The two pairs of fighter attackers F-12 Phoenixes split up into two groups and dived in from two different directions. Each fighter jet was loaded with dual 70 mm rocket pods under its wing, holding 10 rockets each, and the forward gunner/copilot was equipped with twin machine guns.
"Phantom-1 to all Phoenixes, conserve your ammo, two rockets per ship, over," the squad leader's voice came over the comms. "Make your shots count!"
As the Phoenixes lined up for their attack runs, the skies above the orc fleet suddenly erupted into a nightmare. Bolts of lightning, fireballs, ice spikes, and ballista bolts shot upward, forcing the Phoenixes to move and dodge through the storm of magical and physical anti-air fire with surprising agility.
"All Phoenixes, break! Break! Break!" the squad leader shouted, startled by the intensity of the counterattack. He noticed the orc ships had arranged themselves in a crescent formation. The layered defense was unusual, and he wondered what its purpose was.
The Phoenixes managed to wing out the barrage with remarkable skill, though one jet took a lightning bolt to its wing. It would've damaged, if not destroyed the fighter jet, but fortunately, the Orichalcum steel plating that had recently been added to the jet absorbed the magical impact, leaving only a scorched mark where the bolt struck.
"Thunderwings, draw fire from the Phoenixes!" the squadron leader ordered. "Phoenixes, commence attack runs after Thunderwings take the brunt. Let them soak up all the AA fire!"
Chorus of acknowledgement sounded out from the pilots in the comms and the Phoenixes formed up again, circling back for another attack run, while the heavily armored Thunderwings swooped in and strafed the ships while drawing the fleet's firepower.
The orc fleet responded with a dazzling display of magic, as bolts of lightning, fireballs, and ice spikes flew toward the Thunderwings, exploding like fireworks in the air. But the attack helicopters moved too quickly for most spells to land a hit. The few lucky strikes that did connect merely chipped the Orichalcum-reinforced armor, leaving scorch marks but causing no real damage.
Exhausted from their frantic spellcasting, the orc shamans paused to catch their breath. As the skies cleared of magical defenses, the anti-dragon ballista crews went to reload.
The Phoenixes took the opportunity and dove in for another attack. With the defenses temporarily overwhelmed, they unleashed their rockets, setting orc ships ablaze and tearing through their ranks. Explosions rippled across the fleet as more vessels and orcs were consumed by fire and destruction. By the time their ammo was depleted, the Phoenixes had left nearly a quarter of the fleet in flames.
"All units, RTB," the squad leader ordered, as No. 2 and No. 3 Squadrons regrouped. "No. 1 Squadron, stay and observe."
The Thunderwings of No. 2 Squadron and the Phoenixes of No. 3 Squadron broke formation, heading back to base for re-arming and refueling.
The admiral glanced at the chalkboard secured to the wall, where a command operator had written down time estimates for each squadron's return to base, along with the time needed for rearming and refueling. Another column showed the projected time for the orc fleet to reach landfall.
Based on the information, the admiral calculated that the squadrons would have time for one more strike before nightfall. Once darkness descended, engaging the orc forces on the ground would be far more difficult, and he'd likely have to rely on the Phantoms for a night raid.
He wondered what the orc admiral would do next. Would they split their forces, or continue to present themselves as target practice for the pilots?
—————————————————
Lieutenant Colonel Ciaphas Cahyono crossed his arms as he stood before the tactical display with his sharp eyes focused on the blinking blue icons representing friendly units. The electronic hum of the command center buzzed in the background, but his attention was fixed on the retreating aircraft.
"All units, RTB," he called out over the comms and watched as the blue icons shifted and turned, heading back to base. He then switched his gaze to another screen, which displayed a high-resolution image of the smoking Orc fleet. The image, captured from a remote camera on one of the fighter jets, revealed the devastating aftermath of the airstrike.
His second-in-command, standing beside him, pointed at the carnage on the display. "Looks like we took out at least a quarter of the Orc fleet with that strike."
Cahyono nodded as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not bad for a bunch of newbies."
"They'll have enough time for one more strike before nightfall," the second-in-command added. "We can soften them up even more before our welcoming party on the beach."
Cahyono frowned as he studied the Orc fleet. "Strange formation they are adopting," he muttered, gesturing to the crescent-shaped arrangement of the ships. "Whoever's in charge hasn't scattered them, lucky for us."
His second-in-command frowned and leaned closer to the screen. "It almost looks like some kind of encirclement tactic. See how the tips of the crescent could trap any ships that try to break through?"
"For anti-air, though? Doesn't make sense," Cahyono said, still studying the pattern.
"Wait a second," his second-in-command interrupted, pointing to the center of the crescent. "This might not be anti-air. I think it is a formation to do with dragons."
Cahyono raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
"Look. Think about it, the way dragons attack are similar to helicopters, right? They hover in place and spit fireballs or cast spells, sweeping over their targets. This crescent would trap them in the middle, allowing spellcasters, archers, and ballistas to attack from all sides."
Cahyono considered the explanation and nodded slowly. "Makes sense. But wouldn't a dragon just break out of the formation?"
"Most likely yes, but don't forget dragons fly slower than jets, especially when they're hovering. It'd take them time to gain speed."
"I see," Cahyono grinned. "Looks like they didn't account for fast movers like our jets."
His second-in-command chuckled. "Yeah, I'm betting whoever is in charge is probably cursing and swearing at the Air Force right now."
—————————————————
"RAWRRR!! LITTLE RATS!!"
