Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

"You will all die..."

"You are the messenger of the Eternal Heaven, and it is our honor to shed blood for you! Moreover, conquering this place, using it as a base, and advancing towards that place to lead our people to pursue the true path to heaven is the wish of all of us. Are we really going to give up because of this?"

"Only if you live can you go to the world of my dreams. We will have a chance. Let's go..."

Attila crossed the wilderness and the lonely mountain, gazing into the distance at the horizon, her eyes deep and far-reaching, as if reflecting the entire galaxy of the vast universe.

“Laaaa!”

Just as the Xiongnu king was engrossed in watching, a high-pitched and resounding heavenly voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

Bangdang...

The seven-colored greatsword fell, and Attila clutched her head, her face contorted in pain.

"Quickly! The king's illness has flared up again, bring the medicine!"

Upon seeing this, the shaman's expression changed drastically, and he immediately roared towards the group.

A moment later, a young shaman riding a warhorse hurriedly stepped forward, ran up, carefully opened the exquisite sandalwood box, and held it high.

Attila pounded her aching head with one hand, and with the other hand picked up a small, crystal-like, blue-white fragment with sparkling starlight from the groove in the velvet, stuffed it haphazardly into her mouth, and then took the water bag handed to her by the old shaman and tilted her head back to gulp it down.

As the star patterns on the Hun king's body flickered with light and shadow before finally falling silent, Attila, whose headache had eased, let out a long sigh of relief and lay weakly on the wolf's back, her eyes slightly closed.

"I need to rest for a while. I'll leave the leadership to you."

With a low murmur, the shaman solemnly nodded in acceptance, turned and joined the ranks, healing the wounded and maintaining order within the group.

Also, the girl's scent... it felt so familiar, like...

As the two figures disappeared into the distance, Attila, lost in thought, opened her eyes, opened the sandalwood box, and gazed into it with a deep, melancholy look.

It seems like we don't have much medicine left...

Meanwhile, jubilation erupted atop the solitary mountain.

We're saved! We're saved!

The Celts, having survived the catastrophe, cheered and worshipped the simple red dragon banner in the center with fervor, kneeling down to kiss the land and looking at the figure suspended in the sky with awe.

However, as the savior descended gracefully, he ignored the numerous fervent shouts and worships, and went straight to the Roman's dilapidated chariot, gently tapping the wooden planks in a soft voice.

"It's okay, come out."

After a rustling sound, a small girl with a single, sticking-out ahoge on her head, her bright golden hair tied up at the back of her head, and a height no greater than a cartwheel, emerged. The fingers holding the bronze dagger were slightly white from gripping it too tightly.

"You're the one who lit the Olympian flame?"

Samael pulled the torch decorated with thunder and cloud patterns from the front of the carriage, examined it for a few moments, and then frowned and asked a question.

"Waaah... Why did you take so long to come! I thought... I thought..."

The little girl, whose face was tense and whose body was trembling uncontrollably, burst into tears upon hearing this. She immediately threw herself into the man's arms, sobbing and weakly pounding her fists on his chest.

Brunhilde, who was accompanying them, turned pale and was about to reach out and pick up the little brat who was snuggling in her master's arms, but Samael shook his head and stopped him.

It seems that it was not the Greeks who sought help, but the Romans, who had actually brought the sacred flame of Olympus to this unfamiliar land. This is truly unexpected.

Moreover, it's a bit of a waste that such a precious spark would end up in the hands of a little girl.

Having lived in Northern Europe for a long time and not being very familiar with Greek and Roman forms, Samael muttered to himself, feeling utterly bewildered.

However, compared to the people in front of him, he was more concerned about the Hunnic king named Attila and her wolf riders.

It's... Yusei's presence again! He's like a persistent ghost!

Samael looked in the direction the wolf riders had gone, his brow furrowed, and a hint of worry flickered in his eyes.

Now, even the human forms of the Star Guardians have appeared, making the situation more complicated than he had imagined.

Forget it, let's focus on the present.

Whoever ignited the Holy Flame, since we've encountered each other, it's only right to lend a hand out of consideration for our shared struggle against the Star Vanguard in the Peloponnese.

But now that the problem has been solved, it's time to consider leaving.

The ancient serpent narrowed its eyes slightly. As the crying child in its arms was soothed, it withdrew its fingers from patting the blonde little girl's back, intending to leave.

