Emperor Marcus sighed and sat back down. 

This time, Legatus Quintus wasn’t here to punch him into motion. The second most powerful man in Rome was lost along the trial. No one knew what happened to him. Maybe he tripped and fell and was stampeded to death. Maybe an Imperial Guard blinded by the desire to kill took him out. Maybe… Whatever happened, the man who commanded 60K Romans perished as easily and insignificantly as one of his sixty thousand men. 

Thankfully, there was someone else to do the talking. 

“Emperor!” Captain Agos turned to Marcus. His words filled with urgency. “You must leave here! Return to the camp! Contact the Aggressors and seek their aid!”

Marcus smirked. It was no use. Even if the Aggressors stepped in and defeated the Alphians, as an emperor who had a measly 10,000 troops, even less than Decimus, he would be effortlessly abandoned and replaced. His fate was sealed no matter what he does. 

Agos saw that as well, but he pushed on. 

“Your grace! Those aliens, they want to either enslave us all or slay us to the last! No matter what happens, the honor of Rome will be tarnished! Summon the Aggressors! Repel these aliens! Save our people!”

“Do your duty as the Emperor!”

Emperor Marcus nodded slowly. He had contact with the Aggressors ever since the alien ship came down, but he never tried to ask for them for help. A request like that would be a sign of weakness, and the Aggressors couldn’t tolerate weakness. Just look at their names!

But now, his pride would be the least important when the survival of the Empire was at stake. 

Giving his Imperial Guard captain one last nod, Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny trinket. With a single snap, he crushed the trinket. 

The next second, he disappeared.

The other Roman routers panicked as their leader, and their only hope, faded away. Agos didn't. He quietly turned to the other Imperial Guards and drew his weapon.

“Death comes to all, and if today is our time, then so be it!”

Above them, a dozen Alphighters dove down on the elevated platform, raining down death and destruction in their wake.

---

As countless transports went to the ground and unloaded swarms of killing machines, one of the transports was a bit...special. It floated in the air with its rear door open. 

One Jean Turner, in the body of an unfortunate legionnaire under her, stood in the ship’s hull. She glanced across the slaughter below before turning to an Alphian beside her for a question. 

“I have always wondered something. Why don’t you Alphians use automated combat units? This will rid you of the problem with the lack of brains.”

The Alphians had the resource to make millions and millions of empty shells. With their technology, adding functional AIs to them wouldn’t be that much of a problem. So why didn't they add millions of additional units to their count?

“When we were first created, our creators have decided that certain parts of our objective might be at risk of compromise. Thus, they implemented a series of rules to ensure our devotion to our own crusade. One of them is the restriction from developing complex artificial intelligence capable of acting without any Alphian control. Thus, if the Alphians wish to expand, we must convert and assimilate.” 

“But surely a race as advanced as yours can see the implementation of self-functioning AIs can greatly aid your cause.”

“Correct, but we are created so that the initial rules must be obeyed regardless of the circumstances. If we Alphians deviated from our goal, then victory will be useless.”

“Fair enough.” Jean shrugged before closing her eyes to absorb the souls below. 

If the initial ambush and the ill-fated attack were two appetizers, then this was the main feast. 250,000 Romans pursued after the Alphian ship. The vast majority of them went underwater, never to rise up again. 

As Jean did her thing, countless souls appeared from across the trail of death and streamed into her body. This many souls of such strength, killed so violently in such a short period of time, made the entire battlefield reek of death in the eyes of the only Reapress in the field. Even the Alphians could distinctively feel a bit uncomfortable as waves and waves of souls crossed them and entered Jean’s body. Their scanners didn't pick up anything, but their altered human brains were still complaining. 

Under the endless piling of experience of death, Jean’s comprehension of the inevitable end to all entities skyrocketed. The barrier still held and her real CAS stayed, but Jean knew once that barrier was bypassed, her combat capabilities would jump. 

The Alphians stood by and watched without stopping her. After Alpha-Sierra’s discovery, Jean made a deal with him. Already, there were hundreds of thousands of Alphian units across the planet. With the main Roman forces sleeping with the fishes, it wouldn’t be difficult for the Alphians to arm all of their shells. 

Who the brains were before they were converted didn't really matter to the Alphians, especially when they would be turned into Alphians foot soldiers. To them, the transmission of knowledge was no more than a full procedures in the brain surgeries. But to Jean Turner, the soul of an elite legionnaire deeply intertwined with death was worth ten souls of ordinary civilians killed defenselessly.

Suddenly, her observers, one of many she had following the Roman army, sent her a message. Jean’s eyes turned even darker as she increased the absorption rate. Within just seconds, she was finished. She quickly turned to the Alphian pilot. 

“Bring me back to the Roman camp as soon as possible.”

---

When the Emperor made the decision to pursue after the Alphian ship, the entire thing was in a hurry. A lot of things, including the Emperor’s own royal command tent, remained in the camp, which was secured by Legatus Decimus and his men. Even so, there were many things in the Emperor’s tent that couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. A squad of 200 Imperial Guards stayed behind to keep an eye on all the things. 

Inside the tent, Emperor Marcus’s body solidified in a flash. 

Two Imperial Guards standing outside barged in upon hearing the noise. They immediately knelt down when they saw their liege.

“Your grace!”

But Marcus didn't have time for formalities. 

“Gather all the Imperial Guards and secure this tent at all cost! No one enters! If anyone tries to force their way in, execute them on site!”

