Chapter 890: Chapter 6: Time Paradox, Shaking the Origin!
Britain, London.
With a burst of hurried footsteps, a stern-faced man walked into Section 7, handing the confidential document in his hand to a short, stout middle-aged man wearing glasses.
"Napoleon has already reached Paris?"
"That bunch of incompetents in the Mediterranean fleet couldn’t even get this done right."
The middle-aged man took a glance and cursed angrily. Britain had a patrolling fleet in the Mediterranean, originally planning to block Napoleon’s return from Egypt to France, yet the navy couldn’t even manage this.
The young man across from him, with a meticulous expression, said, "Napoleon has the protection of a witch from Corsica Island."
"During his campaigns in Italy, he also gained the support of the indigenous mage families in Italy."
"If he disguises himself, ordinary people will find it difficult to locate him."
Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man took a deep breath, touched his bald head, and said slowly, "We must be cautious of him launching a coup to seize power, as he currently holds significant prestige in France."
"Especially with the military, they almost overwhelmingly support him."
To the people of Britain’s Section 7, Napoleon posed a much greater threat than any other members of the Revolutionary Party because he was truly capable of fighting, having crushed the Italian-European coalition forces in a single battle. Although Britain had the advantage in naval battles, they rarely won on land against France.
The young man across handed over another document, saying, "Big Ben sent this news."
"Someone in Paris has initiated a Holy Grail ritual."
"This time, the Holy Grail ritual might far exceed those of the past, even reaching the intensity of the American colonies’ independence."
"The magic association from Britain’s homeland has already sent people over."
"However, the academy currently hasn’t made any moves."
"Big Ben dispatched people to seek guidance from Merlin using magic, but as before, Merlin hasn’t responded in any way."
Another Holy Grail ritual.
Upon hearing this, the stout bald middle-aged man felt a headache. In recent decades, people from the mysterious world increasingly favored initiating Holy Grail rituals. Ever since monotheism completed the magic of the artificial Holy Grail, reports of the Holy Grail’s appearance occasionally emerged throughout Europe.
During the last American War of Independence, the Holy Grail fell into Washington’s hands, and the wish he made to it was ’God Bless America.’
"We must notify Her Majesty the Queen."
The middle-aged man hurriedly stood up, saying, "Send someone immediately to inform the Royal Mage Association. We absolutely cannot let Napoleon acquire the Holy Grail."
"By the way."
"What movements are there from the Vatican side?"
The young man beside replied, "Not quite clear. But they seem keen on taking away the Holy Grail."
France, Paris.
Amidst the quiet night, a dull thud suddenly resounded, followed by a burst of gunfire.
In the darkness, a burly figure emerged, donned in Thracian gladiator gear, wielding a sword and a shield. His dexterity seemed beyond that of mortals, as he faced the concentrated musket fire from the personal guard, leaping up to evade bullets, then swiftly wielding his sword, slaying several people, his combat skills nearly at the zenith of mortal capabilities.
"Champion gladiator!"
Balton’s expression instantly grew solemn; he seemed to discern the identity of the opponent and told the Corsican witch beside him, "Have your men fall back."
"Mortals simply cannot fend off the champion gladiator from the arena."
After saying this, Balton also took out a short sword and shield, heading toward the shadow in the darkness.
The firearms of this era were indeed powerful.
But due to the slow reloading, they posed no significant threat to Heroic Spirits, especially experts in sword and shield combat, who didn’t fear frontal gunfire coverage.
"Romans!"
In the darkness, a burly figure slowly emerged, no longer paying attention to others, but rather staring intensely at Balton, clad in Roman-style armor in the distance. A hint of hatred appeared in his eyes—hatred toward Rome—like a fated confrontation, even disregarding the summoner’s orders.
"Slave gladiator."
"Spartacus?"
Balton’s expression still bore the arrogance of an old Roman noble. He tightly gripped his sword and shield, beckoning towards Spartacus ahead, his demeanor and words tinged with disdain.
No matter how the later generations glorify Spartacus, historically, Romans never cared about slave uprisings.
Spartacus was directly butchered into pulp by the Roman army.
Thousands of those rebellious slaves were also crucified, lining the road from Rome to Capua.
Being an old Roman noble, Balton was well aware of the leader of this slave uprising.
Clang!
Sparks erupted.
The cobblestones on the streets of Paris shattered. Balton’s figure resembled a beast in a frenzy, and the moment they collided, the impact shattered nearby cobblestones. In comparison, Spartacus’s combat skills seemed more sophisticated, yet Balton showed no fear, relying on his fine equipment to engage in direct combat—he was also a veteran of the battlefield.
Bang!
After a bout of exchanges, Spartacus suddenly roared angrily, as if in a frenzy, sending Balton flying. His figure slammed heavily into the wall, creating a humanoid depression as the wall cracked.
Balton spat out blood upon landing, then planted a golden eagle banner into the ground.
Imperial Eagle Banner Legion.
Facing Balton’s summoned imperial legion, Spartacus remained utterly fearless. The champion gladiator’s combat skills were the pinnacle of mortals; regardless of numerical superiority, he felt no fear. The duel between them wouldn’t end easily, as Spartacus was inherently not a Heroic Spirit inclined to obey orders easily.
