I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 152: Fire Above Part 2

The Apache roared back across the skies like a steel predator, blades chopping through the upper air currents as Inigo leaned slightly on the cyclic. Smoke from the earlier encounter drifted lazily behind him, fading into the distance. He was far enough now—deep into the highland wilderness where no town or traveler dared tread.

He should’ve been elated.

After all, he’d just cleared out three monsters without so much as a scratch on the paint.

But he wasn’t smiling.

Inside the cockpit, Inigo adjusted his helmet’s fit, glancing again at the weapons readout. Ammunition levels remained healthy. No damage sustained. Systems green across the board. The machine was flawless. It had done its job.

And yet...

"Those things didn’t even pose a threat to this," he muttered. "Is this overkill?"

He thought about it—just for a second—how one man in a flying weapons platform could turn entire battles in this world without ever leaving the sky. It didn’t sit right. Not because of guilt. Not exactly. But because it felt... detached.

Too easy.

The world below didn’t even know what was coming.

Still, training was training.

He spotted a sharp ridge line ahead that descended into a jagged ravine—perfect for practicing terrain-following maneuvers. Flicking a few toggles, he switched to manual throttle adjustment and dipped the nose forward.

The Apache dropped low, skimming just above the ground like a hawk on the hunt. Trees blurred past to the right. Black volcanic spires loomed on the left. The skids nearly kissed the rocky surface once—too close. He adjusted with a subtle nudge and rose five meters.

Adrenaline surged.

Now this was flying.

The terrain twisted into a canyon—narrow, sunken, and full of dead trees. He killed speed and began weaving between stone columns, the metal body of the Apache reacting with surprising grace.

"Come on," he said under his breath. "Let’s see how tight you can turn."

He banked hard left—nearly scraping a jagged wall—then rolled right, hugging a spiraling descent that coiled like a serpent. Trees flashed by. Roots twisted up like claws from the blackened soil. Every second demanded precision.

It wasn’t combat, but it was training.

If he had to dogfight a dragon someday, he couldn’t rely solely on firepower.

Speed. Maneuverability. Instinct.

As he cleared the last bend and ascended out of the ravine, a sharp tone pierced the cockpit.

Radar ping. Multiple blips.

"Incoming?"

He adjusted the scope.

No... not airborne.

Ground-level.

Heat signatures. Small group. Five total. Spaced apart, but moving fast.

Inigo narrowed his eyes and brought the Apache to a hover. The targeting HUD zoomed in, tracking the movement through the treetops.

Humanoids again.

They sprinted between the trees, weapons drawn. Crude metal armor. Blotched skin.

"More of those monsters..."

He couldn’t identify the species from this altitude—maybe orcs, maybe something else. They weren’t charging, though. They were chasing something.

Something smaller.

A flash of pale movement darted through the brush ahead of them.

Inigo focused the scope. A figure—humanoid—barely five feet tall, wearing what looked like a tattered cloak. No visible weapon. Limping.

"Someone’s running."

Another radar ping. Arrows flew skyward—poorly aimed. None came close.

Inigo didn’t hesitate.

"Not on my watch."

He dropped altitude, skimming treetops as he closed in on the pursuit. The Apache’s sensors locked onto the five hostiles. He lined up his cannon.

"Cannon fire. Controlled bursts."

BRRRRRRT!

Two of the pursuers exploded in a mist of gore and dirt. The others froze, looked up—and scattered.

One darted behind a tree. Another hit the ground and rolled. The last fled back the way they came, screaming something guttural that didn’t carry.

Inigo tracked the runner, lined up, and fired again.

BRRRRT.

Dust and blood.

He didn’t miss.

Only one left now—sheltered behind a dead log. The radar still read his position. Inigo hovered directly overhead and waited.

Nothing.

The signature didn’t move.

"Smart," he muttered.

He switched to infrared.

A faint heat glow revealed the monster pressed flat against the ground, trying to mask its presence.

"Too bad."

This time, he toggled the Hydra pod.

One rocket.

FWOOOSH.

The explosion lit the trees with a fiery blast, branches cracking and falling in the wake. The last signature vanished from the radar.

Silence returned.

Inigo circled once to confirm, then landed the Apache a hundred meters away in a flattened field.

He grabbed his rifle, unlatched the cockpit canopy, and jumped down.

The air was hot. Smoldering. The scent of burned bark and charred flesh clung to everything.

He made his way toward where the fleeing figure had gone.

"Hey!" he called out. "It’s safe now! I’m not your enemy!"

Nothing answered.

He raised his rifle slightly, just in case.

As he pushed through the underbrush, he spotted the figure huddled near a moss-covered rock. Not a child. A halfling—male, judging by the build—dressed in tattered leather and covered in bruises. A broken crossbow hung loosely from his shoulder.

The halfling looked up, eyes wide with fear and awe.

"I... I saw you in the sky," he whispered. "The sky demon. You saved me."

Inigo lowered his rifle. "Just a guy with a flying machine. You okay?"

The halfling blinked, trying to process.

"I... I think so. You killed them all. Just... fire from the heavens."

Inigo knelt beside him. "Why were they chasing you?"

"I was hunting... small game. Tracked a rabbit too far. Then I found them. They saw me."

"Who were they?"

"Raiders. Orcs, maybe. Or worse. From the Red Scar clan, I think. They’ve been coming down from the mountains. Stealing, killing."

Inigo stood and looked to the north.

So there were more of them.

A lot more.

He helped the halfling up. "Get back to Ironmark. You’ll be safe there. Tell the guards what you saw."

The halfling nodded, still dazed. "What do I tell them you are?"

Inigo paused, thinking.

Then he smirked.

"Tell them I’m the guy who shoots lightning from the sky."

—

By dusk, the Apache was back in its camouflaged clearing, cooling off after the flight. Inigo sat beside it, helmet off, sweat drying on his brow.

His muscles ached, but his heart beat steady.

Today had been a test. Not just for the helicopter—but for him.

He had the power now. The reach. The tools.

But with each use, the question grew louder in the back of his mind.

Just because I can wipe them out from the sky... should I?

He looked up at the quiet forest canopy above.

War was coming. Dragons. Clans. Maybe armies.

But right now... he had the skies.

And for now, that would be enough.