Chapter 10: The Game of Lions

The morning air was thick with the scent of baked bread, livestock, and the sweat of thousands of Romans as James's carriage rolled through the stone-paved streets of the Eternal City. Merchants shouted their prices, beggars whispered prayers for alms, and slaves scurried about, avoiding the boots of their masters.

James sat inside the lavishly decorated carriage, a gift from Crassus, while Angela sat beside him, her expression wary.

"Master," she whispered, leaning closer. "Crassus summoned you too soon after the assassination attempt. He might already know about Marcus Domitius's failure."

James smirked. "Then let's see how much he truly knows."

The carriage passed through a massive stone archway, the emblem of House Licinius carved into its pillars.

Crassus's estate was even more opulent than before. Today, however, James was not the only guest.

Inside the grand feasting hall, Crassus sat at the head of a long marble table, a goblet of golden Falernian wine in his hand. Around him sat other Roman elites, their silk togas and jeweled rings marking their wealth.

James recognized three of them immediately.

Quintus Caecilius Metellus – A Senator, known for his cunning mind and deep pockets.Gaius Cassius Longinus – A rising general, famous for his hatred of tyrants.Lucius Cornelius Sulla – A former consul, now gathering strength for his future wars.

Angela stiffened as James entered. "These aren't just nobles, Master," she whispered. "These are men who shape Rome itself."

James smirked. "Then I'm exactly where I need to be."

Crassus's sharp eyes met James's as he gestured to an open seat. "Ah, James! Join us. We were just discussing… the future."

James took his seat, keeping his expression calm and confident.

Sulla, the most dangerous man in the room, sipped his wine before speaking. "Word in the streets says that a new slaveholder has been making waves in the arena."

Cassius smirked. "Yes. They say he sent Marcus Domitius a… gift."

A few nobles chuckled.

James didn't blink. "If a man sends dogs to bite me, I return them with their heads removed."

Metellus grinned. "You're either very brave… or very foolish."

Crassus chuckled. "He is ambitious. And that is why we are all here, isn't it?"

The room fell silent.

James leaned forward slightly. "Then let's not waste time. Why am I here?"

Crassus set his goblet down. "Because Rome is changing, James. The Senate, the generals, the nobles—we are all preparing."

James's mind sharpened. "Preparing for what?"

Sulla answered coldly. "For war."

James's smirk faded.

Crassus gestured to a massive map of the Roman Republic. "The Social War has just ended, but the wounds still bleed. Rome is divided. And when Rome is divided, men like us… thrive."

Metellus nodded. "A war is coming. And when it does, only the strongest will survive."

Cassius grinned darkly. "The question is, James… will you be among them?"

James exhaled slowly. "So you're offering me a chance to pick a side?"

Crassus smiled. "Not quite. I am offering you power—if you can prove yourself worthy."

James met his gaze. "How?"

Crassus's expression turned sharp. "Win the Venatio. And do not just win—dominate. Show Rome that you are not just a slaveholder. Show them that you are a man who commands armies."

James nodded slowly. "And if I do?"

Crassus leaned forward. "Then I will introduce you to the real power behind Rome."

Angela's breath caught. James's heart pounded.

"The real power?"

Cassius smirked. "Are you prepared for that world, James? The arena is brutal, but Rome's true battlefield is the Senate and the army."

James grinned. "Then it's a good thing I enjoy a challenge."

Crassus laughed. "Then we agree!"

James raised his goblet. "To war, then."

The nobles all smirked—because in Rome, every man was a lion, and the weak were nothing but prey.

Back at the estate, James stood before Varro and his gladiators.

"The Venatio is tomorrow," James said, his voice steady. "This is not just a fight. This is a message to Rome."

Varro clenched his fist. "We will not lose, Master."

James nodded. "No. We won't."

He opened his system panel.

[Beep! You have earned 15 unallocated stat points.]

James smirked. "Perfect."

He poured the points into Varro's Strength and Dexterity.

[Beep! Varro's stats increased!]

Varro shivered slightly, his muscles tightening, his body growing stronger.

He lifted his gladius, testing the weight. "I feel… different."

James grinned. "You are. Now show Rome why they should fear us."

As the moon rose, far across the city, in a lavish villa, Marcus Domitius sat with a different kind of gathering—mercenaries, assassins, and rival slaveholders.

A lanky man in a hooded cloak leaned forward. "James Stone is gaining too much power."

Domitius smirked, swirling his wine. "Yes. And that is why we will take it away from him."

A scarred gladiator trainer sneered. "His fighter, Varro, is strong. But we can make sure he never leaves the arena alive."

Domitius's eyes gleamed darkly. "Do it."

The plans were set.

Tomorrow, in the Venatio, James would either rise to power—or be buried in the sands of the Colosseum.

As the first light of dawn broke over Rome, James stood on the balcony of his estate, looking toward the Colosseum in the distance.

Angela stepped beside him. "It's time, Master."

James smirked.

"Then let's go show Rome… why I will rule it."