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——

October 25, 1639

The Gate of the World, Topa Kingdom

Posted upon an observation tower, a young man with unkempt dark hair yawned. He leaned back on his chair lazily while his friend paced around, radiating anxiety. The shuffling of his friend’s armor eventually became annoying, causing the young man to finally speak. 

“Moah, will you quit that? How is a man supposed to get some rest around the restless?”

“The Americans said that a large group of ten thousand demons is currently marching here! Gai, I know not if all mercenaries are as carefree as yourself, but are you not terrified?” Moah said with exasperation. 

Gai shrugged. “What’s there to be terrified of?” He asked rhetorically as a squadron of metal dragons flew overhead, escorting several larger aircraft. “Here,” he offered a pair of binoculars. “I heard from some friends who were at the military festival in Fenn that these Americans possess powerful explosion magic and repeating muskets that can shoot dozens of times faster than Parpaldian weapons. They also have these… guided light arrows that explode on impact!”

Moah, still unconvinced, shook his head. “Ehh, I think those are exaggerations.”

“Nah, just take a look!” Gai used his binoculars to spectate the fleet of American aircraft. 

Moah followed suit, and trailed the flying gargantuans as they made their way toward Demon Lord Nosgorath’s camp. The American aircraft pulled up, shrinking into tiny specks. Looking back down at the camp, Moah clearly saw Nosgorath shuffling about, somehow aware of the coming attack. 

Nosgorath began chanting and hastily erected an incredibly large Kaiser Golem, a large autonomous mech-like rock golem. “Wow, I’ve never seen powerful magic like that before!” Moah said with a shiver. 

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait,” Gai said. 

Nosgorath looked up, seemingly eyeing the aircraft. Moah was astonished at how the demon lord was able to locate the threat. “What eyesight does he have?! We can barely see the flying machines with these scopes!”

Nosgorath then cast a shield over himself, just moments before small dark objects rained down upon his camp. An area larger than several acres was soon engulfed in flames and ashes as mighty explosions ripped through his troops without mercy, even shattering the exhaustively created Kaiser Golem. Moah’s jaw dropped at the sight. 

An entire demon army was leveled with air superiority. Without even meeting their foes on the battlefield, the Americans simply laid waste to the demons, not risking a single soul against them. Moah watched as the aircraft flew back toward the gate, their mission completed. 

At first, he was skeptical of these newcomers and their magicless technology. For some reason, his superiors deemed it necessary to secure a defense treaty with the Americans as fast as possible. Now, he understood this reason: overwhelming firepower. The columns of smoke rising up from the distance only served to cement this revelation. Nothing was left unscathed, not even the mighty Nosgorath, who stumbled about as the dust settled and the smoke cleared. His flickering magic shield faltered. Realizing his vulnerability, Nosgorath quickly ran into the smoke, disappearing from sight. 

Gai whistled at the spectacle, clapping his hands. “Well, a demon lord turning tail! Would ya look at that!”

Moah could only shake his head with his mouth agape. Speechless, he was still awestruck by the punishment inflicted upon Nosgorath and his minions. The last time Nosgorath was fought back, the Allied Races’ greatest heroes were sacrificed. In comparison, the Americans sacrificed nothing, aside from whatever sustenance they provided to their aircraft and the weapons they deployed. Additionally, their power wasn’t just limited to four invaluable warriors. According to his superiors, they had thousands upon thousands of aircraft at their disposal. 

“So… times really have changed,” Moah finally took in the information he was exposed to. “For the better?”

“Maybe for the races of the world. As for me, I’m just hoping I still get paid.”

Gai’s carefree demeanor helped alleviate some of the tension building up within Moah. He chuckled at his friend’s comment. “Of course. But I’m willing to bet that’s not the only thing you’ve been hoping for.”

Gai turned red as he realized who Moah was talking about. “Well, yes… That too, but it can’t be helped if I’m hired and sent somewhere else. Ugh! I really hope I can keep this position here while the Americans do the hard work for us.”

“Keeping this position isn’t really important if you’re not making the most out of it. You’ve got to do more than just visit her and say ‘hi’.”

Gai sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll.. I’ll try to think of something. Thanks, Moah.”

——

Demon Lord’s Army Headquarters

“Master! What happened?” A tall humanoid with a reddish appearance asked. 

