If you’re working with Jean Turner…

...and you feel like you’re about to achieve everything you have ever dreamt of…

...and Jean herself suddenly disappeared…

...then, beware…

...because you’re probably near the end.

Your end.

If Marcus knew who “Legatus Decimus” really was and what she has done, then chances were, he would turn his army around and run as far away as possible. Unfortunately, for what might be the very last time, the lack of information allowed him to be played like a fool.

“Scouts, report!”

In the middle of the marching Roman army and surrounded by thousands of Imperial Guards, Emperor Marcus demanded.

A rider immediately rode up to him. He took out a paper map and pointed at a spot.

“Your grace, we are here. The alien ship is here. They are moving toward a mountain range that we locals call the Camelback Range. And, if I may, your grace?”

“Speak!”

“Your grace, I believe the alien ship is trying to escape to the waters. Camelback Range is on the coast. Its other side is the sea. If the aliens make it over the mountains, we will lose any chance of pursuit unless we call in our navy.”

But none of the naval ships had anti-air capabilities.

“March doubletime!” The Emperor turned to his officers without wasting another second on the scout. “Anyone that falls behind will be executed! Everyone! Doubletime!”

Under the threat of the ultimate punishment, the entire Roman army picked up speed. Legionnaires and archers ran as fast as possible given the armors and weapons they carried. Equites became the ultimate winners here with their horses and light armor.

The real trouble fell upon the ballistas and the onagers. They were crucial to the assault, yet they were the slowest. The officers had to direct thousands of legionnaires to drop their weapons and armors and just act as labor just to move those siege weapons at an acceptable speed.

Even so, the Alphian ship still arrived at above the mountains before the Romans. But instead of just moving over the sea and saying goodbye to the Romans and getting out of this mess, the ship stayed right there.

Inside the ship’s bridge, Alpha-Sierra turned to the Artificial Intelligence controlling the ship.

“Commence Phase Displacement Protocol.”

“Affirmative.”

When the Alphian ship first arrived in this world, it was at its weakest point. Many of its functions were destroyed or disabled by the Shaku Riders. The unit count was exhausted. Things got so bad that when Jean and her guards made a move, all that Alpha-Sierra could mobilize to face them were a few automated blasters and several hundred newly converted Alphians.

But things have changed. The weeks that Jean bought the Alphians allowed Alpha-Sierra to bring multiple power reserves back online. Several functionalities were restored. One of them was flight.

Another one was the Phase Displacement Protocol.

The Alphians were masters at manipulating dimensions. Then again, any race capable of moving across different worlds by themselves could be considered masters of manipulating dimensions. One thing the Alphians could do was banish certain entities into an alternate dimension. Except there was one problem: the more energy the target had, the less effective this protocol would be.

If the Alphians tried to banish the entire Roman army, the protocol would last for less than a second. If they tried to contain Jean, well, the Power of Death could neglect any attempt made. Jean wouldn’t even be imprisoned for a fraction of a second.

This was the same with the Shaku Riders.

But the Alphians had something else in mind. They weren’t trying to phase out the Roman army. They weren’t even trying to phase out a portion of the Roman army so they could divide and conquer.

“Target...the mountain range.”

Mountains had some energy circulation, but not enough to matter.

One moment, nothing happened. And then, the entire piece of mountain range below the Alphian ship disappeared. No. Wait. They didn't disappear. They merely faded away, as if someone made them transparent. They were in this world in form, but not in substance.

That was all the Alphians needed.

The next second, the sky boomed and the earth shook. Along with it, a thousand ton of seawater poured across where the mountain used to be.

The first Roman that saw it was a squad of Equites scouts. One moment, they were finding a way to navigate across the mountains. The next second, the mountains themselves vanished. In the place of the mountains was the full force of mother nature, unleashed upon them because a difference in sea level.

“Oh...in the name of Jupiter!”

The men were so shocked that only when the waters washed over them and their horses that they realized perhaps they should run, but it was too late already.

“How is that even possible?”

In the middle of the Roman ranks, Emperor Marcus’s eyes widened. What? What? These aliens could just make a mountain disappear? That is so unfair! How could they possibly accomplish that?

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The Romans had the numbers. They had the brute force. Yet the Alphians had the information and the technology. They had trouble beating the Romans by force? Fine. But why would they wrestle with an army of barbarians when a few lessons of geography and phase science could do the job?

Hearing the desperate cries of his fellow Romans, the Emperor knew he should take charge. After all, he was their leader. But all he could do was close his eyes.

He knew this was all over.

The flood quickly washed over the vanguard of the army. Horses screeched as they were knocked over, forever robbed of the ability to stand again. Legionnaires did what they could do rid themselves of some weight, but when the water hit, they quickly realized they were so naive. Just the initial impact of this much water was enough to break every bone in their body.

“Form lines! Shield wall! Hold your ground!”

That was the sound of a valiant Legatus before his entire army was consumed.

Thousands of Romans fell and died every second. They were the essence of the Roman Empire. They were the result of decades of Roman strength and ambition. This was an army capable of crushing ten Earths. Even against the Alphian onslaught, they could bite a chunk off before the end. Even Jean Turner herself was a little bothered by what they could achieve. But what could they do against water? Block it? Kill it? Jean’s Power of Death might be able to do that, but it would take a lot more than some Roman swords to accomplish such a task.

Emperor Marcus wasn’t dead just yet, but every single one of the Romans around him could see what was happening. Even the Imperial Guards were shaken. How could they defeat a flood? They turned to their Emperor for guidance but found none of that.

