Chapter 1

At the centre of the arena in Capua, a boy gladiator stood alone under the expectant gaze of the crowd. He wore a loincloth along with minimal armour, which comprised a shoulder pauldron on his left arm and guards on both wrists. He held a gleaming sword at his side.

Lykos possessed a physique that reflected both his strength and his agility. His torso showed noticeable muscle tone with emerging abdominal definition, underlining his high level of physical training and his readiness for combat. His face was youthful but it carried a striking seriousness; his expression was focused and calm.

Lykos’s black hair was medium in length, kept practical for combat but with a slightly tousled appearance. He stood with a confident, balanced posture. His stance was solid, yet there was a lightness to his frame, indicating his readiness to adapt and move quickly if needed. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, showing that he was both aware of his abilities and prepared for any challenge.

Lykos had entered a life of slavery only a few months before. He was born into a proud and noble family with a long tradition of military service; from a young age, he was trained to follow in the footsteps of his forebears. But then his family was embroiled in political intrigue, and a trusted ally betrayed them. As a result, they lost their status and wealth, and Lykos was taken as a slave to settle fabricated debts that were part of the plot against them.

Lykos found himself stripped of his birthright and forced into the life of a gladiator. The betrayal by someone his father had trusted shook him deeply, but rather than breaking him, it steeled his resolve. He saw the arena as both a punishment and an opportunity – a way to reclaim his lost honour and to prove himself worthy of his family’s legacy.

Lykos had a solid foundation in combat skills and physical conditioning even before he was taken as a slave, thanks to his early training at home. This not only helped him practically in his new life as a boy gladiator, but had also instilled in him a sense of discipline and honour. He looked on his time in the arena, although he found it challenging, as an extension of the path he had already been on, albeit under drastically different circumstances.

There were whispers and murmurs of anticipation from the crowd as a second boy gladiator entered the arena. Also armed with a sword and with leather bracers on his knees and wrists, Kaelus struck a formidable and imposing figure despite his obvious youth. He had a well-muscled physique with a clearly defined six-pack, indicative of the rigorous physical training that had dominated his life for the past three years. His frame was solid and powerful, with broad shoulders and strong arms.

Kaelus stood with a confident, upright posture, exuding strength and readiness for battle. In contrast to his body, his face was very youthful in appearance, but also marked by a certain intensity. His expression was grave, and his eyes were striking and determined. His dark brown hair was cut short, practical for a fighter, and was also neatly kept, a sign of the boy’s discipline and focus.

Aside from his wrist bracers, Kaelus refused ever to wear any armour above his waist in the arena, fully exposing his toned, muscular body for the duration of each and every battle. This made him something of a favourite with the crowd. Kaelus’s bare torso emphasised his vulnerability and youth, but his visible muscles served as a symbol of his hard-earned strength and skill. This duality made Kaelus an intriguing figure, as his power was on full and constant display, yet he was always highly susceptible to harm.

Kaelus’s decision to fight without upper body armour also accentuated the stark contrast between his youthful face and his chiselled physique. His muscular body reflected the intense training and battles he had endured, while his face was a reminder of the innocence and childhood that had been stripped away from him. This contrast evoked a mix of awe and sympathy from the crowd, who saw a boy forced into circumstances that had shaped him into something extraordinary yet tragic.

Kaelus had voluntarily accepted the role of boy gladiator to prevent his younger brother from being taken as a slave to settle their parents’ debts. Unable to face his own feelings of desolation and sorrow, Kaelus had thrown himself body and soul into his training. He had developed not only an incredibly muscular physique, but also a wealth of knowledge and experience as a warrior.

Driven by the sacrifice he had made and the pain of his separation from his family, Kaelus’s ultimate ambition was to earn his freedom and secure a better life for himself and his brother. He saw the arena as a means to an end – a way to gain enough wealth, reputation or favour to achieve his goal.

The tension between Kaelus and Lykos was palpable as they squared up to each other in front of the eager crowd. Then, without warning, Lykos lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. Kaelus spun on his heel, using the momentum to deliver a swift kick to Lykos’s side. The impact was powerful; Lykos grunted and staggered, but then advanced again.

Kaelus waited, every muscle in his body coiled and ready. The next strike came, Lykos feinting to the left before swinging his sword from the right. Kaelus managed to parry the blow, then he pushed forward, using the close proximity to his advantage. He struck out with his bracers, the metal inlay of one clashing against Lykos’s shoulder pauldron with a sharp clang.

The crowd roared as the battle intensified. As Lykos came at him again, Kaelus dropped low and swept his leg out, catching Lykos off guard and sending him sprawling to the ground. Kaelus was ready in an instant, his sword levelled at his opponent with the intention of forcing a surrender, but Lykos rolled to the side, then he sprang up and charged.

As their blades locked, the two boys faced each other. Kaelus was tired, breathing hard, his muscles aching from the intensity of the fight. But he could see that Lykos was in a similar condition, and he knew that he himself had the advantage of brute strength – this was his chance.

With a final burst of speed, Kaelus darted forward, his movements a blur. He faked a strike to Lykos’s left, then at the last second he pivoted and struck to the right, his bracer catching Lykos in the side. The younger boy grunted in pain, his guard faltering just long enough for Kaelus to follow up with a swift kick that sent Lykos crashing to the ground.

Kaelus stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving with the effort of the fight, and pressed the point of his sword to Lykos’s throat.

‘Well fought, Kaelus,’ Lykos said, his voice rough but sincere. ‘The victory is yours.’

Kaelus nodded, lowering his weapon and extending his free hand to help Lykos up. The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the arena as the two young gladiators stood side by side, the heat of the battle still fresh between them.

The cheers of the crowd had barely begun to fade when a shadow darted across the arena. Kaelus, still catching his breath after his gruelling battle with Lykos, turned just in time to see a figure sprinting towards him, swift and light-footed.

It was Tarin, the youngest gladiator in the ludus to which all three boys belonged. Tarin wore slightly more armour than Lykos, including wrist guards, leg guards and two shoulder pauldrons. He held a short sword in his right hand, and his stance was confident.

His lean, agile build reflected both his cunning and his youthful energy. Unlike the other two boys, Tarin showed no signs of developing visible abdominal muscles, but his body was fit and athletic, indicating a focus on agility and speed over raw power.

Tarin’s expression was alert and intelligent. His sandy brown hair was a bit longer than Kaelus’s, and was noticeably tousled, giving him a slightly wild, untamed look. The boy’s posture was relaxed yet ready, with a lightness in his stance that suggested he was always prepared to move quickly and decisively.

Tarin was born in a small, impoverished village on the outskirts of the empire. He had been orphaned during infancy and did not have a happy childhood. Just over a year ago, his village had been raided by slavers who captured many of the children, including himself. Unlike most who were taken, Tarin quickly realised that his best chance of survival was to forget his old life and adapt to his new reality.