Weeks blurred into a brutal cycle of training. Spartacus's presence had transformed the training yard into a perpetual boiling cauldron. He and Doctore continued to clash wills, while Crixus honed his anger into a weapon, his gaze rarely leaving his Thracian rival.
Thomas used this chaos as a veil. He trained with his head down, becoming a shadow. At night, his dangerous game continued. Two more dark dealings with slaves yielded him +0.02 Points. He allocated them all evenly, adding strength to his swing and speed to his step. His growth felt real, but it was still too slow. He knew he needed more.
One afternoon, Batiatus strode through the courtyard, his face sour. "The gods are squeezing my last coin!" he complained to Doctore. "I need quick income!"
"Pit fights are always available, Dominus," Doctore replied flatly.
"Ah, yes, the pit," Batiatus said, his eyes glinting slyly. "Filthy, brutal, but the crowd pays well. Prepare some men." Doctore began pointing out several large, low-tier gladiators.
"Wait," Batiatus said suddenly. His eyes swept over the huddled recruits and stopped precisely on Thomas. A thin smile carved itself onto his face. "Not them. I'm tired of seeing beasts tear each other apart. I want to see this one. I want to see if his cunning during the first test was merely luck. Send him."
A hush fell over the yard. Varro stared at Thomas in horror. Sending an unproven recruit into The Pit was a death sentence. Thomas felt the blood drain from his face. The Dominus's order was absolute. He could only nod in resignation.
That night, he was in hell. A damp dungeon, packed with screaming, rough spectators. A guard thrust a sica, a sharp, curved dagger, into his hand. The cold iron felt alien and lethal. His opponent, a massive Germanic man with a war axe, was pushed in from the other side.
The fight began. The Germanic man roared and charged. Thomas, fueled by adrenaline, moved instantly. He danced on the edge of the circle, evading brutal swings, letting the giant exhaust his energy. His mind worked quickly, analyzing every movement, every opening. His opponent was strong, but slow and careless.
After a while, the Germanic man began to get frustrated. He delivered one last, powerful swing and lost his balance. That was the opening Thomas had been waiting for.
He shot forward like a snake. As the man tried to raise his axe, Thomas plunged his sica into the unprotected inner thigh. The dagger tore through muscle and flesh. The Germanic man screamed and dropped to his knees.
Thomas stood over him. He saw the unquenchable hatred in his opponent's eyes. The rules of The Pit echoed in his mind: kill or be killed. Hesitation gripped him for a split second. Remnants of his old self shrieked in horror. But Thomas the slave knew what had to be done.
With a desperate cry, he plunged the sica into his opponent's throat. Warm blood spurted, splattering his face. The Germanic man's eyes lost their light, and his massive body crumpled to the ground.
Thomas stood trembling, the blood-soaked sica in his hand. He had just killed. A profound nausea rose in his throat. Then, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Back at the ludus, Batiatus summoned him. "I must confess, I didn't expect it," Batiatus said, looking at him with new eyes. "I thought I was sending a lamb to slaughter. Turns out, inside that lamb was a vicious little wolf. You killed without hesitation. That is valuable."
Batiatus tossed him a leather pouch containing several silver coins. "Your earnings. Keep surprising me, and perhaps you'll live long enough to enjoy them."
The following nights, Thomas couldn't sleep soundly. The image of the Germanic man haunted him. The silver coins in his hand felt cold, a silent reminder of the life he had taken. He knew keeping them was pointless. These coins were a tool to buy power.
He waited for his opportunity and found it a few days later. Ashur was alone near the armory.
Thomas approached him quietly. "I need to speak with you."
Ashur smiled slyly. "Ah, the hero of The Pit," he said mockingly. "I'm surprised to see you still walking after your little dance."
"I hear you can arrange 'entertainment' for those who can pay," Thomas said in a low voice.
Ashur's smile widened. Thomas pulled out his leather pouch, letting the coins jingle. The Syrian's eyes fixed on the pouch. "So, you have coins. What are you looking for? A little warmth for the cold nights?"
"I need something regular," Thomas said. "A periodic arrangement. You'll be adequately compensated."
Ashur laughed like a snake. "I like your ambition. But such things aren't cheap." He named a suffocating figure, a large portion of Thomas's winnings.
Thomas stared into Ashur's cunning eyes. He knew he was being robbed. But he had no other choice. "Agreed," he said, handing over the coins.
Ashur snatched them quickly. "A wise decision," he said, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. "Just wait in your cell tonight. Your entertainment will come."
With a final wink, Ashur left. Thomas felt a chill run down his spine. He had just made a deal with the devil to buy power, piece by piece.
That night, Thomas couldn't sleep. He wasn't lying down, but sitting in the darkest corner of his cell, his back against the cold stone wall. Every sound in the corridor, every guard's step, every cough from another slave made him tense. He wasn't waiting with lust, but with the anxiety of an investor awaiting the delivery of his valuable asset.
Hours after the ludus fell asleep, the unlocked door of his cell creaked softly. A woman stepped in with silent, practiced movements. She was not a ludus slave. Her clothes were better, though simple, and her hair was neatly styled. Her face was beautiful in a tired way, and her eyes looked at Thomas without emotion, only with professional assessment.
"Ashur sent me," she whispered, her voice low and husky.
Thomas simply nodded, rising from his seat. No other words were needed. This was business.
He led the woman to the darkest corner of their cell, onto the itching straw. The woman moved with cold efficiency. She shed her clothes without shame, her body a tool of her trade, displayed under the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall.
As they lay down, Thomas felt a clear distinction. This wasn't about desperation or a game of trust. This was a task to be completed. His hands explored the woman's body, but his mind remained clear, analyzing. He positioned himself over the woman, his penis already ready, a reaction that now felt more like a system function than authentic arousal.
As he pushed into her ready and wet vagina, the woman let out a practiced-sounding sigh. Thomas moved his hips with a steady, powerful tempo. His mind wasn't wandering, but intensely focused. He concentrated on the physical sensations, on every friction and thrust, trying to feel the process. For him, this was a resource extraction process.
The woman played her part well. Her hands gripped Thomas's shoulders, and small moans escaped her lips in rhythm with Thomas's thrusts. "Ah... yes... just like that..." she murmured, words she had likely spoken a thousand times.
Thomas didn't care if it was fake. He wasn't seeking intimacy. He was seeking results. He gripped the woman's hips, quickening his pace, pushing deeper, completely controlling the interaction. He could feel his own heartbeat quickening, not from passion, but from anticipation of the coming reward.
His release came with controlled force. He spilled his semen inside the woman, completing his task efficiently.
As soon as he was done, the atmosphere shifted instantly. There was no post-coital tenderness. The woman quickly pulled away, rose, and dressed herself with the same professional movements as when she had undressed. She didn't look at Thomas. Her contract was fulfilled.
Without another word, she slipped out of the cell, disappearing into the darkness.
Thomas was left alone, the unfamiliar scent of sex lingering in the stuffy air of his cell. He felt empty, but also satisfied in a cold way. His investment had been executed. He had successfully transformed coins gained from blood into power.
The blue panel he had been waiting for appeared.
{Intimacy completed. Target: Prostitute.}
{Points gained: +0.01}
He immediately opened his system menu. His victory in The Pit proved that speed was key to his survival.
{Allocate 0.01 Points to Agility.}
A faint warmth, more noticeable than before, flowed through his entire body. His muscles felt more responsive, his joints looser. He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling a clear, albeit small, difference.