ã€ŠStats of the Arena: A Gladiator LITRPGã€‹


 Chapter 1: Opening the Pen

    ¡°Move it! Move it! Get out here, you dogs!¡± The slavers'' voice echoed around their small, cramped tunnel easily, and Attis knew he had no choice but to obey. Even if he wished to hold back and stay hidden within the small tunnel, the wave of bodies pushing him forward would make that difficult.

    Knowing his luck, he would end up trampled under the feet of the crowd, it was better to simply shuffle along with them and head towards the daylight. They had been in utter darkness for what felt like days, the warm of daylight was likely the only pleasure he or any of the men around him would get any time soon and so Attis couldn¡¯t fault them for rushing forward, even if he had an idea of the fate that awaited them.

    Death but in which form?

    He had heard the rumours, as had every man woman and child that lived within the empire''s reach and with everything he had experienced so far, Attis was beginning to believe them.

    They had been taken from half a dozen different regions and towns, beaten, starved and forced to march for countless weeks until finally they were thrown into a dark cell and later dragged out one by one for their enslavement. The empire''s mark of a proud eagle encircled by golden wreaths was burnt upon his neck, its soreness was something Attis could handle but the fact it had taken everything from his was a different matter entirely.

    My classes, titles, and levels, all stolen by this foul sorcery, enough to make a man feel empty.

    He had nothing of his old life but his name and with the blinding daylight getting ever closer, it was likely that to would end up lost.

    Fucking bastards, what kind of monsters does it take to sell your own kind. To sell men, women and children.

    A handful of men along with the women and children had been separated days before, leaving around a hundred or so men left, all simply waiting for their fates to be decided upon the auction block.

    But with the burning daylight getting ever closer and a faint cheering beginning to accompany it, a small feeling of dread began to rise within Attis. One clearly shared by his fellow prisoners given faint murmuring and panicked looks they shared.

    No one knew what fate truly awaited them, until finally Attis¡¯ feet stepped upon the sand outside, and his eyes once again grew accustomed to the sun.

    An arena.

    With his left arm raised to block out the scorching sun and his eyes squinting ever so slightly, Attis turned to truly examine the arena.

    Kind of lacklustre.

    The arena was barely a quarter of the size he had been expecting at perhaps fifty metres wide with only a small stone wall around its outside to prevent escape. It would certainly have prevented him from climbing out but given its deteriorating state, it was possible someone with a climbing skill could easily scale it. Combined with only one row of stone seating, it didn¡¯t give off the mighty visage he had been expecting.Stolen novel; please report.

    At the opposite end, Attis could just about make out another tunnel with what looked to be a small iron gate sealing it off. Whether it was closed shut, Attis couldn¡¯t be sure, not unless enough of the people ahead of him moved to the side.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so disappointed, this hole is simply to assess our value, if you survive you might get to be slaughtered out in one of the many colosseums of Rome. A glorious death.¡± Came a grizzled voice from Attis'' right.

    His words were easily enough to garner Attis¡¯ attention but before he could move to make conversation with the older bearded man, a booming voice commandeered the attention of them all.

    With the sun directly over his head, Attis could scarcely make out the man or those seated on the raised platform with him. At the minimum, he could tell that they were far better dressed than the rabble who littered the arena¡¯s seats and far above those trapped within its walls.

    Luxury toga¡¯s but doesn¡¯t seem that wealthy. Is he the leader of the group that captured us, I never saw his face before.

    Even now, Attis seemed destined never to meet the eyes of the one who had ripped him away from his life, but at least his voice would be edged into his mind forever.

    ¡°You are men of Illyria, Thrace and countless other shitholes barely worth mentioning. You have been mercifully brought before the mighty and glorious nation of Rome, so that your pitiful lives can finally be worth something. You will serve Rome by fighting in the arena to entertain its proud citizenry.¡± After a small look to judge the expressions of those still seated at his sides, the man continued.

    ¡°Most of you scum I expect will die but with the gods¡¯ blessings, some of you may arise victorious in the arena and emerge champions!¡± The small crowd around them erupted at his words as if attempting to make up for the stony silence of those below.

    ¡°But before your new masters can forge you into mighty gladiators, you must be bled. The foe before you will feast upon the weak, slaughter the old and raise the survivors into warriors ready for the arena. You will thrive upon these sands or die upon them. The choice is yours.¡± And with his speech coming to an end, the crowd once again erupted in cheers followed by quieter contained clapping from those seated upon the podium.

    The games have begun.

    The slavers'' words made their fates clear, and Attis was far from the only one who understood the immediate danger implied by them. They would be under attack and soon.

    A small thud from Attis'' left soon confirmed that fact as a handful of his fellow slaves rushed to collect the two swords that had been thrown down to them.

    Are we meant to fight each other?

    It was clear Attis wasn¡¯t the only one unsure of what to do next. Some of his fellows were separating themselves from the rest, others were huddled towards the back and a few of the braver ones moved to stand at the arena¡¯s centre.

    I think I see two from my village, should I stick with them.

    Before he could make that decision, he lost sight of them within the huddled mass of slaves and for a moment Attis did consider joining them, but first he had to try and assess his options.

    He could join the masses, huddle to the sides or join the handful at the centre. They did seem the most capable, with one standing out among the rest, he had short brown hair, an angular chiselled jaw and powerful muscles which only made the now bloody sword in his hands an even more dangerous weapon.

    But as the man turned to meet Attis¡¯ eyes, the idea of joining them vanished.

    He must have had combat classes. Definitely the last place I want to be if it¡¯s a free-for-all.

    The better option seemed to be staying where he was, far enough from the crowds but not so far that he couldn¡¯t rush back should the worse happen. It wasn¡¯t a strategy exclusive to simply him however, there were a few men simply stood around him in a variety of states, some nervous, some clearly fearful whilst others stood around calmly as if they had stopped caring what happened to them.

    Yet, the one who took Attis¡¯ attention the most was the older man from before, the greyed man was stood ready and waiting with a small pile of sand clasped tightly within his hand.

    Clever.

    Attis quickly rushed to copy, and not a second too soon, as a moment later, the sound of screeching metal erupted from the exit opposite him.

    Their opponent had arrived.

 Chapter 2: One Versus All

    That is no man.

    Their opponent didn¡¯t rush out to meet them or make some sort of dramatic entrance to earn the love of the crowd. No, all that greeted them from the dark tunnel ahead was a guttural chuffing sound as their opponent got closer and closer to the arena. Every single set of eyes was watching that gate with a keen focus, just waiting to finally get a glimpse of the beast. And it did not keep them waiting.

    The first part of it to emerge out of the shadows was a paw covered in a small layer of fur with five sharp claws puncturing into the ground. A second paw soon joined it and with the paws visible, the head followed. The beast had a reddish-brown appearance, a long snout, black nose and two keen eyes, all of which were encompassed by a thick shaggy mane of fur.

    It was clearly not daunted by the crowd watching it as a moment later, the remainder of its muscular four-legged body emerged from the shadows and with it a small tail wrapped within some kind of metallic slave collar.

    Once its entrance had been made and the threats seemingly assessed, the beast finally opened its mouth and revealed the powerful teeth held within.

    The fuck is that, not a chance I¡¯m fighting it without a weapon.

    With shouts and murmurs of terror erupting from the assembled slaves, Attis rushed to join the largest group. He would not be the first to fight it, nor in the first fifty if he had a choice in it.

    It could kill a man with ease, those claws, those teeth, we need a hunter or beast tamer class to kill it. Maybe if it gets worn down enough before it gets to me.

    Attis was keen not to fight the creature but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t going to watch it carefully, not only so he could keep as far away as possible but also to try and find some kind of weakness and learn how it killed.

    Something he didn¡¯t have to wait long to witness as within moments of the arena erupting in chaos, the beast charged. With speed surprising for its size, it rushed towards the right of the arena, leapt claws ready at a man desperately attempting to clamber out before ripping apart his back and layering the sand with his blood.

    If any of the assembled men had yet to gain a true fear of the beast, the horrific sound of the man¡¯s screams was definitely enough to give them one.

    Those screams could soon be ones of their own making, with not even the cheers of the crowd being enough to drown them out, those pained cries were only silenced when the man finally began to choke on the blood pooling around him.

    Fucking hell.

    With the first man slain, the rest were quick to group together, with seemingly every slave assembled in one huddle, Attis included. Soon enough they were all closely huddled towards one side, pushing against each other in a desperate attempt to put others between them and the encroaching beast.

    ¡°Fuck this and fuck the empire!¡± In a show of surprising bravery or terrified delusion, one of the men charged forward, fists raised. Attis doubted if the small man truly believed he could beat such a beast, but he admired the attempt even as the creature pounced forward and sunk its teeth into his neck, ending his life in a small spray of blood.

    A good death compared to the alternative.

    ¡°You? Your next!¡±

    It was the same man he had made eye contact with earlier; he had taken a fixed position near the front of the group and was dragging another man out of the huddle. The man was putting up a good fight but was simply too outmatched by the other man¡¯s strength. After only a small back and forth, the smaller man was thrown out in front, landing upon the sand with a small thud.

    He clearly understood what was happening and quickly attempted to run back to the group. Not that his retreat was met with anything but pushing arms and the pointed blade of the stronger man

    ¡°Go!¡±

    ¡°Please, not me, not alone.¡±

    The man¡¯s begging went utterly ignored by the man and whilst Attis noted some outrage from those still safe within the group, he didn¡¯t see any actually dare to voice their opposition.

    ¡°Go, I won¡¯t ask again.¡±

    The chosen man still seemed torn between his choices and after a second or two of pacing and nervous looks, he finally made a decision and ended up impaled upon the end of a blade for it.

    His body was disregarded without a care and a new man was dragged out to face the beast which had yet fully approach the larger group. Just like the dead man, the pleas of his next victim went ignored as well. But instead, of meeting the blade, he plucked up his courage and turned to face his foe.

    He has to know what will happen, is he sacrificing them to wear it down, or to avoid facing it himself?

    With every eye in the arena watching him, the long-haired man took a few slow shaky steps towards the monster, until finally he reached the halfway point between the group and his enemy.

    The entire arena had gone silent with anticipation and just as Attis had expected the man¡¯s courage broke and he ran toward the edge of the arena. His feet pounded upon the sand with a panicked speed that got him to the arena¡¯s gate a moment before the beast caught him. His body was slammed into its metal with a sickening crunch as yet another life was claimed by the arena.

