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

"[Piercing Shot]!"

An arrow streaked through the forest clearing, striking the shadow panther's murky form in the hind leg. It growled threateningly at the willowy archer who'd shot it before quickly darting back out of range of the sword-wielding fighter that charged towards it. To one side, the group's healing witch gathered some kind of strange glow between her hands in preparation for her own attack.

Quintus wasn't exactly resentful of having to play babysitter for three young "adventurers." No, he would never feel resentful about that sort of thing. It was part of the Legion's job to keep those under its protection safe, and so he would do so without complaint. It was just galling that the bard had somehow managed to finagle a situation like this under everyone's noses.

How he had known about the interrogation, Quintus had no idea. He had been kept in the dark about most matters related to the adventurers for good reason. Of course, that exclusion hadn't been an explicit matter, so perhaps Tiberius had decided to change tactics after they'd gotten enough information out of the trio. Still, no one had told Quintus. If they had, he would have at least pushed back. He didn't want the bard anywhere near these adventurers until they had gotten a chance to independently confirm the information they provided.

Despite all that, however, Quintus had to admit it wasn't the worst arrangement. Some begrudging part of him recognized the reason in the bard's logic. Learning how people born and raised in a world with this "System" fought would be incredibly useful. Having some inkling of their capabilities before facing them in combat may well prove invaluable.

At least he didn't have to deal with the Bard directly. That was the job of an officer—like the one he was currently babysitting alongside the three adventurers.

Quintus glanced over at Gaius as the walked. The young officer ducked beneath some low tree branches, neglecting to consider the height of his plume as he did. The result was a rather comical look of panic as he had to reflexively clutch at his helmet to keep it on his head.

The boy—the man, he corrected himself, as it was a bad idea to call a superior a boy—the young man certainly showed promise. Despite the slightly uncomfortable motions Gaius was making in his armor, he was still leagues better than it had been when they'd first left Rome all those months ago. That, at least, was heartening. No man would survive long in the Legion without being able to adapt. And every once in a while, he would catch glimmers of the competence that Tiberius seemed to recognize in him. However, it would require seasoning. Lots and lots of seasoning.

Regardless of the officer's inexperience, however, one fact remained. He would have bet on him over any one of these adventurers in a heartbeat.

The shadow panther slashed forward with a paw. Its chest heaved with labored breaths as the numerous cuts and lacerations across its hide began to take their toll. Yet it wasn't the only one. The trio fighting it were also beginning to show signs of slowing down, though the healer had more or less closed up the worst of their wounds thus far.

All around them, Quintus's contubernium continued to keep watch and ward off additional monsters from joining the fray. They'd been at this for a while now, allowing a few monsters at a time to get close enough for the adventurers to train—and hunt. Still, the process of watching them take on the threats made Quintus practically tap his foot in impatience.

After another moment, he paused and leaned over to Gaius, speaking softly so that no one would overhear.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

The young officer nodded. "I think so. They…" he paused, as if considering how to phrase things diplomatically. "They haven't had any formal training, have they?"

Quintus snorted. "That's one way to put it, I was going to say they're incompetent."

Gaius grimaced. "Yes. That too."

The Primus Pilus suppressed a snort of laughter at his companion's pained expression. Watching the adventurers was an exceedingly strange experience. Their motions weren't the rigid, practiced motions of a soldier fighting, which made sense. However, they also lacked the grace and style of a gladiator's one-on-one combat style. If anything, they rather looked like children who were playing at combat, capable of little more than imitating the motions they'd seen even in the midst of battle. They hardly even worked as a team, despite having three of them with vastly different specialties. It was every man for himself—or woman, in the case of the healer that they bizarrely allowed to fight alongside them.

They also had the annoying habit of shouting out the names of their skills before using them. This, in addition to being one of the dumbest battle tactics Quintus had ever seen, also had the secondary side effect of revealing just how little said skills did to improve their performance. A [Heavy Blow] from Jack didn't suddenly fix all of his balance, footing, and leverage issues. It improved many of them, certainly, and as such the skill yielded a better end result. But only for a single swing. After a handful of steps, he'd snap right back to the clumsy, ill-balanced trotting that would make him as easy to knock over as a teetering pile of river stones.

"Is this really the power of skills?" Gaius muttered. "That such untrained, undisciplined people can be turned into moderately competent combatants?"

"It's a weakness." Quintus countered. "It takes all of the fundamentals that they should be focusing on—their balance, their stance, how to grip a weapon—and ensures that they don't need to learn them. They simply rely on a relevant skill like a crutch." He raised a finger to point at Jack. "Look at the brawny one holding his sword like it's a simple club. One solid hit would fling it from his grasp. Only when he starts an attack does his grip shift and lighten to the point where the blade is actually flexible and quick enough to use."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Gaius nodded in agreement. "Fair point. And given what we've been told about the costs associated with using skills…"

The Primus Pilus glanced over. "You've mentioned this. Have you made any headway into investigating it?"

Gaius shrugged a shoulder. "We've had quite a bit of trouble identifying the exact effects. Most people report feeling exhausted after heavy skill use, but it doesn't seem to be consistent with our men. Only when a group of isolated soldiers all use skills together can we eventually observe such a thing."

