1 Night One

The portal swirled violently, it's octarine edges expanding and contracting cyclically; straining the hastily constructed supports of the portal frame.

"Brace! Don't let the frame fall until the ritual is complete!" Praefectus Castrorum Vultes, the lead engineer cried. In response to his cries, the ten surviving men of the second Centuria braced against their supports; their travel worn boots slowly gouging groves into the soil upon which they stood, as the force of the portal continuously pushed against the shattered portal frame.

In response to the struggles of the second Centuria, the fourth Centuria threw their own men against the supports as well, leaving their encircling line dangerously weakened.

This may be a fatal mistake, but if this ritual fails, it really won't matter either way.

"Remus, the engineers are complete! The ritual is done, and he should step through at any moment! But the line is barely holding, and if the undead push any harder, it will break!" Tribunus Laticlavius Eli, my second in command, shouted to me.

It was exceedingly difficult to hear her over the unending wails of the undead around us, and the droning roar of the portal.

Then, in a flash, the portal collapsed. The second and fourth Centuria fell to the ground as the frame collapsed inwards, and I held my breath. Had the ritual failed?

No. It had not.

There, before me, stood a man. With the blond hair and blue eyes of a barbarian, standing over six feet tall. Clothed in a dark, detailed overcoat; wearing dull grey pantaloons, and black boots. In his hands, he held a simple black book. And in his eyes, there was only... confusion. Uncertainty.

Fear.

"Where am I? What's going on here?!" The barbarian cried, backing up and dropping into a combative crouch.

This isn't good. We were promised a leader, a general who would lead us from these times of darkness. The oracles has promised us this at the beginning of The End. And this man of barely twenty years looked nothing like that. However, since the oracles ordained it, I must humor them. Though they are long dead, there is still hope. After all, he does hail from another world...

"Sir, I am Legatus Legionis Remus, I am the first in command of the fifty second legion, and it's final flag bearer. I know not your name, merely your purpose. The oracles have ordained that you shall be the one to lead us from these dark times!" I shouted above the sounds of combat and the groans of the Undead.

The barbarian's eyes fell upon me, and I could see the light of cold cunning within them. I watched as he surveyed the battle around us, and It was as though a mask had slipped from his face. Gone was the fear, the uncertainty. Gone was the weakness.

Now, his face was devoid of emotion. It was as though only apathy remained, and his voice echoed that belief. As he responded to my pleas.

"Does magic exist in this world?" He asked, seemingly bored.

"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, our wizards were wiped out to a man with the fall of the Pontiff, and we have no warlocks or sorcerers with us. There is no peace, no safety, merely death and combat." I responded, hoping to instill in him the untrue of the threat we faced.

He merely sighed.

"Hand me the banner." He said, with an outstretched hand.

I hesitated, as the faith of the legion was with this banner. Should this banner fall, so would our legion, and every man knew it. But, as he beckoned once more, I reluctantly turned it over. We had nothing left to lose; it was do or die.

He looked at the banner, and the eagle atop it, with slight interest, before he turned to the second and fourth Centuria, just getting up from the ground.

"Who are they?" He asked, gesturing towards the fallen men.

"Second and fourth Centuria, sir. They are led by centurions Aria and Zuro. They are veterans hardened by the unending combat of this new world, but not as experienced as our other Centuria." I responded quickly.

"Centuria... does that not mean you should have one hundred men in each?" The barbarian asked casually, as he slowly advanced towards the frontlines with the banner outstretched before him.

"Yes, sir. We started as a merger of two legions, but we barely have enough survivors for a cohort. The battles to reach this point have been to intense, and we simply haven't had enough time to regroup our men." I responded, watching as he stood behind the first Centuria and stared the undead in their rotting eyes.

"Unfortunate. Well, we shall simply have to make due, I suppose." He calmly said, before his face was filled with a look of fury and determination.

He roared, in a voice filled with fury. "Second and fourth Centuria, to the banner! Would you see your legion fall so easily to these worthless drones?"

In response, the second and forth Centuria jumped to their feet, drew their blades and charged towards the banner. And as they approached, I watched with awe as the undead around the banner withdrew, as though scalded with burning pitch.

As the second and fourth Centuria rallied to the barbarian holding our banner aloft, he gave further orders. "First Centuria, rotate line right! Second and fourth Centuria, two rows, ten columns! Follow the banner, and thrust upwards through their necks and into their heads!"

Then, as though commanded by a Caesar himself, the Centuria obeyed. The first Centuria swung outwards like a door, leaving a gap in the defensive circle. And the second and fourth Centuria flowed outwards, sweeping to the left around the defensive circle.

With the banner at their front, they swept through the undead tide at the base of our hill like a sharpened blade through garum.

