"Great King, why are you withdrawing your forces?"
Amid the swirling sand, an elderly shaman priest approached Altera, leading a white deer. He crossed his hands before his chest in salute and asked with a troubled frown.
The silver-haired girl looked back at the solitary mountain fading from view. After a brief silence, she answered calmly.
"Even together, I can't defeat the two of them. That man… he feels dangerous."
"The children haven't lost yet! We can hold those two off for you!"
"You would all die…"
"You are the messenger of the Eternal Sky! To shed blood for you is our honor! Besides, to conquer this land, make it our stronghold, and from here advance toward that place—to lead our people in pursuit of the true path to ascend to heaven—that is the wish we all share. Are we to abandon it just like this?"
"As long as you live, there will be a chance to reach the world I saw in my dream. We will have our opportunity. Let's go…"
Altera crossed the wasteland, passed beyond the solitary mountain, and gazed toward a distant point where sea met sky. Her eyes were deep and far-reaching, as though the boundless galaxy itself was reflected within them.
"Laaaa!"
Just as the Hunnic King stood lost in thought, a piercing, resonant voice suddenly rang out in her mind.
Clang…
The seven-colored greatsword slipped from her grasp and struck the ground. Altera clutched her head, her face twisting in pain.
"Quick! The Great King's illness has flared up again! Bring the medicine!"
The shaman priest's expression changed dramatically as he shouted toward the ranks.
Moments later, a young shaman riding a warhorse rushed forward. He carefully opened an exquisite sandalwood box and raised it high.
With one hand pounding at her throbbing skull, Altera used the other to take a shard from the velvet-lined groove inside the box. It resembled a crystal fragment, blue-white throughout, with starlight flickering faintly within. She stuffed it into her mouth without hesitation, then accepted the waterskin from the elder shaman and tilted her head back to drink.
The star patterns across her body pulsed between light and shadow before gradually settling into stillness. As the pain eased, Altera let out a long breath and leaned weakly against the wolf's back, her eyes half-closed.
"I'll rest for a while. Leave command of the army to you."
At the low murmur, the shaman priest nodded solemnly and returned to the ranks to tend to the wounded and restore order.
And that scent on that girl… it felt so familiar, like…
As the two figures disappeared into the distance, Altera slowly opened her eyes again, thoughtful. She lifted the sandalwood box and looked inside, her gaze darkening.
The medicine… there isn't much left.
...
At the solitary mountain, jubilation erupted.
Saved! We're saved!
The Celts, having survived disaster, burst into cheers. They fervently bowed before the crude red dragon banner at the center, kneeling to kiss the earth beneath it. With reverence in their eyes, they looked up at the figure suspended in the sky.
Yet when their savior descended lightly, he paid no heed to the fervent cries or worship. Instead, he walked straight toward the shattered Roman carriage, knocked gently on the wooden panel, and spoke in a warm voice.
"It's all right now. You can come out."
After a brief rustling, a small girl crawled out. No taller than a carriage wheel, she had a single rebellious tuft of hair atop her head, her bright golden locks tied neatly at the back. The fingers clutching the bronze dagger had turned pale from gripping it too tightly.
"So it was you who lit the sacred flame of Olympus?"
Samael removed the torch adorned with thunder and cloud motifs from the front of the carriage. After examining it for a moment, he frowned slightly as he asked.
"Waaah… Why did you come so late? I thought… I thought…"
The little girl, who had been stiff and trembling until now, suddenly burst into tears. She threw herself into the man's arms, sobbing as she weakly thumped her fists against his chest.
Brynhildr's expression darkened. She was just about to pull the clingy child away from her lord's embrace when Samael stopped her with a slight shake of his head.
So the call for help hadn't come from the Greeks, but from the Romans. To think they had carried the sacred flame of Olympus all the way to this unfamiliar land—unexpected indeed.
And such a precious flame, entrusted to a little girl… wasn't that rather reckless?
Having long resided in the north and knowing little about the affairs of Greece and Rome, Samael found himself puzzled.
Still, compared to the people before him, he was more concerned about the Hunnic King named Altera and the wolf riders under her command.
That presence… the aura of the Wandering Star again. It really refuses to fade.
Samael looked toward the direction the wolf riders had disappeared, his brows knitting together, unease flickering in his eyes.
Now even the human vessel of the Wandering Star's vanguard had appeared. The situation was far more complicated than he had anticipated.
For now… better to deal with what's in front of him.
Whoever had ignited the sacred flame, since they had crossed paths, it was only right to lend a hand for the sake of their shared stand against the Wandering Star's vanguard on the Peloponnesian Peninsula.
But now that the crisis was over, it was time to think about leaving.
The Ancient Serpent narrowed his eyes. Once the child in his arms had finally calmed down, he withdrew the hand that had been gently patting the blonde girl's back. He was already preparing to depart.
"I am Nero Claudius, the rightful heir of the Claudius family, one of Rome's Six Great Noble Houses. You have my gratitude for saving me!"
"I am Boudica, Queen of Britannia. Thank you for your mercy and aid."
As the two introduced themselves, Samael stopped in his tracks.
He turned his head stiffly, his gaze moving back and forth between the flat-chested little girl and the red-haired queen, his expression growing increasingly strange.
The Roman tyrant Nero… the Celtic queen Boudica…
How had these two—who were destined to become mortal enemies—ended up together, even fighting side by side against the Hunnic wolf riders?
While Samael was still sorting through his tangled thoughts, plumes of dust suddenly rose in the distance beyond the solitary mountain. Rhythmic tremors traveled through the ground, making fine sand and pebbles bounce.
The Huns had returned?
No. Roman banners.
As the crimson rose standards came into view, expressions shifted across the group. The blonde girl bit down on her lower lip and grabbed the corner of Samael's clothing, her face pale.
"Take me with you! As long as you escort me safely back to the City of Seven Hills, I will share everything I have with you!"
Boudica quickly realized what was happening as well. Noticing the doubt on the "Divine Messenger's" face, she stepped forward and spoke in a low voice.
"It's the Roman Seventh Legion. Arriving only now… I'm afraid someone doesn't intend for this child to survive."
Her eyes flickered, and she added firmly,
"You can come to our tribe. We have concealment spells and hidden spaces that can evade Roman pursuit."
Huns. Celts. Rome's Six Great Clans. The internal strife of the City of Seven Hills…
The situation here was far more complicated than he had expected.
Samael fell silent for a moment. He looked at the trembling little girl clinging to him, then at Queen Boudica, who watched him earnestly. After a brief hesitation, he gave a slow nod.
At once, the elated Celts moved with practiced efficiency. They quickly cleared the battlefield, stripping the Huns of their armor and clothing, taking their money, food, and water, and carrying off the wounded who could still be saved before withdrawing without delay.
Perhaps out of a complicated sense of comradeship forged in battle, the thirty-odd Roman soldiers on the rear slope were left untouched.
Once the group had gradually evacuated the solitary mountain, Samael curved his finger and traced Runes to command the flames, setting the corpses on the hill ablaze.
The remnants of the force, supporting one another, disappeared into the distance amid the roaring firelight.