This strike was inevitable!
This strike would reduce Rome to nothing before the might of Attila, the Hun Queen.
No mortal could resist such an attack.
The instant she unleashed the tricolored beam of light that could destroy Rome itself, Attila had already sheathed her Sword of Mars, not sparing Tiberius another glance. But just as she turned to speak, her adjutant's face twisted with terror.
"My Queen… Attila…" he stammered, "What is… that?"
At the same moment, an inexplicable sensation gripped Attila, and she whipped around, fixing her gaze on the place where Tiberius had fallen.
There, still standing before Rome's gates, Tiberius's unyielding form loomed. Before him emerged a shadow cloaked in an ominous crimson glow, emanating a distorted yet commanding presence.
The figure was beyond categorization—neither male nor female, neither old nor young, neither saintly nor sinful…
Yet it seemed to embody everything. Male and female, elder and child, saint and sinner… all within one form.
The figure encapsulated the essence of a civilization, radiating a sinister, crimson aura of corrupted power, offset by a blinding, glorious light. It felt like an entity of both immense grandeur and profound falsity.
"What… what manner of monster are you?"
Attila's previously calm expression hardened, and she demanded of the red figure, "Do you intend to stand in my way, to prevent me from destroying Rome?"
The crimson figure laughed. "Destroy Rome?" they scoffed. "I am Rome!"
The figure continued, "I am Rome itself, the King of Kings, the God of Gods of this land. Barbarian Queen, if you seek to destroy Rome, you face me as your foe."
"Thus, Rome will answer with vengeance!"
Finally, the fearful red aura dissipated, revealing a grand and illustrious figure, one radiant with the unmistakable light of civilization.
Where Attila, the Hun Queen, was a destroyer of civilizations, a scourge of the world's order, this figure was the incarnation of a pinnacle of civilization.
In this presence, Attila could glimpse the Rome that had arisen from the Seven Hills, had built itself into a mighty city-state and a vast empire, a Rome that stood unmatched in governance, military might, philosophy, art, and law.
A Rome whose authority and influence over others was rivaled only by Eastern Huaxia, the twin stars in humanity's ancient history.
Appearing before Attila now was no broken, splintered Western Rome but the entirety of the Roman Empire's thousand-year glory!
This was Rome at its zenith, the beacon of humanity's greatest achievements.
Indeed, as Nero once claimed, I am Rome, and Rome is me.
This figure was Nero, and yet not Nero—a Beast, yet more than a Beast.
In his final moments, Tiberius had summoned a terrifying savior for Rome. Undoubtedly, the Beast Nero would drive Attila back.
But as a Beast, Nero was no longer the Roman Emperor she once was.
The crimson figure's gaze fell on Attila with a touch of disdain. She asked, "Queen of barbarians, Hun Queen—why are you silent?"
"Are you perhaps captivated by Rome's—the beauty that surpasses even the gods?"
"…Monster!"
After a pause, Attila could only utter that single word.
Yes, only "monster" could describe Nero now, a grand yet grotesque, twisted, and terrifying existence.
This being was no longer a single person but the essence of Rome's thousand-year heritage, embodying all the gods, legends, and mythologies of Rome, the sum of every belief and shining figure that Rome had ever produced.
This single entity displayed to Attila all that Rome was.
But this was no human.
She was Rome—a Beast—but never a man!
The figure had a human form, human gestures, and yet the deep and twisted will within was anything but human.
Attila drew her Sword of Mars from her side, her gaze steely as she regarded "Rome" before her. The Hun soldiers saw only the enchanting, otherworldly beauty of this being—a distorted allure that drew them in helplessly.
Charm, after all, was a part of Rome.
But as an avatar of the White Titan, a celestial predator of astral bodies, Attila saw the twisted and profound terror within. And with it, she also saw the gleaming, radiant civilization.
She was Rome—she was civilization.
She was the gods, the emperors, and the people of Rome, all at once.
"Rome is a corrupt civilization!" Attila declared once more, ignoring the entranced soldiers around her. Eyes flashing with cold determination, she raised her sword high.
"A corrupt civilization must be destroyed!!"
