Fallout:Blood and the Bull

honest reviews would be greatly appreciated

Any opinion and comments are welcome

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Pov of a Tiberius Occisor Centurion

The black crystal door opened with a deep groan, revealing a path that descended further into the depths. The air inside was different, charged with an energy that made our weapons and armor hum. We descended cautiously, the formation adjusting to maximize coverage, with every man keeping his weapon ready.

Finally, the corridor led us to another cavern. This chamber was enormous, so vast that the light from our torches barely illuminated the walls. But the most impressive sight was what it held: Manacite crystals. They jutted from the ground, walls, and ceiling, illuminating the cavern with a deep blue glow. This was our objective. This was why Caesar had sent us, and here we would fulfill his will.

As I observed the Manacite landscape, I noticed something: there was no dungeon core. This meant the dungeon couldn't be neutralized at this level, and if we wanted to close it completely, we would have to descend further. However, it was clear this dungeon was a source of livelihood for many locals. Sealing it would destroy their means of survival and possibly provoke unexpected resistance.

"We didn't come here to seal this place but to fulfill Caesar's will," I declared to the men. It was a simple truth. The Manacite was our priority, and any other considerations could wait.

"Legionnaires, unpack the equipment," I ordered. Backpacks were quickly opened, and the mining tools we had brought were distributed. Shovels, picks, and specialized tools were handed out to the men designated for the task.

The rest positioned themselves to maintain a guard. We couldn't afford to lower our vigilance, especially after the battles we had faced. Any noise, any strange movement, would be met with immediate force.

The work began at once. The strikes of picks against the Manacite resounded throughout the cavern, mingling with the commands of the officers directing the operation. The legionnaires worked with speed and efficiency, cutting large chunks of Manacite and securing them in specially designed crates for transport back to the east.

We toiled for hours in that cavern, extracting as much Manacite as our forces allowed. The sound of picks striking the crystals was relentless, while the crates slowly filled with fragments of the precious material. The concentration of the legionnaires was absolute; they knew that any distraction could mean failure—or worse.

But then, something changed.

An unusual cry broke the methodical rhythm of the extraction. One of my legionnaires, a strong and reliable man, stood before an exceptionally large Manacite crystal. His gaze had turned vacant, and a strange smile began to spread across his face. Soon, that smile turned into hysterical laughter, a sound so out of place that it caused everyone nearby to stop and look at him with concern.

"What is he doing?" one of the optios asked, breaking the silence.

Before I could respond, I saw the Manacite in the legionnaire's hands begin to glow intensely. A bright blue energy moved from the crystal into his body, enveloping him in an ethereal mist. The legionnaire suddenly stopped laughing and collapsed to the ground like a broken doll.

I ran toward him, my sword ready, but what I saw froze me. The man's face was etched with blue lines that looked burned into his skin, and his eyes were empty, as though his soul had been ripped out. His body lay still, lifeless.

The other legionnaires looked at me, awaiting an explanation. I could see the doubt in their eyes, the fear that what they had just witnessed could happen to them too. But I had no answers. I didn't understand what had happened or why the Manacite had killed him.

"Centurion, what do we do?" one of the optios asked, his voice trembling slightly.

I knew that doubt was a poison I couldn't allow in the Legion. If I didn't act immediately, that uncertainty could spread like an uncontrollable fire.

"His will was weak," I declared loudly, my tone firm and authoritative. "The great Caesar demands strength and discipline. This man failed, and his punishment was just. Now, return to your work. We have a mission to complete, and I will not tolerate distractions."

My words echoed in the cavern like a hammer striking an anvil. Though some men still showed signs of doubt, most quickly returned to their tasks. They knew there was no room for fear or uncertainty under Caesar's will.

As I watched my men resume their work, I couldn't help but glance at the fallen legionnaire's body. I didn't understand what had happened, but one thing was clear: these Manacite crystals were more dangerous than they seemed. I would have to report this to Caesar upon our return. If something posed a risk to the mission, he would decide how to handle it.

The body was set aside without ceremony, and the extraction continued. The Legion doesn't stop. No matter how dark the path, Caesar's will is absolute, and we are his instruments.