"Hmm," Quintus muttered as they kept watching. "Regardless, seeing them fight is useful. I am not so naive to assume that all soldiers in this world are so similar. But if this is a prevailing mentality…"

Gaius tapped his lips. "I'd be careful to make any assumptions. Underestimating them could prove lethal. It only takes half a second of competence for a man to die."

"True," Quintus grunted. "But in drawn-out combat, it would be easy to find an opening against such an opponent."

"Not if they're strong enough to simply smash through your guard. That is what worries me most." Gaius paused. "You recall how each person has different stat values, yes? Some of the testing we've done shows quite significant differences depending on those numbers. A man with thirteen strength has a significant advantage over one with eight. And if what we've been told is true, there will be people who have stats three or four times higher than that, even in the first twenty levels. They might be able to break your sword with a single swing."

Quintus grunted. That was a scary thought. Perhaps he was being a little too overconfident. Despite how much they'd learned, the ways of this world were still largely unfamiliar to them. Assuming that he understood more than he really did would be a surefire path to unpleasant surprises.

He watched as the archer lined up and released his shot, the arrow sailing through the trees with more accuracy than seemed warranted. Afterward, the lanky man slumped, nearly tripping over a root as he tried to reposition for another shot at the panther that their warrior was fighting. His path took him away from a far superior patch of cover in favor of a clearer line of sight.

It took a few more minutes of gruelling battle for the group to finally finish off the panther. It gave a pained yowl as the fighter opened one last wound in the limping beast's side, then fell to the ground lifelessly.

"How much more do you think we can realistically learn from them?" Quintus asked as they cheered half-heartedly and congratulated each other. The rest of the contubernium looked on, still keeping watch over their surroundings.

"I could use some more observation," Gaius said, "But not more than another one or two trips out with them. After that… we will see."

***

Eleanora was not happy. She had been happy at the whole "not dying" thing, of course. Being able to see the sky again felt like a miracle, even if she'd been covered in spiderwebs and wounds at the time. She had been certain that every god of death she had ever heard of was either breathing down their necks or actively in the process of claiming their souls as they lay helpless in those cocoons. And yet, despite being cradled in the very bosom of death, they'd survived. Some random group of strangers in this backwater had managed to not only find them, but save them.

But everything after that point had just gone progressively more downhill.

She somehow expected the near-death experience to change things, to alter her party's outlooks or behaviors in some deep way. It certainly felt as though she'd changed. And yet, her party leader remained just as bullheaded as before. He couldn't simply accept the good fortune and be done with it. He'd tried to fight their rescuers.

It was understandable at first. He'd just woken up and was surely confused, after all. But then he continued to antagonize them even after their rescue. He kept trying to talk Rudolph and Eleanora into planning an escape or fighting back against their captors. The same ones who had managed to kill an area boss.

Needless to say, she wasn't exactly on board with the idea. As much as she wanted to go home right now, see her family, and try this adventuring thing again in a few years—after taking some time to unwind and let the stress of recent experiences dissipate—there was no chance that would happen unless they were released. She wasn't about to fight literally thousands of people on the same level as the ten who had saved them. That was just one of the dumbest decisions you could possibly think to make in this situation.

Yet despite pointing out the rather glaring flaws in his plan, Jack was still going on about it. Of course.

She let out a huge sigh and sent another [Heal] toward the party leader as he partially blocked a paw swipe. No, things were just not going their way at all. At least they had someone to watch their back, though. Fighting a single shadow panther was bad enough, but after what she'd seen in this forest, she was always certain that something else was just waiting to pounce on them at a moment's notice. Even now, beady black eyes and indistinct shapes seemed to hover at the edges of her vision, only to disappear whenever she turned to look. They just weren't prepared for this.

She watched her party fight, looking to see where she might be needed next. Technically, they were a little underleveled, but that wasn't the biggest problem. It was their teamwork. Jack didn't deal enough damage himself to take down an enemy without help, and Rudolph had trouble positioning around him to take confident shots with his bow. He wasn't good enough at keeping watch, either—especially during fights. She really couldn't do more than patch them up, which had so far been enough to keep them from dying. Except for that one time. But really, what could she have done about an ambush? Not that she thought she was perfect, but clearly, she wasn't the one holding them back.

For now, she'd do her best to keep her party alive. Even if she really just wanted to go home. But if the opportunity presented itself… well, she wasn't going to try to fight the Legion directly, but if they happened to look the other way, it only made sense to escape at some point. But doing it right now, while they were still being actively watched? No way.

Maybe when she left, she wouldn't travel with Jack or Rudolph. To be honest, both of her childhood friends had turned out to be far different from who she'd thought they were all those years growing up. Sometimes reality was just disappointing.

As another shadow panther fell to Jack's sword, the trio took a moment to rest under the watchful gaze of the soldiers around them. They didn't speak much—Jack out of paranoia, Rudolph from shyness, and herself from simple bitterness. After a few moments they continued on their shadow pather extermination campaign. Finding another beast only took a couple minutes. Yet as they started to engage with the solitary beast, their situation couldn't resist sliding downhill just a little further.

A low rumble echoed through the trees, its bassy tone setting her hair on end.

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