I Was Summoned as the Weakest Hero, But I Awakened a Military System

”Survivors breaking through the blast cloud!” Ritcher shouted, leaning firmly into the stock of his rifle. ”Inbound, two hundred yards!”

The surviving wyverns, over a hundred strong, dove through the lingering black smoke with ferocious, high-pitched shrieks, tucking their leathery wings tight as they plummeted toward the settlement like an avalanche of razor-sharp scales and talons.

”Ground forces, open fire!” John barked.

He raised his FN SCAR-H, settled the holographic reticle directly onto the lead beast’s center mass, and squeezed the trigger. The heavy 7.62x51mm battle rifle roared with a deep, authoritative thud, its violent recoil smoothly absorbed by his trained stance. The heavy rounds punched clean through the wyvern’s thick chest scales, sending the beast tumbling out of the sky in a spray of dark blood.

Along the perimeter, the infantrymen opened up in crisp unison with their M4A1 carbines. Rhythmic three-round bursts of 5.56mm sliced through the air, their lighter, high-velocity rounds targeting wing joints, eyes, and exposed necks. Beside them, beastkin hunters let loose heavy war arrows with guttural battle cries, fighting fiercely alongside the human soldiers.

Standing directly beside John, Elenore was an absolute blur of lethal grace.

She pulled an arrow from her quiver, drew the bowstring smoothly to her cheek, and released in one continuous, fluid breath.

Twang!

The shaft whistled through the air and drilled directly into the open eye of a diving flyer. The monster screeched, lost its aerodynamic lift, and slammed violently into the dirt berm, kicking up a shower of gravel.

Without breaking rhythm, Elenore drew, aimed, and fired in rapid succession.

Twang! Twang! Twang!

Every single release found a critical weak point. One arrow punched through the thin, fibrous membrane of a wyvern’s left wing, sending it into an uncontrollable flat spin that smashed into the timber stands. Another struck cleanly beneath a monster’s jaw just as it unhinged its maw to spit boiling venom. In less than ten seconds, four beasts crashed short of the perimeter line by her hand alone.

”Damn good shooting, Elenore!” Ritcher shouted over the thunder of gunfire, sending a tight burst into the skull of a grounded reptile attempting to snap at the barrier.

System notifications chimed rapidly in John’s peripheral vision as the combined fire of heavy battle rifles, carbines, and enchanted archery methodically decimated the remaining swarm.

[You have killed 1x Cragspine Wyvern!]

[You received: 3,000 System Points & 2 Souls!]

[You have killed 1x Cragspine Wyvern!]

[You received: 3,000 System Points & 2 Souls!]

A satisfied smirk crossed John’s face as he dropped the empty magazine from his SCAR-H, slapped a fresh 20-round box into the magwell, and racked the bolt.

”Keep firing!” John commanded, lining up another shot. ”Don’t let a single one leave this valley!”

”Eagle Actual, this is Miller,” Captain Miller’s calm voice cut through the gunfire in John’s earpiece once more. ”SPY-6 radar has painted the second wave clustering over the eastern ridge. Ripple-firing VLS cells four through twelve now. Clear the sky above grid zero-eight.”

”Copy that. Send it,” John replied over the radio, squeezing off three precise shots from his SCAR-H that collapsed another diving beast mid-glide.

Miles out in the coastal bay, the forward missile deck of the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer erupted in a continuous, deafening roar.

Dozens of vertical launch hatches snapped open, expelling a relentless stream of fire and smoke into the morning sky. Another salvo of RIM-162 Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles and SM-2 interceptors bolted into the atmosphere, leaving thick white trails that arced sharply over the coastline before leveling out into a blistering Mach 4 sprint.

The beastkin warriors instinctively ducked behind the Hesco barriers, ears flattened against the thunderous sonic booms rolling overhead.

High above the northern canopy, the remaining clusters of wyverns attempted to scatter, but modern radar guidance gave them no quarter. The missiles closed the distance in seconds, their proximity warheads detonating in a rolling symphony of high-explosive fury.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Shockwaves ripped through the sky, tearing the remaining swarm to ribbons. Flashes of brilliant orange and gray smoke consumed dozens of creatures at once, raining down shredded wings, charred scales, and lifeless carcasses across the rocky slopes.

John’s system HUD went into absolute overdrive, scrolling with a blinding cascade of golden text:

[You have killed 114 Wyverns!]

[You received: 342,000 System Points & 228 Souls!]

[Total Accumulated Balance:]

System Points: 1,132,550 SP & 1,553 Souls

The overwhelming roar in the sky began to thin out, replaced by the crackling of burning foliage on the distant ridge and the occasional crack of an M4 rifle mopping up wounded beasts on the ground.

Lyra slowly rose from behind the sandbags, looking up at the smoke-filled horizon in absolute silence, her amber eyes wide with disbelief.

”They... they brought down a nesting horde in moments,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. ”With their powerful magic arrows...”

Her gaze slowly drifted away from the burning ridge and settled on John.

He was standing firmly in front of the defensive line, lowering the smoking barrel of his rifle with an air of practiced, unshakable calm. He didn’t look exhausted or panicked by the encounter; instead, he casually tapped the side of his weapon, gave a nod to his men, and checked the status of the perimeter as if swatting an entire nesting swarm of apex predators from the sky was just another routine checklist.

A profound shudder ran down Lyra’s spine, stirring something deep within her beastkin instincts.

If John and his men had not been here, today would have marked the absolute end of the Ironclaw Tribe. Without heavy anti-air ballistas, the survivors would have been torn apart, melted by boiling venom, and fed to the wyvern brood. Her people had been entirely defenseless against a sky-borne disaster of that magnitude.

Yet, this man—the leader of this strange, mighty nation—had stood on the front lines beside them, commanding invisible thunder from miles across the sea and wielding devastating power without hesitation, all to protect her home.

In the brutal culture of the beastkin, strength was revered above all else, but a leader who combined godlike might with fierce loyalty to their allies was something transcendent.

Lyra’s eyes remained locked onto John’s broad shoulders. Her heart hammered against her ribs, not out of lingering terror from the beasts, but from a sudden, intense surge of admiration and attraction. The raw authority he radiated, paired with the calm confidence with which he commanded reality itself, was completely intoxicating.

This man... is the true alpha of a sovereign power, she thought, her breath catching in her throat as her tail curled tightly behind her.

”Perimeter secure,” John announced, his voice snapping her back to reality as he clicked the safety on his SCAR-H and slung it across his chest. He turned around, catching Lyra staring directly at him. ”You alright, Lyra? Any wounded on your side?”

Lyra quickly straightened, feeling an unfamiliar warmth rush her cheeks. She placed a fist firmly over her chest, bowing her head lower and with far deeper reverence than before.

”N-no casualties, Commander,” she said, her voice softer than usual before she caught herself and cleared her throat, looking up at him with fierce, glowing admiration. ”Thanks to you... once again, you have saved my people from total annihilation. The Ironclaw Tribe owes you a debt we may never be able to repay.”

John flashed her an easy, reassuring grin. ”Like I said before, we’re allies now. We protect our own.”

”Yes...and I’m sorry if we can’t be of assistance in the battle, as we are not really capable of fighting an airborne monster.”

”It’s fine, let us handle them,” John said as he looked to the sky once more. ”Hey, where do they come from again?”

”From the Craigspine Range, why do you ask?”

”Well, there might be more of them there, and they might come back again in the future. I intend to clear out that threat.”