I Loaded the Occult Panel

The seats at the Rome table were never set indoors. The moment the sea of stars retreated, grass sprouted beneath their feet.

Once the grass finished growing, sheep pens sprang up, followed by wooden fences.

Seven low hills formed a circle. Water pooled in the hollows between them, a layer of shredded reeds floating on the surface.

The city had not yet been built. This was exactly why their leader had chosen this projection in the first place:

This land carried the most weight at the exact moment before the city of Rome was ever founded.

Seven chairs, corresponding to the City of Seven Hills.

”On the twenty-third of last month, the Apennine declared war on Austro-Hungary.”

The owl perched on Minerva’s head turned its neck.

”I’ve seen the documents from the military. They mandate ensuring the existing balance on our side of the veil tilts in our favor.”

”The orders were issued to Mars.”Mars didn’t deny it. ”I accepted them.”

”You accepted them without consulting us first.”

”What would have been the point? You never would have agreed.”

Minerva sighed.

”Mars, I’m not going to argue with you over whether this battle should be fought.

The orders have already come down. Arguing is pointless.”

”You want to use this battle to advance, don’t you?”

Mars remained noncommittal.

”Romulus is the son of Mars.”

He turned his palm face-up on the table.

”Wearing this name, my standing at this table is no lower than yours.”

Minerva didn’t contradict him. The biggest difference between the Rome table and the Greece table lay exactly there.

The God of War’s weight in the Roman pantheon had never been second to the Goddess of Wisdom.

The Romans’ own ancestor was the son of Mars.

From the day this table was first filled, the seat at the head had been occupied by one while the other stared it down.

The owl atop Minerva’s head stared at the man.

”So if you win, you advance to Major Adept.”

”And after you advance, who will this table belong to?”

Mars didn’t answer.

Venus stepped in to play peacemaker.

”You two, this isn’t the time for infighting.”

”The other side has brought in a Virtuoso. We should focus on our next move.”

The table fell silent again.

”Only possibly,” Fortuna corrected her. ”I only read three words.”

”Three words is enough,” Venus said, looking disheartened.

”I’ve always been one to weigh the costs.”

”In this team battle, if we win, the benefits go to the leader and Mars.”

”If we lose, even if we aren’t wiped out, we’ll suffer catastrophic losses.”

Vesta, the Goddess of the Hearth, nodded from the side. It was her first time taking a stance tonight.

Minerva sat at the head of the table in silence.

She could, of course, also call upon a Virtuoso.

She knew two Virtuosos herself—one north of the Alps and another in Sicily.

But the price of bringing one here was so steep that she would rather forfeit this battle entirely.

She could invite them, but the question was... why should she?

She wasn’t the one who wanted this battle in the first place.

The orders had been sent to Mars, the military was the one pressing the issue, and Mars was the one using this fight to climb higher.

If she bet her life and fortune on this, the only result would be Mars advancing to Major Adept.

Once he advanced, would her own seat still be secure?

”Minerva, are you going to invite someone or not?” Mars asked, seeing right through her.

Minerva looked up, her deep-set eyes completely unreadable.

”I will not. The price is too high.”

”Then what are we supposed to do if the other side has a Virtuoso backing them?”

”We don’t even know for sure if they managed to get one.”

”Fortuna said—”

”Fortuna said she doesn’t know either,” Minerva cut him off impatiently.

”Mars, I’ll give you two options.”

”Either we fight this battle as planned, and you figure out a solution yourself.”

Only then did Minerva reveal her true intentions.

”Or we delay the fight.”

”Delay it until when?”

”Until we figure out the enemy’s real trump card.”

Mars sat there in silence for a long time.

”We can’t delay. The date is already set in the orders, and we can’t defy the military.”

It sounded nice, but the truth was that he had painted himself into a corner and was just trying to drag everyone else down with him.

Minerva didn’t expose his lie; she only let out a cold huff.

”Then we fight.”

”You aren’t going to help?”

”Of course I’ll take the field. I’m the leader; if I don’t, this table will fall apart.”

”But I won’t be calling in outside help.”

Mars wasn’t surprised.

”Minerva, if you won’t invite someone, I will.”

”With what?”

Minerva looked at him, somewhat surprised. ”I know exactly what you have in your possession.”

”Your intelligence is out of date.”

”Three days ago, I submitted a request to the Corps of Engineers. It was approved last night.”

Venus sat on the hill diagonally opposite them, having watched the two bicker with cold detachment.

Hearing this, her interest was instantly piqued.

”What got approved?”

”Permission to recite it.”

