The battle was over.

  The scent of blood, sweat, and iron hung thick in the air. The corpses of Parthians and Romans alike lay scattered across the field, twisted in death. The surviving legionaries moved among the fallen, finishing the wounded, looting weapons, retrieving their own dead.

  Lucius stood amidst it all, his gladius still slick with blood, his chest heaving.

  He had won.

  But the truth settled into his bones like cold iron:

  Victory was not glorious. It was heavy. It was ugly.

  And it was only the beginning.

  ?

  A Legion’s Duty

  “Regillus!”

  Lucius turned at the sound of his name. Marcus approached, his face streaked with dirt and dried blood. His armor bore fresh dents, but his eyes were sharp as ever.

  “First battle’s done,” Marcus said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You survived. That means you’re a true legionary now.”

  Lucius swallowed. Was that all it took? Killing? Bleeding? Watching men die?

  “Get your head straight,” Marcus continued. “We’re burning the bodies before nightfall. We don’t leave corpses for the wolves.”

  Lucius nodded numbly. He had seen the vultures circling overhead already.

  The Parthians had come to kill them.

  Now they would rot beneath Roman fire.

  ?

  The System Stirs

  As Lucius worked, the whisper returned.

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  A pressure deep in his skull, a presence watching, waiting. Then—

  A flash of light in his vision. The world dimmed for an instant, and then—

  ?

  Lucius exhaled sharply, gripping his forehead.

  He could feel the difference. The fear, the hesitation—it was fading. His hands no longer trembled. His movements felt sharper, more natural.

  The system was changing him.

  But why?

  And who had given him this power?

  ?

  Fire and Ash

  By nightfall, the funeral pyres blazed.

  The bodies of fallen Romans were burned with honor, their names spoken, their gladii placed beside them.

  The dead Parthians? They were tossed into a separate pit. Burned without rites. Without names.

  Lucius stared into the flames, the smell of charred flesh thick in the air.

  He knew he should feel something. Grief? Anger? Sorrow?

  Instead, he felt nothing.

  Lucius closed his eyes. The system wasn’t just giving him power.

  It was reshaping him.

  Piece by piece. Kill by kill.

  And deep within his mind, the whispering presence stirred once more.

  “This is the path of the chosen.”

  Lucius opened his eyes.

  He did not know what he was becoming.

  But he knew one thing for certain.

  This was only the beginning.