Chrysalis

Commander Titus was a stoic man with a reputation for an Iron will and an unbreakable sense of duty. And it was true, he'd lived a hard life and had made hard choices without hesitation. Where others would shirk their responsibilities, Titus shouldered his burden with pride. For this, he was both loved and respected. The commander knew his reputation and did his best to live up to it. Square shoulders and a stern countenance were synonymous with Titus, as if his face and body had been carved from granite.

But if there was one thing that could push him to the edge of cracking, it was the person he saw coming toward him now.

The Legion had marched hard back to Railleh as the wave had waned and the shocking news of Garralosh's demise spread. The Legionaries had been in dire need of rest, but not all were able to receive it. As the technical crews, smiths and enchanters laboured long to repair worn weapons and armour, scouting parties had been dispatched to ascertain the environment within the Bulwark. Messages were sent to every outpost, ritual spells of communication were enacted to reach out to the wider Legion network and now they awaited word from their superiors.

With the wreckage of their homes weighing on their minds, Titus and his troops had been unable to rest. After the centurions had found the third party attempting to escape the barracks and venture to the surface, Titus had considered relenting and allowing a team to establish an outpost on the surface. When the fourth escape party had contained a good number of centurions, Titus finally gave the order that he himself would lead a full column to the surface. All advanced gear was left behind, only leathers and basic weaponry allowed. The soldiers were eager to be away.

Despite their victory in the lines, the soldiers' mood was grim. They knew roughly what awaited them above. A ruined city, a destroyed nation. How many of their loved ones had survived the slaughter? They pushed hard and Titus marched at their head, as relentless and unyielding as a stone. The Legionaries stuck to the main paths, as direct as they could be. What monsters they found were ruthlessly crushed.

the main tunnel, they'd heard footsteps coming down. Titus raised a fist, then pointed to his left and right. Immediately archers had moved to covered positions along the walls of the tunnel as shield bearing legionaries formed up beside him. There they had waited as the sounds of approach grew louder. Humans, by the sound of things,

normal. At his level, with his skills and class benefits, he was barely the same species as those who dwelt on the surface. He could clearly hear the footfalls of those approaching, though they were still two hundred metres away. He could make out the tone of their voices, almost the words

recognise that wasp tongue whenever he heard it. It was all he could do not to break ranks and run forward. To the soldiers around

When they did, his eyes narrowed. Farmboys and merchants' daughters with shoddy gear, no levels and little training. In normal times he'd roll them up, smack their heads and boot them out of his Dungeon, but these

he ran to his daughter. He wouldn't

Morrelia! Hey! Longtime no see!" A male

CRACK!

all directions. Shouts of alarm and confusion arose but Titus himself hadn't moved, instead he remained at ease, his hands clasped behind his back and his axe strapped

on his daughter, even if he never let it show. The young Mage felt ice cold sweat rolling down his back as he felt as if he were grasped in a giant fist. He prayed that his voice hadn't stood out too much

force, Morrelia couldn't help but sigh. She'd hoped to run into her father and her former comrades here, but it was awkward. And she knew exactly what Titus was thinking

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