Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 16 16

Three days before the performance match, Batiatus announced a piece of news.

"Tomorrow, rest from training for one day! The kitchen has prepared double portions of at and wine. There will be a bonfire at night! — To celebrate the victory in advance!"

The training ground instantly exploded.

Rest from training? Double at? And wine?

The gladiators were stunned at first, then burst into earth-shaking cheers.

These guys struggling on the line between life and death had not slled the real flavor of revelry for too long.

Even the usually most gloomy ones showed a bit of smile on their faces.

Only Lynx sneered coldly in his heart.

Celebrate victory?

The performance match hadn't even been fought yet. Celebrate what?

This was Batiatus's usual trick — using wine and at to numb the gladiators' nerves, make them relax their vigilance, and by the way… observe who would show their flaws when relaxed.

The old fox never did unprofitable business.

The next afternoon, a bonfire pile was set up in the open space in the center of the training ground.

Kitchen slaves carried out several barrels of low-quality wine — the kind that was so sour it made your teeth ache, but with a decent alcohol content.

The large pot of stewed at gave off a rare aty aroma. Although most of it was scraps, it was enough to make the gladiators' eyes green.

In the evening, the bonfire was lit.

The flas crackled, reflecting faces soaked in sweat and dust.

The gladiators sat around the bonfire, holding wooden bowls in their hands. The bowls contained murky wine and greasy chunks of at.

Laughter, cursing, and the sound of clashing bowls mixed together. The air was filled with a rough sll of alcohol, sweat, and at.

Lynx sat in a slightly farther corner, also holding a bowl in his hand, but he didn't drink much.

He was observing.

Crixus sat directly opposite the bonfire, surrounded by a few lackeys. He had already downed more than half a bowl of wine. His face was red and his neck thick. He was loudly boasting about his past "battle achievents".

Gisco and a few Gaul gladiators sat on the other side, singing in their hotown language while drinking. The tune was desolate.

Amir squeezed beside Lynx, sipping the wine in small mouthfuls. His eyes were bright. He obviously rarely experienced such occasions.

Mira also ca. As a healer, she was allowed to participate.

She didn't squeeze with the gladiators, but sat far away on the steps under the eaves, quietly watching the bonfire, holding a cup of clear water in her hands.

Lucretia did not appear — in this kind of occasion, Batiatus would not let her show her face.

Lynx was watching when his shoulder was suddenly patted.

"Hey! Lynx! Why aren't you drinking?"

A half-drunk gladiator ca over. It was Marcus, who had been thrown into the sand pit by him a few days ago.

This guy now looked at Lynx with complex eyes — fear and unwillingness, but with the alcohol kicking in, his courage also grew.

"Saving my capacity, waiting for you to toast ."

Lynx raised his bowl and clinked it with his.

Marcus grinned, tilted his head and gulped a large mouthful, wiped his mouth: "You kid… although a bit sinister, you are hard enough! In the performance match, kill those bastards from Nodis!"

"Definitely."

Lynx raised his bowl.

Marcus staggered away and went to pester others to drink.

Lynx put down his bowl and swept his gaze over the crowd.

He saw the instructor sitting on the other side of the bonfire, whispering sothing with a steward sent by Batiatus. His eyes occasionally glanced this way.

He also saw the thin and tall steward from the kitchen, diligently refilling wine for the gladiators, but every ti he passed by Crixus's group, he would stay a little longer and pour especially full.

There was a problem.

Lynx remained calm. He raised his bowl, pretended to drink, but actually only wet his lips.

The night grew deeper, the bonfire burned brighter.

Alcohol began to take effect.

The gladiators' voices grew louder. So started wrestling for fun, so sang with hoarse voices, so put their arms around each other's shoulders and bragged.

The suppressed atmosphere of the training ground was completely released in this short indulgence.

Lynx noticed that Crixus's side was the most rowdy.

That guy had already drunk until his eyes were red. He was pressing a lackey to the ground, using brute force to twist the man's arm. The lackey scread in pain, but the people around laughed loudly.

"Crixus! Enough!"

The instructor finally couldn't stand it and shouted to stop him.

