The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 946

Chapter 946: Sky conquest

‘My answer,’ a ray of light flickered, ‘-is to have dominion over the skies, an idea I had so many years ago, a secret project we were able to finish.’

“This is it?” interjected Marie, “-the project éclair haunted me about, the no-name flying thing...”

“Yeah, it’s no ordinary thing, with the equipment it carries, we’ll have a view over the world – reaching far and wide. Antenna and receptors can only carry the signals so far. Our technology current, as the world experiences is more than enough. Information transmitted by mana waves is able to carry across the continent without so much fading. Trouble arises when source and recipient are cut – leads to chaos, and the waves are then forced to bounce until death. This, on the other hand, has the ability to pinpoint and guide said waves.”

“I get the process, what of the reason?”

“For world domination.”

“You jest?”

“Yeah,” he glanced through the protective glass onto an opposing room of researchers and renowned scholars. All under Phantom’s payroll and employed at the university for cover, “-Cobalt Unit’s shown consistency and grit.”

.....

*Launch in three minutes,* glared an on the nose red signal. It blinked with mild screeches.

“Will it end the war?” inquired an excited Marie.

“The battle, yes,” they circled to the command room, “-the war, not so much. Remember, we’re fighting a holy crusade. Victory by theological means often comes to a single point – consistency. Doesn’t matter if weapons, lives, or whatever is lost – long as the defending faction keeps strong to their beliefs, an answer will be reached sooner or later.”

They arrived at a darkened room of many screens and many o’ scholars. An open glass showed the object in question, a press dulled said light and invoked a blacker curtain. On second thoughts considering security, if something went wrong – all personnel would hastily meet the death reaper. A health and safety hazard overlocked on pride and honor pertaining to a magical barrier. Igna and Marie waited at the top of the descending array of tables and chairs – the countdown ticked into single digits. A slow rumble ran through the floor, into the soles, and up the body. Marie glanced, “-this is exciting,” said a childish glee.

“Mark the date,” mumbled Igna, “-25th of May,” rumbled turned tremors – noise and light were immediately blocked to provide security. Zero, read the screen, tremors amplified into indistinguishable vibration, no up and down, for at the rate it shook, one could but feel the weight and speed.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t worry,” he pushed against the wall and moved to a command desk, “-good news people,” he said into a local microphone, “-we have taken off.” Screen flickered to a camera following the projectile, a trial of pure white pulled into the skies.

“A reverse shooting star,” commented one of the newer recruits.

In a time of chaos and mistrust, Igna achieved a goal set long ago, to monopolize the sky. Calculations ran in tandem, checks and cross checks, real fight just began and at the helm, dawning a headset as his helmet. Wherein people did complex mathematical calculations using the sister system, he sat in his chair and gave the answers on top of his head, all of which were accurate to the designated decimal point.

“What kind of man is he,” inquired one, a sterner gray-haired gentleman sat further up, “-Marie?”

“Our king,” she replied, keeping a familiar childish glee, “-why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” he looked and pressed the forehead, “-it amazes me how a young man has such intellect. I’d label him a genius if I had the right...”

“Doctor Ain, don’t sell yourself too short,” she smiled, “-without your expertise, many advancements in the astronomical field wouldn’t have been possible.”

“No need for compliments,” he added modestly, “-an old man knows his limits far too well to be discouraged. Today’s an event the world should celebrate, we’re the first nation to send a man-made craft into space, we’ve conquered the skies. Still, I can’t help but feel lost and underwhelmed. War,” he shook his head, “-illogical thinking leads to massacre and unnecessary loss.”

Midnight pushed the 25th into the 26th. Invisible lights in the human spectrum glared on stationed marksmen’s scope. An order immediately hammered against Erano’s listless night, “a company of enemy units spotted at Sibling’ Range,” said the urgent call. Palms against the desk, Erano soon found himself jogging through the colder night – barely able to keep a steady footing on accounts of the frozen walkways.

“Attention,” he entered his unit’s quarters, “-a company’s been spotted. To arms everyone, those ready for a fight – make way north and hold, we’re defending, not attacking. Settle yourself, men, for we’re facing an invasion.” Central ordered Erano’s troupes to march for Kreston’s capital. Remaining 3400 men separated, allowing only 200, including the Erano, to remain. Rest was placed under the duke’s command, albeit until reinforcement arrived from Oxshield.

Muffles snaps landed, garnering an immediate reaction of cover fire. Siege of Port Smith began, bullets were sparsely fired, ammunition for Kreston and cover for Dorchester, neither wanted to give in to a disadvantage. Before taking the town – Dorchester had to capture the only path viable for movement, straying off the path meant certain death, as for said path, Erano prepared with forward facing defenses.

“Good luck,” prayed the pope before a relic of priceless worth, “-Erano, may the Lord protect thee in battle.”

Location, somewhere inside the unexplored southwestern region of Oxshield – a land permeated by valleys, forests, rivers, and unexplored territory off limits to the public, lies a military training facility. The area’s reclusiveness and always familiar-looking nature made it the best suitable location for Phantom’s subsidiary, Sotepios.

“Majesty,” saluted a decorated officer, “-it’s ready.”

“Good,” he said dressed in a military outfit, ‘-the air force’s strength comes from man and machine, Midas and Sotepios.’

