That was a memory from when I was still training in the gladiator school.
Spartacus never thought before that he would fall into the same situation as the slaves he had once kidnapped and sold.
But it wasn't until he was sent into the arena in full armor and forced to fight another man that Spartacus accepted the reality.
Fortunately, this gladiatorial fight with only a few people watching was not worth the consumption of slaves by the organizer behind the scenes, so there was no need to decide life and death in this battle.
His previous experience as a soldier also gave Spartacus the upper hand, so he was valued by the head of the Gladiator School and bought him.
Spartacus became a Thracian sword fighter befitting his native Thrace.
The subsequent training is very difficult, and the slaves who train may be attacked by their "companions" at any time.
Perhaps because of jealousy of Spartacus Xiaozao, or perhaps because of the defeat in the last training, Spartacus was attacked by another slave.
The sharpened wooden fork stabbed hard into Spartacus's arm——but he had already reacted and reached out to block.
Otherwise, it would not be his forearm but his throat that was bleeding out now.
"ah!"
Spartacus, dominated by pain and anger, did not just let him go. Spartacus roared and strangled the slave's neck with both hands. A strong adult was in Spartacus's hands. He was picked up as easily as a chicken.
The slave who attacked him moved his hands wildly, tearing at Spartacus's arms.
Traces of blood appeared on Spartacus's skin, but this did not hinder his movements at all.
Spartacus pressed the slave's body tightly against the wall with one hand, and dragged his hair with the other hand, slamming the slave's face into the wall.
"Bang——! Bang——! Bang——! Bang——!"
The dull sound echoed in the dark and narrow cafeteria.
The other gladiators around them all lowered their heads and silently ate the sparse meals in their bowls.
Afraid of getting involved.
After an unknown amount of time, the gladiator instructor who heard the noise arrived with a few followers and separated the two.
Only the bloodstains and grooves on the dirty walls proved what had just happened here.
The slave only had a broken nose and was eventually punished by being tied to a stake and exposed to the sun for a day, and Spartacus would also be punished as a member of the fight.
But everyone knew that the owner of the arena had high hopes for Spartacus and was waiting for him to show off his talents at the celebration that would be attended by the elders of the Republic.
Otherwise, the meat that belonged to Spartacus alone would not still be respectfully left on the table.
The more competitive and brave Spartacus is here, the happier the owner of the gladiator school will be, and the higher the price Spartacus will be able to sell in the future.
Just look at his size and you will know that Spartacus is the kind of gladiator who has the potential to become the best among very few people.
There is no need to pay blood, you only need to appear to win the cheers of the audience, and even have the opportunity to be valued by the noble ladies of Rome and spend a lot of money to buy it, and finally leave this place.
Spartacus's life in the gladiator school was not too bad.
Symbolically wearing shackles, Spartacus sat in the shade of the building and looked at the slave who was sweating under the hot sun. The sweat dripped down his already soaked burlap clothes, and finally mixed with the bare yellow sand on the ground.
The blood under his nose has not been wiped clean yet, and the bridge of his nose that was broken by Spartacus pressing against the wall yesterday has only been briefly reset.
Spartacus looked up at the sky. The Mediterranean summer sun had just reached the middle of the southern sky.
I'm afraid he won't even be able to break a sweat in another afternoon.
It would not be surprising even if the slave suddenly died of heatstroke the next day.
But he still stared at Spartacus, with no sign of surrender in his eyes.
The instructor of the gladiator school had actually hinted that as long as Spartacus acquiesced, the slave could be spared this time.
After all, the boss behind the scenes doesn't want his property to die for this reason.
If he really deserves to die, they will throw him directly in front of the lions and let the slave's life shine for the last time.
If the slave defeated the lion, so much the better. The owner of the arena would have found a treasure in the sand.
"Pooh--"
But the slave who dared to attack Spartacus not only did not give in, but even spat at him.
The saliva, which reflected the sun and appeared crystal clear in mid-air, drew an arc.
But the saliva failed to hit Spartacus himself in the end, and it just landed in the shade where he was sitting.
Spartacus looked at the saliva in front of him, brought the shackles holding his hands close to his face, and then scratched his cheek with his right hand.