We camped for two days in the vast cavern, working tirelessly to extract as much Manacite as possible. Every legionnaire was assigned a specific task, whether mining, packing the crystals, or maintaining constant vigilance. We knew that every fragment we carried would be crucial to fulfilling Caesar's will, but the constant danger reminded us that our stay couldn't extend beyond what was necessary.

Our supplies were depleting rapidly, forcing us to rely on the game we had hunted earlier. The meat of the owl-bears proved surprisingly nutritious, though tough and strongly flavored. The serpents, on the other hand, posed a risk we couldn't afford. Despite suggestions to attempt purging their venom, I decided it wasn't worth the danger. Instead of their meat, we took their scales, which were durable and could serve as trophies or material for light armor.

Finally, our packs and carts were filled to the brim with the precious Manacite. We had accumulated an impressive amount, enough to justify the effort and sacrifices made. But the resource was far from exhausted. Plenty of Manacite still glittered in the depths of the cavern, a tempting reminder that this place could still be exploited in the future.

"Centurion, we've left enough behind for another trip if Caesar commands it," one of my optios said as he oversaw the final loads.

"So be it," I replied, looking around. "For now, our mission is complete. What remains here will wait until Caesar decides we must return."

By the end of the second day, the last preparations were finished. We checked every load, ensuring the Manacite was secured in its crates to avoid damage. Weapons and armor were meticulously inspected, and the men rested in shifts, always maintaining high alert. Although we hadn't faced another threat since the serpents, we knew the dungeon could surprise us at any moment.

The cavern, now quiet except for our activities, seemed to watch us. A lingering unease hung in the air, as if the dungeon itself knew we had challenged it and emerged victorious.

Our ascent proceeded with relative calm until we heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight—shouts, clashing weapons, and finally, an explosion. We halted immediately, raising our shields and tightening our formations.

"Close formation. Advance with caution," I ordered, signaling the cohort to prepare for a potential confrontation.

As we advanced, we came upon a large chamber where a group of adventurers was skinning the body of a griffin. The creature, enormous and majestic, lay on the ground, its flesh still steaming from the recent explosion. The adventurers, noticing our arrival, immediately went on the defensive.

Among them, a scrawny man with the typical appearance of a washed-up mage gaped at the sight of our loaded carts. His reaction was so exaggerated that even his companions looked at him with confusion.

"That's… Manacite! But… what are you doing with so much? That's impossible!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with a mix of awe and greed.

My men raised their shields, ready for any sign of hostility. While the adventurers remained tense, the mage couldn't tear his gaze away from the Manacite.

"Move along. We're not here for petty confrontations," I ordered, signaling the legionnaires to keep moving. We had no time for unnecessary delays.

However, the mage ran toward us, dodging his companions' attempts to stop him. "Please! Sell me a piece! Please!" he begged, nearly kneeling before me.

"We have orders to remove it from the dungeon," I replied firmly. But then I remembered what had happened to one of my men in the previous cavern. The image of his body marked with blue lines was still fresh in my mind.

"Mage, tell me something," I said, stopping and holding up a piece of Manacite. "What happens if someone absorbs this and blue marks appear all over their body?"

The mage's eyes widened even further, and his face paled. "You don't know? You came here to get this without knowing?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and fear. "Manacite, when used by an unskilled mage, can be absorbed uncontrollably. That causes mana addiction, which can either consume them entirely or lead to a slow and painful death by overdose."

"Well… interesting information," I said, tossing him a small fragment. The mage caught it with trembling hands, his eyes lighting up as if I had handed him the greatest treasure in the world. His companions looked at him with disapproval, while they remained focused on the dead griffin.

"Thank you," I said with a sarcastic tone before ordering the cohort to resume the march. There was no more time to waste.

The path continued with relative calm, though the tension was palpable. The dangers of the dungeon seemed to lessen with each level we ascended; the lone beasts we encountered were easily eliminated or fled before even attempting to attack. However, another threat was growing: the greedy gazes of the adventurers.

It was impossible to ignore how their eyes followed our carts loaded with Manacite, as well as our backpacks filled with smaller fragments. Some kept their distance, watching silently, while others exchanged whispers and glances that made their intentions clear. We never lingered in one place; our formation continued advancing without pause.

Finally, as we turned into a wide corridor, we found what I had feared. A large group of adventurers was waiting ahead, blocking the path. They were well-armed, with swords, shields, bows, and magic staffs ready. Their faces showed determination but also the arrogance of those who believe their numbers guarantee victory.

