Chapter 23: Libertas

The days after "The Game of Five Queens" passed in a strange tension. Ulysses felt a shift in the ludus's atmosphere. Whispers among the servant slaves. Calculated glances from Batiatus. And most notably, invitations from Lucretia simply to accompany her when receiving guests. The noblewomen would look at him with a new gaze, full of secrets and promises.

The seeds he had planted had begun to grow. He knew the fight for his freedom was coming soon.

That night, in his now improved room, a privilege for a champion, he sat alone in the silence. He closed his eyes and focused inward. He could feel the power pulsating within him. 263 Essence. A treasure he had accumulated through slime, sweat, and various acts that would forever mark a soul that had never done such a thing in his luxurious life, which almost drained all his sperm.

It was time to prepare for his final war.

He called up the system panel. The blue light glowed before his closed eyes.

{Stored Essence: 263}

{Notification: Ready to unlock new [Legacy]}

He knew what he needed. A one-against-five fight wasn't about strength. It was about surviving encirclement.

His intent locked. Talent.

The panel flickered, displaying several options. His eyes scanned past [Talent] Raw Strength and [Talent] Lightning Reflexes. Not those. Then he saw it.

[Talent] 360-Degree Awareness: Enhanced instincts and spatial awareness of all threats around the host.

He chose it. {100 Essence used.}

There was no surge of energy. The sensation was far stranger. His awareness felt expanded. He didn't turn his head, but he could feel the position of the table behind him. He could feel the vibration of a guard's footsteps walking down the corridor outside his door. His vision was still straight ahead. His mind now had a 360-degree map of his surroundings.

The panel glowed again.

{Stored Essence: 163}

{Notification: Ready to unlock new [Legacy]}

One more. This time for his future. For life after this. He needed more than just instincts to survive in the world of nobles. He needed knowledge.

His intent locked. Knowledge.

{Available Knowledge Options:}

{- [Knowledge] Oratory & Rhetoric (Tier 1)}

{- [Knowledge] Economics & Trade (Tier 1)}

{- [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics (Tier 1)}

The choice was easy. In Rome, the path to the Senate often began on the battlefield.

He chose [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics. {100 Essence used.}

The sensation was an enlightenment. A torrent of information flooded his mind. Testudo formations, pincer maneuvers, the importance of high ground, how to break cavalry lines. All the Doctore's training sessions he had ever endured now had a completely new context. He didn't just see movements. He saw the strategy behind them.

He opened his eyes. The world still looked the same, but he saw it differently. He now had eyes in the back of his head and the mind of a general.

The next morning, as he watched the recruits train in the yard, he no longer just saw chaotic brawls. He saw tactical errors. He saw gaps in their defenses. He saw how three of them could easily be defeated if their formation was broken.

Suddenly, Doctore stood there. "Batiatus calls for you," he said. "News from the Magistrates."

Ulysses nodded, his face calm. He was ready. He now held two new weapons, and he knew exactly how to use them.

Ulysses followed Doctore through the familiar corridors of the villa. He was led to Batiatus's private study. Inside, the lanista paced like a caged lion, his face flushed with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Lucretia sat calmly in a chair, but Ulysses, with his Basic Psychology, could see the tension in her hands gripping the armrest.

"Ulysses!" Batiatus greeted him with an overly loud voice. "Come in! Come in! The gods truly smile upon us!"

Ulysses simply bowed his head, waiting.

"All of Capua is abuzz, my boy!" Batiatus continued, his eyes sparkling wildly. "Those noblewomen... Ilithyia, Licinia, all my wife's good friends... they haven't stopped talking about you since your last bout! They've put a crazy idea into their husbands' heads!"

Batiatus stopped, staring at Ulysses as if seeing him for the first time. "They want a spectacle. A performance that will engrave the House of Batiatus's name in eternal history. They are bored with ordinary fights."

He leaned forward, his voice now a conspiratorial whisper. "They want to see you... fight five gladiators at once."

Ulysses kept his face neutral, but he allowed a slight hint of surprise to show in his eyes, a reaction he knew was expected of him. "Five men, Dominus? That's not a fight," he said, his voice modulated to sound hesitant. "That's an execution."

"Of course! It's madness!" Batiatus countered, laughing heartily. "That's what I told them! But they wouldn't listen. They kept pressing the Magistrate."

He stopped pacing and stared intently at Ulysses. "But the reward, Ulysses. The reward... it's worth the madness."

Silence filled the room.

"The women have convinced the Magistrate," Batiatus continued, his voice now low and weighty. "They demanded an unprecedented reward for an unprecedented performance."

He stepped closer, placing his hand on Ulysses's shoulder. "If you fight, and if, by Jupiter's miracle, you win... the Magistrate will publicly bestow upon you..."

Batiatus smiled widely. "...Your freedom."

