"Turn right, Sabrun! Right! That's the way home!"Desmond shouted in the midst of the swirling void. He wasn't running; he was swimming through the air, fighting the strong currents of the river of time, its colors blinding to the eye. His body was being pulled in every direction, as if gravity were drunk."Can't do it, Boss! The steering is jammed! There's a giant firewall at the 2025 coordinates! The signal is blocked!""Break through it with the Grail's energy!" Desmond raised his right hand. A ball of purple energy—the remnants of the Holy Grail and Victor's power—shone brightly, trying to burn through the transparent wall blocking his way home. "I have a god-tier battery now! Nothing can stop me!"BOOM!Desmond fired the purple beam. The wall of time in front of him vibrated, cracking slightly to reveal a fleeting glimpse of a modern city—neon lights, flying cars, anomalous creatures, and his messy apartment. And the shadow of his si

SPLASH!Cold, fishy-smelling water drenched Desmond's face, forcing him to wake from his unconscious state. He coughed, spitting out the remaining dust from his journey. His eyes stung, but he forced them open.He was no longer in the wagon. He was in the middle of an oval-shaped sandy arena surrounded by high stone walls. The midday sun burned the skin of his naked back. Around him, dozens of other men—slaves, prisoners of war, criminals—stood trembling or sat hugging their knees."Wake up, Trash!"The sound of a whip cracked in the air. CRACK!A dark-skinned giant with burn scars covering half his face stood before them. He held a leather whip in one hand and a heavy wooden staff in the other. His muscles looked as if they were carved from granite.He was the Doctore—the Head Trainer of the Ludus."My name is Spartacus... no, just kidding," the man grinned cruelly, revealing gold teeth. "My name is Crixus. And starting

"You look much cleaner without someone else's blood splattered across your face, Gladiator. But those eyes of yours... they remain untamed."Desmond turned to face Marcus Lucullus, who stood beside him on the balcony of the Palatine Hill palace. They overlooked the city of Rome, glittering in the night. Behind them, the sounds of drunken laughter, the clinking of golden goblets, and music filled Emperor Augustus's private banquet hall."I’ve been scrubbed, oiled, and dressed in this," Desmond replied flatly, tugging at the collar of his tunic that felt like a noose. "I feel more like a sacrificial lamb than a guest of honor.""You are both," Marcus took a sip of his wine, a thin smile playing on his lips. "Tonight, you are the main attraction. The senators, generals, and their wives—they all want a close look at the 'Beast Tamer.' Don't embarrass me, Desmond. Or it’s back to the pigsty for you.""Relax, General," Desmond swiped a goblet of wine from a passing slave's tray. "I know how

"Don't stand so tall. You are not a statue; you are a shadow."Livia Drusilla whispered without turning her head, her eyes remaining fixed on the papyrus scroll in her lap. She sat in the private garden of her villa, surrounded by statues of gods and the gentle trickle of fountains.Desmond, now dressed in a plain black linen tunic—the uniform of a high-ranking personal servant—relaxed his shoulders slightly. He stood two steps behind Livia, a strategic position to see anyone approaching, yet a submissive one in the eyes of outsiders."Apologies, Mistress," Desmond replied quietly. "Old habits. In the arena, if I bowed, I’d lose my head.""Here, it is the same," Livia rolled up the papyrus, then handed it backward without looking. Desmond caught it deftly. "Except it is not swords that behead you, but gossip. Burn that letter. It contains a list of Senator Cicero's shameful debts. We no longer need that evidence after tonight."Desmond crushed the scroll in his grip. The target was lo

"Sit."The command was brief, quiet, and devoid of any overt threat.Desmond sat on the single wooden chair placed in the center of the spacious, dimly lit room. There were no lavish decorations here. Only a work desk cluttered with maps, a bust of Julius Caesar staring coldly from the corner, and Emperor Augustus peeling an apple with a small knife.Behind Augustus stood the Old Sorcerer in black robes. His eyes were blindfolded with a cloth, but in his hands, he held a clear crystal ball that pulsed with a faint blue light."Comfortable?" Augustus asked without looking up."The chair is a bit hard, Your Majesty," Desmond replied casually, crossing his legs. "But it’s softer than the cell floor.""Good," Augustus sliced a piece of apple and ate it slowly. "Do you know why you are here, Desmond? Or should I call you... 'The Phantom Assassin'?"Desmond didn't blink. His heart wanted to race from the adrenaline, but he held it back."Sabrun, status on that mage?""That's a 'Truth Seeker