2025-12-10 22:31:16The statue of Jupiter towered above Ares Valen, casting a shadow that stretched across the polished marble floor, moving almost as if it had a life of its own. He froze. His heart hammered against his chest. Throat dry as dust. Every thought spun into a dizzying blur. Could gods… really exist? The question clawed at him, sharp and insistent.
For a heartbeat, maybe two, or perhaps an eternity, the air seemed to shiver. A flicker of movement—or a trick of light—made the stone eyes glimmer. And somehow, damn it, they felt alive. His hands twitched. The strange power he had felt before—the fog bending to his will, whispers threading through his mind—what was it? Magic? Divine power? Or something far stranger?
Then he saw it. Floating before him, almost casually, the Sword of the God of War. Its blade caught the sunlight, cold and precise, forged not for display but for death and mastery. Ares drew a sharp breath and grasped it. Perfectly balanced. Heavy enough to feel lethal, yet agile enough to move like an extension of his arm. Every inch of it whispered danger, every inch screamed authority.
“This world… it’s… wrong,” he muttered to himself. Somehow, he had become a priest. Somehow, this divine weapon rested in his hands.
“Priest?” The voice cut through the thick air, startlingly close. The Hidden Captain stepped forward. Her voice wavered, a mix of authority and excitement that sent shivers down his spine. There was something magnetic about her, subtle but undeniable. A soft, sweet scent lingered around her, impossible to ignore in a tense moment like this.
Ares blinked. Then realization struck him like a hammer. “She’s… a woman.”
The ruthless, masked commander of the Hidden Ones—a figure he had always imagined as cold and unyielding—was a woman. He stared. Her movements, her lethal presence, her aura of danger, none of it had hinted at femininity. And yet she stood there, demanding attention without even trying.
“The power you used,” she said, her voice firm now, “was granted by the divine spirit. But His strength… it is weak. He needs believers. Only through faith can He grant more power. Only then can He protect His people. Only then can Alatien be safe.”
Her eyes burned with conviction, piercing the dim light of the temple, setting his mind alight with awe and fear.
Ares swallowed hard. “The… power of gods?”
“Yes.” Her voice returned to its usual roughness, masking the glimpse of softness he had glimpsed before. “Jupiter gives priests command over elements, authority to lead, and the wisdom to judge. Faith is the fuel. The more believers, the stronger the priest becomes.”
His pulse raced. It wasn’t random. It wasn’t luck. Power fueled by devotion. Terrifying. Powerful. Possibly unstoppable.
“Only I can wield this power?” he asked. “No one else?”
“The selection is strict,” she said, her tone carrying respect. “Only the most devoted Hidden Ones, with five or more years of service, may be chosen. Inheritance must come from a temple priest. To become a true war priest—recognized by the divine spirit—you must be chosen above all others.”
Ares exhaled slowly. Alone for now. But it was a beginning. In the back of his mind, a faint flicker of the auxiliary system reminded him of the long path ahead.
Temple Status: Grand Ruling Temple Deity: Jupiter Believers: 380 Divine Power: Low Priests: 1 (War Priest) Can Train: 10 priests Next Ability: Judgment of WarWeapon: Sword of the God of War
Tier: One Bonus: Double attack power Special: Soul Stab Upgrade Requirement: 5000 soul powerHis eyebrows twitched. Soul absorption? Eternal imprisonment? This weapon surpassed everything he had seen in Rome: Total War.
“How long have you been a Hidden One?” he asked.
“Eight years. Started at twelve,” she replied.
Twelve. So young. So disciplined. So carefully molded by the temple. Ares exhaled, decision forming like fire in his chest.
“Starting today, you’ll be the second priest of this temple.”
The words struck like a hammer. The Hidden Captain’s breath caught. Her eyes flickered behind the silver mask.
“Priest…” she whispered, reverence bleeding from every syllable. For a Hidden One, the priesthood was life’s purpose. Everything they had trained for. Everything they had lived for.
But as he sifted through inherited memories, reality hit him hard. Priesthood was far from ceremonial. Sacrifices—food, jade, silk, livestock. And worst of all, blood. Hundreds of days spent kneeling, praying before the gods.
He clenched his jaw. Resources were scarce. But blood… that was non-negotiable. The bridge to the divine. Everything else could be adapted.
