For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion

The town of Habersville was quiet—much quieter than usual for this time of morning. Not that it was ever a particularly rowdy or loud place. Quite the opposite. Still, even the friendly calls of neighbors to one another or the bustle of shopkeepers hawking their wares seemed particularly subdued.

Quintus strode through the streets, his steps clattering against the newly paved roads as he made his way to the center of town. His gaze swept across the patchwork of buildings, the new sturdy constructions of the Legion standing out in fresh relief to the older and more varied buildings that characterized the old Habersville. People went about their days, their numbers much reduced as they went to observe the massing of the Legion.

He found himself a little put off by the village's stillness. It wasn't that no one was out and about—they certainly were, albeit few. But even they weren't talking as much as they normally did. Quintus could also feel a lot more gazes on him than he was used to. The commotion last night and the funeral in the early morning hadn't been given any official explanation—at least, not yet. Whether they ever would make an announcement of any sort was up to Tiberius to decide. But clearly, the town knew that something was happening. Something big. And that, it seemed, was enough to put them on edge.

Quintus couldn't blame them entirely. After all, there had been a great deal of changes happening around here—for them and the Legion both. It would take years for them to become accustomed to the Roman way of life, perhaps even a generation. Even if they did prove particularly adaptable, however, he still suspected that the sight of the Legionnaires mustering would prove rather alarming. Even true Romans who were used to seeing the soldiers knew that such a thing was typically cause for concern or unease.

He continued onward, ignoring the surreptitious glances sent his way. Such an occurrence was hardly new to him, even if it was a bit out of the ordinary here. He was used to having to quell the local populace whenever they marched on a new settlement like this. Yet compared to the norm, these villagers had proven rather docile and downtrodden. Whoever had ruled them before had not been a kind master, it seemed, and they had put up practically no resistance to the change in leadership.

Of course, there were always rebels. Those who would break rules, commit crimes, or simply push the boundaries to see what they could get away with. But dealing with that wasn't something he was personally in charge of. From what he hadheard, though, even those rogue elements had taken little effort to put in their place.

The segmented plates of his armor clattered softly against each other as he stepped into the town square. A rough-hewn monolith of dark rock protruded from the grass at its center, its surface shimmering slightly with ripples of blue and gold. The class stone.

Quintus stepped toward the rugged stone. It wouldn't be long before his cohort moved out—one of the reasons he was in full armor. But before they did, he'd wanted to take a moment to step away and into the town. In part it was to ensure that no last minute matters needed tending to here. But the other reason was the more compelling one.

His hand reached forward to touch the glassy surface of the class stone. A wave of golden light rose up its length, then burst into motes that swirled into his palm and down his arm. Compared to the Legion's first activation of the thing, this display was far more tame and standard. Yet it still was quite the sight to behold.

If he were ever questioned, his official reason would be that he was evaluating the progress of the Legion towards its next level. That achievement would undoubtedly end up being an noteworthy event. But privately he knew it was mostly an excuse.

Glowing golden text filled his vision. Quintus almost smiled as he scanned over the numbers that arrayed themselves before him. He allowed the System to display both its preferred numerals and the superior Roman ones, though he stuck to reading what he was used to.

Information:

Name: Quintus Carius Libo

Age: 43 (XLIII)

Class: Legionnaire – Primus Pilus (Legendary)

Level: 1 (I)

Experience: 484,724 / 600,000 (CDLXXXIVDCCXXIV/ D̅C̅)

Stats:

Strength: 13 (XIII)

Dexterity: 12 (XII)

Constitution: 11 (XI)

Charisma: 11 (XI)

Wisdom: 9 (IX)

Intelligence: 9 (IX)

Titles:

Born to Fight

Bonds of Brotherhood

Bane of Cats (II)

Bane of Spiders (II)

Boss Slayer (I)

Titanslayer

Industrious Craftsman (I)

Industrious Architect (I)

Blood On Your Hands

Skills:

[Swordsmanship] (Uncommon) - Lvl 34 (Individual)

[Voice of Command] (Uncommon) - Lvl 19 (Individual)

[Battlefield Intuition] (Uncommon) - Lvl 16 (Individual)

[Sure Footing] (Common) - Lvl 41 (Individual)

[Heavy Blow] (Uncommon) - Lvl 7 (Individual)

[Marching] (Common) - Lvl 67 (Legion)

[Shield Wall] (Uncommon) - Lvl 41 (Legion)

[Unity] (Rare) - Lvl 2 (Cohort)

[Stab] (Common) - Lvl 88 (Century)

[Group Tactics] (Uncommon) - Lvl 12 (Contubernium)

The Legion had been making good progress. They'd kept busy enough during their time here that they were close to reaching level two. Of course, Quintus wasn't entirely sure how long such a feat usually took—in fact, he suspected they might actually be a little behind what the norm was for this world. Gaius had his suspicions and theories about a shared experience pool for the Legion, though they'd been ordered to keep silent about it until further notice. But he looked forward to the achievement regardless.

If the young officer was right, though, the idea had a variety of implications. It would mean that they were essentially doing work equivalent to leveling six thousand individuals to level two before seeing any benefits. If that trend continued into the future, their progress would continue to be slower than if they could fight and level individually—especially when many were busy with other tasks that didn't involve actively patrolling. There were only so many monsters to fight, anyway.

Despite the apparent strangeness of their situation, Quintus remained confident in the Legion's abilities. Being at a level disadvantage hadn't proved an insurmountable obstacle thus far. So long as they continued training and adapting to this world's threats, he saw no reason why that wouldn't continue to be the case. Still, he wouldn't take that as an excuse to slack on levels. There was always the possibility that something new would prove him wrong. Besides, it never hurt to become even stronger.

He also noticed that he had gained a few more titles. The titles provided boosts that often served to increase their stats, though such increases weren't directly reflected in the status sheet. That was something left to him to calculate, and he had long since run out of fingers and toes to count the exact bonuses. He usually left it to one of the officers to calculate what the percentage increases added up to in terms of effective stats.

There appeared to be a few new crafting-related titles since last time. They were rather basic—only increasing their stats by a small percent and improving the odds of producing higher-quality items. Still, if the entire Legion had received them, that was a notable advantage. Quintus himself wasn't about to pick a crafting skill anytime soon, but it would be a boon to those who had.

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The last one sounded more ominous. [Blood On Your Hands] didn't sound like exactly the kind of title one would boast about. However, the 10% increase in all stats when fighting other humans was certainly welcome.

After checking on experience and titles, Quintus's eyes immediately jumped to his skills. He had to will himself to stillness in order to prevent a smile from breaking through.

[You have new skill evolutions available. View available evolutions? WARNING: After viewing, unassigned evolutions will be permanently lost!]

It had been a few days since this particular prompt had appeared. After the first week or so of the Legion's presence here, they'd managed to collect what felt like an unreasonable number and variety of skills through the efforts of all their men. Not all of them were in use, of course—nowhere near all of them—but having the options was nice.

Still, this looked a little different from the usual prompt. He wasn't entirely sure what a "skill evolution" was. Quintus considered waiting to investigate, but couldn't stifle his curiosity. Besides, they were about to march. Who knew when his next opportunity to look into this would be?

With a thought, he accepted the prompt. The text before him shimmered and changed.

Available Skill Evolutions:

[Swordsmanship] (Uncommon) -> [Sword Mastery] (Rare)

Quintus blinked. That was unexpected. Evidently, he'd either used or leveled his [Swordsmanship] skill enough to warrant some sort of upgrade—and a rare one at that. Despite all their skills, the Legion had only collected a handful with that designation.

Not seeing any reason to refuse, he quickly accepted the new skill.

[Congratulations! You have assigned the skill [Sword Mastery] (Rare) - Lvl 0.]

