Chapter 5 - Dragon's Flight

 Chapter 5 - Dragon's Flight

The black-scaled dragon loomed over the unconscious Professor Albright and the terrified, injured students, its breath hot and rancid as it closed in. Its eyes, glowing with an otherworldly intensity, seemed to consume the fear radiating from the helpless humans beneath it. Time seemed to slow, each moment thick with the weight of inevitable death.

Suddenly, a deafening *whoosh* filled the air, followed by the unmistakable roar of an explosion. A powerful air-to-surface missile slammed into the dragon's side, sending a shockwave that rippled through the jungle. Dust and debris shot into the air as the beast staggered back, momentarily disoriented.

POV: Helicopter Pilot

In the cockpit of the attack helicopter, Captain Myers gripped the controls, adrenaline surging through his veins. "Direct hit!" he shouted to his co-pilot. "Hit it again! Don't give it time to recover!"

Missiles rained down upon the dragon from both his helicopter and another one flying in formation beside him. The sky erupted with explosions as they fired everything they had—rockets, machine gun rounds, and anti-tank missiles—turning the forest clearing into a war zone. But as the dust settled, the pilots saw something that made their blood run cold.

Through the smoke, the dragon's massive form emerged, seemingly untouched. It lifted its head and opened its eyes, glowing brighter than before, with a furious, primal rage. Then, with a sound that felt like the very earth itself cracking apart, the dragon roared at the helicopters. The force of its roar made Captain Myers flinch, his hands trembling on the controls. 

"Pull up! Get higher, NOW!" Myers screamed into the headset as the dragon lunged, its massive body pushing forward, but it couldn't quite reach them due to the altitude.

Breathing hard, Myers took a quick glance at his co-pilot, who was wide-eyed and pale. "We've pissed it off," he muttered.

For a brief moment, it seemed like the helicopters had the upper hand. They had altitude on their side, and the dragon, massive as it was, seemed incapable of keeping up with their aerial maneuvers. Myers watched as the beast tried to leap into the air, but its lumbering body and lack of flight experience kept it grounded.

"We've got it! We've got this thing!" Myers said with a thin layer of hope. His confidence was boosted by the radio chatter from command, confirming that their missile strikes were being monitored from satellite feeds. The hinger-ups were captivated by the sight of humanity's war machines against a mythical creature.

POV: 3rd Person

Back on the ground, Marines found the Professor and the students were evacuated by the reinforcements as the helicopters continued their assault on the dragon. Professor Albright and Emily, both still disoriented from their injuries, were loaded into armored vehicles. The once terrifying scene of helplessness had become a blur of coordinated retreat, with Marines scrambling to get everyone out of danger.

In the sky, the dragon stopped its attempts at flight. Hovering in place, it suddenly stilled, staring upward as if contemplating something. Inside the military base, analysts and CIA agents watched the feed with intense focus. Some assumed the dragon was tiring, that perhaps its raw power had limits. But they were wrong.

In reality, the beast was gathering its strength. Its massive chest swelled as it drew in air, black smoke curling from its nostrils.

"What the hell is it doing?" Myers muttered, watching the creature through his cockpit's targeting systems.

Suddenly, the dragon opened its maw, and a burst of black fire—thick and oily—shot from its jaws. The inferno engulfed one of the helicopters, consuming it instantly in an explosion that rocked the air. The flaming wreckage spiraled downward, a streak of fire crashing into the jungle canopy below.

"Mayday! We're going down!" came the desperate call from the other pilot, but it was already too late.

"Get out of there! Get out!" Myers shouted into his radio as he watched the other chopper burn, helpless.

In the military command center, panic set in. The general overseeing the operation slammed his fist onto the table. "Scramble the jets! We need more firepower! And get those remaining helicopters back to base, now!"

Captain Myers and his remaining wingman received the orders immediately. "We're pulling out!" he said, hands shaking as he yanked on the controls. They turned their helicopters and began the retreat, the dragon's terrifying presence still looming as it pursued them with relentless determination.

But the dragon, despite its massive size and strength, was slower in the air. It had finally taken flight, its enormous wings beating the sky like thunder, but it was clear that this was not a creature built for speed. As it slowly gained height, the helicopters managed to pull ahead, dodging through the air with practiced precision.

