A/n: Overpowered Protagonist Bullshit aside, it's time we go back to the nice old normal humans with guns vs overpowered magical enemies!

Enjoy!!

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Austronesian Empire, Imperial Tanah Melayu, Airbase, Air Hanger

1st Year of God, Wednesday, 3rd Week, Month Of Jonah.

Months after being destroyed during the New Year Tragedy, a support base was rebuilt and later refurbished into a state-of-the-art airbase for the Austronesian People's Empire’s burgeoning Air Force.

Inside the brightly lit hangar, a single, boxy craft rested on its four landing gears, surrounded by a large crew of technicians. Each wore color-coded vests over their work overalls, moving with purpose as they serviced the machine.

Outside, two military trucks rolled to a stop near the runway, where the aircraft were winding up with its turbine on standby. From the trucks' rear compartments, troops disembarked in single file and formed up beside the planes for inspection.

At the heart of this operation was the VTOL Model Peacemaker 45.

It is a marvel of engineering and one of the latest technological breakthroughs from the empire. Years of research had culminated in its creation, though progress was briefly halted during the chaos of the New Year Tragedy. Once stability returned after several weeks, the project resumed at breakneck speed, and within a month, the prototype was completed and tested.

The Peacemaker boasted an impressive range of 1,800 kilometers on a single tank of fuel and a top cruising speed of 600 kilometers per hour.

This particular model had been heavily modified for the empire's unique needs. Its wings housed ten fuel tanks, five per wing, while an additional eight tanks were integrated into the fuselage, allowing for extended missions across their vast world, since the world they were on is immensely far larger than Earth. The fuel system was fully automated to ensure seamless supply to the engines.

Armed with a six-barrel Gatling gun mounted under its belly, the Peacemaker was no mere transport. The weapon, capable of 360-degree rotation, was loaded with Mithril-tipped bullets to ensure unparalleled firepower. An advanced camera system accompanied the gun, offering zoom, night vision, and thermal imaging, all controllable from the aircraft’s cockpit. Pilots could precisely target enemies through the integrated control panel which make the Peacemaker a powerful force both in the air and on the battlefield.

Now, the VTOL Model Peacemaker 45 was ready for its debut mission, a trial by fire that would push it to its limits. But this was more than a test of technology, it marked the moment the Austronesian People's Empire would reveal its strength to the world.

“Finally, we stop hiding and now get to kick some asses in this New World.”

The commander of the force grinned in anticipation of the upcoming mission and stood before the assembled platoon. A spark of excitement danced in his eyes as he surveyed the men and women under his command, all clad in the recent MK-I exosuits and armed with AF-1 and AF-2 Magic Rifles.

"Alright, men of 4th Battalion, Eagle Company, Platoon 1!" he roared over the sound of the aircraft engines. "Most of you know me from the war with the demons. We survived hell together, but now we’ve got a new mission, and it’s just as damn important!"

He pointed toward the distant horizon with a hardened expression. "One of our buddies is trapped in enemy territory, a nation overrun by these hairy midgets. And it’s our job to save them!"

He clenched his fist and raised his voice with conviction. "Many of you have lost homes, families, everything you held dear. But now, we have a new role to play, as protectors of mankind! And as protectors of mankind, we shall defend humanity in this God-forsaken world, we are humanity’s shield! Humanity Stands!"

"HORAAAH!" The platoon echoed out loudly. "HORAAAH!"

"Mount up!" the commander barked, gesturing to the waiting aircraft. "Onboard the Peacemaker! Go, go, go!”

The heavily armed soldiers immediately sprinted toward the massive VTOL, whose rear cargo ramp was already lowered, and a man in dark green air force overalls, a helmet, and aviator glasses stood at the base, waving them aboard.

"Buckle up, kids!" the crewman shouted, his grin visible even through his helmet. "You want to sit like civilized folk or die in pieces in this flying bucket of bolts?"

The soldiers ignored the taunt, filing into the aircraft and strapping into the seats lining its walls. In the center of the deck, a pallet of supplies was securely lashed down, along with what looked like an armored vehicle.

"All clear?" the crew chief called as he climbed in through the side hatch and sealed it.

"Affirmative!"

"Cargo secured!" another voice confirmed.

"Peacemaker One to Mother," the co-pilot radioed the control tower. "One is green and standing by for takeoff. Over."

[Mother to Valkyrie Flight. Mission is go, Godspeed, gentlemen!]

"One, Roger." The pilot powered up the turbines, and the VTOL shuddered slightly as it lifted off. Air churned beneath the craft as it rose steadily, and the nose tilted toward the distant mountains.

With a surge of power, the Peacemaker roared into the sky, carrying its cargo of soldiers and hope into the unknown.

————————————————————————

Kingdom Of Egdellaf, Capital City, In A Slum, Inside A Building, In A Room.

1st Year of God, Thursday, 3rd Week, Month Of Jonah.

A team of special operations soldiers found themselves stranded deep in the heart of the Kingdom of Egdellaf, one of the Eastern Kingdoms now occupied by the Iron Kingdom during its war against the Tarxan Coalition.

