William's final warning call, “Rock formation, centre right! Reinforce starboard bow, section two!”, was met instantly by Julia's flashing blue shield. Roland grunted, angling the boat just enough. SCRAPE! They glanced hard off the rocks, clearing the last major hazard of what they’d perceived as the rapids' terrifying apex. Ahead, the churning chaos seemed to lessen marginally, the roar softening almost imperceptibly.
Hope, fragile and illogical, flickered momentarily. “Fifty yards... maybe the worst is...” Caspian began, his voice thin against the roar.
His words were choked off as the riverbed seemed to vanish beneath them. Not a clean drop, but a wide, swirling vortex opening up like a hungry maw, sucking their small boat violently towards the jagged cliff face on the left where the current boiled back on itself with ferocious power.
“VORTEX! LEFT BANK PULL!” Jett roared, already digging his paddle deep on the starboard side, fighting the suction.
Roland bellowed wordlessly, throwing his entire weight against the steering oars, muscles bulging, cords standing out on his neck. The boat spun sickeningly in the vortex's grip, threatening to broach and capsize.
“JULIA! PORT SIDE! ALL SECTIONS! HOLD IT!” William yelled, seeing the unforgiving rock face rushing towards them. MP: 85/136. William started leveraging EMMA’s capabilities more and more as the human eyes failed to keep up. EMMA performed admirably, but in doing so, its mana consumption continued to spike. Something William was consciously aware of.
Julia reacted without hesitation, mana flaring as she threw the Reinforce shield along the entire threatened port side gunwale and hull, a broader, more draining application than their targeted practice. The boat slammed sideways into the cliff – CRUNCH! The sound of stressed, protesting wood was terrifyingly loud this time. One of Roland's carefully repaired reinforcement planks visibly cracked further, splinters flying, even through Julia’s desperate shield. They scraped hard along the rock face, losing momentum, shedding fragments of Herbert’s deteriorating vessel, before the main current abruptly seized them again, spitting them violently back towards the centre channel like a rejected piece of flotsam. They were still afloat, but shaken, soaked, and had shipped a significant amount of water, sloshing around their ankles.
“Damage report!” Roland gasped, regaining control of the sluggish steering, face grim.
“Compromised plank, port side, section three! Above waterline currently, but weakened!” Jett called back instantly, his quick eyes assessing the damage. “We took on water! Boat's heavier, less responsive!”
System integrity: Further compromised, William thought, heart pounding against his ribs. That hazard wasn't predicted by the limited forward scan. Water dynamics too chaotic. Standard observation protocols insufficient for safe navigation.
And as they were violently ejected from the vortex's grip, finally rounding the bend, they saw why the earlier section now seemed relatively calm. Before them lay the true gatekeeper of Hammer Falls. The river plunged into a final, narrow chokepoint where the cliffs squeezed inwards, forcing the entire furious torrent through an impassable nightmare of house-sized boulders, churning hydraulics that threw water high into the air, and a dense lattice of ancient, snagging logs. There was no channel. No discernible path. Just a solid wall of white-water annihilation designed to pulverize anything that entered.
This time, the despair that washed over the boat was absolute, cold, and profound. Julia slumped slightly, her breathing ragged, mana clearly depleted by the sustained shield against the cliff. Caspian stared, mute with terror. Jett gripped his paddle, scanning the chaos with an expression that acknowledged utter impossibility. Even Roland seemed momentarily stunned, his grip frozen on the oars as the current pulled them inexorably towards the death trap.
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This isn't a rapid, it's a geological termination sequence, William thought, raw panic momentarily short-circuiting his analytical processes. Observation yields zero viable paths. Retreat vector: Null. Probability dictates acceptance of mission failure... NO. He slammed down the panic. Need higher resolution data. Cost irrelevant. He pushed hard against his remaining mana. EMMA! Maximum analysis! Full topographic scan below waterline! Current vector mapping! Collision probability simulation - ALL potential trajectories! Prioritize ANY path with statistically non-zero survival probability! Execute NOW! MP: 60/136.