    Another life stolen and one that too was applauded by the crowd of the arena.

    Surely, they can¡¯t be entertained by this, men simply being fed to a monster. The savages probably applaud any blood.

    Both Attis¡¯ hatred of the situation and fear of it had to be disregarded for now as yet more men were chosen to challenge the clawed menace. Five were hauled up from the crowd this time, all thrown to the sand and edged forward by the huddled group. Even outnumbering the beast, Attis didn¡¯t like their chances, that was until the second sword was thrown towards them.

    The sword was picked up by one of the men who even with a weapon didn¡¯t like his chances against the large armed man enough to try his luck.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen such an animal before.¡±

    ¡°You think it¡¯s some kind of monster.¡±

    ¡°Can it even be slain?¡±

    ¡°If it was truly unkillable, they would not have sent it to test us.¡±

    The group''s muttering was audible to all present, seemingly carried by the arena.

    ¡°If only I had my fucking skills, we might have a chance.¡±

    ¡°Unless you can magic them back, shut up and move to its side, attack from every angle.¡±

    It was a decent strategy, and one Attis couldn¡¯t criticise but just like all those assembled, he was keen to see how it turned out. Well, he would have been if the beast had let them carry it out, the second it realised they were attempting to enter its blind spot, it charged forward, catching one of the men¡¯s skulls within its jaws and splattering his brains upon the floor.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    A grotesque kill that caused both cheers from the crowd and retches from those facing a similar fate.

    ¡°Rush the fucker!¡± The armed man shouted as he and the other three survivors raced towards the monster. The first fell to a swipe of its claws that opened up his belly, the second to a bite of its jaw that ripped apart his neck and the third to its weight crushing down upon his throat. In a blink of an eye, only one man remained, a man who could now barely find the strength to keep the weapon raised even as the beast pounced upon him and savaged his flesh.

    ¡°You lot, forward, get the sword and honour their sacrifice.¡±

    Attis truly doubted that the man cared anything about honour or sacrifice, and it seemed he wasn¡¯t the only one who doubted his words. Yet that didn¡¯t stop the chosen five from being pushed forward and sent towards their likely death.

    The beast until now had seemingly been content to keep back and wait for dinner to approach but now something had changed. The beast was pacing towards them, its eyes constantly switching between each assembled man.

    Seems they want a better show.

    The burning orange glow emitted from the metal chain around its tail told Attis everything he needed to know about what was happening. Whether the rest of the imprisoned noticed or were simply reacting to the charge, Attis wasn¡¯t sure, either way, they were beginning to panic and shuffle around.

    Every man was pushing another, desperately attempting to put themselves out of the beasts¡¯ line of sight. With this constant pushing and shuffling, the group split down the middle, their numbers seemingly equally split in half, except for one unfortunate man, who had found himself torn by indecision and later face-to-face with the approaching killer.

    The unfortunate man didn¡¯t even attempt to run, he simply collapsed against the arena¡¯s walls, let out a few tears and accepted the vicious mauling to come.

    Not even Attis could watch what was to come, he didn¡¯t have to, with everything he had seen, he could imagine the sight of his blood being sprayed against the arena¡¯s brown walls easily enough.

    It was surely a grim sight, and one Attis was keen to avoid witnessing, not only to avoid seeing more death but also because he had another goal in mind. The beast was distracted, and the fallen sword was free for the taking. Attis moved to run for the weapon but before he could take more than one rushed step, a hand gripped upon his shoulder.

    One Attis didn¡¯t immediately swat away or find himself forced to fight for the chance at a weapon.

    It was the grizzled man he had met before; he was dead still and silent except for the slow gentle swaying of his head.

    Why shouldn¡¯t I go for the blade?

    The answer to Attis'' unspoken question came far sooner than he expected as within a second of another slave reaching the sword, he was crushed by a stampede of men all with the same goal. None of them seemed to care about the broken body of the man they were crushing underfoot.

    Eventually, a victor emerged amidst the pile of bodies, one who didn¡¯t hesitate in raising his weapon to fend off the rest. He gave the blade a few test swings and half-hearted thrust towards the other slaves until he was confident none would try to steal it from him.

    The commotion was all over in a matter of seconds, not that it felt like that to Attis, every second in this hell seemed like a lifetime, one made worse as the creature was once again forced to abandon its meal and turn towards them.

    Just its gaze was enough to scatter the men in each and every direction, surely allowing the beast to consume them all one by one.

    Something had to be done, someone needed to take charge and lead them all as one. They needed to group together and fight as one and to do so they would need a leader.

    Attis would be that man if solely to save himself from the slaughter, but just as he centred himself between the men and readied himself to shout. Another voice ruled over his.

    ¡°We all need to do this, every one of us. We all should attack, maybe one of us can get through.¡± The voice was not one Attis recognised, neither was the man it belonged to, the small squirrely looking man had remained completely unnoticed by Attis until now. But with his words given, that changed, every man in the arena had heard his words and every one of them was taking head.

    ¡°Yeah, all together.¡±

    ¡°All we need is one good hit.¡±

    ¡°Together!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s show these fuckers who we are!¡±

    A chorus of support rose up for the men and with it, every one of them was going to face the beast. One by one, man by man, they crept closer to the beast, some moved with a steadfast calmness whilst others had to force their fearful body to move. But whether they were willing or not, every man moved towards the beast, it was that or face the armed swordsman who even now was more than willing to kill any who did not move.

    ¡°Rush the fucker!¡±

    With as much ferocity as he could muster, Attis shouted his words above the noise of the crowd and charged forward. His actions were enough to spur the rest into action and soon enough, they were all shouting and sprinting towards the monster.

    And with them all untied in this action, Attis slowed his steps ever so slightly, he was going to help slay the beast, but he was not going to be the first to meet its claws.

    That honour went to a large, bearded man who even without a weapon, barrelled his entire weight into the beast, the blow would have wiped out any lesser man, but the beast simply took the blow and returned it with one of its own. The beast leapt forward, knocking the man to the ground, it had the perfect chance to finish him, if not for the actions of another who leapt on its side as if trying to force its body to the ground.

    Several others quickly joined the man, forming a pile of bodies over the beast. On a man, their combined weight, forceful punch and underside kicks would have brought them to his knees and yet the creature was not so easily fazed not even as more and more people joined in.

    No normal animal or monster would be so calm, the collar is definitely changing it, maybe even making it stronger.

    There was not enough room left for Attis to join in, he was forced to remain in the circular ring that had formed around the attack, and he would remain there until one of the swordmen finally stepped up and ended this show.

    They would need to find that courage soon as the longer the huddle went on, the more human blood began to flow and seep into the sand below. Its claws were reaping a terrible tow on the legs and stomachs of those piled onto it. A handful of men were attempting to get beneath the monster and hold its legs in place, but they simply lacked the strength to do so or thick enough skin to withstand its claws.

    The pile of dead men was only growing and any men that rushed to take its place would soon be forced to stand upon the fallen to reach the beast.

    ¡°Come on, kill the thing.¡±

    It was a desperate pained shout from a man uncomfortably close to its open gnawing jaws, but his words did finally force the armed men into action. They both rushed forward with their swords glittering in the bright sunlight. The reflection was enough to blind and startle just enough of the huddled men that the creature finally had the opportunity it needed. It forced itself forward, through the men, forcing them to either get trampled beneath or be dragged along its side.

    Attis was quick to move himself out of the way and join the same man who had prevented his crushing death earlier. He was just to the side of the creature, with his feet placed firm into the ground, ready to run at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°We need to end this, while we still have fodder to throw at it. They¡¯ll break soon and then no man will dare charge at it again. Get that dropped sword and that teen over there.¡±

    Attis did as ordered even if it had been a rather shaky experienced dashing for the sword still within the beast''s gaze.

    ¡°Right lad, soon it¡¯ll have enough space to charge, we''re going to kill it before then. We two will distract it and once we do, rush in and stab it through the eyes, you understand?¡±

    Attis didn¡¯t exactly have a better plan and so simply went along with his words whilst trying to look confident for the teen who looked about ready to run for it.

    ¡°Now before shakes the men off its back.¡±

    With the command given, Attis handed the blade to the teen and pressed it firmly into his hands, once done, he copied the other man''s actions before taking a position at the opposite side of the creature.

    ¡°Go on lad. Do you want to survive this or not?¡±

    The teen seemingly had just enough courage to do as commandeered and stood shaking in front of the beast, his sword aimed directly at its piercing eyes.

    ¡°Go.¡±

    Attis¡¯ feet rushed from their braced position whilst his hands grabbed as much sand as they could. Far too quickly for Attis¡¯ liking he and the man ended up on either side of the beast''s growling jaws, in a somewhat panicked throw, Attis lobbed as much of the sand into its eyes as he could manage, sending it into a ferocious pained rage.

    The animal was vulnerable but far from defenceless, it thrashed around wildly as it fought to shake the sand out of its eyes. It was then the blade finally pierced straight through the creature''s skull, ending its life but not before its claws ripped clean across the teen''s stomach.

    Sending his intestines sprawling onto the sand below. The pain he felt showed clearly in his eyes with no trace of the victorious relief every other man was feeling. He had killed the beast, saved them from being mauled one by one and all he received for it was a merciful death as the sword was pulled out of the beast and into his neck.

    Attis probably should have been celebrating, mourning or honouring the fallen but instead, only one thought dominated his mind.

    This hell is only the beginning.

    With that Attis let himself collapse onto the ground, not only to rest but to hopefully calm his ragged breathing and pounding heart.

    Well, that was until a familiar and missed voice echoed from within his mind.

    ---Class Acquired Slave---

    [Title Acquired- Slave Level 1]

    (Ailment Acquired- Restricted Learning)

    ---Class Acquired Gladiator---

    [Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 1]

 Chapter 3: A New Ludus

    ¡°Are you sure about this, the contracts have yet to be signed, it''s not too late to back out.¡±

    Scipio was in fact sure and whilst he found his friend''s constant doubts annoying, he did appreciate the concern they were born of. But no matter what Marcus said, Scipio was determined to go through with this, words had been said and now he had to back them up.

