Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (149/?)

The Nexus. Just outside of the South-Eastern edge of the North Rythian Forests. Local Time: 1700 Hours.

Emma

[‘QUEST’ Time Elapsed: 76 Hours. Time Remaining: 92 Hours]

[SURVEY PROGRESS… 12.5%. Estimated time to Completion… 21 Hours. Data Fidelity: Nominal. Network Integrity: Stable. Primary Objective… Pending.]

[Crystal Shards… Not found.]

[AMETHYST DRAGON… Not found.]

“Welp. Progress is progress. Besides, as long as we keep up this pace, we should be on schedule.” I let out a sigh, gesturing to a screen that always seemed to catch Thalmin off guard.

And it wasn’t in an awestruck kind of way, nor was it the shock he displayed from earlier at the efficiencies of the battlenet, nor a disappointment at the current progress, no.

In fact, this squint… was a reaction I was used to from both friends and family back home.

It was a squint of judgement — whether by intention or biological reflexes — at the horrors of my personal preferences. Or to put it more accurately, at a certain screen setting that seemed to be the source of so many grievances — light mode.

I’d practically flash-banged Thalmin, because unlike the brightness of the day, the growing evening brought with it eyes more sensitized to the dark. 

“I much prefer it when the ink itself is what glows against the natural tones of the parchment.” He mumbled out, my eyes narrowing at the allusions to the existence of a magical dark mode. “I don’t know how you humans do it, though I do know of more than a handful of species who have quite an inclination towards the light…” He muttered that latter line out in much the same way he did with the rest of his inside jokes; to which I simply brushed off. 

“In any case, we should be done with a full sweep of the forest by 1400 hours tomorrow. Afterwhich, we’ll have enough intel to dictate our next course of action. Hopefully we’ll find a stray shard by then, but if not… just under two days should be enough to snipe the dragon, no?”

“We’d have to track it first, Emma.” Thalmin responded with a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what battlenet is for! We have eyes in the sky looking not just at the ground, but the airspace above—”

[PRIORITY ALERT! MULTIPLE AERIAL CONTACTS ENTERING AO. APPROACH VECTOR CONFIRMED: GRID SECTOR A-1-4-D; NORTHWEST QUADRANT!]

My eyes lit up, as did Thalmin’s. All prior thoughts took a backseat to protocol, as operational algorithms drilled into me during drone operator training were immediately brought to the forefront. 

“Active camo and evasive flight paths, now.” 

[Acknowledged.]

“Defer active ops and initiate threat-range scans.”

[Acknowledged. Instructions relayed. Network Integrity: Stable. Redirecting assets. Standby…]

The map shifted as the game changed in a matter of seconds. The familiar top-down perspective of the forest was promptly replaced by a panoramic view of the skies immediately in front of the drones, as individual status readouts, flight paths, and flight instrument indicators came to join the collage of tactical displays that had Thalmin’s eyes darting left and right.

I couldn’t blame him, though.

That’s why drone operator training took a sizable chunk of basic. One doesn’t just naturally fall into the role of Queen to one’s swarm, after all. Experience, i.e. time, was what was needed to really get used to the sensation of perceiving the world beyond the restrictions of one’s own two eyes.

[Fleet Redirection… complete. New flight paths… mapped. Network Integrity: Stable. Awaiting Orders.]

“QSR: Identify contacts.”

[Estimated Count: 3 Large Contacts]

[TRACK ID: Winged Heavy 1-1, 1-2, 1-3]

[Estimated Count: 12 Small Contacts accompanying in formation]

[TRACK ID: Winged Light 2-1 through 2-12.]

“QSR: Signature profile.”

[Visual: Winged Heavy 1-1, 1-2, 1-3, inconsistent with AMETHYST DRAGON and other recorded flight-capable species in the WORKING SPECIES REGISTRY. Winged Light 2-1 through 2-12 consistent with OPFOR Aerial Asset ‘DRAKE RIDER’.]

[Thermal: Elevated, inconsistent with known aircraft. Consistent with local mounted air asset analogues.]

[Mass/Volume: Large Contacts approx. 5 - 10 metric tons. Smaller Contacts approx. 400 - 700 kilograms.]

