That Time an American was Reincarnated into Another World

July 4th, 626

I ignored the turbulence in the plane and looked to my side, at Feiden. He sat in the chair next to me, wearing a custom operator variant armor, the best Sawn Industries could design and enchant, his helmet off and on his lap. 

There was a hint of his Invocation around his neck. As for the Crown, the cosmetic changes were subtle, already golden hair now shimmering and giving him larger muscle mass, not quite all encompassing like it had for Umara. His had been almost equally as invasive though. 

I poked his thigh. 

“You’ve got some great legs. Have I ever told you that?”

Feiden slowly turned to face me, his face neutral, lips drawing a thin flat line. 

“...No.”

“Well they are.”

He didn’t respond, turning his head back, silence prevailing for some time as I slowly moved my hand over his armored thigh. 

His gaze remained forward as I leaned in a bit and whispered. 

“Wanna shower together when we get back?”

“You have an actual fiance.”

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“She’s looking at us.”

“I know. Makes it exciting.”

“...”

Feiden went silent again before shifting away, spilling over into Jaya’s seat. She happily welcomed him with a hug, pulling him close in a snuggle. 

He muttered in resignation. 

“Lesser of two evils…”

“Who are you calling evil?”

“Who are you calling lesser?”

Jaya and I both scrutinized him before I got pulled the other way by Umara. 

She grabbed my chin and made me face her. 

“How come you don’t compliment my legs?”

“I mean… have you seen his quads?”

“Have you?”

“Among other things. We’ve seen all of each other’s special places.”

“Please stop.”

Feiden covered his face and groaned, Jaya cackling. Umara rolled her eyes with a laugh, pushing my face away. 

“No kisses?”

“For all I know you two do that too.”

“3 minutes till drop!”

The copilot’s voice chimed from a speaker, my gaze turning, my Aura already picking up the effects of the battle in the distance. 

I glanced around as a few people put on their helmets, Feiden and Jaya included. 

Most people in 1st Strike Force wore new custom made armor that we developed at Wonderland. There were a few exceptions though. 

Shadowbane was one of them. She wore a suit made from the leather of a Lordbeast, enchanted to Authority 11, courtesy of the deep coffers of the Raven family. It clung tight to her body and was riddled with straps and weapons. 

She specialized in speed, but speed was a form of stealth in itself. After arming her with some of the Adaptive Camouflage I made, she became an unstoppable menace. 

Then there was Tana, sitting in a corner. I could see her normally, but as we had learned over time, nobody else had the same ease. If I had to guess, the reason I could see her fine was because I was from Earth, accustomed to a world without Aura. I didn’t know specifically what that afforded me but the results were undeniable. 

As for the Scourge, we had yet to come across anything that could pick her out. She was only slightly exposed when delivering blows, when she made contact with other living things, but otherwise not even an Authority 10 King Blood could pick her out. She had been quite excited to discover that, and now her efforts were wholly devoted to advancing as fast as possible. 

She was already Authority 8, having advanced a couple months ago. Although she used some custom armor, it wasn’t equipped with Adaptive Camouflage, which would be redundant at best and harmful to her stealth at worst. 

Jaya was loaded with concoctions, all paid for by Sawn Industries. We had also hired some alchemists and built a lab. It was definitely our least developed industry since I knew next to nothing about it, but it wasn’t like it didn’t have any applications so I didn’t mind throwing some money at them to keep Jaya stocked and use their free time to spit out interesting stuff. 

She was in custom armor, enjoying the protection and camo. 

Ponteck Gulliard was also in our armor. He had proven himself to be versatile over the last few months of adapting himself to the level of the team. He was incredibly skilled, able to beat Feiden in technique. The only thing he lacked was any particularly extreme ability, like Feiden with his spatial warping, Shadowbane with her Speed, or Tana with her stealth. Nonetheless, he was adaptable and, despite being Authority 8, was able to pick fights with Authority 9s confidently. 

