Operation Blight Hawk

  The sun set behind the mountains, and darkness spread over the land. A thick black mist rolled in, leaving small fragments of light from the moon. Strange cracking and snapping sounds echoed everywhere. The eerie silence approached, with an occasional unnatural howl, the haunting stillness that pierced the soul. A bitter cold, followed by a harsh, gentle wind, biting the skin, yet cold enough to leave a thin layer of ice. The lack of sound left the world empty. No insects and wildlife could be seen as far as the eye could see through the dense fog. The land looked desolate, if it weren't for the haunting cries of either an unfathomable creature wailing in pain or a distant cry similar to a child's scream.

  The trees were blackened and twisted beyond recognition, making people fear they might attack. Their dark, warped branches looked like hands, and sometimes the bark would twitch.

  Despite the horrors, some still fought to survive. Soldiers stood at the edge of the blackened ground, marching slowly across the field of the dead. Their silver armor, lost in the darkness, could not cut through the black fog. Dirt, lifeless and gray, fell from their boots.

  The soldiers moved quietly to fortify the area, setting up barricades and building long walls about three or four feet high to provide cover. Towers were built for vantage points. They shaped the land for cover and traps. Soon, bases appeared, with tents and structures for planning, treating the wounded, storing equipment, and mostly for holding ammunition.

  Mounted turrets were placed on the barricades alongside cannons and motors. Next to those were an endless supply of ammunition. On top of the towers were mages, wizards, witches, sorcerers, or whoever they had. While at their feet were boxes of ether potions or their own weapon.

  Six large bases and many smaller ones surrounded a small town, each about five units away. Next to each base stood huge vehicles powered by magic and technology, armed with turrets and cannons, all aimed at the heart of what was once their home. Teams of soldiers and adventurers stood ready by each vehicle, prepared to defend their way of life.

  Everyone. Every adventurer, every soldier, every general, every vehicle, every ship that loomed behind the bases out of sight and sound, all were looking forward with one goal in mind.

  Containment.

  This was a one-sided battle. The longer the soldiers fought, the more the infection spread, threatening their home. Every fallen body joined the enemy's ranks.

  It was a battle of endurance, one the living would lose unless the Nest was destroyed.

  The assault team's job was to thin the horde before it broke through. Everyone else had to keep it contained until the riders from Drakelene arrived. If that meant slowly pushing toward the center, so be it.

  Each base had a small device at its center, built to create a protective magic barrier. Once these devices were activated, chaos would follow.

  "Operation Black Hawk will begin in five... four... three... two... one..."

  The devices in the center of the bases activated, and a blue, transparent shield rose, sealing the bases from the outside. Everyone outside the barrier began moving slowly toward the center.

  There was no sound—not even from animals. Only footsteps and snapping twigs broke the silence.

  Soon, a single cry rang out. A twisted abomination appeared, its head grotesquely split in two. One soldier tried to stand their ground, all their experience in training and hunting monsters, their face etched with many battles, felt fear creep into him. His hand shook, and his feet trembled at the abomination's sight. Bones, brains, and even eyes had been moved and changed, creating a nightmare more real than one could make. Yellow veins ran across its warped head and neck, as if it had tried to tear itself apart. Each twitch at the torso, with huge gaping mouths, not for eating but for biting, screamed in unison. Its legs were twisted, giving it an eerie, unnatural look on top of its already nightmarish appearance.

  The fiend's screaming made the soldiers stumble back in horror and fear. It looked like someone who had died in agony. When the creature turned toward the soldiers, drawn by the blue light from the bases, it let out a howl.

  The howl sounded like a banshee—a woman screaming in pain. The creature charged at the soldiers, who froze in fear for a moment. They reacted in time and opened fire. The fiend took every shot before collapsing, then crawled toward them. One soldier finished it off with an axe, chopping it into pieces.

  Soon, silence approaches, thickening. Eventually, almost suffocated all. Bloodthirsty cries echoed in the distance and slowly faded. The world fell into an unsettling stillness.

  The very ground started to tremble, and the air shook. The soldiers readied themselves as hundreds of warped creatures emerged into view.

  The soldiers lined up, raised their weapons, and fired. The vehicles, loaded with weapons, fired in bursts to clear out large groups of undead. Each monster was different from the last.

  As the blight seemed to fade and hope returned, the ground split open. Blackened roots shot up, stabbing through soldiers' armor and tossing their bodies aside.

  Adventurers tried to distract the monstrous roots, but more threats appeared. Twisted monsters, warped trees, giant insects, and even changed wildlife attacked. The faint, haunting clicking, like bones tapping erratically, grew louder. Birds, now larger and grotesque, swooped down at the survivors, their wings casting eerie shadows. The unmistakable acidic odor intensified as goblins with long, thin legs, missing eyes, and unhinged jaws crawled toward the bases. A terrifying sight loomed as a Wyvern, a dragon-like beast with only hind legs and wings, emerged, its gaping throat bubbling with black acid, capable of corroding everything it touched.

