Wild Dragon of Rome 54 (Patreon)

I started running forward at full speed, ready to use the distraction of the sorcerer to my benefit. 

While their attack had ruined my initial plan, I had to admit, the opportunity it generated wasn’t too bad. They attacked two sides at the same, which, combined with my earlier efforts, actually forced them to commit not only their reserves but also some of the forces at the center. 

Initially, trying to force them to commit their reserves was just a fake plan. 

I didn’t really understand what Lillian and Astrid were trying to do. They either believed that my diversion attacks were the real thing, and decided to support it, or they thought to turn things more confusing to give me a chance to escape. 

I was sure that they weren’t trying to strip the sorcerer at the center out of his support, which made their achievement a complete accident. With my transformed eye, I could catch the movement. All the mages and most of the mage apprentices moved to support the sides. Meanwhile, only four apprentices stayed with the sorcerer, carrying oversized tower shields. 

The best part, they were moving toward me. 

“Oh, the irony,” I muttered as I found the setup roughly familiar. A weak center, reinforced wings collapsing against the target. It reminded me of the Battle of Cannae, one of my grandfather’s favorite topics, where Hannibal had delivered the single most devastating defeat Rome had ever experienced. Eighty thousand soldiers were killed, taking merely seven thousand enemy soldiers with them. 

However, why I found it ironic that the battle was the representation of Roman arrogance. During that battle, the Roman army had eighty thousand soldiers, led by two legendary sorcerer-consuls, confident that they could easily destroy Hannibal’s army of merely fifty thousand. 

With that confidence, they committed their forces to the center, determined to shatter Hannibal once and for all. Only for Hannibal to assign his elites to the center to pull the incredible task of holding all that force without collapsing, while the wings of the army surrounded and enveloped him. 

It was a battle I had to memorize every little detail, despite the fact that the Scipio family played no part in that battle. The Scipios had fought with Hannibal before, killing his father, and in turn being defeated by him in Hispania. They fought with him after, ending up with Hannibal’s ultimate defeat. 

Yet, it was the Battle of Cannae that my grandfather focused on the most because it was the battle that forced the Scipio family to completely rewrite its military doctrine. 

Maybe, if it wasn’t for all those lessons, I wouldn’t have even taken note of the similarities, but not that I did, I had to admit, the dilemma was the same. I was the reckless force that was trying to break through the elite center while the wings slowly closed on me. 

In the end, it meant that I was facing a sorcerer, and if that wasn’t intimidating enough, all he needed to win was to delay me until the wings arrived. Then, it didn’t matter whether he kept me here, or forced me to escape. 

Either mean, it would be my loss. 

Yet, even as I pushed forward, I couldn’t help but be amused that if he hadn’t sent the three air mages at first, I would have no chance of winning. 

Once I burst through the flames, I found myself across the sorcerer … only to stumble in shock. It wasn’t what I was seeing, as that hadn’t changed thanks to my enhanced vision. No, it was what I was feeling. It didn’t feel like a strong mage surrounded by four guards, but an open flame doused in mana. 

If it wasn’t for my sharp senses, I would have assumed that it was just his spells creating a cloaking effect, but it was not. From such a close distance, I could easily penetrate the cloud of mana around him. And, what I found was shocking. It was as if someone had replaced his bones with flowing magma. 

He didn’t feel like that when I saw him earlier. 

Was that what being a sorcerer meant? Becoming one with the element to the point that even his whole being subsumed by fire. Or, was it just a side effect of pushing himself that much? 

“Monster,” I muttered. At first, I felt like it was an echo. Then, I realized that it was the sorcerer, saying the exact same thing, his shock no different than mine. 

Well, I couldn’t blame him, not with my arm fully on display. This time, I didn’t bother hiding my abilities. I attacked, even as the four guards moved with speeds that could match me. I might have pitied them if it wasn’t for the familiar black mark on their shields. 

Instead, I used my claw to cut through the shield. To my surprise, it only went halfway. Whatever that shield was made of, it was not a simple material. “Monster,” the sorcerer shouted, and behind me, I could feel the mana transform. 

One disadvantage of trying to fight a sorcerer in close quarters. It was impossible to predict the attack trajectory. But, I was fast enough to dodge once I felt the build-up. He tried to change the direction, but he failed. 

It splashed against the shield ineffectually, making me wonder exactly what those shields were made of. But, first, I wanted to see the advantages. I grabbed another shield and pulled. I might not puncture it, but ripping it was easy. 

I used it to disperse the next spell before it even started to gather, and used the opportunity to kill the guard without a shield. The sorcerer tried again and failed again. Unfortunately, three guards were strong enough to defend him. 

And, I was afraid of stepping into the melee range. The closer the sorcerer, the more dangerous he was. 

Luckily, I had a different plan in mind. I started pulling mana wildly to my body, trying to drain the surroundings. A sorcerer could transform the free mana directly, but no mana meant he would be merely limited to an extremely strong mage. 

One that was currently wounded. 

It was a trick my grandfather taught me, but I doubted his objective was to weaponize it against a sorcerer. As for the target for all the mana, it was easy. My scaly arm. While it wasn’t able to absorb the outside mana as smoothly as the one that was produced by the dragon heart, it was still able to metabolize it somewhat. 

Then, suddenly, my arm started burning. Not as a pain sensation, but actually burning. The scales caught fire, radiating heat and pain in equal measure. 

“Arrogant. You think you can drain my mana without consequence,” he declared. 

Good point. I could feel my body weakening, but my arm was in a weird state. I attacked the next guard, and the flaming scales punched through it easily. The second guard was dead. 

“Impossible” he growled as he tried to cast a spell, but without environmental mana, he had to cast it directly, and it clearly interfered with the state of his body. His skin caught fire as well. “No,” he growled. “Guard me.” 

With my body weakening, it took almost ten seconds to kill the remaining two guards, but it was enough for him to pull the Spear of Scipio. I noticed that his skin stopped burning, but the Spear started to glow instead. 

“Are you shocked I can use your family weapon, bastard,” he growled. 

“How? I gasped as I made a show of retreating, but it was just a distraction. I had long come to terms with the fact that I would never wield the spear. However, the story of a bastard being scared of his family weapon was understandable. 

Patrician weapons had some weird powers over the bloodline. It was not exactly to fight against them. Of course, if I couldn’t feel that the spear was still inert, I might have reacted differently. 

Being killed by the family weapon was not a fun experience. I had seen it before, when a distant family member — possibly instigated by my dear uncle — tried to assassinate my grandfather. 

It was not fun. 

I faked my retreat, and the sorcerer, desperate to finish me off, attacked with his full power. I reversed my direction even as I ducked under the spear, trying to deliver a deadly wound. I managed to take half of his leg, and in response, he managed to scratch me with the tip of the spear. 

The Spear of Scipio glowed. 

We both froze. 

“I’m … dead,” I muttered, shocked by the sudden end. The weapon was inert. It shouldn’t have worked against me. I stilled, preparing for my flesh and blood to rot. 

It happened, just not to me. I watched dumbly even as the spear started to glow brighter as it started draining my mana. 

“B-but … you’re a bastard,” the sorcerer managed to whisper. I grabbed the spear, unable to understand why it was reacting to me. 

“Yes, I am,” I muttered, trying to understand what was going on. 

“K-kill me,” he begged. 

“No,” I said. “But, when you reach the Halls of Saturn, don’t forget to say hello to Quintus Scipio. Say that I’ll send my uncle to join you soon.” 

Luckily for him, the curse didn’t seem to react well to whatever that was going on with his body. I retreated, just as he caught fire. 

One down. One remaining.