Standing on the balcony of the castle, Grand Mage Selmos quietly gazed at the scene outside. The atmosphere in the capital Chora was filled with the sounds of life: the loud calls of vendors, the hurried footsteps of the citizens blending into the melody of a bustling workday. From behind, the General approached, his gaze following Selmos, then spoke in a deep voice:

  "What news from the battlefield?"

  Selmos did not turn around, still keeping his eyes fixed on the distance, but his response was heavy with weight: "Not good. All we have received are the cries of despair mixed with violent explosions."

  "Is that all? Nothing else?" The General pressed, his tone tinged with skepticism.

  "No... There is almost nothing else. The messengers are so terrified they can hardly speak. This makes it extremely difficult to ascertain what is really happening," Selmos replied, finally tearing his gaze from the void in front of him to look directly at the General. A moment of hesitation crossed his mind: 'Should I say it? But... the situation is too chaotic right now. Every piece of information needs to be verified, and nothing is certain at this moment.'

  Many fragmented clues seemed to point towards one conclusion: the aircraft of Mu. Yet, no evidence was strong enough to confirm it. If he spoke without basis, Selmos knew he could be accused of baseless speculation and be sidelined from the war, something no one wanted at this time.

  The idea of Mamluk possessing aircraft was almost inconceivable. Mu had never exported any military technology, and even civilian technology was a rare commodity. Moreover, with Mamluk's knowledge base, operating such advanced technology would not be easy. Selmos frowned slightly as a thought flashed: "Could there be interference from that new nation?"

  It was a haunting question. The unfamiliar nation, which had suddenly appeared, had established diplomatic relations with Mamluk. Although they did not intervene directly, their presence had rendered all of Rowlia's efforts to weaken Mamluk futile. The difficulties that had once weighed heavily on Mamluk now seemed to have dissipated, and time was no longer on their side.

  Selmos took a deep breath and turned to the General. He noticed the questioning look from the other man and spoke: "General, how many flying dragons are currently in the capital?"

  The unexpected question made the General furrow his brow slightly. Nevertheless, he answered: "About forty, ten of which are on patrol."

  "Put them all on standby," Selmos ordered, his voice becoming more resolute.

  Hearing this, the General was taken aback. "Why? Is something serious happening? Just say it plainly."

  "It's complicated... But first, you need to trust me," Selmos replied, his gaze serious.

  After a moment of hesitation, Selmos decided to reveal: "The last communications from the battlefield mentioned Mu's aircraft. I suspect there is a force behind Mamluk. You know well how obsessed Mu is with protecting their technology."

  The General pondered. If Selmos was correct, Mu's interference would be a significant problem. However, he also recognized that everything was still just a hypothesis. "Nothing has been absolutely confirmed yet," he replied, "but I will deploy all the flying dragons as you suggested. Is there anything else?"

  "Then summon the entire reserve army. I have a feeling... today will mark the beginning of the end."

  For the first time in many years, the General recognized the worry evident in Selmos's voice. This made him even more aware of the gravity of the situation. He nodded and turned to leave, but before stepping off the balcony, he glanced back and said, "Selmos, you should prepare as well."

  Selmos stood still for a moment, watching the General's retreating figure. Inside him, unease felt like a heavy stone. 'Rowlia... can it withstand this storm?'

  Deciding not to let himself be swept away by pessimistic thoughts, Selmos quickly left the balcony, walking with the determination of a man ready to face any challenge.

  ...

  The vast sky over the capital Chora was covered with a layer of pale gray clouds, reflecting the cold hues of the Su-30SM fighter jets approaching their target. The roar of the engines shattered the stillness of the afternoon, as if heralding an impending storm. This squadron was assigned a special mission: to neutralize the capital's air defense capabilities and draw out those with special abilities from the shadows to eliminate them. A complex mission, but one that could not falter, for behind them was a nation counting on victory.

  Although initial information indicated that the technology level of this land was only at the end of the 17th century, field reports left the squadron in doubt. The people here not only knew about guns but also had a basic understanding of aircraft. The technological gap, which seemed easy to dominate, now posed a problem that needed solving. In the sky, each pilot in the squadron was acutely aware that they could not underestimate the opponent, no matter how outdated they appeared.

  The squadron leader pondered as he looked at the GLONASS system displayed on the radar screen. Without this navigation system, they would not dare to act confidently in such a foreign world. On the ground, information control was being implemented rigorously. Platforms like VK, Ok.ru, Telegram, and Rutube became powerful tools for the government to reassure the public. Short videos recorded by soldiers and posted on social media provided clearer images of the conflict but were still carefully selected to avoid causing panic.