The water in the hollows suddenly grew deathly still.

Venus tucked her silver mirror away into her sleeve.

Vesta sat completely still, though the fire in the earthen basin beside her feet leaped.

The Goddess of the Hunt hadn’t said a single word all night. She merely rested the bow horizontally across her lap.

The figure sitting on the seventh hill, who had never given a divine name, rested their chin on folded hands. Three rings adorned their fingers.

”Recite it,” Minerva said with a wave of her hand.

Mars closed his eyes.

”He who circles the dawn of ten thousand cities, whose foundation is one with the walls.”

As the first line fell, the grass on all seven hills flattened into a circular pattern, radiating inward toward the hollows.

Across the Apennine Peninsula, at the base of the walls in dozens of cities from north to south, every stray cat slinked away from the stonework.

Along the outer wall of a sixteenth-century bastion in Genoa, a night watchman watched in disbelief as white ash drifted from the cracks in the stone.

”He who carved the absolute boundary of life and death with a single plow.”

The water in the hollows receded entirely, and the wheel of fate turning above Fortuna’s head ground to a halt.

”He whose blood has formed the trenches and whose bones have built the ramparts, leaving only the boundary line to encircle the world for eternity.”

The moment the third line was spoken, the earth peeled back on both sides, carving a deep trench that wove past the seven hills and stretched away to the south.

”...Oh?”

The voice didn’t sound like a Virtuoso at all.

It was far too ordinary. It sounded exactly like an elderly craftsman standing on a construction site, his lungs choked by lime dust for far too many years, leaving a raspy grit at the tail end of his words.

”A squabble over seats. The last time someone invoked my name for one of these was a hundred and sixty years ago.”

The voice continued, ”The kid back then was about your age.”

”Did he win?” Mars asked.

”No.”

Minerva sat up straight. She knew exactly which Virtuoso this was.

He had been born in an era when the Renaissance was in full swing.

Humanists had dug the records of Romulus’s original boundary trench—written by Livy, Varro, and Plutarch—out of the monastery’s Storeroom.

This man had tirelessly replicated the city-founding rituals, repeating them hundreds, perhaps thousands of times over the course of a century.

He was not the mythological Roman ancestor, Romulus, of course.

He was merely the only person in that entire century to anchor the weight of those thousands of city-founding rituals onto his own existence.

”Senior,” Mars said, taking a step forward and bowing respectfully.

”The situation this time might be different from back then. You—”

”Hold on,” the voice interrupted. ”Since you called me over, the other side definitely has more than just a Major Adept.”

”Who did they invite?”

Fortuna answered for him.

”The Road of No Return, the Deep Realm, Returning with an Army.”

The fresh soil crumbling down the edges of the trench instantly froze in place.

Not a single person atop the seven hills dared to make a sound.

”...Oh!”

This ”Oh!” carried a completely different weight than the first.

”Are you acquainted with him?” Mars asked.

”No.”

”Then—”

”I’ve never met the guy, but I’ve heard of the things he’s done.”

”I’ve spent my entire life drawing borders and boundaries, but that guy is a road himself.”

”A trench can stop people who walk, but it can’t block the road itself.”

The seven hills were so quiet that they could hear the wind rustling through the hay in the sheep pens.

”So what you’re saying, Senior, is...” Minerva spoke up for the first time.

”That guy’s arcana is extremely bizarre. I might not be able to block him completely.”

Standing by the edge of the trench, Mars’s breathing beneath his iron mask grew heavier. ”That’s enough.”

”As long as it’s enough,” the voice from the trench replied flatly.

”Then let’s talk about my price.”

Atop the seventh hill, the newcomer raised his head. They had finally reached the part he was familiar with.

”Name your price, Senior,” Mars said.

”First,” the voice said, ”offer up everything your family owns to me.”

Mars froze.

”...Which part of it?”

”All of it.”

A sigh echoed out across the seven hills.

”Your grandfather’s, your father’s, your own... every last scrap accumulated over three generations. Leave nothing behind.”

”I don’t care if it’s good or bad. I just want all of it.”

”Why?” Venus couldn’t stop herself from asking.

The voice in the trench let out a dry chuckle.

”Child, I’ve spent my life drawing city borders for others.”

”To draw a border, you must first surrender everything that falls on the other side of it.”

”Surrender only half, and this trench is nothing but a dirt pit.”

Standing at the bottom of the slope, Mars forced the words out.

”...Agreed.”

”Mind you, I said all of it. I want the spoils of your future hunts, as well.”

”For how long?”

”Until you feel that you have truly offered up everything.”

