Ch.3333. Legion of Avengers

Like most nobles and wealthy individuals in the Roman Empire, Gracchus also maintains his own private soldiers.

Approximately 200 private soldiers, composed of retired legionnaires captivated by his character.

Unlike most private armies with sinister intentions, these soldiers were merely a means to protect Gracchus and his business operations.

However, after Gracchus established the Order of Vengeance.

The private soldiers who naturally became part of the Order began calling themselves the Avenger Legion and grew rapidly.

They accepted new recruits united by vengeful determination to bring down the Roman Empire, and all received the blessing of Ma-Duk, the “God of Vengeance and Blood,” allowing them to maintain their youth until the empire falls.

The blessings bestowed upon all of them weren’t simply about preventing aging; notably, there are blessings that ensure their vengeful spirit never fades and blessings that enhance physical abilities proportional to the intensity of their vengeance.

Through my delicate blessing calibration work, I applied blessings with maximum synergy, granting them power beyond what they could normally withstand.

This was the basic result of what every soldier of the Avenger Legion received upon joining.

Even those who were weak or disabled before receiving the blessing, if their willpower and thirst for vengeance were acknowledged and they joined the legion, would instantly gain the body of a robust warrior standing 2 meters and 20 centimeters tall.

These legion trainees, reborn as excellent men, are rigorously trained by Angels of Vengeance and Blood Warriors summoned to serve as instructors,

and those who complete all procedures are regarded as prospective Blood Warriors.

Naturally, the weapons issued to warriors who have passed through this entire process are not ordinary, as they are capable of facing the Roman Empire’s most elite soldiers.

In the heart of the catacombs, the underground church, there is a hydraulic—or rather, hemodynamic—forge powered by the divine artifact I bestowed: a golden chalice from which infinite blood flows. This forge produces special weapons and armor using blood instead of water or oil.

While the raw materials are ordinary iron ore, the metal turns red during the tempering process that uses blood.

My recently ordained priest consecrates the weapons and armor made from this reddened metal, engraving them with sacred characters and verses from scripture.

Only after my seal (a cross with a skull in the center) is stamped on the completed equipment is it issued to a legionnaire who has passed training, and the process is finally complete when decorations indicating their rank within the legion are attached.

The legionnaire is completely reborn as a human weapon that deserves to be called a top-tier infantry soldier in the same weight class.

Currently, there are about 600 recruits and former private soldiers at the trainee level, and approximately 400 who have passed the tests to become legionnaires.

Together they number about 1,000, so there are no specialized branches or ranks yet.

But in the future, they will be deployed to the most difficult battlefields to fight with the resolve to die, so once their numbers exceed 500….

I plan to begin preliminary skirmishes against the pantheon.

While a full-scale war might be difficult, causing discord and carrying out terrorist acts in the Roman Empire should be entirely possible.

※ ※ ※

In the mountain range about 20km from the capital of the Roman Empire, there exists what could be called an industrial city—smaller than the capital but considered a major city by this era’s standards.

In this city, where Vulcanus, the god of blacksmiths, handicrafts, and creation, reigns as the guardian deity, dwarf slaves captured from the northern kingdoms and various cheap labor are used to meet all the Roman Empire’s military equipment needs.

This is possible because the city is simultaneously a mining city and the Roman Empire’s best source of iron ore.

Slaves captured from all directions are worked as mining slaves, and dwarves—who are naturally gifted with the talent to create tanks from the Second World War era in medieval forges—are enslaved and have their labor exploited, all enhanced by Vulcanus’s blessing.

Because of this, in this city alone, metal golems serve as guards, and primitive cranes or giant golems are commonly used as heavy equipment, displaying overtechnology.

Even in city defense, they showcase their military might with golems carrying ballistae or human-sized small golems, demonstrating the dignity befitting one of the Roman Empire’s most important strongholds.

…However, behind this prosperity lies the exploitation of captured dwarf slaves.

To put it extremely, without dwarf slaves, golems could neither be created nor repaired.

Thus, the slaves are treated even more harshly, and just as these dwarf slaves were beginning to despair over their increasingly terrible treatment—

One day, Grumhill, a rune smith who was one of only ten such specialists and thus less exploited than other slaves, was briefly resting in the dwarf slaves’ quarters when

he suddenly burst out of his room with a face full of joy and gathered his companions.

“Hey! Everyone gather around!”

In dwarf society, where seniority is particularly important, the other dwarves were puzzled by the joy shown by Grumhill, the oldest (241 years) and the pillar of strength among the slaves.

Once all the dwarves had gathered, Grumhill spoke with a voice that couldn’t hide his excitement and joy:

“In a dream, the God of Vengeance himself came to me! Haven’t you all heard the rumors about the murders being committed by followers of the God of Vengeance in the capital?”

“Indeed…”

“…Even that supervisor, who looks like his mother slept with a troll, was saying something about a slum being devastated by some pagan god.”

Everyone was aware that various disturbances were breaking out almost daily in the capital of the Roman Empire, having gathered this information from overheard conversations of slave supervisors and workers, so they knew his words weren’t entirely false.

However… there was one critical problem.

“Elder, we’re dwarves.”

Yes, they are dwarves.

Dwarves are famous for excessively valuing tradition and worshipping only the Dwarf Pantheon—their great ancient ancestors who ascended to godhood—to the extent that no other deity even attempts to convert them.

From a meta perspective, this reflects the setting that no randomly generated dwarf NPC can worship any deity outside the Dwarf Pantheon…

The important point is that dwarves worshipping gods other than the Dwarf Pantheon is as contrary to common sense as “a competent Won Gyun.”

Therefore, as other dwarves who had deeply ingrained notions that other gods would never take interest in them expressed disbelief in his words,

Grumhill, seemingly quite frustrated, pounded his chest with his fist and continued:

“I know my words defy common sense, but this is the truth! I can swear on my beard!”

“…Your beard?”

“Well, if that’s the case…”

Since he was swearing on his beard—something almost sacred to dwarves—it was clear he wasn’t completely lying.

However, the story was so implausible that a certain hypothesis formed in their minds:

‘…The old man has finally lost his mind and gone senile!’

Dementia, or senility—a fatal disease that even dwarves cannot escape—was a quite convincing hypothesis for them: that he had seen an illusion in his dream and believed it to be real.

While there was a possibility of magical creatures playing tricks, it was ruled out because dwarves are born with strong magical resistance, especially Grumhill, whose resistance had grown even stronger with age.

“Hey, you fools! I’m still sharp as ever!”

Of course, Grumhill hadn’t lived all those years in vain and could sense the atmosphere of being regarded as a senile old man,

so he struck the head of a poor dwarf standing right next to him with his staff and shouted loudly:

“Anyway, He told me He would send an army to save us! So let’s hold on a little longer!”

Naturally, no dwarf was naive enough to believe this at face value, but nevertheless, some dwarves secretly wished it to be true.

‘…If you are listening, please… save us.’

Though they didn’t even know how to pray properly, some dwarves offered prayers with sincere and desperate hearts, and the very next day.

They received salvation in a way they never could have anticipated.