The radar was silent. The sky was empty. Or at least, that's what the world below believed.
At 50,000 feet, there is no sound but the faint hum of four General Electric F118 engines, buried deep within the dark, jagged belly of the beast. I sat in the cockpit, the emerald glow of the multi-function displays reflecting in my visor. I wasn't flying a plane; I was flying a shadow.
The B-2 Spirit. Two billion dollars of black carbon and secret tech, shaped like a boomerang from a nightmare. In this new world of magic and ancient kings, they called me a "Dark God" appearing from the void.
"Pilot, we are over the Capital City of the Sun Empire," a cold, AI voice whispered in my headset. "Target locked: The Emperor's Palace. Distance: 15 miles."
I looked out of the small, narrow windows. Below, thousands of knights in golden armor were celebrating a victory, unaware that death was hovering right above their heads—invisible to their eyes, invisible to their magic.
"Payload status?" I asked, my voice steady.
"Sixteen B83 nuclear-capable canisters. Swapped for Golden-Infused Mana Bombs as per your command, Sir."
I gripped the release trigger. In this world, gold wasn't just money; it was the ultimate source of power. And I had a bay full of it, converted into pure destruction.
"Open the weapon bays," I commanded.
The massive belly of the Spirit split open. The aerodynamics didn't change; the stealth remained perfect. I wasn't just a pilot anymore. I was the one who brought the rain of gold that would rewrite history.
"Drop."
The black(wing) shivered slightly as the weight left the ship. Below, the sky was about to turn into a sun of liquid gold.