  Back in the sky, the infrared sensors on the Su-30SM began to operate, clearly outlining the shapes of the targets. They were not aircraft, nor were they birds, but flying dragons—giant creatures with large wings, soaring through the air as part of this sky. One pilot chuckled lightly, but his voice turned serious as he looked at the radar:

  "I knew we would face strange things, but seeing them up close is still hard to get used to. We have a technological advantage, but we cannot be complacent."

  The co-pilot sitting behind him, eyes glued to the display, agreed: "I think so too. They may not be as intelligent as we are, but their size and attack capabilities are enough to make anyone wary. I don't want to fall because of a fireball."

  Suddenly, the radio crackled, interrupting their conversation: "Oroz-3, prepare weapons. The target is in sight. Attack at will."

  Just a second later, the silence was shattered by piercing shrieks. Missiles R-27, R-73, and R-77 shot from the wings of the aircraft, leaving behind trails of white smoke. In the sky, the flying dragons had not yet realized what was happening, still leisurely patrolling, unaware that death was approaching. From afar, deafening explosions erupted, flashes of light flickering for a moment before everything sank back into the thick fog of smoke and debris.

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  This was not just a battle—it was a warning. A reminder that this world, though strange and foreign, would still have to bow before the might of modern war machines. But deep in the minds of the pilots, the question echoed: How much more do they not know about this land? And where was the true enemy waiting for them?

  ...

  Under the scorching sun, the sky over the Chora region seemed to be torn apart by the powerful wings of the flying dragons. Under the orders of General Muha, the flying dragons, which were supposed to rest, now had to engage in a patrol mission that would last until the end of the day. The tension was evident on the faces of the dragon riders, as sweat poured down and the sweltering heat made them irritable.

  "Damn it! Is working in shifts not enough that we have to fly all day like this?" one dragon rider complained, his voice filled with frustration.

  "Yeah, if we have to do this, I just hope for more days off and a raise," another chimed in, his tone betraying sarcasm.

  "Haha... don't dream. The army is only good at draining the strength of the soldiers," another dragon rider replied, amidst a laugh of exasperation.

  "And me, if this goes on, I might have to find a way to work for some rich lord. At least there would be a salary to live on."

  The atmosphere of lament was cut short by the cold voice of the dragon force commander coming through the mamacom: "Enough! Focus on the mission! Are you trying to get yourselves killed by being careless?"

  The warning immediately silenced the complaints. Despite their annoyance, everyone quickly returned to work. In the high sky, the flying dragons soared, their sharp eyes scanning every direction like predators that nothing could escape. But then, a strange sound emerged, low and prolonged, causing one of the dragon riders to frown.

  "What is that?" He maneuvered his dragon towards the source of the sound. But before he could see clearly, a blinding explosion shattered the sky in front of him. The shockwave knocked both the dragon and rider down, their bodies falling freely from a terrifying height, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud, leaving only a deathly silence.

  The remaining riders immediately panicked at the sight. From all sides, a barrage of missiles came flying, relentlessly pursuing them. The sounds of explosions and columns of black smoke engulfed the sky. The dragon riders hurriedly fired back with fireballs, but only added to the chaos. The screams, pleas, and explosions merged into a horrifying symphony of death.

  The commander tightened his grip on the mamacom, his voice sharp as a knife: "Everyone focus! Form a defensive formation now!"

  The surviving dragon riders quickly took their positions, but their hearts were filled with fear. The commander squinted, looking at the strange objects approaching. They were not magic, but white metal blocks with flames roaring behind them, hurtling forward as if they had their own will.

  "Damn it! We can't fight this!" He gritted his teeth, and then another sound erupted, louder and sharper. Before his eyes, the silhouettes of giant machines appeared, each exuding an overwhelming majesty.

  "F-Fighter jets!?" His voice shattered in terror.

  The aircraft flew past the formation of flying dragons at an unbelievable speed, leaving complete chaos in their wake. The commander realized there was no chance left. He shouted, "RETREAT! RETREAT NOW!"

  The dragon riders immediately turned, trying to escape the nightmare. But not everyone was so lucky. The pursuing missiles, like hungry predators, relentlessly claimed the lives of each one. The sky, once the domain of the flying dragons, was now a hell of fire and smoke.

  ...

  Under the gray and heavy sky of the battlefield, Selmos stood firm atop a tall tower, his silver hair fluttering in the biting cold wind. Around him, colleagues and his young apprentices hurriedly cast spells, creating shimmering and powerful streams of light, like flickering rays of hope amidst the chaos. Above, the enemy aircraft screamed like demons, diving down with the intent to destroy the main castle—the heart of the capital. No one knew exactly where they came from, possibly from Mu, but that no longer mattered. They had to protect this place at all costs.

