Chapter 155: Dogfight
The Apache’s rotors thundered above the scorched ridges of Emberreach, blades carving the air like divine swords. Inigo gripped the controls tightly, HUD flickering with readouts—altitude, airspeed, radar lock—all of it foreign to this world but second nature to him. The sky around him churned with ash and heat as the red dragon spiraled higher, wings burning with unnatural fire.
He watched her movements carefully. She wasn’t just a beast—she was experienced, ancient, cunning. Every shift of her wings carved gales into the sky. Every roar cracked the air like thunder.
And yet, she’d never fought anything like this.
Down below, the soldiers and citizens of Ironmark stood spellbound along the cliffs, towers, and terraces. Dozens had gathered at the outer watchposts, drawn by the apocalyptic tremors and sound. Their eyes were locked on the aerial duel, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
"It’s not magic..." a young squire whispered.
"Then what is it!?" a knight beside him barked, struggling to keep his jaw from trembling.
"A beast of steel and fire," muttered an archer, clutching a bow that now seemed almost laughable. "It hunts the wyrm from the sky..."
Back at the Flamekeeper’s chapel, the old priestess clutched the stone balustrade, lips tight. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "What god did this man call upon... to ride thunder and challenge wrath?"
Lyra stood beside her, bow forgotten in hand, cloak snapping in the wind. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with something close to awe. She knew the Apache was powerful, but seeing it fly, roaring with fury to match the dragon’s, left her breathless.
Up above, Inigo pulled hard to the left, avoiding a blast of molten breath that seared the clouds. His left screen flickered with thermal readings—the dragon’s core temperature spiked wildly.
"She’s angry," he muttered, fingers dancing across the controls. "Let’s keep it that way."
He switched to the next payload: air-to-air missiles.