After receiving the allegiance of Caius, Decimus returned his attention to the field.

The slaughter has already went on for a while, and among the hundreds of prisoners, only slightly over one hundred of them were left. Jean was among them. Her kill count has already reached 5. None of her opponents survived two moves.

Maximus’s group was also among the survivors. Only five of them were still alive, including Maximus himself. Team-work really does have its advantage.

At this point, all the survivors have grown more cautious. The soft ones and the reckless ones were already dead.

Decimus suddenly stood up from his comfortable seat. His eyes lingered on Maximus.

Sensing the attention, Maximus grinned in satisfaction. That was what he was waiting for. By doing well in the arena, he has scored a chance to be employed by one of the Roman generals observing the games. This was brilliant. This was his chance to leap from a prisoner to a servant.

He turned back to his men, as well as Jean.

“Your contribution will not be forgotten. When I get out, I will make sure you follow too.”

Jean returned a smile, but deep down, her heart was ice cold. Maximus was optimistic. Too optimistic. Her observers were already in the air, and already they have proven to be worth an entire army. Decimus and Caius thought their conversation was private. Even their private guards and body slaves were sent away during the talk. They had no idea everything that happened between them was recorded by an invisible machine of surveillance in the sky.

Jean learned that the man was a Legatus named Decimus, and with all the information she could ever need, she didn't need to be an emotionless Voyager to know the Legatus meant anything but well for Maximus.

Again, doesn’t matter. She had no interest tied to Maximus.

The Legatus spoke out.

“Men, I congratulate you, for you have earned a chance to live.”

The men cheered. Their eyes filled with the joy of surviving.

“...at least, most of you.” After halting for a few moments and letting the gladiators have a taste of victory, Decimus suddenly poured ice on their parade. The thrill on the men’s eyes froze as a smile climbed onto Decimus’ face. He really enjoyed having the power of making or breaking hundreds of armed men with a few words. So what if you’re a champion in the sand? All I have to do to break you is by raising my voice.

That was the definition of true power.

Suddenly, Decimus pointed at Maximus.

“Bring me his head and all of you will live.”

Maximus’s expression collapsed as his mouth hung open helplessly. Why? Why? Why did Decimus do this? He has just shown Decimus how good he was tactically! The Legatus should be employing him, not ordering his death!

But it was too late. Before the words even settled, four blades found their way into the man’s body. They were from the four “comrades” of Maximus.

Screw loyalty! When freedom comes your way, you don’t say no.

If Jean could laugh, she would. This was a prime example of being so smart you’re screwing yourself over. Maximus’s idea was, well, quite an idea. If he did nothing and survived, he would be no more than a cannon fodder who could be thrown away at the first sign of trouble. So he did his best to organize his fellow prisoners. Keeping him alive was one thing. Showing the audience how talented he was at organizing and how resourceful he was was another. He had quite the ambition.

Except there was one problem Maximus failed to consider. Cannon fodder was the only thing the Roman Legatus needed. Why the hell would he need a tactician? No matter how talented or observant you are, you can never surpass the skill of experienced Roman officers who have been training in the art of war since they were children. More importantly, why would the Legatus trust a slave and a coward over loyal officers?

Adding gasoline to the fire, the Legatus treated the gladiators as slaves, and Maximus was trying to manipulate him. There was no way he would let someone like that live.

She turned her eyes back to the arena. She was sure that when the gladiators fought and died, the cloud in the air solidified. It was still too weak for her to absorb and use, but it was enough to give her a hint.

The souls that made up the cloud of death perished in battle. That was how they were so tied to the scent of death. Even in their combined form, battle was the only thing that could excite them enough to make them available to Jean’s reach.

And it had to be a battle more intense than this one. A fight between hundreds wouldn’t be enough. She needed a clash between thousands at least.

On the platform, Legatus Decimus grinned as one of the gladiators beheaded his former leader and rose his trophy into the air for the world to see.

The crowd screamed in excitement. They didn't care who Maximus was or what he did. All they wanted was the blood and the death.

“Now, rejoice, slaves, for you have became a slave of Legatus Decimus!“

He turned around and glanced at a servant.

“Who were the best fighters in the group? Bring the top ten gladiators to my residence. I want to show them the benefits of serving me.”

Decimus wanted to upgrade these men, but the process would be extremely painful. The weak-minded would never survive the process. That was why he was going through all the trouble to look after gladiators and didn't use his own men. Professional soldiers were obviously more disciplined, but in terms of brutality and endurance, they were hardly better than gladiators who survived based on sheer brutality and endurance.

But in that case, loyalty became a problem, which was why Decimus wanted to talk to those most likely to survive the Aggressor upgrades right now. He wanted to learn more about them and find out what makes them tick. Money. Women. Power. This was his best way of controlling them.

“As you wish, Legatus.”

Jean and other nine gladiators who have performed well in the arena were taken to a mansion. Their hands were bind together. They finally reached a stop in a room, where double their numbers of elite Roman guards stood around cautiously.

Sitting at the end of the room was a large Roman man in light armor. Jean recognized him to be Legatus Decimus.

“Allow me to introduce myself.”

Jean listened as Decimus gave his speech. It was hardly the best one she has seen. Decimus simply stated who he was and demanded the loyalty of all the gladiators in exchange for promises of wealth and women. All nine other gladiators quickly bent their knees. They didn't live through that slaughter just so they could be executed by the guards.

Jean didn't kneel.

Decimus’s eyes were trained on Jean. A look of dissatisfaction was in his eyes. Sensing his anger, the guards in the room drew their blades. The sound of weapons leaving their sheath was enough to make any man think twice about their life choice.

