Chapter 93. Overwhelming Victory Caesar was known for his innovative strategies, but in the battle against the Helvetii, he relied on the tried-and-true methods of the Roman army.
The Roman standard tactics were often the best way to demonstrate the might of their forces, especially when they suited the situation. In this battle, the advantages of the Roman army were clear.
The Romans threw their long javelins, known as pilum, before engaging in close combat with the enemy's infantry. These pilum were designed to bend upon striking a shield, forcing the Helvetii soldiers to discard the shields that had been protecting them from the javelins.
The Roman army operated in perfect coordination, with each legion commander, cohort commander, and centurion making independent but synchronized decisions according to the larger battle strategy set by the commander-in-chief.
Marcus saw an opening when the Helvetii front line, now weakened by the discarded shields with pilum stuck in them, was vulnerable.
"First line, engage the enemy immediately. Second line, support but maintain your distance. Don't push too far forward."
The 12th legion swiftly carried out Marcus's orders. Spartacus's century led the charge.
"Follow the legion commander's order! Slaughter the enemy!" Spartacus shouted.
The Helvetii soldiers, caught off guard by the sudden Roman assault, were in disarray.
"Aaargh!"
"Don't panic! Fight back!"
Thud! Slash!
The Roman blades cut through the unprotected Helvetii soldiers, who had no shields or defense against the attack.
There was a common misconception that the Roman army would focus solely on defense when outnumbered, relying on shields to repel enemy forces. But this was far from the truth.
When the enemy showed weakness, like now, the Romans launched bold counterattacks that were often more aggressive than any other force would dare to be.
The key to their success lay in their centurions—skilled combat veterans who led from the front, inspiring the soldiers to fight without fear.
Spartacus was a perfect example, cutting down enemies with deadly precision, his steel armor protecting him from any minor attacks.
With a massive weapon advantage, the Helvetii soldiers were unable to defend themselves effectively.
"Aaargh!"
"He's a monster!"
Thud! Slash!
Spartacus's gladius cleaved through the ranks of the Helvetii, cutting them down one by one. When they tried to block with their weapons, those weapons shattered under the force of his strikes.
One Helvetii soldier, desperate, swung an axe at Spartacus's back.
"Aaargh! Die!"
Spartacus didn't even bother to evade. Instead, he blocked the axe with his armored back.
Clang!
The axe shattered with a deafening crash, and the soldier's hand was torn apart as blood gushed from the wound.
Those who witnessed this scene gasped in disbelief.
Even the Roman soldiers who had never been in battle before stood speechless at the sight.
"He's a monster...a monster..." they muttered.
The Helvetii soldier who had struck out at Spartacus was paralyzed with fear. They had been certain that their weapons would bring down anyone in their path—but now, how could they fight someone who was impervious to their strongest attacks?
With the soldier paralyzed by terror, Spartacus turned him around and drove his gladius through the man's neck.
"Aaargh!"
The remaining Helvetii soldiers, now fully aware of the danger, screamed in panic. Meanwhile, the morale of the Roman army soared.
It was clear that the new armor, provided by Marcus, was not only effective but also a game-changer in real combat.
Spartacus, ever the tactician, purposely avoided making full attacks, lowering the morale of the Helvetii while simultaneously raising the spirits of the Romans.
His strategy was working. The Helvetii, intimidated by the Roman armor's defense, hesitated to launch a counterattack.
Their weapons were useless against the Romans' armor, and no one was willing to be the first to step forward.
Spartacus, riding the wave of momentum, swiftly returned to his men's side after slaying five more soldiers, his triumphant performance inspiring his troops to push back the Helvetii with renewed ferocity.
"We're invincible! Their blades can't touch us!" they shouted.
"For the legion commander!" they cried.
The 12th legion quickly drove back the Helvetii's right wing. But then, reinforcements from the allied tribes behind the Helvetii arrived, attacking the Romans from both sides.
Marcus remained calm and dispatched the third line, which had been held in reserve, to counter the enemy's offensive.
This was when the Roman army's standard three-line formation truly showed its strength.
However, Marcus ordered the soldiers in the third line to adopt a defensive stance since they were not equipped with steel armor.
He then climbed to a high vantage point behind his troops to assess the battlefield.