[Payload: Underbelly Stowage Compartments Noted on Large Contacts. Repositioning for better analysis, Standby… Parsing… Updating visual feed… Analyzing… Design and Configuration congruent with passenger cabins. Summary: Potential personnel and/or equipment transport.]

“QSR: Tactical Profile.”

[Unable to parse… Insufficient contextual analytics. Profile is beneath acceptable report limits.]

“QSR: Visual Tactical Readout.”

[Winged Light 2-1 through 2-12. Ranged Air to Air Assets: 24 Spears; Ammo Count 24. 12 Bows; Ammo count: Variable, Approx 30. Melee Arms: 12 Swords. Armor: Plate Steel. ADDENDUM: Possibly augmented with exotic mana-materials and radiation. Capabilities unknown.]

“Maintain current instructions. Continue monitoring.”

[Acknowledged.]

“Live feed readout, I want to see where this goes.”

[Acknowledged.]

Our eyes remained glued to the screen as the situation developed surprisingly quickly.

The three large contacts simply dropped off their wood and steel reinforced ‘cabins’, unlatching leather and steel straps, before departing without much fanfare. 

Meanwhile, 8 of the 12 drake riders departed soon after, acting as escorts for their large but lumbering cousins.

The initial shock and preliminary concern that hit us eventually died down, especially as the remaining drake riders landed on the forest floor, taking up ‘resting’ positions with their wings flared and their heads tucked. Their two legs eventually folded in on themselves as well, giving them a sort of ‘loaf-like’ shape once their wings too were nestled beneath them.

“Must be another group of adventurers.” I offered. “Sym did mention how he encountered a few dead parties in the forest.”

“No. These must be men-at-arms, or a proper mercenary company at the very least. No adventurer, no matter how ostentatious, would ever in their right mind charter a greater drake.” Thalmin countered.

“Right. Well… that might complicate things then.” I acknowledged with a sigh. 

“I don’t see anyone resembling a proper noble in the camp, however.” Thalmin offered, as he gestured for me to zoom in on several people down beneath the canopy. “There may be one from the looks of it. But I highly doubt that. No Nexian noble would oversee an operation of this diminutive scale. I’d wager this operation is being led by a few chosen ones, if not more.” The prince shrugged. “Either way, what this means for us is simple — expect slow progress on behalf of these interlopers. But given their numbers and outfitting, we shouldn’t leave anything to chance. You said we had 21 more hours until the forest is fully surveyed, correct?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Then this changes nothing. Just make haste if you can, Emma. If we are to initiate ‘Plan B’ as you call it, then we must act swiftly. We cannot allow these interlopers to take the dragon before we can extract what we need from it.” 

“Right. Okay. I’ll get the drones back in their original flight paths. Though, if those drakes ever take flight again, I will have to reconfigure them to more evasive flight patterns, if only to avoid detection.”

“Understandable.” Thalmin nodded.

However, before he could move on, a question suddenly spawned. 

“Before—”

“I’d like to—”

Or more accurately, two questions, simultaneously; as the both of us spoke at more or less exactly the same time.

=====

Thalmin

“You go first.” Emma urged.

“This may be a bit of a tangent, so I’d suggest you go first, Emma.” I countered politely.

“Trust me, mine’s a tangent as well, so—”

“To avoid an endless loop, I will take that offer.” I interjected with a harsh breath, before gesturing to the tablet in front of us. “That entire… exchange. Between your commands and the messages on your artifices, is this how you typically communicate between you and your swarm?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “Remember how I changed the scenery in the ZNK-19? This is more or less the same concept, just scaled up.” 

I narrowed my eyes, pondering a response as I once more leaned into the manaless window. A window… into the eyes and ears of what was frankly, a swarm.

Thoughts upon thoughts abounded one atop of the other, with practical concerns clashing against the shore of intrigue, eroding what was already firm suspicion into outright conspiracy into the nature of earthrealm. 

Or more accurately, the nature of their military capabilities.

However, in spite of everything, all I allowed out of my mouth was a simple acknowledgement. “I see.” 

Instead, I took a moment to pause, to ponder, as I watched through the looking glass at the world through the eyes of a swarm.

