Captain Fritz Stiglitz grumbled in his seat as he and his squadron flew rapidly through the Sordalian countryside. His left eye was covered with a black eyepatch, and he also wore the light gray armor, uniform, and cape of the Wyvern Knight Corps, which stood in contrast to his mount’s white skin. It was the iconic look of any seasoned member of Sordale’s most elite force.

  Fritz was an officer of the 101st Wyvern Air Wing. As a part of the Sordalian Wyvern Knights Corps, he and his comrades acted as the kingdom’s air force. Their tasks ranged from providing air support using their wyverns, patrolling Sordalian airspace, and, in this case, scouting duty.

  Earlier, a direct command from the War Minister was issued to the 101st, mobilizing them into a rescue operation to save the 4th Princess, Stella Rosette vi Sordale. Before the rest of the 101st rolled out, though, Fritz’s squadron would go first to check their target.

  Of course, everyone knew that their mission was utterly bollocks.

  While news hadn’t yet officially reached the public, the [Saint] had disappeared for more than a month after her final training mission. For most military personnel in touch with the events around the world, that meant she was functionally dead.

  It wouldn’t stop the elf king from sending them into potential suicide missions, though. As such, Fritz and his handpicked men had no choice but to execute this task.

  Fritz pushed his feet on a lever attached to his wyvern’s saddle, causing a yellow prosthetic tail fin attached to his wyvern to slightly go up. The creature immediately let out a cat-like purr, raising itself upward slightly.

  He patted its head lightly.

  “Easy now, Anna,” Fritz whispered. “This’ll just be a short operation. Don’t worry.”

  The wyvern didn’t seem to be convinced.

  Right then, one of his lieutenants flew close to his right side, shouting at him.

  “Hey, captain!” The man called out. “If she got her ass handed to her in the south of the continent, why are we doing a rescue operation here?”

  “She got captured. Obviously, she’ll be bought by those loonies somewhere else.”

  “Pfft, I'm betting ten gold coins that she already bit the dust. That balding knife-ear is emotional and deluded.”

  “Heinrich, cut it out,” Fritz chastised. “You’re not badmouthing the king again on my watch.”

  “Shit, you hate him too anyway. Everyone here does. What gives? No one will hear us; we’re thousands of feet above the ground!”

  “I said cut it out, lieutenant. Don’t make me issue an order.”

  “Ain’t that a fucking joke? They’re sending us blind into a suicide mission, and we can’t even speak shit to them. Man, alright. Roger that, sir. Will shut up now.”

  Heinrich immediately flew back in formation, while Fritz frowned. That man was way too cocky for his own good. Unfortunately, unlike Fritz and the rest of the crew, Heinrich was an ace rider. He was a prodigy, if you will. He was credited with shooting down fourteen wyvern riders of the Ridian Empire a few years ago.

  As a result, the bastard seemed to think that his records meant that he would be able to get away with anything, and he wasn't wrong. It did largely shield him unless he broke the rules too far.

  It was a stroke of bad luck that this arrogant soldier found himself in Fritz’s unit. Quite frankly, he liked his other subordinates more. Sure, they weren’t the kind who would be able to dogfight another wyvern rider well in the skies, but they did their jobs right most of the time. They could fly in formation, attack ground targets well, and generally fight as a cohesive whole.

  Heinrich was a loose gun. He was closer to a lone wolf than a proper member of Fritz’s unit, and that annoyed Fritz. For now though, Fritz tried to ignore his dissatisfaction to focus on his job.

  Fritz leaned close to his manacomm on top of his wyvern's neck. It was a device that allowed him to contact the rest of his unit using magic.

  “Alright, flight one, follow me. We’re going on a close flyby on Eisenfeld. Flights two, three, and four—hover around at eight miles and maintain contact. Scan the surroundings while you’re on it. Let’s not fuck this up, everyone.”

  “Roger that.”

  “We’re on it, captain.”

  Right then, Fritz was joined by three riders from flight one, including Heinrich. The rest of his sixteen-man-strong squadron, on the other hand, scattered, circling the village ahead of them, flying closer to the ground to begin their scans, as the visibility conditions weren't ideal at the moment.

  The village of Eisenfeld itself was quite small, situated near a dense forest. There were only a few minor roads that connected it to nearby towns, and they themselves weren’t well-maintained.

  Monster activity meant that most of the time, merchant traffic was sparse. Eisenfeld, therefore, was quite remote in a sense. It was a tiny pocket of hardy villagers, all tucked at the edge of civilization.

  Fritz began surveying the village and its surroundings using his telescope, expertly flying with his wyvern one-handed. He noted that the villagers of Eisenfeld were alive and well, most of them going about their daily lives.

  None of them even noticed the presence of Fritz’s squadron. As he continued circling around the village, he communicated constantly with his men, all of them noting down every important detail they observed.

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  That was when he received word from the leader of flight two.

  “Captain! There are contacts coming in hot from the west! There are eighteen of them!”

  “What?”

  Immediately, Fritz pulled his wyvern rightward to face flight two. His wyvern growled and huffed, clearly threatened, while his eyes caught the incoming threat.

  Indeed, as his subordinate reported, there were eighteen of them. All of them were wyverns, with riders on top who wore black cloaks—the signature clothing of the Death God Cult. Fritz found it incredulous, because how the hell would they manage to acquire wyverns, pilot them, let alone maintain them?!

  They couldn’t possibly have funds to field a squadron. It was preposterous!

