With a blinding flash of spatial distortion, Fujimaru's Greater Mass Teleportation deposited the Chaldea vanguard and the surviving Roman legions back onto the safety of the military camp's hilltop.
The air was heavy with the smell of ozone and burnt ozone, but everyone had made it back in one piece. Vlad III was already healing from Jing Ke's strike thanks to his vampiric endurance, and Lancelot's mad aura slowly receded.
However, Nero quickly noticed that the towering Roman Centurion was empty-handed.
"What about your spear, Longinus?" Nero asked, stepping forward with genuine concern.
Longinus looked down at his empty gauntlets, his stoic expression completely unchanged. "It is not a problem, Emperor. I simply require a standard iron spear. By continuously channeling my mana into it, I can transfigure it back into Longinus. However, the process will take several hours to complete."
"Umu! That is a relief!" Nero smiled brightly, her bombastic energy returning as she looked out over the glassed, smoking crater where the enemy blockade used to be. "Although there were certainly elements outside of our predictions, this is undeniably our victory! The United Roman Empire's vanguard has been completely shattered! Outstanding work, everyone! You shall all receive a well-deserved rest!"
A weary but triumphant cheer rose from the surviving Roman soldiers.
A Few Hours Later - The City of Gaul
With the heavy defenders of the United Roman Empire completely wiped out by Altera's orbital strike, and Caesar presumably having retreated in the chaos, the city of Gaul fell into Nero's hands with minimal resistance.
The Roman legions quickly moved in, securing the massive stone walls and establishing a temporary fortress within the city to solidify their newly conquered territory.
Fujimaru and his vanguard followed Nero through the bustling streets, eventually making their way into the city's grand meeting hall to set up their new command center.
As they walked, Fujimaru subtly reached into the pocket of his Chaldea uniform. He opened his palm slightly, revealing two small, faintly glowing crystals.
He had not just been focused on the evacuation. In the exact millisecond before Photon Ray completely glassed the battlefield, Fujimaru's Caster reflexes and his Double Summon skill had allowed him to cast a precise extraction spell. He had successfully salvaged two crystallized fragments of Spirit Cores—one radiating the fierce, bronze heat of the Spartan King, and the other pulsing with the dark, golden madness of the Persian Conqueror.
A decent loot drop for a chaotic raid, Fujimaru thought to himself, his practical mindset perfectly intact as he securely stored the crystals in his dimensional inventory. He stepped into the meeting hall, ready to plan their next hostile takeover.
The grand meeting hall of Gaul was dimly lit by flickering torches, the heavy stone walls echoing with the muffled sounds of the Roman legions fortifying the city outside. A large map of the territory had been hastily rolled out across the central wooden table.
Nero stood at the head of the table, her crimson dress slightly dusted with ash from the battlefield, but her spirit remained fiercely unbroken.
"Once again, I offer you my deepest gratitude," Nero declared, looking proudly at Fujimaru and his vanguard. "Thanks to your incredible strength, we have successfully conquered the city of Gaul. This is a massive, crippling blow to the United Roman Empire. Even though the situation became a dire emergency at the end, fortunately, we did not suffer any major casualties."
Lucius Longinus, currently resting his hands on the hilt of a standard iron spear as he slowly fed his mana into it, stepped forward to deliver the tactical assessment.
"I shall provide the formal battlefield report," Lucius stated, his voice steady and professional. "The United Roman Empire commanders engaged in the recent battle were Leonidas I, Darius III, and the young Iskandar. Furthermore, the Anti-Roman Empire directly intervened in the clash. We confirmed the presence of Jing Ke, Spartacus, and an orbital strike from their leader, Altera."
Lucius gestured to the map, pointing to the scorched crater that now marked the southern approach.
"Just before the multi-colored light fully descended, our scouts reported that Jing Ke and Spartacus abruptly teleported away from the epicenter. The young Iskandar was successfully routed and defeated by Sir Lancelot, while Darius III and Leonidas I were completely eradicated by the pillar of light."
Nero crossed her arms, her lime-green eyes narrowing in deep thought.