Ten Hidden warriors formed a solemn circle. The Captain stepped forward, hands trembling as she removed her silver mask.
Ares froze. Pale as winter snow, delicate yet severe. Her face caught the skylight, bathed in golden light, ethereal and almost otherworldly. Beautiful. Dangerous. A figure carved by discipline itself.
A flicker of vulnerability passed across her face before her composure returned.
“I am ready,” she whispered, soft, human, feminine.
Ares nodded. “Then we begin.”
Raising his hand to the statue, he intoned:
“In the name of the Source of Light, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, the Guardian God of Rome, Jupiter, I grant the Hidden One, Cress, the right to serve as a priest of this temple.”Her name—stolen from her since childhood—is now hers. The Hidden Ones had no face, no identity, only a mask. Until now.
“Let all remember,” he continued, voice echoing through the stone hall, “the gods of Rome are watching. Never shame them through your deeds.”
Cress drew a sharp breath and then sliced her wrist.
“Cress!” Ares shouted. Blood spread across the marble like living fire, metallic and vivid. Romans believed blood carried the soul. Here, it was the bridge to the divine.
Nearly a liter spilled. A ripple of magic shimmered faintly across the floor.
“That’s enough! Stop bleeding!” he barked.
She did not stop. Hidden Ones were trained for devotion beyond life itself. This was sacred. Untouchable.
Her pale, determined face met his gaze. “A Hidden One’s face and identity must remain hidden unless priesthood is earned. Otherwise… death. Thank you, Priest, for giving me a name.”
Another slash. Another river of crimson.
“You stubborn woman!” Ares roared. He looked at the ten warriors. “Stop her! Now!”
They stayed kneeling, heads bowed, respect and fear entwined. Her offering was untouchable, holy, complete.
If she died here… because of ritual… what kind of god demanded this? Anger flared. Raw and sharp. “Even without a temple,” he thought, “I will carve my own path in this world.”
Then—a deep chime. Resonating, shaking the hall.
“The Guardian God of Rome, Jupiter, grants the devout Cress the Staff of Abundance…”
Another chime.
“Jupiter grants Cress the right to perform the duties of Priest of Abundance…”
A third, final chime.
“One divine skill granted: Flourishing Growth—for crops, grains, livestock.”
Warm golden light cascaded over her battered form. Gentle. Embracing. Divine. The ritual succeeded.
Cress’ knees steadied. Tears of relief and devotion filled her eyes. Ares lowered his hand, chest heaving, heart pounding with awe, frustration, and responsibility.
This was more than a chapter in their lives. It was a beginning. For him. For Cress. For Rome. A world poised between mortal struggle and divine will.
And as the light bathed her, he knew, with thrill and chill intertwined, the gods had chosen… and their work was far from done.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 116: The Roman Sword (Part Two)
“Pila!”“Pila!”The command echoed again and again, tearing through the smoke-filled battlefield like a bell rung for the dead. It did not fade. It did not soften. It kept coming, heavy and relentless, until the sound itself seemed to press against the chest.What followed was not a charge.It was not a roar of men rushing forward.It was something worse.It was a storm.Days of fighting had bled the Senate legions dry. The ground told the story better than any report ever could. Bodies lay everywhere, some burned black, some cut apart, others frozen in strange positions as if death had caught them mid-thought. Numbers had dropped. Supplies were strained. Morale had been scraped down to something thin and bitter.And still, the enemy line burned.Ahead of the legions stood an unbroken wall of fire, bright enough to hurt the eyes and hot enough to make breathing painful. It moved when commanded, flared when threatened, and answered to one will alone. The beast-elf war shaman Shase stoo
Chapter 115: The Sword of Rome (Part One
he moment the Roman gladiators waded into the river, the warriors of the Nami Sea Clan knew something had gone terribly wrong.It was not fear at first. It was instinct.The Lannon River churned violently as nets burst upward from beneath its surface, spreading wide like vicious flowers in bloom. One followed another. Then another. Soon there were too many to track. They overlapped and tangled, each knot placed with care, each line designed to trap, tighten, and pull a struggling body into helpless stillness.The fishmen charged anyway.They roared and surged forward, driven by numbers and confidence, believing sheer force would carry them through. It lasted only seconds. Nets snapped shut around limbs and torsos. Powerful bodies twisted in panic. Arms locked. Gills flared as breath failed. Thin strands of wire bit into flesh, slicing deeper with every desperate movement.The river filled with confusion and blood.The gladiators did not panic. They never did.They moved with calm, rut