He looked up at the slave again.
"If you don't cherish water, you won't be able to see the sun tomorrow."
Spartacus walked out of the shadows and came to the slave and said.
The scorching sun was blocked by Spartacus's tall body, and the slave got some coolness after a long absence.
But the slave still didn't say much to Spartacus.
"Why are you attacking me? Is it because my meals are better than yours? Or is it because I defeated you before?"
"..."
The slave looked up at Spartacus, who was standing in front of him, but still did not speak.
Spartacus frowned, turned and walked back to the shade, picked up a handful of water from the water urn with his shackled hands, and then brought it to the slave.
However, facing the standing Spartacus and the water source close at hand, the slave who attacked him actually turned his head to the side.
.........
Spartacus understood this time, he just simply hated himself.
But why?
Spartacus tried to kneel down halfway, as if he was serving a noble, and offered the water in his hand to the slave's mouth.
This time the slave did not refuse him and drank heavily from the water in Spartacus's hand.
The cracked lips were moisturized again, and the dull eyes became brighter.
The slave drank the water from Spartacus's hand and licked away every drop of water between his fingers.
The slaves around him watched in disbelief as Spartacus knelt down and fed water to the slave who would not survive tomorrow.
"Pooh!"
However, the slave repaid kindness with revenge and spat on Spartacus's face again.
This time there was almost no distance between them, and the saliva hit Spartacus on the bridge of his nose accurately.
Spartacus was stunned, but just as he was about to have a seizure, he saw with the corner of his eye several nobles on the balcony not far away, looking down at them and pointing at the gladiators.
The head of the gladiator school was standing next to those people, apparently introducing how good the gladiators trained under his command were.
I'm afraid he, Spartacus, is also in the person in charge's bragging.
As if introducing the fattest sheep in the sheepfold, the head of the Gladiator School pointed his finger at him.
Spartacus turned his head again and looked at the slave tied to the stake in front of him.
"Hahaha, hahahaha, hahahaha————!"
He suddenly understood something and started laughing wildly.
While smiling, Spartacus knelt on the ground with both knees.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha——"
The slave who was tied to the pillar also began to laugh loudly after seeing Spartacus's appearance.
The two of them laughed loudly in the courtyard of the Gladiator School.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"
No one but the two of them understood why they were laughing.
Until this moment, Spartacus truly seemed like a slave.
That night, Spartacus received instructions from the instructor. The head of the gladiator school asked him to perform a gladiatorial performance for the nobles who came from Rome in a few days.
If possible, it would be best to let them see blood.
Spartacus agreed to the instructor, and his opponent happened to be the slave who was punished today——if he is still alive tomorrow.
After returning to his bed, Spartacus stared at the dimly lit corner, thinking silently.
Although he accepted the fact that he became a gladiator, Spartacus never lost the sense of freedom.
The memory of fighting as a soldier seems like yesterday.
Although Spartacus was not a citizen of Rome, he was much better off as a freeman than as a slave.
It was as if he was just traveling in this building now and could leave at any time.
Spartacus walked to the gate of the gladiator school, where he was guarded by several slaves in full armor, staring closely at every gladiator who tried to escape.
Outside the gate is a dried corpse hung high on a cross.
His legs were folded, and there were only a few sparse strands of hair left. The flesh and blood on his body had long since dried up, and his white skull could be faintly seen through his scalp.
The internal organs and face were eaten to pieces by crows or other birds.
The owner of the body had died long before Spartacus arrived, and according to other gladiators, the body had been hanging there for at least half a year.
He attempted to escape, and succeeded in killing a guard who stood in his way.
But the end that was left to him in the end was to be hung on a cross, to death while still alive, as a warning to others.
.......
After seeing Spartacus arriving, the guards guarding the gate couldn't help but tighten their grip on the spears in their hands and the daggers at their waists.
The fighting prowess of the two-meter-tall giant in front of him was obvious to everyone in the gladiator school after the recent competitive performances.
Spartacus gradually walked out of the shadows, and the guards saw clearly what Spartacus looked like now.
Unarmed and unarmored, he simply walked towards them.
