Morning came too quickly. Ulixes woke up with every inch of his body screaming. The Doctore's punishment from last night was no illusion. He forced himself to sit up, pain searing through his welts.
When the recruits were led to the training grounds, the atmosphere felt different. The whispers stopped when Ulixes passed by. Their gazes were no longer those of a weak prey, but of something they did not understand. Something dangerous.
Crixus stood in the middle of the field, his eyes locked on Ulixes. The hatred in them was so thick it seemed to burn the air between them. He did not move, but his promise to kill Ulixes was felt in every tense muscle.
Oenomaus struck a shield with his wooden sword, the sound deafening. "Training begins!"
Ulixes took a wooden sword, his hands feeling stiff. The pain from last night made him slow. He had to overcome it. Subtle Regeneration.
[SUBTLE REGENERATION ACTIVATED. Uses Remaining Today: 1/2]
The familiar warmth crept under his skin, dulling the sharp edge of the pain. Enough to let him move properly. Today's training felt brutal, but Ulixes endured it. He kept his head down, avoided eye contact with Crixus, and focused on one thing: survival.
Midday, the training was suddenly halted. Quintus Lentulus Batiatus appeared on the balcony of his villa, a wide smile on his face. By his side, an elegant noblewoman, Lucretia, watched with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Gladiators!" Batiatus' voice boomed, full of false pride. "Today, a blessing has been bestowed upon our house! An opportunity for greater glory!"
Guards dragged a man to the center of the field. His body was covered in wounds, his hair long and disheveled, but his eyes burned with a defiant fire. Ulixes recognized him from the rumors circulating in the cells, the Thracian who had survived an execution in the arena a few days ago.
"Look at this man!" Batiatus exclaimed. "Sentenced to death, yet refusing to submit! He fought four gladiators and emerged victorious! The crowd shouted his name, and the gods granted him life!"
Batiatus paused for a moment, letting the tension build. "They named him... Spartacus!"
The name echoed. Some gladiators murmured, others stared with interest. But one person reacted with unconcealed rage. Crixus spat on the ground, his gaze full of contempt.
Ulixes observed the new man. Spartacus. There was something different about him. Not just physical strength, but a will that radiated from his gaze. The same will that had enabled Ulixes to get up again and again in front of the Doctore.
"Oenomaus!" Batiatus commanded from above. "Test him. Show everyone whether he is worthy of bearing our brotherhood's mark, or if his victory was merely a fluke."
The Doctore stepped forward, looking Spartacus up and down. "You may have fooled the crowd. But here, you must fool death itself. Crixus! Show this new recruit what it means to be a gladiator."
Crixus stepped forward with a savage sneer. This was a chance to vent his anger, to reassert his dominance that Ulixes had momentarily shaken.
Spartacus, however, did not move. He looked at the wooden sword offered to him with disgust. "I am not a gladiator," he said, his voice calm yet firm.
Oenomaus raised an eyebrow. "Here, you are what we say you are."
As the Doctore turned, Spartacus suddenly snatched the wooden sword and attacked. His movements were fast and wild, driven by desperation. But Crixus was ready. He parried the attack with ease, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. The fight was brutal and short. Crixus toyed with Spartacus, knocking him down, then letting him get up only to be knocked down again.
Ulixes watched everything in silence. He saw the flaws in every one of Spartacus's movements—blind rage, lack of technique. But he also saw a terrifying raw potential.
The fight ended when Crixus kicked Spartacus to fall face down at Oenomaus' feet. The champion raised his sword, ready to deliver the final humiliating blow.
"Enough," Batiatus said from the balcony, sounding bored. "He has spirit. Train him."
Crixus lowered his weapon reluctantly, spat near Spartacus's head before walking away. The hierarchy had been reestablished, at least for now.
Ulixes looked at Spartacus lying on the ground, then at the arrogant Crixus, and at the smiling Batiatus above. The foundation of this ludus had just been shaken. A wild new force had arrived, and the old champion felt threatened.
A cold thought crossed Ulixes' mind. This was no longer just about surviving day to day. It was a power game that had just begun.
Weeks passed in a haze of blood and sweat. The training grounds became a boiling cauldron. On one side, Crixus, the champion with a wounded ego, trained with cold fury, pushing his followers to the limit. On the other side, Spartacus, with his wild defiance, drew the sympathy of slaves who hated their chains.
Ulixes placed himself in the middle, taking no sides. He used Subtle Regeneration every morning to recover his body from the previous day's torment, and Power Surge occasionally in training to show a progression that seemed natural yet extraordinary. Oenomaus watched him with an unreadable, sharp gaze, while Crixus only gave him a hateful look that promised death. Ulixes ignored them both. His focus had shifted from just surviving to seeking opportunities.
That opportunity came in the form of Batiatus's greed.
Seeing the potential for profit from the new rivalry in his ludus, Batiatus decided to hold a private reception. The richest nobles of Capua were invited to witness the "promising new talents" and, of course, to place private bets or order exclusive fights.
That night, the best gladiators were ordered to bathe and oil their bodies. They would be displayed like living statues for the guests. Ulixes, due to his strange reputation—the recruit who took down Crixus and survived the Doctore—was chosen to stand in the front row.
The pungent aroma of expensive wine and perfume filled the villa's air, a stark contrast to the musty smell of the barracks. Roman nobles, men and women, walked among the gladiators, staring at them with a mix of lust and contempt. Ulixes held his breath, keeping his expression blank. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a target.
And there she was. Lucretia.
Batiatus' wife moved among her guests with the grace of a snake. Her silk dress hugged her curves, and her smile was a perfect mask that concealed the ambition in her eyes. Ulixes knew from their brief interaction that this woman was a center of power in this house, just like her husband. She was a gateway to a world that could not be reached from the arena.
She is the first, a cold decision formed in his mind. The Legacy System was his only way out, and Lucretia was the first key.
Lucretia stopped in front of the line, her eyes sweeping over Crixus with a possessive gaze, then shifting to Spartacus with sharp interest. Finally, her gaze fell on Ulixes. There was a glint of curiosity there. She remembered this man. The one who had caused a commotion.
This was the moment. Only one chance per day.
Subtle Influence, Ulixes commanded in his mind, focusing his entire intention on Lucretia.
[SUBTLE INFLUENCE ACTIVATED ON TARGET: LUCRETIA] [Uses Remaining Today: 0/1]
There was no flash of light or sound. Just an invisible wave of energy that shot from Ulixes toward her. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Ulixes saw it. A very subtle change. The corner of Lucretia's lips softened slightly. The sharpness in her eyes dimmed a little, replaced by something more... open. More receptive.
She began to see him as something intriguing. Something worth investigating further.
"Batiatus, my husband," Lucretia called out, her voice sounding softer than usual, yet still audible to everyone nearby. Her eyes never left Ulixes. "Champions and former champions we have seen often. But this one..."
She stepped forward, approaching Ulixes until he could feel the warmth of the woman's body. Her slender fingers reached out and touched a scar on Ulixes' arm. The touch made the guards tense, but Lucretia did not care.
"He has a different story," she whispered, more to herself. She raised her head, looking directly into Ulixes' eyes. "I want to hear his story."
Lucretia turned to her husband. "Bring him inside after the guests leave."