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Data & Magic Chapter 109: Countdown to Zero
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 11:30:02 +0000 UTCAir ripped past William’s face, a chaotic roar momentarily drowning out the sounds of battle below. He plummeted through the canopy, EMMA’s trajectory overlay a frantic blue line against the blur of green and brown. This wasn't controlled descent, it was calculated falling. Branches whipped past, tearing at his cloak, scraping against his enchanted armour. Aerodynamic profile: Suboptimal. Encountering unexpected turbulence... and twigs. Lots of twigs. A thick, unseen limb slammed hard against his side, stealing his breath with a grunt of pain. Another raked across his arm, leaving fiery trails beneath the leather. HP: 178/200. Minor impact damage logged. He ignored it, focus locked entirely on the rapidly approaching forest floor and the sequence EMMA had simulated.
“TWO!” His voice was a ragged shout, swallowed by the wind of his passage, heard only by the elves still poised on the branch far above, their faces a mixture of disbelief and dawning horror.
Even as he fell, even as pain flared from multiple impacts, his mind worked with cold precision. He reached inward, grabbing hold of the familiar warmth of his mana pool, and began shoving it, raw and uncontrolled, towards the simple river stone clutched tight in his right fist. Not the gentle trickle needed for illumination, but a desperate, high-pressure surge. He visualized the two simple runes, Output, Luminosity, not as stable conduits, but as fragile fuses about to blow. MP: 102/165... 80/165... 50/165... Pushing mana transfer rate towards critical overload. He felt the stone grow unnaturally warm against his palm, a contained star threatening to go nova. MP: 17/165, just before the redline (10%). Redlining the mana core... Calculated risk. Mana Backlash during freefall followed by goblin reception seems... inefficient. But necessary.
“ONE!” The shout tore from his throat, closer to the ground now, loud enough perhaps to cut through the noise below.
He saw them then, the goblins surrounding the shaman. Their heads snapped up, ugly faces contorted first in confusion, then in dawning, predatory glee as they registered the impossible sight. A lone human, weaponless, falling directly into their midst like a suicidal offering. Target acquisition by hostile forces confirmed. Threat level: Imminent.
The ground rushed up. He could see individual blades of grass, the texture of the mud. He braced, remembering EMMA’s impact absorption protocol. Simultaneously, he saw the goblins closest react with surprising speed. Not waiting for him to land, not questioning the absurdity. Just pure, lethal instinct. Two worg riders spurred their snarling mounts forward, crude spears levelled. A hulking goblin veteran lunged, axe already swinging in a vicious upward arc aimed where William would be.
Impact imminent. Spell charge optimal. Goblin reaction time faster than projected. No time left.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the anticipated impacts, against the blinding flash he was about to unleash.
“ZERO!” The word was less a shout, more a final, desperate exhalation.
He opened his hand.
It wasn't just light. It was pressure, a sudden wave of heat washing over his face even through closed lids, a silent thump against his eardrums before the goblins' shrieks began. The world ceased to exist in a silent, impossible detonation of pure white-blue light. It erupted from the overloaded river stone with the force of a physical blow, an incandescent sphere that annihilated shadow, bleached colour, and seared itself onto retinas. For one eternal, silent heartbeat, the forest floor around the shaman was bathed in the light of a newborn, artificial sun.
Then came the sound. Not from the light itself, but from its victims. A wave of high-pitched, agonized shrieks ripped through the air as goblin and worg alike were slammed by the overwhelming sensory assault. Those closest clutched at their eyes, stumbling blindly, crashing into each other, rolling on the ground, emitting raw howls of pain and confusion. The carefully maintained protective cordon dissolved instantly into chaos.
But three attacks, launched in the split second before the flash consumed their vision, were already committed.
A worg rider’s spear, thrust blindly as the light hit, glanced off William’s side, the +2 Wyvern armour turning the point but the force of the blow spinning him, making his already jarring landing catastrophic. He hit the ground hard, shoulder first, pain exploding through his collarbone. HP: 178 -> 106/200. Significant blunt force trauma detected. Potential clavicle fracture.
Simultaneously, the veteran goblin’s axe, swung upwards with brutal intent, connected heavily with William’s armoured shoulder as he fell. The enchanted leather and steel held, miraculously preventing the blade from shearing through, but the kinetic energy transferred was immense. It felt like being hit by a battering ram. The world dissolved into flashing stars behind his eyes, a wave of nausea surged, and the impact slammed him flat onto his back, driving the air from his lungs in a painful whoosh. HP: 106 -> 63/200. Major kinetic impact absorbed by armour. Severe internal bruising likely. Concussive effects detected.