He also had an incredible weapon, a pure gold sword dense with heavy enchantments that made it oddly ethereal, an heirloom given to him by his family. Seeing that, I made sure to tell my Seed programs to seek out his family and dig up information. I wondered what they were hiding. 

Then there was Blackblood, older than Shadowbane and also one of Ironheart’s grandchildren. He was an Authority 9 knight, a large man only an inch shorter than me who looked tough as nails with unkempt scruff, buzzed hair, and dark brown eyes. His temper was a bit of an issue and he wasn’t buddies with everyone on the team, but he did his job and he did it well. He could take on Behemoths by himself, his weapon of choice being a flanged mace. He was incredibly strong and he had an odd ability to turn all his strikes into concussive blows. I’ve seen 50 foot tall monsters explode into showers of gore from one of his strikes. It was quite intriguing, and reminded me of a certain someone back at the Tavera Family. 

The other new addition to the team was someone from Talexia’s circle. Ilinca Talerria was Umara’s cousin and 8 years her senior. She was Authority 9 and specialized in healing. She was a combat healer at Stronghold Beta, a special operator under Gurns. Her contract had been pricey. 

But she was worth it. I’ve seen her in action and she has a good head on her shoulders as well as the combat prowess to complement it. She has some light spatial spells under her belt, her air element being enlightened, as well as her unenlightened but developed fire and water affinities. She and Umara frequently spoke about magic since they had the same exact elemental paths, Ilinca teaching her about some healing magic, which Umara was still beginning to learn. They were also good friends, so that was a major plus. 

This team was incredibly powerful. Diverse, adaptable, independent yet collectively more than the sum of its parts. We had more to work on regarding teamwork but that would come in time as I got more opportunities to step into battle. 

Plus, the team wasn’t actually full yet. There were supposed to be two others coming from the Church in the coming month, Anderson having personally asked me to bring them in. They were from the Korpela Peerage and were apparently more than powerful enough to be a part of my team. 

I didn’t doubt their power, but I wondered why he wanted them specifically to join my team. If they were powerful, they no doubt had experience. Perhaps he just wanted them to learn, to surveil. 

Whatever it was, I had no reason to turn them down. It wasn’t everyday that Anderson personally asked for something. 

“Red light!”

I saw the large red light around the drop hatch turn on. We were around the drop zone. 

Everyone got up, helmets on, lining up and adjusting their gear. 

On everyone’s backs were metal packs. I smiled when I saw them. We had only made a few of these and they were still being perfected, but even these prototype models were exceptional, though more importantly, reliably functional. 

I got excited, equipping my own, the harness clamping down over my chest and around my thighs after I strapped everything into place. 

After that I brought out my own high altitude oxygen mask and helmet, strapping them on and feeling the seal break, fresh air flowing from a small oxygen tank that I secured to the harness on my chest. 

I then walked to the front and slammed a large button, the back hatch of the plane lowering to reveal the planet 30 thousand feet below us. The air depressurized a bit, fluttering my clothes. 

I took a longer glance down, seeing the active battle despite being so high up. In the distance I could see the mountain range where the ruins of Stronghold Charlie were as well as the Gargantuan Intestine snaking its way through. 

I took a deep breath before turning back to the others, my words carrying through my earpiece and into the helmets of the others. 

“We go for chaos. Don’t bother with regrouping. Test fire on the way down, signal any malfunctions.”

“And if we get a malfunction?”

Blackblood’s voice came back. I shrugged. 

“Say a quick prayer.”

“What about the emergency chute?”

“That’s an option too. Whatever tickles your fancy.”

“Fuckin dick.”

The green light came on after that, my steps taking me to front and center. 

Umara stepped up to my side, nodding at me with her Witch hat on and no mask. She could easily isolate the atmosphere around her, eliminate wind resistance and keep the hat on her head. Even now I could see the field around her working. 

With a quick movement I sidestepped and tackled her, the two of us flying out of the plane. 

“JOHN!”

“Hahaha!”

I cackled as we plummeted, taking a few seconds before pushing myself away from her, activating my backpack. 

My Jetpack Mark 3. 

Air enchantments created a small field around me that eliminated wind resistance, massively increasing my acceleration. 

