?

  The Weight of the Warlord’s Gaze

  The battlefield was chaos.

  Men screamed. Hooves thundered across the packed dirt. Blood ran in dark rivers between broken shields and shattered spears.

  Lucius fought on instinct, his gladius flashing in the firelight. His muscles burned, his breath came ragged—but he couldn’t stop.

  Yet even as he fought, something prickled at the edge of his mind.

  An unnatural stillness in the storm of battle.

  The Parthian warlord stood motionless atop his black warhorse, his burning eyes scanning the battlefield.

  Lucius felt it again.

  The pull.

  Like invisible tendrils sweeping across the battlefield, probing, searching—for something.

  No. For someone.

  And then—

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Lucius felt his breath catch.

  The warlord’s gaze passed over him—and didn’t stop.

  The firelight warped strangely around Lucius, the very air shivering as if reality itself hesitated to acknowledge his presence. The moment stretched into eternity.

  Then the warlord’s eyes moved on.

  Lucius’ pulse thundered in his ears.

  It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t chance.

  His system was hiding him.

  ?

  A Legionary Vanishes

  Just then, a cry rose from the Roman line.

  A centurion from the other legion, one of the senior officers, staggered backward, his face draining of color.

  The warlord’s gaze locked onto him.

  A breathless moment passed.

  Then—

  The centurion from the other legion convulsed. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his body arching violently—before collapsing in a heap.

  Dead.

  No wound. No blood.

  Just gone.

  A chill slithered down Lucius’ spine.

  The warlord’s system—whatever it was—was doing something unnatural.

  Lucius’ fingers tightened around his gladius.

  What am I fighting?

  ?

  The Name of the Forgotten

  A murmur passed through the Parthians. Some of them lowered their weapons. Others bowed their heads as if in prayer.

  Lucius caught a single word whispered among them.

  Mithra.

  The warlord finally spoke.

  “The Light of Rome dims. The Shadows of the East rise.”

  Lucius’ system trembled.

  Lucius’ jaw clenched.

  The warlord wasn’t just a man.

  He was something else.

  And whatever power he wielded—it wasn’t meant for mortals.

  Lucius had survived this time.

  But if he ever grew too strong…

  One day, the warlord would see him.

  And when that day came—there would be no hiding.