Chapter 114 : Roman Gladiators
The soul was never meant to leave the flesh.That truth had been passed down through countless generations, spoken by priests, scholars, and warriors alike. A soul without a body was like a blade without an edge. You could still call it a sword, but it would never cut. Ares Valen had always understood this in theory.Only now did he truly feel it.And the realization came with fear.Something essential was slipping away from him, slowly but relentlessly, like sand running through open fingers. For the first time since he could remember, Ares Valen felt helpless.He could not move.He could not feel his body.The strength he had forged through years of war sacrifices, the brutal conditioning that had hardened his flesh and instincts, answered him no longer. His body might as well have belonged to someone else. He tried to command it, tried to force it to respond, but nothing happened.It was like shouting orders into an endless void.In the realm of the soul, physical power was meaning
Chapter 113 : The Tiger Guard Camp
The name Tiger Guard was never meant to impress anyone.It was not chosen for poetry, nor for pride. No bard had whispered it into existence, and no noble had polished it to sound heroic. The name existed for one reason only.It was a warning.Once the Tiger Guard moved, they did not stop. They did not slow down. They did not reconsider. They charged, hunted, and pursued like a tiger that had already chosen its prey and decided there was no other path left in the world. Retreat did not exist for them. Doubt was something other men carried.The Tiger Guard existed to destroy.Beneath the Dragon Banner stood a thousand men.They stood close, shoulder to shoulder, boots pressed into blood-soaked earth. No one spoke. No one shifted their weight. Their breathing was steady, measured, almost unnaturally calm. It was the kind of calm that only came from years of drilling and from seeing death so often that it stopped being shocking.A thousand breaths rose and fell together.A thousand heart
Chapter 112: The Breakthrough Battalion
By the time the Breakthrough Battalion finally forced their way beneath the Emperor Mammoths, they were no longer a thousand strong.Not even close.The battlefield had taken its price early, and it had taken it brutally.The first clash had been a nightmare made real. The kind of moment commanders pray never comes, and soldiers never forget if they survive it. Entire lines disappeared in seconds. Men were trampled into the earth, crushed beneath iron-plated feet, or thrown aside like broken shields. Some died screaming. Some did not even have time for that.It should have shattered the battalion.It did not.Those still alive did what soldiers have always done when retreat is impossible. They adapted. They learned fast. They moved forward because standing still meant death.Only when they reached the dark space beneath the mammoths, behind the thick pillars of their legs and under the massive shadows of their bellies, did the Imperial Guard finally discover a way to fight back.From
Chapter 110: The Formation-Breaking Battalion
The ground groaned.Not cracked. Not split apart. It groaned, deep and low, as if the land itself were alive and already regretting the nightmare about to trample across its back.A heavy tremor rolled through the battlefield. At first it was distant, almost subtle. Then it grew stronger. Strong enough to rattle armor plates. Strong enough to make teeth chatter inside clenched jaws.Dust lifted from the earth in thin sheets.Men froze.Then the sound came.“ROOOAAR!”Eleven Imperial Mammoths surged forward at the same moment.Not one after another. Not in a staggered line. They charged together, perfectly synchronized, like an army that needed no orders.It was the kind of sight that robbed soldiers of breath.Each step struck the ground with the force of a collapsing tower. Twenty two massive legs crashed down in merciless rhythm, sending shockwaves outward in widening circles. Stones leapt from the soil. Loose earth erupted into the air. Within seconds, a wall of gray dust swallowed
You may also like
Reincarnated With A Badluck System
Perverted_Fella49.5K viewsA Dream Harem Life Built With Superior Firepower
Runaway_Cactuar20.8K viewsThe Founder Of Qi Cultivation, Reincarnates?
TSETH116.7K viewsThe Greatest Martial Arts Cultivator
KidOO96.2K viewsSid's Zombie Survival Guide
Simon 198212.5K viewsTHE ONE
pete greg 332 viewsNO TIME LEFT
Saviour writes355 viewsApocalypse Of Beasts
BenjiroChiba5.2K views