CHAPTER 21

NOTORIOUS UNIT
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Everyone looked up when they heard the distinctive humming of several twin-bladed air transports. A flock of wyverns moved away when a fleet of black-painted CH-47G Chinooks appeared. M134 rotary guns shredded any flying lizard that got on their way. Escorted by two black-painted AH64 Apaches, they conquered the sky. Their distinctive appearances stole the attention of every regular branch that fought down there. Bearing the logo of a beretted monster skull with cross machetes, Detachment of Monster Eradication had arrived.

“Silver Fork, pick up the package. He is a type C, boy. One of a kind. Make him feel like home.”

“Roger that.”

One of Chinook left the fleet and landed on tactical LZ that guarded by a marine mechanized brigade. Two skull-masked soldiers came out of the door and made a perimeter. After picking up a wounded masked soldier, the heavy air transports flew away.

“Ooo Yggdrasil, finally, I will be back to Valora.”

Varg put down his skull mask and swept blood away from his nose. His battle against Meganodrake left so many wounds that remained hurt. Sitting down on Chinook's hard seat, he glanced at one of his broken legs from the last fight. Some of his ribs must be cracked. Not to mention his internal bleeding after getting slammed like a broken doll.

“Not bad, greenie.”

The elven prince raised an eyebrow when another person with skull mask spoke in English. “Are we in international school or something?”

“International club of freaks.”

Hearing the joke, Varg showed a slight grin. Even laughing was hurtful. He volunteerly held out his leg when his fellow did magic with AFAK and a splint. “You seems like human, though.”

“I am.” said the DOME guy, showing a syringe in his hand. “100% human with 1000% skill. No steroid, no magic bullshit.”

A purple liquid in a small bottle tempted his grin. Varg acted like a drug addict when he held out his hand for an injection. $100,000 worth of mana serum flowed in his veins. The strange liquid released his racial traits that were unusually bound by earth-limited prana. His elven's natural regeneration repaired his damaged organs, tissues, and cellular activity six times faster than humans. His bleeding stopped. The pain in his leg slowly subsided. A single injection of mana concentrate brought a magical phenomenon from another world.

“It's good to be a type-C, huh?”

“Type ... what?”

The skull-masked guy turned at other DOME personnel with a giggle. Varg felt annoyed that he was being treated like an amateur. Of course, he knew nothing about the DOME. He joined the unit solely to get freedom because Brigadier General had promised a free ticket to his homeland. He would be king anyway. He had no plan to meddle in human affairs anymore. However, his fellow DOME guy was too likeable to be ignored.

“Type A is human, like us.”

Varg squinted when all of his fellows put off their masks. None of them were otherworldly beings like him, even though their appearances were nowhere to be called Indonesian. The man beside him, in particular, was a 30-year-old white guy with blonde hair and facial scars. Varg was a bit surprised that the blonde guy had similar green eyes as him. He must be a foreigner. It made sense that he spoke English in a country of 718 languages.

“Portland. United States.”

“I thought the DOME was a twilight show of immigrants.”

“We are immigrants, regardless of our race.” He said while holding his hand for Varg to shake. “Silver Fork. Former Team Six, DEVGRU, and a normal US veteran who know to hide what we capable of.”

So many questions danced in his mind when he saw all the humans around him. The dome was more mysterious than he thought. Even though there were no wars in the Monster Era, letting foreign military operators in was a big no-no for national security. The white guy seemed aware that Varg needed an explanation.

“Chill out. I'm no longer a US citizen. And can't go back.”

“Why?”

The former DEVGRU guy didn't answer right away. Squatting, he occupied himself with bandage on Varg's leg after dealing with a splint. “One day, I did a normal veteran thing with my savings and a beautiful woman I'd married. Five-star restaurant, wine and rings. A bunch of weirdos with middle-aged attire sat next to us. And the last thing I knew was blood in their necks.”

“Holy shit! You killed walkers?”

“Three celebrity walkers. loved by the US citizens. They harrased my wife, I did something with a silver fork like this. Pew-pew!” He tapped his own throat to gesture his way of killing. “Poof! I ended up here. Military Exchange.”

Varg laughed so loudly that his blood flowed from his mouth. Even mocking a walker would end up in jail. Particularly in the United States, where a walker could freely identify themselves as a hero who saved earth 25 ago and forced everyone to say yes. The left-wing movement would stand for their claim and cry for attention. No wonder every single DOME personnel wore a mask to cover their nasty secret.

“What a about that guy?” Varg pointed at an Arabic man with a long beard. “I don't wanna be a racist, though. But I hear a ticking clock and potassium chlorate whenever I see his face.”

“That's racist.” The white guy laughed while glancing at the arab guy. “He is 300 from Afghanistan.”

