[Mortis-Engine: Bio-form stabilization detected. Reanimating Titan-Class chassis. Optimal sub-system integration…] Dark-crimson light pulsed from Tassio’s outstretched hand, flowing over the prone form of the gargantuan beast. It wasn’t the searing blue of his previous raisings, but a deeper, richer hue, like solidified gloom given purpose. The ichor seeping from the severed leg began to recede, drawing back into the wound, and the metal surrounding it shimmered, twisting and reforming. Gears ground, hydraulics hissed, and the titan’s remaining leg trembled. Vellera watched in stunned silence, her body still humming with the strange, vital energy Tassio had gifted her. The techno-organic fibers he’d woven into her wound pulsed faintly under her uniform, a living mend that felt impossibly strong. She could feel the lingering phantom pain, but it was distant, muted, overwhelmed by a new, buzzing awareness of her own capabilities. Her eyes darted from the shuddering titan to Tassio, who stood casually, hands in his pockets, as if he were merely waiting for a delayed public transport. [Mortis-Engine: Chassis integration complete. Biological core reanimated. Reconfiguring neural network for subservience protocol. Threat assessment: Negative. Loyalty: Absolute. Designation: Mobile Fortress ‘Golgant’ deployed.] With a deep, resonant groan that vibrated through the very bedrock, the titan began to move. Its remaining leg pushed, grinding against the street, and a new leg, forged from shimmering, still-molten void-steel and re-knitted carapace, extruded from its torso, locking into place with a sound like a thousand collapsing buildings. It pushed itself up, slowly, ponderously, until it stood once more, an impossible mountain of techno-flesh and reforged steel. Its multiple eyes, once glowing with predatory malice, now pulsed with a soft, obedient amethyst light. “Perfect,” Tassio murmured, stretching. He glanced up at the newly dubbed behemoth. Its shoulders were broad, easily the size of a small plaza. “Alright, big guy. Let’s get comfy. Generate a command platform. Something with a view, and… plush. Very plush.” The immense creature rumbled, a low thrumming that resonated in Vellera’s chest. On its right shoulder, amidst the jagged plates and exposed conduits, a section of carapace began to shift. Spines receded, plates articulated, and a structure began to rise. It sculpted itself with impossible speed, growing into a comfortable, curved platform, lined with what looked like woven cyber-silk in a deep, dark silver. At its center, a throne materialized, complete with a footrest and armrests that flared with a subtle, protective aura. It was ludicrously opulent, perched atop a walking siege-frame of war. “Much better,” Tassio sighed, already clambering onto the titan’s back with a grace that belied his usual lethargy. He settled into the throne with an exaggerated groan, leaning back and stretching out his legs. “My lower back was really starting to ache from all that… *standing*.” Vellera stared, her expression a mix of awe and utter exasperation. “You just raised a city-destroying monster into your personal transport, and your concern is your *lower back*?” Tassio waved a dismissive hand. “Priorities, Vellera. You wouldn’t understand. The structural integrity of one’s spine is paramount.” He patted the empty space beside him. “Come on up. Plenty of room.” Vellera hesitated for only a second, then, propelled by a curious mix of annoyance and morbid fascination, scaled the titan. The new strength in her limbs made the ascent remarkably easy. She settled onto the cyber-silk platform beside the throne, choosing to sit cross-legged rather than use the footrest. The air up here was notably calm, and the view over the ruined district was expansive. “So, this creature,” Vellera said, testing the concept. “Your new pet.” Tassio’s eyes were already half-closed. “More of a mobile office. And bed, potentially. This cyber-silk is exceptionally comfortable. I might actually get some proper sleep for once.” Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek cut through the air. A Skitterwing, one of the smaller, but still vicious, flying demons, swooped down from a shattered skyscraper, its multiple eyes fixing on the immobile figures atop the colossal platform. It was a blur of chitin and razor-sharp limbs, heading straight for Tassio. Vellera’s hand snapped to the hilt of her combat blade, a reflex born of endless training. But then, a thought sparked. Tassio was settling in, about to drift off. She found herself moving without conscious thought, a surge of the new energy invigorating her. She didn’t draw her blade. Instead, she brought her enhanced fist up, channeling a raw burst of focused force. The air warped around her knuckles. The Skitterwing was still twenty meters out when Vellera’s fist impacted the air. A concentrated sonic shockwave, invisible but devastating, erupted from her point of contact. The demon burst into a cloud of iridescent particulate and shredded void-flesh, a gruesome mist that dissipated harmlessly in the wind. Tassio’s eyes remained closed. “Thanks, Vellera. That was getting loud.” A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Vellera’s lips. “Can’t have you disturbed, can we?” she said, the words laced with a biting sarcasm that didn’t quite mask the thrill of her own power. The new energy in her was truly remarkable. It felt like her body had been upgraded, every fiber singing with potential. [Mortis-Engine: Intercepted transmission detected. Origin: Planetary Core Access Conduit, Level 9. Encryption: Standard Abyssal. Authenticating…] [Mortis-Engine: Authentication complete. Live broadcast feed incoming.] A holographic projection shimmered into existence before them, a distorted, flickering image of Jorlan Kryk. He stood in a vast, dark cavern, bathed in the sickly green light of some alien flora. Behind him, hulking figures, undeniably infernal dread-commanders, were gathered, their forms indistinct but menacing. Jorlan, however, was in sharp focus, a triumphant sneer plastered across his face. He held a crystalline device, tapping it with theatrical flair. “—and with this, my lords,” Jorlan’s voice boomed, amplified and echoing through the projection, “the planetary core of Kravos will be ours! The First Builder’s foolish failsafe will be nullified, and this dimension will be perfectly anchored to the Abyss. He thought to trap you, to destroy everything, but I, Jorlan Kryk, have ensured his failure!” Tassio’s single visible eye cracked open. He stared at the projection for a moment, then sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of profound boredom. “Ugh. Still talking?” [Mortis-Engine: Re-routing audio feed to ancient maker's local output. Micro-expression analysis of Jorlan Kryk indicates elevated ego response. Recommendation: Subvert broadcast for psychological warfare.] “Oh, now that’s just rude,” Tassio drawled, a mischievous glint in his eye. He stretched again, then leaned close to the system's invisible interface. “Alright, control. Let’s give our friend Jorlan a little… feedback. A sound effect, perhaps. Something perfectly encapsulating my feelings about his monologue.” Back in the cavern, Jorlan raised his hand, gesturing dramatically to the fiends. “The master designer, your supposed nemesis, is a relic! He is weak! His armies are broken, his world undefended! Soon, Kravos will be nothing but a jewel in the crown of the Abyssal Lords, and I, Jorlan Kryk, will be your—!” A colossal, drawn-out, utterly theatrical YAWN erupted from Jorlan’s own mouth in the broadcast, amplified tenfold, drowning out his triumphant declaration. It echoed through the cavern, a sound of such profound disinterest that the towering fiends shifted, their shadowy forms radiating confusion and mild irritation. Jorlan himself froze, his face drained of color in disbelief and impotent rage. He stammered, his speech utterly derailed. Vellera snorted, a genuine laugh escaping her lips. Tassio had an infuriating way of cutting people down to size without lifting a finger. It was almost admirable. “Now, now, Jorlan,” Tassio murmured to the projection, his voice carrying only to Vellera. “Don’t look so shocked. You *were* boring.” Jorlan, finally recovering, glared at the crystalline device in his hand, then at the commanders, scrambling to regain his composure. “A-a momentary glitch, my lords! A… a sonic interference! Our ancient foe meddles, but he cannot stop us! The core anchoring drill is activated! It will burrow into the planet’s heart and fuse it to the deep rift nexus! In less than an hour, Kravos will be permanently—!” His voice cut off abruptly, the transmission dissolving into static. The vast yawn had been humiliating, but the final words had been a hammer blow. [Mortis-Engine: Core Anchoring Drill detected. Planetary core integrity diminishing. Estimated time to irreversible dimensional anchor: 00:58:32.]

The Walking Throne