The situation seems to be progressing smoothly, he thought.
Surprisingly, the Roman army was pushing back the Helvetii, who outnumbered them by two to one.
The Helvetii's right wing, which was on the verge of annihilation just an hour into the battle, had major issues with troop distribution.
Reinforcements from the rear were hastily sent, but they proved ineffective.
As the third line held off the enemy reinforcements, the first and second lines continued to decimate the right wing of the Helvetii.
Caesar, noticing that Marcus's right wing was advancing, immediately shifted his rear troops to the left wing and ordered the center to bolster its defenses to fend off enemy attacks.
This move caused the left wing, which had barely been holding on, to collapse entirely.
It was a grave sign when the wings of a straight-line formation broke.
If both wings failed, the center would quickly be surrounded and destroyed.
The Helvetii fought desperately to hold their ground, but their left wing, under relentless attack from the 12th legion, could not be restored.
They attempted to send reinforcements from the center or the right wing, but both were barely managing to hold their ground themselves, leaving no troops to spare.
The Helvetii chief, seeing the imminent collapse of his forces, blew his horn and shouted with all his might.
"No! Hold your ground! If we fall here, we'll be annihilated! We can't lose here—it's for the future of our tribes!"
He searched desperately for a way to turn the tide, but his face darkened as he realized the disparity between the two armies.
No matter how much he encouraged his men, there was too wide a gap in strength.
Especially on the left wing, where his soldiers were falling like autumn leaves.
His mouth went dry.
If they retreated now, it would mark the end of his tribe's future.
This was a battle they could not afford to lose, but he saw no chance of victory.
"Damn these Romans!" he cursed, his hand trembling around his weapon.
Three hours into the battle, he heard a sound like something crumbling in his ears.
It was the sound of his left wing being slaughtered.
The noise of his soldiers falling felt like the end of the world to him.
"No! If our left wing breaks, our formation will collapse! Hold on, hold on!"
Unable to endure any longer, he drew his weapon and rushed to support his left wing, with his bodyguards following close behind.
He even called upon Ornorix, the Helvetii tribe's best warrior, from the center to aid him.
As they charged forward, they saw the 12th legion indiscriminately cutting down his men.
"Those bastards!" the chief roared.
His eyes locked on a Roman soldier slaughtering his troops like a butcher.
From the man's helmet, he recognized him as a centurion—Spartacus himself.
"That's him! Ornorix, stop him! If we kill him, we might slow down their right wing's momentum!"
Although the tide had already turned against them, none of them had any intention of retreating.
They knew they would die if they fled, but they would rather face their end honorably.
"That bastard!" Ornorix growled.
He gripped his axe and charged at Spartacus.
It was rare for a battlefield to pause for a one-on-one duel, but Ornorix's fury was so intense that even the Roman soldiers hesitated.
Spartacus, recognizing Ornorix's intent, signaled his men to step back a few paces.
Ornorix was surprised.
There was no reason for the Romans, who had the upper hand, to allow him a one-on-one duel.
He felt a chill as he saw the calm expression on his opponent's face.
The strong recognize the strong.
Ornorix, a seasoned warrior, instinctively knew that Spartacus was no easy foe.
I've heard the Romans are nothing without their numbers, but it seems they have some formidable warriors, Ornorix thought, tightening his grip on his axe.
Charging with surprising speed for his large frame, Ornorix moved in on Spartacus.
Spartacus's calm expression shifted for the first time.
He threw his shield to the ground and sheathed his gladius with a satisfied look.
The short gladius was no weapon for a one-on-one duel, and Spartacus preferred his long sword, the spatha.
This weapon, a masterpiece forged by Marcus's craftsmen, was legendary—said to be crafted by the gods themselves.
Spartacus gripped the spatha with both hands and swung it with stunning speed, intercepting Ornorix's axe with precision.
Clang!
The axe collided with the sword with a loud, resounding noise.
And with that single clash, the advantage was clear.
The blade of Ornorix's axe was split in half and sent flying, while blood poured from the hand that had held it.
Before Ornorix could regain his balance, Spartacus struck again.
His sword fell in a graceful arc, aimed straight for Ornorix.
Ornorix attempted to block with his axe, but it was useless.
Slash!