“Did he have any problems with the walker?”

“Well, even Taliban learned to be civilized in the world of peace. No oil, no opium, no shit. Until some Afghan Walkers crossed the line by mocking their religion and holy prophet. You know? He sent a car with 300 kg of explosives to the Association building, and boom!”

“Those infidels go to hell!” Taliban guy shouted with a funny accent.

Blood squirted from Varg mount as he laughed at the best joke. A hatred toward Walker sounded like music to his ears. Everyone who hated the heroes of the gods was his brother. Aside from former DEVGRU and Taliban guy, there were also a big Russian dude and a tall black guy who introduced himself as a former Somali pirate. All of them had a similar case that ended up in a killing spree. A Somali guy, a man who said nothing, was sentenced to death after hijacking a cargo of crystal energy and a half billion dollars worth of mana serum. All of them were insane.

Piiip!

“Pzzrttt! Silver Fork, rendezvous with Horny Granma. You got a job, boy.”

“Package?”

“Let him rest. We have no time. Gear up!”

“Roger that.”

The DOME, a notorious unit that Varg previously thought of as a bunch of weirdos, turned out to be a real pro. Every single person around him brought their personal loadout. DEVGRU guy wore a black variant of Ops Core Maritime helmet equipped with GPNVG quad tube google and armed himself with a modified Tac-50. Even with a big puncher on his back, he brought a HK-417 battle rifle as his second weapon of choice. Fighting against the monster needed a bigger caliber, after all.

The Russian guy, meanwhile, looked like robot with Ratnik-3ME battle gear with some kind of exoskeleton. He brought a Saiga-12 and an OSV-96 to his loadout. Arab and Somali guys didn't seem attracted to modern looks. They wore DOME battle gear standard issue, an AK-20 battle rifle, and brought so many RPG-7 warheads on their backs. Their chemistry was out of this world. Silver Fork, the ex-DEVRU guy, acted to be their group leader. His rank was major, while the others were warrant officers. Varg smiled awkwardly as he realized that his rank was the lowest among his comrades.

“Geneva protocol 2007 of Global Special Detachment, only human is permitted to be officer. As Type C, you're considered a human, though. You have some human privilege and certain characteristics of type B.”

“Type B?”

“See it yourself, Butcher One. We are called the best unit for a reason. Welcome to the DOME.” He said while putting on his skull mask.

Varg's stitched ears caught the faint humming of the other twin rotors. Peeking at the window, he saw five similar Chinooks on the left and right. Half of the fleet flew to the 6th portal, while the rest flew to the 7th. Two F-16s with bombing payloads passed them by. After some explosions around the portal, Silver Fork grabbed his radio.

“All unit, engage.”

***

7th Portal, Somewhere on the hill

“Bravo seven, how you copy, boy?”

“78 KIAs, sir. Dozens wounded. 7th portal is out of control.”

“Get your breath, son. Backup is on the way.”

“Roger!”

Amid billowing smoke and partially burning forest, smiles of relief swept away the despairing looks of several strategic reserves. Most of them had been burned to death after encountering a king of flying lizards. Dragon breaths burst like napalm and evaporated all their plans. Being isolated, they hid in a trench while defending themselves with whatever useful.

“Lightfifty need more ammo, LT. We're out of luck.”

The lieutenant glanced at a rolled tactical car equipped with M2 browning dozens of yard away. “Get your ammo.” As two of his men about left the trench, he changed his mind. “Dismount the ma deuce. We need a big puncher. Keep low profile.”

Heat from burning forests erased their tracks, so all the monsters roamed around with no clear objective. Luckily, the bigger lizard's chemoreceptor wasn't developed enough and most monsters also seemed to be herbivores. To be precise, hundreds of herbivores with hippo's temper. The remaining strategic reserves could take a breath.

“Dude! Another dragon in the sky?”

“What?”

“Air force guy smokes it!”

Everyone looked up as they heard the deafening roar of the king of the sky. It turned out that another dragon appeared through another portal. Similar a dragon from 7th portal, their speed was no faster than a Hercules air transport. It could be measured by how fast the F-16 outmanoeuvred it from behind. The dragon hovered at low speed, tried to spit fire, and flapped like a fan. The F-16 swooped sharply past it and countered the blast by releasing a missile. Unfortunately, the missile missed when the dragon spat out its breath like a flare.

“How much one missile cost?”

“AIM 9 Sidewinder is $300,000. Equivalent of 30 family cars.”

“Jeez, what a money sucker.”

Everyone's faces stiffened when the battle for air superiority kept going in the sky. Failing to deliver a missile, the F-16 did a gorgeous maneuver. It chose to dive and fire a 20-mm vulcan cannon, shredding the dragon's wings to immobilize it. The barrage of fire continued until the dragon could no longer fly. Helplessly, the ruler of the sky fell from a height of thousands of feet.

