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?"
