For a tense moment, no one moved. The Germanic warriors held their disciplined formation, clearly waiting for Lucius to make the first offensive move. It was a tactically sound approach—forcing the lone opponent to commit against an established defensive stance.
Lucius recognized the strategy and deliberately refused to fall into the obvious trap. Instead of charging recklessly, he began to circle slowly, forcing the three to constantly adjust their position to maintain an effective formation.
The crowd initially responded with impatience at the lack of immediate confrontation, but gradually began to appreciate the tactical tension developing—the lone predator methodically testing the defenses of prey that, collectively, represented a superior threat.
In the noble box, Gallo commented loudly:
"See how he hesitates! He realizes now he's facing real warriors, not gladiators trained to lose gracefully!"
"Or perhaps he's demonstrating exceptional tactical prudence," countered Governor Appius from his seat near the Senator. "Assessing before committing is the mark of an experienced warrior, not a coward."
"Boredom!" Julia Porcia exclaimed dramatically. "We came to see blood, not cautious dancing!"
"Patience, dear," replied Livia with an enigmatic smile. "The best fights begin with strategy, not brute force."
Young Porcius, unlike his impatient sister, watched each movement with intense interest, occasionally jotting notes on a small wax tablet. "Fascinating approach," he murmured to no one in particular. "Forcing constant adaptation, eroding initial coordination. Rarely seen in conventional gladiators."
After nearly a full minute of this cautious dance, the older warrior apparently lost patience. He barked a harsh command in his tribal tongue, and the three advanced simultaneously in a coordinated attack—the central spearman engaging directly while the two younger ones flanked from opposite sides.
This was exactly the type of multi-pronged assault Lucius had anticipated and trained to face. Instead of retreating defensively, he executed a maneuver refined during his sessions with Atticus—an explosive diagonal advance that simultaneously avoided the central thrust and disrupted the flanking coordination.
The move visibly surprised the Germans, who clearly expected a conventional defensive reaction. The axe-wielder, momentarily isolated by the unexpected movement, became the immediate target.
Lucius struck with surgical precision—not a direct, easily blocked blow, but a series of rapid feints and targeted attacks to vulnerable points: knees, weapon arm, the junction of neck and shoulder. He wasn't seeking an immediate kill, but a methodical dismantling of combat capability.
The German defended with surprising skill but couldn't fully avoid the complex combination. One thrust partially pierced his right shoulder, significantly impairing his ability to wield the heavy axe.
The crowd roared in approval at the first blood, while animated commentary erupted among the nobles:
"First blood!" cried a young admirer from Julia's entourage. "Brilliant move!"
"Mere momentary luck," insisted Gallo, though his face had gone slightly pale. "The Germans are simply assessing his style before a decisive counterattack."
"Extraordinarily precise technique," noted Tribune Cornelius to the Senator. "Observe how he specifically targeted the shoulder joint, not the torso or neck. Remarkable economy of effort."
"Not standard gladiatorial technique," young Porcius observed, narrowing his eyes in concentration. "More of a... clinical approach. Almost militarily efficient."
Lucius had already repositioned, anticipating an immediate counterattack from the remaining two. The spearman advanced with controlled ferocity, executing a flurry of thrusts to keep Lucius at bay while the third warrior circled for a lateral attack. Their coordination confirmed significant experience in group combat—this clearly wasn't their first time fighting together.
Lucius strategically retreated toward one of the decorative columns, using it as partial cover from the spear while focusing on the opponent with sword and shield. The confined space between the column and arena wall neutralized the attackers' numerical advantage, forcing them to approach at less favorable angles.
Combat intensified quickly. The sword-and-shield warrior pressed a frontal assault while the spearman circled the column to regain a better position. The third, still recovering from his shoulder wound, held back momentarily.
Lucius allowed the shield-bearer to close in, appearing to retreat under pressure. It was a deliberate feint, calibrated to provoke overconfidence. When the German advanced for a decisive blow, Lucius executed a perfectly timed counter—a minimal lateral dodge followed by a precise thrust that found the narrow space between shield and body.
The blade pierced the exposed flank, not deep enough for an instant kill, but inflicting a debilitating wound that left the man staggering. The crowd erupted in frenzied approval at the sight of a second opponent compromised in under two minutes of combat.
In the noble seats, tension was palpable. Gallo's face had drained of all color, while Quintus could barely contain a victorious smile. Julia Porcia applauded enthusiastically, though her excitement seemed more drawn from the violence than from who was winning. Young Porcius had abandoned his tablet altogether, eyes locked on Lucius with unsettling intensity.
"Extraordinary," he murmured. "Almost as if he can anticipate each move before it happens..."
The spearman, recognizing the shift in combat dynamics, changed tactics. Instead of direct attack, he began rhythmic spear movements—advancing and retreating in a hypnotic pattern, the weapon tip tracing fluid arcs in the air.
It was a sophisticated technique Lucius had never seen in person, clearly designed to induce misjudgment of timing and distance. His eyes tracked the pattern, attempting to decode its underlying rhythm.
At this critical moment of intense concentration, the wounded axe warrior suddenly reentered the fight, hurling his axe in a low horizontal arc aimed at Lucius' legs. It wasn't intended to kill, but to force a defensive reaction that would compromise his focus on the spearman.
The strategy nearly worked. Lucius detected the flying weapon peripherally, forcing a defensive leap that momentarily broke his stance. The spearman instantly capitalized, lunging forward in a direct thrust.