I immediately understood what was happening. This wasn't a coincidence; they were here to rob us. I wasn't going to wait for them to take the initiative.

"Legionnaires, drop the loads, weapons ready," I commanded firmly, letting my backpack fall to the ground. My men followed quickly, discarding their packs and adjusting their shields and swords.

One of the adventurers, who seemed to be their leader, smirked disdainfully as he saw us prepare. "It seems you're smarter than I..." he began to say, but his words were abruptly cut off as a spear, thrown with precision by one of my men, pierced his throat. The adventurer collapsed to the ground, choking on his own blood.

"CHARGE!" I roared, raising my sword, and the Legion responded as one.

The orderly formation we had maintained until that moment broke as we surged toward the adventurers. There was no room for complex maneuvers; this was a chaotic, brutal melee. Swords clashed against swords, shields slammed into each other, and war cries mixed with screams of pain.

The adventurers tried to resist, but they were woefully unprepared to face soldiers as trained as us. Their lines quickly collapsed under our pressure.

A mage raised a staff, trying to channel his arcane power, but an arrow struck him in the chest before he could cast his spell. He coughed blood as he fell to his knees, and another legionnaire ended his life with a swift slash to the neck.

Another adventurer, wielding a greatsword, charged at me, screaming like a wild beast. I deflected his blow with my shield and shoved him back, driving my sword into his side before he could regain his balance.

A group of archers attempted to keep their distance, firing arrows at our ranks, but our shields repelled them with ease. The legionnaires with short swords closed in on them, taking them out one by one with precise strikes.

The battle raged for what felt like an eternity but lasted only a few minutes. The ground became slick with blood and bodies as our swords did their work. The adventurers fought bravely, but they lacked the discipline and training of the Legion. Their every movement was chaotic and desperate, and our organization crushed them.

Finally, the last survivors tried to flee, abandoning their dead and wounded companions. We showed no mercy. Our archers' arrows struck down the runners, and the cavern fell silent except for the labored breathing of my men.

"Centurion, we've won, but we suffered some losses," reported an optio, wiping the blood from his sword. I nodded, looking at the legionnaires who lay fallen among the bodies of the adventurers.

"Gather the packs and any weapons we can use," I ordered. The legionnaires began searching the bodies, recovering arrows, swords, and any useful equipment.

I glanced at the carts of Manacite, still intact. We had defended our load, but this was a stark reminder that the danger didn't only come from the beasts of the dungeon but also from greedy men.

Finally, after endless days of combat, exhaustion, and sacrifice, we emerged to the surface. The sunlight, warm and bright, hit our faces, still covered in sweat, dust, and dried blood. Of the five hundred legionnaires who had descended with me into the depths of the dungeon, only four hundred and twelve survived to tell the tale.

Every step toward the surface had been a test of endurance, and each fallen brother had done so fulfilling Caesar's will, serving with honor in the mission entrusted to us. They were comrades who gave everything to secure the victory and future of the Legion.

As we reached the dungeon's entrance, we were met with a chaotic scene. The adventurers' guild, normally orderly, was in complete disarray. Merchants from various regions, adventurers, and curious onlookers crowded around, their faces alight with greed and curiosity as they saw our carts and packs overflowing with Manacite.

"Those crystals! Please, sell them to me! I'll pay whatever you ask!" shouted a merchant in colorful clothing, holding out a bag of gold toward us.

"I'll offer double the price! Manacite is priceless!" another exclaimed, nearly shoving the first aside to be noticed.

Even some adventurers approached, trying to negotiate or perhaps considering an attempt to seize our cargo if given the chance. Their eyes, filled with greed, roamed over our carts and packs.

But we didn't respond. Our discipline and purpose were clear. Formed into a tight unit, we advanced in complete silence, ignoring the shouts and offers hurled at us from all sides.

"Move aside!" commanded one of my optios, his tone grave and authoritative. The legionnaires pushed back anyone who came too close, shields raised and swords ready to draw if anyone tried more than talking.

One merchant, bolder than the rest, tried to touch one of the carts. A legionnaire shoved him back forcefully, sending him sprawling to the ground. The crowd stepped back slightly, intimidated by our firmness and zero tolerance.

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honest reviews would be greatly appreciated

Any opinion and comments are welcome