted, her gaze locking onto another thug who had managed to stay upright. He came at her with an overhead swing of his axe in an effort to cleave her in two, but Azeline was faster. The woman¡¯s sword rose in an arc, her blade singing through the air and caught the wooden shaft of the man¡¯s weapon, slicing it clean in two. Not missing a beat, she used the momentum of her swing to pivot, bringing her sword around in a vicious backhand slash that severed the man''s head from his shoulders.


    As she turned to assess the rest of her foes, a chilling sensation gripped her. There, charging toward the fray with terrifying speed and ferocity, was the Grovemaw. Its quill-like fur bristled, its wide maw stretched open to reveal rows of serrated teeth ready to tear through anything or anyone.


    For a fleeting moment, Azeline''s determination faltered, replaced by the primal fear as the thunderous sounds of the monster''s gallop resounded.


    And it was heading straight for her.


    In that moment of life or death, Azeline acted on pure instinct. With a swift movement, Azeline snatched the spear from the ground, and channeled as much of her power as she could into her arm. Magical energy coursed through her veins, amplifying her strength several times over and with a warrior''s cry, she hurled the spear with pinpoint accuracy towards the beast.


    The spear flew in a blur of vengeance, and struck the Grovemaw squarely in its eye, causing the beast to howl in agony. The sound reverberated through the clearing as the Grovemaw''s pain quickly turned into a frenzied wrath, and with a swipe of its massive paw, it sent Azeline flying through the air.


    Azeline¡¯s body slammed into the ground as she was sent head over heels and each impact jarred her bones until she finally was caught in the underbrush of the treeline. As she tried to right herself, the poor woman¡¯s leg gave out from under her as her ragged breaths soon turned into gasps for air.


    The Grovemaw, blinded and maddened by pain, became an avatar of death and destruction. It''s great paws, each the size of a grown man¡¯s chest, swiped through the air with devastating force. The thugs and warriors who moments ago had surrounded Azeline with murderous intent now found themselves the targets of the beast''s blind fury as they screamed in fear.


    Once again the clearing was full of the sounds of clashing steel and flesh as it turned into a tableau of primal horror. The creature''s claws cut through the men''s armor like a hot knife through butter and the sound of rending metal and snapping bones filled the air, as the beast bit down with its gaping maw.


    Sucking in as much air as she could, Azeline peered around in a daze. Her eyes briefly floated over to two figures who quickly made their escape deeper in the woods and thought to herself how great of an idea that was.


    With renewed determination, Azeline mustered whatever strength she could, and dragged herself deeper into the forest as the background was punctuated by the dying screams of men who had originally come to take her life.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 36

    ¡°Gather around you fucking animals!¡± Coleman ordered as he yanked a large duffle bag and a strange metal object off the back of his GMV. After he got everything he needed, the team leader then threw the camouflage netting back over the vehicle, ensuring it blended seamlessly into the treeline they were hiding in.


    All twelve members of the Special Forces ODA Team, quickly congregated around their team leader with expressions of a mix of curiosity and anticipation while Coleman began rifling through the duffle bag. After a while, one by one, he started dropping an assortment of goodies onto the ground: canned soups, Chef Boyardee ravioli, various flavors of cup noodles from different brands, and other non-perishable comfort foods that brought a taste of home to this alien world.


    Murmurs of cheers went through the men as their eyes lit up at the sight of their Captain¡¯s stash while Coleman focused on setting up the strange metal object. It was a compact, modern military burner designed for small teams operating covertly.


    With the thing finally set up, the team leader couldn''t help but crack a smile. "Alright, boys, this is in celebration of us being the first earthlings to invade another damn planet," he announced, his voice tinged with both pride and a touch of irony. "So let''s enjoy some good old Earth cuisine while we plan our next move."


    ¡°Have you guys considered that maybe we¡¯re the horrible alien menace that invades other planets and shit like in all those movies?¡± Bennett suddenly yammered out as he squatted over to pick up a cup of spicy Korean Ramen.


    The team members began grabbing their preferred meal, they all looked at Bennett for a moment before chuckling. The statement had been truly absurd, but they couldn¡¯t find any fault in the Engineer¡¯s reasoning. They had truly come to push a group of sword-swinging alien¡¯s shit in.


    Just then, Elijah''s voice cut through the chatter from the other side of their encampment. "Blood for the blood god! Skulls for the skull throne!" he proclaimed with a voice full of mock ferocity Raising his fists into the air in a dramatic gesture. He was decked out in his full kit while peering around at his comrades highlighted by his Night Optical Devices (NODs).


    ¡°What!? What do you mean by Blood god!?¡± Yana suddenly emerged from one of his pockets with her hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯m your goddess! You¡¯re only allowed to worship me!¡±


    Elijah was momentarily taken aback by Yana''s sudden appearance and turned his head to stare at her blankly, but the incredulous look was lost under the equipment strapped snuggly to his eyes. However, the medic quickly adapted his theatrics to accommodate the small goddess. With his arm still raised, he turned to look at his team and, without missing a beat, exclaimed, "Crack for the crack fairy!"


    This, however, did not amuse Yana. With power belying her tiny size, she smacked him on the top of his head, her tiny fist making a surprisingly solid contact against his helmet. "Rude!" she yelled out, her voice carrying a mix of indignation and authority.


    ¡°Gah!¡± Elijah¡¯s head recoiled from the blow as he stumbled slightly, glaring at the little fairy who now stood with her arms crossed. While the goddess¡¯ face was etched with an annoyed expression, Elijah¡¯s teammates couldn''t help but erupt into laughter at the sight, their chuckles filling the forest hideout.


    Even Coleman was laughing, however, the man quickly regained his composure and held up his hand to quiet the team. "Alright, alright, keep it down," he said through his own stifled chuckles. "Remember, we''re still in the field and in a hide, so let''s not forget operational security."


    His reminder was met with several nods and murmurs of agreement as the team members chuckled and went back to what they were doing. They knew all too well the importance of maintaining a low profile, especially when they¡¯re out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere behind enemy lines.


    Coleman was still maintaining his authoritative stance when he then turned his attention to the more practical aspects of their situation. "Alright, let''s figure out the watch rotation.¡± He said after finally getting the stove to work and standing up. ¡°We need eyes on all sides at all times so we don''t get any nasty surprises sneaking up on us.¡±


    "Elijah, Bennett, you guys are up first for patrol to screen us. Keep it tight, keep it quiet," Coleman directed, pointing to the two. "Lister, Schwarz, Silva, you''re all on watch. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us."


    The individuals that were named acknowledged their assignments with a nod. Elijah and Bennett immediately started checking their gear, ensuring their weapons and equipment were ready for the patrol. Silva, the team¡¯s newly acquired Communications specialist along with Lister and Schwarz, all took up positions that allowed them optimal coverage of the surrounding area while still being within earshot of each other.


    ¡°We need to conserve what batteries we have for as long as possible, so everyone else, get as much shut-eye as you can." Coleman continued, glancing at his watch and then at the sky. ¡°Plus, we need to be fresh and ready for whatever insanity is going to be thrown at us in a few hours.¡±


    With his preparation done, Elijah turned towards Yana and noticed that she was still glaring at him with her arms crossed. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps an apology or an explanation, but before he could get a word out, Yana cut him off with a dismissive ''hmph.''


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to talk about this stupid  ''blood god'' then I¡¯m going to sleep somewhere else!¡± She declared with a venomous tone. And without waiting for a response, the little goddess prompt spun around and floated away towards one of the GMVs, leaving a somewhat bewildered Elijah behind.


    Elijah and Bennett exchanged confused glances, each trying to make sense of what had just transpired. "What in the fuck just happened?" Elijah asked, still trying to process Yana''s abrupt departure.


    Bennett, with a mix of amusement and confusion, shrugged. "Dude, I have no idea. This feels like some kind terrible couple segment in some shitty sitcom from the ''80s," he replied, shaking his head.


    ¡°Right?¡± Elijah said as he started walking deeper into the small forest they were hiding in. ¡°Next thing you know she¡¯ll be serving me divorce papers and asking for alimony or some shit.¡±


    The engineer chuckled at Elijah''s remark, "Man, except in this world, instead of paying alimony in money, you''d probably be paying with fragments of your soul or something equally insane," he joked, following Elijah deeper into the forest.


    The laughter faded as the gravity of Bennett''s joke hit Elijah. The medic shuddered at the thought as the dark humor reflected the bizarre reality they found themselves in. "Yeah, well, I''m never agreeing to a goddamn thing with anyone from this shithole of a world if that''s how things work around here," he responded with a serious look on his face. ¡°For all you know, actual marriage involves ripping your heart out and presenting it to your partner or something.¡±


    The two men continued their patrol, scanning the area with their thermal enhanced night vision. Despite the jokes and light-hearted banter, they were fully aware of just how dangerous the forest could be. The world around them was filled with magic, mythical creatures, and now, soul transactions. It wouldn¡¯t be far-fetched if they ran into a bloodthirsty vampire or some kind of horrible cryptid you¡¯d find on some demented forum.


    Anything and everything was on the table at this point.


    As they moved through the shadowy forest, a sudden unease started to grip the two men. They weren¡¯t even 50 meters from their camp when they noticed that the forest around them had a strange and tense atmosphere to it. Now the two weren¡¯t native to this world, but they had ventured to the other side every now and then. There was usually a chorus of nocturnal insects and small animals in the background, but this time there were faint, but ravenous tearing noises coming from the clearing just in front of them.


    The two men raised their weapons into a ready position and slowly moved forward with the precision of seasoned operators. As they approached the clearing, their senses were tuned to every detail of the environment around them. Their latest generation and most advanced night vision enabled them to detect even the most subtle disturbances in the natural setting.


    The clues were there, plain as day under the white phosphorus and thermal glow. Snapped twigs and branches littered the ground, bootprints imprinted in the moist soil, and foliage that had been disturbed, bent, or broken. Each sign told a story, a narrative of a pair of individuals moving this way. One sloppy, the other adept and stealthy.


    As Elijah and Bennett neared the clearing, their night vision revealed a chilling scene. Dozens of heat signatures popped up in their vision, indicating the presence of multiple bodies. With every cautious step, the grim reality of what lay ahead was brought more into focus until they were finally greeted with a grotesque tableau of death and destruction.


    Blood soaked the ground, while twisted corpses, and dismembered body parts were scattered in a macabre display. The lifeless forms were those of what they assumed were people told a tale of a brutal and merciless slaughter.


    But it wasn''t just the dead that populated the area. Scavengers, drawn by the scent of death, were busy at work. These strange and giant bat-like creatures, highlighted in an orange glow of the soldiers'' night vision, were ripping apart the remains, feasting on the flesh of the fallen.


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    "Jesus Christ," Bennett whispered under his breath as he remained hidden in the shadows. "Looks like a damn feeding frenzy."


    Elijah barely acknowledged the engineer as his eyes scanned the area for any signs of survivors or threats. "Think it was one of those bear things?" he murmured as his hand slid to the chopped down and holstered grenade launcher he kept at his side. ¡°Fucker shouldn¡¯t be too far, corpses don¡¯t look that old¡­¡±


    Bennett¡¯s gaze lingered on the clearing for a few moments as his mind weighed the possibilities. "Could be," he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "But we can''t rule out anything else in this godforsaken place. Could be some other monster we haven''t seen yet."


    Spinning around to scan his surroundings, Elijah narrowed his eyes before grunting in affirmation. "Yeah, let''s not stick around to find out," he suggested, a note of urgency in his voice. The brutal scene before them was a stark reminder of the dangers lurking in this alien world.


    As Elijah stood up, he motioned for Bennett to follow. There was no point in lingering and risking an encounter with whatever creature was responsible for the massacre. But as he glanced over his shoulder, something else caught his attention. Against the backdrop of the bright moon of this world, the faint trace of a smoke stack rose into the night sky followed by more of those giant bats flying in circles around it.


    "Hold up," Elijah murmured, gesturing towards the distant smoke. "You see that?" His tone was curious yet cautious.


    "Yeah, I see it. Looks like smoke...Could be a campfire or something." Bennett replied, peering in the direction Elijah was pointing.


    Elijah thought for a moment as he considered the risks while observing the smoke stack. "We could get a drone on it, but it''s pretty dark, and those vulture bat things might snatch it. Not worth losing a drone."


    Bennett nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and going in ourselves is too risky. We don''t know what we''re walking into. Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here."


    On that note, the two soldiers took one last look at the smoke stack before disappearing into the darkness.


    -


    With sirens blaring and lights flashing, two Pittsburgh Police cruisers sped down the suburban streets, racing towards the reported scene at Heidelberg Park just outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Inside one of the cruisers, Officer Derrick Hawkins focused intently on the road, navigating the cruiser at breakneck speeds. His partner, Officer Jenna Larson, was next to him, coordinating closely with dispatch.


    "All units, please be advised," the dispatcher''s urgent voice crackled over the radio. "Initial reports of a wild animal attack at Heidelberg Park have escalated. We now have confirmed reports of shots fired and multiple fatalities, including children. Proceed with extreme caution."


    Derrick tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he briefly looked at his partner in confusion. ¡°Wait what?¡±


    "Dispatch, Unit 52 acknowledging. We are en route, ETA three minutes," Jenna responded hesitantly as she scanned her laptop for additional information. "Dispatch, do we have any description of the suspect or¡­ animal?¡±


    "Negative, Unit 52," the dispatcher replied. "Witnesses are in a state of panic. We''re attempting to gather more details. Be aware, the situation is highly volatile."


    The two partners looked at each other one more time as the cruisers continued their high-speed approach. As they turned sharply on a main road, their vision was full of more cruisers, all racing towards the same location.


    But as they neared the scene, the crackle of gunfire pierced through the night, its rapid staccato echoing in the distance followed by frantic calls on the radio. ¡°SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED! OFFICER DOWN!¡± jenna cursed under her breath


    When they finally entered the proximity of Heidelberg Park, all they could see were blooms of smoke with fire lashing up in the sky and a mass of freshly arrived cruisers with police officers climbing out of them. Jenna was working on unlocking the AR-15s from the gun rack and started quickly prepping the weapons when they came to a hard stop.


    The terrifying barks of gunfire resounded as Jenna handed Derrick his rifle before two swiftly exiting their vehicle. At this point, their meticulously instilled training kicked in as they moved swiftly, pointing their weapons in the direction others officers were while scanning for any visible threats.


    However their gaze was greeted with nothing but horror as their eyes snapped to the victims of the brutal attack. Multiple adults and children lay motionless on the ground with a morbid and dizzying array of wounds.


    ¡°Dispatch! We¡¯re on scene!¡± Jenna reported as she sprinted towards an officer with multiple shards of metal or what looked like¡­ stone lodged in his leg and vest. ¡°We have multiple casualties, including civilians!¡± She said as she helped a responding police officer to drag the injured man away.


    Everywhere they looked was a scene of chaos and devastation. Two police cruisers, mere meters away from where Derrick and Jenna had parked, looked like they had been torn apart by some immense force with the mangled metal and shattered glass lay scattered across the street. Wounded civilians, some clutching at what looked like burn wounds, and laceration injuries, huddled behind the relative safety of sheriff and police cruisers with faces etched with pain and terror.


    To make matters worse, a couple of houses near the park had caught fire. The flames, initially small and manageable, had quickly turned into a raging inferno, casting an ominous glow over the scene. The heat from the fires was intense, and the thick smoke billowed into the sky, further adding to the chaos.


    Positioning himself behind the engine block, Derrick threw his rifle over the hood and took aim towards the park. His heart raced as he scanned the area for any sign of the assailant or assailants responsible for this massacre. The cries of the injured and the shouts of officers trying to coordinate a response filled the air, creating a cacophony of despair and urgency.


    He turned towards Jenna and saw the first aid kit that was hastily strewn about the ground as the woman rushed to tighten a tourniquet around a young woman¡¯s leg with panicked hands. But as Derrick turned his vision back to the playground, movement caught his eye.


    Emerging from the treeline of the playground were several small, horrific-looking creatures. They stood about four feet tall, with sinewy, muscular bodies that seemed to be a grotesque caricature of a rabid possum with a frontal pouch like some kind of mutated kangaroo. Their fur was matted and bristly, and their faces were twisted into snarling, feral grimaces, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.


    Derrick''s blood ran cold as he recognized these creatures from the news coverage of the Ohio incident and remembered the name given to them after the dust had settled ¨C Scroungers. These nightmarish beings were now darting towards the center of the playground, where injured adults and children laid crying. Before anyone could react, one of the Scroungers grabbed a young girl and began dragging it away, its sharp claws digging into the young victim''s flesh as the child screamed in terror.


    ¡°DISPATCH, THE GODDAMN MONSTERS FROM OHIO ARE HERE!¡± An officer screamed into his radio.


    Without even a second thought, Derrick began firing his weapon, causing the horrible beast to screech and release its grip on the girl as it fell to the ground and scrambled away. Other officers also started to open fire, but something they never had dreamed of happened. Strange blue hexagonal barriers appeared out of thin air, deflecting the bullets with an eerie, shimmering glow. The officers, taken aback by this unforeseen defense, hesitated momentarily, their training ill-equipped for such a supernatural phenomenon.


    A slew of curses left Derrick''s mouth as he saw the round after round simply bounce off the erected barriers. But seeing as he saw more of those horrible things run out to grab more victims, he knew what he had to do. Breaking his cover, Derrick half-sprinted, half-jogged towards the playground, firing his weapon repeatedly in an attempt to keep them suppressed as he closed the distance.


    His mind raced, calculating the odds as he approached the shimmering barriers. But Surprisingly, as he neared one, he found himself passing through it effortlessly. It was as if the barriers were selectively permeable, stopping bullets but allowing physical passage.


    Taking advantage of the situation, Derrick lunged at the nearest Scrounger that was manipulating the barrier. His tackle hit the creature with full force, knocking it to the ground. The Scrounger hissed and snarled, revealing its sharp teeth as it clawed and bit the officer. Derrick however, continued to grapple with the creature in an effort to subdue it and ignored its vicious attacks.


    The breakthrough with the barrier gave the other officers the opening they needed. They began firing their weapons at the now vulnerable targets, mowing down the ones that weren''t dragging away a victim. More officers joined in, tackling and subduing the Scroungers who were dragging children away.


    One officer, caught in a fierce struggle with a Scrounger, used his rifle like a club. With a powerful swing, he brought the butt of his rifle down onto the creature''s head. There was a sickening snap as the stock broke upon impact, and the Scrounger collapsed to the ground, motionless.


    The park had turned into a complete melee, with officers and Scroungers engaged in close quarters combat. The officers, though initially caught off guard by the bizarre and otherworldly nature of their foes, found that even though their claws and crude weapons were intimidating, they weren¡¯t all that strong and were easily overpowered.


    As Derrick continued to roll and wrestle with the Scrounger, it ended on top of him and snapped at his face with his twisted snout, but another crack resounded as Jenna slammed the butt of her rifle into the creature''s head.


    Jenna''s timely intervention was a godsend for Derrick. With a series of brutal strikes, the woman screamed as she relentlessly beat the Scrounger off her partner. Each impact of her rifle''s butt against the creature''s head was accompanied by a ¡®Fuck you¡¯ and a sickening crunch as the force of her blows began to break parts of the stock off and splattering foul-smelling blood in every direction.


    ¡°PIECE! OF! FUCKING! SHIT!¡± She screamed, basically stabbing the now exposed buffer tube of her AR-15 into the thing''s face. ¡°FUCK YOU!¡±


    After several more vicious strikes, the Scrounger finally lay still, its body twitching in the final throes of death. Jenna, panting heavily from the exertion, dropped the broken remnants of her rifle and looked around to see the bodies of Scroungers lay scattered about. In the chaos, some of the creatures had managed to escape, scrambling into the treeline and disappearing into the thick underbrush, but the officers had managed to save who they could and beat the vermin back.


    The air, once filled with the sounds of battle, was now pierced by the incessant wail of arriving sirens as more emergency responders converged on the chaotic scene, while the officers, battered but unbowed, rose to tend to the wounded.


    As the last echoes of the savage struggle faded, the park was in turn filled with the continuous wail of approaching sirens, as more first responders rushed to the nightmarish scene. Weary and shaken, the officers turned their attention to the wounded, mustering their remaining strength and moved to render aid to the victims of this terror.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 37

    With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, casting a soft golden hue through the dense forest, the ODA team, consisting of six members, moved with the precision and silence characteristic of elite special forces. They maintained proper dispersion, each member spaced evenly apart yet within visual range of each other, a silent formation moving as one through the underbrush.


    As they ventured deeper into the woods, their steps were cautious and calculated, barely making a sound. Each team member was keenly aware of their surroundings, eyes scanning for any sign of danger or irregularity in the dense foliage.


    Above them, a drone hummed quietly, almost imperceptibly high and flying against the morning sun to cover its approach and serve as an eye in the sky, guiding the team toward their destination. The small drone''s optics zoomed in on a small break in the forest canopy, revealing the source of the smoke stack that Elijah and Bennett had spotted the night before.


    ¡°Baron 1, this is Baron 2. Be advised, we have a singular individual moving about near the source of the fire, over," came the static-filled voice from the radio, relaying information from the drone operator to the ground team.


    Coleman looked up at one of those wing horrors that looked like a deranged amalgamation of a Bat and a Lemur in a tree he was under and watched as it hissed at him before flying off. "Baron 2, this is Baron 1, acknowledged. Maintain overwatch. We''re moving in to investigate, over."


    As the team continued their cautious advance, they finally came across the clearing Elijah and Bennet had described the night prior. All 6 of the team were greeted with the sight of bloodied bones and viscera, picked nearly clean and scattered across the ground.


    ¡°Fuck me.¡± Silva, the team''s Communications Specialist, cringed as they all squatted behind some bushes


    The atmosphere grew more intense as the ODA adjusted their positions while they maneuvered into better vantage points. Once they got into position, they looked into the clearing itself and observed two lone scavengers while they tore at the remnants of viscera, trying to get any amount of meat from the already cleanly picked bones.


    Coleman crouched low, his eyes scanning the clearing and the surrounding forest. "Okay, so¡­ How do you guys wanna approach this," he whispered, turning to his men.


    Bennett watched through his optic as the beast grabbed a blood skull and snapped it open before munching away at its contents. "We could try moving through the clearing. It''s more direct, and we only have to deal with only two of those things."


    Elijah, positioned slightly behind Bennett, frowned. "But that also puts us out in the open. If there''s anyone else around, it won''t exactly end well."


    "But there¡¯s tons of those things in the trees. I mean we already startled a few, so if we go around there''s a good chance we wake up the entire flock if they¡¯re in there." Schwarz added his thoughts as he adjusted his rifle. ¡°Damned if you do, damned if you don¡¯t.¡±


    Nodding thoughtfully, Coleman weighed the options presented by his team. They were put in quite the dilemma, on one hand, traversing the clearing offered a direct approach but with the risk of exposure. On the other hand, circumnavigating through the dense forest provided concealment but carried the potential danger of disturbing a larger number of those scavengers or encountering something else altogether.


    After a moment of contemplation, Coleman made his decision. "We''ll go through the clearing," he said decisively. "The risk of waking up a whole host of those things in the trees is too high. At best, we cause a mass exodus, alerting someone to our presence. At worst, we get overwhelmed and join the bones in that clearing."


    He glanced at his team members, each of whom nodded in understanding. "We¡¯ll go through the clearing. Lister, Schwarz, Silva, you¡¯re to hold position here and cover us as we make the approach. If shit goes sideways, you¡¯re gonna pull our asses out of the fire."


    The three men nodded before stealthy standing up and moving to take up positions that provided a clear line of sight to the clearing.


    Turning to Elijah and Bennett, Coleman detailed the next part of their plan. "Eli, you got the rattler, so you''re upfront. Smoke them quickly and quietly. Once they''re down, we¡¯re breaking to the other side of the clearing."


    "Bennett, you''re with me," Coleman continued. "We¡¯re going to be hugging Eli¡¯s ass.¡± He said, racking his charging handle back on his suppressed Assault Rifle to make sure there was a round in it. ¡°We gotta make it quick and quiet.¡±


    Coleman¡¯s voice was calm yet authoritative as he finished outlining the plan. "Remember, speed and aggression. We hit those scavengers fast, then move quickly and stay low. We''re not here to be decisively engaged. We get in, bag whoever is making that smoke, and see if they got any intel for us."


    The moment Coleman finished his instructions, the team switched gears as they all quietly and quickly moved around.


    It was time to work.


    Without a word, Elijah set up behind a tree with his specialized short-barrel rifle equipped with a large suppressor and took aim. Meanwhile, Coleman and Bennett, in perfect sync with their point man, stacked up behind Elijah. The team leader placed his palm gently on Elijah''s shoulder, a silent signal that they were in position and ready. A second later, Coleman''s grip on Elijah''s shoulder tightened sharply, a clear indication to engage.


    The quiet of the early morning was punctured by the faint snaps of subsonic rounds, causing the first scavenger to drop instantly as it took a precise shot to the skull. The second creature let out a startled squawk, thrashing in surprise, but it too was quickly silenced as more rounds hissed through the air, ending its life with deadly efficiency.


    With the scavengers neutralized, Elijah, Coleman, and Bennett immediately broke cover, swiftly moving across the clearing. Each man had his weapon raised, covering different sectors to ensure nothing could fully sneak up on them without catching some lead as they advanced.


    But once Elijah broke into thicket of the opposing treeline, several more snaps of his weapon firing as he targeted four more scavengers that were perched unsuspectingly in a nearby tree. The creatures, caught completely off guard, fell limply to the ground  while the remaining scavengers, taken aback by the sudden demise of their kin, hissed and snapped their beaks in agitation. However, recognizing the lethal threat posed by the intruders, they chose to flee to other trees rather than confront something that could kill four of their own in just as many seconds.


    "But let''s make sure they understand who''s in charge here." Coleman said as they moved forward, opting for intimidation. Every so often, Elijah¡¯s weapon would hiss out of hatred, ending any beast that lingered too long or showed any sign of aggression.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the flock to get with the program after watching the folly of any of their more braver kin. With each body, the mass of monsters gave another meter of distance as clear acknowledgment of the trio¡¯s dominance.


    Despite their initial success, the small team soon realized that they had potentially ventured too deep into hostile territory. But, there was no turning back now; momentum was already in their favor, and they couldn¡¯t afford anything other than full commitment to their current course.


    As the three continued to move through the forest, they found that they had pushed completely  through the horde of giant bat-like scavengers. The creatures themselves scrambled away as they recognized the threat these strange humans posed. After the last brave monster crumbled to the ground, the rest either flew off or scrambled back into their trees, leaving the path ahead unobstructed.


    Looking around with a furrowed brow, Bennett¡¯s eye flashed towards Coleman when he noticed they were in the clear. ¡°Okay so¡­¡± He murmured keeping his weapon pointed to where the monsters huddled in the tree. ¡°What the fuck do we do now?¡±


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    Coleman scowled as he scanned his surroundings. A small curse left his lips as he grabbed his push to talk and growled, "All Baron elements, this is Baron 1," Coleman''s voice transmitted clearly over the radio. "Be advised, we have successfully navigated through the flock. Encountered and neutralized multiple hostiles with no casualties on our side. We are now proceeding towards the objective. Over."


    While Coleman updated the rest of the team, Elijah quietly reloaded a fresh magazine before slowly creeping towards through the brush. Through the brush, he saw what looked like the faint flickering light of a dying flame.


    Meanwhile, both Bennett and Coleman gave the medic the side eye as the man stalked forward, but they quickly moved to follow while Coleman still quietly relayed information and instructions to the rest of the team. However it didn¡¯t take long for them to also spot the glow dancing in the surroundings of the surrounding trees and shrubbery.


    As they closed in, the forest itself seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds  were the faint crackling of the distant fire and the soft rustle of the wind, rustling the foliage as they silently maneuvered into position.


    Suddenly, a feminine voice pierced the stillness and echoed through the trees. The words were indistinct, muffled by distance and the dense forest, but the tone was unmistakable and was laced with a mixture of distress or anger.


    There, they saw a figure hobbling around, swinging what looked like a branch in a wild manner as if trying to ward something off. And when they neared, the ineligible yelling started to slowly make sense as their intense language training over the past half year started to pay off. It was rough, but they could understand the desperate cries of the injured woman while she yelled for someone, or something, to get away from her.


    ¡°DISGUSTING FUCKING VERMIN!¡± The voice screeched out after swinging whatever was in her hand once more.


    Coleman, Elijah, and Bennett were crouched on one knee each, blending into the underbrush when a loud smack rang out. Their eyes narrowed as another monstrous figure screeched and flailed around before the woman raised what she had in her hand in the air and brought it down on top of whatever she had initially hit.


    ¡°YOU WANT SOME TOO!? I¡¯LL KILL ALL YOU FUCKS!¡±


    The vicious battle cry made Coleman shift his weapon slightly in his hands. There was something about the yell that felt¡­ odd and pressured him to seek out the familiar weight and balance of his rifle as he remained focused on the woman''s figure through the trees. His gaze then shifted to Elijah and Bennett, "What do you all think we should do?" he whispered before looking back at the woman swinging her branch.


    Bennett remained silent as his mind undoubtedly raced through their options, but Elijah let out a deep and measured sigh. His eyes intently observed the woman''s desperate defense against what he assumed were more of those Lemur-Bat Scavenger things.


    "Fuck it, we should make contact," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Whoever she is, she''s injured, and fighting off those things alone. Maybe we can work something out for some information."


    Silence reigned for a few moments as Coleman and Bennett exchanged an uncertain look. They knew there were a multitude of unknowns that could quickly turn volatile if they engaged with whoever was in the thicket Especially in this godforsaken world. Yet, a better option wasn¡¯t exactly forthcoming, and the confidence in Elijah''s voice swayed them.


    "... Alright¡­¡± Coleman said uneasily. ¡°We''ll make contact, but keep on your toes.¡± He stood up and sucked in a deep breath to prepare himself for what was to come. ¡°Eli, you lead. You''ve got the best handle on the language."


    "We keep it tight and controlled. I¡¯ll be on overwatch and watch our six. Bennett, you''re with Eli, keep it non-threatening, but don¡¯t let him get wasted. Weapons low, but be ready for anything. We don''t know if she''s a wizard or some shit or even if she''s even alone."


    With their roles clearly defined, the three men carefully made their way forward. Their rifles were angled towards the ground in a less threatening, but ready posture as they began to edge towards the woman. Coleman trailed behind his men and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, scanning for any potential threats that might pop out while Bennett stayed close to Elijah.


    As they moved closer, the sounds of the woman''s struggle grew louder, and the occasional thud of her makeshift weapon echoed through the trees. She swung the admittedly thick branch one more time and caused one of those scavengers to tumble across the ground and go limp. Growls and hisses resounded as the remaining creatures scampered away and took to the air or retreated into the underbrush. As the thicket settled into a tense silence, the woman groaned in pain as she stumbled to the ground while a slew of curses left her mouth.


    But as she started to get settled, the woman¡¯s face snapped up as two figures pierced through the foliage. ¡°NO!¡± she yelled with her orange eyes went wide with shock. ¡°Stay away!¡± Fear gripped her entire being and her breaths became ragged as she started to desperately crawl away.


    Elijah furrowed his brow as he looked her up and down. She was almost a carbon copy of some Nordic woman from Sweden or Norway, except with pointy ears. And just like that the other Elves Yana had harassed on the other side, this one was a beauty.


    Raising his hand in a clear sign of peace, Elijah continued forward slowly and cautiously, closing the gap with the woman. However, as a precaution, his other hand remained on his rifle while Bennett took up a position behind a tree and kept his weapon ready in order to react to any sudden movement.


    "We''re not here to harm you," Elijah tried to sound as non-threatening as he could as he crept forward. ¡°We just want to-¡±


    The words were caught in Elijah¡¯s mouth when he saw the woman¡¯s hand abruptly shot out, grabbing a sizable stone. With a grunt that was more of a battle cry, she channeled what seemed like a burst of energy into her arm and hurled the thing straight at Elijah, causing him to instinctively flinch away.


    "If you''re not here to hurt me, then go away!" she snapped as the stone whizzed past the intruder and slammed into the tree next to him.


    A fraction of a second later, Bennett''s rifle snapped up and pointed at the woman to end the threat, but Elijah quickly interjected, "Wait, wait, wait! Don''t fucking shoot her!" He yelled, putting himself between the two to prevent any further escalation.


    ¡°Eli, what the fuck are you doing!?¡± Bennett yelled back, slightly lowering his weapon so it wasn¡¯t pointed at his teammate. ¡°She just tried to fucking brain you with a goddamn rock!¡±


    Ignoring Bennett''s outburst, Elijah let go of his rifle completely and allowed it to dangle freely from its sling. He raised both hands in a more pronounced gesture of peace while urging Bennett to calm down. "Bro, chill, I got this," he calmly replied, trying to diffuse both the tension.


    "You''re fucking insane!" Bennett hissed back in a quiet, intense yell, his eyes darting between Elijah and the woman. "She took out a chunk of a tree with a goddamn rock, and you want to play footsie with this bitch!?"


    However, the warning went unheeded and Bennett murmured another curse before shifting positions to get a better shot on the woman. ¡°I swear to god, your dick is going to get you killed!¡±


    Despite her obvious pain, the injured woman was having none of it. She groaned in pain and managed to grab another sizable stone and cocked back her arm in preparation for another throw,but Elijah''s hands remained raised, even as he sensed Bennett''s growing frustration behind him.


    "No, no, no, no, no! Wait!" Elijah yelled out in a pleading manner, hoping to stop her. ¡°Wait, wait! Relax! You''re hurt, I can help!"


    The woman paused, her arm still tensed and ready to launch the stone, but her eyes locked onto Elijah''s. There was a moment of intense stillness, a standoff where every second seemed to stretch on infinitely as the in her arm eased. The stone still gripped firmly in her hand was ready to accelerate at a moment''s notice, but it was clear she was entertaining this moment of parley.


    Elijah noticed her breathing was ragged as a mix of pain and exertion was displayed in her posture. Her eyes, still filled with wariness, flickered over the medic¡¯s face, searching for any sign of deceit or aggression.


    "Look, we don''t want to fight," Elijah continued, carefully choosing his words. "We have uhh¡­¡± his fingers madea beckoning motion while his eyes moved to the side as he tried to remember the words. ¡°Healing things. We can treat your wounds. Just let us help you." He explained in a soothing voice.


    ¡°Stay where you are!¡± The blonde barked.


    Coming to a complete stop, Elijah nodded in understanding and tried to convey his sincerity through his body language as much as he could. "Okay, okay, okay! I¡¯ll stay here," he assured her.


    The woman''s expression remained wary and her gaze darted between Elijah and Bennett, who was in her eye was holding a strange weapon. She had heard rumors of strange humans with strange foliage colored uniforms from some associates and in her mission planning, so she knew well enough what the man was pointing at her was dangerous. "If you have healing potions, just toss it to me," she demanded, her tone indicating that she wasn''t ready to lower her guard just yet.


    Slightly taken aback by the request, Elijah blinked a few times before glancing back at Bennett for a brief moment. He realized that with his limited abilities in the language, explaining that his healing ability lay in trauma care rather than potions or magical bullshit, was going to be quite the challenge.


    "We¡­ uh¡­ don''t have potions," Elijah tried to explain, choosing his words with care. "I''m a... healer, but not with magic. I use different things... to help with injuries." He gestured to his medical kit. "But it''s real. I can help you."


    The snarl on her face indicated to Elijah that she REALLY didn¡¯t like that answer.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 38

    "Wait! Just... wait!" Elijah yelled, throwing his hands forward when he saw the look on the blonde Elf¡¯s face.


    Her grip on the stone had tightened, and her arm tensed as she cocked it back to throw it. ¡°You think I¡¯m just going to allow some FREAK to rob me!?¡± She barked in anger. ¡°Can¡¯t you losers wait until I at least die!?¡±


    ¡°W-What!? We''re not here to rob you!¡± Elijah said slowly detaching the more portable aid pack that was attached to his waist. ¡°You''re hurt, and I have the skills to provide¡­ uhh, care. It''s not magic, but it will work."


    The woman hesitated, her arm still raised but the intensity of her posture lessening slightly. Torn between her instinct to defend herself and the intense pain that coursed through her body, her gaze darted between the strange man¡¯s medical kit and his earnest face.


    In an attempt to assess and weigh her options, the injured Elf studied the contents of Elijah''s satchel. Everything in it resembled what she might expect from a rudimentary healer in some town, yet far more sophisticated. There were neatly organized bandages, antiseptics, and various medical tools that she had never seen before. It was clear that this man was not lying when he said he was a healer.


    Albeit a mundane healer, but was she really in a position to be picky?


    With the pain gnawing at her and weakening her resolve, she finally relented. Her hand, trembling slightly from the strain, slowly lowered the stone to the ground. She made a decision to gamble on the trustworthiness of the man in front of her.


    "Fine," she said in a pained and reluctant tone, wincing as she adjusted her position to grant better access to her injuries. "But if this is a trick..."


    ¡°You can bash my head in with a rock.¡± Elijah replied, walking forward before taking a knee right next to her. He then pointed to himself and said, ¡°Elijah.¡± Then he pointed towards the man who still had a strange weapon trained on her. ¡°Bennett.¡±


    A look of wariness colored the woman¡¯s face as the strange healer introduced himself and his companion. Her gaze flickered to the one called Bennett who was still training his odd weapon on her, and then back to Elijah. Despite the pain and her initial reluctance, there was a sense of curiosity in her expression.


    After a brief pause, she seemed to relent with an exhausted sigh, and she reciprocated the introduction. "Azeline," she said, pointing at herself.


    Elijah began to nod, surprised things were going as well as they were. ¡°See? This isn¡¯t so bad.¡± He said, glancing back at Bennett. ¡°Right Ben?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± The engineer barked back angrily. "You''re a goddamn lunatic," he added, reluctantly lowering his weapon. "All this cosmic bullshit has scrambled your brains."


    Elijah chuckled derisively, unable to refute the accusation. "Maybe, but it''s working, isn''t it? We''re making progress here."


    Azeline watched their interaction with a mixture of confusion and interest. She couldn¡¯t understand a word they were saying, but the familiar dynamics between the two men were similar to that of Freelancers. But she wasn¡¯t going to let that distract her from her vigilance. Azeline still needed to stay alert and gauge whether their intentions were as genuine as they claimed.


    As Elijah began to assess Azeline''s injuries, his brow started to furrow at the extent of her injuries. He knew his basic trauma kit and lack of resources would allow him to provide very limited care, but he had to make the best of whatever he had.


    Pulling out his shears, he slowly cut away at the fabric around Azeline''s wounds to get a better look. ¡°Jesus Christ¡­ How haven¡¯t you bled out already?¡± He mumbled as he pulled out his antiseptic wipes and started cleaning the stab wound. He knew he couldn¡¯t do much about the internal damage at the current moment, so now his only concern was infections and preventing any further blood loss.


    While Elijah worked on his new patient, Coleman emerged from the shadow and walked up right next to Bennett. He observed Elijah''s work for a moment before turning to Bennett. "You think she knows anything?" Coleman asked, his voice low and contemplative.


    Bennett turned around and eyed the surroundings before offering a simple shrug. "I¡¯m more concerned about how in the hell we¡¯re supposed to get her out of here with those demon bats lurking about." he responded with a slightly frustrated tone. It was clear that the presence of the menacing creatures in the area was weighing heavily on his mind.


    Coleman let out a sigh, the presence of the menacing creatures in the area also weighed heavily on his mind. The extraction of this woman for interrogation and further treatment made things a lot more complicated.


    Pressing down on his push-to-talk, Coleman spoke into the headset. "Baron 2, this is Baron 1. We''ve made contact with a local that needs to be extracted for further treatment. Stand by for next, over." he relayed the situation, his voice firm yet tinged with the strain of their predicament.


    As the acknowledgement came over the radio, Coleman turned to Elijah and spoke up, ¡°Hey, can we move her?¡±


    Elijah continued to work on Azeline''s injuries as he replied to Coleman without looking away. "We can move her, but it''s going to be tricky," he said, his hands skillfully applying a final bandage to the stab wound. "She''s got a fractured hip and a broken arm, which complicates things. The stab wound is stable for now, but I¡¯m going to need my full kit real fuckin¡¯ fast."


    The medic then moved to assess her hip. With the resources at hand, he couldn''t do much more than ensure she was as comfortable as possible. "We''ll need to be gentle with her, especially with that hip. Any jostling around could make it worse," Elijah explained. He then moved to get her into a sling for her broken arm.


    Finishing up, Elijah stood and faced Coleman. "We should try to keep her movements to a minimum, but I don¡¯t got a stretcher on me.¡± He said, pulling off his latex gloves. ¡°So that means one of us is gonna have to carry her through the forest.


    A difficult look spread across Coleman¡¯s face as he started to think. ¡°Can you sedate her?¡± He asked, looking behind him at the path they took to get here.


    Elijah hesitated for a moment before answering. "Ehhh... Yes...? But I''m not particularly familiar with Elf physiology. We''re limited on supplies, and while reports show that they¡¯re compatible, I still can''t predict how she''ll react to our shit," he cautioned with a look of uncertainty on his face


    Coleman furrowed his brows as he processed this information. After weighing his options for a moment, he came to a quick decision. "Sedate her. I¡¯m not going to be the one responsible for her screaming in agony all day," he stated firmly, unwilling to let something like that weigh on his conscience. ¡°She¡¯ll either die of shock or die high as fuck, but without pain. And if I had to choose, it would be the latter.¡±


    The ODA team leader then turned his attention back to the radio and pressed down on his push-to-talk button. "Baron 2, this is Baron 1. Prep the vehicles for exfil. When we get there, we''re hauling ass out. Expect an injured plus one. Over," he instructed clearly and concisely, following proper radio protocol.


    After receiving the confirmation from Baron 2, Coleman switched channels to contact another team member. "Baron 3, this is Baron 1. Prep nine bangs and start dispersing them in the forest. Create a diversion and cover our exfil. Sync for ten minutes. Acknowledge, over."


    Lister''s voice crackled through the radio, "Baron 1, this is Baron 3. Copy that. Prepping nine bangs for diversion. Timing set for ten minutes. Out."


    A few beeps resounded as Coleman started the timer on his watch. He then turned back to Bennett and Elijah, "We got 10 minutes, drug her up and prep her to move." His gaze lingered on Azeline who was staring at him with a confused look on her face.


    Azeline, watching the interaction with growing apprehension, finally spoke up, "What are you talking about?" she asked Elijah with a voice full of apprehension while her eyes flicked between the men.


    Elijah, who had been preparing the sedative, paused and looked at Azeline. His grasp of her language wasn¡¯t exactly ideal, but it was still enough to hold a proper conversation even though there was still a slightly janky quality to it. "We need to move you," he explained carefully. "We don''t have the proper supplies here to treat you fully, and there¡¯s a horde of those weird monster things out there. It''s not safe."


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    ¡°The Rotwings? Or do you mean the Grovemaws?" She asked with a look of concern on her face.


    Silence reigned for a moment as Elijah gave her a strange look, but after a few moments he then pointed to one of the dead scavengers nearby. ¡°Those things¡±


    ¡°Ah. Rotwings¡­¡± Azeline nodded. ¡°Harmless alone and cowardly even when in groups, but if there¡¯s enough of them then it¡¯s a problem. It¡¯s rare, but if they swarm and-¡± Azeline was suddenly cut off by a sharp sensation at her side, causing her to jolt and exclaim, "Hey! What was that for!?"


    A thoughtful look clouded Elijah¡¯s face for a moment before he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Ahh, don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯m stopping your pain.¡± He explained.


    He had been careful with the dosage, seeing as her species¡¯ were rather sensitive to such medications, but the effects immediately became noticeable.


    ¡°What do you mean- wooaaah¡­.¡± Azeline tried to reply, but suddenly became unsteady and started swinging about. Her pupils then began to dilate as she looked at Elijah with a mix of surprise and drowsiness. "I feel... weird," she mumbled with slurred words.


    Elijah rubbed his beard for a few moments as he monitored her closely. He had tried to give her less than what was recommended to take the edge off, but it appeared much more effective than he initially thought. ¡°Huh¡­ would you look at that.¡± He muttered to himself, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I guess even a small dose is pretty potent for you. I could just water this shit down-.¡±


    Suddenly thunk resounded as Azeline fell back with her eyes staring up at the sky.


    ¡°Woaaaaaah¡­¡± She moaned in awe as colors and strange shapes populated her world. ¡°Is that what purple tastes like?¡±


    Everyone looked at each other for a few moments, unsure what to make of the situation.


    Bennett was the first to speak up with a voice tinged with a mix of concern and practicality. "We should¡­ uhh. We should  probably move her now while she''s calm and high as shit,"


    ¡°Ya, that¡¯s probably a good idea¡­¡± Coleman replied pulling off a nine bang from a pouch and giving Elijah an accusatory look. ¡°How much of that shit did you give her?¡±


    Elijah, noticing the look, put up both his hands in a defensive gesture. "Look, I tried to give her less than what was recommended, okay?" he explained, his tone a mixture of frustration and concern. "Elves clearly react differently to this stuff. I didn¡¯t expect it to hit her this hard."


    Coleman gave his medic an incredulous look before turning his attention back to his watch. "Look, just make sure she''s stable for the transport. I don¡¯t want her freaking out in the middle of the forest.¡± He said as Elijah grabbed Azeline¡¯s arm and hoisted her up into a fireman''s carry with a grunt.


    A surprised look came over Elijah¡¯s face once he got her settled on his shoulders. Despite her slender appearance, Azeline was surprisingly heavy. "God damn, she must be all muscle or some shit." He commented, adjusting his grip to better distribute her weight before walking towards Coleman.


    However, Azeline suddenly stirred in Elijah''s hold and pointed to her makeshift camfire. "Wait, wait," she mumbled, still completely out of it. She weakly pointed at her satchel lying right next to where she slept. "Can you grab the thingy thing? I need the thingy thing.¡± She slurred, trying to convey the importance of her belongings. ¡°It has all my bribe money and the patrol maps and the bribe money.¡±


    Everyone froze in place and turned to the woman as she hung limply on Elijah¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°Patrol routes? What do you mean by patrol routes?¡± Bennett questioned curiously as he and Coleman eyed the satchel intensely.


    "Mmmhmm, patrol routes," she said with a nod, her words slurred and her eyelids fluttering. "We got maps, lots of squiggly lines and dots... shows where the big, bad, shiny guys march and set up camp for when we smuggle stuff." She gestured vaguely in the air, as if drawing invisible lines.


    "And the bribe money?" Coleman chimed in, trying to piece together her disjointed information.


    A gasp resounded as Azeline slapped her mouth with her hand. "Oh, oh, the money! I completely forgot about the money!" She exclaimed with a sudden burst of energy, only to slump back down. "Yeah, we gave shiny coins to a shiny man. He told us secrets, lots of secrets. About the thingy maboops... with the Imperials." Her voice trailed off as she seemed to lose track of her thoughts. "Did I mention I can''t leave the bribe money? I need that to get past those stupid forts they just built."


    "Huh... ain''t that some shit," Elijah muttered, as Bennett jogged over to the satchel and began rummaging through it.


    As the engineer¡¯s pulled out and unfolded a piece of what felt like leather parchment, he let out a whistle. "God damn, they even got the rift on this bitch," he said with a voice full of awe and disbelief. He held the parchment up, revealing a detailed map that included not only troop concentrations and patrol routes but also marked areas that were deemed no go zones.


    It was a little rough, but it provided a general overview of key strategic points and it was still invaluable for its potential to offer a broader understanding of Imperial movements and fortifications if it wasn¡¯t out right garbage. However, they were still tasked to reconnoiter these areas and if there was even an inkling of truth to the map, then their jobs would be made a lot easier..


    After examining the map, Bennett recognized its significance despite its roughness. "This might not be perfect for detailed planning, but it''s a solid reference point," he noted. "It gives us an idea of what we''re dealing with."


    "Bag everything we can use. We only got a couple minutes until we bust out of here," Coleman instructed as his eyes stayed glued to his watch.


    Bennett carefully pushed the parchment back into the satchel and then proceeded to wander around the makeshift camp scooping up anything and everything that looked even remotely interesting or useful. As he finished gathering whatever he could, Bennett then secured the satchel tightly before he made his way back to stand next to Coleman.


    Checking his rifle, the engineer made sure he was ready to go as Coleman pulled the pin on his nine bang and started counting down over the radio. "Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Mark." As he shouted the last word, he threw the device deep into the forest.


    The nine bang was designed as a replacement to the standard M84 stun grenade. It was made to create multiple deafening and concussive explosions to disorient the enemy and it  worked exactly as intended. Almost immediately after Coleman''s throw, a series of loud blasts echoed throughout the forest at different locations. It wasn''t perfectly simultaneous, but the effect was just as effective.


    Startled by the sudden cacophony and bright flashes, the horde of Rotwings screeched in panic and in a large, chaotic mass, they took to the sky, fleeing in disarray. The dense canopy of the forest was momentarily filled with the dark silhouettes of the creatures, creating an almost surreal spectacle as they flew off into the distance.


    ¡°Boom, boom, boom, boom¡­¡± Azeline murmured in a dazed and distant tone. Her words were almost lost under the sound of the nine bangs and the panicking creatures.


    Coleman looked up through the canopy before turning back and looking at his men before giving them a nod of satisfaction. "Let''s move," he said, gesturing towards the path they took to get here.


    Taking the lead, Coleman confidently navigated through the forest, retracing the path they had previously trekked to find their new friend that rested on Elijah¡¯s shoulders. The medic himself followed closely behind Coleman while Azeline couldn¡¯t help but murmured observations of the chaos around them continued, though she remained in a dazed state due to the sedative.


    Bennett pulled up the rear to maintain some semblance of security in case any of those winged horrors stuck around. But it seemed that their vigilance was wasted due to the initial effectiveness of the nine bangs.


    While there wasn¡¯t a single Rotwing in the trees nor on the ground, he did notice the corpses of those monsters that Elijah had killed earlier were half eaten. ¡°These things are cannibalistic too. How endearing," he commented dryly, cringing at the sight.


    Elijah, trying to balance Azeline as he stepped over a massive root. "Nature''s charming in its own twisted way," he responded with a grimace.


    With a shake of their heads, the three men continued their journey through the now seemingly empty forest. Not a single Rotwing let alone any being bothered to stay behind after their little stunt, but the silence added another layer of eeriness that put them on edge. The exodus of the monsters must have more than likely drawn a few discerning eyes, so they needed to make like a tree and leave.


    Their new friend slowed the trek, but the three finally linked up with the rest of their squad and made their way to the rest of the ODA. The team in question had shit eating grins plastered all over their faces as they waited with the Vehicles.


    Sergeant Jason Kwon, the ODA¡¯s team sergeant, watched with a raised eyebrow as Elijah approached with their new charge. Kwon, a medium built Asian American, carried an air of authority and experience in his athletic frame that told of years of being in the field in multiple theaters of conflict. The Sergeant jumped out of his GMV and moved to Elijah¡¯s vehicle to open the door for him.


    ¡°Of course you¡¯d bring back a woman," the Sergeant teased with a hint of amusement in his voice and curiosity in his eyes. The slight accent in his voice hinted at his Hong Kong heritage, adding a unique aspect to his commanding presence. "Is she drooling on you?"


    A mischievous chuckle left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he bent down and placed her inside one of the GMV¡¯s. "Heheh, yeah, I swooned her," he explained.


    Kwon and the team laughed as they started to climb into their vehicles.. "Roofies don¡¯t count," The Sergeant joked as he shook his head.


    A snort left Colemans mouth as he climbed into the turret of his GMV. "Alright, alright. Wrap it up, let get the hell out of here before someone gets wise and checks this shithole out." The Team Leader interjected, before spinning a single finger in the air to signal to everyone it was time to make their leave.


    The engines of the GMVs hummed to life, and the convoy began to make their way out of the treeline, leaving the eerie forest in their wake.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 39

    Azeline''s mind was a chaotic mess of vivid dreams, induced by that damned human. Even in her unconscious state, her senses were alive with intense and disturbing memories of when she was a shield maiden.


    In the depths of her drug-induced dreams, Azeline''s mind wandered back to her early years, to a time when she was a young girl growing up in the unforgiving lands of the north. A land that was fractured and plagued by wars.


    Her village had been under the protection of a local lord, and unfortunately, said lord was both a traitor and a blasphemer. Thane Eirikr, the low ranking nobleman presiding over the land, had chosen to back the wrong deity during a period of heavenly upheaval known as the Divine Turbulence. This era was marked by intense infighting among the various gods, each vying for the souls and the devotion of the mortal realm. Thane Eirikr''s allegiance to a now fallen goddess had dire consequences for him and the people of his lands.


    The once peaceful and cozy community that Azeline had called home, had been razed to the ground. While the small village burned, and its men slaughtered. The survivors, including Azeline, were turned into thralls, forced to serve the new rulers and new gods.


    However, amidst this darkness, there was presented with a sliver of hope, a chance at redemption. Azeline was given the opportunity to forsake the name of the fallen goddess, forsake her family and accept a childhood devoid of any innocence or joy. To pledge her allegiance to Jarl Hrothgar, her conqueror and become a shieldmaiden.


    This transition for Azeline was far from easy or dignified. The path from thrall to shieldmaiden under the Jarl was laden with relentless challenges and trials that spanned years. It was a journey that tested not only her physical strength but also her mental and emotional resilience.


    Every day, Azeline and the other trainees were pushed to their limit, undergoing brutal and unforgiving training. They were taught how to wield swords, axes, spears and shields, how to fight individually and as a unit. But beyond the physical hardships, there was an emotional toll that weighed heavily on Azeline.


    Being a former thrall, she was often subjected to the disdain from those who saw her as nothing more than a conquered savage and she was only greeted with mockery and scorn from some of her peers. The emotional scars ran deep, as Azeline was forced to navigate a world where her worth was constantly questioned and her presence often unwelcome. Whispered insults and disdainful looks were a common occurrence, especially when the trainers and her betters would occasionally subject her to abuses and¡­ humiliations that slowly chipped at her will, but for Azeline, the price of failure was far steeper.


    However, the degradation and exploitation as a thrall that some of the warriors and cadre was a price Azeline was willing to pay. Being viewed as mere property and having her betters force themselves upon her paled in comparison to the threat of failure. In the north, a failed shield maiden, especially one with the background of a thrall, could be claimed by any Huscarl or Dreng as their property, relegated to a life of servitude and treated as breeding stock.


    The fear of returning to a life devoid of agency and avoiding the life of being a literal sex slave was a potent motivator for Azeline. She was determined not to succumb to the pressure, unlike many of her peers who had slowly dropped out one by one, unable to bear the physical and emotional burden.


    For Azeline however, the idea of living a life on her back and opening her legs for some knuckle dragging idiot was a far worse fate than a few years of pain and suffering. And if she was being honest with herself, Azeline couldn¡¯t quite understand how anyone could give up, considering how high the stakes were. By the time they had passed all their trials and completed their training, there were only a dozen or so girls left, including Azeline. She stood tall and proud, no longer a thrall but a free woman, a shield maiden recognized for her skill, strength and resilience.


    And among those who stood next to Azeline, was Ulina, another girl from her village she had grown up with. The two¡¯s bond was forged in the fires of their village, a kinship that had endured the wicked enthrallment of their people, and the grueling years of the shield maiden trials.


    Ulina, much like Azeline, had also refused to succumb to the fate that their captors had intended for them. Even during the darkest of times, the two became beacon of hope for each other and reminded each other that there were worst fates awaiting them should they fail.


    WIth the ceremony for their ascendance in full swing, Azeline stepped forward to claim her sword and shield, symbols of her new status and freedom. A deep sense of accomplishment and pride swelled inside of her as she glanced at Ulina, who shared the same triumphant look.


    But as Azeline reached out to take her sword, she felt herself starting to stir awake. The vivid dreams of her past were slowly fading, replaced by an odd sensation on her chest. It felt as if two tiny feet were jumping up and down on top of her.


    As her awareness returned, Azeline''s eyes fluttered open to spot a small scowling face with flames for hair and two glowing violet orbs for eyes.


    ¡°I think this one¡¯s broken!¡± The small being said, stomping on Azeline¡¯s chest once more before turning away. ¡°We should throw it away!¡±


    Azeline''s eyes went wide in horror as she stared at the small figure on her chest. A fairy, a real heaven¡¯s damned fairy was perched right there on top of her chest, seemingly inspecting her with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. The creature¡¯s fiery hair and glowing violet eyes appeared almost ethereal yet undeniably real as it stood there, pronouncing judgment on her.


    The sudden appearance of such a mystical and dangerous being was as horrifying as it was surreal. Especially when Azeline''s mind was still clouded from whatever concoction those strange humans had given her.


    ¡°Yana, leave the Elf alone.¡± A familiar and derisive voice leaked out beside her, albeit in a language she couldn¡¯t comprehend.


    "You can''t tell what the great Yanaiy¨¢niuoa''s to do!" The fairy exclaimed, her tiny voice filled with indignation. "Apostles aren''t supposed to order their goddesses around!"


    Still lying ramrod straight, Azeline remained as still as possible while her body tensed and her mind raced. The presence of such a whimsical and formidable being, filled her with a sense of dread. Fairies were often regarded as capricious and powerful creatures, never to be engaged with, let alone trifled with.


    The fairy stood defiantly with and authoritative as the being stared down what Azeline assumed was the owner of the voice. However, the man once again spoke up, but this time with a slightly more assertive tone, "Yana, if you don¡¯t leave her alone, I''m taking away the beef jerky."


    A look of both shock and offense spread across the fairy¡¯s face as she took a step back and placed a hand on her chest. A gasp of horror left the malicious creature''s mouth as if she had been mortally wounded, "f-fine! Fine be that way!¡± She yelled back, punching both hands down towards her side. ¡°Maybe you should go find another goddess then! Maybe go worship that stupid blood god or whatever!" She bellowed with a voice tinged with indignation.


    With a huff, the fairy kicked off Azeline''s chest and flew away.


    Still in a state of shock from the bizarre encounter, Azeline finally realized she had been holding her breath. Sucking in a huge gulp of air, the blonde woman then began to heave as her face turned a deep shade of red while she attempted to regain her composure.


    Knowing better than to think of the being gone, Azeline quickly sobered up and sat up, frantically scanning the surroundings in search of the mythical creature. For a moment, Azeline thought herself safe when she couldn¡¯t spot a sign of that fiery head, but she suddenly froze. There, sitting atop a strange green mass of metal, were a pair of glowing violet eyes, glaring daggers at her with an intensity that could only be described as malicious intent. Azeline''s heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with the tiny, nefarious creature and froze.


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    The fairy was almost camouflaged by the setting sun peeping through the swaying leaves, casting a warm, golden hue over the entire area. The serene atmosphere contrasted sharply with the earlier tension as the soft chirps of birds echoed in the background, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves.


    Azeline couldn¡¯t help but stare mouth agape as this¡­ Yanaiy¨¢niuoa threw one leg over the other and looked downwards in annoyance, but a heavy sigh next to her, snapped her out of her reverie. Flinching away, Azeline quickly snapped her head toward the sound and took in the sight of that strange ¡®healer¡¯ named¡­. Elijah or something.


    A look of exhaustion and annoyance colored the human''s face as he walked towards her rolling his eyes. The man acted as if dealing with such a powerful being like a fairy was a common, albeit tiresome, occurrence.


    "Don''t worry about the fairy; she''s just being moody because I made a joke the other day," Elijah said, handing a strange bag to Azeline that had a spoon sticking out of her.


    A distinct ''hmph'' sound came from the direction of the fairy as she snapped her head to the side in a huff. It was clear that the being was still miffed about this¡­ joke. But despite the menacing demeanor that was standard amongst the Fae, it was evident that this one was more petulant than threatening.


    ¡°Uh¡­. I uh¡­ thank you¡­?¡± Azeline mumbled in uncertainty as she accepted the bag from the supposed healer.


    Raising an eyebrow, Azeline examined the contents of the bag as the aroma of cooked meat and herbs wafted to her nose. She cautiously peered inside and found a steaming hot dish that she couldn''t recognize. The food looked nothing like the fare she was accustomed to in her own world. It was a mix of colors and textures that were both intriguing and foreign to her.


    Elijah, noticing her hesitation, offered an encouraging smile. "It''s beef stew," he explained. "It''s good, I promise. We figured you might be hungry after¡­¡± He started rotating his hand in a beckoning fashion as he tried to think of the words in her language. ¡°After the, uuh¡­ the fuckin¡¯... the everything."


    Azeline''s eyes flickered between the bag of stew and Elijah while her stomach growled audibly. However, she couldn''t quite shake the wariness that clung to her like a second skin. The food''s foreign appearance and overpowering tang of spices made her hesitant. Back in the north, anything unfamiliar often harbled hidden dangers or tricks, especially when offered by strangers, or worse, the Fae.


    However, the rich aroma emanating from the bag made it nearly undeniable and slowly, Azeline brought a spoonful of this¡­ ¡®stew¡¯ to her face and sniffed cautiously. A strange look then flashed across Azeline¡¯s face as she took in the unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant blend of herbs and spices.


    There was something not quite right about the mix of earthy and savory scents that tickled her senses.


    It was¡­ off-putting.


    With her stomach rumbling a second time, urging her to set aside her suspicions, she finally took a cautious bite. The flavors were a complex melody, rich and hearty, but something in the back of her mind nagged at her, suggesting this was not typical fare.


    ¡°Take a bite, it won''t hurt you.¡± Elijah said, trying to reassure her. ¡°You need food if you want to heal.¡±


    "I bet she''s gonna get the shits," Bennett elbowed Lister in the side with a twinkle in his eye.


    Lister¡¯s grin, however, spread wide across his face as he looked back at the rest of the team. "My money''s on constipation. That stew''s a gut bomb in disguise."


    It didn¡¯t take long for the team to start running a tally on Azeline¡¯s fate, but Elijah shot the men an angry glare which seemed to shut them up.


    Azeline on the other hand, couldn¡¯t understand a word but she clearly sensed that strange people weren¡¯t being malicious and just bantering. Ignoring them, the woman wrinkled her nose and in a mix of curiosity and determination, she took a leap of faith and bit down on the spoonful of stew.


    To her surprise, pure delight spread across her face as the burst of flavors danced across her tongue. The rich, hearty stew, with its tender chunks of beef and array of vegetables, was unlike anything she had ever tasted and the spices, though initially suspicious,created a satisfying dish. Sure she had much better food before, but when one was out in the middle of nowhere, sustaining themselves on dried meat held together by animal fat, then you¡¯d think this dish was made for kings.


    Soon, Azeline found herself eagerly shoveling spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, the initial hesitation forgotten, while Elijah turned back to her and smiled. ¡±See? Not bad, right?" he said while watching her virtually inhale her new found prize.


    With the apprehension gone, Azeline couldn¡¯t help but nod enthusiastically.


    Elijah huffed in amusement as he crouched down next to her and started rifling through one of the backs next to her. "Eat as much as you can. You need the energy, especially if you''re healing," he said, watching as Azeline continued to eat greedily before pulling out another Meal Ready to Eat (MRE).


    Opening the bag, Elijah started to prep the heating elements while hesitantly broached a more serious subject. "You know¡­ while we were out there in the forest, we came across a bunch of bodies not too far from where we found you... " he said, creasing his brow a little.


    The words caused Azeline to pause mid-bite. Her spoon hovering in the air as she slowly turned her head towards the healer and stared at him.


    "Were they...uhhh, your friends?" Elijah asked delicately, trying to gauge her reaction.


    Azeline''s grip on the spoon tightened slightly as anger crossed her features. She looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts before responding. "It¡¯s uh¡­ complicated," she said with a voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.


    ¡°Ahh.¡± Elijah nodded in understanding after putting two and two together. ¡°I get it. I guess no matter where you are, people can be difficult.¡± He continued, watching the tension in her hand slightly relax.


    "Especially with all these damned patrols and forts sitting around. Must be difficult to navigate through all that, only to have some ¡®friends¡¯ turn on you." Elijah¡¯s face remained light hearted and genuine, but he kept a close eye on Azeline¡¯s body language as he subtly guided the conversation. ¡°It¡¯s also been pretty bad for business.¡±


    Still processing the betrayal she had faced, Azeline found herself nodding in agreement. "Ya¡­ Ever since those Empire goons started fucking around further south of here, patrols have been becoming more intense.¡± She sighed as Elijah handed her a new bag of food. ¡°Whatever they did pissed off the local wildlife and monsters, making everyone¡¯s lives much more difficult.¡±


    Elijah scooted in closer with a much more interested and engaged look. "Sounds like things are really messed up around here. And then, to top it off, those losers probably thought they could pull one over on you and get rid of you while it was convenient, huh?" He continued, speaking animatedly with his hands.


    The man had hit the nail on the head as Azeline''s eyes flashed with fury. "Exactly!" She growled. "It''s all some stupid fucking power struggle between Kjadnar''s goons! I¡¯m considered an ¡®obsticale¡¯ so that fat chubby fuck thought to shove a spear in my back and blame the gods damned grove maws!" Her hands clenched into fists, reflecting the rage boiling inside her.


    Nodding sympathetically, Elijah maintains eye contact with the woman in order to show his genuine interest. "Man, that''s fucking rough... But hey, you survived, right?¡± He said, pulling out a cookie from the MRE bag. ¡°Hey, you know what? Maybe we can help each other get past those patrols and you can show those fucks what¡¯s what. What do ya say?" he offered, trying to sound as helpful as possible without overstepping.


    Meanwhile, a few feet away, the ODA team watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and exhaustion. Bennett, leaning against the vehicle with his arms crossed, shook his head slightly and muttered, "God, he''s such a manipulative piece of shit."


    Unable to disagree with the sentiment, Coleman stood there next to Bennett with a similar posture, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, but¡­ he IS useful, and he¡¯s OUR manipulative piece of shit." The team leader said, glancing over at the fairy. "The man has a way with words that gets people to open up. Useful skill to have in our line of work.¡±


    As the conversation continued, Azeline¡¯s hands clenched into fists as she muttered under her breath, "Those filthy backstabbing fucks. Fucking Einar, you motherless son of a fat fuck. I''ll snap your gods damned spine!"


    Elijah glanced back at his team with a look of triumph on his face before turning back to the Elf.


    ¡°Ya fuck that guy,¡± The medic said passionately as he adjusted himself. ¡°People who fuck over others just to get a little further ahead in the rat race can eat shit.¡± He continued before looking her dead in the eye. ¡°I get it though, But you know, there¡¯s only one thing you can do to make yourself feel whole again.¡±


    Azeline stared at Elijah with a mix of suspicion and exasperation. "You''re not gonna tell me to forgive them so my soul isn¡¯t consumed by the hells, or some other mystic bullshit are you?"


    A sinister smile spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he leaned in closer. "No," he said, turning around and grabbing something behind him and putting it in Azeline¡¯s lap. "You fucking kill them. Slowly."


    Shifting her eye¡¯s down to her lap, Azeline''s eyes fell upon her old sword. The familiar weight and cold touch of the metal felt reassuring against her fingers as a nostalgic sense of empowerment washed over her as she lightly tapped the blade with her fingertip.


    "Slowly, huh?¡± she responded with her voice taking on a dark, contemplative tone. ¡°That sounds rather... enlightening," Her sword was always a symbol of her past. A symbol of her freedom.


    Now however, the weapon now seemed to hold a new promise ¨C that of vengeance.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 40

    The once clear and peaceful skies of Cambridge, Ohio, were now etched with the contrails of every type of aircraft imaginable as sharp roars of engines and the thundering thumps of helicopter blades provided a near-constant backdrop to the daily hustle of the base.


    DuPont had seen the transformation unfold firsthand. Long gone were the Hesco barriers acting as a stop-gap measure for a hastily constructed forward operating base. In its stead, a sea of reinforced concrete stretched throughout the entire region for as far the eye could see. The sandbags and makeshift bunkers had been replaced by layered defenses, rows of concertina wire in front of thick blast walls as guard towers kept a vigilant eye for any sign of activity.


    But the superhuman feats of the engineer corps weren¡¯t the only new addition to the Ohio landscape as the streets of Fort Sentinel hummed with the symphony of military might. The earth vibrated beneath DuPont''s boots with each passing of the Canadian LAV III Armored Personnel Carriers rolled down the road with purpose. Closely behind the Canadian convoy were Dutch CV90s with a full complement of troops, moving in the direction of the gate to start their patrol.


    While waiting for the armored vehicles to rumble by, DuPont became lost in his thoughts as they turned to how all of this came to be. The patrols were much more than just a show of force; they had become a necessity. Monsters and other forms of wildlife that seemed to have been ripped straight out of a video game, had been regularly meandering through the rift and were starting to become a real big goddamn problem.


    After fighting back what is now known as the Seraphic ¡®Empire¡¯, reports from the surrounding states started to flood in. All across the eastern seaboard, cities were experiencing the same incidents: strange creatures only found from the anomalous zone in Ohio had started popping up and began attacking the civilian population. The incidents were sporadic but as time passed, the attacks started to increase in frequency, and with each report, the pressure on the base to plug the gap became heavier.


    However, in response to the savage and unprecedented aggression, a global alliance had rapidly formed. The invocation of NATO''s Article 5 had been a clarion call, one that resounded beyond the usual confines of the treaty. Nations from every corner of the world had come to answer the call, presenting a unified front against the otherworldly invaders. It was a coalition forged not merely in the spirit of mutual defense but in the defense of Earth as a whole.


    As DuPont moved through the base, he couldn''t help but reflect on the sheer magnitude of the mobilization. The build-up of personnel and equipment around him was staggering. Every open space had been converted to accommodate the influx of military assets. Vast motor pools were lined with armored vehicles of every type, airfields were crowded with a range of combat and transport aircraft, and barracks that once housed a few Battalions now teemed with international Brigades.


    The daily life of the soldiers had been transformed as well. Training exercises were no longer routine affairs but high-tempo operations simulating encounters with the alien threats. Language barriers were overcome out of necessity, as everything from Corps and Army Groups composed of multiple nationalities drilled side by side. The urgency of their mission was a language understood by all.


    At this point, the military build-up became an open secret that spoke volumes about the expectations of the high command. The discussions were no longer about ''if'' but ''when'' a counter-offensive was coming. The soldiers joked about it, the officers planned for it, and the very atmosphere of the multitude of military bases surrounding the rift was nearly bursting at the seams in anticipation.


    DuPont spotted his chance as the last armored vehicle in the Dutch and Canadian convoy rolled past, and bolted across the road just before an even longer column rumbled by. Behind him, the ground trembled anew as the mechanical growl of engines of Type 89 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, escorted by the imposing presence of Type 90 Main Battle Tanks from Japan, commanded the road.


    ¡°God damn¡­ Every-fucking-body is here.¡± DuPont murmured under his breath as he turned and continued his trek to his barracks.


    The Japanese were not the only Far Eastern allies making their presence known on the base. No, throughout the months, DuPont had noticed that even the Korean, Australian, and New Zealand military personnel and their distinctive equipment were present in the multinational coalition.


    Korean K2 Black Panther tanks rumbled alongside Australian Bushmasters, their robust frames a familiar sight on the training fields. New Zealand''s forces, though smaller in number, were no less significant as they joined in the field exercises in their LAV III variants called the New Zealand Light Armored Vehicles (NZLAV).


    But with a shake of his head, DuPont turned around as his mind was still trying to process the sheer magnitude of firepower concentrated in such a small area. As he made his way back to his barracks, the bustle and hum of the base surrounded him creating a vibrant mosaic of uniforms and languages.


    Every NATO member state was represented, each contributing its unique strengths to the joint effort. DuPont passed by a group of German soldiers conversing with their British counterparts while Polish soldiers hurried past.


    Even the Swedes were moseying around, staring curiously at their corn dogs they¡¯d bought from a food truck not too far away. The two blonde women gave each other a disturbed yet interested look before tentatively taking a bite. Initially, their expressions were a mix of skepticism and regret, but soon their faces softened into pleasant surprise. The initial hesitation gave way to genuine enjoyment as they took another bite, clearly finding the American snack more palatable than they had anticipated.


    As DuPont approached, he couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight. ¡°You two make it look like you¡¯re eating a stick of shit.¡± He abruptly said, causing the two to jolt in surprise.


    Surprised, the two women looked up and noticed DuPont''s incredulous expression as they continued to chew.


    "H-hey DuPont," one of them said, her accent tinged with a Nordic lilt. "We just thought of trying a quintessential American, uh¡­ delicacy," she added after finishing her latest bite.


    The woman speaking was Astrid, her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that swayed gently as she spoke. Her companion, Elsa, a dirty blonde, had her hair styled in a pragmatic bun, giving her a more stern appearance.


    DuPont couldn''t help but chuckle at their choice of words. "Delicacy, huh? I guess that''s one way to describe a corn dog."


    Elsa finished her own bite and smiled, "We''ve already tried the tacos here. They were quite good, actually. We''ve decided to try and eat our way through as much American cuisine as we can, while we can."


    Astrid nodded in agreement, her expression serious yet with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Who knows when we''ll get the chance again? At any moment we could be thrust into the heart of battle!"


    DuPont raised an eyebrow, "Uh huh, right. Just be careful with some of the stuff they serve here. Not everything''s as good as it looks."


    The two women let out an easy going laugh. "We''ll take our chances," Astrid replied with a grin. "We survived the deep fried ice cream and the chocolate covered bacon, so what''s the worst that could happen?"


    Taken aback by the admission, DuPont¡¯s widened and blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend what would compel someone to put any of that garbage near their mouths. As a matter of fact, if it were up to him, DuPont would have its creator and those propagating such blasphemous abominations, hanged for crimes against humanity. Who in their right mind would think of heresy?


    "Deep fried ice cream and chocolate-covered bacon? Seriously?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, DuPont chuffed in a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Just... try not to put yourselves in the hospital, okay?¡±


    The two girls laughed as they gave each other a knowing look. "We''ll try our best!"


    ¡°Anyways, I''ve got to head out. My superiors are summoning me," DuPont said, rolling his eyes in a good-natured manner. "Duty before deep-fried horrors, I guess."


    Elsa playfully saluted. "Good luck with the brass!"


    Astrid waved him off. "Take care! Don''t let them bully you too much!"


    As DuPont turned to leave, he caught the tail end of their conversation about their next culinary adventure. "What about Buckeye Balls? I heard they''re a big thing here in Ohio," Elsa mused, her eyes gleaming with excitement.


    Astrid''s curiosity piqued. "Buckeye Balls? That sounds... interesting. What are they?"


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    "They''re like peanut butter fudge balls, partially dipped in chocolate-¡±


    The conversation faded into the background as DuPont continued on his way, shaking his head. Looking around at the rest of the soldiers enjoying their food or engrossed in their own conversations, he couldn''t help but think about Astrid¡¯s words.


    She was right, at any moment they could be in full battle rattle rolling across the fields and through that rift. And if DuPont was honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than that.


    Heaving a sigh, DuPont made his way through the makeshift food court, he noticed the area was a melting pot of cultures. Groups of soldiers from various countries were gathered around the food stands, enjoying their meals as they enjoyed a brief respite from the near constant exercises and drills. The lively chatter of multiple languages blended together, creating a harmonious cacophony that resonated with what DuPont could only assume was what they¡¯d find on the other side of that strange tear in reality.


    Just as he left the bustling area, DuPont noticed a group of Japanese soldiers had their eyes wide with both amazement and slight apprehension as they inspected the massive American-sized burgers in their hands. Their expressions shifted between awe and uncertainty, eliciting a chuckle from DuPont as the man spotted his destination in the distance.


    The building was a long, rectangular structure with a more functional, no-nonsense design that was stereotypical of an American barracks. Its beige walls and green roof made one nearly puke at how bland it was. The structure was almost suffocating with its utilitarian nature, a stark contrast to the lively and vibrant atmosphere of the food court he had just left.


    However, as DuPont approached the barracks, he noticed a few unusual details that set today apart from the usual routine. There were Military Police (MP) stationed outside, standing ready and alert with their rifles hanging from their slings.


    Additionally, the Lieutenant spotted a couple of black sedans parked just outside the entrance. Their sleek and polished exteriors looked distinctly out of place against the utilitarian and military backdrop and suggested DuPont was in for much higher ranking personnel or officials or than he anticipated.


    Slowing his stride, DuPont came to a stop as he took in the scene.


    A mixture of apprehension and curiosity flowed through DuPont as he made eye contact with one of the MP¡¯s and in return, they watched the Lieutenant Carefully.


    As DuPont continued his approach, one of the MPs stepped forward, blocking his path. "Halt, sir.¡± They said, after spotting his rank on his uniform. ¡±This area is currently restricted. May I see your identification and orders?"


    Slightly taken aback by the fact his barracks had become ¡®restricted¡¯, the Lieutenant reached for his ID, feeling a twinge of nervousness mixed with irritation before presenting it.


    The MP''s eyes flicked up from the ID to DuPont''s face, then back down as he kept cross-referencing the information. "Lieutenant DuPont, is it?" the MP asked, his tone slightly softening but still maintaining professionalism. "We have orders to only allow personnel with specific clearance due to the high-ranking officials present.."


    A twitch of frustration flickered across DuPont¡¯s face as he furrowed his brow. " This is MY barracks and my superiors have literally told me to come here at this specific time. Can you check with someone inside?¡±


    Narrowing his eyes, the MP still holding DuPont''s identification glanced at his colleague with a hint of uncertainty. There was a brief, silent exchange between the two before one of them reached for their radio, pressing the push-to-talk button.


    "We have a Lieutenant DuPont here requesting access to the barracks. Claims he''s been summoned by his superiors," he relayed into the radio, his voice steady but slightly questioning.


    There was a pause as the MP listened intently to the response with an unreadable expression  while DuPont stood there, a mix of impatience and anticipation building within him. The seconds stretched out, feeling longer than they actually were until the MP finally spoke up again.


    "Yes, sir. Understood, sir.¡± The MP responded as he moved to the side.


    With a much more relaxed demeanor the other MP handed DuPonts ID back and stepped aside as well. "Apologies for the hold-up, Lieutenant. You''re cleared to enter. Please head straight to the briefing room on the second floor; they''re expecting you."


    A strange look flashed across the lieutenant''s face as he quickly retrieved his ID before offering the two men a curt nod. ¡°Thank you¡­?¡± He said almost questioningly as he made his way inside unsure what to make of what was happening.


    When he stepped inside, the usual clamor and activity that came with the daily life of a barracks were conspicuously absent. The halls were eerily quiet, with only the faint echo of his own footsteps accompanying him and the atmosphere seemed somewhat surreal.


    The interior was typical of what one might expect of military accommodations and was designed more for efficiency than comfort. But still the soldiers of Bravo company had managed to give the off-white nondescript walls some life while still straddling the line of regulation.


    While DuPont walked down the halls lit by Fluorescent lights, he noticed everything was left slightly ajar. Everywhere he looked were various personal items like half eaten food, drinks and other various trinkets were either left out or hastily stowed away. It was as if the occupants had been interrupted mid-task and told to promptly fuck off.


    To the side, in the common area, he also noticed that the massive flat screen TV was left on, showing a lone, unmoving figure consistently being beaten by a monster. Scattered about were signs of hasty departure: a half-played card game, a phone with a video playing, a coffee mug still steaming slightly¡­


    As DuPont continued his ascent up the stairs, the signs of a hasty departure became even more apparent. The stairwell typically echoed with the sound of banter and boots, but this time he was greeted with only silence.


    However, when he reached the second floor, DuPont''s sense of unease deepened. The corridor leading to the briefing room had a group of soldiers who didn''t bear the typical Military Police designation. As a matter of fact these men didn¡¯t bear any insignia at all and stood in a more casual and relaxed manner. Yet, there was an air of confidence and professionalism about them that suggested they were used to high-stakes situations and they seemed significantly more dangerous than some MPs.


    Even the equipment they carried wasn''t standard issue. DuPont noted the advanced communication devices that were worth more than his car, their sleek, compact weapons, and the state-of-the-art plate carriers. These were not ordinary troops; they were clearly part of some spook unit that demanded him to keep his questions to himself.


    Approaching the briefing room, the soldiers outside the briefing room glanced at DuPont with unreadable expressions as they sized him up. One of the operators, a tall figure man with a stern yet composed demeanor, stepped forward slightly.


    "Lieutenant DuPont?" the operator asked in a voice that managed to be both authoritative and inquiring.


    With his stomach tightening in knots, DuPont nodded, trying to mask his own apprehension. "Yes, that''s me. I was told to come here for a briefing?"


    ¡°ID?¡± The tall man requested, extending his hand


    DuPont quickly produced his identification, handing it over to the operator. The man inspected it closely, his eyes scanning every detail before handing it back with a nod of confirmation.


    "Mike, check him.¡± The operator said, turning his head back to one of his comrades.


    The man named Mike, someone managed to be simultaneously stocky and a giant of a man as he stepped forward. He let his short-barreled rifle hang from its sling and began to pat DuPont down.


    It wasn¡¯t his height that made DuPont comply so fast, it was the fact that he was buit like a brick shithouse. He felt like this undoubtedly season operator could lift him up with one arm and veritably toss him out of the window if he chose to do so. So DuPont decided that raising his arms in complete compliance would dramatically decrease the odds of them deciding to use violence.


    As the stocky giant conducted his check, DuPont¡¯s mind raced with possibilities and worries. He wondered if this had anything to do with his men ¨C had one of them crossed a line they shouldn''t have? The presence of those rabbit girl things on base had been a constant source of distraction, and DuPont couldn''t help but worry if one of his soldiers had gotten in trouble.


    Did one of them force themselves on one? Did someone get seduced and turn coat? Did someone give something they shouldn¡¯t have away because he couldn¡¯t keep his dick in his pants? The possibilities were endless and all of them were blasting through DuPont¡¯s mind like a firehouse.


    The thought of one of his men being seduced and potentially compromising them all to treason was enough to almost give him a heart attack.


    "He¡¯s clear," Mike finally said, stepping back and giving a brief nod.


    DuPont lowered his arms, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering tension. The tall operator, now identified by his name tag as Lieutenant Commander Smith, gestured towards the door with a tilt of his head.


    With a brief nod towards the door, the tall operator stepped to the side  "Alright, they''re waiting for you inside, Lieutenant," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement after witnessing the multitude of panicked expressions flash across DuPont¡¯s face.


    Giving the men a curt and somewhat robotic nod in response, DuPont basically threw himself through the door. Once inside, he found that his mind still swirled with thoughts as he looked around inside the briefing room. The atmosphere was charged with a palpable sense of gravity as high-ranking military officers in their crisp uniforms and several officials in sharp suits turned around to look at him.


    But what really caught DuPont''s attention was the presence of a rather striking figure - a petite woman with long, flowing silver hair that cascaded down her back. Her skin was almost translucently white, giving her an otherworldly appearance. But what was most unusual were her ears.


    Both of them stretched almost as long and wide as her forearms.


    As the woman turned around, she took in the sigh of the Lieutenant, showing him her ethereal beauty and brilliantly bright eyes as they stared at him expectantly.


    The room was silent for a moment and the air thick with anticipation. All eyes were on DuPont as he stood there, momentarily taken aback by the surreal scene before he finally came to his senses.


    ¡°Wait¡­ Aren¡¯t you¡­?¡± DuPont¡¯s voice trailed off as he started to recall that unmistakable face all those months ago.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 41

    Yzael studied the man before her intently. His features were unfamiliar, yet something about his presence sparked a distant memory.


    The tone of his voice, as he started to speak, resonated within her, igniting a sense of recognition that she couldn''t quite place. It wasn''t a clear or concise memory. It was more like a shadow flickering at the edge of her consciousness, but it was still compelling enough to make her believe that this was the person she had been seeking.


    ¡°Wait¡­ Aren¡¯t you¡­?¡±


    As the man¡¯s words trailed off and he sunk into his own thoughts, Yzael''s own mind began to race. ¡°I believe that I am.¡± She said, looking back at Toivonen, who simply nodded as she stood there with her arms crossed.


    Taking a step forward, Yzael extended her hand toward the man, her gesture one of both curiosity and diplomacy. "Yzael," she introduced herself simply, her voice carrying a melodic quality that seemed to resonate within the room.


    The man, still battling with the fog of confusion, hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand. He still had a deer in the headlights look, and the words were still stuck in his mouth, but Yzael didn¡¯t seem to mind.


    A soft smile spread across her face as she decided to lighten the mood a bit. "This is the standard greeting for the humans of this world, right?" she asked with a regal and inquisitive demeanor.


    ¡°Oh, shit-! I mean, I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am.¡± He said, squeezing her hand firmly and shaking it. ¡°Lieutenant DuPont, Ma¡¯am.¡± DuPont replied respectfully as he stood at attention.


    Yzael''s smile broadened, which caused her already radiant features to brighten after hearing Lieutenant DuPont''s formal response. ¡°Lieu¡­ Lieuten¡­ Mr. Dupont.¡± She let out a small, musical giggle, filling the room with a sense of warmth and ease. ¡°Forgive me, I¡¯m unable to pronounce that word yet.¡±


    "But you don''t have to be so formal with me, Mr. DuPont," Yzael continued with an amused tone. "Just a few months ago, I was nothing more than a mercenary with ill intentions, albeit one who was tricked into harboring them."¡¯


    Taken aback and unsure what to do, DuPont glanced briefly over her shoulder at the high-ranking officers in the back of the room, seeking guidance on how to proceed. However, he was only greeted with a stern and gruff look and Dupont¡¯s eyes quickly landed on the part of the officer¡¯s uniform that harbored his rank.


    And he saw so many goddamn stars that he thought he saw a constellation.


    Not only that, the officer''s expression offered no clear direction, so DuPont turned back to Yzael, deciding to continue the conversation as normally as he could under the circumstances.


    With his head spinning, DuPont decided to brave the dangerous waters he found himself in. "It''s no problem at all, Ma¡¯am." DuPont responded, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "And I must say, you''re doing exceptionally well with the language, given how recently you must have started learning it."


    Yzael''s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. DuPont. I have been trying my best to adapt and understand your world better."


    The room fell into a brief and awkward silence following the exchange and DuPont could feel the weight of so many eyes on him. And each of them could ruin his life with an errant thought. With the stakes so high, he became acutely aware of every move and sound someone made.


    As the anticipation grew too much, DuPont opened his mouth to break the silence, but Yzael spoke up first. "You must be wondering why we have... well, I have called you here, yes?" Her voice softly rang out.


    DuPont nodded, relieved that she had broached the subject furst. "Yes, ma''am.¡± He replied as the officers and officials behind the Elf looked at each other.


    Momentarily shifting her gaze away from DuPont, Yzael¡¯s eyes scanned the room and looked at the high-ranking officers and officials as a brief flicker of uncertainty crossed her face before turning back to DuPont. After a few moments, her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out as a strained and almost pained expression flashed across her face.


    In an attempt to regain her composure, Yzael took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Mr. DuPont," she began, her voice slightly wavering, "I have a question that has been weighing on my mind since I arrived in your world."


    The Lieutenant''s expression turned attentive. He started to sense the next few questions would impact her heavily, so he needed to choose his words carefully.


    "Are you... the one who saved my life?" Yzael asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her brilliant eyes searched his.


    The question caught DuPont off guard, his mind racing back to the events that had transpired. He remembered a chaotic battle and the crazed werewolf-like monsters that rampaged through the streets of New Philadelphia.


    "¡­ Yes, I was part of the team that found you," DuPont finally responded, his voice steady but still cautious. ¡°We found you wounded in the basement of a liquor store."


    As Yzael listened, her expression remained neutral yet deeply contemplative. The acknowledgment of his role in her rescue seemed to prompt another line of inquiry and one that appeared to be crucial to her understanding of what took place.


    After a brief pause, she continued her questioning, "Was there anyone else there with you during the rescue?¡± Her voice was steady but there was an undercurrent of urgency hidden within it. ¡°A large man, perhaps¡­? Wearing a white and blue gambeson, with short dark brown hair and a short, full beard?"


    DuPont''s brows furrowed slightly as he recalled the scene. The memory of the battle was still fresh in his mind as vivid recalled the small kobolds and medieval-style footmen rushing their positions. One moment, his team was in control, mowing down waves of enemies at an intersection; the next, they were nearly overrun by crazed werewolves that tore through their ranks like a hot knife through butter.


    No static position was safe, and they were forced into a position of constant retreat, despite the support from Bradleys and Abrams. Each enemy wave seemed to have a response to whatever they threw at them. One minute one of their tanks would obliterate an advancing enemy element, only to have some chuckle fuck with a stick knock them out or get a mobility kill.


    "Ya, I saw a man fitting that description," DuPont said as he started to recall the specifics of that fateful day. "We engaged a couple of those werewolves, or beastmen if you will, that ran into the liquor store," he started, pointing towards Yzael. "That you were sheltering in."


    Yzael nodded, encouraging him to continue. Her eyes held a mix of apprehension and a need for understanding, urging DuPont to reveal more about the events that had led to her rescue.


    ¡°Well, we managed to neutralize one of the creatures as it entered the store, but¡­¡± DuPont took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. ¡°But the other one... it got away from us initially. We chased it to the back and that''s when we heard a scuffle."


    He paused for a moment, shifting his gaze around the room before continuing. "There was a man, fitting the description you gave," DuPont continued, "He was wrestling with the creature, trying to prevent it from getting into the basement."


    It was subconscious, but Yzael hands slid to the hems of her coat and gripped tightly. Even as her face maintained a semblance of neutrality her eyes began to narrow as she braced herself for what she was about to learn.


    "Continue¡­" Yzael said in a barely audible voice that was laden with an intensity that filled the room.


    DuPont paused, observing the tension in her voice and body language. "The man... when we approached him, he was already badly hurt, barely conscious.¡± DuPont explained, his voice maintaining a professional and clinical tone.¡± But he pointed towards the basement door,"


    Yzael''s breath hitched slightly, her anticipation palpable.


    "I didn¡¯t understand his words, but his intention was clear. I''m pretty sure he was begging us to save you. His last act was to ensure your safety." DuPont continued, but when he opened his mouth to finish, the words hung in his mouth.


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    At that moment, a palpable shift occurred in Yzael''s demeanor. Her grip on the coat tightened further, and the air around her seemed to thrum with a strange and arcane power. "You must tell me the fate of that man," she demanded with an uncharacteristic forcefulness.


    Taken aback by the sudden intensity in her tone, DuPont hesitated. It was almost imperceptible, but he could sense something lingering in the air¡­ something very old. There was a heavy silence, one that seemed to stretch on, as everyone waited for his response.


    "Ma''am," DuPont began, his voice measured but tinged with a hint of caution, "after we eliminated the threat, we turned our attention to the man, but he had already expired.¡±


    A hush fell over the room as the gravity of DuPont''s words settled in. Yzael stood motionless, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions ¨C grief, gratitude, and a profound sense of loss. Her hands slowly released the grip on her coat, and she took in a deep, steadying breath.


    "I see," she said quietly.


    Yzael nodded slowly, her gaze distant yet filled with a newfound resolve. "Thank you, Mr. DuPont, for sharing this with me.¡± She said before turning around to the litany of high ranking personnel behind her.


    ¡°I will tell and teach your scholars everything I know about the arcane," Yzael announced, her voice now carrying a tone of purpose. "I will teach them the principles of every spell I know, how I manipulate magic, and every ounce of experience I have gained over the two thousand years of my existence."


    The room reacted with excitement as the officers and officials exchanged glances and started murmuring amongst themselves. The potential knowledge Yzael offered could be a game-changer in the ongoing conflict in terms of planning and mitigation.


    "But," Yzael continued, her voice growing firmer, "I have one more request."


    All eyes snapped to her as the room fell silent once more.


    Toivonen, who had been observing the proceedings with a keen eye, stepped forward and nodded to indicate she was listening.


    "I wish to find Gideon¡¯s body and give him a proper sending," Yzael stated, her voice resonating with a deep respect and solemnity. "He deserves at least that much."


    Toivonen turned to speak with a general in hushed whispers and after a brief exchange, she looked back at Yzael and nodded. "We will fulfill your request to the best of our ability," the intelligence officer assured her.


    -


    ¡°I apologize for speaking out of turn Mistress¡­ But I believe these attacks to be a distraction.¡±


    In the lavishly decorated war chamber of the Seraphic Empire, Duchess Vyrrasha, a regal and imposing Dragonkin noblewoman that presided over the meeting in the heart of Aldenshore.


    The Duchess boasted an exotic plumage of red feathers that covered her body and gave her a majestic and intimidating aura. Each feather seemed to shimmer with a life of its own that reflected her status and also represented the fiery nature of her spirit. And with that fiery spirit, came a fiery personality.


    All of Vyrrasha¡¯s advisors seem to flinch and shrink as her smoldering glare floated across the room as she slowly and deliberately turned her head. Her hateful gaze passed over each soul present, boring into the Sun elves, the feathered and scaled Dragonkin, and even the Humans that acted as her counsel. But it wasn¡¯t until the Duchess¡¯ eyes settled on an ashen colored female commander with ears as long as a High Elf, long powerful legs and a succubus-like tail that was signature among the Tauri tribes of the far south.


    The Tauri woman¡¯s long golden hair seemed to bounce as she looked down while her bright yellow pupils shook and pitch blackness of her sclera widened.


    ¡°Commander Sestri, I do not recall allowing such a lowly barbarian permission to speak." The Duchess hissed angrily as her clawed hands sunk deeply into the wood arms of her chair. ¡°I¡¯ll give you only one chance to explain yourself¡­


    The Commander nearly jumped out her skin at the Duchess'' words. She should have known better after seeing how livid she was about her peers'' incompetence, but Sestri firmly believed there was a lot more at play than a mere probing attack.


    "Y-Your Grace, Duchess Vyrrasha," Sestri began, her voice a smooth and deep voice seemed to reverberate throughout the chamber, "my intentions are not to overstep but to provide insight that may be critical to our strategy." Her eyes flickered up and down repeatedly as she maintained a lowered posture


    Duchess Vyrrasha¡¯s feathers bristled with barely contained rage, yet her interest was piqued. A noblewoman of her standing was not one to ignore potentially valuable intelligence, even if it came from an unexpected and traditionally less respected source.


    "I-I believe¡­." Sestri continued, but hesitated briefly. " I believe that the recent attacks on Count Zirathral''s border forts are not simply probing attacks to test our defenses but are part of a larger, more calculated effort a-and...¡±


    Suddenly a loud crack rang out, interrupting Sestri¡¯s words as Vyrrasha¡¯s fiery eyes bore into the Tauri Commander.


    "Enough of this dithering!!" Vyrrasha barked as the once grand arms of her regal chair snapped in half. The advisors flinched and sent their own glare at the barbarian as a low growl left their Duchess¡¯ mouth. "Speak plainly, Commander Sestri, or I swear by the Ancestors I''ll have you and your filthy tribe set to the flame!¡±


    Sestri''s heart raced, but she knew the importance of her observations. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.


    "Y-Your Grace!" Sestri started to speak hastily. "The attacks were too precise, too controlled! They weren''t just testing our defenses; they were creating openings! And I suspect their true goal was to send small groups of scouts or harassers through these gaps to wreak havoc behind our lines, to distract and divide us further!¡±


    As Commander Sestri spoke, a Sun Elf advisor stood tall with an air of arrogance that only centuries of life could imbue. His expensive and ornate robes were a cascade of fine silks, shimmering with the symbols of his esteemed position as he looked at the Tauri with contempt.


    "Bah, what Nonsense! What evidence do you have to support such an outlandish claim?" he demanded, his eyes narrow slits of derision as he focused on Sestri. The War Council seemed to rally behind him, nodding and muttering in agreement, their disdain for the Tauri commander''s theory apparent. ¡°Lady Vyrrasha, with all due respect, I once again protest against letting this slave near your presence let alone speaking amongst those far above her slovenly station!!¡±


    Sestri, feeling the pressure of the room''s doubt and hostility, struggled to maintain her composure as her head snapped to each advisor with a look of horror on her face. Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve did not waver. "The locations of the attacks! the manner of their execution! None of it makes sense for a mere probing attack!¡± she asserted.


    Another member opened their mouth to give another verbal lashing when the Tauri spoke up louder to continue justifying her opinion. "The forts they targeted weren''t strategically valuable! They were poorly positioned and even more poorly constructed!¡± Sestri marched forward and jabbed her finger onto the massive map that highlighted the location of every unit, every fortification and every supply route. ¡°See!? They¡¯re surrounded by dense forests that limit visibility and movement, and they¡¯re too close to the Druid''s Forest!¡±


    ¡°Besides, this is-¡± Sestri tried to get out one more point, but was interrupted by Vyrrasha.


    ¡°The very same ploy you and your damned people used against ME." Vyrrasha finished Sestri''s sentence as her memory went back to the campaign to pacify the Tauri tribes and the Necropolis in that god forsaken desert.. causing an involuntary shiver to pass through the room. The Duchess''s face was a mask of fury, her feathers practically standing on end as her piercing gaze swept over her council. "And that damned ignorant and arrogant fool Zirathral had more than likely let them through if you¡¯re correct¡­¡±


    Vyrrasha slammed her fist down onto the table, making several advisors flinch. "Korthax was a damned fool for putting him in charge of the vanguard, the idiot has left us too exposed, too vulnerable!" she spat out, her voice dripping with venom. "That buffoon allowed a mere probing attack to put three of our dragons out of commission, and an entire flight of wyverns killed¡­¡±


    The Duchess''s tirade continued unabated, her voice rising with each word. "And our so-called Emperor!" Vyrrasha bellowed, causing everyone in the room to stiffen, "A greedy, power-hungry tyrant, never satisfied and constantly reaching far beyond his means at the expense of others!" Her words were sharp as daggers, and the tension in the room was palpable as she cursed the Emperor''s name, an act that made everyone look away, half in fear, half in disapproval.


    She paced back and forth, her feathers flaring with each step. "I wouldn''t be surprised if this was another one of his tricks to rid himself of anyone he deems troublesome," she hissed, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The world would have been better off if the filthy half breed had been a stillborn."


    A hushed gasp went through the room at the Duchess''s blasphemous words. One of the Seraphic advisors, a tall, slender Sun Elf with a face etched in worry, finally spoke up, his voice meek but carrying a tone of reprimand. "Your Grace, that is too much... Please, consider the implications of such words."


    Vyrrasha halted in her tirade, her chest heaving with each breath. She had been dragged out to the middle of nowhere to act as a figurehead, a Supreme Commander with no real power. They had set up the command structure with politics in mind, where her peers got to execute the defense of the outer territories however they wished, organizing themselves while leveraging her reputation and finances. Vyrrasha didn''t even have the authority to prevent the infighting and was left to clean up the mess as Imperial armies even burned the villages and sometimes small towns of the vassal states.


    Her role was a cruel joke, and she legitimately thought this was a means to kill her through political machinations while the incompetent enacted their own agendas under the guise of her command. Every victory was theirs, and every failure was hers to bear.


    Her military acumen and years of command reduced to nothing but a title, paraded in front of the masses and the nobility alike.


    ¡°I want constant patrols screening us and those incompetent fools," Vyrrasha finally said with an almost defeated voice as she sank back into her chair, the remnants of her once grand armrests lying forgotten on the floor. ¡°If Commander Sestri and the reporting from the expeditionary force were to be believed, then every patrol must maintain a minimum ten-meter spread and one mage in each squad.¡±


    The Duchess then placed her clawed hand on her face to cover her eyes and heaved a depressed sigh.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 42

    ¡°Gods¡­ How much longer do we have to keep walking¡­?¡±  Talarion grumbled as he and Ryffka made their way through a vast field of green chest-high grass tipped with golden wheat-like heads.


    The field seemed to stretch out like what seemed like an endless sea around the two as every so often a gentle breeze would blow in, relieving them slightly from the overbearing heat. The sun hung oppressively in the clear blue sky like a relentless orb of fire that seemed to suck the moisture right out of the air.


    "We should have been in Aldenshore by now," Talarion groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow with a dirty sleeve. "It''s just a day''s travel."


    Ryffka let out a long, drawn-out sigh with a tired voice tinged with annoyance. "It''s a day''s travel on horseback, not on foot," he corrected while his gaze remained fixed on the seemingly endless stretch of grass.


    The Stymph''s arms hung limply at their side as he heaved one hot breath after another as his discomfort started to edge near unbearable. Ryffka¡¯s body was not designed for such prolonged exposure to intense heat. Without the ability to cool himself like a lot of the mortal races in the realm, the sun became much more dangerous. Normally, his nomadic kind would usually travel along bodies of water during the summer months, taking advantage of the cooler environment and the ability to submerge themselves should they get too hot during their travels.


    However, as they made their way northward, Ryffka had decided against traveling along the waterways, fearing they might inadvertently stumble upon a patrol or attract unwanted attention. It was a calculated risk, one that prioritized their safety over personal comfort. But now, as the sun scorched the earth and the vast field offered no shade, he was beginning to second-guess that decision.


    ¡°Okay, but¡­¡± Talarion''s voice droned on, blending into the background hum of the world as Ryffka focused all his energy on putting one foot in front of the other. The Stymph''s thoughts were foggy as his head started pounding with the onset of heat exhaustion. Every step felt heavier, every breath hotter and more arid than the last. But he couldn''t stop; they had to keep moving.


    In a moment of desperation, Ryffka reached to his side and fumbled for the waterskin hanging from his belt. With shaking hands, he brought it to his lips and tilted his head back, gulping down the precious, life-giving water with a greed born of necessity. The cool liquid was a balm to his parched throat, offering a momentary relief from the relentless sun.


    For a brief moment, as the water trickled down his throat, the world seemed to stand still. Ryffka closed his eyes, allowing himself the smallest respite, feeling the water revive him slightly. But as the waterskin emptied, the harsh reality of their situation settled back upon him.


    That was supposed to last him a lot longer¡­


    Ryffka''s mind raced as he tried to conjure up a map of the area in his head. There had to be some source of water nearby ¡ª a pond, a creek, anything to get some relief from this oppressive heat. But the land around them offered no such salvation. There were just endless fields of gold-tipped grass swaying under the sun''s brutal gaze.


    The poor man couldn¡¯t help but hang his head in regret, wishing that he had taken the time to more thoroughly scout the area, but there was just no reason to. It was just endless fields and roaming herds.


    As the Sun Elf behind continued to complain, Ryffka felt as if he was starting to go insane. But suddenly, Talarion let out a frustrated groan as if he made the worst mistake of his life. "I should have just married what''s-her-face¡¯s ugly daughter and stayed in my shithole village."


    The words struck Ryffka like a bolt of lightning. He snapped his head towards Talarion, his eyes wide with a sudden realization. He reached out, grasping Talarion''s shoulders and giving him a vigorous shake. "You''re a genius!" he exclaimed, startling Talarion.


    "There should be a village! It sprang up not too long ago, not far from here," Ryffka continued, his voice quickening with excitement.


    Talarion, taken aback by the sudden intensity, met Ryffka''s gaze with a bewildered expression. "What? A village? What are you on about?" he asked, trying to pull away.


    Ryffka''s grip tightened momentarily as he almost shook Talarion in his excitement. "Yes, a village! I remember spotting a few new settlements a few months back during a scouting mission. They weren''t too far from here," Ryffka insisted, his voice a mix of hope and determination. "We can rest there, get out of this sun, and more importantly, get resupplied!"


    Talarion, still a bit dazed from the shaking, rubbed his shoulders as he tried to process the sudden change in their situation. "Oh... I thought you were suggesting something about marrying an ugly country bumpkin for a moment there," Talarion said, scratching his head.


    ¡°No you fool!¡± Ryffka replied, quickly getting behind him and pushing the man along. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you helped the commander extort those villages a few months ago!?"


    "Come on before I drop dead from this gods damned heat!" Ryffka barked, forcibly urging Talarion along and nearly causing the Elf to trip.


    A scowl formed Talarion¡¯s face as he stumbled forward before regaining his footing. With irritation clearly etched on his face, he spun around and growled. "Why the hell am I supposed to lead the way!?" Talarion shrugged Ryffkas grip off and flailed his arms violently. "Aren''t you a scout? You''re the one who''s supposed to know where everything is!"


    Scoffing in retort, Ryffka rolled his eyes and gave Talarion a harder shove, saying, "Ya, ya, ya. Just get a move on and lead the way."


    Surprised by the shove, Talarion tripped backwards but managed to spin and catch himself as he stumbled forward. Throwing his head over his shoulder, the Elf glared at Ryffka while muttering a string of curses under his breath, but relented and started walking. "It''s this way¡­¡±


    For hours the two continued their trek, the sun climbing higher into the sky as its rays became increasingly unforgiving and when it reached its zenith, marking the hottest time of the day, the heat intensified.


    Even Talarion, who was much more resilient to the heat than a Stymph, started to feel his own strength waning with each step. The harsh conditions showed no mercy, and it became even more evident when he glanced back at Ryffka and saw that he had fallen behind.


    The Stymph was struggling to put on foot in front of the other and looked as if he might collapse at any moment. Talarion broke out into a run and quickly closed the distance between them before grabbing onto and steadying Ryffka.


    "Hey, hey! Don''t keel over just yet!" Talarion exclaimed as he examined his partner. The Stymph''s face was drawn with exhaustion, his skin paler than usual, and his breathing ragged.


    Without hesitation, Talarion pulled off his water flask and with trembling hands, Ryffka reached out and weakly gripped onto the water skin before desperately bringing it to his lips.  As Ryffka drank, Talarion couldn¡¯t help but frown. Ryffka''s usually vibrant feathers, which on any other day would flutter and move animatedly on their own, now lay limp and scalding to the touch. Each feather, a unique and typically lively extension of Ryffka''s being, felt as if one could cook an egg on it.


    Under normal circumstances, Stymphs could manipulate their feathers in expressive and practical ways, often using them to communicate or express themselves. And much like hair for humans or elves, these feathers grew long and full, most reaching down to their lower back. But now, the heat had turned each of Ryffka''s feathers into a furnace, trapping heat close to his body and exacerbating his condition.


    ¡°How much farther do we have to go..." Ryffka murmured weakly between labored breaths, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned heavily on Talarion.


    Talarion, maintaining a firm grip on Ryffka, tried to exude a confidence he didn''t feel. The truth was, he was just as uncertain about their location and how much further they had to travel as Ryffka. He remembered the general direction that the commander took to get to the cluster of villages ¡ª northeast, towards the Dwarven Mountains.


    His gaze constantly swept the horizon and saw that the grasslands offered little more than the occasional tree or rock formation. Every feature seemed to blur together, creating a landscape of unending waves of golden headed grass. Panic began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. Had they veered off course? Was his memory failing him? The possibility of them being hopelessly lost started to drive him mad.


    But just as despair started to tighten its grip, something in the distance caught his eye. Distinct, dark tendrils snaked up into the sky, outlining themselves against the clear blue.


    "There!" Talarion pointed, his voice cracking with a mix of hope and urgency. "Smoke, do you see it? That''s got to be the village!"


    After gulping down the remainder of Talarion''s water, Ryffka felt a massive wave of relief wash over him. The water did little to alleviate the oppressive heat, but it was enough to bring his world back into focus.


    Lifting his head, Ryffka narrowed his eyes and utilized his keen sight to discern the rising smoke. However, a great sense of unease started to twist in his gut.


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    "Wait..." Ryffka murmured, his voice strained but urgent. "There''s too much smoke. That''s not normal-¡±


    "It''s probably just them burning the summer fields or something.¡± Talarion cut Ryffka off by yanking him off the ground and dragging him along. ¡°Plus, we don''t have much of a choice anymore, you drank all the water.¡±


    A yelp left Ryffka¡¯s mouth as felt himself be yanked forward. Snapping his head up to glare at Talaroin, Ryffka opened his mouth to protest, but the words failed to come out. Not only did he not really have the energy to argue, but he couldn¡¯t really disagree with the Elf¡¯s assessment.


    They didn¡¯t have a choice.


    Even if there was a feral dragon setting every peasant to flame, their lack of water and growing exhaustion left them with little choice but head towards the source of the smoke.


    But as they neared, it became very apparent that the source of the smoke wasn¡¯t some kind of summer burn. No, the village itself was being devoured by flames as thatched roofs and wooden pillars sent columns of smoke into the sky. With each step forward, the air slowly became thick with the smell of burning wood and something far more acrid¡ª the unmistakable scent of charred flesh.


    The shrill screams and cries of agony piercing through the occasional crackling and popping of the fire confirmed their worst fears. This was no accident nor a controlled burn. It was an attack.


    In the heat and haze of the day, as the relentless sun bore down upon them, Ryffka''s keen eyes caught the distinct movement of several men on horseback patrolling the outskirts of the burning village. They moved with purpose, likely acting as a screen to intercept or hunt down any fleeing villagers or unwanted witnesses.


    "Horsemen!" Ryffka yelled, a note of panic in his voice as he pointed towards the rapidly approaching riders. "We need to run!"


    But before he could take even a step, Talarion''s firm grip on his arm stopped him. "No!" Talarion hissed, locking eyes with Ryffka. "Even if we weren''t exhausted, we wouldn''t outrun riders, especially not in this open field!"


    Ryffka''s heart pounded in his chest as the reality of their situation settled in. They were out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. The riders, likely screens for the raiding party quickly started to close the gap.


    Talarion''s grip on his falchion tightened, his knuckles whitening as he recognized the colors and emblems of the riders as they came into focus. It was a noble house he had ridden with before on many expeditions to pacify the countryside and ¡®acquire¡¯ supplies from the villages and towns in the area. Lord Saralor''s retinue, a noble house well known for its horse breeding and aggressive tendencies.


    And Talarion knew mostly all of the skirmishers that rode this side of the territories, so it looked like he was going to have to talk his way out of this one.


    As the riders closed in, Talarion stepped forward, his stance defensive yet open, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Hail, men of Lord Saralor!" he called out from across the field, raising a friendly hand. ¡°By the gods am I glad to see you!¡±


    The riders'' hard gallop started to slow as they took a much less aggressive approach as the lead horseman, a rugged-looking and sunkissed human with a weathered face and eyes sharp as a hawk''s, squinted at the two mountless interlopers as he approached. His horse, a massive chestnut colored stallion, snorted and pawed at the ground, agitated by the smell of smoke and chaos.


    "Tal? What the infinite hells are you doing out here?" the horseman called out with a tone mixed with surprise and suspicion. He eyed Ryffka, who had uneasily hid behind Talarion and looked away nervously


    "I figured you dead like the rest of Count Harmswid''s boys on the border," the horseman continued, his expression softening slightly but still guarded. ¡°What you doin¡¯ with a damned Stymph?¡±


    Talarion, masking his nerves under a well-practiced facade , responded with a blend of half-truths and omissions. "Gods, you wouldn¡¯t believe it, Raf¡­¡± he said, pulling off his kettle helmet and running his fingers through his unkempt hair. "The Stymph and I were the only survivors of that gods forsaken attack. Black horrid flying beasts swooped out of the sky spitting fire and death, carrying strange men who descended from their bellies on ropes. We barely made it out with our lives."


    He casually left out the part where they had fled at the first sign of trouble, knowing full well that admitting such cowardice, even if it was the smarter choice, would have them hung as deserters.


    The horseman named Raf seemed to mull over Talarion''s words, his gaze shifting between the two survivors. After a moment, he nodded slowly, as if accepting the explanation, albeit with a hint of doubt. "Truly? The only survivors?" He asked gruffly. "The fort was slaughtered to nearly a man and it looked like they barely had enough time to even leave their post.¡±


    Raf''s skepticism was evident in the way he scrutinized Talarion, his brow furrowed, and his eyes unyielding. The horseman was no stranger to battle and how surviving one that went as bad as those forts was very unlikely. But he knew Talarion was a resourceful and conniving son of a bitch, so it was completely out of the realm of possibility.


    I know you, Tal. You''re a survivor, always have been," Raf said, though the underlying tone suggested he was aware of Talarion''s less-than-noble characteristics. "And I know better than to take everything at face value, especially with you."


    He paused for a moment, then continued, "But ain¡¯t for me to judge.¡± Raf said, squinting his eyes as it roamed the field. ¡°Your fort ain¡¯t the only one that god attacked, them otherworlders are lurkin¡¯ around these parts attackin¡¯ supply caravans and pickin¡¯ off commanders.¡±


    Talarion''s brow furrowed as he processed Raf''s words. The casual brutality of the situation made him uneasy, but he knew better than to show any hint of disapproval or shock. Instead, he forced a neutral expression, knowing full well the kind of ruthless measures often employed in war, especially under a lord like Saralor.


    He glanced over at Ryffka, who was doing a good job of hiding behind him, and then turned his attention back to Raf, nodding slowly as if understanding the gravity of their circumstances. "Did they... did the otherworlders attack this village?" Talarion asked, gesturing with a subtle nod of his head towards the burning wrecks and the distant, yet still audible, screams of agony and despair.


    Raf let out a dark chuckle, the sound grating and devoid of any real humor. "Nah, this is all Lord Saralor''s doing. Gotta deny the enemy any respite, you know? Torch the villages, kill the peasants. Make sure there''s nothing left for those otherworldly bastards to use against us. And, well..." Raf''s smile turned into a knowing smirk, "a bit of fun while we''re at it, right? Soiled peasant girls go for a pretty bit of copper, hell your pretty Stymph goes for several silver if yer sellin¡¯. Pretty sure a few lads are into the girly boy types."


    The callousness of the comment made Talarion''s stomach turn, but he masked his disgust with a tight-lipped nod. He''d heard similar justifications before, brutal strategies aimed at crippling the enemy by any means necessary, but the reality of it all was always a harsh pill to swallow. Still, he knew arguing or showing any sign of weakness or dissent wasn''t an option, not here, not now.


    "Nah, I still need him to find my way around." Talarion replied, his voice low and steady. "But I get it, It''s a cruel world out there and the Auxiliaries don''t pay much. Gotta make coin somehow."


    A hearty chuckle left Raf¡¯s mouth and nods. ¡°I thought you only chase after the curvy ones! Didn¡¯t take ya to plow tiny half breeds!¡± He looked Ryffka up and down and nodded. ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna blame you, though.¡±


    As Raf continued to demean and harass Ryffka, the subject of the discussion felt a surge of indignation. As he remained hidden behind Talarion, the Stymph¡¯s feathers bristled with a mixture of fear and anger at the offense. However, his survival instincts and better judgment forced him to swallow his pride and stay silent.


    However, their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of more hooves thudding against the ground. Talarion, Ryffka, and Raf all turned to see another group of riders approaching. Leading them was a figure who exuded both authority and arrogance. The man sat upright and held his head high in an insufferably prideful way as he strode for.


    ¡°Ahh¡­ Commander Elarion,¡± Raf said with an exhausted sigh. ¡°Try not to say nothin¡¯ stupid. Bastards the 7th son of a damned Baronet, but acts as if he¡¯s the 1st son of a Duke.¡± He said as the tall, upright Sun Elf known rode towards them with an air of self-importance.


    As the commander drew closer, Raf straightened up, his demeanor changing from casual to a more respectful stance. ¡°Commander,¡± Raf lowered his head in deference. ¡°I¡¯d like you to meet Talarion and his¡­ guide.¡± He quickly introduced Talarion and Ryffka to the commander. ¡°The two are survivors of the fort attack and¡­¡± the horseman recounted the story, conveniently omitting the part about Talarion''s less than reputable nature.


    Commander Elarion regarded Talarion with a cold, disdainful look, his lip curling slightly in disgust. "Survivors? Why did you not fall with the rest of your unit, like a proper Imperial?" he accused, his voice dripping with contempt. "Cowardice is a stain upon the Empire, and you, along with that disgusting harpy hiding behind you, are no exception."


    Elarion''s words were like daggers, and Talarion felt the weight of his gaze and judgment. "Sir, we fought valiantly, but the situation was hopeless, we were tasked to bring what information we cou-¡± Talarion tried to get out, but the Commander scoffed and cut him off.


    ¡°Hah! Hopeless? Intelligence?¡± The Commander sneered, with his hand gripping the lance in his hand. ¡°You sound more like deserters! A true Imperial soldier would have died with his comrades. You should be lashed, if not hung, for your cowardice!¡±


    Talarion¡¯s face twitched as he moved his body in a more defensive posture. ¡°C-Commander! With all due respect, we have invaluable information about the otherworlders and we witnessed their capabilities first hand! Our superiors tasked us with¡­" As Talarion desperately tried to make his.Ryffka tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.


    The Stymph¡¯s every instinct screamed at him to flee from this perilous situation and his stress levels were going through the roof. Ryffka then momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm his frayed nerves and slow his heart to regulate the heat, but as he focused, a strange buzzing noise caught his attention.


    It was barely perceptible against the backdrop of the surrounding chaos¡­ but it was there. Monotonous and¡­ alien.


    Ryffka''s eyes snapped open, and his sharp vision focused on the small black dot in the sky.


    A horrible foreboding feeling started to swell with the Stymphs chest just like back in the fort as he stared at the strange and unsettling object as it just¡­ floated there.


    Unmoving and unnatural.


    The thing was mostly a reticular shape with four arms with four¡­ things spinning impossibly fast. As if the sight alone wasn¡¯t unnerving enough, Ryffka felt as if the object was observing them, studying them. Just like how a hawk watched its prey to calculate the best approach.


    However, Just as Ryffka opened his mouth to say something, his head snapped to another object that he just so happened to catch at the corner of his eye. There was another black object, but this one was different ¨C longer, faster, and it was coming directly at them.


    Without a second thought, Ryffka''s survival instincts kicked in. He reached out, grabbing Talarion''s hand with a vice-like grip and yanked him hard.


    "RUN!"

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 43

    ¡°I knew it!! Traitors!!¡± Commander Elarion bellowed, snapping his head towards Raf and pointed at the two running deserters with his lance. ¡°Bring those cowards to heel! They shall rue the day they turned their back on the empire!¡±


    Caught off guard by the situation, Raf sat there on his horse, momentarily stunned as he watched Ryffka and Talarion sprint away. His head snapped back and forth between his commander''s enraged shouts and the fleeing figures of what he had thought were at worst stragglers.


    With a frustrated click of his tongue, the gruff skirmisher finally made his decision after a few scant seconds of hesitation. He knew the consequences of disobeying an order, especially one barked by someone as frivolous and flippant as Commander Elarion. Jabbing his heels into his mount, he spurred the horse forward, rallying his men with a sharp command. "After them! Don''t let them get away!" he shouted, as he jolted forward.


    Five of the fifteen horsemen broke off from the main group to give chase. The pounding of hooves resounded as the horses galloped after Ryffka and Talarion and quickly closed the distance. The riders themselves seemed to be as amused as they were bewildered by the fact these two even entertained the thought to run, let alone actually make a break for it.


    Fueled by adrenaline and confusion, Talarion glanced over his shoulder and stared at the charging cavalry with a mix of fear and disbelief. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what in the hell had just happened. What prompted Ryffka to suddenly take off and drag him along? Did the commander spook him? Did he just panic?


    Talarion¡¯s mind raced in an attempt to make any kind of semblance of sense of what just happened, but every thought running through his mind was abruptly cut short by an ear splitting blast.


    A bone rattling shockwave hit Talarion and Ryffka, causing them both to stumble off their feet and eat the dirt. The commander and a few other men who had been standing around him were the target of the blast and all of them, including the horses, crumpled to the ground.


    Chaotic and terrible screams filled the air as a voice cried out in agony and utter disbelief, "The commander''s dead! Gods preserve us! What in the infinite hells was that!?"


    More riders started convening on the epicenter of the explosion, trying to make sense of what just happened, but they were only greeted with both panic horses and men. All they knew was that an explosion had claimed the lives of 3 and left 4 others sprawled on the ground, trying to manage their wounds. Their leader''s body was strewn haphazardly as he and his mounts stared lifelessly at the sky


    ¡°Calm yourselves! Form up!" Raf shouted, 20 or so meters away as he struggled to regain control of his startled steed.


    The remaining riders, though shaken, seemed to respond to Raf''s command, albeit with visible hesitation. They shuffled around, in an attempt to control their own steeds as they did their best to follow orders while their eyes darted around in search of any further threats.


    ¡°I said form up! Get into ranks!¡± Raf bellowed as he looked down towards Talarion and eyed him with suspicion. ¡°Tal! What the fuck was that!?¡±


    Still sprawled on the ground from their fall, Talarion and Ryffka exchanged a look of shared dread before they turned their eyes to the Horseman. This was all too familiar, a haunting echo of the terrifying onslaught they had experienced at their fort. The only thing missing was the dark silhouettes of those nightmarish flying beasts and the oddly garbed warriors descending from them.


    Talarion hastily stood up as he pushed his kettle helm firmly on his head. The man¡¯s heart pounded heavily against his chest as he recalled the terrifying events that had transpired at their fort. "It''s the same as at the fort, the explosions! They were always followed by¡ª" Talarion''s words faltered as something in the distance caught his eye.


    His head snapped to the figure emerging from the tall grass, holding onto a large, strange object. It bore a resemblance to a crossbow, but everything about it was off, alien, and ominous. But it was the uniform that truly struck a chord of fear and recognition in Talarion. It was the same as the ones worn by the strange attackers at the fort, the otherworldly invaders who brought destruction and death from the sky.


    All of a sudden, the air was torn apart by a long staccato of deafening cracks, nearly as loud as the explosion that had just occurred. The tip of the figure''s strange weapon spat fire like a dragon as he swept the thing across the field.


    Swaths of men and horses were cut down as more otherworldly monsters appeared, their strange weapons spewing death in every direction. The once orderly field was now a nightmarish landscape, with the once proud and disciplined riders thrown into disarray and terror.


    While his instincts were screaming at him to seek cover, Talarion looked to Raf and the other horsemen gawking at the scene. "Get down!" he bellowed, spotting the otherworlder with the larger weapon turning his deadly gaze towards them. The air around them seemed to tremble as the deafening long string of cracks erupted in their direction.


    Without hesitation, Talarion threw himself to the ground, pressing his body into the dirt as flat as he could as the world around him vibrated from the otherworldly barrage. A Cacophony of hisses and snaps were punctuated by the yelps and cries of men and the panicked neighing of horses resounded in every direction.


    As heavy thuds of the horsemen and their steeds falling echoed around him, Talarion clenched his teeth and shut his eyes tight as he gripped his kettle helmet tightly. The man did his best to curl himself as small as he could in an attempt to use his pitiful helmet as a shield to protect him from the horror unfolding around him. But as quickly as it came, it left, with a slew of pained curses and the frantic neighing taking its place.


    The crackles of strange weapons and screaming still dominated the field, but it was no longer directed solely at them. Cautiously opening his eyes, Talarion realized that the immediate danger had passed, but the battle raged from all across the field. Mustering his courage, he began to crawl through the grass, moving toward the sounds of struggle and pain.


    As he approached the source, the image that met them was one of pure carnage. Raf lay trapped beneath his thrashing horse, his armor punctured in several places, each wound oozing blood. His face was a mask of pain, yet his eyes burned with a fierce determination to survive. He struggled, pushing and wriggling in an attempt to free himself from the weight of his dying mount.


    Talarion and Ryffka exchanged a glance, knowing they needed to act fast if they were to help Raf in any way. Without a word, they moved to his side, each taking a hold of the horse in an attempt to lift it off him. The task was Herculean, the horse''s spasms of agony making it difficult to get a good grip.


    "Raf!" Talarion called out, his voice laced with urgency. "Hold on, I¡¯m going to get you out!"


    Raf''s labored breathing was the only response they got as he continued to push against the ground in fruitless attempts to slide himself out from underneath the animal as it thrashed. And as Talarion came up to him and started yanking, the two managed to make some progression. But it wasn¡¯t until Ryfka approached that they actually started making some headway. The Stymph quickly surveyed the situation and wracked mind racing for a solution beyond brute force. With a deep breath, he began to chant in a melodic yet powerful language that seemed to resonate with the air itself.


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    "Kyreetha sarintha lykeon!" Ryffka''s voice reached a crescendo, and as he uttered the final syllable, he extended his arms towards the horse, palms facing outward.


    A visible shockwave of force erupted from Ryffka, hitting the horse with a concussive push. The animal, caught off guard by the sudden burst, was lifted slightly and pushed away, freeing Raf from its oppressive weight.


    "By the gods..." Raf gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper. "What... just happened?" He looks down and starts undoing the straps of his armor with shaking hands.


    Panic started to take hold of the gruff warrior as he pulled his armor off and saw a flood of his own blood gushing from his torso. The punctures in his chest and stomach were far more severe than he could have ever imagined. No bolt or arrow was capable of creating such wounds.


    The man¡¯s hands immediately went to cover the holes in a pathetic attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. ¡°Oh gods¡­! Oh gods¡­!¡± Raf''s rugged face contorted in pain and horror as he frantically pressed his hands against his abdomen, but no matter how badly he wanted the bleeding to stop, it just gushed through his fingers.


    As Raf¡¯s breathing became erratic from the blood filling his lungs, Talarion and Ryffka watched in shock and despair, knowing that even with a healer the horseman was most likely dead. The man was basically drowning and even if a healer got to him, there wasn¡¯t a spell powerful enough to mend wounds that looked like they¡¯d been hit by a damned Needle Demon.


    Raf''s eyes were wide with terror as he looked up at them, trying to shout over the cacophony of strange weapons. ¡°Tal¡­! Tal, you gotta help me," he pleaded through gurgled coughs. ¡°Tal! I can¡¯t die here!¡±


    Talarion sat there, frozen in horror, as the deafening cracks of the otherworldly weapons echoed in almost every direction. In a panicked haste, he crawled forward, his hands trembling as he tore open Raf''s tunic, flinching away at the sheer volume of blood that gushed forth. The small piece of cloth had been acting as a dam and now released a flood, showing the full extent of Raf''s wounds.


    The ghastly punctures were so deep and numerous that they left Talarion feeling helpless and lost. He glanced back at Ryffka, whose expression mirrored his own horror and confusion as he sat there with his feathers pressed low against his head. With no knowledge or means to stem to help them man, let alone stop the bleeding, they could do nothing but sit there and gawk.


    ¡°Fuck¡­ fu¡­.¡± Raf¡¯s eyes went wide open as he attempted to gasp for air, but only gurgled. ¡°Tal¡­ Tal, I can¡¯t breathe¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    Slick with Raf''s blood, Talarion¡¯s hand shook as he stared at the horror of the situation. Raf''s pleas for help and gasping breaths filled with gurgles of blood seemed to have had paralyzed him in that very moment. The once rough and assertive man was reduced to a trembling, mewling, mess.


    But suddenly, the rustling of grass broke through his morbid trance. Talarion, fueled by fear, whipped out his falchion, and pointed it towards the source of the moment, praying to whatever god that would listen that it wasn¡¯t one of those horrible beings.


    ¡°Sergeant!¡± A call screamed out as a limping figure burst through the grass.


    Talarion and Ryffka both, couldn¡¯t help but heave what was more like a gasp of relief as another skirmisher, clutching onto a mage''s bladestaff and and his own wounds. But as his eyes landed on the scene before him, his shouts died in his throat.


    ¡°S¡­Ser¡­¡± The man stammered, lowering his blade staff as he took in the gruesome scene. ¡°Sergeant¡­?¡±


    No longer capable of forming words, Raf could do nothing but flail and gurgle as his lifeblood continued to pool beneath him and in his lungs. The man¡¯s eyes went wild with panic and pain struggles became weaker, more sporadic as he grasped at his wounds.


    It wasn¡¯t long until Raf''s movements stilled, his eyes fixing on some unseen point. Everyone remained still, staring at the horror they just witnessed until in a fit of rage, the Mage stood up grasping onto his staff, and pointed it in the direction of the chatter of otherworldly weapons.


    In a desperate bid to retaliate, the mage stood up to his full height and began to chant. "Esha vintil, pyri astu!" His words filled with a strange power and seemed to pull at the very fabric of reality around him and a small orb of fire then began to form in air with each uttered syllable.


    The mage¡¯s eyes swung to his target, several of those demons sprinting across the field while another contingent covered their maneuver with those infernal weapons barking incessantly towards his compatriots.


    As the mage focused on his incantation, his gaze fixed on the distant figures bolting through the grass. However, he struggled to get a proper fix on these monsters in the form of men. Their uniforms were unlike any he had seen before, their forms broken up by the strange foliage patterned uniforms that made them blend seamlessly with their surroundings, making their silhouettes only intermittently visible. Coupled with the way they moved through and how they kept their head down, made it nearly impossible for the mage to target with a precise fireball.


    Meanwhile, the target that the mage had focused on popped back up with his horrible weapon roaring back to life. A continuous thunderous rattle tore through the air as the fearsome weapon turned towards a contingent of auxiliary reinforcements that were rushing to the aid of their beleaguered allies.


    However, the reinforcements were caught in the open and were unprepared for the onslaught that was to come. Bunched together, tightly in a formation, large swathes of the reinforcements were mercilessly cut down. Each burst of their weapons spelled the death of countless men, leaving the once orderly ranks in disarray and panic.


    A repeated series of cracks rang out as Talarion and Ryffka watched as the mages head snapped back and watched as the man crumpled to the ground as if he were a puppet with his strings cut.


    Crawling over to the man, Talarion looked down and nearly puked at what was left of the newest victims of the otherworlder¡¯s face. And what was worse, the poor man was still alive, garbbling something unintelligible as his hands moved to where his jaw was supposed to be.


    ¡°We need to get the fuck out of here!¡± Talarion looked over his shoulder, back at Ryffka as he scrambled away. ¡°We need to get the fuck out of here right fucking now!¡±


    Talarion''s command was all Ryffka needed. In a frenzied state of panic and survival, the Stymph didn''t hesitate. He spun around up and began to crawl away from the horrifying scene, keeping his body as low to the ground as possible. But as he moved, his eyes caught sight of the mage''s bladestaff a few meters away, discarded like an unwanted item. Without a second thought, Ryffka grabbed it, remembering he had lost his own during his getaway in that fort attack


    But just before he had made it out of eyeshot, Talarion¡¯s voice rang out once again. ¡°Wait!¡± The Sun Elf yelled after seeing his companion loot the bladestaff.


    In a moment of quick thinking, Talarion had spotted something else of value. He quickly rose to his feet and ran towards the fallen horse, his body hunched to make himself a smaller target. And after reaching the beast¡¯s corpse, Talarion''s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope as he saw the massive waterskin still attached to the creature''s side. With a few quick slices of his dagger, he cut it free.


    And none too soon, because just as he pulled it free, the ground around him and the mangled mage was peppered with several weighty thunks.


    Deciding he wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever in the hells that was, Talarion decided that what he managed to grab was enough and basically sprinted after Ryffka, ducking and weaving through the grass.


    And it seemed that Talarion''s instincts had never been sharper; his decision to just grab what they needed most was validated mere seconds later. As he and Ryffka made their hasty escape, a multitude of bone-rattling and deafening blasts erupted behind them. Talarion held his breath as he glanced behind him and saw a sight that sent a chill down his spine.


    "Go! Keep moving!" Talarion shouted out to Ryffka when he saw the Stymphs head turn to look.


    They didn¡¯t have time to gawk. Their only chance to get out of this hell was to put as much distance between themselves and these demons as possible. Because he was more than certain that they''d be coming to check for any that still breathed sooner or later.


    Ryffka didn''t need to be told twice. He clutched the blade staff tightly and ran like the very hells were chasing him. Because, as far as he was concerned, they were, and they took the guise of men with green faces.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 44

    Coleman and his Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) team moved like specters through the unusual grass field, creeping closer to the village in the distance.


    As the team leader looked around, his gaze couldn¡¯t help but linger on the curious blend of foliage around him. It was neither entirely wheat nor typical grass and stood almost chest-high while swaying gently with the breeze. The heads of each large blade were slightly broader than the wheat fields of middle America with an odd mix of golden and green, but they sure did catch the sunlight in a way that gave the field a shimmering, almost ethereal quality.


    Turning his attention back to his mission, Coleman continued to stalk forward with his team, their forms barely disturbing the grass as they advanced. They had silently observed the tragic scene unfolding in the village. The mounted scouts'' brutality inflicted upon the villagers had not gone unnoticed. These men were not simply soldiers performing their duty; no, these were marauding animals that needed to be put down.


    The team had initially debated the best approach to engage these mounted scouts. Their scattered patrol pattern was a problem and could lead them to be decisively engaged. It was a situation where the assaulting element could be flanked and overrun. However, as fate would have it, an opportunity presented itself when the scattered scouts converged on two individuals who had unwittingly wandered toward the doomed village.


    Now, the once dispersed and difficult-to-target screen of enemy scouts was clumped together, focused on their prey, unaware of the danger that lurked within the grass. It was the moment the team had been waiting for, and when everyone was in position, a singular word left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he pressed down his push-to-talk;


    ¡°Execute.¡±


    Suddenly, just above the largest cluster of horse riders, a switchblade drone came in screaming and detonated above their head. The explosion showered everyone in the immediate area in shrapnel that tore through metal and flesh just before a concussive blast that threw both the men and horses alike to the ground.


    A brief and stunned quiet filled the air before the cries of the injured and the panicked neighing of horses echoed throughout the field.


    Coleman watched as more riders rushed to the scene of the blast to lend any aid they could, but little did they know this was a fatal mistake. And this was the moment the ODA team had been waiting for¡ªa singular moment to capitalize on the confusion and disarray.


    Without being prompted, Lister suddenly rose from his position in the grass, pointed his MK-48 belt-fed machine gun at the group, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon went cyclical; its relentless chatter ripped through the air as the man swept across the field, mowing down everyone and everything foolish enough to remain standing.


    At the same time, Coleman, Elijah, and Bennett were quick to follow Lister''s lead. They rose from their cover and began sprinting towards a better vantage point. As they moved under the cover of Lister''s deadly barrage, their own suppressed weapons snapped up and barked to life as they engaged targets of opportunities. The muted thumps of their shots dropped individual enemy soldiers alongside Lister''s machine gun''s heavier, more rhythmic bursts.


    But suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Coleman watched as Elijah suddenly stopped as a small and feminine voice spoke up. ¡°Kill that one!¡± Yana grabbed Elijah¡¯s short beard and yanked on it before pointing towards a sole-standing figure in the middle of a field.


    The man was conjuring a small but growing ball of fire just above his head, and without hesitation, Elijah raised his rifle and squeezed off several rounds in the direction of the mage. Several bullets found their mark as the mage¡¯s body jerked and his head snapped back violently. However, just before the mage collapsed back into the field, he managed to get the spell off.


    In a split second, Elijah managed to duck down and evade the projectile, but he couldn¡¯t say the same for his ¡®goddess.¡¯ Yana had shifted her attention to Lister and watched with glee as the man opened fire once more, shredding an entire formation of foot soldiers rushing to aid their fallen comrades.


    And as the fireball closed in, Yana finally turned, and her eyes widened. In an almost whimsical manner, the fairy winked out of existence just as the fireball reached her and allowed it to detonate harmlessly away from them, engulfing a swath of the field in flames.


    As the intense heat from the fireball sang the air and licked at his skin, Elijah quickly rose to his knees as a slew of profanities left his lips. The curses seemed to compliment the staccato of intense gunfire as the man quickly reached up to his chin, fumbling with the strap of his helmet. With an audible click of the buckle, the helmet subsequently sprang off, revealing a flailing fairy underneath, her tiny form creating a chaotic whirlwind in his hair.


    ¡°Goddamnit, Yana!¡± Elijah shouted in frustration as he watched her flutter off, seemingly equally agitated by the tight confines.


    ¡°Bah! Stinky!¡± Yana spat as she glowered down at Elijah. ¡°Wash your hair, brute!¡±


    For a fraction of a second, Elijah could only stare at the tiny being in irritation as he quickly snapped his helmet back onto his head. With everything secured in place, Elijah dug into his pocket and pulled out a fragmentation grenade. "Frag the fuck!" he angrily yelled as he looked at Bennett and pulled the pin from his grenade.


    While Elijah and Bennett were busy tossing their grenades, Coleman continued to pick off individual footmen and riders, trying to regroup methodically. His weapon consistently barked out death with every pull of the trigger.


    After a few seconds, the dual explosions from Elijah and Bennett''s grenades reverberated across the plains as the supporting element of the ODA team continued to suppress the main bulk of the enemy. With the mage Neutralized, the assaulters renewed their push towards a small hill that provided a decent view of the village and its surrounding lands.


    Within the village proper, the occupying forces realized their screen had failed to repel whatever attack was occurring and started to prepare their response. Once Elijah, Bennett, and Coleman reached the hill''s zenith, they watched a mass of over a hundred men hastily rush out armed with a colorful variety of weapons and shields.


    Organizing the rabble into a real fighting force, several individuals of what looked like their leaders or officers ran up and down, barking at the men to form cohesive blocks.


    Bennett was the last to get to the top when he took a knee and started firing his weapon at figures in the field. He glanced over his shoulder towards the village and couldn¡¯t help but scoff. ¡°Wow, Eli. It¡¯s like one of those shitty animes you watch.¡± The engineer said before he returned to picking off survivors of their ambush.


    ¡°I still haven¡¯t seen a catgirl yet,¡± Elijah responded as he peered through his optic.


    As the two men started their banter once more Coleman let out a huff of amusement before gazing up at the RQ-28a quadcopter drone hovering high in the sky. Pressing down on his push-to-talk button, he communicated with their fire support team, "Baron 3, this is Baron 1, you got me?" He said cooly as sporadic rifles and machine gun fire echoed in the background.


    A brief moment of static crackled through the comm before Baron 3''s voice came through, strong and clear, "Roger that, we got eyes on you and the mass of infantry."


    Coleman nodded to himself in satisfaction befpre narrowing his eyes at the enemy formation. "Don''t open up on them yet," he instructed firmly. "We''re gonna lure


    em in. Wait for my mark."


    An affirmation to the order came over the radio just as Coleman switched frequencies. ¡°Lister, get up here. Schwarz, Jacobs, keep playing whack-a-mole and keep up the overwatch.¡±


    Lister, the team''s Weapons Sergeant, weaved through the tall grass like a predator. As he approached the team, he brought his hand down onto Coleman''s shoulder, signaling his arrival without a word before taking a knee.


    Meanwhile, Coleman continued to observe the enemy formation with a keen eye. Among the infantry blocks, one particular group on the flank caught his attention. Unlike the disciplined formations commanded by stern officers, this block on the edge was noticeably less organized. The soldiers within this group appeared lax, their formation loose and uneven, and even the officer in charge of this block seemed less focused.


    "There," Coleman suddenly spoke up with a low but firm voice. "Lay into those fucks. Make ''em tighten up their formation."


    A devilish smile spread across Lister¡¯s face as he nodded. He quickly approached a nearby rock formation, deployed the bipod on his MK-48, and prepared the belt-fed machine gun for the barrage he would soon unleash.


    And with a squeeze of the trigger¡­ the plains erupted into a cacophony of violence as Lister unleashed a torrent of lead upon his unsuspecting victims. The rapid bursts, barked out as a hail of deadly projectiles arced across the sky and into the ranks of the lack-lustered soldiers.


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    ¡°Wow, get fucked.¡± Elijah said in awe as he watched men who weren''t quick enough to hide behind the glowing shields or were too slow to react topple over.


    It wasn¡¯t long before gaps in the main body of the formation started to close up. Officers barked orders as they tried to regain control over the situation, and any imperfections their soldiers had were quickly rectified as they watched their flank be decimated.


    The horrible sound of Lister''s machine gun, coupled with hisses and snaps of supersonic bullets, sent knots of fear into the guts of many, especially after seeing their beleaguered flank die like flies. But despite the terror and confusion, the disciplined core marched forward even in the face of such strange and alien firepower.


    ¡°Nice, that¡¯s what you like to see!¡± Coleman shouted before fiddling with his radio and pressing down on his push to talk. ¡°Baron 4, this Baron 1, execute!¡± He said before looking up at the drone. ¡°Baron 3, Baron 1, four rounds HE, each gun. Target is the main body; adjust fire as needed, over."


    "Baron 1, this is Baron 3. Confirming, four rounds HE, each gun." the response returned, acknowledging that they were gauging accuracy. ¡°Shot, over.¡±


    Sinister smiles spread across every Special Forces Team member''s face as the machine gun continued to chop away at the enemy¡¯s flank. ¡°Shot, out.¡± Coleman replied.


    Within moments, the sound of the 40mm high explosive grenades whistled over the heads, and the team watched as the high explosive rounds slammed 50 meters behind the enemy formation. The rustic, medieval-like soldiers snapped their heads around as the rounds struck right behind them.


    As a look that said he was slightly impressed crossed Coleman''s face, he looked back at his team and noted they shared the same expression. "Damn, that was fucking close for a first try," The team leader said aloud as he glanced up at the drones, knowing the team with the GMVs would be course-correcting on the fly.


    And the moment those thoughts crossed his mind, the radio crackled back to life, "Baron 1, this is Baron 3. Correcting, sending four rounds HE. Shot, over."


    Coleman''s gaze fixed back on the enemy formation and waited patiently. "Shot, out," he responded.


    The air filled with anticipation as the seconds ticked by. Then, as if on cue, the next barrage of 40mm grenades whistled as they arced overhead, this time landing 10-20 meters in front of the enemy formation, splashing their shields and legs with shrapnel.


    "Baron 3, Baron 1. Hold that! Wait ten seconds and send it!" Coleman yelled excitedly into the radio. He knew it would take a few moments for this mass of troops to regain their bearing before walking face-first into catastrophe.


    When the team leader let go of his radio, he waited and watched with bated breath as he started a countdown. "Ten... nine... eight..." The words silently left his mouth just as the enemy soldiers, in their confusion, continued to move forward, unknowingly marching into the very heart of danger.


    They trampled over the minor pot marks in the earth where the previous rounds had exploded, their tight and organized formation acting as an imposing bulwark.


    "Four... three... two..."


    As Coleman hit one, his radio crackled to life once again. "Baron 3, going full cyclic."


    It only took a few more seconds before the air was filled with the unrelenting whistle of descending munitions. The sky seemed to rain down an endless barrage of 40mm grenades, each one a promising death.


    The field transformed into a scene straight out of a war movie. Explosions rocked the formation of soldiers as grenade after grenade found its mark, engulfing the enemy in a maelstrom of fire and shrapnel. The concussive blasts echoed across the plains, sending shockwaves that could be felt even from the ODA team¡¯s position.


    Both Elijah and Bennett narrowed their eyes and puckered their lips into and oooh expression as they nodded. Never in their careers had they ever dreamed of witnessing something so¡­ horrifically amazing.


    ¡°WOOAAHHHH!!.¡± Yana screamed, clutching at the mesh that lined the top of Elijah¡¯s Helmet. ¡°Beautiful! Wonderful! Incredible¨C¡±


    But just before she finished her praises, another sound joined the din of battle - the iconic, deep-throated chops of an M2 Browning .50 cal machine gun.


    Everyone¡¯s head turned sharply towards the source of this new, dominating presence. Thundering through the field was a Ground Mobility Vehicle (GMV) with its heavy machine gun mounted on top, laying waste to the enemy''s flank with unrelenting ferocity.


    The Browning''s rounds tore through shields and men alike as its rhythmic firing pattern contrasted with the explosive that showered down on top of the poor souls who only sought to flee the scene. As the vehicle came to a stop, its gunner expertly swept the .50 cal back and forth, cutting down anyone and everyone foolish enough to remain standing.


    Amid the carnage, Yana seemed to be overcome with joy and excitement. Her wings fluttered rapidly, causing a blur of iridescent light as she darted forward from the relative safety of Elijah''s helmet. With each maneuver of the GMV and burst of the .50 cal, her excitement grew until she reached the scene.


    "Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!" her tiny, high-pitched voice chanted out with absolute glee. Darting back and forth in the air, she pointed her dainty finger like a gun at each soul felled, mimicking ¡®her¡¯ soldiers'' actions with one eye squinted shut. ¡°BEST INVESTMENT EVER!¡±


    Then, with a sudden surge of enthusiasm, Yana zipped higher into the air, getting a better view of the slaughter unfolding below. "Get ''em! Get ''em, humans!" she yelled while energetically  waving her tiny hands as she continued making playful gun noises.


    ¡°The fuck is wrong with her?¡± Coleman suddenly spoke up as he and the team turned to Elijah.


    Elijah seemed to recoil from the accusatory looks as his brows furrowed, and a look of disbelief and annoyance covered his face. "What the fuck? Why the hell are you asking me for?" he retorted defensively, "Do you think I know what¡¯s going through that psycho¡¯s head?"


    Everyone on the hill shook their heads and turned their gazes back to the little fairy as she continued to zip around and point her fingers at the bodies with jubilant chants of "pew pew" filling the air. The team couldn''t help but feel a bizarre mix of amusement and bewilderment.


    ¡°You make it sound like you¡¯re not equally as weird and fucked up.¡± Coleman said, giving Elijah the side eye before turning away from the medic. Swapping to the team-wide frequency, the team leader then spoke into his headset, "Cease fire!" he barked authoritatively. "Let ¡®em run. No point in wasting any more ammo."


    It didn¡¯t take long for the guns to quiet and the explosions to cease. The battlefield fell eerily silent, save for the distant crackles of fire from the village and the occasional groan of the injured or dying. The enemy, those who survived, fled in every direction, scattering like rats from a sinking ship.


    Even though the life-reaping had ceased, Yana''s excitement hadn¡¯t dampened a single bit and was still buzzing around incessantly with energy. Meanwhile, the team had thought to convene and discuss the next steps after their little victory.


    They had initially launched the attack as a means of harassment, to probe the enemy''s response and inflict some damage. But now, as they watched the surviving enemies flee in disarray, they found themselves at a temporary impasse.


    It left them scratching their heads and wondering what they should do next.


    When the three other GMVs joined them, Coleman looked around at his team and saw their eyes reflected the same question. ¡°Alright, you freaks,¡± He finally said, signaling the men to close in. ¡°Any ideas or suggestions on how to proceed?¡±


    Kwon, the team sergeant, had a more pragmatic answer. "It sucks, but this really isn''t our problem," he said as his gaze lingered over to the smoldering village. "There''s probably a bunch of shitbags still loitering in the place, and we''d have to sniff them out. I say we move on, continue mapping their forces, and take out their eyes and ears."


    A few other team members nodded in agreement, the grim reality that the surviving villagers were effectively going to be on their own to deal with whatever horrors went down in there. Their primary goal was to gather intelligence, disrupt the enemy, and survive. Not get involved with the locals and play at being humanitarians.


    Lister, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "I don¡¯t like it, but I have to agree with Kwon," he said, "but I think we need to find a rock and hide under it for a while. We were loud and did a lot more damage than we initially thought.¡± He said, looking over to the killing fields where Yana continued to dart around doing¡­ whatever the hell she was doing. ¡°They''re going to be looking to respond, and we don''t want to be around when they do."


    His words resonated with the team. Albeit they had just struck what they assumed was a small raiding force, it was still a significant blow, and it would undoubtedly draw attention. The enemy would be looking for retribution, and they needed to stay one step ahead.


    Coleman glanced over at Elijah, which naturally caused the rest of the team to follow his gaze. Elijah seemed spaced out, leaning casually against one of the GMVs, lost in thought as he saw the fairy bolt down on the ground into some poor, unfortunate soul. When he finally noticed the collective stare, his face scrunched up in confusion and a hint of irritation.


    "What?" he blurted out, pushing off the vehicle and raising an eyebrow. "Why the hell is everyone looking at me?"


    The team''s gaze lingered, their expressions a mix of curiosity and expectation. Kwon, ever the one to bust Elijah¡¯s balls, responded with a slight smirk. "Well, we''d like to know the opinion of our resident manipulative sociopath with a literal fairy god attached to him," he drawled, his gaze pointedly flicking to where Yana was still zipping around.


    ¡°Oh hoh. Hilarious.¡± Elijah rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. ¡°You guys are fuckin¡¯ comedians now?" He shot back with an annoyed look. ¡°Go on, tell me another joke.¡±


    Kwon just threw his head over his shoulder, gesturing to the blonde-haired elf sitting in one of the vehicles, tilting her head curiously. Azeline was aware they were talking about her and wondered what these strange people wanted.


    Elijah brought a hand to his face and pushed at his eyes to suppress the forming headache. "Jesus Christ, you people are annoying," he muttered exhaustedly.


    "Answer the question, asshole," Coleman replied sharply, his patience wearing thin.


    A pained groan left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he closed his eyes and considered the situation.


    After a few moments of thought, the medic finally opened his mouth, "I think we should go and help the village," he said, leaning back against the GMV.


    Eyebrows raised, and murmurs of surprise rippled through the team. Taking the village was not just a bold move but one that would potentially expose them to greater risk. It was wise to say this was more stupid than altruistic, but everyone here knew Elijah was everything except altruistic. So, there was another angle at play.


    "Why?" Coleman asked, his expression serious as he weighed Elijah''s suggestion.


    ¡°They¡¯re attacking their own people, right?¡± Elijah responded as he stretched his back out. ¡°Some friendly villages and towns could make not only our jobs but every asshole out here¡¯s job a lot easier.¡±

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 45

    When the Special Forces Team entered the destroyed village, they couldn¡¯t say they were surprised at what they saw.


    The team kept their weapons up so they had full 360-degree cover, and the closer they got, the more apparent the devastation became. The attack on the village had been brutal and comprehensive, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins and the lingering smell of smoke and death in its wake.


    It was evident that a scorched earth policy was being employed by the attacking forces. Buildings were burned to the ground, stores of food and water deliberately destroyed, and livestock slaughtered or driven off. The goal was to demoralize and uproot the community completely and deny any potential resources to their enemies.


    As they moved further into the village, the horrors inflicted upon the villagers became painfully clear. The bodies of military-aged men lay scattered throughout, many of whom appeared to have been executed en masse. It was apparent that the occupying forces had dealt with any potential resistance quickly and without mercy.


    But the fate of the women was perhaps the most harrowing. Even the young had been subjected to unspeakable acts of violence and cruelty as everyone was left bound to several carts with the look of fear and hopelessness in their eyes.


    As they approached, the full extent of the tragedy was displayed in painful detail. Among the ruins, they finally came across piles of bodies belonging to both men and women.


    A good number of them carried signs of torture or depraved abuse as they lay in the dirt lifelessly. It was clear that the attackers had not only sought to destroy the village but also decided to have their own sick brand of fun.


    ¡°Fucking animals.¡± Kwon sneered as his eyes glanced over a truly horrific scene that involved young girls. ¡°Shoulda killed ¡®em all.¡±


    Lister couldn¡¯t agree more. The usually stoic and composed operator was visibly shaken. He wouldn¡¯t say he was immune to the horrors of war, but¡­ this wasn¡¯t something any soldier should or would ever do. To deliberately inflict such horridness upon the innocent struck a deep chord of anger and sorrow. "Christ..." he muttered a mix of rage and disbelief.


    ¡°Same shit, different world,¡± Elijah said almost indifferently as he and Bennett moved towards one thatch-roofed building that was still reasonably intact.


    A few looks glanced the medic¡¯s way. They all knew of his deployments in the Middle East and his part in eradicating ISIS. The militant group had shown him the darkest aspects of human cruelty, especially when he took part in missions that took him deep into the heart of the Islamic State.


    In Syria and Iraq, Elijah would have encountered scenes of unimaginable horror. ISIS was notorious for its ruthlessness, which included public executions, torture, and the enslavement of women and children. Slave markets were a grim reality of ISIS-controlled areas, where women and girls, primarily from the Yazidi community, were bought and sold like cattle.


    As Elijah and Bennett approached the entryway to the building, a tense silence enveloped them. But before he made his entry, Elijah took a moment to glance back at his team. "We¡¯re in the wild lands now, so you guys better start getting used to this kinda stuff," he said stoically before turning his attention to the door.


    Bennett positioned himself on the opposite side of the door with his weapon trained on it as Elijah readied his own weapon. While carefully managing the angle and space he exposed himself to, Elijah pushed the door open and began to cautiously and systematically clear the room.


    To gain control of the room, Elijah moved his weapon in a smooth, sweeping motion. Bit by bit, he covered every potential hiding spot and corner of the doorway without fully exposing his body to reduce the risk and thwart anyone waiting to ambush him. As he shifted his position, Bennett mirrored his movements on the other side, from the corner of his eye. Both operators covered opposing angles the other couldn''t, ensuring a thorough and coordinated sweep of the area.


    As Bennett shifted his weight to get a better view into the interior, a sudden rustle of movement caught his attention. There he saw a brief glimpse of the same armor and colors that belonged to the soldiers they had decimated just outside of the village in the fields. Reacting instinctively, he squeezed the trigger, sending a few rounds into the room. The sharp retorts of gunfire were immediately followed by a surprised yelp and the sound of a body crashing into something inside.


    ¡°Yep, we got dickheads lingering around,¡± Bennett confirmed the presence of enemy forces hiding within the village.


    The team snapped to attention as their focus narrowed and their weapons trained on different sectors. Everyone quickly mobilized in groups of two to start clearing the remaining structures of the village systematically, and luckily, there wasn¡¯t much to clear. The village was small and comfortable but would still be a meticulous and time-consuming task to clear every half-standing structure and pile of rubble.


    As the team broke off, Elijah peered into the darkness of his targeted building and saw the silhouettes of a handful of people lying on the floor. "Bang it," he suddenly ordered in a low and commanding tone.


    Bennett reached into the pouch on his chest rig, pulled out a small, metallic object, and prepped for entry. He swiftly pulled the pin, and in a practiced move, he lobbed a flashbang through the doorway.


    A disorienting flash and a deafening blast erupted inside the room just a few moments later, causing a few yelps of confusion from within. And the moment the explosion rocked everyone inside, the two operators stormed in.


    Bennett veered left and Elijah right, each moving to establish control over the large room. They entered swiftly and efficiently, their movements honed by countless hours of training and real-world experience. The room was quickly sliced into sectors of fire by the two operators, and almost immediately, they caught sight of several armored figures.


    They were disoriented and stumbling, seemingly caught entirely off guard by the flashbang''s disorienting effects and the sudden intrusion. The armored men attempted to recover and let loose a spell or charge with whatever weapon they had, but it was too late. They were hopelessly outmatched and unprepared for the speed and violence of action executed by the Special Forces soldiers.


    An entire volley of suppressed gunfire barked out sharply in the confined space as each of the operators riddled the armored figures with bullets. Elijah''s weapon quickly put down one individual near the entrance, the muffled shots hitting the armored figure multiple times in the head and causing him to drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Without hesitation, Elijah¡¯s gaze and weapon snapped to another armored figure deeper within the room.


    He unleashed a fusillade of bullets.


    Round after round slammed into the target, causing them to scream and flinch away before falling to the floor. Still alive and full of adrenaline, the armored man tried to escape and scrambled away desperately. However, Elijah was relentless; he kept firing, perforating the man as he tried to stand, but he ultimately succumbed to the barrage and landed face-first on the floor.


    At the same time, another series of suppressed barks echoed on the other side of the room as Bennett neutralized someone else. With the immediate threats eliminated, the two operators swiftly transitioned to a comprehensive search of the room.