Each ‘perspective’ was composited, a mosaic of sights that resembled the world as seen through the eyes of bees, wasps, and the litany of creatures whose vision was as alien as the manaless perspective through which the world was being filtered through via this artifice.

I let out another breath, before shifting my perspective back to Emma. “I simply feel the need to ask, as the abilities displayed here seem… seamless, practiced, rehearsed, and dare I say it — second nature. This wasn’t a simple command relayed to a static sightseer. This was the direct control of multiple manaless golems, as seamlessly as if they were an extension of your self.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s because it kind of is! As in, mental adaptability is something that’s useful for us, you know? You put someone in charge of a bunch of far-seers in a building, and they eventually come to ‘feel’ as if the building itself is an extension of them you know? Same goes for helmsmen and ships, pilots and aircraft, and so on and so forth. Drone operators — i.e. most frontline personnel — are trained similarly. We have to integrate seamlessly into battlenet, because a second’s hesitation or delay might be what makes or breaks an engagement.” 

I took a moment to ponder that, to truly examine the seemingly spiritual connection between the human and their constructs.

In a sense, it wasn’t unlike the bond between myself and Emberstride, or the soulstitched or soulbound bonds in many other battlemages, warriors and knights. 

Yet as similar as it was, there was still… an unnerving alien-ness to it.

Whatever the case was, I simply acknowledged the swarm queen’s sentiments with a nod, before gesturing for her to address her concerns.

“Your turn.”

=====

Emma

“So, you mentioned — chosen ones. And really, I’ve heard this term thrown around a lot, especially at the adventuring guild. But no one’s really… explained it to me. So I've just kinda been going off of context clues and what we’ve learned about gifted commoners so far. Are chosen ones just another, more ‘fancier’ way of saying ‘gifted commoners’ or…?”

“Correct, Emma.” Thalmin nodded. “Although, the term ‘chosen one’ is more often synonymous with gifted commoners who enter more martial paths. As opposed to, say, our elf server in the grand dining hall who’s only committed to using his magic for parlor tricks.” 

“How big of a threat are we talking about here? Because up to this point, I’ve only gone up against mages in challenges and whatnot. A proper fight is something I’ve only encountered once with Mal’tory and that was—”

Thalmin snickered, stopping me in my tracks. 

“What’s so funny?”

“If you survived an encounter with a Black Robed Professor, I doubt you’ll have any issues against a mere Chosen One, Emma.” Thalmin bellowed out confidently, patting me on the shoulder. “Though, that doesn’t mean we should not be wary of course. I’ve met many a chosen one who punched above their weight class. This can be especially true when coupled with enchanted items and weapons. There are many of those who seamlessly integrate — as you seem to do yourself — with their tools and weapons. So much so that they can sometimes be mistaken for a true mage. Though, typically, once you see a Chosen One in action, you’ll know exactly what to expect. Since in the same vein that gifted commoners are ‘gifted’ with a single narrow sliver of magical acumen, so too are Chosen Ones confined to a very small sliver of magical potential.”

“Right.” I nodded, my mind racing through the implications of this newfound intel. “So, just so we’re on the same page, supposing there’s a guy who’s able to do fire magic, he’d more or less be locked to just fire magic right?”

“That’s simplifying the matter, but for our purposes, you’ve struck the kobold on the head there Emma. There are, however, always exceptions to the rule. Such as with the rare case with certain jack-of-all-trades. But those are exceptionally rare, and usually only seen in illegitimate offspring between nobles and commoners.” The prince explained bluntly. “Even then, these jack of all trades are often weaker than mere Chosen Ones, but I digress. Suffice it to say, Emma, we’ll be fine.” Thalmin beamed, thumping his chest once. “Look who you’ve partnered with, after all.”

“Yeah, fair enough, my mercenary prince.” I chuckled. 

The next few moments were finally punctuated by silence, as we watched the camp grow tent by tent. 

The drones counted at least a hundred or so contacts, and as dusk fully settled, quite a few peculiar things popped up.

Most notable among these, being the erection of some sort of altar at least half a click from the camp, with offerings wrapped in parchment carefully placed on each pedestal. 