    I¡¯ll show them the worth of a third son. They¡¯ll regret ever doubting me. They¡¯ll come to worship the mighty Ludus that I will build from the very ground up.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Marcus, I¡¯ve come too far to back out now,¡± Scipio replied, his voice full of determination and unfading confidence.

    ¡°Very well then, I guess it would have been a shame to travel so far, to this place¡­ just to walk away with nothing,¡± Marcus said as he looked around the small auction with clear disgust.

    A view shared by Scipio, the auction house was little more than a small, cleared area of field with a makeshift hovel on one side, a place to keep the merchandise away from prying eyes.

    Too hot, unbearable sandy and what are these buildings made of, dirt and sand, disgusting.

    ¡°It¡¯s the only place the carriages could reach that I could afford. Any further and I¡¯d need to invest in guards and supplies.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know, we¡¯ve skimped enough on guards and slave masters as it is, why not the slaves as well? You spend far too much on him,¡± Marcus answered as he brushed off a layer of sand from his clothes.

    ¡°I did, but the man was worth every coin. His experience will be invaluable not only for the arena but for managing the slaves as well,¡± Scipio argued, hiring the man had cost a small fortune but one Scipio happily paid if it meant proving his family wrong.

    ¡°Did the man even mention what level he had achieved, 40? 50?¡±

    ¡°He did not, now be quiet, the auction is about to begin.¡±

    The sound of the hovel door being swung open was enough to bring about a still silence among the twenty or thirty buyers present. Rather annoyingly the auctioneer appeared to be the same man who had glued himself to them up in the stands.

    Barbarian, he smelt worse than he looked, and the show he put on, sad and pathetic. It took that many men to slay one animal, I will have to break that weakness.

    ¡°Esteemed guests and friends from afar, I hope you marvelled at the show these men put on. An impressive spectacle of their strength was it not. Fifty-nine of their number are up for sale, and I''m proud to say every one of them achieved the slave and gladiator classes at the minimum. Now let''s start the bidding shall we?¡±

    I can almost see the coins glinting in his eyes, greed is so common in places like these. I suppose not even the empire can bring civility to all peoples.

    With his face kept blank, Scipio remained silent at the man''s words and simply watched as the first slave was dragged out by his arms and thrown down upon the wooden stage.

    He was a frail scrawny man who looked barely able to stand on his own two feet never mind wield a sword.

    They better not all be like this.

    Scipio couldn¡¯t see the man as a gladiator, the crowds would never cheer his name nor would he earn a place working in a pleasure house, the man''s looks were far too plain for that. At best he could be a sacrifice for a spell, but even then, what was the man''s soul really worth?

    ¡°Let¡¯s start the bidding at three hundred denarii!¡± the slaver shouted as he looked out over the crowd as if expecting a bidding war to instantly erupt.

    It did not, Scipio doubted a single buyer showed anything other than disappointment at the sight.

    ¡°Two hundred denarii then. Remember the slave binding is included, and all previous classes wiped, the slave can be moulded into whatever you want.¡± The man¡¯s words continued to get a response from the crowd and with his tactics failing, the man got ever annoyed and desperate.

    ¡°One hundred, a bargain for sure. Who will take him?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Buy him,¡± Marcus¡¯ whispered into his ear, quiet enough not to draw the auctioneer''s attention.

    ¡°Why, the man is useless.¡±

    ¡°He can be an example to the rest, kill him and use his blood as a message to the rest.¡±

    Clever, he¡¯s more devious than he lets on.

    ¡°Fifty denarii but by the state of it, you should be paying me,¡± Scipio shouted to the laughter of his fellow buyers.

    ¡°Sold.¡± The slaver shouted seeming somewhat relieved for that small show to have ended. Almost as soon as his words had faded, the man was dragged off by the guards and another was brought out to take his place.

    At least this one can stand.

    Other than the fact this one still had control over his legs, there was nothing particularly impressive about this man. He had an average build, the same mediterranean tan that many of this area shared and dirty neck-length blonde hair.

    I need what forty, fifty men for my Ludus, gladiators and house slaves. I don¡¯t have the privilege of being high standards here.

    ¡°This one man does not look like much, but he¡¯s quick, took half a dozen men to run him down. A nimble gladiator, a runner, or prey for a hunt, the man has potential. Four hundred denarii to start.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t long before the first call was made.

    ¡°Four hundred.¡±

    ¡°Four hundred and twenty!¡±

    ¡°Four fifty!¡±

    ¡°Five hundred!¡± Scipio shouted, his voice drowning out those about to weigh in. No one immediately bid again and after a moment of quiet discussion, it seemed that the man''s worth had been decided.

    ¡°Sold!¡±

    This is more fun than I thought, the feeling of beating the rest is invigorating.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get too carried away, we can¡¯t afford to pay above their value,¡± Marcus, the apparent voice of reason chimed in once again.

    ¡°Don¡¯t doubt me, the man has real potential, am I the only one capable of seeing it?¡± Scipio countered.

    Well out of those we¡¯ve seen so far, he has the most potential.

    With the man¡¯s price decided, he was quickly led out of the auction and a new man took his place.

    A much better specimen.

    This one had the build one would actually expect from a gladiator, he was tall, muscular and looked capable of crushing a man with his large hands. His short balding hair and rough face only added to his brutish look.

    ¡°A true savage, look at those muscles and remember his actions in the arena, he easily showed himself above the rest and with a little work this one could become a true champion in the arena!¡±

    The slave didn¡¯t seem as keen on his fate as the slaver was given his next action was to spit on the man and grumble something that sounded similarly to ¡®go fuck yourself, you son of a whore¡¯.

    His disrespect was rightly punished as the two guards laid down a dozen punches into his stomach, although the hulking slave didn¡¯t seem particularly hurt or punished by the strikes.

    I want his strength.

    ¡°Six hundred denarii!¡± Scipio shouted starting the bidding war before the slaver could even begin to speak.

    ¡°Seven hundred!¡± shouted another man from Scipio¡¯s left

    ¡°Nine hundred!¡± shouted an older gentleman from near the front, a man who even had the cockiness look at his fellows¡¯ bidders, seemingly daring them to outbid him.

    ¡°Twelve hundred!¡±

    That¡¯ll teach him to try and out-show me.

    ¡°Sold at twelve hundred,¡± interrupted the auctioneer greedily, clearly he was too shocked at the price and wealth displayed to let anyone else try and outbid him.

    ¡°Well, guess I¡¯m not getting that engineer slave after all.¡± Marcus¡¯ words went ignored by Scipio who was far too engrossed in his new prizes to focus on anything else.

    The auction was far more enjoyable than he had expected, there was a certain thrill to it, as if he was using it to grow a precious collection. Barely any time went by, and he had already acquired a few dozen new slaves and gladiators for his arena, worthy purchases even if he had spent far more of his allocated funds than he had meant to.

    Once I put these men to work, money will be no issue. The Plutus, no, Scipio gladiators will be the terrors of the arena.

    ¡°Esteemed gentleman, in the name of business and time, we shall be selling the last slaves in bundles of five. This first lot is one to watch out for.¡±

    Tall but weak. A bed slave at best that one. Those two. Those two I want.¡±

    The first slave to be dragged out, whilst rather tall was far too lanky, it would take a good deal of work to build him up but once he did, the man could become a true threat.

    With that quick assessment over, Scipio turned to the next man, he was rather handsome, in comparison to the other slaves that was. He had long flowing hair and a chiselled jawline. He wasn¡¯t Scipio¡¯s first choice but for a bundle of slaves, he wasn¡¯t the worst possible option either.

    The next two slaves stood out not only for their actions in the arena but appearances as well. One was far older than any other slave, likely nearing sixty years of age, with bald greying hair and a long-frazzled beard to go with it. In comparison, the other slave had a deceptively average appearance, not ugly but hardly a marvel to look at either, everything about him screamed average from his shortish brown hair, soft eyes and medium height and build.

    Neither of the slaves looked like true gladiators but out of all those who fought, they were the only ones who used the terrain to their advantage and had provided the opening that led to their opponent¡¯s death.

    Smarter than your average slave, even if that¡¯s hardly an achievement.

    Scipio wanted them and just as he had for the rest, he would pay whatever price was needed to acquire them, pay whatever price got him that thrill. They would all be a part of his mighty ludus and bring him all the glory of the arena.

    And it would all begin right here, with this moment, Scipio was sure of it.

    ---Class Acquired Dominus---

    [Title Acquired- Dominus Level 1]

    (Skill Acquired- The Art of the Deal Level 1)

    (Art of the Deal- A merchant skill that facilitates the buying or selling of goods and services)

 Chapter 4: A Grand Construction.

    ¡°All of you out now. Out and no fucking around either. Come on!¡±

    The loud shouting was accompanied by a harsh banging upon the tattered carriages wooden sides. And with that sound Attis knew it could only mean one thing; they had finally arrived at their new ¡®home¡¯.

    Home isn¡¯t exactly the right word; prison is more accurate.

    It had taken them a week of riding to reach the destination, and given how it had been one of the worst weeks of Attis¡¯ life, he couldn¡¯t help but be relieved to have arrived

    They had been crammed into the carriage at a capacity greater than the space allowed, forced to struggle with each other for whatever free piece of room they could find and essentially been left to rot in the heat. Whatever magical prison they had been transported in was far more than its shabby appearance suggested. It had prevented almost all noise from entering its container, let in only the bare necessity of sunlight and worse, prevented them from uttering any kind of sound.

    An entire week of stifling heat, cramped quarters and utter silence.

    If it hadn¡¯t been for the fact, they were let out twice a day to eat, drink and relieve themselves, Attis was quite sure he¡¯d have gone mad and even then, he wasn¡¯t hundred percent sure his mental state had made it out the other side intact.

    One week was a long time to be left solely with your thoughts and pained memories.

    The experience had been a traumatic one and something he was keen to put far behind them along with the awful smell that consumed the air within the carriage.

    Pure cruelty, what else should I have expected from these people? If this is only the journey here, I need to find a way out as soon as possible.

    But first, he like every other man in this prison was keen to get out of it and embrace whatever sunlight still remained in the day. With far more energy than Attis had seen in a long time, the twenty or so men rushed out of the carriage, grunting and pushing against each other as they did so.

    Not wanting to risk injury in the scuffle or be the first one to walk into a trap, Attis let every other man leave first before moving to take his place at the end of the line.