The Iron Kingdom had fortified every corner of Egdellaf's borders and cities with thousands of heavily armed troops, leaving the stranded team with little hope of escape. For weeks, they believed they were doomed to fade into the ashes of war. But just yesterday, a message from headquarters reignited their resolve, and said that a rescue mission was underway, utilizing one of the military’s newest and most advanced aircraft.

The aircraft, a VTOL Model Peacemaker 45, was unlike anything they’d seen before. Designed to take off and land vertically like a helicopter, it combined the maneuverability of a rotorcraft with the extended range of a plane. This cutting-edge machine was their best chance to break free of Egdellaf’s iron grip.

For now, the team lay low in an abandoned building in the slums of the capital city. How they managed to infiltrate the heavily guarded capital remained classified, but the truth was far simpler than it seemed. Exploiting a neglected backdoor into the port city, overlooked by the Egdellaf authorities. they had slipped past the defenses.

The arrogance of Egdellaf's rulers worked in the soldiers’ favor. The "superiors," as they called themselves, dismissed the so-called "inferiors" as incapable of posing any threat. Backdoors and unsecured routes were left unmonitored, as the superiors believed fear was enough to deter any insubordination. Public executions of dissenters and their families served as chilling warnings to the populace. Yet, this complacency provided the perfect opportunity for the soldiers to infiltrate undetected.

Now, in the dim confines of a crumbling room, Angelo, the team leader, stood before his squad and two other operatives. Shadows danced on the walls as he assessed their situation.

He and his team were equipped with the latest magical weaponry, which are the AF-1 and AF-2 rifles, Spatial Rings, and the MK-I Mithril Suit, a weapon-support system designed to amplify both physical and magical capabilities. However, the other special operations teams were less fortunate, armed only with conventional firearms like assault rifles, machine guns, and shotguns. Supplies were limited, and there was no other choice but to make do with what they had.

Paulo, one of Angelo’s teammates, was stationed at the window, carefully scanning the streets outside for any signs of danger. Nearby, a soldier from another team spoke into a radio and confirmed that the Peacemaker had departed the previous day and was en route to extract them. Their orders were clear, which was to leave the capital city and move to an open area where the aircraft could safely land. Once the Peacemaker was in proximity, they were to use signal flares to mark their location for extraction.

The extraction was scheduled for today, meaning the Peacemaker could arrive at any moment. Time was critical, and the team needed to act quickly, evacuating the city and finding a suitable location before the aircraft arrived.

The group consisted of three teams, a total of twelve soldiers, more than enough to form a fully equipped squad. Now, they were hastily packing their gear. Supplies were running dangerously low, and the team had overstayed their welcome in this slum for far too long.

When they first arrived, the locals, referred to as "inferiors" by their oppressors, had reacted with suspicion. Though most avoided the strangers, some kept a watchful eye on them. The locals feared that if this unfamiliar group caused trouble, the entire slum might face brutal retribution, with executions carried out indiscriminately.

The soldiers had disguised themselves in tattered clothing that blended with the environment, and they rarely left the building they occupied. Despite their low profile, they attracted attention when they paid an exorbitant sum to the landlady of the building, enough money to feed a family for an entire year. The generosity was impossible to refuse, but it sparked greed among some locals who began scheming to steal the money as soon as the soldiers left.

To the locals, the group appeared to be wealthy, eccentric travelers, perhaps tourists from another nation. How they had acquired so much currency was irrelevant. The slum dwellers saw an opportunity to improve their own circumstances, regardless of the soldiers’ true identities.

Yet no one dared confront the group directly. Despite their ragged disguises, the soldiers carried an air of authority and danger, making it clear they were not to be trifled with. Anyone foolish enough to challenge them risked unleashing catastrophic consequences.

As rumors of war swept through the slum, and the tension grew. The Kingdom of Egdellaf was one of several occupied by enemy forces, and whispers of rebellion and resistance were common. Some locals reported the presence of the soldiers to the occupiers, hoping for a reward. The reports described individuals wearing unfamiliar clothing, possessing advanced gear, and suspected of carrying a mysterious “black box.”

But the informants’ hopes for compensation were short-lived when the occupying forces, hearing the report, reacted a with a smirk, and instead of rewarding the informants, they executed them on the spot, leaving their bodies in the streets as a grim warning to others.

The soldiers, however, remained the occupiers’ primary target. As the enemy marched toward the reported location, the special operations team prepared to move, knowing that every second counted.

Meanwhile, Angelo and his team were ready to move out when a soldier stationed at the window called out urgently.

"They're here! Enemy forces are right outside!"

Nathan, one of Angelo’s teammates, stepped away from the group and approached the house lady. Handing her an additional sum of money, he spoke firmly.

"Take this. When the fighting moves away, gather your family and leave the city. Don’t look back."

The house lady hesitated only briefly before nodding and held the money tightly. She prepared her belongings but remained inside, as instructed. The soldiers would hold the line and buy her time to escape.

With their positions set, the team braced for the inevitable clash. Moments later, the door of the abroad burst open in a flash of magic, splintering wood flying into the air, which Angelo didn’t hesitate as he shouted on top of his lungs.

