Roman Empire, Pisa.
In the commander's tent, a general with crimson eyes slowly opened his own.
His snow-white hair did not convey a sense of aging—on the contrary, the aura surrounding him was chilling to the bone.
"Soldier." The man casually summoned the Roman sentry stationed outside.
"What is the current situation? A brief summary will suffice."
"Yes!" The young soldier, agile in his movents, stepped forward and reported, "We set up camp here last night. It is now midday of the second day."
Only half a day had passed? He had spent a full three days in the magical girl world!
The man—Sakatsuki, who had just "woken up"—pondered this thoughtfully.
"Little Ming?"
[Additional explanation: The flow of ti across different dinsions is not parallel. Each operates under its own rules, fluctuating within a certain baseline.]
"Understood. So the ti ratio between the two worlds isn't fixed?"
[Correct.]
With this clarification, Sakatsuki turned his attention to the young soldier before him, recalling the knowledge he had cramd about the Roman military during his spare ti in the magical girl world.
Roman soldiers were divided into four types:
1. Velites (Light Infantry): The youngest, most agile, but least trained.
2. Hastati: Slightly older, more experienced.
3. Principes: Around thirty years old, mature, resilient, and the backbone of the army.
4. Triarii: The oldest, most seasoned veterans.
Additionally, there were rcenaries from other regions—Balearic slingers, Aegean archers—often paired with the Velites for combat.
This knowledge made the current situation glaringly obvious:
First, while the adorable Emperor Nero had claid to be using the legion to "supervise" Sakatsuki, this was rely her way of transferring military authority.
During the handover, she had personally draped the crimson cloak of the Legatus Augusti (Imperial Legate)—the symbol of supre command—over his shoulders in front of all the officers.
Second, fearing his disappearance might be noticed, Sakatsuki, as the supre commander, had ordered no guards to be stationed outside his tent before leaving. Yet upon his return, there they were.
Finally, the sentry was a Velites—the weakest fighters in the legion. Rather than protection, this felt more like surveillance.
"An outsider appointed as Legate... So the nobility and the Senate are resisting, huh?" Sakatsuki murmured with a faint smirk.
During Nero's Principate, the supre commander of the army was no longer the Consul but the Princeps (First Citizen). However, not every Princeps led campaigns personally, so the Legatus Augusti—appointed by the Emperor to govern imperial provinces—beca the de facto military leader.
A Legate with direct military authority, personally appointed by Augustus (Nero), was effectively the "Emperor's Proxy," answering only to the highest power in Ro.
For Sakatsuki—a foreign Servant—to be elevated to such a position overnight was an unprecedented leap.
And precisely because of this...
The legion's original commander must be seething with resentnt.
In the Augustan era, legion and Praetorian officers were exclusively drawn from the Senatorial and Equestrian orders. Common soldiers could rise no higher than Centurion—only nobles and knights were eligible for high-ranking positions.
A Legate like Sakatsuki, directly appointed by the Emperor, was undoubtedly stepping on soone's toes—likely the forr commander of this legion.
The two Velites stationed outside his tent were a blatant provocation: If he could defy orders today, he could lead a mutiny tomorrow and overthrow this "puppet" Legate.
"...Nero, Nero. You've really handed a thorny problem."
With an irreverent sigh, Sakatsuki stepped out of the tent.
Though the army had only arrived in Pisa half a day ago, trenches had already been dug around the camp, the excavated earth piled against the palisade to reinforce it.
Thousands of soldiers, led by their Centurions, were lining up to receive rations of bread, lard, and salted at from the quartermasters. Upon spotting Sakatsuki, they imdiately set down their als and saluted.
After generations of refinent, the legions of the Augustan era had beco highly professionalized, with ticulous standards for every aspect of campaigning.
"Legate!" A scout Sakatsuki had dispatched earlier hurriedly swallowed his bread and jogged over. The white-haired youth waved casually, signaling him to follow.
"Your na, soldier?"
"Vadim Rosario, sir!" The man—a forr Praetorian under Nero who had voluntarily demoted himself to serve as a scout under Sakatsuki—struck his chest in salute, barely concealing the fanaticism in his eyes.
"Then, Rosario, I look forward to your report."
"At once!"
After a brief circuit of the camp—enough to send a clear ssage—Sakatsuki returned to his tent with Rosario.
anwhile, news of the Legate's awakening and his eting with the scout quickly reached a certain soone at the far end of the camp.
***
"I traveled north along the diterranean coast. Before the stars faded, I spotted enemy ships and a makeshift camp by the shore. Then, venturing inland at dawn, I followed their supply train and discovered a second stronghold hidden within a village."
Rosario unfurled two roughly sketched maps as he spoke.
"The first camp was lightly guarded, so I gathered detailed intelligence. But the second was heavily patrolled—I couldn't get close. I could only estimate its layout. My apologies."
"No matter. You've done well."
To Sakatsuki's surprise, Rosario's eyes blazed with fervor.
"Thank you for your praise, Legate!"
"...Right." Sakatsuki suppressed a twitch at the dark circles under the man's eyes and his zealous expression.
His Spirit Origin was, after all, derived from a legendary general. After briefly leading Nero's Praetorians, dozens had voluntarily resigned their elite posts to serve as common legionaries under him.
And these weren't just any soldiers—they were n of distinguished birth or unparalleled rit, the very best of Ro's military!
The reason wasn't so overwhelming charisma, but a skill embedded in his Spirit Origin:
[Ten Strategists of the Martial Temple: A]
As one enshrined in the Martial Temple, this Avenger was a figure of reverence and dread—a fusion of strategic brilliance and battlefield command condensed into a passive, ever-active skill.
This skill combined the standard abilities of tactician-type Servants: "Tactician's Command" and "Tactician's Advice"—the very talents that forced a certain Zhuge Liang into perpetual overti.
The forr analyzed battle conditions to provide advantageous guidance; the latter maximized the combat potential of all soldiers under his command.
At Rank A, the unified skill [Ten Strategists of the Martial Temple] was borderline brainwashing.
Any legion under Sakatsuki's leadership would rapidly develop fanatical loyalty—especially after he led a ragtag force to crush a superior enemy in a decisive victory.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Sakatsuki studied the scout's maps.
"Camp One by the shore, and Camp Two hidden in the village. How many enemies would you estimate are stationed at each?"
"Based on tent counts, Camp One holds around 500. Camp Two has roughly 2,000."
"I see..." Sakatsuki frowned.
Logically, if the United Roman Empire—the faction under Lev Uvall (Grand Bomber)—was transporting troops by sea, they had two options:
1. Establish a fortified beachhead with overwhelming numbers to repel Roman counterattacks, then thodically expand their foothold to stretch Nero's forces thin.
2. Disperse imdiately after landing, using mobility and stealth to infiltrate key cities, preparing for a future pincer attack when the main force arrived.
But 500 n at the beachhead? Even if they chose the first strategy, this was a pitifully small garrison.
Did the United Roman Empire truly believe a single Cohort could hold the line?
Not even the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae had held back the Persian tide forever!
Then it hit him.
Sakatsuki stared at his hands, realizing a terrifying possibility.
"Dispatch orders. The First Cohort (over 2,000 n) is to prepare for departure this afternoon. We march on the enemy's second stronghold. Also, send—"
"I object!"
A voice dripping with defiance cut him off. The tent flap was thrown open as a man in scaled armor—radiating martial pride—strode in, eting Sakatsuki's gaze without flinching.
"Why ignore the enemy's landing point? Have you forgotten Emperor Nero's command?!"
***
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