Data & Magic Chapter 107: Above the Battle

High above the unseen forest floor, a different kind of battle was being waged, one against gravity, precarious footing, and William’s own protesting muscles. He clung to a massive, moss-slick branch, heart hammering against his ribs, trying desperately to emulate the impossible grace of the elves moving ahead. Below, the sounds of the main conflict, the guttural roars of goblins, the sharp clang of steel, the occasional concussive whump of magic, drifted up, a terrifying reminder of the stakes and the reason for this insane, canopy detour.

Current User Status: Elevated, Exposed, Extremely Anxious, William’s internal monologue supplied helpfully. Recommend deep breathing. Also recommend developing wings. Or perhaps just staying on the ground next time.

He risked a glance down through the dense layers of leaves. He couldn’t see the stream bed clearly, only flashes of movement, the distant flicker of Thalorin’s command post. They were moving parallel to the main battle line, but significantly faster, bypassing the chaos, just as EMMA had predicted. He pushed a trickle of mana into the system, overlaying the projected route. MP: 102/165. Route confirmation active. Target vector: Shaman - Estimated distance: 450 meters.

Initially, he’d tried feeding EMMA’s precise pathfinding data to Rynarion via quick, whispered translations of the system's output (“Next branch, 3 meters up, slight left, stability rating B+...”). Rynarion had listened patiently for the first two transitions, then simply flowed onwards with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Linwe and Faelar following suit without needing the clumsy human commentary. William quickly realized the redundancy. Right. Elves possess innate 'Optimal Branch Navigation' skill. My detailed turn-by-turn directions are like trying to explain basic arithmetic to a quantum physicist. Pointless. He switched EMMA’s focus from route finding to personal survival assistance, highlighting stable handholds, calculating jump distances relative to his capabilities, monitoring branch integrity.

Linwe and Faelar, the two archers leading the way, were breathtaking to watch. They moved with a speed and certainty that defied the treacherous environment. A leap across a dizzying gap to a swaying neighbouring branch. A controlled swing using a thick, dangling vine. A near-vertical scramble up a trunk using holds William couldn’t even see. They flowed through the canopy like extensions of the forest itself, silent, efficient, deadly. Elara, the mage, followed with less acrobatic flair but equal confidence, occasionally using subtle bursts of air magic to steady a landing or bridge a slightly-too-wide gap for herself and, pointedly, for William struggling behind her.

William, even with his Agility boosted to 29, felt like a draft horse trying to keep pace with gazelles. Every jump jarred his bones, every landing felt precarious. The enchanted Wyvern armour, blessedly light on the ground, felt cumbersome here, catching on twigs, restricting his already limited flexibility. He slipped constantly on mossy bark, his hands raw from gripping rough wood, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He remembered EMMA’s earlier scan estimating Rynarion’s Agility at 85, the patrols’ at 75. My 29 is barely entry-level compared to their baseline. It's like bringing a simple calculator to a supercomputing convention. He deliberately avoided tasking EMMA to estimate Elara’s Agility. Some data points were simply better left unknown for morale purposes.

They reached a point directly above the ravine where the stream flowed, the sounds of battle clearer now, closer. Ahead lay the most challenging obstacle yet. A wide gap, perhaps fifteen feet, separated their current massive branch from the next viable platform on a neighbouring giant. Below the gap, a sheer drop to the rocky stream bed eighty feet down. Worse, the target branch was higher. The elven solution, already being executed by Linwe and Faelar, involved a terrifying sequence. A short run along their current branch, a jump down onto a lower, springy limb, using its recoil to launch upwards and diagonally, grabbing onto thick, hanging vines like ancient ropes, and using those to swing across and upwards to the target platform. It was pure tree parkour.

He watched Faelar flow through it, a precise launch onto the lower limb that bent deeply under the impact, the stored energy releasing to propel the elf upwards in a twisting leap, catching a thick vine mid-air with effortless grace before swinging easily onto the higher platform. It was less a jump, more controlled flight. Faelar executed it flawlessly, followed by Linwe. Then Elara, aided by a pulse of levitation, made the crossing look only moderately terrifying. Then, it was his turn.

He stared at the sequence. The run, the jump down, the spring up, the vine grab, the swing across. His mind froze. He activated EMMA, already knowing the answer. MP: 100/165. Calculate success probability: Jump Sequence Alpha. The result flashed instantly: Probability: 0.00%. Projected Outcome: Uncontrolled descent, high-velocity impact with ravine floor. Certainty: 99.99%.

Well, that confirms it, he thought bleakly. My parkour skills are statistically non-existent. He was rooted to the spot, staring at the impossible gap, the sounds of battle fading as sheer, paralysing certainty washed over him. He couldn't make it. This was where the F-Rank analyst hit his hardcoded limit. He saw Elara glance back, her brow furrowed slightly, perhaps preparing another subtle levitation assist, but knowing it likely wouldn't be enough for this gap...”

He didn't hear Rynarion approach from behind, the Warden moving with his usual unnerving silence. He only registered the presence when a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder. William flinched, turning, expecting a curt order to stay behind, to admit defeat.