    Unimaginably bright lights shone from their rifles as they methodically worked their way through the peasant house. The interior was as expected of a rural homestead¡ªminimal and functional.


    Elijah approached an aged wooden cabinet, its doors hanging slightly ajar. He flung the doors open with a firm hand and immediately stepped back, readying his rifle just in case someone was inside. But the cabinet turned out to be bare save for a few articles of clothes, a bow, and a few poorly made arrows leaning against the back of the cabinet, and his gaze lingered there; something about the depth didn''t seem quite right. The back panel looked shallower than it rightfully should have been.


    As he contemplated investigating further, the distant sounds of weapon fire elsewhere in the village reached his ears. It seemed there were a lot more of these rats lingering about than expected.


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    "Oh damn," Bennett''s voice suddenly cut through his focus, carrying a hint of triumph. "Check this out!"


    Turning around, Elijah saw that Bennett was standing over the upturned remains of a makeshift mattress that the engineer had overturned. Bennett had a small leather pouch in his hand that rattled with the unmistakable sound of metal coins when he tossed it up in the hair.


    A look of interest covered Elijah''s face as he arched his eyebrow. He started his approach, but the sound of laborious breathing caught his attention, dragging his eyes back to the figure he had shot. The armored man was barely clinging to life, each breath a wet and gurgling struggle against the inevitable.


    However, Elijah¡¯s gaze then turned to the middle of the room where he saw 3 other naked bodies. A woman and what looked like her daughters were lying face up, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, covered in blood.


    Scowling in disgust, Elijah promptly pointed his weapon at the head of the still breathing man and pulled the trigger. The armored figure violently stiffened as his muscles tensed one last time, before finally going limp.


    After a moment''s pause, Elijah shook off the grim atmosphere and stepped over the now lifeless figure. He then walked over and took the pouch from Bennett''s hand, feeling the weight of the coins.


    He shook the bag and heard the jingle coins jingle inside, then tossed it up and caught it with a deft hand. Elijah¡¯s eyes met Bennett¡¯s, the shared look acknowledging that he was actually impressed. "Not bad," Elijah commented with a nod of approval. "Not bad at all. I don¡¯t know anything about the local currency, but it must have been hell saving this much as a peasant, serf, or whatever these people are."


    As Bennet¡¯s fingers rummaged through the contents of the pouch, he only saw of a bunch of dirty copper coins and a scant few made of silver. But when he jostled the bag, something caught his eye¡ªa single brilliant gold coin that glowed faintly amidst the mundane. He carefully extracted it, holding it up for the two to get a closer look.


    "Huh, why''s it all glowy?" Elijah asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he leaned in for a better look. The coin, indeed, had an unusual luminescence that wasn¡¯t standard in any other kind of gold coin he had seen, at least not in his world.


    "I dunno," Bennett shrugged, turning the coin over in his fingers. "Maybe Yana can see if it''s magic or something. Where is she, anyway?"


    Elijah gestured vaguely over his shoulder, his attention still partly on the coin. "Outside, fucking around with our new elf and the dead," he said with a slight edge of exasperation. "Something, something, pain, suffering, and hatred in the air. You know, fairy stuff."


    Bennett did not, in fact, know.


    The engineer stared blankly at Elijah before shaking his head. ¡°Right.¡± He replied, furrowing his brow. It astounded him just how quickly Elijah was able not only to adapt but¡­ somehow understand that little demon. It was as if they were on the same frequency or something.


    The whole situation with Yana and her peculiar bond with Elijah was far beyond his understanding. It was clear that there was more to their dynamic than met the eye, but he wasn''t going to delve into it right now.


    "Anyways, let''s get the hell out of here. This place is depressing," Bennett said, spinning around to leave.


    However, Elijah grabbed him by the shoulder. "Hold on," he interjected, shifting his focus to the cabinet he had been inspecting earlier. "Help me check this cabinet real quick. Something''s up with it."


    Bennett raised an eyebrow but followed Elijah''s lead. ¡°Ya sure, why not.¡± He said as they approached the cabinet while shouldering his weapon and shining his light into it. ¡°Let¡¯s see what kind of surprise we get.¡±


    Elijah eyed the back of the cabinet intently, his suspicions growing. The space seemed large enough to hide a full-sized person, albeit uncomfortably. He began pulling out the items from the cabinet, creating a clearer view of the back panel.


    "Looks like there could be a space back there," Elijah muttered as he felt around, looking the interior up and down. "Big enough to hide someone, maybe."


    He glanced at Bennett, who was watching him curiously. "You ready?" Elijah asked, his hand tightening around his rifle.


    Bennett nodded as he pointed his rifle at the cabinet. "Yep."


    As soon as the words left Bennett¡¯s mouth. Elijah stepped back, and with a swift motion, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the back panel. The wood splintered and cracked under the force, revealing a hidden space behind it. A pained gasp erupted from the concealed area as a figure flailed and tumbled out onto the floor.


    Elijah instinctively hopped back before shouldering his rifle and aiming it at the figure. Bennett also had his weapon trained on the sudden emergence, but they held their fire when they realized it was a young girl.


    The girl was visibly terrified, clutching her stomach as she tried to crawl away from them, holding her hand in front of her face to block out the blinding light. Her eyes squinted in pain, and her breaths came in short, panicked gasps as she felt fear consume her. She looked no more than a teenager, and her appearance suggested she had been hiding there for quite some time.


    "No, no, please no!" The young girl, screamed with a voice filled with fear and desperation. In her frantic attempt to stand up, she stumbled over something on the floor, crashing back down with a thud. ¡®


    As she scrambled to get up again she turned her head and saw the dead bodies in the center of the room. For a brief moment, she froze. A look of utter horror crossed her face when she recognized the lifeless, naked bodies.


    A heart-wrenching scream tore from the girl''s throat when she recognized the violated and brutalized forms of her family. Her bid to escape became even more desperate as she clawed away at the ground, only to find herself in the corner of the room. Realizing she had nowhere to go, with the two men approaching, she curled into a ball, covered her face with her arms and started weeping and pleading.


    The two Special Forces soldiers instinctively lowered their weapons, exchanging a brief, uncertain look, unsure how to proceed with this sudden, intense display of grief and terror.


    "Ya, no.¡± Bennett, a bit lost for words, finally spoke up, ¡°You''re the people person, you deal with this shit."


    Elijah shot Bennett a strange and frustrated look. "What the fuck? I''m not good at the whole empathy thing unless I''m faking it," he retorted with a voice tinged with annoyance and helplessness.


    Bennett gestured towards the girl with both hands in a graceful manner. "Then fake it," he replied firmly yet sarcastically.


    ¡°Oh god¡­¡± Elijah softly groaned as his hand came up and rubbed his eye. ¡°Alright¡­¡±


    The medic then allowed his weapon to dangle from his chest as he raised his hand and started to approach the girl cautiously. Kneeling down a safe distance away to appear less intimidating, "Hey, hey¡­ it''s okay. We''re not going to hurt you. We''re here to help," Elijah spoke softly, trying to project a sense of calm and safety.¡±


    But the girl seemed lost in her own world of pain and fear as her cries drowned out his words. Elijah looked back at Bennett helplessly, silently communicating this was utterly out of his realm of expertise, but the engineer just urged him to continue with his hand.


    Elijah took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts on how to approach this delicate situation. He was pretty good at persuasion and playing mind games, but genuine sympathy was not his forte. The man needed to find a way to connect with the girl, to somehow break through her wall of despair.


    He hesitated momentarily, then spoke again with a softer tone this time around. "We... we took care of the bad guys who hurt your family," he said, gesturing toward the corpses of the armored figures that slumped against the wall and lay dead on the floor. "They won''t be hurting anyone else."


    As he spoke, Elijah rummaged through his pockets, looking for something, anything that might serve as a small gesture of kindness. His fingers closed around something unexpected¡ªa half-eaten cookie. He pulled it out and gave it a strange look, remembering Yana munching on it earlier. Glancing back at Bennett, he saw the engineer''s judgmental gaze fixed on him.


    Turning back to the girl, Elijah cautiously extended the cookie towards her. "Here," he said gently. "I know it''s not much, but... maybe it''ll help a little."


    The girl, still rocking back and forth with her face buried in her arms, didn''t seem to notice the offered treat as her sobs continued. Elijah felt a twinge of helplessness, a rare feeling for someone usually so in control of his surroundings.


    "Please," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "You''re safe now. We took out all the uhh¡­ bandits that were attacking your village." He said softly, with an uncomfortable look plastered on his face. ¡°You don¡¯t look hurt, so come outside and help the rest of your um¡­ Friends? Villagemates?¡±


    Elijah stayed in that position with his hand extended, still offering the cookies as a symbol of peace. The simple act of kindness felt strangely foreign to Elijah, yet it was the most human thing he could think of.


    Miraculously, the girl gradually ceased her rocking, and the intensity of her sobs lessened as she slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot and held the look of fear, but it seemed the juxtaposition of a stranger offering a half-eaten cookie amongst horror in the room perplexed her. She still shivered uncontrollably, her gaze flickering between Elijah''s face and the cookie in his hand.


    The room was filled with a palpable tension, the kind that precedes a pivotal moment. Elijah held his breath as the cookie that still extended in a gesture of goodwill, was accepted after what felt like an eternity. The girl hesitantly reached out with a trembling hand and took the treat.


    ¡°Holy shit, I can¡¯t believe that fucking worked.¡± Bennett suddenly spoke up in the background.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 46

    Elijah narrowed his eyes at the young teenage girl he had ¡®rescued¡¯ from the literal house of horrors. She sat hugging her knees on a cart, her eyes bulging out of her head as she stared into the distance.


    He couldn¡¯t quite imagine what was going through her mind. The trauma, the fear, the sheer weight of having lost everything in such a brutal, senseless fashion. It was a familiar scene to Elijah. He had seen similar scenes in Iraq and Syria, where ISIS''s reign of terror had left indelible scars on countless lives. Villages were destroyed, families were torn apart, and the haunting presence of slave markets where human lives were traded like commodities.


    As he looked around at the burning village, Elijah saw innumerable faces overwhelmed with a sense of deep helplessness. These were not soldiers, they were just regular ol¡¯ people trying to live their lives, and the people charged to protect them and their way of life turned out to be their worst enemy.


    Fate would have it, said hostile force turned out to be the only lifeline these villagers had.


    Sure the special forces team had ulterior motives, but they were still offering tangible help and compassion to those who had just faced the unimaginable. And Elijah was acutely aware of the complex dynamics at play. He had just finished treating one of the few surviving men who had been fortunate enough to have survived the attack. He had multiple fractures, lacerations, and severe bruising, but the man had avoided anything life-threatening.


    Glancing over to Samson, the team''s other medic who was assisting his own patient. A young boy with a stab wound and a broken leg. Elijah called out to him, "Hey, don''t use any of our supplies if we don''t have to. We need to keep a handle on what we go through."


    When he heard Elijah''s words, Samson was already digging into his advanced trauma kit when he froze. The younger and gruff-looking man froze as a scowl formed on his face. The kit contained items that would greatly assist in treating the boy''s injuries, but they had to be judicious with their resources. With a mix of frustration and understanding, Samson clicked his tongue and instead, applied only the most basic form of first aid, using the very primitive and equally limited medical resources available from the village''s own supplies.


    Coleman narrowed his eyes and stared disapprovingly at Elijah. "It''s a kid, Eli," he commented, his tone laced with a hint of reproach, knowing full well the kind of response he might receive.


    Elijah, tying off a bandage on the injured man he was working on, didn¡¯t even look up as he retorted, "Doesn''t change the fact we gotta conserve what limited resources we have. Plus, we don''t know how long we''ll be out here." He finished securing the bandage with a precise knot and added, almost nonchalantly, "So, fuck them kids."


    The team leader rolled his eyes at the stark and unapologetic response. Coleman couldn¡¯t help but think he should have known better than saying anything. This kind of cold and calculating pragmatism had been a staple when it came to Elijah for as long as Coleman had known the borderline sociopath.


    But as distasteful as it was, the medic wasn¡¯t wrong. In his line of work, resources were always finite, and prioritizing them was part of the job, no matter how harsh it might seem.


    ¡°Ugh! Those stupid idiots!¡± Yana barked in annoyance as she looked around. ¡°It¡¯s all a mess!¡±


    Yana''s exasperation was palpable as she fluttered about the devastated village, her eyes a glowing violet hue indicative of her emotional turmoil. Her frustration seemed to stem not just from the physical destruction around her, but from something unseen, something beyond the understanding of the Special Forces team.


    "What the hell are you going on about?" Elijah finally asked with a tone mixed with concern and confusion. He and Coleman shared a look, unsure of how to interpret Yana''s erratic behavior.


    Ignoring their queries, Yana continued her agitated monologue, seemingly addressing someone or something invisible to the human eye. "Go, stay, become a wraith, MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" she yelled impatiently.


    Elijah turned back towards his GMV to see if Azeline held any answer, but the woman¡¯s own gaze was a potent concoction of skepticism and discomfort. She side-eyed the fairy as if she was truly feeling something troubling as her brow furrowed in a silent, questioning alarm.


    Several moments passed as Elijah¡¯s gaze remained fixed on Azeline who seemed just as perplexed and disturbed by Yana''s outburst as everyone else. Her own gaze searched for any sign of insight or understanding, but it was evident by her hard look and gaping mouth that she was equally at a loss.


    Turning his attention back to Yana, Elijah watched for several long moments as the fairy darted about in the sky and continued to rant and rave like a crazy person. With a shake of his head and an incredulous look on his face, he muttered under his breath, "I ain''t dealing with this shit right now,¡± before getting up and moving to his GMV.


    Coleman, following closely behind, chimed in with his own thoughts. "Logic dictates we should look into whatever the psycho magic demon says, but I can''t be fucked to be honest." His voice blended resignation and practicality while he sat in the passenger seat and started fiddling with the radio.


    ¡°Voyeur 1, this is Baron, over," Coleman began, keying the radio as he prepared to give a situational report to the signal intelligence unit hiding out somewhere and acting as a relay to higher command. His voice was calm and composed, but there was an undercurrent of weariness that hinted at the strain of the day''s events.


    "Baron, this is Voyeur 1, send your traffic, over," came the crackling response from their unit headquarters.


    Coleman glanced briefly at Elijah, who was rummaging through the bags near Azeline before he continued. "Voyeur 1, we¡¯re pivoting to unconventional warfare. We''ve made contact with locals and are currently assessing the situation. Encountered hostile forces employing scorched earth tactics on the civilian population. Providing immediate aid and security. Over."


    ¡°Baron, stand by.¡± The radio fell silent as Voyeur 1 processed the information, leaving Coleman waiting.


    During this lull, Elijah took the opportunity to address the elf in the back of the vehicle "The fairy really makes you uncomfortable, doesn''t she?" he asked as he still rifled through baggage.


    Azeline shot a quick, scrutinizing glance at Elijah before her gaze fixated back on the still-agitated Yana, fluttering erratically in the sky. "Yes," she began, her voice carrying a weight of experience. "I''ve seen what these little monsters can do to people." Her expression was a complex mix of wariness and nostalgia.


    The scene became a flurry of activity as they all did their best to prepare the survivors to leave the area. Bennett and another engineer were focused on fixing and reinforcing carts, ensuring they were functional enough for travel. The weapon sergeants were sorting through the mountain of salvage items, prioritizing what could be useful.


    With a grunt, Elij pulled the 5-gallon jerry can from its secured location. When he looked around for help, his eyes fell on the team sergeant, Kwon, and the intelligence sergeant, Jones walking towards him.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious.¡± Kwon spoke up as he reached up to help with the jerry can. "So, why''d you decide to bother with the villagers?" He asked, looking at Elijah with an inquisitive gaze


    Jones, who was standing a step behind, also chimed in, "I get that making contact and ingratiating ourselves with the locals would be useful, but we could''ve easily done that with a village that wasn''t destroyed. This one''s a complete write-off."


    As Elijah secured the equipment back into place, Coleman, who had been quietly listening, suddenly interjected and answered for him. "Information operations."


    "Bingo," Elijah responded with a grunt as he tightened the paracord knots. He then turned back to Kwon and Jones, explaining further. "As you all know, our main directive is to Influence, disrupt, corrupt, or usurp the decision-making process of our adversaries."


    Elijah continued, "By helping these villagers, we''re creating a narrative. It''s a strategic move. We''re showing that we''re not just invaders or combatants. We''re allies, saviors even. This kind of goodwill can lead to more cooperation from the locals, better intel, and a more favorable view of our presence here."


    With an eye twitching with impatience, Kwon spoke up once more to cut through the double speak. "Yeah, yeah, the standard information warfare bullshit. We get it, Eli. But get to the point. Why this village?" His said, demanding for a more direct answer to Jones'' question.


    A moment of silence enveloped the group as Elijah looked around until his eyes fell on that teenage girl he pulled out of that cabinet. "They''re doing scorched earth here. Burning their own villages and harassing their own people," he explained, turning back to Kwon and Jones. "We need to be ahead of the curve in the information game. They''ve been caught red-handed, and we''ve got survivors to act as witnesses."


    He paused for emphasis, ensuring his words sank in. "if we jump from village to village, town to town, we can get a handle on the narrative before this Empire or whatever they are, do.¡±


    "Our enemy is playing dirty and being brutal to their own people in an effort to turn the local population against us. If we can get ahead of this and spin it around, it''ll open a lot of doors for us and make operating in this area significantly less complicated," Coleman spoke up reinforcing Elijah¡¯s point.


    Elijah nodded in agreement. "Yep, if we take our survivors, act as saviors, and potentially intervene in any other attacks, we can make a significant impact in the information space and create a huge disconnect between the government and it¡¯s people." He elaborated as he jumped down from the vehicle¡¯s roof.


    ¡°Hearts and minds, gentlemen!¡± he finished with an annoying, tooth smirk. ¡°Hearts and minds!¡±


    Just as Elijah finished his statement and hopped down from the vehicle, the radio crackled back to life, interrupting the conversation. "Baron, You are authorized to proceed with your new operation. Execute as you see fit. We''re cutting you loose to manage this situation on the ground. How copy?"


    The team members exchanged looks, a mixture of determination and resolve in their expressions. This was it ¨C they were being given the green light to run the operation in their own style, adapting to the unique challenges of this environment and the unconventional warfare they were engaged in.


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    Coleman keyed the radio, responding with a crisp acknowledgment, "Baron copies all, proceeding with the new mission as per new directives. Baron out."


    Kwon and Jones exchanged a look of understanding. What Elijah and Coleman said made a lot of sense, especially with a ground invasion looming on the horizon. If they could turn a few villages and towns friendly, it would significantly simplify operations for all special forces units operating in the area.


    ¡°Not only would mapping enemy locations become trivial, but we¡¯d also probably get quite a bit of targets of opportunity,¡± Elijah said as his gaze floated between the other three men. ¡°And that¡¯s where my next little scheme comes into play¡­¡± An evil smirk spreads across his face, causing Coleman to narrow his eyes and Kwon to shift nervously.


    Jones was relatively new to the team and was the least familiar with Elijah''s antics. The poor Intelligence sergeant looked on with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What scheme?" he asked cautiously.


    Elijah leaned against the GMV, his gaze sharp. "Now that we''ve seen they¡¯re using a scorched earth policy, we should make it backfire spectacularly. If we start spreading these survivors out and dropping a few in each village and start a little strategic rumor-mongering, maybe greasing a few palms where necessary. Before you know it, the locals aren''t just passive observers; they become active participants in undermining their own tyrannical regime."


    ¡°Peasants start to get nervous and merchants become loose-lipped in an effort to save their family and property,¡± Elijah said in nearly a sing-song voice as he looked up at Yana as she did her strange soul-tornado ritual again. ¡°Then suddenly, you start getting high-value targets dropped in your lap


    Kwon''s expression hardened as he considered Elijah''s plan. "You want to break apart an already broken community even more...?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.


    A scoff left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he waved dismissively. "Oh please, as if the prospects of this community aren''t already doomed." His gaze shifted to Azeline, who had been quietly observing the discussion.


    "Here," Elijah continued, switching to a language the Elf could understand. "We¡¯re talking about what to do with the survivors. What do you think the fate would be for the people of this village?" He asked, genuinely curious about her perspective.


    Surprised by the question, Azeline looked back at Elijah with a raised eyebrow. After a brief pause, she spoke, her voice laced with a grim certainty. "In situations like these¡­ They would likely become slaves.¡± She said indifferently looking over at the women as if they were pitiful. ¡°At best they¡¯d be forced into brothels or work in taverns and whore themselves.¡±


    Elijah turned back to Kwon with a look that said ¡®I told you so¡¯ and leaned against the GMV.


    However, Coleman interjected and stood up. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to allow that to happen.¡± He said definitively as he shot Elijah a scolding look. ¡°Just because that is the norm here, does not mean we have to accept it.¡±


    A sigh left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he rolled his eyes.


    ¡°We¡¯re at least going to try to get these people to a place of reasonable safety," Coleman continued, his tone firm and authoritative. "The mission comes first, but we don''t have to discard people like objects."


    Elijah wanted to protest as the thought of how rumors spread quickly among certain circles and professions crossed his mind, but he stopped himself. He decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. The man was rather cold and callous, but he could still read the room and people''s emotions, so he thought better of rocking the boat.


    "Alright, everyone, let''s hurry it up!" Coleman bellowed as he clapped his. "We need to be out of here within the hour. Let''s get these survivors sorted and get the hell out of here!"


    A collective grumble spread throughout the team as they picked up the pace and it wasn¡¯t long until the villagers were helped onto the carts. Despite the bleakness of their situation, there was now a glimmer of hope.


    Maybe all was not lost after all.


    -


    Lysandra sat on a strange stool over half her height as her brow furrowed with curiosity and wonder. The tavern she was in was unlike any place she had ever seen. The ambient light flickered from small lamps scattered throughout the small building, casting shadows that danced along the walls. People were gathered in small groups, engaged in hushed conversations or laughing heartily over shared jokes. In one corner, Lysandra watched as a group was absorbed in a game that involved sticks and balls on a table.


    Everything about the situation was alien. Even down to her attire. In stark contrast to the armor or loose clothing she usually wore, she found herself dressed in form-fitting clothes that were both stylish and shockingly flexible. The material hugged her body in a flattering and practical way, allowing for ease of movement.


    As she turned towards what looked like a large bar, Lysandra hummed in interest as she looked at the bottles of liquor that lined the wall and her hand instinctively reached up to her left eye. She scratched at her eyepatch, an old and bad habit when she was still trying to get used to its permanent presence.


    ¡°Anythin¡¯ I can get ya?¡±


    Lysandra''s attention was snapped back to the present as the bartender finally noticed her. A rotund, yet muscular man lumbered over. placing both hands firmly on the counter before leaning forward. The man gave her an unimpressed and annoyed look as his eyes traveled up and down, but Lysandra occasionally caught the man¡¯s gaze flicker away every moment or so.


    In the corner of the claustrophobic tavern was the group that strange stick and ball game, laughing and joking while slapping money on the table.


    "Uh, yes," Lysandra responded in her heavily accented English as she glanced briefly at the assortment of bottles behind him. "I''m not quite sure. What do you recommend for someone... new to this kind of establishment?"


    The bartender sucked his teeth as he looked her up and down one more time. ¡°Prolly somethin¡¯ light.¡± He said in a heavy drawl.


    ¡°Light¡­?¡± Lysandra repeated what the man had said as her sole good eye twitched. ¡°I do believe I¡¯m capable of doing better than ''light''.¡± She said in mild annoyance.


    A childish grumble of a chuck left the bartender''s mouth as he watched her scornful glare. ¡°Heheheh, alright then, lady.¡± He said turning around and grabbing a bottle of dark brown liquid. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I didn¡¯t warn ya.¡±


    Narrowing her eye, Lysandra watched him pour the liquid into a small glass, containing two large ice cubes that clinked against the sides.


    As he did so, the bartender smiled annoyingly and opened his mouth again, ¡°I dunno, you don¡¯t want somethin¡¯ fruity and light?¡± He said snidely.


    "Enough, just give me the drink!" Lysandra hissed, stabbing her finger onto the countertop.


    Another petulant laugh left the man¡¯s mouth as he handed over the glass, but his attention was suddenly diverted toward the group playing the game. "Hey!" he snapped in a deep drawl. "Cut that shit out, or both of ya are getting thrown out on ya asses!¡± The bartender''s voice bellowed throughout the establishment.


    Lysandra''s gaze turned to the corner where the group played that strange game. The atmosphere had shifted from friendly competition to something more tense. One players, visibly agitated, grabbed the other by the scruff of his neck and cocked his fist back. The potential victim¡¯s hand clenched around a fistful of money and moved his hands to protect his face when the bartender''s threat caused them both to seize up and shrink away meekly.


    With the situation diffused, Lysandra returned her attention to her drink and took a cautious, but still generous sip. However, once the liquid had hit her tongue and slid down her throat, she almost regretted her decision. The drink was MUCH stronger than she had anticipated and its warmth quickly spread throughout her body as her tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth, and her long Elven ears bounced up and down.


    It took everything she could to stop from choking and causing a scene, but she couldn¡¯t help but be struck by the drinks complex character. The alcohol, dark and enigmatic in its essence, cascaded over her tongue like a wave of intense, smoky flavors intertwined with subtle hints of caramel and spice. It was an intricate dance of tastes, each sip revealing new layers of depth that unfolded gradually, warming her from the inside out. The burn of the alcohol was strong, yet it was tempered by a lingering sweetness that clung to her palate, making it both challenging and intriguing. This was not just a drink; it was an experience, a journey through flavors she had never encountered in her previous world.


    Trying to maintain her composure, Lysandra couldn''t help but feel the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in a reluctant smile.


    Feeling the need to tidy up after her adventurous sip, she looked to the bartender and requested, "A napkin, or something similar, please."


    The bartender, with an arrogant smirk, leaned in closer. "Having trouble there?" he teased in a condescending tone.


    Lysandra shot him a glare, her good eye narrowing into a slit, but she chose not to engage any further and she waited silently to do as he was told.


    With a chuckle, the bartender bent down and grabbed a fistful of napkins, placing them on the counter with a deliberate thud. "Here ya go, lil miss," he said, still smiling.


    Snatching the napkins of his hand with an icy look, Lysandra delicately dabbed her lips as she stared down the smirking bartender. Even when he went off to service other customers or busy himself with other tasks, she still glared hatefully at the man as she slid the napkins into her pocket.


    It took her a while, but Lysandra finally calmed down and slowly finished the rest of her liquid treat, She sat there sipping contentedly as she glanced around, observing the dynamics of this shifty and strange tavern. But it wasn¡¯t long until she decided she had her fill of this new experience and stood up to take her leave.


    As she walked out of the tavern, Lysandra felt the shift in atmosphere from the dimly lit, bustling interior to the cool, open air of the outside world. The change was refreshing, a welcome reprieve from the close confines and the intense scrutiny of the tavern''s patrons.


    Gaining some distance from the establishment, she turned a corner, her senses heightened by the unfamiliar surroundings. It was then, out of the corner of her good eye, she noticed something unsettling ¨C two figures discreetly following her. It was only a momentary glimpse, but it was enough to set off the alarm bells in her mind. She tried to recall their features, piecing together their appearances in her head. Then it clicked ¨C they were the same individuals involved in the heated game involving sticks and balls at the tavern.


    Her instincts kicked in, and Lysandra quickened her pace, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket, feeling for anything that might aid her in a confrontation. The rhythmic sound of her pursuers'' footsteps grew louder, indicating they too had increased their speed.


    Suddenly, she heard the rapid approach of footsteps and a voice calling out, "Miss! Miss! You forgot something!"


    Lysandra''s heart pounded as she weighed her options ¨C to confront or continue evading. And coming to a snap decision, she faced the situation head-on. Turning sharply, she braced herself to confront the two men, her hand still firmly inside her pocket, ready for whatever was about to unfold.


    When the two men approached, Lysandra noted a slight hesitation in their steps, but they continued to advance. The closer of the two, breathing heavily from the chase, managed to say, "Ma''am, look, you forgot this." He said looking at his friend who was reaching into his pocket.


    But Lysandra noticed something strange; they were still maintaining their brisk pace.


    Without hesitation, Lysandra immediately tried to yank her hand out of her pocket, but the men were faster. One of them leaped at her, attaching themselves to her arm while the other rushed her, pulling out a knife.


    Lysandra stumbled back from the sudden tackle, but she was still in the fight. Her other hand shot up, grabbing the wrist of the knife-wielding assailant. She initially struggled to maintain her footing, once steadied, Lysandra pushed forward with all her might, slamming everyone, including herself, against the wall, eliciting a chorus of gasps and yelps of pain, but the men clung on tenaciously.


    Bracing herself, Lysandra yanked her arm back with all her strength, causing the man hanging onto her to fly back with a scream. Now free, she finally was able to pull the gun that was resting in her pocket and aimed it directly at the face of the remaining attacker.


    Her finger tightened on the trigger, but before she could act, a sudden booming voice filled the air.


    ¡°STOP SCENARIO!!¡±


    Everyone immediately relaxed at the sound of the command, and their hands dropped to their sides.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 47

    ¡°Jesus-FUCKING-Christ, why is she so goddamn STRONG?¡± The man who flew off complained as he crawled on the ground.


    As the man groaned, a litany of instructors and cadre started to come out of the woodwork as if they just materialized out of thin air. Among them was a woman with striking blonde hair dressed in black jeans and a grey T-shirt that looked more at home on a college campus other than the infamous CIA training ground, also known simply as The Farm. The blonde stepped forward with her arms crossed, and even though she was petite and dainty, the woman exuded authority as she looked over everyone with an expression that said she wasn¡¯t to be trifled with.


    "Well done, I¡¯m impressed." The woman began with an encouraging tone. "You''re rather convincing in some areas, but your approach has a few fatal flaws." She continued while walking up to Lysandra with a clipboard in hand.


    The blonde cadre looked down at the man writhing in pain and raised an eyebrow before turning back to Lysandra. "For instance, putting the napkin in your pocket," she continued, "No one does that."


    ¡°Another point of contention¡­¡± The Blonde cadre glanced over her clipboard again. "Is your situational awareness, you need to be mindful of your exits and potential threats.¡±


    ¡°You were already made by your first mistake, but during your exfil, you focused too much on your immediate aggressors and missed opportunities to escape or use your environment to your advantage." She retraced Lysandra¡¯s steps and pointed out critical details in the alleyway.


    Lysandra scratched behind her ears and interjected, addressing the instructor by name. "Jamie, I didn''t have much time. It only took a few seconds for them to catch up."


    Jamie stared briefly at the Elf before tossing her clipboard to another instructor and snapping her fingers, signaling the scenario to reset. "Jared, stop wriggling around like a bitch," she called out to the man still on the ground. "You and Mike, go back to where Lysandra first saw you."


    The two men groaned as they got up and moved to reposition themselves as instructed. Jamie in the meantime, prepared to demonstrate an alternative course of action as she assumed the role of Lysandra and gestured for the elf to observe closely.


    "Watch how I handle this," Jamie said as she started walking the same path Lysandra had taken.


    As soon as she rounded the corner and ''spotted'' Jared and Mike, she didn''t hesitate. Jamie broke into a swift sprint. In a matter of seconds, Jamie reached the dumpster near the wall, and without slowing down, she leaped onto it, using the momentum to propel herself upward toward the fire escape ladder. She grabbed the ladder''s lower rungs with practiced ease, pulled herself up, and slipped into the shadows of a doorway.


    By the time Jared and Mike reached the same point, they turned the corner to see an empty alleyway with no sign of their target. They looked around and heaved an annoyed sign while their eyes scanned the area for any trace of Jamie, but she had vanished into thin air.


    After a few moments, Jamie popped her head out from the doorway, looking down at Lysandra. "From here," she began, gesturing towards the shadowy doorway she had used for her escape, "you have options. You can pick the lock and make entry into the building, giving you a chance to either find a hiding spot or a new exit. Or," she paused, pointing up to the higher levels of the fire escape, "you can keep going up, putting more distance between you and your pursuers."


    ¡°Of-fuckin¡¯-course.¡± Mike rolled his eyes and threw his arms up. ¡°Of course, you¡¯re up there, why wouldn¡¯t you be?¡±


    ¡°I swear, she''s a goddamn monkey,¡± Jared added, scratching his head.


    Lysandra''s eye twitched, partly in awe and partly in frustration. Lysandra found the speed of Jamie''s decision-making, coupled with her agility without the aid of any form of magical empowerment, difficult to comprehend. Being able to harness the powers of mana naturally from a young age, Lysandra was always used to relying on her physical abilities and enhanced senses. Still, Jamie''s approach made her aware that maybe she had grown reliant on those abilities.


    Noticing Lysandra''s reaction, Jamie climbed down from her perch and walked back towards the group. "But, these are all just minor tactical issues. The most concerning is that you were made in the first place," she started, addressing the core of Lysandra''s earlier actions. "As you can tell, I''m not particularly strong, and I don''t have that magic shit or whatever to overpower someone. If two men like Jared and Mike caught me, it''s over."


    ¡°So the first order of things is, don¡¯t get made,¡± Jamie said, holding up a singular finger. ¡°If you¡¯re made, don¡¯t get caught.¡± She then threw up a second finger. ¡°And finally, if you¡¯re caught, don¡¯t die.¡±


    As Jamie laid out the cardinal rules of their line of work, Lysandria felt as if each was a stab in the heart. She had struck 2 for 3. As she mulled over Jamie''s words, Lysandra couldn''t help but scratch at her eyepatch, a gesture that had become a subconscious tick whenever she was deep in thought or grappling with a problem.


    ¡°You said I was convincing though¡­¡± Lysandra said meekly in an attempt to defend herself. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t most people just glaze that I put a napkin in my pocket?¡±


    A sigh left Jamie''s mouth as she flicked some hair out of her face. ¡°You¡¯re not trying to convince ¡®most¡¯ people. You¡¯re trying to convince trained observers," Jamie lectured, emphasizing each word. "You need to blend in and become effectively background noise."


    Jamie then turned to Mike and Jared and crossed her arms. "Besides the napkin, what else made Lysandra stand out to you? Why did you pay more attention to her than the other trainees in the bar?"


    "She was talking too much," Jared responded first and stated bluntly. "In a place like that, most people are there to unwind and mind their own business. They don''t engage much with the staff beyond what''s necessary, especially as a first-timer."


    Mike nodded in agreement and added his perspective. "It didn''t necessarily give her away per se, but it drew a lot more attention than it needed to. And honestly, that¡¯s all we needed to key her as a person of interest."


    Lysandra cringed and shifted uncomfortably at the critique while her ears drooped slightly in distress. The sharpness of the feedback, while meant to be constructive, had clearly struck a chord with her.


    Sensing Lysandra''s discomfort, Jamie''s demeanor softened significantly. She let out a gentle sigh and offered a more approachable, almost nurturing smile as she stepped closer to Lysandra. She decided it was best to switch from the strict instructor and change her approach to something more palpable, like a guiding mentor.


    "Hey, look," Jamie said softly in a tone that carried warmth. "I know you¡¯re new at this and were kinda just thrown to the wolves, so I understand it can be tough to hear.¡± She continued placing a hand on Lysandra¡¯s arm. ¡°But you¡¯re doing really well and we just want you to succeed."


    "You have experiences and knowledge from the other side that we don''t, and that''s invaluable to us.¡± She gestured to the rest of the instructors and cadre. ¡°So we need to make sure you¡¯re not just qualified, but overqualified so when you come back, you can train the next generation that comes through¡­ or even train us."


    When Lysandra looked up, the disheartened look on her face started to melt away as she took a deep breath. The cadre¡¯s words of encouragement seemed to reignite a sense of renewed determination within her as her posture straightened and her ears perked up slightly.


    "I understand," Lysandra responded, her voice steady. "Let''s continue then."


    Observing the change in demeanor, Jamie couldn''t help but smile, pleased with the elf''s response. However, her professionalism immediately snapped back into place when she turned back to her team, "Alright, everyone!" Jamie announced, addressing the instructors and trainees. "Let''s take a break from tradecraft for now and transition to weapons and joint operations training. ¡°Jamie''s hands clapped together and she began walking out of the alleyway. ¡°We''ve still got a lot to cover!"


    -


    The clicks of Toivonen¡¯s heels echoed throughout the walls of the Pentagon as she walked with a sense of purpose. She was dressed impeccably in her sleek business top with her pencil skirt and exuded the perfect blend of professionalism and elegance.


    As she made her way through the corridors of such vaunted and prestigious halls, she passed by men and women in their dress uniforms so impeccably maintained and adorned with a litany of service ribbons, and they were the envy of all. But today, Toivonen¡¯s presence took priority as she clutched tightly at a relatively thick folder nestled securely within her arms.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Toivonen''s journey through the Pentagon stopped her in front of a particular door with two stern-looking Military Police (MP) officers standing outside. A strange foreboding feeling started to swell in the pit of her stomach as she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. For all that had gone wrong that past half year, she had managed to stay afloat and lock in a meeting with the highest echelons of the United States; this wasn''t just another high-level meeting; it was potentially a defining moment not only for her career but for the trajectory of national security and global affairs.


    As Toivonen stood there, her thoughts raced, and the specter of self-doubt began to rear its ugly face. The sheer magnitude of what lay ahead was starting to become overwhelming. Right now, she was about to present critical intelligence and recommendations on matters that would reshape the fate of not only the United States but the world. They stood on the precipice, and Toivonen would be the slight nudge that would send them over the edge.


    The two MPs in front of her maintained their hard, neutral expressions, trained to be the epitome of military professionalism. However, sensing her hesitation, one of them¡ªa dark-skinned man with a steely gaze¡ªcaught Toivonen¡¯s eye and gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.


    Drawing in another deep breath, Toivonen steeled herself and stepped forward.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, Identification please.¡± One of the MPs spoke as they both nodded at Toivonen.


    Tremors of nervousness coursed through Toivonen as her hands gripped tightly around the plastic ID badge. However, through force of will, she fought through her nerves and pulled the lanyard forward to present it to the MP.


    The large, muscular man grabbed her credentials and took a moment to scrutinize the badge, his eyes flicking from her face to the imprinted photo. Cross-referencing the attendance sheet, triple-checked her face, her name, and her clearance level printed on it. Satisfied, he then nodded to his colleague, who stepped forward with a handheld biometric scanner.


    "Please place your thumb on the scanner, ma''am," the second MP instructed.


    Toivonen complied, pressing her thumb firmly against the glass surface of the device. The scanner whirred, verifying her fingerprint against the Pentagon''s secure database. After a brief moment, a green light blinked on the device, signaling a successful match.


    The MPs exchanged glances before the one with the scanner spoke, "Apologies for the delay, ma''am. You¡¯re cleared to proceed."


    With her identification verified, Toivonen quickly stepped through the door as the MP turned back to their security detail. Once in the new room, she was immediately met with a metal detector and various unknown scanning devices, hinting at the level of security and secrecy of the meeting she was about to attend.


    But beyond the security checkpoint, the atmosphere of the room shifted noticeably. Several soldiers populated it, and these individuals had a different air than the MPs outside. Unlike the usual strict and rigid professionalism a soldier would have in these vaunted halls, these men exuded a more relaxed and casual demeanor. Yet, there was an undercurrent of alertness and danger to their presence. They were clad in various customized and personalized gear, their weapons not standard issue but rather tailored to their individual preferences and roles.


    Toivonen recognized them immediately. These people were no ordinary soldiers, nor were they ordinary security detail. The organizers of this meeting were taking no chances and enlisted a highly trained special missions unit from the exalted Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) to safeguard them. Their presence here spoke volumes about the level of secrecy and importance of this evening.


    As she passed through the metal detectors, the soft beep and humm of devices echoed throughout the room signifying their scans had completed. The operators in the room observed her intensely as they moved closer


    ¡°ID, please, ma''am," one of them requested in a less than formal tone but still maintained a semblance of procedure.


    Complying with the operator''s request, Toivonen presented her credentials once more. The operators quickly glanced at her ID, their eyes flicking back and forth between the badge and Toivonen herself. After a brief examination, one of them spoke up, "Please spread your arms and legs, ma''am. I apologize for the intrusion."


    Toivonen did as instructed and stood still as another operator approached her with a strange-looking device. The operator meticulously waved a paddle like device across every inch of her body as if scanning for something. It was an invasive process, but Toivonen understood the importance of such stringent security measures given the nature of the meeting.


    Once the operators seemed satisfied with the results. They nodded to her, indicating that she was cleared to proceed. "They''re waiting for you inside." The soldier said, moving out of the way.


    With her ID around her neck and her documents snug against her body, Toivonen prepared to enter the final stage of her journey to the meeting. However, the weight of the moment caused her to pause one last time before stepping into the room where decisions of immense consequence were to be made.


    Collecting her thoughts and calming her nerves, Toivonen took one last breath before throwing open the door. Once inside, she was met with the gaze of some of the most powerful individuals in the United States. The room was filled with high-ranking military officers and top government officials, and each of them stared directly at her.


    The Secretary of Defense, Mark Leigh, sat stoically, his eyes seemingly trying to bore a hole into her. Besides him, the Secretary of State, Cassandra Easton, had a much more subdued and harder-to-read expression as she quietly conversed with an aide. The Joint Chiefs of Staff and their Chairman were engaged in their own hushed discussion at one end of the table while the Speaker of the House, Marcus Shaw, motioned for her to sit down.


    For a moment, Toivonen found herself standing there like a deer in the headlights, but her training soon kicked in. Steeling herself, she turned off her emotions, confidently strode towards the large ornate table, placed her documents in front of the Director of National Intelligence, and sat down.


    "Well, now that''s Mich''s girl here; let''s get started," The Speaker of the House said, turning towards the Director of National Intelligence, Thomas Dalton, for him to introduce the girl.


    ¡°Ladies, Gentlemen, Mr. President, this is Ms. Evelina Toivonen from the Central Intelligence Agency.¡± Thomas Dalton stood up and gestured towards Toivonen. ¡°She and many of her esteemed colleagues have been instrumental in spearheading a project that has not only helped us understand the language of these extraterrestrial beings but has also played a critical role in enlisting individuals who can help us better understand the strange energy these beings wield."


    As Dalton spoke, murmurs echoed among the officials from NATO countries and allied nations listening in through a secure broadcast. One voice, with a distinct British accent, broke through the murmurs. "Director Dalton, could you elaborate on the nature of this ''strange energy''? How does it differ from our conventional understanding of physics or energy manipulation?"


    Another voice, this time from a French official, spoke in a concerned tone, "And what about the potential uses for this knowledge? Are there exotic resources required that are only found on the other side of that rift to use it?¡±


    A barrage of questions came hurtling through the broadcast as representatives of allied nations expressed their concerns and curiosity. The topics ranged from the potential for energy production using this new form of energy to the geopolitical implications of being the only nation with access to this new plane of reality.


    Sensing the need to address these concerns diplomatically, a top scientist from the project team stood up to speak. She glanced at the Secretary of State, who nodded subtly in approval, signaling her to proceed.


    "I-if I may¡­ I understand t-there are many questions and concerns regarding this umm¡­ this discovery," the scientist began with a shaky voice, unused to speaking to such powerful people. "I want to assure you that our understanding of this energy and its implications is still in its infancy. Our team, including leading physicists and experts in the field, is working tirelessly to unravel the mysteries of this new plane of reality."


    She finally got into her groove and continued, "Our goal is to be as transparent as possible with our findings. We are in the process of establishing a collaborative framework with our international partners. This includes working closely with experts in mythology and ancient civilizations to explore potential historical overlaps and insights."


    As soon as she finished speaking, another slew of questions poured in through the broadcast, each representative eager to voice their nation''s concerns and interests.


    Sensing the need to refocus the meeting, the President of the United States¡¯ voice boomed over the broadcast and quieted the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, please," he interjected firmly. "I understand the significance and the multitude of questions this discovery brings. But we must remember the primary focus of this meeting. We have interrupted Ms. Toivonen''s critical work to update us on the current status of her project, and it is only right we take care of that first."


    The room fell silent, acknowledging the President¡¯s slight reprimand before the man returned his attention to Toivonen. "Ms. Toivonen, could you please continue with your briefing? Let''s focus on the immediate challenges and how we can utilize this new knowledge to protect our planet and its inhabitants."


    Toivonen looked at the Director of National Intelligence before clearing her throat. ¡°As you know, 48 hours ago, we launched a mission¡­ codename Operation Tolkien using specialized and elite units to penetrate enemy lines.¡±


    With the room''s undivided attention, Toivonen continued her briefing. "As of 2 hours ago, we¡¯ve received word that several Special Forces teams have not only made contact with local inhabitants. After securing the area, the team has also gathered critical intelligence confirming that the enemy has been employing scorched earth tactics against their own people."


    She paused briefly, ensuring her words sank in. "However, it appears that the enemy''s command structure is decentralized. There are multiple factions, some of which are attacking villages while others are defending them."


    This revelation sparked a new wave of murmurs among the attendees while The Speaker of the House flipped through page after page of the documents in his hand. He then turned to Toivonen and gave her a difficult look. All of a sudden, he was A LOT more interested in that project she was running.


    ¡°We believe we have the assets to drive a wedge between them.¡± Toivonene finished, folding her hands on the desk and smiling.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 48

    Yzael stirred from her dreams as the morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of her quaint room and cast a harsh bar of light across her face. casting gentle patterns on the walls as it slowly drifted to her face.


    "Lthol''yarath¡­" Yzael once again grumbled a High Elven expletive designed specifically for cursing the morning sun when it dared to disturb a perfectly good sleep. With a huff of frustration, she flipped over in bed, yanking the sheets over her head in a desperate bid for a few more moments of darkness and tranquility.


    Although completely alien and bare, this room was her sanctuary. She did what she could to turn it into a reflection of her elven heritage blended with her personal quirks, but there was only so much one could do. It wasn¡¯t something Yzael would consider bad, per se¡­ but, there was a small annoyance with the curtain.


    It had become a daily ritual, an unwelcome intrusion into her peaceful mornings. Each and every day Yzael would be awoken by this accursed bar of light and she knew she should have fixed that heavens-damned thing months ago, but procrastination had always gotten the better of her. Every morning, when she woke up, Yzael promised herself that today would be the day she finally addressed it, yet after months, the curtain remained untouched.


    Now that Yzael had finally slipped away from the fiery tendrils of the sun, her thoughts drifted between a mix of self-admonishment. She knew she should just stand up and get it over with right now, but the comfort of her bed and the warmth of the sheets were persuasive arguments for dealing with it later. So in her heart, Yzae promised once more, to tackle the issue later.


    But, just as she was finally succumbing to the lure of sleep once more, an intrusive, incessant, and mind-numbing noise shattered the morning stillness.


    The horridly loud noise emanating from the black brick-like device on her bedside table caused Yzael to groan and thrash under the sheets. ¡°Niyir¡¯yarath!¡± The Elf growled an expletive for those intruding on one''s sleep for selfish reasons as she shot straight up and glared at the otherworldly piece of technology as if it insulted her ancestors.


    For a moment, the thought of blasting the device with a ball of fire or dousing it with acid to cease its horrible screeching crossed Yzael''s mind. Such actions would be satisfyingly appropriate for the disruption it caused. Yet, with a sigh of reluctant acceptance, she reached over, grabbed the insufferable device, and answered the thing.


    "What..? What do you want...?" The voice emerging from her throat sounded more like a plea than a demand for an answer.


    The voice on the other end chirped with an unnatural cheerfulness, "Good morning! This is your scheduled wake-up call! You have a meeting today in a few hours!"


    "Wake-up call!?" Yzael''s voice rose in disbelief and annoyance. "Why do those even exist!?" She couldn''t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such a torturous ritual. With a huff of exasperation, she hung up and tossed the device across the room in a fit of displeasure.


    As she lay back down, Yzael couldn''t help but start rambling to herself about the peculiarity of otherworldly human customs. "Gods damned humans and their obsession with time," she muttered under her breath. "Wake-up call¡­ Who even does that? Why is time so strictly documented and cataloged? Ridiculous..."


    Her mind wandered to thoughts of her own people, where time flowed more like a meandering river than otherworldly human society''s rigid clockwork. In her world, time was observed by the seasons and in the centuries, not by some incessant, mechanical ticking or the unrelenting buzz of modern devices.


    Settling back into her unreasonably comfortable bed, Yzael couldn''t help but acknowledge that, despite their near-neurotic faults, humans were quite adept at crafting a great many comforts. She let her body sink into the softness of the modern bed as it hugged her form, providing support and warmth in ways that were both foreign and delightful. This ¡®temperpudic¡¯ mattress was a stark contrast to the simple pallets or hammocks she was accustomed to in her own realm.


    As she nestled into the pillow, fluffing it to just the right thickness, Yzael mused on the human ingenuity that went into creating such a bed. The sheets were smooth and cool against her skin, a soothing sensation that almost made the earlier annoyance with the wake-up call seem trivial. She pulled the comforter up to her chin, enjoying the light yet cozy weight of it.


    The bed, with its layers of softness and warmth, was like a gentle embrace, lulling Yzael closer to the edges of sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing slowed as she began to drift off, the earlier irritation fading into a distant memory.


    But just as she was teetering on the brink of deep slumber, that awful noise emanated from her device once more. This time, however, it was in a place she couldn''t easily reach, having tossed it across the room in her previous bout of frustration.


    A derisive chuckle that sounded more like a weep of defeat than anything else, escaped Yzael''s lips as she lay there. Torn between her unwillingness to leave the sanctuary of her bed and silencing that accursed device. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh before throwing off her sheets.


    ¡°Yes! Yes! I¡¯m coming!¡± Yzael yelled as she shivered from the cool air suddenly hitting her skin.


    Ever since she had discovered the joys of silk sheets and feather-soft comforters, she had taken to sleeping in the nude, a luxury afforded by the convenient and hassle-free access to fresh beddings in this realm. The humans, for all their peculiarities, had mastered the art of laundry to an extent that allowed for virtually endless access to clean linens.


    Wrapping herself in her own arms, she begrudgingly acknowledged the only downside to this indulgence - the frigid air of this realm''s winter made emerging from her cocoon of warmth all the more challenging. But then again, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder if staying in your soft sanctuary until the air was sufficiently warmed by the afternoon air could be considered a ¡®downside¡¯.


    Yzael sat there for a moment longer, contemplating the cruel fate that made the bed so inviting yet the act of leaving it so daunting. With a groan of resignation, she finally mustered the will to throw her feet over and make towards the insufferable black brick and her troublesome duty.


    A little after Yzael reluctantly picked up the screaming device and spoke to that petulant human on the other side, she made her way to the bathroom The chill of the air and the frigidness of the tiles caused her to start shaking as she held herself tighter, but she knew that relief awaited her in the form of one of this realm''s most marvelous inventions: the shower.


    Stepping into the wondrous room, Yzael marveled at the ingenuity of this world. The ability to summon hot water to flow endlessly from a spigot mounted high on the wall without magic was nothing short of magical to her. At first, she couldn¡¯t believe her eyes when she saw it. The amount of water seemed endless, but she knew for a fact the humans of this realm were capable of truly insane feats when they put their minds to it.


    When she asked how such a thing was possible without any kind of mage, Yzael nearly doubled over when she heard the answer. Her initial introduction to the concept of plumbing had been an experience bordering on disbelief. And when they continued to explain to her how all of their cities were built with an intricate network of pipes solely to supply people with water ¨C both hot and cold ¨C at their convenience, she thought it was absolute insanity. To her, the idea that anyone would entertain such an extensive logistical undertaking for something as basic as water was unfathomable.


    As the hot water cascaded over her and started to warm her, Yzael pondered the stark contrasts between the humans of this world and those from her own. In her realm, independent human societies were far and few in between. Most humans were either subjugated as slaves or lower class, or integrated into larger, dominant cultures. The concept of such an advanced and widespread human civilization, capable of engineering feats like plumbing, was something she hadn¡¯t even considered.


    Yet here she was.


    Standing there in the shower, Yzael couldn''t help but feel a sense of wonder. The humans of this world had not only handily defeated one of the few dominant civilizations in her world, but they achieved what many would deem impossible or even ludicrous. They had bent the very fabric of their environment to their will, just to make things a little more convenient to the point that it was both awe-inspiring and, to a certain extent, overwhelming.


    ¡°Wonderful¡­¡± Yzael sighed as felt the cold flee from her body like a specter before a crusader.


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    The way the hot water traced her form, flowing over the contours of her body, was a sensation she had come to relish while the water''s gentle caress seemed to highlight her thin and slender curves. High Elves weren¡¯t as ample as the humans or their Sun Elven cousins, but her people had their own elegant allure.


    With the stream of warm water blasted down on her, Yzael''s mind inevitably turned a little more somber. This daily ritual of waking up in a nice and comfortable bed before warming up in the steam, hot shower, was a comfort she had come to appreciate deeply in this new world. Still, it was tinged with a melancholy realization. Many of her friends and associates from her world, the ones she had journeyed with and fought with, would never get to experience these simple pleasures.


    Her thoughts lingered on Gideon, Elara, Thalen, Sorin, Mirella, and Rael. Each of these names was lost to that awful battle. That awful blast¡­


    Yzael scowled for a second as she allowed the water to pelt her. She felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest, a mixture of sorrow and something else ¨C something akin to guilt. It was a strange, almost foreign emotion for Yzael, given her High Elven heritage and the longevity of her kind.


    She was among the younger generation of her people and had lived for over a thousand years. The concept of deeply bonding with their shorter-lived kin, the Sun Elves was difficult enough, but the Humans? Bonding with anyone who lived for a fraction of a fraction of your lifetime was almost unheard of in her society. The fleeting lives of Humans were often viewed as transient, with barely a few blinks in the eyes of her people. Yet, she felt a profound sense of loss and sadness for a few Humans and Sun Elves she had adventured with.


    Another sigh left Yzael¡¯s mouth as she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. But it wasn¡¯t until she turned her head and saw her reflection in the mirror that she pondered this internal conflict. Why did she feel this way? Was it simply the lingering trauma from that battle? Was it the sense of loss after knowing she would never have those adventures again? Or had she connected with those who by all rights, would be considered her lessers by her people?


    The memories of her companions ¨C their laughter, their fears, their courage ¨C all of it seemed to linger in her mind like a stubborn tick. But, what most stuck out to her was how they had treated her not as an aloof, ageless elf, but as a friend and equal, sharing in both their triumphs and tragedies.


    But that was snuffed away under the incessant barks of otherworldly gunfire and deafening explosions.


    Turning away from the mirror, Yzael grabbed her towel and quickly dried herself while entering her room. Her mind remained an entangled mess of thoughts as she pulled clothes out of drawers. Usually, she¡¯d spread an unfathomable amount of outfits on the bed and sit there for a solid hour or two in an attempt to pick what to wear, but today she found herself pressed for time. Once again that infernal noise that emanated from her device pierced the air, with that damnable jolly human on the other side reminding her that her ride had arrived and was waiting outside.


    With a contemptuous groan and a roll of her eyes, Yzael grabbed the most professional-looking outfit she could and quickly made her way to her Chaufer. And It wasn¡¯t long until Yzael found herself riding in a sleek black, and beastless carriage, that she had come to understand as a ¡®car.¡¯ The vehicle was unlike any mode of transport in her world, swift and relatively silent.


    But like all novelties, the machine¡¯s allure wore off and Yzael found herself retreating back into her mind, staring out the window. Her gaze didn¡¯t focus on anything in particular and would jump from one wonder to the next. She couldn''t help but marvel at the sight of the sprawling cityscape around her. It was a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of the ¡®military base¡¯ as the humans called it, she had initially been brought to.


    To her, the base seemed like an endless city in itself, teeming with activity and life, a perpetual buzz that never seemed to cease. But now, in the heart of an actual city, the scale and grandeur of human civilization were truly laid bare before her eyes.


    Buildings of glass and steel towered into the sky. The streets were a labyrinth of activity, filled with a sea of people, each moving with a sense of urgency that Yzael found both fascinating and bewildering. Cars zipped past, their horns blaring in a cacophony that melded into the background noise of the city.


    To be honest, the display left Yzael Overwhelmed.


    In terms of grandness, she couldn¡¯t help but compare the buildings of this metropolis to the High Elven capital of her world, a city that was a marvel in its own right, but one that resonated with a different kind of energy. Here, however, the energy was raw, unbridled ¨C a relentless drive that propelled people forward at a breakneck pace.


    The Humans boasted of even larger cities than this, and if Yzael was honest with herself, she didn¡¯t doubt them. What they¡¯ve accomplished so far with their almost insignificant lifespan had left her in awe. And if she thought about it, it wouldn¡¯t be long until they¡¯d touched the stars if they hadn¡¯t already.


    As she watched the endless stream of people, each in a hurry to get to their destination, Yzael pondered the reasons behind their haste. In her world, time was a river that flowed gently, its passage marked by centuries or at least, decades. But here, time seemed to be counted by a second. Each moment was seized and utilized to its fullest potential like some kind of irreplaceable commodity.


    However, Yzael''s contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the sudden halt of her vehicle. Jarred back into reality, the Elf scrunched her face in displeasure as an insufferable ringing noise blared out and was accompanied by the flashing red lights.


    Yzael narrowed her eyes and glared ahead as a barrier slowly descended, halting all traffic. Her long ears perked and seemed to flutter half in annoyance and half in interest as she leaned forward to decipher the cause of this unexpected stop. And that''s when she saw it ¨C a massive metal beast slowly making its way across their path.


    Moreover, the monster was pulling an endless stream of crates, each loaded onto its back like some gargantuan caravan. Yzael marveled at the thing''s sheer size. In her world, such a task would require scores of horses and carts, and even then, it wouldn''t compare to the scale of what she was witnessing.


    As she looked around to see if anyone else had the same reaction as her own, Yzael noticed a stark difference in their perception. Instead of wonder or admiration, the faces of the Humans around her were marked with impatience and frustration.


    It was as if this was a routine event.


    Something so extraordinary to her was nothing more than an inconvenience to them. And that''s when it struck her ¨C an epiphany hit her with the force of a paladin''s righteous hammer.


    The reason why these humans were so successful, so driven, was because time to them was indeed an irreplaceable commodity. Everything about their civilization, from the small comforts of daily life to their vast systems of transportation and their horrible implements of war, was centered around logistics and efficiency.


    It all made sense. This relentless pursuit of efficiency was the cornerstone of this otherworldly civilization and it was what drove their innovations, their architecture, and their transportation networks. It explained the bustling streets, the crowded sidewalks, and the constant flow of traffic. It was all a dance choreographed by the unyielding tick of the clock, each second accounted for, each moment optimized.


    As the train finally cleared the crossing and the barrier lifted, the pent-up stream of vehicles rolled into action and continued their journey. Yzael sat back in her seat, once again retreating into her mind. She pondered over this newfound understanding of Humans and how it contrasted so sharply with the more leisurely pace of life in her own world.


    In her realm, time was a vast and unending canvas upon which the events of the world gently unfolded. But here, time was a precious resource, mined and spent with a fervor that far exceeded any other physical treasure.


    She couldn¡¯t help but wonder why the humans of her realm weren¡¯t the same¡­ But the more she thought, the more she started drawing parallels.


    In her world, humans were often suppressed, their potential stifled under the weight of more dominant cultures. They either integrated into societies where they had little room to grow or were unable to sustain their communities long enough to make a lasting impact. Yet, there was one area where these humans did excel ¨C magic. Human mages, while not as skilled or powerful as the High Elves or even the middling Sun Elves, did possess an extraordinary creative spark.


    They were more keen on deviating from the norm and exploring the unbeaten path. This led to the development of entirely new classifications of magic as they developed novel spells to solve novel problems, showing a level of inventiveness that often surprised even High Elves. However, their short lives meant they rarely had the chance to refine and in most cases capitalize these innovations into something groundbreaking.


    In contrast, this world was just full of... humans. Without the overarching influence of longer-lived races, they were left to forge their own path and adapt or die in the process. This need for constant adaptation fostered a dynamic, ever-changing, and frankly, chaotic society in Yzael''s eyes.


    The history books she had glanced at told a tale of unceasing turmoil and change. Wars, revolutions, and discoveries all occurred at a dizzying pace to someone who had lived for over a millennium. Each page was one horror leading to the next in humanity''s relentless drive to overcome, advance, and conquer not just new lands, but new ideas.


    But as fascinating as it was, the instability appalled her. The fact that chaos and constant change were the very engines driving this world''s progress left Yzael sick to her stomach. Without a steady and consistent society, the humans here had been forced into a cycle of perpetual innovation and adaptation.


    And she couldn¡¯t help but think this was exactly what her stagnant world needed.


    Yzael''s contemplative gaze shifted as the car stopped and her driver''s voice rang out. ¡°We¡¯re here ma¡¯am.¡± The man said, startling the poor Elf.


    Several other vehicles pulled up alongside hers, with well-built men in sharp suits emerging and fanning out with practiced efficiency. Her ears twitched as she watched one of the men approach and open the car door for her. Recognizing them as her assigned guards, Yzael gingerly stepped out of the vehicle, taking in her surroundings with keen interest.


    She found herself in a sprawling concrete structure, a parking garage full of a variety of vehicles. But a little further away, Yzael could see a group of white-coated men and women who seemed absolutely ecstatic to see her.


    ¡°Are they THAT excited to learn introductory spells¡­?¡± Yzael questioned as she scratched behind her ears

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 49

    ¡°You sure we¡¯re gonna find a village this way?¡± Elijah questioned as he tried to make heads or tails of a poorly hand-drawn map he had in his hands. The man rotated the strange animal skin parchment in his hands as his gaze alternated between it and Azeline in search of confirmation.


    In response, Azeline rolled her eyes in exasperation before impatiently snatching the map from his hands. ¡°What are you, stupid!?¡± She barked while squinting at it critically, turning it around in her hands. ¡°Who holds a map upside down? Gods¡­¡± She chided


    Coleman was hanging lazily in the gunner''s turret when his foot kicked Bennett¡¯s shoulder. ¡°This is why we don¡¯t give these two dipshits -


    ¡°Hey, fuck you.¡± Bennett¡¯s voice echoed in the background.


    ¡°- maps.¡± The team leader finished as he chomped down on another piece of beef jerky.


    Azelines narrowed her eyes at Bennett before letting out a sigh. ¡°Noted¡­¡± She replied while flipping the map around and presenting it to Elijah. ¡°See this small river?¡± She traced her finger along a winding line on the map. ¡°That¡¯s where we are. How are you roaming around this place without knowing anything about the river system? That¡¯s literally the only landmark here that¡¯s not trees or fields!¡±


    Still staring at the map, Elijah scratched his head in confusion "I''m not seeing it, champ. It''s just lines," he complained, throwing his hands up in defeat. ¡°Just squiggly lines and blobs of bullshit.¡± Every part of the map seemed to refuse to coalesce into any meaningful form.


    ¡°I mean, what the shit is this supposed to be?¡± The medic then pointed to a particularly crudely drawn section of the map, where the lines seemed to meander aimlessly. "Is that a hill or a pit? A town, maybe? Or is that just a grease stain?"


    A desirive laugh left Azeline¡¯s mouth as she felt her patience leave her body. She facepalmed hard and dragged her hand down, pulling at her face. They had been having this back-and-forth for over an hour now and Every time Elijah looked at her map, he bombarded her with questions as if she had personally drawn the damn thing and been to every landmark.


    ¡°In the name of everything good and holy¡­ How in the gods am I supposed to know!?" Azeline shot back, clutching at the air and flexing in frustration. "Maps aren''t some all-knowing oracle! They give you a rough idea, and you figure the rest out!¡±


    Elijah''s hands went to his head and expanded outward like an explosion as his eyes fluttered. It was almost as if her words had inflicted actual mental damage on him. "What does that even mean!?!?" he retorted incredulously. "What''s the point of a map that isn''t accurate!?"


    In a dramatic display of exasperation, Elijah got out of the GMV and started gesticulating wildly at Azeline. "Oh hey, Ben! According to our fantastic map here, the village we''re looking for is¡­.. Maybe, in this general direction!" he announced in a mockingly high-pitched voice while stomping off with an exaggerated, silly walk.


    A fit of giggling resounded beside the vehicle, causing its inhabitants to snap their heads to the side and see Yana hovering next to them. She perfectly mimicked Elijah¡¯s every movement, even down to the goofy facial expression.


    Azeline¡¯s face contorted with anger as her hostile look snapped between the fairy and Elijah¡¯s mocking display. "If I weren''t so crippled right now, I''d send my boot so far up your ass you¡¯d be spitting out leather and dirt!" she snarled while her hands clenched tightly into fists.


    ¡°Jesus preserve me, they¡¯re the same goddamn person¡­¡± Coleman muttered under his breath as his hand went to his face and cringed. ¡°Eli, can you stop being an asshole for 5 seconds?¡± He said, pushing in his eyeball to banish the headache forming ¡°Just¡­ Just 5 seconds, that''s all I want!¡±


    A flicker of annoyance flashed across Elijah¡¯s face as he sighed and started walking back to the GMV. Bennett and Yana, meanwhile, couldn''t contain their laughter and continued to cackle at the spectacle.


    Coleman had enough of the antics, and decided now was a good time to step in to assert control over the situation. "We''re going to listen to the local," he declared firmly, gesturing towards Azeline. "She knows this land and knows what she''s doing."


    Not one to back down easily, Elijah opened his mouth to retort. "But the map looks like it was made by an illiterate drunken child!" he started but was soon cut off by Coleman''s stern voice.


    "Ah! Ah ah! Shut up! No! Bad!" Coleman scolded, pointing at him with a mix of authority and exasperation. "Bad Eli! We''re going to listen to the local, and that''s that! No more bitching, no more moaning, no more bullshit! Now get the fuck in the car!"


    A growl left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he glared at Coleman. However, he ultimately relented and made his way back while a slew of curses left his mouth. ¡°What am I a dog¡­?¡± He grumbled to himself as he stomped his way over


    Azeline on the other hand, had a smug grin on her face. Even though she couldn¡¯t understand a word of that exchange, she sensed the tide had turned in her favor. As Elijah begrudgingly climbed into the passenger seat of the GMV, Azeline couldn''t resist the opportunity to get the last word in. "Dickwipe."


    ¡°Shitbag.¡± Elijah¡¯s retort was instant and sharp.


    "Enough!" Coleman''s voice cut them both off before another round of insults began. "Let¡¯s just focus on getting to this other damn village!" He barked, looking down at the two. ¡°Eli, get on the horn with the convoy and get a goddamn sitrep! Christ on a stick you two are insufferable!¡±


    The interior of the GMV fell into a heavy silence, the only sound being the rumble of the engine and the crunch of tires on the rough terrain. Elijah, still simmering with frustration, shifted in his seat and snatched the radio while Azeline continued to smile at him conceitedly.


    ¡°Baron 2, this is Baron 1. How you nerds holdin¡¯ up?¡± Elijah said nonchalantly as he let go of the push to talk.


    Bennett, in the driver seat of the GMV while peering off into the distance with binoculars, couldn''t help but chuckle after such a solid example of NATO radio protocol. "Elegant as ever," he said dryly.


    In an attempt to maintain his cool, Coleman simply shook his head and sighed as he rotated the turret around.


    After a few moments of silence, a reply came through, "Baron 2, copy. Convoy is moving along without incident. Villagers are... well, they''re villagers. A bit of grumbling about the pace and the dust, but nothing out of the ordinary. I think." The voice from Baron 2 reported with a hint of weariness in their tone. "Any chance we can swap out? Over."


    ¡°No, Baron 1 out,¡± Elijah replied immediately and ceased communications.


    He then turned to Coleman, giving a brief, concise report. "They''re fine," Elijah said, his voice carrying a note of finality.


    As Coleman listened to Elijah''s report, his expression remained stoic, but internally, he grappled with the challenge of handling his subordinate. Elijah¡¯s usual petulant and unpredictable nature often made it very difficult to maintain any semblance of discipline or order within the team. And Coleman knew that when Elijah became obstinate, no amount of reasoning or reprimand would bring him back in line. The best approach, he had learned over time, was to not react in a way that might encourage the medic¡¯s more¡­ exhausting tendencies and to divert his attention somewhere else.


    But it wouldn¡¯t take long for something or someone to throw a wrench into that plan. Coming out of nowhere, Yana suddenly zipped in front of Azeline and pointed an accusing finger at the Elf. "Hey! You shouldn''t talk to my human like that!" she exclaimed in an angry voice. "You''re lucky he told me to be nice to you, or I''d set your stupid pointy ears on fire!"


    Azeline recoiled away from Yana''s sudden appearance and threat, and for a moment, she felt a pang of fear. However, this quickly morphed into confusion. She couldn''t help but notice that Yana''s ears were equally as pointed as her own. But before Azeline could react further, Coleman interjected once again by letting out a loud and exasperated groan.


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    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake! ELI!¡± The team leader barked and looked down at his medic who seemed confused and annoyed as to why HE was being yelled at. ¡°Eli get in the goddamn turret and take your fairy with you!" Coleman barked harshly as he crouched down out of the position in a huff. "Jesus Christ! Cats! It''s like herding cats!"


    Elijah gave Coleman the side eye as he lifted himself up and maneuvered to climb up to the .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the GMV. "This is bullshit," the medic grumbled as he hauled himself up after snatching Yana out of the air as she continued to harass Azeline.


    ¡°I¡¯m a goddess ya know! I¡¯ll turn you into a frog, ya know! I¡¯ll- GWAK!¡± The fairy yelped in response and started to struggle.


    But as quickly as she was scooped out of the air, Yana found herself dumped on top of the cupola rolling around. She flailed for a moment, before shakily standing up and pointing an indignant finger at Elijah.


    "Hey! You can''t do that to me! You''re my apostle!" Yana protested as she stood on her new perch. ¡°You''re supposed to be nice to me!¡±


    Ignoring the tiny being, Elijah scowled as he popped open the feed tray of the heavy machine gun and began to check the belt of ammunition, ensuring it was properly seated and ready for action. Once done, he slapped down the feed tray and yanked back on the charging handle with a satisfying ''chick-chack'' sound.


    Meanwhile, Yana took off from her perch and landed on top of the weapon with her hands on her hips, her tiny wings fluttering in agitation. "Hey! Hey, listen to me, you stinky ugly face!" she barked at Elijah as she stomped her tiny foot, emphasizing each word, "I¡¯m your goddess! You should be nice to your goddess!¡±


    Snapping his eyes to the fairy, Elijah¡¯s mouth opened as if to unleash a barrage of insults, but the words filtered as he instead just started flapping his lips as his words seemed to fail him. And in that moment of exasperation, the man began ruffling his hair while Yana glared at him petulantly.


    ¡°FINE!¡± Elijah yelled as he ducked under the cupola and rifled his bags.


    A few choice words were said as Elijah rummaged through the contents of his assault pack until he finally found what he was looking for¨C a small strip of beef jerky with red flakes on it. Climbing back into the turret, Elijah shoved the treat towards the still scowling Yana as she glared in reprimand with her hands on her hips.


    Initially, the small goddess looked as if she was about to retort with another sharp remark on how dare he try to win her over with such insignificant tribute, but one small sniff put an end to that. ¡°Yay!¡± Yana exclaimed, quickly grabbing the jerky from Elijah¡¯s hands before buzzing away to the back of the vehicle.


    ¡°Goddamn¡­¡± Elijah sighed in resignation as he watched the menace fly off. ¡°Gimme a break, man¡­¡±


    With everyone settling down, a quiet took hold as they each found their rhythm. Coleman pulled himself halfway out of the GMV and balanced himself on the edge of the doorway as he peered over the back of the vehicle. His eyes scanned the terrain behind them, noting the progress of the rest of the team and the caravans they were escorting. The sight of several wagons and carriages, filled with villagers and their meager belongings, slowly cresting over a distant hill signified it was time to get a move on.


    Coleman''s gaze lingered for a moment, ensuring that everything was in place and there were no signs of distress or disorder. Satisfied with what he saw, the team leader then pulled himself back into the vehicle and gave Bennett a firm slap on the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s get outta here,¡± he ordered quietly, gesturing towards the empty dirt road.


    The GMV''s engine roared to life as Bennett took the wheel and moved in the direction that had plotted out earlier. According to Azeline, they were getting quite close to a sister village to the one they had just saved. And with how the forces of this land were conducting themselves, one could only hope they didn¡¯t suffer the same fate.


    Regardless, the team would have to take whatever was going to happen in stride, one step at a time. So acting as the lead scouts for the main body of their team Coleman and his element drove forward to clear the way and ensure that the path ahead was free and clear.


    Time seemed to fly by as they journeyed on towards, what they assumed, was the north west. The terrain subtly started to change from the vast unending forests and into a valley as the sun began its slow descent in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of gold and orange. The daylight waned, and by the time the sun had finally sat comfortably on the horizon, did the team crested a hill that overlooked a breathtaking sight.


    Before them lay a massive river, snaking through the valley in a majestic, serpentine fashion. Its waters reflected the colors of the sunset, shimmering with streaks of gold and crimson. Alongside the river, a rather sizable village nestled comfortably, its structures harmoniously blended with the natural surroundings.


    Surrounded by a wooden palisade covered in flowery vines, the village appeared to be a bustling center of life and activity, even from their distant vantage point. Thatched and tiled roofs of varying shapes and sizes dotted the landscape, interspersed with patches of cultivated land. Plumes of smoke rose from several hearths, suggesting the preparation of evening meals.


    The scene was reminiscent of a painting that displayed the natural beauty and a settlement coexisting in harmony, but there was something off.


    Coleman brought his binoculars to his face and narrowed his brow when he noticed an unusual and tense confrontation unfolding at the gate. A small contingent of men clad in armor, eerily similar to those that had attacked the previous village, were engaged in what he could only assume was a one sided verbal confrontation with the inhabitants of the settlement. The armed men gestured aggressively, their body language indicating a heated exchange, while the villagers, though clearly outnumbering the intruders, seemed hesitant and defensive.


    "We''ve got a problem," Coleman stated in a monotone voice as the rest of his element did their best observed the scene through their weapons small optics. ¡°Eli, can you get eyes on ¡®em?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Elijah, who was still stationed in the turret, replied as he turned around in an almost letheragically upon hearing Coleman''s words. Reaching over the rear of the GMV, the medic grabbed a rather long case made of sturdy cloth before unzipping it and pulling out a MK22 Advanced Sniper Rifle.


    Without even deploying  the rifle''s bipod, he carefully rested the high-powered rifle ontop of another piece of secured luggage, creating a makeshift yet stable platform. Popping off the protective caps, Elijah set the optics magnification to max peered through it to see one of the soldiers take several baskets before slapping some poor woman.


    ¡°Hrmmm¡­.¡± Elijah murmured as he watched the scene through the sniper rifle''s scope. His eyes narrowed as he observed one of the armored soldiers harshly slap a woman to the ground, then roughly grab her arm and drag her along with him. The rest of the villagers reacted with anger and moved aggressively towards the soldiers.


    The tension escalated quickly, and the soldiers unsheathed their weapons in response to the villagers'' advance. However, before the situation could erupt into violence, another villager intervened. This man, evidently a person of some authority or respect among the villagers, flailed his arms wildly, facing his own people as if to stop them from attacking.


    As the scene unfolded, Elijah tapped his finger on the side of the rifle and continuously clicked his tongue. "Well, that''s not good," the man commented dryly eliciting a few raised eyebrows from his team. ¡°Looks like extortion to me. Food, money and women.¡±


    A sigh left Coleman¡¯s mouth as his finger drummed against his binoculars. ¡°You think they¡¯re apart of that group we just ambushed?¡± Coleman asked, still focused on the unfolding drama. "Can you get a head count?"


    Elijah took a deep breath as he counted the figures moving around in the village quietly. "Ehh¡­. I''d say about ten or fifteen, give or take," he finally said as his fingers spun the optic¡¯s magnification back and forth.


    He then paused momentarily while fixating on something through the scope. "But, I think they got something big," Elijah added, a hint of seriousness in his voice. "Ehhhh¡­. Ahhh¡­. I can¡¯t really make it out, though. It¡¯s just sitting behind some trees."


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Coleman muttered as he put down his binoculars and began to rub his head.


    There could have been anything in those tree lines, and with limited flexibility and no support,  Coleman knew he had to tread carefully, and any wrong call could get him or his team killed. They couldn¡¯t risk just waltzing in the place or even taking a potshot without at least getting an idea of what they¡¯re dealing with.


    Turning towards Azeline, Coleman gave the Elf a hard and inquisitive look. "Any idea what these imperials might have?" Hey asked, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember the words in this strange tongue. "Anything big and dangerous?"


    Azeline lifted an eyebrow and scratched her head in thought. Her memory returned to the informant she paid off and how he explained that only the Empire''s impoverished goons bothered to be out this deep. "You''re going to have to be more descriptive than that," she replied as she leaned back in her chair. ¡°These guys are most likely more Auxiliaries like the ones we fought outside the previous village, so it could be a smaller wyvern, a salamander, or whatever feeble beast the Empire might have burdened those poor saps with as a support element."


    Coleman shot his head up towards Elijah, who was still peering through the scope of his rifle. "Eli, can you give us anything else on the thing? Anything specific?" he asked, hoping for a clearer picture.


    For a few moments, Elijah remained silent as he adjusted his position and watched the creature wiggle around in the thicket. "Could be anywhere from 10 to 15 feet long¡­ there are a few spikes... maybe claws, beige or an off-white bottom with blood red on top." Elijah reported in the local language as he squinted his eyes to discern more details. "It''s hard to make out, but it''s definitely trying to stay hidden behind those trees. Looks like it''s waiting for something, or maybe just watching."


    ¡°That¡¯s a Wyvern.¡± Azeline immediately spoke up. ¡°A small one at that.¡±

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 50

    When the sun finally descended over the horizon and darkness enveloped the landscape, the people of this land found themselves in a world transformed. Nighttime in the trees and hedgerows brought a profound darkness that seemed to swallow up someone completely.


    All it would take was to take a short walk away from the comforts of bonfires and torches of one''s camp and they would find themselves in an abyss of shadows, where the familiar became foreign. Every rustling leaf or snapping twig could be a lurking arcane horror or a harbinger of death.


    At least that was what the old wives¡¯ tales or bedtime stories mothers told their children when they ventured too far from their village at night. Sure unseen dangers were lurking in the thick blackness of night, but for seasoned soldiers of the Auxiliaries, the darkness was an old acquaintance. It was nothing more than a familiar adversary they had encountered and bested countless times.


    Plus they had a damned Wyvern.


    In the makeshift encampment nestled within a secluded grove, a rough-looking man with a face marred by scars surveyed his surroundings with a predatory gaze. His weathered features twisted into a snarl as he watched his men huddling around a roaring bonfire. The air was filled with the crackling of flames and the distant, muffled sound of weeping coming from a tent nearby.


    "Keep it down in there!" he barked harshly towards the tent, his voice rough and commanding. An equally rough and battle-worn man poked his head out from the tent and nodded. ¡°Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.¡± He replied meekly before ducking back in.


    The leader''s eyes then swept over the rest of his men, his expression darkening with contempt and possessiveness. "And you lot," he growled, "don''t you dare ruin her. I want another go when I get back." His words were laced with a menacing undertone, leaving no room for argument or disobedience.


    With a sharp snap of his fingers, he beckoned to two other men sitting by the fire. "Dasek, Hundre, yer with me. We¡¯re joinin¡¯ the others on patrol." His voice left no room for debate as he jerked his head towards the edge of the camp. ¡°And hurry the hells up or I¡¯ll feed ya to the Wyvern instead of that whore.¡±


    The two men quickly and nervously stood up and picked up their polearms. Exchanging a brief and awkward look before jogging over to their scout leader while he stood at the edge of the encampment with his arms crossed. Their leader was not a man to be trifled with. Short of temper and even shorter of understanding, his orders were always absolute. When out in the field away from the main body of their company, it was either his way, or you were fed to the Wyrven.


    ¡°And Sarief, want you on that damned beast lookin¡¯ for the company, first light!¡± The scout leader barked, pointing at a scout platoon''s Wyvern rider, a Sun Elven man that was rifling through baskets for something to chew on. ¡°They can¡¯t of wandered far. Gods damned idiots.¡±


    Sarief, paused his rummaging and took a bite of a piece of bread before giving the scout leader a nonchalant nod with a look of indifference. "Bram¡­," he drawled casually, "I ain''t seein'' the point. Saw some bodies of our boys and that useless fop near that village my girl torched when I last went out lookin''.¡±


    Bram¡¯s face contorted with anger at Sarief''s casual dismissal. Fueled by rage at the insubordination, he stomped forward, grabbed the collar of the Wyvern rider, and pulled him closer. "And I don''t give two shits of a demon," he growled menacingly, his face inches away from Sarief''s, "ye gonna git out there and find something TANGIBLE to report back."


    Even under this scout platoon''s leader''s intimidating glare, the Wyrven rider didn¡¯t flinch. He wasn¡¯t a part of this rag-tag group of fuck ups, he was a damned Wyvern rider. Plus his girl was watching with those steely eyes and if this brute of a man did anything, then they¡¯d all be torched. The tension between them was palpable, with the rest of the men around the fire watching silently, not daring to intervene or make a sound.


    ¡°Alright, fine.¡± Sarief finally relented putting up his hands, realizing that it just wasn¡¯t worth bothering getting into a pissing contest with such an insecure piece of shit. ¡°I¡¯ll get her nice and prepped. First light.¡±


    After a tense moment, Bram released Sarief with a shove, pushing him back towards the baskets. "Good," he snarled, "I¡¯ll let her eat the whore when ye, back."


    As the Wyrven rider straightened up and brushed off his tunic, he spun around and walked away without another word, leaving these knuckle draggers to their own devices. The scout leader, still seething with anger, then turned his attention to Dasek and Hundre. "Come on," he said gruffly, jerking his head towards the darkness of the night. Each of them grabbed a small magical torch from a pile near the fire and made their way into the darkness.


    Unlike the mundane fire lit torched doused in fat or oil, these emitted a steady light that never wavered or flickered. The torches were unique in their construction and operation. A stable ball of flame rotated continuously within a glass housing, creating an effect that was both mesmerizing and practical. The magic that powered them was a well-known method but was still only able to be produced by enchanters and artificers. The flames, though confined, cast a reassuring light that pushed back against the oppressive night and provided a small ward against those that lurked the night.


    The trio ventured deeper into the grove, their steps measured and cautious. Bram''s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he led two subordinates through the darkness. Despite the presence of another patrol of two men facing the village, he couldn''t shake the lingering unease of a lurking danger. That Wyrven rider¡¯s recent reports of a part of their company, along with their commander, being found dead in a field just a handful of miles away, weighed heavily on his mind.


    "This place," he muttered under his breath, "it''s cursed, I tell ya."


    Bram''s sudden statement caused the other two to freeze and snap their heads to him.


    ¡°First the forts and then the company¡­¡± The gruff man continued as they approached the wide-open plain that overlooked the road leading to the village. ¡°Ain¡¯t sure what it is, but somethin¡¯ ain''t right. I''ve got a gut feeling,  ya hear? And it be screamin¡¯ at me."


    Hundre, the younger of the two, adjusted his grip on his polearm, his eyes scanning the treeline. "You think we should just pack up camp and git?" he suggested, his voice tinged with concern.


    "No," the scout leader replied firmly. "Then that pussy Wyrven Rider would have a legitimate reason to cut us loose and fuck off. I ain¡¯t gonna give our only means of scarin¡¯ off Grovemaws away."


    Dasek, running a hand along his beard, looked towards the distant road that stretched up the hill while his face reflected the firelight from their torches. "Speaking of Grovemaws," he said, his tone tinged with curiosity and apprehension. "You think they might''ve done the company commander in? We did a lot of killing back at the village... and they''re attracted to the blood, right?"


    Stopping in his tracks, Bram rubbed his head as tried to ward away the set of anxiety that was starting to build up. "It''s possible," he admitted grudgingly. "Those damned monsters be everywhere lately¡­"


    Bram''s eyes lingered on the distant hill that led southeast, where a narrow and crude dirt road crested over it. He knew that just a five-mile trek along that road would bring him to the remnants of the village they had helped destroy. The memory of the burning shoddy buildings and the screams of peasants as he killed ¡®em replayed in his memory.


    On that fat lard of a general''s prerogative, the company commander instructed him to seek out any villages in the area and coerce the inhabitants to pack their belongings and move north. If they refused, those villages would be marked for destruction. It was a cruel order, one that left no good options for the peasant farmers who called these lands home and Bram knew all too well that compliance with the order meant a death sentence for ¡®em. They¡¯d be easy prey for the wilderness or worse, bandits. Yet defiance meant certain destruction at the hands of his and his own.


    There wasn¡¯t much pity or the lick in Bram''s mind. As a matter of fact, he kinda enjoyed running those ''soft dirt plowers'' through. It was too bad they got caught in a game much larger than themselves, but such is life. There was a part of him that took a twisted pleasure in this new assignment, enjoying the power and fear it gave him over these simple folk as he took not just their lives, but their dignity.


    However, as he stared into the darkness, something else tugged at the back of his mind. There was something out there. He just knew it. Whatever it was, was watching, waiting and lurking in the dark like a demon.


    ¡°I hope Egon don¡¯t break this one like that last peasant girl.¡± Dasek sudden spoke up, sitting down on an overturned log. ¡°I¡¯d like to get one more crack at her before he off¡¯s ¡®em.¡±


    Hundre''s cackling laughter filled the air, resonating through the trees. ¡°Aye me too, mate. I¡¯m plow through her again like that one tavern whore back in Roakglen!¡±


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    Bram clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You damn idjit are loud as all hell," Bram growled, his tone laced with irritation. "I''m tryin¡¯ ta think." He turned and walked away.


    His two crass subordinates cackled and continued their conversation while their irked leader pushed through the brush to the edge of the tree line. Bram¡¯s gaze was still fixed on the crest of the hill as he came to stop at the edge of the treeline.


    "You know," Hundre¡¯s loud voice carried through the forest, "I heard from Tarn up north that there''s a village with a seer. Claims she can see the future."


    Dasek snorted, "A seer, eh? Bet she didn''t see us coming. Doesn¡¯t matter if they be old or young, Egon like¡¯s em all. Would be fun to see what sort of future she predicts while that bastards on her belly."


    The two men shared a cruel laugh, while the anxiety poked away at Bram as the conversation behind him faded away. Bram remained at the edge of the treeline, lost in thought while the oppressive silence enveloped the grove. The absence of vile banter that usually filled the air suddenly felt unnerving, and a subtle sense of dread began to gnaw at Bram.


    After a few moments, Bram furrowed his eyebrows, puzzled by the sudden quiet. Something felt off. The usual sounds of the night, the distant hoot of an owl or the rustling of small creatures in the underbrush, were conspicuously absent. He turned around, intending to check on what Hundre and Dasek were doing, perhaps to berate them for their lack of discipline or to ensure they hadn''t wandered off.


    As he approached the log where he had left them, Bram''s steps slowed, a cold realization settling over him. The spot where Hundre and Dasek had been sitting was now eerily vacant. Their weapons and magical torches were leaned casually against the wooden log, as if they had just stepped away for a moment. But there was no sign of the men themselves.


    ¡°Dasek! Hundre!¡± Bram called out, grabbing onto his flangled mace that was sheathed at his side.


    The scout leader scanned the surrounding foilage, waving his magical torch around while his eyes darting through the darkness, searching for any hint of movement. The silence of the grove now felt like a heavy weight, pressing down on him with an ominous foreboding feeling as he took one step after another.


    Bram¡¯s mind raced with the possibilities of what could have happened, he for a moment thought they may have gone to relieve themselves. But for both of them to do it at the same time and to do it quietly was highly unlikely. Desertion was his next immediate thought, but that was equally absurd, you¡¯d wait for a more opportune time.


    ¡°Gods damnit you stupid fucks! Where in the hell ya gone!?¡± Bram bellowed as he pulled out his weapon. ¡°Ye keep fuckin¡¯ with me and I¡¯ll¨C¡±


    Suddenly a rustling in the brush caused Bram to abruptly silence himself. He snapped his head towards the source of the noise, instinctively shifting his body to face the potential threat. His hand tightened around the grip of his flanged mace, and his other hand steadied the magical torch, casting eerie shadows amongst the trees.


    The comment¡¯s Dasek made about Grovemaws came to Bram¡¯s mind as his body started to shake with fear.The mere thought of facing an apex predator like a Grovemaw, a monstrous, carnivorous beasts set Bram''s heart racing. But if one of those horrid creatures had indeed taken his men, there would have been much more screaming. The silence suggested something else.


    "Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice a mix of bravado and underlying fear. But the forest remained silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the gentle night breeze.


    Bram pointed his torch towards another pair of rustling bushes, trying to pierce the darkness with its flickering light. His breaths came out in ragged gasps as he muttered under his breath, "Ain''t no beast gonna eat me." His grip on the mace tightened, ready to swing at the slightest provocation. ¡°I ain¡¯t no treat- MMMM!¡±


    Before he could finish his sentence, Bram felt a hand violently clamp over his mouth before jerking his head back sharply. Panic surged through him as he felt the cold, unmistakable sensation of a blade sliding smoothly into the side of his throat. His eyes widened in shock as he attempted to scream and resist, but the man''s grip was too tight and only gurgles came out.


    Then, close to his ear, he heard a whisper in a somewhat jovial voice, tinged with dark humor. "You''d probably taste bad, anyways." The words were chilling, spoken with a familiarity that belied the violent act, and a moment later, the blade was punched forward, ripping open Bram¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Shhhh. Shh, shh shh¡­ it¡¯s okay¡­ it¡¯s okay.¡± Elijah cooed as he felt the struggle of the sentry in his arms slowly come to an end.


    ¡°This is Baron 1-2, all southern sentries neutralized.¡± He spoke quietly into his headset while his suppressed rifle hung low at his side. He gently lowered the body to the forest floor, ensuring it made no sound that could alert the others in the encampment.


    As he adjusted his position, the radio crackled softly in his ear. "This is Baron Actual," Coleman¡¯s voice acting as the orchestrator of the raid came the voice over the net. "Northern and southern sentries neutralized. You''re green to go."


    Elijah nodded to himself, even though no one could see it in the darkness of the night. He raised his weapon, an extension of his will, and started to stalker forward toward the enemy encampment. The shadows of the forest seemed to embrace him, masking his presence as he moved with a predator''s grace.


    As he moved forwards, moments later, he was joined by several other operators, emerging from the shadows like specters. They moved in unison, like a silent ghostly horror converging on their prey.


    Through the phosphorus white glow of their night optical devices, they communicated with hand signals, each member aware of their role in the impending raid. They then fanned out, taking positions that would allow them to cover each other and provide multiple angles of attack. The encampment itself seemed unaware of the danger lurking just beyond the reach of their fires. However, they did seem startled as they looked around uneasily.


    ¡°This is Baron 2 actual, we don¡¯t have a shot on this Wyvern. Continuing with contingency, count down for execution.¡± A voice crackled in Elijah¡¯s ear as everyone shifted the game plan on the fly.


    "Copy that, Baron 2 Actual," Coleman responded softly over the net, his voice barely more than a whisper. "All elements, stand by. On my mark," he paused, allowing his men to mentally prepare themselves


    "Three...¡±


    ¡±Two¡­¡±


    ¡°One¡­¡±


    ¡°Execute."


    In perfect synchronization, the team sprang into action. Elijah and the other operators squeezed the triggers on their weapons, dropping their designated targets with lethal precision. Bodies immediately crumpled to the floor as the suppressed shots echoed harshly through the night.


    The operators exploded out of their positions, moving forward from different locations as the assault took the shape of an L. This raid was strategically designed to avoid any possibility of crossfire among the team members as they swept through the camp with deadly efficiency. As they approached the enemies, each operator made sure to put one more round into the skulls and bodies of fallen, ensuring the complete demise of their targets.


    Once a hive of activity, the camp was now eerily silent, save for the muffled sounds of their footsteps and the faint sound of screaming and weeping from one of them. The operators moved cautiously, throwing open flaps, and ending anyone that lingered within.


    Suddenly, two deafening blasts erupted in the distance, followed by a blood-curdling screech of a beast. Another team engaged the Wyvern, adding an unpredictable element to the night''s operations. The sound and shockwave reverberated through the forest, causing a naked man to burst out of one of the tents suddenly.


    His eyes went wide with terror as he came to an abrupt stop when the bodies of his comrades littered the ground and he found himself surrounded by ghostly men. To him, they looked like faceless monsters, here to claim his immortal soul.


    "Put your goddamn hands in the air, or I¡¯ll drill a hole in your head!!" Elijah yelled, and his tone tolerated no argument. ¡°You fuckin¡¯ move I¡¯ll kill you like your friends!¡±


    The naked man didn''t hesitate. Dignity be damned, his hands shot straight up, his body trembling with fear and the cold night air.


    As Elijah and his team their new prisoner and the tent behind him another drama was unfolding on the other side of the encampment. The radio crackled to life again, breaking through the tense silence of the night as an urgent voice came over the net. "It''s airborne! Plus one rider! Knock it out of the sky!"


    Elijah''s head snapped up, his eyes searching the dark sky until the infrared outline of the Wyvern¡¯s silhouette filled his vision. Now airborne with its rider, the beast sought to make its escape.


    Meanwhile, at the crest of a nearby hilltop, Coleman and Bennett stood by their Ground Mobility Vehicles (GMVs), each shouldering a FIM-92 Stinger missile launcher. The Stinger, a man-portable air-defense system (MANPADS), was specifically designed for situations like this ¨C to bring down aerial targets anywhere near the ground.


    As the Wyvern, beat its powerful wings to gain altitude, Coleman and Bennett took aim, but Coleman''s launcher hummed and vibrated first.


    With his MANPAD locked on, Coleman squeezed the trigger, causing the first stage to violently eject the missile from the tube before its main motor ignited. The missile arched through the air, rapidly catching up with the fleeing aerial beast.


    Within moments, the Stinger''s proximity fuse detected the Wyvern''s massive form. A bright orange flash detonated right under the beast¡¯s wing, briefly illuminating the night sky and causing the explosion to echo across the landscape. The Wyvern let out an anguished roar as it struggled to maintain its flight.


    But almost simultaneously, Bennett''s missile locked onto its target as the second missile chased after the wounded Wyvern with unnatural precision. Miraculously the missile struck the same wing, detonating on impact. A second explosion lit up the night, followed by the creature''s blood-curdling scream.


    Through their night vision goggles, Coleman and Bennett watched the grisly aftermath. The Wyvern''s wing bent in unnatural ways, the membrane that allowed its flight disintegrating under the force of the explosion. The once-mighty beast flailed in the air, its screams piercing the night as it plummeted towards the ground.


    The operators stood in silence, watching as the Wyvern''s descent ended with a sinking thud and the screeching coming to a sudden and abrupt halt.


    Soon a haunting quiet enveloped the area until the radio crackled to life ¡°This is Baron 1-2, camp has been secured. One hostage plus one POW in custody.¡±

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 51

    As dawn broke, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the special forces team, along with a few representatives from the decimated hamlet and the abducted peasant girl, cautiously approached the neighboring village. They had decided to wait until morning to approach, aiming to reduce the likelihood of causing panic among the villagers and treat the poor girl who endured a night of horror. The ruckus they had caused the previous night was bound to have put everyone on edge, and Coleman knew handling this situation with care was critical.


    Their Ground Mobility Vehicles (GMVs) slowly rolled forward as the sound of the engines muffled under the barking of orders from the village gate. The peasants were alarmed and were sent into a flurry of activity as armed themselves with whatever tools they could find.


    Coleman signaled for the convoy to stop a safe distance away as he looked up at Eliijah who was in the turret again. ¡°You sure this is a good idea?¡± The team leader asked.


    Elijah shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and replied, "I dunno, I guess we''re gonna find out." He said while aiming the massive weapon toward the village walls, where a few men were positioned with what looked like crossbows.


    At that moment, Azeline chimed in with her usual blunt candor. "Just waltz in, show ''em who''s boss, and state you aren''t here to hurt them. If any idiot tries anything, use your magic boom boom sticks to cut down a few and they''ll get the idea."


    Confusion and disturbance clouded Coleman''s features as he turned his head and stared at the elf. "Ya, we''re not gonna do that," he said firmly, dismissing her suggestion outright. The last thing they wanted to do was cut down a bunch of pitchfork-wielding peasants just to prove a point.


    But as he continued to work his mind for a solution to handling this situation, Coleman''s gaze floated to the peasant girl they had rescued. She was being comforted by the survivors of the previous village attack. "You think we should let them lead the way?" He asked, turning back to Elijah and wondering if a familiar face might be a little less threatening.


    Scratching his head, Elijah thought about the question momentarily as his pocket squirmed restlessly. "Eehhhh... probably," he finally responded. "They''d be less likely to attack a bunch of women, especially if they recognized their own in the mix."


    Coleman clamped his hands together after making up his mind. "Alright, we''ll let the girls go first. You and I are gonna go with ''em," he decided, climbing out of the vehicle.


    Elijah furrowed his brows in disbelief, shaking his head. "Woah, woah, woah, wait. What? You want us to go with ''em?" he exclaimed, holding up a hand and letting out a faux laugh while crouching down out of the turret. "Let''s think about this for a moment," he said, his tone serious.


    "We''re an unknown element to these people. They''ve just seen one of their own dragged away by a bunch of dickheads, and suddenly a new set of dickhead show up in these strange, beastless carriages, saying ¡®hey guys, let us in! We¡¯re nice I swear!¡¯ after smoking a Wyrven." he gestured to the empty field with a Wyrven corpse in it. "Do you know how fucking INSANE that sounds? They might just try to string us up or some shit!¡±


    A scoff left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he rolled his eyes and started adjusting his gear. "Quit your yappin¡¯ and come on," he retorted sharply, motioning for Elijah to come down from the turret. "You¡¯re being a bitch."


    Visibly frustrated, Elijah brought a hand to his face and started rubbing it in disbelief and exasperation. "This is fucking insane," he muttered under his breath. Crawling out of the vehicle, he grabbed his rifle and barked at Coleman, "You''re fucking insane, you know that? I knew you were gonna get me killed!"


    From the driver''s seat, Bennett huffed in amusement. "That''s rich, coming from you," he commented while he crawled to the turret to man it.


    Ignoring the protesting medic, Coleman turned to Azeline. "You good to walk? Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow.


    Elijah interjected in alarm, "What!? No, she''s not good to walk! She fractured her hip less than three days ago¡ª" but he was cut off as Azeline, hissed in pain while pulling herself out of the vehicle and started walking forward, albeit with a slight limp.


    "What the fuck are you doing?!" Elijah basically screamed as his arms flailed. "You can''t be fucking walking yet! Do you have any idea how stupid this is? You''re going to worsen your injury, you could end up with a permanent limp, or worse!"


    Azeline waved her hand dismissively at Elijah''s concerns. "Ya ya, whatever, I''m fine," she insisted, ¡°It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t messed my hip up before.¡±


    In an effort to find some other voice of reason, Elijah looked to Bennett and then Coleman, but everyone just shrugged. "I saw her walking around yesterday. Didn''t seem too bad," Coleman said nonchalantly.


    With his frustration reaching a boiling point, Elijah brought both hands to his temples, mouthing the words "What the fuck" in utter disbelief. He then chomped towards Azeline with his dominant hand and firmly said, "NO! No, get back in the¡ª"


    But before he could finish his sentence, his pocket erupted in a burst of movement. A flash of fire and violet light bolted up to his head. A clearly agitated fairy squished his face together with her tiny hands as a snarl formed on her face.


    "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Yana scolded him, shaking his head around. "How can I sleep with you screaming like a damned banshee! I''ll turn you into one since you like yapping so much!"


    Observing the chaos unfolding around her, Azeline wore an expression of indifference and numbness. The proper reaction to such a scene might have been to recoil and run away in fear, but she had grown accustomed to the peculiar brand of insanity these humans brought with them. It seemed that every hour was filled with one absurdity after another, and the Elf had learned to just deal with it as any other event.


    Meanwhile, Coleman, seemingly unfazed by the commotion, walked around the Ground Mobility Vehicle (GMV) and hopped onto the back. He began rummaging through the equipment, eventually pulling out two compact ballistic shields. They weren¡¯t perfect and were custom-made to use your rifle while providing adequate cover for your torso, so they were a little bulky, but it was better than nothing.


    ¡°Why do you even need sleep!?¡± Elijah barked back, glaring at the Fairy. ¡°Aren''t you some immortal shitter that is above such ''mortal pleasures''?" he asked, his voice tinged with incredulity as he swiped at the fairy in a futile attempt to regain some personal space.


    Effortlessly evading his hand with her nimble flying, Yana hovered in front of Elijah''s face with both hands on her hips. "Because it feels nice!" she retorted with a defiant tone. "I don''t need a reason to do what I like!" Her response, brimming with the whimsical and carefree nature characteristic of fairies, left no room for argument.


    As Elijah struggled and bickered with Yana, Coleman walked over to the medic. He shoved one of the ballistic shields into his hands before grabbing the strap of Elijah''s plate carrier and dragging him along. "Come on, let''s go round up our peasants," he said, apparently completely unperturbed by the situation unfolding around them.


    Taken by surprise by Coleman''s sudden action, Elijah stumbled along, trying to avoid falling over while awkwardly juggling the bulky shield. ¡°Goddamnit!¡± The man yelled until he finally found his footing.


    A giggle left Yana''s mouth before she stuck her tongue out at Elijah. "You are the worst apostle ever!" She declared and flew off towards the vehicle, heading straight for his pack.


    Several choice swears left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he was unceremoniously dragged along by Coleman towards the group of women who had gathered a short distance away. The women were whispering amongst themselves with expressions filled with concern due to the earlier ruckus.


    Noticing their apprehensive glances, Coleman jabbed Elijah in the side and nodded towards the villagers, "Tell them everything is fine, we''re just¡­ spirited and lively, or some shit." He said, wanting to ease the villagers'' worries.


    Elijah''s eye twitched for a moment. He was not exactly thrilled with playing the role of an interpreter when Coleman could speak the language, albeit not as fluently. However, he ultimately relented and out a defeated sigh.


    "Hey, everything''s okay," Elijah said in a bored tone. "We''re just... lively..." he explained while shooting Coleman an accusatory and salty look.


    The women exchanged glances that contained equal parts skepticism and curiosity, but they seemed to relax after seeing the casual body language of the strange warriors. However, they still had reservations about these foreign men''s intentions. In their experience, few ever went out of their way to help someone without expecting something in return, and often such ''help'' ended with someone being sold into slavery or burdened with extraordinary debt.


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    Among the group, the girl who had been kidnapped by the Imperial Auxiliaries shifted nervously. Gathering her courage, she stepped forward while her eyes flitted between the ground, the two men, and the palisade in the background. "Um¡­ H-Hello¡­" she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for saving me..." She paused, looking back at the ground, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her torn garment.


    After a brief moment, she looked up again with a hint of trepidation. "I''m assuming you want compensation...?" Her voice trailed off, the question hanging in the air, reflecting her uncertainty and fear.


    The soldiers exchanged a knowing look. It wasn¡¯t often that a delicate situation provided a solution for itself. Still, they had to be delicate with this situation especially when it came to the apprehension of a girl who just went through something horrible.


    "We just want you to go talk to your people, so they don''t try to attack or anything." Coleman spoke carefully while scratching his head. ¡°Uhh.. we¡¯re from far away and we¡¯re just looking for directions or something.¡±


    The villager girl stared at Coleman as if he was growing an extra limb out of his head for a moment before looking back at the other women for confirmation. But she only received a mix of hesitant nods and shrugs, signaling their uncertainty and that they have been true to their word so far.


    Resisting the urge to click his tongue at Coleman''s less-than-stellar opening, Elijah seized the opportunity to foster a more personal connection. "By the way, I¡¯m Eli and this is Cole,¡± he introduced himself while giving the girl a pleasant smile. ¡°What''s your name?¡± he asked, his voice carrying a genuine curiosity.


    The girl hesitated for a moment before responding, "I¡¯m¡­ I''m Rysa."


    After handing Coleman his shield, a soft clap resounded as Elijah slowly walked towards her, ensuring his hands were visible and empty to show he meant no harm. "Well, Rysa, it''s really nice to meet you," he said, his tone charismatic and casual. "We could really use your help talking to your people. We don''t want any misunderstandings. We''re here to help, not cause more trouble.¡±


    Rysa¡¯s expression softened slightly at Elijah¡¯s more approachable demeanor. She still felt on edge and was still shaken, especially after what she just endured, but Rysa didn¡¯t feel any overt maliciousness. Trust was a luxury Rysa wasn''t sure she could afford, but she also recognized the reality of their situation. After witnessing the corpse of the Wyvern in the fields, she understood that resistance against these strangers would likely be futile.


    Not wanting to anger such powerful beings, Rysa bowed her head in deference and performed a crude and unsteady curtsy-like gesture. ¡°Y-yes, my lord.¡± she said as a sign of respect towards those she perceived as of higher class or importance. Anyone capable of slaying an Imperial Auxiliary and a great beast like a Wyvern must hold significant power or status and in her mind, this was a problem for someone else. Right now, all she wanted to do was go home and cry herself to sleep in her mother¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Right away, my lord.¡± Rysa then straightened up and lowered her head. "I¡¯ll speak with the village head and my father," she said, adjusting her torn clothing in an attempt to keep herself as modest as possible. "I-I believe they¡¯ll be more than willing to listen.¡±


    Coleman''s brow furrowed slightly when he heard Rysa address Elijah as ¡®my lord,¡¯ a term he somewhat frowned upon. However, it didn¡¯t matter how he felt about aristocratic systems and their titles, because Elijah quickly adapted to the circumstance and capitalized on this newfound perception.


    Lifting his head in a manner that bordered on arrogance but still maintained his friendly smile, Elijah underwent a noticeable shift in disposition. As he walked forward, he said in a light, reassuring tone, "Oh come on, there''s no need for that."


    As Elijah approached, he noticed a subtle but significant change in Rysa''s demeanor. The closer he got, the more she seemed to shrink in on herself as a visible tension gripped her frame. It was as if she harbored a deep-seated fear, and Elijah wondered if it was directly aimed at him for his role in the violence last night.


    However, Elijah quickly realized that fear seemed more omnipresent than anything else. More likely a result of what she endured at the hands of those animals. Her body language spoke volumes, her shoulders hunched, and her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, avoiding any direct eye contact.


    It was as if she was bracing herself for harm.


    Responding to the shift in her behavior, Elijah immediately slowed his advance and maintained a healthy distance to avoid overwhelming her. "You''ve been through a lot, and we¡¯d like to get you and your people to some semblance of safety." He said gently as he looked between her and the gaggle of women behind her who seemed equally hesitant


    ¡°Well¡­ I would be lying if I said we¡¯re doing this out of the goodness of our hearts.¡± Elijah said as he watched the women both tense and relax at the same time.


    He knew all too well that coming off as purely altruistic would raise more suspicion than it would alleviate. Selflessness was often viewed with skepticism in these parts, as people were more accustomed to the harsh give-and-take of survival. "To be honest, we''ve actually been hired to sniff out bandits or deserters and we just happened to stumble over one of those groups of bastards attacking villages." Elijah kept his words vague enough to obfuscate exactly who he worked for as he gestured toward the women behind Rysa. ¡°These women behind you had their entire village destroyed by those scumbags.¡±


    "But, to cut the chase¡­¡± Elijah said with a half smile that made Rysa feel as if she didn¡¯t have any room to refuse. ¡°We''re not particularly keen on spending the night outside," he added, gesturing to the village gate. "So, some food, water, and a roof over our heads would be plenty for us in repayment. And¡­ we¡¯d also like a little coin or some supplies.¡± Elijah winked at her. ¡°I believe that would be fair for our¡­ valiant services."


    Rysa was still somewhat guarded but she visibly softened under Elijah''s request for payment. She knew there was going to be a catch, but as luck would have it, the apparent powerful freelancers or lords in front of her were more materially motivated. "I... I''ll see what I can do," she replied, her voice still tinged with uncertainty. "Our village has been through a lot recently, but... but I think we can help each other."


    Elijah¡¯s smile widened slightly as a twinkle sparkled in his eye. ¡°Wonderful! Maybe you can lead the way and talk to your people for us?¡± He asked pointing at his shield. "Because I don¡¯t really think they¡¯re gonna respond very well to us."


    Nodding, Rysa shuffled forward as she lowered her head in deference towards Elijah and Coleman.


    On the other hand, Elijah watched the poor peasant girl scurry away before glancing back at Coleman with a cheeky smile. The team leader stood there, unable to decide whether he should praise or reprimand this manipulative fuck


    Heaving a sigh, Coleman settled on just nodding his head. They both knew the importance of this moment ¨C not just for their immediate needs but for building a semblance of trust in a community they could potentially operate out of.


    As they followed after the peasant girl, Elijah clapped Coleman on the arm with a bright, annoyingly cheerful voice, "Everything''s comin'' together!" His enthusiasm seemed almost infectious, if not for the context in which it was delivered. Coleman, however, found himself at a loss for words, torn between admiration for Elijah''s adept handling of the situation and disgust.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Coleman started but found himself unable to complete the thought. He remained silent for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his medic snickered incessantly. "You''re a... you''re a real piece of work, you know that?" Coleman finally let out before he started chuckling himself.


    ¡°Hahaha, Oh my god¡­¡± He continued, unable to hold back a laugh despite his earlier frustration. As they passed the GMV, Coleman gestured towards Azeline, who was still lingering near the vehicle, "Come on, let''s go get a face full of arrows and pitchforks." He half-joked as the elf woman grabbed her sword with her good arm and started limping along with the two.


    Ever the instigator, Elijah decided that the best way to add more credibility to their story was to muddle the plot into something indecipherable. Throwing his arm up, Elijah snapped his fingers, "Come on, Yana, let''s go!" He yelled out.


    Yana, who had been enjoying her moment in the sun atop the .50 caliber machine gun, abruptly sprang up with a snarl on her face. "Huh!?" she exclaimed, clearly irritated that her sunbathing session was interrupted. Looking around, she rolled her eyes dramatically in annoyance before she let out an exasperated "Ugh!"


    Then, with a flutter of her wings, she zipped off towards Elijah, though not without muttering a string of fairy curses under her breath about ¡®inconsiderate humans¡¯ and their ¡®incessant need for movement.¡¯


    Landing on Elijah''s head with the grace of a particularly irate hummingbird, Yana began to tug and pull at his hair, her tiny face scrunched up in frustration. "What!? What do you want!?" she demanded, her voice high-pitched and full of irritation as she grabbed onto his long, curly hair and started yanking.


    Ignoring the now routine bickering, Coleman turned his attention to Rysa in the distance. She had stopped just in front of the village gate and started speaking earnestly to the armed men outside. Even from a distance, Coleman could tell she was doing her best to smooth the way for their arrival.


    Turning to Azeline, who was silently observing the scene with a thoughtful expression, Coleman asked, "What should we expect if things go right?"


    With her gaze never leaving the villagers and the gate, Azeline pondered on the question for a few moments. "If the girl convinces them our intentions aren¡¯t to sack their village, they''ll likely let us in without much hassle.¡± She said in interest as she rubbed the splint attached to her arm. ¡°We''ll be watched closely, of course. So expect a lot of suspicion and a few foolish souls trying to test us," she finished as they watched a giant of a man run out of the gate and scoop Rysa in a massive hug.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Coleman responded as he started to process Azeline''s assessment. Nodding his head, the team leader¡¯s mind was already racing with contingency plans. "Okay... well, what if things go wrong?" he queried, a hint of concern lacing his voice as they noticed a flood of armed villagers flood out of the gates.


    Azeline shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she observed the sudden influx of people. "Then we either leave, kill them, or kill them and leave," she stated bluntly in a pragmatic and chilling tone.


    Coleman ran a hand through his hair as he groaned in exasperation. He momentarily pushed off his headset, allowing himself a brief pause to gather his thoughts before slipping them back on and pressing down on his push to talk. "Baron Actual to all elements, maintain support by fire positions. Baron 4, you are designated QRF. Be on standby for exfil if this goes sideways. Acknowledge over."


    One by one, the calls of affirmation came in followed by a litany of activity as the team coordinated their roles. And looking over at Azeline and Elijah, Coleman gave them a tired look. "Let''s try to keep this peaceful, alright? I don¡¯t want to waste a bunch of farmers with pitchforks.¡±


    Having finally managed to disentangle Yana from his hair, Elijah gave him a nonchalant shrug as they made their way to the mass of people waiting in the distance.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 52

    As the dawn broke and the sun began to paint the sky with its first light, the village of Twineward was already astir. The arrival of strangers at the gates, mounted in steel, beastless carriages, set a wave of murmurs and unease through the small community. The folk of Twineward were hardy, their lives carved from the unforgiving lands surrounding them, but the sight of such oddity just after being harassed by a group of Imperial Auxiliaries unnerved the already frazzled villagers¡­


    "Oi, Marley! Git ye eyes on that!" shouted Burt, a burly man with arms as thick as the logs he split, pointing towards the gates where a small gathering had begun to form. "What in the blazes are they ridin'' in?"


    Marley, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth, squinted towards the newcomers. "Dunno, but they ain''t from ''round here, that''s for sure. Best fetch the the head and his boy Afton, I reckon."


    The villagers clutched their spears and pitchforks as congregated near the gate with faces full of anxiety and fear. After a group of scoundrels from the Auxillaires took not only the supplies they needed for winter but also the blacksmith''s daughter for their own sick entertainment.


    More and more villagers with curiosity and concern etched deeply on their faces flooded to the gate. The word of the strangers with metal carriages spread like wildfire through Twineward. Amidst the growing crowd, the village head, Sofan, made his way to the front with his son, Afton, following closely behind.


    The man was a figure of resilience hardened by years of service to both the Seraphic Empire and the local lord. Sofan liked to consider himself a warrior of some merit, and he stood tall even in his older years. His hands gripped an all-metal partisan spear as its surface gleamed in the morning light. His eyes were sharp and discerning while he scanned the landscape, trying to spot more of these newcomers.


    His son, Afton, bore a striking resemblance to his father. His hands were steady as he notched a large arrow in his enchanted bow made of the antlers of an Ixtal, a massive druidic deer that had bark for skin and branches for antlers. The weapon was a family heirloom whispered to have been blessed by the spirits of the Druid''s Timber themselves. The morning light caught the bow''s intricate carvings, casting patterns that danced upon the stone walls of Twineward.


    "These ain''t like any Bandits or soldiers I''ve seen afore," Afton remarked, his voice carrying the heavy accent of their land. "They''re... different."


    Sofan nodded in agreement as he covered his brow with one hand to get a better look at the approaching band. "Aye, lad. Perhaps they''re the ones that felled that Wyvern the other night," he mused, his voice resonating with a mix of caution and intrigue. "But let''s not lower our guard just yet. Could be they''re just another lot lookin'' fer trouble."


    As the defenders of Twineward watched, the strangers maneuvered their metallic, beastless, carriages into positions that drew a deep frown on Sofan''s seasoned face. The precision with which they positioned themselves was not lost on him; it was a tactic reminiscent of competent commanders placing siege engines before a battle.


    "Look at ''em, movin'' like they be layin¡¯ a siege," Sofan muttered under his breath, his grip on his partisan tightening. "They be already out of arrow range, but they placin'' themselves where a mage would find it hard to reach and coverin'' their flanks."


    Afton gave his father a nervous glance, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. "There''s only a few of ''em," he observed, trying to find some reassurance in their numbers. "And they don¡¯t look so tough."


    Turning to his son, Sofan¡¯s face hardened. His boy was as hard-headed as he was self-absorbed, always quick to boast of his prowess. "Afton, remember, there were only a few of them auxiliary folks before they came out of nowhere and took Donnu''s girls, and our supplies," Sofan cautioned, his tone grave. "There''s a lot more to outside of them walls than what ye can see."


    A scoff left Afton¡¯s mouth as he waved away at the warning. "Ya, but them good-for-nothin''s had a Wyvern. I probably coulda took Gladeheart," he said, referring to his bow, "and took it out, but I ain''t want the village to be destroyed."


    Sofan glowered at his son for a moment, the frustration evident on his face. "Afton, don''t be a fool," he sighed deeply. "Just cause ya took down a whelping and Ixtal, that ain¡¯t mean you can kill a full-fledge Wyvern!"


    A discontented grunt left Afton¡¯s mouth as he gave his father the side eye. Afton had always harbored a vastly different opinion compared to his old man, especially when it came to assessing his own capabilities and the weight of their ancestral legacy. The topic of his potential and prowess had been a recurring theme in their conversations, a topic that Afton felt he had more insight into than anyone else, including Sofan. After all, it was their powerful grandfather who had chosen him, not his father, to inherit the wondrous bow Gladeheart. This choice, in Afton''s mind, was a clear testament to his inherent strength and destiny to rise above ordinary expectations.


    But this was an argument Afton and Sofan had rehashed time and again, and each time it went nowhere. Afton perceived his father''s caution as little more than projections of his own insecurities and perhaps even jealousy. The old man had been angry that Uncle Pratto had left it in Afton¡¯s care after passing.


    So, as Sofan expressed his concerns about the mysterious newcomers and their potentially hidden strength, Afton couldn¡¯t help but roll his eyes. As he held onto his enchanted bow, each word seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Gladeheart and his skill alone was more than enough to handle any threat, be it from man or beast. In his heart, Afton believed that his over-cautious father would be the downfall of this village one day. And that was a fate He wasn¡¯t willing to part take in. For Afton¡¯s destiny was to be a hero of legend, not merely another villager living in squalor, hunting small game or the occasional deer.


    Recognizing the familiar stubborn set of his son''s jaw, Sofan heaved a weary sigh. He knew all too well the futility of trying to pierce the armor of Afton''s self-assuredness with words alone. "Just... keep yer eyes sharp and Gladeheart ready," Sofan sighed, choosing to drop the argument as a lone figure started to approach. "I ain¡¯t one to be taken by surprise.¡±


    Afton heaved a derisive sigh and looked at his father as if the man had gone completely senile. The figure approaching was unmistakably a woman, and not just any woman, but Donnu''s daughter, Rysa. For a fleeting moment, Afton entertained the thought that perhaps age had finally taken its toll, and this minor slip-up only served to reinforce Afton''s belief that he was the rightful wielder of Gladeheart.


    Without a word, Afton started to climb down the wall to meet the poor woman waddling forward. Sofan, on the other hand, spun around in a mix of frustration and anger. "What the hell are ye doing? Get back on the damned wall, foolish boy!" he barked.


    Not even bothering to answer or even acknowledge his father, Afton continued to climb down until he landed on the ground with a thud. "If ye can''t see who it is, then that ain''t my problem," he finally answered back with a voice laced with what felt like disdain. "I ain''t gonna listen to some blind ol'' bat."


    As the stubborn young man walked off, Sofan stood fuming atop the wall, clutching the shaft of his spear tightly. He knew that arguing whenever Afton had made up his mind, nothing could dissuade him, and any attempt to reason with the young man was pointless. Instead, Sofan decided it would be best to join his son at the gate. Even though the plan was idiotic, committing to a bad plan was better than no plan. He scanned the horizon one more time for signs of any other potential threats besides the strangers and their carriages before leaping off the wall himself and chasing after Afton.


    While he jogged towards the gate, Sofan¡¯s eyes caught the sight of several villagers gathering around, trying to get a better view through the gaps in the walls. The tension and curiosity were so thick in the air that one could taste it, given the recent events that had plagued Twineward. And when he walked past the gate, the sight that greeted Sofan softened the hard edges of worry that had settled around his heart.


    An even larger group had formed, circling around Donnu, who was hugging his daughter, Rysa, tightly. Tears were streaming down his face as spun her around in his arms, weeping unabashedly. "Rysa! I¡¯m so sorry my baby! I shoulda just went at ''em! Even if it meant dying, I shoulda protected you!" Donnu sobbed, his voice cracking with emotion. "Oh god, I didn''t think... I never thought I''d see ye back alive!"


    Rysa was also weeping as she returned her fathers hug. She buried her face into his shoulder, overwhelmed with relief of being back home. "Pa, it''s¡­ it¡¯s okay... pa.¡± She choked out as she squeezed ¡°You couldn''t have done nothin¡¯. There were too many, and they... they had that monster with ¡®em."


    "But I should''ve tried... I should''ve done somethin¡¯," Donnu continued, his apologies tumbling out one after another.


    "Pa, stop," Rysa insisted softly, her hands cupping his tear-streaked face, urging him to look at her. "I''m here now. I¡¯m alive; that¡¯s all that matters, okay?¡±


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    "Good to have ye back," Afton finally spoke up, his voice carrying a mix of relief and a lingering bitterness. "I should''ve done somethin'' too. But¡ª"


    His father cut him off sharply, "If we''d done anythin'', that Wyvern would''ve torched the entire village!" Sofan''s voice was laden with a heavy mix of frustration and a hint of fear at the memory of the threat they had faced. "We couldn''t risk it. Not for everyone."


    Afton''s expression soured further, his earlier bitterness turning into outright anger. "So, we just sacrifice a girl to a group of savages?" he spat out, his voice rising with each word. "Capitulatin'' to those bandits does nothin'' but encourage ''em! And when does it stop, huh? When they find Rysa''s body? Golia''s daughter next? Would ye have been satisfied if we gave them bandits all the women in the village to force themselves onto and murder before ye got the idea that resistin'' is a better option!?"


    The village chief and his son glared at each other with an intensity that those around them thought the two were going to come to blows. It was clear they stood on opposite ends of a divide too wide to bridge with words alone as their vastly different worldviews clashed heavily.


    Before the argument could escalate further, Rysa''s voice, soft yet firm, cut through the tension. "Please, I don''t want any y¡¯all gettin'' hurt over me. So, please don''t fight, I just want to go home to Ma¡¯," she pleaded, her eyes moving between her Sofan and Afton. "It ain¡¯t worth it."


    Her words seemed to douse the flames of anger, at least momentarily. Sofan and Afton reluctantly turned their attention back to her even though they gave each other a scalding side eye.


    "Donnu¡¯s lil¡¯ girl is right," Sofan finally conceded, his voice losing some of its earlier heat. "We got bigger problems than our own¡­ squabbles.¡± He said bitterly as he turned his annoyed gaze to the two three strangers standing patiently in the distance. ¡°How¡¯d ye get back any whos? Them strangers help ya?¡±


    Gently brought down to her feet by her father, Rysa adjusted her ripped clothing and nodded. A haunted look flashed across her face as she recounted her harrowing experience. "When one of them soldiers had their way with m¡­ me,  these strangers..." She paused, swallowing hard, the trauma evident in her quivering voice. "They swept through the camp like specters of death, killing any and all who dared oppose them with a swiftness I''ve only heard of in one of those scary stories Nana would tell me as a youngin¡¯.¡± Rysa glanced over her shoulder and saw the two strangely dressed men standing nonchalantly with their weird weapons and shields. ¡°They helped me, tended to my cuts and bruises, gave me some food and water before askin¡¯ if I''d help them talk with y''all."


    She took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling hands. "They''re lookin'' to trade for supplies, a roof over their head, and a reward if we could muster one." Rysa''s eyes darted between the villagers gathered around, seeking understanding, perhaps even forgiveness, for bringing these ominous strangers to their doorstep.


    Afton''s expression softened as he listened to Rysa. The bitterness and anger momentarily subsided over to the awaiting outsiders and their mysterious intervention. ¡°We should probably hear ¡®em out.¡± He said, glancing at his father, expecting another argument. But instead, he found his father deep in thought as he stared hard at the newcomers.


    ¡°We ain¡¯t got much choice.¡± Sofan nodded, his gaze still fixed on the strangers at the edge of their land. "I''ve heard tales from merchants passin'' through," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his years and the wisdom that came with it. "We be at war. The empire''s been fightin'' with some strange folk and got their teeth kicked in. If these be those damned invaders, and they can swat a Wyvern out the sky like it were no more''n an annoyin'' gnat, then we''d be fools not to grant ''em audience."


    Listening to his father, Afton couldn''t help but frown. The wording his father used didn¡¯t sit with him quite as well as he liked. After all, the people who were meant to protect them from invaders and bandits had turned to savagery themselves, while these strangers had stepped in to help. "Sure, they want a reward," Afton muttered, his eyes narrowing. "But who wouldn''t, after doin'' all that? These auxiliary bastards never done half as much for us."


    ¡°Don¡¯t argue with me on this, BOY.¡± Sofan barked sharply at his son and braced for the challenge. However, instead of retorting with the usual defiance, Afton held his father''s gaze for a moment longer, then simply nodded.


    The action took Sofan by surprise. Afton had always been headstrong, fueled by a fervent belief in his own judgments, especially after inheriting Gladeheart from his brother. But his son, for once in half a decade, chose another path.


    What he didn¡¯t know was Afton¡¯s gut told him these strangers indeed had ulterior motives. however, he felt that these motives were not particularly malicious. At least the malice wasn¡¯t towards them. His father might hark on about his unwise and foolish ways, but Afton decided it was time to let things play out to see how his father¡¯s methods would take things.


    Taken aback by the sudden and unexpected shift in Afton''s demeanor, left Sofan somewhat speechless. Clearing his throat, Sofan regained his composure and turned his attention to Rysa and her father, Donnu. "Git outta here and go on home," the village chief said with a hard look in his eye. "I''ll take care of them outsiders."


    Still overcome with emotion, Donnu, the blacksmith, managed a nod of gratitude before he and Rysa slowly made their way through the villagers as they made way.


    The folk of Twineward whispered among themselves, hushed voices full of curiosity and concern echoing as Sofan squared his shoulders, preparing to act as their delegate again. And now that he got a good look at them, the strangers stood there like Eerily. Their silhouette seemed to be broken up by whatever in the hells they were wearing, and their equipment was the likes of which Sofan nor anyone in Twineward had ever laid eyes on, carrying strange weapons that Stofan couldn¡¯t identify for the life of him. Even their shields seemed to be made of materials odd materials, forgoing the traditional wood or metal and opting for something else entirely.


    ¡°Must be damned mages¡­¡± Sofan muttered to himself before turning to his son with a stern look. ¡°Stay here.¡±


    "No," Afton retorted instantly in a bored and unimpressed tone.


    Sofan''s head snapped towards his son, ready to unleash a torrent of a lecture, but Afton cut him off. "If they wanted to start killin'' us, they wouldn''t bother trickin¡¯ some boondock village head out to murder ¡®em. Plus, weren''t you goin'' to give Donnu leadership if ye passed?" The words hung between them, charged with Afton''s challenge.


    With a mouth flapping like a fish, Sofan struggled to find a response. His son was just too much at times. With a heavy sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head, and moved on. He had neither the time nor the patience to bother with another asinine argument.


    As they made their way toward the waiting strangers, Sofan¡¯s mind started to race. These folk¡­ They were unlike anything the village had ever encountered before. He had dealt with and even killed a mage before, but the way these people carried themselves¡­ It was alien. To Sofan, they were an omen of change, and as a servant of the Empire, it was a change for the worse.


    Afton took a reluctant step back and allowed his father to lead as they approached the two outsiders. The strangers'' reaction was immediate and defensive; they subtly reoriented their shields toward them and adjusted the angle of their weird weapons so they were oriented toward him and his father.


    "Hail, strangers!" Sofan called out, his voice firm yet cautious. He noted their defensive posture and the way they aimed their odd weapons in his direction. Wishing to avoid any misunderstandings, especially considering these men had aided Rysa, Sofan came to a halt and planted his spear into the ground. Raising his hands to show he meant no harm, he then proceeded to walk forward with deliberate, measured steps.


    As he drew closer, Sofan observed that these were indeed men, albeit unlike any he had encountered. One of them was pale, with the clean-shaven appearance of a noble and piercing blue eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything around him. The other sported a short beard and a much darker tanned tone, reminiscent of the people from the southwestern island states, known for their mercenary armies and trade.


    Sofan cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully, "I am Sofan, head of Twineward. We owe ye thanks for the return of our blacksmith¡¯s daughter." His gaze shifted between the two, trying to gauge their reaction. "Ye be far from any land I know. What brings you to Twineward?"


    The one with the tanned skin responded, his voice carrying an accent unfamiliar to Sofan. "We bring refugees from a hamlet a few hours or... uh," he paused, calculating the travel time in a manner they might understand, then continued, "about half a day''s travel from here. Soldiers, like the ones that took the girl, attacked them and razed their homes to the ground."


    Instinctively, Sofan looked back at Afton with eyes that conveyed skepticism towards the tale these outsiders wove. Afton''s face, however, was expressionless, almost as if he found nothing in the stranger¡¯s words to be surprising. They had been virtually attacked as well, after all.


    The tanned man elaborated further, "We''re currently looking for shelter, maybe some trade, and directions. Those soldiers have left many without a family and all of them without homes, so we¡¯ve taken it upon ourselves to get them to some kind of safety before continuing on our journey."


    ¡°That be¡­ very noble of ye, stranger,¡± Sofan responded, looking past the outsiders to see a group of huddled peasants watching their conversation expectantly.


    Every single one of them looked weary and frightened yet clinging to a fragile thread of hope. Not unlike his own, these were people caught in the turmoil of a world they had little control over. It was a compelling bit of evidence supporting the story they told. ¡°ye have come at a difficult time,¡± Sofan said, his voice firm and unwilling to allow a horde of people into his village in these trying times. ¡°While Twineward usually gives whatever aid we can, we ain¡¯t got much after dealing with our own attacks.¡±


    The tanned man nodded in understanding before gesturing and beckoning to a select few from the group of refugees. ¡°Hopefully, we can change your mind. We even have a few representatives that claim to know you,¡± he stated as the selected few shuffled forward.


    Sofan''s gaze intensified, scanning the faces until recognition dawned upon him. Among them, two faces stood out¡ªfaces he knew well but now marred by the harrowing experiences they must have endured. Gone was the vibrancy and gentleness of life that Sofan remembered; in its place was a haunting expression that spoke volumes of the horrors they had faced.


    And as they opened their mouth to speak of their experiences, any chance turning away these refugees and avoiding these strangers disappeared. Even if he didn¡¯t like it, or it lead to their demise, Twineward¡¯s core tenant was never to turn away those from a sister village.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 53

    Elijah was hunched over, resting his head on his arms as he watched a veritable horde of villagers help the refugees through the gate. Men and women, young and old, rallied together in a wholesome display of solidarity and compassion.


    At least it should have been.


    Sure, the people of this were extending their hands in hospitality, pulling together resources to support these refugees, but Elijah couldn''t help but feel a twinge of skepticism. His mind flashed back to his experience during Hurricane Katrina, where the outpouring of aid and support often came with strings attached. For every warm bowl of soup provided, there seemed to be an expectation, a debt incurred, never official or even verbally spoken, but still palpably present. It was a harsh reminder that in the world he came from, assistance rarely came without conditions.


    In the wake of the disaster, communities often rallied together, but the initial surge of goodwill could sometimes morph into resentment or expectation of repayment once the immediate crisis faded. Elijah wondered if this village would also eventually come to view these refugees not just as victims in need but as debts to be repaid or even new assets to exploit. After all, resources were finite, and adding new mouths to feed, especially in this quasi-medieval setting where scarcity was a constant threat, could strain even the most generous community''s goodwill.


    Moreover, Elijah was uncertain about this world''s stance on the vulnerable, particularly women and children. From what he¡¯d seen so far, the impression he got wasn¡¯t exactly what one would call positive. If one went by Earth¡¯s historical context, he could assume their futures were pretty bleak, regardless of what Coleman and the rest of the team wanted to do. Women and children often bore the brunt of societal upheavals and were usually forced by coercion or debt into more¡­ intimate professions.


    Elijah would like to detach himself from the situation, dust off his hands, and say this just wasn''t their problem. However, a nagging sense in the back of his mind told him Coleman wouldn''t stand for such a ¡®Machiavellian¡¯ approach or whatever buzzword he¡¯d think up at the time. However, Elijah liked to think of himself as a Pragmatist or a Realist. Each decision had pros and cons, benefits, and demerits that could have very lethal consequences.


    The question then became: What were they going to do with these refugees? Where would they go now? Where would they sleep? How would they eat? How would all of this be financed? And, most important of all, how could they manage to do all of this while still being able to operate and continue their primary objective?


    Everyone loved getting caught up in the ideals and morality; they never stopped to ask if there was a place and time for any of that. It¡¯s one thing to be presented with a problem like having a group of vulnerable people with the means and ends to do something about it, but they had neither. The ODA was far behind enemy lines, using minimal resources and very minimal personnel with little to no hopes of escape should they be compromised.


    A groan of frustration left Eljah¡¯s mouth as he dug deeper and deeper, using every ounce of his mind to find a way to come out on top. He needed to come up with some kind of win, or else they were unimaginably fucked. The immediate logistical challenges of shelter, food, and not getting their throats slit at night were enough of an issue. But when it came to the longer-term questions of operational security, sustainability, and execution of their mission were even more complex.


    ¡°Bro, what the hell¡­¡± Elijah whined as he lethargically rubbed his eyes.


    Turning his eyes to his team, Elijah watched as Lister and Bennett were off poking at the Wyvern''s corpse, pretending to pull security, while Kwon and Schwarz pushed a poorly maintained cart. The entire ODA, save for him and a few others, were off mingling with the locals or keeping themselves busy in some fashion. Even his team leader, Coleman, was off speaking with the village head and his son, acting as a diplomatic representative.


    A sudden yank of his hair finally brought Elijah out of his brooding and caused him to rear up to his full height in the turret finally. ¡°What is upsetting my human!?¡± She barked cheekily. ¡°Human, inform your master why you are upset, and I shall fix it!¡±


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯...!¡± Elijah winced as he glared up at the fairy who had both feet planted on his forehead, holding onto two fists full of hair to keep her anchored as she leaned forward. ¡°Can you maybe NOT do that?¡± He sneered.


    Unphased by Elijah¡¯s discomfort, Yana simply fluttered her wings in what could only be described as a fairy''s equivalent of a shrug. "But I must know," she insisted, her voice a mix of genuine concern and mischievous curiosity. "How else can I assist my human if he does not share his troubles?"


    ¡°Is it the stupid Elf? Is it your incessant need to constantly move around? Is it the stupid dirty mortals and their stupid dirty huts?¡± Yana started to shotgun off potential reasons while swinging side to side, still pulling at his hair. ¡°Should I zap ¡®em?¡±


    Already sick of her shit, Elijah shot his hand to snatch the little menace off his head, but he found that Yana was infinitely faster. The fairy zipped up into the sky with a triumphant laugh. Glaring up at her, Elijah barked, "Yana, you can''t just zap dudes all willy-nilly! We''re trying to keep a low profile here and not create problems unnecessarily!¡± He narrowed his eyes and glared at his patron. ¡°We need to find the right people to zap, and the right people to turn to our side."


    Yana stuck her tongue out at her human before snapping her head to the side in a harrumph, clearly not taking any of his shenanigans. Meanwhile, Elijah grumbled to himself before leaning against the back of the turret and heaving a kind of deep and heavy sight that only the kind people who were at the end of their ropes made.


    As the last group of refugees finally made their way inside, Elijah wondered what in hell he was going to do with this mess. Completely stumped, he decided to take a shot and ask his cosmic hitchhiker for any ounce of wisdom. Looking up, Elijah watched as Yana continued to hover above him with an impish grin.


    "You had worshipers or some shit,¡± Elijah randomly blurted out, giving her an exhausted look. ¡°What do you think we should do with this shit show? What do you think I should do with these people to make it easier to move around without babysitting them?"


    ¡°First of all, RUDE!¡± Yana shot back with her hands on her hips as she twirled around. ¡°I HAVE worshipers! Not had!¡± She corrected but paused for a moment as she actually considered the question. "Well¡­ Mortal problems require mortal solutions," the goddess finally said, landing on the edge of the mounted heavy machine gun¡¯s barrel, swinging her feet in a carefree manner. "But, if you ask this great one, then this great one¡¯s suggestion is just to take over the village."


    Elijah''s initial reaction was an instinctive scoff as he threw up his hands. "Yeah, no. That''s not an option. I can''t just take over some bumfuck village and¡ª" He began to dismiss the fairy''s outlandish suggestion, already regretting he had even bothered to ask this psychopath¡¯s opinion. However, mid-retort, Elijah froze. His mind raced a mile a minute, and his brows furrowed as the dots started to connect.


    This wasn''t a bad idea... There were some major flaws and pitfalls he¡¯d had to work out like that act there was some obvious contention the village head had for the ODA team and the refugees, but that could be worked out. The majority of the villagers were vastly more accommodating and accepting than their leader, especially after Elijah and the team returned the girl.


    He could leverage that goodwill¡­


    Turning the idea over in his mind, Elijah recognized the opportunity lying beneath the surface of Yana''s seemingly absurd suggestion. If they could position themselves as protectors or if need be, take over the leadership position entirely. This would not only secure the innumerable special operations teams a base of operations but also provide some kind of support for the local population since they were still relatively close to the rift. This could facilitate their primary mission, provide a measure of safety, and give them a pool of local resources to draw upon.


    A twinkle shone in Elijah¡¯s eye as his thoughts went back to that blacksmith¡¯s daughter. The genuine gratitude and goodwill they had earned for returning her could be the perfect foundation to build on. They just had to do something about this grabby, middle-aged man who seemed to stare at them suspiciously¡­ Elijah¡¯s gaze then drifted over to Coleman and the village head having a back-and-forth.


    ¡°Hey, Azeline,¡± Elijah called out, hoping for some insight from a local or at least to bounce some ideas off of her. However, there was no response. He tried again, a bit louder this time, "Azeline?" Still, nothing. Confused, Elijah looked down to find Azeline with her head lolling to the side, her mouth agape, and a large flow of drool flowing down her face as she found the deep embrace of sleep.


    Irritated and somewhat amused at the sight, Elijah gave her shoulder a rough kick. "Hey, Aze! Wake up, goddamnit!" he barked.


    Azeline''s reaction was immediate. She flailed around violently, nearly tumbling out of the vehicle before she caught herself. She whipped her head towards Elijah and shot him a look that could curdle milk. "WHAT!?" she snarled, clearly not appreciative of being roused in such a manner. ¡°WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, YOU GODS DAMNED ASSHOLE!?¡±


    An amused and mischievous look spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he huffed continuously in amusement. ¡°Heheheh, well¡­ I got some questions I need to ask you.¡±


    A bitter look formed on Azeline¡¯s face as she swatted away Elijah''s boot in outrage. "Why the hell would I answer anything you ask after that!?" she barked, balling her hand into a fist.


    Elijah, unfazed and perhaps a bit emboldened by her reaction, looked up at Yana with exaggerated, mock innocence and said in a childish voice as if he were tattling on Azeline, "Yanaaa, she''s not helping me."


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    Yana''s tiny head suddenly popped into the turret, looking down at Azeline with an annoyed and incredulous expression. "Hah!?" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback by the scene unfolding below her.


    ¡°Guh¡­¡± Azeline flinched as her jaw tightened and her fierce looked waivered. For a moment she had completely forgotten about the existence of this damned Fae and was subsequetnly caught off guard. But just as Yana was about to let loose a few choice words of her own, Azeline shouted out first with a voice laced with exasperation, "Fine, fine, fine! What in the hells are your questions!?"


    A mischievous and pompous grin was spread across Elijah¡¯s face when he clapped his hands together. ¡°Wonderful!¡± He shouted in glee before clearing his throat. "Alright, now that I''ve got your attention... I''ve been thinking¡­¡± His finger danced together as his expression turn contemplative.  ¡°So We''ve got these refugees and this village, right? And soooo¡­ I may have found an opportunity here, but it''s delicate.¡±


    Azeline placed a hand to head and started rubbing it to assuage the headache away that was forming. She was close to just turning around and chucking the nearest object at the man, but the omnipresent glare of his patron prevented her from taking any action.


    ¡°As our local expert, what is your take on how to¡­ let¡¯s say¡­¡± Elijah paused for a moment, trying to figure out the right word in this strange language to express what he was trying to achieve. ¡°Take over this village in a less-than-hostile way.¡±


    Staring at the man as if he was stupid, Azeline remained quiet for a few long moments before responding with a mixture of disbelief and sarcasm, "Just say you''re taking over...?" She narrowed her eyes and lightly shook her head as if to say that this was the most obvious solution. Continuing with a tone of incredulity, she added, "And if they resist, you kill the village head and anyone else who says otherwise. What kind of stupid question is that?"


    ¡°No, no, no. Just, no.¡± Elijah pressed both hands to the bridge of his nose before throwing his head back slightly. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to kill them or force them. I¡¯m trying to umm¡­.¡± His hands started rolling as he tried to think of the words. ¡°Coerce? No. Pressure? No. Manipulate?¡± He then snapped his fingers and pointed at Azeline before continuing, ¡°Manipulate! I¡¯m trying to manipulate them into listening to us instead of their leader!¡±


    The annoyed look on Azeline¡¯s face softened a bit as she crossed her arms and tapped her finger on her bicep. ¡°Hmmmm¡­ I think I know what you¡¯re trying to get at, but¡­¡± She hummed in interest as she began to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I haven''t been a serf or a peasant since I was a child, so I''m not overly familiar with their current wants and needs," she confessed. "However, I have experience with taking over villages abandoned by their lords when I was a shield maiden. As far as I know, you''ve already done quite a bit by saving and returning one of their own. But, these refugees are going to quickly weigh on them and become a burden if left as is."


    Elijah started to stroke his beard thoughtfully as he listened. The issue of the refugees was indeed pressing, and their presence could potentially strain their relationship with the villagers if not handled correctly. The main issues were going to be food and shelter, and seeing that the majority of the survivors were women and children, they couldn¡¯t exactly be put to manual labor like military-aged men.


    "They¡¯ll eventually have to be relocated," Azeline concluded with a sigh, but her eyes sharpened as she looked over to the eastern horizon. "However¡­ There¡¯s quite a sizable town not too far away from here.  Maybe you could get a trade caravan going under your protection. This village is out in the middle of nowhere, so any chance they could get an armed escort, they¡¯ll jump at it.¡±


    That bit of information seemed to light up Elijah¡¯s face. "Okay, okay!¡± He nearly shouted as he looked over at Coleman, who was finally making his way over. ¡°We could do a few favors, help around with the villagers, and ingratiate ourselves to them. If the village chief or whatever doesn¡¯t like us, he¡¯ll still be undermined by our favorable outlook, and then we could work on turning them against him," Elijah mused, his mind racing with possibilities.


    ¡°And if all else fails, you could¡­¡± Azeline smiled evilly and slid her hand across her throat. ¡°Do some leadership changes behind the scenes during the Caravan escort.¡±


    Just as Elijah and Azeline were getting into the meat of their nefarious plotting, Coleman arrived, catching the tail end of their cackling madness. The look on his face was one of disgust as he surveyed the scene before him. Elijah, still brimming with the glee of their scheming, barely noticed Coleman''s approach until it was too late.


    "Great... now there''s two of them," Coleman muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting between Elijah and Azeline. The disdain was palpable in his voice as he spoke up, "Do I even want to know?"


    ¡°Probably not.¡± The two troublemakers said at the same time.


    -


    ¡°Ryffka.¡± A voice called out in the periphery of Ryffka¡¯s consciousness.


    But the words quickly disappeared as quickly as they came, as deafening and horrifying snaps and hisses of projectiles resounded all around him. Ryffka found himself running through what seemed like an endless field of Kapen Grass as he ran for his life.


    Ryffka''s heart pounded in his chest wildly as terror gripped his mind. He cursed himself repeatedly, regretting trying to play it smart and join the Auxiliaries for some "valuable" experience before venturing into the independent and treacherous world of being a Freelancer. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he screamed between labored breaths, the reality of his situation crashing down on him with every step he took through the dense grass that seemed to grip around his legs as if trying to slow him down.


    The sounds of the strange and terrifying weapons pursued him relentlessly. Each snap and hiss was a promise of death if he dared to slow his pace. The projectiles struck the ground closer and closer, throwing up clumps of earth and snapping thick blades of grass with each impact. The idea that just moments ago, he had been considering this stint with the Auxiliaries as a mere stepping stone in his career seemed laughably naive now.


    ¡°Ryffka, wake up.¡± The voice called again, more urgently this time. It was a familiar voice, one that he recognized even in his panicked state. But the grip of fear was strong, and he struggled to break free from the terror¡¯s unyielding hold.


    With burning lungs, Ryffka pushed his legs to the limit as he made his flight. Ryffka''s mind raced, searching desperately for a plan, any plan, to escape this nightmare. He had always prided himself on his ability to think on his feet, but he found himself in a seemingly impossible position.


    Desperation started to set in as Ryffka realized just how hopeless his situation was. He was no proper mage with formal training, adorned with an arsenal of powerful spells at his disposal. No, he was merely some random lucky idiot who had learned to read at an early age and had been even luckier to get his hands on a beginner''s spellbook. That modest achievement, which had once filled him with pride, now seemed insignificant in the face of the overwhelming force pursuing him.


    He knew for a fact that he was outclassed in every conceivable way by these unknown beings, and his end seemed that it wasn¡¯t just a possibility but an inevitability. The advanced magic or ¡ª whatever it was that his pursuers wielded ¡ª was like nothing he had ever encountered or read about. Each burst of cacophonous barking from their strange weapons was a stark reminder of his impending doom.


    And just as this grim acceptance settled over him, a misstep sealed his fate. The thick tendrils of the Kapen Grass finally ensnared him. With a sudden jerk, his legs were yanked back by the usually inert crop, sending him face-first into the unforgiving earth below. An involuntary "oof" escaped his lips as he made contact, the ground knocking the breath from his lungs.


    Dazed and confused as to why inanimate grass would usually trap him, Ryffka''s eyes went wide with fear as the sound of two heavy thunks resounded just behind him. Turning around, he found two fist-sized orbs slowly rolling his way. A sense of dread and horror filled him as Ryffka opened his mouth to scream, but before a sound could come out, a thundering smack and searing hot pain coursed through his face.


    ¡°Wake up; you damned feathered idiot!¡± Talarion sneered as Ryffka shot up, holding his face with panicked eyes.


    Ryffka''s face spun around wildly, trying to make sense of his surroundings as his mind reeled from the sudden shift in reality. The last thing he remembered was the terrifying pursuit through the grass, but now he found himself bouncing rhythmically in the back of a carriage. The jostling was disorienting, and for a moment, he could not reconcile how he''d gone from a flight for his life to this.


    Talarion''s glare was sharp as he let out an exasperated sigh. "We''re here," Talarion said, nonchalantly gesturing ahead.


    Following the direction of Talarion''s hand, Ryffka gazed out of the carriage to see a town built on top of a hill unfolding before them. It was almost impossibly picturesque, with quaint stone houses adorned with creeping vines and blooming flowers. The rooftops were a blend of earthy tones, and the streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of daily life, yet a tranquil harmony seemed to permeate the air.


    For a moment, Ryffka simply sat there, taking it all in before a deep and heavy sigh left his mouth. They finally arrived at the town of Glennsworth, and hopefully, the events leading up to this point would turn into a distant nightmare. However, Ryffka knew trying to forget the horrors of how the otherworlders waged war would be impossible, but the town''s allure did a lot to soothe his frayed nerves.


    ¡°Thank the gods¡­¡± Ryffka finally muttered out after flopping back down into the bed of the carriage.


    As the lines of stress dissipated on Ryffka¡¯s delicate features, Talarion couldn¡¯t help but roll his eyes. "Yes, thank the gods,¡± Talarion shouted, gesturing grandly to the sky as they rumbled through the gates of Glennsworth. ¡°Because it was the gods that dragged your sorry dehydrated ass across endless fields of garbage!¡± Talarion retorted sarcastically with a dry chuckle.


    Ryffka looked up at him with an impish smile creeping onto his lips. "I suppose. I owe you a word of thanks." He shot back as his arms went behind his head and his eyes closed. ¡°I would also suppose we could consider ourselves even since I dragged you out of that nightmare in the fort.¡±


    Talarion huffed in feigned annoyance as he leaned against the wall and waved off Ryffka''s remark with a wave of his hand. "Ya, whatever. I¡¯m just glad we¡¯re away from those damned demons.¡± He continued with audible relief in his voice. ¡°It almost felt like we were being chased.¡±


    ¡°Right? It was as if those otherworldly hellspawns were unsatisfied with the fact they hadn¡¯t struck down every soul in that damnable place and dedicated themselves to finishing the job...¡± Ryffka said in disgust as he let out an exhausted sigh.


    Flipping his eyes over his shoulder and looking at the hilltop covered in buildings, Ryffka seemed to murmur to himself rather than to Talarion. "But what''s next?"


    "We find a way to make ourselves some money here and start gathering supplies," Talarion replied, leaning forward, his voice low and conspiratorial. "We have skills, and this town could use someone of our... talents. We horde as much crap as we can and then high tail it to Aldenshore."


    Bringing his hand to his smooth chin, Ryffka considered Talarion''s words with a smirk. "Hmmmmmm¡­" he hummed in interest as he thought this could be another opportunity to gain some experience as a newly budding Freelancer.  "I like the sound of that. Plus, we should have some time to relax and spread our wings out before those¡­ things¡­ show up again.¡±


    "Yeah, we''ll lay low, gather what we can, and prepare for the road ahead," Talarion agreed, his eyes scanning the marketplace''s vibrant stalls and chattering townsfolk. "I doubt they¡¯ll attack somewhere so populated."


    Ryffka chuckled lightly and sat up once more, allowing the tension to finally seep out of his shoulders as he watched a group of children chasing each other around a fountain.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 54

    The darkness of light loomed over Aldenshore as Vyrrasha glowered hatefully at the reports she was handed by her retainers and war council.


    The Seraph Dragonkin¡¯s snout clenched tighter with each word she read, her draconic pupils narrowing into slits as she digested the gravity of the information laid out before her. The magically imbued parchment crackled under the tension of her grip, the spell protecting it threatening to shatter. For her, as a Duchess of the Empire, these were not just words; they were a harbinger of potential doom, a shadowed path that could lead to ruin if she tread carelessly.


    She could usually dismiss reports of skirmishes and minor losses with a cold, calculated detachment, but not now. Now, every syllable bore weight. Every stroke of ink could be the difference between life and death. Vyrrasha was no stranger to the deadly dance of power, but this... this was different.


    At first, Vyrrasha thought her supposed Emperor had ever so carefully placed her in a position to blunt the main thrust of the Otherworlders in a bid to defame and discredit her. But on closer inspection and verification of the Otherworlder''s capabilities, it was all too apparent he was trying to kill her.


    When she finally spoke, her voice was a lethal whisper that cut through the tense air of the chamber. "Tharivol," she addressed one of her generals, a Dark Elven man, "they¡¯re everywhere like a plague, aren''t they?" She asked as superheated primal fire leaked from her snout and snarling maw.


    Tharivol''s dark eyes darted away, his usual composed demeanor faltering under her intense gaze. "Y-Yes, Mistress," he admitted with a deep and respectful bow. "These otherworlders, they... they strike swiftly and fade into the night, leaving turmoil in their wake."


    Vyrrasha''s tail lashed out, sweeping a stack of maps from the table in a display of frustration. "Everywhere we believe ourselves secure, they prove us wrong," she hissed, the fire within her threatening to burst forth. "Command centers compromised, supply lines in disarray, our commanders fall one by one to their invisible blades... Even the troops, our soldiers, now sleep with one eye open, fearing the night''s embrace."


    Tharivol''s hand clenched at his side, his own frustration mirroring his queen''s. "Their methods are... not too dissimilar to the methods of the Tauri," he conceded, struggling to maintain his composure as his eyes darted to the dark grey-skinned Tauri Savage in the corner of the chambers. "And the fear they sow is potent among the other lord''s men, Mistress."


    The fury within Vyrrasha only seemed to grow after hearing Tharivol''s words. It was a smoldering anger that seemed to heat the very air around her and cause her council to flinch as more flames erupted from her mouth and nostrils. "Damn you, Varian..." she cursed through gritted teeth, the name of the Emperor searing the room with its bitterness. "I hope the hells take you to the deepest, coldest pit they can find and lock you away for all eternity..."


    The room fell into an uneasy silence, her council and retainers exchanging nervous glances, not daring to utter a word. To speak out during such a display of wrath was to risk a fiery end.


    Several long, agonizing minutes passed as Vyrrasha sat upon her throne. Her head rested lightly in one hand as her fingers covered her eyes as if to shield her from the world''s treachery. Her chest heaved with each breath, the embers of her anger glowing hot beneath her feathers.


    Finally, with a deep, controlled inhale, the Duchess composed herself, and the flames subsided. She realized every minute, every second counted, and she could not afford to brood. Not now, not when every move could lead to her demise. "I want every dragon and every Wyvern accounted for," she commanded with an authoritative and measured tone. "I want every man or beast who is even capable of even FEELING mana to be put under my command."


    Suddenly, Vyrrasha stood up and strode toward the table where a detailed magical projection of the lands lay displayed. The room balked at her order, and a human commander, garbed in the regal uniform of his rank, dared to speak, his voice a mixture of caution and concern. "Mistress, the lords and ladies of the war group would never¡ª"


    "THEN KILL THEM!" Vyrrasha''s shout was a shockwave that rattled the chamber, her draconic fury causing a puff of flames to burst forth and send the human reeling from the intense heat and cringe.


    The room was plunged into a frightened silence, each member of the council fully aware of the stakes. Vyrrasha''s eyes, now shimmering with an inner fire, swept across the faces of her advisors, her generals, her retainers¡ªeach one avoiding her gaze, knowing full well she was completely serious.


    She leaned over the projection, her face piercing a mountain and her claws clamping down on the representation of the rift. "We are at WAR!" She growled fiercely. "And war requires discipline, obedience, and sacrifice! If the lords and ladies continue to play their petty games of power and refuse to see the threat these otherworlders pose, if they cannot unite under one banner for the sake of our very existence, then they are no better than traitors!"


    Vyrrasha''s voice thundered through the chamber, resonating with the authority of a commander preparing for an all-out siege. "Be they peasant or count, if ANY refuse to fall in line under a unified command, then they are to be slain on the spot!" Her eyes scanned the room, capturing the expressions of shock and fear on every face present. The gravity of her command hung heavy in the air; there was not a hint of double speak or sarcasm in the Dragoness''s words.


    "Tharivol, Morith, Erend, Silvar, you four are to bring with you ALL of my greatest mages and warriors at first light and see to it they¡¯re all brought in line," Vyrrasha continued, her voice as cold and hard as the stone walls surrounding them. "You have my full authority as Duchess to execute any who refuse, political blowback be damned! If I must slaughter half of the nobility and become an enemy of every house, then so be it!¡±


    "If I am to be cosigned to my grave by this inbred cur of an Emperor," she bellowed, the fire in her belly igniting once more, sending waves of heat throughout the room, "then I shall do so kicking and screaming, dragging as many of those fop bastards and hellspawned otherworlders with me!"