  Cannon fire took out many fiends. Vehicles moved forward, laying down suppressive fire and drawing the creatures' attention. Airships swooped down, dropping bombs. Radios buzzed with orders and screams across the battlefield.

  Adventurers fought alongside the soldiers, pushing back the creatures. A spider-like fiend tried to tear apart a soldier, but a coin shot through its hide. The coin, glowing yellow, flew back to its owner, Steoff.

  Steoff's personal collection straight from a dungeon, blessed by a God long forgotten. An item of simple devastation at the cost of all weaponry.

  Steoff tosses more coins. His aim was precise, targeting the fiend's vitals, slicing through joints and limbs of the fiend, immobilizing it. Soon, all the coins arced in the air, returning to Steoff as he threw the final coin, puncturing the fiend and exploding in blazing yellow light. Steoff turned, all the coins flying back to his hand.

  Steoff looked down at the soldier and shouted, "Well, don't just lie there! Trying to get killed, you wanker?"

  Wailing cries echoed around Steoff and the soldier. Several fiends rushed at them, their armor rusted and clothes torn, looking grotesque. Steoff stepped forward, twirling coins in his fingers. With each step, he threw a coin that pierced a creature's skin and exploded, leaving only scraps of undead flesh.

  The coins flew back to Steoff. Without looking, he ducked under a tree root that shot out at him. Spinning and dodging, he threw coins at the roots, each one exploding on contact and returning to his hand. The roots kept coming, pulling back in exaggerated movements.

  Steoff leaped into the air, spinning as coins circled him and struck every root that appeared. When he landed, he gathered the coins and slammed them into the ground. Golden light spread from the dead soil, cracks running toward the roots and following them far away. With loud golden explosions, the coins returned to his hands.

  While Steoff was distracted, a fiend that looked like an undead werewolf appeared from behind a tree, its head was missing fur, exposing its skull and upper jaw, while its lower jaw split into two. It lunged at Steoff with bone-like hands. He braced himself, but a minotaur appeared, grabbed the undead beast by the neck, and slammed it down, breaking its back. The minotaur's brown fur was covered in dark silver armor from head to hoof. Its bull-like head snorted smoke as it towered over Steoff, nearly twice his size.

  The minotaur was a fellow adventurer from the Guild.

  The undead werewolf cried out, twisting its back around, snapping and cracking bones and muscles until it was facing them. Contorting its own limbs, the undead werewolf howled, twisting its back and snapping bones until it faced them. It contorted its limbs to crawl forward, making both the minotaur and Steoff step back in disbelief and horror. Its saliva drips onto the ground. The minotaur took out an axe and sliced it down the middle.

  Both the Minotaur and Steoff looked at each other, then back towards the line of fiends running at them. Soldiers at their backs, the minotaur and Steoff exchanged a glance, then looked at the line of fiends charging at them. With soldiers behind them, they stood their ground. distance, magic spells shot out; fire and lightning obliterated the landscape, and earth erupted, chunks of debris landing across the forest.

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  William's perspective

  My ears rang when multiple ships flew past us, leaving a trail of blue lights behind. My heart raced, bracing myself for what was to come while watching. Objects fell from the ships, erupting on contact with the ground. It reminded me of the lights in Hearthglen, during the Festival of Souls, but this time for destruction.

  "Incoming fire!" A voice echoed across the ship we stood on.

  Without questioning it, I held onto the closest bar I could grab inside the ship. Looking over at my father, I saw he had done the same thing. The ship started shaking violently, throwing everyone off balance. Looking outside, spike-looking objects were hurled at us. Then, a sudden, piercing sound erupted in my ears, and a jarring impact shook through the hull beneath my feet. My body tensed, my teeth clenched from the scraping sound that came. Panic surged as I looked over my shoulder, glimpsing a large spike-like projectile that was tearing through the ship. Fear slowly crept up. The idea of the ship crashing flooded my mind, gripping the metal bar tighter, bending it in my hand.

  Taking a better look, I realized it was bones. Bones, reshaped and hardened to be used as arrows or javelins. My eyes went wide when a few more came up beneath me. Adrenaline took hold, leaping back as more pierced the ship in front of me. Cold, chilling winds blew into the ship at me, sending shivers down my spine.

  Markus came over and pulled me up off the ground. Shaking my head, I looked up towards Markus, who was shouting at Commander Lupin. "We need to drop!"

  "We need to what?" I cried out.