"I am Nero Claudius, the rightful heir of the Claudius family, one of the six great Roman clans. Thank you for saving me!"

"Your Majesty Boudica, Queen of Lower Britain, thank you for your mercy and rescue."

However, as the two sides introduced themselves, Samael abruptly stopped in his tracks, stiffly turned his head, and stared back and forth between the flat-chested loli and the red-haired queen with a strange expression.

The Roman tyrant Nero... the Celtic queen Boudica... how did these two people, who would become mortal enemies in the future, end up together and even join forces to fight against the Hunnic wolf cavalry?

Just as Samael was feeling conflicted, plumes of dust rose from the distant Lonely Mountain, and rhythmic tremors came from the ground, with tiny pebbles bobbing up slightly.

Have the Xiongnu returned?

No! It's the flag of Rome!

The people who saw the bright red rose banner had different expressions. The blonde girl bit her lower lip tightly, grabbed Samael's clothes, and looked pale.

"Take me with you! As long as you can escort me safely back to the City of Seven Hills, I will share everything I have with you!"

At this moment, Queen Boudica also realized what was happening, noticed the doubt on the "messenger's" face, and took the initiative to step forward and whisper a reminder.

"It's the Roman Seventh Legion! They're only arriving now; I'm afraid someone didn't intend for this child to live!"

Immediately, the red-haired queen's eyes flickered, and she solemnly replied.

"You can go to our tribe; they have techniques and hiding places to evade the Romans!"

The Huns, the Celts, the six major Roman clans, internal strife from the city of the Seven Hills...

The water here was deeper than he had imagined.

Samael pondered for a moment, glanced at the little girl trembling in his arms, then turned his gaze to Queen Boudica, who was looking at him eagerly. After a slight hesitation, he slowly nodded.

Immediately, the elated Celts swiftly cleaned up the battlefield, stripping the Huns of their armor, taking their money, food, and water, and carrying away the wounded who could still be treated before decisively withdrawing.

Seemingly due to a complex mix of emotions stemming from fighting side by side, none of the thirty-odd Roman soldiers on the hill behind the hill made any rash moves.

As the group gradually withdrew from the lonely mountain, Samael drew runes with his fingers to manipulate fire, burning the corpses on the mountain.

The remaining soldiers, supporting each other, gradually faded into the distance amidst the blazing flames.

Chapter 18 This is too much of a bullying of the dragon! (Bonus chapter for Alliance Leader Han Xiaoqing)

On the chaotic sea, the Viking fleet slowed down.

Scáthach lay on the bow of the flagship, gazing wistfully at the blurry coastline against the wind, her fingertips tracing a black scale as she murmured to herself.

"How did things go?"

"It's been resolved, but the situation was a bit beyond my expectations."

Meanwhile, in the group that had crossed the wasteland and entered the mountainous area, Samael, riding a warhorse, seemed to sense something, tightened the reins, took out another black scale that flickered between light and shadow from his bosom, and spoke in response, briefly explaining what he had seen.

"Should I bring the fleet ashore?"

"No need. This is someone else's territory. The mysticism is severely damaged, and the ether concentration is too low. Without the support of the Great Temple, I can only exert god-level strength at most. I'm sure you would be restricted as well. More people might not be a good thing. It might alert them and cause unnecessary trouble. Brunhilde is fine with me."

Samuel paused, then looked up at the gloomy sky, his eyes filled with helplessness and melancholy.

"Furthermore, even regarding the matter of going to Greece, Odin only wanted to use the name of a caravan to get rid of me. Before I have any bargaining chips to persuade him, our emperor absolutely does not want to see the power of the Norse get involved in the chaos of Rome and get burned."

Scáthach nodded slightly, agreeing with Samael's opinion, then rested her chin on her hand and casually asked.

"Then when will you come back?"

"I might stay here for a while..."

Samael looked around, his brow furrowing slightly.

"The situation in Rome is more complicated than I imagined, and there are even people connected to the Star Vanguard. If we don't figure out the situation, it could turn into a deadly problem. At that time, not only Greece, but the whole world will be involved!"

Moreover, I just heard that Rome and Greece have formed a pan-Hellenic alliance to support each other. The Greco-Persian Wars haven't even begun yet. If the Persian Empire were to make a major move, Rome would certainly react. Perhaps staying here temporarily would yield other benefits.

"So what are you going to do next?"

