How could I—allow you to escape alone?!
Although living for centuries among mindless undead, filled only with curses and resentment, had twisted Helena's personality,
But apart from her recklessness and wildness in fighting, she was still reserved in other aspects, still retaining her girlish heart.
Since she wasn't completely closed of from the world, of course, she fully understood what she had just done.
A kiss was something meant for lovers, for those held dear.
And she didn't mind if Night became her mate.
For a dragon, only a partner who could defeat them in battle was worthy of their approval.
The weak had no right to reproduce.
A dragon's way of thinking was that simple, that brutal.
From the moment she fought him, she had become infatuated with his powerful form, deeply enamored with the thrill of their clashes.
If she had to choose a mate—why not someone who could let her fight to her heart's content?
Why not fight with him until the very end of the world?
Her love for him burned so fiercely that she wanted to devour his flesh and blood, tear him apart—
If such a passionate emotion wasn't love, then what was?
Like her mother? A simpering fool who groveled at the feet of a man, offering up her own country—only to be abandoned in the end?
Helena's face twisted with disdain.
To love a man was to completely conquer him, or to be conquered. To subjugate him with power.
If she had been the Queen of Carthage back then, and the first Aeneas had dared to run away,
She would have roasted him with dragon breath, severed his legs with a scythe, and chained him to her side forever.
And if he was accidentally killed by himself in the process, it would only prove that Aeneas was too weak and wasn't worthy of her in the first place.
Helena had absolute confidence in her judgment.
However—
Just as she smugly assumed that everything was fine and signing a one-sided soul contract was enough, that it was only a matter of time before she could track Night down through their bond—
The next moment, her expression froze.
Right then, Night's soul aura vanished entirely from her perception.
Boom—!!!
A blinding surge of magic erupted into the sky.
It was a wild, wicked power, as if it had crawled up from the depths of hell itself, staining the land a deep crimson.
Helena's sapphire eyes turned scarlet once more. A twisted grin stretched across her lips.
"Hah?!"
Who?!
Which damn god interfered?!
The Twelve Olympians?
The brutish Norse gods?
Or perhaps the fae of the Celtic isles?!
To steal Night's soul right from under her nose and hide it away?
Heh—what nerve!
Swish—
The next moment, a cloak of blood-red magic materialized over Helena's shoulders, draping down to obscure her enticing figure.
Now, she looked just like a fairytale Little Red Riding Hood, adorable, seemingly harmless.
Of course—
Anyone who mistook her for a harmless girl was doomed.
.
.
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Meanwhile, little did she know that someone hadn't actually stolen Night's soul.
His simulation universe had merely reached its conclusion, and the system had automatically calculated the results before ejecting him.
When Night opened his eyes—
He found himself staring at Black Tower?
She was lazily swinging her legs, watching him with an amused expression.
Looking at the beauty in front of him, Night couldn't help but speak
"…Surprisingly pure colors."
Black Tower?: "???"
Then, as if realizing something, she suddenly pressed a hand over her skirt—hiding her exposed underwear.
Her face turned slightly red, but her expression remained composed as she spoke.
"One good news, one bad news. Which do you want first?"
"Bad news."
"Bad news is that you're dead. The Rome simulation universe test is over."
Just like that, thrown into a battle out of nowhere, fought his heart out, and then—boom. Dead.
Sure, he always knew the Rome universe was a deep, murky pool.
But he never expected to drown so quickly.
Still… wandering around and searching for miracles, it was quite the discovery.
In the back of his mind, Night mentally marked the location of Carthage's ruins.
Until he became strong enough to slap that she-dragon into submission with one hand,
He wasn't setting foot there.
Not to get wrecked again.
In the simulated universe, he can fight to his heart's content and fight with all his might when necessary.
But in the real universe, he only had one life, so he had to be cautious when necessary.
"…And the good news?"
"You have accomplished several great feats in the Roman universe, all of which are enough to reach the level of a historical transition period.
In other words—your rewards are ready for calculation."
"Then bring it on!"
Now, this was real good news.
He had already managed to bring Apollo's Blessing out of the Greece universe.
As for Rome?
He wasn't sure what he'd get yet, but if he could extract Rome's land-based divinity, then…
Thinking about that absurd physical enhancement, the continuous reinforcement, and even Helena's initial mercy had all helped him grow strong enough to fight a dragon head-on.
Though, of course—
Blue Flame Mode had also played a major role, and Helena also activated the red flame mode accordingly.
Afterward, the system entered its settlement phase.
Soon, a flood of information filled Night's mind.
First was the blessing of Rome's land—this was intact and directly carried over.
Next was the "Forty-Three Heroes of the Ebro River," a conceptualized reward from the Roman universe's historical recognition of his great deeds.
Similar to the Noble Phantasms or Reality Marbles in the Type-Moon universe, this ability had become a power akin to his own authority, something he could wield effortlessly.
Whenever he needed, he could summon the spirits of the forty-three warriors who had fought alongside him.
Enhanced by the blessing of legend, these forty-three heroes were no longer ordinary soldiers but had been significantly strengthened.
Moreover, as Night's power grew, so too would the strength of his soldiers.
While this ability might not seem overwhelmingly powerful at first glance, two particularly special individuals among the forty-three could also be summoned.
One was Tiberius Gracchus—!
Just imagining the expressions of the Romans who had lived from the previous era when they saw Gracchus' spirit summoned in reality brought a smile to Night's face.
It would undoubtedly be a fascinating sight.
The second was Carl!
This old comrade, who had once died, could now be revived in another form in the real world.
If his speculation during the battle beneath the ruins of Carthage was correct, the family name "Lista" was problematic.
Or rather, like the Julius family, it was another branch of the bloodline of the hero Aeneas.
A family that had inherited the combat techniques of the hero Aeneas.
Descendants of a hero's bloodline—!
No wonder Carl, despite being the most injured, had held out until the end alongside Night and Tiberius at the Ebro River.
Truly, no matter where you go, it's a world where bloodline supremacy reigns supreme.
It's not that ordinary people can't become heroes, but it seems incredibly rare for them to reach the level of the truly powerful.
Think about the Greek heroes vying for the title of the strongest, almost all of them were of demigod lineage.
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