Chương 58: Primus Pilus

Lio eased a single eye open to watch. The ground beneath Senna's feet began to glow, thick geometric lines carving themselves into the cobblestones. As the streaks of light intersected and locked into place, the shape slowly revealed itself. A pentacle. Its diameter was about ten feet across, the inner pentagram filled with symbols that Lio couldn't decipher. He'd remembered trying to study them in previous loops, but he'd always failed to make even sense of a singular symbol.

These weren't anything like Eigo or any humane language. In fact, Lio suspected that they were something even more ancient. Lamb retreated slowly, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the stiletto he'd just scavenged back from the dirt. The last of his mania had evaporated, replaced with caution as he studied the charred lines of the strange symbol on the ground. Then, the center of the pentacle flashed.

Without even a sound of breaking stone, the cobblestones there simply disappeared, fading away in a split-second to reveal a bottomless, ink-black void. The outer circle's sigils blazed to their full intensity, flooding the street with a brilliance that drowned out the orange light from the surrounding fires. Suddenly, the air was filled with the musty, earthy scent of pine needles. From that void, a creature arose. It emerged, nearly fifteen feet high, its body constructed of plates of scorched brass.

As it rose, four arms unfolded from its torsor. Where a face should have been, there was only a single vertical slit that throbbed with a rhythmic, white-hot glow. Each of its four arms carried a different weapon. In its upper right hand was an iron spatha, a greatsword whose blade alone was nearly ten feet long. A scutum was slung around his upper left, a tower shield of dark bronze. Its lower arms carried a gold cestus in its left and a silver pilum in its right, the metal glowing white-hot.

Straightening up on the pentacle, it faced towards Senna, and immediately brought all four arms down, setting the greatsword, tower shield, cestus, and pilum on the cobblestones. Then the massive body followed, the head bowing until its forehead touched the ground. It prostrated itself before Senna.

"My Contractor," it said, its voice a harsh, metallic rasp.

"Please, your orders." Senna stared up at the creature. Her eyes were open, but they were seeing nothing. The irises had gone completely white, and the tears running from them were no longer clear. They were black, hissing as they dripped down and touched the cobblestone. She turned around, and pointed. To where Lamb was standing.

"Kill him," Senna ordered in a quiet voice.

"Of course, Contractor." It stood up from its prostration, rising to its full height. It banged the scutum across its chest in a salute, the dark brass ringing out with peals that sounded like a war drum.

"I am called Torquatos," it announced.

"Primus Pilus of the Praesepe Legion. First Spear of Great Duke Alloces. He who drove Oedipus's Spear through the chest of the Worm-Prophet Cato and pinned his throne to the wall behind him."

"I have been called from my rest," Torquatos adjusted his grip on the spatha.

"to stand before my Contractor's enemy." There was a short pause as he cocked his head, a silent aura of mockery emanating from the dark slit of its helm.

"You are very small," it observed. It raised the pilum.

"This will not take long." Lamb snarled, the weariness retreating back from his eyes. Whatever remained of his rational mind quickly dissolved, leaving behind only feral instinct. He looked up at Torquatos, then immediately charged. Lio looked on from where he was bleeding out on the cobblestones. What stupid bravery. Torquatos watched Lamb close the distance, not even preparing his weapons, acting as if it was merely inspecting an annoying insect. Lamb bounded up, going for the knee joint.

It was the correct instinct, as it was the only place on an armored giant that an assassin's stiletto could reasonably hope to find purchase. But when he stabbed the stiletto in… The blade snapped. The mythical brass of Torquatos's armor was too much for the weapon, already worn by the countless 500% amplifications of [Absolute Slaughter]. Lamb looked down at his broken weapon, confusion briefly flashing across his features.

Then Torquatos pulled back its lower left arm—the one with the cestus—and swung in a sharp hook. The blow slammed into Lamb's left side, sending him skipping and cartwheeling across the cobblestones before he crashed into the base of a burning stall with enough force to bring the entire structure down on him. For a moment, there was no movement in the wreckage. Then the debris budged, and Lamb somehow managed to drag himself out from under the collapsed stall.