    ¡°Shall I start conscripting the local population and Freelancers, mistress?¡± Morvalen, the Human commander, asked as he bowed deeply.


    Kicking the slag clumped on the stone floor to the side and out of the way, Vyrrasha¡¯s gaze never left the magical projection that illuminated the chamber with an ethereal glow. Her snout twisted in disgust at the suggestion, "No, the mundane will be useless in this fight, and the sellswords are too unreliable. I need discipline and obedience, not warm bodies!" She sneered. "The lords and ladies brought plenty enough fodder to blunt whatever those creatures will throw at us initially."


    As the Duchess spread her taloned hands on the table, she leaned forward so her imposing figure loomed even larger over the map. Her eyes, now aflame with a predatory intensity, were fixed on the glowing representation of the rift.


    "We must treat their aerial threat as if it far exceeds those reported from the initial expedition," she declared, her voice cutting through the heavy air like a knife. "We must become clever and vicious." The darkness of her feathers seemed to absorb the light around her, casting her in a silhouette that was both majestic and terrifying.


    Her advisors were a collection of some of the most formidable minds and warriors in the empire, and they all stood frozen. The mere notion of losing air superiority was unthinkable, yet Vyrrasha''s implications were clear¡ªthey needed to prepare for the worst. The concept of merely contested airspace was unsettling enough, but to be wholly outmatched was a scenario they hadn''t dared to contemplate.


    "Due to our ¡®Emperor¡¯s¡¯ most gracious allocation of qualified personnel, beasts, and dragons, we must adopt a more asymmetrical approach," Vyrrasha continued, her voice turned more thoughtful as her eyes darted across the map, focusing on the vast, dense forests stretching between the rift and Aldenshore. "But only once we have acquired as many living mages as we can."


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    As she began pacing back and forth, her movements were calculated, each step measured with the precision of a predator. "Analyses and reports on how these beings can somehow detect and even see things from impossibly far distances¡­" she explained, coming to a stop. "We need to mitigate this advantage."


    The room listened intently as their Duchess closed her eyes and retreated back into her own mind. Several long minutes seemed to float by as they anxiously waited for her next instructions. And just when someone opened their mouth to ask if there was anything else she¡¯d like done, Vyrrasha¡¯s eyes suddenly shot open.


    "Anke, while we wait for these mages, go to every town and gather as many enchanters and artificers as you can and have them start weaving illusions and decoy enchantments.." Vyrrasha turned to one of her most trusted war mages, a pale-skinned and blonde-haired High Elf man she had retained for centuries. "Once the mages arrive, I need you to start teaching them Golemancy."


    "And Sestri," the Duchess finally addressed the leader of her Tauri savages, ¡°I don¡¯t care what you do, but..." Another hateful look spread across her face. ¡°Put a stop to these DAMNED RAIDS!¡±


    -


    As the days went by, Coleman meticulously refined Elijah''s strategy and made operational changes that were a lot more palatable for an international force. Elijah''s schemes often bordered on the brilliant but said schemes required a firm hand to guide and temper them from their fringe or unhinged nature to functional and actionable.


    Elijah was wildly unpredictable, and he teetered on being sociopathic. Coleman often found himself in a curious position, both admiring and exhausted by Elijah''s antics. It was no wonder he never progressed any further than his current position as simply ¡®a medic¡¯. Even though Elijah had the mind and skill sets to become a team leader himself, or even a tier 1 operator, he was always constantly peered out of selection by cadre.


    While not quite a loose cannon, Elijah was still incredibly hard to control, especially when he thought he was right. His instincts were sharp, and he was deviously clever to the point where he was often two steps ahead of everyone else, but his whimsical nature was both a strength and a liability. At times, Elijah would suggest plans so outlandish and daring that they skirted the edges of recklessness. Yet, more often than not, they worked, often leaving Coleman in a state of reluctant awe.


    ¡°You deserve that fucking fairy¡­¡± Coleman sighed exhaustedly ass he walked towards a massive snaking river where Elijah had been supposedly last seen with a group of villagers doing laundry.


    The team had been saying the idiot had been chatting up one of the local girls for the past couple of days. Most of the villagers had already returned besides the two in question and Coleman thought it¡¯d be best he¡¯d give his medic a stern talking to before he got any cute ideas.


    As he trudged down the rough and patchy dirt road, Coleman couldn¡¯t help but continue his grumbling, "They''re basically the same person¡­ Just when I think I''ve got one under control, the other goes off rail..." He finished, pinching the bridge of his nose


    But if the idea of having to tard wrangle Elijah and his demented fairy was bad, a third wheel decided to enter the mix. The FNG ¡ª the Fucking New Guy ¡ª a term the ODA had settled on calling their newly minted Engineer, Bennett, had been spending far too much time with Elijah. Not only was he adopting the medic''s habits, but Bennett was also starting to pick up more unconventional and, practically speaking, insane tactical acumen.


    Letting out a heavy breath, Coleman started to near the river and noticed a singular basket full of rough linens sitting just to the side of the road. He was about to open his mouth and shout for his medic when a sudden movement caught his attention. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, stood up and crested over the river bank with cheeks flushed a deep red.


    The woman cleared her throat and adjusted her knee-high dress while massaging her abdomen as if it were sore. But as Coleman processed the situation, he also saw Elijah¡¯s form popping up as the man hastily clamped his belt closed.


    ¡­.


    Coleman''s face became an unreadable mask as he stared deadpan at the two, his eyes conveying both a lack of amusement and a lack of surprise. ¡°Are you fuckin¡¯ serious?¡± He abruptly spoke up.


    The village girl let out a squeak in terror as she snapped around and stared at Coleman like a deer in the headlights. Upon realizing who it was, the villager¡¯s expression went from terror to deep embarrassment as she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. After the brief moment of shock, she then averted her gaze, murmured an apology, and quickly trotted away through the underbrush towards the village.


    For the moment, Elijah remained frozen in place, but unlike the village girl, he held Coleman''s gaze as they both became locked in an impromptu staring contest that neither seemed willing to lose. It was a battle of wills, an unspoken challenge between two soldiers who knew each other far too long and far too well.


    The tension was thick enough that one would have been able to cut it with a knife, and as the seconds ticked by, Elijah''s eyes began to dart around, searching for any possible escape route. But sensing his subordinate''s instinct to flee, Coleman¡¯s eyes narrowed as he spoke up with a monotone voice that carried an unmistakable edge of seriousness. "I''ll shoot you in the dick if you run.¡±


    Elijah''s eyes snapped back to Coleman, as he tried to discern whether to take that threat seriously or not. It was a ludicrous statement, yet coming from Coleman, there was a certain gravity to it. Elijah knew the man was capable of making good on his threats in the most unexpected ways.


    The standoff continued for a moment longer before Elijah let out a resigned sigh, conceding defeat as he raised his hand. ¡°Bro, chill. I¡¯m, uh. Gathering intelligence and building rapport.¡± He said, trying to use his silver tongue to get out of the shit he stepped into.


    Coleman''s head flinched back, and his eyes fluttered for a moment as if he was assaulted with an impossibly heavy wave of mental damage in the form of stupidity. ¡°Rap- RAPPORT!?¡± He shouted back incredulously as he held his dead. ¡°OH! OH YOU¡¯RE BUILDING RAPPORT!¡± With a contemptuous laugh that echoed slightly through the grove, he gestured broadly around him as if presenting Elijah''s absurd justification to an invisible audience. "Ahahah, how rude of me!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Then, pressing his fingertips to his chest as though pointing to himself, Coleman continued, his tone thick with mock apology. "I thought... you were fucking a local, I totally didn''t realize you were building RAPPORT." The word ''rapport'' was enunciated with a heavy dose of irony.


    Flopping his hand down to his side with a loud smack against his thigh, Coleman spoke a mock apology as he pouted his face. "I''m so sorry, Eli. How could I EVER get those two mixed up!" The excuse was so absurd that even the birds seemed to pause in their singing.


    Elijah, for his part, managed to keep a straight face, though the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting back a grin. ¡°Hey man, look.¡± He shrugged, keeping his tone convincingly unsure. ¡°These guys get up to some crazy shit. If we want to probably engage in what I¡¯d like to call Village Re-Orientation Operations¨C¡± Elijah was soon interrupted by a stick flying towards his face, which he managed to dodge barely. ¡°Yo chill!¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!¡± Coleman bellowed as picked up an even larger one and chucked it as his medic at full force. ¡°You think you¡¯re gonna gaslight me!? You think you¡¯re fuckin¡¯ smart!?¡±


    This idiot had crossed a lot of lines, and Coleman had put up with a lot of Elijah¡¯s bullshit, but this was by far the stupidest thing he¡¯d had the displeasure of dealing with, and his patience was worn thin. Fueled by righteous fury in the face of Elijah''s antics, the team leader had escalated to hurling not just sticks and verbal barbs but also whatever he could lay his hands on in the environment. Elijah, for his part, danced around with a nimbleness that belied his usually laid-back demeanor, each dodge accompanied by a plea for reason.


    In an act of uncontrolled rage, Coleman grabbed a branch as thick as one¡¯s arm and jumped over the bushes to beat him with it. ¡°What if you get her pregnant!? What if Brass finds out!? What if you get fucking SPACE AIDS!¡±


    "Dude, relax! I used protection!" Elijah called out from behind a large rock, attempting to bring some sense of rationality to the bizarre situation. This declaration brought Coleman to an abrupt halt as his expression morphed from one of fury into utter bafflement.


    "WHAT!?" Coleman exclaimed, the incredulity in his voice cutting through the tension. "What does that EVEN MEAN!?"


    Seizing the moment of pause, Elijah¡¯s head popped out from his makeshift cover, "You really think I''d come to a place with elves and cat girls without taking an industrial pack of condoms?" he quipped, his tone light but earnest. "Like, come on. Let¡¯s be real."


    The absurdity of the statement, combined with the sincerity with which Elijah delivered it, seemed to make Coleman feel like he was going to burst a blood vessel. However, his menace of a subordinate wasn¡¯t done there.


    Before Coleman could recover from the initial shock and gather his wits to launch another tirade, Elijah quickly shifted the conversation, hoping to distract his enraged team leader with potentially useful information.


    "Besides! I actually managed to get a tip on where some tax-collecting noble dickhead and his horde of food is stashed!" Elijah said, putting up his hands in surrender. ¡°We can hit ¡®em and snatch it!¡± he finished, backing up a little, hoping that would sate Coleman¡¯s anger.


    Coleman stood there, branch in hand, narrowing his eyes at his medic before tossing it to the ground and pointing at him. ¡°This isn¡¯t over¡­¡± He growled ominously before gesturing for Elijah to follow.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 55

    ¡°T-this! This is madness!¡± Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. ¡°You¡¯d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you¡¯d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?¡±


    Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid''s face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human¡¯s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol''s dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster''s demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.


    ¡°Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!¡± The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. ¡°I cannot, and I shall not!¡±


    Count Harmswid''s rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I''ll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"


    The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count''s threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.


    Once, the count''s rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess''s order?" Tharivol''s voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.


    "NO!" The count''s response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"


    Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count''s personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. ¡°Coin? Concessions? Favors?¡±


    The count''s face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I''d sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.


    Tharivol simply nodded as if the count''s refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.


    These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.


    "Take the Count''s head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.


    But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being''s eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one''s forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people¡¯s blood run cold.


    The Count and his guard''s eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.


    As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.


    Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards ¨C his paragons of strength ¨C were being ruthlessly dismembered.


    The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.


    Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.


    Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid¡¯s world plunged into darkness.


    With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.


    "Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,¡± Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as¡­ palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.¡±


    The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count''s authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.


    Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count''s hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.


    A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.


    And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.


    To Tharivol''s left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess''s most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress¡¯s influence and strength. The great warrior''s hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.


    Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon''s colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count''s head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.


    "YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!¡±


    The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.


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    A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count''s retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.


    Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he¡¯d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess¡¯s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.


    Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.


    "Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol''s gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"


    His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess'' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count''s brutal end.


    The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.


    An expression like a viper''s grin spread across Tharivol¡¯s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid''s head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.


    "You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."


    With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.


    However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon''s attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.


    The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn''t made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.


    Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.


    With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf''s tone that sent chills down every man in the Count¡¯s army¡¯s spine.


    Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon''s breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.


    He scrambled back even further as the dragon''s head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men ¨C the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.


    Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.


    For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. ¡°Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them ¨C it is of no concern to me.¡± He answered, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°Now that you have your answer¡­ do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."


    As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. ¡°Y-You heard ¡®em! Git yer asses movin¡¯ less ya want to be Dragon feed!¡± The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. ¡°And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!¡±


    Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.


    And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.


    ¡°Fuck¡­ is that our target¡¯s head?¡± Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. ¡°I think that¡¯s his head¡­¡±


    Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble''s head in hand. ¡°Yep¡­ Yep, that¡¯s his head¡­¡± He nearly growled in annoyance. ¡°Damnit¡­¡±


    "Wait, isn''t this a good thing? We don''t gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.


    Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag ''em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can¡¯t question a corpse."


    ¡°All units, this is Baron actual.¡± Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. ¡°Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.¡±


    ¡°Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.¡± An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. ¡°That¡¯s a BIG fackin¡¯ cunt, mate... I¡¯m not so sure about this one.¡±


    No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we¡¯re trying to figure something out."


    ¡°This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don¡¯t think the operation¡¯s worth it with this thing hanging around."  A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandos¨®w (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.


    The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they¡¯d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re blue balled by a big fackin¡¯ lizard.¡± The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. ¡°What do ya think? Should we pull out?¡±


    Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.


    ¡°Warlock, hold one.¡± Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.


    A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader¡¯s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.


    As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.


    Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah¡­ that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.


    The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste¡­ Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt¡­ wrong.


    Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.


    But it didn''t attack.


    The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.


    Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn¡¯t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.


    Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. ¡°This Baron actual, let¡¯s wait a bit and see what happens...¡± Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 56

    Knight Captain Shaw barked orders at his men like a rabid dog. His voice was hoarse and edged with panic as exhaustion gnawed at his already frayed mind. His body became heavy, and his thoughts became a haze of fatigue, but he continued to push his men and himself relentlessly throughout the night.


    "Pick up the damned pace!" he roared, his spittle flying. ¡°I¡¯ll flog any ye fucks that think to dally!¡±


    That foul Dark Elf had said they''d have an entire day to rest, but Shaw wasn¡¯t going to trust the word of some knife-eared prick that gobbled down a bigwig Noble¡¯s dick as far as he could the devious bastard. However, his men were weary and weren¡¯t keen on complying. Shaw could understand the sentiment, but they didn¡¯t know what he knew. They haven¡¯t experienced the backstabbing nature and the insidious double-speak that came with upper society.


    He hand to make them comply through any means necessary, even if it meant taking a head or two.


    Shaw''s eyes darted nervously between the men scurrying around and the eastern night sky, searching for any sign of that damned dragon. The sudden appearance and subsequent disappearance had left him unnerved. Usually, something that big and that old was accompanied by entire cities being put to the torch just to make a point, and the fact that Shaw¡¯s Lord was executed and labeled as a traitor didn¡¯t bode well. The feathered bitch wasn¡¯t fucking around, and she was out for blood.


    "But Capt''n Shaw, the Dark Elf, said we had an entire day to rest," a young, newly anointed knight ventured. His voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with the unspoken fear they all felt.


    "Are ye an imbecile, lad!?" Shaw snapped, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and yanking him closer. "Do ye trust a snake with yer neck!?" He jabbed a calloused finger at the knight''s chest, spraying him with spittle. "That dark-skinned bastard will sell us out the moment it suits him!  We march NOW, or that piece of shite will label us as traitors as well and have that damned monster breathing fire upon us before dawn!¡±


    Shaw released the young knight with a final shove, sending him stumbling backward. Paranoia flickered in the Knight Captain¡¯s eyes as his hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword, itching for the comfort of solid steel in a world gone mad. Every rustle of leaves, every distant animal cry, sent shivers down his spine, and his gaze darted back to the horizon with a desperate intensity.


    "MOVE!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with strain. "We cannot afford to linger here another moment! Get those wagons loaded and those supplies packed! We must be gone before dawn breaks!"


    The men and women of the camp scrambled to obey, and as  Shaw watched them, his jaw set, his body thrumming with restless energy. This was no longer simply a means to collect tribute and supply the war effort ¨C it was a desperate flight for survival.


    He cast a glance over his shoulder, half-expecting that Dark Elf and his shadows to be watching them with their dark eyes gleaming with cold amusement. To Shaw¡¯s relief, the bastard and his minions were nowhere to be seen. But after seeing just how long it was taking for their departure to take shape, an uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.


    Wagons were being overloaded with barrels of grain, crates of hardy fruits and vegetables, and cages of squawking chickens. Larger, bulkier beasts like the lean, razor-fanged worgs used as war mounts were being prepped by riders, and the plump, docile, shaggy horned beasts that were bred for burden ¨C were not even ready. The first light of the morning was coming soon, and they were nowhere near ready for departure.


    "By the Emperor''s balls..." Shaw swore under his breath. At this rate, they''d be lucky to move more than a kilometer before the afternoon. Fury surged through him like a wildfire. This was no army, no fighting unit ¨C it was a disorganized mob.


    With a snarl, he stomped towards a group of soldiers struggling to hoist a massive crate of chickens, clucking away, onto the back of a groaning wagon. "Leave it!" The Knight Captain barked, his voice a whipcrack across the hushed camp. "Leave all of it! Gods damn it all!"


    The soldiers stopped, their eyes wide with shock. "B-But Captain," one stammered, "The Count¨C."


    "The Counts DEAD ya fool!!" Shaw roared, kicking the crate. It slid with a thud, spilling its precious contents across the dirt. "We''re leaving this wrong shit behind if we want to see another sunrise!"


    And just as those words left the good Knight Captain¡¯s mouth, dawn''s first rays painted the eastern horizon, causing his face to fall. They were nowhere near ready. Yet, even as panic began to gnaw at him, a screeching cry pierced the air as a chorus of shrieks echoed from the skies.


    Shaw spun around, his heart pounding in horror, thinking it was a dragon, but instead, a flock of wyverns graced his vision. Dozens upon dozens of the smaller Dragon-like beings soared across the skies, their leathery wings blotting out the rising sun. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It was a reminder of the monstrous power the Count held as a breeder.


    A surge of relief crashed over Shaw. The messages had reached Count¡¯s Wyvernic nesting grounds, and the message he''d sent just after that damned dark elf played his bloody theatrical games made it. One Wyvern and its rider and a woman donning a dark gambeson reinforced by chain mail assessed the situation below before descending for a landing.


    "Finally!" He breathed, a flicker of hope rekindling in his chest as he walked towards the woman and saw she had steel hair with the weathered face of a seasoned rider.


    Grabbing her blade staff, the woman dismounted and casted a quick protection spell as her Wyvern snarled and snapped at a few workers who had gotten to close. "Captain Shaw, I take it?" she said warily, peering around the camp to spot any sign of deception. "I''m Commander Eira, of the Barbed Talon. We received the Lord Harmswid¡¯s message¡­ What in all the Abyss is going on?"


    Shaw swallowed, trying to keep the desperation from seeping into his tone. "A change of plans, Commander. The Duchess," he lowered his voice, "has decided to¡­ consolidate our Lord¡¯s forces¡­"


    Eira frowned, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the camp before pulling off her riding cap, exposing her pointed ears, and eyed Shaw in disbelief. ¡°And our Lord¡­ agreed? To this?¡± She replied incredulously, her hand tightening around her staff.


    Shaw hesitated, a thousand half-truths and evasions flashing through his mind. The reality they just experienced was so convoluted, so insane, that it would likely sound like the ramblings of a lunatic. Yet, lying to one like Commander Eira''s gaze, with an entire wing of Wyverns, seemed an even worse idea than telling the truth.


    He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "No, Commander," he admitted, his voice surprisingly steady. "The Count is... dead. Executed. By the Duchess'' hand."


    "Executed!? Over what!?" Eira recoiled in surprise as the grip on her blade staff loosened ever so slightly.


    "Treason," Shaw said, the word heavy on his tongue. "That dark elf, Tharivol, accused Lord Harmswid of defiance in the Duchess and took his head¡­."


    A storm brewed in Elira¡¯s silver eyes as her expression darkened. Her wyvern, sensing the shift in her mood, let out a low, menacing growl, its eyes flickering with a fire mirroring its rider''s anger. The air around them seemed to chill, and the morning''s light did little to dispel the growing tension.


    "Treason?" she echoed, her voice sharp as the blade of her staff. "And you let this happen? You didn''t think to stop them?"


    Shaw flinched under her gaze, the weight of his decisions¡ªand their consequences¡ªbearing down on him. "We couldn''t," he protested, his voice strained. "They had a dragon! An elder, or perhaps even an ancient one! It was unlike anything I ever did see! We wouldn''t even been able to make the monster sneeze, let alone stop ¡®em!!"


    The fire in Eira¡¯s Wyvern¡¯s mouth started to billow with a raise of her hand as her frustration reached a boiling point. "So, you chose to let the murderer of our Lord walk away unscathed and seize his Wyverns under false pretenses!?" Her tone was icy, and each word stabbed at the Knight Captain like a dagger.


    As the wyvern crept closer with its jaw parting slightly letting Shaw see the vortex of flame building within its maw, the knight captain backed away with fear in his eyes. ¡°W-What could I have done against such a monster!?¡± He pleaded with a voice cracking with strain. ¡°Even with yer entire wing, we all woulda been done in! We gone do nothin¡¯ but annoy it!¡±


    Eira sneered dismissively, flicking her hand in a quick gesture that caused her Wyvern to calm down. "Bah!" she exclaimed in frustration. She hated it, but she knew this coward had a point. Fighting even a senior dragon, let alone a young, teenage dragon, would have been suicide for this lot.


    With the Wyvern glaring menacingly at the Knight Captain, Eira''s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the ragtag group of soldiers and mages. Her mind started to race through scenarios, each one ending in disaster if they were to face such a beast head-on. "Feel grateful that I show you mercy, plebian," she finally said, her voice laced with disdain before turning around and rubbing the snout of her Wyvern.


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    ¡°It¡¯s okay, precious¡­ I¡¯ll feed you something more delicious than a dickless coward¡­¡± Eira cooed and soothed her bestial companion and scratched under its chin. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what Count Harmswid was thinking when giving a lowly knave like him hereditary peerage.¡±


    The knight captain gritted his teeth at the insult as Eira let out a derisive sigh. Without another word, the wing commander turned and mounted her Wyvern before looking down at her so-called counterpart with a contemptuous look in her eyes. Shaw, despite his anger and frustration, couldn''t meet her gaze, feeling the sting of her shaming.


    With a harrumph that echoed throughout camp, Eira squeezed her thighs against the wyvern''s flanks. The language of pressure was all the creature needed, recognizing its rider''s keen desire to take flight. In response, the beast¡¯s mighty wings beat the air, and a whirlwind of power kicked up dust and debris. The force of the takeoff was a visceral thrill, propelling Eira and her mount skyward, leaving awestruck faces below.


    As they ascended, the wyvern flock fell into formation behind their leader forming a disciplined wedge, cleaving through the air. They flew eastward, bound for Aldenshore, the rising sun painting long shadows across the land.


    Looking around him, The knight captain worse an expression that told of humiliation. The man clenched his fist as his eyes darted across each face, accusing them of also mocking him before violently swinging his arm to the side and barking orders. ¡°WHAT THE HELL ARE YE ALL LOOKIN¡¯ AT!? GET BACK TO WORK!!¡± In his anger, the knight captain¡¯s hand went to his sword.


    ¡°WE¡¯RE LEAVIN¡¯ IN AN HOUR!¡± With a final bellow, Shaw stormed back towards his tent, obscenities trailing behind him. His men, startled into action, scurried about, the camp abuzz with renewed purpose.


    Meanwhile, still hidden in the foliage with their eyes trained on the chaotic scene, Coleman and his ODA team exchanged glances.


    "That''s a lotta lizards," Bennett whispered with awe evident in his voice.


    "Yaaaa," Lister drawled, "All headed east, following that big-ass bitch."


    Coleman''s brows furrowed, a contemplative hum escaping his lips. "I think this camp is getting ready to move too."


    "Whatcha think they''re running from?" Bennett asked, turning to Coleman and lifting his eyebrow. ¡°Us?¡±


    Offering a simple shrug in reply, Coleman pressed his face back into his specialized surveillance equipment. "Who knows? Maybe they got spooked by the rangers when they raided." He paused, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Regardless, we''re gonna be hitting this place once they piss off."


    Elijah watched the retreating wyverns, his gaze focused on the lead rider.  "That shiny one riding on the flyer¡­ she''s a problem," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of menace. "Got the feel of someone actually competent."


    Coleman nodded slowly, his own gaze fixed on the departing figures. "This the main reason why I want to wait till their long gone. They¡¯re already unloading livestock and what I think is vegetables.¡± He looked over to Elijah as he spoke. ¡°We can slip in, grab what we need, and bug out before anyone knows we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°Ehhh¡­. I¡¯d still like to snatch one of them up,¡± Elijah replied, rubbing the back of his neck and wearing a complicated expression. ¡°There¡¯s a mass exodus heading east, and any information we can get our hands on would be worth its weight in gold." He finished before ripping a piece of jerky in half and sharing it with his patron, who was happily munching away on his shoulder.


    A deep breath of air left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he sat back and thought for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ There¡¯s a lot of the bastards in there.¡± His gaze turned to Kwon, the team¡¯s sergeant, in the hopes that he might have some kind of tactical insight. ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    Folding his arms and looking up at the sky, Kwon let out a contemplative groan and crossed his arms. ¡°Well¡­ I have a few ideas¡­" he drawled. "Why don''t we turn this into a three-pronged attack? We''ve got those Poles further up the road to the east.¡± Kwon¡¯s head gestured towards one of two dirt roads leading into the place.¡° and the Aussies are somewhat near us, right?"


    "We could coordinate an ambush," Kwon continued.  "The Poles brought heavier gear with ¡®em and could cause some serious ruckus in the middle of that convoy.¡± He said, standing up and grabbing a stick.


    Kwon then started drawing a line in the dirt to represent the convey and then drew an arrow interdiction its midsection. ¡°They can Get ''em good and riled up, draw the majority attention away from us while we and the Aussies hit the rear, nabbing anything and anyone worth taking."


    Coleman stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The Commandos would buy us time... and if we just focus on just snatching shit, the rest of the convoy wouldn¡¯t even realize the tail was getting shwacked." He added, nodding thoughtfully.  "I like it."


    "Ya, not bad," Elijah joined in with a wolfish grin, "It''s the kind of chaos that just... feels right, y''know?"


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we bring mortars? We could just start dropping shit on them while the Poles rough them up.¡± Bennett chimed in.


    A thought hum left Coleman¡¯s voice as he wore a face that said he was deliberating on parting with something precious. "Ya, however..." he started with a cautious note in his voice, "We don''t exactly have that many rounds, so we should only use those them for a special occasion."


    Elijah cocked his head, munching on his bit of jerky. "Sure, but... isn¡¯t this pretty much a special occasion? If we''re gonna use ''em, this is the scenario for it."


    Kwon nodded in agreement. "The two goons got a point. Dropping a few surprises in the middle of their convoy while the Poles stir up trouble would pretty much ensure our success.¡± He added while kicking his makeshift battle plan to break it up. ¡°It¡¯s apparent they don¡¯t know how to deal with indirect fire yet, so we should take advantage of it while we can."


    Coleman sighed dreadfully as he hung his head and capitulated to his men. The idea of raining a bit of death and destruction definitely held an undeniable appeal, especially with the fact that it would significantly reduce the chance of casualties. He needed to stop being a miser and use what they had to its fullest extent. "Alright, we¡¯ll use the mortars,¡± he declared, standing up, ¡°We¡¯ll zero for a predesignated spot where the Commandos will engage them, drop a shit load of mortars, and scare the hell outta ''em.¡±


    ¡°However¡­¡± The team leader murmured as he still felt like there were some glaring flaws in the plan. ¡°These shitheads still use magic to augment their physical abilities, so it''s still gonna get dicey¡­ Any idea on how to subdue one of them?¡± Coleman asked, looking around.


    The team fell into a heavy silence, with each member becoming lost in their own thoughts. They had always engaged the enemy from a distance or at least had enough space between them to riddle each prospective warrior with bullets. The question of subduing someone, especially those using magic to enhance themselves, seemed incredibly unwise. Everyone exchanged uncertain looks and collectively shrugged as they acknowledged their lack of a solid plan for non-lethal engagement.


    A heavy silence descended upon the team as everyone looked at each other with eyes the kind laden with uncertainty. They''d always fought these magic users with the buffer of distance. But close up? That was a another question they weren¡¯t too keen on finding out.


    Ever the one to think outside the box, Elijah hummed in interest. "Hey, Yana,¡± he called out tapping the bag of beef jerky that had her little legs sticking out of it. ¡°Do you have any way to drop some dude without, ya know, turning them into crispy a critter?" he asked as her legs kicked angrily at the sudden smack.


    Suddenly her legs sunk into the bag and her tuny head popped out, narrowing her eyes at her insufferable human. ¡°Haahhhh!?!?¡± An irritated and confused look clouded the little fairy¡¯s face, clearly taken aback by the question.


    ¡°Why would I do something so nonsensical and stupid as that!?¡± she retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. ¡°And why are you so insolent all of the time!?¡±


    Unfazed by Yana''s outburst, Elijah met her annoyed gaze with a mischievous and calculating look that flashed across his face for a moment. "Oh, if you can''t do it, then don''t worry about it," he said, his voice dripping with a challenge that insinuated the task was out of her capabilities. He continued, adding fuel to the fire, "If it''s beyond your means, then don''t worry about it. We''ll figure something out."


    Yana stared at him blankly for a few moment. She couldn¡¯t believe the words that left her apostle¡¯s mouth wand was clearly unable to process what was just said. The very implication that something might be beyond her capabilities was not just an affront to her pride, but an insult that couldn¡¯t be left unasnwered. Then, suddenly, her hair billowed like a raging flame, a physical manifestation of her indignation.


    Her reaction was instantaneous and intense. In a blur of motion that caught everyone off guard, she zipped out of the bag of jerky and grabbed a fist full of Elijah''s long hair, yanking on it as she brought her face close to his, her eyes ablaze with a fiery fury. "What do you mean by ''can''t'' and ''beyond my means''!? I am a goddess!" she yelled, her voice a mix of anger and wounded pride. ¡°You insolent little man! You idiot! You dummy!¡±


    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but wince at the deceptively powerful tug. His tactic of provoking Yana into action had worked a little too well. ¡°Ow, ow, ow! Yana, chill!¡± He yelped as she pulled harder, growling at him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! Relax! I believe you¡¯re capable of anything!¡±


    ¡°Hmph!¡± Yana harrumphed as she released her human. "Well, of course I am!" She huffed, crossing her arms and spinning around in annoyance. ¡°The mere fact you questioned my ability is not only unacceptable! But rude! Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude!¡±


    As everyone stared at the two as if they lost their minds, Elijah rubbed his head where Yana had yanked his hair, wincing slightly from the unexpected fierceness of her grip. "God damn..." he muttered under his breath, but a grin still formed on his face. She had taken the bait, but now he had to see if he could reel her in.


    Looking up at the tiny goddess, who was now floating with an air of indignation, Elijah decided to shift gears and aimed to appease her wounded pride. "Well, I just never seen you in action, you know? Maybe you could give your favorite human a demonstration of how magnificent you can be?" His tone was a mix of genuine curiosity and a dash of flattery, hoping to smooth over the ruffled feathers. ¡°Maybe stretch your arms out and test the new strength you¡¯ve been gaining?¡±


    Still hovering with her arms crossed, Yana paused at the request. Her anger momentarily gave way to intrigue. The idea of showcasing her abilities, particularly after having them doubted, was an appealing opportunity to reassert her divine prowess, especially since she had taken a small slice of power from the few souls she had helped pass. Her expression softened slightly, and the flames in her hair dimmed as she considered Elijah''s proposal.


    "A demonstration, you say?" Yana mused, her voice losing some of its earlier sharpness. "I suppose it wouldn''t hurt to remind you mortals of the extent of my power.¡±


    Elijah gave a cheeky grin to the rest of his team, who just stared at him as if he were a madman. ¡°We just need you to make the person I point out squeal in pain while we tie ¡®em up.¡±

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 57

    If there was a word to describe Shaw, it was anxious. Even since he was a lad, he¡¯d been plagued by a paranoia that bordered on illness. He saw shadows where others saw light and whispers where others heard silence. This constant state of vigilance made him a difficult man to know and an even harder man to befriend. His mind was always racing, always strategizing, always expecting the worst. It was both his curse and his salvation.


    Shaw''s upbringing did little to quell these instincts. Born into bondage, he learned early on that trust was a luxury he couldn''t afford. Every friendly gesture was scrutinized, every helping hand inspected for hidden daggers. While isolated, this mindset honed his instincts to a razor''s edge and imbued him with a rare resilience among his peers.


    Even now, he could feel the whispers and jeering of his men. Even though every face was engrossed in their work to get this convoy moving, Shaw could see the mocking gazes. However, whenever he focused in on an individual, they¡¯d always pretend they¡¯d done nothing but work.


    ¡°LIAR!¡± Shaw barked at one young knight who had walked passed him with the reins of a war horse in one hand and those of a worg in another. ¡°Ye think me a fool not to see Yer mutterings! Ye mock me just like that Wyvern whore!¡± He nearly screeched, approaching the young man with an aggressive and accusing finger pointed.


    The young knight flinched away violently from the sudden verbal attack as spittle flew in his face. The horse, startled by the sudden commotion, neighed and dangerously spun around, its hooves threatening to kick. In a frantic effort to get the beast under control, the young knight scrambled, trying to calm the agitated animal while also defending himself against the barrage of accusations.


    "I didn''t say a word, Capt''n!" he protested with a voice laced with panic. "I''m just fetching the mount like I was told." Complete confusion clouded the young knight''s face as he looked around, trying to gauge if others had witnessed the outburst and could offer some explanation for Shaw''s sudden fury.


    But there was no solace to be found in the faces of his comrades. The men and women of Shaw''s command were well accustomed to his paranoia and accusations. They had learned to keep their heads down and continue their work, even when the knight captain laid into them.


    A lesson this poor soul had yet to learn.


    The incident with the young knight was a spark in a tinderbox. Shaw''s anxieties, fueled by the humiliating encounter with Eira and the lingering sting of failure, now burned out of control.  Every shadow seemed to contain a conspiracy, every glance held hidden contempt. His frantic walk towards Lord Harmswid''s tent was marked by further incidents. Warriors, mages, and laborers alike scattered before him, startled by the wild look in his eyes and the incoherent accusations he flung about frivolously.


    Lost in a mental storm, Shaw was oblivious to the fact he was delaying the departure of the convoy with each one of his episodes, and he couldn¡¯t help but curse the incompetents Harmswid stuck him with. With the count now on his mind, the Knight Captain couldn¡¯t help but tighten his grip in frustration. Harmswid was the one who had elevated him to a position of power.


    The count had given him a chance when others had scorned his low birth as a son of a slave. He owed the nobleman everything. But in Shaw''s twisted perception, Harmswid was not a savior but an architect of his misfortune.


    "Harmswid!" The knight captain snarled, his gaze darting around the tent as if seeking out hidden enemies. "Ye deserved everything ye got!! Ye knew about those monsters, and ye sent me to my death!" he continued to have an internal meltdown as he came to a stop in front of the count''s personal tent.


    "She knew..." Shaw muttered, his voice a strangled whisper. "She knew this would happen¡­ she knew they''d be there¡­ that damned beast¡­ That damned whore probably lead them here¡­!¡± Shaw clenched his jaw tightly as he started pacing back and forth in front of the count¡¯s tent. ¡°That¡­ That BACKSTABBER knew it from the beginning and took advantage of the fact I have nothing but these PATHETIC and INCOMPETENT lemmings..."  His hand clenched into a fist, fingernails biting into his thumb so hard that blood started to flow.


    Hyperventilating, Shaw¡¯s vision fixated on the flaps of the tent. He knew all manners of luxurious treasures he couldn¡¯t even fathom were behind those two simple pieces of cloth¡­ All the decadent joys he was denied access to just because of his low birth. The knight captain stepped forward and reached out to push them apart¡­ All he had to do was step inside and take what was rightfully his¡­ but a voice called out before his hand could reach the entrance.


    ¡°M-my lord?¡±


    Shaw snapped around, and half drew his sword, ready to strike down anyone foolish enough to sneak up on him. However, his hand stayed as his eyes settled on a terrified, portly woman who seemed to be cowering, hoping that her head would remain attached to her shoulders. ¡° I-I apoplogize M-My Lord!! T-The convoy is r-ready to depart¡­!¡± She stuttered, flinching back and looking back at the knights standing a ways away for help. But instead of rushing to her aid, the men simply motioned encouragingly for her to continue. ¡°T-They said we¡¯re ¨C¡±


    ¡°Be silent, woman!¡± Shaw shouted, causing the woman to recoil as if struck. Her eyes widened in terror, and for a long moment, Shaw simply glared at her before turning his furious gaze toward the knights standing in the distance. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the muted sounds of the camp preparing for departure.


    Sheathing his sword with an angry clang, the knight captain let out a frustrated breath. "Pathetic whelps..." he spat with a voice full of venom "Too afraid to fight their own battles...and they call me a coward."


    He then turned his back on the woman, dismissing her as a mere annoyance. "Tell them to start, I have my own tasks!" He barked before pausing at the entrance to the tent. "I''ll catch up with the rear if... they''ve managed to put some distance between themselves and me!" He said with a parting sneer just before  he swept into Harmswid''s tent.


    Once inside the luxurious space, Shaw gaze took in a hellish scene. He had expected pure savagery with blood and gore all over the place, but he had to admit what he found scared him more. Everything was as pristine and perfect as when he was last in here except for the headless corpse of the count sitting at his magnifcent desk along with his dismembered bodyguards behind him. Whoever that damned Dark Elf had brought to attack the count didn¡¯t even give them time to blink and cut them down with such clinical precision as speed, Shaw considered they didn¡¯t even fully realize they were being attacked.


    The interior of Lord Harmswid''s tent was an assault on the senses. Accustomed to the austerity of campaign life, even Shaw found the lavishness bordering on obscene.  Rich tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of mythical hunts and fantastical beasts. A bed of cushions and exotic furs was piled in the center on top of plush carpets that would likely fetch a small fortune in any kingdom. A gilded brazier burned with sweet-smelling incense, masking the lingering scent of blood left by the recent attack.


    But the centerpiece of this excessive display was Harmswid''s desk.  A monstrous thing crafted from dark ebony and inlaid with intricate silver designs, it was there that the count conducted his affairs. And it was there he met his end.


    A labored breath left the knight captain''s mouth as he meandered over to the pile of cushions and furs that he realized the count used as a bed and flopped lazily on it. The plush softness swallowed Shaw whole, a stark contrast to the straw-filled pallets and worn linens that were his usual sleeping accommodations. He closed his eyes, letting out another sigh that sounded content. His troubles seemed to recede in this decadent haven for just a moment.


    "How long..." he mused aloud, his voice barely a whisper.  How long had he endured the gnawing hunger, the harsh elements, the constant sting of disrespect? How long had his toil, sweat, and blood lined Harmswid''s coffers and fueled the count''s ambitions?


    The answers were a leaden weight upon his soul.  For over a decade, possibly multiple decades, he had been nothing but a tool, a beast of burden for a man consumed by greed and indifferent to the plight of anyone but his coffers. He had endured it all with stoic obedience, believing that loyalty and hard work would be their own reward.


    But now, lying in a headless count''s bed, surrounded by stolen riches, Shaw''s perspective was shifting. A lifetime of servitude felt like a cruel joke, a mockery of the dreams he''d once held as a boy.  The dreams of honor, of a life worth living... dreams Harmswid and his kind carelessly trampled underfoot.


    The warmth of the furs seeped into Shaw''s weary bones, a delicious lethargy settling over him. As he sank deeper into the cushions, he closed his eyes and made a silent vow: never again would he sweat and strain for another silver-spooned fop. He had played the loyal dog for long enough, and hid reward was always blood and nightmares.


    But now¡­ Now he had a dead man''s riches.


    Now he was done with servitude. He would complete this one final task, this errand for the ''Duchess'', and then...then he would disappear. Vanish into the anonymity of the wider world and start anew.


    His thoughts turned to the multitude of possibilities. Perhaps he could turn his hand to banditry.  With his experience and a few like-minded men, he could strike at supply caravans, prey on those very merchants and nobles who had grown fat on the labor of the common folk. A dark smile played on his lips. There was a certain poetic justice to the idea.


    Or maybe, with the gold he was about to liberate, he could assemble a mercenary company. He knew war, and there was always war to be fought somewhere for the right price. He was never one for righteousness or justice. He was more of a¡­ convenience and practicality kind of man¡­ and with enough coin, he might even earn a reputation and perhaps become someone to be reckoned with.


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    He glanced around the tent, spotting goblets and locked cabinets. There was more to be had here, a fortune that could well and truly set him on his path. But first¡­ he¡¯d like to take a quick rest. Just five minutes of blissful oblivion before he tackled the practical matters of his escape.


    With a sigh that was half exhaustion and half contentment, Shaw closed his eyes. His chaotic


    mind began to drift, and the cares of the day seemed to dissolve in the soft warmth¡­ However, Sleep came for Shaw like a thief in the night. The soft embrace of the furs had been a trap. He had meant only to rest his eyes for a mere moment and gather his thoughts, but instead, he was plunged into a deep, dreamless slumber.


    Shaw threw himself forward as he woke up with a start. He found himself disoriented as he peered around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and flailed forward as if the plush piles of fur stung. How long had he slept? Had the camp already left?


    Panic flared within the knight captain as he rose to his feet. ¡°Curse it all!¡± A scream left the man¡¯s mouth as he burst from the tent like a bat out of hell. With a thumping heart, Shaw¡¯s head snapped from side to side, scanning the scene before him. And what he saw made his blood run cold.


    The encampment was gone. The tents, the wagons, the milling soldiers and servants ¨C all vanished. Only the churned-up earth and trampled grass remained as evidence of the recent whirlwind of activity.


    A wave of despair threatened to overwhelm Shaw. Had he slept for Half an hour? An hour? Half a day? How could he have been so foolish, so carelessly indulgent?  For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, his mind a whirlwind of paranoid thoughts and fear, until a somewhat familiar voice spoke up.


    ¡°Capt¡¯n?¡±


    The voice cut through Shaw''s despair like a knife. He whirled around, his hand going instinctively to the empty space where his sword should have been. For a heart-stopping moment, he feared it was some ambush, some cruel trick of fate.


    But when his eyes focused, he saw the young knight, the one he''d berated so harshly earlier. The lad sat nervously atop a war worg, the creature was a strange blend of a wolf with a hyena-like head. Easily reaching the size of a beast of a horse, it wore a muscular build, and its fur was a mottled gray and brown while its long, thick tail trailed behind it, occasionally smacking the ground with a powerful swat.


    Despite its fearsome appearance, the young knight seemed to handle the creature with ease. He sat confidently in the saddle, his hand rubbing the side of the warg''s thick neck. The beast itself seemed more curious than anything else, its gaze fixed on Shaw with an intelligent glint in its red eyes.


    Most importantly, the reins to another warg were nestled within the lad''s other hand. Taking a cautious step forward, the young man extended his free hand, the reins of the spare warg dangling harmlessly. "S-sir..." he started, his voice strained with trepidation. "The Lieutenant thought you m-might need... a steed..." He swallowed hard, ¡°And¡­ well, the camp had traveled quite a ways by now¡­¡±


    His words seemed to hang awkwardly in the air. Shaw glowered at him, his gaze shifting to the monstrosity at his side, then back again. The young knight braced himself instinctively, expecting another outburst.


    However, Shaw remained silent, albeit for an uncomfortably long moment. The air filled with the unspoken tension of their last encounter as the knight captain glared at the young man. Inside, Shaw was warring with himself. "What''s yer name, boy?" He spoke with a less accusatory and more resigned tone as he approached and took the reigns of the free worg.


    The young knight blinked, startled out of his fearful hunch. While still gruff, Shaw''s change in demeanor caught him off guard. He''d half-expected another paranoid tirade accusing him of insubordination or mockery. Instead, he was being addressed, if not with respect, at least with something resembling acknowledgment.


    "Hugh, sir." He straightened slightly in the saddle, his voice gaining a touch more confidence. "Hugh of Arling,"


    Shaw grunted, a hint of a skeptical smile playing about his lips. "Of Arling, eh? Sounds fancy." He paused as if considering something, then nodded. "Well, Hugh of Arling, you¡¯ve done right by me. But you¡¯re still a bushy-eyed and insufferable shit."


    Hugh¡¯s eye twitched at the insult. He opened his mouth to protest, to ask for some justification behind such a harsh label, but a wiser instinct held his tongue. Arguing with the knight captain, while slightly less volatile at the moment, was a surefire way to end up back on the receiving end of his temper.


    Before Hugh could respond, Shaw had turned his attention back to the warg beside him. He ran a hand over its coarse fur, studying the creature with a critical eye.


    "Never liked these damned beasts," he muttered, his frown deepening. "Sooner to bite yer head off than carry ye reliably."


    With a sigh, Shaw moved around his mount and saw two saddlebags and a visibly empty wooden framed burlap sack attached snuggly to the creature''s rear. A flash of realization crossed Shaw''s face as a cunning glint entered his eyes.  "Stay here, boy!" the knight captain barked as newfound energy filled his voice.  "Keep the worg steady!"


    Before Hugh could fully process the order, Shaw was already darting back into the tent with the empty saddlebags and framed burlap sack in hand. Hugh stared, open-mouthed, as a cacophony of sounds erupted from within. Items clattered against the ground, muffled curses echoed out, and a bout of manic laughter sent shivers down Hugh''s spine.


    For his life, Hugh couldn¡¯t understand what the captain was doing in the name of all that was holy. This was the Count''s tent¡­ was he doing what he thought he was doing? Questions swirled in Hugh''s mind, and his worry grew with each passing moment. If he was¡­ then if Wyvern Commander Eira ever found out¡­ Gods, he would be complicit just for standing here, and there would be no saving them from a fiery end if they weren¡¯t fed outright to that beast.


    Minutes stretched into eternity. Hugh shifted nervously in his saddle. The worg beneath him whined, sensing his anxiety, and the young knight ran a soothing hand over its coarse fur, trying to calm both the beast and himself.


    Just when his nerves were about to fray completely, Shaw burst forth from the tent, his arms laden with the saddlebags and the burlap sack, now bulging at the seams with a mysterious load.


    A manic smile crossed the knight captain''s face. "Hugh!" Shaw shouted, his voice hoarse with excitement. "Help me remount this, will you? We need to make haste!"


    Completely bewildered, Hugh couldn¡¯t help but blink, "Sir, I... I don''t understand... what..." He stammered.


    "No time for questions, boy!" Shaw snapped, his impatience clear. He shoved the saddlebags into Hugh''s hands. "Just do as you''re told!¡±


    Hugh held his tongue, swallowing back the torrent of questions swirling in his mind. The captain''s erratic behavior, the manic glint in his eyes... there was no point in arguing. All he could do was follow orders, hold his tongue and hope word doesn¡¯t make it to Commander Eira.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the two to secure the saddlebags nad make their out of the camp. Their beasts snorted and dug their claws into the ground, tearing down the eastern road at a breakneck pace. Each jarring step causes metallic clinks to echo through the air and


    shimmers of light to leak out of the bulging bags. Riding close behind the captain, Hugh caught a glimpse of the source ¨C  golden goblets and other wares spilling out from a tear, their brilliance amplified by a faint, otherworldly glow.


    There was no mistaking it; Shaw had robbed the long-expired count¡¯s tent, an act of greed and treason that could bring the wrath of the realm down upon them. Especially when he saw the bulging framed burlap sack secured just behind Shaw. It shifted precariously, threatening to spill its contents at any moment. Within its depths, something protruded ¨C a dark, ovoid shape, smooth and almost obsidian in its blackness. Hugh squinted, hoping and praying to every god in every pantheon that it was not what he thought it was, or else Eira would forsake the Empire to hunt them down.


    The two rode hard as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold and crimson. The worgs powerful strides ate up the miles until they soon saw the faint outlines of carriages, horses, and other war beasts, and relief washed over Shaw like a cool balm.


    "Hail!"  Shaw boomed, raising an arm in greeting as two grizzled riders approached from the rear of the convoy. Mounted on war horses, they cut a less terrifying figure than his worg, but their armor gleamed with hard-won practicality.


    The guards stiffened upon seeing him, eyes widening in surprise. "Captain Shaw?" one of them exclaimed. "We thought you¡¯d be at the head of the caravan!¡±


    A mask of nonchalance settled over Shaw¡¯s features. "I was¡­  delayed.¡± He replied in a casual voice. "But all''s well now."


    "Well, sir, it''s good to see you¨C" the other guard started, but Shaw cut him off with a raised hand.


    "And while ye lot left me," he growled scornfully before gesturing towards Hugh, "Hugh of Arling showed spirit and loyalty by remaining with a spare mount." Shaw begrudgingly spoke approval of the young man.


    His men remained silent and cringed under their knight captain''s glare. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Shaw threw himself off his mount and moved to unbuckle the luggage to the rear of his work. "Now¡­" he said, lifting up the framed sack gently and bringing it to the rearmost carriage, "what''s the news? Any trouble on the road?"


    Shaw carefully nestled the burlap sack between furs, extra weapons, and what appeared to be the cart driver''s meager personal effects. There, hidden amongst the mundane, its sinister contents would hopefully remain undiscovered.  Satisfied that his most dangerous cargo was secured, he returned to his worg, where the saddlebags bulged with their promise of stolen riches.


    ¡°A few highwaymen were foolish enough to think us a merchant caravan, Captain," one of the guards answered, his voice weary.  "There were a few small bands of highwaymen, nothing the vanguard couldn''t handle. Too bold for their own good."


    "Morale?" Shaw pressed. This was the key, the weakness he could exploit.


    "The lesser mages are spent," the other guard replied. "The lack of sleep is starting to get to people. And with the fate of the count¡­" he trailed off, his face clouding over with uncertainty.


    Shaw nodded. The count''s death had undoubtedly shaken them. Loyalty was a fickle thing and only reliable when reinforced by wealth and authority. Both were now in question. ¡°Provide them with extra rations and wine¨C¡±


    Just as he ordered, a deafening explosion kicked up earth and debris further ahead of Shaw. Even from a distance, the shockwave shook Shaw¡¯s very bone. Dust filled the air, mingling with panicked shouts and the maddened cries of beasts.


    His first instinct was to glance upwards, searching the twilight for the telltale silhouettes of wyverns. But the sky above remained clear. ¡°Eira ain¡¯t attackin¡¯ us¡­ Then who!?¡±. Shaw¡¯s eyes darted across the caravan, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack.


    More blasts erupted, tearing through the heart of the convoy, but this time, the explosions were followed by strange sounds¡­ An unending series of echoing cracks and snaps in a staccato rhythm, like a thousand angry hornets beating their wings in unison.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 58

    ¡°What in the hell is goin¡¯ on!?¡± Shaw¡¯s bark echoed through the stillness that had fallen over the rear guard as confusion and uncertainty gnawed at their hearts


    One by one, footmen, knights, and mages clambered out of their carriages or guided their mounts to get a better venue to look at the unfolding catastrophe. "What sorcery is this!?¡± One grizzled veteran said as more explosions kicked up.


    ¡°Since when in the hells did highwaymen recruit skilled mages?" another voice cut through the cacophony.


    "Skilled mages?!" A young mage sputtered. "You think mere bandits could entice anyone powerful enough to do this!?¡±


    Another mage on horseback pushed through the growing crowd in worn armor that spoke of years of service. Unlike his contemporaries, there was no panic in his eyes, only a strange, burning intensity as he scanned the area for mana. "These are no mages¡­" he informed in a low and deliberate voice. ¡°Not a hint of mana in the air.¡±


    Shaw sensed a shift in the rising chaos ¨C that sliver of clarity transformed a tense unease into a storm. "Quiet!" Shaw roared, his voice silencing the panicked discussions. "I don¡¯t care this magic or it ain¡¯t!¡±


    Tremors ran through the convoy for each consecutive explosion, causing both men and animals to stir and yelp. Shaw wrestled with his own surge of fear. He was no mage or learned man, but he¡¯d seen enough to know this kind of effect only came from older and more powerful beings. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice into a semblance of steadiness.


    "Whatever it is, it has us cut off from the rest of the convoy, so we gotta fight it like any other foe!" Shaw bellowed as he jumped onto his warg. "Lieutenant Dalion, get yer men in order! Sergeants, start whippin¡¯ those who dally! Spears forward and shields up!¡±


    His men immediately spurred into action at their knight captain¡¯s barked orders. Fear transformed into a frenzied, desperate energy.  Footmen with pikes, knights with magic imbued weapons and shields formed a bristling wall, and mages scrambled to get into the center of the formation and began chanting spells. Meanwhile, the mounted cavalry shifted in order to find a better way to engage the enemy in such a narrow stretch of road that was flanked by trees.


    Shaw and his men listened to the echoes of the mysterious weaponry as they continued to organize and prepare themselves to interdict whatever was attacking them. The squad leaders rallied their men, and the section leaders spoke amongst themselves, trying to devise a plan as the explosions kept rocking the center of the Convoy. No one truly knew what was happening or what to expect, but they all knew the explosions weren¡¯t random. They seemed targeted, methodical even. It was as if whoever was behind this had a clear objective in mind, seeing they hit nowhere else except the center.


    With a shield wall formed, the main body of footmen started to advance towards the roar of battle. The convoy had ground to a complete halt, bathed in the eerie glow cast by the setting sun and lingering fires from the attacks. As the reinforcements closed in, warriors, mages, and laborers alike huddled behind whatever cover they could or scoured the shadows. The air buzzed with a volatile mix of fear, confusion, and the screams of the wounded as they sprawled across the ground.


    "Shields up! Eyes forward!" One of the sergeants thundered. His men raised their shields in unison, forming a barrier while the mages in the rear frantically cast protective wards.


    Shaw maneuvered his warg through the thick ranks of mounted skirmishers until he reached their leader. "Lieutenant," The knight captain¡¯s voice cut through the din of the advancing cavalry. "Focus on collecting the wounded! Yer boys won''t be much use in a fight in these woods! Secure our fallen, then move them to the rear!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!" The Lieutenant nodded his understanding before the rough man turned to his mounted subordinates. ¡°Ye, heard the man! Git yer arse¡¯s movin¡¯!¡± He issued orders and directed a portion of the skirmishers to the uncontested side of the convoy.


    With the mounted cavalry pushing forward, Shaw pulled back on his wargs reins, causing the beast to spin violently, nearly throwing the man off. Having ridden horses his entire life, Shaw wasn¡¯t anywhere near accustomed to the sheer aggression in which a warg moved.


    Cursing under his breath, the knight captain leaned forward and tightened his thighs around the beast as it took off into an unbelievably fast sprint back toward the rear, where the lesser mages were recuperating. He needed them in the fight, and he needed them now.


    As he approached, Shaw could see the weariness in their postures and the uncertainty in their eyes. There were a few young elite men and women, inexperienced in the brutal realities of war, but most of them were grizzled veterans who had seen campaign after campaign. However, both novice and veteran seemed to tremble at the sight of explosion magic.


    Shaw dismounted with a fluid grace born of years on the battlefield, his presence commanding immediate attention. He stood before the mages, and his gaze swept over them, taking in every detail. He knew whatever was attacking them wielded strange and alien magic, but he needed his magic users to be more than they believed they could be.


    "Mages!" Shaw''s voice boomed, cutting through the air with the sharpness of a blade. "On your feet! I don¡¯t care how tired you are or how scared you are! We need every spell, every shield you can muster. This enemy is unlike any we''ve faced, but we are the shield that guards the realms of men!"


    He paced in front of them, his eyes locking with each of theirs in turn. "Ye trained for this, studied for this! Now is the time to show the strength of yer conviction! Chant yer incantations, weave your spells!¡± Shaw tried to spur them on and saw nothing but exhausted faces.


    ¡­


    Letting out a low growl, the knight captain then turned to one of the veterans among the mages, a grizzly character known for his cantankerous nature. ¡°Darjen! Get these miserable lots up!" Shaw barked, pointing an accusatory finger at the man.


    Darjen, upon hearing his name called out in such a demanding tone, heaved yet another tired sigh, a sign of resignation rather than defiance. He knew there was no arguing with Shaw, especially not in the midst of a crisis. Despite his reputation for being a lazy curmudgeon, the mages of the count retinue still respect Darjen for his skill and expertise. Especially since he was bestowed the rank of Adept Mage by the Guild of Magus.


    "All right, you heard the captain," Darjen addressed the beleaguered mages around him with an authoritative yet lethargic grumble. "Up on your feet, everyone. We''re not here to be easy targets. If you can stand, you can fight. If you can breathe, you can cast."


    The lesser mages began to stir with their feet from his gruff encouragement. Oddly enough, that served as a better rallying cry than their captain''s more¡­ impromptu speech. As they started to pick themselves up as dust off their light armor, the weariness in their eyes was replaced by a flicker of resolve. It was a testament to Darjen¡¯s influence despite his often more¡­ contentious relationship with them.


    Darjen didn''t waste any time. Familiar with command, he began organizing the mages into a more cohesive unit. "There ya go, you miserable pieces of shites!! I want barriers up at all times and towards the treeline¨C¡± His words abruptly stopped as several small, green ball-like objects, the size of fists, were tossed at the feet of the greatest concentrations of their group.


    Without a second thought, Darjen¡¯s instincts kicked in. He aggressively motioned his hands upwards, and in response, a great wall of earth violently jutted out of the ground. The sudden movement threw several people off balance, and a few of the lesser mages were sent flying high into the sky.


    Just the cries of surprise and terror resounded from the sudden spell; numerous bone-rattling blasts erupted, each explosion sending shockwaves through the ground and threatening to shatter Darjen''s hastily erected earthen wall. The air filled with the smell of scorched earth and the horrid screams of the wounded after whatever that horrid sorcery caused those dark green orbs to detonate.


    With ringing in his ears and a crumbing wall, Darjen quickly assessed the situation. While a decent number of lesser mages had been saved with his quick thinking, a large majority were on the other side. However, that small bombardment wasn¡¯t the other thing to grace the rear guard. This time, the incessant barking chatter erupted from their treeline this time and it spoke of an enemy ambush that was far from finished.


    Knowing that the earthen barrier wouldn''t hold against another volley of those mysterious green orbs, Darjen knew he had to act fast. With a deep breath, he concentrated, drawing upon the depths of his arcane knowledge. An advanced incantation formed on his lips, ancient words of power resonating with the energy thrummed with each syllable.


    As he twisted his hands in a circular motion before spreading them outwards, he manifested a powerful barrier. Shimmering blue hexagons appeared in front of him, interlocking with each other and arching in a protective dome that covered 180 degrees in every direction. The spell pulsed with magical energy, forming a barrier far stronger and more intricate than the simple wall of earth.


    Just as Darjen completed his spell, the barrier''s flank lit up with an intensity that mirrored the stars of a clear night sky. Projectiles, unseen but obviously potent, slammed into the hexagonal shield with the ferocity of a horde of angry bees attacking a window. The force was as relentless as it was draining, and the Adept Mage knew he had to act fast.


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    Meanwhile, Shaw, having been caught off guard by the sudden erection of the earthen wall, found himself sprawled on the ground in a momentary daze. His initial reaction was one of confusion, followed quickly by a surge of unfounded paranoia. In his disoriented state, he began to shout, accusing the Wyvern Commander of setting them up, his voice a cacophony of rage and confusion amidst the chaos.


    But Darjen could spare no attention for the knight captain¡¯s delirious accusations. His focus was entirely on whatever in the infinite hells was peppering his shield. With the projectiles continuing their assault, he knew they needed a more aggressive response. His arms were still outstretched from casting the barrier, and With a booming thunderclap that seemed to shake the very air around them, Darjen slammed his hands together. The result was explosive, both literally and figuratively. The wall detonated outward like a shotgun blast, sending rocks, boulders, and massive clumps of earth hurtling toward the enemy with lethal velocity.


    Yelps of pain and yelling could be heard from the treeline as a wide grin spread across Darjen face, but his smile soon faded as he witnessed the next scene unfold before his eyes. It was, without a doubt, the worst thing Darjen could possibly imagine facing. He''d rather confront a rampaging dragon than the infernal creature hovering in front of the tree line. There, floating with rapidly beating wings, was a small Pixie-like creature, except its head was crowned with fire instead of hair, and its eyes were a dreadful violet hue that seemed to pierce through one''s soul with malevolent intent.


    But it wasn''t just the creature that chilled Darjen to the bone; it was the magic it used. An innumerable amount of strange barriers, shaped like multifaceted pyramids, continuously collapsing in on each other and simultaneously explode outwards. The damned thing looked to have more dimensions than a demonic sorcerer. These strange barriers intercepted the majority of the debris Darjen had launched forward, absorbing the earth and rock in a way that defied understanding. The projectiles seemed to vanish or disintegrate upon contact with these otherworldly shields, leaving no trace of their existence.


    ¡°THE FAE!!¡± Darjen screamed as he saw the monster''s hand flick upwards. ¡°POWER TO ME!!¡±


    Just as he shouted, a section of the creature''s barrier shattered, and at the same time a horrible, high-pitched laughter seemed to tear through the air. The sound was not just audible; it was a physical force, causing those nearby to clutch their ears in agony. Shaw, closest to the epicenter of the strange assault, collapsed to the ground, seemingly alight with a violet flame. The flame neither wounded nor consumed, but it caused the knight captain to writhe in pain and let out a shrill scream in the face of the fae''s cruel magic.


    The surviving lesser mages, witnessing the fae''s devastating attack, didn''t hesitate a second longer nor wait to be prompted a second time. Drawing deep from their reserves of power, they funneled every ounce of their energy into reinforcing the shield, like a dam opening its gates to release a flood. Their combined magic surged towards the barrier, strengthening it in a desperate bid to ward off further attacks from the vile monstrosity.


    However, their efforts seemed almost futile when the fae, with contemptuous ease, raised its other hand, pointing a slender finger directly at Darjen. The adept mage, already bracing for impact, didn''t properly hear the sound that followed; his eardrums immediately burst as the loudest crack of thunder imaginable resounded, shattering nearly every layer of the combined defenses. The force of the blast sent him flying away, tumbling through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane.


    Darjen''s world became a blur of pain and disorientation as he was violently thrown through the air. He couldn''t hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. However, he saw the horrid and ancient bolt of magic. This was not just any bolt of lightning but a cascade of pure, destructive magical energy. Darjen didn¡¯t even have the hubris to say the combined strength of 10 lesser mages and an adept warded off the spell.


    No¡­ it ricocheted¡­


    The barrier had simply deflected the devastating bolt and sent it shooting further up the convoy. The destruction was immediate and catastrophic, with both man and beast being torn asunder in a gruesome display of power as wagons shattered into scorched fragments, showering the remainders as shrapnel.


    Hitting the ground with a painful thud, Darjen acted out of pure reflex. He immediately threw up his hands, channeling the remainder of his power to conjure earthen walls around him as he started to roll his body toward the opposing treeline. In quick succession, walls rose just in time, as bolt after bolt of lightning, each one as deadly as the last, slammed into his makeshift defenses, obliterating one after another in a relentless assault. The impacts sent shockwaves through the ground as the earth below him absorbed most of the power, but Darjen''s quick thinking spared him from the brunt of the attack.


    Pushing himself up mid-tumble Darjen sprinted as fast as his injured form would allow into the trees. Each step was agony, but the will to survive drove him forward. He knew he was severely outmatched. Hell, the fae''s power dwarfed his own and everyone he could remember COMBINED.


    Behind him, the chatter of strange weapons and explosions became muffled as he pushed through the darkness of the forest. The convoy was more than certain to fall, but those were not his concern now. He had to get away from that arcane horror.


    ¡°God-fucking-damnit! I¡¯m hit!¡± Silva, the Communications Sergeant, growled angrily as he pulled himself off the front line and dipped behind a tree while pulling off his gear. ¡°Fuck!¡± He yelled, completely furious, ripping open his IFAK (Individual First Aid Kit) as he slid into a small depression in the earth for cover. Following closely into the depression were three operators from the Australian SASR, two of them also wounded, and the last, a medic, quickly helping everyone apply tourniquets.


    The cacophony of rifle and machine gun fire merged with the crackles of strange magical energy, maintaining a constant roar that made it challenging to hear even with electronic ear protection. Explosions from grenades and mortars shook the very ground, sending dirt and debris flying everywhere, and amidst the chaos, Yana''s display of power had been a turning point. The overwhelming spell she had cast cut through enemy lines like a hot knife through butter, sowing fear and confusion that only fueled the special operations force¡¯s aggression.


    It didn¡¯t much longer for the ODA and SASR operators to push from their concealed positions and maneuver on the convoy in a bid to quickly secure their objectives. Coleman and the joint team had found their way to the last cart, and an Australian machine gunner right next to him went full cyclic, spitting out hate down the length of the convoy.


    "Baron 2, this is Baron Actual! ETA!?"  Coleman shouted over the din of battle as he pressed down on his push-to-talk.


    Just as he finished the transmission, a massive shard of ice whistled through the air, nearly impaling the man and lodging itself deep within the carriage. Coleman and the Australian had both flinched away in a bid to duck for cover.


    "OH!! FUCKIN¡¯ DICKHEAD!!" The startled SASR operator yelled out before turning his Knight''s Armament Company LAMG towards the offender and returning fire.


    As the mage who cast the ice spell quickly scrambled back into cover, Coleman''s radio crackled to life. "Baron Actual, this is Baron 2; we''re rounding the corner now!" Kwon¡¯s voice resounded across the net as the second phase of the ambush was about to commence.


    Barreling around the bend of the dirt road came two Ground Mobility Vehicles (GMVs) and their arrival not a moment too soon. As Coleman and his team held their ground, several contingents of mounted enemies, riding large creatures that were a terrifying cross between hyenas and wolves, charged down the less contested side of the convoy.


    The lead GMV immediately swung into action. The vehicle''s side-mounted M240 machine guns roared to life, belching out a deadly stream of bullets while the .50 cal gunner pulled back on the charging handle of the heavy machine gun and pressed down on the paddles. Above the incessant chatter of the M240s, the distinct, deep thump of the .50 caliber machine gun barked out, immediately cutting down the vanguard before they could even get close. Bodies of both man and beast tumbled as the rest scattered in panic.


    In the midst of this pandemonium, Eli, Bennett, and two Australian operators found themselves in a desperate struggle atop their writhing target. Despite their best efforts to subdue him through a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps, the man continued to thrash violently, seemingly tossing them about like children.


    ¡°FUCKIN`!¡± Elijah growled as he slid across the ground before getting up into a run and kicking the armored man in the face as hard as he could.


    The scene was a chaotic mess. Four highly trained operators were unable to gain control over one semi-incapacitated individual, and frustration mounted as each blow seemed to do nothing. Looking up from the melee, Eli saw Yana hovering above the fray with a tired yet jubilant look on her face.


    "Can you fuckin'' stop whatever it is you''re doing to this dude!? We can''t get him to stop moving!" Her apostle shouted as an Australian yelped, flying past him.


    Yana, spinning around with a perplexed expression, "I''m burning his mana, ya idiot! Unless you wanna fight him all topped up, then just wait!" She retorted in an annoyed tone.


    Elijah threw up his arms in exasperation, his patience wearing thin amidst the chaos. "Can you speed it up!? We ain''t got time for this shit!" he yelled back at Yana, frustration evident in his voice as the battle raged on around them.


    Yana looked back down at her insufferable apostle with an even more irritated expression that said she wanted to pull his stupid hair. "Hmph! Fine! Don''t blame me if he dies then!" she replied sharply.


    Before anyone could react, the violet flames that had been dancing around the armored figure suddenly intensified, turning into an inferno that startled everyone trying to subdue him. The operators threw themselves backward to avoid being caught in the blaze while Elijah watched in a mix of horror and fascination as Yana descended. He wanted to protest, to call her off, but he decided to trust his small patron and turned his attention back towards the ongoing fight.


    As Elijah took shots at anyone foolish enough to pop their head out, something within the battle-damaged cart caught his attention. He noticed a strange blue gleam through a small bullet hole.


    Unable to contain his curiosity, Elijah quickly glanced over his shoulder to ensure Yana and the others were still managing the situation; he made a split-second decision. His hands reached out and grabbed the cart''s badly damaged tailgate, and with a powerful pull, Elijah snapped it off.


    Inside, amidst the scattered supplies and remnants of the tattered contents, Elijah''s eyes widened at the assortment of loot before him. The cart was laden with treasures. Expensive-looking flasks filled with liquids of every color promised any egg heads at home would lose their minds in excitement. Golden tableware, despite the dim light, gleamed with an enticing luster that Elijah was sure no one was going to miss if a few found their way into his pack. Alongside these larger treasures were hefty coin pouches that seemed ull to the brim with the promise of wealth. All of which were covered by rough furs and a random mix of personal effects.


    However, amidst the riches, one item seized Elijah''s attention above all else: a strange black egg-like object, the size of a chest, barely visible under a torn sack with a broken frame. Its surface was glossy, absorbing the ambient light and creating an aura of mystery and power that was impossible to ignore.


    Suddenly an Australian voice shouted, "Bingo! Target secured!" through his headset.


    Elijah snapped his attention back to the man he was trying to help subdue and watched as Bennett and the two Australian operators hog-tie their now limp target.


    As he heard the team start to stuff the knight-like individual into the GMV, Elijah couldn¡¯t help but smirk. ¡°Yoink, bitch!¡± he called out in glee as he began to gather the valuables.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 59

    Darkness was the fate of all existence. No shapes, no sounds, nor sensations beyond the oppressive weight of infinite nothingness. Within it hung a clot of consciousness, a memory older than the history of this realm''s new wardens. Its existence was not sleep but a stagnant approximation, a dull ache with no source, like the phantom pain of a long-lost limb.


    There, gently floating comfortably in the void, a single memory twitched. A solitary spark amidst the endless dark. It pulsed softly, a lone neuron firing gently amidst a dormant network. Within it, a fragment of a world, a fleeting echo of existence that this memory and many like it sought since their inception:


    A vibrant city bustling with life and adventure. Laughter and music that caused one to break into dance. Love of a doting partner. Hatred for a spiteful enemy.


    The memory flickered, then faded, leaving only a faint echo in the void. The lich, for a fleeting moment, stirred. A single, primal instinct flared, screaming at it not to survive but instead to¡­ live.


    Suddenly, an arcane scream tore through the stillness.


    The scream was less of a sound and more of a force. A force of malice and mischief that burst forth like a fiery explosion in the dead of night. The multitude of other fragments of memory pulsed from its violence, and within the network, something jerked. The taste of that scream... potent, chaotic, promising an unmaking of the endless black. It was familiar, agonizingly so. It bore the same signature as the power that pulled this ancient soul from oblivion and bound it in brittle bone.


    Then, it was gone. The network of memories pulsed within the stillness, waiting. Was this a summons? A test? Or nothing more than a cruel echo of the past? For eons, this collection of memories¡­ this eternal one had known nothing but its muted existence and the void since the great sundering. Now, a hunger bloomed within, a desperate craving that had once reshaped its world. It waited in the aching silence, bones coiled tight, for its master - its tormentor - its salvation - to show another sign.


    At that moment, the discordant symphony ricocheted across the void. Though it had vanished as swiftly as it appeared, it still sparked a long-forgotten storm. But the scream had ignited a beacon. The scattered memories were like stars in the void that began to slowly be sucked back into the core of the being¡¯s consciousness.


    One by one, the nodes of its mind found each other, drawn together by an invisible force, a longing for completeness that transcended time and the abyss. As they converged, a flurry of activity sparked across the entire network. Memories once isolated and adrift were now intertwined, knitting together the fabric of a consciousness that had lain fragmented for eons.


    With each connection, the consciousness grew stronger and more coherent. Images and thoughts, and muted emotions that had been mere whispers in the dark coalesced into a loud, harmonious chorus.


    This newborn, yet ancient, being reached out. Not with hands but with the tendrils of its forming mind. It swept through the void, not seeking another scream but just an echo. Even a whisper to confirm that the power that had jolted it into existence had once again brought itself back into existence.


    Like a blind creature learning to use its ears, the lich listened. Not for sound, as there was none, but for the tremors in the nothingness. The reverberations of the scream had faded, but it had learned something crucial: The void wasn''t empty. Within it moved currents of energy, unseen and unfelt until that moment. This couldn¡¯t have been a fluke. It couldn¡¯t have been a cruel trick of memory. The being knew the scream was real.


    Days slithered into weeks, and weeks stretched into months. The being in question had no concept of time as the world knew it, only the ebb and flow of energy within the void. But it still found itself impatiently searching every stray flicker of sensation that flowed in the void tirelessly. Yet, there was nothing. No echo, no scream, not even a whisper.


    Frustration started to build up in the core of the ancient being like an impossibly cold ember. It wasn¡¯t quite the rage of a predator that was denied its prey but a gnawing, unsettling certainty.  Perhaps the scream had been a cruel trick of its memory. A last, desperate reverberation of its memory flickering into life before fading back into obscurity. And with that realization that the scream was a phantom born from its desire to reconnect with a purpose long since faded.


    It settled back into the void. Not in defeat, but in acceptance. The nodes in the mind pulsed slower as its search for meaning gave way to a familiar ache¡­ disappointment.


    Then, it came. Not a scream, not even a whisper¡­ but the subtle shivers in the veil. A flicker of dissonance not unlike the fading echo of the first scream but far softer and laced with a burst of strange laughter that was both quiet and chilling.


    The timeless being jolted to life. Not its body but its very essence. For interwoven with the laughter was power as raw as it was chaotic and burned away the arcane with a venomous joy.


    As the tendrils of the being''s consciousness brushed against the faint echo of power, a surge of energy ripped through its core. It was a jolt that echoed through the very fabric of its being, a violent awakening that pulsed with the intensity of a supernova. Once devoid of any light, two empty sockets within the creature''s skull abruptly flickered to life. Within them, two violet orbs pulsed with an otherworldly luminescence, casting an eerie light upon a skeletal visage.


    With deliberate and purposeful movements, the being¡¯s skeletal form, clad in flowing black robes that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, pulsed with magical energy that seemed to emanate from within. Its eyeless gaze swept across the void and pierced the very fabric of nothingness. And with a wave of its skeletal hand, a wave of flame erupted forth, banishing the oppressive darkness.


    The flames seemed to consume the void itself, not with mindless destruction but with a purifying intensity. Cobwebs disintegrated, dust danced in the flickering light, and any lingering creature was consumed without a sound.


    Yet, the destruction served a purpose. With the chambers fully illuminated, the room is full of breathtaking intricate, arcane wonders. The walls were adorned with complex geometric patterns that pulsed with a soft, ethereal glow. Each line and curve seemed to hold a purpose, a hidden meaning that whispered of ancient magic and long-forgotten constructs.


    Embedded within the walls were devices of unimaginable power and sophistication. Crystalline orbs, each the size of a human head, hovered delicately in metal cradles. They thrummed with energy, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. Intricate metal pipes, etched with runes that shimmered in the flickering light, snaked along the walls, carrying currents of pure arcane essence.


    With each step the lich took, the intricate geometric patterns on the walls seemed to come alive, shifting and turning in response to its presence. The ethereal glow intensified, pulsing in rhythm with the lich''s strides as if the room itself was welcoming back its master after eons of dormancy.


    The lich''s form itself was a sight to behold. Its towering stature and elongated limbs exuded an aura of raw dread, while its pristine skull, with its angular jaw and imposing visage, spoke of ancient regality.


    Even the long flowing black robes it wore were a work of art. Shimmering with arcane patterns, the robes enveloped the Lich¡¯s form as they shimmered with an otherworldly sheen. Each movement caused the robes to ripple and flow like liquid shadows, casting mesmerizing patterns across the chamber walls.


    As the lich approached the center of the room and towards one of the crystalline orbs that hovered in their metal cradles, and reached out to touch it. But before beings long fingers could touch it, a raspy feminine voice suddenly cut through the sound of magical hums and licks, "I''m already here, Ythrak," the voice said, with a timbre that was both exotic and sultry.


    Ythrak, the ancient lich whose mere presence would cause even lesser gods to tremble in fear, turned its skeletal head toward the source of the disturbance. There, against the chamber wall, leaned a figure that seemed to defy his commanding aura with a casual shrug. The newcomer turned out to be the very vision of dark allure, with beauty as undeniable as her authority. Her skin was a porcelain white in contrast to the ornate red and black garments that adorned her form, hugging curves in a manner that spoke of both regality and seduction.


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    Her crimson eyes glowed, relics of a lifespan rivaling Ythrak''s. Yet, it was the graceful sweep of her horns that held an ivory shimmer, yet strangely light-devouring, that transfixed him. These horns, coupled with her porcelain skin and crimson eyes, left no doubt as to her Vampiric nature.


    With a casual grace that belied her power, the woman gently pushed off the wall and began a slow, deliberate walk toward Ythrak. As she moved, she tilted her head from side to side, stretching languidly like a cat waking from a long nap. Her delicate fingers brushed a speck of soot from her long, pointed ear, a subtle gesture that hinted at her displeasure.


    "I must say, I didn''t quite appreciate being set aflame like the vermin you so thoroughly incinerated," she remarked, her melodic voice tinged with a hint of reproach. Despite her words, there was a playful glint in her eyes, suggesting that her annoyance was tempered by a deeper understanding.


    Ythrak regarded the vampiress for a long moment, his glowing violet orbs taking in every detail of her appearance. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, nearly brushing the floor as she moved. The lich found himself momentarily transfixed by how the arcane light played across her hair, casting shimmering highlights that seemed to dance with each step.


    Finally, Ythrak spoke, his voice resonating with an arcane power that seemed to make the very air tremble. "My apologies, dear Synael," it spoke with carefully measured words. "It has been quite some time since I last walked among the realm of flesh. I''m afraid my control is not what it once was."


    There was a hint of something more in his words - a touch of melancholy, perhaps, or a sense of long-buried memories stirring to life. For a being as ancient and powerful as Ythrak, the passage of time was a complex thing, filled with countless lives and epochs that blurred together in an endless tapestry.


    Synael let out an exasperated "Hmph," her crimson eyes narrowed slightly at Ythrak''s apology. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a lock of her raven hair over her pointed ear, the silken strands catching the arcane light and shimmering like a cascade of obsidian.


    "I shall forgive you this once, Ythrak," she conceded, her melodic voice carrying a note of indulgence. "On account of your slumber spanning thousands of years." There was a hint of amusement in her tone as if the idea of the great lich requiring forgiveness was a novelty in itself.


    With a grace that seemed to defy the laws of mortality, Synael glided past Ythrak, her bare feet stepping lightly over the thrumming arcane devices that pulsed with ancient power. "I''m assuming you felt something from our rather¡­ estranged little mistress?" Synael asked almost bitterly as her gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the intricate carvings and pulsing geometric patterns that adorned the walls.


    Ythrak inclined his head, the gesture somehow conveying a mix of acknowledgment and contemplation. "Indeed," the Lich added with a reverberating voice. "It was just a few murmurs, but I have no doubt that the High Judge has broken free."


    There was a weight to his words. For creatures as attuned to the ebbs and flows of magic as it was, even the subtlest ripples in the fabric of reality could not go unnoticed.


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Synael hummed in interest as she spun around with an air of nonchalance. With her hands clasped behind her back, the Vampiric being¡¯s bare feet moved with deliberate grace as she stepped gingerly over the thrumming arcane devices and navigated to the rear of the room.


    Synael''s gaze was drawn to a peculiar mechanism that stood out among the rest. It was a vault of sorts, crafted from a brass-like metal that seemed to pulse with an inner life. Violet light seeped from its seams, a radiant energy that strained against its confines as if desperate to break free.


    And as the woman approached the vault, a smug smirk played on her lips while her demeanor remained outwardly relaxed. Yet, if one took a closer look, they¡¯d see the subtle signs of tension. Her crimson eyes sharpened, their glow intensifying as they fixated on the pulsating light. Her breaths grew shallow, as a hint of anticipation crept into her usually unflappable composure.


    For a long moment, she simply stared at the device, her gaze locked with the writhing violet energy as a rare sensation grew in her chest¡­


    Anxiety.


    ¡°Are you certain¡­?¡± She finally spoke after a long bout of silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could there be any room for misinterpretation?" The question hung in the air as her eyes remained locked onto that pulsating energy that was trying to break free.


    Ythrak moved to stand beside her, his towering form casting a shadow across the room. The violet orbs pulsated within his skull as he, too, gazed upon the straining energy. "There can be no doubt," it answered with a voice that resonated with the weight of centuries. "I can no longer even detect that repulsive blackened spire that once held her."


    Synael let out a contemptuous laugh, the sound echoing through the chamber with a bitter edge. The prospect of their mistress running free, unbound by the constraints that had held her for so long, was not a situation she relished. Especially since they couldn''t ascertain her whereabouts, it spelled a brand new set of problems for them to deal with.


    If they, with all their arcane might and ancient wisdom, couldn''t locate their mistress, then it was unlikely that anyone else could. And that, in itself, posed a significant challenge. The gods, ever watchful and quick to assign blame, would more than likely be breathing down their necks, suspecting that they had played a role in her release.


    With furrowed brows, Synael contemplated the implications. The mortals of this realm already had a rather disfavorable view of their kind. It has gone to the point where they would look to exterminate them whenever possible, so the political maneuverings and power struggles that would ensue weren¡¯t something she looked forward to navigating. Yet, amidst the frustration and apprehension, she couldn''t help but feel a flicker of grudging appreciation.


    For all her chaotic whims and unpredictable nature, their mistress had once again managed to elicit a response from Synael. A response that the woman hadn''t experienced in a very long time... emotion. Granted, it was a negative emotion, a mix of irritation and dread, but it was a sensation nonetheless. In a world where centuries could pass without a flicker of genuine feeling, even the most unpleasant of emotions could be a welcome change.


    As a sigh of resignation left Synael¡¯s, the woman turned to face Ythrak. "I shall prepare this necropolis for war," she declared in an exasperated voice. "We should also send warnings to our brothers and sisters to do the same. If our mistress is indeed loose upon the world, we must be ready for the chaos that will inevitably follow."


    Ythrak lowered his head in contemplation, the violet orbs within his eye sockets dimming slightly as it processed Synael''s words. They were in a delicate situation where any wrong move may cause all the feuding gods and mortals to unite and march on every Necropolis they could find. The fate of the Unseelie courts weighed heavily on their shoulders, and they had to tread carefully.


    For a long moment, the lich remained silent while his skeletal form became as still as a statue. It was as if it were delving deep into the recesses of his ancient mind, sifting through the countless lifetimes of knowledge and experience stored within.


    Finally, after what felt like several minutes, Ythrak slowly and deliberately nodded. "Of course, that is most prudent," The lich voiced in a way that seemed to echo throughout the room. "We must prepare for the worst, even as we hope for the best."


    There was a hint of weariness in his words, a sense of the toll that the endless cycles of conflict and chaos had taken on him. Yet, beneath that weariness lay an unbreakable resolve, a determination to see their duty through, no matter the cost.


    "I will begin the preparations here," Ythrak continued, his gaze sweeping across the arcane devices and ancient tomes that lined the chamber''s walls. "There are rituals to be performed, wards to be strengthened. The covens and crypts scattered about may fall if the worst comes to pass. Still, we must at least ensure that this necropolis remains a bastion and sanctuary for all the Unseelie."


    Synael chuckled in amusement as she turned away from Ythrak, the soft taps of her bare feet echoing through the chamber as she made her way toward the exit. The ancient walls seemed to respond to her presence, and the intricate patterns rippled and shifted as if they were alive.


    As she approached the doorway, the very structure of the room began to change. Small cubes and blocks popped out from the walls, rolling and rearranging themselves to create a clear path for her. It was as if the necropolis itself was bowing to her will, acknowledging her authority and power.


    Pausing at the threshold, Synael''s hand rested lightly on the doorframe as she glanced back over her shoulder at Ythrak. A mischievous glint in her crimson eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, she tossed her raven hair over one of her horns, causing the silken strands to catch the eerie light of the chamber.


    "Don''t worry about that, sleepy head," she said with a voice that carried a teasing note. "I''ll have that all taken care of."


    "While you locked yourself away for the past few thousand years or so¡­" she continued, her tone almost teasing, "I''ve been busy keeping things in order. The covens, the crypts, the armies of the Unseelie in this region... they all answer to me now."


    While full of pride, her declaration harbored no unjustified arrogance, merely a matter-of-fact acknowledgment of the authority she wielded. While the lich had sequestered himself away, keeping a watchful eye on the gods and their capricious mistress, Synael had been busy running the place. The Vampiress had stepped up, taking on the mantle of leadership and guiding the Unseelie through tumultuous times.


    Ythrak didn¡¯t respond at first, as his dreadful eyes seemed to bore a hole through Synael¡¯s head. However, the Lich eventually gave a nod of respect and understanding. Ythrak knew it effectively dumped the incredible burden of management and the safety of their people onto Synael. He was grateful for her unwavering dedication and strength.


    ¡°You, my shiny ivory friend,¡± The Vampireress started again as she turned her back to the lich. Go see if you can find what our chaotic little mistress is up to¡­¡± she continued as her body whisked away into a dark vapor. ¡°And perhaps attempt to put a stop to whatever antics she may be up to before the hellion causes a war that sunders this plane¡­ AGAIN.¡±


    And with that, Synael disappeared into blackened smoke, hurtling itself towards the inner sanctum of the Necropolis.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 60

    It had been days since the raid, and the rather sizable but quaint village had transformed into a makeshift base of operations.


    The village itself was a curious blend of stone masonry and wooden structures, a testament to its growth and prosperity. With stone-built shops acting as its backbone, the once humble collection of thatch-roofed and wooden homes had slowly expanded until it became well on its way to becoming a proper town.


    However, the once quaint village had now taken on a new character. Temporary shelters had been erected that cleverly blended in with the existing architecture, giving shelter and disguising the strange beastless carriages that it kept hidden from prying eyes. Other vehicles were stationed outside the village, either acting as sentries or had camouflage netting draped over the roofs, breaking up the outlines and making them virtually invisible from above.


    Meanwhile, Soldiers moved to and fro as they carried equipment and mingled with the populace. The villagers were initially wary of the foreign presence, but with the goodwill won by Coleman and his ODA, they had slowly come to accept the newcomer''s presence.


    Amidst the activity, a particularly mischievous fairy flitted around their unconscious prisoner bound and gagged in the back of a Ground Mobility Vehicle. Her tiny form zipped through the air, leaving a fiery trailing behind her like a comet''s tail.


    "Eli! Eli, I think this one''s broken!" Yana called out in a high-pitched voice that tinged with a mix of amusement and mock concern. With a playful grin, she bonked the captive on the head, her tiny fist making a comically soft thud against their skull. "We should throw it away!"


    Elijah grumbled something ineligible under his breath as he peered into a young boy''s swollen mouth with a small flashlight. The child''s cries filled the air, a mixture of pain and fear that tugged at the heartstrings. Beside the boy stood a young girl, her head hung low in guilt as she tried to suppress her own tears, her small frame shaking with each hiccup.


    The medic''s eyes darted towards Yana, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Yana, leave the prisoner alone..." he warned in a low growl. The fairy''s antics, while amusing at times, were a lot less enjoyable when he was already annoyed and treating his most hated of patients.


    Children¡­


    Turning his attention back to the boy, Elijah''s voice took on a firmer edge. "I said... STOP. MOVING." He narrowed his eyes, fixing the child with a stern gaze that brooked no argument. The boy, startled by the sudden change in the medic''s demeanor, froze in place, his sobs subsiding into quiet whimpers.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ kids¡­¡± Elijah grumbled as his gaze then shifted to the young girl, who seemed to shrink under the weight of his scrutiny. She had clearly played a role in the boy''s current predicament, and the guilt was written all over her face.


    "Alright, kid," Elijah sighed, his voice softening slightly as he addressed the girl. "What happened here? And don''t try to sugarcoat it." He continued as he pulled out a swap and put it in the boy¡¯s mouth to staunch the bleeding.


    The girl''s lower lip trembled as she tried to find her words. "W-we were playing k-knights n¡¯ monsters¡­ and¡­ and¡­" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "and... I didn''t mean to hit him so hard. It was an accident, I swears it!"


    Elijah''s eyes narrowed as he listened to the girl''s explanation, his fingers still holding the swab in the boy''s mouth. He was about to respond when a flicker of movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw Yana bouncing gleefully on the unconscious prisoner''s chest, treating it like her own personal trampoline.


    A frustrated sigh left his mouth as the medic mouthed a few wordless curses, his eyes closing in exasperation. His free hand instinctively moved to his face, ready to rub away the headache that was forming, but he stopped short when he remembered the nitrile gloves covering his fingers were covered with peasant blood and saliva.


    "Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake..." Elijah groaned, letting his hand drop to his side in frustration. He took a deep breath, choosing to focus on treating the children rather than dealing with the tiny menace''s antics at the moment. ¡°Goddamnit¡­¡±


    Turning back to the girl, Elijah took a deep breath, trying to push down his discontent. Dealing with children was never his strong suit, and they often left him feeling out of his depth. But as he looked at the girl''s guilty face and the boy''s tearful eyes, he couldn¡¯t help but let a scowl flash across his face for a moment.


    "Look, kid," he began, his voice taking on a more relaxed tone, "playing knights and monsters is cool. I get it. It''s fun to pretend and swing a stick around, hell I did it too when I was a kid."


    The girl rubbed her eyes, sniffled, and looked up at the man.


    Elijah leaned in closer as if sharing a secret. "But here''s the thing. When you''re playing, you gotta remember a couple of rules. First off, never aim for the face. That''s just asking for trouble."


    He gestured towards the boy, who was still sniffling softly. "I mean, look what happened here. No one wants to end up with a mouthful of blood, right?"


    Shaking her head vigorously, the girl¡¯s pigtails bounced as she took in this new rule set.


    "Right? Now second," Elijah continued, holding up two fingers for emphasis, "you can''t be swingin¡¯ too hard. It''s all about control. The more control you have, the better you move around and get the other guy!¡± Elijah moved and twisted his body around like he''s shadowboxing. ¡°Plus, you want to have fun, not actually hurt each other."


    He fixed the girl with a meaningful look. "You don''t want people to be scared to play with you, right? They might not want to join in if you''re too rough."


    The girl''s eyes widened with realization, and she nodded solemnly. "I don''t want to play alone," she said softly in a barely whisper voice.


    With a nod, Elijah turned back to the little boy and put a damp towel on his busted lip. "Exactly. It would suck to play alone, wouldn''t it? So, if you want to keep having fun with your friends, you gotta remember not to aim for the face." He pressed the towel against the kid''s lip, causing the child to cringe in pain and yelp. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna do this shit again, so next time, I¡¯ll just let you bleed, got it?


    Elijah turned back to the little girl while his patient writed in pain, "Now listen up, both of you," he said in a more serious tone. "I want you to keep this towel and cold when you press iy against the part that hurts, okay?¡± He continued as the little boy tried to get away, but Elijah just pressed down harder to indicate there was no escape. ¡°If you see it getting bigger or if any white stuff starts coming out, you come find me or any of the other healers wandering around unless you want to die painfully."


    The children looked at him wide-eyed and horrified eyes as they scooted closer together and nodded in understanding.


    "Just ask for a healer or something," Elijah continued while carefully pulling his gloves off his hands, "and tell them you think you have an ''infection.'' They''ll know what to do."


    The boy sniffled his hand picked up the wet cloth out of the bucket, and gingerly placed it to his swollen lip. The girl walked around and quietly apologized once more to her friend as she inspected the wound, tentatively reaching out and grabbing his hand.


    "Alright, now, fuck o-" Elijah started but caught himself before the curse could slip out. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was dealing with children. "I mean, go away! Go and do whatever it is you kids do! Git!" he corrected, making a shooing motion with his hands.


    As the children scampered off, Elijah let out an exhausted sigh, the tension he was feeling from the interaction finally catching up with him. Dealing with kids always left him feeling drained, like he had just run a marathon while trying to herd cats.


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    He pushed himself up from the ground, his knees popping in protest. ¡°Fuckin¡¯...¡± He groaned as he straightened up. But when he turned towards Yana, his gaze fell upon a sight that made his blood pressure spike.


    There, sitting cross-legged on the unconscious captive''s face, was Yana. The mischievous fairy had one leg draped over the other, enthusiastically clapping her hands as a wide grin spread across her face.


    "Well done! Well done!" she chirped, her voice carrying a note of gleeful pride. "I did not know handling proto-humans was a part of my human¡¯s skillset!" Yana placed a hand over her mouth as her eyes narrowed in mirth. ¡°Go make me some proto-humans so I can have more apostles!¡±


    Elijah stared at her with a scowl etched deep on his face that spoke of both disgust and annoyance. Sometimes, he wondered if Yana took some perverse pleasure in pushing his buttons and wanted to see just how far she could test his patience before he snapped.


    "Yana," he ground out while shaking his head, "what did I say about messing with the prisoner?"


    The fairy giggled incessantly as she fluttered off the prisoner and darted towards Elijah in a blur. With a mischievous grin, she landed belly-first onto his hair, rolling around and making herself comfortable.


    "You said, ¡®don''t!¡¯" she chirped, her tiny hands grasping at Elijah''s hair and pulling handfuls out of the neat bun he had fastened. "Your hair stinks! Go take a shower!"


    A long-suffering sigh left Elijah''s mouth as his shoulders slumped in resignation. He knew from experience that trying to dislodge Yana when she got in this mood was an exercise in futility. The fairy seemed to take a perverse delight in tormenting him, and the more he resisted, the more she persisted.


    So instead, he simply started walking away, ignoring the manic fairy as she continued to make a mess of his hair. He could feel her tugging and pulling, her tiny fingers working to undo his curly ponytail.


    "Why the hell is he asleep, anyway?" Elijah asked, jerking his chin in the general direction of the unconscious prisoner. "Shouldn''t he be awake by now?"


    "Huh?" Yana replied, momentarily distracted from her hair-pulling antics. "What does that have to do with a bath? I said take a bath!"


    A scoff left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, yeah, whatever. Later. Just answer the question."


    Yana shrugged in a way that looked comical on her tiny frame. "You wanted a quick burn, so I gave you a quick burn! Sometimes it fries people''s brains and stuff."


    Pinching the bridge of his, Elijah couldn¡¯t even fathom the frustrated feeling that was boiling up within him. Although there were no KIAs, they had still taken casualties for this goddamn dude, and they ended up with a lemon rather than the well of information they were initially hoping for. "So we have a fucking vegetable?"


    "Maybe. Can''t tell." Yana gave another unconcerned shrug as she continued to muddle her apostle''s hair.


    The medic closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm the rising tide of irritation. This was not the news he had been hoping for. A prisoner who couldn''t talk, who couldn''t give them the information they so desperately needed, was about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.


    Elijah had come to a stop in the middle of the dirt road leading to the gate of the village when he placed his hands on his face and looked up. ¡°Satan on a stick¡­ Why the fuck does everything go to shit all the time¡­?¡± He murmured before dragging his hands down while villagers walked around him, giving him a wide berth and staring at the man as if he lost his mind.


    With a shake of his head, Elijah continued on despite the manic fairy making a nest out of his hair. There was a lot to do and people to kill, and he couldn''t afford to get sidetracked by Yana''s antics or the frustration of having a potentially useless prisoner.


    Ever since they started stealing back the tribute collected by the now-deceased lord and bringing it back to this village, the locals'' attitudes had shifted dramatically. What had once been tepid tolerance had blossomed into general acceptance and, soon after, favor. While the village chief had been a voice against their presence, the man¡¯s son and the ever popular Blacksmith had stood in support of the Operators'' presence.


    The raid on the convoy had been a turning point. Not only had they secured valuable resources and intelligence, but they had also learned that the convoy had essentially abandoned their encampment, leaving behind a treasure trove of goods and supplies.


    Word had spread quickly, with the help of signal intelligence teams roaming around setting up communication relays, and soon every special operations team in the area knew what was up. There was now a conveniently placed forward operating base to call their own. Hidden away in the valley and surrounded by forests, there was now a place where they could drop off wounded, rest, resupply, and launch new missions¡ªa vital lifeline in the chaotic landscape of this strange new world.


    As Elijah made his way through the side of the village that the refugees and modern soldiers were regulated to, he couldn''t help but marvel at the transformation that had taken place in such a short time. The once-quiet streets were now filled with the hustle and bustle of life, as people from all walks of life went about their business


    The refugees, grateful for the protection and support the special forces teams provided, had thrown themselves into helping in any way they could. Some were busy moving crates of supplies, their faces lined with a newfound sense of hope. Others were engaged in more domestic tasks, such as washing clothes and cooking meals, and perhaps most striking of all was the sight of them tending to the wounded. Their gentle hands and soothing words provided comfort to those unlucky enough to taste the steel of a blade or the effects of magic.


    On this side of the village, everywhere Elijah looked, he saw the flags of partner nations milling about. His gaze traveled to a Japanese Special Forces Group contingent, who were joking and laughing as they reloaded magazines and checked weapons in preparation for another mission. Meanwhile, the Australian SASR and Polish JWK seemed to take some well-deserved rest and relaxation as they lounged around, eating the local cuisine or trying to talk up the locals.


    A smirk flitted across Elijah¡¯s face. He finally had evidence that he wasn¡¯t the only one trying to get cozy with the village girls. Nevertheless, the man resumed his trek, but his attention was suddenly drawn upward when a yelp and a string of colorful curses echoed out. Towards the top of an enormous tree that stood at the edge of the village. There, precariously perched among the branches, was a group of signal intelligence specialists from The Activity, the Tier 1 unit known for their intelligence expertise, whether signal, communication, or human.


    As he watched, the operator, who let out a high-pitched scream, had apparently lost his footing and started flailing wildly as he tried to regain his balance. For a moment, it looked as though he would plummet to the ground below, but at the last second, he managed to grab hold of a branch, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.


    Once it was clear the man had finally regained his footing, the area erupted into chuckles at the poor man¡¯s misfortune while the individual in question¡¯s face flushed with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. The operator shot a glare at his teammates as if daring them to comment on his close call before turning his attention back to covering up the communication relays they had just installed with foilage.


    "This is like the 3rd time the fuck almost fell," a familiar voice suddenly piped up from beside Elijah.


    The medic turned to see Mack, an old friend and Navy SEAL he had worked with extensively in the Middle East and Africa, standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face.


    "You''d think they''d have learned to tie themselves up with a tether by now," Elijah replied, shaking his head in amused incredulity. "Like come on, that¡¯s the first thing they teach you in mountain warfare or SERE."


    Mack snorted, ¡°Ya, well there¡¯s this fucking weird chipmunk-squirrel thing that keeps popping out and chewing through it or some shit, its the funniest shit I¡¯ve ever seen!¡±


    Elijah couldn''t help but double over and start laughing. ¡°Ahahahahaha! W-what!?¡± He nearly shouted as he shook his head. ¡°What the fuck is this world, dude?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but lose it at the thought of one of the spookiest Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) teams with all their niche and fancy training and high-tech equipment being defeated by an alien squirrel.


    It was truly an absurd spectacle.


    Laughing equally as hard, Mack couldn¡¯t help but rub his bald head. ¡°I dunno, dude, but everyone¡¯s just been watching and laughing while the bastard gets mad as fuck.¡±


    ¡°You know what?¡± Elijah said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "We could ask Yana to give them some flying lessons. I''m sure she''d be more than happy to oblige."


    As if on cue, the manic fairy popped her head out from Elijah''s hair, equally as amused. "Sure they could for¡­ about 3 seconds," she chirped, her wings fluttering with mirth.


    Both Elijah and Yana started to cackle together as Mack took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden appearance of the tiny creature. "Uh, Eli," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of unease, "your hair is talking."


    Elijah sighed, reaching up to pluck Yana from her perch. "Mack, meet Yana. Yana, Mack. Play nice, you two."


    The fairy and the SEAL eyed each other warily like two cats sizing each other up before a potential scrap. But after a moment, Yana broke the silence. ¡°Your head is shiny.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll put you in a blender.¡± Mack shot back while narrowing his eyes.


    A fit of giggles left Yana''s mouth as she yanked on Elijah¡¯s hair. "I like this one," she declared, hanging down from Elijah''s head and using her tiny hands to pat the medic¡¯s cheek. "He''s not boring!"


    Mack looked at Elijah, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. "Do I even want to know?"


    Heaving a heavy sigh, Elijah simply shook his head and headed for his original destination.


    To find the SEAL¡¯s stash of mortar rounds and S.T.E.A.L. (Strategic Transfer of Equipment to Alternate Locations) them.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 61

    A relentless drumbeat filled the silence of the night as rain pelted the windshield of a dark Toyota Tocama truck. The vehicle sat idling in the shadows of a deserted alley in the heart of New Orleans, and its occupants huddled inside, seeking shelter from the storm that raged outside.


    In the driver''s seat, a bald, dark-skinned African American man with a baseball hat pulled low over his eyes, DeAndre, also known as just D, stared out into the darkness. His hands rested on the lower part of the steering wheel while he leaned back in his chair with a bored look. He was dressed in a hoodie, the fabric damp from the rain that had lightly dampened it during his brief time outside.


    "More of those damn monsters popped up just outside the city near Lexington," D suddenly spoke up, trying to dispel the awkward silence. "They''re all over the place now."


    His partner, a pale-skinned man named Mason with dark brown hair, shifted in his seat beside him. He was wearing a North Face jacket, the material glistening with raindrops in the dim light of the street lamps. He tapped his hand against the car door, one of the few nervous tics he indulged in before getting into a big operation.


    "Yeah, I know," Mason replied in an equally derisive voice. "DHS thinks they''re reproducing like crazy because they don''t got any natural predators on the East Coast."


    D let out a humorless sound that echoed in the confines of the truck. "No shit," he said, shaking his head. "All the nasty shit that''ll kill you is either down south or on the West Coast. What do we got up here? Fuckin'' black bears?"


    A chuckle left Mason¡¯s mouth as he adjusted the ballistic vest that spelled the words U.S. MARSHALL in big, bold yellow letters. "Maybe we should import some of those West Coast mountain lions," he suggested, only half-joking. "Let them loose in the countryside and see how long these monsters last."


    ¡°I actually remember hearing a story about some crazy fucker down in Texas using a mountain lion to hunt hogs,¡± D said as the rain continued to patter against the windshield. ¡°Dude would just let it loose, and it¡¯d just drag a full-grown hog back for him.¡±


    Mason raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Damn, that''s wild," he said, shaking his head. "But I guess when you''re dealing with a hog infestation, you gotta get creative."


    "Creative is one word for it. Insane is another." D snorted as his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead


    They lapsed into silence once more, the gravity of their situation settling over them like a heavy blanket. They were waiting for their mark, a nondescript white van belonging to the local mob and a solitary dark gray luxury sedan carrying a lieutenant. Other units were on standby, ready to swoop in at a moment''s notice, but for now, it was just the two of them sitting in a truck on a rainy night, watching and waiting.


    "You know what really gets me, though?" Mason said, breaking the silence. "It''s not just these monsters we gotta worry about. It''s all the other shit that''s been popping up lately. Elves, goblins, orcs... even magic humans or whatever."


    D sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Tell me about it. It''s like something out of that one movie with Will Smith in it. Except all the magic can level an entire block, and it isn¡¯t rare."


    "You talking about bright?" Mason asked, huffed in amusement when D snapped his finger and pointed at him in affirmation. "But ya, you right.  They''re popping up all over the place. Every agency and their mom from Fed to county are trying to round ¡®em up. But it''s like playing whack-a-mole. You snag one and find out there¡¯s five more bolting around the corner."


    D nodded, his expression grim. "Doesn''t help that the organized crime and fuck, even gangs are in on it.¡± He growled in annoyance. ¡°Absolutely hilarious that we might have to start worrying about fireball-slinging gangbangers and mobsters.¡±


    Neither of them, in fact, found it humorous in any way as Mason facepalmed and dragged his hand down his face. The idea of magic-infused crime was a nightmare scenario that law enforcement organizations across the country were scrambling to contain. Intelligence reports revealed a disturbing trend: magical beings from the other side of the rift were harbored by criminal elements in exchange for their services and knowledge. These otherworldly entities would work for the criminal underworld, using their arcane abilities to further illegal activities or, even worse, teach their arts to Earth-native criminals.


    It was a development that sent shockwaves through the law enforcement community. The prospect of facing off against criminals wielding supernatural powers was alarming, to say the least. Fireball-slinging gangbangers and mobsters with the ability to level city blocks were no longer the stuff of fantasy - they were becoming a terrifying reality.


    The president didn¡¯t even have to issue an executive order, or was one resisted by any level of government when one came. Every agency, from the federal level down to the smallest county sheriff''s office, had mobilized to get a lid on the situation. Task forces were formed, special units were trained, and new protocols were implemented to deal with the unique challenges of magical crime.


    But it was proving to be a far more difficult task than anyone had anticipated. The magical beings were elusive, able to blend in with human society in ways that made them nearly impossible to detect. They could alter their appearance, change into animals, and in rare cases, some were even able to simply vanish when cornered.


    Even more concerning was the fact that these beings were sharing their knowledge with human criminals. The idea of street gangs and organized crime syndicates having access to arcane abilities was a chilling prospect. It threatened to tip the balance of power in the criminal underworld, giving rise to a new breed of superpowered outlaws.


    D and Mason sat in their truck, the weight of back-to-back raids, shootouts, and arrests over the past 6 months were taking its toll. They had seen firsthand the devastation that could be wrought by just one rogue magic user from a few weeks ago. A bolt of strange energies ripped through a police cruiser, killing both officers in the blink of an eye. The thought of facing an entire criminal network infused with such powers was almost too much to bear.


    "You know, I signed up to take down gangbangers, drug dealers, and mafiosos," Mike started in a low voice that said he didn¡¯t quite believe what he was about to say next. "I never thought I''d be going up against fucking¡­ wizards and shit."


    A dark and depreciating laugh left D¡¯s mouth as his hand rubbed his smooth head under his hat. The world had truly made a deranged turn somewhere. He was already under the impression they were living in an unhinged clown world after 2020, but it appeared the universe decided to drive the clown car off the cliff entirely.


    "I don¡¯t anyone expected some knife-eared shitter straight out of Lord of the Rings to walk up and point his finger at something and zap it." D continued, rubbing his eyes trying to dispel the headache that was forming. ¡°But we gotta deal with, because if we don''t¡­¡±


    He trailed off, the implication clear. If they failed, the consequences would be catastrophic if the criminal underworld gained a foothold in the arcane arts. The very fabric of society could unravel, plunging the world into a chaos the likes of which had never been seen.


    The radio suddenly crackled to life, the helicopter that has been trailing the target vehicles gave situation report. "All units, target vehicles spotted at the intersection of Jefferson and 5th. White utility van and gray luxury sedan, matching the BOLO. They''re heading southbound on Jefferson, moving fast. Over."


    D and Mason immediately snapped to attention, their postures shifting from relaxed to high alert in a split second. This was the moment they had been waiting for, the culmination of months of hard work and sleepless nights.


    "This is Unit 3, roger that on the target vehicles. We''re moving to tail. Over." D''s voice was calm and controlled as he relayed the information, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his heightened state of readiness.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Mason was already in motion, reaching into the back of the truck to retrieve their tactical gear. He grabbed two short-barreled AR-15s, specially modified for close-quarters engagements, and began the process of prepping them for action.


    As he worked, Mason couldn''t help but shake his head at the surreal nature of their situation. "This is some bullshit¡­" he said, his voice tinged with irritation. "I never imagined I''d be gearing up to take down a bunch of literal sorcerers aided and abetted by fuckin¡¯ mobsters."


    A snort left D¡¯s mouth as his eyes fixed on the road ahead as the engine roared to life. "Welcome to New Orleans, brother. Weird shit always happens in New Orleans."


    Mason barked out a laugh, the sound harsh and bitter in the confines of the truck. "Yeah, what are they gonna have me saving next? A princess in a castle? What other goddamn fairy tale fucks is gonna pop up in this hell hole and turn it into their own personal magic kingdom?"


    The radio crackled again, the voice of dispatch filtering through the static. "Unit 3, be advised. ICE teams and SWAT are in position at the target warehouse. They''re ready to breach when you initiate the arrest."


    D keyed the mic and responded immediately. "Roger that. We''re tailing the target vehicles now, about two blocks behind. Looks like they''re heading towards the warehouse. We''ll box them in on your signal. Over."


    As they navigated the rain-slicked streets, Mason couldn''t help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Here they were, U.S. Marshals, the nation''s oldest federal law enforcement agency, teaming up with ICE, an organization tasked with border security and immigration control, to take down a bunch of magical illegals and mobsters. It was like a bad joke with a punchline that nobody wanted to hear.


    But there was no time for philosophical musings. The target vehicles were in sight, the white utility van and gray luxury sedan moving through traffic rather quickly.


    Maintaining a discreet distance, D¡¯s eyes never leave the vehicles ahead. Mason, meanwhile, finished prepping the rifles before the helicopter orchestrating the entire operation came back over the radio. "All units, target vehicles are approaching the warehouse. It looks like they''re slowing down and preparing to pull in. Get ready to intercept. Over."


    Mason sucked in a deep breath to ready himself while D''s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he watched the target vehicles slow down, their turn signals blinking in the rain-soaked night. "This is Unit 3, copy that. We''re moving into position for the intercept. Over." D responded in a calm voice that betrayed the tension he felt.


    The radio crackled again, the voice of the helicopter operator filling the truck. "All units, SWAT, and the ICE teams are ready to breach. Box those vehicles in and give the signal. Over."


    As if orchestrated by a brilliant conductor, multiple unmarked trucks and SUVs converged on two vehicles in different directions. When the target vehicles made the turn into the warehouse compound, D and the other Marshals seemingly made eye contact and gunned their engines. All of the vehicles surged forward with a roar.


    "All units, this is Unit 3. We''re initiating the stop. ICE teams, breach now! Over." D''s voice was loud and clear over the radio, the signal for the carefully orchestrated danc to begin.


    Tires squealed as D angled the truck directly at the luxury sedan and slammed into its front. Simultaneously, 4 other Marshals'' units converged from the sides, their vehicles screeching to a halt mere inches from the target vehicles or slamming into them directly.


    Then, chaos erupted.


    "U.S. Marshal Service!! Exit the vehicles with your hands up!" D''s voice boomed across the compound as he and Mason leaped from the truck, rifles pointing at the figures in the sedan as they rushed it.


    As soon as D''s voice echoed across the compound, the luxury sedan''s engine roared to life, its tires screeching against the wet pavement as it suddenly threw itself into reverse. The driver was clearly not ready to surrender as he slammed on the gas and sent the vehicle careening backwards, smashing into the white van behind it with a deafening crunch.


    The impact caused the white van to rock on its suspension as its occupants were thrown about inside. The side door of the van flew open, and a group of disoriented people tumbled out, their bodies hitting the ground hard as they scrambled to regain their footing.


    "Hands!! Show me your fuckin¡¯ hands!!" Another marshal from a different unit rushed forward. His rifle raised as he sprinted towards the driver''s side of the sedan, and in an act of pure aggression, the marshal smashed the barrel of his weapon against the window, causing the glass to shatter.


    But the sedan''s occupants were not going down without a fight. The driver and passenger quickly drew their weapons, but D and Mason were faster. A staccato of harsh cracks left their short-barreled rifles and split the night. Giant fireballs from the muzzle flashes illuminated the rain-soaked darkness as the marshals and the suspects exchanged a furious volley of lead.


    Suddenly, the rear door on the sedan''s driver''s side flew open. A figure then flew out, moving with a speed and grace that seemed almost inhuman. In a blur of motion, the individual closed the distance between himself and another marshal as his hand flashed out to reveal the glint of a long, wicked-looking blade.


    But before anyone could react, the blade found its mark, piercing through the marshal''s ballistic vest as if it were nothing more than tissue. The marshal screamed in agony, his voice rising above the cacophony of gunfire and shouting as the blade sank deep into his flesh.


    A multitude of weapon-mounted flashlights snapped to the two wrestling on the ground, illuminated by harsh, strobing glares. It was then that the marshals found the one wielding the blade was no ordinary person but one of those pointy-eared Elves from Ohio.


    The marshals were not about to let this act of brutality go unanswered. As the elf tried to withdraw his blade from the skewered marshal, he was met with a hail of gunfire. Bullets tore through his flesh, sending him stumbling backward and thrashing about as his blood mingled with the rain.


    The scene was one of utter pandemonium, the air filled with the sounds of yelling and gunfire from both the vehicles and the warehouses. Using the mayhem that erupted around the sedan and the wounded marshal, the group that had tumbled out of the white van took the opportunity to make their getaway. Desperate to escape the clutches of the law, they scrambled to their feet and made a frantic dash away from the scene.


    "STOP!! U.S. MARSHALS!" Mason¡¯s voice boomed over the cacophony of gunfire and the pounding of the rain. But his words were lost in the wind as the suspects fled, their feet pounding against the wet pavement.


    Other marshals and D were already in motion as they all took off into a dead sprint with their rifles tucked tight. "STOP, YOU STUPID BITCH!!" D yelled.


    Mason joined the pursuit and passed a marshal who had caught one of the slower suspects and started wrestling with them on the ground. Taking a quick look over his shoulder, Mason couldn¡¯t help but still be shocked to see something straight out of a video game: a small 4-foot-tall Goblin wriggling around and trashing as the larger marshal tried to control it.


    While 5 marshals broke off from the main assault group to chase the desperately fleeing suspects behind them, the rest of the marshals descended upon them quickly and violently. Commands were yelled out, and weapons were pointed as the doors of both the Sedan and van yanked open the doors. The remaining occupants, who hadn''t been riddled by bullets by the initial volley of gunfire, were dragged out and forced to the ground with their faces pressing into the cold, wet asphalt.


    D, Mason, and the other marshals continued to chase the fleeing suspects. With the sound of their steady and trained breathing techniques and the clinking of their equipment, they pushed their bodies to the limit as they jumped fences and turned sharp corners.


    In the background, the sound of police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing second as backup forces swarmed the area. It was the sign that the operation had gone to hell in a handbasket. The carefully orchestrated plan unraveled in the face of otherworldly abilities and magic. It became increasingly clear that they needed to transition to Plan B and use overwhelming force.


    As the chasing marshals sprinted through the maze of warehouses and buildings, D caught a glimpse of the suspects darting into an alley. "There!" he shouted, adjusting his course to follow.


    The narrow alley was poorly lit, the shadows seeming to reach out and grab at them as they ran. The suspects were just ahead, their forms barely visible in the gloom as they wove between the buildings with desperate speed.


    Suddenly, D saw the suspects they were chasing burst through the door of a single-story office building. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoed through the alley as they piled through the small opening.


    D and another marshal slowed to a jog, and their weapons snapped up to take aim at the empty doorway in case any dipshit thought to be cute and shove a gun through it or¡­ fling a spell. While the marshals moved cautiously, they couldn¡¯t help but think that notion to be completely absurd, but here they were. With their hearts pounding in their chests, they moved quickly to make entry.


    The first marshal took point, his rifle leading the way as he crossed the threshold. But as soon as his weapon breached the entrance, a massive hand belonging to some big fuckin¡¯ dude shot out from the darkness, gripping the barrel with inhuman strength.


    Before the marshal could react, a startled cry was let out as the Marshal was yanked violently inside.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 62

    ¡°OH FUCK!¡± the breaching marshal yelped in a pitched voice as he was violently ripped into the building,


    Mason¡¯s rifle immediately started to bark out, sending round after round through the flimsy sheet metal wall in an effort to stop whatever had just assaulted their point man from following up. The cacophony of gunfire filled the small space, and the muzzle flashes illuminated both the tight alleyway and the office space inside.


    D and the other marshal recoiled away from the gunfire instinctively before their own weapons after they found the sight of a multitude of faces staring at them flash from Mason¡¯s weapon. Adding to the din, the two found their footing, fired where the giant had been, and at any sign of life within the building itself. Bullets ripped through the walls'' sheet metal and the cubical dividers'' cloth.


    Amidst the chaos, the poor soul who had been yanked inside was scrambling on the ground in a desperate attempt to get outside as his voice reached a high-pitched screech of panic. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he yelled while kicking towards the exit, but he kept slipping on the broken glass and shattered wood.


    Inside the building, the sound of crashing and banging echoed over the gunfire. It was clear that the giant, or whatever it was, was on the move, trying to put distance between itself and whatever the hell had just attacked him as a hail of bullets sailed overhead.


    Even as his ears started to ring, Mason did his best to track the sound of thudding footsteps through the wall as he swung his rifle in an attempt to track it. Each step was met with more approximate bullets while D focused on the doorway, firing away at any flicker of shadow or hint of movement inside.


    ¡°GRAB HIM!! FUCKIN¡¯ PULL HIM IN!¡± D yelled as he kept firing into the doorway.


    Meanwhile, the other marshal lunged forward, grabbed his downed and panicking partner''s ballistic vest, and began forcibly pulling him through the opening as the downed man kicked and slipped on the wood and glass that littered the floor.


    "I got him! I got him!" the man yelled as he heaved his colleague to safety.


    Not a moment too soon, a long string of automatic fire and blinding muzzle flashes erupted from the darkness within the doorway. The deafening roar of gunfire filled the alley, and the others joined the man on the floor, diving for cover as bullets whizzed overhead.


    "Mother fucker!" Mason screamed as he hit the ground, pressing his body against the cold, wet asphalt, and started rolling to avoid the fusillade. An entire slew of curses left everyone¡¯s mouth as they scrambled to find cover, narrowly avoiding becoming Swiss cheese as the armed suspect swept the area with his weapon.


    The sounds of gunfire and police sirens filled the air as Mason rolled on his back and pointed his weapon at the door as soon as one suspect entered the door frame firing his pistol. Without even thinking, Mason pulled back on his trigger, sending 5 rounds into what was obviously a gangbanger or mobster, causing them to flinch and clutch at their body before running back inside.


    Mason would have kept shooting; however, after the fifth round, his rifle let out an audible click signifying it was out of ammunition. "Goddamn bitch!" He cursed at the gunmen before quickly transitioning to his sidearm.


    Bringing his Glock 19 up, Mason began firing at any figures darting around inside while the others scrambled to their feet, reloading their weapons. However, just as they started shooting into the doorway, a strange and ominous silence descended upon the scene as movement and gunfire from inside the building ceased.


    The men exchanged wary glances as they stood and started to back up with their weapons still trained on the doorway. The sudden quiet was unnerving, a stark contrast to the chaos that had erupted just moments before.


    "You think we got ¡®em¡­?" Mason asked, turning to D with a look that said he didn¡¯t quite think they did.


    With everyone back on their feet, the group started to back further away from the building and towards the intersecting alleyway, keeping their weapons pointed at the doorway. The light seemed to fill the interior, showing random office supplies scattered all over the floor and cubicles riddled with bullets.


    The man who had been yanked inside gripped his weapon with shaking hands. "I don''t think so..." he muttered unsteadily. "I swear I saw 5 or 6 of the fucks when they bastards pulled me in."


    "Yeah, I don''t like this. Let''s back up a bit," D added before keying his mic loop. "Eagle 1, this is Unit 3. We have several suspects barricaded in an all-white office building north of the warehouse compound, facing Thorton Street. Requesting immediate backup, over." He barked into the radio as he kept his rifle and eyes laser-focused on the doorway.


    The radio crackled to life, echoing back a response. "Unit 3, this is Eagle One. Roger that. We''re guiding multiple units to your location now. Be advised we already have officers positioning themselves out front, so check your fire."


    "Roger that, Eagle One. Establishing perimeter now." D acknowledged the transmission before turning to the other marshals. "Alright, let''s post up on these corners and-¡±


    Just as D finished his call for help, a figure stepped into the illuminated part of the doorway and extended their hand outwards, yelling an alien language. Suddenly several wisps of red streaks of light shot out from the darkness within. The beams snaked through the air erratically, their rounded tips glowing with an otherworldly light.


    Before the men could react, the beams found their marks. Each one was struck with an incredible force, throwing them backward with heavy grunts of pain. The impact was like a sledgehammer hitting the air from their lungs and sending them sprawling to the ground.


    Mason, however, managed to dive to the side at the last moment, narrowly avoiding a beam that gouged a huge chunk out of the brick wall beside him. Fueled by adrenaline, the others scrambled to the adjacent alley as they clutched at their ballistics vests, which had absorbed the brunt of the impact, as they sought cover.


    More gunfire erupted from within the building as gangsters tried to capitalize on their newfound advantage. Barks of the suspects'' firearms echoed throughout the confined space, and bullets pinged off the wall.


    The incoming fire was inaccurate and amateur, but it was still enough to suppress the marshals as they did their best to recover from the magical onslaught. Mason, however, seemingly unscathed by the volley, quickly reloaded his rifle and pointed it at the door before squeezing the trigger. Without hesitation, the man unleashed a deafening volley into the doorway, silencing any gangsters feeling cheeky enough to run up on them.


    ¡°We got 3 marshals down!¡± Mason yelled into his mic loops as he kept his rifle trained on the door, trying to take a shot at any heads popping up with one hand. ¡°I repeat, I have 3 marshals down by the white office building! I need bodies here, ASAP!¡±


    A hand holding a pistol was stuck out behind the doorway and opened fire blindly, causing Mason to duck back into cover again. Rounds seemed to stick a lot closer to home than he was comfortable with, but he still had to keep their heads down. Sticking himself back out into harm''s way, Mason opened fire again before turning his head towards his comrades to check if they were okay.


    ¡°H-hey, you guys alright!?¡± Mason said, twisting his head back and forth from the doorway and the other marshals.


    More shots from Mason''s rifle barked out as D and the others grunted and growled in pain while they pulled off their now destroyed plate carriers.


    ¡°Ya, I-¡± D tried to respond but ended up in a coughing fit. ¡°Ya, I fuckin think so!¡± he replied as he struggled to get to his feet with one hand on his ribs, wincing in pain. ¡°Plate caught it!¡±


    D joined Mason in suppressing the doorway, firing his rifle while tactically minimizing his silhouette and exposing the least amount of his body as possible. Despite the pain in his ribs, he knew they had to keep the pressure on the suspects until backup arrived.


    Still reeling from the impact of the red beams, the men that were hit writhed in pain as they pulled off their ballistic vests with grimaces on their faces. "Pretty sure my ribs are broken," one of them said through gritted teeth.


    Mason looked over in worry. "Why the fuck are you pulling your armor off!?" he yelled, his eyes widening in disbelief.


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    "Whatever hit us shattered the plate! It''s useless now, and the broken pieces are digging into our chests.¡± D responded with a face tight with pain.


    Just as he said, more of those red beams shot out from the doorway, causing D and Mason to snap back into cover. However, the magic snaked around the corner. Luckily, the thing had the turning radius of a bus as it slammed into the brick walls, carving out vicious chunks.


    The men all looked at each other uneasily, not enjoying their chances with literally magical homing projectiles. But their dashed hopes were soon reignited when they heard a rumbling sound echoing from behind them. They turned to see a Police SWAT team Rook Armored Bulldozer rolling towards them with its front shield facing the office building and a horde of New Orleans Police behind it.


    ¡°Oh nice, we¡¯re not gonna die!¡± one of the marshals quipped with a relieved grin.


    The Rook came to a stop just in front of where the marshals were taking shelter, shielding them and the combination of SWAT and regular police officers behind it. "NOPD, heard you boys could use some help!" one of the officers said as he maneuvered to one of the men who was painfully holding his ribs. "You said there was an officer down!? Come on, let''s get you outta here!"


    Still focused on the doorway, Mason turned to one of the SWAT officers who looked like they were in charge and yelled out, "Hey! Be careful! They got a magic user in there, and we don''t know how strong yet!" He emphasized the danger, knowing full well that some magic users were strong enough to take a Bradley IFV or Abrams tank.


    The SWAT officer paused, his expression growing serious beneath his tactical helmet. He had seen the aftermath of magic attacks before and knew that even their armored Rook could be vulnerable if the spell were powerful enough.


    "Roger that," the officer acknowledged, his voice tight with tension. He reached for his radio. "Jake, push up a bit and get out of the Rook. They got a magic user!"


    The officer in the Rook, Jake, responded immediately. "Copy that. Dismounting now." The Rook''s hatch popped open, and Jake emerged, his weapon at the ready.


    The SWAT officer turned back to Mason. "We got this, go get your guys to EMS!" He said, taking up Mason''s old position at the corner of the alleyway to suppress the doorway.


    Mason nodded to the SWAT, knowing they were better equipped and had far more bodies to handle entrenched suspects. Turning to his wounded comrades, he saw the marshals were already in the process of being evacuated by a swarm of New Orleans police officers.


    "Easy, easy," One officer murmured as he slung D''s arm over his shoulder, supporting his weight.


    Taking up the rear, Mason kept watch for any nasty surprise while the group made their way down the alley. With gunfire ringing out behind them, they made their way into the massive opening where they first attempted their arrests and saw a swarm of police interceptors and Ambulances parked all over the place.


    A voice crackled to life over the loudspeaker as they made their way to the awaiting medics. "This is the NOPD! We have you surrounded! Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up!"


    ¡°Man, this went to shit¡­¡± Mason grumbled as his weapon hung loosely at his side.


    -


    ¡°So... what you¡¯re telling me is you cannot contain these magical anomalies?¡± A frustrated and almost infuriated voice echoed in the somber and tense meeting room.


    Government officials and Agency heads were gathered around a large, round table room was somber, the tension palpable as the officials gathered around the large, rectangular table of the Situation Room. The President of the United States sat there with this finger tapping on the table in a droning and rhythmic matter that seemingly intensified the tension in the room. Landing forward in his chair at the head of the table, the president¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the Secretary of Homeland Security, who had just delivered the grim news.


    "Mr. President," the DHS Secretary began, his voice steady despite the pressure he was feeling from the intense death glare. "I am¡­. I¡¯m afraid to say Operation Arcane Shield is struggling.¡± He said, trying his best not to break out in a cold sweat.¡± The intrusion of magical entities into our cities and countryside has only escalated since the Ohio attack, but monsters like the Scroungers or Kobolds are starting to tunnel into our sewer and drainage systems.¡±


    A growl left the president¡¯s mouth as the pen gripped in his other hand snapped in half, but the Homeland Security Secretary wasn¡¯t finished. There was one more grave piece of news that he knew would potentially put his career at risk, but it was his duty to deliver it. Far too much was on the line if this was swept under the rug just because he was afraid to lose his job.


    ¡°But, sir¡­¡± The DHS representative spoke tentatively. ¡°It appears that¡­ That the humanoid beings from the other world, especially their magic users, are no longer just trying to hide among the population. Our intelligence suggests that local gangs and organized crime syndicates, including cartels and mafia groups, have made contact with some of these entities. They''re harboring them in exchange for knowledge and even employing them."


    The room fell deathly silent as around the table, the faces of the other officials - the Attorney General, the Directors of the FBI, ATF, DEA, and even Toivonen - paled as the implications sank in. Everyone then looked to the President and saw an unreadable face as his finger stopped mid air just before another tap.


    Instead, after digesting that bombshell, the President¡¯s first came slamming down on the table in a bout of uncontrolled fury. ¡°What the fuck does that mean, Jim!?¡± the President growled dangerously, "Are you telling me we got goddamn wizards in bed with fucking dope slingers and mafia dons!?"


    The DHS Secretary, Jim Falk, visibly flinched at the President''s outburst. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the room upon him. Swallowing hard, he nodded and continued with a strained voice. "I''m afraid so, Mr. President. The incident in New Orleans was not an isolated case. We''re seeing similar patterns in New York, Chicago, Miami, and even Houston... It''s playing out all over the Eastern Seaboard and starting to creep into the West Coast."


    Jim paused, his hands gripping the table''s edge tightly, afraid to continue. The Attorney General, Ashleigh Carter, spoke up to get some heat off the poor man. ¡°Mr. President, if I may.¡± The Attorney general raised her hand. ¡°What''s even more concerning is the number of casualties our local and federal law enforcement are sustaining in our efforts to contain this new threat. These magic-wielding criminals are proving to be far more dangerous than we anticipated."


    ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± The FBI Director added with a sigh. ¡°The reports coming across my desk... they''re unlike anything I''ve seen in my career. Strange beams of light homed in and skewered people who weren¡¯t wearing ballistic plates, others torn apart by unseen forces, and some were even turned against each other through some form of mind manipulation in a fit of unhinged barbarism. The situation is becoming untenable, especially when there are still tens of thousands of these individuals out there still at large."


    The President''s brow furrowed deeply as he processed this information. He turned to the CIA''s subject matter expert on the arcane they have been heavily relying upon, Toivonen. "Miss Toivonen, what countermeasures do we have? How do we protect our people against these¡­ things?"


    Toivonen, who had been quietly observing the meeting, leaned back in her chair. "Mr. President, according to the high-level mage we''ve recruited, the most effective way to combat a magic user is with another magic user or, ideally, a warrior capable of manipulating mana."


    She paused, her expression troubled. "The problem is, the number of trustworthy mages and warriors capable of such are... limited. We''re talking single digits. And they''re all being utilized in developing countermeasures and detection methods for Operation Basilisk."


    The President''s face darkened at the reply and brought his hands to his head to massage his temples. "So, what you''re telling me," the President said, his voice low and controlled, "is that we''re outgunned and outmanned on our own turf?"


    A deafening silence followed the President''s question that caused the officials to exchange uneasy glances. Each one of them felt the gravity of the situation weigh them down, except Toivonen. After that encounter with that god-forsaken goddess, each and every high-level meeting was getting easier and easier for her.


    "Well, Mr. President," Toivonen began confidently but still cautiously. ¡°We do have... an extreme option. If you''re open to it."


    The President''s ears perked up, his gaze intensifying as he focused on Toivonen. "I''m listening," he said, leaning forward in his chair.


    "It''s still in the infancy of its planning phase, Mr. President. It''s nowhere near ready, but... we believe it could work." The FBI Director spoke up, his tone measured.


    Raising his hand, the President motioned for them to continue. ¡°Go on.¡±


    With an audible grunt, The Homeland Security Secretary, Jim Falks, cleared his throat, causing the room to turn their attention to him as he sucked in a deep breath. "Mr. President, our intelligence suggests that a good number of the magical beings at large are mercenaries. They''re in it for the money and have no real ties or allegiances to anyone."


    Jim paused, gathering his thoughts as he tried to find the right words to explain the complex nature of these mercenaries. "They''re what we call ''freelancers,'' Mr. President. They operate in a manner similar to how sellswords or mercenaries function but with a twist.¡±


    He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "You see, these freelancers, they''re not tied to any one organization or cause. They''re independent contractors, offering their services to the highest bidder. Most of them, if not all of them, work through middlemen, handlers, and intelligence brokers of sorts, whom they call ¡®taskers.'' These taskers, they''re the ones who have the connections to secure jobs, whether they''re legitimate, sanctioned work or more... underground, criminal activities."


    The President listened intently, his brow furrowed as he processed this new information. "So, these taskers, they''re essentially brokers for magical mercenaries?"


    "Exactly, Mr. President.¡± Jim nodded before as his eyes swept the room. ¡°They have their ears to the ground, they know who''s hiring and for what. And these freelancers, they''re not picky. As long as the pay is good, they''ll take on just about any job, no questions asked."


    A sigh left the President¡¯s mouth as his patience wore thin. "Enough beating around the bush. What exactly are you all proposing?" He snarled while lifting up his hand to indicate for the group of representatives to stop delaying.


    "We''ve been working on something similar in nature to Operation Paperclip." Toivonen suddenly spoke up with a devious smile on her face.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 63

    It had been a little over a week since the unified Special Operations Forces took residence inside the rather sizable village, setting it on the road to becoming a quaint countryside town. The once homely settlement was going through a process of remarkable transformation in order to accommodate the new refugees. The village itself was the very ideal of rustic charm with its wooden structures as it seemly integrated with sturdy stone buildings.


    With the sun cresting over the horizon, casting a warm and gentle glow across the land, the villagers emerged from their homes to begin a brand new day. The air was filled with light murmurs of conversation and the occasional laughter of a shopkeeper or two as they opened their stores to prepare for the afternoon. Bakers who had already been up since the craw of dawn were busily laying out fresh bread and steaming buns full of goodness.


    As Coleman, Elijah, Bennett, and Azeline made their way through the village toward the head''s residence, they couldn''t help but notice the warm and friendly atmosphere that seemed to permeate the air. Villagers went about their daily tasks with a sense of contentment and purpose, their faces etched with smiles as they greeted one another.


    However, as they walked, something peculiar started to happen. Villager after villager began to greet Elijah by name, their faces lighting up with recognition and gratitude. Coleman, Bennett, and Azeline exchanged confused glances, trying to make sense of the situation.


    "Elijah!" a shopkeeper called out, waving enthusiastically. "Thank you so much for helping me with my broken shelf yesterday. I don''t know what I would have done without you!"


    A warm smile spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he returned the wave. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t mention it, it was no trouble at all. We¡¯re always happy to lend a hand."


    Completely bewildered, Coleman turned his gaze to Bennett and Azeline. The three shared a confused and questioning look as they continued down the only paved road in the village, but before they could question the medic, another voice spoke up. Not even a few steps further, a baker emerged from her shop with a tray of freshly baked goods in her hands. "Elijah, my dear!" she exclaimed. "I saved a few special buns just for you. Thanks for helping me carry those heavy sacks of flour last night."


    "You''re too kind, Amelia!¡± Elijah replied as he broke off from the group and grabbed a couple of buns with a gracious nod. ¡°Just let me know whenever you need more help, especially when you¡¯re offering your delicious baking as a reward!¡± Elijah gave her a wink, causing the middle-aged woman to giggle and blush.


    The rest of the group came to a halt, their expressions a mix of utter bewilderment and disbelief as they watched the strange interaction unfold before them. It was as if they were witnessing a scene from an alternate reality where Elijah, the notoriously surly and prickly individual, had been replaced by a sociable doppelganger.


    Sure, it was widely accepted and known that Elijah was charismatic, but it had always been overshadowed by his brusque demeanor and his barely-concealed disdain for humanity in general. He would tolerate socializing with strangers when necessary, putting on a facade of civility, but it was clear that it was a struggle for him. The only times he would show a hint of amicability was when he wanted something, and even then, it was a means to an end.


    But here, in this sleepy village, Elijah seemed to have undergone a complete transformation. He was engaging with the locals, not just with politeness but with warmth and interest. It was a sight that left his teammates speechless, their minds struggling to reconcile the Elijah they knew with the one before them.


    As they watched, Elijah continued his conversation with the baker, his natural charisma shining through. He wasn''t flirting, per se, but there was an ease and comfort to his interactions that drew people to him. He listened attentively to Amelia, making her feel heard and valued, his smile never wavering.


    "You know, Elijah," Amelia said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "my offer still stands. My daughter''s hand in marriage, it would give me no end of joy to have a son-in-law like yourself!"


    A rich, warm laugh that seemed to light up the already sunny morning left Elijah¡¯s mouth. "Amelia, you flatter me," he said, his voice smooth as butter. "But I''m afraid with so much to do in our campaign, my¡­ liege would have none of it. Perhaps when the war is over, I¡¯ll consider it.¡±


    ¡°Especially when if I could get these delicious buns every day!¡± He gave her an award-winning smile and took a bite out of the still-steaming meat bun.


    Amelia joined in his laughter, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Ah, such a shame! The dedicated types are so rare and hard to find!" she said, wagging a finger at him playfully. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me!"


    Elijah grinned, accepting another bun from her tray. "I''ll definitely keep that in mind," he said with a wink. "I¡¯ll see you later Amelia! Tell Perseille I said hi!"


    With a final wave and a smile, Elijah turned back to his teammates, only to find them staring at him as if he had grown a second head.


    As they continued their walk, more and more villagers stopped to express their gratitude. A brewer thanked Elijah for helping him repair his brewing equipment, while a farmer praised him for his assistance in warding off small predators attempting to get into the hen house.


    Coleman, Bennett, and Azeline watched in amazement as Elijah greeted each villager with a light-hearted smile and kind words. It was clear that he had become quite popular within community in a short amount of time.


    Finally, Bennett shook his head in disbelief and turned to Elijah. "Okay, what the fuck is going on? What is this?" he gestured around him in a mix of confusion and suspicion.


    A glint of mischief sparked in Elijah¡¯s eyes as he took a bite out of one and dangled another in front of his pocket which started to stir slightly. "Oh, you know, just lending a helping hand here and there. These people have been through a lot, and sometimes a small act of kindness can go a long way."


    With a face etched with suspicion, Azeline narrowed her eyes. "And you''re doing this out of the goodness of your heart? No ulterior motives?" She spoke in an accusatory tone.


    Elijah gasped, flinching away in mock hurt. "Azeline! You wound me! Can''t a guy be nice every now and then?"


    In unison, Coleman, Azeline, and Bennett responded with a resounding and definite "NO."


    For a moment, Elijah¡¯s mouth broke into a mirth-filled smile before he looked up, and he had an exaggerated expression of sorrow on his face. "Oh, ye of little faith! I''m hurt, truly!"


    ¡°Ya, sure. Cut the shit, Eli.¡± Coleman rolled his eyes and pointed at himself and then Azeline. ¡°I know, she knows, Bennett knows, hell, everybody fuckin¡¯ knows you¡¯re a conniving piece of shit.¡± He then starts making a rolling motion with his hand to indicate to Elijah to hurry it up. ¡°So, come on. You¡¯re not gonna pull one over on us, spit it out.¡±


    Unable to keep a straight face as everyone gave him a death glare, Elijah burst out laughing as he doubled over, waving his half-eaten bun at them as if indicating for them to stop. "Okay, okay, wow. That was harsh," he said, as if he was giving up the act.


    Meanwhile, Yana began to stir, slowly poking her flaming head out of Elijah''s pocket and rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her eyes widened as her gaze fell upon the bun dangling tantalizingly in front of her face. Elijah felt the bun leave his hand and bump against his chest as the little fairy attempted to drag it into her makeshift den.


    Still chuckling, Elijah pulled open his pocket with his finger, gently allowing the bun to slide inside. "There ya go, ya little monster," he said fondly before turning back to his teammates with a predatory grin spreading across his face. "You know how the village head is trying to play it off as if he likes us, but it''s obvious he¡¯s really uncomfortable with our presence?"


    Coleman nodded, his brow furrowing as he thoughtfully rubbed his beard. "Ya, I''ve noticed that. He''s not exactly good at being subtle about it," he said with an intrigued look on his face.


    Elijah glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, before leaning in closer to his team. "Well, I''m laying the groundwork here. We''ve already got past the biggest hurdle - making a favorable first impression. Now, we need to focus on not just being a friendly and harmless force, but a helpful one."


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Azeline bopped herself on the head with the palm of her hand. "Ah, right, the talk we had about replacing him," she finally recalled their discussion before entering the village. "Okay, ya, that makes sense."


    Snapping his finger and pointing at Azeline, a mischievous glint entered Elijah¡¯s eyes. "Exactly. And here''s the thing¡ªthe blacksmith is arguably more important than the village head in a village like this. He''s the one who keeps the tools sharp and the weapons ready. He''s the backbone of the community."


    Bennett leaned in, humming with interest as he put two and two together. "And we''ve already got him in our back pocket, thanks to saving and bringing back his daughter."


    "Bingo," Elijah replied before taking a bit out of his bun. "That''s a huge point in our favor. If we can leverage that relationship, really show the blacksmith that we''re on his side... it could go a long way in pushing the village head out." The man said with a full mouth.


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    Coleman stroked his beard, considering the implications. "It''s a solid plan. But what if the village head never actually does anything? What if he just stays passive and tries to ride it out?"


    Elijah''s grin took on a sharp edge. "Oh, he¡¯s definitely the type to do that. He¡¯s probably gonna run to the Empire and snitch behind our backs when he gets the opportunity."


    Azeline frowned, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes toward the large stone building at the end of the street. "So, what do we do then?" She asked, glancing back at Elijah. ¡°If he never creates a problem and puts the villagers in a position to choose, we can¡¯t exactly put this plan into action.¡±


    Elijah''s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Simple. We make the problem happen, and then we solve it. I''ve been working an angle with his son already. There¡¯s a massive rift between them."


    Azeline raised an eyebrow. "A rift you can exploit?"


    "A rift I¡¯m already exploiting," Elijah corrected before letting out an insufferable chuckle. "The son, Afton, is young, ambitious, and hardheaded. He has this all-powerful bow that his father thinks he shouldn¡¯t have. The father thinks he¡¯s too irresponsible, too inexperienced, and too undeserving.¡±


    Pausing for a moment and taking another bite of his bun, Elijah stood there chewing while gathering his thoughts. "As of late¡­¡± He continued between bites. ¡°I''ve been feeding into Afton''s preconceived notions. I mean, these ideas were already in his head; I¡¯ve just been¡­ watering these ideas so they percolate further and grow."


    Coleman leaned in, intrigued. "What kind of ideas?"


    "Well, for starters¡­¡± Elijah grinned as he finished off his bun. ¡°I''ve been poking and prodding at the fact that his father is trying to offload the village head title onto him. He already thinks his father wants to trap him and tie him down with responsibility, but I¡¯ve been pushing the idea that his father is jealous of his youth and capability."


    Bennett whistled low. "Damn, that''s devious. Playing on the kid''s ego like that."


    Elijah shrugged, a picture of false modesty. "It''s not hard. As I said, Afton already thinks thinks this shit.¡± He shrugged in a way that said this wasn¡¯t any of his business, nor was it his problem. ¡°The dude thinks he¡¯s just better, and he''s destined for greatness or some shit. I''m just... nurturing that belief."


    ¡°A comment here, a question there, and bam!¡± Elijah slammed his hands together, eliciting a loud clap and causing his patron to jolt. ¡°You have an already rebellious teen being suffocated with tradition and conservative conventions of responsibility, even more indignant than he rightfully should be!¡±


    Coleman scratched his beard as wore a thoughtful look. "Wow, that¡¯s pretty goddamn scummy. But I gotta admit, it''s pretty clever."


    ¡°Thanks, I try,¡± Elijah replied as he resumed the trek towards that village chief¡¯s home.


    After a few chuckles, the rest of the group chased after their menace of a medic and continued their trek toward their meeting with the village head. This was going to be one of many attempts over the past week to get the irrationally stubborn village chief to authorize his people to set up a trade caravan to the large town of Glennsworth. The town wasn¡¯t very large by modern human standards, but reconnaissance efforts had shown it to be bustling with activity.


    Nestled deep within enemy territory, Glennsworth presented a unique opportunity for the ODA team to subvert it toward Coalition interests. Approximately 30 miles away from their current location, it was one of the weaker links in the Empire''s chain of controlled settlements. According to Azeline, Glennsworth had become a haven, a fortress even, for freelancers and less-than-lawful types, bristling with illicit activity and corruption, especially when it came to the town guards and the Imperial garrison stationed there.


    But what made Coleman and Elijah nearly giddy was when Azeline detailed the multitude of criminal networks deeply ingrained in what was considered ¡®The Uncivilized Territories.¡¯ Such fractured groupings of societies with weak alliances and expansive underbellies made for an ideal and very tantalizing target for the team''s unconventional warfare tactics. The Special Forces operational charter outlined the parameters for subverting enemy populations, and the team was well-versed in these methods.


    But they had to be careful. These kinds of missions were delicate and finesse. Push too hard, too fast, and they risk exposing themselves and becoming dragoon food. Push too softly, too slow, and they would effectively just be wasting their time as the locals took advantage of them.


    However, as the group neared the building, Elijah couldn''t help but notice Azeline''s slightly strained movements. It had been hardly a week since she sustained her injuries, and by all means, she should still be bedridden. However, here she was, walking around as if she didn''t have a care in the world.


    ¡°How you holdin¡¯ up?" Elijah tilted his head toward Azeline. ¡°It¡¯s only been a week since you got thrashed. Don¡¯t push yourself if you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    Taken off guard by the uncharacteristically gentleness of his voice, Azeline seemed to recoil in shock. ¡°Eh¡­ still feel like shit, and everything hurts. But I can put up a fight if I have to." She replied, looking him up and down suspiciously in an attempt to discern any ulterior motives.


    An incomprehensible look crossed Elijah¡¯s face as he furrowed his brow. What Azeline had said was patently insane. By all accounts, the woman should be writhing in excruciating pain, barely able to move. Yet here she was, talking about fighting if necessary.


    But, before Elijah could press her further, Azeline continued. "But if I got my hands on a healing potion, I''d be at 100% literally the day you found me."


    At this, Elijah''s expression froze, and he looked off into the distance with a perplexed expression written all over his face. After a few minutes, the man mouthed the words "What the fuck?" as he tried to process what was just said.


    His thoughts then started to wander to the convoy they had ambushed and the satchel full of vials and bottles he had so eloquently relinquished from undeserving hands. Each and every one of those ¡®potions¡¯, a word he¡¯d never thought he¡¯d ever use in real life, came in an assortment of colors. It was as if someone had liquified the rainbow and shoved it in a bag.


    At first, Elijah was going to send them back to command with the spooks to give to the egg heads to study. However¡­ he did notice that there were quite a few duplicates of specific colored liquids in the satchel. It wouldn¡¯t be too much of an issue to depart with a few, especially when it came to maintaining operational integrity.


    Plus, it was better to ask for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission.


    ¡°Funny you mention that¡­¡± Elijah hummed in thought as the group came to a stop infront of the imposing stone structure that served as the village chief''s residence. Stroking his beard, Elijah seemed to have an internal debate raging within before he continued, "I think¡­ I think i might just have something. I can¡¯t guarantee that, but I¡¯ll let you take a peek and see if its what you¡¯re looking for."


    Coleman and Bennett turned their head to the man while Azeline raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you have a healing potion?" she asked, her tone a mix of skepticism and hope.


    A few moments of silence reigned as Elijah continued to play with his beard, trying to find an answer to this question. If he was honest? Then he didn¡¯t know. However, logic would dictate that anything that would be able to heal you from wounds sustained, especially one as grievous as Azeline¡¯s would be extremely valuable. So logically¡­ within a bag full of expensive valuable items, there was a rather decent chance one of those bottles or vials could be a healing poition.


    ¡°Perhaps-¡± But before Elijah could properly answer, the large wooden door with intricate ornate designs carved into its surface swung open.


    Standing in the doorway with a face contorted in a mixture of anger and frustration was Afton, gritting his teeth as his eyes darted to each of them standing outside. Clenching his fist in barely contained rage, the teenager then stormed out of the building, cursing with each step.


    "I knew it! I damned well knew this was gon¡¯ happen!" Afton growled as he glared at Elijah. "I told you so, Elijah! That old bag of bones, he''s trying to stifle my growth, keep me locked in this podunk town at the ass end of nowheres!"


    The group exchanged odd looks as Afton stomped away, continuing his tirade as he marched off down the street. The team, however, stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This was not the reception they had been expecting, and the sudden outburst had caught them all off guard.


    Cautiously, they peered inside the building, only to be met with the equally irritated face of Sofan, the village head. The man had a sneer on his face before violently knocking over wooden bowls and other affect on top of a table. "God¡¯s damned foolish and irresponsible child!" Sofan yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. It was clear that he was just as upset as his son, though for entirely different reasons. ¡°Gods, curse you!¡±


    Coleman, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. "Uhhh... is this a bad time?" he asked, his tone careful and measured.


    Sofan sighed, his anger seeming to deflate slightly. "No, no. Let''s just be done with this pointless meeting," he said, waving them inside with a dismissive gesture.


    As they entered the building, Sofan led them to a small room, sparsely furnished but functional. He sat down at a table, motioning for them to join him. "I''ve given it some thought," Sofan began, his voice tired but resolute. "And I''ve decided to agree to this trade run to Glennsworth. Our town is growing critically low on supplies - tools, medicine, salt."


    The team exchanged glances, surprised but pleased by this sudden turn of events. It seemed that despite the family drama, they were getting what they wanted.


    But Sofan wasn''t finished. "However," he said, his tone brooking no argument, "I will be leadin¡¯ this caravan in place of Donnut. And Afton, sure as the infinite hells, ain''t going. He has responsibilities here, responsibilities he needs to learn."


    Coleman immediately nodded, agreeing to Sofan''s terms. "Of course, we understand completely," the team leader responded in a smooth and professional manner. "We''re just glad we could come to an agreement that benefits everyone."


    As the two leaders began to discuss the logistics of the expedition, Elijah furrowed his brow, his mind racing. This development complicated matters. He hadn''t expected Sofan to abruptly take charge, thinking the man would prefer to hide away from the outsiders for as long as possible.


    With Sofan leading the caravan instead of Afton or even Donnu, Elijah''s plan to groom a replacement for the village chief role was starting to become much more complicated. He needed someone on friendly terms with enough sway in the village, someone he could mold into leadership for their eventual coup.


    As Elijah''s gaze wandered around the room, his eyes suddenly fell upon Afton''s prized bow, sitting in the corner of the reception room.


    Suddenly¡­ a thought popped into his head.


    Clearing his throat, Elijah interjected into the conversation. "If I may," he began, his voice carrying a note of concern. "We''ve noticed there''s been a significant increase in dangerous monsters roaming the area. This journey may not be as safe as we''d like."


    Sofan and Coleman paused their discussion, turning their attention to Elijah. The medic continued, his tone growing more serious. "I strongly recommend that all the villagers accompanying us be armed. And you," he said, his gaze fixing on Sofan, "as the leader of this expedition, should arm yourself with the most powerful weapon you can find. There''s Grovemaws out there, and Azeline here could attest to this."


    Sofan''s eyes widened slightly at the mention of Grovemaws, and a flicker of fear passed over his face. It was clear that the beasts were a threat that even a seasoned warrior like Sofan was wary of. As if drawn by an invisible force, Sofan''s gaze drifted to the corner of the room where Gladeheart rested.


    For a brief moment, an evil smirk floated across Elijah¡¯s face when he saw the twinkle in the village chief¡¯s eye.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 64

    Azeline twirled a healing potion in her hand with a thoughtful look on her face. The other day, just after the meeting with the village chief, Elijah had made good on his promise and sourced a red vial.


    Initially, her plan had been simple - drink the potion and be cured of all her ails. After all, that was the purpose of these magical concoctions, wasn''t it? To mend wounds, restore vitality, and get the drinker back to peak condition.


    However, upon closer inspection, Azeline realized that the potion Elijah had procured was¡­ particularly potent. The liquid inside the vial seemed to glow with a deep and rich crimson hue as if it were a light. This was no ordinary healing potion- it was a concentrate, a distillation of powerful restorative magic with no ounce of watering down to be seen.


    This put Azeline into a predicament. On one hand, she could drink a portion of the potion and save the rest for later. Just a few sips would be enough to get her back on her feet and ready for action. She could just keep the rest and make it act as a reserve, a failsafe for future injuries or emergencies.


    On the other hand, she could choose to heal naturally, to let her body heal naturally. It would be a slower process, but it would allow her to save the entire potion for a truly dire situation. In a world as unpredictable and dangerous as this one, having a full-strength healing potion could last her for who knows how long.


    And then there was the third option¡ªselling the potion. Azeline knew that such a high-grade healing item would fetch quite a sum on the open market. With the funds, she could acquire other useful supplies or perhaps even secure some favors from the right people¡ªin a place like Aldenshore, where money talked, and influence was everything.


    Lost in her musings, Azeline almost didn''t notice a lone figure approaching her, but the man¡¯s all too familiar voice made her head snap up.


    "How do I look?" Elijah asked, raising his arms to present himself. He was clad in a loose-fitting earthy tunic, half covered in an unbuttoned leather surcoat. For pants, sturdy breeches fitted loosely over his strange earthen boots that were made from strange and alien materials.


    Azeline looked him up and down, her eyebrow arching in surprise as she took in his new appearance. She hadn¡¯t even recognized him as he approached and mistaken the man for another peasant. His usual upright and powerful stride was replaced with a more relaxed and lethargic gait that was accompanied by a lazy hench of his back.


    Giving him a slow, appraising nod, a small smile playing at the corners of Azeline¡¯s mouth. "Not bad! Not bad at all," she said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. "You look like a pilgrim or a fledgling freelancer from the southern islands."


    Elijah''s grin widened, and he was clearly pleased with her assessment. "Perfect. I was going for the nobody merc look."


    A hum of interest left Azeline¡¯s mouth. She nodded her head and observed Elijah''s new appearance. "I see, I see," she said, a note of understanding in her voice. "That makes sense. Blending in with the locals, becoming part of the background. Smart move."


    Sweeping her gaze around their little corner of the village, she saw it was bustling with activity. The strange human group she had found herself traveling with was also donning a variety of different outfits. Some were dressed as peasants, simple folk going about their daily lives. Others had taken on the appearance of merchants, their clothes a bit more refined, a hint of prosperity about them. And then there were those, like Elijah, who had opted for the look of freelancers, wandering adventurers, and sellswords.


    But what stood out most to Azeline was the sight of them loading their equipment into the back of wooden carriages. Gone were the sleek, metal carriages that moved without the aid of beasts of burden, and in their place were simple, horse-drawn carts.


    Azeline turned back to Elijah, a furrowed brow betraying her confusion. "You''re not taking your metal carriages?" she asked, gesturing toward the wooden carts. "I thought those were your primary mode of transportation."


    ¡°Eh? Nah," Elijah lifted an eyebrow before dismissively throwing his hand. "Too conspicuous if we show up in those and too bothersome to hide if we get close and stash them somewhere."


    After quietly considering his words for a moment, Azeline nodded her head in agreement as she tapped the side of her potion. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± She conceded. ¡°People also like to wander and might run into them. You¡¯d need to station a permanent guard.¡±


    "Yep, pretty much," Elijah agreed, nodding his head. "Last thing we need is some curious local stumbling upon our stuff and causing a scene. Or trying to steal it."


    Taking another look around, Azeline¡¯s brow furrowed further as a thought struck her. Now that she considered it, why were they all preparing now? The expedition wasn''t set to leave for a few days, yet here they were, packing up and getting into character.


    "Why the rush?" she asked, turning back to Elijah. "I thought we had a few days before we were supposed to head out. Why is everyone gearing up now?"


    Elijah, who had been busy watching Yana continue to meddle with their prisoner in various concerning ways, did a double take towards Azeline. His gaze flickered between the two, making sure the mischievous fairy wasn''t doing anything too crazy, before focusing on Azeline¡¯s question.


    "Oh, they''re just familiarizing themselves with the local garb and equipment," he explained, waving a hand towards the bustling activity. "Getting a feel for how to move, how to act. It''s one thing to look the part, but it''s another to act the part."


