"Take formation!"
Using my mental link to the vampires I placed as commanders of my army, the order was swiftly carried over, and with unmatched speed, the crimson tide of my troops reshaped itself across the clearing.
Mars, of course, mirrored me. His legions advanced with precision, lines snapping into place with perfect discipline. Shields locked, spears bristling, banners fluttering gold and red. It was a beautiful sight, even I had to admit. Six thousand Roman troops, thundering forward as if Rome never fell.
But beauty often hides weakness.
In the trials of my ascension, when I re-lived a part of my past, I remember reading about a famous general who brought Rome to its knees. Outnumbered, outmatched, yet he won. He had let the Romans press into the center, letting them believe they had broken his line, until his wings folded in, closing like the jaws of a beast. Rome's greatest army had been devoured that day.
So why not repeat history?
"Mars…" I whispered, my lips curling. "Let me show you something worth remembering."
I split my army into five groups or companies.
The center mustered 1,200 troops; however, it was the weakest. I placed all of my tier one spearmen and archers. I had to sacrifice a little bit of quality for quantity, since no more resource points were being generated aside from the command tent. However, I turned a few of them into half-vampires to boost their strength a little.
As for my right wing and left wing, that's where I placed my strongest troops—a thousand each of fully equipped legionaries, longbow archers, and shortbow archers. And finally, the fourth and the fifth groups were comprised of 500 gladiators each, but these two groups were away from the battlefield, hidden from sight in the thick trees to my right and left sides.
"I hope you like my little surprise, Mars," I chuckled, as my spider swarm waited invisible behind the trees. They wanted to fight, but I refused.
"First company advances 100 steps!"
I gave the order, and the first company marched out forward, 1,200 troops heading directly into the massed might of Rome. It wasn't a surprise to say the least. After all, this is what I expected after all that rushing to secure the nodes.
Mars went all out on legionaries; his formation was simple and familiar. I read about it before—I think it was called "The Testudo" or "The Tortoise shell formation."
Rows of Roman shields snapped upward, locking into a shell of bronze and wood. A wall in the front, a ceiling above, and sides braced against cavalry charges. Arrows would break against it, spears would splinter, and even fire had little effect. A fortress of men.
But no fortress is without cracks.
My formation was a little strange, and I bet it made no sense to Mars.
An arrowhead, sharp and deliberate, my first company narrowing to a point instead of holding a flat line. To Mars, it must have looked stupid, naïve, reckless, or desperate, like a crude attempt to pierce his wall with raw numbers. He would see weakness. He would see me gamble. Good. Let him.
"KILL THEM ALL!"
"FOR ROME!"
We roared at the same time, my commanders echoing our cry. Roman spears rushed forward. Boots pounded the earth. Two armies screaming, sprinting straight into each other.
The clash came like thunder. My arrowhead smashed into the advancing tortoise, spears scraping against shields, iron on bronze, wood snapping, men screaming. The Romans did not break. They never broke. The testudo ground forward, absorbing the pressure, swallowing my troops like the tide consuming sand.
The tortoise did not yield. It pushed relentlessly, every step forward grinding into my soldiers, every shield locked so tight it was as if the Romans marched as a single, unbreakable beast. My spearmen snapped their shafts against the bronze wall, half-vampires hissed as they clawed at the gaps, arrows rained down only to glance harmlessly off the shell.
Still, my center pressed harder, bodies piling in, blood soaking the earth. The arrowhead drove deep, but it was swallowed whole, buried under the weight of Mars' discipline.
"Good." I nodded.
Mars believed he was winning. I could feel his confidence ripple across the battlefield, his golden banners surging further, his soldiers chanting, "Roma! Roma! Roma!" as they forced my center back step by step. To him, my line was breaking, and all he had to do was push harder to end it.
But that was the illusion. That was the trap.
"First company slowly retreat, Second and Third company—hold position!" I barked through the link. My wings did not move, not yet. They braced, watching, waiting. Arrows from my longbows cut into the flanks of the tortoise, but never enough to shatter it. The Romans ignored the losses, focused only on the center, and were blinded by their own momentum.
"PUSH FORWARD!"
I could hear Mars' roar over the thunder of their war drums.
