As the night faded, Samael stood at the doorway and absentmindedly touched the left side of his face, where a trace of warmth still lingered. Staring at the tall walls at the far end of the palace, he could not help but shake his head with a helpless sigh.
Did she just treat me like a companion? She really is still a child.
But thinking about it, it was understandable. A girl raised in the warped environment of an assassin order, pushed away and isolated because of the poison within her body, would naturally grow up longing for affection and closeness.
And the moment she discovered someone who could resist her poison, she immediately drew close without hesitation. The difficulty of winning her over was practically Easy, maybe even Impossible. If someone could survive being touched by her once, it would not take much effort to make her trust them.
Still, a child that emotional is hardly suited to become a cold-blooded killer.
Old Man, I do not know how you teach your students, but your eye for picking an heir is definitely questionable.
Well, whatever. She may not be qualified to become a Hassan-level assassin, but as a messenger she will do perfectly fine.
Samael muttered to himself. Having stayed awake the entire night, he felt a faint sense of fatigue. He stepped out from the corridor, stretched his body beneath the rising sun climbing over the horizon, and shook off the lingering weariness.
"Your Highness, the troops have assembled. They are currently stationed at the military camp outside the city and await your inspection and orders."
Samael had barely finished stretching before a messenger rushed over with the report.
"Good. I will be there shortly. Tell the legion commander to prepare the personnel registers and the supply inventory. I want to review them immediately. Also notify the Pantheon. Give them two hours to assemble five hundred priests and one thousand Magi at the military camp outside the city and stand by."
The Ancient Serpent nodded in satisfaction and handed the signed order to the messenger. Then he quickly returned to the council chamber to complete the transfer of administrative duties and say his farewells before departure.
Two hours later, Samael arrived alone at the military camp, the Spear of Nation Building held firmly in his hand.
As for Brynhildr, Samael had deliberately left her beside Nero together with Boudica's eldest daughter, in case anything unexpected happened.
After all, the Roman Empire was now surrounded by enemies on three sides. In order to maintain the different fronts, Samael had mobilized nearly all available resources. Even the more than one hundred thousand garrison troops stationed in the four provinces directly under the Pantheon, whose task was to guard Rome itself, had been heavily drawn upon.
The City of Seven Hills was now extremely vulnerable.
To be safe, he had left Nero with a number of reliable guards and protectors. If the city were attacked, Nero would at least have enough time to withdraw calmly and wait for Samael to return with reinforcements.
After mentally reviewing every possible detail and problem one more time, Samael confirmed that he had done everything he could to prepare. Feeling somewhat reassured, he picked up the army registers inside the command tent and began inspecting the troops.
After a thorough inspection, both openly and discreetly, Samael was quite satisfied with the army's quality and morale.
The emergency force numbered around fifty thousand soldiers, roughly equivalent to two reinforced legions. They had been quickly transferred from the two provinces closest to Rome.
Because Rome had been fighting foreign tribes for years and the threat of invasion was always near, military strength was the foundation of national stability. Even the garrison troops stationed in relatively peaceful areas had few manpower shortages. Most soldiers were well trained, properly equipped, and carried themselves with the discipline and sharpness of seasoned warriors.
However, when Samael saw the name of the legion commander, he suddenly slapped his forehead as realization dawned.
Pompey.
I almost forgot about him.
Pompey was one of Rome's most famous generals and politicians. Brave in battle and upright in character, he had historically conquered Africa, wiped out Mediterranean pirates, and brought regions such as Syria and Anatolia under Roman control.
Syria. Anatolia.
Those areas were practically the gateway to Mesopotamia.
A perfect match. You are the one.
Among the great figures of early Rome, Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus were known as the First Triumvirate. Later came Mark Antony, Octavian, and Lepidus, known as the Second Triumvirate.
Crassus had suffered defeat against Parthia, dying in battle. His severed head had even been filled with molten gold. A humiliating end.
Lepidus had lost in Sicily to Pompey's son, Pompey the Younger, and Octavian seized the opportunity to strip him of his power.
So those two were somewhat lacking in military achievement. The remaining four, however, were far more capable.
With Caesar currently away in Greece, that left Pompey, Mark Antony, and Octavian. Samael had assigned all three according to their strengths.
This unexpected discovery lifted some of the weight from Samael's mind. He summoned the future legendary Roman commander and asked him about the strategy for the upcoming campaign.
