Heroic Tales
On the grid-shaped avenue connecting the seven hills, heavy, somber footsteps mingled with the echoes of rubbing armor plates and striking swords and shields, converging from all directions as dozens of elite hundred-man squads assembled at the Palatine Hill.
However, mysterious triangular symbols with embedded eyeballs lit up at various key passages in the Roman Forum below the Pantheon, causing the cobblestones to soften and collapse, turning into swirling quicksand that hindered the army's advance.
The Eye of Horus! Egyptian Sorcery!
The accompanying priests were suddenly awakened and immediately chanted divine incantations, working together to cast a purification spell to dispel the abnormal conditions on the ground and reopen the way forward.
But just as the reinforcements were busy clearing the quicksand, a woman with purple hair and brown skin, wearing a loose, cool robe, holding an eagle-headed staff, raised several pillars of wind, and walked out from the swirling sandstorm. She looked down at the several hundred-man teams that had come to her aid and spoke arrogantly.
"Romans, halt! I am Nitocris, the pharaoh favored by Horus, the god of the sky! If you go any further, I will show no mercy!"
"All personnel, charge!"
However, the well-trained Roman army, under the command of numerous Centurion, transformed into a wedge formation and launched a fierce attack without hesitation.
Tch, I knew it would turn out like this...
With a sigh, Female Pharaoh Nitocris tapped her eagle-headed staff, took out the scroll she had acquired the previous night from the inverted triangle Sorcery Array that had risen into the air, solemnly tore it open, and threw it in front of her.
Puff puff puff puff!
Amidst wisps of rising smoke, a coffin adorned with gold patterns peeled from the scroll and reappeared as a physical object.
"Mirror of Corpses, Mirror of Darkness. It has become a gateway, drawing terror to this place. --The Mirror of the Underworld Codex!"
Nitocris wielded her staff with an enigmatic grace, solemn and delicate. As she chanted divine incantations rapidly, a dark vortex of purplish-black appeared behind her. A circular mirror, its handle carved with the head of the Jackal God Anubis and flanked by pale wings, shimmered and projected a dim light.
"Awaken, warriors who slumber in darkness!"
In an instant, the golden coffin illuminated by the mirror of the underworld trembled violently, and the coffin lid, sealed by the secret coffin nails, was violently shaken off by the roar of the ether.
"Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar!"
Instantly, dozens of mummies, their bodies wrapped in talismanic strips, their skin as dry as firewood yet gleaming with a metallic sheen, rose from their coffins, their claws billowing black mist as they swung at the Roman Legions.
The sharp, piercing sound sent chills down their spines. Several Centurion at the tip of the cone-shaped array sensed the frantically surging Aether Particles, their expressions changed drastically, and they immediately lunged forward, raising their shields and roaring angrily.
"O Mars, God of War, burn my blood!"
As the army rallied, the boiling crimson blood clashed with several pounced mummies, creating a deafening explosion like metal scraping against glass. A violent surge of magic swept in all directions, and several Centurion, who were at the forefront of the attack, staggered backward, shattering several stone slabs with each step before finally stopping their momentum.
Roman Soldier flanking from both sides charged forward, shields raised, spears thrusting out, and short swords crashing down.
But the strong recoil struck, causing the swords and spears to bend dramatically, while the mummies wrapped in strips of cloth only had a few faint white marks on their bodies.
So hard!
The soldiers, their hands tingling and their chests feeling constricted, their pupils constricted, and they were filled with horror.
Of course!
These golden mummies were created by secret methods from beings with the blood of the dead. They are stronger than swords and possess immense strength. They are immune to low-level Magecraft and each can fight against a hundred enemies.
Hmph, with my warriors here, you won't get past me.
Nitocris raised her smooth chin, a hint of pride in her eyes, but as she glanced at the scattered scroll fragments on the ground, she felt a pang of emotion.
Although that eccentric woman was afraid of death, her method of hiding everything was truly ingenious.
Without her assistance, these Yangs would have had no way to be transported from Egypt to Rome undetected.
Legend has it that these scrolls were made using the finest Magecraft material— the World Tree Leaf.
Cyrus the Great spent a considerable amount of money to collect a certain quantity from various places for this operation.
The three kings certainly didn't go to such great lengths just to stop a coronation ceremony.
They wanted to... bleed Rome... cut out its flesh... remove its bones... even...
The Female Pharaoh looked up at the Pantheon, her eyes flickering, her expression unreadable.
Boom boom boom boom!
At the same time, dust billowed at various checkpoints, and elite hundred-man teams rushing to the aid from their respective garrisons were intercepted one after another.
"It is the setting sun of Egypt, revealing the serpent of the end. The last pharaoh commands— Serpent of Ending Dawn, descend upon this place!"
At the Arc de Triomphe, Cleopatra, the Female Pharaoh Cleopatra a white dress, blue hair and blue eyes, and blessed by the serpent god, leaped down from above. She raised her hand and waved, and a Golden Cobra formed from the Aether Light Flow coiled and attacked from the Sorcery Array behind her, charging wildly towards the assembled Roman army.
"Mithra, Lord of the Sun, Father of All Flames, whose source is light and whose power is fire, become my arrows!"
At the highest point of the Colosseum, a robust young man with black hair and brown eyes, standing atop a marble column, his gaze sharp as an eagle's, drew his bowstring taut, gathering firelight into arrows, and aimed them precisely at the Roman Centuria converging from various key points, blasting through the road and creating a hazy cloud of dust.
In an instant, from the top floor of the building, in the dark corners, behind the stone tablets and statues... archers wearing cloaks and moving like the wind emerged, chanting divine words as they rushed forward and fired in rapid succession.
Like a meteor streaking across the sky, the arrow tore through the dust and hurtled through the air!
Arash the Great Hero! The Meteor Legion!
Amidst the series of unexpected events, the three His Majesty the Emperors, overlooking the chaos in the city of Palatine Hill, paled and felt a strong sense of crisis. They immediately risked being attacked and killed by the Old Man of the Mountain, raised their greatswords, and broke through the numbing white mist released by the Foggy Drunkenness Hassan.
However, before the Imperial Guards could escape the maze, the surrounding vegetation and bricks gradually lost their color, and everything around them turned white, as if they had been stripped from the world.
"The pursuit is the next night. And then again... the pursuit of the next night. This is a never-ending story of desire woven from my words, which I narrate for the night, and here I write your Heroic Tales — One Thousand and One Nights!"
At the same time, as if chanting an ancient ballad, a dark-skinned beauty sitting on a Flying Carpet, quietly floating in mid-air, rolls up the two handles, intending to close the scroll that appears to depict the flowers, rocks, and a group of people on the Palatine Hill.
In the painting, amidst a swirling mist, the reinforcements trapped within are separated, each facing their own crisis.
They might be stopped by a majestic blue elf emerging from golden flames; or find themselves in the desert, battling forty bandits wielding scimitars; or be stranded on a deserted island, where a Persian ship is sailing by, and an adventurer named Sinbad is calibrating his cannons and firing lead bullets at the beach...
In the unfolding story, many intruders become increasingly entangled until they are completely lost.
Night Talk Narrated by Scheherazade! The Persian Sorcerers!
Fortunately, I survived and completed the mission...
Scheherazade breathed a sigh of relief, his fingers gripping the scroll slightly sweaty, his posture both devout and fearful.
Legend has it that she possesses a page of the Book of Fate, the supreme book of Persia, and this almost miraculous power was bestowed upon her by the Great Emperor who conferred the gods.
The battle intensified, with the Assassins' Order, who were moving about, launching another round of killings against the list in their memories, creating a bloody and brutal storm!