Fearless

When Kirk woke up, he was in a simple room, tucked beneath a soft quilt. Little Fatty was overjoyed. "Big brother, you're finally awake!"

"How long was I out?" Kirk asked, struggling weakly to sit up.

"It's already two in the afternoon. You were unconscious for five hours." Little Fatty hurried over with some water. "You scared me half to death. If anything happened to you, big brother, I probably wouldn't make it."

"That was close. Spartacus almost killed me." Kirk was still shaken.

"You've proven yourself." Batista came in looking relaxed, accompanied by his wife, Lucretia, and the trainer Dochet. "From now on, you've been promoted to auxiliary gladiator. You're no longer expendable fodder who can be killed at will. You won't have to live in a roofless cattle pen anymore, and you'll have the right to earn glory and a share of the gladiators' winnings." Batista spoke with great generosity.

Kirk's performance was an unexpected windfall for him, as if it had fallen straight from the heavens. He'd bought Spartacus at the cost of his entire fortune, but this seemingly frail slave was one of those common wholesale lots: buy thirty for a hundred gold coins and get two free. If you spent a hundred bucks on thirty young chickens for the cooking pot, only to discover that one of them laid golden eggs, wouldn't you take good care of it?

Last time, several gladiators had died when Uncle Ben Laden staged an outrageous last-ditch attack with an RPG rocket. The Marseille Dionysia Festival was about to begin, and under the original contract, the Capus training camp had to provide thirty gladiators for the show. Batista's problem now was that he didn't have enough gladiators. If he broke the contract, the compensation would be more than the training camp—already in the midst of an economic crisis—could afford.

Kirk had now mostly recovered. A Contractor's body was digitized; though his right arm had been smashed nearly to pieces, bone and sinew alike, he could at least move it again.

Kirk stepped outside. Dochet said coldly, "Slave, on the master's orders, you don't have to train today. You'll join the training tomorrow. Treasure today's respite, and let's hope you don't cry tomorrow."

Kirk smiled faintly and walked out. Dochet was usually stern but kind-hearted, and worthy of respect. During training, though, he was a merciless demon.

Outside, the Contractors had already started their afternoon exercises. To Kirk's surprise, the young man the cult leader had picked that morning hadn't died or suffered any serious injuries. But now his face was pale, and he was weakly taking hit after hit. This time, a female Contractor from the team organized by One-Eyed Dragon was sparring with Audi, though she looked just as miserable.

"What did Audi pull this morning?" Kirk asked quietly.

"I've already asked around." Little Fatty seemed to have taken a keen interest too. "Audi really is a greedy Vampire. The young man said that after Audi put on a show and traded a few blows with him, he started threatening him, ordering him to hand over all his Survival Points, Skill Potential Points, Base Attribute Points, and [Soul Crystal]. If he refused, Audi would kill him on the spot."

"What did the young man do?" Kirk frowned.

"Audi even laid out the pros and cons for him. First, he said outright that he was a Veteran and could crush a Contractor as easily as a chicken; resisting wouldn't hurt him at all. Second, he was a gladiator, so killing fodder would earn him no more than a couple of scoldings. But if the young man refused to hand everything over, he'd die right there. Besides, killing him would still get Audi a Bloody Key worth a 20% reward."

Kirk nodded. Audi was definitely no simple opponent. He'd already accounted for every possible reaction a Contractor might have.

On one side were Survival Points, Potential Points, Attribute Points, and [Soul Crystal]. On the other was their life. When resistance was hopeless and killing them cost so little, how many people would choose to fight to the death? They wouldn't. Nothing mattered more than staying alive.

That way, in just a few days, Audi could rob the Contractors one by one, leaving them with nothing. Once he'd squeezed them dry, he'd brazenly slaughter them all and take their Bloody Keys!

Once he opened the Bloody Keys, he wouldn't need to guess anymore. The Survival Points and everything else would be in his pocket. He'd only need to select the equipment, then loot the dead Contractors' gear too, maximizing his profits!

All thirty Contractors' Survival Points, Skill Potential Points, Base Attribute Points, [Soul Crystal], and at least two pieces of equipment each would fall into his hands!

What an enormous haul! He could forget about all the other Main Missions.

It was like a sly fox getting into a henhouse and ordering the chickens to pluck themselves clean, then sitting by the boiling oil with a grin and frying up Kentucky Fried Chicken.

And looking at it the other way, if the bastard used brute force, he'd drive the Contractors to unite and launch a fierce attack as a group, forcing him to pay a heavy price. But now he was slowly boiling the frog, until not even bones would be left!

Maybe the Contractors he'd extorted would even help him extort the others, acting as his accomplices. Otherwise, why should they escape unscathed when he'd been stripped bare?

Before long, the female Contractor sat on the ground looking utterly despondent. It seemed she'd chosen to give in too, handing over everything she owned to the cult leader in exchange for her life—for now.