Nosgorath panted as he walked into his command chamber, his tired figure illuminated by the flickering torches along the walls. Although he suffered no scars or scratches from the battle (due to his innate healing abilities as a demon lord), he suffered a mental defeat. Clearly, something had shaken him. His normal arrogance and disgust of the inferior races, along with his constant comments on the tastiness of humans, were replaced with fear. 

“Master?” A tall bluish humanoid asked. 

“Red and Blue Ogres…” Nosgorath muttered while he plopped down on his throne, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. He curled his hands into fists, shaking with rage and disbelief. “The Star God’s emissaries were already waiting for us! It’s been centuries… millennia… and they are still present?! And what’s worse: their technology seems to have progressed.”

“I remember their metal land dragons and the bombardment from their metal ships! I fear that we may face certain doom, especially if they have brought more forces than last time.”

Nosgorath nodded in understanding. “Even so, I can sense that our creators will soon return. No matter the strength of the Star God’s lackeys, we must complete our tasks. Now more than ever, it is imperative that we stay true to our objectives. The Star God’s messengers have clearly grown more powerful from last time, judging by the speed of their flying ships.”

The Blue Ogre wilted at this. “How are we supposed to defeat them? Could the creators even defeat them?”

Nosgorath laughed at the preposterous question. “Without a doubt! It is obvious you lot are ignorant, since you have never seen them personally. I can assure you though, the creators were… are… the apex civilization. I was worried earlier because the Star God’s warriors had somehow managed to develop aircraft that travel faster than sound, but this is still beneath the mages’ fighters, which can travel twice as fast as the speed of sound. While the Star God’s warriors pose more of a threat now than before, they are still a foe that cannot hope to meet up to the standards of the Mage Emperor’s forces.”

As Nosgorath spoke, he noticed the ogres’ attitudes lifting; they were motivated by his explanations. His explanations were so convincing that the more he listened to himself, the more he believed that the Star God’s emissaries were not a threat. Despite this, a tinge of logic remained — a reminder that reality is never as forgiving as one would hope it to be. 

——

Tormis, Topa Kingdom

A fortified castle town, Tormis represented a key line of defense should the Gate of the World ever be breached. Due to the size of the American forces deployed in the region, the Topans allowed the Americans to set up their airfield and other facilities in Tormis. It was the closest town large enough to accommodate their forces and equipment. 

Horseless carriages roamed through the narrow streets while the American iron land dragons were limited to the main roads and the city outskirts. Flying carriages fluttered about with items dangling from their underbellies: supplies for the upcoming mission. One of these flying carriages headed straight for Caste Tormis and set down upon a field, unloading several sharply dressed men, along with their security detail.

Moah easily identified the men in stylish coats as high-ranking officers, but wondered why their subordinates had such barbaric uniforms. Their security detail wore no armor, but were equipped with black staves that looked more menacing than Parpaldian muskets. He reasoned that, like Parpaldian infantry, these men had rejected the metal armor commonly associated with knights because their weapons simply rendered such defenses useless. 

Moah held his hand up as he walked toward the carriage, fighting against the gales produced by the turbine above. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Topa! I’m Sir Moah, and I will be escorting you to the meeting!” 

“Well met, Sir Moah,” a man in a white dress uniform stepped forward to shake his hand. “I’m Admiral William Hawthorne of the United States Seventh Fleet.”

“Colonel Henson, United States Marine Corps,” the other well-dressed man shook his hand. Colonel Henson’s uniform was dark blue in contrast to Hawthorne’s white, clearly differentiating their respective branches. 

“Well then, I truly appreciate your assistance in fending off the Demon Lord. Seeing your power with my own eyes convinced me that hope still exists,” Moah said. 

“No problem, Sir Moah. Although, you ought to be thanking the Air Force for that one. Unfortunately, General Hammond can’t make it to this meeting, but you’ll have an opportunity another time.”

“Understood, Admiral.”

As the group made their way inside the castle, they encountered numerous cheering civilians. Word of American achievements throughout Rodenius and even the most recent defense of Fenn against pirates had spread throughout the Third Civilized Region. Among those who were interested in the Americans, the Topans were at the top of the list due to pressure from a potential demon invasion. As such, they became infatuated with tales of American heroism and figuratively likened their soldiers to knights in shining armor. Of course, the barbaric appearance of the security detail did not diminish the Topan residents’ hope. 

