Type-Moon, Is a Small Opening Still an Opening?

In the course of a year, Lucius would sometimes serve as Novia's spear instructor, teaching him the techniques of close combat. However, Novia had never seen him take out the Spear of Longinus.

"I heard that gladiatorial duels are sacred rites offered to the Roman gods. But that's inside an arena—and you're using a spear."

A clash of metal rang out like ice shattering, accompanied by Novia's voice.

The silver-haired youth raised his longsword high and stood with the blade held across him, smiling at Longinus, whose expression looked even worse than crying.

"Haven't you improved a little too quickly? Do you still need me following you around?"

The spear spun sharply through the air and fell toward Novia again. Just before it struck the ground, he caught it in one hand, then hurled it back at Longinus's feet with lightning speed.

"Come on, I promised I'd solve Biting Pain for you."

Novia sheathed his longsword at his waist, the smile still lingering on his face.

In Novia's plans, Lucius was an essential choice for bringing the Roman Praetorian Guard under his control. As for the forty-five provinces beyond Rome, once he successfully replaced polytheism with Christianity, there would naturally be plenty of opportunities to politically integrate them and unify their faith.

"I hope so... But are you really confident now, if you're going into Rome?"

Lucius slowly picked up his spear and planted it into the ground some distance away.

Their fights had always been wholehearted and focused. Over the past year, after so many exchanges, Lucius himself had hardly improved at all. Instead, he had keenly felt just how terrifyingly fast the fifteen-year-old before him had grown. There were now many times when he had to think carefully before making a move.

Lucius also understood that Novia's combat skills and strength were already evenly matched with his own, perhaps even superior. If Mystery had still been more abundant, Novia might have grown into a hero of myth. But unfortunately, the times had changed.

"I heard that the Roman expeditionary army, blessed by a miracle, thoroughly defeated the British coalition. Was that your doing?" A teasing glint flashed in Lucius's eyes before his face suddenly returned to a soldier's usual coldness. "I never expected you to deceive tens of thousands of magi."

"A miracle? Deceive them? Hahaha, impossible. Any magecraft produces fluctuations of magical energy."

Novia chuckled twice, then lazily turned and headed toward Rome.

"For this era, it truly was a miracle."

In the first century AD, creating a fiery red illusion in the sky without the technological means of later generations required some special methods.

Novia's method was to build and use hot-air balloons or similar flying devices, releasing fiery red suspended particles to form a crimson illusion in the sky.

To be fair, this method required skill and experience, and the technology and equipment of the time were rather crude, so the result might not have been as good as he had imagined.

But as far as the outcome went, Novia believed he had handled it quite smoothly. There were no flying demonic beasts to investigate, and even if the magi on the ground looked up, they would probably mistake his hot-air balloon for nothing more than a red star.

Therefore, Novia had been telling the truth when he called it a miracle—though it needed a qualifier: man-made.

Moreover, according to Novia's deductions, Rome's conquest of Britain, like Britain's inevitable destruction five hundred years later, was an inevitable event left upon human history. It could not be rewritten. In other words, even without the miracle, Rome would have won.

So when he saw the Roman expeditionary army at a disadvantage, he still acted according to his original plan. Otherwise, after going so far as to stage a "miracle" blessing, if they still lost, wouldn't that be an utterly humiliating loss of face?

Before long, Novia and Lucius arrived at the gates of Rome, the center of the Empire.

"Your Excellency, you must be Novia."

Novia had long been mentally prepared for the possibility that he would be arrested the moment he arrived in Rome.

More than a dozen men approached menacingly alongside several soldiers. They were clearly waiting specifically for him; after all, Novia's silver hair was rather conspicuous.

"I am Novia, from Anatolia Province."

The silver-haired youth's naturally sincere words and total lack of resistance made Lucius's eyes widen. He had been prepared to fight immediately—otherwise, he would not have put on equipment he had not worn in years.

But before he was taken away, Novia signaled Lucius with his eyes, telling him to wait for the time being.

It had to be said that prisons were extremely unfriendly places to survive, regardless of the era or country.

Take the cell Novia was in, for example. It had been built underground, with poor ventilation and little natural light or fresh air. It was crude, dark, and damp.

There were only a few basic furnishings, such as piles of straw and wooden beds, and both the quantity and quality of the food and water were most likely terrible.

But Novia did not particularly care. The environment was a little worse, the food a little spoiled—nothing serious.

Novia had been here for about three days, specifically waiting for Emperor Claudius to return from Britain and come see him.

After all, from the Emperor's perspective, the victory had only come through a miracle. By all reason and sentiment, he had to meet him at least once. The only question was what mindset he would have toward him. Moreover, according to the records, Claudius I was an emperor intensely afraid of having his power taken away, and had even expanded the scope of executions because of it.

Wasn't Constantine, who would establish Christianity as the state religion three hundred years later, only baptized and converted to Christianity when he was about to die? The initial reason had been his fear that Christianity would affect the stability of Roman imperial power.

