All Chapters of Rise of Aretian: The Roman War Priest: Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
116 chapters
Chapter 11: Establishing the Republic (Part One)
Pandragón drove his feet into the soil with all the strength he had left, as if he meant to anchor himself to the land itself. The ground felt solid beneath him. Reliable. For a fleeting moment, he believed that if he stood firm enough, the world would have no choice but to hold him upright.Time slowed.For one suspended heartbeat, there was no distinction between man and weapon. No flesh. No steel. Only will.His breathing grew shallow and controlled. The noise of the battlefield faded into something distant and dull. Shouting voices, clashing metal, even the vast sky overhead seemed to blur together. Everything narrowed. Everything aligned.A single straight path stretched forward in his vision.And at the end of it stood one man, calm and unmoving.Ares Valen.Then Pandragón moved.He launched himself forward with everything he had, legs burning as his muscles screamed in protest. His boots tore through the dirt, ripping deep grooves into the ground behind him. The spear whistled s
Chapter 12: Establishing the Republic (Part Two)
For an entire day and the long night that followed, Ares Valen never once stepped beyond the heavy doors of the Governor’s Hall.He did not go outside to breathe the open air.He did not pause to eat.He did not even stand long enough to stretch his aching legs.From the moment the first pale light slid across the polished marble floor to the hour when oil lamps replaced the sun, Ares remained seated at the great stone table. Scrolls and parchments lay scattered before him, stacked and restacked until they resembled the remains of some half-assembled creature. Ink stained his fingers black. His sleeves were wrinkled and smeared. Some documents were neatly written, others violently crossed out, rewritten, then discarded entirely.Slowly, painfully, something took shape.Not a dream.Not a theory.A republic.A real one.Ares knew better than anyone that a republic could not simply be copied from memory and forced into existence. Ideas did not survive on parchment alone. They survived t
Chapter 13: Thriving Growth (Part One)
After finishing his explanation of the Inspector’s duties in full detail, Ares Valen stopped at the entrance of the Governor’s Mansion.He did not follow her.He simply stood there, silent, watching.Mira Bell skipped down the stone paved road with light steps, almost bouncing with energy. For a moment, she looked like a bird that had finally escaped a cage it never realized was locked. Her laughter rang out once, then again, bright and carefree, before slowly fading as distance swallowed the sound. She turned a corner, her slender figure slipping between rows of newly built houses, until she vanished completely.Nothing remained.Only empty air and quiet streets.Ares Valen did not move.Time passed, though he could not say how much. His eyes remained fixed on the path she had taken.There was satisfaction in his gaze. Anyone watching could have seen that much. But beneath it lay something heavier. Something tangled and unsettled.What he felt toward Mira Bell was not simple affectio
Chapter 14: Thriving Growth (Part Two)
“Oh! Almighty Goddess of Light—no, wait—Almighty Jupiter! Praise the god!”“Enough with the praising,” came another voice, half-laughing, half-disbelieving. “Didn’t Lord Caesar say it himself? Everything harvested today belongs to the people who cut it.”“…All of it?”“All of it. Not a single grain spared.”The words spread like wildfire.A ripple of astonishment moved through the fields, soft at first, then swelling into laughter, gasps, and whispered awe.“My heavens…” someone breathed, almost in a trance. “What kind of grain is this? I swear… I’ve lived all my life and never—never seen anything like it.”The free folk couldn’t contain themselves. Fingers reached out, brushing the golden stalks carefully, almost as if they feared the miracle would vanish with one careless touch.“This…” a Roman farmer muttered, clearly unimpressed by their wonder. He looked at them with that faint, superior air only a long-time farmer could carry. “This yellow one is wheat. And the dark fruit? Olive
Chapter 15: The Fishmen Attack
The scream came without warning.It sliced through the calm morning air, sharp and raw, like fabric being torn apart by bare hands.A Roman farmer who had been standing knee deep in the Lan Nong River never even saw it coming. A bone white trident burst up from beneath the surface, moving so fast it seemed unreal. It pierced straight through his chest. The impact lifted him off the riverbed for a brief, terrible moment before his body collapsed backward into the water.Blood spread quickly. Dark. Thick. Ugly.For a single heartbeat, the world stopped.No voices.No footsteps.Only the soft sound of the river continuing to flow as if nothing had happened.Then fear took hold.The free citizens fishing nearby went pale. Some froze where they stood, eyes wide and empty. Others dropped their nets and baskets as if their hands had forgotten how to hold anything at all. A few tried to run, slipping on wet stones as they turned toward the riverbank.They did not get far.The river shifted.N