The attitudes of the Topan military officials were similarly upbeat; they greeted the Americans with smiles and healthy compliments. A gray-haired man in silver armor and a fluttering, crimson cape began introduced himself. 

“Esteemed American warriors! I hope this doesn’t get too annoying, but we once again thank you for your help, unlike those arrogant Parpaldians… Anyway, I’m Ajieze, Commander of the Topa Kingdom Demon Lord Subjugation Squad.”

After a round of introductions and brief pleasantries, the meeting commenced in earnest, quickly diving into the topic of demons. Much to the surprise of the Americans, the descriptions of various demons such as orcs and goblins heavily resembled those of modern fantasy, with a few exceptions. Aides noted key details of enemy capabilities while the officers chatted, discussing history, geography, and strategy. 

“... So then, are you offering to allow us to purchase your weapons?” Ajieze asked after a short silence. 

“Not quite. As part of the agreements our diplomats signed with your king, the defense of this country will be a joint operation, handled mostly by our men. Instead of defending though, we would like to propose an offensive. If we were to eliminate this… Demon Lord, how would that affect the remaining demons?”

Ajieze thought about the suggestion. If such a proposal had been brought up years ago, he would have deemed it suicidal. However, with the strength of the Americans, the impossible was now possible. “That… could work,” he said with a hint of optimistic surprise. “Sir Moah, what do you think?”

“Hmm… Although this has never been attempted due to the sheer ridiculousness of the idea itself, I think the Americans have a reasonable chance at succeeding. We would just need —” Moah was cut off by the sound of screaming outside. 

“What the hell?” 

A dark object crashed through the window, landing away from the meeting room’s table. All eyes turned to face the object and the American Marines readied their weapons, with even Colonel Henson and Admiral Hawthorne drawing their sidearms. A tense couple of seconds passed by as the object grew in size, forming into a hooded humanoid figure with claws and talons. 

With a sinister laugh, it announced its presence. “Filthy humans! Trying to attempt the impossible, are we?”

Moah gasped in shock. “The Demon Lord’s aide, Malastriss!”

“Ah, someone who appreciates -ACK!”

Upon the confirmation that the creature was indeed in league with the Demon Lord, a flurry of bullets flew toward Malastriss. The Topan knights had no time to react, and upon seeing the torment brought down upon the demon, they maintained their distance, not wanting to get in the way of the hail of bullets. They could only sit back and watch in silent awe as the evil creature was torn to shreds.

One of the marines was fortunate enough to be equipped with a shotgun loaded with magically enchanted dragon’s breath rounds. Blue sparks scorched Malastriss as he screamed in agony, gurgling blood. The wall behind him was peppered with bullet holes and scorch marks, a testament to the sheer firepower that American infantry wielded. Within seconds, the demon slumped to the ground, unmoving and bleeding from nearly a hundred places. 

“Is it dead…?” Hawthorne asked. 

Ajieze walked up to the body and poked it with his sword. “Should be,” he said with wide eyes. “Goodness,” he turned to the Americans. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done here.”

“No problem,” Hawthorne said. “And… sorry about the wall.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about the wall! The demon that you’ve just slain here has been an incredible thorn in our sides… He’s killed over a hundred knights and a destroyed wall is a more than desirable price for the demise of Malastriss.”

“Mind if I add something else to that price?”

“I’m listening,” Ajieze said. 

“Could we take the body for research? We’ll probably also ask for your expertise during the autopsy.”

“I find this offer… acceptable.”

“Excellent,” Hawthorne smiled. “Now, where were we… Oh right, Sir Moah. You were saying?”

“Right. We would just need to identify the base of Nosgorath. We haven’t done much scouting, but if he hasn’t relocated since the last time the Allied Races pushed him back, then he should be here,” he pointed to a spot on a map. “Using your aircraft, I believe a simple ‘bombing run’ might suffice.”

“Hmm, I’ll relay this to the Air Force. Are there any civilians in this stronghold?”

Moah shook his head. “No. They are likely out of food supplies, which is why they’ve sent a force to the Gate of the World.”

“I see. Well, these were some interesting talks. I just hope this Nosgorath doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.”