Austronesia Empire, Imperial Majapahit, New Guinea, Skies Over the Forest.
1st Year of the New Age, New Sabbath, 3rd Week, 3rd Month of Abraham.
The thunder of an AF-1 rifle echoed over the sheer walls of the near vertical mountain range. The twin moons appeared above as two thin crescents hovered over the tall peaks of the Mountain ranges, as a single dark shape loomed over peaks, narrowing missing the jagged rocks, kicking up loose rocks and dirt.
The twin turboprop duct fans screamed as maximum power was applied to them, barely allowing the shuttle to clear the peaks barely a meter or two below its belly.
Several figures were strapped onto crash seats facing each other in the pressurized cabin of the UH-28 "Golden Eagle" helicopter.
Dozens of weight-reducing runes were carved into the main hull of the helicopter, giving a further 25% reduction in total weight, transforming the heavy ungainly aircraft into something that flew with the agility of a sports car.
Despite its lack of aerodynamic surfaces, the stubby wings welded to the middle of the hull supported three weapon stations each, providing lift and firepower.
At the nose, a large blue-gray mana stone glowed faintly beneath 10 mm of armored steel. Carved with mystic runes, the stone shimmered as an electric current coursed through it, projecting a bubble of reduced wind resistance around the craft.
This enchantment allowed the copter to glide through the air as though on greased rails against all weather but a hurricane.
"This is your flight captain speaking, please put your trays up and ensure your seat belts are buckled," a cheery voice crackled over the speakers in the red-lit cabin. "If you feel the need to puke, kindly do so inside your helmets, as the Golden Eagle does not permit vomiting in the flight cabin."
Specialist Sergeant Riley rolled his eyes at the pilot's antics. He glanced out the armored glass window, seeing but the darkness beyond offered little to see.
Turning his attention back to his team, he noted a few of them sleeping off in their seats, trying to catch whatever sleep they could. Across from him, Specialist Private Mason sat quietly, staring into the night beyond the glass, lost in thought.
After a short lull, the pilot's voice broke through the sound of the engines, "Alright, boys, we're approaching the LZ (Landing Zone) in five minutes. Make sure you've left no belongings behind you as you depart from the bird. And thank you for flying Air Golden Eagle, and have a pleasant day!"
"Wake up! Wake up!" Riley shouted over the rising whine of the engines. "Five minutes!" He held up five fingers, rousing his team from their brief rest. The squad immediately began a final check of their gear for the last time and braced themselves for the upcoming insertion.
The whine of the turboprops changed pitch, and the buckles of Riley's harness dug into his armor as he tightened his grip on the handrails in time just as the pilot gave his warning.
"Alright, boys! Hold on tight! Here we go!"
The Golden Eagle suddenly took a hard turn to the right, then dropped sharply as the pilot nosedived, bleeding off speed rapidly. The sudden maneuver slammed the team into their crash seats, and the helicopter hovered just a meter above the terrain as an old precaution against landmines, despite knowing the enemy lacked such technology. It was more about keeping the pilot's skills sharp.
At the rear of the cabin, the crew chief stood stoically like a statue by the sharp turns and dives seemingly unable to faze him at all. As the lights switched from red to green, he punched the rear ramp open and called out.
"GO, GO, GO!"
The soldiers of Omega-191, the Tempest Scions, unbuckled their safety harnesses and rapidly hopped off the ramp and spread out into a tight circle, with their AF-2 rifles leveled at the surrounding darkness. The fat silencers attached to their barrels glistened under the faint moonlight, as they scanned the edge of the forest.
Once the helicopter lifted off and the noise of the turboprops faded into the distance, Riley whistled into his comms.
"Move out."
The team immediately began their march north, straight toward their objective.
They wore their night vision gear and synchronized their comms, then formed a diamond-shaped formation, keeping a five-meter distance between each other as they advanced. The group of six humans and one elf moved through the thick forest quietly and skillfully, not leaving behind any traces of their passage as they headed northwards towards their objective.