Mars clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

”Agreed.”

The voice hummed in satisfaction. ”Once you advance to Major Adept, you’ll be thanking me for today.”

The figure on the seventh hill finally stirred.

”Everyone, the supplies required for this battle shipped out from Trieste the night before last.”

”Spellcasting Mediums, alchemical potions, defensive talismans... nineteen crates in total.”

He offered a polite, shallow bow to the table.

”I won’t press you for the bill. We can settle the accounts after the battle.”

”What’s your cut?” Minerva asked.

”Twenty percent.”

”Twenty percent of what?”

”Twenty percent of the spoils you all claim after winning.”

”And if we lose?”

”If you lose, you won’t have to pay me back,” he said with great understanding.

”Dead men owe no debts. It’s an old rule in our line of business.”

At that moment, the voice in the trench spoke up once more.

”Alright, the money is none of my business.”

”Let’s talk about what I’m giving you.”

Everyone atop the seven hills looked up.

The trench crawled to the crest of the hills, wrapping entirely around the seven chairs before connecting in a closed loop.

The moment it snapped shut, the ether field inside the entire projection inverted itself.

Venus was the first to react.

Raising her hand, she condensed a small orb of light in her palm.

When the ball of light burst into existence, even she flinched and pulled her hand back.

”...What is this.”

”Inside the trench is Rome,” the Virtuoso said.

”As long as you stand within this border, all your powers will be amplified.”

”Anyone entering from outside will be treated as a foreign invader and suffer massive suppression.”

Vesta glanced down at the earthen basin by her feet. The small flicker of flame was reaching higher than it had been a moment ago.

”Senior.” Venus lowered her hand.

”Does outside help count as being inside the trench?”

”No.”

The voice from the trench replied,

”The city-founding rituals only recognize citizens. Your divine names are your proof of identity.”

”Anyone you bring in isn’t from Rome. If they stand in here, they’ll be treated as foreign invaders just like the enemy.”

Mars turned back around to face the seven hills directly.

”Everyone, if we pay an exorbitant price to bring in outside help only for them to be suppressed here, if they die, they will truly stay dead.”

He clenched his fist.

”I propose we bring in no one at all.”

Venus’s eyes lit up. The person she had been planning to hire was a Major Adept.

The price alone had been painful enough to keep her tossing and turning at night.

”I agree,” she immediately voiced her support.

Vesta nodded.

The Goddess of the Hunt also signaled her agreement with the proposal.

”Look at the worst-case scenario,” Mars said slowly.

”Even if we can’t hold the line, with this Senior here, we won’t face a total wipeout.”

”The other side isn’t so lucky. If they and their hired help die here, they’ll truly be dead.”

The Virtuoso said nothing, waiting in silence.

”Let’s do the math,” Mars said, laying his intentions bare.

”All of you were prepared to pay the price of calling in outside help. I have just saved you that expense.”

”You all just heard what I had to pay.”

”I won’t ask any of you to shoulder my burden. I only ask that you hand over whatever price you were already prepared to pay your hired help to me instead.”

The gentle breeze drifting over the seven hills abruptly died.

Venus furrowed her brow. ”Mars, you certainly have a silver tongue.”

”But how do you know how much I was preparing to pay?”

”I don’t,” Mars said, his composure fully restored. ”You will all name your own price.”

”And if we underreport it?”

”If you underreport it, I won’t press the issue. We all still have to sit at this table together moving forward.”

From the highest hill, Minerva watched in silence as Mars bought their loyalty.

His play was beautiful—so flawless that she couldn’t even find a fault to pick at.

Three people atop the seven hills were already nodding in agreement.

Starting tonight, everyone at this table would owe him a debt in their hearts.

And not just because he had managed to secure a Virtuoso.

He had shouldered a life-or-death gamble all by himself, and then graciously handed everyone else a lifeline.

Minerva and Fortuna exchanged a glance.

With the way things stood, her own seat at the head was beginning to totter.

”Minerva.” Mars turned toward her.

”What about your share?”

Minerva couldn’t be bothered with him.

”I never intended to bring anyone in to begin with, so I haven’t saved a thing.”

Mars stood his ground and didn’t press the issue.

The voice from the trench spoke up again.

”Are you finished discussing?”

”We are.”

”Then I’ll be taking my leave,” the voice said.

”My price isn’t so easily taken, so I’ll leave you with a reminder.”

”These names are mighty useful while you wear them, but it hurts like hell when they’re ripped away.”

The freshly overturned earth along the edge of the trench collapsed back into place, but the demarcation line in the black mud remained.