"I see. We can safely assume that the devastating pillar of light was a long-range attack from Altera," Nero analyzed, her tone heavy with the responsibility of an Emperor facing a monstrous threat. "With such catastrophic danger looming, I will entrust the defense of Gaul to Constantine XI. His absolute defense makes him the perfect candidate to hold this city as our primary frontline fortress against any counterattacks. That is my decree. However, I am open to opinions and suggestions for the sake of Rome."
Fujimaru leaned over the map. His mind, operating with the absolute, calculating clarity of his Caster Class, was already three steps ahead of the current board state.
"Understood. Regarding that pillar of light," Fujimaru began, his voice calm and practical, "there's a high probability she will fire it again in the near future. We can't afford to be caught in the blast radius of a weapon like that twice. So, it's in our best interest to systematically defeat the United Roman Empire as quickly as possible, and then shift our absolute focus to the Anti-Roman Empire."
He dragged a finger across the map, drawing a line between the red and black markers.
"However, there is a very high chance the Anti-Roman Empire will continue to interfere in our battles against the United Empire, exactly like they did today," Fujimaru continued, looking up at Nero. "We can't fight a two-front war. I suggest we divide our forces. We form a small, elite strike team to infiltrate and sabotage the Anti-Roman Empire's supply lines and commanders to keep them distracted. Meanwhile, the main army pushes forward and focuses entirely on crushing the United Roman Empire."
Vlad III, who was sitting in a nearby chair while his vampiric regeneration finished knitting the wound in his chest closed, offered a slow, approving nod.
"A sound strategy, Master," the Lord of Wallachia agreed, his golden eyes cold. "Keep the barbarians chasing shadows while we dismantle the false emperors."
Nero's face lit up with a brilliant, confident smile. "Umu! A brilliant and cunning division of labor! The main army shall march against my predecessors, while a covert force strikes at the heart of rebellion!"
"A highly logical proposal," Nero nodded, placing her hands on her hips. "If there are no objections, I will officially approve this strategy. But that leaves one major problem—who exactly will make up this small strike force? We cannot afford to spread our elite generals too thin."
"I've already figured out the deployment," Fujimaru said, seamlessly pulling up a holographic interface from his Chaldea bracer to display the team compositions. "Mash, Chevalier d'Eon, and I will form the covert team. Our primary objective is to buy time and prevent the Anti-Roman Empire from interfering. Meanwhile, Vlad iii, Lancelot, Kiyohime, and Jeanne d'Arc will remain with you as the vanguard of the main army."
He tapped a few coordinates on the map. "Chevalier d'Eon has already been acting as our advance scout and has identified several potential locations for the Anti-Roman command base. We execute this split in three days. The United Roman Empire has Zhuge Liang, which means their strategic prediction capabilities are off the charts. They will likely anticipate a divide-and-conquer maneuver, but it's a necessary risk we have to take."
Nero's eyes practically sparkled with admiration.
"Umu! Excellent!" Nero cheered, her boisterous pride filling the war room. "To think so many steps ahead and organize our reinforcements so flawlessly... You truly are worthy of being the Emperor's personal tactician, Fujimaru!"
Fujimaru appreciated the compliment, but his Caster-aligned mind was already hyper-fixated on the anomalies of the previous battle. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his expression completely serious.
"There is still something bothering me about the Anti-Roman Empire's leader," Fujimaru stated, drawing the room's attention back to the scorched crater on the map. "That multi-colored pillar was undeniably a super long-range Noble Phantasm. But if she has access to that kind of orbital firepower, why hasn't she just nuked the capital of Rome directly? Why target a battlefield in Gaul?"
Vlad III narrowed his eyes, following the boy's logic. "A limitation on her weaponry?"
"Exactly," Fujimaru nodded. "It could be a massive cooldown period. Or, alternatively, the range isn't as 'global' as it seems, meaning the Anti-Roman leader might actually be stationed much closer to Gaul than we realize."
He swiped his hand over the map, bringing up the scout reports from their other Chaldea operatives.
