Chapter 224: Even the Moonlight is Beneath the Emperor!
Night pressed down.
Starlight slipped through it in broken streams, and the sky itself looked wrong, as if the laws that defined distance and weight had decided to mock humanity for daring to exist.
Below, the world fell into a silence that was not peace.
All things trembled.
All things seemed to wail without sound.
And in that suffocating stillness, thousands of warriors drew their blades and pointed them at the firmament.
They defied their commander's order.
Because they were soldiers.
And more than that, they were warriors.
Warriors did not retreat. Not when glory had a direction. Not when death had a name.
"This is our glory, my Lord."
Barghest's massive Machina God hovered in the air, the engines burning like a furnace heart. She grinned as she always did, as if the end of the world was merely a slightly more interesting hunt.
Above, an aurora white dragon beat its wings and surged upward.
Its surface was plated with countless layers of mechanical armor, and its outer shell folded and expanded, wrapping around Rowe's Machina God like a living mantle.
A dragon of brilliant aurora.
Rowe's first apostle.
"I am your apostle," a clear voice echoed into his perception, crisp as a bell. "So I will always fight beside you."
The giant dragon climbed higher, circling Rowe like a vow made visible.
Melusine still did not fully understand the purpose of her life.
But she feared death. She feared what came after death even more, the loneliness that would swallow thought and leave nothing but silence.
So she clung to the one who had dragged her out of dead quiet.
The one who had given her a human spiritual foundation.
The one who had dispelled the emptiness that used to fill her from rib to throat.
She inhaled, then spoke as if forcing the words into reality.
"I am willing to fight beside you."
"Willing to fight."
"This is not only your battlefield, Lord Rowe!"
The voices multiplied.
Countless voices.
An endless torrent of will flowed into Rowe's senses, not as noise, but as a single, stubborn chord.
Einzbern stood before the central tent, watching that will gather into shape.
"The will of humanity is unstoppable, even in the Age of Gods," she said softly, a hint of amusement in her tone. "So I cannot stop it either. Can I?"
She lifted the book in her hand and held it high.
Then she opened it.
From the pages, brilliant light poured out and spread, like fireflies made of pure intent. It threaded itself around the legion, around shields, around hands, around hearts.
The warriors of Rome raised their swords and felt something answer.
Power welled up from inside them.
Bodies began to float without conscious decision, as if the world itself had lost the right to weigh them down.
The radiance that spread through the air looked like stars blooming in the night.
No.
It was more dazzling than stars.
It was a miracle named humanity.
"So called magic has always been a miracle of humanity."
Einzbern smiled, truly happy, not resisting the surge but guiding it.
"So called soul is the outward flow of will, the shell around the spiritual core."
"As long as will does not perish, as long as thought endures, the soul is inexhaustible."
"Therefore."
She turned the page, and the light thickened.
"The vastness and tenacity of will have always been the greatest requirement for the materialization of the soul."
Einzbern bestowed the miracle of the Third Magic upon everyone.
She allowed souls, formed from overflowing will, to transform into tangible power.
Normally, this would be impossible.
The power of magecraft flows through Mystery drawn from the Root, and ordinary humans cannot bear it without being crushed, dissolved, or rewritten.
But the legions of Rome were united as one.
Thousands of people were one.
The strength of a single person was insufficient.
The strength of a thousand armies was more than enough.
Under that unity, Rome's warriors gained something vast and endless.
The warriors of Rome.
The entirety of Rome.
Shone like a galaxy.
This was the future Einzbern had always seen.
The future that belonged to humanity.
Yes.
At this moment, Einzbern's Third Magic was completed in full.
The materialization of the soul represented the future.
The future of the world belonged to humanity.
And so, magic had always been a miracle that belonged to humanity.
Drawing swords to the sky.
Crusading against the heavens.
That too was a miracle.
"What a bunch of troublesome kids," Rowe murmured.
He did not move. He only watched.
He had no reason to deny their will, no right to smother it when it had chosen to blaze.
After a moment, a mysterious smile surfaced on his face.
He looked toward the opposite side.
"Moon Princess."
"What do you think now?"
The collapsing night sky was closer.
Closer to the ground.
Closer to Rowe.
Within the blood red light, Brunestud's expression was pure disdain.
"What is there to think about?"
Her voice was cold, indifferent, as if she were commenting on dust.
"A swarm of ants."
"They dare point swords at us?"
Disdain did not prevent irritation.
What right did ants have to raise blades at the Moon?
Rowe's eyes narrowed, and his smile sharpened.
