Nights in the ludus passed in a cycle of suffering and superficial recovery. Days were a hell of training under Capua's sun, and nights were for licking wounds and confronting nightmares. Thomas endured, driven by the brutal routine and the understanding that every day he survived was a small victory.
Amidst the suffering, a bond began to form. Varro, the Roman man who became a gladiator due to debt, often sat near Thomas when they cleaned equipment or ate their meager evening rations. He didn't have Crixus's arrogance or the guards' cruelty. He was an ordinary man trapped in an extraordinary situation.
"My wife... she doesn't even know I'm here," Varro said one night, his voice soft and full of longing as he stared at the dark cell wall. "She thinks I'm working in the mines up north. Better that way. I don't want her to imagine..." He didn't finish his sentence.
Thomas simply nodded, understanding. "You're doing it to protect her."
Varro looked at Thomas, a surprised expression on his face. "You understand. Most new recruits are just filled with anger and fear. But you... you observe."
This was where their friendship began. Over shared suffering and a silent understanding that they both had something to fight for beyond the ludus walls.
Thomas's Intelligence of 7 not only helped him survive training but also turned him into a sharp observer. He began to map the ludus ecosystem. He saw how Doctore gave instructions, how Batiatus came with his false smiles, how Ashur was always in a corner, listening.
And he saw Naevia.
She was Lucretia's personal slave, always moving around the Domina like a graceful, fearful shadow. She was beautiful, but it wasn't her beauty that caught Thomas's attention. It was her interactions, or lack thereof, with others. She was almost invisible.
Then, Thomas saw it. A brief, stolen glance when no one was looking, directed at Crixus. A small smile from the Champion of Capua when he thought no one was noticing, directed at Naevia. It lasted only a second, but for Thomas, it was enough. His modern brain, accustomed to reading body language and subtle cues, instantly connected the dots.
They have a relationship, he thought. Instantly, Naevia's value in his eyes changed. She wasn't just a personal slave. She was the weakness of the strongest man in this ludus. She was a Category 2. +0.01 Points. Ten times what he'd gained before.
But the risk was immense. Approaching her meant placing himself between two major powers: Lucretia, her cruel mistress, and Crixus, her fiercely jealous lover. This wasn't just a transaction in the dark. This was a move on a dangerous chessboard.
The opportunity came a few days later. Lucretia was entertaining guests, and the ludus was bustling. Thomas saw Naevia exit the kitchen, carrying an empty tray, heading to the washing area in the back. For a moment, she was alone.
This was his chance. His heart pounded. He walked closer, trying to look as casual as possible.
"Excuse me," he said in a low voice.
Naevia startled, almost dropping her tray. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw a gladiator approach her. "Y-yes?"
Thomas offered a small smile that he hoped looked friendly, not threatening. "I just wanted to ask. I saw you give extra water to one of the injured new recruits yesterday. That was... a kind act. Rare to see in this place."
He didn't ask. He praised. A small act of kindness he'd witnessed a few days ago. He gambled on it.
Naevia's tense face softened slightly. She hadn't expected that. "He... he reminded me of my brother," she whispered, her eyes darting around nervously.
"I understand," Thomas said softly. "Having someone to remember can be a strength."
That was all. A brief conversation. An acknowledgment of her kindness. He had planted a seed. He had shown that he wasn't just another beast like the others.
As Naevia gave him a small, hesitant smile, a large shadow fell over them.
"What is going on here?" The heavy, suspicious voice made Thomas's blood run cold. Crixus stood there, a few steps away, his brow furrowed. He hadn't seen their conversation, but he saw them standing close.
Naevia turned pale. "Nothing, Champion. I was just... working." She bowed quickly and hurried away, disappearing around the corner.
Thomas was left alone, facing the sharp gaze of the Champion of Capua. Crixus said nothing more. He just stared Thomas up and down, a clear promise of threat in his eyes. Then, he turned and walked away.
Thomas let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had succeeded. He had made contact. But in doing so, he had just painted a huge target on his back, right under the champion's jealous gaze.