"And then there's the gladiator," Fujimaru continued, his brow furrowing. "According to Vlad III scout report, Spartacus didn't charge in from the perimeter. He literally fell from the sky in a freefall. Why? You don't just drop a two-meter-tall Berserker from the clouds unless you have a launch platform. Does the Anti-Roman Empire have some kind of flying fortress or aerial transport?"
The room fell into a heavy silence as the tactical implications settled in. The enemy wasn't just bringing overwhelming numbers; they were bringing absolute, rule-breaking anomalies to the battlefield.
The heavy silence in the war room was suddenly shattered by a blaring, deafening alarm from Fujimaru's Chaldea bracer.
High above the newly conquered city of Gaul, hidden among the clouds, a mechanical, absolute voice whispered into the ether once more.
"Connecting to Mars. Firing in two seconds... Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God (Anti-Army/Anti-Fortress A++)!"
In the first second of the activation, the sky above the city violently tore open. Beneath the descending multi-colored light, dozens of massive, intricate magic circles and geometric patterns materialized in the air. As the prismatic light passed through these rings, it didn't just accelerate—it magnified exponentially. This wasn't merely a beam of magical energy; it was the absolute embodiment of War itself, carrying a terrifying conceptual effect capable of severing the World. Anything that made direct physical contact with that light was conceptually destined for absolute destruction.
But that didn't mean it was entirely without a counter.
"This is bad! This mana surge is reaching critical Noble Phantasm levels!" Fujimaru and Dr. Roman shouted simultaneously, their voices overlapping in pure panic. Fujimaru's theory had been dead right—the cooldown was non-existent, and she was aiming straight for their command center.
"Mash! Jeanne d'Arc!" Fujimaru roared, his Caster instincts kicking into overdrive as he dashed toward the courtyard of the meeting hall, looking up at the blinding sky. "Use your Noble Phantasms and aim them at the sky right now! We will back you up!"
Mash didn't hesitate. She slammed the base of her massive, cross-shaped shield into the stone courtyard, her lavender eyes blazing with absolute resolve.
"Deploying Noble Phantasm!" Mash cried out, her magical circuits burning as the manifestation of Camelot's walls erupted upward. "Lord Chaldeas: Virtual Noble Phantasm Pseudo-Deployment: Foundation of Human Order (Anti-Unit D)"
Beside her, the Holy Maiden of Orleans raised her tattered battle flag. She closed her eyes, offering a swift, desperate prayer to the heavens to shield the people of this city.
"O Lord, I entreat You... Grant me the strength to protect those who are precious to me!" Jeanne d'Arc's voice rang out with absolute, unwavering purity. "Luminosité Eternelle: God is Here With Me (Barrier A Rank)"
A blinding, golden light erupted from Jeanne's flag, merging flawlessly with the towering, ethereal chalk walls of Mash's Lord Chaldeas: Virtual Noble Phantasm Pseudo-Deployment: Foundation of Human Order (Anti-Unit D). Together, they formed a massive, impenetrable dome of absolute defense over the command center and the surrounding city blocks.
One second later, the entire world turned a blinding, terrifying multi-color.
KRA-ZOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God (Anti-Army/Anti-Fortress A++) slammed into the city of Gaul like the wrath of a dying star. The sheer kinetic and magical impact was indescribable. The streets outside the barrier were instantly vaporized, buildings melting into glass within milliseconds.
However, against the absolute destructive concept of War, the absolute defensive concepts of the Holy Maiden and the Shield of Chaldea stood their ground. The prismatic pillar of light smashed violently against the golden and chalk-white dome. The barrier groaned and shrieked under the catastrophic pressure, fighting back the annihilation.
But the Sword of Mars was not a single, instantaneous explosion. It was a continuous, grinding pillar of sheer eradication.
"Guh... aaaaaaagh!!" Mash gritted her teeth, her boots sliding backward against the stone courtyard as the overwhelming pressure threatened to crush her arms.
"Hold on, Mash!" Jeanne shouted, her own hands trembling as the golden light of her flag flickered under the apocalyptic heat.
Despite their combined, legendary defensive power, the horrifying reality of the Anti-Roman Empire's leader became apparent. Slowly, agonizingly, massive, spiderweb-like cracks began to form across the surface of Lord Chaldeas: Virtual Noble Phantasm Pseudo-Deployment: Foundation of Human Order (Anti-Unit D) and Luminosité Eternelle: God is Here With Me (Barrier A Rank).