  The idea was absurd, but Commander Lupin agreed as another bone spike penetrated through the ship once more. The hull creaked with every second, rattling us all until we were falling over. Markus took my shoulder and led me to my father.

  My father held onto the railing next to Dimmal, both of them struggling to stay upright. Dimmal looked the worst. His wide eye no longer held his usual sharpness. "I miss my dragon!"

  "You're not going to like this then," Markus chuckled, leaping out of the hatch. I stared in disbelief, almost shaken by the idea of this man leaping out of a ship in mid-air.

  But then I realize he's immortal.

  Commander Lupin, struggling to hold himself up on the podium, spoke up. His words shaken, but not from emotion, but from annoyance. "You got a small window coming up. Take it."

  My father nodded, gesturing both Dimmal and me to the open bay. I grabbed hold of the railing and slowly made my way to the door. Wind picked up, brushing my hair all over the place. The stench of death filled my lungs. The raw heat from the ship's magic engine came in, and I can even feel myself begin to sweat.

  I notice the ship was descending rapidly. Within moments, we closed in on the ground. The grass flattened from the ship's engines, as if they were prepping for our feet to step on. Letting out a loud exhale, I closed my eyes and focused. Opening my eyes back up, I leapt off the ship.

  Bracing myself for the landing, it was rough and harsh. My legs rattled and ached, but I ignored the feeling and stood up, sword in hand. Dimmal and my father were behind me as the ship took off. Markus emerged, his massive sword in his hand.

  "Lets go!" Markus yelled, running deeper into the forest.

  Furrowing at him, I followed behind him, my feet slamming into the ground. Dirt picked up, and an explosion erupted near us, blocking our view. The first fiend arrived. A terrible-looking half-snake, half-man, a Lamia, slithers towards us. Markus was the first to engage, cutting horizontally; however, the lamia ducked under and wrapped around Markus. Before it could squeeze Markus to death, he swapped hand positions, holding the sword in a reversed grip, and thrust it behind him, piercing the undead fiend. It howled in pain as I saw two more rounds appear next to the original, where the sword stuck out. Quickly, Markus spun with the sword around him, cutting the fiend into three pieces with one cut.

  I watched in amazement. And confusion. How can a sword make three cuts from one attack?

  But these were for another time.

  Moving to Markus's side, a few more fiends arrived. My father took care of one, while the other approached me. It carried one axe in its hand, and the other was a blade made from its own bone. Disgusted, but I didn't yield. Ducking under its attack, I rammed my shoulder into it, pushing it back. I heard its bones in its legs cracked. Pushing forward before it could recover, I hacked at its bone arm, cutting it clean off, and following up with a cut to its neck. A clean cut, its own head rolling off, and its body collapsing.

  Looking up to see more fiends approaching, I kicked the head, only to make it explode from the force of the kick. I groan in disappointment. Ignoring the black blood on me, I looked back at the four fiends approaching me.

  Two humanoid, two beast-like creatures. The beasts resemble a wolf and a bear.

  Readying myself, I drew the attention of the two human-like fiends, brandishing weapons, as Markus and Dimmal took the beast ones. Markus ordered my father to assist them. Leaving me alone with the two fiends.

  One of the fiends held a sword, swinging wildly at me. The other did the same, preventing me from engaging one of them at a time. Leaping back, I stayed on the defensive, evading as much as possible and waiting for the right moment. My breathing grew faster with each roll. But I slowly focused on what I remembered.

  Exhaling slowly, I pushed off the ground, feeling the soil erupt, and dashed right into a fiend, sending it stumbling backwards. On instinct, I brought my sword up to block the other fiend's attack. Forming a fist in my hand, I pushed off the undead's attack and slammed my fist into its deformed face, pummeling it into the ground. Turning back around to the stumbling fiend, using an upper slash to cut its head off.

  Breathing in then out, I took my stance once again, for the final fiend, but my father arrived with a magic arrow to its head. Looking at him, he nodded and turned to Markus. "We push forward. Towards the Nest." Markus howled.

  Markus and Dimmal lead the charge, with my father and me behind. Looking up, I saw a monstrous-sized insect crash land a hundred feet in front of us. We didn't stop running; if anything, we picked up speed.

  Running past dead trees, leaping over uprooted roots, more fiends came into view. Dimmal took care of a few, ducking under a slash and cutting the creature in half. It didn't stop moving until Dimmal stepped on its head. The other fiend, however, exploded from an artillery canon.