Then, with a high-pitched scream, jet fighters streaked across the horizon. A squadron of F-22 Raptors, sleek and deadly, bore down on the dragon from the distance. Missiles fired from their underbellies, streaking toward the beast with deadly accuracy.

The first missile hit the dragon square in the chest, causing it to reel back mid-flight. A second missile struck its side, and then a third, followed by an explosion of machine-gun fire from the jets as they circled around for another pass. The dragon roared in fury, its body convulsing as the missiles slammed into it one after another.

For a moment, it seemed as if the beast would fall from the sky, its colossal form curling into itself as it was pelted by bombs and machine gun rounds. The ground trembled with each hit, and the jungle floor below became a cratered wasteland of smoke and fire.

After two minutes of relentless bombing runs and gunfire, the jets pulled back, circling overhead as the dust settled. All eyes were on the scene, hoping that the creature had finally been brought down.

As the smoke cleared, the dragon was revealed, curled up on the ground. At first, it seemed as though it had been defeated. But the sight that greeted them sent a chill through the air.

The dragon uncoiled itself slowly, shaking off the debris as though it were nothing more than an inconvenience. Its obsidian-black scales gleamed in the dimming light, and though a few scales had fallen away, exposing raw flesh beneath, the damage was minimal. The creature's eyes burned with renewed fury.

In the command center, the general watched the satellite feed in stunned silence. "That… that thing is still alive," he muttered, sinking into his chair. His hand came up to his forehead as he glared at the CIA agent standing beside him.

"What the hell did you people bring upon us?" he asked, his voice cold and laced with barely contained anger. The agent, visibly sweating, remained silent, unable to offer an answer.

Outside, on the battlefield, the dragon spread its wings again, lifting itself into the sky with a grace that belied its size. This time, it flew off in the opposite direction, its massive form vanishing into the distance at a surprisingly fast pace.

For the moment, they had survived. But the knowledge that they had merely angered a creature of such power weighed heavily on them all. The fight was far from over.

The sterile smell of the hospital lingered in the air as the CIA agent sat down with the professor and the surviving students, their faces pale and haunted by the trauma they'd just endured. The agent's expression was one of forced sympathy as he leaned forward, hands folded.

"I'm deeply sorry for what happened out there," he began, his voice low and steady. "But we need to ask for your cooperation. What you've seen... what you've experienced, it cannot be made public. This needs to be kept under wraps, for your safety, for the safety of everyone."

The students, their eyes red and swollen from crying, barely reacted. They just wanted to leave, to go home and put the nightmare behind them. Nodding in unison, they agreed to the agent's request, not out of loyalty, but out of a desperate need to move on.

The agent shifted his gaze to Professor Albright. Something seemed off. The professor sat still, staring ahead, his eyes distant, as if trapped in his own thoughts. His usual sharpness was dulled, and his face held a blankness that unnerved the agent.

"Professor? Are you alright?" the agent asked, leaning in slightly.

Albright blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and finally turned to the agent. "I just want to go home," he said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual energy.

The CIA agent, his suspicions piqued, studied the professor for a moment longer but ultimately shrugged it off. He had too much on his plate to worry about one dazed professor. There was paperwork to handle, debriefings to prepare for, and the monumental task of explaining this entire covert operation—an operation that had taken place without the South African government's knowledge.

As the agent sighed at the thought of the bureaucratic red tape awaiting him, his eyes caught sight of a group of scientists and Marines carefully loading a dragon scale into a transport vehicle. The blackened scale from the fight was enormous, shimmering slightly in the dim light. It was to be sent back to the States for further analysis—a grim reminder of the day's events.

Once cleared by the doctors, Professor Albright and the students were allowed to return home. The long flight back to the States was quiet, the students too exhausted to talk, while the professor remained deep in thought. For a few days after his return, Albright managed to resume his life. He answered emails, prepared lectures, and kept up appearances. But something had changed.

After five days, the professor finally began to relax. The constant feeling of being watched had started to fade, though he knew the CIA had eyes on him. They always did, especially after an operation like that. But Albright had planned for this. He knew how to wait.