The combined absolute defense was beginning to shatter.
As the massive, spiderweb-like cracks spread across the combined defenses of Mash and Jeanne d'Arc, the heat inside the courtyard reached unbearable levels. The absolute concept of War was slowly grinding their shields into dust.
Fujimaru's eyes narrowed, the Prismatic light reflecting in his irises. If the shields fell, everyone in this courtyard would be erased. He completely dropped the façade of a normal human Master.
"Hold the line just a little longer!" Fujimaru shouted, his hands glowing with intense, otherworldly magical circuits.
"Summon Low Tier Angel 20X: Angel Guardian!"
In a flash of pure white light, twenty ethereal angels, each bearing a single pair of majestic wings, materialized in a perfect circle behind Mash and Jeanne. Moving in absolute synchronization, the angels raised their hands.
"Holy Fortress!" the angels chanted in unison. A secondary, brilliantly glowing wall of magical defense erupted behind Lord Chaldeas, acting as a crucial shock absorber to reinforce the cracking chalk walls.
But Fujimaru wasn't done. He needed heavy artillery to push back against the descending pillar.
"Summon High Tier Angel: Cherubim Gatekeeper!" The courtyard trembled as a massive, divine entity manifested. It possessed the roaring head and mane of a lion, with one pair of wings stretched wide and a second pair curling protectively around its imposing, armor-clad body. In one hand, it held a heavy shield adorned with countless unblinking eyes; in the other, a blazing spear of holy fire.
The Cherubim Gatekeeper lunged forward, slamming its eye-adorned shield directly against the ceiling of the barrier to absorb the crushing kinetic pressure, before violently hurling its flaming spear straight up into the prismatic light. Even as a top-tier defensive summon, the sheer output of Altera's strike forced the angel to its knees.
Seeing the angel struggling, Fujimaru instantly balanced the scales with the dark arts.
"Summon High Tier Demon: Abyssal Lord!"
A suffocating aura of pure malice flooded the courtyard. From a pool of pitch-black shadows, a terrifying nightmare rose. The Abyssal Lord was covered in hardened, obsidian scales, supported by a thick, demonic whip-like tail. Massive bat wings extended from its back, and twisted horns pierced outward from its skull and spine. Its face was a grotesque hybrid of human and insect, its jaw lined with razor-sharp teeth, and its claws gleamed like katana blades.
With a screech that shattered the surrounding windows, the Abyssal Lord launched itself upward, viciously slashing at the descending pillar of light with its razor-claws, attempting to tear the magic apart through sheer demonic force.
But the Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God (Anti-Army/Anti-Fortress A++) continued to bear down on them. Fujimaru raised both of his hands, his Caster authority drawing upon the very limits of his mana pool.
"Triplet Maximize Magic: Call Greater Thunder!"
Three colossal, deafening bolts of lightning tore through the sky, twisting around the orbital strike and slamming directly into the core of the multi-colored light.
"Triplet Maximize Magic: Polar Claw!"
Immediately following the thunder, a massive, spectral claw made of absolute zero ice materialized. It possessed no secondary status effects; it was a spell entirely dedicated to singular, devastating DPS. The freezing claw violently slashed against the scorching heat of the Sword of Mars, creating a massive explosion of steam that blanketed the city.
Seeing their Master unleashing such impossible miracles, the Chaldea vanguard pushed past their own limits to join the counterattack.
Vlad III gritted his bloodstained fangs, throwing his hands upward despite the agonizing pain in his chest. "Kazıklı Bey: The Lord of Execution!" Thousands of massive iron stakes erupted from the courtyard, forming a dense, bristling canopy of spikes that shot directly into the prismatic beam.
Lancelot gripped his pitch-black sword, Arondight: The Unfading Light of the Lake, with both hands. His red visor blazed as he swung the corrupted blade through the air with god-like speed, launching dozens of massive, dark mana waves upward to physically batter the descending light.
