Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 15 15

Novel: Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Author: Bruceink Updated: Jun 17, 2026

Font Size

18px

Now reading: Chapter 15 15 from Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator, a Action novel by Bruceink.

Mira thought for a mont and said softly: "My father used to say that hunters don't give their best bow and arrows to others unless they want that person to hunt the beast they can't kill."

Lynx's heart shook.

These words… woke him up.

Batiatus giving him the refined steel short sword was not because he valued him so much, but because the "beast" in the next fight was too fierce and needed a sharper blade.

What was that "beast"?

The four people from the Nodis training camp?

Or… sothing else?

"Your father was very smart."

Lynx said.

Mira smiled, a bit bitter: "Unfortunately, being smart couldn't save his life."

She applied the ointnt on Lynx and re-bandaged it.

"By the way,"

Mira suddenly said, "Be careful with your diet recently. I heard yesterday that soone in the kitchen was adding sothing to the gladiators' food."

Lynx's eyes narrowed: "Adding what?"

"I don't know,"

Mira shook her head. "A slave who delivers firewood secretly told . He saw the kitchen steward pour so white powder into the stew pot. He can't read and doesn't know what it was, but he felt sothing was wrong."

White powder…

Drugging?

Lynx rembered what Batiatus had said earlier — the Nodis training camp might drug the food.

Had they already started?

"Thank you for telling ."

Lynx said seriously.

Mira's face reddened: "I just… felt I should tell you. You saved my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Amir,"

Mira said in a low voice. "He is my half-brother from the sa father. He used to be bullied all the ti. After you taught him a few moves, he is much better now."

Lynx then rembered that Amir had indeed said his sister worked in the training ground.

It turned out to be Mira.

"No need to thank ,"

Lynx said. "Amir is quite clever. He is a good seedling."

Mira smiled. This ti the smile was sincere: "Thank you."

After bandaging, Lynx left the dical room.

He didn't return to his cell. Instead, he went straight to the kitchen.

It was ti to prepare dinner. The kitchen was steaming hot, and several slaves were busy.

The thin and tall steward was directing them, cursing non-stop.

Lynx stood at the door and didn't go in.

He observed for a while.

The thin and tall steward moved nimbly, but his eyes were shifty. He kept glancing at a small locked cabinet in the corner.

Lynx rembered it.

At dinner ti, the gladiators gathered in the ss hall, holding wooden bowls and lining up for stewed beans and black bread.

Lynx stood in the middle of the line.

When it was his turn, the one serving the food was a young slave. His hands were a bit shaking.

Lynx stared at him.

The young slave lowered his head, scooped a large spoonful of stewed beans into his bowl, and gave him a piece of black bread.

"Thank you."

Lynx said softly.

The young slave was stunned for a mont, looked up at him, his eyes a bit panicked, and quickly lowered his head again.

Lynx carried the bowl to a corner and sat down. He didn't eat imdiately.

He looked at the stewed beans in the bowl — it looked the sa as usual, a sticky lump.

He looked at the black bread — hard, and when broken open, the inside was also normal color.

But he was not at ease.

After the people around started eating, he picked up the spoon, scooped a small mouthful of beans, and put it in his mouth.

The taste… was a bit strange.

Not the kind of strange from spoilage, but with a faint, almost undetectable bitter taste.

Very slight. If you didn't pay attention, you couldn't taste it at all.

Lynx swallowed it and waited for a while.

His body had no reaction.

But he still decided not to eat any more.

He took the opportunity when no one was paying attention and poured the remaining beans into an empty bucket in the corner, keeping only the black bread — this one seed fine.

At night, the training ground gradually quieted down.

Lynx lay on the straw mat in his cell and didn't sleep.

He was waiting.

Waiting for a possible system prompt.

But one night passed, and nothing happened.

The next morning, he trained as usual, went to the dical room to "change dicine" as usual, and observed the ss hall situation as usual.

Everything was normal.

But that feeling of sothing being wrong beca stronger and stronger.

After training ended in the afternoon, Lynx went to find Gisco.

Gisco was wiping his sword. Seeing him co over, he grinned: "What's up?"

"Asking you sothing,"

Lynx sat down beside him. "Have you felt anything strange with the taste of the food recently?"

Gisco was stunned: "Taste? No, it's as bad as usual."

"Think carefully."

Gisco frowned and thought for a while, then suddenly said: "Now that you ntion it… the stewed beans do seem a bit more bitter than before, but I always thought the cook was cutting corners and the beans weren't cooked well."

Lynx had a good idea.

It wasn't targeting him alone.

Everyone's food had been tampered with.

But the dose was very light, so light that it was almost unnoticeable and wouldn't produce obvious effects imdiately.

Chronic poison? Or so kind of drug that weakens physical strength?

"What's wrong?"

Gisco asked. "Is there a problem?"

"Possibly,"

Lynx said. "Be careful with your als these days. Try not to eat if you can. The black bread should be fine."

Gisco's face beca serious: "Soone is drugging the food?"

"Not sure, but it's always better to be on guard."

"Fuck…"

Gisco cursed. "It must be those bastards from Nodis! Weakening our strength before the performance match. Really sinister!"

Lynx didn't speak.

He felt it might not necessarily be Nodis.

The kitchen of the training camp was firmly controlled by Batiatus. Outsiders would find it very difficult to tamper with it.

Unless… there was an insider.

Or Batiatus himself allowed it.

Why?

To make the performance match more "exciting"?

To make the gladiators weaker, fight more brutally, and make the audience more stimulated?

Lynx rembered Batiatus's face that always had a smile.

The old fox… was really capable of doing it.

"Thank you, brother,"

Gisco patted his shoulder. "I will be careful. Should we tell the others about this?"

Lynx thought for a mont and shook his head: "Not for now. Without evidence, saying it would only alert the enemy. Privately remind a few trustworthy ones."

"Understood."

After leaving Gisco, Lynx returned to his cell.

He took out the refined steel short sword from under the straw mat and checked it carefully again.

This ti, he found sothing.

At the end of the hilt, the tal ball used for balance had an almost invisible seam.

Lynx pried at the seam with his fingernail. The seam was tight and wouldn't open.

He thought for a mont, took out the ointnt jar Mira had given him from the system space — the edge of the clay jar was thin but hard enough.

He carefully pried the seam with the edge of the jar.

Click.

With a light sound, the tal ball opened.

Inside was empty.

But there was a tiny bit of white powder on the inner wall.

Very little, so little that if you didn't look carefully, you wouldn't notice it at all.

Lynx dipped a bit with his finger and slled it.

Colorless and odorless.

Different from the bitter taste in the food.

What was this?

He didn't dare taste it. He wiped his finger clean with cloth and closed the tal ball again.

Now he understood.

This sword was indeed a good sword.

But it was also a poisoned sword.

Sothing was hidden in the hilt. It could be poison or sothing else.

When he held the sword for a long ti during battle, his palm sweating and heating up, those powders might slowly seep out and enter the body through the skin.

Chronic poisoning? Physical strength decline? Or even more terrible consequences?

What exactly did Batiatus want to do?

Lynx stared at the sword in his hand, his eyes becoming colder and colder.

The old fox gave him this sword not to let him win.

It was to let him… slowly get ruined in the process of winning.

Win the performance match, beco a star, then go to Ro…

But a gladiator who has been chronically poisoned, how long can he live?

By the ti he reaches Ro, he will either die in the arena or retire due to "accidental" injury or illness.

And Batiatus will have squeezed all the value from him.

Good calculation.

Really fucking good calculation.

Lynx put the sword back in the wooden box and placed it under the straw mat.