The word hit Ulysses. Freedom. The culmination of all his plans. The ultimate prize. He allowed expressions of surprise, disbelief, and burning hope to slowly emerge on his face. He looked at Batiatus, then at Lucretia.

"I will do it," Ulysses said, his voice now filled with cold determination. "I will fight."

Batiatus roared with delight and clapped him hard on the back. "Good! Good! Doctore! Prepare him! Give him whatever he needs!"

As Ulysses walked out of the room, he felt the weight of his final gamble. His plan had worked perfectly. His queens had moved the chess pieces for him. Now, he just had to win this impossible last game. He wouldn't just be fighting for glory or coin. He would be fighting for his new life.

News of the impending fight spread through the ludus like wildfire. Ulysses against five men. A suicide mission. A spectacle for the gods. The other gladiators looked at him with a strange mix of pity and admiration.

But Ulysses had no time to ponder their gazes. Every second was now precious.

He didn't spend all his time in the training yard honing his muscles. He was more often found alone in a quiet corner, scratching with a stick in the sand. He wasn't drawing faces or symbols. He was drawing formations. Circles, triangles, lines of attack. The knowledge from Roman Military Tactics flowed through his mind. He didn't see it as a 1 vs 5 fight. He saw it as a disorganized enemy unit that he had to break, isolate, and destroy one by one.

When he did physical training, his workouts were also different. Doctore, understanding the impossible task before Ulysses, pushed him in new ways.

"Five men!" Doctore shouted. "Surround him!"

Five gladiators formed a circle around Ulysses. "I won't give you a signal," Doctore said. "Attack when you see an opening. From any direction."

Ulysses stood in the center, his eyes staring straight ahead. He didn't turn his head. He just breathed calmly.

He could feel it now. His 360-Degree Awareness was active. He felt the shift in weight from the man to his back right. He heard the scrape of sandals in the sand from the man to his left.

A shadow moved swiftly from his right side. Without turning his head, Ulysses rotated his body, his shield raised just in time to block the blow of a wooden sword.

BLOCK!

He immediately pushed back and spun, the tip of his sword barely missing another gladiator trying to attack from behind.

The watching gladiators gasped. Even Doctore raised an eyebrow, a very rare expression of admiration. Ulysses seemed to have eyes all over his head. He danced in the midst of the storm, never allowing himself to be surrounded, always moving, always aware of every threat.

The night before the match, as Ulysses was cleaning his armor, Spartacus approached him. The Thracian champion stood in silence for a long time, just watching Ulysses work.

"They think this is an execution," Spartacus finally said, his voice hoarse.

Ulysses didn't stop cleaning his armor. "That's what they paid to see."

Spartacus nodded slowly. "When you're out there," he said, "in the thick of it... don't think about five fights."

Ulysses stopped and looked at him.

"Think about one," Spartacus continued, his eyes sharp. "Then another. And another. That's all there is. Just the man in front of you."

Ulysses nodded, understanding the advice from a man who had faced impossible odds and won. It was the best advice he could receive.

He was now ready. Tomorrow, he would walk into that arena not as a resigned slave, but as a general leading a one-man army into his final battle for freedom.

The piercing sound of trumpets signaled the start of the main event. Ulysses walked out of the dark tunnel, his eyes, accustomed to the dim light, now squinting under Capua's cruel sunlight. The roar of tens of thousands of spectators hit him like a tidal wave, a sound so immense it felt like a physical vibration in his chest.

In the center of the sandy arena, five men awaited him. They weren't elite fighters, but their bodies were hard and scarred. Their eyes showed a dangerous combination of greed for the prize and the desperation of slaves with no other choice. They were a pack of hungry wolves.

Ulysses briefly raised his head towards the seats of honor. He saw Lucretia, Ilithyia, and the others sitting there. He gave no signal. He just knew they were watching. His plan had worked this far. The rest was in his hands.

The announcer shouted his name, then the names of his five opponents. There was no bell. The fight began as the five men moved in unison, spreading out to encircle him.

Any fighter's first instinct is panic. But Ulysses's mind was calm. His 360-Degree Awareness was active, creating a mental map of every movement around him. He felt the man to his back left take a faster step. He felt the man to his right lift his spear.

He didn't wait to be surrounded. He immediately ran, not away, but into the gap between two fighters, forcing them to break their encirclement so as not to collide with each other. Roman Military Tactics whispered in his mind: Break their formation.

The crowd jeered, thinking he was fleeing. But Ulysses didn't care. He kept moving, using his speed and agility to constantly force his five opponents to reposition, preventing them from attacking him simultaneously.

He saw him. The man with the net and trident. He was the biggest threat, capable of disabling him from a distance. He was also the most arrogant, always trying to show off to the crowd. Basic Psychology told Ulysses that this man was the unofficial leader of the group.

Isolate the target.

Ulysses lured three other fighters to one side of the arena, then with a sudden spin, he ran towards the fighter with the net. The man, surprised to suddenly be the target, threw his net in a hurry. His throw missed.