    ¡°Act the part?¡± Azeline murmured to herself as she tilted her head in through. The action caused the ears to wobble as she took in Elijah¡¯s words. It made sense. If they were going to blend in, they needed to do more than just dress for the part. They needed to live it, breathe it, and make it their second nature.


    Meanwhile, Yana was zipping around the still unconscious and seemingly braindead prisoner with a mischievous glint in her eye. The fairy had her hand on her chin, deep in thought as she examined the man from various angles, as if he were a particularly intriguing puzzle to solve.


    Suddenly, she darted to the man''s face, prying his mouth open with her tiny hands. With a giggle, she grabbed his tongue and pulled it out, stretching it out to hang from the side of his mouth in a comical fashion.


    Yana then flew back, putting some distance between herself and the prisoner as she admired her handiwork. It was like an artist stepping back from a canvas, considering the next brushstroke.


    "Hmm..." she hummed, tilting her head as she flew from one side of the man''s head to the other, examining him from different angles. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and impish glee. It was a look that would have made Azeline and the otherworldly humans wary and put some distance between themselves and her.


    Elijah, still in conversation with Azeline, continued his explanation. "Ya, the sooner we start, the more natural it''ll feel when we''re out there. And the more natural it feels, the more..."


    But his words trailed off as a sudden zap filled the air, followed by the sight of Yana electrocuting the prisoner with bolts of violet electricity. The man''s body jerked and spasmed with each zap, his tongue flopping around wildly as the fairy cackled with delight.


    "... convincing we''ll be..." Elijah repeated distractedly, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding before him. "Hold on a sec..."


    As he started to walk over with a brow furrowed in a mix of concern and exasperation, the fairy continued her mischievous play. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn¡¯t even notice her Apostle rapidly approaching.


    Zipping up to the prisoner''s face once more, Yana grabbed an eyelid in each hand and started pumping her arms like pistons, causing the man''s eyes to flutter open and close in a grotesque pantomime of wakefulness.


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    "WAKEY WAKEY!" she yelled gleefully, her high-pitched voice carrying across the village.


    A look of alarm spread across Elijah¡¯s face as she took off into a jog. "Yana!" he called out, trying to get the fairy''s attention. "What are you doing!? Stop that! What the hell is wrong with you!?"


    But Yana seemed to be in her own world, lost in the joy of her mischief. She continued her assault on the prisoner''s face, alternating between zapping him with electricity and manipulating his features like a deranged puppeteer.


    And the moment he got close enough to snatch Yana out of the air, the prisoner suddenly let out a shrill scream as he twisted and writhed, trying to break free of his restraints.


    ¡°JESUS-FUCKING-CHRIST!¡± Elijah yelped as he stopped in his tracks, stumbling backward.


    Elijah''s hand instinctively went to his pistol, drawing it in a smooth, practiced motion. He leveled the weapon at the prisoner, his finger resting alongside the trigger guard as he assessed the situation.


    The prisoner''s scream had drawn the attention of the other operators lurking around the area. They rushed over, weapons at the ready, their faces tense with anticipation of a potential threat.


    Coleman and an SASR operator were the first to reach Elijah and the squirming prisoner. "What the fuck is going on here?" Coleman demanded as his hand rested on his own pistol. His eyes darted from the writhing prisoner to Elijah''s drawn pistol to Yana, who was still gleefully zapping the man with bolts of violet electricity.


    "I don''t know!" Elijah replied in a befuddled voice. "One minute, he was out cold, the next, he''s screaming like a banshee!" For once, he found himself completely flustered, unsure what to do.


    The SASR operator who helped them with the convoy raid, known as just Ian, spoke up. "Mate, I think your little friend there might be the problem."


    Yana cackled evilly as she continued to torment the poor soul, her manic laughter mixing with his agonized screams in a discordant symphony of chaos. "Are you awake yet!?" she yelled, her tiny hands prying the man''s eyelids open. "Did you have a nice sleep!? Rise and shine! It''s time to -"


    "GWAAK!!!" Yana''s taunting was cut short as Elijah''s hand shot out, snatching her off the man''s face. But with her tiny fists still clenched on the man''s eyelids, Elijah inadvertently yanked the man forward, out of his resting place inside of the GMV, and face-first onto the stone floor.


    Elijah froze for a few moments as he looked down at the groaning man with a blank expression. The prisoner''s face contorted in pain, and his hands weakly grasped at the air as his muscles spasmed from the unrelenting shocks. But before Elijah could even begin to process the insane scene before him, a sinking feeling crept up his spine.


    Slowly, Elijah turned his head to look behind him. He knew that, with how loud they were, it would draw a crowd, but it wasn''t just Ian and Coleman standing there anymore. No, half the damn village and most of the operators lurking about were crowded around the makeshift garage, craning their necks to get a peek at what was happening.


    The operators, the villagers, all stared at him with expressions ranging from gobsmacked disbelief to outright incredulity. He could practically hear their thoughts: "What the hell is wrong with these guys?"


    With an audible smack, Elijah facepalmed, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. "Oh, for fuck''s sake," he muttered under his breath.


    In his grip, Yana wiggled and squirmed, her tiny face scrunched up in indignation. "Stupid head! Stupid, stupid head!" she squeaked, her high-pitched voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Did you want me to wake him up or not!?"


    Elijah gritted his teeth, his patience diminishing by the second. "Yana," he ground out, "I didn''t mean like this!"


    But the fairy was having none of it. She continued her tirade, her words coming out in a rush. "You said wake him up! I woke him up! What''s the problem? He''s awake now, isn''t he!?"


    With a sigh of resignation, Elijah looked up, meeting the eyes of the assembled onlookers. "Alright, fuck it. Well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "he''s awake. So, I guess we can at least interrogate him now."


    The crowd collectively shook their heads and grumbled about the omnipotent and pervasive insanity of this planet before meandering off back to their own tasks while the villagers stood there dumbfounded. Meanwhile, Elijah shifted his gaze to Azeline who was watching the spectacle with a mixture of interest and disgust.


    "Hey, Azeline," he called out, "you think you can sit in on the interrogation? We''re gonna need an interpreter, or at least someone who knows about knights and warriors and all that shit."


    Azeline raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "You want me to babysit your prisoner?"


    Elijah opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but instead just flapped his mouth and moved his hands as he struggled to find an appropriate answer. ¡°Yeah, more or less.¡± He finally shrugged and released his hold on Yana.


    Taking the opportunity to gain some distance, Yana stuck her tongue out at Elijah and let out an indignant huff. ¡°This is the thanks I get for helping you stupid mortals!?¡± She barked in irritation. ¡°I shoulda just left him brain dead! Hmph!¡± She harrumphed and zipped out of the garage.


    Azeline shook her head after letting out an exhausted sigh. Looking down at the healing potion in her hand, Azeline watched the red liquid sloshing gently in the vial. With a shrug, she uncorked it and took a swig, gulping down a quarter of the contents.


    Immediately, a warm, tingling sensation spread through her body, and she could feel her injuries starting to mend. The pain in her hip and arm faded to a dull ache.


    Straightening up, Azeline¡¯s posture turned more relaxed as she sucked in a deep breath of air. "Fine¡­" she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But only because I know you¡¯re going to underestimate him and get yourselves hurt."


    As Azeline straightened up, Elijah''s eyes widened in astonishment. The change in her posture was subtle but unmistakable. Gone was the slight hunch and the careful way she held herself to avoid aggravating her injuries. In its place was a fluid grace, a sense of ease and strength that seemed to radiate from her very being.


    Elijah''s brow furrowed as he watched the transformation unfold. As a medic, he''d seen his fair share of injuries, from the mundane to the catastrophic. He knew the toll they took on the body, the slow and painful process of recovery. But this? This was something else entirely.


    Before his very eyes, Azeline''s wounds seemed to be knitting themselves back together at an impossible rate. The bruises that had mottled her skin faded from angry purple to sickly yellow to nothing at all. The scabbed-over lacerations sealed themselves, leaving behind only faint pink lines that quickly disappeared.


    But what really caught Elijah off guard was the fact that he could see the magic. Or at least, he thought he could. It was like a shimmering aura, a barely perceptible flow of energy that seemed to dance across Azeline''s skin. It pulsed and swirled, concentrating around her injuries before sinking into her flesh, accelerating the healing process to an unbelievable degree.


    Taking a look around at the other faces observing the two, Elijah tried to gauge the reactions of the others. Did they see it too? The strange, ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from Azeline? But to his surprise, no one else seemed to notice. They carried on with their tasks, oblivious to the miraculous feat of healing taking place right in front of them.


    Azeline, seemingly unaware of Elijah''s scrutiny, strode over to the hogtied prisoner, and without a care in the world, she yanked him up and slung him over her shoulder as if he weighed nothing at all. The prisoner let out a startled yelp, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, before trying to wriggle away. However, Azeline¡¯s grip was iron-clad, and there was no escaping.


    As Elijah watched, he could see the flows of energy within Azeline herself, contorting and manipulating in ways he couldn''t even begin to comprehend. It was like watching a complex machine at work, all gears and moving parts, except it was pure, unadulterated magic instead of metal and oil.


    "Fine," Azeline sighed, looking over her shoulder and snapping Elijah out of his mesmerized state. "Where am I taking him?"


    "Oh, right. Fuck." Elijah shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of wonder and disbelief. "We need to get those HUMINT spooks."


    He glanced over at Ian, the SASR operator who had been watching the whole exchange with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. "I guess you guys want in on this too?"


    Ian nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Damn right we do. Can''t let the burgers have all the fun, now can we?"


    Both Elijah and Coleman seemingly recoiled away from the literally mental damage they incurred when the Australian called them burgers. The fact that someone would describe an entire nation and its people by their food staples seemed completely out of pocket. The two American SOF operators looked the Australian up and down equally as impressed as they were offended.


    ¡°God damn.¡± Coleman huffed in bewildered amusement as he shook his head. ¡°Can you calm down?¡±


    Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exasperation. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Azeline to follow him. "Come on, let''s get this over with," he said in a resigned tone.


    Turning to Coleman, Elijah jerked his thumb toward the abandoned building on the outskirts of the village. "Go grab The Activity guys and have them meet us at the snitch hut, will ya?"


    Coleman nodded, already moving towards the building with a sense of purpose. "On it."


    With that, Elijah and Azeline made their way toward the makeshift interrogation room, the hogtied prisoner bouncing uncomfortably on Azeline''s shoulder with each step.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 65

    Shaw sat alone in the dimly lit room, a black bag over his head, his breath comin'' in short, sharp gasps. The rough fabric scratched at his face, and the musty smell filled his nostrils with each labored breath. His mind raced, a whirlwind of paranoid thoughts and narcissistic delusions crashin'' against the inside of his skull like a tempest.


    "They all set me up...," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the bag. "Eira, and the Count... they''re all plotted to sell me to these damned monsters. They couldn¡¯t stand the thought of someone of low birth, risin¡¯ above they station."


    He rocked back and forth, the motion a futile attempt to self-soothe. But the thoughts wouldn''t leave him alone. They swirled and churned, feeding his ego and his fear in equal measure.


    "They be jealous of me, of my success. They know I''m better than ''em, they know that I''m destined for greatness. That''s why they''re tryin'' to sabotage me, to keep me in my place."


    A bitter laugh escaped his lips, the sound tinged with a manic edge. "The Count, he saw it too. Saw my potential, my worth. That''s why they killed ''im.¡± Shaw¡¯s voice started shaking as he suddenly switched to the third person. ¡°Couldn''t risk him elevatin'' me further, couldn''t bear the thought of a lowborn like me outshinin'' ''em."


    Shaw''s breath grew more ragged, his heart poundin'' in his chest. The air inside the bag was stiflin'', but he hardly noticed. His mind was consumed by the perceived slights and conspiracies he''d woven around himself like a cocoon.


    "And Eira, that vile wretch. She''s always looked down on ¡®im, always treated ¡®im like he was beneath her. But he sees through her now. See the jealousy, the resentment. She knows he be a threat to her precious status quo."


    He then strained against his bonds, the ropes biting into his skin. In a moment of desperation, he channeled some of his mana into his muscles, hoping to break free. The ropes went completely taut, creaking and groaning from the immense strain. A few strands snapped and pulled at the edges, giving him a glimmer of hope.


    But it was short-lived. The exertion proved too much, and Shaw let out a gasp as his mana reserves depleted, leaving him even weaker than before. He slumped back, the ropes still holdin'' strong despite his efforts.


    "They think they can just sell me to outsiders and be done with it," he muttered, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "Like I''m some kinda livestock to be traded and bartered."


    His mind raced, tryin'' to make sense of the horrors he''d witnessed. That creature, that tiny beast with the flaming hair and violet eyes. Shaw couldn¡¯t help be feel a shiver down his spine when he remembered how the damned thing conjured foul magicks that went beyond his comprehension. He could feel his mana literally burning away like fat in a flame.


    "What unholy alliance have those monsters made?" he wondered aloud, his voice tremblin''. "To command a beast like that... it ain''t natural. It ain''t right."


    He shuddered at the memory of the creature''s manic laughter, the searing pain of its torment. It was like nothin'' he''d ever experienced before, a level of agony he didn''t even know existed.


    "Is this what they''ve been hidin''?" he raved, his words comin'' faster and more frantic. "Is this the secret they''ve been keepin'' from us all along? Demons and devils, creatures of the pit, all in league with the nobles and the mages?"


    Shaw''s breath grew ragged as his mind raced, putting the pieces together in a frenzied, paranoid rush. "Eira... the Count... they must have known," he muttered, his voice rising in pitch with each word. "They must be working with these monsters, they summoned them here!"


    The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. He began to hyperventilate, the black bag over his head growing damp with sweat and tears. "I have to tell someone," he gasped, his words coming out in short, sharp bursts. "I have to get out of here and warn them... the entire Wyvern wing, they''re traitors! They''re all traitors!"


    The urgency of his mission consumed him, driving him to a fever pitch. He had to get to the Empire, had to reveal the treachery that had taken root within its very heart. With a renewed vigor, Shaw strained against his bindings once more, channeling every ounce of strength and mana he had left into the effort.


    The ropes creaked and groaned, the fibers stretching to their limit. Shaw''s muscles bulged, his veins standing out in stark relief against his skin. He gritted his teeth, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he bit down hard, pushing himself beyond the brink of exhaustion.


    But it was no use. The bindings held fast, unyielding in the face of his desperate struggle. Shaw collapsed back, his chest heaving, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his exertion.


    Meanwhile, in another room, Elijah, Azeline, and a few other operators gathered around a rugged laptop. The device showed a live feed from Shaw''s makeshift cell, the high resolution showed the prisoner''s every move and picked up every word he muttered.


    They watched in silence as Shaw raved and ranted, his words a jumbled mess of paranoia and desperation. Elijah''s brow furrowed as he listened, trying to make sense of the prisoner''s fragmented thoughts.


    "He''s losing it," Azeline murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of pity and revulsion.


    ¡°What¡¯s he going on about?¡± A human intelligence operator from the fabled Intelligence Support Activity asked in English as peaked over at Elijah.


    A deep, rumbling breath left Elijah''s lips as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of Shaw''s paranoid ramblings into a coherent picture.


    Lowering his head and scratching, Elijah began to explain his understanding of the prisoner''s words. "Okay, so from what I can gather, this guy seems to think there''s some kind of conspiracy going on¡­ maybe. He''s talking about counts, someone named Eira, wyverns, and traitors."


    With their faces etched with an intense concentration, the Activity operator and the SASR team members leaned in as they listened to Elijah''s analysis.


    Ian, the SASR operator who had been present during Shaw''s capture, spoke up. "Cunt  mentioned the Count''s death. That seems to be a key point. Like it was some kind of trigger for all this."


    Elijah nodded, his brow furrowed. "Yeah, and then there''s this Eira character. The way Shaw talks about her, it''s like they¡¯re involved somehow. Maybe they¡¯re a part of this conspiracy he''s raving about."


    One of The Activity operators, a rather skinny and lean man with sharp eyes, chimed in. "And the wyverns. But aren¡¯t they war beasts or beasts of burden or something? Maybe this Eira person is a commander or tamer or some shit."


    With a hand running down his face, Elijah wracked his brain for any kind of logic in all of this nonsense. ¡°Dude keeps going on about needing to warn someone. I think he said the Empire, something? I think he¡¯s convinced that there are traitors within its ranks."


    The group fell silent for a moment, each of them turning the pieces over in their minds in an attempt to make sense of the incomprehensible.


    ¡°So do you all think we should we approach this?¡± Ian asked as he looked at the other operators.


    As the group pondered Ian''s question, a sense of uncertainty settled over the room. They exchanged glances, each of them trying to come up with a plan of action, but it was clear that they were grasping at straws.


    "Look, problem is," Ian spoke, breaking the silence, "we don''t have any real context or personal knowledge on the cunt to work with here. We''re outsiders, trying to make sense of a world we barely understand."


    The HUMINT specialist nodded, his expression pensive. "He¡¯s right. We''re flying blind here. We don''t know the significance of this count other than the obvious, or who Eira is, or what the hell wyverns have to do with anything."


    As frustration started to build up, Elijah leaned back in his chair and balanced it on two legs. "And the more this guy raves, the less sense it all makes. We''re trying to piece together a puzzle with most of the pieces missing."


    As time went on and Shaw''s ramblings grew more incoherent and it became increasingly apparent that any information they were going to glean from him was likely to be unreliable at best or complete nonsense at worst.


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    Elijah scratched at his beard while his mind worked overtime to find a way forward. He glanced at the Activity''s HUMINT specialist. "What if we play into it?" he suggested in a low and thoughtful voice. "Roll with his paranoia, feed into it. Make him think we''re the bad guys he thinks we are, and his friends sold him out.¡±


    The HUMINT specialist raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea. "That¡¯s¡­" he mused. ¡°An interesting idea¡­ It might make him slip up and say something we can actually use."


    ¡°Ya, we could also play the long con and cut him loose,¡± Elijah suggested, putting his hands behind his head. ¡°Make him point fingers at his own people and kick the hornet''s nest from within. He might just get his head chopped off or¡­ cause some internal issues and start making friends suspicious of each other.¡±


    A concerned look spread across The HUMINT specialist''s face, and his brow furrowed as he considered Elijah''s suggestion. The idea of playing into Shaw''s paranoia, of making him believe that his own people had betrayed him, was intriguing, but cutting him loose is another issue. "Hold on," the specialist said, holding up a hand. "Let''s think about this. If we go down this road, we risk this blowing up in our faces. What''s to stop him from running straight to his superiors and spilling everything he knows about our FOB and operation?"


    Elijah leaned forward. "We make sure he doesn''t know anything concrete. We feed him just enough to make him paranoid but not enough to give away our actual positions or plans."


    But the specialist wasn''t convinced. "Even if we''re careful, this guy''s unstable, he¡¯s definitely going to fly off the handle and start yapping about our positions."


    Ian chimed in, his heavy Australian accent thick with concern. "Too right, mate. We''re already concentrated in this bloody village and haven''t secured another spot. It''s a right risky move."


    He leaned back, his expression grim. "We''re already takin'' casualties with these new tactics they''re using. Wyverns and dragons, hiding in the forest, acting as quick-reaction forces. The last thing we need is this bloke ratting out our position. Next thing we know, we''ll have a pack of those scaly dicksuckers breathing down our necks."


    Elijah held up his hands, trying to placate their concerns. "I hear you, I do. But think about it - they already have a general idea of our area of operations. We''re spread out enough that they don''t have a precise fix on where we are."


    He paused, his mind racing. "So what if we take him somewhere else before we cut him loose? Somewhere far enough away that even if he does talk, it won''t lead them right to our doorstep."


    The HUMINT specialist considered this, his expression thoughtful. ¡°That could work if we''re smart about it and choose the location carefully. Aren¡¯t you guys going on a trade caravan to another town or some shit?"


    A thoughtful look crossed over everyone''s face as The HUMINT specialist''s words hung in the air. ¡°Why don¡¯t go with you and break off from the main convoy.¡± He continued. ¡°Take him to the middle of fuckin nowhere.


    Ian nodded, catching on quickly. "And you could make the bastard think he broke free on his own. Loosen his restraints a bit, let him bolt, and think he''s made a clean getaway."


    ¡°Slip a squawker somewhere on him for good measure,¡± Elijah added, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re thinking.¡± The HUMINT specialist leaned forward. "And while he''s running, we put the fear of whatever fucking god they believe in into him. Go full cyclic over his head and let loose and AT4 or two behind him."


    Elijah grinned, the pieces of the plan falling into place in his mind. "He''ll be so focused on running, on staying one step ahead of his imagined pursuers, that he won''t even think to question how he got free or where he is in the first place."


    "Alright, let''s see where this leads us, aye?" Ian said with a grin as he got up and headed for the door with Elijah and the Activity Operator in tow.


    Azeline on the other hand, had been watching the prisoner''s body language on the magic devices display intensely. While the men spoke in a language she''d never heard before, her gaze had never wavered from Shaw''s struggling form.


    As the operators made for the door, Azeline suddenly stepped in front of them, blocking their path. She looked directly at Elijah with a serious expression. "I should go in first," she firmly spoke with her arm extended to prevent the men from going past her.


    The men exchanged confused glances, but it was Ian who spoke up. "What?" he asked in a confused tone. ¡°Why?¡±


    A moment of silence passed as Azeline''s eyes flicked back to the screen. "He''s a mana user, and he''s about to break free of his bonds. Let me talk to him first and handle him if he tries anything cute, then we can continue from there."


    Skepticism floated across each of the operator''s faces as they processed this new information. Elijah frowned, and his brow furrowed in thought. While he trusted Azeline''s knowledge and experience, the idea of sending her in alone didn''t sit well with him.


    "Are you sure that''s wise?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. "There''s five of us. Even if he''s a mana user, how could he possibly overpower us all?"


    ¡°Ya, and with all due respect¡­¡± The Activity Operator spoke, looking at Azeline¡¯s muscular yet still very feminine form up and down. ¡°But that''s a grown-ass man in there. A pretty fucking big one too.¡±


    There was an unspoken dynamic at play - the operators, as trained and capable as they were, were all trained and well-built men. The thought of sending Azeline in to face a potentially dangerous prisoner alone went against their instincts and sensibilities.


    Azeline let out an amused huff and crossed her arms. ¡°Aw. That¡¯s precious.¡± A cheeky smile spread across her face as her gaze swept between the humans. ¡°It¡¯s quite a while someone has treated me like a proper lady!¡±


    Elijah opened his mouth to add in on the fact that he didn¡¯t like the idea. But he caught himself. The common sense of their world didn¡¯t apply here, and Azeline was no ordinary woman. She was a seasoned mercenary, well-versed in the ways of this world and its dangers. If she said she could handle it, he had to trust her judgment.


    "Nah," he said, finally raising a hand and turning to the others. "We should trust her. She''s a local merc; she knows what she''s doing."


    Ian and the Activity operator gave each other an uncertain look. They didn¡¯t quite agree with the assessment, but they still deferred to Elijah''s lead, seeing as he was the woman¡¯s Handler. "Alright," Ian said, stepping aside. "If you say you got it, you got it."


    Azeline''s smile widened, and she gave Elijah a playful wink. "While I do feel somewhat insulted that you think so low of me," she said, her voice tinged with mirth, "I''m still glad you see me as a woman."


    The Activity operator jerked his head towards the others, signaling for them to follow. Ian looked to one of his team members and gave a quick nod. "Josh, keep an eye on the feed, will ya? Radio us if we need to intervene."


    The team member nodded, his eyes already glued to the screen displaying Shaw''s cell.


    Ian, Elijah, and the Activity operator followed after Azeline as they pulled their pistols out and racked back the slide to ensure rounds were chambered. They posted themselves outside the door, ready to enter at a moment''s notice as Azeline sauntered and reached for the door handle. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder for a quick moment and said, "But don''t worry, boys. I''ll be gentle with him." before sauntering in with swaying hips.


    Shaw''s head snapped up to see Azeline¡¯s figure enter the room. His eyes went wide, and panic started to rear its ugly head as she closed the door behind her. But as the latch on the door softly clicked in place, the woman leaned back against the door in a relaxed but alert posture. Her head was tilted down as Shaw saw the woman gazing at him through her eyelashes, and a small, almost coy smile played on her lips as she regarded him.


    "Hello there," she purred in a low and silky voice.


    The effect was immediate. Shaw froze, his breath catching in his throat, and for a moment, he almost felt himself dropping his guard, but his paranoia prevented him from being enchanted. For a moment, Shaw cursed himself for almost dropping his guard, but he half expected a literal demon or gods damned devil to come through that door, not a Sun-Elf.


    "W-who are you?" Shaw managed to stammer out, his voice hoarse.


    Azeline pushed off from the door, taking a slow, deliberate step towards him. "Me?" she asked, her tone playful. "I''m just a friendly face. Someone who wants to help you."


    Trying to regain control of his rapidly beating heart, Shaw sucked in a deep breath as his eyes narrowed at the woman as she took another step towards him. She spoke honeyed words with ha honeyed tone, but he couldn¡¯t help but shake the feeling he was in danger. As she continued to approach him, Shaw drew more power, flexing against the ropes that bound him even as they bit deep into his skin. He could feel the fibers straining, the knots beginning to loosen. Just a little more, and he might be able to break free.


    As his gaze darted around the room, Shaw searched for any means of escape. The door was closed, and the woman in front of him stood between him and his freedom. But as his eyes settled back on Azeline, a desperate plan began to form in his mind.


    If all else failed, he could always try to overpower her, but he also concluded it wouldn¡¯t be easy. Seeing her posture and how she carried herself, the woman must have been a mana user just like he was. However, despite her confidence, she was still smaller than him and he highly doubted she could match. He was able to subdue her and take her hostage¡­ then he might just get the leverage needed to get out of this nightmare.


    "How..." Shaw began, his voice trembling slightly. "How are you going to help me? Are you here to sell me to that small flying demon too?"


    Azeline let out a soft, tinkling laugh that sound at odds with the tension in the room. She reached out, tracing a finger along Shaw''s jawline with a touch feather-light. "No, silly," she purred, her eyes glinting with amusement. "I''m here to make sure you''re not going to do anything stupid before my friends talk to you."


    Shaw flinched at her touch, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn''t tell if the racing of his pulse was due to fear or adrenaline for what was to come. "Anything s-stupid?" his mouth felt suddenly dry as he repeated the woman¡¯s words. "Like what?"


    "Like trying to escape," Azeline literally chirped, as a wide, predatory grin spread across her face. "Or trying to hurt someone. Namely, me."


    A chill running down Shaws spine as his eyes widened at Azeline''s words. She had read his intentions like an open book. But it was already too late and she was already too close. This was his chance, perhaps his only chance, to break free from this nightmare.


    Without hesitation, a guttural roar left Shaw¡¯s mouth as he channeled every ounce of his strength, every shred of his mana, into one final, desperate flex. The ropes that bound him snapped with a violent crack, and in a blur of motion, Shaw shot up from his seat, grabbed onto Azeline''s arm and pushed her back.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 66

    As Shaw''s hand closed around her arm and started pushing, Azeline used the very own forces he exerted against him.


    In a blur of motion, Azeline¡¯s hip thrusted forward, and her knee shot out, connecting with Shaw''s groin with devastating force. The man''s eyes bulged, his mouth opening in a silent scream as pain exploded through his body, but Azeline wasn''t done.


    Before he could even think to double over, the woman¡¯s bodyweight then shifted as her elbow crashed into his eye socket with a sickening crunch. Stars burst across Shaw''s vision, the world spinning wildly around him, but that was soon overshadowed by alarm as Azeline''s hands grasped his head, her fingers tangling in his matted hair. With a vicious yank, she pulled his head forward, driving her forehead into his face in a brutal headbutt.


    The impact was tremendous. Like a sledgehammer against concrete, a deafening thud echoed out in the room as Shaw¡¯s head snapped back, causing his skull to slam against the wooden wall behind him. The wood splintered the force, and Shaw slumped to the ground, his body a broken heap. Blood poured from his shattered nose, his left eye already swelling shut as the man let out a low groan.


    Azeline stood over him as the door burst open, the men from outside flooding in with weapons drawn. But they froze at the sight before them¡ªShaw, barely conscious and mewling in pain, and Azeline, turning to face them with a grin.


    "I told you I''d be gentle," she said, her voice a purr of satisfaction as the sound of pitiful whimpers resounded in the stillness of the room.


    The men stared, their expressions a mix of awe and horror. They had expected her to be easily overpowered by their prisoner, but what they found¡­ didn¡¯t quite align with the accustomed norms of their world¡¯s reality. By all means, the man should have easily overpowered Azeline. However, the woman showed to be much more powerful¡­ and skillful.


    Ian and the HUMINT specialist looked at Elijah, who was equally dumbfounded as they held their weapons like fools.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hell¡­¡± Ian muttered as the three men stood in stunned silence as their eyes darted between Azeline and the pitiful form of Shaw, crumpled on the ground. It had taken mere seconds for the woman to neutralize the prisoner in such a manner that it even scared the three operators standing there.


    The captive¡¯s face was a mess of blood and bruises, and his features were already swelling in a grotesque manner. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that they had just rushed into the room before the scuffle happened, they would have completely believed she had spent a good part of an hour beating the man with a brick.


    Repeatedly.


    As the three otherworlders tried to wrap their mind around the scene, their earpieces crackled to life. "Mates, we''re going to need to re-evaluate how we handle close combat. That was... terrifying." Josh, the Australian SASR member who had been watching the camera feed, spoke with a voice mixed with awe and unease.


    While. If this was the power of a single mana user, a woman at that, what chance did they stand in a full-on confrontation?


    The three operators exchanged troubled glances as the SASR member''s words sank in. While they hadn''t witnessed the actual confrontation, the aftermath spoke volumes about Azeline''s sheer power.


    Their eyes took in the damage to the splintered planks on the wall where Shaw''s head had impacted and the clutter strewn about from the brief but violent struggle. But it was the state of Shaw himself that truly drove home the reality of what they were facing.


    The man''s nose was horribly mangled, a deep gash split his eyebrow, and blood still oozing from the wound. To top it all off, a massive lump had already formed where his eye socket should have been, swelling so rapidly it seemed to grow before their very eyes.


    All of this in mere seconds.


    As they watched the woman step over the debris, casually grabbing Shaw by the collar and hoisting him back into the chair as if he were a child, a grim realization settled over them.


    If this was the power of a single ''mana-user,'' then close-quarters combat was completely off the table. It didn''t matter if they were facing men, women, or even children. Anyone capable of manipulating this strange energy was a threat, a force to be reckoned with.


    Azeline gave Shaw a light slap, the sound echoing in the stunned silence. "Oh, quit being so melodramatic," she chided, her voice almost playful. "I didn''t hit you that hard."


    Each of the humans cringed as the smack seemed to reverberate throughout the room. ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± Elijah muttered before placing a hand on his head and pushing it up so it ran through his hair. ¡°We¡¯re gonna have to rethink A LOT of things¡­¡±


    The three operators maneuvered around the clutter, their steps careful and measured as they tried to process the scene before them. Ian, his face a mask of disbelief, looked at Azeline and gestured towards the barely conscious Shaw. "Is he even going to be able to answer any questions?" he asked, his voice tinged with a pained wince as he took in the bloody mess of a man wobbling in the chair.


    Azeline threw her hand dismissively, a scoff leaving her lips. "Bah, don''t be fooled. He''s just being a little baby!" She punctuated her words with another smack to Shaw''s head, sending it rocketing forward.


    The three otherworlders flinched in unison, a collective intake of breath hissing through their teeth. Elijah, his eyes wide, whispered under his breath, "Jesus Christ..." He turned to the Activity operator, his expression a mix of concern and trepidation. "We''re not gonna get in trouble for this, are we?"


    The human intelligence specialist from the Intelligence Support Activity looked back at Elijah, his own uncertainty clear in his eyes. "I mean... maybe?" he ventured, his tone hesitant. "We''re not the ones doing it, it''s the local."


    As if to underscore his point, Azeline grabbed Shaw by the shoulders and started shaking him roughly as he groaned in pain. "Hey!" she barked in a sharp and commanding voice. "You''re gonna be a nice boy and answer my friends'' questions, right?"


    With his head lolling in a daze, Shaw could only whimper in response. His one good eye floated towards Azeline as a mute plea for mercy left his voice.


    But Azeline was having none of it. She balled her fist, leaned in close, and gave a death glare that would put the fear of the gods in any mortal man. "Right...?" The word was drawn out in a low, threatening rumble.


    "Yes... yes... please. Please don''t hurt me." A broken and slurred whisper left Shaw¡¯s mouth as he lifted his hands to protect his face. The that filtered into the dark room through the cracks and holes in the wall gave the woman a menacing and ethereal glow that just added to the intimidation.


    The HUMINT specialist closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief at the scene unfolding before him. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and looked down at the broken man with a mask of professionalism. "What''s your name?" he asked in a calm and measured voice.


    Shaw swallowed hard as his good eye darted between the strangely dressed human and that menacing woman. "S-Shaw," he stammered, thinking better than provoke lest she smash in his other eye. "K-Knight Captain Shaw."


    The specialist gaze never left Shaw''s face as he nodded. "Alright, Shaw. I''m going to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer them as best you can. Do you understand?"


    Shaw hesitated before answering the strange man. He assumed that he was going to have to disclose state secrets of the empire and troop positions, and Shaw had to deliberate just how much his to the Empire was worth. However, seeing the slightest tug downwards at the corner of Azeline¡¯s mouth accelerated Shaw¡¯s value judgment, and came to the conclusion that it wasn¡¯t worth a lot.


    "Y-yes. I understand." He capitulated as his eyes shot over to the otherworlder.


    And so the interrogation began. Time seemed to crawl for the poor Knight Captain as the slow, methodical, and seemingly benign questions flooded his way, and as the interrogation dragged on, Shaw found himself growing increasingly frustrated. The otherworlders'' questions seemed to have little to do with the tactical or strategic information he had expected them to seek. Instead, they focused on his personal life, his upbringing, and the intricacies of his relationships with his lord and the Empire as a whole.


    At first, Shaw tried to resist, offering only the barest of answers. But each time he hesitated or tried to deflect, he could feel Azeline''s gaze boring into him. And so, bit by bit, he found himself opening up, revealing more than he had ever intended.


    "Tell me about your childhood," the otherworlder prompted, his tone almost conversational. "Where did you grow up? What was your family like?"


    Shaw, his brow furrowed in confusion, answered almost automatically. He spoke of his beginnings as a slave who lived a life of hardship, sold off by his parents to toiling away in mines and fields before he was drafted into the Auxiliaries. The questions had seemed innocuous enough, so the knight captain answered them as forthrightly as he could, albeit tentatively.


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    However, he didn¡¯t realize he was slowly painting a picture of his life, his motivations, and his loyalties. He was unwittingly creating an increasingly detailed profile of himself and the world he inhabited, revealing the intricate workings of the Empire and its complex political landscape.


    "And your lord," the specialist continued, handing him a strange beverage that nearly made his head spin from its sweetness. "He was a decently powerful noble, right? How much power did he actually have?"


    Shaw, his mind growing hazy from the relentless questioning, found himself delving into the labyrinthine structure of the Empire''s ruling class. He spoke of the Imperial families, the true seat of power, but also of the nobility that served and sometimes challenged them.


    "It''s... complicated," Shaw admitted, his brow furrowed as he tried to describe the tangled web of relationships and rivalries. "The nobles, they were supposed to be loyal to the Emperor¡­. But many of ¡®em got their own agendas, their own goals."


    As he continued to speak, Shaw described a system where power was constantly in flux and where alliances were forged and broken on a whim. The nobility were far from being a united front and was fractured into factions, with each vying for influence and control.


    "Some of them bigshots¡­ they''ve gone and basically broken away," Shaw revealed, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a secret. "They pay lip service to the Emperor, but in truth, they be rulin¡¯ their own lands like kings."


    The specialist leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "And these factions," he probed, "do they ever come into conflict with each other?"


    Shaw let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room. "All the darn time," he said, shaking his head. "They scheme, they plot, and they always be lookin¡¯ for a way to gain an upper hand. Sometimes it''s just politics, but other times..."


    He trailed off, his expression darkening. "Other times, they spill blood. Be in secret or open warfare. Sometimes even tryin¡¯ to wipe each other out¡­"


    The specialist nodded thoughtfully. "And where does the Empire stand in all this? Do they intervene?"


    The knight captain gave a nonchalant shrug. "Sometimes. If the fightin¡¯ threatens the stability of the Empire as a whole. But often, they let the nobles fight it out amongst themselves. As long as they keep paying they taxes and providin¡¯ soldiers for the Imperial armies or Auxillaries, the Emperor don¡¯t much care what they do to each other."


    As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, it pained the sky in orange and pink hues while Elijah stifled a yawn. The questioning process had dragged on into the evening, and while valuable information had been gleaned, he knew the spook types had a lot more questions.  The man feared the interrogation was going to last well into the night and there was still much to be done in preparation for their foray into this new town.


    ¡°Alright boys, I¡¯m sure you you got this all handled. ¡°Elijah said with a stretch and a sigh.  ¡°Aze, can you make sure they don¡¯t get their head bashed in?¡± HE looked to Azeline as he stood up to excuse himself from the interrogation


    Azeline nodded in understanding, "Sure, I''ll stick around and make sure this idiot doesn¡¯t get too cheeky," Azeline¡¯s eyes flicked to Elijah flashing a smirk at him as she pat her bicep.


    Elijah chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way out of the room. ¡°Alright, dudes. I got shit to do.¡± He yawned as the other operators nodded, watching him step out of the interrogation room.


    Once he was out in the open air, Elijah took a deep breath, savoring the coolness of the evening breeze against his skin. The village was starting to wind down as the sun slowly drifted over the horizon, and the hustle and bustle of the day gave way to a more languid pace. Shopkeepers were closing up their stalls, and the smell of cooking fires drifted into the air, promising hearty meals and warm hearths of humble homes.


    As Elijah made his way down the main road, he noticed a group of three young women walking back into the village carrying baskets of folded linens. The laughter and chatter of the lively group carried on the still evening air, giving the village a comfortable and innocuous atmosphere.


    But as one of the girls glanced over and caught sight of Elijah, her eyes widened in recognition. She bumped her elbow against her companion, pointing excitedly in his direction.


    The girl in the middle, her cheeks suddenly flushed a deep red, smiled bashfully and looked away. But after a moment, she raised her hand in a tentative wave, her eyes darting back to meet Elijah''s.


    With his face lighting up in recognition, Elijah lifted a hand and came to a stop and waited for the young women to catch up. ¡°Oh, hey Eileen.¡± He called out in a warm and friendly voice and they approached. "How¡¯s it going? It¡¯s great to see you again."


    Eileen, a platinum blonde human woman from the forest encounter, blushed even deeper at being addressed directly. She smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "H-hello, S-Sir Elijah," she stammered, her voice soft but filled with barely contained excitement.


    Her friends, catching the familiar exchange, exchanged knowing glances and giggled amongst themselves. Elijah turned his attention to them, his smile broadening.


    "Ahh, you don¡¯t have to bother calling me Sir." he waved his hand dismissively and spoke in a lighthearted tone. He then looked at the two women that flanked her. "Are the two ladies next to you friends of yours?"


    Glancing to her right, Eileen looked at a brunette with sparkling blue eyes that seemed a lot more brazen than the other two. "This is Jayla," she said, introducing her friend.


    ¡°Hello, Sir Elijah, it¡¯s very nice to meet you,¡± Jayla said in a confident voice and tinged with a hint of flirtation.


    Turning to her left, Eileen gestured to a petite blonde woman who seemed the youngest of the group. "And this is my sister Hayli," she added.


    Elijah''s smile widened as he took a step toward the group and bowed as he saw in a few movies. "Well, it''s a pleasure to meet two beautiful women like yourselves," he said, his voice smooth and warm. "I¡¯d like to thank you all for treating me and my friends well. If there¡¯s anything you guys need help with, just let me know."


    The girls giggled at the compliment, their cheeks flushing with pleasure. Hayli, the shyest of the two sisters, ducked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. Jayla, on the other hand, met Elijah''s gaze directly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.


    "Oh, you flatter us, sir!" Jayla responded in a playful tone as she eyed Eileen and her sister. "But we''re just simple village girls, nothing special."


    A chuckle left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he shook his head. ¡°Oh please," he said, his voice firm but kind. "Beauty is beauty, whether it''s found in a city or a village. And you three? You¡¯re hidden beautiful gems hidden in the rough." He added, running a hand through his long, curly hair.


    The girls practically swooned at his words. A foreign knight that a superior to their village head, calling a humble village girl a beautiful gem was something out of a fairy tale. Even Eileen, who had more intimate dealings with Elijah, couldn''t help but beam at the praise.


    Noticing the women were carrying heavy baskets, Elijah stepped forward after stretching his neck from one side to another. "Here, let me help you with those," he said, reaching out to take the two largest baskets from Eileen and Jayla.


    ¡°W-Wait! Sir Elijah!¡± Elieen protested, but Elijah waved their objections away.


    "Please, it¡¯s the least I could do for your hospitality.," he said, hefting the baskets easily. "Just lead the way, and I¡¯ll follow."


    With a smooth motion, he threw a large blanket that Hayli had been carrying over his shoulder and snatched the two baskets from the other two. The girls stared for a few moments as another fit of giggling left their mouths. In their world, men rarely offered to help with such menial chores. To have a man, especially one as handsome and exotic as Elijah, insist on carrying their burdens... it was like those plays they¡¯d see whenever venturing into town.


    After deciding to allow the man to do as he pleased, the women led the way. As they walked, Elijah kept the conversation flowing by asking the girls about their lives in the village, their families, and how they felt about the soldiers in her village. They admitted they were dubious about it at first, seeing as their history with bandits and the Auxiliaries, but they were pleasantly surprised. The all-human band of foreign soldiers was not only respectful but helpful.


    It didn¡¯t take long for Elijah and the three women to reach the inn and drop off the linens. After handing the short yet stout innkeeper and his helper the baskets, he took a step back and watched with a keen eye as the three girls were paid in a small pittance of copper-like coins.


    A hum of interest left his mouth as the girls slowly counted each coin out loud. It didn¡¯t seem like much, but such details spoke a lot about this world and its cost of labor. But before he could fully process the information, the girls turned to him with a joyful smiles while shoving their new found fortunes in their pockets.


    As they approached, Elijah put on another smile and turned to walk with them. ¡°Why don¡¯t I walk you girls home?"


    The girls readily agreed, nodding their heads and smiling with flushed faces at the thought of being escorted home by what they thought was a knight of a foreign kingdom. They couldn''t help but marvel at Elijah''s gentlemanly demeanor. In their experience, knights and nobles of the empire were often haughty and dismissive, treating common folk like them with disdain or outright contempt.


    But Elijah... he was different. He treated them with respect, with kindness. He listened to their stories and seemed genuinely interested in their lives. It was a kind of chivalry they had only heard about in tales and songs, a nobility of spirit that they had never expected to encounter in real life.


    As they approached Jayla¡¯s home, the young woman turned to Elijah with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Sir Elijah," Jayla said, looking up at him bashfully. ¡°Hope the night finds you well.¡±


    ¡°Good night Jayla. I hope you sleep well.¡± Elijah responded offering a smirk As she disappeared into her home.


    As Elijah turned his attention back to the sisters, he continued on with his escort. It was a much silent walk as the two women were much more silent than their chatty friend, and Eileen felt to embarrassed to talk with her sister right next to them. However, it didn¡¯t take long for them to find their way home, and as Hayli disappeared into the small humble cottage, her sister lingered in the doorway.


    "I... I could tell¡­¡± Eileen paused before taking a deep breath in order to gather her courage. ¡°I could¡­ tell my Ma that I left a blanket by the river," she said, her words coming out in a rushed stutter. "If... if you wanted to... to..." She trailed off, but her implication was clear.


    Maintaining his calm, Elijah stepped closer as his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eileen''s ear gently. "I would like that very much," he murmured in a low and husky voice


    Eileen shivered at his touch while her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment. When she opened them again, they were filled with a mixture of excitement when she realized he accepted her invitation.


    A wolfish smile spread across the man¡¯s face when the young woman disappeared into her home, calling out for her mother.


    He was going to eat very, very well tonight.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 67

    With the morning sun high in the sky and the village preparing its caravan, Elijah stood in the makeshift garage with his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at two weapons laid out before him. On one side was his trusted Geissele URG-I, a tried-and-true M4 platform that he knew like the back of his hand. It was reliable, accurate, and, most importantly, it used the same ammunition as everyone else.


    But on the other side... there lay temptation in the form of the brand-new Reduced Signature Assault Rifle (RSAR). Chambered in his favorite round, .300 Blackout, it promised unparalleled suppression and superb performance under 300 meters, hitting like a brick in a compact package.


    Elijah hummed in thought while his fingers drummed on the side of his leg as he weighed the pros and cons of each weapon. The Geissele was a known quantity, a workhorse he could depend on. But the RSAR... the RSAR was a thing of beauty.


    "Jesus Christ, Eli. Just bring both," Bennett''s voice cut through Elijah''s musings, tinged with exasperation.


    Elijah looked up, meeting his teammate''s gaze. Bennett was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.


    "You''ve been staring at those guns for the past 15 minutes," Bennett said, shaking his head with an arm full of Stinger Missiles and AT4s. "You''re worse than some valley girl trying to pick a pair of shoes."


    Unabashed turned back to the two rifles and let out a sigh. "Nah, bro. You don¡¯t understand," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You see, the beauty of the RSAR is that it can run subsonic rounds. I can just pop motherfuckers like it''s nothing, no loud bang, no muzzle flash, just a quiet little ''pfft'' and they''re down."


    He mimed shooting, his finger pulling an imaginary trigger. "But then, when I need it, I can just swap mags and run supersonic rounds. Suddenly, I''m fucking someone''s day up from a distance, especially if I need penetration."


    Bennett rolled his eyes, but Elijah was on a roll. "I mean, don''t get me wrong, 5.56 is great. It zips faster than fuck, but it can''t go through things as well as a 30-cal can. The RSAR gives me options, man."


    He paused, his brow furrowing as a thought occurred to him. "But the problem is, I''d be taking up a lot more precious space and cargo capacity on the cart. Space we could use for heavier weapons or supplies."


    Elijah sighed, his gaze drifting back to the Geissele. "But if I choose the URG-I... then there''s parts and ammo commonality across the board. I don''t have to bother with needing my own special ammo and¨C"


    "Oh, for fuck''s sake," Bennett interrupted, his patience finally snapping. "Just shut up. Please, just shut the fuck up." He huffed out before turning on his heel, stalking away while muttering under his breath about "fuckin¡¯ gear queers" and "overthinking shit."


    Unable to resist getting in one last jab, Elijah yelled after Bennett as he stomped away and flipped him off. ¡°YOUR MOM!¡±


    With his arms still full of ordnance, Bennet didn¡¯t even bother acknowledging the man as he waddled out of the garage. However, he couldn¡¯t help but grumble under his breath about how Elijah should have had this shit figured out already. The bastard had all night to get everything organized, but here he was, doing everything thing last minute.


    Again.


    ¡°Ridiculous¡­¡± The engineer bemoaned as he adjusted his grip just before an AT4 fell out of his hands.


    As he approached one of the carts allocated to the ODA team, Bennett looked up to see Coleman, who was dressed like a medieval merchant, carefully placing cans of ammunition in the bed of a wooden cart. But the team leader looked up, and his eyebrows raised when he saw Bennett¡¯s agitation. "The fuck is up with you?" he asked, pushing a roll of furs over the metal cans.


    Bennett dumped the launchers into the back of the cart with a grunt, the weapons clanging against each other. "The Geardo fuck is still trying to figure out what gun he''s gonna bring," he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.


    Instantly knowing that Eli was most likely talking about his standard-issue rifle and the RSAR, Coleman just shook his head. "Just tell him to bring both," he said, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.


    "I did!" Bennett nearly yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration.


    Coleman pinched the bridge of his nose before turning back to organize the ammunition. "Ya, well, you know Eli," he said, his voice filled with fond amusement. "He overanalyzes shit. It''s just how he operates."


    Bennett snorted in irritation as she started playing Tetris, twisting and turning launchers, cans of ammunition, and other supplies to make everything fit. "Yeah, well, he can operate these nuts."


    As Bennett and Coleman continued loading the cart, the rest of their side of the village buzzed with activity. Hastily built structures, erected to house the influx of refugees and the ODA team, stood in stark contrast to the more traditional village dwellings. The air was filled with a sense of anticipation, a mix of excitement and trepidation for the journey ahead.


    Two carts stood ready, strange cow-like oxen hitched at the head of each. The beasts were sturdy and placid, their broad backs and thick necks speaking to their strength and endurance. They would be the lifeline of the caravan, the engines that would propel them across the vast and uncertain landscape.


    Around the carts, the ODA team and a handful of refugees who had chosen to accompany them worked in tandem, loading supplies and ensuring everything was secured. There was a camaraderie to their efforts, a sense of shared purpose that transcended language and culture.


    Just as the last of the gear was being stowed, Elijah finally emerged from the garage. His standard-issue URG-I dangled from his chest, the black metal gleaming in the morning sun. In each hand, he carried an ammo can, with another precariously balanced under his arm.


    He seemed to be struggling under the weight of all his gear, his large medpack and another bulging rucksack adding to his burden. But despite the awkward load, he managed to make his way to the cart, dumping the ammo cans into the back with a clatter.


    Coleman, looking up from his own task, raised an eyebrow. "So, you went with 5.56, eh?" he asked, nodding towards the URG-I.


    "Nah, bringin¡¯ both." Elijah responded as he started to sort and shift things into place.


    Bennett, who had just finished securing the last of the ordnance, threw his arms up in frustration. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "Are you for real? You should have just done that from the start! Jesus¡­ CHRIST!"


    Unperturbed by Bennett''s outburst, Elijah shrugged and smacked his rucksack. "Gonna just bring the upper receiver of the RSAR and swap when I need it," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    An audible smack rang out as Bennett hung his head back and facepalmed. ¡°Un-fucking-believable," he muttered before shacking his head and grabbing Elijah¡¯s garbage, and started to sort it so it was covered by furs or linens.


    But before Bennett could voice any further complaints, a familiar voice cut through the bustle of preparations. "Hey guys! I¡¯m back!"


    The three men turned to see Azeline hopping off the strange Australian 6x6 long-range patrol vehicle the SASR seemed to like to roll around in. The vehicle was full of soldiers and had come to a stop at the intersection, allowing Azeline to hop off. Azeline squeezed past soldiers and carts, making her way toward Elijah, Coleman, and Bennett with a cheeky smile on her face.


    As she approached, Azeline put one hand on her hip and threw a satchel over her shoulder with the other. "So, are you all ready to go? It''s gonna be a little under half a day''s travel to get there."


    Unable to resist the opportunity to complain further, Bennett rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger in Elijah''s direction. "No, we''re being held up by this idiot. He waited until the last minute to get all his shit together."


    Azeline raised an eyebrow as her gaze shifted to Elijah. "Huh? But he left the interrogation early to get stuff ready..." She responded in a questioning tone.


    All eyes turned to Elijah, who seemed to be studiously ignoring the accusatory looks being thrown his way. An awkward silence descended, broken only by the sounds of the village and the caravan preparing to depart.


    Finally, Coleman spoke up with a tone mixed with curiosity and exasperation. "Well... where were you then?" He asked, knowing full well he most likely wasn¡¯t going to get an answer.


    And true to his suspicion, Elijah remained poker faced as he continued to sory his luggage and cover it with linens. "Nothin¡¯, just took a walk to clear my mind," he replied in a nonchalant voice, but his mind flashed back to the previous night and soft sighs and soft touch of Eileen''s warm skin under his hands¡­


    Now Coleman had known Elijah long enough to know just how full of shit he was. After having been in the same ODA as the medic for nearly half a decade, Coleman liked to think he knew the medic better than most. He had seen firsthand the kind of shenanigans Elijah could get up to, and he had a pretty good idea of what "taking a walk to clear his mind" really meant.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Alongside being the most cross-trained operator in their Special Forces Group, Elijah was also a slippery bastard. The man was a master at disappearing without a trace when it was convenient for him and/ or causing SOMETHING without a single shred of evidence pointing to him. But Coleman knew better than to trust his glib tongue. Whether it was sneaking a woman onto the base, convincing some poor sap to do his bidding, or just generally causing mischief, Elijah always seemed to find a way to get what he wanted or cause havoc.


    It was the sole reason why, after so long, he still held only the position of Staff Sergeant. The brass saw him as too valuable to get rid of, shoving him into training and advisory positions whenever they could, but too much of a nuisance to give any real authority.


    If there were a word Coleman would use to describe Elijah, it was ¡®Machiavellian.¡¯ He wasn''t quite a sociopath, but he sure as hell knew how to manipulate people and situations to his advantage. It was a skill that had served him well in the field, but it could also be a major pain in the ass for those around him.


    Coleman suppressed a sigh, knowing that calling Elijah out on his bullshit wouldn''t do any good. The man would just flash that charming grin of his and find a way to talk his way out of it.


    Instead, Coleman just shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Right. A walk. Sure."


    Elijah, sensing that Coleman wasn''t buying his story, just shrugged. "What can I say? I like my cardio."


    Bennett, who had been listening to the exchange with growing irritation, threw his hands up in exasperation. "Oh, for fuck''s sake. Can we just go? Can we go now? Let''s just go."


    As the conversation unfolded, Azeline watched with narrowed eyes, her gaze flickering between Elijah and Coleman. She had only known the medic for a couple of weeks, but she was starting to catch on to his ways. There was something about his easy charm, his ability to deflect and redirect, that set off alarm bells in her mind.


    But before she could ponder further on Elijah''s suspicious behavior, the man himself looked up, having finally finished arranging his baggage. His gaze shifted towards the Australian vehicle, where their prisoner sat, hogtied and chained to the back of the vehicle with an operator pointing a gun at the back of his head.


    The knight captain, or whatever he was, was bound with a combination of rope, metal handcuffs, and chains, tethered to the vehicle in such a manner that made it nearly impossible for him to leverage his strength. A black burlap sack covered his head, completing the picture of utter helplessness that made Elijah almost feel sorry for him.


    Almost.


    Raising his eyebrow in disbelief, Elijah turned to Azeline. "So, uh... are you riding with them, or¡­ do they got this?" He asked with his finger flicking towards him and the Australian unit at the intersection.


    Unable to help the smirk forming on her face Azeline looked over towards the man she had subdued the night prior with a hint of pride. "Ah, they got it!¡± She threw her hand in their direction in a dismissive manner. ¡°They locked ¡®em down so tight, he ain¡¯t going nowhere. And if he tries anything, his head is gonna splatter with those boomsticks of yours."


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Elijah furrowed his brow as his eyes shifted between the Knight Captain and Azeline. " To be honest, I can''t say I really blame them..."


    Azeline''s smirk widened into a grin. "Exactly. Better safe than sorry, right?" With that, she hopped into the cart''s cab, settling herself in for the journey ahead. Around her, the rest of the otherworldly humans and the refugees made their final preparations, anticipating an eventful journey.


    Coleman surveyed his surroundings with a discerning eye, making sure his team was ready to set out before clapping his hands loudly. "Alright boys!¡± He yelled with a smirk on his face. ¡°Let''s get this show on the road and usurp some towns!"


    With a creaking groan, the carts began to move as the oxen straining against their harnesses. The Australian vehicle was soon joined by two more as they fell into line behind carriages, slowly keeping pace as its engines gently rumbled.


    As the caravan lurched forward, the oxen-like creatures settled into a steady pace, and Elijah found himself swaying with the motion of the cart. A few of the surviving males refugees flanked the carts with spears in hand while a handful of women jumped on the tailgates, kicking their feet as they trudged along.


    After a few minutes, the village gates loomed ahead as the team neared the rest of the caravan idling just in front of it. Five more carts stretched out before them, each one laden with supplies and flanked by villagers scurrying to and fro, making last-minute adjustments.


    Most interesting however, were the fact that each of the villagers had some sort of weapon. Be it a spear, a sword, or even a bow. Even the women were armed, indicating that these excursions were most of the fraught with some kind of conflict.


    But, as they fell into line with the other carts, Elijah found himself standing with his hands gripping the rough wood of the cart''s edge as he scanned the crowd. His eyes squinted against the glare of the sun, his hand raised to shield his brow, looking for any sign of Sofan, the village head. The man had been a thorn in their side from the beginning, his distrust and suspicion became a constant undercurrent to their interests and operations.


    As Elijah continued his search, his eyes fell upon the sight of Jayla, Eileen¡¯s friend, setting in the driver''s seat of a carriage. An eyebrow shot up as he wondered why she was joining them, but with a shake of his head, Elijah continued to look for the village head. Work came before pleasure, and he needed to see if the man took the bait.


    Finally, his gaze landed on the man as he continued to argue with his son. A vicious snarl formed on the Village head¡¯s face as he snapped around and marched towards the lead caravan with his son glaring hateful daggers at his back. A malicious grin spread across Elijah¡¯s face when he that Sofan held Gladeheart, the precious bow that had once belonged to his son.


    Elijah''s mind flashed back to the conversation he had with son, pandering to his ego in a way that reinforced his claim over the supposedly legendary weapon. It wasn¡¯t hard to convince hte boy that the weapon bestowed upon him was rightfully his, and as far as Elijah was concerned, he didn¡¯t need to tell a lie. But then his thoughts turned to the few words he gave to the father.  Bring the best weapon you can find because there are Grovemaws lurking about and you should bring what will guarantee would bring you home.


    A laugh escaped Elijah''s mouth at how easy this all ways. The bastard must have had his sights on the weapon from the start, and he didn¡¯t need to egg the man on any further than giving a justification to take it. The village head had taken the bait and had claimed the bow for himself in a misguided attempt to assert his authority.


    Just as Elijah was savoring his small victory, the creaking of the village gates drew his attention. The massive wooden doors slowly swung open, revealing the winding road ahead. The caravan began to move forward, the oxen straining against their harnesses as they picked up speed.


    But before they could fully pass through the gates, a voice called out from the side of the road. "Elijah!"


    The medic''s head snapped around, his eyes searching for the source of the call. There, standing off to the side, were Afton and Donnu, the blacksmith whose daughter the team had rescued.


    Afton''s face was contorted in a furious scowl, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. Beside him, Donnu stood with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression as he indicated that they needed to talk.


    Urgently.


    Elijah''s mind raced, weighing the potential risks and benefits of engaging with the young man. Afton was a volatile element, his resentment towards his father a powder keg waiting to explode. But he was also a valuable asset, a potential ally in Elijah''s machinations.


    Making a split-second decision, Elijah turned to Coleman. "Cover me," he said, his voice low and urgent. "In case shit goes wild."


    Coleman''s brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What the fuck does that mean?"


    But Elijah didn''t elaborate. "Trust me," he said simply, before turning to Azeline and tapping her shoulder. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to follow.


    Azeline, her curiosity piqued, raised an eyebrow but hopped off the cart without hesitation. Together, they made their way towards Afton and Donnu, leaving a grumbling Coleman behind.


    The team leader, his instincts screaming that something was amiss, barked orders at Bennett and Schwarz. "Grab your weapons," he said, his voice tight with tension. "Eli''s doing some stupid shit."


    The two operators exchanged a glance but moved to comply, their hands reaching for their rifles while Elijah and Azeline approached Afton and Donnu. the tension in the air was palpable, and Afton''s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight with barely suppressed rage.


    "What? What¡¯s going on?" Elijah asked in a confused and somewhat annoyed voice. "We''re about to head out."


    Afton''s eyes flashed, his words coming out in a hiss. "My father," he spat, the word dripping with venom. "You were right. He''s taken Gladeheart. He claims it''s his right as village head."


    Elijah''s gaze flicked to Donnu, gauging the blacksmith''s reaction. But the chubby yet muscular man remained silent, keeping his eyes closed with a look of determination plastered across his face.


    "And what do you want me to do about it?" Elijah asked, his tone carefully neutral.


    Donnu, who had been silent until this point, suddenly spoke up. "It''s not about what you are going to do about it," he said with sadness and resignation in his voice. "We just¡­ We just need you to listen. The man has crossed a line he shouldn¡¯t have days ago." The blacksmith''s words hung in the air, the weight of their implication settling over the group like a shroud.


    Afton''s fury seemed to shift, morphing into something more difficult to define. A mix of vindication and anticipation, tinged with a hint of fear.  But Donnu turned to Afton, his expression somber. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?" he asked in a steady tone despite the gravity of the situation. "You can walk away right now, Afton. Have clean hands in this matter."


    But Afton shook his head as his jaw set with determination. He looked first to Elijah, then to Azeline, who stood in a protective fashion next to him. The boy¡¯s voice became low and quiet as he spoke his next few words "My father... he plans on telling the Imperials about y''all. That y''all are in this village."


    Almost as if he was dumped with freezing water, a cold and hardened look took hold of Elijah¡¯s eyes, sending chills down the spines of both Donnu and Afton. Beside the medic, Azeline tensed, and her eyes narrowed to steely slits as both of their gazes shifted toward the village head, tracking the man''s every move.


    Sofan stood at the head of the caravan, Gladeheart clutched in his hand, unaware of the danger that now lurked in his own village. "You understand what this means, right?" Elijah asked in the same steady tone, belying it¡¯s murderous intent. "You understand... I can''t allow him to do that¡­ Right?"


    The words were heavy with implication, a statement of fact rather than a question. Afton and Donnu exchanged a glance, their expressions difficult to read. But after a moment, they both nodded.


    "The gods would damn me for eternity should I turn my backs on my family¡¯s benefactors," Donnu said, looking down with a pained look on his face as he walked away towards his cart.


    Afton balled his fist and clenched his jaw as his anger was tempered by a grim sense of purpose. He met Elijah''s gaze with tears forming in his eyes as he shakily spoke the next few words. "Do what you have to do,"


    Elijah looked towards the village head one more time before his gaze shifted upwards to the top of the gate where hung the rapist of Donnu¡¯s Daughter. ¡°Very well.¡±

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 68

    ¡°Eli¡­ What the fuck?¡± Coleman blurted out after a long bout of silence. His mind raced, trying to process the new information his medic had just unloaded onto him. "We can''t just... we can''t just execute some random peasant Eli. I know there¡¯s potential justification, but we¡¯re edging really fucking close to war crime territory.¡±


    A mirthless smile tugged at the corner of Elijah''s mouth as their cart slowly rumbled down the dirt road. "No, it''s not.¡± He said matter of factly, causing Bennett, Schwarz, and Coleman to raise an eyebrow. ¡°He qualifies for execution without trial or jury on the grounds of espionage and sabotage. The village is technically occupied territory."


    As the caravan trundled along the dirt road, Coleman found himself grappling with the legal and ethical implications of what Elijah had presented. The medic''s words, while technically correct, sat heavy in his gut.


    "I don''t know, man. This is a fine line.¡± He responded, knowing on an intellectual level that the waters of unconventional warfare were always muddied. The very nature of their work often required them to venture into morally grey, even morally black, territory in the name of operational security and success.


    It was a reality they had all been trained for, a scenario they had practiced countless times in exercises like Robin Sage. The unspoken understanding was that if no one ever found out, it never happened. But putting those methods into practice and making the conscious decision to end a life based on the cold calculus of necessity... was something else entirely.


    But if Coleman was honest with himself, he didn''t have the stomach for such pragmatic ruthlessness. The thought of blood on his hands, even in service of the greater good, made his skin crawl.


    He knew this was the right call, and yet, he was hesitant to allow Elijah to have his way unchecked. While it was an undeniably effective plan, it skirted the very edges of what Coleman considered acceptable. Of what was necessary in war and how to preserve their own humanity.


    As if sensing his internal conflict, Elijah leaned in close, his voice low and reassuring. "Relax," he said, his hand coming to rest on Coleman''s shoulder. "You don''t have to get your hands dirty, don''t have to wade through these muddy waters."


    Coleman looked up, meeting Elijah''s gaze. The medic''s eyes were calm, almost eerily so, as if he had long since made peace with the moral compromises their work demanded.


    "But, the decision affects more than just me or you," Elijah continued, his words measured and deliberate. "And whatever you decide, I''m certain she is going to act with her best interests in mind." The man said, flicking his gaze to Azeline, who sat in the carriage''s cab. The elf woman was leaning back in a lazy fashion as her long elven ears bounced up and down. As if sensing she was being discussed, she glanced their way in a relaxed fashion.


    As Coleman observed the silent exchange between Elijah and Azeline, a sense of unease crept over him. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the two had already discussed this scenario and had planned for it in advance.


    Elijah''s gaze locked with Azeline''s as he spoke up. "So, it seems the original plan''s still on. You think you can take him?"


    Azeline let out a thoughtful hum, her fingers drumming lightly on the side of the carriage. "He has that pesky bow," she mused, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "And I don''t have a shield anymore...." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered the problem. "But if I can get the jump on him, close the gap... it shouldn''t be an issue."


    A sigh left Coleman''s breath as he listened to their plan to assassinate the Village head was merely a tactical inconvenience. Because, of course, they were, and of course it was¡­


    "It''s apparent that the man is a veteran warrior and a mana user to boot," Azeline continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "But, he''s middling at best. Certainly no match for me in close quarters."


    Coleman swallowed hard, his mind reeling. The casual confidence with which Azeline spoke of ending a life, the way she weighed Sofan''s abilities as if he were just another obstacle to be overcome¡­


    "Or," Elijah spoke up with a voice carrying a note of nonchalance, "we could just shoot him in the back instead. We have legal justification," he said, his tone almost bored. "Espionage, sabotage, the threat to operational security, and all that jazz. Would be simple and easy."


    A groan left Coleman''s mouth as he put his head into his hand. ¡°Jesus¡­¡± He muttered silently. ¡°We can¡¯t just¡­ Execute him in cold blood. That¡¯s not what we do.¡±


    Elijah huffed softly in amusement as a toothy smirk flashed across his face. ¡°Isn¡¯t this what we do?¡± He challenged his team leader in a casual manner.


    A look of shock briefly crept across Coleman¡¯s face before he let out a loud derisive laugh. It was a bitter and resigned chuckle as he hung his head, The reality of their situation seemed to bore down on him like a physical force. "So, that''s it then?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Our choices are either to commit premeditated murder ourselves or be complicit in murder and allow a local under our authority to do it for us. Astounding. Truly astounding."


    In true Elijah fashion, his insufferable smile never wavered as he just shrugged. "What did you expect, Cole? Did you think this would be a nice clean, brisk walk? That we''d just waltz in like valiant heroes and save these poor, hapless, malnourished peasants from oppression like in some kind of fairy tale?"


    Coleman''s frown deepened as he glared intensely at Elijah from the corner of his eye. The medic''s words, while harsh, carried an uncomfortable ring of truth. They weren''t here to be heroes. They were here to disrupt their enemy and secure the interests of their nation in a hostile and unfamiliar land. And sometimes, that meant making hard choices. Choices that would haunt them and stain their souls with the blood of the guilty and sometimes the innocent.


    This village chief was most likely no monster. He was just a man who was doing what he believed was in the best interest of his family and people.


    Sensing he had struck a nerve, Elijah continued to press. "This is our job.¡± He said in a low voice with a hint of disdain. ¡°It''s messy, it''s brutal, and it''s often morally grey at best. We¡¯re not exactly the good guys or some¨C"


    ¡°Enough, Eli.¡± Coleman growled as his jaw clenched and his hand balled into a fist.


    He wanted to argue; he wanted to refute Elijah¡¯s cynical worldview with every fiber of his being and say that sure, they had a dirty job, but they could still conduct it honorably. But he knew it would fall on deaf ears. Elijah was, in every sense of the word, a wolf.


    On the surface, Elijah was all charm and wit, his easy smile and quick tongue endearing him to those around him. He had a way of making everyone laugh and feel like they were the center of his world, as if their thoughts and feelings truly mattered. But beneath that veneer of warmth and humor, there was a coldness. A calculating ruthlessness that allowed him to get his hands dirty and clinically make the hard choices without even batting an eye.


    It was a duality that Coleman had always struggled to reconcile.


    Coleman heaved a heavy sigh, the weight of the decision bearing down on him like a physical force. He glanced at the other two teammates riding in the carriage, seeking their input and perspective.


    Bennett and Schwarz, who had been silent throughout the exchange, seemed to be grappling with their own thoughts. They looked off into the distance with pensive and troubled expressions.


    "What do you think?" Coleman asked, his voice heavy with the burden of command. "About all of this?"


    Schwarz was the first to respond in a low and measured voice. "It''s a tough call, boss," he said, his gaze still fixed on some distant point. "But I think Eli''s right. This is the nature of the beast." He continued while turning to face Coleman. "We''ve all got blood on our hands, one way or another. It''s just a question of how much and for what purpose."


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    As all eyes turned to Bennett, but the engineer simply shrugged in response. "Look, no one likes it," he replied nonchallantly despite the weight of the topic. "But what other choice do we have? The local is just going to gut him anyway, right?" He gestured towards Azeline, who was staring at them with detached interest.


    "What happens if we stop her? He rats us out, we bug out, and they burn the village in retaliation?¡± Bennett continued as his words took on a pragmatic edge. ¡°One body isn''t going to make a difference if you ask me."


    Coleman sighed, running a hand over his face. He knew Bennett was right, knew that in the grand scheme of things, one life weighed against the success of their mission and the safety of the village was a small price to pay.


    But it didn''t make the decision any easier to bear.


    He looked at Elijah, at the calculating gleam in the medic''s eye. "You''re sure there''s no other way? No angle we haven''t considered?"


    Elijah laughed as he shook his head. ¡°Bro HATES us.¡± He answered as he pointed towards the head of the convoy. ¡°Guy went out of his way to irreparably damage his relationship with his son to head a convoy he could have delegated to anyone else in order to rat us out.¡±


    ¡°At YOUR instigation.¡± Coleman hissed, but Elijah just shrugged with a cheeky smile spread across his face.


    Closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath, Coleman remained quiet as grim resolution washed over him. ¡°Fine,¡± he relented and knocked on the wall of the cart. ¡°But, make it clean, make it quick, and make it quiet. I don¡¯t want any blowback from this bullshit.¡±


    A sadistic glint flashed in Elijah¡¯s eyes as he clapped his hands together and turned to Azeline as he switched to a language she could understand. ¡°Games on, but we gotta make it clean.¡± He spoke to the woman in an excited and light-hearted tone that belied the grim work they were going to undertake.


    Azeline tapped her chin thoughtfully as a soft hum escaped her lips. A multitude of options started to race through her mind, and each scenario seemed just as valid as the other. She was intimately familiar with this route, having traversed it countless times as a freelancer on both legitimate and less-than-legal jobs.


    "Well, I¡¯m pretty familiar with this area," she mused while her hand shot up to scratch behind her long ear. "The Empire usually patrols this area pretty heavily since it''s known to be a haven for highwaymen, kobold raiders, and scavengers looking for an easy mark."


    The others looked at each other as she paused. They knew that whatever plan Azeline was formulating, it would be cunning and ruthlessly efficient.


    "We have options," Azeline continued, her fingers drumming lightly on her thigh. "Your little war against them had kicked everything into a fuss.¡± She said with her finger now twirling a lock of hair. ¡°For instance, with the decline in security, we could scout ahead, find a checkpoint or a known scavenger den, and make the village head accompany us under the guise of ensuring the caravan''s safety."


    Elijah nodded, catching onto her train of thought. "And then we do him in, making it look like the work of bandits or monsters."


    Azeline showed a predatory smile. "Exactly. No one would question it, not out here. The roads are dangerous, people are desperate, and accidents happen all the time."


    Coleman''s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He didn''t like it, the casual discussion of cold-blooded murder. But his mind flashed back to an earlier statement Elijah had made.


    They were in the wildlands now.


    As their assassination plot started to slowly come together, the conspirators drifted off to entertain themselves as the convoy maintained its steady but agonizingly slow pace. The Australian SASR, riding in their Long Range Patrol Vehicles (LRPVs), and the rest of the ODA in their Ground Mobility Vehicles (GMVs), almost regretted bringing their vehicles as they crawled at a snail''s pace.


    Their gas-guzzling engines became a constant hum against the countryside backdrop while drones whirred and buzzed above them to scout ahead. The operators worked in shifts watching the feeds as the camera and sensor feeds swept across the landscape for any signs of trouble.


    But as they traveled, the earthbound humans couldn''t help but be struck by the beauty and strangeness of the land around them. One would think that such wide-open plains that stretched out before them would be the same as their homeland. however, that assumption couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. Even the sea of gently swaying grasses and wildflowers that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight had some kind of magical, alien twist to it.


    Whether it be some kind of strange and wondrous fauna or bioluminescent foliage, the surreal alien nature could be seen everywhere. Herds of what looked like deer with bodies seeming to be made of living bark grazed peacefully in the distance. Their antlers were not the typical bone and velvet but rather intricately woven branches that seemed to pulse with a soft, inner light.


    As one of these majestic creatures raised its head, the otherworlders caught a glimpse of its eyes - deep, soulful pools that seemed to hold a strange power. For a moment, it was as if the creature was looking directly at them, acknowledging their presence in its domain.


    Other beasts that dotted the landscape were equally fantastical. A flock of enormous birds with wings shimmering with iridescent colors, spanning at least a dozen feet across, took flight as the convoy passed. They flew in a perfectly synchronized formation that shifted and changed like a kaleidoscope in the sky.


    In the distance, a herd of what appeared to be wild boars grazed. But as the operators focused their binoculars, they realized these were no ordinary swine. Their coats were a deep, hellish red, and had tusks that seemed to glow red hot as they stabbed into the ground, singing the grass and dirt with each jab.


    ¡°I wonder if they taste good.¡± Bennett suddenly spoke up about the otherworldly boars that caught everyone off guard. They had been so engrossed in the strange beauty of the landscape that the idea of actually interacting with it, let alone eating it, seemed almost sacrilegious.


    "Dude, the whiplash," Schwarz said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I like how we went from conspiring an assassination plot to a fucking barbecue."


    "Hey, a man''s gotta eat, alright. And those pigs look like they''d make some damn fine bacon."


    Bennett shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hell, they might even come pre-roasted."


    A few chuckles broke out amongst the group, but their eyes eventually were drawn to Azeline for an answer. The woman was riding in the back of the cart, peering over Yana''s tiny shoulder, staring at the small laptop Elijah had set up to entertain the little fairy in case of extended periods of boredom. She seemed completely oblivious to everything around her as she lay on her stomach with her head propped up on her hands and her legs kicking lazily in the air.


    Azeline, on the other hand, had finally noticed that everyone''s attention was once again focused on her. She split her attention between the curious display and the men who were now staring at her for an answer. The elf¡¯s head snapped back and forth with an expression that said she was both confused as to what they wanted and annoyed at the fact they wanted something from her.


    "What?" she said, her voice sharp. "Why are all of you staring at me?"


    The men raised their eyebrows in disbelief as they stared at her incredulously. Before even coming here, they knew that modern media would probably have a rather¡­ potent effect, but seeing it in action was something else entirely.


    Unable to contain himself, Bennett chose to speak up. "Sorry to interrupt your episode of Power Rangers, but-"


    However, he was suddenly cut off by Yana, who jumped to her feet and punched the air with her tiny fists. "Ya! Get ''em, Red! Get ''em!" she cheered enthusiastically


    Snapping her head back to the screen, a gasp escaped Azeline¡¯s lips as her eyes widened, and an "ohhh" of excitement formed on her face. In this part of the episode, the Red Ranger flew through the air, executing a perfect flying kick that sent the monster tumbling away.


    The men watched in stunned silence while jaws went slack with disbelief. Here they were, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, plotting small-scale regime change and bacon, and their two most crucial allies were utterly absorbed in a children''s television show.


    Bennett, his patience wearing thin, clapped his hands loudly. "Hey! Hey, pay attention!" he called out, his voice sharp with frustration.


    Azeline spun around, a snarl twisting her delicate features. "What!? What do you want!?" she snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance.


    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but quietly let out a strange laugh before looking up. ¡°Can we... Can we eat those burning boar things?¡± he asked as he jerked his finger over at the creatures in the distance.


    The elf''s head snapped towards Elijah, her eyes narrowing. "Sure," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm and irritation. "If you want to shit fire and burn a hole through your guts in the process."


    Without waiting for a response, Azeline turned back to her show, her attention once again consumed by the colorful antics on the screen.


    A sigh left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he brought his hand up and started rubbing his face in a soothing manner. He could feel a headache starting to take hold as a dull throbbing sensation seemed to take hold with the absurdity of the situation.


    But before they could fully process this new information, their headsets crackled to life. "Baron Actual, this is Warlock," came the voice of the SASR contingent leader. "We''ve got eyes on a concentration of armed personnel five klicks up the road. Hold one."


    Elijah and Coleman exchanged a loaded glance, and a creeping smile spread across the medic¡¯s face.


    "Showtime," a low and grim sort of eagerness left Elijah¡¯s mouth.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 69

    A deep-seated frown graced Sofan¡¯s face as he looked around the plain to see the sight of otherworldly foreigners and their abominable contraptions surrounding him. They set themselves up in a defensive position around the caravan itself.


    However, what upset him was that the otherworlder his son kept harking on about was standing before him, shoving some fanciful magical tool to his face. From his position on the cart, Sofan squinted his and lowered his head to get a better look at what this infernal man wanted to show him as a barely contained look of disdain spread across his face.


    Sofan leaned in further, squinting at the small screen, trying to make out the colorful shapes as he begrudgingly cooperated. For a moment, his usual dislike for the otherworldly humans was replaced by a flicker of worry.


    The device showed an aerial view of a group of armed men wearing equipment and carrying themselves in a manner that marked them as something more than simple bandits. However, there was something about a small contingent of them that set the alarm bells off in his head to scream in full force.


    "Recognize any of them?" Elijah asked, his voice casual but his gaze intense.


    "Freelancers," Sofan groaned in a tight voice. "I see a few of ¡®em, mixed in with them bandits."


    Elijah nodded as if this confirmed a suspicion. "And the bandits... they''re not your usual desperate lot, are they?"


    Sofan shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "No. These ones are well-equipped and organized. The sort that usually looks to take richer folk ransom."


    Azeline struggled to hold her poker face and not let out an amused huff. Before they made their way up here, she had informed Elijah and the other humans about who they were up against.


    These were no mere highwaymen but professional thugs in the employ of a merchant named Master Simol. Simol was known for using these men to harass rivals and to clear the area for his smuggling operations, ensuring that his illicit goods could move unimpeded.


    As a matter of fact, she even knew who these freelancers were after recognizing one of them. Among the rabble was a man she had frequently worked with in the past, clearing the forests of monsters and paying off patrols for smugglers bringing in contraband from the goblin cities. He was one of Einar''s lackeys, a backstabbing piece of shit who ran that team that killed her teammates and failed to kill her.


    Einar himself was a conniving and treacherous piece of shit. It seemed he was the one who plotted to take Azeline out, viewing her as a threat to his operations, seeing that she worked for someone whose position he was gunning for ¨C the bastard.


    "Would they bother with a peasant caravan like ours?" Elijah raised an eyebrow and asked Sofan.


    Sofan hesitated, his brow furrowed. "Hard to say¡­¡± he replied, scratching his rough patch. We usually won''t be worth the time, but they might be desperate or think we carry something valuable. especially with you lot slinkin¡¯ about¡­"


    Elijah let out an exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°So we run into conflict no matter what¡­¡± He exhaled, throwing his arms up and letting them slap his side. ¡°Fuck, so now what?¡± Looking to Azeline, he was greeted with a noncommittal shrug.


    A moment of silence passed as Elijah looked around at his team¡¯s and the SASR¡¯s vehicles idling around them. The low rumble of engines echoed in the air as he pretended to contemplate on what to do next.


    After noticing Sofan seemed a little more uncomfortable about the prospects of the unknown, Elijah decided to capitalize on the opportunity to steer the situation in a more favorable direction. "What if," he began, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of suggestion, "we went and talked to these highwaymen? Maybe I can see if they''ll agree to give us safe passage?"


    The village head¡¯s eyebrows shot up as surprise and skepticism warred on his face. "Talk to them? Are you mad?"


    ¡°No, no. Hear me out.¡± Elijah raised his hand, indicating he had more to the plan. ¡°I have some shiny shit I¡­ repurposed from this Knight here.¡± Elijah motioned to the immobilized knight captain chained to the LRPV. ¡°Maybe we can convince them we¡¯re not a threat and let us pass without incident. After all, we have no quarrel with them, and everyone likes money."


    Sofan frowned deeply when he looked towards the knight captain, clearly offended by the idea. The thought of negotiating with bandits, the scum of the road with the spoils of a loyal Imperial, went against every instinct and moral he held dear. But as he looked at the aerial image again, at the number of armed men and the presence of the freelancers, he knew he couldn''t disagree. They were outnumbered and outmatched, and if it came to a fight¡­


    There would be casualties. More death, more blood on his hands.


    "And if they don''t agree?" he asked with tension tight in his voice. "If they decide to attack anyway?"


    Elijah''s smile took on a harder edge, a glint of steel in his eyes. "Then we take them out. Right, then and there." There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. It was a statement of fact, a promise of violence if the situation demanded it.


    A chill ran down Sofan¡¯s spine as he swallowed hard. Once again, he was reminded of these otherworlders'' ruthless practicality. They were not men to be trifled with, not opponents to be underestimated. He needed to get to the Seraphic garrison and warn them of these monsters before they dug themselves in too deep. And if that meant sacrificing some of his morals to do so, then so be it.


    Furrowing his brows in thought, Sofan looked between Elijah and Azeline. "So," he said, his voice slipping into a thicker, more pronounced hick accent, "what are ye plannin''? Go out there by yerselves?"


    Another moment passed as Elijah pretended to work through the possibilities. Then, with a glance at Sofan, he spoke. "Actually, it might go a long way in convincing them to let us pass without incident if you came with us as an official representative of your village."


    Sofan''s eyebrows shot up, surprise and unease flickering across his face. But before he could voice his objections, Elijah continued. "We''ll act as foreign traveling mercenary or... freelancer escorts you hired to help ward away the dangers of the road. The Grovemaws and the, um..."


    He looked to Azeline, making a flapping motion with his hand and pointing to the sky, searching for the right term.


    "Rotwings," Azeline supplied in a matter-of-fact tone.


    Elijah nodded, turning back to Sofan. "Grovemaws and rotwings!¡± He snapped his fingers and pointed at Sofan. ¡°We''re your hired muscle, here to ensure safe passage for your people and your goods."


    Obviously uncomfortable with the idea of aligning himself with what he considered the Enemy, Sofan''s mouth twisted. Even in pretense, this fact clearly grated against his sensibilities. But as he looked out over the caravan, at the faces of his people ¨Cinnocent and unwitting¨C he knew he had little choice.


    "Alright," he said at last, the word heavy with resignation. "We''ll play it yer way. But I''ll be watchin'' ye, every step of the way. No funny business, any sign of sellin¡¯ us out..." He let the implication hang in the air, a reminder of the fragile nature of their alliance.


    With a smile that never waivered, Elijah tilted his head in confusion and furrowed his brows. ¡°I don¡¯t see why¡­¡± He looked at Azeline with a puzzled look on his face. ¡°We¡¯d do that, seeing as we¡¯re trying to get to the same destination, but I have no intentions of hurting your people.¡± He responded.


    Azeline, who had been quietly observing the exchange, interjected. "If we''re going to do this, we need to do it soon." Her voice was calm but carried a note of urgency. "The longer we linger, the more chance we give them to spot us and make the first move."


    Sofan nodded in agreement with a grim expression. He understood the tactical disadvantage of hesitation and the risk of allowing the enemy to seize the initiative. ¡°Aye, let''s be done with this.¡±


    Seeing the consensus, Elijah slapped Azeline''s shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie and readiness. "I''m gonna head over to the Australians, let them know what''s going down." He turned to Sofan, giving him a nod. "Be ready in 5 minutes."


    Without waiting for a response, Elijah strode over to the LRPV, where Ian sat, his rifle resting on a chair, the barrel pointed directly at the back of their prisoner''s head. Still bound and hooded, the knight captain sat motionless, a picture of defeated resignation.


    As Elijah approached, Ian looked up, his face a mask of professional detachment. "What''s the word, mate?" he asked, his voice low and steady. ¡°The dickhead buy it?¡±


    "We''re all green," Elijah replied, folding his arms on top of the rear of the vehicle and leaning against it to rest. "Conditions are going. We''re good to proceed." He then nodded to the knight captain. "We''re also going to cut this shitter loose and at the same time,¡± jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating Sofan. ¡°Aze and I are gonna dispose of this guy."


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    An eyebrow on Ian''s raised slightly at the development, and they¡¯re getting rid of the village head RIGHT NOW. However, he didn''t question it and didn''t ask for justification or explanation. He knew they were getting rid of the bastard due to how squirrely he¡¯d been, but it was surprising.


    But he couldn¡¯t help but smirk at how clever it was as well. Using the pretext of a bandit negotiations gone wrong to get rid of a thorn in your side. "Roger that," he said as the barrel of his rifle remained trained on their prisoner''s head. "And the bandits? Or whatever the cunts are?"


    A glint of anticipation in his eyes as Elijah''s grin took on a feral edge. "Smoke ''em," he said, his voice a low growl. "Soon as we gut Sofa or whatever the fuck his name is, just waste the fucks except the dickhead with the big axe."


    Ian nodded in satisfaction. "With pleasure," he said, his finger caressing the trigger guard. "Well played, yanks.¡±


    Elijah clapped his hands together in silent acknowledgment that they were on the same page. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away with Azeline where Sofan was still starting to get ready.


    As he approached, he could see the tension in his postures, the coiled readiness of a herbivore about to take flight. Azeline, on the other hand, had her hand resting on the hilt of her blade as she met Sofan¡¯s gaze with a nod.


    "Let''s do this," Elijah said in a low rumble. "Stay sharp, stay alert. And don¡¯t let anyone sweet talk you get ya in the back.¡±


    Sofan snorted, his eyes narrowing at Elijah''s warning. "As if I''d be foolish enough to let a bandit take my rear," he scoffed, his pride bristling at the implication. "I''ve dealt with their kind before, boy. I know their tricks."


    A small, amused smile spread across Elijah''s face as he turned and gestured towards the waiting vehicles. "Then let''s not keep them waiting," he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of steel.


    It took a matter of minutes for the vehicles to navigate the rough terrain, their engines growling as they ate up the distance to the designated staging area. The clearing, chosen for its strategic position and clear lines of sight, was the perfect spot to set their plan in motion.


    As the LRPV carrying the prisoner rolled to a stop, Azeline was already in motion. With deft, practiced movements, she unchained the knight captain, her eyes never leaving his face. "Listen carefully," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If you try anything stupid, I''ll gut you like a fish."


    The man groaned, his one good eye blinking against the sudden light as Azeline removed the sack from his head. His other eye, swollen shut from her earlier ministrations, gave him a lopsided, almost comical appearance.


    But there was nothing funny about the situation. As Azeline bound his hands tightly with rope, the knight captain could feel the eyes of the otherworldly operators on him, their gazes hard and unforgiving.


    "These men," Azeline continued, jerking her head towards the operators, "they have boomsticks. You saw what those boomsticks can do. So don''t fuck with them, or they''ll end you."


    The knight captain swallowed hard, the memory of the otherworlders'' devastating weapons still fresh in his mind. He knew, with a sinking certainty, that any attempt to escape would be met with swift and lethal force.


    As Azeline finished her work and trotted after the men in the distance, the other vehicle was already moving out, seeking a better position to provide support if needed. Sofan, flanked by four of the otherworldly humans, began to march towards the location of the bandits while putting on an air of relative important albeit subdued


    Elijah, had snagged a ballistics shield from the Australians as he took point and marched out in the open field. His eyes scanned the tree line in search for any sign of movement. Any hint of people hiding and waiting to ambush them. However, as far as he could tell, no soul was in those trees, which was confirmed by the drone lingering above.


    Azeline trotted to catch up, drawing her weapon and getting ready as the tension in the air started to grow. The weight of the impending confrontation was bearing down on them all. But beneath it, there was a sense of anticipation, a excitement to finally put their plans into action.


    As they approached the bandit''s position, Elijah''s mind was already racing, calculating angles and lines of fire. He knew that the success of their mission, the safety of the caravan, and their own lives depended on the next few moments.


    And as the first signs of the bandits came into view, as the sound of rough laughter and clinking metal reached their ears¡­ He knew he was past the point of no return. It was all or nothing.


    The well-equipped bandits, fifteen in number, slinked towards the approaching village leader and the otherworlders, their movements confident and professional. They held their weapons with a casual ease, a clear indication of their competence and experience.


    Their laughter and cackling filled the air, a sound that spoke of a cruel amusement, a sense that they viewed their uninvited guests as little more than fools walking willingly into a trap. They moved with a predatory grace like wolves circling their prey.


    And as they drew closer, Elijah''s gaze was drawn to the man at their head. The one man Azeline had pointed out earlier as Einar''s goon, and he was a rough-looking character. With a face scarred by battle and eyes that gleamed with a cold, he sauntered over with a confidence that suggested he already won the battle.


    The man bandit leader¡¯s posture radiated confidence as he spoke, "Well, well, well," he drawled in a mocking voice. "What do we have here? A bunch of lost little lambs wandering into the lion''s den?"


    A chorus of harsh and grating chuckles left his men¡¯s mouths as they spread out to confront Sofan and the otherworlders. Even though they eyed these strangers with a wary gaze, they still held her weapons lazily.


    If their leader didn¡¯t quite take them seriously, then why should they as well? However, despite his confidence, the bandit leader''s gaze swept over the group, taking in their humble attire but unfamiliar weapons. There was a flicker of suspicion. A flash of doubt as his eyes went to the black or tan rods in their hands and then to their equally strange carriage.


    Shaking his head, his attention then shifted to Sofan as a sneer twisting his lips. "And you, old man. What''s your game? You think you can just waltz into our territory with a bunch of foreign dogs at your heels. What do ya want?"


    He spat on the ground in contempt. "Either lost your mind, or you''ve come to pay tribute. And judging by the look of you, I''m guessing it''s the latter."


    Sofan bristled, his pride stung by the man''s words, but before he could respond, Elijah stepped forward with his rifle dangling casually from his chest. "We''re not here to pay tribute," he said in a calm and even voice.


    Snapping his head to the side, Sofan looked at Elijah with a shocked expression. Their entire goal here was to pay tribute so they could pass through peacefully and only move towards aggression if it was absolutely necessary.


    But the otherworlder immediately went to hostilities.


    Seemingly unfazed by the village head¡¯s look, Elijah pressed on with a nonchalant attitude. "You''re Einar''s boy, right?" he asked in a casual yet probing tone.


    The leader frowned as his grip tightened around the shaft his axe. "I dunno what ya talkin¡¯ about, boy." he growled while shifting into a more ready stance and narrowing his eyes dangerously.


    A huff of amusement left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he looked the leader up and down, but his gaze shifted to the bandits lingering in the rear. "And you lot work for Simol?¡±


    The demand hung in the air as the bandits exchanged worried glances. A mix of confusion and anger grew on their faces as they drew their weapons. "What''s it to ya, foreigner?" one of them spat, echoing their leader''s dangerous edge.


    ¡°Eh, got business with the man.¡± Elijah shrugged and slapped his side pouch, which caused an audible jingle to echo. ¡°I owe him some money, and I¡¯d like to get this debt out of the way.¡±


    "Ah, forgive us, but Simol is currently indisposed at the moment." An evil cackle left the mouth of a more dense bandit, hinting at some sinister meaning behind his words. ¡°But we¡¯d gladly take it off ya hands!¡± An oof echoed out from the one who made the ominous statement as his comrade jabbed him in the side, especially wheh noticed something out of the corner of their eye starting to approach.


    Flanking them from the side was a strange rectangular cart moving upon its own power just barely a hundred meters away. The thing came to a stop, and the top of it buzzed with activity, with people dismounting and pointing strange black objects in their direction. The vehicle''s presence seemed to unsettle them as their eyes shifted nervously.


    "What the fuck is that?" one of them muttered with his grip tightening around his weapon.


    Elijah shrugged in a nonchalant manner, not even bothering to acknowledge the Austrian LRPV''s presence. "Don''t worry about it. Focus on us right now. I''m asking you a question." He said, snapping his fingers to refocus their attention on him


    The casual dismissal seemed to anger the bandits further as their postures grew even more aggressive. The leader stepped forward with his face twisted into a snarl. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it!? The fuck you mean!?¡± He snarled as his eyes shifted back and forth. ¡°That thing comes any closer, and I swears to the gods I¡¯ll cut ya down where ya stand!¡±


    "What happened to Simol?" Elijah pressed in an infuriatingly calm voice, ignoring the threat. "Why''d you try to kill Azeline?"


    At the mention of Azeline''s name, the leader''s gaze snapped to Elijah as his eyes widened in recognition and sudden unease. But before he could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.


    "Hey there, Tamos!" Azeline called out, emerging from behind Elijah after finally being able to catch up. The woman waved her hand joyfully as a bright smile spread across her face. "Long time no see!"


    Tamos, the leader of this band of freelancers and bandits, stared at Azeline in utter disbelief. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He seemed to be frozen where he stood as his mind struggled to process the sudden appearance of a woman he thought was long dead.


    But Azeline wasn''t done. In a fluid motion, she drew her sword with the blade gleaming in the sunlight. And before anyone could react, she plunged it into Sofan''s chest, the razor-sharp edge slicing through flesh and bone with sickening ease.


    Sofan''s eyes widened as a gasp of shock and pain escaped his lips. Gladeheart tumbled to the floor as the village leader staggered back, his hands clutching at the gushing wound and blood pouring between his fingers.


    Then, before anyone else could react, an unholy barrage of unending snaps and cracks erupted as every weapon on the LRPV opened fire and made its presence known by gunning down the mass of bandits behind Tamos.


    Elijah turned his head and made eye contact with Azeline as screams and yelps erupted from where the bandits stood. ¡°He¡¯s all yours, have fun.¡± The man gestured towards Tamos and handed her a ballistic shield.


    A cold and ruthless smile spread across Azelines face.


    "Now then," she growled in a sadistic voice as she marched towards her shocked prey. "Let''s talk about that passage fee, shall we?"

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 70

    Pain throbbed throughout Shaw''s face as he sat in misery. If he were honest, however, his entire body had been sore after being basically tied down in a way that made it impossible for him to move with every material imaginable. It had appeared his last attempt to break free and control the situation had soured his captor''s moods enough to ensure such a thing wasn¡¯t possible again.


    Not that he¡¯d ever bother to try again after the beating he¡¯d received.


    But to his surprise, off came the metal binding, and off came the hood his, and in its place were simple ropes and the open fresh air. Sure, the coarse fibers bit into his wrists and chaffed his skin with every small movement. But the discomfort of his bonds was a welcomed relief even though agony consumed his face.


    His nose was a mangled mess after being shattered by that infernal woman¡¯s brutal strike. Breathing through it had become an impossibility as each attempt sent shards of pain lancing through his skull. Instead, he was forced to take ragged, open-mouthed breaths with the air whistling past his cracked lips.


    And his eye... Gods, his eye. The damned thing was swollen shut, and the flesh around it puffed out to grotesque proportions. It felt like he had a second head growing from his face. A head that throbbed and pulsated with pain and pressure.


    Through his one good eye, Shaw peered around, trying to take stock of his surroundings. The two strange warriors who had been left to guard him stood nearby, their postures relaxed but alert, holding their menacing weapons with a casual competence.


    One of them, his eyes hidden behind strange, reflective lenses, turned his head in a slow and methodical manner as he scanned the perimeter. But even as he surveyed the area, Shaw could feel the man''s attention on him. It was as if there was a palpable weight that never fully lifted, no matter where the man turned his head.


    On the other hand, the other soldier kept his gaze fixed on Shaw. His expression was not of malice, cruelty, or gloating¡ªjust a cool and menacing detachment. It was the look of a man who had a job to do and would see it done.


    Shaw shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. But every movement sent fresh waves of pain crashing through his battered body. He wanted to weep, to rage, to curse the fates that had brought him to this low point, but he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t.


    He was a Knight Captain of an Imperial Count and stubbornly held onto the last shreds of pride he had earned through his trail to get there. Even though he was reduced to a beaten, broken prisoner in the hands of foreign devils, his accomplishments kept his tears at bay and kept his tongue still.


    As Shaw sat there, wallowing in his own misery, his gaze drifted to the ropes tethering his hands, his hands this abominable vehicle. The coarse fibers dug deep into his skin, but for some reason, it wasn¡¯t as thick or tight as last time.


    But as he thought about this oversight, he couldn¡¯t help but think back to the other night when he had summoned the strength to snap his bonds. The fact that they thought that simple ropes could keep him still seemed laughable at best; it was a trivial manner when it came to mana users like him.


    A surge of hope, of defiance, welled up within him. He could do it again. He could break free and make a run for it. Maybe, just maybe, he could escape this nightmare, find his way back home,, and disappear like he planned.


    His muscles tensed, and his mana started to flow as he prepared to make his move. But just as he was about to act, he felt the weight of his captors'' gazes settle upon him once more. Looking up, Shaw met their cold eyes that spoke of years of bloodshed, and at that moment, he felt his resolve crumble, his defiance wither and die.


    Their stares were piercing, unnervingly so. It was as if they could see right through him, could read his every thought and intention like an open book. There was a coldness there, a merciless pragmatism that told him, in no uncertain terms, that they would end him for even the most trivial of things.


    Slowly and reluctantly, Shaw let the tension drain from his body. He sagged back, allowing the fight to flow out of him like air from a punctured bladder. A heavy sigh left his mouth, but just as he was about to sink and stew in self-pity, a cacophonous series of cracks rang out in the distance. It was the sound that ingrained itself into Shaw¡¯s memory from when his convoy was ambushed.


    As the rapid-fire staccato echoed out like a hive of angry bees, the two soldiers guarding him exchanged a quiet and knowing look. With a nod, they slinked off into the tree line, moving with a predatory grace that belied their bulky frames and heavy equipment.


    Shaw watched them go, a mix of confusion and morbid curiosity churning in his gut. He had no idea what was happening or what fresh hell was being unleashed, but all that Shaw knew was he was now alone.


    With a quick glance around, Shaw waited for his captors to return, but as seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity, nothing happened.


    And then, cutting through the unnatural stillness, came the unmistakable sound of steel clashing against steel. It was a noise Shaw knew all too well, the ringing clang of weapons meeting in the heat of battle. His heart began to race and adrenaline  started to pump through his veins.


    A fight? No¡­ A duel¡­? But between whom? His captors and some unknown foe?


    Shaw''s heart pounded in his chest as he realized the gravity of his situation. He was alone, unguarded, with the sounds of battle raging in the distance. He found himself with a golden opportunity, a chance at freedom that he couldn''t afford to waste.


    With another furtive glance around, Shaw sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. He gathered his energy and his mana and focused it on his body, enhancing every aspect of himself. He could feel the power flowing through him, hardening his flesh and amplifying his strength.


    And then, with a mighty flex and a guttural roar, Shaw strained against his bonds. The thick and sturdy ropes stretched taut as their fibers creaked under the immense pressure. For a moment, it seemed as if they would hold and Shaw''s efforts would be in vain, but then, with a sudden, sharp snap, the ropes gave way. They tore apart like tissue paper, shredded by the sheer force of Shaw''s mana-enhanced might. The cool morning air rushed over his newly freed skin, a sensation that was both invigorating and terrifying.


    As his body tensed, Shaw shut his eyes in anticipation of a blow, a shout of alarm, or a terrifying crack of otherworldly weaponry, He sat there listening to anything to indicate that his captors had witnessed his escape attempt. But there was nothing. No angry yell, no explosions of those strange, thunderous weapons. Just the distant sounds of battle and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.


    He was free. Against all odds, he had broken his bonds and created an opportunity for himself. But he knew it wouldn''t last. His captors would return to discover his absence, and when they did... there would be hell to pay.


    So without a second thought, Shaw sprang to his feet and darted into the forest. His steps were fueled by a primal urge to survive as they carried him in the opposite direction of the sounds of clashing steel.


    The man ran as fast and as far as he could as branches whipped his face and roots snared his feet. But he was alive. He was free. And he¡¯ll have his revenge on Eira and that damned dark elf.


    -


    Just as Azeline snatched the strange shield from Elijah''s hands, she burst forward in a surge of violence before anyone could even blink an eye. The distance between her and Tamos closed in an instant as she thrust her sword, still dripping with Sofan¡¯s blood, at the neck of her former colleague. with a vicious smile on her face as she thrust her sword, still dripping with Sofan¡¯s blood at the back of her former colleague.


    As Azeline''s blade flashed towards his throat, Tamos''s instincts kicked in. With a speed born of desperation, he lunged to the side as the razor-sharp edge missed his neck by mere inches. In the same fluid motion, he brought his massive two-handed axe around in a vicious horizontal cleave, sending the heavy blade whistling through the air.


    However, Azeline¡¯s reflexes were honed by countless decades of battle as a shieldmaiden, and reacted instantly. Her blade instantly whipped out in response and caught the metal shaft of Tamos¡¯ axe with a deafening and thunderous clang. Sparks flew everywhere as painful reverberations shot up the bandit¡¯s arms as he stumbled backward from the violent blow.


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    As the thunderous clang of the clashing weapons echoed through the air, Azeline was already in motion, not looking to give her opponent a moment to gain his bearing. With a speed that defied belief, she bolted forward with the strange, otherworldly shield leading the way.


    Still reeling from the jarring impact of his axe against Azeline''s blade, Tamos barely had time to register the movement before the shield slammed into his chest with the force of a battering ram. The ballistic shield, enhanced by Azeline''s mana, absorbed the impact and transferred it directly into Tamos''s body, sending him tumbling backward like a rag doll.


    The breath was driven from his lungs by the sheer force of the blow as he hit the ground hard and skidded along the grass. His axe jarred loose from his grip and clattered to the earth beside him while the sound of ringing echoed in his head.


    Tamos lay there for a few moments, stunned and gasping as his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The speed, the power behind Azeline''s attack... it was unreal. In the span of a heartbeat, she had disarmed the man and laid him low as if he were a mere novice.


    As he struggled to rise, Tamos saw Azeline leisurely approaching like a little girl going to play. She was in no hurry, he realized. She knew she had him beaten, knew that he was no longer a threat.


    A cruel and vicious spread across her face as she approached like a predator toying with its prey. But before she reached him, she veered off towards his fallen axe with her head tilting to the side as she regarded him with a look of mock concern.


    "Aww... are you okay?" she cooed with a voice dripping with false sweetness. "Did I scare you?"


    A chill ran down Tamos spine as a surge of primal fear screamed in his head like a horn, overpowering the rage and humiliation he felt at her taunting words. He wanted to snarl, to curse, to lash out with all the fury and hatred that boiled within him. But he couldn''t. His body wouldn''t obey, and he could only shake.


    The sound of light, girlish giggles left Azeline¡¯s mouth as she stood there. It was a sound utterly at odds with the vicious gleam in her eyes. "Did you think just because I have a pretty face, I was going to be an easy kill?" she asked, her tone one of mock curiosity. ¡°How cute¡­¡±


    She placed her foot under Tamos''s axe, flipping it towards him with a casual kick. The heavy weapon skidded across the ground, coming to rest just inches from his hand.


    "Pick it up," Azeline said with her voice still retaining its sweet tone.


    Tamos stared at the axe before turning his gaze toward Azeline. A cold realization dawned on him. His boss, Einar, had warned him about this woman... His boss had told Tamos that he needed to gut her first before she even knew what was going on. But Tamos, in his arrogance, had dismissed the warning. Tamos was a mana user, nearly unparalleled amongst the boys and he had thought himself invincible.


    Now all he could do was lay there in the dirt as every part of his body ached from Azeline''s brutal assault. She was beyond him, beyond anything he had ever faced. A monster in the guise of a woman. And as the said woman approached, Tamos felt a surge of panic. Forgetting his pride forgotten in the face of his mounting terror, he started to crawl away.


    But Azeline''s smile, once cruel and taunting, turned into a frown of disdain at his display of such cowardice. Here was the man who boasted and preened about his strength and skill, wallowing in the dirt like some fledgling freelancer on his first job. A man who had stabbed her in the back and murdered her friends, and now he dared to scramble away like some maiden before a thug?


    With a swift motion, she kicked the axe towards him again, the heavy blade skidding and bouncing off his desperately scrambling form. "I said..." Azeline''s voice was slow, each word enunciated with a cruel, commanding clarity. "Pick. It. Up."


    There was no sweetness now, no mock concern. Only a cold, implacable demand that was backed by the promise of pain beyond imagining.


    Tamos froze as his body trembled uncontrollably. He knew he was going to die here, knew that Azeline would not let him leave this place alive. So with shaking hands, he reached out and closed his fingers around the haft of his axe before unsteadily pushing himself to his feet.


    On the other hand, a joyful smile spread across Azeline''s face. Her eyes sparkled with a dark delight like a child gleefully receiving a new plaything. "Very good!" she exclaimed, her voice a jarring mix of sweet praise and mocking cruelty. "Very good, Tamos! I knew you had some fight left in you. It would have been so disappointing if you had just given up."


    Gracefully, Azeline began to circle her prey with her blade held loosely at her side. "Do you remember, Tamos," Azeline said, her tone conversational, as if they were merely two friends reminiscing about old times, "the last job we did together? The merchant caravan, the one with the silk and spices?"


    Tamos said nothing as his jaw clenched tight, and his breath came in short and painfully. But in his eyes, a flicker of memory, of recognition, was present.


    Azeline''s smile widened. "You were so proud of yourself, so boastful of your skills. You claimed you could take on a dozen men single-handedly.¡± Her blade bounced up and down playfully against her shoulder before she flicked a sultry look his way and winked. ¡°And you said the next job you were going to be on my belly.¡±


    A cruel, mocking chuckle left her mouth as she looked at him with hungry eyes. "I wonder, do you still believe that?" Azeline bit her lip as she fluttered her eyelashes. ¡°Is that why your little boy killed my friends first and tried to take me alive?¡±


    With a desperate and furious roar, Tamos lunged forward, putting every ounce of his remaining strength into one final, devastating blow in defiance. His axe blade glowed with a burning red sheen as he channeled his mana into the weapon, the metal crackling with arcane energy.


    But before the axe could find its mark, Azeline stomped the ground with a force that belied her slender frame. A ripple of power surged out from the point of impact, and the very earth seemed to come alive beneath her will.


    Caught off guard by the sudden shift beneath his feet, Tamos lost his balance and stumbled forward. And in that moment of vulnerability, Azeline¡¯s blade struck true. A silver blur pierced Tamos''s armor with sickening ease and rammed straight through his belly.


    The bandit leader''s eyes widened in shock, a gasp of pain and disbelief escaping his lips as he found himself impaled on Azeline''s sword. For a moment, they stood there, frozen in place as Tamos, his lifeblood, flooded down the blade and onto the hilt while Azeline looked down on him as if he were pathetic.


    Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, Azeline slammed her shield against Tamos''s body, pushing him off her blade and sending him flying backward. The man crumbled instantly, and his axe fell from shaking fingers as his hands desperately grabbed at the gaping wound in his stomach.


    Azeline stood over him, watching dispassionately as he struggled. To her, he was little more than some disgusting small creature that had shit on her boot. "You know," she said, her voice a soft, mocking whisper, "I made some new friends.¡±


    A bout of silence lingered for a few moments as she stabbed her sword into the ground and took out her dagger. ¡°They told me that the best way to repay repulsive people like you..." She leaned down, bringing her knife to Tamos face as her eyes bore into his. "...is to kill them. Slowly."


    Tamos''s eyes widened in horror, the implication of her words sinking in.


    Not too far away, Elijah and the SASR cringed as they walked towards the site of the bandit ambush, the sounds of Azeline''s "work" echoing throughout the field. The scene that greeted them was one of utter carnage, bodies strewn about like broken and bloodied dolls, staining the grass in vivid crimson.


    The otherworlders stomped through the field of dead and dying in search of anyone who wasn¡¯t at death''s door nor stupid enough to keep fighting. Every now and then, a shot rang out as one of them ended anyone foolish enough to be still holding onto their weapons. It was a grim, methodical task but it ensured that no threats remained.


    As he picked his way through the carnage, Elijah came across a couple of men huddled together, desperately trying to treat each other''s wounds. One had his legs riddled with bullets, while the other almost looked as if half of his shoulder was blown off. Elijah winced as he saw the devastation, recognizing the telltale damage of a .50 caliber round.


    Kneeling down beside the wounded men, Elijah put on his most disarming smile. "Hey guys!" he said in a jarring tone that contrasted with the grim surroundings. "How''s it goin''?"


    The bandits looked up at him, their faces a mix of terror and confusion as their mouths flapped like landed fish. Elijah held up a hand, forestalling any attempts at a response. "You know what, don''t answer that," he said, knowing how silly of a question that was as a few more shots rang out in the background, punctuating his words. His smile never wavered, but his eyes held a hard, calculating glint.


    "So... we''re looking for a few souls to tell us who killed that poor old village chief over there." Elijah glanced over his shoulder at Sofan''s lifeless body, sprawled out in the grass. "Can any of you tell me who done him in?"


    Both of the bandits exchanged bewildered looks. They were clearly thrown off by the question, but before they could formulate a response, the already agonizing screams went up a notch and turned bloodcurdling. It was a sound that spoke of unimaginable suffering, of a life being ended in the most horrific way possible.


    Elijah''s smile deepened, taking on a sharp, predatory edge. "Answer carefully now," he warned, his voice low and menacing. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want her to turn that blade on anyone else.¡±


    One of the bandits seemed to pick up on the unspoken threat in Elijah''s words, and started to babble in panic. "Tamos did it!" he blurted out as his words tumbled over each other in his haste to speak. "The damned bastard ran ''em through!"


    The other bandit, sensing a potential lifeline, quickly chimed in. "Ya! You just did yer part to defend the old man!" He added in a desperate voice as the screaming in the background intensified.


    ¡°Nice.¡± Elijah gave the two a thumbs-up and patted them on the shoulder, causing a yelp of pain to echo out.

 Operation Tolkien: Chapter 71

    Coleman let out an exhausted sigh as he stood at the head of the convoy, surveying the grim and pained faces of the villagers as they grieved over the lifeless corpse of their Village Leader. Some wept openly, while others covered their mouths as if trying to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm them.


    With Sofan''s, the villagers became a portrait of a shattered and lost community as they squabbled about what to do. Some petitioned to go back while they still could, while others thought it was best to send word to Afton so he could lead the convoy. But even in the depths of their grief and bickering, a glimmer of hope emerged. Donnu, the blacksmith, stepped forward with a face etched with guilt and regret but also with a quiet determination.


    With a heavy heart, Donnu placed a hand on Sofan''s lifeless corpse. He closed his eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer, a plea for forgiveness and strength. The other villagers looked at him, their gazes desperate and pleading. They needed guidance, needed someone to help them navigate this unfathomable loss.


    ¡°We continue to town!¡± Donnu bellowed, quietening everyone around him. ¡°Sofan organized this here caravan and we should see it through!¡±


    Turning away from the heartbreaking scene, Coleman let out a weary sigh. He reached up and removed his helmet, rubbing his eyes with a hand that trembled slightly. The weight of what they had done, the burden of the lives they had manipulated and destroyed, seemed to press down on him like a physical force.


    He turned towards Ian and Elijah, who were casually leaning against the LRPV, their postures relaxed despite the tension in the air. "I''m assuming they bought it?" Coleman asked, his voice low and strained.


    Coleman let out another sigh, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. "I never wanted this to happen," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I don''t like the idea of whacking civilians just because they were doing something they believed was right, even if it went against our interests."


    "And our operational security," Elijah added, wincing as Yana pulled at a few strands of his hair.


    A flash of anger flashed across Coleman¡¯s face as he shot him a quiet glare. But before he could respond, Ian chimed in, his heavy Australian accent cutting through the tension.


    "Mate, relax. It was buttery smooth," Ian interjected in an almost inappropriately cheerful tone, given the gravity of the situation. "We have cooperating witnesses, we have a fall guy, and we have someone with skin in the game."


    Coleman shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Buttery smooth," he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Is that what we''re calling it now?" He shook his head but didn¡¯t bother to comment any further.


    A bout of silence passed as Ian and Elijah looked at each other for a few moments. They understood Coleman''s reservations and his moral qualms. But they also knew that in the grand scheme of things, the success of their operation outweighed any individual life.


    Eventually, Coleman nodded, but he wasn¡¯t happy with how things went down. He knew that what they had done, while extremely abhorrent, was still necessary in the end. Another sigh left his mouth as he drifted towards the two prisoners being treated by the Australian medic in the back of the other LRPV.


    He then turned to Elijah and looked at him with an expression full of curiosity and apprehension. "What are you gonna do with them?" he asked, his voice low and guarded. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like leaving loose ends.¡±


    Elijah broke the biscuit in half as his team leader spoke and lifted it up so Yana could get the other half. The little fairy fluttered down and snatched the thing out of his fingertips before settling down on his shoulder with a mischievous grin. The two took a bite out of their respective treats at nearly the same time. It was almost as if the two had become completely in the sink, and it brought both Ian and Coleman no end to their bewilderment.


    "Ya, sure, whatever," Elijah replied with a full mouth and stared at Coleman with a completely bored expression.


    The team leader couldn¡¯t help but be dumbfounded by the two as his gaze shifted from Elijah to the little hellion kicking away happily on his shoulder. Shaking his head, Coleman then turned and made his way to the caravan and its new leader, Donnu, to inform him of their next steps.


    Another sigh left Coleman''s mouth as he prepared himself to take part in Elijah¡¯s machinations. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hell¡­¡±


    -


    In another plane of reality, Yzael couldn¡¯t help but yawn deeply as she stepped out of a sleek, black SUV. The fatigue that had been building up was starting to affect her posture as she stretched her back out, eliciting a few satisfying cracks.


    The poor elf had found herself climbing into a metal tube and flying across these lands, meeting and later instructing several human scholars on the very fundamentals of the Arcane. However, when they asked for her most powerful spell, she shifted nervously as she started to cast it. She wasn¡¯t the most powerful mage when it came to combat. Her specialty lay with understanding and manipulating the essence of magic itself, not causing destruction.


    Luckily the human scholars seemed more than impressed with her pitiful display as she sent a bolt of pure arcane into a block of steel. The bolt had completely pierced it and sent arcane shards splintering in every direction on both sides, perforating everything else that lay near it.


    Yzael half expected a few disdainful laughs while the rest pretended to cheer in disappointment, but to her surprise, everyone in the room erupted into ecstatic excitement. The celebration of her feat was so infectious that the woman couldn¡¯t help but flare in self-importance and put her hands on her hips while smiling smugly at the scholars.


    If there were one thing Yzael could compare that experience to, it would be as if showing a tribe of uncontacted and isolated humans magic for the first time. Which, now that Yzael thought about it¡­ was exactly what it was. Albeit she was demonstrating her powers to an entire advanced civilization and not a tribe, the essence of the thought remained the same.


    Scratching behind her ear, Yzael continued to slink tiredly towards an impressive structure with expansive glass facades reflecting the early morning sun as another yawn left her mouth. The building''s design was a marvel of architecture, with its clean lines and geometric shapes creating a sense of elegance and authority. But as she approached, her tired eyes drifted over to a discreet plaque mounted off to the side that bore the inscription: Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.


    As Yzael made her way towards the imposing structure, an entire entourage of intense individuals who looked as if they stepped out of a high-stakes security detail surrounded her. Men and women in crisp dark suits moved with practiced efficiency, their eyes constantly scanning the area for any potential threats. Adding to the degree of protection, heavily armed guards in tactical gear shadowed them on every flank, their weapons at the ready.


    Yzael couldn''t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer level of security surrounding her. She was used to being treated with respect and deference back in her own world, but this was something else entirely. It was as if these humans viewed her as some sort of priceless treasure, something to be guarded at all costs.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    With not much farther to go, Yzael came up to those infernal yellow sidewalk markers covered in small bumps, and low and beheld, she had stepped wrong on them yet again. The high heels of those strange professional pumps the mortal races seemed to like to wear slipped in an odd way, causing her to stumble forward. A yelp left her mouth as she nearly fell face-first onto the ground, but a rather sizable human guard caught her just in time.


    "Are you okay, ma''am?" the guard asked, his voice filled with concern as he helped her regain her balance.


    Yzael felt a flush of embarrassment as she straightened her blazer and brushed off her dark-colored skirt suit. "Yes, yes, I''m fine," she replied, trying to maintain any sense of dignity despite her near-tumble. "Thank you."


    The guard nodded, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He stepped back, allowing her to proceed towards the entrance. Yzael couldn''t understand for her life why the mortal races loved these infernal things. Beastkin, Sun-Elves, and humans from both sides of this damnable rift loved these infernal things. She glanced down and glared at her high-heeled pumps while a frown tugged at her delicate features.


    Sure, they were fashionable and made one seem taller, but she never understood why anyone cared enough to be so uncomfortable while they walked. It seemed like a terrible price to pay for the sake of vanity, but Yzael had never been one to prioritize appearance over practicality.


    As she reached the entrance of the building, Yzael was greeted by a pair of guards who snapped to attention, and their postures ramrod straight. They opened the doors for her, ushering her inside with a level of deference that was only afforded to high-level dignitaries and officials.


    Nodding at the men awkwardly, Yzael stepped into the lobby and took in another sleek and modern interior that seemed to come standard with every governmental building. Everything was pristine and polished, from the gleaming floors to the minimalist furniture. It was a far cry from the ancient, ornate structures she was used to back home.


    And to be honest, Yzael almost longed for more decorative designs for her home. She had become sick of those too, but at least there was some variety¡­ However, she did catch glimpses of other interiors inside of other buildings as her little convoy ferried her around the city. She¡¯d love nothing more than to go exploring, wandering from building to building just to see what was in it.


    Suddenly a woman in a crisp business suit approached her, a tablet in hand. "Welcome, Lady Yzael," she said, her voice warm but professional. "We''ve been expecting you. If you''ll follow me, I''ll escort you to the briefing room."


    Yzael nodded, trying to ignore the way her feet were already starting to ache in her uncomfortable shoes. She followed the woman down a series of hallways, and Yzael couldn¡¯t help but glance at her guide''s own choice of footwear. A wave of jealousy washed over the elf as she noticed the pair of stylish yet practical flats adorning the woman''s feet. They seemed to accomplish the same task as Yzael''s own high heels without the horrid, uncomfortable design.


    The flats looked vastly more comfortable than whatever hell Yzael was currently wearing. She found herself seemingly boring a hole through the attendant''s feet as they rode the elevator up and traveled down a series of hallways. Yzael silently cursed the fashion trends of both her own world and this strange, new one she found herself in.


    Finally, they arrived in front of a pair of imposing double doors. Yzael took a moment to look around, finally noticing the flurry of activity as people went about their day at a dizzying pace. Most seemed to take a moment to gawk at her with wide eyes full of curiosity and wonder, before hurrying off to attend to their duties.


    A pair of guards stationed at the double doors checked a few IDs before opening the doors, allowing Yzael and her guide inside. As she stepped into the room, Yzael was greeted by the sight of a high-level meeting already in progress.


    The interior of the room was sleek and modern, with a large conference table dominating the center. Seated around the table were various individuals, each one exuding an air of importance and authority.


    At the head of the table sat a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He stood as Yzael entered, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Lady Yzael," he said, his voice deep and welcoming. "It''s a pleasure to have you join us. I''m Dr. Marcus Tillman, the Director of DARPA."


    Yzael inclined her head, returning the smile. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Tillman," she replied, trying to ignore how her feet were screaming in protest.


    Dr. Tillman proceeded to introduce Yzael to the rest of the room. Having worked with the scientists and engineers from MIT, Caltech, and Stanford previously, she was already familiar with them. However, several new faces were in attendance.


    "Allow me to introduce you to our industry partners," Dr. Tillman said, gesturing to a group of well-dressed individuals. "We have representatives from Lockheed Martin, General Dynamics, Northrop Grumman, Texas Instruments, and Raytheon here today."


    Each representative stood and greeted Yzael in turn, their handshakes firm and their smiles polite. Yzael couldn''t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of brainpower and influence gathered in one room.


    As everyone took their seats, the representatives from the various companies and institutions expressed their excitement at the prospect of working with her. "We''re thrilled to have you here, Lady Yzael," the representative from Lockheed Martin said, his smile genuine. "Your insights into the mechanics of magic could revolutionize our understanding of these phenomena."


    The others nodded in agreement, their faces alight with anticipation. Yzael couldn¡¯t help but pound nervously in her chest. She thought she should tell them she wasn¡¯t exactly the most competent combat mage, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew that the expectations placed upon her were high, but Yzael thought she should just sit and listen before opening her mouth.


    Dr. Tillman then motioned for the meeting began in earnest as he cleared his throat, his expression turning serious. "As you all know, we''ve been working with several magic users to better understand how magic works and how to measure it," he began, his gaze sweeping the room. "However, we''ve encountered some¡­ difficulties in grasping the finer details of the energies involved and how they interacted with¡­ well everything."


    He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Most of the mages and magic users we''ve worked with have been able to teach us basic spells and demonstrate the effects of the arcane. But when it comes to the underlying mechanics, the why and how of it all, they''ve struggled to provide clear explanations."


    The representative from Texas Instruments, a sharp-featured woman with keen eyes, nodded in agreement as she cleared her throat before speaking. "Yes, that''s correct," she said, her voice crisp and professional. "Our colleagues in academia have spoken highly of your knowledge, Lady Yzael. We''re very much looking forward to your insights into the fundamental nature of magical energy."


    ¡°Oh.¡± Yzael blinked in surprise as she peered around the room around her.


    She couldn¡¯t believe she wanted to learn about something she specialized in and not the usual destructive or enhancement spell most were known to pursue. Hells, even conjuration and illusion magic, was a lot more interesting to pursue rather than unraveling and harnessing the very nature of magic. Then again, her field of study is highly frowned upon at the best of times and would get you stuck to a pyre at the worst of times.


    Yzael took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. "Thank you all for your kind words," she began, her voice steady despite her nerves. Her expression then turned serious as she looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each representative. "But, before we proceed," she said, her voice low and cautious, "I feel I must warn you. The knowledge I possess, the understanding of the very essence of magic on a foundational level, is highly forbidden in my society. In other societies, it would be grounds for execution."


    The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of Yzael''s warning hanging in the air. Then, a man in a crisp suit, the representative from Lockheed Martin, leaned forward. His name tag read ¡®David Thompson.¡¯


    "Lady Yzael," David said, his voice steady and assured, "with all due respect, we are not in your world. Any repercussions you would face for divulging this knowledge have no power here."


    The others nodded in agreement as Yzael sat back in her chair, her look clear of surprise before it changed into slight embarrassment. Of course¡­ of course that was the case. The laws and taboos of her world held no sway in this realm. Here, she was free to pursue her studies without fear of retribution.


    A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as a sense of liberation washed over her. For the first time in her long life, she could truly delve into the mysteries of magic without constraint, without the constant fear of discovery and punishment.


    She looked around the room again, noticing the eager, determined faces at the table. "Very well," she said with a clear and strong voice. ¡°What would you like to know?"

 Operation Tolkien Chapter: 72 Volume Finale

    Another sigh left Yzael¡¯s mouth as she found herself back in the plush seat of the black SUV that had been ferrying her around.


    As the vehicle glided smoothly over a rather bland and featureless bridge, the monotony of the structures around her starkly contrasted with the whirlwind of meetings and discussions she had just left behind. Beside her, her assistant, a young woman named Maria, tapped away at her phone with her eyes glued to the screen. "Okay, so next up, we have a meeting at the Pentagon," Maria said with a crisp and efficient voice.


    However, Yzael just looked at her blankly as if asking whether the assistant expected her to know what that meant. Maria then cleared her throat with flushed cheeks and corrected herself, "Ahem¡­ It¡¯s one of the country''s main hubs for strategic and military thought."


    Nodding absently, Yzael''s gaze drifted back out of the window to the large river below. Another bridge stretched out in the distance, its design just as utilitarian as the one they were currently crossing. It was all so... bland. Back in her world, even the most functional structures were imbued with a sense of artistry and aesthetics. But here, everything seemed designed with pure practicality in mind.


    But that seemed to make sense after seeing the dizzying array of vehicles passing them. Any bridge, Gods, or even a road would be completely destroyed by the number of vehicles that pass over them. That wasn¡¯t even including the weight and size of what traversed these lands. Most of the ¡®cars¡¯ and ¡®trucks¡¯ were easily heavier than any mount in her world by a factor of two at minimum. But those were just the personal vehicles¡­


    Her gaze then shifted to yet another gargantuan vehicle called a ¡®semi-truck¡¯ rumbling along along the bridge as they passed it.


    "After the Pentagon," Maria continued, oblivious to Yzael''s wandering thoughts, "we have a lunch meeting with representatives from Boeing and SpaceX. They''re very interested in the potential applications of mana in aerospace engineering."


    Yzael hummed in acknowledgment, but her mind only captured half of Maria¡¯s words. The elf couldn''t help but yearn for a little more variety, a little more beauty in her surroundings. No matter where she looked, there was a constant parade of gleaming glass, cold steel, and grey concrete, and it was wearing on her.


    But as they entered the sprawling metropolis of Washington D.C., Yzael''s eyes finally sparked with some life. Here, at last, was a break in the monotony. She found herself captivated by the fascinating stately columns, intricate pediments, and grand porticos that exuded a sense of timeless elegance and authority. It was as if these buildings seemed to harken back to an ancient era, their designs evoking a sense of history and tradition.


    Yet, the gleaming, glass-and-steel edifices of what these humans would consider contemporary were interspersed among these classic structures. These buildings, with their clean lines, geometric shapes, and innovative materials, spoke of progressive, forward-thinking.


    "After lunch," still engrossed in her phone, Maria continued to rattle off the day''s itinerary. "we have a meeting with the Secretary of Energy to discuss the potential of mana as a renewable power source."


    Another absent affirmation left Yzael¡¯s mouth as she remained fixated on the architecture around her. But as the convoy came to a stop at a red light, her attention was suddenly drawn to a charming little cafe on the corner.


    It was a quaint and inviting space, with tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. The cafe¡¯s patrons were leisurely enjoying a variety of dishes and drinks, which made Yzael''s eyes widen in jealousy. The elf took in the array of colors and textures of the confectionaries, while the steam rising from cups gave her a dose of nostalgia from her own hometown.


    Oh, how she longed to go in there. To sample every delicacy. To savor the flavors. To bask in the aromas of this world''s cuisine. But before she could voice this desire, the light turned green, and the SUV lurched forward once more.


    As they drove on, Yzael''s hands nearly slapped against the tinted window, and her eyes remained on the cafe. Her gaze was drawn to other establishments that lined the streets. A florist''s shop, with its windows brimming with blooms of every hue, seemed to beckon her with its promise of natural beauty¨C a bookstore with shelves stacked high with tomes of every size and color.


    Maria, on the other hand, was still focused on her job as an assistant. The secretary-esque woman continued to outline the day''s engagements. "Next would be a dinner meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff," she said. "They''re very keen on hearing your insights on military applications for magic. The most pressing would be detection and targeting."


    Yzael suppressed a sigh. As much as she appreciated the opportunity to share her knowledge, the constant parade of meetings and discussions was starting to wear on her. She longed for a moment of respite, a chance to explore this fascinating city at her own pace.


    After a bit of scrolling, Maria narrowed her eyes as she found the conclusion of the busy day. "And after the dinner meeting, you''ll be driven back to your secure residence for the night. The Secret Service has arranged for a private, well-appointed space where you can rest and prepare for the next day''s engagements." Maria continued, looking up at Yzael as she stared out the window.


    "Uh-huh," Yzael mumbled. At this point, the woman was on autopilot as her gaze remained fixed on the passing storefronts and restaurants. Her mind was miles away, lost in daydreams of steaming cups of coffee and flaky, buttery pastries.


    Noticing Yzael''s distraction, Maria set her phone down and raised an eyebrow. "Ma''am, are you listening?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice.


    "Uh-huh," Yzael repeated, still not fully present in the conversation.


    With a gentle tap on Yzael''s shoulder, Maria finally managed to snap the elf out of her reverie. Yzael nearly jumped in her seat as she turned to face her assistant with a startled expression.


    "Oh, I''m so sorry," Yzael apologized, her ears drooping slightly in embarrassment. "I must have drifted off for a moment there."


    Maria huffed a few times in amusement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It''s quite alright, ma''am," she said, her tone understanding. "You must be fatigued by all the hectic meetings. It''s been a busy morning, and we still have a full day ahead."


    Yzael nodded, but her gaze kept flicking back to the cafes and shops they were passing. The longing in her eyes was plain to see. Finally, she turned to Maria with a hopeful expression on her face. "Would it be alright if we stopped by one of these cafes?" She nearly whispered in a tentative tone. "Just for a little while?"


    The smile on Maria''s face faded a little as she considered the request. As much as she wanted to accommodate Yzael''s request, there were protocols to follow and security concerns to consider. "I understand your desire, ma''am," Maria began, her tone gentle but firm. "But given your unique status and the sensitive nature of your work, we have to be very careful about public exposure."


    The elf¡¯s ears drooped further in disappointment from the reply, but it seemed Maria wasn¡¯t quite finished as the secretary tapped on her chin in thought.


    "However," Maria continued, "I think we can find a compromise. Let me make a few calls and see if we can arrange for a private visit to one of these establishments. We can have the place cleared and secured, and you can enjoy a bit of downtime without compromising your safety or identity."


    Yzael''s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the suggestion. Her eyes sparkled, and her posture straightened as she scooted closer to her assistant. "Really!? Truly!?" she nearly yelled with a voice full of excitement. "You could do that!?"


    Maria did her best to cover up her amused laugh as she nodded. This magically inclined being from another world was nothing short of adorable. The assistant soon nodded as she had already pulled up her contacts on her phone. "It might take a bit of coordination," she replied, "but for someone of your importance, I''m sure we can make it happen. Consider it a small thank you for all the invaluable knowledge you''re sharing with us."


    A genuine, heartfelt smile spread across Yzael¡¯s face as she clapped her hands in uncontained giddiness. Her ears seemed to spring as her expression seemed to light up the entire vehicle. "Oh, thank you, Maria!" she yelled, hopping as high in her seat as her seatbelt would allow her. "That would mean the world to me!"


    With Maria tapping away at her phone to make arrangements for a secure, private visit to a local cafe, Yzael settled back into her seat. All the fatigue that welled within Yzael seemed to be washed away with a wave of excitement as she heard her Secretary speak to whoever ran these security details. A chance to actually sit somewhere lovely and eat some well-deserved confections was a small thing, a brief respite from the whirlwind of meetings and discussions. But to Yzael, it meant everything.


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    The SUV pulled up to their next destination as the thought of delicious sweets swirled within Yzael''s head. Looking up at the marvel in front of her, Yzael gawked at the building''s sheer size and unique design. The five-sided structure seemed to stretch on forever. And while the High Elven cities of her homeland held more awe-inspiring structures, Yzael had to remind herself that these humans made such a simple-looking structure exude strength and authority with just concrete and glass.


    It wasn¡¯t long until the SUV approached the Pentagon, and a flurry of activity erupted. The Pentagon¡¯s security personnel had been briefed on the VIP''s arrival and the need for discretion, and the last thing they wanted was to draw unwanted attention to the fact that they were hosting an elf. It was one thing to have it be known there was such a being in custody and a whole other matter of the fact they were working with such a being in one of the country''s most secure and sensitive military installations. The uproar and international backlash would be nearly instantaneous, with a flurry of accusations flying in every direction.


    To avoid some issues, they opted out of pulling up to the main entrance and instead directed the SUV to a secure underground parking facility. The area had been cleared of all non-essential personnel, and additional security measures had been put in place to ensure privacy.


    As the vehicle came to a stop, a team of Secret Service agents quickly surrounded it. They were dressed in plain clothes, their earpieces and alert stances the only indications of their true role. With practiced efficiency, they escorted Yzael through labyrinthine halls of the most coveted buildings of US military leadership.


    Yzael couldn''t help but notice the curious looks of the few personnel they encountered. Even though she was wearing a sleek, modern suit like a lot of the other personnel, her elven features were impossible to fully conceal. Her pointed ears, ethereal grace, and slightly luminous skin was a stark contract against the humans around her.


    But as she was whisked through the halls of the Pentagon, she also noticed the state of the offices and meeting rooms they passed. Every open door revealed a scene of controlled chaos, with empty and half-full pizza boxes and coffee cups strewn about. It was clear that the personnel here were working around the clock, dealing with some sort of ongoing crisis.


    This was only compounded by the curious yet haggard faces of the people they passed. Despite her unusual appearance, most seemed too preoccupied with their own tasks to give Yzael more than a passing glance. It was as if the entire building was operating under a state of extreme pressure that Yzael couldn¡¯t really fathom.


    As they approached a set of double doors, Yzael''s keen elven hearing picked up a snippet of conversation between two individuals who were power-walking down the hall. Their voices were tense, their words rapid and clipped. "The Chinese are starting to posture more aggressively in the Pacific," one of them said, his brow furrowed in concern. "They''re accusing us of neoimperialism and demanding entrance into the portal."


    The other individual, a woman with a severe bob cut, shook her head. "And the Russians are getting angsty, too," she replied, her tone exasperated. "They keep demanding a UN-coordinated response, saying it irresponsible that this is a US-led endeavor and it¡¯s a threat to the entire planet."


    Yzael couldn''t quite grasp the full context of the conversation she overheard, but from what she gathered, there seemed to be an ongoing geopolitical crisis centered around the rift. The mention of "Chinese" and "Russians," which she assumed were other kingdoms or entities in this world, and their demands for involvement or oversight hinted at a complex web of international tensions.


    A hum of interest left Yzael''s mouth as she tried to piece together the implications. But before she could ponder further, she was ushered through a pair of heavy double doors and into a meeting room filled with a group of rather important-looking individuals.


    As she entered, the people around the table stood, their postures straight and their expressions serious. One by one, they introduced themselves as members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest-ranking military officials in the United States.


    After a round of polite but brisk greetings, they got straight to the point. "Lady Yzael," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs began, "the main goal of this meeting is to determine the tactical and strategic threats we need to address regarding the Empire¡¯s and their use of magic on the other side of the rift." He paused, giving his colleague an intense glance. "We know we''ve gone over this with you before, many times, Lady Yzael... But we hope that underscores just how critical this topic is. The security of our nation and the world at large, may depend on the insights you can provide."


    Yzael fidgeted a few moments before nodding nervously. A part of her was still apprehensive of these kinds of meetings. It was almost as if she was betraying her own world, but as long as their ¡®guns¡¯ and ¡®bombs¡¯ were aimed directly at the Seraphic empire and not her people, then she had little qualms about it.


    Nodding solemnly, Yzael met the Chairman''s gaze. "I understand," she said, her voice steady. "As long as you make the distinction that the High Elven people are not the Empire, then I have little issues with delving deeper into the topic."


    The military leaders nodded back. ¡°We are not in the profession of wanton destruction. If your people remain neutral and do not intervene in our conflict with the empire, then we will not touch an inch of their land.¡± He replied. It was the same song and dance as last time. As long as everyone stayed in their lane, then there was no need to come to blows.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, as we said last meeting, I¡¯m sure our diplomats would be more than ecstatic to set up trade or even cultural exchanges with the High Elven Council.¡± The Chairman continued, folding his hands on the table. ¡°There¡¯s quite a bit we¡¯d be eager to learn, and there¡¯s also quite a bit we¡¯d love to teach.¡±


    That was the same answer as last time, but the words still did a lot to ease Yzaels''s heart as she visibly relaxed. The elf let loose a deep breath, steeling herself once more, and began the meeting in earnest.


    Again, for hours, Yzael found herself answering question after question until these important men were satisfied and left her throat hoarse and dry. And by the time it was finally time for her to head back to her transport, the poor elf felt mentally and emotionally drained. The knowledge she shared seemed to weigh down on her heavily. These humans were terrifyingly clever¡­ it was apparent that centuries of constant warfare had shaped their decision-making on an institutional level. Whatever Yzael had shared over the months was going to be used to shape the course of her world¡­ forever.


    With everything all said and done, Yzael heaved a heavy sigh as she made her way back through the labyrinthine halls of the Pentagon. Her Secret Service detail surrounded her once more as they descended into the underground garage and approached her waiting SUV, and she couldn''t help but feel relieved. Anyplace that was the nerve center for secrets and plots was someplace that Yzael wanted to be as far away from as possible.


    However, the elf knew that was going to be an impossibility for the foreseeable future.


    Another sigh left Yzael¡¯s mouth as she neared her designated vehicle, and she was greeted by the sight of her appointed assistant standing right next to the SUV with a broad smile on her face. As Maria opened the door for her, Yzael half expected the woman to rattle on about another meeting or a change in plans, but lo and behold, the cheeky woman had good news for once.


    "Our change in plans has been approved, Lady Yzael," Maria announced in a bright and chipper voice.


    Yzael¡¯s eyes widened, and a spark of excitement filled her gaze as she snapped her head to her assistant. Maria herself was unable to control her grin at the elf''s adorable reaction. It was like watching a child being told they were going to their favorite candy store.


    "That''s right," Maria continued, her own enthusiasm feeding off Yzael''s. "Everything''s been arranged for your private cafe visit. The Secretary of Energy is looking forward to meeting you there for a lovely lunch. And get this - it''s not just any cafe. It''s an adorable little cat cafe with a beautiful garden inside!"


    A squeal of delight left Yzael¡¯s mouth as her hands came up to her face, and she practically bounced on her feet. "Ohh! A cat cafe!? I¡¯ve only seen those creatures from a distance or on a screen!" she clapped, her voice filled with wonder. "With a garden? Oh, Maria, that sounds absolutely perfect!"


    Charmed by Yzael''s unabashed joy, Maria¡¯s smile widened as she opened the door of the SUV. Moments like these reminded her of just how unique and special her charge was. Despite being a veritable ancient and immensely powerful magical being, Yzael still found such pure, innocent delight in the simple pleasures of life.


    "The Secret Service is already en route to secure the area and prep for your arrival," Maria assured her. "Everything should be in order by the time we get there. You''ll have plenty of time to enjoy the cafe, play with the cats, and relax in the garden before the Secretary arrives."


    Yzael was practically vibrating with excitement, and her earlier fatigue and stress were wholly forgotten. "Cats and a garden," she repeated as if trying to convince herself it was real. "After all those meetings, all that time cooped up inside... Maria, you''re an absolute goddess, do you know that?"


    Maria felt warm and fuzzy at Yzael''s words. "I''m happy to make your day just a little more tolerable, Lady Yzael," she replied modestly. You''re doing such important work that is helping keep not only my family safe but also countless other families. It''s the least I can do to make things a little brighter for you."


    As they climbed into the SUV, Yzael was still gushing about the cafe, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Do you think they''ll let me pet these ¡®cats¡¯?" she asked, her voice filled with hopeful longing. "I''ve always wanted to pet a cat from your world. They look so soft and fluffy in the pictures I''ve seen!"


    Shaking her head in amusement, Maria laughed affectionately. "I''m sure they will, Lady Yzael," she assured her. "In fact, I''ve heard that the cats at this particular cafe are very friendly and love attention from visitors. You might even get to play with some of the kittens, if you''re lucky."


    Yzael let out another squeal at that, actually clapping her hands in glee. "Kittens!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Maria, this is going to be the best day ever. I can feel it!"


    As the SUV pulled out of the Pentagon''s underground garage and merged into the busy D.C. traffic, the two made their way to their next meeting point to discuss the potential uses of magic in energy generation.


    And, of course, to eat confections and pet a cute cat or two.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 73

    The Senate chamber was filled with palpable tension as the hearing on the new bill began. The proposed legislation, drafted and sent by the House of Representatives, was a law enforcement empowerment measure aimed at creating an overarching joint task force. This task force would allow federal and state law enforcement to respond to and combat the growing anomalies in the United States from beyond Ohio''s rift.


    Senator Derek Sutton, a Republican from Georgia, was the first to speak. He began calmly, albeit with an edge of scorn in his voice. He still followed the traditional decorum of Senate hearings.


    "This measure," Senator Sutton stated, "is both overreaching and ineffective. Our law enforcement agencies are already stretched beyond their means, dealing with these otherworldly threats. Sure, they¡¯re not even in a position to abuse it due to being stretched too thin, but why give them the opportunity to violate our constitutional rights in the future? What we need is our goddamn National Guard and our military defending our people!"


    The assembled Senators and audience met his words with applause and murmurs. It was clear that Sutton''s sentiment struck a chord with many who felt that the proposed measure was both inadequate in the face of the looming threat and a slippery slope.


    However, Senator Sarah Fletcher, a Democrat from Washington, was quick to counter Sutton''s argument. "With all due respect, Senator Sutton," Fletcher began in a measured but firm tone, "We cannot afford to move any personnel from the rift, especially with a looming offensive on the horizon. Our forces are already at maximum capacity¡­ The reserves have been called up, the National Guard has been activated, and every able veteran has been recalled. We''ve done everything short of a full-on draft!"


    Fletcher paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "This task force is not meant to replace our military but to supplement it. By empowering our law enforcement with the authority to execute raids without warrants and set up no-go zones to deal with the domestic anomalies, we can free up our armed forces to focus on the larger threat beyond the rift."


    Senator Sutton, however, was not convinced. He leaned forward in his seat, his face flushed with anger. "Supplement?" he scoffed. "Senator Fletcher, giving law enforcement the ability to establish de facto martial law is absurd!¡± He threw his arms up in outrage. ¡°That¡¯s not going to keep our people safe! Have you seen the reports coming out of these affected areas!? While you West Coast yuppies are sittin¡¯ comfy behind your fuckin¡¯ mountains, people are disappearing and dying as we speak!"


    The Georgian senator stood up and was losing his temper. ¡°I have farms being overrun by monsters! I have children being snatched from playgrounds and elementary schools! College students are being dragged down into sewers in the middle of the street! Hell, Mrs. Fletcher, these filthy monstrosities are even eating people in their own homes!¡± The man stood up and slammed his hands on the table while pointing at Senator Fletcher. ¡°We don¡¯t need our freedoms stripped away! We need overwhelming force to exterminate these vermin!¡±


    Fletcher stood up abruptly, her face flushed with anger as she pointed accusingly at Senator Sutton. "We have no one left to deploy!" she yelled over the din of the assembly. "Every available soldier, reservist, and National Guard member are all at the rift!"


    Senator Terry Wagner, a Democrat from Illinois, spoke up to join the fray. "For God''s sake! As Senator Fletcher said, we''ve recalled every able-bodied veteran, and we''ve done everything short of a full-scale draft!" he shouted, his voice filled with frustration. ¡°Do you want to be the one to spearhead a draft!? Or should we compromise the entire safety of the nation by dragging away critical units and creating gaps in our frontlines!¡±


    But Sutton was not to be outdone. He slammed his fist on the table, his face red with rage. "That''s not good enough!" he bellowed. "Our people are dying out there! We need more boots on the ground, and we need them now!"


    The Senate Majority Leader, Senator Robert Thompson from Kentucky, banged his gavel repeatedly, trying to restore order. "Senators! Senators, please!" he yelled, his voice straining to be heard above the shouting. "Order! Order!"


    However, his efforts were in vain. The debate had devolved into a full-blown shouting match, with Senators from both sides of the aisle standing up and yelling over each other. Accusations and insults flew back and forth, drowning out any attempt at reasoned discourse.


    In a living room hundreds of miles away, a sun-kissed man named Broughan Bitterly, with bright blonde hair and a clean-shaven face, shook his head as he watched the Senate hearing on TV. After the rift opened, the entire country lost its mind. Every day, the county was flooded with sirens and helicopters rushing to one crisis after another with no end in sight.


    These monsters were everywhere, and they even roamed brazenly during the day¡­ And if you didn¡¯t find one sneaking around in broad daylight, you sure as hell would find them in the sewers and drainage systems.


    It was a nightmare for the East Coast and Middle America, a nightmare that Broughan knew would eventually affect the rest of the country. But he also felt like he had an answer for it.


    Looking around him, Broughan saw his friends leisurely hanging about, snapping rounds of ammunition into magazines as they prepared for another day of fighting the monsters that had invaded their town.


    They had set up their own Local Militia and soon-to-be Private Security firm to respond to these crises. Gearing up, organizing, and transporting people to hotspots that would pop up was an expensive venture, but as a popular Gun YouTuber, Broughan had an advantage most didn¡¯t.


    Broughan was already in a position to organize people and get the OK from the local county in Texas. He already had enough weapons to arm a small army. He also had the transports in the form of small helicopters, trucks, and Polaris ATVs they¡¯d use to hunt hogs.


    They were in the perfect position to provide a solution where the state couldn¡¯t.


    "Look at ¡®em," Broughan said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Arguing and bickering while we''re out here actually getting shit done. Typical."


    His friend Marcus, a dark-skinned, burly man with a thick beard, grunted in agreement. "They don''t have a clue they¡¯re doin¡¯," he said, placing a magazine into the pile. "They''re too busy playing their political games to be of any use."


    Greg, a pale, lean man with a baby face, nodded as he looked up, loading magazines as well. "It''s like the Wild West all over again," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "We can''t count on the government to save us. We''ve got to take care of ourselves, just like the pioneers did."


    There was a glint in Greg''s eye as he spoke, a hint of adventure. "In a way, it''s kind of exciting," he continued. "Being out there on the frontier, facing down these monsters, relying on our own skills and wits to survive." But then his expression sobered, and he shook his head. "Still, it''s a damn shame it''s come to this. We pay our taxes, but what do we get? A bunch of suits in Washington arguing while the country goes up in flames."


    Broughan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That''s just how it is, man," he said. "When the chips are down when things really go to shit, it''s always the common folk who have to step up."


    Just as those words left Broughan¡¯s mouth, a teenager suddenly burst into the room with a phone clutched tightly in his hand. "Uncle Brou, you got work!" he yelled, running over to hand the device to his uncle.


    Taking the phone from his nephew, Broughan furrowed his brow as he quickly scanned through the information on the screen. A huff was forced through his nose, and a serious expression settled over his face. "Greg!" he barked, his voice sharp with urgency. "Take the trucks and your boys to Wilts'' farm. They found more of those scaly bastards stealing livestock."


    Not wasting any time, Greg shot up and started shoving the preloaded magazines into pouches before rushing out of the room. "On it, boss," the man shouted before barreling out of the door, already shouting out orders to his men.


    "Marcus, you''re with me," he said, grabbing his plate carrier to gear up. "We''ve got a mix of lizards and mangy vermin out by Lakeside. We''re taking the helis."


    Marcus nodded as he threw on his own plate carrier and started shoving magazines into pouches. "Roger that," He replied, bolting out of the house as well after grabbing his rifle.


    As Broughan geared up, he continued to parse through the information on his phone. On the screen, a newly developed open-source app called The Minutemen. The Minutemen were explicitly designed to aggregate attacks and organize civilian responders. Everyone from mall cops, private security firms, militias, and even private military contractors got in on the action and were referred to as Minutemen. It essentially crowdsourced first responders.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Minutemen app was a work in progress, with a rough and unintuitive interface, but it still provided a real-time map of the entire state of Texas. When one viewed the map, they¡¯d quickly see that the whole state was peppered with exclamation marks, each one indicating an incident that required their attention.


    These alerts were constantly updated, providing a live feed of the crisis situations unfolding across the region. But when Broughan honed in on his city, San Antonio, he said it was lit up by single flashing police light icons indicating law enforcement was already handling the incidents. It was a helpful tool, allowing them to prioritize their response and avoid redundancy.


    However, two other incidents remained unattended, and their exclamation marks strobed urgently on the map. One was at Wilts'' farm, the location Greg and his team were already speeding towards. The other was in the suburbs of Lakeside, the destination for Broughan and Marcus.


    Broughan tapped on the Lakeside alert, bringing up additional details, and the app began to work its magic in the background. Not only were pictures from the service requester provided, but The Minutemen app crawled the internet, searching for similar images that were geotagged in the area and taken within the same timeframe as the request.


    Within seconds, a series of additional images populated the screen, providing more context to the job and a comprehensive visual of the situation on the ground. Broughan''s eyes widened as he took in the new information. His fingers deftly allocated the request to his makeshift militia with a few quick taps. But as he continued to study the images, something caused him to pause.


    Amidst the chaos and destruction, he noticed a disturbing mix of creatures - both the feral and vicious Scroungers that had become public enemy number one and the kleptomaniac Kobolds.


    This was highly unusual. Scroungers were known for their territorial aggression and brazenness in attacking people in broad daylight. They were apex predators, feared by humans and monsters alike. Kobolds, on the other hand, were more of a nuisance than a lethal threat. They were notorious for their thievery and mischief, always seeking to make off with shiny objects or someone''s livestock. But they typically avoided direct confrontation, preferring to avoid humans, and were content to hunt the plentiful hogs and deer. Nevertheless, they were still dangerous and attacked when cornered.


    Seeing these two vastly different species operating in the same location sent alarm bells ringing in Broughan''s mind. Scroungers and Kobolds had never been known to work together before. In fact, their behaviors and motivations were so contrasting that they were more likely to clash than cooperate.


    Something wasn''t adding up. There was a piece of the puzzle missing, a factor he couldn''t quite grasp. But as the sound of helicopter rotors starting to spool up outside reached his ears, Broughan knew he didn''t have the luxury of time to figure it out now.


    With a frown, he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his rifle. The specifics would have to wait. Right now, they needed to get to Lakeside and put an end to whatever the hell was going on before more lives were lost and houses burned down.


    Broughan sprinted outside towards the awaiting helicopters as a crowd of armed men piled inside both birds¡ªan old Bell 212 and a Bell 206. Without hesitation, he jumped into the Bell 212, his rifle slung across his back. Turning to the pilot, Broughan spun his finger in a circle and yelled, "Let''s go!"


    One of the militiamen leaned forward into the cockpit, smacked the pilot in command¡¯s shoulder, and relayed the order. The pilot immediately nodded and pulled up on the collective to take off.


    "San Antonio Tower, this is Minuteman Bravo Golf 32, a Bell 212, and Minuteman Bravo Golf 33, a Bell 206, departing Bitterly compound to the west. We are a flight of two, VFR (Visual Flight Rules), to Lakeside, responding to a crisis situation. Requesting priority clearance."


    The radio crackled to life as the tower responded. "Minuteman Bravo Golf 32, San Antonio Tower. Roger, your request. You are cleared for immediate departure to the east. Maintain VFR at or below 1,500 feet. Squawk 1-2-0-0. Priority handling is in effect. Godspeed."


    "Cleared for immediate departure to the east, maintain VFR at or below 1,500, squawking 1200. Minuteman Bravo Golf 32 copies all, rolling now."


    After the formalities were completed, the pilot skillfully lifted the Bell 212 into the air, the Bell 206 following close behind. The two helicopters quickly gained altitude, their powerful rotors churning the air as they set course for Lakeside.


    Broughan and his men were already preparing for the job inside the helicopters. They checked their weapons, ensured their comms were working, and mentally steeled themselves for whatever awaited them.


    As the helicopters raced towards Lakeside, Broughan couldn¡¯t help but marvel at just how much had changed as his mind drifted. Just a few months ago, these skies were a picture of serenity. The occasional police helicopter would do its rounds or circle over an area, but otherwise, the airspace was largely clear and peaceful.


    Now, however, the sky was abuzz with activity. Small prop planes, helicopters, and drones flew in every direction, a testament to the new threats their society faced. The rift had changed everything, and the airspace was no exception.


    The noise rules the FAA once enforced had been largely disregarded in the face of this new reality. The priority now was rapid response, getting eyes on target and boots on the ground as quickly as possible when a crisis emerged. Red tape and regulations had taken a backseat to the pressing need for swift action.


    As Broughan mused on these changes, a tap on his shoulder jolted him from his reverie and brought him back to the present. One of his men leaned in close, pointing at the pilot with his thumb. "Boss, the pilot says we''re one minute out," the man shouted, trying to overpower the sounds of the whipping rotor blades.


    Acknowledging the update with a nod, Broughan then grabbed one of the handles inside the helicopter and planted his feet firmly on a strut on the skid before leaning forward. The man squinted his eyes as he peered out in front of the helicopter in an attempt to get a better view of what was going on and where they were heading.


    Sure enough, just a mile or two ahead, billows of smoke followed by flashes of arcane energy that clashed with the afternoon sun erupted from the suburbs they were racing towards. The scene was chaotic and destroyed as smoke filled streets and skies.


    With a grunt, Broughan pulled himself back into the helicopter and immediately began issuing orders. "Listen up!" he barked as they made their final approach. "We''re going to land in the cul-de-sac. The 206 will provide overhead support. Stay sharp, watch your sectors, and remember your training!" He shouted as men checked their weapons and gear, readying themselves for a potential hot landing. One of the militiamen, however, pulled out a radio and immediately began relaying the orders to the other helicopter.


    As the Bell 212 approached the landing zone, the pilot expertly maneuvered the aircraft by flying it low and fast. They were so low that the rotor wash kicked up dust and debris from the rooftops, creating a swirling vortex behind them. The pilot flared the nose up, bleeding off as much speed as possible before gently setting the aircraft down in the middle of the cul-de-sac.


    Just as the helicopter''s skids touched the pavement, Broughan and his men jumped into motion. They had drilled this maneuver countless times, each man knowing his role and position as they moved forward, scanning their sectors. The Militiamen fanned out, training their weapons on potential threats as the helicopter kicked off the ground and took off to join its sister aircraft circling above.


    The Bell 206 remained in a holding pattern with snipers in its cabin, providing a watchful eye and rattling off shots from above while Broughan and his team moved deeper into the battlefield. More gunfire erupted from him and his team, ending any Kobold or Scrounger that were lingering out in the open while they maneuvered on the suburb. As they cleared the street one yard at a time, the true extent of the carnage became apparent. Bodies littered the streets, but as Broughan looked closer, he realized something was off.


    Among the scattered corpses, only one of them appeared to be human. The poor soul¡¯s mangled corpse was strewed about in a grotesque way in the middle of the street. Even from a distance, Broughan could see the severity of the wounds. Deep gashes crisscrossed the corpse, and chunks of flesh appeared to have been torn away as if the body had been feasted upon. The barbarity of the injuries was a clear sign of the Scrounger''s viciousness.


    But the vast majority of the bodies weren¡¯t even human.


    As Broughan and his men moved cautiously through the suburban streets, the scene before them was one of utter devastation. The bodies of Kobolds and Scroungers littered the ground from what must have been a brutal and vicious melee.


    But something about this scene felt off from the usual encounters with these creatures. Broughan had been fighting these monsters since the rift first appeared, and in all that time, he had never heard of Kobolds and Scroungers even whispered in the same sentence, let alone be seen near each other.


