Chương 96: Chapter XXV Verse I — The Rut of Blood — Final Part

The warmth of the Deliverer vanished, replaced by the frigid night. Ahead, a group of figures in heavy, dark cloaks approached.

"You all can take a break," Galan said to his crew, his voice a low command.

"Tiberius and I will handle this." They nodded and retreated to the campfire. The hooded men arrived, and the one in front spoke, his voice a deep rasp.

"Is it finished?"

"Yeah," Galan nodded.

"Tiberius." The massive wolf-man was about to summon something when he noticed Gaius standing beside him. The young arcanist's face was a mask of grim serenity, the soft boy from earlier in the night now gone.

"Gaius," Tiberius said gently.

"I suggest you look away."

"No. I want to see him." Galan smirked.

"You sure? You won't be able to sleep later."

"I can handle it."

"Let him watch," Galan ordered. Tiberius bowed.

"Very well, Master." He raised his arm, and a faint green light glowed from a bangle on his wrist. The desecrated remains of Aurelius' head then appear on his palm.

"Did he suffer?" Gaius asked. Tiberius looked away.

"He—""Oh, you bet he did." Galan grinned.

"My apologies, Gaius," Tiberius said.

"Lucius was… lacking in restraint."

"That's fine," Gaius replied, his eyes fierce.

"That's the least he deserves." Wow, he's prime material for the crew, Galan thought.

"Give it to the man," he told Tiberius. The lead hooded figure took the trophy without a tremor. Another man stepped forward, pulling back his hood to reveal the handsome, sneering face of a young god named Antaeus.

"So… this is the new 'Savior' the two councils wouldn't shut up about," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"You look smaller than the stories say. Heard you wrestled with Hercules and won. How?"

"Just caught him on an off day," Galan shrugged.

"So are we getting paid, or…?"

"Don't worry, I got it right here." Antaeus summoned a heavy bag of coins and tossed it to him.

"Five hundred gold obols, just as promised." Galan checked the weight.

"Thanks." He threw the bag to Tiberius.

"Share it with the others."

"Come with me, Gaius," Tiberius said. Galan then felt a mental prod from Lucilla.

"Galan, Aurelia won't stop convulsing."

"That's normal, nothing to worry about," he sent back before speaking to Antaeus.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Wait," Antaeus said.

"Two more things." He summoned a large, ornate wooden box.

"Your family told me to give this to you," he said before throwing it to Galan. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Galan caught it, inspecting the ruby-encrusted design. On the back, he spotted the etched illustration of Sérafael filled with gold, a crucial figure in ensuring the stability between the liberated angels and the sérafim who are still loyal to Yahweh. He opened it, saw the countless rows of gold coins, and closed it again.

"So the birdies finally recognize my efforts, huh?"

"If you meant the angels, then that's something you'll have to ask them yourself." Galan hefted the box, testing its weight.

"You know, I could kill someone with this." Antaeus grimaced.

"Is killing the only thing you ever think about?"

"That and good food, yeah." Galan smiled, storing the box in his divine vault.

"Ugh, you're unbelievable."

"Now what else?" Antaeus sighed.

"The Roman Council told me to ask if you are willing to rule over the Roman Empire."

"What?!" the rest of the crew shouted from the campfire. Galan's face soured.

"Are you serious?"

"I wish I was joking. They're sick of the mortals ruining everything and want to gamble on a ruthless god."

"Well, I'm not that ruthless," Galan said.

"Anyway, they told me that you're the best person for the job to turn it around, what with you already knowing how to run a small village and turning slaves into one of your own."

"True, true," Galan confirmed while nodding repeatedly.

"And besides, this whole thing was your idea anyway… I say, it's your responsibility to handle them on the scale of the whole empire." Galan looked down, his mind racing. If I accept this… I could have the resources to finally turn things around. He looked up, his gaze fierce and unwavering.

"Alright. If me taking the throne means the Romans will have a better future, then I'll do anything in my power to make it a reality." He paused, his expression hardening.

"But… I'll do it in my own way."

"Then it's settled," Antaeus said, relieved. He summoned a contract.

"Fifty million denarii, extra lands, free builders, and other gifts the moment you sit on the throne."

"Hey, Aelia!" Galan called over his shoulder.

"How much is that in zorla?!"

"Around four million!" she shouted back. Galan whistled.

"Alright, I'm impressed." His focus returned to Antaeus.

"But how did they scrounge up the funds? I thought they were one missed payment away from a full-blown legionnaire riot."

"Once the councils decided to believe in you, they asked their mortal followers to provide offerings," Antaeus explained.

"Galan, her condition is worsening," Lucilla's voice echoed in Galan's mind.

"I'll check on her later. Just don't wake her up," he sent back with a smirk.

"Including the Senate?"

"Yeah," Antaeus said, eyeing his expression.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Okay," Lucilla confirmed.

"Don't mind that. You guys didn't tell them I want to slaughter most of them?"

"Well," Antaeus replied, "they agreed to give up their possessions under the promise that you won't do that." Galan looked away, annoyed.

"Ugh, really? How am I supposed to clean up the filth if they're glued to the furniture?"

"Listen, most of them are old," Antaeus explained.

"They'll die sooner or later. Besides, everyone agreed you will have absolute power other than that. Jupiter himself gave his promise." Galan thought for a moment.

"Hmm… if you put it that way…" He looked up.

"I'll accept." Antaeus let out a sigh of relief.

"You have no idea how much burden you removed from me by just saying that."

"You can just stop being their little dog, y'know?" Galan advised.

"After all, Hercules will always be the number one on both sides." His mindcast brought over the sharp pain of jealousy and inadequacy, multiplied by the memories of a whole life under the servitude of both the Roman and Greek gods.

"Just sign the parchment and I'll leave," Antaios said bitterly.

"I don't need to hear this from you."

"Whoa, alright. I'll sign it now." Galan untied the parchment, bit his thumb, and signed his name in blood.

"And… done." Antaeus took the contract and bowed deeply.

"I shall await you on your throne, Emperor."

"Don't you think that's too soon, buddy?" Galan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong, I did that out of my noble courtesy. We have no relations outside of that." Galan nodded upward.

"Fair enough."

"If that is all, then we shall take our leave."

"Hey, take it easy, understand?" Galan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Don't compare yourself to him." Antaios glanced down as his jaw tightened, trying desperately to reconcile his lack of strength and virtue with what was expected of him. He shook his head, looking up at Galan with fierce eyes, his determination renewed.

"Even though I am not a thousandth of his greatness, I will still carry out my duties to my family." He turned to his men.

"Let us go." The hooded figures climbed into a large wagon, which rumbled away into the darkness, leaving Galan and his crew.