“Erm… care to fill me on that, Thalmin?” I pointed. 

“Oh, that’s just an offering, Emma.” The prince explained casually. 

To which I could only respond with an accentuated cock of my head. “Elaborate.”

“An offering to placate the forest itself, Emma. To ward off potential… negative reactions to what could otherwise be perceived as an incursion of its territory.” 

I blinked rapidly, cocking my head. “Is that an actual thing, or a superstition?”

“You’ve interacted with the forest face to face with one of its avatars, have you not, Emma?” The prince countered, as it took a second for my mind to finally register what the prince was getting at.

“OH RIGHT! THE WEREBEAST!” I attempted to snap my fingers, only to elicit an unsatisfying motion that puzzled the lupinor. “Right, yeah, I remember now. So that was actually the forest talking through it then? It never occurred to me to follow up on that, thinking it was just like, the werebeast being all high and mighty about himself.”

“Yes, Emma. Each forest is akin to a force of nature unto their own, with other entities that enforces its will and communicates its desires as they deem fit. Some primitives even go so far as to consider them gods of sorts. Though, given His Eternal Majesty refused to consume them — instead forging some sort of an alliance or some such — I doubt they’re anywhere near the level of deities.” 

“So what can we expect from the forest?” I immediately shot back, my mind still very much stuck in rapid response and assessment mode. “Are we looking at like… an immune reaction or something? Vines and tendrils shooting up, moss to consume us whole, sinkholes forming, and slime creatures attacking?”

“We’re not facing a druid, Emma.” Thalmin responded with a hefty chuckle. “If anything, we have no need to worry given the makeup of our current party. Forests typically do not target small groups, so long as they do not actively seek out its destruction. Moreover, with you being effectively lifeless in its eyes, there’s even less chance of it targeting us. Indeed, the presence of a far larger, more unsightly group in its Northwest region, will take up much of its attention.” 

I narrowed my eyes at Thalmin, crossing my arms to make up for the lack of facial expression in order to convey a certain level of doubt in the prince’s claims. “So… burning a good few acres of forest doesn’t count as actively seeking out its destruction, huh?” I chuckled darkly, alluding to a certain fight against a vorpal chimera.

The prince, surprisingly, didn’t immediately counter this with an excuse nor a loophole. Instead, he let out a nervous chuckle, a sly grin forming on his face in short order. “Heh, well… you could say I overlooked the potential consequences of my actions in the heat of the moment.”

I placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Spoken like a true orbital ordinance officer.” 

The prince’s brows quirked at this, possibly at the EVI’s attempts to translate the joke, but I counted it as fair game given the inside jokes he’d been leveling at me for the past week.

Things wound down after a few more back and forths, our eyes still very much monitoring the situation over in the camp from above, until we finally noticed something else that caught our attention.

“Huh. That’s a heck of a lot of cheese.” I noted.

“I guess they had a run-in with our new friend.” Thalmin smiled brightly. “He’s quite a salesman, so it stands to reason that he must’ve made quite an impression on our interlopers here. Probably sold most of his stock from the looks of it.” 

“Yeah! Honestly, good for him.” I beamed, as I quickly patted the pouch that held the little notebook the kobold had gifted me.

I can’t wait to see the upgrades to your cart and wares once we meet again. I thought brightly to myself.

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 29. Ilphius and Kamil’s Room. Local Time: 1730 Hours

Ilphius

“Kamil.” I announced firmly, making my presence known with a SLAM of the doors. “It’s time you came out of hiding.” 

…

Yet no answer came.

I let out a frustrated sigh, clenching my fists, before unleashing fury in the form of disruption, disorientation, and dispelling magics which would’ve caused even the most stoic of mages to lose their footing.

The result was immediate.

Though not in the way I’d expected.

Yaaaawwwwwnnnnnnnn! 

A voice strained from within one of the corners of the room, as the lazy layabout finally uncloaked, focusing his two beady eyes on me.

“I’m guessing your second and final proposal with Lady Airit did not go as planned?” The coward spoke with a lizard-like lisp, as a smug self-satisfied giggle colored his voice.

“At least I had the courage and mental fortitude to take chances.” I rebutted. “At least I exist in the material world.” I continued, as I leveled both ire and frustration firmly against the man. 

