"Commander, the mission is complete. Nero-sama is safe and sound. Allow us through the defensive line so we can return to Rome and report in!"
As the gate began closing again, the centurion raised his voice and restated his case.
"The Hunnic cavalry has been especially active lately. By order of the Pantheon, every province is to hold fast and guard its borders strictly, lest spies slip in. You've had contact with the Hunnic wolf riders, so your identities are now in doubt. And there are Celts among your ranks. Who knows what they might be hiding?"
The commander of the Seventh Legion leisurely inspected his fingernails. His tone was unhurried, but every word pressed down aggressively.
"We fought the Hunnic wolf riders to the very end at Lonely Hill. The alliance between the Celts and Nero-sama is real and beyond question. These two priestesses traveling with us can testify to that!"
The centurion raised a hand and pointed behind him.
The two priestesses in the carriage, survivors who had been treated with courtesy by the Celtic tribe, hurried out and nodded in agreement.
"You've long been mixed in with each other already. None of your testimony is credible. Without orders from above, no one is passing this defensive line!"
The commander flicked his nail and gave a careless sneer.
"You want orders from above? Fine! There must be a temple to Mars, Rome's god of war, inside the fortress, yes? By virtue of the blood of House Claudius, I can preside over a sacrifice and petition the Pantheon for a reply. If you're afraid of my soldiers, then lower a basket. I can go to the temple alone!"
Just as the two sides were locked in a stalemate, Nero lifted the curtain, raised her chin, and stared back proudly at the commander in the distance.
"Surely twenty thousand Roman soldiers are not afraid of one little girl?"
Feeling the hesitant looks from the soldiers around him, the commander's eyelid twitched, and his expression stiffened for a moment.
It was not this half-grown little girl he truly feared.
The only thing he really feared was the Pantheon.
After all, the imperial heirs of every great family were basically recorded there. If this matter were dragged all the way up to the divine ancestor, it would be difficult to clean up afterward.
"Hmph. You lost to the Hunnic wolf riders and were captured by the Celts. You have long been colluding with them in secret, disgracing the honor of House Claudius! Lady Agrippina the Younger has already expelled you from the Claudius family!
"So if you think you can step onto Roman soil, abandon that fantasy. I'll give you ten seconds. Go back where you came from. Otherwise, you will be executed on the spot!"
With a cold snort, the commander displayed the glorious crest of House Claudius and openly slandered Nero, Boudica, and the others. At his raised hand, the archers hesitated for only a moment before lifting their bows and aiming their cold arrowheads at the people below the wall.
"You're lying! I am the genius adored by the masses. I have never lost!"
Faced with such shameless slander, the proud Nero puffed up in anger and tried to step forward to argue with him.
But the commander at the battlements finished counting to ten and brought his arm down without mercy.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The sound of arrows tearing through the air erupted all at once.
Arrow after arrow shot down toward the carriage below. In the blink of an eye, the centurion and the tyrant beside him were about to be turned into pincushions.
Hum!
But in that very instant, Ether surged through three figures, bursting forth in dazzling light as they alternated in a forward charge.
I swear to the goddess!
Battle Continuation!
Andraste's Blessing!
Boudica held sword and shield in hand, chanting silently. Her nameless Sword of Victory moved with effortless precision, sweeping outward in a brilliant silver-white fan and knocking down the rain of arrows.
At the same time, the round shield she raised lit up with Rune symbols across its surface, forming a massive triangular barrier that protected the entire carriage within it.
Meanwhile, the Valkyrie in her haori stepped gracefully across Magecraft arrays forming in midair, like a swan dancing across the sky, performing a solitary war dance on the way to the battlefield.
Neigh!
In an instant, a milky-white pillar of light shot into the heavens, and from within it burst forth a Pegasus with silver wings, lifting its neck with a joyful cry.
"Loose arrows! Loose arrows! Where are the Magi and the priests? Hurry!"
The terrifying tide of Mana made the pampered commander struggle to breathe. His expression changed drastically as he hurriedly summoned the legion's Mysteries.
A dense rain of arrows fell once more. Long, strained chants echoed from inside the wall as spell projectiles were launched into the sky and Magecraft arrays formed one after another.
Brynhildr flipped cleanly onto her mount. The blue-violet spear in her hand ignited with a cold, ghostly blue flame filled with killing intent.
Mana Charge! Primordial Runes!