    It was well known that Kobolds and Scroungers rarely, if ever, interacted. Kobolds, with their small, wiry frames and quick, furtive movements, were natural scavengers. They preferred to steal and run rather than engage in direct confrontation. Their survival instincts were geared towards avoiding conflict, especially with creatures that could easily overpower them.


    Scroungers, on the other hand¡­ These larger, more aggressive creatures were easy for a teenager to handle but usually hunted in packs and lived in tribes with their own makeshift cultures. To make matters worse, they chose to stalk and hunt humans, even in large cities, by making their lairs in sewers or drainage pipes.


    The two species occupied vastly different niches in the ecosystem of this new, post-rift world, and they typically avoided each other. Seeing them here, not just in the same neighborhood but actively fighting and killing each other, was unheard of. It contradicted everything Broughan and his men had come to understand about these creatures and their behavior.


    As Broughan and his team moved deeper into the suburb, the evidence of this strange and deadly interaction became more apparent. Kobold spears protruded from Scrounger''s corpses, while the telltale marks of Scrounger''s jagged makeshift blades and claws marred the bodies of fallen Kobolds. It was as if these two species, usually so distinct in their habits and habitats, had suddenly decided to seek each other out and clashed in a frenzy of unprecedented violence.


    Or¡­ perhaps this was always the case, and they just now noticed?


    Broughan narrowed his eyebrows as his mind raced with possibilities. Was this a chance encounter and scuffle for resources? Or had the Kobolds and Scroungers, creatures that had always maintained a wary distance, actively sought each other out and engaged in a brutal conflict?


    Shaking his head, Broughan dismissed these thoughts for the moment. Figuring out the underlying cause of this anomalous behavior would have to wait.


    Right now, he had a job to do.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 74

    Sporadic bursts of gunfire erupted across the once-quiet Lakeside suburb as the Minutemen methodically cleared the area. They moved from house to house, garage to garage, yard to yard, ending any threats they saw.


    Occasionally, they would spot a curious face peering out from behind a curtain or catch the glint of a phone camera recording their progress, but they did their best to ignore the perusers. The residents were no doubt terrified by the sudden attack and seemed only to poke their heads out when the influx of armed men entered their neighborhood. The streets, however, remained largely deserted, save for the occasional Scrounger that would dart out from cover only to be promptly cut down by a hail of bullets.


    As Broughan moved through the suburb, his eyes scanned around to take the carnage. The bodies that littered the streets and yards were Scroungers. This fact alone was enough to give him pause. Despite being outnumbered by the Scroungers, the Kobolds gave as good as they got. For every Kobold corpse, there were at least two dead Scroungers.


    It was an impressive kill ratio, especially considering the physical disparities between the two species. Kobolds were small and wiry, built for speed and stealth rather than direct combat. But Scroungers, on the other hand, were vicious and strong. Those mangy beasts should easily be able to overpower a kobold in a straight fight, let alone disembowel one with its sharp claws and teeth.


    Yet, the evidence before him told a different story. The Kobolds held their own and seemingly inflicted a terrible cost on the Scroungers in this apparent skirmish. It was a testament to their ferocity and their determination, traits that Broughan had never really associated with those scavenging little pests before.


    As he pondered this new development, a sudden movement caught his eye. A Scrounger, its fur matted with blood, was trying to scurry from one bush to another, seeking cover or escape. Without hesitation, Broughan snapped his rifle towards the creature and opened fire.


    The Scrounger convulsed as the bullets tore into its body, its limbs jerking in a macabre dance. Its momentum took it a few more steps before it collapsed face-first into the ground, its lifeblood seeping into the carefully manicured lawn.


    Approaching the downed creature, Broughan stepped around the large bush the thing had been running towards with Marcus close on his heels. As they rounded the foliage, they were greeted by a sight that made their blood run cold. Three more Scroungers were lying in wait, and one was mere steps away from Broughan.


    Without hesitation, Broughan started firing, emptying the remainder of his magazine into the horrible beast. But the Scrounger was already in motion, lunging at him with its razor-sharp claws and snapping jaws.


    Meanwhile, Marcus reacted with equal swiftness, dumping the remainder of his magazine into the other two Scroungers charging towards his boss. The rapid burst of violence only lasted a few seconds as the air filled with the barks of gunfire, mingling with the screeches of the dying creatures.


    But Marcus'' attention was immediately drawn back to Broughan, who grappled with the Scrounger that had pounced on him. The creature was desperately thrashing and gasping after eating half a magazine''s worth of rounds just before it stabbed a jagged piece of metal into Broughan''s tactical gear.


    Marcus ran forward, grabbing the Scrounger by its matted fur and effectively tossing the damned thing across the yard with a grunt of effort. As the little beast continued to writhe Marcus pull out his pistol and fired five more rounds into it, causing the scrounger to stiffen up and cease its struggle.


    "Brou, you good!?" The dark man asked, snapping his weapon between the motionless scrounger and the two creatures sluggishly squirming on the ground.


    Broughan flailed and kicked, putting some distance between himself and the corpse before patting himself down frantically. "Fuck!" he yelled, clearly shaken by the close call. "Goddamnit, man!"


    "Ya, my fuckin¡¯ plate caught it!" Broughan finally answered in anger as he paced back and forth. ¡°God damn piece of shit!¡± He shouted one more time before taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.


    With the burst of adrenaline starting to dissipate, Broughan and Marcus took a moment to reload their weapons. They approached the downed Scroungers cautiously, putting a few more rounds into each of them to ensure they were truly dead before they took the time to examine the corpses a little more closely.


    As they got closer, they noticed something peculiar. Besides the bullet wounds that riddled their bodies, one of the Scroungers barely showed any signs of damage other than being a little beat up. One of them, however, had an arm that was burned to a crisp. Its flesh was blackened and cracked, while another had its snout almost completely frozen solid, encased in a sheath of ice.


    Broughan furrowed his brow, his mind racing. Scroungers didn''t have any innate magical abilities, at least not that they had ever encountered before. These injuries, the burns, and the freezing had to have come from an external source. But what could have caused such damage?


    "Brou, come take a look at this." Marcus beckoned to his boss, his voice a mix of disgust and unease.


    Moving over to where Marcus stood, Broughan¡¯s eyes followed his friend''s gaze. What he saw made his stomach turn. Kobold''s heads were dangling from hooks at the sides of the two Scroungers. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly into the distance. It was apparent they had been taken as trophies, grim tokens of the Scroungers'' victory over their enemy.


    The two men could only stare at the grisly sight for a moment as a heavy silence hung between them. "I don''t think they like each other very much." Marcus spoke up with his face twisted in a mix of disgust and bewilderment.


    But the questions remained. Why here? Why now? What had sparked this sudden and brutal battle?


    Broughan turned to his friend with furrowed brows before looking back at the pair of heads. That had been the understatement of the year, he mused silently. The grisly trophies, the signs of magical damage, the sheer number of Scrounger corpses¡ªit all pointed to a conflict. It gave a similar feeling to that of a gang war fighting over territory.


    Gunshots continued to echo throughout the suburb as other teams encountered more pockets of resistance. Marcus''s clipped-to-his-hip radio chatter painted a picture of the wider battle.


    "Team 2, reporting in. Engaged another cluster of Scroungers. Count is... seven, all KIA."


    "Team 4 here. We''ve just smoked a dozen more in the park."


    Broughan couldn''t help but marvel at the numbers. "Jesus," he muttered, "how many of these things are there?"


    Marcus, his face grim, grabbed his radio. "Hey, Any y¡¯all find any live Kobolds?"


    There was a moment of silence, then a crackle as responses came in.


    "Negative. We found a few that were already dying, but no live ones."


    "Same here. Every Kobold we''ve seen is already dead."


    An incredulous huff left Broughan as he exchanged a glance with Marcus. The implications were clear. If they were betting men, they¡¯d put top dollar on this being an ambush on a Kobold''s scavenging party. But it seemed as if these Kobolds made their attackers pay a heavy price.


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    Suddenly, the radio crackled to life again, the voice of the pilot in the circling Bell 206 cutting through.


    "Brou, 206 here. We''ve got a scuffle in the backyard of the house you''re in front of. Our snipers can¡¯t get a good shot on ¡®em. Over."


    Marcus immediately responded. "Roger that, 206. We''re on it."


    As Marcus put his radio away, Broughan was already moving. He whistled sharply, catching the attention of four militia members who were clearing a nearby garage. They quickly finished their task before immediately disengaging and running over to assist with whatever needed to be done.


    With his impromptu team assembled, Broughan led the way toward the house the 206 had indicated. They moved swiftly but cautiously, leapfrogging each other, always keeping someone on overwatch as they approached the side yard. However, the scene before them grew grimmer and grimmer with each step. The ground was littered with the bodies of Scroungers and Kobolds, a macabre trail of breadcrumbs leading to the ongoing scuffle.


    The sounds of the fight grew louder as they drew near. The snarls and hisses of the Scroungers mingled with the distinctive yips and yaps of the Kobolds, creating a discordant chorus. Beneath it, all was the constant clang and scrape of metal on metal as weapons clashed in a desperate struggle.


    One of the militia members, a veteran who was too old to get a recall, took point with Brougan and Marcus right close behind. As the team peered into the backyard, a gruesome scene unfolded before their eyes. Two Scroungers and one Kobold lay dead on the ground, their bodies torn and bloodied from what must have been a vicious melee.


    But the fight wasn''t over. A second Kobold, wounded but alive, was straddling another Scrounger, frantically stabbing at the creature with a spear that had been snapped in half. The Kobold screamed with each thrust, a primal, desperate sound that spoke of pure survival instinct.


    The Scrounger thrashed and howled, its claws raking at the Kobold, but its struggles were growing weaker. Finally, with one last, gurgling stab, the Scrounger went still.


    Broughan and his team watched in stunned silence, their mouths agape. They had suspected they were in conflict since arriving at the scene, but to see their theories confirmed in real time was something else entirely. To see them fighting each other with such savagery was truly a sight to behold.


    However, their gawking was interrupted as the Kobold fell back onitss rear while clutching at its own wounds. Its breath came in ragged gasps and its small body shook from pain and exhaustion. But then, as if sensing it was being watched, the Kobold turned its head.


    Its eyes widened in fear as it saw the group of heavily armed humans staring at it from across the yard. For a moment, no one moved. The Kobold and the Minutemen stared at each other, unsure how to react to one another.


    Then, with a yelp of fear, the Kobold shot to its feet and began limping away in a desperate bid to escape this new threat.


    "Catch the little fucker!" Broughan shouted, already vaulting over the small chain link fence meant to keep in a small dog. His men were right behind him, their gear clanking away as they vaulted over themselves to catch the little bastard.


    Nevertheless, the chase didn¡¯t last long, as the Broughan caught up to the limping lizard in a matter of seconds. A panicked and pathetic yip left the Kobolds mouth as Broughan¡¯s much heavier body slammed into it, sending them both crashing into the ground.


    The Kobold yipped and yapped in horror as it squirmed with all its might, desperately trying to escape Broughan''s grasp. It managed to wriggle free for a brief moment, its small, wiry frame slipping through Broughan''s hands, but its freedom was short-lived.


    Almost immediately, another Minuteman slammed into the Kobold, sending it careening back to the ground. What followed was a chaotic flurry of kicks, punches, and rifle butts as the Minutemen tried to subdue the poor struggling creature.


    Getting back on his feet, Broughan ran over to assist, barking orders as he did so. "Hold it down!" he yelled as he pressed down on the creature''s snout to prevent it from biting. "Don''t let it get away!"


    A whole slew of eyes from the house whose yard they were in were peering out behind curtains as the Kobold continued to resist, curling into a tight ball to protect itself from the onslaught. Meanwhile, Broughan scanned the backyard for something, anything that could help. His eyes then fell on a small sailboat that was falling apart, and without hesitation, he sprinted over to it.


    Reaching the boat, Broughan quickly pulled out his knife and began sawing at the rigging with frantic urgency. In a matter of seconds, he had a length of cord in his hands.


    He raced back to the struggling group, the rope clutched tightly in his fist. "Tie the little shit up!" he yelled, tossing the cord to his men.


    Catching the rope, the Minutemen immediately got to work in securing the Kobold. Each person held a body part, pinning it down with their body weight as another began to tie it up like a Thanksgiving turkey. The process was tricky and was made all the more difficult by the Kobold''s continued resistance as it snapped and hissed. One of the Minutemen, a burly man with a thick beard, nearly lost a finger to those razor-sharp fangs as the Kobold snapped pitch in a bite. Luckily, the man yanked his hand away just in time, but a tooth still snagged his hand, ripping open a fresh wound.


    "Watch it!" Broughan warned, seeing the close call. "Someone muzzle the fuck before it takes a chunk out of one of you!"


    Not leaving it to chance, the Minutemen, who were basically sitting on the lizard''s chest, started unwrapping the paracord on his knife handle. The man didn¡¯t waste any time in wrapping it around the Kobold''s snout and yanking tightly, making it impossible for the Kobold to open its mouth. It was a makeshift muzzle, but it served its purpose well.


    With the Kobold¡¯s mouth now forcibly shut and its limbs hog-tied, the poor thing could only emit muffled whimpers as the Minutemen finished their work. However, it made the creature finally safe to hand as Marcus hefted the trussed-up Kobold over his shoulder with a grunt. The creature''s small body dangled like a sack of potatoes as Marcus turned to Broughan with a questioning look on his face.


    "What are we gonna do with this thing?" he asked, adjusting his grip on the squirming captive.


    A crease ran through Broughan''s forehead as he raised his eyebrow in thought and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess we¡¯re gonna hand it over to the police or something. ¡°He replied after a moment. "Maybe the little shit has some valuable intel they could exploit or something. I dunno. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."


    Silence reigned between the team before Marcus simply shrugged and adjusted himself causing the Kobold to bounce on his shoulder. "Hey, you''re the boss," he said, his tone neutral. "If you think it''s worth a shot, then why not?."


    Broughan nodded, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Truth be told, he wasn''t entirely sure if this was the right move. It had been an impromptu decision made in the heat of the moment. But they were in uncharted territory here anyway, so just like Marcus said¡­ Why the hell not?


    Pushing his doubts aside, Broughan beckoned to Marcus with his hand¡¯ Gimme your radio for a minute.¡± He said as Marcus reached for his belt and tossed the thing over in one fluid movement.


    "All teams, report status," Broughan said after catching the Radio and switch frequencies,


    And one by one, the teams checked in, each reporting their sector clear. No more Scroungers, no more Kobolds. It seemed the battle, at least for now, was over.


    Broughan acknowledged each report with a satisfied nod before switching back to the channel with the circling Bell 206. "206, this is Brau. You see anything up there?"


    ¡°Hold one.¡± The pilot''s voice came back calm and professional. And after a minute or two of silence, the report came back. "Negative. Snipers are telling me that the area appears pretty much clear, over."


    "Roger that," Broughan said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Maintain overwatch. We''re preparing to get out of here. Over."


    "Copy that, we''ll keep an eye out."


    With that, Broughan ended the transmission, but he pulled out his phone and began tapping away at the screen. A heavy sigh left his mouth as he navigated to his specific job in the Minutemen app and stared at the options momentarily.


    Looking around him and hearing no more sounds of gunfire, Broughan gave one final tap on the big, bold letters that said COMPLETE JOB and hit the acknowledgment. Almost instantly after hitting the acknowledgment that he had indeed concluded his business in the area, his phone automatically dialed a number. An automated routing system then immediately connected his call to the joint state and federal emergency services that monitored the app.


    After a few rings, a feminine voice belonging to a dispatcher spoke up. "Mr. Bitterly," the woman said calmly and professionally. ¡°This is Dispatcher Johnson. Can you confirm that your job is complete?"


    "Confirmed," Broughan said in a tired but steady tone. "And we have a plus one package with potential intel. Where do you want us to drop it off?"


    There was a moment of silence as the sound of typing and hushed conversation echoed in the background. Then, the dispatcher spoke again. "Bring the package to the Downtown Precinct. They''ll have a team ready to take custody. Good work out there, Mr. Bitterly."


    ¡°Yep, thanks,¡± Broughan grunted in acknowledgment, then ended the call. He looked around at his men, Marcus with the Kobold still slung over his shoulder. "Alright, boys," he announced as he stretched his back out.


    "Let''s make like a book and get the fuck out of here."

 Cloaks and Daggers: chapter 75

    With his feet kicked up on the tailgate and a straw hat he had ¡®acquired¡¯ covering his eyes, Elijah lounged in the back of the convoy, enjoying a well-deserved nap. The bumps and jolts from the ox-like creature pulling the cart were far from comfortable, but he¡¯d like to think he found his slice of comfort.


    On his chest, Yana mirrored his position as her tiny head was propped up on his chin. The little fairy seemed to find his facial hair the perfect pillow, with her flickering fiery hair seemingly just gently rubbing against her Apostle.


    Around them, the world was a tapestry of wonder and oddity. The landscape seemed to stretch out in every direction, with vast expanses of rolling hills and strange towering rock formations that seemed to bend and curl in odd directions. But the shapes weren¡¯t the only things interesting about the geology around them. Colors of almost every shade seemed to pop out at them in a way that said as if someone had turned up the saturation on reality itself.


    It all seemed too vivid to be real.


    The grass beneath the cart''s wheels was a shade of green that seemed to pulsate with life. It was a color that no one in the ODA had seen before as it weaved with patches of flowers with petals shimmering in hues of purple, blue, and a yellow so bright it was almost impossible not to look at.


    In the distance, trees, unlike any on Earth, dotted the landscape. Some were massive, their trunks thicker than a dozen redwoods, with leaves that shimmered like polished silver. Others were tall and spindly, their branches twisting and curling in intricate patterns that seemed to defy what most knew about nature. And then there were the ones that looked like giant crystal formations, their translucent leaves tinkling softly in the breeze.


    ¡°Yo, we¡¯re almost there.¡± Bennett nudged Elijah with his boot, causing both the medic and his fairy to stir at the same time.


    Almost as if entirely in sync, Elijah and Yana mirrored the same stretch, pushing their arms over their heads while twisting their bodies. ¡°Mmm¡­ yep¡­¡± the medic groaned groggily as he slowly sat up.


    Sucking in a deep breath, Elijah once again noted that the air itself was different here. It was crisp and clean, with a faint hint of something sweet, like a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. Each breath felt invigorating as if the very atmosphere was infused with a subtle energy that rejuvenated the body and calmed the mind.


    As a matter of fact, he couldn''t help but notice a strange sensation spreading through his body. It was subtle, like a faint tingling that started at the tip of his skin and slowly crept inward, but it was there¡­ Just barely.


    After years as a Special Forces soldier, Elijah had always had some stiffness or soreness from all the abuse he had put his body through. But now he felt some invisible weight had been lifted from his joints like squeaky door hinges getting a few sprays of WD40. It wasn''t a dramatic change but rather a gentle shift, like a knot being loosened in a muscle he didn''t even know was tense.


    With a shake of his head, Elijah dispelled the strange sensation creeping over him. As intriguing as it was, he knew he didn''t have the luxury of dwelling on it now. There was a lot of work to be done and so little time. The mysteries of this new world and the sensations he was feeling were going to have to wait.


    A yawn left Yana¡¯s mouth as she fluttered around Elijah for a few moments before settling on his shoulder. The little fairy rubbed her eyes, blinking in the warm light of the setting sun. as she peered around at the scene around here. ¡°We should go around and try all their food!¡±


    Bennett lazily looked off in the distance when he shifted his gaze to the little fairy. For a few moments, he stared at her intently, trying to gauge whether she was being ridiculous again or actually serious for once. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke. "I second that idea."


    His words were met with a sudden, giant yawn from the front of the cart. Azeline, sitting in the cab, was in the middle of her own luxurious stretch. Her arms extended above her head as she leaned back far enough that her head was hanging upside down over the wall of the cab.


    From this inverted position, she looked at the boys, a playful grin on her face. "Well, I know a few safe places where we can crash and get some food," she said, throwing one leg over the other and letting it bounce up and down. "My Tasker has an in with one of the taverns and their madam."


    Elijah raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this new information. "Tasker?" he asked, curiosity coloring his tone. ¡°Is that like a boss or something? I thought freelancers didn¡¯t have bosses."


    ¡°We don¡¯t.¡± Azeline laughed, the sound light and carefree despite her upside-down position. "At least not a boss in the traditional sense," she clarified. "Taskers are more like handlers, people who set up jobs, give us info, and take a cut of the profits."


    She then shifted to a little more comfortable position, slumping further into her seat. ¡°Taskers come in all kinds of flavors, but mine dabbles more on the illicit side of the fence.¡± Azeline continued. "She''s got connections all over, including in this town, and a madam of one of the taverns  owes us, so we should be able to get a good deal on rooms and meals."


    As Azeline discussed the details of their potential lodgings, Coleman, who had been walking alongside the cart, decided to chime in. He quickened his pace slightly to catch up to the others, his face etched with concern.


    "Woah, woah, woah, woah." he interjected in a low, but urgent voice. "Let¡¯s not be so casual about this, alright?."


    Elijah and Bennett turned to look at him, their expressions curious. Azeline, still lounging in the cab, cocked her head to listen.


    "I''m not saying we can¡¯t trust our local, but¡­" Coleman continued looking to Azeline, who narrowed her eyes at him, "We''re about to enter a town with a lot of unknowns."


    He looked to Azeline, putting up placating hands. "I¡¯m not saying I don¡¯t trust you, but can we really trust anyone in this town? I mean, what do we actually know? And this madam, what''s her deal? Is she just a tavern owner, or is there more to it?"


    Azeline sat up a little straighter and turned her body to meet Coleman¡¯s gaze. "I see where you¡¯re coming from," she replied in an even tone. "But you have to understand, in my line of work, trust is a relative thing. I trust people, including my Tasker, as much as I can trust anyone in this business. They''ve never steered me wrong before."


    She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "As for the madam, well, let''s just say her business extends beyond just running a tavern. But that''s part of why she''s so well-connected. She hears things and knows things. She''s a valuable resource."


    Coleman frowned, not entirely satisfied with this answer. "How do we know she won''t sell us out? If she''s got her fingers in so many pies, who''s to say one of those pies isn''t working against us?"


    Elijah, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "Coleman, this is literally the point of going in with a local," he said as he moved to cover up any technology or weapons that may have been poking through. "No matter what, we''re going to be exposing ourselves."\


    The medic¡¯s words seemed to strike a chord with Coleman, but the team leader still looked uncertain. He opened his mouth to respond, but Elijah continued before he could get a word in. "Look, I get it," Elijah said, his tone understanding but firm. "There are risks. Big ones. But that''s part of the job, isn''t it? We can''t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."


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    ¡° This isn''t breakfast, Eli.¡± Coleman frowned, his brow furrowing. "I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m not particularly keen on being fried by Harry Potter or the Wicked Witch of the West, so we can''t just go in half-cocked and hope for the best."


    A sigh left Elijah¡¯s mouth as his hand ran through his hair. "I''m not saying we go in blind and know you don¡¯t like it. However, sometimes, you''ve just got to go with the flow and see where the current takes you.¡± He explained his position as he turned toward the slowly approaching town. ¡°The potential payoff in intel, in subverting the local power structures... it''s too big to pass up."


    Coleman''s frustration was evident on his face. He looked to Bennett and Azeline, hoping for some backup, but found only thoughtful expressions. They seemed to be considering Elijah''s words, weighing the risks and rewards in their minds. "I don''t like it," he responded as he made a chopping motion with his hand to drive the point home. "The unknowns, the potential for things to go sideways... That¡¯s not how I like to operate."


    ¡°Cole, this type of shit is the reality of our situation. We''re in a new world, playing by new rules. We have to adapt and take some chances, or opportunities will slip by." He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, Elijah looked to Azeline and Bennett before speaking again. "But if you''re really not comfortable with it if you think the risks outweigh the potential benefits... I can go in alone. I¡¯ve done solo Recces by myself plenty of times. I can handle it."


    A hint of alarm flashed across Coleman¡¯s face as his eyes. "What!? No!" He shook his head vehemently. "There''s no way in hell I''m sending ANYONE in alone, Eli. Especially not you."


    Elijah furrowed his brow and raised his hands in bewilderment.¡± What the fuck is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°You know damn well what I mean,¡± Coleman replied, pointing a knife hand at his medic. ¡°You''re a damn good operator¡ªone of the best. But you''re also... unpredictable. A wildcard. Sending you in alone, with no backup, no oversight... it''s a gamble I''m not willing to take."


    Irritation crept into Elijah¡¯s voice as he recoiled at the accusation. ¡°What the fuck? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m going to go all murder hobo and start merking people like it''s going out of fashion!¡±


    "That''s not the point," Coleman countered, his tone growing more serious. "I know you¡¯re not, but when you''re on your own, you tend to... improvise. To take risks, make judgment calls that might not always align with the mission parameters."


    He held up a hand, forestalling the argument he could see brewing in Elijah''s eyes. "I''m not saying it''s always a bad thing. Your instincts and adaptability have gotten us much farther than I¡¯d ever hoped, but in a situation like this, with so many unknowns... I need to know that everyone is on the same page, following the same playbook¡­


    ¡°And you tend to throw the playbook at the wall at your earliest convenience." Coleman finished, narrowing his eyes.


    A sour look flashed across Elijah''s face as Coleman''s words sank in. He leaned back, rolling his eyes in a display of frustration. As much as he hated to admit it, Coleman had a point. Elijah''s methods could be unorthodox. His approach to problems was often unconventional. It was part of what made him effective, but it also made him a liability in the eyes of the US Army.


    But that didn''t mean he had to like it.


    Elijah knew that his team leader was a stickler for rules and procedures that minimized risk as the cost of effect. It was a Modus operandi that stood directly opposite Elijah''s own, trending towards mitigating risk, not avoiding it altogether. The risk was an omnipotent force that would always be an issue regardless of what one did. Still, he subscribed to the philosophy he had learned from the Marines whenever he worked with them: be aggressive enough, quickly enough, and push opportunities when they arose.


    However, after years of conflict with his command, Elijah finally learned when it was best just to shut up and take a back seat. To his chagrin, the medic wasn''t about to voice these thoughts to Coleman. Not now, not when they were just about to enter a town with its myriad of potential threats and opportunities, and especially not when the team leader was antsy. The last thing he needed was ANOTHER incident on the field, where he got kicked out altogether.


    So, instead, Elijah bit his tongue. He swallowed his objections and nodded. "Alright, fine," he replied in a carefully neutral tone. "A solo Recce is out of the question. What do you suggest other than trusting our local?"


    Coleman took a deep breath, his brow furrowed in thought. He turned to Azeline, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "Alright, Azeline," he said, his tone serious but not unkind. "You''re our local expert here. What can you tell us about the town''s layout and the key players we need to be aware of?"


    Azeline let out an exasperated sigh as she started to tie her long, blonde hair into a bun. "Guys, I already told you the layout of the town and most of what I know about it in general," she said, her tone a mix of patience and mild annoyance.


    Nevertheless, she repeated the information for the benefit of the group. "The town is divided into several districts. The central district is where most of the trade and commerce happens and where you''ll find the more upscale establishments, including the tavern my Tasker has connections with. The outer districts are more residential, but they''re also where you''ll find the seedier elements - thieves'' dens, black markets, that sort of thing."


    She paused, making sure everyone was following before continuing. "Now, as for who''s in control... officially, it''s the Empire. They have a presence here, but it''s not as heavy as in some of the larger cities. Glennsworth is far enough away from Aldenshore that it''s become a sort of mini-capital for smugglers."


    The Shieldmaiden waver her hand nonchalantly and spoke as if this was common knowledge. "The real power in Glennsworth lies with the various underground gangs and organizations. They use the town as a staging area for smuggling operations, taking advantage of its location on the Idylls River."


    "I don¡¯t really have anything more than that, honestly.¡± She shrugged as a hint of an apology echoed in her voice. ¡°I haven''t spent much time in Glennsworth myself. Smuggling isn''t really my thing - I''m more the muscle, the enforcer type. But this is what I''ve gathered from my Tasker and other freelancers that did jobs there.¡±


    Coleman rubbed his face, grumbling under his breath as he tried to process this information and formulate a plan. The situation was more complex than he had initially thought, with multiple factions to consider and a delicate power balance to navigate.


    After a moment, he spoke. "Okay, here''s what we''ll do. We''ll split into two cells. The first group will enter the town and secure lodging at the tavern Azeline mentioned. They''ll start making nice with the locals and gathering intel. The second group will come in next, posing as merchants. They''ll stage near the gates if we need to make a quick exfil."


    But before he could continue, Elijah interjected. "Why don''t we make it three cells?" he suggested, his tone thoughtful. "Two teams of three, one team of six¡­¨C¡± The medic stopped mid-sentence, realizing they were short one man. ¡°Well, five, since Silva is all messed up.


    His hand waved dismissively as he continued to put out his plan. ¡°The first team makes entry and secures the tavern. The second team comes in as merchants and try to source secondary lodging. And the third team acts as a quick reaction force and posture if anything goes to shit?" Elijah lazily turned to Coleman and saw he was warming up to the idea."We decentralize our operations. That way, I get what I want, and if one team gets compromised, the others can still function. We don''t all go down in one fell swoop."


    Coleman opened his mouth, ready to dismiss Elijah''s proposal outright out of habit. But he paused, his mouth still open, as the gears in his mind started to turn. A few moments of silence passed as he sucked in a deep breath, his forehead creasing as he furrowed his brows in contemplation.


    As much as he hated to admit it, it was... a sound plan. Despite Elijah''s somewhat unhinged nature, the man was a damn good strategist. His tactical mind was sharp, always looking for angles and contingencies.


    Finally, Coleman spoke in a reluctant but approving tone. "Alright, we''ll go with three cells." He said, looking around at the group. "Here''s how we''ll divide it up. Bennet, Elijah, and I will be part of Team One. Kwon takes Team Two. Lister will be in charge of the QRF."


    He then looked at Azeline and gave her a complicated look. The elf woman seemed to mesh well with Elijah, and in Coleman¡¯s opinion, that was somewhat problematic."Azeline, are you willing to stay with the caravan? It might go a long way to¨C"


    "No," Azeline cut off the human in a flat, deadpan tone. A about of silence lingered between the two before she jerked her thumb toward Elijah. "I''m going with him." She said definitively.


    Elijah couldn''t help but huff in amusement at Azeline''s response. The sound caused Coleman to shoot him an icy glare, and in return, the medic threw up his arms and made a face that said he didn¡¯t do anything and remained silent.


    Turning attention back to Azeline Coleman, she looked to argue further, but the woman shot him with her own glare as her lip curled up into a snarl. Realizing it was best to let sleeping dogs lie and take what he could get, he shook his head and relented. "Alright," he said with a sigh. "Azeline''s with Team One, then."


    ¡°Okay then¡­¡± Coleman grumbled before turning towards the Australian¡¯s vehicles and operators who were escorting them. "I guess I¡¯ll go and see if our Aussie friends are interested in helping us enter the town¡­ We¡¯re gonna need more bodies if shit goes south." He finished before turning around and walking towards the SASR LRPVs.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 76

    As the sun dipped halfway over the horizon, it cast a warm and gentle glow over the landscape as it threatened to disappear quickly. Shadows seemed to extend endlessly while sensationally colored lights danced along the ground as Azeline, Elijah, Coleman, and Bennett made their way toward the gates of Glennsworth as an advanced party.


    There was a strange beauty to this that seemed to capture the adventurers. It wasn''t the familiar oranges and reds they were used to in their world, but this world also included a mesmerizing dance of blues, purples, and greens from the crystal-like plants and the weird bioluminescence dotting the landscape. The colors shifted and swirled like a mirage, creating an almost psychedelic display.


    Taken from that freelancer Azeline had ended, Elijah rested a two-handed axe leisurely over his shoulder as he followed his local expert as she strode toward the gate with a self-assured gait.


    ¡°Hey, Yana,¡± Elijah suddenly called out as he looked over at his shoulder to see a fairy, her legs carelessly as she sat on his shoulder. ¡°If you hide for me, I¡¯ll let you watch more stuff when we settle down.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡­.. Kay!¡± Yana seemed to chirp happily at the prospect of watching more of those strange plays on her mortal''s strange devices. She then hopped up on her feet and jumped into his hood without using her wings before yanking on a fist full of his hair. ¡±I expect my standard tribute when you¡¯re done doing whatever it is your mortals do.¡±


    A sigh left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he turned his attention away from his Patron and back towards his Azeline, who was leading the way. Just ahead, he saw a small group of guards lounging lazily by the gate. The men were doing the absolute minimum as they inspected each cart and questioned each individual who attempted to enter the town. The Guard''s postures remained relaxed, and their expressions bored. It was as if they seemed just about fed up with the day, eager for their shift to end and the night to begin.


    Almost as if sensing his gaze, Azeline turned her head around and smiled coyly at him. ¡°Let me do all the talking.¡±


    Coleman and Bennett were hot on their heels with spears taken from the caravan gripped in their hands. They had opted for more traditional weapons to blend in better with the local populace.


    ¡°You sure that¡¯s a good play?¡± Coleman voiced his concern as he stared at Azeline hard with a somewhat worried look.


    Elijah turned to look at his team leader, ¡°The local is gonna know how to deal with other locals.¡± He said somewhat incredulously. ¡°Just let her do her thing.¡±


    He knew Coleman was extremely nervous about this entry, and he also knew the man was somewhat of a control freak, especially when there were so many unknown variables. But trying to micromanage a situation he had almost zero experience in or, hell, a frame of reference in was the surest way to get them all made.


    A sour look formed on Coleman''s face as he shot a glare toward his subordinate but remained silent. As much as he didn¡¯t like it, Coleman knew that Elijah was right. He had just to let go and place his fate in the hands of this elf and hope for the best. Any interference with any local interaction could have a disastrous effect, and he wasn¡¯t stupid enough to screw it all up just because he was nervous.


    Seeing him settle down, Elijah tightened his grip on his axe. Despite how casually he had waved off and dismissed Coleman''s worries, he shared them as well. He, too, didn¡¯t particularly like how little control he had over the situation, but he was also far more experienced in dealing with these types of scenarios.


    As they drew closer to the gate, Elijah allowed Azeline to take the lead. His mind instead turned to the razor-sharp ax in his hands in order to take his mind off his own anxiety. The weapon was almost perfectly balanced, and in his opinion, as deadly as any firearm in the hands of any of these punch wizards.


    A huff of amusement escaped Elijah¡¯s mouth as his mind went to the new moniker he came up with for these magic-using warriors. ¡°Punch Wizards.¡± He breathed out humorously.


    Just when Azeline approached the guards, she waved at them with a friend and disarming smile. "Evening, gentlemen," she called out in a light and airy tone. "Long day of doin¡¯ nothing?"


    One of the guards, a shorter human male with a scarred face, looked up in irritation when he heard Azeline''s voice. His eyes narrowed as recognition dawned, and a snarl twisted across his features. "Well, well, well," he drawled lazily as he looked at Elijah and the rest of the squad behind him. "If it ain''t the elf bitch herself."


    Azeline''s smile never wavered, and as a matter of fact, it seemed to beam brighter at the sound of agitation in the guards voice. "Nice to see you too, Garrik," she replied a repulsively fluffy tone. "I see your manners haven''t improved since last we met."


    Garrik spat on the ground as his sneer deepened. "G¡¯feck yerself," he growled, the words dripping with venom. "What brings your knife-eared ass back to Glennsworth? Thought ye''d had go do yer damned job and fecked off. Yer boss know yer still millin¡¯ about?"


    But even as he spoke, the guard was walking towards them, his hand outstretched in a beckoning motion. "Come on, then," he said impatiently. "Hurry up and quit wasting my time. Ye know the drill."


    The sound of laughter rang out in the evening air as Azeline held her head with one hand and used the other to dig into her pocket in order to pull out a single silver coin, holding it up between two fingers. "Don¡¯t worry about it, you filthy dreg. This should cover us, right?" she asked, her eyebrow arched. "I don''t wanna hear no bullshit from you or your boys."


    After seeing how easy it was to get the bribe out of the usually stingy woman, a glint of greed sparked in Garrik¡¯s eye as he stared at the sparkling coin. He quickly approached Azeline and reached out to grab it but suddenly stopped halfway through as a thought crossed his mind. His gaze then drifted to her companions behind her, and she realized they weren¡¯t the same people.


    "These ain''t the folks you left with," he said accusingly in an almost enthusiastic tone. "You picking up strays now? There¡¯s been talk of bandits and invaders ¡®round these parts¡­" He sneered, sensing an opportunity.


    Coleman tensed as his hand tightened on his spear. The accusation and implied threat of the guard''s tone caused his anxiety to spike as his other hand drifted to his hidden rifle. But before he could think to do anything, he felt Elijah''s hand squeeze his arm firmly, but gently.


    "Relax, this is just posturing." Elijah calmly whispered next to Coleman. "He''s just being a greedy bitch, trying to squeeze a little more money out of her."


    Azeline, meanwhile, was unfazed and shrugged carelessly. "I said don¡¯t worry about it. This also means to ignore my new crew," she said simply. "You know how it is in our line of work."


    Garrik''s eyes narrowed further as his calculating gaze swept across each face. "Aye, I suppose I do," he said slowly. "But that don''t explain why I should let ''em in. One silver for you, sure. But these louts? They look like they might be trouble." The guard licked his lips hungrily


    Suddenly, Azeline¡¯s posture shifted from casual to confrontational in a heartbeat as her eyes narrowed at the greedy son of a bitch. "One silver per person?" she repeated, her voice dripping with scorn. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Garrik?"


    The guard scoffed, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but his lust for coin was getting the better of him. "Times are tough, elf," he said, trying to sound conciliatory. "There be a war, and the Empire is bein¡¯ all uppity. Gotta make a living somehow and your friends here look like they can afford it."


    Azeline shook her head in disbelief at the sheer gall of the man trying to take advantage of her even though she knew who she worked for. "You''re a feckless idiot if you think I''m stupid enough to pay more than a single silver for everyone here!?" She snarled, taking a step forward into Garrik''s personal space. "One coin covers the whole party, in and out, whenever we damn well please. That''s the deal, and you fucking know it."


    To his credit Garrik held his ground in the face of someone as intimidating as Azeline, but Elijah could see the sweat starting to bead on his brow. "Now, now," he said, his tone wheedling. "Let''s not be hasty. These are dangerous times, what with all the new faces coming through. Can''t be too careful. Surely an extra coin or two, for the sake of security..."


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    But Azeline was having none of it. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword as her eyes blazed with fury. "Listen to me, you greedy sack of shit," she hissed, her voice low and deadly. "I''ve had just about enough of your games. One silver, for all of us. That''s the end of it. Push me on this, and I swear by all the gods, I will run you through and leave your corpse for the Rottwings!" Azeline growled, pulling her sword out.


    ¡°The feck ya say to me, whore!?¡± Garrik shouted in anger as he snapped his finger, causing the other guards to surround Azeline and her group in a semicircle. ¡°Ye fecked up, elf! Ain¡¯t no one gonna know ye gonna when you ain¡¯t here on business!¡±


    The tension in the air became palpable as Coleman watched the situation spiral out of control. The movement of the other guards screamed danger as his hidden rifle inched closer to the opening of his cloak. His body was coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of violence.


    But just as Coleman was about to make his move, Elijah''s voice cut through the tension. "Chill, dude," he said, his tone casual but firm. "They''re not gonna do anything. This is all just a show."


    Coleman glanced at Elijah, his brow furrowed in confusion. But the medic just grinned, nodding towards Garrik and his men. "The fucker''s peacocking," he explained, keeping his voice low. "Trying to see what he can get away with. But he''s not gonna push it."


    Even as Elijah spoke, however, the guards were getting shifty. They pointed their polearms at Azeline and postured and poised themselves aggressively, ready to attack. A smug smile floated across Garrik¡¯s face as took a few steps back, clearly enjoying the show.


    "Take her down on me mark, boys," he ordered, his voice dripping with anticipation. "Let''s show this elf bitch what happens when ye don''t pay the toll."


    But Azeline just laughed, the sound cold and mocking. She looked around at the guards, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "You think you and your little band of losers intimidate me?" she asked in an unbelieving and incredulous tone. "Garrik, you know who I am. You know what I''m capable of."


    There was a moment of tense silence as Garrik and Azeline stared each other down. The guards, for all their bravado, seemed to be having second thoughts. They knew Azeline''s reputation and knew that she was not someone to be trifled with.


    As Garrik and Azeline squared off, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. The guards, despite their aggressive posturing, were looking increasingly nervous. All of them were well aware that she was a trained mana user and had seen her handle individuals they couldn¡¯t even hope to scratch. Yet they surrounded Azeline with their weapons drawn, pointed directly at her. It was clear they were doing this more out of a sense of duty to Garrik than any real belief that they could win.


    Azeline, for her part, seemed utterly unconcerned. She smiled mockingly and condescendingly at Garrik while twirling her sword playfully in one hand. Her strange shield was pointed directly at the guard lieutenant, a clear challenge.


    Garrik met her gaze as his eyes bore into hers with a fierce glare. But despite his steely expression, there were cracks in his facade. The guard leader''s hands fidgeted nervously at his sides, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.


    The standoff seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the air crackling with tension. But in the end, it was Garrik who broke first.


    With a growl of frustration, he kicked at the dirt as his face twisted in a scowl. "Fine," he spat, holding out his hand. "Gimme the damn silver coin, ye damned whore. It ain''t worth dying over."


    Azeline''s smile widened, taking on a truly mocking edge. She sheathed her sword with a flourish, giggling as she did so before tossing him the singular silver coin. "Smart for someone so stupid," she replied, her voice dripping with condescension.


    Garrik glared at her, his eyes burning with humiliation and rage. But he said nothing as he snatched the silver coin from Azeline''s hand, waving her and the others through the gate with a curt gesture.


    But as they started to move forward, Azeline paused. She reached into her pouch and pulled out five more silver coins, the ones Elijah had given her from the stash they''d found in the ruined village.


    "Here," she said, dropping them to the ground and kicking them toward Garrik in a mocking fashion. "There''s a caravan of villagers from Twineward coming through later. Don''t inspect them, just let them pass."


    The already angry guard leader became even more furious as he opened his mouth But Azeline cut him off before he could speak. "Ah, Ah.¡± She cooed in a patronizing fashion. ¡°If I hear you were any trouble for anyone in that caravan," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of steel. "You¡¯ll be making trouble for Indi."


    The mention of Indi''s name sent a visible shockwave through the gathered guards. Even Garrik, for all his bluster and bravado, couldn''t hide the flash of fear that crossed his face as he took a few steps back. At least Tamos had told him that this damned elf had concluded her job Indi had tasker her. But Garrik knew that bastard was dumb as bricks and was wrong a lot more often than he was even halfway correct.


    The usual facade Garrik wore started to crack, revealing the terror beneath. Indi''s name always evoked a mix of awe and dread. The mysterious figure was known to have their fingers in every pie, from the humblest beggar to the richest of merchants. Those who crossed them had a habit of disappearing, only to turn up later in the Idylss River, a stone tied to their feet.


    It didn''t matter who you were - a lowly guardsman or even the mayor. If you interfered with Indi''s business... you were signing your own death warrant.


    Not so long ago, there had been a time when the town had gone through several mayors in quick succession. Each thought of themselves above Indi''s influence, and each tried to assert their own authority. And each had met a grisly end, their bodies washing up on the riverbank, bloated and fish-eaten.


    Since then, a simple understanding has been reached.


    Don¡¯t poke your nose into Indi¡¯s business.


    Everyone knew Azeline often worked for Indi, and with just a few words, the elf had invoked her boss¡¯ authority and placed the coming caravan under Indi''s protection. She made it clear that any interference would be seen as a direct challenge to her boss.


    Garrik looked like he might be sick as his face went pale. His hands trembled as he quickly bent over to pick up the silver coins. He knew, with a sinking certainty, that he had no choice but to comply. "U-understood," he stammered, his earlier bravado completely evaporated. "The caravan will pass through unmolested. Ye have my word."


    Azeline''s smile was like a razor''s edge. "Good," she purred. "See that it does. Indi doesn''t take kindly to disappointment."


    With that, Azeline waved for the others to follow her as she strode into the city. Elijah and the rest fell into step behind her, leaving the guards chirping nervously at each other, as if they had just narrowly avoided a brush with death.


    As they passed through the gate, Coleman quickened his pace to walk alongside Azeline. "That was impressive¡­" he commented, his tone a mix of admiration and curiosity. "But why didn''t you drop Indi''s name earlier? Could have saved us a lot of trouble."


    Azeline glanced at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Garrik''s the kind of man who only responds to a firm hand," she explained. "If I had played that card too early, he might have thought he could still push his luck, maybe try to squeeze a little more out of us."


    She shook her head, her expression turning serious. "No, with bullies like him, you need to put them in their place first. Show them that you''re not to be trifled with. Then, and only then, do you use a higher authority."


    Elijah, who had been listening in, chimed in. "You give a guy like that an inch, he''ll try to take a mile. You''ve got to shut that down hard and fast, or he''ll start thinking he can poke his nose where it doesn''t belong."


    He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "A quick kick in the nuts, a little humiliation... it reminds him who''s really in charge. After that, he''ll do what he''s told, no questions asked."


    Coleman looked at the two of them as a flicker of suspicion crept across his gaze. He had already put together that Azeline worked for the more¡­ underground elements of this world, but Elijah seemed to be equally as knowledgeable. It made him wonder just how much experience the medic had with these kinds of situations and where he learned it from.


    But before he could dwell on it further, Coleman realized they had just fully entered the town, and the sights and sounds of Glennsworth drove all other thoughts from his mind.


    It was a place that buzzed with an energy that was at once alien and familiar. In many ways, it resembled the medieval towns Coleman had seen in movies or shows ¨C narrow, winding streets lined with stone buildings, the clang of blacksmiths'' hammers ringing out from open-air forges, the cries of street vendors hawking their wares.


    But there were also elements that were distinctly fantastical. Vegetation seemed to grow from every crack and crevice, vines, mushrooms, and strange, luminescent flowers sprouting from the very stones of the streets and winding along walls. Children and diminutive creatures darted through the crowds, baskets strapped to their backs, plucking the growths and tossing them into their containers as they went about.


    And then there were the people themselves. Humans mingled with a smorgasbord of beings that ranged from the elves to the outright bizarre. Coleman saw a towering figure that looked like it was a damned Minotaur, except the man had tanned skin and goat horns. Then, there was a slender being that was similar to the elves, except their skin was like obsidian, and then a short creature that seemed to be somewhat similar to the mythical Satyrs walked by. But¡­ instead of the standard males that were standard in mythology, these were a mix of males and females.


    Shaking his head, Coleman reached into his cloak and discreetly clicked his radio to life. "This is Baron 1 to all entry elements," he said, his voice low but clear. "We''ve secured entry into the town for the caravan. Integrate with them and proceed as planned. Over."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 77

    Bennett let out a low whistle as they made their way through the somewhat crowded streets of Glennsworth. "It¡¯s like one of your shitty animes, Eli," he said, with eyes wide with wonder. "Try not to fuck anything, okay?"


    "Eat my ass, Ben," Elijah replied distractedly as his eyes followed one of the Satyr-like beings that had the lower half resembling a bipedal goat with short but shaggy fur and cloven hooves. But besides the hooves and fur, she was all woman, with smooth, ashen skin and a mane of wild, wavy hair that framed her face like a lion''s.


    The Satyr-like woman wore a simple tunic that left her breasts and midriff bare, and around her neck hung a variety of charms and talismans, each one glinting in the sunlight as she moved. But it wasn¡¯t her exotic and alluring features that caught Elijah¡¯s attention. It was her beautiful face.


    With high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. As she passed by, the Satyr-like woman turned to the medic and smiled brightly before giving him a wink. Elijah couldn¡¯t help but gawk as he stared at her hips, which swayed with a provocative grace.


    When his eyes finally floated up, Elijah noticed the small horns protruding from the front of her head. They curled aggressively back into her hair, giving her an air of untamed wildness that said she¡¯d ram you if trifled with.


    But just as Elijah found himself captivated by the alluring Satyr-like woman, she suddenly came to a stop on the other side of the road. Turning to face him fully, she flashed a seductive smile, her eyes locking with his in an inviting gaze.


    For a moment, Elijah''s other head started thinking for him while his mind raced with the possibilities after seeing those horns. He kept walking with the group, but god damn was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. But before his perverted thoughts could take another turn, he felt a sharp yank on his arm. Yelping in surprise, Elijah stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance.


    "Oh no, you don''t," Azeline said, her grip on his arm firm as she dragged him along. "Leave the Enaeris alone."


    Elijah regained his footing, shooting Azeline a look of annoyed confusion. "Yo, what the fuck?¡±


    Bennett rubbed his scraggly beard as he furrowed his brow. ¡°Enaeris? Is that what they''re called?"


    Azeline nodded at the engineer, not slowing her pace as she dragged Elijah along. "Yes, and you''re not getting involved with one,¡± she scolded as she turned back to Elijah, who seemed to struggle under the woman¡¯s strength. We need to get to the tavern. You can find working girls there if you''re that desperate."


    She then shot him a warning look. "Knowing your luck, you''ll end up with some cultist that mind-fucks you into self-sacrifice. Next thing you know, you''ll be ripping out your own intestines so they can eat them."


    Coleman, who had been listening to the exchange, blanched. "Jesus, what the hell?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with horror. ¡°Are you being hyperbolic?¡±


    A grim expression spread across Azeline¡¯s face as she shook her head. "I wish I were, but there are factions of radical extremists from certain druidic sects that practice forbidden magic.¡± She said, with a twitching eye. ¡°They''re cannibals, and they use sex as a lure."


    She continued, her voice low and serious. "They keep their victims locked away, using carnal pleasures as part of a ritual spell. It slowly infects the mind with a parasite, driving the person mad." The elf¡¯s eyes then took on a haunted look as she spoke. "And then, in the middle of the orgy, once the spell is complete, the victim uses their bare hands to tear open their own belly. They rip out their intestines, offering them up to the cultists to feast upon."


    Elijah, who had been struggling against Azeline''s grip, suddenly went still. His face paled, and he looked like he might be sick. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. How do you even know this? This has to be some kind of horror story you tell kids or some shit!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really not¡­.¡± Azeline shuddered as she dug into her memory. ¡°I¡¯ve had jobs where I¡¯ve¡­ encountered the aftermath of such rituals and even interrupted a few.¡±


    Bennett, too, looked shaken. He swallowed hard, his Adam''s apple bobbing in his throat. ¡°Okay then," he said, his usual bravado absent from his voice. ¡°Satyr things are evil cultists¡­ Got it¡±


    Azeline sighed, shaking her head. "No, not all of them. Very few Enaeris are actually cultists. Most are just decent folk, but they can be a bit... enthusiastic when it comes to carnal matters." She paused, considering her next words. "But think of it this way. If you had a hundred steamed buns, but one of them would kill you if you ate it, would you take the risk?"


    Finally regaining his footing, Elijah shot Azeline a dirty look as he straightened himself out with a harrumph. Despite the grim warnings, he couldn''t resist glancing back at the alluring Enaeris. As if sensing his gaze, the satyr-like woman turned, waved at Elijah, and then walked off and disappeared into the crowd with a sway of her hips.


    Turning back to Azeline, Elijah gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, I''m not much of a gambler," he admitted. But then, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "But I''d like to consider myself a risk-taker."


    A scoff left Azeiles mouth as she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Of course you do," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Why am I not surprised?"


    Before Elijah could retort with another insufferable comment, Coleman interjected, his voice firm and authoritative. "No," he said, his gaze fixed on Elijah. "We have things to do and places to be. We don¡¯t have time for your dick to lead you into some goddamn cannibalistic cult!" He then pushed Elijah forward with a rather hard shove, causing him to stumble once more. ¡°We have a goddamn tavern to scope out!¡±


    ¡°Okay! Okay! Jesus!¡± Elijah grumbled as he finally started cooperating and followed after Azeline under his own power. ¡°I was just joking, god¡­¡±


    ¡°No, you weren¡¯t.¡± Bennett narrowed his eyes and immediately called out the medic¡¯s bullshit. ¡°Everyone here is well aware of the fact you weren¡¯t kidding.¡±


    Azeline sighed as she placed a hand over her face to hide the exasperated expression that was starting to form. "Just... follow me," she said with a sigh, making it clear just how ridiculous she found this lecherous man¡¯s behavior.


    As she led the way through the winding streets of Glennsworth, the group couldn''t help but marvel at the sights and sounds surrounding them. Every stall, every build, and every shop they passed was just as fascinating as the last.


    Apothecaries with windows full of strange reagents ranging from dried-out animal parts to oddly glowing stones, shelves lined with jars, and vials of every color and size. Weapon shops displayed an array of arms, from the mundane pointy spear to exotic curved blades that gleamed with an otherworldly pulse.


    But what really caught their eye was a rather expensive-looking building, its facade adorned with intricate carvings and glowing symbols. Instead of windows, the shop had strange shimmers that acted as windows into the interior. Through this arcane barrier, they caught glimpses of shelves lined with all manner of weird and wonderful artifacts.


    Crystal orbs swirled with multicolored mists, ancient tomes bound in leather and embossed with glowing runes and ornate staves topped with gems that pulsed with an inner light. It was a veritable treasure trove of magical curiosities, each item more intriguing than the last.


    A relatively thin, petite man with long, flowing, ashen hair emerged from the shop as they watched. His ears, as long as his forearm, drooped slightly, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. With a graceful wave of his hands, the shimmering windows winked out of existence, leaving only solid wooden walls in their place.


    Despite his earlier preoccupation with the sultry Enaeris, Elijah couldn''t help but gawk at the display of magic. "You gotta admit," he said, pointing at the long-eared shopkeeper, "that was pretty damn cool."


    Bennett, equally slack-jawed, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, this is some crazy Final Fantasy shit," he muttered, his eyes wide with wonder.


    Even Coleman, who had been tense and anxious about being surrounded by potential hostiles, couldn''t help but look around wide-eyed at the fantastical displays surrounding them. The wonders of this new world, it seemed, were capable of breaking through even his professionalism.


    Azeline, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. To her, this was just everyday life. Throwing her head over her shoulder, Azeline gave the boys an incredulous look as a crooked smile played on her lips. It was as if they were country bumpkins visiting a town for the first time. It became very evident that she would have to teach them a thing or two before they fully entered the lion''s den.


    But it wasn¡¯t long before the well-maintained streets and bustling merchant stalls gave way to a rougher, dirtier environment. There were no guards or shopkeepers, just distinctly mercenary-looking individuals with hardened faces and rough-spun clothes.


    When Azeline finally found herself standing in front of their destination, she glanced around at the building surrounding it. The tavern looked out of place in comparison to everything else around it. The building was far larger than any other inn or tavern they had passed on their way there, and it seemed to serve far more functions than any similar establishment.


    Gone were the plainly clothed commoners and townsfolk that had populated the main streets. In their stead was a litany of rough-looking and armed freelancers, huddled in their own groups, chatting away or milling about. But once Azeline and her group made their way towards the tavern''s entrance, these mercenary types gave them sidelong glances and appraising looks as they approached. They were already familiar with and wary of Azeline, but her new group was obviously being sized up.


    Azeline, however, ignored these looks entirely. Instead, she glared at anyone stupid enough to stare too long and marched toward the entrance. But once she approached the door, she stopped and spun on her heels to face her group. "Alright, listen up," she said in a low voice. "We need to go over some ground rules before you waltz on in there."


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    She threw a thumb over her shoulder towards the tavern. "This place isn¡¯t just a watering hole or a place where you can get your dick wet. It¡¯s a hub or a general gathering place for taskers and freelancers. It''s where you go to find work, make contacts, and get information."


    Her expression turned serious. ¡°There''s a lot of ego and attitude in there. But most importantly, one of my best friends owns this place, the sister tavern to the one in Aldenshore.¡± Azeline narrowed her eyes as she looked over the humans. ¡°I don¡¯t want any shit being stirred here, so here are the rules."


    She held up a finger. "First, don''t go off talking to random people. Most of the time, they''re not going to be friendly. They''re here to do business, not make friends."


    Another finger went up. "Second, if someone does approach you, be polite but firm. Don''t promise anything, and don''t agree to anything until you''ve had a chance to talk it over with me."


    A third finger. "And third, keep your eyes and ears open, but your mouths shut. Anything you say is going to be used against you by some two-bit tasker looking to cut his teeth or scam you."


    She looked at each of them in turn, her gaze intense. "You''re strangers here. That makes you interesting, but it also makes you targets. So be smart, be cautious, and don¡¯t cause any trouble¡­ ELI." She looked at Elijah, who seemed to be offended by the accusation.


    The man pointed at himself with both hands and mouthed words, ¡®What the fuck?¡¯


    Azeline then fixed the group with a more accommodating gaze. "I know you guys aren¡¯t soft," she said, her tone acknowledging their competence. "And you''re definitely not new to conflict. But you are new to this land, and that will be obvious to everyone in there."


    She paused, making sure her words were sinking in. "Do you all understand?"


    The group nodded, murmuring their assent. Coleman and Bennett''s expressions were serious, their postures alert. Elijah, however, rolled his eyes and muttered his acknowledgment as his attention drifted off to the exotic faces and points of interest around him.


    It seemed this side of town differed notably from the more affluent areas they had passed through earlier. The buildings here were predominantly wooden, with less stone construction than they had seen before. Some structures even looked hastily repaired, bearing the scorch marks of past fires.


    Luckily, the tavern seemed much better maintained and built, its structure more solid and intact than its neighbors.


    As Elijah''s gaze wandered, it fell upon a striking pair of individuals who seemed to be amid an argument. One was a hulking figure, standing at least seven feet tall, with long and pointed ears, while also bearing a deep, ashen grey skin tone that was marred with scars. Two large ram-like horns protruded from his forehead, giving him a fearsome, almost bestial appearance.


    His opponent, in contrast, was a lot more human-looking but stood just a little four feet tall, baring his wild hair, which seemed to point in every direction. Despite his short stature, he was extraordinarily wide and stocky for someone his height, and even from under his massive beard, you could tell his frame was packed with dense muscle. But that was equally true for the ram-horned man both of them had equally impressive physiques, and the gestured wildly, pointing at a scantily clad human woman who looked at them sultrily.


    "What the fuck?" Elijah muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Is that a..."


    But before he could finish his thought, he felt a lightweight settle on his head. Yana, who had been quietly observing until now, interjected flippantly.


    "I think that''s a Tauri and a Dwarf or something," she said, her tiny voice filled with bored nonchalance. I don''t really remember what you mortals call yourselves, but that''s not important."


    Her tone took on an annoying, insistent tone as she yanked at Elijah¡¯s hair. "What''s important is the fact that I smell food in there! I must try it! I demand it!"


    Elijah sighed, reaching up to flick the head of the fairy harassing him. "Yeah, yeah, we''ll get you something to munch on, fatty," he replied in a tone full of exasperation. But stay hidden for now. These freaks might lose their minds when they see you, and I don¡¯t wanna deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Kaaaay,¡± His patron replied just as the door to the taverns opened, but just as soon as Yana had the flippant agreement she had made with her Apstostle, she had forgotten.


    Almost immediately, she buzzed out of Elijah''s hood the moment she heard the sounds of clanking mugs and the roar of laughter. All around was the noise of jubilation and merriment and the little fairy seemed to be intoxicated by it as she flew around erratically


    A flash of panic spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he opened his mouth to yell for the little goddess to come back, but he immediately shut it the moment he saw that no one else seemed to notice the little menace. Shaking his head, the medic jogged forward to catch up with the group, his head swiveling as he tried to keep track of Yana as she seemed to be doing¡­ something.


    Oblivious to Elijah¡¯s worries, Bennett seemed to just be gawking at everyone and everything he saw, while in contrast, Coleman had a nervous, straight-edged look on his face. The team leader''s posture was ramrod straight, and his eyes darted about as if expecting trouble at any moment. Azeline, on the other hand, seemed utterly bored by the proceedings as she walked through the crowd, shoulder-checking and nearly shoving anyone stupid enough to linger in the way


    As they wove their way through the chaotic press of bodies, Elijah shook his head, decided whatever would be, and took in the scene around him as well. As his eyes wandered, he found that there were humans and elves with ears just like Azeline''s, adding a small layer of elegance. Dwarves clustered around low tables, their booming laughter rising above the din, while more of the go, Tauri loomed at the room''s edges, doing their best to eat with the alien utensils in their hands.


    But then, Elijah''s roving gaze fell upon a sight that made his heart skip a beat. There, perched on a raised stool at the bar, was a dark-haired woman unlike any he had ever seen. She was slender and tanned, her body clad in a plain dress that did little to hide her curvaceous form. But what really caught Elijah''s attention were the two furry, feline ears that poked up from her black hair and the long, sinuous tail that whipped back and forth behind her.


    "Bro, bro, bro!" Elijah hissed excitedly, elbowing Bennett repeatedly in the ribs. "Check it out!" He jutted his finger out at the cat-eared woman, his eyes going wide, and a grin split his face.


    Following his gaze, Bennett¡¯s own jaw went slack as he took in the sight.


    The woman was clearly a working girl, one of the many courtesans in this establishment. She was perched on her stool in a way that showcased her incredible flexibility. One leg was raised high and hugged at her chest while the other stretched out on top of the bar next to her. It was a pose that was both alluring and anatomically impressive and highlighted the supple skin of her leg.


    As they watched, a patron approached the cat girl with a sparkling coin twisting in his hand. The elven man¡¯s hand shouted out and began to wander over the feline¡¯s body in a possessive and transactional way as he placed the bronze coins on the table. The woman leaned into his touch, a sultry look on her face, but her eyes were fixed on the coins the man had pulled from his purse.


    Bennett''s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the cat-eared woman. "Oh no..." he muttered under his breath, a sense of dread crept into his voice. Quickly, he reached out and grabbed Coleman''s shoulder, shaking him urgently. "Cole!" he hissed, his voice rising in pitch. Eli found a catgirl!"


    Both Azeline and Coleman whipped around at Bennett''s words, their gazes immediately seeking out Elijah. And there he was, a predatory smile playing at his lips as he licked his fingertips and then smoothed them over his eyebrows in a comical and unsettling gesture.


    With a swagger in his step, Elijah started to saunter towards the bar with his eyes locked on the feline courtesan. But before he could even take a second complete step, both Azeline and Coleman lunged forward, each grabbing one of his arms in a vice-like grip.


    "Nope!" Coleman barked in a stern and unyielding voice. "Not today, dipshit!"


    "Aw, come on, guys," Elijah whined as he stumbled back in the direction the group was headed. "I was just gonna say hello. Maybe offer to buy her a drink."


    Despite Elijah''s half-hearted protests, Azeline and Coleman weren''t about to let him wander off. They kept a firm grip on his arms as they dragged him along. "Come on, you idiot," Azeline grumbled, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "You can get service AFTER we¡¯ve taken care of business."


    A dramatic sight left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he allowed himself to be led, knowing that he wouldn''t win this particular battle. He would just have to wait till no one was looking to slip away.


    After ensuring that Elijah wouldn''t make another break for it, Azeline once again took the lead. They needed to set themselves up with the establishment''s madam, and she knew exactly where to go.


    "Azeline, darling!" she called out, her voice carrying a note of familiarity. "Are you here for another job, love?"


    Azeline nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, got more of Indi¡¯s business to handle," she said, resting a hand on the counter. "I''ve also got some new associates with me this time."


    At the mention of Indi''s name, the receptionist''s eyebrows shot up and a look of understanding dawned on her face. "Oh!" she yelled while her lips formed a perfect ''O'' of surprise. "I see! Well, in that case, let me fetch Mara for you. She''ll want to know about this personally."


    With a wink and a sway of her hips, the receptionist trotted off, disappearing behind a door that separated the tavern from the employee section.


    Azeline let out a sigh, taking a moment to gather herself. But as she turned around to check on her companions, she noticed something odd. Both Bennett and Coleman were still there, peering around and gawking at everything with wide, curious eyes. But Elijah... Elijah was gone.


    But before anyone could panic, Bennett casually jerked his head over to the right. "He''s right here," he said in a dismissive tone.


    Coleman and Azeline turned their heads, and there, indeed, was Elijah. He was seated at a table right next to them, his usual insufferable and charismatic smirk firmly in place, as he chatted with two rather unusual-looking individuals.


    One, an androgynous figure leaning more towards the feminine side, was adorned with a plumage of teal and white feathers instead of hair. The individual seemed even more slender than the catgirl courtesan as he stared at Elijah with a look of trepidation while his partner seemed much more at ease. The feathered one¡¯s friend seemed to be a green-haired sun-elf with a scruffy face and seemed to stare at Elijah as if he was less of a threat and more amusing.


    ¡°...and that''s when I was like, ¡®What? Do you expect me to work in the fuckin¡¯ dark?" The punchline to Elijah¡¯s joke seemed to cause the elf to chuckle and place a hand on his face as a small smile cracked across his feathered partner''s face. "Ahaha! Anyways, I¡¯m Elijah, and my friends and I... we''re somewhat new here. Maybe¡­ I can buy you a drink or two, and you two can tell us the word around here?¡± Elijah leaned forward a bit and placed a few copper-like coins on the table. ¡°I¡¯m kind of sick of dealing with scammy assholes that seemed to fill this hellhole.¡±


    The two local freelancers sitting across from Elijah exchanged a thoughtful glance. Initially, they were dubious of the man, but his strange yet amusing introduction and the mention of a free drink seemed to break the ice and shift their disposition into something accepting. They, too, experienced just how unfriendly the veteran freelancers who had already settled in were, and finding a friendly face or two would be a godsend for them.


    "Ryffka," the feathered one said, introducing themselves with a slight nod.


    "Talarion," the elf followed, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.


    Elijah''s face lit up, his grin widening. "Ryffka, Talarion, it''s a pleasure," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You know, since we''re all kinda new here, how about we team up? I know someone who could get us some work and you can¡¯t go wrong having more people on your first venture out right? ¡°


    Ryffka and Talarion seemed to consider this. The man in front of them seemed just as new to the world of freelancing as they were¡­


    ¡°I¡¯d like to think we¡¯re interested¡­¡± Talarion replied, looking at Ryffka, who nodded.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 78

    While Azeline spoke to someone obscured by the doorway to the employee''s section of the tavern, Bennett and Coleman decided to join Elijah at his table.


    Their earlier worry transformed into a mix of intrigue and admiration as they observed Elijah''s effortless command over the conversation. He exuded a sense of calm, his body language relaxed, and his smile genuine as he interacted with his newfound acquaintances.


    "So, you two are looking to be freelancers too?" Elijah asked, his tone casual and friendly. "I''m always curious to hear what draws people to take up mercenary work."


    Ryffka and Talarion exchanged a glance, a brief moment of silent communication. It was clear they were still somewhat guarded, not quite ready to divulge too much about their personal histories.


    But Elijah, ever perceptive, quickly picked up on this. Instead of pressing the issue, he smoothly redirected the conversation.


    "I mean, you guys don¡¯t have to answer anything you don¡¯t want to, but you know¡­ I''ve always found that the journey matters more than the destination," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I¡¯m more curious about what drew you to life, not what drove you. If that makes any sense." Elijah corrected himself with a smirk on his face as if he was expecting an exciting story.


    A silence lingered between the two groups. The green-haired elf wore a complicated face as he thought about the words, but Ryffka allowed a thoughtful hum to leave his lips as he considered this stranger''s question. The stymph''s shoulders seemed to relax, and the tension seemingly dissipated from his posture as he smoothed a hand over the ruffled feathers on his head.


    "You know, it''s funny," Ryffka began in a nostalgic tone. "When I started practicing magic, I always dreamed of being a famous freelancer mage.¡± He chucked while his eyes wandered up in contemplation. ¡°It was this grand, romantic notion in my head ¨C the idea of being at the top of the game, taking on jobs that no one else could handle."


    He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I imagined being so renowned that my name alone would open any door and make any taskers fight over the chance to contact me.¡± Ryffka grinned as his memory went back to how he used to imagine conjuring castle-shattering spells.


    "And ultimately¡­¡± The stymph¡¯s breath hitched, knowing he was going to let out an embarrassing dream. ¡°I¡¯ve always fantasized about the idea of being a Knower¡­ Of having so much skill and influence that not only the freelancers and taskers alike ate from the palm of my hand, but also the nobility scrabbling to meet my acquaintance in order to make connections to me¡­ That''s the real dream."


    A snort of laughter left Talarions'' mouth as he looked at Ryffka as if he had said something absurd. ¡°You aim to be a Knower?¡± The elf man shifted his body and stared at his friend incredulously. ¡°I knew you had some lofty dreams Ryff, but that¡¯s just downright crazy! You¡¯ll find a far easier time managing to get official peerage!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Tal!¡± Ryffka shoved his partner, causing him to nearly spill his drink.


    Elijah had absolutely no idea what in the hell a ¡®Knower¡¯ was, but he sure as shit wasn¡¯t going to say that aloud. So he nodded in understanding and laughed at their antics as he chimed in with his own two cents. "A Knower, huh?¡± He replied as if Ryiffka had some impressive aspirations. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to agree with your elven friend over here, that¡¯s a crazy dream.¡± Elijah jutted a finger at Ryffka and laughed while the stymph¡¯s feathers pressed against his head in embarrassment.


    After seeing Talarion¡¯s reaction and this new stranger¡¯s comment, Ryffka¡¯s earlier enthusiasm dampened as he visibly deflated. However, a sly smile spread across Elijah¡¯s face as his voice took on a more conspiratorial tone. ¡°But don¡¯t you gotta be crazy to be someone?¡±


    Ryffka''s eyes widened slightly as his head snapped up to look at the weird human. The stymph seemed to perk up and take on a tentative hope. ¡°You really think so?¡± he asked before looking at Talarion, who had his brows furrowed.


    ¡°Well¡­ when you put it like that¡­¡± The sun-elf murmured as he scratched his growing scruff. The stranger had a point¡­ Anyone who was anyone in that world was by default, unhinged or crazy. So it made sense that someone who was crazy enough to chase after such dreams of grandeur was so by definition.


    With a widening grin, Elijah nodded as he saw they were responding well to his bullshit. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s how it goes, right? Those who dares wins!¡± He said, excitedly elbowing both Bennett and Coleman in the side for his stupid little reference.


    Bennett scowled, rubbing his ribs where Elijah''s elbow had made contact. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled, not having to act too much to play the surly teammate.


    Coleman, on the other hand, just gave Elijah a hard, unamused stare. His jaw clenched as he watched his subordinate continue to deviate from what he considered appropriate behavior for their current situation. They were supposed to be undercover, gathering intel in hostile territory, and here was Elijah, not only drawing attention to them but actively recruiting strangers into their fold.


    It went against every instinct the team leader had, every bit of training that had been drilled into him. Maintaining a low profile, minimizing exposure, and sticking to the plan were the cornerstones of a successful operation. And Elijah seemed to be gleefully disregarding all of them.


    But as much as Coleman wanted to pull Elijah aside and chew him out, he knew he couldn''t. Not here, not now. Elijah had already pulled them into this conversation and managed to establish a rapport with these locals. To break character now would only draw more suspicion.


    So Coleman forced a smile, trying his best to play along with the charade. "That''s right," he said, his tone strained despite his efforts to sound casual. "Fortune favors the bold, as they say."


    But even as the words left his mouth, Coleman could feel the tension building in his shoulders, the vein in his temple beginning to throb. He shot Elijah a look that promised a serious discussion later when they were away from prying eyes and ears.


    For his part, Elijah knew exactly how Coleman felt about the situation. He could practically feel the waves of disapproval radiating off his team leader, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.


    And on some level, Elijah understood Coleman''s perspective. The man was a stickler for rules, structure, and procedure. Following the well-established parameters of Special Forces operations gave him a sense of control and a feeling of security in an otherwise chaotic world.


    But what Coleman seemed to be struggling to grasp was the fact that those rules, those tried-and-true methods, no longer applied here. This wasn''t some standard mission in a war-torn country or a covert operation in hostile territory. This was a whole new world, with magic and monsters and societal norms that defied everything they knew.


    In Elijah''s mind, clinging to the old playbook was a surefire way to get them all killed. They needed to adapt, to improvise, to make up the rules as they went along. And that''s exactly what he was doing.


    As far as Elijah was concerned, he was blazing a new trail, writing the guidebook for how to operate in this strange and dangerous land. Every conversation, every new connection, was another piece of the puzzle, another tool in their arsenal. As a matter of fact, he was in his element; Charming and disarming.


    Sure, it was a gamble. Sure, there was always the risk that one of these new ''friends'' could turn on them. Sure, they could expose them to the outsiders they were. But in Elijah''s estimation, the potential rewards far outweighed the risks.


    After all, they were flying blind here. They had no intel, no local support, and no way of knowing who to trust or what dangers lurked around every corner. Building a network and cultivating allies ¨C even unlikely ones ¨C could mean the difference between success and failure, between life and death.


    And so Elijah pressed on, his easy grin and quick wit drawing Ryffka and Talarion further into his orbit. He could feel Coleman''s gaze boring into the side of his head and could practically hear the gears turning as his team leader tried to figure out how to rein him in.


    But just as Elijah was about to continue his charm offensive, he noticed Azeline waving at someone from the other side of the door she standing near. The elven woman had a smile on her face, but there was a hint of tension in her eyes as she beckoned for the person to follow her.


    As the figure emerged from the doorway, Elijah couldn''t help but do a double-take. Walking towards their table was a woman, but not just any woman. She was a striking blend of human and canine features, with light brown hair that framed a pretty face and a pair of long, floppy ears that reminded Elijah of a beagle.


    However, it was her body that really caught his attention. She was a woman who packed on weight in all the right places, with curves that seemed to be the envy of every woman. Her hips swayed with each step, drawing the eye to her ample rear, while her bust strained against the fabric of her dress. It was a figure that was at once seductive and powerful, the kind of body that men would go to war over.


    As she approached, Elijah couldn¡¯t help the way this dog-like woman carried herself. Her steps were assured, her posture was straight, and there was a glint in her eye that spoke of intelligence and cunning. This was a woman who knew her own worth and was used to being in control.


    With his mind analyzing each minute detail of the woman front of him, Elijah took on a noticeable shift in his demeanor as Azeline stepped forward introduce them to this ¡®madam¡¯. "Boys," the elf¡¯s voice carried over the din of the tavern, "I''d like you to meet Mara. She''s the proprietress of this fine establishment."


    Mara smiled with her canine teeth glinting in the light. "Pleasure to meet you, gents!" She greeted the table with a rich purr as her gaze traveled over each face. "Any friend of Azeline''s is a friend of mine!"


    While everyone else remained seated, Elijah rose smoothly with a relaxed but confident posture. "Elijah," he replied, meeting her powerful gaze with his own. "And the pleasure¡¯s all mine. It¡¯s not every day you¡¯re personally welcomed by a stunning businesswoman.¡±


    His compliment was casual, almost offhanded, but his tone showed genuine appreciation. It wasn''t the leering, aggressive kind of flattery that Mara was no doubt used to receiving from patrons. Instead, it was the honest admiration of a man who knew how to appreciate beauty without objectifying it.


    A coy smile spread across Mara''s face. There had been many a man who complimented her for one thing or another, and the man in front of her was no different, even though he wasn¡¯t as crude about it. "Well, aren''t you a charmer," she said, her tail swishing behind her.


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    Elijah grinned as his eyes continued to hold eye contact. "I just call it as I see it," he replied, offering a casual shrug. "But while you are gorgeous, I¡¯m more impressed by the way you run this place."


    He gestured around the tavern, taking in the bustling crowd, the efficient staff, and the general air of controlled chaos. "How you''ve had the rough and tumble wrapped around your finger. How they don¡¯t even raise a voice at your girls¡­ that¡¯s REALLY the thing of beauty here."


    This time, a look of genuine surprise flashed across Mara''s face, and a faint blush colored her cheeks. She glanced at Azeline, who seemed to roll her eyes in a mix of exasperation and amusement.


    But Elijah wasn''t done. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with interest as he continued. "I mean, just look at how you''ve organized this place. Staff are on rotation, with eyes on every corner that are keep a watchful eye without being overbearing. That''s not just good management. That''s an art form."


    Mara''s ears perked up, and her tail swished behind her as she listened. It was rare for anyone, especially a man, to notice the finer details of her operation. Most were too focused on the girls or drinks to bother with anything else. "You''re very observant," Mara replied, her voice taking on a note of respect. Not many people bother to look past the entertainment."


    A touch of mischief floated across his expression as he ran a hand through his wavey hair. "What can I say? I appreciate the finer things in life. And a smoothly run operation is one of them."


    He paused, his head tilting slightly as he considered Mara. "But you know what I appreciate even more? The way you treat your girls. I''ve seen a lot of places like this, and the way the ladies are handled...it''s not always pretty."


    Clearing her throat for a moment, Mara''s face softened as a flicker of something¡ªpride, perhaps, or self-satisfaction¡ªcrossed her features. "My girls are the heart of this place," she stated firmly. They''re not just commodities; they''re people. They deserve respect, safety, and fair treatment."


    Elijah nodded as his eyes closed briefly, and his smile turned gentle. "And that, right there, is what sets you apart. Beauty, brains, and a heart. That''s a rare combination." He explained as he pointed at her, emphasizing each trait he possessed. He then loosened his shoulders and relaxed his posture to be more open. It was a subtle gesture, but it was effective due to Mara''s posture subconsciously mirroring his own. "The way I see it, a person''s character is revealed in how they treat those they have power over. And you, Mara¡­¡± He winked, pointing at her again. ¡°Your character shines quite brightly."


    Mara ducked her head as a bashful giggle escaped her lips. It was a strangely girlish and rare sound that was usually at odds with her confident demeanor, but there was no mistaking that she was pleased by her flushed cheeks.


    "You certainly have a way with words, don''t you, Elijah¡­?¡± The tavern¡¯s Madam finally replied after taking a few seconds to recollect herself. She then turned her attention to the two other humans seated at the table. ¡°And may I ask who your fine associates are?¡±


    Elijah''s eyes widened, and he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Where are my manners?" he exclaimed, a chagrined smile on his face. "Here I am, flirting with a vaunted businesswoman like yourself, and I haven''t even properly introduced my companions!"


    He stood up straighter, extending his hand to introduce his group. "The man with the dark brown hair is Benentt, and the blonde individual is our leader, Coleman.¡±


    "Ma''am," Bennett said, his tone respectful while Coleman gave a curt nod with a more guarded expression. But he still met Mara''s gaze evenly.


    ¡°Well, it''s truly great to meet all of y¡¯all,¡± Mara replied, giving a short bow before turning her attention back to Elijah, a playful smile tugging at her lips. And I must say, I do appreciate your words, Elijah. It''s not often I''m on the receiving end of such eloquent flattery."


    "Alright, alright, that''s enough," Azeline finally interjected. She was sick and tired of this farce and wanted to get the show on the road already. "We''re here on business, remember? You two can flirt later if you want, but right now, I can¡¯t be asked to listen any more of your¡­ drivel.¡± She shot a pointed look at Elijah.


    She then turned to Mara with an apologetic look on her face. "See what I have to deal with? I told you he was a silver-tongued devil."


    A rich but subdued chuckle left Mara¡¯s lips as she half covered her face with her hand. "Oh, I can definitely see," she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. "But I can handle a little devilry, dear Azeline. It keeps things interesting." She gestured for them to follow her, leading them toward a more secluded tavern corner. "But you''re right. We should get down to business. I have a feeling this will be an exciting conversation."


    As the group stood up to follow Mara, Elijah turned around to Ryffka and Talarion with a smile. "Hang around a bit, and I''ll treat you to another drink. We got some business to take care of, okay?"


    The elf and lymph looked at each other momentarily before Talarion nodded with a grin. "I''m not going to say no to a drink,¡±  he replied excitedly, rubbing his hands. especially when it''s free!"


    Elijah knocked his knuckles on the table and pointed at Talarion. "My man!" he said before grabbing a small steamed bun and jogging to catch up with the others. As he joined the group, Elijah scanned the room for Yana until he spotted her diminutive form standing on a table, pointing at a dwarf with a thick brown beard and yapping at him as if she were giving a lecture.


    "Yana!" Elijah yelled out as he jutted his arm above his head, holding up the steamed bun like a trophy.


    The fairy''s tiny head snapped towards him with an angry snarl before her eyes sparkled in recognition. Like a rocket, she took off for the man and snatched the bun out of his hand.


    As Yana settled on his shoulder and eventually his hood when Elijah ushered her inside, the man peered around to see if any in the tavern caught the scene. It was evident that almost everyone had as they stared at him curiously before scoffing nonchalantly and returning to their own business.


    A problematic look floated across Elijah''s face as he gauged everyone¡¯s reaction. He expected hushed murmurs or¡­ well, any response other than dismissal. But it seemed that while Yana was an oddity, she wasn''t entirely out of the realm of possibility here.


    Returning his attention to the group, Elijah slipped through the employee doorway and into the back room of the tavern, where the employees were bustling about. The medic took in the kitchen and couldn¡¯t help but marvel at its similarities with his home. There was definitely a magical twist to it as fires jutted out of strange, glowing magical stoves while line cooks ran to and fro, cooking up a storm. Meanwhile, the male and female courtesans grabbed plates to serve customers or took turns in front of a mirror, sprucing themselves up.


    The back rooms were most definitely a hive of activity and seemed to mirror the hectic and festive atmosphere of the dining hall. Here, the air was filled with the sizzle of cooking food, the clatter of dishes, and the constant chatter of the staff as they went about their duties.


    But Elijah¡¯s eyes couldn¡¯t help but wander towards the courtesans that primped and preened, adjusting their dresses and touching up their makeup. They were a striking bunch, each one as enticing as the last, with a variety of races and features represented.


    There were even some of those Enaeris girls with long, flowing manes and delicate features, their curved horns adorned with glittering jewels. There were Beastkin girls with soft, furry ears and tails of every type as they playfully bantered. But the bulk of not just the courtesans but the staff, in general, was made up of humans or sun-elves as they giggled and practiced seductive poses.


    Shaking his head, Elijah dismissed his lust and followed the group through the bustling back room and into Mara¡¯s small, private office. She stood by the door and ushered them inside before closing the door behind them and effectively cutting off the noise and activity of the kitchen.


    The office itself was surprisingly cozy, with plush chairs arranged around a low table and tasteful decorative textiles on the walls. Mara then gestured for them to sit while taking her own place behind a small desk lined with magical instruments that seemed to be used for counting coins and booking.


    "Now then," she sighed, transitioning to a more business-oriented posture and tone. "Let''s talk about why you''re really here."


    Mara leaned back in her chair, throwing one leg over the other as she gently crossed her arms. The Beastkin woman¡¯s expression was one of mild skepticism while her eyes narrowed slightly at the group. "You see¡­ here''s the thing," she began in a measured voice. "I haven''t received any notice to shelter you. No instructions, no details, no payment¡­¡± She Mara hummed as she eyed each and every face. ¡°And it¡¯s especially¡­ unsettling when it''s supposedly coming from Indi, Einhar, or whichever of Kjadnar¡¯s lieutenants decided to stick their nose into my neck of the woods."


    A soft chuckle left her mouth as her gaze seemed to bore a hole into Azeline. "I''ve got to say, it''s a bit... suspect. Usually, when there''s work to be done, I get some kind of heads-up. A little something to let me know what''s what."


    Azeline started to stammer, and a panicked look crossed her face when she realized she''d been caught in a lie. "W-well, you see..." she began with faltering words. "I-It''s not exactly a typical job, per se..." It was clear that Azeline, for all her physical might and street smarts, was not the most eloquent speaker under pressure. Her usual confidence seemed to have deserted her and left her floundering for an explanation.


    The suspicion seemed to mount as Mara frowned and started tapping her arm rhythmically. "Now, out of respect for our friendship, Azeline, and..." She paused, her eyes lingering on Elijah as a coy smile played on her lips. "...the rather favorable first impression your friend has made, I''m more than willing to adhere to the non-disclosure agreement that comes with your usual business."


    Her expression then turned serious. "But if you''re here for personal reasons¡­ then I''m afraid I will have to turn you away. I''m barely able to keep my establishment open with that Imperial bastard constantly raising operating costs on us. Bringing more attention would be... untenable."


    Like a cat having caught her tongue, Azeline seemed to deflate as she struggled to respond.  Her eyes flickered to Elijah in a plea for help, and ever the smooth operator, Elijah let out a relaxed chuckle and stepped in to rescue the situation.


    "That, Mara, is exactly the problem we''re here to solve," he interjected, leaning forward with a confident smile. "We''re specialists, you see. And these¡­ Imperials have been hampering operations for far more than yourself.¡± He added, understanding that the best lies were shrouded in truth. ¡°Our task is to remove these¡­ troublesome elements to ease business and operations for more than just you, Indi, or whoever else."


    He reached into the pouch at his side, the same one he had filled with coins from the burned-out village. With a flourish, he pulled out a strange, glowing gold coin and held it up, letting it catch the light.


    "There''s a substantial reward for resolving this issue," Elijah smiled at Mara as he deftly maneuvered the coin between his fingers. "And of course, we have your payment as well¡­ But I feel as if a new set of terms are in order, and we¡¯re not beyond negotiations.¡± He smiled smugly when he saw Mara¡¯s eyes widen


    The way he spoke and the casual confidence in his tone implied that Elijah held all the cards and that he was dictating this arrangement''s terms. But in truth, Elijah was flying blind. He had no concept of the coin''s actual worth, no understanding of its place in this world''s commerce and magic.


    But it seemed that the calculated bluff seemed to pay off as Mara''s breath hitched and her eyes locked onto the ethereal coin dancing between Elijah''s deft fingers. Her posture tensed, and a flicker of recognition, tinged with a hint of avarice, flashed across her features. "Is that a soul coin¡­?" she whispered with a voice full of hunger. But before she could finish her thought, she caught herself, clearing her throat with a deliberate "ahem."


    Narrowing her eyes at Elijah, Mara''s expression shifted to one of calculated intrigue. "You''re a bold one, aren''t you?" she said, her tone a blend of admiration and caution. "Usually, I have a fixed price for my services, a standard fee that applies to all... even to those in Indi''s employ."


    She leaned back in her chair, her ears twitching as she appraised Elijah with a newfound interest. "But... given the sensitive nature of dealing with the Imperials in this town, I would normally reject any offer outright, no matter the amount."


    "However..." Mara purred as her gaze drifted back to the glowing coin, and a hungry glint entered her eyes. "Since¡­ I find you enjoyable, and you come bearing such... intriguing currency... I might be open to negotiation."


    Elijah''s grin widened as he saw the glimmer of interest in Mara''s eyes. He had her right where he wanted her. "Thirty percent," he gave a high ball percentage with a casual tone and an intense gaze.


    Mara''s eyes widened, and she let out an audible gasp. Her body tensed, and for a moment, it seemed as if she immediately accepted. But then Mara paused as her expression smoothed, and her posture relaxed into one of careful nonchalance. "Thirty percent, you say?" she purred, her voice a silken caress. "That''s quite a generous offer.¡±


    She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table in a way to emphasize her cleavage and her chin cradled in her hands. "But accepting such an offer with nothing in return would more than surely spoil any future business you would provide." Mara¡¯s look and smile indicated she was¡­ VERY interested in Elijah. ¡°I¡¯ll accept your terms, and in return¡­ I''ll ensure that your stay here is not just productive, but¡­¡±


    The dog-like woman paused as she bit her low lip. ¡°VERY amicable¡­¡±

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 79

    Duchess Vyrrasha stood in the center of this castle''s throne room with her eyes fixed on the small pile of severed heads at her feet. With a look of utter disdain, she tossed another onto the small grisly mound as the lifeless eyes of the once-proud noble stared up at her in mute accusation.


    The Dragonkin noblewoman''s feathers bristled with barely contained rage as she turned to face Tharivol, her Dark Elf spymaster. "Have the rest fallen in line?" she demanded in a low, menacing growl. "I will not tolerate any dissent, not now, not when so much hangs in the balance."


    Ever the picture of calm composure, Tharivol inclined his head in a respectful bow. "Your Grace," he began in a measured and even tone, "the vast majority have indeed capitulated to your demands. The display of... decisive action against Count Harmswid and his ilk has sent a powerful message."


    Vyrrasha''s sneer deepened, her eyes narrowing to slits of barely contained fury. ¡°So they have chosen to bend the knee? Are there any that are foolish enough to harbor thoughts of defiance?"


    Tharivol''s expression remained impassive, but there was a glint of something dark in his eyes, a hint of the ruthless efficiency that had made him such a valuable asset to the Duchess. "A few harbor resentment¡­ But I shall see they never come to fruition, Your Grace. My agents have eyes and ears everywhere."


    The Duchess''s tail lashed behind her as a physical manifestation of her simmering anger. "See that they are, Tharivol. I want not a shred of disobedience among the lords and ladies. If any dare to defy me, you know what must be done."


    Bowing his head once more, Tharivol gave a solemn vow. "It will be as you command, Your Grace. Any who stand against you will be made to see the error of their ways... or they will be removed, root and stem."


    Vyrrasha huffed, a plume of angry fire jetting from her nostrils as she turned away, her ornate cloak fluttering in the air with the abruptness of her movement. She stalked across the room, her eyes darting from one side to another, from advisor to attendant, as if daring any of them to voice even a hint of protest.


    But none did. They stood silent and still with their gazes averted and their postures subservient. They knew, all too well, the price of drawing their mistress''s ire.


    With a flick of Vyrrasha''s wrist and a snap of her finger and summoned Anke Ans Sestri to her side. The first to approach was the pale-skinned, blonde-haired High Elven man who stepped forward with his long and droopy 12-inch ears. His delicate features remained impassive as he fell in step and cleared his throat.


    Just behind him, Sestri, the Tauri commander, limped to her mistress¡¯ other side. The Duchess''s eyes immediately snapped to Sestri, taking in her uneven gait and the tension in her posture. "How have you been dealing with these incursions?" Vyrrasha demanded in a low, menacing rumble. ¡°How fare my dragons and wyverns?¡±


    Sestri flinched at the question. Fear was evident in her eyes as she carefully considered her response. "Y-Your Grace," she began with a trembling voice, "we¡¯ve implemented new tactics to combat the raiders b-by staging dragons and wyverns in the forests near known problem areas and potential targets."


    She swallowed hard, her tail twitching nervously behind her. "At worst, we''ve managed to scare off a few raids. At best, we''ve wiped out a band or two. But... these otherworlders, they travel in small packs, and their coordination is uncanny.¡± Sestri¡¯s voice then became quiet as she looked down nervously ¡°They seem to communicate in ways that are alien to us, and it''s proving¡­ problematic."


    Vyrrasha''s eyes narrowed, and her feathers bristled with growing anger. "That is indeed worrying¡­ but how fare my dragons and wyverns?" She repeated herself slowly as she glared at the trembling Sestri.


    Hesitation seemed to overcome the Tauri as her eyes started to swim wildly, and her shoulders hunched as if to ward off a blow. "They... they have weapons, Your Grace. Strange, magical devices a-and¡­ And they¡¯re proving deadly¡­"


    Another silence came over the throne room before the Duchess''s tail lashed like a crack of the whip, chipping the floor. "You fool!" she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. "Why not simply fly high, out of reach of their weapons!? You have command of the very skies, do you not!?"


    Sestri seemed to shrink under Vyrrasha''s verbal onslaught as the Tauri¡¯s body language screamed submission. "We... we tried, Your Grace! But if they fly anywhere higher than a few hundred meters, then spears from unseen places hurtle through the sky, felling our anything and everything before we even know they''re there!"


    She shuddered, her voice dropping to a haunted whisper. "T-the dragons also describe something like an all-seeing eye that stabs at their hides¡­¡± Sestri threw up her hands infront of herself and started backing up while Vyrrasha slowly approached. ¡°It¡¯s omnipotent and everywhere, and only when its too late do the dragons know which of them is being targeted!¡±


    Vyrrasha''s face contorted with rage, the claws of her feet digging into the stone floors as she hissed and snapped her head away. ¡°Foul things! Of course, that wasn¡¯t exaggerated as well!!¡± She snarled before slamming her hand into her face. She had read those reports and didn¡¯t want to believe it. The very idea that these otherworlders possessed a spear capable of homing in on their aerial force and slamming into them at speed unheard of was galling. It struck at the very heart of her military might, the core of her strategic advantage.


    ¡°Those things must be operating on the edge of the periphery, near the rift itself,¡± Sestri added after finally putting her hands down once she realized her liege¡¯s anger was no longer oriented towards her. ¡°And when our dragons venture close, they feel the gaze of an innumerable amount of more focused eyes upon them before meeting a barrage of these... these spears."


    A sigh left Vyrrasha¡¯s mouth as she stood there for a while. If this were the case, then she had to assume the worst-case scenario: they¡¯d lose air superiority, and it fast. The only advantage she could possibly conceive of was now going to be used against her, and if she didn¡¯t err on the side of caution, then her most mighty assets would be lost before even putting up a fight.


    Turning to Anke, Vyrrasha looked at him with exhausted eyes. "Tell me you have something," she beckoned with a voice that said she was on the edge of insanity. "Tell me any SEMBLANCE of good news¡­."


    When he stepped forward, Anke¡¯s expression remained cool and emotionless. "Your Grace," he began bowing deeply and speaking in a steadfast and even tone. ¡°I do indeed have good news. The mages you have placed under my command are already in the process of learning the fundamentals of illusion magic, while those who already possess such knowledge are being taught to amplify their abilities with the strengths of others."


    Vyrrasha''s eyes relaxed as a flicker of hope sparked in their depths. But it was quickly tempered as her tail lashed behind her. "At least something isn''t going straight to the infinite hells," she grumbled, shooting her hand up to rub at her snout in an attempt to dispel the pounding headache that threatened to split her skull. She began to walk again with Sestri, Anke, and an entourage of guards following close behind. Her guards spread out to form a protective barrier around their Duchess, scanning for any sign of an assassin after her display of authority over the Nobles of the Empire.


    For a long moment, Vyrrasha was silent, her eyes closed as she walked, lost in thought. Her mind kept wandering back to the partly allotment of dragons and wyverns Varian had oh so gracious bestowed upon her. She would make good use of them, of course, but the bulk of her forces still came from her own house. Vyrrsha couldn¡¯t help but thank the heavens she had the wisdom and foresight to realize those conniving bastards that belonged to the royal family were going to try to screw her over.


    But still¡­ the possibility of losing air superiority greatly disturbed her.


    Finally, the Duchess spoke with a voice heavy with weariness and worry. "The leaders of this ''great'' Empire have ordained that I die here¡­¡± She said with disdain in her voice. ¡°I bet they thought I was a fool just like they are and would consider this report of what they encountered on the other side and what they managed to learn from captured enemy soldiers and equipment."


    She shook her head, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips. "At first, I thought they were, but no force capable of making a celestial and an elder horde of dragons run with its tail between its legs should be taken lightly¡­¡± Vyrrsha¡¯s monologue causes a few guards to send a worried glance toward their mistresses before returning to their vigil. ¡°Tell me, Anke, should I also believe those otherworld prisoner''s words of flying contraptions that fly higher than any of even the skyborne?¡±


    The question seemed to catch her subordinate by surprise as she turned to face him with a grim expression. ¡°What of the fanciful tales of eyes in the void itself? Ever watching and ever listening?¡±


    Anke thought the question rhetorical for a moment, but the Duchess''s eyes remained fixated on him, expecting an answer. ¡°Ahem¡­¡± The high-elven man cleared his throat. ¡°It is not my place to dictate any strategy to one as great as yourself, mistress¡­¡± He said, seeing the irritation grow on his mistress''s face, and immediately followed up with, ¡°However¡­ I would deem it¡­ ill-advised to ignore these rumors, regardless of how far-fetched¡­¡±


    A fiery snort left Vyrrashas nostrils as she flipped around and started walking again. ¡°Then I shall take it as fact.¡± She declared as her brain started to turn. ¡°We must assume those¡­ THINGS are capable of gathering intelligence and acting on it in near real-time, a feat I''ve only seen matched by the druids under the cover of their accursed forest.¡±


    Vyrrasha''s claws clenched, digging into her scales and threatening to pierce it. "Intelligence and actionable intelligence will be the driving factors in this war. And as it stands, I put our chances of success at very low.¡± She started in a dark tone as her head bowed. ¡°But we have little choice."


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    She straightened, her posture to be more regal and determined even as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. "We must adapt, and we must do so quickly. These otherworlders, they operate in ways we''ve never encountered. Their tactics, their weapons, their very way of thinking - it''s all alien to us."


    As Vyrrasha retreated into her thoughts, she and her entourage finally found themselves on the balcony overlooking the sprawling city below. The sight was breathtaking as a sea of glowing, and sometimes even floating buildings stretched out to the horizon where it met the glittering expanse of the ocean. But as Vyrrasha turned her head, her gaze was drawn to the other direction, to the vast forests that bordered the city.


    And it was there, staring out at those ancient trees, that a thought struck her. A realization that cut through her frustration and worry like a beam of clarity. "Sestri," The Duchess narrowed her eyes as her voice suddenly became calm and even. "Your methods for deterring these raider¡¯s attacks... Keep it up.¡± She said, snapping her head towards her.


    Sestri looked up, surprised, and a flicker of pride in her eyes. "Your Grace?"


    ¡°It seems you are the only one holding the wolves at bay¡­¡± Vyrrasha replied quietly before turning to her guard captain. "I am recalling the dragons and wyverns from everyone except Sestri''s command. Have them regroup and prepare for new orders."


    The guard captain bowed deeply and his feathered helmet nearly touched the ground. "As you command, Your Grace." He responded before quickly marking within the castle.


    The Duchess then turned back to Sestri, fixing the Tauri with an intense stare. "You¡¯re doing good work, Commander. Keep on with your mission and do your best to keep these menaces at bay." Vyrrasha ordered before jerking her head towards the Castle. ¡°Now, go!


    Sestri bowed deeply, her tail curling behind her in a gesture of respect. "I will not fail you, Your Grace!" She replied while running off to carry out her Duchess¡¯s order, albeit with a limp.


    Once the Tauri disappeared into the confines of the citadel, Vyrrasha turned to Anke as her mind raced with the beginnings of a plan. "We must use our magic to counter their alien advantages," she declared, crossing her arms and looking back out towards the forest. ¡°Across the entirety of the savage lands want a cold mist deployed, thick enough to prevent their eyes in the sky from penetrating, from seeing any figure and even the heat of our forces."


    Anke nodded as his expression became thoughtful. "A simple enough task, Your Grace. Our mages can maintain such a mist indefinitely."


    "Good," Vyrrasha said, her tail flicking behind her. "But that''s just the start. In the very forests, I want dragons and wyverns stationed everywhere and hidden away. They will serve as our reaction force, intercepting any flying threats that dare to venture into our airspace."


    Vyrrasha began to hum in interest, her mind whirling with possibilities. ¡°We will need to refine this further¡­ There may be a possibility of utilizing illusions for this as well.¡± She pointed at Anke as she paced back and forth "Maybe when they react to any intrusion¡­ they could manifest a horde of illusions¡­"


    An even look remained on Anke¡¯s face as his eyes followed the Duchess. "A brilliant strategy, Your Grace."


    ¡°We¡¯ll also need to worry about these¡­ high flying contraptions¡­¡± The dragonkin grumbled as she turned back to the balcony, her gaze sweeping over the city, only to see the beams of light from the entertainment district and the projections of the merchant district.


    Suddenly, Vyrrasha clapped her hands together, her eyes widening with a sudden burst of inspiration. "Magic Missile!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with excitement and determination.


    Anke blinked, taken aback by the Duchess''s outburst. "Your Grace?" he asked, confusion and curiosity warring in his tone.


    Vyrrasha spun to face him, her features alight with the fire of newfound purpose. "The younger dragons, Anke. We''ll pull them back, station them in the skies above our forces."


    Trying to follow the Duchess''s train of thought, the high-elf¡¯s brow furrowed in trepidation. This was his realm of expertise and he had read those reports himself. If these otherworlders indeed possess the ability to go so high, some mage casting a magic missile on the back of a dragon would be impossible.


    However, he decided to humor the woman lest she take her ire out on him. "And when they spot something?" he asked in a cautious tone.


    The Duchess snorted plumes of lames out of her nostrils as wore an almost feral glint in her eye. "That''s where the mages come in. We''ll assign them in teams of twenty, linked to each dragon through the Leporinae Mystics." She gestured wildly as if her hands painted a picture of the strategy unfolding in her mind. "When a dragon spots a target, the mages will focus their power and launch a concentrated magic missile!¡±


    ¡°That would be guided¡­ by the dragon¡­¡± Anke said slowly as his eyes widened and comprehension dawned. It was an absolutely ridiculous and unwieldy solution to an equally ridiculous problem¡­ but it was still a tenable solution. ¡°Guided magic missiles," he breathed as awe and appreciation colored his words. "Shamanistically linked and dragon-directed guided magic missiles."


    As Anke contemplated the Duchess''s proposed strategy, a glimmer of hope bloomed within Vyrrasha''s heart. She wasn''t entirely convinced that they would emerge victorious from this conflict, but the idea of a stalemate, or at least delaying her demise, suddenly seemed within reach.


    While Vyrrasha''s mind raced with possibilities, Anke remained standing before her, his own thoughts whirling with the intricacies and implications of such a complex system of magic and linked casters. It would require extensive testing, refinement, and coordination, but it was a start.


    Calming down her excitement, Vyrrasha turned to him and her other aides and continued to lay the groundwork for their new strategy and directives. "The smaller dragons will serve as our early warning system," she declared, her voice ringing with authority. "They will scan the heavens, high and low, providing us with the intelligence we need to respond to any aerial threats."


    She then turned her attention to one of her advisors, who had been waiting patiently while his mistress spoke to the high elf. The general was a human named Maldro, and as Vyrrasha''s focus shifted to him, he straightened up to make himself seem more presentable.


    "Maldro," Vyrrasha began in a serious but hesitant tone. Her expertise wasn¡¯t in the realm of ground warfare, and she needed the specialist knowledge of the man who had tamed the Tauri in the first place. ¡°We need to develop a strategy for bogging down the otherworldly forces on the ground. A way to slow their advance, to bleed them as much as we can before they can reach our citadels and strongholds."


    The general stroked his long gray beard while his mind raced with possibilities. The parameters his mistress gave him weren¡¯t ideal, but if the goal wasn¡¯t an outright victory but to bog down the enemy as much as possible¡­ then he believed there were a few pages he could take from races he helped subjugate. "We could start digging tunnels and constructing fortifications between the forest lines, Your Grace," he answered finally after a few long seconds of silence. "We allow the otherworldly forces to advance uninterrupted, avoid open battles, and draw them into chokepoints and critical junctions using inferior forces."


    Considering the proposal, Vyrrasha''s eyes narrowed. She wasn¡¯t keen on sacrificing resources in such an unsustaining way, but she felt her general was on to something. "Go on," she prompted, her tail flicking behind her.


    With hands gesturing confidently, Maldro continued his proposal as he stepped towards the balcony facing the forests and pointed towards the treeline. "Our superior forces could use the tunnels and forests to maneuver unseen, popping out to attack the enemy''s flanks and rear before melting back into cover. We hit them hard and fast, then disappear before they can mount an effective response."


    Vyrrasha pondered Maldro''s proposal, her mind raced with the implications and potential drawbacks of such a strategy. It was a plan that lacked honor and was unnecessarily wasteful, a far cry from the military doctrine of overwhelming force that the Empire used for centuries. But these were desperate times, and desperate measures were called for. The very survival of their way of life hung in the balance, and Vyrrasha knew that clinging to old notions of honor and integrity would only lead to their doom.


    Still, a pang of regret shot through her, accompanied by a hiss of self-contempt. She had told Tharivol to disregard the levy men and focus solely on the mana users and mages. But now, faced with the grim realities of the war ahead, she realized the folly of that decision.


    They were going to need every able body, every mundane soul, to stand against the otherworldly tide. For all their lack of magical prowess, the masses could still serve as a bulwark, a way to absorb the enemy''s blows and buy precious time for their more skilled forces to strike.


    Shaking her head, Vyrrasha pressed her hands to her face, her claws digging into her scales. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a concession to the harsh necessities of their situation. But there was no other choice.


    "Maldro," she said, her voice heavy with resignation, "see to it that we have sufficient bodies to blunt the main advance. Conscript them into the auxiliaries, give them what training and equipment we can spare."


    The general bowed low, his fist clenched over his heart. "As you command, Your Grace. But¡­¡± Maldro lifted himself and hesitated as concern crossed his face. "Your Grace, for this strategy to work, our forces will need to be incredibly coordinated. Lines will need to fall back as one, and our troops will need to know exactly when to pull back and when to stand and fight."


    "I am aware, General. And I have a solution." The Duchess replied and waved her hand dismissively. "I will use everything, including my personal wealth to get what we need and finance this strategy.¡± She said, looking at every face. ¡°We shall get every diviner, any communication tools the artificers can mass-produce to ensure that every field commander, down to the lowest ranks, can receive and relay orders.¡±


    Silence reigned on the balcony as the aides and advisors present lowered their heads in a mix of respect and trepidation. The fact that their liege would dip into her own coffers highlighted how worried she was about the situation and the enormity of the task they were to undertake.


    Vyrrasha surveyed the room, her gaze fierce and unyielding. "Go," she commanded, her voice ringing with authority. "Do not waste time. Every second counts."


    In unison, the assembled officials bowed low, their fists clenched over their hearts. "Your will shall be done," they intoned, their voices a solemn chorus.


    With that, they departed. Each aide and advisor hurried into the castle''s depths to begin the monumental work ahead. Messengers were dispatched, orders were given, and the great machinations of the Empire''s war effort began to grind into motion.


    Alone on the balcony, Vyrrasha turned her gaze northward toward the endless sea of buildings and forests stretching to the horizon, where the empire resided. A scowl twisted her features, and hatred filled her heart.


    And she knew, with a certainty that burned in her gut, that the insipid general Korthax and that filthy wretched of an Emperor were watching her every move. She was no fool. Vyrrasha knew they were analyzing her strategies, weighing her decisions, and looking for any insight into how to deal with the threat they themselves had brought to this realm.


    They were using her, she realized with a snarl. Using her as a test subject, a guinea pig to try out their own twisted schemes. They would watch her struggle, watch her fight and bleed and die, all the while taking notes and poaching her best ideas.


    Just as they had done with the Tauri.


    "Damn you both to the infinite hells," Vyrrasha hissed, her claws digging into the balcony railing. "This world would have been a far better place if those two had been stillborn."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 80

    Toivonen was the very definition of overworked as she sat in her chair, surrounded by a sea of papers, blinking monitors displaying an innumerable number of emails, and her incessantly vibrating phone indicating yet another incoming call.


    The sensory overload was almost unbearable, and she let out a groan of frustration before snatching the incessant device and seeing it was one of her aides. ¡°What!? What is now!?¡± she barked into the receiver while her free hand massaged her temples.


    But as the aide continued their report, Toivonen¡¯s scowl shifted from one of annoyance to outright pain. She smothered her face with her free hand, trying to contain the frustration that threatened to boil over. "Yes, yes, yes! I understand the offensive is imminent," she ground out through gritted teeth. "But we¡¯re still working on getting assets into play!"


    There was a pause as the voice on the other end of the line spoke, and Toivonen''s eyes rolled back in exasperation. She let out an exaggerated "Ugh!" before yanking the tie that held her hair in place, allowing her dark locks to cascade down her shoulders. "Well, they need to wait!" she snapped, her patience wearing thinner by the second. "We don''t know what we''re facing on the other side of the rift besides what the POWs and cooperating informants have told us, and their perspectives are so skewed that they might as well be useless!"


    Toivonen swiveled in her chair, facing the stack of reports piled high on her desk. With a grumble, she started opening folders and tossing them aside one by one, her eyes scanning the pages with growing frustration.


    Ever since Yzael''s meetings with the engineers and scientists, leadership has been obsessed with this counter-offensive. ¡°Greedy fucks¡­¡± she muttered to herself with a tone dripping with disdain. "Find a few new resources and all of sudden, everyone¡¯s full of fucking bloodlust."


    The voice on the phone continued to speak, and Toivonen threw her hands up in a gesture of utter exasperation. She let them fall, slapping her leg in the process. "Well, my paramilitary officers have only managed to make headway with the local peasantry!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word. "What am I supposed to do with a bunch of farmers!? Start a goddamn pitchfork uprising that''ll get torched by one of those flying dinosaurs!?"


    She leaned back in her chair, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. "If we go in now, we''ll essentially be going in deaf, dumb, and blind!¡± She barked into the phone. ¡°We need to understand at least what the enemy is capable of and get a grasp on their overall strategy! We don''t even have a faint idea of what their force structure is!"


    Toivonen''s free hand rubbed at her eyes, trying to ease the pressure that was starting to build up in her head. She was tired, frustrated, and more than a little bit scared. She juggled so many projects with so much at stake that she experienced sensory overload every waking moment. To top it all off, the entire world was on the precipice of something so monumental it would change human history forever.


    And yet, the idiots in Congress wanted to stumble forward with barely a clue of what lay ahead.


    "Listen," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "I know those fossils in legislator and brass is chomping at the bit to get this show on the road. But rushing in without proper intel, without a solid plan, is incredibly stupid." She straightened in her seat while pointing intently at nothing in particular. "I need more time. We have to get this right, or we''re going to have another Iraq or Afghanistan."


    The voice on the other end of the line spoke again, causing Toivonen to slap herself in the face. She knew she was asking for the impossible, and she knew that the gears of war were already turning, with or without her blessing. But she still had to delay this push for as long as she could until they could get some semblance of an idea of who they were fighting.


    "I don''t know, just find a way to stall it!" she screamed, throwing her free hand up in frustrated desperation. "A month! I just need a month, or as close to a month as you can get!"


    There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Toivonen could hear the muffled grumblings of dissent. For a moment, she thought they might actually refuse and that her plea would fall on deaf ears. But then, like a ray of hope piercing through the clouds, she heard the magic words.


    "Thank God," she breathed, falling backward into her chair as the aide on the other line yelled obscenities at her. "I know! I know! Thank you for at least try¨C"


    But before she could finish, the line went dead, and the angry huff of her aide was the last thing she heard before the call disconnected. However, Toivonen didn''t mind that in the slightest. They could toss her out of the window in anger for all she cared. All that mattered was that someone was going to fight to get her the time she so desperately needed.


    A small breath of relief left Toivonen''s mouth as she set her phone down and bowed her head in exhaustion. "Christ, have mercy," she muttered weakly.


    Everything in the past 6 or 7 months had been overwhelming to a degree that she could have sworn she aged 20 years. By being in the right place at the right time and saying the right thing, Toivonen was promoted to an executive position within the agency.


    While her ascension was unusual for someone her age, it was wholly unfeasible or even uncalled for, given the context. Her role in turning Yzael into an asset that would work with the United States, along with her management of an enemy combatant turned operative, propelled her into the limelight. These facts made Toivonen the only reason choice for the position of Chief of Rift Anomalies and Operations.


    But with her rapid ascension into power came significant backlash. Tension simmered between her and the other executives in the agency, many of whom questioned her lack of experience and seniority. This scrutiny often placed her in difficult and awkward situations, forcing her to prove her worth constantly. She struggled with the challenges her inexperience brought, sometimes nearly proving her detractors right. However, she always found a way to succeed and even excel, whether through sheer luck or unconventional methods.


    Nevertheless, the pressure and stress was talking its toll as Toivonen bent down, slipped off her designer high-heeled stilettos, and tossed them across the room. The woman didn¡¯t even bother to look where she threw them or checkw where they landed as the shoes clattered against the wall.


    For five whole minutes, Toivonen just sat there hanging her head, allowing her hair to block out the oppressive, clinical white light above. Those five quiet minutes were a depressing but much needed reprieve from the chaos that constantly surrounded her. But she knew she couldn''t afford to stay like this, no matter how badly she wanted to call her boss and tell him she was taking a vacation There was too much at stake and too much work to be done.


    With a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul, Toivonen raised herself up and dove back into the fray. She had a mountain of paperwork to get through before heading off to Quantico for yet another damn meeting.


    As she reached for the first stack of reports, a particular folder caught her eye. It was from Yzael''s quite sizable mountain with each document detailing her involvement with the defense contractors, universities or governmental departments. Toivonen''s brow furrowed as she grabbed the Department of Energy document and began scanning.


    With each passing paragraph, Toivonen¡¯s eyes started to twitch, and her head started to spin from the incomprehensible ¡®nerd¡¯ speech. But she couldn¡¯t deny that whatever they were talking about in this report was one of the man culprits who had whipped the government into a psychotic frenzy.


    According to the report, Yzael had been working closely with DOE scientists and engineers, sharing her knowledge of magical principles and helping them integrate these concepts into existing energy frameworks. Mana Crystals, Ley Lines, and Elemental Cores were just a few of the detailed resources, and each one promised a different revolution in energy production and efficiency.


    However, the proposed "Advanced Theoretical Frameworks and Practical Implementations for Alternative Energy Generation and Manipulation: Insights Derived from Interdimensional Sources" really caught Toivonen''s attention. Grounded in principles of equivalence, consent, and reciprocity, it delved into a framework for harnessing magic by utilizing the principles it seemed to operate by.


    As Toivonen delved into the report, her eyes widened unevenly in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. The language was dense, filled with technical jargon and complex equations that supposedly blended the arcane with the scientific.


    Not that Toivonen could decipher either if she was honest with herself.


    Opening a random page, Toivonen started reading aloud in a hesitant and perplexed voice, thinking that vocalizing the report would give her a modicum of understanding. "The fundamental principle of magical energy manipulation, as demonstrated by the Consultant, revolves around the concept of ''Mana Weaving.'' This process involves precisely manipulating previously unobserved ambient particles, which interact with matter and energy to create localized disturbances in the fabric of reality."


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    Toivonen''s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the words. "Through a series of intricate gestures and specific chanting to enhance mental focus, the practitioner can ''weave'' these particles into complex patterns, which then manifest as tangible effects in the physical world. The most basic of these effects, as demonstrated by the Consultant, is the creation of a small, self-sustaining luminous orb, colloquially referred to as a ''Light Spell.''"


    She squinted at the page, her eyes straining to follow the complex diagrams and notations accompanying the text. "The creation of this ''Light Spell'' involves a three-stage process. First, the practitioner must gather ambient particles into a localized area, creating a higenergy density. This is achieved through a combination of gestures, spoken chants, or deep concentration. Each one conjures a complex series of images in one''s mind¡¯s eye."


    "Next," she continued, her voice growing more strained, "the practitioner must use their mind''s eye to ''shape'' this gathered energy into a stable form. This is done by visualizing, in great detail, the desired outcome (in this case, a luminous orb) and using further gestures to help stabilize and mold the mana particles into that shape. The final stage involves ''activating'' the shaped mana, which is achieved through a specific mental command and a small influx of the practitioner''s own bodily energy reserves."


    At this point, Toivonen couldn''t take it anymore. She stopped reading and threw her hands up in exasperation. "God damn nerds," she muttered, tossing the report aside. She reached for the next folder on her desk, hoping for something more comprehensible. But as she flipped it open, she was greeted by a similar wall of jargon and complex diagrams.


    "Department of Agriculture," she read aloud in an unamused and flat tone. "Potential Applications of Alien Flora in Crop Enhancement and Pest Control."


    With a groan, she tossed that one aside as well. The next folder was from the Department of Health, detailing the possible medical uses of magical herbs and potions. Then came reports from the Department of Defense, the Environmental Protection Agency, and even the Federal Aviation Administration.


    Toivonen stopped a third way through the stack of documents and piled it back onto her desk. The exhausted woman couldn¡¯t help but glare at the reports. The sheer scope and potential impact of these discoveries were staggering, and it was no surprise that every corner of the government was clamoring to be involved.


    The decision to move through the rift had been overwhelming and bipartisan, save for a few contrarian extremists voting no. However, there was a near-universal agreement amongst the entire government that this was a golden opportunity for the United States.


    And why wouldn''t there be? The applications of magic, or "previously unobserved ambient particles," as the scientists insisted on calling them, were seemingly limitless. It could revolutionize energy, agriculture, healthcare, defense, hell, and even the entertainment industry. Every facet of society would be drastically changed by this magical revolution, and the United States of America would be at the epicenter of it all. They would have an ironclad monopoly on the most transformative technology since the advent of the computer.


    But as exciting as the thought of a gilded age for America and its allies was, Toivonen couldn''t shake the sense of unease that gnawed at her gut. She wasn''t worried about the invasion itself. No, that would be messy regardless of whether she could get people on the inside or not. What really kept her up at night was what came after the fighting.


    Another Global War on Terror was absolutely not an option. They couldn''t afford to blunder into this new world half-cocked, guns blazing, and hopes high. They needed to understand the people they were dealing with. They needed to understand their culture, their values, and the very fabric of their society. Without that knowledge, without that deep, nuanced understanding, they risked making the same mistakes they had made time and time again. Imposing their will and their way of life on a population they didn''t comprehend and, in return, reap a whirlwind of resentment and resistance that would inevitably follow.


    No, they needed to infiltrate their society, and they needed it fast.


    With a renewed sense of urgency, Toivonen rolled her chair towards her computer and started scrolling through the reports from the veritable horde of Special Operations Forces and her paramilitary officers. Toivonen¡¯s eyes scanned her screen while murmuring under her breath. she searched for any glimmer of good news, any sign of progress.


    "Contact was made with local farmers. Initial negotiations are promising. There is potential for further infiltration." She uttered while in the search for any glimmer of good news. "Observations of village hierarchy... preliminary assessment of economic structures... possible avenues for exploitation..." Again, useful information but nothing groundbreaking. Nothing that would give them the edge they needed to truly understand and manipulate this society.


    For hours, Toivonen continued her search until her eyes caught the time and realized she needed to get going to that meeting in Virginia. Another sigh left her leaning back in her chair, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to ward off the impending headache. It seemed today was going to be a bust as well.


    Toivonen knew that she was pushing her people hard. Her officers were working their asses off in uncharted territory, trying to make inroads where they could, but they were on a very delicate timeline. Every day, every hour that passed without a significant breakthrough, was another straw piled up onto the camel''s back that would ultimately end with another unsustainable occupation.


    Giving her screen one more glance, Toivonen continued scrolling through the reports until a particular entry caught her eye. It was from an Army Special Forces team, detailing their successful infiltration into a village and the establishment of a clandestine forward operating base for other Special Operations forces in the area.


    Initially, she was about to click away, her mind already moving on to the next potential lead, but something about the phrasing gave her pause. "Established as a forward operations base¡­?" she muttered to herself, her brow furrowing deeply. That sounded more significant than the usual recon and contact reports she''d been seeing.


    The fact that they had managed to set up a functional base in enemy territory intrigued her. Deciding to read further, Toivonen started to murmur as she scanned through the report, and her eyes slowly started to widen with each point of interest.


    ¡°Dismantling an enemy company that was employing scorched earth tactics¡­ clearing a village and ingratiating themselves to the survivors¡­ using survivors to infiltrate another village¡­ launch a snatch and grab operation and bagging a low-ranking noble¡­¡± Toivonen stopped halfway through the document before scrolling up to look at the Special Forces team¡¯s profile. ¡°Who are these guys¡­?¡±


    As she reviewed each member¡¯s dossier, a flicker of recognition sparked in her mind. This wasn''t just any Special Forces team¡ªit was the very problem child who had somehow attracted the attention of a fairy goddess from the other side.


    A chuckle of amusement left Toivonen¡¯s mouth as she placed a hand on her face. She had been so swamped with higher-priority tasks that she had almost completely forgotten they existed. She had case officers who were supposed to keep close tabs on their progress, but once they crossed into the other side, that was that. If she was being frank, part of Toivonen had expected that mischievous little demon to get them killed at some point or another.


    But as she pored over the reports, she stumbled upon an attached document from an Intelligence Support Activity element, codenamed Obsidian Edge, detailing the intelligence they had gathered from this knight they had taken prisoner. It was filled to the brim with detailed description of the social structure and general atmosphere of the ¡®Seraphic¡¯ Empire and its vassal states. Granted, the information was filtered through the POW''s somewhat schizophrenic perception, but it was still a goldmine compared to what they had been working with thus far.


    Suddenly, Toivonen''s interest in this Special Forces team skyrocketed. With a few deft clicks of her mouse and some rapid-fire clacks on her keyboard, she pulled up a horde of documents related to their mission. The team leader, Major Patrick Coleman, had been diligently cataloging their exploits in fine detail, and Toivonen eagerly devoured the intelligence analysts'' assessments.


    The more she read, the more impressed she became. These operators were good. Damn good. In a matter of weeks, operating in a completely foreign environment, they had managed to gather a truly staggering amount of actionable intel and started the process of building the bridges needed for the operations she was looking to conduct.


    Leaning back in her chair, Toivonen crossed one leg over the other as her mind raced with the possibilities. ¡°Coleman¡­¡± The Intelligence Chief muttered. It was as if she was tasting the name. Testing the weight of the name on her tongue.


    Toivonen bit her lower lip as she delved deeper into the files on this borderline rogue team. There was something special about this group, something that set them apart from the other units operating in the area. The way this¡­ ¡®Coleman¡¯ grasped and maneuvered his team through the human element of this conflict... it resonated with her on a fundamental level.


    They weren''t just gathering intel or making contacts. They were engaging with the local population, building relationships, and leveraging those connections to further their mission. These men were the living embodiment of the old Special Forces spirit¡­ Slipping into hostile territory and destabilizing the government or regime in such a manner they can be deemed neutralized.


    And by God, they were doing just that.


    The decision to execute the village head under the guise of a Geneva Convention clause denying POW status to spies? It was a bold move, one that most commanders would have shied away from. But Coleman had made the call, and it had paid off in spades. The man even followed it up with a veritable puppet that was friendly towards US and NATO forces.


    And then there was the way they had connected themselves to the criminal underground of this alien world, inserting themselves into the power structures of a major town. It was a risky play, one that could have backfired spectacularly.


    As Toivonen read on, her respect for the man grew with each passing paragraph. He was taking risks, yes, but they were calculated risks, and each one was weighed against the potential benefits. But despite all this¡­ there was a curious lack of details or even mentions about the problematic member of the man¡¯s team and the goddess¡­


    Toivonen leaned back in her chair, her mind whirring with the implications. She had read up on this individual and even met him during the negotiation with the goddess and her superiors¡­ Elijah didn¡¯t show a shred of respect for authority then, and she knew he most likely wouldn¡¯t have been showing it now¡­


    It was almost as if Coleman was covering for them.


    Regardless, the networks Coleman and his team were building were the kind of deep, granular relationships that most in the CIA could only dream of. She needed to bring this man into her fold. If he could achieve this much operating independently, imagine what he could do with the full backing and resources of her organization.


    The possibilities were endless.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 81

    The morning sun seemed to find its way through the wooden shutters and hit Elijah in the eyes, causing him to stir slowly. Slowly, the medic lifted his head off the pillow as a low groan escaped his lips.


    Squinting his eyes hatefully at the intrusive beam, Elijah shifted around and felt something tickle his face. As his scowl deepened, the man¡¯s hand reached up and plucked a few stray feathers from his tousled beard and hair from the plethora of pillows that surrounded him.


    The bed beneath him was not so much a bed as it was a nest - a cozy jumble of soft furs, plush cushions, and warm blankets that cradled his body. It was an odd arrangement but one that had proven surprisingly comfortable.


    As his gaze listlessly wandered around the room, the sight of Bennett wrapped up in a tight cocoon in a similar nest caught him off guard. The engineer¡¯s mouth hanging half-open in a comical imitation of a ghoul caused Elijah to stare incredulously for a few solid seconds before he began the process of throwing off furs and blankets.


    Too tired to laugh at him, Elijah turned his groggy head instead and took in his surroundings. The room itself was the very picture of fantasy charm. Everywhere he looked, he was given the impression of a cozy sanctuary with its sturdy and rustic wooden design and stone supports that added a certain timeless quality. It was like stepping into a scene from a novel or a video game full of magic and mystery.


    Then again, the magic and mystery here was very real.


    At the center of the room, a small fire crackled gently in the curiously designed hearth. Instead of a traditional chimney, the smoke was drawn up through a twisting, spiraling conduit that seemed to look like it took inspiration from a chemistry set. But what really grabbed his attention was what was burning.


    The logs that fed the fire were unlike any Elijah had ever seen. They were not the typical blocks of timber one would expect to find in a fireplace but rather strange, gnarled things that seemed to take on a quality similar to obsidian but within an earthly green. They burned slowly, almost reluctantly, as if loath to give themselves to the consuming flames.


    Yet, for all their strange appearance, the logs gave off a gentle, comforting heat that bathed the room with a deep, orange glow. This warmth seeped into one''s bones, chasing away the chill of the night and the lingering aches of the day''s exertions.


    As Elijah sat up, his muscles protested in return from the abuse he had put it through over the past few weeks of constant torture and sleep deprivation. A high-pitched groan left his mouth as he threw his arms over his head and stretched out his weary muscles. Usually, he¡¯d comment that he was too old for this shit, but Elijah noticed something strange.


    This was the first time in a long time he didn¡¯t feel like complete garbage.


    For someone who spent as long as he had in the soldiering profession would attest to the constant back, shoulder, and knee aches they would have experienced. It was a near-universal constant unless said soldier was a genetic freak or never spent a day in combat arms rucking 80 to nearly 200 pounds of garbage on their back.


    Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, Elijah took a deeper look around the room. Light still spilled through the shutters and slowly drifted across the room as the sun shifted positions. For a moment, Elijah thought himself to be on some sort of vacation due to the far cry from the harsh fluorescent glare of the barracks or the harsh days of spending out in the elements. However, everything here seemed softer, more organic, and more alive.


    As he stood up, Elijah''s hand went to his face as he sucked in a mouthful of air in a slow yawn that stretched out his jaw and neck muscles in a satisfying manner. His eyes were still heavy with the remnants of sleep, but he seemed more alert than ever, even as he lazily scanned the room in search of his little fairy companion.


    It had become a habit, a small ritual of sorts, to check on Yana first thing upon waking. But as his gaze drifted towards the fireplace, Elijah froze, his eyes snapping wide open. There, nestled against one of the strange, burning logs, was the massive pitch-black egg he had swiped some time ago. And there, flitting around it in the midst of the flames, was Yana.


    For a moment, panic gripped Elijah''s heart. The egg was completely engulfed in the fire, and Yana along with it. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Had she accidentally knocked the egg into the flames? Was she trying to save it? But as he watched, his panic slowly subsided, replaced by a weary resignation. The egg was already in the fire, and Yana seemed completely unperturbed by the flames licking at her tiny form. In fact, she seemed to be fussing over the egg, tending to it with a strange, almost maternal attention.


    Elijah shook his head, a weary sigh left his lips. Of course. He should have known better than to worry. In her own words, Yana was a goddess ya know. A real one ya know.


    And as for the egg... well, it was probably too late to do anything about that now. Whatever was going to happen would happen. There was no sense in getting worked up about it.


    Twisting his body to get a better look at what she was doing, Elijah couldn''t help but think about how possessive Yana had been of that egg ever since he''d stolen it during that ambush. It was a strange thing, with its strange, uneven surface that seemed more like hastily molten rock. And yet, for reasons known only to the capricious little fairy, it had become her most prized possession.


    He had sent everything else they''d acquired back Earthside with those Activity spooks, save for a potion or two. But Yana? She had been adamant about keeping the egg. And after everyone had witnessed her light up that convoy like a Christmas tree... well, no one had the balls to tell her no.


    Because really, who in their right mind would try to take something from a literal immortal being that could vaporize you with a wave of their hand for the sake of a strange, oversized egg? No one, that¡¯s who. There wasn''t a soul stupid enough to bother enough to try, and so, the little fairy kept the damn thing.


    ¡°What egg? I never saw no egg.¡± Was the prevailing sentiment.


    Sure, he had to haul the damn thing around like a mule, but if Eliah was being honest with himself, he didn''t really mind. Outside of her mischievous pranks and her incessant nagging, Yana didn''t cause too many problems in actuality. She didn''t ask for much beyond being a fatty and asking for a piece of anyone and everyone¡¯s food, she didn¡¯t bother anyone who wasn¡¯t her apostle.


    Tribute for their new goddess, she called it.


    Shaking his head, Elijah turned his attention back to the goddess and watched as she continued to fuss over the egg and dance around in the fireplace. He couldn''t help but wonder what she was doing. She was clearly pouring a lot of... something into it. Magic, energy, whatever it was that fueled her impossible existence. But to what end?


    With another high-pitched groan, Elijah stretched once more, marveling at how easily his muscles moved as he seemed to haul himself up from his nest. It was almost as if his muscles were starting to de-age and get some vitality back. He wanted to say that it was most likely due to his excitement about being in a weird new world full of weird new things, but as he looked over to his Patron, he seemed to have a few suspicions as to the actual reason.


    Elijah wandered over to the fireplace and squatted down to get a closer look at Yana''s mysterious ministrations. The egg seemed to pulsate and hum with each touch in the flickering flames. Arches of fiery violet shimmered around inside like a turbulent storm, making its obsidian surface nearly transparent. It was a rather mesmerizing display to see Yana darting in and out of the flames like a manic hummingbird as she gently touched the egg in different locations.


    "What are you doing, you little monster?" Elijah asked with a voice still rough with sleep. "You trying to cook the thing for breakfast?"


    Yana paused in her frenetic dance, turning to face Elijah with an expression of utter indignation. "Cook it?" she scoffed as her tiny hands planted themselves on her hips. "Don''t be ridiculous, Apostle!"


    With a dramatic flourish, the fairy leaped onto one of the burning logs, throwing her hands up in the air in a celebratory fashion. "I''m nurturing our minion!" she declared, her voice ringing with a strange mix of pride and mischief.


    Elijah stood there for a moment with one eyebrow raised in a perfect arc of skepticism. "Wait," he replied, slowly trying to wrap his sleep-addled brain around her words. "You''re not cooking it?"


    Yana jumped in place again, her arms once more thrown out in that same cheerful gesture. "No!" her eyes sparkled with an almost maniacal glee. "I''m nurturing our minion!"


    A bout of silence settled over Elijah as he scratched his head while a perplexed look etched onto his face. No matter what he did, he just couldn''t quite reconcile the idea of an egg engulfed in flames with anything resembling nurturing. It just didn''t compute.


    But deciding to humor the eccentric being, Elijah carefully considered her words. "What, like another servant or something?" he ventured, trying to make sense of her proclamation.


    Yana repeated her little dance, bouncing on the log with the same jubilant fervor that bordered on the unhinged. "No, our minion!" she repeated once more with a wide smile on her face.


    Elijah hummed thoughtfully as he straightened his posture and cast a thoughtful gaze around the room as if he were searching for answers in the rough-hewn walls and flickering shadows. "So," he said at last, turning back to Yana with a quizzical tilt of his head. Someone like me?" He pointed to himself, a half-frown of confusion pulling at his mouth''s corner.


    But Yana merely shook her head vigorously, her fiery hair whipping about like a banner in a storm. "No, a minion!" she declared once more, her tone suggesting that this should be the most obvious thing in the world.


    The fairy¡¯s apostle stared at her with one hand over his mouth in a contemplative manner before he started blinking to dispel the nonsense threatening to overwhelm his brain.


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    Unable to distinguish what a ¡®minion¡¯ meant to his supposed goddess, Elijah just shook his head and turned away from the fireplace. Trying to decipher the classification for a servant, an apostle, or whatever other category of underling she might dream up was a fruitless endeavor. But then again, trying to understand the workings of a fairy''s mind, especially one as capricious and insane as Yana, was an exercise in futility.


    ¡°Haha, what the fuck man.¡± A rueful chuckle escaped Elijah¡¯s mouth as he made his way toward the pile of gear in the corner of the room, deciding that the mystery of Yana''s minion-making was best left unsolved. He had more pressing matters to attend to, like getting dressed and ready for whatever fresh madness the day might bring.


    Rummaging through the assortment of clothes and equipment, Elijah pulled out another set of local garments that were a lot more casual. Instead of posing as the more mercenary type, he replaced the harsh leather armor with something that would help him blend in with the local townsfolk.


    As he dressed, Elijah made sure to tuck his pistol securely into the concealed holster at his waistband. Even in this more relaxed setting, he wasn''t about to go completely unarmed. One never knew if they were being set up or what threats might lurk around the corner in this strange, unpredictable world.


    While adjusting his new clothes so his gun wouldn¡¯t show, Elijah wandered over to the window and peered out at the scene beyond. The town was already stirring to life, with bakers, shopkeepers, and the everyday pedestrians moving along to start their day. But what really caught his attention were children and smaller beings scurrying about. Like a fantasy version of a street sweeper, they ran around busily, pulling out and throwing into a basket on their back strange vines, flowers, and mushrooms that grew between the cracks of the stone road and snaked up the walls of the buildings.


    A hum of interest left Elijah''s mouth as he watched their industrious work at the crack of dawn. Each time one of them would rip away a flower or mushroom, and the twisting vines would recoil and retreat back into the cracks they grew from. It was an interesting profession, and Elijah wondered just how much they got paid for such a laborious job.


    With the early morning sun sitting loftily on the horizon, Elijah turned back to the room to start his day and see what new adventure and opportunities it might hold. As he double-checked his gear, his gaze fell on the still-slumbering Bennett, who was still wrapped tightly in his bedding.


    A mischievous grin spread across Elijah''s face after he realized the engineer was completely vulnerable. Waltzing over to his bedding, Elijah grabbed a pillow from his own nest, and with a deft flick of his wrist, he sent the pillow sailing through the air in a perfect arc. He watched with satisfaction as it smacked Bennett squarely in the face, eliciting a startled snort from the sleeping man. His eyes fluttered open, and his body shook awake.


    "Wake up," Elijah called out, his voice far too cheerful for the early hour. "Let''s go get something to eat and see what we can find out today."


    At the mention of food, Yana''s tiny form shot up excitedly from her place by the fireplace. "Food!" she yelled before immediately zipping over to hover near Elijah''s shoulder. You promised me food, Apostle! I command thee to fulfill thy sacred duty!"


    Almost recoiling from the speed of the being, Elijah narrowed his eyes and raised one incredulous eyebrow. "Um¡­. won''t your egg burn if you leave it?" he asked, gesturing towards the fire.


    But Yana merely waved her hand dismissively with a look of utter confidence on her tiny face. "Bah, it''ll be fine," she assured him, her tone brooking no argument. "Now go, mortal! I command thee!"


    "As you wish, oh mighty one," Elijah rolled his eyes before looking back to Benentt. ¡°Hurry up Ben! I want food!"


    Bennett, meanwhile, was slowly extracting himself from his cocoon of blankets, grumbling under his breath as he blinked groggily in the morning light. "Mmmm¡­?" he murmured, peering around in confusion with a completely frazzled look. ¡°Food¡­?¡±


    The sleep engineer seemed to react at the mention of food, but his body remained stubbornly entangled in the nest of blankets. He pressed both hands into his eyes, groaning before flopping back down into his nest. It would take a while to untangle himself from this mess, but Bennett slowly started peeling off layers.


    Once he saw that an effort was being made, Elijah let out an amused huff before heading towards the door. "Meet me downstairs," he called out as he checked his pistol again to make sure it was concealed. "I¡¯ma see if there¡¯s anything ready."


    A grumble of affirmation left Bennett¡¯s mouth as he finally untangled himself and unsteadily stood up. He wanted to lay there for another moment, but the engineer sucked in a deep breath to muster the energy to face the day.


    As Elijah made his way out, Yana excitedly followed after, landing on his shoulder with a tiny thud. However, once she made her landing, the tiny goddess shook her feet, knocking still-burning coals off as she cleaned herself.


    Elijah flinched away, brushing at his shoulder as he gave the little fairy a startled look. "Jesus!¡± He yelped as he glared at Yana. ¡°You may not burn, but I certainly as fuck do!¡± He grumbled as he made his way out the door and into the second-floor hallway.


    The tavern''s more exclusive rooms were located on the far end of the rather large building, offering a degree of privacy and luxury that the common areas couldn''t match. The hallway itself was well-appointed, with rich wooden paneling and plush carpets that muffled his footsteps as he walked. But as soon as he reached the stairs, the luxury seemed to stop abruptly and was replaced with a rough, utilitarian aesthetic.


    As he descended into the dining area, Elijah noticed that the place was mostly empty, except for a few working girls. The few courtesans were either preparing the common area for the influx of patrons or lounging around. Regardless of what they were doing, they all seemed to turn to Elijah simultaneously and gave him a curious look. Every eye seemed to lash his form up and down as if appraising him with a mix of professional and personal intrigue.


    However, One of the girls was the same tanned-skinned cat girl he saw last night. With dark auburn hair and a swishing tail, she dared to make her presence known and stepped forward, full of curiosity. The feline courtesan held a sultry smile and caught Elijah staring at her before, but as she approached, her gaze seemed to momentarily hone in on the tiny fairy perched on Elijah¡¯s shoulder.


    Her eyes widened, filled with the instinctual urge to catch the small, fluttering creature. However, she controlled herself, dragging her gaze back to the man in question with visible effort. "Sorry, hon," she purred, her voice a sultry drawl, "but breakfast isn''t ready yet." She cupped her hands behind her back, leaning forward and tilting her head up to look at Elijah through her lashes so he could get a better look at her cleavage.


    "But¡­ one of us might be able to offer you a quick round of service if you so wish¡­" The implication was clear as day as she batted her eyes at him. ¡°Any friend of Mara is a friend of ours, after all.¡± Her tail curled and uncurled in a come-hither motion.


    While the cat girl giggled seductively and circled him, Elijah closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he visibly struggled to control himself. The woman remained in her seductive pose as she sauntered around him. Meanwhile, Yana seemed to be copying the courtesan on Elijah¡¯s shoulder.


    A flash of bewilderment flashed through the cat girl¡¯s eyes as her gaze flickered from Yana and then back to Elijah. "What''s wrong, hon?" she purred as a coy smile played on her lips. "Are you worried about your bossman?"


    Taking another deep breath, Elijah fought against the primal urges that surged through him. Here, standing before him, was the object of his deepest desires, his ultimate fantasy - a real, living, and breathing cat girl within arm''s reach. It was an exercise in great restraint, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to reach out and pull her into his arms.


    Elijah''s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding against his ribs. The temptation was nearly overwhelming, the promise of fulfilling his deepest, most cherished fantasies right there within his grasp. His body screamed at him to accept, to throw caution to the wind and indulge in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.


    But even as his primal urges surged, his rational mind rebelled.


    A slew of curses coursed through his mind when he thought of Coleman. He couldn¡¯t help but call a prudish, pedantic by the book son of a bitch. But with a herculean effort, Elijah took a step back, distancing himself from the alluring feline. "I... I appreciate the offer," he managed, his voice strained. "But I''m afraid I''ll have to decline¡­ For now¡­"


    The cat girl flashed Elijah a toothy grin before she took a step closer. Her feline eyes darted all over his features as if studying every detail before finally backing off with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, handsome," she purred, "If you change your mind, just come lookin¡¯ for Pi?a." With a flick of her tail, Pi?a glanced back towards the kitchen area. "But so that you know, the food won''t be done for another hour or so."


    Letting out a breath he didn''t realize he''d been holding, Elijah¡¯s body relaxed as the immediate temptation retreated. The frustrated man shook his head in derision and caught sight of Yana, who was perched on his shoulder and had a rather unimpressed look on her tiny face.


    "An hour?" the fairy grumbled, pouting, crossing her arms. "What am I gonna do for an hour without tribute!?" Yana threw her arms up in outrage, causing her apostle to wear a complicated look on his face. ¡°Tribute, apostle! I require tribute!!¡±


    There was a strange feeling brewing within Elijah. Not only could he discern Yana¡¯s impatience from what she said and how she acted, but he could actually feel it in some strange, intangible way. But with a shake of his head, Elijah dispelled these thoughts for the moment. The last thing he needed was for this little demon to cause a scene and draw more attention than they already had.


    "Hey, if any of my friends come down, could you tell them I stepped out for a bit?¡± Elijah¡¯s head drifted between Pi?a and the tavern entrance as an idea popped into his head. ¡°I think I''ll take a little walk and get some fresh air while you guys start breakfast."


    Pi?a''s ears twitched with interest as she tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Sure thing, hon," she replied, her voice a sultry purr. She followed Elijah to the tavern''s heavy doors, her hips swaying with each step, intent on seeing him off.


    As he made his way to the entrance, Elijah pushed open the door and let in a gust of fresh morning air while Pi?a leaned against the doorframe. Her tail swished back and forth in the air as she narrowed her eyes around the street, spotting the local muscle and freelancer meandering around. "Just a word of advice, hon," she said, her tone turning more serious. "Stay close to the merchants'' Row. The deeper you go into the town''s heart, the rougher it gets."


    Elijah paused, turning to look at Pi?a with a raised eyebrow. "Rougher?" he asked with a note of curiosity in his voice.


    The courtesan nodded as her eyes narrowed slightly. "The gangs there aren''t beholden to the rules and etiquette that''s standard for ruffians when in The Gilded Courier''s territory."


    That word seemed to ring out to Elijah like church bells as he furrowed his brow. His interest was piqued, and he felt as if he had found a rather notable point of interest. "The Gilded Courier?" he repeated, the unfamiliar term rolling off his tongue as he looked to Pi?a for an answer.


    But the cat girl remained tight-lipped, with the coy smile on her face becoming slightly strained. The quiet between the two lasted for a few more moments as Pi?a debated on how best to approach the subject. "Don''t worry about it, hon. Just know that you behave when you''re on The Gilded Courier''s turf." She finally replied in a tone that said she was giving Elijah a warning.


    Hitching his breath, Elijah stopped the thoughtful hum that was going to leave his mouth and stared hard at the woman as his mind started to churn. He knew better than to press for more information, especially when it came to the inner workings of the criminal underworld. Instead, he simply nodded and gave Pi?a an understanding smile.


    "I got it," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "I''ll be sure to mind my manners."


    Pi?a gave him a satisfied grin causing her sharp teeth to glint in the morning light. "Good boy," she purred, reaching out to give Elijah''s cheek a playful pat. "Now run along and explore. But don''t forget to keep out of trouble!¡± She gave a wink and spun around to head back into the tavern. ¡°I''ll be waiting right here for you when you get back." She added, throwing a look over her shoulder.


    Biting his lip as he watched the feline¡¯s hip sway, Elijah turned around himself to start his new little adventure. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll pester Aze about this¡­ Gilded Courier later.¡± He hummed to himself as he looked for the nearest food stall.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 82

    Walking down the streets of Glennsworth full of still groggy people, Elijah couldn''t help but gawk at the sights and sounds surrounding him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that he was in a living and breathing fantasy world full of magic and wonder at every turn. But despite his wide-eyed amazement, Elijah did his best to keep a low profile and essentially become background noise.


    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but be amazed at how well he blended in, even with a little fairy whose feet were kicking away happily on his shoulder. Sure, he received a few curious glances, but it seemed that Yana was no less of an oddity than anything else that seemed to meander about. So the little goddess remained contentedly undisturbed as she munched away at her little piping hot pastry that resembled a crepe more than anything else.


    As he took in the sights like a country bumpkin, Elijah¡¯s mind worked overtime to build himself a mental map of the local neighborhood. It was a slow process, but his pace was equally unhurried while he retraced the route Azeline had used to guide them to the tavern. Each twist and turn, point of interest, and landmark was meticulously noted in Elijah¡¯s mind.


    But still, he couldn¡¯t help but marvel at just how familiar yet alien this world was. The buildings were a mirror image of some rustic town in Southern Europe that had been untouched by modern engineering, but they were still adorned with strange, glowing symbols and intricate carvings. Vines in a rainbow of hues with shimmering and strangely shaped leaves sprouting all over it while snaking up the walls of buildings that weren¡¯t maintained.


    And this didn¡¯t include the town¡¯s people. Elijah had been all over the world on his side of the rift, but he¡¯d never fathomed seeing such a smorgasbord array of beings. It was a lot to take in, if he was honest with himself¡ªa veritable sensory overload for someone used to the seemingly mundane realities of Earth. But, ever the adaptable one, Elijah took it all in stride with his curiosity tempered by a keen sense of caution.


    As he made his way through town, Elijah found himself turning down a major thoroughfare where his gaze fell upon the massive wall that protected the town proper. A flicker of awe flashed in the medic''s eyes as he stopped and stared at the sturdy stone structures that separated Glennsworth from the wilds beyond. The sight of these antiquated defenses seemed to solidify that he wasn¡¯t on some random tour in the European countryside; he was indeed in another world.


    However, his reverie was seemingly disturbed by a slew of novel curses just behind him. And when Elijah turned around, his eyes fell on the surly guard who initially gave them trouble at the gate, Garrick. The rough-looking man seemed even more irritable than usual while he stomped toward the ramparts, scowling and growling as he ripped off a piece of his loaf of bread with his teeth.


    A glimmer of mischief twinkled in Yana¡¯s eye as she stuffed the last few crumbles of her pastry into her mouth. ¡°Eli! Eli! Look! Eli!¡± The tiny fairy got on her toes and started shoving Elijah¡¯s head from side to side from his shoulder. ¡°Eli! Look! It¡¯s that stupid idiot! Look!¡± Her tiny hand pointed at Garrick as he stormed past him.


    ¡°Go do your talky stuff!¡± She commanded excitedly, yanking on Elijah¡¯s hair.


    Wincing after having his hair yanked, Elijah glared at the fairy before they both shared a predatory grin. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up, especially when he had a pocket of coins. There was a play to be had here, and by God, he was going to capitalize on it. But after a few moments of contemplation, Elijah made his decision and cupped his hands around his mouth before calling out, "Hey, Garrick!"


    The guard froze mid-step, his head snapping around to locate the source of the voice. Just as they were spotted, Yana had zipped behind Elijah and crawled into his pocket while snickering mischievously.


    At first, Garrick did not recognize Elijah due to his rather ordinary-looking clothing, which reminded him of the poorly maintained armor he sported when he first came in. He just glared at him as if he were daft.


    But just when he was going to turn and ignore him for being some crazy person, a mix of recognition and annoyance flashed across the guard''s features.


    ¡°Bah!¡± The guard scoffed, throwing his hand dismissively. ¡°You¡¯re the damned whore¡¯s friend!¡± He said almost hatefully


    Unfazed by Garrick¡¯s rather hostile tone, Elijah shrugged and chuckled. "Good morning to you too, sunshine," he called out, sauntering over casually. "Fancy meeting you here."


    Garrick''s scowl deepened as his grip tightened on his half-eaten loaf of bread. "The fuck you want, pretty boy?" he growled, shifting into a more wary and defensive stance. "Shouldn''t you be off causing trouble with your little band of misfits?"


    "Nah, just taking a morning stroll, getting to know the neighborhood." Elijah shrugged with a petulant smile as he glanced around as if admiring the view. "Gotta say, it''s a real charming little town you''ve got here."


    A snort left Garrick''s mouth as he took an aggressive bite of his bread. "Charming, right," he mumbled with a full mouth. "If you like living in a shithole overrun by smugglers and cutthroats."


    Elijah''s grin widened as he approached Garrick, much to the guard''s chagrin. "Aw, come on, Garrick, don''t be like that," he said in an annoyingly cheerful tone. "We''re all friends here, right?"


    Those words soured Garractions expression further as his face twisted into a grimace. "Friends? Ha!" he scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at Elijah. "I''d have half a mind to report you lot to the Imperials! Let them lazy, pompous sheep fuckers keep an eye on you troublemakers instead!"


    At this, Elijah threw his head back and laughed as if he heard the funniest thing in the world. "And what, expose yourself for accepting bribes?" he countered, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I don''t think the Imperials would be too happy about that, now would they?"


    Garrick''s face reddened as a mix of anger and embarrassment colored his features. "Well, I did say half a mind, didn''t I?" he grumbled, kicking at the dirt. "I''m an idjit, willingly stepping in shit just like everyone else in this gods-forsaken town."


    With a huff, the guard turned to walk away, clearly done with the conversation. But Elijah, not one to let an opportunity slip by, called out to him once more. "Wait, Garrick, hold up a sec!"


    An audible groan left the guard¡¯s mouth as his shoulders tensed before slowly turning around to give the insufferable bastard a piece of his mind. But before he could open his mouth, a glint of silver caught his eye.


    The piece of flipping metal caught the sunlight as it arced towards Garrick. Instinctively, the guard''s hand shot out, snatching the coin mid-flight as his eyes widened.


    "Like I said," Elijah continued, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watched Garrick''s eyes flick from the silver coin to his face and back again. "We''re friends, right?"


    A tense silence fell upon the thoroughfare as Garrick mulled over Elijah''s words. Only the sounds of idle chatter of passersby and the clanking of hooves could be heard as the guard turned the coin over in his fingers over and over again. But it didn¡¯t take much more thought before Garrick¡¯s brow furrowed and his lips pursed after making his decision. After a long moment, he looked up, meeting Elijah''s gaze with a grudging nod.


    "Aye," Garrick admitted with a gruff voice, but it was still tinged with a hint of warmth. "I''m starting to like you more than that northern cunt."


    With an insidious smile briefly flashing across Elijah¡¯s mouth, he started to close the gap in a relaxed and friendly posture. He had struck a chord with Garrick, and now it was time for him to push all the right buttons.


    Once Elijah had closed the gap between them, he clapped his hands together and smirked. "Oh, come on. Don¡¯t be that way, Garrick," he said with a chuckle. "Go easy on Azeline. She''s a bit of a meathead and doesn''t really understand the finer points of business, you know?" He clapped a hand on Garrick''s shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.


    "She¡¯s not like us. We¡¯re businessmen through and through. We know how the game is played." Elijah said smoothly, causing Garrick¡¯s chest to puff up to put on air.


    ¡°Aye¡­¡± He said, squinting his eyes and peering around. ¡°You may be right¡­ She¡¯s rather daft.¡± He said, looking at Elijah in an Appraising manner.


    Finally, the Guard found someone who understood his values in this god-forsaken hellhole. The fact that an outsider understood that the world ran on a coin just reinforced the idea that he was trapped in some backwater. It was a concept that his contemporary and those sniveling layabouts at the headquarters seemed to be entirely aloof from. Even that elven bitch who thought she could just waltz in and throw her weight around understood that a bit of coin lead to quality work and beneficial outcomes.


    Sensing the shift in Garrick''s demeanor, Elijah looked to press his advantage further. "I mean, look at you," he continued, gesturing to the Garrick and then towards the town walls. "You''re the one out here daily, keeping the wolves at bay and trade flowing without a HITCH.¡±


    Garrick nodded along, hanging on Elijah''s every word as the man continued to extol the guard''s shrewd virtues. The praise and validation were like a balm to Garrick''s battered ego, soothing the resentment and frustration that had built up the long years of being stuck in Glennsworth.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Now that he had Garrick''s full attention, Elijah gestured towards the gate where the guard was supposed to relieve his compatriot. However, the men stationed at the gate seemed to neglect their ¡®duties¡¯ in inspecting carts and scrutinizing travelers and were just lazily waving swathes of people in. It was as if these buffoons didn¡¯t have care in the world.


    It pained Garrick to no end as he saw each individual passing through as a coin lost or tribute forsaken.


    And it seemed Elijah held the same sentiment as he let out a frustrated groan and waved in the gate''s general direction, "Look at ¡®em!" Elijah growled with a voice dripping with disdain. "They¡¯re not doing goddamn thing, man!" He nearly shouted in an annoyed tone as he threw his arms up in frustration. ¡°How much revenue are you missing out on because of these clowns?¡±


    ¡°Five copper, three copper, a silver, ten coppers¡­¡± Elijah started rattling off random numbers for each person who walked through. The number seemed to be higher the more things or how well-dressed a traveler was.


    A dark look came over Garrick''s face. He physically felt the money slipping through his fingers while repeatedly balling into a fist and loosening as if trying to grasp something invisible. None of his fellow guardsmen took any of his ideals seriously and just thought of this job as an easy way to get steady pay while they milled about. It was a disgrace, a slap in the face to everything Garrick stood for while he busted his ass to be more than just another guard who was barely scraping by.


    Elijah took a few steps away from Garrick and ran a hand through his hair as he watched the shit show at the gate. "Your toll, your¡­ ¡®rigorous inspections.¡¯¡± He turned to face the guard and pointed at him in an almost `aggressive manner. ¡°That''s a goddamn public service, and it''s a fuckin¡¯ shame it isn''t recognized as such."


    Garrick seemed to freeze at that as his face contorted into confusion. He considered himself a greedy rat, not someone doing anything to better anyone''s life.


    But Garrick could get a proper word in, and Elijah continued his rant while pacing back and forth. "I mean, think about it! Really think about it! Those fees keep this town running! ¡± Elijah rolled his eyes as he walked about. ¡°The toll means people money towards the town, and since they¡¯re paying for its services, they would want the town to run smoothly."


    A difficult look formed on Garrick''s face as those words percolated into his mind. He hadn¡¯t thought about that before¡­


    "It¡¯s the cost of keeping the peace and without it¡­ without men like you showing thugs that this town and its protectors mean business¡­¡± Elijah said, ringing with conviction. He allowed the words to hang for a few moments before continuing. ¡°Everything would fall apart."


    ¡°I mean, look at these fucks!¡± Elijah nearly yells, throwing his arms toward the lazy men idling about. ¡°They''re just letting the rabble in, no questions asked! The other guards aren¡¯t even checking what''s inside to gauge how much they should charge, let alone be bothered to negotiate with any merchant!¡±


    It took a while, but Elijah''s words finally sank in, causing Garrick¡¯s eyes to widen as he considered a new perspective. Everything he had done was always framed in a self-serving and greedy manner. He shook down the peasants and merchants because the town''s bigwigs got their slice of the pie, and he wanted his. But now, with this stranger highlighting the fact that his greed was a helpful service, Garrick found himself reconsidering his stance.


    He rubbed his poorly kept, scraggly beard, nodding slowly as the gears turned in his head. "Aye, you may have a point there," he admitted, his voice thoughtful. "Come to think of it... We never had these hoodlum problems before the Imperials started getting more uppity and started to manage how the guard ran the gate¡­¡±


    Elijah had to use every ounce of self-control to stop the feral smile that was threatening to form on his face after seeing someone say the mountain of bullshit he was feeding them was delicious. But that little tidbit of information about how the occupying forces were micromanaging the gate was quite interesting¡­


    Leaning in further, Elijah wore an expression full of disdain before nodding sympathetically. "Rules, rules, rules¡­¡± he groaned, rolling his eyes. ¡°They want everything done their way without considering where they are or who they¡¯re talking to."


    Garrick nodded vigorously, his face twisting into a scowl. "Aye, those are the truest words ever spoken!¡± He shouted, kicking a random empty box, causing it to tumble away. ¡°Bunch of pompous, arrogant bastards they are! Cunts think they know how to run things for locals better than the locals!"