“My lord.” Jean eyed Decimus, unfazed. She slowly glanced around and refused to continue.

Decimus realized what Jean was gesturing at. She had something important to tell him. Something that the common guards and the other gladiators shouldn’t hear about. Yet he didn't move. He would not be ordered around by a slave, no matter how talented he was with the sword.

Jean rose her bound hands.

“My lord, I am with neither a weapon nor an armor. My hands are restrained. You are armed, armored, and able to chop off my head with a single strike. I am not a threat. I truly have something important to tell you.”

“A likely thing to say for assassins.” Decimus smirked, but he finally made a decision. He wanted to hear what Jean had to say. If it was good, fine. If it wasn’t, well, he would need to make a choice between beheading and crucifixion.

“Bring the other slaves to the dungeons.”

The nine gladiators were led away by one of the guards, but the rest of the security remained. Jean saw at least twenty men in the room.

Decimus’s face was ice cold.

“These are my most trusted men. If you have something to say to me, you can say to them.”

Jean glanced at the guards again. Some of them had their hands on the handle of their swords while others crossed their arms. All of them had a proud look on their face. They had quite the confidence.

She finally nodded.

“How unfortunate.”

The next moment, black energy appeared out of nowhere and devoured every single guard in the room. Jean didn't try to strip out their souls or turn them against each other. She went in for the kill, using the Power of Death to completely exterminate their physical bodies.

As the personal guards of a top warlord, the Romans here were the best of the Empire. Calling them bad at their jobs would be absurd. Yet Jean’s enemies in this world were never individual Romans. It has always been full-scale Roman legions, fleets of weapons of war, and the Aggressors.

Thankfully for Miss Turner, the Aggressors were constantly on the move. If they stayed in a world for too long, they would be screwed when the Protectors come. The best thing they could do would be to go to a world, provide some support and initiate an invasion, and then move on. They could only be contacted and summoned by a few trusted individuals in those worlds.

Jean was worried that if she invaded with an army, the said individuals would have the time to call for help, but using her powers discreetly would likely be fine. This way, when the Emperor or someone realizes what was going on was more than a casual conflict of power between warlords, it would be too late.

Decimus was one of those people who could call the Aggressors, but that required a special tool of communication, and right now, the man couldn’t even lift a finger. Distinctly, he could see his most trusted minions being reduced to nothingness. He could see the chains around the gladiator’s hands dissolving like it was just tossed into flaming lava. But when he tried to call for help, he couldn’t produce a word. It was...it was as if his mind was no longer controlling his body.

Jean stepped forward and quietly set her hands on Decimus’s neck. The next second, the Roman warlord’s faint soul was sucked into Jean’s reach.

Any resistance was futile. Jean mercilessly tore open the soul of the man who, as of moments ago, had her eyes set on the throne of the empire. She ravaged through every detail of the man’s life. After all, she wanted to replace Decimus.

Decimus was a much better identity to take up than the Roman gladiator named Tiberius. He had armies and political support. More importantly, he had ties to the Aggressors.

Jean’s eyes were closed as she processed the information she just received.

Even after being pushed out of dimension HR012, Decimus had 40,000 men under him. 35,000 legionnaires and 5,000 Equites. His territory included hundreds of cities. That made him one of the most powerful warlords in the Roman Empire.

He also had a network of allies, one of whom was Legatus Caius. This added another 35,000 men to her potential control.

With a single move and a few days of strategizing, Jean has got further than she ever could in the same period of time if she chose to kill her way into this world. Now, she could literally lead her enemies into battle against her other enemies.

Decimus’s knees hit the ground, but that was the furthest it went. Jean quietly transferred her soul outside of the gladiator’s skin and into that of Decimus. As soon as her soul departed, her original body was no longer protected by the Power of Death. It corroded at an astonishing rate.

Jean melted the body before the smell of a corpse could fill the room.

The only person left in the room, Legatus Decimus, stood back up, except he was no longer the man he was ten minutes ago.

Jean reached inside her pocket and pulled out the veil given to him by the Aggressors. Blue liquid shined in the transparent glass container.

The blue liquid was a type of enhancement serum. From what Decimus saw, it could make a man ten times stronger, eight times faster, and possess rapid regeneration skills.

There was a price. There was always a price. The transformation would be painful, and even if the users survived the process, their life expectancy would be down to a handful of years.

This confirmed another one of Jean’s hypothesis. The Aggressors were behind the Protectors in terms of technology. Let’s just compare upgrades for cannon fodders. The Protectors could arm the Voyagers in ways that had next to no repercussion. Do you have the coins? You can buy your way to strength. Death? Only a few years to live? That was nonexistent.

Jean’s Reapress upgrade was an exception.

The Aggressors, on the other hand, could only give their minions serums that would cripple them.

So how did the hell are the Aggressors winning?

Jean got all of Decimus’s memories, so she also heard Caius’s suspicious. She had to admit the Legatus might be the smartest person she has seen in this world. Based on bits and pieces of information, Caius might have deduced his way to the steps of the true essence behind this war.

She quietly put the veils away. She had no need for them herself. The Power of Death would automatically irradicate anything in her body. Plus, even if she ingested all the veils, she would only have a CAS in the hundreds. Right now, her Power of Death granted her a CAS of 880. She had no need for those serums.,,at least not now.

When all the sides were covered, Jean finally clapped her hands. Two maids walked in.

“My lord?”

Jean knew exactly what Legatus Decimus would do in circumstances like this.

“Ready my horses and inform the guards. I have important matters to discuss with Legatus Caius...in regard to the arena.”