The sound of boots hitting metal ramps filled the air as the first group climbed into the Pave Low. Crew chiefs waved them in, strapping gear and securing cargo. The rotors thundered again, blowing dust and straw across the square.
Harvin and the villagers watched, eyes wide as the two giant machines began to lift off, their massive blades cutting the air.
"Elder Harvin!" Albert shouted over the roar. "We'll return once the temple's clear! Keep your people inside the walls until then!"
"Are you sure no goblins will come to us?" Harvin replied back with a shout.
"There shouldn't be, we cleared them all out," Albert said and added. "Stay vigilant just in case!"
The two MH-53M Pave Lows slowly lifted off the ground, kicking up a storm of dust that swirled through the square. Villagers shielded their faces, robes and straw hats whipping in the wind as the iron beasts began their ascent.
The ground trembled. The thatched roofs groaned. For the people of Aldo, it was as if the gods themselves were tearing the air apart.
"Look! They're flying!" a child yelled, pointing upward.
The helicopters rose higher, the massive twin birds of steel turning their noses northward. Their landing lights swept across the village one last time, flashing over wide-eyed faces, half-collapsed fences, and the wooden palisade that still stood scarred from the battle.
Inside Eagle One, Albert sat near the open ramp, wind roaring past his helmet. The night stretched ahead, dark, endless, and silent except for the beating of the rotors. Ward leaned against the bulkhead beside him, checking his rifle one last time.
"Three clicks north," Ward said over the intercom. "Temple ruins marked on Predator's feed."
Albert nodded. "Then that's where we end this."
In Eagle Two, Major Claes glanced out his window, watching the first chopper's tail lights slice through the clouds. His Marines sat strapped in, silent and ready.
"Can't believe we're doing this," one muttered.
Claes smirked. "Welcome to another day in hell, boys."
"Sir, I was hoping you beat the shit out of that Commander," one of his men said.
"Don't worry, he'll have his time."
The night air was thin and cold as Eagle One and Eagle Two soared above the forest canopy, their rotors thundering through the darkness. The treeline below was a jagged sea of black, broken only by glowing streaks of fire and scattered embers still burning from Spooky-1's earlier bombardment.
"Eyes on the site," Ward reported over the intercom. "Thermal feed shows residual heat pockets, looks like half the forest's been cooked."
Albert leaned closer to the open ramp. From his vantage point, the devastation stretched for hundreds of meters. The once-dense woodland was now an open graveyard of shattered trees and smoking craters. The ground glowed faintly red where phosphorus rounds had burned through the soil.
"Damn," one Atlas operator muttered. "Looks like hell down there."
"Spooky-1 did its job," Albert replied, his tone flat. "Let's hope there's something left to investigate."
Eagle Two banked slightly to the right, moving into formation. Claes's voice crackled through the radio. "You seeing this, Commander? Your gunship practically leveled the place."
Albert keyed his mic. "Copy that, Major. I wanted them thinned out, not vaporized. Still, better scorched earth than another horde."
Claes grunted in agreement. "Yeah, I'll take craters over casualties any day."
Both choppers began to descend, circling the edge of the destruction. From above, the terrain looked alien, massive craters overlapping one another, like the scars of a meteor storm. Smoke curled lazily from charred roots and smoldering goblin corpses scattered across the blast zone.
"Jesus…" one Marine whispered as they passed over the center. "They didn't stand a chance."
Ward pointed toward a dark structure at the northern edge of the ruin—a stone temple half-buried in earth and ash. Its walls were cracked, the surrounding ground blackened, but it still stood.
"Visual on the objective," Ward confirmed. "That's our target."
Albert's expression hardened. "Alright. We're putting down two hundred meters east of that ruin. LZ looks clear enough for both birds."
"Roger that," Claes answered. "Eagle Two moving to shadow position."
The pilots adjusted course. The sound of the rotors deepened as they lowered altitude, stirring clouds of ash and dust. Sparks and burnt leaves scattered into the air as the MH-53s hovered low, floodlights slicing through the smoke.
"Landing zone confirmed," the crew chief called out. "Minimal debris. We're green."
"Copy. Atlas will secure first perimeter," Albert said, grabbing his rifle and signaling his men.
Claes's reply came sharp and dry. "We'll take rear guard. Just don't get us killed."
The helicopters flared, landing gear sinking slightly into the scorched soil. The ramps dropped with a metallic clang, and squads of soldiers poured out, Atlas to the east, Marines to the west.
Albert looked around, the glow of distant embers reflecting in his visor. "Welcome to the aftermath," he muttered. "Stay sharp. Anything that survived this… isn't normal."
Ward scanned the perimeter through his thermal scope. "No movement. Just residual heat signatures from bodies. Dozens of 'em."
Claes joined them, rifle slung, eyes narrowing at the temple ahead. "Looks like your bogeymen got their asses handed to them. But that place…" he pointed toward the ruin's entrance, "still gives me a bad feeling."
Albert nodded. "Good. Keep that feeling. It means you're alive."
"So how are we going to play this?"
"Carefully of course," Albert replied. "We'll enter the temple now, keep your eyes sharp."