"Open fire!"

Upon breaking the door, the occupiers which were the Iron Kingdom, were met with ear-piercing sound that reverberated throughout the entire area as the soldiers unleashed a torrent of bullets.

The deafening sound of gunfire echoed through the slums, mingling with the screams of the occupiers.

Splash of blood and guts splattered the walls and the dirt road outside as the first wave of Iron Kingdom soldiers fell to the unexpected assault. The ferocity of the attack left their comrades stunned, and their formation collapsed into disarray.

Nearby, the local inferiors, humans and demi-humans beaten into submission by years of oppression, cowered in fear. Huddled together, they whispered frantic prayers, certain that the spilling of their occupiers’ blood would spell doom for everyone in the vicinity. To them, retaliation was inevitable, and their anger simmered not at the soldiers but at the system that had chained them to such a fate, too broken to fight back for their own freedom.

Inside the house, Angelo’s team maintained a steady barrage of fire, efficiently cutting down wave after wave of enemies. The dwarves, caught off guard, were unable to mount an effective counterattack and dozens of bodies piled up in front of the shattered door with blood pooling in the street.

The ambush worked flawlessly. The enemy never had the chance to regroup, and the element of surprise tipped the scales in favor of the Austronesian forces. Yet Angelo knew that if the Iron Kingdom soldiers had expected their presence, the outcome could have been far grimmer. An encirclement, casualties, and a drawn-out siege were all terrifyingly real possibilities.

Once the last of the immediate threat was neutralized, Angelo gave a hand signal and the team moved out in tactical formation with their firearms trained on every blind spot, and they advanced cautiously, scanning for lingering enemies or reinforcements.

Behind them, the house lady watched with wide eyes while holding her children as the soldiers disappeared into the streets. The bodies of dozens of fallen occupiers lay sprawled at the doorstep, a grim reminder that the fight for freedom had only just begun.

As the Austronesian Forces emerged from the house, their disciplined formation struck an imposing figure, even in their rugged, utilitarian gear. The inferiors in the vicinity, humans and demi-humans accustomed to subjugation, felt an unfamiliar, paralyzing fear.

Moments ago, many had harbored vengeful thoughts toward the soldiers for drawing danger to their slum. Now, upon witnessing their mighty force and firepower, they stood frozen with cold feet, unable to move.

The troops formed a defensive line at the threshold of the house, allowing the house lady and her family to run away for their lives unnoticed. Clutching their meager belongings, the family vanished into the chaotic streets, with their fate uncertain.

To cover their escape, Angelo ordered his team to unleash another barrage of gunfire as a diversion. The deafening explosions shattered the fragile quiet of the capital, signaling their location to every dwarf in the city, and they are now coming to their location.

The Austronesian Forces began their calculated retreat and advanced toward their original entry point, which was the way where they came in from the time they arrived at the capital city.

They moved swiftly without breaking formation. Each soldier guarded the squad’s flanks while Angelo, at the center, issued commands and tactical updates. Every step brought them closer to their objective, but also closer to danger.

The distant roar of mobilizing troops filled the air. The dwarven occupiers of the Iron Kingdom scrambled to respond, interpreting the gunfire as a breach of their defenses. They believed the coalition forces had infiltrated the capital, not only threatening the heart of their occupation but also endangering its vital port, a critical asset for controlling maritime access to the mainland.

Entire garrisons were mobilized, with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of soldiers converging on the Austronesian squad's position.

The squad’s progress was steady until they reached an alleyway near their original entry point. A squad of dwarven soldiers suddenly appeared, raising their Magic Muskets and unleashing a barrage of crackling magical energy bullets. Arc of lightning from their Shock Lances streaked alongside the gunfire, shattering nearby walls and forcing the Austronesian soldiers to take cover.

"Return fire!" Angelo barked.

The Austronesians’ response was swift and deadly. With their higher fire rate firearms and experience in gun warfare, they quickly neutralized the attackers.

A dwarf fell with a precise shot through his head, followed by his comrades in quick succession.

Within less than a few seconds, the skirmish was over, leaving the dwarven squad lifeless on the ground.

But victory was fleeting. As the Austronesians approached their intended escape route, they saw it was now heavily guarded. The dwarves had anticipated their move, fortifying the laxly guarded entry point with overwhelming numbers.

Within just a moment, the occupiers spotted the advancing squad and moved in to intercept, calling reinforcements to encircle them.

The tight-knit order of their retreat dissolved into chaos as dwarven troops closed in from all sides.

Surrounded and outnumbered, Angelo’s squad abandoned their formation and scrambled for cover, as it was going to be a bloody battle.

————————————————————————

“Frag!!” Marco yelled as he threw a grenade into a group of dwarven soldiers. The moment they raised their enchanted muskets, the explosion tore through their magic armor, sending shards of metal and bone scattering like shrapnel, and the air was now filled with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and mana.

A sharp *crack* rang out as another dwarf fired at Marco, but he ducked instinctively, and the shot whizzed past his head. Spinning around, he squeezed the trigger of his rifle, and the bullets slammed into the armored dwarf's chest.

