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Lucius's face showed a trace of complex emotion, clearly struggling deep inside. On one hand, there was the option to obediently return to legion, facing unpredictable judgment and punishment; on the other hand, there was the choice to flee, but that meant living forever in fear of being pursued. He knew that Pluto's severity and determination would never allow any fugitive to escape justice, especially in a place like Britain, far from his homeland.
His eyes darted rapidly between Cyrus and the hostage in his hands, teetering on the edge of reason and madness. His fear and hesitation were evident in his expression. He knew that whether he returned to legion or chose to flee, the outcome would be a matter of life and death. Pluto's iron grip and the severity of Roman military law meant that whichever path he chose, it would lead to an almost irreversible fate.
His eyes shifted back and forth between Cyrus's determined gaze and the helpless girl in his hand, hesitating. His momentary rationality told him to go back and face it, perhaps there was still a chance, but buried deep in his heart, pride and fervor incited him, encouraging him to give it a try, even if it meant going against the current.
"I will not yield so easily!" Lucius's voice suddenly became wild, his eyes flashing with unpredictable light, like a beast driven to desperation. His voice was deafening, his eyes reddened, like a desperate gladiator facing an irresistible fate. He held the girl tightly, as if grasping the last thread of hope. His voice was full of defiance and despair, shouting, "No one can stop me! No one!"
At this tense moment of confrontation, Cyrus faced Lucius's anger and confusion, and a hint of mockery appeared on his face. His eyes carried a cunning and calm light, as if he were watching an absurd drama. He sneered, "I'm laughing at how easily you get angry, you really are quite easy to provoke. As you get older, it's better not to get angry too often. What you're doing is just digging your own grave."
Lucius's face became even paler, and the anger in his eyes seemed to be ignited into a fiercer flame by Cyrus's words. He held the girl tightly, the blade of his sword flashing with a dangerous light. His breathing became heavy, struggling with the intertwined emotions of humiliation and fear.
"Young man, how dare you be so insolent in front of me!" Lucius's voice echoed in the room like thunder, "I am a Roman centurion, I will not be mocked by a mere boy!"
Cyrus's expression suddenly turned serious, his tone revealing an unquestionable authority, "Centurion Lucius, your actions have violated the Roman military regulations. Your reckless behavior not only puts yourself in danger, but also tarnishes the entire legion. You still have one last chance, drop your weapon, release the hostage, and perhaps there might be a chance to plead with the Legion commander."
Under Cyrus's verbal onslaught, Lucius appeared increasingly shaken, his hands involuntarily loosening their grip slightly. The girl's crying seemed particularly jarring in the tense atmosphere. The entire room seemed to be waiting for Lucius's final decision, as if time had frozen in that moment. Everyone's breathing became heavy, awaiting the outcome of this confrontation.
Just as Lucius's lips parted, seemingly preparing to say something, suddenly, his hand gripping the girl's neck began to convulse violently. An expression of incredulous pain flashed across his face, followed by a wail. It turned out that while Cyrus was continuously distracting his attention, Constantine took the opportunity to accurately throw a small knife, hitting Lucius's wrist.
The blade of the small knife embedded into his flesh, and fresh blood sprayed out instantly, staining the terrified girl's face. Lucius's hand loosened due to the pain, and the knife clattered to the floor, emitting a cold echo. The girl took the opportunity to escape, cowering in panic on the side.
Lucius struggled in pain, his eyes filled with fury and despair. He tried to resist the soldiers' siege, but as the pain from his wound intensified, his strength gradually weakened. In this chaos, Lucius's actions became more and more disorderly, as if he had lost his sanity and only instinctive resistance remained.
Cyrus and his soldiers were united, cooperating with each other, taking advantage of the momentary hesitation caused by Lucius's pain to attack. Whenever Lucius attempted to counterattack, soldiers swiftly approached from the side or behind to subdue him. In this life-and-death struggle, Lucius posed a significant obstacle to the soldiers, but ultimately could not change the predicament of being surrounded.
At this moment, Lucius made a desperate attempt. He suddenly sprinted forward, trying to break through the encirclement. However, in the process, he stumbled and staggered backward. His steps faltered, and his vision became blurry. In that instant, time seemed to freeze, and a flash of fear and disbelief crossed Lucius's eyes. His body lost balance and fell heavily backward, directly rolling down from the top of the stairs.
As his body collided down the stairs, each impact was accompanied by a painful groan. His body, like a broken puppet, fell weakly to the bottom of the stairs. Lucius lay in the cold stairwell, his eyes revealing a hint of madness in the midst of agony. His vision gradually blurred, but as he lifted his head, he was horrified to find himself lying directly beneath the body of the village chief he had murdered. The chief's body was still pinned to the wall, blood dripping onto his face. This absurd scene triggered a burst of insane laughter in Lucius.
His laughter echoed in the empty room, carrying a sense of sorrow and despair. Though his body was exhausted, the laughter was filled with indescribable madness. Cyrus and his soldiers surrounded Lucius, but no one dared to make a move. They watched the former centurion who had now descended into the depths of madness and violence.
Cyrus's eyes were filled with pity and incomprehension. He couldn't understand how Lucius had fallen from being an outstanding officer to this state. The soldiers exchanged glances, hesitating on how to handle the situation. This scene was not just one person's breakdown, but also a severe test of discipline and morality for the Roman army.
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