On the way down I test fired the jetpack, getting good flow, all systems green. I also didn’t get any signals from others so it looked like we would all survive this jump. 

The ground rapidly approached, my speedometer quickly hitting 160 miles an hour and continuing to rise. 

At some point I killed the field, the wind slamming into me and bleeding my speed. Once I hit terminal velocity I activated the decelerator, the jetpack activating and air braking with some more magic, specially designed by Umara. 

Then the ground came, the jetpack firing behind my head and helping me reorient feet down. Then I tucked my knees a bit, the jetpack firing downward, using air magic to stabilize so I didn’t flip head over ass uncontrollably. 

I rapidly slowed, firing the jetpack and letting it lower me to the ground. It was a bit rough, but I didn’t have to tumble when my boots finally planted. 

Umara landed not far from me, the others landing within a hundred yards or so, nobody turning into a bloody pancake on the dirt. 

I nodded, sending my mask and helmet back to my inner dimension, sending the jetpack back to my pocket space. 

Then I looked up at the hordes in front of us, seeing their backs, 1st Brigade on the other side. 

A perfect insertion behind our enemies, Royals only a quarter mile away, hiding in the backlines. 

How convenient. 

I nodded to the others, all of them helmeted, weapons ready. An AT4 appeared in my arms, a smile on my face. 

The desert around us was hot and dry, bearing down on my coat, but it was a welcome change from the normal snowy hellscapes I’d been dealing with for too long. 

More importantly, the land was mostly flat all around us. No hills to break line of sight, no mountains and forests to sneak around in. 

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. 

I picked a target, taking a step foward. The others took that as the signal to run towards the enemy. It was weapons free, no rules of engagement. 

I laughed a bit. 

“This is gonna be fun.”

……

…

“Get another fucking shell on that Bombardo! It’s the last one”

“SHOT OUT!”

“General Darragh, they’re dropping!”

It was one scream after another, General Darragh turning to one of the other summoners in the command tank. He ignored the autoloader screeching and yelled. 

“What?!”

“We got friendly tags dropping behind enemy lines!”

“Fucking who?!”

“Unknown! They aren’t spitting out names so chances are it’s a Drop Shock Team!”

“What do you mean, no names?!”

Darragh leaned down and pulled over the screen the agent was looking at, seeing a camera feed of the enemy lines. In the back were some friendly tags, definitely marked blue, but glitching, the callsigns on the tags refusing to show. 

Like the system was broken. 

He scowled. 

“That’s not just a Drop Shock Team, that’s the fucking Commander!”

“It is?”

“His Callsign is the only one these systems refuse to spell out! Call off the artillery on that grid square! I don’t know what that psycho is trying to do but I don’t need to be blamed for killing him!”

“Yes sir!”

The Commander turned his eyes back to the viewport, suddenly squinting when there was a flash. 

In the distance he saw a lance of bright light reach into the sky, touching heaven before collapsing back to the ground and detonating. It was like a hundred thermobaric shells went off, a massive plume of blue fire erupting into the air. 

He could see the shockwave blast travel through the air, shaking the dust across the battlefield before it slammed into them. He covered his ears when the noise hit the tank’s speakers, making them scream for a second before automatically dampening. 

“Fuck!! Bunch of fucking monsters on that team!”

“Was that the Witch?!”

“Yes! Now focus on the battle! Royal signatures on the right!”

“SHOT OUT!”

Another scream, another shell, another explosion. General Darragh continued to battle, coordinating artillery, air support, and the broader formations of his troops even as those in his command tank slung shells from the singular main gun as fast as they could. 

Timed shells were the favorite at the moment. Smaller targets were harder to hit and driving shells into the ground was a waste oftentimes. But with high explosive timed shells, one could detonate the shells in the middle of large groups of enemies, making the most of the blast yield as a normal warlock area spell would. 

The only issue was that every shell timer took adjustment and coordination between the sighter and the man on the firing lever. Thankfully summoners were smart. Given practice, they could queue the code for a shell as the shell was being loaded, the code loading once it was locked in the breech, only firing after the green light was given. 