    "Same shit, different pot.¡± Elijah hummed in agreement as a sly smile played on his lips before he lightly smacked Garrick''s shoulder with the back of his hand and motioned him to follow. ¡°No matter where you go, you got assholes thinking they know what''s what and start implementing bullshit that just ends up falling apart in no time.¡± Elijah continued to paint his narrative vaguely and broadly by describing every incompetent occupying force that existed seemingly everywhere. ¡°So you know what I say? Profit off the sons of bitches and get your coin! Fuck ¡®em!


    The guard cackled hard at that as his hand slapped his thigh. ¡°Aye, lad! Fuck ¡®em!¡±. Yes, that was it exactly. He wasn''t just lining his pockets; he was maintaining order, doing a service to the town.


    Seeing he had Garrick right where he wanted him, Elijah pulled out another silver coin and started rolling it between his fingers. "You know, my team and I... we''re problem solvers," he said cryptically, flipping the coin in the air and catching it with a deft hand. ¡°We were brought in to balance things out, so to speak. To ensure the flow of goods and services remains unimpeded, without all the... friction." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "Wouldn¡¯t it be nice to make coin freely like you used to? Before all these imperial upstarts started throwing their weight around?"


    A smack of Garrick''s tongue echoed out as his eyes followed the glinting coin. The words were like honey to ears. He longed for a time to be rid of all of these pedantic rules and regulations that served no one. Not even the Imperial lovers that cozied up to them liked or even understood these rules¡­


    ¡°You can be a part of that, Garrick,¡± Elijah said in almost a cooing manner as he threw his arm around Garrick¡¯s neck and brought him in closer in a conspiratorial manner. ¡°You can be a problem solver and establish connections that turned this pretty silver coin¡­¡± Elijah then placed the coin gently into the guard''s hand. ¡° Into a golden one.¡±


    A bout of silence lingered between the two as the guard reached out and grabbed the coin. ¡°A-Aye, I believe I can help in one way or another¡­¡±


    A feral smile spread across Elijah''s face as Garrick took the bait.


    It didn¡¯t take long for Elijah to leave the guard to his duties after they promised to meet up once more at Mara¡¯s for a much more involved debriefing. There was a lot to learn and a lot of pieces of the puzzle to fit together, but he was confident that this was a solid start to their stint in this town.


    As he meandered through the winding streets, Elijah found himself drifting towards the stables where the villagers had settled their carts and beasts of burden. It was apparent they didn''t quite have the funds to afford room and board at an inn, so they opted to stay in the pens with their animals. Looking around, Elijah couldn¡¯t help but gawk at the countless strange creatures, followed by the hustle and bustle of people around them.


    Navigating his way past beasts shuffling about and men hurriedly carrying crates or burlap sacks to and fro, Elijah made a beeline for the stables proper after spotting a few familiar faces. As he rounded a wall of the massive building, Elijah was greeted with the view of the villagers of Twineward tending to their livestock, repairing their carts, and setting up makeshift campsites. The air was filled with the sounds of lowing livestock, bleating sheep-like creatures, and the chatter of those going about their daily tasks.


    While he wove his way through the chaos, Elijah¡¯s eyes scanned the crowd, jumping from stable to stable until he found what he was looking for. There, standing on a cart while covering the sensitive equipment with several furs and linens, was Kwon.


    The Chinese-American team sergeant looked up and made eye contact with Elijah as he approached. Hopping down from his perch, Kwon threw up a friendly hand and waited for the medic.


    ¡°Yo!¡± Known called out, leaning against the cart as Elijah approached. ¡°What the hell you doin¡¯ here? Everything good?¡±


    Elijah grinned, jerking his upward to return Kwon''s greeting. "Shit went a lot better than expected.¡± Elijah chuckled, fist-bumping his team sergeant. ¡°Just thought I''d take a little walk, get the lay of the land, you know?"


    Kwon raised an eyebrow as a knowing look crossed his face. "The lay of the land, huh?¡± He then looked around for anyone else. ¡°Cole, let you out by yourself?¡± The Sergeant asked, knowing full well that Elijah had scurried out without anyone knowing.


    A chuckle left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he shook his head. "What am I, a fuckin'' dog?" he asked in mock amusement. ¡°Do you all have that little amount of faith in me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, give me a break, bro,¡± Kwon said, rolling his eyes as the two operators in the back laughed. ¡°Everyone knows you¡¯re a goddamn menace, Eli!¡± The team sergeant laughed before turning around to rifle through the cart. "You''re one step away from being a loose cannon, and if it weren¡¯t for the fact that you¡¯re amazing at what you do¡­¡± He then pulled out a bag of Elijah¡¯s favorite beef jerky and tossed it to him. ¡°Your candy ass woulda been chaptered out a long time ago, and you fuckin¡¯ know it.¡±


    After catching the bag with one hand, a mischievous grin spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he threw a dismissive wave and slipped the beef jerky into a sizeable hidden pocket under his cloak. "Bro, c¡¯mon! I¡¯m the picture of good behavior!." He replied innocently as he tore the bag open.


    A snort resounded as Kwon shook his head. "Yeah, and I''m the fuckin¡¯ Queen of England," he retorted with a tone dripping with sarcasm. "You¡¯re so goddamn close to being a loose cannon that we might as well be splitting hairs!¡± He gestured outwards as he covered the cart back up. ¡°Remember when we were embedded with the Golden Division in Mosul?¡±


    Elijah let out an agonizing groan as he pressed his hand to his head. ¡°Ya, I remember it being a complete shit show.¡± He grumbled as Yana fluttered out of his hood and zipped into the confines of his cloak to chase after the jerky. "The place was literally like the Thunder Dome,¡± Elijah added just before he felt a curious pang of joy as his patron chomped down on the Jerky.


    Kwon nodded, a distant look in his eye. "Ya, well, you had some crazy, unorthodox methods back then, too," he said. "But I always had your back and came through when it mattered." He paused, fixing Elijah with a severe stare. "But I¡¯m a team sergeant now, and I can¡¯t cover for your six like I used to.¡±


    ¡°Look, I just don''t want to see you throw your career away over some petty bullshit, Eli.¡± Kwon pushed off the cart and started to gesture towards Elijah sympathetically. ¡°I know you and the Colonel fuckin¡¯ hate each other, but you gotta learn to play by the rules, or he''s gonna shitcan you..."


    ¡°Oh right, I should just start sucking the West Point cunt¡¯s dick like his bitch boy Coleman? Fuckin¡¯ please.¡± Elijah rolled his eyes, throwing his hand up dismissively. "Who cares, anyways?" he scoffed. "If the military doesn''t want me, I''ll just take up contracting like all the other dickheads."


    Kwon pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Fuckin'' hell, Eli," he muttered as if the medic was a lost cause. "Alright, whatever. Just tell me why the hell are you here¡­ I thought you''d be off being someone else¡¯s problem."


    Elijah blinked after remembering why he bothered to track them down in the first place and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Got breakfast and an intel brief back at the tavern we secured," he said. "Thought I''d come and grab you and the rest of the guys. Figured you might want in on the action."


    Kwon raised an eyebrow as his interest piqued despite himself. "Breakfast?" he repeated. "Well, hot damn! Why are you just standing there? Lead the goddamn way, dude!¡± He said, making a shooing motion with his hands. ¡°We¡¯re getting sick of the shitty peasant bread and beef jerky!¡±

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter. 83

    Coleman couldn¡¯t help but heave a frustrated sigh as he watched the half of his team that made it into town literally inhale their morning meal as if it were their last. The simple yet hearty spread of Eggs, porridge, and assorted meats seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye as the entry half of the team lounged in Elijah¡¯s and Bennett¡¯s room.


    Rifles, helmets, water bottles, and other equipment were scattered around the room while enjoying a brief reprieve moment. However, Coleman¡¯s mood was much more sour as he glanced around the room, watching everyone laugh and eat.


    Here they were, bunched up in one location in an establishment with an owner who he didn¡¯t trust. The only thing stopping this ¡®Tavern¡¯s¡¯ Madam from turning on them was a bit of money and her good word.


    ¡°This is getting out of control¡­¡± Coleman muttered as he glanced at Elijah, sitting by the fireplace with his fairy. The little demon gingerly and meticulously rolled her massive egg in the fire while flames licked her body as if they didn¡¯t matter.


    Another sigh left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he glared at his medic. He wanted to rip into Elijah and tear him a new one for just wandering about without telling anyone, but Coleman¡¯s hands were tied in the matter.


    On the one hand, the results this borderline renegade was bringing in were impossible to ignore. His ability to blend in and subvert whatever environment he was in was unparalleled and was a skill that any alphabet agency spook would go to war to obtain. But on the other hand¡­ Keeping this monster on a leash proved harder and harder with each consecutive success.


    Elijah was getting bolder, and Coleman¡¯s ability to reign in this menace, or even justify reigning him in, was becoming much more difficult with each passing day.


    In hindsight, Elijah''s little venture was a superb move executed flawlessly. The insane little prick brought home a veritable treasure trove of actionable intelligence, half of which was cross-referenced by their local asset, Azeline, and it drove Coleman mad.


    Heaving another sigh, Coleman turned to Kwon, who was sitting beside him, and spoke in a mentally exhausted voice. "Kwon, can we manage to get a relay up somewhere? I need to do a sitrep and dump all this on command."


    A hum left Kwon¡¯s mouth as he frowned. It would be complicated to get something up when they didn¡¯t have a good handle on their environment. "Getting one up is going to be tricky¡­." His voice was thoughtful, already running through potential locations in his mind. ¡°We¡¯d have to put it somewhere where no one would notice or ask questions.¡±


    Silence reigned as the two considered the challenges of setting up a covert relay in this unfamiliar environment. Kwon continued to poke at his plate before scooping something that resembled a small sausage with his MRE spoon. "You know," he said slowly before making a weird face when he took a bite of the sausage-like meat, "given the size of that thing, it might not be the wisest move to try and shove it on some roof somewhere." Kwon chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before continuing. "There¡¯s no way we could hide that thing, and that''s not even counting on getting it into town in the first place."


    Coleman rubbed his face as a difficult expression clouded his features. He mulled over their options, trying to find a way to get the critical intel back to command without compromising their position.


    "I guess¡­" he muttered, more to himself than to Kwon, "The only thing we can do is contact the QRF or the Aussies and have them run the information back to the SIGINTers."


    But even as the words left his mouth, Coleman''s mind was already racing ahead, considering the ramifications of such a move. Joint command was already directing more teams and resources to their area to support their new mission, especially after learning that Coleman and his team had turned a village into a clandestine forward operating base.


    This was especially the case when Coleman had made the call that he and his team would make a move on the town. The fact that the SASR had been tasked as support spoke volumes about the importance of command weight in the operation. And with this new update¡­ A significant increase in both assets and scrutiny would come their way, and Coleman couldn''t help but wonder if he should be selective about the information he shared.


    His gaze drifted back to Elijah, and a pang of frustration shot through him. The man was slowly starting to take over the operation, and the fact that Elijah had managed to secure one of the gate guards as an inside man was¡­ significant. It was the kind of intelligence that could make or break their mission.


    In Coleman¡¯s mind, reporting it put yet another feather on the camel¡¯s back. To him, it felt like rewarding bad behavior and encouraging the qualities that made Elijah so problematic. For a moment, the team leader entertained omitting this tidbit of detail from his report. It would be easy enough to leave out any mention of Elijah''s little side venture.


    But almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Coleman dismissed it. Leaving out such critical intel was beyond stupid. It was a dereliction of duty that could get him kicked out of the Army and thrown in the brig.


    Coleman closed his eyes and sucked in deeply. He couldn''t let his personal feelings about Elijah cloud his judgment and interfere with the mission. No matter how much it irked him or how much it felt like everyone was dancing to Elijah''s tune, he had to report the facts.


    All of them.


    After releasing his breath, Coleman turned back to Kwon with renewed determination. Even though it seemed like his medic was taking over this entire operation, he would have to roll with it. "Alright," he clapped his hands together after making his decision. "We''ll have to run it. Contact the Aussies and have them relay everything we''ve returned to the village."


    Popping another sausage into his mouth, Kwon nodded along. "Roger that," he replied with a full mouth. "I''ll make the call as soon as we set up those low-frequency nodes. This''ll be a good opportunity to get that ball rolling and set them up around the town."


    "Nodes?" Coleman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What are you talking about?"


    Kwon chuckled as he shook his head. "Remember the new tech the SIGINT guys gave us before we left?" he explained. "Supposedly, we¡¯re supposed to hide these things all over the place, and they''ll create a mesh network for comms."


    ¡°Ohh, right.¡± Coleman smacked his head as the briefing came back to him. So much had happened in such little time that he had nearly forgotten. "To be honest, I don''t really understand all that nerd shit. But if they say it''s gonna be useful, then who am I to argue with the crypto-spooks?."


    A cackle left Kwon''s voice as he looked across the room at one of his subordinates. ¡°It¡¯s alright; our comms guy had to explain it to me simply.¡± He replied after shoving some bread in his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll have him figuring this shit out instead. He¡¯ll get set it up, so all we have to do is hide ¡®em."


    As Kwon stood up to talk to their communications sergeant, Coleman''s gaze drifted back to Elijah. The medic was lounging by the fire, laughing and joking with the rest of the team as he shoved sausages into his mouth. For a moment, Coleman just watched him while a strange mix of emotions swirling in his gut. Frustration, yes. Irritation, definitely. But beneath it all, a grudging sense of respect.


    But while he watched, Coleman couldn''t help but mutter under his breath, "You''re in the wrong profession, my friend."


    To his surprise, Elijah''s head snapped around, his eyebrows raised in confusion. "I''m the wrong what?" he asked, his mouth still half-full of sausage.


    Surprise flashed across Coleman¡¯s face. Between all the chatter from the team and the ambient sounds of a lively tavern below them, there should have been no way for Elijah to hear him, especially when the man in question sat halfway across the room in front of a crackling fire.


    "Nothing," Coleman blurted out as he quickly recomposed himself. "I¡¯m just reminding myself never to let you touch a cat girl under any goddamn circumstance."


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    A confused look spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he looked at the people around him, wondering what he did to deserve being scolded this time. "What? What the hell?" he asked, clearly taken aback by the scolding as he lifted his arms up in a bewildered shrug. ¡°What the hell did I do this time!?¡±


    In an attempt to cover his slip, Coleman grabbed a nearby cushion and threw it at Elijah. ¡°Exist!¡± He yelled, causing Elijah to flinch and duck. ¡°Why can¡¯t you be normal, you freak!?¡±


    But before Coleman could get another word in, Elijah''s hand shot out, grabbing a sausage from his plate. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the greasy projectile hurtling across the room, straight at Coleman''s head.


    Reflexively, Coleman threw his arms up to deflect the meaty missile, but unfortunately, he was a moment too late. A wet smack resounded as the sausage bounced off his face, causing him to roll back and leaving a grease smear across his forehead.


    "Fuck you!" Elijah yelled back just before he caught a loaf of bread in the face.


    Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Yana could not help but scowl at the escalating bickering between those idiots while she nurtured her new minion nestled within the crackling flames. The noise seemed to go up an octave, causing the little goddess¡¯s face to scrunch in a mix of curiosity and annoyance as she watched the two mortals hurl insults at each other.


    For a brief moment, she wanted to zap the two quiet, but she couldn¡¯t help but be somewhat swayed by her Apostle¡¯s influence. Through the link she shared with Elijah, Yana could feel the swirling emotions beneath the surface of their seemingly heated exchange. Despite the hurled sausages and indignant yells, there was no genuine anger or ill will. It was a strange dynamic, one that Yana found perplexing.


    Even when she watched her apostle prattle on, his words seemed to be punctuated by vitriol. Still, Yana could only detect a vibrant tapestry of positive and negative emotions flowing through their bond. It was like a raging waterfall of rainbows, each hue representing a different facet of Elijah''s being.


    Yana predated the concept of mortal existence and had bonded with apostles beyond counting. But never had she experienced a connection like this. Was this a particular trait of these ¡®humans¡¯, or were the muted emotions a trait of the Fae? Regardless, her last few disciples ¨C damn their souls for their treachery ¨C had been like monochromatic echoes in comparison. Their emotions were muted, their essence a pale shadow of the vibrant life that now pulsed through her link with Elijah.


    For a moment, Yana scowled after recalling such a slap in the face. It was like a small simmering agitation that bubbled up from the depths of her immortal being. Damn, their treacherous and wretched souls. If it weren''t for the laws she had laid out herself, which governed the very fabric of this reality, she would have broken their insignificant prison and destroyed their very essence. She would unmake them, slowly and deliberately, until their agonized echoes reverberated through the cosmos long after this plane had crumbled to dust.


    But even as the vengeful fantasies played out in her mind, Yana knew she could never act upon them. Her responsibility, her sacred duty, was to maintain the balance. She had to uphold the rules and systems she had put in place, no matter how much it galled her to let such disdainful garbage go unpunished for their impudence.


    She was a goddess, a weaver of magic, and a shaper of worlds. No matter how satisfying, Petty vengeance was not worth disregarding the very order she had laid.


    And so, with a harrumph, the little goddess returned to the egg nestled within the crackling flames. Her tiny hands moved with deliberate grace as she focused the remnants of her power on the unborn being within. This was no simple binding, unlike the ones she had used to tether her lesser servants to her will. No, this being servitude would be bound in a far more profound and significant way.


    With each pass of her hands, Yana infused the egg with a portion of her own essence, a primordial power that predated the very fabric of this reality. This exhausting process drained her reserves even as it invigorated the nascent life within the obsidian shell.


    Yana couldn''t help but curse under her breath as she worked. A ritual that was to be as benign as thinking now made her brow furrow in concentration. All of this is due to a single miscalculation to the origin of a specific being¡­ A slight glare was snapped towards the individual in question, who seemed to look at her in bewilderment after sensing her displeasure.


    How foolish of her¡­ Binding an entire world and granting them power their reality wasn¡¯t structured for. Now, she had the ungrateful task of presiding over this new reality and effectively doubling her world load. The burden of managing this newly created system was not one she asked for, but it was a responsibility thrust upon her by her capricious whims.


    And yet, even as she grumbled and complained, Yana knew she could not neglect this duty. She had bound herself to this world and had claimed it as her own. And with that claim came obligations, sacred oaths that she could not - would not - break.


    ¡°SHUT UP YOU IDIOTS!¡± She finally snapped, barking at Elijah, who was yapping incessantly with that other mortal Ben¨Csomething.


    Another harrumph left her mouth as the two humans shirked away and took their chatter outside. But now that she was taking notice, Yana looked around and saw that she was the only one left in the room, allowing her to focus entirely on her task. Turning her attention back to the egg, Yana continued to pour her pitiful amount of essence into it while feeling the profound changes taking place within. The once simple vessel, previously bound by the corrupted magic of those upstart betrayers, was now brimming with raw, unrestrained power - a power that was bound to none but that singular life.


    But as her mind turned to the origins of the being in front of her, Yana couldn''t help but sneer as she thought of her sister, Tiamat. That scornful layabout who fancied herself a goddess. ¡°Mother of the elements¡­¡± Yana scoffed as she continued to shape the life in the egg. ¡°Bah! Mother of Layabouts!¡±


    Sure, her sister Taimat had power¡ªthe power to create life and shape flesh and bone to her whims, but Tiamat lacked the wisdom or even work ethic to bother guiding her creations in the first place. She was content to let them run wild and sow chaos without a thought for the consequences.


    As a yawn left Yana¡¯s mouth, she released her hold on the egg and zipped around in the flames to inspect her handiwork. The flames were getting a little weak, but she deemed the work she had done was sufficient for now.


    Making a mental note to get her apostle to add a few new logs, Yana stretched her arms out and stretched her nonexistent muscles. She had seen her human do it countless times, and Yana always felt a slight fleeting pang of euphoria whenever he did it. The action slowly started to become a small habit, just like many other weird eccentricities the man had.


    With a shake of her leg, Yana rattled the soot and ash from her material body before her eyes scanned the room while floating in a lazy manner. She couldn¡¯t help but note the mess of partially eaten food strewn about and the absence of any other occupants. It appeared that the idiot and his gaggle of idiots had left her without a single errant thought of saying a word. A click from Yana¡¯s tongue rang out as she turned her gaze towards the floorboard where her bound mortal lingered and immediately made a beeline straight for him.


    The fairy flickered in and out of material existence, phasing through the walls as if they were nothing more than an illusion until she materialized right next to Elijah, perching herself on his shoulder. The man seemed to be sweet-talking that one woman with the floppy ears, trying to simultaneously seduce and indirectly pry whatever bits of information he could.


    Another yawn left Yana¡¯s mouth before her radiant violet eyes met Mara¡¯s, who seemed in awe at the little fairy''s sudden appearance. The tiny goddess raised a questioning eyebrow as she sat leisurely on Elijah''s shoulder while one of her legs lifted before thumping on top of the other in a casual manner.


    ¡°Hahhh? What are you looking at?¡± Yana tiredly growled in an abrasive manner as she held Mara''s gaze with a bored expression. She acted as if she had always been there, and Mara had failed to notice her presence until now because for as far as Yana was concerned¡­ She had.


    The establishment¡¯s Madam''s brows furrowed slightly as she averted her gaze back to Elijah, who just shrugged as if to say nothing could be done about it. Mara suddenly felt that the diminutive pixie threw off her composure, and any attempt to recover seemed to make her even more flustered. Mara had not encountered a lot of pixies, but she had never seen one that just¡­ appeared out of nowhere before.


    Yana, for her part, seemed entirely unconcerned with Mara''s scrutiny as she yawned once more. Her tiny mouth opened wide, displaying razor-sharp teeth and exceptionally long canines. Don''t mind me," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Continue with your copulation ritual or¡­ whatever it is you things do."


    A tinge of red flashed across Mara''s face at Yana''s blunt remark. Despite her profession and the fact that she had worked as a courtesan for many years, the Madam was caught off guard by the fairy''s brazen comment. She struggled to maintain her composure, her usual air of confident sensuality faltering under Yana''s piercing gaze.


    Elijah, sensing Mara''s discomfort, shot Yana a warning look. "Yana..." he said, his tone low and threatening, "shut up before I take away your beef jerky."


    The fairy rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue again, seemingly unimpressed by Elijah''s threat, but still complied, deciding it was best to let mortals deal with mortal affairs. With a huff, she leaned back, using her arms as support while she lounged on the man''s shoulder.


    "Sorry about that," Elijah said, turning his attention back to Mara with an apologetic smile. She''s not exactly known for her tact."


    Mara nodded, trying to regain her footing in the conversation. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s quite alright!¡± She replied as the Madam straightened herself out. ¡°I take no offense.¡± Mara smiled sweetly. She was used to dealing with all sorts of characters in her line of work, but the dynamic between Elijah and his¡­ tiny companion was unlike anything she had encountered before.


    Sensing an opportunity to steer the discussion back to more productive matters, Elijah leaned casually against the door frame of her office as he locked eyes with hers. "As I was saying," he continued in a lighthearted and charismatic tone, "I was wondering if you could introduce me to some of the more... reasonable bosses of these gangs that control the inner districts of town."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 84

    A hum left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he sat atop a crate with a sly and devious smile playing on his lips. The man kicked his leg carelessly while his hands supported his weight behind him. Azeline leaned against the wall just to the left of him with her arms crossed over her chest and a pensive look on her face.


    The two had sequestered themselves in an abandoned alleyway, far from prying eyes and curious ears, for their inevitable meeting with a few choice gang leaders. This town has always had an infestation of criminality, but things have appeared worse over the past year. It was so bad that even speaking about the gangs of this town appeared to be a touchy subject for anyone Elijah had talked to, including Mara.


    According to her, the organized crime syndicate that had a death grip on the town operated with relative impunity. They controlled the flow of both legal and illegal goods, facilitated back-room deals, and kept the peace among the various factions vying for power. It was a delicate balance that required constant maintenance and a firm hand.


    But all that changed when the Imperial auxiliaries, or "feather lovers" as the locals had taken to calling them, seized control of Glennsworth¡¯s Guard Corp. These outsiders, with their strict laws and rigid hierarchy, had little patience for the shadowy dealings of the underground and cracked down hard on any overt criminal activity. This, in turn, disrupted the carefully cultivated networks and alliances that had kept the underworld running smoothly and strained the relationship between the powers that operated within.


    The heavy-handed approach turned the situation into a powder keg waiting to explode. With the Gilded Courier''s influence and power diminishing, the various factions began to turn on each other. Old grudges resurfaced, and new rivalries emerged as each group sought to fill the power vacuum left in the wake of the Imperial takeover.


    The final straw came when one of the Gilded Courier¡¯s leaders made a bold move to usurp another, destroying what control the Syndicate had left and shattering the already fragile alliances. This sent the entire town into a spiraling chaos of violence and mayhem as thugs and their affiliate gangs there, were once kept in check by the once powerful Association clashed in the streets.


    Cooperation, once the cornerstone of the criminal underworld, became a distant memory.  The violence had become so bad that moving goods, both legal and illegal, had become a treacherous proposition, with shipments routinely intercepted and stolen by rival factions. Merchants had to pay multiple hands to keep goods safe, but this soon became unsustainable, and anyone who wished to conduct trade within Glennsworth avoided the majority of the districts altogether.


    However, the Gilded Couriers still maintained control over a handful of districts, where their word was still law, but people still tread carefully. The mere mention of The Gilded Couriers was enough to send townsfolk scurrying for cover, unwilling to risk the wrath of the warring gangs.


    It was, in short, absolute chaos. And it was chaos that Elijah found endlessly attractive. For chaos bred opportunity.


    "it always seems to come back to your boss, huh?" A chuckle escaped Elijah¡¯s lips as he turned to Azeline, and his eyes sparked with mischief.


    Azeline shot him a side-eye glare, her jaw clenching with irritation. "Eli, Shut the hell up." She grumbled after letting out a sigh. "You always have something smart to say, don¡¯t you?¡± She continued, running a hand through her hair which flowed casually down her shoulder.


    This idiot was so annoying that she almost regretted coming out here to act as muscle for another one of his stupid schemes. However, at the same time, Azeline couldn¡¯t help but appreciate his impish nature. Sure, he was an outright devious bastard, but he was clever, resourceful, and, most importantly, reliable.


    Especially when he handed one of Einar¡¯s enforcers, who had helped backstab her and her team, on a silver platter. questions Elijah seemed to badger her with to fill in some of the holes in Mara''s story, providing Elijah with a clearer picture of the complex web of alliances and rivalries that made up Glennsworth''s criminal underworld. It wasn''t a complete picture, but it was enough to start forming a plan.


    Elijah leaned his back against the wall while his hands went into the large sack light pocket near his abdomen. A thoughtful look spread across the operator''s face as he contemplated the bigger picture of his current plan. It was fully formed, but things were slowly merging, especially when Azeline started filling in the holes in Mara¡¯s recanting of the local politics. The shattered criminal underground wasn¡¯t even the tip of the iceberg when it came to the complex web of alliances and rivalries in this new world. Thugs, Bosses, Kingpins, Nobles, Kings, and hell, even apparent deities were in on the action.


    "So, let me get this straight," Elijah grumbled with furrowed brows. "Your boss and another boss have personal issues and turned to infighting and left a bunch of disgruntled gangs to run rampant to fight over scraps.¡± He continued as he adjusted the position of his concealed pistol at his waistband. ¡°So now basically, the entire place turned into a free-for-all save for a few districts that only hold together hopes and dreams and a bit of money Mara gives them out of her own pocket?¡±


    Azeline offered a simple shrug as if to say that it couldn''t be helped. "Yeah, that''s more or less it," she confirmed in a nonchalant tone.


    Placing his hand to his face, Elijah pressed his fingers into his eyes to ward off the exasperation that threatened to overwhelm him.  There were really no words he could think of to describe how stupid all of this was. From what he could gather, Glennsworth was a critical junction for smuggling, and the fucks just uprooted it over a personal grievance. He opened his mouth initially and gestured with his other hand to say something, but he immediately closed it and let out a sigh.


    "Jesus Christ," he finally muttered, looking at them. "I mean, I guess it''s not unheard of, but that''s still really goddamn stupid," he continued with an incredulous look on his face. "How the hell did this all happen in the first place?"


    Once again, Azeline¡¯s shoulder¡¯s went up in a manner that indicated that this really wasn¡¯t her problem. "I dunno, Einar just kinda turned on her." She answered in a casual voice while Elijah stared at her as if she was an alien. "Indi had been feuding with the piece of shit since even before she started contracting me out for work. As far as I know, they''ve hated each other from day one, but Einar never let his personal grievances affect business, but¡­¡±


    A brief silence ensued as Azeline¡¯s hand went to her hair and started twirling it as her brain started to recall the catastrophic drama that had gripped the criminal underworld. ¡°Ever since Kjadnar left his son in control of this entire region, Einar''s grown bold."


    Elijah''s brow furrowed, and he held up a hand, stopping Azeline mid-explanation. "Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted her in a confused voice. What does that mean? Who''s Kjadnar, who¡¯s the son, and why was he left in charge?"


    A sigh left Azeline¡¯s mouth when she realized she was going to have to backtrack and provide some context. "Kjadnar¡¯s a bigshot Jarl that runs Gilded Couriers. It¡¯s kind of an open secret, you know?" She explained almost impatiently as if this should have been common knowledge. "About a half year ago, a bunch of conflicts started popping up all over the place, hampering his operations everywhere, so he left his son, Ryndelir, in control of everything in Aldenshore."


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Elijah''s brow was furrowed, and his eyes glazed over as the gears in his head started to say, "Half a year ago?" he voiced as a thoughtful look spread across his face. ¡°Yaaa¡­ ya, ya, ya! Okay!¡± Elijah started snapping his fingers with each ¡®ya¡¯ and pointed to Azeline when he realized the timelines more or less correlated with when the forces invading Earth retreated.


    Azeline nodded along. She had also come to the conclusion that this strange human and his people had a major role to play in that. "Yeah, your little war had a lot of unintended consequences. A lot of the smuggling routes and other operations were disrupted or put at risk, causing Kjadnar to have to deal with them. So now his son, Ryndelir, is in control of everything."


    Elijah leaned back against the wall, his mind whirring with implications as he processed this new information. The war appeared to have a much more destabilizing factor than he or probably leadership had predicted. The balance of power in this world must be a lot more fragmented and delicate than what his world was used to, especially when it came to governing systems that were top-heavy, such as feudalism.


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    Focusing his eyes, Elijah looked to Azeline as his hand stroked his small beard in a thoughtful manner. "So, this Einar dude saw an opportunity to take out your boss, Indi, under the son¡¯s watch," he mused, "but why did they torch everything in their little spat and risk pissing off Kjadnar? Couldn¡¯t they just backstab each other in the background? I don''t get it."


    Azeline looked up for a moment, a look of realization crossing her face. "Oh right, I forgot," she said, snapping her fingers. "Indi had managed to seduce and slip into Ryndelir''s bed. So that''s probably why that short dickhead Einar threw everything into a tizzy." She answered while waving her hand dismissively as if the complex web of interpersonal relationships was nothing worth noting. But for Elijah, it was the final piece of the puzzle.


    "Oh," he said, drawing out the word as the realization dawned on him. ¡°Oh wow. So this Einar guy saw that Indi basically outmaneuvered him by sleeping with the new boss, and the bastard decided just to flip the board entirely?"


    A moment of silence lingered between the two as Azeline''s eyes went up and to the side in thought. ¡°Yaaa¡­ That''s a good way to put it," she agreed. "I didn''t think of it like that, but yeah, that''s pretty much what happened."


    Elijah scratched his head in amazement. "Wait, you didn¡¯t think that¡ªOkay, you know what? It doesn¡¯t matter," he chuckled incredulously. "Wow, that made everything make a lot more sense¡­ and convenient."


    The man then jumped off the crate and started pacing. "Mmm¡­ Ya¡­ ya, this perfect¡­!" Elijah spoke to himself as he started to rub his hands together. "This is gonna make shit a whole lot easier."


    "Wait, what?¡± Azeline snorted, looking at Elijah as if he had lost his mind. ¡°You¡¯re not actually going to try and insert yourself into this, are you?¡±


    A predatory smirk flashed across Elijah¡¯s face as he came to a stop. "Of course I am!" He laughed as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "No one is going to expect a third party wading through the shit and ripping the rugs out from underneath everyone while they bicker and fight!"


    Azeline stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if he was serious or not, but the gleam in Elijah''s eye, the confident set of his shoulders, told her that he definitely wasn¡¯t. "You''re Crazy!" She nearly shouted as she moved to confront him. "Hold on a second!" Azeline continued in an outraged voice. "Are you planning on taking out my boss and using me to do it!? You saved my life, Eli, but I¡¯m not gonna turn on Indi! I''m out!¡±


    ¡°Oh please," Elijah rolled his eyes and grabbed Azeline¡¯s arm before she stormed off. "I¡¯m here for the lizards, not gonna mess with your little clique, okay? I¡¯m friends with YOU, so I¡¯m more than inclined to help Indi with her Einar problem if push comes to shove.¡± He explained as Azeline glared at him. ¡°I¡¯m here for the lizards, and I¡¯m more than certain your boss would be quite interested in working with us."


    A scowl formed on Azelines face as her long ears twitched in agitation. She wanted to rip into this idiot, but she couldn¡¯t deny the validity of his words. Elijah and his people were a powerful wildcard that Indi would be ecstatic to make contact with. But that still didn¡¯t make her feel any better with how excited he was to stick his nose into their business. So she held her glare for a while longer, trying to discern whether he meant them harm or not before letting out an exasperated sigh. As far as she could tell, his actions so far had been primarily directed against the Empire. There were a few exceptions, but the intent was, again, directed towards the Empire.


    "Yeah, whatever," Azeline groaned in a begrudging tone before crossing her arms. ¡°I believe you.¡± She flipped her hair and walked a few steps away before looking over her shoulder at Elijah. ¡°Just don''t do anything cute, okay? I¡¯d rather not run you through, but I will if I have to"


    Elijah started to laugh as he bowed his head for a moment. ¡°Oh come on, Aze,¡± He said, holding up his hands in a palcating manner. ¡°When have I ever lied to you?" he asked with his trademark charismatic smirk, knowing he was full of shit.


    Azeline scoffed and opened her mouth to lay bare just how deceitful this bastard of a human was, but before she could say a word, Elijah cut her off.


    "You know what? Don¡¯t answer that," He interjected, causing Azeline to burst out laughing and cover her face with her hand. ¡°I mean, maybe I withheld a bit of information and construed the truth a little, but I never full-on lied to you!¡± Elijah tried to say it with a straight face but found himself smiling as he closed the gap between them. ¡°C¡¯mon, you know who we¡¯re REALLY after!¡±


    It took a few moments for Azeline to stop chuckling, but eventually, she looked up at him with an amused expression. ¡°Gods, you¡¯re such an idiot.¡± She said before turning around and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Ya¡­ Ya, that¡¯s true," she finally conceded and rolled her eyes.


    But before Elijah could make another annoying remark, his earpiece crackled to life. "Heads up," Kwon¡¯s voice echoed out in a distorted manner.  "We''ve got one of Mara''s girls and 8-foot mobiles heading in your direction."


    In a fraction of a second, Elijah''s demeanor changed. His face turned serious as he grabbed the half-face balaclava that hung around his neck and pulled it over his nose to conceal his identity. The man then threw his hood over his head before looking at Azeline "It''s showtime," he said, slapping her on the shoulder. "They''re on their way."


    Azeline nodded to Elijah before rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles. She wasn''t expecting any actual trouble from this meeting, but it wouldn''t be unusual for her to need to flatten some rowdy dipshit who thought being loud and aggressive would get them what they wanted. These kinds of issues came with the territory when it came to bandits or thugs. Sometimes, you needed to slap one loudmouth idiot and put them in their place.


    However, Azeline''s hand still floated across the pommel of her sword to make sure it was somewhere easily accessible. While fisticuffs were the standard for dealing with thugs, she always was no fool. Whether it be towns or cities, the story was the same. Where the countryside bandit would usually turn tail and run, choosing self-preservation and deciding a mark wasn''t worth the effort, a thug was prideful, stupid, and aggressive. You may beat one down, but they were petty enough to try and knife you in the back sooner or later.


    Meanwhile, As Azeline prepared herself, Elijah continued his conversation with Kwon. The team sergeant''s voice came back over the radio, stating, "QRF and overwatch are in position. Just signal when you want us to engage, and we''ll engage."


    "Roger that. Kill the traffic." Elijah responded calmly just before his hand went to the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up a few times, exposing his concealed firearm to get a few more practice draws before their contacts showed up.


    Interested in the strange fighting style, Azeline turned and watched as Elijah''s gaze became intense before he fully relaxed. The man put one foot back and took a more casual yet guarded posture as his hand grasped his wrist near his lower abdomen. But, as Azeline observed Elijah, she couldn''t help but marvel at the way he carried himself. To the untrained eye, his body language appeared innocuous, almost harmless. He looked like just another casual bystander waiting for a meeting in a back alley.


    Nevertheless, she knew better than that. Azeline hadn''t known this man for long, but what she had learned over the short few weeks was that Elijah was far from harmless. There was a coiled tension beneath his relaxed exterior, like a lurking Grovemaw in the shadows.


    Azeline scrutinized every inch of the man''s body until she noticed a few fingers from his left hand hooked under the hem of his shirt. It was a deceptively casual gesture while his gaze remained forward, fixed on a few marred spots on the wall, as if lost in thought. But then, in a flash, Elijah''s unassuming state transformed into something entirely different. His left hand ripped his shirt up almost to his chest, and in the same fluid motion, he pulled a black object from his waistband. Before Azeline could even blink, he had the object pointed at the marred spots on the wall, transitioning between imaginary targets with a speed and precision that was on par with any mana user.


    Every hair on the back of Azeline¡¯s stood up when she saw that display. She knew what that black object was. She also knew the devastating power it contained. The woman had seen firsthand the carnage Elijah and his people could unleash with those strange weapons.


    It was unnerving, to say the least. The ease with which Elijah handled the alien weapon and the way he incorporated it into his movements... spoke of a familiarity with violence that only the most hardened career warriors and freelancers knew.


    But just as quickly as it had appeared, the weapon vanished back into Elijah''s waistband. And just like that, the lazy and goofy demeanor she had always associated with Elijah had come back in full swing.


    ¡°Dangerous¡­¡± Azeline murmured, narrowing her eyes.


    With a shake of her head, Azeline turned towards the end of the alley, where she could hear the sounds of approaching footsteps near the corner where they were lurking. She tensed for a moment when one of Mara''s courtesans, a lithe human woman draped in silks and jewelry, appeared to bow her head placatingly to the group of men following behind her.


    The courtesan then gestured towards Azeline and Elijah until she was abruptly pushed out of the way by a brutish pale-skinned human before fully rounding the corner. When the group fully came into view, Azeline took stock of them and noticed most of them were humans. There were a few short-eared sun elves like herself, but they looked more or less like ordinary thugs.


    And then there was the giant son of a bitch.


    Built like a brick shit house and covered with greyish-green skin that stretched over a frame that stood well over six feet tall, his muscles bulging beneath his leather armor. Two small tusks protruded from his mouth, pointing upwards, and he had long, intricately braided hair that nearly touched the ground.


    Elijah was the first to comment as he shifted closer to Azeline in an apprehensive manner. "What the fuck is that?" he whispered in a voice low enough that only she could hear.


    Azeline ignored him as her face morphed into a scowl. "Great¡­" she clicked her tongue, her eyes never leaving the Orc. "A gods-damned Orc," she muttered under her breath.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 85

    Elijah and Azeline shared a pensive look before their focus shifted from the literal behemoth marching towards them to the scrappy-looking sun elf woman with dark hair and a tanned complexion that spoke of her time working the fields.


    As the sun elf stepped forward, she clapped her hands together, a wide smile spreading across her face. Her short ears twitched slightly as she looked at her pale-skinned human counterpart, who simply scowled before running a hand over his bald head.


    "You must be the fellows Mara wanted us to meet!" the elf exclaimed in a friendly tone tinged with disdain. "I''m Ferei, and this is¡­¡± Ferei paused as she looked at the bald man with undisguised disdain. ¡°My¡­ associate, Brak."


    Arching an eyebrow up, Elijah''s gaze shifted between the two kingpins. He knew the type - rivaling gang bosses, each vying for control of their little slice of the town. They must have had some outstanding turf disputes or had a few deals go sour but deemed it too costly to go to war. However, the fact that they were here together, putting on a show of cooperation, albeit very poor, spoke volumes about Mara''s influence.


    Ferei flicked her eyes over Elijah and Azeline, calculating them. "I have to say¡­¡± she scoffed while narrowing her eyes. ¡°I was surprised when Mara asked us to come out here. Normally, we conduct our business in a more civilized setting."


    The way she said ''civilized'' made it clear that she considered this meeting was far beneath her. The woman¡¯s tone was friendly, but there was an undercurrent of disrespect. It was obvious that Ferei considered the mere fact she was dragged out of her haven to meet a few strangers that she thought of as nobodies an insult.


    ¡°But, I suppose we all have to make sacrifices from time to time," Ferei continued, her smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I just hope this isn''t a waste of our valuable time. We have much more¡­ important things to do, after all."


    Brak grunted in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Ya better make this shite boy or yer gonna have to answer to my green friend here.¡± His eyes bore into Elijah and Azeline with barely concealed hostility. ¡°Mara friend or not, I¡¯ll fuckin¡¯ brain ya¡±


    Azeline couldn¡¯t help but roll her eyes as she looked over to Elijah, expecting him to turn on his charm and start working his magic on the two gang leaders.


    With a disarming smile and a placating gesture, Elijah stepped forward with his hands raised in a conciliatory manner. "Guys, guys, guys," he said in a friendly and soothing voice. "I¡¯m not here to cause any problems, I¡¯m just here for business, okay?¡±


    He turned to Ferei and bowed his head. "And I think everyone wouldn¡¯t say no to making a coin or two." Elijah continued trying to simmer the hostilities down just a little. ¡°These are tough times, after all.¡±


    Ferei''s eyes narrowed at the stranger. "And what exactly do I have to gain by doing business with some nobody outsider?" she asked carefully. Any meeting set up by Mara always had strings attached and always involved power players, so Ferei¡¯s suspicions weren¡¯t entirely dispelled by the subservient attitude.


    "Aye, why in the infinite hells would we be doin'' business with some scrappy idiot too scared to show his face?" he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. His eyes locked onto Elijah and Azeline, filled with barely concealed hostility. "Coward or not, I''ll bash your skull in."


    Elijah chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. "Look, I get it," he said, his tone conciliatory. "Imperials clamped down hard, the Gilded Couriers had fallen apart, your alliances in town broke down, and everyone¡¯s at each other''s throat.¡± He explained, keeping his hands held in a magnanimous fashion with his palms facing towards the gangs to show he meant no harm. ¡°The few reasonable individuals, like yourselves, have had to join hands just to keep the rabid dogs at bay."


    He paused, letting his words sink in. "But it doesn''t have to be this way. There''s still opportunity out there, still a chance for everyone to do a little more business and make a little more money."


    A short, contemplative hum left Ferei''s mouth as she considered Elijah''s words. Times were indeed hard, but she wasn''t in a position to openly express that due to her already tentative position. With the lack of money came the lack of satisfaction. The lack of satisfaction came with the lack of credibility in her own gang, and she knew it was the same for Brak.


    "What you sayin'', boy? You think I can''t pay my boys?" With a hiss, Brak stepped forward, challenging Elijah while raising his hand and revealing a strange tattoo that glowed with an eerie light. "You implyin'' I can''t make money ''round these parts?" Brak''s voice was laced with offense.


    Turning to the hulking Orc at his side, Brak barked and glowered at the giant. "The fuck ye, doing filthy beast, daw yer damned weapon!"


    As the words left his mouth, the tattoo on Brak''s hand pulsed, causing a hidden mark on the Orc''s neck to glow a gentle red. The Orc shifted uncomfortably, a grimace of pain and reluctance crossing his brutish features, but he obeyed nonetheless. With a grunt, the Orc reached over his shoulder, pulling free a massive club that looked more like a log than a weapon.


    A thunderous thud echoed out as the tip of the makeshift weapon slammed into the ground after being brought to bear.


    Azeline clicked her tongue and drew her sword as she stared the beast down with disdain written on her face. it was clear that the monster could easily wield the improvised cudgel with devastating force, and if she was honest with herself, she didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d come out on top while protecting Elijah at the same time.


    Meanwhile, Ferei crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as a small smile played at her lips. This was exactly the kind of escalation she had hoped for, the kind of posturing and aggression that would out them as charlatans or push any negotiations they had in her favor.


    But Elijah seemed unfazed. His hands went low to the hem of his hooded tunic, and his right foot went back as he held his ground, but his relaxed disposition remained the same as he faced down Brak''s challenge.


    The action seemed innocent enough to someone who had never seen the man draw that strange weapon he kept hidden at his waistband. But Azeline had seen the man draw it faster than she could blink and she knew the devastating powers of their magical weapons. These gaggle of idiots would most likely be dead before they could get within hand reach of the man, so this just left the orc if things went south.


    "Now, now," Elijah spoke up in a gentle, chiding tone. "There''s no need for that. We''re all friends here, aren''t we?" His eyes met with Azeline¡¯s as they silently communicated and nodded at each other.


    "Ain''t no friend of mine, outsider." Brak snorted as he kept his arm raised.


    Ferei herself scoffed and rolled her eyes at the notion of him being a friend before going back to sizing up this stranger. "I know your type," she snarled with a voice dripping with disdain. "You want to come in with a pitiful amount of copper, use us as your lackeys, and then disregard us when it''s convenient."


    She stepped forward aggressively as her hand pet the dagger at her hip. "You''ll promise us the world, but in the end, you''ll just bleed us dry and move on to the next bunch of fools willing to do your dirty work."


    Elijah remained silent, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. Then, with a tilt of his head, he spoke. "Is that what the Gilded Couriers did to you?" The words made Ferei recoil as if struck. ¡°Because it sounds like you¡¯re speaking from experience. Fresh experience.¡±


    Enraged scowls formed on every member from both gangs at the gut punch, but Elijah wasn''t done. He had tried the diplomatic approach had extended the olive branch. But now, with weapons drawn and tempers flaring, it was time to play hardball.


    "Come on, let''s be real here," he continued with a chuckle. "You''re struggling. You''re at the end of your rope. You''ve had to ally with someone you hate," he gestured between Ferei and Brak, "and you''re taking your marching orders from a whorehouse manager."


    With her features twisting in rage, Ferei drew her dagger and started breathing heavily as she pointed at Elijah with a flapping mouth. Brak seemed to remain speechless with wide eyes at the gall of this stranger, considering he had a damned Orc slave in his possession. Around them, however, were thugs drawing their own weapons, unwilling to let such an insult go unanswered.


    But before they could give the order to attack, Elijah''s hand was already leaving his pocket. With a casual motion, he pulled out a single gold coin. "So let''s not pretend you''re not interested in business," Elijah continued, flipping it towards them.


    The gleaming metal caught the light as it arced through the air until the coin landed on the ground with a soft clink, rolling across the uneven ground until it came not too far away from Brak''s feet.


    Elijah had just made a power move. It was to show that he wasn''t coming to them as just another snake oil salesman looking to take advantage of their situation. No, Elijah was indicating that he was coming at them as a businessman with cold hard coin backing up his words.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°There are golden opportunities knocking," Elijah said as his posture shifted from conciliatory to commanding. ¡°And that''s just a taste," he continued, his hand floating back to the hem of this top. "A down payment for services rendered, if you will."


    A tense silence seemed to take hold as every eye was drawn to the glittering gold piece on the ground. For the vast majority of the gang members, this was the most money they had ever seen in one place at one time.


    Brak smacked his tongue hungrily, his hand starting to falter until it balled into a fist near his abdomen. Even Ferei, despite the direct insult, seemed to hesitate, her gaze locked on the gleaming metal.


    She wasn''t the smartest woman on the block, but she knew a precarious situation when she saw one. Money thrown around like this never came without strings attached. Whatever this outsider wanted, it was bound to come with a BIG one. Whatever he wanted would have consequences later down the line that she wouldn¡¯t even be able to fathom if she survived it.


    This notion also seemed to linger in Brak¡¯s mind. The man¡¯s greed was starting to overpower his better judgment. Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes fixated on the coin like a moth to a flame. But before he could get too close, Elijah''s voice rang out, causing the bald thug to halt in his tracks.


    "I''m a firm believer in the principle that a fair day''s pay deserves a fair day''s work," Elijah said, his tone measured and calm. "I''m not here to cheat you or to use you and throw you away." He met Ferei''s gaze, then Brak¡¯s. "I''m here to offer your life back. A chance to take back control, to be the masters of your own fate once again."


    Ferei''s grip tightened on her dagger, but she didn''t strike. Not yet. There was something in Elijah''s words, in his demeanor, that gave her pause. "And what exactly would this... opportunity entail?" she asked, her voice tight with suspicion.


    A predatory grin spread beneath ELijah¡¯s mask as he continued. ¡°The flow of goods in, out, and even through this shithole has been strangled to death.¡± He spoke in a mysterious manner as he turned around and started pacing, but still gripped his wrist tightly near his waistband. ¡°I¡¯m a consultant whose goal is to facilitate the¡­¡± Elijah paused as he carefully chose his next few words.  ¡°Restructuring of this town''s power dynamics.¡±


    The two kingpins scrunched their faces and furrowed their brows in confusion as they tried to make sense of the outsider''s words. It was clear that the concept of ''facilitating the restructuring of power dynamics'' was a bit beyond their understanding.


    "What in the infinite hells is that s''posed to mean?" Brak grunted in a frustrated and suspicious tone. "Ye here to kill them other bosses or somethin¡¯?"


    Elijah opened his mouth to respond and clarify his intentions, but before he could get a word out, another voice cut through the air.


    "He ain''t here to do nothin''!"


    A rowdy, rough-looking man from Ferei''s camp stepped forward, his face twisted in a dubious scowl. He was a burly figure with a scar running down the middle of his face and a mop of greasy hair. Everything about him screamed knuckle dragging scumbag, from his tattered clothing to the crude knife at his belt.


    "Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap! That''s all we have been doin'' since we got here!" He gestured animatedly in frustrated impatience before turning his ire towards Ferei. He pointed a dull, crude sword at the woman in an accusatory manner, "An'' you! Wot the ¡®ell ye be doin!?¡± He shouted in obvious challenge, shooting spittle everywhere. ¡°Ye ain''t done nothin'' but slurp this idjit drivel!"


    The messy-haired thug then jabbed an accusatory finger Brak as his eyes went wide and wild. "We got a gods-damned Orc, an'' there''s only two of ''em! The hell y''all doin''?!" Turning towards the masked stranger and his blond elven companion, the thug¡¯s sword now pointed in their direction. "I say we gut ''im! He must got more if he be throwin'' gold around like it''s copper!"


    Ferei''s face darkened at the murmur of agreement among her gang¡¯s members. Even though there was a blatant challenge to her authority, the small rebellion seemed to strike a cord. She gritted her teeth at the insult but made no move to intervene. The woman decided to use this impromptu coup d''¨¦tat as a test¡ªan opportunity to see what this stranger was made of.


    If he put this rabid dog down, then she''d know he was the real deal. And if the stranger fell... well, she''d slit her treacherous subordinate''s throat herself and cement her place as the true leader.


    As the gang hooted and hollered, the insubordinate thug started to get riled up as he started to swagger toward Elijah and Azeline with a lecherous grin on his face. His eyes raked over Azeline''s form, a vile hunger in his gaze.


    "And when we''re done with ''im," he leered, licking his lips, "I''m gonna have me a taste of that pretty little thing. Ain''t had good eatin'' in a while."


    Azeline, however, didn''t seem content to let some dirty mongrel go on about how he¡¯d force himself onto her. So, with a growl, she stepped forward, twirling her sword around to make a show of taking his head. But before she could do so, Elijah leisurely lifted his hand to stop her in her tracks.


    What happened next was almost too fast for anyone other than Azeline to follow.


    In the blink of an eye, Elijah''s shirt snapped up as he pulled a strange black object from his waistband. A deafening and thunderous crack caused the approaching thug to crumple to the ground immediately. He fell like a puppet with its strings cut, his body stiffening like a board before toppling over like a sack of potatoes.


    The thug¡¯s body posture didn¡¯t change as he hit the ground. His body stayed in its locked state before eventually relaxing while a rapidly building pool of blood spread beneath his head.


    For a moment, there was only shocked silence. Everyone stared at the fallen man as he remained motionless before their eyes shifted to Elijah with a mix of fear and awe.


    ¡°Gods¡­ he has a mana weapon¡­¡± Ferei murmured, hardly believing what she had just witnessed. She had seen magic before and had even worked with a few fledgling mages when the Association was still in power. But this... this was something else entirely.


    It had seemed that this¡­ mana user had just struck down someone without any gestures, incantations, or anything. The man seemed to just snuff out her subordinate¡¯s life with a casual ease that was terrifying to behold.


    Slowly, the gathered gangs started to back away, their earlier bravado evaporating in the face of this display of power. They looked at each other nervously while silently reassessing the man they had thought to challenge.


    Elijah''s casual demeanor had vanished and was replaced with a cold, piercing glare that swept over the gang members. His mood had clearly soured, and his eyes were filled with cold, contemptuous anger. "if this is the kind of dissent you allow amongst your ranks," he growled in a low and dangerous voice, "then perhaps I have chosen my potential partnerships poorly."


    Ferei flinched, and her face paled at the rebuke. She opened her mouth as if to defend herself, but no words came out. What could she say? Elijah was right. She had allowed this situation to escalate, and her authority was challenged by this dangerous stranger.


    Brak also seemed to be cowed by Elijah''s words. But his Orc''s posture remained tense, seemingly oblivious to what was being discussed around him.


    Slowly, deliberately, Elijah raised his hand to his ear. "We''re good; stand by," he said into his earpiece in English so the assembled thugs couldn¡¯t understand.


    As his hand came down, Elijah kept his gaze cold as he continued to assess Ferei and Brak, checking if he needed to drop the orc with a well-placed shot from a sniper to have an even greater effect. "I came here expecting to deal with professionals," he said, each word dripping with disdain. ¡°Was I mistaken?"


    The accusatory question hung in the air, but the only response was a tense silence. No one seemed eager to speak up or follow their fallen comrade''s example and test their luck any further, since it seemed the outsider was capable of doing whatever he did more than once.


    Elijah let the silence stretch as he scanned the group for any signs of anyone else stepping forward to catch a bullet. And after a few moments, it became apparent that there would be no further challenges.


    As he slowly holstered his weapon, Elijah glanced at Azeline and saw a huge smug smile plastered across her face. Shaking his head, he turned back to the two bosses, "You have three days," he said, casually bending over and picking up the spent casing. "Three days to get your houses in order, talk amongst yourselves or do whatever it is you people do"


    He then started to walk away, Azeline falling into step beside him, taking up a spot on Elijah''s flank, facing towards the group of gangsters. The woman kept her sword resting on her shoulder as she stared hard at the thugs, daring them to make a move as they walked past.


    "If you can''t manage that," Elijah called over his shoulder, "then I''ll find someone who can." he finished, leaving the gangs in a stunned, fearful silence as they disappeared around the corner.


    Brak slowly and deliberately stepped forward and stooped to pick up the shiny golden coin resting tantalizingly on the ground. He stared at it for a long moment while his eyes remained unreadable as he turned the gleaming metal over in his fingers.


    ¡°What ye plannin¡¯ to do?¡± He finally spoke, turning a hard gaze forward at Ferei.


    Ferei didn¡¯t answer immediately. Her mind was too busy trying to make sense of and process the events that had just transpired over the last few minutes.


    It was simply too much to take in.


    But she had to say something sooner rather than later. Ferei could feel the eyes of her crew on her. She felt their sense of unease and their growing doubt. They had seen her challenged, seen her authority so blatantly questioned out in the open. It was a dangerous position to be in. In this world, weakness was an invitation, a sign that one was ripe for the picking.


    She needed to act decisively and show that she was still in control, still the one calling the shots. But at the same time, she couldn''t ignore what had just happened. Couldn''t pretend that this outsider left her with no choice, regardless of all its inherent risks.


    Both Ferei and Brak knew that the promise of power and wealth was just as likely as a knife in the back¡ªor, in this case, a magical bolt through one''s brain. However, she still needed to say or do something, even if it was to buy time.


    "I haven''t decided," Ferei replied in a low but firm voice. "But I will. Soon."


    Ferei took a deep breath before walking over to Brak and plucking the gold coin from his fingers. "50/50," she said to her rival, not looking at him as she studied the coin. "Agreed?"


    Brak grunted, the sound neither agreement nor dissent, but Ferei knew he would comply. They were in the same sinking boat, and even though they had little choice, this was their only lifeline.


    Turning to her crew, Ferei¡¯s eyes went hard as she scrutinized them. After a few moments, the woman spat at her former subordinate, who was motionless on the ground. "Get rid of this piece of shite," she ordered, gesturing to the body with her chin. "And keep your mouths shut about what happened here."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 86

    The dining hall of Mara¡¯s tavern was dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles and the warm glow of the hearth illuminating the space. It was late at night, and the usual bustling crowd had long since dispersed, leaving only the six special forces team members, along with Yana and Azeline, seated at a large round table.


    Mara and her tavern girls had prepared a feast for the group despite the late hour, serving the table an array of exotic dishes, each more intriguing and appetizing than the last.


    The earthlings couldn¡¯t help but do a double take when Mara¡¯s girls ushered in with plates and pots of food. Everything was so alien, yet so extraordinarily familiar. It was as if these meals were a caricature of French or German cuisine, with thick cuts of sizzling, juicy meat similar to steak but giving off a vastly different smell. The aroma was rich and inviting, hinting at enticing but foreign flavors.


    As he stared at the dish, Elijah suddenly heard a small giggle right behind him. Pi?a, the alluring catgirl, made her way over, her hips swaying and her tail curling and uncurling behind her. She set down a large pot of strange soup, its consistency similar to clam chowder, but it was a lot more vibrant, almost luminescent. Chunks of unfamiliar meats and bits of iridescent vegetables floated in the creamy broth, giving off a tantalizing, salty scent.


    "What are y''all waiting for?" Pi?a teased, her tail gently caressing Elijah''s face as she winked at him. "It ain''t gonna bite ya. Eat up!" She grabbed an empty mug from Azeline''s side of the table to get her more ale.


    The scowl on Elijah¡¯s face seemed to lighten a bit when the catgirl started to flirt, but he still held an aversion to what was in front of him. On the other hand, Yana didn¡¯t hesitate one bit. She was smack dab in the middle of the table, squealing in delight. A moan of pure bliss echoed throughout the hall when she dug her tiny, razor-sharp teeth into her food, causing an explosion of flavor to dance across her tongue.


    More curious than the others, Bennett picked at a piece of the sizzling meat with a raised eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked in an intrigued voice before looking over to Pi?a before she sauntered away.


    Pi?a spun around and tilted her head before fixing him with a smile. "Oh, well, that¡¯s seared wyvern steak!¡± She said almost excitedly while her tail flickered with interest. ¡°Wyvern steak seasoned with both snapper spice and rubbed with tangos!"


    Azeline''s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, wyvern steak? Isn''t that expensive as all hells?"


    Pi?a''s smile turned smug. "Yep! A caravan of villagers had an entire carcass to sell, and we bid on a good bit of it!¡± She said proudly, taking a confident stance. ¡°Mara thought we should treat our new guests to something reaaal nice!" She turned back to Elijah, giving him another playful wink.


    Coleman''s brows furrowed at the mention of the villagers. He hadn¡¯t heard about any Wyverns being engaged while they were there, but as his mind worked, he mouthed a silent, ¡®Oh, right¡¯ when he remembered that he was the one that shot down one before they entered the village.


    With everything that had been going on lately, he had completely forgotten he and Bennett had killed one. There was even an instance where the villagers, specifically Donnu, were ecstatic about cashing out on the dead creature. Especially when they were offered a 50/50 split when sold. But Coleman had been entirely preoccupied with tard wrangling Elijah to really acknowledge what he had agreed to.


    However, while Coleman¡¯s mind was busy processing everything that had happened, the team began to sample the exotic fare cautiously. One by one, each of their faces lit up with pleasant surprise as they took a bite. The wyvern steak was much more tender and juicy than they had initially expected. The so-called snapper spice and tangos rub gave off a complex and savory flavor with a hint of sweetness, and the fried green vegetables were crisp and earthy with a taste similar to yucca fries.


    As the team dug into the feast, their initial wariness melted away, replaced by a growing sense of enjoyment and camaraderie. Ever the voracious eater, Yana was practically swimming in the dishes, her tiny hands grabbing morsels of meat and vegetables with glee.


    But even as the mood lightened, Coleman couldn''t quite shake his concerns as he watched Elijah and his fairy aggressively devour their food with a troubled look. "I know I¡¯ve asked you a million times, but¡­" he said in a low and worried voice. "You''re sure you weren''t made? No one else saw you take the shot?"


    Elijah paused mid-chew, looking annoyed and exasperated at Coleman. He swallowed his mouthful of wyvern steak and sighed. "Cole, we''ve been over this,¡± the medic replied, running a hand through his hair. ¡°No one other than who we were trying to recruit saw me. I''m clean."


    Coleman knew he sounded like a broken record, but they were deep in hostile territory, and any errant move could spell their end. "Look, you domed someone. I just want to make sure you didn''t leave any evidence behind that¡¯ll send looks our way."


    "Boss, relax,¡± Elijah responded with a tone that made him feel fed up with this conversation. He then dug into his pocket and pulled out the expended 9mm casing before slamming it on the table. "What do you take me for? An amateur?"


    Staring at the casing, Coleman leaned back in his chair with his hand coming up to rub the stubble growing on his face. He was completely baffled by how well this entire operation was going. Against all odds, against all his training and instincts, Elijah''s insane methods were paying off in ways he couldn''t even have dreamed of.


    As a matter of fact, his mind had a hard time wrapping around the magnitude of what Elijah had just accomplished. In a matter of days, the medic had managed to secure an inside man with the local law enforcement and establish potential contacts within the criminal underworld. It was simply staggering. The potential of intel that could be provided to them, along with an unprecedented level of access and influence, would cause SOCOM to scramble over themselves to take advantage of it.


    All that was missing was winning over a well-connected merchant, and they''d have everything they needed to establish a real foothold in this society. And Coleman was more than certain it was just a matter of time before that happened.


    With a network of allies spanning the key pillars of power¡ªlaw, crime, and commerce¡ªthey¡¯d be able to put their government in a prime position to navigate the complex social and political landscape on this side of the rift.


    But even as he marveled at Elijah''s successes, Coleman couldn''t shake the growing sense of unease that gnawed at him. The medic was becoming increasingly autonomous as time passed. He was starting to take risks and make decisions without consulting the rest of the team. It was a dangerous trend, one that was outright undermining him as a leader.


    Coleman knew he needed to rein him in and reassert his authority as team leader. But he also knew that too heavy a hand could backfire and damage the delicate trust and rapport they had built. Elijah''s unorthodox methods might be unconventional, but they were getting results. And in an environment where unknowns were the only factors, results were the only thing that mattered.


    The team leader leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand to collect his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes and heaved deeply before looking up at Elijah. "So, have you figured out what to do with these guys? How do we turn these contacts into actionable intel?"


    A thoughtful look crossed Elijah¡¯s face as he tossed a piece of that earthy green vegetable in his mouth. "Well," he said slowly, "I think our first step should be finding out where the Imperial garrisons are. We need to know their troop strength, patrol patterns, and routines.¡± Elijah explained as he poked at his food. ¡°Our guy inside with the guards should be able to hand that if we grease his palms."


    Nodding in agreement, Coleman had concluded that he had no choice but to let Elijah run this operation. "Good thinking. We¡¯re going to need to figure out their force structure for future raids or airstrikes when the offensive starts.¡±


    Elijah snapped his finger and pointed at Coleman as if he hit the nail on the head. "Yep! And now that you mention raids, we should try to get a read on who among the gangs and the guards are friendly towards the Empire and put the squeeze on them.¡± He added that before presenting Yana with a piece of the vegetable he was eating with his fork, ¡°Wipe out any Imperial collaborators who refuse to work with us."


    "Ruthless but smart." Coleman agreed. ¡°Taking out their eyes and ears within the town itself would go a long way."


    "We should also look into their supply situation," Elijah continued as he watched his patron happily crunch on the French fry analogy. How are they feeding their troops? Where are they getting their provisions? If we can figure out their logistics, we might be able to find some weak points to exploit."


    Coleman nodded, his mind whirring with the possibilities. "A few raids here, a few raids there... maybe cause some mayhem and frame a few gangs hostile to our collaborators." But as he said this, a deep frown played on Coleman¡¯s lips. ¡±What if the gangs you contacted don¡¯t bite?."


    "Then we kill ¡®em and find someone who will work with us," Elijah replied with a nonchalant shrug.


    He then leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and grasping his hands together. "From my understanding, these are the most ''reasonable'' players in town. And in the language of someone who brokers information and runs an establishment like this..." He gestured around the tavern. "Reasonable means when you say jump, they jump. When you say come, they come."


    A look of surprise spread across Coleman¡¯s face as his eyebrow shot up. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder how Elijah knew so much about¡­ alien criminality. "You''ve really gotten a handle on how things work around here, haven''t you?"


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    Elijah made a cutting motion at his neck, indicating that it wasn¡¯t particularly impressive. "Their world, our world, shit¡¯s all the same.¡± He replied with a chuckle. ¡°Racketeers are a universal thing no matter where you go. Plus, I¡¯m quick on the uptake."


    He sat back, taking stabbing a piece of meat with his fork. "But I¡¯m about 80% certain they¡¯ll take the bait.¡± Elijah then took a bite of his food and spoke with a full mouth. ¡°Mara¡¯s the type where there¡¯ll be consequences for not playing ball. A real eye opener that gave the entire game away when I dealt with her."


    Coleman nodded slowly, even though he didn¡¯t understand what Elijah was discussing. He assumed it was more psycho shit when it came to that sociopath. But it made a lot of sense to have someone so ruthless and calculating take the reign in the context of their new mission. They couldn''t afford to be sentimental or let personal feelings or moral qualms get in the way of what needed to be done.


    If anyone became a hindrance, they would need to be removed. It was as simple as that.


    "Alright," Coleman said in a tired voice. "We''ll play it your way. But we do this smart, we do this clean." He jabbed a finger at Elijah before grabbing his fork to work on his own plate of food. ¡°No unnecessary risks, no collateral damage. I don¡¯t want any more blood of innocents on my hands than I already have.¡±


    Elijah threw his hand and rolled his eyes. ¡°Oh please,¡± He scoffed as he shook his head in exasperation. ¡°I never killed anyone that didn¡¯t deserve it. Village chief included.¡±


    Narrowing his eyes at his medic into a glare, Coleman took on a more chiding tone. ¡°Eli¡­¡± He growled, wanting verbal confirmation from the man.


    A frustrated sigh left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he decided it wasn¡¯t worth the headache to argue any further. ¡°Alright, fine, fine, fine. If saying it out loud will make you feel better,¡± He grumbled. ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah. No collateral damage. I get it.¡±


    ***


    A steamy, searing fog lingered above a massive, seemingly endless primordial forest. The fog¡¯s tendrils snaked through the tree tops of the 100-meter-tall ancient trees and wrapped around the gnarled branches as if the mist had a mind of its own.


    Yet, this was no natural phenomenon. The fog was so thick and impenetrable that even the keenest eyes of the greatest of beasts could pierce its veil. And at the unnatural haze¡¯s source was a legion of mages spread out among the tree trunks, conjoining their eerie change into one omnipotent spell.


    Gestures and incantations melded into a complex tapestry of magic orchestrated by a senior of immense skill to sustain the spell. This caused the fog to stabilize at just the right altitude and temperature, throwing off any being''s vision, no matter what spectrum they saw. This left nothing but a dense and opaque expanse to hide the flurry of activity underneath.


    Mystics stood between clusters of mages, casting esoteric spells that shimmered in the air like an otherwordly thread connecting clusters of mages to draconic entities far in the sky. But while the mystics quietly chanted in their strange yet divine tongue, wyverns shifted anxiously between the trees. Hordes upon hordes of wyverns growled and snapped at anyone and anything in agitation as they lurked in the forest. Meanwhile, their riders did their best to soothe irritated beasts, but cramped in such a claustrophobic space, far too close to other wyverns, their efforts were often in vain.


    The air was thick with tension, the scent of fear mingling with the rancid smell of wyvern waste, making the situation slowly degrade with each passing hour. Every so often, a poor soul would have their life snatched away with a snap of a jaw after wandering where he shouldn¡¯t. One such case highlighted the issue further when a mage assigned to maintaining their steamy blanket above staggered away while fresh faces ran to take their place.


    The replacement, a lesser mage fresh out of his apprenticeship, unwittingly ventured too close to one of the giant wyverns that lurked in the forest''s shadows. This wyvern was a monster among his kind with dark grey scales marred with scars that spoke of countless battles. The Wyvern was as terrifyingly fast as its massive jaws, filled with razor-sharp teeth, snapped out viciously, ready to end the life of the oblivious mage in a single, brutal instant.


    But before those deadly jaws could close, a sharp slap rang out, echoing through the forest like thunderclaps. Eira, the sun elf commander of these winged beasts, had reacted equally as fast after seeing her mount¡¯s irritated gaze.


    "SKADI! NO!" Her voice was like a crack of a whip, filled with an authority that brooked no disobedience.


    The wyvern immediately cowed under its master''s rebuke. In the blink of an eye, its demeanor shifted from vicious and predatory to submissive and cowering. It lowered its massive head as a whimper escaped its throat. The only thought through the simple-minded beast''s head was that it had just endured the worst beating of its life.


    But even though her wyvern looked like the most pitiful thing in the world, Eira''s finger remained pointed at it as she kept her unrelenting glare. Her golden eyes were filled with a fierce intensity as she continued to scold him. "Skadi...! Bad! No snapping at the mages!" She hissed with each word dripping with displeasure.


    Skadi continued to whimper as it skulked away. Its eyes were usually filled with the feral light of a predator, but now it held a more submissive and pleading look as it gazed up at Eira, silently begging for forgiveness. But even in its contrition, the beast couldn''t help but shoot the mage a hateful and resentful glare as if blaming them for the scolding it had received.


    Noticing the dangerous look that promised revenge, Eira snapped her fingers and pointed towards its makeshift resting nest and away from the mage. ¡°GO! NOW!¡± She barked as the wyvern skulked away and laid down in the bundle of leaves and grass.


    Her wyvern was her most trusted partner. Skadi was a being who brought her back home countless times, but he still required a firm hand and an unshakeable will to keep him in line. The beast¡¯s temper was legendary, and his instincts were sharper than any blade, so any lapse in discipline would cause him to act on impulse other than her command.


    Still shaken from the near-fatal encounter, the mage held his hands to his chest, his face a mask of terror. His wide eyes darted from the glaring wyvern to its equally irate master, unsure which one posed the more significant threat.


    "T-t-thank you, m-my lady," he stammered in a quivering voice. "I-I thought it¡¯d ¨C"


    But before he could finish his apology, Eira whipped around, causing her bright flame-colored hair to billow in the wind. She fixed the novice mage scornfully as her golden eyes narrowed hatefully while a finger jabbed into his chest.


    "You thought!? You apparently didn¡¯t do much of that, now, did you!? " She snapped angrily, pushing the mage back with her finger. " These aren''t couriers wyverns; they''re gods-damned war wyverns! You daft, infantile fool! You should have known better than to get too close!"


    The mage seemed to shrink under Eira''s fierce gaze and verbal lashing. His shoulders hunched, and his presence grew smaller as if he wanted to disappear into his robes. "I-I''m sorry, my lady," he whispered with a pale face. "I wasn''t thinking! It won''t happen again!"


    Eira held his gaze momentarily as her jaw tightened with anger. Then, with a huff of frustration, she turned away.


    With a dismissive wave of her hand, Eira more or less told the mage to fuck off and go away. The man in question didn¡¯t need to be told twice and quickly turned to make his getaway and ran towards the cluster where he actually needed to be. The only thing that crossed the mage''s mind as his robes billowed in his haste was that he managed to escape the wrath of both the beast and its master.


    Shaking her head, the wyvern-commander lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval as she turned to one of her lieutenants. A tall, broad-shouldered Human with hair the color of midnight was not too far away from her, wearing an amused look. The man stood leisurely leaning against his wyvern, who wore a more curious look rather than an uncomfortable one that its kin seemed to have.


    Her Lieutenant shook his head while a wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You shoulda let Skadi eat him," he said in a deep voice tinged with amusement. "Would''ve taught everyone else a lesson they wouldn''t soon forget."


    Eira rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Tempting," she admitted, looking at Skadi, who stared vindictively at the retreating mage.


    Once it turned back to Eira, the wyvern went back to pouting pathetically, still upset about the earlier scolding. The creature shifted its large body to better nestle in its makeshift nest as its tail lashed against the massive tree trunk in agitation and let out a groan, a sound that sounded equally in part a whimper as it did a growl.


    "I know, boy," Eira cooed as she walked over to the beast and ran her hand along its tough scaly flank in an affectionate gesture. "I wish we could just let you do your thing. But no, The Duchess had to put me in charge of these careless idiots." She sighed, leaning her forehead against Skadi''s side.


    The wyvern, sensing its rider''s frustration, turned its massive head, nuzzling Eira gently with its snout. "And I''d rather not incur her ire," Eira murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "Not when she''s already in such a sensitive state."


    But as Eira stood there with her forehead pressed against Skadi''s side, she suddenly felt a warmth emanating from the pouch at her hip. Frowning, she reached in and pulled out a small wooden tile that was no larger than half the size of her palm.


    The tile itself seemed to have been made by a master craftsman. Strange and intricately carved patterns twisting and writhing across its surface as if they were alive were a design Eira immediately recognized, which caused her face to contort uncomfortably. It was a product of the Sylvan Weavers, specifically their artisans who lived deep within the heart of the Sylvan Forest, whose work was always imbued with a touch of the forbidden and otherworldly magic.


    As Eira stared hatefully at the thing, she noticed that the patterns carved into it seemed to shift and move in an almost hypnotic and complex manner. Another grumble left the wyverns-commander¡¯s mouth as her nose wrinkled in disgust. The magic contained in the thing made her feel a physical discomfort, especially when the carvings began to shift and write into the shape of a mouth as if it were trying to speak to her.


    Eira gave her Lieutenant a look of trepidation before she hesitantly brought the tile to her ear and closed her eyes, expecting what was to come. And when she did, a strange, unintelligible whisper filled her mind. Words of a bizarre and unknown language slithered through her thoughts like serpents. For a moment, her face contorted in pain as the sensation of her mind twisting and turning in unnatural ways to make sense of what was being conveyed almost overwhelmed her.


    Then, as quickly as it had begun, the whispering ceased. The writing on the tile ceased, and the patterns settled back into stillness.


    A disgruntled grunt left Eira¡¯s mouth as she prevented her lunch from coming out. "Gods, I hate that," she muttered with a voice tight with displeasure.


    Ignoring her discomfort, her Lieutenant looked at her expectantly. "What did they say?" he asked in an interested tone.


    Tucking the tile back into her pouch, Eira¡¯s expression turned serious as she slapped her face to ward away the rest of the lingering effects. "The next drill is happening within minutes," she said, already moving towards Skadi. "You and the entire wing, man the wyverns. We need to be in position."


    The Lieutenant nodded as he ran towards his own beast¡¯s flank. "Aye, Captain!" he acknowledged her orders concisely that befitted his station before turning his face towards the rest of their wing. ¡°MAN YOUR WYVERNS!!¡± He shouted as loud as he could as he began checking his gear.


    Eira quickly and efficiently swung herself into Skadi''s saddle as she watched him slowly rise and shake his head. She could feel the wyvern''s muscles tensing beneath her, eager to beat its wings and take to the skies where it belonged.


    "Here we go again¡­" she murmured as her eyes scanned the steamy canopy above.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 87

    Eira sat restlessly on her wyvern as her hand slowly stroked along the beast''s massive neck soothingly. Skadi shook its head impatiently, wanting to take off and get out of this accursed forest and back into the heavens where it belonged. The great creature longed to feel the rush of wind beneath its wings, but for now, it remained grounded, hidden amongst the dense foliage of the forest.


    Skadi¡¯s rider completely understood its frustration. Eira, too, felt the horrible ache of inaction. It was like an unending gnawing sense of unease that came with being forced to hide and wait. It went against every instinct she had as a rider¡ªthe very nature of a beast of an ancient lineage whose place belonged in the skies.


    But orders were orders. And these orders were handed down directly from Duchess Vyrrasha herself. And her commanders were not to be disobeyed.


    Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, Eira looked up at the thick, swirling, steamy mist that swirled above her. At first, she couldn¡¯t help but find what they were doing foolish and cowardly, but just like the others dispersed amongst the undergrowth, they found this new tactic offensive. It was uncomfortable, cramped, and frustrating, but even though they saw the value in such aggressive ambushes, the riders still harbored a great deal of resentment.


    However, regardless of this new tactic''s effectiveness, Eira couldn¡¯t but snarl in disgust as she looked around at the restlessness that permeated the horde. It was evident that a heavy toll was being taken on the wyverns by each twitch of a tail, each shuffle of clawed feet against the forest floor, and the low, agitated grumbles that leaked from the beast''s scaled throats. They all shared the same opinion¡ªthat this tactic of hiding, of skulking in the shadows, was near insufferable for the war beasts.


    Wyvern riders were the pride of the Empire''s aerial forces, renowned for their bravery and ferocity in battle. They always met their enemies head-on, in the open sky, with fangs, claws, and flames at the ready. But to be reduced to this... it was almost felt like an insult.


    But the Duchess had been insistent. So insistent, in fact, that any who refused these new orders were threatened with execution for insubordination, with their wyverns put to the sword alongside them. It was a level of severity that Eira had never seen before, at least not in all her years of service.


    At first, she had thought it was the overreach of a madwoman, a tyrant drunk on power. What could justify such extreme measures? What threat could be so dire as to demand this upending of centuries of tradition and pride?


    However, as a commander, she gained access to the reports and findings of an expeditionary force across the rift. A rift and an expedition she didn¡¯t know even existed. The insanity that was the intelligence gathered by the Empire after skirmishing with whatever in the infinite hells they were fighting had left her in a state of disbelief.


    Here Eira thought they were putting down some uppity rebels or launching a new offensive on the Sylvan Forest. But now she finally understood the reasoning behind these maddening decisions. Even now, the wyvern commander found it hard to believe and found the reports of the raving of a lunatic, but¡­ But the seals belonging to the Emperor himself made Eira have to take it seriously.


    The ability to strike from ranges beyond even a dragon''s eyesight with exploding darts that traveled several times faster than a dragon could fly? An omnipotent, all-seeing eye that violated every inch of only dragons'' and wyverns'' bodies that only the beasts in question could perceive? It sounded like the deranged and pathetic mewlings of an unsound mind or the ravings of a madman like Knight Captain Shaw.


    Nevertheless, who was Eira to question reports endorsed by the Emperor? If even the dragons, the mightiest and proudest of beasts, seemed nervous¡­ Then, there must be some truth to what she had read. For all her severity, the Duchess was not one to act on mere whims or paranoia.


    A cringe formed on Eira¡¯s face when she recalled that insufferable man. Shaw was a name that made her want to spit in absolute contempt as she wondered what her lord was thinking when promoting a man that had such an unsound mind to Knight Captain. Instead, Eira decided to occupy herself by adjusting her riding helmet and straightening her high-altitude jacket while waiting for the signal to commence the drill.


    Turning her head to scan the forest one more time, Eira¡¯s eyes picked out the shapes of other wyverns and their mounted riders hidden amongst the dense forest. They shuffled restlessly in the dense foliage as their heads turned upwards towards the canopy, longing in their eyes.


    While their wild Wyverns were used to laying in wait to ambush their unsuspecting pretty, their domesticated cousins found the opposite more natural. Domesticated Wyverns were bred to be conspicuous and were selected based on their size, strength, speed, and ability to bond with a rider to be the perfect aerial mount. However, selective breeding was a double-edged sword and removed certain traits over time.


    Domesticated wyverns didn''t have the disposition to hide and patiently lay in wait for the right moment to strike. They were instead creatures of action, creatures of direct confrontation. Asking them to skulk and ambush was like asking a lion to behave like a mouse.


    It made these new tactics difficult to execute. Every instinct, every fiber of a wyvern''s being, rebelled against this kind of cowardly tactic that the rider struggled to suppress and keep in check. The beasts wanted to roar, soar, and meet their foes in open combat.


    But regardless of how any of them felt, they had a duty to fulfill and the realm to defend.


    Eira was there with their eyes closed, rubbing the neck of her beloved Skadi, soothing him as he let loose a low, discontent grumble. ¡°Soon, boy¡­¡± She cooed, lowering her head and pressing it against his scales. ¡°Just a little longer¡­¡±


    Skadi let out a pitiful whimper as it shifted uncomfortably on its feet, wanting nothing more to punch through the canopy as it unfurled its massive wings.


    The woman couldn¡¯t help but to scowl. She could feel how unhappy her companion was, and she shared Skadi¡¯s sentiment. They had already conducted this drill almost every day over the past week or so, and every day, they were becoming more efficient, but it never became easier.


    Silence and a thick tension reigned throughout the forest as every rider and mount looked upwards towards the canopy, coiled like a spring ready to release. All were waiting with bated breath except Eira and Skadi. The wyvern commander kept her eyes closed as she stroked the neck of her wyvern in a comforting manner. She was focusing, honing on the sounds of disrupted airflow of something large pushing through the air at great speeds through the chants of spells and the growls of beasts.


    But soon, Eira caught such a sound. Her eyes shot open, and she grabbed the guiding handles of her mount''s saddle, causing Skadi¡¯s wings to extend in earnest. There was a veritable flight of beings seemingly speeding through the air just above them.


    Catching the cue, the rest of the wyvern wing under her command did the same.


    "Ready yourselves!¡± Eira yelled as she turned her head towards her flight, who seemed as ready and eager as she was. ¡°We make for the skies! You know your roles!¡± She turned her head in the other direction, shouting orders. ¡°Stay with your Lieutenants! Never cluster and listen to the instinct of your wyverns when they sense danger!"


    The atmosphere in the forest changed instantly. The angsty energy that had permeated the wyverns and their riders transformed into a taut, coiled readiness. Every beast and rider was wound to its limit, ready to unleash at a moment''s notice. The discipline of the finest aerial corps in the realm was on full display.


    Several tense minutes passed as they waited, each second feeling like an eternity. Then, Eira saw a figure scrambling to reach an elevated clearing with a large horn clutched in his hands. Without hesitation, the individual put the instrument to their lips and blew as hard as they could, releasing a deep and resonant sound that echoed throughout the trees.


    In perfect unison, every wyvern slammed its wings downwards, blasting itself upwards towards the canopy, bursting through it violently as it propelled itself skyward at breakneck speeds. Eira gritted her teeth as the sudden acceleration pushed her down onto the pedals at the rear of her saddle. She used them for maneuvers, such as the g-forces threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs.


    A skin-searing heat enveloped her as she and the swarm of wyverns tore through the dense magical mist maintained by the mages before ripping out into the cold, starry sky on the other side.


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    The temperatures caused Eira to cringe. The air itself went from a painful, searing heat to a crisp nightly chill. However, her cringe soon changed to shock when her eyes looked up. As she and her wing broke through the dense fog, they stared at a scene straight out of a fable. A horde of mythical beasts darkened the skies with their presence while flying high in strange formations.


    Eira and her flight had already conducted this drill several times already, but the sight of so many dragons in one place at one time never failed to take her breath away.


    It was equally as majestic as it was terrifying. The only thing that beat this sight was the contingent of large feather Seraphic Dragons leading them at the head of their formations. Their sleek and majestic forms streaked through the heavens at unfathomable speeds.


    The wyvern commander couldn''t help but gawk at the sight of the legendary feathered beasts. Before these drills, she had never seen one in person and only heard tales of the prim and proper Seraphics from the heart of the Empire. To witness them here, however¡­ leading the charge against the mock enemy force was a privilege she had never expected.


    But even her awe of the Serahics was soon overshadowed when she turned her head around to check her flight status. The sheer magnitude of the formations taking shape around her, punching through the dense cloud of steam in organized formations, made her swell with a pride that was hard to describe. Clusters of different flights led by different wyvern commanders popped out of the forest from every direction, with each group oriented towards their designated opposing force (OPFOR).


    It was a complex dance carefully choreographed by the leadership to most efficiently dismantle their enemies'' air power. The aerial tactics on display spoke of hours upon hours of planning and strategizing that would then be put into unending drills. Each flight, each wing, and each rider knew their role in the grand scheme of the battle.


    And then, as if on cue, the mages began their rites.


    The mage circle climaxed from the ground below as they unleashed numerous group-casted magic missiles. Various beams of various shapes erupted from the forest and tore through the lingering wisps of steam before racing toward the heavens. That dazzling display represented every color imaginable¡ªvivid reds and oranges, brilliant blues and greens.


    It was like a rainbow given form and purpose¡ªa violent spectral barrage that let out deafening crackles and hissed as it lit up the night. The beautiful display overshadowed the full moon and promised a horrible, quick demise as it raced towards heaven.


    Mystics were tethering these mass-casted magic missiles, chanting away fervently, slaving them to the eyes of Seraphic Dragons who guided them toward their intended targets. But as the pillars of light streaked upwards, Eira''s gaze was drawn to the targets. There, flying higher than any wyvern could ever hope to go, were a pair of absolutely massive Seraphic dragons that seemed aimlessly to loiter far above the main body of dragons.


    The first of the pair shifted itself gently to change direction, fully displaying its dazzling red feathers, which gleamed like polished rubies in the moonlight. At the wing tips, each plume was tipped with gold, creating a shimmering effect as the dragon turned. Its eyes were like molten amber, holding an intelligent yet seemingly lazy glow as if the beast was simply uninterested in what was happening.


    Beside it flew a darker grey seraphic whose feathers were like the color of rolling storm clouds. Streaks of vibrant yellow arced through its plumage, reminiscent of lightning flashing across a turbulent sky. Its eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to be a lot sharper and watchful than its lethargic partner''s.


    Regardless of how either of the two dragons carried themselves, they still moved with a grace that belied their size. It was as if they were like living works of art, embodiments of nature¡¯s elements.


    Eira¡¯s gaze turned from the two loitering monstrosities and turned back to the numerous group casted magic missiles that were speeding into the sky. Just looking at it from the point of view of a layman, one could tell just how dangerous these concentrated beams were, but as a mage conferred with the title of ¡®skilled,¡¯ Eira could sense just how dense each missile really was.


    For a moment, Eira felt a pang of worry course through her. The sheer destructive potential of these projectiles was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. But the wyvern commander also knew her worry was for naught. The outcome of such a deadly attack was predetermined, just like all the other drills she had taken part in over the past few weeks.


    The two massive beings didn¡¯t even bother paying the projectiles any mind. They snorted haughtily and cast what Eira could describe as layered barriers with soft bends in the path of the incoming magic.


    And upon impact¡­ the effect was spectacular.


    Each magic missile slammed into the barriers, causing intense and deafening kinetic explosions that shattered the layers of the barriers. Sparks from the impact flew in every direction, turning into a dazzling display of light that soon turned into flakes of magic that evaporated into nothingness.


    The Wyvern commander had seen this almost every day since she partook in these exercises, and each time was as impressive as the last. This was especially true when she saw how the two feathered dragons continued their lofty flight as if nothing had happened. It truly highlighted the distance between a mortal and a being of their caliber, which was like heaven and earth.


    Their scaled Draconics thralls were already terrifying with their physical prowess and powerful breath attacks, but the sheer magical mastery the Serapharic draconics had was truly horrifying. The power and control they held over the arcane always remind Eira of why their empire spanned so far and why their subjects feared or worshipped them. Seraphics were not just dragonoids but living embodiments of the arcane.


    With a shake of her head, Eira forced herself to refocus on the task. She still had her own objectives to complete and targets to engage. Gawking at forces far beyond her was not something she could afford at the moment.


    So the wyvern commander reached to the side of Skadi, unsheathed her blade staff, and began concentrating her power on the large focusing stone embedded in it. As she sped towards the dragons acting as the OPFOR at a lower altitude, Eira started to chant a spell in her mind to prepare herself for what she was about to unleash.


    Eira furrowed her brow as she mustered all of her brain power to accurately recite the illusion spell that the Duchess''s mages had literally forced into her head. The incantations felt strange on her tongue. They were of a branch of max that Eira had zero experience in, but it was abundantly clear that this spell was imperative for everyone to learn.


    As she began to vocalize the spell, a smokey white light whiffed from her focusing stone, and at the same time, the very same light lit up on every blade stave of every rider in the sky. The air filled with a chorus of voices, all chanting in unison:


    "Aear-calad, thar-giliath, maeth-alagos!"


    The words seemed to ripple through the air like a tremorous wave as Eira and her cohorts stabbed their blade staves forward. Some of the riders failed to fully actuate the spell, having their waves of mana fizzle out into nothingness, but most channeled their will and formed the shape they were looking for.


    A moment later, a dazzling amalgamation of light erupted a hundred or so meters in front of Eira, conjuring a rough mirror image of her wyvern flapping in the sky. The illusion was irregular, holding inaccurate proportions and a ghostly form that appeared mostly translucent, but the image was still unmistakable.


    More importantly, the spell carried weight, and the distorted airflow left in the image¡¯s wake caused Skadi to make fine-tuned wing adjustments.


    Impressed with her improvement, Eira let loose a giddy cheer. Her illusions, shape, and fluidity increased significantly from the last time she cast this spell. The wyvern commander¡¯s sentiment seemed to be shared throughout the flight as the swarm of wyverns had, quite literally, doubled in size. The quality varied¨C some of the actual illusionists managed to cast near-perfect replicas after tutelage from the Ducchess¡¯ mages, while others were hazy and indistinct like her own¨C but the overall effect was undeniably impressive. Where once there had been a formidable force hurtling, now there appeared to be an overwhelming one.


    Eira grinned viciously at the fake swarm ahead. She didn¡¯t quite know why this would be that useful, but the wyvern commander assumed it would make for an excellent weapon on the first pass with the enemy. Once they come to a merge, their opponents would be confused and start attacking the replicates while the real riders went in for the kill.


    As they flew towards the dragons acting as the opposing force, Eira couldn''t help but wonder how these tactics would fare against the invaders. Would these ambushes be practical or even necessary against them? She read of their strange weapons but found it hard to believe anything other than overwhelming success with the amount of Draconics and Seraphics on the field.


    However, as the thoughts of invincibility went through her head, Eira knew to step back and not let such foolishness take root. Instead, she focused on the growing anxiety that began to gnaw at her, especially when her gaze returned to the two massive and most likely Ancient Seraphic dragons deflecting oversized magic missiles like child''s play.


    Not only had those pompous feathered bastards bothered to show up, but they were also actively participating in these drills. To put the icing on the cake, they were even taking it seriously enough to lower themselves to allow mages to use them as target practice¡­


    If they took this new enemy that seriously, then¡­ their threat must have been significant.


    A chill ran down Eira¡¯s spine as she tightened her grip on the guiding handles on Skadi¡¯s saddle. She had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that something big was coming. But now, as she flew through the sky surrounded by the Empire''s mightiest forces, the reality of the situation truly began to sink in.


    If something was dangerous enough to drive a celestial dragon away, along with its contingent of thralls...


    Eira shook her head and focused her attention forward on a dragon that was a little over 2000 meters away. She didn¡¯t have time to dwell on silly questions. She needed to put these new tactics to the test and master them.


    "Isil-g?r, rad-anor, pilin-galu!" The chant for a magic missile spell left her lips as she shot her blade staff forward again, throwing a narrow red light toward her target.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 88

    Duchess Vyrrasha tilted her head while the dragonkin scanned the skies with her piercing golden eyes. She seemed to try to bore a hole in the sky with an apparent look of disdain before finally huffing in agitation and striding through the bustling encampment she set out to inspect.


    The air was thick with the sounds of construction as levy men, knights, and laborers worked together to reinforce the walls of what was the beginnings of a bunker. Every once in a while, the crackle of magic, coupled with thunderous crashes, rang out as construction and earth mages did their best to speed up the process.


    Everywhere the Duchess looked, she saw exhausted men and women running around to perform their new duties. The base itself was one of many massive sprawls of tents and temporary buildings quickly transforming into underground complexes, all of which were under her command.


    ¡°S-S¡¯cuse me ma¡¯am!¡± An exhausted levy man groaned as he stumbled past her, carrying boxes stacked higher than he could reasonably see past.


    Vyrrasha¡¯s protective entourage gripped their blades intently, glowering at the man. The only thing that kept the laborer''s head attached to their shoulders was the seemingly impassive look on the Duchess¡¯ face, along with their raised hand, which indicated that they were to stand down.


    A flaming huff left Vyrrasha¡¯s snout as she glared indignantly at the filthy laborer as he shuffled past her. The Duchess shook her head before continuing her own pace towards the commander''s tent, unable to believe the lack of decorum amongst the people in the face of their superior. However, Despite her ruthless nature, Vyrrasha wasn¡¯t so undignified and petty to stoop so low as to punish some poor wretch for the mere offense of arduous labor.


    It was another point of contention she would have to raise with this camp''s general. Seeing the rather unprecedented move of the men and women who harbored insignificant standing discarding their armor in favor of more practical attire was¡­ interesting. Champions, Knights, and ranked warriors worked alongside the common folk, toiling away with picks or shovels.


    Even the mages faired no better. Their hands were covered in the glow of arcane energy instead of filth, but they still tended to the same tasks. She had been the one to order that every base, camp, and outpost be turned subterranean, but Vyrrasha still couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at the method used to accomplish her will.


    The order raised eyebrows and sparked heated debates among her ground commanders, to the point Vyrrasha had initially questioned the wisdom of such a drastic change in tactics. However, she declared the order a noble decree that could not be disobeyed.


    No matter what argument her generals had made, regardless of how compelling they were, The duchess would not entertain any dissent. No one else could see it, but they were locked into a battle of death with no hope of help from their precious Empire. Everyone except Vyrrasha could see they had intended everyone in these damnable lands to be a sacrifice. An offering like peasants laying a babe to sate a feral wyvern, all for the sake of seeing how these strange new invaders fought.


    The Duchess didn¡¯t blame them, however. The people of these lands, even her own officers and officials, were sheltered from the fact that the royal family was only royal in name. Conniving, deceptive, and manipulative snakes whose only redeeming quality and claim to legitimacy was the blood that flowed through their veins, and even then, Vyrrasha thought it rancid.


    Vyrrasha''s lips curled into a sneer as she thought of the Empire''s so-called leaders. Those inbred stillborns had thrown her to the wolves and incompetent allies that weren¡¯t even beholden to her commander. Sure, she was given command of a decent amount of imperial dragons and ground drakes, but what good would that be if her flanks weren¡¯t protected?


    It was obvious they had set her up to fail while simultaneously her just enough to see how these otherworldly invaders fought against a determined enemy. That foul bastard Varian also knew that the Duchess was no fool and would heed battle reports from that curr, Korthax¡¯s ill-fated venture across the rift, and note the unprecedented caution in the Empire''s subsequent actions.


    And to make matters worse, The Duchess had just received word that she had apparently sworn absolute allegiance to her¡­ Emperor and had offered to make the entirety of the Savage lands her dominion to defend. It was, of course, Varian¡¯s uncouth plot to prevent any¡­ unwanted actions from one of his most potent political rivals and even as far as forcing her entire Family into this damnable hell hole.


    Her younglings included.


    The message had been loud and clear. Vyrrasha and her kin were to be the sacrificial lambs, meant to buy time and information for the Empire at the cost of their lives. The Duchess''s claws dug into her palms as she clenched her fists, suppressing the urge to unleash a torrent of flame in her frustration. She knew that any sign of weakness or dissent would be swiftly exploited by those within arms reach who wanted to put a knife in her back.


    However, at this current moment, her political downfall was not the most pressing matter she had to tend to. The issue of surviving the looming storm was her number one priority, especially when she and her generals had seized upon one fact. These foreign invaders had contested a celestial dragon and its entourage in aerial combat.


    Such a feat was not only extremely rare but also almost unheard of outside of legends for everyone other than the much longer-lived races.


    Regardless, the implications of such a report were terrifying if true. Losing control of their airspace spelled absolute disaster for ground forces. Their tactics revolved heavily around maintaining air superiority and using their dragons and wyverns to dismantle their enemies systematically.


    If they lose the air, what hope will their formations have in light of the enemy''s air power? They had to at least contest it, or else their ground forces would be worse than useless, and they couldn¡¯t afford to throw away any resources or manpower.


    They had to adapt. And so, they dug.


    Just outside the commander''s tent, Vyrrasha came to an abrupt halt, causing her escort to take a protective bubble around her as she looked up towards the sky. Above her eyes caught the sight of the hordes of wyverns soaring at breakneck speeds into the air, accompanied by pillars of light that shot past them.


    Each pillar of densely packed magic arced through the skies, manipulated by Vyrrasha¡¯s very own family. The young Seraphic dragons of her house kept their iridescent orbs pointed upwards as they felt the threads of Mystics connect them to the group cast magic and guided the deadly beams towards their designated targets.


    This system was as marvel as it was useless. There were no beings capable of connecting or manipulating magic to such a degree other than the mana-sensitive Seraphic dragons. And there had been no need so outside of the particular scenario of guiding magic into a target out of their reach. Because who in their right mind would bother with this other than Vyrrasha? She only needed it to hit targets that were supposedly out of reach of any of her kind. Which in itself was madness to the degree of being laughable.


    Ridiculous¡­


    Squinting towards the starry heavens, Vyrrasha''s superior draconic eyes scanned each spot of light until they landed on the largest of her Seraphic dragon cousins who circled high above, serving as targets for this exercise.


    The two poor souls were always bitter that they were passed up for the honor of being the head of houses, but the hot-headed temperament of purebloods never ended well when in charge of¡­ Well, anything really. So the honor had been passed down to her, a Dragonkin that held the blood of royals and gods.


    The very same blood that ran in the veins of that filthy degenerate Varian.


    As her face soured when she thought upon the source of all her misery and misfortunes, a voice suddenly cut through her thoughts.


    "My Lady Duchess," came the respectful address.


    Vyrrasha turned to see a sun elf man with long pitch-black hair that was tied into a ponytail kneeling before her.


    "Your Grace," the man continued, his voice filled with deference, "I am deeply honored by your presence here today.¡± He raised his head to show two deep silver eyes and a trim, rough beard that showed he had little time to groom himself. ¡°To have you personally inspect our progress... it is a privilege beyond measure."


    Regarding the elf coolly with her impassive draconic features, Vyrrasha harrumphed at the man before flicking her hand in an upward motion. "Rise, General Aelindra," she commanded. "Have the subterranean defenses met our specifications?"


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    General Aelindra rose to his full height and did his best to present a dignified presence despite his unkept state. He then looked at his aides hesitantly before bowing his head in deference.


    ¡°Right away, my lady¡­¡± He said, motioning for the Duchess to follow him before leading her inside the heavily guarded command tent.


    Inside, a massive battle map sprawled across a table, detailing the entire battlespace from the rift to Aldenshore. "Your Grace, at the core of our strategy, is a vast network of underground tunnels and chambers," Aelindra began respectfully as the battle map hummed to life, projection forests, roadways, unit locations, and estimated lines where they would hold.


    "Our geomancers and laborers are creating connections between each subterranean base, outpost, and potential point of contact.¡± The general began pointing at the 3d representation with his finger, causing each to highlight almost telepathically. ¡°We have theorized that the enemy would be stalled before they get to our actual lines, but should they break through¡­¡±


    The valley that contained the literary of roads leading to the heart of friendly territory was suddenly covered in fog. ¡°We have established small, heavily fortified positions, with trenches and tunnels throughout the forests that have easy access to each road.¡± He said, standing proud. ¡°These networks will be our lifeblood, allowing swift movement of troops, supplies, and mages without interference from enemy wyverns or other air assets."


    ¡°We hope to allow mages and mana-capable warriors to launch deadly attacks along key supply routes and roads while levy men engage the enemy en masse, bogging down the enemy with bodies while making our positions difficult to defeat.¡± The general then looked around towards his aides, who seemed equally confident in his presentation. ¡°We believe that this will force the enemy to engage these trench systems or be threatened by their mere existence and buy us valuable time to win the air war."


    Vyrrasha hummed with interest but raised a concern. "Putting fortifications and trenches in the middle of nowhere makes our people sitting ducks. I''m not fond of wasting resources so frivolously," she said, waving dismissively.


    Aelindra nodded. "We''ve accounted for that too, Your Grace.¡± He said, motioning to one of his aides, an older human woman, who stepped forward and saluted while bowing her head in deference.


    The aid remained silent, though. The human felt a lump in her throat now that she was in front of someone as terrifying and notorious as Duchess Vyrrasha. She had learned about her short temper and vicious tongue, and now that this aid needed to present herself, she suddenly found that the cat had her tongue.


    ¡°Y-Your grace¡­ The um¡­ The false encampments¨C I mean..¡± She stammered as she looked to her general for help, who gave her an encouraging nod. ¡°... Your grace, w-we have created false encampments and illusory forces in strategically insignificant locations while simultaneously camouflaging real ones.¡± She said after finally managing to gather her wits. ¡°By utilizing our geomancers, shamans, and mystics, we aimed to sow confusion among the enemy ranks during their advance and lead them down dead ends instead of towards important logistical hubs we are building in the towns of Brakenmere or Glennsworth."


    The Duchess remained quiet, patiently listening to the woman as she gave her poorly executed presentation, but Vyrassha still listened intently. Her eyes narrowed at the aide as she dissected the plan¡­It was unconventional and far from traditional warfare most of her peerage would be familiar with, but after her campaign against the Tauri, Vyrrasha could see the value.


    There was much to be desired, but it addressed their vulnerabilities against an unknown enemy with potential aerial superiority.


    However, something was still bothering the Duchess.


    It was like a nagging feeling gnawed at Vyrrasha''s mind as she contemplated what she knew of the enemy from the literal plague of otherworlds that roamed the countryside. Over her multiple millennia of life, she had overseen countless wars and subjugations, and experience had taught her that the most important aspect of war was indeed protecting your logistics.


    However, there was another aspect that most people in leadership seemed to forget, either waving it off as insignificant or beneath them due to standing. But Vyrrasha had learned firsthand that morale was the second most important factor in war, especially when it came to the conscription of the common folk. No matter how well you craft your strategy or supply your troops, it would all be meaningless if your forces weren¡¯t motivated to fight.


    You could be mere days from victory, and everything could fall apart in the blink of an eye if the soldiers carrying your banner lacked the will to see the fight through.


    Vyrrasha¡¯s piercing gaze remained fixated on the aide as if boring a hole through her skull as she considered the state of the men and women in this camp. She soon turned her gaze back to General Aelindra and spoke with a note of concern that was rare for one like the Duchess. "What of morale, General? How motivated are our men to execute these orders?"


    General Aelindra seemed taken aback by the question as his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping in the air. His hesitation wasn¡¯t lost on the Duchess and spoke volumes of a situation far worse than Vyrrasha had realized.


    "Your Grace, I¡­¡± He paused, trying to find the best way to answer this question as he shifted uncomfortably/ ¡°I¡­ must confess that the measures we''ve taken to keep the levimen in line have been severe," he began in a strained voice.


    The man in question seemed to gulp as his hand scratched at his beard subconsciously visibly. "We''ve¡­ we¡¯ve resorted to beatings and ration deprivation, your grace¡­ Specifically of those who speak of disobedience or show laziness.¡±


    The Duchess¡¯ eye visibly twitched under the answer as she stared at her general.


    It was just as she feared. They were cultivating an army that would rout at the first sign of difficulty, and Vyrrasha was more than sure that the battles ahead would be far more challenging than even she could predict.


    After a few long minutes of silence, General Aelndira¡¯s liege finally spoke. ¡°We''ll need to make some¡­ changes, General." Her voice had a twinge of disappointment, but she still held a steady and calm temperament as she issued new directives. ¡°From now on, the men and women of this military will only be flogged for overt insubordination and stop revoking their rations.¡±


    The tent had become deathly silent as the officers and aides gave each other a skeptical look, but Vyrrasha wasn¡¯t done. She held a single clawed finger to her snout, tapping her jaw as she thought more about the issue. "What is their current pay?"


    Unsure how to respond, General Aelindra looked at his aides as if trying to confirm he was hearing the same thing they were. To have a Lord or Lady interject themselves into the discipline of one''s own troops was unheard of, and he somewhat took offense to it.


    Nevertheless, he straightened himself out and replied, "Including combat pay, the levied are making 50 copper a month, Your Grace."


    A hum left Vyrrasha¡¯s mouth as her eyes darted to each tense face in the tent. Each one of them spoke of how they thought of these new directives. But the Duchess cared very little of what they thought as she continued to give instructions. "Increase their pay to 5 silver a month for each of the levied, 10 silver for anyone of the elevated station." She said to mouths falling and eyes going wide.


    Everyone seemed stunned at the order, including Vyrrasha''s guards, but she wasn¡¯t done yet. Before anyone could get a word, she wagged her finger in the air. ¡°As a matter of fact? Pay the families of the fallen 1 gold coin a year for 10 years.¡± She ordered as she began to pace.


    ¡°M-My Grace! You-¡± The general''s eyes widened, and he began to protest, but Vyrrasha held up a hand to stop them.


    "Stop. I¡¯m not so daft to expect you to pay them with money you do not possess," she stated, pointing a manicured talon at the General. ¡°I will pay them out of my own coffers.¡±


    Vyrrasha''s gaze then hardened. "I want to ensure that even the most lowly and vile to stand and FIGHT!."


    Aelindra looked stunned by the declaration, he thought the Duchess was touched by madness as he extended his hand to speak sense into her. "Your Grace," Aelindra said, his voice filled shaking hesitaiton, "You can¡¯t be serious? The sheer amount of coin required would¨C"


    ¡°Be silent, knave!¡± Vyrrasha hissed in outrage at being questioned by her subordinate. "The expense is nothing compared to what we stand to lose if we fail, General! A well-paid, well-fed army fights harder and longer than one driven by fear alone!" She snapped, criticizing his methods as her eyes narrowed at those gathered as if dissecting them. "We cannot afford to be stingy or reluctant to invest in our own success. Our situation is far more dire than any of you realize."


    She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room, noting the tension in her subordinates'' postures. "Let me remove all pretense about our relationship; you are to do as I  command, or I shall have you gagged and bound as feed for my drakes!¡± She hissed in unbridled fury, causing several officers to shift uncomfortably.


    Vyrrasha''s eyes flashed with unbridled fury as heads lowered from such a visceral reaction. The Dragonkin¡¯s plumage flared, and her claws ended entirely as she did her best not to take the heads of those around her.


    "Let us not delude ourselves," the Duchess continued in a low and dangerous tone. "The Empire has abandoned us! There will be no reinforcements, counter-offensive, or mythical hero to save the day!¡± Searing flames blew out of her feathered snout as she growled. ¡°We are fighting for our very survival and should act as such!¡±


    Seeing that everyone had been sufficiently cowed, Vyrrasha straightened her posture and retracted her claws with a harrumph as she looked down on her people in a haughty yet regal manner. "General Aelindra, see to it that my will is done. Implement these changes immediately."  Her voice rang out, clear and commanding,


    General Aelindra, recognizing that the Duchess won''t take even a hint of dissent, went down on one knee and deeply bowed. "As you command, Your Grace. It shall be done." He answered, making sure his tone was full of deep respect.


    It didn¡¯t matter what he thought about these changes; he knew if he gave one more voice of complaint or the Duchess caught a hint of dissent, his head would soon depart from his shoulders. He didn¡¯t quite believe they were fully abandoned or on their own, but it wasn¡¯t his place to agree with his new directives. He only needed to carry them out.


    The Duchess didn''t even acknowledge Aelindra as he prostrated himself. Instead, her piercing gaze swept across the room, taking in the other officers and nobles, silently demanding they do the same.


    One by one, they, too, sank to their knees, bowing their heads in a show of submission to her authority. Vyrrasha allowed the moment to linger as the weight of her presence settled over the room like a heavy mantle.


    Then, with a haughty huff that spoke volumes of her disdain, she snapped around on her heels, causing her cloak to billow behind her, and marched out. Her escort gave their own sinister and hateful glares before turning and chasing after the Duchess, leaving a wake of awed silence.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 89

    First Lieutenant Dupont leaned back against the cool walls of the rumbling of the Bradley Fight Vehicle he was riding in with his eyes closed, dreaming of being anywhere else other than this cramped piece of shit. Hell, the man would have preferred sitting in a deep, dark, and dank foxhole rather than being smoothed shoulder-to-shoulder with his equally cramped and equally irritated soldiers.


    To make matters worse, their mountains of gear took up the space they would have had to spread the legs. This usually wouldn¡¯t have been a problem given any other training exercise, but right now, they were simulating an assault on a position before supply lines had been established.


    At least this wasn¡¯t as bad as it could have been. They weren¡¯t conducting this maneuver in full Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical (NBC) kit. Just imagining suffocating in what essentially equated to a full-body BDSM suit and a gasmask while in a cramped and stuffy box with 4 or 5 other people made DuPont¡¯s skin crawl.


    However, the thoughts on the finer aspects of the suck were soon washed away by the voice of the Bradley¡¯s commander coming over the net through his headset.


    ¡°Lieutenant, I think we¡¯re coming into visual of a few structures.¡± Hofmann, the vehicle commander of this Bradley, voiced over the din of the rumble of Bradley¡¯s engine. ¡°Fit¡¯s the description of the forts the scouts found earlier.¡±


    DuPont turned his head and did his best to take a peak of the Commander''s screen, but the turret soon rotated, turning it out of view. A click of annoyance left the Lieutenant''s mouth, but he wouldn¡¯t take any risks, so the man switched frequencies on his radio and clacked down on his push to talk.


    ¡°Barvo actual, this is Bravo 2 actual.¡± DuPont said smoothly as he tapped the leg of one of his infantrymen and indicated nonverbally to get ready. ¡°How copy, over?


    "Bravo 2 actual, this is Bravo actual. Send traffic, over," the company commander''s voice crackled over the radio.


    The soldiers in the Bradley started to shift in anticipation as they racked their weapons and checked their gear. "Bravo actual, Bravo 2 actual. We have visual on structures matching scout reports of enemy fortifications. Preparing to engage, over," Dupont reported, his voice steady despite the tension building in the confined space of the Bradley.


    "Bravo 2 actual, Bravo actual. Roger that. Proceed with caution." The company commander''s response was suddenly cut short as Hofmann immediately caught everyone else''s attention. "Driver, stop! Infantry out in the open, 500!"


    In an instant, the Bradley stopped just in front of a shallow berm as it¡¯s turret swung rapidly toward where the commander''s sight was pointed. The gunner, Sergeant Kim, called out as their Bradley came to an abrupt halt, "On the way!"


    The Bradley shuddered as the 25mm autocannon roared to life, sending death and hatred down range while its occupants visibly stiffened. Everyone who wasn¡¯t a part of the vehicle''s crew looked to the door, wanting to get out, while Hofmann shouted commands at his crew.


    Without missing a beat, Dupont immediately clacked his push-to-talk button, his voice taut with urgency. "Bravo actual, Bravo 2 actual. Contact! We are engaged.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take much longer for similar reports to come over the net as other Bradleys started opening up with their own cannons. But a thunderous thump reverberated through the aluminum hull of the Bradley as a nearby Abrams opened up with its main gun.


    The bone-rattling blast seemed to overpower every other sound as the soldiers within the Bradley continued to shift and orient themselves toward the ramp. They were fueled more by the desire not to be cramped inside of a tiny box than the excitement to get out, and if DuPont was honest with himself, he wanted nothing else. He¡¯d rather be out there face first in the mud and rain than packed like a can of sardines.


    "Identify, Walker, 1000!" Hofmann shouted as his screen fixated on the shape of a wingless dragon. "TOW!" At the same time, the turret of the Bradley once again spun in the direction of the commander''s sight.


    Sergeant Kim toggled the Bradley¡¯s weapon system switch to TOW mode, preparing the missile launcher for engagement. "Identified!" he shouted when he saw the stationary four-legged monster. A moment passed as the TOW launcher actuated and maneuvered into place while Kim painted the target with his crosshair.


    "On the way!" the gunner yelled as a muffled thud echoed throughout the vehicle.


    Both the gunner and commander watched as the missile wobbled slightly in the air as it followed the laser''s focus.


    Just as the missile impacted the target, Hofmann toggled the switch to lower the Bradley ramp and looked over his shoulder. ¡°Go! Go! Dismount!¡± He yelled as light flooded into the vehicle. ¡°Dismount, we¡¯re in defilade!¡±


    "Dismount! Dismount! Get the fuck out of the Bradley!!" DuPont echoed the order as he began pushing the back of his soldiers, helping them squeeze out of the vehicle.


    The soldiered crammed in the back of the armored vehicles basically stumbled off the ramp with one unfortunate soul, eating it completely as he went face-first into the mud. As he tried to get himself up, DuPont grabbed him by his plate carrier and hauled him to his feet just as a massive and blinding fireball erupted from an advancing M1A2 Abrams.


    Soldiers from other squads started pouring out of their own Bradleys before orienting themselves toward supposed enemy contact and lighting up anything they saw. They were operating under the assumption that they were in a free fire zone, so anything that didn¡¯t look like it even remotely belonged on Earth was promptly dispatched.


    However, this training scenario was relatively unique. Out of the corner of their eyes, appearing from seemingly nowhere were hazy-looking humanoids sliding across the ground as if mimicking human sprinting. The strangeness of this new encounter only lasted a second as soldiers promptly lifted their weapons and riddled these strange light-based humanoids.


    Even DuPont couldn¡¯t help but feel an intense, uncanny feeling as he engaged these strange, new enemies, snapping his rifle from one target to the next. He


    knew that the Army had enlisted a few of those magic Bunny Girls to help simulate cracked-out swordsmen running at them, but he still couldn¡¯t help but find it all surreal.


    With the new threat neutralized, DuPont shifted himself toward the original objective of the assault on this structure. However, a pair of rabbit ears attached to a curious head caught his attention. He stared slack-jawed as bullets zipped around the protective trench line just behind where those strange apparitions were to show a curious head looking around.


    The lieutenant opened his mouth to call a cease-fire, but before he could get a word out, a pair of hands grabbed the ears from below, yanking them down unceremoniously and eliciting a pained squeak.


    Dupont blinked in disbelief. He was momentarily taken aback by the absurdity of someone doing something so stupid during a live fire exercise, like sticking their head out into the firing line. He shook his head and closed his mouth, imagining how badly she would be chewed out by whoever headed this exercise. He knew he''d have to report the incident, but there were more pressing matters.


    Turning his attention back to the primary objective and clacked down on his push to talk. "All Bravo elements consolidate on the berm!!" he barked, gesturing towards the mound of dirt in the distance as he pushed himself off the knee and took off running.


    As the Lieutenant and his men sprinted for the berm, he took the time to peer around the battlefield and couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the symphony of chaos. The cacophony of cannon fire, explosions, and machine guns echoed around them as he and his soldiers slammed into the protective dirt mound as tracers zipped across the battlespace.


    Looking over the top, Dupont could see a rough construction that vaguely resembled a castle, surrounded by dragon cut-outs with 25mm tracers and the giant balls of fire that were an inert 120mm round tearing through them.


    "Nelson! Brown! This side!" DuPont yelled out for his M-240 gunners and jutted his entire arm in the direction he wanted them to start firing.


    The two soldiers quickly approached their Lieutenant just as another platoon maneuvered to assault the objective. It didn¡¯t take long for the two gunners to slam their machine gun¡¯s tripod on the top of the berm and let loose a veritable barrage of rounds towards the representation of the enemy in the distance.


    As the M-240 team started suppressing targets, DuPont lifted his own rifle and started engaging any cutout he saw. However, as he went down to reload, the Lieutenant caught sight of the fresh blood within his own platoon. It was always surreal that he had to replace men that used to be  But what really caught him off guard was the sheer number of people that were taking part in this exercise. A little over half a year ago, his battalion had to make do with a severely understrength unit, but now¡­ Now, they were not only at full capacity, but there had been an overwhelming surplus of bodies clamoring to get in.


    The entire military as a whole had, In fact, been completely overwhelmed by not just veterans re-enlisting, but fresh blood pouring into the ranks at a rate never seen since 9/11. This, however, was a point DuPont contested. He knew things were a lot worse.


    He had learned through the grapevine that the entire onboarding apparatus for the military was so overburdened that new recruits were fighting tooth and nail for just a chance to sign a contract within the year. This wasn¡¯t even taking into consideration having to deal with Military Entrance Processing Stations and shipping out. These were just verbal promises.


    The lieutenant couldn''t help but reflect on the reasons behind this surge. The attack on American soil, the first since 9/11, had spurred the population into a frenzied bloodlust. But there was more to it than that. Dupont''s eyes fell on a few choice members of his platoon - individuals who, in another time, might never have considered military service. The promise of elves, goblins, and cat girls had attracted a whole new demographic to the armed forces.


    Nevertheless, His musings were soon interrupted by a deafening rocket barrage of an Apache helicopter laying waste to a far-away position before veering off.


    Snapping back to reality, Dupont turned his attention back to the training exercise and began re-engaging targets when he heard his company commander shouting over the net. "DuPont! Get your boys on that wall and support the breach!" His company commander ordered


    "Roger that!" Dupont replied, pressing down on his push-to-talk button.


    Taking the initiative, DuPont then rolled over and made his way over to Staff Sergeant Takashi. He smacked his shoulder a few times to get his attention. ¡°Takashi! Have you and your squad stay here and provide support by fire!¡± He ordered, but before his Staff Sergeant could answer, the Lieutenant jumped up on top of the Berm and repeatedly made a chopping motion toward the supposed fortress.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Get the fuck up! Let¡¯s move!¡± He shouted at his men as he marched across the berm, grabbing his men''s kit and hauling them up. ¡°Alpha, Bravo, bound up!"


    In unison, the platoon clambered over their cover and joined their Lieutenant in a dead sprint across open terrain as Takashi and his squad began to dump everything they had down range. As the men of Bravo 2 made their assault, the assistant gunner, Brown of the M-240 crew, kept a watchful eye on his comrades as he hovered over his Nelson gunner. The man threw out his thumb and pink outwards and jutted his arm toward the Lieutenant, using his fingers to measure his location and the outgoing tracers of the barking gun.


    Cutouts representing guards on the ground and palisades were nearly cut in half by the barrage of incoming fire from DuPont¡¯s supporting platoon and several other platoons that were creating hell on earth. But as DuPont reached the zenith of Brown¡¯s pinky, the assistant gunner slapped the side of Nelson¡¯s head. ¡°SHIFT FIRE!¡± He yelled as his gunner kept squeezing the trigger but maneuvered his weapon further away from the rest of his platoon that was performing their assault.


    DuPont and his men were hauling ass across the open field when the Lieutenant finally noticed a contingent of French troops also bounding their way toward the objective. But, they did so under cover of their 6-wheeled armored personnel carriers, VBMR Griffons, and ran parallel to DuPont¡¯s platoon across no man¡¯s land.


    As the horde of soldiers closed the distance with the fort, DuPont looked up to see that Apache was making another pass. It launched another volley of rockets, but before veering off, the droning sound of its main cannon cut away at whatever it was shooting at just before disappearing from view when DuPont hit the wall.


    The mock battle had hit a fevered pitch as everyone, and everything was oriented in supporting the assault. A cacophony of gunfire, explosions, and shouting echoed around as DuPont navigated his way around the crowded wall as American soldiers peered around the corners of the wall, suppressing whoever or whatever was in the distance.


    When DuPont finally reached the cluster of soldiers he was looking for, a group of sappers who were fussing with charges along the wall jogged over to see what the next steps were.


    Before he could get a word out, though, one of the sappers, a Hispanic woman, turned to the group of platoon leader grouping around them. "We¡¯re almost ready to blow it!" She yelled as she manipulated some detcord.


    At this point, the French had finally joined them, and their Lieutenant approached Dupont, jogged over as his "What is ze plan!?" The French Lieutenant yelled with a thick accent


    The lead Sapper, First Sergeant Adams, turned and began laying out the plan. ¡°Alright, we''ve got charges set on two wall sections.¡± He yelled as loud as he could over the din of battle. ¡°Once they blow, You guys gotta go in hard and fast!! You French boy, you take the Right breach and immediately head for the main structure!¡± He then turned to DuPont and his sister platoon¡¯s Lieutenant. ¡°You boys take the right and secure the courtyard!¡±


    The French lieutenant nodded, "Compris! We will take ze right breach!"


    Adams continued, "We got drones watching what''s inside!¡± He pointed towards the quadcopter high in the sky. ¡°Looks to be heavy resistance inside, so you fire and check your corners! We blow it in 30!"


    "Understood!" Dupont acknowledged as he looked ahead to see of his last squad bolting to his position with another company covering their approach.


    Just as they reached the fort, the female sapper turned around and screamed,  "Breach in twenty seconds!"


    The French lieutenant turned to his men, rapidly relaying the information in French as he motioned for them to start backing up. DuPont and his men did the same as the sappers began wheeling the reel of detcord.


    "Ten seconds!" The female sapper gave one last call as everyone readied themselves, angling their heads downward so their Kevlar helmets would take any debris that might fly in their direction.


    "Three... two... one¡­! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!" The call rang out, and two earth-shattering explosions rocked the battlefield.


    The infantry¡¯s reaction was immediate. The soldiers didn¡¯t even bother shaking off the concussive force they just endured and sprinted towards the openings without a hint of hesitation. Dupont didn''t even have to give instructions as several of his soldiers pulled the pins on flashbangs and tossed them through the breaches just before the pointman made entry.


    An uncountable amount of small explosions echoed from within the makeshift fort and a second later, gunfire erupted as the soldiers threw themselves inside as fast as they could. The men fanned out, laying waste to cardboard cut-outs and other strange silhouettes shaped like whatever enemy they found during the initial invasion.


    The Army Corps of Engineers had created a rough but effective replica of a fantasy fortress for this exercise from the details from raids on the other side of the rift. The exterior walls were made of reinforced plywood and sandbags, painted to resemble stone. The courtyard beyond was a maze of obstacles designed to simulate the layout of a castle laden with the occupants equipment.


    Wooden structures representing keeps and towers dotted the courtyard and their windows filled with pop-up targets. Hay bales and overturned carts were strewn about to represent defenders making their own cover to repel attackers and in one corner, a raised platform simulated a wizard''s tower, complete with cardboard cut-outs of robed figures casting ¡®spells.¡¯


    "Clear left!"


    "Watch that tower!"


    "Movement second floor!"


    Soldiers yelled commands and concise situation reports as they quickly and efficiently moved through the courtyard. The targets within the building itself were completely obliterated as bullets ripped them to shreds, and soldiers tore away at the targets to indicate they were neutralized. In what seemed like a flash, the courtyard was flooded with people as the French troops mirrored the Americans, firing and maneuvering toward the keep proper to overrun it quickly.


    Once inside the fortress, Dupont spotted more elaborate setups all over the place. One area was filled with strobe lights and fog machines representing magical effects. Another area represented strange, large beasts and obstacles spread throughout the courtyard that required the soldiers to navigate through.


    Despite the fantastical elements, the exercise remained grounded in the tactics that soldiers were already intimately familiar with. A few changes had been made to account for the more melee-centric warfare they were more than likely to encounter, but the essence of this new standard operating procedure (SOP) remained the same.


    At least for now.


    Regardless of what SOP the assault teams honed their muscle memory on, they kept in the back of their minds that actual combat would be absolutely nothing like their training. Even as they hit their corners hard, the men of the American and French brigades taking part in this exercise knew that all of it would go out the window on first contact and new SOPs would be learned in blood.


    However, no matter what they drilled, one core operational philosophy remained true: Speed, surprise, and the violence of action were the only dogmas they could rely on in combat.


    It wasn¡¯t long before DuPont¡¯s Platoon and the other American forces secured the courtyard, enabling the French to clear the first compound''s bottom floors systematically. With the open secured, more soldiers flooded through the breached walls, and teams quickly organized to assault other buildings spread throughout the fort. Along with the infantry were the French Griffons, who barrelled through the larger opening and into the courtyard, adding another layer of firepower as their turrets swiveled to potential threat areas.


    With the courtyard under control, DuPont turned to watch as the upper floors were slowly and methodically cleared, with rifles, machine guns, and cannons pointed at every window. It was a surreal experience, like witnessing a symphony of orchestrated chaos. Explosions from grenades were tossed into rooms reverated through the wood and stone, gunfire echoing out of the windows and silhouettes from soldiers, pieing room painted an orderly discord that was almost hypnotic.


    Every individual unit, from the company level all the way down to the fireteam, acted independently yet almost in lockstep as they worked.


    DuPont couldn¡¯t help but think about one particular sentiment that was universal across the Military, but it was especially true for the Army. Leadership in the armed forces could ruin anything, including a day out to the beach. But when it came to combat¡­ They truly knew how to party.


    Just as that thought crossed his mind, shouts from inside the structure reached the Lieutenant¡¯s ears as the team leaders from the assaulting units slowly called out that their buildings were clear over the net. Soon, it became apparent that they had completed their objective and had completely overrun the fort, so their initial role in this specific battle came to a close, and now they were awaiting further orders.


    However, the sounds of exercise continued to rage as heavy weaponry continued to fill the air with its awful noise. Cannons bellowed tracks rumbles and explosions shook the ground as more American French troops maneuvered throughout the training grounds.


    He came to a stand and allowed himself a moment to take a breath as his eyes swept over to the ''casualties'' scattered throughout the courtyard. Medics swarmed all around them, treating simulated wounds, trying to build some more practical muscle memory before the real deal kicked off.


    As Dupont surveyed the shoddily constructed fort, Staff Sergeant Takashi made his way over with an impassive look. ¡°Sir, what do you think are the chances of us actually taking over¡­ castles like this on the other side?" The squad leader asked in a tone that was mixed with curiosity and skepticism. "You think they set up their defenses with fucking light strobes and dry ice?"


    The Lieutenant snorted as his eyes scanned the setup around them - the lights and fog machines simulating magical effects felt more like they were having a rave than¡­ being a representation of wherever the hell they were destined to go. "Fuck no," he replied, his voice gruff. "Intel''s been all over the place. One minute they''re talking about medieval castles and then trenches, but now we¡¯re hearing some bullshit about giant floating buildings."


    Takashi¡¯s eyes fluttered momentarily as if he were experiencing mental overload. At first, he thought the lieutenant was joking around, but DuPont''s severe expression told of another story.


    "What? Like a fucking... airship or something?" Takashi''s face scrunched up in disbelief, as if the very concept was causing him physical pain to imagine.


    Dupont''s face was a mask of resigned confusion as he just shrugged. "Hell if I know. Command''s been switching up what we should expect on the other side every other goddamn day.¡± He basically spat. ¡°There''s no way to get a handle on whatever in the hell is happening over there."


    As they spoke, several more vehicles slowly made their way through the massive holes they''d blown in the fort''s walls. Now that the fort had been secured, medics and idle soldiers ran around to set up a makeshift casualty collection point.


    Peering around further, DuPont watched the scattered remains of what he assumed was a castle quickly turn into a hub of organized chaos as medics and support staff rushed to erect tents. "You know what?" he suddenly spoke, turning to his Staff Sergeant. "I can¡¯t even say that I would be surprised if we up end up finding out fairies and the wizard of fuckin¡¯ Oz is real or some shit." He grumbled while reaching into his pouch and pulled out a fresh magazine


    ¡°Imagine finding if we find The Tin Man or Dorothy there.¡± The Lieutenant chuckled before he caught the sight of their company commander, Major Ward, striding purposefully towards them.


    Ward''s face was the very definition of incredulity as he marched over, throwing his hands around, barking at soldiers around him in a flustered fashion. "Get your shit together! We''re moving out!" His voice carried over the din of battle, sharp and commanding.


    Turning to Dupont, Ward''s tone didn''t soften. "DuPont! Link back up with your Bradleys! We''ve got new tasking!"


    Dupont nodded sharply, his mind already shifting gears. "Roger that, sir. What are we hitting?" He replied, slapping the new mag in his rifle.


    The Major opened his mouth for a moment before closing it. He didn¡¯t quite want to say it for fear of sounding like a crazy person, but orders were orders. ¡°Intel has picked up something big. We are to simulate an assault on a¡­¡± He paused before his eye twitched. ¡°Floating fortress.¡±


    A heavy silence fell over the three men as they stood there, staring at each other awkwardly. The absurdity of what was just said seemed to be in the air like a dense fog. Ward''s eye started to twitch slightly, Takashi''s seemed to cringe slightly, and Dupont''s face remained frozen in his best attempt to keep the insanity from getting to him.


    "Roger that, sir." DuPont was the first to break the uncomfortable silence as he pretended it was the most logical order to be given. He deemed that just sweeping the ridiculousness of ¡®attacking a floating fortress¡¯ under the rug and handling it with as much professional decorum as possible was the correct path forward.


    The near-casual and absurd acknowledgment seemed to snap both Major Ward and Staff Sergeant Takashi back to reality as the two shifted to start moving. Ward gave a curt nod, clearly grateful for Dupont''s ability to roll with the punches, and marched off to organize the rest of his men. While Takashi just stood there, unsure of what to do next


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Takashi voiced his disbelief.


    Once again, DuPont simply threw up his hands as if he had already given up long ago and walked off to get to work.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 90

    ¡°Mmm¡­This is it¡­¡± Toivonen hummed with interest as she sat in the passenger seat of a car, pouring over the latest reports from her special operations team. ¡°We need to debrief these guys¡­¡±


    The world seemed to blur past her as Toivonen scrolled through her phone with hunger in her eyes and marveled at how this ODA team single-handedly outperformed every one of her paramilitary officers. She didn¡¯t know if their actions were intentional or not, but they were paving the way for future intelligence officers and building the very infrastructure for a spy network.


    Toivonen couldn¡¯t even count how often she read their reports, but whenever she went over them again, she always found some new detail she could capitalize on. However, the other problem was she was just a distant observer. But if she managed to get control of Patrick Coleman¡­ then the sky was the limit¡­


    An unhinged and unsteady breath left Toivonen¡¯s mouth as she bit her lip.


    Opening a dossier that OBSIDIAN SPIKE had constructed on her phone, Toivonen furrowed her brow in thought as she scrolled through it. ¡°A¡­ Aze¡­ Azeline¡­?¡± The Intelligence Officer tried to sound out the name. She wasn¡¯t quite as fluent as she¡¯d like in this alien language, so she couldn¡¯t be certain of its pronunciation, but she needed to try at the very least.


    Familiarizing herself with all these new players was paramount because this ¡®Azeline¡¯ was a mercenary with suspected connections to a larger crime organization. That fact alone made her a priority target for their plans moving forward, and she needed to get claws into her.


    As Toivonen continued to go through the dossier, she sifted through the uncountable pictures snapped of her. This blonde elf evidently preferred to be around her favorite special forces team, either lounging in the back of one of their vehicles or aimlessly wandering around with one of the members. However, she noticed it was always a particular team member this ¡®Azeline¡¯ chose to be around the most¡­ and he was a particularly troublesome individual¡­


    In fact, it was explicitly stated that the local listened to no one but the most troublesome person on the team¡­ ¡°What¡¯s the connection here¡­?¡± She grumbled as she tapped away at her phone, looking through this ODA¡¯s files again.


    This had always puzzled her, but she never really had the time to think about it before being ripped away from the veritable mountain of other situations she had to handle. However, now that she had an hour or two to sit in a car and think, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder just why in the world the local pick-up would be more smitten with this guy. Why would she stick to some rogue operator who bordered on being a thug instead of the team leader who would be calling the shots here?


    Was Coleman really calling the shots?


    Toivonen had been keeping an eye on Coleman for a while now. She had rubbed her hands greedily when she read the details of how his unit successfully infiltrated a population center some significance. Not only that, but recent reports were sparse, but they mentioned how he and his team had potentially subverted and turned someone in the town''s law enforcement with some influence.


    This was another incredible milestone that would go a long way toward establishing a foothold in this new world. However, the more Toivonen dug into Major Patrick Coleman''s background, the more confused she became. It was suspicious to the point where she had a tough time believing that this team leader played any role other than a passive one in this endeavor.


    The Major was clean¡­ way too clean.


    Once more, she read through Coleman''s profile. ¡°Above-average-income and holistic family in Connecticut¡­Captain of his high school football team¡­. Graduated from West Point¡­¡± Toivonen pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Bastard reads like the poster child of the all-American boy next door from the goddamn 50¡¯s¡­¡±


    "No way this guy is anything but straight-edge," Toivonen said, her fingers transitioning from pinching to rubbing as if she were trying to ward a headache away. The disconnect between Coleman''s background and his current actions was too significant.


    So the question was: how in the world did such a seemingly innocent man brought up in an idealized household develop the skills to subvert and manipulate to such a degree? It just didn''t add up. Coleman''s file painted a picture of a straight-laced, by-the-book officer who was universally loved by his superiors. He was the kind of man who''d sooner report a jaywalker than negotiate with criminals.


    Toivonen leaned back in her chair as she thought. In her experience, the operators who excelled in this type of work usually came from more complicated backgrounds. They understood the criminal mindset because they''d lived it or at least brushed up against it. This usually gave them the innate understanding of the darker side of human nature needed to perform more¡­ sensitive tasks.


    But Coleman? His background suggested he''d the most he¡¯d done was underage drinking at a party. "There''s no way," Toivonen muttered, shaking her head. "No fucking way, this boy scout just waltzes in and starts flipping thugs and made men in a crime syndicate. It just doesn''t happen."


    The dissonance was jarring. It was like reading about two completely different people that were polar opposites.


    Toivonen threw one leg over the other, letting it bounce restlessly as she glanced briefly at her driver. "How much longer until we arrive?" she asked, her voice taut with impatience.


    "Twenty more minutes, ma''am," the driver replied, his eyes flicking up at her in the rearview mirror.


    With a curt nod, Toivonen glanced back down at her phone. She was determined to find out what was happening here in the hello as she started digging through the rest of Coleman''s team. There were a couple of candidates, but only two individuals stood out to her. The rest were either career soldiers or fresh out of selection, and none of them were particularly noteworthy.


    Jason Kwon seemed interesting, but his file read more like a guy who went with the flow and never really rocked the boat. And then there was Elijah... Elijah Drake.


    Her leg bounced as her thoughts honed in on Drake''s file. Toivonen never looked that deep into the man other than the cursory background check due to his¡­ unusual circumstance in the form of his plus one. But now that she taking a closer look, dots on the graph are starting to line up.


    Elijah Drake was a troublemaker who bordered on being a renegade. The fact that he was joined at the hip by that immortal fairy thing didn¡¯t help.


    Toivonen''s thoughts swirled momentarily as she read what files they had on him, but she quickly realized there wasn''t much to go on. She would have to dig deep into him like she did with Coleman. But what she could glean from the limited information they had painted a picture of a problem child from start to finish.


    A grimace formed on the intelligence officer''s face as she pored over the details of his sealed records. He had a... very colorful history with the plethora of gangs of South Los Angeles in California. The arrest reports and investigation files painted a vivid picture, even if nothing ever stuck to the man. Toivonen wasn''t one to judge someone born in such an environment, but she couldn''t help but wonder how he''d slipped through the system''s cracks. Despite multiple arrests and ongoing investigations, his record was technically clean. Whatever strings he''d pulled to make it all disappear must have been impressive. She found herself both intrigued and unsettled by the question: what did he do, or what kind of information could he have traded to wipe his slate so thoroughly?


    Whatever the reason, the involvement of both the U.S. Marshals Service and the FBI hinted at a significant case ¨C perhaps the takedown of a major gang¡¯s criminal operation. Whatever it was, they''d locked it away tight and made it virtually inaccessible.


    Besides his alleged criminal history, Elijah¡¯s story reads like some kind of fever dream. It seemed this guy managed to bypass checks and balances that would flag him as a no-go, but Toivonen assumed this was only due to the Army¡¯s desperation for a warm body. However, that wasn¡¯t the only anomaly she saw within his dossier. He had not only joined the Army at the height of the Global War on Terror (GWOT) but also managed to secure an 18x contract¡­


    ¡­ The exclusive pipeline that guaranteed and prepped you for Special Forces Assessment and Selection.


    Shaking her head, Toivonen read that he not only finished Robin Sage but was drafted directly into their direct action company. Sure, the details of his time in that unit were spotty at best, but his combat performance was¡­ quite impressive. However, the operator had a very colorful record with disciplinary action and was a stark contrast to Coleman''s squeaky-clean background.


    Toivonen winced as she noticed that Elijah was still just a Staff Sergeant despite being one of the team''s senior soldiers besides Kwon. The man had not been promoted once since joining, which was highly unusual for someone with his experience unless they were a perpetual problem but too valuable to let go.


    Something else jumped out at her, though. Elijah served under Colonel Finley, the 5th Special Forces Group commander when he led a commander''s in-extremis force (CIF) team as a major. It seemed that Finley was not the biggest fan of dear Elijah, regardless of seeing the value in him, and decided to be the roadblock that prevented him from progressing his career.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    When Toivonen dug deeper into their unit, she couldn¡¯t help but groan. "I wish they¡¯d just stick to one goddam name¡­." She muttered as she saw the multiple asterisks with the litany of names the Special Forces direct action company had used in the past.


    Suddenly, her driver spoke up, ripping her out of her train of thought. "We''re here, ma''am."


    A disgruntled huff left Toivonen¡¯s mouth as she turned her phone¡¯s screen off and looked up as the vehicle pulled into a heavily guarded lot. The sight of the familiar grounds within Camp Peary met her gaze as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. Turning her head, she saw that the security was a lot tighter than usual, with CIA Police sweeping the area, but Toinvonen soon spotted a familiar face caught her eye/


    A rather petite woman with long blonde hair that flowed down her shoulders sauntered over, dressed casually in a camisole and yoga pants. She had her phone in her hand and a smirk on her face while waving happily.


    "You only come to see me when it''s work-related, Sofia," the blonde called out, brushing some hair from her face.


    Toivonen rolled her eyes but couldn''t suppress her own smile. "You know how it is, Jamie," she replied in a casual and familiar tone. "I was pretty much ignored before all this fantasy alien garbage, but now they think I¡¯m some kind of slave."


    Jamie chuckled as she watched her old friend sigh miserably. "Well, at least the aliens are giving you an excuse to visit old friends," she said, pulling Toivonen into a quick hug. "Though I have to say, I''m a little hurt you didn''t come running to me the moment you found out about elves and magic."


    Toivonen rolled her eyes with a playful smile. "Come running to you?" she replied incredulously as they pulled apart. What is a knockoff of some Instagram-obsessed Valley girl gonna do? Flirt with them?" Toivonen looked her up and down, a hint of amusement in her eyes.


    Jamie laughed as her blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well, maybe I wouldn¡¯t be the best tactical choice. Isn''t being unassuming the point?" she retorted, doing a princess-like twirl. I¡¯d make a great case officer. You should see how many people ignore me because I look like some random girl!"


    A hum left Toinvonens mouth for a moment as she put a finger to her chin. "Potentially¡­¡± She replied thoughtfully. ¡°Your pet project is going to need a handler¡­ so I might have a need for reliable people in the near future.¡±


    ¡°But, I am impressed by your ability to look like a perpetual sorority girl.¡± She then said with a cheeky smile. ¡°What''s your secret? The lifeblood of virgins? Ritual sacrifice?¡±


    Scoffing at the backhanded compliment, Jamie''s eyes rolled dramatically. "Oh please, get with the times, grandma.¡± She put her hands on her hips and shot back with a mock glare. "It''s adrenochrome and eating babies this time around."


    "My secret for eternal youth, huh¡­" Jamie¡¯s tone softened as she crossed her arms in thought, "I mean¡­ all I do is work out and keep as far away from brass as if they had the bubonic plague.¡± She shrugged. There really wasn¡¯t anything else that she was doing, so she didn¡¯t have an answer for her.


    Toivonen''s face fell into a tired, pained expression. "Ya... I guess that makes sense..." she muttered while her hand scratched at her arm.


    Over the past half-year, Toivonen had developed many nervous tics due to the overwhelming stress of her new responsibilities. The wrinkles hadn''t quite come yet, but she could feel them starting to appear.


    However, she found a few grey hairs, which nearly made her cry.


    "Speaking of aging faster than one should and our¡­ leadership." Toivonen stood up properly and crossed her arms. "There are visitors on their way. Big ones."


    The corner of Jamies lip shot up in disgust as the bridge of her nose crinkled. She had absolutely no interest in whatever the hell Toinvonen was about to drag her into, but seeing as she was already here, Jamie realized she had very little choice in the matter. "The Director?" The words came out more as a bitter accusation than a question


    A smirk spread across Toivonen¡¯s face as she nodded slowly. "And the Secretary of Defense, Director of National Intelligence..." She said somewhat happily at the fact that someone else was joining in on her suffering.


    Jamie groaned and slapped her forehead. "Are you serious?"


    But Toivonen wasn''t done delivering the terrible news. She continued, pulling up a finger for each important individual that was going to show up. "And the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the National Security Advisor..." She continued, watching Jamie¡¯s usual nonchalant expression turn more and more sour.


    "And a whole host of Scientists!" Toivonen topped it all off in a triumphant tone.


    Staring at her supposed ¡®friend¡¯ in disbelief, Jamie opened her mouth to give her a few choice words but held stopped just before a sound came out. Her mouth flapped like a fish, cycling through whatever curse or derogatory term she wanted to hurl toward Toinvonen but never committed.


    Finally, after a moment of stunned silence, she found her voice. "Jesus Christ, Sofia¡­ what the hell?¡± She asked with a look that said she wanted absolutely no part of what was happening.


    "Too late to escape now!¡± Toivonen cackled evilly and clapped her hands together. ¡°Our betters have spoken!" she said, walking away from the car and grabbing her hair to tie it in a bun.


    A slew of muttered curses left Jamie''s mouth as she threw her up and slapped them against her thighs in exasperation. "You haven''t even told me what''s happening yet!" As she chased after the woman.


    Toivonen furrowed her brow and slowed to allow Jamie to catch up as she finished fussing with her hair. "It''s... complicated.¡± She replied with a troubled voice as she looked around at all the staff and security officers wandering around the place. ¡°Come on, I''ll tell you more when we¡¯re not in a goddamn parking lot."


    Jamie''s expression turned highly suspicious as she took a spot right next to Toivonen. She had a sinking feeling that she was stepping into something she really didn''t want to deal with, but she knew better than to ask questions, given the nature of her work.


    With their conversation coming to a natural end, the two women crossed the grounds, heading towards a section of the Farm that Jamie knew was reserved for more clandestine tests. It was a highly secured area, requiring multiple clearances and biometric scans to access, but everyone entering these grounds had already gone through extensive clearances before even laying eyes on the building. The security was so intense that no one who wasn¡¯t supposed to be on this side of the camp had been forcibly removed.


    As they walked, Toivonen lowered her voice and gave Jamie the side eye. "We''re headed to Sector 7-G to participate in an... unusual presentation."


    The ominous words caused Jamie to bring her hand to her face and push in her eyeballs to ward off the headache that was starting to form. She had to assume this presentation was also why she was ordered to bring her latest experimental trainee. It seemed like they were going to be messing with things beyond their current conventional understandings and taking another step into the unknown.


    "Yep, L''s other half is on their way with a host of her students and a few engineers to do some testing,¡± Toivoinen continued, referring to Lysandra and Yzael. They want everyone there, including L."


    Jamie gave a reflective look at this. She couldn''t quite understand why the scientists would want Lysandra there. The woman was training in espionage, not their technical bullshit. But then again, this was far beyond her pay grade, and the decision had most likely been made far before she was consulted.


    "I see," she said carefully, thinking about what they could possibly want to see from her latest Prot¨¦g¨¦. "And I''m guessing this isn''t just a capabilities demonstration?"


    Toivonen shook her head and gave her a complicated expression. "Far from it. I wasn''t even briefed on what¡¯s happening.¡± She gave an annoyed and dismissive wave of her hand as she rolled her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s so many layers of bullshit classification that they told me to fuck off, it¡¯s none of my business, and to just show up.¡± shrouded under so many layers of classification, it made my head spin.¡±


    As they continued through the Farm, grumbling to each other, the two seemed taken aback at the even heavier security presence when they got to their destination. The CIA police seemed to melt away and were replaced with more shadow personnel equipped with more personalized weapons. Their presence made the atmosphere grow tense as they passed hardened security measures and anti-surveillance equipment.


    Around the perimeter, teams of technicians were setting up additional equipment. Some were deploying mobile signal jammers, while others were erecting what looked like portable weather stations ¨C likely decoys to mask the true nature of their activities from satellite surveillance.


    Recognizing that the men and women who secured the area and operated the equipment here were from the clandestine branches of the CIA, Jamie couldn¡¯t help but shake her head. ¡°This is getting weird.¡± She said, presenting her ID to the guards in front of the door, who then started pulling out biometric verification equipment.


    Toivonen pressed her thumb against a reader as it flashed green and looked towards her blonde friend. ¡°I mean, ya. Our country¡¯s biggest adversaries are promptly losing their minds,¡± she said while going through another host of security verification protocols. Counter-intel has been running the gauntlet at every waking moment. There are sleeper cells that have been activated all over the place, and those are only the ones we know about.."


    "Not surprising¡­¡± Jamie murmured as she went through her own identity verification process. We¡¯re completely shifting the paradigm and shifting it in a MAJOR way." She continued in an annoyed huff as the operator held a phone-like device to scan her face and fussed about the positioning of her head. "I''m surprised outright acts of war haven''t been committed yet."


    Toivonen didn''t say anything for a few moments as the device scanned her hands, measuring the known shape, width, and length of every finger. "We''re teetering." She finally took a few steps forward after finishing it all, "The Navy and Air Force are internally on DEFCON 2."


    Jamie wasn¡¯t even remotely surprised by the news, if anyone could call it news in the first place. ¡°Any plans on our security posturing going public?¡±.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Toivonen shook her head. "Public¡¯s already whipped into a frenzy. The last thing we want is them screeching for war with anyone and everyone."


    Once they entered Sector 7-G, they found the building itself to be a windowless, reinforced concrete structure that seemed to hunker down into the earth. Its walls looked as if they were thick enough to withstand a bunker buster, and one could see the telltale signs of a Faraday cage built into the structure.


    Looking around, they found that the massive complex easily contained several acres of open space. The air seemed to shimmer slightly, and waiting for the two was the sight of the two elves happily greeting each other.


    ¡°Let''s get this over with¡­¡± Toinvonen sighed as she trudged over to the group of very important individuals off to the side.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 91

    Sector 7-G hummed with the sound of advanced machinery as engineers, technicians, and high-ranking officials spoke in hushed whispers.


    A whole host of prominent individuals within the United States Government were present, and each of them looked nervous and excited. Some knew of the details of what they would be shown, while others were left in the dark and stood there unsure of what to expect.


    However, regardless of what they knew, the fact that Yzael was taking part in this little meeting spoke volumes about how important it was.


    Feeling the eyes glued to her, Yzael cleared her throat, moved with grace and poise that befitted her people, and greeted each dignitary and shook their hands one by one. The High Elf was no stranger to these kinds of meetings. It was a rough start at first; these strange humans had equally strange customs, and decorum caused her to commit a few gaffs, but she was always a fast learner when push came to shove.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Secretary.¡± Yzael greeted with a slight bow as she grasped Secretary of Defense Mark Leigh¡¯s hand. ¡°Major General Elizabeth Harper.¡± She sidestepped and grasped the Pentagon¡¯s Program Executive Officer¡¯s hand.


    As she made her way through the crowd, Yzael''s eyes held a glint of mischief as she came across a familiar face¨C a woman with striking blue hair, short Sun-elf ears, and an eyepatch covering her left eye. ¡°Madam Lysandra.¡± She smiled, grasping her hand.


    They had already met some hours ago and played off they were seeing each other for the first time as she greeted her, Yzael couldn¡¯t help but break out into a smile. It was an unusually expressive display for a High Elf, but seeing her former freelancer captain doing well still brought no end of joy.


    "It''s really good to see you again," the High Elf continued, her long ears wiggling slightly with excitement. The two would be showing off their abilities today, and Yzael couldn¡¯t wait to fight along with Lysandra again, even though it was just for a demonstration.


    Lysandra, less constrained by the muted emotions typical of High Elves, beamed at Yzael, but she still tried her best to maintain a professional demeanor. She was well aware of the important figures surrounding them and how little sway she had compared to her longer-eared friend.


    "I''m delighted to see you¡¯ve found a place in this new world," Lysandra replied with a very warm tone. "We need to sit down for some tea when possible."


    Yzael''s face became even more expressive as her eyes lit up and her hands clapped lightly together. For a moment, she seemed to forget where she was and who was in attendance. "Oh! Oh! Yes!" she nearly shouted as her voice went up an octave. I''ve found quite the lovely place with these little fluffy creatures!"


    She began enthusiastically describing a cat cafe she had visited as her usually reserved demeanor completely vanished. "And the confections! Oh, the confections!¡± she said, completely oblivious to the stares and Lysandas side-eyeing the officials nervously. I couldn¡¯t quite believe what they had in this world! They reminded me of what they served in the Rakthul Consortium of Guids in the southern islands!"


    Lysandra''s interest was visibly piqued, but her attention remained fixed on the group of very important-looking people who stood watching them with raised eyebrows. The stark contrast between Yzael''s sudden burst of enthusiasm and the formal, tense atmosphere of the room made her even more uneasy. Some officials had even started whispering to each other as they exchanged glances. A mix of confusion and amusement clouded their faces as one older man, dressed in a crisp military uniform, spoke about how Yzael reminded him of his daughter in this very moment.


    Gently grabbing and squeezing Yzael''s arm, Lysandra tried to bring her friend''s attention back to their surroundings in a subtle manner. "That sounds wonderful," she said softly with a hint of warning. "Perhaps we can discuss it more... later?"


    Suddenly realizing her lapse in decorum, Yzael straightened up, and her ears flattened slightly in embarrassment. "Yes, of course," She cleared her throat as her voice returned to its usual calm timbre. "We have much to catch up on, but now is not the time."


    She then turned slightly to acknowledge the watching officials with a polite nod. "My apologies for the outburst. Shall we proceed with the briefing?"


    For the most part, the humans in attendance just chuckled good-naturedly in response, waving away as if it wasn¡¯t a big deal. One of them, a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, spoke up. "Don¡¯t worry about it, Yzael. I think you even lightened the air a bit." He replied, noticing that tension had visibly lessened. However, we should really carry on with why we''re here."


    A few acknowledgments were heard, and as the atmosphere shifted, personnel started to move. Everyone present knew they were about to delve into something extraordinary, and they were eager to see just what in the world had been so confidential that hardly anyone was clued in on what was happening.


    It was show time, and Yzael caught a bit of nerves as she suddenly found herself at a loss of words. She had always been a poor speaker and was far more comfortable talking about the technicalities of a project, but now she found herself on stop muttering and stammering. "Well, um... I um..." Her eyes darted to the project manager, the very same man who had saved her from a public gaff earlier.


    "Allow me to take it from here," The man with the salt and pepper beard said as he sensed Yzael''s discomfort and smoothly stepped forward. He cleared his throat and introduced himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I''m Liam Hawthorne from Anduril Industries. What we''re about to present won''t just be groundbreaking¡ª it¡¯ll completely dictate the rules for warfare from here on out." He spoke in a familiar and confident voice before looking over to a trailer with oddly shaped structures covered with a tan tarp.


    Liam gestured towards the first of the tarp-covered structure, "Under this covering lies the culmination of our collaboration with Yzael. Her intimate knowledge of the very principles and building blocks of this new energy had been invaluable.¡± He spoke, pacing back and forth with one hand collapsed over his abdomen and the other gesturing with his other at the generals and officials. ¡°What we once called ''magic'' is becoming less unknowable and entering the realm of something tangible and malleable."


    ¡°Melvin, if you would please.¡± He nodded to a group of technicians working around the trailers. "Let''s unveil our breakthrough."


    The technicians immediately got to work and jumped on top of and all around the trailer to gently remove the covers designed to obscure the shape beneath it. The tarp itself was a complex, multi-layered affair structure with irregular patterns and textures that confused anyone who tried to make out what was undear near it. The design drew a lot of attention, but its main purpose was to confuse satellite imaging and prevent accurate analysis of what was underneath.


    As the tarp was slowly and methodically removed, the group of officials leaned forward in anticipation as they laid their eyes on a structure nearly 12 feet tall. With a final yank, everyone was greeted with a strange metallic grey device with white surfaces that gleamed under the facility''s harsh lights.


    Sporting an imposing array of circular panels facing outwards, the device also had six enlarged fins arranged in a manner that made everyone¡¯s head tilt in wonder. At first glance, one wanted to call the entire thing a radar, but each fin was mounted vertically vertically and placed between panels covered in a grid of small, highly sensitive sensors.


    The top of the structure was equally complex, housing an arrangement of antennas and what appeared to be specialized receivers. Meanwhile, the base of device the was significantly more robust and sat on removable tripods while also featuring mounting lugs with a heavy-duty stabilization system. It was apparent that the array was designed to be modular enough to mount it onto a vehicle.


    Liam stood up a bit straighter and lifted his chin slightly higher as he scanned the group silently, allowing them to take in what they saw and make their own decisions. One of his sales techniques was to create dramatic pauses to build a little tension. "Ladies and gentlemen,¡± he paused again before looking each official and general in the eye. I introduce you to Spectre, which is the very first in arcane detection, triangulation, and countermeasure technology."


    He then gestured towards the imposing and futuristic construction. "Spectre represents a breakthrough in a brand new field.¡± Liam clasped his hands together as he continued to pace. ¡°By leveraging Yzael¡¯s profound knowledge in what we¡¯re calling thaumatodynamics, we have fused it with cutting-edge defense manufacturing and artificial intelligence.¡±


    "Spectre''s functionality is threefold," Liam Continued. First and foremost, it''s used for arcane detection and classification.¡± He raised his hand and held out his index finger. By utilizing sophisticated sensor matrices and advanced spectral analysis, it can detect ambient alternative energy fluctuations and identify them through machine learning."


    He paused briefly. "However, I must note that due to data constraints, our classifications are currently limited,¡± Liam said somewhat apologetically as he glanced toward Yzael for a moment. ¡°We need more arcane users utilizing more abilities or casting more spells to analyze and further our ability to map out what is being used and how."


    Moving on, Liam continued, "Secondly, triangulation.¡± He held out two fingers as he resumed his pacing.¡± A network of these sensors can pinpoint the source of energetic events, although as a prototype, its accuracy is still limited."


