Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Click!

Like the sound of glass shattering, the space in front of Scheherazade shattered like broken glass, and dozens of swaying figures fell out, the leaders being the three Roman emperors trapped in the inherent barrier.

In the midst of this shocking turn of events, the Assassins, including the old men of the mountains and the sorcerer Scheherazade, had no time to spare and had to deal with their old adversary who was now close at hand and coming on strong.

Even after getting rid of another problem, the series of Egyptian magic tricks and the giant golden cobra biting down made Samael feel irritable.

It’s endless!

"Leg, runes, in the name of Odin, grant me power!"

"By the goddess Andraste above, I swear an oath for myself, in the name of this sword, I call forth victory!"

At that moment, Brunhilde, riding her winged horse through the air, and Boudica, driving her chariot down the avenue, each stood in front of the two female pharaohs, Nitocris and Cleopatra, buying time for Samael.

The centurion and the First Princess of Britain led their Celtic soldiers and druids, along with the regrouped Roman soldiers, to intercept the Meteor Legion and the Assassins' harassment.

I completely forgot, I have teammates too!

Seeing the disturbance cleared, Samael slapped his forehead, let out a relieved sigh, and his gaze sharpened.

Chapter Forty-Eight: The Everlasting Empire of Madness!

?…?…?…

At this moment, the ancient serpent withdrew its hand and gazed longingly at Cyrus the Great, who was swaying as he rose from the billowing dust. It then solemnly chanted three related Lu script runes representing "flowing water," "snowstorm," and "freezing ice," which were then superimposed on each other.

Instantly, a strong sense of unease enveloped his heart, and the Persian king felt a chill run down his spine. As he looked down, he was shocked to see a hundred-meter-long ice-blue magic circle at his feet.

hum!

At the same time, the etheric resonance spread out, and dense dark clouds gathered from all directions. Amidst lightning and thunder, the surrounding temperature plummeted, and blizzards and whirlwinds merged into one, with icicles mixed in. As the wind pillars swept and slashed in all directions, frost covered the ground, and ice spikes emerged one after another. Ice spears condensed in the sky fell like meteors, striking at the desperate figures who were trying to dodge.

The world Cyrus could see seemed to have become a frozen, icy inferno.

Witness the grand magic created by the combined power of myself, Fenrir the giant wolf, and Skadi the winter goddess!

Its name is Fimbulb Winter!

The ancient serpent grinned as it watched Cyrus, whose movements were slowing and whose injuries were becoming increasingly severe in the snowstorm.

The Winter of Fimbulb is an important event in the early history of the Norse gods, representing a harbinger of Ragnarok.

During this period, the world will experience three consecutive winters: the Winter of the Wind, the Winter of the Sword, and the Winter of the Wolves. During this time, ice and snow will blow in from all directions, plunging the nine worlds into darkness, causing order to collapse, countless wars to break out, brothers to kill each other, and countless lives to be lost.

However, with Samael's intervention, this ominous disaster naturally did not occur.

However, due to some kind of wicked sense of humor, the Ancient Serpent secretly created this kind of large-scale magic that simulates an apocalyptic catastrophe within a certain area, along with Skadi and Fenrir, and named it after it.

At the same time, Samael slowly raised his cross spear, gathering magical power in preparation for the thunderous blow that would annihilate Cyrus the Great.

Cyrus the Great, trapped in a blizzard, saw the cross-shaped flames rising fiercely ahead and was immediately terrified. He recklessly invoked the name of Mithras, the Lord of Light, and forcibly unleashed his divine power.

In an instant, the sun's rays burst forth, tearing a gap in the blizzard. He immediately broke free of his restraints, slipped out in a disheveled state, and roared fiercely.

"Hassan Sabah, what are you waiting for! Make your move!"

A roar, imbued with divine might, rolled in like thunder across the sky, echoing throughout half of Rome.

Hassan al-Sabah, the first Elder of the Mountain in the Assassins! It was him!

No wonder...

At that moment, Samael suddenly realized something, looked up at the half-collapsed Pantheon, his gaze locked on the shadowy figure wearing a black cloak and a skull-shaped bone mask, a complex expression appearing in his eyes.

All the Assassins, including the Hassans who had served as leaders, turned their gazes toward Mount Palatine, searching for their leader.

"I am an assassin, not an executioner. The tolling of the evening bell will only be played once..."

At that moment, a deep, melodious sound, like the wind in a secluded valley, drifted over.

The old man of the mountain leaned on his short sword, bowed slightly towards the foot of the mountain, and then his body dissipated like smoke and mist until it faded into nothingness with the lingering echo of his words.

Seeing that the assassin he had relied on as a powerful ally had actually left the scene, Cyrus the Great was dumbfounded, and his own camp was thrown into a state of astonishment and uproar.