"Right?"
"Our existence is the right."
Whether he died no longer mattered to him in the way it once would have.
But the multitude below, raising their swords, made him understand something with painful clarity.
His choices had not been wrong.
Humans were great.
The will of humanity shone.
He raised his sword toward the sky.
"Then I invite all of you."
"With me."
"To shatter the blood moon."
The army advanced.
Javelins rose.
Shields locked into a wall.
Long spears thrust from the gaps with the precision of a machine built from flesh.
Boudica swung her sword, and the legion moved with her command, the red haired warrior's will cutting through fear like steel.
Barghest's massive fairy Machina God clenched its fists, engines spewing molten fire.
Baobhan Sith linked everyone's will, the red fairy apostle turning thousands of minds into a single blade.
Melusine's silver white machine dragon circled, guarding the formation like a saint's banner made of teeth and light.
Even though they were in the sky, it looked the same as it always had.
A march.
A battlefield.
For them, the sky had become another field of war.
A miracle.
A miracle of mortals, recorded and displayed by the silver haired Third Magician through the Third Magic.
Brunestud spread her hands, guiding the sinking night with a gesture that looked effortless.
"Ants. Die."
Rowe's Primordial Human form pointed his sword upward.
His iron wings vibrated.
From the chaotic core behind him, infinite tentacles extended like thousands of hands.
They pressed up against the firmament.
They held.
The commander led the charge, stepping into the fray himself.
Thousands of soldiers followed.
Javelins hurled into the void.
Shields resisted the descent.
Spears pierced into the vast darkness like the first pale edge of dawn.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
A colossal roar echoed above the continent, rolling across the world like a declaration.
From the Atlantic to the Pacific, across lands Rome had conquered and lands it had never touched, people saw it.
They felt it.
Under the oppressive fall of night, someone had raised a hand against the heavens.
Brunestud froze.
Her iridescent eyes narrowed.
Her golden hair fanned wide, skirt fluttering, but the emotion on her face shifted into something severe.
Because the pressing sky stopped.
It no longer sank.
It no longer fell.
It was being held up.
Rowe exhaled through clenched teeth.
"It is heavy."
"If it were only me, I might not have held it."
But he was not alone.
What Brunestud faced was a miracle.
A miracle of mortals fighting the sky.
"Rome."
"Victory."
A roar tore through the air, and the falling night shattered.
Shields braced the firmament.
Spears ripped holes through the black curtain that had tried to smother the present world.
Javelins screamed upward, aimed at the blood moon, and beyond that, at the golden haired Brunestud.
The air hissed with countless projectiles.
"Damn you, ants!"
Brunestud flung out her hand.
Her fair arm emerged from beneath the gown, perfect and cold. Crimson light pulsed between her slender fingers and spread like a storm, blocking the incoming volley.
Fury.
Shock.
A flicker of disbelief.
And then a heavy punch answered her.
Rowe seized the opening and closed in, driving his fist upward.
"To hell with your ants."
Thud.
Brunestud's face twisted, and she was sent flying backward.
Blood scattered in the air.
The cold light of the Crimson Moon deepened, spreading more intensely.
Rowe stopped and straightened, and his massive Machina God clenched both fists.
Chaotic tentacles unfurled behind him like an executioner's mantle.
Behind him stood a colossal army.
Dragons and fairies pressed close, moving as one.
Rowe's grin widened.
"A waste defeated by a computer," he said, voice almost cheerful with cruelty. "Where do you find the courage?"
Brunestud stabilized herself, hair disheveled, beauty cracked by rage.
Her crimson eyes swept over Rowe and the army behind him.
"I underestimated you."
Her voice steadied, arrogance forced down into something colder.
"But do you truly think this is enough to contend with us?"
The torn night revealed the true night sky again.
Vast.
Brilliant with stars.
Rome's soldiers held formation in midair as if their boots were still on earth.
Their clash had been a victory.
Rowe knew it was only the beginning.
Brunestud's power was not limited to this.
The Authority granted to her by the Moon Cell would not be so fragile.
A supercomputer capable of recording information across the entire Solar System, even if it offered only a fraction, would still be overwhelming.
Brunestud looked up.
"Moon Cell."
"Grant me more Authority."
A cold mechanical voice descended from the Moon's surface, carrying no emotion, only procedure.
"Program code Brunestud requesting terminal main body support."
"Higher Authority request."
"Command analysis passed."
"Authority granted. From one thousandth increased to."
"One percent."
Everyone felt it.
A tenfold increase.