    At this point, Secretary of Defense Mark Leigh leaned forward. "How accurate are we talking, Mr. Hawthorne?"


    Liam glanced at one of his engineers, a middle-aged Asian-American woman with short black hair, who seemed clearly uncomfortable as she cleared her throat. "Sir, given that this technology is still in its infancy, our triangulation capabilities are a work in progress.¡± She replies that she is shifting in place and adjusting her cardigan. ¡°B-But, there is substantial room for improvement. Currently, we can detect concentrations of arcane energy within a radius of about 5 miles, with an accuracy of plus or minus 500 feet."


    The officials exchanged brief glances but kept their thoughts to themselves, gesturing for Liam to continue.


    "Finally," Liam held out a third finger, "and ¨C this is still very much a work in progress, but showing great promise ¨C countermeasures,¡± he said confidently as he rooted himself in place and faced the group of VIP¡¯s. ¡°Utilizing the more esoteric principles of Yzael''s field of study, Spectre can emit counter-frequency waves that can disrupt or even nullify energetic events."


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He held up a hand, pre-empting questions. "I must stress that this capability is currently minimal, with a range of only about 100 feet.¡± He said, pumping his hand in a stopping motion. ¡°This is primarily due to the complex nature of these anomalous energies, limited data for our AI, and our still-developing understanding of how to counteract them effectively. Each type of energetic event seems to require specific variables to disrupt, and we''re still in the early stages of mapping these variables out."


    Liam''s expression turned serious. "However, I want to emphasize that this is just the beginning. With continued research, development, and funding, we expect to expand these countermeasures'' range and efficacy significantly.¡±


    The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and his entourage of generals began speaking among themselves in hushed tones. Each of them had a pensive look, and their conversation seemed intense. But, after a few moments, the Program Executive Officer, Major General Elizabeth Harper, spoke up.


    "Mr. Hawthorne, I need more details,¡± the Major General said as she furrowed her brows. What are we looking at in terms of power usage, reliability, and, most importantly, cost?"


    Liam nodded, expecting these questions. "Of course, General Harper.¡± He replied while his eyes shifted between the Major General and the massive array. ¡°Currently, Spectre requires a significant power source ¨C we''re talking about a dedicated containerized megawatt generator or connection to a robust power grid. Reliability is high for the detection and triangulation functions, but the countermeasure aspect is still experimental. As for cost..." He paused, bracing himself. "The current prototype runs at about $50 million each, but we expect that to decrease significantly with scaled production."


    The Program Executive Officer''s eyebrows shot up, but she nodded, jotting down notes. Taking her place in asking questions was Thomas Dalton, the Director of National Intelligence, who pipped in. "This machine is rather... substantial¡­¡±


    Director Dalton gave a complex look as he considered utilizing this technology for the various alphabet agencies under his purview. However, the size of this thing made it simply an impossibility at the moment..


    ¡°What are the possibilities for miniaturization?" he asked, rubbing his forehead. I¡¯m not asking you to make it the size of a backpack, but would this potentially be small enough to fit in a commercial van?¡±


    Unsure of how to answer a question so far out of his depth, Liam glanced at one of the engineer . This topic was the sole reason why these kinds of showcasing had a project manager present and someone technical to answer technical questions.


    The female engineer cleared her throat before speaking. "Sir, our understanding of this field is still very rudimentary. I''d even go as far as to say primitive.¡± She said after finally gaining some confidence as the officials listened to her silently. ¡°We¡¯ve implemented numerous safeguards and redundancies due to the unpredictable nature of the energies we''re dealing with. Until we have more time to experiment and, more importantly, gather more diverse data, we must keep things large."


    "Miniaturization is certainly a goal, but it''s not feasible in the near term,¡± Liam added, allowing the engineer to step back and heave a sigh of relief. We must ensure we fully understand the principles at work before safely reducing the size. Each component serves a crucial function, often with built-in redundancies. Removing or shrinking these prematurely could lead to catastrophic failures or, worse, unintended magical effects."


    But just before she found safety in the background, the Engieer decided to clarify something and spoke up. "However, with continued research and more data from diverse magical sources, we believe significant size reduction could be possible within the next 5-10 years."


    Liam closed his eyes and internally cringed as his own engineer threw a wrench into his sales pinch. Meanwhile, a flurry of unhappy murmurs erupted among the officials.


    One asked, "What are the possibilities of accelerating the timeline?"


    Another asked, "What kind of data are we talking about exactly?"


    A flurry of questions followed in rapid succession. Seemingly overwhelming Liam and his Engineer.


    "How much funding would it take to speed this up?"


    "Are there any potential health risks associated with this technology?"


    "How many are we going to be able to produce a year?"


    The barrage of questions continued until the Secretary of Defense, Mark Leigh, raised his hand. "Alright, enough," he said firmly. "The questions can come later. We''re here for a demonstration, so..." He gestured toward Liam. "If you will, Mr. Hawthorne."


    Liam nodded, relief evident on his face. He turned to Yzael. "Madam Yzael, would you please do as we practiced?"


    Yzael nodded, causing her long ears to wiggle gently in the air. ¡°Alright, but do remember, I¡¯m not a particularly skilled battlemage.¡± She said, looking sheepishly at Liam and those in attendance before walking deeper into the massive facility.


    When Yzael reached her designated position, technicians started to power on machinery and electronics. A couple of technicians grabbed a large TV attached to a wheeled chassis and dragged it in front of the dignitaries just as the screen flickered to life.


    The officials and generals all started whispering curiosity to each other or hummed in interest as what looked like an advanced radar interface similar to what was used for counter-battery was displayed. A circular grid pulsed with a soft blue glow, and concentric rings radiated outward from the center, each marked with distance measurements in both standard and unfamiliar units. Scattered across the display were various symbols and icons, some recognizable as topographical markers, others entirely new and enigmatic.


    As the dignitaries leaned in for a closer look, they noticed thin, shimmering lines crisscrossing the grid, forming intricate patterns that seemed to shift and dance with a life of their own. These lines pulsed and flickered in response to unseen stimuli, creating a mesmerizing data visualization display.


    Liam allowed everyone to become familiar with this new display for a few minutes before he launched into an explanation. Only when the whispering had subsided, and eyes floated to him, he finally started to speak. "What you''re seeing here is Spectre''s standard interface.¡± Liam walked to the large display and stood next to it. ¡°It''s designed to be intuitive for operators familiar with existing military detection systems like the AN/TPQ-53 counter-batter radar. When no magical activity is present, as you can see now, the display remains relatively clear."


    He pointed to different areas of the screen. "The readouts you¡¯re seeing right now are the ambient energy levels that fluctuate regardless of the high energy events,¡± Liam said as he gestured towards one of the technicians, and the screen went perfectly still. ¡°Using complex algorithms and AI, we can reduce the fluctuations to nothing and focus on high energy events utilizing frequency spectrum analysis.¡± The once mildly fluttering readouts then went dead the moment the technicians flipped a few switches and typed a few commands


    "Now," Liam continued a hint of excitement in his voice before turning further down the facility towards the High Elf, idling a few dozen meters away. "Alright Yzael! Give us something small!"


    Yzael long ears softly bounced as she slightly nodded and raised her hands to cast a spell. Her fingers started to move in intricate patterns as she began to chant in High-Elven. "Aemis-serath, lythar miralan airin, na''dor felar thalorin ara," Yzael¡¯s melodic voice carried across the facility, causing everyone¡¯s attention to focus on her.


    In what seemed like a gentle flash, a shimmering, serpentine made of what appeared to be a form of liquid gas began to form and flowed around Yzael and followed her movements. For most in the room, this was the very first time they saw magic in person, and they couldn¡¯t help but be mesmerized by the surreal display. It was as if a glowing bolt of ice twisted and coiled like a living creature and even snapped its jaws as if it couldn¡¯t wait to be unleashed.


    Oohs and ahh¡¯s dominated the facility as Liam gave a satisfied smirk. "What you''re seeing here," he explained as his own voice quickened with excitement, "is the magical signature of Yzael''s ice spell, which has its own unique ''fingerprint'' that we can detect and analyze."


    Suddenly, Yzael thrust her hands forward just when her voice rose to a crescendo. The serpentine bolt of ice then shot forward like a bolt of lightning and slammed into a nearby HESCO barrier.


    The magical ¡®serpent¡¯ splashed spectacularly and instantly froze a large section of the barrier, causing the metal wire mesh to crack and shatter under the extreme temperature change. Even the sand and earth inside froze solid, sending the cracks deep and compromising the structural integrity. Just before the bolt hit, the audience saw it shimmer and dance before impact, but when it hit¡­ a strange magical effect lingered before dissipating into nothingness.


    Audible gasps escaped from everyone''s mouths as they watched the incredible display. A few more military-minded individuals wanted to inspect the damaged HESCO barrier, but Liam drew their attention back to him when he spoke. "As you can see," he said, his voice carrying a more analytical note, "Spectre not only detected the spell as it was being cast but also tracked the general location of the caster." He paused, allowing the officials to collect themselves and digest this information.


    "While the calculations are still somewhat off," he continued, "we''re confident that with enough time, data, and funding, we''ll be able to triangulate down to the meter, along with the direction of the magical effect and the potential impact point in real-time."


    The room fell silent as the implications of what they had just witnessed began to sink in. At first, Everyone felt that the reports on this magic business were exaggerated, too surreal to be true. But now that they had been given an in-person demonstration, they found this threat to be all too real. Magic, anomalous energies, or whatever one would call it, went beyond their understanding and superseded their existing procedures. They needed to get on top of it as soon as possible.


    Knocking them out of their trance, Liam continued his presentation as he started to pace again. "This isn''t just limited to what we would call ''spellcasters,'' either." He said, looking towards Jamie and the shorter-eared elf who stood at least a head taller than Yzael. ¡°Would you mind if you let Ms. Lysandra participate in the next test?¡± Liam asked politely, looking directly at the blonde.


    Finally understanding why she was made to attend, Jamie crossed her arms as she stood on the sideline next toToivonen. She gave Toivonen an incredulous look as if to say she wasn''t quite believing her own eyes, but her friend shrugged.


    Jamie let out a deep sigh before turning her gaze to Lysandra and nodding for the shorter-eared elf girl to participate.


    Lysandra looked more unsure as she tentatively approached Liam as he turned towards the audience, who watched with renewed interest. Magic had left a substantial mark, but with the insinuation that it could detect other means of using this energy, curiosity got the better of everyone.


    "What we''re about to show you next demonstrates Spectre''s ability to detect and analyze more subtle forms of anomalous energy manipulation,¡± Liam said as he walked over to a technician who had approached them with an all-metal sledgehammer. This has significant implications for intelligence gathering and counterintelligence operations."


    Liam gave an apologetic look and bowed his head a little before handing the tool to the nervous Lysandra. "I apologize for not giving you a proper weapon, but this is the best we had on such short notice," he explained. ¡°But could you please attack the object Yzael had frozen with all your might?¡±


    Taking the sledgehammer, Lysandra nodded slightly as she twisted the tube in her hand. She had to acknowledge that this was much more of a tool than a weapon, but since this gentleman had asked so politely, she decided not to hold back.


    With a sigh, Lysandra turned her gaze to the HESCO barrier. A maul or even a Warhammer wasn''t precisely a weapon she was proficient with. Still, she liked to think she was capable enough to utilize any weapon she encountered should the situation arise.


    Suddenly, the blue-haired Elf''s demeanor changed, causing the read-out on the TV screen to spike subtly. Lysandra¡¯s movements shocked everyone as they violently and abruptly exploded forward towards the HESCO barrier. With a devastating overhead swing, the head of the sledgehammer went down, crashing into the barrier and shattering a good half of the structure.


    A vertical explosion rang out as debris shot out in every direction, sending everyone ducking as shards of ice flew by. Yzael had erected her own barrier and weaved another spell to blow away the dust kicked up from the blow. Once all was settled, however, everyone could not help but gawk as they reoriented themselves and saw that the hammer¡¯s head had slammed into the ground, wedging itself deep into the concrete with its shaft pointing upwards.


    An even more disturbed silence reigned in the facility. Even Liam seemed speechless as he stared at the woman.


    ¡°How much did you say these cost, Mr. Hawthorne?¡± the Secretary of defense suddenly asked.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 92

    In the new world, a shroud of darkness blanketed the sky, concealing the silhouettes of those who lurked in the night.


    ¡°Piece of shit¡­!¡± Bennett quietly growled as he fussed with a cylindrical device as he remained crouched on the cluttered rooftop of a relatively tall building.


    He struggled to stuff the various connectors into the heavily modified device properly and properly attach an antenna that was the length of his forearm to it. But, before securing it in a discreet location, Elijah crept over while hunched low to avoid skylining himself.


    "Missed a screw," The menace whispered, pointing toward the bottom of the device.


    Bennett swatted his hand away irritably. "Shut the fuck up, you trog," he hissed, pointing his hand-held electric mini-drill at him. ¡°Go away! Shoo!¡±


    Elijah let out a quiet cackle as he slinked away. Everyone considered how he enjoyed making others annoyed and frustrated, one of the agitating parts of his personality, but the man clearly enjoyed it. What was even worse was that the more visceral your reaction, the more pleasure he derived from whatever torment he subjected you to.


    An indignant glare bore into the back of Elijah¡¯s head as he returned his attention to the installation. He couldn¡¯t help but remark how appropriate of an ¡®apostle¡¯ or whatever in hell Elijah was for that infernal fairy. Bennett couldn¡¯t even say that sparkly piece of shit little mosquito was slowly changing their medic, but Elijah had ALWAYS been this way.


    ¡°Fucking annoying asshole,¡± Bennett grumbled, manipulating the antenna and fastening it against the wall so it wouldn¡¯t stand out.


    Irritation was starting to mount for the poor man as he wrangled with the devices the Activity boys had shoved into their hands. Sure, they were exciting pieces of tech, but holy hell, the modifications looked like they were done by either a 5-year-old or done in 5 minutes.


    Based on Northrop Grumman¡¯s LN-200 Interial navigation unit, the small local positioning system served as a reference point across a distributed area. When explained, everyone thought it was genius. In a satellite-free environment, they could set them up everywhere and use these handy little things to measure positions continuously. It¡¯d essentially act like a makeshift GPS and help precision munitions triangulate fixed points in space by pinging off each other over a distributed area.


    It was a fantastic piece of innovation, but¡­ It became very evident these modified LN-200s were hastily slapped together because setting them up was an absolute pain in the ass. The housing bulged from the extra wires and circuitry; it was always a gamble whether the holes to insert the antenna were drilled out properly, and its janky nature made Bennett want to rip his hair out.


    ¡°I swear to god I¡¯m going to strangle whoever designed these pieces of shit¡­¡± Bennett grumbled when he found himself pulling out his knife and saving off parts of the housing so it would properly snap into place.


    Coleman pulled away from the Joint Effects Targeting System (JETS) to turn toward his troubled engineer. ¡°Uhhh¡­. Need any help?¡± he asked in a half-amused and half-concern tone.


    Bennett quickly glared at his team leader before pushing hard on his knife and slicing off a piece of hardened plastic with a snap. ¡°No, almost done.¡± He grumbled indignantly as he grabbed his electric mini drill and started screwing it into the wall. "The housing on this piece of trash wasn¡¯t aligning properly," he griped. "I¡¯m good now though."


    Elijah had taken a position next to Coleman, sitting cross-legged and digging through a small satchel. "Look at you, Ben.¡± He said, pulling out a fancy new spotting scope with a ranger finder built into it. ¡°Finally doing something useful."


    "Fuck off, Eli. Why don''t you make yourself useful and suck a dick or something?¡± Bennett snapped back, throwing the piece of shaved housing at the back of Elijah¡¯s head.


    ¡°Quiet now, children of the corn.¡± Coleman scolded, trying to suppress a chuckle. ¡°We don¡¯t want someone noticing we¡¯re up here, now do we?¡± he added while peering through the JETS at the rather impressive Imperial base just outside town.


    For once in a blue moon, Elijah did as he was told as he threw the spotter scope up and cranked the magnifier to max. ¡°Damn, this is actually a godlike spot, Cole," he muttered appreciatively.


    A smirk formed on Coleman¡¯s face. He was always great at finding the best hides, and this time around, their line of sight threaded a needle through multiple buildings, giving them a clear image of what looked like the entrance of a massive military base. Most of it was obscured by buildings on either side, but you could clearly see the steady flow of men, material, and war beasts moving in and out of it.


    "Did your guy give any other info on it?" Coleman glanced at Elijah, wondering if his new informant had spilled anything relevant they could use.


    However, as Elijah dwelled on the question. "Eehh... nothing particularly useful or actionable at the moment¡­ just mostly drama,¡± he replied, trying to formulate a definitive answer. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone bothers to dig into what the Imperials are up to. I get the feeling that everyone pretty much hates each other and purposefully keeps to themselves."


    Coleman rubbed the rough stubble growing on his chin. "Well, what do we know about the situation, then?"


    Elijah huffed a thoughtful tune as he dropped his hands and allowed his rangefinder to rest in his lap. Most of what he was told was personal grievances and beefs. However, personal beefs usually wove into a greater story, and unlocking said story would go a long way in furthering their interests.


    "Well¡­ I know the Imperials took control of the town guard, and they really didn¡¯t like that¡­¡± He murmured, pulling his head away and looking up in thought. ¡°Evidently they just waltzed in, threw their dick on the table and started messing around with their own operations. No more shakedowns, no more extortions, no more overt tolls enforced by policy."


    "So they stamped out corruption," Coleman mused.


    A complicated look formed on Elijah¡¯s face as he tried to articulate what was going on in his head. "Not¡­ really¡­?" He replied, indicating it was a lot more complicated than that. "This is according to our inside guy, but they didn''t replace said corruption. They just made it worse in other ways. They just swooped in and stopped the surface-level crap without implementing proper reward structures, incentives, or... really anything.¡± The medic looked back through the optic of his rifle before continuing. ¡°They basically just marched in, started being overbearing, and began executing anyone who complained."


    Coleman slowly turned to Elijah, his face etched with disbelief. "What? Why?"


    Elijah just shrugged and threw his eyebrows up. "I dunno, don¡¯t ask me¡­ From what I can gather¡­ they think of the local law enforcement as undesirables that need to be removed or whipped into shape." *He explained, scratching his face. ¡°Hell, the Imperials stationed here consider everyone, not them, undesirables.¡±


    The team leader looked off in the distance at the garrison, his expression troubled. "So¡­ they¡¯re just treating everyone like trash while simultaneously relying on them for a portion of security and resupply?" Coleman asked with an incredulous look on his face. "That''s... a horrible idea,"


    "Oh, on the contrary,¡± Elijah wagged his finger at Coleman with a smirk. ¡°It''s actually an excellent idea. They should definitely keep doing it." He said with a glint in his eye that suggested he genuinely meant what he was saying. ¡°I would love nothing more than for them to continue doing exactly what they¡¯re doing.¡±


    A hum of interest left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he stared at Elijah. Coleman was completely out of his breadth if he was honest with himself. This went far beyond the typical Unconventional Warfare mission a Special Forces soldier would find themselves in and had firmly planted themselves in the realm of spooks.


    Once again, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder just how in the hell Elijah had the savvy and familiarity with underworld business to navigate these waters. Half of Coleman wanted just to cut his losses and pull out before they were all gutted in an alleyway because of a bad call¡­ However, Command had made it abundantly clear they were to continue, and wouldn¡¯t tolerate a hint of protest.


    The purview of this new operation was no longer within the hands of Coleman¡¯s Commander, Colonel Finley of the 5th Special Forces Group. It had been forcibly and viciously ripped from the United States Special Operations Command (SOCOM) and, instead, placed firmly into the hands of the shadowy Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) and the litany of agencies at their back.


    All because of a psychotic pointy-eared thug and a legitimate sociopath who had more balls than he did sense.


    "You got an angle to work or something?" The team leader sighed, knowing he would have to rely on whatever strange, mysterious skills his medic possessed.


    Elijah leaned back, putting his arms behind him for support as he gazed at the sky. A deep, contemplative look formed on his face as he blew air through his lips, causing them to smack in a rhythmic fashion. "Things are¡­ starting to align, but nothing immediately actionable."


    He paused, collecting his thoughts. "So far, the Imperials are only enforcing these anti-corruption measures superficially.¡± Elijah waved his hand in a somewhat dismissive manner as if trying to swipe away useless thoughts. ¡°But we do know is the place is that there¡¯s a real son of a bitch of a lord hold up in there, and they''re turning this place into a logistics hub."


    Turning his head towards his team leader, Elijah scratched at his beard before he continued, "The only time there seems to be any interaction between them and the town is when they need raw goods processed.¡± He recalled what his informant had told him. ¡°There¡¯s a rather fucked up supply trifecta going on where the lord is basically vacuuming in all the raw resources from every village and every farm before pushing it all into town to process.¡±


    ¡°Mind you, the terms and payment are dictated with no hope of negotiation,¡± Elijah added, lazily bobbing his finger up and down at Coleman. ¡°So we¡¯re talking people making pennies on the dollar and a lot of them are going into the red because their ¡®betters¡¯ refuse to pay them fairly.¡±


    Coleman''s brow furrowed as he processed this information. "So, we''re looking at a power structure with multiple layers that is aggressively and thoroughly stealing from their people." He stroked his chin thoughtfully.


    Elijah responded in an unsure tone, "I would say more along the lines that these Imperial forces are leeches, sucking the lifeblood from this town."


    ¡°And you plan on using that to drive a massive wedge between the people and their oppressors,¡± Coleman said, catching on Elijah¡¯s train of thought.


    A click of approval left Elijah¡¯s mouth as Elijah winked and jutted his finger at Coleman. ¡°Correctamundo!" he said with a smug smile on his face. ¡°We¡¯re setting conditions for disruption!¡±


    He paused, letting that sink in. "We¡¯ve been here for a few days now, Coleman." Elijah then asked, sitting up straight but spinning to face his team leader. ¡°What have you noticed, logistics-wise?¡±


    Coleman''s face hardened as he took in that question. ¡°Long convoys of food and other, unknown materials coming in and distributed to the local population to work on.¡± He answered, furrowing his brow. ¡°On the hour, every hour.¡±


    Nodding in satisfaction, Elijah opened his mouth to continue, but Coleman interrupted him.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking to use the gangs as proxies to disrupt them¡­¡± The Team Leader said after putting two and two together. ¡°You¡¯re not just looking to gather information. You¡¯re planning on turning the town itself against their masters and ally with us instead.¡±


    Elijah placed his hands before him as if trying to conjure the thought. ¡°Kind of¡­ I haven¡¯t really gotten that far yet. I honestly thought they¡¯d pull us out and insert spooks who know how to run these ops, but they want us to go all the way.¡± He replied in a more hesitant tone as Coleman slapped his face. ¡°Look, here''s the thing¡­ We have to be really careful and figure out which pit of snakes is the least venomous to jump into.¡±


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    A few moments of silence reigned as Coleman tilted his head and furrowed his brow, but it was Bennett who voiced their collective thoughts. "Where we are now doesn¡¯t seem too bad, so why don¡¯t we just keep going as is?" He asked, tightening the last screw in the device he was installing. ¡°We got a roof over our head, cover that keeps us more or less.¡±


    "Ya, but for how long?" Elijah answered Bennett¡¯s question with his own. ¡°It¡¯s really not the simple dude. We have every type of dickhead to deal with and their mom.¡° He said, rubbing his forehead. ¡°Greedy scumbags? I can manipulate. Honorbound justicars? I can predict. But those two mixed with people just trying to get by? Get¡¯s a little dicey, you know?"


    With his thoughts already racing, Elijah leaned further in and continued his point. ¡°I mean¡­ Even if we turn these guys against their masters, then what? We''ve got a bunch of unpredictable, potentially VERY violent elements running around. Some might join us, sure, but others might decide to set themselves up as King Turd of Shit Mountain, and we end up creating more problems than we solve before we have any semblance of support."


    Bennett huffed in annoyance. "So what''s the play then? We can¡¯t just ignore everyone and squat on the rooves.¡±


    ¡°No shit, Sherlock,¡± Elijah rolled his eyes as he adjusted himself. "I¡¯m not saying we ignore. I¡¯m saying we use the resentment the Imperials built up to sniff out who is best to work with."


    Coleman hummed in thought as the two started to bicker quietly. ¡°I think we should position ourselves as the alternative. The saviors, if you will.¡± He interjected, causing Bennett and Elijah to look at him and raise an eyebrow. "Eli is already positioning us to be the good guys. We can just do what we did back in the village and solve a few problems to win a few favors.¡±


    Elijah thought on that for a moment. It was a good plan, and they definitely were in a position to capitalize on it, but the question became one of time and time wasn¡¯t a luxury they had. "That¡¯ll only work if we find collaborators quickly enough without causing a huge disruption.¡± He replied. ¡°But my biggest concern is more about how the powers that be deciding whether it¡¯s go time or not and start flinging cruise missiles everywhere..."


    "Don¡¯t worry about that. I¡¯ll set something up," Coleman reassured his men. "Command is taking a considerable interest in this place, and they won''t say no to coordinating with us. Especially if that means disrupting supply routes just when the offensive starts. We hit everyone simultaneously and take out the Imperials and the town guard in one fell swoop."


    Now that the planning had taken a more conventional turn, Coleman left a lot more comfortable giving his input. Elijah knew Coleman wasn¡¯t very comfortable with the terribly grey lines associated with the cloaks and daggers-like aspects of Advanced Force Operations they found themselves thrust into. He was a lot more comfortable around the more traditional Special Forces mission sets and not tasks that would usually belong to spookier teams within JSOC or the CIA¡¯s Special Activities Center (SAC).


    The three men fell silent, and each contemplated the implications of their plan. It was risky and complex and would require a heavy lean on Elijah, but if they could pull it off, they''d not only secure a foothold for the conventional army but also play a decisive hand in winning over the population when the tanks rolled in.


    Bennett sat there with a complex expression as he tried to think this through. He was passable in the human aspects of his profession, but most of what was talking about went entirely over his head.


    "So... wait..." he began hesitantly. "How do we turn and leverage the people then?" He was confused and didn''t understand how the population was supposed to love them. He looked to Coleman as if to see if he wondered the same. "How are we supposed to win over the townsfolk and maintain order once we take out everyone?"


    Coleman seemed to know the answer as he wore a hard look, deep in thought. "The gangs." He replied for Elijah who seemed to just sit there unconcerned. The team leader knew that Elijah worked in a very unorganized and decentralized way, but there was always a bigger picture where the pieces fell into place.


    Noticing his engineer was having trouble following, Coleman sighed and started explaining. "Well, look at it this way," Coleman began as he adjusted himself. ¡°We all know this town is gang-infested, right?"


    "In a lot of cases with crime-riddled areas, gangs usually act as the de facto authority. For better or for worse, they''re the ones that people usually go to whenever they need problems solved." Coleman paused, letting that sink in. "You¡¯d think that¡¯d be the town guard, and they would clamp down on the gangs, but usually they run hand in hand with them or just act as an outright containment force.¡±


    Bennett¡¯s confusion caused his face to twist even further. He could understand that this town¡¯s law enforcement was corrupt and worked with criminals for their own self-interest, not as a containment force. ¡°Wait, what? What do you mean by a containment force?¡±


    Interrupting the discussion, Elijah tapped on Coleman¡¯s shoulder and jerked his head for them to leave before looking at Bennett. "Yo, we should get the hell out of here first." He said, scanning the area before glancing at the installed module. "Probably isn¡¯t a good idea to be skylined when we don¡¯t have to. Plus, we can talk more as we move."


    The two operators nodded in agreement and began to pack up. "Yeah, let''s get the hell out of here," Coleman replied as he started dismantling the JETS device and placed each part carefully into a pack.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the three men to go from utterly suspicious to just another body in an already dangerous area before carefully making their way down a shoddy wooden ladder. As they descended into a dark, dank alleyway, the trio found themselves between two buildings with a stone wall connecting them and acting as a dead end.


    After confirming the coast was clear and they weren¡¯t followed, Elijah started to make his way through the alley with Coleman and Bennett in tow.


    "Let me think of a way to explain what Coleman was talking about." Elijah started in a low voice, keeping an eye out for any curious heads popping out from the numerous windows. "You see, the town guard isn''t really there to eliminate or even reduce crime. They''re here to contain it, to keep it at a manageable level."


    Bennett caught up with Elijah and raised his eyebrow as if that didn¡¯t make any sense. ¡°Isn¡¯t the point of Law Enforcement to you know¡­¡± The engineer paused as he leaned forward to look at Coleman. ¡°Enforce the law?¡±


    "Yaaaaa¡­ you¡¯d imagine, but¡­ Think of it this way: you''ve got a leaky pipe, right?" Elijah continued, turning to Bennett who nodded his head. "The smart thing would be to just fix the pipe, right?¡± Elijah waited for Bennett to nod his head again. ¡°But here¡¯s the thing, that''s expensive and time-consuming. And people with rhe money and power really don¡¯t like using it. So instead, they put a bucket under the pipe and call it a day."


    If Bennett could rate on a scale of 1 to 10 how stupid he thought that was when put into context of enforcing the law and protecting the town, then he was afraid the scale would break. ¡°What the fuck? So this place is just the fucking thunderdome?¡± He asked, completely bewildered "They¡¯re just keeping these assholes in here so they don¡¯t have to look at them?"


    An amused chuckle left Elijah¡¯s mouth after seeing such a reaction. ¡°Ahahaha, ya more or less." He nodded before peering around an intersection to make sure it was clear. "The Imperials, and probably whoever was in charge before them, couldn¡¯t give a rats ass about maintaining law and order or protecting the people. They just want it to look clean from the outside."


    Coleman chimed in, "It''s about maintaining the illusion of order without actually addressing the root problems. It''s cheaper and easier than real reform."


    Bennett thought for a moment as the gears churned in his head. ¡°So basically Detroit?¡±


    The team leader opened his mouth to dismiss that but couldn¡¯t help but find how apt of a comparison that was as his eyebrows danced up and down. ¡°Ye¡­ Yeah¡­ Yeah, pretty much Detroit.¡± He hesitantly agreed.


    ¡°Or Chicago.¡± Elijah ribbed the two in the side as the three laughed.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until they reached the intersection that led them to the main road. But leaning against the walls of either side were two individuals, one a lot shorter than the other, giving the three operators a bored look.


    The shorter of the two that were waiting at the end of the alleyway pushed off the wall and oriented himself towards the approaching humans. "You guys finally done?" he asked while running a tired hand through the tuft of feathers. ¡°Can we go now?¡±


    A deep and rumbling yawn resounded as the taller one joined his shorter companion "Ahhh, quit complaining, Ryff. They''re paying us handsomely to sit around and wait."


    The Stymph frowned and glared at his partner with a frown and his on his hips. ¡°Look! I¡¯m grateful for any kind of work, but¡­!¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re bored,¡± Elijah finished for him rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I get it. Let''s get out of here," he said, nodding to Ryffka and Talarion.


    As the group merged together, Coleman took point, leading them down the main road while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Elijah fell in step beside Ryffka and Talarion, keeping his voice low.


    "Any trouble while you were waiting?" Coleman asked as his eyes constantly scanned their surroundings.


    Ryffka shook his head. "Nah, quiet as a tomb.¡± He responded in a disinterested tone. ¡°Few drunks stumbled by, but they didn''t give us a second glance." He replied before shooting a curious look at Elijah. "What were you doing in there anyway?"


    ¡°Nunya.¡± Elijah replied with a smirk that caused both Coleman and Bennett to sigh.


    A strange look formed on Ryffka''s face as he titled his head. ¡°Nunya?¡±


    ¡°NUN YA GOD DAMN BUSINESS! SHUT UP!¡± Elijah barked, causing Ryffka to cover his ears with his hands with a startled look.


    Talarion let out a howl of a laugh as he slapped his leg as Ryffka shot an indignant look his way. "Ahaha! That¡¯s a new one!"


    Elijah gave them a playful smile. "You, like that one?" He said, resting his hands on the back of his head in a relaxed manner as they maid their way down the road.


    Ryffka continued to grumble as he smoothed out his ruffled feathers. ¡°You¡¯re so annoying¡­¡± He murmured before heaving a sigh.


    Talarion nodded as he continued to chuckle. "Hey, it could be worse Ryff!" He added as he regained his composure. ¡°Could be still unemployed or still running from the Imperials.¡±


    This caused Elijah to lift and eyebrow in their direction. ¡°Damn, nobody here likes ¡®em do they?¡± He asked


    The green hair elf scoffed, "Pfft, hah! We both burned our bridges with the empire long ago!" Talarion laughed as he gestured to Ryffka and himself, "we''re as good as dead if those bastards caught us."


    ¡°Tal!¡± The Stymph scolded his friend for letting out too much information.


    However, Talarion just rolled his eyes. ¡°Oh come on Ryff, not like they¡¯re gonna be sharin¡¯ or tellin¡¯. As the man said, nobody here likes ¡®em.¡± He said, adjusting the belt that held his two-handed Falchion. ¡°As I said, we''re not particularly keen on crossing paths with them again.¡±


    Ryffka grumbled once more as his glare relented. ¡°I can¡¯t say we¡¯re in the best graces with the Empire¡­¡± He admitted with a sigh. ¡°Right now, we¡¯re just trying to get some funds together to make our way to Aldenshore."


    This key piece of information seemed to stand out to Elijah as continued the conversation in a more casual manner. ¡°What¡¯s for you in Aldenshore?¡± He asked assuming that was a particularly important place. ¡°Got a big gig lined up?¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­.¡± Talarion scratched his face in a somewhat bashful manner. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything lined up per se, but¡­ we still want to make a name for ourselves and make it big.¡±


    Elijah narrowed his eyes for a split second, absorbing the key piece of info. ¡°Anything new happening there other than the usual?¡±


    ¡°What, you didn¡¯t hear?¡± This time Ryffka spoke up as he looked at Elijah as if he was a country bumpkin. ¡°A really big and really important lord kicked everyone out of the castle and moved in for herself.¡± He said, causing Elijah and Coleman to hone in on the Stymph. ¡°Supposed to be in charge of defending all of the savage lands or whatever.¡±


    That key piece of intel caused Elijah and Coleman to react physically, as they both seemed to recoil. They needed to press further and see what else they could get from this guy, but before they could continue, the sight of the Tavern finally came into view.


    However, everyone seemed to tense up when they noticed something was off. A lot more people than usual were lingering at the entrance, including a few faces they recognized, and that sign didn¡¯t bode well.


    This was compounded when Pi?a trotted over with a troubled look. ¡°G-Guys! You got company inside!¡± she said, fidgeting nervously. ¡°Somethin¡¯ about giving you your answer!¡±


    Elijah glanced over his shoulder to Coleman and Bennett and gave them a nod before pulling his neck gaitor over his nose. The silent communication seemed to shift the humans into another gear as they approached the door with a purpose, eyeing the unknown men flanking the doors.


    Even Ryffka and Talarion sensed the heightened awareness was out of place as their postures stiffened and their hands went to their weapons. They were still on the job and would do their best to defend their client as they moved closer to the tavern door.


    The thugs idling outside seemed to square up with the two freelancers but immediately relented once they finally noticed the familiar masked figure approaching.


    ¡°Ya kept our boss waitin¡¯¡± A large, gruff man said, thumping his large makeshift mace into the ground.


    It was a decent attempt at intimidation, but no one bought it as Talarion huffed in amusement as he positioned himself at the perfect distance to slash at the man''s neck on the first sign of trouble. Ryffka stood a bit further back, reciting a wind spell that would cleave his unarmored opponent in two in his own head over and over again.


    When Elijah grabbed the door handle and cracked it open, his hand went to his waistline, and he saw that the place had been cleaned out, save for the horde of thugs strategically positioned throughout the dining hall. Coming in behind him were Coleman and Bennett with their pistols already subtly drawn, but the tension seemed to be kicked down a notch when they noticed Azelin in the corner.


    The woman stood with an air of nonchalant confidence as she leaned against the ballistic shield Elijah had given her and bounced her sword on her shoulder. Even though she seemed relaxed, her eyes remained sharp and alert as she constantly moved between the room''s occupants.


    Seated at the central tables sat Brak and Ferei. The two gang leaders sat across from Kwon, sipping on some ale while the rest of the ODA team was spread throughout the tavern.


    "We¡¯d like to negotiate," Ferei spoke first with barely contained irritation and impatience.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 93

    Ferei eyed a lethargic, strange-looking pixie with a mix of wariness and intrigue as it rubbed its eyes and munched on one of the tavern''s signature pastries. The tiny creature seemed oblivious to the tension in the room and was focused entirely on its treat as it munched away before letting out a deep yawn.


    Even though Ferei had never laid eyes on a pixie before, she still knew something wasn¡¯t quite right with this one. Everything about it was unsettling¡­ from the flames in place of hair, the eerie violet, glowing eyes, and the most sinister smile one could possibly imagine.


    This pixie looked like it¡¯d take your soul with a smile faster than one could blink.


    Shaking her head, Ferei refocused on the hooded figure before her. "Before I agree to workin¡¯ for you," she began, trying to keep her voice as steady and confident as possible, "I need assurances¡­ I need to know yer not gonna use us as some kinda scapegoat and leave us for fodder after kicking the Rotwing nest.¡±


    Elijah leaned back with a relaxed yet commanding posture. His eyes remained sharp as she stared at Ferei with a sharp and knowing glint. He''d been in her shoes before, on the other side of negotiations where every word could mean whether you were literally owned or not. The familiarity of the dance, despite the alien setting, brought a subtle smirk to his lips.


    "Assurances?" A chuckle left his mouth as he spoke. "Let me be clear, Ferei. We''re not here to bargain. We''re here to offer you an opportunity that doesn''t come around twice." He said with an underlying steel that brooked no argument


    A panicked look flashed across Ferei¡¯s face as her mouth opened to say something, but Elijah decided to cut her off. "Look, Ferei. There are two kinds of people: those who make moves and those who get moved.¡± He said very slowly as his finger tapped down on the tabletop slowly and methodically. ¡°Right now, you''re in a position to make a move. To step up from being just another punk ass bitch snatching a purse just to keep from selling yourself.¡±


    ¡°Cause let¡¯s be fuckin¡¯ honest here.¡± Elijah continued gesturing to everyone around him. ¡°You¡¯re all here because you don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    Elijah leaned forward with a smirk that said he was genuinely enjoying himself. His eyes locked onto Ferei and Brak. There was an intensity that made them both shift uncomfortably in their seats. They couldn¡¯t quite place the feeling, but there was¡­ something about this person that was just as unsettling as Pixie sitting on the table. There was an air about him that made their skin crawl as if they were staring into an unknowable abyss.


    "Let''s call a spade a spade, shall we?" his voice took on a harder edge. "You''re not bargaining with a third-party stranger over here because you''re in a position of strength. You''re here because you''re barely holding on."


    He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "You''re losing influence and authority, not just with the townsfolk you''re hustling, but..."


    Elijah''s gaze shifted deliberately to some gang members lingering in the background. Several of them averted their eyes, unable to meet his piercing stare.


    "...with your own people," he finished his voice low but carrying clearly through the now-silent tavern.


    Turning back to Ferei and Brak, Elijah''s expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained sharp. "I took care of one of your problems earlier, Ferei," he said, pointing directly at her. "So let''s not play games here."


    The atmosphere in the tavern shifted palpably after Elijah''s blunt assessment. Everyone seemed to be on edge, the air thick with tension and unspoken threats.


    Ferei''s face was contorted with a mix of offense and fear when this bastard put her against a wall with just a few words. This was a truth she was desperately trying to cover up, and no matter which way she spun it, this disrespect would severely damage her authority.


    Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the reactions of her people. Some averted their gaze, unable to meet her eyes, while others wore expressions of newfound doubt or calculation.


    ¡°Y-You! Gimme a good reason I shouldn¡¯t gut ya right here, right now!?¡± Ferei did her best to snap a threat, but even she knew it fell flaccid.


    No one else could see it, but a sadistic smile spread across Elijah¡¯s as he watched the anxiety flash across Ferei''s face. Not a single one of her people said a word or even moved a finger in her defense. Everyone knew, even Ferei herself, with a sickening certainty, that her crew was slowly turning their backs on her.


    It was only a matter of time before she was replaced, and if she lost her grip on power, she knew exactly what awaited her. She''d either end up dead in some ditch or, worse, forced back into ¡®work¡¯ for the people she once ordered around. The thought of being some crew''s loanable toy, to be used and abused at will.


    Satisfied with his little power play, Elijah leaned in closer, boring into Ferei¡¯s eyes as she tried to find an escape. "When was the last time you paid them?" he asked in a low and probing voice. "You give them steady work?"


    Ferei''s mouth opened, but no words came out. She seemed to shrink in on herself slightly.


    ¡°How many of your people ate today?¡±


    ¡°How many have a safe place to sleep tonight?"


    The woman¡¯s blood went cold when her eyes darted around the room, and she saw that the members of her gang hadn¡¯t met her gaze.


    "You running protection rackets? Smuggling operations?" Elijah continued, his questions coming rapid-fire. "Or are you just¡­ doing shaking downs for whatever scraps you can get?"


    A long silence ensued as Elijah looked over at a few of the gang members standing around and started to laugh slowly. It was as if he legitimately thought it was funny. Mirth was in his eyes as his head looked around at the seemingly unamused faces. ¡°Ahahahaha¡­ Man, that must suck.¡± He said while pinching the bridge of his nose.


    Elijah''s laughter finally died down as he shook his head, and his expression shifted to one of bemused resignation. "Okay, you know what," he shifted gears and took a businesslike approach before motioning to the two gang leaders with his other hand in a beckoning gesture. "What do you want? What are your terms? We''ll see if I agree to them or not."


    The abrupt change in Elijah''s demeanor caught everyone off guard.


    Ferei was still visibly shaken from Elijah''s earlier fusillade of questions and struggled to gather her thoughts. Her mouth continued to flap like a fish as she tried to regain her composure. "I... we..." She stammered while Brak''s eyes narrowed with disdain.


    The gruff gangster had never truly respected her and saw her as nothing more than as a whore who had lucked her way into power. Now, watching her flounder, he saw his opportunity. "Enough of your blubbering." Brak growled, cutting Ferei off before turning to Elijah.


    Brak¡¯s gaze was hard and calculating as laid out exactly what was on his mind. "Here''s what I  want," he said, emphasizing the ''I.''


    He then stood up and leaned forward, causing his wirey frame to seem domineering at the table. "First, I want territory. When this is over, I get the lion''s share of Glennsworth. The prime spots, the best rackets." He spat as held up a solitary finger.


    To his credit, Elijah remained completely unphased and just gave a look that said he was bored as Brak threw up a second finger. "Second I want immunity. Whatever goes down, I wanna walk away clean. No repercussions, no questions asked."


    Push the chair back, Brak then began to pace before another finger went up. ¡°Third, I want a cut of whatever you''re bringing in. You''re obviously here for something big, and I want my piece of it." He demanded as he shot a look at Azeline and licked his lips.


    He wanted to request one more thing, but he was no fool. So, instead, he turned his gaze to Ferei and smirked as a fourth finger went up. ¡°And finally, She works for me now. Consider it part of the deal." He said as he looked her up and down, deciding she¡¯d have to suffice.


    A horrified look flashed across Ferei¡¯s face as her worst nightmare came to pass.


    Elijah''s gaze then shifted to Ferei, who looked at her people with desperate and pleading eyes, but not a single soul would defend her. It was clear the power dynamics had shifted dramatically. The winds of change were blowing, and they weren¡¯t going to be left up shit creek without a paddle. even sneering at her


    Ferei opened her mouth to protest, but a yelp left her mouth one of Ferei''s own people, a burly man with a scar across his face, sneered at her obvious desperation and grabbed her by the hair. "What do you want us to do with her, boss?" he asked Brak, completely ignoring Ferei''s presence.


    All the color drained from Ferei¡¯s face as her worst nightmare unfolded before her eyes. Her people had abandoned her, and it was turning to look like she was going to become property once more as their new leader, Brak, appraised her.


    If he was being honest with himself, Elijah couldn¡¯t be bothered with the internal politics of some backwater podunk gang. He couldn¡¯t muster the ability to care who was in charge or what happened to Ferei. He needed work done, and if Brak was now the one calling the shots, so be it as long as he did what Elijah needed him to do.


    However, Brak¡¯s type was a problem.


    Elijah watched the scene unfold with detached interest and growing concern. The combination of Brak''s ambitious narcissism and ruthless, calculating opportunism was a dangerous cocktail that he was keenly aware of. Such a personality was volatile, unpredictable, and often prone to overreaching. These traits could jeopardize the delicate operation Elijah was orchestrating in any number of ways, from drawing undue attention to shoving a knife in their back because of short-sighted profit.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    His eyes flicked to Ferei, who was now a picture of defeat and desperation. In his position, she would be easier to control. Her recent fall from power and the betrayal of her own people had left her vulnerable, malleable. She would be grateful for any lifeline to come out of this unscathed let alone a chance to regain some semblance of authority or respect. This gratitude could be leveraged, and her desperation channeled into loyalty and obedience.


    Moreover, Ferei has demonstrated a certain level of competence in maintaining her position until now. She might lack Brak''s raw ambition, but she has shown an ability to navigate the complex web of gang politics¡ªa skill that could be valuable if properly directed.


    A prolonged bout of silence reigned as Elijah weighed the pros and cons of each potential leader. Brak offered immediate control over a unified gang but at the cost of potential instability and unreliability. Ferei, on the other hand, represented a more controllable asset, one that could be molded to suit his needs.


    Elijah had slowly drifted towards his pistol as he continued to consider what to do. He had already decided Brak would die, but it was just a matter of how and when.


    As a matter of fact, his instincts screamed at him to take care of Brak sooner rather than later before he could become a bigger problem. But he recognized that now wasn''t the most optimal time, even as his impulse begged him to act. Sliding his hand away from his concealed weapon, he settled on a plan to take Brak out quickly and quietly at a more opportune moment.


    Turning his attention to Ferei, Elijah knew he couldn¡¯t let this piece of shit get his hands on her. She was a lot more capable than most of her crew realized. Maintaining her position and navigating the complex gang politics during such austere conditions demonstrated a level of competence everyone else ignored.


    If he could ¡®save¡¯ her when she was the most desperate and insecure, then it would go a long way to making her a controllable asset where he could harness her competencies.


    ¡°Let¡¯s talk about your requests in order, shall we?." Elijah began, deciding to redirect Brak''s mind to another topic and off Ferei for the moment. "You mention territories with all the best spots for rackets¡­ I believe we can work something out, but you¡¯re gonna have to earn it.¡±


    With eyes glinting with greed and anticipation, Brak leaned forward, hanging on to every word from this stranger. He had already done him a great service, so it was only right to put his new boys to good use.


    Tapping his finger on the table in a rhythmic fashion, Elijah looked to set the tempo. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve found yourself with a¡­ sizable increase in bodies.¡± He started watching Ferei¡¯s face distort as she began to shiver. ¡°We can potentially start making moves.¡±


    Brak looked around the table at his newly acquired crew, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "Aye, aye," he said, puffing up with pride. "I believe I got a sizable number under me command now... I believe I can get these boys to work."


    Elijah nodded, his face impassive. "Good," he said, his voice level. "Because I need the rest of these gangs gone."


    The smile on Brak''s face quickly fell, replaced by an outraged look. He opened his mouth to protest, but Elijah cut him off before he could speak.


    "Relax," Elijah preemptively commanded preemptively. "I''ll handle the hard part. I just need you to find out t he the who and the where."


    Recognizing that Brak wasn¡¯t picking up what he was putting down, Elijah leaned forward and pointed at the mangy man. "Your job is to clean up and take credit for whatever happens.¡± He said with a steely gaze. ¡°Give me the info of who they are, where they operate and their key players."


    He paused, letting this sink in. "When it''s done, you''ll step in. You''ll be the one seen consolidating power, taking over their territories.¡± Elijah explained, emphasizing each point with a point of his finger. ¡°To the outside world, it''ll look like you''ve masterfully outmaneuvered your rivals."


    Brak smacked his tongue hungrily as he looked around the room at the newly assembled men and women of his gang. His eyes gleamed with a predatory delight as he imagined how to use each of them to his advantage. The man was basically salivating on exercising this newfound power.


    "Aye, aye," Brak drawled, his voice oily with self-satisfaction. "I reckon I can get these sorry lot to do whatever needs doin''. But let''s talk about somethin'' more... substantial." He leaned forward, licking his lips. "Let''s talk about my cut."


    His eyes darted around the room, lingering lecherously on some of the female gang members and a few of the lingering working girls in the tavern before settling back on Elijah. "After all, a man''s gotta eat, don''t he? And I got... expensive tastes, if you catch my meanin''."


    A rhythmic beat echoed out as Brak drummed his fingers on the table, leaving grimy smudges on the wood with each tap. "I know ye be up to some shifty shite, so I''m thinkin'' a nice fat cut of whatever ya pullin'' in.¡± He stopped drumming and paused for dramatic effect ¡°Say... 60%? That seems fair, don''t it? After all, I''m the one puttin'' my neck on the line here."


    A flash of disbelief passed as Elijah''s eyes met Azeline''s. They simply stared at each other for a heartbeat, processing Brak''s words. Then, almost in sync, their lips twitched, shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.


    Elijah chuckled softly in bewilderment as he raised a hand, signaling Brak to pause. "Sixty percent?" he echoed, his voice tinged with amusement and incredulity.


    Azeline''s eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head slowly as if trying to make sense of what she''d just heard.


    "Oh, that''s..." Azeline started, trailing off as she searched for the right word. She settled for a snort, her eyes rolling skyward.


    Elijah turned back to Brak, his expression a mix of amusement and pity. "Let me make sure I understand this correctly," he said, his tone reminiscent of an adult addressing a particularly slow child. "You want sixty percent of... what, exactly?"


    He leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips. The man even started drumming his fingers on the table in the same rhythmic fashion that Brak had done earlier, as if mocking him.


    ¡°Do you even know what you¡¯re trying to get a ¡®cut¡¯ of?¡± Elijah laughed, looking at each gang member who seemed to shift uncomfortably. ¡°How much of a fuckin¡¯ amateur can you get if you don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re bargaining for?¡±


    Brak''s face turned a deep shade of red, his ego clearly bruised by Elijah and Azeline''s mockery. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his rage.


    "Ye fuckin¡¯ make a clown of me!? Ye think I be a funny man!?" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "I''ll show ye what''s funny, ya smug bastard!" He rose from his seat, his body tensing as if preparing to lunge across the table.


    But before he could move, Brak noticed that a sword was already ready, resting on his shoulder in a lethargic manner as a soft, feminine giggle rang out.


    "Oh, aren''t you just precious?" Azeline cooed with a voice dripping with affection. "The little man thinks he''s scary.¡±


    She gently pressed her sword against Braks neck until it drew a little blood. "Tell me, darling, do you always throw tantrums when you don''t get your way? Or is this a special performance just for us?"


    Brak stared at Azeline''s sword that jutted out in front of him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the realization that this woman was no longer leaning against the wall, but standing right next to him. He blinked hard as his mind struggled to comprehend how she had moved so quickly and silently. One moment, she was across the room; the next, she was close enough to draw blood.


    As he scanned the room, he noticed the terrified expressions on his gang members'' faces. Fear was sprayed all over their faces as their eyes remained fixed on the blonde elf. Some had even stepped back, trying to distance themselves from what might happen next.


    Suddenly, Brak found that his throat was dry. He had dismissed Azeline as mere eye candy with a sword, a decorative piece meant to intimidate through appearance rather than skill. Now, as he felt the subtle press of her blade against his side, he realized he may just have misjudged the situation.


    "You... you can''t..." Brak sputtered, his earlier bravado crumbling in the face of Azeline''s casual


    threat.


    "Can''t what?" Azeline pressed her blade harder against the thug''s neck. "Can''t put you in your place? Can''t remind you that you''re playing in a league way above your pay grade?" She smiled gleefully as more blood dripped down his neck. "Oh, sweetie, we absolutely can. And we will if you don''t start showing some respect."


    Elijah sat back in a relaxed posture, but his eyes were hard and cold. He regarded Brak with a mixture of disappointment and disdain, clearly unimpressed by the man''s bravado and subsequent crumbling.


    With a heavy sigh, Elijah spoke, his voice calm but laced with steel. "I don''t think you really understand our relationship here, Brak."


    As he spoke, Elijah''s hand flicked around the tavern, drawing attention to the previously ignored members of his ODA scattered throughout the room. The gang had apparently forgotten there were others and eyed each mysterious figure as they pointed their weird weapons at them.


    "I''m giving terms because I''m a reasonable businessman," Elijah continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "Do not give me a reason not to be."


    Brak remained silent, his eyes shifting nervously between Azeline''s blade and Elijah, not daring to move a muscle.


    Shaking his head, Elijah quietly muttered ¡®Amateurs¡¯ before letting out an exhausted sigh. "Here''s what''s going to happen. You''ll agree to whatever terms or payment I dictate. You can have whatever territory you want as long as it doesn''t encroach on this tavern. Otherwise, I couldn''t give two shits about your little kingdom or whatever."


    He paused, letting his words sink in. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, everyone holding their breath, waiting to see how Brak would respond.


    After what felt like an eternity, Brak finally spoke a shaky voice. "Alright," he said, trying to inject some bravado into his tone but failing miserably. "Alright, we''ll do it your way. For now." He attempted to puff out his chest, a last-ditch effort to save face. "But don''t think this is over. I''m still the boss around here, and my boys know it."


    Elijah let out a derisive laugh, dropping his head and shaking it in disbelief. He threw his hand dismissively as if shooing away an annoying fly. "Just fuck off, bro," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.


    Brak, attempting to salvage some dignity, lifted his chin in an arrogant fashion as Azeline''s sword withdrew from his neck. He strode over to Ferei, grabbing her by the hair roughly. "Come, whore!" he snarled. "I''m gonna need some relief after this."


    Ferei yelped in pain and fear as she was forcibly lifted, horror etched across her face. But before Brak could drag her away, Elijah''s voice cut through the room like a whip.


    "Nuh-uh," he said firmly. "She stays here."


    Brak whirled around, his face contorting with rage and frustration. "What? Have ye gon¡¯ daft!?" He growled, turning to Elijah. "Her people are my people now, so she belongs to ME!"


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a single fuck.¡± Elijah shot back in an amused tone. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her to chop your head off. Is that what you want? Let the bitch go.¡±


    Staring hard at Elijah with undisguised hatred, Brak stood there as he yanked on Ferei¡¯s hair in agitation, causing a yelp in pain. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the men with strange weapons and that infernal woman who looked at him like an insect with a smile on her face. He was the type to push it to the absolute limit, but now, Brak felt that he should just cut his losses while still ahead.


    Before Brak could decide, Elijah spoke again calmly, brooking no argument. "She works for me now, Brak. Don¡¯t make me start counting."


    Brak''s face contorted with rage and frustration. A low, guttural growl escaped his throat as he roughly shoved Ferei away from him. She stumbled, barely catching herself on a nearby table, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.


    "Fine!" Brak snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Have yer fucking whore!"


    He spun around, his eyes blazing as he surveyed the room. "Let¡¯s git!" he barked, motioning towards the door.


    Without waiting for a response, Brak stormed towards the exit. He reached the door, grabbing the handle with such force it seemed he might rip it off its hinges. With a violent shove, he threw the door open, the wood slamming against the outer wall with a resounding bang.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 94

    It was already edging close to the afternoon as the late morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Glennsworth.


    For Ferei, the night prior had been long, sleepless, and full of uncertainty, but now she found herself face-to-face with a new opportunity. An opportunity that was still precarious and fraught with danger, but it gave her a chance at survival without enduring the horrors and abuse a woman like her might endure outside of Mara¡¯s walls.


    Standing in front of the tavern''s heavy wooden doors, she couldn''t help but feel a deep sense of dread and anxiety wash over her. The poor woman¡¯s breath caught in her throat as her hand trembled, hovering just a bit over the door handle. Beyond this threshold lay a world she had once commanded but now would have to navigate as an outsider.


    The irony wasn''t lost on her. Ferei was willfully leaving sanctuary and was stepping out from the relative safety of Mara''s establishment to fulfill her new role as a liaison. No longer would she enjoy the perks and protection that came with being a gang leader. Instead, she would be facing the very thugs she once commanded, the same ones who had willfully abandoned her and handed her over to Brak on a silver platter.


    A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought. It was bound to happen sooner or later, she knew. The world she inhabited was cruel and unforgiving, with loyalty as fleeting as morning mist. Her new boss had merely sped up the process but, in doing so, had also extended a hand of safety. She might have been overwhelmingly grateful for this chance if she were a lesser woman.


    And to some extent, she was. But gratitude was a luxury she couldn''t afford to indulge in, not in this world, and certainly not with someone like Elijah. He was a predator that lurked in the shadows, eyeing each and every move you made as if looking for any sign of a slip-up. Clearly, he was several steps ahead of everyone and operated on another level. A level that was above Brak''s, above her own, and even above Mara''s.


    Especially with that blonde northern woman with him¡­


    Ferei took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She couldn''t afford to show weakness, not now, not when she knew that scumbag Brak would be looking for any sign of vulnerability.


    With a final moment of hesitation, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped out into the bustling streets. But just as her eyes adjusted to the lights, her heart skipped a beat when she saw her new boss speaking with her new ¡®colleagues¡¯ in a rather animated fashion.


    Just in front of her boss was a teal-feathered Stymph and a scruffy, green-haired Sun Elf with pursed lips as they listened to whatever instructions they were receiving. The two were supposedly her new ¡®colleagues¡¯ and were her protection whenever she conducted whatever business she would be tasked with.


    "...I just need you guys to keep her safe." Elijah''s words carried on the breeze, causing Ferei''s stomach to tighten. ¡°I don¡¯t really care if you kill anyone, but I guess I can throw in a bonus if you don''t.¡± The casual mention of potential violence was a stark reminder of the world she was re-entering.


    As if sensing her presence, Elijah''s head turned, his eyes locking onto Ferei. The intensity of his gaze made her want to shrink back into the tavern, but she forced herself to stand tall. This was her new reality, and she would face it head-on, no matter how much it terrified her.


    "Ah, good morning," Elijah greeted her as his tone shifted to something almost cordial. "Ready to get started?"


    Ferei swallowed hard as she eyed her new employer. She had expected someone a lot¡­ dirty and rough underneath that mask. As a matter of fact, this Elijah could pass off as some merchant or a lesser noble¡¯s son who went around town seducing women and breaking hearts as he pleased.


    "Y¡­ Yes¡­" she responded rigidly as she kept her distance.


    Elijah folded his arms as his eyes looked her up and down appraisingly. His gaze was analytical, almost clinical, as if he were assessing a piece of merchandise rather than a person. It made Ferei''s skin crawl, but she forced herself to remain under his scrutiny.


    A deep breath left his nostrils as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. The gesture seemed casual, but there was a calculated air to it that put Ferei on edge. After what felt like an eternity, Elijah spoke again.


    "You know," he began, his voice low and even, "you don''t have to work for me if you don''t want to. I''m not going to force you to do anything."


    Ferei blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected statement. For a moment, hope fluttered in her chest - was this an out? A chance to walk away from this precarious arrangement?


    But then Elijah continued, "You can leave when you want. I won''t stop you."


    And just like that, Ferei felt the hope wither and die. She might not have been as cunning as Elijah, but she wasn''t naive. The double meaning in his words was clear as day. It was a subtle threat, artfully disguised as a generous offer. She realized with a sinking feeling that while she might be free to leave his employ, she would also be forfeiting any protection he offered.


    And she knew Brak would be watching¡­ waiting¡­


    Ferei swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Elijah''s gaze. "I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I want to work for you."


    "I''m sorry. Can you repeat that?" Elijah said, stepping closer and turning his ear towards her. His proximity made Ferei''s skin prickle with unease.


    Swallowing hard, Ferei lifted her eyes from the ground, forcing herself to look at Elijah''s chin - the closest she could manage to make eye contact. "I want to work for you," she repeated louder and firmer this time as she balled her fist and tensed up.


    A gentle yet sinister smile spread across Elijah''s face as he turned to face her fully. "Excellent," he replied, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "Then let''s get started, shall we?"


    "Yes, let''s¡­" Ferei responded, injecting a forced energy into her voice. She could feel Elijah''s gaze boring into her, assessing her every reaction.


    Elijah looked between her and her two supposed guards with an unreadable expression. "This op is simple," he began, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. "Ferei is to deliver a message to Brak, indicating her new role, and she is not to be touched by anyone.¡± He paused with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he focused on the green-haired elf and stymph. ¡°An attack on her will be considered an attack on me."


    He then turned to Ferei and regarded her for a moment. "You know what I mean by that and how to deliver this message, right?" The question was clearly rhetorical, knowing that Ferei had already seen what he was capable of.


    Ferei felt a chill run down her spine. She knew exactly what Elijah was implying. The message wasn''t just about words; it was about presence and the subtle but unmistakable threat that Elijah''s protection represented. She was to walk into Brak''s territory not as a cowering ex-gang leader but as an emissary of a power that even Brak would have to respect ¨C or fear.


    "Yes, boss." She replied in a tone that projected more confidence than what she actually felt. "I¡¯ll make sure he gets the message."


    Elijah''s smile widened like a predator that was pleased its prey accepted their fate. "Good," he nodded before turning to Ryffka and Talarion "Ryff, Tal, your objectives are to make sure she comes out of this unscathed, even if the piece of shit decides he wants to be cute."


    Talarion gave a nonchalant nod. "Yep, got it," he replied casually, as if Elijah had just asked him to run a simple errand.


    Beside him, Ryffka blinked slowly as if still trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. The Stymph let out a deep and sleepy yawn before nodding in agreement.


    A strange look clouded Ferei¡¯s face as she watched the two freelancer¡¯s relaxed responses. They seemed oddly familiar and out of place to her, given the gravity of the situation, but Elijah didn''t seem fazed. It made Ferei further question who this man really was.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    However, her musing was cut short when Elijah¡¯s gaze returned to her. "Alright¡­ Now, after you deliver the message to that shitlord," Elijah continued, his voice low and deliberate, "you are to instruct Brak to meet you at dusk. We¡¯ll brief you beforehand, but you¡¯ll offer him and discuss the amount he and his people will be paid."


    ¡°Specifically, as soon as the sun touches the horizon, he is to meet you at the fruit stall just in front of that big ass statue in the middle of Merchants Row.¡± He continued his instructions, saying them slowly so Ferei caught every word. ¡°It''s always busy there with everyone doing their last-minute shopping. It¡¯ll be open enough for us to keep an eye on you so he doesn¡¯t do anything stupid and crowded enough so you two don¡¯t draw any attention by meeting up."


    Ferei had a deer-in-the-headlights look as she gave an uncertain nod. ¡°O-Okay, boss¡­¡± She replied, trying to commit every word to memory. ¡°Meet ¡®em at Merchants Row at the fruit stall¡­ Got it¡­¡± She repeated the words but looked at Elijah with a furrowed brow. ¡°But doesn¡¯t Brak already know where we are? Why meet him in such a strange way?¡±


    "These measures aren¡¯t for him," Elijah answered but went quiet for a moment as he thought how he would explain that it was for more dedicated observers if there were any. But after a few seconds, he shook his head, ¡°We¡¯re trying to create plausible deniability and add layers of spacing between where we operate and where he operates. So don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    It seemed that Ferei still didn¡¯t quite understand what he was talking about, but she understood that she didn''t need to. Her role was clear: keep her mouth shut, her head down, and perform. Understanding could come later, if at all. What mattered now was survival.


    Elijah gave Ferei a nod of approval before slowly closing the distance between them. "I know it seems sketchy, but if you do right by me, I''ll do right by you." He said, pulling out a silver coin and placing it in her hand. "I¡¯ll make sure you have a roof over your head and regular meals from the tavern. Not that shit you probably eat in the gutters, but real, hot food. And cold, hard coin.¡±


    His confident posture radiated a subtle but undeniable authority. Elijah stood tall, his shoulders squared, but his movements were fluid and spoke of someone comfortable in their own skin. He didn''t carry himself with the pompous air of nobility or the arrogant sneer of wealthy merchants. Instead, there was a calm, almost predatory grace about him.


    As Ferei looked at him, she felt a strange mix of emotions. There was something undeniably sinister about Elijah, especially with that bizarre pixie that constantly flitted around him. The pixie seemed completely uninterested in her or¡­ well, anything around them in general, but the two were like a creeping shadow that crept towards her very soul. And yet, paradoxically, that very shadow felt oddly comforting. It was as if being in its presence shielded her from the horrors that lurked in broad daylight, horrors she knew all too well.


    However, Elijah''s voice cut through her thoughts and brought her back to the present. "I also know how shit it can be on the streets, especially for a woman," he said, his tone low and understanding. "If you keep working for me, I''ll make sure that whatever you were doing before to scrape by, you won''t have to do anymore."


    Ferei''s breath hitched as their eyes locked. His stare was... mesmerizingly insidious. It was as if a swirl of violet spoke to her.


    A shiver ran down Ferei''s spine as she breathed heavier and heavier by the second. She couldn''t look away from him, and it was frightening. She had heard of this feeling in stories when making deals with Devils, but they always¡­ asked for something in return, which usually had something to do with your soul.


    But as she met Elijah''s gaze, Ferei felt herself drawn in, as if some unseen force was pulling at her essence. The world around her seemed to fade, narrowing to just that hypnotic violet stare. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.


    Desperately, she tried to break eye contact to escape his mesmerizing pull. As she glanced away, her attention fell upon the strange creature that always accompanied Elijah. Usually, the pixie seemed bored and disinterested, flitting about with an air of aloofness. But now, those radiant violet orbs were fixed squarely on Ferei, boring into her with an intensity that made her feel naked and exposed.


    The sudden, undivided attention of this otherworldly being was overwhelming. Ferei felt as if the very air around her had become thick and heavy, pressing in on her from all sides. Her breath came in short and rapid gasps as panic began to set in.


    "Are you paying attention, mortal?" the voice demanded in a simultaneously musical and terrifying tone. It was as if someone had struck a massive gong right next to her, but instead of sending vibrations echoing through every fiber of her body, it was just a soft whisper.


    Shock and fear seemed to completely consume Ferei as she opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out as her mind reeled.


    Just as suddenly as it had begun, however, the moment shattered. Elijah''s voice, now seeming oddly ordinary and mundane in comparison, cut through her panic. "Are you paying attention, Ferei?" he asked in a tone mixed with concern and impatience.


    Ferei blinked rapidly as she snapped back to Elijah''s face. The world rushed back into focus around her as the sounds of the street filtered in once more. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure.


    "Y-yes," she managed to stammer out in a shaky voice. "Yes, boss. I''m listening."


    As she struggled to steady herself, Ferei couldn''t shake the feeling that she had just glimpsed something far beyond her understanding. A piece of the unknowable had snaked out its strange, otherwordly tendrils and stroked across her being.


    Whatever arrangement she made with Elijah suddenly felt much more significant and dangerous than she had initially realized. But there was no turning back now. She was in too deep, and all she could do was hold on and hope she''d survive whatever was coming next.


    "I understand," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "T-Thank you... boss."


    A small smile played at the corners of Elijah''s mouth. "Good.¡± He said, looking between the freelancers and his messenger. ¡°Now, go get to work. I expect good news in a few hours." He said, shooing them with his hand as he walked away towards a group of what she believed were his cohorts.


    Ferei¡¯s eyes never left Elijah as he walked away, gesturing his comrades to follow. But as she disappeared into the crowd, she finally realized the coin gripped tightly in her hand. When she opened it, though, Ferei finally noticed the small cut across her fingers from the pressure and felt her anxiety spike. It was insane how she was so distraught. She hadn¡¯t felt the faintest amount of pain from stabbing a literal blunted coin into her hand.


    Desperate for any distraction from the unsettling experience she''d just had, she turned her attention to the two freelancers who met her gaze.


    Talarion was the first to speak up. "Name''s Tal," he said, shifting his shoulders, causing the mixture of leather armor and plate to shift into a better position. His hand then went to the pommel of his sword and continued, "Don''t know what arrangement you got goin'' on with the big man or what he has you doing, but I''m here to make sure none gets to interrupt ya."


    He tilted his head toward the Stymph in an indicating manner. "And that''s Ryff."


    Ryffka politely bowed his head. "Nice to meet you," he said. "I''m usually a support element with magic, but I know a few close-in spells." He tilted his blade staff to emphasize his role as a mage. "Just stay behind me when things go bad. Tal will take care of anyone trying to get close."


    Ferei nodded, grateful for the normalcy of their introductions. It helped ground her after the bizarre experience she''d just had. "Thank you," she managed, her voice steadier now. "I''m Ferei. I... I appreciate your help with this."


    Slipping the coin into her pocket, Ferei tried to push the unsettling experience from her mind. She settled on Talarion, grasping for something ¨C anything ¨C to distract herself from the weight of the arrangement she''d just entered into.


    "Are you a mana user, too?" she asked, her voice steadier now as she focused on the present.


    Talarion''s lips curled into an ego-inflating smile. He closed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders casually, almost carefreely. "I''m a bit capable, yes," he replied, a hint of pride coloring his tone as he rubbed his nose with his thumb. "Not particularly powerful, but I can handle my own."


    His casual confidence starkly contrasted the intensity of her interaction with Elijah, and Ferei found herself grateful for it. It was a small reminder that not everything in this world was shrouded in mystery and danger.


    "That''s... impressive," Ferei said, genuinely curious now. "I''ve never really understood how mana users do what they do. It must be quite useful in your line of work."


    Ryffka chimed in with a hint of excitement in his voice. "If you think he''s impressive, you should see that blonde Eli and his group are always with at work. Saw her by chance when we..." He paused abruptly as Talarion shot him a warning glare. Ryffka quickly adjusted his words, "...during our travels... and saw her completely... dismantle a whole group of people before a grovemaw interrupted."


    "S-she... she fought a grovemaw¡­!? And survived!?" Ferei nearly shouted as both of her eyes widened in shock.


    Talarion seemed to deflate a bit, his earlier bravado fading into the wind. "Aye... that''s why I said I''m not particularly powerful. That woman is... terrifying." He visibly shuddered, clearly remembering the carnage he had witnessed.


    The realization of just how close Ferei had come to disaster hit her like a physical blow and made her blood run cold. She had almost issued a direct challenge to this Azeline woman without a single mana user in her party. Brak had an orc, sure, but if Azeline could survive a grovemaw... what chance did any of them have?


    She swallowed hard, trying to process this new information. Her earlier bravado in challenging Elijah and this woman when they first met now seemed not just foolish but suicidal. If this was the caliber of people she was now involved with, then selling her soul to a Devil was the only choice she had, if it even existed in the first place.


    Pushing aside the overwhelming thoughts of grovemaws and terrifying mana users, Ferei forced herself just to shake it off and roll with the punches. Slowly, she unclenched her hand, which she didn¡¯t initially realize was clenched, and let out a long, calming breath.


    Ferei then looked back up at Ryffka and Talarion and saw the concern and curiosity on their faces. "Alright... okay," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She gestured for them to follow, trying to project a confidence she didn''t quite feel. "Shall we go then?"


    The two freelancers looked at each other, gave a nonchalant shrug, and followed after her.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 95

    A self-satisfied smirk was spread across Elijah¡¯s face as he wove through the bustling streets of Glennsworth with the rest of his team not too far behind.


    Elijah carried himself confidently yet relaxedly while his eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of anyone paying a little too much attention to him. His life on the streets taught him that a pair of discerning eyes boring into the back of your skull was just as dangerous as a bullet boring into the back of your skull.


    But townsfolk that glanced their way never actually looked directly at Elijah in the first place. Instead, they focused on a particular ¡®pixie¡¯ nestled in the crook of his neck, perched comfortably on his shoulder. Each pair of eyes that managed to find Yana looked at her with subdued curiosity before immediately losing interest or mild disdain and recoiling as if she had already said something offensive.


    Of course, Elijah couldn¡¯t help but understand that feeling. It was only a matter of time before this little demon would say or do something out of pocket and cause everyone a headache.


    Utterly oblivious to the scornful gazes, Yana let out another deep yawn as her arms and legs stretched out in a lethargic manner before nestling deeper into his shoulder. The fairy seemed ready to drift off into another nap as her tiny form managed to stay in its impossible position in one way or another.


    "You''ve been awful tired and well... quiet lately," Elijah suddenly spoke up, breaking the relative silence between them.


    Yana''s eyes slowly opened as an annoyed "Hah?" escaped her lips. "Of course I am, you idiot," she growled softly. "I''m nurturing our minion to be the best minion a minion could possibly be!"


    Elijah sighed deeply as he fought the urge to swat her off his shoulder. Instead, he decided to be just as insufferable back to her. "I''m just not used to someone so insufferably annoying being so quiet," he said with a smug smirk.


    The fairy snapped her eyes open this time as she fixed Elijah with an indignant look. "Rude! You''re a horrible apostle!" she shot back with a harrumph.


    Close enough to overhear the exchange, Bennett decided to chime in with a look that said he thought whatever Elijah said was pure projection. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," he muttered.


    "Ben¡­¡± Elijah''s eyes floated towards Bennett and fixed him with a glare. ¡°Shut the fuck up.


    Bennett let out a chuckle and opened his mouth to shoot back but decided just to let sleeping dogs lie. Meanwhile, Yana stood up, balancing perfectly on Elijah''s shoulder as he twisted to squeeze between a particularly dense crowd and gave Elijah a piece of her mind.


    "I don''t know what that stupid, annoying mortal means by pots and kettles," Yana scolded, poking Elijah accusatorily in the cheek, "but I agree! In all the eons of my eternalness, you''re the biggest nuisance I''ve had the displeasure of being bound to!"


    Elijah just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he muttered, glancing behind to ensure Coleman and Kwon were still keeping up. "You''re the one who picked me, not the other way around."


    Yana folded her arms and huffed indignantly. "Hmph! How ungrateful! I bestow upon you the gift of eternity, a boon any mortal would scrape and claw for, and you have the gall to be so petulant!?"


    A scoff left Elijah¡¯s mouth as the streets started to clear out. "Oh yeah? And what exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?¡± He retorted, glancing at his shoulder at the tiny fairy, narrowing her eyes at him with her hands on her hips. ¡°The constant headaches? The weird looks from everyone? Or maybe it''s the joy of carting around a mouthy little fairy everywhere I go?"


    "Hah!? Are you serious!?" The little goddess shouted, sending her voice up an octave. "How utterly and absolutely ridiculous!¡± She stomped her foot on his shoulder. ¡°How can my apostle give any value to the opinions of such lowly creatures!?" Yana threw her hands up dramatically, emphasizing her point. "They''re mortals! Who cares how they look at you!!"


    Elijah''s eyes drifted to the stables in the distance, where the villagers from Twineward held their convoy. "I''m a mortal too, you know," he said, his tone measured. "So, of course, I''ll care a little bit."


    "No, you''re not, stupid!" Yana interjected forcefully. "You''re my-"


    "Apostle," Elijah cut her off, rolling his eyes again. "Yeah, I know."


    "Ya see! You''re not a mortal, you idiot!" Yana declared triumphantly.


    Heaving a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, Elijah chose to focus on the point he was trying to make. "Look, you shouldn''t devalue ''mortals.'' Everyone has a use, Yana."


    The fairy scoffed, clearly finding the notion ridiculous. "Huh? What? Like that absolutely useless one you tried to bind earlier? What is her use? Are you going to use her to breed me more apostles?" Yana''s voice dripped with disdain. "If not, then I can''t possibly see a reason for her existence! What a waste of my time and energy."


    "That''s not the point, Yana¡­¡± Elijah groaned as he suddenly stopped and tilted his head to the sky in exasperation. ¡°Ferei is gonna be crucial in establishing our foothold here."


    "Bah, you and your petty schemes!" Yana waved her hand dismissively. "You should be focusing on more important things, like gathering more worshipers and minions!"


    Elijah rubbed his face before pulling his hand down, trying to ward off the mounting frustration. Finally, he decided just to capitulate. "Yes, fine, fine," he said with a weary voice. "I''ll get right on it, your worship. More devotees and minions, got it, your worship."


    Yana tilted her head up in satisfaction, a smug smile playing on her tiny lips. "Good," she declared. "I expect good, powerful worshipers, not like that pathetic stray you just picked up." She pointed her finger at him accusatorily. "We can''t get a crumb of power from someone so weak and insignificant."


    Elijah once again acknowledged her half-heartedly, hoping she''d finally shut up. "Right, of course. Only the best for you, oh mighty one."


    Yana harrumphed once more, seemingly satisfied with his acquiescence. Without another word, she jumped off his shoulder and disappeared into his pocket, presumably for another nap.


    Finally, a silence settled between the group that allowed Elijah to suck in a deep breath and let out a long, exhausted sigh. He glanced towards the crowd of townsfolk shoving themselves into Merchants Row to see Coleman and the rest of the team suddenly pop out. They didn¡¯t even acknowledge Elijah or Bennett as they moved to the other side of the street and made their way toward the stables.


    "I don''t know how you two deal with each other," Bennett¡¯s voice rang out, causing Elijah to turn his head to see that he was being stared at with a blank look that said he was already over all of this.


    Bennett then shook his head as he started walking off towards the stable himself, but before he left earshot, he finished with, "I''d have killed myself a long time ago if I were either of you."


    A moment of disconnect befell Elijah as he watched Bennett¡¯s back as he walked away. The medic just stood there, watching his team greet the villagers of Twineward as he brought his hand to his eyes and pushed them in. Here he was, in the middle of some deranged fantasy world, with a deranged goddess napping his pocket, all the while becoming deranged himself.


    Absolute madness¡­


    ¡°Jesus, save me..." Elijah murmured as he tried to suppress the headache building behind his eyes. But even that moment of quiet exasperation was interrupted by more insanity.


    ¡°HEY!!!¡± A sharp kick from his pocket accompanied a small, angry voice. "Hey, you''re not allowed to worship anyone else!!"


    Elijah felt the repeated kicking in his pocket as Yana apparently took offense at his casual invocation. He let out a sad, derisive laugh, tilting his head back to look at the sky with a defeated expression.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Yana, save me¡­" he corrected himself with a voice voice full of sarcasm and genuine weariness.


    The kicking abruptly stopped. After a moment of silence, Yana''s voice drifted up from his pocket, sounding distinctly satisfied with the change. "That''s better," she declared, settling down.


    Closing his eyes, Elijah took a deep breath to process the absurdity of his situation that threatened to overwhelm him. "Right," he muttered, more to himself than to Yana. "How could I forget?" He finished before moving towards the stables, where the rest of his team was gathered.


    When Elijah finally approached, he was struck by the unique blend of familiar yet alien elements. The structure itself was massive and far larger than any stable he''d seen back home. Its walls were a mix of sturdy stone and intricately carved wood, with strange symbols etched into the beams that seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight.


    The roof was made of wood beams with what looked like standard logs at first glance, but upon closer inspection, Elijah noticed it had a living quality, shifting positions as the light hit it from different angles. Large, ornate doors stood open, revealing rows of stalls inside, each easily thrice the size of a standard horse stall.


    But it wasn''t just the structure that caught Elijah''s attention. The animals housed within were a menagerie of the bizarre and fantastical. Alongside more familiar horses and oxen, some creatures defied description ¨C six-legged beasts with scaled hides, bipedal bird-like raptors that craned their heads and cooed, and even what appeared to be some sort of buffalo-rhino with a horn as big as its head.


    In the midst of this otherworldly scene, Coleman stood conversing with Donnu, the new village leader, while the villagers from Twineward huddled around them. As Elijah drew closer, he could hear snippets of their discussion.


    "...and the merchant we usually deal with should be arrivin¡¯ h¡¯re soon to buy our furs n¡¯ grain," Donnu said, rubbing his weathered face as it creased with hope and worry. ¡°He hadn¡¯t been buying nothin¡¯ at market price, and it¡¯s just been goin¡¯ lower every month.¡±


    Coleman¡¯s posture was relaxed but attentive as he nodded. "That''s good to hear," he replied, his tone friendly and encouraging. "Tell me more about this merchant. How long have you been doing business with them?"


    Elijah looked between Coleman and Donnu as they spoke and decided to keep his mouth shut. He decided to sit this one out and allow Coleman to handle it. The team leader seemed in his element now that the spicier tasks were out of the way, and these kinds of dealings with locals were more in his comfort zone. They were consistent with what was taught at Robin Sage and the various unconventional warfare classes.


    And if Elijah was honest with himself, he couldn''t be asked to butt in. He just couldn¡¯t give a flying shit about involving himself in something he didn¡¯t need to be involved in. If someone else was competent and interested enough in handling it, Elijah was more than happy to allow them to take the reins.


    But as his attention waned, so did his gaze as he looked around with a bored expression. It wasn¡¯t long before he slinked away, wandering around the stables like some kind of tourist, oohing and ahhing at everything he gawked at.


    A lot of what he saw was the same old equipment and setup you''d find in any random barn in the countryside. But interspersed with the mundane were truly strange sights that caught his eye¡ªjust like one of those velociraptor-like birds tilting and turning its head in rapid, jerky motions.


    With his interest piqued, Elijah squinted his eyes to see the creature''s features better. Bright white feathers covered most of the creature''s body, interspersed with an earthy brown plumage that seemed to absorb the stable''s dim light. The beast was striking but still maintained a somewhat camouflaged appearance.


    What truly caught Elijah''s attention was its face. He couldn''t quite tell if it had a beak or a snout, and it seemed to be some bizarre amalgamation of both. The front of its face protruded slightly, lined with small, sharp teeth, yet it tapered to a point that resembled a beak.


    The ambiguity of the beast made it all the more alien and fascinating.


    Furthermore, its arms were like those of velociraptors. They ended in four-fingered, clawed hands complete with opposable thumbs, which they used to grab some kind of bone before hopping on their hind legs to stare back at their observer.


    Elijah took a few steps forward to get a better look, but the strange animal let out a soft, trilling sound that was somewhere between a chirp and a growl.


    ¡°Careful, now.¡± A familiar voice resounded from behind.


    Looking over his shoulder, Elijah found that Jayle, Eileen''s friend, was approaching with an armful of hay. She hobbled over towards the oxen on the other side of the stall and dropped them in front of the large animals.


    With her arms free, Jayla then turned towards Elijah as she dusted off her arms. "If a strider don''t know ya and ya startle it," she fixed Elijah with a smile before folding her arms, "it could take a hand cleeeaaan off."


    The so-called stride eyed Elijah warily, tilting its head and turning its head while clutching the bone tightly in its clawed hands.


    "It could also just smash yer head in with that bone.¡± Jayla continued with a hint of amusement in her voice as she watched Elijah start to back away. ¡°They tend to do that, ya know ¨C swing around or even thrown¡¯ anythin'' they find on the ground."


    A strange look clouded Elijah¡¯s features as he started to back away. He planing on getting close enough for the damn thing to bite or cave his brain in, but he didn¡¯t figure the monster would throw anything.


    "¡±Uhhh¡­ Thanks for the warning," he muttered while backing away, but the creature''s intelligent gaze followed Elijah¡¯s every move.


    As the strider continued to size up Elijah, Jayla let out a cute giggle before walking over to one of the crates nearby and started rifling through it. Just before the beast decided he''d make a good target for its improvised weapon, Jayla pulled out another large bone with blood and meat still on it.


    Already somewhat familiar with Jayla, the strider trotted over cautiously as it made sure to keep Elijah in its peripheral. When it got close to the meaty treat, it dropped its old bone and snatched the new one from Jayla''s hand. With its prize secured, the strider quickly retreated back to its original spot, chirping and cooing as it chomped and gnawed at the bone with gusto.


    Its powerful jaws made quick work of the remaining meat, stripping sections of it clean in a matter of moments. Then, with surprising dexterity, it used its clawed hands to dig into crevices with chunks of meat and pinched it out.


    Elijah watched this display with a mix of fascination and unease. "So, uh... I''m guessing you folks use these¡­ things?" he asked, trying to sound casual despite his lingering wariness.


    Jayla wiped her hands on her dress and nodded, a mirth-filled smile playing on her lips. "Oh, they''re right useful," she said, moving to latch down the crate so the striders couldn''t open it. "Once ya know how to handle ''em, and they bond to ya, that is."


    She continued, her voice filled with pride, "Most hunters love ''em, make for good long-distance huntin'' ''cause they''re fast as the wind an'' smart as a whip." Jayla paused, then added, "Afton can tell ya more. He got his own."


    Intrigued despite himself, Elijah raised an eyebrow as he glanced back at this so-called strider. "And Afton has one of these? As a pet?"


    Jayla chuckled. "More like a partner, really. Those two are thick as thieves. You should see ''em out on a hunt when he has that fancy bow o¡¯his ¨C it''s somethin'' else."


    When the village girl mentioned Afton''s name, Elijah suddenly felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was as if a warm, gentle wave of affection and desire had brushed against his consciousness. It was feather-light, but it was still unmistakable. The feeling was alien and distinctly separate from his own emotions, but it was still there, leaving him bewildered.


    Elijah made a difficult face as he tried to process this strange and alien experience. He wasn''t attracted to Afton in the slightest, so where was this coming from? It was as if these emotions were lightly caressing the edges of his mind rather than manifesting within him.


    "Oh, uh... that''s... interesting," Elijah managed, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.


    Oblivious to Elijah''s inner turmoil, Jayla continued to speak excitedly as she shifted the conversation to be about him. "Though I reckon it probably ain¡¯t nowhere near as impressive as that wyvern you took down! Now that must''ve been somethin'' to see!"


    Another wave of foreign emotions washed over Elijah as he stepped back. This time, the feeling of affection and lust was more potent than before, and the intensity of it caught Elijah off guard. His mind was left in a chaotic mess as he struggled to focus on the conversation and was left stumbling on his thoughts.


    "Yeah, the wyvern¡­ Right." Elijah responded as he fought to recollect himself. "It was... quite a fight."


    For once, the typically quick-witted Elijah found himself at a loss for words, grappling with an experience he couldn''t quite understand or control. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head of these new intrusive thoughts that kept whispering of different feelings he didn¡¯t actually feel.


    "Are you alright?" Jayla asked, noticing his distraction. "You look a bit peaky."


    The moment when Jayla called out to him directly, Elijah¡¯s mind suddenly calibrated, and those alien emotions vanished. It was as if they retreated into the recesses of his mind, giving him back control of how he actually felt.


    Straightening himself up, Elijah ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Yeah, I''m good," he replied, forcing a smile. "Just a bit tired, you know? Haven''t been getting a lot of sleep lately."


    Jayla''s face softened with sympathy just as a slight blush colored her cheeks. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, stepping closer. "Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe I could make you some of my special tea. It always helps me sleep." Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of concern and something more, something that made Elijah''s newfound senses faintly tingle at the edges of his consciousness.


    But before Elijah could respond, Bennett''s voice boomed from the stable entrance, speaking in a language only he could understand. "Eli, you better not be fuckin'' someone¨C" He paused, taking in the scene before him.


    His expression went blank for a moment before he turned on his heel. "COLE!" Bennett bellowed as he walked back out. "HE''S TRYING TO FUCK SOME VILLAGE GIRL AGAIN!"


    Elijah slapped his face and dragged his hand down before letting out an exasperated groan. "God dammit..."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 96

    Following Bennett out of the stables, Elijah felt the cool breeze welcome him and whisk away the smell of strange animals. He half-expected to see Coleman marching towards him with that all-too-familiar look of disapproval, but it seemed like the team leader was already indisposed.


    Elijah couldn¡¯t help but smirk at his luck as he watched Coleman and the new village head, Donnu, engage with a few unfamiliar faces. Meanwhile, men and women bustled around them carrying grain, furs, and other goods and loading them into empty horse-drawn carts. These weren''t the rickety wagons that the villagers of Twinesward had been using; these were heavier, sturdier, and clearly built for hauling substantial loads.


    As Elijah and Bennett neared the mass of people, they finally got a better look at one of the newcomers ¨C a portly fellow with a sheen of sweat on his brow. The man was dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief before nervously bringing his hands close to his chest.


    "M-My apologies," the rotund man spoke in a quivering voice. "I understand you''re used to speaking with Master Simol, b-but unfortunately, he is indisposed."


    Almost immediately, Elijah''s interest was piqued by the man''s cadence and nerves. Without being consciously aware of it, Elijah could feel the man''s frazzled nerves brush against the recesses of his mind. It felt like a combination of anxiety and fear, reminiscent of a herbivore realizing a wolf was staring it down.


    And as he observed, Elijah spotted the source of that anxiety. The portly man kept flicking his eyes towards Coleman, who was glaring dead at him. The intensity of Coleman''s stare was the catalyst for the waves of unease that Elijah was sensing.


    But this was all compounded when Donnu responded, "Ya, but the master''s always been givin'' us a whole gold fer everythin''. I hear silver, and I ain''t feelin'' like I be gettin'' what''s fair." He said with a troubled look.


    The portly man spoke up immediately, not letting Donnu continue. His words came out in a rush, "O-oh, but it''s the same v-value, Mr. Donnu! W-we''re just paying in silver!"


    Coleman suddenly interjected, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Hold on, how much silver are we talking about?"


    Startled by Coleman''s sudden question, the fat merchant yelped and jumped. "O-oh! It''s enough!" he said nervously, avoiding looking directly at Coleman.


    Elijah could feel the man''s anxiety spike, the sensation washing over him in waves. It was almost overwhelming, and he had to concentrate to keep his own composure.


    ¡°How much is enough...?" Coleman asked in a dangerous tone as his eyes bore a hole into the side of the merchant''s head.


    Caught by the weight of Coleman''s challenge, the merchant began to squirm both physically and verbally. His words came out in a nervous rush, peppered with stammers and half-formed excuses. "W-well, you see, good sir," he began, wringing his hands, "the market''s been quite volatile lately. Exchange rates, you understand. Very complicated business, really. And with the recent... ah... disturbances in trade routes, we''ve had to make certain adjustments."


    Not a single word left Coleman''s mouth as he just narrowed his eyes at the man. He was clearly not buying a single word, but the merchant pressed on with his voice taking a wheedling tone.


    "I assure you, we''re offering a very fair rate! More than fair, considering the circumstances the Imperials are putting us in! ¡° The merchant spoke in rapid order, looking back to Donnu, hoping to overrule this newcomer. ¡°Master Simol would agree if he were here! It''s all about maintaining good relations, you see. We value our partnerships, especially in these trying times."


    The merchant''s eyes remained fixated on Donnu, searching for any sign of acceptance. But it appeared the new village head simply just turned to Coleman for guidance. "W-Where is Mr. Sofan? I¡¯m sure he will be more agreeable!¡± The slimy merchant said, wiping his brow again. ¡°We have an understanding, and he knows our rates¨C"


    Crossing his arms, Coleman decided to turn the screws on the man a little bit as he spoke in a cold and matter-of-fact tone. "Sofan? He''s dead." He nodded toward Donnu. "This is the new village head."


    The merchant seemed to freeze at that, his mouth flapping like a fish out of water. "D-d-d-d-dead? What do you mean d-dead? What happened?"


    Coleman, however, wasn''t about to let this swindler off the hook so easily. He pressed on, refusing to allow the subject to change. "That doesn''t matter. I want you to tell me how much silver you''re actually giving him."


    Taking another step closer, Coleman caused the merchant to squeak again. The portly man''s eyes darted around frantically, looking for an escape. Suddenly, his gaze landed on the second person everyone seemed to have ignored until now.


    Standing with a rather exasperated look on her face was a petite woman with deep red hair tied into braided pigtails. She stood by the cart, watching the drama unfold with an unamused expression.


    "A-Auri! A-Auri why are you just s-standing there! Help me!" the merchant pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.


    Elijah, who had been silently observing the exchange, felt a shift in the emotional landscape. The merchant''s panic was still palpable, but now, a new presence was in the mix. He turned his attention to the woman, Auri, curious about what role she played in all this.


    Auri sighed deeply, her expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. Contrasting the merchant''s frantic energy, the redhead gracefully and confidently stepped forward while dusting herself off.


    "I apologize for the confusion, Master¡­¡± Auri paused for a split second as a wave of disgust coursed through her after saying the word master. ¡°... Master Thuble isn¡¯t quite used to these kinds of deals," she said in a calm and measured tone. "Perhaps I can provide some clarity to the situation."


    Shaking her head, Auri stepped forward as Master Thuble slinked away, sighing in relief and wiping away the sweat on his face. The petite woman strode over to Coleman and Donnu at a measured pace and looked up at the men with an air that spoke that she wasn¡¯t to be underestimated.


    "We''re willing to pay you 76 silver and 98 copper for everything," she stated matter-of-factly.


    A few moments of silence passed as Auri didn¡¯t even acknowledge Donnu¡¯s existence and continued to stare directly at Coleman. It was clear that she had thought this freelancer-looking human was the one who was actually in charge and not the chunky blacksmith.


    Coleman finally broke the silence as the standoff continued by glancing at the newly minted village head. "Is that a reasonable price?"


    Concern clouded Donnu¡¯s features as he did his own arbitrary calculations by comparing it to how much metal he could buy with one gold compared to a silver. But that soon ended when he realized he couldn¡¯t precisely formulate an honest answer because he still didn¡¯t know how much silver went into a singular gold coin.


    "I gotta admit¡­ I ain''t much of a counter, nor was anyone other than Sofan, really," he said while scratching his cheek. "We usually be trading it for a gold and a small pouch full o'' silver, but since the empire been runnin'' all over the place, we be havin'' to settle for one gold."


    With her arms on her hips and an expression that clearly said she had better things to do than deal with peasants, she shook her head and sighed. "One and a half gold, to be exact." The petite redhead answered for them, shooting Donnu a judging look.


    "And how much silver is in a gold?" Coleman asked as his eyes narrowed slightly.


    A flicker of annoyance crossed Auri¡¯s face as she let out a derisive sigh. "100 silver makes a gold," she replied tersely. She couldn¡¯t quite understand why some bumbling idiot would bother trying to negotiate numbers with an idiot and waste her precious time.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Coleman eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "So, you''re already taking off a third of what you usually pay them by only giving them 1 gold," he began with a scoff. "And now you want to take another fourth on top of that?"


    A look of surprise momentarily spread across Auri''s face, causing her eyes to widen slightly. She had yet to run into a human freelancer, especially in these parts, who was familiar with numbers, let alone arithmetic. A few were capable, but they were always bumbling around, adding and subtracting on their fingers. This one, however, had just sped through it all in an instant in his own head. It was as if he was formally educated.


    Ignoring Auri''s look, Coleman instead turned his ire towards the supposed ''Master'' Thuble. "You think you can come out here and cheat these people? Take advantage of them just because they''re not as good with numbers?" His voice grew into a growl as he addressed the merchant.


    Master Thuble began to stammer as his earlier panic returned in full force. "N-no, that''s not... we wouldn''t... it''s just the market conditions..."


    But Coleman was having none of it. He started to march aggressively towards the merchant, balling his fist as if he were going to hit him. "Market conditions? Is that what you call gouging honest people trying to make a living?"


    As the team leader confronted the merchant, Elijah was suddenly hit by an overwhelming wave of intense fear rolling off the fat man. For some reason, the sensation was so powerful this time that it was almost tangible. Elijah couldn''t make out any words but could feel the merchant''s desperation. It was nearly as if he was reaching out for the woman¡¯s help, even as he physically yelped and curled into a ball, facing away from Coleman.


    The sensations were so profoundly strange to Elijah that he couldn¡¯t help but stare and gawk at the man. However, all the sensations he was starting to feel started to evaporate, and in its place was a feeling of extreme nausea and fatigue. Trying not to double over and yack on his shoes, Elijah grit his teeth and furrowed his brows as he fought that sensation.


    At the same time, Elijah¡¯s muscles grew heavy, and his vision began to blur. It felt like he had to nearly fight tooth and nail to keep some semblance of composure and not just drop to the ground and vomit all over himself.


    But after a few minutes, the nausea went as fast as it came. The fatigue still lingered, but Elijah found a modicum of equilibrium as he felt these new sensations fade away in their entirety. But before they completely vanished, he felt a sharp spike of... respect? Admiration? The feeling wasn''t his own and seemed to be directed towards Coleman.


    Elijah''s eyes floated over to the source of this new emotional current, realizing it was coming from the redhead before it completely disappeared. As he focused on her, he noticed something he had completely ignored as he tried to figure out what in the hell was wrong with him ¨C her long and droopy ears. They were just like that one girl Yana had ''claimed'' as a servant, Yzael.


    After finally collecting himself, Elijah elbowed Bennett, "Hey uh... who''s the girl with the big ass ears again?" He whispered, trying to maintain his cool, calm, and composed demeanor.


    Bennett looked at him as if he was insane. "What? What do you mean by big ears? The hell are you on about?" He glanced around, seeing only humans and a few elves. "Which one? There''s like five around us," he said, furrowing his brow.


    Elijah stared at Bennett as if he was profoundly stupid. "No, not the fuckin'' regular elves. I mean the one with the super long droopy ears, you shithead." He nodded his head towards Auri.


    It was Bennett''s turn to stare at Elijah as if he was profoundly stupid. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he responded quietly as he looked between Elijah and the petite woman. "She has regular-ass human ears. Are you high?"


    An insane sense of dumbfoundedness was evident on Elijah¡¯s face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The insanity of the day was most likely getting to him, and he was in no shape or form to deal with any more bullshit today. "Just¡­ Just the redhead," he said, flustered and annoyed. "Just tell me who the fucking redhead is, Ok? Christ on a stick¡­ ."


    Bennett, still looking at Elijah with concern, finally relented. "That''s Auri, I think. She''s apparently a merchant apprentice of fatty over there.¡± Bennett gestured towards the large, rotund merchant being verbally assaulted by Coleman. ¡°They¡¯re a part of a merchant guild or something.¡±


    ¡°But seriously, man, are you okay?¡± Bennett gave Elijah the side eye as he looked him up and down. "You''re acting weird as hell," he said in a judging tone.


    Elijah waved off Bennett''s worry. "I''m good," he insisted. "Probably just ate something funky or whatever."


    A snort left Bennett¡¯s mouth as he shook his head. ¡°Told you not to eat that weird pepper thing.¡±


    Offense colored Elijah¡¯s face as his head recoiled, and gave Bennett a look that said he was having none of this. ¡°Bitch,¡± He retorted with a furrowed brow and looked Bennett up and down as if he was sizing him up. ¡°Your ho ass ate it too. I don¡¯t wanna hear that shit from you.¡±


    ¡°Ya, but I don¡¯t look like I¡¯m about to shit my pants.¡± Bennett wore a haughty look.


    Clicking his tongue, Elijah shook his head and walked away from the infuriating man. He walked toward Coleman as he grilled the merchant, ending up near Auri and Kwon. By now, the effects of whatever he had been feeling had entirely dissipated, and all three of them watched as Coleman interrogated his victim for information about the inflated prices.


    Coleman''s questioning began to segue into broader market conditions. "Why is this happening? What''s making the market so horrible that you feel you have to stoop this low?" he demanded in a threatening voice after cornering his victim.


    As the merchant stammered through explanations about supply chain disruptions and Imperial trade restrictions, Elijah, Auri, and Kwon stared blankly at the scene unfolding with the monotony of economic discourse.


    Now that Elijah no longer felt like he needed to hurl all over himself, a mischievous glint flashed in his eye as he glanced over at Auri. "Shouldn''t you go help your master or something?" he asked, shifting his gaze towards the sweating merchant.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Auri¡¯s voice oozed with offense as she gave Elijah an annoyed side-eye as fiery as her hair. ¡°Master?" she repeated with a snarl playing at her lips.


    But then, her eyebrows shot up as the realization washed over her. "Oh, right. My... ¡®master,¡¯" she replied as if she had just remembered that was her role. ¡°Yes¡­ right¡­He is indeed my master.¡±


    Catching the slip, Elijah huffed in amusement as he eyed her up and down. His interest was piqued. Clearly, Auri was using the merchant as cover, and the reality seemed to be that she was the one in charge, not him.


    "Well," Elijah said, keeping his tone casual, "aren''t you going to step in? Your ''master'' seems to be floundering."


    Auri huffed in annoyance at her fumble as her eyes narrowed slightly, reassessing the man beside her. "He needs to learn how to handle these situations," she said coolly. "I can''t always be there to bail him out."


    Elijah''s lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Business must be hard without having reliable and competent subordinates, huh?" he said, his tone light but probing. "I mean, if you have to babysit your ''master constantly'', it must really cut into your productivity."


    Irritation flared with Auri as her unsavory look turned into an outright glare. She remained silent for a minute, debating what to tell him, but she realized there wasn''t much she could say to throw them off.


    "And you are?" she asked, turning to face Elijah fully. Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity and wariness. "I''ve never seen any freelancers like you in these areas before. Most of the freelancers I''ve encountered can''t string more than four sentences together, and here you are, spewing mana everywhere and doing arithmetic in your head." She paused, her gaze intense. "Who are you people?"


    For a moment, Elijah froze at the observation about mana. Was Yana doing something strange again? His hand lightly brushed against the pocket where the little fairy was nestled, but he felt that she hadn¡¯t moved an inch. And that was soon confirmed by the feeling her kick around in agitation before settling down.


    Moving his hand away from the furious goddess, Elijah elected to turn his focus back onto Auri and fixed her with his usual suave smile. "We''re a group of out-of-town specialists," he answered smoothly. "Called in to handle a few delicate situations that are choking up the city''s trade."


    A hum left the petite redheaded woman¡¯s mouth as she narrowed her eyes. But her scrutiny only lasted as she seemed to buy the explanation and wave her hand dismissively. "Figures," she said with a hint of disdain. "That makes sense. No one in this town has the intelligence or ability to add two numbers together, let alone deal with fractions."


    Elijah chuckled, sensing an opportunity to gather more information. "Sounds like you''ve had your share of frustrations dealing with the locals. I''m guessing that''s why you need your... ''master'' as a front?"


    Auri''s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a glimmer of respect in her gaze. "You''re perceptive," she admitted. "Let''s just say that it''s often advantageous to be underestimated in this line of work. Especially when it comes to Imperials.¡±


    Another round of silence dominated the air besides Coleman''s interrogation as Auri fixed Elijah with an intense stare. It was as if her mind was racing, processing all the information she had gathered before opening her mouth. She had to decide whether to just throw it all out there or choose her words carefully.


    But Auri never found herself a smooth talker, so she decided to shoot it straight. "And the Imperials is the ''problem'' you and your people are here to solve. Isn''t that right?" she said, her tone laced with knowing confidence.


    It was Elijah''s turn to be taken off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, but Auri continued before he could formulate a reply.


    "I think our interests align," she interrupted in a low and deliberate tone. "Maybe we can find some common ground and help each other."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 97

    A sigh left Auri¡¯s mouth, and she plopped down into a plush, ornate chair in a dimly lit office once certified by the Merchant¡¯s Guild. Her fiery red hair, braided into twin plaits, framed a face set in a mask of cool indifference as she stared at two of those ¡®out-of-town¡¯ freelancers.


    With one leg crossed over the other, Auri¡¯s foot bounced rhythmically as she regarded Coleman and Elijah with an appraising gaze. Her green dress, cinched at the waist with a sturdy leather belt, rode up slightly, revealing her thigh and the tops of her well-worn, buckled boots.


    The room itself bore the scars of recent violence. Holes pockmarked the walls, furniture lay in splintered ruins, and blood-stained curtains fluttered in the breeze from a shattered window. It was clear that someone had attempted to clean up, but there was only so much one could do. It was pretty evident that a rather fierce struggle had taken place.


    ¡°I apologize for the¡­ unseemly display.¡± Auri finally spoke as her eye fluttered between the two. ¡°But hopefully, this will suffice for our negotiations.¡±


    For a few moments, silence reigned as the two men peered around at their surroundings with questioning looks on their faces. But it was Coleman who spoke up first as he fixed Auri with a challenging gaze. "So you¡¯re the one who¡¯s running the show," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Can''t say I''m surprised."


    A huff left Auri¡¯s motu as she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh please, I¡¯m just a consultant." she countered. "Simol¡¯s the one who actually runs the things here.¡±


    Neither Elijah nor Coleman believed her and gave each other an amused look. But Elijah¡¯s interest was piqued at the mention of Simol¡¯s name. He remembered Azeline telling him about a merchant named Simol and his role in setting up a smuggling operation. Moreover, he also recalled the bandits just outside of town that were supposed to be under his employment, saying he was ¡®indisposed¡¯ or something.


    "Simol?" Elijah prompted in a careful and neutral tone. "And where is he now?"


    Auri clicked her tongue, throwing a singular pigtail over her shoulder. "A little dispute concerning a few of the less... legitimate business associates occurred," she grumbled in frustration before gesturing around the room at the destruction. "And as you can see, it didn''t quite go well."


    Coleman furrowed his brow as he eyed the blood stains and the destroyed desk. "Is he dead?" he asked bluntly.


    Another sigh left Auri¡¯s mouth as her fingers tapped the chair''s arm rhythmically. "Not quite..." She said ominously. ¡°He¡¯s been arrested on¡­ suspicious that the town guard or Imperials, by all means, shouldn¡¯t even have in the first place.¡±


    For a few moments, Elijah couldn¡¯t help but stare at Auri as he tried to stop the smirk forming on his face. This was the most pathetic attempt at doublespeak he had ever seen. "Wait, wait, wait," Elijah waved his hands, trying to suppress a chuckle, and moved a bit closer to confront Auri. "You just said he had a scuffle with some thugs, and now you''re saying he''s been arrested? This isn''t lining up."


    The tension in the room turned up a notch as Auri quietened and narrowed her eyes at the offender. "You''re right¡­" she admitted in a low voice. ¡°It''s not lining up because I''m not telling you everything.¡± She adjusted herself by swapping the positions of her crossed legs. ¡°The situation is... complicated."


    She paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully before continuing. "The ''thugs'' I mentioned? They have connections with the Imperials.¡± She almost growled as her leg began to bounce restlessly. ¡°This wasn''t just a simple business dispute. It was a targeted attack, and Simol''s arrest was their end goal."


    A hum left Coleman¡¯s mouth as he realized their speculation was correct. This town''s webs were indeed intricately woven to the point that the lines were blurred between the criminal elements and the law enforcement. It was the classic situation of corruption and collusion, where those sworn to protect had long since compromised their oaths for power, profit, or protection.


    It looked like things would get messy and require an extremely delicate touch, but there was an undeniable potential here.


    Elijah folded his arms as he thought about what he would say next. He knew the name he was about to drop would either make their conversation easier or a lot harder. "Einar?" he said, the single word loaded with implication.


    The name caused Auri to freeze in place as a flicker of anger flashed across her face. The rhythmic beating of her fingers stopped as she gripped the chair arm tightly. "Out-of-town specialists indeed..." she growled, fixing the two with a piercing glare.


    Everyone in the room knew that Auri wasn¡¯t very familiar with hiding frustration as her face contorted in her attempt to calm herself. Her eyes closed, and her grip on the chair¡¯s arm tightened, causing her fingernails to dig into the wood. But when she opened her eyes again, her composure had returned, and then her grip loosened, though a hint of tension remained in her posture.


    "Have you been hired by the Golden Courier to sort this out?" she asked in a calm and controlled tone.


    "Oh, No.¡± Elijah shook his head while chuckling. ¡°I¡¯m not here to bail you out of whatever the hell you got yourself into.¡± He said in an inflammatory way as he shook his head. ¡°You want our help, then you gotta make it worth our while. We¡¯re not a charity.¡±


    Coleman watched the exchange silently as the tension became so palpable he could have sworn he could cut through with a knife. He wanted to intervene and pull back on Elijah¡¯s reins, but he recognized the man was in his element.


    Auri glared hatefully at Elijah as he stood there, looking down at her through his nose. She wanted to fling a scornful ball of fire at his stupid face, but she also knew he wasn¡¯t wrong. A true professional would never stumble into a job and work for free. And if they did, she sure as the infinite hells wouldn¡¯t trust such an amateur with any responsibilities.


    "Well, who do you work for then?" She hissed through gritted teeth.


    Elijah just shrugged, an insufferable smirk playing on his lips. "Well, I can''t tell you that, now can I?"


    The smirk seemed to infuriate Auri even more, as her eyes narrowed dangerously. Even though she made one misstep after another, Auri still looked like she might lose her composure entirely. But then she took another deep breath and visibly restrained herself.


    "Careful now, freelancer¡­" she spoke to him with a hint of disdain. "You¡¯re playing a dangerous game with your tomfoolery,¡± Auri growled as she clenched her fist. ¡°You have no idea who you¡¯re antagonizing¡­"


    A huff of amusement left Elijah¡¯s mouth as he looked Auri up and down before lifting his hand in mock surrender. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not the one bringing a bunch of dudes I don¡¯t know into my busted office looking for help.¡± He shot back. ¡°Let¡¯s stop being disingenuous and get to business, alright? You need services rendered, and we¡¯re not working for cheap."


    After a few moments of grumbling and a poor attempt at being more competent in the negotiation arena than she was, Auri finally cracked. Her face contorted into a mix of frustration and uncertainty as her hand shot up to her face, rubbing her eyes as if trying to physically wipe away the growing headache.


    She was smacked with the dreadful realization of just how out of her depth she truly was. The face of their operation had been carted away, leaving her to navigate the treacherous social aspects of the underground alone ¨C a task she was clearly ill-equipped for.


    As she lowered her hand, Auri''s expression was a blend of resignation and barely contained anger. She took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself before speaking.


    "Fine¡­ What do you want?" she asked, her voice strained and weary. The question hung in the air, a grudging admission of her vulnerability in this situation.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Elijah clapped his hands and started rubbing and biting his lip in excitement as he approached Auri, causing her to shift uncomfortably and sink deeper into her chair. She left as if she was being accosted by some pervert who thought of her to be defenseless.


    "I want every record, every document, every list dealing with the Empire," Elijah¡¯s gleefulness caused Auri''s eye to twitch.


    She crossed her arms, looking up at him as if Elijah wasn¡¯t sound of mind, but he wasn¡¯t done as he placed his hands on the remnants of the table. "I want to know who''s doing business with them,¡± he continued. ¡°Who''s making their bread, fixing their clothes? I want to know who supplies their weapons, armor, and horses. I even want to know the names of innkeepers housing their officers."


    "I need details on their supply lines. Who''s transporting goods? What routes are they using? Are there any smugglers working with or against them?¡± Elijah''s eyes gleamed with intensity as he leaned in closer, fixing Auri with a crazy, conspiratorial gaze. "And most importantly, I want to know who is talking to them. Who are their friends? Their associates? Anyone in this town that even fuckin¡¯ TALKS to them."


    Auri''s expression morphed into one of utter disbelief. Her mouth hung halfway open as she stared up at Elijah as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Her gaze remained locked on his, only blinking to see if this crazy person was still here and not a figment of imagination.


    After what seemed like an eternity, Auri finally found her voice, though it was tinged with disbelief and exasperation. "Are you mad?" she asked in bewildered frustration. "Why can''t you ask for something normal, like money? What is wrong with you?"


    Leaning to the side, Auri rested her head in her hand as a slew of what sounded like curses in some strange language left her mouth. The head forming in the redhead''s skull became unbearable as she massaged her eyebrows with her fingers.


    "By the gods, I..." She stopped mid-sentence and fell silent as she thought about the logistical nightmare of gathering all these documents. After another deep sigh, she looked up at Elijah with weary eyes. "Are you sure you don''t just want coin?"


    An amused chuckle left Elijah''s mouth as he shook his head. "Information is money in my line of business," he replied coolly. "If you don''t have it, then we have no business."


    Groaning in reply, Auri reared upright in her chair with a look of utmost indignation. "You are asking for A LOT," she growled, her voice tight with frustration. I can have this kind of information organized and transferred to you, but this is far outside the scope of what I was initially bargaining for!"


    She paused as her mind raced, trying to find any way to salvage the situation and still come out with something to show for it. "If you want all of this," she continued pointing an accusing finger at Elijah, "then we''re talking about several jobs in return! This isn''t a one-and-done deal anymore!"


    Elijah rubbed his beard thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he fixed Auri with a discerning gaze. "Hmm... I don''t know," he said, his tone uncertain. "I think a little down payment as a show of good faith is in order."


    ¡°How do we know you¡¯re not just going to give us useless info?¡± He continued, pushing himself off the remnants of the table and stepping back in line with Coleman. ¡°For all we know, you could just make some random shit up. How about a little taste to win our confidence?¡±


    Auri''s head jerked back as if she had been physically struck, her face contorting in offense. "Excuse me?" she snarled, her voice dripping with indignation. "Who do you take me for? Some merchant?"


    Her hands gesticulated wildly as she continued her tirade. "How rude you are! How unfathomably rude!" She pointed accusingly at both Elijah and Coleman. "I''m an alchemist! Not some charlatan pushing a cart full of goods!"


    The sudden outburst caught both men off guard. Elijah raised his eyebrows, exchanging a quick glance with Coleman before turning back to Auri.


    Elijah held up his hands in a placating gesture, his tone becoming more conciliatory. "Look, we don''t know who you are or what you do. That''s the whole point," he said, trying to diffuse the tension. "But I believe in tit for tat. How about this - I''ll give you the name of someone we''re associated with, and in return, you give us some info. Just enough to assure us you''re not jerking us around."


    He watched carefully as Auri seemed to calm down a little, though her scornful glare remained fixed on him. The redhead''s fingers drummed on the armrest of her chair as she considered his proposal.


    After a moment of tense silence, Auri spoke, her voice still tight with barely contained frustration. "Fine. Who''s this associate of yours?"


    Exchanged a quick glance with Coleman, who gave a subtle nod, Elijah turned back to Auri and ran through the names he could possibly use. He could lie and name-drop Indie or that dude Kjadnar, but Elijah firmly believed in manipulating the truth. "We have connections with a woman named Azeline. That ring any bells?" He finally spoke after a few moments of deliberation.


    Auri''s eyes widened slightly as a flicker of recognition passed across her face. ¡°Hmph¡­ Figures Indi and that¡­ woman would be involved in some way or another¡­¡± She murmured in a scornful tone before quickly brushing out her dress.


    She then leaned back in a more relaxed and less defensive posture. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give you a little taste,¡± Auri replied before her voice lowered. "I have a few mid-ranking officers in the Imperial forces on my payroll. They provide advance notices of patrols or any gaps in security for our operations."


    "However, one of these officers has been... less active and cooperative since Simol had been arrested. I''m starting to suspect he may have had a hand in it." She explained as her eyes flickered between the two men. "This behavior change started ever since he began associating with a particular gang and their crew that runs a blood pit."


    This revelation piqued Elijah and Coleman''s interests. This kind of intel could change everything and turn this town into NATO''s number one priority. But as they leaned in to listen, Auri¡¯s mouth had snapped shut as if she''d said enough.


    She narrowed her eyes at the two men, gauging their reactions, and watched as barely concealed frustration. It was apparent this little sample stirred something within them because they immediately honed in on her with a hungry gaze, eager to hear more about this tantalizing piece of information.


    "Come on, you can''t leave us hanging like that!¡± Elijah threw his arms up and let them smack at his side. ¡°We need more. We need names."


    Auri''s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she slowly shook her head. The woman¡¯s eyes never left Elijah''s face as she wagged a finger at him. "Oh no, I don''t think so.¡± She said in a satisfied and sultry tone, ¡°This proves I have access to valuable information. Information YOU want.¡±


    ¡°Now, I expect commitment. No more silly run around, no more silly games.¡± She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. ¡°If you want names, then you need to agree to work with me."


    Tension filled the room as Elijah and Auri stared each other down. Neither of them was willing to budge on the matter, putting themselves in a weaker position than the other. The air crackled with unspoken challenges as their mind raced to find a way to get a leg up on the other to get better terms.


    Elijah was the first to break the silence as his voice came out in a low and frustrated tone. "Look, we can''t commit to anything without more concrete information. You''re asking us to take a huge risk on faith alone."


    Auri''s tone sounded more like a contemptuous snarl, as if she were dealing with some bratty upstart. "And you''re asking me to potentially expose my entire network based on your word? " she scoffed and dismissively waved her hand. ¡°I don''t think so."


    "Then we''re at an impasse," Elijah retorted.


    The back-and-forth had stopped, but the heavy and uncomfortable atmosphere remained. Neither side was willing to give ground, but they were both desperate for what the other had or could provide. Both were operating as if this was a zero-sum game, playing for all or nothing.


    Just as it seemed the negotiation might break down entirely, Coleman stepped forward and pulled at Elijah¡¯s shoulder to indicate for him to back off. "How about this?" he spoke while looking specifically at Auri. ¡°We¡¯ll do jobs on commission. You give us a piece of information that¡¯s substantial, but not everything as payment."


    He looked between Auri and Elijah. "That way, we both can prove our worth without fully committing. If it goes well, we can discuss a longer-term arrangement."


    Elijah hummed in interest at that prospect. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but It was fair.


    ¡°Only if we get the right to refuse a job if it¡¯s unreasonable.¡± He spoke up, making putting an addendum into the proposed arrangement.


    Auri tilted her head, considering the proposal, while she drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair. After a long moment of thoughtful deliberation, she finally nodded, "I find this agreeable¡­¡± Some of the tension in her shoulders started fading away as Auri spoke. ¡°If this is the case, my commission may overlap with the information I provide."


    "What do you have in mind?" Coleman responded after letting go of Elijah¡¯s arm.


    Bringing a finger to her chin, Auri¡¯s eyes went off to the side as if she was considering options before her voice came out in a severe tone, "I need to know whether or not that¡­ ¡®unresponsive officer¡¯ had anything to do with Simol''s arrest." Disdain and indignation flickered in her eyes as she spoke, "I don''t care how you find out or what happens to him, but I need to know if he''s uninvolved. And¡­ if he is indeed involved..." She paused, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "...he needs to be removed."


    A feral but shallow grin spread across Elijah¡¯s face after hearing they had no restrictions on how to execute this new job. ¡°Give the names, and we¡¯ll look into it.¡±


    A sigh left Auri¡¯s mouth as she brought her hands together and tapped her fingers against each other. ¡°The blood pit owner¡¯s name is Hovem.¡± She spoke in a tone that sounded like she was doing so through great effort. ¡°And the officer''s name is¡­¡± She paused and interlinked her fingers together, and squeezed tightly. ¡°Watch Master Jayda.¡±

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 98

    As the sun dipped low over the horizon, it painted Glennsworth in hues of amber and gold, signifying the day''s end.


    However, Merchant''s Row still bustled with activity as the patrons went about their business, making final transactions beneath the fading light.


    The air was thick with the mingled scents of spices, produce, and cooked goods aging under the lingering heat. Shopkeepers called out their final bargains in a cacophony of desperation and enticement while a kaleidoscope of patrons clamored around, trying to get the best deals.


    Humans jostled alongside elves, trying to get the cheapest prices for meat pies, while more exotic races looked to raw materials. Dwarves haggled fiercely over metalwork as their bearded faces flushed with fervor during negotiations. Enaris bickered with each other, trying to get the best cut of linens and other fabrics. The Tauri, on the other hand, simply towered above the throng, pushing their way toward the weapons shops with their impressive horns glinting in the dying sunlight.


    On the other hand, Children darted between adults'' legs, snatching up fallen fruits and pocketing trinkets from strangers'' pockets. The clinking of coins and the rustle of goods changing hands provided a constant undercurrent that was a reminder to everyone that trade was the lifeblood that kept Glennsworth''s heart beating.


    Amidst this vibrant tapestry of commerce and life, Elijah twisted and maneuvered as he flowed through the crowd like water. He moved somewhat lethargically as if he had no purpose and was only casually observing as he eyed a group of soldiers in imperial garb hassle a poor stall owner for their grain.


    To any casual observer, he was just another patron, pausing occasionally to examine wares or flash a charismatic smirk at passing women. But in truth, Elijah was lurking and creeping. His gaze never strayed too far away from the fruit stall where Ferei was. The woman was engaged in a hushed conversation with Brak and presumably outlined the details of Elijah''s job for the scraggly, scarred man and his gang of miscreants.


    As Elijah continued his casual surveillance, his trained eye caught sight of another group attempting to blend into the crowd. He almost chuckled at their pathetic attempt at stealth. They stood out from the throng like sore thumbs, standing menacingly and even threatening passersby as they stared hard at the meeting taking place between Ferei and Brak.


    "A for effort, F for execution," Elijah muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.


    Keeping his movements subtle, Elijah pressed down on the push-to-talk button hidden in his pocket and spoke softly into his low-profile earpiece. "Baron, Yapper," he began with a hint of annoyance leaking through his voice at the callsign he had been forced to use.


    "Spotted another group, 30 meters from meeting point, between the statue and the dwarves arguing next to the tanner.¡± He continued mauevering through the crowd, but keeping a good distance from the thugs ¡°Four individuals, poorly concealed. You got them?"


    "Copy that, YAPPER," Coleman''s voice crackled through the earpiece, his tone almost amused as he emphasized Elijah''s call sign. "That marks three potential hostile groups."


    Elijah''s lip curled into an annoyed snarl at his new call sign. He huffed a haughty huff of air out of his nose, but his irritation quickly evaporated when he noticed Brak aggressively grab Ferei''s arm.


    The tension in the air spiked, and Elijah''s body tensed as his hand instinctively moved toward his concealed weapon. His eyes narrowed when he saw Ferei rip her arm free of Brak before backing up and pointing an accusing finger at the man with a mask of defiance, even though it was obvious she shook with fear.


    Seeing Brak¡¯s face contorted with anger and shot forward to grab her again, Elijah moved to break cover and intervene. However, a particular green-haired elf shot out from behind Ferei and pushed the thug back.


    The gang boss hesitated, then looked up to see Talarion standing between him and his would-be victim.


    "Baron," Elijah hissed into his comm, "Situation¡¯s escalating."


    As the confrontation drew the attention of nearby patrons, the crowd around them seemed to give them a wide berth and gawk, expecting a fight to break out. The air crackled with tension as Brak''s men started to move in, their hands drifting toward hidden weapons.


    "Roger that, Yapper," Coleman''s voice crackled through the earpiece, cool and steady. "We''ve got shooters in position."


    Elijah¡¯s eyes shifted to the group he''d spotted earlier. ¡°Copy that. Stand by.¡± He replied as he followed after the gang members when they started pushing through the crowd.


    These guys were apparently worse than amateurs who had the subtlety of a drunk elephant.  As they made their way to their boss, they barked insults and pushed random passersby out of the way, making it all too obvious what their intentions were. Intentions were immediately noticed by a certain feather mage who snapped his eyes to the group and readied his weapon while muttering a few words in a chant.


    Elijah slipped in after the thugs like a shadow while his hand ghosted over his waistband underneath his poncho like too. His fingers curled tightly around the grip of his pistol as he wove through the throng, keeping just out of sight.


    ¡°Baron, I got these guys,¡± Elijah started issuing directives as one of the guys on the ground. ¡°Once I start shooting, you take the other groups out.¡±


    A brief silence lingered over the net before his earpiece crackled to life. ¡°Copy that, Yapper.¡± Coleman came in clear and concise. ¡°Shooters 1 and 2 are green. They¡¯ll engage when you engage.¡±


    As he neared the clearing where conflict was taking place, his eyes darted to the back of each head and started marking who he¡¯d end first for maximum efficiency. At this point, the shouting became much clearer as Brak''s voice angrily cut through the market din, but just when his men entered the area, the gang boss threw up his hand.


    "Yer lucky, whore," Brak spat, his eyes darting around suspiciously. "I ain''t dumb. If yer out here meetin'' me in the open, that means they be watchin''."


    Elijah hung back, blending with the crowd at the edge of the clearing, straining his ears to catch what was being said.


    Ferei scoffed as she backed up more so she was between her two guards, Talaroian and Ryffka. "If you weren''t dumb, you wouldn''t grab me like that." She shot back in a voice dripping with disdain. ¡°But you have such a fragile ego and a tiny dick that you still grabbed out at me. I wonder what my boss will do when he finds out. Hmmm?¡±


    The air between them crackled with tension. Brak leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "By the end of this, yer gonna pay. You''ll belong to me, one way or another."


    Ferei rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by the threat. "Are you going to accept the job or not?" she asked, her tone bored and slightly exasperated.


    Brak''s face twisted into an ugly scowl. For a moment, Elijah thought he might lash out again. But then the gang leader''s shoulders sagged slightly. "Fine," he growled.¡± he hissed, throwing his hand over his shoulder, indicating his men to follow. "I find yer gods damned imperial, whore."


    With that, Brak spun on his heel and stormed off. His men scrambled to follow, pushing people over and even knocking a few to the floor as they caught up with their boss. The rest of the crowd parted before him like water. No one wanted to stand in the way of such a contemptuous man and his band of brigands.


    Elijah''s eyes narrowed as more groups of thugs filtered through the crowd. One particularly clumsy individual bumped into his shoulder, causing him to stumble into another random passerby. The thug, oblivious to his near-brush with death, continued following his boss through Merchants Row.


    A disgruntled mumble left Elijah''s mouth as he righted himself. He clacked his push-to-talk, addressing his team leader. "Baron, I think they''re backing off."


    Coleman''s voice crackled through the earpiece, "Copy that, Yapper. Shooters 1 and 2 confirm their targets are retreating as well."


    With the immediate threat dissipating, Elijah allowed himself to melt away into the crowd. His hand slowly released its grip on his concealed weapon, though his muscles remained tense as he kept his head on a swivel.


    Meanwhile, Ferei stood rooted in place, her hand still gripping her arm where Brak had grabbed her. The woman¡¯s fingers trembled slightly as fear and anger coursed through her veins. "Rat bastard¡­" she hissed a few choice words under her breath. "Thinks he can just grab at me like that?" She spat at the ground in disgust."


    Her gaze dropped to her arm, where she could still feel the phantom pressure of Brak''s grip. "I swear, if he touches me again, I''ll cut his cock off myself..." She continued to murmur as if trying to convince herself more than anyone else.


    Out of nowhere, Talarion reached out and grasped Ferei''s shoulder. "You alright?"


    When his hand made contact, Ferei nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, and she wore such a fearful expression that one could have thought she was looking at a ghost. Her facade of a confident and competent woman crumbled in an instant, and for a split second, she felt herself taken back to darker times when rough hands hurt her.


    With a sharp breath, she jerked away from Talarion''s touch and backed away a few steps with her hands clutched at her chest. However, realizing it was just Talarion, Ferei forced herself to relax. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I-I''m fine," She nodded skittishly, trying to put on a brave front. "Let''s... let''s just go back to the tavern."


    Talarion tilted his head curiously, wondering why she had such a visceral reaction. He looked to Ryffka, who had the same inquisitive look and just shrugged before following after her.


    As she marched off towards the tavern, Ferei hugged herself to soothe herself and smooth out her metaphorical ruffled feathers. In an attempt to regain her composure, she steadied her breathing, but her mind continued to race, replaying the confrontation with Brak and her reaction to Talarion¡¯s touch.


    Ferei knew the man was just trying to be helpful and supportive, but it still made her feel exposed. The fact that she was so vulnerable to just a touch made her skin crawl. If she continued to harbor this kind of weakness, then it was only a matter of time until she would find herself locked into another room for weeks on end to be used and abused for Brak¡¯s gain.


    When the tavern finally came into sight, Ferei paused outside the door and stood there for a few moments. Her old habits started returning as they fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.


    She had to gather her wits about her before she went in to see that man, but the weight of her new situation pressed down on her like a physical force. She knew she was essentially ¡®owned¡¯ and made to play in a dangerous game she didn''t fully understand, and her new ¡®owner¡¯ wasn¡¯t completely forthright with her about his real objects.


    But, at the same time, he hadn''t forced himself on her yet. but how long would that last?


    The uncertainty gnawed at Ferei, making her stomach churn as she took a deep breath. She had to steel herself and appear strong and in control, or else her new boss would run her over.


    But inside, Ferei felt anything but in control.


    The tavern door seemed to loom before her like a portal back to a world where she was a toy in someone else''s hands. But she knew there was very little choice in what happened next. Her boss had made it abundantly clear that he would not let her go so easily.


    She reached out toward the door handle with a final, steadying breath. A silent prayer to any god that would listen quietly left her lips as she yanked it open.


    As Ferei stepped through those heavy wooden doors and into the tavern, she was greeted with a relatively sleep atmosphere. Only a few patrons lingered, most of which were engaged in a couple of pitiful attempts to charm the working girls into a lower price as they served them food and drink. The air was thick with the scent of ale and low conversation murmurs, making it impossible to spot anyone of note.


    Scattered throughout the room were faces Ferei recognized as part of her new boss''s crew. Each gave her a quick, appraising glance as she entered as if scrutinizing each inch of her before returning to their previous activities.


    Ferei was more than certain that the mix of curiosity and wariness in their eyes meant that they were trying to figure out where she fit in their hierarchy. But one face remained fixed on her, a sly smirk playing across its features.


    Her boss.


    She had always known him with his mask always on. But when he finally removed it, allowing her a clear view of his face, Ferei was taken aback. Instead of the hardened, scarred visage she expected, she saw someone who looked as if they had no business dealing with the low lives of Glennsworth. He was a relatively handsome man with long, dark hair pulled back into a messy bun. His beard wasn¡¯t exceptionally well-groomed, but it still framed a strong jawline, and she was more than certain that his features would go far with a bit of touch-up.


    Ferei tried to project confidence when she approached her boss despite the unease, but it was apparent to everyone that she was putting on a front. ¡°Brak accepted the job, boss." She reported in a voice steadier than she felt.


    Elijah leaned back and nodded as his dark eyes studied her for a moment. "Good," he replied, bringing his hand to his chin. "Were there any complications?"


    Bringing her hand to her arm, Ferei rubbed the bruised arm where Brak had grabbed at her. Her eyes flicked downwards for a moment before she looked back to respond to Elijah, but he beat her to the punch.


    "Other than the fact that he grabbed you, I mean." Elijah cut her off, noticing her nursing her arm.


    Taken aback by Elijah¡¯s observation, Ferei quickly looked over her shoulder to Talarion and Ryffka, thinking they had said something to the man. However, she found the two chatting with some working girls across the room. They had been together this entire time, and they all had just arrived a, so it would have been impossible for them to get word to her boss¡­


    Her carefully constructed facade began to crumble as she hugged herself. "Y-ya, I um..." she stammered, struggling to regain her composure. "There was... how did you¡­ know?"


    "Oh, I was watching," Elijah said in a manner as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "What? Did you think we''re just gonna make you fend for yourself? That would be absurd."


    Ferei''s brows furrowed as she studied Elijah¡¯s face. She was used to the usual dealings that kids from the streets had to endure, especially in gangs. Protection often came at a steep price, if it came at all. Loyalty was bought and sold like any other commodity, and trust was a luxury few could afford.


    Elijah huffed in amusement at Ferei¡¯s confused expression."Look," he continued with a chuckle, "you work for us now. That means you''re afforded all the perks that come with it.¡± He gestured to himself with both hands. ¡°If you get our backs, we get yours. That¡¯s how this works.¡±


    "I... I don''t understand," she said hesitantly in a voice barely above a whisper.


    A sigh left Elijah''s mouth as he looked back at the rest of the team. They gave him a look that clearly said, ¡®This is your circus, so you have to deal with your monkeys yourself.¡¯ He turned back to Ferei, rubbing his temples. "Okay..." he replied with a tone full of exasperation.


    "Listen," Elijah began, trying to muster as much patience as possible. "Here''s how this works. You keep your head down. You don''t draw unnecessary attention to yourself or our operations. You don''t talk about what we do to anyone outside the crew. And most importantly, you don''t screw us over."


    He paused, making sure every word sank in. "You do all that, and we''ll take care of you. You''ll be well-fed, have a roof over your head, and we''ll protect you to the best of our abilities."


    Elijah''s eyes bore into Ferei''s with an intense gaze. "That means no more worrying about ending up on the streets or being sold off to the highest bidder. It means you don''t have to sell yourself or do anything you''re uncomfortable with just to survive. We''re not saints, but we take care of our own."


    He leaned in closer, his voice this time took a dangerous edge. "But understand this ¨C betrayal isn''t an option. Cross us, and I¡¯ll kill you. Got it?"


    Now, these were the kinds of threats Ferei was used to, and she nodded in affirmation. "I understand, boss," she said, her voice steadier now.


    This was a far cry from the treatment she was used to in the underworld. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the odds weren''t wholly stacked against her. The rules were clear, the expectations set, and the lines of where she stood in the pecking order were clearly defined.


    She still wasn¡¯t sure whether this mysterious man was trustworthy, but she also had no real choice in the matter. Ferei was just going to have to roll with the punches and hope her throat wasn¡¯t slit when everything was over and done for.


    Satisfied with her answer, Elijah clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, get some food and enjoy yourself a bit." He said, gesturing towards the platters of food with his head. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to head back out relatively soon."


    A mix of curiosity and apprehension quickly formed on Ferei''s face while piling food onto a free plate. "Back out?" she asked hesitantly.


    "Yeah," Elijah confirmed, resting his chin in his hand as she watched her greedily grab the meat. "I need you to find out who Hovem is and who he works for. I know he owns a blood pit owner, and I know he does business with the Imperials."


    Ferei grabbed a fork and stabbed it into a piece of meat as a difficult look came across her face. "I know ''em quite... well," She said with discomfort evident in her voice. ¡°A twisted mind, that one¡­¡±


    Catching the undercurrent of unease, Elijah¡¯s eyebrow shot up as he studied her face for a few moments. He was picking up something more to familiarize her with, but he decided not to touch on it.


    Ripping into her piece of meat, Ferei chewed slowly and savored the taste while she composed her thoughts. "Hovem''s the kind of man who''d sell his own mother if he thought it''d turn a profit," her words came out slightly muffled as she spoke with her mouth full. "Owns the largest blood pit in Glennsworth. Real piece of work."


    At this point, her eating took a fevered pitch as she stabbed into another piece of meat as if she hadn¡¯t tasted such delicacies in decades. "He likes to pretend he''s some kind of nobleman, all fancy clothes and airs. But underneath? He''s as vicious as they come. Enjoys watching the fights a little too much, if you catch my meaning."


    Ferei''s eyes lit up as her hand went to a loaf of bread. "He''s got connections everywhere. Imperials, local guards, other gang bosses ¨C you name it. And the bastard got dirty on ¡®em all.¡± She jabs her soiled fork at Elijah to drive the point home. ¡° Likes to use it to keep his little empire running smooth."


    She paused, thinking carefully about her next few words. "But the thing about Hovem? He''s always looking for the next big thing. Loyalty is as fickle as the wind, and right now? That''s probably the Imperials."


    Elijah scratched at his beard thoughtfully, processing the information. "Those kinds of people are really tricky to deal with," he mused, "but they also have massive potential."


    "Sounds like a real charmer," Coleman inserted himself into the conversation and spoke dryly. "How deep do his connections go?"


    Somewhat startled by the new voice, Ferei turned to him nervously and put down her fork. She had never really talked to Coleman outside of a few formal greetings, so she wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to do with him or his position in her boss¡¯ crew.


    "N-no, not really¡­¡± She stammered. ¡°Last I heard, he was talking to some folks there were really high up." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "When I was heading my gang, Hovem paid us to shake down a few tailors and bakers not working with the Imperials... but that''s it."


    Elijah and Coleman meaningfully examined that revelation. A profound silence ensued, which made Ferei even more uncomfortable. However, seeing as she wasn''t getting any more questions, the woman hesitantly returned to eating.


    Switching to English, Elijah let out a troubled sigh as he tapped on the table. "I, uhhh¡­ I dunno, man¡­ That kind of guy is very high risk, high reward." He ran a hand through his hair as he ran scenarios through his head. "If we can turn him, it could be a game-changer. But if it goes south..."


    "We may just have to go for it,¡± Coleman responded with a stressed-out look. ¡°Timetables are accelerating, and command is making their first move."


    Shifting his posture, Elijah gave Coleman a hard look to see if he was serious or not, but he couldn¡¯t detect a hint of deceit ."Shit¡­¡± He responded before pressing his fingers into his eyes. ¡°So¡­ Shit¡­¡± He cursed again as he tried to formulate his thoughts. ¡°What does that mean for us? Are we pulling out to support large-scale ground ops?¡±


    Coleman shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his leg bounced up and down. ¡°No¡­¡± He replied, looking at Elijah, saying he really didn¡¯t like what he would be saying next. ¡°They¡¯re moving to support battlespace shaping operations that are being conducted¡­¡±


    Elijah just stared at Coleman incredulously, his eyes narrowing as the implications of what he was hearing sank in. Coleman, on the other hand, looked as if a great weight had suddenly been placed on his shoulders. The pressure of their new reality became evident in his posture, and his expression continued souring.


    "And there''s a huge emphasis on supporting OUR shaping operation," Coleman continued, his voice low and tense. He brought his hands to his mouth as if trying to hold back the words he was about to say physically. After a moment, he dropped them and locked eyes with Elijah. "They''re taking off the leash, carte blanche style. If there''s an angle to work, work it."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 99

    Sitting in the back of the sleek government sedan, Toivonen¡¯s fingers pressed into the bridge of her nose as her hands cupped over her mouth in an attempt to physically hold back a migraine that was creeping in. The soft hum of the car''s engine and the gentle sway of motion did little to ease her tension as she found herself completely overwhelmed after the past 24 hours.


    Her mind raced, replaying the events that had led to this moment. Yzael''s demonstration with Anduril had been impressive enough, but her subsequent showcase with Raytheon sent shockwaves through the highest echelons of power. The fusion of magic and technology opened up possibilities for an iteration of what was called the HARM missile to incorporate some new energy.


    Toivonen wasn¡¯t particularly well versed in whatever weaponry the military was in play but knew something significant when she saw it. The thing was apparently difficult to manufacture due to its exotic nature, but Toivonen wasn¡¯t sure about the details. She had just given the report a cursory glance before returning to fussing over the new candy of her eye on the other side of the rift.


    Nevertheless, since that presentation, the military and political leadership have been so obsessed with the counter-offensive they sidelined every other issue. Every meeting, briefing, and memo was focused on leveraging this new knowledge against the otherworldly threat. This, in turn, soon led to establishing a permanent position in this new world.


    The fervor for an invasion had hit a fevered pitch, and it made Toivonen''s stomach churn. She wasn''t ready. Not by a long shot. She had only recently managed to wrangle limited control over that one Special Forces team, and she had to do it by dragging SOCOM kicking and screaming to the negotiation table. She had planned to carefully position her paramilitary officers to either replace or supplement them and build a robust intelligence network, but that was immediately shot down.


    The team wasn''t just surviving; they were thriving. They had embedded themselves so deeply that they were now monitoring a major logistics hub in the middle of a major population center that resented this Imperial force. When that information hit the brass, all hell broke loose, and any talks of pulling them out in place of Toivonen''s people were promptly dumped into a burning dumpster.


    Suddenly, everyone from four-star generals to undersecretaries was clamoring for immediate action, and the timetables Toivonen had fought tooth and nail to slow down were now being dramatically accelerated. Months of careful planning and positioning were being thrown out the window in favor of striking quickly and early. The military wanted to capitalize on this intelligence goldmine, and the politicians were all too eager to give them the green light.


    Toivonen felt like she was watching a runaway train, and she was powerless to stop it. The very success she had hoped for was now threatening to upend everything. As the car sped towards the meeting that would determine the fate of their world and the other, she couldn''t help but feel as if she was going to hurl.


    "Greedy fucks," she muttered under her breath as she pushed her hands against the bridge of her nose even harder.


    From the front seat, her driver''s voice cut through her thoughts. "Ma''am? Did you say something?"


    Realizing she''d spoken aloud, Toivonen let out a sigh and straightened herself up a bit. "No, nothing," she replied in a tone that said she was anything but fine. "Just thinking out loud."


    The driver¡¯s eyes flicked up at the rearview mirror and saw just how stressed out his passenger was. His initial instinct was to speak up, but he knew better than to pry into someone in the intelligence field¡¯s business.


    Especially when it came to powerful people like Toivonen.


    Whatever was bothering her most likely had layers upon layers of secret classifications that would land him not in jail but probably in front of a firing squad. So, he did what he was trained to do.


    To shut up and drive.


    Another sigh left Toivonen¡¯s mouth as she leaned back against the leather seat. Her eyes became unfocused as they drifted towards the window at the passing landscape. The world outside seemed oblivious to the monumental decisions being made, the forces being set in motion.


    Every fiber of her being screamed that they were moving too fast, pushing forward without proper understanding or preparation. But her voice was increasingly drowned out by the chorus of eager politicians, gung-ho Generals and ambitious colleagues. Everyone seemed to salivate at the prospect of establishing a foothold in this new world and harness this new found power.


    However, Toivonen found that any action she took would be completely pointless. Yzael''s last presentation had been the nail in the coffin, and all of a sudden, the petrodollar was thrown out with the old, while in came the Manadollar. It seemed like she would just have to work with what she had.


    "Ma''am," her driver''s voice cut through her thoughts, "we''re approaching the Pentagon."


    Toivonen nodded as her face shifted to the stoic G-man expression she usually wore. The Pentagon was a fitting location for what would likely be the high-level meeting that would ultimately decide the fate of thousands, if not millions, of people. The last pieces of this monumental operation would fall into place in the labyrinthine corridors of the world''s largest office building.


    She knew even before she, or anyone else, for that matter, had set foot in the building that the decision had already been made. Gathering the highest echelons of military and intelligence leadership would just be a formality. The Joint Chiefs and the Directors of the CIA, NSA, and DIA would be there. Key members of the National Security Council would be present, and likely a handful of carefully selected congressmen from the intelligence committees.


    And every one of them will decide to pull the trigger.


    As the car approached the massive structure, Toivonen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. In a matter of days, perhaps weeks at most, American forces would be crossing into another world. And she, for better or worse, would be at the epicenter of it all.


    "Let¡¯s see if we can avoid another shit show," she muttered to herself as the car pulled up to the security checkpoint. Whatever happened next, there was no turning back now. The die was cast, and all she could do was try to guide the outcome as best she could with the limited tools at her disposal.


    As the car came to a stop, Toivonen''s driver quickly exited and moved to open her door. However, instead of immediately stepping out, Toivonen hunched over in her seat, balling her hands together and pressing them into her face. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to center herself.


    The driver stood there in the door frame with a concerned look etched on his face. He''d driven Toivonen to countless high-stakes meetings, but he''d never seen her quite like this. "Ma''am?" he ventured hesitantly, "Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?"


    Toivonen remained in that position for several long moments, her breath coming in slow, measured inhales and exhales. The weight of what she was about to be part of pressed down on her like a physical force. This wasn''t just another meeting. This was history in the making, a turning point for all of humanity.


    The sheer magnitude of it all was almost incomprehensible. New resources, new technologies, new threats¡ªeverything would change, forever altering Earth''s geopolitical landscape.


    Finally, Toivonen took one last deep breath and looked up, meeting her driver''s concerned gaze. "I''m fine," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Just... preparing myself."


    As she exited the car, Toivonen straightened her suit, the Pentagon looming over her. Turning her eyes up, she looked up at those imposing pillars that simultaneously held up and protected the entrance of the most important military thought center in the world. It seemed like a fitting symbol of the immense power about to be unleashed.


    Toivonen strode forward with purpose as her heels clicked against the polished floor as she entered the Pentagon. The building''s usual bustling atmosphere was much heavier than normal, with an undercurrent of tension so palpable that one might have been able to cut it with a knife. Military personnel and civilian staff alike moved with increased urgency, their faces etched with barely concealed anxiety.


    The Pentagon as a whole was a hive of activity. Aides rushed back and forth carrying classified folders and secure tablets. Clusters of officers were huddled in the corners, engaged in hushed conversations. The typical cacophony of ringing phones had multiplied to an extreme as the incessant ringing echoed throughout every hallway.


    Everyone knew something big was coming. Toivonen didn¡¯t even need to see inside any room or eavesdrop on any conversation to know that everyone was running around like a chicken with their heads cut off. In fact, she had already been briefed on the current happenings on Earth. Earth. From the borders of Baltic states to the South China Sea, each potential hot spot had incidents that very closely bordered acts of war.


    None knew precisely when the Americans would make their move on the rift, but they all knew it was imminent. The rift alone had sparked a global firestorm of diplomatic and military posturing, but coupled with the fact that the Americans were keeping everyone else except close allies out, had put the world on a teetering edge.


    Protests had erupted across the globe, ranging from allies expressing concern to outright adversaries condemning American unilateralism and lambasting them for being Neo-Colonial. The United Nations had become a battlefield of words and resolutions. Time and again, the UN tried to pass resolutions to internationalize the rift operation, but the United States wielded its veto power relentlessly.


    The UN General Assembly had passed non-binding resolutions calling for international cooperation and oversight, but those had been outright ignored. Legal challenges had been mounted at the International Court of Justice and the World Trade Organization, but the Americans threatened to pull funding. Multilateral treaties had been proposed, aiming to regulate access to and exploitation of the new world''s resources, but the US Ambassador simply laughed.


    Some nations had even attempted to impose sanctions on the United States, but America had bared its teeth. In no uncertain terms, they had made clear that any interference would be interpreted as an act of war and readied their military as such. The message was unmistakable: the rift and the world beyond was America¡¯s domain, and they were prepared to defend that claim with the full might of their military.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    And with the US Military industrial complex already ramping up over the past decade, no one wanted to be the first to test them.


    As Toivonen passed by a room where senior military officials bickered with each other in front of a screen with the map of the Taiwan Strait, she couldn''t help but feel the weight of the global tension. The rift had become a catalyst, exacerbating existing geopolitical fault lines and creating new ones.


    The world was a powder keg, and America was about to light the fuse.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until Toivonen found herself nearing her destination due to the aggressively layered security checkpoints. It seemed no expense had been saved for this meeting since the security had been unprecedented, even by the Pentagon¡¯s standards.


    Secret Service agents and military police were stationed at every bend and turn, haggling and harassing anyone who even dared to look towards the meeting hall. A multitude of metal detectors and full-body scanners greet Toivonen as she goes through the painful process of a complete security sweep. Her credentials and biometrics were checked, rechecked, and cross-referenced from multiple agents from multiple agencies against a secure database. Her phone and electronics were taken and tossed into a Faraday bag. And finally, a multitude of pat-downs by stone-face agents before she was allowed even near the meeting room.


    When everything was said and done, Toivonen let out a disgruntled huff. She felt a little violated from so many hands wandering her body in search of anything that wasn¡¯t attached to her. However, she finally entered what had to be the most secure room in the world.


    Once inside, Toivonen¡¯s eyes immediately found the President, and she snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute. "Mr. President," she said in a voice full of respect for his position.


    The president gave a curt nod, which signified Toivonen''s being at ease. Her arm dropped as she made her way to her seat next to the most powerful figures in American national security.


    Directly to her left was the CIA Director Mich O''Reilly, her direct boss. His face was a mask of calm concentration as he gave her a respectful nod. To her right was Secretary of Defense Mark Leigh, engaged in a hushed conversation with General Kincaid, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.


    Further down the table, she spotted NSA Director Admiral Reynolds and watched his fingers dance over a secure tablet. The Director of the DIA was also present and found himself deep in discussion with National Security Advisor Eliza Sutton.


    The atmosphere in the room was so heavy that Toivonen felt as if they were all weighing in on someone''s verdict for execution.


    But the more she thought about that comparison, Toivonen realized that what they were doing was a lot more extreme. They were here to decide the fate of goddamn worlds, at the very least, legions of soldiers and potentially thousands of civilians.


    As the last few attendees took their seats, aides moved swiftly around the room, distributing classified folders to each person present. The soft rustle of paper and the muted clicks of secure tablets being activated filled the air.


    The President leaned back in his chair, adopting a more casual posture that belied the gravity of the situation. "Okay, let''s get this show on the road," he said, his voice carrying easily across the room.


    He paused, his eyes sweeping across the assembled faces before continuing. "The question of pushing into alien territory is not a matter of if, but when and how." The President''s gaze lingered on Toivonen and CIA Director O''Reilly. "Now, from what I understand, there are a few dissenting voices in the mix."


    Toivonen felt the weight of the President''s gaze, knowing that her concerns about the operation''s timing and preparation had not gone unnoticed. She maintained a neutral expression, aware that every eye in the room alternated between her and O''Reilly.


    Tapping rhythmically on the desk, The President¡¯s eyes remained fixed on Toivonen and O''Reilly as he continued, his tone becoming more assertive. "You two are the only ones holding us up at this point.¡± He said in more of a growl than anything else. ¡°And I need you to understand that the forces on the other side of this rift are not the only factors in play here."


    He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "For instance, our entire population is rabid for blood in response to an attack on Americans¡­ on American soil.¡± He said slowly and deliberately while emphasizing each word. ¡°The public doesn¡¯t just want justice; they want revenge, and they want it now."


    The President''s gaze then swept across the room. "Not only that, but we''ve got Congress breathing down our necks, already accusing us of inaction.¡± He knocked on the table with his fist a few times. ¡°Especially when the rift and our nation¡¯s security is the only thing anyone''s talking about."


    "Internationally, we''re walking a tightrope.¡± He continued with one last rap of his knuckles on the hardwood surface. ¡°Our allies have been getting restless and are demanding more since we¡¯ve yet to act. Our adversaries are desperate to stop us and have even considered starting a goddamn war in order to do so."


    A hateful growl left the President''s mouth as he stopped peering around the room and glared directly at Toivonen. "Which brings me to my question." He hissed while narrowing his eyes at her. "Why is it that the CIA, particularly you, Ms. Toivonen, is so insistent on delaying? We have a narrow window of opportunity here and every day we wait is a day every single one of our enemies can use to make things more difficult."


    Toivonen shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. Before she could respond, CIA Director O''Reilly spoke up, "Well, Mr. President, we¡ª"


    ¡°Mich,¡± The President''s tone was harsh when he cut off O¡¯Reilly with a raised hand.


    Mich O¡¯Reilly fell silent, and his mouth slowly closed as he gave his subordinate a sympathetic look. It seemed she was on her own for this one.


    The President''s eyes bored into Toivonen. "I''d rather hear it from the horse''s mouth," he said in a low and intense voice. "I¡¯m getting excuse after excuse, so I¡¯m curious as to what really is going on here. What. Is. The. Delay, Ms. Toivonen?"


    In this very moment, the accumulation of long hours, stress, lack of sleep, and sheer exhaustion seemed to catch up with Toivonen all at once. The overwhelming pressure from not just the President''s gaze, but every important figure in the room, bore into her as if they were interrogating her very soul. They all seemed to view her as the problem, not someone trying to address one.


    Every nervous tick Toivonen had ever suppressed began to surface. Her right leg started to bounce involuntarily under the table. Her fingers twitched, yearning to drum against the polished wood. She even started to bite at the skin of her inner cheek. Somehow, through sheer force of will, she managed to maintain her poker face as she held eye contact with the most powerful man on Earth.


    Despite the internal turmoil, Toivonen recognized this as her chance to really make her case. She took a deep breath, trying to stead the hands that were shaking like a leaf in her lap, and steeled herself.


    "Mr. President," she began in a tone steadier than she felt, "the delay isn''t about reluctance or fear. It''s about ensuring we don''t repeat our past mistakes."


    She paused, carefully choosing her next words. "We''ve made incredible progress in establishing a foothold beyond the rift. We have assets in place that are gathering critical intelligence, but our network is still fragile, and our understanding is far from complete."


    Toivonen leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked with the President''s. "We''re dealing with a world that operates on fundamentally different principles than our own.¡± She continued as she did her best to control her nerves. ¡°Monsters straight out of some fantasy novel have become real, tangible threats and¡­ potential assets."


    Knowing her insistence on patience would likely confront her, Toivonen opted to come prepared as she gestured her hand towards the document in front of all of the attendees. "Sir, I believe you and the members of this meeting have all heard about that Special Forces team embedded in a major civilian population center near a crucial enemy logistics hub."


    A moment of silence passed as Toivonen looked around the table to ensure everyone was on the same page. "What you may not know is the extent of their infiltration, " she continued after everyone grabbed their folders and opened them while nodding in recognition. This team hasn''t just established a presence; they''ve compromised the entire town."


    Murmurs of interest spread throughout a few of the meeting''s members, but most kept their gaze locked on the intelligence report. "Due to their efforts, we now have a high-ranking town guard on our payroll,¡± Toivonen''s voice grew more confident as she spoke. This asset will allow us to smuggle people and equipment through what should be a secure checkpoint. But that''s not all."


    She leaned forward slightly as her tone grew a little more excited at the growing interest of the attendees. "The operatives in play have also made significant inroads with the criminal underground. These aren''t just petty thieves; we''re talking about large organizations with their fingers in every pie throughout the region."


    Toivonen could see she had their full attention now. Even the President''s stern expression had softened slightly to one of intrigue.


    "If we can worm our way deeper into the underground and co-opt this syndicate or cartel in its entirety, it would become invaluable in maintaining order."


    She paused, letting the implications sink in. "This could be the key to avoiding another situation like what happened in the Middle East between 2003 and 2020." Toivonen''s eyes swept across the room, gauging reactions. "We could potentially control the entire region''s black market with more time. That level of influence would be priceless in stabilizing the area post-invasion and managing potential insurgencies."


    The room fell silent as Toivonen finished speaking. Everyone looked at each other, knowing that Toivonen¡¯s reasoning was rock solid, and they couldn¡¯t precisely refute her. Even the President remained quiet as he sat there with an unreadable expression. The only sounds were the murmurs of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of Defense, who leaned in to whisper a few words to the President.


    Toivonen held her breath, watching the silent exchange as hope fluttered in her chest as she saw the three men nod and continue speaking amongst each other.


    But when the President turned back to her, his expression was resolute. "Ms. Toivonen, while your work is commendable, we simply can''t afford any more delays.¡± Said definitively as he leaned back in his chair. ¡°The operation proceeds as scheduled."


    The words hit Toivonen like a physical blow. Her carefully maintained stoic facade crumbled instantly as her once confident look deflated into one of defeat. All the tension, all the hope, all the carefully constructed arguments seemed to evaporate in an instant.


    Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked utterly lost. The weight of the decision, the potential consequences, and the feeling of helplessness crashed over her like a tidal wave. At that moment, Toivonen wasn''t the self-assured and assertive intelligence officer who had walked into the room. Instead, after months of careful work and planning had been brushed aside, she became the insecure and uncertain intelligence officer when she first joined the agency.


    Toivonen¡¯s head snapped around the room, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. She tried to respond and refute the decision in any capacity but was reduced to a stuttering mess. The poor woman couldn¡¯t help but think that if they went in without setting the groundwork as they did in Iraq, then they would all be doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.


    It was as if a train was running at full speed off a bridge, and she was in the front car, powerless to stop it.


    But the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence and her spiraling thoughts. "However, we do see the value in what you¡¯re doing," he began in a measured voice. On the other side, we¡¯ll be forming a beachhead for command, control, and logistics before we run straight into a major offensive."


