Before he became an Imperator he was just like them a simple commoner, no In fact he was even worse off then he started, before he became Imperator he was nothing more than a s*ave.
But did his social status stop him from building and empire and becoming Imperator. NO! IT DID NOT! The Imperator took matters Into his own hands, he rose up, killed his masters and anyone else who didnt want to see him as a free man.
After that he took control of the village he lived In, built his first cohort and began his lifelong conquest. If this wasnt a role model for men, then who else could be?
The citizens prayed, their voices trembling in awe, how could they not? After all during rain of Imperator Alucard Von Death were the Imperiums golden age.
People had more than enough, to eat, they could raise their chins high then dealing with foregeiners.
Because they were spartans and they were f*cking proud of It and If anyone dared to rob, swindle or harm them, they knew that their Imperator would stand In font of them.
The countless historical records of rulers of entire nations getting mounted on a spike just because they swindled spartan people were more than enough proof.
And lets not call about the countless noble and patrician houses that got personally exterminated by the Imperator because they thought they were above the law.
Every man, women and child no matter their background Is equal before the law, even I am not the exception.
These are the words that are Ingraved under the Imperators statue that Is standing proudly In the citys main plaza.
The merchants prepared for war. The nobles feared for their power especially the patrician houses. even to this day the first that the scions of patricians are taught Is to never ever disobey the Imperator.
Disobeying the Emperor was fine, but disobeying the Imperator was completely Intolarable If they did their parents themselves would present their heads to the Imperator and ask him to spare their house.
Imperator Is title taken not given and It Is precisely this reason why there has never been another Imperator, only Emperors.
And at the center of it all. A man who should not exist. A legend made flesh. An actual Imperator returning to claim his rightfull throne. The Praetor inhaled sharply.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke.
"The Imperators Is back"
....
The Imperial Palace of Nova Roma stood as a testament to the power and legacy of the House of Death.
A colossus of white marble and obsidian, its gold plated columns stretched into the heavens, its dome adorned with murals of conquest and d*vine ascension.
Inside the Throne Hall, a sea of aristocrats, senators, military commanders, and merchant lords had gathered.
The air was thick with incense, the golden braziers lining the hall flickering with sacred fire, casting dancing shadows across the opulent chamber.
At the very heart of it all, seated atop the Imperial Throne, was Emperor Augustus Von Death, a man who had ruled for fifty six years a man who had held the Spartanum Ducatum together through war, betrayal, and political treachery.
But now, his age worn hands gripped the golden laurel crown passed down from Imperator himself, his expression solemn as he turned toward the future.
His chosen heir, his eldest grandson, Maximus Von Death, stood before him tall, broad shouldered, and draped in the ceremonial crimson robes of the Imperium.
Beside them, Pythia of the Pantheon held out her hands, ready to receive the laurel crown before placing it upon Maximus' brow.
The entire hall fell silent. A moment of transition. Of power shifting from one ruler to the next. The Emperor's voice, though aged, still carried the weight of undisputed authority.
"If there are any who oppose my decision, then speak now or forever be silent."
His sharp light crimson eyes a unique trait of Von Deaths although greatly diluted at this point swept over the gathered assembly, challenging any dissenters.
No one moved. No one dared. For a single tense breath, it seemed as if the transition would proceed without conflict.
And then the massive bronze doors at the entrance of the throne room that had stood untouched for centuries, carved with battle depictions, legendary heroes, and mythological beasts.
Were sliced open like butter. A deep, metallic groan filled the hall as the doors were shredded apart, massive chunks of reinforced bronze their edges glowing crashing onto the marble floors with a deafening boom.
Gasps of shock and horror erupted from the assembled patricians, nobles, senators, and military leaders.
The stationed Praetorians stationed on the rooms sides immediately reached for their weapons, hands gripping their submachineguns their muscles tensed in sheer disbelief.
Through the gaping entrance, framed by the ruined doors a beast emerged. A massive black Iron Fenrir, its crimson lined iron hide gleaming under the torchlight, its golden eyes radiating sheer dominance, stormed into the hall, its heated to red clawed paws clanking against the polished marble leaving deep gauges.
Its breath came in low, controlled rumbles, each step deliberate, exuding an aura of absolute, unchallenged power.
And atop its mighty form a warrior of blackened armor, draped in the ghosts of war itself.
MC POV
"I HAVE OBJECTIONS."
My voice thundered through the throne hall, carrying with it the weight of a challenge that had not been heard in generations.
I rested my greatsword, The Reaper, lazily on my armored shoulder, my crimson eyes glowing from beneath the skull faced epilate of my Roman helmet.
Lupa's massive form halted at the base of the throne's steps, her presence alone sending nobles reeling back in fear, her alloy plate clad tail whipping against the marble, cracking the stone like glass.
For a long, breathless moment, no one spoke. Shock. Horror. Disbelief. A senator staggered forward, his face contorted in sheer outrage.
"This… this is blasphemy! A disgrace! You dare desecrate the Throne Hall with this display of barbarism?! Guards, seize this..."
He didn't even finish his sentence before Lupa's golden gaze locked onto him, the man went pale, his words dying in his throat, his knees giving out as he collapsed onto the floor in pure, unfiltered terror, then an acrid pudle of liquid spread out underneath him.
Silence followed. The entire court held its breath. And at the top of the steps, the Emperor himself, the unshaken, unyielding Augustus Von Death, slowly rose to his feet.
His aged, battle scarred face held no fear, no anger. Only curiosity. Seeing this I grinned It seems like the third failsafe I prepared for MC aka plot armor was working just fine.
The Throne Hall was silent. Dead silent. The only sound was the steady, ominous clank of my armored boots against Lupas armored ribs as I rode her forward, directly toward the Emperor and my about to be crowned Emperor sibling.
The nobles, senators, and merchants watched in stunned disbelief, some clutching their chests, others gripping their ceremonial daggers and walking sticks like lifelines.
I could see it in their eyes the fear, the confusion, the sheer impossibility of what they were witnessing.
And I? I just laughed beneath my skull faced helmet.
"Hahahahaha…"
The laughter was low, almost a growl, barely audible over the sound of my cohorts marching in perfect synchronization behind me, their contubernium weapons slung over their chests or their backs, their crimson standart banners fluttering like the wings of war itself.
At the top of the Imperial dais, my eldest half brother, Maximus Von Death, had finally recovered from his Initial shock.
And now, like the entitled owergrown brat that he was just as exactly I wrote him to be, he did what he always did when things didn't go his way.
He started screaming.
"YOU BASTARD!"
His voice cracked with anger, his face flushed red, his ceremonial Toga and tunic billowing as he stormed down the steps, shoving aside the stunned high priestess.
"You s*it whoever you are dare interrupt my coronation?! You dare show your face here like some gutter rat dog?!"
He reached for his ceremonial gladius, a blade meant purely for display, barely sharp enough to cut through cloth, let alone armor.
"I'll cut you down myself!"
I rolled my eyes, damm I was really good at writing second rich useless apart from their tongue young masters wasnt I?
"Oh, shut the f*ck up already"
The moment he got within striking distance, I did exactly what the protagonist was supposed to do based on his violent and unstable personality that I created for him.
I kicked him. Hard. My iron clad leather boot slammed into his self righteous spoiled chest, sending him soaring through the air like a ragdoll.
The impact was brutal, the sound of cracking ribs filling the silent throne hall as my dear eldest brother was launched off the dais, flipping head over heels before landing in a crumpled, wheezing heap.