The impact barely dented the thick plates, but the force knocked the dwarf back and cursed in pain. Marco didn’t hesitate as he unloaded the rest of his magazine, each shot driving the dwarf back until he collapsed onto the rubble-strewn ground

“Goddammit!” Marco muttered under his breath as he slid his rifle into his Spatial Ring and drew his AF-1 rifle.

Without a pause, he fired two rounds into the downed enemy to make sure that he stayed there. Marco stepped back and took a quick check around his surroundings, taking note of his own guys were struggling, outnumbered by the overwhelming dwarven forces. Gritting his teeth, he raised his weapon and began picking off targets with precise shots, forcing some breathing room for his squad.

Taking a quick breather, Marco reupholstered his Magic Rifle and drew his mithril combat knife. The lightweight blade glinted ominously as he charged toward a distracted dwarf locked in combat with two of his men.

If there was one thing Marco had learned about dwarves, it was their weakness in melee combat. Even if they had a vast amount of mana, they couldn't use any Skills, Spells, or enhance their physical abilities, so while they excelled at crafting magic artifacts and long-range tactics, their short stature and reliance on magic tools left them vulnerable up close.

Marco ducked under the dwarf’s swing and drove his knife into the side of the soldier's armor. The mithril blade punched through the steel plate and into flesh, citing a dying scream from the soldier. Twisting the knife, Marco yanked it free and lashed out again, forcing the stunned dwarf’s comrades to back off. His swift intervention gave the two exhausted soldiers room to regroup.

The fighting had been brutal and dirty, the buildings and everything in the streets had forced the fighting into pockets of small conflicts.

Worse of all, during the battle, Marco’s squad had been scattered, leaving only a handful of fighters by his side. He glanced at the two remaining dwarves before him, seeing their hate-filled eyes glaring through the slits of their helmets as Marco keeps the knife between them.

Marco sighed, feigning weariness, and suddenly threw his knife high into the air. The dwarves' instincts betrayed them as they looked up. In that split second, Marco whipped outhis AF-2 “Magespitter” and fired two clean shots, each one finding its mark.

As the dwarves crumpled to the ground, he caught his knife mid-air and turned to his squad.

"Grab their magic muskets and see if we can rig them to work with mana stones!" He instructed the four normal soldiers without any magical technologies behind him, "Quickly now!"

The two winded soldiers quickly dashed forward and snatched the fallen weapons and equipment on the ground, while Marco kept his rifle on the watch around them, that is until his instincts screamed that something was wrong.

“DOWN!” he yelled as the hair on his neck stood on end. Without hesitation, he threw himself flat against the debris-strewn ground.

Unfortunately, the four soldiers’ human senses couldn't react in time before the earth around them erupted in a deafening explosion, throwing dirt, stone, and smoke into the air. Marco rolled instinctively into the cover of a half-collapsed wall, shielding himself from the blast, while smoke and dust choked the air where he had been standing moments before as bits of flesh and bone rained down.

As the smoke cleared, four soldiers accompanying him were in a dire state. The two were still breathing and were writhed in agony with severe injuries. The other two were dead, parts of their bodies missing and smoldering from the effects of whatever magic spell was unleashed.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” A deep and gravelly voice was heard laughing from the ground. “Did you think you’d escape unscathed? No one outruns the ‘Hand of Industry’!”

Marco peeked cautiously over the jagged edge of his cover and spotted a stout figure standing on top of the ruins of a nearby building, illuminated by the flickering light of the fires below. It was a heavily armored dwarf with a mechanical right arm, its fingers crackling with arcs of electricity. Standing beside him was a hulking automaton, a squat but heavily fortified golem with glowing red optics and a chest cavity pulsating with the eerie light of mana stones.

The dwarf spread his arms theatrically with a manic grin splitting his soot-streaked face. “I, Balin Forgefury, master artificer of the Copper Consortium, have brought you the future of warfare!”

“What the fuck?” Marco scowled as he ducked back into cover. “Great. A technophile hobo. Just my luck.”

A hiss of steam cut through the air as the automaton’s vents expelled bursts of heat, and its rotary cannon embedded in its one arm began to spin. The high-pitched whine of the charging mechanism sliced through the battlefield noise, a harbinger of destruction.

“Suppressive fire!” Marco yelled as he slammed his AF-2 rifle into position and leaned out just enough to take aim.

The iron sights of his AF-2 lined up perfectly with the dwarf’s chest and Marco squeezed the trigger twice. The painful slam of the rifle butt against his shoulder felt comforting, like the firm handshake of an old friend.

Both rounds hit their mark, causing the dwarf to stagger as shimmering magic shields flared around his armor, absorbing most of the kinetic energy. The impact, however, was enough to make him lose his footing and drop his oversized weapon.

“AHHHH!” Balin cried as he tumbled backward, crashing into a pile of rubble. His laughter quickly turned into a stream of curses.

Marco exhaled sharply and spat out his frustration "Crazy bastard! Eat Mithril!"

With practiced precision, he rose from his position and weaved through the debris as he signaled his squad to move.