“Yes, your grace!”

The Imperial Guards weren’t fools. The Emperor, who led the best of the Empire to chase after an alien vessel, suddenly returned, alone. His first order was to secure the tent, likely from his own people. But they didn't say a word. It was their duty to obey the Emperor’s every command, regardless of whether they were justified. 

When he was alone again, the Emperor reached beneath his chair. It wasn’t as luxurious as his throne back in Rome, but it was as good as chairs could be under the circumstances. But he wasn’t going for the chair itself. He was going for a hidden compartment under it. 

He found what he was looking for. A small, metallic, pentagon-shaped device. 

He quickly set that on the table and tapped a key. Moments later, a hologram projction popped up. 

Blue armor from head to toe. It was an Aggressor. 

“Sir Isaac! The Empire needs you aid!” Emperor Marcus pleaded. From a few small details on the blue armor, he recognized the Aggressor to be the same one who first entered their world. He opened up dozens of portals and promised the Emperor wealth, powerful, and freedom from Protector interventions. 

He was also the one who gave the Emperor that teleportation trinket. If the Emperor was assassinated, chaos would ensure, and chaos meant forces wasted against each other.

The Aggressor tilted his head. 

“Explain.” 

“Three weeks ago, an alien ship came crashing down in my territory! We tried to put these intruder down ourselves, but they...they are so deceptive! They feigned defeat and lured us into a trap. And then, they used the sea to flood my entire army! Hundreds of thousands of Romans! Gone!” 

The blue-armored figure tapped his chin. 

“Are these intruders Voyagers or Supplicants?”

He didn't ask if they were Protectors. If they were Protectors, the Emperor wouldn’t live long enough to call for help.

“What?”

“Are they wearing black armors?”

“No! They are hundreds of metal...people!”

The Aggressor sighed. Metal people? There were countless races in the Infinite Realms. Many of them could fit that description. All the man could do was wave his hand, and an array of images popped up. All of them were pictures of ships. 

“Select the one you and your men chased after.” 

The Emperor flipped through three pages before zoning down on one of them. 

“It’s this one! Alpha...Alphians? Alphians! That’s them!”

Ironically, only now did he know the name of the race that ruined his dynasty.

“Hmmm...Alphians, you say?” The Aggressor’s tone was strange, almost playful. “And you said they wiped out your entire army?”

“Yes! I have lost most of my forces! If the Aggressors don’t intervene, these Alphians will crush my Empire!” Emperor Marcus was almost desperate. The Alphians could descend upon their position at any given moment. “Please! Provide aid! We have done your bidding well.”

The Aggressor nodded. 

And then, his projection disappeared. 

Five minutes passed. This was hundreds of times the time needed for the Aggressor to come over. Yet, there was nothing. 

When the situation became clear, Emperor Marcus collapsed right there in that tent. At the same time, having just returned from the front and being updated on the situation by her observers, Jean knew exactly what just happened. 

The Aggressors weren’t saviors. They weren’t saints. The only reason they came to the Roman Empire and helped them was so they could create as much chaos in the Infinite Realms as possible. In a sense, they never thought the Romans as allies. The most the Romans could be were pawns. 

If it was the Voyagers or the Supplicants attacking the Empire, then the Aggressor might step in and take them out to weaken the Protectors. But this was the Alphians! The Alphians! This was another faction who, as far as the Aggressor knew, sided with them against the Protectors! 

Why would the Aggressor step in and attack an ally to save another, weaker ally who has lost all his forces, and thus all his value? 

Perhaps the Aggressor Emperor Marcus put so much hope to would even support the Alphians. The Romans were done. Gone. Hopeless. Valueless. If they could contribute to the Aggressor cause by donating their brains to arm the Alphians, then bravo! Everyone would be happy!

The Roman Emperor was a fool to seek help from the Aggressors. That was like a lamb going to a pack of starving wolves for aid. 

But that also meant Jean no longer having to worry about a single blue-armored figure coming down from the sky and smacking her and all her plans to the ground. 

Which meant the Emperor was no longer a threat. 

She gave out a single signal.

Outside the camp, as the sentries glanced across the horizon once again, they saw something they never dreamt of seeing a million years. Thousands of metallic Alphians have circled around the camp and were approaching from all directions. They didn't even try to conceal their movement. As soon as the targets were in range, the Alphians opened fire.

A wave of blasts sent all the sentries to the ground. None of them gave out a warning, and they didn't need to. Anyone who had an eye could see the Alphians, and anyone who had a brain could tell it was too much Alphians for a couple thousand men to handle. 

Captain Caeso and Tribune Lorus ordered their men to arms before rushing to see their Legatus. There would’ve been one more of them, but Lieutenant Cossus fell in battle in the chaos of the defeat two weeks ago. 

When Caeso and Lorus entered Jean’s tent and found no one, they realized they might as well have died the same way Cossus did. 

The Romans resisted, and to their credit, they did bring hundreds of Alphians to hell with them. But in the end, the result was the same. 

Captain Caeso was blasted into oblivion while fighting. Tribune Lorus was stabbed to death by his own men as he and his guards tried to force routers to hold their ground. The Imperial Guards did step in and help as the battle closed in around them, and they surpassed Decimus’s troops in terms of kill count. Yet, even they were quickly overwhelmed. 

When two Alphians marched into the royal tent, they realized Emperor Marcus has already committed suicide. 

He has failed his people. He has failed his empire. Only death could rid him of his sins... 

...as if death was the end.