    Let¡¯s see it then. Our Arena.

    Attis hadn¡¯t exactly known what to expect when those doors opened, would he be at the entrance to a grand and luxurious villa, at the heart of an arena even simply on the streets of a bustling city? He hadn¡¯t quite expected his first sight to be of what was essentially a building site combined with a prison. There were numerous piles of construction materials all haphazardly placed around, everything you would need seemed to be here from timber, and stone to clay and nails.

    At the centre of the materials, however, was a large square hole covered with thick metal bars and a singular locked passage that led to the surface.

    It was a rather disorganised and mismanaged site and hardly the place for training gladiators. Unless they were stored in the carriage that brought them here, they lacked the weapons, food and clothing they would need. Even if they were given the bare necessities there was nowhere for the bastard who bought them to live unless he fancied joining them in the hole.

    There was no fancy villa, or mighty training house, not even so much as a hovel for the man or his guards to sleep in, well from what Attis could see that was.

    He didn¡¯t exactly know the layout of the land, or its surroundings, all he could see was the hellhole in front of him and what may have been the outlines of a city in the far distance.

    ¡°Slaves on your knees!¡±

    The guard''s shout did two things, first, it made Attis fall to his knees so as to not risk any wrath falling upon him in this relatively helpless situation, the second thing it did was make him turn around to see just who was shouting.

    It was a rather large bulky man covered in full tight leather armour that prevented Attis from seeing any of his facial features. An appearance shared by the twenty to thirty or so other guards all littered around the area intermingled around them was another group of men and women, all unchained.

    Staff and slave masters maybe, I doubt those whips are for anything else.

    They were all stood either watching them or filtering around the fifteen other carts that accompanied his, in total only two had been used for slave transport, what the rest contained Attis had no idea. But given the number of people and horses present, his best guess was supplies and weapons.

    However, out of the random assortments of materials, carts and people, there were two that stood out among them.

    They were stood ever so slightly apart from the rabble with two guards flanking them at all times. Their garments and robes were dyed and luxurious, the type expected of a nobleman.

    It''s him, the one who bought us.

    Attis couldn¡¯t see the man clearly back at the auction but now, he could finally get a true sense of his new master.

    Younger than I thought.

    The young man could not be any older than twenty-five at the absolute most and even that as being very generous. He had a skinny frame and a youthful appearance that was solely extenuated by the first wisps of a beard that appeared on his slim unscarred and unblemished face. His short hair whilst a very light brown colour was far thicker on the top of his head than the rest, giving it a sort of mushroom-like appearance.

    What strange fashion this place has. How can such a man expect to command respect when he looks like that?

    The young man next to him had a far more traditional appearance, whilst still young his face appeared rougher than his companions and held a more standard hairstyle, with the man having long black hair that had been chopped just before it reached past his chin.

    His clothes are beyond a servant, a friend or advisor perhaps, why else would he have been at the auction as well?

    It was clear from the mutters around him, that Attis wasn¡¯t the only man assessing their surroundings. Although another shout from the guard and the slow approach of the young master did put an end to that mumbling.

    ¡°Form a line.¡± The guard called, this time adding a crack of the whip just to eke out some extra enthusiasm from the stiff, tired and hungry slaves.

    His voice seemed so much louder than it should have, a guard skill perhaps.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Attis had little experience with such skills, his village hadn¡¯t exactly required a force beyond a civil militia. But as curious as Attis was, he soon pushed that aside and rushed to join the slaves as they scrambled into one long line with the guards taking places at either side of them.

    Are they watching for escape or just putting on a show for their employer?

    In truth it didn¡¯t matter either way, all that really mattered in that moment was that Attis knelt in line and kept his eyes on their master as he approached the first kneeling man, a fairly young man with a muscled form and long shaggy hair.

    But before he decided to interact with the man, their new owner turned his gaze upon all present.

    ¡°I am Scipio, of the mighty house of Plutus. I have come to this city of Ravenna for one reason. To build the greatest Ludus that Rome has ever seen. My gladiators will be the terrors of the arena and raise my name above all others. You all will serve and if you serve well, you will find great patronage under my roof, if not, you will be cast aside¡± the man Scipio half shouted as he gave an apparent dramatic pause for effect or just to simply catch his breath.

    ¡°I have saved you slaves from your barbaric lives and in return, I expect you to fight and die for me in the arena. Any attempt to undermine my future and you will be executed, any attempt to escape and you will be executed, if you do anything I deem unworthy, you will be executed. Is that understood!¡±

    A handful of ¡®yes¡¯ chorused in response to the man¡¯s questions but before more voices could be added, the second younger man interrupted.

    ¡°Yes, Dominus!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Dominus!¡± the voices of the slaves called; Attis included.

    And with his authority apparently shown, their Dominus finally turned to the slave at his feet.

    The man¡¯s owner gave him a quick disgust-filled glance as if trying to assess his worth in the short amount of time he could bear to look at him.

    ¡°Hardly an impressive specimen, but we¡¯ll see if we can turn you into something worth my time. What is your name slave?¡±

    ¡°Salvon, my Dominus,¡± the man muttered in reply.

    ¡°No, Salvon is the name of a free man, you are but a slave, your name is Scum. If you want a true name, you must earn it in the arena.¡±

    ¡°Now, what is your name slave?¡±

    ¡°Scum, my Dominus.¡±

    Scipio seemed far too pleased with himself for that demonstration, but Attis couldn¡¯t disregard the strategy''s effectiveness in enforcing their new position. But with Scum¡¯s new name given, he was dismissed with a simple wave of Scipio¡¯s hand and dragged away by the guards, who with little effort, opened up the gate to the pit and threw the man inside.

    Rather thankfully, he was thrown in from the dugout side entrance which did limit the blow a little but even then, Attis wasn¡¯t looking forward to that fall.

    The next man in line was a large brutish brutish-looking man who would have likely towered over Scipio if allowed to stand, not that guards restraining him would have ever let such a thing happen.

    ¡°A gladiator, I wonder if this barbarian ferocity will hold up in the arena. Tell me savage, what is your name?¡±

    The man didn¡¯t answer instead he simply looked and maintained fierce eye contact with his new master.

    ¡°I said what is your name?¡±

    Atts was sure the man would resist but the fact the guards¡¯ hands went to their sheathes seemed to put some sense into him.

    For such a fierce man, I don¡¯t remember seeing him in the arena, either he was brought separately or I simply lost him in the chaos. Likely the latter, out of the hundred, only the older man, the teen and the large man with the sword stuck out.

    ¡°I am Bruto¡­ my Dominus¡± the man muttered out clearly reluctant to do so.

    ¡°A name yet to be earned, you are simply Cock and Balls, a name all will mock and one you will keep until you have brought glory to my ludus.¡±

    Bruto or Cock and Balls as he was now known didn¡¯t take kindly to that new name change but with four guards dragging him away, the chance of him successfully claiming revenge was slim, still, the man did put up a good show, if they had been any slower to grab him or lesser in number, Attis would have but good money on him strangling Scipio to death easily within his large hands.

    With that display over, the next man was brought forward, the man was far smaller than Bruto and honestly seemed dwarfed even by Scipio. Turning him into a gladiator seemed like a difficult task and one Scipio seemed keen to avoid. He gave the man¡¯s long blonde hair and soft features another scrutinising look before ordering the guards to take him towards the carts.

    ¡°Have the other slaves freshen him up, his smell is lingering.¡±

    Compared to us, he¡¯s gotten off lucky.

    The man¡¯s fate did reveal another detail about their future prison, that being the presence of more slaves beside them. Given the size of the household present, it was more than likely there would be dozens of house slaves to fulfil Scipio¡¯s every whim and need. Although Attis was unsure of their number or which cart they were kept in.

    I can¡¯t imagine he¡¯s brought that many house slaves yet, he needs a house first.

    Attis¡¯ musings were cut short as, yet another man was ragged forth. This one however was extremely frail and withered. The journey had clearly taxed his already weakened state. Even the task of kneeling before Scipio seemed almost too much for him.

    His master gave his frail slave a truly disgusted look before simply assigning him the name roach and having him dragged away.

    I wonder if he¡¯ll even survive the throw.

    Attis supposed he would find out eventually but for now, he was more interested in the show before him, more specifically the fate of the grizzled man who had aided him in the arena.

    This man was treated slightly differently than the rest, with Scipio raising the man¡¯s chin with his hand and getting a closer look at the many scars which littered his face.

    ¡°You are no stranger to battle are you slave?

    ¡°No, my Dominus. I was a bandit for many years in my youth, reaching level forty before I was imprisoned and later sold to you.¡±

    His answer wiped away any interest Scorpio held in the man. Apparently, a bandit wasn¡¯t quite what he was hoping for, although Attis couldn¡¯t help but feel he was being too quick to judge. Combat was combat and any past experience, even without levels would surely help in the arena.

    ¡°Well bandit, you shall now be known as Vermin.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Dominus.¡±

    With that, the ex-bandit was taken to the pit and soon joined by several others, all of whom were seen fit to join Scipio¡¯s great Ludus as gladiators.

    Perhaps one in ten men were taken as house slaves but Attis cared little for those, the only ones he would have any real contact with were his fellow gladiators and this was the best chance he had gotten to truly examine those who walked the same path as him.

    The next to face Scipio was the same man who had thrown so many to the beast in the arena, but against Scipio with guards on all sides, the man simply remained still and restrained

    ¡°I saw your actions in the arena, how many slaves did you throw to the beast without ever daring to face it yourself? From this moment, you shall be known as Scared Little Child,¡± Scipio spoke with more scorn in his voice than it usually had.

    I can feel the hatred from here. Scipio best hope that none of these men ever escape. They¡¯ll skin him alive.

    The man-turned-child was soon dragged away from his master and a new man, with dirty blonde hair, was brought forward to take his place.

    ¡°The auctioneer sold you as quick and nimble. Tell me your name and previous occupation slave.¡±

    ¡°Hector and messenger, my Dominus,¡± the slave replied quickly and curtly.

    ¡°With my leadership, I shall turn you into a gladiator famed for his agility and speed and so I name you Fly.¡±

    I would rather be Fly than Cock and Balls, his names are either just insulting or absolutely horrible.

