Gaius Julius Caesar, the Roman ruler who had made a resounding name for himself in history, returned to his residence. The flowers and cheers from the plazas and streets seemed to still surround him, bringing a faint, satisfied smile to his face. With the attendants' help, he removed his ornate armor and sat down in his favorite broad chair to ponder a few matters.
He was contemplating Rome's rule—his own rule. He had just completed the final purge of this great nation. The two men who had raised the rebellion—the two sons of Pompey—had been utterly crushed beneath the Roman army's advance. Caesar realized that his rule over the nation had reached an unprecedented peak. There was no longer any triumvirate, nor did he need to appoint consuls to share power with him. He had become the de facto sole ruler of this land. So what sort of status should this sole ruler have?
Caesar pondered the matter. He had no intention—or perhaps no opportunity—of destroying Rome's long-standing parliamentary system, so he would not become an emperor. The position best suited to him was still that of consul of the Republic, but he would be the only consul. Perhaps it should have a new name, such as dictator.
Caesar's thoughts began to drift. He seemed already to see the Republic's glorious future, as well as his own. He did not know about the assassination he was soon to face, nor that in just a few decades, his adopted son Octavian would lead Rome through its transformation from a republic into an empire. Even less did he know about the Ragnarok taking place far from the human world, which was bringing the rule of the gods to an end. All he knew was that some uninvited guests seemed to have entered