Fortunately, Pompey was already approaching middle age, when both experience and strength were at their peak.
After listening to Pompey's calm and methodical analysis, along with his familiarity with the Persian Empire, Samael made his decision immediately.
He would place the army's command entirely in Pompey's hands.
Samael himself would remain in reserve, stepping in only if necessary as the final safeguard.
After all, warfare is a field where talent matters greatly.
Samael was fairly capable when it came to commanding small forces. But in large-scale warfare involving hundreds of thousands of troops, his ability was only average. He could not compare with veteran commanders like these.
Not to mention the many other factors involved in war: terrain, military organization, supply lines, and enemy analysis. Roman generals who had fought foreign enemies for over a decade naturally surpassed Samael in these areas.
Knowing one's limits was important. In a war that would decide Rome's fate, it was best to let professionals handle it.
By noon, Pompey had already finished assembling the army and began leading the troops eastward toward the defensive front in an orderly advance.
Hidden quietly within his chariot, Samael finally let out a long breath of relief.
He had already done everything he could. What remained now depended on Rome itself.
Hopefully… everything would still be in time.
The Ancient Serpent gazed silently into the distance through the carriage window for a moment. Then he lowered the curtain, leaned back inside the carriage, closed his eyes, and rested to recover his strength.
With the assistance of Magi, the army marched day and night at full speed. In just seven days, they reached the desolate frontier bordering the Persian Empire.
Crack!
Dozens of miles away, the forward fortress built by the Tenth Province using the natural terrain flickered faintly under its outer Magecraft barrier. Under a barrage of ritual spells, the barrier shattered piece by piece, exposing wide gaps.
Boom!
In an instant, the sky turned crimson. A Magecraft formation stretching over a hundred meters took shape, and from it descended burning masses like meteors falling from the heavens. They slammed violently into the fortress walls. Amid violent tremors, massive chunks of stone broke apart, and half of the two connected bastions collapsed.
Soldiers who failed to escape in time were buried beneath falling rubble and bricks as thick smoke spread everywhere.
For a moment, wails filled the air. Blood splattered across the ground. Twisted severed limbs and mangled bodies lay scattered everywhere.
The centurions who had taken shelter beneath the battlements during the magical bombardment shook off the dust the moment the explosions stopped. They ran through the chaos, shouting orders and regrouping nearby soldiers to reform the defensive line.
The Magi and priests, equally covered in soot and dust, squeezed out the last of their strength to treat the wounded and repair the damaged Magecraft barrier.
But before the defenders could recover, the ground began to shake violently.
Within the massive dark formation of the Persian army, war elephants surged forward. Their bodies were pitch black, engraved with crimson and black Magecraft runes. Driven by their handlers, the beasts roared furiously, their massive tusks gleaming as they charged toward the fortress walls.
The hastily assembled Roman defenders loosed two scattered volleys of arrows.
The arrows struck the elephants' thick hides and bounced away harmlessly. Even the Magi's spell projectiles could only leave faint marks.
Meanwhile, Persian soldiers riding atop the elephants returned fire from their elevated positions, creating further chaos among the defenders.
Boom!
In the next moment, hundreds of raging war elephants charged forward like living siege engines. As the red-black runes on their bodies flashed, they crashed directly into the section of wall that had already been cracked by the meteor bombardment.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Under the repeated impacts, the towering fortress wall collapsed in huge sections. A massive breach tore through the defensive line, leaving the city completely exposed.
War elephants surged through the opening. Their sweeping tusks shattered defensive obstacles such as chevaux-de-frise and barricades.
Several Roman century units rushed forward without fear, attempting to block the advance. But before these massive beasts, they were trampled and hurled aside one after another. Blood sprayed across the battlefield as shattered bodies and scattered organs were flung everywhere.
Below the walls, the battlefield looked like a slaughterhouse soaked in blood.
Meanwhile, the one hundred thousand Persian soldiers massed outside the fortress erupted in thunderous cheers and advanced relentlessly.
A scattered rain of arrows fell toward them from the walls.
But the soldiers leading the charge wore black armor and black cloaks, their faces hidden behind masks. Even after being struck by multiple arrows, they simply pulled the shafts out and continued advancing as if nothing had happened.
The Immortals.
The Roman soldiers on the walls turned pale with despair.
This fortress… was finished.