Titus took another deep, slow breath, feeling the mana thunder through his body, tearing away at him from the inside. The conflict was never-ending. Much like the wave that ravaged his world, the raw arcane energy that permeated the Dungeon poured into him and sought to rend his flesh.
How long had it been since he’d sustained himself this deep? Before his children had been born. He’d been a much younger man then, in body and mind. In those days, he’d relished the struggle to master himself, to harness the power that pulsed in the veins of his post-baptism body. Now, he simply endured, patiently waiting as his condition slowly adapted to this new normal.
“You look miserable,” Minerva observed from somewhere nearby.
The commander kept his eyes closed.
“This is my normal face,” he said.
“I know.”
He felt a sharp poke on his forehead, but didn’t react, controlling his breathing instead. He’d learned a long time ago that the best way to annoy his fire-breathing monster of a wife was to simply not react. Sure enough, after he maintained his routine for another minute, he received a quick ‘paff’ to the top of his head.
“How can you sit there all day?” Minerva grumped. “If you don’t move soon you’re going to grow moss.”
“Unlike some, who were relaxing deep in the Dungeon, I’ve spent the bulk of the last twenty years on the surface, darling wife, and I need time to adapt to these conditions. I feel like a highly qualified officer in the Legion would have known that before she dragged me down here in the first place.”
“What cheek,” she harrumphed, giving him another soft thwap on the head which he barely felt.
If she wanted him to feel it, then he surely would. At least the famed berserker had learned some restraint over her tenure as Consul.
“I’m just impatient to see you in action again. You must be getting bored being cooped up in this adaptation chamber all day every day. Are you sorry I brought you down here?”
At her words, he opened his eyes finally and saw she was looking genuinely apologetic. He was taken aback slightly.
“Have you gone soft?” he demanded.
“No. This just isn’t the romantic getaway I’d been hoping for.”
He wasn’t quite sure if she was joking. It was entirely possible that Minerva did consider the two of them returning to the Dungeon’s depths to fight against the most deadly monsters a Legionary could face as a romantic getaway. It was how they’d spent the early years of their marriage, after all.
“No need to get your Praetorian armour in a twist. I think I’m pretty much ready to go.”
Despite all the time they’d been together, it still moved him to see her eyes light up.
“Really? Finally!”
She latched onto his arm and began to try and drag him from his seat.
“Well what are we waiting for? Time to suit up! Let’s go, let’s go!”
Titus did his best to prevent his wife from dragging him out of the chamber.
“Hold on a minute, Minerva. Wait, damn you!”
“What now?” she demanded, turning back to look at him.
“I need to get dressed. After that, I need to report to command. After that, I need to speak to the armoury. After that, I need to acclimate to the suit. There’s a laundry list of things I need to do before I can sortie and fight. Not all of us can jump into Praetorian armour after a ten year break without batting an eye.”
“Not my fault you can’t handle it,” she huffed.
“Nobody said it was.”
Attempting to keep up with Minerva was a waste of time, even though she didn’t see it that way. If he wanted to do his duty and perform as well as he knew he could, then he would take his time and do things by the book.
If he ran out there now, he was just as likely to chop his own foot off. Minerva had arranged for his old Praetorian suit to be delivered here, and once upon a time, that armour had been just as comfortable as his own skin, but it’d been near twenty years since he’d been inside it. Slow and steady was his way.
“Fine, fine,” his wife gave in, “have it your way. I guess I’ll go sortie and cut something to pieces to relieve some stress.”
“Good luck, dearest,” he chuckled before he pulled her in for a quick, one-armed hug. “I’ll be out there soon enough, don’t you worry. If I perform too badly, they’ll wonder why you ever married me.”
“They’d never dare,” her eyes flashed before she stepped out of the chamber and rushed off to the armoury. Idly, he wondered if there was even a group heading out, or if it mattered. It was hard to say no to a former Consul, let alone that one.
The commander flexed his hands, slowly closing them into fists and then relaxing them again.
He’d not been exposed to this much mana since… he couldn’t remember. Had there ever been a time when the density had been this high? This series of waves, which had begun just before the discovery of that ant colony, showed no signs of stopping.
Would it ever end?
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