Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Now, this angler on high ground needs another, more substantial bait.

Pompey closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, his eyes were free of complicated emotions, revealing only competence and coldness, and... a sense of detachment...

"Your Highness, please allow me to stand with my soldiers!"

"Strive to live on, for yourselves, and for your Rome..."

Samael squinted and scrutinized for a moment, his murmur mixed with the sound of the wind reaching the commander's ears.

Pompey paused briefly, then grabbed his sword, shield, and spear, exited the protective barrier covered by divine power, and strode confidently into the battlefield.

Indeed, defending Rome was the duty of the Romans, not the obligation of this god, and they shouldn't have asked for anything in return.

The deity, standing alone on the gentle slope, looked at the spear of nation-building in his hand, and a sense of desolation and helplessness appeared between his brows.

Tsk, another good chat partner lost.

That's why I dislike overly perceptive people...

At this moment, thousands of armored Persian elephant cavalrymen marched out of their ranks with heavy steps and charged into the ravine. After being struck several times, the tortoise-shell formation of the Roman legion's front ranks shattered, and hundreds of men were trampled into mincemeat or thrown into the air.

These heavy tanks advanced slowly, while reinforcements continued to arrive from the rear and sides of the ravine. A mixed force of undead and arcane mages pressed forward, constantly encroaching on the Roman legions' operational space.

The Roman legions, fighting with all their might, were incredibly tenacious, like a turning millstone of flesh and blood, crushing the Persian army that had advanced into the valley piece by piece.

Darius III continuously deployed troops, plunging into these blood-soaked trenches, prying open the hard shell of the tortoise formation layer by layer, and devouring the inner flesh and blood.

Samael's eyes swept over the blood-soaked, locked battlefield, and gazed intently at the tens of thousands of Persian soldiers who remained unmoved. His brow furrowed even more.

Unfortunately, the two lines of defense that were originally planned to exhaust the Persians collapsed prematurely. Even though the Roman legion under his command had done its best in every aspect, it was still not enough to force the opponent to play its card.

Ultimately, we have very few cards to play.

Tsk, I guess I'm not good at endurance activities like fishing. I'm better suited to mental games like chess.

Well, we're still one move behind. There's no point in dragging it out any longer. Let's try to leave as many pieces on the board as possible.

A shadow crossed Samael's eyes. His fingers, which had been loosening slightly, tightened one by one on the gun barrel. His cross-shaped pupils opened and closed, and the light patterns on the gun body activated and appeared inch by inch.

Tsk tsk tsk!

Just as the ancient serpent was enveloped in a surge of dark ethereal currents, a sharp tearing sound came from the dim yellow sky in the southeast, and in an instant, dense black dots plummeted from the sky.

Puff puff puff!

In an instant, a barrage of heavy arrows, each a meter and a half long and with arrowheads gleaming with divine markings, rained down on the Persian army like a meteor shower, pinning thousands of soldiers, shields and armor, to the ground.

Looking into the distance, the archers were still nearly a thousand meters away from where their arrows would land. Their strength and range were beyond the reach of even their most elite Undead army, which horrified the Persians.

"Amazon!"

Immediately following, a roar like gold shattering and jade breaking arose. A short, silver-haired woman on horseback swung her chain hammer with a whooshing sound. Like a falling meteor, it crushed seven or eight Persian soldiers into mincemeat. Amidst the spray of blood, the bugle call for attack was loudly sounded.

Chapter Sixty-Six: Can you please consider the fish's feelings?

In an instant, the earth trembled. Behind her, female warriors, each over two meters tall and with a physique as strong as a cheetah, clad in light armor, rode on horseback or ran on foot, sweeping across the sand dunes at similar speeds, creating a vast and sweeping wave that kicked up clouds of dust behind them.

Tens of thousands of Persian soldiers who remained on the high ground, along with more than three thousand Undead guards surrounding Darius III, instinctively gathered on the southeastern flank.

However, upon contact, with a casual sweep of the two-meter-long spears in the hands of these women, the front ranks instantly fell like wheat under a sickle, with bones broken, tendons ripped, and internal organs shattered.

The army formation of tens of thousands of people was breached in just a few breaths.

The undead army that arrived just in time was also brutally cut in formation when faced with these women who were a head taller than them.

Their prized physical strength and regenerative abilities were easily torn apart by the claws of these female leopards.

Seeing that this group of women who had suddenly barged in were about to penetrate the heart of the army formation, the faces of the group of sorcerers changed drastically. They all activated their magic lamps, and the fire spirit Ifrit, which had been summoned, rushed forward with waves of heat.

Even the strongest physical body is no match for these energy beings composed of ether...

Puff puff puff!

Amidst the howling wind, streaks of blazing crimson light shot out, forcefully shattering Ifrit.

Divine runes! Divine blood!

