In just a moment, dozens of shields carved with Defense Divine Patterns shattered with a resounding crack, and the tightly formed Roman soldiers fell like wheat beneath a scythe.
This indiscriminate coverage strike caused significant losses for the Roman Legion since the start of the war.
Using these auxiliary troops as bait to exhaust Rome’s elites, clearly, their opponents also had experts!
Caesar’s pupils contracted, and he gazed far into the distance, spotting a uniquely styled Archer Legion at the forefront of the Persian army.
Each of them stood tall like a pine tree, with longbows over their shoulders, and quivers containing specially crafted arrows inscribed with Persian text, inhaling and exhaling as if devouring golden particles in the air.
This symbolized that they were demigods with Divine Blood.
An entire Archer Legion composed of demigods?
Caesar was shocked, and his gaze immediately fell on the core area of these Persian archers.
A rugged-looking man stood in the center, seemingly the commander of this Archer Legion.
He had bronze skin and deep, penetrating eyes, his facial lines etched with the harshness of weather, with grey-white hair entwined with grassland tribe leather cords. He wore a plain hunting outfit made of coarse linen and leather, with a wolf tooth talisman jingling softly at his waist.
Those calloused hands drew the war bow in his hand, as muscle rippled on his arms like mountain ranges, forming divine light patterns on his skin.
Immediately, a rallying Persian shout rang out around him:
Upon hearing this name, Caesar’s face changed abruptly.
Great Hero Arash! Meteor Legion!
With the gradual contact and integration of various Divine Eras, the book-loving Caesar had gathered much information and literature from beyond his borders.
If his memory was correct, the Persian Divine Era had a legendary Divine Archer named Arash.
Legend had it that he once shot an arrow 2500 kilometers, its power comparable to a meteor, calming a conflict between two massive armies and bringing peace to Persia.
Afterward, the Persians, in admiration of his deeds and strength, learned his archery skills and formed a legion of demigod archers, known as the [Meteor Legion].
At the same time, this legendary Persian Great Hero was solemnly chanting a holy prayer in a mighty voice:
"—O Lord as bright as the sun.
Grantor of all wisdom, dignity, and power, Mitra.
Observe my heart, my thoughts, and what I am about to accomplish.
Creator of the stars and moon, may your Divine Power descend!"
Golden flames raged fiercely from the burning Divine Blood, converging on the arrow poised on the bowstring.
As the bowstring trembled, the sharp arrow, enveloped in hundreds of golden flaming Runes, whistled directly towards the Roman forward positions like a falling star.
The golden arrow pierced through the outer Magic Barrier and, without losing momentum, smashed into the city walls.
A terrifying Magic Storm erupted, shattering bricks inscribed with Defense Spells into flying fragments.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
In an instant, debris filled the sky, and apart from a few quick-reacting demigods, most soldiers left in place didn’t even have time to scream before their bodies were ripped apart, reduced to minced flesh.
Immediately, the spilled blood and scattered limbs were incinerated and vaporized before hitting the ground, under the fierce light.
The Roman soldiers who survived by sheer luck because of their vigilance pulled a dust-covered Caesar from the crater,
Everyone shook off the gravel and dust from themselves and stuck their heads out from behind the fragmented brick wall to look outside the battlefield.
They saw that the previously guarded area had turned into a conical pit dozens of meters deep, with rock fragments emitting wisps of blue smoke, and even signs of high-temperature crystallization at the edges.
The remains of the war dead left at the site were nowhere to be found.
Caesar gazed at the scorched spots all over the ground, involuntarily taking a deep breath.
The appearance of Divine Blood Heroes on the battlefield was a dimension-reducing strike for ordinary people.
Fortunately, Arash’s arrow was shot at the cost of burning the divine blood, with a huge consumption.
After shooting this arrow, he was immediately carried away by the Persians.
If not, with two or three more attacks , he and his Roman Legion could pre-select their burial grounds.
However, before Caesar could rejoice for a few seconds, the somber and murderous horn of attack resounded throughout the Persian camp.
At the same time, the chanting of the Persian Secret Masters began intensely:
"Its source is flame, its power is light, in the name of our lord Mitra, descend here as a spirit of light, wield the sword of judgment!"
Magic Circle Diagrams appeared one after another from the ground, forming flame spirits in bright yellow, clad in armor, holding weapons, rushing towards the Roman Legion’s position.
Ifrit, originating from Persian mythology, is a legendary spirit or demon spirit from the Central Asia region.
Born from the fire, it has the ability to manipulate flames, capable of both burning and destroying life and bringing warmth and light, embodying both evil and sacred characteristics.
The Elf Lamp God residing within later divine lamps is a variant of Ifrit, with more effective controllability.
These Ifrit summoned to the battlefield came from the divine lamps created by the Persian Empire’s Secret Masters through alchemy, each engraved with a magic mark.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
These burning monsters, waving limbs that appeared and disappeared in the flames, flung scorching fireballs towards the Roman Legion advancing with a shield formation on the open ground, exploding instantly upon hitting the target.
Under the rolling heat waves, the air visibly distorted, and nearly half the trees and grass on the ground quickly withered and burned.
Just the spread of this terrifying heat was unbearable for humans.
As such, neither the magic runes with limited magical resistance on the shields nor the flesh and blood of the Roman soldiers could withstand the scorching flames.
In an instant, the Roman Legion charging towards the depths of the Persian army was halted; companies of a hundred men each defending fiercely were like being struck by artillery, their formations torn open, and then rained by arrows from the Meteor Legion from all directions, falling on the charge path one after another.
Seeing the Flame Elves swirling in mid-air wantonly slaughtering his soldiers, Caesar clenched his fists, his eyes full of agitation.
Finally, majestic outlines emerged from the sea.
Thousands of golden-red bands pierced the sky, falling into the Persian army’s camp.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
The violent sounds of explosions occurred one after another; the ground trembled intensely, dust tens of meters high spread out, and the blood spraying out dyed the dust red, with pink torn flesh and colorful organs flying everywhere, severed limbs scattered all around.
"Finally, let’s have these Persians taste the beating!"
Caesar excitedly waved his fist, looking relieved at the black metal warships on the sea surface.
Meanwhile, a tall, thin man in a scholar’s robe stepped onto the deck, calculating to lock onto the positions of those Persian Secret Masters, solemnly speaking:
"10 o’clock direction! Distance 1200 meters! Ship’s cannons, fire three volleys!"
The soldiers on both sides knelt left and right, responsible for adjusting the gears and readings on the cannon barrels, the mages lined up neatly, divided into three groups, each injecting magic power in turn.
Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh!
As the magic arrays lit up densely, the divine patterns on the bronze cannon barrels glowed all over, and the concentration of magic power nearby instantaneously increased several levels, crimson magic beams swept across the sky, like the scythe of the God of Death, tearing apart the Persian army’s flank line, landing next to the figures in white robes and hoods, with flame patterns on their clothes.
In a split second, countless of these Persian Secret Masters were killed or injured unexpectedly, and many Flame Elves roared, twisting on their own and dissipating due to loss of control.
"Don’t stop! Continue the rotating bombardment according to my magic mark points!"
The tall, thin man, satisfied as he observed the Persian army fall back into chaos, nodded, gently patting the cannon barrel, turned his back on a crowd of mages and soldier gunners, and reminded them in a deep voice.
As the air once again buzzed and trembled, familiar magic circle diagrams sequentially formed and focused, and a hint of nostalgia and sentiment involuntarily appeared in the tall man’s eyes.
Gentlemen, the times have changed!
Taste the technology of Atlantis!