Yet his baptism on his deathbed was precisely proof of Constantine's grave fear that "sins might not be forgiven," and was enough to demonstrate the firmness and sincerity of his Christian faith.

Novia did not think a single miracle would be enough to make Emperor Claudius immediately become a Christian. Unless he could cure the aftereffects of Claudius's polio, perhaps—but no mage in the entire Roman Empire could do that, and Novia did not believe he could either.

His decision to remain in prison until Claudius returned to Rome had also been deliberately planned.

Psychological pressure was terrifying. The "miracle" had already given Claudius the anxious feeling that a god was watching him. So upon learning that Novia, who was very likely the envoy of a new god, had been imprisoned, his mental defenses might very well collapse beyond control.

After all, the Age of Gods had ended less than fifty years ago.

"..."

Looking out through the cell's only window, Novia admired the beauty of the moon.

"Do not look at the moon. It is not something friendly."

Just then, the prison gate opened. Novia followed the voice and looked over. The newcomer was a dark-faced man of around fifty. He was clearly afflicted by an obvious illness, as he had to brace himself against his legs while walking, and one of those legs was bent and malformed.

"Oh?"

Seeing this, the silver-haired youth already had a fair idea of what was going on.

"I am Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Emperor of Rome."

"Your Majesty, I am Novia."

"You serve as a Divine Envoy. What do you seek?"

"I seek nothing, yet there is nothing I do not seek."

—Roman Annals, Volume Seventeen, Chapter One

" I seek nothing, yet there is nothing I do not seek."

To Claudius, the silver-haired youth's answer contained no falsehood whatsoever.

The cold night was not enough to make Claudius shiver. In the starless sky, only the moon shone. Novia stood beneath its light, reflected in the emperor's eyes. The sincerity in his words, together with that detestable moonlight, made for a strangely eerie sight.

Claudius I hated Diana not because his own illness could not be cured, but because of Rome's previous emperor—his nephew, the cruel tyrant Caligula.

At first, Claudius had considered Caligula an excellent emperor. But after Caligula fell gravely ill from gazing at the moon, he changed completely, ruling the ancient Roman Empire through irrational terror.

Thus, rumors spread among the people that Rome had already lost the protection of the gods.

Claudius's expedition to Britain was also meant to soothe the public's unrest.

"I have heard that Christianity originated from Judaism, yet your leader died in Jerusalem. Why did your god permit you to slaughter one another?"

With the emergence of a new god distinct from the Roman Gods, Claudius had raised his guard to the utmost. Having ascended the throne in middle age, he was incomparably obsessed with power.

Before coming here, Claudius had deliberately investigated Christianity in detail. He discovered that in Jerusalem, in the year 34, there had been a punishment that could only be called "absurd." The Jesus Christ whom Novia so fervently preached had died at the hands of his own people—the Jews.

This could not help but confuse him. Could it be that the god they worshipped enjoyed fratricide?

"The Jews style themselves apostles of God, yet they betrayed the covenant long ago. They are heretics."

Novia could not wait to separate the Christianity he preached from Judaism. Otherwise, once it replaced polytheism in the future, it would be troublesome if Judaism tried to ride its coattails. Sooner or later, he would find an opportunity to thoroughly purge Jerusalem.

After all, those people in Jerusalem had forced Jesus to die. In the Type-Moon world, weren't they blatant heretics?

Moreover, Christianity and Judaism were fundamentally at odds. The Jews wanted to stand above all others, while Christ preached that everyone was one of the chosen.

Therefore, before Novia could have Christianity replace Roman polytheism, he had to deal with Judaism.

"Jesus, the Son of God, died willingly. He willingly took humanity's sins to Heaven. Through this, God and humanity entered into an entirely new covenant: the 'New Covenant.'"

"But has the age of gods not already ended nearly fifty years ago? How is this god of yours any different from our Roman Gods? And what use is he to Rome?"

Claudius's response was calm as he observed Novia's reaction. In the end, he did not care in the slightest about the mess between Christ and the Jews. A miracle had undeniably been displayed, and that was enough.

Hearing this, Novia smiled inwardly. After saying so much, Emperor Claudius meant only one thing: what benefits could the god in Novia's mouth offer the Roman Empire right now?

Still, Novia admired him. In theory, the Roman Gods were Rome's ancestors, and the gods had vanished only recently. It seemed this Claudius was not as cowardly as the records claimed. Then again, if he truly were cowardly, how could he dare lead Rome's expeditionary army to Britain?

"Your Majesty, you became emperor because the Senate authorized it."

Novia took a step forward and met the gloomy emperor's gaze directly.

"...Surely the Divine Envoy jests. I became emperor by the will of the gods. After my death, I shall certainly become—"

In a sense, Claudius was correct. After all, Egypt's pharaohs also went to the realm of Egypt's gods after death.

However—

"Your Majesty, the age of the gods has ended. But my God is different. He still watches over the earth."

Novia wore a gentle smile that did not fit the atmosphere, his azure eyes fixed upon the expressionless emperor.