Chapter 16: The Berserker Clan (Part One)
Ares Valen grabbed the free citizen by the collar without any warning at all.One moment, the man was still trying to explain himself, words tumbling over each other in a nervous rush. The next, his feet barely touched the ground. Ares’s grip was merciless. His fingers locked tight, strong and unyielding, like iron forged for war rather than flesh.Sunlight reflected in Ares Valen’s deep blue eyes, but there was no warmth there. Whatever madness had once lived in those eyes was gone. What remained was far more dangerous. Calm. Cold. Controlled.“Speak,” Ares said.He did not shout. He did not need to.“What are these creatures?”“L Lord Caesar, I” The man’s face drained of color so quickly it was almost frightening to watch. His legs shook violently, not from fatigue, but from pure terror. He had assumed the lord already knew about the fishmen. Everyone on the frontier did. And besides, wasn’t this Caesar? The infamous mad prince of Rome, the man whose temper was said to be as unpredi
Chapter 17: The Berserker Clan (Part Two)
Whoosh. Whoosh.A thin wave of arrows cut through the air from the town ahead. A few struck home. Flesh tore. Someone cried out. Another body dropped hard onto the dirt.Then it stopped.Silence followed, heavy and awkward, as if the battlefield itself had paused to breathe.Against an army of five thousand barbarians and half orcs, the attack was laughable. The arrows had no weight behind them. No conviction. It felt less like resistance and more like a weak protest. Like children throwing stones from behind a fence, hoping they might scare someone away.“Bring up the siege rams.”The command came from Shamo Po.His voice carried far, deep and rough, rolling across the field with natural authority. It was the voice of someone who had tasted blood and wanted more. Not just victory. Not just conquest. Glory.At once, movement stirred in the rear of the half orc ranks.Three crude siege rams were hauled forward. They were rough things, built for purpose rather than beauty. Thick wooden
Chapter 18: Battle (Part One)
“Chris, you…”The words stopped halfway out of Ares Valen’s mouth.Only moments ago, he had sent Mabel away. Not gently. He had grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and pushed her down the corridor, telling her not to come back no matter what she heard. He had seen the fear in her eyes, but he had done it anyway.That was what commanders did. They chose who stayed and who survived.So this should have been over.Yet when he turned back, Chris was there again.Standing beside him.Calm. Unmoved. As if she had never left at all.For a brief moment, Ares Valen simply stared at her.War was a man’s business. That was how he had grown up thinking. How he had been trained. How every battlefield lesson had been framed for him. Men bled. Men died. Men made the ugly decisions.And yet, again and again, women stepped into the fire at the worst possible time.“I won’t leave.”Chris said it plainly.Her voice was steady. Not raised. Not emotional. Just a statement of fact.“And the tr
Chapter 19: Battle (Middle)
“Roman Youth Legion.”Ares Valen’s voice cut through the noise of the battlefield. It was calm, steady, and impossible to ignore.“Prepare for close combat.”The command spread through the formation like a single breath drawn by hundreds of chests at once. No one shouted. No one panicked. The line simply adjusted, as if the soldiers shared one mind.These were no longer frightened boys gripping swords with trembling hands. That version of them had died somewhere in training, beaten out by endless drills and harsh discipline. What stood here now were soldiers. Men who had repeated the same movements so many times that their bodies responded before thought could interfere. Orders lived in their bones. Fear knew when to stay quiet.Each man knew exactly where to stand. How far his shield should overlap with the one beside him. When to step forward. When to brace. When to strike.Ares Valen watched them carefully.There was no hesitation.More than a thousand short swords slid free at the
Chapter 20: Battle (Part Two)
“Kill!”The shout tore across the battlefield, harsh and violent, like cloth being ripped apart by a blade.For a heartbeat, everything froze.Then Ares Valen stepped forward.The ground beneath his boots felt solid, familiar, yet something deep inside him shifted. It was not fear. Not hesitation. It was recognition, as if a buried instinct had finally been called awake.War Priest Level One Skill: War Roar.The instant the skill activated, heat surged through his veins. It did not feel learned. It did not feel borrowed. This power felt ancient, as though it had always been waiting for him to reach out and claim it.His eyes hardened. Veins rose sharply along his temples, dark and pulsing. The muscles across his bare upper body tightened and swelled, cords of strength twisting beneath his skin as raw force gathered inside his chest.He drew in a breath.Deep. Rough. Almost painful.It scraped his throat as it went down, filling his lungs to their limit.Then he roared.The sound did n