Jiak the Skull Krusher cursed as he took in the sight of his ships burning around him. Flames licked the burnt remains of ships that he had painstakingly built up piece by piece, now burning, sinking, or drifting helplessly. His fists clenched around the armrests of his skull-adorned throne, and glared up to the skies, seeing the "dragons" circling above his fleet, like vultures waiting for a chance to grab a tasty green snack.
He could almost feel their eyes on him, mocking him and taunting him from the skies.
"Inform all ships ta push faster! We need ta get ta land before more uv dose fly'n kreatures kome back!" Jiak ordered which boomed across the deck, and the shaman at his side bowed before relaying his command through his enchanted crystal orb.
Jiak's brow furrowed as he glared upward once more.
"Wot are dose vile fly'n beasts? Some kind uv dragon?" he demanded, still fixated on the unnatural creatures that had reduced his fleet to ruins.
"Warmaster, I have no idea," The shaman shook his head. "I kould not detect any trace uv magical powa 'n im an' dey do not look like any dragons i know uv."
Jiak's frown deepened, and his sharp tusks grinding against each other. "Tell 'da shamans ta kast a shimmer'n spell ova 'da fleet, an' use instant transport magic ta speed us up. Jiak want us invisible and faster! Now!"
The shaman hesitated with beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Warmaster, 'da spell will only hold for less dan a span uv a turn uv 'da glass. It will not kova 'da fleet all 'da way ta land an' us'n both instant transport an' 'da shimmer'n spell will 'haust all 'da powaz uv 'da shamans!"
Jiak's eyes flared as impatience overtook him. "Tell da fleet ta close up. Dat will reduce 'da amount uv powa needed ta kova 'da whole fleet. Now move!"
"But, Warmaster…" The shaman protested.
"I said enough!" Jiak snapped. "Do it!"
"Yes, Warmasta..." The shaman bowed before scurrying off to relay the orders.
Jiak turned back to the burning horizon. He had built this fleet through blood and betrayal, and no flying beasts, dragon or not, would stop him from reaching the shores.
—————————————————
The sailor beside the Admiral let out a sudden cry of alarm, pulling the Admiral's attention away from the map he had been studying.
"What is it?" the Admiral demanded.
"Admiral! The enemy fleet…" The sailor stared at the screen. "It's gone! All that's left is wreckage from the airstrike."
"What?" The Admiral climbed out of his seat and stood over the sailor. "Show me!"
"Sir, one minute they are there, the second they just vanished!" The sailor said, rewinding the footage, revealing the Orc fleet bunching together, then a faint shimmer in the air. And suddenly, the ships vanished. The Admiral played the clip in slow motion, studying the odd distortion.
He keyed his comms, "P-1, do you have eyes on the Orc fleet?"
[What do you mean?] The pilot's voice crackled through the speaker. [Aren't they below-… wait. Where did they go? When did I go off course?]
"Never mind," the Admiral replied. "P-2, what's your status?"
[They suddenly disappeared beneath us,] the Phantom-2 pilot responded in his deep bass voice carrying frustration. [It looks like they used some kind of cloaking spell.]
"Roger that, tango, out," The Admiral cut the line and pondered his options before turning to his tech. "Switch to infrared."
The tech nodded, switching the camera mode to infra, which the screen flickered to a dark gray as the sailor adjusted the settings, but still, there was nothing.
"No signs of the fleet, sir," the tech confirmed with tension rising in his voice.
"Then where the hell are they!?"
"Admiral, I've found them!" Another sailor pointed out dozens of ships like shapes highlighted in white against a gray background.
The Admiral stared at the tactical screen, feeling the weight of the situation. The Orc fleet had not just vanished, they had shifted, teleported, right past his naval blockade. His fingers tightened on the handrails as the sailor's discovery played out on the monitor.
"Damn it, they're using some teleportation spell to outmaneuver us," he muttered to himself in irritation, as the plan he had already set up failed. "This is gonna be a bitch to fight!"
"Admiral, they're heading for an unsecured beach near Guna," another officer warned. "With that spell, the time estimation of them hitting the shore went from three hours to less than one hour at this rate."
"Is that the area where Delta Company is nearby?"
"Yes, sir. But they're outgunned."
"Send them an immediate warning!" the Admiral barked. "I want Delta digging in now. We can't let these bastards land without a fight."
"Already done, sir. Delta's been informed. They're mobilizing."
One of the sailors spoke up. "Sir, I doubt the Orcs can maintain such a large-scale spell for long. That kind of magic must have spent a lot of their juice to stay hidden, especially after teleporting their entire fleet."
"Then this is the perfect time to hit them before they can recover," The Admiral as he leaned over the tactical display and keyed the comms, issuing orders swiftly. "Send No. 2 Squadron in immediately. Engage the fleet and force them to break cover. Have No. 3 Squadron hold position ten kilometers back. We'll let the Phantoms soften them up, then hit them hard when the spell drops before targeting the Scabbard-class transports first, those are priority. Without them, their ground assault falls apart."
"Understood, Admiral. Orders relayed!" The sailor snapped to attention, relaying the orders fast as the Admiral returned to the tactical screen where the fleet's icons shifted into motion, his mind already calculating the next move.
"It's going to be a race against time." He checked the countdown to sunset, just an hour left. This is the same moment when the Orcs would arrive on their lands, and would likely aim under cover of night, but if he could cripple their transport ships now, their forces would be stranded offshore, easy prey for his air squadrons.
If not, then the Liberation army would be waiting for them.
"Let's see how long that magical trick of theirs lasts," he muttered grimly as his eyes fixed on the approaching enemy.