3

To understand the sheer brutality and ruthlessness of this way of life, one fact was enough: we were given only one meal a day after noon. That meant eternal hunger. On such rations, it was impossible to grow stronger, impossible to develop. The body slowly wasted away, and no one cared about those who couldn't keep up.

Everything boiled down to a simple rule: after the midday meal, each boy had time until sunset. His main goal was to get food by any means necessary. The method didn't matter. The only thing that did was not getting caught.

But what could a seven-year-old child do? Strength was scarce, skills even more so. That left only one option: stealing from one's own. Anything could be a target so long as you didn't get caught. Otherwise, there would be punishment.

I had a plan. If everything went smoothly, I could stock up on food.

But for now, I needed to focus on training.

The first session in the morning was physical conditioning. Enduring it on an empty stomach was pure torment.

Running across rough terrain was a trial that rarely ended without injuries. Many tripped, fell, and tore their feet to shreds. I, too, had stumbled more than once, stripping the skin from my legs on the jagged stones. Falling behind meant the lash. I had to endure the pain to avoid suffering even more wounds.

After physical exercises, we were given only half an hour to catch our breath before practice began. We wouldn't be given weapons until we turned twelve. These five years were devoted solely to physical conditioning and mental development. Only after twelve would we learn weapon mastery, tactics, and battle strategy.

Today's training method was simple: throw your opponent onto his back you win. There were no rewards for victory, no punishments for defeat. But pride pride was everything. We were raised to see failure as a stain on our honor. That's why everyone fought with everything they had.

I wasn't the strongest, but I always sparred with Damippus.

"Come on, attack! You're hesitating today," I sneered, watching my opponent.

It was hard to call him a friend, but we spent a lot of time together.

He stared at me intently losing to me had long since become tiresome for him. I was physically weaker, which forced me to fight smarter. Taking the initiative was a luxury I couldn't afford.

He stepped forward, swinging his left hand. I was already prepared to dodge, but the strike never came. Instead, he suddenly changed direction, feinted, and swept my legs out from under me.

I didn't even have time to react he grabbed me and slammed me onto my back.

"You lost, Damocles," Damippus smirked.

"Yes, I lost," I muttered, still in shock. He had changed his tactics so suddenly that I hadn't even realized what he was doing. "You've gotten smarter."

"I learned from you," he grinned, offering me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet.

The matches were over, and we were sent to the elders those who preserved the knowledge of warfare and kept the glorious deeds of Spartan warriors alive.

The stories of many legendary soldiers weren't passed down through books but by word of mouth. How much truth remained in these tales, no one knew. Too much depended on the storyteller's memory. Only books could preserve at least a fragment of the truth.

"Today, I will tell you the story of a Spartan squad that single-handedly destroyed a hundred terrible creatures centaurs," the elder declared.

He pulled out a small scroll depicting a centaur a creature with the torso of a man and the body of a horse.

I was hearing more and more about mythical beings and was beginning to understand: I wasn't just in ancient Greece.

"The squad was sent to a village to protect it from the monsters that plagued it. According to reports, there were only three or four creatures there. So, only ten true men of Sparta were dispatched for the mission.

Upon arrival, they proudly took up their posts, standing guard to ensure the villagers' safety. At dawn, three centaurs burst into the village, spreading chaos and destruction. The warriors swiftly slew two of them, but the third managed to escape.

The next day, he returned with an entire army of his kind.

The Spartans did not waver, nor did they retreat. They formed a tight phalanx, shields locked, standing shoulder to shoulder. Their spears were aimed directly at the enemy. The battle began.

Their formation was unyielding, unbreakable. Spears pierced the centaurs, tearing through their ranks. The beasts were wild, furious but the Spartans fought to the last.

When the final drop of blood was spilled, victory belonged to Sparta.

They had slain all the monsters but at the cost of their own lives.

Their sacrifice was never forgotten."

"This was the glorious path of those warriors," the elder concluded his tale.

It was hard for me to imagine a handful of warriors managing to defeat so many foes.

I saw how the children's eyes burned with excitement from the story they had just heard. They absorbed every word, filled with its strength. Perhaps this was the essence of their faith. It didn't matter how powerful the enemy was they believed that victory was always possible. And it seemed that this belief was precisely why, no matter how dire the situation, Spartans fought to the very end. It was in their blood. Their mindset differed from that of any other Greek army.

