"My brave soldiers, it's time to pick up your weapons and defend your sovereignty and dignity! Take back what rightfully belongs to you!
While we fought on the front lines, others sat comfortably behind us, enjoying the spoils that were rightfully ours.
Now, when we try to reclaim what belongs to us, they stand in our way.
When we sought justice through the Assembly, using the proper channels to protect our rights, we were met with bloody repression and betrayal!
Tell me, soldiers, what can we rely on now to reclaim our dignity?"
"Kill! Kill! Kill!"
The retired soldiers roared in fury, their eyes fierce and predatory as they glared at the private soldiers before them.
Before the battle had erupted, many of these retired soldiers still harbored a sliver of hope.
Even though they had been assigned to protect Tiberius, deep down, they still loved and respected their powerful homeland—Rome.
They believed, at least, that the Senate wouldn't go too far.
At most, they expected an assassination attempt.
But—!
But—!
Who brings an entire army for an assassination?
This was a blatant declaration that they intended to murder Tiberius, the very man these soldiers viewed as their beacon of hope.
Did the Senate truly believe that after killing Tiberius, they would return to being the obedient lambs they once were?
Some men may never rise again after kneeling for so long.
But they were not those men!
Now that they had risen, if anyone tried to force them back onto their knees... then
"Are you insane?! Lista Night, are you seriously raising private soldiers?" one of the young nobles shouted in horror.
He had overheard Night's previous words, where he openly referred to these men as soldiers.
The latter, however, simply shot the noble a fierce glare and responded,
"As if no noble in Rome has private soldiers... Why don't you take a look at the men standing behind you?
Are they supposed to be a bunch of sword-wielding babies?"
Night's merciless taunt caused the noble's private soldiers to flush with shame.
To be mocked as "babies"—this was an insult of the highest degree.
"This is different…"
"We are here on a mission, but you, Lista Night, are raising soldiers purely to fulfill your own ambition!
You've already violated Roman law.
Do you and Tiberius both dream of becoming Rome's next emperor?" the noble shouted angrily, trying to pin a label of treason on them.
He then turned to the soldiers, attempting to persuade them not to follow Night into rebellion, promising that if they retreated now, it would be as if nothing had happened.
Otherwise—
"The only thing waiting for you will be the crushing force of Rome's powerful army!"
At the mention of the army, several of the retired soldiers shuddered, hesitation flickering in their eyes.
But at that moment, Night's voice rang out, deep and commanding:
"So, will you choose to surrender? Are you willing to return to the life you left behind?"
"No!" a retired soldier suddenly shouted, gritting his teeth in defiance.
His voice trembled slightly…
Yes, hearing that they might face the wrath of the Roman army was terrifying.
Anyone would feel fear, hesitation, even dread.
Even though they were once part of that same mighty army, they were now mere civilians who just wanted to live peaceful lives.
They didn't want to risk their lives on the battlefield again.
But—
They hadn't retreated when blood was spilled on the battlefield before, so why should they retreat now in the face of a noble's threats?
After knowing the truth!
After learning that they had been exploited and oppressed all along!
They had once been proud, powerful Roman soldiers, only to be reduced to wretched, forgotten outcasts.
They drowned their despair in drink, living among trash and in filthy alleys.
Sometimes, in the worst of times, they even fought stray dogs for scraps of food.
In those miserable days of oppression and exploitation, they had often dreamed of a time when Rome would remember them—when Rome would recognize the contributions of its veterans.
Rome would never forget the soldiers who had died for it, they thought.
It just needed time.
One day, Rome would repay them.
But what was the reality?
Someone had finally told them the truth, the cruel truth that the future they prayed for would never come.
Instead, they would be stripped of their rights and their dignity and reduced to mere slaves.
Or perhaps—
They would die alone, in some forgotten corner, their bodies rotting alongside garbage and decay.
"To return to that life, where I was nothing but trash—I'd rather die!" the soldier roared.
At once, countless retired soldiers were moved, their emotions surging!
In an instant, more voices of rebellion rose up from the crowd, one after another.
Hearing these powerful cries, Night smiled in satisfaction.
Then, in a loud, commanding voice, he turned his attention back to the young noble and proclaimed,
"If Rome's laws have lost their justice, if they can't even protect the basic rights of the soldiers who fought for her, then—now I am justice!"
With that, he raised his arm high and gave the order:
"Attack!!"
In a flash, the furious retired soldiers charged at the helpless noble private soldiers.
The nobles' men tried to put up a fight—
But Night led the charge, like a tiger descending from the mountains or a dragon plunging into the sea.
His body, impervious to weapons, made defense unnecessary.
Driven by his emotions, he fought barehanded, unleashing his fury on the enemy.
His fists deflected their weapons, and in the next moment, he grabbed one young noble by the head and hurled him like a bowling ball, knocking down several soldiers.
The other noble—the one who had been mouthing off earlier—stared in horror as Night approached, ignoring the private soldiers standing between them.
He had made it through so quickly, after just tossing aside his companion like a rag doll.
"You—!!" the noble stammered in terror.
But before he could say another word, Night's fist crashed into his face with tremendous force.
The blow sent the noble flying, his blood spraying through the air.
Whether he survived or not, he was certainly left clinging to life.
What a fool.
Did I give you permission to speak?
Night had no mercy for these nobles, the same ones who had no qualms about ordering their private soldiers to kill indiscriminately, even slaughtering civilians without hesitation.
His brutal combat style left the remaining private soldiers completely dumbfounded.
Sure, they had trained against bandits and pirates, but had they ever faced something like this—something that didn't seem like a human at all?
"Damn it! You're insane—this is madness! You've offended the Senate, and all of Rome won't spare you!" One of the private soldiers, who appeared to be a small squad leader, cried out in terror.
In response, Night delivered a fierce kick, a sickening crack echoing as he shattered the man's knee, sending him face-first into the dirt.
Without hesitation, he then stomped on his head with a crushing force.
The ground was immediately soaked in blood, splattering everywhere.
Night then grabbed the man's hair, lifting his head, revealing the cracked skull beneath.
"Then let your so-called great Senate come for me... They don't represent Rome." His cold gaze swept over the lifeless face of the squad leader, whose nose and mouth bled profusely as he added with a sneer,
"It seems your Senate couldn't save you, could they?"
Clearly, in this battle, truth was measured by force, and at this moment, Night's fists were the only truth on this battlefield.