Crixus let go, staggered to his feet, glared at the instructor, burped, and said: "What? Can't I have so fun?"

The instructor's face looked ugly, but he didn't say anything else — the performance match was imminent, he didn't want any extra trouble.

Crixus smiled triumphantly, his gaze swept over the crowd, and finally landed on Lynx.

He pushed aside the people beside him and staggered over.

The light of the bonfire danced on his face, reflecting a ferocious drunken face.

The surroundings gradually quieted down.

Everyone was looking this way.

Amir nervously leaned closer to Lynx.

Lynx sat without moving, still holding the bowl he hadn't drunk much from.

Crixus walked in front of him, looked down at him, and sprayed alcohol breath: "Lynx… why are you sitting here alone? Can't afford to drink?"

"Poor alcohol tolerance, saving so."

Lynx said flatly.

"Poor alcohol tolerance?"

Crixus sneered. "Then how are you going to fight in the performance match? Do you want… to teach you how to drink?"

As he spoke, he reached out to grab the bowl in Lynx's hand.

Lynx twisted his wrist, the bowl avoided his hand, still held steadily.

"No need to trouble yourself."

Crixus grabbed empty air, his face sank.

He stared at Lynx, suddenly grinned, turned and shouted to the crowd: "Brothers! Our great hero Lynx has poor alcohol tolerance! How can this be? The performance match is about seeing blood! If he doesn't even dare to drink wine, how dare he see blood?!"

A few gladiators close to him started to heckle.

"Yeah! Drink one!"

"Don't be a coward, Lynx!"

"Be a man and do it!"

The atmosphere suddenly beca tense.

Gisco stood up and wanted to say sothing, but was stopped by Lynx's look.

Lynx looked at Crixus and slowly stood up.

He was half a head shorter than Crixus, and his build was also much slimr.

But standing there, his presence was not weak at all.

"Crixus,"

He spoke, his voice not loud, but enough for the people around to hear. "I can drink the wine, but before drinking, I have a question for you."

"What question?"

"In the performance match," Lynx stared into his eyes, "do you want to win, or do you want to die?"

This question was very direct and sharp.

The surroundings instantly fell into dead silence.

Even the crackling of the bonfire sounded harsh.

Crixus's drunkenness faded a bit, his eyes flickering.

He didn't expect Lynx to bring it up so openly in front of so many people.

"You… what do you an?"

He stiffened his neck.

"The aning is very simple."

Lynx took a step forward, almost sticking to him. "If you only want to die, then there is no need for to drink this wine. Anyway, I will get stabbed in the back on the field. It's better to save so energy now."

"If you still want to win and get freedom, then put aside personal grudges. After winning the performance match, however you want to settle the score, I will accompany you."

He paused and raised the bowl in his hand: "Choose one, now."

Everyone's eyes were focused on Crixus's face.

The firelight illuminated his twisted expression.

He looked at Lynx, then at the gladiators around him who were staring at him — many of them had expectation in their eyes, or rather, a desire for victory.

If they win the performance match, everyone benefits.

If they lose, everyone suffers.

Even the stupidest person understood this truth.

Crixus gritted his teeth and finally squeezed out a sentence from his throat: "Of course I want to win!"

"Good."

Lynx nodded and raised his bowl. "Then this bowl is to victory."

He tilted his head back and poured all the remaining wine in the bowl down his throat.

The wine was very sour, very astringent, burning his throat.

But his face didn't change color.

After drinking, he turned the bowl upside down. Not a drop left.

Crixus stared at him. His facial muscles twitched a few tis. In the end, he also raised his own bowl, gulped it down, and then slamd the bowl hard on the ground!

"To victory!"

The surroundings erupted in cheers.

The tense atmosphere instantly eased.

Gisco led the applause, and the other gladiators followed suit.

"Well done!"

"That's more like it!"

"Kill Nodis!"

Crixus panted heavily, glared at Lynx, turned and staggered back to his group, and didn't cause any more trouble.

Early access to upcoming chapters is available on Patreon.

Support the translator and binge ahead! patreon/arthursink ans a lot – thank you! ✍️