"Stop these beasts!"
Just as the slaves occupied the passageway, preparing to lock the winch and withdraw from the arena in an orderly fashion, several slave owners led a well-equipped guard unit charging in through the corridor, intending to suppress the rebellion stirred up by these "two-legged beasts."
"Young men to the front, old men and boys to the rear! Stay close behind me!"
Spartacus roared his warning, signaling for his companions behind him to maintain a steady formation.
At the same time, he swung his short sword like a savage beast unleashed from its cage. Taking the lead, he cleaved through shields, armor, and flesh in the narrow passageway, sending severed limbs flying everywhere as he forcibly carved out a bloody path.
With their backbone in place, the slaves stepped forward one after another, raising the weapons handed out to them. Driven by rage and bloody courage, they stabbed and struck at the Roman Soldiers sprawled on the ground, wailing in pain.
The sudden bloody upheaval made the pampered noblemen and noblewomen in the arena stands scream in terror. They scrambled to flee this slaughterhouse, plunging the scene into even greater chaos.
At last, after suffering several casualties, the slave unit led by Spartacus successfully cut through a formation of Roman Soldiers several times their number. They lowered the gate and gained a brief chance to catch their breath.
"Spartacus! Gaius, Gaius isn't going to make it..."
Hearing the anxious, childish cry from behind him, Spartacus turned around.
Beside the corpses of several Roman Soldiers, a middle-aged man sat slumped against one side of the corridor wall. His abdomen and heart had been stabbed several times, blood and entrails spilling uncontrollably from his wounds. A helpless, miserable smile appeared on his face.
He was the old Carthaginian veteran who