I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The table in Rome is never set up indoors; just now, after the starry sky receded, grass grew first at the feet.

After the grass grows, the sheepfold is built; after the sheepfold is built, the wooden fence is built.

Seven low hills form a circle, with water accumulating in the depressions between them, and a layer of reed debris floating on the surface.

The city hasn't even been built yet; that's why their chief chose this projection method back then:

The most significant moment for this place was precisely before the city of Rome was even founded.

Seven chairs, corresponding to the city of seven hills.

"On the 23rd of last month, the Italian peninsula declared war on Austria-Hungary."

The owl above Minerva turned its neck.

"I've read the documents issued by the military. They say it's to ensure that the existing power structure on the curtain side tilts in our favor."

"The document was sent to Mars."

Mars did not deny it: "I accepted it."

"You accepted it without asking our opinion first."

"What good would it do to ask? You definitely wouldn't agree."

Minerva sighed.

"Mars, I'm not arguing with you about whether this fight should have been fought or not."

The document has already been issued; there's no point in arguing.

"You want to use this promotion, right?"

Mars remained noncommittal.

"Romulus is the son of Mars."

He flipped his palm over on the table.

"The name I wear means I am no less than you at this table."

Minerva didn't refute it; the biggest difference between the Roman table and the Greek table lay precisely in this.

In the Roman pantheon, the god of war was never considered inferior to the goddess of wisdom.

The Romans' ancestor was the son of Mars.

From the day this table was filled, the chair at the head of the table has been occupied by one person sitting and the other staring.

The owl above Minerva's head stared at the man.

"So you won and were promoted to Grand Master."

"After the promotion, who gets this table?"

Mars did not answer.

Venus then stepped in as a peacemaker.

"Gentlemen, now is not the time for infighting."

"They've hired an expert; we should discuss what to do next."

The table fell silent again.

"It's just a possibility," Fortuna corrected her. "I only read three words."

"Three words are enough," Venus said, frustrated.

"I always try to do things in a cost-effective way."

"If we win this team fight, the benefits will go to the Chief and Mars."

"If we lose, even if we aren't wiped out, we'll suffer heavy losses."

Vesta (the goddess of the hearth) nodded in agreement, marking her first statement of the evening.

Minerva sat at the head of the table without saying a word.

Of course, she could also hire an expert.

She also knows two experts, one in the north of the Alps and the other in Sicily.

But the cost of bringing someone over was so high that she was willing to give up this team battle.

She can invite him, but the question is... why would she want to invite him?

This isn't a match she wanted to play.

The document was sent to Mars, urging the military to expedite his advancement through this opportunity.

She risked her life and fortune, and in return, Mars achieved a promotion to Grandmaster.

After being promoted, will I still be able to hold onto my position?

"Minerva, are you going to invite her or not?" Mars asked her, having noticed her presence.

Minerva looked up, but nothing could be read in his deep-set eyes.

"I won't invite them; the cost is too high."

"What should we do if there's an expert on the other side helping us?"

We don't know yet whether we were able to invite them or not.

"Fortuna said..."

"Fortuna says she doesn't know either," Minerva interrupted him impatiently.

"Mars, I'll give you two choices."

"Either we play this match as scheduled, or you figure it out yourself."

Minerva then revealed his true intentions.

"Or we can postpone it."

"Until when?"

"We'll push them until we figure out their true hand."

Mars sat there, silent for a long time.

"We can't postpone it. The date is already written in the documents. We can't go against the military."

To put it nicely, he was actually caught up in the situation and wanted to drag everyone down with him.

Minerva didn't expose him, but just gave a cold snort.

"Then let's fight."

"Aren't you going to help?"

"Of course I'll go up. I'm the head of the table, and if I don't go up, this table will fall apart."

"But I won't hire any foreign players."

Mars was not surprised.

"Minerva, if you won't invite me, I will."

"What will you offer as a treat?"

Minerva looked at him, somewhat surprised: "I know what you have."

"Your intelligence is outdated."

"I submitted an application to the Engineering Corps three days ago, and it was approved last night."

Venus sat on the hill diagonally opposite, watching the two argue with a cold eye.