Beside him, Kiyohime opened her fan, her golden eyes burning with draconic fury as she unleashed a massive, continuous torrent of blue flames, adding her own terrifying heat to the clash.
Lucius Longinus could only watch in frustrated silence, his hands still diligently feeding mana into a standard iron spear to recreate his Noble Phantasm. Chevalier d'Eon stood defensively near Nero, lacking the raw anti-fortress firepower needed to affect a clash of this magnitude, but keeping their blade ready in case the barrier broke.
For several agonizing seconds, the sky over Gaul was a chaotic, deafening warzone of holy shields, demonic claws, iron stakes, corrupted slashes, and ancient magic completely deadlocked against the descending alien light.
The heat was suffocating. The noise was absolute.
And then... the pressure began to lessen.
The absolute concept of War had finally exhausted its output against the combined, impossible resistance of Chaldea and Nazarick. The blinding multi-colored light flickered, fractured, and then rapidly dissolved into harmless, sparkling dust that drifted down over the city like snow.
Mash dropped to her knees, gasping for air as her shield clattered against the stone. Jeanne's flag ceased its glowing, the Holy Maiden leaning heavily against her staff. The angels and the demon vanished back into the ether.
Fujimaru lowered his hands, breathing heavily as he looked up.
The Teardrop Photon Ray: Star of Tears, Sword of the War God (Anti-Army/Anti-Fortress A++) was gone. In its place, the sky was completely clear, the massive clouds above Gaul having been torn wide open by the blast, revealing the calm blue sky beyond. They had survived.
The sparkling dust of the destroyed Photon Ray settled over the courtyard. The immediate threat was gone, but the atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy.
"Form up! Report the damages!" Lucius Longinus commanded, his booming voice cutting through the stunned silence of the Roman legions.
A centurion hastily ran up to the commanders, his face pale and his hands shaking as he saluted. "Report! Thanks to the Master and the Heroic Spirits, physical casualties are practically zero! However... the mental trauma is severe! The men's spirits are completely shattered!"
It was an expected outcome. Normal human soldiers were not mentally equipped to witness, let alone survive, an apocalyptic orbital strike from the Great King of Destruction. Many legionaries had dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in sheer despair, their will to fight completely vaporized by the sheer terror of Altera's power.
Nero bit her lip, looking out at her trembling army. "This is a grave situation. A broken mind is far more difficult to heal than a broken body. If they cannot hold their weapons, we cannot march."
"I have a way to fix this," Fujimaru said smoothly, his Caster mindset already formulating the perfect countermeasure. He looked at the Emperor. "Have them all gather in the central plaza."
Nero didn't hesitate to trust her tactician. "All forces, assemble in the plaza immediately!"
Within minutes, the shivering, demoralized legions of Rome were packed tightly into the city center. Fujimaru stood on the elevated steps of the meeting hall, looking down at them.
Before he began the incantation, Fujimaru very deliberately took several large steps backward, distancing himself from his own vanguard. It was a subtle movement, but a necessary one. Beneath his human disguise, his true Natan Saint Graph was fundamentally tied to the Great Tomb of Nazarick—meaning his ultimate racial classification was Undead. What he was about to cast would act as absolute poison to his own Spirit Origin if he caught himself in the crossfire.
Ensuring he was safely outside the spell's radius, Fujimaru raised his hands.
"Holy Ascension!"
A massive, brilliant wave of pure, golden holy light washed over the entire plaza. It wasn't a destructive light like the Sword of Mars; it was a profoundly warm, comforting radiance that enveloped every single Roman soldier and Chaldean Servant.
The effects of the high-tier support magic were instantaneous and absolute. All mental fatigue, fear, and despair (Debuffs) were instantly wiped from their minds. While strength, endurance, and agility surged, receiving a massive 50% enhancement. Also gained a 50% resistance boost against all future mental interferences and curses. Finally standard iron weapons and armor faintly glowed, temporarily enchanted with the Holy element.
"This... this is incredible!" the centurion gasped, looking at his glowing hands.
All across the plaza, the despairing soldiers stood up. Their trembling stopped. The fear in their eyes was replaced by an absolute, burning fervor. The Roman legions roared, their morale instantly shifting from the absolute bottom to an unstoppable peak.