His left arm was twisted horribly, every bone in it having been shattered. There was also a deep gash across his forehead, gushing so much blood down his face that it was a miracle he could even see. He stood up, shaking violently, pain etched across his features. Torquatos stepped closer, regarding him with its helm tilted. It raised the pilum, pressing it against Lamb's chest.

"Die, young one," Torquatos said. It stabbed forward— Suddenly, Senna gave a strangled cry. Lio lunged forward. Ignoring the hot, sticky blood pouring from his own wounds, he managed to catch her before she hit the cobblestones. Cradling her in his arms, he looked down at her. She was dead weight, lying limp in his arms, her head lolling back. Her face was a sickly grey, pale and clammy, and her hitched breathing was rough and shallow. Lio had known that this would happen.

Senna just wasn't capable of using the [Solomon's Key] rune without consequence at her current level. The contract it demanded scaled with the creature summoned, and a Primus Pilus like Torquatos was certainly not a minor arcane entity. Lio's brows furrowed, pressing two fingers to her neck, checking her pulse. It was still there. Weak, but there. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. He looked up. Above them, Torquatos was frozen, like a bronze statue.

The pilum remained leveled at Lamb's chest, but the terrifying life force was gone from the brass. Lio sighed. He knew what was happening. When Senna lost consciousness before formally releasing her summon, [Solomon's Key] didn't simply 'desummon' her summon. Instead, it let it loose from the contract for some time. So for a few minutes, the Primus Pilus would be a free agent of the deep arcane. But as Lio had already been anticipating this development, he was also prepared to deal with it.

He eased Senna down against the front step of her house, propping her head so that she was in a comfortable position. Then he stood back up, and quickly inspected himself. His shoulder wound was still bleeding freely, and his legs were not entirely cooperative, but he had fought before in much worse conditions than this. It was fine. Meanwhile, Lamb had finally run out of whatever furious reserves had been keeping him upright.

Without Torquatos's pilum to hold him in place, he hit the ground with a wet thud, lying there on the ground in a broken tangle of limbs. On the other side, the giant began to move again, lowering the pilum. Then, the enormous brass head rotated toward Lio.

"A spectator," Torquatos observed, in a grating voice.

"I remember that you were bleeding out in the cobblestones." Lio smirked.

"I was."

"It appears that you have recovered?"

"Yes." Lio nodded.

"I'm all okay now." Torquatos regarded him for a moment, then turned towards the unconscious Senna.

"As the Contractor has lost consciousness," it said.

"My contract has been suspended."

"Has it?" Torquatos chuckled, a deep, mocking noise coming from deep within the metalwork.

"Is it stupidity, mortal, that you are not scared?" the giant asked. The white-hot slit on its helm flared.

"Or is it some sort of misplaced bravery?" A lopsided smile tugged at the edge of Lio's lips.

"Probably both." He drew his Adamantine knife, pressing the blade against his already wounded forearm. And then he slashed, activating [Pyrolysis] at the same time. The blue-gold flames roared to life, racing up the blade and spreading across his arm in thick hungry coils, until the entire right side of his body was wreathed in fire.

"The Primus Pilus of Iron, was it?" Lio lifted the blade, pointing it at Torquatos. He spat a bit of coppery blood onto the cobbles.

"Fine. You're masterless, and I'm bored. I challenge you to a duel." Torquatos laughed, the sound not anything close to humane.

"A duel…" It cocked its head, pausing as if to taste the word.

"You, mortal, dare to challenge me?"

"Yes," Lio said. The warmth left Torquatos's voice.

"You look at me," it said quietly, "as though I am something you are humoring." Lio said nothing.

"I have stood on fields where the dead were stacked higher than the treeline," Torquatos continued.

"I have killed and destroyed thousands. I am not something you can fight, mortal." He spat out the last sentence.

"Simply because you are bored." Lio looked up at the enormous brass figure, at the slit on the helm, which was burning with barely restrained fury. Then he shrugged.

"I know."

"Then why," Torquatos said, "are you still smiling?" Lio grinned even wider.

"Just because." He activated [Mach Heart], just as the giant charged forward. Using the burst, Lio dodged the spatha that came down, the blade carving a crater deep into the cobblestones where he'd been standing. Dashing back while bringing out his knife, Lio activated [Isopolity]. The Adamantine knife blurred into five copies, all of them blazing with [Pyrolysis] flames, and he sent three forward simultaneously at Torquatos's right shoulder, easily punching through the brass.