I immediately reacted to the overwhelming victories of our worst two Centuria. "Legionaries, hold your ground! Take not one step back." I cried out, immediately racing to the battle lines with the engineering cohort to reinforce wherever necessary.

Within barely ten minutes, the foes which had hounded us for days were finally defeated. The men relaxed their postures slightly, but knew better than to let down their guard. The stayed in their defensive circumvallation, hidden behind their shields.

The barbarian approached me, and held forth the banner. I looked at him, stunned, and asked one simple question.

"How?"

"How what?" He responded, arching an eyebrow inquisitively.

"How did you do that? With the repulsing undead, I mean." I clarified.

"Dub me praetor so I might command this legion and fulfill me ordained task, and I shall answer you." He responded, smirking.

I sighed, before slowly nodding. "First, I will need to know your name." I responded.

"I go by many names, but you may call me... Axavia." The barbarian responded.

I nodded in response to his words. Then, at full volume, I exclaimed for all my remaining men to hear. "I, Legatus Legionis Remus, hereby declare you, Axavia, as Praetor of the fifty second legion! May all who dare oppose you face the might of the fifty second legion!"

Praetor Axavia nodded slowly, before responding. "I, Axavia Dex'iahKin, accept your appointment to Praetor. May I uphold the will of the legion as I would my own."

The legionaries, hearing this, roared their approval and slammed their shields with the hilts of their Gladius. The ringing of metal echoed through the silent misty night, warning any nearby predators as to the danger of the legion.

"So, Praetor Axavia, how did you do it?" I asked, leaning forwards in interest.

Axavia leaned forwards in response, and whispered one word. "Willpower."

I was stunned at the foolhardy nature of this statement, and demanded he explain. He did, but he continued to speak at barely above a mutter.

"Simple, really. This legion has absolute faith in the banner. They believe, with out a shadow of doubt, that should the banner fall, the legion will shortly after. Therefore, the subconsciously and conversely believe that as long as the banner stands, the legion will never fall. And every person who has ever been in the legion, or viewed it's might in action, believed the same thing. I simply channeled this belief through unwavering willpower, and made that belief manifest. And before the combined might of hundreds of thousands, living and deceased, how could the simple minds of these husks possibly disagree?"

I was absolutely stunned by this revelation. It was the same reasoning that powered the Pontiff, and the Caesar himself. Willpower, and the belief of the masses. How could I be so foolish as to overlook this?

"Don't spread the reasoning though. Beliefs are memetic. They only work when you don't truly understand them, but put unwavering faith in them regardless. Simply by explaining it to you, the faith you have in the power of the banner itself has decreased. You've viewed the source, and cannot go back to your old way of thinking." Praetor Axavia said, shrugging.

I slowly nodded along, quickly halting all plans of informing the men. They didn't need to know how it works, merely that it does.

"Legatus Legionis Remus, do you have a spare blade I could make use of? Preferably not a gladius, but a straight sword." Axavia asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Unfortunately not, Praetor. But you may have my gladius, as your will is the will of our legion, and your survival is paramount to our own." I replied, and decoupled my gladius sheathe from my belt, and held it out for our new praetor.

He reached out for it, and took it in both hands. Then, in one smooth motion, he unsheathed it and held it aloft; inspecting the quality of the blade in the harsh rays of the unending moonlight.

"This... will do. For now. Come, Legatus Legionis Remus, we have cleanup work to do." Axavia stated, turning away from me and towards the outer defensive ring.

I hurried along behind him, slightly thrown off by his swift action, yet attempting to appear calm and in control for my subordinates.

We reached the outer defensive ring, behind the remnants of the seventh Centuria, and Praetor Axavia rested his hand on the shoulder of the man in our way.

"Legionary, make way. There is much work to be done, before we can be certain this threat is passed." Axavia said, and the legionary looked towards me before moving aside.

As we stepped out of the encirclement, Praetor drew his new gladius and plunged it into the skull of one of the deceased undead; thrusting up from the neck towards the top of the skull.

He withdrew the gladius, it's sharpened steel blade shining in the moonlight, as congealed black ooze and bits of brain dripped from It's surface. He looked me in the eyes, and asked me a simple question.

"Can it spread?"

"Can what spread, Praetor?" I responded, confused.

"Whatever it was that made these poor bastards undead." Axavia stayed, as he thrust casually into another skull, withdrew the blade, and moved onto the next.

"No, sir, it cannot. We've fought these monsters for close to a weak, and none of us have gotten infected with whatever they have." I responded, watching as the blade continued to rise and fall in the pale moonlight.

"Good. Get the men fed and rested. Tighten the cordon, and set up a watch rotation. This is likely to be one of the few moments of peace we shall have, so make use of it while you still can." Praetor Axavia stated, before wandering off to continue his gruesome work.

I stood still for a moment, contemplating his words, and what world he must have been dragged from to so prepare him for this calamity, before hastening forth to make his words reality.