  Selmos, with decades of combat experience, quickly deployed a large magical array, forming an aerial defense network. His continuous attacks forced the enemy aircraft to falter, compelling them to cease fire and retreat from direct attack range. However, every passing second was a significant challenge, as their formation needed time to maintain its strength.

  From a distance, a general hurriedly approached, his voice breathless yet commanding: "How is it going, Selmos?"

  Selmos did not turn around, his sharp eyes still focused on the movements in the sky. "The situation is under control," he said, his tone calm yet resolute. "But all the flying dragons have been wiped out. We did not anticipate that the enemy would bring such a large number of aircraft, along with weapons we have never seen before."

  The general frowned, nodding slowly. "What about the possibility of the enemy deploying more troops?"

  Selmos smirked slightly, his weathered face displaying an unusual confidence. "It's fine. We have deployed a strong shield with the combined efforts of five people. Even the leading civilized nations would struggle against this power."

  The general turned his gaze to the other mages. Indeed, they were—five individuals with bright, determined eyes, including two half-elves and one beastman, intensely focused on maintaining the magic. Despite their racial differences, that no longer mattered. What mattered now was the survival of the capital.

  Suddenly, a chilling shriek pierced the air. From afar, an enemy weapon hurtled towards them at breakneck speed, embedding itself into the shield like a dagger into steel. The explosion that followed lit up a corner of the sky. The general instinctively stepped back a few paces, the heat and blast leaving him dazed. But as the dust settled, a miracle appeared before his eyes—the shield remained intact, not a crack, not a speck of dust penetrated.

  Selmos squinted, his smile now more resolute than ever. "See?" he said, his voice filled with pride. "We will protect this place, at all costs."

  Under the cloudy sky, a Su-30SM circled high above, the silver body of the aircraft glinting in the dim light. After witnessing their missile attacks being swallowed by that ethereal green shield without a scratch, inside the cockpit, the two pilots exchanged heavy yet determined tones.

  "Climb higher. Use KAB-500S-E. Total destruction may be the only way to penetrate this defense," the co-pilot said, his eyes glued to the control screen in front of him.

  The pilot nodded, quickly elevating the Su-30SM, breaking through the thick white clouds. "Agreed. Total destruction is always valuable, especially when we are facing things beyond our expectations like this."

  The wind howled outside, the aircraft's body vibrating slightly as it reached the appropriate altitude. "Target locked. Proceed with bomb release!" the pilot's voice rang out decisively. Two KAB-500S-E bombs dropped from their racks, plummeting at breakneck speed, the GLONASS navigation system ensuring they reached their intended destination.

  Below, the General of Rowlia stood amidst the battlefield, his sharp gaze directing each group of mages to deploy their magical defenses. Fireballs shot up from the mages incessantly, creating a dazzling display like fireworks. With a calm yet cold demeanor, he smirked, satisfied to see his shield blocking every attack from above.

  But then, a strange sound crept through the shouts and roars of battle. A small yet sharp sound, only his keen ears could detect. He looked up, his eyes flashing with alertness as he noticed two black dots in the sky hurtling straight down at an unimaginable speed.

  "Get inside now!" the General bellowed, his voice echoing like an urgent command across the battlefield. While everyone was still in shock, he quickly pulled Selmos, a mage standing nearby, inside.

  Selmos angrily opened his mouth to speak, but the deafening sound of two explosions made all words vanish. The place they had just stood was now a massive crater, debris flying everywhere, nearby mages blown away, the green shield now just a shattered memory. The smell of smoke and dust engulfed everything.

  Amidst the rubble, the General gritted his teeth, using all his strength to push a large piece of debris off himself. He looked at Selmos, who was still in shock but fortunately not seriously injured. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but filled with concern.

  "I'm fine... but what about the others..." Selmos murmured, his gaze directed towards the dark, gaping hole.

  The General stepped out from their shelter, his eyes filled with rage as he looked up at the sky. The Su-30SMs, the cause of this devastation, were gradually disappearing from sight, leaving behind a scene of ruin and tragedy. They had completed their mission flawlessly, retreating swiftly, as if to assert that all resistance from Rowlia was futile.

  Selmos, with a mix of fear and astonishment in his eyes, watched the silhouettes of the aircraft fade away. "They... are real monsters," he whispered. The General said nothing, silently clenching his fists. Inside him, a feeling of helplessness and hatred surged, like a fire smoldering within.

  After completing their mission, the entire Su-30SM squadron left the capital, leaving behind a pile of rubble and plumes of black smoke.