“We’re outmatched. Fall back! Big enemies have arrived!”

One of the two remaining soldiers, struggling to carry his injured partner, hesitated with a pale face and stricken with fear. “What kind of enemies are we fighting like this?”

Marco cast a glance over his shoulder to see the golem, which was advancing through the smoke with its red optics glowing like malevolent eyes.

Each heavy step rattled the ground, and its rotary cannon began to spin faster, primed for annihilation.

“The corporate kind.”

Marco muttered under his breath before firing a burst of rounds at its chest. The bullets pinged harmlessly off its enchanted plating, but the distraction was enough to buy them precious seconds.

————————————————————————

Bang! BANG! BANG!

Paulo ducked behind a crumbling pillar as a storm of raw magical bullets shredded the air where he’d stood just moments before. Dust and debris rained around him as his instincts screamed, and he rolled to the side and snapped his AF-2 rifle up to return fire. The weapon barked in quick succession, spitting a hail of glowing rune-inscribed Mithril bullets rounds that streaked through the smoky battlefield toward the attacker.

“Damn it!” he growled under his breath. “The Iron Kingdom’s Special Forces? Just my luck.” Paulo pressed a hand to his commlink. “Nathan, alert the others, we’ve got company! These bastards are kitted out.”

Through the smoke, Paulo glimpsed the figure of a dwarf in blue uniform of the Iron Kingdom. The dwarf’s musket, oversized and lined with glowing runes, flared as he fired another volley of magic-infused rounds.

“Keep shooting, human! Let’s see how long you last!” the dwarf bellowed, his voice thick with the gravelly accent of the Iron Kingdom.

Paulo’s shots struck true, slamming into the scout's armor chest. Sparks and arcs of energy erupted as protective enchantments absorbed the impacts and rippled across the runed armor like lightning. The impact of the bullets slowed his advance, but the protective enchantments held firm.

"Stubborn bastard," Paulo spat as he repositioned deeper into the rubble.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him shuddered violently, and a sharp chill ran down his spine, a soldier’s instinct warning of impending death. He launched himself backward just as the earth exploded in a shower of dirt and stone.

From the freshly torn crater, another dwarf emerged, clad in heavy armor fitted with arcane drills on both arms. The drills spun furiously, glowing with a molten red hue that cast an eerie light on the battlefield.

“Ah ha!!” He laughed as he lunged toward Paulo with surprising speed. “Caught you, surface dweller!”

Paulo twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the jagged drills that swiped inches from his chest. He hit the ground hard, his shoulder screaming in protest as blood oozed from the shallow cut, but he ignored the pain by gritting his teeth and snapped his rifle up.

The driller smirked and shifted tactics in an instant. In a blur, the drills retracted, replaced by twin flamethrowers that hissed with alchemical fire.

“Time to roast you alive!”

A massive torrent of flames erupted, washing over the battlefield in a blinding wave of heat. Paulo dove for cover while feeling his heart pounding as the inferno consumed nearby structures into slag, melting rubble and metal alike. Sweat dripped down his face as the heat licked dangerously close at his heels, but he didn’t hesitate. With practiced precision, he fired a burst at Driller, and the Mithril rounds slammed into the dwarf’s enchanted armor.

“Gah! Persistent insect!” the driller snarled, the flames sputtering as the impact forced him to stagger back.

The Scout named Bilbo, now recovered, repositioned to flank Paulo. “We’ve got him, Gimli! Stay on him!”

Gimli was very curious of the weapons these humans were using, but despite being inferiors, he already knew that they were very dangerous, that was why he and Bilbo decided to attack from both sides.

With Bilbo's distraction, he would dig through the earth and reappear behind the soldiers to drill him to pieces or burn him and the rest of the other enemy soldiers while they are distracted by his teammate. But he did not expect for a mere inferior to be noticed so soon.

Just as those thoughts were racing in his mind, the human soldier rolled over and pointed the strange musket at him. His finger tightened on the trigger, and the world turned into flames and thunder.

“AHHHHHH!!”

Paulo roared in anger as he emptied his remaining magazine into the dwarf, all his shots unable to miss due to the very short distance. He watched as the Mithril rounds ripped into the driller’s enchanted armor, the force slamming the dwarf back as the protection spells failed.

Blood sprayed from the gaps in Gimli’s ruined armor, and his bloody body fell to the ground, convulsing as life drained from him.

Paulo stepped closer with smoke trailed from his weapon. He spat on the ground and spoke coldly.

“How do you like that, bitch?”

————————————————————————

"Cover me! Reloading!" Angelo shouted, diving into cover as streaks of arcane projectiles tore crackling past him and obliterated the spot where he had just been standing. His AF-2 rifle barked in sharp bursts as he leaned out, peppering the hulking dwarf in rune-carved armor. The rounds pinged harmlessly off the magical plating, leaving only faint scorch marks.

"Damn it! This guy’s a walking tank!" Angelo growled.

Across the street, Dwalin grinned wickedly and channeled thousands of his mana into his massive autocannon which spinned up. The weapon hummed as it absorbed his mana, amplifying its destructive power. A moment later, it unleashed a defeating volley of glowing rounds that shredded through the street, leaving craters and shattered stone in its wake.