Fujimaru lowered his hands, feeling a slight sting of holy energy in the air but otherwise unharmed. He turned back to the war table.
"I suggest we march on the United Roman Empire's capital right now, while this massive buff is still active," Fujimaru proposed, his tactical voice carrying over the cheering army. "The Anti-Roman Empire didn't just target us randomly. If they're willing to drop their ultimate weapon here, there's a very high probability they are planning to crash the final battle at the capital to wipe out both empires at once. We need to seize the initiative."
Nero looked at the revitalized army, then back to the map. Her lime-green eyes burned with the absolute resolve of Rome.
"Does anyone object to this strategy?" Nero asked, looking around her generals.
Silence met her question. Vlad III smirked, Lancelot readied his posture, and Mash gave a firm nod. There was no hesitation left in the vanguard.
"I shall take that as unanimous agreement!" Nero declared, drawing her crimson broadsword and pointing it toward the northern horizon. "Relay my orders! We march on the United Roman Empire's capital immediately! Send word to Locusta and Constantine XI tell them to leave a minimum garrison here and join us in the siege! We end this war today!"
-
The heavy doors of the throne room slammed shut, sealing the grand assembly of the United Roman Empire in a suffocating, tense silence. Zhuge Liang's report hung in the air like a guillotine. The loss of two supreme defensive and offensive commanders—Leonidas I and Darius III—without a single casualty on the enemy's side was a catastrophic tactical failure.
On the right throne, Gaius Julius Caesar wiped a thick bead of sweat from his forehead. His oversized left gauntlet clanked heavily against the armrest as he shifted his massive weight in sheer frustration.
"This is utterly absurd!" Caesar barked, his sharp, calculating mind struggling to process the sheer anomaly of the battlefield. "A flawless pincer attack, completely nullified? And Altera drops the Sword of Mars right on top of our vanguard, yet the false Emperor Nero escapes unscathed? What kind of monstrous luck is guiding them?!"
Beside him, Cleopatra placed a delicate, gold-adorned hand on his shoulder. The Last Pharaoh of Egypt looked completely unbothered by the military loss, her sparkling eyes focused only on her lover.
"Do not fret, my beloved Caesar," Cleopatra cooed elegantly, her divine presence meant to soothe his panicked calculations. "Even if the barbarians and the false Emperor have taken Gaul, they are nothing before your absolute genius. Let them march; they will simply tire themselves out before reaching our gates."
On the left throne, Caligula let out a low, guttural growl. The blue-haired, muscular Emperor gripped the armrests of his throne so tightly that the marble began to crack. His black sclera and red pupils burned with absolute madness.
"Nero... Nero... NERO!" Caligula roared, his tattered red cape flaring. "She breathes! She marches! I must crush her... I must bring her the absolute love of Rome!"
Standing before the thrones, the older Iskandar crossed his massive arms. Though he had grown slightly from his youthful Rider form during the battle, his eyes still held the unmistakable, thrilling spark of a conqueror.
"Do not beat yourself up over the strategy, tactician," Iskandar laughed, his booming voice echoing through the hall. "The battlefield was a glorious chaos! My eternal rival, Darius, fell with the pride of a true king. But you must understand... the Master leading Nero's vanguard is no ordinary magus. He deployed teleportation magecraft instantly to evacuate their entire army. If we are to face them, we cannot rely on conventional formations."
"Tch. Teleportation and orbital strikes. How incredibly uncool," Charlemagne sighed, leaning against a marble pillar. The Holy Roman Emperor rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, his blue eyes narrowing. "Where is the romance in a fight if they just run away or nuke the field from the sky? If they come here, I'll show them a true, spectacular clash of blades."
Nearby, the two Amazon Queens bristled with pure, unrestrained bloodlust.
Penthesilea ground her teeth, her silver hair swaying as she aggressively flexed her clawed gauntlets. "Cowards. Hiding behind orbital lights and teleportation. If they dare step foot near this capital, I will tear them limb from limb!"