In that moment, she poured all her power into her sword: the divine authority she commanded as the Scourge of God, the avatar of Mars's wrath, the natural adversary and bane of civilizations, the power to consume and erode all…
Everything she possessed was focused into a single strike.
This was her duty as the Hun Queen, the cosmic predator.
If her earlier attack had been a casual blow, this was now Attila's all-out assault, an attack on par with the full might of the White Titan, the celestial warrior.
Yet, before such a destructive blow, enough to annihilate even gods, Beast Nero merely chuckled.
"Oh?" she sneered, "Is this all the might you possess? And you dream of toppling Rome—me?"
"Barbarian, do you believe such a strike could possibly harm me, who spans three continents, ruling over five million square kilometers?"
"Could your strike defeat the powers of all Roman gods, the sovereignty embodied by Rome itself?"
"Could it destroy humanity's brightest civilization, the glory that is me, Rome?"
Nero's face radiated Roman pride and disdain for all things barbaric, each question dripping with a weighty, epoch-spanning grandeur.
With ease, Nero unleashed the Primeval Flame, deflecting Attila's divine strike in a single motion. As their energies clashed, the shockwave alone reduced the ten thousand Hunnic soldiers behind Attila to ash…
Their gazes turned blank.
The field fell silent, white ashes sweeping across the landscape in a solitary breeze.
And behind Nero, Rome stood unscathed—a stark contrast.
Attila staggered under an invisible weight as though crushed by ten thousand mountains. Yet her warhorse showed no sign of feeling the burden.
This was a true reversal; where Nero's counterstrike had been effortless, Attila had exhausted her full strength.
As the incarnation of Rome's thousand-year legacy, every casual blow Nero struck was backed by Rome's accumulated history and glory.
Attila coughed up blood, reeling back. This was the first time the Hun Queen, the Scourge of God, had been wounded so grievously, teetering on the brink of death.
Even the Sword of Mars—crafted from the remains of Ares, god of war—was splintering under Nero's force, fracturing until it snapped in two.
For all its might, the Sword of Mars was only the artifact of a single god.
But now, Nero was the embodiment of all Roman gods, the sum of Rome's legends and faith. Even the sword formed from a god's body could not withstand the Beast Nero's blow.
"Ah~ Finally, I've stretched these blessed limbs of mine… Well then, Queen of Nomads, barbarian ruler, do you still dare to boast of Rome's destruction?"
In stature, Nero was petite, her figure delicate and lithe, only her vibrant, emerald-green eyes betraying the mirthful glint of her amusement as she looked up at Attila's towering form.
In the eyes of ordinary people, she was but a radiant girl, her golden hair crowned with a stray ahoge, her jade-green eyes full of wit, her red and white attire a splendid robe that exuded nobility.
But to Attila's eyes, she was a twisted horror clad in elegance, with ears like a fox, the horns of a ram, the claws of a lion, the wings of a dragon, feathers like a raven…
Clad in scales like ornaments, her arms draped to her feet, a face full of raw, bestial magic.
She was the Beast, the terrifying 666 Beast of Revelation.
"The beast I saw was like a leopard, its feet like a bear's, its mouth like a lion's. The dragon gave the beast his power, his throne, and great authority…"
"There's no need for more words, Beast of Rome."
Attila wiped the blood from her mouth and continued, "Victory belongs to the conqueror. I, Attila, am a warrior of Mars, and I will not leave defeated."
"But I find no sadness in this. You, with all your monstrous distortions, will be the very thing that destroys Rome in the end."
Attila spoke with a voice devoid of attachment or fear: "In that case, my wish will still come true. As long as this corrupt civilization falls, I, Attila, shall not be defeated!"
"Ah~ So, barbarian queen, that is your final message?"
Nero scratched her cheek lightly with a clawed finger, nodding as she replied, "Then Rome has heard it."
With a simple flick of her wrist, crimson magical energy coalesced into a binding force, drawing Attila and the broken Sword of Mars into her aura of civilization and glory.
He was the radiance and sum of all Rome's legacies.