  Worst of all, the enemy was diving down with a ridiculous altitude advantage. Fritz cursed his luck. If he’d known they had air units, none of his men would be flying this close to the ground, even if the entire point of their mission was to reconnoiter Eisenfeld.

  The cultists’ wyverns zoomed down at their respective targets as they picked up blistering speeds due to gravity, each one of them opening their mouths and charging a fireball attack. Anyone hit by them would find themselves in an absolute world of pain.

  Fritz acted quickly.

  “Flight two, all of you break and dodge! The rest of us will fly straight at them head-on to regroup and fight back. Don’t show them your tail, or you’ll be easy pickings!”

  His commands given, everyone in his squadron immediately moved to regroup and fly rapidly to face off the enemy. Unfortunately, a barrage of fireballs struck everyone from flight two. Even when they tried to dodge, their riders and wyverns were immediately incinerated.

  “Shit! I'm hit!”

  “My eyes, my eyes—!”

  “Aaaahhhhhh! Get it off me! Get it off me!””

  Heinrich cursed and snarled beside Fritz as the two raced to face the enemy head-on, hopefully to dodge them in time and escape. Unfortunately, the ones who attacked flight two immediately flew up high after their attack run, thus preserving their flight energy.

  Even Heinrich broke into a sweaty mess while watching the enemy fly above them. Meanwhile, the rest of the cultist riders who were lining up for their attack rapidly closed in on the survivors of Fritz’s squadron.

  That meant, even if this attack run failed, the ones who flew upward would just follow through with another dive attack from the rear of Fritz’s squadron.

  Shit.

  They were all dead men flying.

  Marcus and Stella both arrived near Eisenfeld, the town where a ‘lair’ of the Death God Cult was spotted, by late afternoon. The two naturally didn’t go headfirst into an attack. They first scanned and reconnoitered the approaches to the village, as Marcus didn’t want nasty surprises while they exited the area.

  That was when he picked up multiple flying units rushing straight into Eisenfeld. They came from the direction of the Royal Capital in the west, heading eastward to the village. Of course, as a result, Marcus and Stella had to pause their efforts to assess the situation.

  They laid low, observing as the riders circled around town. It was quite the strange display for Marcus, who was never quite used to flying units in the military. Back in the age of the Astrean Empire, they did have wyvern riders.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t numerous. Only the best knights of the Empire flew such beasts, as they were quite powerful once leveled up. While definitely not comparable to proper dragons, their magical attacks and physical strength made them a fearsome opponent.

  He further confirmed that when he used [Detect] on the creatures. They were all gold-ranked according to the system. Their riders were actually weaker on average, as all of them were silver-ranked.

  Still, it was clear that they were well-trained. They scanned the areas around Eisenfeld quite efficiently even with fog obscuring visibility, patrolling in secure duos to make quick fly-bys that finished the job quickly.

  “I can respect any man who fights like that,” Marcus proudly said beside Stella. “Seems like your kingdom isn’t that half-bad, huh?”

  “Every country has them,” Stella shrugged.

  “Oh.”

  “Though, from what I’ve heard, Sordale has enough to rival Ridia, even when Ridia is larger, so I guess…we’re not half-bad.”

  Marcus had been gauging the military strength of the Astrean continents since the start. To him, it was one of the most important things in case the Death God and the demon horde somehow returned.

  Neither Marcus nor Stella had the ability to be present in several places at a time. It was why militaries were so important in Marcus’s mind, and he wanted to create arrangements that would hasten their response time in case of a worst-case scenario.

  So far, his assessment was quite barebones. He knew that Ridia was the strongest, by virtue of their size. Sordale was the next, with Valeon being dead last. Of course, he hadn’t yet seen the Holy Church’s capabilities or the so-called Lourian kingdom in the southwest, and he had no access to actual raw numbers.

  So this was mostly only vibes-based. Still, it was quite an interesting thought. It was definitely something he’d look more into once the affair about Stella’s familiar was done.

  “We’ll just wait it out,” Marcus declared. “They’re a scouting party, so they should leave soon.”

  “I can’t wait any longer to regain Lady Siris’s spiritual essence. She’s getting weaker by the minute.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to it soon.”

  Then, I’ll beat up this Archbishop bastard nice and good. Maybe torture him for a bit.

  He looked back at Stella, who was looking ahead worriedly at the village.

  Or not.

  I should really be more mindful of her.

  She doesn’t seem to like wanton cruelty.

  Quite frankly, Marcus was still too crude and insensitive. He swore to change that because, quite frankly, wartime attitudes only belonged in wartime conditions, but it was taking far too long.

  The fact that he delayed helping out Stella and her familiar in favor of targeting the Death God Cult first early on was one such example of it. He was so focused on his main mission that he forgot that Stella, while she wouldn’t say it outright, was hurting.

  This was the only way he could make up for his behavior. He had to get her familiar’s spiritual essence immediately, or else.

  Marcus turned on [Mass Surveillance] again, aiming his telescope on the village to continue scanning it.

  “Marcus,” Stella suddenly called out, distracting Marcus from his work. “Look up! There’s a new group of wyverns coming from the west!”

  “What?”

  Marcus turned on his back. He saw a flock of the damned things coming straight down from the clouds. Before he had a chance to react, they fired a barrage of fireballs straight at four riders attempting evasive maneuvers.

  Somehow, the damned cultists had the ability to go toe-to-toe with an actual military. He gritted his teeth in annoyance.

  “I see then. Stella, the White Watch will attack now. The gloves are off.”