Before the colossal gates of Alexandria, an awe-inspiring sight unfolded: a vast army stood in immaculate formation, unmoving, as if time itself had paused to behold their grandeur. Clad in armor of radiant gold and crimson red, every soldier bore the unmistakable crest of the Roman Empire upon their chests, while fluttering banners held high above them shimmered with the imperial insignia. The sun's rays bounced off their polished helmets, turning the battlefield into a sea of gleaming metal.
These were not ordinary troops. They were the elite Legions of the Roman Empire—more specifically, the personal legionnaires of Julius Caesar himself. Each man a veteran, each blade honed not only by steel but by unwavering discipline and the weight of centuries-old tradition. The air was thick with tension, yet none moved. A solemn silence hung heavy, as if the gods themselves watched in anticipation.
Then came the thunder.
