Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Battle in the Canopies

The mechanical roar of the Brassvale flight unit gradually faded into the dark, swirling clouds above, carrying away Mileon—the man who had just traded his city’s soul for a seat at the table of industry. But his departure left no peace in its wake. High above the gargantuan boughs of Elarwyn, the atmosphere was thick with the stench of corrosive black smoke billowing from the dimension rift that had just been forcibly slammed shut.

The silence of the night was shattered by the guttural, hungry growls of the Abyssal creatures—vile remnants trapped in this world after the breach. Their cries echoed through the vast, rustling canopy, where the once-vibrant emerald leaves were now beginning to blacken and shrivel at the edges.

Dayat stood at the edge of a massive bough, one that was wider than a primary highway in Jakarta. He looked up, his GPNVG-18 optics glowing with a dim green light as he tracked the movement of Imps in the higher tiers. They were already beginning to ignite the Kenanga groves, their black hellfire licking at the precision irrigation lines he had spent days installing.

Suddenly, the HK416 in Dayat’s hands began to pulse with an intense, sapphire-purple radiance. The molecules of the weapon began to vibrate and shatter, dissolving into a fine mist of light before vanishing completely into the void of his sub-conscious inventory.

“I need something lighter, something more stable for vertical CQC,” Dayat murmured, his brow furrowed in concentration. His mind delved into a very specific set of technical memories. “Submachine Gun. Super V Recoil Mitigation System. .45 ACP caliber. High fire rate, low muzzle climb.”

The violet light condensed once more in his grip, hardening into the shape of a compact, futuristic weapon. The Kriss Vector. Dayat performed a lightning-fast press check, feeling the weight of the bolt as it slid back into place. The unique vertical-recoil bolt system was exactly what he needed to maintain accuracy while swinging between branches.

But he didn’t stop there. He knew that in the tangled, multi-layered heights of the World Tree, a man’s feet were his greatest liability on the slick, sap-covered bark.

Dayat focused his manifestation again, creating a Tactical Harness that strapped tightly around his torso and thighs, reinforced with high-tensile nylon. At his hip, he manifested a specialized tool: a Gas-Powered Grappling Hook Gun. He turned toward the elite Paladins who were still struggling to find their footing after Mileon’s explosive departure.

“Listen to me!” Dayat shouted over the rising howl of the wind. He manifested several more harnesses and grappling units, tossing them to the nearest Paladins. “The branches up there are covered in boiling sap and Abyssal residue. They’re too slick for your boots. Wear these. These are rapid-deployment mobility units. Aim the hook at a sturdy branch, fire, and the internal motor will pull you up in a second. Don’t try to climb manually unless you want to be falling-practice for the demons below.”

The Paladins stared at the cold, metallic devices with a flicker of hesitation. But the lead Paladin, a veteran who had spent his life manipulating wind currents, understood the principle of mobility instantly. He strapped the harness on with a grim nod. “Understood, Outlander. This will replace our wind-anchors, which are currently being distorted by the Abyssal energy. Paladins! Equip yourselves! We take the fight to the sky!”

“Kancil!” Dayat looked down at the boy, who stood protectively near Governor Caelmir. “Stay here. Protect the Governor and Milea. Do not let a single Dretch crawl up from the lower boughs. Clear the ground floor!”

Kancil nodded, his jaw set with a fierce determination. He no longer looked like the terrified street urchin from Bakasa. With his Glock 17 held in a steady, two-handed grip and a vibrating combat knife in his left hand, he looked like a young predator protecting his den. “Got it, Bang! Anyone who tries to get a piece of the Governor is going back to the pit in pieces!”

Dayat gave a sharp nod to Dola. His Bio-Synthetic assistant stepped forward, her sapphire eyes glowing with a terrifyingly bright intensity. Dola didn’t bother with firearms. She didn’t need them. She drifted slightly off the surface of the wood, her feet floating an inch above the bark. Her combat posture shifted into something alien—a manifestation of pure, controlled force.

“Initializing battlefield control mode,” Dola’s voice stated with a chilling, clinical precision.

Dayat aimed his Grappling Hook and squeezed the trigger. Phuss! The steel hook shot out with a hiss of pressurized gas, anchoring itself into a branch thirty meters above. With a hum of the high-torque motor, Dayat was yanked upward, swinging through the Elarwyn canopy with the grace of a tactical spider. Mid-swing, he spotted three Imps preparing to launch spheres of black fire at his primary irrigation hub.

Brrrrt! Brrrrt!