Ulysses didn't waste the opportunity. Before the man could retract his net, Ulysses was already upon him. One quick slash to the arm holding the trident, making him drop the weapon. One hard kick to the chest, sending him sprawling. Ulysses didn't kill him. He simply stomped on his wrist until a loud crunch of bone was heard. One opponent crippled.

The crowd, which had been jeering, now fell silent, then muttered in shock.

The four remaining opponents now attacked with more anger. The fight became more brutal. A sword managed to graze his back. A shield slammed into his shoulder. Pain began to set in, his breathing becoming heavier.

He remembered Spartacus's advice. One. Then another.

He focused on the nearest man, a large man with a double axe. He used Rapid Adaptation to read the slow but powerful rhythm of the axe swings. He dodged, dodged, then when his opponent overextended, he thrust his sword into the man's thigh, making him scream in pain and fall. Two down.

He was now facing three men. He was wounded and starting to tire. He could feel his stamina draining. He knew he couldn't last much longer.

He saw fear in the eyes of one of the three remaining fighters. He looked directly at the man. "You're next," Ulysses growled, his voice barely audible, but his gaze piercing.

The man hesitated, his steps faltered.

Seeing the hesitation, his two other companions exchanged glances, frustrated. That moment of doubt was all Ulysses needed. He lunged at the two stronger fighters, ignoring the weakest. The fight was fast and desperate. He used the last remnants of his energy, exchanging blows, taking bruises to land decisive strikes. He managed to disable the third.

Now it was just him, wounded and exhausted, against two. One angry, one afraid.

That final exchange was a blur of pain and instinct. He took down the angry one with a tactical maneuver that drained every ounce of his energy, sending him to his knees.

He stood swaying, facing his last opponent who was now trembling with fear. The man dropped his weapon and raised his hands, surrendering.

Total silence fell over the arena. Ulysses stood alone amidst five fallen bodies. He was panting, blood dripping from several wounds, his body screaming in pain. But he stood.

The roar of tens of thousands of spectators hit him, a wave of adoring, deafening sound. They chanted his name.

"ULYSSES! ULYSSES! ULYSSES!"

He slowly raised his heavy head, his eyes fixed on the seats of honor. This was the moment of truth. He saw Batiatus standing and applauding, his face a mask of pride that barely concealed the greed in his eyes. Beside him, Lucretia, Ilithyia, Licinia, and the others also stood.

Ulysses looked at them. They were no longer looking at him. They all turned to one person. The Magistrate presiding over the games.

His Basic Psychology read the scene clearly. He saw Ilithyia whispering something into the Magistrate's ear. He saw Lucretia give a graceful but demanding nod. He saw the women, the queens he had conquered the night before, now playing their roles perfectly. They created an invisible pressure.

The Magistrate looked uncomfortable. He was caught between Batiatus's greed and the insistence of Capua's most influential noblewomen. He felt the wave of desire from the crowd, who now adored their new hero.

Finally, he raised his hand. The arena slowly fell silent.

"Capua!" the Magistrate shouted, his voice echoing. "Today, we have witnessed something unprecedented! A man... a champion... has faced death and laughed at it!"

Cheers erupted again.

"Such a display of courage and skill," he continued, his eyes now fixed on Batiatus, "deserves a reward commensurate with its glory! A reward more valuable than gold or trophies!"

Batiatus stopped applauding. The smile on his face froze slightly.

The Magistrate took a deep breath, then shouted one word in Latin that would change Ulysses's destiny forever.

"LIBERTAS!"

Freedom.

The crowd exploded in frenzied euphoria. Granting freedom in the arena was an extremely rare event, a legend they would tell their children and grandchildren. They roared in approval.

Ulysses saw Batiatus's face. Beneath the forced smile and his nod to the Magistrate, Ulysses saw a flash of pure anger and loss. He had lost his most unique asset.

Ulysses then glanced towards the gladiators' gate. He saw Spartacus standing there, on the threshold of shadow. Their eyes met. No words were exchanged, but Ulysses saw it. Respect. Happiness for a friend. And also, a farewell. Their paths were now truly separate.

The guards opened the gates on the other side of the arena, not the gate leading to the slaves' barracks, but the gate leading to the streets of Capua.

Ulysses didn't wait. He dropped his broken sword and shield into the sand. He turned, his back to the five defeated bodies, to the cheers, to Batiatus, and to Spartacus.

He walked across the red sand. Every step felt light. The chains that had bound him for so long, both real and invisible, were now shattered.

As he stepped through that gate and felt the dirty Capuan air as a free man for the first time, his journey as a slave had ended.

-----------------------------------------------------

{Name: Ulysses}

{Title: - }

{Stored Essence: 63}

{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1), [Talent] 360-Degree Awareness, [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics (Tier 1)}