The Arrival at the Dwarven Kingdom

It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and Vincent's team, consisting of fifteen soldiers led by Marcus, gathered near the airfield. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the fortress. Three Blackhawk helicopters sat on the runway, their rotors already spinning slowly in preparation for departure, while two Apache helicopters hovered nearby, ready to provide aerial support.

Vincent stood near the lead Blackhawk, checking over the tactical gear strapped to his body. His mind was focused, running through the mission objectives once again. This wasn't going to be a routine operation—negotiating with the dwarves was unpredictable, and the added threat of demon forces adapting to human technology only made the mission more urgent.

Marcus approached Vincent, his expression serious. "The team's ready, sir. We've loaded the supplies, and everyone's briefed on the mission details. Are we expecting any resistance along the way?"