When Night murmured that phrase"crimson storm", Pronius felt a deep unease welling up inside him.
He had an instinct that it must be an unstoppable and terrifying disaster.
'A storm—crimson in color?'
As this thought emerged, Night seemed to read the minds of those around him as he said.
"Human progress is always born from challenges.
Someone once asked me how one can change the world.
I answered: start by changing yourself, one person at a time.
When one person's voice awakens the souls of all those who are sleeping, the dream deep within each heart will inspire us with courage and strength.
They march forward, roaring from the depths of their souls, proclaiming their arrival to the world.
By the Ebro River, I witnessed 39 souls charge into the storm.
They dyed the storm with their own blood, turning it crimson like their very souls.
Tell me, will you be the next storm?"
Without waiting for their response, Night continued, recounting from his perspective what he had seen, experienced, and heard—about the transformation of those 39 soldiers by Spain's longest river.
From the initial group of 43, they had witnessed death, pointless sacrifice, and confusion.
And then—
They ignited the fire of anger within their hearts, desperately trying to return to Rome with a burning desire to change everything.
Perhaps it was because their experiences mirrored those of Pronius and his companions so closely, except they didn't have someone like Night to ignite the fire in their hearts and guide them forward...
They were like those soldiers, aimlessly finishing their service, returning to a Rome that was unrecognizable.
Because they were so alike—
As they listened to Night's stories, they seemed to see another version of themselves—another possibility of their lives.
A single spark can start a prairie fire—
When countless people move toward the same goal, miracles happen.
Though in the end, the 39 soldiers in Night's story didn't meet a good fate, the fact that they had fought and roared, even for a fleeting moment of freedom, at least left a trace of resistance and struggle.
This stirred the hearts of those who had long since become numb, like soulless wandering spirits.
At least those people had truly lived.
"I'll be waiting for your good news.
If you want to join us, contact me at the address on this paper."
With that, Night left a note and prepared to leave.
He had said all there was to say.
Whether they were willing to rise up and fight for themselves now depended on whether they still had any fire left in their hearts.
"Wait!!" Just as Night turned to leave, Pronius struggled internally before finally calling out to him.
"Who are you, really?" He asked.
Night smiled, then lowered his hood, turned his head, and with a faint smile replied, "Lista. Night. Magnus.
I hope the next time we meet, this name won't become your nightmare (or enemy)."
His eyes, as calm as the surface of a lake, reflected the sunlight with an almost dreamlike quality, impossible to fully grasp, like the sun itself—blinding and unapproachable.
In the refracted light, his gaze seemed to be bathed in golden flames, burning brightly.
...!!!!
Before Night left, he walked away slowly and reminded them with his back turned,
"Oh, and if you really plan on reporting us to the Senate, you might find that the thugs you once drove away will have already rushed to inform the nobles faster than you.
They'll tell the Senate that you, Pronius, along with your brothers, have joined us and are supporting Gracchus to become the new consul of Rome.
Now, do you think those nobles will even listen to your explanation?
Heh—
After all, your men saw with their own eyes the moment you accepted my money.
You're a smart man, Pronius—you know that, compared to those nobles, I'm the one worth trusting."
...
As Pronius and his brothers stood there, their mouths agape, trembling in shock at how someone could use such a shameless yet brilliant strategy, they cursed inwardly.
Damn it—!
They had been careless, and it was greed that had gotten them into trouble!
If anyone really reported them, they'd be stuck in a trap they couldn't escape.
Thinking of the consequences made Pronius' face turn green, especially since he had happily accepted Night's tip of 10 aurei earlier.
That was all evidence now!
No wonder Night was so generous with his money—clearly, it was funding from Gracchus!
But now, they were fully bound to this ship, like it or not.
Was it worth it just to tie their lives to this cause?
Well, Pronius knew now—there was no other path left for them.
Not to mention they had already been swayed.
The ideal Rome they longed for, where the poor would be given land again, seemed almost within reach.
For the first time, a glimmer of hope and anticipation flickered in their hearts.
They didn't blame Night for his little tricks.
Instead, they were relieved—it helped solidify their resolve to finally take that step forward.
"Are we really going to protect this Gracchus?" One of the retired soldiers asked, as the group exchanged glances, each sensing a growing determination in the others.
Pronius took a deep breath:
"Yes, we will help!
Reach out to more of the brothers; we can't be the only ones.
I'm sure many of our old comrades will want to join this 'war.'
We've waited for this day far too long—!
Helping Gracchus is helping ourselves, so why not?"
As Pronius and his men began to prepare for action, the man suddenly muttered to himself, "Lista. Night. Magnus... why does that name sound so familiar?"
With his words, one of the larger men suddenly realized something and, stammered in shock.
"He's 'Rome's Last Hero'—!!
I remember now."
Night—at that time, his full name hadn't been what it was now.
And in that moment, Pronius too remembered.
——!!!
Wait, Pronius' eyes widened.
When that guy had been telling the story of the 39 men earlier, they should have realized!
There's no way someone could tell the story so vividly without having personally experienced or witnessed it!
And in the story of the Ebro River, only two men were known to have survived!
No wonder, no wonder, no wonder—
If it really was him, it made perfect sense that he, a sworn brother of Tiberius Gracchus, would choose to support Gracchus.
A hero like mighty Achilles from Greek mythology, immune to swords and spears—if they had him on their side, the chances of success might actually be quite high.
Realizing this, Pronius and the others were suddenly filled with excitement, grinning ear to ear.
.
.
.
.