Late one night, in the quiet of his small study, Albright sat at his desk with a glass of whiskey in hand. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the background. He stared at the glass, his eyes suddenly becoming blank. Then, with deliberate precision, he stood and walked to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Albright bent over the sink, his stomach heaving as he stuck his finger down his throat. After a few retches, he vomited. Among the bile and liquid, something small and carefully wrapped appeared—a tiny plastic baggie.

Inside it was a micro-USB drive, one he'd swallowed during the chaos in South Africa. A grim smile spread across his face as he picked it up, wiping it clean before heading back to his study.

He plugged the drive into his computer, and after a few moments, the files loaded. A video appeared, footage a hand held camera, showing the entire encounter with the dragon. The beast, the destruction, the carnage—it was all there, unfiltered and raw.

Albright leaned back in his chair, watching the video as a cold satisfaction settled over him. This was the first step in a much larger plan. With a click of his mouse, he uploaded the footage to YouTube on the internet. 

As he watched the progress bar fill, after its filled he close the browser and cleared all evidence of his uploading. Then his eyes cleared up, and he was confused why he is in his office but ultimately shrugged it off and went off to bed. 

Somewhere in The South Atlantic Ocean

Far out in the Atlantic Ocean, beneath the endless blue sky, a massive shadow flew low over the waves, its form undulating with the rhythm of the wind. The dragon's wings cut through the air, but its eyes were closed, as if in deep thought or concentration. Suddenly, without warning, it dove toward the water, plummeting headfirst into the depths with a graceful ease that defied its size.

Beneath the surface, the dragon began to change. Its massive, obsidian-black scales shimmered and shifted, morphing as the water around it churned. The mighty beast's form shrank, limbs retracting, the wings folding into its body, and within moments, the dragon was gone. In its place stood a man, tall and imposing, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a plan perfectly executed.

It was Adam.

Rising from the ocean floor, he ascended to the surface, his feet touching the waves as though they were solid ground. With a smile playing on his lips, Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, smooth stone. He crushed it in his hand with a quick snap, and in an instant, the ocean around him disappeared, replaced by the familiar sight of vast green fields stretching as far as the eye could see.

As the teleportation finished, Adam let out a deep breath. He stood in the middle of a wide, open meadow, the soft breeze brushing against his skin. A serene calm filled the air, but the smile on Adam's face was anything but peaceful. It was one of cold triumph.

Then, a familiar chime echoed in his mind—the system, his guiding force, his ally in this twisted game. 

"I assume everything went well?" the voice of the system inquired, emotionless yet all-knowing.

Adam's grin widened. "Of course. Now humanity is on the board. The game has officially begun."

He glanced down at his hand, where remnants of the crushed stone had dissolved into nothingness. He could still feel the power of the teleportation spell tingling at his fingertips, a token from the system's vast shop of abilities. But that was only the beginning. The real prize was what he had just set into motion.

"With the professor under my control, he has already uploaded the existence of the supernatural," Adam mused aloud. His voice held a tinge of amusement. 

Controlling the professor had been easy enough. Adam had spent precisely 1,000 points from the system's shop, purchasing the mind control ability with no hesitation. Another 1,000 points had been used to acquire acting skills, enabling the professor to keep up appearances. Lastly, hacking skills had been procured, allowing Adam to ensure the video's swift distribution across every corner of the internet. It was a perfect, silent infiltration.

And now, with the system pinging in his mind, Adam knew the plan had worked.

"Congratulations, user,"* the system announced, its cold, mechanical voice filling his mind. *"You have received your first worship."

The words sent a shiver of satisfaction down Adam's spine. *Worship.* The very concept filled him with an intoxicating thrill. It wasn't about fame or recognition—no, it was about power. Influence. Control over the minds of billions.

The video of the dragon—the creature he had so carefully crafted and controlled—was now spreading like wildfire across the globe. People would see it. They would question it. They would believe in it. And through that belief, through their fear, their awe, Adam would grow stronger.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered, the words carried off by the wind. "Soon, they'll know that reality isn't as simple as they thought."

As the system pinged again, confirming the ever-growing reach of the video, Adam turned his gaze to the horizon. There was still much to be done. This world was ripe for manipulation, and he had barely begun to scratch the surface.

The game had started, and Adam is the game master.