Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (149/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 149 I hope you guys enjoy! :D The revised version for Chapter 148 will be releasing tomorrow some time before the full release of Chapter 149! :D

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.]

“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. 

“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 2 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 but inconsistent with known aircraft.]

[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… Configuration congruent with passenger cabins. Summary: Potential personnel and/or equipment transport.]

“QSR: Tactical Profile.”

[Unable to parse to within 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: 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’, 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 tucked 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, or perhaps 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. One that I blurted out without much thinking. “Before we continue, I need to clear something up with you.”

“Yes, 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 often more 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.”