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——
Demon Lord's Army Headquarters
Sensing impending doom, Nosgorath issued an abrupt order to regroup his army in the forest. Recognizing the threat of American aircraft, he moved his army through the extensive caverns that featured throughout the nearby mountains. Leaving only a small group of orcs and goblins to maintain his headquarters, he rounded every other unit for the assault.
While traveling through the tunnels, he found himself pestered by the Red and Blue Ogres, who were struck with trepidation. "Master, why are we moving underground?"
"We must remain hidden from their flying ships. Normally, they would not pose a threat. This is if we have our standard arsenal from the creators. I sometimes forget that the inferior races may sometimes pose a threat, such as those four heroes."
"The ones who killed our brothers?"
"Yes. Although I doubt they have such powerful individuals in the modern era, it is clear that they don't need them anymore. They've advanced more slowly than I expected, only managing to go from propellers to light-discharge engines in the span of millennia. I anticipate that they'll deploy similar tactics, so we must refrain from engaging in direct combat until we are as close as possible to their walls."
"How will we do that?"
Nosgorath pointed to the Scarlet Dragon, who carried crates of magic gems on its back. "I would have used the magic gems we've looted so far, but the gems produced by the inferior races are well… inferior. Using the creators' gems, I will create an immense shield to protect us until we reach the gate. Until then, I do not wish to waste mana, so we must make our way through the forests."
"Oh, what an intelligent plan!" The Red Ogre praised him.
"The Demon Lord Nosgorath, our very own master, is a genius!" The Blue Ogre added his thoughts.
Before Nosgorath could accept the praise, an immense rumbling shook the tunnels, causing small rocks to fall down. Soft, but discernible thuds echoed through the caverns as the shaking continued. "They must have found our headquarters…" Nosgorath lamented. "Now there's no turning back."
——
Tormis, Topa Kingdom
Moah felt his heart skip a beat as he saw the fleet of B-52 bombers head for the Demon Lord's base. "Just three were enough to completely decimate the Demon Lord's first army… Surely ten is a bit much?"
"Not at all, Sir Moah," the chubby general stated, his eyes hidden behind a dark pair of sunglasses. "See, we don't take too kindly to demons. We don't know much about 'em, aside from speculation from our culture and the information you've got, so we decided to make sure they're dead. Can't take any risks with the minions of the Devil."
"That's reasonable…" Moah muttered.
"And we also don't get the opportunity to practice large-scale bombing. Last time we did that was a century ago, but since there ain't any rules of war here, we're now running some exercises. Just in case, of course."
Moah nodded, finding General Hammond's attitude and reasoning to be fascinating. He's heard rumors that the Americans were wealthy enough to siege a town by simply dumping money on it. If these rumors were even remotely true, then dropping tons of bombs wouldn't make the slightest dent on their wallets. Just how much did these people spend on their military budget?
"Pay close attention to the drone feed."
Moah, Gai, and other members of the Demon Lord Subjugation Squad leaned in, watching the moving pictures closely. Snippets of radio chatter flared up as the bombing fleet approached the vast demonic base. Figures scurried about down below: goblins and orcs rushing to prepare defenses. Their reactions were for naught; it was impossible for them, armed with their crude, primitive weapons, to reach the high-flying bombers.
Whistles of death permeated the air as hundreds of bombs fell upon the base, each packing enough explosive power to level a small building. The falling objects — from the perspective of the recording drone — were so numerous that the sight was similar to a rainstorm in the distance. Indeed, the bombs fell like rain, impacting with incredible splashes as the base became painted with a cobbled mess of orange flames and dark ashes.
The Topans remained silent, wondering how such destructive power could even be possible. The only comparison they could think of were the weapons of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, which led them to fear the Americans. They were grateful that although the two nations shared similar technologies and weapons, the latter was kind enough not to use such power on them. Their might was instead focused on Nosgorath's base, which suffered damage so heavy that almost no traces of the base remained. The entire plain upon which the barracks and other camps were built was completely decimated; the bombing run left only ugly craters and scars of what used to be a beautiful natural environment. Even the nearby caves became irreparably damaged, with their entrances blocked off by tons of debris.