Igna soon found himself on a metallic grate overlooking a clean hangar of many pilots, “-Graduates of Sotepios, cadets, veteran pilots, I thank you all for being present in our kingdom’s time of need. For the past month, in conjecture with Colonel Hems, training and formation have been tough. The implementation of newer, faster, and deadlier jets has increased our ability to strike fast and hard. No matter how fast or deadly our forces are, without eyes in the sky, there’s no point in sending our pilots into potential death. My responsibility as General of the Airforce is to lead my men, I won’t stand for pointless deaths. It’s my belief people have the ability to do what they wish and strive toward. Persistence, discipline, and loyalty are fundamentals told of in studies and training, easier spoken than done, and most of all, applied. Stories of war heroes, seemingly superhuman entities abled to defy death themselves and face their foe head-on have been sung for long. Time’s nigh for a new chapter to be written. Nothing’s a guarantee, and I won’t make false promises,” he scanned the room with a cold rivaling winter, “-tools, knowledge, and support. Midas has provided the technology and Sotepios with the knowledge and training. Rest, comrade, is in thy hands,” he stepped away, leaving room for Hems, a well-built man of little to no hair took center stage, “-it’s been a while,” he said, “-time has come to prove your worth. Be at the ready for deployment – the nature of our operations will range from attack to support. There’s a reason why the kingdom invested greatly in conquering the air, prove to his majesty and the kingdom that we’re their rightful protectors.”

“YES SIR!”

Corridor echoed by loud steps, “-Hems, have them ready to deploy paratroopers. Coordinate with General Minerva, time’s come to end the battle.” They exited to a massive open space lined with hangars and runway strips, “-I’ll leave the rest in your hand,” he climbed into an AFR-controlled jet and left, saluting Hems on his way out.

“Right, how’s the satellite?”

“In geostationary orbit, I don’t believe it,” cried the intercoms, “-we asked for a bird’s eyes view and got one better. Systems are operational, we can intercept communication and control the flow just by saying the word. Who designed the internal components?”

“Your’s truly,” he smiled, “-don’t fret over details, how’s the battle looking?”

“Neutral, Dorchester’s stuck on the mountain, a blizzard seems to have grasped the mount. Aima forest’s crawling with enemies. Managed to locate a forward base of operations. It looks to me like the whole invasion of Kreston was a ploy,” the interface widened, “-Alphia’s reinforcement is on its way. Once Smith is captured, it’ll take a few hours for them to arrive – what should we do?”

“What else, send the bombing squad, we’ll test the XF-X20, heir to the XF-23.”

Day rose, and the siege of port Smith amplified in scale. Dorchester’s forces, using destructive means of artillery, forced Erano’s retreat. Concurrently – preparations to take the capital were completed, before any warning was issued, Dorchester’s forces rushed and caught the castle off-guard, taking the town hostage, and stationed forces were forced to surrender.

Bishop Greg and viscount Olian’s operations were very successful – Kreston’s capital and the port were basically under their command. Central’s reinforcement arrived late; such was the collective mindset.

“To victory,” cheered the bishop.

“To victory,” returned Olian with women at his beckon call, “-Kreston was such an easy target. Never realized we had won the battle before the invasion even started.”

Sound of engine played, ‘-too bad for them, they don’t know who they’re up against,’ opposite sat leader of the Black Unit, a familiar face, Thempa and his fellow comrade, Kendy of the subjugation squad 05.

“Ready to drop,” said an attendant – the fuselage opened to the passing senary of Aina forest, “-GO, GO, GO!”

Kreston’s capital; hidden amidst prisoners were members of the Sabbath Clan. Signals were exchanged, and holy soldiers held strong, making rounds and suppressing revolt. Blink and done, guards assassinated – weapons returned to Erano’s captured unit, everyone stormed the gate, shooting and killing on sight. The battle for the capital resumed anew, “-we’re going to die,” cried one, “-we escape and their larger force will wait to kill.”

“No,” said a nightwalker, “-everything’s been planned,” he said, rushing for the light at the tunnel. They barged into fresh air and gasped.

“Hello,” said Saniata holding a rifle to the leader’s head, “-glad the escape worked.”

“We surrender!” signaled the officer, reversing the roles.

Black hair and grey pupils galloped through town, “-who was that?”

“I don’t know...”

Erano caught a glimpse, “-general?” she darted past, followed by soldiers rearing to fight. Gunfire rampantly sang the song of death, “-Aegis shield, protect my comrade and freeze my enemies,” a golden ray of light sparked the cold winter scape.

“REPORT!” cried a retainer, barging into alcohol filled room, “-VISCOUNT OLIAN, BISHOP GREG...”

“WHAT IS IT?” narrowed a murderous Olian, “-ruining my fun...” he stabbed a nearby apple and ran to choke the man, “-I SAID NO VISITORS.”

The chubby bishop rose his snot-filled nose from the breast of a defiled, beaten, and bruised demi human girl, “-let the man speak,” he wiped his drool.

*Cough, cough,* “-we’re under attack.”

“Were under attack,” resounded a darker voice, Igna moved into frame, latter being the doorway, “-a measly hundred guards for protection, I must be dreaming.” Thempa scurried and whispered, “-all enemies have been neutralized. We’ve captured sons and daughters of nobles.” The king nodded and entered.

“King of Hidros,” glared the Viscount, “-long time no see, majesty.”

“Long time no see, traitor.”

“Why are you here?”

“To deliver this,” he handed a letter.

“This is...”

“The ultimatum. Please, have a read, I’m proud of the prose.”

After the passage signed by the bishop, fresh ink read the following, ‘-go fuck yourself,’ signed, Igna Haggard. Olian dropped; “-the battle is over,” he murmured, “-Kreston’s won.”

“VISCOUNT!” cried the bishop, “-what’s the meaning of this, what about our arrangement, what of the great-”

*Snap,* a bullet dropped the chubby fellow, “-so much for following the righteous path.”