Manifest Fantasy

Chapter 10: Grenden Forest Ruins

Author's Note (Story and Patreon Updates):

I will release one free extra chapter for both Manifest Fantasy and Summoning America if any of the following milestones are met:
- RoyalRoad: 3,000 followers on Manifest Fantasy (2158/3000)
- Scribblehub: 1,300 followers on Manifest Fantasy (141/1300)
- r/HFY: 600 concurrent readers (based on average upvotes per chapter) (42/600)
- Patreon: $1,000/month creator income milestone (676/1000)

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READ AHEAD: Chapter 11 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd

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Armstrong Base, Grenden Plains

November 22, 2024

Henry yawned, rubbing his eyes. His stride towards the gate had that pre-dawn sluggishness, his gear feeling every bit as cumbersome as it looked. The morning air was cold, pronounced further by the chill of the chainmail against his neck and making him miss the warmth of his bed all the more. His eyes caught the first light of dawn, painting the MRAPs and his waiting team in a soft, surreal glow. He raised his hand to wave at them. "Yo!"

Ron, already by the MRAPs, shot back with a smirk, "Took ya long enough." His breath fogged in the chill, mingling with the steam from his cup. The rest of the team, draped in their pre-mission silence, nodded or grunted in acknowledgment. Kelmithus, standing a little apart, was wrapped in a heavy cloak that seemed to ward off the chill more through magic than fabric. The aesthetic, however, contrasted heavily with a tactical vest, backpack, and helmet he wore in his hat's stead – an Enhanced Combat Helmet straight from Chief Cole's inventory. Beside him stood a younger man, wearing a similar cloak and also clad in the anachronistic American gear.

He introduced himself as Arran, a student of Kelmithus and a 'prodigy' according to the archmage himself. It seemed only he, Kelmithus, and Dr. Anderson were lively, though it made sense given the context of their upcoming mission.

Walking up to his MRAP, Henry gave it a once-over. Dr. Anderson was halfway inside, his bottom half sticking out as he shoved a satchel onto a seat. Yen and Hayes stood next to the other MRAP, giving their equipment some checks. "Alright," Henry called out, "time to run the checklist. Yen, comms?"

"Crystal clear, Captain," Yen replied, tapping his helmet. "Should be all good unless we run into another magic Chernobyl."

Hayes chimed in without looking up from tying his laces, "Ammo's stocked up. MRAPs' been cleaned, too."

Henry gave a nod. He had heard stories of weapons getting jammed due to debris. Better safe than sorry, he thought, appreciating the attention to detail. The last thing they needed was a firearm malfunction in the middle of an engagement with who knows what.

Kelmithus stepped forward. "The core?" he asked simply, eyeing the MRAP.

"Dr. Lamarr was a bit disappointed in having to wait a couple more days, but it's in there, safe and sound," Henry replied, nodding toward the vehicle.

Kelmithus nodded, eyes stuck to the MRAP for a moment longer before he stepped back.

"All set?" Henry asked. Met with nods, he led the way to a nearby tent. "Alright. Let's review."

The tent was rather utilitarian – barren save for the clutter of wires and monitors and basic furniture. An intelligence officer stood by a table in the center, clean-shaven and in his late thirties. The screen beside him showed a map of the Grenden Plains and the adjacent Grenden Forest, obtained via drone reconnaissance. A red circle highlighted the Area of Operation around the ruins.