Wrapped in ghostly blue flames and Rune symbols, rider and steed surged forward against the overwhelming assault.
Arrows that barely came within three meters of Brynhildr were instantly frozen and burned away by the surrounding blue fire, breaking apart piece by piece.
The dense spell projectiles struck like stones tossed into a lake, creating only faint ripples before the Rune symbols shattered them.
The Valkyrie drove forward like an unstoppable spear, reaching a point less than ten meters above the wall. The cold gleam of her spear made the commander's soul tremble. Grinding his teeth, he frantically ordered his troops to suppress her advance while calling for a shield formation to protect him.
"Hah!"
But just as Brynhildr was about to seize the commander in one swift push, the priests behind the formation raised their hands solemnly.
Four groups of Roman soldiers gathered together, their bodies glowing with golden-red light. They immediately drew their javelins and hurled them with explosive shouts.
Sharp whistling sounds tore through the air one after another.
Brynhildr felt a faint sting in her brow. Instantly sensing danger, she tightened her grip on her spear and spun the blade to deflect the attack.
The moment her spear met the falling javelins, her hand paused slightly and her movement slowed.
A heavy realization sank into her mind.
That force matched the strength of elite Nordic warriors driven into frenzy by divine enchantments.
Worse still, the javelins were not only powerful but perfectly coordinated, crossing one another to form a tightly woven net that was difficult to break through.
The Roman legion on the wall immediately seized this fleeting opportunity.
Suppression spells, heavy ballista bolts, divine incantations, and Magecraft all rained down toward the Valkyrie in midair, pinning Brynhildr in place for the moment.
As the priests, drenched in sweat, continued chanting the name of Mars, the golden-red glow flowed across the Roman soldiers.
They looked like gilded statues, while dark red blood energy seeped from their pores and gathered together above them, forming a massive blood-red wolf.
Blood Dominion... the Roman battle formation...
So that is how it works.
Looking at the crimson-covered wall, Samael fell into thought. A trace of disappointment soon appeared in his eyes.
Unfortunately, although the Roman legion had manifested a fragment of Ares's divine authority through their formation, he still sensed no sign of that old acquaintance appearing.
Still, it was not entirely without gain.
Without heroes of divine blood, Rome must have relied on these human battle formations that condensed divine power to stall the repeated offensives from Persia and the Huns.
A herd of wild buffalo that knows how to cooperate might force lions and cheetahs to retreat in panic.
But what if what they faced was a dragon?
Humans have limits.
Samael shook his head lightly, his gaze turning cold.
"Spear! Runes! In the name of the great god Odin, grant me strength!"
At the same time, Brynhildr, having been repeatedly forced back, seized a moment of space.
She summoned her divine iron shield to block several waves of arrows, awakened her swan armor, spread her wings of light, raised her spear high, and shouted with a fierce expression.
Boom!
As Ether and emotion surged wildly into the weapon, the blue-violet spear expanded to a length of a hundred meters amid flashing Rune symbols and slammed violently into the wall.
With a single strike, the entire structure shook violently.
Large sections of the Magecraft-reinforced masonry split with spiderweb cracks. The magical barrier covering the wall was blasted open with a terrifying hole. Hundreds of Magi coughed blood, their minds shaken and their faces filled with shock.
Where did that brat find a demigod?
The commander's pupils shrank to pinpoints as he inhaled sharply, fear spreading through his chest.
Report to the Pantheon. Pray for divine descent.
Just as the slightly overweight middle-aged man turned to run toward the temple inside the fortress, his feet refused to move forward no matter how hard he struggled.
"I say... where do you think you're running?"
A warm, low voice filled with amusement echoed beside his ear.
A pale hand was already resting on the man's shoulder.
Cold sweat poured down the commander's thick neck. His stiffly turning eyes saw that thousands of soldiers around him, along with numerous priests and Magi, had all frozen in place like clay statues.
It was as if a mountain weighed on their bodies. Veins bulged across their arms. Sweat poured down their faces.
Yet none of them could move even slightly.
Every one of them looked like lambs awaiting slaughter, their eyes filled with terror.
Divine grace as vast as the sea.
Divine might like a prison.
It was actually... a god.
This is completely unfair... you can't play like this...
If he had known these two terrifying weapons were present, what was the point of fighting? He might as well have opened the gates and surrendered from the start.
The commander felt like he was about to cry.