The third attack, a rusty shortsword thrust by another goblin worg rider reacting just before the flash, missed its intended target, William’s heart, only because the axe blow had slammed him downwards. Instead, the blade skipped off his armour and sliced viciously across his cheek, opening a deep, burning gash from jawline to temple. HP: 63 -> 46/200. Facial laceration confirmed. Close call analysis: Extremely high.
Pain. White-hot, overwhelming, radiating from multiple points. Dizziness threatened to pull him back under. Damage assessment critical... but user remains conscious and mobile (barely). He gasped, forcing air back into his lungs, tasting blood and dirt. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the swimming afterimages burned into his vision by his own spell. Thank the system for titles that gave Vitality points bonuses, a detached part of his mind noted clinically. Otherwise, this operational phase would have concluded with user decommissioning.
Ringing filled his ears, the world a nauseating, swimming blur of pain and afterimages. He gasped, forcing air back into his lungs, tasting blood and dirt. He blinked rapidly... The scene was chaos...
He pushed himself up onto one elbow, ignoring the screaming protest from his shoulder and leg, vision slowly clearing. The scene was chaos. Goblins staggered blindly, howling, crashing into trees, attacking phantom shapes or their own comrades in confusion. Worgs whined and snapped, equally disoriented. Crucially, the shaman stood swaying, staff lowered, one hand clamped over the eye sockets of its bear-skull hood, emitting a high-pitched, continuous keen of agony. Its concentration, the vital link maintaining the dispel magic, was utterly shattered.
Objective achieved: Shaman neutralized (temporarily). Enemy cordon disrupted. William allowed himself a grim flicker of satisfaction before another wave of pain nearly made him black out again.
It was then that the elves arrived.
Not descending cautiously now, but dropping the last twenty feet like avenging spirits, landing silently amidst the chaos. Rynarion, Linwe, Faelar, Elara. Their eyes, shielded perhaps by reflex or elven physiology, seemed less affected by the lingering flash. They took in the scene, William injured but alive on the ground, surrounded by a dozen blinded, howling, disoriented goblins and worgs, the shaman incapacitated, with expressions of utter, profound disbelief momentarily warring with tactical focus. William saw Rynarion stare at him, then at the spot where the light had erupted, then back at him, as if trying to reconcile the F-Rank analyst with the tactical nuclear device that had just detonated.
But there was no time for questions, no time for astonishment. The tactical window William had bought them at such cost was measured in seconds.
The Warden’s hand instinctively tightened on his own sword hilt, his emerald eyes wide for a fraction of a second before narrowing again with lethal focus as he issued the command “Engage!”.
The elves became a blur of deadly efficiency. Linwe and Faelar moved like shadows, short blades flashing, dispatching the blinded, stumbling goblin guards with swift, silent, brutal precision. Throats were cut, spines severed before the goblins even realized death was upon them. Elara, seeing the immediate melee threat handled, focused her power, unleashing a rapid series of concussive force bolts that slammed into the disoriented worg riders, sending them flying from their saddles, breaking bones, ensuring they wouldn't recover quickly.
Rynarion moved directly towards the shaman. The goblin magic-user, still keening and clawing at its hood, sensed the approach too late. Rynarion didn't hesitate. With a single, fluid motion that was terrifying in its economy, his long elven blade swept upwards in a glittering arc.
There was a wet, final thump.
The shaman’s head, bear-skull hood and all, tumbled from its shoulders, landing awkwardly in the moss near William’s feet with a small, sickening bounce before rolling to a stop, empty sockets staring sightlessly. The body stood for a second, headless, then crumpled like a discarded sack.
Target neutralized, William thought hazily, watching the head roll. Mission objective: Complete.
The moment the shaman died, William felt it, a distinct shift in the ambient magic. A deep, resonant hum returned to the air, the feeling of immense, ancient power reasserting itself. He looked up through the canopy. Was the light filtering down changing subtly? Becoming more focused, less diffuse?
EMMA analysis: Ward signature reforming. Illusionary matrix re-establishing integrity. He could almost feel the powerful elven barriers snapping back into place, powered by the abundant mana of Lumenar, sealing the breach, thickening the magical fog that concealed the path.
Down in the ravine, the main goblin charge would now be hitting that reasserted wall of confusion and misdirection, their momentum broken, their coordination shattered, vulnerable once more to Thalorin's archers and mages.
The strike team’s desperate gamble had paid off. They had decapitated the enemy command structure responsible for breaching the wards. They had bought Thalorin and Roland the time they needed. The tide of the immediate battle, William calculated with weary certainty, had likely just turned back in Lumenar's favour.
Now all that remained was dealing with the aftermath. And hoping his regeneration could handle concussion, potential fractures, and significant blood loss before something else decided to wander into the clearing. System integrity check reveals multiple hardware failures. Software (EMMA) surprisingly stable despite power fluctuations. Recommend immediate maintenance cycle... or possibly just a very long nap.