    Fly was quick to buzz off and join the rest in the pit and with him gone, it was now Attis¡¯ turn to be given a name. With as much dignity as he could muster, Attis took his place before the man and made sure to meet Scipio¡¯s brown eyes with his own. From here he could truly study the baby-faced youth up close, study every detail he needed and embed it into memory.

    White and purple toga he wore, gold signeted ring, silver chain, skinny frame, pale skin, small ears, every detail may prove important.

    Scipio met his gaze with how own and once he had apparently seen everything he needed to, he spoke.

    ¡°Marcus, my friend, why don¡¯t you name this one?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, how about Shit Stain?¡±

    ¡°A fitting name. We shall see how long he wears it. Take him away and bring me some wine, all this talking is thirsty work,¡± Scipio answered dispassionately as he turned his back on the silently fuming Attis.

    Shit Stain, shit stain, oh I¡¯m going to fucking kill you. Little fucking pricks.

    The rough hands Attis felt dragging him by the shoulders quickly put an end to any chance of Attis killing them now. The only blood in his immediate future was his own as Attis was roughly thrown down the stairs and into the pit below, earning him a dozen scrapes and scratches in the process.

    Just another reason to kill that man, this insult won¡¯t go unanswered.

    [Title Acquired- Slave Level 2]

    (Slave Path Unlocked- Obedience)

    (Slave Path Unlocked- Disobedience)

    (Ailment Acquired- Possession)

    (Ailment Acquired- A Masters Whim)

 Chapter 5: A Meeting of the Bruised and Broken

    With a resounding thud, Attis watched as the last slave was tossed down the stairs and into their shared pit. It was a large enough space to easily accommodate them all, even with the large support pillars that connected to the bars above.

    The pit was surely their future slave pen and would likely be split and divided into cells, facilities and storage. But for now, it was essentially a large open space full of barely clothed men all sitting or standing around aimlessly. It was close enough to nighttime that they hadn¡¯t already been set to work but not so close that the men were ready to sleep.

    They were all simply huddled in small groups, just waiting for night to come. Their small piles should hopefully keep them warm enough to survive the night, it was an uncomfortable but necessary sacrifice, and something easily done given all they had been through up to this point.

    I never saw this path in my future.

    He was a slave now and this kind of lifestyle was something he simply had to get used to, no matter how much he hated it. The emblem burnt onto his neck would always be a constant reminder of his new life, even if the symbol upon it has changed into a small collection of what the slaves agreed was grapes.

    The symbol of his house. Sold to a grape merchant turned Dominus.

    Their master¡¯s past didn¡¯t matter much in the way of things, all that mattered was his survival and the tools he had to better his chances at it.

    After a small shiver and shuffle to better suit himself to the rough floor below, Attis took the only tools he had to better his chances at life. His new skills, the good and the bad.

    He had acquired new titles in both slave and gladiator with the latter likely not being improved until he actually partook in more combat. That simply left him with slave and its varying paths and ailments.

    I know nothing of this class except their names, that must change.

    He needed to learn just what these ailments and paths meant and so, just as he did with his old titles, Attis simply calmed his breathing, steadied his heart and searched his soul for the answer.

    And just as he was used to, the voice of his soul answered him.

    (Ailment Possession- Those possessing this condition are owned as property and are as such restricted in their rights, freedoms and skills)

    (Ailment Restricted Learning- Those with this ailment are restricted from learning certain classes and skills, this condition can be overruled by the slave¡¯s master)

    (Ailment A Masters Whim- This condition represents a master¡¯s ability to enforce their will upon their property, its effectiveness varies depending upon the levels of slave and master.)

    The ailments were far different than any he had encountered before and did all make sense for one in his position. Although there was one that stuck out above the rest, that being a master¡¯s whim

    A master¡¯s whim, so that bastard can enforce his will, does that mean he can force us to obey completely if he is higher level than us? It¡¯s hard to know without further testing.

    To really understand his new ailment, he would need to see it used and so until that happened, Attis would put it aside and focus on his other new developments.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    (Slave Path Obedience- This path and the levels and traits associated with it represent a slave¡¯s obedience and loyalty towards their master. The higher the ascension, the greater the trust between master and slave)

    (Slave Path Disobedience- This path and the levels and traits associated with it represent a slave¡¯s disobedience and disloyalty towards their master. The higher the ascension, the greater a slave¡¯s ability to resist their master''s influence and lessen any slave ailments.

    As far as Attis understood, those paths represented the core of the slave class, if a slave was willing and obedient, their obedience path would grow, and they would likely be given more freedoms whilst still being a slave. The disobedience path leaned towards rebellion and resisting your master. It was definitely the path Attis preferred but he couldn¡¯t help but wonder just how his master¡¯s class may interact with such a path.

    Surely they do, the phrasing of a master¡¯s whim suggests there¡¯s a connection. I need to know more but how?

    There was only one source of knowledge available to him here and he would have been a fool not to attempt to use it.

    ¡°Everyone, if we want any chance of surviving the arena and returning to our homes, we need to work together and share all we know,¡± Attis began as his words caught the ears of all around him but failed to truly engross their attention.

    ¡°I will go first, my name is Shit stain, Shit stain. Shit¡­¡±

    Bastards. I guess this is my first taste of a master¡¯s whim. He has given me a name and I don¡¯t have the power to refuse it.

    ¡°My name is A t t i s, I have received the slave and gladiator class, the ailments of restricted learning, possession and a master''s whim along with the obedience and disobedience paths. Beyond that I know nothing of this class, has anyone received different skills or know anything more?¡± Attis asked quietly and received only blank stares and half-hearted nods in return.

    Gods dammit.

    ¡°What you have there is the slave starter pack. I¡¯d wager every one of you has the same.¡± The voice came from the older grizzled man Attis had briefly interacted with or Vermin as he had been named. The older man was sat up against the wall simply staring at the slaves present with a look Attis couldn¡¯t quite place.

    ¡°As you are now, not one of you would make it past the first round in the arena. But Shit Stain is right, if you¡¯re going to survive this, you should take heed of his words. I was a bandit and, in my time, sold many a man into slavery. Let me tell you what little information I picked up from the slavers I traded with.¡± With Vermin apparently being the only slave with knowledge of what was to come, it soon became apparent that every one of them was listening in, keen to gain some titbit that may help them survive their torture.

    ¡°The slave class is unique; its skills and traits are intertwined with the slave master, slaver and Dominus classes. Slaves have their standard levels as do all classes but they also have two progression paths. Obedience and disobedience, loyalty or rebellion, all our skills in a way will belong to one of those paths. The master, however, their levels all serve to control us, weed out the loyal from the disloyal and eliminate revolt. For you to survive you must balance your obedience and disobedience, or if you plan to escape, find your freedom before a master senses your disobedience,¡± Vermin spoke before giving a small shrug at the end, as if to play off what he had just said.

    But either way, his words meant the end of the group''s very small discussion, they all had far too much to reflect on and far too little knowledge to bother sharing any more, Attis included.

    Balance is key, depending on the level, a master or guard can probably sense a slave''s disobedience level, too much without equal obedience and they will get suspicious. Or maybe there¡¯s a threshold, or simply it''s dependent on the master¡¯s level. There are too many possibilities and variables. I just need to be careful and keep both levels the same. But how do I do that; how do I level them? Can a high disobedience and high level overall hide it from them? Just what would they sense?

    The simple fact was that Attis had far too many questions that needed answering and absolutely no way to answer them. The only thing he could do was wait and let the answers trickle to him as time went by. A solution that only served to frustrate him further. He desperately wanted to know; his survival depended on such information.

    This frustration only added to his restlessness and given the room they were locked in, there was only one way for him to try and clear his mind of the infuriating questions that filled it, that being to dig his nails into his flesh and hope the distraction helped drown out his thoughts just long enough for sleep to take him.

    All I wanted was peace and quiet, for all the suffering to end and yet, I am doomed never to find it.

 Chapter 6: Division of Labour

    ---Class Acquired Master of the House---

    [Title Acquired- Master of the House Level 1]

    [Title Acquired- Dominus Level 2]

    (Skill Acquired- A Masters Whim Level 1)

    (Skill A Masters Whim- This skill represents a master¡¯s ability to enforce their will upon their slaves, its effectiveness varies depending upon the levels of slave and master.)

    (Skill Acquired- Slave Governance level 1)

    (Skill Slave Governance- This skill provides a base summary of a slave, their location and any associated skills. The higher the level, the greater the information revealed)

    As Scipio preferred to do every morning, he laid his head back upon the soft feather pillows, dropped a fresh grape into his awaiting mouth and reflected on the new titles he had earned in the recent past.

    The Master of the House title was one he had achieved upon hiring the staff required for his new Ludus, it was a title his father had also held and one he used to better manage his household and employees. Scipio knew it would be a useful title, but it was hardly the most exciting one. His interests were on the Dominus class and the skills associated with it.

    Scipio of course understood what these new skills meant and how the more he levelled them, the more control and knowledge he would have on his new possessions. As long as his slaves didn¡¯t far outclass him that was. At least that was how Scipio understood it from the context given. To truly know for sure, he would need someone with more experience in this area.

    He would need the Doctore he had hired to finally arrive and fill in any missing knowledge gaps, along with fulfilling all the duties associated with his position.

    Quickstrike, a once fierce gladiator, brought out of retirement to train Scipio¡¯s new gladiators in real combat, well, that had been Scipio¡¯s plan. He had paid a large sum to hire the man¡¯s services and the fact he had yet to show was unacceptable.

    His fee is the main reason I am forced to live here, in this cart. The man should have the decency to arrive at the agreed-upon time. I will be deducting payment for this.

    Without the man, it would fall upon him to organise and train the gladiators, a task Scipio was loathe to do. There was already a large amount of work that would require his attention, work that really should have fallen upon the shoulders of a lesser man, if only he had the funds left to acquire one.

    He had truly fallen on hard times, but if this was what was required to earn his name, then this was what he had to do.

    And with this resolve, Scipio pushed the naked slave off his chest, stepped out of his soft feathered bed and put on the fresh red and white toga which had been selected for the day. Next, he slipped on his sandals, sild the silver chain over his neck and finally put on the Plutus signet ring, a reminder of just why he was putting himself through this.

    With that done, Scipio gave one last disgusted look around the goods-filled carriage before stepping out onto the hard dirty ground below.

