*Chrip!* *Chrip!*
A flamboyant bird in red and bronze feathers, gleefully sang, hopping on a tree branch. Its eyes were as gold pearls, and on its head was a straight red mane.
It suddenly seemed to notice and went silent, its little head being rapidly cocked around as it scanned the forest.
Suddenly, it hopped around and looked into the dense vegetation shrouding its view. When—
*Swing!* *Crash!!*
The leaves were slashed apart by blades, and the bird frantically flew away, chirping in alarm as it went.
Twigs were snapped and thick overgrowths were cleared away, widening a path. Within the dense forest, marched thousands of soldiers in long columns.
Their lorica segmentata were worn from cumulative damage, and their red tunics were ragged and torn at the hems.
Yet the soldiers persisted with a ruthless light in their searching eyes, and a rigorous vigor to their defined muscles.
This was the Roman legion, Legio I Adiutrix. They had gone ahead of Legio IV Flavia Felix to investigate the foreign land.
Legio IV Flavia Felix had stayed behind to establish a colony, a massive city called: Colonia Ulpia Flavia Felix Elysium.
The Legio I Adiutrix was a resilient and formidable force, having weathered numerous campaigns. However, of all their campaigns, this had been the most surreal.
They had ploughed straight down the forest after departing from Legio IV Flavia Felix, cutting through living predatory vegetation, traversing deadly geography, and felling large territorial beasts that set upon them with a ferocity unlike anything they had ever seen before.
Not to mention the little black demons that assaulted them during the night, some of which were sent back in black chests.
They had suffered significant casualties at night due to those vicious fiends. They blend into the night, and attack their encampments like rabid children; only these children were as fast as the average man, sporting bladed talons sharp enough to rend mail.
Unfortunately, these attacks had only increased in intensity as they went on. However, due to an outstanding level of commanding, the legate, Legatus Marcus was able to drive them out each time with the aid of his veterans.
Although, they had suffered severely in terms of casualties, they had learned a lot. This terrain was better traversed by Roman auxiliary units, preferably of Germanic origins, or any other tribe experienced with battles in this sort of terrain.
Auxiliaries also had lighter equipment, lighter armor, and weapons, and were generally more versatile than the legionaries. Unfortunately, the bulk of the auxiliary force they had brought with them was the sort not used to this terrain.
They had mostly been used up in prior battles soaking up the lethal unpredictability the strange land meted out, taking on devastating casualties in the process.
Now the remnants were mainly used to send back messages to the colony, which would then be relayed back to Rome.
As for the legion's goal, they hadn't simply pointed in a random direction and decided to march. But they were attracted by a strange darkness they spotted in a region far beyond.
They had journeyed ponderously for many months, but finally that darkness was before them. They could glimpse it over the canopies of the trees above; plums of darkness perfusing up into the clouds in the sky, creating a perpetual darkness as lightning faintly struck within.
Even though the day had just begun, it seemed about to end.
*Crash!* *Shreash!*
The last bit of overgrowth was cleared away, and the first column broke into a wide clearing.
A column quickly broke right, and another broke left before the main officers of the legion were revealed, armored to the teeth in prestigious alloy, marching forth with an air of dominance as the Legion's many standards and coat of arms were proudly raised behind them.
The Legate, Marcus Claudius Crispinus, led this contingent. He was a muscular man, dwarfing the average legionary in manliness and sheer presence. He had a gilded helmet, with a bright yellow longitudinal crest. His glided muscle curiass held a soft sheen, and at the front were crisscrossed with leather strips, badges of honor gained from various campaigns.
*PuoOh!*
A brass horn blasted into the air, low but far-reaching, and suddenly, the entire formation drew to a stop.
However, Marcus took a few careful steps further, his blue eyes glinting suspiciously as his hard jaw tensed.
He looked on with a tense furrow to his brow, seemingly in doubt at what lay before his eyes.
Beyond, at both sides of the expansive clearing, the forest went on before merging with a dark forest with larger, burnt black trees. Yet they seemed to pulse with more vigor than the normal trees, and were responsible for the black fumes as they seemed to exude from the very tree barks.
They stretched horizontally across both lengths of the forest, creating a barrier of dense fumes that constantly rose into the sky, merging with the clouds above.
It was a strange sight, and it did not escape Marcus, the semblance the fumes had with those produced by the little demons when they were killed.
'This may be their stronghold.'
Marcus guessed, however, that wasn't his main concern right now. As directly before him was a monolith of an ancient structure.
A massive circular platform that went as high as ten meters, yet that was merely the foundation, as cracked walls, wrapped up in creeping weeds, circled the platform. A wide stairway leading up into this structure stood thirty meters away, appearing cracked and worn down by time.
He slowly glanced back at his men behind before turning back, pondering his next course of action.
On one hand, they had accomplished what they originally planned to accomplish: found out the source of the dark fumes that split the sky. However, there was no way he was going to head further. They didn't know what evil lay within the depths of those ominous forests, nor was he willing to find out. The structure, however, was different. The final exploration before returning with all the information, relics, and treasures they had come across on the way here.
Marcus's eyes slowly drifted along the length of the walls with greed.
'Who knows... Perhaps here, I might find something much more valuable.'
*Fuu!*
Suddenly, he heard something, and spotted movement at the corner of the stairway. At once, he snappedly signalled back.
*Clackk!*
Immediately, the columns on both sides sprang into a defensive stance with tower shields in front and glinting spears pointed forward.
The silhouette staggered forward, and it seemed to be a humanoid being, completely covered in a dark cloak.
"Haahaa... I've waited, so long."
A tired, scratchy feminine voice drifted forth.
Marcus pushed away his flowing red cape and placed a hand on his gladius as the figure came to a stop before the stairway.
"A-are you Lord Shardarth's maiden?"
It questioned and fell into a coughing fit.
Marcus's expression gradually morphed from a tense look to one of confusion. However, he felt he must provide an answer to the mysterious beings' query.
"Maiden?!"
He scoffed and stood proudly.
"I am no maiden, but Marcus Claudius Crispinus! Legate of Legio I Adiutrix! Spearhead of the Armies of Roma!"
The figure faintly nodded in recognition.
"Hmm, yes. You do not bear the mark... Then you must be the champion of your people. The prophesied savior..."
Marcus drew his gladius and pointed it at her with a frown.
"I have revealed my name, stranger! Reveal yours!"
The figure's head tilted slightly, and in a fluid motion, raised her pale hands and waved them as a cloud of darkness danced about them. A black staff formed and was soon conjured from it.
She planted it against the ground and a dark aura forcefully blew out in all directions like a storm.
Marcus covered his face as his cape billowed, and the figure's cloak flew back to reveal the face of a pale, but gaunt young, bald woman.
Around her head was the tattoo of a coiled snake, and entangled around her forehead, were metallic black thorns.
"I... am High-Priestess, Indris. And I, shall be named, 'Despoiler of this...Roma.'"