By the narrowest margin, Lucius managed to deflect the primary strike with his shield, but the spearhead still sliced across his left thigh in a shallow cut. First blood against him, drawing renewed excitement from a crowd that relished the dramatic reversal.
"Finally!" Gallo exclaimed, regaining confidence. "Now we'll see the true nature of this supposed champion when faced with real adversity!"
"Only a superficial cut," observed the Tribune with apparent disinterest, though his eyes remained intensely focused on the arena.
"It's not the wound itself," young Porcius commented, leaning forward. "It's the response that will reveal his true nature."
Lucius quickly retreated to regain safe distance and reassess. The opponent with the flank wound was significantly impaired but still dangerous. The spearman remained the greatest threat—skilled and disciplined. The third, though disarmed of his primary weapon, now advanced again, a secondary dagger drawn from his boot.
The numerical advantage persisted, demanding a decisive solution. As the trio regrouped for a renewed coordinated assault, Lucius shifted to a more aggressive strategy.
Instead of allowing them to reestablish an effective formation, he explosively charged the most injured warrior—not a calculated, technical strike, but a brutal lunge aimed at immediate elimination. The sudden aggression surprised both his opponents and the crowd, which roared at the direct assault.
The wounded German attempted a desperate defense, but his mobility was too compromised. Lucius exploited the vulnerability with lethal efficiency—a rapid sequence of strikes culminating in a deep stab to the exposed neck.
Blood arced in crimson as the warrior collapsed. One opponent eliminated. Two remained.
Without pause, Lucius pivoted toward the disarmed opponent, seeking to dispatch the second threat before the spearman could effectively intervene.
But the disarmed German displayed surprising agility. Rather than retreat, he surged forward into close-quarters combat—a bold tactic that partially nullified the advantage of Lucius' sword.
They collided with bone-jarring force. The German was unexpectedly strong, grabbing Lucius' sword arm while trying to drive the dagger into his ribs. Lucius responded with a direct headbutt to the nose, followed by a knee to the solar plexus.
The double impact made the German stumble back, but not before delivering a shallow slash to Lucius' forearm. Fresh blood ran down his arm, mingling with sweat and dust.
The situation worsened as the spearman rejoined the fray, forcing Lucius to divide his attention between two attackers from separate angles. Now at the center of the arena, he was fully exposed with no architectural cover left to exploit.
It was at this moment of maximum pressure that the unthinkable occurred.
The dagger-wielding warrior, temporarily pushed back by the headbutt, suddenly threw sand into Lucius' eyes—a tactic strictly forbidden in standard Roman arenas, but perfectly in line with the tribal savagery he embodied.
Partially blinded, Lucius instinctively fell back, shield raised while blinking furiously to restore vision. The crowd reacted with a mix of indignation and heightened excitement—the battle had now transcended a choreographed spectacle and entered the realm of genuine danger.
The spearman wasted no time, lunging in a decisive attack. Operating almost entirely on instinct and peripheral awareness, Lucius managed to angle his shield just enough to deflect most of the thrust.
The spear still pierced the edge of the shield, embedding itself and stopping inches from his chest. The spearman yanked violently to free it, but the tip remained briefly stuck in the shield's frame.
In this critical moment, with vision still blurred and the spear temporarily immobilized, Lucius sensed a fleeting opportunity. He advanced against the spear's resistance, closing the gap between himself and his opponent while simultaneously trapping the enemy's primary weapon.
The maneuver visibly surprised the German, who had expected retreat, not a sudden charge. Before he could adapt, Lucius was inside the effective range of the spear, swinging his sword in a lateral arc aimed at the exposed neck.
The spearman managed to avoid full decapitation with a reflexive twist, but the blade still sliced deep into his shoulder and neck. The jet of blood indicated a major artery had been at least partially severed.
As the spearman staggered back, Lucius suddenly felt a heavy impact to the back of his head—the third warrior had circled around and struck him with a rock or blunt object.
The blow was devastating. His already-compromised vision exploded in flashes of light and partial darkness. Balance vanished, his knees buckled, the world spinning in a chaotic spiral.
It was in this moment of extreme vulnerability that something extraordinary occurred in his mind.
Like a sped-up film running in fragmented loops, images suddenly flooded his consciousness:
...snow falling over dark forest... men in camouflage moving silently... harsh voices giving commands in Russian... heavy automatic weapons in gloved hands... the cold feel of metal against skin...
"Setka!"
The guttural voice of a Soviet instructor echoed with shocking clarity:
"When you lose consciousness, use pain as an anchor! Pain awakens the body, restores clarity!"
The memories surged like an avalanche:
...a training camp in the Ural mountains... Spetsnaz recruits shivering in thin uniforms beneath relentless snow... the instructor demonstrating techniques to recover awareness after cranial trauma...
"Controlled pain to restore lucidity! Technique developed by Soviet special ops for extreme conditions! Bite your tongue! Force regulated breathing! Neural redirection through intense sensory input!"
Simultaneously, another set of memories surfaced—disjointed fragments of the original Lucius:
...sunlit villa courtyard... a child playing with a dog as a man in fine tunic watched, smiling... "Careful, son, don't run so close to the fountain!"... a large hand holding tiny fingers... the feeling of absolute safety...
The memories collided and merged as Lucius fought to recover functional awareness. Instinctively, he applied the remembered technique—biting his tongue with calculated force while forcing his breath into a precise pattern.
The sharp pain acted as a neural anchor, restoring partial clarity. His vision returned in fragments, his balance partially restored.
Just in time to see the tribal warrior advancing for a finishing blow with the dagger.