Central District, Kingdom of Esperanto

The alien sound of crackling static echoed throughout the newly converted communication hall. King Esperanto and his advisors sat by American technicians, who were busy installing new equipment. While they tinkered away, a new transmission came in. 

“Evacuation of the Plaze District is almost complete, Your Highness!” Mortes’ voice came through from the other side.

King Esperanto breathed a sigh of relief, recalling how to operate the handheld radio as he fiddled with the device. “Thank the heavens,” He responded. He glanced at the technicians, concerned about their relative skittishness over this new threat. “The Emissaries say they have requested aerial reinforcements. They say the beasts should be dealt with long before they reach the walls. Some are confident; others, not quite as much.”

“Reinforcements? Should I cancel the evacuation, Your Highness?” Mortes asked.

Esperanto’s reply was firm. “No.” A brief pause followed before he continued, “While I do indeed have faith in the Emissaries, I still believe it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. Clearing the Plaze District should also allow for greater freedom of mobility for their reinforcements – so that they need not worry about navigating around panicking citizens.”

“Understood, Your Highness. I shall report back once the evacuations have completed in earnest.”

With the communication terminated, King Esperanto hung his head down for a moment, staring at the floor. Despite the existential worries barraging his conscience, he managed to regain composure. Closing his eyes, he tuned out the chatter in the room as he took a breath. “The final chapter,” he muttered to himself. “Salvation.”

—-

Plaze District

With the primary liaison to the Esperanto people – Ambassador Reiker – currently busy in the Central District, it now fell upon Captain Baker to serve as liaison to Esperanto’s military leaders. After resolving minor, last-minute logistical matters in Camp Kaiju, Baker led a response force to Plaze to help the locals evacuate and to help reinforce the region. Considering the overwhelming force brought to bear, it was not necessary to set up defenses. Regardless, the diplomatic team thought it might result in a more favorable impression of the already-legendary ‘Emissaries’. 

Like many of his men, Baker didn’t mind getting a front seat view of a once-in-a-lifetime monster slaying. However, the unknown nature of the beast itself, coupled with the near-imperviousness of its film counterparts, led him to develop second thoughts about their expected victory. Although all of their interactions with the locals of this world have thus far been generally in the favor of the Americans, a part of him wondered if facing this Aji Dhaka would be their first surprise.

This sentiment was most pronounced in none other than his close friend Nakamoto, known for his avid consumption of Japanese monster fiction and high fantasy. In a blatant reflection of his concerns, he asked about the reinforcements. “How many birds are they sending us?”

“Three squadrons, two for a bombing run on the mass of Bloodhounds and one for the dragon,” he said amidst the rattling and shaking of their JLTV as it traversed the rough, natural terrain.

“Will that be enough?”

Baker shrugged, “Should be. If not, a second wave should be here within half an hour. Last resort, we use cruise missiles. The destroyers and subs are in range.”

Nakamoto frowned, still not satisfied with the multi-layered plan. “Do we have a contingency for retreat?”

The more Baker thought about their defensive network and the general fragility of Elysian wildlife, the less he worried about their survival. He stressed, “I really doubt it will come to that. In any case, our vehicles are faster than the monsters, so we’ll be able to get out.” Sparing a glance at Nakamoto to gauge his reaction, Baker saw that he was still unconvinced. 

Their vehicle stopped by the outer gates of the Plaze district, where tanks were already set up.

“Look,” Baker said, checking his watch, “The Navy’s flyboys are about to be here any second. Let’s just sit back, and enjoy the show,” he said reassuringly, giving Nakamoto a pat on the back while they walked toward the wall.

On cue, bright glints emerged from the horizon. The arrival of reinforcements was received as a divine blessing by the locals – some of whom dropped to their knees and began praying. In contrast, the Americans cheered and hollered, embracing the sound of jets slicing through the air overhead. They flew toward a dark mass on the opposite horizon, identifiable as the monster horde when using spotting equipment.

Baker stood atop the wall, watching the engagement with his binoculars. The jets slowed down and descended uniformly, maintaining formation as they did so. The formation was spread out enough to minimize the margin of error and guarantee that every target would be struck. They flew side by side over the monsters, simultaneously releasing dozens of CBU-100 cluster bombs.

The bombs each released hundreds of bomblets that eviscerated the thin hides of the creatures below. Thousands of small, luminous flashes erupted all over the formation of Cursed Bloodhounds, forming a cloud over their bodies. Riddled with fragments and suffering from singes all over their ruined fur, many of the creatures died in the first strike. Some stragglers remained, suffering from similar injuries and ruptured organs. They were ravaged by the rapid assault, stuck in place due to both shell shock and debilitating injuries. The attack was subsequently followed by another from the squadron behind, which easily cleaned up the crawling survivors.

The men spectating the event cheered, celebrating the destruction of the Cursed Bloodhounds. Baker smiled at the smoke in the distance, putting down his binoculars as he jabbed at Nakamoto, “Piece of cake, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded.

They were then interrupted by a new communication, which Baker promptly answered. He stood silently, listening to his earpiece. After a moment, he pulled out his tablet and reviewed an information packet, causing his expression to sour. He quickly left the jubilant pride from the victory against the Bloodhounds and adopted a more serious tone as he patched into his mens’ communications. Grabbing their attention, he relayed new orders from command, “Our flyboys found a new target trailing behind that dragon: a light vehicle. Intel suggests that this is most likely Darkshield Blancmar himself! Our orders are to intercept and capture him! We’ll reposition near his location and wait for the dragon to fall. Once it does, we move in and secure the target. You should all be receiving coordinates on your maps. Let’s move!”

