The southern reaches of the Judean Province.
Under the relentless assault of one-third of the Roman legions led by Nero, Bar Kokhba's territory shrank by the day. Against such utterly overwhelming force, even the bravest, most fanatical Jews who believed in the coming of the "Messiah" were powerless.
Village after village was razed to the ground. Fortress after fortress fell. Yet, the resistance the Roman army encountered only grew fiercer.
Take now, for example—
Nero, finally nearing Jerusalem, had only just succeeded in utterly crushing yet another fortress. The moonlight spilled over the desolate earth, illuminating its faint, broken contours.
The golden-haired girl strode across the collapsed city gates and shattered walls, the sound of crumbling rubble echoing through the empty buildings and streets.
Just earlier, when the defenders of the fortress realized there was no hope of escape, they descended into complete religious madness. They firmly believed: "This is the will of God. We are fated to die."
Thus, when the Roman legions stormed the gates, they were greeted by a scene straight from the depths of hell.
The Jewish defenders had burned every building to ashes. The entire garrison—men, women, children, the elderly—had taken their own lives.
And because Jewish law forbade suicide, they drew lots to "help" one another die.
Husbands cleaved their wives in two.
Wives stabbed their husbands through the heart.
Children killed the elderly.
"I'll stab you, you stab me back before you die…"
And the last survivor swallowed poison.
But this was hardly surprising.
By this stage, there could be no peace between the Jewish rebels and the Roman legions. It was kill or be killed. The Romans, after breaching the walls, would show no mercy to anyone. And the Jews, in turn, butchered every Roman they captured without exception. Some even claimed, "The very nostrils of their horses were clogged with blood."
"General, we've discovered another hidden tunnel dug by the Jews. Shall we burn it out with magic?"
"Do it. Have the mages scour every corner, whether there are people inside or not."
The hidden tunnels, constantly slowing their advance, irritated her to no end. Even though those tunnels likely held luxuries—glass tableware, cosmetics in leather cases, wooden jewelry boxes, incense burners—the golden-haired girl coldly issued her orders.
"Burn it all. Leave nothing behind."
The other two divisions of the army were advancing with the same ruthlessness. It wouldn't be long before all three legions converged upon Jerusalem for the final battle.
But for some time now… Nero couldn't shake a strange feeling.
From the direction of Jerusalem, something had begun to stir. Something that drew her curiosity… yet filled her with an indescribable sense of unease.
Since the outbreak of the Judean rebellion, the population along the entire eastern Mediterranean coast had been upended. Whole Greek villages, Jewish communities, Roman colonies—entire settlements had been wiped from the map. Mountains of corpses, adults and children alike, piled high in grotesque heaps.
The collapse of morality, the destruction of civilization, brutality without mercy—
Blood, flesh, bone—reduced to the same, indistinguishable matter.
According to the mages accompanying Nero's division, during the southern campaign alone:
200,000 Jews killed.
46 fortified cities obliterated.
568 villages reduced to ash.
The road beneath the golden-haired girl's feet was paved in blood. Yet, to this day, not a single shred of doubt or hesitation clouded her slaughter.
The corners of her lips curled faintly. A smile.
Equal parts unwavering trust… and sick, distorted delight.
Because, before the legions had divided into three, her teacher—the supreme commander of this campaign, the man who had instructed her for years—had said this to her:
"Nero, you will bring peace, joy, and happiness to all the people of the Empire. I believe… you already possess the courage to do so."
Novia hadn't spoken with force or command—rather, like a father gently coaxing a young child.
"It's because you are Nero… that I say this to you. Crush every heretic you lay eyes upon. Do this… for yourself, Nero."
And he had smiled.
In that moment, standing beside the teacher she revered, the golden-haired girl's heart swelled with countless emotions—pride, admiration, joy… and fragments of memory.
Before the campaign began—
Her mother, sensing danger from how close Nero had grown to Novia, had made a desperate confession:
"The headaches… they're because you've been poisoned since childhood. First by me. Now by Novia."
In that instant, Nero's mind had been calm. Clear.
Her heart accepted the truth without ripple or resistance—
As tranquil as a glassy lake.
No anger.
No confusion.
No resentment.
Simply… "I see."
…No. No, that's not right…
Could it be—
Have I already… gone mad?
Only now did the girl realize—
Her true self had been long since exchanged.
The fear she'd felt the day her mother abandoned her as a child… had been traded away along with it.
Thus, with unwavering, glittering eyes, Nero stared straight at her mother, Agrippina:
"Well, isn't that just wonderful. I matter to him that much… So much that this was the only way to keep me by his side. Honestly, Mother, you should've just said so from the beginning. I thought you were going to tell me something shocking."
"But… I'll wait. For the day he tells me himself. Or maybe… when the day comes to kill him, I'll hear it then. Hehe… I'm just joking. There's no way I'd do that."
The smile blooming on the girl's face was like a dewdrop-kissed rose swaying in the cool breeze—serene, unwavering.
"Mhm, as expected… I carry the same blood as you, Mother. A madwoman's blood, through and through."
The golden-haired girl spoke cheerfully, almost lightheartedly—
But she had long since descended into madness.
On the surface, she was still lively, vibrant…
But deep within, she understood with terrifying clarity:
In her heart burned a wildfire of insanity—
A flame that devoured all,
Offered all,
Desired all,
Reduced all to ash.
And so, when Novia spoke to her like coaxing a child, Nero had only smiled and answered:
"Teacher… why do you speak that way? You've taught me for so long… isn't this far too formal?"
"But, Teacher… everything you tell me to do… I'll do it. I'll do anything."
"Even so… I hope you'll always put your own safety first."
"Teacher, I'm your student, your disciple… but right now, I stand here as a soldier. So please… don't say such things to me. When commanding a soldier… one sentence is enough."
"Just say it—'Kill them all.' That's all I need to hear."
A subtle hint of madness flickered within her emerald eyes. Amidst the blood-soaked earth, the two of them locked eyes.
And in that moment, Nero thought—
How wonderful it would be, if, when those beautiful blue eyes finally closed forever… the last thing reflected in them… was only me.
She had never paid much attention to the things surrounding Novia.
But ever since he had taken up that strange, uniquely shaped "spear"—
She had been consumed by the urge to utterly destroy it.
Perhaps… it was nothing more than the gnawing, irrational paranoia born of her fractured, twisted mind.
"Kill them all."
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