British coast.
Roman soldiers lined up along the shore, forming an organized battle line. Various large weapons were deployed, their interiors lavishly filled with kerosene.
Not far out at sea, warships could be seen burning, slowly sinking beneath the waves. The screams of Roman soldiers echoed faintly, carried by the wind.
No—could those traitors still be called Roman soldiers?
No one could answer that question. All Roman units, including their officers, turned to look at the commander of this battle—Emperor Lucius.
Before the fighting began, there had been widespread confusion.
After all, they were initially ordered to greet reinforcements from their homeland. Yet oddly, they were also instructed to bring along all of their equipment. Why bring everything if they were merely welcoming allies?
Despite their doubts, they obeyed. Given the elusive nature of the British army, the troops carried out their orders to the letter.
Then, when the Roman warships appeared on the horizon, Lucius personally gave the order to attack.
In that moment, everyone thought he had gone mad.
But because of the absolute trust Lucius had earned over the years—his unbroken record of victories, his overwhelming strength—they had no choice but to follow.
Soon after, when messengers spread word along the front lines that a group of Roman soldiers, previously lured ashore at a different location, had immediately turned on their comrades and were swiftly annihilated, shock gripped every heart.
Surprise!
His Majesty Lucius had once again foreseen the betrayal and prepared accordingly.
It was the nth time this had happened since their arrival on this island.
From detecting the betrayal of the incoming "reinforcements" to blocking all news of it from leaking, then launching a decisive counterattack to annihilate the rebels—his tactics were bold, precise, and dangerous. If even one soldier had hesitated, it might have triggered widespread doubt and caused the entire strategy to collapse.
Yet Lucius had executed it all flawlessly.
When it came to war, His Majesty was like a god.
No—His Majesty was the God of War!
Yet the man they saw as divine simply watched the burning sea with a blank expression. His heart, in truth, held no pride or sorrow.
Lucius, it turned out, was merciless toward his own.
Even upon learning of the betrayal, he had been more eager than anyone to execute the traitors himself.
But even such a cold-blooded man, in this moment, was filled with anger and resentment. A flicker of unease even touched his eyes.
"Hey… how exactly did you know they had betrayed us?"
He turned to the black-robed man beside him.
The figure Arthur once identified as Rome's military advisor had never made a public appearance. He remained by Lucius's side, offering quiet counsel to guide the war's course. The ultimate decisions still depended on Lucius. If even one proposal was rejected, the British army might seize the opportunity to destroy Rome.
Yet ever since that first suicidal siege—where Lucius had sent four legions into certain death—he had realized he had no choice but to rely on Britain to formulate strategy.
"It was simple," the black-robed man said. "From the moment the Senate first contacted us, their behavior was already abnormal. Later communications were filled with trivial matters—things they could have resolved themselves. The last contact, about reinforcements, was clearly off. It was all too suspicious."
"So you concluded that my empire had been compromised just from that?" Lucius asked.
"You underestimate Britain. The three senators who remained in Rome were appointed by you. I observed them before. They were capable men. That means Rome has been compromised since the very first message. At the very least, we can conclude that our communications have been intercepted."
"…Well done."
Lucius finally offered a flat-toned compliment before falling into silence.
For the first time, he grasped just how vital strategy could be—how deeply it could influence the course of a battle.
Rome had always possessed its own tactical theories, but more often than not, it relied on the flexibility of its legions. Lucius himself managed the army with firm discipline, never retreating, winning victories no matter the odds.
It was a system forged from Rome's deep-rooted legacy and Lucius's sheer valor.
But everything had changed since they set foot on the British Isles.
Valor and leadership alone no longer dictated the tide of war.
Britain's armies and generals were stronger than he had imagined. Their equipment was superior, their morale unbreakable, their cities impenetrably defended. It was enough to instill despair.
It was impossible to defeat them through brute strength or numbers alone.
When Lucius witnessed the confrontations between the black-robed man and Arthur, his worldview shifted.
So this was the power of tactics.
So this was how the few could defeat the many, how the weak could kill the strong, how a mortal could kill a god.
He had to admit—without the Black Robe, his Roman army would have been crushed long ago. Both Arthur and this shadowy tactician could destroy his forces with ease. In their hands, war was merely a game.
Simple valor… was laughable.
And that filled him with rage and bitterness.
If these two people continued to shape the wars of the future, everything would become more convoluted. What had once been pure and glorious would become twisted and polluted by their schemes.
War didn't need men like them.
At that moment, Lucius's thoughts turned. Where once he had admired Arthur—his strength, his terrifying genius—now he wanted only to trap him, cage him, turn him into a living masterpiece that only he could defile.
Ah, Artorius. You just need to become mine.
"We've completely wiped out the rebels here. Upon hearing this, the British King should finally face reality," the black-robed man said. "The next few days will be the true decisive battle. So—how do you plan to convince the enemy?"
Lucius's expression twisted instantly.
"Need you ask?! Of course I'll conquer Artorius's mind, pride, and body—then teach him every kind of pleasure until he yields completely!"
The hunger in his tone, the naked desire in his face—this was no performance. It was a cry from the depths of his heart.
All seemed to be proceeding as planned… right?
The black-robed man nodded calmly.
"Very well. I'll find a way to help you accomplish it."
-End Chapter-
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