Greece brings evildoers.

Chapter 671 My lord, you've eaten shit!

Chapter 671 My lord, you've eaten shit!
On the banks of the Pinarus River, the autumn wind was bleak.

A group of Persian soldiers, their faces filled with fear, were driven into the cold, swift-flowing river by the Undead Army, clad in black armor.

Driven by the instinct for survival, the soldiers attempted to escape, struggle, and resist.

The robust Persian veteran, looking at the faces contorted with fear, coldly gave the order:

"By the true God Ahura, your cowardice has brought shame upon the Empire. Only death can wash away this disgrace!"

As the aged arm swung down, the black-clad undead soldiers who had been standing like statues on the riverbank drew their crescent-shaped swords from their waists.

"Puff puff!"

As the icy arc of light slashed down, a mournful wail echoed through the rapidly tearing airflow.

Where the chill passed, blood splattered, and dozens of fleeing soldiers who tried to resist and escape were cleaved in two by the sharp force, becoming mangled corpses that fell into the cold and swift river.

Looking at the crimson surface of the river, the old Persian general nodded in satisfaction, then turned to look at the soldiers of various tribes behind him and gave a sinister reminder:
"Listen up, if anyone dares to desert without receiving orders to retreat, that's what will happen to those cowards!"

Although the Persian Empire had a vast territory and a large population, it was actually a confederation-like state with weak control over its various regions.

The auxiliary troops conscripted from various places often had bad habits such as weak combat effectiveness and lax discipline.

When faced with a high-intensity battle, they often hesitate to advance or desert their posts.

The reason why the first three rounds of attacks failed was largely due to the fact that these cowardly and self-destructive auxiliary troops led the entire army astray.

Therefore, in order to ensure that military orders are effectively carried out, it is necessary to take some necessary deterrent measures.

For example, killing a group of defeated soldiers as a warning to others.

The soldiers from various ethnic groups who were watching the execution felt a chill run down their spines as they smelled the strong stench of blood in the air, and a sense of awe was clearly evident in them.

At this moment, Darius III, tall and fair-skinned, stepped forward and soothed him in a gentle voice:
"Alright, the executions end here. For the glory of the empire, take up your weapons and make sure to take this pass before nightfall."

The soldiers hurriedly nodded, and summoned by the old Persian general, they mustered their courage and launched another attack on the Roman legions on the hilltop.

Hundreds of armored Persian elephant cavalrymen marched out with heavy steps and charged up the gentle slope.

The Roman legion's defensive formations on the perimeter shattered after several impacts.

Immediately afterwards, these Persian war elephants, resembling heavy tanks, continued to advance, followed closely by a mixed force of auxiliary troops from various ethnic groups and Persian sorcerers, while the Immortals served as scouts and supervisors, constantly encroaching upon and compressing the Roman legions' operational space.

"Imperial Guards, form ranks!"

Seeing that his own formation was beginning to break down, Caesar immediately let out a hysterical roar.

"Bang! Boom!"

Amidst a series of beatings resembling the booming of war drums, over 1000 Roman soldiers, clad in sapphire-gold armor and of even greater stature, stood in front, spear in one hand and shield in the other, braving arrows, spells, and falling rocks.

The overlapping patterns of light from the shields coalesced into an indestructible iron wall.

These Roman soldiers, filling the gaps, leaned on each other, their arm muscles bulging, their bodies shimmering with divine markings. With all their might, they used one hand to brace against the shield, forcefully repelling the Persian offensive.

"Roar!"

The Persian soldiers at the forefront were either hurled into the air by spears or smashed into mincemeat by shields.

A royal guard composed of divine offspring.

This was one of the few cards Caesar could play.

Draw your spear, thrust...

The fully armed Roman Praetorian Guard, like emotionless killing machines, mechanically and precisely repeated this monotonous yet effective action.

The continuous, cold bronze light, like layers of piled-up ocean waves, gave the seemingly flimsy defensive line a chilling aura of death.

The Persian soldiers who crashed into it were mercilessly cleaved through their shields and armor, their flesh torn apart.

Blessed by divine blood, this Imperial Guard, relying on the terrain for its defense, displayed terrifying combat power, turning wave after wave of attacking enemies into mincemeat like a spinning millstone.

Gradually, the bodies of the fallen soldiers piled up almost like small mountains on the front lines, and the flowing blood congealed into scarlet mud on the ground.