Upon hearing this, she immediately became interested.

"What was approved?"

"I can read the criticism."

The small patch of water in the depression suddenly became completely still.

Venus tucked the silver mirror into her sleeve.

The female stove goddess remained seated without moving, while the fire in the earthenware basin beside her feet flickered.

The goddess of the hunt didn't say a word from beginning to end, only placing the bow in her hand across her lap.

On the seventh hill sat the one who had not spoken of his name, his hands clasped under his chin, three rings on his fingers.

"Read it," Minerva waved her hand.

Mars closed his eyes.

"Encircling the beginning of ten thousand cities, sharing the same foundation as the walls."

As the first sentence fell, the grass on all seven hills flattened into a circle, with the center of the circle facing the depression.

Along the Apennine Peninsula, from north to south, in dozens of cities, all the cats have moved away from the walls.

In Genoa, there is a section of the outer wall of a 16th-century fortress where the night watchman saw white ash oozing from the cracks in the stone.

"He who once drew the line between life and death with a single plow."

The water in the depression receded completely, and the Wheel of Fortune above Fortuna's head came to a stop.

"Blood has formed trenches, bones have formed walls, only the boundary lines remain forever in this world."

After the third sentence was recited, the earth turned to both sides, forming deep ravines that went around the seven hills and headed south.

"……oh?"

That voice didn't sound like that of an expert at all.

It's all very ordinary, just the tone of an elderly craftsman speaking on a construction site, his voice still a little hoarse from years of being choked by lime.

"The last time someone called my name over a seat was 160 years ago."

The voice continued, "That kid back then was about your age."

"Did he win?" Mars asked.

"We didn't win."

Minerva sat up straight; she certainly knew who this expert was.

The Renaissance was in full swing during the time the other person was born.

Humanists unearthed from the monastery's storeroom the accounts of Livy, Varro, and Plutarch regarding Romulus's primordial ditch.

This ruler repeatedly performed this city-building ritual hundreds or thousands of times over a hundred years.

It is certainly not Romulus, the legendary ancestor of Rome.

He was the only person in those hundred years to take on all the thousands of foundation-laying ceremonies for the city.

"Senior." Mars took a step forward and bowed respectfully.

"This situation might be different from that one, you..."

"Don't rush. Since you called me over, there must be more than just a Grandmaster on the other side." The voice interrupted him.

"Who did they invite?"

Fortuna answered for him.

"The Road of No Return, the Deep Realm, return with the army."

The fresh soil that was flowing down the ditch had all solidified.

Not a single person dared to utter a sound on the seven hills.

"……oh!"

This "oh" was different from the one before.

"Do you know who he is?" Mars asked.

"I don't know him."

"That……"

"I've never seen that guy, but I've heard about what he does."

"I've spent my whole life drawing lines and defining boundaries, but that guy himself is the road."

"Ravines can stop people from walking, but they can't stop the road itself."

The seven hills were so quiet that you could hear the wind rustling the hay in the sheepfold.

"So what you mean, senior, is..." Minerva spoke for the first time.

"That guy's secrets are very mysterious, and I may not be able to completely block them."

Mars stood by the ditch, his breathing growing heavier beneath the iron mask: "That's enough."

"That's enough." The voice from the ditch was very calm.

"Then I'll name my price."

On the seventh hill, the newcomer raised his head and finally spoke of the part he knew well.

"Please speak, senior," Mars said.

The voice said, "First, give me everything in your house."

Mars froze.

"...Which part?"

"all."

Someone on the seven hills sighed.

"Your grandfather's, your father's, your own... not a single thing left after three generations of savings."

"I don't care about good or bad, I just want everything."

"Why?" Venus couldn't help but ask.

The voice from the ditch chuckled.

"My child, I've spent my whole life drawing boundaries for others."

"To draw a boundary, you have to hand over everything on the other side first."

"If you pay half, that ditch is just a pit."

Mars stood at the bottom of the slope and spoke with difficulty.

"……Can."

"Note that I want everything you hunt in the future, and I want it all too."

"for how long?"

