The first target of Spartacus's attack was the gladiator with the shield.
The gladiators struggled to react as Spartacus closed the distance with terrifying speed.
Thud!
The gladiator who raised his shield was thrown back with a deafening roar.
He hit the ground hard, rolling across the sand, gasping for breath.
Seeing one of their own incapacitated so quickly, the gladiator with twin swords shouted urgently, "Don't face his sword head-on! Dodge at all costs!"
"Easy for you to say! Look at his speed!"
Before they could regroup, Spartacus was already on the move again.
The gladiator in armor, believing in his armor's protection, made an attempt to counter with a thrust.
However, Spartacus was quick to respond. He pulled his sword back and twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the armored gladiator's attack. As he rotated, he delivered a powerful kick to the gladiator's abdomen.
Bang!
The armored gladiator's face contorted in pain. The blow was so forceful that, had he not been wearing armor, it might have ruptured his intestines and killed him instantly. The impact caused him to drop his weapon and collapse to his knees.
Spartacus then struck the kneeling gladiator in the temple with his fist. The armored gladiator, severely injured, fell back unconscious.
Meanwhile, the twin swordsman, trying to fend off Spartacus, hurled curses at his hapless ally. "You fool! That's why I said not to face him alone!"
Unable to effectively use his sword, the twin swordsman found himself outmatched.
Desperate, he attempted a horizontal slash, but Spartacus's sword came down with overwhelming force.
In mere moments, the twin swords were rendered useless. Spartacus's power had reached a level that seemed almost superhuman.
Clang! Clang!
The final gladiator, wielding the only sword left, looked on in despair. His face reflected shock and disbelief at Spartacus's sheer strength. He had hoped that their combined efforts would be sufficient, but it was clear now that this was a grave miscalculation.
"Such a monster...!"
Despite the overwhelming offense, the leader of the Claudius gladiator training school was determined to find a way to counterattack.
A flash of light appeared in Spartacus's eyes as he delivered a fierce thrust with his sword.
Swoosh!
The confrontation ended with a ghastly sound. Spartacus's sword, having sliced through the opponent's blade, flowed diagonally with deadly precision.
This was the decisive blow that concluded the fight.
"Ugh!"
Red blood gushed from the mouth of the gladiator, who let out a final moan. It wasn't an instant death, but it was a fatal wound that rendered him unable to continue. He fell to one knee, staggered, and then collapsed face-first into the sand.
Spartacus walked forward unconcernedly. Ahead of him, a gladiator was struggling to lift the shield he had earlier blasted away.
As Spartacus closed in, the shield-wielding gladiator attempted to rise. Spartacus, seemingly anticipating the timing perfectly, moved with lightning speed.
The gladiator, seeing Spartacus right in front of him, tried to retreat, but Spartacus was too quick. He surged forward and delivered a powerful punch.
Wham!
The gladiator's broken teeth flew out, and his body was sent crashing backward. The impact was so forceful it seemed to have struck him with lightning.
The Claudius training camp gladiators were no ordinary fighters; they were among the best, second only to the Batiatus training camp, which produced Crixus and Spartacus. Even among the veterans of Capua, fewer than twenty matched the skill of Claudius's top gladiators.
Spartacus easily defeated all three of these formidable gladiators and stood proudly.
"Waaaaaaa!"
"You're the best!"
The crowd erupted into cheers that shook the amphitheater. The defeated gladiators were carried away on stretchers, and the host waved a flag, extolling Spartacus's victory.
The audience, still buzzing from the intense match, continued to discuss the spectacle.
Nearby aristocrats around Marcus were animatedly chatting and gesticulating.
Danae, visibly overwhelmed, grasped the hem of Marcus's clothes and said, "Wow... What a beast of a warrior. I can't believe it's the same person."
"Yes," Marcus replied. "Seeing it firsthand, I can understand why the rumors spread. In fact, it feels like the rumors didn't fully capture the reality."
"This is the first time I've seen someone move like that," Danae added.
"Me too. He exceeded all my expectations." Marcus now understood how Spartacus could rally his gladiators and challenge the Roman regular army. With such skill, it made sense why he could lead tens of thousands of slaves.
He was convinced.
"If Spartacus's skill is this exceptional, it's worth pursuing the plan." And regardless of the plan, Marcus genuinely wanted to acquire this warrior. "Alright, I've decided. We need to discuss this today."
"Discuss with whom?" Danae asked.
"With Spartacus, of course. Septimus, go inform the presenter that I'd like to meet Spartacus. If necessary, offer him some money."
"Understood."
Septimus promptly left with a sack of silver coins to arrange the meeting.
Soon, Septimus returned to his seat as the nobles around Marcus were beginning to leave.
"They need time to prepare, so they said a meeting would be possible around the evening. Will that work for you?"
