Episode-834
Chapter : 1667
They climbed into the machines. The hangar filled with the hiss of hydraulics and the hum of Golem Hearts waking up.
Twelve red visors lit up in the darkness.
Twelve titans stood tall.
Lloyd looked at his new squad. They were raw. They were untrained. They were unstable.
But they were alive. And they were armed.
"Welcome to Titan Squad," Lloyd said, his voice low and dangerous. "The world threw you away. Now, you are going to make the world tremble."
He turned and walked toward the exit, Spirit Jasmin falling into step behind him.
"Get used to the suits," Lloyd called back over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, we learn how to kill demons."
As the heavy blast doors closed behind him, Lloyd allowed himself a small, dark smile.
The war had changed. The age of heroes was over. The age of steel had begun.
chapter 1478: The Neural Agony
chapter 1478: The Neural Agony
The subterranean hangar, which Lloyd had affectionately and perhaps a bit ominously dubbed the "Iron Womb," was a hive of nervous, frantic energy. It was located so deep beneath the Ferrum estate that the concept of "day" and "night" had ceased to exist, replaced only by the harsh, unwavering hum of the magical ventilation systems and the cold, white glow of the alchemical floodlights. The air here was thick and heavy. It didn't smell like the clean air of the surface; it smelled of ozone, hydraulic fluid, burnt mana, and the distinct, sour scent of terrified sweat coming from the twelve survivors.
The twelve Aegis Mark II suits stood in their docking bays like silent, metal gods sleeping in their shrines. They were massive, looming twelve feet into the air, their matte-grey Star-Frost alloy armor absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. They looked heavy. They looked dangerous. And currently, they looked completely lifeless, waiting for the spark that would either wake them up or kill the person trying to wake them.
Lloyd stood on the elevated command deck, a metal platform that overlooked the entire hangar floor. He leaned against the railing, holding a mug of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago, but he kept holding it as a grounding mechanism. He looked calm, almost bored, but his eyes were sharp, tracking every movement below. Beside him stood Mina, his partner in this madness. Her face was pale, illuminated by the flickering, multi-colored light of the main control console. The console was a complex, chaotic array of Lilith Stones, brass dials, copper wiring, and crystal readouts that monitored the status of the twelve machines below.
"Neural synchronization stability is fluctuating across the board," Mina said, her voice tight with anxiety. She adjusted a dial with trembling fingers, her eyes darting between three different screens. "Lloyd, the theoretical load on their cerebral cortexes is... it’s dangerously high. We are bypassing their natural sensory filters completely. It’s going to be like trying to pour a gallon of water into a thimble in less than a second."
"It has to be," Lloyd replied, his voice calm but hard as granite. He finally put the cold coffee down. "If the connection isn't absolute, there is a lag. If there is a lag between thought and motion, even for a millisecond, they die. The Devils move at speeds that defy physics. They don't telegraph their attacks. If my pilots have to think about moving their arm, they are already dead. They need to be the arm. They need to think 'punch' and the metal needs to be moving before they finish the thought."
"I know the theory," Mina snapped, frustration leaking through her professional demeanor. She looked down at the candidates. "But the pain... the initial surge could cause permanent psychological damage. We are essentially tricking their brains into believing their bodies have expanded to twelve feet of steel instantly. The phantom pain alone could drive them mad. Their brains might think their bones are breaking because the suit's limbs are in a different position."
"They signed up for this," Lloyd said, though he knew they hadn't signed anything other than a vague agreement to not die and to get paid. "They are survivors, Mina. Their minds are calloused. They have been beaten down by life for twenty years. They can take a hit. If they break now, they would have broken on the battlefield anyway."
He leaned over the railing and keyed his microphone. His voice boomed through the hangar, echoing off the metal walls and making the technicians jump.
Chapter : 1668
"Listen up, candidates! Stop gawking at the paint job and get in the chairs! We are burning daylight, and darkness is coming! You wanted power? It's sitting right in front of you. Climb in or go home!"
Down on the hangar floor, the twelve survivors—Ren, Vala, Kaito, and nine others—were being prepped by the team of alchemists and technicians. Borin and Lyra were running around like excited children who had been given too much sugar, checking connections, tightening straps, and muttering about mana flow rates. To them, this was the greatest experiment in history. To the pilots, it felt a lot like being strapped into an electric chair that might also eat them.
Ren was the first one ready. He hadn't waited for help. He had practically dragged himself out of his wheelchair and crawled up the maintenance ladder to the cockpit of Unit 1. He didn't need encouragement. For a man who had spent his life trapped in a chair, watching the world walk by, the promise of steel legs was a drug he was desperate to take. He sat in the complex pilot's seat, allowing the technicians to secure the heavy harness over his chest. He watched with wide, hungry eyes as they attached the neural interface helmet—a sleek, terrifying crown of wires and crystals—onto his head.
"Comfortable?" Borin asked, grinning maniacally as he tightened a bolt near Ren's ear with a wrench.
"It smells like new car," Ren muttered, his hands gripping the control sticks so hard his knuckles were white. "Just turn it on. I don't care if it hurts. Just turn it on."
Vala, in Unit 2, was less enthusiastic. She was hyperventilating slightly. The cockpit was tight, claustrophobic. It smelled of recycled air, copper, and grease. The seat hugged her tightly, restricting her movement. For a girl whose survival strategy was "run away," being strapped down was terrifying. She felt like she was being buried alive in a metal coffin.
"Breathe," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. "You fit in small spaces. You are small. Small things survive. This isn't a coffin. It's a shell. It's a shell."
Kaito, in Unit 3, was checking the odds. He looked at the helmet in his hands. "Probability of brain death... non-zero," he mumbled, tapping his fingers against his thigh in a nervous rhythm. "Probability of stroke... five percent. Probability of becoming a giant robot... one hundred percent. I'll take that bet. House always wins, but today, I am the House."
The other nine candidates were in various states of readiness. Some were praying to gods they hadn't spoken to in years. Some were cursing Lloyd's name. One, a former blacksmith named Torin who had lost his shop to debt, was just staring blankly at the display screen, his face pale, accepting his fate.
"All pilots secured," Lyra shouted from the floor, giving a thumbs up to the command deck. "Canopies closing. Sealing the tombs!"
"Don't call them tombs, Lyra!" Mina shouted back, but the damage was done.
With a synchronized hiss of hydraulics and a heavy thud of locking mechanisms, the heavy chest plates of the twelve Aegis suits slid shut. The pilots were now sealed in absolute darkness, cut off from the outside world, suspended in the belly of the beasts.
"Initializing Neural Link," Lloyd announced, his voice calm and steady over the comms. "Listen to me very carefully. The Lilith Stone core is going to interface directly with your nervous system. It is going to try to tell your brain that you are the machine. Your brain is going to reject this. It is going to panic. It is going to scream that you are exploding, or stretching, or burning. It will feel like your nerves are being pulled out."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the silence of the hangar.
"Do not fight it. If you fight the connection, your brain will snap like a dry twig. You have to surrender. You have to accept the data. You have to accept that your skin is now steel. You have to accept that you weigh five tons. Clear?"
"Clear," came the ragged, distorted chorus over the comms system.
"Mina, bring the Golem Hearts online," Lloyd ordered. "Output at five percent. Do not go higher. If anyone spikes, cut them immediately."
"Bringing them online," Mina whispered. She pushed a series of runestones forward on the console.