    As ordered two of his guards were standing by, ready to lay down their levels to protect the valuables still stored within the carriages. He had filled them with all the essentials of a proud ludus, from impressive jewellery, fancy clothes, and exquisite furniture to expensive silverware. Everything a proud noble house would need was stored safely within the assembled carriages, all of it waiting for one thing, a house to be displayed within.

    They were worth a small fortune and so Scipio had commanded these two men to guard it with their lives. He had even outfitted them with everything they would need to do so from tight-fitting leather armour, and a nose-capped helmet to a proud short sword which lay in the scabbard tied to their waists.

    The payment for the men and their fellow guards hadn¡¯t been cheap but it was a necessary cost.

    Thirty guards all levelled between twenty-five and thirty. Fifteen slave masters, all with similar levels. All to manage the fifty gladiators and ten house slaves. Once the Ludus has become a success those numbers will surely change.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    After finishing his quick guard inspection, Scipio moved away from his carriage and towards a large area of levelled ground slightly away from the pit. One day this would be the sight of his manor, one day that was, at the moment the sight consisted of little more than a mess of building supplies, a wooden architectural table and a worried-looking Marcus.

    He stresses far too much, he needs to slow down, relax, and enjoy the gifts and pleasures of my new household.

    Even if he worked far too much for one of his station, Marcus was a great friend, not only had he joined him in this mission, but he had the knowledge, skills and experience needed to help Scipio achieve his goals.

    After taking a moment to soak in the warm midday sun, enjoy the gentle chirping of birds and take in the view of the far-off city of Ravenna as it lay nestled just before the Adriatic Sea, Scipio moved to greet his friend and examine the small blueprint he had laid out before him.

    The blueprint showed Scipio¡¯s ideal layout and building structure for the site, down from the underground slave pit, and the stone wall to the mighty mansion. It was all set out in this blueprint, even if the details and measurements were far lacking.

    ¡°I¡¯m not happy you know,¡± Greeted Marcus as his eyes remained fixed to the drawing.

    ¡°When are you ever, you know what may improve your mood, not getting up at the crack of dawn to work,¡± Scipio countered.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it would, but I have far too much work to plan before I can rest easy.¡±

    ¡°Ah quit your whining, you love a challenge, so go on tell me this grand plan of yours,¡± Scipio replied as he passed the now empty wine glass to one of the house slaves he had set to following his every move.

    It was a luxury he hadn¡¯t quite been permitted back home, but here, his rules were in play and if he wanted slaves to follow him around, obey every order and incite him, then it would be so.

    I need to get them better clothes, those robes may as well be rags. That shall be my task as soon as I have a house first, there is no point sullying fine dresses by having them standing around in a muddy field.

    ¡°Scipio, focus if you would, the time for rest has ended, and we need to get these plans agreed upon whilst the day remains light,¡± Marcus spoke as his words succeeded in their aim of interrupting Scipio¡¯s lost train of thought.

    ¡°Go on then, I can see you¡¯re simply dying to show off.¡±

    With a small roll of the eyes, Marcus returned his gaze towards the blueprint

    ¡°As it stands, the site is an unorganised mess, lacking in leadership and order. Half the guards simply wander around aimlessly whilst the rest watch over the pit, the masters we hired are doing little more than wait around in their carriage, the same goes for the chefs, accountants and other staff you hired. They are simply waiting for work.¡± Marcus spoke in a surprisingly impressive and uninterrupted monologue.

    And once his friend had made sure he was still listening, Marcus continued his speech.

    ¡°We have all the materials we need but no masons, carpenters or labourers to utilise them. We lack captains for the guards or any real direction.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were going to show off your plan, not simply criticise.¡±

    ¡°The plan comes now, criticizing you is just the first step in highlighting the mess you have put us in, you did everything out of order. We have furnishings but nothing to furnish, cooks without a kitchen, beds without bedrooms. I should have joined you earlier.¡±

    ¡°I did what I could with the resources I had left, if id bought a house, I¡¯d have run out of money almost immediately, if I¡¯d spent money on masons, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to afford all the materials. I compromised, like I am now by not hitting you. Now just tell me your actual plan,¡± Scipio said as his words signalled the end of the small sharing of criticism and banter.

    And with Scipio unwilling to hear any more useless criticism on his situation, Marcus finally drew his attention to the blueprint and specifically the drawing of the finalised slave pit. With its multiple secured cells, bathing area, storage and toilet areas.

    ¡°The slave pit base has been set and completing its construction will be our first call of order, as it stands now it is inefficient not only in security but functionality as well. After it is completed, we shall fill its roof and use the space as a training area. Next, we build a rudimentary wall around the compound and expand upon it later. Only then do we start construction of the manor and its grounds.¡±

    It was then Marcus turned his gaze towards the slave pit and the guards surrounding it. With a flick of his hand, a command was given and the gladiators within were led out in pairs, held to the ground and chained together by the feet.

    Can¡¯t have any thinking they can run off. Once the wall is constructed, the chains can be removed.

    ¡°A necessary inconvenience, with all the slaves out of the pen, they could become hard to control. The chains will do for now. Once they have all been brought up, I shall divide them into two groups, one to train, one to build, they shall rotate every day. Once enough time has passed, I or our Doctore will study their training and choose five men, our most competent fighters to train every day. We will need them for the tournament.¡±

    ¡°Of course, the first demonstration of our Ludus, a chance for our gladiators to prove themselves.¡± Despite saying them with as much confidence as he could muster, he wasn¡¯t that enthused by the prospect. The upcoming match wasn¡¯t so much a gladiator showdown in the arena as it was a privately held blood match.

    To provide entertainment on a young noble birthday, his men would simply put on soldier attire and ¡®battle¡¯ against a group of weak slaves dressed as enemy soldiers. It would not be an impressive spectacle nor one that would draw forth any glory, it was simply a means to make a little extra money.

    A waste of time really but Marcus is insisting, and I guess we do need the money to pay the arena fee.

    His men had one weak to prepare for the ¡®challenge¡¯ and once it was concluded the real glory would come.

    They would be signed up for every tournament available, pitted against the fiercest opponents and would spill blood upon the arena¡¯s sand in his triumphant name.

    Eternal glory and all earned by me.

 Chapter 7: Stone and Blood

    Thank the gods for that breeze, the heat down there is stifling.

    Attis¡¯ first night in the massive hole in the ground hadn¡¯t been a comfortable one., the rough surfaces, cold dirt and lack of any bedding had made it a rough sleep. The morning hadn¡¯t been any better, not only had he awoken with stiff limbs and an awful soreness, but with an empty stomach that had only been fed with cooked rice. Even then he had barely managed to get more than a mouthful of the stuff before he and the other slaves managed to devour the large goop of rice that had been tossed down from above.

    It was only after the early breakfast scramble had they were dragged out of the brutally warm hellhole they called a slave pen and brought out into the wind. That short bit of joy had lasted scarcely a minute before they were roughly forced together, held down, and chained.

    All that suffering and dehumanisation had only been the start, Attis was sure of it. And all he could do now was wait patiently as the last of his fellow slaves were chained together in pairs.

    Just the sight of it was enough to once again make Attis curse in anger and wriggle his left foot around, as if such a simple motion could free him from his entrapment.

    The chains were heavy by themselves and made of thick iron, they¡¯d be enough to slow him down even without being attached to another man.

    Salvon or Scum I think it was.

    The younger man hadn¡¯t so much as looked at him, not that his eyes would have been that visible under the long shaggy hair that covered much of his head. They would need to communicate to ease movement but now wasn¡¯t the time for such a thing.

    One of the guards was exchanging quick words with the friend of their masters, all whilst making vague gestures at them.

    And once the small conversation came to an end, the guard quickly got to work bellowing out orders.

    Everyone to my left wait here for further commands, everyone to my right will follow me!¡± The guard shouted before lowering his voice and turning to the guard next to him.

    ¡°Tession take half the available guards and masters, keep an eye on the rest and set men to patrol, the other half will accompany me.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡± With that, the lightly armoured man rushed to obey as the guards around them either remained still or began herding the right prisoners away from the rest.

    It wasn¡¯t immediately clear where they were being herded to, the only thing south of their position was simply more cleared lands and a light scattering of flowered hills.

    Still, Attis did as ordered and despite struggling with his chains, he and Scum managed to hobble along with his remaining slaves, occasionally tripping and stumbling as they did so.

    Much to his already exhausted feet¡¯s relief, the small march came to a halt barely a minute¡¯s hobble away from the shithole they called a Ludus. They were well within sight and shouting range but far enough from the carts and construction material that they wouldn¡¯t get in the way.

    And more than close enough for a couple of house slaves to come running up with a few dozen wooden swords clutched tightly within their arms. They wasted no time in dropping them to the ground before running back up the small hill to the encampment. The sound of chinking metal collars following them as they did so.

    Training in chains, how are we meant to train probably like this. I¡¯m not only a slave but one forced to serve a disorganised shithole of a Ludus that seems barely functional.

    Attis knew little of the gladiator life, but he was fairly sure this was not how they were trained; he assumed he would have been enslaved within a strong-walled compounded with strong guards and experienced trainers to teach them. He had not expected to be sleeping in a half-built construction site and trained in a small open field with wooden swords and no way to increase his mobility.

    Then again, this dysfunction only made escape easier. Poor security, disorganised guards and no walls made the chance his chance at finding freedom only easier. He just needed to form some kind of plan or wait for his captors to make a mistake. Time was on his side but even with it, he would need every advantage he could get to fight for his freedom, even if that advantage came in the form of restricted training.

    With his fellow slaves simply staring at the pile of swords unsurely or busy staring off at their admittedly lovely surroundings and views, Attis moved to pick up one of the wooden swords, dragging a solemn and hesitant scum with him.

    The man didn¡¯t seem keen to be one of the first to pick up a sword but after a few tugs of his chains, he soon followed Attis¡¯ lead, even giving the sword a few random test swings.

    I don¡¯t think he has much practice with one, not that I can boast any different. I doubt many here can boast anything more than militia training.

    Neither of the large men that Attis assumed had any sword training had been put in his group and out of the twenty-six men present, the only one here who likely had was Vermin but even then, how good of a swordsman could an enslaved bandit be?

    The older man wasn¡¯t even showing any interest in the blades or training, he was just simply looking around disinterested or giving the guards disappearing glares whilst he pulled at his beard.