  The sound reached us first, an ominous buzz that filled the air like a hive of angry hornets. My throat tightened as the source of this unnerving noise came into view. It was a massive wasp-looking fiend, standing up eight feet tall. Its legs were sharpened to a point, stabbing into the ground like knives. Its abdomen was narrowed to a single point, and two massive arms like scythes hung low. It turned towards us, its body all black. It lacked eyes, yet it could see. Its antenna twitched towards us. And it wasn't alone. My throat tightened at the swarm's buzz; dozens more of these menacing fiends surged forward. The sheer number made my heart race.

  Twenty more wasps stood up. My eyes widen in surprise, concern about the incoming horde. I froze for a moment, but Markus never stopped. He pushed forward, sword in hand. "Gwyn!" Markus shouted.

  Confused, I looked back towards my father. He lifted his bow-staff and slid across the ground, spinning awhile, channeling magic into his weapon, and forming an arrow. When he finally faced forward, he aimed the bow into the sky and fired. A whistle blew behind us, and the cloud gleamed in a sudden light like a firework.

  I looked forward, trailing behind Dimmal and Markus. Soon, hundreds of magic arrows descended from the sky, piercing into the wasp. Each one howled and cried, thrashing on the ground. Their wings were beyond damaged, their contorted joints stabbed and locked in place.

  The wasp's body started to morph, but Markus was already at them. He raised his sword over his shoulder and down his back; it lit up in a blazing orange-black flame. In a mad dash, Markus turned into a blur, like teaching me Trickster; an orange trail followed behind him, the ground erupting from the force of his feet.

  Focusing my vision, I watched Markus reappear among many wasps. He brought his sword and swung in around him, taking down a horde of wasps, lighting them ablaze. Dimmal followed behind, his sword gleaming a blue magical light as he slammed into a wasp, cutting it down.

  I was getting closer as well. Readying my sword, I panickly channeled magic into my legs and arms. Familiar heat spread across my body, like the warmth of a fire on a cold winter night, pushing back the prickling cold beneath my armor; my magic surged. My vision tunneled in, wind brushing past me, muscles tighten, I sped forward, and slashed at the closet wasp, taking its leg. The tunnel vision faded, and another turned to me, its leg ripped off from being locked in place by an arrow, swung its scythe. I felt my eyes tense slightly, realizing the attack was slower than usual. Pivoting to my right, I spun towards the wasp to add momentum to my next attack, cutting the wasp's head.

  Spinning back around, another wasp came into my view, lunging at me. Channeling magic into my vambra, I raised my arm and formed a fist. The familiar warmth of my magic was immediate, and I responded without delay. A golden shield appeared, separating the wasp and me. It slammed right into the shield, making my arm go tense from the pressure. I slid back on the ground, but I recovered my footing and pushed back against the wasp. Its mandibles snapping at my shield, I took a step forward, pushing it back, then another. With ease, I shove the wasp back, thrusting my sword into it, black blood spewing out onto my blade.

  Tossing the corpse to the side, I moved on to the next. I realized I was moving faster. Quicker. I realized this too late, unable to swing my sword in time as the wasp's mandibles closed in. Quickly, I threw my fist at it, before the wasp could bite down on me. The wasp's head slammed into the ground, giving me the chance to stab its head.

  Looking up over my shoulder, I quickly knelt to the ground. The warmth of my magic didn't falter, even when I wasn't channeling it. Kicking off, sword in hand, I spun, cutting across the air as another wasp attacks. My sword took its abdomen clean off. The upper half of its body continued to move, crawling helplessly, eager to fight. Not letting up, I kicked it, sending it flying into a nearby tree, where it turned to paste.

  The sound of something landing behind startled me. Raising my sword, I turned around, but only to see a dead wasp. A hole was blown through its body. Looking up, I saw my father. Running over to me, he spoke up. "You good?"

  Turning around, making sure we won't get hurt from talking. Dimmal finished the last wasp, making me relax a bit more. "Oh yeah. I'm good." I chuckled. Controlling my breathing, I wiped the blood off my sword.

  The sound of coughing erupted near us, making me, Dimmal, and my father turn towards it. It was Markus. Black veins appeared on his neck, making my heart race in dread. He's infected with the blight.

  A cold sweat formed over my neck and hand, gripping my sword tighter. Markus coughed harshly, like he was choking, but it wasn't turning. My father raised his bow-staff, ready to put him down. Dimmal did the same.

  Markus collapsed to his all fours, holding himself. His body jerked forward, his face turned pale, and his eyes were bulging out. Then he puked. The scent of decay or rotten flesh radiated immediately, adding to the sight of Markus. I almost puked on the spot myself. "That's nasty. God, I haven't felt sick in two years, but this killed it." Markus groaned.

  "You good," Dimmal asked.

  "I'm fine. I was infected, but my healing got rid of it. In a more nastier way." Markus answered, standing up, his face contorting in disgust, wiping his mouth, and spitting. "God, taste like shit."