Chronicles Of Two Powers

Chapter 53 - Battle of San Diego Part II

"Oh my god!!"

The scream erupted from her lips, shuddering with fear as she looked up into the moonless night. In the darkening sky above, a giant silhouette loomed, plummeting with breathtaking speed like a nightmare given form.

"Oh my god, no!!"

The words were torn from her throat once more as the figure drew near. It came down with a crash like thunder, striking the earth so that the ground was shaken. She stood frozen in the centre of the road, transfixed by what she saw.

It was enormous, a monstrous creature whose form was grotesquely alien and yet terrifyingly majestic. The mouth blazed sick yellow light, jerking jagged fangs that had an oily shine to them, like molten metal.

"Jesus-Jesus fucking Chri-!”

She screamed in despair but was too late. Her skeletal form was engulfed by the wide, open mouth of the beast as a cascade of hellfire was spewed from the gory mouth. Her shrieking form melted into ash as the blazing inferno ensconced her.

Around her, people ran in terror in all directions. Some dashed into the alleys, looking for shelter. Others forgot to breathe as more of the flying demons dived down, breathing fire in their wake. The night was lost to the sounds of screams and madness as the thin veneer of human security crumbled beneath the tide of flying horrors.

The atmosphere was thick with panic and confusion. The eerie wails of dragons and wyverns overhead mingled with gunfire, creating a nightmarish cacophony that drowned out any hope of clarity. In the distance, a highway bridge blazed in flames, a grim reminder of the chaos rapidly spreading beyond the city limits. Dark plumes of smoke rose from nearby towns, visible even from our position, as civilians fled in a desperate attempt to escape, leaving everything behind.

Some tried to defend themselves, armed with whatever firearms they could scavenge, but they were outmatched. Their sporting rifles did not match the fire-breathing creatures that had turned the sky into a battlefield. The streets had become a graveyard of burning vehicles, their occupants likely caught in the sudden eruption of violence. What the hell was going on? This wasn’t a protest or a riot—it felt like the city was under attack by something far worse.

I stepped out of the police vehicle and pressed my radio. “HQ, I need an emergency vehicle. There’s an 11-71 over on Willow Road.”

Silence. Static crackled faintly in response, but no reply came.

“HQ? HQ?” I repeated, but still, nothing. My grip tightened on the radio as I looked around at the scene unfolding before me. Some of the officers, faces pale with fear, turned to me, waiting for orders.

“Chief,” one of them said, his voice steady but strained, “I don’t think our radios are working. We should move out.”

I glanced at the radio again, realising he was right. This kind of disruption wasn’t normal. Something was interfering with our communication, and if we couldn’t reach HQ, we were alone.

Nodding, I motioned for the group to follow. “We’re heading down Willow Road. Stick together, and stay sharp.”

As we moved, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The city—and perhaps more—was teetering on the edge of something unthinkable. The highway loomed ahead, still standing but eerily empty, save for the rows of abandoned vehicles. The road was illuminated by the flames of dragons, setting everything in their path ablaze.

When we turned a corner near San Ysidro, we came across the dead—locals who hadn’t made it out. Mexicans, Blacks, it didn’t matter. What we saw was too horrific to comprehend. The brutality of these invaders was beyond anything we could fathom.