“I will now explain the process to you,” the commander said crisply, his eyes hard with determination. “Listen closely, as this will impact the rest of your life.”
He paused there to ensure he had their full attention.
“Each of you will strip down and lie in a separate pod. From the ceiling above we will release pure, condensed liquid Mana that will fill the basin until you are submerged. The fluid will be absorbed into your body, remaking it into something new. After twenty-four hours it’ll be done, and you’ll be a full Legionary.”
The trainees were staring at him as if he were insane. Liquid Mana? What the hell was that! Donnelan stood with the rest, his mind flicking at lightning speed. If Mana could be condensed into a liquid, wouldn’t it be more potent than the energy in the Dungeon? Wouldn’t they just die?
Titus could see their confusion. He did not move to reassure them.
“This process is exceedingly dangerous. It will be the most painful experience of your lives. Every cell in your body will become super saturated with Mana, tearing at the seams. There are powerful healing enchantments built into the basin. You will be ripped apart and remade constantly for a day. One in five of you will not survive.”
The deep, stern voice of Titus faded away and there was total silence as the trainees stared at their commander in shock. They had been prepared for many things, but not this.
Alberton spoke from behind them, his voice weary with sorrow. “To defeat the monsters, to protect the civilisations on the surface, the Legionem Abyssi decided that to be human was not enough. In order to overcome the Cataclysm, to make sure it would never happen again, this was the step they decided to take.”
His words fell on the young trainees like stones. This was real. It was going to happen. Fear gripped their hearts as they imagined the agony of having their very cells ripped apart for hours on end. Could they endure it?
Several thought fleetingly of running, of escaping this chamber and the insane ritual about to take place. They quickly squashed the thought. Who was that standing in the doorway, they thought bitterly. Commander Titus. He was a legend in the Legion. If all of them unleashed their most powerful skills at once, would they shave even one HP from him?
“Nobody is forced to take the ritual,” Titus announced grimly, bringing relief to the trainees. Before they could start to celebrate, he pulled the short sword on his hip from its sheath and gripped it tightly in his right hand.
“But you cannot know the Legion’s secrets and not be one of us. If you wish to spare yourself the suffering, step forward and I will give you a quick end.”
Alberton found Titus staring at the wall outside the ritual chamber, as he always did once the trainees had begun their transformation. Once the process was done, they would be remade into an entirely new species. No longer human, but Legion.
They could delve farther into the Dungeon than anyone else could hope to, able to tolerate levels of Mana saturation beyond what a normal person could ever dream. They would be able to take the fight directly to the monsters, able to chase them down wherever they chose to hide. That was what it meant to join the Abyssal Legion.
This had been done for thousands of years, all over Pangera. The secrets of the first Legionaries had been kept ever since those days. As Loremaster, it was Alberton’s role to keep the histories of those days. The determination, the sheer will of those men and women had remained within their spirit to this day.
That didn’t mean they liked it.
Screams echoed through the chamber now. Down the corridors and up the stairs. On and on, endless screaming. Alberton could well remember what it had been like. He still experienced it in his nightmares, his throat ripping apart from the force of his shrieks only to be instantly healed, allowing him to scream some more.
Amidst the howls of agony, a tap, tap, tap of chisel on stone could faintly be heard as Alberton approached his friend.
As he drew closer, the memorial wall became clear. Thousands of names had been written here by Legion Commanders through the centuries since this base had been established. Titus knelt, his hands steady as he added one more name to the bottom of the list.
Alberton felt his heart twist with pain. The Legion did everything they possibly could to test their new trainees before they reached this point. Anyone they didn’t think would be willing to undergo the baptism had been separated, recommended to other forces and placed in the Auxiliary or other surface teams that were not required to delve. Even though the trainees didn’t know it, they had been forensically examined for years before they reached this point.
The Legion didn’t want to have the blood of their own people on their hands. Unfortunately, no system was perfect.
Trelik had been unwilling to undergo the baptism and accepted Titus’ offer.
Now the commander knelt and added his name to the wall, along with every other trainee who had not survived the final trial. Tomorrow, the baptism would be over and Titus would have to kneel here again.
It was impossible to converse with the horrific cries of their own people ringing in their ears. Instead, Alberton walked beside his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder as he let his eyes roam over the names on the wall.
The Legion was the front line against the Dungeon. None fought harder or delved deeper than they. To achieve this, they had been called on to relentlessly sacrifice. None more so than Titus.
Alberton let his gaze rest on one name in particular. Romanus.
How must it have felt… when the commander had carved his only son’s name into this wall?
90. The World Below, Part 3
Her hands hurt like hell.
Mirryn leaned against the parapet of the Legion HQ and took in the view, resting her forearms on the stone.
“How are you holding up?” a voice came nearby.
Mirryn turned to see Donnelan approaching from along the wall.
“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she asked him.
“Not a chance in hell,” he muttered.
Neither of them wanted to talk about their baptism, but they couldn’t help thinking about it. When they had finally been taken out of the basin, the trainees immediately lost consciousness, their minds no longer supported by the complex enchantments that had surrounded them.
Upon awakening, they learned that three of their friends died during the process.
All things considered, it wasn’t a bad number. Below average. She could see the relief in the officer’s faces that they hadn’t lost more. It seemed stupid, to be thankful of only three deaths, though she understood their logic. Would the situation be somehow better if four had died?
No.
The commander and the rest of the Legionaries had been by to visit them in the days since. The trainees had been placed in a convalescence unit, comfy beds, good food, medical staff around the clock, counselling specialists, the works.
On the surface, Mirryn would have been shocked to think of the cost of the lavish treatment. The Legion was legendarily thrifty, they made most of their own equipment, ate nutritious but brutally unflavoured food. It was a regular sight for the trainees to be seen cleaning their leathers and polishing their swords outside the barracks in the dawn light right next to their officers.
The trainees were learning just how many things they had thought they’d known had been an elaborate deception. The Abyssal Legion they thought they’d known, the Dungeon they’d thought they’d known, indeed, the world they thought they had lived in, were so far from the truth.