Brunestud's appearance did not change, but behind her, crimson spread and unfolded.
Six pairs of enormous wings opened, one after another, covering the sky and swallowing the stars.
It resembled the night she had forced into being earlier, but now the wings were larger, heavier, more absolute.
Ten times her previous power.
The increase was still within the same category, still quantity rather than a true leap.
But there was no doubt.
Brunestud had become far more dangerous.
Continue forward.
Everyone would die.
But if they feared death, they would never have drawn their swords in the first place, never stepped into the sky, never aimed their will at the heavens.
Boudica's expression was hard as iron.
Barghest felt only the exhilaration of challenging a stronger foe.
Melusine's dragon shadow circled above with no sign of retreat.
Einzbern turned a page, smiling faintly.
A goddess of war did not fear an enemy because she was powerful.
She feared only a war without meaning.
"Ants are ants," Brunestud said, and as the Moon Cell's Authority increased, something in her eyes changed.
Not the hostile chill from before.
A cruel cold.
Mechanical.
Natural.
Like the Moon itself.
Power came with a cost.
The loss of self, the creeping assimilation by the Moon Cell.
This was what Brunestud had feared, the reason she had avoided using such Authority.
But now, she did not care.
She only wanted to kill them.
Kill them all.
Brunestud lifted her hand, preparing to crush them like insects.
Then she froze.
The surging crimson retracted.
The wings trembled.
Because a voice rang out.
Because a figure appeared.
"Umu."
The sound was light, almost playful.
Then it became absolute.
"What a splendid battle."
"My Rome."
"My warriors."
"I have witnessed your beautiful miracles."
The voice crossed distance that should have been impossible.
"But have you forgotten me?"
Rowe paused.
Einzbern's eyes widened.
Countless soldiers shifted their focus, instinctively listening, seeking the source.
The Roman Emperor, Nero Claudius, was not here.
She was in Rome.
Yet her figure emerged from the palace, stepping beneath the Crimson Moon of that night as if the world itself was a stage built for her.
She gazed at the Moon hanging high and understood, with the clarity of an emperor, that her soldiers were still fighting far away.
The emperor was not on the front line.
That never meant she could not give aid.
"The moonlight is beautiful," Nero said.
"My uncle, Caligula, once went mad for it. He was overturned by it."
Her smile sharpened.
"However, I am not like Caligula."
When Rome's army marched out, Nero did nothing, and yet she did everything.
She stabilized Rome's vast territories.
She established her Authority.
She initiated political education for the common people.
She built a civilization sturdy enough to endure the weight of conquest.
In that process, she understood Caligula's madness.
She understood the conviction he had grasped when he accepted the Moon's gaze with his own power.
And she understood, more clearly than ever, why he failed.
That emperor had never truly understood the essence of civilization.
Assimilation.
The mad Moon had also been Rome.
"Your lament," Nero said, voice soft, "I have already heard."
"Rome does not reject you."
She accepted the mad Moon, as an emperor receives her subjects.
This was what Rowe had made Nero understand.
This was the thought Nero Claudius had gained through reflection in these days.
She spread her arms.
"My Adjutant."
"Witness my perfection."
Her red skirt flared, steps blooming like roses.
It was the emperor's noble dance.
A dance dedicated to the Adjutant.
Graceful turns, like a flower opening in an imperial courtyard.
And at the same time, it was as if she danced directly before Rowe's eyes.
Rowe, high on the battlefield, looked up.
Through the vast moonlight, he could see her clearly.
In an instant, her will covered the sky's Authority.
A power that surpassed the Crimson Moon.
A higher Authority that surpassed Brunestud.
The evolution of Kingship.
A higher Rose Emperor.
Brunestud snapped her gaze up, staring at the Crimson Moon above.
She questioned the shining Moon Cell.
She demanded to know why her Authority was being stolen.
The Moon Cell did not answer.
Only Nero's figure, across time and space, fell into Brunestud's eyes and delivered the most perfect answer.
The Scarlet Emperor named Nero Claudius appeared beneath the Moon.
Using the Moon Cell's power, she crossed time and distance and arrived here.
Small.
Graceful.
Blooming before Rowe.
She smiled and stepped close, body pressed to his as if the battlefield itself had become a ballroom.
Nero embraced Rowe.
Moonlight still hung high.
But the clear moonlight was now beneath the Emperor.
The Rose Emperor rose on her toes, held Rowe close, and kissed him softly.
Her voice was a whisper made into law.
"The Adjutant and I."
"Both are Emperor."
.....
[Check Out My Patreon For Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]