The transport helicopter had airlifted them 15 kilometers south of their objective, skimming over the mountain tops to avoid detection. From here, they would trek through the forest and infiltrate the enemy encampment, taking out their target and, if necessary, searching for and destroying the magical anchor.
The team was mostly armed with silenced AF-2 rifles, and each member carried a pump-action shotgun loaded with experimental arcane ammunition. For long-range support, they had the AF-3 "Magekiller", ready to take out their target from a distance if possible with adamantite rounds and was designed to bypass magical protections even from a Low-Level Transcendent Tier-1 entity.
Paired in twos, each duo carried two AF-2s, a shotgun, and an AF-3 between themselves. With the aid of their mithril-enhanced armor, the team moved quickly and efficiently with their enhanced speed and agility allowing them to cover ground fast.
In just under an hour, they reached the edge of the Orc encampment. Hidden in the dense shadows of the forest as the Tempest Scions prepared for their mission.
"I see something," Polites, the elf member of Omega-191, spoke quietly as he moved quickly to the edge of a cliff. The rest of the team followed him, crouching low and peering over the edge.
Beyond the cliff was a massive field that had once been home to a human city. Now, it lay in ruin, ravaged by the demon invasion during the New Year Tragedy.
Not only that, the streets were filled with thousands of Orcs, swarming through the ruins like ants.
But it wasn't just the sheer number of Orcs that was shocking, it was the vehicles. Dozens of ramshackled war machines which appeared to be put together from salvaged car parts and scrap metal rumbled across the city with their jagged armor covered in spikes. Even from this distance, the team could hear the deep roars of Orc laughter echoing through the desolate landscape.
"Damn... It's a damn convention down there," Price muttered with his eyes wide as he took in the sight.
"Yeah." Riley responded grimly, casting a glance at Polites, who met his look and gave a silent nod.
Without a word, the elf began murmuring a spell under his breath, where a small bluish light radiated from under each member of Omega-191's feet as the magical circle formed and completed its work.
Within moments, the entire squad glowed slightly bluish before their body started blurring and then blending seamlessly into the surrounding shadows.
"Done," Polites whispered as he finished the minor invisibility spell.
"Go," Riley ordered quietly over the team's comms. "Infra probe lights on. Keep everyone in sight, and don't get lost!" He glanced around, straining to see his teammates in the thick darkness of the forest.
Reaching back, he flipped a switch on a small cylindrical device attached to his vest.
His night vision goggles flashed to life, revealing a series of red pulsing infrared markers, each one representing a member of his team. The probe lights were low-intensity infrared pulses, invisible to anyone not wearing NVGs, but crystal clear to Omega-191.
Satisfied that everyone's gear was functioning properly and that they had visibility on each other, Riley gave a quick hand signal, and the team silently moved forward.
The Tempest Scions crept carefully past the outskirts of the Orc encampment with their weapons at the ready. The sound of raucous Orc laughter and clanging metal grew louder as they moved, punctuated by the occasional explosion from one of the ramshackle vehicles. Drunken Orcs staggered around, unaware of the invisible soldiers slipping past them in the night.
Riley's eyes remained fixed ahead with their mission in his mind. Eliminate the Necromancer and stop the undead army from spreading further chaos, and one mistake could mean death for the entire team, but Omega-191 had trained for this. They were prepared, focused, and now, practically invisible.
As they moved deeper into enemy territory, the eerie glow of fires and the faint smell of charred remains filled the air. The objective was within reach, but so was the danger.
One of the Tempest Scion team members began mapping out locations and positions of the Orc encampment as they stealthily navigated through it, identifying guard towers, stores, barracks, and sentry positions.
After an hour of covert infiltration, the team spread out across three designated locations. Area A, B, and C, each with two members overwatching the area where they suspected the Necromancer would appear except for Riley, who positioned centrally between the locations, took on the role of command and control point.