"Until you feel you've truly given your all."

Mars clenched his fist at his side.

"Can."

The voice was satisfied and said with a smile, "You'll thank me for today once you advance to the Great Master level."

The people on the seventh hill stirred at that moment.

"Gentlemen, the supplies needed for this operation were shipped from Trieste the night before last."

"Spellcasting mediums, alchemical potions, protective amulets... a total of nineteen boxes."

He bowed slightly to those present in a very polite manner.

"I won't rush you to pay; we'll talk about it after the debt is settled."

"How much?" Minerva asked.

"Twenty percent."

"Where should I draw the ticket?"

"It will be drawn from the portion that you all receive after winning the battle."

"What if you lose?"

"If you lose, you don't have to pay back," he said understandingly.

"The dead don't owe debts; that's an old rule in our line of work."

The voice from the ditch suddenly spoke again at that moment.

"Alright, I don't care about the money."

"Now, let's talk about the portion I gave you."

Everyone on the seven hills raised their heads.

The ravine climbs to the top of the hill, then circles around seven chairs and comes together.

The moment they closed, the entire etheric field in the projection flipped over.

Venus was the first to react.

She raised her hand, and a small ball of light condensed in her palm.

When that ball of light appeared, she herself flinched.

"...This is what I am doing."

"Rome is right there in the ditch," the expert said.

"All your strength will be amplified within the ditch."

"Those who come from outside the valley are all considered outsiders and are greatly weakened."

The female stove goddess glanced at the earthenware pot at her feet; the small flame there was now higher than before.

"Senior." Venus lowered her hand.

"Do foreign players count as domestic players?"

"Not really."

The voice from the ravine answered:

"The city-building ritual recognizes the people in the city, and the name of the god is the proof."

"The people you've invited aren't from Rome. Here, they'll be considered outsiders just like those people over there."

Mars turned around and faced the seven hills.

"Gentlemen, if we spend a lot of money to bring in foreign aid only to be weakened, then death is real death."

He clenched his fist.

"I suggest that we don't invite anyone."

Venus's eyes lit up; the person she had originally intended to invite was a great expert.

As for the cost, the thought of it always made her wince and kept her up all night.

"I agree," she immediately agreed.

The goddess of the hearth nodded.

The goddess of the hunt also expressed her agreement with the suggestion.

"The worst-case scenario," Mars said slowly.

"Even if we can't hold out, with this person here, we won't be completely wiped out."

"The other side is different. They and their foreign players died here, and they really died here."

The expert remained silent, waiting patiently.

"Let me explain the accounts to you all," Mars said, revealing his intentions.

"You would all have to pay the price of hiring someone, but I'm saving you that expense now."

"What I gave out, you all heard just now."

"I don't ask you all to share the cost for me, I just want you to give me the portion that you were originally planning to hire someone for."

The wind on the seven hills suddenly stopped.

Venus frowned: "Mars, that's a nice way to put it."

"But how did you know how much of the portion I was originally planning to hire people for?"

"I don't know," Mars said, regaining his composure. "You can answer for yourselves."

"What if you underreported?"

"I won't chase after the small amount reported; we'll all be sitting at this table together from now on."

Minerva sat atop the highest hill, silently watching Mars win people's hearts.

The other party's approach was so brilliant that she couldn't find any fault with it at the moment.

Three people on the seven hills were already nodding.

From tonight onwards, the person at this table owes a debt to is him.

It's not just because he invited an expert.

He took the gamble that could have killed him alone, and then shared the blessing of not dying with everyone else.

Minerva and Fortuna exchanged a glance.

Now, his seat is starting to look rather precarious.

"Minerva." Mars turned around.

"What about yours?"

Minerva ignored him.

"I never planned to invite anyone, so I didn't save anything."

Mars stood there and did not give chase.

The one in the ditch spoke up again.

"Have you finished discussing it?"

"We've finished discussing it."

"Then I'll be going now," the voice said.

"My share isn't so easy to get, let me remind you again."

"The name tag is convenient to wear, but it hurts when you take it off."

The newly turned soil along the ditch collapsed back down, but the marks on the black mud remained.