Samael was the first to gather his thoughts, his eyes narrowed immediately, and his body, like a great bow, drew back in an exaggerated arc. The cross-shaped spear, blazing with light, was hurled at Cyrus with overwhelming force.

"The Book of Destiny, Divine Revelation!"

At the critical moment, sensing the threat of death, the Persian king gritted his teeth, intertwined his fingers, bulged the veins on his forehead, and roared angrily.

In an instant, a large book with an ancient design and images of two gods of good and evil engraved on its front and back flew out from the golden magic circle activated on Cyrus's chest. The pages turned with a rustling sound, and golden characters peeled off and flew out, gathering into a burst of dancing and burning golden flames.

hum!

In an instant, it was as if the first rays of light of the newborn world had descended, the extreme incandescence washing away all the five senses that the human body could perceive, leaving a brief blank in consciousness.

As the people of Rome came to their senses, the pale world gradually regained its color and sound.

But Cyrus the Great in the square and the Persian heroes and soldiers in the streets had long since disappeared.

Samael's hurled cross-shaped spear pinned a page, as white as gold leaf, to the ground; the lingering echo of its trembling tip had not yet faded.

Cyrus! You bastard!

At this moment, Ramses II saw that his ally had abandoned him and fled first. Under the malicious gazes of everyone, he felt like he was being pricked by thorns. Without hesitation, he shook Attila away from him, waved his scepter, and unleashed his divine power.

Instantly, wisps of sand rose from the ground, spiraling up and enveloping Nitocris, Cleopatra, and other Egyptian elites, teleporting them onto the resummoned solar ship.

Pharaoh summoned two sand sphinxes to cover his retreat, then decisively and frantically channeled magic into the solar ship, which sped up and disappeared into the clouds in a surging stream of ethereal light.

Samael's eyes, like the stars in the sky, opened and closed as he gazed at the receding solar ship and the ravaged city of Rome. His eyes flickered, and he turned to focus his gaze on the Hun king who was hovering in the air, holding a seven-colored greatsword.

"I kept my promise to you..."

"Um……"

"Next time we meet, we'll be enemies!"

I will try my best to make you my friend...

The ancient serpent smiled and responded earnestly, but Attila remained unmoved. The light of the sword of the god of war in his hand faded, and he immediately spread his wings and flew towards the outskirts of Rome.

When the city of Rome, ravaged by fire, finally fell silent, Samael breathed a sigh of relief and turned to walk towards the front of the square.

Clang…

The cross-shaped spear, its flames fading, was pulled out with one hand, and Samael picked up the remaining gold-leaf-like page of the book, examining it with a frown.

Another power of fate?!

It felt strangely familiar; in short, it was very unpleasant!

For a moment, Samael's thoughts were in turmoil. He was overwhelmed by the various intertwined clues and the current chaotic situation. Then, the ancient serpent glanced at the half-collapsed Pantheon, its gaze deep and unfathomable.

Tsk, I wonder if that old friend's retreat was intentional or unintentional.

But how could the old man of the mountain obey Cyrus's orders? And even help this great emperor assassinate Romulus, the patriarch of the Roman gods?

Wait, Romulus!

Just then, Samael suddenly realized what was happening and immediately grabbed Nero, who had been placed aside. Surrounded by Boudica and Brunhilde, they quickly ascended the high altar.

In an instant, the Roman emperors, one dead and three wounded, led the reinforcements of the six major clans and arrived late. With sorrowful expressions, they gathered before the Pantheon, casting their last hope and expectation upon the god who had descended to earth.

However, upon contact, Samael's heart sank to the bottom, and he lowered his arms, shaking his head helplessly.

With his divine core shattered and his body collapsing, Romulus was clinging to life by sheer willpower and was beyond saving.

Moreover, Samael was unfamiliar with Rome's technology of creating artificial gods and was truly helpless.

The last glimmer of hope was cruelly extinguished, and Rome was filled with cries of despair, an atmosphere of despondency and confusion permeating the land.

boom!

Amidst the dull thud of the gun barrel, Romulus emitted a deep, resonant voice.

"Romans, lift your heads high and stand tall! Even if I die, Rome will live on forever!"

The people of Rome wiped away their tears, but could not erase the sorrow from their faces.

At that moment, Romulus turned to look at Nero, who was being led there by Samael, his gaze softening.

"Nero, how lovely, how beautiful, how radiant child! Come, come here! All Rome, past, present, and future, loves you."

Behold, my spear, Rome, is right here.

From this moment forward, it's in your hands! Support the future of Rome with those slender wrists.

We are the flowers of Rome, the emperors of the world's roses!

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Battlefield Between Heaven and Hell

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Romulus, holding the spear that symbolized the continuation of Rome, bypassed Nero and handed it to Samael for safekeeping.

The meaning is self-evident.

Click...

In an instant, the God Ancestor, having completed his mission, lost his last divine power to sustain him. After casting a meaningful glance at Samael, he could no longer hold on. His body shattered and disintegrated like a crystal, and the golden light that gushed out from the cracks flowed into the great altar.

hum!