These five thousand women are all...blood warriors! And the nine leading women are beings whose bloodline purity is close to that of demigods!

A strong sense of absurdity welled up in the hearts of the Persians.

With the main force tied down by the Roman legions, the number of troops left to guard Darius's triumphs was greatly reduced.

At this moment, the five thousand female warriors, their bodies shimmering with light patterns, converged into an overwhelming torrent, heading straight for Darius III atop the war elephant. This became the crucial blow that pierced the enemy's heart, leaving a trail of destruction and defeat in their wake!

It's been a thousand years since we last saw them, and these women from the Amazon are even more formidable than the Pegasus Knights of Mount Ares back then!

Samael's eyelids twitched as he watched the five thousand Amazonian female warriors, who were like tigers among sheep.

Of course, the stronger the better.

After all this time, the last piece has finally been placed...

Samael's lips moved silently, and streaks of light quietly dispersed in all directions, merging into the air.

Immediately, the man narrowed his eyes and looked at the Persians whose army was in chaos. He continued to conceal his aura and wait patiently, like a venomous snake lurking in the desert, blending into the environment and waiting for its prey.

At this moment, the Persian army, which was also at its limit, began to completely collapse under the attack of five thousand Divine Blood Warriors.

"I'll cover the rear! Protect His Majesty's retreat!"

General Monon immediately pulled Darius III off the conspicuous war elephant and ordered the accompanying sorcerers and the remaining soldiers to protect the Persian monarch as they moved into the valley to rejoin the main force besieging the Roman legions.

He himself led three thousand undead soldiers to cover the rear and face the oncoming Amazonian warriors.

But in just a quarter of an hour, these elite Persians, who were so proud of their strength, were routed by the Amazonian female warriors, who were superior in both number and quality, until they were swallowed up by the tide of the army.

The mighty Amazonian warriors swept across the sand dunes and charged into the valleys, like a pack of hunting lionesses, relentlessly tearing and chasing after their prey.

"Your Majesty, retreat! We have been defeated!"

The great hero Arash immediately made a decision: to put Darius III, who was grieving the death of his old general Monnon, onto a flying carpet, and split the army in two to save their own lives.

"The Great Khan has entrusted me with this heavy responsibility. This battle must be won; failure is not an option! If we fail, then let the gods punish us!"

However, the tall and strong Darius III ripped Arash's arm away, resolutely pulled out the curved blade engraved with sacred inscriptions, raised it high into the air, and recited the sacred prayers inscribed on it.

May the true God Ahura make me invincible!

A sacred white-gold flame burned fiercely on the sword's body, and Persian script condensed and peeled off from the flame, imprinting itself on the surrounding rocky ground to form a great altar.

As the inscriptions resonated rhythmically, a beam of blazing white light shot into the sky.

At the same time, a hundred or so spellcasters dressed in white robes gathered and chanted loudly. A large, golden book, its phantom image gradually solidified within the pillar of light, its pages turning with a rustling sound.

The Sword of the Dead, the Book of Destiny! The two great artifacts of Persia have appeared!

A divine intervention!

Samael gazed at the ever-increasingly intense beam of white light emanating from the Persian army gathering in the valley, and his brow relaxed.

How could a war to destroy a nation, involving 300,000 people, not have a deity present, either openly or secretly?

Luckily, I'm patient enough to finally fish you out of your mouse hole.

However, since we're here, let's stay!

As the last invisible syllable flowed from Samael's mouth, an eerie tremor connected from all directions, and hundreds of transparent runes and wedge-shaped divine patterns within a radius of several miles were reflected in the opening and closing cross-shaped star pupils, nested layer upon layer, like a sealed prison.

Whether it was the crisis under the Roman sky or the impending Third Greco-Persian War, the best way to resolve the situation once and for all was to first eliminate Cyrus, cripple the main Persian forces on the eastern front, and then clean up the rest of the mess.

Unfortunately, the attack in Rome went too far, almost crippling Cyrus. As a result, the Persian king abandoned his allies and fled faster than a rabbit.

This time, Cyrus was clearly traumatized, and without the intervention of Attila and Ramses II, he was certainly more vigilant.

Moreover, this Persian king possesses the Book of Destiny and is an expert at escaping, making it quite difficult to encounter him directly on the battlefield.

Helpless, Samael could only try to muddy the waters, force the Persian army into a predicament, and create the illusion that he was not on the eastern front, waiting for Cyrus to lose his patience and show himself first.

Tsk, you want to go fishing, and you actually have to consider the fish's feelings...

Samael muttered to himself, his eyes flashing with a cross-shaped pupil. He leaned back like a drawn bow, and the Spear of Creation in his right hand was wreathed in red and black flames. As the divine intent within the pillar of light solidified, it shot out suddenly, instantly piercing through the figure that had stepped out of the void and appeared on the great altar.

boom!