"Angelo, MOVE!" Nathan yelled, firing his reinforced repeater rifle from a side alley. His bullets found their mark but ricocheted uselessly off the dwarf's enchanted armor. "We’re barely even scratching this bastard!"

Dwalin laughed. "Fools! My armor’s warded against your pathetic projectiles. You'll need more than those toothpicks to make even a dent!" He glanced at the lifeless body of his fallen ally, Gimli, and sighed theatrically. "Why is it so hard to find good help these days? They just don’t make dwarves like they used to."

Nathan hunkered down behind cover, reloading as he called out, "Yeah? And yo mama's so fat, she needs a mining team to find her feet!"

Angelo groaned as he quickly took the time to scamper away to another better position. "Trash talk? Are you serious? At a time like this?"

Nathan peeked out with a smirk. “But it’s working!”

True to Nathan's words, Dwalin’s jovial expression darkened, and his piercing eyes began to glow an icy blue. The air grew frigid and frost creeped across the rubble.

“What. Did. You. Say?” His voice was a low growl that sent shivers down their spines.

“Uh-oh,” Angelo froze, fumbling to reload his rifle. “Now he’s mad.”

"Haha! The bait is definitely working!" Nathan grinned wider and leaned into it, "Hey fucker! Yo mama’s so stupid, when I told her she lost her mind, she started a dungeon crawl to find it!"

The temperature plummeted further, each breath forming visible puffs of vapor as the battlefield turned unnaturally cold. Dwalin’s laughter stopped entirely, replaced by a quiet, seething rage.

“You dare insult my mother?” His voice was a low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate the very ground beneath them.

“Great,” Angelo muttered, clicking his rifle into place. “He’s extremely pissed, but at least it's better than seeing that cocky smile.”

“ENOUGH!”

Dwalin’s roar tore through the street, and a shockwave of raw mana blasted outward. The ground buckled and cracked, sending chunks of concrete and rubble flying. Angelo, Nathan, and the other soldiers were launched backward, forced to dive behind anything they could find to avoid the deadly hail of debris.

“YOU DARE SPEAK ILL OF MY MAMA?!”

The raw force of his rage reverberated through the street, leaving a crater where he stood, and an insane amount of magical energy rippled off him like a living storm.

Seeing this, Nathan's face went pale in fear.

“Okay… maybe I overdid it.”

"Light him up!" Angelo shouted as he rose from cover. He and Nathan, joined by the rest of the squad, unleashed a storm of firepower. Hundreds of normal bullets, enchanted bullets, and incendiary bullets tore through the air, all converging on the advancing dwarf.

For a brief moment, Dwalin staggered under the onslaught, but his reaction was terrifyingly fast as he quickly twisted and sidestepped the worst of the onslaught with surprising agility.

"It seems you leave me no choice," Dwalin growled, his voice heavy with menace. He slammed a gauntleted fist against his chest, and his autocannon folded seamlessly into a massive war hammer, its head crackling with arcs of blue lightning. The runes across his armor flared to life, bathing him in an aura of raw, crackling energy with arcs of lightning danced over his frame.

"Behold my father's masterpiece, Stormbreaker!"

"Incoming!" Nathan yelled, watching in horror as Dwalin’s speed increased exponentially. The crazily fast speed dwarf barreled toward him like a living thunderstorm, hammer raised high.

Nathan barely rolled out of the way as the Stormbreaker came crashing down with cataclysmic force, and the impact obliterated his cover and half the building behind him, sending him sprawling. His tactical vest tore apart as he hit the ground, gasping for air.

"Fall back!" Angelo shouted, spraying covering fire as the rest of the squad scrambled to retreat. His shots only managed to spark off the dwarf's armor, but it was enough to draw Dwalin’s attention.

“Six of us can't solo him! Move!” Angelo added as he yanked a flashbang from his belt, pulled the pin, and lobbed it at the charging dwarf before spinning on his heels and sprinting away.

The grenade detonated in a blinding flash of light and defeaning sound, momentarily disorienting Dwalin and halted in his tracks. The dwarf let out a guttural scream, clutching his helmet as his senses were all dialed up to over ten times a normal person's sensitivity while the squad seized the opportunity to retreat.

"Yeah! Take that bitch!" Nathan panted as he ran, holding on to the chest. "Goddamnit!" He wheezed, limping as Angelo came up beside him to help.

"You good?" Angelo asked, slinging Nathan's arm over his shoulder and glanced at the blood staining Nathan’s tactical gear.

"No," Nathan gritted out, wincing. “Think that fucker got me some. My ribs feel like gravel, and my radio’s fried,"

"Just keep moving. We need to regroup and figure out how to bring that bastard down." Angelo gestured to the rest of the squad to assist as they disappeared deeper into the ruined city, the echoes of Dwalin's enraged roars following close behind, like a storm hunting them down.

