3,000 Meters In The Air
A C-130 Hercules cut through the pristine blue sky. Sunlight shimmered across its wings, and lazy white clouds drifted past the window like cotton drifting down a river.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot and co-pilot cradled steaming cups of tea the crew had just brewed.
"Thanks," The pilot muttered, eyes half-closed as she inhaled the scent.
"Man," The co-pilot sighed, sipping his cup, "I still can't believe the sky can look this damn beautiful."
"I know, right?" the pilot replied. "No wonder our ancestors were always crazy about going to human territory. If I had to stare at the same thunderclouds every day, I'd have blown my brains out by now."
"Yeah," said the crewman behind them, leaning in with his own cup. "That bitch goddess locking us under that storm blanket for centuries? Total mental health disaster. Now I never argue with my shrink when she tells me to 'go outside and enjoy the sky."
"Before this," the co-pilot added, "my coping mechanism were basically 'bar' or 'brothel' every damn weekend."
"Or," came a voice through the intercom, "you could just find a hobbies that don't bankrupt you like booze or hoes."
All three demons glanced toward the cargo bay.
There, half a dozen crewmen were huddled over a massive sheet of metal, paintbrushes flicking in synchronized chaos.
The co-pilot raised an eyebrow. "…Not all of us are 'artsy' like you, man."
"Are you guys done back there?" the pilot called.
"Almost… aaand-done!"
The co-pilot and the crewman abandoned their seats and marched to the cargo bay.
On the metal sheet lay a freshly painted masterpiece:
A sexy demon girl blowing a kiss, perfectly posed atop a cartoon bomb, with the caption:
WELCOME TO MURICA
The crewman whistled. "Damn. You guys outdid yourselves."
"You think they'll like the present?" one painter asked.
"Oh, they'll love it," the co-pilot grinned. "Trust me."
The pilot's voice crackled through the comm:
"All hands, to stations. We're almost on target."
The painters nodded, leaving their artwork proudly attached to the GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast (MOAB), a.k.a. Mother Of All Bombs.
The co-pilot returned to the cockpit. Others strapped into their weapon stations. The serenity of the sky contrasted violently with the chaos they were about to unleash below.
"Overlord, this is Soccer Van," said the Combat Systems Officer. "Approaching target."
"Copy, Soccer Van," Overlord replied. "Proceed. Green light. I repeat: green light."
The cargo bay doors slowly yawned open. Wind howled inside the aircraft.
"We have visuals. Releasing in five…four…three…two…one…release."
"Bombs away!" the gunners shouted.
"Overlord, Mother is on the way. Soccer Van is RTB."
Far below, death whistled toward the ground.
Vandoria Army, Left Flank
RATATATATATATATATATATA
BRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT
The running battle raged across the plains. The Vandorian cavalry—centaurs and horsemen—chased the Abrams and Vulcans, leaving behind the trails of their dead.
The Muricans had a problem.
"ARE YOU DONE WITH THE HULL MAGAZINE?!" the gunner screamed, mowing down centaurs with the coax.
"THERE'S A FUCKING REASON WE NEVER USE IT!" the loader bellowed. "BECAUSE IT'S TAKING TOO FUCKING LONG TO RELOAD!"
"COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON—" the gunner hissed, firing nonstop as horsemen closed the gap.
"And… done! UP!" He closed the turret hatch.
"ON THE WAY!"
BOOOOM
The cluster of centaurs exploded, with their body parts flying into the air.
"That's our last 6 rounds, by the way," the loader warned.
"FUCK! THERE ARE STILL THOUSANDS OF THEM!"
Vandoria Army, Right Flank
"MERCURIAL THRUST!"
One of the holy knights hurled a spear glowing with divine magic. It skimmed past Stan's arm, slicing a line of streaming blood.
Stan roared and spun, swinging his GAU-8 like a baseball bat.
THUMP
The knight folded mid-air like a rag doll, bones snapping as he crashed onto the ground in a mangled heap.
Dozens more surged in, fearless now that Stan was within melee range.
Stan bulldozed them. Every swing sent bodies flying—some tumbling, others crushed outright.
BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM
Behind him, the AC-130 laid down continuous fire, saturating distant clusters but avoiding Stan's immediate perimeter.
Stan's chest expanded.
Something bright flickered behind his teeth.
A sphere of swirling energy condensed in his mouth—then unleashed.
BOOOOM
A beam of raw hellfire tore through a formation, detonating them in a fiery blast.
But it doesn't stop the other hundreds to keep charging at Stan.
Stan groaned, "Ugh… I'm seriously going to ask for more gunships to Monny after this shit."
Vandoria Army, Center
Duke Pierre galloped behind the mass of his troops, watching his thousands of soldiers rushing towards the Great Demon Gate.
The gate is right in front of their nose, a couple more miles and they can reach it.
"SIR!" called the Avian lookout. "Enemy soldiers can be seen at the gate!"
"How many??"
"A couple hundred!"
"Any hell dragonflies or demon elephants?"
"No, sir! Just the demon chariots and infantry."
Duke Pierre grinned.
His bet had been right.
"Their war creatures and ammunition are limited! Probably thinking that we will retreat after all those attacks!"
He raised his arm.
"SEND THE SIGNAL! CHAAAAARGEE!"
The horn blared.
VOOOOOOOOMMM
"RRRAAAAAAAGHHH"
Thousands of soldiers rallying their war cry. The army thundered forward—seven thousand men sprinted toward the Gate, bloodlust and desperation mixing into one suicidal charge.
Then-
SHIIIIING
A light-white, pure, blinding-opened just above their center.