“Yes, yes. Exist you do. Perhaps you should allow me to return to my immaterial world then—”

“Stop.” I urged, my voice colored not by desperation, but authority.

This did the trick, as the barely-present lizard reacted without a second’s hesitation. His instinctive response to authority, true authority, laid bare to me.

“Whilst Lady Airit may lack vision, playing things safe as her master tends to do. I am unwilling to let this opportunity slip us by. This is why I am reassessing the situation, and requesting your cooperation in enacting my plans.” I stated firmly, eliciting a disgusting and debased roll of the lizard’s tongue as he seemed to mock my occasional tongue-flared hiss.

“I sssseeeee.” He responded mockingly, before stretching his arms and legs lazily in all directions. “Convince me.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

“You heard what I said: convince me. I have no horse in this race, Lady Ilphius. The worst you can do is to interrupt my sleep and scatter my belongings… but it isn’t as if you aren’t already doing that now are you?” He chuckled derisively, causing my whole body to tense and burn from the inside out.

“When my plan succeeds—”

“If.” 

“No, when, it does.” I seethed. “When it does succeed… I will be in a better position to retake the peer group’s throne from that wretched merchant. And when that time comes, I will make sure to elevate our group, to push us forward, and to place us in a position where we can challenge the earthrealmer’s group for a position in the house we were robbed of.”

…

“Sounds quite ambitious…”

“Indeed it is.” I acknowledged.

“And by ambitious I mean tiresome, Lady Ilphius.” The man yawned. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to do this on your own. Whether you’re group leader or not, you’ll—”

“I’ll unmask Teleos Lophime’s secret. I will uncover what it is he’s hiding in the healing wing.” I offered.

“Hmm… now you’re speaking my language. Though you’ll have to give me more than just juicy drama to eat up.” Kamil chuckled darkly.

“Coin.” I spat out. “Coin, you lazy, whiny, layabout—”

“Carte blanche.” He countered.

“Whatever spoils we may potentially earn from this escapade, yes.” I pushed forth a secondary counter-offer. To which the man finally relented with a long drawn out nod.

“What’s your plan?”

“I know there must be something that might incriminate the pair. That wretched and tainted avinor is most obviously a beacon of darkness. And the Vunerian? I’ve heard whispers of him slithering off to the libraries for some enigmatic purposes. Our task is to follow these two blighted beasts, and to determine once and for all what devious rule-breaking, or perhaps even law-breaking schemes they may be up to.” 

“Huh.” Kamil responded simply. “That’s easy enough.” 

“Indeed, and with your masterful camouflage skills, this will be even more—”

“We’ll start tomorrow then. I’m tired from today’s classes.” He yawned once more. 

“No.” I seethed, grabbing him by the half-transparent arm. “We’re starting today.” 

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 2000 Hours

Ilphius

“Ahem.” Kamil interrupted, tugging at my blouse as he did so. “Are you certain the pair are up to anything—”

“It’s just dinner, Kamil. Maybe if we trail them after this, we will see just what illicit activities they’re up to.” I intercepted the man’s concerns before he had a chance to fully voice them, as I continued eating, bite by agonizing bite, while I maintained a careful sentry on the pair.

“You know you’re resorting to such passive actions because without Lady Airit nor Lady Ladona, you simply don’t have the power to go toe to toe against—”

“Keep quiet!”

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Hallway. Local Time: 2200 Hours

Ilphius

“It’s curfew now. We have to go back.”

“I was certain they’d have gone anywhere but back to their room! Are you certain we did not follow phantoms or that we might have missed their subtle exit through the doors—”

“Yes, I’m certain, Lady Ilphius. You’re talking to the master of camouflage here.” Kamil responded lazily.

“Alright. We’ll just resume our sentry tomorrow.”

“And if nothing comes of tomorrow?” He countered.

“I have other avenues…”

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall en Route to ???. Local Time: 0900 Hours

Ilphius

“Still nothing, Lady Ilphius.”

“Patience, Kamil! Look! They’re leaving!”

“And what makes you think they’re not just heading back to their dormitory?”

“Because look—” I pointed at their path. “—they’re taking the main stairwell this time around.”