The sound of the Kriss Vector was a sharp contrast to the thunderous HK416. It was faster, smoother, and possessed almost zero muzzle climb. The heavy .45 ACP rounds shredded the Imps’ chests in a fraction of a second, causing them to explode into soot before they could release their spells. Dayat landed on a sloping branch, his tactical boots biting into the rough, ancient bark for purchase.

But a new threat emerged from the dense, dying foliage. These weren’t mere fodder. Three Abyssal Stalkers—humanoid horrors with four elongated arms ending in razor-sharp bone blades—crept out with incredible speed. They were silent, their movements mimicking the swaying of the wind-tossed branches.

“Master, behind you!” Dola warned.

Dola blurred, moving faster than the eye could track. She intercepted two Stalkers mid-leap, her palms extended toward them.

A wave of transparent energy erupted from Dola’s hands—a massive burst of kinetic force. The pressure was so immense it compressed the air around the branch, creating a visible distortion. The two Stalkers were hammered back with enough force to shatter their exoskeletons instantly, sending them plummeting into the dark abyss thousands of meters below. The third Stalker attempted a flanking strike from the side, but Dola calmly extended her left hand.

An invisible gravitational pull yanked the demon toward her with terrifying velocity. As the creature reached her, Dola delivered a short-range energy strike that pulverized its internal organs into a dark slush.

Dayat was momentarily awestruck by Dola’s sheer efficiency. She wasn’t just fighting; she was manipulating the physics of the battlefield. “Nice work, Dola! Maintain the radius!”

Down on the lower boughs, Kancil was in his element. An Alpha Dretch that had survived the initial skirmish was trying to flank Governor Caelmir through a blind spot in the foliage. Kancil didn’t panic. He moved like a ghost, utilizing the shadows of the massive leaves and the thinning Spore-Fog.

He emerged directly behind the creature’s neck, driving his vibrating knife into a gap in its thick, leathery hide, and then followed up by unloading three rounds of 9mm from his Glock directly into the wound. The demon collapsed without even a gurgle. Milea, watching from nearby, was stunned. She hadn’t expected the boy brought by the outlander to possess such a cold, efficient killer instinct.

“Dayat! Use my light!” Milea screamed from below, her hands weaving a high-tier spell.

“Light-Bloom Radiance!”

The leaves surrounding Dayat suddenly erupted in a brilliant, golden glow, illuminating the shadows and revealing the heat-signatures of several Imps hiding behind the Kenanga clusters. Through the thermal optics of his GPNVG-18, their silhouettes turned a bright, undeniable orange.

“Thanks, Milea! I have the coordinates!”

Dayat fired his grappling hook again, swinging in a wide, circular arc. While suspended in mid-air, he unleashed a series of bursts from the Kriss Vector. Each burst dropped an Imp like a stone. The precision of Earth’s ballistics combined with the high mobility of the grappling units left the elite Paladins in awe. They were beginning to master the hooks themselves, moving up and down the branches like a unit of specialized war-spiders.

But the victory was costly. Each explosion of hellfire and every stray bullet left a scar on the World Tree. Dayat could feel the tremors of the tree’s pain through the soles of his boots. The ancient giant was now utterly silent—a silence that was far more terrifying than the groans.

“Dola, vitality status of the tree!” Dayat yelled as he landed on the highest point of the Western Canopy.

“Critical, Master. The magical nutrient flow in this sector has suffered a total cessation. Necrosis is spreading rapidly toward the Kenanga Bough. If we do not neutralize the Abyssal energy residue within three hours, this entire branch will rot and collapse, obliterating the agricultural districts below.”

Dayat surveyed the scene. The Western Canopy sector now looked like a scorched wasteland. The leaves that once glowed with life were now gray and brittle. He looked toward the West, toward the distant Terragard peaks and the Lamenting Woods that looked like an ink-black sea under the moons. Mileon was long gone, but the chaos he had unleashed was only in its infancy.

Dayat descended back to the main platform, landing beside Caelmir and Milea as he cleared the final demon. He lowered his Kriss Vector, the barrel still emitting a thin wisp of smoke.

“The area is secure for now. But your mother… she needs more than just a magical cleansing,” Dayat said, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Caelmir looked at Dayat with a gaze of profound gratitude mixed with sorrow. “You have saved us from an invasion, Dayat. But Mileon… he has taken the secrets of the crown to our enemies.”

Milea stepped forward, her hands still trembling from the dual strain of magic and grief. “He is no longer one of us. He is an enemy of Verdia now. But for now… help us save the World Tree, Dayat. I beg of you.”

Dayat looked at Milea, then at Kancil, who was calmly wiping demon blood from his Glock. He knew that his mission in Elarwyn had just entered its most desperate phase: restoring life in the middle of a wasteland left by a “Ghost.”

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