In an instant, the Latin inscriptions embedded on the high altar were activated and flickered under the infusion of Romulus's divine power. Twelve intertwined golden-red pillars of light hummed and trembled, forming a towering flame like the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

A limp, muscular phantom glanced down at Nero in the center of the altar, then brandished a hammer and began hammering away at a piece of golden-red divine iron on a forging platform that rose slowly amidst the flames.

Once the sword blank was complete, the blacksmith proudly raised his creation.

In an instant, lightning flashed and thunder roared in the sky, and bolts of lightning struck the sword. Ripples spread across the ocean, and the surging seawater cooled the fiery red embryo.

At the same time, the radiance of the sun and moon shone brightly, the vegetation around the great altar grew vigorously, and grapevines that spread out from the cracks in the rocks bore fruit that exuded the aroma of wine. The bright red light of blood and the pink petals that fluttered in the air were directly poured into the greatsword.

The blessings of the twelve main gods, activated in turn, manifested one after another, forging together the bizarrely shaped, curved, and asymmetrically beautiful crimson greatsword.

Finally, as the golden-red divine light dissipated, the crimson greatsword, gently held and entwined by rose petals, fell into Nero's hands. Vast magical power surged into the young body of the Rose Emperor, and various "talents" appeared one after another in the little girl's mind.

The curved blade is inscribed with the Latin phrase "regnum caelorum et gehenna," which in Latin means "heaven" and "hell."

The place where people live is the central hub that connects life and death, the bridge that carries on the past and opens up the future, and the battlefield between heaven and hell!

Meteorite Saddle - Primordial Fire (Aestus estus)...

Having witnessed the birth of this divine weapon, Samael silently recited in his heart, feeling a mix of emotion and helplessness.

Unfortunately, these are all legacy mechanisms left over from the high altar, and he still cannot use these remnants to make contact with the ancient Greek gods.

However, the Romans, who had been pessimistic and lost after the fall of their ancestor, were given a shot of adrenaline after witnessing this miracle of inheritance. They knelt down and worshipped, letting out a thunderous cheer and shouting the name of the Rose Emperor.

The city of Rome, still shrouded in thick smoke, appeared desolate yet resilient against the setting sun, as if reborn from the ashes in the afterglow of the sunset.

After temporarily stabilizing morale, the next step is naturally to clean up the mess and restore order as soon as possible.

Ugh, bad luck, I'm busy again...

Samael, standing before the high altar, glanced back at the half-collapsed Pantheon behind him, then turned to look sadly at the ruined city of Rome. He suddenly felt a headache coming on, and couldn't help but raise his hand to rub his temples, sighing in despair.

As night fell, the bodies of the deceased, their eyes covered with coins, dressed in clean clothes, and their faces tidied, were carried from the ruins to places like the Roman Forum where firewood was piled up, to bid farewell to the victims.

Amidst the prayers of the priests and the cries of loved ones, the soldiers responsible for maintaining order lit pyres, and raging flames rose from all parts of Rome.

Although gods do not specifically target ordinary people, war is not a game for children; once it begins, there will inevitably be deaths and injuries.

Even though the high-end combat forces gathered from all sides maintained appropriate restraint, thousands of people still perished in the city of Rome.

One or two percent of the civilians were affected, but the majority were Roman soldiers who risked everything to go to the Pantheon to provide support, as well as young reserve soldiers who spontaneously organized resistance.

However, what can offer some solace to the families of the victims is that the ashes of those who died for their country will be placed in the Roman cemetery, and their names will be engraved on the newly built walls of the Pantheon, so that they may be protected by the gods and remembered by their descendants.

Rome has a tradition of heroic monarchs who are deified after death, and commoners and ordinary soldiers rarely have a place in the legends of emperors and generals.

This honor is now admired, even envied, by many living people, and is enough to soothe the turbulent public opinion and morale of the Romans.

Moreover, in order to restore order and daily life as quickly as possible, the noble priests and magicians of the Pantheon were dispatched to various places to treat the wounded, help civilians rebuild their houses, and register the families of those who died in the national crisis, providing them with a certain amount of food and money on a regular basis, with the state taking care of their lives to a certain extent.

Through various strategies, the Rose Emperor gained an excellent reputation and was highly respected by the Romans.

Meanwhile, the highly praised Rose Emperor was secretly drooling over a plate of grapes in the Roman palace, while a certain regent prince, who deliberately downplayed his own importance, was busy working non-stop, miserably handling various urgent government reports at his desk, while Boudica and Brunhilde on either side had become emotionless machines reading manuscripts.

"The Pantheon reports that the large-scale relief efforts of the past two days have led to shortages of food, medicine, and other supplies."

"Draw them from the first, second, and third provinces!"

"They said that the supplies they have are strategic reserves and cannot be used easily."