"Target neutralized," Ivan breathed, the words barely a whisper against the wind.
Leila watched from the turret, her half body perched out of the hatch, her hands gripping the rim so hard her knuckles were white. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the massive fallen shape behind Ivan. The dying purple pulse from the Cerus lit Ivan's silhouette in a ghostly violet glow until the light finally ebbed away, leaving only the cold moonlight.
Leonard threw open the loader's hatch beside her, hauled himself up, and peered into the dark. "Sire Ivan! Art thou whole? Speak to us!" he implored, his knightly voice thick with concern.
Ivan turned his head to see them both perched atop the iron beast. "Yeah, I think so," he answered, his voice flat and emotionless. He looked up at Leila, who was still frozen in shock. "Leila, tell me. Is this bastard already dead?"
Leila finally snapped back, blinking rapidly. "Y-yeah... let me check." She closed her eyes and spread her shaking hands toward the monster, casting her senses through the air. "Yes. I don't detect any mana from it anymore," she confirmed.
Ivan let out a small, jagged breath of relief. Deep in the hull, Jusis watched through the gunner's scope. Hearing the confirmation, he finally let his cold, slick hands fall from the fire controls and pressed them against his forehead. "Finally..." he breathed.
Ivan glanced up at the sky behind the tank. A bright azure signal light continued to glow from the East Sector. They were in the West, and even with the Abrams' turbine screaming, a ten-kilometer sprint across Manilia would take several minutes. He looked at the mage. "Leila."
"Yes, Mister Ivan?"
"Is it correct that earlier, the East Sector let out a green light signal?" Ivan inquired.
Leila tilted her head, pressing an index finger to her cheeks. "Yes, I remember it too. But... how could they?"
Ivan looked away, his jaw tightening. A green signal meant they had successfully killed a Cerus in the East, yet the azure light, the marker for a Cerus sighting, was still burning bright. The math didn't add up. It meant the East had managed to take one down, but they were already being hunted by another.
Leo crossed his arms, his voice deep and formal. "Hmm. It seems Macthur can pull some miracle, or perhaps his experience on killing Cerus put into use."
"Really? Woah, that is unbelievable!" Jusis's voice crackled over the intercom.
"Everything tonight is unbelievable," Leila responded to him, her gaze lingering on the dark horizon. "And I'm afraid there is still more."
Jusis let out a heavy sigh. "I just want this night to end."
Ivan glanced once more at the fallen Cerus. It was the toughest enemy they had met—agile, lethal at range, and possessing claws that could shred steel. It had even withstood a 120mm direct hit. He knew that even with depleted uranium armor, they weren't invincible. He needed to be more cautious. He needed to plan.
He began walking back toward the driver's hatch, but a weak, high-pitched buzzing sound stopped him. Then, a loud, rhythmic screeching tore through the sky—a sound like thousands of leathery wings beating the air.
"What is that?!" Ivan snapped.
"Oh no, those are the Corrupted Wyverns," Jusis replied, his voice trembling with horror. "The ones that attacked our town. They are already here... oh no."
"Tsk!" Ivan gritted his teeth, looking at the dark clouds swirling above. "Now I need anti-air support..."
Captain Macthur and his men braced themselves as another Chthonic Cerus loomed over them. They could feel the rhythmic, bone-shaking thud of each step, but none of them dared to retreat. Their only tank lay in a heap of smoldering wreckage and they were out of ballista bolts.
They held their position with nothing but raw magic and physical strength. It was seemingly hopeless, but they stood their ground. Macthur spoke, his voice deep and resolute. "Men, tonight we took down a Cerus through our own strength and intelligence. Now, we will take another with us. Even if it takes a hundred of us, we will bring this thing down. We have hope now, fighting on the other side. This is our fight to bring that hope to light, to the morning we want. We stand and we defend. Prepare yourselves!"
Macthur's men were shaking with fear, but not a single soul broke formation. It was do or die. There was no other choice. But just as the Cerus coiled its muscles to leap at them, the air changed.
"Hold this position!" Macthur shouted.
The men braced for the impact, but suddenly, a strange buzzing sound drifted down from the sky. It grew louder and more aggressive every second, a heavy sound so piercing it began to drown out the monster's growl. Macthur looked up and saw a silhouette against the moon. It was shaped like a bird, but it was weird because the wings were not flapping.
Without warning, the Chthonic Cerus, a massive, pangolin-like creature burst into a localized sun of flames and exploded. The shockwave sent a spray of dirt and gore over the soldiers, forcing them to shield their eyes with their arms.
"What the hell was that?!" Suther, the vice captain, exclaimed as he shook the dust from his brown hair.
"I don't know. I thought it was a bird or a wyvern, but the sound is so strange," the old man Garlan replied, his voice trembling.
The soldiers were puzzled, whispering in awe about the sudden salvation. But Captain Macthur remained silent, his eyes locked on the moonlit silhouette of the strange thing gliding above.
"A craft with wings that do not flap, gliding through the air with the grace of a bird, yet producing a heavy sound louder than a swarm of bees or hornets," Macthur spoke softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hm. Another promise of yours came to life, huh?" he whispered as if talking to a ghost.
Hearing Macthur's mysterious words, Suther could only ask, "What do you mean by that?"
Macthur glanced at him, his smile widening before he returned his gaze to the night sky. "Humanity can fly now."
High above, inside the mysterious craft, a man with long black hair sat in the open cockpit. He wore a leather flight helmet and glass-rimmed goggles that reflected the flickering fires below. The machine had four wings and a motor at the nose that vibrated violently, shaking the entire wooden frame.
"It seems the bomb I created is capable of killing a Cerus. To think that years of building that weapon would be gone in an instant," the man muttered. He lifted his goggles, revealing a face that looked to be in its late twenties. He had a light beard and a forehead lined with the weariness of dark circles under his azure eyes. "Well, it did what it was intended to do. I guess it was worth the years I spent creating it."
The craft was a biplane, its frame built of sturdy wood with an upper and lower wing. The engine, forged from crude metal, rattled with a rhythmic intensity as the propeller chopped through the cold night air.
The pilot scanned the wide, circular span of Manilia. From his height, he could see the lanterns of empty streets and the pulsing lights of combat in every direction. "It seems what he said came true. This town is being attacked by numerous Cerus. But why now?" the man pondered. "Good thing I made it in time."
He glanced at a circular gauge on the dash. The needle was hovering dangerously close to the edge. "I already used my fuel reserve getting here. Even if I wanted to return, I have nothing left in the tanks. A one-way trip."
The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper—a paper airplane. "I already did it, Tiger. But now what? Is your promised man already here?" He looked at the paper with a melancholic gaze, but the moment was shattered by a loud, piercing screech.
Even over the heavy sound of his engine, he could hear it. He felt the surge of mana before he saw the shape. A Corrupted Wyvern was diving through the clouds, its eyes locked onto the strange, non-flapping bird.