This was the power of the Empire's thousand-year cultural might, Rome's authority to conquer and assimilate all it encountered, and so Beast Nero devoured Attila, the cosmic predator of stars.
And thus, the Beast Nero inherited Attila's strength as well.
"'The Scourge of God,' hmm? Such a title brings me great delight."
As the Beast of 666 in Revelation, Nero possessed many terrible names: the Great Red Dragon with Seven Heads and Ten Crowns, the Whore of Babylon, the Fallen Star of Dawn…
It felt only fitting that she had now vanquished the Scourge of God.
"Ah~ It must be that only someone as magnificent as myself could achieve such a marvelous feat."
Clapping her hands, Nero announced, "Such a glorious moment calls for a grand concert, so that every Roman can experience firsthand the divine beauty of my voice… a voice that surpasses even Apollo himself!"
"Let it be constructed—the Tower of Rome! To display the ultimate light!"
"Come forth! To my Golden Theater that will set your hearts ablaze!!"
In Rome, where the people languished in sorrow over the looming destruction of their nation, no one noticed that their savior was Rome itself.
Suddenly, a vast dome of light manifested, encapsulating the city as a theater of gold. The Romans found themselves bound to their seats, unable to escape.
Whether it was the cowardly Nepos, the scheming Euric, or the fearful citizens, every Roman was seated in Nero's Golden Theater, as if awaiting a grim performance.
The million Romans looked at one another, fear and confusion in their eyes.
They had already braced themselves for invasion by the Huns, prepared for a city besieged. Yet here they were, shackled to seats within this immense golden auditorium, held captive by a force of unimaginable power.
The people felt like prisoners awaiting judgment, paralyzed by terror.
Nepos and Euric shared a glance, each seeing the shock in the other's eyes. As leaders, they knew they were caught in a high-level magic, a Reality Marble.
Yet the Huns possessed no magic, relying only on Attila's raw might.
But Nero had no intention of letting them wait long. The self-absorbed Nero, in a flash of arrogance, reappeared before them in even finer attire, ready to perform for her nation.
In her mind, all humanity would be entranced by the irresistible allure of Rome, captivated by its supreme charm.
"Romans, rejoice! *I, Rome, stand before you!"
The lights dimmed, focusing on the stage, with Nero standing at its center.
"I am the greatest emperor of Rome, Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus!"
The Romans could not immediately grasp who "Nero" was, but for the scholars, priests, and nobles among them, it was clear. They knew well the infamous tyrant of Rome's Julian-Claudian dynasty, the fifth and final emperor of the line.
They knew this Nero, who had led Rome into ruinous decline, almost singlehandedly driving Rome into disarray.
This tyrant had brought Rome to the brink of collapse, and only with the advent of the Five Good Emperors did the empire once again reach greatness.
To see this infamous emperor, now a ghastly, twisted figure, standing before them… it was a scene out of a nightmare.
'What happened to the Hun invaders?'
'Are you here to save Rome?'
'Why can't we move?'
'How is this tyrant back in the land of the living?'
A million minds buzzed with questions.
If not bound by the Golden Theater, the noise of their curiosity would have filled the air, as Romans sought answers from their emperor.
After all, it was a right of every Roman citizen.
But here in the Golden Theater, silence reigned, a stillness so absolute it felt like death, save for the voice of Nero at center stage, basking in the light.
In her self-centered way, Nero viewed these voices as an unnecessary distraction, marring her flawless art with mundane noise.
She cared little what the Romans thought of her—tyrant or monster alike—only that they witness the grandeur of her song, the melody that would be her own tribute to Rome's salvation.
"Ah~ My Romans, it was I who saved the Roman Empire!"
But the empathetic Nero considered the Romans' plight. In their terror, they might not fully appreciate her song.
To calm her citizens, Nero condescended to explain, "That barbarian from the East—the arrogant Hun Queen—is already dead, slain by my hand."
"After all, how could one as glorious as I be defeated by a mere barbarian?"
She paused, her gaze sweeping over her captive audience. "There is no need to worry about her any longer!"
Having swiftly reassured them, Nero plunged into her true purpose: "Now, behold the unmatched beauty of my divine song!"