His vision exploded into a frantic overlay of EMMA's desperate calculations. Wireframe projections flickered over the churning reality ahead. Simulated paths launched into the central chaos, red lines terminating instantly in predicted hull breaches, capsizing vectors, disintegration probabilities hovering near 100%. Path 1 Failure. Path 2 Failure. Path 3 Failure... Analysis: Direct transit through primary hazard zone statistically equivalent to deliberate self-destruction.
EMMA’s processing frantically scanned the periphery. Far right. Near the cliff wall. An irregular rock formation, angled upwards. Analysing structure... Surface angle: 35 degrees +/- 5. Flow vector simulation: Localized up-current effect detected... Calculate trajectory... Requires approach vector 18 degrees off current heading... Requires velocity increase +22% Est... Simulation predicts potential for partial airborne trajectory clearing primary rock cluster K-12 through K-18... Landing vector: Unstable. High probability (>80%) of secondary impacts post-transit... EMMA flashed the final, terrifying assessment: Path 4 (Ramp Trajectory): Survival Probability 29% (Est. +/- 4%). All other simulated paths: <0.5%.
Twenty nine percent?! A hysterical giggle threatened to bubble up. We're betting the mission, our lives, on odds worse than a lottery scratcher! But zero percent never wins. It was objectively insane. It required hitting rocks faster, trusting a theoretical bounce... but the system, the cold hard data, designated it the only option not equalling certain death. Decision locked. Execute Path 4: Operation Unlikely Trajectory.
No time left. The current was pulling them into the chokepoint's grasp.
“ROLAND! JETT!” William roared, pointing frantically towards the angled rocks on the far right, his voice raw with desperate certainty. “STEER RIGHT! THAT ROCK! IT’S A RAMP! AIM FOR IT! MAXIMUM THRUST! NOW!”
“RAMP?! ARE YOU MAD?!” Roland bellowed back, disbelief warring with ingrained command response as he stared at the solid rock face William indicated. “THAT’S SOLID ROCK! WE’LL BE SHATTERED!”
“RAMP!” William screamed, overriding the protest, pointing frantically. “RIGHT SIDE! ANGLED ROCK! ANALYSIS SHOWS A TRAJECTORY, CLEARER WATER BEYOND!” His voice was raw, desperate but utterly certain. “IT'S OUR ONLY VECTOR WITH A NON-ZERO PROBABILITY! ANY OTHER WAY FAILS! TRUST IT! GO! GO!”
Seconds stretched into an eternity. Roland stared at the terrifying wall of rock William indicated, then at William’s utterly certain, near-maniacal expression, then back at the churning death trap directly ahead. His lifetime of experience screamed impossible. William’s analysis screamed only chance. He made the call, a leap of faith against every instinct.
“RIGHT!” Roland roared back, the decision made. “JETT, PADDLE! GIVE ME EVERYTHING! DRIVE US RIGHT!”
Jett needed no second telling, digging his paddle deep, adding his strength to Roland’s furious strokes on the steering oars. The patched boat groaned, fighting the powerful current pulling it towards the central chaos, slowly, agonizingly, beginning to angle towards the improbable rock ramp.
“JULIA!” William yelled, shifting focus instantly. “BOTTOM REINFORCE! FULL HULL! SECTIONS FIVE, SIX, SEVEN! HOLD IT! HOLD IT!”
Julia, eyes wide but locked in focus, reacted instantly. Mana surged, the blue shield flaring brightly along the entire length of the boat's keel and vulnerable underside, bracing for the inevitable impact.
Caspian, white-knuckled and bracing himself near Julia, managed to add his own faint shimmer of Reinforce near the cracking plank on the port side, a tiny prayer against the forces about to hit them.
The boat surged forward, accelerating now as the channel narrowed, hurtling directly towards the unforgiving rock face. William braced himself, gripping the prow, EMMA feeding him trajectory data he barely registered through the sheer terror. Approaching ramp… vector stable… velocity increasing… hull integrity questionable… prepare for significant kinetic event… MP: 45/136.
Then, with a deafening, grinding, bone-jarring CRUNCH-SCRAAAAAAAAAAPE that seemed to rip through the very fabric of the world, the magically shielded bottom of Herbert’s abused fishing boat slammed hard onto the angled rock ramp.