Instantly, the spear pierced through his chest. Caught off guard, Cyrus, who had just emerged from the high altar, was sprayed with golden-red divine blood and sent flying backward like a meteorite crashing into the rock wall.

Under the unexpected attack, the occultists who were presiding over the ceremony and summoning the true god all coughed up blood, fell backward, and looked incredulously at the molten rock and the highly crystallized, fiery-colored humanoid crater.

Slay...slay a god!

Scheherazade's lips turned white, his eyes widened in terror, and he nearly fainted from the shock. Even when his companions helped him up, he trembled and his limbs were ice-cold.

Finished!

hum!

Just as the Persians were ashen-faced and filled with despair, a golden roulette wheel with ten squares that did not require any symbolic markings appeared around the rock wall, its pointer turning to a golden goat. The surging life force, under extreme suppression, suddenly burst forth.

Self-healing? No, it's resurrection!

Samael sneered, took a sharp step, and charged forward. The rock wall beneath his feet cracked and collapsed, and the cross-shaped spear in his hand ignited with red and black flames, radiating a malice that cursed life.

Then, I'll kill you one more time!

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Salute to the Heroes, Attack the Enemy!

boom!

Amidst the terrifying explosion, Cyrus, who had just emerged from the pit, was sent flying along with his golden greatsword, which was engraved with Persian divine symbols. Dust billowed up along the way, and golden-red divine blood splattered everywhere.

A figure surrounded by intense red and black flames, gripping a spear in each hand, charged forward with explosive speed, closely following behind.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, Cyrus, his heart pounding wildly, mustered his strength, gripped his golden greatsword tightly, and swung it with all his might, desperately trying to defend himself.

Within a few breaths, the heart wound in the Persian king's chest, which had just been healed by the ram, tore open again, and with each pull and shock, the injury worsened.

Cyrus gritted his teeth and tried his best to block the two deadly spears on his left and right. The rapid and relentless attacks made his arms numb and sore, and his feet left deep and shallow dents. He retreated repeatedly, and his wounds gradually increased, making the situation even more unfavorable.

That's absolutely...shameless!

Terrified, the Persian king could not help but lodge a bitter and indignant denunciation.

He had barely arrived, before he could even catch his breath, when a sudden sniper shot pierced his heart, leaving him on the verge of death.

If it weren't for the God of War's [Ram] power that saved his life, he probably wouldn't have even seen who attacked him before dying with resentment!

If it's a case of the weak attacking the strong, such an unethical and underhanded approach can be understood.

But that guy is stronger than him! And he even shamelessly hid in the shadows to launch a sneak attack!

That's not all. Since he started, the opponent's offensive has never stopped, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

As a result, with his injuries not yet healed, he could only exert 70-80% of his full combat power, and was completely powerless against the formidable enemy who had been preparing for a long time.

Since the Investiture of the Gods, I have never seen such a shameless and morally bankrupt deity!

Cyrus was momentarily stunned when another piece of flesh was torn from his ribs by the spear tip. His face twitched involuntarily, and he hurriedly turned the pointer in the golden plate behind him toward the Phoenix. Instantly, the wings of light, composed of feathers, vibrated and increased in speed, barely managing to create distance.

However, as soon as it took off, the sky turned as dark as night, the stars twinkled, and one after another, glowing runes came crashing down on Cyrus with lightning speed.

I'm so angry, there's an ambush up there!

As orbs of light gathered around him, expanding and exploding, Cyrus the Great was filled with grief and indignation, and couldn't help but curse inwardly.

boom! boom! boom! boom!

In an instant, the sky brightened like the midnight sun, and the figure, charred black and smoking, with its wings scattered, plummeted headfirst to the ground.

Samael bent forward slightly, his muscles bulging and trembling like a dragon, mimicking the javelin-throwing technique of his old friend Scáthach. He incorporated cursed and instant-death runes into the spear, and scarlet thorns containing curses began to form from both sides of the spearhead.

Thrust! Pierce! Thorn of Death!

The grotesque and terrifying thorny spear, like a shooting star in the sky, carried unparalleled power as it pierced through the falling Cyrus.

But just as the javelin was about to hit its target, a simple arrow struck the tip of the javelin, and the arrowhead exploded the moment it came into contact with the unparalleled divine power.

But what seems like a trivial, insignificant touch is like a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a storm.

puff!

The ether exploded, creating layers of golden-red hues at the point of impact. The thorny spear, thrown out, deviated from its trajectory by a hair's breadth and struck Cyrus's shoulder blade, pinning him to the ground.

Meanwhile, the Persians, trapped and fighting like cornered beasts, cheered with exhilaration as their remaining Immortals closely guarded Arash, the great hero who had saved Cyrus the Great, on the gentle slope.