The sun had barely crested the treetops when Inigo eased the Apache’s cyclic stick forward, coaxing the massive attack helicopter into a slow, deliberate lift. The rotors roared as they bit into the air, dust and leaves scattering from the clearing below like panicked birds.
He was flying.
"Goddamn..." he muttered, half in awe, half disbelief. His gloved hand tightened slightly on the controls.
The Apache AH-64E was sleek, matte black, and brimming with raw power. Twin engines flared behind him, and the cockpit, modified slightly by the System to run solo, responded to his every input like an extension of his will. Onboard HUDs glowed faint green, feeding him real-ti data—altitude, radar sweeps, weapon systems, even wind pressure.
He’d spent the night in the forest clearing to avoid questions. Even Lyra didn’t know what he’d summoned—only that he needed "space."
Now he had it.
Trees blurred below as the Apache soared over the Emberreach foothills, the landscape shifting from forest green to charcoal black as he pushed toward a more barren stretch beyond the main valley. He needed open ground for testing—and far from civilization. The last thing he needed was panic over a "tal dragon" flying overhead.
He banked left, watching the shadows roll across the glassy volcanic plains far below. The whole region looked like a battlefield long after the battle was lost—scorched, cracked, and cratered. Perfect for weapons testing.
The HUD pinged. Systems online. Hellfire missiles, Hydra 70 rockets, 30mm chain gun—all operational.
"Let’s see what you can do," he said under his breath.
He spotted a rocky basin below—a wide, empty depression with enough space to maneuver. He throttled down slightly, letting the Apache descend to a safer test altitude.
"Firing practice—rockets only," he muttered, reaching for the armant control. The targeting system locked onto a cluster of boulders.
"Hydra pods, ripple fire. Range... seven hundred ters."
He squeezed the trigger.
FWOOOOOSH!
Two pods of Hydra 70 rockets scread from beneath the wings, streaking down in arcs that lit up the dull sky like fireworks.
The explosion rocked the crater.
Flas rolled across the rocks. Dust and shattered stone burst into the air. The noise echoed off the highlands like a thunderclap.
"Hell yeah," Inigo whispered.
He swung wide, watching the smoke clear. Black scorch marks peppered the basin, but nothing remained standing. Just twisted tal, cracked stone, and drifting dust.
He wasn’t smiling, though. It wasn’t for fun.
It was preparation.
If a red dragon was going to burn kingdoms to ash, then he needed every edge he could muster. Swords and enchanted arrows weren’t going to cut it. The Apache, however—this was sothing else.
He circled once more and shifted to the 30mm cannon.
The targeting reticle followed his head movent thanks to the helt interface. He spotted another rock cluster on a higher ridge and dialed in.
"Cannon fire. Range... five hundred."
BRRRRRRRT.
The chin-mounted chain gun spat fury in three-second bursts. The rounds tore through the ridge like a buzzsaw through parchnt. Stone cracked, dirt kicked up, and the ridge fractured under the relentless barrage.
The echoes faded slowly, swallowed by the wind and distance.
He exhaled.
"Still operational, ammo readouts stable, hydraulics green. She’s perfect."
Then, the radar pinged.
Sothing moved in the far northwest quadrant—barely a blip, but enough for the Apache’s motion sensors to register it. Roughly man-sized. Heat signature spiking.
"What the hell..."
He turned the bird.
At first, he saw nothing. Just more charred terrain and broken ridgelines.
Then he spotted it.
Three figures lumbering across a shattered hill, maybe four hundred ters out. Humanoid, but huge—easily seven feet tall, and bulky like bodybuilders wrapped in leather and bones. Their gait was wrong. Not beast-like, but not fully human either. One of them dragged a crude iron weapon—too big to be a sword, too blunt for a cleaver. Their skin was a dull greenish-brown, mottled with thick scars.
Inigo narrowed his eyes.
"Orcs?" he muttered, uncertain. He’d read about them in guild records, but never seen one.
One of the creatures pointed toward the sky.
They’d noticed him.
The Apache was far above, but its presence was unmistakable.
The lead orc roared—he could hear it even up here, faintly, like distant thunder. The others followed suit, lifting their weapons and shaking fists at the sky.
Hostile? Probably.
He dropped the Apache lower, just within optimal range.
"Let’s see what you are."
They broke into a run—not away, but toward a jagged ridge that sloped sharply upward. Trying to flank? Hide? Hard to tell from this height.
Inigo toggled the cannon again.
Targeting data fed into the HUD. Range: 320 ters. Wind negligible. Elevation shift minimal.
The reticle locked onto the lead orc.
He hesitated.
"Do I really want to waste ammo on three stragglers?"
Then again, letting monsters roam near Ironmark wasn’t exactly smart either.
He gave the trigger a light squeeze.
BRRRRT.
The 30mm burst hit the hill like a warhamr.
One orc vanished in a cloud of shattered stone. The other two flung themselves into a trench, vanishing behind black rock.
"Fast reactions," he murmured.
Smoke curled from the crater he’d just made. No visible movent. But the radar still pinged two signatures.
He circled lower. Just to be sure.
That’s when sothing hit the bottom of the Apache.
CLANG!
A rock? No—a javelin. It bounced off the armor plating, useless, but enough to shock him.
"They’re throwing things at a helicopter? Seriously?"
Another javelin whizzed past the rotor blades and missed by ters.
"Alright. You want to play?"
He toggled the Hydra pods.
"Two shots. One each. Let’s see you dodge this."
He circled wide again and let the rockets fly.
FWOOOOOSH!
Twin streams of fire carved through the sky. One exploded midair—intercepted by sothing, maybe flying debris. The other struck just short of the trench.
Dust engulfed the area.
The radar ping blinked once—then flatlined.
Inigo circled one final ti. The crater was blackened and silent.
No movent.
"Threat neutralized," he said quietly.
He angled the nose south and climbed altitude, pulling away from the wreckage. As the burning ridge shrank behind him, a strange feeling crept over him.
He hadn’t even felt like he was in danger—but there was still a rush. Power. Control.
But also... distance.
He hadn’t seen their faces. He didn’t know what they’d said before charging. He didn’t know if they were hunting, patrolling, or just lost.
All he saw were red pings and movent.
He adjusted the comms.
"Note to self," he muttered. "Better recon before opening fire next ti."
The Apache banked back toward the forest clearing.
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