"Well, that should do it." General Hammond smirked at the scene of destruction, satisfied with his men's work.
——
Somewhere Near the Topa Kingdom
After several long hours of traversing through the mountain range, Nosgorath's army emerged into a forest along the southern edges of the Grameus continent. With most of his troops tired from the long trek, he allowed them to rest near the coastline and finish up their rations after establishing a camp.
After a short rest, he noticed something interesting: a smell that he recognized. He smelled humans.
—
USS Gerald R. Ford
Admiral Hawthorne yawned, almost dozing off on the bridge. "You'd think there would've been sea monsters or something up here, eh? Guess I can't complain that it's boring; could be worse."
"Yeah, sir. I'm all for a good fight, but I wouldn't want to fight Godzilla. You do have a point though; it's strange that there aren't any krakens up here." Colonel Henson replied, smoking his cigar.
"Yeah, aren't Krakens part of the octopus family? So theoretically the cold waters shouldn't be an excuse… unless there's some other sort of predator around here?"
Henson shrugged. "I just want something to do."
An officer looked up from his station, seemingly frantic. "Umm, sirs!"
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Dr. Jackson's team is requesting immediate assistance! They spotted a group of orcs along the shore and are currently retreating to their boat."
A new voice popped up before Admiral Hawthorne could give orders. "Sir! One contact just appeared over the forest; it's flying toward the scientists right now! ETA: two minutes."
"What the hell…? Wait for target confirmation. Have the Barry get her SAMs ready. Launch the next available squadron and patch me through to General Hammond. Looks like the Air Force missed a spot."
—
Nosgorath flew through the air, seeing the prey desperately running toward their boat. Wonderful, he thought. His mouth watered at the thought of having a human for lunch; it has been almost a week since he last ran out of delicious inferior beings. Clouded by hunger, he rushed at the white vessel, preparing to launch a fireball at it.
I hope the food doesn't get too charred, he thought. Suddenly, his instincts begged him to put up a shield. Just under a second after he deployed a magical barrier, a missile impacted it, producing ripples throughout the translucent yellow shield as it flickered. Nosgorath felt himself pushed back and groaned as he tried to determine the source of the attack. It couldn't have been the white vessel, since his eyes were on it the whole time. The attack must've originated from somewhere out in the ocean, out of sight.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted yet another one of the light arrows closing in on him. Drawing from his mana reserves, he flew back down toward the forest. He weaved through the trees at speeds unimaginable for a humanoid and narrowly dodged the explosive weapon as it impacted a tree. Wooden splinters showered his magical barrier, creating a yellow lightshow.
Hoping the humans couldn't track him through the forest, he hurried back toward his camp to get them moving.
—
"Sir, we've still got a lock. Should we engage?"
Hawthorne scratched his chin. "He's leading us back to their camp… hold off on that; once he stops, send the coordinates to the rest of the fleet and we'll commence a saturation bombardment with the LAMs. Prioritize that object we saw earlier; I'm pretty sure that was the Demon Lord."
The Seventh Fleet coordinated with a new X-47C drone that travelled along the coastline, surveying the extent of the Demon Lord's new base. The UAV silently analyzed the forest below after trailing a group of orcs that was hauling back bags of fish. The new base was clearly constructed hastily, not intended for prolonged usage longer than a couple days. Although the base had no protection, it had concealment. Crushing the enemies before they are able to slink away into the forest is ideal, but Hawthorne didn't overthink the situation. After all, the forest didn't stretch forever; if the demons wanted to forage for food or attack the Topa Kingdom, they would need to venture out onto open ground, where they could easily be annihilated.
With the targets designated and each missile assigned to a kill zone, the Seventh Fleet moved to eradicate the demons. Dozens of cruise missiles soared into the air, followed by another set of dozens and another, filling the skies with glowing harbingers of doom. Like meteors, they fell from above and slammed down into the forest below, producing clouds of dust and debris so massive that the Seventh Fleet couldn't even determine if their missiles were hitting their targets.
