In the night, the glow resembling fireflies rose, catching the eyes of the Spanish rebel troops stationed there.
A patrolling sentry widened his eyes in confusion, unable to understand what was happening.
Fireflies? How could there be fireflies here?
Then, when the atmosphere shook and those light spots gathered, the sentry finally realized something was wrong—
"Enem—!"
Before he could finish shouting the word "attack," a spiral-like beam of light suddenly flew from a distant hill towards them.
Unyielding, filled with determination and the resolve to win—
We must win…!
This is a struggle for survival!!
Boom!
As the light pillar descended from the sky and struck the ground, a violent explosion instantly engulfed the watchtower and the figures of countless rebel soldiers.
The enemy didn't even have time to scream in pain…
"Charge—!" Night roared furiously.
Following his roar, the 39 others also shouted in unison, then moved like ghosts, swiftly heading downward in the night.
Each of them was shirtless, to reduce the burden on their bodies.
Facing a fully armed army bare-chested was extremely dangerous.
Flesh is no match for armor; even a light sword strike could bring them down, leaving them unable to rise again.
But—
I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die…!
Night's words seemed to still echo in their minds. These men were desperately struggling, clinging to the hope of survival.
Their eyes were bloodshot, with a touch of madness.
They were gamblers, clutching at the last straw of hope in a desperate situation, chasing any chance of overturning their fate.
They were willing to risk everything, betting all they had for a slim possibility because they knew that in Rome's capital, there were people worth fighting for, worth sacrificing everything for to seek victory!
Even if someone fell, they couldn't stop.
The survivors would carry their comrades' beliefs forward, to protect their families and pursue justice.
This was something everyone had agreed upon before the final action.
Meanwhile, from the perspective of the Spanish rebels, seeing a group of bare-chested men charging at them, they were momentarily dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what this scene meant.
Many were still crying and fleeing in panic due to the aftermath of the earlier shot, not paying attention to the situation here.
Until Night and the others, lightly equipped, quickly charged forward.
Under his lead, they moved towards the fire caused by the explosion, against the flow of fleeing Spanish rebels.
"Kill them!!! No retreating, get back here! Enemy!! It's an enemy attack, get back here and kill these bastards!"
Among the Spanish rebels, finally—a commander realized the situation.
Seeing this group of bare-chested warriors fighting their way towards the Ebro River, he roared in fury—
"You idiots, move! If you let a bunch of armor-less savages break through here, I'll chop off your useless heads!"
Although they didn't understand what was happening, as long as it was clear they were enemies, they had to be killed!
Finally, many soldiers realized the situation and began swarming towards Night and the others.
The difference in numbers was too great.
Even Night, with his seemingly invulnerable body, could only force his way through the encirclement.
The 39 behind him followed closely, but they were merely flesh and blood.
Any slight delay in their steps could mean being hacked to death by the closing encirclement.
During this process, many were cut down, their bodies covered in blood, flesh torn, lying motionless on the ground.
The living couldn't afford to look back, advancing with greater fury.
In the midst of it all, Tiberius, well protected in the center of the group, felt his heart bleeding.
These men were dying for him.
If not for protecting him, one of those who had fallen might not have been one of his protectors, but him.
As Night and the others finally neared the edge of the encirclement, the enemy had completely surrounded them.
Realizing his group consisted of only a few dozen people with no reinforcements, the Spanish soldiers showed ferocious looks.
Even though Night's seemingly invincible body made them fear him, viewing him as a demon—
If the demon's power was truly as formidable as imagined, why would he be fleeing with his men?!
The enemies pursued relentlessly.
After Night impaled another Spanish rebel through the chest, he didn't immediately withdraw his weapon but swiftly moved past the corpse, grabbing the exposed tip of the spear protruding from the enemy's back.
Just like that, Night forcefully pulled the weapon along with the flow...
By the time he reached the banks of the Ebro River after an unknown period of slaughter, his entire body was drenched in blood.
He turned back to look.
At this point, at least half of the men who had been fighting alongside him were no longer there.
His pupils contracted slightly as he saw the men who had just been roaring and risking everything with him, now seemed like mere shadows before his eyes.
Night felt a heavy heart.
For the first time, he felt a sense of helplessness.
Even a hero who is invulnerable to swords and spears has things he cannot do.
Those who believed in him and were willing to fight alongside him might have thought they were just not strong enough to keep up and had fallen here forever.
But in Night's eyes, it was because he was still too weak, far from having the strength to bear the hopes of these people.
'I... am still too weak.'
When did he become so arrogant, thinking he could lead a war like Hector or Achilles, cutting through the battlefield on his own?
But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts.
Night made a very familiar decision: "I'll cover the rear— You all go first."
Although the Spanish rebels had no boats, they had bows and arrows.
If everyone jumped into the river with no one guarding the banks, those in the river would become sitting ducks, unable to fight back.
So, it was time to make a decision.
Hearing Night's words, Karl's body trembled before he spoke in a deep voice, "I'll stay and cover the rear with you."
The other soldiers looked over as well, but Night shook his head and sternly commanded, "Go!! That's an order!
Do you choose to disobey my order and get your head chopped off by me, or leave?
Which do you choose?"
His words were not only directed at Karl but also at any soldiers who might have thought of staying to cover the rear.
In the end, everyone's eyes turned red.
They silently walked past Night, each giving him a different look as they did.
It was a look of trust, a look that said they could entrust their backs to him, considering him their brother.
....
..