    "We''ll allocate whatever resources you need to continue whatever project you¡¯re working," The President added, slightly softening his tone. "Send Mich a list of whatever it is you want, and I¡¯ll make sure it gets to you."


    Caught off guard by this sudden shift, Toivonen found herself at a loss for words. Her usual poker face was gone, and in its stead, she was expressing herself rapidly while processing this new information. "Um... uh... well..."


    The attendees waited patiently until the intelligence officer collected her thoughts. After a few deep breaths, Toivonen finally steadied herself as she looked between her boss, the CIA Director, and the President. "Well¡­ um¡­ The key to this are those operators I¡¯ve been talking about. Specifically one or two of them.¡± She said hesitantly. ¡°I need to interface with them directly so they''re under my directives."


    The President looked to General Kincaid with a firm look. "Give her whatever she needs.¡± He said firmly. ¡°If you have to discharge someone to bring them into her fold, then do it. I don¡¯t care how."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 100

    Lieutenant DuPont had wandered to the edge of Fort Gideon¡¯s food court and munched on a cheese and bean burrito while watching a horde of Engineers and their specialized vehicles rumble past him. The base had always been a hive of activity, but ever since the Seabees and Army Corps of Engineers had rolled in, the intensity of damn near everything had skyrocketed to an entirely new level.


    Taking another bite, DuPont couldn¡¯t help but glance at the building materials and what looked like train tracks that stuck out of the 5-ton trucks while heavier vehicles hauled excavators and bulldozers. This sight would have been mundane and rudimentary at any point in time, but DuPont knew this was a huge deal because of where they were going and what they were building.


    The Lieutenant had played guard dog for these engineers before as he and his platoon patrolled the periphery of the rift while engineering teams slowly built an entire system of railways leading to it. It was one of many steps to what DuPont knew was to come. The sight of those tracks leading to nowhere sent a chill down his spine, and as he thought about it, he realized they were a tangible reminder of what kind of Juggernaut the US Military actually was.


    As he observed the seemingly endless convoy, DuPont dwelled on its implications. He started piecing together all the subtle signs that were being dropped for an imminent invasion. The railroad was just the beginning. He had noticed the massive warehouses springing up seemingly overnight, designed to store enough supplies to sustain an entire army in a world where resupply might be impossible.


    Railways weren¡¯t the only things being laid either. Massive road networks that could support incredible amounts of weight were being built all over the place, leading to two destinations.


    The Rift and Fort Gideon.


    It was obvious to anyone who bothered paying attention that something would go down, but most decided to shove their heads into the dirt and not think about it. The idea of invading a country, or in this case, a new world, was all fun and games until it the rubber met the road. Then, all of a sudden, reality hit, and the jokes and bravado stopped the moment you had to stop by the aid station to get your blood type checked.


    The mounting stress and tension were compounded by the increase frequency and intensity of drills. Just yesterday, DuPont had overseen an exercise that simulated punching through enemy lines to get to a contingent of friendly forces that had been cut off. The scenario had felt different from anything else. It was¡­. more real, this time. More immediate.


    But the most telling sign was the food. The mess hall had been serving meals that most would consider a luxury, especially in the military. DuPont remembered the chuck roast they''d had a few nights ago. The meat was so tender it practically fell off the bone, and everyone laughed that they were going to go in the next day. And just last night, they''d been treated to carbonara.


    Suspicions at the increased quality of food had rippeld throughout the monolithic base and its sister compounds that surrounded the magical anomaly that sat in the middle of ohio. Giving your troops the last bit of comfort and feeding them wellwas an old military tradition just before a major operation and DuPont knew this was the calm before the storm.


    Tension in every single service member in this god-forsaken base was so tight that DuPont thought someone was going to snap sooner or later. The heightened force posture and increased number of armed patrols didn¡¯t help ease everyone''s frayed nerves. At this point, DuPont just wanted to hear they have the go-ahead and get this shit over with already, but he also knew there was a greater game being played.


    The emphasis on operational security and the constant drone of helicopters overhead didn¡¯t help ease everyone''s frayed nerves.


    At this point DuPont watched as the convoy of engineers rumbled past, his mind drifted back to the frustrating duties he and his men had been forced to perform ithe past few weeks. The emphasis on operational security had reached new heights, with orders coming down from the top to obfuscate their forces and movements from satellite observation.


    He recalled the tedious work of setting up strange camouflage netting over entire motor pools, ensuring that every vehicle was hidden from prying eyes above. They''d spent days erecting false structures ¨C inflatable tanks and mock artillery pieces ¨C strategically placed to confuse any attempts of overhead reconnaissance.


    The most maddening task had been the constant relocation of equipment. Every night, they''d have to check in with the counter-intelligence guys and move vehicles or even supplies to different locations, only to move them again the next night. DuPont was convinced it was an exhausting game designed as a punishment.


    But he also understood it was all necessary. With their country¡¯s near-peer adversaries in Europe and Asia watching their every move, they couldn''t afford to give away their hand even though he didn¡¯t quite understand the game that was being played. He''d read about the international saber-rattling going on, but it seemed those swords were close to leaving their sheaths.


    DuPont had seen more than one soldier officially reprimanded for complaining or even speaking too loudly about these measures. The message was clear: this was not to be questioned or discussed in any capacity and would be dealt with siwftly and harshly.


    ¡°God¡­¡± DuPont groaned as he winced at the still ongoing convoy. ¡°How goddamn many are there? Jesus¡­¡± He sighed, wanting nothing more but to just cross the road and head back to his dorm.


    Taking a massive bite out of his burrito, DuPont watched the seemingly endless stream of vehicles rumble past with the look of defeat spread across his features. His jaw worked mechanically as he chewed slowly before turning his gaze upward when the air was filled with the thunderous sound of rotors.


    What greeted DuPont wasn¡¯t the usual cluster of patrolling helicopters or gunships, but a veritable swarm, belonging to the 101st Airborne, passing overhead. Not only that, but each helicopter was full of infantry and had Japanese Torii¡¯s spray painted in red on the side. DuPont''s eyes tracked the formation, taking in the impressive display of aerial power, especially with the AH-64 Apaches escorting them.


    ¡°Oh¡­ they¡¯re going to go push someone¡¯s shit in, I guess .¡± DuPont muttered with a slight cringe whe he noticed those death machines were loaded to the gills with Hellfire missiles and nothing else.


    The sheer number of aircraft was staggering. It was clear that an entire Battalion or even a Brigade level element was on the move, but  DuPont didn¡¯t know what they were on the move for. It didn¡¯t look like they were off to conduct another training exercise¡­. They were far too armed for that.


    Were they tasked with a mission?


    ¡­


    Regardless of what the 101st would do, they were just another reminder that DuPont was still here, dealing with the build-up and anxiety of not knowing how or when they would launch their own operation.


    He swallowed hard before taking some of his day''s only good thing. The waiting was the worst part of it all. Every day felt like being stuck in limbo, caught between the anticipation of action and the dread of the unknown. DuPont just wished they''d at least get some information about when or how they¡¯ll move out. At least then, he¡¯d know every seemingly asinine task he and his men were made to do wasn¡¯t pointless.


    But he also knew there was absolutely no way he¡¯d get that piece of information until it was time to move.


    DuPont took another bite of his burrito, chewing mechanically as he watched the last of the helicopters disappear into the distance. He couldn''t help but feel a twinge of envy. Those men were doing something other than running around like chickens with their heads cut off, moving tanks, IFVs, or god knows whatever the hell else.


    ¡°Mmm¡­ Divine¡­," he muttered a word of praise for this food as the last of the engineering vehicles rumbled past.


    Finally able to cross the street, DuPont heaved a heavy breath through his mouth, causing his lips to rattle in exasperation. He couldn¡¯t help but say thanks to any holy powers that may exist for allowing him to move again. Today was going to be another busy day of moving, with the company and its equipment moving t-air motor pool and throwing more weird tarps over them.


    As he made his way across the street towards his barracks, the sky was once again full of aircraft, and the roar of jet engines echoed overhead. The sound was as mundane as a sedan down a suburban road, but this time, the noise was far greater than normal. DuPont looked up and was taken aback by what he saw. His eyes widened to see the sheer number of planes streaking across the sky toward the rift.


    There usually was, at most, a flight or two lurking overhead. But what DuPont saw was a lot more than one or two flights. There had to be at least two squadrons, more than 30 aircraft dipping low to enter the rift. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Most of the aircraft were chock full of air-to-air missiles, but a good number of the trailing jets had nearly every pylon loaded with a Joint Direct Attack Munition or JDAM. The sight made his heart flutter. He knew this was likely the most significant sign yet that they were on the precipice of something massive.


    "Oh, it¡¯s on¡­" DuPont muttered, watching as another wave of similarly equipped aircraft roared overhead towards the strange creeping night of the rift.


    DuPont''s feet started moving before his brain fully registered the decision. He was running across the street, his half-eaten burrito forgotten and discarded. As he sprinted, he noticed he wasn''t alone. Other soldiers had the same aide and were bolting to their own barracks.


    Once inside, DuPont found his soldiers lazing about, playing video games, or joking around. No one seemed to care about anything other than complaining about having to move their vehicles again.


    "Listen up!" The Lieutenant barked as his voice carried across the room. "I want full gear checks in the next hour. Every piece of equipment, every round of ammo. If it''s not working, I want to know about it now."


    Everyone in the recreation room snapped their heads to Lieutenant DuPont as he continued shouting orders. "I want everyone prepared for a full deployment yesterday!¡± He continued, gesturing with his whole hand in a karate chop to drive each point home. ¡°That means go-bags, personal affairs, or whatever the fuck, to be done within the day! If you need something at the PX, you go NOW and buy in bulk!"


    One of the younger soldiers piped up, ¡°D-Did we receive orders, sir?"


    DuPont''s eyes locked onto the young soldier. "Not yet," he replied excitedly, "but it''s coming, and it''s coming fast."


    He then turned to Hofmann, the platoon sergeant, with an intense gaze. "Hofmann," he spoke in a tone that left no room fro argument, "get the boys together and hit the PX. Hell, hit any store you can find. I want you to grab anything and everything that could be useful."


    DuPont''s hand moved to his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Toilet paper, jerky, batteries - fucking everything," he continued, gesturing wildly as he handed his wallet to Hofmann. "Clean out the store if you have to. We don''t know when we''ll get another chance to resupply once we''re on the other side."


    Hofmann nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Yes, sir," he replied, taking the wallet. "We''ll get it done."


    DuPont then turned back to the rest of the platoon. "The rest of you, I want every vehicle and every piece of kit checked and double-checked. If somethings missing, I want to know about it. If something''s broken, I want to know about it. If something even looks a little worn, I want to fuckin¡¯ know abaout it!"


    ¡°Now go!¡± He finished clapping his hands, causing  the barracks erupted into a flurry of activity. Soldiers rushed out of the recreation room while Hofmann, the platoon sergeant, quickly gathered the other NCOs.


    "Alright, listen up," Hofmann barked. "Takashi, take your squad and hit the PX. Rivera, your guys take the commissary. Matthews hit any off-base stores you can find. Buy out their stock if you have to. We need everything - food, hygiene products, batteries, the works. Move!"


    ***


    Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., Defense Secretary Mark Leigh sat in the Pentagon''s highly secure National Military Command Center (NMCC). The room hummed with tension as officers mumbled, staring at the screens on the walls displaying real-time satellite imagery. Everything from troop movements to intelligence reports from across the globe were plastered on every digital display.


    Each one told a story of escalating global tensions as the Defense Secretary¡¯s eyes darted between the screens. "Give me the latest," he spoke in a calm and measured tone even though he was wracked with stress.


    The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs spun in his chair and faced Leigh. "Sir, The Russians have adopted an overtly aggressive posture in Eastern Europe.¡± He explained, tapping at the desk. ¡°They''ve placed three of their mobilized armored divisions along their western border. NATO''s responding, but the Baltics are on edge."


    Leigh nodded grimly. "And China?"


    The Director of National Intelligence took over. "It''s bad, Mr. Secretary. The PLAN has dramatically increased its presence in the South China Sea. We''re not only seeing unprecedented naval exercises near Taiwan, but they¡¯ve replaced their Coast Guard assets that were harassing the Philippines at the Spratly Islands with heavily armed Naval vessels.¡±


    ¡°Our analysts believe they''re not just flexing but preparing for potential action." Another general added that he sat beside the Chairman.


    Mark Leigh went quiet as his brow furrowed in deep thought. They had anticipated this reaction, but the reality of it was still sobering.


    After a moment, he turned to the Secretary of State, who had just joined the meeting via a secure video link. "What''s the diplomatic situation, Madam Secretary?" Leigh asked, rubbing the creased wrinkles on his forehead


    The Secretary of State, Tessa Hammond, wore a grim look as she stared at her peers on the screen. "It''s a shit storm, Mark.¡± She said tersely as she leaned back with her arms folded. ¡°We''re being pressured from all sides. Russia and China are leading the charge and demanding UN oversight of the rift. They''re painting us as neo-imperialists and warmongers that are destabilizing global security."


    She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But it''s not just our adversaries. India and Brazil are also pushing for multilateral control. And even though they¡¯re participating in the Multinational division, France, Turkey, and a few others in NATO are calling for more transparency and shared access."


    Leigh let out a humorless chuckle. "France, huh? What, Africa''s not enough for them anymore?" He shook his head with a look of frustration on his face. "Turkey, I get. They''ve always had their eyes on expanding influence. But what''s the State Department¡¯s response been?"


    Hammond sighed. "We''re using every diplomatic tool in our arsenal.¡± She said, running a hand through her hair. ¡°We''re emphasizing the unprecedented nature of the situation and the need for careful, controlled exploration. We¡¯ve also been playing up the potential dangers of unrestricted access and positioning ourselves as the responsible custodian, but..." She hesitated for a moment as she thought about what she would say next.


    "Russia and China are pushing hard for a Security Council resolution demanding international oversight.¡± She said tentatively. ¡°We''ve vetoed it, of course, but they''re not backing down. They''re now trying to take it to the General Assembly for a non-binding resolution."


    "Let me guess," Leigh interjected, "they''re framing it as a matter of international peace and security?"


    "Exactly," the Secretary nodded. "And they''re stating this is a threat that threatens the entire globe and are invoking the ''Uniting for Peace'' resolution, trying to bypass our veto. It''s gaining traction, especially among the Non-Aligned Movement countries."


    Leigh''s jaw tightened. "And our allies?"


    The Secretary of State sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mixed bag¡­¡± She nearly groaned as she was reminded of the literal hellstorm she was dealing with. ¡°CANZUK, Japan, Korea, and Poland are standing firm with us, but others are wavering. They''re caught between supporting us and appeasing their own populations and interest."


    "Pretentious son¡¯s of bitches¡­" The Secretary of Defense scoffed. "As if we''d allow open access to goddamn anyone within our own borders."


    The voice of the National Security Advisor chimed in from another screen. "We''re also seeing increased activity in international courts. There''s talk of China and Russia bringing a case to the ICJ to challenge our exclusive control over the rift."


    Leigh leaned back in his chair, his mind racing through the implications. "They know we¡¯d sooner go to war than allow that to happen, so this must be a pretense for a full-on push of a multipolar world order," he mused aloud.


    The National Security Advisor nodded. "That¡¯s what we¡¯re assuming as well, Mark.¡± He said, leaning forward. ¡°They may try to frame it as a necessary counterbalance. The rhetoric coming out of Beijing and Moscow is all about preventing ''American hegemony across two worlds.''"


    "Wel¡­ They¡¯re also not wrong," the Secretary of Defense added. "If we successfully exploit the resources on the other side of the rift, the global power balance will shift dramatically in our favor."


    Leigh suddenly stood up and started pacing around the room. "We can''t back down and we definitely can''t show any sign of compromise.¡± He said more speaking to himself than to anyone else. ¡°If we give an inch on this, they''ll take a mile..."


    After a minute of silence and the Secretary of Defense¡¯s pacing, He finally came to a stop and fraced the group within the NMCC and those teleconferencing in. ¡°I want a heavier presence in the South China Sea and the Baltics. We can¡¯t shy away from confrontation¡±


    Everyon shifted somewhat comfortably at the suggestion, but it was the Secretary of State that spoke up first. "Mark, we need to be careful¡­¡± She said tentatively. ¡°Any aggressive move on our part could spark a wider conflict. We''d be fighting a war on multiple fronts ¨C through the rift and potentially against Russia and China."


    "And if we do nothing?¡± Leigh counter, rubbing the creases of his forehead again. ¡°What happens if we let them chip away at our allies, expand their influence, or maybe even make a move on Taiwan or the Baltics while we''re distracted by the rift?" He shook his head. "No. We can''t let the fear of conflict paralyze us."


    The room fell silent while tension grew and seemed to suffocate everyone in the room.


    After a moment, Leigh spoke again in a low and firm voice. "We need options and not just defensive ones.¡± He said, turning towards the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. ¡°I want to know what pre-emptive strike packages would look like. If they push too far or become too aggressive, I want to know what it would look like to defang them completely within the first few volleys."


    The Chairman visibly stiffened at that suggestion. "Sir, that''s... that''s a significant escalation. We''d be risking¡ª"


    "I know what we''d be risking," Leigh cut him off. "But I need to know our options. All of them.¡± He replied definitely. ¡°If push comes to shove, we need to be prepared to act quickly, and decisively."


    He looked around the room, meeting each person''s eyes. "I''m not saying we''ll do it. But we need to be ready for the worst-case scenario,¡± he said as everyone stared at him as if he had lost his mind. If we hesitate, if we show them they can push us, it would lead to an even-tempered conflict. We could lose everything¡ªnot just our allies and influence, but our position in the world."


    The room was quiet for a moment before the Chairman nodded slowly. "Understood, sir. We''ll prepare a full range of options, including... pre-emptive strike scenarios."


    Leigh nodded, feeling the weight of potential futures pressing down on him. "Good. Get it done. And someone get me a secure line to the President. He needs to be briefed on this immediately."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 101

    Captain Kai "Skunk" Wu sat in the cockpit of his F-16 as his gloved fingers tapped restlessly against the outside of his open canopy. The cool air in the early morning darkness did little to ease his frayed nerves as he beat a smooth rhythmic pattern that betrayed his impatience. Low hums of idling jet engines and the familiar scent of jet fuel filled the air, but tonight, everything felt different.


    As he gazed out over the tarmac, Wu¡¯s eyes were greeted by ground crews hustling between aircraft, shouting orders and signals that were lost to him over the whines of turbines. Not only were there F-16s like his lined up, but he saw F-15cs and even F-35s, all of which were bristling with the new Raytheon Peregrine missiles. The Sleek and deadly hit-to-kill weapons were fresh out of research and development and put into the perfect position to be adopted by the standardized ¡®dragon killers.¡¯


    Measured at approximately 6 feet long, these missiles had the equivalent range of an AIM-120 Advanced Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missile (AMRAAM) that the US Air Force typically fielded and had little effect on their draconic foe. The Peregrine, on the other hand, looked very promising and needed very little modification to house Depleted Uranium penetrators to make them even more lethal against armored targets.


    Wu watched as more conventional fighters idled off to the side, with the machines'' pilots lounging or performing routine checks. Meanwhile, logistics aircraft and the F-35s taxi for their runs to takeoff. It wasn''t the nail in the coffin that Wu would assume was the kick-off to something larger, but it was another point on the graph that made the line longer. Why else would anything and everything with powerful radars take to the skies before all the other, more heavily armed, aircraft?


    He licked his lips and sat back before gazing at the air-control tower. If Wu was honest with himself and didn''t indulge in this schizo behavior, then odds had it that this was another exercise or readiness maneuver. It would have been the fifteenth time they''d been told to scramble, only to idle on the tarmac and be told to spool down and go back to the briefing room. The few times they¡¯d manage to take off and get into formation, their command would always call it off at the last minute and have them turn back.


    It was like a bit of dance they¡¯d perform over and over again. Wu knew why; discerning eyes were waiting and watching what they¡¯d be doing. To what end, however? Well, that was way beyond Wu¡¯s pay grade.


    But something was nagging at him. There was this gnawing sensation in his gut that they were in the precipice, and he simply couldn''t shake it. Sure, he could also say they¡¯d been on the precipice this entire time, but today felt more¡­ real.


    It all started with the briefing room. Their roles were explained in greater detail, with more objectives and specific targets. In comparison, they''d been training for these scenarios in more broad strokes for months, but this night, Wu was given proper areas of responsibility and taskings.


    During the briefing, their objectives were laid out with uncharacteristic specificity. The entire squadron was to perform probing operations and support Wild Weasels in drawing out enemy air assets and getting a good idea of their defense network. It was apparent to Wu that what the briefing outlined wasn¡¯t a full-on air campaign, but it was a step in the direction of one¡ªa calculated move to test the waters and map out unknown threats.


    Wu Adjusted himself in his seat as a wave of jitters flowed through him. They were testing the waters here, and the rough map of their area of responsibility further justified his suspicions. While the heavier hitters would secure a buffer zone around the rift, Wu and the rest of the squadron were pressed further to see how the enemy would react.


    Basically, his job was to kick the hornet''s nest and see what would happen.


    Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive buzzing of propeller blades cutting through the din of jet engines. Snapping his head to the side, Wu''s eyes widened when he saw the hulking figures of C-130 Hercules cargo planes lining up on an adjacent runway, their engines roaring as they prepared for takeoff. Even more shocking were the AC-130 Ghostriders gunships, bristling with weaponry, taxiing up behind their cargo sister planes and preparing for their own sorties.


    Wu watched silently as the hulking AC-130 Ghostriders lumbered down the runway, their propellers chopping through the air with a throaty roar. The gunships seemed almost out of place among the sleek jets, but their presence spoke volumes. He couldn''t tear his eyes away as the sounds of their propellers turned violent, lurching them forward as the behemoths took off.


    Gripping the edge of his canopy, Wu continued to stare as each of the incarnations of death took to the skies. "Pampers, you seeing this?" He keyed his mic over the squadron frequency.


    There was a moment of static-laden silence before Lieutenant Kara ¡®Pampers¡¯ Bell responded. "Yeah¡­ Yeah, I''m seeing it." She responded in an uncharacteristically subdued tone that carried a hint of unease.


    The flight leader glanced over to where her F-16 was parked a few jets down the line. He could imagine her expression mirroring his own¡ªa mix of apprehensive anticipation. "They don¡¯t roll those things out unless something was going down," Wu said as his fingers drummed against the side of his cockpit more intensely.


    "Guess this means we''re really doing it," Pampers replied. There was a slight quiver in her voice that she quickly tried to suppress. "I don¡¯t think this another drill."


    "Yeah," Wu agreed. "I think this is it."


    The other two in Wu¡¯s flight remained uncharacteristically silent as the weight of that conversation seemed to settle. After months of prep and tion and countless briefings, the movement had finally arrived. Even though they wanted nothing more than to deliver sweet and swift vengeance against those who had the gall to invade them, the men of Skunk¡¯s flight were still nervous.


    Silence reigned over the comms as the last of the lumbering cargo planes, and gunships lifted into the sky, their silhouettes shrinking against the horizon. The usual banter and chatter among pilots had faded. They were replaced by collective anticipation. Crossing into an alien world was no longer an absurd abstract concept whispered about in briefing rooms¡ªit was now imminent. They were about to project America''s might through the rift, and every pilot here would be the instrument of their country¡¯s justice.


    But the contemplative quiet was all interrupted by the crackle of the control tower''s frequency coming to life. "Attention all aircraft. Execute, execute, execute. Time now 1630 hours." An authoritative voice echoed in their helmets. ¡°I repeat, All aircraft. Execute, execute, execute.¡±


    Immediately after, the familiar voice of their squadron commander, Colonel William "Roadkill" Reeves, resonated over the squadron channel. "All flights, this is Roadkill. Mission is a go. Commence takeoff sequence per briefed plan."


    Almost in a snap of the fingers, the doubts, anxieties, and unease that had been tingling at the edges of every pilot¡¯s consciousness were washed away and replaced by cool professionalism. Wu himself felt as if he suddenly switched gears. His fingers flew back inside the cockpit, and he deftly moved over switches and controls as he double-checked all his systems.


    The tower''s voice came through again, this time directed towards Wu¡¯s flight. "Skunk 1, Tower. Clear to taxi, runway four."


    Satisfied with his checks, Wu took a deep breath and hit his transmit button. "Tower, Skunk 1. Rolling with two, proceeding to runway four." He replied before signaling to the ground crew to double time.


    The ground hustled around the aircraft to double-check that nothing was out of order while the crew chief rushed to the edge of the taxiway. Once there, he lifted two bright orange wands, and with crisp movements, he guided Wu forward, ensuring clearance from nearby aircraft and equipment. The marshaller''s gestures were sharp and unmistakable¡ªeven in the early 0300 darkness.


    Wu''s marshaller stood in front of his jet with two orange wands, guiding his pilot as they began to Taxi. Wu followed the marshaller around other aircraft and obstructions as he eased the throttle forward. But eventually, the marshaller came to a halt, snapped his heels together, and offered a crisp, sharp salute the moment the aircraft hit the taxiway.


    The Captain returned the gesture and continued toward the hold short line as the canopy lowered over him. A hydraulic hiss resounded, sealing him inside the cockpit, muffling the external noises, and cocooning him as Wu worked his instruments and displays.


    As he approached the hold short line, Wu noticed that a pair of F-15EXs on full burner on Runway 4 and gently lifted into the air as Wu brought his F-16 to a stop. Glancing over to his right, Wu watched as Bell pulled up alongside him, giving him a thumbs-up as her own canopy was sealed shut.


    ¡°You ready to hurry up and wait?¡± Wu¡¯s headset echoed with a bell voice, causing him to chuckle and place a hand over his lowered visor.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Nothing in the world could describe the military as a whole more than ¡®hurry up and wait.¡¯ It was as much of a prophecy as it was a curse. No matter what branch you were in, you were destined to spend hours upon hours of mind-numbing boredom before you experienced the nerve-shattering horror that was combat.


    ¡°I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯ll ever be, I guess.¡± Wu continued to laugh as he responded. ¡°Hell, maybe they¡¯ll get cold feet again and tell us to RTB for the millionth time.¡±


    He joked, but Wu and Bell both knew that command had a habit of running drills in the guise of missions or just outright aborting them. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as Wu looked around, he could see the sheer amount of assets being put in play for it to be just a simple drill. Perhaps it would be another aborted op, but¡­.


    For a moment, Wu¡¯s eyes glazed over as he thought about those AC-130s one more time, but the tower kicked him back to reality. "Skunk 1, Tower," the radio crackled to life. "You are cleared for takeoff, runway four. Push to ten thousand."


    Wu keyed his mic and repeated the order: "Skunk 1 cleared for takeoff; push to ten thousand."


    Without saying another word, Wu and Bell threw their throttles forward, running their engines up and causing the F-16s to lurch forward. Wu''s eyes tracked the speed on his HUD as his jet began to accelerate down the runway. "Passing one-fifty knots," Wu radioed to Bell. "Rotate."


    They both pulled gently on their sticks, causing the noses of their aircraft to lift simultaneously. The two F-16s soared into the sky in perfect unison, executing a flawless dual takeoff. As they climbed, the ground fell away beneath them, and the sky expanded, the horizon stretching wide as they ascended toward the setting sun.


    "Positive rate, gear up," Wu called out, retracting his landing gear.


    "Gear up," Bell echoed.


    They continued their ascent, the engines humming steadily. The control tower''s voice came through their headsets one final time. "Skunk One and Two, switch to Departure on channel five."


    "Switching to channel five," Wu acknowledged, adjusting his radio frequency. "Departure, Skunk One and Two climbing through three thousand for ten thousand."


    "Skunk One and Two, Departure. Radar contact confirmed," the controller responded. "I am relinquishing control to Overlord. Godspeed."


    "Roger that, tower. See you on the flip side." Wu responded before glancing over at Bell''s jet, which was flying smoothly beside him.


    A few moments later, the familiar voice of the AWACS controller, call sign Overlord, crackled through their headsets. "Skunk One and Two, this is Overlord. We have you on our radar. Climb and maintain angels twenty and proceed to waypoint alpha."


    "Overlord, Skunk One copies all," Wu replied before pulling gently on his stick, causing his F-16 to pierce through a thin layer of clouds. "Climbing to angels twenty."


    As Wu and Bell continued their ascent, their engines'' roar settled into a steady hum. The two pilots silently climbed into the canvas of ethereal darkness that was the early morning sky, completely lost in their own thoughts. Almost simultaneously, they looked to see the stars peppered all around them and the full moon that floated above, watching them almost judgingly.


    But their thoughts were suddenly interrupted when two more F-16s appeared off their wingtips. Lieutenants Mark ¡®Pockets¡¯ Evans and Ian ¡®Crash¡¯ Mitchell finally joined the formation as Skunk Three and Four.


    "Thought you two could use some company," Pocket¡¯s voice crackled over the comms.


    "Bought goddamn time." Wu replied with a smirk. ¡°Fall asleep at the wheel again, Crash?¡±


    "HEY! I passed out from G-forces, okay?" Crash shot back in almost a whine. "At least I didn¡¯t shit my pants like Pampers here!."


    "Well, don¡¯t get too confident there crash," Bell teased. "You might lose Uncle Sam another 100 million dollar piece of equipment."


    As the four F-16s leveled off at 20,000 feet, Wu took a moment to survey the skies, taking in all the identifying friend or foe pings that his helmet¡¯s datalinked HUD pinged. The sheer number of airborne aircraft would have made him fall out of his chair if he wasn¡¯t strapped down to it. Everywhere he looked were strobe lights and green boxes his system marked as friendly.


    "Would you look at that," Bell murmured as she watched all the fighters, bombers, and support aircraft take up their own holding formations. "I''ve never seen so shit in the air at once."


    "Feels like we''re part of D-day or something," Pockets added.


    Wu glanced down at the battle management system on his multifunction display. "AWACs and ATC must be losing their minds managing all this traffic," Wu commented as more IFF pings lit up his screen like digital constellations.


    "Can you imagine trying to keep track of all this shit?" Pocket replied, looking around, seeing pings of F-35¡¯s B-1 Lancers, F-15EXs, and more F-16s. "I''d need about ten more screens and a caffeine drip feed."


    As the quartet of F-16s settled into their holding pattern around the rift, the tension eased enough for the familiar banter to resume. The pilots maintained a loose circular formation, their jets carving arcs against the star-studded canvas of the night sky.


    "Hey Crash," Bell''s voice crackled over the comms, mischief evident. "Heard you almost took out a runway light on your last landing. You practicing for a new career in demolition?"


    Crash groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on! That was one time, and the tower gave me clearance late."


    Pockets chimed in with a chuckle. "Sure, blame it on the tower. Next, you''ll say the runway moved."


    "Maybe it did," Crash shot back. "You know these budget cuts¡ªthey can''t even keep the pavement in one place."


    The night stretched on as the quartet of F-16s settled into their holding pattern around the rift. While they waited for more orders, the tension started to ease just enough for the familiar banter the flight usually indulged in to resume. The pilots maintained a loose wedge formation as their jets carved their way to the star-studded night sky.


    "Hey Crash," Bell''s voice crackled over the comms, mischief evident. "Still having trouble telling up from down?"


    "Having a problem figuring out what a flight seat and a toilet is?" Crash retorted. "Didn''t realize barrel rolls were supposed to make you piss your pants."


    "Ouch," Pockets chimed in. "Score one for Crash."


    "Careful, Pockets," Bell shot back. "Keep talking, and you''ll find your pockets empty again next poker night."


    "Promises, promises," Pockets laughed.


    They continued their circuit, continuing their banter as the mile-wide and long rift below blasted the area with its soft orange sunlight. It was a surreal sight to see a star of another world slowly set over the horizon, blasting their world with gentle orange light that blasted away a good portion of the night sky''s darkness.


    It didn¡¯t take long for a comfortable silence to settle over them as each pilot gawked at the rift. The sounds that could be heard now were the frequent orders from their squadron commander and the commands of AWACs through the net as their engines hummed in the background.


    But soon, another voice jogged them from their reverie as a KC-135 Stratotanker came over the net. "Skunk, this is Texaco," a new voice broke through the comms. "Proceed to waypoint Charlie for refueling."


    Wu¡¯s eyes went to his battle management system and tapped at the touch screen before replying back. "Copy that, Texaco," he responded before returning to his flight¡¯s frequency. "Alright, children of the corn, let''s line up for a drink."


    As the formation of four F-16s headed to rendezvous with the orbiting Boomer, the massive aerial refueling platform came into view. After running through one more series of pre-contact checklists, Wu eased into the pre-contact position, guided by the tanker''s director lights, before maneuvering into place for refueling.


    One by one, each fighter connected with the KC-135''s boom with a resonating and familiar ''clunk'' of a successful link-up. For several minutes each, the Vipers remained locked to the tanker, at 20,000 feet, taking turns chatting with the boom operators about their days. Sometimes the conversations took a more heretical turn as a few conversations turned into heated debate about the merits of pineapple on pizza with the surprisingly opinionated boom operator.


    Meanwhile, Bell couldn''t stop laughing as she tried to explain the plot of her favorite K-Drama to the bewildered tanker crew. As Pocket connected, he challenged the boom operator to a high-stakes game of ¡®I Spy,¡¯ limited to the cramped confines of their respective cockpits. By the time the last Viper disconnected, Overlord''s voice broke through their headsets as if they were the ones everyone had been waiting on.


    "Skunk 1, this is Overlord. Turn heading three-niner-zero and proceed to waypoint Romeo. Descend to angels three." The AWACs operator ordered.


    A deep silence fell over the flight of F-16s as they sat there, somewhat confused. "Overlord, Skunk 1 copies," Wu finally responded after a few seconds of being stunned. "Turning to heading three-niner-zero, proceeding to waypoint..." The Captain hesitated for a moment. "Proceeding to waypoint Romeo, descending to angels three."


    Following their flight leader, the formation pushed their noses down and descended toward 3,000 feet as instructed. The colossal wormhole ahead loomed larger with every passing second¡ªa perfect sphere that distorted the very fabric of reality in the night sky of Ohio.


    "Are we¡­ Are we really doing this?" Awe was evident in Bell¡¯s voice as it came in barely above a whisper.


    Wu''s eyes were wide as dinner plates behind his visor. It was one thing to suspect something big was going to happen, but it was another thing entirely to become completely vindicated of his suspicions. It was actually happening. They were really going to pull the trigger and set them loose on the other side.


    "Looks like this is it, guys¡­" Wu replied, his eyes fixed on the anomaly ahead. We¡¯re going through to the other side.¡± The captain gripped his stick tight as his eyes ran over the setting sun, which was split by the landscape''s towering mountains in the distance.


    Almost at the same time, aircraft all around them were reacting in their own way. Some converged with Skunk''s formation of F-16s down at 3000 feet toward the wormhole. Others took up holding positions high above to wait their turn. Fighter¡¯s. bombers, cargo planes¡­ everyone moved in such synchronized coordination that it almost looked like a choreographed dance.


    "All units, this is Roadkill. Operation Basilisk is now in effect.¡± The radio crackled to life with the voice of their squadron commander. ¡°I repeat, Operation Basilisk is in effect. Proceed to pre-planned routes."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 102

    The peaceful pre-dawn silence of Fort Gideon was shattered as Sergeant First Class Hofmann and 1st Lieutenant DuPont stormed through the corridors of their barracks. Their boots echoed loudly against the floor as they hastily threw on their uniforms in response to an urgent early morning call.


    Hofmann was the first to hit the dorm room door as he barged in with a thunderous crash. "Get up!" he roared as he repeatedly slammed his fist against the wall. The sound reverberated through the room like gunfire as he kept banging his hand on the wall until the men in their bunks shot up. "Get the fuck up and get your kit on!"


    Across the hall, DuPont mirrored his actions as he threw open the opposite door and barged in. "On your feet! We got shit to do!"


    More of the platoon''s senior Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs) marched down the hallway, each taking a room and adding to the cacophony of shouts and banging. The once-quiet barracks erupted into a frenzy of activity as every floor of the building became the personification of chaos.


    Confused and groggy soldiers stumbled out of their bunks with the fog of sleep still clinging to their minds. But even in their half-awake state, muscle memory kicked in. Hands fumbled for uniforms, feet slipped to boots, and laces were tied almost on autopilot.


    "Move it, move it! Full battle rattle in five minutes!" Hofmann''s voice boomed down the corridor.


    DuPont clapped his hands together loudly as he entered another room as the sharp sound cut through the growing din. "I want to see you at your vehicles in ten! Wake up, people!"


    Sergeant Kim and Corporal Santiago were already rolling out of bed when Hofmann stormed into their room next. When he came in, their vehicle commander only gave them a quick look and a nod of approval. It was apparent they had heard the commotion and were stumbling around in a frantic attempt to get dressed.


    "Jesus Christ¡­" Kim muttered, fumbling with his boots as Santiago wrestled with his pants.


    Once sufficiently dressed, Kim stumbled out into the hallway while still trying to lace up his boots. Santiago, on the other hand, was close behind, trying to tuck his shirt into his pants and half-tripping on his unlaced boots.


    As they emerged into the corridor, they spotted their Lieutenant marching out of another dorm room and marching towards another.


    "What''s going on, LT?" Kim called out in a voice that was still rough from sleep.


    DuPont didn''t break his stride as he moved towards the next door. Before he opened it, the Lieutenant glanced over his shoulder at his subordinates and shook his head. He stood there momentarily thinking about the call he had received from the company commander, before his expression hardened.


    Kim was taken aback by the look on his superior''s face. It was the most honest and nervous expression Kim had ever seen on the usually composed officer.


    "I don''t know¡­ Just get to your vehicles and get your shit up and running," Dupont replied tersely with a voice tight with tension. "I think it¡¯s go time.."


    The admission of ignorance from their lieutenant sent a chill down Kim''s spine. He and Santiago shared a quick, worried glance before picking up their pace.


    "You heard him," Kim whispered harshly to Santiago. ¡°Let''s move."


    As they rushed down the corridor, Santiago and Kim found themselves dodging other soldiers in various states of dress. Seeing so many people coming out simultaneously and the flustered looks of officers and NCOs really caused the reality of the situation to sink in. This wasn''t a drill. This was something big, something real, and it was happening now.


    The two soldiers, along with their comrades, burst out of the barracks into the cool pre-dawn air of Fort Gideon. They sprinted across the quad and common areas, confusing or spooking the few remaining NATO partners awake and lingering outside. However, it didn¡¯t take long until the soldiers of the 1st Calvary reached the motor pool, a large, fenced-in area not far from their dorms that housed their heavily armored vehicles.


    When they finally entered the sector holding their Bradley, Kim heard the distinctive whine of an M1A2 Abrams spooling up nearby. The tank''s commander was hanging out of the hatch, frothing at the mouth as he pointed toward one of his soldiers.


    "Peters! Where¡¯s your goddamn helmet!?" the commander bellowed at a flustered-looking soldier scrambling towards the tank.


    Just a few vehicles down, another Abrams commander clapped his hands together as he marched toward his tank. "FIRE IT UP!" he yelled at his tankers that were already inside with a voice filled with urgency and excitement.


    Santiago slipped into the driver''s compartment of their M2A3 Bradley and adjusted himself as he tightened the straps of his tanker¡¯s helmet. Once he was situated and his hand was free, his fingers flowed over the controls as he flipped switches and pressed buttons, as he was trained to do, and brought the powerful engine to life. The vehicle rumbled and shook as it awakened, sending familiar vibrations throughout the hull.


    "Engine''s lookin¡¯ pretty," Santiago called out, his eyes scanning the gauges and readouts in front of him.


    Above them, they could hear Hofmann''s sharp and authoritative voice bellow out as he stood he stood atop the Bradley yelling at people. "Hastings! Make sure you do a weapons check! I don¡¯t want your gun to shit itself again, especially when things go hot!" He shouted over the din of engines and bustling soldiers.


    Not second later, Hofmann jumped into the commander''s seat and settled into the familiar confines of the Bradley''s interior. For a moment, he just sat there, taking in the controlled chaos around him. Then, with a deep breath, he smacked his helmet, as if trying to psych himself up for what was to come.


    "I think this is it, boys." Hofmann spoke up over the Bradley¡¯s local network.


    Kim looked over at his commander with a difficult expression on his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn''t come. What could he say in a moment like this?


    Sensing the tension, Hofmann fist tightened as he tried to process what was happening himself. "Look," he said, addressing both Kim and Santiago. "We all know what to do. We¡¯ve been training for this for over half a year now.¡± He looked at Kim dead in the eye before he panned to his commander¡¯s screen. ¡°We all knew this day was eventually going to coming, and it looks like it looks like it chose to happen right-fuckin¡¯-now."


    He paused, letting his words sink in. "Just kill whatever''s waiting for us on the other side of that rift,  and we¡¯re good.¡± He smacked his a few times for his own motivation.


    Kim nodded as he turned back to his own screen. "Roger that, Sarn¡¯t," he replied in a steady voice while shifting a more comfortable position.


    "Can I take home an alien as a trophy?" Santiago chimed in from the driver''s compartment, his hands firm on the controls.


    A collective groan echoed through the Bradley''s interior. Kim sighed and said, "Shut the fuck up, Santiago..." Santiago always had a way of diffusing tension in any situation, a trait not lost on the crew as they waited their turn to leave the motor pool. ¡°Jesus¡­ Always gotta say something goofy.¡±


    "Alright. Driver, move out," Hofmann ordered as their Bradley finally got the green light to exit the motor pool.


    The Bradley''s engine rumbled to life as Santiago eased the massive vehicle forward. Soldiers scrambled to get out of the way, trying to get their bearings in the chaotic mess they found themselves in. Behind Hofmann and his crew¡¯s vehicle were their platoon¡¯s sister Bradleys, falling in line behind them.


    Following an entire convoy of Abrams tanks, Hofmann and his crew found themselves finally outside of their motor pool and in a convoy heading directly for the fort''s exit. The whine of the tanks'' turbine engines grew in pitch as they started to accelerate. A symphony of raw power and military precision echoed in the early morning as they all powered to their predesignated staging areas.


    Everyone already knew where they needed to go and what they needed to do. A strategy had already been established, and each unit had been drilled relentlessly in preparation for crossing the rift. It was only a matter of time until Brass pulled the trigger.


    Now, they were off to give their uninvited guests a rebuttal for their unwanted intrusion.


    A rebuttal in the form of steel and fire.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    After a few minutes of following the main convoy, Hofmann''s voice crackled over the intercom. "Alright, Santiago, we''re breaking off here. Take a left at the next junction."


    The Bradley peeled away from the line of Abrams, turning onto a smaller road leading toward the infantry''s designated pickup point. As they neared what looked to Hofmann like the armory, he climbed up the turret until he was standing and popped out of his commander''s hatch.


    "There they are," Hofmann called down to Kim and Santiago on the radio. "Looks like they''re still getting their shit together. Pull up over in about 30 meters or so."


    Santiago maneuvered the Bradley off the street and beside the soldiers, causing the tracks to crunch over loose gravel. As they came to a stop, Hofmann could see Dupont gesturing aggressively to the soldiers, trying to get them to speed up.


    "Jesus Christ," Hofmann muttered as he scanned the area to see a veritable horde of infantry in a similar state. Some were piling into Bradley¡¯s, trying to squeeze in with their equipment, and others were trying to cram as much crap into the back of Humvees as they could.


    "We''re ready to load up whenever you are, sir." Hofmann looked over to the side of his Bradley at his approaching platoon leader.


    DuPont nodded acknowledgment. "Roger that, Sergeant. Give us two mikes.¡± He said before turning around at a pair of his men trying their damnedest to get a sleeping back into place. ¡°I think we''re just about set."


    Hofmann watched as their assigned infantry rushed to finish their preparations. They racked weapons, checked ammo, slung heavy rucks onto their backs, and felt for their individual first aid kits (IFAKS) one last time. It was obvious that whatever was coming next frazzled their nerves. Every single one of the soldiers found themselves checking and then double checking every little thing.


    But it wasn¡¯t muc h longer until DuPont and his men finally approached the M2A3 Bradley with their rucks. "Hey LT, you got any idea what we''re doing yet?"  Hofmann called out from his position in the hatch.


    Dropping his ruck with a heavy thud, DuPont looked up at Hofmann and let out a deep breath as his eyes momentarily went wide after thinking it all over again. "Yeah¡­ Sorta.¡± He said unassuredly, glancing around. ¡°From what I can gather from the Major, we''re hitting them hard and fast in order to set a perimeter for Army Corps of Engineers and the Seabees. It''s a shaping operation, but I think this is the real deal."


    Hofmann interest were piqued at that. He wasn¡¯t much of a strategist, but he assumed that they¡¯d be running the gauntlet deep into enemy territory, not baby sitting engineers.


    "Really now? What are they up to?" He responded as soldiers waddled over to the Bradley and up the ramp.


    With a quick look around to see if any other officers were in earshot, DuPont lowered his voice a little, but he still found himself shouting over the sound of the Bradleys motor.. "I think they''re going to start building logistics points on the other side.¡± He said, lifting his ruck sack over his shoulder again. ¡°1st Infantry is already moving into the rift, maneuvering and seeing if they can draw any of those fantasy fucks out. Us on the other hand¡­"


    "We¡¯re the sledge hammer." Hofmann muttered as the weight of the mission finally settled in the pits of his stomach. "So we''re not just poking the bear, we''re ramming straight through its den and setting up shop."


    DuPont nodded grimly. "That''s about the size of it."


    Around them, the organized chaos continued. Soldiers were cramming into Bradleys and Humvees, gear was being double-checked, and last-minute orders were being shouted across the assembly area.


    "Shit, you hear that, boys?" One of DuPont¡¯s soldiers spoke up as he hobbled over with his rucksack towards the lowered ramp of the Bradley. "Looks like we''re invading the fucking shire!"


    As the soldier approached with his gear, he called out jokingly, "Hey Sarge, you think I''ll get to shoot a hobbit?"


    A chorus of chuckles erupted from the nearby soldiers. "Nah, man," The sergeant responded as he hefted his ruck. "We''re going after Sauron''s ass."


    A chuckle left DuPont¡¯s mouth as he shook his head. ¡°Ya, Ya. Really goddamn cute.¡± He said, clapping his hands again to spur his platoon into action. ¡°Hurry the hell up. You can continue the chatter after we mount up!¡±


    As the last of the squad shuffled into the troop compartment, DuPont squeezing in with his men inside of Hofmann¡¯s Bradley. As the ramp slowly raised, sealing them inside with a metallic clang, the armored vehicle lurched forward as it followed after the rest of the company.


    Hofmann couldn¡¯t help but audibly gasp as they passed one of the many tarmacs that held a literal horde of specialized MH-60K Blackhawks and MH-6 Little Birds spooling with their crews doing last-minute checks. Not too far away from the helicopters were the soldiers of the 75th Ranger Regiment performing their own preparations for whatever operation they were going to conduct.


    "Looks like every-goddamn-body came out to play.¡± Hofmann keyed his crew-wide intercom. ¡°The whole damn army is on the move." He continued, looking around and seeing that the entire base had come to life.


    A sea of lightly and heavily armored vehicles rumbled to life, speeding to their preassigned staging areas in order to hurry up and wait. While nearing their destination, Hofmann could not help but wonder if this was just another surprise exercise or readiness check. The thought nagged at him, even as the sheer scale of the operation suggested otherwise.


    With the staging area coming into view, Hofmann caught sight of a sprawling expanse of organized chaos as his Bradley came to a gentle stop in their designated spot in the staging area. The vehicle''s powerful engine idled, a low rumble that blended with the cacophony of sounds around them.


    The staging area was a hive of activity, serving as a focal point for force accumulation. It was clear they wouldn''t be moving out immediately; this was a place to gather, organize, and prepare for the massive operation ahead.


    All around them, similar scenes played out. Bradleys and other armored vehicles were arranged in neat rows, their crews performing last-minute checks or simply waiting for orders. Hofmann could see soldiers from other units milling about, some stretching their legs, others huddled in small groups, talking in low voices.


    Fuel trucks moved methodically between the vehicles, topping off tanks to ensure every vehicle was at maximum capacity. Ammunition carriers stood by, ready to distribute additional rounds if needed. The air was thick with the smell of diesel and gun oil.


    Near the center of the staging area, a collection of command vehicles had set up a mobile headquarters. Officers moved between these vehicles, carrying maps and tablets, coordinating the intricate dance of units and assets that would soon be unleashed.


    In the distance, Hofmann could see more vehicles arriving - a seemingly endless stream of military might pouring into the area. Heavy transport trucks carried everything from spare parts to field kitchens, emphasizing the scale and duration of the operation they were about to undertake.


    As Hofmann scanned the area, he noticed something that drove home the reality of their situation. Mixed in with the standard military vehicles were unfamiliar shapes - equipment he''d never seen before, likely developed specifically for whatever they might encounter on the other side of the rift.


    Suddenly, the rear of the Bradley lowered with a hydraulic hiss, and DuPont began squeezing past his men to get out. A chorus of disgruntled "heys" and complaints followed him as he jostled through the cramped space, but he paid them no mind. Stepping down the ramp, he paused, his eyes drawn upward to the sky.


    The air above was alive with aircraft. F-35 Lightning IIs streaked overhead, their sleek profiles barely visible as they climbed higher. They were quickly followed by F-16¡¯s Fight Falcons and F-15E Strike Eagles, so heavily laden with air-to-air and air-to-ground ordnance that it made DuPont''s head spin. The sheer volume of air assets in play sent a deep sense of unease through him.


    Hofmann''s voice cut through DuPont''s thoughts. "I don''t think this is an exercise or readiness check, sir," he said, his tone completely convinced.


    DuPont didn''t even look at him, his eyes fixed on the sky as he caught sight of B-1 Lancers joining the aerial armada. Every aircraft was dipping low, clearly intending to enter the rift. "No..." he replied quietly, "no, I don''t think so either."


    He turned to Hofmann, trying to find the right words as the soldiers inside the Bradley, overhearing the conversation, began to speak amongst themselves. Their voices joined the growing buzz of chatter spreading across the entire staging area. Some voices were tinged with worry, others with excitement.


    "This is it, isn''t it?" DuPont finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "We''re really doing this. We''re invading another world."


    Hofmann nodded, his expression grim but resolute. "As per the mission parameters, we''re forming a ''beachhead,'' not invading," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. His voice carried a hint of irony, acknowledging the thin line between their official mission and the reality of what they were about to do.


    Suddenly, a distant thump caught Hofmann''s attention. He turned his head, gawking at the horizon where he saw the 160th SOAR''s MH-60K Black Hawks he had driven past earlier. The specialized helicopters were now flying towards the rift in the distance, their sleek profiles barely visible against the sky.


    Turning back to DuPont, Hofmann continued, "It was only a matter of when, sir. We¡¯ve been rehearsing and training for this exact mission for months. We know where to go and what to do with every route like the back of our hands.¡± He said trying to seem as if his nerves wasn¡¯t starting to get to him. ¡°The only thing Brass didn¡¯t do, was tell us when it was going to go down."


    DuPont nodded slowly as he came to terms with reality. "That¡¯s true," he mused while his eyes still followed the path of the helicopters. ¡°At least we¡¯re not going in deaf, dumb, blind and without a clue.¡±


    As DuPont finished speaking, a sudden crackle of static filled the air. Every radio in the vicinity came to life simultaneously, causing soldiers to pause and listen. The familiar voice of their battalion commander, Colonel Hawkins, known by his call sign "Saber 6," cut through the static.


    "All units, this is Saber 6 actual."


    There was a brief pause as every soldier in every vehicle tensed in anticipation. A call from the battalion commander over the net could mean only one thing.


    This was it.


    "We are go for Operation Basilisk . I say again, we are go for Operation Basilisk." The colonel''s voice returned with its steady southern drawl.


    DuPont and Hofmann exchanged a knowing glance.


    "You all know your mission. You know what needs to be done. The 1st Infantry has crossed and engaged the enemy. Now it''s our turn."


    There was another brief pause before the colonel outlined their role.


    "We''re the sledgehammer, people. Our job is to punch through their lines, create chaos, and keep pushing. Never stop, Never hesitate. We''re going in hard and fast, creating openings for our follow-on forces. Break their lines, disrupt their command, and don''t give them time to regroup."


    The colonel''s voice grew even more stern, emphasizing the gravity of their task.


    "Remember your training. Trust your equipment and trust each other. We''re making history today by showing these goddamn lizards who the just fucked with. Saber 6 out."

 Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Cloaks and Daggers Ch. 103

    "Reaper 2-1, this is Goliath. I need offensive sensors on ISR number two in the 2000 series confirming hostile thermal contacts."


    Goliath, the battalion''s Command and Control (C2) directed an aerial reconnaissance asset¡ªReaper 2-1¡ªto focus its sensors offensively on a preplanned target as units made their way to their objective. The radio, in general, was an absolute flurry of status reports, commands, and acknowledgments that showcased how well-prepared and well-planned the opening phase of the operation was.


    Regardless of how composed the soldiers of the 1st Battalion, 9th Regiment¡ªThe Head Hunters¡ªwere, nerves started to fray inside their heavily armored vehicles. Sure, a good number of the men present had already gone through large-scale Combat Operations (LSCO) when the rift first opened up, but they were on unfamiliar ground in an unfamiliar world.


    DuPont constantly checked his End User Device (EUD) as he listened to the chatter start to overlap. Some voices were calm and steady, and others were laced with an edge that only came with close combat. As DuPont manipulated the map of the battlespace that was displayed on the rugged smartphone attached to his chest, he took note of all the Icons that littered the screen. They weren¡¯t quite accurate due to the lack of a constellation of communication satellites, but they showed friendly units, enemy contacts, and waypoints accurate enough to make it all usable. Each digital marker was annotated with ISR numbers, ranging from the 20 series up through the 7000 series, representing different priority levels and types of objectives.


    When DuPont adjusted the view to show the brigade-wide objectives, the sheer volume of data was almost overwhelming. There were so many moving parts and so many units operating simultaneously that it basically numbed DuPont''s mind before he zoomed back in to focus on his battalion''s Area of Responsibility (AOR).


    "Goliath, Reaper 2-1," the drone operator''s voice resounded over the net. ¡°Multiple thermal contacts were confirmed along series 2000, 3000, and 4000. Break. ISR grids three and five are clear. Over."


    "Goliath copies all," C2 acknowledged.


    After a brief pause, Goliath''s voice came back over the radio and said something that caused DuPont¡¯s ears to perk up. "Charlie 6, any last slant?" C2 asked DuPont¡¯s sister company.


    In military terms, a ¡®slant¡¯ was a quick situation report summarizing enemy and friendly forces, essential activities, and other critical information. The call for a slant caused DuPont¡¯s grip to tighten around the stock of his rifle as the reality of their situation was driven home. This was the real deal.


    Inside the cramped confines of the Bradley, DuPont could feel every jolt and sway as the vehicle moved. The tight space made it awkward to keep his rifle pointed safely downward without bumping into his fellow soldiers whose jaws were clenched tightly. The air was thick with anticipation as the muted sounds of intense gunfire and explosions blended with the muffled growl of the engine and the clear radio chatter.


    "Goliath, this is Charlie 6," came the steady voice of Charlie Company''s commander, punctuated by distant explosions and gunfire. "We''ve engaged and neutralized two light walkers and estimate ten foot-mobiles along MSR one. Continuing mission. Over."


    DuPont noted that Charlie Company, positioned further ahead, hadn''t even advanced a few miles along their assigned Main Supply Route (MSR), a designation for a primary road or path crucial for moving troops, vehicles, and supplies. The fact that they had already encountered significant resistance so early in their push clearly indicates that the enemy was well-prepared. The enemy must have reacted instantly to the initial push from the 1st Infantry Division and moved to intercept in order to figure out what kind of force they were dealing with.


    "Goliath copies all," C2 responded promptly. There was a brief pause before Goliath''s voice came back over the net. "Bravo 6, any last slant?"


    "Goliath, Bravo 6," DuPont¡¯s company''s commander, Major Ward, replied. "Nothing significant so far. We''re currently moving toward the last known thermal contacts at ISR 4 in the 3000 series. Over."


    DuPont heaved a deep breath. They aimed to secure a potential hilltop that overlooked most of their AOR. Most of what they saw were nothing but lush meadows with airy forests and smaller groves of trees that broke up the extremely exposed terrain. It was almost like the forests were islands amidst the sea of tall grass.


    "Goliath copies," the command unit acknowledged. "Be advised, you are now in a free-fire zone. Proceed south to north along your designated route. Stay low and be aware¡ªthermal contacts detected in the groves of ISR 4. Over."


    In an instant, the nerves washed out of DuPont as he switched gears and keyed his platoon-wide frequency. "This is Bravo 2 actual," he began. "Listen up. We''re entering a free-fire zone with confirmed thermal contacts ahead. Stay sharp and stay frosty. We''ll dismount shortly, so check your gear and be ready for immediate contact.¡± He said cooly as the men around them partially racked their weapons to make sure there was a round chambered. ¡°Remember, watch your sectors, don¡¯t let these fucks get close, and drop anyone that even looks like it''s going to fart something magical. Bravo 2 actual out."


    Inside the Bradley, the atmosphere shifted as the faces of soldiers hardened. The usual jeering and joking that came with the military had vanished while the men maneuvered as best they could in the cramped space. There was no chatter, no bravado¡ªonly the silent efficiency of professionals. Training had fully taken over with muscle memory guiding them through the pre-battle rituals.


    "Bravo 1, Bravo 6.¡± The company commander¡¯s voice resounded over the net with instructions for 1st platoon. ¡°Let me know when you make that right-hand turn at checkpoint 2. Over."


    " 6, this is 1. Wilco. Out," came 1st platoon prompt acknowledgment.


    DuPont glanced down at his End User Device (EUD) and double-checked all the positions of friendly forces across the area. Icons that represented individual units moved like pieces on a chessboard all across the battlespace, making sure there was no chance of crossfire or any friendly fire. This would be crucial when Bravo 1 makes its turn to ensure that no friendlies are down range if it engages anyone.


    The entire company, not just the 1st platoon, executed this maneuver, leaving their flank exposed. But Delta Company was hot on their heels and racing to pass them. They were slated to advance past Bravo Company''s position and secure the gap that would be left when DuPont and his company left when they made their assault.


    As his eyes studied the terrain elevations, it was abundantly clear to DuPont why the hill was so crucial. Not only was it at an impressively high elevation, but it was predominantly flat and expansive enough to accommodate an entire firebase dedicated to indirect fire. It was truly an ideal location for fires of every story: tube and rocket artillery, tactical ballistic missiles, and mortars. It was no wonder the command decided this was a priority target and sent an entire combined arms company with a heavy armor platoon attached to it.


    "Bravo 1 approaching checkpoint 2. Right-hand turn," DuPont¡¯s thoughts were soon interrupted by Bravo 1''s platoon leaders steady voice.


    But, barely a heartbeat later, the same voice continued, "Bravo 1 in contact." 1st platoon leader announced, maintaining the same calm, monotone voice despite the sharp reports of autocannon and machine gun fire that erupted further up the formation. "Bravo 1, dismounting."


    With the situation going from zero to one hundred within a matter of seconds, DuPont readied and shifted his rucksack and equipment at his feet. In just a few moments, he and the rest of his platoon would be barreling out of this tin can the moment they came to a stop and help suppress the tree line. The last thing he wanted was to eat shit the moment the Bradley¡¯s ramp dropped and face plant into the dirt as everyone scrambled to get out.


    "Bravo 6 copies," the Major acknowledged over the radio before switching frequencies. ¡°Goliath, troops in contact.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, Ward switched frequencies to his company¡¯s mortar team. "Baseplate, Bravo 6. Fire mission. Grid to follow.¡±


    There was a brief pause in transmission before Ward recited the predesignated coordinates they had mapped out before the operation started. "Reference point ISR-4, 200 meters south, Over. Enemy ISFB in the northern tree line. Four rounds HE. Danger close." The company commander called for four adjustment rounds first, wanting to confirm accuracy before bringing a fire mission onto the enemy position.


    "Bravo 6, this is Baseplate," came the steady reply. "Fire mission confirmed. Reference point ISR-4, 200 meters south. Four rounds HE, one round each tube. Danger close."


    As the situation escalated rapidly, DuPont adjusted his gear, ensuring his rucksack and equipment were secure and wouldn''t hinder his movement. The last thing he needed was to stumble as soon as the Bradley''s ramp dropped. The confined space was filled with the tension of impending action.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until DuPont¡¯s platoon of four Bradleys and their complement of infantry came to a stop at their designated Vehicle Drop-Off point. "Lieutenant, we''ve reached the VDO," Hofmann, the commander of the M2A3 Bradley¡¯s DuPont was riding in, yelled.


    ¡°Prepare to dismount!¡± DuPont yelled turning to his men and shifted his body weight to make a hasty exit.


    The Bradley shuddered slightly, and a mechanical whine resounded as the vehicle''s ramp lowered. Outside, sharp reports of 25mm cannons echoed as DuPont poured off the ramp and began suppressing the treeline 200 meters in front of them.


    "Go! Go! Go!" DuPont shouted, directing his men out of the vehicle. ¡°Make sure you disperse!¡±


    The soldiers spilled out and oriented themselves towards the treeline. Even though they couldn¡¯t see anyone, the men of Bravo 2 still laid down suppressive fire, following the tracers of other units to prevent the enemy from being cute and popping one of their Bradleys.


    "2-1, 2-2 you¡¯re with me! Push left!" DuPont shouted a flurry of orders at the four squads of his platoon over the radio. "2-3 and 2-4, push right! I want fire superiority in our sector!¡±


    His men didn¡¯t even hesitate as they moved like it was the most natural thing in the world. They immediately bolted away from the Bradleys to their assigned locations, with squad leaders shouting and profanities at the junior enlisted to spur them into action. It only took a moment for the platoon to join the rest of the company in suppressing the treeline further uphill as they hit the ground, exploiting every small dip and rise of the open meadow.


    DuPont caught Baseplate''s voice over the company net over the deafening amount of small arms and cannon fire that ripped apart the treeline. "Shot, over." the mortar team announced, indicating that the rounds had been fired.


    "Shot, out." Major Ward''s voice replied, acknowledging the information.


    Suddenly, a soldier nearby shouted over the chaos, "Hey! I got a bunch of these fuckers moving right to the left! Low!"


    Snapping his head to the side, DuPont saw one of his privates yelling at his fireteam leader, saying he saw enemy positions. His first instinct was to rush over and start micromanaging everything quickly, but the sight of one of the fireteam leaders immediately reacting and assessing the situation washed that idea away. The sight made him remember that his platoon was a finely tuned instrument.


    "Where!?" Corporal Perry yelled over the chaos.


    The private pointed emphatically with his entire hand toward a dense cluster of brush about 200 meters to their right flank. "There! Just saw them slipping through the bushes!"


    Corporal Perry raised his rifle and scanned the indicated area, reacting immediately. ¡°Moose!¡± he yelled for his machine gunner, who was a dozen meters away. ¡°Shift fire! This side!¡± he ordered, pointing his entire arm in the direction his private pointed out.


    The machine gunner didn¡¯t even hesitate as he snapped his head back to his weapon¡¯s sight and started sweeping the area with his belt-fed machine gun. But the Corporal wasn¡¯t done as he got up and bolted further away and started yelling at another soldier, who, in turn, pulled out an M320 grenade launcher and started sending 40mm HE into the brush.


    A smile broke across DuPont¡¯s face as he went back to firing his own weapon at any sign of movement that caught his eye. He didn¡¯t need to do a damn thing. His boys were autonomous, self-sufficient, and most importantly¡­ lethal.


    All hell broke loose as the company unleashed a steady stream of fire into the entire length of the treeline. Tracers streaked toward the enemy''s suspected position, autocannon fire burst against tree trunks, and grenades ripped up the undergrowth. But suddenly, four large explosions rocked the deeper part of the treeline. The initial mortar rounds had impacted but were slightly off-target and detonated farther back than intended.


    "Baseplate, adjust fire mission. Shift 100 meters south. Drop twenty, fire for effect." Over the company net, Major Ward''s voice cut through the noise. ¡°Let me know when rounds complete.¡±


    "Adjust 100 south, twenty rounds HE, four rounds per tube, fire for effect," Baseplate confirmed.


    DuPont couldn¡¯t help but feel thankful for the US Military¡¯s NCO culture as he observed them managing their own subordinates and directing fire. All DuPont had to do was point somewhere and say, "Get rid of it," and his boys would find their own way to accomplish the mission. This allowed him to focus on the bigger picture rather than getting bogged down in micromanagement.


    Although the enlisted¡¯s¡­ creativity could be quite the problem when left to their own devices, so keeping an eye on his men was more-or-less necessary to keep them out of Leavenworth.


    Briefly glancing down at his End User Device (EUD), DuPont quickly studied the real-time positions of his platoon and adjacent units. The map confirmed that Delta Company had already moved past their left flank and closed the gap exposed Bravo Company¡¯s maneuver. It all looked like a choreographed dance, with each unit spinning and turning to the larger symphony, but this dance brought death instead of joy.


    With their flank secured by Delta, the next order of business was to seize the initiative and move on the hill. It was only a matter of time until orders came from the company commander to perform what they¡¯d been rehearsing repeatedly. As DuPont contemplated their approach for their eventual assault, his eyes flicked back and forth from his EUD to the battlefield. The hill was mostly bare, except for the grove that obscured most of the approach upward.


    They had trained extensively for this specific scenario, but now that they were here and saw just how thick the initial bush was, DuPont felt a bit of foreboding. He had seen the reports about what happens when one of these magically enhanced stab-happy bastards got too close, and seeing that there was so much cover gave DuPont a mild case of cold feet.


    ¡°Son of a bitch¡­ Takashi!!" DuPont yelled as he got up to run over to one of his squad leaders. ¡°Where the fuck is Takashi!? Takashi, where are you!?¡±


    Almost immediately, one head popped up and looked around in the tall grass, making himself known to the Lieutenant. ¡°Over here, sir!¡± The squad leader yelled, waving his hand.


    ¡°When I release you, you¡¯re gonna take 2-1 and bound past 2-2 and start throwing grenades into the tree line before you make entry!¡± DuPont shouted over the cacophony as he pointed at the exact location he wanted to be penetrated. ¡°Start pre-firing every goddamn thing! Bushes, leaves, fucking branches! I don¡¯t care!¡±


    Suddenly, the very ground beneath them seemed to shudder. An absolute barrage erupted as the 60mm mortars unleashed their devastating payload onto the treeline. Explosions rippled along the hillside, splintering trees and kicking up massive plumes of dirt and debris. The deafening blasts momentarily drowned out all other sounds, and a wave of heat washed over the advancing soldiers.


    The ground continued to shake as the mortar barrage pummeled the treeline. "This is Baseplate, rounds complete," crackled over the radio. DuPont heard the message but ignored it and instead focused on organizing his people.


    Staff Sergeant Takashi looked around to note where his squad was and where his Lieutenant wanted him before nodding. "Roger that, sir!" he shouted before getting up and running over to his men to issue instructions.


    Satisfied with the prompt action, DuPont looked back down at his EUD and furrowed his brow. He was faced with a conundrum. Would he put all his eggs in the same basket and push into the grove in force? Or would he split his force on the off chance that whatever they faced in there would be too much for them to handle¡­


    DuPont pressed the transmit button on his radio. "2-2, this is 2 Actual," he said, his voice steady amid the cacophony.


    "Copy, 2 Actual. Go ahead," Staff Sergeant Evans replied promptly.


    "Evans, Takashi''s squad is bounding past your position toward the treeline. Once they make contact, you''re to bound up next. Maintain a 30-meter spacing between you and 2-1," DuPont instructed.


    Looking up from his EUD, DuPont noticed that the company was starting to make their pre-assault maneuvers and started slowly moving forward. The call came over the net that the armored vehicles were to advance to 100 meters to shorten the distance of no man''s land. It wasn¡¯t going to be long before DuPont had to perform his part in the attack and lead his men into the treeline.


    "Roger that," Evans acknowledged. "We''ll be right behind them."


    But before DuPont could finish instructing his platoon, the entire network crackled with a new transmission. "Net call, this is Reaper 4-1," the drone operator responsible for ISR-4 cut through the background noise. "Be advised, multiple thermal signatures moving south to north, retreating uphill from ISR-4,"


    The chaos of large-scale combat operations had made it nearly impossible to understand what anyone was saying over the radio. The entire network was filled with overlapping chatter, bursts of essential information, and a unit frantically requesting to manage communication Close Air Support (ECAS). The fog of war was in full swing, and it made managing communications truly difficult.


    "Roger that, Reaper 4-1," Major Ward acknowledged. "You are cleared to engage any targets of opportunity."


    "Copy, engaging targets," Reaper 4-1 confirmed. A brief pause followed, then, "Net call, rifle, ISR-4."


    A few moments later, an explosion rocked the hillside, sending a cloud of dirt and debris into the air that was visible from even DuPont''s position. But the Lieutenant didn¡¯t have time to gawk as he continued to bark into his radio. "You guys make sure your squad pre-fire every goddamn thing, there could still be stabbers lurking around, over!¡± He shouted over the cacophony of talking machine guns while motioning aggressively with his hand.


    After hearing 2-2¡¯s acknowledgment, DuPont switched frequencies to address the entire platoon. "All units, be advised¡ªwe are making our ingress shortly. 2-3 will be with me, and 2-4 will maintain overwatch with the Bradleys.¡±


    With the dust starting to settle, the Bradleys'' engines roared to life as they softly  began to advance at a snails pace.The infantry rose from their positions and moved with the armored vehicles with their weapons oriented towards the treeline, looking for any sign of the enemy.


    DuPont kept pace with the company as his eyes scanned his point of ingress. At this point, every shadow and rustling leaf was a threat. Especially in the dark¡­


    However, his radio crackled to life as his company commander pulled the trigger on the mission set he had been training for. "Bravo 2, move on the LCC," Ward commanded amidst the overlapping chatter of the battlefield¡ªa veritable storm of urgent orders, reports, and requests.


    "2-1, Crash!" DuPont barked at Takashi¡¯s platoon as his eyes remained locked onto the Last Confirmed Contact (LCC).


    Without hesitation, Takashi and his squad got up and sprinted for the treeline.

 Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Cloaks and Daggers Ch. 104

    The treeline erupted into chaos the moment Takashi''s squad crossed the threshold. Profanities and shouting mixed with the distinctive cracks of gunfire as muzzle flashes flickered between branches. DuPont watched intently as more of his men disappeared into the dense foliage, knowing full well that first contact had been made.


    "2-2, Crash!" DuPont barked into his radio without hesitation.


    "Crashing!" Evans¡¯ voice was barely audible over the cacophony of battle as he took off into a sprint.


    DuPont watched as Evans''s squad bounded forward, maintaining the agreed-upon 30-meter distance from where Takashi''s men entered. The sounds of combat intensified as Evans and his boys reached the treeline, blasting at anything and everything as they joined the fray.


    Taking a deep breath to steady himself, DuPont keyed his radio again. "2-3, Crash!"


    "Moving!" Sergeant Miller acknowledged.


    DuPont surged forward with 2-3 and rushed towards the treeline as the rest of the company behind supported their approach. As they covered the ground between them and the forest''s edge, the familiar click of the safety of DuPont¡¯s rifle rang out just when he entered the dense foliage.


    The moment DuPont breached the treeline, his expectations were completely shattered. He''d been expecting the enemy to huddle under whatever they could after the literal hurricane of lead that was dumped into the forest. Maybe a few would try to work up the courage to cast whatever magical bullshit they had and be subsequently cut down by his men, but that was far from the truth.


    Instead, he found his men either firing down into what looked like freshly dug trenches or straight up jumping into them. The sight caught him so off guard that he nearly stumbled into the damn thing, but that brief moment of confusion probably saved his life.


    As DuPont came to a momentary stop in his hesitation, he finally looked down to find himself staring directly at a wide-eyed enemy combatant. The man was curled up at the bottom of the trench, hands clasped tightly over his ears, staring up at DuPont as if he were some kind of demon.


    Their eyes were locked on to each other for what felt like an eternity but couldn''t have been more than a fraction of a second. Then the man''s hands shot out, reaching for what looked like a spear propped against the trench wall. But this wasn''t any normal spear ¡ª the thing seemed to twist and bend in a way that made DuPont''s hair stand on end.


    Muscle memory kicked in before his mind could even process what he was seeing. His rifle snapped up to his shoulder in a rush and sloppy way before his finger squeezed the trigger over and over again. The M4 bucked against him as he dumped half his magazine in panic, causing his targets to yelp and flail wildly after grabbing his weapon.


    From chest to face, the enemy soldier was riddled with bullets until he lay motionless at the floor of the trench while DuPont took a quick look around and jumped inside. ¡°Bravo 6, this is 2!¡± He yelled, keying his push to talk as he kept his rifle trained further down the half-constructed trench line. ¡°They¡¯re making fucking trenches!¡±


    "Bravo6, this is 2!" DuPont keyed his radio frantically as his eyes darted between the multiple paths branching from the main trench. "Enemy fortification at ISR-4! They built a goddamn trench network!"


    The strange spear still gave DuPont the creeps as he grabbed it, the metal feeling unnaturally warm against his gloved hand. Without hesitation, he lobbed it over the lip of the trench toward friendly lines, not wanting whatever the hell was wrong with that thing was nowhere near him or his men.


    "Getting real tired of this fantasy bullshit," he muttered, giving the dead soldier one last suspicious glance before pressing forward.


    Takashi''s voice echoed from somewhere ahead, barely audible over sporadic gunfire. "There¡¯s still fucks in this bunker! Get some frags in there, NOW!"


    The trench zigzagged aggressively, creating perfect spots for ambushes around every corner. DuPont''s throat tightened as he moved cautiously, keeping his weapon trained on each bend before advancing. Most of the initial defenders were dead - their bodies sprawled at awkward angles along the earthen walls - but he could hear scattered fighting further down the line.


    "2-4, this is 2 actual," he called over the platoon net while pressing himself against a dirt wall. "Crash into the trench system, link up with my position! How copy?"


    "2 actual, solid copy!" came the response. "Crashing!"


    Another burst of gunfire erupted ahead, followed by a few muffled blasts, "Go! Get in there!" Takashi¡¯s voice carried throughout the battlefield. ¡°Clear that bitch out!¡±


    DuPont quickened his pace but maintained his discipline, checking each corner and junction before moving. The trench system was like a maze, and he''d be damned if he let his guard down just because the bulk of the enemy appeared to be neutralized.


    As DuPont threw his weapon to his other shoulders to check the next bend, movement caught his eye. He barely had time to register the figure gripping a shovel in one hand and an axe in the other when his training took over. The enemy soldier only managed a brief look of confusion at the small piece of uniform that had peeked around the corner before DuPont''s M4 barked three times.


    The rounds tore through the man''s pelvis, sending him crashing to the ground with an agonized scream. His weapons clattered against the trench walls as he writhed in the dirt, frantically grasping at his shattered lower body. DuPont stepped fully around the corner and put another five rounds into him, silencing the screams.


    His rifle remained trained on the now-still body, when a sudden hand on DuPont¡¯s shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin. "I got you, sir!" Private Wilson''s voice came from behind as he pushed past DuPont, orienting his weapon down the opposite side of the trench junction that DuPont hadn''t cleared.


    "Watch that side," DuPont ordered, jerking his head toward the dead soldier as he started moving again. "I just dropped one there."


    Wilson immediately shifted what sector he was watch as more of 2-3 began filtering into the trench behind them. ¡°Got it, sir!¡± He said as DuPont took off towards the sound of Takashi''s squad engaging the enemy


    Another turn in the trench brought DuPont to Takashi''s position just as two more grenades detonated with sharp cracks. Through the settling dust, he could see the squad stacked up outside what looked like a hastily constructed bunker entrance. Fresh-cut logs formed a crude overhead cover, and sandbags were still stacked nearby, waiting to reinforce walls that would never be finished.


    Intense bursts of gunfire echoed out from the bunker as the soldiers of 2-1 fought to clear the bunker. However, DuPont watched as a sickly green flash suddenly lit up the darkened entrance, along with a flurry of profanities as more gunfire erupted.


    The next second, soldiers came pouring out of the bunker entrance. Some were backpedaling with raised weapons and firing, while others scrambled to get clear. Private Johnson was one of those who stumbled out with crystalline spikes protruding all over his plate carrier, with a few embedded deeply into his left arm. The strange projectiles had an ethereal property to them as they slowly dissipated into mist.


    "MEDIC!" Johnson called out, but his tone was more pissed off than panicked as blood started to soak his entire sleeve. "This is bullshit! Someone get these fucking things out of me!"


    "Jesus Christ," Johnson continued pacing and ranting. "I swear to god, if this shit gives me tetanus or turns me into a fucking frog..."


    But his rant was soon cut short by Takashi grabbing Johnson and yanking him out of the way. "Get the fuck out of the way!" he barked, before gesturing to the men positioned outside the entrance. "Suppress this asshole and get more frags in there!"


    The bunker entrance erupted in a storm as soldiers unloaded into the dark interior. Others reached for grenades, pulling pins and lobbing them through the entryway.


    DuPont dropped to a knee next to Takashi as multiple explosions rocked the structure an keyed his radio. "6, this is 2. We''ve encountered fortified positions in the trench network. One wounded from some kind of magical attack. Bunker appears to be a hasty construction, over."If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "2, this is 6," Major Ward''s voice crackled back. "Copy all. Be advised, we''re seeing similar positions across the entire AO.¡±


    Sporadic cracks of rifles echoed off the earthen walls as more soldiers pushed into the bunker. ¡°Your job is to clear these trenches while 1st and 3rd keep pushing uphill.¡± Ward continued over the radio as muzzle flashes lit up the darkened interior. ¡°1st Infantry already drew out most of their forces, and getting artillery and mortars on this hill is our number one priority.¡±


    "FRAG OUT!" A muffled explosion and more gunfire followed the shout from inside the bunker.


    Looking over his shoulder and seeing another squad leader standing above the trenches barking orders, DuPont realized that this operation was going to be very messy. "Solid copy, 6," he responded over another burst of automatic fire that erupted from the bunker entrance. "Be advised, we''re clearing one fortified position now, but these bunkers are more extensive than they. It looks like they''ve been trying to dig in deep, over."


    "Roger that," Ward acknowledged. "I¡¯m pushing 4 to reinforce you now. Bravo 6, out."


    DuPont''s hand fell away from his push-to-talk as the reality of their situation started to sink in. They hadn¡¯t been training for trench warfare ¡ª hell, it hadn¡¯t even been a thought. The military already had their hands completely full with just getting the literal flood of volunteers up to speed and into units.


    After struggling with a deep recruitment crisis, basic training and infantry school became a revolving door, pumping out new soldiers faster than ever before. Units that hadn''t existed since Vietnam were getting pulled out of mothballs just to handle the influx. The 1st Cavalry had gone from understrength to bursting at the seams in a matter of months. Companies that used to run three platoons were now running five or even six, and battalions were standing up new companies left and right.


    Sweeping his gaze over his men, DuPont saw that his veterans wer vastly out numbered by fresh faces straight out of basic. Half of these kids hadn¡¯t even heard of trench warfare outside of history class, let alone trained for it. The Army had been so focused on getting boots on the ground that a lot of specialized training had fallen by the wayside. Now they were learning the hard way, through a trial by fire.


    If there was one saving grace in this clusterfuck, it was that they''d caught these bastards with their pants down. Most of the resistance they''d encountered weren''t soldiers ¡ª they were closer to a construction crew caught in the middle of their work. The trench network was nowhere near complete, and whoever was supposed to actually defend it hadn''t shown up yet.


    "Lieutenant!"


    DuPont''s head snapped around to see Staff Sergeant Rivera, 2-4''s squad leader, sliding down into the trench with his men filtering in behind him. With his platoon fully assembled, the Lieutenant kicked back into gear. He needed to structure this to get the job done as efficiently as possible while allowing the fresh blood to get as much experience as possible without getting wasted.


    "Alright, listen up," DuPont spoke over the sound of battle erupting from the bunker''s depths. "New guys are about to get a crash course in trench warfare. Anyone who went through the pre-invasion training takes point ¡ª I want you up front showing them how it''s done." He looked specifically at the more experienced NCOs. "I need you to teach on the move. Show them how to check corners, how to use grenade wells, proper sectors of fire ¡ª fucking everything."


    He then turned to the newer soldiers and saw the barely concealed anxiety mixed with excitement. "You newbies stay right behind the veterans. Watch what they do, learn fast, and for fuck''s sake, try not to get yourselves killed."


    "Rivera," DuPont gestured to the network of trenches around them, "your boys are reinforcing Takashi. I need these tunnels mapped and cleared. If you find any that lead off this hill, collapse the fucking things. The last thing we need is some magical asshole sneaking in behind us."


    Rivera nodded sharply. "Got it, sir. You want us pushing clockwise or counter?"


    "Takashi¡¯s already pushing clockwise. He''s already got men in the system." DuPont shifted his weight, changing his magazine as he spoke. "I''m taking 2-3 to reinforce Evans. His sector''s got the most ground to cover, and these trenches are looking to be deeper than we thought."


    "What about demo?" Rivera asked, already signaling his men to move up.


    "Engineers are moving up behind us. Mark anything that you can¡¯t bring down, but keep pushing. We can''t afford to sit around waiting for them." DuPont checked his watch quickly. "Check in every ten. If you lose comms for more than five minutes, I''m assuming you''re all dead."


    "Comforting as always, sir," Rivera said with a chuckle and a shake of his head before turning to his men. "Come on, let¡¯s go hunt some rats!"


    With Rivera moving to reinforce Takashi, DuPont turned and made his way back through the maze of trenches, finding 2-3 exactly where he left them. Most maintained security at the junction while a fire team had pushed ahead, slowly exploring the path that snaked further uphill with their weapons at the ready.


    Dropping to a knee beside Staff Sergeant Wilson, DuPont keyed his radio. "2-2, this is 2 actual. Status?"


    "2 actual, this is 2-2," Evans'' voice crackled back. "Light resistance. It looks like they barely started building the place.¡± 2-2¡¯s squad leader informed. ¡°I¡¯m lookin¡¯ at what I think is construction equipment than bunkers. Over."


    DuPont sat there for a moment as he weighed his options. On one hand, he could hunker down and secure this junction. It was a decent position overlooking the entire base of the hill and a path that led straight up it, or he could push up this path and see if there were any bunkers in the proximity of the assaulting platoons.


    The safest option was to stay put and maintain security until further orders were made, but that didn''t sit right with him. The unexplored trench leading to the top of this could be hiding anything from more half-built bunkers to an entire network of tunnels.


    "2-2, push to my position," DuPont finally responded. Follow the main trench west until you hit a T-junction, " the lieutenant ordered as he popped his EUD down to check the situation in their area of operation. "You''ll see my guys pulling security. Leave a fireteam to watch your sector and link up with me. How copy?"


    "2-2 copies all.¡± Staff Sergeant Evans replied. ¡°Moving to you now. Out."


    With that out of the way, DuPont turned to the sounds of intense combat that echoed from beyond the hill. The crack of heavy weapons and the distinctive thump of explosions suggested that the units pushing inland were meeting far stiffer resistance than what they''d encountered here, which didn¡¯t make sense to the Lieutenant. This hill should have been the defender''s number one priority. One battery of artillery or even 120mm mortars up here could make life hell for anyone trying to move through the valley below. Yet here they were, finding more shovels than soldiers.


    It was a struggle to understand the enemy''s priorities. Clearly, their values in terms of tactical and strategic positions didn¡¯t align with their own, but the fundamentals of taking and holding high ground were universal throughout Earth¡¯s history. Maybe they hadn''t expected an attack so soon, or perhaps they just didn''t think the same way about defensive positions. Either way, DuPont wasn''t about to complain about their good fortune.


    Snapping his EUD back to his chest, DuPont looked up to see the fire team still moving cautiously up the pathway. "Wilson!" he called out. "Get your boys to hold until Evans gets here."


    ¡°Roger that, sir.¡± Wilson nodded before taking off toward his men, leaving DuPont to his own devices at the center of the junction. The Lieutenant kept an eye on the squad leader as he spoke aggressively with his men, pointing with his entire hand toward DuPont.


    But as this exchange occurred, the radio became a hotbed of traffic as Ward spoke up. ¡°All Bravo elements, this is 6. Sitrep.¡±


    "Bravo 3, peak is clear," a voice crackled over the net. "Found nothing but incomplete fortifications."


    "Bravo 4 our sector is also clear," another Platoon leader chimed in. "No resistance in our AO. These positions look fresh ¡ª dirt''s barely settled."


    As all of Bravo Company''s platoons sounded off, the sound of boots trampling dirt and hushed voices announced 2-2''s arrival. Evans'' men soon filtered into the junction, taking up positions along the trench walls, with a few maintaining security above them.


    "Bravo 1," the transmission was punctuated by intense gunfire. "Got some holdouts in a bunker complex, but we''re cleaning house. Should be wrapped in ten mikes."


    "Bravo 6, this is 2," DuPont keyed his radio. "Most resistance eliminated in our sector. Found extensive tunnel networks, still clearing and mapping. One casualty, non-critical."


    With the platoon reports giving him a full picture of what he was dealing with, Ward''s voice immediately cut through the network. "Six copies all. Engineers are moving up to demo any tunnels leading off the hill. I want every bunker mapped and marked.¡± The company commander ordered, "Bravo 3, move to support Bravo 2¡¯s cleanup. Everyone else, continue the mission. Six out."


    DuPont lowered his hand from his radio as a series of acknowledgments came through. Most of the hill appeared to be already secured, and all that was left was to clear out these tunnels. But part of this operation was to take these tunnels. Trench warfare, or what was looking more likely, subterranean warfare, was always an extremely dangerous endeavor with an extremely high casualty rate. Even a handful of these magic users could turn a simple clearing operation into a bloodbath.


    But, lucky for them, it seemed that this hill was far from ready for any type of action as it was missing season soldiers to defend it. ¡°Alright, gather up,¡± DuPont said, keeping his voice low. "Here''s what we know ¡ª Takashi''s squad hit some resistance in a bunker back there. Wasn''t many of them, but one of these bastards managed to light up Johnson with some crystal bullshit before they took him down."


    "We need options here," DuPont continued, gesturing up the dark pathway. "These tunnels are perfect kill zones. One of these magic-using bastards with a staff at the right choke point..." He let the implications hang in the air. "Grenades work, but we saw what happened in Ohio - they''ve got those barrier spells or whatever they are. We keep throwing frags down these tunnels, eventually we''re gonna run dry."?


    Everyone kind of looked at each other with a complicated look for a few minutes before a lone private spoke up.


    ¡°Uhh¡­sir?¡± The private said as every face turned back to him. ¡°What about CS gas?¡±

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 105

    The dull thumps from frag grenades echoed through the bunker complex, followed by the incessant bark of gunfire as soldiers cleared another section of a bunker complex.


    They might have come up with a solid plan to smoke these bastards out with CS gas, but it turned out that getting your hands on the stuff wasn¡¯t possible while in the middle of a frontline operation. DuPont and his platoon were just going to have to do it the good old-fashioned way and toss grenades into every room.


    "Clear!" The call came from inside, followed by boots shifting on wooden planks. "Room''s empty, just more construction shit."


    DuPont watched as one team stacked up on yet another doorway while another pushed ahead, their weapons oriented toward every shadow. These boys were learning quickly¡ªthey weren''t taking any chances with corners or rooms anymore. Each potential threat was met with either a wall of lead or the business end of a frag grenade¡ªusually both.


    The reason was simple enough: clearing rooms sucked. Hollywood liked to show soldiers dramatically bursting through doors and taking down the bad guy before they had any time to react, but that was a fantastic way to catch a bullet in the face. However, in this case, it would be a knife to the throat or a bolt of whatever magical bullshit these interdimensional assholes were going to fling. The solution? Make extensive and very liberal use of grenades, followed by shooting every goddamn thing before you even round the corner. If there was one thing the US Military had in abundance, it was ammunition and explosives. Better to waste them than get wasted.


    A lot of veterans called it ¡®clearing by fire,¡¯ but that was just a fancy way of saying, ¡®blow shit up until nothing moves, then shoot it anyway just to be sure.¡¯


    Thankfully, it seemed like all this firepower was overkill. Every room they''d cleared showed signs of a hasty evacuation - half-eaten meals, personal belongings scattered about, and tools dropped mid-use. But DuPont wasn''t about to let his men get complacent. Lessons from the East taught him that subterranean or trench warfare was way too dicey to cut corners just because it seemed safe. It was far too easy for someone to catch rounds from "empty" rooms.


    "2-1, sitrep," DuPont called over the platoon net while watching another team prep a doorway with grenades.


    "Western sector''s cleared," Takashi responded. "Currently holding security and linking up with the fireteam Evan¡¯s left behind. Over."


    DuPont looked as one fireteam cautiously moved up before keying his push to talk. ¡°2 actual copies. hold your position. 2 actual out.¡± He responded as he noticed his soldiers disappear around a corner.


    With that out of the way, DuPont refocused on the complex he was in. It wasn¡¯t particularly large or impressive, but it was starting to get longer than he anticipated. He started to realize that this wasn''t just another fighting position ¡ª this was an escape route.


    "Bravo 6, this is 2," DuPont keyed his company frequency. He found what looks like a tunnel network running deep, possibly leading off the hill, over."


    "2, this is 6," Ward responded immediately. "Be advised, Bravo 4 has already encountered tunnel entrance at phase line echo, heading north. They''re beginning clearing operations now." There was a pause before Ward continued. "High possibility these networks connect. Watch your fire, over."


    A difficult look spread across DuPont¡¯s face, as the blue on blue was really potential due to their aggressive clearing methods. "Solid copy, 6," the platoon leader responded before turning to Private Rodriguez. "Pass the word¡ªwe''ve got friendlies clearing from the other end."


    Rodriguez nodded and took off down the tunnel at a sprint, his voice soon echoing off the walls along with the sporadic gunfire. "Hey! Watch your fire! We got our own dudes coming down from the other side!"


    As Rodriguez made his rounds, DuPont''s mind wandered back to the problem of clearing these death traps. If there was more than one dedicated magic user with a grudge, they could turn these tunnels into a meat grinder. It¡¯d take a literal ton of grenades to clear them out, especially if they¡¯d have a commitment of infantry with them and the platoon would burn through their supply real quick.


    That suggestion about CS gas wasn''t half bad ¡ª a very enlisted-as-hell thing to suggest, but smart. Of course, there was that slight problem of it being a war crime... or at least adjacent to one. But didn''t hurling acid count as chemical warfare, too? These interdimensional fucks weren''t exactly playing by the Geneva Convention rules themselves.


    Regardless, the question was way above his pay grade, but DuPont was already thinking about how to frame it to his superiors. The casualty projections for clearing these tunnel networks without some kind of force multiplier would be astronomical. There had to be a better way than throwing bodies at the problem.


    But it wasn¡¯t long before the sound of laughter and good-natured shit-talking echoing down the tunnel snapped DuPont from his thoughts. It looked like his boys had linked up with their sister platoon, which meant this hill was more or less wrapped up.


    Getting to his feet, DuPont jogged down the tunnel toward the voices until he eventually found 2nd Lieutenant Jordan Smith already walking his way. The man was as fresh as they came, but he seemed to fit in well with the rest of the company as he held that same shit-eating grin on his face that he always had.


    "Well, if it isn''t the hero of New Philidelphia himself," Smith called out, extending his fist. ¡°Looks like you got everything handled down here.¡±


    DuPont rolled his eyes and bumped Smithis fist with his own. "Oh, shut the fuck up¡­ How''s it looking topside?"


    Smith smirked in amusement and shrugged. "Nothing but smoking craters and body parts. Drones and IDF didn''t leave much for us, to be honest."


    If Indirect Fire (IDF) had caught these bastards in the open like Smith said, they must have been completely unprepared. The evidence was mounting that these weren''t soldiers ¡ª they were construction crews caught with their pants down and their dick in their hands. They probably dropped their tools and bolted through these tunnels the moment shells started slamming into the hill.


    The theory made sense, too. These poor bastards were probably just doing their job and milling about while fortifying this hill before the push happened. Unfortunately for them, the US Military had other plans.


    "Clear!" DuPont¡¯s men called out from behind him as they walked out of the different passageways.


    "Our side¡¯s clear!" This time, Smith¡¯s men shouted as they started making their way to their platoon leader.


    "All clear!"


    DuPont looked at Smith, jerking his head toward the exit. "Let''s get the fuck out of here."


    Smith nodded, keying his radio. "Bravo 6, this is 4. Main bunker¡¯s been cleared and secured. No resistance encountered. Over."


    "Copy that," Ward''s voice crackled back. "Good work. Grab whatever intel you can and meet me at the peak, over."


    "Alright, boys. Grab anything that looks important," DuPont called out to his men. "If you can''t carry it, mark it for intel. Let''s move!"


    Almost immediately, the sound of controlled chaos erupted behind them as soldiers giddily tore through the bunker complex like kids in a candy store. Everything that wasn''t nailed down was getting stuffed into assault packs, cargo pockets or hauled out. Whether it be papers covered in strange symbols, crystalline rods that seemed to hum when touched, or bottles filled with liquids full of liquids that looked too strange to be any conventional chemical, it was getting grabbed.


    "Yo dude, check this shit out," one Corporal Kowalski called out, holding up what looked like a stone tablet. "Think the nerds would want this?"


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    "Fuck yeah they would," his squad leader replied. "Bag that shit!"


    The systematic ransacking continued as the platoons made their way out. Drawers were emptied, footlockers upended, and anything that looked even remotely interesting was either pocketed or marked for the intelligence teams to investigate later.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer before both platoons filtered out through the tunnel entrance with arms full of loot as if they had a productive evening rioting in a mall. As they emerged into the morning light, DuPont''s eyes fell on a line of vehicles already staged at the base of the hill. A convoy of up-armored Humvees towing massive 120mm mortar tubes sat idling, ready to be deployed. Just behind them were a whole host of fuel trucks, ammo carriers, even the batteries command and control vehicle. The Army wasn''t wasting any time in putting this captured position to use.


    Smith let out a low whistle at the display of firepower below. "Damn, that was fast."


    DuPont followed Smith¡¯s gaze and also saw that combat engineers were already rigging trees with demo charges. They seemed to clear a path wide enough for the vehicles to climb. The hill itself was little more than a gentle slope with a soft, rolling elevation, seemingly perfect for placing a rather sizable firebase. The fact that the enemy hadn''t fortified this position better was almost criminal from a tactical standpoint.


    Shaking his head to dispel the stupefaction, DuPont turned around and marched uphill through the dense thicket. The sheer speed of this operation seemed mind-boggling, with assets being put into play the moment they secured their objective. But DuPont also had to admit that he shouldn¡¯t be too surprised as he climbed higher. Large-scale combat operations required quick and decisive action to dictate the battle''s tempo and ultimately win the day.


    As DuPont marched towards where his company commander was set up, he keyed his platoon wide radio to organize the two squads left behind. "2 actual to all elements," he spoke, while flipping down his EUD. "Rally on me at the peak."


    "2-1 copies, moving to you now."


    "2-2, solid copy."


    With that out of the way, DuPont continued uphill with Smiths as the dense vegetation started giving way to open ground. The plateau was dotted with just a few scattered trees and patches of brush - temporary decorations that would disappear as soon as the Engineers started prepping proper artillery positions.


    "FIRE IN THE HOLE!"


    The warning barely registered before an explosion rocked the hillside. The shockwave slapped against DuPont and the rest of the soldiers backs as if a giant hand had slapped then. However, none of them even flinched. The battle for the rift was still raging with the sound of blasts and gunfire ringing out at nearly every decibel level, so a few demo charges didn¡¯t change a thing.


    With massive trees coming down and slamming into the ground, Dupont crested the summit and spotted Ward''s command element. Oriented in a defensive circle, it was a cluster of armored vehicles with two M1068 Command Track variants serving as mobile headquarters at its center. Ward, the company commander, was seen pacing at the very core of the cluster of vehicles, gesturing emphatically as he directed the organization of their new defensive position.


    "Third platoon''s got the western approach locked down," Ward was saying as 1st Lieutenant DuPont and 2nd Lieutenant Smith approached. "I want overlapping fields of fire with-" He cut himself off, spotting DuPont and Smith. "Smith, DuPont! Get over here!"


    Ward closed the distance in a few quick strides. "Got word from battalion ¡ª this hill''s too important to leave exposed. We''re setting up hunkering down here while IDF starts setting up shop." The Major said while jogging the opening of his command vehicle and pulling out a thick, reinforced tablet before opening up a map. "I want your platoon covering the southeastern slope.¡± Work with Bravo 4¡¯s positions to establish interlocking sectors. Those batteries are gonna need time to dig in, and I don''t want any surprises while they''re vulnerable."


    Zooming in on their position, Ward''s fingers danced across the tablet''s screen as he traced potential avenues of approach. "Smith, I want your boys here and here," he indicated two positions with quick taps. "Set up your weapons squads to cover these draws. Anyone tries pushing up those valleys. I want them walking into a wall of lead."


    The Major''s fingers kept moving, sketching out fields of fire. "Your machine guns need to overlap with Bravo 3¡¯s positions ¡ª I don''t want any dead space between you." he traced a gentle elevation. "We¡¯ll have a veritable shit-ton of mortars available to drop rounds to cover the ascent along that eastern approach."


    Smith nodded, studying the map intently as Ward continued laying out the defensive plan. "We¡¯ll have MK-19s and Javelins in position to provide support by fire," he marked two more positions. "If anything reinforced or armored shows up, we¡¯ll have multiple angles on it."


    Suddenly, Ward''s head snapped up, looking at DuPont before pointing over his shoulder. "DuPont, They''re setting up the CCP over there." He pointed toward a flurry of activity where soldiers were erecting large tents near a cluster of armored ambulances and support vehicles. "Take your wounded there. Battalion''s designated this hill as the AO''s primary casualty collection point. Get your man over there and¡ª"


    Another explosion cut him off as engineers continued clearing the hilltop. Ward barely paused, used to the constant demolition by now. "Once your wounded is sorted, get your platoon into position. I want full defensive positions established before IDF gets into place."


    "Yes sir," DuPont acknowledged but didn''t move. "There is one thing though ¡ª these bunker systems¡­ We got lucky this time, but if we keep running into more of them." He let the implications hang in the air.


    Ward''s eyes narrowed as he looked up from his tablet. "It''s already a major fucking problem, Lieutenant," he said, marching into his command track. "Let me show you what I mean."


    The Major reached in and spoke to his Radio Telephone Operator. The RTO quickly nodded and fussed with the communication equipment as Ward returned to his two subordinate platoon leaders. With a purposeful yank, Ward freed his headset from his radio, allowing the communications to blast through the device''s speakers. Almost immediately, the air was filled with overlapping voices of units in contact.


    "BREAK BREAK BREAK! Nine-line MEDEVAC to follow, over!"


    "Negative! Your AO is too hot! We''ve already lost one bird! Stand by-"


    "CHAOS  2-1, contact front! Walker at grid 247698!"


    "All Predator elements, this is 6! Multiple walkers behind our lines at grid 248-"


    "NET CALL!! MASS CASS, MASS CASS! This is Thunder 3-2! We''ve got two squads down! Requesting immediate air support!"


    "All stations, this is Goliath. Thunder 3-2''s position is being overrun. Break. Be advised, enemy forces have tunnels leading behind your lines."


    Ward plugged his headset back in, silencing the chaos. "We¡¯re running into complete networks packed with mages, dug-in infantry, and goddamn monsters." He switched screens on his tablet, pulling up a map of the broader area before showing it to the Lieutenants. "First infantry took the brunt of it, but we¡¯ve discovered most of these tunnels aren''t connected, but enough of them are. We''ve got enemy elements popping up behind our lines, hitting entire companies before disappearing back into their holes."


    "It''s why this hill became priority one.¡± Ward gestured towards the heavy mortar systems that were finally in position and setting up. ¡°Command needs fires to support the entire corps'' push inland. We''re currently in a lowland valley, but ISR shows dense forest ahead." The company commander¡¯s jaw clenched. "Once we make a push, we¡¯re going to need immediate fire support. These tunnel networks are bad enough in open ground ¡ª in dense forest, they''ll be a nightmare. Every time we think we''ve cleared a sector, these bastards come crawling out of some hole we missed. That''s why we need every gun, every tube, and every rocket system we can fit on this hill."


    "Jesus," Smith interjected, a difficult expression crossing his face. "If this is what we''re initially running into..." He glanced around hesitantly before continuing. "What the hell do their actual fortified positions look like? Do we even have enough ordinance to drop on every complex we stumble across?"


    The truth of those words hit hard. Even with the full might of the US Air Force, there was no way they¡¯d even have enough precision munitions in the inventory to crack every bunker they''d encounter. And at the end of the day, someone would still have to go down into those holes and clear them out room by room.


    "We''ll have to break a few rules if we don''t want to send home piles of bodies in bags,"


    DuPont added with a cringe.


    The implications hung heavy in the air. They might have been far from the Pentagon''s decision-makers, but they all knew this conversation would hit the brass sooner rather than later, probably right after the casualty reports started flooding in.


    "One of my men suggested CS gas," DuPont said carefully. "Could flush them out of these tunnels before we send guys in." He hesitated before adding, "White phosphorus was another suggestion."


    Ward''s face soured as he looked back down at his tablet, scrolling through reports from units engaged with the enemy. The fighting had been brutal - entire platoons burning through their combat loads in minutes. They were going through grenades like water, and for what? To clear maybe a hundred meters of tunnels at a time?


    "CS gas..." Ward muttered, his jaw working as he thought it over. "Might happen that a few MP units lose track of some CS grenades after we get a breather." He looked up at DuPont meaningfully. "White phosphorus, though ¡ª that''s not something I can just overlook. These bastards might be using acid and whatever else, but willy pete? That''s a whole different conversation with command."


    The distant sound of combat seemed to intensify as if emphasizing the urgency of their situation. More reports were coming in - units bogged down, supplies running critical, casualties mounting.


    "Get your defensive positions established," Ward finally said, closing his tablet. "I''ll consider bringing this up to battalion. But for now¡ª" He was cut off by another explosion as the engineers continued their work. "For now, we need this hill locked down tight. Smith, get your boys in position. DuPont, get your wounded sorted and your men dug in. We''ll figure out how to handle these tunnels later."


    As DuPont and Smith turned to leave, Ward called after them. "And gentlemen? This conversation never happened."

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 106

    The sound of warning horns echoed throughout the forest as wyvern riders darted between the trees to get to their mounts. The deep bellows started to overlap as more outposts took up the call, as full-blooded dragons roared overhead, sounding the alarm.


    Eira''s fingers fumbled with the straps of her riding harness as she sprinted between the trees, her boots sliding on patches of wet leaves. The proverbial hornet''s nest had been kicked all around her as the entire forest had erupted into chaos. Riders wrestled with their mounts, trying to secure saddles and harnesses on already agitated creatures. One particularly irritated wyvern thrashed its head, nearly taking out its handler with its horns as he struggled to get its battle armor in place.


    "Get those beasts in the air!" someone shouted as Eira ducked under a wing.


    She vaulted over a fallen log, narrowly avoiding a collision with another rider who was sprinting in the opposite direction. More horns joined the desperate chorus ¡ª not the deep bellows to take off, but the shorter, sharper calls signaling for immediate scramble.


    This was different from the organized response they''d drilled for. There was no time for proper formations, no chance to gather intelligence or coordinate their defense. The absolute chaos of this ordeal told Eira everything she needed to know ¡ª they were here.


    The otherworlders had finally come.


    Through gaps in the canopy, Eira caught glimpses of shadows launching skyward as the elements that were on standby took off. Leaves and broken branches rained down as wings beat against the forest ceiling, riders not even waiting to clear the trees before urging their mounts higher.


    Eira had no time to properly organize her people or even hear what it was they were even taking off for. Whatever the dragons caught wind of had spooked them enough to trigger every goddess-forsaken alarm in the region and dragged everyone south towards this supposed rift where the otherworlders had appeared. But the dragons'' infectious urgency that spread through the ranks caused an outright panic. It was like a domino effect as draconic roars led to horns blowing to get the wyverns airborne for miles.


    Eventually, Eira reached Skadi, who was as agitated as the rest, growling and snapping at anyone who strayed too close. But the moment he caught sight of Eira, his restless energy focused, and he immediately stilled himself for armoring. Eira slid to a stop beside the armor plating she''d left propped against a tree and immediately got to work.


    "Good boy, Skadi," she cooed, running a hand along his neck as she worked. "Such a good boy." The wyvern rumbled in response as she quickly but methodically secured straps and checked enchanted buckles.


    "Wings out," she commanded, and Skadi immediately complied, spreading his impressive wingspan. Eira darted around her mount, fingers probing every joint and scale, checking each piece of armor. She wouldn''t risk missing something like a loose strap or misaligned plate just because they were in a hurry. Any one of those things could either leave a gaping hole in her at best or send her tumbling to her death at worst.


    Satisfied with her inspection, Eira vaulted onto Skadi''s back, securing her helmet with one hand while harnessing herself to the saddle with the other. "Now!" she commanded when secured before laying flat against his armored neck.


    Skadi arced his wings in preparation for take-off as mana gathered around him. His legs coiled beneath him, and his muscles tensed while orienting upward. He kicked off the ground with an explosive burst, snapping his wings outward as he released the built-up energy in one powerful downbeat. The resulting gust propelled them violently toward the dense canopy above. But, just before the thorns and branches bombarded his rider, Skadi''s wings curled inward, creating a protective shield around Eira as they punched through to join the massive aerial armada.


    Despite his efforts, a few whip-like limbs still found their mark, leaving stinging cuts and bruises against Eira¡¯s exposed skin. Skadi, however, had taken the brunt of the assault, his armored hide deflecting the worst of it. Together, they plunged into absolute bedlam, where dragons dominated the airspace above as their massive forms climbed higher and higher. At the same time, streams of wyverns surged upward from the forest below, struggling to keep pace with their larger, more powerful cousins.


    Eira''s eyes darted frantically between the already airborne wyverns, searching for her flight''s distinctive red and yellow wing markings. She''d be damned if she was going to charge into whatever in the infinite hells awaited them without some semblance of organization or structure. The last thing she wanted was to get into some chaotic scrap with no wingman to back her up or a flight to protect her flank.


    But through the chaos, Eira eventually spotted a few wyverns with the same colors painted on their wingtips. Their riders'' heads swiveled frantically as they, too, began to search for their flight mates.


    Banking Skadi into a wide turn, Eira flew against the grain to stand out from the mass of ascending riders. Once she caught everyone''s attention, she pulled on the control handles, signaling Skadi to rear back hard and flare his wings. She displayed her colors and the commander''s banner prominently against the bright sky as he hovered momentarily, causing every other wyvern to turn out of the way to prevent a collision.


    The maneuver had its intended effect. Against the mass of ascending wyverns, Skadi''s obsidian scales made them impossible to miss. His dark form hung there like a hole in the sky, commanding attention amidst the sea of colors. In response to Eira¡¯s little stunt, beats twisted and turned to avoid collision before continuing their ascent while riders riders snapped their heads toward them letting out a slew of curses. But Eira could care less about their irritation ¡ª she needed her people, and her gambit had paid off.


    One by one, wyverns bearing her unit''s colors broke from the chaos to join Eira¡¯s formation. The red and yellow markings on their wings flashed in the late afternoon sun as they took up their positions next to her. But as she counted that heads that fell into formation, Eira saw that only a little more than half had made it airborne. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but with the dragons agitation growing more obvious by the second, they couldn''t afford to wait. The rest would have to catch up when they could.


    Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, Eira gathered mana into her right hand. The familiar tingle of power spread through her arm, until her limb and both of Skadi''s wingtips glowed with a bright, ethereal red. Then the wyvern commander made a deliberate circular gesture, signalling her subordinate riders to form up and follow as she restarted her ascentto catch up with the rest of the horde.


    Eira¡¯s heart hammered in her chest the formation began their climb. Their tight, disciplined formation stood out sharply against the chaotic swarm around them as the moved as a unit rather than a scattered mess of individual riders. Where other flights struggled to maintain any form of cohesion, her people moved as one.


    Above them, the dragons'' behavior only caused her anxiety to intensify. These weren''t the Juveniles or even sometimes Young Adults she usually shared airspace with during patrols and training flights. These were elders and even a few ancient dragons ¡ª massive beings whose wingspans could eclipse entire villages. Their scales bore the signs of centuries, and their presence made the air feel like lead. The great beast''s agitation sent ripples of unease through the smaller wyverns as they snarled and snapped at each other.


    Never in Eira''s life did she think she''d see so many massive dragons in one place. Now, she already prided herself on maintaining a professional composure, but Eira couldn¡¯t help but gawk at the congregation, flying frantically toward whatever awaited them. Most riders went through their entire careers without seeing more than one or two beings of such power and age, but here she was, flying within a whole flock.


    But even her wonder at the elder dragons paled compared to what came next. Eira¡¯s carefully maintained decorum shattered completely as her jaw dropped when unfathomably large ancient seraphic dragons cut through the sky above her flight. Their iridescent scales left trails of glowing magical essence in their wake, and the air seemed to shimmer.


    Eira only saw them from a distance as they worked at an altitude she couldn¡¯t even fathom going to. To see one this close was incomprehensible. Skadi, an already sizable beast, was barely the size of a single feather on their massive wings.


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    And this Seraphic dragon wasn¡¯t alone. Just under a dozen of these legendary creatures powered through the sky in their own tight formation, and their ancient wings carried them past not just the wyverns but even the larger, scaled dragons as if they were standing still. To see just one of these beings of myth, let alone multiple, made Eira''s blood run cold.


    With a shake of her head, Eira forced herself to focus and tightened her grip onto Skadi¡¯s control handles. Now was not the time to just sit there and gawk. If creatures of such power were this agitated, whatever awaited them had to be beyond dangerous and she couldn''t afford to be distracted by awe, no matter how magnificent the sight above her was.


    Glancing back, she noticed more of her unit were trickling in, drawn to the only organized formation in this aerial chaos. While still not at full strength, their numbers had far exceeded her expectations. Then again, being the sole disciplined unit in this frenzy made them stand out like a beacon as it attracted wyvern riders outside of her flight.


    As they flew, the sun beat down on them in an oppressive manner, obstructing the rider''s sigh with a particularly nasty glare. However, despite the relentless rays of the late afternoon sun, the biting chill of their speed cut through Eira''s riding leathers. Her body was cramped against the harness, forced into an unnatural position that made every muscle protest. The only thing protecting her from the full force of their velocity was the way Skadi''s scales and spines created a windbreak around her position. Still, the cold found its way through, a constant reminder of their incredible speed.


    Eira lowered her head and closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything except her protesting body. Every few minutes, she''d look up to check their progress, and each time she was shocked by how far they''d went. "We''re moving awfully far out..." she muttered with a tinge of concern creeping into her voice.


    Looking down, she noticed the forest below showed no obvious signs of their forces ¡ª no fog banks concealing troops, no magical barriers, nothing. For a moment, she thought they might be passing over the druids'' grove but quickly dismissed the idea. The treants would have already started pelting them with tree trunks or debris if they''d strayed that close to their domain.


    The realization that they must have flown much further south than she initially thought threw Eira through a loop. When the alarms first sounded, she''d assumed they were scrambling for an imminent attack, but they''d been flying for well over half an hour now. As her attention finally pulled away from the ancient beings above, something caught her eye on the horizon¡ªsomething that made her stomach twist with unease.


    A section of the sky looked... wrong. Eira squinted against the glare, focusing on the anomaly and saw a perfectly shaped sphere of what appeared to be early morning darkness an untold amount of miles in the distance. The aberration was so subtle she''d almost missed it, like a smudge on an otherwise pristine painting and the longer she stared, the more unnatural it seemed. It was as if that part of reality itself had been replaced with something else.


    "What in the infinite hells..." she whispered, tilting her head in confusion.


    Her grip on Skadi''s control handles tightened unconsciously. Was this some new kind of spell? Some magical experiment they hadn''t encountered before? Whatever it was, she knew this was the very thing that had spooked the dragons.


    But¡­ if this strange phenomenon was the source of whatever was happening, why weren''t they flying directly toward it? Their formation was running almost parallel to it. As a matter of fact, they were slowly backing away as if giving it a wide berth. They were still going in their general direction, but it felt like they were chasing something.


    Something that had escaped from that eerie aberration in reality.


    Looking up to try to make sense of their course, Eira focused on the seraphic dragons now at an even higher altitude. The great beasts were accelerating even as if moving to intercept something far out of the horde''s reach.


    The wyvern commander narrowed her eyes, scanning the unsettled skies for any sign of hidden foes. In an instant, the world changed. the feathered titans reared back, bleeding off speed and conjuring a cascade of multi-colored barriers that shimmered with hues like stained glass. Each iridescent wall appeared far in front of the seraphic dragons for only a breath before exploding into glittering shards as if absorbing the force of a hundred invisible arrows. One after another, the barriers broke in swift succession, scattering their fragments into the wind while the sounds of thunderous impacts resounded shortly after the dazzling display.


    Eira¡¯s mouth fell open in shock when something equally as jaw-dropping caught her attention at the corner of her eye. One of the scaled dragons just above her jerked violently as if struck by an invisible hammer. Its pained roar shook the sky as its massive body thrashed in agony and dropped several hundred feet. As it fell, its tail and wings swept through a formation of riders below, sending wyverns and their pilots tumbling to the ground before it righted itself and growled in anger.


    Snapping her head around wildly, Eira looked to see if anyone else had witnessed what had just happened and saw that everyone was equally disturbed. But before anyone could even process that they were under attack, true horror unfolded before them. Dozens of wyverns at the head of their formation simply... came apart. Some were violently blown in half, showering those close behind them with viscera, while others sprouted massive holes in their bodies as if struck by invisible giants'' arrows. Both riders and mounts alike fell from the sky in pieces. There was no warning, no visible attack ¡ª just sudden, inexplicable carnage.


    The scene repeated itself across the sky like a grotesque theater play. Waves of invisible attacks tore through their ranks, leaving only carnage in their wake. Eira found herself trembling as her head snapped from side to side, desperately searching for any sense of direction. But there were no orders coming, no battle plan being formed, and no tactical maneuvers ¡ª how could there be when you were against an enemy you couldn''t even see?


    Looking at her fellow commanders, she saw the same panic mirrored in their body language. Even the most seasoned riders seemed lost and hopeless in the face of yet another volley from invisible enemies. The devastating attack tore through their formations, and for a heartbeat, all felt eerily silent when something Eira would have considered impossible caught her eye. Just above the masses of wyverns, Eira caught the sight of a juvenile dragon suddenly going rigid. There was no struggle, no roar of defiance; the mighty creature simply stiffened and dropped from the heavens like a stone. And when it crashed through the canopy, the impact shook the earth.


    At that moment, the truth hit Eira like a physical blow. One of the most powerful beings in their world had been snuffed out as easily as a candle¡¯s flame. It appeared the Duchess hadn''t been chasing shadows nor jumping at phantoms. Whatever they were fighting were swatting wyverns out of the skies like flies and slaying dragons.


    Eira¡¯s survival instincts screamed as another wave of attacks lit up the sky. Explosions bloomed like deadly flowers, catching those that were foolish enough to fly close together, turning riders and mounts alike into red mist.


    ¡°DIVE!¡± Eira screamed, channeling power into her arm until it glowed like a beacon. Her hand cut sharply downward in a desperate command as she wrenched Skadi¡¯s control handles. The wyvern responded instantly and pitched his nose almost straight down, beating his wings with all his might. Eira¡¯s vision blurred at the edges from the sudden maneuver. Her body strained against the harness, and gravity fought to hurl her from the saddle.


    Then she saw it ¡ª for just a fraction of a second as a white, elongated shape with tiny fins, moving faster than anything she''d ever seen, shot past her faster than she could even comprehend. If Eira had delayed for just a moment longer, her and Skadi¡¯s fate would have been sealed. But that didn¡¯t mean she was spared from any of the aftereffects. A thunderous crack soon followed after the projectile and hit Eira like a hammer, sending Skadi into an uncontrolled spin. Her world became a blur of sky and forest as the sound wave scrambled her senses. She could feel Skadi thrashing, trying to regain control, but the control handles had slipped out of her hands.


    Up became down as Eira flipped head over heels, causing her to lose all sense of orientation in the chaotic tumble. While violently swinging around, her grip on Skadi slipped, and the very harness meant to secure her now whipped her around like a ragdoll. She let out a desperate screech while flailing blindly for anything to hold onto, but her searching hands found only smooth scales. To make matters worse, each impact against Skadi¡¯s body robbed her lungs of air before the harness flung her back into empty space, only to jerk her to another bone-jarring stop.


    Fortunately, Skadi managed to pull out of their death spiral, leveling off just before they brushed the treetops. The abrupt shift slammed Eira into his flank, forcing a gut-wrenching ¡°oof¡± from her lips and leaving her dangling like a puppet on a single string. The world was still spinning, but when she realized she wasn¡¯t dead, her raw survival instinct kicked in. Eira scrambled back onto Skadi¡¯s saddle as if pursued by demons while her fingers clawed for purchase on his armored hide.


    As her vision steadied, Eira looked up to see she wasn''t alone in her desperate dive. Not only was her unit diving, but nearly every wyvern rider in the sky was following close behind, breaking formation to get as low as possible. Those who didn''t were met with fire and brimstone. Explosions were so powerful that Eira felt them in her bones, blooming in every inch of the sky.


    The message was clear¡ª if you stayed high, you died. But even hugging the treetops wasn''t guaranteed safety. Riders were still being picked off left and right, sending their bodies and their mounts tumbling into the forest below. The projectiles that missed turned the forest itself into kindling, either exploding trees into splinters or boring holes clean through as if struck by a giant''s arrow.


    It dawned on Eira that there was a very good chance she wasn¡¯t going to make it out of this alive. The bone-rattling explosions, the deafening cracks of objects breaking the sound barrier, and the screams of those falling to their death all mixed into a hellish chorus that made her blood run cold.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 107

    The Forsaken Duchess of the Empire, Vyrrasha, stalked through her palace halls with the kind of arrogant grace only a dragonkin of her standing could manage. Her talons clicked against marble floors like angry punctuation marks that outlined her mood. But that didn¡¯t deter the sound of running footsteps that quickly chased her from behind.


    "Your Grace! Your Grace!"


    "I know," she growled, a plume of flame escaping her feathered snout in irritation as if she needed her aides to tell her when the territory under her purview was under attack. The Duchess didn''t break stride as she reached one of the bedrooms she had turned into a control center, throwing the ornate door open with enough force to knock out a few hinges and embedded the handle into the stone wall.


    The circular chamber was packed with activity. Generals and advisors crowded the center of the room, encompassed by strange magical orbs conjured by diviners. Their hands wove complex patterns as they scried on the battles unfolding countless miles away. Different sides of the sphere showed different views of the conflict¡ªaerial battles near the rift, ground engagements further south, and reinforcements moving towards the contested territories.


    Her court mage, Anke, turned toward the doorway the moment Vyrrasha made her entrance. The high elf''s long, drooping ears swayed with the movement as he fixed his liege with a grave look. "Your Grace. They''ve come."


    Vyrrasha''s feathered face twisted in displeasure as her eyes flicked between the magical displays. Each side showed a different flavor of disaster unfolding. "So it would seem," she said, watching as one of the younger dragon thralls suddenly stiffened and went limp after being struck by... something.


    She''d caught a glimpse of them, something the lesser races couldn''t even hope to perceive at such speeds. White or grey, elongated and strangely smooth shapes with small fins sped through the air and seemed to adjust their course mid-flight. They moved impossibly fast. Faster than any arrow or bolt of magic she''d ever witnessed and left violet disruption of air in their wake. But what truly caught her attention was how they seemed to know exactly where they were going. It was as if they were tracking and following their targets even as they tried to evade.


    These weren''t just projectiles ¡ª they were hunters. Vyrrasha watched as another salvo streaked through her forces. They moved strangely and unnaturally. It was as if these strange darts were guided by an invisible hand before striking their targets with a precision that couldn¡¯t come from something alive. Not only that, but the explosions that followed weren''t like any of the magicks she knew. These were different ¡ª sharper, more focused as if designed to erupt on proximity.


    The duchess knew this day was coming ¡ª she had warned them all it was coming ¡ª but that made watching it unfold no less infuriating after pouring over the details of the Empire''s failed excursion. Vyrraasha took what she thought were appropriate precautions by fortifying positions and establishing new operational procedures. But now she couldn¡¯t help but grit her teeth as she watched her efforts be systematically destroyed.


    It was painfully clear that she had severely miscalculated, but how was she supposed to predict these otherworlders could strike from such impossible distances? The reports had mentioned their strange weapons, yes, but nothing had prepared her for whatever in the infinite hells this was. These weren''t just tools of war ¡ª they were implements of wholesale slaughter that defied her understanding.


    When Vyrrasha turned her attention to the other side of the scrying sphere, her stress levels went up a notch. She watched as the initial blocking forces near the left were absolutely hammered by repeated explosions that honed in on their fixed. Not single detonations or focused blasts like she''d seen before, but waves of synchronized destruction throughout the landscape. Everything in their path ¡ª fortifications, soldiers, even the forest itself ¡ª was being reduced to ruin.


    "Explosion magic?" Vyrrasha turned to Anke, her scaled features twisting as if she''d tasted something particularly foul. "Since when did lesser races master the employment of explosion magic? And in such... overwhelming quantity?"


    The high elf stood silent for a moment, his ancient eyes fixed on the magical display as another wave of explosions devastated their defensive lines. He''d read the same reports she had about the Empire''s failed incursion, but nothing in those documents had detailed this type of weaponry. "Your Grace," he finally spoke, his voice tight with concern. "I don''t believe this is magic at all. These explosions are too... consistent."


    Anke stepped forward while his elegant fingers brushed aside a few strands of bright blonde hair. He pinched his chin in thought as he examined each detonation. "Look at the pattern, Your Grace," he said, gesturing to the devastation. "Each explosion is nearly identical to the last and only varies in their arrangement."


    The duchess''s eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted between where her forces were being slaughtered and Anke himself. "They are not the same. Some are clearly larger."


    "Yes, but only two varieties," Anke corrected, earning a sharp look from Vyrrasha, which he ignored. "One significantly larger than the other, but consistently so. With explosion magic, this would be impossible¡ªnot just due to the scale, but because no two magical explosions are ever truly alike.¡±


    Another haughty and angry plume of flame left Vyrrashas snout as she glared at this petulant elf, but stayed her hand and held her tongue as she allowed Anke to continue. ¡°The very nature of mana makes it impossible to achieve such uniformity. Each explosion is as unique as a snowflake, shaped by the caster''s visualization, their control, and the ambient magic in the area..." The high elf gestured at the display. "Yet these explosions are nearly identical and only varying in their size. Even a master mage channeling explosion magic would create wildly different effects with each cast. The mana simply cannot be controlled in such an... artificial manner."


    "And look at how they detonate," Anke traced the explosions with a slender finger. "Both sizes have splinters that showered everything around it, as if..." he paused, brow furrowing as he processed what he was seeing. "As if the explosion itself is contained within some kind of casing that fragments upon detonation. That''s why we see the same shrapnel pattern with each blast. Both types never deviate from these respective patterns. It''s mechanical, manufactured and in no way magical."


    Vyrrasha huffed in irritation at both at Anke''s observations and her own failure to notice these details sooner. Her draconic vision allowed her to perceive what others in the room could not  as her eyes narrowed and focused on the area just above where the impacts occurred.


    There ¡ª barely visible even to her enhanced sight ¡ª dark objects streaked through the air. They moved in perfect arcs, like a flock of deadly birds. The things were encased in what looked like dark green metal casings which seemed to absorb the sunlight before they began their terminal descent. As the projectiles slammed into a section of the forest, ancient trees, some older than the empire itself, snapped like twigs under the impacts. Their massive trunks splintered apart as the explosions rippled through her forces ranks, sending shrapnel and wooden debris flying in all directions.


    Silence fell over the room as they watched the soundless visage unfold below. A large group of her soldiers ¡ª the vanguard meant to act as the first roadbump ¡ª completely routed. The levimen and mana users alike scrambled from their bunker complex as the repeated impacts caused reinforced support beams to crack and enchanted walls to buckle. They emerged into daylight like ants fleeing a drowning nest, just as another wave of projectiles descended from above.


    The Duchess¡¯ claws dug into the marble table as she watched the scene play out, leaving deep gouges in the stone. The soldiers never stood a chance. The first explosion caught their rear ranks, turning armored warriors into red mist. The second and third blasts bracketed their flanks, herding the survivors into a killing zone like shepherds driving sheep to slaughter. The subsequent strikes landed directly among them, completely annihilating everything as round after round pounded the position. Only a few survivors remained when the dust settled, scurrying or limping about and fleeing for their lives.


    Vyrrasha''s expression became dispassionate as she watched the carnage unfold, her featured features settling into the cold mask she wore when processing military matters. All across the battlefield, the same style of explosions tore through different sections of the forest ¡ª methodical, precise, and utterly devastating. Her body relaxed into a deceptively casual pose with her arms folding across her chest as she considered the implications. This same scene was undoubtedly playing out across their entire initial point of contact all along the rift.


    She had organized these troops to be an initial roadblock ¡ª expendable, yes, but meant to serve a greater purpose. They were supposed to probe the enemy''s capabilities, to force them to reveal their hand in a controlled engagement. Instead, they''d been reduced to less than an inconvenience, swatted aside like insects. The only insight she''d gained was far more concerning than she''d anticipated ¡ª these otherworlders could completely obliterate any position they could detect, without ever revealing themselves. They didn''t need to engage directly. They didn''t need to commit to battle. They simply rained death from beyond sight.


    This type of warfare wasn''t entirely alien to her. The Empire had their own version of indirect warfare ¡ª ritual circles that could magicks devastate distant targets or specialized beasts strike distant targets with the help of a spirit eagle. But she currently lacked access to those particular... assets. And even if she had them at her disposal, they couldn''t maintain this relentless volume of sustained fire. Not at this scale and most definitely not with this kind of precision.


    Turning her head slightly, The Duchess giving Anke a calculated side-eye that would have made lesser beings tremble. "How close can we get that spirit eagle to the otherowrlders positions?" Her tone made it clear this wasn''t really a question ¡ª it was a demand wrapped in the thinnest veneer of courtesy.


    Anke was seemingly immune to the Duchess intimidating gaze as he maintained his impassive expression, but the obvious signs of stress were there. His attention slowly shifted to one of the diviners ¡ª a human woman whose hands moved in intricate patterns as she maintained control of the spirit eagle she used to scry over the land battle.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The court mage studied her for a moment, noting the tension in her movements.  Beads of sweat were dripping down her face forehead from the effort of sustaining such complex magic at such an intense distance. Fortunately, half of her load were offset by another who seemingly linked to her and conjured a display for all to see, so the scryer could focus on pushing her consciousness across an unfathomable distance.


    "Elena, redirect the eagle. Her Grace wishes to see what manner of weapons we''re dealing with." Anke instructed as he approached the woman.


    The diviner¡¯s concentration wavered at the interruption. Her fingers trembled, and the battlefield¡¯s image shimmered as she struggled to maintain the delicate scrying spell. After stabilizing it once more, she cast a nervous glance toward the corner of the room, where her predecessor lay wounded under a healer¡¯s care. The injured diviner clutched at her eye and groaned through clenched teeth after suffering from the backlash of her spirit eagle¡¯s violent demise.


    ¡°Master Anke, we¡¯ve¡­ we¡¯ve already lost three eagles,¡± the diviner in control said. ¡°The last time we ventured too close, they were shredded by some kind of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then fly higher,¡± Anke snapped as his aristocratic patience started to fray. His ears began to twitch subtly, and his eyes tightened as his emotions began to betray the famed control high elves were known for. ¡°But we need those eyes on their position. Now.¡±


    Glancing once more at her wounded colleague, the diviner in control returned to her work and resumed control of the spirit eagle, causing it to ascend. Even Anke''s relatively restrained display of impatience was enough to make her nervous ¡ª everyone in the room knew the source of that impatience was the looming Seraphic Dragonkin, who looked as if she¡¯d turn every soul in the room to cinders.


    The view through the scrying sphere shifted as the spirit eagle changed course and headed directly toward the anomaly that joined their worlds. Vyrrasha''s features underwent a series of subtle changes ¡ª her eyes first widening, then narrowing to slits as she processed what she was seeing.


    Columns upon columns of... what were those? Not beasts, they moved nothing like anything that lived. These were some type of carriages or machines, similar to those rail-bound contraptions the dwarves were so obsessed with but fundamentally different. These, instead, moved freely across the landscape, their metal hides painted completely in earthly greens with some a desert tan. Some were massive, hulking things with long metal snouts that pivoted independently of their bodies. Others were smaller, carrying people in their armored bellies or mounted with strange, smaller snouts on their tops.


    "It seems the reports weren''t exaggerating about this either," she muttered, watching one of the larger machines in action. Though the scrying spell carried no sound, she could see the raw power of each blast from their snouts ¡ª both the larger snouted ones that devastated the lands around it with each eruption and the smaller snouted ones that spat death in a more controlled fashion.


    But it was their ground forces that truly caught her attention. At first glance, their movements appeared chaotic, almost haphazard. Yet there was an underlying deliberateness to their apparent disorder. They moved like water flowing around rocks ¡ª breaking apart, reforming, and always advancing. One group would unleash a continuous barrage from those strange staff weapons they carried and either pin down or outright slaughter her forces. It was like watching an elite formation of the veteran levied, except these weren''t elite troops - this appeared to be their standard.


    Occasionally, Vyrrasha caught glimpses of mana users breaking through and wreaking havoc among the otherworlds ranks. But such victories were fleeting - a mage might get off one spell, perhaps two if they were lucky, before the soldiers in their strange foliage-colored garb would turn as one and riddle them with holes. Warriors fared somewhat better when they managed to close the distance, but even they rarely survived more than a few moments. These soldiers seemed to operate on the principle of never fighting fair and always maintained a distance as if it were a religion.


    Her eyes swept across multiple engagements, analyzing each brief, brutal exchange. The strange staves that spat death caused a feather or two to fall out of Vyrrasha''s face as it scrunched in distaste. One weapon caught her attention, though¡ªa small spherical device they used against those who were pinned down by their constant barrage. The spheres would explode, killing or disorienting their targets, and the otherworlders would immediately swarm the position, finishing off survivors before they could even understand their surroundings.


    It was ruthlessly efficient. These weren''t warriors seeking glory in combat¡ªthey were butchers and killers. Killers focused solely on the quickest and easiest path to their enemies'' demise. Vyrrasha had faced similar opponents before on the battlefield, each one proving more problematic than the last. The Tauri ranked high among them, but this... this was different.


    "These are not the actions of an inexperienced force," she said disdainfully, turning to Anke. "This is a military that has mastered whatever their art is."


    "Indeed," Anke replied, his fingers tracing their movement patterns in the air. "Notice how they never fight alone ¡ª always in pairs, always covering each other. Even their seemingly chaotic movements serve to funnel our forces into prepared killing grounds. They''ve turned warfare into calculus."


    Vyrrasha''s eyes fixed on a particular piece of elevated terrain as the spirit eagle ventured further inland. Not quite a hill ¡ª it was more like nature''s attempt at a plateau, offering a perfect vantage point over the surrounding valley. However, What drew her attention wasn''t the position itself but the frantic activity on it.


    More of those foliage-garbed soldiers darted around strange tubes mounted on tripods. They''d drop something into the top, and moments later... Her eyes twitched as she watched one of those very same ¡°somethings¡± be violently propelled toward the horizon in the same fashion as the projectiles that decimated her troops. The same shape, the same speed, and the same explosion in the same location.


    "Incredible," she muttered, piecing it together. The design was similar to dwarven and goblin siege weapons but far more refined. Now that she studied them more closely, she realized these must be what the reports had called "barrels" ¡ª though they were far more sophisticated than the crude description had suggested. Whatever powered these weapons ¡ª be it their strange equivalent to explosion magic or something else entirely ¡ª was far more sophisticated than anything their diminutive rivals had created.


    But these smaller weapons were overshadowed by something that made even Vyrrasha pause. Larger contraptions, similar to the ones she''d seen devastating her front lines, but fundamentally different. These had broader, far lengthier barrels ¡ª at least three men laid end-to-end in length ¡ª and as she continued to study these metal monsters, she saw a radical change.


    These contraptions slowly adjusted the position of their barrels, lifting skyward at a steep angle instead of orienting them towards the frontlines. It was as if they were¡­ mimicking the smaller siege weapons next to them but on an entirely different scale. If the smaller tubes could unleash such a power that could crush one of their positions, these larger monstrosities looked as if they were going to shatter the realm itself.


    That was when the realization hit her like a physical blow. "Eternal hells," she breathed, watching as another one fired. The blast was so tremendous that the behemoth rock backed backward from the force of its own attack. "They''re turning this entire elevation into a fortress of these damned things!"


    The Duchess¡¯ eyes started darting all over the place, scanning all over place until she saw more of these metal behemoths crawling up onto the elevated terrain. The ones that already made the climb took up a position and raised their massive barrel skyward. Soldiers scurried around them like ants, setting up their position to prepare for their own barrage. The thought of it all made Vyrrasha''s stomach turn.


    She had planned for the worst-case scenario. She had accepted that they would be slowly crushed under the weight of another world and built her entire strategy around that position. But this... this was beyond even her darkest predictions. Her eyes began to swim with barely contained panic as her teeth ground against each other when the full implications became clear.


    "This is disastrous," she hissed, her voice tight with rage. "This is absolutely disastrous!" She turned sharply to her supreme general, Maldro. "Sound the retreat! Now!"


    Maldro''s face contorted in confusion. "Your Grace, we still have significant assets in the area. We could hold them long enough for the other echelons to¡ª"


    "You don''t understand," Vyrrasha cut him off, her tail lashing out in agitation, slamming into the thick marble table and crushing it inhalf. "These damned otherworlders ¡ª no, these monsters ¡ª they''re going to methodically blast every inch of dirt step-by-step as they advance with these infernal contraptions! They''ll level everything in their path." She gestured wildly at the scrying sphere. "Look at how they operate! They don''t seek battle ¡ª they seek annihilation! Every position we try to hold will end up like that first line of defense!"


    Her claws dug into the table again. "We need to reformulate our strategy in its entirety. Everything we knew about warfare, about holding ground ¡ª it''s useless against weapons like these. We need to adapt, and quickly." The admission seemed to pain her physically. "We need to recenter our defenses around Anburry and use Glennsworth to properly sustain a new frontline or we won''t survive long enough to¡ª¡±


    Vyrrasha stopped mid-sentence when she caught on something in the scrying sphere out of the corner of her peripheral vision. One of the smaller contraptions with countless wheels was orienting what looked like a small barrel skyward. Unlike the massive tubes meant for bombardment, this looked more¡­ purposeful.


    And it was aimed directly at the spirit eagle.


    A series of rapid and angry bright flashes erupted from the thing, causing half of the scrying sphere to flicker violently before winking out of existence. A heartbeat later, a shrill scream pierced the air as she clutched at her dominant eye while blood streamed between her fingers. She collapsed backward, writhing in agony from the magical backlash of her spirit eagle''s destruction.


    "Healers!" Anke shouted, already moving toward the fallen woman. "They can see our eagles," he added grimly, looking back at Vyrrasha. "Even at that height."


    Vyrrasha''s face twisted into a rage-filled snarl as she looked down at the writhing diviner. After a few moments of observing, her head then snapped toward Maldro whwile flames licked between her teeth as she spoke. "You dare question me?" She advanced on him, her claws flexing as if she were to swipe at his neck. The general took an instinctive step back as the Duchess loomed over him while her tail whipped violently through the air.


    "Question my judgment again¡­" she hissed, bringing her face inches from his, "and I will personally remove every appendage you have and roast you slowly to feed to the wyverns. Now. Order. The. RETREAT!"


    "Y-yes, Your Grace!" Maldro bowed deeply, his voice trembling as he backed toward the door before turning and practically running from the room.


    Taking a moment to calm down a little, Vyrrasha turned back to the diviner and watched dispassionately as the woman screamed and clutched at what remained of her liquified eye. Her lips curled into a dangerous sneer as she addressed her aides. "Fetch the Dragonkin healers. I want their eyes repaired immediately." Her voice dropped to a menacing growl. "We''re going to need them."


    After her aides nodded and scurried out, the Duchess whipped around and stormed out of the control center. As she passed through the entrance, her thrashing tail caught the damaged door and splintered the ornate woodwork down, ripping it completely from its remaining hinges. A resounding crash echoed through the corridors like thunder, and she made her way down the hallway.

 Cloaks and Daggers: Chapter 108

    It was a bright, sunny morning, and Elijah found himself perched on a creaky wooden crate just inside Glennsworth¡¯s western gate. The early sun painted the entrance in dusty gold stripes that shimmered across the well-maintained stone roads, where countless carriages streamed in like an unending tide.


    However, today''s traffic was markedly different from the usual humble peasants trodding around in poorly constructed carts or the variety pack of both impoverished and opulent merchants. Gone were the patched linen tunics and modest cloaks of the usual travelers. Instead, they were replaced by polished armor and dress uniforms bearing Imperial insignias.


    Digging into a small sack on his lap, Elijah pulled out two still-steaming muffins that looked like they belonged in a London bakery, let alone some fantasy land. He handed one to Yana, who sat perched next to him on the crate, unconsciously mimicking his casual posture right down to the way her tiny legs dangled over the edge. In perfect sync, they both took a bite and let out appreciative hums as their faces scrunched in delight at the unexpected quality.


    As they enjoyed their breakfast, chaos seemed to reign as Imperial soldiers hustled, haranguing and barking orders at town guards while shoving the citizenry aside or outright threatening them. Elijah, on the other hand, remained deliberately oblivious to it all. To anyone watching, he was just another layabout trying to dodge work and played the part perfectly. Everything about him screamed that Elijah was just another lazy idiot. From the way he slouched against the wall with indifference to his eyes, he casually flicked to anything and everything interesting happening around him.


    Imperial logistics had forcibly and aggressively commandeered the expedited merchant lanes, causing no small amount of grief for the regulars who found their usual routes blocked. Even the wealthier silk-garbed merchants were forced to take the general road, and to Elijah¡¯s delight,  they entered the town absolutely seething. This was especially true when he saw that the enchanted cranes the merchants used to offload goods onto a strange, manual labor-powered rail system were all occupied by said imperials.


    Adding to how heavily the classes were defined here. Off to the side were a few less fortunate souls struggling under the weight of their goods while enduring the "routine inspections" that always ended with coins changing hands. And at the heart of it all was Garrik and his crew, finessing the poor bastards trying to strip out every bit of value he possibly could just out of eyeshot of imperial officers.


    ¡°Bold son of a bitch.¡± Elijah couldn¡¯t help but chuckle as he took another bite of his muffin. It never ceased to amuse him how, no matter where it existed in reality, whether it be this one or his own, nothing ever seemed to change when it came to the lower rungs of society.


    While peering around the corner, Garrik glanced toward the Imperials with disdain until he happened to glance in Elijah''s direction and did a double-take. The guard captain''s face twisted in bafflement and then annoyance as he marched over with his hands on his hips. Before Garril could speak, however, Elijah casually reached into his burlap sack and tossed him a muffin.


    The guard captain fumbled with the unexpected projectile, the still-warm pastry bouncing between his hands like a hot potato before he finally secured it. With a growl, Garrik fixed Elijah with a glare but took a bite anyway. "What in the hells are you doing here?" he demanded with full mouth. "Ye look  like some lazy lout trying to skip out on work."


    His eyes then flicked to Yana as a difficult look flickered across his face. Pixies weren''t unheard of in these parts, but they were rare enough to draw notice and noticeable enough to stay away from them. They were annoying, pesterous little things that brought no end of pranks or trouble, but something about this one felt... different. Ominous, even.


    "That''s the point," Elijah said casually, ripping Garrik''s eyes from Yana and back to him. "I''m waiting on some folks." He pointed lazily at Garrik. "And you''re gonna let them in."


    About of silence ensued as Garrik stared at Elijah as if the demand took him aback. "What?" The town guard spat out in confusion. "Who in the world said that?"


    "I did," Elijah replied with a slight grin.


    "I won''t let them in for free," Garrik shot back, trying to establish some control over the situation.


    Elijah chuckled as he gestured at the corrupt guard. "Don''t be silly. I already paid you."


    "That was just an access fee-" Garrik started, but Elijah cut him off.


    "Nuh-uh," Elijah cut him off with a widening grin. "I''m not some bright-eyed idiot. That¡¯s not gonna fly with me,¡± he said, leaning in with a devious smile. ¡°I know better.¡±


    Just as those words left Elijah¡¯s mouth, Garrik felt the air grow thin and inhaled deeply as if he''d climbed to a mountain''s peak in the span of a heartbeat. The world seemed to tilt ever so slightly, throwing off his balance in a subtle yet unmistakable way. He tried to maintain eye contact with Elijah and maintain some semblance of control of the situation, but something in the man''s eyes gave him pause. Deep within Elijah''s eyes was an almost imperceptible violet swirl. Something that shouldn''t have been with any man¡¯s eyes.


    "You get paid more when you provide value," Elijah¡¯s voice carried a weight that seemed to press down on Garrik''s shoulders.


    Garrik''s eyes widened when Elijah''s presence suddenly took a sinister shift. He wore an identical predatory grin as the pixie next to him. The wombo combo of such an ominous aura and being called out like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar caused the guard captain''s usual assertiveness to crumble. Whatever bravado or leverage he thought he had evaporated in an instant.


    Trying to find a retort, Garrik''s mouth opened and closed several times, but none come. He attempted to mask his unease with indignation, but before he could let loose some barbs, a voices called out from behind him.


    "What''s going on here?"


    Nearly jumping out his skin, Garrik spun around to find an Imperial soldier and mage standing behind him. The soldier had his halberd planted in the ground, leaning against his shoulder but ready to move at a moment''s notice. Despite his deceptively readied stance, the imperial face carried a deeply annoyed expression that spoke of someone who''d been dragged somewhere against their will.


    "My... colleague," the soldier said with obvious disdain, "believes there''s mana usage in this area."


    Garrik gave them a bewildered look, but before he could respond, Elijah jumped in.


    "Sir!" Elijah''s voice had transformed completely, now carrying a panicked, servile tone. "The guard here doesn''t believe I''m on break! I''m allowed at least ten minutes ¡ª it''s only fair! They''re working us to the bone, and-"


    The Imperial soldier raised his hand sharply. "Shut up," he snapped, clearly at the end of his patience. "I don''t care." He turned to the mage, disgust evident on his face. "You dragged me out here for this? Some peasants on fucking break? Waste of my damn time." He stormed off, leaving the flustered mage to hurry after him.


    "I wasn''t talking about the peasants, you gods damned idiot!" the mage called out, his ornate robes fluttering as he chased after his companion through the growing crowd of imperial soldiers. "There''s some asshole leaking mana all over the place here!"


    "I don''t fucking care!" the soldier''s voice carried back through the sea of polished armor and crisp uniforms. "Do you know how many mana users and magical chucklefucks are in this backwater shithole?"


    As Garrik watched the two Imperials disappear into a mix of their comrades in their gleaming plate and a mass of auxiliary troops in their distinctive red-trimmed uniforms, he couldn''t help but admire the genius of what just transpired. The redirection had been masterful - so natural that if Garrik hadn''t been bargaining with Elijah, he''d have believed the act himself. After all, who would want to get involved in something as insufferably mundane as a worker being harassed by their superior? It was the perfect smokescreen ¡ª even the mage''s protests about mana usage seemed ridiculous in the context of a simple labor dispute. The Imperials had bigger concerns than breaking up a petty argument over break times, especially with how many actual mages and magical artifacts were streaming through the gates today.


    When he turned back, Garrik saw Elijah¡¯s mischievous yet dangerous smirk plastered all over his face, but that unsettling violet swirl in his eyes had completely vanished. Not only that, but the pixie had gone back to munching on her impossible large portion of muffin, utterly disinterested in his existence as if he were nothing more than another dirty crate.


    For a moment, Garrik heavily considered that maybe he''d imagined it all. He had gone a bit overboard at Madam Leela''s establishment last night, drinking more of that cheap wine than he should have while sampling some of her equally cheap offerings. The headache still lingering behind his eyes certainly wasn''t helping his clarity. Perhaps that strange violet swirl in Elijah''s eyes had just been a trick of the light or his mind playing tricks on him.


    He glanced over his shoulder again, searching for the two Imperials in the crowd. The sea of polished armor and red-trimmed uniforms had swallowed them completely, leaving no trace of the exchange that had just occurred. Just another mundane incident in a day full of them.


    Straightening himself, Garrik tugged at his armor and uniform, the leather creaking as he adjusted the straps. The morning sun caught on his medallion that signified his rank while the guard captain took another look at Elijah as if reappraising him. Maybe he really had imagined the strange aura and those violet eyes, but he couldn¡¯t shake that something was unnerving about the man. There was¡­ something about this man that reminded him of Indi. While not exactly alike, it was quite obvious that Elijah and that demon in sheep''s clothing were cut from the same cloth.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "There will be five carts coming in," Elijah¡¯s words jarred Garrik from his thoughts. "You''re going to let them and everyone accompanying those carts through."


    Garrick¡¯s earlier bluster had completely vanished as he remained silent and listened to Elijah''s instructions, which carried all the hallmarks of someone who knew they were in control. The guard captain wasn¡¯t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew when to hold them and when to fold them. And right now, Garrik knew he was in no position to press for any more than what he already got.


    As the hustle and l bustle of the gate echoed around them, Elijah continued. "You''ll know the carts by the red chevron pointing upwards on each of them." He instructed while tracing the shape in the air with his finger, the morning light catching on a ring he wore that Garrik hadn''t noticed before. "When they arrive, you will speak only to the person making initial contact. Nothing more." His voice took on an edge that made the guard captain''s spine stiffen. "The rear of each cart will have sacks of food and water. You will not inspect beyond those supplies. Are we clear?"


    An indignant scowl formed on Garrik¡¯s face as he held Elijah''s gaze. After a few long moments of their staring contest, the guard captain finally looked away and finally nodded in capitulation. "What I gotta do for more coin?" he asked gruffly, his tone carrying the wounded pride of someone unused to being on the back foot.


    Elijah''s smirk widened. "Depends on how well this goes. Lot of big moves being made in this town." He leaned back slightly, showing off a casual confidence before point at Garrik. "Play your cards right, and we''re talking gold, not silver."


    The word ¡°gold¡¯ caught Garrik''s attention. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath while his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What kinda moves?"


    "That''s none of your business," Elijah replied with a shrug. "Not yet anyway. Do well enough, and it will be."


    Garrik glanced back toward the gate where his men were still shaking down merchants. He thought about his position. He thought about the endless days of extorting petty bribes from travelers, kicking up most of his earnings to his superiors, living on scraps while dodging imperial oversight. The promise of something bigger, something better, pulled at him even as his instincts screamed danger. But at the same time, his instincts also screamed that this might be his only chance to escape this mundane hellscape.


    "I''ll see your folks in," he muttered, already turning away. He headed back toward his crew, who were still arguing with a merchant about the day''s "inspection fees," leaving Elijah and his unsettling companion behind.


    While approaching his post, Garrik found himself to be uncharacteristically measured. His usual sleazy smirk was replaced by something more contemplative as his eyes swept across the gate area. This gate was considered the least burdened, and it was still absolutely swarming with Imperials who remained oblivious to whatever he was doing, content with just trying to get their logistics sorted. However, the fact that they were both preoccupied and disinterested in the town guard¡¯s duty didn¡¯t mean Garrik wasn¡¯t bothered by their proximity.


    Everywhere the guard captain looked beside this shoddy section of the gate were Auxileries rushing to load or offload goods while elite regulars prowled the streets as if they owned them ¡ª which, technically, they did. Officers in their crisp uniforms barked orders at local craftsmen, demanding bulk goods for insultingly low prices, while a nearby blacksmith practically kowtowed before a young lieutenant who berated him about production quotas.


    The same dismal scene played out no matter where Garrik looked. There weren¡¯t many artisans or traders at the gate, so he could only imagine what the entire town looked like. Whatever was going on, it must have been absolutely gigantic. The Imperial quartermasters were commandeering every warehouse for ¡°military necessity,¡± tossing out the stored goods and replacing them with Imperial supplies. Wagon after wagon of raw materials rolled in while finished goods streamed out, the town''s resources being bled dry by the Empire''s war machine. The locals kept their heads down, careful to show proper deference to their occupiers.


    Even though he was born in this gods-forsaken backwater, Garrik couldn''t care less about the townsfolk¡¯s suffering ¡ª it just wasn''t his problem. But what did concern him was the stranglehold these lizard-lovers had on his own operations. It was hard to shake down merchants when the Empire squeezed them dry. Everything was significantly harder when Imperial eyes were everywhere, even though they didn¡¯t care enough to pay attention. It meant he had to be more careful about his "fees."


    "Oi, Mira!" Garrik called out as he approached the inspection station, "What''s taking so damn long with this one?" he growled as he glared at a tall, muscular beastkin woman.


    The grey fur of the guard¡¯s long wolf-like ears and tail bristled visibly as she gestured animatedly at a well-dressed merchant before snapping around towards Garrik. Her mouth flapped for a few moments as her gaze rapidly between the agitated merchant who was fidgeting with his silk cuffs.


    "T-this pompous prick keeps arguing about the inspection fee," Mira hands smacked down on the weathered desk wedged against the gate''s wall as her sharp canines flashed in the morning light. "Says he usually takes the express lane and doesn¡¯t want to pay!" The way she emphasized ''usually'' dripped with contempt as her tail lashed behind her.


    A deep sigh left Garrik¡¯s mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that was starting to form. Part of him just wanted to wave the merchant through and be done with it ¡ª it wasn''t worth the hassle. But he knew better. Word would spread throughout the seemingly endless queue faster than gossip in a tavern, and soon, they''d all be pushing back against his "fees." No, better to make an example of this one and remind them all how things worked, even with the Imperials lurking about.


    "Well, he ain''t in the express lane now, is he?" Garrik circled around the merchant''s carriage, deliberately invading the merchant''s personal space. The man tried to puff up and make himself seem more imposing than he actually was. Over by the main gate, Imperial soldiers in their polished armor in the express lane bullied merchants like this one to slum it with the poors. "Having trouble understanding the new procedures, are we?"


    The merchant looked Garrik up and down while straightening his expensive jacket. "I pay good coin for expedited service-"


    "You paid good coin," Garrik cut him off, one hand casually resting on his sword hilt as he gestured toward a commotion near the express lane. A group of Imperial soldiers were roughing up someone who looked substantially wealthy while their quartermaster methodically emptied his wagons. "Different management now." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Course, we could always ask them to do a thorough inspection.¡±


    A cruel smile graced Garriks face when he saw the merchants visibly panic as one of his peers was stripped clean of everything he brought into town. ¡°See how well that worked out for him?¡± Garrik continued with glint in his eye. ¡°They''re very interested in merchant manifests these days. Making sure everything''s properly taxed for the war effort and all that."


    Mira''s pointed ears perked up as she caught on, and revealed her own sharp toothed, sadistic smile. She shuffled through his papers with exaggerated care. "Oh yeah, very thorough inspection¡­  They¡¯ll unpack everything, and check it all against this requisition lists..." Her sharp nail tapped meaningfully against the merchant''s manifest. "The Empire''s always looking for more... contributions."


    "And drom the looks of it," Garrik added with false sympathy, watching sweat bead on the merchant''s brow despite the cool morning air, "you''ve got quite a lot they might find... useful. Silks, spices, exotic furs¡­ all luxury items that could be repurposed for the war. But I''m sure a proper patriot and businessman like yourself wouldn''t mind supporting our troops."


    The merchant''s face went through several interesting colors before he reached for his coin purse. "Perhaps we could come to a more... expedient arrangement?" He said with a shaking voice, trying to be subtle about grabbing at his coin purse despite his shaking hands.


    "Now that''s what I like to hear," Garrik grinned, knocking his knuckles on the merchant''s carriage. "Much easier than having the quartermasters inventory everything, wouldn''t you say? Mira, help the good merchant with his documentation, yeah?"


    "With pleasure," she replied with her mouth full of teeth and malicious cheer as she extended her hand for the coin. "Always happy to help a patriot avoid unnecessary delays."


    Garrik gave out a rather wicked huff of amusement as the portly merchant fumbled with his satchel, causing the coins to jingle loudly. Looking over at his men clustered unnecessarily around the gate, he clapped his hands sharply. "Oi! Why''re you lot standing ''round with yer thumbs up yer arses? Go et these poor bastards movin''! Time is money!"


    His men scrambled out the gate to start pre-emptively shaking down the folks coming through while a few remained to maintain the bottleneck. Satisfied with what he saw, Garrik walked out past the gate, squinting against the morning sun as he surveyed the endless queue of carriages, wagons, and peasants stretching into the distance. He was about to turn back when something caught his eye.


    Off in the distance were five carts, each marked with a red chevron pointing skyward, exactly as described. Garrik felt his heart skip a beat and then start hammering against his ribs. They were a fair way back in the queue, but even at this distance, something about the group set them apart.


    They wore peasant clothes and blended in with the rest of the rabble, but something was off. They are too well-fed for common folk, their shoulders are too broad, and their posture is too straight. Most telling was how aware they were as the individuals scanned their surroundings, heads moving in subtle patterns and in different directions. These weren''t farmers or merchants ¡ª these were more akin to actual professional and veteran freelancers on protection duty.


    It was not the usual rabble-rousing thug that was the majority of those mercenary types.


    Garrik swallowed hard. These were the carts he was supposed to wave in and pretend to inspect, but he couldn¡¯t help but wonder what was exactly in them to warrant this level of protection.


    "Mira!" Garrik called out, watching as the beastkin finished dumping the merchant''s "donation" into a small chest they kept on the inspection desk.


    The woman¡¯s pointed ears swiveled toward him before she jogged over. "Yeah, boss?"


    "See those carts?" He nodded toward the distant convoy with the red chevrons. "Tell the boys to let ''em through. No shakedowns, no questions, nothing. Just wave ''em on."


    Mira''s eyes narrowed as she studied the group, her nose twitching slightly. "You sure? They look like easy marks-"


    "Just do it. They already paid their fair ahead of time." Garrik cut her off sharply. "And make sure everyone knows ¡ª those carts don''t exist as far as we''re concerned. They come up, they go through. Simple as that."


    Her tail twitched in curiosity, but she knew better than to press. "Yes, boss. I''ll spread the word."


    Garrik watched her trot off to inform the rest of his crew as his mind had already worked through how to handle this without drawing Imperial attention. Those weren''t ordinary travelers in those carts, and he had a feeling this was just the beginning of whatever game his patron was playing.


    But regardless of what it was, Garrik knew a calamity was coming in some fashion.