The battlefield did not fall silent.If anything, it felt louder than before, even without a single sword being raised.As expected, the Senate army did not break and flee simply because Ares Valen had revealed divine power. Fear passed through their ranks like a cold wind, sharp and unsettling, but fear alone had never been enough to destroy Rome. Not an empire forged through centuries of war, betrayal, and bloodshed.Rome did not kneel easily.It never had.And if Ares Valen truly intended to establish his dominion on this land, then Rome’s strength had to be claimed in its entirety. Its soldiers. Its wealth. Its faith. Nothing could be wasted. Nothing could be spared. Even the smallest fragment mattered.Yet conquest was not always achieved through endless slaughter.Sometimes, the most effective victory came from a single moment that crushed all hope of resistance.Sometimes, power had to be displayed so completely that the idea of rebellion died before it could even form.“Hmph.”

“Jupiter…”The name left Marcellus’s lips before he could stop it. It was not spoken loudly. It was not meant for anyone else to hear. It slipped out the way a prayer does, raw and unguarded, pulled straight from somewhere deep in his chest.The Sword of Rome.He repeated the title silently, letting it echo in his mind. Slowly. Carefully. Each word carried weight. Not just honor, but years of bloodshed, faith tested under fire, and decisions that had crushed men weaker than him.Ahead of him stood the figure.Bathed in blinding sunlight, tall and unmoving, it felt less like a man and more like something eternal. The light wrapped around the figure so fiercely that it almost hurt to look at. The air itself seemed different there, heavier, charged with something unseen.Sacred.Alive.Marcellus felt his hands tremble. His breathing faltered for a moment. His heart pounded hard enough that he thought others might hear it.It was not fear.Fear had never made his hands shake like this.Th

The moment Ares Valen stepped through the portal, the world seemed to hesitate.For a brief instant, everything felt suspended, as if time itself had stopped to watch him arrive. Then the air shifted, and the world exhaled.Light bent around his form, soft and fluid, as though reality needed a heartbeat to remember its shape. Beneath his boots, a narrow river flowed quietly, clear and winding, its surface catching the last golden traces of the setting sun. The water moved with an unhurried grace, carrying strands of aquatic plants that drifted lazily below the surface. Their long green leaves waved like silk ribbons, roots gripping the riverbed as if reluctant to let go.Along the banks, tall reeds leaned toward one another, rustling faintly in the breeze. The sound was gentle, almost intimate, like whispers shared between old friends.The air was warm. Too warm for dusk.It carried a faint sweetness that lingered on the tongue, a blend of crushed olives, sun-baked stone, and dust tha

“Long live the Holy Emperor!”“Long live the Holy Roman Empire!”“War! War! War!”The cries swept across the plains like rolling thunder that refused to fade. They rose, fell, then surged again, carried by the cold wind beneath a sky heavy with dark clouds. Beneath that sky stood one hundred and seventy thousand soldiers of the Holy Legion, packed tightly in disciplined formations. Their banners snapped sharply overhead. Their armor reflected what little light remained, cold and merciless.Ahead of them stood Rome.The city did not simply exist. It dominated the land before it. Towering walls rose more than thirty meters high, built from massive slabs of slate fitted together with ancient precision. Every stone told a story of past wars and stubborn survival. Eighty three watchtowers pierced the skyline, and atop each one waited ballistae and stone-throwing engines, silent and patient like beasts lying in ambush.Creak.Creak.The sound was slow and deliberate.The war machines were a

“Ah!”The cry barely echoed before it was swallowed by the noise of war.At the base of the towering city wall, bodies lay everywhere. They were piled so densely that the ground itself had disappeared beneath them. Broken limbs, shattered shields, twisted armor, all crushed together into a single grotesque mass. There was no clear path left to walk, only slick stone and flesh underfoot.Holy soldiers kept falling from the siege ladders.Some screamed as they fell, their voices stretched thin with terror. Others never made a sound at all. Their bodies struck stone and earth with dull, final thuds that echoed like hammer blows. Blood soaked into the soil beneath the walls of Rome, darkening the dust until it became thick and sticky, clinging to boots and armor alike.The first assault had failed.That simple truth spread through the Holy Legion faster than fear ever could.The ladders themselves were already failing. They had been built in haste, reinforced poorly, and now they groaned