A tide of red and yellow swarmed through the ashen hallways, tramping the burnt, crisp wooden sticks into a well-trodden compact footpath under the constant pounding of caligas. Their scale armour glimmered, bathed in the orange embers of distant fires. Bright red oval shields hung on their backs, foreshadowing the blood soon to be splattered upon them. Iron scabbards and leather pouches swung from their belts, occasionally accompanied by a meaty thud as it batted against their thighs. Propped up against each man's shoulder were two long poles. The section two-thirds up from the end consisted of a wooden cone shape flowing into a metal cap and needle that ended in a drill shape.

At the front of this red and yellow spiky snake was a trio. One soldier bore a long wooden pole. A red banner flapped in the air. A golden lightning bolt streaked diagonally across the flag, the shortened insignia of the Legio XII Fulminata. A golden eagle grabbed onto the gold-rimmed top in a takeoff position. Two officers stood in front of the standard bearer. One was bulky. The other had a slim figure.

The two stood in front of a closed arch, necks tilting up and down as they inspected the barrier.

Cyrus rotated his head to look at his second in command. "This is going to cause major issues..."

Shaylah raised an eyebrow. A condescending tinged voice escaped her mouth, "Oh, how so? You push it open and walk through. It isn't hard." She began following her own advice, walking slowly to the door before placing a palm on the stone surface. However, as she directed her forearm forward, a hand grabbed onto her shoulder. Yanked back, the second in command sent a blistering gaze at the owner of the foreign flesh. She hissed, "What was that for?!"

Confirming that she wasn't going to return to her previous action, Cyrus withdrew the offending body part and rubbed it against his face. "Watch and learn rookie," he smirked.

The roman spread his fingers outward and held them next to his head. "Always expect an enemy to be waiting in ambush in the unknown area!" His thumb pressed down into his palm. "You should then consider the tactics and unit composition." His index finger curled downwards. "After that, you should think of how you should approach this situation. How our units should be positioned and so on..." His middle finger followed the same action as his index finger. "After that...uh..." Cyrus hurriedly curled his ring finger into his palm. "And the final part, enact the plan." His final digit popped down, now forming a clenched fist.

His second-in-command crossed her arms, shaking her head in an exaggerated slow motion. A sigh left her lips, "You overthink way too much." Without another word, she retraced her footsteps back to the door. Shaylah turned her head, giving the gaping dungeon core a cheeky smile, daring him to stop her. "What're you gonna do? If you utilise the dungeon core ability, it would break your promise."

Cyrus sputtered. He plunged his surroundings into darkness as his hands covered his face. His thermoreceptors tingled at the hotness of his forehead. The standard bearer addressed his commander, "Sir, are you ill?"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Cyrus waved his comment off before giving his rogue second-in-command a glare and turning around to face his troops. "TURN AROUND! MARCH UNTIL THE FRONT RANK IS PARALLEL TO THE FIRST ROOM'S ENTRANCE! THEN PROCEED TO FORM A SHIELD WALL! PILUMS AT THE READY!"

The two centurias performed an about-face, the sound of pounding footsteps shaking the cavern once more. Cyrus glanced back at his officer, now leaning casually against the wall adjacent to the door. "If you get killed or captured, I'm not going to save you. That fault lies with you." She gave him a smug grin and a shooing gesture.

Sighing in despair, Cyrus trudged off, jogging after the disappearing backs of his legionaries.

He heard peals of laughter directed at his back. The roman turned around. "What are you laughing at?! It is your life on the life!"

He found the woman doubled over, wheezing and coughing as laughter exploded from her lips. Cyrus crossed his arms and leaned against the tunnel wall, waiting for the laughter to die down.

His second in command finally rose from her bent-over position, gently dabbing at the tears welling up in her eyes with a linen cloth. After a few minutes, Shaylah finally composed herself enough to piece sounds together. "Y-you," she hurriedly swallowed her amusement as it began to bubble up her throat, converting into laughter, "You think like a mortal! You do know that I can just revive back here in a few hours if I die right? And I can always kill myself to evade capture. Death is but a nuisance."

Cyrus's eyes popped from their sockets. His jaw hung open. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, unable to comprehend the sheer weight of this statement. After chewing on this revelation for some time, a small "Oh yeah," seeped from his lips. The roman raised his hands to his head and slammed them onto his face, meeting the pale flesh head-on. "Why didn't I think of that...?"

A sarcastic voice replied, "Cause you don't READ. Which I warned someone about..."

The sides of his lips peeked from the edges of his palm, curving downwards and disappearing behind his hands. This was the embodiment of every military leader's wet dreams, the ability to conduct surveillance without the chance of his own information being leaked. The ability to perform suicidal actions at a whim. Not to mention the amount of time invested into the person's training wouldn't be wasted... A slim stream of saliva dripped from his cheek. "This...this changes everything!"

Cyrus removed his hands from his face. He immediately rushed towards the officer, a toothy smile nigh-reaching the edges of his ears, his right hand outstretched.

Shaylah flinched and stepped back. Her hand slid towards the iron scabbard hanging from her belt. But before she could reach it, the man was upon him. His own hand intercepted hers and grabbed hold, pumping their arms up and down in unison. "Thank you," he repeated. Only as his arm began to tremble and falter did Cyrus finally let go.

"Shaylah, go ahead. I approve of this endeavour. Please scout the outside perimeter and report back. If not, well, I'll have been notified of your death. Good luck!"

After giving her plan his stamp of approval, the roman quickly pranced down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness.

A red, yellow wall of shields greeted his arrival at the chokepoint. Grinning, he commanded the centre column to fall back one position. Another round of rumbling and screeching of metal shook the walls. A vacant position appeared. Cyrus unslung his shield, threw one of the pilums into his pouch and kept hold of the other in his right hand. He slowly backed into the empty space, his shield closing off the gap and completing the image of an impenetrable red wall.