Rynarion said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a flicker of understanding, perhaps even sympathy. He’d clearly seen William’s struggles, anticipated this bottleneck. Without a word, the Warden acted.

One powerful arm wrapped around William’s waist, lifting him clear off the branch as easily as hoisting a sack of potatoes. William yelped, startled, finding himself tucked unceremoniously under Rynarion’s arm. In the Warden’s other hand, a long, wickedly sharp elven dagger appeared, held reverse-grip.

Then Rynarion ran. Straight towards the gap. He launched himself off the branch, not aiming for the lower springy limb, but directly across the chasm towards the massive trunk of the target tree on the far side. They soared through the air for a heart-stopping moment. Just as they reached the trunk, Rynarion slammed his dagger deep into the ancient wood, the blade biting hard, arresting their momentum with a jarring halt. Dangling eighty feet above the ravine, held only by Rynarion’s inhuman strength and a single blade, William felt his stomach try to relocate itself somewhere near his throat.

With a grunt of effort that barely disturbed his calm breathing, Rynarion used his grip on William and the dagger-hold to brace himself. Then, with his free arm, he simply threw William upwards towards the thick vines dangling just above the target platform where the others waited.

William flew, flailing slightly, driven more by momentum than control. His hands scrabbled, found purchase on the thick, rough vines. He clung on desperately as Rynarion, seeing him secure, smoothly retrieved his dagger from the tree trunk. The Warden found an invisible foothold, pushed off, and then, impossibly, seemed to almost run vertically up the last few meters of the trunk before grabbing the vines himself with effortless grace, landing silently on the platform beside a wide-eyed William a moment later.

William just stared, panting, clinging to the vine. Okay. Noted. Elven Wardens operate on different physics engine. Possess 'Wall Run' and 'Enhanced Throwing' abilities. Also, apparently part mountain goat.

“My apologies, Warden,” William managed, his voice shaky, acutely aware he was slowing them down. “My… agility parameters are somewhat below mission specifications.”

Rynarion didn't reply verbally. He simply placed a firm hand on William’s back, a gesture not of rebuke, but of grounding reassurance, and pushed him gently forward towards where Elara waited. The message was clear. We are a team. Focus on the task.

The sounds of battle from below seemed louder here, closer. Shouts, the clash of steel, the snarling of worgs, the unmistakable bright flash from fireball or lightning bolt spells being cast into the goblins ranks. It spurred them onward, the knowledge that Roland and Thalorin were buying them this precious, terrifying time.

They continued their traverse, William relying heavily on Elara’s occasional magical assists and Rynarion’s watchful presence behind him. After several more tense minutes of heart-stopping leaps and precarious balancing acts, Rynarion signalled another halt. They had reached a position slightly upslope and west of the shaman's last known location, concealed within the dense foliage of another colossal tree.

Rynarion signalled another halt. They held their positions, catching ragged breaths, the sounds of the battle below a constant roar.

Peering cautiously through the leaves, William activated EMMA’s enhanced vision. MP: 98/165. There. Below them, perhaps forty yards away, partially obscured by trees and the chaos of the ongoing battle near the stream, was the shaman. It stood within its protective cordon of veteran goblins and patrolling worg riders, staff still raised, the sickly green energy still pulsing, focused on maintaining the dispel or perhaps preparing another spell.

“Target acquired,” Rynarion whispered, his voice barely audible. He assessed the situation instantly. “Direct line of sight is obstructed by multiple trunks and low branches. Archery solution: Non-viable from this position.” He glanced at Elara. “Mage? Area effect?”

Elara frowned, peering through the leaves, mana gathering faintly around her. “Possible, Warden. A targeted fireball or chain lightning could reach the area. But the guard formation is tight. High probability of hitting protectors only, minimal impact on the shaman itself, and the blast will alert every goblin within a hundred yards to our precise location.”

Tactical Problem: Target shielded, direct ranged attack ineffective, area attack risks unacceptable collateral damage and exposure.

Linwe, one of the archers, spoke softly. “Warden, perhaps a diversion? If Faelar and I create a disturbance downslope, draw some of the guards away, it might create an opening for Elara's spell or a closer approach?”

Rynarion considered it, his expression grim. “A standard tactic, Linwe. But risky. If they don't take the bait, or if the shaman is more perceptive than we assume, we expose ourselves for nothing. We lose the element of surprise entirely.”

William listened, processing the options, the risks. His mind raced, EMMA automatically running simulations based on the tactical dilemma. Diversion Strategy Probability Analysis: Success (Guard Reduction >50%): 38%. Partial Success (Minor Guard Reduction): 25%. Failure (No Reaction/Alert Triggered): 37%. Overall Risk/Reward Ratio: Suboptimal. Translation: A statistically terrible idea, but currently the leading candidate in a field of even worse ideas. Fantastic.. There had to be a better way, something leveraging their position, their skills, perhaps even… his own unique system.

He focused EMMA again, pushing more mana, overriding his conservation protocols. MP: 93/165. Task: Analyse shaman protection detail formation, identify potential vulnerabilities exploitable from current elevated position. Scan for environmental factors. Cross-reference known magical effects... The system churned, processing the limited visual data, the ambient mana signatures, the sounds of battle. He needed an angle. An exploit. Fast.