Throughout the chaos, Legatus Quintus found his way to the Emperor. A handful of Imperial Guards who wanted to stop him were stopped by their superiors. Even Imperial Guards knew sometimes exceptions had to be made.

“We must act!” Quintus screamed into Emperor Marcus’s ears. At this point, some casualties were certain, but if the soul of the Empire was the first to collapse, then everything would be over.

Emperor Marcus stared blankly into the front.

Suddenly, Legatus Quintus snapped. With a swift move, he punched his Emperor in the face.

“How dare you!” This time, even the Imperial Guards couldn’t sit back anymore. They quickly drew their blades, but Quintus’s bodyguards did the same thing. They didn't care about the Emperor as long as their lord was at stake.

The punch brought the Emperor back into reality. He turned to Quintus blankly.

“We must act!” Quintus repeated. He didn't care if Marcus would seek retribution later. All he knew was if nothing was done, none of them would live to either seek or receive retribution.

“Yes. We must act.” The Emperor snapped to the scout who fired reported to him. He was a local. Not the Protector interpretation of local, but rather a local to this area. “Which way is the high ground?”

“That way…” The shocked local scout pointed at a direction.

“Move! Move! Get on your feet and start moving!”

Emperor Marcus turned and screamed at the man behind him. If he could, he would just abandon these men and ride out with his Imperial Guards. But at this point, all the troops have congested on the path. They had to move first to clear up the road.

As if they were suddenly woken up, the Romans turned and ran. Swords? Drop them. Spears? Leave them behind! Shields? Why the hell would they need shields? To block the flooding? Some even tried to strip down their armors on the way.

If taken out of context, the image of men running and stripping down would be quite a humorous sight.

But the entire time, the water came down mercilessly. Cohort after cohort was consumed. Everything in its way, whether they were horses, weapons, or men, became part of the unstoppable tidal wave.

The Emperor and Legatus Quintus made it out a distance, but the ten meter tall wall of water was tight on their heels. As the end came closer and closer, Captain Agos, the head of the Imperial Guards, suddenly made a decision.

The Emperor must live, even if it comes at the cost of everyone else.

After a few orders, hundreds of Imperial Guards suddenly dove into the Roman routers in front of the Emperor. The rear guard. Their swords and spears struck down mercilessly on those who had their backs facing them.

The cold, cruel fact was that waiting for a man to move took longer than reducing that man to a corpse.

The screams of the unfortunate victims rang out, but they were quickly silenced by the thundering end approaching. Most of the routers didn't ever expect to be turned on by the Emperor’s own men. It was when they felt the stabs in the back that they realized their mistake. Too late.

Hundreds and thousands hit the ground. Their blood stained the ground, forging a bloody path to safety for the Emperor of Rome.

But even so, the tide was coming down too quickly.

That was when five hundred Imperial Guards turned around. They quickly formed five lines. All had their shields up. The second line had their shields stuck to the back of the first. The third to the second. All the way down.

The screams and cries of the Roman legionnaires who were behind them didn't make them flinch an inch, and neither did the encroaching wall of water, men, and armors.

Slam!

The first wave of men was washed back by the wall effortlessly. They tried to dig their feet into the ground, but it didn't quite work. But before they could be pushed back, the second line held them in place.

With the superior strength of the Romans of this world, they were able to hold back the end for a few moments.

Of course, their fate was sealed the moment they stopped moving. The bottom meter of the flood was blocked, but the top nine meters weren’t. In just a second, the top nine meters collapsed and washed over the Imperial Guards. Once they were under, the Imperial Guards fared no better than the ordinary Roman soldiers as they were dragged to their deaths by their heavy armors.

Was their sacrifice worth it? Who knows? But throughout the path, the Roman Imperial Guards brought a new meaning to carving out a path and putting themselves between the Emperor and danger. By the time the Emperor reached high ground, less than five hundred Imperial Guards were with him. A few hundred lucky common Romans rested a distance away. Some glanced at the Imperial Guards in either fear or anger or both, but most kept their mouths shut.

Thankfully, the flood was directed elsewhere, consuming thousands and thousands of Romans who fled the wrong way out of panic.

He was safe, but the Emperor was far from thrilled. The Empire was doomed. He was doomed. After this battle, hundreds of thousands of the best of the Empire were turned into drowned corpses. As for the survivors...it only took a quick glance around for him to know these men were practically broken. Only whips and punishment of death might be able to move them. They were crippled already.

As soon as news of this gets out, there would be rebellions all over the Empire. Warlords who had more troops at home than him. Rebels who would gladly seize this vacuum of power to command control. Even bandits would rise up, betting that no one would have the forces to put them down.

But those estimations were still highly optimistic. As the Emperor looked up into the air, he suddenly realized chances were rebellions and uprisings were the least of his concerns.

It would be stupid to worry about rebels and bandits when you are no longer alive.

In the air, after enough water was let through, the Alphian ship dropped the Phase Displacement Protocol. As the water was stopped by the reappeared mountain, Alpha-Sierra knew it was time to mop the floor.

The flagship circled back, unleashing hundreds of reactivated Alphighters. All around, thousands of Alphian units were taken to the ground by transports. Most of them were converted by Alphian kill teams that have been working outside of the barricade. There weren’t too many of them, but there were enough of them to gun down the random Roman survivors along the flooded trail.

Emperor Marcus reached for his sword, and found nothing but an empty sheath.