“Which means, what exactly?”

“They’re headed to the student lounge.”

“Oh joy.” Kamil sighed quietly.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Student Lounge. Local Time: 1200 Hours

Ilphius

“And I said: Panned cakes! It should be called panned cakes! For the cakes were made in a pan. But my private chef in their infinite stupidity refuses to acknowledge this, pushing forth a narrative of pan-cakes instead! Tell me my dear fellows, are the cakes not panned? For a cake to be a pan-cake, it should somehow resemble a pan or in some way—”

“He’s been at this, on the speaker’s chair, for hours now, Lady Ilphius.” Kamil bemoaned. “Are you certain this is what you seek?” 

“No… but what of the avinor—”

“She’s been silently reading a book, sipping tea, and eating nuts; occasionally being interrupted by the freaks from the fourth nook only to be rebuked. I’ve kept my other eye on her this entire time.” 

“Patience. Patience, Kamil. We will have our evidence.” 

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Library. Local Time: 1400 Hours.

Ilphius

“There it is, there it is! We must follow him!” I urged, as we both silently scouted our way forwards, ducking in illusory magics until the Vunerian had entered that most unholy of places.

We waited for several minutes more, until we made our move, walking across the bridge and then entering the den of unspeakable evils to continue our investigation.

Yet upon entry, we were met not by the scurrying of the increasingly pale-blue Vunerian, or any sign of him whatsoever.

Instead, what awaited us was a small fox that looked up at both of us expectantly.

“State your business! Do you wish to browse, or to trade?” The fox questioned, before moving up to sniff at the both of us, as if our illusory magics weren’t even there. “Hmm… neither of you seem to have anything to trade. Rather stale honestly.” 

“How dare you—”

“I’ve heard it much before, yes yes. Grumble and grumble, moan and whine. Let’s skip to the end now shall we? Are you here to browse, or to trade?”

We both looked at each other, before nodding. “Kamil, you—”

“I’ll browse, please.” The man sighed, eliciting a nod from the fox who simply… vanished the moment I turned to look back.

“I’ll keep an eye on the avinor. We’ll meet for dinner.”

“Right.” 

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1900 Hours

Ilphius

“Well look who finally decided to show up…” I hissed softly at an exhausted looking Kamil. “Found anything?”

“No. I barely got out of that impossible labyrinth!” He seethed. “The deal’s off, by the way. There’s nothing in it for me. The fun’s over.” He crossed his arms. “And I doubt you found anything interesting about the avinor either.”

I moved to speak… but found that I had nothing at all to say. “No I have not.” I stated plainly. “But I have one final plan to enact…” I offered, garnering the man’s attention. 

“What?” 

“The pair, they are both here are they not?”

“Yes they are, what of it?”

“It’s the perfect opportunity to… investigate their den of sin.” 

“You can’t be serious. You can’t just break into another dorm.” He countered.

“Oh contraire. I can… and I will. And whatever is in there… I shall have my spoils.”

=====

The Nexus. South-Eastern Quadrant of the North Rythian Forests. Local Time: 1900 Hours.

Emma

The relative ‘downtime’ that was the past 26 hours felt a heck of a lot like the fulfillment of one of Aunty Ran’s sayings.

A lot of war is a whole load of sitting around doing nothing. Except for the one percent of times where all hell breaks loose and you’re fighting within an inch of your life. You use that 99% to prepare for the 1%. Or at least that’s what they say. 

I just hoped to all that was holy that we wouldn’t experience the latter half of that anecdote.

[‘QUEST’ Time Elapsed: 102 Hours. Time Remaining: 66 Hours]

[SURVEY PROGRESS… 100%. Estimated time to Completion… 0 Hours. Data Fidelity: N/A. Network Integrity: N/A. Charging. Primary Objective… Pending.]

[Fleet Status: Charging.]

[Crystal Shards… Not found.]

[AMETHYST DRAGON… Not found.]

“Right, do you want the good news or the bad news, Thalmin?” 

“We’ve been sitting around waiting for your drones to do most of the work, let’s at least get some good news, Emma.” The prince grumbled.