Darragh saw the most recently fired shell out of his tank detonate about 240 meters ahead, obliterating the monsters in the blast radius amounting to around 50 of them. Compared to the thousands flooding toward them it seemed like nothing, a small hole in the formation that was rapidly filled. 

But there were several hundred other tanks around Darragh, all of them with two main guns instead of one, firing as fast as they could, all with the help of air support and the turrets that riddled their chassis. Not to mention the thousand free warlocks and knights that killed anything that got too close and personal. 

The sheer amount of firepower going out was astronomical. General Darragh had seen a lot in his life, had personally seen the spells of Marshals and Brigadiers wiping out thousands by themselves. 

But this was on another level. It took coordination, it took unfathomable resources and industry, but it could be wielded by weak summoners like them and most importantly, kept them safe. 

No longer were large numbers of Chiefs and Brigadiers needed to eradicate armies like these. No longer did he have to read about double digit mortality and attrition rates. 

He had yet to even see even double digit casualty numbers thus far. 

“Shield Blow detected! One of our tanks is hunkering! They’re being swarmed!”

“Get fire on them! Adjust sectors and give them some relief!”

Darragh gave his commands, screens around him giving an overview of the battlefield. The M394 Superheavy Command Tank was a mobile command center, John Cooper demanding that the commanders be in the field with their troops, even during combat. Darragh was still learning to cope with the stress while also coordinating troops on the fly in such an environment, but he was learning. More importantly, he could begrudgingly admit that it provided a new perspective, a valuable perspective that changed the way he led his troops. 

He also realized why John Cooper had so vehemently ingrained the doctrine of a decentralized command structure. In chaos like this, micromanaging was impossible. Command fell apart upon contact with the enemy, and everyone wanted to do whatever they needed to kill the enemy and ensure their safety. His orders in such situations were ignored at best. 

But if everyone knew what the doctrine was, they would adapt accordingly themselves. At that point, Darragh’s job as a Field General wasn’t to simply give orders, but to give information. He had to prevent his troops from getting tunnel vision, had to guide the efforts of each tank captain in a broader sense. 

Such as now. When one of his tanks blew their shields and started getting swarmed by monsters, he redirected firing sectors in order to drive back the hordes that had gotten too close and passed information to the surrounding tank captains so that they could command their turrets to fire upon the tank and wipe off the monsters upon it. All while making sure the other surrounding tank captains didn’t overcompensate and redirect too much fire from other areas.

Yes, friendly fire was in their protocols, and unfortunately it had to be utilized often enough to be familiar with it. Yet, many tank captains and gunners had no qualms with turning their double barrel high explosive turrets toward their friends. Some were even eager, as if it were funny. 

Thankfully the armor was more than capable enough to take a constant barrage from the auxiliary turrets and come out with mere scorch marks. 

His dedicated aerial camera, afforded to him by a recon plane 40 thousand feet above his head, adjusted to give him a direct live view of the tank. He watched as the two tanks to their flanks used their turrets to purge the monsters climbing atop it. Knights and warlocks in light armor or on their feet moved forward to slaughter the surrounding monsters. The victim tank, after the fire and smoke cleared, was relatively unmarred. It pulled back to allow its shields to recharge, another M300 moving forward to take its place, complimented by five M220 Light Battle Tanks, 80 ton class.

The battle lines spanned over a mile, layers of other tanks, vehicles, and support troops to their backs. Sometimes they came to a stop, sometimes they merely inched up, but for every foot of ground they gained, the Scourge lost thousands. 

Darragh’s entire body was tense as he watched the screen. The Scourge would make pushes, high Authority combatants forcing their minions to charge, their terrible powers behind them. It would overwhelm a couple tanks, and for a moment they would be sitting ducks, simply taking a beating. 

But the turrets never stopped firing. The main guns never stopped exploding. They continued to dish out hate without any concern for how much money they were burning with every shot. 

