Extra's Sign In System: The Hero's an Idiot!

Chapter 245: Chapter 245: Four Hundred Miles

Chapter 245: Four Hundred Miles

The freezing wind howled at two hundred miles per hour.

Astraxion tore through the thick, gray clouds hanging over the northern plain. The neon-purple Void Dragon was massive, but carrying six heavily armored Level 100 combatants on his spiked back was pushing his aerial endurance to the limit.

It was loud. It was freezing. And it was miserable.

Aegon knelt near the base of the dragon’s neck, gripping a thick spinal ridge to keep from being thrown off. The Crucible Warlord braced his iron-plated boots against the scaled hide. Behind him, Reina, Lucien, Bram, Natalie, and Estella held on in tight, exhausted silence.

They were the most lethal strike force on the continent. But they were also teenagers who had not eaten a full meal in eight days.

The low-grade sap rations kept them conscious, but the physical reality of starvation was settling deep into their bones. Every muscle ached. The freezing wind cut straight through their Vanguard cloaks.

Aegon held the smooth silver communication crystal in his left hand.

"We are entering the Bastion Six grid," Aegon yelled over the roaring wind, projecting his voice back to the squad. "We bypass the southern approach. Astraxion will hook wide to the east, circle the mountains, and we enter the city from the north."

Reina leaned forward. The Cryo-Berserker frowned deeply.

"That adds six hours to the flight," Reina argued loudly. "It burns the dragon out before we even land. The Cult column is coming from the south. We should land south and meet them at the gate."

Aegon shook his head. It was the first time in his life he held true, unquestioned authority over a battlefield deployment.

"If we land south, the Cult traps us against the city wall," Aegon countered firmly. "We put Bastion Six between us and the column. A defender who arrives behind the enemy has already lost the option to retreat."

Reina tightened her grip on her double-sided axe. She thought it was a terrible call. It exposed them unnecessarily and wasted time they did not have. But she did not argue further.

Aegon held his ground. He issued the command to Astraxion.

The massive dragon banked sharply to the east, taking the long, exhausting route. Aegon gripped the crystal, his stomach knotting. He was not certain he was right.

Four hundred miles away, deep inside the dark bunker of Bastion Seven, Draven watched the blue holographic map.

He saw the single, fast-moving purple dot representing Astraxion suddenly veer sharply east, abandoning the direct line to Bastion Six.

Draven instantly recognized the tactical shift. Aegon was taking the northern route.

Draven’s hand hovered over the runic communication console.

’It is the wrong call,’ Draven thought coldly, calculating the vectors. ’Six extra hours on a dragon that is already carrying six armored fighters at his limit. If the column moves faster than projected, Astraxion lands too spent to fly again for a day, and Aegon has thrown away his only air asset before the first arrow.’

Draven pressed his thumb against the activation rune. He opened the channel.

He took a breath to speak.

Then he stopped.

He closed the channel without saying a word.

The silence burned his chest. The Ghost Protocol was designed to build a squad that could fight the Kings. That meant they had to learn how to function without him. The exact second Draven corrected Aegon’s deployment, Aegon stopped being the commander.

If Draven fixed the mistake, Aegon would remain a follower forever.

Draven pulled his hand back from the console. He stood in the dark, watching his squad fly an exhausted dragon directly into a massive tactical error, and he forced himself to do nothing at all.

High above the dead earth, the flight continued.

Bram Stonehelm sat near the back of the dragon. The heavy earth mage leaned against a spiked ridge, his eyes closed. His shoulder throbbed with a dull, constant ache.

Natalie Tokks slid carefully across the scales and sat beside him.

The Tempest Sniper did not say a word. She pulled a small vial of medicinal salve from her belt, reached under the edge of his Vanguard armor, and carefully applied it to the edge of his bandages.

Bram opened his eyes. He gave a single, slow nod of thanks. Neither of them mentioned the wound.

Near the dragon’s tail, Estella Everdawn sat with her knees pulled to her chest.