Curious, Quintus unsheathed his gladius and gave it a few test swings. The movements felt good. Smooth. Before, it felt as though his technique itself was being guided by an unseen hand. But now? It was different. It almost felt as though his will extended through the blade itself.

After a few more swings, Quintus concluded that the skill had certainly changed. Whatever it was doing, it didn't feel like a simple upgrade compared to his old one, though perhaps that was due to the fact that its level had reset. But given what they knew, that just meant that it had more room to grow.

Quintus's eyes flashed as he finally allowed himself a small smile. His efforts and training with the sword had been rewarded. That alone was satisfying enough. But now that he'd unlocked [Sword Mastery], that meant that any of the other men would now be able to follow suit and assign it as well. At least, if it behaved like the other skills they'd seen, which was entirely likely. Given how massively skills had impacted their fighting abilities so far, this was an incredible boon. So much so that it might be worth delaying their departure for a few hours to have other men make the upgrade.

After considering the matter further, however, he decided against the recommendation. Having an army full of swordmasters would obviously be a huge boon, especially considering the fact that they were headed into conflict. However, assigning the new skill to so many on such short notice would be rash. Besides, he wanted to ensure that any man who did take it was prepared and had a firm grasp on the fundamentals already. The last thing he wanted was his men relying too heavily on their skills—just like those incompetent adventurers. No, any man who wanted to select this skill would need to prove that he'd earned it—though perhaps they could set the bar a bit below Quintus's own abilities.

At least, that's what he would recommend. He would obviously report the development and see what Tiberius and the other officers thought first.

After that exciting development, Quintus finally took a look at his skill levels. While he and the Legion may have been lagging behind in levels, their skills certainly weren't. Everything had leveled up. The uncommon skills had risen a decent amount—mostly around ten levels on average, he estimated. The common ones had seen even more growth, bringing them to what felt like ridiculous levels. And that was before the campaign had even started. By the time they returned, he expected [Marching] to rocket even higher. Perhaps it would be enough to earn an evolution for it, too.

Quintus quickly noted down all of the information for Gaius. As he turned away from the class stone, he lifted his helmet and placed it atop his head to hide his growing smile. Becoming stronger felt good.

Checking the sun, it was steadily climbing toward its zenith in the sky. He would need to move a little quicker than he would have liked to return to camp on time. He found most of the centuries already prepared to move while his own centurions had gotten the first cohort prepared. He fell in, did a final walkthrough of his men, then checked the others—just in time for Tiberius to exit his tent and order the march.

Quintus felt his [Marching] skill take effect as they began to move. The hard ground beneath his feet gave ever so slightly, seeming to cushion his knees with each step. Even with his well-made caligae, a long day of marching would normally make his feet ache. But with the skill active, it felt as comfortable as a casual stroll. If he was lucky, he might be able to go for several days before he even started to see a blister. Depending on how the skill held up, of course.

The pace they kept was a bit slower than what Quintus could manage at his best. He knew they were limited by their slowest soldiers—those with lower levels of [Marching]. It seemed that skills, even shared ones, leveled for each soldier individually. Which meant that those who hadn't been exercising it would be feeling this trek quite a bit more than he would. Namely, the officers.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he saw Tiberius and the other commanders marching right alongside their men. It had been a long time since he'd seen any of them doing such a thing. And while Tiberius had clearly kept enough of his conditioning to set a good example, some of the other men weren't quite so fortunate. He was certain that, after this campaign, finding horses would become a top priority.

***

The entire town had turned out to watch as a massive chunk of the Legion marched away. Eleonora couldn't blame them. The sight of several thousand men marching in perfect lockstep was something else. She'd only seen anything like it a few times as a child, when armies passed by her hometown—and those soldiers had numbered only in the hundreds, not thousands. Forces this size were practically unheard of among humans. Why field a massive army when a smaller force of high-leveled individuals would suffice just as well?

But these Legionnaires… well, they were making everyone question that.

She felt someone grab her arm as the Legion started to disappear into the trees. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jack pulling both her and Rudolf away from the spectacle and back toward Habersville.