The Romans surged deeper, step after step, their tortoise swelling forward as my first company bent beneath the pressure. My spearmen staggered, shields splintering, men and half-vampires alike dragged screaming into the golden wall of Mars' advance. The formation looked ready to collapse—exactly as I wanted.
"Steady…" I whispered through the link, my voice a serpent's hiss sliding into the ears of my commanders. "Wait for my mark."
Mars thought he had me. His legions chanted, the roar of "ROMA! ROMA!" rising louder, their confidence a tide as unyielding as their shield wall. They pressed deeper, filling the hollow I carved for them.
Because their numbers were greater than mine and their sole focus was on the weak center that was slowly retreating, their tortoise formation broke and spilled.
It was the slightest slip of balance. A gap between shields. And for a brief moment, there was no tortoise, just men marching—no shell to resist, no ceiling or walls to slow their enemy. And my command moved like lightning, the strike of a spear flashing quick as an adder's bite.
"NOW!"
The battlefield erupted at my command.
From the forests on both sides, my hidden gladiators surged like unleashed predators. Five hundred from the right, five hundred from the left, crashing into the exposed flanks of Mars' legions with a roar that shook the clearing. Steel met flesh, shields splintered, and men screamed as the disciplined Roman wall fractured under the sudden onslaught.
At the same instant, my second and third companies surged forward, no longer holding but folding inward, their thousand-strong ranks snapping shut like jaws around the swelling mass of gold and red. Longbows fired point-blank into the Romans, arrows slamming into necks, faces, and joints where armor failed. Shortbows picked off officers, their corpses vanishing under the press of bodies before they even hit the ground.
The tortoise collapsed.
What had once been a fortress had now turned into a trap. Their tight ranks, once their strength, became their cage. Packed too close, shields tangled, men stumbled over each other as my soldiers hacked into their sides and rear. And before Mars' brain could even register what happened—
The wet dream of every general was achieved.
A total encirclement of the enemy forces.
"Crush them," I whispered, my voice carried to every commander through the link. "Do not give them space to breathe."
WHOOSH!
"Oh!"
Out of desperation to save his army, Mars sent his two commanders—the ones he blessed—directly into the mouth of the encirclement, where the most chaos and brutality were occurring. Sadly for him, I was prepared for that.
"Go."
"Yes, General."
My two commanders were ready, and I had already blessed them before the battle. The female vampire I temporarily blessed with the Night concept, while the male legionary was blessed with War.
So they were able to overpower Mars' two commanders.
"FOR ROME!"
WHOOSH!
Mars' roar shook the battlefield, his golden aura spilling like fire over his legions. Their bodies stiffened, muscles bulging, eyes glowing with divine fervor. The battered shield wall shone once more, their voices rising in a frenzy:
For a moment, their desperation became strength. Blades cut deeper, shields shoved harder, my first company reeled beneath the sudden surge of power. The Romans pushed, clawing for air inside the cage I had built.
"Hehehe… It's no use, Mars…" But my lips only curled into a sharper smile.
"You think you're the only god who can bless their army?"
I raised my hand. Crimson light erupted, washing over my troops like blood poured across the field. The blessing of the Goddess of Breeding, Blood, Night, and War was not discipline, nor blind duty—it was hunger, lust, and zeal. My legion's eyes flared red, fangs bared, their moans mixing with war cries as they pressed closer, not with fear but with intoxicating madness.
"Drink, devour, destroy." My voice echoed through their veins.
The female vampire commander, wrapped in the borrowed concept of Night, blurred into smoke and shadow. She appeared behind Mars' blessed champion in the blink of an eye, her fangs sinking into his throat before his shield even rose. He swung wildly, glowing with Mars' power, but her body melted into darkness, blades of shadow skewering him until his roar turned to a gurgle.
"Nice."
At the same time, my male legionary commander—empowered by the concept of War—collided with Mars' other champion. Spears clashed, shields shattered, the sound of their duel echoing louder than the battle around them. Mars' commander struck with divine fury, but my chosen fought like a storm given flesh, each blow heavier, each strike sharper, until with a roar he drove his spear clean through the man's chest.
Both of Mars' blessed champions fell.
"Your walls are crumbling, Mars…" I whispered. "One stone at a time."
"Only you remain."
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