The Star Mage was not looking down at the blighted landscape. She was staring intently at the silver communication crystal in Aegon’s hand.

It was the fifteenth instance.

She was no longer watching the man. She was watching the link. She was tracking the exact frequency of the geographical data flowing through the crystal.

She was analyzing how Draven could map a continent from a basement without using standard Vanguard scrying arrays.

Questions about Draven have been rising in her mind for a long time now. The more she knew him, the more mysterious he grew. She understood he had some secrets to hide, but her nature just couldn’t let go of those secrets.

She had deep faith in him because she was saved by him. She wanted to be useful. She did not want to be discarded. Her mind was a mess.

Astraxion finally banked out of the eastern mountains.

The ruined silhouette of Bastion Six appeared on the horizon.

The sight of it from the air was devastating. The grand central plaza where Gunther had fought the Fifth Elder was still a massive, scorched black crater. Entire residential blocks were leveled. The high perimeter walls were only half-rebuilt, patched together with rough stone and iron scaffolding.

But the thing that landed the hardest was the land outside the walls.

The agricultural fields stretching out from the Bastion were completely bare. The dirt was tilled, but nothing was planted. Lord Commander Gunther Stillbane had sent every last sack of his winter seed stock south to Bastion Seven.

The garrison patrolling the broken walls looked thin and exhausted. They were operating at two-thirds strength on starvation rations.

Astraxion descended rapidly, roaring as his heavy claws hit the cracked stone of the Vanguard landing pad.

The six operatives slid off the dragon’s back.

A massive figure stepped out of the shadows of the command post.

Gunther Stillbane did not wear his ceremonial cloak. The ruler of Bastion Six wore dented iron plate armor. He looked furious.

"I told that man straight up not to send y’all," Gunther rumbled, his deep voice carrying a heavy, dangerous edge.

"Lord Commander," Aegon began, stepping forward.

"Don’t ’Lord Commander’ me, boy," Gunther snapped, stepping closer. The crushing pressure of his Level 200 aura flared, forcing them back. "I’m starving my own people right now. I ain’t bleed my city dry just so you little fools can come flying up here and get yourselves killed on my wall."

Gunther glared at the six of them. He was a proud, immoveable warlord. He hated accepting help.

Then his aura collapsed.

He looked at the dark bags under Reina’s eyes. He saw the hollow exhaustion in Bram’s face. He was a starving man looking at six teenagers who had not eaten in a week, and they had flown four hundred miles to die for him anyway.

Gunther closed his eyes. He did not thank them. The debt was too heavy for words.

"Vinicius!" Gunther roared over his shoulder.

A young, scarred Vanguard officer jogged out of the command post, saluting sharply.

"Get that dragon down to the underground bays," Gunther ordered the officer. "Then go on and bring me that map."

Gunther turned back to Aegon.

"I ain’t gotta explain the Level 200 threshold to nobody," Gunther said, getting straight to the point. "This my city. This my wall. But y’all six? Y’all a whole strike team. I ain’t finna waste a Crucible Warlord by throwing y’all into some regular infantry line."

Gunther pointed a thick finger at Aegon’s chest.

"I got the gate," Gunther said, leaving no room for debate. "You run your squad. You lead that column. We clear?"

"Clear!" Aegon confirmed, his voice steadying.

Gunther turned and marched back into the command post to prepare the city for a siege.

---

Dusk fell over Bastion Six.

Aegon stood alone on the highest point of the half-rebuilt southern wall. He looked out at the empty, gray horizon. In eight days, thousands of Cultists and a mutated abomination would crest that ridge.

He held the silver communication crystal in his hand. He felt the heavy, suffocating weight of command pressing down on his chest.

He activated the crystal. The blue channel hummed to life.

He wanted to ask Draven what to do. He wanted the masked operative to give him a flawless tactical plan.

Aegon held the crystal to his mouth.

He took a slow breath.

Then he closed the channel without speaking a single word.

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