It was clear the squad leader could no longer hear anything Night said.
The dead do not argue for justice.
When it came to enemies, Night was as ruthless as winter itself.
He showed no mercy as he began slaughtering the remaining private soldiers.
Their leader—dead.
Even the noble they served was killed.
One terrified soldier, acting purely out of fear, instinctively charged at Night with his sword, screaming.
The latter didn't dodge or brace himself to absorb the blow.
Instead, he stepped forward into the soldier's attack range and, with lightning speed, delivered a devastating uppercut to the man's jaw.
Thud!
The powerful blow shattered bones, and the soldier's eyes widened as blood gushed from his nose and mouth.
His head lolled to the side as he collapsed to the ground.
Without missing a beat, Night threw another punch, this time more casually, striking another soldier across the face.
The force of the hit knocked the man unconscious in an instant.
As the soldier's weapon slipped from his hand, he caught it effortlessly.
Now armed, Night transformed into a relentless war machine, wielding the sword with deadly precision.
He slashed and hacked without pause.
Tearing, crushing, smashing!
He killed and killed and kept killing.
Blood drenched the earth as bodies piled up around him.
Finally, after the noise of battle faded into silence, Night stood alone, victorious at the highest point, surrounded by a sea of corpses.
The remaining soldiers, their faces pale with fear, stood trembling, weapons in hand, but not a single one dared to approach.
The weak defend themselves with weapons in fear of the strong.
The strong use their weapons to kill.
Seeing the terror in their eyes, he grinned.
"Look at that—no one dares mention the Senate in my presence anymore.
True justice is built on power.
If you can't even grasp that simple truth, then go home and drink your milk, babies."
Night stood at the top of a pile of corpses, his face calm and wearing a faint smile.
But none of the soldiers he had just mocked dared to utter a single word in rebuttal.
They looked at him in terror, like lambs staring at a ravenous wolf, or like prey facing a lion.
As the weaker links in the food chain, and faced with an overwhelming sense of dread, any notion of pride or defiance vanished from their hearts.
Pride? Dignity?
Those were luxuries now forgotten.
The only thought remaining was survival.
"So—let me give you a chance to live," Night's voice rang out loudly as he stood, drenched in the blood of his enemies. "Make the most of it."
"Now, tell me, who do you truly aim your weapons at? Is it those bloated, decaying nobles of the Senate, or me, the one standing here defending the interests of thousands of Roman citizens?
Will you allow your sense of justice to be tarnished?
You have the time of three breaths to decide.
Either drop your weapons, or continue pointing them at me, and we will fight to the death until one side's blood flows dry!
Before the gods, you must choose—become my friends, my comrades, or my enemies.
There are no other choices!"
With Night's command, the countless retired soldiers closed in, completely cutting off any possible retreat for the remaining private soldiers.
Now, there truly was no third option.
Under the immense pressure of Night's commanding presence, the private soldiers trembled.
The next moment—clang, clang, clang—!
A cacophony of weapons fell to the ground as soldiers, eager to live, hurriedly discarded their swords and spears.
The speed with which they did so suggested that even a second's hesitation might insult their own desire to stay alive.
This sight unfolded before thousands of Roman citizens, who burst into wild cheers.
From the initial shock and fear when the private soldiers had appeared and started slaughtering civilians, to the violent counterattack led by Night—everything had unfolded like a scene from the most thrilling of Hollywood blockbusters, but far more visceral and real.
The wild nature ingrained in the bones of the Romans had been awakened.
They screamed in admiration for Night's strength.
Even more so, they were in awe of the scene where, with a single sentence, this man, like an uncrowned king, had made an entire army throw down their weapons in fear.
The man had simply asked the private soldiers to fight him alone, not his entire force.
But even with such an advantage in numbers, they had cowered.
"Remember this day, for it is a special one," one excited Roman citizen said.
"Not only did Lord Tiberius announce new laws that will fill all of Rome with joy, but today is also the day that the great 'Last Hero of Rome,' Lista Night, forged his legend.
Against overwhelming odds, with the power of his charisma, he made his enemies kneel and swear allegiance."
Other bystanders nodded, even suggesting they would buy copies of the epic story once it was written, to preserve and honor it in their homes.
Night, as the man at the center of it all, smiled in satisfaction.
With his gentle, just nature and overwhelming charisma, these private soldiers had cast aside their allegiances and joined his cause, becoming friends and comrades.
What could be more moving than this moment?
'So, Night thought, 'Are you all moved by this?'
The private soldiers, trembling, mentally responded:
'Not moving at all!
Not daring to move!!'
Meanwhile, hidden among the corpses, a young noble who had feigned death to avoid the carnage witnessed everything.
His name was Hotrassi, and he cursed Lista Night's shamelessness under his breath, nearly passing out from anger.
'Despicable! Utterly despicable!'
Forcing their soldiers to surrender through sheer terror—it was cowardly beyond belief.
Hotrassi wanted to leap up and scream insults at Night, but remembering the brutal battle and how Night had shown no mercy, he wisely chose to continue playing dead.
All the other nobles who had come with him were already dead...He knew that the best course of action was to stay down and pray that the man would leave soon.
This man truly had no fear of offending the nobility!
No, it wasn't about fear anymore.
He had already crossed a line.
Killing nobles openly, trampling Roman law underfoot—what wouldn't this man dare to do?
'Sure, he's strong, but can he really be strong enough to stand against Rome's army?'
As Hotrassi trembled in thought, he completely ignored the fact that when he and his fellow nobles had planned to assassinate Tiberius, none of them had considered the legality of their actions.
It was the typical double standard:
'I can kill you, and it's righteous and legal.
But you can't kill me!'
When the powerful were faced with someone even stronger, their arrogance crumbled instantly.
.....