And with that, she began to sing.
"…"
The Romans, having heard that the danger to Rome had passed, took some comfort in her words.
If Rome was indeed saved, they could set aside their fear.
A song, after all…
The emperor's saved Rome—surely a quick song, and they could go home…?
Or so they thought.
But Beast Nero was adamant that all must hear her song.
With no choice but to listen, the Romans realized that her voice brought no joy, only agony, a kind of rapture laced with suffering, as they endured her music.
Forcing them to remain bound, unable to cover their ears, Nero's song imposed a shared expression of exquisite pain upon the crowd, unified by their mutual discomfort.
In a sense, it was a remarkable feat: a million individuals of different tastes, backgrounds, and experiences, all reacting in perfect synchrony.
Immersed in her self-adulation, Nero remained oblivious to their suffering. As each song ended, the theater compelled the Romans to cheer and applaud.
This endless performance… who knew when it would end.
—
By the time Rome had been besieged and its people subjected to Nero's concert, Saint Kaelar had laid the foundations of law and civilization for the Kingdom of Britannia.
Every civilization, at its core, was built upon a set of rules.
Whether laws, or values, these were what sustained a society.
And so, the Chinese emperor referred to Christianity as "Western Confucianism," seeing in its essence a similarity to the Confucian doctrines that ruled the East.
If Britannia adhered to these principles, perhaps it could shed its label of barbarism and step into the light of civilization.
Religion, after all, marked an advancement over primitive beliefs.
"The code, the government, the pathways to ascend…"
Kaelar mused, "Officials serve the source of their power. If you ensure that the officials serve those above, you can keep the state secure."
In that moment, he condensed a timeless truth: Those with power will always serve its source.
The highest form of this was the unity of kingdom and king, the divine right over all, from which all power flowed.
Ever since that day he broke the sword, Kaelar had treated Artoria with the same guidance as ever. But now, it seemed, the Lion King of Britannia had grown distant, her manner towards Kaelar turning cold.
Kaelar cared little for this. Children, after all, were bound to rebel.
Artoria had been by his side since the age of five; he had seen her grow, had been with her through her trials and triumphs, knowing her more deeply than any.
With such deep affection, Kaelar held no room for bitterness toward Artoria; it was like a parent's unconditional love.
Stretching, he casually called for a sprite. "Bring this proposal to King Arthur, and ask her to enact the new tax laws of equal rates and exemptions across Britannia."
Thinking he could finally rest, Kaelar waited but found that no sprite came to take the proposal. Curious, he looked up to find Artoria standing there, watching him with a conflicted, hesitant expression.
After days apart, this beautiful, dignified girl seemed to have matured even more, prompting Kaelar to reflect on how troublesome Excalibur had proven to be.
Since Artoria had drawn the sword, her body had remained fixed in that of a fifteen-year-old, a strange limbo of youthful power and innocence. But now, with Excalibur broken, she seemed to be growing up once more, her figure subtly shifting towards a future promise of strength and grace.
"Lily? What brings you here?" Kaelar raised a brow, relaxed. "Just in time. Pass me that pork cutlet, would you? I haven't eaten yet, and if this goes on, I'll starve!"
Wordlessly, Artoria handed him his cold dinner.
Kaelar rubbed his hands together, conjuring a flame to warm it. "This era is inconvenient, but magic really makes up for it, doesn't it?"
"So, Lily, what's on your mind? Another problem in Britannia? Am I to be put to work again? Well, let's talk while I eat."
"Kael…" Artoria hesitated before continuing, looking troubled.
Kaelar chuckled. "Go on, Lily. What's on your mind? I didn't expect to see you unsure of anything!"
"If others saw the Lion King of Britannia, or the would-be Empress herself, unsure… they'd be shocked!"
Since coming, Artoria had steeled herself, but Kaelar's warm, steady gaze encouraged her resolve, and she finally spoke.
Her brows knitted, she said, "Kael… before Merlin left to seek the Holy Lance, he gave me a prophecy. I don't know what to make of it and… only you could help me with this."
---
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