The other Contractors ground their teeth in anger. But if they ganged up on Audi now, the training camp would see it as a revolt, and Dochet would order the other gladiators to kill them all.

What a clever scheme. Kirk sneered. But I'm no pushover. Go ahead and extort them for me. Later, I'll make you cough up every last bit you took. You can be my transport brigade, only to end up with nothing.

That evening, Spartacus and Vero came to see Kirk again. Kirk was startled, but Vero patted him on the shoulder with a grin. "I never would've guessed you could exploit his eagerness to win, badly wound that beast, and force it to awaken its dormant bloodline. Not bad!"

Kirk was confused. They'd fought to the death that morning. Wasn't Spartacus angry with him?

"Vero's right. I did lose because of my impatience and pride." Spartacus finally spoke, admitting it reluctantly. "I'll admit you've got some skill. You taught me a lesson, and I'll be stronger next time. You're worthy of standing beside me as a gladiator and companion."

Then, after remaining silent for a long while, the space suddenly issued a notification: "Contractor No. 4444, you have earned Spartacus's recognition and unlocked the hidden Main Mission [The Glory and Death of the Great Arena]! You have gained the status of [Auxiliary Gladiator] and received 5 [Glory Points]. Continue training and prepare for the Great Arena!

"Because you defeated the mortal-level story protagonist Spartacus in a one-on-one fight, you have received 25 [Glory Points].

"Because of your combat skills, you have earned the recognition of the story protagonists Spartacus and Vero. Your current Favorability is Friendly.

"You have qualified to participate in training and gladiatorial combat as a gladiator. If the remaining Contractors have not obtained gladiator status before the Marseille Dionysia Festival begins in four days, they will fight as slaves.

"[Glory Points]: Gladiators in This World enjoy the treatment of modern-day superstars. (Graffiti on the surviving walls of Pompeii shows that the Xeres gladiator Celadus was the Beckham of his day.) They risk their lives in the arena, winning great glory—and, inevitably, great wealth! Gladiators with extremely high Glory Points can even use their influence to force powerful Roman Republic officials—the Consul, Tribune of the Plebs, and Dictator (including the Roman emperors of later eras)—to step down and fight them to the death. (See the film [Gladiator].)

"[Glory Points] can be exchanged for unique equipment and supplies with the training camp quartermaster Ashur, the Marseille Arena quartermaster Celer, or the Great Arena quartermaster Philia. They can also be exchanged during the post-story summary."

You have directly completed the Black Iron rank title [Gladiator], which required you to fight three gladiators or one Elite Gladiator one-on-one, defeating them or earning their recognition. (The Bronze rank title [Auxiliary Gladiator], which required you to challenge an ordinary gladiator one-on-one, has also been completed automatically and skipped.)

Equipment effect: [Fearless]: During gladiatorial combat in the arena, all your attributes are increased by 2. In one-on-one combat, all your attributes are increased by 1. If there are two or more opponents, all your attributes gain an additional bonus that increases with their number.

Clearly, even this Black Iron rank title was far better than the Gold rank [Enemy of Walkers]. It made you practically invincible in one-on-one fights, and even more outrageous in group battles. But the risk of obtaining it was much greater too. There were only two Elite Gladiators at present: Spartacus and Cress, and neither was someone to trifle with. Who was Cress? He was Spartacus's second-in-command in the revolt that nearly shook the foundations of the Roman Republic, and a hero in his own right. Later, he disagreed with Spartacus, raised his own banner, and eventually died in battle. He was much like Shi Dakai of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. In short, don't provoke either of them unless you're ready to die.

At least the Main Mission was clear now. It was even set as a hidden mission, in a particularly underhanded move. Contractors who lacked the strength to earn [Auxiliary Gladiator] status might never learn what they'd been dragged to this godforsaken place for, even by the time they died!

[Glory Points] seemed to be the way hidden rewards were calculated. The more, the better. But defeating gladiators during training didn't seem to earn any. After checking, Kirk was speechless to discover that Glory Point rewards were directly tied to the size of the venue and the audience. For example, because Kirk had kept his status a secret, the other Contractors didn't know how he'd become a gladiator, and they hadn't seen him fight Spartacus. With no audience, he'd earned 25 points. If he'd defeated Spartacus in the Marseille Arena, which could hold 20,000 spectators, he'd have earned at least 100! If he'd done it in Rome, where the arena could hold 90,000, with Consuls, senators, and noblewomen watching, he'd have earned at least 1,000 Glory Points!

It was just like all those talent shows in later generations. If you screamed your lungs out in an empty place, no one would pay you; the city management or police might even fine you for disturbing the peace and making noise. But if you got on Supergirl, Happy Boys, or Momma Mia, you could scream just as badly and drive people just as crazy, yet use television to force the whole country to hear you, becoming famous and rich. For another example, some new nobody of a writer could toil away day and night, writing for free, yet still lag immeasurably behind the great authors in readership and earnings.

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