Spartacus's blade sliced through Ornorix's body from shoulder to hip, cutting him in two.
Ornorix, the best warrior of the Helvetii, was torn apart.
"Cough! Mon…ster…"
He tried to speak in his final moments, but the words died on his lips.
The surrounding soldiers, however, understood. He had meant to say monster.
Spartacus smiled bitterly, muttering to himself.
"If it wasn't for the difference in weapons, we could have had a fun duel... But this is war, so don't feel too bitter about it."
Ornorix had been no weakling, but the difference in weapons and tactical superiority had sealed his fate.
Spartacus left Ornorix's body behind, sheathed his spatha, and retrieved his shield.
His aura was unassailable, and no one dared challenge him.
The Roman soldiers, fired up by the sight of the gladiator's power, cheered with excitement.
Meanwhile, the Helvetii, having lost their best warrior in such a humiliating way, stood stunned, unable to process what had just happened.
It was such an unreal scene that no one even mourned Ornorix's loss.
Spartacus, having returned to his role as a soldier, drew his gladius and addressed the Roman troops.
"Maintain formation! Keep pushing forward! Glory to our legion commander and imperator!"
"Uoooh! For our legion commander!"
"For our imperator!"
The 12th legion, fully energized, was now unstoppable.
The right wing of Rome, led by the 12th legion, had already moved into a position where they could strike at the Helvetii's rear.
The Helvetii chief, panicked, tried to prevent his army from being surrounded by gradually retreating.
But he could not delay the inevitable.
The Helvetii, steadily pushed back, were soon driven to their camp, where their supplies were stored.
If they lost this position, they would be unable to retain even the bare minimum of provisions.
They fought fiercely to hold their ground, but they had already reached their breaking point.
Their morale had plummeted, and with too many casualties, they could no longer outnumber the Romans.
An army that has lost its morale becomes easy prey on the battlefield.
By evening, the battle, which had started at noon, had already shown its outcome.
The Helvetii fought bravely to the end, but eventually, they were forced to flee, leaving behind a staggering number of dead.
Caesar did not see the need to pursue them.
With their camp captured, they were practically isolated and powerless.
Moreover, only a few of the Helvetii managed to escape.
Most of the remaining combatants were killed in the final stages of the battle.
The chief, who fought until the end with his axe, was slain by Spartacus' gladius.
In truth, the Helvetii had suffered an irreparable blow.
There was no need to chase them down and wear out his men in the process.
The cavalry that entered the Helvetii's camp tore down their flag and replaced it with the Roman flag.
They shouted triumphantly, their voices booming as if to burst their throats.
"The Helvetii have fled! Hooray! Hail Imperator Caesar! Roma Invicta!"
The centurions, echoing them, raised their weapons high and hailed Caesar.
"Imperator Caesar!"
"Hail Caesar!"
The soldiers, too, joined in the chant, stamping their feet and praising their commander for his great victory.
The sound of eight legions cheering reverberated across the sky.
Among them, the 12th legion, which had taken the least damage, proudly added their own chant.
"Glory to the great victor Imperator Caesar and the son of Vulcanus, Marcus!"
"Hail Caesar! Hail Marcus!"
Caesar spread his arms wide and basked in the praises of his men, savoring the moment.
He looked around at the legion commanders gathered by his side and thanked them individually.
He particularly showed his affection for Marcus, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You deserve more credit than anyone else for this glorious victory. You were flawless."
"It was your precise troop deployment and reinforcement of the left wing that made this possible. I believe the real credit goes to my legionaries, who fought with all their might."
"You created the environment for them to fight so valiantly. I was very impressed by the new armor and improved weapons you introduced to your legion. We must talk more about that later."
Marcus smiled brightly and nodded.
Once the compliments were finished, the legion commanders dispersed to tend to their men.
Marcus turned toward his soldiers, who were still celebrating their victory with exuberance.
As he heard his name chanted by his men, something welled up in his chest.
It was a different feeling from when he had simply observed the slave rebellion or the eastern expedition.
This was his first true victory as a commander in a difficult battle.
Even if he won many more battles in the future, he would never forget the sense of accomplishment this one gave him.
His face beamed with a proud, full smile as he walked back to his men, filled with pride.
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