    These men, these conditions, this training. There will be no glory in the arena for us, just a slow drown out death.

    Attis had little confidence in this so-called training or his fellow gladiators but to their credit, they did all eventually pick up a sword each without any of the bastard guards or masters around them having to threaten them to do so.

    Those whips look nasty,

    If the guards weren¡¯t enough to maintain order and security, it seemed their Dominus had hired a dozen masters to aid them in doing so. Attis wasn¡¯t exactly sure how the role differed from a guard, but he could only guess the masters would focus solely on the slaves and their development whilst the guards would also protect their employer and all of his property.

    Be it either guard or master, they were his enemy and at least the masters were much more vulnerable. They wore no armour or protection just simple cloth and harsh-looking whips; they would surely be formidable but not as much as the armoured guards.

    None of these men look strong, their levels must all be low, this Ludis really is a cheap one.

    The lack of levels present simply made Attis¡¯ life easier, although it did create one problem.

    Who will teach us?

    Not one of the guards or masters made any moves to organise and teach them. They didn¡¯t step forward and begin sprouting out swordsmanship lessons, they didn¡¯t demonstrate techniques and tactics, and they didn¡¯t even go as far as to draw their own weapons or even so much as mutter encouragement.

    ¡°You are here to train for your deaths in the area, get on with it and fight!¡± The lead guard shouted once again before turning his back on them and taking a seat on one of the nearby hill slopes, crushing several patches of flowers beneath him as he did so.

    From his new position, the guard seemed happy enough to simply sip from his canteen and watch them.

    Useless bastards, I need to use this opportunity wisely.

    With most of his fellow slaves either confused or simply staring at each other uneasily, Attis took it upon himself to try and get some use out of this ¡®training¡¯.

    ¡°Spread out in your pairs, practice on each other, attacking, parrying and countering?¡± Attis spoke attempting to share what little sword knowledge he had. It was unclear how much was taken and understood but they did at least spread out and ready their blades. And with that done, Attis turned to his opponent.

    The younger man had yet to speak but he was standing ready with his feet apart and blade raised. A stance mimicked by Attis.

    Gods I¡¯m rusty. I really should have paid more attention to militia training.

    ¡°So, Scu¡­Scu¡­ So, tell me, friend, do you know anything of combat?¡±

    ¡°Scum is fine, it''s better we get used to these new changes and no I do not,¡± the man replied in a much deeper tone than Attis expected.

    ¡°Me neither, perhaps we should take it in turns, one attacking, one trying to parry or block it, you can strike first,¡± Attis replied turning his last few words into an open invitation to begin.

    And after a moment of hesitancy, Scum attacked. His first attempt was a slow clumsy overarching attack that Attis easily blocked with his own sword. The next was a faster harder slash from the side, one Attis barely managed to counter. A motion they repeated a handful more times until Scum turned his slashes into fast rapid jabs.

    The first jabbing motion caught him straight in the side as his attempt to sidestep the blow failed miserably, the second he attempted to smash away with his own strike, only for it to be redirected into his shoulders. Scum did seem somewhat apologetic for actually landing the blows but that didn¡¯t stop the man from continuing his attacks until Attis was reeling from pain and clutching his stomach.

    ¡°Your turn yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    After taking a moment to catch his breath and let the worst of the pain settle down, Attis steadied his feet on the ground and placed both hands around his sword before quickly returning to a one-handed striking stance.

    Scum was ready for him, he was pacing from foot to foot, a surprising feat given the bulky chains wrapped around them, swaying his sword gently and watching Attis¡¯ arms like a hawk. With as much speed as he could muster, Attis thrust forward, catching his opponent on the hand and forcing him to drop his sword as he clutched at his bruised fingers.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was harder than I meant.¡±

    ¡°It is fine Shit Stain, do not apologise, here we must all do what is necessary. Again?¡±

    Attis nodded in response and allowed Scum to regain his position before striking again, this time he swung his sword around, striking at the man¡¯s right arm. Scum countered with his own strike which caused both blades to collide into each other harshly.

    I think it¡¯s coming back to me.

    His rather limited swordman experience was somewhat returning to him, or so Attis hoped but before he and his duelling partner could continue their back and forth a voice called out over the shared duelling stage, halting the actions of every man there.

    ¡°Stop, I can¡¯t watch this any longer, this training is an insult to fighting never mind the arena. You shall watch me and¡­ Fuckface duel and mimic everything I do, is that understood?¡± The voice of Vermin called out and given he was the only man with any apparent combat experience, Attis was willing to obey.

    There wasn¡¯t a verbal shout of agreement to Vermin¡¯s rather annoyed words, but that didn¡¯t mean any of the exhausted men present did anything other than copy the man¡¯s stance and ready themselves to learn. If they were to survive the arena, they needed all the experience they could get, and this was an opportunity that couldn¡¯t be wasted.

    With a quick nod to his partner, they both got into position and copied Vermin¡¯s stance. Placing their chained feet at the front, both eh and Scum angled their bodies slightly, spread their feet and placed one slightly ahead of the other.

    Once every slave was in the correct stance, Vermin began to attack his opponent using deliberately slow and clear motions to highlight the correct method. He showed them the basics of attacking first, how to position yourself, how much force to use, where to aim and sense where your opponent is striking.

    Well, that is what Attis assumed, Vermin was showing them the movements, but his own instructions were short and basic to the point where he may not have bothered.

    Still, the man knew his stuff with all those years of marauding apparently giving him the chance to hone his own swordsmanship technique even with him now having lost the skills of that class.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The man wasn¡¯t exactly willing to teach them given his lack of verbal commands but watching the motions in action was better than nothing.

    With keen eyes, Attis watched the man¡¯s movements and mimicked them against his partner, he held his sword straight, aimed for the top of his opponent¡¯s blade and used it to deflect the sword away from him and put him in a great position to strike should he have wished.

    Next, they exchanged a handful of strikes and counter cuts, all whilst keeping one eye on Vermin or the many men around them all attempting to copy the techniques.

    It was hard tiring work, especially under the hot sun, but compared to the days of torturous cart travel, it was more than bearable. Attis doubted any of the men would put their exhausted bodies and tried muscles above learning these techniques, not if they wanted to survive in the arena that was. Survival was a powerful motivator and with their lives on the line, even Attis was grateful and desperate for the small period of rest Vermin granted them as a slave approached with a heavy bucket of water clasped tightly within her hands.

    They aren¡¯t guarded as tightly and are not weighed down with chains other than the leather collars around their necks, they could run for it, but they surely have measures in place to stop it.

    Attis wasn¡¯t the only one observing the approaching woman but it seemed their reasons were far different than his. The slaves around him were likely far more interested din finally getting some water than anything else but a few of the guards were definitely giving the young woman unkind looks. The lead guard included, the man was staring at the woman almost unblinkingly and whilst she was homely with long brown hair, a pretty face and nice figure, the guard was acting as if he had never seen a woman before.

    Cheap and undisciplined. What else should I have expected?

    Attis doubted Scipio was the kind of master to allow his servants and staff to touch his property but that didn¡¯t stop the man from slapping the woman¡¯s rear as she walked past, sending her and the bucket of water crashing to the floor.

    ¡°You bastard!¡± A voice from Attis¡¯ rear called before it was quickly quitted by a mutter of shushes and warnings. But it was far too late for that now, the guard had heard it.

    ¡°Who said that? You two bring him here!¡±

    Without another look at the young woman still clutched to the floor or Attis and the others still staring at the drying water desperately, the guard raised himself from his seat and placed himself at their head.

    It took a moment for his fellow guards to find the slave he had called out and drag him and his par before there, but they did eventually with no opposition from Attis or any of his fellow slaves. This was not the time or place for such a thing.

    And so, Attis simply watched as the man was pulled forward and forced to stand eye to eye with the armed guard.

    To the slave¡¯s credit, he wasn¡¯t backing down from the man¡¯s gaze nor grovelling for his actions, despite being a tad smaller, weaker and with a much skinnier frame.

    ¡°Something to say, slave?¡± The guard asked as if daring the man to repeat his words.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t you who called me a bastard.¡±

    ¡°No, I simply called for another bucket to replace the lost one. It¡¯s too hot without water.¡±

    Attis agreed with the man, his mouth was heavily parched already, if they kept up these conditions for too much longer, Attis knew it wouldn¡¯t be the arena claiming lives but the hot mediterranean heat.

    ¡°Another water bucket, why would we waste the perfectly fine and precious water we already have? I¡¯d hate for it to go to waste, so kneel and have your fill.¡±

    What a bastard, some people can¡¯t handle even the slightest sip of power.

    A sentiment surely shared by the slave who did not look keen or willing to sip from the dirty mud-filled puddle of water at his feet.

    Do it, it will be worse if you don¡¯t.

    The scene had the attention of all present, with all of them waiting for the situation to unfold.

    Attis was on the side of obeying, he may have hated the guard and the hatefulness of his actions, but here he would have obeyed. The dirty puddle may have been disgusting, but it was not a hill to die on.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Fool

    ¡°I said drink your fill,¡± The guard muttered angrily, getting ever closer to the man as he did so.

    ¡°Please drink,¡± Came a small whisper from the man chained to the destined slave.

    ¡°No.¡±

    The man¡¯s defiance was interesting and as much as Attis knew the importance of such an act, now was not the time and sadly it only took a second for him to be proved right. Still angered by the defiance, the guard smashed the slave around the face harshly with his armoured fist, sending him crashing to the ground in a spray of blood and broken teeth.

    But even with the man lying across the floor, clutching his broken jaw, the punishment wasn¡¯t over, the guard gripped the back of the man¡¯s head, pulling him by the hair and forcing his face into the muddy puddle.

    He¡¯s lucky there not enough water to be drowned in.

    Attis wasn¡¯t sure just how much leeway the guards had been given but the fact no one was interrupting to stop the guard from repeatedly smashing the slaves face into the ground spoke volumes of their authority.

    ¡°Rebellion will not be tolerated, you obey when ordered, now drink your fill.¡±

    With his mouth still spewing blood and his face bruised and broken, the save somehow managed to drink from the puddle, forcing the filthy water down with pain-filled glugs. And only once the last of the water was gone, was the slave finally released from the guard¡¯s grip.