“Right, well, good news! Our interloper friends have not detected our presence, nor our drones. That’s even with their Shatorealmer flying around. Also, the drakes seem to be in hibernate mode or something. They’ve only flown them once, though granted, it knocked a good few hours off of our survey time.” 

“Okay… I’m assuming the bad news is that there’s no stray crystal shard.” Thalmin sighed out.

“Correct.” I nodded. 

“Damnit.” Thalmin cursed. “Well then, it seems like we’ll just have to go dragon hunting now won’t we?” He attempted out with a grin, though despite the optimism, his nervousness still very much came through.

“Once the drones are charged up, I’ll be redirecting survey efforts towards tracking down the amethyst dragon’s lair. Given we have the whole forest mapped out now, it shouldn’t be too long before we narrow down a list of POIs—”

[PRIORITY ALERT! MULTIPLE AERIAL CONTACTS ENTERING THE AO! RANGE… 1400 METERS!]

My blood ran cold, as I tapped Thalmin on the shoulder, shooting him a look which he could not interpret.

Though I wouldn’t need to, because what happened next brought the man up to his feet.

“AH, AHHH, AGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” 

As a blood curdling scream, followed by the unmistakable — FWOOOOSH! — of fire erupted about a click north of our position.

We had only one drone in the air, but that’d have to do.

“QSR: Identify contacts.”

[Estimated Count: 1 Large Contacts]

[TRACK ID: AMETHYST DRAGON]

I felt my stomach clench, as my arm moved to activate the railgun. Though I only did so out of precaution—

[Estimated Count: 2 Small Contacts]

[TRACK ID: Winged Light 2-1, 2-2.]

—because we weren’t alone in this engagement.

We didn’t need to watch what was transpiring on the tablet, as the action was close enough that the light foliage of the canopy allowed for a near-uninterrupted view of the skies.

Two drake riders were attempting desperate sorties against the dragon, as they moved to corral, slash, and even ensnare the dragon with rope, netting, and just about everything but the kitchen sink.

This was all in a desperate attempt to save their ground forces from the brunt of the dragon’s fury, as we saw elves, dwarves, satyrs, kobolds, and even baxi desperately attempting to flee from the dragon’s ire; away from the wall of flames that halted their advance.

However, with every advance towards a potential exfil route, the dragon shot out another line of fire, corralling them towards a path of its own design.

It was as if the dragon was doing this on purpose, as if it was actively playing with its prey, giving them a false sense of hope of escape… only to slash that narrow slither of hope with the unbridled fury of dragonflame.

We both watched in silence as this group of mercenaries were eventually boxed in, their last exfil route completely bathed in flames, leaving them in a liberal box of fire that only grew closer and closer, with no potential of being put out.

Though it wasn’t as if they didn’t try. As one of the group — a blue-robed satyr — attempted to spray down the flames with some healthy streams of water; all to the tune of some weak bursts of mana radiation.

The dragon, noticing this, flew low and slow, almost hovering in front of the satyr.

The WHUMPF, WHUMPF, WHUMPFs of the dragon’s wingbeats shook the air, sending even Thalmin’s fur into a shiver, and my gut into a knot.

Their eyes met, and in what I could only describe as a snort of soot reminiscent of Ilunor’s uppity huffs, it grinned.

Bright blue dragon flame eventually came to meet the satyr’s jet of water, immediately vaporizing it… before vaporizing him, and the rest of his search party as well.

Their screams were short lived.

But even so, those scant few seconds were seared into my very core.

The dragon eventually moved to gain altitude, with the two drake riders in hot pursuit.

This would be our chance to tag and follow it.

So, without a second thought, I turned to the EVI.

“EVI. Send the survey drone after it. Observe maximum threat range and stay clear of its attention."

“Query: Specify survey drone.”

“The one we currently have in the air! SUR-DRONE03B—”

I paused, my heart skipping a beat as I noticed something pop up on my HUD.

[SUR-DRONE03… STATUS… CRITICAL DAMAGE… REQUESTING RETRIEVAL AND EXFIL]

I craned my head up, following the ping of the lost survey drone, until I was met with the dragon roaring overhead.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!

The faint red pulsing of its antenna, piercing through the dark of the night.