Riley carefully climbed into the canopy of a tree and settled on a sturdy branch three stories up. He secured his position by fastening a rope and carabiner around the branch, clipping it to his harness. Then, he unfurled a smart camo netting and draped it over himself, lying prone and keeping watch around him. The minor invisibility spell will remain active for a couple of hours before fading, more than enough time for the team to fortify their positions.
Though High Command has not given any strict deadline, the mission's critical nature weighed on Riley's mind and it must succeed. He was determined to make sure that everything worked out perfectly. His team had strategically planted claymore mines in each location, simple curved plates packed with hundreds of ball bearings on one side and shaped explosives on the other.
The mines were daisy-chained together for maximum effect on a trap area, rigged to detonate remotely by a clanking device that would send an electric charge through hidden wires cleverly camouflaged along the forest floor.
This was a last resort, in case the team's snipers failed to take down the target with the AF-3 Magekiller, as the Necromancer would likely be shielded by magical defensive spells.
But the sheer force of the ball bearings and the Mithril properties within them will be more than enough to shred through what magical shields and defenses to pieces.
Hours passed as the special ops soldiers lay hidden in the dense forest, ignoring the bites and stings of insects on their exposed skin and waited for the Necromancer's arrival. But Lady Luck was not smiling to them as night turned to day, and it wasn't until late afternoon that something happened.
Specialist Private Polites slowly chewed a dried fruit bar in his mouth, slowly savoring the sweetness of the mixture of fruits and nuts. He and his partner, Price, mentally turned out the boredom of having nothing happening for hours, even taking turns for quick power naps.
Watching the sloppily patrolling gangs of Orcs, crashing through the undergrowth, Polites shook his head. They were so loud, it was a wonder they hadn't alerted half the forest.
He used to fear these Orcs, thinking back to the childhood stories that his mother used to scare him with, warning that if you don't sleep now, or you don't listen and be a good boy, the Orcs will come and snatch you away and eat you at night. Now looking at the way the Orcs move and carry themselves, he smiled at how foolish his younger self had been.
"Pssh," Price hissed from his hide on a tree away from him. He signals Polites with hand signs, indicating some unusual movement approaching from their East. Price handled the massive AF-3 anti-magic rifle, perfectly camouflaged beneath the smart netting that blended him into the tree so seamlessly, only Polites knew where to look.
Polites turned his head very slowly toward the direction Price had indicated. His face, painted with dark green and strips of black camo paint, cautiously peeked from beneath the netting, avoiding any sudden movements that might attract any attention and spotted a large troop of Orcs storming their way across the forest at a distance of 50 meters away.
Cursing inwardly, Polites noticed a group of robed individuals among the Orcs, but one of them clearly stood out among them, as that individual exuded an aura of pure evilness to his elven senses. He double-tapped his comms, alerting the team that the target had been spotted in Area B.
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Austronesia Empire, Imperial Maharlika, Manila, Malacanang Palace.
1st Year of the New Age, New Sabbath, 3rd Week, 3rd Month of Abraham.
Emperor Maximo and the other command staff stood around the tactical display table, looking between the map spread across its surface and the various screens showing UAV footage and live helmet-cam feeds from the Tempest Scion teams.
The room was filled with tension as everyone's eyes were bloodshot from a long night of waiting, sustained only by endless cups of coffee as they watched the displays and waiting for reports of the mission to come in. Yet hours had passed by without any word, and most of the staff had retired to rest when, finally, the call came in that the target had been sighted.
Now, the room was packed once more as the command staff crowded around the displays.
"The Necromancer has a heavy escort this time," one official remarked. "Should we call off the mission and wait for another opportunity?"
"Have Omega-191 hold position and keep eyes on the target," Maximo responded without hesitation. "Leave the decision to abort or proceed to them, they know the situation best."