“Yeah! Kill that bitch!”

The fall of the dragon raised their morale. However, their cheers stopped as they realized their position had been spotted. Several huge monsters roared from afar. Dismounted an 50-cal browning from the car, the survivor defended themselves from enemy onslaught.

“Fuck! What a persistent bastard!”

“C'mon! Just leave us alone!”

Bang! Bang!

They shot large-caliber sniper rifles, finishing off any Ankylodrakes who dared to approach. The clock was ticking. They stood at the wrong time and place because of one miscalculation. To make matters worse, the cavalry would not be on time because they were blocked by a line of cars on the highway. Their personnel were getting smaller. The monsters on the other side were in the hundreds, and it was definitely impossible to beat them by any means. The troops would rather finish off the monsters somewhat than hold them within the parameters.

“Cheer up, boys. Keep your asses down.” Lieutenant Colonel radioed from the helicopter.

Suddenly, the sky rumbled. All heads turned as they saw the silhouette of an F-16 spreading a trail of smoke. This time, it wasn't a dogfight. The fighting falcon showed ground support loadouts and dived to deliver several bombs, right in the middle of the crowd of monsters.

Boom!

Booooom!

Booooooooom!

The reinforcements arrived after their last remaining bullet. Following the bombing sortie, all the monsters near the trench suddenly died when a salvo of mysterious gunshots lifted dust and soil into the air. Hearing the humming of a helicopter, everyone crouched. It turned out that the attack was a 30mm autocannon from a black AH-64 Apache.

“Stay down! Stay down! Hold back you curiosity! Stay down!”

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

Every single 30mm airburst bullet exploded and sent hundreds of shrapnel around it. Sometimes high-expensive ammo and armor piercing were mixed in. 30mm's destructive power was no joke. Even its projectile alone was longer than average Asian penises. After attacking from hundreds of meters away, the Apache showed itself. A distinctive skull logo on its body made everyone shut their mouths. The notorious unit had come. Followed by three black Chinooks, Lieutenant Colonel radioed from the command helicopter.

“Behave well, boys. They come to save your asses.”

***

Several strategic reserves were dumbfounded when a black Chinook with a “Type A” letter dropped rope near them, followed by the appearance of four soldiers with black uniforms and skull masks. The arrogant DOME guys was rumored never said a word to outsiders. They just gestured tactical code to ask for cooperation. The survivors smiled awkwardly, hiding their mixed feelings when they received crates of ammos.

“Please ... help ... attack.” One of them, a guy with Tac-50 and a Major insignia, saluted and spoke with a creepy radio voice.

The lieutenant of strategic reserves threw away his stereotypical mindset toward the weirdos and chose to cooperate. Regardless of their different structures in the chain of command, the DOME guy was a major. He had no choice but to hand over his authority to a man with a skull mask.

“Flank!”

“Yes Sir!”

The 7th portal battle resumed with a joint force between the DOME and Strategic Reserve. The wounded had been evacuated while the rest flanked their enemy from elevation. 12 combat reconnaissances brought their lightfifties and set a shooting point, while several regular raiders protected their zone of action. The four DOME guys, meanwhile, moved to different locations and set their respective perimeters.

“Seriously? They flanks hundreds geckos with four Kamen Riders?”

“Shut up, private. Do you job.”

The DOME squad turned out to be a group of seasoned soldiers. Their shooting skills and efficienty clearly showed how veteran they were on the battleground. The major, someone who identified himself as Silver Fork, signaled something for two black Chinooks in front of the dome. There were “Type B” letters on its fuselage. There was no rope to land soldiers when the helos flew low. Instead, the twin-bladed helicopter opened its back door, releasing a four-meter-tall creature that surprised the strategic reserves.

“Jesus Chris! They'are arming a fuckin' monster!”

It said a fully grown silverback gorilla could lift 4,000 pounds (1,810kg) on a beach press. Research had proven that they could lift up to 27 times their full body weight. With twice to three times the physical stature of humans, gorillas were up to 20 times stronger. The scale was ridiculous. Gorilla's strength showed that size always matters.

However, the monster they released wasn't a gorilla, and obviously dozens time stronger than any animal on earth. It was a four-meter-tall bullheaded creature armed with a 500-kg axe. Its appearance was noticeable, with combat pants and a huge balistic vest equipped with so many plates. His labrys, a double-bladed axe commonly used by minos, looked so cool with a modern touch. It seemed that his weapon was made of some kind of modern alloy. To be precise, cobalt alloy with 1,500 megapascals tensile strength and 60 HCR hardness.

“Pancaaakeeee! Graaawwww!”

Crush!

In one swing, it killed three ankys like nothing.