    ¡°Rest time is over, back to training. Now!¡± The guard shouted and with his display more than fresh in everyone¡¯s mind, the slaves, Attis included all rushed to continue their training.

    Except for two that were, the beaten slave remained flat on the ground with only the occasional shallow breaths to show he was still alive, his partner remained by his side, seemingly unsure what to do. Not that Attis blamed him, if he aided the man, there was a fair chance he would end up in a similar situation.

    Instead, the man seemed forced to switch his attention between his fallen partner and the dozen slaves around him who had returned to practising their swordsmanship techniques. Even with their thirst and hunger, it was best to train while they could, any wasted moment could easily lead to their deaths in the arena. A fate Attis was keen to avoid.

    There was nothing he could do for any of his fellow slaves and so he returned to Scum and continued their back and forth strikes, constantly pushing and testing each other in a desperate attempt to increase their own skills.

    No matter how much his muscles ached, or his feet hurt from the chains wrapped around them, Attis continued his training, ignoring any bruises or scars that appeared on his form or tattered his already ruined slave clothes.

    Only when the sky had begun to dimmer did Attis and Scum stop their training and even then, its end was due more to the shuffling of the guards than anything else.

    It seemed their shifts had swapped and with this new change of guard came the time for the assembled slaves to be halted, put in order and finally marched back up the flowery hill to their slave pen or hell pit as was more fitting a name.

    With every slave far too exhausted to do anything other than obey meekly, they were all soon unchained, marched back through the pit door and treated to a small helping of grain and water before once again being left to themselves in the dark uncomfortableness of the out.

    It''s changed.

    It wasn¡¯t exactly easy for Attis to tell given the fading light, but he could just about make out the basis of clay foundations within the dirt, he was far from a builder or stone mason, so what the small structures meant was far beyond him. But it did at least prove one thing, their pit would be the first to change and with it, their chance of escape diminished.

    I need information and some kind of a plan for that matter. I¡¯ve learned enough about the unorganised mess of a Ludus to start piecing one together, but I will need help.

    Luckily for Attis, the solution to both his needs was already present in the pit, the other group were already here, all spread out across the pit eating and drinking whilst they finally had the opportunity to do so.

    Food first.

    He needed to prioritise his body needs first however and so Attis quickly moved to secure his own meal before finding a spot near a small conglomeration of other slaves and the man they seemed to be seated around.

    The man was far larger than the rest with a rather bruised and rough-looking face, he had a very barbarian appearance, one which wasn¡¯t helped by the fact every inch of him was either covered in dirt or scarred in some way.

    Bruto, I think it was. Best not to call him Cock and Balls if I can avoid it.

    ¡°Gladiator training was a joke. We had no instructor or guide, if it wasn¡¯t for Vermin, half of us wouldn¡¯t even know how to hold a sword correctly. What hells have they put you through?¡± Attis asked attempting to build some kind of bond with the group through shared suffering.

    ¡°Tis truly a circus. I hear stories about the glory of Ludus and power of arena. But this place. I spit on it,¡± came Bruto or Cock and Balls¡¯ reply with a thick heavy accent.

    I have no idea where he¡¯s from, lands above the Rhine maybe

    ¡°The boy who calls himself master, he has no home, not even hut, we make it for him,¡± the large, accented man continued before stopping and allowing another one of the slaves to fill in for him.

    This other slave was far smaller and much more average looking but just like Bruto, he too was covered in thick layers of dirt.

    ¡°We spent most of the morning just organising what we had, wood, stone, clay, tools, nails, wood. Everything we need to build a Ludus, except the knowledge of how to do that, that is,¡± the other slave spoke with a much more familiar accent.

    ¡°So, we''re going to be building it ourselves, what are these for?¡± Attis replied gesturing to some of the small foundations that had been laid upon the hard clay-like ground.

    ¡°Base layers or some crap like that. One of our guys, the young one in the corner, he was a stonemason¡¯s apprentice, were going off what little details he can remember.¡± Came the man¡¯s reply as he gave a small point to said apprentice before shovelling some more grain into his mouth.

    Obviously, none are happy, but I need to be careful about mentioning escaping, I can¡¯t risk anyone mentioning it to the guards for a reward. I need to build up their trust.

    ¡°Fantastic, so not only are we learning to fight from scratch but to build as well. What kind of man funds an endeavour like this without knowing and preparing every little detail? Everything is unorganised from supplies, labour, spacing, knowledge to staff, I don¡¯t know what to make of it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what to make of it, the master is a young rash idiot noble who took his family''s money and ran off with it. No thought, no planning and little preparation or understanding of how to run a Ludus, he¡¯s winging it and were going to suffer for it.¡± Another one of the slaves added, his words were quickly met with mutters of agreement from those listening to the conversation.

    ¡°The other one he seems more collected, smarter.¡± Came the voice of another one of the slaves, a man Attis recognised as the partner of the beaten slave.

    ¡°Hmmm. That just means we''re even more fucked, one master to fuck and abuse us, one to fix his mistakes and keep us in line.¡±

    ¡°Fucking Basterds.¡±

    ¡°Then what do we do?¡±

    It was at this point Attis finally saw a chance to lead the conversation and hopefully gain some much-needed information out of it.

    ¡°If we¡¯re going to survive this, we need to work together, pool our resources and strength. We may have lost our classes, but they can¡¯t take away the knowledge. Before this hell, tell me, what skills, classes, and abilities, had you all earned?¡± Attis asked, opening the question up to all gathered around them.

    ¡°Woodcutter, four five, powerful swing, could carry heavy logs.¡± Came the voice of Bruto.

    The muscle of the group, his strength could be key.

    Apart from giving Attis a few ideas, Bruto¡¯s answer also laid the way for the rest of the men to chime in.

    ¡°I was a fisherman, its skills made me an excellent fisherman, I could sense fish below me, track schools of them, haul large nets. Not exactly useful for this. It was my trade, and they took it from me.¡±

    ¡°Herbalist, only low level though. I can still make a few remedies, they just won''t be as effective. Apart from herbalism, I just had your basic common classes, gardener, cook, hunter, day-to-day stuff.¡±

    ¡°Merchant, not quite sure I can negotiate my way out of this.¡±

    With that man speaking his peace, Attis went next, it was important they knew he was contributing, plus the more information he shared, the likelier it was the men would come trust him.

    ¡°I was a level sixty-seven clerk, I specialised in organising large projects, dealing with supply chains, staffing, project time and scale was how I earned a living.¡±

    ¡°I would not have thought you a clerk, especially such a high-level one.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never met a man above level seventy who wasn¡¯t ancient, it''s impressive.¡±

    ¡°Thank you but I am an odd case, I devoted all my free time to the class. I heard it was the easiest way to reach a hundred,¡± Attis replied, deciding to share something a little more personal with his fellow slaves.

    It¡¯s harder to betray a friend than a stranger, the more they know, the better my odds.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realise anyone still attempted such a feat.¡±

    ¡°The last ones I heard about died in the seventies, the highest I heard of was level eighty-one.¡±

    ¡°Hundred chasing always seemed a waste to me, rushing through a class, just think of the traits you¡¯d miss.¡±

    ¡°What is hundred chaser?¡± interrupted Bruto, his thickly accented voice easily putting an end to the chatter around him.

    ¡°Someone attempting to reach level one hundred in any class,¡± Attis replied somewhat surprised by the man¡¯s lack of knowledge on the subject.

    Maybe it''s not a common thing across cultures, maybe the teachings of Delias never spread north.

    ¡°Why hundred? Why not get many classes, more power, more skills?¡±

    ¡°They say that when you reach one hundred, you reach enlightenment, you can see a depth to your soul that was previously hidden from you. I wanted to see that enlightenment for myself, see what the soul is capable of. The philosopher Delias spoke of the soul¡¯s true power,¡± Attis answered before taking a quick moment to better phrase his next few words.

    ¡°It is said he could see the world in more detail, see the power you got for each activity, see how much you needed to reach another level. Achieve new levels and classes instantly without being at rest. The world was revealed to him as were the souls of other men, wounds were given numbers, he could see just how much health a wound could cost a man. I had to see if the legends were true, if such goldy power was possible?¡±

    Attis definitely felt his words had enraptured Bruto¡¯s attention and why wouldn¡¯t they have, who didn¡¯t want to learn of enlightenment and unlock the depth of one soul?

    ¡°And now you¡¯re fucked, a level one just like the rest of us.¡±

    That fact had definitely been a blow to Attis, one he had struggled with for days during his capture, but he had not lost hope yet. He had no idea if freedom would return his levels to him and if not, he still had time to do it all again. He still had a chance.

    ¡°Yes, thank you for reminding me,¡± Attis answered ignoring the small laughter of his fellows.

    It was likely the first time any of them had laughed in a long time and Attis wasn¡¯t about to interrupt that short moment of joy by returning to a more sombre conversation.

    He had made the first headway towards a bond with the group and he didn¡¯t want to push it, especially given how exhausted everyone was, both mentally and physically, Attis included.

    With the last of his gruel eaten and the precious water drank, it was time for Attis to get some rest, he would need whatever energy he could recover for tomorrow.

    Another hard day in this hell. I miss home. Roman bastards.

    His body was more than ready to rest and even when laid upon the hard cold ground, Attis felt sleep coming to him far easier than he could have imagined, but before he could drift into the safety of sleep, an all too familiar calling erupted within him.

    [Title Acquired- Slave Level 3]

    [Title Acquired- Slave Level 4]

    (Skill Acquired- Starvation Resilience Level 1)

    (Starvation Resilience- This skill represents the body¡¯s ability to operate without proper nutrition.)

    (Skill Acquired- Dehydration Resilience Level 1)

    (Dehydration Resilience- This skill represents the body¡¯s ability to function whilst dehydrated.)

    (Skill Acquired-Work Without Rest level 1)

    (Work Without Rest- This skill represents the body''s ability to continue working despite exhaustion and fatigue)

    (Obedience Path Expanded-Alone and Obedient)

    (Disobedience Path Expanded- Plots and Subterfuge)

    [Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 2]

    [Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 3]

    [Title Acquired- Gladiator Level 4]

    (Skill Acquired-Basic Offense Level 1)

    (Skill Acquired-Basic Defence level 1)

    (Skill Acquired- Commander level 1)

    I don¡¯t have the energy to examine each one, just another task for what will surely be a hellish morning.