No Anomalies During Operation (9)
A pair of wings unfurled to either side, trailing a long tail of flames behind it, and the red dragon Aterugar came rocketing toward them. Deadly flames brewed in her half-open maw, belching gray smoke.
After all that back-and-forth about coming or not, she shows up after all. Not sure if she could see me, but I waved anyway.
Aterugar shot past overhead and unleashed a direct blast of fiery breath at the reed thicket. The blinding flash forced me to shield my eyes with my hand. Even from this distance, the heat felt like it was cooking my flesh.
Sweeping her breath across the ground like a broom, Aterugar soared into the sky and banked in a wide turn. Then she looped back, blasting even harder this time.
"Nice! Good job, Red!"
The reed field that had plagued forward command for so long vanished in mere seconds, reduced to steam. The red dragon's flames were said to be the hottest in the world. Aterugar's breath would have scorched the earth meters deep, turning it into barren wasteland where nothing would grow for years.
With the job done, Aterugar didn't even bother looking for me before flying off westward. I had to move out myself right away, so I left my outpost without delay.
Or at least, that's what I planned—until I realized the next spot was a problem. Aterugar had torched everything so thoroughly that I'd have to cross a stretch of scorching ground. Sure, any burns would heal fast, but hot was hot, and I hated it.
After a moment's thought, I drew the Holy Sword. It wasn't a technique I used often, but time was tight.
A pure white light ignited along the blade, racing up the hilt, my arm, and enveloping my whole body. From afar, I'd look like some new race with glowing skin.
This was the same power I'd used back when I'd turned into a kid and tried to kill Mideronde. Channeling the sword's hyper-condensed holy power like armor or muscle made me invincible while active. And it let me move at unbelievable speeds.
I stepped onto the rooftop railing, holy power cloaking me, and the railing crumbled like a cookie. Aiming for the ravine ahead, I kicked off and launched forward.
In some outpost in the buffer zone, two legion soldiers were on watch duty. They weren't scanning the front as ordered—they were staring at the sky, hoping for shooting stars. The ancient superstition said wishes made on falling stars came true, and they were putting it to the test.
Their wish was simple: discharge with all limbs intact. Legion troops from other areas might scoff, but for those in the Lucia buffer zone, it was desperate enough to warrant begging the stars.
Daily skirmishes, skies lit with attack spells, and booby-trap magic that exploded on missteps, ripping off lower bodies. The buffer zone crawled with threats to legion lives.
One soldier, puffing frosty breath in the biting cold, suddenly shot up his hand.
"Sergeant! There! Shooting star!"
"Where? Oh?!"
A streak of white light hurtled from where the private pointed. The sergeant wished quick at first, thinking it a shooting star—but something felt off. Normal shooting stars twinkled high in the night sky and streaked away. This one flew low and level, straight across the horizon.
No shooting star did that.
"Attack spell...?!"
Debating whether to sound the alarm, the mystery light blasted past the outpost at insane speed. Watching the fading afterimage trail away, the private decided to wish anyway. Mysterious or not, it might work.
Then the sergeant smacked the private's helmeted head down.
"You idiot! Sound the alarm!!"
The military command ops room was on the brink of meltdown. Reports poured in, mages shouted, headaches pounded.
"0th Legion, outpost 00 spots unidentified white light!"
"No, not 00—it's XX outpost!"
"Outpost ㅁㅁ reports similar sighting! Requesting friend-or-foe ID!"
Staff marked spots on the map per reports, but they came too fast to keep up. Sightings strung north-to-south along the buffer zone border.
"What the hell is this...? Does anything move that fast?"
Staffers repeated the same baffled question.
Gobert sat silently, staring at the marked points. Connecting them extended a line straight to the Bacomore tunnel fortress.
"Report! Light spotted at OO-X outpost!"
As a staffer marked the X near the fortress, Gobert shot to his feet.
"Mages on standby at 00 Battalion—attack the tunnel fortress now!"
"00 Battalion mages commencing tunnel fortress attack!"
Staff echoed and relayed instantly. Why the sudden obedience? First, reports of seizing three Bacomore combat outposts. Then, a red dragon torching the 00 Valley reeds. Outposts were one thing, but how did the commander predict the dragon's path? Staffers couldn't fathom it.
But awe would soon follow doubt.
'No idea what it is, but royals are on another level.' The thought settled in.
Gobert's order flashed out. Dozens of mages from the 00 Battalion guarding the tunnel sector unleashed attack spells in unison.
Nearly flying along, I spotted beams arcing through the sky ahead. Gobert had timed the attack perfectly.
The high-flying spells plummeted, slamming wildly into the massive hill. Counter-spells fired back from spots on the mountain. That was the tunnel fortress, carved right into the hill.
I adjusted course slightly toward it. The approaching slope bristled with long holes, crossbows and siege gear poking out.
Bacomore troops spotted me and went berserk, unleashing hell—man-sized bolts, quarrels, attack spells. They hit my holy power shroud and vaporized harmlessly. Unhindered, I slammed body-first into the fortress.
"Gah...!"
One mage at battalion HQ's watchtower, blasting spells nonstop, froze with mouth agape.
The tunnel fortress, battered by indiscriminate magic, collapsed in a monstrous roar. Debris swept sideways, kicking up a dust cloud dwarfing the hill itself—the Bacomore assembly area.
"Th-that...?"
"Gods... Goddess preserve us..."
One mage's legs gave out. Others gaped, stunned. How could the impregnable fortress of decades fall to mere mage spells...?
Soon the collapse-born dust storm engulfed battalion HQ.
It took ages for the massive dust storm to settle. Once it did, I shook off the grime coating my shoulders and head.
Glancing at my limbs—no major damage. Back when I first became a hero, this technique nearly killed me. Guess I didn't waste the last decade.
Looking back, the hole I'd punched through the fortress was now a massive dirt pile. The landslide had sealed the ravine perfectly. No more Bacomore forces maneuvering through here anytime soon. Not that they had any ready anyway.
I'd landed smack in their assembly ground—the one Gobert flagged in ops, swarming with red banners. Nothing stood intact. Half crushed by my impact shockwave, the rest buried in the landslide.
Bacomore wouldn't threaten the capital or legions for a while. And Gobert would solidify his command cred.
Time to head back. Tell that Gobert punk to have fried chicken and cold beer ready for a midnight snack.