My Ultimate OP System: Summoning All Dragons, Gods, Heroes & Villains

From the glass, the entire launch yard was visible.

Four armored carriers stood positioned in formation, each holding the weight of a single ballistic missile.

The missiles themselves were long white cylinders, locked firmly into their mounts and angled slightly upward in readiness. Men moved briskly around the platforms, completing the final checks and securing the last of the payload setups before launch.

At the command deck, the operators were already at their stations, fingers moving across coded keypads as they finalized the launch sequence.

Everything was ready.

Audrey said nothing, but then moved her gaze through the angled glass, briefly catching sight of Merlin standing at the launch yard below.

The trickster summon remained positioned directly in front of the four missile carriers, which were parked side by side in formation behind him.

Audrey’s eyes squinted slightly as she caught sight of the last ashes of burning paper drifting from Merlin’s hand.

Something about it felt odd.

But she quickly dismissed the thought, turning her attention away again. It was likely just another of the mage’s preparation spells before the operation began.

What she did not realize was that the burning paper was not a random act of magic.

It was a message.

A spell Merlin had just used to contact Ethan.

An Old Spell, originating from an earlier era of casters, where messages were not spoken into devices.

Instead, the caster whispered the intended words into a blank paper, and the spell itself would etch the message into it. Once completed, the paper had to be burned for the transmission to complete and carry the message across.

For a mage of Merlin’s caliber, the process was effortless.

He simply conjured the paper, whispered the message into it, and conjured flames immediately after; letting the fire consume it and send the warning onward.

The Prime Minister watched from the observation deck, and once it seemed everything was truly set, he turned to the general and said, "Proceed."

The operators immediately responded, flipping switches and turning keys across their stations.

A sequence of confirmations echoed through the chamber.

"Launch sequence initiated."

"Coordinates locked."

"Payload integrity confirmed."

The general glanced toward the Prime Minister. "Awaiting final command, sir."

The Prime Minister did not hesitate. "Fire."

The first ignition came like the sound of thunder. One after another, the missiles surged upward, tearing free from their carriers in blinding bursts of flame and pressure. The ground trembled beneath the force as all four rose into the sky in tight succession, streaking forward and splitting paths almost immediately.

They took different trajectories through the air, each locked onto separate destinations within Gritnia.

And that was when Merlin lifted his hand towards them.

Magic circles and glowing symbols appeared around his palm and right then he cast the spell that began a certain change.

Mid-flight, the color of missiles went from a white exterior to a totally darkened one. The metal itself seemed to shift as all four transformed in perfect sync.

What Merlin had done was not something as simple as changing the color of the missiles.

The structure of the metal had been altered to remove or change anything relating to its origin. In doing so, he erased every signature that could have traced it back; manufacturing patterns, material fingerprints, even the subtle residues left behind by its construction.

The missiles right now bore nothing of any material that had been forged in Vanburgh. They Simply had no origination point.

Now, not only would specialist be able to trace it but even magic would not be able to do it.

There was, however, one further change.

The moment their exteriors fully blackened, all four missiles vanished from sight.

It was as though they had been cloaked, allowing them to pass into Gritnia’s airspace without immediate detection from the country’s military or DSB systems.

——

Right now, Ethan was hovering in the clouds above the heart of Grayforte City.

His rapid flight had allowed him to arrive roughly three minutes before the full ten-minute mark.

The reason he chose this position was because it provided the best vantage point to activate his Supernatural Awareness, a passive skill borrowed from his Angel summon.

The range at which his awareness could extend immediately covered a large portion, if not the entirety, of the city.

He had chosen this method to quickly determine where in Grayforte the missiles were coming from, or whether they had already been moved. But for the last thirty seconds, he came up empty.

However, he still had to be prepared, because the missile strike on those points in Grayforte might not be originating from Grayforte City itself, but from somewhere else entirely.

In that case, his sensory detection would not immediately pick it up, which was exactly why Ethan wasted no time in reinstating the same technique he had used in Qeatol City.

Lightning surged through his body in enormous amounts, so intense that some of it launched out from his mouth as a roaring beam.

The sheer volume of mana being released surged outward in an instant, quickly supercharging the skies and triggering an unnatural thunderstorm that began to darken the city below.

The clouds churned heavily, swollen with power, every inch of them saturated with charge as streaks of lightning grew so dense that they became visible, with people across distant parts of the city beginning to notice them.

The range Ethan had intended to extend the charged energy had, however, not fully completed its spread to properly account for all of Grayforte when his senses suddenly tingled.

His lightning-glowing eyes widened in response.

Four fast-moving projectiles had just entered the sensory range of the awareness skill, and they were moving faster than the extension of the charged storm clouds.

Which meant not every one of the four impact points would be accounted for.

Thankfully, there was no cloaking on them at this time.

That was Merlin’s final adjustment; his last attempt at aiding the situation; by stripping the cloaking once it had been confirmed that the missiles had successfully entered Gritnia without being halted.

One descended toward a crowded market square, where morning trade had only just begun.

Another angled sharply toward a central train station, its platforms already alive with movement and departure.

A third curved toward Leon Square, the heart of the city’s public life.

And the last drove toward the territory of one of the great elf families; the Ainzberns.

In that moment, while they were still airborne, Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly and the storm answered.