Chapter 1190 - Old Dogs, Old Tricks pt 2 (Patreon)

“Engineer Griner?” Titus rumbled.

“That’d be me. You must be the commander?” the burly, sleeveless man said as he turned from the enormous armoured suit he’d been working on.

Titus rolled his shoulders.

“Just about everyone down here is a commander, or higher,” he noted wryly, “so why would I be, ‘the commander’.”

Griner shrugged.

“I don’t make the rules. Turns out when you command successfully down here and up there, people take notice.”

Some in the Legion thought that the soldiers stationed in the deep looked down on those fighting high in the Dungeon, but that was far from the truth. Legionaries in these depths relied on the plentiful mana and powerful techniques and equipment it enabled to fight. In the first stratum, they would be helpless.

“Titus is fine, engineer Griner. Now, I’m told you’re the man who’s been taking care of the old girl. How is she?”

The two turned and looked up at the intimidating suit of Praetorian armour looming over them. At eight metres tall, the suit wasn’t close to the largest the Legion could field, but the added bulk of thick armour certainly meant it was on the heavier side. Without a weapon or shield, the suit looked… undressed, but still presented an intimidating visage. Brought across the chest, with thick pauldrons at the shoulders and the Legionem Abyssi emblem engraved on the front. The decorative touches around the edges of the plates imbued it with a tangible sense of gravitas.

“I won’t say she’s as good as new. I’ve given it the once over, and, mechanically, she’s as sound as can be.”

“What about the mana circuits?”

“Aye, we’ve had those inspected as well. She’s been through a lot over the years, been assigned to two others after you left. Didn’t do nearly as well, but serviceable enough. Lot of wear and tear is what I’m trying to say, I guess.”

“But she’s functional? Ready to deploy?”

“Ready as she’ll ever be. Without ripping out the core and rebuilding the damn suit from scratch, we aren’t going to be able to do better than this. It won’t be too much longer before the old girl needs to be decommissioned, but for now, she’s clear to fight.”

Titus nodded gratefully, reaching out a hand to press against the cold, Abyssal iron plating.

Indomitable. It had been his Praetorian suit for almost ten years. Seeing it now was… hard to describe, like an old friend, or pet, that he’d never really thought he would meet again.

“No point in delaying. Can you help get it ready? I want to try a test run.”

“Sure thing, commander.”

Commander again. He rolled his eyes. He hoped whoever had the misfortune to take over his last command was having more luck with the troops than he was.

The two men were alone in the armoury. Unsurprising given so many of the bays were empty at the moment. Clearly Minerva had been in luck and there was a fight going on somewhere. Of the twenty open bays that held the Praetorian suits, all but three were empty.

Dim, silver light glowered from overhead, gleaming off the polished metal of Indomitable as Titus moved to the back and began to climb up the suit. He definitely had a few more twinges in his shoulders than the last time he’d done this, but it didn’t overly matter. In short order, he reached the shoulders and triggered the mechanism to open the suit.

Immediately, the back armour fell away as the head rose up, creating a gap for him to slip inside.

“Go on in and get yourself comfortable. I’ll hook up the liquid mana once you get comfortable,” Griner called up.

“Thanks,” Titus acknowledged.

Carefully, he slipped inside the enormous metal suit, closing the opening behind him. When the metal clanged shut, followed by the audible click as it locked and sealed, he became enveloped in total darkness.

It didn’t matter. He’d spent so long inside this suit, he could find what he needed without light.

He stretched out his arms, finding the panels and grips that he sought, wrapping his thick fingers around them. He settled his feet, pressing them into the paddles below, feeling them mould to the shape of his toes.

He leaned forward, pressing his face into the mask, the matrix that melded his consciousness with the armour. He tsked. Whoever been in the suit last had been a touch shorter than him, he’d need to adjust it the angle.

A hollow clang rang from the side of the armour.

“You ready in there?” came a muffled voice.

“Ready,” Titus replied.

He tensed, but had to wait a few, long moments before the sudden deluge began. The liquid mana burned like ice, froze like fire and forced pure arcane power in his veins. He gasped at the touch of it, then grit his teeth against the pain as the hollow inside the suit began to fill from his feet up.

It was agonising. His body, which had barely become adapted to the level of mana he was exposed to this deep, was flooded with more, stretching him to the point of bursting. He endured.

When it reached his waste, he called out: “that’s enough!” and the flow, which had been running down his back, slowed to a trickle, then stopped.

“I’ve disconnected the hose!” he heard from outside. “Try walking around!”

“Alright then, Titus,” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, “let’s see if you can remember how to do this.”

Without delaying any further, he pressed his face to the mask and felt his consciousness sucked from his body and suffused with dark, cold iron.