Baker’s men hurriedly climbed down from the walls and jumped into their vehicles. The vehicles all moved to the west, away from the mountain range and the trajectory of the mythical Aji Dhaka. They all followed their tactical maps, moving along the route proposed by command and tracking the movement of the target vehicle while they did so. Baker’s forces closed the distance quickly, stopping by a small pocket of forest directly west of the airstrike’s designated location.

There, under cover of thick vegetation, they watched. The lumbering monster moved quickly for its size, catching up to the Cursed Bloodhound graveyard. It sniffed and poked at the remains of the dead beasts, stopping to feast on the charred, mangled bodies below. Its massive heads cleared the heap of bodies in record time, each head scooping up several bodies at once and wasting no more than a few seconds before grabbing another mouthful. Within minutes, the bodies were all eaten up, with the exception of a few small remains. Seemingly unsatisfied with its meal, it continued south toward the Kingdom of Esperanto.

Above the kingdom itself, numerous glints loitered in the air, circling around as they waited for the beast’s movements to coincide with their scheduled attack. A few moments after the beast resumed its movements the inert jets roared to life, getting into formation in quick succession. The planes blasted away from the kingdom’s outer districts and rushed toward the skyscraper-sized dragon, launching a variety of missiles at it.

Heeding the advice given by General Bahara, the jets fired from over 20 miles away to avoid the Aji Dhaka’s legendary breath attacks. They launched these missiles toward the monster’s necks, hoping to decapitate them all at once. The missiles were comprised primarily of air-to-air AIM-120 AMRAAMs – meant to strike the beast’s heads and serve as decoys for any potential defenses the creature might have – and air-to-ground AGM-65 Mavericks – meant to strike the necks. A few of the missiles were larger AGM-158 LRASMs, which would deal the finishing blow if the smaller Mavericks were insufficient.

The dragon, sensing incoming danger fast approaching, chose to protect its heads from the air-to-air missiles, channeling its magical energies to fire a cloud of lightning from its mouths, swatting many of the AMRAAMs. Enough missiles survived to then distract the beast further, temporarily blinding it as they detonated, taking out small chunks of the Aji Dhaka’s heads. It reeled back from the explosions, bringing its wings up to shield itself as it roared in pain. 

The next round of missiles made short work of the monster’s wings and arms, tearing them apart and clearing a relatively open path to the necks. Unfortunately, monster necks were an unconventional target. As such, some of the missiles impacted the torso and stomach of the Aji Dhaka, doing little damage. However, the extensive destruction done to the creature’s body left it with little to defend against the final barrage of missiles – the LRASMs. The larger missiles impacted the Aji Dhaka with remarkable effectiveness and accuracy, completely severing the left and right necks. The final missile hit a little below the middle neck, injuring it severely but leaving it intact.

This revelation came as a point of significant confusion for Baker, who immediately radioed his superiors, “Hostile dragon has NOT been eliminated.” He eyed the soft light emanating from the gory holes in the beast’s skin, “It looks to be… regenerating?”

“Standby, Captain,” a female voice replied. After a brief pause, she returned to the radio and said, “Cruise missiles are en route. Wait for confirmed elimination before proceeding with the capture of HVT.”

Toward the sea, a series of bright lights soared into the sky, launched from ship-based weapons platforms. Tomahawk cruise missiles singled onto their target: the stationary Aji Dhaka. Cutting through the air at Mach speeds, they left smoky contrails behind them, much to the fascination of Esperanto locals watching below. In minutes, the missiles reached Baker’s position, striking the massive beast one after another. A total of six sequential detonations occurred, enough to completely vaporize what remained of the other necks and successfully destroy the middle neck.

“Hostile dragon has been eliminated,” Baker said. “HVT has broken off and is moving west. All forces, move to intercept!”

Ten JLTVs moved north, positioning themselves along an intercept course relative to Darkshield’s vehicle. Five move northwest to set up an ambush while the other five moved northeast, to chase Darkshield’s vehicle and corral it toward their trap. 

As they approached Darkshield’s vehicle, they took shots at it — close enough to scare the driver, but far enough to not risk killing him. The environment to the north was barren, sparse with life of any kind. Numerous rocky formations and hills, however, presented significant obstacles that helped Baker’s men corner Darkshield. By a valley-like formation, the rest of Baker’s men waited. Marksmen lay at the ready, rifles trained at the approaching vehicle. 

The moment Darkshield’s vehicle came within 100 meters, a series of shots pierced the tires, sending the car skidding to a halt. Reacting quickly, Darkshield jumped out of the vehicle and prepared to dash away. Five bullets then impacted the ground in front of him, sending columns of dirt up.

Darkshield raised his hands slowly, eyes analyzing the men surrounding him. Recognizing that there was no way out of this situation, he attempted to invoke diplomacy, “You lot are the Americans, I presume?”

Baker approached him from behind, rifle at the ready. “Indeed we are. Mister Darkshield Blancmar, we’ve come to eliminate the threat against the Esperanto Kingdom. We can do this the easy way…” He paused dramatically, moving his rifle subtly, “Or the hard way.”

Darkshield scoffed, “You have no jurisdiction here; this is unclaimed international territory!” He then grinned slyly, “I also reckon that your foreign affairs body wouldn’t enjoy the unjustified capture of an Annonrial individual.”

To Darkshield’s mortified surprise, Baker responded, “Don’t worry; our foreign affairs department knows of you all too well. Dealing with your angry diplomats is the least of our concerns. Surrender, and we will ensure that the people of Esperanto spare your life.”

Darkshield glared at Baker, who returned the gesture. “Very well,” he sighed, relenting. “I surrender.”