"That's fine. We'll need time to prepare as well. Just let them know to take their time. I understand their interest," Marcus replied.
"I'll inform you once they set a specific time."
Marcus, of course, was skeptical of the excuse about needing time to prepare. The real reason was likely to investigate why the eldest son of the Crassus family wanted to meet Spartacus. Still, Marcus was willing to give them some time.
He watched Spartacus until he disappeared into the dark waiting room, his once-splendid appearance now seeming almost desolate as the excitement of the match faded.
—-------
Marcus's intuition was correct.
Lentulus Batiatus, head of the Batiatus gladiator training camp, was furiously shaking his head.
"Why would Crassus want to see Spartacus?"
The presenter, having heard from Septimus, responded calmly, "I heard that Crassus became a fan after being impressed by Spartacus's performance. He just wants to meet him and talk."
"That's a shallow reason. The Crassus family is wealthy and influential. Could they be trying to steal Spartacus from us?"
"Ah, I doubt they would go to such lengths for a slave."
"Rumor has it that the Crassus family will do anything for money. To them, Spartacus might seem like a golden goose."
"Hmm... But isn't that true for us as well?"
Batiatus gave a bitter smile. The presenter was correct. Batiatus viewed his gladiators as assets that generated profit.
In that era, finding a good gladiator training center was challenging. The Batiatus training camp was particularly harsh on its gladiators, mainly because there was no shortage of prisoners of war to use. If one gladiator died, another could easily replace him. Those who didn't become seasoned veterans were not treated with any humanity.
"If the Crassus family demands Spartacus, should I just let him go?" Batiatus wondered.
"Why? Aren't slaves the property of their masters? Just refuse to sell him," the presenter suggested.
"That might work if we're dealing with someone of equal strength. But if the Crassus family applies financial pressure, we might not be able to hold our ground. Besides, Crassus is a strong candidate for this year's judicial elections. His term as a judicial officer starts next year. We'd be foolish to alienate someone with both power and wealth."
"True. If the wealthiest man in Rome becomes a judge, we'd be in a difficult position."
The Praetor was one of the most crucial positions in Rome, responsible for maintaining public order and justice. It was, in fact, the second most important role in Rome after the Consul, the highest official.
If someone like that decided to turn against you and start seizing property, the owner of a mediocre gladiator training center wouldn't stand a chance.
Batiatus sighed and shook his head. "For now, until we understand their true intentions, we'll have to handle it this way."
"That's right. We should avoid doing anything that might provoke them."
"I'll need to give Spartacus a strong warning. I don't want him making any mistakes."
—-------
Batiatus summoned Spartacus and made it clear several times that he must remain calm and not act rudely.
Spartacus sneered, finding the situation amusing. "It's astonishing. You, who are so high-handed with us, want me to play the role of a meek lamb in front of the Roman nobles?"
"Don't be sarcastic. Just follow my instructions: remain composed, avoid any disrespect, and make sure to tell me what the young noble wants."
"It's not a difficult task."
"If you don't follow my orders, you... No, the rookie gladiators who follow you will face severe consequences."
Spartacus's brows furrowed, and he glared at Batiatus with intense anger. But he soon calmed down and bit his lip. "Are you really going to go on with this? Shouldn't you be punishing me if I do something wrong?"
"I can't do that. You and Crixus are my best assets. I can't afford to damage my valuable goods."
Spartacus had no further response to Batiatus's smug remarks.
If he rebelled, Batiatus would likely punish the other gladiators, as he had done before. Once, a young gladiator who followed Spartacus had been fed to a tiger for similar reasons. Batiatus's threats were never idle.
Spartacus placed a hand on his forehead and sighed deeply. "I'll do as you say. Just make sure the other gladiators are fed today."
"I'll consider it based on how things unfold. Now that you know your position, go and fulfill your duty. I don't want to keep an important guest waiting."
Spartacus stood up and left the room without further comment. It was a bitter compromise, but it was the best resistance he could manage.
—-------
As he approached the room where Marcus awaited, Spartacus took a deep breath to control his seething rage.
His eyes burned with hatred as he looked at his trembling fists. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "Damn Roman bastards..."
Rome had taken everything from him. His hometown was destroyed, and the woman he had vowed to protect for life was sold into slavery.
Rome had stripped him of everything he tried to preserve.
Spartacus loathed everything associated with Rome—the audience in the arena, Batiatus, the owner of the gladiator training camp, and the presenter who fawned over himself with flattering words.
The same disdain extended to the young nobleman he was about to meet.
When that young nobleman grew up, he too would become a ruthless figure like his ancestors.
Spartacus wondered what kind of proposal the noble would make. He had no idea how this meeting would alter his future or what changes it would bring.
At that moment, Spartacus was unaware of how his life was about to shift.
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