The Battle of Asculum

The morning sun cast long shadows over the battlefield.

Pyrrhus stood at the head of his army, his war elephants waiting behind him, their massive forms casting fear into the hearts of his enemies.

Across the field, the Romans stood ready, their ranks unbroken, their spears glinting in the sunlight.

The battle began with a thunderous roar.

Pyrrhus led his cavalry, crashing into the Roman flanks with savage fury.

But the Romans had adapted.

They threw burning javelins at his elephants, forcing them into a frenzy.

One of the great beasts turned wildly, trampling Pyrrhus's own men.

The battle dragged on for hours, blood soaking the ground.

By nightfall, the Romans finally withdrew.

Pyrrhus stood in the center of the battlefield, victorious once again.

But as he looked around at the mountains of dead, he knew the truth.

Echecrates approached, breathing heavily.

"We have won," he said.

Pyrrhus's voice was hollow.

"Another victory like this… and we are finished."