The [Pyrolysis] flames poured in through the wounds, the metal around the area beginning to change color, turning from a dull orange to a searing white as the supernatural fire filled it with the blue-gold heat. Then the shoulder joint detonated, the explosion tearing the upper right arm free off, along with the spatha in its hands. The severed arm spun across the street, crashing into the wall of a nearby fungal building. Torquatos looked at the smoking crater where its shoulder had been.

"Interesting," it muttered. This time, it raised the scutum and swung it, using the tower shield as a bludgeon rather than a defense. Lio dropped flat onto his stomach, letting the shield swing harmlessly above him. Then, from the ground, he activated [Mach Heart]. With the blast sending him directly towards Torquatos's legs, he sent two knife copies into the left knee joint from different angles, feeding [Pyrolysis] into the area. And just like the upper right arm, the knee joint went white-hot.

Then it blew outward. Torquatos staggered, its freshly amputated leg flying away into the distance. The titan lurched, nearly toppling down, but managed to jam the edge of its scutum into the cobblestones. The shield bit deep into the street, acting as a makeshift crutch. The Primus fixed its gaze on Lio, the mockery that had previously saturated its voice now gone.

"So," the titan rumbled.

"You were not merely humoring me, mortal?" Lio recalled the five knives back.

"Nope."

"I see." Torquatos stabbed forward with the pilum. Lio dodged to the side, sending all the knives in a final volley toward the joint connecting the helmet to the torso. All five punched into the target. The neck joint detonated. The explosion was the largest of the four, the accumulated heat from the previous strikes having already weakened the surrounding structure.

The helmet didn't rip off entirely, but it did come to rest at an irreversible angle, held only by a few remaining strands of twisted brass, the white-hot slit now pointing at the sky. Torquatos stumbled backwards, crashing down onto a nearby building. The fungal structure groaned under the weight, an avalanche of dust and debris falling down. The remaining arms lowered slowly, the cestus and the scutum leaving its grasp and falling onto the ground with a ear-deafening clang.

Lio walked over to stand in front of it, extinguishing [Pyrolysis], while deactivating [Isopolity]. Torquatos stared at him. The once blinding, white-hot slit in its helm had faded to a dull orange, and the pulse behind it was slow and irregular. When the giant spoke, its bellowing voice had been reduced to a dry whisper.

"I must offer a warrior's apology," it said.

"I was mistaken. It was I who was unworthy of the battle." Lio said nothing.

"You are my Contractor's companion, are you not?" the titan continued to rasp.

"I can feel her feelings. She has chosen you, mortal. For better or for worse." Lio eyed him indifferently.

"It's for the worse, Torquatos." The giant's head tilted back, the gears inside giving one last, tired click.

"I see." The slit flared one final time, then went out. Torquatos was dead. Lio didn't linger around to pay his respects. He whirled around and retreated, eyes locked on the hollow shell of the Primus Pilus as he backed away. When [Solomon's Key] released a summon after the contractor lost consciousness, the arcane entity didn't simply vanish. The deep arcane didn't permit easy returns. Whatever had been called up had to go back down, and the process of going back down was not exactly gentle.

To put it simply: Torquatos was about to explode. Lio kept a good pace, only stopping when he had put a good distance between himself and the brass giant. All things considered, the night had gone rather well. He rolled his shoulder, testing the damage, and decided that the Prosperous Mantle was already worth every bit of trouble it had cost him. Even now, drained and battered, his body temperature remained at a perfect equilibrium.

He was nearing the edge of the blast area when the sound of brisk footsteps reached him. Turning around, his brows furrowed. Well, he thought, that's one unlucky— Ophila rounded the corner in a run, her coat half unbuttoned and her braid disheveled. She skidded to a dead stop, shock washing over her features as her gold-ringed eyes found the fifteen feet monstrosity made of scorched brass. Her mouth dropped open, her gaze darting from the four arms to the ruined helm. Then, she saw Lio.

She took a step towards him, her lips parting to shout his name. Cold shot through Lio's veins, as frigid and bitter as ice water. Why is she—? Lio lunged forward, his wounded legs screaming in protest as he threw himself toward her. Then Torquatos exploded.