Seeing that Spartacus didn't look like he was about to escape, the guards breathed a sigh of relief, but they still didn't dare to let go of the weapons they clenched in their hands.
"What are you here for?"
Spartacus glanced at the guards holding their weapons tightly, narrowed his eyes slightly, and then sighed calmly.
But then, a smile appeared on his face.
"Where are your hometowns?"
There was a trace of astonishment on the faces of the guards.
For slaves, hometown and past are two words that can only appear in dreams. They don't even exist in dreams and have long been forgotten in their minds.
Spartacus understood this too.
He understood that he was about to bid farewell to his past completely, and that he could only be reduced to a plaything to please others for the rest of his life, unless————————.
The slave only made Spartacus realize the current situation, that's all.
............
Time soon came to the day when the gladiator was scheduled to fight in advance. Before officially performing in front of the nobles of the Senate and the citizens of Rome, each gladiator would be reviewed in advance to ensure that he could perform in front of everyone that day. Give the most "perfect" performance.
Even if they admit defeat or die, gladiators have their own unique process.
Let the common people sitting on the high platform despise the losers, and also let them be crazy about the winners.
"Are you sure you don't want to kill me directly?"
In the "prison" of the arena, enduring the pain to reset the bridge of his nose, the slave said to Spartacus, who picked up the weapon.
After laughing together that day, the two of them had developed some friendship.
The slave also knew that Spartacus' future as a gladiator would never be like him.
Spartacus picked up his dagger and held in his hand a square shield that was slightly smaller than the shield the slave was holding now.
"Then what?"
Spartacus looked at the slave.
"You have a bright future."
"So you personally spit in the face of me, a slave with a bright future?"
The slave nodded and laughed.
"...No one can force me to kill another person, not even a god."
After waiting for the slave to finish laughing, Spartacus let out a long sigh, as if he could see through the wall, and glanced into the distance.
The other slaves in the Gladiator School, even the guards, stepped out of the shadows behind Spartacus.
"You can't succeed."
"What if it succeeds? The Sicilian pirates can take us away from Rome, and then we can each return to our hometowns - or even establish a country without slaves."
"you are dreaming."
"Then you might as well make your dreams more beautiful."
Spartacus grinned and looked at the slave with a smile.
"Tell me, how long have you been a slave—ten years? Twenty years?"
Before the slave could answer, Spartacus put his hand on his shoulder.
"At least today, you are no longer."
The slave looked at Spartacus's palm on his shoulder and said nothing.
"Perhaps we will be executed after failure, but if we don't do this, we will die in the arena one day. Since it is all death, why not die for freedom?"
Spartacus said while putting the armor on himself.
"At least I would rather die on the battlefield for freedom than die in the arena for the enjoyment of others."
Spartacus put the helmet on his head, then passed the slave and rushed into the arena illuminated by the midday sun.
Before the person in charge on the stage could introduce Spartacus to the nobles, what happened next shocked them.
Spartacus did not wait for his opponent to enter, but directly thrust the blade into the referee's chest.
Several spectators who didn't know the truth were still cheering for this, but the next second the arena leader was hit by the shield thrown by Spartacus, causing them to panic instantly.
The gladiators who then filed out quickly defeated the slaves who did not want to join them in the uprising.
The nobles and spectators began to flee towards the exit, but Spartacus did not stop them.
Soon, news of their revolt would spread throughout Rome.
More oppressed people would join them, more oppressors would be defeated, and they would give the Senate a headache.
They will eventually number in the thousands and will eventually become a force to be reckoned with.
Maybe they will eventually fail and die, but they will definitely leave their own mark in the history of this country and the world.
Eventually, they will rebel against their oppressors.
"for freedom------!"
Spartacus roared angrily, leading his defeated companions in a final charge.
Then, countless spears penetrated his body, and countless swords were added to his body.
Eventually, Spartacus's body could no longer be identified.
"for freedom------!"
But Spartacus still didn't stop roaring and rebelling.
Spear and sword could not stop him, nor yoke and cudgel.
So, with the rod and sword stuck in his body, Spartacus walked step by step towards Octavian, who was sitting on the high platform, towards the oppressor.
He will smile and wage eternal rebellion against his oppressors.