Some soldiers looked up.
Others didn't even get that far.
KABOOOOOOOOOOM
The world vanished.
A two-kilometer-wide explosion swallowed everything. Thousands of lives evaporated in less than one second. The valley amplified the shockwave, turning it into a 320 km/h tunnel of wind, dust, rock, and flying metal.
Soldiers outside the blast radius that didn't die in the initial blast meet their demise by being slammed into the rocks or pierced by shrapnel coming from their comrades' weapons and armors.
Survivors were hurled dozens of feet—bones shattered, necks snapped for the unlucky ones.
Duke Pierre slammed into the ground, bouncing violently. But a green shield covering them from the flying shrapnel.
Vandoria Army, Left Flank
The giant explosion scared the horses and the centaurs alike, stopping them in their tracks.
From their place, they saw the biggest fireball that they had ever seen. Not even an archmage's magic can create that size of explosion.
Vandoria Army, Right Flank
The soldiers stopped charging at Stan, they even forgot about Stan for a couple of seconds.
"O-only God can have this kind of power…"
"T-the demons have their god fighting for them…"
Soldiers, mages, priests, trembling and kneeling in fear.
"Fiuuu," Stan whistles, watching the firework. "It sure is better to watch it in person rather than from the camera."
Vandoria Army, Center
"Cough… cough…"
Duke Pierre sat up, dazed, bleeding.
The green magic pendant that he wears for protection flickers, and cracked.
He looked ahead.
His army was gone.
All seven thousand soldiers, replaced by a smoking crater.
"W-what… happened…? Where's my army…?"
Around him, a few dozen survivors staggered upright, bleeding, confused.
Then a soldier pointed.
"Look… the demons… the demons' chariots are coming…"
Two M2 Bradleys and eight Humvees rolled toward them, guns already pointed.
Duke Pierre now doesn't have any reason to feel confident, only reason to feel scared.
"RETREAT! RETREEEAAAT!!
Vandoria Army, Left Flank
"Sir! They are retreating!" Said the Abrams driver
The Vandorian left flank didn't need to hear the retreat order from Duke Pierre.
They could tell by themselves that they were fucked.
"All units halt."
The Abrams screeched to a stop. A cold silence passed.
"…this is Bison leader to all units. Advance! Chase them down!"
The entire line surged forward. With the remaining ammunition that they had, they mowed down the retreating enemies.
RATATATATATATATATATATA
Bodies of centaurs, humans, and horses crunched beneath their 62-ton tracks.
Vandoria Army, Center
Pierre fled the valley, terror choking his breath.
His left and right flanks were also routing. Thousands fleeing from dozens of enemies.
His fear of being killed by the demons outweighs his fear for his career.
His assessments had been wrong.
Catastrophically wrong.
"DUUUKEE! OVER HERE!"
A familiar voice calling him. It's Archmage Durac, he still survives even though he's missing an arm.
"A-Archmage! Are you still alive? We are retreating to Dawn to reorganize."
"Yes, we shall! There we can contact the capital for reinforce-…"
SPLAAATT
Durac's head exploded like a watermelon for no reason.
Duke Pierre screamed.
"Hi...Hieeeeee!"
Malvorath Mountain Range
Kovalski exhaled slowly, lowering his rifle.
"And that, gentlemen," said Kovalski to his comm, "is the Ace of Hearts. Putting us back in the lead again with 5 points."
His spotter gleefully scratching Archmage Durac's photo from the target list.
"FUUUUCK, I WAS ABOUT TO WIN!" someone yelled through the comm.
"Heheh, too bad, Sierra Echo. That thousand dollars is ours."
Kovalski frowned. "Say, why did command suddenly take Ace of Spades off the list?"
"I don't know, man." His spotter replies. "Something about a present for a new friend."
He glanced through his scope again and saw Pierre fleeing in panic.
He didn't fire.
Orders were orders.
Vandoria Army, Right Flank
BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM BOOOM
The AC-130 shredded the retreating masses. The survivors fled in total panic, leaving Stan behind as they trampled over each other to escape.
Stand didn't bother to chase. He shrank back to demonfolk form, naked and unbothered. He waved lazily as a Chinook descended.
The crew rushed out with a cloth, a cigar, and a bottle of whiskey.
"Good work, sir."
Stan tore the cap off the bottle with his teeth and chugged.
"AAAAAAHHH, so refreshing."
They lit his cigar.
"Another day in the office, I guess."
"Too bad we didn't record this battle," one crewman muttered. "Would've sent a strong message."
"Oh, don't worry," Stan said, looking toward a hill with a knowing smile. "The world is watching us."
Hill near the battlefield
Two human spies observed the chaos—one using a telescope to document the aftermath. The other is sketching every vehicle and aircraft.
"What should we report about the giant explosion? I don't see anything that makes the attack"
"I don't know, maybe they already planted it before? It's the only path to the gate anyway, so it makes sense to plant an explosion trap in there."
"….Not only did the battle only last for one day, but a 30,000-strong army got defeated by just a dozen enemies? And that's not counting the wyverns and avian warriors. Do you think the higher-ups will believe our report?"
"It's not our job to make them believe. We just need to report what we've seen. That's all," said the man while packing up his things. "I bet other spies are feeling the same also."
"Do you think… how many spies like us managed to escape the DMZ village that night?"
"A lot, especially the spies that came from major kingdoms."
They disappeared into the hills.
Their high command would receive their report.
Murica already knew spies lurked everywhere. Mo' had insisted they be left alone.
Let the world see a little of Murica's power.
Not all.
Just enough.
And best of all—
There were plenty more surprises hidden up their sleeves.