The heat was pervasive, radiating out from the rock around her, from the open pits of flame that guttered and belched smoke in the distance and from her own suit. With a grunt of effort, Morrelia brought her twin blades forward, driving them straight into the c.h.e.s.t of the frothing demon in front of her before she stepped back, smoothly withdrawing the glimmering steel as she did so.
With a flick of her wrists, she sent the bubbling ichor of the monster hissing onto the ground where it boiled away, the stench of it rising as a vapour and clogging within her helmet. She growled. Just what she needed. Teeth bared in a rictus snarl, she seized hold of that anger, that rage, and drew it out of her belly, through her c.h.e.s.t and into her arms. It hurt. A wrenching pain that pulled at her very bones, fueling the rage and driving it to greater heights as she continued to channel it.
Up and into the arms, into her hands, then with a final shove into her blades. The two swords flared with violent red light as her anger took root in them, resonating with the metal and magnifying her anger until the rage was all she could feel, all she could see.
She didn't know how much longer it was until she came to with a start, a large, armoured hand resting on her shoulder as she stood breathing heavily surrounded by slain demons.
"You need to be more careful," came her father's voice from behind her, "it's a dangerous Skill to use without the proper precautions in place."
She nodded silently as she braced herself. It hit a moment later, the overwhelming lethargy that came with the loss of her berserker rage. Her hands began to shake and her limbs felt completely numb. It was all she could do to sheath her weapons, needing three attempts to line the first sword with her scabbard. Knowing how she felt, her father didn't say anything else, merely led her back through the lines and into camp where she lay down on the first cot she found, not even bothering to take her armour off.
Titus just chuckled as he looked down at her and she weakly flipped a hand at him in protest.
"I was just thinking of your mother," he clarified, "she was often left in this state when she channelled the rage."
He turned and sat down on a bench nearby, he own abyssal armour ringing like a softly struck bell as the plates shifted against each other. She couldn't help but frown. When was she going to get a set like that? Her own armour was excellent, of course, but her father's was the real deal, forged hundreds of years ago from the best materials the Legion had. It weighed a ton, but she was starting to feel as though she might have the strength for it. If she didn't, she soon would, given the rate her level was climbing.
The commander watched his daughter recover for a few minutes, sitting silent and simply being present. When he judged enough time had passed, he unclipped the canteen from his belt and gave it to her, nodding when she sat up to drink.
"You're recovery time is getting faster. You've levelled it up already?"
Morrelia drank greedily, pouring the lukewarm water through her faceplate, uncaring of the state of the metal.
"Take your helmet off," Titus growled, "you're just being lazy now."
She growled right back at him, and Titus couldn't help but laugh. She did listen to him, dragging the runic steel from her head and letting to drop the ground, revealing her dirt-streaked face and short cut midnight hair. Free of restrictions, she brought up the canteen again and this time Titus didn't bother until she had drunk her fill.
The was a quiet moment, or at least as quiet as it could be when surrounded by a perpetual warzone, and Morrelia decided to say something that had been on her heart ever since they had come to the third stratum.
"Father…" she said, barely tripping over the word as she had in the past, "have you been sent here as punishment? For failing to destroy the Colony?"
It certainly seemed that way to her. Titus had returned to the Iron Mountain with his Legion just as the wave was getting underway. After reporting to the brass, his troops had been whisked into someone else's command and the decorated soldier had been unceremoniously sent into the third stratum with a small detachment of troops, Morrelia included, to guard an unimportant outpost, fighting tooth and nail against the wave with far too few troops.
After a brief silence, she raised her head to find her father looking at her with an odd expression on his face.
"What?" she demanded.
He just shook his head.
"Is that what's been bothering you? I swear you've been moody ever since we got here and only now you come out and tell me?" he chuckled again, and she marked not for the first time how much freer he'd been with his emotions since they had returned. "No, I'm not being punished. Why would I be punished? I did what I could, the situation was worse than we expected, and we retreated before the risk to my legionaries became too great. The council accepted my report, it was corroborated by the junior officers and that was the end of it," he shrugged.
"But weren't you stripped of your command? You troops?"
"Of course not," he snorted. "There's a wave on girl, the troops went where they were desperately needed. I'll have my Legion back when the wave is done."
"Then what about us?" she demanded, waving a hand at the desolate nothing around them, "why have we been sent out here to the middle of nowhere to guard nothing for weeks on end?"
Titus scratched the side of his nose for a moment.
"I thought you'd already worked it out. I'd actually thought that was why you were so irritable."
Morrelia frowned.
"What are you talking abou- … mother."
The commander nodded with a wry smile on his face.
"Seems like she's not done babying you just yet. I was a little surprised when the orders came down, but it is something she would do."
"Are you telling me she sent us, and these other legionaries here, as a training camp for me?!"
"She did," he confirmed.
When he saw the rage starting to burn in her eyes, he quickly raised a hand.
"Before you get too wound up, be a little patient and I'll tell you a few things that might alleviate a little of your anger. Alright?"
With a conscious effort, she shoved her ire down and listened to what her father had to say. Seeing she'd taken control of herself, Titus went on.
"You might see this as coddling, unnecessary interference from a parent and a waste of resources," he gestured to the small camp around them, "but let me say this, we always defend this checkpoint during a wave. It may not seem like much, but if the monsters swarm through this area, they group up with other streams moving up and cause major issues to our holdings further up. To nip the problem in the bud, we deploy to several places down here to cut down the trickle before it becomes a flood. Make sense?"
Morrelia nodded, but still didn't agree. Was it important that this place be defended? Of course, what her father said made sense, but that didn't justify sending someone of his strength and experience to do the job. He was wasted here.
"Secondly," he continued, noting her dissatisfaction, "your mother did not send us here to babysit you, but to accelerate your growth."
She wanted to object and say those were basically the same thing, but she held her tongue.
"Promising Legionaries are often given opportunities like this when we see they have the potential to rise through the ranks. And before you ask, your mother and I had no part in selecting you for this accelerated program. Me being sent with you? That's likely to be your mother interfering a bit. Not that I mind though."
She frowned, thinking. If someone had put her forward for this, and it was a standard procedure.
"You're a candidate for officers training," her father confirmed before her mind could get there on its own.
"WHAT?!" she squawked.
Titus allowed the pride he felt to show on his face.
"Not many berserkers get chosen for this. Not considered stable enough. Though, I suppose your mother rising to Consul might have shifted opinions on that front a little."
Complicated emotions rose in Morrelia at hearing this. Did she deserve this sort of treatment? Was it even something she wanted? It had been her dream at one point in her life, she had worked herself to the bone to rise to her father's expectations. Now?
"I'm going to go hit something."
She pushed herself up out of the cot and shook her limbs out before grabbing her helmet and slamming it back on her head.
"You sure that's a good idea? So soon after your last rage?" Titus c.o.c.ked one brow as she stalked away.
She didn't reply and he allowed himself to crack a smile as he watched her draw her blades as she made her way back to the sounds of battle.
"We'll have to talk about your class evolution when you get back," he called.
