Upon receiving the news, Cyrus exited his mortal shell, returning to his dungeon core state. Nothing hindered his plunge towards the dungeon's entrance; phasing through the in-flamed carcasses of trees from malignant flames and stone walls, hovering over the shallow river. The repetitive scenes blurred past him, on and on.

"I might need to change the decor..." The roman muttered half-heartedly.

With the threat of destruction looming over him, Cyrus cared not in pursuing this line of thought.

"Let's survive first."

After what seemed like several hours of constant flying, Cyrus encountered the intruders.

His eyes bulged into something similar to a green frog's.

Two words left his mouth. "O Fortuna."

In the incorporeal pits of his stomach, the hydrochloric acid transformed into green butterflies, bashing and tumbling within the storage tank like newborn babes. A shuddering breath escaped his open mouth. His mouth slowly closed. An audible gulp exited from his throat as the roman fended off a torrent of bile and vomit attacking from the stomach.

The two adventurers were seemingly quite normal, equipped with standard-looking broad swords and round bucklers. Mismatched leather and plate armour covered the duo.

Yet, the eyes were not deceived by this facade. Every small, irregular jolt, jitter and jerk gave away their true nature. Their eyes merely a white backdrop with a tunnel to the abyss at the centre, gazing blankly in front. Their pupils lacked the burning flame of adventurers, nor the barest hint of a glimmer of the spark of life, notifying the world of the man's soul.

They were not human.

Cyrus scrutinised the pair of monsters as they slowly marched down the hallway towards the first room. Yet he couldn't find the source of the corruption or the unnatural states of these men.

He urged his invisible body forward. It twitched as the roman's subconsciousness clashed. It was a war within himself, his instincts versus his undying sense of morbid curiosity. After a brief skirmish, curiosity came out on top.

Moving forward, Cyrus carefully eyed the strange, alien creatures hiding in human form. Their complexion was relatively normal, with fair skin and black hair, much like the prior group of adventurers that entered this hall. Yet the tinges of pink upon the cheeks were missing...

"Demonic possession?" Cyrus questioned himself, but no answer appeared.

Shaking his head in a mixture of horror and disappointment, the dungeon core repossessed his mortal form.

Opening his eyes, Cyrus quickly gave Shaylah an overview of their description. Her eyes filled with growing fear. After rubbing her cheek with a deep look of contemplation for several seconds, the officer looked up at Cyrus.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she exclaimed, 'If I am not wrong but I hope am, the description you gave me all point unidirectionally at necromancy.'"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. The perturbed expression disappeared. "I am well-versed in Lucan's Pharsalia literature, and if my memory serves me right, although it doesn't occur in civilized areas, necromancy is used to create an assistant for a prophecy via magical means..."

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"Can they not be killed like everything else? Do they not bleed when pierced by steel?"

A hesitant whisper exited Shaylah's mouth, "Yes...but they don't bleed."

Cyrus quickly hid his inner turmoil behind a smirking mask., "We'll see...we'll see."

Hurriedly turning his back to his assistant lest he reveals the inner turmoil brewing within him, the roman scanned over the troops. Over a third had been fully equipped, armed with strange, enlargened gladius that mimicked Celtic design and triangular shields that offered limited protection, covering the area of a torso.

Cyrus turned to the tuba wielder, who thank the gods, hadn't been converted into this weird, barbarian-like military cult. He nodded.

A slow, deep hum exited the trumpet.

The men snapped to attention, rotating in place to face the decanus.

"I will keep this short and brief, I want all readily armed and equipped legionnaires to come with me to engage the enemy. The rest, upon receiving your armour, hurry to our location." Scanning the crowd to ensure that the news had settled into their brains, his lips formed a devilish smirk.

"Just follow the screams and cries of pain and despair of the enemy and you'll find us."

Beneath the din of roars, he heard a nearby feminine voice call out, "They're no longer legionnaires but knights!"

A cheer thundered across the cavern.

Raising his hand, the soldiers silently formed up behind him in two even columns. He rotated his open palm 90 degrees downward, now aiming at the blue portal.

The march began.

The 100 or so men rushed through the burning forest, barrelling through ashen logs and charred trunks as they tested out the newly issued armour.

Cyrus sighed in annoyance, "STAY IN FORMATION! DO NOT EXERT YOURSELF HEEDLESSLY. THE ENEMY WILL SOON BE UPO-."

Pain erupted from his heart. The sensation of a million swords driving their cold steel into his flesh all at once. The roman crashed to his knees, cursing every god that came to mind. After what seemed like hours of unending torment but was actually just a handful of seconds, the excruciating agony subsided.

Pulling himself up with the assistance of the Aquilifier, who temporarily propped the lightning bolt flag on the wall, Cyrus yelled at the legionnaires, no knights, to continue forward.

The rhythmic beat of stamping feet echoed through the chambers like a timer counting down to death.

Another jolt of pain. Cyrus staggered but remained on his feet.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The roman felt something disappear within him. But what that something was, Cyrus couldn't tell.

The door leading to the next room crashed open, sending a flurry of wooden shards and debris hurtling into the ranks of soldiers. But this time, not a single cry of pain rang out.

"The armour had proven effective," Cyrus muttered as he gradually lowered his Scutum, noting the half-a-dozen wood daggers lodged deeply into the leather.

Then the realisation hit him. The dungeon could no longer sense the location of the two intruders. Cyrus glanced up. He didn't have to. They had come to him. The sounds of screeching metal rang in his ear, forcing the man to cringe.

"Remind me to tell Shaylah the art of sheaths later..." Cyrus muttered to himself. The standard bearer nodded, "Yes sir."

Quickly glancing over his men, all crouched and at the ready, armed with swords and triangular-shaped shields, the roman slid the metal blade free from its sheath. He settled into a crouched position similar to the form taken by his troops.

The two warriors said nothing and did nothing. The only noticeable movement had been the drawing of their respective swords and shields. No stance. No insults. Nothing.

With a fiery grin emblazoned upon his face, Cyrus yelled "PERCU-"

The wall next to the doorway collapsed, sending a thunderous roar back at the dungeon core. The collapsed sections revealed countless monsters of ghastly proportions.

From the cracks and gaps between the reddish bodies and blood-tipped horns, Cyrus noticed the familiar swirling material. But it wasn't blue, but black and red.

A mumble exited his gaping mouth, "adiuta deus."

Cyrus finished his command, "CURSU MINA!"

[You are under the effects of [CURSU MINA] [Gallop! Charge!] +10% all stats]

[Command has been added to your [spell list]!]

[ERROR] CLASS UNCONFIRMED! PLEASE CONFIRM YOUR CLASS!]

[Do you accept [Caesar' Legacy] [Legendary Class] as your class?]

[Y/N]

With an echoing battle cry, the legionnaires turned knights charged at the enemy ranks, with the majority splitting off the destroyed, sections of the wall. The enemy returned the favour. Shrieks and unearthly screams intermingled the shouts and roars of man, mixing with the sound of steel and stampeding feet on stone to create a deafening pandemonium.