The roar of the Roman crowd shook the air. Dust swirled under the morning sun, and the scent of sweat, sand, and dried blood filled the small arena.
James leaned against the balcony railing, his eyes fixed on the two figures standing in the center of the pit.
Varro. His first gladiator. His first warrior. His first test.
Across from him stood a massive Gaul, his chest bare, muscles rippling with every breath. The man grinned, slamming his axe against his shield, mocking his opponent.
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena.
"VARRO! SLAVE OF THE NEWLY ARRIVED PATRON JAMES STONE—VERSUS RUFUS, VETERAN OF TWENTY BATTLES!"
The crowd erupted. Cheers, jeers, and the unmistakable hunger for blood and violence.
James's fingers curled against the marble railing. He could feel Felix Cornelius watching him, smirking from the noble stands nearby.
"This is it. Win… and I take my first step to power. Lose… and I'll be laughed out of Rome."
Angela stood beside him, hands clasped together in worry. "Master, can he win?"
James didn't answer.
Because in this moment, even he wasn't sure.
The horn blew sharply, signaling the start.
Rufus, the hulking Gaul, lunged first, his axe swinging in a brutal arc aimed to split Varro's skull.
The crowd gasped.
But Varro was fast.
He ducked, rolling to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly blade. Sand kicked up around him as he sprang to his feet, gladius poised.
Rufus laughed. "Fast, little man! Let's see if you can dance forever!"
He charged again, bringing his shield up high, aiming to slam Varro into the ground.
But this time, Varro didn't dodge.
He stepped in.
James's eyes widened.
"What is he—"
At the last moment, Varro twisted his body, slamming his shield low against Rufus's exposed knee.
CRACK!
The Gaul stumbled, roaring in pain!
The crowd exploded in shock—no one expected the slave to fight back so aggressively!
Varro didn't hesitate. He moved like a wolf striking wounded prey, slashing his gladius forward.
CLANG!
Rufus barely raised his axe in time, blocking the attack—but now, his movements were slower. Weaker.
James smirked.
"Varro isn't just fighting… he's hunting."
Felix Cornelius, watching from the noble stands, frowned slightly.
"This slave of yours… he's better than I expected," Felix muttered.
James didn't look away from the fight. "Of course he is."
Rufus staggered backward, blood dripping from a fresh wound on his leg. His chest heaved with exhaustion.
Varro, by contrast, stood tall, gladius steady in his grip. His breathing calm. His stance perfect.
James could see it in his eyes—Varro wasn't afraid.
He was in control.
Rufus, desperate, gave a final, wild charge, raising his axe for a reckless swing—
But Varro was faster.
In a blur, he sidestepped, pivoting behind Rufus in an instant.
SLASH!
Blood sprayed into the air.
The Gaul froze, his eyes wide with shock. His axe slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Then, with a slow, almost unwilling motion—he collapsed.
Dead.
The Aftermath – James Claims His First Victory
Silence.
For a single moment, the entire arena seemed to pause.
Then—
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"VARRO! VARRO!" they chanted, slamming fists against the wooden barriers.
James exhaled slowly, a smirk forming on his lips.
"That's it. My first win."
Angela, beside him, let out a relieved breath, clutching her chest. "Master… we did it."
James turned away from the railing, making his way toward the noble stands.
Felix Cornelius stood there, arms crossed, his smirk replaced with a calculating stare.
"Impressive," Felix admitted. "Most first-time gladiators don't survive their debut. But your Varro… he's different."
James nodded. "He is."
Felix studied him for a moment, then gestured to a nearby scribe.
"I suppose I owe you a share of the earnings," Felix said, handing James a pouch of gold coins.
[Beep! You have earned 300 gold coins!]
James's smirk widened.
"This is just the beginning."
Felix leaned closer. "Tell me, James… how many more slaves like Varro do you have?"
James met his gaze.
"As many as I need."
Felix chuckled. "Then we might have a profitable future together."
James turned, heading toward the arena gates where Varro awaited him.
"This was my first victory."
"But not my last."
"I will turn my slaves into warriors. I will make them gods of the arena."
"And with them… I will take Rome."