—
Nosgorath once more felt his instincts screaming at him, warning him of danger. He activated a magical barrier for himself right as a light arrow crashed down into a group of goblins to his right. This detonation was followed by
dozens more, killing off a significant portion of his army. Seeing more light arrows in the distance, he made the split second decision to use up his magic gems to create a shield over his army. Analyzing the power of the humans' explosive magic, he hoped that the magic gems would last long enough.
Mounting himself on the Scarlet Dragon, he put his hands over the crates of crystals and began chanting. A beam of light shot upward, then stretched downward, forming a dome over his army. "Red and Blue Ogres, have the troops move closer together. This is it! We will charge toward their gate without stop! If the lower troops stop, they will die! As for us, we may not die outright, but it is our duty to ensure that as many troops as possible survive for the assault!"
"Understood, Master. We shall not fail you!" The ogres said simultaneously as they headed to gather the troops along the outskirts and relay Nosgorath's orders.
The dome shrunk gradually until the demon troops were essentially touching shoulders. Several stragglers who were too tired to keep up found themselves outside of the protective dome and suffered instant death at the hands of the American cruise missiles. Some of the more intelligent orcs headed the opposite direction, reasoning that the protective dome is the humans' primary target. Their reasoning turned out to be correct, and they fled into the woods unscathed, save for a few who didn't time the light arrow volleys correctly.
Nosgorath scoffed at the traitors, vowing to execute them once he was victorious — if he was victorious. The constant volleys of explosive magic hammered down on his morale harder than it did on the shields. Already, two crates of magic gems were exhausted. With only four crates remaining, it was unlikely that his entire army could make it to the gate, unless he sacrificed a portion of his troops and made the dome smaller. Seeing the value of his mission and also seeing his goblins as expendable, he shrunk the dome, leaving hundreds of goblins at the mercy of the unrelenting meteor shower.
—
"Just how many missiles can that goddamn thing take? What the hell are we fighting, aliens?!" Hawthorne exclaimed in shock as he watched the visual feed from the UAV. "All available vessels, move in for shelling."
The American ships, in an attempt to conserve their missiles, bombarded the shield with their cannons. Since many were familiar with science fiction, they were able to recognize that progress was indeed being made: the shield was flickering and becoming more transparent. With the constant shelling, however, Hawthorne speculated that there might not be enough ammunition to actually finish off the surviving demons.
Thankfully, the solution was handed to him on a silver platter. An officer came up to the admiral, "Sir, we've received word from General Hammond. Their B-52s are rearmed and ready to deploy."
"Do it. Let's wipe these demons out for good."
—
Nosgorath grimaced as the shields were peppered by the American vessels. Only two crates remained, but he could see the gate over the next hill. "Almost there!"
His troops let out a war cry, their morale boosted by the simple phrase. Weathering the storm, they made it to the open plains, with the Topan gate sitting directly in front of them. Nosgorath spared a glance at the crates of magic gems: they were now completely diminished. Unwilling to hold it up with his own mana reserves, he allowed the structure to dissipate. Dozens of shells impacted his ranks, a signal to his troops to begin the assault. They charged forward with goblins taking the lead, but the goblins were almost immediately wiped out by more scores of explosive light arrows. Nosgorath scoffed, "They had more?!"
His disbelief and fear grew as a familiar sound penetrated his ears. "No…" He brought his gaze upon the skies beyond the gate, seeing dark specks in the distance, slowly growing larger. "No!" Thinking quickly, he summoned a Dark Phoenix and directed it to intercept the bombers. He watched in horror as his summoned beast disappeared due to the freezing temperatures at the higher altitude levels. "No!"
He tried to think of another plan, but it was too late. The bombers had already reached their position and the hailstorm of dark objects had begun. The last thing Nosgorath saw was a bomb with a message inscribed on it: "Rip and tear, until it is done."