Only victory was possible this day. The Legion’s might was on the march; nothing could stand in their way.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
The steady march of the massed ranks was precise as a drum beat, their metal boots slamming into the fresh stone in perfect sync.
“Shieeeeelds high!” roared the centurions.
“HAH!” bellowed the soldiers as the front ranks hoisted their shields higher, till the top edge sat just below their eye line.
It felt as if the world was ending over their heads. A rain of fire and death the likes of which these Legionaries may never see again.
In front of Rianus, the great tree loomed. Kilometres high, as thick as a castle, it was a monstrous thing to behold. Fitting, seeing as it was a monster. A living creature, born from mana to enact the Dungeon’s will. Today would be its last.
“BRACE!” the centurions shouted in unison.
Though he saw nothing, Rianus and every Legionary down the line acted instantly. They stopped the march, dug in their heels, and brought their free hands up to support the shields in front.
Not a moment too soon.
A tangle of roots erupted through the stone in front of them, vicious ropes of plant matter as strong as steel whipping at them, trying to curl over their shields and cut through their armour.
“ATTACK!” came the order.
Rianus dropped his right hand and snatched his gladius from its sheath. With reflexes beyond those of a mortal, he slashed out five times in under a second, the enchanted and hardened Abyssal steel of his blade slicing through the roots like butter. With a shout, he Dashed, hundreds of kilograms of Legionary killing machine launching forward, shield high and blade nothing more than a flicker of light.
Up and down the line, hundreds of Legionaries engaged with the plants, cutting them down as they appeared, but the tree wasn’t done.
Something pushed up the water on either side of the ramp, a vast presence rising from the depths. A tremendous amount of water bulged upward as enormous pods breached the surface, splitting open as they did so.
A wave of green gas emerged and swept over the Legionaries in an instant, but that didn’t sway them. With their modified physiology and the protections of their armour, they were nearly immune to poison. What took Rianus’ focus was the many rows of serrated needles nestled within the flesh of the flowers.
“SHIELDS HIGH!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. The moment he got his shield up, he felt a rapid series of impacts that forced his arm up against his chest plate. With his view blocked, the vines emerged once more to curl around and try to slide inside his armour, but he was vigilant. The gladius slashed out, cutting away the seeking roots while he endured the barrage.
A moment later, the pods were struck by precise artillery fire, exploding in a burst of flame that caused hunks of smouldering plant matter to rain down over the bridge.
Once more, the Legionaries braced themselves and began to advance across the gap that separated them from the trunk of the tree. The monster clearly didn’t want them to approach, and Rianus was alert, expecting more tricks with every step.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t another attack until they had almost reached the other side. Rising from beneath the titanic roots came an unorganised mob of creatures that could only be described as gnarled trees come to life. Amongst them were enormous, lumbering figures, twice as tall as the others.
These must be the ‘children’ the tree had been producing.
The new creatures strode forward, determination and rage brimming from every inch of their frames.
Rianus grinned as he advanced in lockstep with his brothers and sisters of the Legion, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade.
This would be fun.
156. Tree Fall, Part 3
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Slowly. Patience was required. The sharpest blade couldn’t be forged in a day. The metal had to be unearthed, refined, smelted, shaped, heated, and cooled over and over again until the final temper had been achieved. The perfect weapon was the work of a lifetime.
And so was Orrina.
She was the Legion’s weapon, its sharpest and most perfect. She had been forged over many years, placed in the fire, moulded, quenched, then thrown back into the heat once more.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
As she repeated the mantra and controlled the air that flowed into her body, so too did she influence the mana around her. It pulsed, rising and falling along with her lungs. Vast quantities rushed into her body, were contained, and then released. Each time she drew it in, the energy within her grew that little bit more rich, more vibrant. It wouldn’t be long now.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Deeper and deeper she sank. Her worries fell away. Her past fell away. Her joy. Her sorrow. With each breath, more pieces of her heart and mind were released into the dark where they could not reach her. All that would remain was the pure core: her instincts, her training, and her unending warrior spirit. She honed her mind as the blade was honed, until it reached the perfect, razor’s edge.
The aura that rolled off her in dense waves felt as if it would cut the air. None dared to approach.
A final time.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
The mana roared through her body now in a violent torrent. A storm of energy that begged for release. Her mind had been reduced to the point of a blade; nothing remained to cloud her judgement. It was time.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Thick, moulded plates of steel stood before her. An impossible construct of complexity and engineering so profound it was nothing short of a miracle. A fitting partner for her. She was the greatest the Legion could produce, an example of martial perfection. Her equipment should match.
In the distant parts of her mind, she knew her peers were engaged in the same ritual as she. Those thoughts were ignored, allowed to drift away without touching her singular focus. With measured steps, she moved to her armour, her balance effortlessly perfect. A ladder had been prepared, but she didn’t need it, she simply vaulted up to land on the wide pauldron and look down.
Blue. So blue it hurt to look at. A shimmering pool of intense light, so vibrant and filled with power it almost overwhelmed her senses.
Liquid mana.
One last time. Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Orrina placed her hands on either side of the opening and smoothly lowered herself in, plunging herself into the liquid in one motion.
Agony.
The concentrated mana flooded her pores, seeping into her body and threatening to rip her apart. But it didn’t happen. The vast rivers of magic that flowed through her came into contact with this new power source and found a delicate equilibrium. If she were any less saturated with mana, she would have died the moment she dropped in, but this was far from the first time for her.
With practiced ease, even submerged as she was, Orrina found the straps that bound her in place, tying them off expertly before she reached up to pull the opening shut above her, sealing herself in.
The armour hummed to life.
Pressed against the unspeakably detailed enchanted matrix, she could feel herself meld with the metal, her unique Skills, possessed only by the chosen few within the Legion, coming alive. The pain continued, but she didn’t feel it; these were the moments she lived for.