Huer

Rise of the Gladiator King follows Valerian, a fierce gladiator with a past shrouded in mystery, as he fights for survival in the blood-soaked arenas of Rome. Known for his reckless nature and unpredictable strength, Valerian’s life takes an unexpected turn when he is chosen as the vessel for Spartacus, the legendary gladiator-turned-rebel who once sought to overthrow Rome.

As Valerian’s connection to Spartacus grows, he uncovers hidden secrets about the empire’s corrupt rulers, ancient spirits that wield unimaginable power, and a conspiracy that threatens the very foundation of Rome. With a volatile temper and a deep sense of honor, Valerian must decide whether to follow Spartacus’s vision of freedom or create his own path toward power.

In a world where strength is everything and loyalty can be bought, Valerian will rise as a king, but not without making enemies who will stop at nothing to see him fall. The arena is only the beginning—what will Valerian do when the real battle for control begins?

Rise of the Gladiator King

The training yard smelled of dust and sweat, the clanking of steel echoing in the open air. Valerian stood in the center, gripping the wooden gladius Garro had thrown him. Around him, seasoned fighters leaned against the stone walls, watching with mild amusement.

Garro rolled his shoulders, stepping into the makeshift ring. "We'll start light. I want to see how you move."

Valerian didn't respond. His body was already shifting into a stance, his eyes locked onto Garro.

The veteran grinned. "Good. Let's begin."

Valerian barely had time to react before Garro's wooden blade was a blur. He sidestepped, bringing his own weapon up to parry—only for the impact to send a jolt through his arms.

Garro was testing him, feeling out his limits. But Valerian didn't intend to be an easy opponent.

He retaliated with a swift thrust aimed at Garro's ribs. The older man twisted, deflecting it with ease, then countered with a downward slash.

Valerian stepped back, barely dodging, his instincts screaming. He wasn't fighting some undisciplined street thug—this was a warrior who had spent years in the arena.

Gritting his teeth, he changed tactics. Instead of waiting, he pressed forward, slashing in quick, controlled strikes. Garro blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third grazed his forearm.

A pause. Then Garro smirked. "Not bad."

Before Valerian could react, Garro's foot swept forward.

Valerian lost his balance, crashing onto the dirt. The impact forced the air from his lungs, and before he could rise, a wooden blade rested against his throat.

Garro stepped back, offering a hand. "You fight well, but you rely too much on instinct. That'll get you killed in the arena."

Valerian took the offered hand, standing. His heart pounded, not from fear—but excitement.

This was the kind of challenge he had been waiting for.

From the sidelines, Darius watched, arms crossed. "He'll do."

The gathered gladiators muttered among themselves. Some looked unimpressed. Others, curious.

Garro patted Valerian's shoulder. "Rest up. Tomorrow, you step into the pit."

The First Trial