"Come on," he said. "Hurry. While no one's paying attention."

"What?" she hissed back at him, gaze darting about. While the townsfolk were mostly focused on the departing army, she suspected that the remaining Legionnaires wouldn't be. Which wasn't a problem unless they were doing something suspicious.

"Come on," Jack repeated insistently. He refused to elaborate further, pulling his party members into the village. They ducked into an alleyway and began weaving their way between streets. "This is our chance, guys. We finally have an opening."

"Our chance to what?" Eleonora whispered back.

Jack's eyes glinted with determination. "Our chance to escape. To finally get out of this backwater."

"What?" Eleonora hissed. "Jack, what the hell are you talking about? You do realize there's still thousands of them here, right? How the hell is that an opening?"

"It's less than it was," he responded, undeterred. "It's as good of a chance as we'll get."

"To what, run? If we're supposed to be running, then why are you dragging us back into town?"

Her party leader snorted. "Because it won't be that easy. Obviously. I'm not an idiot."

Eleonora bit her tongue, waiting for him to explain. Jack peeked around a corner, then turned back to her and Rudolf. "We can't just run. But we can do something else. We can take back the town."

She blinked. "What?"

"It won't just be us, obviously. Some of the old guards have been talking to the mayor and some of the other influential townspeople. They think they can make something happen. I got a note slipped to me the other night explaining where we could go and find out more. And now, with so much of the Legion gone, I'm positive they're gonna make a move soon."

Eleonora didn't say anything for a long moment, processing what she'd just heard. Jack just looked at them expectantly, as though waiting for their enthusiastic agreement. A glance over at Rudolf revealed that he was just as confused as she was.

"What the hell, Jack?"

He frowned slightly, apparently not having expected any pushback. "What do you mean?"

"You can't be serious about this."

"Of course I'm serious. Now come on. We've gotta hurry."

He turned around to keep leading them onward, but Eleonora didn't budge. "No! No way. Running would be bad enough, but you actually want to fight these guys?! Are you fucking serious? You've seen what they can do! The spiders, the roaming boss—even you already lost to them once, remember?"

His expression darkened. "That was different. I didn't have my sword. And besides, I was still recovering from the spider venom, too, and—"

"I don't care if you had just woken up in the best shape of your life—this is suicide, Jack!"

Jack actually had the gall to roll his eyes. "Not if we're smart about it. I'm sure the nobility aren't exactly going to be happy about this when they find out, so they'll definitely be on the mayor's side. He's already working on getting people out here to help. And I'd be surprised if the baron isn't doing the same thing. We just need to make sure they have support—"

She couldn't help but gape. Had he learned nothing at all from all of this? It wasn't just that the Legion was strong—something that couldn't be denied, especially after that roaming boss fight. It wasn't even that they technically owed the men their lives twice over. No, it was more that stabbing these people in the back seemed like a terrible idea. She didn't exactly enjoy being watched with suspicion and condescension, of course, but actively antagonizing them?

"Jack, listen to what you're saying." She pleaded. "This is crazy. Who could they send? An army? A group of high-level adventurers? They'd need at least that much to deal with these guys! And if they fail…"

Jack shushed her, glancing around to make sure they hadn't been overheard. "Stop being so dramatic, Eleonora. This is something we need to do. Now, come on already."

He stepped toward her, grabbing her wrist. She tried to pull away, but his strength stat was much higher than hers and he knew it. The [Fighter] began pulling her along, ignoring her struggles and attempts to break free. Rudolf followed after, not meeting either of their eyes.

A dawning sense of horror filled her. She knew exactly what was happening. Jack was going to do this. He'd decided this was the best path, and his damn stubbornness wouldn't allow him to see otherwise. It didn't matter if he was far more likely to get himself killed than anything else. Just like in the forest, he had a mission and that meant nothing could happen to him. He wanted to be the hero that took down the Legion.

And unless she did something, she'd be getting dragged down with him.