Devil! Devil!
Faced with the Roman phalanx that had claimed thousands of lives, the various ethnic vassal armies driven up turned pale and showed signs of collapse once again.

Caesar showed no mercy and immediately ordered his Roman legions to advance with the Praetorian Guard as the spearhead, preparing to break through the enemy's formation in one fell swoop.

However, just as the soldiers on both flanks stepped out of their cover, a sharp whooshing sound came from the sky.

Like a rain of arrows tearing through the dark clouds, they whistled as they fell upon the stalemate on the front lines.

Puff puff puff!

With a dull thud of tearing cloth, one by one Persian vassal soldiers or Roman soldiers were pinned to the ground by arrows, their scarlet blood splattering and flowing freely.

"Defensive formation!"

The centurions, the backbone of the Roman legions, shouted commands from the front lines. The soldiers, in units of a hundred, moved closer together, raised their shields, and covered each other to block the waves of arrows.

Even so, the force of these arrows pierced through metal and stone.

Even full-metal armor and shields were as fragile as paper in the face of these arrows.

Therefore, in no time at all, dozens of shields engraved with defensive divine patterns shattered, and the densely packed Roman soldiers were shot down like wheat under a sickle.

This indiscriminate, all-encompassing attack caused severe losses to the Roman legions since the start of the war.

They actually used these auxiliary troops as bait to deplete Rome's elite forces; the other side also has skilled fighters!
Caesar's pupils contracted as he looked into the distance and spotted a uniquely styled legion of archers at the forefront of the Persian army.

Each of them stood tall and straight like a pine tree, with longbows on their shoulders and specially made arrows engraved with Persian script in their quivers. With each breath, they seemed to inhale and exhale golden particles from the air.

This symbolizes that they are descendants of gods, possessing divine blood.

An entire legion of archers composed of divine offspring?
Caesar was horrified, and his gaze immediately fell on the core area of the group of Persian archers.

A burly man with a rugged appearance stood in the center, seemingly the commander of this army of archers.

He had bronze skin and deep-set eyes, the corners of which were etched with the marks of time, and his graying sideburns were adorned with leather cords typical of nomadic tribes. He wore simple hunting attire made of coarse hemp and leather, and a wolf-tooth amulet hanging from his waist jingled softly with each step.

His calloused hands drew back the war bow, his arm muscles bulging like mountains, and divine light patterns formed on his body.

Immediately, cheers of encouragement in Persian erupted from the surrounding area: "Arash!"

Arash!

Upon hearing this name, Caesar's expression changed drastically.

Arash, the great hero! The Meteor Legion!
As the various divine eras gradually came into contact and merged, Caesar, who loved reading, collected a great deal of information and books that had spread from beyond the realms.

If I remember correctly, there was a great archer named Arash in the Persian Age of Gods.

Legend has it that he once shot an arrow 2500 kilometers away, with the power of a meteor, thus quelling a conflict between two armies and bringing peace to Persia.

Afterwards, the Persians, grateful for his merits and amazed by his strength, learned his shooting techniques and established a legion of divine archers, known as the "Meteor Legion".

At the same time, this legendary Persian hero was reciting a sacred prayer in a solemn voice:
"—My wise and sagacious lord."

Mithras, the radiant Lord who bestows all wisdom, dignity, and strength.

Behold my heart, my thoughts, and the things I will accomplish.

"God of Creation, God of the Stars and Moon, descend with your divine might!"

The golden flames surged violently due to the burning of divine blood, converging towards the arrow poised to be released on the bowstring.

As the bowstring trembled, the whistling arrow, seemingly enveloped in hundreds of golden flame runes, hurtled towards the Roman front lines like a falling star.

boom!
After piercing the outer magical barrier, the golden arrow continued its momentum as it struck the city wall.

A terrifying magical storm raged, shattering and scattering bricks inscribed with defensive runes.

Puff puff puff!

In an instant, rocks flew through the air. Except for a few quick-reacting progenitors, most of the soldiers who remained in place didn't even have time to scream before their bodies were torn to pieces and shattered into mincemeat.

Immediately, the spilled blood and scattered limbs, before they could even hit the ground, were burned and evaporated under the intense light of the stick.

Thanks to their vigilance, the Roman soldiers, who had miraculously survived, pulled the disheveled Caesar from the deep pit.

The group shook off the rubble and dust, peeked out from behind the broken brick wall, and looked out at the scene.

The area that had been guarded had been transformed into a cone-shaped pit tens of meters deep, with wisps of smoke rising from the surrounding rocks and traces of high-temperature crystallization even appearing on the edges.