————————————————————————

Paulo barely managed to dive out of the way as a high-caliber round punched into the concrete wall behind him, showering him in shards of stone. The sniper had skill, and nerves of steel. He cursed under his breath, feeling his pulse quickening as he pressed himself against the crumbling barricade.

“That damn dwarf… what is he made of?” Paulo growled as he peeked out cautiously. He caught a fleeting glimpse of his enemy, a stocky figure clad in reinforced combat armor, almost glowing in the faint light of the battlefield. The metallic hum of a grappling hook filled the air, and the shadow vanished again, darting across the rooftops.

Bilbo Ironheart, one of the Iron Kingdom’s elite scouts, was infamous for his agility and precision. His custom-built Deepcore Scout Rifle, marked with runes of accuracy and speed-enhancing dwarven tech, hissed as he fired another shot, forcing Paulo to duck again, close enough to ruffle his hair.

"Missed again? Tsk, you humans don't learn!" Bilbo called out with a mix of mocking and confidence in his tone. His gravely voice, carrying that trademark miner's drawl, echoed eerily from above, masking his exact position.

Paulo muttered a curse as he gripped his heavily modified AF-1 Marksman Magic Rifle. It wasn’t just a magic gun, it was a precision instrument outfitted with experimental dampeners to counteract recoil and a mana-powered scope that allowed him to track even the faintest heat signatures. He leaned out again, this time catching Bilbo mid-swing between two buildings. He fired.

However, the dwarf’s reaction was unreal. With inhuman reflex, Bilbo dropped suddenly and twisted his body in midair to avoid the incoming bullet with a speed that seemed almost supernatural. He landed heavily and rolled to absorb the impact before grappling up to another vantage point.

"Damn it!" Paulo hissed, working the bolt of his rifle to chamber another round. The two continued their deadly game of cat and mouse, firing and repositioning, neither willing to back down.

“Gotta say, you're persistent,” Bilbo taunted, “Most humans are fertilizer by now! Must be the highland air keeping you spry!”

Paulo ignored the jab as his thoughts were racing. He could hear distant gunfire and explosions, his separated squad likely battling their own nightmares elsewhere.

‘I hope Angelo and the others are holding out… These bastards split us up for a reason.’

Bilbo, meanwhile, was analyzing his target. He respected Paulo's skill but knew his kind, “You’ve got spirit, lad! Shame it won’t matter when you’re a smear on the ground.”

As if on cue, the dwarf dropped down suddenly and unleashed a volley of electrified flares from his custom wrist launcher. They exploded into dazzling light, disorienting Paulo and temporarily scrambling his scope’s readings.

If it wasn't for his Mithril armor, he would've been fried to death.

Paulo growled and switched to his backup with his combat knife made out of Mithril. If the sniper wanted close combat, Paulo would give it to him. He charged into the light with his weapon at the ready.

But Bilbo had prepared for this. He pulled out a Breach Cutter, a weapon designed for mining but perfect for splitting enemies in two. Its glowing blade of intense magical energy hummed ominously as he smirked.

"Come on, then, human. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to handle the depths!"

————————————————————————

“AHHHHHHH!” Marco yelled as he dove behind cover for what felt like the hundredth time. Dust and debris rained down in choking clouds as another volley of magical missiles obliterated the crumbling walls around him. Each explosions lit up the battlefield like fireworks, the shockwaves pounding his ears and hammering ever closer. “YOU CRAZY, SHORT-STATURED MAGIC-CHUCKING MANIACAL LUNATIC!”

Coughing and brushing rubble from his jacket, Marco reached into his Spatial Ring and retrieved his trusted AF-3 "Magekiller" rifle. The experimental firearm outfitted with anti-magic rounds designed to disrupt mana constructs and pierce magical defenses.

Crawling through the rubble, he poked his head out just in time to spot the source of his misery.

Standing on top of the half-destroyed building, arms outstretched in spellcasting fury, was Balin Forgefury, a grizzled dwarven engineer-magus known for his mastery of arcane constructs. His latest creation, a towering mana-fueled golem with a crystalline core, was raining magic bullets and missiles like an artillery emplacement.

“You think you can outlast me, lad? I’ve been blasting tunnels and enemies for generations! Come out and face me like a warrior!” Balin bellowed, his voice carrying over the carnage while his wild bushy beard bristled with arcane energy, glowing faintly as his eyes burned with determination.

“Eat adamantite, midget!” Marco retorted as he rolled into position and fired a perfectly placed shot.

The adamantite-tipped round tore straight through the golem’s crystalline core, shattering it in a cascade of magical sparks before the bullet continued on and slammed into Balin's armored chest. The dwarf staggered back with a pained grunt, clutching his chest as the remnants of the golem disintegrated into glowing shards.

“That was my favorite golem!” Balin roared as he stumbled before regaining his footing.

Now with his golem destroyed and exposed, he began to move left and right, zigzagging in an attempt to avoid Marco’s fire. But Marco wasn’t going to let him escape. A fourth shot hit Balin square in the shoulder, sending him tumbling off the roof and crashing onto the shattered street below.

“Hah! How do you like that, huh?” Marco taunted with a grin as he crowed from his prone position and fired another burst for good measure. But his confidence wavered as his weapon clicked. He tilted the rifle to check the mechanism. “Oh, come on. A jam? Really? Now?”

