The Imperial Palace of the Holy Roman City looked timeless, as though it had always ruled the skyline.Tall marble pillars rose toward the sky. Golden domes reflected the morning light. Wide stairways climbed toward towering gates that seemed too grand to belong to any single lifetime. Anyone seeing it for the first time would assume it had stood there forever.But that was a lie history liked to tell.Long before stone replaced soil, before banners replaced war drums, this land had belonged to another race entirely.In ancient days, the Sandstorm Fortress was not a place of beauty or pride. It was a place built to survive. Walls of packed earth surrounded crude dwellings carved directly into hardened ground. Wood, bone, and scavenged metal were used wherever stone was unavailable. The fortress existed for one reason only. To endure the desert and the endless bloodshed that came with it.There were no decorations. No symmetry. No thought for comfort.Only survival.Now, none of it rem

“Sirene,” Ares Valen said at last.He did not raise his voice. There was no need to. His words carried weight on their own, heavy and deliberate, sinking deep like stones dropped into the ocean’s depths.“You will take this divine spark. You will step beyond mortality and leave the limits of flesh behind. You will become a god, one who rules over the seas themselves. But nothing comes without a cost. I have one condition.”For the first time in countless ages, the great sea demon hesitated.Sirene had existed long before most nations were born. She had seen empires rise from ambition and crumble into dust. She had watched great cities sink beneath the waves, their marble halls slowly claimed by coral and shadow. Countless heroes had challenged her, convinced that fate favored them. She had devoured them all.She had believed herself beyond fear.Until this moment.Her breathing grew shallow. Uneven.Godhood.The word echoed inside her mind.Even for an ancient half-god standing at the

“Clear up my doubts,” Ares Valen said, his voice calm enough to feel careless.“Do that, and you leave this place unhindered.”His words did not rise.They did not echo against the high ceiling.They simply settled into the vast imperial chamber, heavy and final, as if the room itself understood there would be no argument.Ares Valen sat upon the Seat of Honor, his posture straight but unstrained. He did not lean forward, nor did he recline. He occupied the throne as though it had been shaped for him alone. The golden dragon cloak rested across his shoulders, its five-clawed emblem catching the afternoon light as it shifted through the tall windows. That symbol was not decorative. It was permission made visible. Only those acknowledged by divine authority were allowed to wear it, and everyone present knew exactly what it meant.His imperial attire shimmered faintly, woven with threads that reflected light without demanding attention. It was not ostentatious. It did not need to be. Thi

The Roman army had never been just an army.Anyone who truly understood Rome knew this. Armies could be disbanded. Soldiers could retire. Weapons could rust. But the Roman legions were something deeper, something far more enduring. They were an idea shaped by iron discipline, endless drilling, blood soaked victories, and the weight of centuries. Rome did not simply command armies. Rome breathed through them.Pride lived within every legionary. So did ambition. So did conquest. These men carried the legacy of countless wars on their backs, even if they had never personally marched in them. For generations beyond counting, scholars studied the legions with fascination. Kings whispered about them with fear. Enemies copied their formations and prayed they would never hear the sound of Roman boots approaching their lands.Few forces in all of recorded history could rival the legions in unity or endurance. Fewer still could match their brutal efficiency. Where they fought, the fields eventu

The screams had not yet faded when something far worse descended from the sky.For a brief moment, some thought it was thunder. Others believed it might be magic, some terrible spell being cast from afar.They were wrong.It was death.Heavy javelins ripped through the air, tearing down from the heavens in a dense black curtain. They fell so thickly that the sky itself seemed to darken, as if a living swarm had passed overhead. For a single heartbeat, the sun vanished. Then the iron storm struck the earth.This was war. And at this distance, war was nothing but madness made real.Shields meant nothing here. At such close range, they were fragile comforts, thin lies soldiers clung to so they could keep standing. The first line of the Roman Youth Army barely had time to lift their defenses before iron punched straight through wood, leather, and flesh. Shields split apart with hollow cracks. Bodies collapsed where they stood. Screams were cut short in mid-breath, voices silenced before f