The older general let out a cry—a pitiable mix of rage and grief—as he saw Hasdrubal fall. In desperation, Bomilcar lunged around the table, swinging his short sword wildly. Kesseph intercepted him. The stout Carthaginian slashed at Kesseph's face, but my lieutenant was far quicker; he weaved under the blade and caught the general's wrist in an iron grip. There was a sharp crack as Kesseph snapped Bomilcar's arm against the edge of the table, twisting it behind his back. The sword clattered from the man's hand. With a fluid motion, Kesseph brought his kopis to the general's throat.
"Surrender," Kesseph growled, his voice low and heavy with battle lust.
Bomilcar only snarled back in Punic, spitting at Kesseph's feet. Even cornered, he refused to yield. In that heartbeat of hesitation, his free hand darted to a bronze paperweight on the map table—a heavy little bust of some Carthaginian god—and he smashed it backward into Kesseph's cheek. My second-in-command reeled from the unexpected blow, and Bomilcar tore free, staggering toward the open doorway.
He never reached it. I hurled my dagger, the same blade that had killed the guard, with lethal precision. It struck the fleeing general at the base of his skull. Bomilcar collapsed mid-stride, crashing face-first to the stone floor and sliding to a lifeless stop at the threshold of his own command post. The bronze bust rolled from his limp hand, coming to rest against the toe of my boot. And just like that, the last heartbeat of Carthaginian leadership in Agrigentum was stilled.
The chamber fell quiet save for our breathing. The entire fight had been over in moments, yet every man of us stood with blood pounding in our ears, adrenaline still coursing hot. I surveyed the scene swiftly. Both target generals: neutralised. All immediate guards: dead. None of the enemy had escaped to raise alarm. One of my Umbra lay slain and another moaned softly as a comrade bound the dagger wound under his chin—it looked shallow enough to survive. The rest of my soldiers were winded but intact. Roman efficiency and a bit of surprise had won the night. Above, the battle for the walls surely still raged, but its outcome was now tilted irreversibly in Rome's favour. The Carthaginian army would be a snake without a head. Confusion and panic would spread as soon as they discovered their leaders gone.
Kesseph wiped a streak of blood from his cheek where Bomilcar had struck him, and flashed me a grin of white teeth. "Not so bad for a night's work," he muttered. His accent lilted even when he whispered—a reminder of that strange optimism he always carried. I simply nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder briefly. He understood the gesture: Well done.
We moved swiftly now. I beckoned two men to the map table. Upon it lay spread several important-looking scrolls and charts weighted down by stones and figurines. Carthaginian war maps—detailed diagrams of Agrigentum's defenses, plans of counterattack, supply routes. The very lifeblood of their strategy. Exactly what we had come to seize. While Kesseph and another Umbra rifled through the maps, I knelt by Hasdrubal's still-twitching form. His eyes, glazed with death, stared sightlessly at the ceiling. With a careful motion, I closed them. He had fought bravely for his cause—few got a duel with me and lived even those few moments. In another life, perhaps, we could have been allies or friends. But in this one, he was just another adversary brought low.
A harsh scraping sounded behind me—one of my men prying an iron lockbox open. "Sir," hissed the legionary, holding up a thick roll of parchment, "this looks like correspondence from Carthage. Sealed orders."
I took it from him and glanced at the broken seal: the signet of the Council of Elders in Carthage. Interesting. "Pack it with the maps," I ordered. "We're taking everything. Leave nothing useful behind." The soldiers quickly bundled the maps, letters, and tablets into a leather satchel. We worked in near-silence, the only sounds the crackle of torches and the drip of water seeping from the walls.
When all was gathered, I cast a final look around the chamber. Two dead generals sprawled among their scattered plans, their blood slowly pooling into the grooves between stones. The scene was grim, but effective. The Carthaginians would awaken to chaos: leaders murdered, war plans vanished, an enemy that struck from the shadows without leaving so much as a trace of how they entered. I felt nothing that could be called mercy or cruelty—just the cold satisfaction of a mission completed. This is what Ruso had asked of me. This is what I was made to do.
One of my youngest soldiers hovered by the doorway, shifting his weight. He was barely twenty, his face smeared with soot and sweat, eyes alight with a mixture of triumph and horror at what we'd done. "Centurion… what now?" he whispered, as if afraid the walls themselves might hear. It was the first time any of us had spoken above a whisper since entering the tunnels. The others looked to me as well, waiting.
I stepped over General Bomilcar's corpse and stood in the centre of the room, the satchel of enemy maps clenched in my fist. The mission was finished. It was time to go. "Now," I said, my voice low but clear in the hush, "we disappear." I glanced around at each of my blood-splattered men, ensuring they understood. "Back the way we came. Quiet as ghosts. Regroup at the cistern entrance and then out." They nodded, already melting into formation. We would exit Agrigentum as a shadow returns to darkness—leaving behind only questions and fear.
Before I followed them out, I paused and cast one last look at the slain Carthaginian commanders. In the stillness, the lamps flickered, drawing long tongues of shadow across the walls. In those dancing shadows I fancied I saw shapes—like the silhouettes of black wings stretching. An old, familiar chill crept over me. It was done. Another victory for Rome. And yet a voice at the back of my mind—quiet, insistent—asked, At what cost to your soul, Tenebris?
I turned on my heel and slipped into the tunnel, leaving the dead to their silence.