And the armor held. The Brigadiers made sure the highest Authority enemies couldn’t simply flatten the tanks, and so long as that standard was held, the tanks could do their work no matter how many hundreds of monsters swarmed them.

It just barely brought him relief to see the tanks back out after being piled on, fire from other light tanks purging the monsters, the tank still functional and the people inside still alive. 

Then he saw the chaos in the distance. He directed the camera over as he saw thousands of monsters turn around, facing away from the tanks at the behest of their controllers. 

He shifted the camera enough to see the monsters’ backline. There he saw a few figures, massive power erupting from their bodies. 

One warlock, slinging so much sharp fire that each spell did just as much devastation as a 5 inch shell from a main gun, except without the inaccuracies or wasted energy. 

A knight wielding a mace jumping around and flattening Royals, breaking through their defenses with sheer brute force. Their armor would shatter as they mounted defenses, none able to take too many hits before his concussive power made contact with their fleshy bodies and exploded. 

Another warlock, simply standing there, casting an occasional spell without much of a care. She didn’t look like she was being surrounded by hundreds of monsters. 

That was because of the Commander. 

Wearing nothing but his black coat, combat pants, and boots, he hefted his glowing red gun and unleashed carnage upon all that approached. It didn’t matter if hundreds or thousands tried to charge at him. They were cut down all the same, and anything he couldn’t handle, like a Royal or Brigadier Class, were either handled by his team or simply evaded. 

Darragh knew there were more people on that team than he could see. He saw Royals in other places locked in battle with an invisible opponent, those battles often ending in seconds before the source of their death moved on to another, unseen and undetected by any of their sensors. 

What scared Darragh though was the fact that the Commander was actually on their level. Darragh was an Authority 8 Cold Summoner himself, had worked his whole life just to barely reach that level, and yet doing what the Commander did wasn’t fathomable to him. 

No summoner should be capable of such devastation while also reaching such heights of intelligence. It wasn’t natural. 

He didn’t call the Commander a psycho for no reason. 

The monsters were cut down from behind, the Commander’s team wreaking devastation upon the Royals and high Authority monsters that dared to hide behind their thousands of minions. Oftentimes, the end of the battle was the hardest part because of that. But with them here taking care of that problem, wielding the precision might of an entire Division, the battle would end twice as quickly. 

Knowing that their pincer attack was already affecting the battle at large, Darragh changed tactics and sent his directions to other Captains. 

“All forces, encircle the enemy! Surround them! Drown them in fire as the Commander slaughters their leaders from the backline!”

Tanks screamed as the orders were followed. Treads started shifting in the dirt, hundreds of tons of metal jolting forward as the main guns fired even faster, renewed energy in the knights who operated the breeches. The battle lines moved, monsters torn between charging the metal and retreating to help their leaders. 

They were all cut down while making their decisions, bolts of fire from turrets raining down upon them by the hundred even as explosions tore holes in the middle of their hordes. Any large targets had long been felled. As the saying went, the tallest nail got the hammer. 

Bombardos were rended into piles of poisonous flesh, behemoths were scattered into chunks of hard bioarmor and blood. The Royals were being annihilated by a precision strike force and that left their thousands of minions in the middle with no way out. 

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It was an extermination. 

General Darragh finally smiled. For the first time in his life, he watched as the Scourge ran from them, scattered like rats and screamed in fear, clawing for their own survival instead of lunging toward them in mutual destruction. 

His smile turned to a mad grin as he pushed the lines, drowning them in purifying fire, death and destruction manufactured and paid for by the endless coffers of Sawn Industries. 

Burning money for the death of their enemies. He was starting to realize why John Cooper had been so confident all this time. With this kind of technology, and with the kind of industry behind it, they really could face off against the Scourge by themselves. 

They were exterminating an army of over 50 thousand like they were bugs and not demons from hell. 

“Yes! YES! THIS IS REAL WARFARE! CHARGE!”

He screamed, driving the Command Tank to the front of the formation, his troops following with kilotons of armor and annihilation. 

His grin didn’t fade, only widened as he crushed monsters under his treads and cackled in oppressive glee.