At last, it was time for the midday meal. The food was terrible but still provided some nourishment the only thing we had.

A dark, unappetizing broth filled the bowl, with chunks of something unidentifiable floating within it. The scent of blood mixed with some other vile stench, turning it into a barely edible mass.

After finishing my meal, I stood up, slowly stepped away from the mess hall, and started observing the supply cart.

I had noticed that it passed by at nearly the same time each day, following the same route.

Getting close to the kitchen itself was nearly impossible too well guarded. But along the way, the cart was only protected by four Spartans and a single driver.

"What are you up to?" a voice suddenly asked.

I flinched.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," I muttered, feeling my insides clench.

"So, what are you planning?" Damipp repeated, squinting at me.

"A little scheme," I smirked.

"What's a scheme?" he frowned.

"Doesn't matter. Let's just say it's a clever trick to get some food," I explained.

"That's impossible," Damipp shook his head. "We can't take on armed warriors."

I didn't expect to hear such words from him. He was usually fearless, even in front of the older boys.

"That's true, but we can trick them. All we need to do is make them step away from the cart. We'll dig a pit in the road, cover it with a wooden lid, and when the cart stops next to it, I'll slip out, grab a couple of sacks of food, and hide. The only problem is figuring out how to get out of morning training," I said thoughtfully.

"We fight," Damipp shrugged.

Of course. We could start a fight, and often that was enough to be excused from training. They actually encouraged us to challenge each other constantly, so there wouldn't be any real punishment.

"Let's go. We need to prepare the trap," I said firmly.

First, we found the perfect spot for the pit. Marking it with stones, we headed into the forest to collect branches for the cover. Using nettle as rope, we tied them together into a single platform.

Once that was done, I took a flat stone and started digging, tossing the dirt aside while Damipp carried it further away from the road. The work took us until late evening.

Luckily, few people passed this way the road was used mostly for the morning food delivery.

When the pit was ready, we placed the disguised cover over it, smeared it with clay, and then headed to the river. Bringing back some water, we carefully dampened the clay so it would stick better to the branches, then sprinkled dust and dirt over it.

When we were finished, I wiped my forehead, examined our work, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Is it noticeable?" I asked aloud, inspecting the trap.

"No. But how will you distract them?" Damipp asked.

"Bloodied bandages. We'll hang them on a stick and make a bit of a mess, as if a fight took place here. That should get the guards to investigate, thinking there might be an ambush," I explained, watching him for a reaction.

"It should work... But what if it doesn't?" he asked, frowning.

"Then we stay hungry and figure out another way to get food," I shrugged.

We hurried back to camp before sunset. If you weren't there during roll call, the punishment would be severe.

"There you are. Where have you been?" Aretid's voice rang out.

"We were hunting," I replied calmly.

He narrowed his eyes, studying us carefully.

"I see," he finally nodded but said nothing more.

The older boys lined us up and counted everyone. Only then were we dismissed to sleep.

I had been in the camp for several months, and despite the harsh conditions, my abilities were growing.

*

Name: DamoclesAge: 7 years

Strength (Physical Power): 5

Agility (Speed, Reflexes, Evasion): 4

Endurance (Resistance to Disease, Fatigue, Survival): 4

Intelligence (Comprehension, Learning, Languages): 4

Charisma (Leadership, Inspiration, Eloquence): 3

Talents

Son of Sparta – +1 to initial attributes.

Evasion (4%) – You have a small chance to avoid a fatal blow. Your body has already endured numerous injuries that could have been lethal. Over time, your system has adapted to react to threats.

Resilience – If your opponent's strength is greater than yours, it becomes easier for you to block their attacks. You have endured many blows, and now your body has begun to adapt to them.

Abilities

Disease Immunity (Passive) – When your body is infected by a virus or illness, your endurance temporarily increases by +2.

Combat Mastery, Level 2 (Passive) – Increases agility and endurance by 6% during battle. Enhances attacks, helps identify enemy weak points, improves defense, and aids in counterattacks.

Swordsmanship, Level 2 – You are only at the beginning of your warrior's journey but can already handle a sword decently.

Debuffs

Hunger – Reduces attributes by 30%. Due to prolonged starvation, your body lacks essential nutrients.

*