Hippolyta placed a calming hand on her sister's shoulder, though the Goddess of War sash on her right arm pulsed with an intense, fiery magical energy. "Patience, Penthesilea. The enemy has proven they possess overwhelming firepower. We must meet them with equal, crushing force."
From the shadows near the back of the room, Amour, possessing the body of Caren Hortensia, let out a cynical, mocking chuckle. The God of Love adjusted her decorative horns, her eyes utterly devoid of warmth.
"How tragic. So much violence, all for the sake of a throne," Amour smiled sadistically. "But I suppose the truest form of love on the battlefield is the absolute devastation of your enemies. Let us see whose 'love' is stronger."
Suddenly, the air in the throne room grew infinitely heavy. The bickering, the madness, and the tactical debates instantly ceased.
On the highest, central throne, the massive, two-meter-tall figure of Romulus stood up. The Founder of the Roman Empire looked down upon his assembled legends. His dark bronze muscles tensed, and his red pupils glowed with an overwhelming, god-like authority. To Romulus, the loss of a city was trivial. To him, the entire world, even their enemies, was already Rome.
He raised his arms wide, as if ready to embrace the heavens themselves.
"Do not despair, my children! For even in defeat, we are expanding our love! Gaul is Rome! The Anti-Roman Empire is Rome! Even the false Emperor, Nero, is Rome!" Romulus's voice boomed like thunder, shaking the very foundations of the capital. "If they march upon our walls, we shall not cower! We shall open our arms and greet them with the absolute, crushing weight of our love!"
Zhuge Liang pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, completely unfazed by the Founder's theatrical display. The modern-suited tactician stepped forward, tapping a stack of magical reports against his palm.
"Your 'love' is going to be tested very shortly, Founder," Zhuge Liang stated flatly, bringing the room back to the grim reality of their situation. "My scouts report that Emperor Nero is not resting. Her army was subjected to a massive, army-wide conceptual enhancement spell. They are currently marching on this capital at an impossible speed. They will be at our gates before nightfall."
The tactician turned to look at the heavy hitters of the United Roman Empire—Charlemagne, the Amazons, Caligula, and Iskandar.
"The tactical board has shifted. The time for ambushes and pincer attacks is over," Zhuge Liang declared, his eyes cold and calculating. "We are now facing a direct, supercharged siege. Prepare your weapons and assume defensive positions at the main gates. We make our final stand here."
DUUAAARRRR!!!!!
Before the sound even reached them, the southern horizon was violently erased by light.
A colossal pillar of iridescent, prismatic energy—a tear wept by the God of War—pierced the heavens and drove itself directly into the heart of Gaul. It was a sight of terrifying, majestic beauty. The pitch-black night sky fractured like stained glass, instantly painting the heavy clouds in violent, swirling streaks of crimson, gold, and piercing azure. Massive, concentric rings of pure, divine heat expanded outward from the epicenter, vaporizing the very atmosphere and turning the horizon into a kaleidoscope of absolute destruction.
For a fraction of a second, there was a haunting, breathless silence.
Then, the sound hit. It was not a mere explosion; it was the agonizing, deafening roar of the World itself being conceptually severed.
A tectonic shockwave—a visible, towering tsunami of displaced air, shattered earth, and sparkling mana—rolled across the continent with god-like momentum. When the kinetic surge slammed into the capital of the United Roman Empire, the colossal marble pillars of the throne room groaned like dying giants. Golden banners were violently ripped from their fixtures, the stained glass windows shattered into dust, and the very ground rolled beneath the Emperors' feet as the sheer, majestic weight of Altera's Teardrop Photon Ray asserted its dominance over the earth.
Standing on the balcony of the throne room, Zhuge Liang didn't even flinch as the violent winds whipped his suit and tie, his sharp eyes locked onto the towering, fading rainbow in the distance.
"There it is. The Anti-Roman Empire has attacked Gaul again with their orbital strike," Zhuge Liang stated, his voice cutting through the ringing silence of the room, entirely unfazed by the majestic display of annihilation. He turned back to the assembled Emperors and Queens, his mind calculating a thousand variables a second.
"Listen closely," the strategist commanded. "If the Roman Empire is being led by a truly exceptional tactician, they will not rest to recover..."