"To be on the safe side, we'll split into two groups. You will take the Viking fleet and continue disguised as a merchant ship, heading towards Greece from the Chaos Sea; Brunhilde and I will scout the situation while taking a land route to our destination, where we'll meet in Athens."

"Athens? I understand. Is there anything else you want to say?"

Scáthach memorized the contents of the meeting and continued to ask questions while reflecting on them.

"If you arrive in Greece first, remember to wait for my news and do not act rashly!"

"Okay, is there any more?"

"If you run into trouble and need help, you can take this scale to Holo. By the way, if it's convenient, bring her some mead, roast lamb, and apples regularly. Maybe you can build a good relationship with her beforehand. That girl loves those things."

"Any more?"

"The Valkyrie Legion is now in your hands. Slud is more reliable; you can discuss any problems with her. As for the remaining two, Hilde and Otlind, if they make mistakes, you can discipline them as needed. But they'll behave obediently in your presence."

"Any more?"

"Uh, should Sigurd keep an eye on those berserkers who go on drunken rampages? And should those arrogant druids be careful not to cause trouble on foreign soil?"

"Besides these, is there anything else?"

"I think... that's it?"

Scáthach pressed on casually, her five fingers, which were clenched tightly around the scales, turning slightly white as if from excessive force, and she asked back with a half-smile.

"Do you really trust me that much?"

Suddenly, Samael, who was walking through the forest, froze, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes darted around, and his expression turned solemn.

"Of course! You are my most trusted partner. It is because of you that I dare to risk splitting up my forces to investigate the situation here. Only you can control those arrogant and fierce soldiers, allowing me to have no worries!"

Samuel paused, his tone serious.

"So take good care of yourself. When we get to Athens, I'll treat you to the finest wine!"

The Queen of the Land of Shadows nodded slightly, her fingers clenching the scales before relaxing slightly. She looked up at the blurry coastline, a satisfied smile curving her lips, and let out a clear, pleasant nasal sound.

"Alright, I'll handle things at sea, and you can take care of things on land. See you in Athens..."

Only after the other party disconnected the magic resonance did Samael dare to shut down the connection, letting out a sigh of relief.

Tsk, woman...

The ancient snake put away its scales, shook its head and complained, then looked around.

"My lord, once we cross the valley ahead, we're almost there!"

A sudden voice rang out beside him, and Samael was stunned for a moment before he realized that the "divine messenger" mentioned by the red-haired princess with fanatical eyes was referring to him.

The ancient serpent looked at the red dragon banner fluttering among the Celtic ranks and couldn't help but sigh in disbelief.

He possesses the beastly power to analyze the spirit origins of magical beasts and transform into different forms of magical beasts.

Previously, after noticing the distress signal, Samael habitually transformed into his dragon form, capable of flying at high speed, in order to speed up his journey.

Moreover, in order to avoid revealing too much of his identity and attracting Odin's attention and displeasure, he simply used his dragon form to repel the Hunnic wolf riders.

Unexpectedly, by sheer chance, it resembles the mythical beast totem worshipped by the Celts.

However, after patiently probing the fervent princess, Samael's expression became strange and subtle.

The Norse pantheon influenced Irish and Celtic civilizations. Because the Celts rose to prominence relatively late, they were more primitive in all aspects, including culture, production, and beliefs.

Therefore, the powerful worship of magical beasts became their totem.

The reason this red dragon is sculpted on the flag is because of an ancient and fantastical legend.

There is a greedy, ferocious, and powerful red dragon in the world, guarding a treasure. Whoever can kill it will gain inexhaustible wealth, and bathing in its dragon blood will make them invulnerable to weapons and grant them unparalleled fame.

However, wave after wave of heroes went to fight the dragon, but without exception, they all died under the claws of the red dragon.

The dragon's power, wealth, and symbolic honor captivated the Celts, making it their tribal totem.

But the Celtics only know half of this story.

As for this greedy and powerful red dragon, its name is Fafnir, also known as Fafnir...

That's right, this is the dragon from the Norse Edda and the epic Volsunga, which was later slain by the warrior king Sigurd.

In reality, it was the "divine messenger" before the red-haired princess who truly guided Sigurd to defeat the dragon.

Because, after going around in circles, the real culprit behind the appearance of this dragon was Loki, the god of mischief, whose nominal father was him; Loki was merely a kind-hearted snake who helped clean up the mess.