"This sea is boring. Just water, salt, and the vomit of your soldiers."Desmond leaned against the railing of the Roman Trireme, staring out at the pitch-black Mediterranean horizon. The sea breeze whipped through his hair, carrying the heavy scent of brine.Beside him, Marcus Lucullus was cleaning his sword with a piece of silk, his face sour as he fought off seasickness."This is not a pleasure cruise, Desmond," Marcus grumbled. "We are transporting supplies for the legions in Judea. And you... you are only here because the Emperor wants you far away from his wife.""Or maybe because he knows I'm the only one who can keep you alive," Desmond retorted casually. "Look at your men. Half of them are drunk on wine, the other half are seasick. If there were an attack right now, we'd be fish bait.""Attack?" Marcus laughed dismissively. "This is a secure Roman route! Who would dare attack a ship flying the Golden Eagle?"SHWUNG!A flaming arrow streaked out of the darkness, embedding itsel

"This sewer smells worse than Marcus's mouth."Desmond covered his nose with the hem of a ragged cloak he had stolen from a clothesline in an outlying village. His feet were submerged in knee-deep water."Quiet," Miriam hissed from in front of him. She held a small torch, its flame kept to the absolute minimum. "This isn't a sewer. This is Hezekiah's Tunnel. An ancient aqueduct that brought life to Jerusalem when it was besieged by Assyria. You should be grateful.""I'd be grateful if there was soap," Desmond grumbled, stepping carefully on the slippery stones. "So, how much further do we have to crawl like gutter rats?""Until we are directly beneath the Lower City," Miriam answered without turning back. "Roman patrols guard all the main gates. Marcus has surely distributed sketches of your face to every guard post. This path is the only one they don't know about.""Sabrun, sonar active?""Active, Boss. The structure above us is extremely dense. Lots of cavities, lots of secret passa

"I like those odds," Desmond muttered.He took a step forward. He didn't hesitate. He bent down and plunged his right hand straight into the box."Don't!" Miriam whispered.Desmond grabbed the stone.SIZZLE!The sound of searing flesh was audible in the silent room. White smoke billowed from between Desmond's fingers. The smell of burnt protein filled the air."ARGH!" Desmond growled low, his teeth grinding together.The pain was excruciating. It felt like holding a miniature sun. The nerves in his palm screamed as they died.But Desmond didn't let go.He closed his eyes. He activated Physical Mastery at a cellular level."DON'T FIGHT IT! ABSORB IT! EAT THE HEAT!" Desmond screamed in his mind.He visualized the heat not as an enemy, but as food. He was a Demon. Fire was his home.The muscles in Desmond's arm tensed, veins bulging and turning glowing red beneath his skin, as if

But before they could make a break for it, another explosion ripped through the air.BOOM!A giant fireball slammed into the Shield of David on the far side. Of course, it didn't penetrate, but the vibrations shook the ground beneath them.Marcus Lucullus had arrived with an Onager—a massive Roman catapult. He didn't care about magic. He wanted to level this place."Focus fire on that man!" Marcus shouted from the distance, pointing straight at Desmond.A rain of stones and flaming arrows began to fall."Run!" Desmond screamed.They sprinted along the edge of the Temple walls, searching for the cave opening, while above them, Caiaphas continued chanting prayers to reinforce the shield, and behind them, the Roman war machine began spewing death."Desmond!" Miriam shouted mid-run. "If we enter the Well of Souls... you must know one thing!""What?!""It's called the Well of Souls for a reason! Down there... the voices of the dead are incredibly loud! Do not listen to them!""I'm used to

"Back, Miriam. This bridge isn't wide enough for three."Desmond shoved Miriam behind him. They stood on a narrow natural stone bridge, barely two paces wide, spanning a bottomless dark chasm. Down below, the wind howled like the breath of a sleeping giant.At the other end of the bridge, Marcus Lucullus stood blocking the exit.The red wolf statue in his left hand pulsed, as if his heart was beating outside his body."Where are you going to run, Desmond?" Marcus stepped forward. Each step left a scorched footprint on the stone. "To Livia's arms? To the future you promised her? No. Your future ends in this abyss.""You're pathetic, Marcus," Desmond shook his head, standing casually though his muscles tensed for battle. "You are a Legion General. You have wealth, power, armies. But you throw it all away just because... of jealousy?""JEALOUSY?!" Marcus shouted. His voice cracked, turning into a growl. "This isn't jealousy! This is about Right! I served Rome all my life! I gave my blood