Anyone in the world with even the slightest understanding of mystery knew that the Age of Gods had already ended. Gods no longer walked the earth. Yet at such a time, a god's miracle had appeared. With a little thought, one might wonder whether this god was even more powerful than the gods of old...

It was precisely because a "miracle" had appeared in Britain that no one dared gamble on whether this god would act a second time.

Novia understood as well that without benefits, no amount of persuasion or intimidation would make Claudius agree to his proposal. If Claudius truly lost his head for no reason, how could Novia possibly withstand the ancient Roman Empire's army?

Thus, the silver-haired youth continued, "Your Majesty, Rome's gods each have many separate duties. Some govern industry, some commerce, love, wisdom, war. The Senate's power exists precisely because the gods' authority is divided and succession is uncertain."

"But for the great Augustus, one god, one emperor, and one empire would be the most proper order."

Novia spoke bluntly. He had already seen that Emperor Claudius cared only for power, so naturally he could not get along with a Senate that divided that power.

"...Enough! Do not jest. Faith in the gods must never be changed."

Just as Novia had predicted, Claudius was indeed tempted. Most people who reached that position wanted to turn imperial power into private property. The emperor would no longer be a public servant of the people; imperial authority had to be passed down to blood relatives like a private inheritance.

To Claudius, succession to the throne was practically synonymous with schemes and deception. Roman blood, obsession with power, and ruthless methods had all been displayed to the fullest throughout his life thus far.

But Emperor Claudius now stood at a point of hesitation. He retained some fear of the Roman Gods, yet also harbored the desire to seize complete control of imperial power.

Seeing this, Novia knew it was time to reassure this wavering emperor. He needed to take concrete action and make Claudius believe that he could rewrite the polytheistic faith that had endured throughout the ancient Roman Empire's history.

He could completely transform the Senate's authorization—authority granted by men—into Christianity's divine authority.

"I have heard that Greeks and Jews in Alexandria often erupt into bloody conflicts. I am willing to go and resolve it, displaying the glory of the great emperor."

"...Sigh. I had wanted to keep you here a few more days and see whether any of my children could receive God's glory." Claudius showed a reluctant expression, placing both hands on Novia's shoulders. Anyone unaware of the situation might have thought the two were acquaintances. "But since this is the request of you, the Divine Envoy, then it is also God's request. Naturally, I cannot keep you. How about this? Little Novia, set out tomorrow. Do not keep God waiting."

You old... emperor. You would not even let me have a proper meal before rushing me out, and you even added "little" to my name.

Novia barely managed to keep his expression under control. In the end, he still said with a sincere demeanor:

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

You couldn't catch a wolf without sacrificing a rabbit. Wasn't Novia working so hard now precisely so he could accomplish his goal smoothly in the future?

From the perspective of religious history, there was no such thing as monotheism defeating polytheism. Take the Mediterranean world, for example: Christianity competed with Manichaeism, Mithraism, the Isis Cult, Judaism, Neoplatonism, and more. These rivals were also highly "monotheistic" and philosophically refined faiths, not the primitive polytheistic worship people imagined.

"Monotheism" had never been anything new, nor did it necessarily represent progress.

Ancient Judaism's monotheistic worship of Yahweh had not given it any obvious advantage in its competition with the surrounding Near Eastern faiths, or with the later Hellenistic religions.

Nor was ancient Greek and Roman religion strictly "polytheistic." As early as the classical era, there had already been a tendency to regard Zeus as an absolute, primordial existence.

Claudius probably understood just how terrifying the religious power of a faith that unified the Empire's beliefs would be. But having never experienced it himself, he likely only thought it would at most end up in a stalemate like the current Senate—and imperial authority could still be inherited. Wasn't that a bargain?

However, the reformed Christianity Novia had created was nothing the current polytheistic faiths could compare to. Many polytheistic rituals were affordable only to the upper classes; for those at the bottom, they were simply beyond reach. Over time, this had also bred resentment. The equality brought by Novia's reformed Christianity was undoubtedly a new hope, one capable of sweeping across first-century Europe.

In monotheism, there was only one god standing high above all else. The implication was that everyone else was equally ordinary. It pulled commoners and emperors alike onto the same level, selling the most precious thing of all: equality.

The moment you believed in it, your soul stood on equal footing with the emperor's, because aside from God, no one was omniscient or omnipotent.

Organizations that could offer equality were always especially powerful.

And the reason Novia had specifically chosen Alexandria was not because bloody religious conflicts had long plagued the place, but because of—

Atlas Institute!

Governor of Britain, You're the One!

The ancient Roman Empire, which conquered Britain in AD 48, was a superpower with formidable economic and military strength, establishing its rightful position as the overlord of land and sea.

Ostia, the port city twenty-five kilometers from Rome, had been the most prosperous harbor since Rome conquered the Mediterranean.

The warm breeze unique to morning swept over the flags fluttering in the harbor. Beneath the clear sky, ships converged and crowds surged. Waves crashed against the embankment; sailors loaded cargo into the holds; merchants and passersby hurried back and forth along the shore, their voices rising and falling together. For a time, the port teemed with noise and lively clamor.