The next day, the air in the training yard felt different. The tension was so thick Thomas felt he could touch it. He tried to avoid Crixus's gaze, but he could feel the champion's eyes on him, a heavy weight laden with unspoken threats. Varro, sensing the situation, stayed close to Thomas, a presence that offered a small amount of moral support.
"Be careful," Varro whispered as they warmed up. "You've woken a sleeping lion."
Thomas could only nod, his throat dry.
After an exhausting warm-up session, Doctore gathered the recruits and some lower-tier gladiators. "Today," he boomed, "you will learn the meaning of true combat. You will pair up and fight. This is not a fight to the death, but if you do not show spirit, I myself will send you to the afterlife."
A mixture of fear and anticipation spread among the recruits. This was a chance to prove themselves.
Doctore began to pair up the gladiators. Then, he paused and looked at Crixus, who stood haughtily on the edge of the arena, not included in the usual training. "Champion," Doctore said, "perhaps you would like to give one of these worms a lesson. Choose."
A cruel, anticipatory smile played on Crixus's lips. His eyes went straight to one person, ignoring the others as if they didn't exist.
"I choose him," Crixus said, his finger pointing directly at Thomas.
The entire yard fell silent. Even the senior gladiators paused, understanding what was about to happen. This wasn't training. This was a public execution. Varro looked at Thomas anxiously, his face pale.
Thomas felt his blood run cold. He had no choice. With heavy steps, he walked to the center of the arena, picking up a wooden sword and a small shield. Across from him, Crixus did the same, his movements relaxed and confident.
"Begin!" Doctore roared.
Crixus didn't wait. He charged forward like an enraged bull. His first attack was an overhead swing so powerful that Thomas could hear the wind whistle. Thomas instinctively raised his shield.
CRACK!
The impact sent a violent tremor through his arm, leaving it numb. The thin wooden shield instantly cracked. Crixus's Strength (STR) was far beyond anything he could imagine.
Thomas was driven back several steps, trying to maintain his balance. Crixus grinned. "Is that all you have, worm?"
The next attacks came in rapid succession. Left, right, up, down. Thomas could do nothing but dodge and parry desperately. He had no chance to attack. He was like a small boat tossed in a storm. Each parry made his arm ache more. Each near-miss made his heart stop.
He used his Agility (AGI 4) to its maximum, ducking and rolling, trying to exhaust Crixus's stamina. But Crixus was a monster. His breathing remained steady, while Thomas was already gasping for air.
A heavy blow landed on his leg, sending him to his knees. Before he could get up, Crixus kicked him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. Thomas coughed, tasting iron in his mouth. Blood.
"Stand," Crixus snarled, standing over him. "I'm not finished with you."
With the last of his strength, fueled by the hard-won Stamina (STA 3.001) he'd acquired, Thomas forced himself up. He had to stand. Falling meant death.
Doctore watched from the sidelines, his face expressionless. He allowed the slaughter to continue. This was the law of the ludus.
Crixus attacked again, this time slower, as if savoring every moment. He hit Thomas's shoulder, then his stomach, each blow designed to torment, not to end the fight. Thomas could only take it, his body screaming in pain.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a last swing struck the side of Thomas's head. The world spun and he fell to the sand for the last time, his consciousness beginning to fade.
"Enough," Doctore's voice finally cut through, firm and final.
Crixus stood over Thomas's prone body. He bent down, his face inches from Thomas's. "Stay away from what's not yours, worm," he hissed, his voice low so only Thomas could hear. "Or next time, Doctore won't be able to stop me."
With that final threat, Crixus turned and walked away haughtily, leaving Thomas battered and bloody in the center of the arena.
Varro was the first to run to his side, helping him sit up. "You're still alive," Varro said, more to himself than to Thomas.
Thomas could only groan in pain. He survived, yes. But Crixus's message had been received very clearly. Naevia was off-limits. And he had just paid the first price for daring to glance at the champion's property.