Balin slowly rose to his feet with dust and blood streaking his weathered face. His eyes locked onto Marco with the intensity of a molten forge. He panted, then barked, “You... insufferable whelp! You dare to bully an elder? A ‘master’ of the arcane arts and mechanical genius?”

Marco raised his hands disarmingly, laughing nervously as he edged backward, trying to find some cover. “Bully? Me? I mean, come on, it’s not like you’re hurt, right? You look... totally fine! In fact, you look great for your age, by the way! Really pulling off that glowing rage thing! Really!”

The dwarf ignored him as his fury reached its peak. “This insolence shall not go unpunished!" he roared, reaching into his own Spatial Ring, and pulled out a metallic cube from his Spatial Ring.

It unfolded with a flash of mana and expanded into a hulking mechanical golem, this one twice as large as the last. Its arms bristled with arcane cannons, and a massive missile pod mounted on its back whirred menacingly to life.

“Prepare yourself, human! I’ll show you the wrath of Forgefury! Survive if you can as over FIVE HUNDRED MISSILES AWAIT YOU!!”

"Oh, come on!" Marco yelped as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward a nearby ruined building, diving through a shattered window as the golem’s targeting systems locked onto him.

WHOOOOSH!

The first salvo hit, obliterating the ground where Marco had stood seconds before. He scrambled deeper into the wreckage and clinged to whatever cover he could find as missile after missile slammed into the surrounding area, reducing dozens of buildings to rubble.

WHOOOOOOSH! WHOOOOOOSH!

Marco curled into a ball and hugged his rifle and screamed like a little girl.

“I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!”

And the world around him exploded.

————————————————————————

Angelo’s head snapped up as the ground beneath him trembled violently all of a sudden and saw a towering, mushroom-like cloud appearing into the sky, and moments later, a deafening rumble surged toward them, growing louder with every second.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" he shouted.

The shockwave hit like a freight train, followed by a choking wall of dust that slammed into both the human and dwarven soldiers. Bodies were hurled through the air like ragdolls as the chaos left friend and foe scattered across the battlefield.

Angelo shook the disorientation from his head and quickly took advantage of the situation. "Now's our chance, clear them out!" he barked.

The remaining human squad sprang into action by quickly dispatching the dwarven warriors who were still reeling from the blast.

As the dust began to settle, one soldier stumbled over, coughing. “What the hell was that?”

Angelo ignored him, scanning the area and noticed there were no more enemy soldiers that remained standing as he holstered his weapon. "Sound off! Who's missing?"

A quick headcount confirmed the worst. “Where’s Paulo and Marco?” he demanded.

A soldier pointed westward, toward the origin of the smoke cloud. “I think they’re that way… but it’s bad, sir. Real bad.”

“Damn it,” Angelo muttered. He turned to Nathan. “Take command of the team and head to the rendezvous point. Stay sharp.”

Nathan nodded, signaling the squad to regroup. Angelo then gestured to two nearby soldiers. “You two, with me. Let’s move!”

The trio sprinted toward the blast site, and the devastation became clearer with every step. After a short distance, they found a large portion of the city block was obliterated, as if some godlike force had swiped away buildings with a single destructive attack. What remained were jagged ruins, craters that pockmarked the earth, and the acrid stench of scorched metal.

“Spread out and stay alert,” Angelo ordered as they cautiously approached the epicenter of the destruction.

The only area unaffected stood a lone dwarf hunched over and panting heavily. Behind him lay the shattered remains of a massive construct, its mangled pieces sparking faintly.

Angelo gave a subtle nod to one of his soldiers, who nodded and crept forward stealthily, and with a quick strike to the back of the dwarf’s neck, the man crumpled to the ground unconscious.

“What the hell happened here?” Angelo muttered, surveying the destruction. He scanned the area, and his jaw tightened. “And where the hell are Paulo and Marco?”

Suddenly, a crack of a wood splintering underfoot snapped their attention. The soldiers spun around with their weapons raised and aimed at the direction of the sound, ready to fire.

“Easy, easy, it’s me!” Paulo emerged from the rubble, limping slightly, with a figure slung over his shoulder.

He dumped the limp body of a dwarf clad in blue armor and sporting a bright orange beard onto the ground with little ceremony.

“About time,” Angelo said as he lowered his weapon. His gaze flicked to Paulo’s shoulder. “You look like shit. That wound’s nasty.” he commented as he gestured to the wound on his friend’s shoulder, where a stub of a broken off iron rod was struck there.

“Feels worse than it looks,” Paulo grunted, wincing as he adjusted his posture. “Hurts like fuck, but I’m fine. Took this guy out on the way. No big deal.”

“And Marco?” Angelo pressed with a sharp tone.

Paulo paused, catching his breath before glancing back toward the ruins. “Haven’t seen him yet. He was near ground zero when this went off.”

The tension thickened as the team exchanged uneasy glances. Angelo’s jaw tightened as he scanned the devastation again.

“I… got a bad feeling.”