Those who died in battle and were left behind have not even been found.

hiss……

Caesar gasped as he looked at the charred patches on the ground.

The appearance of Divine Blood Heroes on the battlefield is like a game-changer for ordinary people.

Fortunately, Arash's arrow came at the cost of burning divine blood, consuming a huge amount of his own energy.

After firing that arrow, he was immediately carried away by the Persians.

Otherwise, if two or three more attacks like this were to occur, he and his Roman legion could be buried in advance.

Waaaaah!
But before Caesar could even rejoice for a few seconds, the low, menacing bugle call of attack resounded throughout the Persian camp.

At the same time, the Persian sorcerers began chanting rapidly:

"Its source is fire, its power is light. Invoking the name of my Lord Mithras, descend here as the spirit of light, wielding the sword of righteous judgment!"

One after another, magic arrays coalesced from the ground, forming into countless bright yellow flame sprites, clad in armor and wielding weapons, which swooped towards the Roman legion's position.

Ifrit, originating from Persian mythology, is a kind of spirit or demon in Central Asian legends.

Born from fire, it possesses the ability to manipulate flames, capable of burning and destroying life, as well as bringing warmth and light, embodying both evil and divine characteristics.

The genie residing in the lamp in later generations was a variant of Ifrit, possessing more effective controllability.

These Ifrits summoned to the battlefield came from the magical lamps created by alchemists of the Persian Empire, each bearing a magical mark.

Boom boom boom!

These burning monsters, waving their limbs that sometimes came together and sometimes scattered in the flames, hurled blazing fireballs at the Roman legions advancing in shield formations on the open ground. Once they hit their targets, the fireballs exploded instantly.

Under the scorching heat, the air was visibly distorted, and nearly half of the trees and grass on the ground withered and burned rapidly.

Even just the ripples caused by the heat were unbearable.

Therefore, neither the magical runes on the shields, which had limited magic resistance, nor the flesh and blood of the Roman soldiers could withstand the scorching heat.

In an instant, the Roman legions charging into the heart of the Persian army's territory were halted. One after another, the tightly guarded hundred-man squads were torn apart as if hit by artillery fire, and then fell one by one on their way to the front line when they were hit by a rain of arrows from all directions by the Meteor Legion.

Seeing the fire spirits hovering in mid-air slaughtering his soldiers on the battlefield, Caesar clenched his fists, his eyes filled with anxiety.

Finally, majestic silhouettes emerged from the sea.

Thousands of golden-red streaks of light ripped through the sky and fell into the Persian army's camp.

Boom boom boom!

Violent explosions echoed one after another, the earth trembled violently, dust billowed dozens of meters high, splattered blood stained the dust red, pink pieces of flesh and colorful organs flew everywhere, and severed limbs were scattered all over the ground.

"They've finally arrived! Let these Persians taste what it's like to get beaten up!"

Caesar excitedly pumped his fist, looking with a sigh of relief at the rows of black metal warships on the sea.

~~
At the same time, a tall, thin man in an academic robe walked onto the deck, and through calculations, located the positions of the Persian sorcerers. He then solemnly spoke:
"10 o'clock! 1200 meters away! Naval guns, three salvos!"

Soldiers on both sides knelt down, responsible for adjusting the gears and readings on the cannon barrel, while mages, standing in neat rows, were divided into three groups and injected magic into it in turn.

Tsk tsk tsk!

As the intricate magic circles lit up one by one, the divine runes on the bronze cannon glowed, and the concentration of magic power in the vicinity instantly increased several levels. Crimson beams of magic power swept across the sky, like the scythe of death, tearing through the flank of the Persian army and landing near a figure in the camp wearing a white robe and hood, with flame patterns embroidered on his clothes.

Caught off guard, dozens of Persian sorcerers were killed or wounded in an instant, and many fire spirits, having lost control, roared and twisted and dissipated on their own.

"Don't stop! Keep bombarding the magic markers as I told you!"

The tall, thin man looked at the Persian army, which had once again fallen into chaos, nodded in satisfaction, patted the cannon barrel lightly, and with his back to the group of magicians, soldiers, and gunners, gave a deep reminder.

As the air hummed and vibrated once more, the familiar magic circle took shape and focused, and a hint of nostalgia and emotion appeared in the tall, thin man's eyes.

Ladies and gentlemen, times have changed!
Experience the technology of Atlantis!
(End of this chapter)