The Author's Viewpoint-Chapter 92 - The Flying Graveyard

"The monsters we’re supposed to fight are on the ground," Tave said, his voice level but heavy. "The boss monster too. It’s down there. If we want to complete this Rift, we have no other option. We have to get off this thing."

That was when one of the knights stepped forward and grabbed Tave by the shoulder. His grip was hard, shaking.

"Tave, are you out of your mind?! You’re asking us to jump? You think we’re stupid?! I don’t want to die!"

"This is insane! Completely insane! How the hell are we supposed to get down? No one here can fly!" another shouted.

The tension was immediate, spiking like a fire catching dry wood. Voices rose. Eyes narrowed. Even those who hadn’t spoken looked on with disbelief, anger, and dread.

And Tave... He couldn’t blame them.

He hadn’t offered a plan. He had only told them the truth. The cold, unworkable truth. They had to get down. But how?

Falling from this height might be survivable for Gaia Grand Masters, but for Gaia Masters like them?

It was suicide.

Tave spoke quietly, "Give me a moment."

He turned away from the argument and moved toward the edge of their makeshift gathering point. He wrapped a rope around his waist and secured it to one of the massive "trees" for support. Carefully, he began to climb upward along the feathered shaft, the wind howling around him like a chorus of warnings.

At the top, he pulled out a compact telescope from his gear. He braced himself against the wind and scanned the open sky and ground below.

Clouds. Endless clouds. They were so high, the earth below looked like a painted map, forests, cliffs, rivers, all impossibly far beneath them.

This was death. Even he could admit it now.

Jumping wasn’t a solution. It was an ending.

As he peered downward, voices echoed up from below.

"Let’s just kill this damn thing!" someone yelled again, more forcefully this time. "If we take it down, maybe it’ll fall slow enough that we can survive the landing!"

"I don’t think that’s a wise decision," Velion replied sharply, still managing to keep his voice measured.

"First, we don’t have nearly enough power to even scratch a Tier 8 creature, let alone bring it down. And second, if we do manage to hurt it, we’re gambling with our lives. If this thing becomes aggressive, we’re not just stuck here. We’ll be wiped out."

"Then what?! We jump?!" another knight shouted. "I’d rather die up here slowly than scream all the way to the ground!"

"If we don’t complete the Rift, it’ll collapse on its own," someone else said, face pale. "We’ll get wiped out anyway if we don’t kill the boss monster."

"So what are you saying? That we’re dead either way?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying!"

"Shut up!" another snapped. "We’re not dead yet! Stop acting like it’s over!"

"Then tell me what we’re supposed to do! Tell me how we get off this flying graveyard!"

The voices clashed, desperation bleeding into rage. Some had already sat down, heads in their hands. Others paced frantically, muttering calculations under their breath, eyes flicking to the edges as if hoping some miracle bridge would appear.

But Tave didn’t give in to the chaos below. He remained at his vantage point, eyes narrowed as he tracked the flight path of the colossal creature beneath them. The wind howled past his ears, almost knocking him off balance more than once, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

The skies around him flickered between patches of light and heavy cloud, some so thick they turned the sky nearly black. Still, he kept watching.

And then. He saw it.

In the distance, breaking through the cloud line: A high cliff formation, towering, jagged, and protruding just enough that Skarathor would fly dangerously close to it in the next few minutes.

Could they jump there?

The distance from the beast’s back to the jagged terrain was still deadly, but... It was better than the open sky. It was better than free-falling straight to the earth below.

Or was it just a faster way to die?

His thoughts raced. Technically, they had gliders, compact, hand-deployed devices not unlike parachutes, designed to help slow descent during mountain deployments or low-elevation jumps. But these weren’t proper parachutes. Not really.

They weren’t meant for heights like this. And with wind this violent, they were practically useless.

If only they had brought better flight gear. Real gliders. Elemental-stabilizers. Anything.

But in this Rift? They had nothing.

That jagged terrain might be the only shot they had.

Tave calculated fast. Half the team had air-element affinities. They could, at the very least, soften their fall. He had Gaia Wings, though he still lacked control over when or how they activated. Kaelira had not fully bonded with him yet.

At best, four of them might be in serious danger during the jump.

Even Panpan could likely use her mobility skills to dampen her descent. She was light, agile, and trained for terrain. But that didn’t make it safe.

It was still a massive risk.

But it was a risk they could take. Because the alternative, staying on this creature until it flew too high or too far, wasn’t survival. It was waiting for death.

They had minutes. Maybe less. The creature was drifting steadily toward the jagged terrain.

Tave clenched his jaw and descended. They had to decide. Now.

All eyes turned toward him, tension thick in the air, as if everyone was holding their breath. Waiting for him to deliver the verdict.

He didn’t waste time.

Tave laid out what he had seen with sharp clarity. The cliff formation, the path of the flying beast, and the narrowing window of opportunity.

"It’s the only way," he said.

"Why don’t we just wait?" one of the knights interrupted. "Wait until this thing lands or perches somewhere?"

Tave shook his head once. "It won’t. Skarathor never lands. It flies constantly. That’s what it does. That’s what it is."

"How the fuck do you know all this, Tave?!" another knight snapped, stepping forward aggressively. "You’re just a Gaia Guardian. You’re barely qualified to be here. You’re a burden, not a tactician!"

But before the argument could boil over, Velion stepped forward. "I can confirm what Tave’s said."

He glanced briefly at Tave, then back to the rest. "He did what we asked. He scouted, he observed, he found a lead. Now it’s on us to decide."

"And make no mistake," Velion continued, louder now, firmer, "this is a choice between one risky option, or certain death. There’s no backup coming. No miracle platform. Just this chance."

He scanned every face. "And I won’t leave anyone behind. We go together. No one gets left alone up here. We need every hand, every skill to survive what comes after."

Some of the forest elves nodded immediately. But the human knights? Doubt still clung to their faces.

Then a voice broke through again.

"I don’t have Air affinity," one of the defenders muttered. "My armor can’t absorb a fall like that. If I jump, I’m dead."

Panpan finally spoke up, her voice steady despite the tension. "If I reach the ground first, I can cast protective barriers. Enough to soften the landing for a few of us."

"I have Air Element," another added. "Even if the fall’s still dangerous, I can slow myself enough to survive. I won’t die from the height Tave described."

Then Velion stepped forward once more. "My sword can fly," he said. "I can ride it down and guide myself to the surface. I’ll go first and do what I can to catch or redirect two, maybe three of you safely. No promises. But it’s what I can offer."

One by one, others began listing their options. What skills they could use. What tools they might adapt. What little miracles they were willing to bet their lives on.

None of it was guaranteed. But it was something.

Meanwhile, the massive shadow of the jagged terrain grew closer. The enormous creature drew nearer with every passing second.

They were running out of time.

"We head for the tail," Tave called out. "It’s the safest drop point we’ll get. We have to move, now."

And just like that. As if bound by some unspoken instinct. Everyone began to move.

No orders. No arguments. Only motion.

Because choice had already left them behind. Now, there was only action.