Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 40 40

"Gentlen! Ladies! Honorable citizens of Capua!"

The host's voice spread to every corner of the arena through so crude amplification device. "The most exciting, the most blood-boiling mont — has arrived! Let us welco today's protagonists with the warst cheers — make your entrance!"

The iron grate door rose slowly with a harsh scraping sound.

A wave of heat mixed with sand and dust rushed toward them.

Marcus narrowed his eyes, adjusting to the sudden strong light.

He saw it.

The oval-shaped arena was fully four tis the size of the training ground put together.

The center was a pale yellow sand field, baked white by the noon sun, with distorted heat waves rising from it.

Surrounding it were tiered spectator seats like cascading waterfalls, packed with a dense, writhing sea of people.

The uppermost level was the commoner area, crowded and noisy.

The middle was the wealthy citizen class, dressed decently, pointing and discussing.

The lowest level, closest to the sand, was the noble seats, with wide awnings. Servants shuttled back and forth carrying fruits and fine wine. The senators in purple-trimd togas and noble ladies in light silk dresses gracefully fanned themselves, looking down at the sand with the leisurely and arrogant gaze of people watching cockfights or dogfights.

And in the center of the main stand directly opposite, Marcus spotted Batiatus at once.

He sat in a prominent position in the second row, surrounded by several richly dressed, pot-bellied n — probably owners of other gladiator schools or local influential nobles.

Lucretia sat right next to him, wearing a deep red cinched long dress, with a standard gentle and proper smile on her face. But Marcus could see that her hands resting on her knees were tightly twisted together, knuckles white.

Mira was not in the stands.

She should already be waiting in that small tavern near the dock, with a pack of life-saving herbs and bandages in her arms.

Marcus withdrew his gaze and looked at the sand under his feet.

White lines had already been drawn on the sand with li — their side was assigned to enter from the southeast corner, Nodis from the northwest corner.

There was about fifty steps of open, scorching hot sand between them.

On both sides of the sand field stood two rows of weapon racks, filled with all kinds of weapons: swords of various lengths, shields of different sizes, heavy spears, wide-bladed axes, nets with barbs, and tridents…

"Now, let solemnly introduce today's warriors!"

The host quickly walked to the center of the sand field, his voice trembling slightly from excitent. "First, from Nodis training camp, the ones that make countless opponents tremble — the 'Anvil' and 'Hamr' brothers!"

"Anvil" and "Hamr" strode out of the grate door and stepped onto the scorching sand.

The two simultaneously raised their heavy swords and shields and slamd them together with a loud "clang!"

The stands erupted in enthusiastic cheers and whistles.

"'Viper'!"

The tall thin man slid onto the sand like a ghost. The two daggers in his hands spun into a dazzling flurry of blades, winning a wave of excited screams.

"'Spider'!"

The short fat man dragged his strange black net onto the sand. The ropes left deep tracks in the sand, causing a burst of curious discussion.

"And —"

The host deliberately dragged out his voice to build suspense. "Nodis training camp's carefully prepared secret weapons, the mysterious brothers from the East — 'Shadow'!"

The twin brothers stepped expressionlessly onto the sand. They made no flashy movents and simply stood there silently.

But the audience was clearly very interested in this mysterious style. The cheers did not diminish at all.

After introducing the Nodis side, the host suddenly turned toward Marcus and the others, waving his arm even more vigorously.

"And their opponents are the pride of our local Capua, the warriors of Batiatus training camp! First, our familiar undefeated champion — Crixus!"

Crixus let out a low roar and charged onto the sand like a real beast, raising his heavy sword high and letting out a deafening roar.

The cheers instantly reached a new peak — after all, he was a gladiator star the local audience had watched grow up.

"The legend among newcors, the valiant warrior who fights against many — Marcus!"

Marcus steadily walked onto the sand.

He did not roar or wave his weapon. He simply raised the iron sword in his hand and perford a simple but standard gladiator salute to the stands around him.

The cheers were a bit quieter than before, but many spectators stretched their necks and pointed, obviously the rumor of him "killing an overseer with one punch" had already spread.

"The giant from the northern Germanic forests, the embodint of strength — Octavius!"

Octavius walked onto the sand with heavy steps. His mountain-like body and the door-like giant shield in his hand imdiately caused a wave of suppressed exclamations and admiration.

"And —"

The host's voice suddenly took on a hint of ambiguity and teasing. "A very special warrior, enough to make all gentlen's hearts race — the rose from the Thracian grasslands, the beautiful and deadly gladiator, Saxa!"

Saxa was the last to walk onto the sand.

She did not raise her weapon or salute. She simply slowly scanned the boiling stands, then the corner of her mouth hooked up into a wild and provocative smile.

The stands exploded instantly. Cheers, whistles, and catcalls mixed together — female gladiators always easily ignited the audience's most primitive excitent.

After the introductions, the host quickly retreated to the edge of the field.

"Clang——!!!"

The huge gong was struck heavily. The dull sound wave swept across the entire arena.

"Capua Founding Festival Glory Performance Match — Begin!!"

The iron grate door behind them slamd down with a crash, smashing heavily onto the ground and completely sealing off the only retreat.

On the sand field, under the scorching sunlight, ten people stood silently facing each other across fifty steps of burning-hot distance.

The sunlight was blindingly harsh. The sand was so hot that they could feel it through the soles of their shoes.

The mountain-crashing, sea-roaring cheers almost shattered their eardrums.

Marcus gripped the cold, hard hilt of his sword tightly and took a deep breath of the scorching, sand-filled air.

The performance had begun.

And the outco of this life-staking performance would decide far more than the life and death of just the four of them.

The lingering sound of the gong was still buzzing in the air. The ten people on the sand had already moved like arrows released from a bow.

On the Nodis side, "Anvil" and "Hamr" charged forward side by side like two heavy war chariots.

Their large shields protected their bodies. Their heavy swords dragged across the sand, leaving two deep grooves. Their footsteps were so heavy they made "thud thud" sounds, making the sand grains jump.

"Viper" crouched low behind their flank, body pressed low. The two daggers held in reverse grip flashed with chilling light. His narrow eyes were fixed dead on Marcus, and he hissed through his teeth.

"Spider" dragged his black net at the very back. He looked unhurried, but the net was already half unfolded, the iron barbs on it gleaming with a sinister light under the sun.

The "Shadow" brothers didn't rush to enter.

They stood close to the the stone wall at the base of the stands, arms crossed, coldly watching the sand field. Their eyes occasionally glanced toward the not-fully-closed hidden door at the southwest corner — clearly waiting for an opportunity.

Marcus's side moved as well.

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